Owned - End

Originally posted by hopeatuuli

Now it was surreal. This was to be your child’s room. A child. His child.

You saw it in his eyes, how much he loved this baby already. The excitement in your heart seemed to explode every moment you met his eyes.

“I can’t.” You but your lips nervously, hand shaking and looking at him for help.

He smiled and it was perfect, that moment. He put his hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it, pushing the door open and watching for your reaction.

You gasped and felt speechless.

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There: Epilogue (Bucky Barnes x reader)

Hello babes! I hope your Saturday is going well! I really should be finishing up a project… butttttt I felt really inclined to finish off this series and I couldn’t keep myself from writing it. I’ll try and keep everyone updated on which fics I’ll be posting on what days. If I can handle doing these three fics at the same time, then I’ll open up my requests again. Thanks for understanding, and enjoy this cute little epilogue! xoxo

Description: You lost your world. You lost the love of your life. All by yourself, with nobody to support you. Your daughter would have to grow up never knowing her father. But what happens when Bucky comes along? Will you let him in, or will you push him away like everyone else?

Warnings: None

Chapter 9 


10 Years Later: 

“Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!” Victoria waved goodbye as she hopped up the steps of the school bus. Every morning she had a shining smile on her face, regardless of whether it was a Monday or not. 

“Bye, sweetie. Have a good day at school!” You watched your little girl sit with her friends, instantly absorbed into their conversation. You were standing on your porch, your arm around Bucky’s torso, your head leaning on his chest. “That’s our baby girl.” You tilted your head up at him, giving him a soft smile. 

“She’s growing up so fast.” He placed a kiss on your forehead, pulling you closer to him as the bus drove away. “I still remember the day she started calling me dad.” He sighed, a soft smile coming across his face at the memory. 

“Vic, I made pancakes!” Bucky was sliding the hot cakes on the plate as he yelled up the stairs. 

“I’m coming!” Her voice was small and distant. She was still in her room. You were in your office down the hall, finishing up some paperwork for Fury. Little five year old Victoria came pounding down the stairs. She passed by your office, kissing you on the cheek. “Good morning, Mommy.” She gave you that gleaming smile that always made your day. 

“Morning, sweetheart.” You pulled her into a quick hug. “Better go eat those pancakes before he eats them for you.” You smirked and gave her a wink, and she ran out of your office into the kitchen. 

“Don’t eat my pancakes!” Her socks made her slide along the tile, and she stuck her arms out to stop him. Her eyes were wide with fear. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who said I was going to eat your pancakes?” Bucky chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee as he leaned against the counter. “If anything, I would eat your mommy’s.” 

“I heard that!” The two could hear your voice from down the hall, making him snicker, and Victoria giggle. She hopped up into her chair at the table as Bucky brought over her plate. 

“Here you go, baby.” He smiled down at her lovingly as he placed it on the table. He placed a soft kiss on her head before turning away, walking back to the stove. 

“Thank you, Daddy.” She said cheerfully, diving into her breakfast. Bucky stopped in his tracks, taking a moment. 

“Wait, what did you call me?” He slowly turned around to face her, his voice soft. He was stunned, but in the good way. 

“I-I called you Daddy… Is that okay?” She was sheepish, seeming to shrink in her seat. 

“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine, baby.” He scoffed, a big smile on his face. “I’m just wondering, what made you decide to call me that?” Tears were starting to well up in his eyes, but he tried to blink them away. 

“Well, you love my mommy like a daddy would, you treat me like a daddy would, and I love you like you’re my daddy. So, I thought I might as well call you that. Because you’re like a daddy to me.” She gave him a small smile, taking another bite of her pancakes. 

“I love you so, so much.” He walked briskly back over to the table and pulled her into a hug. She squeezed him back, glad to have him in her life. Silent, happy tears fell down his cheeks. 

Little did either of them know, you were hanging on every word they said as you sat in your office. Soon, your tears were starting to stain the papers that were on your desk. You knew those two had a bond that nobody could break, and that day was honestly one of the best days of all of your lives. 

Bucky tilted up your chin with his metal arm, placing a sweet kiss on your lips. You smiled and took his hand in yours, walking back into the house. Tons of pictures were hung up on the walls from all the trips you took together, all the adventures you had. There were a few from your wedding, all of your smiles radiating in the shots. A year after realizing you loved Bucky, the two of you had gotten married. Each picture showed Victoria growing up with you and him by her side. But, one in particular caught your eye. It was sitting on the fireplace mantle in a white frame. The picture was of Bucky and Victoria in the ice cream shop, her face covered in chocolate ice cream, the day that you told her that you and Bucky were in love. 

“Hey, babe?” You cocked your head to the side, picking up the frame. Bucky was quickly by your side, his flesh arm wrapping around your shoulder, looking down at the picture in your hands. He smiled. 

“I remember that day. One of the best days of my life.” He pressed a kiss to your head. 

“I never got to ask you what you two were whispering about that day.” You looked up at him, shaking your head. “It’s been ten years and I still don’t know. Do you mind telling me?” 

He chuckled, nodding his head. “She asked me how much I loved you and if I was going to stay with you forever. I told her that I’ve never loved anybody as much as I love you, and that I wasn’t planning on ever leaving you two.” He gave you his signature smile. Tears began to well up in your eyes. 

“God, I love you.” You pressed your body against his and pulled him down for a kiss. 

“I love you, too.” He smiled against your lips, then deepened the kiss. Bucky pulled away, quirking his eyebrow up at you then began shifting his eyes between the stairs and you. You giggled, and nodded, and he picked you up effortlessly, bringing you to your bedroom for a little alone time. 

Out of the many pictures that were in your house, there was always one that would hold a special place in your heart. It sat on Vic’s nightstand, so that she would never forget where she came from. The picture was of you, Pietro, and her when she was just a baby. It always brought a smile to your face, and you thanked your stars every day for having him be a part of your life and blessing you with such a beautiful little girl. You would always love him, even years from now. 

Looking down from above was Pietro. He watched over all three of you, every day, all the time. He smiled down at you and Bucky, glad that you were happy. 

“Thank you for taking care of them, Bucky. Thank you for being there for them.”

That’s a wrap! I hope you all liked it! I had a lot of fun writing this series, that’s for sure. Have a wonderful day, and always remember that I love you all very, very much. Thank you for sticking with me. xoxo


@barely-emily @purplekitten30 @mcfuccfairy @fandomlover2001 @elegantnightmareshiro @buckysplumfondler @arabellaaurorabarnes @imgettingmarriedtobuckybarnes @badassbaker @life-is-fuucked @elwenia @thegirlwithnodragontattoo @skeletoresinthebasement @reneekgofficial @cassandras-musings @alyssiamking @justmasblack @deanmonslittleangel @addictionmarvel @sebstanwassup @itsemmyb

anonymous asked:

What do you think Stiles and Lydia's house would be like as adults?

Okay I hate how specific my head canons for this are. 


  • Yellow house
  • Small
  • Deep red door/shutters. 
  • There’s a small backyard patio that Lydia literally makes Stiles do all the work on, so like they have a deck with a grill and a big table (bigger than their kitchen table) and Lydia sits out there grading papers and bossing Stiles around while he does literally all of the gardening and heavy lifting, 
    • He wants to hate her for it but he gets very, very nicely rewarded. 

Living Room:

  • Stiles gets to pick out the couch, that’s his one job, and Lydia builds the rest of the room around it. 
  • One of her art pieces is hanging up above the couch. Stiles does it when she’s out of town, and at first she’s mad but she grows to really like it and it actually inspires her to paint more, which it turns out is really amazing stress relief for Lydia. 
  • They have nerdy-ass throw pillows. 
    • Like, one of them has Shakespeare on it. 
    • One of them has the periodic table of elements
    • One of them has the cover of Stiles’ favorite book that his dad used to read to him when he was growing up. 
    • So on, so forth.
  • There’s candles everywhere, which they totally intend to use but once they get a dog they’re banned from lighting them because suddenly everything in the house is a fire hazard. 
  • Lydia’s got cozy blankets hidden behind the couch and she likes to wrap herself up in them when she’s got a cold. All you can see is the top of her hair and a red little nose. 
  • There’s really fancy, expensive looking art/photography books on the coffee table for guests and Stiles always puts his coffee cups on them. Which, one one hand, yay, coaster, but on the other hand Lydia payed $80 for that book when they were in Paris??? Like???
  • They have an alcohol cabinet in the living room that they rarely ever touched but Stiles keeps stocked. He always knows what people want when they come over, due to his bartending days in college, which makes him an excellent host. 


  • Pretty small
  • Stiles whines about lack of counter space frequently but then Lydia has to sit really close when he’s cooking so like. What’s the real loss, here?
  • There’s a small circular table that comfortably seats two and less-comfortably seats three. They keep saying that they’re going to get a bigger table, but they never do because they ultimately not being able to host stuff. 
  • (If they do people over, it’s in the summer, on the back patio, but other than that, their house is their space and they like it that way. They go to Scott’s for most holidays, anyways.) 
  • The fridge is covered in a collage of their lives. Postcards from Isaac, magnets from Kira, pictures of the pack members printed out and lovingly stuck on there. 
    • There’s a really nice picture of all of them together on the little table next to the front door, where they keep the mail and put their keys in the little dish next to the fake flowers, but this is where all the lovely, goofy pictures are. 
  • The window is perched over the sink, looking out into the backyard, and Stiles likes watching Lydia’s face in the morning sunlight as she washes their plates after breakfast on Saturday mornings. 

Lydia’s Office: 

  • Almost everything is white or soft blue
  • This is her sacred room, it’s very soothing to her 
  • There’s shelves and shelves of books, a desk made of black wood, and an extremely comfortable chair that goes with it. 
  • There’s pretty and simple art on the walls so that it’s not completely bare, but not nice enough art that Lydia feels distracted by it while she’s working. 
  • It’s usually very neat but also covered in stacks of paper, upon which Lydia keeps her reading glasses. (Whenever she can’t find them, they’re always in her office.) 
  • Stiles is rarely allowed to come in, and if he is in there, he has to sit on the white couch and be quiet. 
    • Same goes for the dog. 
  • It has a window seat, which is why Lydia loves it, and she’ll frequently just go read on the window seat on the days that she doesn’t have much to do. 
    • She sketches Stiles from memory on rainy days while she sits in the window seat. She is on a quest to get his nose right– feels like she can never quite capture its spirit
    • She’s A+ at drawing his mouth though, probably because she has a very intimate knowledge of it. 


  • Light wood, no carpet. 
  • There’s black & white pictures in dark black frames leading all the way up the stairs. 
    • Lydia is very proud of the way they’re arranged. 
    • She thinks they’re very aesthetic. 
  • The stairs are lined with pictures of the most important people– Stiles’ mom and dad on their wedding day, Lydia’s mother holding baby Lydia, Scott and Stiles as little kids, Scott and Stiles as teenagers, Allison laughing and wrinkling her nose as she holds a dandelion, Malia, Kira, and Isaac posing together at a long-forgotten Christmas party, Mrs. McCall hugging Stiles around the middle at his college graduation, Stiles and Lydia and Scott at Lydia’s thesis defense, Stiles and Lydia sitting with his dad at the kitchen table on Thanksgiving, several pictures of Scott’s little girls, together and separately, and finally, at the very top, Stiles and Lydia on their wedding day, a candid that Kira had caught with her expensive camera that had somehow come out better than anything their official photographer had snapped of them. 


  • Their bedroom is the room of the house which had taken the most compromise. 
  • It’s a soft white color with gauzy white drapes that blow prettily in the breeze whenever the windows are open. 
    • Stiles says it reminds him of the veil in Harry Potter. 
  • There’s a very tall king sized bed with a very simple, modern bed frame and a dark headboard. 
  • The duvet is deep, dark blue. The sheets are white. The large decorative pillows that they throw over the bed are another shade of blue. 
    • Lydia loves these. Stiles hates them because it makes it harder to leap onto the bed with finesse at the end of the day. 
    • He usually ends up taking them off when he comes home from work, kicks his pants to the floor, and settles into bed to do nothing. 
  • There’s two bedside tables with matching lamps. 
    • Lydia’s bedside table always has a book on it, marked with her spot. She tries to read a little every night but for the most part does not succeed. It also has a nice candle on it and an old silver clock that was her grandmother’s, and a picture of Stiles and Scott. 
    • Stiles’ bedside table usually has money from his pockets, candy wrappers, mugs, and folders from work that Lydia is always tucking into his second drawer down in an effort to straighten up because “it’s not like you’re going to do work in bed anyways, Stiles!” 
    • It’s also got a picture of him and Lydia at the winter formal sophomore year and another one of Lydia with his dad. 
  • Stealing this from @rememberiloveyou: Lydia, for their anniversary one year, bought a huge wooden slab and painted “I love you” “I know” onto it in beautiful white brushstrokes and very fancy handwriting. It hangs right above their bed and is Stiles’ favorite part of the room. 
    • He had been begging her to let him have a Star Wars poster. This is the compromise. 
  • There’s a little chaise lounge in the corner which is supposed to be for decoration but ends up being where Stiles shoves most of his clothes when he’s too lazy to walk over to their walk-in closet and throw them in the laundry bin. 
  • Lydia’s bureau was a gift from her mother when she moved into her first apartment with Stiles and it is boss
    • Antique, enormous, with a huge, ornate mirror that is her pride and joy. 
    • It has one of those soft, cushy stools. 
    • Her makeup drawers are so organized she wants to cry. It is literally her happy place. 
  • There’s a bunch of blue rugs that stretch across the hardwood floor. Their dog likes to sleep on them. In the winter, Stiles cracks up as Lydia jumps from rug to rug to try to avoid how cold the floor is. 

And then there’s a guest room that is easily the fanciest room of the house and is Lydia’s pride and joy. Stiles didn’t give a rats ass what it looked like so she just sorta went off and made it super decorative and modern. Also, they’ve got a bathroom with a separate bathtub and shower because Lydia loves taking baths. 


Warnings: mention of death

Characters: Misha x reader

Word count: 983

Originally posted by mishacollins-gifs

Staring at the picture in front of him, Misha ran a frustrated hand through his hair before reaching for his phone, finally taking his eyes off the white framed picture, which had consumed his thoughts for the past half an hour, to type out a quick message to his date.

He couldn’t go, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He saw it as cheating…despite everything that has happened.

Placing his phone back onto the table, he ran his hands across his face in exhaustion. “Daddy?” The sound of his five year old son standing in the doorway nearly made him jump out of his seat. “What’s wrong?”

Misha weakly smiled, shook his head, and mumbled out a “nothing”. His son rubbed his eyes sleepily as his tiny feet took him closer to his father, tugging on Misha’s pants leg, insisting to be picked up. Glancing down at his son, he smiled a little more. He was a perfect combination of your and Misha’s skin tone mixed as one, tiny freckles lining across his nose and cheeks, topped with your beautiful hair and Misha’s bright glowing blue eyes.

Lifting the tiny, almost weightless child onto his lap, he placed a small kiss to his forehead, reminding him that he loved him no matter what happens. “Why aren’t you asleep?” He asked his son, balancing him on his thighs. “It’s nearly three in the morning,”

“Can’t sleep,” He said, followed by a yawn. Turning around in Misha’s lap, he clutched onto the picture frame that Misha had been staring at, trying to touch your face. “Mummy’s pretty,”

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Friday Heathen Game (Part 2)

Note: I coudn’t stop. I’ve literally slept at 4 am to keep writing and been doing it since I’ve woke. Continuation to the prompt game. And I just… have no idea, really. It just went this way and I have no idea if it makes sense or not, and I also couldn’t bring myself to finish the smutty part… Oh god, just… Sorry. hahahhaha.  

PS. This isn’t my first language. Sorry for any mistakes. 

They walked strangely trough the campus, Ivar refusing to let go of her hand all the way since they left the small exit path of the race track. (Y/N) had put a coat over her gym clothes, but her red eyes were clear to anyone who cared to look more closely. She believed that her red nose and swollen face were not discreet, and the thought that someone could see her that way while walking hand in hand with Ivar made her pull the collar of her coat up a little higher.

- Are you cold? - His question surprised her, though it was not stranger. Ivar was an observer and he paid attention to the small details, one of the things she appreciated in him. He noticed the small things, like a new outfit, haircut or even a new wrinkle of worry on her forehead. It was hard not to like someone who noticed you, was one of her first impressions. They walked in silence all the way, and she paid no attention to where they were going, just letting him take her. When they got to his car, he opened the door and waited for her to be seated inside the car before heading for the driver’s door. Something told her that he was still afraid she would run away at some point, ignore him again as she had been doing in the last weeks and then disappear, or something. The thought drew a small smile from her, for to imagine that he was worried that she would run from him was like one of those things that you find funny because it’s absurd, all the while wanting it to be true. He turned on the heater when he started the car, and they were silent for a while as the car purred and heated. Feeling suddenly sweaty and sticky, (Y/N) opened the coat she wore. The small noise of the zipper broke the concentration of the man at her side to the point where Ivar looked at her, his eyes so full of emotions she could not distinguish that for a second she had the urge to apologize - without knowing why. She almost felt herself uttering the words, her mouth parted with a small sigh, until he broke eye contact and started the march, using a little more force than usual, accelerating to the point where the wheels screamed as he began to drive. (Y/N) preferred to remain quiet, first because what the hell was she going to say? And second because, honestly, she never had a full idea of what Ivar was thinking, and this moment was no different. His expression had returned to that blank it had as he watched her run and the only thing that contained any hint of his feelings was his eyes, and at that moment she honestly did not feel ready to face them.

Then she sank into the passenger seat, feeling crushed by his presence in the small space, completely still until they got wherever they went.

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Cursed (pt 13)

Originally posted by koreanmusicfan

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7 | pt 8 | pt 9 | pt 10 | pt 11 | pt 12 | pt 13 | pt 14

Cat!Yoongi x Reader AU

Warning: Implied smut, implied don’t toot your horn LOL

(A/n): Yooo, so I’m sorry if you’re waiting for Interference, I wanted to finish off Cursed first. Slowly writing it atm if you were wondering^^  

Everything was perfect, way too perfect that you even pinched yourself to see if you were dreaming. You felt boneless, legs jelly as you stirred awake the next morning. A smile spreads across your face as soon as you notice Yoongi curled up beside you, his arm slung around your waist. His expression is so serene and ethereal, you couldn’t help but smile wider. Sooty lashes brushing over his cheeks, pink lips parted ever so slightly, and his hair magically swept perfectly across his forehead. Suddenly, you’re reminded of the day he’d first transformed into a human, bare and snuggled up with you. Both shocked and entranced by the extremely good-looking stranger sleeping in your bed.

The longer you stared at his features, you finally noticed the disappearance of the chain-link that was usually around his neck. Your stomach flipped and you prayed, that this meant that he was free from his curse. God only knows why, but as long as he was finally free.

He doesn’t stir, even as you lean over and press a tender kiss on his lips before peeling off his arm to get out of bed.

The first step off the bed and right away you lose balance and strength, just barely catching yourself and forcing yourself to stand with the help of the nightstand. In all honesty, you’d rather crawl back into bed and spend the rest of the day cuddled up with your slumbering boyfriend, but work calls and you can’t miss work - even if you had an extremely attractive and naked boyfriend knocked out on your bed.

After a much needed shower, you stop in front of the mirror to only notice the purplish-red blotches that scatter all over your neck and chest. Shoulders drooping, you sigh, quietly cursing at Yoongi for marking the higher parts of your neck that can’t be covered by the collar of your shirt. Surely a turtleneck would be fine, a white slim fitting, long sleeve turtleneck with navy dress pants.

Picking at it and fixing the collar of the turtleneck, you feel arms wrap around your waist, someone’s chest pressing into your back. In the full-body mirror you see the reflection of Yoongi standing behind you, his metallic hair messy, and his gaze hooded and unfocused as he examines your front profile in the mirror. A shiver races down your spine, his lips barely grazing that spot behind your ear, breath hot against your skin as you both lock gazes.

“Do you have to go?” he asks, voice low and husky, tightening his arms around you and nuzzling his face into your covered neck, “Why are you covering up too? Why not let them see?”

One hand leaves your middle to tug harshly on the neck of your top, pulling down until he can see one of his many hickies.

“Mm, why not call in, just for today,” he hums, head lowering to lave his tongue over the bruise, “Stay, please.”

You catch the strain in his soft tone, the crack at the end that has your heart breaking, how could you ever leave him alone if he’s pleading to you like that? Turning in his hold, you smile softly up at him, meeting him halfway in a slow kiss, his hands gripping at your hips to lead you back to bed. In the midst of sweet pecks and long smooches, his voice mutters sweet nothings with a smile spread across his lips.

You find yourself forgetting about work, and lose yourself in Yoongi for a second time, your clothes finding their way on the ground with his hands roaming all over your body. This time he’s languid and more lethargic, movements slow and steady, paced and gentle. His mouth is hot fire against your skin just like how you remember from last night, whispering your name as you bend and mold against him.


Where the hell are you?!”

You wince, pulling your phone away from your ear, “Chill, I’m at home… I got a little… er distracted, so if you could do me a cute little favor and fill in for my absence~”

You owe me one, and an explanation, I smell that bull crap right now,” your friend sighs as you chirp a grateful I love you.

Once the phone call is over, Yoongi’s arm around your waist pulls you close to his front, your bodies tired and spent from your early morning activities. Carefully, he brushes your hair over your shoulder before pressing his lips against the nape of your neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” he sighs, snuggling closer to you, legs tangling underneath the bed sheets that cover your bare bodies.

Your heart flutters and cheeks flare, head turning to kiss him, and eventually your whole body to face his. His fingers press gently into your hips, while yours smooth over his cheeks and dive into his mussed up grey hair. Lips parting, his wet appendage dips inside your mouth, smothering your soft moan as he tastes you once again.

“Yoongi,” you sigh, pulling away reluctantly, you let your forehead rest on his, basking in his presence and warmth. Biting your lip once he acknowledges your call, you trace one finger along his collarbone, “Your necklace… it’s gone, I noticed it earlier… does this mean…?”

He nods, leaving a small peck on the tip of your nose, “Yeah. It’s gone.”

His smile is bitter and forced, and you catch it until he covers it by nuzzling his face into your neck. You choose not to elaborate on it and stay silent, cradling his head closer to your body.

“I love you,” you whisper, but he’s already asleep to respond or hear.

The next day when you go to work, you’re expecting your friend to attack you with a bunch of questions, and she does just that once you both are on lunch break.

“You better spill those details right now,” she threatened jokingly, raising her hotdog with a glint in her eyes.

“Don’t play with your food, you child,” you scoff, laughing as she pouts and puts it down. And then you told her, starting from the date to your first time with Yoongi, how he caught you touching yourself to making love, and finally yesterday morning when he managed to persuade you to rejoin him in bed instead of going to work.

By the end of your little story time, she was clapping and squealing, “I’m so proud of you!! Damn, was he good?”

Blushing, you bite your lip and nod shyly to which she giggles.

In the midst of eating, your phone vibrates, your lock screen illuminated along with the incoming message you received. You gawk at the ID reading “Jinri”, the message below saying “Hey :) Can we meet up maybe? I have something of Yoongi’s still left at my place, and there’s no way to get a hold of him, so if you could, maybe come over and get it, that’d be great! Here’s the address: xxxx xxxx xxxx apt 12”

Totally fishy, you think dryly, wondering if maybe you should tell Yoongi instead of going yourself. Anyway, in the first place, how did she even get your cell phone number?

It screams trickery all over it, there was something up, but you didn’t care and went ahead yourself. There’s a part of you that sets up alarms thinking about sending Yoongi to his very pretty ex-girlfriend’s apartment, being alone with her in her place behind closed doors. You remember the first time you saw her, at the park when Yoongi approached her to have a little talk. Was not a very nice feeling, you thought with a frown as you make your way down the hallway of Jinri’s apartment complex.

You come face to face with the nameplate beside the intimidating wooden door of Jinri’s front door, a big fat 12 engraved into the plate of metal. Your fist meets the wooden structure to knock, but the force opens the already cracked door. Blinking, you peer inside the apartment, wondering if it was alright for you to enter without permission.

That’s when you heard it. A voice. It wasn’t Jinri’s, it was a man’s voice though not clear enough for you to tell whose.

Deciding to step inside, you mutter a soft apology, taking off your heels and treading deeper into the nicely decorated apartment. The walls are charcoal with white furnishings, white couches and glass tables, white picture frames and glass chandeliers.

“-I can’t do this to her.”

You freeze, recognizing the voice to be coming from the bedroom. Dread fills you up to the brim as you step closer to the ajar door, light spilling into the dark hallway from the room. That’s Yoongi, it’s no doubt your boyfriend is in there with who you assume is Jinri.

“But you made a promise Min Yoongi, a bet, a challenge, an exchange,” Jinri’s voice speaks up, confident and smooth with a hint of amusement in her tone, “If you got the girl to fall in love with you and fuck her, then freedom was yours - you have to leave her, break her in the end.”

“Did you not say in the beginning - oh so confidently - that she’d be an easy fuck, that you’d be free in no time?”

“Yeah, that’s before I fell—”

What bullshit this is, you think bitterly, wondering if you were the star of a cliche drama. Shoving the door open, you catch the narrowed eyes and nasty smirk of Jinri’s before focusing on the guilt and shock on Yoongi’s face. You’re not having any of it when he gapes and tries to excuse himself but you heard it, you heard the truth about your relationship.

Of course. That’s how life was. You knew from the start, that it was weird how Yoongi would pick someone like you over another when he could literally have any girl he wanted.

“So this is all a lie? You never liked me, you’ve been using me?”

You laugh bitterly, holding your hand up to stop him from interrupting you. Your eyes sting, tears welling up as you try to blink them back. The world was falling at your feet, but you couldn’t just break down right in front of the enemy.

“Congratulations Min Yoongi, you won, you tricked a naive little virgin girl such as myself, fucked me and made me fall for you.. Congratulations on freeing yourself, you fucking asshole.”
“Now that you’ve gotten what you wanted, leave me alone, don’t ever show up in front of me ever again… you can go fuck yourself, Min Yoongi.”

With one last look, you manage a dry smile before running out, snatching your heels along the way.

“What can I say, it was quite a sight to see the one and only player Min Yoongi fall in love for the first time with the girl he’ll inevitably break the heart of and leave. Grade A+ acting Suga,” Jinri shrugs nonchalantly, stopping Yoongi before he can go chasing after you, “Face it, the second you messed with me, your fate was sealed.”

With a snap of her fingers, he feels his body become light, a chain appearing around his neck, this time with a watch attached to it. He lands on all fours, body now the same metallic feline he was when he was first cursed.

“You didn’t think I’d actually let you go free after what you did to me, did you?” she giggles, bending down to caress the smooth metal of the watch connected to his chain. He hisses however and smacks her hand away, claws peeking out of his paws threateningly. Clicking her tongue, she snatches him by the fold of tough skin on the back of his neck, yanking him up until he was eye-level with her.

“You knew all this time then huh, you planned this out, you never planned for me to be free,” he growled, glaring at her, “You told her to meet you, so she could deliberately hear about the plan.. You fucking bitch.”

“Seems like you do have a brain after all Suga darling,” She tilts her head over slightly, smiling sweetly as she lets his given - by you - name roll off her tongue casually, “You know… It could have been any other woman and the same thing would have happened.”
He shakes his head vigorously, narrowing his eyes at her, squirming around when she digs her nails into his skin, “No it couldn’t have, because she’s one of a kind, there’s no one else in this world who could take her place. And it fucking hurts me that this is how it ends.”
Jinri whistles, smirking as she drops him, the feline part of him automatically twisting to land on all fours safely, “Wow, look how whipped you gotten ever since you met her.”
“Don’t you think, this is what you get for playing with the heart of a witch?” she sighs, as she snaps her fingers and he’s back to human form with the chain still around his neck. He hurriedly pulls on his clothes, shoving his feet through the legs of his jeans and slipping on his shirt, pausing when she leans over to tap on the clock connected to his necklace, the object glowing for a brief second until it disintegrates.
“Your time is ticking Min Yoongi, why don’t you make your last hour of living worth it?”

He snorts, crossing his arms over his chest haughtily, “And what’s to happen once I disappear? Hell? Heaven? A mere dark void?”
Shaking her head, she takes a seat on her bed while chirping brightly, “Oh no, you’re going to be a lovely wisp trapped in a jar stored on a shelf alongside the rest of the collection of souls.”
Collection? Wow how many other men played you, you must be a really gullible witch to actually think that a man who seems interested would want you for more than just your body,” he snaps back icily, shoving on his shoes.

Her eyes narrow at him, frowning at his counter, “Shut up, you better take this chance I’m giving you to say goodbye to her, afterall, you won’t be able to see her again.”

And he does, slipping on the rest of his clothes before he’s out the door in a heartbeat and on his way to your place.


You’re curled up on the bed sobbing, body quivering as you blow your nose into the softness of a square of tissue. What the hell were you thinking? Did you really think it to be possible that someone like Yoongi would actually fall for someone like you? For someone like him to even approach you, it had be a part of some sort of fucked up bet. And to know that after all this time he was to throw it all away, not returning your love and breaking your heart. It’s no wonder he was spacing out a lot, it’s no wonder he never said I love you back when you said it, it’s also no wonder the guilt and despair that’s waging a war all over his expression when he lets the emotions slip out accidentally.

Now you know what heartbreak is like, your chest tightening painfully, crushed and torn while endless cries and wails tumble from your mouth. All the times you’ve had to awkwardly comfort a crying friend who got her heart broken, you never really understood the pain they went through, so how the hell were you supposed to handle your first, for pretty much everything?

Yoongi would never hurt you, you laugh dryly, remembering your anxious thoughts before he made love to you. Or maybe he was just fucking you, you thought it was love, but it was just him trying to earn his freedom..

The doorbell chimed and you already knew who it was and chose to ignore it. The ringing turned desperate, you just imagine him jamming the doorbell, finger vibrating over the button before he got tired and began pounding his fists on the door.

“Just hear me out (Y/n)!”

You eventually peel yourself off the bed, slowly trudging towards the front door, each step is heavy as you wipe your face vigorously. Resting your back against the door, you slide down until you’re seated on the ground.

“What else is there for you to say?”

On the other side of the door, Yoongi feels his heart skip at the sound of your voice, resting his hands and forehead on the door. “There’s a lot of things I have to say… you didn’t even let me finish what I was about to say back there…”

“Yes it’s true that in the beginning this was all a game, Jinri was supposed to be a hook up, turns out she was a witch and when I hurt her she– well you know turned me into a cat… and when I transformed for the first time back into a human and she brought up that exchange, I was desperate and had no feelings for you at the time…”

Letting out a shaky breath, he closed his eyes, picturing you on the other side, devastated and in tears when he took your heart and played with it just like he did with Jinri.

“I’m sorry.”

You scoff, laughing dryly at his apology, “Is that really all you can say? Do you really think I’d take you back after you totally used me?”

“It was only like that in the beginning,” he sighs, chest tightening, “That’s before I fell for you, I wasn’t lying when I said you were different from all the other women I’ve been with, please trust me when I say I love you, fuck I’ve never felt like this before… my heart feels like it’s about to explode around you, I feel like I’m in heaven with you, none of those women gave me that feeling, they were just stupid hook ups. I’m not going to stand here and lie saying I never played them, when I probably broke most of their hearts… But yours, I never wanted to break.”

“I know after all that mess back there, you can’t forgive me, but I’m so sorry and I love you, please know that.”

His eyes glaze over with tears, opening them slightly, through the blur of the tears he can fairly make out the disappearance of his shoes. Not just his shoes, he no longer had feet, his ankles already starting to disintegrate. His breath hitched, eyes widening before he desperately knocked on the door.

“Let me in (Y/n)! There’s not much time left, I need to see you just once more!”

Glancing down, he sucks in a sharp breath, up to his thighs already having already disappeared.

“Y-Yoongi… I don’t know I–”

“I’m disappearing!” he snaps, jiggling the doorknob furiously, the tips of his fingers beginning to fade away, “Open this damn door (Y/n)!”

You fling it open after much hesitation and can’t suppress the gasp that escapes you when Yoongi’s already faded from his waist down. Eyes widening, you gape at the absence of his lower body, flickering between his slowly disintegrating body to his sad eyes and guilt-ridden smile.

“Yoongi… what…?”

Relief washed over the desperation on his expression as he spread his arms apart. You immediately fell into his arms, his warmth slowly fading away just like his arms and torso.

“I’m so sorry (Y/n),” he whispered, “I never meant to hurt you, despite the bet, I truly wanted to be with you.”

You could no longer feel the weight of his hands around you, the constricting of his arms, they were gone and you quickly took this chance to press your lips against his, desperate for the remainder of his heat, his presence until it’s gone. He’s gone.

“I love you (Y/n).”

He’s gone and you’re left all alone in the doorway of your apartment, the strength in your legs fading away, just like how Yoongi’s body did, until your knees buckled and you sat on the floor sobbing.

The end, I’m kidding there’s one more left

Hallway of the Future Part 1

Characters: Gabriel x Reader, Dean & Sam x Reader (family)

Words: 1285

Summary: Gabriel takes the Winchester trio on a trip to a special place, showing them and telling them lots of different things, to help the trust grow between them all.

Warnings: Family issues

Part 23 in Dreams.  Read Part 1 here, Part 2 here, Part 3 here, Part 4 here,Part 5 here, Part 6 here, Part 7 here, Part 8 here, Part 9 here,Part 10 here, Part 11 here, Part 12 here, Part 13 here, Part 14 here,Part 15 here, Part 16 here, Part 17 here, Part 18 here, Part 19 here, Part 20 here, and Part 21 here, and Part 22 here.

We still have a lot to go! :) Enjoy!

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So, the Flamingo Lounge was a gay bar. It’s not just the pink Flamingos or the fruity drinks with tacky umbrellas or the fact that the patrons were mostly male couples, but because it was coded as the complement to the Black Spur bar.

You see the picture of the woman on the wall at the Black Spur. Dean is pointing right the fuck at it, you see it.

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Now the walls of the Flamingo Lounge? Full of men. The pictures on the wall were all men.

Same kind of black and white pictures in old timey frames. Only men.

This joint was coded as a gay bar. It’s also a parallel for the Black Spur.

So I’m wondering is whether Dean did Harv the bartender too, like he did Ann Marie. Because did you see the way Harv didn’t just let Dean hang out, playing the piano in his joint after hours (this wasn’t a demon joint, Dean had been there before Crowley, Dean was still there when Crowley left him, and Crowley with his minions only started hanging out there because of Dean), Harv left his own fucking joint  to give him some privacy when Dean asked him to.

Why would he do that? Because Dean is such a good customer? No, man. Harv tapped that. Harv tapped that like Ann Marie tapped that, because these joints were clearly paralleled.

The line to blow Jerry & Serge starts behind me.

 "We’re here,“ says Prince, grinning. "Come on in.”

One look inside tells the undramatic story. Yes, it seems the National Enquirer – whose Minneapolis Babylon exposé of Prince was excerpted in numerous other newspapers this spring – was exaggerating. No, the man does not live in an armed fortress with only a food taster and wall-to-wall, life-size murals of Marilyn Monroe to talk to. Indeed, if a real-estate agent led a tour through Prince’s house, one would guess that the current resident was, at most, a hip suburban surgeon who likes deep-pile carpeting.

“Hi,” says Rande, from the kitchen, “you got a couple of messages.” Prince thanks her and offers up some homemade chocolate-chip cookies. He takes a drink from a water cooler emblazoned with a Minnesota North Stars sticker and continues the tour. “This place,” he says, “is not a prison. And the only things it’s a shrine to are Jesus, love and peace.”

Off the kitchen is a living room that holds nothing your aunt wouldn’t have in her house. On the mantel are framed pictures of family and friends, including one of John Nelson playing a guitar. There’s a color TV and VCR, a long coffee table supporting a dish of jellybeans, and a small silver unicorn by the mantel. Atop the large mahogany piano sits an oversize white Bible.

The only thing unusual in either of the two guest bedrooms is a two-foot statue of a smiling yellow gnome covered by a swarm of butterflies. One of the monarchs is flying out of a heart-shaped hole in the gnome’s chest. “A friend gave that to me, and I put it in the living room,” says Prince. “But some people said it scared them, so I took it out and put it in here.”

Downstairs from the living room is a narrow little workroom with recording equipment and a table holding several notebooks. “Here’s where I wrote and recorded all of 1999,” says Prince, “all right in this room.” On a low table in the corner are three Grammys. “Wendy,” says Prince, “has got the Academy Award.”

The work space leads into the master bedroom. It’s nice. And … normal. No torture devices or questionable appliances, not even a cigarette butt, beer tab or tea bag in sight. A four-poster bed above plush white carpeting, some framed pictures, one of Marilyn Monroe. A small lounging area off the bedroom provides a stereo, a lake-shore view and a comfortable place to stretch out on the floor and talk.

Cast Some Light [Mercy 76 Fanfic] Chapter 1

Doctor’s Visit

They were on another mission, like usual, but damn, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

Soldier 76 usually isn’t the one to complain about things, but getting badly injured when they were so close to being done with the occurring firefight might have given him something to gripe about.

He hurried to get to cover, and once he rounded a sharp corner, he sat down, leaning his head back on the closest wall. 76 looked back from where he came from, making sure no one was following him. He caught a glance at the now crimson soaked sleeve of his jacket, a sizable tear showing where the bullet entered his arm. His head drooped as he went for one of his Biotic Field containers, but realized that he threw his last one away for Reinhardt.

A few minutes pass, then suddenly, he hears the familiar clicking of heels getting closer to him. He lifts his head up to see the angelic blonde rushing to his side. For once, he’s grateful that Angela went along with him during a mission. Any other time, he would try his best to keep interaction with her to a minimum. No way was he risking her finding out who he really is. He knew that if he spent too much time with her, spent too much time talking, he’d eventually slip up and blow his cover. Angela was always a keen observer, especially when it came to him.

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I'll love you for a thousand more

Set immediately after 10x14. Title from “A Thousand Years” by Christina Perri
read on AO3

Castiel found Dean in his room, reorganizing his shelves even though they looked immaculate. When Castiel stepped through the doorway, Dean glanced at him over his shoulder before returning to his work.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Dean said.

“Where else would I be?” Castiel asked.

It may have been Castiel’s imagination, but he thought he saw Dean’s hands shaking as he stacked his magazines in a neat pile.

“It’s not safe for you to be around me,” Dean muttered. “It’s better if you just leave me alone.”

“Dean…” Castiel began.

“Cas, please.” Dean turned to face him, his eyes imploring. “I can’t worry about hurting you, too.”

Castiel didn’t move as Dean sat down on the edge of his bed, his back to Castiel, wiping the dust from one of the picture frames on his bedside table. His head was bowed over his work, his shoulders slumped, and he looked so tired and beaten down. Something inside Castiel, something human and raw, ached to see him like this. He wished he could hold Dean in his arms and somehow make all of this go away, but instead he spoke the only truth he was absolutely certain of.

“I love you.”

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