but this has been sitting in an open tab for like an hour

The Brown Bottle

Pairings: Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Omega!Werewolf!Reader - A/B/O

Word Count: 3400+

Summary: Sam is rough around the edges, you do your best to avoid him until one night you discover he’s your true mate and instincts take over. This is really just a lot of smut and a little plot to ease things along. 

My twist on a/b/o dynamics.

Beta:  @just-another-busy-fangirl

Warnings: NSFW gif, knotting, mating, breeding, dominance, claiming, fingering, unprotected sex, biting, dirty talk, rough sex, some dom/sub overtones.

Your name: submit What is this?

You stop in your tracks, clutching an open hand over your abdomen.

“Shit,” you mumble under your breath as an afterthought. Shit doesn’t quite do this kind of pain justice. This cycle’s heat has brought what your mother, Millie (owner and proprietor of The Brown Bottle), refers to as The Real Motherfuckers. The kind of cramps that stop a woman unexpectedly while on her way to work well after sundown. The two generic suppressants you popped an hour earlier aren’t working as well as you hoped and you find yourself wishing you’d taken a third.

These are indeed The Real Motherfuckers.

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Daddy Devil  { Submission }

<– [Prologue] | [Dominance] | 

A/N: Lmaoooo the title is misleading xD but! In the context of the first part of this story, it makes sense lol. So there!

Anyway, here’s the second part of Daddy Devil! There was a lot of positive feedback on the first part, so I figured I’d give writing a second part a shot. Hopefully you all like it!

Consider it a belated Valentine’s Day present~ ;p

Words: 7,414

Genre: Smut/Demon!AU

Namjoon finds himself standing at the bottom of the regal staircase, face blank and cock grown hard between his legs. The clock on the walls ticks just past 3AM, and the entire house is silent—Hell, for once, seems to have quieted down.

But the thoughts in Namjoon’s brain are loud. The images from his dream continue to play in his head, and he scowls, fingers curling into fists.

Taut, rosy nipples—skin decorated with bruises and hickies. Thighs quivering, lips and chin slick with drool, ass red—but that smirk. That cocky little smirk that only belongs to one girl he’s had the pleasure of attempting to ruin, and that damn smirk belongs to you. A smart little girl in Jungkook’s territory, daring enough to deem him “daddy” and even more bold as to play games in his presence despite the fact that you had been at his complete mercy.

The way you’d reacted and bantered with him had been branded into his mind, and you’d been terrorizing him even though your physical presence in his life was lacking.

And tonight is not the first night you had entered his dreams and made him like this—cock stiff and weeping, his heart thrumming with the need to dominate and make you submit.

Yet…his dependence somewhat scares him, because he doesn’t need you, so instead he turns his frustration elsewhere—stepping forward and throwing open the double doors leading into the Play Room.

Girls are thrown over the couches and chairs, eyes groggily popping open at the sound of someone entering. They’re wearing nothing but collars or piercings, typically not needing clothes when their services are needed by many of Namjoon’s men throughout the day.

Eyes widening, the girls can hardly believe their eyes when they spot that its Namjoon who has interrupted their sleep, and any rude thoughts that had come to mind fly away. They all scramble to their feet, watching as Namjoon looks them over, their mouths already slack as their gaze drops to the tent in his pants.

“Don’t make me ask,” he simply states, voice gruff from sleep, and undresses himself before sitting down in an arm chair. Obedient as always, the girls immediately surround him, hands roaming his tanned skin and their mouths parting to release quiet moans.

Namjoon closes his eyes as they work, eyebrows furrowed as lips caress his neck and chest, a small hand boldly wrapping around his cock. They tug skillfully, a mouth descending to enclose around the head of his length. The wet warmth comforts him, coaxing his orgasm towards the surface, but even so he still feels unsatisfied.

These girls have no voice—no effect on him. They don’t make him cocky—don’t give him a challenge. They’re here to please and nothing more, there’s no feeling behind their actions, no reaction behind what they feel.

When he opens his eyes he sees a girl knelt before him, mouth engulfing his cock, her eyes locked on his, waiting to receive his approval. But that’s all she cares about, making sure the Devil is happy with her work, and that doesn’t get Namjoon off.

It used to, in the drunk hours of the night, but not now.

Now he only sees the girls face and wishes that she could be you—trying your best to please him earnestly, searching for a reward yet also getting off despite the pain. A spicy, yet innocent demon—one that he wants to get his hands on once again.

“Fuck,” he growls, reaching down and shoving the girl off of him.

“Sir?” she asks in surprise, nervousness overtaking her tone. Standing up, Namjoon quickly steps into his pants, cock still hard against his leg, and looks back at the girls. His eyes are dark.

“You all did fine, go back to sleep.”

With that he exits the room and storms up the stairs. When he reaches his private quarters, Namjoon slams the door shut behind him, feet gluing to the floor a few steps inside the room. His eyes lock on the spot where he’d first saw you—hands bound above your head, body bare and utterly perfect.

Hand sneaking beneath the band of his pants, his palm strokes his cock, breath turning shaky as he recalls his memory of that day. Your ass, your lips—the way your pussy had felt around his cock. The way you’d obeyed him yet had made sure to retain your independence with wit, and the thought of your snarky words alone has a growl building in his throat, wrists twisting and his eyes fluttering shut.

He recalls your slicked thighs and quivering muscles as he’d touched you, and his teeth grind, dick aching under his touch. The temptation of your wet, warm walls enclosing him and taking him so wonderfully is what sends him over the edge, a gravelly curse sneaking past his lips as he cums in his own palm, the white substance accidentally painting the inside of his pants as well.

Eyes reopening, Namjoon stares down at himself, eyes burning maroon as confused anger passes through his skull. He doesn’t remember the last time he got off like this—like a blushing virgin boy, jacking off to fantasies in his head. He’s always had people to service him—to do his bidding, to take care of his needs. And the girls eat him up, truly. A chance to pleasure the Devil—what lower level, horny demon would pass the opportunity up?

But now they’re not enough for him, and it’s frustrating to realize that he wants you. God, you of all people—a random demon he hadn’t even known about until two weeks ago. But…fuck, something about you has him yearning for more…

“Fuck,” he growls, running his unsoiled hand through his hair. Namjoon walks forward and steps out of his pants, discarding his shirt on the bathroom floor as he strides into the white-tiled room, hand reaching out to start the shower.

He wants you but he’s not sure if you want to see him again. After all, he’d taken you under his mercy, even if you had enjoyed it (at least judging by the way your body had reacted).

But why should he care about the way you feel? He’s the Devil, he can have what he wants.

So, attempting to push his worries aside, writing it off as an emotion he shouldn’t need to bother with (even though the question of: do you want him like he wants you? remains), Namjoon steps into the steaming shower and decides that the next time you come to his mind he won’t hold back. He’ll come and find you.

Darkness descends upon Hell, the artificial sun fading away. The sky changes shade as the ball in the sky fades from yellow to dimmed white, craters appearing on its surface—a little feature added to mimic the look of Earth’s moon.

Namjoon has always been interested in Earthlings and the way that their world functions, Jungkook muses, nursing the glass of juice the bar tender had passed him. Well—half juice, the other half is vodka, but he hates to drink it straight. He typically despises being teased by his hyungs as the youngest, yet in this instance he’ll resign to his younger age. Sweet drinks are still his favorite.

Taking a swig of the concoction, Jungkook’s eyes shift sideways, head turning as he survey’s the laden bar. Most of the patrons he knows briefly on a name or face basis. It’s his job as the 3rd level guardian to know those he needs to keep tabs on.

However, mixed into the crowd are unfamiliar faces as well—people who are likely from Hoseok or Jimin’s level. It’s rare that anyone from Jin’s or Taehyung’s levels ever comes up for a visit, and typically the high class demons of Namjoon’s domain stay mingled amongst their own rank. And, of course, people from Yoongi’s dusty basement don’t get out much either, or…ever, really.

Sighing, Jungkook turns on his stool and takes another mouthful of his drink. Slyly, his eyes glance to the corner of the room where you and your friends are sitting, chatting away about one thing or another.

A couple days after Namjoon had deposited you back home, you had bumped into Jungkook, slapping your hand against his chest angrily at the way he had treated you before. Jungkook had laughed, taking your hand into his own and bringing it to his lips, apologizing for his actions. “It was too much fun,” he’d said, which had earned him another smack, and then…an invitation for lunch. To talk.

You had wanted to know about Namjoon—what he would do next, if he would come for you again. Jungkook hadn’t been able to supply you with much of an answer. He had no idea how Namjoon would act from here on. To his knowledge, nothing like this had ever happened before. Sure, Namjoon had found plenty of girls over the ages to take into his bed for one night only, but…this was different. That’s what Jungkook sensed from the situation. And his suspicions had only been confirmed when you had—

Oh, and do you know what this is??” you had asked him, looking around with slightly flushed cheeks before you’d lifted up your shirt, revealing the small, shattered black circle on your ribs.

In speed unmatched Jungkook had immediately reached over, tugging your shirt back in place, his face so close to yours that you had seen the shock in his eyes.

“That’s the Devil’s mark,” he had said, sounding baffled, his voice quiet as he had fallen back into his seat. “I mean…it’s the guardians mark—we each have one—

Pushing a bit of energy into his palm, Jungkook made his own circular black mark appear.

“What…is it?” you had asked, and Jungkook had bit his lips, brows furrowing.

“It basically…is claim? Well–,” he quickly made to amend his phrasing. “The guardians use these circles as a way to keep track of the people we especially…want to keep an eye on. The mark allows us to sense any extreme emotions—pain, sadness, happiness…ecstasy…

Your eyes had widened, arms crossing over your chest, and Jungkook had stared back at you, unsure what to say.

“So it’s basically a leash.”

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Regarding Dean

Characters:  Dean, Reader, Sam

Summary:  Sam calls reader to babysit Dean after he’s cursed by a witch.

Warnings:  Angst-ish

Word Count:  1776

Tags are at the bottom.  As always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated.

Regarding Dean

The screen lights up on your phone, Sam Winchester’s name flashing on the screen.This can’t be good, otherwise Sam would never, ever call you. Not after everything that happened. Should you answer? You don’t really want to dredge all that shit up. But if he’s calling, it’s important. You’re thumb hovers over the green button. It’s on the third ring before you decide to answer.  


“(Y/N)? It’s me, Sam. Please, don’t hang up, just hear me out.”

“I’m listening.”

“Thank…thank you. Listen, I wouldn’t be calling if I didn’t need help, you know that I wouldn’t. But I need you.”


You can’t figure out how Sam knows you’re in the area. You haven’t had contact with Dean or Sam for over year. Is he still keeping tabs on you through the hunter network?  It’s touching in a way, you’ve always had a soft spot for Sammy. Truth is, you miss him.

Why the fuck are you driving to the motel right now? Why would you willingly put yourself in this position? Must be temporary insanity. It’s the only logical explanation. Maybe you should drive straight to the psych ward and check yourself in after this is over.

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or…lena doesn’t stop believing in the one person who believed in her

(or…the terrible thing i wrote to get rid of writer’s block and it’s long and sad but has a happy ending)

Supergirl dies on a Wednesday.

Sometimes, when she’s alone in her office in the wee hours of the morning, still in yesterday’s clothing and unsure when she’d last eaten, she thinks about that, the utter normalcy of losing National City’s hero on a Wednesday. Somehow, the death on such a boring day of the week provides a sort of stark contrast that Lena has trouble wrapping her head around. After all, surely the hero and pride of National City would fall in a blaze of glory on a Friday night, a Sunday afternoon, even a Monday morning during rush hour.

But a Wednesday? Some time between mid-morning and noon? When nothing was happening except for the drudge of the week, the tireless churning of society?

She doesn’t understand it—has tried to come to terms with it with very little success. In her weakest moments, when she’s staring down the end of a bottle of whiskey or wine (before Jess or Maggie or even James Olsen pry the bottle from her fingertips and help her get home), she thinks the very banality of Supergirl’s death is evidence of its unnecessary nature, its needless, pointless, meaningless, asinine

Supergirl dies on a Wednesday.

By Friday, the President herself comes to National City to mourn the fallen hero. She talks about the few short conversations she’s had with Supergirl, how everyone should be inspired and follow Supergirl’s wonderful example. A true hero, an exemplary citizen.

(Lena doesn’t go to the ceremony. She and Alex spend that afternoon in Kara’s apartment, sitting on Kara’s couch, Alex stoically staring at the television screen with silent tears running down her cheeks and Lena gripping her hand so tightly she thinks she’ll break fingers.  

After that, Lena doesn’t see much of Alex at all.)

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Welcome to the Freak Show

Characters: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader

Length: 1564+ words

TW: Abandonment 

A/N: This is for @winchesters-favorite-girl​‘s 31 Days of Halloween Challenge! Thank you for letting me join your challenge, and I hope you enjoy this one! I had more ideas for this fic, but I didn’t have time to write it 😔

A/N 2: I would like to thank @dreamin-of-somewhere-else​ for being my Beta!! Gosh, she’s so awesome! This fic couldn’t have been written without her (seriously). She was such a great help in making this fic decent! Thanks for putting up with me, love! I really appreciate all your help! 

Prompt: Freak Show

Feedback is appreciated (AND SO ARE YOU)!

Sam Winchester was dead.

The two remaining Winchesters stayed silent as they drove back to the motel, their brother laying down in the backseat. They packed their stuff, planning to go to Bobby’s place. Y/N went to the bathroom before making the long trip, but once she came out, Dean was holding her duffel bag out to her.

“Leave,” he instructed. His voice cold and emotionless, and unlike anything she’s ever heard. No matter what, Dean always spoke to her in a gentle tone, even when training her. He’s never even raised his voice at her unless he was worried about her well-being. This wasn’t the older brother she knew, and honestly, she was scared. Her heart was beating twice as fast, and her palms were getting sweaty.

Her eyes widened, mouth agape. “D-Dee?”

“You need to leave.” Dean harshly glared at his younger sister, jaw clenched tightly.

“B-But why?” she whimpered, taking a step towards her older brother.

“Because I said so!”

“This isn’t you, Dean-”

“This was your fault. You messed up. You didn’t do enough research, and got Sam killed. You’re not cut out to be a hunter, and I can’t have you staying with us, and endangering our lives.”

“But, Dean-” His words cut deep. He knew how self-conscious she was about her abilities. She willingly sat out on hunts if she had the slightest inkling that she may not be able to perform her best. After all, when it comes to hunting, mistakes could be deadly.

“Leave!” he roared. He grabbed her elbow, pushing her out the door, and throwing her duffel bag at her feet. He slammed the door as she scrambled to get back on her feet.

“DEAN!” Y/N pounded at the door, shouting for him to let her in, tears streaming down her face. Finally, Dean came out. He didn’t even spare her a glance as he walked to the Impala. He ignored her pleas, following him to the car. She tried grabbing his arm, but he shook her off, finally pushing her to the ground as he went into his car. Y/N watched as he turned on the engine, and drove off.

The eldest Winchester clenched his jaw so tightly it was starting to ache. He didn’t dare look at his rear-view mirror, afraid his resolution would waver at the sight of his youngest sibling. This is what he had to do. He tried ignoring the tear that escaped his eye as he drove to the closest cross-road.

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[Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3]

Relationship: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Natasha confronts you on her suspicions before you’re called on a mission. But Bucky has some plans for how he wants to spend the night.

A/N: Okay! Final part! This was supposed to be a one-shot… oops? I hope this is a good enough resolution, the response to this fic has been overwhelming

Warnings: Language, smut, oral (m receiving), sex.

Originally posted by veronikaphoenix

“So you and Barnes, huh?”


“Wh-what?” you stammer, your eyes widening. That was the last thing you expected but you scold yourself for not having expected it. This was Natasha.

“How long? A few days, right? Tell me I’m not losing my touch” she finally looks up at you with a wink and the undeniable fact settles in; there’s no way you could convince her that she’s wrong.

With a groan, you fall back on to the bed, covering your face with your arm as you hear Natasha’s laugh before the bed dips beside you and she takes a seat.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, it’s not your fault. I’m just too good at what I do” she teases, softly slapping your thigh and you grunt, pushing her hand off as you sit up. But you couldn’t blame her for noticing and a small smile soon appeared on your lips.

“Does anyone else know?” your voice is quiet, almost scared to hear the answer. Imagining how relentless the teasing would be was unbearable.

She scoffs. “This lot? No chance, they’re oblivious” and her words ease your mind.

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A History of Violence - Part Two (completed)

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Omega!Werewolf!Reader - A/B/O

Part One Here

Summary: You and Sam are a bonded pair with four children. You’re both interrogated by the police who are convinced that Sam and Dean are running a criminal enterprise.

This falls into the same AU as The Brown Bottle, Moonlight and The Derby

Warnings: Language, violence, dom/sub overtones. mentions of: knotting, breeding, claiming, giving birth, assault, mention of rape

Words: 4600+

Betas: @saxxxology & @moonlitskinwalker

Your name: submit What is this?

Interrogation: Sam

Sam sits on a tiny chair in a small room, wrists in handcuffs resting on the table in front of him. He’s been waiting for the better part of three hours without so much as a hello from anyone. He’s got a pretty good idea of what’s happening, at least the basics. He can’t say he wasn’t expecting to be brought in for questioning, he was, however, unprepared for the SWAT team knocking down the door to the mobile office at their construction site.

He takes a deep breath, running his hands through his hair. While he’s not new to being on this side of the law, he’s never been left to sweat in the box for this long.

He gets it, they’re proving a point.

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Wrapped Around

Jimin x Reader // college!AU // 9694 words

Summary: Freshman year was a mess and sophomore year doesn’t seem to be looking too good either. You know boys like them are no good for you but maybe they’re just your kind of type

Originally posted by bwipsul

Genre: Fluff, warning: groping(?)

TA refers to teaching assistant

Part 2 | Part 2.5 | Part 3 | Part 3.5 | Part 4

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a while now sigh and I feel bad for not putting out anything this winter break! This is a somewhat exaggerated version of what is a combination of my friends’ freshman year haha. Man I love college.

College had been a lot harder than you expected and you struggled, barely able to crawl past the finish line that was the end of freshman year. As sophomore year came around, new year, new me, you had declared. You were on a mission to bring your GPA back up. No more spending your nights at some random house, celebrating a birthday of a person whom you did not know but rather more nights spent hunched over your computer in some well-lit corner in the library.

Even though you felt invigorated to start the new semester, all that disappeared by the time Wednesday came around. You’re not sure why they call the first week, syllabus week when you had homework and quizzes assigned to you already. By the time it was Thursday, you could only thank god that you were so close to the weekend.

Sat in your final class for the day, your physics discussion section, you could only dream of the long shower you were going to take once you got back to your dorm. The bell rings, and the TA gets up to begin writing on the board but the distant noises of a person running down the hallway makes it difficult for you to concentrate. Within seconds, a rather sweaty boy reaches the doorway, panting as he bows apologetically at the TA before taking a seat right next to you. The TA waves at him dismissively as he continues to drone on about the material you learnt in class this week.

“Alright, now you can work in pairs or groups to solve the worksheet. In 15 minutes, we’ll come back to solve questions 1-3,” your TA declares.

You turn to your right to see that the person next to you had already formed a group with a few other students and you were too shy to ask if you could join. You turn to your left to find the sweaty boy silently working on the problem set. Letting out a light sigh, you begin attempting to solve the worksheet on your own.

There’s a long overdue silence before the boy seated next to you turns eagerly towards you and introduces himself. “Hi, I’m Jimin and you are?”

“Y/N,” You smile politely before turning to your worksheet.

He glances over at your worksheet and scoffs. “That’s wrong,”


“That’s wrong,” He points. “You have to use the first equation that’s written down on the board.”

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Weakness - Mitch Rapp

Originally posted by yaehl

word count: really fuckin long (9269)
warnings: swearing, violence, the torture kind, mitch being hot as always

You sat at the kitchen table of your cabin home, a glass of water in your hands as you watched the outdoors curiously.  A black SUV had pulled in front of the house, a woman leaving it but you could tell that there were others in it.  You stood up, wandering closer and wrapping your cardigan around your tank top and shirts to preserve your warmth as you opened the door, just enough to hear what was going on outside.

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Tired of hiding

This one is for the lovely anon who sent me the prompt. I really really hope it lives up to your idea and how you imagined it. *crosses fingers* *worries*

(Note to everyone else reading this - the idea and most of the storyline isn’t mine)

Summary: Baz starts going to an LGBT+ club at Watford, Simon finds out and it changes the way he sees Baz

Warning: homophobia (well… kind of. It may all just be a big misunderstanding)

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I Know Now

Zimbits || ~5′700 words || Gen. Rating || AU || AO3

The team members who take Psychology, Biology and Politics of Food start up a study group, but it’s less of a study group, and more of a trying-to-set-Jack-and-Bitty-up group.

“Hey, Jack,” Bitty says brightly as he enters the living room with his textbook balanced under one arm, and his other holding a tray of freshly made brownie.

“Hey, Bittle,” Jack replies, already sitting on a chair with his books open on the coffee table.

Bitty puts his stuff down next to Jack’s, taking care with the tray of food. He lifts his arm to let the textbook thunk down on the ground.

“Where is everyone?” He asks Jack, sitting beside his fallen textbook.

“Shitty’s stuck talking to his thesis advisor. Lardo’s got a project due tomorrow. Chowder says he can’t make this week. No idea about Holster or Nursey,” Jack rattles off.

“So, just us then?”

“Just us,” Jack confirms.

It’s the second week in a row that has happened.


Bitty sits on a cushion on the floor by the coffee table, sipping occasionally from a mug of tea, and refreshing his twitter frequently. The others should be here for the study group by now. He reluctantly opens his textbook, figuring he should use the time to study even if no-one’s here to help him figure out the biology side of this week’s class.

He’s two pages in when the front door opens. Bitty looks up, eager for company.

“Jack! Hey.” Bitty smiles and waves at him.

“Sorry I’m late. Class went overtime.”

Jack sits down on the green couch, rolling his eyes when Bitty gives him a look. “Stop worrying about this thing.”

“Jack, it’s infested,” Bitty insists immediately.

“You don’t know that,” Jack replies.

“And you don’t not know that.”

Jack just shakes his head and takes out his own textbook and exercise book. “Did you do the extra reading this week?” he asks Bitty.

Bitty senses the topic divergence, but goes along with Jack anyway. It’s not the first time they’ve argued over the couch, and it won’t be the last.

“I did not,” Bitty answers. “But I printed it out.”

“Not quite the same thing. I’ll summarise it for you.”

Bitty smiles at Jack gratefully. “Thank you.”


The fourth time it happens, Bitty makes Jack move into the kitchen.

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as long as you’re with me

pairing: keith/lance

words: 2.1k

rating: g

summary: Lance wants to make the best of their layover. Keith’s just sick and tired.


“I can’t believe we’re stuck here for four hours.”

“Oh, stop complaining. It won’t be that bad.”

Lance barely hears the muttered, “Yes, it will,” behind him, and chooses to ignore it. Keith can be super pessimistic sometimes, and he’s just grumpy because he has the sniffles. It’s unfortunate timing, for sure, but Lance is sure it won’t put too much of a damper on their vacation. At this point, not even a four hour layover could ruin his mood.

He wraps an arm around Keith’s shoulders and gives him a dopey grin. “The important thing is that we’re together.”

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That Misleading Sex Scene (Sebastian Stan X Reader)

Title: That Misleading Sex Scene  [ REQUESTED by @melconnor2007 ]

Pairing: Sebastian Stan X Reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight angst 


Hey sweetie, here’s the completed request and I hope it is up to standard. I tweeked it slightly because I thought It’d be weird for reader not to know how filming works if they’ve been together for some time. Enjoy! 

Sebastian and (Y/N) met on a cold winter morning in the small cafe round the corner of his apartment.

(Y/N) was on her way to work that morning and was going to grab herself a cup of tea to start the day and Sebastian was back in New York after a long three months of filming away in Los Angles. He was on his way back home from his session at the gym when he stopped to get himself breakfast at the cafe.

The poor man forgot his wallet at the gym locker and was left stranded at the cafe, his bagel and cup of joe in hand, but no money what so ever to pay for them.

(Y/N) was behind him in line and noticed the worry lines forming on his forehead and the awkward smile the server had on her face. She realized the man in front of her seemed to have forgotten his wallet and just as he was about to call someone to come help him pay when she stepped forward and placed a couple of bills on the counter and ordered her tea with a smile.

“I’ll take an English Breakfast and please put his order on my tab.” (Y/N) offered, giving Sebastian a nod and a smile.

His face immediately loosened up and a relieved smile hung on his lips.

“Thank you so much. I forgot my wallet back in the gym and I was just about to get someone to help me bring it over.” Sebastian said, his smile still not fading as he took in (Y/N) dressed in a simple white dress shirt, tucked into a mid-length pencil skirt, a pair of deep burgundy heels on her feet, her hands filled with documents.

Sebastian didn’t get to pay (Y/N) back for his breakfast that day. She brushed him off when he offered to leave her his number, much to his amusement. But that didn’t stop the actor from sitting at the table right by the cafe’s door every morning from that day on.

(Y/N) was having a lazy Sunday lounging in her apartment. She and Sebastian’s relationship has been going strong for six months and the actor was away on a movie filming schedule out of town. It was the first time Sebastian was to be away for more than a week for filming since they got together.

The couple made it a point to stay in contact via FaceTime and texts whenever their busy schedules allowed.

Sebastian was (Y/N)’s second boyfriend since her first back in college and she was overwhelmed by everything and even more so considering Sebastian’s job as an actor.

She didn’t know much about the film industry, having no friends or acquaintance working in Film other than Sebastian. She did know, however, that Sebastian was filming in a movie where he plays a gymnast.

Grabbing the iPad off the coffee table, she clicked on the app for news and habitually go to the entertainment segment, a habit she acquired once she started dating an actor.

She let the page load and shuffled to the cookie jar only to be disappointed by the lack of sweet treats, knowing that Sebastian probably snuck a few during his cheat day.

Her focus was pulled away by the iPad as she saw her boyfriend in one of the banners on screen. Her boyfriend, Sebastian Stan, was buck naked behind an equally naked blonde female, in an extremely compromising position.

Her eyes widened in disbelief, hands reaching for the device. Clicking on the article, (Y/N) desperately attempted to keep her tears at bay and read through.

Sebastian was apparently filming a sex scene with his female co-star for his next movie, The Bronze. Her boyfriend, Sebastian Stan, was filming a sex scene in LA, and (Y/N) had no idea it was happening.

Her hand loosened its grasp on the tablet and it slipped through, hitting the floor with a loud thud.

Just then, the familiar alert tone on FaceTime rang through her now silent apartment.

(Y/N) took one look at the caller and switched the device off and trudged back into her bedroom, wanting some time alone to clear her thoughts.

Why would Sebastian film a sex scene?

He’s an actor, but a sex scene?

Couldn’t they have gotten someone else that looked like him from the back to do it?

Why would he have sex with someone and not think to tell her?

Was it because they hadn’t taken that step in the relationship?

Was it her fault?

Thoughts flew past her mind, the worst it got as time passed. She couldn’t fathom the reason her loving boyfriend would go off and have sex with someone for a film and not think to ask if (Y/N) was comfortable with it.

Sebastian was well into the 50th call and 70th text message and all platforms (Y/N) was contactable on. If he was worried when the first call when to voicemail after a few rings, he was downright out of his mind as he hung up the 51st call that sent him straight to the machine.

He was pacing around set, hands clutching onto his phone, the worried frown on his face evident to the crew members.

“Hey, I really got to go home. Right now. I’ll make sure to be back by the time my next scene starts filming tomorrow at dawn. I promise. I just really need to go back now.” Sebastian said, his words coming out hasty, face etched with worry.

Seeing him so explicitly worried, her co-star and director, Melissa, gave him the go-ahead to head back home even offering to book him his ticket.

It was a grueling 5 and a half hour flight, and Sebastian slept not a wink. Once he got off the plane, he was back on his mission to call you.

As the call went to voicemail once again, he let out a frustrated growl, swiftly making his way to hail a cab to your apartment.

You were curled up in the think blanket that still vaguely smelled like your boyfriend. Your eyes swollen, nosed red and stuffed up from the hours of crying and self-doubt.

The harsh opening of your room’s door shocked you as you turn to look at the intruder.

Your puffy eyes met with Sebastian gray ones, his eyes swimming with worry. He took only two quick steps and reached you. He gathered you close towards his broad chest, your form still wrapped in the thick duvet.

“I was so worried (Y/N). You scared me half to death,” he whispered into your neck, face buried in the comfort of your scent.

You pulled yourself from him lightly and looked down on your lap as you wrung the end of your sweater.

“Why are you back Seb? You should still be… be filming.” you replied, sounding resigned and tired.

Sebastian took one look at you and registered something was more than amiss. He placed his warm hands on your cheeks and kneeled by the bed, pulling your face towards him own, your foreheads touching.

“Whats wrong baby? You gotta talk to me,” he asked with a soft voice, eyes desperate for some sort of answer.

“I… just… am I enough for you?” (Y/N) questioned back, voice not louder than a whisper.

The question caught the man off guard, his eyebrows shot up, frown lines evident.

“Of course you’re enough. You’re more than enough!” came his reply, his thumbs rubbing her now wet cheeks.

Her sobbing broke his heart and he was desperate to find out what made his sweet girlfriend so distraught.

“I… Then why… why would you… why would you have… have sex with… with someone else?” (Y/N)’s reply came out choppy between sobs.

Sebastian had an array of emotions passing through his face, from worry to confusion and finally to realization.

“Oh sweetheart, it was just a scene, my love. We didn’t do anything, God forbid!” Sebastian explained, gathering the weeping girl into his arms as he positioned himself on the bed, his back resting on the headboard, his girlfriend completely snuggled in his warmth.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mention it before. It has been years since I last dated someone and my girlfriends before were all in the industry and it just completely slipped my mind that you may not understand how this works. Oh, baby, I am so sorry.” Sebastian tried to explain to (Y/N), pulling the girl closer to him,

“Everything was acting, we didn’t do anything that we shouldn’t have, I promise. I could even get you the uncut tape so you could check for yourself! Please don’t cry anymore.” he pleaded.

Hearing his explanation, you burst into even louder sobs. The guilt you felt was extreme. You couldn’t believe that you thought so lightly of your boyfriend and that you caused him so much worry he left filming just to come back to pacify you.

Your apologies came out choppy and sob-filled and you heaved out your sorry’s to Sebastian.

The man effortlessly lifted you off him and settled you next to him, still close.

“I’m sorry too, baby. I’m still new to our dating thing. And I may forget to tell you some things, I may even say the wrong things and make you upset. But please remember, I will always love you, no matter what you may think. Let’s work on this together alright?” Sebastian murmured, as he rested his forehead on hers.

(Y/N) gave him a nod of acknowledgment, teary eyes full of apologies.

“And you will be coming back with me to LA for filming alright, sweetheart? I’ll show you everything about my job! It’ll be fun I promise.” Sebastian offered as he placed a sweet kiss on your lips.

Tagging: @itsanerdlife @buckysmusculararm @klaus-is-king @callamint @dryerpet @katbird787 @musichowler @captainfbffangirl99 @thatawkwardtinyperson @cassandras-musings @cleverwatson125 @universal-glitch @draconicuchiha @frickin-bats @smile-sugar @ryverpenrad @buckyywiththegoodhair @buckyappreciationsociety @17marvelousfreak @seeyainanotherlifebrotha @winchesterandpie @northscorpio @winter-is-ending @feelmyroarrrr  @marvelouslyloki

This is a requested piece. I have never written for Sebastian Stan before so I wouldn’t know if I’m any good. But I hope this was okay. As per usual, let me know if you’d like to be tagged or untagged!

For my other writings, search “Ting writes” on my Tumblr!”


Jughead X Reader

Wordcount: 1,888 

Request:  Bit of a different request, but could you do something where Jughead is helping the reader recover from past substance abuse and addiction?

Warnings: Mentions on substance abuse, swearing, angst 

A/N: This issue is very personal to home with me, that’s why I’m writing it. Last year I lost a friend due to substance abuse, and many of my friends take drugs recreationally and have become addicted, so I’ve dealt with addiction first-handedly. I’ve seen the way this has affected them and it’s not a pretty sight. There is plenty of support out there if anyone ever needs to speak to someone about substance abuse. My inbox is always open if anyone wants a chat…Even if it isn’t about substance abuse. 

Keep reading

somebody else

summary: yoongi encounters the only woman he had ever loved again
pairing: yoongi / ♀ reader
word count: 1.2 k
genre: angst
warnings: none
playlist: somebody else / the 1975

this is the second part to “congratulations


Originally posted by jjks


There’s little time for Yoongi to think when he sees her again. It was past midnight and he was running on four hours of sleep for the past two days. After two hours of sitting and trying to adjust himself in his bed, he got up and decide to get sleeping pills from the pharmacy around the corner that was open 24 hours. Usually sleep came easy to Yoongi, given that he was always tired from the countless hours of work and practice he had to put into his career, but the headlines that broke the news for the past two days had him on edge. The article hadn’t caught his attention at first, but Namjoon had tagged him on it. He was confused as to why Namjoon would tag him on an article about how some CEO’s son was engaged and was about to click out when the video at the bottom of the article stopped him in his tracks.

It was her.

His heart was racing a million miles per hour, but somehow, with shaky hands, he clicked on the video.

She was dancing with the future CEO, someone by the name Jin, who was holding her tight. The two of them smiled at each other as if the stars were placed in the sky by the other. They were in some sort of rose garden, surrounded by pretty tables lined with white satin. People were gathered around, watching the couple. The video was only 10 seconds in when Jin pulled away. Yoongi watched as y/n watched Jin in confusement but her mouth fell when Jin got down on one knee.

Yoongi threw up on the other side of the bed before he could watch her say yes.

Yoongi’s bloodshot eyes skim through the aisles of the pharmacy, looking for something that could help him relax. It had been two years since she left his life, but it seemed like it had just been yesterday. The engagement only opened a wound that still hadn’t healed after so long.

He had tried reaching out before. After he ruined his life he called her over what seemed like a thousand times. Countless text messages were sent. She left her stuff in their apartment for a week, before she picked her stuff up when she knew he wouldn’t be home. He only lasted there for three more weeks, unable to deal with the silence and emptiness that came without her presence. But he deserved it. That night he was the only that made a stupid decision. All the pressures on him snapped when that woman told him that she was the only one that was meant to be by his side. Not y/n.

He kept tabs on her for a year. Made secret accounts to look through her social media after she blocked him on everything. He saw when she went back to school, something that made him proud and ashamed given that she had quit first due to her loyalty and love to him. Yoongi watched as she got better, went out with friends, got a good job, and spread her wings. He was happy to see her living happily, but it killed him knowing that she was moving on while he still kept holding on. After the first year he stopped keeping tabs, ready to move on. He knew he could never love anyone as he had loved her, but it didn’t matter. He had lost her and couldn’t do anything about it.

Yoongi finally finds the pills and is about to head to the counter when he hears a familiar voice. He stops dead in his tracks and feels like he’s going insane. But the laughter that follows a male voice has him shaking. He turns his head and goes pale when he catches a glimpse of y/n holding hands with Jin.

Yoongi drops the pills and runs out.


Jin is apparently a musician as well. He has the voice of an angel, but when asked if he wants to take it to a professional level, Jin laughs and says he wants to take over his dad’s business. Jin is a hard worker, a kind person, and an incredibly beautiful person. Looking through his profiles Yoongi feels almost worthless. His eyes trail down the profile he has found of Jin and the countless articles written about his success so far. He even finds information about his fiancé. They had met almost two years ago, got closed, and started dating close to the date Yoongi decided to move on. Yoongi clicks out the tab, breathing heavily and face pale. He runs his hand through his hair. He knows he deserves this. He cheated, he’s the one that ruined their relationship. But thinking about y/b with another man…

Yoongi closes his laptop and throws it across the room. He doesn’t care if it breaks, he can just buy another one. He has the money now. But does it even matter? He thinks, closing his eyes and collapsing on his bed. He remembers when he first started with music it wasn’t about the money but doing what made him happy. But when he noted y/n losing weight due to the lack of income, he wanted that money. Wanted to provide for her. Now he was one of the richest musicians in Korea, but he lost his girl along the way.

For the first time in two days Yoongi falls asleep and dreams of simpler days. He’s back in high school and there’s a girl waiting for him after school, her face is lit by a smile that’s rare to find. Yoongi takes her hand and wonders if they’ll ever part. When Yoongi wakes up again he knows the answer but doesn’t say it out loud, instead his room is filled with sobs.


Y/n knows if she wants to marry Jin she needs to let go of the ring she had hid and forgotten about in a box deep in her closet. She tells Jin this over their post dinner cuddling session on their couch.

“I want to return the ring I told you about.”

Jin falls silent. Her head is pressed against his chest and she feels his heartbeat quicken. She presses her hand on his chest and looks up.

“It means nothing to me now, Jin. You’re my only future. But I think it’s the right thing to do.” She assures him, leaning up and kissing him in the neck. She feels Jin relax with her words and affectionate gesture. Y/n can’t help and smile, because she means every word.


Yoongi didn’t expect her to show up to his door after so long. He almost pounces on her but she raises her hand up when he steps forward. She pulls something from her pocket and Yoongi’s heart stops when he realizes what it is.

He had given it to her as a promise when she went off to college the first time. Told her that he planned to marry her, but given that he couldn’t afford an engagement ring yet he’d give her a promise. It was an old wedding band given to him by his grandmother, who told him to give it to his soulmate.

“Sorry it took so long to get this back to you, but here it is.” She presses the ring into his hand and smiles, that genuine smile of hers because she knows how sorry he is.

“I forgave you a long time ago, Yoongi. I hope that you have forgiven yourself as well.”

Y/n smiles again and turns on her heels.

Yoongi never sees her again, but the hole in his heart doesn’t feel as empty as it did before.

anactualfairyqueen  asked:

Hi! I really like your writing and was wondering if you could do a hurt/comfort type thing where Neil runs away and Andrew has to find him?

Hey! So, a million years later… I hope you like this. It might be a bit lacking on the comfort because this prompt ate my heart *cries*

Neil’s expensive running shoes hit the pavement with satisfying slaps. He’s reached his peak stride and every movement is effortless, his breaths come easily and his heart is ticking at a steady rate. He would never admit it to the others but the natural high from the flood of endorphins is what keeps him moving, even after regular practices and training. Every member of the team has a coping mechanism or two, Neil just happens to have one that is healthy, one that stems from a lifetime spent on the run and the necessity to be fast.

The neighborhood is familiar, one he’s run through almost every day since he first picked this route over a year ago. He was cold when he started the run, the early December chill biting through his sweats and light running jacket and T-shirt, but now he’s warmed up enough that he’s breaking a sweat. Cars pass by, slow. No one is out walking or running at this hour, it’s too early and too cold for the native South Carolinians. But Neil was born and raised in Baltimore, he’s had to endure hours out in the freezing cold, plus he’s lived in some other places, farther north, where the winters lasted for endless months of ice and snow.

Neil takes a right, heading down a narrow side street that runs behind a row of off-campus apartments. He’s not really thinking about anything, just enjoying the burn in his muscles, the rhythmic inhale and exhale of his breaths, when his phone rings.

The tone gives away the caller. Neil didn’t go to the trouble of picking a song, he simply picked the most ominous pre-programmed ringtone and left it, dreading the day he would hear it.

Ducking behind a large oak tree Neil pulls the phone from the pocket of his jacket. His fingers tremble as he stares at the name. It’s been nearly six months since they last communicated. He flips the phone open, holding it to his ear; he covers his mouth with his other hand, trying to silence his breathing.


Neil doesn’t gasp, doesn’t react. You knew this was coming. You knew.

“Are you exercising? You sound out of breath.”

He would stop breathing if he could.


It’s a warning that won’t be repeated.

“Yes,” Neil replies, taking slow, quiet breaths. “I was running.”

He crouches down on the cracked sidewalk, weight balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to run, ready to move. He needs to go, the urge is so overwhelming that he has to close his eyes and focus all his thought on the voice at the other end to keep from taking off.

“My men have been keeping tabs on you. Our mutual agreement is progressing well.” A pause. Neil hears swallowing, the delicate clink of ice in a glass. “You have winter break coming up.”

The silence stretches until Neil realizes that he is meant to speak.

“Yes.” It’s barely a whisper. He’s losing it, fast. The sooner the call is over the sooner he can—Neil doesn’t even know. It feels like someone is stepping on his chest.

“You will come to me.” There is no room for negotiation or argument. There is no acceptable answer other than an affirmative.

“Understood.” It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

“Good. My assistant will be in touch with the details.” Neil waits, his self-control unraveling by the second. “Take care, Nathaniel.”

The call ends and Neil’s up and running. He pulls the back of the phone open, the thin plastic backing clatters to the pavement, followed by the thunk of the battery hitting the sidewalk. Neil is on autopilot, running another drill that his mother instilled in him. His nails scrabble with the SIM card and he tosses it down the storm drain. The phone gets chucked into someone’s trashcan.

He’s only a few miles away from a decent sized gas station where he can get a ride to one of the major interstates, 20 or 26 or 77. His internal map of the east coast opens up and he weighs the options; he still shies away from Baltimore, from northern cities where the devil he knows lurks. The pull to travel south kicks in, hardwired like a migratory instinct.

At no point during his exodus does Neil stop and think about what—who—he is leaving behind, he doesn’t stop to examine why he’s running. Every step of the way he hears Ichirou’s voice and the cold possession that laced every polite word. You will come to me. He’s running on impulse, he’s running blind, he’s running, he’s running, he’s running—


Andrew gets the call after midnight. He is not in a good place, has not been in a good place since Neil failed to return from his run. Before the panic set in he was calm, able to methodically check Neil’s usual spots, then he contacted Wymack and Abby when Neil did not turn up for his classes. Once lunchtime hit Andrew had met his limit for staying calm and the Foxes were sent on a campus-wide, then town-wide, search for Neil. Andrew followed Neil’s running route and found the pieces of the phone, though he didn’t find the phone itself. Standing there, in the empty space behind the apartments, clutching a fucking cell phone battery… it was almost worse than Baltimore. It was worse because this time Neil had chosen to run. And Andrew didn’t know if he would come back.

“I fucked up.”

Neil sounds exhausted and empty and broken and—

“Andrew. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I want to come home. I want to explain—”

“Where are you.” Andrew doesn’t want to hear another word, not like this, over the phone with Neil gasping like he can’t breath. Andrew’s anger feels too enormous for this conversation but he tamps it down.

“At your house.” Andrew checks his phone; the number is for the landline at the Columbia house. He had recognized it, of course, when the call came in but he had been too distracted to know what it meant. “I had the key with me. When I left…” Neil sobs once; Andrew shuts his eyes, squeezing his hand into a tight fist. “I want to come home.”

Andrew can’t speak. He wants to yell, to throw all the fucking harshness and recriminations and fear at Neil but he doesn’t. Instead he throws the phone at the wall, the impact hard enough to shatter the phone, to knock a dent in the dry wall.

“Andrew?” Nicky stands in the doorway, hugging himself, his eyes huge and watchful.

“He’s in Columbia.” Andrew collects his wallet and keys, grabs a jacket and Neil’s duffle bag, prepped and packed for a fast exit. “He’s fine.” The word comes out caustic and even as he says it Andrew knows that it’s not the truth. If Neil had been fine he would never have run, if Neil had been fine he wouldn’t be sobbing and begging on the phone. Neil Josten had stopped being a rabbit. Neil Josten had stopped being afraid. Yet some habits and patterns were difficult to unlearn and if anyone understood that it was Andrew.

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Andrew tells Nicky as he slides out the door, “maybe.”


Neil sits on the couch for hours, waiting for Andrew. He doesn’t trust his body to stay put once he sets it in motion. He isn’t sure how he ended up at the house. Maybe it was the familiar press of the key against his palm, or the way his heart had surged when he saw Columbia on the signs heading south. He had walked for miles from the truck stop to the house. He was exhausted and hungry but felt too unsteady to even raid he fridge. He wanted Andrew. He wanted to know that he could be forgiven, that he could come back, that he hadn’t broken the something that kept the two of them together.

The house is pitch dark and cold when Andrew arrives. Neil sees the headlights through the windows, hears the familiar sound of the car door slamming shut, the quiet rasp of the key unlocking the front door. And he can’t stay still any longer. He’s on his feet, limping and then running, not away but to—straight into Andrew.

Andrew catches him, his strong arms wrapping around Neil, trapping him. Neil doesn’t—can’t—he collapses against Andrew and it’s like the tears won’t fucking stop, even when he coughs, trying to bring himself under control because it’s so pathetic, when did he get so pathetic?

“Neil.” Andrew’s voice is a growl, low and deep, full of emotions that Neil can’t possibly untangle. “Breathe.”

Neil’s arms hang at his sides, hands fisted tight so he won’t touch, won’t grab. He’s trembling, or maybe Andrew is.

“I want to go home,” Neil manages to say. He hates how broken he sounds; he hates the desperation crawling up his throat.

Andrew takes Neil’s hand, presses the key into it, his other hand holding onto the back of Neil’s neck. The faint glow from the automatic porch light illuminates the side of Andrew’s face, showing the hard line of his jaw, the tight set of his mouth and a brief, warm flash in his hazel eyes.

“You are home,” Andrew answers.


It could have been worse. Andrew lies next to Neil on the bed and smokes another cigarette. Neil’s passed out, curled up at his side, looking beat. Andrew taps ash into the ashtray and exhales, watching the smoke drift towards the ceiling. The house has warmed up a bit since he turned on the heat but he still shivers, sweat drying cool on his skin.

It could have been so much worse. Neil could have kept running and Andrew knows that he never would have found him, none of them would, not even Ichirou Moriyama. The name has a bitter tang. Neil told him what Ichirou had said, what he had demanded. Perhaps, at another time, it wouldn’t have bothered Neil as much. But they were nearing the one-year anniversary of Andrew being sent to Easthaven, of Neil going to Evermore, horrible times for both of them. Andrew knows enough about his own triggers to understand where Neil is coming from, to understand how a convergence of circumstances had overwhelmed his rational mind and sent him panicking, running.

It could have been worse. Andrew stubs out the cigarette and burrows under the covers, making sure to leave space between him and Neil. He doesn’t turn off the bedside lamp; he doesn’t take his eyes off the man lying beside him. Neil is still and quiet and Andrew lets that calm wash over him, lets it ease the turmoil that continues to twist him up inside. He came back, he stayed. Andrew pulls the covers over Neil’s shoulders and studies the scars on Neil’s cheek. It could have been worse.

[FYI: inspirational/mood songs for this fic are ZVVL by Chvrches and The Race by Thirty Seconds to Mars]


(gif credit to the creator)

Prompt: “You can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that it’s him.”
Pairing: Jared x Reader
Word Count: 1,259
Warnings: language, drinking
A/N: We all know it’s been impossible for me to write anything other than Misha lately so I forced myself to break out of that and this was born. I figure I need some more Jared/Sam on my master list and I’m trying to rectify that. Hope you guys like it! Anyway, feedback for this is awesome! :)

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Shut up and kiss me - Auston Matthews

A/N: HIIII! This one is a request by my bb @itsall-aboutthat. I’ve enjoyed writing this waaaay too much and I hope you like it. I might start taking requests, who knows…

Word Count: 1130

Warnings: Mild swearing.

Originally posted by calgaryinferno

“What do you want to do today?” Auston asks from behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist on a tight embrace.

“I’ve never been in Toronto before, we should go and explore the city” I answer while pouring more pancake batter on the pan. I’ve probably made a hundred pancakes by now, but the pile wasn’t growing since Auston kept stealing them from the plate and eating them with his fingers.

We have been dating for two years now, but you won’t deny that living so far from each other makes things quite hard sometimes. You trust him and he trusts you, but it is hard not to get jealous when models threw themselves at him all the time and you are an average girl from Michigan. It is the first time that I have gone to Toronto to visit him and I am beyond excited about it.

“Do you really want to go out?” He pouts and I can tell that all he wants is to stay at home and just cuddle and watch movies and be couch potatoes. Not happening “it is cold out and it might rain and…”

“Stop whining, Papi” I scowl him and he frowns; only his mom can call him Papi. “I really want to see the city. Your apartment is nice, but I want to see what Canada has to offer”

He rolls his eyes and I know I have won; we are going out. We get ready, Auston still whining while we walk to his car.

“We can go back, it isn’t too late” he says before getting in the driver’s seat.

“Auston, drive and don’t stop until we are Downtown” I glare at him and he stares at my face, trying to figure out if I’m kidding or not. I am not. He sighs and starts driving.

As soon as we are on the highway he links his hand with mine and rests them on my thigh, eyes on the road. I take my time to study his face while he is focus on the icy road; he is still the same Auston, but I can tell he is more of a man than he was six months ago when he left to Toronto. His jaw is slightly more squared, his hair is longer but better styled, his cheekbones more prominent… and yet again he is still Auston.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” he asks, squishing my hand lightly and I blush. Ugh, busted.

“You are just too handsome” I answer sincerely and he turns his face, gifting me with a smile that makes my knees weak.

“I needed to keep up with my girlfriend or some bastard may try to take her away from me” and I frown.

“Never going to happen”

“I hope so” he looks at my eyes for a second and brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. Ugh, he knows how to make me go insane “we are here”

He parks the car on a private parking lot and we walk out, hand on hand. Toronto is prettier than I expected. It has a New York vibe but much more chilled and I enjoy walking around surrounded by tall buildings.

“Ugh, I think I’m in love” I declare as we sit in a restaurant after walking and shopping for a couple hours. What can I say? I couldn’t hold myself and Auston was there to hold my bags for once.

“I thought you had fell for me long time ago” he raises an eyebrow and I laugh at him.

“With the city, dum-dum” and now he gives me a major side eye “I’ve been in love with you for two years” as I run a finger all over his hand and arm.

“Good to know” he smiles and I do the same. Ugh, we are so cheesy.

We get our food and we eat as we talk, or I talk and he listens, or more like I talk and he is completely zoned out. He has always been on the quiet side of the spectrum, but normally he is a good listener. I frown, but he doesn’t notice it and I decide to just let it go. He pays the tab and I whisper a thank you. Everything was going so well and now we are on an uncomfortable silence, walking around the city.

“Want to go up there?” he asks and I snap out of my thoughts, following his gaze to the CN tower.

I nod, but I don’t say anything as we walk to base of the needle looking building and get inside. It is warm and I let out a content sigh when the warmth hits my face. Auston buys a couple tickets and I give him a dirty look, it is my time to pay, but he just waves it off and puts his hand on the small of my back and pushes me to the elevators. The ride up is suffocating, neither of us talks and the tension between us is palpable, you literally run off as the elevator doors open. And then you see it, the whole city at your feet. The sight is breathtaking and you can’t help it to turn around, looking for Auston so you can share the experience, but he is on front of the elevator, looking at his feet.

“Ok, I’m done with this” You whisper and walk towards him “what the hell is wrong with you? Why are you acting up so weird? What the fuck happ…”

“Move here with me” he blurts out and I stop talking.


“Move here with me. Come live with me. You love the city, you like my friends, you love me…”

“Yes” I say, biting my lower lip.

“You can find a job, or not, I make enough money for bo…Wait, what?”

“I said yes, Auston. I’d love to live with you. I’d love to wake to you each morning. I’d love to make you pancakes every morning” I smile as he wraps his arms around my waist and spins me around.

When he puts me down I grab his hand and walk with him to the glass. The Sun is going down and the sky is tinted with reds, pinks and oranges.

“This is so beautiful” I whisper, leaning against him.

“Not as beautiful as you” he puts his arm around my shoulders and squishes my frame against his much bigger body “hey, I’m so sorry. I was an asshole and…”

“Shh, shut up and kiss me”

And he does, and my knees go weak, and my heart flutters, and I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to get to call him mine.

I Know What You Did Last Summer-Shawn Mendes

Requested: No, but my requests are open if you would like an imagine/smut for any of the fine lads that are listed in my masterlist which is right here: MASTERLIST

Summery: So honestly I got this idea from reading an imagine very similar to the one you’re about to read. I think it was called Air and it has the same kinda storyline as this. So the storyline is that the reader is a song writer that Shawn hires to help him with some songs and she helps him write I Know What You Did Last Summer.

Note: So fun fact this is actually my first non-smut post on this account as well as my first Shawn Mendes post. I’ve written plenty fluff and stuff before but I have that on another account. If you dm me I can tell you my user name and you can check some of my imagines out.

Warnings: none

Word count: 2,365

Originally posted by mednes

Gif not mine

You were a mess. It had been only two weeks since you found your asshole of a boyfriend in bed with one of his coworkers. Since then, you had been immersed in your work, spending countless hours on songs for musicians.

It was your escape, and honestly, Jason cheating on you was one hell of a prompt. Words had been flowing onto paper faster than usual which had been great for business.

Although you were just a teenager, your parents had finally agreed to letting you move across the country to LA while taking online classes. You missed both of your parents immensely, but you loved the freedom that came with living alone.

Just as you had finished your most recent song, a knock came from the door. “Who is it?” you asked, setting your laptop down to go towards the door.

“Um, Shawn Mendes. I think we have an appointment.”

Your eyes widened in realization. “Shit,” you muttered to yourself. He was your first client since your breakup so you apartment wasn’t as clean as it usually is.

As fast as you could, you picked up the clothes that were scattered around the living room and threw them into your bedroom. Just before you reached the front door, you tossed the used tissues away that had been piling on your coffee table.

When you opened your door you were astounded with how young he was. Unlike most of the artists you helped write songs for, he appeared to be your age. “Hi, I’m (Y/n),” you stuck your hand out to shake his which he gladly took.

“Shawn,” he smiled back, releasing your hand a moment later. “I can’t tell you how much I love your work. I’ve heard some of the songs you’ve written for One Direction and you’re just unbelievable.

Slight blush crept its way onto your cheeks. “Thank you, I really appreciate that. I love your work too,” you ushered him into your small apartment. “I’ve seen some of your YouTube videos and you have a great voice.”

He smiled widely at you once again. “Take a seat,” you motioned over to your couch. “So from what I remember from your text was that you wanted a duet? Do you have anyone in mind for the other part?” you asked, sitting in a chair adjacent to the couch.

“Yeah, I was thinking Camila Cabello. We’ve become pretty good friends recently and we talked about it not too long ago.”

You nodded and pulled your laptop onto your lap again. “I was actually almost finished writing up something. It’s about a guy and a girl and one of them cheated on the other briefly during the summer. I didn’t finish it up completely yet because I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be the good guy in the song or not.”

His eyebrow quirked up, “The good guy?”

“The person who was faithful.”

“Oh,” he nodded in understanding, “sure.”

Pulling up the tab of the song, you quickly changed pronouns before setting the computer in front of him to see.

After scanning the screen he looked up at you and smiled. “I really like it. How long did it take for you to write this?”

You scratched the back of your neck before glancing to see his facial reaction of the song. “Um, about an hour. Songs have been really coming easily to me lately,” you shrugged, standing up to get one of your guitars that lie in your living room.

“Any particular reason?”

“Let’s just say this song is very close to home,” you sighed, sitting back down with your guitar perched on your lap.

He set the laptop on the coffee table and faced you, “I’m really sorry. I probably shouldn’t have brought it up.”

You shook your head, “No, it’s fine. You wouldn’t have known. Anyways, so this is what I was thinking the song would sound like.”

Ever since Shawn walked through your door asking for help with his song, you two were practically inseparable. Not only was he your age which was a rarity in your business, he was also the most down to earth artist you had met. 

After the two of you had finished the song, he pestered you about having an amazing voice claiming that you’d be a great singer but you told him of your stage fright. After that, the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon getting to know each other.

You would be lying if you said he wasn’t even the slightest bit attractive, but whenever you were around him you felt as if you had to push the feelings you had for him away. Not only did he have a massive group of fans that would harass you on any social media account you owned, you just couldn’t handle having a relationship that was forever in the public eye.

It was the day that he and Camila were to sing I Know What You Did Last Summer for the first time live after releasing it as a single. It had done significantly better than you had expected which made Shawn declare he was going to take you out to breakfast sometime throughout the following week.

Today was that day and you could practically feel buzzing throughout your entire body. You had chosen an outfit that made you look like you cared, but didn’t try as hard as you actually did. Just as you had finished tying your shoelace, a knock came from the door before it opened abruptly.

Shawn came waltzing in with a smile on his face making you think back to when you first met him. “You didn’t even wait for me to say come in,” you gasped dramatically. “I could have been completely naked.”

A slight blush graced his cheeks, “Then it would’ve been one hell of a morning for me.”

You rolled you eyes and slapped his arm. “Shut up. Let me just grab my wallet and we can leave.”

He let out a laugh, “Okay.”

The walk to the diner was pleasant. It was only a fifteen minute walk from your apartment so you and Shawn held a conversation the whole way there. It mostly consisted of him talking about about how anxious he was for his first performance tonight of his new single. 

You reassured him multiple times but you knew your words just went in one ear and out the other. Instead of constantly assuring him that everything was going to be fine, you decided to just link your arm with his and rest your head on his shoulder while you walked. That always seemed to lessen his anxiety for reasons unknown to you.

“What are you thinking of eating?” he asked after his small rant.

You pondered his question for longer than necessary before lifting you head off of his shoulder. “Pancakes, of course.”

He laughed. “I’m not even surprised. You know, life is a little more fun when you switch things up a little. Maybe try crepes or, may I even suggest, waffles?” he gasped.

A loud laugh escaped your lips before you shook your head. “That’s what I thought,” he rolled his eyes.

It wasn’t long until you ended up at the familiar diner. Your eyes practically rolled to the back of your head at the smell of the sugary breakfasts.

The two of you ordered as soon as you sat down, not even having to glance at the menus. While you waited for your food, the two of you both pulled out your phones and scanned through your separate social media accounts.

Your eyebrows quirked up when you spotted a picture of the two of you together that was taken only a few moments ago from outside. “How do they do that?” you voiced your thoughts.

“How does who do what?” Shawn asked, setting his phone off to the side.

“The paparazzi. They took pictures of us outside and of course the captions all mention us dating,” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. 

You wished the two of you were dating. Everything just seemed to click between the two of you and after the couple of months you’ve spent together, you still enjoy learning new things about him.

He inspected the photo before his cheeks turned red almost immediately, as if he had just thought of something ridiculous. “Speaking of that, I was wondering,” he began. 

Your heart hammered in your chest as you anticipated his next words. Although, before he could finish, the waiter arrived with your food. With widened eyes, you stared down at your stack of pancakes, deciding how you would try and eat all of it. Shawn laughed at your over-excitement.

As quickly as you could, you scarfed down your meal, only being able to finish half of it due to its immense size. 

A sigh left your lips as you sat back in your chair. “I’m happy now.”

Shawn’s lips stretched into a large smile. Over the past couple of months, he had admittedly fallen hard for you. Everything that you seemed to do made his heart swell with happiness. Whether it was yelling at horrible drivers who cut you off to the look of accomplishment on your face when you make a recipe correctly while making dinner he couldn’t help but fall for the girl he yearned to see everyday.

“What were you saying?” you asked, leaning back in your chair, waiting for him to finish his meal.

He placed down his fork and straightened himself in his chair briefly. “I’ve been thinking lately.”

Your eyebrows raised in anticipation. “Yeah?”

But alas, before another word could leave his lips, a multitude of voices arose from behind him. “Can we get a picture with you?”

Shawn’s smile faltered ever so slightly at being interrupted again but he complied and held a conversation with the girls nonetheless. That was another thing you admired about him. No matter what situation he found himself in, he always made time for his fans.

As the two of you walked out you tilted your head up towards him. “Care to finish your thought?”

He shrugged before scratching the back of his neck, “No, I forgot what I was going to say anyways.”

Your eyebrow raised in suspicion but you let it be. He was nervous enough for the concert tonight and talking about something he didn’t want to be talked about was not something he needed.

He was shaking with nerves. “Where is she?” he almost shouted.

You shrugged and glanced down at your phone for what felt like the thousandth time. “I don’t know. I’ve called her like, fifteen times. She’s not responding to any of my texts either.”

Shawn threw his head back and fumbled with the microphone in his hand. It was minutes before he was supposed to go on stage with Camila but she was no where to be found

Suddenly the three dots appeared under your’s and Camila’s texting conversation. “Shawn!” you shouted and waved him over. “She’s texting me.”

His eyes widened as he moved next to you, breath heavy against the skin on your shoulder. You held your breath until the dots were replaced with a message.

So sorry! I guess my manager didn’t pass on the message. When I was visiting my cousin he gave me a really bad virus. I’ve been throwing up all day. Give my luck to Shawn! <3

You lanced over to see Shawn squeezing his eyes shut. You couldn’t read the emotion that was present on his face which scared you. Gently placing your hands on his shoulders, you squeezed his shoulders. “Hey, Shawn. It’s okay. You’re going to be fine.”

“You have to go on with me.”

A laugh burst from your lips as you smiled up at him. “Now’s not the time for jokes, Shawn.”

He opened his eyes and quickly grabbed your hands that were on his shoulders. “I’m not kidding.” You opened your mouth to respond but he interrupted you. “Please. This is so important to me. I know you have horrible stage fright, but I’ll do anything. Your voice is amazing and you know the song by heart.”

You sighed heavily and swallowed the lump in your throat. “Shawn…” 

“Please,” he whispered.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you nodded slowly, nerves now setting in. “Oh my god thank you so much!” he yelled, wrapping his arms around you.

Your chest constricted as Shawn’s manager called the two of you to go on stage. To ebb away your nerves, Shawn gripped your hand tightly and lead you onto the stage. “Just look at me,” he whispered before squeezing your hand.

You did as he said and focused your attention on him as the beginning chords of the song were played. Shawn had to release your hand to plat guitar but you stayed close to him throughout the song.

Cheering could be heard throughout the entire stadium which gave you a bit more confidence. Just as you were going into the first chorus, Shawn finally glanced up at you from his guitar and gave you a large smile.

To your surprise, the song was over seemingly within seconds. You broke eye contact with Shawn to glance around at the crowd after your performance and your jaw dropped. From just where you were standing, you could see at least a couple thousand people.

“Oh my god that was exhilarating!” you yelled at Shawn who had just gotten off stage. He was drenched in sweat and his eyes were filled with excitement. He didn’t say anything, to your confusion as he strode over to you, taking larger steps than usual.

“Shawn?” you asked as he was only a couple feet from you.

He didn’t hesitate once as he placed his hands on your cheeks and brought your lips to his in a matter of seconds. You were startled for a moment, not quite sure what to do before you fully relaxed under his touch and moved your lips against his. 

The kiss was brief, but when he pulled away you both panted for air. “I’ve been meaning to do that for a while.”

Internalizing Shadow Work

Shadow work is a daunting process to say the least. Working up the gall to pursue this type of spiritual work is no easy feat. It’s a little like opening Pandora’s box– once you start, there’s no going back. This can often lead to an overwhelming feeling of dismay in early stages of progress, I can tell you that firsthand. 

Truly, the easier part of shadow work is unearthing that which has been claimed by the subconscious. As harrowing as that process may be in itself, I’ve found that it is assimilating what has been learned that is the true challenge. Regardless of how much you know doing so would improve your life, it can be challenging to actually apply your revelations to everyday life– but it’s also the only way shadow work generates viable results. 

In the midst of your practice, you may [have] come to a point where you think, “Okay, so I have become aware of this aspect of myself and how/why it has materialized in this way. But now, what do I do with this information– how do I apply it to my life?

Don’t get me wrong, I am no expert. I still have sooo much work to do in this arena; it can be disheartening to be frank. Sometimes I question whether my efforts have spawned any benefits at all, because I feel like all I’ve done is stirred up a slough of silt. But there is a persistent voice, somewhere within the throes of my mildly nauseating, self-induced turmoil, that keeps uttering sweet reassuring sentiments all the while. 

And this is that voice, encouraging myself and others not to give up, to continue relentlessly persevering…

Remember, you are perfect just as you are– or let’s say perfectly imperfect, to be more precise. 

You don’t always have to be so hard on yourself. You don’t have to rush. You don’t have to transform overnight to find a fulfilling sense of self-improvement. As paradoxical as it may seem, total acceptance is a huge part of shadow work. You must reach acceptance before you can move forward. 

So here I’d like to share a few quick tips to help internalize what has been revealed through your shadow workings, because I know I can’t be the only one who experiences difficulty doing so. 

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