breathe empty

The Little Brit | Jughead Jones x Reader


A\N: This writing is not mine, it’s by beautiful lil’ nugget B who kindly offered me help with this account x 

Part 2

Originally posted by c-sand

    I finish unpacking the last box before I’m officially moved in to my new home in Riverdale. I glance around my room, grab the last empty boxes and bounce down the stairs greeting my parents as they unpack kitchen boxes. 

“This is the last of them,” I breath out placing the empty boxes on the kitchen bench. My stomach grumbles, I haven’t eaten much since the flight if you count an apple and a few crackers as food. 

“Honey why don’t you go get some dinner from the diner we drove past? I heard they do excellent burgers!”

 I shrug my shoulders.

 “Sure, I’ll just get my coat.”

    I return to my room and pull on my jacket before grabbing some cash and head toward the diner we saw earlier. A bright red neon sign comes into vision as I edge closer “Pop's”. I wearily enter and see how packed the place is. I patiently wait in line till it’s my time to order. After ordering and giving the nice older man the money, he glances back to the kitchen hand scrambling to get orders out.

“Sorry miss it may be a longer wait,“ I shake my head.

“Oh, no, that’s fine, I’ll just sit and wait,” he smiles greatfully as I scan the diner spotting a nearly empty booth with two girls sitting opposite each other with two milkshakes. I take a deep breath and walk towards the table. Laughter is filling the air. I stop at the head of the table. Their conversation goes quiet.

“Oh, hey, can we help you?” The blonde spoke first smiling up at me.

“Hello, my names (Y/N), I was just wondering if I could sit? I just ordered and they said it’d be awhile and, well, you look the most friendly,“ I go red glancing down at my hands. 

“Of course you can, I’m Betty and this is Veronica,” She greets me glancing at the raven haired girl.

“You must be new around here” she speaks and I sit down.

“Guilty, am I that obvious?” I smile and she shakes her head. 

“Your accent is more of a giveaway,” I nod and mentally face palm.

“Oh, of course, I didn’t think about that. My family and I just moved here from London.” They nod.

“Wow, that’s so cool-” Veronica was cut short as the bell rang indicating there was more customers. The both glance back to see whoever was entering. I glance at my phone messaging my father to tell him I’d be longer than anticipated. 

“Woah, who’s the new girl?” I look up and see two boys standing at the top of our booth, a brown headed boy & the other with red hair, both being extremely easy on the eyes.

“(Y/N),” I barely whisper clearing my throats before trying again. “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” They both smile slipping into the booth.

“Archie Andrews,” the red head speaks first, sliding in next to me flashing his bright white smile. I glance to the other boy as he climbs in next to Veronica. He laughs to himself.

“Uh, yeah, I’m Jughead Jones The Third.“ I giggle.

“Jughead Jones?” I question. His gaze snaps to mine, a smile etching onto his face.

“Just when I thought my name would never sound nice, you lil brit make me change my mind.“ I blush and glance at him through my lashes 

“Take that as a compliment?” I say unsure.

“With an accent like that I could listen to you talk all day,” we stare for awhile until we’re interrupted by our friends’ laughter. 

“Woah, Juggie’s got a crush on the new girl,“ Veronica squeaks squeezing his hand and bumping up against him. He rolls his eyes and adjusts his beanie picking at the plate of fries in front of him trying to avoid the gaze of his giddy friends.

“I-” I was cut short when the man from the counter wonders over with my take away bag.

“Sorry for the wait- I see you’ve encounted the scary locals.” I laugh, nodding.

“Thank you,” I smile at him, taking the bag and standing from the booth. “I hope to see you again, enjoy,” and with that he turns and walks towards the counter again. 

“Well, I better get going, my parents are waiting for me to get back with tea,” I smile sheepishly as Jughead glances at me soaking up every word. They all seem disappointed, but I remind them that I’ll see them the next day at my first day of school. 

“Goodbye,” I smile waving as I turn around to head to the door.

“Goodbye love,” I hear jughead yell trying his best at an English accent. I giggle and blow him a kiss before pushing on the door open and walking towards home.

- 🌹

✮  - must find a place where to spend the night (w/ tsundere!jungkook)
@workofteaguk bc jungkook is her main poison and i’m a horrible friend >:)
p.s. this is pretty fucken long i didn’t realize i went this far

When Jungkook’s mother told him to always look on the brighter side of things, he thought… that’s fucking impossible. How are you supposed to look on the positive when the negative comes shoving into your face? Is there enough self-control on every individual to make a decision not to run down the streets because life treated them poorly?

Yes, apparently, yes.

Jungkook stands outside the window of the convenience store, watching as a familiar figure pull over a hood on their head and find comfort in the corner of the table built. With folded arms, face down and legs folded up on the stool, Jungkook debates in his mind if he really wants to put himself through this. He waits, at least… five seconds before he decides to fuck it.

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Cassian sat on a pale bed, in a pale room, wearing only a pair of pale sleeping-pants. He took a deep, heavy breath.

The room was empty. A mirror was propped against the wall across from him, but he didn’t need it. He looked over his shoulder.

He stroked a finger over the claw at the apex of his right wing. Both of his wings were unbound. Both ached painfully.

He wiggled the claw of his right wing and curled it lovingly around his fingers. He could still feel this one, still move it.

“We had a good run didn’t we boys? A good life.” He held his breath to keep from crying. His chin trembled. He could do this. He had to do this. It was time.

He turned his head as far as he could and pulled the claw forward. He rubbed the smooth, hooked nail over the skin of his cheek. He savored the feel of it, trying to commit it to memory.

He kissed it.

And felt like a fool. Felt like a fool as he craned his neck and kissed the other claw, too, because they weren’t people, they were things—appendages. They didn’t have feelings or thoughts… but they were part of him. They were a part of him. And he’d never been apart from them.

They were old friends. They were his friends, and they’d never let him down.

They hadn’t let Az down either. It wasn’t such a bad way to end, he thought. For them to be shredded in battle, protecting his brother. Worse things had happened to better people. And Azriel had lived. And Azriel would continue to live when Cassian’s wings could not. He was learning to accept that. To make peace with that. But—

He swallowed hard. He was scared. Cassian was scared of living a life without them—his wings. But it was time.

He looked at himself in the mirror. Looked at what was left of his old friends.

Beautiful, he thought. They’re still beautiful.

He downed both of the tonics sitting on a low table next to the bed. He looked at himself in the mirror one last time and said, “I’m sorry it had to end this way.”

Then he laid on the bed, flat on his stomach. He turned his head and curled the right claw of his right wing over his right hand for the last time.

“Thank you,” he said.

“I’m going to miss you,” he said.

Cassian was still holding his right claw when he was swept into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

[End Dark Paradise - pt 7] [pt. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 68, 91011, 12]

Strings II

Summary: The Red String of Fate exists, and like only someone people in the world, you have the rare ability to see them- to change them.

Genre: Soulmates!Jungkook + angst but not angst at all + fluff

Word count: 14.6k

A/N : Surprise!!! I am back! After months of procrastinating here is the long awaited part II! Thank you for all the praise for part I and I hope you guys like the sequel just as much. It’s not edited properly and there might still be mistakes but I really just wanna get this out! Comments and criticism are very much appreciated. :)) 

Part I 

For the first time since you’d found out that you could see strings, breathing felt easy. 

You felt like you were floating, grasping onto the air with your fingertips, flapping your arms as if wings had been stitched onto the flesh like seams to keep you airborne and for fleeting moments, you embraced the sensation of liberation

You couldn’t deny the way your cheeks ached in a way that was anything but unpleasant and your hair in those brisk moments spiralled behind you in its frenzy of locks and screaming with sovereignty.

Despite the ruins you were the cause of, despite the flames you’d set alight and left unattended, despite all things destruction that you were the cause of- oddly, you’d never felt so free.

You’d never felt so close to the air.

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crazy-phangirl666  asked:

can you do tatinof sex, like after the show and dan rides phil in the dressing room or a closet ?💕 I'm in love with your blog 💖

bless this, ilyy 💖

- they’re breathless, ebullient and extraordinary, radiant, riding out an overdose of emotion- want, pride, need, and absolutely every other emotion in between. so, it’s not much of a surprise when dan’s back hits the wall almost as soon as the dressing room door swings shut. the door slams, lock clicking shut, and dan’s pinned to the wall, with phil’s lips pressed against his own, sucking dan back into the incredible hum of ecstasy they’ve just come from.

- there’s a slight gasp from dan that seeps through his parted lips as he kisses back, too messy, too eager, and breathes a moan out against phil’s lips. it’s been years, but dan’s still not over how phil can be so delicate even when he’s got him against a wall, hands wrapped dan’s hips, steadying him front and center, feet tangled into each other. honey and molasses drips from dan’s tastebuds, has them parting for air suddenly, when he thinks he may suffocate them both. 

- dan presses his thumb into the dip of phil’s back, traces the way his spine cuts off and the curve of his arse begins, swallows deep when phil presses his torso to his own. dan’s hand’s sink lower then, press in between both of their stomachs and he grins at the way phil sucks in a tight breath of air when dan’s fingers ghost over his trapped prick. the thriving bulge that’s held prisoner behind denim fabric, dan’s fingers prop at the waistband of phil’s jeans, they tug lightly and dip low, pushing the fabric down,

- phil loops a finger into dan’s belt buckle, tugs down along the fabric, and frees dan of his jeans in a few yanks. his shirt is next, easily removed, shackled past dan’s torso and lost somewhere in the corners of the dressing room. it’s then when dan feels hot skin along his, bare legs that tangle along his own, that dan realizes how lucky he is, to be here, with phil, and really, he wouldn’t want it any other way.

- suddenly, they’re sinking, down, down, until dan’s settled on phil’s lap, sat on the floor.  dan shutters when he feels the print of phil’s index curve down past the base of his cock, the way both of his hands work to cup dan’s balls and carry him through this massive quake of ’fuck, phil’ that bounces along his tongue, chest lifting and dropping profusely.

- and neither of them are used to this; the buzzing feeling that comes along with actually having their own show, the breathless grins, cherry lips, and bright eyes. they’re used to smogged out cities, not enough oxygen between each breath, but it’s okay, when they have each other.

- slowly, phil eases one finger in, and then another, tight heat engulfing dan’s skin and tingling along his every fiber. dan’s mouth props open and his eyes flicker, his vision blurry along the ceiling when phil begins to wiggle his digits, slow at first, but a scissor-like effect within minutes of warming up and dan’s properly impatient by the time phil’s palming himself with his opposite hand, tip slick with precum. lemme ride you phil, please, just, want you, dan chases out, voice beat, raspy and fucked over with pleasure as he shifts, sucks in a deep breath when phil groans, loosens his fingers and slips them out of dan’s glossy entrance. slicked up and ready to be ruined.

-  he keeps his eyes set, drilled on phil and the way he strokes his cock, curving his fingers along his thick prick, pressing his thumb to his sticky head and parting his lips when he reaches for the folium packet, allows his cock to rest, erect along his stomach while he lathers himself up, presses the tip of the condom to his head and rolls down slowly. too slow and dan groans, impatient.

- finally, dan pinches his eyes closed and sinks onto phil, focusing on the way his skin flames along phil’s and makes him feel alive. it stretches, and it’s tight, bit uncomfortable really, but he can’t help but want it. his lips part and he mewls out something ridiculous, as he starts to move on phil’s cock.  it burns in all the best ways, shocks that run up through dan’s spine and tickle the hairs on the back of his neck and really, this might be phil’s favorite version of dan. when he’s so out of it, so strung out, body flushed, a mess of overwhelming sensations. 

- they’re breathless, stuck in a bubble of pure ecstasy that’s swallowed both of them up and kept them squeamish, ragged, and fucked. phil gulps, his eyes focus in and he cums to dan’s slow deep movements, ripping a deep groan out of him. every pinch, every stretch, every sloppy thrust gives dan a head rush and sends twitches along his fingertips, carries him up, up and to his orgasm.

- their ragged breaths carry through the empty room, as both of them sit, ride out their highs and just breath through the title wave of pleasure. i love you, phil hums after a few minutes of nothing, sitting in a room filled with stuffy air that’s almost suffocating but isn’t.

- and dan can’t help but think, through his hazy and beyond fucked thoughts, that there’s no place on earth he would rather be than here in this moment. with phil, in a room that has their costumes, and their clothes, and their names all over it. i love you too, he mutters, pressing a kiss to phil’s lips


by @titaniasfics

Rated M

Canon compliant. Between the end of MJ and the Epilogue. Just a touch of magical realism.

Inspired by this Visual Prompt: X (slightly nsfw) . Written for Love in Panem’s Spring Showers April Challenge.

Autor’s note: I had a conversation once with @madamemarquise in which we discussed how vocal Everlark smut was in some fics (including my own). It gave me the idea of writing a smut drabble with no dialogue. Being “speechless,” the piece emerged as somewhat surreal, so that Katniss’s thoughts take on a “real” life of their own, hence the magical realism. Hope you enjoy!

Thanks to everyone who read and beta’d this - @eala-musings, @madamemarquise, @akai-echo, @mega-aulover and @thegirlfromoverthepond . You ladies are the best!

Katniss woke to a house in silence. Stretching languidly, she found herself in a tangle of bed sheets and pillows, now mostly cool where her skin did not touch them. When she turned her head into the pillow, she could smell both of them on it. Everywhere she slid her hand along the rumpled mattress cover, she recalled each kiss, each sigh, each grunt and thrust they’d battered each other with the night before. It had been a long night, but the memory of it made her body sing again.

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Infinity. ∞

my oil pastel sweetheart. I am sorry. I am sorry because I start every poem for you with we don’t talk anymore. I think about you more than the amount of conversations that we have actually shared. I’m sorry that I’m a lousy friend. trying to find myself within our silence is a dark rabbit hole– are you still lost? do you still cry because the pain just won’t go away? the last time I cried was when writing didn’t make sense to me. I think that and my thoughts go blank. flashback– a year ago, I was different. you called. I picked up. to this day, it’s still my favorite phone call. friends usually exchange words, but us? nothing. not even breathing. dried tears. empty. gone. not there. we tell our depression to meet and greet. I keep that memory in a special part of my brain– like Pandora’s box, I keep hope all for myself. a year later, I got rid of my old love letters. I’m sentimental, deeply attached to nevermore. a year later, I’m still high, but I’d like to think that I manage it better. they said that I lost myself. because I gained weight, no goals, maybe even end up like my father. you see a lot can happen in a year. the person that you talked to– five years of consistent love turned into a pile of ashes, it’s true, people come and go– no one needs to stay. everything happens for a reason. I write poetry because I fell in love. you do your hair a certain way because they told you it would look ugly on you. fuck them. I don’t have enough energy to please anyone except for myself. you hurt someone because they hurt you first, it doesn’t justify your mistakes. if you’re wrong, you’re wrong. simple. you go to the gym because that “man, you really lost yourself” still rings in my ear when you try to convince yourself that no matter if you’re in shape or not… you are more than enough. my big bro said that when someone loves you– really and truly loves you… it’s past the material things. we were in love for all of the wrong reasons, but it made me who I am today. a year later, we no longer talk and it makes me sad. a year later, I still remember our friendship. you once said that beyond my depression is where I am supposed to be. you were right.

Sam’s Perspective 12x12 Coda

So there are a lot of Codas out there..but I wanted to tell Sam’s side of the story.  This is my first attempt at a Coda.  I hope you like it!  Be gentle! (750 words)

Dean reached his hand out.  Sam did, too. They helped Cas up, who was still confused, stumbling, and dazed from what he had just suffered through.

“Let’s go home,” Dean had said, not taking his eyes off of Cas.

Mary drove the truck back while Sam drove the Impala.  Dean and Cas sat in the back.  Sam didn’t want either of them driving. Cas for obvious reasons, and Dean – well, Dean needed to be with Cas.

Sam stole a few quick glances in the rearview mirror and smiled.  He knew it was now fact, that Cas was indeed family.  Cas was laying back against Dean, his eyes closed, his body shaking, his breathing unsteady.  Dean was holding him close.  His back was to the door, both of their their legs stretched out in front of them across the length of the seat.  Cas was sitting between Deans legs, his back resting aginst Deans chest. Dean’s left arm was around Cas, holding Cas’s left hand with his, their fingers entwined together.  He rubbed his thumb back and forth across the back of Cas’s hand.  His right hand was up, fingers carding through Cas’s hair, while Cas’s right hand rested on Dean’s knee.  Dean was absent-mindedly kissing the back of Cas’s head, his own eyes staring off into the distance, out the other window, into the darkness.  They just sat there, close together, Cas relaxing in Dean’s gentle embrace.

Sam noticed that Dean was saying words that he couldn’t hear, but he figured he didn’t need to know anyway.  Hell, it took Cas practically dying for Dean to share this kind of emotion, this kind of feeling toward Cas.  Sam let them have their moment and looked ahead again, driving into the darkness toward home.

When they finally arrived at the bunker an hour or so later, both Dean and Cas had fallen asleep. They looked so calm and at peace that Sam didn’t really want to wake them up, but he knew they needed to get Cas inside.

“Hey Dean, buddy, we’re home”  Sam gently shook his brother’s shoulder.  It took a few gentle shakes, but soon Dean blinked, looked down at Cas and smiled a smile that would have been undetectable by most, but Sam saw it, and behind Dean he smiled too.

“S’m?” Dean responded sleepily.  “We home?”

“Yeah man, we’re home.  Let’s get you two inside.” Sam’s voice was like that of a concerned father, and he sort of felt that way, in this moment.

Dean shook his head, “I’m fine man, I just fell asleep.  Really, I jus – “ But Sam cut him off, his voice low and calm.  It was the caring voice of a brother who understood.

“It’s ok, Dean. Cas almost died tonight.  You’re allowed feelings.”

Dean just nodded, not really wanting to continue this conversation.

Sam helped Dean get Cas out of the car.  He was able to walk, but was still so fragile and out of it, that they both had to help him get inside.  Cas was still asleep, and completely exhausted from the events of the evening.

Sam didn’t need to ask where they were going to put him.  He just walked alongside Dean, straight to the elder Winchester’s bedroom. And Sam didn’t say a word when they laid Cas down on Dean’s bed after removing his trench coat and tie. And he remained silent when Dean brushed a wisp of Cas’s hair back into place, caressing his face.

“Take good care of him, Dean,” Sam whispered as he backed out slowly, closing the door behind him. Dean hadn’t said a word to Sam the whole time, nor did he ever take his eyes off of Cas.  He probably didn’t even notice Sam had left, or in fact, that he had even been there at all.  To Dean, it was just him and his angel.  The angel who loved him.

As the door clicked shut, Sam heard the whispered response coming from his shaken brother.

“I love you, too,”

Sam momentarily rested his eyes in his hand, wiping away the tears of joy and relief that he finally allowed himself to feel.  He headed to the library to pour himself a drink.  They were home, and everyone was safe.  And Dean was going to take care of Cas.

No - they were finally going to take care of each other.

Sam knew then that his family was complete.  What a day it had been.  He sat alone in the library, letting the tears stream down his face, now that no one was there to see him.  It was relief, it was happiness, it was exhaustion.  

Sam took a deep shaky breath, speaking to an empty room and to no one in particular, “Finally.”


Deadly Secrets

(gif credit to the creator)

Part One

Master List

Pairing: Jared x Reader
Word Count: 1,026
Warnings: language, death, homicide
A/N: Here’s the first part of my new Jared series! Just a fair warning that this is very dark and angsty, if you feel like that is too much for you then I would skip this. I am super proud of this story and I am so happy it’s finished and I can finally start posting it for you guys. Italics are flashbacks. If you’d like to be tagged let me know, in an ask (it’s the best way for me to keep track)! Hope you guys like it! Anyway, feedback for this is crucial! :)

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A Little Mistake Messenger

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8  Ch. 9

Summary:  MC has exciting news to tell Zen and the other RFA members. That is until the MC gets a shock from Zen. MC finds comfort in a close friend, Jumin Han.

Rating: M (language and adult themes)

Tags: Mystic Messenger, Jumin x MC, Zen x MC

Authors Note: I’ve been working on a 707 series while also working at this story as well. So that’s exciting! I hope my Jumin fanatics like myself reallllly enjoy this chapter. I’ve been listening to a Firefly music festival playlist for a lot of inspiration to get my butt in gear. 

I’d love to hear from you guys about what you like or what I can improve upon. Keep liking and sharing to spread the love <3 

Lazy weekends were the best weekends especially after Jumin got home from his business trip. Jumin was napping soundly on the couch Elizabeth the third purring on his chest with his hand on her body. I smiled to myself as I watched the two of them snoozing the afternoons away. I grabbed a blanket and gently laid it across his legs and on lower part of his chest. His top shirt buttons casually unbuttoned. Elizabeth moved in his arms at the startle of the blanket but settled back into her position once she realized I had helped her out.

I sat back down on the lounge chair and scrolled through my phone.

MC has logged into the Chatroom—

Jaehee: I’m relaxing at the beach getting some sun.

707: I burn to a crisp in the sun

Oh MC is here!

MC: Jaehee how is vacation going?

Jaehee: You can keep my job forever if you would like. 

Has Jumin ran you up a wall yet?

MC: hahaha hardly. 

Everything is good on our end, however business end is a different story.

Jaehee: What happened was it his father again?

MC: not quite Mr. Han per say more like Jumin’s fiance.

707: wait hes engaged that damn bastard

MC: no don’t misunderstand this is not his choosing.

Jaehee: and what happened?

MC: they may or may not believe that Jumin and I are-

Jaehee: He did what?

MC: Its just a misunderstanding, until Jumin can collect enough information to refuse this marriage proposal.

707: Oh thank God! 

I was worried that I would have to come save you from Jumins clutches. 

Defender of Justice to save the innocent MC from the gate keeper Jumin.

MC: all good on this end here! 

Seven don’t worry I’ll know who to call to save me next time.

707: All is well then.





-707 has logged out-

Jaehee: I have to go too I need another drink.

MC: Don’t have too much fun you have to come back soon!

Jaehee: No promises here.

–Jaehee has logged out—

 It was inevitable that I would run into Zen news on my Facebook page. South Korean Musical Actor Trending in the United States of America. I quickly scrolled past the news page my friends shared on Facebook. Hyun Ryu and Amelia Corina officially an item? I turned my phone over trying to ignore the burning feeling in my heart. 

I could not tear my eyes away at his calm and collected mannerism. Did he even lose any sleep over me? He looked as if he didn’t spend too much time letting a breakup hinder his acting and public appearance. Hyun was somebody now, and I was just holding him back. It took me a week and RFA taking turns keeping my mind occupied before I was finally composed enough to be alone.

Why was I craving to see him, was it because he was happy and doesn’t seem to be too worried about a cheating scandal? I still cared for Zen. I will always love him in some way or the other. I cant forget the man that he was before things started to go downhill. Still, I can admire him from afar. Maybe one day Jaehee and I can fangirl over him and we can bring the baby to watch Zen on the TV.

There were thousands of pictures mostly of Zen, and selfies on date nights. Late nights under the stars, his motorcycle, backstage at his musicals. Was he happy? Was he finally accomplishing his dreams? Did the woman in the new pictures know how he likes his DVD collection at home? How he snores lightly when he’s exhausted from a long night of drinking?

I looked at my camera roll on my phone hesitant to look at the beginning. If I wanted a clean slate I needed to delete photos off of my phone. It was going to be now or never. I selected every photo, video, selfie, and saved screen shots I had saved since I met him. I quickly hit the delete button before my heavy fingers would change their mind. Clearing out all the memories, and moments that I treasured the most with Zen. I took a deep breath as I emptied my trash bin on my phone.

I felt as if a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I could start looking forward to cute baby pictures. I finally opened my text messages and deleted any and every message with Zen involved in it. It would be better to rid myself of the temptation to look back and feel sorry about myself. I smiled to myself that I was finally released from a large amount of temptation to look at those photos that brought me so much happiness.

I was startled by Elizabeth crawling in my lap. I looked over at Jumin who was lazily stretching out on the couch with a loud groan. I pet her soft white fur as she sat down between my legs encouraging me to pet her.

“Have you decided to sit with the ladies?” I said to Elizabeth who was enjoying extra attention from another person.

She cozied herself up on my knee and sprawling out. “She just wants more attention” Jumin said groggily and I laughed at her cute little face and tail.

“Jumin, Elizabeth the Third needs a womanly figure in her life to keep her straight. Sometimes it’s good to take a short reprieve from her favorite and only man in her life.”

He laughed and sat up on the couch, blanket wrapped around his shoulders and hair disheveled in all directions. I smiled to myself at his rare and slightly appearance. Jumin would hate to look like a mess in front of anyone.

“What are you smiling at?” He asked looking at me seated on the edge of the couch arms resting on his legs.

“Nothing!” I told him scratching behind Elizabeth’s ears averting his stare and blush on my cheeks. I took out my phone and took a quick picture of Elly. I knew who to send this picture to, Seven. Seven immediately responded with heart emojis: “Elly my love! She is so adorable! Jumin however looks like he just woke up with the bad case of bed head.”

“Wait was I in that picture that you just took?” He asked sitting upright on the couch. “Maybe. A lady never divulges her secrets Jumin.” I teased and he smirked. “Can I see it?” He asked softly.
I got up and sat next to him on the couch and showed him the picture.

“God is that what my hair looks like?” He ran a hand through it in an attempt to fix it only making it stick further out. I laughed uncontrollably at his hair and his expression when he asked me if it looked any better. He got up and went to his room. “Can you help me since my efforts have been to no avail.”

“Yes Jumin.” I sat on the top of the couch and had him between my legs. “Let me know if I pull your hair.”

I carefully brushed his hair back towards my body. “Have you ever worn it any other way or has it always looked like this?”

“Its been the same for as long as I can remember.”

“Jumin have you ever been in relationships with other women before?”


“I didn’t mean for it to sound like that, I just never have seen you show interest in many women our age. Nothing is wrong with that I was just wondering.”

“Women are out for my fathers money and influence not so much myself. The way to my fathers heart seems to be through winning me over. None of them actually cared for me or was around long enough for one anyways. Most women only see me as money and future CEO.”

“I understand your difficulty then finding someone you can actually trust and talk too aside from V and Rika.”

“Yes it was only them for a while but now that V is absent and Rika passed I only have Elizabeth.”

“You have me too Jumin.”

“I know and I’m thankful for some sanity in the madness.” He sighed deeply. “How does it look?”

“It doesn’t look half bad pulled back.” I said and he got up to look at himself.

“If I didn’t look old before this makes me look much older now.”

“I think you look mature, well you already looked mature. More mature.” I said shuffling down to the couch.

“You think I would scare Jaehee if I wore it like this?” He asked smiling as he ruffled his hair out with a shake of his head and hair returned to its normal position on his head.

“I think she would think something was wrong.” He smiled shaking his head.

“What were you doing earlier on your phone? You looked upset?” He asked concerned tone in his voice.

“Hmm oh I was just deleting photos.”

“Of him?”

“Yes of him.” Silence deafened between the two of us before he spoke again.

“You still love him?”

“I don’t love him now but I think I always will hold a place for him. There is a baby that will probably remind me of Zen every day soon.”

“Is love a strange and powerful emotion?” He asked sitting back down on the couch his arms reclined back on the couch behind him. I looked at his face searching himself for some grasp on his tone and curiosity.

“Love?” How do I describe love?

“Well love is different for everyone,” I tried to explain. “Theres the love you have for your family or your father. The love you have for your friends V, Seven, Yoosung, and Jaehee. Finally there is romantic love that you feel towards another person.”

“I love Elizabeth the Third, is that more a familial love?”

“Yes exactly shes a part of your family.”

“Familial love is similar to when Yoosung and Seven talk about chocolate milk and cat jokes?” I nodded my head smiling. Jumin trying to make mental connections to the emotions he was feeling and putting a name to the emotion and it was written on a furrowed line on his forehead. The wrinkle he gets when he is deep in concentration and deep thought. He was silent again before he spoke up once more. 

“What about romantic love?” His asked softly in my direction. 

I took my time trying to find the right words in which to describe romantic love to him that would make the most sense. Your heart starts racing uncontrollably out of your chest around them. Your face gets red when they say anything remotely similar to flirting.” He nodded his head. “Do you find it hard to eat when you think about them?” he asked genuinely. “I think so depending on the situation.”

He met my eyes in an instant, “I think I know what it is.” His hand rested on top of my hand his eyes locked with mine. His fingers grasping onto the sides of my hand and making small circular motions with his pointer finger. I took a deep intake of air before speaking “Romantic or passionate love for another person I think is when you put the other person before yourself, and you worry not just for your needs but for theirs and in a more intimate way. Physically and mentally.” 

His dark eyes stared into my own and I was memorized at the deep color of them as our eyes locked onto one another. “I think I know what it is,” he said moving closer to me on the couch. My face felt warm under his intense stare. Jumin closed the space that was between his lips within inches of my own. I closed my eyes in anticipation of his warm lips to meet mine. His hand sliding to the back of my head. 

There was a loud knock on the door. I immediately sat back and lowered my eyes to avert his own. He cleared his throat and buttoned his shirt to check the door. 

“Jumi! I came to-“ a loud and shrilling high pitched voice pierced through the air and could only belong to the voice of a red-haired, overly perfumed woman in a purple dress.

“This is not a good time Sarah.” Jumin said and she barged into his home. Sarah threw open the door that Jumin was guarding. He palmed his head in frustration. .

“Oh shes here.” I shifted in my seat making sure my little baby bump was hidden from her watchful eye. Shit. The ultrasound was on his fridge. This could implicate Jumin already more than he already was.

“shes my lover of course she would be here.” Jumin said coming to sit by me leaning on the sofa arm casually.

“I brought something for Liz!”

“Elizabeth the third?” Jumin corrected

“yes the cat,” Sarah snared back at him.

I slowly got up to make my way over to the fridge. “Shall I let you two discuss?”

“No I want you to stay.” Jumin said grabbing my hand from my side. I turned to look at him and his expression pleading for help. His slim fingers intertwined into my own.

“So how did you two officially meet?”Sarah asked trying to latch herself onto Jumin. Her breasts spilling out of her top as she attempted to press herself to his arm. Jumin immediately shook her off in disgust and need for personal space. I gave him some space as he tried to push her off of him. 

“Well-“ I started when Jumin chimed in. 

“She is the coordinator for RFA parties for a while, and-“

“I have no interest in Jumin’s businesses, he’s a genuinely kind man with a huge heart.” I added as i looked at Sarah who looked like she bit into something sour and bitter. 

 “Romantic love will never last.”

Her comment struck a nerve deep within me. 

“I know that, more than anyone.” She started going through my papers i had laying on the dining room table. I stepped in front of her putting the papers back to their location.

“You have a limited amount of time with the people you love than you spend that time doing just that.”

“I have a right to see what those documents are since I am his fiance.”

“No you don’t. and No you are not. You can leave the gift for Elizabeth on the table and then escort yourself out.” I was fuming with annoyance. Jumin was smirking behind me at how little patience I had for this woman.

“Jumin are you going to let her speak to me in such ways? I know you are faking this relationship with your secretary. Wont you let me comfort you?”

“I find no issue with her tone.Is that so? We are faking it?” He said questionably at her comment. His arms folded against his chest in annoyance.

“MC.” Jumin said grabbing my arm and pulling myself towards him closely. He felt like he was on fire from the heat he was exuding.

“I want to be honest with my feelings for you. I had intentions on letting our relationship grow however I ant deny that there is a strong attraction to you. I cannot hold myself back any longer.”


I felt his hand on my chin and he pressed his lips firmly against mine. My mind went blank at his tender kiss. I wanted more. I needed more. But I also needed to breathe before I was consumed in his heat. I looked into Jumins eyes that were tenderly looking into my own. I don’t know how long we stood there just looking at each other. 

“You would kiss her in front of your own fiance!” Sarah screamed and loudly screaming at us both. Sarah must have let herself out on her own because I was too busy letting Jumin consume me with his tender kisses. Jumins hand placed behind my head. My hands holding tightly onto his shirt. I let my guard down and allowed myself to initiate the kiss again and pressed myself into his warm and soft lips. His tongue tracing around my lip as if asking for permission from my lips to enter.

He was the first to pull away his head resting on mine. “I have been wanting to kiss you for a long time now.” He smiled kissing my head as if I were a child. 

“Did you mean what you said earlier?”

“All of it.” He just held me tightly against his chest. 

“I have never felt this much before I met you.” He whispered into my ear and I smiled knowing that he was becoming more open with himself and allowing himself to feel. He pressed his lips against mine as if he was trying to consume the air in my lungs. My lips brushing against his over and over again.

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On The Door Step - part 1

Parings: Dean x Sister!Reader x Sam

Summary: In 2000, John Winchester opened the door to his current motel room and found a little girl at his feet, sleeping peacefully with a fuzzy white blanket tucking her in a wicker basket. Now, nearly 16 years later, (Y/N) has still yet to find herself in the world of the Winchesters.


Warning: Slight season 10/11 spoilers, moody teenager, cursing, angry Dean, mentions of character death

Words:  1,332

A/N: Hi again, just wanted to thank everyone for the notes on the prologue. After a while of thinking over the story, I have discovered what I wish to do with it! And I apologize in advance for long periods between posts. Enjoy!

My bare feet feel cold against the bunker’s tile floor as I make my way to the kitchen in the dark. The sleeves of the huge hoodie Sam bought me last Christmas cover my hands, keeping them warm from the chilly air. Expecting to see my brothers sitting at the table, their faces glued to computer screens and bodies jittery from caffeine, my heart sinks closer to my stomach when I find the kitchen empty.

“Where the hell are you?” I breathe into the empty space.

I check my phone, reloading my messages. Nothing. Radio silence.

Sam left me at the bunker a week ago, telling me he had to stop Dean from doing something stupid again. He’d given me a hug, a kiss on the forehead and then rushed out the door in a blur. Other than a message explaining how I have to stay in the bunker and that they’ll call me out of school until further notice three days ago, there’s been nothing.

Balling the ends of my sleeve into my hands, I cross my arms and sink into the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. The dark thoughts I have been fighting so hard to keep back come creeping back in.

I haven’t even heard anything from Castiel or Charlie… At least one of them would give me some kind of update.

I run my fingers through my hair, slightly pulling at the strands as I can feel the tears weld up in my eyes. They can’t be dead. They’re Winchesters.

Just as I’m edging on the ledge of an anxiety attack, my phone lights up and vibrates against the tile floor. I scramble to pick it up, dropping it in the process of switching the small green icon to answer the call from Sam.

“Sammy?” I ask weakly, biting on my thumbnail and hoping it’s not an officer calling me because they found their bodies.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Sam says calmly and releasing a sigh. “I’ve been meaning to call, but things have been… busy.”

I roll my eyes. They’re always hiding things, or trying to hide things from me. They dropped me off at a library before they asked the man who cut off his arm questions and they also tried to cover up the fact that that man’s family was going to burn the bunker to the ground (I wasn’t home for that either, they thought it would be best to drop me off at Jody’s for the weekend).

They can never tell me everything.

“Is Dean okay? And have you heard anything from Charlie, she hasn’t been answering.”

Sam takes a moment to breathe deeply, and I can just imagine how tired and stressed he looks. A heartbeat later, Sam’s ready to talk.

“(Y/N), Charlie’s dead.”

“What?! When?!”

“She’s been dead for a couple of weeks, (Y/N/N).” Tears well up in my eyes, and I have to fight them from falling. “Dean killed the men that did it.”

Of course he did.

“Castiel isn’t doing to well, but the three of us will be home soon.” With that, Sam hangs up and I close my eyes as a few tears trail down my cheek. She was my best friend. How could they not tell me? How come it took so long to tell me?!

I can feel the slow simmer of my blood beneath my flesh and my eyes flicker to the digital clock on my phone’s screen. I have an hour to get to school.

My fingers hold the ice pack against my eye lid as my body shifts in the chair across from the principal’s office door. The secretary judges me from her thick pink rimmed glasses, and I glare back at her in response. My leg bounces with the left over adrenaline from the fight that had just taken place in my math class. To be honest, I don’t know the kid that I started this fight with, I’m not even sure he deserved it, but I had to do something.

“Winchester,” Principal Young calls from her office door, just as Dean and Sam walk into the front office. They both catch the eye of the secretary, and I snicker as she ogles at them. Dean glares at me, silently asking me if I think this is funny (he’s completely unaware of the old woman practically drooling over them). 

I quickly make my way to the small office and take a seat in front of the wooden desk, my hands between my legs and my head ducked down. Young takes his seat at the desk, pointing to the other two uncomfortable chairs for my brothers to sit. Once they do, he sets to work, explaining that I have one last chance to clean up my act or I’ll be expelled.

Young finishes by giving the same spiel that he’s given me before. “You’re a good student,” “You have good grade, you just need a better attitude.” The same tune… yadda yadda.

Frustrated, I drop kick the ice pack into the parking lot once we were excused. Dean is the first to speak up.

“So, what? We come home and you decide you just have to punch the first kid you see?” He hollers, tossing my book bag at me. My bag drops to the concrete, the zipper undoing and spilling the contents. I watch the blank notebook papers dance in the air, tucking my hair behind my ears before bending down to pick it up.


“No, Sam! I wanna know!” Dean continues to yell, tossing his hands up. “Every time we’re gone, you’re “the best student of the school” but when we’re here, you seem to lose your fucking mind!” 

“Dean!” Sam shouts at our brother, pulling on his shoulder to force him to stop. “You’re making it worse.”

My body feels extremely warm and my cheeks are damp with tears I hadn’t realized I was shedding. My stomach clenches tight and my vision blurs with the unsheded salty water and my shoulders quiver and the palms of my hands dig into my eyes as the reality really sets in that Charlie is gone.

“(Y/N)?” Dean kneels down and places a hand on my shoulder.

“I miss her,” I meet his eyes, my voice quivering. I haven’t cried this hard since Sam dragged Dean’s wounded body to his room, telling me that Metatron killed him.

Dean pulls me into his chest, my fingers wrapping tightly around the flannel. Dean hugs me tight, smoothing out my hair, mumbling, “I miss her too.”

After several long minutes of my brothers giving me hugs, Sam walks me to the car with me tucked under his arm, promising me that we’ll get back to the bunker and we’ll sit down and watch whatever movie I want. No matter how cheesy and romantic it is, we’ll watch it.

Castiel greets me with a weak smile as I take my spot in the back of the Impala, and my eyes drift to the cuffs around his wrist. My eyebrows raise, “why is he cuffed?”

“Rowena did something,” Sam answers bluntly. “We’re taking precautions.” Nodding along to Sam’s words, I tuck my bag between the seats and smile at Cas.

“Would you like me to heal that?” Castiel huffs out, slowly raising a hand towards his own eye. Before I can speak, Dean interrupts.

“Cas, you need your strength.” Cas seems to ignore my brother, still watching me as he waits for an answer.

“No, I’m good.” I sniffle, forcing a large smile. “It adds character anyways.”

Castiel smiles weakly before resting his head back and slightly closing his eyes. Dean speeds out of the parking lot, Sam grumbling something underneath his breath, and I lean back into the seat, my eyes growing heavy as I watch the trees pass by.

I’ll never forget you, Charlie. I close my eyes, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she can hear me wherever she is.


anonymous asked:

Can you write about Sara way more in your fics? She's so fucking hot and like??? I need more???

So I actually wrote this for a prompt my girlfriend gave me months ago (whoopsadasie it took me so long to get to), and since I’m in a Sara mood (and apparently yall are too), here, have some SmoakingCanary.

This was not quite the way Felicity had anticipated her Chanukah going.

Stuck in the airport because her flight home to Vegas was delayed? That wasn’t the surprising part. That was the typical part.

No, the part that was surprising was that, sitting in the terminal next to her, legs spread wide, body apparently relaxed but eyes intensely alert, was Sara Lance.

“I’m sorry,” Felicity turned and told her for what Sara counted as the sixteenth time in the hour since the delay had been announced. And that wasn’t even accounting for all the times that Felicity had opened her mouth, caught Sara’s sidelong glance, and closed it again without saying anything.

“Ollie wanted to make sure you get on your plane safe,” Sara had explained with a small smirk for the first four times. “It’s not your fault it’s delayed.”

Now, Sara just looked at her, saw the genuine concern in her eyes as the announcement went up that the flight was delayed for yet another hour.

“Come on,” Sara determined as the would-be passengers around them started to groan and disperse angrily. She rose faster than Felicity could track, and she held her hand out to her, waggling her fingers.

Felicity accepted her hand with wide, tentative eyes and tried to ignore the way Sara’s touch made her pulse race. Sara didn’t make that any easier when she gave Felicity a lopsided grin and, in one fluid motion, hoisted Felicity’s carry on over her shoulder and took her rolling suitcase into her hand briefcase-style.

“Where are we going?”

“Only place to go this time of night in a small town airport like this: the bar.”

“Whatever’s on tap for me, and uh – for the lady?”

The bottom threatened to drop out of Felicity’s stomach at the way Sara turned to her, the way her lips quirked into a subtle grin, the way she took care to make sure neither of Felicity’s bags touched the ground, the way she lifted them with almost exaggerated ease. The way her eyes burned with chivalry and with mild, but deeply affectionate, suggestion.

The salmon ladder came unbidden to Felicity’s mind.

The gentleness of Sara’s utterly lethal hands on her bare skin when she stitched her up.

She wondered, not for the first time – and hated herself for wondering – how Sara learned to stitch flesh together.

She realized with a slight jolt that Sara’s sharp, soft eyes were on her, and so were the haggard-looking bartender’s.

“Oh. For me. To drink. Because you said the lady and I was looking around for a dame or a – you’re not interested in my – tequila. A shot of tequila.” She dared to glance at Sara’s kind but amused eyes.

“Double. A double shot. Of tequila. Not arrows or bullets or – “

“Felicity,” Sara interrupted softly, no trace of annoyance in her rich voice, but a hint of something that Felicity thought might be warning.

That the bartender might start to ask questions if she kept rambling like that.

That Sara might kiss her if she kept rambling like that.

She had no idea where that thought came from. None at all.

She kicked back the shot almost the moment the bartender set it in front of her.

“Where’s the fire?” Sara wondered aloud as she nodded at the bartender, gestured that he should keep the change, and sipped at her beer.

“I’m seeing my mother soon. Well, not soon, at the rate this flight’s getting delayed. But you know. Never can be too prepared.”

Sara watched her fiddle with her empty shot glass thoughtfully.

“Tough when parents don’t quite know how to love their kids.”

Felicity’s eyes flew wide and she reached out as though to touch Sara’s arm, but stopped frustratingly short.

“I’m sorry, Sara, I didn’t – I shouldn’t be whining to you of all people about family issues – “

Sara’s rueful chuckle cut her off. “Well, who else would you talk to? Oliver’s father tasked him with returning from hell to save his city, his mother and sister mean everything to him but don’t know who he is; John’s still so haunted by his brother’s death he can barely think about anything else. I’d say I’m as good a bet as you’ve got. So… not so easy with your mom?”

Felicity blinked, feeling mildly like she had when Oliver, Dig, and Sara had been standing around shirtless – why are you focusing on the shirtless part, don’t think about the shirtless part, who thinks about the shirtless part or how far down the contours of her abs go? – comparing battle scars.

You’re cute.

“It’s nothing worth complaining about.” Her stomach growled of its own accord and she straightened. “Hey. You know what I want?”

Sara’s lips twitched again and Felicity found herself wondering if Sara thought of her as a friend or as entertainment. The warmth in her eyes made a forceful argument for the former.

“You think any of the restaurants are open this late here?”

“No,” the bartender grunted before Sara got the chance. “You want more liquor, I’m your guy. You want food? Logic of the joint seems to be you should’ve thought about that earlier.”

Sara arched an eyebrow at him and set her unfinished beer back on the bar. “Come on,” she beckoned Felicity, something gleaming in her eyes that told her not to ask – not yet – where they were going.

She just gulped as Sara effortlessly gathered her bags again, laughing softly, more to herself than anything else, when Felicity reached to try and help.

Felicity blinked and opened and closed her mouth rapidly, helpless to do anything but follow Sara.

“So… where are we going?” she asked when she caught up, and she knew – because she knew Sara, she knew Oliver, and hell, she knew John – that Sara was casing the place.

Even more than she did everywhere she went, automatically.

Sara smirked and tilted her head toward Felicity but kept her eyes sweeping around the mostly empty airport. “You’re hungry.”

Felicity flushed. “I’m fine. I’m not a kid, I can wait – “

“Hunger isn’t childish. It hurts,” Sara said softly, and Felicity wondered, for the thousandth time, how in the hell this woman could still smile. Could still be soft. Could still stand. Could still breathe.

“Sara, I’m okay,” she tried again in a gentle voice, putting her hand softly on Sara’s forearm. They both looked down at the place their skin touched, and they both lost themselves for a moment in a universe of what ifs.

Sara found her way out first, that sparkle that so awed Felicity sparking back into her eyes.

“It’s not problem,” she told her, jerking her head toward the locked-up snack bar behind them.

Almost before Felicity could react, Sara was on her knees, making quick work of the lock with the penknife in her boot. Without hesitation and without breaking rhythm, she scoped out three of Felicity’s favorite protein bars and a couple of hummus-cracker packets she had such a weakness for.

She didn’t ask how Sara knew, because she knew how much Sara had been trained to observe, to retain. To store in her mind in case survival needed her to remember one day.

Suddenly, Sara straightened with a lightening speed that almost made Felicity gasp.


Because suddenly, Sara’s soft lips were on hers.

She almost squeaked and she definitely swooned, but Sara’s hands – free, now, so she must have stashed the snacks somewhere – were firm and strong yet so, so small on Felicity’s back, in her hair. Felicity wasn’t sure what or why, but she was abundantly sure how Sara’s lips were making her feel, and she sighed into the kiss, opening her mouth for Sara’s gentle tongue, and Sara did something Felicity had never dreamed she could make someone as unshakeable as Sara do: Sara moaned softly and – unless Felicity was completely imagining things, which to be honest seemed fairly possible at the moment – nearly swooned.

But then Felicity was gasping for breath – gasping into empty, empty air, not Sara’s warm mouth – and her entire body keened with the loss.

It took her a few long moments to realize that Sara was speaking.

“I’m sorry, Felicity, I… that’s not how I normally like to kick things off with such a beautiful woman, but uh…” She jerked her head back toward an airport security guard who must have just passed behind them. “Ollie told me to take care of you, and getting caught and getting above the radar by stealing very valuable airport snacks wouldn’t have qualified… Kissing tends to be a good way to make people avert their eyes, or at least pay attention to different things… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I just wanted to protect you without having to get into an altercation. I am so sorry.”

Felicity blinked rapidly and fought not to adjust her glasses, not to grab Sara’s face and pull her back in for another round.

“Uncomf – un – no, why would you have made me – I’m single, you’re single, girls can be single together, or not single together, or in your case, not that you even liked it – “

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, Felicity – “

“No, it’s okay, you were just doing your job. Not that I’m your job. Or that you were doing me. Just that you were – “


Sara’s eyes were warm and her eyes flickered down to Felicity’s lips slowly, adoringly, leaving her with no doubt that no. No, Sara hadn’t just been doing her job. Or at least, it hadn’t been an unpleasant part of doing her job.

But she might very well like to do Felicity, if she wanted.

“Yeah.” She was breathless and she was hopeful and she was suddenly very, very glad her flight had been postponed.

“You’re still cute.”

I Won’t Say I’m In Love - James x Reader


Word count: 1,4k

Originally posted by marauderseraimagines

The sun had set just as the Gryffindor Quidditch practice ended, the April twilight making the air cool rapidly as you sat in the bleachers with Remus. Usually, Sirius sat there with you too, but a member of the team was sick, so he’d filled in to help the team practice, meaning he was down in the pitch with James.

They were packing up the equipment, and your gaze had wandered to the head of curly dark hair down below, an inadvertent smile on your lips.

“Who you thinking of?” Remus asked, a very teasing look in his eyes as he caught your glance.

“What? No one!” you replied, heat rising to your cheeks as you realized he’d caught you staring at James. “Just had my head in the clouds,” you tried, your voice more confident than you were.

He chuckled at your reaction, before examining you intently.

“So what’s the deal with you and Prongs, lately?” he asked, trying to be laid back but the curiosity seeping into his voice.

Keep reading

We Had Some Good Times Didn’t We?

Summary: A final walk through the London flat stirs up some powerful memories for Dan and Phil–along with a certain excitement for what’s to come.

Word Count: 1.1k

Genre: Pure Fluff

Warnings: none

Read on ao3

A/N:  I told myself I wasn’t going to write a moving fic, but clearly my feelings were too much to contain….and this sort of happened. I hope you enjoy!!

Keep reading

We don’t believe what’s on TV -Chapter 3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8

Resume: I had an ordinary life, or that’s what I wanted to believe. I lost myself in the TV series that I listened to forget the normal boring life. What I didn’t know, however, was that my life would change completely overnight.

Finding myself in 2013 at Beacon Hills County.

This will be a Stiles x Reader but only further in the story

Tags: @kwien-cee @saoirsewhittle @standalls @anonimereader06@shantayok@thiscuriouslymiss @dashofsunshineblog

In this chapter: Finding an explanation. Help. A solution. Understanding.

I had regained consciousness for several minutes already, but I didn’t dare to move or open my eyes. I was afraid of what I was going to see when I woke up, afraid of still being in this other unreal reality. What a lapse, an unrealistic reality. I could hear the beep of the heart monitor, the people moving around, and I felt the same antiseptic smell that poked my nose. I was back in that damn hospital bed, with slight chances of being back in my world. I felt the previous panic coming down. I had gone mad, okay, but panicking like that wouldn’t bring me anything good or going to help me understand.

Taking advantage of the tranquility I had, pretending to be still asleep, I began to think. I passed all the seasons of the show in my head, one at a time, trying to find an excuse, a possibility. The nemeton? It had the power to attract supernatural beings … but I wasn’t one, so I ripped off that possibility. The ghostriders? They roamed the worlds by riding horses and lightning … but I was sure no lightning or smoke had struck me before I found myself in this forest. There were several elements that didn’t work and I couldn’t figure out how I could have found myself in this world. And a major element that didn’t work was the presence of Allison Argent, who was supposed to be dead since season 3B.

Then I remembered the pain that I felt in my heart when I saw her. It was probably due to the shock to see her alive.

Seriously … why me, why now, why here? How do I wake up from this dream? How do I find my reality? As I couldn’t wake up from this dream, there were two possibilities left, madness and … I didn’t even wanted to think about the last possibility. The one that I was in the world of my favorite series, with my favorite characters.

Including some hyperactive teen with pale skin and moles that took 80% of my cell phone picture space. That same boy that often populated the world of my dreams.

My phone! There had to be proofs of my life, pictures of me and my friends, my family!

And especially pictures of the show, which I would have to explain… I absolutely had to get back my phone.

I had to wake up one day. So slowly opened my eyes and immediately felt my heart beat in my throat. I had to calm down, to be strong, to understand.

However, what I saw didn’t help me calm down.

My wrist that wasn’t wounded was tied with thick, solid straps to the bed-rails. They really didn’t want me to leave.

“I’m sorry; we didn’t have a choice …”

I recognized the voice without raising my head. It was Sheriff Stilinski, who this time hadn’t taken a chance and had decided to stay until I woke up.

“You could have seriously hurt yourself, you know.”

I decided not to answer him right away. I shouldn’t talk too much, I preferred to wait and see what happens next. Staying silent throughout his interrogation if the need was.

The sheriff rose and approached my bed and I kept my head down and my mouth closed.

“I’d like to understand what happened to you, young girl. I only want to help you, and for now your parents must be very worried. Can you give us their number? ”

For a moment I almost opened my mouth to tell him. Tell him everything. After all, it was Stiles’ father, and he knew about the supernatural. Perhaps he would understand me. But I didn’t. I kept my mouth shut because I knew that even if he called my number, no one would answer. Because in this world, I doesn’t exist.

Seeing my silence, the sheriff sighed.

“Can you tell me your name?”

I thought for a moment before answering. I could tell him that.

“Y / N …” I mumbled in a hoarse voice before scraping my throat. My mouth was very dry.

“Well, it’s a start,” he added, and then noted it on a piece of paper. “And you’re from here, Y / N?” He asked me.

I hesitated again. If I told him, would he understand? Should I take that risk?

At the same moment the door opened, causing me to lift my head from the void I was staring at. It was Melissa, who came in to whisper something to the sheriff, something I heard.

“Eichen House says that no patient of her age has escaped recently.”

In the name Eichen house, my whole body tensed. That cursed place. The place where Stiles had gone in season 3B. The place where Lydia’s grandmother had been killed, the place where Lydia had been locked up in Season 5, and where a crazy doctor had made holes in her head.

“But they are ready to take her if it is necessary.”

My breath stopped and I began to panic. There was no way that I’ll go there, there was no way! My eyes filled with water and I pulled on my bonds looking at the two adults with horror, wide-eyed.

“Not there …” I mumbled, which made them both raise their heads.

“Then you must tell me everything,” the sheriff continued, now having a pressure on me to make me talk. I watched them, trapped. I was going to have to tell them everything, hoping that they would believe me and not send me to the psychiatric facility of misfortune. I took a deep breath, and opened my mouth to speak.

“I come from another …”

The pain paralyzed me in the middle of my sentence. The same pain. Piercing my heart, radiating through my chest, cutting my breath and emptying my head of all thought. The pain was intolerable. The monitor next to me began to make strange noises and lights flashed. I heard Melissa shouting something, rushing towards me, all in a mist of pain. It was intolerable; I would rather have died than to experience this pain.

A stifled cry echoed in my ears and I took some time to realize it was coming from me.

Then, as suddenly as the pain had appeared, it disappeared. The beep stabilized at the same time that other doctors came running into my room. For my part, I slowly picked up my breath, my mouth open in search of air. Slowly I began to feel better and waved to them that everything was fine, but I saw in everyone eyes that they didn’t believe me.

“I … I’m okay …”

Melissa put her hand on my head to take my temperature and immediately removed it by giving instructions to the other doctors.

“We must lower its temperature …”

But I wasn’t listening to their conversation. The same pain. It was the same pain I felt when I saw Allison. The same suffering. And just before I felt it, I had said something. Something that had happened in the series. And the other time it was about the place I came from, my world. There were no correlation between these information… a truth? Like what I just tried to say?

So every time I try to tell the truth, a pain pierced my chest to stop me? Why? I thought for a moment, lost in my thoughts.

Something that didn’t exist, something that hadn’t happened yet… Something I’m not supposed to know…?

Allison’s death…

I finally understood.

“What year…”

Melissa dropped my sack of solute, and the sheriff came up to me, worrying.


I closed my eyes before reopening them and fixing both of them.

“What year is it”

The two looked at each other before turning towards me, their eyes softened, filled with pity. For them, I was crazy, they found me in the middle of the night near the forest, wounded, I just had what looked like a strange cardiac arrest and then asked them which year we were.


I jumped and stopped breathing.

“What …?” I say wide-eyed.

“We’re in 2013,” Melissa repeated, putting a refreshing towel on my burning forehead.

Everything was clear. Allison’s presence.

She wasn’t dead yet. And I wasn’t supposed to know she was going to die.

“Everything’s fine?” The sheriff asked, waiting for me to feel better before continuing with his questions. “I can come back later for questions if you don’t feel well…”

“No,” I cut him, eyes still in the void. “ I… ”

He approached me again, and I lifted my head to meet his gaze. I could only do one thing.

“I don’t remember anything,” I said.

I had to act as if I knew nothing. Forget my life before. I no longer existed, after all. He wrote my confidence on his paper before looking at me sadly.

“Really nothing?” He asked me.

“Only my name,” I answered, fixing my tied wrist. I didn’t like to lie, but if telling the truth was hurting me, I had to deal with it.

“Okay … then according to the procedure, we’re going to make calls everywhere for missing children. In the meantime, you’ll be placed in foster care…”

He didn’t finish his sentence and took Melissa further to talk to her. It’s crazy how people think that just because they whisper you can’t hear them.

“She seems disturbed, it might be better to call Eichen House,” he whispered.

“You saw her expression when we talked about it, she looked scared …” Melissa replied.

I shuddered as I heard the name of the accursed establishment again. I was frightened by the idea of going there, and also by everything that was going on. It was too much for me, I only wanted to go home, how fun it was to be in his favorite show if it means to spend his life in foster care, or worse, in Eichen House?

A sudden idea appeared in my head. It was risky, I was going to have to say something I wasn’t supposed to know, and I knew that the pain was going to hit me again. But I knew he was going to believe me and that he was going to help me.

“Scott …” I mumbled waiting for the pain, but nothing happened.

Melissa turned to me, intrigued to hear her son’s name coming out of an amnesic girl’s mouth. But I knew that Mrs. McCall knew the truth about the supernatural since season 2, and that the year 2013 was in the middle of season 3a or 3b. So I could count on her and especially on her son to help me.

“What did you say?”

Taken with a sudden courage and relief that I could pronounce his name, I repeat it more loudly and clearly.

“I want to talk to Scott McCall.”

In the next chapter: Finally, I meet one of the main characters of the show! So why am I so stressed out about it? Probably because I asked to talk to him and I don’t even know what to say? Or how I’ll react in front of him?

                                                                                                 Next Chapter->