shift station

Derek Hale first saw Stiles Stilinski on February 15th. They were both standing at the now discounted candy display at Target, Stiles grabbing all the heart shaped Reece’s and Derek the candy hearts (they don’t taste like plastic, shut up Laura).

He was mesmerized by the other man, from his disheveled hair to his hands, Derek was entranced. Even the way Stiles moved had a certain odd grace and charm to it, or it did until Stiles tripped into the shelf. 

Boxes upon boxes of candy had rained down and Stiles had laughed, head thrown back as he did before he said, “Typical. St. Valentine is really out to get me.”

The laugh had sounded like music to Derek’s ears, but it also reminded him that he was openly staring at the man on the floor. He had offered his hand to help him up, which Stiles accepted and then introduced himself. The skin on skin contact was electric, Derek hadn’t let go once Stiles was standing, but then again neither had Stiles.

It has escalated from there, they ended up getting coffee at the local shop down the road, and then they ended up back at Stiles apartment where they spent several eventful hours in Stiles bedroom. 

Derek hadn’t expected Stiles’ number, he hadn’t expected Stiles to want to see him again, so he was pleased when Stiles had taken Derek’s phone and put his number in before calling himself so he’d have Derek’s too. 

When Derek had left the next morning he hadn’t expected Stiles to call for at least a few days, so when his phone rang before he was even home, he figured he had left something behind. When Stiles asked him to lunch Derek realized that nothing about Stiles was what he usually expected in other people. 

The entire next year of Derek’s life felt like the best kind of whirlwind. Stiles was everything he didn’t know he wanted in a partner. He was funny and smart, he was an asshole and incredibly honest, he was a hot cup of coffee in the morning and cold pizza for dinner. Derek loved it, Derek loved him.

They skipped the whole Valentine’s celebration the following year, neither of them were really big fans of the day. Stiles ended up picking up a shift at the station and Derek babysat for Laura so she and Mike could have a night out. 

The next day Stiles and Derek ended up at the same Target to get discounted candy, except this time when Stiles ended up on the ground it was because he was on one knee proposing to Derek and not because he tripped over his own feet. 

It wasn’t a typical proposal, but then again, they weren’t a typical couple. They were so much more. 

inell  asked:

Muffled, from the other side of the door - Stiles/Derek

I changed door to window, oops.

“Stiles, you’re 17 years old. You can’t possibly know what love is, let alone be in love!” The sheriff is yelling down stairs. If Derek knew what was happening in the house he wouldn’t have snuck in through the window. He guesses Stiles finally told his dad about them. 

Fuck.

“You have no idea what I can and can’t know!” Stiles yells back. Whatever transpired between the Stilinski men in the last few minutes obviously hasn’t gone as well as Derek hoped it would. He was kind of hoping that John would be a little man, but ultimately accept them, and invite him over for dinner. 

“You’re 17! He’s 25!” John yells again, Derek scents the air and smells whiskey in the distant. “I can have him arrested for statutory rape!” There is a bit of a scuffle like Stiles is trying to wrestle the phone away from his dad. 

“Don’t!” Feet pound up the stairs and in seconds Stiles is at the door. Derek moves to the window, knowing he isn’t welcome. 

“Mieczyslaw!” John is right behind him. 

“Dad stop!” Derek can smell tears and he knows their Stiles’. He slips out the window and shuts it, but stay on the roof. Stiles’ room fills with light from the hallway. “You don’t know what I have been through the last 3 years. Derek has been there for me. Just because you know about all the shit that goes bump in the night doesn’t mean what he’s done for me, and what I’ve done for him goes away.”

John says something else, but he’s still out in the hallway, and it’s hard to hear. 

“Just go away. I’m done talking to you dad.” Stiles slams the door and the light that came in from the hallway is gone. The springs from the bed squeal as Stiles falls onto the mattress. The same mattress that a couple days ago the shared while the sheriff pulled a double shift at the station. 

Soft sobs come through the air, and Derek really wants to go in, but he also feels like he really shouldn’t. Whatever this is, it’s between Stiles and his dad. 

Derek hears a soft, “fuck,” and his heart breaks a little bit. A knock comes from the door and a blur of light comes into the room. 

“Kiddo,” John’s voice pipes up. Stiles doesn’t say anything back. The light goes away, but now there are two heartbeats in the room. 

“I love him dad,” it muffled, and so soft Derek almost misses him. 

Hearing it, is something Derek didn’t expect. The three words he’s been wanting to say for a while now but he never knew if Stiles felt the same way. Things are still kind of new, he didn’t want to say something too soon and ruin whatever this, whatever they, could be. 

“I’m not happy about this kiddo. But if you love him, the least I can do is invite the guy over for dinner.” The springs squeak as John sits on the mattress too. 

Derek feels weird listening to anymore, so he jumps off the roof and makes his way home. The words Stiles saying swirling around in his head. When he gets home, he gathers enough courage to text Stiles. 

He says: “Goodnight Stiles. I love you.” And waits for a response. 

It comes nearly an hour later and it says: “Goodnight Der, love you too”

Derek falls asleep easily that night, knowing Stiles loves him, and he loves Stiles. 

Concept: I am gainfully employed, and every day ride my bike to work even though my job is an evening shift at a gas station in the middle of Iowa thanks to my knowledge of the secret roads. I watch the sunset and read my book in between serving customers. A significant number of them give off a vague aura of being Not Quite Human. I have nothing to fear from the Thistle Men, for the corn protects me

You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away

(For the record, the song by the Beatles is fantastic and I recommend. That being said, this is not like the song. Instead it’s basically just the entirety of their relationship)


“Chloe?” The redhead tilted her head up from the textbook she was currently staring at in Barden’s best little coffee shop, turning to face the boy who said her name.

“Yeah, Jesse?” Chloe asked, a sweet smile painted on her lips, one that meant for both peace and war regarding her Beca.

(Her Beca, she mentally scolded herself, noting the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing they had going on hardly made the brunette hers.)

“I was wondering if you’d help me? With uh… Beca, actually. I know you two are close and I was wondering if maybe you’d help me ask her out?” Jesse nervously bounced on the heels of the shoes, grasping a textbook in one hand and a coffee in the other.

The thing about Jesse was he was a good kid. He was sweet and funny and nice. And although he had been pestering Beca for the majority of the year, the redhead couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. It wasn’t like the brunette who was the object of his affection hated him. They hung out willingly every once in a while from what Chloe remembered. It’s just that Chloe had a good thing going with Beca. Secret, private, and sweet. This was a grey area.

“Oh um… I don’t really know why you’d want my help,” Chloe said, nervously smiling at the boy.

“Well I just know she talks about you a lot. How you helped recruit her for the Bellas and everything way back at the start of the year. It’s the end of the year now and… you’re a senior and she’s a freshman. I just figured you had some mentoring role and could… extend the service to me. Mentor me in the art of wooing her,” Jesse scratched his neck before grabbing the seat next to the redhead, “here, look!”

Jesse pulled out a laptop and notebook, opening them each up to reveal notes on how to ask the DJ out and a mix in progress.

“What’s this?” Chloe giggled, looking at the screen she was being shown.

“I’ve been trying to make a mix for her. And I was gonna get a boombox and stand outside her window, or maybe serenade her in the park or-”

Chloe had pretty much droned off, thinking about the time she jokingly made Beca a mix and serenaded her in the park with a small Beats Pill and some dorky ‘Dancing Queen’ By ABBA mixed with more ‘dorky jams’ as Chloe called them.

‘I’m eighteen you know,’ Beca had said.

‘You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only eighteen,’ Chloe sang jokingly, ‘just doesn’t have the same ring to it.’

‘Whatever, you dork. Let’s get back to your apartment and I can show you how it’s done.’

‘The mixing or the serenading?’ the redhead cocked a brow.

‘Both. And maybe something else,’ Beca winked, grabbing the redhead’s hand and the speaker.

‘I like the sound of that.’

“That sounds… I dunno, Jesse. Sounds like something too cliche for her,” Chloe said, trying to give the best advice possible, despite it hurting her.

“Oh. Okay. Well… what do you think I should do?” He asked her.

“You know, I think you should just ask her. Honestly you shouldn’t have to rely on a big gesture to get her to say yes. She either will or she won’t, but it’s just a date you’re asking her out on. Not a proposal,” Chloe pointed out, collecting her things to leave.

“Where’re you going?” He asked innocently.

“I’ve got Bellas practice in fifteen minutes. See ya, Jesse! Good luck!”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Still taking Bechloe prompts? How about SuperChloe with secret identity and normal human beca that has a crush on Chloe's secret Identity?

So I got waaaaaaaaay to into writing this. Hope you enjoy!

—–

Beca looked down at her phone before looking back at Chloe, squinting.

“What?” Chloe asked, confused. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” Beca said, still looking puzzled. “It’s just… the Barden Bella really looks like you.” She looked back down at her phone.

“Who?” Chloe asked.

“Are you kidding? The superhero that’s been whizzing around Barden saving people all month? Do you not look at the news? Or Twitter? Or anything?”

“Let me see her,” Chloe said sitting down on Beca’s sofa beside her.

Beca showed her the blurry photo someone had snapped of this new mysterious superhero.

“I don’t see it,” Chloe said, tilting her head.

“I mean, you’re cuter, obviously,” Beca said, zooming in on the photo. “But I think if you took your glasses off and put on one of those masks then maybe…”

“Well without my glasses, I’d be blind,” Chloe said, standing up and returning to the kitchen.

“I wasn’t saying this is you, you just look like her,” Beca said laughing. “I like your glasses anyway.”

Chloe laughed and shook her head. “You’re full of the compliments today.”

“Yeah,” Beca said. “Hey, chuck me a coke will you?”

“Sure,” Chloe said, tossing Beca a can without thinking.

The sheer force of the throw caused the can to explode all over Beca as soon as it hit her.

“Dude! Did you shake this up?”

“No!” Chloe said, half amused, half terrified. She had to be more careful.

“Well maybe you should stop working out. Jesus, the Hulk would throw gentler than that,” Beca said, standing up. She went into her room to change and Chloe chastised herself for being so careless with her strength.

“You don’t have to look that guilty,” Beca said when she came back into the room. “It was just coke.” She reached into the refrigerator and got her own can, tentatively opening it over the sink. “You okay?” Beca asked.

“Yeah,” Chloe said, smiling. She ran a hand through her hair and it cause her top to ride up, exposing a graze on her hip.

“Dude, what happened?” Beca said, rushing over.

“Oh, I just hit it on a wall,” Chloe said, pulling her shirt down. “No big deal.”

Beca raised an eyebrow to show she didn’t believe her before lifting the shirt up slightly so she could see the scrape again. “Looks like it hurts,” Beca said. She lightly touched the area around it, and Chloe’s breath hitched slightly.

She had gotten the graze when she had been out last night, patrolling the streets. She’d been moving too quickly and caught her foot on something which sent her crashing to the ground. It hadn’t hurt, and she didn’t even notice it until she showered when she’d gotten home. Her knees were also scraped.

“It doesn’t hurt,” she said, softly.

They were quiet for a minute, just looking at each other. Beca was still holding the hem of Chloe’s shirt.

“Chlo’?”

“Hmm?”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Beca asked.

Chloe swallowed. She wanted to tell her. So bad. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t tell anyone.

Chloe shook her head.

“If you say so,” Beca said, letting her shirt go and heading back into the living room.

Chloe let out a breath before joining Beca on the sofa.

“What are you doing tonight?” Beca asked. “Wanna hang out? Watch a movie?”

“I wish I could,” Chloe said. “I’ve got this thing to do tonight.”

“Okay,” Beca said, not quite hiding her disappointment. “Maybe when you’re done with your thing you could come over?”

“Sure,” Chloe said. “I’ll try.”

She hated lying to Beca, but she couldn’t exactly tell her that she was planning to patrol the streets of Barden fighting crime all night.

—–

It was around 11pm when Beca finally left the radio station that night. Since Chloe had had other plans, Beca agreed to take Jesse’s shift at the radio station so he could take his girlfriend out. She locked the doors to the station and began meandering back to her apartment.

It had been so quiet since Stacie had moved out and then in with Aubrey and Chloe. Beca had been secretly hoping that Chloe would want to move in with her but she’d never had the courage to ask. So Beca was alone for now.

If she hadn’t been so preoccupied thinking about Chloe, she would have heard the footsteps rapidly approaching her from behind.

Chloe was halfway across town when she got the… feeling.

It was stronger than usual.

She closed her eyes and tried to pinpoint where it was coming from.

Her eyes snapped open.

The University radio station

Beca!

Beca groaned as she pulled herself to her feet, leaning against the wall.

She reached up and touched the spot on her forehead where she’d been hit. When she saw the blood on her hand she threw up.

She reached for her bag so she could get her phone and call someone but of course, she no longer had her bag.

She looked around to see if there was anyone about, and she saw something red and blue streak past her. Was that… the Barden Bella?

It felt like seconds later that they were back, carrying her bag.

“Shit,” they said, “you’re hurt.”

“Hey, you got my bag back!” She said happily. Then she looked into the eyes behind the mask and studied them. They were so familiar. “I know you…” She said, before throwing up again, thankfully missing the costumed superhero in front of her.

“You need to go to hospital,” they said, their voice loaded with concern. She knew the voice too, even though they were trying to disguise it. “I’ll take you.”

“Can you call Chloe for me?” Beca asked. She was still feeling dizzy, and stumbled after taking a few steps.

“Sure,” they said before scooping her up, carrying her bridal style.

“Are you going to call her now?”

They laughed. “Not yet. My hands are full.”

She knew that laugh.

“Chloe,” she mumbled, almost drunkenly. “Chloe’s my favourite. I think… I love her.”

“Okay,” they said, their voice faltering slightly. “You need that head injury looking at. Hold on.”

Beca didn’t have time to ask what for before they were speeding in the direction of the hospital.

Beca was placed unsteadily on her feet at the entrance and she managed to make it two steps inside before her legs buckled.

“Shit,” they said, lifting Beca to her feet again. The people in the hospital turned to face them. “Someone take care of her!” They shouted before the shot out of the door again.

Beca winced as the final stitch was pulled through the cut in her head.

“Ow,” she mumbled.

“Don’t worry,” the doctor said. “It’s all done. Now, have you got someone who can take you home? You really shouldn’t be by yourself tonight.”

“I’ll take her,” a voice said. Beca turned her head and saw Chloe standing at the gap in the curtain which had been pulled around her cubicle.

“Chloe!” Beca said, finally smiling. “Dude, you won’t believe the night I’ve had.”

“Come on,” Chloe said, holding out her hand. “Let’s get you home.”

“Chloe,” Beca said, after they’d been walking quietly for a while. “Why didn’t you ask me what had happened?”

“I, uh, I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”

“Chloe,” Beca said again. “You don’t have to pretend with me you know. I know who you are.”

Chloe swallowed. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

Beca brought them to a stop. She reached up and took off Chloe’s glasses.

“I don’t know how you thought you could fool me with these,” Beca said, placing them on her own face. “They’re just glass. They’ve just been glass for about a month now. Ever since the Barden Bella first turned up.” She handed Chloe her glasses back. “And your eyes. Chloe… I’d be able to pick your eyes out of a line-up. They’re the most beautiful… most perfect eyes I’ve ever seen. When I see them, I feel safe. And not because they’re the eyes of a superhero, but because they’re yours.”

“How long have you known?” Chloe asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Since the first time I saw those pictures online,” Beca said.

“Did you mean what you said to her-” she stopped herself. “To me?”

“Yes,” Beca replied. “I love you. Always have. Always will.”

“I love you too,” Chloe replied, leaning forward and kissing her.

“So,” Beca said, smiling as they broke apart. “Now that it’s all out in the open, how about you speed us back home?”

“Actually, the speed is all part of the suit,” Chloe said, laughing.

“Oh. You’re gonna have to explain this all to me,” Beca said, linking their hands again as they carried on walking.

Chloe smiled. She gently squeezed her hand, fully aware that if she didn’t watch herself, she could easily break Beca’s fingers if she wasn’t careful.

“Well it all started when I was sixteen.”

Stitch up My Heart

Pairing - Parrish x Reader, Derek x Reader

Word Count- 1758

Request - Can u do an imagine with Where y/n and Derek had been best friends since they were little and when he leaves beacon hills she’s devestated and ends up dating Parrish and u can decide what to do from there. Thanks.

Originally posted by did-you-say-george-harrison

You and Derek were the best of best friends, you met back in the playground when neither of you were older than four. You had been pushed off the swing and into the concrete, you were close to tears when Derek came over and defended you and flashed his eyes at the mean kids, the two of you had been completely inseparable since then and you had loved him from the third grade.

Of course he was unaware of this, you always too scared to tell him, scared of his reaction, scared of rejection.

You had finally managed to work up the courage to do so before he and the pack headed to Mexico to save Scott and Kira, a trip you weren’t aloud to attend ‘for your own safety’ they had said.

Derek never came home. He went off to god knows where with Braeden, after you had finally told him how you felt.

You cried for days, he had left you so easily, had your friendship not meant anything to him? Because it sure as hell meant a whole lot to you.

“What wrong with me” you whispered to yourself as you sat on your couch, your tears were all cried out from the past few days, you had just sat, staring at the walls emotionlessly.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud and fast knock on your apartment door, again and again. “I’m coming, I’m coming” you yelled, tugging your blanket around you and shuffling to the door.

“Parrish got himself into a little trouble” Scott groaned, the weight of the rather beat up looking deputy proving a little to heavy for him to carry on his own, despite Stiles 'helping’.

Your apartment had become a usual place for them to come when someone needed fixed up, you worked mostly in the hospital but often helped Deaton in the animal clinic.

They had gotten used to going there with Derek and you fixing them up until they healed so it was natural instinct for them to head there when they needed you.

“Come in, come in” you ushered, taking Parrish’s arm from Stiles and wrapping it around your shoulder, helping Scott get him to the kitchen, “Stiles, clear the table and get me the First aid kit” you ordered. Stiles did as told, you and Scott laid Parrish on the table.

“Okay boys, he’ll heal but I’ll stitch him up, it’ll speed up the process, I think I have so leftover pizza, take that and eat it in the living room, I need to concentrate” you told them, they complied and took the pizza away.

“Tangled with The beast, huh” you mumbled, grabbing a sterilised needle from the box. “Hey, Jordan, can you hear me” you cooed , softly tapping his cheek. He groaned “uh huh”, you sighed softly in response, beginning to clean up his wounds.

“This might hurt” you whispered, more to yourself than to him as you cleaned his cuts, once you finished that, you wrapped them in gauze and put a gauze pad over a wound on his stomach.

With the help of the boys, you managed to move him into your bed, after you insisted Parrish would have your bed so he could heal and you would crash on the couch.

Half way through your uncomfortable sleep, you felt yourself be lifted from the bed and into a pair of arms. “Jordan” you mumbled, confusion laced in your voice. “You should be resting and healing” you insisted groggily, to which he answered with a smile. “I’m all healed and in your own home you should have not have to sleep on the sofa” he replied softly as he opened the bedroom door, placing you gently into it.

“But what if I like the couch” you mumbled into the pillows he just lay you on as you turned around, watching him pull on his tattered t-shirt. “Hey no! You need to heal properly, I can see you wincing and if I were to take off that pad then I would see the same cut” you scolded, you voice slightly muffled by the bed he had dropped you onto. “I will not take your bed in your own house Y/n, no way” he  said, shaking his head.

“Fine, we can share”


And that was the start of something beautiful.


Something so beautiful you didn’t even know you could have it. Something so amazing that you felt you didn’t even deserve it. After having your heart so broken by Derek, you didn’t really know how your love life was going to pan out, but when you and Parrish spent the night together, talking over the movies and falling asleep in his arms.

“Jordan” you squeaked as he spun you around, kissing your lips softly when he put you down. “I brought you dinner” you said with a large smile on your face, holding up the bag with the takeaway food in it. “Smell’s amazing babe, come on, let’s eat together” he smiled, grabbing your hand and going through to him office.

“So when I was babysitting for a family friend today, her little boy said he’s in love with me and that he wants to marry me, their other kid, sister is planning the wedding already, how do you feel about that” you joked, putting your paper plate and plastic fork in the little bin in Jordan’s office, taking his too. “Well, I’m not surprised, but he can’t do this” he smirked, leaning forward and catching your lips in yet another sensational kiss, just like every other kiss. His soft lips moving perfectly in sync with yours, his hand reaching over to cup your cheek.

“Now eat your cupcake Jordan, we baked them today and I promised them I’d give one to my officer boyfriend” you giggled, tucking into your own cupcake.

“You have icing on your cheek” Jordan chuckled, his eyes crinkling as they always do when he laughs. You began trying to wipe it, failing to find the pink buttercream that your boyfriend has pointing out. “Here, I’ll get it” he said softly, wiping over you cheeks with his thumb, then sucking the icing off his thumb. You giggled and he jumped to his own defence. “It’s good icing” he shrugged, admiration shining in his bright green eyes as he looked lovingly at you, you didn’t often get to do this, your busy shifts at the hospital mixed with Jordan’s crazy shifts here at the station didn’t give you too much time together, though it did make you appreciate the time you did spend together.

He leaned over once again, just about to join his lips to your when someone opened his door.

You both jumped apart, not because your relationship was secret or anything like that, but because it had been unexpected. Thursday night’s were never busy.

“We have a visitor, he wants to see Y/n” Deputy Clark said,  an awkward smile on her face. “I’ll be right out, Sorry Clark” you said, your cheeks burning red as you followed her out. “Call if you need me” Parrish called after you, rolling over to his desk on his chair, a cheeky smile on his lips as he got back to paperwork.

“He's a good one” Clark laughed, your cheeks flushing even more. “Yeah, I’m a lucky girl” you said, closing the door reading ’ JORDAN PARRISH’, hearing him shout, “NOT AS LUCKY AS ME”

“Who’s my visitor” you asked, no one had ever come to the station and request you, considering you didn’t work there. “A guy, he didn’t tell me his name, just said he was looking for you” she shrugged, opening the door that led out to the front desk.

He was facing away but you knew full well who it was.

You had spent almost a year getting over him and now he had just waltzed back.

He turned around and had the audacity to smile at you. Now, if he had done this before you had met Jordan, you would’ve ran to him and forgiven him.

But he was here now standing infront of you, his smile faltering as you glared at him, you loved Jordan more than you had ever loved Derek. Jordan loved you back ,Derek left you all alone.

 "Y/n, I’m so happy to see you" he beamed. “The feelings not mutual” you grumbled, trying to keep your tears at bay. “Wha…Why” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at you in confusion, having thought you would’ve been happy to see him.

“You left me Derek, you didn’t even bother to text, I loved you!” you raised your voice, tears dripping down your cheeks. “Loved?” Derek pressed, trying to get you to expand on the reason you used past tense. “Yeah Derek. Loved, not love. I’ve moved on. Moved on to someone who would never leave me, who lets me know just how loved I am"  you said, standing tall and strong.

Derek was too stunned to go any further, so he turned on his heal and protected his pride by walking off.

It really did kill him to see you laugh at Parrish’s lame jokes, watching Jordan kiss the ice cream off your nose and tuck your hair behind your ear, being all lovey like couples are.

"I didn’t know how else to do this but I knew I had to do it now.” Jordan said one day, holding your hands in his larger ones. “I, in now way, am trying to say that you do but I just wanted to know, if you have any feelings at all left for Derek, because if you do, I don’t want to hold you back, I love you and all I want is for you to be happy.” he asked you softly, running his thumbs over the top of your hands.

“No feelings J, none at all, they left the moment we kissed, I love you more than anything in the world” you told him, kissing his lips in a sensational kiss, as most of your kisses were. “Phew! I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you” he admitted, pulling you into his arms for a tight hug. “Neither!” you exclaimed. “Plus, who’d protect me from weird parascientists and massive beasts on a killing spree” you added, watching him playfully roll his eyes at you. “God I love you”  

Derek left your heart broken and that night, after you stitched up Jordan Parrish’s wounds, he began to stitch up your heart.

Hitched 11/11 (Epilogue)

a Captain Swan AU fan fiction

Summary:  After a series of events leave her life in pieces, Emma Swan finds herself hitchhiking out of Maine, her wallet empty and her heart broken. The best she hopes for is a driver who isn’t a pervert and takes her far away from the painful memories of Storeybrooke. But when she finds a ride with a quiet truck driver named Jones, Emma discovers that maybe a trustworthy friend is all she needs.

Rating: M or MA; some profanity and sex scenes.

Cover art: created by the absolutely fabulous @thesschesthair!!

Links: ff.net // ao3 // ch. 1 //  ch. 2 // ch. 3 // ch. 4 // ch. 5 // ch. 6 // ch. 7 // ch. 8 // ch. 9 // ch. 10

Final Word Count: Somewhere between 44,500 and 46,250 (I got three wildly different counts from MS Word, FF.net, and AO3 lmao)

(also @teamhook, @like-waves-on-the-beach, @lenfaz, @followbatb, @stardusted-nymph, @optomisticgirl, @xpumpkindumplingx​ , @strawberrycupcakeprincess, and @spartanguard, thank you thank you thank you for reading and requesting tags!)

At last, the final chapter!  I’m blown away by the amount of feedback the story has received - thanks so much to everyone who has taken the time to read. Smooches!

previous


EPILOGUE

Emma squinted, angling the paintbrush clockwise a little, and took one last swipe against the tape. There! Letting out the breath she’d been holding and sitting back on her heels, she looked with admiration on her work. After three weeks of scraping paint on evenings and weekends, then another two of standing on ladders with a pole or a paintbrush, the front porch was finally done, even the wooden bits that sat right against the siding.

“Moooooom! I need help!” came the insistent call from inside the house, making her start. But then she laughed, shaking her head as she recognized that tone of voice.

Keep reading

Secret is Out: Part 1

Prompt: What happens when secret identities are taken away from every DC superhero?

AN: I really couldn’t get this idea out of my head. So, now I’m starting a new series. I think it’s going to turn out well, because it’s going to deal with a lot of the DC heroes. Thanks to my wonderful betas for plowing through my stories!

Words: 613


Your heart is racing, your lungs are pumping air, but you can’t stop to breathe. You’ve already ditched your heels in favor of your stocking feet. Running in heels simply isn’t practical, especially when it comes to the stairs.

You don’t pause to say anything to his secretary like you normally do, you simply burst through the doors, and lock it behind you. Bruce looks up at you with a raised eyebrow, “Something wrong?”

“News,” You gasp for breath before repeating yourself, “Turn on the news, channel 10.” One more breath and then, “Quick.”

You watch as the T.V. turns on, and then you watch as his facial expression turns to one of disbelief, “This can’t be happening.”

You move towards him, and take his hand. He squeezes once to let you know that he’s okay, well as okay as one can be in this circumstance. There’s a moment of silence before he takes a deep breath and says, “We need to get home. Now. Before they get to us.”  

You nod, as he leads you out the door. The two of you run down the hallway, all the way down to the parking garage. Bruce pulls out into traffic before your seatbelt is even buckled. “Get on the phone, and call all the boys home. Tell them to do whatever they have to, to get home.”

You nod, and pull out your phone to begin making the calls. You listen as Bruce flips the radio on, and your heart sinks as another name is read out. Then right as you pull through the gates to the manor the name you had been hoping wouldn’t be called is. “Batman, is billionaire Bruce Wayne.”

Bruce doesn’t even blink as the gates close and he arms the security. He pulls into the garage. The two of you are out of the car and inside within the next minute, where you’re met by Alfred. “Emergency protocols have been activated, all of the boys have checked in, including Master Damian, who has officially ditched class, and is being picked up by Master Tim.”

Bruce nods, “Turn on the radio please Alfred.”

The butler simply nods, and your heart stops at the next name. “Nightwing, is Richard  Grayson, adopted son of Bruce and Y/N Wayne.”

You hand goes to your mouth, “Bruce.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, “They’re okay, they’ve checked in. They’ll be here soon.”

“They’re not the only ones.” You jump a bit at the new voice, but relax at the sight of Clark. “Figured this was the best place to come. The other leaguers are also on the way. I suppose we need to decide what to do next.”

“We wait for everyone to get here first.” You watch as your husband ticks the boys off of a list, “Dick left mid-shift at the police station, Tim left school, and is picking up Damian. Even Jason is coming in.” Then he turns to Clark, “Go back down to the cave, keep a list, make sure everyone is accounted for.”

Clark nods, before removing his glasses, “I suppose I don’t need those anymore, do I?”

Bruce just shakes his head, “No, I suppose not. No more secret identities.”

Clark just nods before walking away. You turn to your husband, “How did they get everyone’s identity?” Bruce just sighs before sinking down to the floor. You slide down next to him, “I don’t know.”

You take a deep breath, “This changes absolutely everything.”

Bruce just wraps an arm around you and pulls you in, “Yes it does.”

          You snuggle into his side, “Everything will be okay, somehow.”

Bruce just kisses your forehead, “I really hope so.”

Seasons Change (And So Do We)

They started their relationship in the fall. It was an unseasonably warm night that mirrored the warm blushes creeping up on their faces after their first kiss.

“I’ve wanted to do that since freshman year,” Beca quietly admit with her hands still cupping the redhead’s face.

Chloe smiled and bit her lip, nodding at the excellence that was the situation. “Yeah.”

Leaves were falling from the trees surrounding them in the forest, a full moon shone directly on them, loud music and people buzzing around the initiation party hundreds of feet away. None of it really mattered or was heard. It was just them, them, and only them.


“I brought movies,” Beca turned up after a late shift at the radio station one night.

Since Chloe was the only Bella in the house who didn’t have a roommate, it was particularly easy for the girls to sneak around late at night.

“You hate movies,” Chloe blankly stated, stepping aside regardlessly and allowing the brunette into her room before swiftly shutting the door.

“But you don’t,” Beca smiled, lightly kissing the redhead and pushing her down onto the bed.

Chloe smiled back and allowed the brunette to straddle her lap, helping her with the removal of her jacket. Beca then snaked her arms around the redhead’s neck and brought her in for a kiss which quickly turned heated.

“Bec,” Chloe gasped when the brunette’s hands started exploring under the redhead’s loose fitting v-neck tee.

“Thought about you all day long,” Beca said against Chloe’s neck, smirking sweetly when she felt the redhead’s nimble fingers work her flannel buttons.

The two continued to roll around the redhead’s bed the rest of the night, lazily kissing and tangling legs, laughing against skin and feeling every inch to be felt. They bundled up for the rest of the fall.

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Pulls and Tugs {Chekov x Reader} {Soulmate AU}

Prompt: Soulmate AU
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: ~1000
A/N: So here is an embarrassingly short fic I made as a break to a long one I’m currently writing.

Everyone is born with it. The red string attached to their wrists. The one only they can see. The one that connects them to their soulmate. You always have the feeling. The feeling that you need to follow it. And find them. You can fight it if need be, but if you’re scared or in distress you will start following it. Always. The closer you get the more the string pulls. And if you’re extremely close the string will stop letting you walk away. The string stops growing for your convenience. (Well unless you had a strong mind and were able to defeat its pull) It only shrinks until you follow it and find your soulmate.

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Love and Maple Syrup

Just a little bitty pancake fic. My apologies, it’s been raining for almost two weeks where I live. Rain. Rain. Rain. Not smutty, but sweet. Rated M-ish.

Inspired by the song of the same name. Thank you, Gordon Lightfoot. 

Tagging @ohmakemeahercules @ouat-upon-a-coconut @bleebug @laschatzi @emmaswanchoosesyou and @ooshka-babooshka 


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So, I’m using my vaporizer on-shift at the gas station (my workplace allows it) and while I’m serving customers, a customer at the pump right in front of me whips out his phone and starts saying, “hey, the guy working here is smoking weed! Right in front of everyone! I know, right?” And keeps going on about it VERY loudly, having a lovely conversation with his friend at my expense. I’m too busy serving customers to go out and ask what his fucking problem is. He leaves, and the customers are looking at me like I’m nuts. It’s a vaporizer, dipshit. I put tobacco in it. It’s healthier than cigarettes. You’re the one having a mental breakdown in the middle of a gas station. And by the way he was giggling like a schoolgirl and knew dry herb vaporizers could be used for weed, he was probably stoned as fuck. Hopefully he enjoyed making an ass of himself and hopefully I don’t get fired because of him.

This is war

pairing:  More of a mutual hate? Ivar slightly turned on by your antic’s, I guess Ivar x Reader

fandom: Vikings. Modern University student, disgruntled flatmate AU

warnings: Coarse language, hinted masturbation, extremely antisocial behaviour, dead animals

Prompt from: @whenimaunicorn Friday Night Ritual (It’s Friday night where I live) this is just for fun  I thought of this when I saw the photo above and thought why not?



This was it, you told yourself. You’d had it. This had to stop. This was the seventh time this week alone. You didn’t mind music, hell, you even loved the song that was playing right now, but you could not sleep with ‘Hit the Road Jack’ blasting out of your flatmate’s room at 1:00 am. You didn’t know him very well. You shared a kitchen, living room and bathroom, the rest of your time you spent in your room studying or out working shifts at the Petrol station. The landlord Floki had said that he was a family friend, also he advised that if you kept out of Ivar’s way, you’d be fine, whatever the hell that meant. 

The conditions of your stay were fine by you, the flat was relatively nice, in your price range and close to the train station. You had no problem’s with your flatmate. You hardly even saw him. Sometimes he would be in the kitchen when you went to get something or he’d be watching TV. You smiled and said hello, but he would just glare back say the occasional hi or hey. And that was the way things were until, the second week in when you accidentally ate his favourite cereal. To you it wasn’t a big deal, you’d honestly made a mistake and grabbed the wrong box when you went for a midnight snack. You brought him a new box and put a post-it note on it saying that you were sorry. And that’s how it all started.


You’d gone to get ready for a lecture the next day. You had a shower and went to dry your hair with the hair dryer. You turned it on only to get a face full of baby powder. You sputtered and shrieked, but after you laughed. Yeah, okay, you had to admit that was pretty funny.

“Okay Ivar, I supposed I deserved that, good one!” You sung out to him across the house, but you got no reply. You sighed, would it really kill him to say something other than; hey, hi, good, hmm, yes, no and bye? You cleaned off again and left for your lecture. That night you came home from your shift and you couldn’t wait to finally get some shut eye. You opened the door to your room and flopped onto your bed, only to jump back up and scream in pain as what felt like a dozen needles dug into your flesh. Heaving, you threw back the covers to find forks strategically taped exactly where you had flopped on the bed. Okay, this was not funny. How the hell did he even get into your room? You had locked it with a key.

You marched to his room and pounded on the door. He opened it with a smug expression on his annoyingly handsome face.

“Ivar, I am sorry about your cereal, but forks, really?”  

“Oh it’s not just about the cereal,” he snarled, his face contorted into a wicked grin.

“Okay?” You took a step back, “What is this about then?” He actually looked quite scary.

“I was quite happy here by myself until you showed up, leaving the teaspoons wherever the hell you like, kicking ice cubes and crumbs under the fridge, putting the water bottle’s back half empty and your hair…”

“What about my hair?” You asked defensively.

“You shed like a dog, it’s fucking everywhere!” You felt as if you’d been slapped, did he just compare you to a dog?

“What is your problem!?” You yelled at him.

“You!” He growled back, but then he smirked, “But you won’t be for much longer, I will get rid of you, just like the last one,” he sneered and he slammed the door. Leaving you confused and slightly scared. What did he mean like the last one? Was he a serial killer?


The days past and his meaning became clear; he wanted you to move out. However, you were determined to stay a thorn in his side. You endured; food dye in your toothpaste, your clothes changing colour in the wash, him buying a universal remote and randomly changing the channels while you were watching TV, an ice bucket challenge in the middle of the night, even, finding a dead mouse in your shoe and a frog in the coffee pot but, you drew the line at continuous sleep deprivation. You marched to his room again and pounded on the door.

“Okay asshole I am willing to negotiate with you!” You screamed over the music. It suddenly stopped and the door swung open, he greeted you with a triumphant smirk plastered across his face.

“So,” he drawled, “When will you be leaving?” You clenched your fist.

“I will not be leaving!” You fumed. He snarled and turned back to the stereo, you grabbed his wrist before he could flip it back on, “I know you can’t sleep either while that’s blasting.”

“I won’t stop until you are gone and I get my flat back, this is war,” he snatched his hand back.

“You are insanely petty, you know that? The flat was never yours, it belongs to Floki! Stop acting like a child! I’m staying here, whether you like it or not and you’re going to have to either, deal with it or move out because I sure as hell can’t afford anywhere else!” You screamed at him. He stiffened and looked at you curiously.

“I can’t believe you, of all people, hold the record,” he commented looking you up and down

“What record?”

“The record for longest stay; four weeks two days, before that it was only two weeks.You are the most stubborn person I have ever met.”

“Now that’s the pot calling the kettle black,” you spat before turning around and storming out of his room. The music started up again. You turned back around to see him flipping you the bird in the hallway. “Really? Grow up Ivar,” you commented before you grabbed your bag and headed out the front door.

“Where are you going? Are you finally leaving?”  

For once you smirked back at him, “If you want a war, you’re going to get one. I’m bringing down the thunder Ivar, surrender or batten down the hatches.”


You went to the 24hrs corner store. Not only were you going to need, weapons, tools and ammunition you were going to need protection and provisions. You had three brothers, you were a prank war veteran, but this was no laughing matter, your residence was at stake. When you finally got to the checkout the clerk looked at your items and then to you.

“Don’t ask,” you warned and slapped your card on the desk, the clerk only nodded and scanned the items.

“Are you okay hun?” She asked slightly concerned.

“I haven’t slept in two days and there’s a frog in my coffee pot. No, I am not okay.”

“Boyfriend trouble?” She asked handing you your groceries.

“I wish it was that simple,” you murmured and headed back to your flat.


The first thing you did was lock your door, then you barricaded it. You had no lectures or shifts tomorrow, but you knew for a fact that Ivar did, you had taken a photo of his timetable he left on the kitchen bench. Revenge would come, but not now, you thought to yourself as Annie Lennox’s voice drifted through the flat singing ‘Sweet Dreams’. Sweet dreams indeed you smiled as you pulled out your industrial-grade earplugs and slipped them into your ears.  


The next day you didn’t waste your time. You avoided the trip wire in the hallway and made a beeline for his room. You experimentally turned the door knob. Locked. You took out your key, now was the moment of truth, was Floki a real cheapskate? Had he installed the same locks? You slid the key in and it miraculously fitted and turned. So that’s how Ivar was sneaking into your room. You smiled and stood back, not stupid enough to stand in front of the opening door in case he booby trapped it. But after nothing happened it appeared that he thought you were either stupid or had no lock picking skills. You hauled your supplies into his room and got to work. When you were done in his room you pulled out your phone. You opened the phonebook and found the number you were looking for and dialled it. You couldn’t wait for Ivar to get back home.


He came home at five o’clock. He opened the door and slipped on the oil you had placed there moments before.

“Welcome home, flatmate,” you smiled as you sat on the couch sipping your tea.

“Amateur,” he grunted picking himself off the ground.

“I tried my best.” You shrugged feigning defeat.  You wish you could follow him and watch the chaos unfold with your own eyes, but you lurking down the hallway would make him suspicious. You didn’t worry though, you had hidden a camera in his room. You wondered what would get him first, the chair or the bed. A loud hoot of a fog horn and a scream of shock answered your question. The chair.

“You’ve been in my room?!” He raged.

“Oh yeah I hope you didn’t mind, I had a bit of a clean up in there. See, you had so many clothes and I thought that there were so many people in need, so I donated them.” You smiled sweetly. “Oh,” you added, “And I found your porn stash you pervert, that’s gone too.”

You heard him start stomping down the hallway cursing. Time to go. You ran to your room and shut the door and locked it before he reached it.

“You coward! Come back out here!” He slapped your door angrily. You didn’t actually donate his clothes, they were safely wrapped up in plastic bags under your bed, but the porn stash? Well, it rested in pieces.

“You thought I was a problem before? How do you like me now mother fucker!” You taunted. You heard him rustle the keys, and scratch at the lock. You smiled, ah revenge was sweet.

“What the fuck?” he cursed.

“Also, I figured out how you’ve been getting in here, I had a locksmith come today. Give it up Ivar.”

“Okay, well played, well played. I didn’t know you had it in you, but you’ll have to come out sooner or later,” he hissed.

“Nope, I’m set for a few days. I have a cooler, a bucket, food and water in here. Do you yield?”

“Never! When you come out I will make you regret this, I’ll have Floki evict you,” he snarled.

“What? Can’t you get rid of me yourself? What is it now? Hmm… four weeks and three days?”

You heard him storm off grumbling something under his breath.


You smiled as you heard the smoke alarm go off accompanied by a string of curses. That would be him microwaving the aluminium foil you taped to the underside of his favourite plate.

“Do you yield?” You yelled out.

“Go to hell!” You got in response. You smiled, you were enjoying this too much.

“I have your clothes,  if you give up and allow me to live in peace and admit that I am worthy of staying here, I’ll give them back to you,” you cooed. You heard him storm back to his room, moments later you heard a disgusted yell. That would be the live crickets you put in his bed. Half an hour later you heard laughter. Mad, broken laughter. You assumed that would be because of the Nicolas Cage face you had pasted to the inside of his cupboard or the swapped CDs in the wrong cases. You frowned as you heard footsteps approach your door. What was he doing now?


“Okay asshole I am willing to negotiate with you,” he spoke finally.

“There will be no negotiation, you yield, we live in peace and you admit that I am worthy of staying here and I will give your clothes back.”

“Oh but you are forgetting something,” he almost sung. You creased you brow.

“And what’s that?”

“I can change the Wifi password.”

“No!” You shrieked. That evil bastard!

“Are you ready to negotiate?”

You couldn’t risk it. You opened the door. Ivar strode in and sat at your desk.

“Now what?” You shrugged, “I’m not leaving.”

“Neither am I,” he stated.

“Well it seems we agree on one thing, we both want to live here. So can we live in peace?”

“I think we can, If you give me my clothes back and never cross me again.”

“I will, if you don’t cross me again and you swear never to change the Wifi password. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” he nodded and you shook his hand. He seemed to hold some kind of newfound respect in his eyes. Smiling you bent down and reached under the bed to retrieve his clothes. You turned back around and caught him quickly averting his eyes. Wait? Was he just staring at your ass? You looked back to him and frowned, don’t be stupid, you told yourself. You infuriate him. He would not be one bit interested in you.

“You are a worthy opponent, and you by far, are my favourite flatmate,” he grinned darkly.

“Well you’re not my favourite flatmate, but you keep me on my toes,” you smiled and shoved his bags of clothes in his arms and herded him out the door. He got to his room before he turned to you again.

“By the way, I was bluffing, only Floki can change the Wifi password. I just needed a way to get you to listen to me,” he smirked, “You still need to prove you’re worth keeping around.”

Damn it, you fumed. He had no real leverage, he tricked you into a truce!

“Oh go fuck yourself!” You hurled the first insult that came to your mind.

“Perhaps I will,” he turned back to you, you gawked like a fish out of water. “But trust me,” he continued, “After this, I won’t be imagining that my hands are my own, my favourite flatmate,” he smirked suggestively and shut the door behind him locking it, leaving you a flustered mess. You buried your face in your pillow and groaned. You bolted up in shock when you realised you had left the camera in his room, rolling. Fuck.

5

I’m running away from Manchester for a bit so here’re some stuff from the make-shift work station on my friend’s living room.
1. Mrs Starling looking lovingly at her dear un-hatched children. They’re due to see the world in a few days. Unfortunately, their father, Mr Starling, won’t be able to see them as he was called away on urgent business.
2. Costume studies for my current university project, one that I’m much eager to embark on drawing.

reginasevilpanda  asked:

Oh my gosh if you have some time I need OQ + sending nudes to the wrong number, pretty please <3

It’s a relatively new concept to her, not only for the fact that her cell phone has been one of the flip variety for the last three decades but the whole selfie sending saga in the first place. Everyone knew what she looked like, why would they want picture proof?

Henry had insisted though. Her trusty old phone had finally given up the ghost and, despite her reluctance, she’d chosen to upgrade to an iPhone. ‘It does so much more than your old phone, Mom. Trust me.’ and, of course, she did. So the next day she’d bought one. The very same model that she’d gotten Henry for his seventeenth birthday the year before. It hadn’t been hard to get used to, after an hour or so spent fiddling about with it, and she’d found herself rather happy with her new choice and her hand picked selection of applications.

One of which was Snapchat.

At first, Henry was her only contact and she loved it. Loved looking in on his day to day activities; time with his friends, afternoons spent terrorising the Charmings with his other mother, sweet little moments with Violet. It was like her own little peek into his world.

Over time though, and with Henry’s influence on the town, others had downloaded the app and so her contact list had grown to include Snow - with endless videos of Neal running riot about the town - Charming - sickening picture after picture of his one true love when she was unawares - Emma - mainly snaps warning any that followed her of the various hazards around town and some of Henry - and Robin.

He was the more recent of them all.

Her own ‘story’ consisted of various dishes she’d experimented with, drawings that her dimpled seven year-old sweetheart had brought home from school - he was endlessly talented with a pot of paints, they’d found - and pictures of all three of her boys together whenever she had them all in one room.

It was nice.

Also, it afforded herself and Robin the chance to get a little more creative when it came to their affections. Namely when the good and reformed Outlaw found himself on the night shift at the station.

Most times she’d send him a little warning, a preliminary snap to ensure he was alone before she’d begin the show for him.

It was never anything particularly special - a bare shoulder, a video of her thighs slowly rubbing together as she let loose breathy moans, an awkwardly angled (but highly paying off) shot of her bare bottom that always sent him wild - but his reaction was always worth the effort. Particularly on the nights she didn’t have to be up for work the next morning. He’d wake her on his return with a tongue between her legs or after a series of touches that would have her wet before her eyes were even open.

She’d known from the beginning that theirs was a relationship made to last the ages but to actually experience it was something that always managed to take her breath away.

The thought of her husband, so hardworking and lovely, was what had her in quite the playful mood tonight. He’d had to work a few more night shifts this week and so, she was missing him.

She padded across the floor of the bedroom to stand before her full length mirror, grinning as she positioned herself. She didn’t want the build up tonight and the thought of completely surprising him was too good to resist so, with a little preparation, she brought her phone up and pressed a finger to the middle button, recording as she moved her elbows out a little and allowed her silk nightgown to slip from her body.

She watched it through a couple of times, just to ensure it did the job, before she pulled up her contacts and found Robin’s name with the little gold heart beside it - of course he was her ‘best friend’ on the app.

It didn’t take long, just the short walk back to the bed, before she received a notification telling her that he’d replayed the snap - she chuckled softly at the thought of his expression - and only one minute after that came the “Robin is typing…” banner, followed by the little blue chat button that had anticipation skittering across her bare skin.

“Oh, my love…” read his message and it was only three words but they were three words that had her grinning like a fool at her phone.

Instead of replying, however, she positioned herself back upon the bed with arms straight out before her and her camera switched to the front so that she could adjust herself. Taking a moment, she brought a hand down to thrum gently across each nipple, returning it when both stiffened into dusky peaks.

She angled her phone, taking the picture on a diagonal and swiping to add the desired filter before moving to her contact list once more. It was as she’d highlighted Robin’s name that she heard a sharp cry from down the hallway - Scarlett.

She sighed gently, glancing down to send the snap - she couldn’t leave him hanging in anticipation - before leaving her phone on her bed and moving to pull on her robe.

——–

Emma was quite ready to pack up and call it a night. She was on call anyway, if there was any real emergency she’d hear about it. The sight of Robin looking so desperately at his phone in the other office - no doubt texting Regina - not strengthened her resolve. It was home time.

First though, the phone had to be diverted to her cell.

Picking up her own phone - she really needed to learn her number one day - she was surprised to find a notification of a received snapchat from Regina. The very fact that Regina was even on snapchat still amused her.

Still, it wasn’t a complete rarity for her to receive a funny picture of Henry or a sweet snap of Roland and Scarlett and so, rather innocently, she opened the app and clicked to open the received picture only to throw her phone across the room, wincing at the worrisome crack as it hit the ground. Robin was frowning confusedly at her through the window separating them but she could do nothing other than try and erase the image from her mind.

Robin’s focus on his phone made sense now. How many times had they been on the night shift together and this had been happening?

It didn’t bear thinking about.

——–

She was roused by gentle kisses along the line of her jaw and neck, her husband’s palm warm as it stroked along her upper arm. God, she loved him.

“Welcome home,” she whispered sleepily to him, tilting her head back on the pillow to allow him more access to her skin and emitting a warm hum at the feeling of him behind her. “Good shift?”

“Most definitely,” he replied pointedly before he continued, “although, Emma was acting a little strangely before we left. She threw her phone across the room.”

“Why would she do something like that?” Regina frowned.

“I don’t know,” Robin chuckled softly, “but she warned me that you’d be getting the bill for the repairs.”

That had her a little more alert as she turned her head and asked, “Why the hell would it be my-” she gasped, hoping to god that she was wrong as she lifted herself from Robin’s hold and reached for her phone left forgotten on her bedside table after her last exchange with Robin.

She was quick to unlock it, ignoring her husband’s questions and opening the snapchat app, her heart pounding fiercely as she looked through her most recent exchanges and, sure enough, there was Emma’s name just under Robin’s, the little triangle just an outline of colour.

“Oh, fuck.”

3

On April 26, 2013, Jessica Heeringa (25, first picture) was working a late shift in a gas station in North Shores, Michigan. Her last known transaction in the cash register was at 10:51 pm. Then, when a customer showed up at 11:07 pm, Jessica had vanished. Behind she left her purse, coat, keys and car. Police found drops of blood later matched to Jessica outside the station and accesory parts to a gun nearby. No money was taken from the register and Jessica’s wallet had over $400 in it, so robbery was clearly not a motive here.

A witness reported seeing a heavy built man flirting with Jessica shortly before she went missing. He was driving a silver minivan. Another witness recalled seeing the man with the minivan at the station around 11 pm, acting suspiciously. But for a long time, these clues didn’t lead anywhere.

Then, on April 2016, police found their suspect in a man called Jeffrey Thomas Willis. He had tried to kidnap a 16 year old girl by locking her in his van, but she managed to escape and alerted authorities. When investigating him, detectives realized Willis had been quite busy. They found evidence linking him to the murder of Rebekah Sue Bletsch (36, second picture), a jogger who had been found shot to death on June 29, 2014. In his van they also found syringes, one with a sedative and bondage tools. In his computer he had disturbing pornography, including videos of necrophilia and child porn. He had a folder named “Vics” (for victims, presumably), in which he had pictures of women, including Rebekah and Jessica. He’s also been investigated for the 1996 unsolved murder of Angela Thornburg (15), who after been missing for a month was found half dressed and dead in the woods in Fruitport Township. 

Willis’ van and physical features matched the person the witnesses had seen at the gas station when Jessica went missing, and his credit card records showed he’d been at the place at least 15 times in the time leading to the abduction. Also, on the day of her disappearance, Willis hadn’t shown up for work. Then came the statement of his cousin, Kevin Bluhm, who said Willis had contacted him the day after Jessica’s disappearance and that he had seen her naked, beaten body before helping him bury it. He later said he’d made it all up and was charged with lying to the police and being an accesory to the kidnapping and murder of Jessica.

Jessica’s body has not been found and although Willis was charged with her abduction and murder in September 2016, it’s still uncertain when a trial will start. He first has to face the court in June 2017 for the murder of Rebekah.

In charge

Inspired by @mysticmessengershenanigans original post!

You dropped by the C&R office one afternoon, hoping to surprise Jumin at work. You were feeling restless after spending the entire day at the apartment, answering emails regarding the upcoming party. Also, it had been two days since you and Jumin had gotten intimate, and you were feeling… you know, frisky.

You made your way up to the meeting rooms where Jumin was in. He didn’t notice you but seeing him at work always turned you on. There was something about a man engrossed in work that was just too irresistible.

The moment his meeting ended, you went into the room, sliding your arms around his neck and whispered seductively, “Jumin, let’s go home~” One look at you and Jumin was already reaching for his phone, calling Driver Kim to pick the both of you up.

The journey home was hell. Sexual tension filled the air so thickly, you could cut through it with a knife. Also, you were almost certain that Driver Kim knew what was going on in your minds. Jumin’s hand rested on your smooth, bare thigh. If only he would slide it up higher… All you wanted to do was rip his clothes off, but you knew you couldn’t do that in public. At least not with Driver Kim right in front of you. You closed your eyes, imagining what you would do to Jumin the moment you arrived home.

The second the both of you stepped into the front door of your apartment, you pushed Jumin hard against the door and enveloped his warm, soft lips with yours. You could feel him smirking.

“This. Reminds me of. The first time. We kissed.” Jumin whispered in between your rapid kisses, his voice husky with desire.

“I want you. Now.” You commanded, nibbling his ear as you said it. No man had ever stirred such feelings within you.

The both of you stumbled your way towards the bedroom, losing your clothes along the way.

You pushed Jumin down on the bed, straddling him as you whipped out a red satin ribbon, swiftly tying his hands behind his back. You wanted to be in control today.

Jumin loved it when you took charge like that. He was usually the domineering one in every aspect of his life, so it was nice having you take control of him in bed sometimes. He was willing to do anything you want, anything at all. He was yours. His body, his soul, all belonged to you.

You were overcome with lust and desire. Your kisses grew deeper, more passionate. Your mingling breaths became shallow and rapid. You moaned Jumin’s name, encouraging him as he nibbled along the sensitive areas of your neck, leaving marks on your collarbone.

You grinded your hips against his, riding him harder. Faster. You were so close to losing control. Even without the use of his hands, Jumin was amazing. You intertwined your hands in his dark hair, throwing your head back as he buried his face in your chest, his hot breaths sending electricity down your spine.

Finally, you exploded, your body buckling as you screamed his name. Spurred by your calls, Jumin came, his vision going momentarily black as he lost control.

You buried your head in Jumin’s neck, breathing in his scent deeply as you released the satin ribbon binding his hands. He silently wrapped his arms tightly around your slender waist, the both of you blissfully submerged in the estasy of your love making.


The loud moans were audible from outside the apartment.

The guards stationed outside shifted uncomfortably in their positions. A few of them had their hands strategically placed in front of their pants, hiding what was behind it. Some were looking down at the floor, their faces flushed a bright red.

Mr. Han and MC were at it again. The guards really admired their stamina. The moans often lasted up to three hours. Sometimes it repeated a few times throughout the night. It was hard to imagine that the usually stone cold Mr. Han was able to make a girl scream so loudly. At the rate Mr Han and MC were going, the guards seriously suspected they were rabbits in disguise.

Having to listen to the sounds emitting from inside the apartment were not the worse. The worse was having to face Mr. Han and MC the next morning, greeting them with a poker face and not imagining what they were doing during the night. The struggle was real!

Whenever the Chef Security was around while Mr. Han and MC were fooling around, he often wondered about what the reporters would think. Even now, after Mr. Han and MC had already been married for a year, there were still weird articles being published about Mr. Han’s sexuality. Some even went as far as declaring that the marriage was a sham - it was just a cover for Mr. Han’s “alternate” lifestyle. If only the reporters could hear the sounds by Mr. Han and MC themselves. Jumin Han DEFINITELY does not gay.

You’re an Asshole (Kit Walker x Reader)

Request: I don’t remember exactly what the request was and I cant find the ask but I do know it was about Kit and the Reader fighting and making up.

Ship: Kit Walker x Reader

Word count: 1139

You hummed along with the radio as you wiped down the kitchen table. The stew you were cooking simmered on the stove making the whole house smell and feel warm and inviting. You moved your hips to the beat and tossed the rag over your shoulder admiring your work. You were so excited to see Kit’s reaction. He had been taking extra shifts at the station most likely dealing with assholes every hour. You wanted to do something special for him so you slaved all day cleaning the house, doing the laundry, and finally topping it all off with a nice dinner.

You heard the front door open and slam closed. You turned and smiled when you saw Kit enter. But your smile quickly faded away when you saw the scowl on his face. He let out an exasperated sigh and didn’t even look at you.

It took you a minute before you had the courage to approach him. You walked across the living room to where he stood. You placed a hand gently on his shoulder which he shrugged off harshly.

“How was your day?” you asked nervously.

He didn’t say anything he just angrily shrugged off his navy blue work shirt and threw it haphazardly on the sofa. He stomped right past you and you stared at him silent.

“I am so sick and tired of all these assholes who think the fucking world revolves around them! The next asshole who throws money on the ground instead of handing it to me, I’m cutting their fucking brakes!” he yelled running his fingers through his chocolate brown hair.

You stood shocked. You had never seen Kit this angry before. Yeah he had come home swearing and complaining but he was never this hostile. You cautiously stepped towards him, wringing your hands nervously. He continued pacing around the house, grumbling to himself with the occasional curse here and there.

“Kit, why don’t you sit and calm down for a minute?” you suggested while pulling out one of the chairs from the table.

You weren’t expecting what he was going to do next.

“Get off my fucking back woman! I have to go out and work and deal with all these fucking pricks while you just sit around all day! Just give me a goddamn moment of peace! God! I already put up with your ass enough” he yelled.

You were taken aback. Kit had never yelled at you directly like that. And it hurt, it really did. You felt underappreciated. You didn’t just sit around all day and wait for him to come home. You cleaned, you cooked, so he wouldn’t have to worry about it when he came home. You knew he had to deal with assholes all the time so you wanted to make sure he had nothing more to worry about when he came home.

You balled up your fists in irritation and stomped your foot getting his attention.

“You think all I do is sit around and wait for you?” you yelled, “I cook, I clean, I run errands, I do all the laundry! All so you don’t have to. And don’t even get me started on when your friends come over! You all just leave beer bottles and food everywhere and don’t even bother to clean up after yourselves like pigs! It’s my job! I know that you have to deal with ungrateful assholes, but I didn’t know you were one yourself, Kit Walker!”

Kit stared at you with his big brown eyes, shocked and silent. You had tears running down your face and you just stared at each other. He stood up from the chair he had planted himself in and took a step towards you. You took a step back before running out the front door and into the night. You didn’t want to see his face so you just ran.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N), COME BACK!” you heard him yell but you didn’t care you just kept running.

You didn’t know where you were going you just started walking when you were far enough away from the house. You wrapped your arms around yourself and kept forward down the dark road, still quietly sobbing to yourself. Your feet began to hurt after what you had assumed was a few miles.

A bright light shone in the distance and you continued towards it. After a few minutes you realized it was the station, the lights still on oddly, since Kit always closed up completely. You noticed it was completely disserted, so you felt a little uneasy when you sat on the bench right outside the store under the lights. You hunched over as you sat there. Secretly hoping kit would come to take you home, even though you wanted to punch him in the teeth.

You don’t know whether it had been for a few hours or a few minutes you pulled your legs up to your chest and rested your chin on your knees.

You hung your head and didn’t notice the sound of an engine getting louder and louder. You heard the familiar sound of Kit’s truck pull up to the station and park right in front of you. You raised your head and saw Kit exit out of the truck with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. He looked at them timidly before looking back to you. You looked away wiping your nose on your shirt sleeve.

He stood in front of you and got down on his knees. You looked back to him and smiled just a little.

“Baby,” he started, “I am so sorry. You were right I am an asshole. I know you work hard and have to put up with me so, and I know that that’s not easy. I am so sorry, baby. You work so hard and I know I don’t show it but I appreciate it so much. I love you, baby. Please forgive me.”

You looked at him and your smile grew bigger, you took the flowers from his grasp and launched yourself into his arms. Surprised, he caught you and you both fell back onto the ground. When you saw he was okay you peppered his face with kisses and giggled at his expression.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” you said.

Kit stood up and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. You knew he was just mad and he didn’t mean any of what he said. But hearing him apologize and saying how much he loves and appreciate you just made it that much easier to forgive him. No matter what you loved this man with all your heart.

Kit pulled away from you and you looked into his dark brown eyes.

“We should probably get back, the stove is still on,” he said.

“SHIT!”

“More than Cards and Flowers”

Originally posted by publicdomaindiva

By: snowbellewells (TutorGirlml on ff.net)

Tagging a few who may enjoy: @whimsicallyenchantedrose @bromfieldhall @drowned-dreamer @kmomof4 @flslp87 @athenascarlet @dramawiie @midnightswans @laschatzi @enchanted-keys @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable @mossandmushroom

Happy Valentine’s to everyone reading this – even if it’s a day late!  I just wanted to write a bit of festive fluff and feels, and beyond that, this one shot was also borne of my desire to have Killian and Snow White share some bonding time, and to develop for them the sort of friendship and understanding he and David seem to have found.  This may not have the amount of steamy CS interaction one might generally see in a Valentine’s one shot, but it’s definitely still very much CS.

Please enjoy!  I don’t own them, but I would love to hear what you think…

 

           “So, Killian, if you don’t mind me asking,” Snow spoke up curiously from the bowl of forming meringue that she had been carefully whipping into peaks for the last few minutes.  “Why was I the one you called?”

           At her question, Killian Jones chanced a brief, darting glance up to meet Emma’s royal mother’s eyes.  The apples of his cheeks and tips of his slightly pointed ears are flushed red – he can feel the heat of them – but there is no going back now. “You seemed the best candidate to approach for advice on modern cooking and appliances, Milady,” he offered mildly. Truth, to be sure, but he sensed she could read him nearly as well as Emma would in that moment and could tell it wasn’t the whole reason.

           Shaking her head, Snow pressed mischievously, “Oh really? Me? With the soft spot that Granny seems to have for you?”

           He snorted here, humored in spite of himself. “Aye, well, though the Lady Lucas does have her charms,” he shrugged with a rapscallion’s smirk, “I was hoping for something a bit fancier than meatloaf or grilled cheese.”  He scratched behind his ear sheepishly and added, “Not to mention that, this surprise being for Emma, I felt you would be the one motivated as I was to make the holiday wonderful for her, your Majesty.”

           Snow White’s lovely features sobered and gentled immediately at his words; her heart melting as she reached over to lay her soft hand on his forearm.  She didn’t speak for several moments, merely waiting patiently, kindly, for him to lift his eyes to hers once more. When her daughter’s True Love finally did just that, the emotion in their blue depths nearly stole her breath.  “I’m happy to help you,” she responded hoarsely, blinking back tears at the obvious devotion this man held for her daughter, at the knowledge that her lost little girl was finally cherished as she should always have been.

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