was feeling sentimental about leaving this stuff behind but then nope

anonymous asked:

Hey! Just read your Baker!Derek fic and... IT'S AMAZING! PLEASE, PLEASE, PRETTY PLEASE could you give us more? I'm dying of curiosity with what will happen and I just loved Derek's interaction with the sheriff, haha. Anyway, thanks for writing bc it's already awesome!

since i actually got a few requests to finish it here part two to this fic

That night, out of nowhere, Derek decided to cook homemade lasagna. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to make his own noodles because things at the bakery took longer than he wanted, but store bought is fine. He finds it comforting to go through the methods of cooking this dish. Stirring together the ricotta and mozzarella. Making homemade sauce and chopping up garlic to go into it. Then he focuses on lining the pan with noodles and then layering the ingredients together. It really quiets his mind and prevents him from freaking about Stiles.

Of course, as soon as it’s in the oven and Derek is done cleaning up, all he has is time to freak the fuck out. He is kind of pretty sure he has a thing for Stiles, and Stiles might have a thing for him, which is even scarier. But it’s too soon to tell, Derek is sure of it. And really, they just barely met, so why is he freaking out?

Probably because it’s been so long since he has ever dated. He hasn’t had time lately, so it’s kind of been on the back burner, but now Stiles is right there and well…he doesn’t want to say no to this.

Keep reading

Third and Maple

Request: no

Tags: @lightthischickup @sassysupernaturalsweetheart @mishaohmygod @arian5a 

Warnings: smudge of angst, reference to PTSD, teeth rotting fluff

Summary: There’s a nostaliga shop on the corner of Third and Maple that Bucky goes in for more than just the memories.  

Originally posted by itsjustmycrazyvibe

On the corner of Third and Maple there was a small shop just a bit classier than a hole-in-the-wall and only a fraction larger. The building was a comforting one, built out of brick that had seen it all. Nestled in between the modern sharpness of grey concrete from the bank and the endearing stucco of the neighborly Cuban restaurant, was Yesteryear. 

Keep reading

Epic rant on why the Jedi Council is a group of idiots

The Jedi Council is a group of fuckwits.

Yeah, I just said fuckwits. And nope, it’s not Sheev writing this.

First of all, Thank you, oobiwan, because this rant probably wouldn’t be here without you. :)

*sigh*

So, where do I start?

Well, aside from the obvious mistakes in their very Code (which my buddy oobiwan has already nicely pointed out), I’m gonna start with Anakin.

Keep reading

Something Dry

Request: So I wanted to make a request if you’re not too busy ~ With Kihyun. I always imagined him a bit cocky but still very caring so .. yeah I’ve nothing special in mind, as long as Kihyun is in it I’m happy ♡

Member: Monsta X Kihyun x Y/N x (ft. Hyungwon)

Type: Fluff/Slight smut


I watched as the water pooled around my bare feet on the tile. I was extremely soggy as I stood in the entryway of the Monsta X dorm. Hyungwon looked at me, relatively unfazed as he munched on a bag of chips just steps away in the living room. 

“Should I…like…get a paper towel?” he asked, lifting his brows. 

“Something absorbent would be helpful,” I hissed through barred teeth.

Hyungwon’s facial expression didn’t change as he stuffed another handful of chips in his mouth and shuffled into the kitchen. A few moments later he reappeared, napkins in hand, and took a spot beside me. The chips had disappeared and he was now holding tea. He took the paper towels and began to sprinkle them like rose petals before me, setting up a very concise route for me to walk. 

“Hyungwon,” I groaned, already exasperated with his antics. It had been raining for weeks now and on the walk over to the dorms, my umbrella had turned inside out, leaving me soaked by the time I arrived. Kihyun still hadn’t made it back from the studio, so I was left dealing with Hyungwon.

“What?” he asked, lifting his brows, looking equally as done with the situation. “You step on the individual pieces. It’ll absorb.”

“And just wear are you leading me to?” I sighed. 

“To Kihyun’s room I assume,” Hyungwon answered, shaking is head as if it were obvious. 

As if saying his name verbally had caused him to appear, Kihyun came through the door. 

“Jagi,” he breathed, immediately immersing me in a back hug. He held me tight as he nuzzled his face into my wet neck. “Why…why are you moist?”

“My umbrella broke,” I grumbled, shaking him off. “And Hyungwon is obviously saving the day here.”

“Aish,” Kihyun grumbled, looking up at Hyungwon. “Really? Do you not know where the towels are?”

Kihyun stepped around me as he continued down the hall, muttering to himself. He came back much quicker than Hyungwon had, a large, fluffy towel in his hands. He wrapped it around me and I noticed it was warm. It was incredible the type of tricks Kihyun pulled, but I had no idea how he could possibly have a warm towel prepped. 

“Come on,” he cooed, tugging at the towel he had just wrapped around me. I stumbled, keen on keeping stationary as I was still dripping. I allowed Kihyun to pull me as he looked back, a cocky grin on his face. 

“Kihyunie,” I groaned as I stood idly in the middle of his room. “I’m going to get your stuff wet.”

“Not if you’re about to change your clothes,” he chuckled, digging around in the closet. He tugged out a few things and threw them at me. The towel dropped from around my shoulders as I caught the clothes and looked up at him. I was suddenly incredibly self aware as I stood before him in my white t-shirt (not one of my better ideas). I immediately pulled the clothing up to cover my chest and grimaced. 

“Aigoo,” he gasped, pulling his hands from my body. He drank up the image of me, my shirt nearly see through with tight lips. “If you hold it against you, it won’t be something dry to change into, now will it?”

“Can-can you leave then?” I stuttered, thoughts bouncing around because of his close proximity. My flesh was covered in goose bumps and I shivered from the wet cold. 

“What’s the point?” he said quietly, his face inches from mine. “I’m pretty sure I can see everything now.”

“Kihyun!” I gasped. He chuckled to himself as he stepped away. 

“Fine, fine,” he smiled. “You have three minutes.”

I groaned as he exited the room, shutting the door behind him. I pulled at my wet clothes which had become a second skin. They landed on the floor around me with a plop. I picked up the towel I had deprived myself of and quickly did a once over of my naked body before tugging out Kihyun’s clothes. A pair of boxers, sweatpants, and an oversized hoodie. I rolled my eyes as I tugged each piece on and sighed. The sweatpants fit for the most part, but the sweatshirt was incredible oversized. I waved my sweater paws at myself and chuckled. If this boy had anything in his closet that fit him, it would be a miracle. I knew he was thinner than I was, but everything was even big on me. 

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning through the door that was cracked. “You dressed?”

“If that’s what you want to call it,” I murmured, shaking the extra sleeve past my fingers and smiled. 

“I mean, you don’t have to wear it,” he grinned, slowly approaching me. 

“Good, do you have a t-shirt or something?” I muttered, looking down at my outfit. 

“Nope,” Kihyun growled, grabbing me by the extra fabric of my sweatshirt. He placed a quick kiss on my lips before I could even react, leaning away almost as soon as his lips made contact. 

“I’m not walking around your dorm naked,” I hissed, crossing my arms. My face was already growing hot from the sudden contact. 

“Who said you’d be walking around?” he smiled, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Kihyun!” I gasped as he slowly walked me backwards. We landed in the bottom bunk that I knew to be Jooheon’s as he hovered over me. “I am also not getting naked in Jooheon’s bed!”

“Why?” Kihyun groaned, his lips already hovering over my neck. “You got naked in Wonho’s.”

“Number one, it’s because you told me you two had switched. Number two, please don’t phrase it like I slept with your member!” I spat, smacking him lightly on the chest. 

“Mmm, sorry,” he hummed, vibrating his lips on my skin as they casually passed over my already goose bumped flesh. He kissed carefully, earnestly, as if he had a very specific job to finish. I groaned his name as he hit the sweet, hallowed spot near my collar bone that sent electricity through my senses. 

His hands slid up my sides and beneath the oversized hoodie he had provided me. My breath hitched as his slender fingers casually passed my breasts and a shiver slid down my spine. His hands travelled back down my stomach, stopping at my hips where he pressed down lightly, shimmying my sweatpants down a bit. He smiled as he pressed my half naked body against his. 

“What the hell?” a loud voice gasped from near the doorway. My hands immediately flew to my exposed body as I tugged up my pants and Kihyun slid down the sweatshirt. 

“Oh come on Jooheonie,” Kihyun moaned, leaning up and spinning around to face his younger member. “Give hyung a little space.”

“I’ll give you space anywhere but in my friggin bed!” Jooheon shouted, his arms flying as he spoke. “Can’t you do it Wonho’s or something?!”

“My sentiments exactly,” Kihyun whispered so only I could hear. I rolled my eyes, finally feeling alright enough to sit up. 

“I’m sorry Heonie,” I whispered, completely embarrassed. 

“It’s not you,” Jooheon groaned, his voice much softer when he spoke to me. “It’s tiny Satan on top of you.”

“I resent that,” Kihyun mumbled, standing from the bed and helping me off of it. 

“If you wanted the lower bunk all you had to do was ask,” Jooheon groaned as he shuffled to his bed, his face disgusted as he leaned down to sit on it. 

“Can I have the lower bunk?” Kihyun smiled, his eyes disappearing in his cheekbones. 

“No,” Jooheon laughed, leaning backwards onto the mattress. 

“Come on Y/N,” Kihyun muttered, pursing his lips. “Let’s go bake something.”

“It’s how he relieves all that pent up frustration,” Jooheon cackled as we exited the room. 

“What are we baking?” I asked, furrowing my brows as I was tugged along the hallway. 

Kihyun looked back at me, half exasperated, half amused. “Muffins of course.”

Originally posted by aceyng

you love the hate that we share

I think this is the most antagonistic version of Stiles and Derek I’ve ever written. It was surprisingly fun.

Sterek high school AU,  ~5.7k words, rated T. Title from the song “Enemies” by Shinedown.

Maybe it’s petty — okay, it most definitely is — but it just irritates Stiles that the universe makes people like Derek Hale. He’s practically superhuman at lacrosse; he’s been blessed by the puberty gods with stubble and muscles on top of muscles and not a pimple in sight; he spouts off effortless monologues in Spanish class while Stiles is still struggling to remember how to say “Can you repeat that?”; he could probably make a killing as a male model; and when he asked Lydia to study with him, she said yes. Like, seriously, what the fuck.

Keep reading

How To Lose A Gem

Jimin x Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: language

Words: 2,109

This is something I wrote because I haven’t posted in a while, so I’m posting it now because I’m still working on longer content for you all. Call it a gift, if you will.


Originally posted by bwipsul

I could quite literally tell you how to lose a gem. Whether it be sentimental, something passed down through generations, or a piece of rock bought for show. I could tell you right now how to “lose” it. Maybe throw it in a lake, put it in the disposal, or simply place it in the trash.

Nevertheless, the gem I’m referring to isn’t something that can be bought. It’s not something that is easily lost, and it is definitely not jewelry. Its a man. Jimin, to be exact.

I guess this wouldn’t really help if you had a husband that was already tired of your shit. A husband who has wanted to move out since the moment he found out how you really eat.

This, this is for wives with husbands that won’t let go, no matter what. The ones that will whisper sweet nothings into your ear, even at 4 o'clock in the morning. This, is how to lose a gem.

Keep reading

The Amazing Part Is

You’re in love with a beautiful boy, and the amazing part is that he loves you back. He’s all dark honey eyes and buttermilk skin, moles down his neck that he lets you kiss and kiss again. He’s all sharp laughter and too wide sweeps of his arms, and it’s been ten months but you’re not thinking about your first anniversary you’re thinking about forever.

He tells you about the town he’s from, and you know those years growing up are built into the bedrock of him. But you also know that there are reasons he’s not going back. Things happened there that were the kind of bad he’s only come to terms with half way. He won’t quite tell you what they are, but he gives you the outlines: Erica, Boyd, Allison. You think it may have been something to do with drugs, definitely sounds like gangs. That was all a long time ago, though. You don’t hold it against him. How could you?

You don’t live together but you have a toothbrush in his bathroom. There’s a side of his bed that’s yours, a phone charger and two old glasses of water on the nightstand. When you say you love him, he smiles and he says, “I love you, too,” so brightly, like you’re a quick student who got the right answer. He says it like he’s pleased with you, like a reward. He doesn’t say it first, but then he isn’t particularly romantic. He’s fun and he can be thoughtful, but he doesn’t do lovey-dovey. He doesn’t do intense. Stiles is flighty, almost weightless in his constantly flitting attention. But you have a toothbrush in his bathroom, and you love him.

Keep reading

Something Old, Something New

Because @brandnewfashion and @lady-pei are menaces giving people feelings about idiots planning their friends wedding. 


At first Holster and Ransom just exchange an embarrassing amount of texts after everyone hears Jack finally proposed. Being happy for your friends, especially the ones that deserve to be disgusting happy, is a boisterous cloud to live on. The slew of well wishing Jack and Bitty get is their due. But somewhere in all the congratulations and celebrating an idea is born.

What if Ransom and Holster do Bitty the one solid they couldn’t at Samwell and make sure he gets his happily ever after? It’s not getting their buddy a blind date, but it’s a step in the way of seeing a good friends take the happiness they’ve earned. 

“Are we really gonna do this?” Ransom asks looking over the stack of bridal magazines while Holster is reading through another wedding planning friendly guide.

“Yup.” Holster snorts a bit. “Way too much babys breath in those arrangements. And daisies for a filler is just juvenile. I mean if it was for sentimental reasons I’d be on board but man look at this thing it’s just so awkward.”

Ransom looks at the pictures and agrees. The petals are pressed to be bunched or stick out. “It looks like someone sat on it.”

“It really does. Do you think anything would actually go with maples leaves or is that overkill?”

“Archway made of branches for an outdoor ceremony might work. But that’s a lot of red to compete with for any flowers. Maybe pick colors first. Mean you clash the wrong way and you’re too far in it’s going to be…”

“A complete disaster.” Holster says picking up on Ransom’s train of thought with ease. “So colors first. Though thinking full flowers no matter what. Pastels for spring would be nice do you think? Have they picked a date?”

“Nope. We should start with basics. Like date and color scheme.”

Holster nodded and left the first blog behind to go to another. “Time to start the battle plan?”

“Time to start the battle plan. Vote we call this operation: maple pecan.” Ransom flags a page in the magazine he’s reading because the centerpiece ideas look affordable but elegant. “…that backfired now I want pie.”

“Same man, same.” 


Jack hadn’t known what to make of the way Ransom and Holster had turned up decked out in full suits to take them to start checking out bakeries. Frankly Jack wouldn’t have been surprised if Eric had demanded to make the wedding cake himself on nothing but determination. 

Instead all four of them were in Ransom’s SUV headed for a place called The Bread Basket. Bitty had even tentatively passed the bakery’s online ordering selection and process - very user friendly - before the visit. But it was probably a little more surreal that Holster was currently giving them a rundown of the staff. Full names, qualifications, and specialties. 

“They don’t specialize in big weddings but the quality is through the roof.”

Ransom glanced in his rearview to look at the pair of fiancee in the backseat. “And reasonable pricing for the time and materials. Even the adjusted pricing for short notice wasn’t half as bad as some places.”

“You’re talking about Glazed, right?” Holster asked looking up from his notes.

“You know it.” Ransom wasn’t hiding his disapproval. But given the inflated prices for the meager baked goods that were okay half the time, it wasn’t an unfounded disapproval. 

Jack just glanced at Bitty to see if he had any idea what was going on to see his fiancé nodding. 

“They treat their customers complaints like they’re in the wrong, just isn’t right.” Bitty muttered. “Their pies are a mess, their crumble belongs in a sandbox! I mean where’s your pride?” 

Jack could only watch as their impromptu planners started discussing the finer points of what they wanted in their food. Starting with confections that left Bitty a lively participant. But they tried to keep Jack in the loop some, asking him if he agreed or disagreed on points. 

It was all in all a surreal experience, but nice. 


The boutique isn’t small but it’s not large, but on the bright side neither Ransom of Holster need to duck to get inside. An older woman is manning the reception desk and stops short when they enter. 

Ransom pulls a smile and removes his sunglasses. “Morning ma’am we’ve here to talk about the Zimmerman and Bittle wedding. We should be in your appointment book for ten.”

Holster is browsing the laid out selection of photos and pricing packages they have for such purposes. His glasses are on and he still has his hand free headset on while he opens up a brochure on couples fun bonus packages available. 

The woman behind the counter checks the schedule and smiles back at Ransom. “Thank you very much, which of the grooms are you?”

“Oh no ma’am. We’re here for them, we’re the wedding planners.” Ransom pulls out a business card he had made just for dealing with the potential vendors. “I’m Justin Oluransi, and this is my associate Adam Birkholtz.” 

The woman behind the desk takes the card and seems to recover pretty quickly from her faux pas. “The last appointment is still wrapping up, would either of you like coffee while you wait?”

Holster sidles up about then. “That would be great please.” 

But the gleam in his eye is what makes Ransom. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

As soon as the receptionist is out of ear shot Holster pipes up. “We should plan something for Jack. Mean he’s a little out of his element with al this stuff but some photos would be right up his alley.”

And it’s a good plan actually. Jack enjoyed his photography elective at Samwell. A few of the photos are still around the shared house he and Bitty have. 

“Mmm candid would be best though.” It’s more Jack’s style. 

“Friends and family thing to celebrate? Make sure he’s got his camera and film available. Good memories.” 

Ransom nods because he can picture that. Jack would like those kinds of photos. “Think we can convince Bitty to pose for a few?”

“Easy. I was thinking…maybe a trip back to Haus. Do a set of photos there.” Holster suggest. “You know where it all started. Some of the campus too and some of the local spots. Hell maybe send them grocery shopping together and take photos.”

Rather than nothing but a slew of photos of everyone in their dresses and suits it would be more sentimental. “That would be perfect actually. Scrapbook at the rehearsal dinner to them both?”

“Yes, we’re gonna make them cry.” 

Personal touch decided they just needed to find someone who could be trusted to take group photos and film the ceremony. And it was a high set bar because these were precious memories that only came along once. Only the best would do.


Holster is trying to be patient waiting for Jack to put on the suit. It’s the second fitting and the first adjustments had been made so it’s a check to see if the fit is right. And about the last chance they have to change their mind without having to start completely form scratch again. Menswear isn’t the most complicated thing to tackle for a wedding - everyone’s happy there’s going to be no wedding gown.

And in three days Bitty will go through the same thing with Ransom. Separate fittings to avoid any run-ins and spoiling the surprise.

Watching Jack stand around and get stabbed with a pin or two had been enough to push aside the emotional upheaval the whole thing brought about. At least for Hoslter. Alicia, not so much. She’d dabbed at her eyes and had to excuse herself from actually crying on her son. 

The click of the dressing room door brought Holser’s attention away from his e-mail on his phone. 

Jack looked like he wanted to fidget, always more at home in a jersey or a flannel than anything else, but he awaited judgment. 

“How do I look?”

Holster looked him over from polished shoes to his windsor knot. The suit was drawn in properly and the lapels laid flat in thin line to exaggerate Jack’s height further. None of it matched the messy hair Jack had given himself from running his hands through his hair.

“Could get you a cap and gown if you’re worried about Bitty turning up his nose.” 

No one had been happy to hear that little story. Or they hadn’t been happy they’d all missed it. But the goodnatured ribbing did it’s job and Jack let out a little chuckle.

“Think my old one still fits.” Jack took a look at himself in one of the wall length mirrors. “I look ridiculous.”

“No problem with a helmet and mouth guard but this you think is goofy?” Holster asks but goes to fuss a little bit. A little combing and Jack’s hair looks less bedhead and more Sunday best. “What don’t you like about it?”

It’s a serious question and Jack gives his reflection a more probing once over. 

“I don’t know.”

“Is it the matching tie and socks? Because Ransom keeps insisting that’s a must.”

“No, no. Just something’s missing.” Jack mutters with an uncertain set about his expression.

Standing back Holster tries to see what he means. Something is amiss. Jack doesn’t dress this way often and normally he’s not alone when he has a reason to be dressed in a full suit.

When it hits him Holster just has to take out his phone and snap a photo to send to Ransom. Groom match check. Is all he sends with the snapshot.

“You look good. Bitty’s just not around to match.”

It seems to be the right thing to say because Jack looks surprised at his own reflection before he smiles at the empty spot beside him. No doubt imagining their Itty Bitty in place. 

“You think so?” Jack asks, but sounding more reassured already.

Blue and gold were the right colors. Our boys are gonna rock it. Holster reads the quick reply on his phone and can’t help but to agree. 

“Know so.”

Merry Christmas, stileslovesderek!

It’s a few hours into Christmas morning before Stiles manages to slip out of the house. Waving Derek’s present at his dad while he runs out the door, he yells, “Remember, dinner’s at 6!” His dad’s affirmative reply is muffled but still easy to make out, making Stiles grin as he bounds down the steps, and he stuffs the brightly wrapped gift into his bag while heading towards the Jeep.

“Stiles!” The teenager actually skids on the pavement before turning around towards the front door. His dad stands with a familiar box in hand and a wry smile on his face. “You forgot the cake.”

“Crap! Thanks, dad!” Stiles jogs back to accept the bakery box. “What about the candles?”

Rolling his eyes, the Sheriff nudges Stiles back down the steps. “He’s a grown man. He can do without the candles.”

“You can never be too old for candles on your birthday cake!” Stiles declares over his shoulder, slipping on the final step but still landing on his feet. He hops into his Jeep, gives his dad a quick wave, before pulling out and driving away to Derek’s.

Keep reading