excuse me while i go violently sob all over the place

Stay Away | Zach Dempsey x Reader (ft. Monty Dela Cruz)

Genre: Angst, Romance
POV: Reader’s/First Person
Warning: Containg swearing, violence and sexual harrasment!!

A/N: This was personally hard for me to write, but it was requested. It’s a bit heavy and it’s not the usual fluffy write-up you guys often get from me. Nonetheless, I will be posting a new fluff piece tomorrow, so stay tuned! Meanwhile, I hope you guys like this for now.

Request: Hai, I was wondering if you could do an imagine where Zach and his girlfriend (the reader) are hanging out and he despite her trying to hide them he sees a bunch of bruises on her and gets really worried and mad asking her what happened only for her to tell him that Montgomery had beat her up in a drunken state because she refused to sleep with him. This causes Zach to get mad and go beat him up and threatening him to never go near the reader again.

—–

Zach and I were watching TV when he suddenly said he was hungry. I pout at him and sigh as a response as I got up from the sofa and make my way to the kitchen to quickly cook something up. Zach was feeling a bit hungover after yesterday and he loved being treated like a baby whenever he was sick. I took out 2 bowls of instant ramen to satisfy his hunger.

I held onto the sleeves of my sweater while leaning on the kitchen counter as I waited for the water to boil. The incident from Jessica’s party last night replayed in my mind once again. Zach would flip if he knew and I didn’t want to ruin Zach and Monty’s friendship. Besides, Monty was just drunk, I think to myself, he was just intoxicated and didn’t know what he was doing. But it still wasn’t an excuse, I continue to think. The incident scared me, Monty, scared me.

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for you pt. 1

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Badboy Taehyung, angst, implied smut

Word Count: 4.4k

Originally posted by vminv

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

You knew better than to fall for someone like him. If he looked like trouble, then he probably was trouble. But you were never one to listen. There was something about him that drew you in. Maybe it was his voice. It was thick like honey and rolled off his tongue like the breeze on a hot summer day. Or maybe it was the rare moments where he let his guard down and flashed you that boxy smile that reminded you that underneath that tough exterior, there was a softness.

You remembered the first time you saw him. You were with your friends sitting outside of the only decent coffee shop on campus. Summer break was looming. The only thing holding you back between a summer without papers and deadlines were exams. And you had a lot of them. The only reason you had even left the library was because you were ambushed. Pairs of hands grabbing you and your things and dragging you out of the frozen solitude that was the library.

But they had their reasons. Momo had just caught the man she swore she thought she would marry (the 4th man she has ever felt this way about) cheating on her. They had been together for almost 6 months, but her’s wasn’t the only bed he was keeping warm. She was in hysterics by the time the barista had finished making your quad soy latte.

“I don’t understand how he could do this to me!” she shrieked between sobs. Her body was shaking violently. Your other best friends, Sana and Mina, were trying to console her. Mina was rubbing circles around her back while Sana was trying to convince Momo that if he was the one than he wouldn’t have done this in the first place.

“What happened this time?” you asked. You didn’t bother to try to hide the disinterest in your voice. You knew Momo and you knew how fast she bounced back. It might have seemed like the end of the world now, but the girl had a rubber heart. She would be back in the ring in no time.

“He cheated! That’s what happened!” her voice cracked as she spoke. “He told me he was going to spend all night in the library. But Mina and I went out last night and he was there. He was kissing some gir-” her words broke into sobs. Sana wrapped her arms around her and pulled Momo into a tight hug.

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Lost Track of Time

|| Pt. 1 || Pt. 2 || Pt. 3

Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: You were mad, but he was out of patience 

Word Count: 1526

Warning: eh, not really a warning…that is unless you hate the F-bomb and other kinds of curse words.

Originally posted by shishikookie

You were fuming. Here you were, dressed in a stunning gown that you knew he would love and holding a boxed Rolex that you were going to gift him. You had waited for him in the fancy 5-star restaurant where you had gotten a reservation, a reservation that took you at least eight months worth of pay to save up for. But here you were, back in your shared apartment at 1 am in the morning waiting for your boyfriend of two years to come home. Yes, he had stood you up.

You would have understood if he had called you or messaged you. Hell, you would have understood if he sent a freaking messenger pigeon to send you a letter telling you why he couldn’t make it. But guess what you didn’t receive? Any sort of indication from Jungkook on where he was or why he didn’t come. 

On the couch you fiddled around with your phone tossing it up and catching it over and over again, waiting for a phone call or text message from him. Instead of the blaring sound of your ringtone or a notification indicating a message, you heard something else: the opening of the front door. He was home. 

Jungkook crept in and quietly removed his shoes since he thought that you would be most likely to be asleep by now. That’s why he was so surprised to find you awake in the middle of the night sitting on the couch wearing a long gown. 

“Oh, jagi. I thought you were asleep.” You shook your head and scoffed in disbelief.

“Don’t tell me that you don’t know why I’m awake right now, Jeon Jungkook.” He shifted when he heard you refer to him by his full name. You never used his full name unless you were angry. 

If he wasn’t so tired he would have asked you what was wrong. If he wasn’t so tired he would be doing his aegyo to cheer you up. If he wasn’t so tired he wouldn’t be picking a fight with you. 

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We Don’t Talk Anymore | 2

Originally posted by jungkookfortunekookies

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader 

Word Count: 2.419

A/N: well I actually did finish it tonight, what a surprise! I don’t know what to think of this tbh meh, let me know your thoughts :)

also I did not proof read again, so there’s a high possibility that my tired brain did make some horrible mistakes in this and I already want to apologize for that

 WDTA 1


Her dress was hugging every single one of her curves like his hands used to do. Gently caressing her soft skin, like he used to do. The light illuminating her skin softly, giving it a golden glow, making her eyes sprinkle while her smile seemed to be able to cure illnesses. Her hair slowly swaying from side to side while she laughed at Hoseok’s jokes, placing one of her perfectly small hands on his shoulder for support, the way she used to do it to him.

Jungkook couldn’t tear his gaze from your figure, no matter how hard he tried. You looked like an angel descended from heaven. Nothing compared to you. He had bought you that dress as a Valentine’s gift, knowing that it wouldn’t stay long on your body while he was around and therefor giving himself a nice present as well. Seeing you was already hard enough but this whole situation made it ten times worse. What was he saying, a million times worse and more.

Memories of that exact night came flooding back into his mind, heart aching and tears filling up his eyes, about to spill. 

“You look really beautiful tonight (Y/N)”, he complimented you, looking for the same pain in your eyes that he was feeling.

“You really do (Y/N)! I really love your dress, where did you get it from?”, his girlfriend asked you. Her voice made Jungkook’s insides twist in regret, realizing how painful it might have been for you to sit right across from them.

Instead he saw you smiling back at her. “Thank you! Sadly, I don’t remember where I got this from… I think it might have been a gift or something”, you smiled apologetically and she shrugged before turning her attention back to Taehyung who was sitting on her other side. 

Nobody else seemed to notice that your hands were slightly shaking while brushing down your dress and when you spoke; you seemed to be a little out of breath, as if your nerves were taking up all your energy. 

Nobody, except for Jungkook. 

He noticed every small detail. He knew you like the back of his hand and seeing you like this, trying to hide your feelings, trying to stay strong while your eyes were already turning watery, he wanted to do nothing more than to hold you in his arms and tell you that everything’s going to be fine. 

That he would be there for you. Kissing those tears away while rubbing small circles into your skin, telling you how beautiful you were. He’d promise you as many times before that he would never leave you.

Wasn’t it ironical that he wanted to comfort you and tell you these things when he already did leave you? He already broke your heart, he was the reason behind those tears and he knew. Because he was feeling the same.

A tear silently rolled down his cheek before he could stop it and his hand was quick to wipe it off.


“Who is she Jungkook?”, your voice cut slices into his skin. Never had he seen you this angry.

“She’s just a friend from uni (Y/N), relax”, he tried to play it down, letting himself fall onto your couch and grabbing the remote to turn on the Sports News.

As he leaned back, you ripped the remote out of his hands, throwing it against the wall, making him flinch at the sound.

“Who. Is. She?”, one of your hands was holding onto your phone for dear life while the other one was being clenched into a fist, slowly turning white. Jungkook saw the anger burning inside of you and even though you were fuming, he still thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. His breath got caught in his throat as he looked up at you, getting lost in your eyes before your voice broke him out of his trance.

He shook his head a little and stood up, walking past you and rolling his eyes. “I told, she’s just a friend, no need to get jealous babe.”

“Don’t fucking ‘babe’ me Jungkook! What is this huh?”, you stopped him on his shirt, making him face your phone. There was a picture of two figures, one being held up against a wall by the other, while their tongues swirled around each other. His hands on her butt, her hands in his hair. Even though he recognized that scene on the screen, he shook his head again and shrugged. “Looks like some nasty college kids making out in the backyard of some house, how the hell am I supposed to know?”

He tried to free himself from your grip but you were holding his shirt so tight, he was scared it might rip if he broke apart violently. So instead, Jungkook stayed in place, eyes looking anywhere but at your face, heart beating painfully in his chest and blood pulsing in his ears.

“Look at me”, you whispered, voice already shaking as you knew him too well. Jungkook knew that you had figured out he was lying. Yet, he tried his best to seem convincing. He really didn’t want to hurt you. His love for you was stronger than anything he had ever felt. He didn’t want to cause you pain. Not for any costs.

Your finger softly turned his face to yours and he looked at your broken expression. “Look me in the eye and tell me this isn’t you making out with another girl. Look me in the eye and promise me that you didn’t do anything with her while you were at the exact same party yesterday.”

His gaze locked with yours and all his insides dropped. He wanted to lie. He wanted to tell you that he’d never do something like that to you, that you were his one and only. That all he ever had in mind was you and only you. Which was true. But in that one second, he allowed someone else into his mind and it all escalated. Escalated so bad, he’d never thought was possible.

“I-”, he started but his voice broke and he had to restart. Your big, dull eyes, filled with tears, hands shaking and clinging onto him as if her life depended on him, made lying so hard. His heart and mind battling each other between telling her the truth and hoping for the best, just kissing her and holding her, comforting her. Making her believe that he was the one she was looking for. the one that would never hurt her, never do something like that to her. 

“I- that’s-”, he stuttered and your eyes closed in resignation, small tears escaping your eyes and rolling down your cheeks. His hand automatically shot up to wipe them away but it got slapped away by your own as you turned around, facing away from him. “I swear, I didn’t mean to (Y/N). I- I could never hurt you like this!”

Jungkook noticed how desperate he sounded, how dumb and idiotic. But it was the truth. He never wanted this to happen. Never in a million years.

“Don’t pull that shit on me Jungkook! Don’t you dare pull that ‘I didn’t mean to’ crap!”, your voice had turned into screams, streams of tears covering your yet so beautiful voice, shattering Jungkook’s heart into tiny pieces. He reached out for you but you stepped back, giving his heart another crack.

“(Y/N)…”, he whispered but you cut him off. 

“Pack your stuff. Now. And get out of my apartment. I don’t want to see you ever again, you understand that? Never again!”


Your screams and sobs still echoed through his head. The same way your laugh and giggles wouldn’t leave his mind. Every beautiful and every painful sound that ever left your mouth was burned into his memory. Every moment he had spent with you, every smile, every playful smack, every hug, every touch. Every stupid joke. Every silly comment. 

Everything.

There wasn’t a night where he didn’t miss your touch, your smell, your soft hums. He had gotten used to your body laying beside his at night that he barely slept now. He missed you like lungs missed the air. He missed you like fish missed the water. He missed you like the birds missed the sky. He missed you like the sun missed the moon. It was unbearable and yet he was the one who caused it.  

Now you were standing beside him, applauding to one of the manager’s speeches while waiting for this dinner to be over. Jimin was standing on your other side, making Jungkook fume with anger and jealousy. He was supposed to be the one being there for you. He was supposed to be the one being to hold you whenever, kiss you whenever and erupt into little giggles with you together. 

As everybody started heading back to their seats, Jungkook took the opportunity and stopped you by gently grabbing your wrist. Electricity ran through both of your bodies, your eyes widening in disbelief as Jungkook smiled slightly. 

He turned to Jimin. “Hey man, can I borrow her for a minute?”, Jungkook knew that if he asked Jimin, his hyung would say yes and you wouldn’t have an excuse to say no to him.

As predicted, Jimin smiled and nodded before heading back to his seat, leaving the two of you alone. You looked lost and Jungkook’s instincts to protect you from anything bad became more prominent. He swallowed hard, reminding himself that it wasn’t in his rights to feel like this any longer.

“Let’s go somewhere more quiet, I need to talk to you”, he said before turning into the direction of the balcony, looking back once to make sure you were following him.

Stepping outside, he held the door open for you and a mild breeze hit your naked skin, making goosebumps appear. Jungkook noticed that you were feeling uncomfortable in his presence and he lowered his head in sadness. If anyone would have told him a year beforehand that you two would end like this - not that anyone knew about the two of you to be able to tell him - he would have laughed at him and declared him for mad. 

“So, what did you want to talk about?”, you asked casually, avoiding his gaze and looking up at the stars instead. He smiled a little at your behavior, knowing that you were only doing that because you were too nervous (and hurt) to face him directly. 

“I’m sorry”, Jungkook apologized suddenly, making your head snap at him, eyes wide in surprise. Quickly, you caught yourself and looked back into the restaurant, making sure that nobody was looking for the two of you.

“For what?”, you raised one eyebrow at him, questioning his apology. Anyone could apologize but not everybody knew what they were apologizing for.

“For promising you that I would be the man that you needed. For promising you that I’d never ever hurt you. For promising that I would never leave you, no matter how hard times would get. For promising you a future together. For promising everything we both wanted and needed and yet standing here, having broken every single one of those promises”, a lump started to rise in Jungkook’s throat so he quickly swallowed and continued.

“I’m sorry for glorifying your simple being, loving everything you do or didn’t do. For falling so hard for you that everything else just didn’t matter anymore. For making you fall so hard for me that you were blind to anything that didn’t involve me. For causing you so much pain that breathing alone was one of the hardest tasks you had to go through in your entire life. I’m sorry for every single tear you shed because of me, every single scream you led out because of me. For every broken vase, every deleted picture and every deleted song. I’m sorry for every time you had to run to the bathroom in the middle of the night, throwing up into the toilet because you thought that this pain was about to eat you out alive, burning you from the inside and taking all the air from your lungs.”

Your eyes had started to well up with tears, bottom lip stuck between your teeth, trying to hold your composure. When Jungkook looked at you, you breathed out, shaking your head.

“How do you know all this?”, your voice was barely whisper but Jungkook would have heard you anywhere.

“Because I felt the same.”

“Why now?”, you choked out before tears wet your puffy face.

“Because I see you with him (Y/N). I see how you’re trying to forget about me, about us. I see how every time he touches you, you flinch but act as if nothing happened. I see how when you open up, you cling onto him as if you were scared he might leave you as well. I see the dark circles around your eyes, no matter how hard you try to cover them up. You don’t sleep at night because you can’t let his warmth lull you in like mine did. You can’t move on even though I know you want to”, Jungkook’s voice started shaking at the thought of what’s going to come. He closed his eyes, ignoring the stinging feeling in his chest and the burning in his lungs that were telling him that this was not right. 

“That’s why I’m telling you this”, he breathed out, looking at you sincerely. “So you can find closure and move on. Be happy with him. Let him love you like I did and love him like you loved me. He’s the one you need, the one you want. He will be your happiness.”

“Jungkook…”, you choked out in between tears but he shook his head and smiled at you, tears now also streaming down his face. 

“Shh it’s okay. You deserve him”, was all he could muster to say before reaching out for the door handle, ready to go back inside.

“What about you?”, you asked heartbroken, grabbing his arm and holding onto it.

“I’ll be fine”, was all he said, before placing a soft kiss onto your forehead, lips lingering on your skin a little bit longer before opening the door and going back to the table as if nothing had happened.

Because for him, nothing would change. 

Except for seeing you being finally happy with his best friend.

©jiminelli

Love Yourself

WARNING - self doubt , assholes degrading the reader . 

Request - Thank you so much @melconnor2007 for the request . I hope you like it . 

Hi I was wondering if you could do a one shot requests on Bucky, something along the lines the reader and Bucky have been dating for ages, but she’s struggling with being happy about the way she looks, when she over hears some other agents or people talking about how good looking Bucky is and how muscles he is, then they start saying how the reader isn’t pretty enough to be dating Bucky, and she gets upset locking herself in her room, and Bucky breaks in and is reassuring telling her how pretty she is and how much he loves her and it’s really fluffy if that makes any sense please 

A/N- This wasn’t easy to write . For the first time , I started with a blank page thrice . Tbh , there was a time I felt like this but I no more do . I don’t give shit about people think about the way I look . I like myself and that is all that matters . I don’t like people who choose to like or not like me over superficial things like appearances . So I am open to anyone who wants to speak with me . I want you to make yourself feel better . And one day I hope you realise that you are  beautiful . I LOVE YOU 

Originally posted by lilpieceofmyworld

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Summary: Kylo has returned to the light side and Leia has tasked you with teaching Kylo how to be good again

A/N: Will I ever take fics seriously? No. Will I ever stop stealing dialogue? Also no. Anyway this will never be canon and I am upset.

“My son has returned to me and I want to do all that is possible to keep him from returning to the dark side.” Leia said.

“…..and we come into this how?”

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I’m going to go with injury for this one! And a hint of Klance because I have no chill. 

When Keith stumbled during training, his ankle twisted awkwardly, and he fell to the ground with a sharp hiss.

He desperately called out for an end to the simulation he was fighting just before the robot swung a blade down on him.

The slightest jostle of his ankle left him wincing, but soon enough, he was positioned with his legs stretched out in front of him. He carefully tugged his pant leg up, and he could see the swelling and feel the heat without even removing his shoe. 

“Fuck,” he spit out, hands hovering above the obvious sprain, but when he heard footsteps echoing from the hall, he swallowed down the nausea stemmed from the pain and struggled to his feet just as Lance and Shiro walked in.

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Back Again (Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader)

Originally posted by linmnuelmrnda

Pairing: Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader 

(collab with @angerybisexual )

Requested?: ‘You should totally do “I still love you, even after all that’s happened.” With Lin. Have fun with it lmao’

Prompt: Lin broke the reader’s heart and she struggles with the breakup but then Lin waltzes back into her life.

Words: 4700+

Warnings: Angst, Heartbreak, Mention’s of Family Death, and Swearing

Masterlist / Angery’s Masterlist

~~~

Why were you still hellbent on that guy?

It has been a year since you got your heartbroken by the man whom you thought was your soulmate. Ever since he walked out of that front door, you were a mess.  You still lived in the same apartment. You still slept in the same bed you two once shared. You still had his number in that phone he bought you for your birthday. You still had everything that you should have gotten rid of long ago. Why do you still have them?

To be honest, you were in denial.  

Lin-Manuel Miranda was perfect.  

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When I met you in the summer -Part 2

Summary: Working as a bartender in a five star hotel while a rich and famous family is staying over for a month, and one of their sons, Bucky, happens to have an eye for you, is a dream right? Right? Wrong!

Chapter 2: Power

Fandom: Marvel

Y/N: your name

Warnings: heavy mentions of rape, cursing.

Part 1

A/N: Thank you so much everyone for all your support!! You are seriously the best followers and people ever!!! I really hope you enjoy this series, and please let me know what you think!

Originally posted by b-n-a-o

Previously:

I clean up the bar for the thousand time and look around me. The morning shift will soon be over and I will be free to go anywhere I want for two hours. I really can’t wait. Scott has closed the pool for anyone but our special family, so it’s been the longest and most boring morning of my life. In ten minutes I’ll be free. Most of my coworkers have already started to pack, so I put the cocktail mixer on its place and check all the alcoholic drinks to leave as soon as possible. Soon I’ll be free…

“Y/N…” I raise my head and see Scott on the door.

“Any problem?”

“Kind of yeah… For you.”

“They didn’t like my cocktail?”

“They did. It’s just… Bucky wants you to stay during lunch break and give him a massage.”

Are you kidding me?


Y/N’s POV:

Yeah… in case you haven’t realized yet, there’s no way I’m giving Mr I-think-I-can-have-it-all a massage. My contract didn’t mention me having to give massages to spoiled rich kids. I would have told that to Scott if he wasn’t looking so serious, but I have no problem telling Barnes to fuck off… of breaking a vodka bottle on his face, for that matter.

I busy myself sorting out alcoholic drinks and pretending I don’t see Scott’s disapproving face until, for the second time today, a very unwanted voice forces me out of my task.

“So, where is my massage?” Bucky says, a smug smile on his face I see reflected on the cocktail maker.

I don’t even bother to turn around, I’m not going to put up with him. “Oh! I think I saw it a while ago. It was heading to fuck-you island. Would you like to follow?”

“Yes.” he replies with a dirty tone.

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i spy a cheater

Request Prompt; Can you write a Shawn imagine where he’s been distant lately and sleeping at his friend’s house more often so when you confront him, you find out that he cheated and was too scared to tell you? So you’re about to leave him but he’s sobbing and you can tell he’s sorry so you decide to stay?

Warning; very slight use of some foul language

MASTERLIST || REQUEST


You and Shawn were definitely an inseparable couple. The two of you guys came in a pair, and it only made your relationship with the rising artist even stronger. Just as well as the two of you guys worked together, your trust levels were through the roof.

Although it was a bit weird at first, you learned to accept that Shawn’s career would always have him surrounded by girls that were practically in love with him. Even at the beginning of the relationship, Shawn assured you that the only girl he wanted was you. This of course made you more comfortable in the relationship and ultimately helped you through your now seven month relationship with Shawn.

Shawn was beginning to write his newest album, which required him to stay later at the studio than usual. This was nothing new to you, but you started worrying after he stopped answering your texts. You sent an occasional text every other hour to check up on him, but it was as if you were texting a wall. It had been like this for the past few weeks – Shawn wouldn’t answer your texts, he’d come home late, and by the time you’d wake up, he’d already be off at the studio.

When you got the chance to ask him, he gave you the quick excuse that he was sleeping at his friends house every other night since it was closer to the studio. Of course you bought it, but it was often a thought that bothered you.

The thought of him cheating on you never occurred because he’s never given you a reason to think that he would stab you in the back like that. He gave the relationship as much time as his job would allow him, and you didn’t complain. He knew how to treat a girl well, and he never had trouble making you feel like the luckiest girl out there.

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4. Panic

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Genre: Angst, smut

Word Count: 2653

Warnings: Non-con aka rape, dubcon, trauma, homophobic language

Thumbnail made by @1vyprincess 


Jungkook sat quietly across the table from Namjoon, eyes nervously shifting around the room.

“You’re so tense,” Namjoon commented nonchalantly, pouring a drink smoothly into a crystal glass. Jungkook remained silent as Namjoon approached him with the glass. “Drink this.”

Jungkook stared up at him in refusal. He didn’t know what he was being offered, and quite frankly, didn’t want to figure it out.

“It’ll help you relax.”

Jungkook looked down into his lap and shook his head. “I’m ok,” he mumbled.

“Here, look. I’ll drink some too if it makes you feel better.” Jungkook skeptically watched Namjoon swallow down a gulp before the glass was handed to him again.

“See?”

Jungkook was wavering.

“Drink.” The command in Namjoon’s voice sent a shiver up Jungkook’s spine, and he finally obeyed, taking a quick sip before setting the glass back on the table. The tangy sweetness on his tongue and the sparkly kick as it made its way down his throat surprised him. It was pleasant, but he wouldn’t dare admit it.

“All of it.”

Jungkook hesitated before nervously downing the rest. Within seconds, he felt a subtle warmth envelop his chest, slowly spreading to the tips of his fingers. Namjoon nodded in approval and took the glass with him as he returned to his seat across the table. “Did you quit your job?”

“Well yes. Kinda? Not n-not really, no.”

“Elaborate.”

“I just told my boss that I would be working irregular hours…”

“That’s fine, I suppose…You mentioned that you were a virgin last time.”

Jungkook flushed at his direct and blunt transition, staying silent in his embarrassment. His stomach tingled at his words, and he shifted in his seat, beginning to feel uncomfortable.

“So we will need an hour each night for a few weeks before you can take it for longer.” Namjoon stood up with the bottle and glass in hand and disappeared around a corner to clean up, leaving Jungkook to his thoughts for a moment.

Jungkook stared at his reflection in the mirrored table. He could tell he was blushing, even in the dim light of the room. Why was he blushing? He rubbed his cheeks, trying to rid himself of the heat accumulating in his face. His hands ran along the back of his neck, and he was startled by how sensitive he was all of a sudden. His skin was crawling and he wanted it to stop. He crossed his arms and tried to focus on calming his breathing, desperately attempting to ignore his heart pounding in his ears. When was Namjoon going to come back? He was taking forever. Jungkook felt hot everywhere, and the warm buzz was beginning to intensify.

“Fuck,” he groaned under his breath when he pressed his thighs together in an attempt to relieve tension, which only made it worse. Waves of heat shot through his body, and it took every ounce of control to fight the urge to grind back into his chair.

What the fuck is happening to me?

“With your projected schedule, I’ll have you picked up two hours earlier than the usual end of your work shift.” Namjoon finally reentered the room, seamlessly continuing what he was saying before, but the only thing Jungkook could find himself focusing on now was how low the V in Namjoon’s black silk shirt was plunging.

“Feeling ok?” Namjoon approached him and placed the back of his hand on Jungkook’s forehead. Jungkook whimpered at the contact, following Namjoon’s touch. “I-It’s so hot right now, I don’t know what’s g-going on, I-”

“Shh, you’ll be fine. Just relax, Jungkook.” Namjoon encouraged and slid a hand slowly down Jungkook’s chest. Jungkook stifled a moan as sparks shot across his skin in reaction to the touch. “W-what, what did you make me drink?”

“It’s just going to make things easier for the both of us.”

“What’s that s-supposed to mean?”

“It’ll just make your first time more pleasurable than without it. I’m trying to help you-”

Jungkook smacked Namjoon’s hand away in panic and tried to bolt to the door, but Namjoon was quick and pulled hard on the back of Jungkook’s shirt, yanking him into his chest. Jungkook choked for a moment and desperately tried to ignore memories he worked so hard to repress. Namjoon caged him in from behind, one arm wrapped around his waist while he slid his fingers around Jungkook’s throat, pushing his chin up. Jungkook gasped when he felt Namjoon’s lips press against his skin, and he shivered at the contact. “N-no…” he pleaded.

“You signed your consent.”

“I-I know, b-but-” he keened when Namjoon brushed over his chest, lightly pinching a nipple.

“Fuck, you’re sensitive here,” Namjoon remarked as he continued to play with his discovery, sounding pleased with himself. He let out an amused chuckle as Jungkook writhed at his touch and tried to pull his hands away. Namjoon noted that the mild aphrodisiac he had Jungkook drink was intensifying the stimulus that he was receiving, but it was only just enough to make him feel hot and a little needy. Namjoon was certain that he had found a loaded jackpot full of potential and tucked the information away for later use. But as of now, he had a somewhat sadistic urge to make his pretty boy cry from the stimulation and began roughly teasing both nipples simultaneously. Jungkook’s entire body jerked and he sank to his knees with a loud whine. Namjoon couldn’t believe how sexy this boy could be, and he wasn’t even experienced yet. “Fuck, Jungkook. I was going to bring you to the bed, but I’m beyond tempted to just take you right here.”

Jungkook shuddered, panting, trying to catch his breath. This was too much. His mind was plagued with sinister anxiety, but his body was swimming in heady lust. He vaguely noticed Namjoon’s retreating footsteps before surrendering to the urge to touch himself. He hated how aroused he was, how relieved he was to begin stroking himself through his pants, how it amplified his desire for more. He hated everything, he hated Namjoon, and he hated himself.

Namjoon quietly returned with a bottle of lube and smirked at the sight of Jungkook bent over with his ass in the air, palming himself slowly, as if conflicted by his actions. The boy had a lot of self control, Namjoon would give him that, but the way his lewd pants and stifled groans left his lips was filthy, and Namjoon had to hold himself back from mindlessly ruining him. Instead, he silently approached Jungkook and knelt down behind him, enjoying the view for a moment before interfering and replacing Jungkook’s hand with his own. Jungkook let out a humiliated sob and tried to scramble away, but Namjoon held him down with one hand while the other continued to stroke him. “I bet you’ve got yourself a pretty cock, don’t you?” Namjoon teased, giving him a few harsh tugs. Jungkook whimpered and squirmed, attempting escape, but he soon shamefully gave into rutting against Namjoon’s large hand.

“Shit, do you have any idea sexy you are right now?” Namjoon growled. He released his grip on Jungkook and watched him thrust involuntarily, seeking the friction that was just there, whining at the emptiness.

Namjoon chuckled before quickly sliding Jungkook’s pants down, over the curve of his ass, revealing skin and the tense, flexing muscles of his thighs. Namjoon was mildly surprised at how built Jungkook was. He had such a pretty, baby face, and yet his body showed off the results of regularly working out. It messed with his head but turned him on even more, and he poured lube over the exposed flesh, rubbing it over Jungkook’s ass and down the back of his legs as an excuse to touch. He pressed the pad of his finger against Jungkook’s tight, virgin hole and vaguely wondered if the boy ever fingered himself when he got horny.

Jungkook kicked back at his touch, and Namjoon was surprised to find him sobbing and shaking violently. “It’s ok, I said I’ll be gentler for your first time, I have at least that much consideration.”

He didn’t get any verbal response other than garbled, indistinguishable begging.

“You’ll be fine,” he assured before slowly pushing the slicked digit into the tight heat.


Jungkook screamed.



His uncle was drunk again when he got home from his date with Yoongi, and immediately began drawling curses at him.

“Did you go out with that fag again?!” He threw an empty can in Jungkook’s direction. “I said never to see him again, yet you still go out like a slut for men! What kind of image does that put on me, you ungrateful bastard?! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

Jungkook was fuming. Way to ruin the goodnight kiss he had just shared with Yoongi. “I’m pretty sure your reputation as an alcoholic druggie is worse,” he muttered before sulking to his room.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” His uncle bolted from the couch and lunged at him. He grabbed the back of Jungkook’s shirt when he tried to run away, yanking him down to the ground and belting out every profanity he knew. Jungkook scrambled to get back on his feet, but his uncle pulled him up and slammed him face first against the wall. Jungkook felt blood drip down from his nose and a dark bruise begin to form on his cheek. His pained groan turned into a panicked shriek when he felt his uncle’s rough hands pull at his jeans.

“Little fucker, you like boys?! You wanna be some man’s bitch?! I’ll show you, you fucking whore!”

Jungkook struggled to escape, but the hand clutching his neck, forcing his head into the wall, made it impossible for him to find any leverage. He kicked his legs back in an attempt to defend himself, but the grip around his neck crushed his throat and he choked. His hands desperately clawed at the fingers clamped over his windpipe.

“You wanna be fucked by boys? I’ll show you what a man feels like,” his uncle raged before forcing two fingers into his hole. Jungkook screamed at the harsh, dry intrusion and tried to wrench away from the torment, but the fingers began pounding mercilessly into him.

Where’s Yoongi?

Two turned to three.

He should be here! He saves me!



Namjoon slowly stretched out Jungkook’s hole, adding more than enough lube to allow for a smoother slide, but Jungkook’s struggling was making everything more difficult than it should’ve been. Namjoon was getting frustrated. He kept telling Jungkook to relax so it won’t hurt as much, but it appeared that every word he said was falling on deaf ears.

So he gave up trying to coach him through it. If he wasn’t going to listen, then he wasn’t going to listen. All Namjoon could do was proceed as gently as he was allowed.

He carefully began pumping three fingers into Jungkook.



Everything felt raw and bloody, but Yoongi was supposed to be here. Jungkook left his phone with him, and Yoongi should’ve broken down the door and this uncle’s nose by now.

Where is he?!



Namjoon removed his fingers after deeming that Jungkook was going to be as stretched as he would be. Fuck, it had been years since he fucked a virgin, and Jungkook was just so tight, Namjoon had to fight the animalistic urge to chase after his own pleasure. If he hurt Jungkook too much, it would take weeks for his body to recover, and even longer for his mentality. Namjoon slowly pushed his fingers back into Jungkook. “I need you to communicate with me, Jungkook. If I hurt you and you don’t say anything, I wouldn’t know.”

Jungkook didn’t respond.

“Have it your way.”



Jungkook let out a tortured sob when his uncle drove into him, pounding him brutally against the wall.

Why isn’t this stopping?!

He began to cry out for Yoongi, hoping it would make him arrive faster.

But he didn’t come.

There was no furious pounding on the door this time, no yelling, no shattering wood as the door was kicked down.

Jungkook gave up.

He went limp and let himself be used like the slut he was. He deserved it.

All he could do was stare blankly at the closed door.



Namjoon was relieved that Jungkook finally listened to him and relaxed, even though it didn’t make much of a difference anyway. Namjoon groaned at the crushing heat pulsing around him and dared to start moving. God, this felt so perfect, and Namjoon was at war with wanting it to last forever or to chase down his climax. He reached around Jungkook to pump his cock for him as he began thrusting faster. It was soft. Namjoon figured it would happen the first few times before Jungkook could get pleasure from bottoming, so he thumbed at the head of Jungkook’s cock and cursed when Jungkook clenched around him.



Stop touching me!

Jungkook wanted to yell and cry for help but nothing except broken moans and gasps escaped his throat. He hated that he was getting hard again. He didn’t want to like it. He wanted it to stop.



Namjoon pumped Jungkook in time with his thrusts, addicted to the enticing high. Jungkook shivered beneath him and abruptly came without warning, cum coating Namjoon’s fingers in hot spurts. Namjoon groaned loudly at the taut throbbing that surrounded him. Jungkook clenched so hard that Namjoon found it nearly impossible to move, and he released his load with a low moan of satisfaction.






Jungkook was not reacting to him.

Namjoon had no idea what to do. He cleaned Jungkook up, assured him that he’s had his blood tested and that he was clean, tried to get him to stand.

Jungkook remained pliant and unresponsive, staring at the door with dead eyes.

Namjoon apologized for not restraining himself, telling him that he should’ve taken him to the bed.

Nothing.

“Jungkook. Answer me.”

Nothing.

Namjoon tried running his fingers through Jungkook’s dark hair. Jungkook shuddered and tears began rolling down his cheeks. He looked up at Namjoon with glassy eyes and gripped his shirt.

“H-Hyung? Y-Y-Yoongi hyung? Yoongi…Yoongi hyung, why weren’t you there? Y-you always said y-you’d be there. B-b-but you weren’t! W-where did you go, hyung? I needed you!”

Namjoon stared at him in confusion. “Jungkook, I’m not-”

“H-hyung, h-how could you leave me all a-a-alone?! You promised!”

Jungkook sobbed and clutched Namjoon’s shirt as if it was the only thing grounding him.

Namjoon couldn’t understand anything else that Jungkook said after that except for scattered calling for this Yoongi hyung of his. He called the driver up to his penthouse, unable to come up with any other solution.

“Sir?” the driver asked cautiously, having never been ordered into Namjoon’s actual home.

“Go to my bedroom and grab any warm blanket you can find,” he commanded, still holding onto Jungkook.

“Sir, what-”

“JUST GO DOWN THE HALL, YOU CAN’T FUCKING MISS IT!” Namjoon yelled. Jungkook flinched and whimpered away from Namjoon. “No, no, Jungkook, I’m sorry. It’s fine, promise, c’mon it’s ok.”

“Y-Yoongi hyung,” Jungkook pleaded.

“Look, here’s a blanket. C'mon let me-”

Jungkook started screaming and crying when Namjoon tried to pry his hands from his shirt. “Shit. What the fuck do you want?”

“Perhaps it would be better if you rode back with him?”

Namjoon huffed and picked Jungkook up with a bit of struggle and carried him to the elevator. The driver held the building doors open for the two and Namjoon glared at anyone in the lobby who would dare stare at him. Once in the car, Namjoon groaned and rubbed his shoulder. “Fuck, he’s heavy,” he complained. “Have you found his actual residence, yet?”

“Yes, sir. I learned of it yesterday.”

“Get there as fast as you possibly can.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I need to know who this Yoongi is.”


Part 5

Chapter 1: This Is Just the Start

Read the prologue


Song- “Where Is My Mind” by Maxence Cyrin

The First Day

July 2nd, 10:54 PM

“Alright, sweetheart. I’m going to need you to strip down to your bra and underwear for me.”

I give a sideways glance to the old, ragged lady standing in front of me holding a pen and a sheet of paper with a crude sketch of the human body on it. The room I’m standing in in New Hope Wellness Facility (a.k.a.- the cheesiest and most cringe worthy name for a mental health facility on the planet) is cold and desolate; only a grey cot with a paper liner covering it and a small sink crouched under a medicine cabinet share the space with the two of us. The crude florescent light beams down, bounces off the bare walls, and assaults my pupils, forcing me to squint until the skin of my eyelids block out enough light to focus on her face. I assume that I’m in the medical room of the unit, but the last thing I would ever want is to lay back on that cot and let someone probe and examine me. I’ll attempt suicide a thousand more times before I let that happen.

“This is just protocol for all of our new patients, Katrina. We have to strip you down to make sure you’re not hiding any drugs, alcohol, or weapons in your clothes or undergarments.”

“So, what’s with the sketch, then?” Sandpaper sits in between my vocal cords and I pull my ratty sweatshirt closer to my body, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed.

“Once I ensure you’re not trying to smuggle anything in here, I have to circle all of the places on your body that you’ve cut or harmed. None of this is going to be held against you, sweetheart. This is all just going in your file for the psychiatrist to look at before she begins your evaluation.”

“I still don’t want to take my clothes off.”

“I know, but you have to. I will make it quick, I promise. Fighting this is only going to make it worse.”

I sigh heavily and rip my clothes off at lightning speed, wanting nothing more than to get this over with as fast as possible. The lady makes me hold my arms out to the side as if I’m being crucified and begins to rotate me slowly in a circle, making notes of all the places the emergency room nurse covered the crimson-colored craters I’ve etched into my skin.

“Can I ask how you ended up in here?” Her voice sounds faint and far away while she concentrates on making sure she marks her paper correctly. I eye her as she makes big red circles on the backs of the thighs, on the calves, shins, tops of the feet, back of the heels, front of the thighs, hipbones… Huh, she’s using a red pen. How ironic.

I clear my throat. Vertigo begins to take over me and I reach out to grab the cot for support.

“I, um, I thought I was going to kill myself,” I squeak, carefully leaving out the detail of the voices telling me to do so. “I called 911 to get myself out of danger.”

The woman stops circling both sides of the ribs mid-mark and looks up at me through her silver eyelashes.

“Well, that’s a first.”

“Excuse me?”

She gently takes my wrists in her hands and moves my arms in front of my body, careful not to dig her fingernails into my torn-up flesh. I’m sure I look reminiscent of a zombie, and to say I feel like one would be the understatement of the year.

“Everyone who ends up in here usually wants to die. You’re the first patient I’ve checked in who landed here because they chose to fight for their life, not end it.” She shrugs indifferently before placing my arms down by my sides and moving my incredibly long, black hair behind my shoulder to look at my neck.

“But I didn’t ask to end up here, you know,” I breathe.

“I know, Katrina. No one does. But, at least you’re not mandated by a court to be here. You can sign yourself out anytime you’d like.” The woman places larges circles around the left arm and both sides of the neck on the diagram.

I shift my weight between my bare feet. “Are there people here who are court mandated?”

“I’m legally not allowed to say, but you’re number three of three patients on this unit as of tonight. It shouldn’t be that difficult to weasel some information out of the other kids here.”

What in the hell is that supposed to mean?

“Alright… You don’t have any illicit or recreational drugs on you, correct?”

I tightly wrap my arms around my almost-nude body and stare at the floor. “That’s correct.”

“No alcohol of any kind?”

I fucking wish.

“No.”

“Do you hold in your possession any over-the-counter medicine that when used incorrectly could bring about a state of intoxication?”

“No.”

“And you do understand that lying about obtaining any of these substances can and will result in a search and seizure of your property by police, an arrest warrant in your name, a fine of up to $250,000, and a potential stay of up to ten years in a federal prison?”

Jesus Christ, is this woman serious?

“Yes, I understand.”

“Perfect.”

She winks at me before capping her pen and placing the diagram inside a manila folder with my name scribbled on the front of it. I throw my sweatshirt back on my body, and as I’m working my leggings up my thighs, her voice catches my attention.

“Hey, Katrina?”

“Yeah?”

“Changing all of that gauze daily might be a nuisance since there’s so much of it, but it will help speed up the healing process of those cuts. And, between you and me, aloe and some Benadryl should keep with itching at bay.”

“Where do I get Benadryl?”

“The psychiatrist will have to mark it on your prescription card for the pharmacy to fill, but if you ask her for some when you talk to her tomorrow, it shouldn’t be an issue. I don’t see why she would object to giving you a small teaspoon every day while you’re here. Her name is Dr. Lawson, but everyone around her just calls her Jennifer.”

Jennifer… Her name rolls around in my head as I snap my waistband on my stomach. Tension that I didn’t even know I had releases itself from my shoulders and I smile at the woman.

“Thank you.” The volume of my voice shrinks down to match how small I feel after standing almost naked in front of someone for so long. I never want to take my clothes off for anyone ever again.

“Just get better, okay?”

I follow the woman out of the medical room and see her swipe her employee I.D. on a keypad to disappear behind a set of industrial double doors close by. I stand there, frozen, watching her through the small rectangular window until her she turns right behind a corner and her shadow fades from view. I know I wasn’t supposed to follow her, but now what do I do?

“Katrina?”

My mom’s voice fills the air and I make a 180 degree turn to find her still leaning against the nurses’ desk in the middle of the hallway, in exactly the same spot I left her before being ushered into the exam room. After calling her in the ambulance on the way to the hospital and leaving a voicemail explaining to her that I was feeling suicidal (again, actively choosing to leave out the part about the voices), she met me in the emergency room, crying and frantic. My mom, as much as she refuses to admit it, always has had a flair for the dramatic, and no matter how much I tried to convince her that I was safest there, that they had patched me up and found me a place to go for a couple of days until I was sure I wouldn’t do something like this to myself again, she wouldn’t sit still or calm down until the doctors spoke to her directly. She spent hours sobbing over the brochures of the facility the nurse gave her and didn’t let go of my hand the entire hour and fifteen-minute drive from the hospital to the facility, much to my dismay. Now, after signing insurance forms and receiving discharge information for when I leave in a couple of days, she loiters around and hovers over me, just like she’s done for the last nineteen years of my life.

“Mom? I thought you would have been gone by now. It’s going to be after midnight when you get back.”

“Katrina, I’m not going to leave without saying goodbye.”

“It’s not ‘goodbye,’ Mom. It’s 'see you later.’ You’ll have gone more time without seeing me while I was at school this year than you will these next couple of days.”

“I know, but this is different.”

“Why? Because you can’t convince yourself that I’m going to be okay this time? News flash, Mom: I haven’t been okay in a long time.” The bitterness in my voice slices through the air and I catch a couple of nurses sitting behind the desk wince at my words. Have they been here since I showed up? Why am I just now noticing them?

“You don’t think I don’t know that?” Mom’s voice raises an octave and she lifts herself off of the desk to face me directly. “Who was the one who dragged your ass to therapy every damn week for the last ten years? Who was the one who administered your medicine to you every single day until you refused to keep taking it? Who’s the one paying for you to be here right now?”

I look down at the white slip-on Vans covering my feet and inhale sharply, working like a madman to keep the anger suddenly building up inside my chest from exploding. I don’t want to hurt my mom again. Not here. Not now.

“I think you should go now, Mom.”

“I’m not leaving here without a hug, Katrina.”

“A hug my ass,” I mutter under my breath.

“Excuse me?” Mom reaches out for my chin and shifts my head upward until I’m meeting her gaze. Her touch sends bugs crawling across my skin and I shriek at the sensation, my voice high and shrill. I violently grab Mom’s wrist and throw her hand off of my body in an attempt to rid of the insects, but even when her touch leaves me, the bugs do not. They pitter patter, pitter patter their way over me, wedge their way under my clothes and into my shoes, and I begin a dance of desperation to try and shake them off.

“Oh god, Katrina. Not this again,” Mom snaps, unamused, rubbing her sore shoulder as if I took to her joint with a baseball bat.

“Get them off of me! Get them off, GET THEM OFF!” I begin stripping myself as a short nurse with blonde hair and red scrubs rounds the corner of the nurses’ desk and assumes a fighting stance in front of me.

“Katrina? Hey, Katrina, sweetheart, can you tell me what’s wrong? What’s on you that you need to get rid of?” Her voice is gentle, soft, and as I look into her baby blue eyes framed by mascara-coated eyelashes, I know she’s not here to hurt me. My adrenaline continues to pump through my body, though, and as I kick my shoes off and do a spin, my gaze finds my mother, who is staring at me unfazed.

“The bugs! Mom touched me without my permission and now the bugs ARE BACK. DON’T TOUCH ME UNLESS I SAY IT’S OKAY, BECAUSE IF YOU DO, THE BUGS WILL COME BACK!”

“Okay Katrina, I can get you some medicine to make the bugs go away, but you’ll need to keep your clothes on for me. Do you mind going into the rec room and sitting on the couch until I come back? Janet can sit with you while you wait if you would like.”

Blondie motions toward an overweight nurse with bad highlights standing behind the station and I nod, jumping and leaping down the hall before entering a door directly to the right of the nurses’ desk. I struggle to find the light switch and flop onto the brown leather couch. Janet follows close behind, pulling up a chair from a round table in the opposite corner and placing it next to me. I wiggle and writhe in my spot as the bugs begin nipping at my skin, leaving sores under my gauze pads. Janet watches me suffer silently while chewing on some dead skin on her bottom lip, and I can’t believe I’m here, my shit show acting as entertainment for the employees of this god forsaken mental facility.

“Janet, just so you know, I’m not crazy,” I grumble, clawing at the bare skin I have left, the little skin that was spared from my blades and from the medical work of the emergency room nurse.

“Katrina, no one here thinks you’re crazy. If we were worried about your psyche, you wouldn’t have been placed on this floor.”

“No, I mean I know that there aren’t actually bugs on my skin, but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t feel like there are.”

Janet scoots her chair a hair closer to me and cocks her head to the side. “Really? Do you know what causes he bugs to appear?”

I nod. “Unwarranted touch. I don’t let people touch me without my permission.” My words are blunt, harsh, and I focus on articulating each syllable to perfection in a lame attempt to take my mind off of the pain.

“And Mom didn’t listen to you?”

“She never listens to me when it comes to that stuff. She always wants a hug, always wants a kiss, always wants to hold my hand, and I get that I’m her firstborn and that she doesn’t know how to help me anymore, but I don’t know how ignoring everything I ask her to do or not to do makes any sense at all… Damn it, WHERE IS THAT MEDICINE?!”

As if on cue, Blondie rounds the corner with a handful of airtight baggies and a syringe filled with a clear, jelly-like substance.

“You’re going to shoot me up with that stuff?” I raise my eyebrows at her as she begins to unwrap all of the plastic.

“It’s just some good, old fashioned Benadryl, but it’s prepped for an IV rather than as an oral medication.”

I squirm around in my seat, unable to follow her train of thought.

“But, I don’t have an IV in.”

“Yet,” Blondie says as she holds up one of the baggies with a little shake. “I’m going to put the needle in and leave it overnight, just in case Jennifer wants any of your medicine administered intravenously tomorrow, okay? If she doesn’t, one of the day nurses will take it out first thing after your evaluation.”

“Ugh, okay. Can we just get this in my system so I can feel NORMAL AGAIN?”

“Yep, it’s all ready. I just need you to stay still for me so I put in correctly. Do you need Janet to hold your arm down?”

Janet looks at me nervously and I soften, mouthing the words “it’s okay” before scooting up to the edge of the couch cushion. She places a large hand on my forearm as Blondie pulls on some latex gloves and disinfects the inside of my elbow with an alcohol pad. I take a deep breath, secretly craving the sensation of a sharp object piercing my skin. My eyes close as I feel the tingle of the needle entering my vein, desperately trying to stop the twisted smile from creeping onto my face.

“Good, Katrina. That slid right in. Now, this Benadryl might make you feel loopy and tired, but as soon as I inject this, I’ll show you to your room and we can get your bed set up so you can sleep for the evening, okay?”

“Like that will happen,” I snort. “I’ve intentionally overdosed on hydrocodone so many times that my liver metabolizes medicine before it even absorbs in my system. You’re going to need to inject me with my body weight in Benadryl before it knocks me out.”

Damn it, Katrina, stop talking. Quit spitting out your woes to the first person that’s willing to listen. You’ll sound like a nut job, or worse, a charity case.

Blondie places the needle of the syringe into the small blue tube attached to my IV and presses down on it slowly. I watch, entranced, as the liquid transfers from the syringe and disappears under my ghastly, paper-like skin. The area where the IV is inserted begins to warm and the sensation of pins and needles consumes by body, but my brain remains alert and my eyes don’t tire. The bugs immediately begin to die and fall off of me onto the floor one by one until my feet are surrounded with exoskeletons. I exhale dramatically.

“How does that feel, Katrina?”

“Better. Normal.” I lick my lips nervously and look at Janet, then at Blondie. “Thank you for helping me. I’m sorry I panicked on you guys.”

Blondie caps the small blue tube and adheres it to my skin with clear medical tape before reaching her hands out to help me off the couch. I decline her offer and stand up on my own, careful not to step on any of the dead bugs.

“Katrina, that’s our job. It’s what were here for.” Janet smiles softly as the three of us pad out of the rec room and back into the hallway. I glance around for Mom, but no sign of her can be found anywhere. Maybe she finally got the hint and left.

Guilt washes over me now that I’m medicated and stable again. All she wanted was to say goodbye and I wouldn’t give that to her. What a piece of shit daughter I am.

“Okay, Katrina, ready to find your room?” Blondie reaches behind the nurses’ desk and grabs a lanyard heavy with metal keys. I shrug and grab my bags that have been sitting atop the surface of the desk since I arrived and follow suit behind her down the hall opposite to that of the rec room and medical room. She stops at the second door to the left and I glance around, taking note that only two of the doors down the hall have names written on the whiteboards plastered on the doorframe. The room directly next to mine has Stephanie scribbled in stark handwriting, and the room adjacent and across the hall to me has a name sprawled in cursive so swift that I have to squint to make out the name: Grayson.

God help me if there is a boy living on this floor with me for the next week. I will cut his balls off in his sleep if he dares to even get within arm’s length of me.

Blondie messes with the lock, and eventually with a huff, swings the heavy wooden door open. She flips the light switch to the left of the doorframe and I’m greeted with an underwhelming sight: two twin-sized mattresses with small wooden bedframes beds sit inches apart from each other on a white tiled floor. In front of the beds to my left is the bathroom, which consists of nothing more than a shoebox of a shower, a dingy toilet, and a single vanity with a large mirror positioned above it. Opposite of the bathroom door is a large shelf of cubbies mounted to the wall, each about two feet by two feet in size. The rest of the room is barren, the light blue walls screaming for some kind of decoration or artwork to be placed upon them. I feel my shoulders drop as I walk to place my bags on the bed closest to the door. I had hoped it would at least be better than prison. Maybe I was wrong.

“Alright, Katrina, here’s your home-sweet-home for the next five days.” Blondie’s voice startles me out of my thoughts and I pull the cuffs of my sweatshirt sleeves past my fingertips before plopping on the mattress next to my belongings.

“Just a couple of housekeeping rules for you to remember: The water temperature in all of the faucets are controlled by an outside heating source, so don’t expect your showers to be anything more than lukewarm at best–”

“I’m sorry?” I raise my eyebrows.

“We can’t have patients intentionally trying to burn themselves while they’re staying here, Katrina. It’s a safety precaution.”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“It’s also a safety precaution that we go through all of the belongings you brought with before you claim them, so don’t expect to find any shoelaces in your shoes or strings in your elastic waistbands. They’ve have all been removed. We’ve also taken your shaving razors, any hot tools you would use to style your hair with, and all makeup products. Those aren’t allowed during your treatment, but you’ll get everything back before you’re discharged. We didn’t get rid of anything. We’re just holding onto it.”

Woah, wait a second.

“I’m sorry… I understand taking the shaving razors and my flat iron, but why my makeup?”

Blondie sighs and leans against the door frame, crossing one leg over the other at her ankle. “We see more people with addiction than you’d be able to fathom, Katrina. When they’re detoxing and they’re desperate for any kind of fix, they’ll smash up eye shadow palettes and eyeliner and snort it just to feel something. We can’t take any chances.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t end up in here because of drugs, for God’s sake.” My jaw is clenched so tightly that my teeth grind together as I spit the words out.

“We can’t pick and choose who the rules apply to, sweetheart.”

I shove my hands in between my thighs and dig my fingernails into my flesh, using the pain as a distraction from the anger brewing in the pit of my stomach. They went through my shit without my permission?! They’re thieves. Thieves! They could have stolen anything they wanted and I would never know.

“Okay, so, we don’t have a daily cleaning service, which means you’re expected to keep your room neat for the duration of your treatment,” she continues. “We don’t room check, but if any staff member happens to wander down the hall and find that you’re unusually messy, there will be consequences. Also, you’re more than welcome to close your door at night, since the hallway lights stay on for twenty-four hours, but don’t expect it to lock. The lock strictly works from the outside, and the only way to operate it is with a key, which we keep secured.”

I grip my inner thighs harder until I begin to feel a warm liquid soak through the fabric of my leggings. The thick, familiar, dark red liquid that I’ve become best friends with.

“Finally, we have a lax schedule that we follow every day. Breakfast is at eight thirty every morning, and a day nurse will wake you up an hour before breakfast. You’re not expected to get up at seven thirty, but you can if you’d like. Lunch is at twelve thirty in the afternoon, dinner is at seven, and lights need to be out by eleven. That’s not to say you need to be asleep, but you need to be in bed laying down by them. As long as you’re not in therapy or undergoing any kind of evaluations, you’ll have free time throughout the day to do what you’d like as long as it complies with our rules, whether that be shower, sleep, draw, journal—”

“Journal?” I snap my head up and cut Blondie off. “I didn’t know we could write here. If I did, I would have brought my diaries.” For as long as I can remember, writing has been one of the few solaces from the hurricane that constantly churns inside my brain. When I write, the entire world around me fades until my voice is the only thing that can be heard. When I write, I am strong. When I write, I am fearless.

“We have some extra notebooks at the station. I’ll make a note for a day nurse to give you one tomorrow.”

I bite my lip and look back down at the floor, my fingertips grazing over the blood spilling out from my skin and soaking my leggings.

“Alright Katrina, I think that’s everything. Get unpacked and head to bed for me, okay? I’m sure you’re exhausted from the day you’ve had.”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

Blondie pushes herself off of the doorframe and sits herself next to me on my bed. “I’ll be sitting with Janet all night if you need anything, okay?”

I shake my head up and down lazily.

“And Katrina?”

I crane my neck to look at her, some of my hair falling in my eyes in the process.

“We’ll get through this together. I promise.”

I swallow and tuck my hair behind my ear before catching her name on the I.D. clipped to her sleeve. Erica. Blondie’s name is Erica.

“Thanks, Erica.”

It feels like she really means it, too.

***

Song- “Last Smoke Before the Snowstorm” by Benjamin Francis Leftwich

July 2nd, 11:42 PM

“Knock, knock.”

A deep voice fills the air behind me as I’m unpacking my clothes from my duffle bag and causes me to leap out of my skin. I turn to find the source of the noise only to be greeted with the most intimidating creature I’ve ever laid my eyes on loitering in the doorway. My eyes graze over him from his mix-matched sock-covered feet, up his old, baggy sweatpants, across the black muscle tank hanging on his torso, to his tanned face and messy hair. His jaw is clenched and his dark eyed glare gives me a once over before blinking slowly and taking a couple of steps into my room. The closer he gets to me, the smaller I become; he hovers over a foot above me and he smells like sweat and the lingering musk of men’s body wash. He’s a stunning creature, one my eyes haven’t had the pleasure of staring at before now, and I’ve never been more afraid for my safety in my entire life.

“You haven’t written your name on your whiteboard, yet,” he continues while walking to the foot of my bed, eyeing all of the piles of clothes I’ve made while trying to get organized. “A new patient comes in and creates all this ruckus while I’m supposed to be sleeping, and as I peek my head out to see who it is, I don’t even get a name. Now I have to crawl out of bed, sneak across the hall to their room when the nurses aren’t looking, and introduce myself to them in all of my sleepy glory.” Sarcasm drips from his voice as he breaks out into a boyish grin, and I roll my eyes at the sentiment, praying that my adrenaline will stop pumping long enough to get a steady grip on my clothes. Please, God, don’t let him hurt me. Don’t let me die here today. I barely escaped death this morning. I don’t want to have to do it again tonight.

“You must be Grayson,” I choke, my mouth almost too dry to speak.

“How’d you guess?”

I give him a sideways glance as he crosses his arms over his chest, his biceps expanding under his skin with the movement. “I was told earlier tonight that there are only two other patients here, and you don’t look much like a 'Stephanie’ to me. It was just a matter of simple deduction.”

Grayson chuckles and the sound makes me jump again before leaning my back up against the wall for support. “You’ve deduced correctly. I’m Grayson, in the flesh and blood.”

“Mhm. That’s nice.”

“What, you’re not going to tell me your name?”

“Can I tell you after I finish unpacking?” I’m trying to stall giving him any personal information for as long as possible.

“Sure, I’ll even help you.”

No, PLEASE don’t do that–

Grayson’s voice softens and reaches for a pile of leggings. Watching his hands curl around my belongings shoots off sirens in my brain, but I stand frozen as he spins on his heels and finds the cubby I’ve places all my other pants in. He places them down gently in the space before smoothing the pile free of any wrinkles, and as he heads back toward the bed to pick up some more, he finds me staring helplessly at him.

“Hey, love, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Love. Hey, love. The term of endearment shakes me from my trance-like state and I begin to stutter while taking unsteady steps toward him.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I'm—I’m just trying to get used to this new environment, that’s all.”

“I get it. It’s not every day a stranger walks into your place of slumber and offers to put your laundry away for you, all before they learn your name.”

“It’s… it’s something like that, yeah,” I exhale.

Grayson pivots to place another pile into a cubby before facing me again. “To be fair, this is new for me, too. I’ve never offered to help a peculiar, but unusually beautiful girl, with her laundry before I know her name.”

My ears perk up at his words. “What did you just say?”

“You’re not deaf. I know you heard me.”

The room around me begins to spin as Grayson clears my bed completely. I want to help him, I don’t want him to do my dirty work alone, but I also want to scream and run and get as far away from this boy as possible. He’s going to hurt me, I know he is. Why am I not running?!

But, wait, when did the buzzing in my head stop?

The everlasting hurricane that thrashes about inside of me brings a lot of noise with it, and no matter how hard I’ve tried, for the last nineteen years I’ve never been able to shut it off. It accompanies me wherever I go, with whatever I do, and I’ve grown so accustomed to it that I’ve become skilled at ignoring it. Most of the time it’s an annoying buzz, but it times of turmoil, it can turn into a wailing rage that is deafening beyond belief. Suddenly, though, standing in front of Grayson, a boy I’ve known for maybe five whole minutes, there’s absolutely no noise in my head. Nothing. The only sound I can pick up is that of Grayson’s breathing, slow and even, in and out.

Oh my god, did Grayson just turn the noise off?

“All done. Will you tell me your name now?” Grayson’s voice pulls me back to reality, and just as I’m about to open my mouth to answer, Erica pops her head in my doorway.

“I knew I heard multiple voices coming from this room. Grayson, get back to bed and let Katrina get settled in. She doesn’t need harassing.”

Grayson moves his gaze from Erica to me and raises his eyebrows devilishly. “Katrina, it is?”

I nod quickly, lacing my fingers together but unable to break from his stare.

“So… beautiful…” he breathes. Beautiful? He’s lying. This is some kind of sick joke. There’s no way. Me, beautiful? Yeah, right.

“Alright, enough flirting.” Erica waves Grayson toward her and he obliges. “You can bother her in the morning. Right now, sleep will do both of you some wonders. Come on.”

Erica ushers Grayson out of my room, and before reaching behind her to close my door, Grayson turns around to shoot me quick wink. Suddenly, he’s completely disappeared from view, and as I plop down on my bed and throw my face into my pillow, I wonder what in the hell just happened.  Was there some kind of energetic connection or am I going completely mad? Why didn’t I run away? Why did I feel so compelled to stay close to him?

Suddenly, in Grayson’s absence, the buzzing in my brain clicks back on.

Great.


Go to chapter 2 (coming soon)

So That’s That

Once particular scene that broke my heart during the finale was when Delia was looking at the pictures of wedding dresses, and so I decided to fic it! I hope you enjoy!! Please let me know if you do :) 

(The italicized quotes are from episode 4.7, and the other dialogue at the beginning is from the s6 finale. I have a hard time understanding Val’s accent so it’s not 100% correct.)

With only a few weeks to prepare for the wedding, Nonnatus House was in a mad dash. The girls gathered in Barbara’s bedroom late one evening, pouring over catalogues of dresses. The room was filled with giggles, and “oohs” and “aahs” as pictures were passed around. Delia flipped through one of the magazines, stopping at one particular dress. The gorgeous white gown had a bodice of lace, and an elegant train. She handed the picture to Barbara.

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The Eye of the Storm - Benedict x reader

A/N: This came out way more angsty than I anticipated, but I hope you guys enjoy it :) I’ve suffered from panic attacks in the past, so I hope this expresses how truly terrible it is…
I’m trying to work on my requests in a steady rhythm, and the goal is to post one story, like, at least every two days, but I guess we’ll see what happens… Thanks for all the love, everyone! You guys rock ;D

Requested by anon: Benedict x reader. The reader is scared of thunder due to an abusive past. She calls Benedict just wanting to hear his voice. Not knowing he’s coming home already. Can they have a basset hound as well please. Xx

Word count: 1879
Warnings: mentions of physical, verbal and psychological abuse

Originally posted by sweaterweatherisbetterweather

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Vraie famille

A/N: Based off the promo pic for episode eleven of Jughead looking devastated in his dad’s trailer. Hope you enjoy :)

“Dad?” Jughead Jones yelled as he threw open the door, a frantic mess- Archie, Betty and Veronica in tow. The trailer creaked with their weight but Jughead paid no heed as he registered the dark room before him, devoid of any traces that his father was still here. No clothes laying across the floor, no Serpent jackets hanging on the back of a chair- no beer bottles or alcoholic of any sort, and the pictures that were up behind the kitchen counter- gone.

“Shit.” Jughead whispered, hands fumbling for his phone as he checked the text Joaquin had sent him once again.

Jughead, your dad’s leaving. Hurry.

With a few words- the happy night that Jughead was having came to an end.

He was too late, it seemed.

“Jughead, what’s going on?” Veronica asked him, hand on his shoulder.

He’d bolted from the dance the moment Joaquin had sent him this, with no explanation, and the rest had followed him. The whole way here, Jughead’s heart had been thudding, hands had been shaking, because the mere possibility that his family was abandoning him once again was terrifying. Not even Betty’s hand, grasped in his, could sooth him even the slightest bit.

He didn’t respond to Veronica.

He walked around the trailer, the faintest shred of hope he had grasping onto any sign that no, his father hadn’t actually left, but the empty bedroom, with one desolate mattress lying in the centre, only further cemented his anguish.

He kicked the door of the room with all the strength he could muster up, hands curling up into fists, skin whitening.

“Juggie,” Betty said worried cerulean eyes on his, obviously alarmed. He looked at her with hopelessness and misery, and Betty almost recoiled, her own eyes glistening.

FP Jones had left.

Why? Jughead didn’t know.

He walked to the kitchen, his grey eyes trying to ignore his violently trembling hands. Archie, Veronica and Betty stood next to him, the former two looking unsure of what to do, while the latter could only place an arm around him. No one said anything, but Veronica seemed to have realised his harsh reality.

His phone rang, previously set on the counter, and tunes of The Bohemian Rhapsody spread in the dimly lit trailer. The number was unknown. It was his dad, he was sure.

He didn’t want to pick it up, honestly. He didn’t want to hear whatever excuse his father was going to give him.

But he did so anyway.

He took a deep breath. “Hello?” His voice was soft and broken.

“Jughead.” The deep, raspy voice said, on the other end of the receiver. Jughead curled his lip up and bit it.

“How did you know I’d found out?”

“I had one of my men inform me when you entered the trailer. I couldn’t risk leaving a note.” FP said, and Jughead listened. “Jughead, I am so, so sorry. I had to leave, I had to leave Riverdale, and I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” Jughead’s voice cracked.

“Jug, I can’t tell you that.”

“Dad, why?”

“Jug-”

“Dad, if you have any courage, any at all, you’ll tell me why exactly you left.”

Silence for a few moments on the other end. Jughead was ready to throw the phone at the wall.

“Jughead, please-”

“Goodbye, Dad-” Jughead was about to cut the call.  He needed to why, and if his Dad wasn’t telling him, he might as well stop himself from going through his torture.

“No, Jug, wait.” Jughead did. “Listen, I need to tell you something. Something big, and I’m so sorry for this.”

Jughead’s silence was an indicator for the older man to go on.

“I have incriminating evidence for Jason Blossom’s murder.”

Jughead paled at that, and he walked away from the group, not wanting them to hear what he didn’t want to hear himself. “What?”

“Jason Blossom’s jacket.”

Jughead nearly dropped the phone. “Dad, why do you have-?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Dad, did you murder Jason Blossom?” Jughead asked, heart rate increasing and breath becoming uneven. “Did you- or the gang-”

“Jughead, I need to go now, but you should know that I love you very much and I am so so sorry, and I wish that I never had to do this.”

Jughead’s eyes welled up with tears. “Dad, are you even planning on coming home?”

“I don’t know, bud, and it seems unlikely.”

Jughead bit his fist. He asked his question again, even though FP Jones had deigned not to answer it.

“Dad, tell me one thing.” He said, voice cracking and becoming even softer. “Did you-” He gulped. “Did you murder-”

“I’m sorry, Jughead.”

And the phone line clicked, followed by a long beep, and Jughead stood there, unsure of how to process the information he’d just received, as he brought his phone down and looked at it.

It started raining, the deafening pitter-patters on the trailer roof overwhelming him, and everything started echoing. Thunder cracked in the sky, lightening lit up the trailer, and suddenly, he was back in the rickety old house he’d shared with his mom, dad and Jellybean.

The rain continued, flattening his mom’s hair as she stood at the edge of the porch, yelling at his dad, her hand in Jellybean’s. Jellybean was drenched, water droplets running down her face, but doing nothing to hide the fact that she, like her brother were crying. They didn’t want their family to be torn apart, as it was right now.

Suitcases surrounded the girls, as his mom continued yelling, his dad pleading for them to please stay, we can work this out, don’t leave, but all Jughead could do was wipe away his tears, wondering why his mom wasn’t taking him too.

And then the taxi arrived, and Jellybean started screaming for her brother and her dad, but Jughead couldn’t do anything, other than stand at the doorway with tear stained cheeks, his own beanie dry while her scarf was drenched, and wave at her, one last time.

And as the taxi sped away, FP Jones went back inside, all his efforts in vain, and he drowned himself in bottles of vodka, while his son helplessly watched. At least then, Jughead had his dad.

Now?

He snapped back into reality, and realised he was crouched against the wall that separated his kitchen and the living room, sobbing his heart out. It wasn’t raining anymore- nothing was a reality. His fists were curled against his forehead, and in his pathetic position, he didn’t notice Archie and Veronica standing before him, with worried expressions, and Betty crouching down next to him and enveloping him. No one said anything, because at this point, what could help?

He’d honestly believed that his dad was turning over a new leaf. He’d shaved, actually made dinner, started working again, and started saving it, using that instead of whatever black money the Serpents dealt with. Gosh, he had been so stupid. So gullible. He’d let himself hope for a new life, one where Jellybean and his mom moved back in. He’d dreamt of Thanksgiving, at their old house, with a table set for four. He’d imagined his parents actually loving each other again, with them hugging each other as they watched their kids unwrap presents on Christmas day. He’d imagined so many things when he saw FP Jones finally, and seemingly clean up his act, but now…

He curled into Betty, his heart broken, hopelessness pervading within every inch of him, heart-wrenching, gut-twisting sobs permeating the cold and stale air of the trailer.

His family had abandoned him.


He stood in Archie’s driveway, a suitcase in hand as he hugged the redhead. One week had passed since Jughead’s breakdown in his trailer.

A lot had happened since then.

His dad was now a main suspect in the investigation of Jason Blossom. A thorough background check had been done, with Jughead being interrogated a second time, and his mom spoken to over the phone.

In lieu of said phone call, Gladys Jones had been made aware that her son had no family left in Riverdale. She had been furious and guilty, calling her tormented son immediately.

“Come here,”, “Please,” and “Sorry,” were words repeated multiple times in the conversation they’d had.

The thing was, Jughead didn’t want to go. His family was here- with the Andrews and the Coopers. Well, mainly the youngest one. He’d almost declined her offer, because she’d already left him once, and his stupid pride wouldn’t let him go.

It had taken one tearful call from Jellybean and another tearful midnight stroll with Betty to convince him to change his mind.

He wasn’t going forever, though. Just for winter break and he’d be back, staying with the Andrews after.

But it was with a heavy heart that he said goodbye to the only people who had stayed beside him during his lowest moments. He wouldn’t be spending Christmas with them, or New Year’s, and that upset him, but thoughts of a ten year old, soon to be eleven, made him look forward to this.

Everyone had already given him his Christmas gifts, and he couldn’t be more thankful to have these people he could call his friends by his side. Betty had made him an entire cassette, its contents yet to be discovered, but Jughead knew he was going to love it. “Listen to it only on Christmas,” She’d said, and he intended to keep that promise.

Archie had given him a photo album of their friendship throughout the year, and Veronica had given him first edition version of ‘The Catcher in the Rye’, “For Riverdale’s very own Holden Caulfield,” She’d said.

He was eternally grateful, not only for the gifts, but their presence. He had yet to give them theirs, and he was going to channel his appreciation into their gifts.

And so, here he was, patting Fred Andrews on the back as he waited for his taxi to the train station, leaning out of their embrace.

“Thank you.” He whispered, and smiled as Fred said, “Don’t mention it.”

He hugged Veronica, who was clad in the most stylish, and possibly most expensive coat he’d ever seen, and he almost didn’t want to embrace her with the fear of ruining it.

“Don’t get yourself killed out there, Jughead, or Betty and I will kill you.”

Jughead laughed. “Noted.”

Finally, it was Betty.

They looked at the rest, and they got the message, because they hastily excused themselves and went back inside the heat.

“I’ll miss you, Jug.”

“You too, Betts.”

They both leaned in for a short kiss, but that wasn’t what neither Betty nor him needed. Instead, he broke it and put his arms around her, burying his head in her blonde locks.

Simultaneously, they crouched down together, so that more of them could be intertwined. It was a peculiar sight, Jughead thought, for their sure spectators from the Andrews’ living room window, but he didn’t care as he breathed in the scent of her honey and cinnamon shampoo.

He thought of he they’d been in a similar position seven days ago, but with him in emotional anguish. This time it was a hug of desperation and love and comfort, and Jughead knew he’d miss Betty Freaking Cooper, the sunshine that she was, the most.

He remembered the monologue she’d  given him, the long, mostly one sided conversation they’d had on the night his dad left. She’d helped him realise that he wasn’t alone in this big, bad, world and he did have family- among his friends. She’d grasped his shoulders, looked into his eyes, and as blue met grey, she made her first declaration- she loved him.

He’d said it back there and then, and he meant it with all his being.

The sound of snow crunching and an engine notified them that his taxi had arrived.

They broke apart, albeit unwillingly, but they couldn’t keep the driver waiting. With one last kiss, he put his arm around her as he heaved his extremely light suitcase into the backseat.

Finally, the door closed, their arms separated, and Jughead drew a small crown on the frost that had formed on the window, from the cold Canadian weather.

Betty laughed, her cheeks flushed, and the taxi started moving. He smiled at her until she was out of sight, and with a sigh, a leaned back against the taxi’s black interiors. He wasn’t going forever. He’d be back.

He had a family.

Redemption

Originally posted by squander-of-space

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

GIF Credit: ^^

Warning: Lots of yelling, swearing, mentions of alcohol abuse, and physical abuse. I’m not really making Jason look too good in this one :( sorry ya’ll.

Rating: Mature

A/N: @itsdragonfire13 requested this one!! From the sentence prompts, #40 “I don’t even know who you are anymore.” Y/n (your name), e/c (your eye color)

“Jason stop!” you screamed. He turned around, fire blazing in his eyes.

“What did you say?!” Jason stepped close to you, the smell of whiskey radiating off him.

“Jason you’re drunk, you’re not thinking straight,” you laid a hand softly on his face. He batted it away.

“I’m perfectly fine!” He started to walk back toward the door but you grabbed his wrist, this was a mistake. He moved with such blinding speed that you didn’t even see him twist your arm behind you. There was such a sharp and sudden pain up and down it that you cried out, tears in your eyes. He let go the moment he heard you. His body hovered over yours, rooted to the spot by shock. “I- y/n… I didn't…”

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Bad Love

Story: Theo Raeken X Reader
Song inspo: Mad Love by Jojo
You know, love is just one of those things
You can’t really explain, it’s insane
Type: Mild smut
Warnings: Possible trigger for abuse

Words: Y/N = Your Name      Y/F/C = Your favorite color

Originally posted by michaelcligford


                        The room was a mess. Paper was scattered everywhere, broken light fixtures, claw marks on the furniture, and trails of blood here and there. Theo’s grip on your neck tightened, not cutting off air but enough to show you how serious he was. This fight was the biggest one the two of you had.
                          One of the lacrosse guys, Angelo, flirted with you during gym. He went as far as give you his number and placed a kiss on your cheek. With a wink he went back to jogging leaving you in a flustered mess. Theo saw and lost his mind. He nearly went on a killing spree, he’d never been this angry before. When you got home from a late night study session, Theo sat on the recliner in your living room, waiting for you.
                     "Jesus Christ, Theo! What are you doing here?“ You saw that he went in your dad’s alcohol cabinet and poured himself a drink, "where were you?” Furrowing a brow you dropped your bag by the front door and walked towards him, “studying, how much have you had to drink?” Theo yanked the bottle away once he saw you reaching for it. “Studying? Are you sure you weren’t too busy fucking Angelo?” “Excuse me?” Theo and you were only friends with benefits. At first it started out as fuck buddies but overtime the two of you became like friends. Despite that progression, he had no right to talk to you like that. “You were weren’t you? Being a little slut, right?” Holding the door open, “you need to leave, I don’t know what the hell is your problem but you need to go figure that shit out.” He walked towards the door, instead of walking out he placed his hand over yours gently, while gazing into your eyes. A second later he violently slammed the door and revealed his gold eyes. “I smell him on you!”
                          Now here you both were, reaching a climax in the fight. Both of you had a choice to make; walk or stay. Theo’s sharp stare bore a hole through your skull. It’s was the silence that was more deafening then all the screaming and shouting the two of you did.   “I’m not yours, why do you care?” You said through a strained voice. Theo crashed his lips against yours with his hand still around your neck. The powerful kiss cut off oxygen in your brain making your head spin. You placed your hands on his hip to keep some kind of balance. Theo pulled back giving you a chance to breathe. He lifted you chin to meet his eyes. “Yes, you are.”

Lay here with me in the dark
I know my edges are sharp
But sometimes the pain is what hurts you so good

                    “Hey Y/N, do you have a partner?” You didn’t have to look up to know it was Angelo. His smooth voice stood out from other guys. About two weeks after the whole incident with Theo, he did something that pushed you over the edge. You called it quits and you haven’t heard or seen him anywhere since then. His big hazel brown eyes looked hopeful when you meet his gaze. “Nope.” He flashed you one of his sexy smiles as you got up. The game was simple. Teams of three or two battled each other in a relay race. At each station was a puzzle or physical activity, the team must complete certain tasks at these stations but it requires complete teamwork or it doesn’t work at all.  The new gym coach, Kell, was very into shows like American Ninja Warrior and Wipeout and always showcased it at gym. This game was called Tag Team. “I think we should go with y/f/c”  You gasped at his choice. “What? Bad pick?” “This just so happens to be my favorite color” He held the ribbon to your face, “I agree, it complements your skin”
             The wind rushed through your hair as you ran across the field. Soft but strong hands gripped yours, you turned to meet hazel brown pools reflecting determination. This gave you strength. Before you knew it, his lips were on yours as you two celebrated the win. Angelo looked a bit shocked when you pulled away and jumped up and down. He didn’t kiss you, you grabbed the back of his neck to plaster a sweet yet eager kiss on his lips. The whistle blew signaling the end of gym before he could say anything. Dressed back into your school clothes,  you went to the back to get some water from the water fountain. Once you quenched your thrust, a pair of hands snaked around your hips and pulled you in.  The kiss was brief before you saw who it was.  "That was some kiss but I thought I deserved a better one, don’t you think?“ You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck to close any gap between you two. This time, the kiss was more hot, dancing tongues creating heat. It all stopped when Angelo was tackled to the pavement receiving punches from a very angry Theo Raeken.
                "Theo stop it!” You pulled back his arm but he pushed you back, knocking you onto the floor. He kept going at it. There was nothing you could do except cry for him to stop. Once he heard your sobs he got off the floor and cleaned off his hand with a towel.  Theo threw the blood-stained towel onto Angelo’s face. His attention was now devoted to you and instead of the brown eyes you found yourself to familiarize with, his eyes were almost black. He yanked you up from the floor and wrapped his hand awfully tight around your wrist. You cried out in pain and tried wriggle out of the death grip.  Theo squeezed a bit tighter as he led you to his truck.
               The car ride was very silent. You rubbed your wrist where he grabbed you. It had a sharp sting to it every time you touched the bad bruise. The car pulled up in front of the house. You got out of the car and rushed to the front door so you could quickly get in and away from him. Being a werewolf, he had already caught up with you and you could feel him close behind. As you tried to unlock the door, you felt him press up close behind and take each of your wrists in his hands and holding them up on the door as he moved his knee to rest between your thighs. Your breath got caught in your throat and your eyes began to tear up as he secured your hands high above your head with only one hand. The other trailed down your body from your arm, lightly running over the side of your breast before coming to a sudden stop on your hip.  

               You could feel his hot breath on your neck as he moved slowly to your ear and grazed his lips against it slightly. “I seem to remember that you’re mine, right?” Theo spoke in a low, steady voice. You shivered and the tears that bundled up inside began to lose control as one tear slid down your cheek. “When we walk through this door, I will make sure that it burns in your mind…your body…I will have you how I want you…and this time, you’re going to listen…” His hand moved away from your hip to caress above your jeans. A moan flitted from your mouth and you could hardly believe that came from deep within your chest, your head fell back to rest on his shoulder. Theo bit down on your neck and kissed it to relieve any pain he may have caused.

                “Am I understood, Y/N?” the hand that caressed your skin, slipped into your jeans, rubbing over your heat. Using the silky material of your underwear, Theo rubbed circles around your clit, making it hard for you to answer or let alone speak properly. You could feel your folds dripping, soaking up your panties. In response to his touch, you rode his hand as his fingers artfully worked over your core. This his new approach to show that this was him claiming, taking possession of you, he was also showing you how much you wanted him as well.

               "Answer me, Y/N. Do you understand that you are mine and no one else’s?“ Theo clamped his fingers down on your clit and your knees buckled as your hot core clenched tightly, making you cum on the doorstep. Using his knee between your thighs, he held you up, and in the middle of your orgasm you cried "Yes!” “Yes what?” “Yes…I understand” You whispered.

               "There’s my good girl" he said. “Now open the door.” He released your hands slowly and backed away. You fumbled with your keys, hurrying to get inside. Once you opened the door, you tossed the keys on a table by the door and your bag as well. Theo closed the door and you turned to him. He grabbed your waist to mash you with him and snaked a hand into your hair while his lips violently took yours into a fervent, hard kiss. You opened your mouth to allow his tongue to enter.

                His hands pulled off your shirt then rested at your waist, creeping towards your breasts. He rubbed them over your bra and pinched your buds. You groaned into the kiss and he pinched you harder, making you gasp in what was almost pain. Theo pulled your head back by your hair kissing a trail to your ear and then down your neck, licking and sucking. You shivered as you watched him drop to his knees and undo your jeans. Standing before him in black silk panties and bra, he stood and stared at you, his heated gaze. He pulled his shirt over his head, undid his jeans, dropped them and his boxers to the floor. Theo stood before you naked, his cock hard and throbbing.

                  He came to you and kissed you again, hard and passionate. He backed you up until you were against the wall with nowhere to go. “Get on your knees and suck.” His voice was raspy and harsh.

                  You wrapped your lips tightly around him. His hand wrapped up in your hair as you took his balls in your hand, working them over and pulling them, nails scratching lightly over them. You let your tongue circle around the head of his cock, sucking, slowly taking more and more of him in. You could feel his cock swelling in your mouth, throbbing, getting harder and harder. He wrapped his hand tighter in your hair as he began to thrust into your mouth. You sucked him harder, opening wider as his thrusts became more powerful. You took him all in, spit running down my chin as he drove harder and faster, gagging you and making you take him in. With a loud grunt, he pushed his cock into your throat and you felt his cum explode as you sucked it, swallowing every drop. He untangled his hands from your hair and stepped away from you, his breath coming hard and fast, but beginning to slow down. As you did, you fell to your hands and knees in front of him, wheezing to catch your breath. “Get up.” You looked up at him, surprised at the hardness in his voice. You stood in front of him shakily, using the wall behind me for support.

You give me bad love
But I’ll take what I get, I’m starvin’ for it

                Theo turned and walked to the bedroom. You assumed you should follow him, so you started after him, your knees weak. As I came into your room, he sat on the chair in the corner of the room and motioned for you to come closer. He stood, grabbing you and quickly, he turned you over the arm of the chair and you felt a stinging blow as his hand came down hard on your butt. “That’s for kissing Angelo, my little slut,” he said gruffly. His hand came down again, the sound echoing in the room. “That’s for not listening to me,” he growled. You braced myself and then felt the third stinging blow. “And that’s so I can feel your ass grow hot under my touch,” he whispered, his lips barely grazing your ear.

                 You moaned as you felt his hands caress your ass, running a light touch against the painful after-hits. His hand dropped between your legs and he roughly pushed a finger into your wet pussy, and then two. He began to pound you with his fingers, working you into a frenzy as he fingered and talked to you. “You’re gonna cum all over my hand again….You’re so hot with your ass hot and aching for me….Fuck my fingers baby…” Theo moved so that he was hitting your clit with every thrust and you trembled all over.

“Tell me,” he whispered in your ear. “Tell me you’re cumming for me, Y/N”

                 "I’m cumming, Theo, I’m gonna cum for you" You yelled, cumming hard on his hand, your walls clenching his fingers. Still not coming down from your high, Theo pushed himself into you.
                 He started thrusting hard and fast. The sounds of slapping filled the room as his hips slammed against your backside. Wanting to feel even better, you pushed my butt back at him, increasing the thrusts, making Theo go deep and hard. “Oh, God…you feel so good, Y/N…I’m gonna cum…” With that, Theo moaned loudly and tensed up behind you. His thrusts became sloppy and with one more long stroke, he released his hot seed deep inside you. His orgasm caused the last one out of you. Theo picked you up and carried you to the bed, laying you down and crawling up beside you. Wrapping an arm around you, Theo pulled you close to him, settling his softening cock between your butt cheeks. “You’re mine, Y/N. I love you and if you leave me, I don’t know what I’ll do.” You interlocked your fingers with his, “I love you too, Theo. Even if you’re bad for me. I can’t and I won’t leave you.” The two of you dozed off to sleep after listening to each other’s breathing.

Masterlist

originally-a-girl  asked:

“When you love someone, you just don’t stop. Ever. Even when people roll their eyes or call you crazy… even then. Specially then!” Can I request this one for Oikawa and Tsukishima please?

Get ready for some angst, y'all!


Oikawa Tooru //

It had been a few weeks now. Weeks spent without his warmth and his comfort. Without the constant assurance that yes, someone had your back no matter what. No matter if the sun was shining or if the world was getting blown away by something so intense and huge to overcome that breathing became difficult.

But it had to be.

There were a few reasons why you had ended things with Oikawa. One of them was both of you failing to make enough time to keep a genuine relationship up. Training, family, school, friends. There was always something keeping you apart. And you just weren’t the person to give up everything for a single person. You shouldn’t have to when he wasn’t willing to make an effort either.

Another reason why you weren’t together anymore were his fangirls. It was sad and cliché but it was the truth. You should have expected it and honestly, you did! But no one had told you that it was gonna be so god damn hard to overlook the hate and ignore the comments when they knew exactly where they had to hit to hurt you.

You had ignored his calls and his texts, had avoided his constant tries to talk to you at school. There was a day where you had hid in a tree, accidentally dropping your lunch onto a poor first year because you were just so scared to face him. Because you knew that if you saw him again, saw the concern and determination, the anxiety that boy kept inside him, not to mention the crazy amount of love for you, you would break and take him back. And that would bring you back to the same hurtful place you were before.

It was about two and a half weeks after you had broken up when you came across a conversation you knew wasn’t meant for you ears. You had forgotten your jacket in the classroom and had returned to retrieve it when voices drifted out of the half closed door.

Immediately recognizing the voices to be Oikawa and his best friend Iwaizumi – who had grown to be a great friend of yours too when you started dating Seijou’s captain – you intended to backtrack and get the hell out of there before they noticed you. But you heard your name and you halted. You knew curiosity killed the cat.

But satisfaction apparently brought her back, so…

Creeping closer you hid behind the door, turning your head so your ear was aligned to the door. And then you heard it.

“When you love someone, you just don’t stop. Ever. Even when people roll their eyes or call you crazy… even then. Specially then!”

You had never heard Oikawa speak like that before. So broken but still filled with determination. Pressing a hand to your mouth you felt something heavy lift off your chest. You knew both of you had been bruised by the break up but you hadn’t expected him to still keep such a tight grip on you.

Feeling tears sting in your eyes, you turned around and pushed the door open. Suddenly being the center of attention wasn’t exactly up your alley but if push came to shove you could still say you had come to get your jacket.

Your eyes immediately found Oikawa’s and he stood up, taking a few steps in your direction without breaking the contact. You had been right. Seeing him was stirring up every single emotion you had locked away. It hurt. But in a good way. Like ripping of a band aid that had been left on for too long, keeping your feelings at bay.

Choking back a sob you jumped forward, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest. There was not a second of hesitation before he returned the hug and nuzzled into the crown of your head.

“I’m sorry”, you whispered, not having the strength to raise your voice.

You felt him shake his head. “I’m sorry.”, he retorted and pressed a kiss to your temple. “I should’ve taken everything more seriously. I didn’t realize what I had until you were gone. I promise I’ll try harder. You’re worth it.”


Tsukishima Kei //

Some girls in your class had been at it again. Going on and on and on about how much of a douche Tsukishima Kei in class 1-4 was, fully aware they were talking about your boyfriend.

There was a lot you could take. You had gotten used to their jabs about yourself, your skills and reputation. Honestly you weren’t someone who gave a shit about what others talked about you as long as you knew who your real friends were.

But talking shit about someone you loved, oh boy, they really had guts.

Standing up and moving to the two tables the gossip girls occupied, you crossed your arms across your chest. “Excuse me?”

You immediately had their attention. A sneer appeared on all their faces at once and you were impressed how synchronized it happened. Surely this wasn’t the first time. You had to give them at least a six for that.

“What do you want?”, one of them asked. Even though you were standing in front of her seated position, she still managed to look down on you.

“I want you to stop trash talking my boyfriend since you don’t know him.” You didn’t let them intimidate you. You had a whole volleyball team to back you up if things went wrong. And some of them could be really scary if they wanted.

Another girl scoffed and stood up, imitating your stance and raising an eyebrow. “He’s a dick and a douchebag. We don’t need to know him to know that. Everyone thinks so. Go on. Ask anyone.” She smirked with satisfaction. “They’ll tell you the exact same thing.”

The girl that first spoke piped up. “We honestly don’t understand how you’re with him. I mean, do you seriously love that?” She sounded disgusted and right now there was nothing else you’d like to do more than to help her get rid of that expression. But you weren’t a violent person. At least not when you could avoid it.

“Now listen and listen closely.”, you growled, trying to stop your teeth from grinding long enough to speak what was on your mind. Rage was bubbling dangerously close to your vocal cords and while you might not regret what you’d say, you definitely didn’t want to start an even bigger fight.

When you were sure that you had their attention you took a deep breath and uncrossed your arms. “Yes, I do seriously love him. And I don’t give a single shit if you think badly about it. Cause honestly? When you love someone, you just don’t stop. Ever. Even when people roll their eyes or call you crazy… even then. Specially then!”

You waved a hand in their direction, turning around to go to the door. “But you wouldn’t understand. Seeing as no one would even want to try to love you with that attitude.”

Looking over your shoulder you grinned, seeing their pissed off but silent forms. “It’s kind of sad actually.”

You closed the door behind you and took a deep breath, trying to calm the burning hate you felt for their simple minds and their big and loud mouths and their fucking nerves because fuck, didn’t they have better hobbies than-

“So that’s what you do when I’m not around.”

Yelping you whirled around and smacked Tsukishima in the same move. “I told you to not scare me like that.”

“I just came to say hello to my girlfriend.”

You could practically taste the sarcasm on your tongue and you didn’t appreciate it after having to deal with dumb, dumber and dumbest.

“You know, I spend too much time with you. I think your salt is contagious.”

He smirked. “Glad we’re finally starting to be on the same intellectual level then.”

Rolling your eyes you brought a hand up to his uniform and tugged him down to your level. “If this is what I get for defending you I might just let them trash talk you next time.”

“You can have more of this if you want.”

I Hate That I Love You - Fred Weasley Imagine

-Requested-

~
Could I request a Fred imagine where you and Fred have never really gotten along (mostly due to the fact you fancied each other) but you stay at the burrow for Christmas because you’re close with Ginny. You and Fred get caught in a door frame together and George puts some mistletoe above. They share a kiss and act disgusted by it but later on when everyone’s asleep you go down to get some tea and Fred’s down there. Some type of argument happens and feelings are confessed?Thank you so much love!
~

~A/n: I know Christmas is way past! I’m sorry for the long wait! Please forgive me!

~(Y/n)’s POV~

I hate Fred. Wait. Do I really hate him? Or is it my feelings that’s fogging up the picture. It seems like I hate him but truly beneath all my hatred towards him I actually like him. I think we don’t get along well because I thought he would never like me back the way I liked him and that thought became more bitter by the second. So, I guess that’s the answer, right? I hate him because I think he’ll never love me. I hate him because I love him so much and that he’s too oblivious to see it. Or is it my mind playing tricks. Do I really like Fred Weasley? What’s there to like? His big brown eyes? His pink lips that always seemed to be shaped into a smirk? The way his hair is always messy and a shade of vibrant red? If I do like him, what do I do? Flirt and twirl my hair when I’m around him? No! So, basically I don’t know what to do. The only thing I know how to do to him is be mean and rude and that’s what I get in return from him.

I zipped up my bag, and threw the strap over my shoulder. I may not get along with Fred, but I sure do with the other Weasley’s. Ginny is my best friend basically kinda like my sister, I would do anything for her because she’s been there for me since day one. So when she asked if I can come and stay with her and her family for Christmas break it literally took my three days to choose. I wasn’t thinking about Mr. And Mrs. Weasley, or George or Ginny or Ron. I was thinking about Fred. Am I really ready to stay in the same household as Fred, my enemy, my crush? Am I willing to be nice just to make a good impression of myself or am I willing to be good just to get Fred to like me? I thought of a million questions but I just couldn’t seem to find an answer for any of them. When Fred’s around me, he makes me feel something in my stomach. Butterflies is what many people call it. Love is complicated for me, I just don’t know what to do.

I meet up with Ginny down at the train station, where we loaded our luggages onto the train. We luckily had a compartment all to ourselves, we sat down and started to talk, about nothing in particular. I turned my head towards the window that showed the hall of the train and which also showed the Weasley Twins passing by. I saw that Fred was giving me a glare and once he was out of sight, I started to blink back tears. Am I really that mean to him? Did I really do a lot, for him to do that to me? I looked down at my hands and saw tears falling onto my lap. “(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” Ginny asked “Um… Nothing. I - I just need to go to the bathroom. Excuse me.” I sniffled wiping my tears away before standing and opening the compartment door. I look to the right because that’s the way I have to go if I wanna use the bathroom, more tears fall down my cheeks when I see Fred and George talking near the bathroom doors. I slowly walk up to the bathroom doors, George looks at me worriedly but it’s not compared to Fred’s at all. A huge look of worry was written on his face, a hint of sadness in his eyes. I touched the knob but it didn’t turn.

Someone else was already in there. I looked down and waited my turn, not wanting to make eye contact with Fred. “(Y/n), what’s wrong?” Fred asked “N-Nothing’s W-Wrong” I cried expecting my words to come out as a whisper but it ends up being a cry. Fred touches my shoulder and I flinch violently away “P-Please don’t t-touch me” I sucked in a harsh breath wiping my tears away before looking up at the bathroom sign on the door. The door opened and a 1st year Hufflepuff girl skipped out “(Y/n)!” Fred said loudly before I slammed the bathroom door shut. I slowly slid to the ground and buried my head deep into my knees. I heard rapid knocking “(Y/n)! Open the door!” Fred’s voice said coming from the other side of the door. “Go away!” I sobbed, I began to cry even more when he violently tried to turn the knob and open the door. “(Y/n)!” He said angrily knocking on the door even harder than before making me scream and cry out in fear due to his violent actions. “Fred! Calm down!” I heard George’s voice “She wants to be alone right now” I heard Fred sigh deeply before I heard a pair of footsteps walk away. I grabbed some toilet paper and wiped my tears away, I opened the door and made my way back to the compartment.

Ginny kept asking me what’s wrong but I kept saying the same lie over and over again. “Nothing’s wrong” I would say, but really everything was wrong. The person that I like tried to talk to me but I pushed him away. Am I scared to get my heart broken? Or am I trying to stop myself from falling too deep in love? We finally make it to King’s cross station I take a deep breath once I step onto the platform. I see Mr. And Mrs. Weasley waving at me, I smile and make my way towards them. I hug them tightly as they do the same, I go to the back of the group as Mr. And Mrs. Weasley hug their children but one ginger is missing. Fred. I felt someone grab my wrist firmly making me face them, it was Fred. He grabbed both of my wrist and held them in front of him “We need to talk” he said in a serious tone “I don’t want to talk!” I said angrily trying to pull my wrists out of his tight grip “(Y/n), what’s your problem?” He said angrily “You! Your my problem! Why can’t you leave me alone!” I whispered trying to not make a scene in front of everyone. Fred let’s go of my wrists slowly but still watches me intently. A stray tear slowly falls down my cheek, I didn’t mean anything I just said. Fred wasn’t the problem, I was the problem.

We make it to the Burrow but the ride was driving me insane. Fred kept watching me as if he were a robot, so I kept my eyes on the floor of the car. I entered the house to see it entirely decorated with Christmas decor. I like Christmas and the Weasley’s had just made it better for me. I make my way towards the staircase that leads up to Ginny’s room but stop once I notice that my shoes untied. I tie my shoe quickly and stand up but something was different because Fred stumbled in front of me, obviously someone pushed him towards me. “Look up!” Ginny said excitedly, Me and Fred both looked up slowly to see a mistletoe above us. I looked back at Fred “I don’t want to kiss him” I said plainly but in my mind I wanted to kiss him as if it were the last thing I’d ever do. We both looked to opposite sides of the room obviously not wanting to make eye contact with each other. “Oh come on!” Ginny exclaimed making me and Fred look back at each other. We took a deep breath in before slowly leaning in, I can feel Fred’s hot breath against my mouth. I close my eyes and slowly attach our lips together, sending a shock through my body. God, he was a good kisser. No lie. Instead of a quick kiss it turned into a kiss that felt like a million years. My hands had a mind of its own and gently placed themselves on Fred’s chest, while his hands slowly came up and cupped my face bringing me closer. A loud cough made up pull apart, it took us a few seconds to realize what we just did because after that few seconds we started to act disgusted. I wiped my tongue on my sleeve while Fred kept ‘Gagging’. Ginny rolled her eyes before dragging me up to her bedroom.

~Later That Night~

I currently lay on a thin mattress on the floor, looking up at the blank ceiling. Just Thinking. Thinking about Fred and that unforgettable kiss. Every time I close my eyes all I can see is Fred leaning in, I can feel his gently touch on my skin and his warm breath near my mouth. I sit up and see Ginny sound asleep, I slowly and quietly get off the mattress and tip toe downstairs. I was looking for some tea to hopefully try and get my memory off of Fred but instead I find something else. I see Fred sitting in front of the fire with a blanket wrapped around him. I try to pass him but I guess he has like werewolf hearing. “(Y/n), we need to talk” he said in a serious tone standing up “Fred. I don’t want to talk” I exclaimed looking away “Why not?! I’m just trying to be nice and talk about our problems!” He said a little louder his voice giving away the fact that he was obviously angry. “Nice?! You haven’t been nice to me! You treat me like crap!” I screamed “I only treat you like that because that’s how you treat me!” Fred exclaimed running a hand roughly through his red hair.

“Well I’m sorry!” I said sarcastically turning around to go back up to Ginny’s room “No! We’re not done talking!” He said angrily “I’m done!” I screamed “I hate… I hate…” I trailed off “You hate what?!” He yelled “I hate that I love you! That’s why I’ve been such a bitch towards you! I was always scared that you’ll break my heart, so that why I’m always mean. So that I won’t fall head over heels for you! But I guess it’s to late now! Because I’ve already fallen!” I screamed not believing what I just said. I looked to the side of the room not daring to make eye contact with Fred. I heard hurried footsteps, the next thing I knew was that Fred was kissing my roughly. His large hands going underneath my t-shirt touching my back, I jump up and wrap my legs around his waist while my hands cup his face deepening the kiss even more. I moaned in his mouth as he grabbed my butt squeezing it slightly, we both pulled back when Mr. And Mrs. Weasley came downstairs in a rush. They’re mouths were both open at the sight of Fred’s hands on my but with my legs around his waist. Fred slowly sets me down onto my feet. That night me and Fred had a talk about sex and protection from Mr. And Mrs. Weasley.

~~Kristian

•Sorry for the very crappy ending! But, I hope everyone’s having a lovely day today!•

Sleepless Nights Pt. 6 (Newt x Reader)

Chapter 6

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

Dedication: @thesniffler @i-ship-it-ironically @rosiebeck @macyl0819 @internetoverdose01
a/n: I’m aware Tina probs wouldn’t do something like this. But, firstly, anger, rejection, and jealousy makes people do strange things. Secondly, it’ll make sense later on.

Word count: 2100+
Warnings: jealousy, angst, slight cussing (I cried while writing this towards the end)

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The next few days passed quietly, the house unusually silent and tense. Queenie avoided you a lot, which made sense because the scene between you and Newt kept running vividly through your mind. You could still feel his lips pressed against you, fingers running along your skin, teeth scraping and tongue soothing.

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