but something had to be made in order to pour out all my frustration

Star-Crossed (M)

[]

☆Genre: Angst/Fluff/Smut || CEO!Jimin

☆Pairing: Jimin x Reader

☆Length: 22.7k

☆Summary: Like a constellation hung from the skies above, he who had once illuminated the lackluster night sky of the bustling city appeared to you like  a meteor shower raining upon the pitch black horizon, And just as quick and abrupt as the celestial display had graced its way through the lonely skies above, he left just as suddenly as it had arrived. But you should’ve expected this ill-fated story, a waitress struggling to get by had never been fitting of an heir-to-be CEO. What was written in the stars was written into history, and history is an irrevocable phenomenon that cannot be reversed.

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food truck au 2/??

(PART ONE HERE)

Jack had one blissful week of texting Eric in peace before his teammates caught on.

“ZIMMBONI,” Tater shouted across the dressing room at the end of practice that day. “Who you texting that make you smile so big?”

In a scary sort of tandem, Ransom and Holster whipped around to look at him.

“Yeah, Zimmboni,” Holster parroted. “Who ya texting?”

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The Pawns And The Kings

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Originally posted by bangtanbtsmut

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Smut

Plot: The reader is kidnapped, left alone in utter darkness. Once the day of her auctioning comes, she’s given to the head of one of the worlds most powerful gangs, Jungkook. She was nothing but a gift to him. But her little soul turns out to have the power to turn the tides in the worlds angriest ocean. And it turns out, Jungkook isn’t the only man whom eyes have settled upon her.

Warning, this chapter contains strong sexual language, and is smut.  It contains fingering. 


I had never really felt something so disguised by love. A feeling that betrays my mind and feeds my body, and in return my heart becomes vulnerable. Lust. I had never really felt it once in my life, up until now. But I still don’t understand it. The very feeling of it, the desire that bubbles up in your stomach, clouds your judgement and erases any of your critical thinking skills.

Oh how he flooded me with this feeling, the dopamine he released within my brain, the endorphin’s that acted out of pure desire for pleasure, one that he could create and expect for me to return. I had always seen it as a sin, but he makes me see it as an addiction.

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Holding You Back (Smut)

A/N: I’m in Prague this week with a friend and I set this to upload on it’s own so hopefully it works. A little trigger warning towards the end.
Requested to write a smut about the videos of the boys playing billiard in Glasgow and using some vibes from There’s Nothing Holdin’ Me Back too.

Word count: 5,323

“I swear he’s looking at you again” Ollie grinned, smiling at me widely. He put a couple of bottles with liquor back on their place, not taking his friendly eyes of me.

“Who?” I asked, grabbing two more glasses from the counter. I poured vodka in them both first, then some red bull before putting ice in both glasses.

“The tall, dark-haired guy” he said, nodding in the direction of the billiard tables in the other end of the bar.

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Hey, all!  Amy here and feel free to skip this, but I noticed a huge thing going around with fanfiction writers and fanfiction readers. Kinda throwing arrows at one another over mistakes and how they should be addressed.

Okay, first off: stop.  Ew.  It’s gross. Y’all are big boys and girls and y’all can act like it.  You don’t need to attack each other at the knees behind the safety of your screens.

Secondly:  there are points on both sides.  People who write have a right to be proud of their work and can choose not to accept criticism.  On the other hand, people who read and absorb the work have the right as well to point out mistakes they noticed if it’s meant to be helpful.

So how can people interact civilly when it comes to fanfiction and it’s accompanying critiques? By following a few internet rules, plain and simple.  No, I’m not gonna tell you to forgive and forget or just roll over and let the other person have their way.  That’s not what you do IRL and that’s not what you do online either.  Instead, both persons have a series of rules to follow in order to try and make the most of their experience.

Originally posted by m-blunicorn

FOR THE WRITERS:

I start with you because you’re the ones who have poured your heart and soul into this baby. And I get it, I do.  When you spend hours and hours slaving over your baby, going over the idea thousands of times in your head, trying to get the idea on paper, and trying to make it look good, then oh heck to the yes it’s your baby and you’re gonna defend it to the death.  I expect that and that’s okay.  What’s not okay is when it interferes with your ability to check in with the situation and see if they actually meant harm, so here are a few rules I’ve started to use over my years of fanfiction writing:

  1. Read the entire comment for content.  This is a bitter pill to take, especially if they sound condescending or snarky.  I’ve run into a few of them, and they’re never pleasant to deal with, but some of them have good ideas.  Try to filter out the junk of the comment and get to the meat of it all.  (I’ll get to what to do if there’s no meat later)
  2. Take a break from the comment when you get angry. And chances are that if it’s an unsolicited comment, you’re going to get angry.  This is your baby and you’ve worked hard on it.  If the crtiquer isn’t at least taking that into account, you may even get furious.  Get up and walk away.  They do not deserve your wrath.
  3. Decide for yourself if they have a point. Most critiquers tend to leave their comments because they’re trying to help in their own (somewhat obnoxious) way. If they’ve got a point, thank them, but also try to express if the critique was delivered well.  If it was, tell them so they can help more people. If not, tell them so they can work on it.  IF THEY DO NOT HAVE ANY POINT AT ALL AND ARE JUST BEING RUDE, get rid of it.  They’re not worth your time.
  4. Respond or toss.  This is up to you.  If they had content that was actually useful, then they were being helpful like they were trying to be.  If they had content and it wasn’t useful, it’s up to you what to do.  If they had zero content in their critique or it wasn’t relevant at all, skip it.  They’re not worth your time.

I actually formed these rules after an encounter with a critiquer who was completely neutral in tone, blurted my mistakes for the world to see, and essentially made me feel like the absolute worst writer in the world.  They weren’t harsh, but their critique did hurt me, especially because I’d still just been starting out.

The first thing that happened was I got angry.  I was livid, furious.  Like, how dare they?  Couldn’t they just sit back and enjoy the story?  I spent a good week or so avoiding my fanfiction account just because I was so pissed off.  I ended up talking to my mom and she asked me if they had any points.  I think she was going for “if they don’t, then they’re not worth your time”, but they did. After that, I went back and tried to see it from their point of view.

Originally posted by geekylaugifs

Didn’t mean I suddenly wasn’t mad at them.  I was mad, but I also realized that they, in their own roundabout and hurtful (to me, who reads inflection into typed words and winces at every loud noise and criticism) way, were trying to help me.

I worked on it, and I don’t think they ever commented on my stuff again, but the people who already loved my stuff?  The people who said that my stuff was ‘cute’ or ‘genius’?  They loved it all the more!  The critiquer may not have stuck around, but those who did benefited.

(It really took me a long time to stop being angry at them.  Now I just kind of take a lesson from them.  As a fanfiction writer, and as a critiquer myself.)

Originally posted by trendinggifs

FOR THE CRITIQUER:

I’m saying this as someone who has pretty high standards for what I read.  I look into formatting, tenses, plot, characterization, spelling, and even comma usage!  These little things do actually bug me, and sometimes enough to the point of wanting to comment, but I’ve been on the other side of it and remember the frustration and the anger that can come from a wrongly worded comment, so there are a few rules that I’ve formulated in order to be the best critiquer I can be and help as many people as possible get as amazing as they can as a writer!

Note:  These rules are for critiquers who actually do want to help writers get better and improve the overall quality of internet written works. If you’re here because of some superiority complex, these rules may be difficult for you to follow.  I, however, encourage you to do your best and perhaps one day you’ll be a good critiquer.  *^_^*

  1. Find a way to figure out if the author even wants your critique.  One way to do this is to respectfully ask them.  Always open with a positive.  Something like “Hey, I liked ___ about your story, but I noticed something was a bit off. Can I give you a constructive critique?” Typically, an author would be happy to know you cared about their opinion, so this will go either one of two ways.  They will either (A) allow the critique and actually listen to what you have to say or (B) politely decline the offer.  This means they have made up their mind and you are to let it go.  The back button is a wonderful friend at this point.
  2. Follow the sandwich format.  This is a tried and true method for getting people to actually listen.  If you start in with the critique, the author will feel attacked and immediately get defensive.  Instead of wondering if you’ve got any point, they will find ways to contradict you and argue.  Instead, open with something you liked about the story.  There was a reason you read it all to the end, wasn’t there?  Mention that first (AND BE HONEST!  NO ONE LIKES SOMEONE WHO GIVES OUT FALSE COMPLIMENTS), and then get to the critique, or ‘meat’, of your critique.  When that’s done, exit with a thank-you for being willing to listen to your comments.  It takes a lot for a creator to listen to someone point out the flaws in their baby, even if they’re trying to learn.  Remember that you want this to be a positive interaction, not a demolition derby.
  3. No insults or other derogatory comments. Unless explicitly stated otherwise, the writer is trying their best.  Insulting them makes them less willing to hear you out, much less accept your comments and get better.
  4. No elevating yourself over them.  It’s a no-brainer.  You’re not there to school them, you’re there to help them.  Helping requires a serving mind, which puts their needs before your ego.
  5. Do not hound the author.  If they listen but don’t take your comments, you’re not allowed to harass them.  Most likely, they don’t see a point in your comment and have elected to ignore it. And that’s fine.  The point is that you managed to bring it to their attention once.  Maybe they’ll come back to it later, maybe not.  Either way, once your critique is given, it’s done.  Unless they come to you asking about it, your job is to pack up and vamoose, or simply to sit back and enjoy watching the rest of the story unfold.
  6. Make sure your comments are objective.  Like, if there’s a comma problem, tell them about it. If there’s verb tenses being messed up, inform them politely.  If person A didn’t get with person B, then you’re not critiquing.  That’s a matter of opinion and doesn’t belong in the critiquing category.
  7. Be respectful.  They’re going on a limb and listening to you, and it’s the author’s choice whether or not to continue the correspondence. You don’t have to ‘kiss up to them’ or ‘serve them’, but you have to make sure you’re not being a jerk and that all your comments are warranted.

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

I know there are a lot of rules, but critiquing is hard, especially with how a lot of people view them.  But you, the critiquer, ARE NOT EVIL.  You’re not the bad guy.  You’re not messed up.  You’re not ‘sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong’.  You’re human and you’re trying to be helpful.  These are just tips and tricks on how to go about it the right way and maximize your helpfulness.

Originally posted by hippie-janessa

FOR EVERYONE!!

The last thing I’ll say is that not everyone will follow these rules.  They will think they’re stupid or pandering or all-around dumb. Some people who claim to critique will continue to slander our good name by acting like holier-than-thou snits. Some people who write will continue to get outrageously angry for persons daring to say something went wrong.

Originally posted by blisteredblue

Here’s how to deal with them:

  1. Leave the computer.  Or the website, just for a bit.  Enjoy the sunshine, take a walk, talk with your best friend, eat some ice cream, go play.  See if it just blows over.  They don’t get to take away your happiness because they’re angry.
  2. Delete the hate.  When you’re good and happy, you can delete the hate mail, or maybe grab a friend to laugh at it.  But don’t respond to hate with anger.  As my good friend Warlord Okeer said, you shall inflict “the greatest insult an enemy can suffer. To be ignored.”
  3. If they chase you down in anger, block them. This is okay to do.  For fanfiction writers:  if they continue to pester you with their comments after you say ‘no thanks’, block their tails.  For fanfiction critiquers:  if they got angry over a critique you gave, provided that they said okay and provided that you followed the rules of critiquing, you’re allowed to block them. You did it right.  Don’t even stress.

And then there are the times where we forget to follow the rules and insult someone on accident. It happens.  If you realize you’re in the wrong, it’s just one rule.

  1. Apologize.  No, you don’t have to grovel for forgiveness, but understand that your actions may have hurt someone else and react accordingly.  If they won’t take it, at least make the promise to yourself to be better in the future.

And that’s it.  I know it seems like a lot to swallow, but it all boils down to making sure your words are respectful, kind, and true.

Originally posted by fandomdeluxe

Tl;dr:  MAKE SURE YOUR WORDS ARE RESPECTFUL, KIND, AND TRUE!!

Tricks, Trust, and Treaties

Loki x Reader

Summary: Loki is allowed to freely roam the compound but he can’t be unsupervised, so you’re assigned to stay behind and babysit him while everyone else goes on a mission. He decides to do something nice for you as a peace treaty, but it blows up in his face - literally.

Warnings: language, fluff, food fights

Word Count: 4973

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write Loki for a long time, but he’s such a deeply complex character that I didn’t know what ‘part’ of him I wanted to go with first, or if I could ever do him the justice he deserves. I’m a sucker for secretly soft, gentle, loving, innocent, caring, wants-to-make-you-proud Loki, so I ended up going with that, but I may try to write other sides of him in the future. I really hope you all enjoy it! <3

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Nine to Five (Part 4)

Pairing: Stiles x Reader

Summary: Father Stiles AU. All Y/n wants is to find a new family to care for, when she comes across an AD in the newspaper, she couldn’t be happier. Stiles hires a new nanny for his daughter, but he soon realizes that he hired someone that would soon become much more than just a nanny. 

Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Originally posted by wydobrien


The strawberry blonde giggled as she swiped through the photos on your phone, making little comments; his hair is nice, his eyes are wow. Lydia insisted that you finally showed her photos of your boss, since it’s been over a month working for him, she was getting impatient. Stiles had added you on Facebook not too long ago, and you let her browse his page as long as she didn’t like anything from five years ago.

“He’s cute…. No, no, he’s fucking hot.” You rolled your eyes, grabbing your phone back and locking it; putting it back into your bag. You just got home from Stiles house after an awkward encounter at the front door and Lydia was waiting for you to return with cold pizza and wine. She complained that she ordered the pizza at six o'clock but you completely forget to text her you’ll be late due to Stiles working until after eight.

“Lydia, he’s my boss.” You whined, flinging your head back resting on your comfortable brown cushion sofa. “He’s my damn boss and all I can think about is running my hands over his chest and taking him right then and there.”

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*The Letter* Newt x reader

◘ Anonymous asked:

Newt x reader. Readers estranged parents find out that not only did she marry Newt but has had children with him. Once they find out that he’s now a famous author and your his illustrator they want part of his wealth

Hope you enjoy!! I really liked this idea! It’s rather long.. sorry not sorry. 

“Mommy, look!” Your five year old daughter, Ava, came running up to you while holding her favorite little Bowtruckle, Fern. She had pieced together a nice little hat for the creature wear and was extremely proud to present it to you. Giggling, you knelt down to get a closer look.

“And what will Daddy think when he see’s you’ve made another hat for Fern?” You smiled and tickled Ava, who gave out an enthusiastic laugh. 

“What’s all this laughing I hear?” Newt entered the room and looked down to see Ava holding Fern. “Making hats for the Bowtruckles again I see?” He smiled and knelt down to meet her eye level.

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Thunderstorm and Birthday Cake - Request

Requested by @snail-the-turtle : Can you please make one where Sherlock gets home to find you in 221B wrapped up in his trench coat because you’re scared of the thunder and lighting and the power had gone out
& anon: Sherlock x reader. The reader falls sleep waiting for Sherlock to come home from a case. She thought he forgot her birthday. But he didn’t one out

Pairing: Sherlock x reader.

Word count: 1.870

Warnings: I kind of stereotyped half of England, sorry about that. Also, self-conscious Sherlock.

A/N: I’m feeling fluffy this weekend. Also, this is special to certain someone who’s birthday was this week (you know who you are).

Enjoy!

London was usually a bad weather place; in fact, England was a bad weather place. When the sun came out, everyone went out too. One could see people sunbathing all over the place, whether it was on their own property or at the public park, but it was almost a law to go out when the sun wasn’t covered with clouds.

The weather was also a common topic of British conversations; in fact, everyone spoke about the weather as it was the most interesting subject on the planet, therefore Sherlock found out about the storm coming way before it happened.

Sherlock was at Lestrade’s office, fixing some files for the inspector to deliver as a solved case and explaining to him what and how to say it. The Inspector was paying his full attention to everything Sherlock said, but couldn’t stand the temptation of mentioning how grey the sky looked from the window in his office.

“It will be a thunderstorm,” Donovan added as she stormed inside the office. “The freak should go now before the power goes off and there are no cabbies left.”

Sherlock ignored her, as usual, but Lestrade agreed. “Besides, isn’t it (Y/N)’s birthday?” The inspector added.

“It is,” Sherlock replied listlessly.

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anonymous asked:

"It's only one night, we'll share the bed." + sterek pls!

Who doesn’t love bed sharing, am I right? I was originally going to write some makeup sex but I’ve been having trouble writing smut lately, so I skipped it. (also on ao3!)

“It’s only one night, we’ll share the bed.”

Stiles raised his head to pin Derek with a thoroughly skeptical look, cocking an incredulous brow at him from the other side of the mattress. He crossed his arms over his chest, blinking in shocked surprise at Derek’s infuriating nonchalant statement, barely believing his own ears.

He had heard some extremely ridiculous things throughout his nineteen years of life, from his days in high school where he spent time in testosterone-filled locker rooms to overhearing crazy stories from his dad about work. Not to mention all the insane stuff he had since he had stumbled into the shit show that was the world of the supernatural.

But what Derek had just said to him blew every other batshit crazy thing he had ever heard right out of the water. And he thought that nothing could ever top the time Peter told him that born werewolves had knots.

“Uh, yeah…” Stiles drawled, glancing back and forth between the bed and Derek, his eyes lingering on the soft looking pale blue comforter. Lifting his eyes from the bed, he turned back to Derek and firmly concluded, “No. I don’t think so.”

Derek blinked at him in blatant disbelief, completely taken aback by the fact that Stiles just shut him down. He tilted his head to the side, like a confused puppy, as he furrowed his brows, his forehead wrinkling.

“But you,” Stiles began cheerily, pointing a finger at Derek’s chest with a forced, almost mocking smile, “can sleep on the floor.”

“Oh, c'mon, Stiles,” Derek sighed heavily, rolling his eyes theatrically as he slumped his shoulders. With another sigh, Derek looked over at Stiles, clearly unimpressed with his proposition. “Don’t be an asshole.”

Stiles scoffed. He blinked a few times at Derek, not bothering to dignify his statement with an immediate response.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, biting the inside of his cheek as he valiantly tried to refrain from outright snapping at Derek. Ultimately failing, he grit his teeth and announced, “You can either sleep on the floor or sleep in the car because the bed is mine and I’m not sharing it with you.”

Derek didn’t seem too amused by that. He curled his lip in a silent snarl, alpha instincts rising to the surface at the fact that he was being ordered around so casually.

He crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring Stiles’ position as they glared at each other over the bed, neither one of them willing to concede. It went against both of their natures to be the first one to bend in an argument.

Eventually, after several minutes of silent staring at one another, Derek leaned over to pick up his duffel bag from where he had set it on the floor. Stiles puffed out his chest in triumph, letting out a self-satisfied hmph as Derek scooped up his bag, a smirk lifting the corner of his lips.

His smirk vanished and his chest deflated when, rather than take his bag and leave the room to go sleep in the cramped backseat of the Camaro, Derek simply tossed his bag into the bed. Completely ignoring Stiles’ palpable outrage, Derek unzipped his bag and started rifling around inside, pulling out a change of clothes and a toothbrush.

He laid out a pair of pajama pants and some black boxer briefs, setting them on the foot of the bed. Placing his toothbrush and a travel size bottle of mouthwash on top of the pants, not looking up, he informed Stiles, “You can have the shower first. And be quick, it’d be nice if you saved me some hot water for once.”

Stiles gaped at Derek, furious beyond words. He dropped his arms to fist his hands at his sides, sure that he was about to have an aneurysm he was so angry.

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Christian Yu x Reader: Let Me Explain - Chapter 3

Chapter 1: These Seoul Streets. | Chapter 2: Uninvited Guests | 

Chapter 3: Confrontation 

Word count: 3542

Series type: Angst, Smut (in later chapters) & Fluff.

Warnings: Mentions of sex and bad language.

Additional Characters: DPR LIVE (Dabin) and mentions of other artists/fictional characters.

Rough summary: Christian is your boss but also your best friend. You both have feelings for each other but his way of living complicates your relationship.

A/N: Thank you for all the nice comments on the second Chapter! It means a lot as it keeps motivating me to write the series. Also keep in mind that English is not my first language, therefore there could be some spelling/grammar mistakes.


3 Days total went by since that incident.

The amount of times Christian called or texted you was insane. What also drove you insane was the fact that every time you received a call or text from him, it made it harder for you not to cave in and answer already.

You weren’t even angry anymore, just sad. A sad mess.

You continued on your schedules as they were, knowing that your work was the only thing that could distract you.

You sit on your couch scrolling through your emails when you see that your schedule for the rest of the week has arrived. It was still new to you that your schedules were now managed by someone else. You had to admit it was easier this way, but still you had made up your mind on leaving DPR and buying out your contract.

Your eyes scan through the excel sheet and you frown. “No Kim Yura?” you whisper to yourself.

You called your manager to ask for clarification. He answered right away, as if he knew you’d call.

“Hello? y/n, you haven’t been to a meeting in a few days now, what are you up to?”

“Ah-yeah, Hi oppa, I’m just not feeling so well.” You lie adjusting your phone closer to your ear so you could hear him better.

“Oh, make sure to get some rest then y/n-ah, is there a reason behind your call?”

“Yes, ehm, I was wondering why all of my schedules with Kim Yura suddenly disappeared?”

“Oh, I thought Ian told you already. We dropped her completely. He told us that you found her too difficult to work with.” Your manager answered casually.

Your heart sank a little. Confused and taken aback by the news. Why would he do that?

“Wait, so it was Christian’s idea to drop her? What about her debut mv?” you ask, your body language gave away your alertness and curiosity.

“We’re not going through with the package deal anymore y/n-ah. I honestly don’t know why we won’t. It’d be huge for us, but Ian made his mind up, he just didn’t want to do it anymore. He said he wanted to focus more on CF’s and stuff.”

“That’s bullshit” you say under your breath furrowing your eyebrows

“Excuse me?” your manager asked, obviously hearing what you said.

“Ahh-nothing oppa, It’s nothing, thank you for the info. I know enough for now.”

“Alright, get well soon.” He dryly says, probably knowing you’re not sick at all.

“Thank you, will do” you say and hang up.

You stare at your phone in your hand for a moment. CF’s?

Christian wanting to focus more on CF’s was the biggest lie you have heard since three days ago.

What has gotten into him all of a sudden? He completely dropped her from your scheduling, meaning someone else was going to have to teach her how to dance, which also meant no DPR. It also meant that the mv deal must be off the tracks.

You let yourself fall back on the couch putting your hand to your forehead. Maybe you should just resign as quickly as possible so he can still recover the deal with YG and Yura.

You can’t let this petty personal situation come between something as big as this. Reeling in Yura was one of the best things that happened so far this year for the crew. Apart from all the underlying drama of course.

You’ve never disliked Christian more than you did right now, but you wish him and the rest of the crew well. And the though of him declining such a huge offer because of personal drama made you feel guilty. But why did it make you feel guilty? When all of it is his own fault?

Your thoughts frustrate you and you swear to god that you were about to scream until you heard the sound of your doorbell.

Maybe it was Dabin? He hadn’t contacted you since that day, you didn’t blame him. You figured he had enough of the situation as it was.

You reluctantly get up rubbing your eyes while walking to your front door. As you open it you see an unfamiliar face.

“Package for y/n-sshi” A tall looking guy said looking at you with a black expression.

“I didn’t order anything” you say giving him a confused look.

“It says ‘For miss y/n, are you miss y/n?” He asks annoyed.

“Well-yeah, but-” “Then this is yours” he says shoving the box into your hands. “Have a nice day” he says walking away.

Jesus, he was in a mood. Even though you wouldn’t be happy either if you had to deliver packages in the pouring rain, his attitude bothered you as you closed the door behind you. You walk to the kitchen area, sitting on a chair behind your bar inspecting the box in front of you.

You look at it and read the label connected to the plastic wrap which was wrapped around the entire thing.

“From Ian” it said.

You frown, is it your stuff that you forgot at his place? Is he cutting ties from you this time? Is that why he dropped Yura? So he can actually date her? Different thoughts go through your mind as you just stare at the box in front of you, not knowing what to expect when you’d see what’s inside of it.

You cut the plastic wrap across the box and carefully remove it. “Fragile” you read out loud as you remove the sticker as well.

You shake the box to hear a soft rumble and place the it down to open it.

“Holy shit.” You whisper to yourself. This might have been the last thing you expected.

You carefully lift the shoes out of the box as your jaw dropped.

Your nude Valentino pumps. Suddenly your mind flashed back to that night. That damn night where he had not only broken the heel of your shoe, but also your trust.

These looked different though, they looked like they were a lot more expensive than your old pair. You carefully inspect the pump, looking at the Swarovski crystal imbedded straps, carefully putting them back into the box, searching for something else.

There was a note.

“I told you I’d buy you new ones. Please take these as a peace offering. I beg you to give me a chance love. I know I have a lot of explaining to do.”

You bit your lip not knowing how to feel about this. Putting the shoes back into the box.

                                                   - time jump –

You barge into his house the second he opened the door, not making eye contact with him or even thinking of people being in his house. Luckily there weren’t any.

A startled Christian followed you. He hasn’t seen or spoken to you in 5 days. And for you to show up here unannounced was a very unlikely thing for you to do.

“Christian I can’t accept these” you say putting the shoe box down on his coffee table. You were nervous as hell. On the ride here you thought of a hundred different scenarios. What If Yura is there? What if another bitch was there? What if Dabin is there? Or one of his many famous friends?

You were relieved none of these scenarios came true, even though you had everything you wanted to say planned out already. Still, standing in front of him like this took balls from you. You hated confrontation, but you couldn’t avoid him forever.

Christian cautiously took a few steps closer to you and the coffee table where you had just put the shoe box down on.

“Why?” is all he could ask, giving you a look up and down. You know you didn’t look like you always looked. Sleeping was still an issue, and eating had become one of your new issues.

“Because, Christian. I googled the damn price and that’s just ridiculous.”

He shook his head picking up the box and shoving it into your hands again. “I told you I’d buy you new ones. So take it.”

“No, that doesn’t make sense, these are worth 3 times more than my old pair, I can’t accept them. End of story. But that’s not the reason why I came here in the first place” you say all in one breath.

“What is it? Are you finally here to talk to me?” he asks looking for answers into your eyes.

“Yes, but not about personal stuff.” You say crossing your arms.

It took everything you had not to run out of that door right then and there.

“Then what y/n?” he asks still confused at your odd behavior.

“I came here to return these” you say putting the box down on his coffee table again. His eyes quickly followed your movements but fixated back on your eyes again in a split second.

“And to tell you that I want out. I’m going to buy out the contract Ian. I don’t want this anymore.”

He fell quiet. Looking at the ground. You couldn’t read any emotion from his posture or face. He just sighed and looked up, meeting your eyes once again.

He stayed quiet for a little while longer, making your insides turn once again. The silence was cutting you in half. So you decided to speak up first.

“I’ll have the money ready in a week, maybe it’s not too late to contact Yura’s management. Maybe you can still get the deal.” You say determined.

“No.” he simply says walking to his couch and sitting down. He leaned his elbows on his thighs to support his head. His hands clamped onto his messy hair in frustration.

“I’ll terminate the fucking contract. You don’t have to buy that shit out, y/n that’s ridiculous, I also don’t give a fuck about that deal anymore. It cost me the most precious thing I had.” He says looking up to you again.

What was that look on his face? Was he…hurt. Did he mean you?

“That’s not what I signed for.” You simply said, steering the conversation back into the planned direction, keeping your emotions in check while trying not to break your professional composure.

“Cut the crap please. Why are you acting like this!? Talk to me like you’re a person with actual feelings, not like a programmed robot” he yells at you getting up.

His sudden outburst scared you but you made sure not to break, fearlessly looking straight into his dark sparkling eyes.

“Don’t yell at me” you softly say, having a more and more difficult time to suppress your emotions.

“Terminating the contract also means terminating our relationship doesn’t it.” He says looking straight at you.

“What relationship Ian? That was terminated the moment you walked back to that damn club” you spit out to him.

Oh, and you promised yourself personal feelings wouldn’t get in the way this time. Guess this was a failed attempt at that.

He looked at you. “This is why I wanted to talk. You and Dabin jump to conclusions all by yourselves but you won’t hear me out first. How can you believe your side of the story when you haven’t heard mine yet?” He looked like a last puppy. He knew that if he didn’t talk about everything to you now, he probably would never get the chance again.

You didn’t say anything. Stubbornly looking to the floor, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“I didn’t fuck Yura. I never have. I also never intended to” He says articulating every word to his best ability.

You look up to him. His eyes almost screamed at you, trying to get you to understand with just the look of his eyes.

“I swear y/n I would never do that to you.” He says taking a step closer to you.

You pinch your eyes closed looking to the ground, when he softly takes a hold of your hand.

“No!” you yell at him, yanking your hand out of his grip.

“You can’t just do that!” you yell letting your guard down.

Here come the waterworks.

Tears start to prickle your eyes when you look at him again. He took a step back without realizing, giving you some much needed space, still startled at your rejection.

“You have been fucking me up for months now Christian. This is not me being mad at what happened last weekend, this is me finally realizing I should have been mad at you all this time.” You say with a breaking voice. Even you acknowledged how sad and broken you sounded.

“I was going to come here, give you back those fucking shoes and get out of that fucking contract so I would never have to see your god damn face again.” Your voice cracked multiple times. Tears were flowing down your cheeks now. As you noticed you wiped your face with your sleeve, closing your eyes at the second hand embarrassment of crying in front of him again. You promised yourself you would keep it together at least once.

Christian just stood there, looking at you not knowing what to do. He wanted to touch, hug and kiss you so bad. He wanted to tell you that your tears were all for nothing. That everything was going to be okay. But he also realized that he had broken you, without knowing he did.

Of course he knew that having all of these meaningless sexual relationships with different women would catch up to him eventually. He only did it to feel less lonely. He had you, but not in the way he wished to have you. Contracts and being in the public eye complicated that wish for the both of you. But Christian was never the type to deal with his emotions the healthy way. He’d try anything to forget his feelings for you, not knowing it would end up hurting you as much as it did.

“Y/n I-” he starts, but you don’t let him finish.

“I was going to leave here, feeling content with myself for once but then you had to go and try to touch me again.” You say crossing your arms. Giving him an angry look with tears in your eyes, just standing there in the middle of his living room.

“Y/n please just don’t do this.” He says cautiously taking a step towards you again.

He sounded sad, and tired. Tired of this mess. The two of you were a toxic cocktail when not blended well, but a fucking match made in heaven if everything would have just worked out.

You cover your face with your hands. Crying into the sleeves of your black sweater not knowing how to get yourself together anymore.

He means too much to you. So much that it hurts.

He grabbed your wrists, pulling you into the tightest and warmest embrace he could give you. It was a risky thing to do on his end, but he didn’t know what else to do at this point anymore.

His body emitted a warmth you felt save in. A warmth that could make you feel relaxed at all times, a warmth that felt like home. Even though you knew you had to be strong, your mind doesn’t know how to resist anymore.

You were so tired, stressed and overworked. Your last descent meal was that damn macaroni and cheese, and your last good night sleep was probably almost two weeks ago.

He held you while you bawled like a baby. Unable to move or push him off of you. “Y/n I’m so, so incredibly sorry” he whispers while caressing your hair.

“You know me better than anyone y/n. You know I never had the intention to hurt you I’m just a fucking idiot sometimes” he says with his chin resting on the top of your head.

Your arms were now wrapped around him while you held him close, resting your head onto his chest listening to the soft thuds of his heartbeat as silence surrounded the both of you when you finally stopped sobbing.

After a while he slightly loosened the grip he had on you, taking your face into his hands inspecting it thoroughly. You had bags under your tired eyes which were red from crying. You looked pale, your lips were slightly chapped and your cheeks had sunken in a little.

He sighed and kissed your forehead while you still had your eyes closed.

“Let me take care of you a little before you hear me out okay?” he whispers caressing your cheeks with his thumbs

You nod and let him take your hand to lead you to his couch. You sit down, looking around. His suitcase from his trip to Peru was still in the middle of his living room floor, nothing unpacked except for toiletries. You sighed at the sight. It has been weeks. I guess his mind is in the same mess as yours is right now. Suddenly you feel bad for being here and being as cold as you were when you first entered.

A soft thud on the couch made you look up. Next to you Lori had joined you, laying down beside you, knowing you would always pet her. You smiled slightly at the sight of the dog cuddling up to you.

“How have you been girl” you ask petting her head. She just gives you a look and closes her eyes after, as if she was trying to tell you she was tired. “Same girl” you say shaking her paw as if you were shaking hands with her.

Christian returned with a glass of water and an ibuprofen.

“Take this” he says. “Your head must be pounding.”

You nod, taking it from him. You had missed these surroundings. Watching movies all night on the couch with Christian and Lori, or the so called ‘weird Wednesdays’ when you’d try to cook something together that you’ve never had before. Coming here was a good decision, even though it didn’t go as planned, at least now you realize that cutting ties with him completely without talking first wouldn’t resolve anything.

You still desperately wanted things to go back to normal, but you just didn’t know how at this point.

Giving you some space he sat on the opposite end of the couch, looking at you as if you were going to disappear at any second.

His eyes were glued on you and he studied every move you made when you took the medicine, flushing it away with the cold water and putting the glass down on his coffee table.

You brought your knees up to your chest, making yourself less vulnerable and more comfortable.

You finally collected the courage to look at his face. He was beautiful as always. He looked tired, but still effortlessly attractive.

You sigh still looking at him, resting your head on the top of the couch.

“Stay here tonight” he finally says.

You looked at him and shook your head.

“It’s pouring outside, and it’s late. Just stay” he says again. A little more determined this time.

“I really can’t.” you voice sounded raspy, raspier than you thought. You clear your throat and stare out the window.

“I won’t melt in the rain; besides I drove here so I should be fine” you say.

Both of you were just avoiding the obvious subject that needed to be spoken off.

“Still it’s dangerous” he says.

“Christian…” you sigh closing your eyes. Even though you had stayed over plenty of times, This just wasn’t going to happen now. He knew you’d never stay, not after everything that happened.

“Fine, at least stay until the rain slows or stops alright?” He says getting up. “I’ll fix up something to eat in the meantime. You look like a zombie.” He says giving you a sarcastic smile, walking to his kitchen.

You watch him open his fridge and inspect the contents. “Always so subtle with your choice of words Mr. Yu” you say getting up, leaving Lori’s sleeping state on the couch.

He didn’t pay much attention to you. He was lost in thought. Searching through his fridge for an egg and some spring onions to make you some ramyeon.

You walked towards his bathroom, opening the door and taking a look at yourself in the mirror.

You looked like shit. Absolute shit.

Your tired red eyes were even puffier than before. Your lips were chapped and your complexion looked lifeless with your sunken cheeks.

You turn on the faucet, splashing some cold water in your face. You pat you face dry with a towel and pinch your cheeks for some extra blood circulation. You also decide to steal his lip balm and apply some of it. You already looked a lot more alive with such little effort. You sigh looking at yourself one last time.

You stretch out, lost in thought when your eyes wander to see the door connected to his bedroom crooked open just enough to see inside of his bedroom.

You figured it’d be a mess as always, but as you look around your eyes stop at the sight of a female sleeping in his bed.

Your movements froze, and so did your heart.

Kim fucking Yura.


A/N: Don’t hate me :) 

Chapter 4 

Just Me, Coffee, & My Big Mouth

Originally posted by subcas

Originally posted by demondetoxmanual

Characters- Sam x Reader, Mary
Summary- You can’t leave it alone, so you have to say your piece. All you can do is hope she’ll listen, and that Sam won’t be too upset.
Word Count- 1,620
Warnings- mild cursing? Also kind of calling Mary out a little on her bs about “needing space”.
A/N- This is for Hazel & Dreamer’s 1k/2k ‘Sammy Says’ Writing Challenge! My prompt was “I mean, what if there’s something…not natural?” I’m sorry it’s a little late, ladies but I hope you enjoy!


You know you shouldn’t be here, and yet you are. If Sam knew, you were sure he’d tell you to leave it be. He’d tell you that it ‘doesn’t matter’. Like hell it matters, you think. You knew it mattered to him. To Dean, too. They were your broken little family and if you could do anything to fix it, you would.

That’s why you were in Oregon. Tracking the phone hadn’t been that hard- the tricky part was setting up the meeting in the old diner to look like coincidence. You angled yourself just right, right at the bar where you knew she’d sit and waited. It wasn’t long until she showed, blonde hair curled nicely and clothes not too unlike what you were wearing. You watched her out of the corner of your eye, her eyes tripping over your own figure before she beelined toward you. You act nonchalant, pushing yourself to act natural.

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Kiss the rain

Originally posted by kpopidolaegyooo

Pairing: Jimin x Reader
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 1111
Summary: Rumors and idol life put a strain on your relationship with Jimin.
A/N: Requested by my dearest Mong J


The morning had started out well. You met with your boyfriend Jimin, whom you teased for wearing sunglasses and a black leather jacket that only made him more conspicuous. The two of you squeezed side-by-side in a corner booth of a cozy cafe. It was raining, so you both ordered hot chocolate with marshmallows, warming your hands around the mugs while he told you stories from his group’s recent tour stops.

But the whines and obnoxious laughter of a gaggle of student from a nearby table made it difficult to concentrate on your chat. Unwillingly, you heard the topic of their conversation: BTS’ Jimin and Red Velvet’s Seulgi. These rumors had been going on for months. You tried forcing yourself to listen to Jimin’s story, but once you heard the gossiping students, they seemed impossible to unhear—how Jimin and Seulgi sent each other signs through social media like other idol couples had before being discovered, how they wore couple necklaces and bracelets, how Jimin had become so much more charismatic and confident after the rumors started… helped by his hot idol girlfriend.

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anonymous asked:

What about asking Harry to make love to you. Not as a first time or as a virgin but after you've been together for a while and you just want to feel close to him cause you've had a bad day or something like that?

Maybe you’ve had one of those days where things have gone wrong. Long and bad and making you want to go back home and crawl under the covers and pay no mind to anything nor anyone; not even Harry.

You overslept that morning, you had no warm water to shower with before getting ready, you cut your leg whilst shaving and slipped into an odd and aching position in the shower, you spilt hot water over yourself whilst making a cup of tea and then you were late to work because workers had decided that roadworks needed to be done on the motorway. You hadn’t slept much so you were agitated, you were frustrated by those who came into your path and lunch was just a mess and you barely had time to eat before you were pushed into more meetings with more paperwork being piled up on your desk. 

It’s when it begins to rain, and thunder and darken in the atmosphere, that you break down and feel yourself melt into a puddle of despair. Tears in your eyes as people offer to take you home, or suggesting they drop you off somewhere close so you can find someone to pick you up, or willing to wait with you until someone came to collect you so that you weren’t waiting alone in the pouring weather. But, you declined every offer because you just wanted alone time. Time to yourself to wallow in self-pity. Your phone cradled between your shoulder and your ear, muttering to Harry about how you didn’t want to do anything in terms of getting home and just accepting his worrisome murmurs about how he was on his way and that you just needed to find shelter until he arrived.

And it’s not long until Harry’s there.

With an extra jumper in his car for you to slip on over your wet shirt and the heat pumped up and filtering through the car, warming up your cold cheeks and letting you snuggle down in the front passenger. His hand resting on your knee the entire journey back to his house, where he rushes you inside and takes you upstairs, peeling off your wet clothes and pushing them into his overflowing laundry basket in his bathroom. Pushing you into the shower and promising that you can take as long as you wanted in there, that he would order a pizza for dinner and set up some comfy clothes of his on the bed.

“Holler if you need me, okay? Just shout out my name. Your shower gel and shampoos are on the top shelf in the shower. You can just use my flannel to wash your face. Uh, towels are where they normally are and I’ll set some warm clothes out for you on the bed,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead and inhaling the rain that clung to your hair, “you’re okay, yeah? Do you want me to stay?”

“No,” you whisper, sniffling softly as you look up at him, “thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure, love. Yeh my girlfriend. I’ll drop everythin’ to come and get yeh,” he coos, sending you the warmest and most gentlest smile he could muster, with the sweetest green eyes looking down.

You ask him to make love to you when the pizza boxes are empty and the telly decided to switch itself off due to a power outage taking over London during the stormy weather. When candles were lit and giving his bedroom the sweetest scent as you snuggle deeply under his duvet, the gentle flicker of the candles making you feel sweet and homely and protected by the safe environment. His figure sprawled out on his side, atop of the duvet, dressed in boxers because he found clothes to be a little uncomfortable to snooze in, with his feet crossed and his toes curling every time he stretched, with his head propped up with an arm as he faces you. A gentle look on his face that was overtaken with shadows casting on his skin.

“You feelin’ okay now? All good? Fed and watered?”

“Mm-hm. Thank you,” you whisper softly, afraid that if you spoke too loudly, you’d shatter the delicate atmosphere, “Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we, uh,” you pause softly, ducking further under the sheets to cover your blushing cheeks. Disappearing beneath the white duvet and whining softly when he chuckles and tries to pull the comforter from your head. “Can we make love? Like, take things slow and really let things roll?”

And when he falls silent, you gulp thickly and peek an eye out. Noticing the smallest of smiles on his face as he uses his foot to push off the empty pizza boxes that toward at the end of the mattress. Soft thuds being heard as the crusts inside came into contact with lid, a giggle leaving you as he hitches a leg over your body and straddles you. Fists grasping at the comforter as he tugs it from you.

“Can’t make love to yeh if you’re buried under my covers now. Show me yeh pretty face, love. Come on now,” he coos, using his chin to move the duvet and nudging his nose into your hair, “s’only me. S’just me. Made love to you plenty. Don’t have to be shy about askin’ me, silly girl.” xx

To second chances

What if Killian had found out the truth before finding David in that cell…Based on a scene I wrote once in another fandom and suddenly seemed super appropriate to captain charming.   

(Because darn it I wanted this drama wrapped up in one episode) 


The click of the cuff around his wrist was far more insulting than anything else and Killian watched in annoyance until David’s truck vanished from sight.  But there were only so many places to go in this town.  Lifting the chain from around his neck with his hook he found a small silver key, hidden amongst the charms,  very convenient thing to have around, living in close proximity to Charmings.  Taking the key in his teeth he made quick work of the handcuffs and sprinted to Granny’s pushing open the door and calling inside.  

“Drinks on me for a week for the first person to give me a ride-” he gestured in the general direction David’s truck had taken.  

“Sure, why not,” August spoke up from behind him. Killian turned around to see the puppet had pulled up on his infernal contraption.    “But you’ll have to wear the pink helmet.”

“I’m not wearing the bloody pink helmet.”  

“My ‘ship’ my rules,”  August drawled,  then seeming to remember something he dug into a satchel.  “When you catch up with David, would you give these to him?  Honestly there’s nothing else in there but I thought he’d like to have them anyway.”   

Killian glanced down briefly and suddenly his blood turned to ice.  That face-  He must have hesitated for a moment because August looked back at him.

“Thought you were in a hurry, Cap?”  

Killian snapped the pink helmet onto his head and hopped on the demon bike without a second thought.  “We need to find Dave’s truck, now.”

They sped off in the direction that David had taken and it was no more than a couple minutes before they spotted it outside the hospital.   Killian dismounted quickly and near threw the helmet back at the puppet.  

“Need a hand?”  he vaguely heard August ask but the doors were already closing behind him.  He grabbed the first nurse he could find, demanding to know where David had gone and eventually he found someone who pointed him towards a stairwell.  

Of course.

He could hear the sounds of raised voices coming from a room at the end of the hall,  King George mocking David with his father’s final moments.  What he thought to be his father’s final moments.  The nurses were gone, the hallways empty,  apparently the title of prince had its perks, even in this land.

Suddenly the sounds from the end of the hall grew louder. The obvious escalation of a fight,  the clashing of metal against metal, the thud of someone hitting a wall.  Killian skidded to a stop outside the room, momentarily stunned by the sight of David Nolan with his blade against King George’s throat.  He barreled into the room, shoving Charming aside and then turning to push George out of the room before slamming the door behind him.

“No.”   

“That bastard admitted he killed my father,” suddenly David was charging him and Killian felt the all too familiar bite of metal against his throat.  “You take this from me and I will never never forgive you.”  

“Aye,  he admitted it,  and he told you how your father resisted temptation-”

“And it didn’t WORK! He still died.” The knife fell slack and David looked up at Killian with desperation in his eyes.  “I thought he didn’t fight for us, but he did.  He fought with everything he had.  He did the right thing.  It wasn’t enough.  What if-  What if Gideon comes back stronger and kills Emma?”  A lump formed in Killian’s throat as David’s panic echoed something inside Killian, simmering just below the surface.  “What if I can’t be with Snow ever again?  What if being Prince Charming isn’t enough, and I start losing, and it keeps going and I lose everything that matters to me?”  

Killian tried to swallow the lump in his throat but it was useless.  Seeing David,  always so strong and sure, now terrified beyond his ability to endure quietly.  David needed control… and Killian knew he could give that to him.   

“Alright, David.  You can fight your father’s murderer,  kill him if you must,  if you think that will make you feel stronger.  But there’s something you need to know first.”  David was eying the door like a predatory creature,  just waiting for Hook to move out of his way.

“King George thought that he killed your father.  He didn’t.” David’s eyes flicked from the door back to Killian and he continued.    “He ordered him killed, true enough,  but before his guards could carry out their orders…” Killian swallowed hard,  a dark whisper in the back of his mind berating him as a fool.  Because this was it.  The ring in his pocket, his hopes of one day being accepted into their family…. It was over if he finished this one sentence.  “Before they could carry out their orders,  I ambushed them. Killed the guards first,  they were armed. Your father was a witness.”

Killian watched as shock, disbelief and horror crossed David’s face in quick succession followed quickly by the worst yet,  betrayal.  Finally anger.  

“I killed your father.” Killian continued,  his voice tight but determined to tell the whole story.  “Because he saw my face when I stole the King’s Gold, when I murdered the King’s men.  He begged me for mercy,  said that all he wanted in the world was to get home to his son.  I’m sorry, mate-”  he realized too late how mocking the term must sound right now and David’s eyes flicked up.  

“Do not call me that,” David growled. “All these days searching,  you telling me I was too exhausted. That I should give up, that I needed sleep.”

“I didn’t know-”

“Why should I believe a word you say?” David cried, advancing slowly.

“I’m telling you the truth.  These last few days… I did not know he was your father.”

“You’re a liar, pirate.”  

“Then why would I tell you the truth of your father’s final moments?”

“You think I won’t do it,” David’s eyes narrowed, “you bastard, you think I won’t do it?”  David’s stance shifted ever so slightly.  David was preparing for a fight,  but Killian didn’t move.    

“I’m willing to take that chance.”

He laughed, “and you’ll what, just stand there and let me do it?” His laugh was all wrong, it was all anger and pain.

“More or less.”

David finally exploded into movement his knife flashing out again, barely grazing Killian’s shoulder as he slipped out of its reach.  He swung again and again Killian eluded his strikes,  keeping just out of reach of the wild, desperate swings.

Distracting Killian with the raised blade, David kicked out viciously, finally landing a blow that made Hook’s leg crumple beneath him. David raised the blade and brought it down,  Killian’s attempt to block it just a moment too late. A deep gash turned the metal crimson.  With a clash of metal on metal.  Killian knocked the blade from David’s hand and it skirted across the floor.  

David grabbed his wounded arm and squeezed, and Hook’s face contorted in pain.

“Why won’t you fight me?” David yelled in frustration.

“I will not hurt you any more than I already-”  His words were cut off by a fist landing hard on Killian’s jaw, knocking him back.  Killian wiped his lip, shock his head,  and pushed himself back up to his knees.  

“Fight me-” David cried,

“No,” came the quiet reply.

Another blow,  more copper in Killian’s mouth which he spat onto the floor of the cell before looking back up into David’s infuriated eyes.  

“FIGHT ME, PIRATE!”  

“No.”

The next blow was even harder, and Killian hit the ground,  spots of light dancing in his vision.  He shook his head, trying to clear it,  he was surprised to see that David seemed to have paused his assault abruptly.  When his vision cleared Killian saw that David was not even looking at him at all,  was instead looking at something that must have fallen from his pocket when he hit the ground.  David knelt and picked up the black box, staring at it in growing horror.

“Dav-”

“Get out.”

“David,-”

Please-”  his voice was pleading now,  hands clenched.  “Get.  Out.”  Killian heaved himself to his feet and limped from the room, the door clicking shut behind him.  

King George was long gone by now, a problem for another day. Killian leaned against the wall, momentarily too exhausted to take another step.  He quickly catalogued his injuries.  He couldn’t put weight on his right leg without a bolt of agony making him see stars and blood still poured from the gash on his arm.  His vision was going dark in spots and he shook his head to clear it,  eyeing the door with uncertainty.  

David was still inside the cell, nothing more than a turned knob between himself and the man who had murdered his father.  There was blood on his knife,  on his hands,  his knuckles were split from the damage he’d done to Hook’s jaw. His hands shook,  with rage?  With horror?  Perhaps both.  

His mind was a whirlwind,  trying desperately to integrate what he’d learned with the man he’d come to know so well.  Memories invaded his mind unbidden.  Helping Emma into the pirate’s arms when she’d escaped the ice cave, the terror on Killian’s face when Emma faced Gideon.  Emma clinging to her mother as Hook lay still in the mud. The small despondent smile on her face when she’d thought they had left him in the underworld,  when she told him that they had passed the test.  That he was her true love.

True love.  

He had tried to destroy his daughter’s true love.  A cold terror washed over him and he fell to his knees, futilely trying to wipe Hook’s blood from his hands.

Eventually the door swung open again and he didn’t look up as someone entered the room. He could tell from the uneven gait that it was Hook, still limping.  

“Can I call someone, David?  I…”  Killian knelt next to him,  one hand extended as though to touch him but hesitating.   “I know you don’t want to see me but I can’t leave you alone… Emma?  Can I call Emma?”

David shook his head and Killian pressed on. “I won’t tell her about this.   It was your due.  I’ll be gone before she arrives, if that is what you-” Suddenly David threw himself forward and Killian would have been ashamed to admit that he flinched back at first,  expecting another blow.  But the strike never came.  Instead David’s head dropped onto Killian’s shoulder and a shuddering sob escaped his lips. Killian shifted so their weight was not as supported by his wounded leg before clasping his arm around the man hesitantly.

“I’m so sorry,  Hook. I’m so-”  Of all the things Killian had expected to hear,   this had not even occurred to him.  

Killian shook his head, “Bloody hell, mate,  today of all days you apologize to me.”

“Dammit, Jones, right now I… I hate you so much. But-”  His words were a sharp contrast to the tight grip his fingers dug into Killian’s arm and tears continue to slip down his cheeks.  “But you’ve done the most difficult thing that I know.  You have changed and I shouldn’t have-  I shouldn’t have-”

Hook wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, David’s arm clasping his tightly,  his head buried in Hook’s shoulder.  But eventually Hook’s leg gave out from under them abruptly and he sank to the floor with a hiss of pain.  David looked up and was horrified to see that Killian was ashy and pale and the gash down his arm was still bleeding sluggishly.  

“Dammit,” David repeated,  “I will not watch Emma mourn for you again.  Get the hell up and let’s get you some help.”

Killian nodded and David helped him to his feet,  but no sooner had he taken his first step onto his injured leg, pain lanced up his spine and the world began to spin.  He heard David calling his name distantly,  like he was very far away and the next thing he knew he was opening his eyes in a brightly lit hospital room.  Emma sat with folded arms in a chair next to his bed and he attempted a smile.  

“Hey beautiful.”

“Don’t you ‘hey beautiful’ me.”  

Killian’s heart sank. “David told you then?” Of course David had told her. She’d a right to know.  

“Yeah, David told me, and you’re lucky I don’t lock you in the basement for it.  What the hell were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry love,  there is nothing I can say to justify what I did to David’s father.”

“David’s fa-  Killian, I’m talking about this,” she indicated the hospital bed with an exasperated gesture.  

“This?”

“Your whole ridiculous punching bag act.”

“I couldn’t fight your father, Emma.  He deserved bet-”

“YOU deserve better.” Emma grumbled in frustration and Killian’s jaw dropped in shock, a mistake he realized instantly,  a sharp bolt of pain reminding him of David’s blow.  He reached up to rub at it gently, eyes still on Emma.  “Killian I’m not going to pretend that what you did to my grandfather wasn’t despicable.  I’m not going to pretend it was somehow okay. It wasn’t.  But you have worked so hard to change yourself, to be there for me, for all of us.  And you risk all of that in some kind of archaic… honor fight or whatever the hell that was. He could have killed you-”

“I know.”

“I suppose you think you were giving him something by giving him the chance to kill you?  It was all adrenaline and anger and sure, he’s going pissed for a while but if he’d killed you it would have eaten him alive. You know that.”   Killian dropped his eyes and she moved closer, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek; he looked up in surprise. “Not to mention I’d have to go back to the underworld and take up ambrosia gardening.

“You still-”  Emma raised her eyebrows and waited for him to continue. “I feared once you found out you would no longer wish for us to … to be together.”

“Killian, I’ve known about your history for a long time.  I’ve known that you’ve killed and darkened your heart.  And does it hurt that the man you were caused my father pain? Yeah.  Of course it hurts.   But it doesn’t change anything.  I love you.  I love the man you’ve become,  and how hard you’ve fought to become him.”

“Emma?”

“Hmm?”

“Could you please heal my jaw,  because I would very much like to kiss you right now.”

Emma smiled, raising her hand to his cheek.  He felt a warm comforting touch for a moment and the pain faded away.  He leaned towards her but she stopped him with a finger on his lips.  He gave her a quizzical look.

“Killian, can I ask you something first?”

“Aye?”  

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the black box that David must have picked up before they left the cell.  His stomach clenched in sudden nerves and he looked up, searching her face for signs of discomfort,  but all he saw was her smile.  

“Would you marry me?”

His jaw dropped for the second time in as many minutes and he shook his head, a look of amused exasperation on his face.  His hand came up to cup her face, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.  “It would be my honor.”  

He drew her in to kiss her gently,  a relief beyond anything he’d felt before making him near giddy.  “At least let me do this part,” he asked,  taking the box from her.  She nodded,  smiling as he opened the box with his hook and pulled out the ring, slipping it onto her finger.

“It fits perfectly, how did you manage that?”

“An engagement present from Regina,” Killian admitted,  “it will always fit you perfectly.”

“You told Regina first?”

“Well I certainly wasn’t going to ask your mother to keep a secret.”   Emma laughed.  “I had meant to ask your father for his blessing.  I had hoped-”

“Who do you think showed me this?” she indicated the ring box and he raised his eyebrows.  “He waited with you until I got here and he gave me this before he left.  Told me it was probably the only thing that kept him from killing you.  He said it reminded him that you were not that man anymore.”  

“Should I go speak to him?”

“Not tonight.  Tomorrow.”

Killian nodded and Emma leaned forward, her forehead pressing against his gently.  “Let’s go home?”


When he knocked on the door of the loft the next morning the door was opened almost immediately despite the early hour.  However it wasn’t David on the other side of the door.

“Killian-” Snow said, opening the door wider. He hesitated a moment but she reached for him,  a gentle pressure on his arm beckoning him into the loft.  He followed her to the couch and sat, his fingers tapping nervously against one knee.

“I presume that David has shared the tale with you?”

“He left me a recording last night before he woke me. How are you feeling?  Are you alright?”

“Emma patched me up. And David … is he…”

“He’ll be all right too.  He’ll be glad to see you.”  Killian scoffed lightly and Snow moved to sit next to him on the couch.  “Killian do you think me a fool?”

Killian looked up abruptly, shaking his head in surprise.  “Of course not-”

“Do you suppose that we didn’t know who you were?  That I, who helped drag you from under a pile of corpses;  who sat in Belle’s room in the hospital for hours, trying to keep her calm when she remembered nothing of who she was…  Did you suppose I didn’t know that your past was one of true darkness?”

Her face softened and she took his face in both hands, the gesture so maternal that he simply shook his head, unable to speak around the lump in his throat.  

“You are a part of this family now, Killian, and all we want from you is what you’ve been doing for a long time now.  Protect her when you can,  make her happy.  And for heaven’s sake, let yourself be happy.”  Killian nodded, still not trusting his voice.  “I’m going to wake David now, all right?”

“Thank you,” he stammered, “I mean… for everything.”  

Snow nodded and disappeared into the bedroom.  There was silence in the loft for several long minutes and the steps that returned to him were heavier.  

David held a note in his hand when he emerged from the room.

I’m so sorry, David.  I wish I could have held you last night when you got home,  you shouldn’t have had to be alone. I know how much it hurts and I want so badly to take it away.  Emma will forgive you. I’m certain she already has.  

Killian’s here now. Be kind, David.  Be the man I know you are.  

David paused when he entered the room,  Killian was sitting on the couch, his eyes downcast.  The last time David had seen him was before Emma had arrived at the hospital.  He’d passed out cold in the cell and David had been forced to run for help, knowing that it would take far too long to drag Killian up all those steps back to the main part of the hospital.  Nurses had come down from above and loaded him onto a gurney and he had been so pale,  just like last time.

Finally Killian spoke. “I know you don’t want to hear it again, mate, but I am truly sorry.”

“I don’t know what came over me,” David admitted.  “I was so angry. And when I saw that box and realized what I’d done-  It was like waking up from a nightmare.”

“I know.”

“She ask you?” David asked, moving to the breakfast bar and opening the fridge to pull out orange juice.  Killian followed,  leaning against the bar while David poured his juice.  

“Aye.  I wanted to ask your blessing first,  but-”

“But Emma.”

“Aye,  but Emma.”

“You’re marrying my daughter,  no more rum before noon.” David poured a second glass and offered it to Killian.  “To second chances.”  David raised the glass in a toast, and Killian followed his gesture.

“To second chances.”  


Dedicated to @killian-whump , for *cough* obvious reasons.  And the captain charming crew: @xhookswenchx@lynyrdwrites , @spartanguard , @nfbagelperson

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We don’t believe what’s on TV - Chapter 17

/ Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 /  Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16

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

In this chapter: Isaac, the twins, what about lunchtime detention and some claustrophobia?

Word count: 3017

A/N: Again I’m sorry if there’s a delay between chapters, I would’ve post it before but I got sick and couldn’t write. But here it is! And as always, a big thank you to @maddie110201​ who proofreaded and corrected some mistakes! You saved my life again! (none of the gifs are mine)


In the end, nothing serious happened to me. The worst was Stiles’ presence, which made me more and more uncomfortable. Not that I didn’t love him, on the contrary. It was precisely because of my growing feelings towards him that I felt uncomfortable. I couldn’t love him and he shouldn’t love me either, it would change too much of the story and I wouldn’t be able to correct the shot. I knew there was very slight chance it would happen, but I didn’t want to take any chances.

The nurse had bandaged me, looked at my wrist that looked better and let me leave. As I went out, I saw that Stiles was waiting for me near the door.

“ So?” He asked as soon as he saw me. He gnawed at his nails just before I came out, a sign of nervousness. Or worry?

“The wound had reopened, nothing serious,” I replied evasively, trying not to look him in the eye. My heart was hurting to be beside him.

But I was cursed. I didn’t want him to suffer by my fault, it was the opposite that I was trying to do, I wanted to spare him that pain.

“Okay…” He whispered sadly. The walk to our next class was in silence. We weren’t in the same class and the bell was about to ring soon so we had to hurry. But despite that, Stiles insisted to accompany me to my class even if it was going to make him late.

“See you later?” He asked me, hope in the voice. When I heard his voice and his words, I couldn’t help looking at him. Just a quick look at his face couldn’t hurt, right?

Bad idea. I remained frozen for a moment, looking at his face and his eyes without replying. Then the answer came out of my mouth without thinking.

“Of course. ”

My lips stretched to smile at him and his face lit up. I turned my back to go to my class, closing my eyes and cursing myself.

Damn it, Y / N.

I entered the classroom as the bell rang and rushed to the first seat I found.

“So how’s your leg?”

I jumped up looking at who had spoken to me to see Scott sitting next to me. He looked worried.

“Nothing serious,” I reassured him before paying attention to the class. I had to start listening in class if I wanted to get at least an average grade..

“All right, since inertia is a subject of which you all know plenty, why don’t we start with momentum?“ Mr. Harris began by writing down things that I didn’t understand at all. What the hell was inertia? I couldn’t concentrate at all.

“They’re here for a reason. Give me a chance to figure it out before you do anything. Okay? Isaac.” Scott mumbled next to me and I finally remembered. I didn’t know that the whole episode was on the same day so I began to panic a little. Isaac’s rage toward the twins was intense and would fuel future problems with some of my plans.

I promised myself that I would act only if there was an emergency. It wasn’t an emergency, but if I didn’t intervene, the worst could happen.

“Danny. What do we know about momentum? “Mr. Harris asked, continuing his class without suspecting what was happening.

“It’s the product of mass and velocity. The more massive something is, the faster it’s going.” Danny answered brilliantly as I watched Isaac tensing.

"Mr. Harris, can I use the bathroom, please?” Isaac asked and as soon as the teacher nodded to him, he rushed out of the classroom.

“I’ve got to go to the bathroom too.” Scott tried as he got up.

“One at a time.”

“But I really have to go. Like, medical emergency have to go.” He tried, but in vain. I knew that even if his bladder would explode, Mr. Harris wouldn’t let him out.

“Mr. McCall, if your bladder suddenly exploded and urine began to pour from every orifice, I would still respond, one at a time.”

Knew it. He can’t go. But what if… I can?

I suddenly raised my hand.

“Yes? ”

“I have to go out … I …” I began by putting my hand on my heart to simulate pain. I knew that all my teachers were aware of the unknown disease I was suffering from. Okay, I was using it to my advantage, but it was urgent. And the effect was instantaneous.

“Go ahead,” Mr. Harris said, his eyes very worried. He even stretched out my hand to help me, but I pushed away weakly, staggering to the door. Before going out, I told him one last thing.

“I’ll be okay. Don’t interrupt your class for me.” Then I met Scott’s gaze, who was ready to jump to help me if I fell on the floor. But seeing my look, he understood. However, he didn’t look like he was okay with me going out.

As I opened the door, I saw what was going on. Isaac was advancing towards the twins waiting a little farther. I rushed towards him and put myself in front of him.

"Get out of my sight!” He ordered me, dissatisfied that somebody intervened during his fight. I clapped my hands on his chest and grunted at him. Yes, yes, I grunted. Surely the frustration of never being able to do anything good or him always looking after problems. Anyway, he was surprised enough at my growl to give me attention.

"Look.” I intimated to him and at the same moment one of the twins hit the other. Again and again. My presence didn’t change what he was doing, but now they were going to know that I was on Scott’s side and I hoped it wouldn’t cause me any problems. Like become one of their targets. I can’t believe they were that evil!

“They want to put all of this on you! Make it your fault!” I told him even if it was obvious.  I pushed him back, hoping to avoid detention, but too late. One of the twins (I don’t know which one) threw the other against the floor and he slipped at our feet.

“ Damn it. ”

“What is this? What’s going on? "Mr. Harris’s voice made behind us and Danny rushed to the twin on the floor that had to be Ethan.

"You all right?”

“He just … he just came at me …”

“Isaac, what the hell did you do?” Mr. Harris asked Isaac before turning his head towards me. “ And you. How dare you use your disease as an excuse to get out and…”

"He didn’t do anything!” I tried, crossing Scott’s look a little behind. Oh shit. He didn’t know about my illness.

But now he know.

"You will discuss it in detention on lunch time.”


"Don’t let it bother you. It’s just lunchtime detention. If all they want right now is to piss you off, then don’t give in. They’re just trying to get to you.”  Scott explained to Isaac as he walked quickly to his locker, me behind them who followed in silence. I had the feeling that if I spoke, Isaac was going to tear my tongue out. He was angry. And I was going to be in detention with him. Scott didn’t seem calmer, especially not hearing from someone else that I was sick and I had lied to him.

"It’s not just me.” Isaac said to Scott pointing a scene in front of us, Aidan talking with Lydia.

For Christ sake. I really had to appreciate them for wanting to save Aidan from his death in the next season. But damn they’re getting annoying now!

“What about tonight?” Aidan tried to seduce Lydia.

“Nope. Studying. ”

“I could help you.”

“Do you have an IQ higher than 170?”

“Okay, so you could help me.” The alpha tried again and in front of Lydia’s silence, he concluded that she didn’t refuse.

“Tonight then?” And as the only answer, Lydia smiled at him, patting his chest and left. Aidan looked at us afterwards, a big satisfied smile stamp in the face.

“What?” Scott grunted.

“Now they’re getting to you.” Isaac informed him.

“Thanks captain obvious,” I couldn’t help but said as I grabbed Scott’s hand gently into mine. He turned his head towards me and I felt his expression soften.

“I have a plan.” I said.

"You need to tell me everything after school, Y / N.” He said instead of answering. And I could only nod my head.


I didn’t have a plan.

All the confidence I had a few moments ago disappeared entirely during lunchtime detention. I began to stress, to look around me to see some other unlucky students, but also Isaac and Allison.

And I knew that even if they ended up together, those two didn’t really appreciate each other right now.

Isaac didn’t trust me, but for Allison, I didn’t know where her level of friendship was with me. I loved Allison a lot, enough to continue my mission just to be able to save her. But what about her?

But there, sitting in the classroom waiting for Mr. Harris’s sentence when I already knew it and knew the risks involved, I felt helpless. What plan? Seriously? Okay, I had managed to calm Scott under the suspicious eye of Isaac, but to get to what?

Nothing.

“The two of you will wash all the boards in this hall,” Mr. Harris began by pointing two students to my right. “You two, reshelving the library. And you, restocking the janitor’s closet.” He finished by pointing us.

All three of us.

Isaac turned and saw that Allison was behind him and I behind her. He made big eyes and then got up to go and see the professor. I saw Allison tense, surely not very cheerful to have to be with him. She turned to me and I smiled timidly. Her body seemed to relax a bit and she smiled back.

"Mr. Harris?” Um… Does it have to be with her? “

"Now that I know you prefer not to, yes. You have to be with her.” Mr. Harris smiled at him. Okay, I officially hate this teacher. When his turn comes, I won’t even try to save him. He already knows a lot and never talks about it. And he pisses me off so much!

Isaac turned to us.

“Great.”

So we all went to the janitor’s closet, Isaac and Allison in front as I pushed the cart behind. Isaac opened the door and began to tuck inside while Allison did the same, but I froze just before the door.

“Don’t go in.” I whispered as I looked around, scared, and Allison turned to me.

“Why? ”

“ Yes, why? Do you have a vision or something?” Isaac added sarcastically, but I wasn’t in the mood to laugh. One of the twins was going to lock them up, we couldn’t stay here.

"Are you okay?” Allison asked Isaac, seeing him have a little difficulty with the task, abandoning her attention from me to carry it on him.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m just not a big fan of small spaces,” Isaac replied.

“Guys, please, you really need to get out …” I tried again pointing the outside where I was still standing. “Now.” I added, biting my lip.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid of the twins. They were still on Deucalion’s side and would kill if he asked them to. And even if I knew they would eventually repent, I preferred not to confront them.

Okay, I was really scared. My only defense was a voice in my head and a pain that was making me spit blood! I had no claws, no arrows, no katana. And my last experience with uncontrollable wolves had almost killed me, I was still a little traumatized.

"Y / N …” Allison began, but I interrupted her, the panic seriously gaining me.

“Otherwise I’ll scream, I’ll scream so hard that Scott will come and see what happens!” I told them in the hope that it would be enough.

“Then scream and we’ll see if your brother come,” Isaac said to me aggressively, surely tired of my strange attitude and my mania to want to control everything. But when he turned back to me, his face grew pale.

“What?” I asked with wide-eyes, feeling a chill run through my neck and my legs becoming weak, like every time my body was filled with fear. And a moment later I was pushed hard into the closet, falling on the floor and the door slammed behind me.

"Oh no!” I panicked as I got up. "I told you to go out there! Why does no one ever listens to me, why?” I grabbed my hair as Isaac tried the door handle, hyperventilating.

"You knew?!” Allison asked me.

"Of course she knew! She knows everything! Derek must be right, you are with them and you torture us from within!” Isaac began to be furious, knocking harder and harder against the door.

"Isaac! Isaac, calm down! ”

“I want to get out! ”

“Isaac, it’s okay, we’re getting out!”

“Allison …” I started feeling tears of panic rising to my eyes. “Stay behind me.” I said as I stood in front of her while Isaac was still screaming he wanted to get out.

Then he stopped banging and turned his face towards us, his eyes shining with a golden hue.

"Isaac, don’t do that!” Allison shouted as she walks to put herself in front of me. She felt the need to protect the innocent at the cost of her life. Isaac didn’t think a second, saw his target and grabbed her by the throat.

I don’t know what came over me, an uncontrollable adrenaline rush or a new urge to play the hero, but I threw myself on Isaac and hit him with my fists.

” Let her go!” I screamed at him, but all he did was give me a claw strike on my arm so hard I fell backwards, shouting.

And it was immediately after that the door opened abruptly and Isaac was pulled out of the closet. Scott looked at Allison and then me and his gaze became golden as he headed toward Isaac to take him by the throat to the ground, shouting his name. I didn’t need to get up to see that he was automatically calming down.

Allison came up to me and helped me up. I held my wounded arm against me and walked slowly outward with her help, still shaken by what had just happened.

“I’m okay. I’m fine. "Allison said to Scott, then looked at me. "But I don’t think she’s okay …”

Indeed, I was still shaking. It wasn’t Isaac’s fault, only a bad day. Everything was putting me on the nerves and stressed me terribly today. I shouldn’t have panicked like that, it was stupid. And my legs that didn’t want to stop shaking…

Scott stepped toward us and placed a hand on my cheek, as if to bring me back to reality. I looked up at him to show that everything was fine and he looked at the condition of my arm. The cuts looked less bad than the one Boyd had made on my leg, but I was still hurt and the wound burned me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t … I didn’t mean to do that … I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not his fault.” I mumbled, sniffling, eyes still plunged into those of Scott who seemed to think. He let go of my arm gently.

“I know.” He replied mechanically as Isaac continued to sob. “ I guess now we know they want to do more than get you angry. They want to get someone hurt. ”

“So are we gonna do something?” Isaac asked.

“Yeah. I’m gonna get them angry. Really angry.”  Scott answered and I could see all the rage that lived in him. But as I was about to add something, he quickly turned to me, his eyes still angry. I got so scared that I started shaking again.

"And you.” He almost grunted. "Stop putting yourself in danger! A disease? Serious enough for all teachers to know, but not me? “

"Scott …” I tried weakly as I walked toward him, leaving the support Allison was giving me.

“ No. You go to the infirmary and then you go home! ”

“But …”

The rage then left Scott’s eyes, which filled with water. He put his hands on my shoulders and spoke to me with concern.

“I shouldn’t have gotten you into this. I shouldn’t have let you get into it. Now they’re going to target you too. And you have no way to defend yourself… ”

“Scott …”

“I don’t want you to get hurt again.” He told me and that was the end of the discussion. I couldn’t reply to what he had just told me. He seemed to care so much for me.

But my life was worthless, I was going to die anyway. I didn’t even know if all I was doing was real. So I took his hands on my shoulders between mine and looked down into his dark eyes.

“I’ve been involved in all this, whether you like it or not, since I’ve been here … you can’t protect me all the time, or stop me from putting yourself in danger for you. For Allison, for Isaac, for Stiles. I refuse to stand by doing nothing. I refuse to let people die. So you let me do it or I do it anyway? ”

I saw him sighing.

“Nothing can change your mind huh.”

“Nope.”

“The girl has guts,” Isaac said as he stood up. “I’m starting to appreciate her. I’m not trusting her, don’t get me wrong. ”

“That’s enough for me,” I said. “Let’s make some alphas angry.” I mumbled, smiling, my confidence now back.


In the next chapter: Revenge and mistakes


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I have faith in you

Originally posted by my-harry-potter-generation

Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Severus Snape x (auror)reader
Genres: a bit of bickering, possible secondhand embarrassment, fluff 
Words: 1.410
Summary: During a conversation with Sirius, reader blurts out about her feelings for Snape. The latter happens to hear everything - requested by Anonymous

Keep reading

Patience (Shawn Mendes Imagine)

requested: can you write something based on Shawn’s song patience?

pairing: reader x Shawn Mendes

word count: 2,095

a/n: patience is my favorite song by Shawn, thank you so much for requesting this, I teared up while writing it! Of course it’s based off of patience, but I found another great song to listen to while reading this is Waves by Dean Lewis. tell me what y’all think!

“What do you mean she took it back?”

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Poor Little Rich Girl-Part 5

This is an A/B/O AU

Your father Lucifer is the Alpha of your pack and he rules your town with an iron fist.  He is forcing you to marry the son and heir of a rival pack.  It is 3 weeks before your wedding when you find out Sam Winchester is back.   Sam was your first love at 17, and when your father found out, he forced his family to leave town.  You haven’t spoken to him since.  What will happen when you see him again?

Characters: Alpha! Sam Winchester, Beta! Dean Winchester, Omega!Castiel Novak, Omega! Mary Winchester, Reader, Alpha! (Nick) Lucifer, Beta! Michael, Beta! Gabriel, Beta! Stephanie (OC), Alpha Eric (OC) Chuck (mentioned)

Master List

Introduction (all parts are linked)

Text messages are listed in Bold

My tutoring sessions with Sam became less and less about math every week. Sam finally asked me out on a real date and we spent most of it at Harley’s Point, the popular makeout spot outside of town. I was really just discovering what it meant to be an Omega, and that night, Sam made me beg.  By the end of the week, he made me scream.

My Dad had started to get suspicious when Sam and I began spending so much time together.  I lied to his face and denied anything was going on, but when Uncle Michael caught us red handed making out in Sam’s car, we were forced to confess the truth…..we were in love.

My Dad went ballistic.  A mechanic’s son was going to have his precious daughter over his dead body.  Sam’s parents were summoned and told that their son had “taken advantage” of Alpha’s underage daughter and given that Sam was 19, they could have him arrested.

“No Daddy! I love him! He didn’t take advantage of me!” I yelled, tears pouring down my face.

“You can’t keep me from her!” Sam said defiantly.

“They are just kids in love, Alpha.” Mary Winchester whispered.

“I think it would be best for Y/N if you all left town.  Do not contact her again.” My father told Sam coldly.

“You can’t do this! Sam!” I shrieked as Uncle Michael forcibly removed me from the room, kicking and screaming.  The Winchesters were gone the next day, and I didn’t hear from Sam for ten long years.

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Leading Suspects

Summary: When an old friend in need reaches out to Katniss, she returns to the small town she swore she’d never set foot in again. Help Madge and then leave, she decides. But a murder investigation and one sheriff with stupid blue eyes and dimples all conspire to keep her where she thought she’d never want to be.

WARNINGS: RATED E for mentions of domestic abuse, character death, mild language to include racial slurs, an obscene love affair with coffee, and explicit sexual content.

This piece was lovingly crafted for my dear friend and beta, @peetabreadgirl, to celebrate her birthday. It’s based on a book I recently read and immediately had to Everlark because…well you’ll see. The book is Jed Had to Die by Tara Sevic. I am neither Tara Sevic nor Suzanne Collins and thus technically do not own the basic storyline or the characters. This is pure fun. Also, it’s multi-chapter, but they will be significantly shorter than my chapters usually are. Enjoy! Love you, PBJ! <3

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CHAPTER 1

There are few things a woman wouldn’t do for her one true love in this life. Maim, murder, wreck, and ruin. Because we all know that your one true love is reserved for that singular soul who inspires your heart and then protects it. Strong, dependable, forgiving, amazing. These are the qualities that garner affection. Especially at times when your love reliably comes through to rescue you from a horrible day. Enter Theo.

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