oaks opening

Angel in the Darkness (M)

Originally posted by jungkook-gifs

Summary: After a patient urgently pleads you to go and help a friend of his, you naively agree to it. Little did you know, that you would get more than what you agreed to, when he leads you to a brothel, to help a dangerous prostitute named Jeon Jungkook.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (ft. Jin, but not romantically)

Genre: Smut (M), angst, mafia!au, prostitution!au 

Word Count: 5,468

A/N: This is a dark and filthy story! Graphic descriptions of sex (masturbating, etc), heavy dom/sub undertones, drug use, vulgar language use……(alot of smut comes in later) This is a mature read! You have been warned!

Your mother told you that there was a purpose for what everyone does. That there is always a reason for someone’s actions; whether it was bad or good. If it was a good action, the individual has learned the most rewarding path to handle situations; regardless if it was easy or not. If it was a bad action, the person could reflect on it, and with guidance, they will learn the right way toward dealing with obstacles. And to this day, that is how you viewed life. If you handled something well, you would be rewarded in the future, if you handled it poorly, you would need to reflect on why you did such a thing, till you find the right path. With these beliefs, you always wanted to find the ‘purpose’ of an individual’s actions, and help them find the right way. So that’s how you ended up working at a rehab centre; helping mentally to find the root cause of someone’s poor actions, and leading them to a better future.

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Like A Bitch In Heat

Pairing: Oak x Reader

Requested?: Nope. I just had an idea with a collar and then my friends said use Oak. Now here we are.

Summary: Oak notices your interest in collars and decides to bring your fantasy to life

Warnings: d/s, collaring (and leash), oral sex, little bit of breath play, oak calls the reader princess, pet names, facial, begging

Words: 1.6k+

A/N: I am hella nervous to post this because it’s my first solo smut BUT I really hope you guys enjoy it. Shout out to @diggs4life , @tempfixeliza , and @helplesslylins for reading this fic numerous times and convincing me to post it! I have no regrets.

Originally posted by c-jacksonn

You didn’t think he would actually do this. It started as a smart retort you gave your nosy friend with benefits, Oak. You were in his bedroom, seated next to each other. He was writing an email on his laptop and you were scrolling on Tumblr. Unbeknownst to you, he took a short break from typing up his email to glance at your phone.

“Is that a collar?” Oak’s smooth voice spoke up from your right as you liked the gif of a girl being lead by a leash.

“No, Oak. It’s a hat.” you deadpanned, reblogging it before continuing down your dashboard.

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In Casey County Kentucky, the White Oak Union Church is open to anyone who wants to preach. My grandmother remembers going there as a child when her father or uncles had something they wanted to preach about so there’s no telling how long this church has been standing.
My father tells about preaching there with his cousins as a kid and being warned not to go in there after dark because that’s when the devil took the pulpit.

you give love a bad name

Draco was having a lovely Thursday evening, spending the time reading books on new Quidditch techniques and scribbling down any potion ideas that came to mind. Of course, Draco could be more productive.

Wait. No, he actually couldn’t.

Because Harry was playing unnecessary, loud, cantankerous garbage. Usually, Draco can drown it out and chalk it up to Harry going through a ‘hardcore’ phase.

But it’s been over a year.

His so-called “music” booming from underneath Draco’s room was trembling the floorboards, shaking the windows, and rattling the thoughts inside Draco’s mind. Which wasn’t “punk rock” at all.

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Mr. Barnes (Part 2 out of ?)

(A/N): I’m so glad everyone is liking this series so far!

Summary: Living in 1940′s Brooklyn as a crime lord is all fun and games until someone falls in love

Warnings: swearing, mentions of rape

Read Part 1:

(Tags at the end) 

Originally posted by livvy1800

 Bucky sat at his oak desk, a cigar hanging out of his mouth as he breathed in deeply. Ever since that run in with that…with that slum kid Bucky hadn’t been able to keep his mind off of them. Their rosy cheeks and bright eyes kept perforating his thoughts, making it impossible to think about much else. He had business deals to think off, he had other gangs to think about, he had to worry about some prick in England talking shit about him, he didn’t have time to focus on that low life nobody. With a sigh Bucky tossed his cigar into an ash tray, running his hands down his scruffy face. It was nearly half an hour later when A quiet knock on his study door is what finally broke him Out of his stupor. 

   "Yeah?“ Bucky’s voice was hoarse, much more than usual. The tall oak doors swung open to reveal Dot, Bucky’s saving grace, wearing nothing but a silk robe he had bought them for valentines day. "Hello there dot,” Bucky smirks as Dot waltz in, swaying her hips as she made her way to Bucky’s heavy desk. 

   "Hiya Mr. Barnes,“ she smirks as she stops before him, resting her hands on the arms of his chair. "I’ve been missin’ ya today,” Bucky hums as he leans forward, almost touching his lips against hers. 

    “Have you now?” Dot nods, her lips parting in a sultry fashion as she does. 

   "You’re favorite girl is feeling a bit neglected,“

    "Oh, we can’t have that,” Bucky smirks as he grabs Dot’s ass, bringing her down onto his lap. “Now can we?” Dot gasps at the contact, shifting a bit, rubbing herself against Bucky’s leg enticingly. 

   "Sit back and let Mr. Barnes take care of ya, eh?“

 (Y/N) bit their lip as they eyed all the couples dancing, trying so desperately to keep their mind off of their run in a few days prior. They had just run into one of the most dangerous thugs in all of America, the man had everyone in his pocket, he could get away with murder and no one would bat an eye and yet (Y/N) ran into him and here they were, able to tell the tale. 

   With a shaky sigh (Y/N) reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind their ear, even though it wasn’t necessary. Honestly (Y/N) was trying their best to keep busy, even the most mundane tasks would help focus (Y/N)’s mind on things other than the dark haired, mysterious thug. 

    "Hey sweetcheeks,” a rather harsh, almost smoker like voice drawls in (Y/N)’s ear, sending shivers down their spine. “I couldn’t help but notice you here all alone, how bout you get up and dance with me.” His words were poised as a question but his tone hinted otherwise. (Y/N) gulps, steeling themself against the strange man.

    “I’m sorry sir but I really don’t feel like-" 

    "It wasn’t a Question sweetheart,” he grips (Y/N)’s arm painfully tight, leaving them to whimper in pain. “Now get up or I’ll make you get up,” it was either go willingly or against their own will and (Y/N) most definitely wasn’t all too thrilled about the second idea. So with shaking legs and a trembling lip (Y/N) stood from their spot, following the sketchy looking man out to the dance floor. His strong hands settle on their waist as he yanks them close, their hips pushed flush against his. “What’s your name kid?” (Y/N) trembles on the spot as they reluctantly dance with the man, praying that someone would notice how uncomfortable they were and come out a stop to it. But no one did, they all kept their gazes elsewhere, completely ignoring (Y/N) and the man. “I asked you a question kid,” The man growls dangerously, gripping (Y/N)’s hips enough to leave bruises.

    “I-I’m (Y/N),” they stutter, fear getting the better of their voice. The man hums, a sick smile overtaking his features. 

   "Such a pretty name…you wanna know my name kid?“ 

    "N-no,” (Y/N) manages a bit of sass, almost proud of themself for being able to have such attitude towards such a man. “Not really,”

    “It’s Brock fucking Rumlow,” He leans in, biting down on their earlobe slightly, sending the poor kid shuddering in fear. 

   Brock Rumlow- one of the most notorious gangs in all of Brooklyn, perhaps in the entire state. 

   Two mobsters in the course of a week? It seemed nearly implausible and yet here (Y/N) was, still reeling from their run in with Bucky and now their contact with Brock. 

   “No sassy remarks anymore, eh?” 

   “Get off of me,” (Y/N) mutters, pushing at his chest weakly. Their lungs were still trying to recover from the harsh weather, leaving them feeling much weaker than the usually were. 

   “Aww, aren’t’chu you a cutie?” He purrs, his sickening smile never once leaving his lips. “I ought to wrap you up and take you home with me….” Brock growls as he licks his lips, his cold gaze running up and down (Y/N)’s form. “Oh sweetheart, the things I’d do to you,” 

   “I’m going to start screaming,” (Y/N) whispers, grunting against his hold. Their squirming comes to an abrupt stop when the feeling of something cool presses into their neck. 

   “Scream and I’ll slit your throat,” Brock sneers, his tone smug as he digs the point of his blade into their neck. (Y/N) whimpers softly, closing their eyes as something warm trickles down their neck, most likely leaving behind a trail of scarlet liquid. 

   “What do you want?” (Y/N) tries to sound stronger than they are but it was futile, Brock could see right through them. 

   “I just want a little fun dollface, take you back to my place, rough ya up a bit,” Brock purrs as he leans in once again, licking up the small rivulets of blood that had cascaded down (Y/N)’s neck. “Then I’m gonna send you back on your way and we’re gonna act like nothin’ happened, sound good?” (Y/N) whimpered, trying to shy away from Brock’s invading tongue to no avail, the blade kept them still, nipping at their skin in a way that had them wanting to puke. “Now, I’m gonna escort you out of here all nice and slow and you’re not gonna make a sound, got it? If you do,” Brock chuckles as she stashes his knife away. “I’m gonna make that much more painful for ya, sweetheart,” 

   Brock’s grips on (Y/N)’s arm was painfully tight, no doubt leaving finger shaped bruises in their skin. He dragged them down the streets of Brooklyn, towards the nicer area of town, to where all the rich snobs lived. No one here would care that (Y/N) was being manhandled by Brock, hell, no one in the slums even cared as they watched the tall, burly man guide the smaller human being along. Tears burned at (Y/N)’s eyes but they refused to let them fall, they had to keep some shred of dignity with this man and letting him see them cry would be the last straw. 

   “No tears huh?” Brock chuckled as he turned a corner, harshly jerking (Y/N) along with him, resulting in a few pops from their elbow. “Most of the time people are sobbing by now, begging me not to hurt them but you-” He chuckles again, shaking his head as he makes his way towards one of the nicer streets. “You’re different, maybe I really should keep ya, you seem like a firecracker,” 

   “Burn in hell,” (Y/N) growls, as they struggle a bit, pulling backwards as Brock moved forwards. Why the suddenly had fight in them now only god knows but it was there, a kindling flame of hatred and fear and dammit (Y/N) was going to use it. 

   “I suggest you stop struggling sweetheart,” Brock growls as he yanks them forward, nearly tripping them in the process. “I’m not opposed to slaughtering you right here and leaving your body to the dogs,” 

   “Let go of me!” (Y/N) yells, struggling to get away. They twisted and flailed, clawed and kicked, anything to get this man off of them but Brock was strong and he held on tightly, causing much discomfort on (Y/N)’s part. “Get off of me!” (Y/N) screamed helplessly, hoping that anyone would come to their rescue. Little did they know that just up the street there stood a man dressed to the nines, a Brazilian imported cigar hanging out of his mouth. 

   “Get off of me!’ a voice screamed down the street. Bucky looked up from his suit, a small smirk rising to his lips at their person’s frantic cry. Sounded like someone was going to get lucky tonight, maybe if he caught them in time he’d be able to join in too. Bucky chuckled as he huffed on his cigar, reveling in the high it gave him. His pristine shoes clicked down the street, creating a soft clacking against the somewhat nice pavement. It was the only other sound in the air other than the person’s screams and to be a bit morbid he was enjoying them. Call Bucky a sadist but god- that noise was like music to his ears. 

   “What the fuck did I tell you was gonna happen if you struggled, huh?” A voice growled as Bucky got closer. Bucky’s brows furrowed in confusion;  that voice sounded so familiar, he could’ve sworn that he had only heard it a few days ago- Bucky comes to an abrupt stop before the source of noise, his eyes quickly taking in the rather shocking scene. It was the kid from a few days ago, the shabby, slum kid, struggling against the grasp of some tall, wide man…

   “Brock Rumlow,” Bucky growls, a small smirk rising to his lips. “How strange to see you here,” Brock stops fighting the kid immediately, his entire body going rigid at Bucky’s voice. 

   “Barnes,” Brock smiles sickeningly, that same smile that had been twisting (Y/N)’s stomach for the last half an hour. “Fancy seeing you here,” Bucky smirks as he flicks his cigar to the ground, allowing it to burn out and die slowly. 

   “Who’s the kid?” Bucky gestures to (Y/N) with a simple quirk of his head as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. 

   “Just a lil’ something I picked up earlier,” Bucky looks at (Y/N), his harsh gaze raking over their trembling form. He regarded them with a look of prejudice, sneering down at them with an upturned nose. He hoped his look was enough to convince Brock that he had no care for this (Y/N) creature when in reality the look of fear on their face had stirred something deep within him. 

   “How much do you want for ‘em?” Bucky asks coolly, as though he wasn’t bargaining this persons life right before them. 

   “Sorry Barnes but you’re out of luck, this one’s a keeper,” 

   “I don’t think you understood me,” Bucky chuckles darkly as he reaches in his suit, retrieving a small albeit dangerous handgun. “How much do you want for ‘em?” He points the end of the barrel at Brock’s stomach, inconspicuous enough that if anyone walked by they wouldn’t think anything of it. 

   “Fuck you Barnes,” Brock growls as he shoves (Y/N) towards the brunette. Bucky was quick to steady (Y/N), incidentally pulling them to his chest. “I’ll get them back,” Brock chuckles darkly as he saunters off, shaking his head as he does. “Just you wait and see,” Bucky keeps his ground as Brock saunters off, keeping (Y/N) against his chest protectively but as soon as the other mobster was out of sight Bucky broke, his facade crumbling to the ground. 

   “You alright kid?” Bucky asks as he inspects (Y/N), checking them for any wounds of any sort. 

   “Why do you care?” (Y/N) grumbles as the bat his prying hands away, being mindful not to expose their bleeding neck to him. Bucky immediately retracts his hands, as though (Y/N)’s words had burned him. 

   “Really?” Bucky chuckles dryly, shaking his head in disbelief. “I just spared your fucking life kid and now you’re gonna give me sass? I could’ve let that bastard rape and kill ya but instead I saved ya and this is the thanks I get?” (Y/N) huffs as they brush their outfit off, as though trying to get rid of any remnant of Brock. 

   “I didn’t ask for help-” (Y/N)’s sentence cuts short when Bucky grips their chin, forcing them to look into his eyes. 

   “I own this town sweetheart, I own half the country, with a snap of my fingers I could have you beaten to a bloody pulp and left at my doorstep if I so desired,” (Y/N) glares up at Bucky indignantly, flaring their nostrils angrily. “So I suggest you stay on my good side, got it?” Bucky gave them a little cheeky grin as he stepped back, wiping some ‘dust’ off their chin before turning on his heels to saunter back home, his energy for the night gone. He knew (Y/N) was glaring at his back so he turned his head, giving them a little smirk as he pulled out a new cigar, placing it between his fingers as he spoke to them. “I’ll be seeing you real soon (Y/N),” And with that the mobster turned away, lighting his cigar as he walked back home, whistling a chirpy tune. 

@training-wolves, @joyfulinfluencermoon, @barnes-and-noble-girl, @marvel-love-marvel-life, @vanessa-monique, @skeletoresinthebasement, @logan8546, @bellejeunefillesansmerci, @almondbuttercup, @saradi1018, @softwhispers, @ficbucket, @bethabear12 (If I have forgotten to tag you please tell me so I can add you!) 

Is no one else going to mention/remember that Trainer Blue/Green studies abroad??
When did he study? Was this before or after red going up the mountain? Did he miss red??


request ; Ur fics are so good??!! Like theyre so cute really. Could u do an oak fic bc there’s not enough. Idrc what it’s abt. Thanks!

by anonymous

pairing ; oak x reader

words ; 2320

summary ; he gave her some of him. she broke him. he gave you everything. you fixed him.

warnings ; mentions of cheating; depressed!oak; breakups

note ; ok ok ok i wasn’t sure this made sense at first, so i had to ask jo, and she said it was good, buuuut i’m not positive. lemme know what you guys think!

A broken boy.

That’s who he was. Just out of a relationship that meant the world to him. He still loved that girl, but what she did shattered everything he was. He trusted her, so much so that he gave nearly all he had in himself, and he dated her for two years. But then she turned around and decided that his love wasn’t enough, deciding she needed someone else’s love to satisfy her sadistic needs.

A girl who loved him.

She loved him before he love the girl who broke him. But she stayed in the background, stayed out of his heart. Then, the girl came around, and y/n, the girl in love with the boy, had never felt more alone. After those two years, complete with two good-for-nothing boyfriends and getting through a debuting Broadway show with that boy, she never fell out of love with him. She just couldn’t help herself.

A story to always remember.

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Peace, Okieriete Onaodowan x Reader

Prompt: Reader likes making Oak baked goods. (Which I interpreted as ‘Reader owns a bakery’.)

Words: 1288

Author’s Note: It’s still 10:20 where I live, so technically I still put out a fic on Friday…whoops a little late!

Warnings: None?

Askbox | Masterlist

“We’re closed!” You called, not bothering to turn at the sound of the bell above the door chiming.

“Even for your favorite customer?” You instantly recognized the voice and spun to greet him with a smile.

“Customer usually implies you pay. You show up unannounced and charm your way into a box of free pastries.” You teased your old friend, who in turn leaned against the counter and shrugged casually.

“I distinctly remember striking up a deal. Free food for free tickets.” Oak grinned when you squealed in excitement.

“You got it?”

“I got it! Orchestra, right in the middle so you have an unobstructed view of my beautiful face.” He struck a few poses as you snatched the ticket from his hand, confirming its existence.

“I owe you five million free pastries! You have to bring some in for the crew, as a thank you.” You immediately got to work, stuffing as many baked goods as you could into various pink boxes from behind the counter.

“Don’t you have actual paying customers to feed?” Oak’s voice rang out. You popped up from behind the glass display case with four boxes stuffed to the brink.

“Screw them!” You insisted, pushing the boxes into his empty hands. “Thank you, I promise not to embarrass myself in front of them!”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep!” He called to you as you pushed him out the door, knowing he was on the brink of running late for the first show of the day. “See you tonight!” You stood at the glass door, watching for a moment as he struggled under the mass of boxes while crossing the busy street.

You sighed, making sure the ticket was secure in your pocket before flipping the sign at the door from ‘closed’ to ‘open’.

“Oak, let me help!” Random people called, each taking one box from him and placing it on the common table.

“What are these?” Daveed asked, raising his brow and investigating the closest box.

“My friend owns a bakery and is seeing the show tonight, she wanted to give these to you guys for luck.” That was all it took for the rampage to start. The entire cast and crew acted as vultures around the boxes, barely leaving crumbs behind.

“I call the croissant! My wife will kill me if I don’t bring one home for her!” Lin called over everyone, who parted for him to take claim over a few treats. He took note of the bakery’s name for future use before sauntering over to Oak with a skip in his step.

“So…” He started, “This friend of yours…” He wiggled his eyebrows, much to the displeasure of Oak. “They’re the friend, huh?”

“Shut up.” Oak grumbled, snatching his usual chocolate chip muffin, snapping a picture of the cast as they swarmed around the few remaining pastries, and stomped off to his dressing room.

“I cried before you even came out.” You insisted.

“Nothing sad even happens in the first few minutes!” He responded, tugging at your hand as he ushered you backstage.

“I know, but I knew what was coming.” You whispered, very aware of where you were. You dragged you across the rotating floor without stopping, weaving through the halls before stopping in what appeared to be a makeshift kitchen.

“Hello, hello!” Called the very last person Oak wanted in contact with you tonight, Lin. “The baker has arrived!”

“The genius!” You shot back, noticing Oak’s discomfort, “Oak says you’re not that smart in real life.”

“Guilty.” He shrugged, twisting his hair up into a makeshift bun, “Thanks for the goodies this morning, by the way! Oak’s been keeping you a secret for too long.” Lin elbowed him, eliciting a grunt and a whine from Oak, who had stayed awfully quiet during this interaction.

“My bakery is the best kept secret in New York.” You insisted as Oak grumbled something about seeing his dressing room before Anthony and Daveed left for the night.

“I’ll let you kids get to it.” Lin saluted, zipping his hoodie up and preparing himself for the crowd that had more than likely gathered outside the stage door. “Peace!” He threw up the peace sign, taking his leave as Oak dragged you away.

“He seemed nice.” You told him, trying to make conversation. He didn’t respond, and you wondered why Lin was such a sore subject for him.

“We’re closed!” You called, not bothering to look up from the register.

“Sorry, just here for the croissants!” Lin called, pulling his headphones down to wrap around his neck. “My wife, Vanessa, she loved the one I brought home last night. Thought I’d stop in?” He made his way to the counter, leaning against it just as Oak had the morning before.

“You guys are always welcome here, closed or not.” You got to work packaging a few croissants and a cookie. A treat for his son, you thought. “Can I ask you something?” You pushed the bag across the counter, shaking your head when he tried to pull out his wallet.


“Are you and Oak friends? He was kind of cold after we talked to you last night.”

He winced at the question.

“It’s just…I know things.”

“Things? Well, you’re a certified genius, hopefully you know something.” He let out a single loud laugh, and you prided yourself in being witty enough to elicit the sound.

“I mean, it’s not really my place to say. Oak, he’s a quiet guy. He likes to talk, though. Most of the time we talk, it’s about you.”

“Me?” You pointed to yourself, as if there was another you living somewhere that he could be referring to.

“It’s very cute, if not a little annoying. Although, now that I’ve met you and earned your trust enough to get free croissants.” He grabbed the bag off the counter, “The praise is well earned.” He took in your dumbstruck expression, “If you feel the same way about him, you should talk to him. He’s got a few things to say.” He threw up his peace sign again as he backed out the door and across the street towards the theater.

You were very grateful the doorman had recognized you on sight. With the cover story of ‘Oh, I’m bringing Oak lunch!’ and a wrapped panini in your grasp, it only took a minute for you to be let through.

You passed through pretty much unnoticed save for a few people who thanked you again for the treats from the day before. You nodded, stopping to ask where you would find Oak. They all pointed the way back towards the kitchen area you had been in before.

He sat at the table, scrolling through his phone and sipping from a water bottle, half in costume. He looked up as you entered, unsure how or why you had come.


“Hi. Lunch.” You pushed the sandwich into his hands before he could protest, “Also, do you want to go out tomorrow?”

He looked back and forth from the panini to you, wondering how the two were related.

“Uh, yes?”

Inside, a parade was running through your head. On the outside, you played it cool. Letting a simple smile grace your lips, you tried to casually back out with your head held high. You eventually ran into a wall, and then another person.

Finally, you took your leave, throwing up Lin’s signature peace sign as you ducked out.

The pieces began to put themselves together. The familiar box Lin carried in this morning. The peace sign. The smug grin Lin wore all morning.

Lin-Manuel Miranda!” Oak called, pushing out of his chair as he heard a distant scream of panic.

(Dis)like at First Sight - Seungcheol (S. Coups) Angst

Originally posted by souppa

 Request: Arranged marriage with hoshi or hiphop teams? Cold hearted, being a meanie stuff like that? Fluff ending please ❤

Word Count:1352

Genre: Fluff/Angst(?)

Member/Group: Seungcheol of SEVENTEEN

Summary: Every girl dreams of the day she gets to walk down the isle in a white gown, so how come yours felt more like a nightmare?

A/N: I’m sorry posts are kinda more spaced out now, I am back in school and preparing for my last exams in the next few months along with a few band competitions. I’ll probably post more on the weekends and a few times throughout the week.

 It’s strange how quickly emotions can fog up human judgement. Rage can turn to grief in mere seconds, which can cause anything to go south. You always hear about arranged marriages, yet its quite rare to meet actual participants in the old-fashioned act. Maybe if you and your surprise fiancé had known a bit sooner than a week before your wedding about what lied in your futures, he wouldn’t have been so mad about it. Yet here you are, in a bustling room of women, getting ready to marry somebody and close to tears. 

 Your hair was in a classic up do with a a sheet of lace veiled over your head. The cream colored gown that was wrapped around your figure accentuated points and curves you where never aware that you had, and your make up did wonders to compliment your skin tone. It’s amazing what a few thousand dollars can do to someone with the help of a mask of make up and fake happiness.

 “(Y/N), are you almost ready? Your father is waiting outside the entrance to the church, and the organist has already played eight songs!” Your soon-to-be mother in law called from outside the door. A stray tear dripped down your cheek as you clenched the skirt of your dress. You quickly checked to make sure that you’re make up was not running, then you finally stepped out the door to get into the limousine.

 Inside the church, Seungcheol’s family waited alongside yours. Long pieces of silky white fabric were draped along each pew, with a light red carpet splitting the room in half. Orchids in vases were scattered along the edges of the room, and a table near the entrance displayed a book for each guest to sign before going to sit in their spots. The sound of an ancient organ echoed through the room, the melodic ebony and ivory keys releasing a sound that reflected a joyous occasion. At the head of the alter, a not-so-eager Seungcheol stood with his hands crossed over his pelvis. His suit was neatly pressed without a single piece of lint or hair caught on the smooth black fabric, and his hair had been neatly styled. 

 “Is she going to show up?”

 “I heard that she is in love with someone else and is planning on ditching the ceremony!”

 “I bet she’s only in it for the money…” Bouts of gossip extended from both families mouths, some positive and some negative. Suddenly, the creaking of the large oak doors opening interrupted every conversation.

 You and your father took a step into the room, and every person seemed to stop breathing as they took in your appearance. Your (length) hair was neatly pushed back and adorned with a long lace veil, but the natural makeup you wore still was eye-catching even when semi hidden. Your long gown trailed for a few feet, and the pristine bodes was covered in sparkly jewels with the occasional pearl thrown in. They expected the best considering how wealthy the Choi family was, but even this exceeded their expectations. The only person that was not in complete awe of you was your soon to be husband, Seungcheol.

 As you reached the alter, Seungcheol stepped forward to let you shift from your father’s arm to his. 

“You look nice today, brat.” It was supposed to be a compliment, but his cold tone and icy features pierced very ounce of happiness in the words and almost made it sound like a threat.

 “Thank you.” You looked down, and the Minister began the ceremony.

 “I now pronounce you man and wife.” As soon as the words left the old mans mouth, cheers erupted around the room. Seungcheol’s iron grip latched onto your hand and you both turned around to walk out. Flower petals rained down on your heads as you left, but you couldn’t get over the overwhelming feeling of self-pity that had begun to sink in your stomach. Even when the door to the limousine was shut, nothing but cold stares were exchanged between you and Seungcheol.

 “How about you tell me a bit about yourself?” The mousy voice that left your mouth was almost alien to you, but Seungcheol nodded nonetheless.

 “My name is Choi Seungcheol, and I am 21 years old. I specialize and business, and my father arranged this marriage because he considers me ‘anti-social’ and thinks that I would otherwise be hopeless in finding myself a wife, and your father just so happened to make a deal with him. What about you?” His words felt like poison stings, but you decided to try and be kind anyway.

 “I am (L/N) (Y/N), a (Age) year old woman of all trades. Until recently, I was working part time to earn the money to help pay my family’s bills and hopefully get to open my own bakery one day. It’s nice to meet you, and I hope I can be a suitable wife for you.” A smile peaked through your lips, but Seungcheol simply avoided your gaze and looked out the window.

 “Sounds like you married me for the money, huh?”

 All evening, you and Seungcheol were busy introducing yourselves at the wedding reception. His family seemed to be fun of you, but his frosty ways didn’t change at all. After the ‘first dance’, you both quietly ate and sat next to each other as the party went on without you. After the last piece of cake was served and the last drop of wine had been drank, you and your new husband clambered over to the car that would escort you to the hotel you would be staying at for the night. The drive was a silent one, and nothing felt better than finally getting to step out of the tense space.

 The hotel room was quite simple. The walls and floors were matte nude tones, but each room contained utilities that were most likely more expensive than anything you had ever used in all your years of living.

 “This room is really nice-”

 “Shut up. I get it, you are coming from a poor lifestyle, but I’m not here to hold your hand. Don’t act like this is even love, and just stay out one my way.” His words brought tears to your eyes and fire to your cheeks. You let out a croaky gasp, and did something you never thought you would do; you hit him on the chest. It wasn’t hard or anything, but the force caused your knees to buckle and you fell into a heap on the floor.

 “You know what, Seungcheol? I’m trying to make the best of the situation, and you are making it super hard. Yes, I did agree to this to help my family, but that is what love looks like! You are a cold hearted bastard, and this isn’t how marriage works! At least try to be nice, and maybe one day we can learn to love  each other…” Sniffles left your mouth and you hugged your knees. The room was silent, but the growing worry that your pleas had fallen on deaf ears was ringing violently throughout your head.

 Never had you felt so alone with another person. But then again, never had you felt as shocked as the moment that Seungcheol actually crumbled to the floor and rested a warm hand on your shoulder.

 “You know what… I’m sorry. I don’t really know what marriage is like, but now I realize how hard this day must have been for you. I just… I want to tell you that I’m willing to try, I guess.” His thumb swiped over your cheek and collected your tears, and your watery eyes finally glanced up at him. For the first time that day, a small smile was apparent on Seungcheol’s face. You stared at him for a few seconds, then embraced him with all your strength.

 “Let’s try this. Together.”

You're Beautiful (Okieriete Onaodowan x Reader)

masterlist   /   askbox  /   prompts

Prompt: Could you do an oak x chubby reader fic? Sorry I don’t have a plot :( Maybe where the reader is feeling a bit sad about her body one day or something? It’s okay if you don’t want too but thanks anyway

Author’s Note: This one’s kind of short but I hope it served it’s purpose, sorry anon for how long it took to get out, this is something I wanted to handle delicately, and plan carefully. I’ve been writing this off and on for weeks, definitely a journey.

Warning: Body insecurity, self-deprecation, and mild cursing.

Pairing: Oak x Reader

Word Count: 520+

You’ve always been insecure about your body, though Okieriete Onaodowan waltzed into your life, the feeling hadn’t surfaced in a while. Well not until recently, anyway. It was silly, you almost immediately deemed, the moment you saw some of the cast still clad in their sweats, and somehow managed to be without flaw. Let’s just say those in costume were definitely comparable to those in sweats. You hugged your arms over your stomach self-consciously, feeling insecure about your appearance. As Oak introduced you, you plastered a smile on your lips and shook the hand of every face in Richard Rogers, all while attempting to bury your insecurities about yourself in vain.

After you were all aquatinted, your boyfriend tugs you by your hand in the direction of his dressing room, to show you around and so he could change into his opening costume. Oak seemed oblivious to the thoughts intruding your head, as his words regarding some anecdote flew as quickly over your head as it did his mouth, and for that you were grateful.

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Pairing: Okieriete Onaodowan x unnamed Female reader
Words: 1885
Rating: Mature (It’s smut y’all)
Warning (not really): This is my first smut ever! You can probably tell by the style of writing that I’m more acquainted with writing in a 3rd person narrative instead of the 2nd person, which isn’t usually the best for smut. But I tried my best and I will continue to try and improve my smut writing skills. Besides that, I am more familiar with writing angst and fluff. Appreciate Oak more!I’m open to requests since it’s summer where I live, so go and send them in! Enjoy! 

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May we Meet Again

You can find my Masterlist HERE!

Prompt: Can I have one based off the Drabble you wrote me about being Daryls younger twin and Merle’s little sister. Please and Thank you! (Then messages me later with more details) Maybe have Negan come to Alexandria and the my brother won’t let him get near me or take anything from our house. I don’t like Negan either and he will have to win me over. I have a regular bow and arrow and take out a few Saviours. – Via @cherieann-2001

Ships: Negan x DarylsYoungerTwin!Reader
Words: 2,023
Curses, violence
Category: On the scale between angst and fluff


You were sitting on a window seat after being locked in your room by your two older brothers, Daryl and Merle. After much screaming and curses your throat now felt like sandpaper. You had resigned yourself to watch the ordeal of the Saviours stealing and terrorizing your friends.

You were trying your best to stay calm and to control your anger as you watched Rick carrying around the weapon that had murdered your friends. You were subconsciously scratching deep valleys into the glass with the iron tip of one of your arrows as you gritted your teeth in frustration.

You had been in your sparsely decorated room for hours now, you didn’t know the exact time as you didn’t keep a watch.

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Summer Rain [Okieriete Onaodowan x Reader]

Summary: what else are you supposed to do but run in the rain after finding out you’ve been in love with your best friend?

Word count: 2,334 (the longest one yet!)

Warnings: cursing, alcohol… 

A/N: The fluffiest of fluffs for Oak, because he deserves it. Thanks to the hamwriters groupchat, I finally had inspiration to write for Oak and I’m pretty happy with the result. I hope y’all like it!

askbox | masterlist

You could give a million excuses to why you showed up on his doorstep like this, at that time. You could say the storm caught you by surprise, or maybe you were around and your umbrella broke and you remembered he lived close by.

Blatant lies to cover a moment of courage with no limitations.

It was 1 a.m. when you woke up that night, the storm making the New York you knew your whole life just a gray scenario outside your window. Your forehead covered in sweat, but a smile across your face.

You were in love with your best friend and the dream you had just proved everything you suspected for weeks.

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the fear of losing you. [linstead oneshot.]

- Based on the prompt I received from @wr-trash about Erin being in a hostage situation. This was a new area of writing for me and I hope I did your idea justice! (: [tw: violence, abuse]

She felt the cold metal dig into the small of her back and she winced, dropping her own weapon onto the carpet because they now had a loaded shotgun trained on her abdomen and there wasn’t a chance in hell she was going to be able to squirm or punch or kick a single one of them with enough force to get away without someone pulling the trigger and blasting her straight in the head. Hank was cursing and screaming in her earpiece to ‘get the hell out of there’ and to ‘hold on they were coming but damn it you shouldn’t have gone in alone’ and her phone kept vibrating over and over again in the back pocket of her jeans and she figured it was Halstead or maybe even Upton because the brand new detective was her partner after all.

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-Anon request


“I’ll get it, Uncle!” you called to your uncle, Bilbo Baggins, trotting over to the round oak door. Swinging it open you raised an eyebrow at the two -attractive- dwarves stood on the front step. “Yes? Can I help you?”

The one with the long dark hair looked you up and down slowly with a wicked smile on his face and a mischievous glint in his eye, before saying, “Yes, I think you can.”

The one next to him with blond long hair and beard elbowed him in the ribs and smiling pleasantly at you. “We were looking for Bilbo, does he still live here?”

“Of course,” you told him with a friendly smile, stepping aside to make room for the two of them to come in. “Please, he’s in the kitchen.”

Directing the two dwarves into the kitchen, you called to Bilbo, “Uncle, umm, you have visitors?”

The middle-aged hobbit turned around, a plate still clutched in one hand. “Who is i-?” he stopped midsentence. “Ah,” was all he followed with. Then a smile broke across his face and he opened his arms wide and the two dwarves bounded up and clapped him on the back. “It’s good to see you again, Fili, Kili,” he laughed. “After all this time, as well.”

Interrupting the odd greetings, you cleared your throat loudly and raised an eyebrow when they turned to you. “Umm, we haven’t been introduced?” you encouraged.

“Of course, of course,” Bilbo smiled, jovially, “Y/N, these are my friends from my time with Gandalf: Fili and Kili.”

With a warm smile, you grasped each one of their firm, calloused hands in turn and gave them a, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Uncle seldom discusses his time with Gandalf.” You shot your uncle a look then, that said ’but you will be’.

“Fili, Kili,” you addressed them, “Do you want to come through to the living room while my Uncle makes tea?”

“Sounds good,” Kili smiled, striding through doors at random.

After you’d shown them into the living room, you retracted back to the kitchen where you eyed your uncle and said, “Are they going to be staying?”

Bilbo look shocked. “Of course not, why should they?”

You rolled your eyes and set him to work on making tea for four. “Because, they’ve come all this way and it’s polite to offer,” you told him sternly.

He just grumbled something about untidy dwarves.

A Strange Man and A Bartender.

The wide streets were lined with grey, rectangular buildings that spat dark smoke and white hot sparks at passers by.  Workman, young and old, scurried up and down the road like rodents. Crates, barrels, bits of timber and sheets of metal were hoisted on to mens sholders and transported from factory to factory. Irene felt claustrophobic - The constant sound of metal scraping against metal, the men shouting at each other from the roadside and people of all sorts talking, crowded the streets and made her feel decidedly ill. There was a drunken brawl taking place to her left, a man whoring - on the open road - to her right and another individual taking a piss against the building just in front of her. The throws of people seemed un-phased by the commotion and Irene wondered if perhaps it was normal for them. With a strange twisting sensation in her gut Irene realised that one day this might be her normal too. She kept walking at reasonable pace, determined to look like she belonged amongst the city’s inhabitants. She stopped to ask directions but found that the people were as cold and hard as Birmingham itself. Not that they hadn’t earned the right to be - The war had made everyone cold.

The streets began to narrow and split into lanes. Confused, she checked the piece of paper in her hand again. The directions she had been given were not near detailed enough and in fact mentioned nothing of the three pronged street she had come to. She stood there in the middle of the road utterly confused. Where the fuck was she? The noise, the smoke, the fucking people. She wanted to go home. Solemnly, she reminded herself that that place didn’t exist anymore. Lost in thought, she didn’t hear the sound of the carriage speeding up the road behind her until it was too late. “Get off the fucking road,” the driver screamed and Irene turned around just in time to see a horse and carriage, driving madly up the street, heading straight for her. “Get off the fucking road, you stupid bitch,” the man yelled again. Somehow something in her brain clicked and she managed to fling herself out of the way just as the carriage flew past. Irene fell hard on her knees, her skin had broken and her skirt had torn. She ripped off the tattered parts of her skirt. Her once ankle length dress now sat mid thigh. Irene tried to mop up the blood that had bloomed on her badly grazed knees. Using the part of her skirt she had torn off she attempted to clean out the dirt that had settled in the abrasion. A loud bang erupted to the right. Curious, she stood up and peered into the dark alley way where the sound came from. The alley way wasn’t particularly special apart from the wooden sign that hung on the establishment at the end of the alley.’ The Garrison’. Was that the place? She checked her bit of paper again and decided that even if it wasn’t she could at least ask for directions. She untied her curly black hair from its bun in attempt to make herself look slightly more presentable. She took a deep calming breath, the heel of her boot clicked as she took her first step toward the place that would change her life.  

The noise from inside the Garrison rivalled that of the noise in the Birmingham streets. Men sat in clusters, telling stories of glory from the good old days, over drink. Some men sat at the bar and just drank in silence, downing glass after glass of brown liquid - they were the men trying to drown their sorrows. Others came for all sorts of reasons.

It was a nice pub and Irene could see herself sitting in there drinking. The mahogany oak and patterned wall paper made the place seem warm and inviting and the people, though loud, seemed fairly content. She made her way over to the bar, weaving through the pint carrying men. She dodged wondering hands and ignored lecherous glares with a practised ease. In her own town, the barkeep at the pub knew everything about everyone. There was not one person in that place that hadn’t passed through his doors. She hoped it was the same in the city. The bartenders face was haggard and old, but nonetheless kind. She smiled at him and put both her elbows on the bar top. He flipped a glass in front of her.

The deep oak doors flew wide open an in walked a man - if you could call him that. From the looks he got, he seemed like something akin to a god. Some people in the bar openly stared, others risked quick secretive glances over the rim of their drinks but all were silent. The man seemed oblivious to this, and in three long strides took a place on the bar right next to her. He was tall - and towered above her. Not that that was much of a feat, she had to stand on her tippy toes to reach a comfortable height over the bar. His broad square shoulders and small waist made him a cutting figure in a suit. A peaked hat was pulled down over the front half of his face obscuring it from view. She was instantly intrigued but kept her head facing the barman. She simply hadn’t the time for mysterious men. The barman was the first person to openly address him,

“Irish is on the house Mr.Shelby.”

The man only nodded in response as a bottle of Irish whiskey was put down in front of him and her glass tumbler was dragged across the table. The other people in the pub had slowly resumed talking and the noise began to build again. The Shelby man placed two coins down for his drink. The man was generous, but from the way his eyes cut into her she wasn’t sure if he was just parading his wealth. He didn’t seem the type though, sensible hat, sensible shoes.

“A drink for the lady?” the barkeep smiled returning his attention to her.

“No. Thank you. I’m looking for someone actually, a Ms. Elizabeth Grey.” The Shelby man visibly tensed at my side. I continued, choosing to ignore his strange reaction. “I was told I could find her here. If you could point me her way it’d be much appreciated.”

“What business do you have with Polly?,” The Shelby man asked before the barman had the chance to respond.

Irene turned towards him. “I’m sorry,” She said in the most patronising voice she could muster, a saccharine smile plastered on her face. “I didn’t realise this was a three way conversation. To whom am I speaking?”

“I apologise for not formally introducing myself, Thomas Shelby.” He looked her up and down. He was sizing her up. She felt herself flush, suddenly overly conscious of her grazed knees, messy hair and short skirt.

“Now Mr. Thomas Shelby what relation do you have to Ms.Elizabeth Grey? Are you her father perhaps?”

Infuriatingly impassive he replied “I can’t say that I am.”

“Then surely you are either her husband, brother or son? In Birmingham you could even be all three.”

A smiled played about his lips but he just shook his head - no.

“Then I do not see what business I have speaking to you.” In an act of complete dismissal she turned her back to him, eyes set on the barman she inclined her head, telling him to answer her question.

Thomas Shelby stood, turning to face the rest of the room. The bar, again, became silent.

“Get the fuck out - All of you”

He didn’t need to ask twice, people abandoned half drunk beers on the table and simply stood and hurried towards the door. No protest, no argument. Just obedience.

The last man left…

And she was left alone, with a strange man and a bartender.

She's Dirty Dancin' On Me [a Sebastian Smythe smut]

Request: Sebastian smut where the reader ties his hands with his tie and is wearing nothing but his blazer and underwear as she teases and seduces him.

a/n: oh i love my friend for requesting this, love youuuu xxx

How the hell did Sebastian manage to get himself into this one? And how the hell did you restrain his hands with his tie?! The Warber squirms in the sleek brown wood chair, praying nobody will come into the common room. Not a lot of students are here on the weekends; most go home to their families. And thank god, because Sebastian really did not want anyone seeing his dick out on display.

Again, he tugs at the tie, huffing angrily with a snarl. He hates not being in control. The giant oak door creaks open ever so slowly, anxiety bubbling up in the brunette. You slide in, quickly shutting the door behind you. Sebastian’s bright green eyes enlarge when he sees his Dalton blazer on your upper body. Your breasts peek out as you remove your shorts, revealing your thin underwear.

A groan escapes his throat, head bending backwards, eyes still focused on you. He tries pulling his wrists apart, going to throw out a snarky comment, until music erupts from your phone. His eyes squint, hearing the sound of New Kids On The Block’s ‘Dirty Dancing’ begin. “Wasn’t in the mood for dancin’, forget about romancing, ‘cause I already got a lady.” you rap, smirking, slowly strutting towards him. “Wasn’t tryin’ to be flirty, wasn’t feeling dirty, 'til this shorty started runnin’ on me.”

Dipping your fingers in your underwear, his breath hitches, back arching against the chair. His white button down stretches across his chest, becoming almost see through. “With her itty-bitty waist and her pretty pretty face, and the leanest, meanest, baddest, baddest body…” you step out of your underwear, tossing them aside. “Didn’t have no time to waste, she was looking for a test, and she was wanting me to party.” you hum, swinging your legs around his waist.

He bites his lip, panting while he racks his brain for the lyrics. “Oh, it’s so crazy, she’s like Baby, I’m like Swayze,” he smirks, bucking his hips up. “I’m said, oh, and I’m burning up…So, let’s turn it up, I said turn it up now…” he gasps, feeling your pussy sink down on his dick. The muscles in his back moves, arms hugging the chair.

Licking your lips, you let your hands tangle in his growing sleek light brown locks. After you adjust to his size, you harmonize the chorus with him. “She’s dirty dirty dancing, dirty dancing on me. She’s dirty dirty dancing, dirty dancing on me.” You rock your hips on his, moving your upper body as well. “She’s dirty dirty dancing, dirty dancing, dirty dancing on me. She’s dirty dirty dancing, dirty dancing on me.” You start unbuttoning his shirt, causing a moan to bubble inside him.

Following your upper body with his to the rhythm, Sebastian leans into your ear, tugging on it with his teeth lightly. “Now, I ain’t looking for no drama, I don’t want karma 'cause my baby sittin’ in bed at home.” he pouts, bucking his hips up, gasping when cool air hits his exposed chest. “She knows that I be lying and that I be trying to get this shorty with me all alone… Pretty pretty lips and her big 'ol hips, it’s getting hotter when she touches me with her fingertips-” His breath hitches, watching your fingers trace his abs. “And her sexy eyes and those big 'ol thighs…” he says breathlessly, mouth hanging open as you flutter your eyelashes at him. “It’s getting hotter like The Block up in the summertime-”

“Oh, it’s so crazy, she’s like Baby, I’m like Swayze.” you sing, letting the navy Dalton blazer fall off one shoulder, giving him a full show of your breast. He eyes it before smirking, bending his neck and taking your nipple in his mouth. “I’m said, oh, and I’m burning up,” you gasp, bouncing up and down on his dick. “So, let’s turn it up, I said turn it up now.” you purr, tugging on his hair, pulling him back.

Sebastian glares, stomach scrunching in on itself as he yanks on his restraints. “Now, I know that my girl is alone and she’s been blowing me up on my phone,” he echoes, snapping his hips up, smirking at your whimper. “But I can shower when I get back home, 'cause tonight I’m dancing dirty, yeah…” he hums, nibbling on your collarbone while you repeat the bridge.

A shiver runs through you and you groan, “Sebastian….I’m - ugh!” you cry out, feeling his dick twitch. He nods understandingly, hips bucking up once more, chestnut strands of hair falling in front of his green orbs. Withering, you cum at the same time as he does, chanting his name breathlessly.

“Y/N…” Sebastian hisses, panting while coming down from his high. His pale, sweaty chest rising and falling; he stares at you lazily, broad shoulders stretched behind him. “You… look hot in my Dalton blazer, babe.” he smirks, winking at you. “Just… just one question…how’d you get my tie so tight?”

Just friends ~ Part three

Originally posted by coupdetop

Originally posted by queenwithcollars

A/N ~ Ok so here is where things get interesting. And please don’t read if the subject is a trigger for you. In no way am I romanticizing what happens in this chapter, it is purely fiction and nothing more.

Theme ~ Best friends

Pairing ~ Choi Seung hyun x Reader

Rated ~ Angst/Fluff

Warnings ~ Contains unwanted sexual advances

Part | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |

You didn’t sleep at all that night, the thoughts of Seung hyun chasing you down the beach and the way the moonlight hit his face just right kept you awake.

It’s not like you hadn’t noticed how handsome he was, like the sun in the sky it was plain to see, you had just never allowed yourself to think of him in a romantic way before because you knew you weren’t his type. Seung hyun had an acquired taste in life and his choice in women was one of them, everything he wanted in his companion was everything you weren’t, the complete opposite in fact.

But there was something about last night, the way he held you in the water and carried you back to the beach, the way he placed his jacket on you when you were cold and carried your shoes for you, the way he looked at you when you stood at your door. There was something in his eyes and in the way he was behaving, his body stiff, reminiscent of the first time you had met him.

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