it's not my imagination there is a gun in my back

Best Lines From Each Hamilton Song

Alexander Hamilton: You could never back down, you never learned to take your - TIME

Aaron Burr, Sir: Talk Less. Smile More.

My Shot: I think ya pants look hot ;)

The Story of Tonight: Raise a glass to freedom…

Schuyler Sisters: You want a revolution? I want a revelation!

Farmer Refuted: Is he in Jersey?

You’ll Be Back: I will kill your friends and family… to remind you of, my, love DA DA DA D-

Right Hand Man: Burr! Sir? Close the door on your way out.

Winters Ball: If you could marry a sister, you’re rich son. Is it a question of if Burr, or which one?

Helpless: Laughing at my sister cause she wants to form a harem: I’m just saying if you really loved me you would share him. HA!

Satisfied: … He’d be mine. She would say “I’m fineshe’d be lying.

The Story of Tonight (Reprise): You are the worst, Burr

Wait For It: When they died they left no instructions, just a legacy to protect 

Stay Alive: I’m a general. WEEE!!

Ten Duel Commandents: Okay so we’re doing this

That Would Be Enough: And if this child shares a fraction of your smile, or a fragment of your mind, look out world, that would be enough.

Guns And Ships: No one has more resilience or matches my practical tactical BRILLIANCE.

History Has Its Eyes On You: You have no control who lives, who dies, who tells your story.

Yorktown (The World Turned Upside Down): Immigrants, we get the job done.

What Comes Next: Awesome. Wow.

Dear Theodosia: I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll make a million mistakes.

Nonstop: Hamilton wrote THE OTHER FIFTY-ONE

What’d I Miss?: I guess I basically missed the late 80’s.

Cabinet Battle #1: Turn around, bend over, I’ll show you where my shoe fits.

Take a Break: You’ve written “My Dearest, Angelica…. “

Say No To This: That was my wife who you decided to- fuuu

The Room Where It Happens: The art of the compromise, hold your nose and close your eyes.

Schuyler Defeated: They don’t need to know me they don’t like you.

Cabinet Battle #2: You must be outta your GODDAMN MIND

Washington On Your Side: SOUTHERN MOTHERFUCKING DEMOCRATIC REPUBLICANS!!!

One Last Time: I’m sorry wha-?

I Know Him: They will tear each other into pieces, Jesus Christ this will be fun :D

Adams Administration: Siddown John YOU FAT MOTHER——

We Know: My god…

Hurricane: … We were sick and she was holding me, I couldn’t seem to die.

The Reynolds Pamphlet: You could never be satisfied, god I hope your satisfied.

Burn: You, you, you

Blow Us All Away: Everything is legal in New Jersey…

Stay Alive (Reprise): I know, you did everything just right.

It’s Quiet Uptown: Forgiveness. Can you imagine?

The Election of 1800: Well I’ll be damned…

Your Obedient Servant: Here’s an itemised list of thirty years of disagreements. Sweet Jesus

The World Was Wide Enough: America, you great unfinished symphony, you sent for me.

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story: Oh I can’t wait to see you again, it’s only a matter of time.


Bonus Songs:

Congratulations: You know why Jefferson can do what he wants? He doesn’t dignify schoolyard taunts with a response

Dear Theodosia (Reprise): We bleed and fight for you, sometimes it seems that’s all we do.

Ten Things, One Thing (I genuinely can’t decide between these five so here you go):

- The sun is in my eyes. I am almost giddy as I watch it slowly rise over my New York City.

- I examine the gun that we shared. Philip never hurt a soul, he must have been so scared.

- I feel a sense of calm fill me, it’s not in his political interest to kill me.

- My Eliza is still asleep. I left her a letter, I could have written it better.

- They put us through our paces, we count to ten. God, I can’t wait to see her again.


Just a quick note to say I didn’t forget Tomorrow There’ll Be More of Us, I just decided against including it because, in Lin’s own words, it’s more of a scene than a song. Really it’s just the The Story of Tonight sung over some quite, uneventful dialouge (very poetic given the content of that dialouge) so I decided to just leave it out. Anyways thanks for reading my random post I guess? Bye bye

Let Me Protect You - Mitch Rapp

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Mitch Rapp/Reader

Word Count: 11,337

Warnings: WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN? 18+, NSFW, Oral (both receiving), Orgasm Denial, Multiple Orgasms, Daddy Kink, Shower Sex, Wall Sex, Bondage, Mitch’s Scruff, Mitch’s sexy ass arms and muscles and abs and face and MITCH’S ENTIRE BEING

Notes: Holy. Shit. It’s long overdue but THAT WORD COUNT??? I am dying inside from this. I hope you dirty people like this. Please let me know because this literally killed me inside to write. 

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The Reunion

Originally posted by lovelynemesis

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!Reader - Avengers x female!Reader

Request: Hey Bae 😚 would you like to do an imagine where you were Buckys wife in the 40s and after he got taken by Hydra you went through the same fate. Now 70 years later they found you during a mission captured and take you to the compound. Bucky feels overly happy but fears you won’t recognise him, but you do. So over the time you slowly get along with the new life and also your feelings for Buck didn’t change, you just experience a more intense love life 😉 this would be great & some smut hehe -anon

Warnings: Smut/NSFW (18+) - fingering and oral (female receiving) - some language - a wee bit o’ angst

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: College is really stressful and I’ve had such a bad mental week, it’s been great. Any ways, here’s some good ol’ smut! There’s plenty more where this came from, so I hope it’s what you were searchin’ for. Requests/asks are still open, so feel free to drop somethin’!


Bucky’s P.O.V.

Y/N. Her name was Y/N.

It’s missions that this that remind me of her. The flakes falling around us bitterly kiss my face as Steve and I trudge through endless mounds of snow, heading for the large, rusted metal door embedded in the rough stone of the mountain. This is where I was kept under HYDRA control - where my previous life has ended and this new one began.

Y/N was my comfort - she kept me grounded. We had first met during a night-out in the city. I had convinced Stevie to go to a club with me, and she was the first woman I saw when I stepped into the dim room. We spent the whole night drinking and chatting, and by the end of the night, I knew she was the one that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with - I just never knew our time together would be so short.

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You Understand Right? (Part 2): What Happened?

Characters: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader / Friend!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader / Friend!Reader, Bobby Singer

Length: 1294+ words

TW: Suicide. Depression. Abandonment. Character Death. 

A/N: There was so much interest in continuing this fic! I am so glad you guys enjoyed it, and I really wasn’t expecting this to become a series! Feedback is encouraged!

SERIES MASTERLIST


“Dammit, Y/N! Don’t you dare hang up the phone! What the hell do you mean?!” Dean paced around his motel room, running his fingers through his hair continuously. They had just wrapped up a case in Nebraska, and was planning on visiting Bobby for some down time. Sam reminded his older brother that they haven’t seen Y/N in over several months, and he had been missing her.

“I understand, Dean,” she answered vaguely. Dean’s heart was thumping against his chest, as he tried to understand her message.

“What- What is it, sweetheart? What do you understand?” He started throwing clothes into his duffel bag, knocking on the bathroom door where Sam was currently showering.

“You and Sam need each other… But you don’t need me.” With that, she hung up.

“Y/N? Y/N?” Dean shouted into the phone, knowing that it would be futile. “Fuck.” He hung up his phone, and knocked louder against the bathroom door. “Sam! Get your ass out here.”

Sam opened the door with only his jeans, his face lined with annoyance. “The fuck Dean?”

“We’re leaving NOW!”

“What’s going on? Did you talk to Y/N?” Sam quickly put on his shirt, seeing the gravity of the situation in Dean’s eyes.

“Yea, but she kept saying things,” Dean answered vaguely, shaking his head as he continued to pack their stuff. 

“What did she say?”

“She kept saying how she understands- how she knows that we needed each other, but we don’t need her.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Why makes her think that? She knows we love her.”

“I have a bad feeling about this, Sam. C’mon.”

Both brothers made their way to Bobby’s house with tension between them. The four-hour trip only lasting 3 hours with Dean’s driving. Nothing else had been said. Nothing else needed to be said. Not until they find Y/N, hopefully alive. 

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I’m not sure why I hate the epilogue of Harry Potter so much, but I always imagine Harry getting completely BORED of normal life a year into it. He can’t handle it. His life has always been filled with trouble, kind of like Lord Tennyson’s view of Ulysses, and he goes stir-crazy, engaging in reckless behaviour almost daily. Hermione is worried sick because it’s causing Harry and Ginny to fight. ‘You got through all you went through in your 19 years just to kill yourself on some bloody dare?!’

Draco Malfoy shows up on Hermione’s twentieth birthday with a story of how he can’t handle how he was a coward and talks of how he killed a demon that tried to devour an old lady on the outskirts of muggle London. He says he wants to do this again; the thrill of it was amazing but he needs a partner or two. Harry and Hermione are all for it. Hermione, too, has grown tired of the Ministry life. After all, she has already secured rights for elves and goblins if they want them; that only took her a year. Hunting evil things is appealing, and she’ll be helping not only the wizarding community but the non-magical one as well.

Ginny is furious and leaves Harry for Blaise Zambini. Ron is not keen on more adventure, either. He decides he would rather help George at the joke shop than work with a Malfoy, although he, Harry, and Hermione will stay in touch. ‘Write to me every week,’ he threatens, ‘or else.’

Harry, Hermione, and Draco go on to live their lives doing the things Gilderoy Lockhart only claimed to do: battling demons, ghosts, poltergeists, sirens, urban legends, vampires, and more –all with a magical tent and three wands instead of a Chevy Impala and guns.

They call on Luna Lovegood whenever they encounter a creature they know next to nothing about, pop in on the Weasleys from time to time, and even allow Ginny to write books of their travels based on Hermione’s obsessive journal-keeping.

They become animagi. Hermione watches in surprise as her patronus changes into something unexpected. To her utmost delight, they learn about different forms of magic, even gain new magical abilities whenever they encounter a wise tutor well-versed in the more obscure magical arts.

Odd things happening while on the road are completely normal: one time, this crazy drunk American fangirl dressed up like Supergirl, who went by the name of Charlie Bradbury, latched onto Hermione’s back like koala bear when they were investigating a case at Comic-Con and wouldn’t let go, proclaiming as loud as that Banshee that one time in Ireland that Hermione was her idol, and that she was so glad she didn’t actually marry Ron.

'She reminds me of you when you were around Gilderoy Lockhart,’ Harry had said with great fondness afterwards. The backhand he took to the gut and death glare from his best friend, he thought, were completely worth it. 'Look at it this way, Hermione, she was so drunk she got a Princess Leia tattoo. She won’t remember anything.’

Imagine Hermione frustrated and flustered with her head in her hands as Harry and Draco’s school rivalry almost cost them their lives yet again. Then, she loses her temper, and both boys shrink back in fear. 'Has she always been this scary?’ Draco mutters out of the corner of his mouth to which Harry can only nod furiously. The disappointment the both of them feel is almost childlike. Draco and Harry become very close. Killing creatures will bond even the worst enemies together.

It changes Draco. All of his prior prejudice is smashed having spent so much time with his childhood rivals, and he becomes a much better person for it. Harry is reminded of Snape, and how Dumbledore once voiced he thought they sorted too early. Maybe Draco belonged in Gryffindor, too. Though the pain etched deep within Draco is visibly fading, it will never go away completely, and Harry often wonders what would have happened had he been sorted into Gryffindor with them.

Harry, however, is fully satisfied in that moment. They are in the middle of a hunt. Sitting against the front of the tent in a small forest on the east border of Paris, Harry lets out a long sigh. It is the first time he feels truly at ease in a while. Adjusting his glasses, he takes in the loving and relaxing company of two of his closest friends.

Draco is fiddling with the old radio, and tears of laughter escape Hermione as she reads. This is a normal night for all of them. 'Albus Severus?!’ she hollers, unable to keep her grip on the novel that has her undivided attention. The pumkin-coloured book falls, still open, flat on her stomach, and she dissolves completely into a fit of giggles. 'Muggles have quite the imagination these days, don’t they, Harry?’

'It’s not that bad of a name,’ Draco says, rolling his eyes. He turns the dial on the radio, and a hauntingly familiar tune sounds through it. His annoyed frown is replaced by a smirk, 'Your song is playing, you two.’

Harry can’t help but snort. Hermione throws a sarcastic remark towards Draco over the name Scorpious, before Harry finds himself being dragged to his feet by his childhood friend. Green eyes meet brown ones with a grin. They can’t not dance to 'Oh Children.’

Holding Hermione’s body close to him and swaying to the music under the stars, not all that different from the time they did a little over five years ago, he knows he made the right choice in going on the road. He is drinking life to the lees. This brilliant life with all its scars, beauty, and constant excitement is magical. It has made everything well again.

—  Non-Canon Epilogue : Drinking Life to the Lees
Was I a good Sister?

Characters - Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester

Warning - Swearing, angst, character death

“Y/n! SHOOT NOW” I heard my father voice yell at me so I took my aim at the werewolf heart and tried to fire but I then realised that my gun was jammed! “oh no” I whispered

I saw the werewolf advance towards my elder brother and it threw him across , I watched in shock when his body slammed into the tree, the werewolf turned towards me but my gun was still jammed, I tried to shoot him but it wasn’t working just when then I heard a loud bang from behind me and I saw the werewolf fall to the ground, I turned around and saw my other elder brother Sam.

My father suddenly appeared in my view and ran towards Dean, me and Sam followed him, we dropped on our knees around where Dean lay unconscious. I tried to caress his forehead to inspect the damage when my father shoved my hand away.

“Don’t you dare touch him! ”,he snarled.

He then looked at Dean and tried to find if he had any serious injury on him. I looked at Sam but he was too focused on Dean. I then felt my cheek burn severely and loud resounding slap could be heard across the forest. I realised then that my father had hit me and he had me so hard that I was lying on the ground. I definitely had a bruise now.

“Dad, what the hell was that!? ” I heard Sam shout but my dad just glared at him and then at me, he shook his head in anger dropped down so he could swing dean’s arm around his shoulder.

Sam who was staring at his father in shock and anger immediately pushed his feelings aside and grabbed the other arm. They carried Dean this to the impala with me trailing behind him.

“y/n/n, go sit in the backseat and then we will lay him down” I nodded slowly and did as Sam said, the entire time I could feel my dad’s eye on me.

The ride to the isolated cabin was extremely quiet, I kept caressing Dean’s forehead and his hair and I kept on whispering “ I am sorry, I am so sorry ” and the tears trailed down my face.

Sam’s POV

I heard my little sister sniffling in the backseat and comforting my elder brother while saying sorry. It literally broke my heart to see her so upset. All I wanted to do was hug her tightly and tell her everything was going to be okay but if I say something now I know my father will be even more furious, I still cannot believe that he had hit her.

We reach the cabin and take Dean inside, we inspect him and wonder if any serious injury has taken place but he was just knocked out , I look over at my little sister and see that she was standing at door with an expression of fear plastered over her face. I smile at her but she doesn’t smile back.

After tending to Dean my father walks out of the room but not before he take Y/n’s arm in vicious grip, I spare my brother one look and walk out of the door.

Y/n’s POv

“what the hell were you doing?!
“I.. ”
“You could have gotten your brother killed you irresponsible idiot, why can’t you do anything properly?! ”
“Dad just listen to her”
“You stay out of this Sam, it does not concern you, we could have lost Dean because of her, you are the reason that your brother is in there….. Hurt”
“But dad.. ”
“JUST SHUT UP! I can’t even bare to look at you, my son is hurt because of you, you are an ungrateful, irresponsible and disgusting sister and I can’t even call you my daughter ”

That was it. This sentence did it for me, I was in pain ,not the physical kind the other one the one where your heart feels heavy and it hurts, I looked at my father with tears in my eyes but I would not let them drop.

“what the hell is wrong with you dad, why can’t you just listen to her, who says that to their own child?!”

My dad didn’t answer my brother he just walked out the door, Sam then removed his attention from John and then kneeled down so he could be of my height, he kept both his hands on my shoulders and looked me straight in the eye.

“hey, listen to me sweetie don’t you dare even for a moment think that you are not a good sister, you are the most amazing, beautiful kind girl in the whole world and me and Dean love you so so so so much! ”

I looked him in the eye but I did not have the strength to reply so I just went back to the room where Dean was sleeping.

Sam’s POV

I watched my little sister walk back in the room, I was so shocked to hear my father say such horrible things to a 13 year old girl.
I went in the room and saw that she was covering Dean up with a blanket she then sat at the edge of the pushed his hair back and kissed him on the forehead.

My heart melted right there, how could my father say such horrible things to someone as sweet as her, I just couldn’t resist so I walked up behind her and put my arms around,she turn around and put her arms around my waist and her face towards me, I hugged her for a while but then I felt her shoulders shake I looked down and saw that she was sobbing her little heart out so I kneeled down again so I could be of her level and then hugged her tightly.

“I am sorry, I am so sorry”, she said this while hiccuping in between her sobs.

“I can’t lose you or Dean, I love you too much, I am sorry ” I knew I couldn’t say anything to comfort her so I picked her up and carried to my bed, we are used to sharing beds so I lay her down and I lay down beside her I put my arm around her and gently stroke her back soon she is fast asleep.

Y/n’s POV
I wake up the next morning to see that my Sam was sleeping beside me softly snoring , I looked on the other side and saw that Dean was also sleeping, so I got up and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. When I came back I saw that Dean was starting to wake up.

“Hey Dean, can you wake up? ”, he groaned but slowly opened his eyes
“hey, how are you feeling? ”
“Ummm…. Extremely sore”
“well you were thrown into a tree so that is to be expected I guess”

“Wait, what the hell happened? Are you okay? ”

“Yea bro, Everyone is good, you were the only one who was hurt”

I grabbed his medicine from the side table and then got him a glass of water.

“Here you go”
“Thanks sweetheart, you know you always take such good care of us”

My smile wavered a bit as I remembered last night’s events but I didn’t let the sadness or the immense guilt I was feeling come to my face. I then took both his hands pulled him in a sitting position.

“you can use the shower and have a good long bath”
“Thanks sweetie ” he said looking at me but then his smile turned into a frown and his hand went to touch my cheek.
“Did the werewolf get you or something? ”
“No why? ”
“You have bruise on your face”
I immediately felt extremely tense but then I just brushed it off and then walked to the living room. I saw John sitting over there with a pen and newspaper he looked towards me and said
“We are going on a hunt tonight.”
“What? What about Dean”
“Your will brother will not go obviously ”
“Dean is not going to agree to that ”
“Just be ready, there were not ONE but TWO werewolf but because of you we could not kill it last night so I suggest do as I ask”.

Later that night.
Dean had thrown a bitch fit and was here saying he was fine and will not be left at home. I had persuaded Sam to not tell Dean anything now, but we could do it after the hunt. I had rechecked my guns atleast 10 times to make sure it wasn’t jammed.

We walked through the jungle looking for the wolf, but it had seemed like hours had passes but we still had no clue where it was.

I still don’t know how I saw but I did, the werewolf was standing behind Dean, it had raised its claw to strike at my brother but I pushed my brother put of the way and felt it claws go deep in my stomach.

Dean’s PoV

I saw in astonishment as my little sister pushed me out of the way and the werewolf impaled her in stomach. I raised my gun and shot him straight in the heart, the werewolf fell down with a thud.

I looked down at my little sister who was bleeding from the stomach profusely, I picked her up and put her head in my lap, I then felt Sam and Dad running towards us.

“De it hurts a lot ” she cried
“Shhhh sweetheart, don’t worry everything is going to be okay you are going to live and we are going to talk about cutting Sammy’s hair in sleep and well pranking people and making them annoyed”

My sister shook her head and coughed and I saw the blood trickle out of her mouth so I wiped it away with my thumb
“ I am not going to make it, I know it” she croaked
“No y/n/n don’t you dare say that ”, Sam said in a crying voice “ you our baby sister we need to here, I love you so much”
“You heard Sam sweetheart, you can’t go we need you here:

But she ignored us and then asked in a croaked voice
“Was I a good sister? ”
And then both me and Sam just broke, both of us had tears running down our check so we each grabbed her hand I said

“oh yes sweetie, you are amazing sister and I love you so so so much” I then looked at my dad who was standing with an emotionless expression. Y/n looked at all of us “ I love you. ALL OF you I am going to miss you and I am glad I saved you dean”

Saying this my baby sister took her last breaths and then her head just fell sideways, he beautiful eyes were now not looking at anything.
So I put an arm around Sam and pulled him close and cradled my baby sister in my other arm. Oh god I will never see her smile, never kiss her while she was sleeping, never see her taking care of us, never take care of her she is just gone.

My father then came next to us and said “I am sorry baby girl please come back”

And at that time all we wanted was our little baby sister to come back but I knew she wouldn’t listen because she can’t, thinking about this we cried and screamed at the sky above us.

@winchesters-favorite-girl @u-snavi @dreamin-of-somewhere-else @blacktithe7

@straightasdeanwinchester @percussiongirl2017 @peachwizard @spnsisimagines @nickiwinchester97
When He’s Distracting
  • “I am NOT needy” he says as he shuffles closer to you and starts to play with your hair
  • tries to just sit in the same room as you when your busy but you’re actually just gonna do work and not make out with him???
  • “hey”
  • “hey”
  • “have you seen this?”
  • “what are you doing?”
  • “guess what harrison said to me today…”
  • “darling listen to me”
  • “please it’s really important”
  • but some how you’re still doing work and dismissing him with a “not now babe”
  • so it’s time to pull out the big guns and he strips his shirt off with a comment like “a bit hot in here, isn’t it?” and he can’t help but notice your eyes flick up at his torso, your tongue darting out to wet your lips
  • but somehow your resolve holds so he grabs a seat next to you and starts to pull you on his lap
  • “you can keep working just do it sitting on my lap”
  • and its been less than five minutes and he BORED and you’re still not paying attention!!!
  • “GOD how can you be reading?!”
  • he nuzzle his nose into your shoulder, presses his face into your back, leave little kisses on the nape of your neck
  • starts breathing over your ears, tickling you so you squirm and he can finally wrangle your laptop or book out of your hands
  • “MINE AT LAST!” he yells triumphantly and hugs you too him
  • “okay, okay. five minutes”
  • “uh huh, five minutes, love.” he smirks, helping you switch around so your straddling him
  • “I mean it!” you warn before kissing him
  • and suddenly its been 30 minutes and when you check the clock your eyes bug out and his grins at you
  • “muahahahahahahaha” he’ll laugh devilishly before pulling you back into a kiss
Negan Imagine ~ Out of the blue

When Negan first visits Alexandria he takes a liking in the heavily pregnant reader and shows a whole different side of him when its suddenly gets really tough for her…

Requested

Originally posted by aliciasdaryl

The sun was shining brightly while you sat on the porch of your house while you sat in the rocking chair swinging slightly back and forth as you saw Rick coming towards you.
”Feeling better?”, he asked as he walked the stairs up.
Your pregnancy had been everything else than easy.
Shortly after you had noticed it, the problems had began and while you had thought that it would stop after the first months it got even worse.
You could be glad that you were in Alexandria, had medicine and wouldnt have to fear that the baby would come while a hoard of walkers could show up around every corner.
”A bit. The fresh air is doing a good job”, you said smiling at him while he pulled some tablets out of his pockets.
”I was told to give them to you”, he said laying the tablets into your hands.
You looked at Rick while he sat down next to you in another rocking chair.
His face was pale, he looked like he hadnt slept in days and his eyes looked like he would begin to cry in every next second.
It was just days ago you had seen your friends coming back, their faces completely distraught and filled with grief.
Their eyes still red and swollen from crying.
It still felt unreal that they were gone and you wished that they would come back, even if you knew they wouldn’t.
You weren’t with them when this man, this monster, killed them.
You were in Alexandria, keeping everything as good together as you could while Rick was gone.
You had almost come with them, but Gregory opposed to let two pregnant women live at Hilltop and you knew that you would let Maggie go when he announced that to Rick.
You had a break of your problems in that time and you would have never taken the place while seeing how bad she felt.
But the hard pregnancy wasnt the only thing Maggie and you shared.
The father of your child wouldnt ever get the chance to see his child grow up, just like Glenn.
He had died shortly before you met Aaron who brought you to Alexandria and also shortly before you found out that you were pregnant.
”Wont be long until its coming, huh?”, Rick asked smiling slightly while nodding over to your belly.
”By what the Doctor at hilltop calculated the last time, it has to be about two weeks, maybe a bit less left”, you said smiling back.
You looked back onto the street and saw how Rosita walked towards your house and looked up to Rick and you.
“Rick? I’ll go with Spencer on a run. Just wanted you to know”, she said into your direction.
“Alright”, responded Rick nodding before just minutes after Rosita had vanished you heard noises coming from the gates you couldnt match to Rosita and Spencer.

You walked behind Rick in the direction of the gates and could already see from afar that Spencer and Rosita werent alone and that the man behind the gates was no one else than the man your friends had told you of with shook in their voices
Negan.
He was standing there, with the baseball bat that had killed your friends over his shoulder while he talked to Spencer.
“You’re too early”, said Rick while he walked closer towards Negan.
“Missed you”, Negan said chuckling with a weird grin on his lips.
You surveyed him while he talked to Rick.
He was tall, his dark hair was gelled back, his lips that still formed that grin were surrounded with a salt and pepper beard and his eyes were gleaming.
And this pair of eyes suddenly darted directly at you while their gleam increased.
His glance stayed on you and caught your eyes and didnt let them go for moments until he looked grinning back to Rick.
Your glance went behind him were you saw how Daryl stood within Negans army.
He looked horrible, clothed in some kind of sack looking stuff and his face was swollen and covered with bruises.
God what had they done with him?

You got ripped out of your thought by the squeaking of the gates and saw how Negan walked grinning inside.
“Hold that”, muttered Negan grinning to Rick before walked towards you.
“Holy crap Darling, you are really pregnant like holy shit…and by the way also fucking pretty”, he said smirking as he walked closer while his eyes didn’t leave yours letting a shiver run down your back. 
He looked on some exaggerated kind of way around as if he was searching for somebody before he looked back at you. 
“You know Sweetie, you really deserve fucking better. If I’d be your fucking man I wouldn’t leave your fucking side…especially not in your circumstances”, he said grinning at you. 
“He’s dead”, you hissed glaring at him. 
Negan formed an “Oh” with his lips which you werent really sure about if he was actually sorry or just being sarcastic. 
Seconds later he looked smirking at you, his tongue between his lips while he analyzed your face.
“Would you-”, started Rick to say but was directly interrupted by Negan. 
“No Rick. Would you fucking shut up while I’m talking to this beautiful lady?”, Negan said chuckling at Rick while he pointed at you. 
You nodded to Rick, trying to show him that everything was alright, another dispute here was the last thing you needed and wanted.
“So what’s your name, Darling”, he asked as he turned smirking back to you . 
“(Y/N)”, you said. 
“Thats some fucking beautiful name, Darling. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m Negan”, he said smirking while you just nodded trying to respond with an uninterested glance. 
“Sweetheart, Its a fucking shame that I gotta do some work here but I’d fucking love to spend some time with you when its done”, he said winking at you before he walked back to Rick who was still holding Negans bat in his hands.
“Didn’t know you have such treasures here”, you heard him chuckling say as he bowed down to Rick. 
Negan winked one last time at you before he and his men began to make their way through Alexandria.

You walked sighing through the streets, not really knowing what to do while you saw how the Saviors got everything out of the houses that seemed somehow useful to them, before you saw Carl walk into the provisional Hospital and decided to follow him into it.
But as you had already expected it, you and Carl werent alone for a long time.
You jolted up as you saw two men walking into the room and walked straight towards the cupboards with the medicine and began pulling everything inside their bags they could grab.
”You need to leave something here”, growled Carl while one of the men turned chuckling around.
”We don’t need to leave anything here”, he said before he turned back around again and grabbed some more tablets.
“Don’t you see that she’s pregnat? She needs the medicine”, said Carl his voice already trembling though anger.
“Kid, do you think we care about that? ‘Cause surprise surprise, we don’t”, said the man chuckling darkly.
“The deal was half of it, not all”, you said calmly but still tensed.
The man turned around and looked chuckling at you.
“The thing is, what you say doesn’t matter. Not at all”, he said grinning at you. You scoffed but before you could continue you saw how Carl raised his gun.
“Deal is Deal”, growled Carl as the man turned around to him.
“Come on Kid, put that gun down you won’t shoot anyway”, said the other man grinning.
In the same moment Carl pointed at the ceiling and pulled the trigger producing a loud shot.
“I’m serious”, Carl growled before he continued.
“Now put them back”, Carl threatened while you saw two figures coming in through the door.
Rick and Negan.
Negans glance wandered from Carl to you and back before he turned around to him.
“Wow, really Kid?”, Negan asked chuckling.
“You should all go before you find out how dangerous we all are”, growled Carl, the gun still raised.
“Well, pardon me, young man. Excuse the sit out of my goddamn french but did you just fucking threaten me?”, asked Negan pointing at Carl who growled in response.
“I like you, so I don’t wanna go hard and prove a point here…again”, Negan continued while Carl finally lowered the gun.
“So whats the fucking problem, that Carl over here wants to shoot my men”, asked Negan raising his eyebrows.
“Your men want to take all the medicine and not the agreed half”, you said while Negan turned around to you by the sound of your voice.
He smirked while looking into your eyes, but just seconds later his glance got more serious before he turned around to his men.
“Alright…you leave the fucking medicine here”, he said shortly glancing at you and then back to his men.
“Everyth-”, began the shorter one to reply but got interrupted by Negan.
“Yeah fucking everything. But that doesnt change that this young man tried to cause some fucking trouble with one of my guns. So you know what I fucking guess Rick? I think you have way to many of my fucking guns”, he said looking over to Rick.
While Negan began to talk to Rick you felt how an unbearable pain shot through your body and made your legs feel like they couldn’t hold your body anymore. You heard how you gasped asyou stumbled backwards, while your eyes fluttered through the pain that just wouldn’t stop shooting through every inch of your body.
You felt how somebody grabbed you before you could stumble even more and how this person placed one hand on your back to stabilize you.
As you slowly looked up from your belly you didn’t saw into Ricks or Carl’s eyes, it were Negans.
“Holy crap Sweetheart are you alright?”, he asked looking at you while you tried to get your voice back.
“It’s coming”, was the only thing you could get out of your mouth before the pain shot again through your body.
Looking into his eyes you saw the shook in them, he swallowed hard and it seemed like he couldnt get a word out of his mouth.
You had made this man speechless for a moment.
You saw how he rallied himself , while you noticed that you had clawed your hands into the leather sleeves of his jacket.
Hell, why now?
Why?
Now when this man was here.
“Where’s your fucking doctor?”, Negan finally asked turning to Rick.
“Your men shot her some time ago”, you muttered before Rick could say anything.
Negan looked back at you while he breathed stressed out.
“Anybody else who knows how to deliver a fucking baby?”, he asked and you could hear that he tried to be as calm as he could.
You tired to get your pounding head to think about the people that could be in line for that.
Rosita was in the woods with Spencer.
She could be anywhere there.
The only one that came into your mind was Eric.
He had told you some time ago that he had assisted by one of the births while Pete had been the doctor here.
And that was better than nothing
“Maybe Eric, but I don’t know where he is”, you  said while your voice trembled.
“Okay Sweetheart, I’ll fucking stay here with you and we’re gonna bring this baby fucking healthy into the world, trust me”, he said still holding you tight before he ordered Rick to search for Eric.
“You’re not staying alone here with her”, said Carl suddenly glaring at Negan.
“Kid, do you really fucking think I’ll hurt her or what?”, Negan asked bewildered.
Carl scoffed while his glance gored through Negan.
“Alright, stay here or help your Dad search for that man, whatever”, Negan said before he looked back at you.
“Its too early, its coming too early”, you muttered trembling while you still tried to realize what was happening right now.
“Don’t worry Sweetheart. Its gonna be fucking alright”, Negan said stroking over your back.
He was calm now, or at least were good at pretending to be and with that, he surprised you.
Right now he wasnt that asshole, he was softer and more concerned than you ever thought this man could be.
Your legs began to become weak again and it seemed like Negan noticed that.
“I’ll get you to the cot”, you heard Negan mutter before he slowly lead you over to the cot.
Your legs trembled as you propped yourself against it and suddenly felt something wet running down your legs.
“Shit”, you muttered before you looked swallowing at Negan.
“Something wrong, Darling?”, you heard Negan ask with a concerned undertone.
“My water just broke”, you responded while you saw how Negan swallowed before he helped you get onto the cot
You laid there whille the pain of your first contraction decreased as Negan looked at you.
“Alright, we gotta get you out of those pants”, he said looking down on you before you slowly nodded.
Negan began gently slipping off your pants but as he went for your panties you jolted up by his touch.  
“Theres no reason to be shy, Sweetheart. Trust me, Ive already seen lady parts and I won’t touch you anywhere you don’t fucking want to”, he said.
”Okay”, you responed quietly nodding.
You looked over to Carl.
You could see that he tried his hardest to not let it show through how difficult this situation was for him.
You had been with them when Lori gave birth to Judith, had helped Maggie to get the baby out of Loris body and had seen how Carl had to see how his mother died.
And you had heard how he finally shot her.
If the situation right now sent you back to the moment his mom died through childbirth, then he would see the pictures before his eyes again also.
“Carl, you don’t have to stay if-”, you said but before you could go on Carl interrupted you.
“I’m staying”, he said determined while you heard Negan chuckle slightly.
You looked back at him, he had sat down on a chair and now he took your hand into his.
“What are you doing?”, you asked looking surprised at him.
“You’re gonna need something to fucking squeeze, right?”, he asked grinning.
That man that sat next to you, holding your hand had nothing in common with the man your friends had to met.
With the man that had bashed your friends heads.
And that confused you.
You didnt know how to get those two versions of him together.
How to see him anyways.
You were about to ask him why he was staying but you felt how everything in your lower stomach contracted again and the pain rushed through your whole body.
You began to tremble uncontrollably as your breath got faster and your heart pumped heavily against your chest while it felt like somebody was ripping your stomach.
The pain brought tears into your eyes and let them fall down your cheeks while you tried to not let the pain drive you insane.
You squeezed the living hell out of Negans hands while he stroke with his free hand over your lower arm, trying his best to help you through your pain.
Suddenly the door hit open and you saw how Eric rushed in, while you felt how the contraction got less strong again but left your body trembling.
“Rick told me-”, he said but suddenly stopped as he saw Negan sitting next to you while you saw how Negan began to grin.
Eric swallowed but walked then over to you.
“So you know how that whole fucking thing works?”, asked Negan looking at the swallowing Eric.
“I’m no doctor, but I helped once…I’ll try my very best", he said to Negan before his glance wandered over to you.
“Trust me”, Eric said while you responded with a nod because you couldn’t get a word out of your mouth.
You tried to calm yourself a bit down as the pain left your body, but you knew that it would come back, and that it would come back even worse.
You looked at your hand that was still grabbed tight around Negans and made his turn pale.
You shocked loosend your grip as you saw how hard you had squeezed it.
“No, no, its fucking okay, just keep doing it”, he said pulling your hand back into his after he had seen your glance.
“Thanks”, you forced with the last energy out of your trembling lips while he began letting his thumb circle soothing over the back of your hand.
“Any fucking time”, he said with a slight smile on his lips.
You stayed like that for not long until the next contraction started that was even worse than the others before and it just kept going like that.
Contraction.
Break.
Contraction.
Break and it just went on and on, while the breaks became smaller and the contractions so worse that you had the feeling that it would break your body.
You don’t know how long it went on like that but it felt like a eternity.
“Alright, (Y/N) you have to press”, said Eric and seemed to sound as calm as he could.
You followed his directions but it just felt like it helped nothing while the pain tortured you.
You heard Negan saying words and even if your pounding head and the gaze the pain had laid over you didnt let you hear what he was saying, his voice somehow calmed you a bit down.

The pain of the contraction finally decreased slowly and left you completely done.
Your ribcage went uncontrollably up and down and you felt as weak as never before.
“I don’t know how long I can go on”, you stumbled, your voice trembling almost as much as your whole body while you looked over to Negan.
“Alright, listen Sweetheart, you seem like a fucking brave and strong woman and I fucking bet you’ve went through a whole shitload of crap so you’ll fucking make it through this too”, Negan said calmly while he soothing squeezed your hand.
You nodded slowing your breath down and laying back into the pillow.
Suddenly Eric’s face went as white as a ghost.
“Whats wrong?”, you heard Negan ask concerned.
You looked to Eric and saw his hands and lower arms completely covered in blood while he stared swallowing over to Negan.
”I don’t think that much blood is normal”, it blustered out of his mouth while his eyes were widened.
Your breath got heavier again, while your body began shaking harder.
You didnt know what to do anymore.
Your head was muddled trough all the pain and your body felt like it couldnt take much more burden.
“What now?”, was the only thing you could get out of your mouth.
“I…I make it somehow happen..we have to go through this, theres no other way I can think of”, said Eric exhausted but still determined.
You saw yourself already dead, worse, your child dead and the thoughts of that made the panic increase and your eyes widened, while you began to quietly whimper.
“Shh, you’re doing a fucking great job (Y/N). You’re gonna make it through this, alright? We’re gonna deliver your baby fucking healthy, I fucking promise”, Negan said before he brought your hand to his face and brushed his lips over its back while his thumb kept circling soothing over it.
You tried to allow the feeling to calm you down, you didnt want the pain to take over your head even if it seemed often like it almost did.
And after a few moment his actions actually calmed you a little bit down before the next time wanted to test you again.
Eric did all he could.
Carl glanced supporting at you even if you saw how hard it was for him.
Negan kept sitting next to you, stood by your side the whole time, held your hand and somehow found the right words.
And you, you were trying your best to stay determined and not let the horrible pain get you down that kept trying to conquer your head after it had overtaken your body.
You don’t know how long it stayed like that.
How long the pain washed over you like a wave that tried to drown you again and again.
And even if it seemed almost impossible to you, Negan was definitely one of the reasons you could keep up.

You were almost completely down and out as you heard a scream and with that one moment you were complete awake again.
As your view began to be clear again was the first thing you saw Negan, his face turned away from you but you could still recognize how amazed and speechless he looked into a specific direction.
You followed his glance and saw how Eric walked towards you with a little body in his arms.
The little body of your baby.
As you felt how it was laid onto your chest, the feeling of pure happiness streamed through your whole body and seemed to wash all the pain out of it.
The last hours suddenly didnt matter anymore for now, they were more than worth it.
You looked at the little human that laid just covered by a small blanket in your arms while you felt how warm tears of happiness rolled down your cheeks.
After some time your glance went up and you saw into the faces of Carl, Eric and also Negan whose glances were directed on you and your child.
You smiled overjoyed and couldnt even stop doing so.
You were exhausted but you didnt care about that for now, you were just happy that your child laid healthy in your arms after that torture of birth.
You heard a knock on the door and just moments later a savior came in.
“Boss, the night has already descended. We should maybe leave…”, said the man with a nervous undertone.
“A third of you stay here with me over the night, the others leave. I don’t fucking care who… and now get the fuck out”, growled Negan before he looked back at you.
You looked asking at him before walked a bit towards you.
“Just wanna be on the fucking save side that you’re both doing well”, he said with a small smile on his lips.
It was not alike the saucy grin he had on face when you were standing by the gates, no, this time and also the whole time he was standing by your side it was a honest friendly smile you would never have expected from him.
You should hate him for what he had done and was still doing to your friends, but after these endless hours he had shown another side and you couldnt leave that side unnoticed.
Negan sat down next to you on the cot looked from you to your child after he had softly brushed a strand of hair out of your face.
“Thats some fucking miracle, huh?”, he said looking at the little bundle of joy in your arms.
“Yeah, it is”, you muttered smiling while you the hand of your baby wrapped around your finger.
“I’ll let you everything here you fucking need, you’re not gonna have to fucking worry about anything”, he muttered half in thoughts before he looked with a half smile up and you could see in his glance that he absolutely meant it.

That man who was a monster had also a humane side in him left you couldn’t deny and he didnt just proved it through the birth where he had stood by your side the whole time, he also stayed the whole night after it with you, making sure that you were alright.
You got to see this side of him even more and more and somehow, you seemed to let this side of him grow.

tagging: @myrabbitholetoneverland
(In case you wanna be added to any tag lists, just send a message)

Clubs and Blood

Request: jerome smut? where he gets incredibly jealous where it gets to the point where he kills the guy right in front of you thats been flirting with you all night? and then ends with angry passionate s m u t ?

•••••

Ahh I can’t believe this is happening! We never go out on a date! I jump up and down excited and curing my hair. I slip into my tight royal blue dress and accompany it with my black pumps.

I slide down the railing of the stairs to where Jerome waits in a nice outfit. “Looking handsome my man!” I say kissing his cheek. “And you look…delicious my doll!” He growls in my ear and kisses my neck biting it lightly. “Shall we?” Jerome asks a he opens the door for us to exit.

We make one of J’s henchmen drive us to the club. We walk in and I instantly feel my body moving to the music. “Dance with me J!” I say and attempt to pull him to the floor with me.

He scoffs and pulls his arm away. “I don’t know honey. You know this.” I cross my arms and pout slightly. “Fine.” I say and go by myself.

I sway my hips and make eye contact with J every second. I feel a body press up against me and pull my hips against theirs. Obviously a male. I turn around and smirk knowing this will make J angry. “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” He whispers to me; the sent of alcohol clear in his breath.

I grind up against him and smile at J. “Buy me a drink and maybe I’ll tell you.” The man looks me up and down and immediately leads me to the bar getting me a drink.

I look over once again to the booth Jerome is at. He just sits there sipping his whiskey and watches me like a hawk. Even when someone is talking to him. He still keeps his eyes on me.

The man passes me my drink and sits down at the bar. “So you gonna tell me now baby girl?” I giggle and take a swig of my drink loving the burning sensation moving its way down my throat. “Well you see that man over there? He look familiar to you?” I point the mans line of sight to Jerome who is talking to someone.

The mans mouth opens and his eyes go wide. “J-Jerome? The Jerome?” I shrug my shoulders. “He likes to be called Joker by the ones who fear him.” “Why would you be with him?” “He shows me a good time. Really gets me going.”

The man scoffs and grabs my ass pulling me closer. “I bet I could show you a better time.” Suddenly a glass flys between us and smashes on the wall.

The giggle of my sweetheart is heard a foot away making me smile. “Oh do you? You think you can get my little doll going more then I could huh? Think you can make her scream?” Jerome asks getting into the man drunken face. “N-no sir.” He stutters.

Jerome puts his hand behind his ear in a dramatic manner. “What was that? A man who thinks he’s better then me and a fibber? Hmm looks like we got to do something about that…well then.” Jerome immediately shoot the man in the head and laughs.

Jerome puts the gun under my chin lifting my head up. “Now you. What am I going to do to you (y/n)? Punishment has got to be presented, but not here.” Jerome snaps his fingers at his henchmen. “Bring the car around back. Then walk home. We’re gonna be a while.” Jerome says and drags me out the back entrance where the car now waits.

He opens the back door. “Get in baby.” I cross my arms. “And if I don’t?” I ask. Jerome puts his hand round my throat and the gun to my head. “Then you know what will happen. Now listen to me and get in.”

I gulp scared. He’s never threatened me to that extent before. Never has he had me at gun point. I crawl in the back followed by Jerome. “Touch yourself.” He says still pointing the gun at me.

Somehow I felt a little more aroused then I should be. Still scared out of my mind, but still turned on.

I’m never allowed to touch myself. One of Jerome’s rules. I spread my legs for him to see I’m not wearing any panties. “You naughty girl.” He breathes out and runs his own hand over the bulge in his pants.

I slip my hand down to my pussy and rub a single finger up and down my slit spreading the wetness. I proceed to slip a finger inside myself and pump slowly getting a rhythm started.

I add another finger and play with my clit throwing my head back in pleasure. “Oh baby. Look at you.” Jerome laughs and rips the top half of my dress open to revile my breast.

He starts to toy with them as I bring myself closer to release. “Does that feel good doll? Do you like playing with yourself?” I moan and nod my head. “Yes. It feels so good.”

Jerome lowers he head and removes my fingers from my pussy replacing them with his own. He sucks on my clit knowing how sensitive I am there.

I grab his hair and tug at it. “Ah Jerome!” I throw my head back. “Turn around. Hands and knees love.”

I do as he says and I feel the tip of him running up and down my soaked slit. “What do you want baby?” “I want you to fuck me Jerome.” He giggles and slides in roughly.

He doesn’t waste time. He pounds into my as hard as he can bringing me close to the edge. “Who’s are you? Hm? Scream it!” “Yours Jerome!” I moan out.

Jerome pulls my hair back and thrust into me at an angle where I’m ready to cum. “YOURS! IM YOURS!” I scream as we both cum.

Jerome brushes my hair out if my face and kisses my cheek. “That’s right baby.” He says into my ear.

Originally posted by rickdixonandthefandomlifeposts

Originally posted by moan-s

She’s Just Not That Into You » Part III (A Harry Styles Miniseries)

Miss the previous parts? Part One » Part Two

As always, this miniseries is dedicated to @stylesunchained. Thank you so much for reading the first two parts!  I hope part three is just as enjoyable for you all.

Let me know what you think! Happy reading.

Originally posted by glamour-divine

Although Harry had been disappointed to not receive your personal phone number, he still called “Megan” the next day to set up an appointment to see you. The earliest you can see him for a consulting appointment is in two weeks, and when Megan breaks the news to him, he nearly chokes on his morning tea.

Two weeks?

There wasn’t a logical way to see you sooner. There wasn’t a way to spin it in order for him to pop into your shop, especially considering he still had to sign the final papers to make the house his. How could he explain to you that he hadn’t quite sealed the deal yet, so you’d be decorating a completely hypothetical space? He’d already felt like an idiot in front of you, getting caught snooping around your bookshelves, and he wasn’t too keen on feeling like that around you anytime soon.

So, he waits.

He busies himself with packing up the items he knew he wouldn’t need: small, decorative sculptures, a majority of his books, the picture frames that littered nearly every spare surface of his home, his summer clothing that he knew would be completely unnecessary for at least five more months. Once he gets news that the final papers are ready to sign and the house is his, he cleans every nook and cranny of his current house, figuring it might as well be good to spruce it up for the new owners. He meets old friends for lunch, he takes his mother out for dinner, and he begs his sister to come over for a movie night.

And, of course, he reads. He reads the book you spoke so highly of, immersing himself within the worlds of each character, wondering which one you connected with most. Did you cry at the same parts he did? Did you have the same pit in your stomach that he experienced whenever the subject matter turned particularly dark? He needed to know what happened next, reading late into the night, promising himself he would go to bed after he finished the page he was on, but knowing he wouldn’t stop until he could no longer open his eyes.

The two weeks pass, but they feel more like a month and a half than they do a fortnight.

When the day of the meeting comes around, he peeks into the storefront, smiling at your name on the door. He meanders around your shop after checking in with Megan. She nods when he states his presence - a meek little thing with big brown eyes and a nervous giggle - and notifies you that “Mr. Styles is here,” via the bulky black telephone on her desk. He can feel the girl’s eyes on him as he walks around, recognizing some of the pieces from your website.

“Hi!” your voice echoes from behind him, your heels clicking against the concrete floor.

Harry turns around, fully expecting a normal salutation to escape his lips, but instead, his voice catches in his throat. You’re wholly professional, the version of yourself he saw in the magazine shoots. Cropped black pants with pointed-toe heels, a blazer rolled up to your elbows.

You look like you run the place - which, of course you do.

“How are you?” you ask before kissing his cheek and bringing him in for a hug.

That’s a bit better, he thinks to himself, remembering how previously, you’d greeted Nick more lovingly than you had Harry.

“Good, good,” he takes a step back from you, hoping your perfume had transferred onto him so he could smell you on him later - so he could pretend that reality wasn’t against him and that your scent was stuck to him for reasons other than a professional greeting. “Yourself?”

“Excited!” you clap your hands together. “Before we go back, let’s walk around a bit so you can get a sense of where I’m coming from, design-wise.”

He nods, pretending not to have already extensively researched “where you’re coming from,” and follows you until you stop in front of the mock room setups, pointing out some of your favorite pieces.

“Marble is really in,” you explain, tapping a stone coffee table. “But I try not to overdo it. If you like the look of marble - if you like this exact table, even - this would be the only marble piece I’d choose for whatever room.”

Taking his chin between his thumb and forefinger, Harry nods, inspecting the table and picturing it in his new living room. He likes it. Come to think of it, he liked everything. And it wasn’t just to appease you - there was no reason to like a chair just because you liked it - but he could envision nearly every piece in his new home.

“Just got these lamps in,” you turn one on. “I’m obsessed with them. Might snag them for myself,” you smile, clicking the remaining lamp on.

“How often does that ‘appen?” Harry smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“More often than it should,” you laugh. “I’m on this kick of deep greens, navy blue, and gold. Realize it’s not everyone’s cuppa tea, but if you see anything you like, there will almost always be different colors available,” you fluff a throw pillow, adjusting its position next to another.

Harry nods, imagining what his new place would look like decorated with a darker color scheme. He’d never been one for bold rooms - white was his go-to, with him being more concerned about how comfortable the furniture was instead of the color of the walls. You’d done Nick’s living room in bold, dark colors, and Harry loved it. It was his home, he’d told Harry. It wasn’t just a place he stayed and passed the time until he found somewhere else to live. It somehow felt right, even in the summertime, which Harry had initially worried about after seeing it for the first time. The home had Nick Grimshaw written all over it, and Harry was envious of how easily his best friend’s personality was packaged within every room.

He’d wanted that for himself, and you would be the one to give that to him.

He relishes in watching you work the room. You’re completely in your element, answering a couple of questions from Megan when the girl timidly approaches, letting her know that she was free to take lunch just as soon as your meeting with Harry wrapped up. You thank a middle-aged man for his order when he stops in to retrieve a rug, running to hold the door open for him as he heaves the rolled-up carpet over his shoulder. You make a joke with him as he leaves, winking at him with a smile and a wave of your hand.

Were you always this beautiful, or had Harry neglected to see how effortless your charm was?

No, that couldn’t have been the case. He’d noticed right from the second he laid eyes on you that you were something special; something different.

You lead him to the back of the expansive store, asking him questions about his current living space, wondering what pieces of furniture he wanted to keep and which he wanted to ditch.

“Oh my gosh!” you stop abruptly in the doorway to your office, clutching Harry’s shoulder as your eyes widen. “I didn’t even ask you if you wanted anything to drink! Water, coffee, tea?” you shuffle to the mini-fridge in the corner of the room, opening it and then closing it again. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I jump the gun sometimes. Get excited over the idea of a new space to transform and all that,” you laugh, rolling your eyes at yourself.

“Water would be great, thanks,” Harry smiles. He tries not to touch a hand to where you’d touched his shoulder, but he was worried you’d burned a hole through his shirt, what with how hot the area felt to him now.

He notices the familiar smell when he walks into your office, nodding his head when he sees that you’ve got yet another Diptyque candle burning on top of a filing cabinet - he can tell it’s pomegranate without even reading the label. He inspects the decor, loving the juxtaposition of clean lines set against rustic elements which make the room feel comforting and clean.

You pull out a chair with brightly colored fabric across the cushions, offering it to Harry before placing a bottle of water in front of him and walking to the opposite side of your desk.

“Okay,” you wake your computer up, scooting your chair closer to the screen. “I normally take clients through my portfolio so they can see the spaces I’ve completed, before and after I’ve gotten my hands on them.” You adjust the large monitor so Harry can view the screen as well. “Does that sound alright?”

“Of course,” he rubs his hands on his knees. “Whatever you normally do.”

You click on a file, asking Harry if he could see the screen properly. You show him your bigger projects - cafes and restaurants, along with office buildings - as well as clients who had hired you to renovate their houses. You mention how you tend to be inspired by patterns and colors, along with custom fabric you use to reupholster vintage, antique furniture.

“Do you reupholster them yourself?” he asks.

“The smaller pieces, yeah,” you nod, taking a sip from the cup of tea in front of you. “Like that chair you’re sitting on. I usually spend my free time refurbishing the pieces I find. I’ve done chairs, side tables, desks - all that,” you go on, clicking open a picture of one of your completed pieces. “Stopped doing the big stuff when my schedule got busier. Now, I work with a father-and-son team and they do the couches and loveseats,” you click again, a picture of you and two men sitting on a couch in what seems to be a workshop. “There we are,” you chuckle, quickly moving on to the next picture.

Harry knows that he can’t ask you to go back - what would you think of him if he’d insisted upon you showing him the picture again, just so he could see the way your legs crossed one over the other at the knee; how you smiled so easily, your eyes bright and your arms wrapped around the shoulders of both men. You were happy - genuinely happy - and it was a look you wore well.

“So which pieces from your current place do you want to keep?” you ask, meeting Harry’s eyes when he looks up from his lap. “If any…”

“Thinkin’ maybe,” he pulls at his bottom lip. “I’d wanna start fresh? To keep consistent?”

“Perfect,” you nod, minimizing your portfolio and bringing up a calendar. “Okay then,” you begin, moving the monitor back to its original position. “I’ll need to see your new place before I do any work-ups for you. Is there a time this week I can come and see the space?”

Harry’s heart jumps at the thought, even though your intent is purely professional.

You’d said the words, though.

You wanted to come over to his house. To his place. To his home.

“All I ‘ave is time,” he smiles. “So whatever works for you.”

Two days later, Harry finds himself waiting for you at his new property, the wintery London rain keeping him indoors as he paces back and forth in front of the large window overlooking the drive. It was just like London to rain on such a day - a day that should’ve been filled with bright sun to match the occasion - but he was used to the drizzle, no matter how much he didn’t agree with it.

His phone rings, the vibration in his back pocket causing him to jump. An unknown number flashes on the screen, and when he picks up, he’s surprised to hear your voice on the other line.

“So sorry, Harry!” your plea causes him to smile. You sound different on the phone - your voice is less smooth, but he lets the sound of it was over him, regardless. “I promise I haven’t stood you up! My shoot on the other end of town ran long, but I swear ‘m on my way! The GPS says ten minutes.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckles. “I’ll be here. Drive safe, alright?”

You say you will and apologize again before hanging up. He grins as he looks out the window, biting his lower lip and furthering the dimples in his cheeks.

You’ve got his number saved in your phone.

He’s got your number now.

Whether it was your business phone or your personal phone didn’t matter. He had a direct line to you, and you to him. Knowing that he’d most likely never use it for reasons other than strictly professional, he felt nearly giddy as he saved your number, creating a new contact for you.

When you arrive, he’s surprised to see that it’s in a van with your logo on the side. Why - based on everything he knows about you thus far - is that the thing to make him hard? And why does his stomach flip so dramatically when he sees you step out of the driver’s seat, dressed in a worn-in flannel and jeans with paint splatters on them? You shuffle quickly over to the passenger’s side, shielding your eyes from the rain. When you emerge into sight again, you’ve got your arms full of materials like folders, tape measures, and a ruler. You laugh as you run up to the front door, shielding your papers beneath your plaid shirt.

How was Harry supposed to make it through the afternoon without a full-on stiffy with you looking like that?

“Hi,” he smiles when he opens the door, the security system beeping throughout the empty house.

“Hi!” you jump into the foyer, trying to catch your breath. “I’m so sorry - I hate being late!”

“Not a problem,” Harry assures you, noticing the pencil tucked behind your ear.

“And I’m sorry for looking suck a mess,” you peel your boots off with one hand, clutching your supplies close to your chest with the other. “Just set up a shoot and didn’t want to be even later in the name of looking presentable.”

Harry looks down at his hoodie and torn jeans, his hair flopping down onto his forehead, “Look more presentable than I do,” he chuckles.

You scoff, placing your boots neatly together, just as Harry did at your flat. He smiles at the unnecessary gesture, appreciative that you didn’t even bother ask whether or not he’d prefer you take your shoes off. Not that he’d have a problem either way - you could traipse mud and leaves all over his new home and he’d thank you for it.

“‘ve got the measurements and whatnot,” he explains as the two of you walk into the kitchen. “The original contractor has the blueprints and sent them over so we’d ‘ave ‘em.”

“Great,” you nod, inspecting the cabinetry from afar. “Think today’ll just be me scoping out the rooms, taking some measurements just to double-check,” you run your hands through your hair after setting down your armful of materials onto the counter. “Not that I don’t trust the contractor’s numbers. I’ve got my own system, though. Years of doing this makes me a creature of habit,” you smirk, flipping open a folder labeled STYLES, H. in bold letters. His heart jumps, thinking that you could’ve been the one to write it. “Wanna help me measure?”

“Of course,” he nods - maybe a bit too eagerly - as you reach for your tape measure and clip it onto the back pocket of your jeans.

The two of you walk through the empty house in your socked feet, Harry remaining quiet until you say something. You inspect each room, writing down how many windows are in each, commenting on where some crown molding will need to be replaced, recommending that the carpet be taken up and replaced with real hardwood to give it a more modern feel.

“Which colors are we thinking so far?” you inquire, unclipping the tape measure. Pulling out the free edge, you hand it to Harry, your fingertips touching his while you cock your head to the other side of the room with a smile. He’s frozen for a moment, willing you to reach out and grace your hand over his once more, but he’s snapped out of it by you walking away from him. He follows your lead, walking to the opposite wall from the one you’re standing against, holding the bulky measure down against the floorboard.

“Like the thought of a dark blue for this room,” he looks around, squatting on one knee when he reaches the wall. “Cozy livin’ room ‘n all that.”

“Good, good,” you grin. “Don’t want you to be swayed by my own likes and dislikes, but I promise you it’ll look good.” You make a quick chart with the ruler you’ve brought on the inside flap of the manila folder, muttering something about always needing to have straight lines, no matter if it was written in on an official document or the inside of a folder. It makes Harry smile, the admission of your quirk. “And if not, we can always change it. Paint is easy to change.”

“Don’t think’ll want t’ change it,” Harry assures, walking slowly backwards with the free end of the tape between his fingertips, crouching down once you’ve met him to measure the width of the room. “Whatever you’ve shown me so far, I’ve loved.”

You peek up through the hair that’s fallen down into your eyes as you scribble more numbers onto the folder, smiling at him in a way he forces himself to remember. His heart pounds in his chest - so much so that he hopes you can’t hear it - and he finds it difficult to swallow the lump that’s housed in his throat.

You work easily together as walk through each room, speaking vaguely about the initial ideas both of you had for the house. You don’t try to sell Harry on one idea or another - you offer a suggestion and if he doesn’t like it, you offer another until he’s comfortable. He feels relaxed, especially once you assure him that nothing is set in stone and that your feelings won’t be hurt if he doesn’t like something you suggest. This is his home, you remind him. It’s all up to him.

“What was the shoot about?” Harry asks as you measure the windows in what will eventually be his bedroom.

“Uneven decorating. Odd numbers look better,” you explain, sniffling slightly. “Always want to have one, three, or five of something, unless it’s like a side table or lamps. But anything on a wall - like framed art or pictures - and table decorations like figurines or candles look best when there’s an odd number of them.”

“You allowed to tell me which publication?” he smirks slyly, leaning up against the wall.

You twist your mouth, trying to conceal a smile. You think on it for a second, tucking your pencil back behind your ear. “Promise not to tell?” you reach out with your pinky, a pseudo-stern look on your face.

“Promise,” Harry links his pinky with yours, trying to conceal his smile by keeping his lips pressed tightly together. How could he say no to a pinky-promise imposed by a gorgeous woman? There were laws against it, he thinks.

“I’m serious!” you scoff, dropping your hand to your side. “I’ll know it was you if you say anything. If you even mention it to anyone - especially Nicholas Grimshaw - I’ll never speak to you again.”

He clears his throat, rubbing his nose twice. He closes his eyes, forcing himself to wear the same stern look you’re sporting. When he opens his eyes, you’re still staring at him intently.

“Swear,” he nods.

“And then you’ve gone and broken a pinky promise, too. Which in my books…” you raise your eyebrows and shake your head with a twitch of your pointer finger in front of you. “It’s HGTV Magazine. From the US.”

“That’s like a major TV channel there, innit?”

“Yeah,” you nod slowly, your eyes widening at the thought. “Now they’ve got magazines. And paint. And furniture. And decor. ‘ve got the market cornered over there. Huge, huge company. Like…massive.”

“And you’ve never been featured in the States, ‘ave you?”

“No,” you nearly whisper.

“That’s a big fuckin’ deal, then!”

“Guess so,” you chuckle, running your hands through your hair. “Thanks for that.”

“Absolutely,” Harry laughs, knocking your shoulder with his knuckles. “Congratulations. It really is a huge deal.”

He knew you were successful, but hearing about how you set up the studio to look like a living room today and would be going back tomorrow in order to get your portrait taken in the room makes him realize just how successful you are. A four-page spread, including an interview on how you’d taken London by storm and your influences would be seen within the American market soon. Their words, not yours, you assured Harry.

As the two of you walk through the rooms on the second floor, he asks how you started within the industry. You explain to him that you went to school to be a financial advisor and specialized in small business accounts. You were a pencil-pusher, you told Harry, and you were stuck in an office all day long. You’d spend your weekends refurbishing antique furniture, finding that you’d had a knack for it. It made you happy - so happy that it was the only thing that got you through the monotony of your work week. Although you loved your clients and always enjoyed the pride that came with their wins, you weren’t especially happy in your job. Something had to change.

After agreeing that all of the light fixtures upstairs would have to be replaced, you went on to talk about how even though you saw how much stress your clients were under running their own businesses, you couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to begin your own business.

“Put my life savings into my first shop,” you flick off the hallway bathroom’s light. “I was eating Ramen nearly every night. Went without electricity in my apartment for a week because I didn’t ‘ave enough money to pay for lights at the store and lights at home,” you laugh. “Feels like such a long time ago…”

You started out selling furniture and other decor items. It was tough, but little by little, you made progress. Eventually, one of your regular customers asked if you were interested in working with her as an interior design consultant for her company. It helped get your name out, and soon you were redesigning spaces for people you could’ve never imagined.

Harry admires how smart and brave you are - he can understand how scary it is to go it alone without knowing the results. He was going through it right now. He was in a more privileged position, sure, but he was still unsure of what the future held, and he could appreciate how much courage it took to start over. It made him look at you in a different light - a light that allowed him to see the struggle you’d gone through, working you way from nothing to one of the best in your field. He’d envied the confidence that you sported when it came to your work and wondered if he, himself, would ever feel that.

Once you’re finished taking down all of the information you need, you follow Harry back downstairs.

“Still raining,” you frown, gathering all of your materials. “Does wonders for the hair.” You pretend to flip it over your shoulders. The natural state of it brought out by the weather makes Harry want you all the more.

“Ye’ look great.”

You tut, rolling your eyes a bit, but thank him nonetheless. “So, ‘ve got to take off,” you state, your body language pulling you back to the foyer. “But I really am so excited to get started on the mockups,” you hop a little. “It’s a beautiful space and we can start from scratch, which is when I have most of my fun.”

“‘m excited too,” Harry smiles.

“‘ll have Megan call you when I’m done with the renderings,” you slip your boots back on. “Should take no longer than a week. So count on next Thursday?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “And congratulations again on the magazine - really is a big deal.”

You tilt your head to the side, all of your features softening. “Thank you, Harry,” you smile coyly. You squeeze him a bit as you hug goodbye, the materials in your arms pressed between the two of you creating a barrier that Harry would rather be without. “I had fun today.”

“I did, too.”

He watches you run to your work van, leaping over a particularly large puddle. He laughs to himself as you struggle with your keys before unlocking the driver’s door, diving into the vehicle with a sigh that he can’t see. He watches as you push your mussed-up hair back, noticing him standing in the front window. You wave with a knowing smile before turning on the engine and backing out of the drive.

It’s that smile - that sly smirk - that pushes Harry over the edge that night.

He didn’t want to touch himself, but he’d been rock hard ever since he saw how beautiful your ass looked in your paint-splattered work jeans as you ran to the car. He didn’t want to defile you in his mind as he stroked himself in the shower, water running down his shoulders and back as he faced away from the spray. He didn’t want to moan your name as his balls tightened, the images of you naked and begging for him littering his mind to the point of no return.

But, he did.

He had to.

Nobody would know - it would be his secret - but if he didn’t jack off to the thought of you, he was sure he’d lose his damn mind.

He pictures you sporting the same upturn of your lips from earlier as you ride him, your flannel from that day still on, yet unbuttoned to reveal your breasts as you grind down against him. You know what you do to him, and your smile tells all. He imagines how beautiful you’d sound as he gripped your hips, slowing your movements to nearly a stop while he pushes up into you, groaning at the gasp you give him in return.

He’d never wanted to be inside someone as much as he wanted to be inside you. He wants to feel your breath against his ear, his name across your lips, your fingertips gripping his shoulders. He wants to know what you taste like - sweet, probably, like the candles you burn. He wants to know how warm you are; how wet he can make you by just the touch of his lips to yours. He wants to hear your moan - feel it vibrate down his cock while he’s in your mouth, that gorgeous pout of yours wrapped around the head of him.

He wants it all, but he can’t have it, so his hand will have to do.

A part of him feels guilty when he cums on the shower wall, his splotchy vision and ringing ears indicating that he gave in too quickly. But, fuck. What was a man supposed to do? You’d smelled so good; your stories never bored him; you were becoming a global success and you’d accepted to work with him.

And your ass? In those jeans?

He was done before he ever began, as far as that was concerned.

He walks out of the shower on shaky legs, a white bath towel wrapped loosely around his waist. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he takes his head in his hands and grunts.

“Fuck’r you on, Styles?” he asks himself.

He leans back onto the covers, his feet dangling off the edge of his bed that he’ll soon replace with another one, based upon your recommendation. He falls asleep that way - sleeps deeply, too, his hair wet and his towel coming undone after he shifts slightly in his slumber. It’s a deep sleep, one that doesn’t produce a memory of a dream, and Harry is thankful for that.

He doesn’t think he could take another night of dreaming of you.

Not if he wasn’t able to turn those dreams into a reality so that his mind could stop wandering day in and day out…

Not if he wasn’t able to get what he wanted…

Not if, he knows, he wasn’t able to make you his.

You Understand Right? (Part 4): Broken Promises

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

Length: 989+ words

TW: Nothing in this chapter! 

A/N: This is a pretty short chapter, but I wanted to split this chapter, and the next chapter up. Also, this is part of @kas-not-cas 2.5K Writing Challenge! Honestly, whenever I do challenges, I prefer writing a separate fic that’s not a part of a series, but it just went to so well with this chapter that I couldn’t help myself! I know I got your permission to use the Prompt in a series, but if you want me to write another oneshot separate, I can totes do that! 

Prompt: “I’ve lost count of the promises you’ve broken.”

SERIES MASTERLIST


“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean greeted lowly as not to scare her. 

Her gaze was stuck to the ground, her body not moving an inch.

“We’re not going to hurt you. Do you remember us?” Sam questioned kindly, bending his knees to meet her eyes.

She nodded slowly, looking unsure of her surroundings. 

“You’re not in hell anymore,” Sam said comfortingly. “You’re safe with us.”

Y/N looked around the motel room, and finally opened her mouth. “Wh- What’s the date?” she croaked.

“It’s June 19th, 2015,” Sam answered.

The girl looked accepting of the fact that it has been nine years since her death. 

“Here,” Sam quickly said, grabbing a water bottle from the table, and handing it to her. “You must be hungry. Dean, and I were just about to head back to the bunker.”

“The bunker?” Y/N asked with her head tilted to the side.

“Yea!” Sam’s face lit up as he continued talking about their new found residence. He chattered away about the bunker for a few minutes until Dean interrupted him.

“Let’s get you some food before we leave.” There wasn’t any trace of emotions in his voice, his face as stoic as ever.

Y/N looked down at her bloody clothes, and before she could say anything, Dean had already gone through his bag, pulling a pair of shirt, flannel, and sweatpants for her to wear.

“Get changed, and then we’ll head out,” Dean instructed.

As she was in the bathroom, the two brothers turned to each other.

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Hamilton things (Act 1)
  • those chills you get when they say “and Alex got better but his mother went quick” 
  • the genius that is “Aaron Burr, Sir”
  • lafayette aka the love of my life
  • lafayette’s verse in my shot. Like damn.
  • "I heard your mother say come again”
  • “if you stand for nothing burr, what’ll you fall for?“
  • "I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory”
  • "ah, so you’ve discussed me? I’m a trust fund baby you can trust me.“
  • eliza??? Just??? The love of my life??
  • "it’s hard to listen to you with a straight face” in farmer refuted.
  • Jonathan Groff in general in this entire damn play because I adore that goof and will protect him with my life.
  • The end of “right hand man”, right at the climax of the song. Pure genius, honestly.
  • “We’re reliable with the ladies. THERE ARE SO MANY TO DEFLOWER”
  • “Is it a question of if, Burr, or which one?”
  • “As long as i’m alive Eliza, I swear to god you’ll never feel so-,” his voice?? when he says this?? my sexuality.
  • Satisfied. Just. Ugh. Angelica Schuyler is the reason I live and breathe. 
  • “The Story Of Tonight Reprise” Because honestly its so funny like the “oh shit” alexander says. iconic.
  • love/death/life doesn’t discriminate between the sinners and the saints
  • that “chicka blah” noise that multiple characters make in multiple songs. hamilton does it in stay alive.
  • “I’M A GENERAL WHEEEE”
  • hamilton and laurens being total otp, honestly.
  • “Ten Duel Commandments” in general but more specifically “pray that hell or heaven lets you in”
  • “call me son one more time”
  • everything Lafayette in “Guns and Ships” 
  • did i mention Lafayette???
  • “Immigrants, we get the job done” just. ugh. i love.
  • “when you knock me down I get the fuck back up again” and all of that instrumental shit afterwards because it’s honestly what I live for.
  • that cheeky “awesome, wow” in what comes next
  • Dear Theodosia was literally written about Lin’s dog because he wrote it before children were even in the picture and I think that’s honestly the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard.
  • “and i thought i was so smart” 
  • the way he says “i was chosen for the constitutional convention” in non-stop
  • those chills when they say “HAMILTON WROTE THE OTHER FIFTY-ONE”
BADASS AU'S
  • I just survived a mob hit and swam a mile down a river just to escape them so no, I’m not in the goddamn mood to play nice-–give me your fucking car or I’ll blow your head off ok?
    • and, what the f–why are you laughing? tHIS ISNT FUNNY GIVE ME YOUR CAR–YES I KNOW IM NAKED ALRIGHT AND ITS COMPLETELY IRRELEVENT
  • you shoved a giant bag of cash and drugs in my arms while running from some people and tracked me down later to take it back but oho boyy fuck that I’m not givin this back. serves u right to thinking I’d be too innocent to do anything with it
  • I stole ur car to outrun these assholes but we got t-boned and now both of us are staring down 7 gun barrels-–don’t worry babe ok I totally have this handled
  • all I’m trying to do is capture this fucking guy but you just busted in here like such an ass to try and kill the mofo and I swear to god I will shove my foot so hard up your ass if you kill him—
  • I apparently pissed of the ‘fate committee’ by not dying when I was supposed to so now I’m stuck in some fucken final destination shit by avoiding all these attempts to off me–🖕🏽 fucku you’ll never get me
  • I have searched for years, gone through seven disguises, and am LAYERS deep in lies, ALL to get to the bottom of this mystery and claim my reward and here you come fucking EVERYTHING UP-–either you leave and wipe that goddamn grin off your face or I blow your brains out, go ahead and choose. 
    • *freezes when they say youll have to kill them to get rid of them*
    • *sees them smiling at it* aight fuck yuo
  • *record scratch* yes, some might wonder how I got in this situation: me, here, with a broken nose, few fallen teeth, my entire apartment complex on fire, lipstick all over my neck and ten cocked guns pointed straight at my head, but let me tell you– it’s actually a funny story.
  • yes I am gonna be fucking bitter about being stranded in space with an alien army chasing after us, I signed up for space rocks and neil degrasse tyson not the spacetime fucking oddessy
2

A/N: Request from anon. Something like this was going through my head for a while now. I love how readers just read my mind sometimes. Enjoy, everyone!

Words: 1984
Warnings: mental breakdown, mentions of parent death

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Harry Smut// Officer H

shavon24lo asked: “Can you do an anonymous part 2? and y/n could go back home to her husband and he’d see the marks that Harry left and they get into a fight and she goes back to Harry? Or something like that idk. thanks”

A/N: I was very excited to write this xx

Part 1 || Masterlist

You closed your car door before speeding out of your own driveway and onto the main streets of London. You left the hotel the next morning while the man, whom still didn’t have a name, laid asleep in the hotel bed. He left a note on your phone with his number and address, leaving you to enter it yourself. You entered it as Anonymous. As much as you wanted to stay with him, you still had a home and boyfriend to address to. It wasn’t until you saw him again. As mad as you were about him not showing up, you remembered the marks the man at the hotel left.

The five marks were faint, but obvious when they were finally noticed by your boyfriend. Both of you were irate over two different topics that could have been solved if he would have shown up. He went to blow off some steam around noon, but you stayed at home. You knew it was over; there was no more hope for either of you.

Four years had gone to waste over one night, but it was a night you didn’t regret. Not even a part of you wanted to take it back. You replayed multiple times in your mind.

You punched in his address into your GPS. You didn’t have a place to go anymore, and you wanted, needed to see him again. You turned the corner and drove down to a flat complex at the end of the road. You parked on the street before looking on your phone for the flat number.

“10th floor, unit 4,” you mumbled to yourself.

You sighed before exiting your car. The cold brisk air finally hit you. You walked into the building, feeling out of place. You found your way to the elevator and opened it. You rode up alone to the tenth floor, fidgeting with your hands. You wondered if he would turn you down now. Maybe he thought a one night stand, but he still gave you his number and address. Did he expect you to come? Did you seem desperate coming back to him the following night?

Your thoughts vanished when the ding of the elevator sung on the tenth floor. You walked to the fourth unit, knocking on the door. The hollow knock sounded through the hallway. 

No one answered. 

You tried again and knocked for the second time. You shook your head before heading back to the elevator. You pressed the down button and waited for it to arrive. 

It opened and revealed him.

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Drogo x Female Reader

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Imagine owning a small bakery which is overrun by the Mafia resulting in the leader, Drogo, becoming infatuated with you.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

\ Request from anonymous /

Khal Drogo x Reader Modern au? Like he’s a UFC fighter or a mafia leader and reader is our fem Cinnabon bakery owner or student.

♡ ♡ ♡ Warning: MODERN AU ♡ ♡ ♡

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The Price Of Everything // The Preacher’s Daughter Part Six [A Mitch Rapp Smut]

Author: @minhosmeanhoe

Series: Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Relationship: Mitch Rapp x Reader / Mitch Rapp x OFC

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Fingering, Shower Sex, Unprotected Sex, Hella Violence, Extreme Angst, Mitch Rapp Suffering, Very Illegal Endeavors, Underage Drinking, and Swearing.

Word Count: 11,884

Song: One More Time by Jon Bellion (this song is fucking hilarious and a big middle finger to Rose’s dad)

A/N: Grab popcorn and some tissues ‘cuz y’all are in for one hell of a rollercoaster ride. This is my favorite chapter yet, I really love it. Special thanks to @mf-despair-queen​ for providing me with canon American Assassin information. Love ya, babe. Also, can’t wait for your reactions at the end lol I might get death threats.

The air stilled and you could feel the thick tension dancing on your skin. In that frozen second that we realized my father had heard it all, I see his eyes flicker from mine to Mitch’s. Never in my life had I ever seen so much hatred in a man who believed in nothing but pure love before. Other than that, his face is completely unreadable which made it really hard to expect his upcoming action. Something I never would have thought to see my father do — never in my life.

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The Five Things You Know, and the One You Don’t

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2567

A/N:  back for round twoooo…..I feel like we all need some Bucky fluff right now

Originally posted by seabasschino

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Forever Loyal

(gif belongs to charlie-bradcherry)

Title: Forever Loyal

Characters: Lucifer x Reader, Crowley

Word Count: 858

Warnings: death of a character, there are no spoilers because I made my own ending to last night’s episode, small amount of fluff. *The gif I guess could be counted as a spoiler?*

A/N: I said I was going to do it, so I did it. You all get some special treatment today!! Enjoy this extra fic! I hope you all enjoy this! Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! I love you all so much!! <3

Crowley smirked at Lucifer as the fallen archangel fell to his knees.  Lucifer withered in pain and all Crowley could do was chuckle.  He had big plans to torture Lucifer.  Crowley wasn’t going to spare Lucifer, not one bit.

“Do you remember [Y/N],” Crowley asked Lucifer, his tone snarky.  “She’s your soul mate isn’t she?  Pretty little thing she is.”

“Keep your hands off of her Crowley,” Lucifer seethed as he clutched his stomach.

“It’s more like she can’t keep her hands off of me,” Crowley mused, his eyes traveling to the door of the thrown room.  His smirk grew as you opened the door to the throne room.  “Oh look who’s here.”

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