Because, even through all your stupidity. Through all that shit, I still saw you. Locked away and drowned out. But in every message you sent, I saw a sliver of the girl I fell for. The girl that I love and still do to this day. I can yell and shout and tell myself it isn’t true but I can’t just let you go. It’s impossible, trust me, I’ve tried. With drinks, sleep, and lots more drinks. But still I can’t get you out my head. The way you smiled at me when we’d lay in the living room watching stupid movies on netflix. The way your heart beat slower, and the way you relaxed against me when my arms went around you. The small moments where I do something silly and you roll your eyes telling me I’m an idiot. But I’d tell you that I was your idiot. Every moment. Every goddamn memory is engraved in my head like it’s chiseled in stone. From hugging you as I watched you draw to laughing about some silly noises while we had sex. I remember it all. It’s my gift and curse because I sit here and watch as you hurt yourself knowing I’m fucking hopeless in trying to tell you to stop. What’s my voice compared to the drugs? To the parties? When’s it going to end? I don’t know. I just know I sit here. And wait.

ladyinpink112  asked:

Can I request imagine with young Sirius Black and prompts: 81,90,95,96,100,109? Thanks & I think your blog is amazing <3

Thanks, love you lots <3

81. “I may be an idiot but I’m your idiot” and 90. “Who gave you that black eye?!” and 95. “Are you drunk?” and 96. “I’m sorry, what were you saying? I keep getting lost in your eyes” and 100. “I’m starting an idiot jar. Any time you do or say anything idiotic, you have to put at least a dollar in it—more depending on how stupid the thing that you said or did was” and 109. “Don’t say you love me” with young Sirius Black!

You were having a lazy evening. Twenty years old and utterly knackered, you were sitting at home with not much to do other than read and sketch. You had grown tired of the latter quickly after realizing that you were having an off day, art-wise, so reading it was.

You had been reading mostly classics like the Bronte sisters and Jane Austen because you were a nut for Romance, capital R. You had been reading for so long, in fact, that next you looked out your window, it was pitch black outside.

You sighed and flopped backwards onto your bed, books scattered around. Your tiny apartment was just off Diagon Alley in a predominantly muggle area, so there was always quite a lot of noise. You were paying the bills with your job at the apothecary, which is just about as fun as it sounds. Still, you made a generous amount of money, and the owner was quite liberal with vacation days. Not to mention that in dark times such as these, any kind of financial stability was a blessing.

You counted yourself as very lucky.

You were deliberating what to eat, but once you looked at the clock and noticed that it was well past midnight (wowza), takeout didn’t seem like a practical decision. You were living in a pretty bad area and you weren’t going to risk getting avada’d, or worse, knifed by a drunk muggle. At least the curse would be quick.

You were swinging back and forth between the decision to make grilled cheese or have some left over pasta, when you heard a painfully loud crash outside your apartment window. You were only on the third window looking over a rather sketchy alleyway, so at first you put it to two fighting cats. But when you heard a loud moan and another crash, you realized that it was someone who was probably wasted.

You sighed and, out of curiosity, pushed yourself off of your bed and peeked outside through your thick curtains.

You squinted when you spotted a rather tall figure stumbling around one of the dustbins, muttering to himself. You craned your ears to hear him mutter something about bloody something or other, and you put it down to a sad man with too much nonsense going on in his head.

You were about to turn to make a midnight snack for yourself when you froze, hearing a familiar string of curses that only one man you knew always used.

“Fuck me, y’ fuckin’ bowtruckle’s bollocks!”

You turned slowly and drew the curtain away again, dreading the result of your suspicion. Sure enough, you spotted a familiar curtain of dark hair and the glint of an antique Black signet ring on his pinky, as well as three whisky bottles which he was juggling between his clumsy hands.

You immediately spun around, grabbed a throw from your bed and scuttled out your room into your narrow corridor, and right out the door.

Once you arrived downstairs, Sirius had exited the alley and was making his way down the isolated street when you made it to him. You grabbed his arm which nearly made him fall over, and he swung his entire body around and threw his weight on to you.

“Hey…. Hey there, hey,” he drawled.

“Sirius, what the hell are you doing here? And why  - why are you drunk?

He turned his face to you, which gave you a good whiff of his shotty breath. You turned your face away from him as you struggled to drag him back towards where you lived.

“It’s Christmas day, babe – It’s fuckin’ – Y/N? Y/N! Have a merry fuckin’ Christmas day!”

“Not quite,” you muttered, finally making it to the threshold of your apartment, “it’s the 23rd.”

“And a happy new year!”

You struggled to both support his weight, open the door, and keep your blanket wrapped around our chilled shoulders. When you finally managed it, you pulled Sirius in, who was busy laughing to himself to notice the opening of a safe abode. You pulled him up the narrow steps one by one and threw the open door of your flat, then pushed him inside.

He immediately tripped over your rug and fell forward onto his knees. You kicked off your slippers and moved forward to help him up, which is when the light hit his face.

You gasped.

“Who gave you that black eye?!”

He mumbled an indiscernible answer as he tried to shove you away, but you persisted in pushing him towards your couch and sitting him down. You turned to your kitchen (it really wasn’t that big of a flat) and grabbed your first aid kit from the cupboard.

“Sirius, what happened?” you demanded, as you pulled out some dittany and a small cotton pad. Sirius turned his bloodshot eyes to you, still giggling like mad.

“I hadta do it, Y/N, it was a matter of principal! Fundamentals! Pride! Honour! Capitalism!”


“Capitalism always comes back to bite everyone in the ass somehow or other,” he murmured, before hissing and trying to push you away when you pressed the dittany to the blooming cut on his brow bone. 

You held his chin in place as he feebly fought you, giving up rather pathetically and instead watching you clean him up, glassy eyes staring at you unwaveringly.

“Okay, you got drunk. Fine, we can put that aside. But did you have to get yourself into a situation like this?” you gestured his black eyes again as you began to wipe away smudges of dirt from his cheek. He must have been stumbling around for a while.

Sirius didn’t answer, instead continuing to regard you strangely.

“Sirius. Oi.”

He kept his stare a bit more before letting another giggle escape.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying? I keep getting lost in your eyes.”

You scoffed.

“I’m starting an idiot jar” you told him curtly, accepting that you wouldn’t be getting any answers from him in this lucid state, “any time you do or say anything idiotic, you have to put at least a two-pence in it—more depending on how stupid the thing that you said or did was.”

“Wouldn’t that” – he hiccupped – “wouldn’t that imply that I’m an idiot?”

“Bit more than imply, love.” You raised an eyebrow at him as you applied more dittany to a fresh pad.

Sirius shrugged sloppily, his broad shoulders falling so hard he could have pulled a muscle in his neck.

“I may be an idiot but I’m your idiot.”

“Is that so,” you muttered, lowering the pad from his face for a fraction of a second to observe his expression. He was still wearing a fatigued, dopey expression, but something about the dark circles under his eyes and the scruff of his budding beard left you to question what had led for him to let himself go this much. He got up to mischief once in a while, but never to this extent. He knew his limits, after all. 

This was completely beyond his limits.

You got up immediately, snapping yourself out of your thoughts as you turned to put the first aid back in its place and grab an old piece from a loaf of bread in the cupboard.

“Here,” you tossed it to him, “munch on that.”

You looked at him reproachfully, a look that even in such a compromised state, still threatened consequence to Sirius. He took a bite of it mournfully, oddly quiet as you turned to fetch him a glass of water as well.

You moved to sit back next to him, pulling the blanket around you as you offered him the glass. He accepted it and downed it in a single gulp, smacking his lips as he placed it hard on your wooden coffee table.

You continued to monitor him so that he would eat, when he finally spoke up again in an exceptionally hoarse voice.

“I don’t know how I ended up here,” he practically whispered. You stayed silent as he took another big bite of the bread, chewing comically.

“Well there are a lot of pubs around the corner, so I’m sure it was entirely out of convenience,” you assured him, patting his knee. Before you could pull away, he grabbed your had and raised it to his forehead, as if trying to get you to check his temperature.

“I’m sick,” he croaked, all giggles from bare seconds ago vanishing to reveal a much scarier Sirius. 

“You’re not sick, Sirius. You’re a bit pathetic, but you’re not sick,” you bit, trying to buy back the looser Sirius from moments ago.

Clearly, sobering him up a little with bread had soaked enough alcohol up to reveal why he might have gotten drunk in the first place, as Sirius just looked away and threw the chunk of bread left onto the table by the water.

“I’m sick,” he repeated, dropping your hand before snatching it up again just to hold. You cringed, suddenly feeling out of your depth.

“What are you sick with, then?” you humoured.

“Sick of.

“What are you sick of, Sirius?”

His eyes slid to your face slowly, his hair falling in strands around his face so that he looked a little deranged.

You would never forget the haunted expression on his face when he answered.


You shivered, then got up slowly, puling the blanket around your shoulders more tightly.

“You can stay tonight,” you told him firmly, trying to ignore his last words.

He was drunk, he was drunk, he was drunk.

His eyes seemed to vanish into sockets, his face looked paler, and he looked drawn of blood. He looked akin to someone who had spent years around Dementors, lost of all sanity.

He got up too, but immediately stumbled. He hit his shin on the edge of your table, so that you instinctually stepped forward to assist him. He grabbed your shoulder as he rubbed where he would surely be bruised by tomorrow. You were sure, however, that of all the things he would be feeling tomorrow, the bruise would be the least of his concerns.

“I’m so sick of feeling this fuckin’ way,” he complained, hopping on one foot as you struggled to keep him erect. You tried to lead him back to the couch, but he was persistent in trying to get you to listen.

“Everything is going to shit and we’re all going to die!” He lamented.

“Tell me something I don’t know, Black!” you spat through clenched teeth, trying to get him to lower his voice out of fear for neighbors.

“My brother,” he gasped, “he’s on the dark side. My mother kicked me out. My father is a shit bag. You-Know-Who is out to get us all –”

“Sirius –”

“I can’t care for you this much!” he started to yell, making you flinch when he shook you a little, “I won’t survive if I’m concerned more for your well being than my own all because I lo-!”

“Don’t!” you shrieked, covering his mouth with your hand, finally getting him to shut up with the crazy look in your eyes, which were welled up with sudden hot tears. The pressure on your arms loosened a little as you slackened the pressure on his mouth as well, both of you stopping in your tracks, etting each other go a little.

You swallowed.

“Don’t. Don’t say you love me.

“Why?” his muffled voice escaped the cracks in your fingers. You let your shoulders sag a little, then took a step backwards so that his hands fell completely to his sides.

You stepped backward until you hit the kitchen counter. You let a sigh escape as you put a hand to your forehead, feeling a migraine coming along, sick to the stomach.

“Because,” you snickered, dropping your hand to look back at him, “I’d rather it was heartfelt. Rather than drunken and… like a confession to a terrible crime against our natures.”

Ordinarily Sirius would have just snorted softly at your response. But this time, in all the stupor, he let a curt bark of laughter fall from his lips, before once again succumbing to ringing erratic giggles. 

You eventually joined in as you were humoured by his collapse into laughter, feeling delirious with a rush you hadn’t anticipated, and such an overwhelming guilt and sadness and grief that you couldn’t think of what else you should possibly do.

You both stood and did this for a while, the tears which escaped not entirely owing to the strain of laughing. Soon enough Sirius had fallen back onto the couch, as you struggled to breathe.

You eventually made eye contact again, laughs succumbing to a resounding silence, ringing with the sickening, unsaid confession. Him, drowning in the alcohol which filled him like an empty bottle. You, aching for everything to shut up and let you be. With him. Together in a steamy messy pile heaped together in your personal piece of forever.

If only you had cherished this moment before the world ripped itself apart completely, in an explosion leaving only one single finger.


Some Advice

If you guys are in class, whether it be college or high school. DO NOT go on tumblr and look at the women that make you smile like an idiot, your teacher can clearly tell and probably thinks your insane. Or if you have my professor they just look over your sholder and nod in approval. I speak from expeirence guys trust me.!!!!


Originally posted by beautifulmonotony

Imagine by: @fanficmarvelchick

Imagine: Getting arrested while on a hunt with Team Free Will

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Kid!Reader x Castiel x Sam x Dean (family), Platonic!Castiel x KId!Reader

Warnings: Language!

(Kid!Reader insert, gender unspecified)

Y/n/n——-your nickname

Your POV:
Fucking idiots. Fucking idiots. They leave me? Seriously? They’re like my freaking family! I’ve been with them since I was six freaking years old! I’m thirteen now! That’s seven years! Seven years of risking my life with these guys. Of living with these guys. Of loving these guys.

And what do I get? A pathetic, “Sorry, y/n/n,” from Dean as he and Sam transported away with Castiel.

Sure, they had sympathetic looks on their faces, but that’s all I got. Then they were gone.

I was captured by the cops. They brought me in to interrogate me. Usual routine, except the boys weren’t with me now. Those freaking–

I didn’t give up a thing. No matter how much I hated them, I still loved them. Dammit.

Soon enough I was in juvenile detention. Damn Team Free Will.

(Time skip to a few weeks later brought to you by 96,000 dollars)

Narrator POV:
You didn’t talk to anyone in juvenile detention. In fact, you hadn’t said a work since you were brought in by the police.

At the moment, you were sitting on the side of your bed, looking down at your hands. You had so many hateful words running through your head. So many. You were so mad at the boys. You did, as you said, think they were your family. You had lost hope.

You heard a flutter of wings.

You looked up.


He was standing there. Right in front of you. Now was your chance. Your chance to finally speak the hateful words on your mind. To speak the words that have been boiling and festering inside you for weeks.

As soon as you looked up, you spoke.

Castiel!” It came up as a desperate cry. You leapt across the room, crushing Castiel in the tightest embrace you could muster.

You were crying. Castiel came back for you. He still loved you. Everything was going to be okay.

“Wh-why did you leave me?” You managed to get through the sobs.

Castiel was hugging you tight as well. “We knew you would follow us,” he simply replied in his gruff voice.

“Follow you where?” You hadn’t moved.

Castiel explained, “Sam, Dean, and I had to fight Crowley. We knew no matter what we told you, you would follow us. Crowley knows how much we care about you. He would’ve used you against us. We needed to put you in a place you couldn’t follow us from. Dean was the one who came up with breaking and entering the armory.”

You laughed.

“Are you mad at us?” Castiel asked timidly.

You pulled back to looked at him, “How could I ever be mad at you?”

Author’s Note:
Thank you for reading this! Fill up that heart if you liked it. Over on my page I have other fanfictions about Supernatural, along with fanfictions about other fandoms. Also, feel free to request anything. If I’m a part of the fandom, and the request involves no smut, there’s a great chance I will write it. Have a wonderful day/night, and I love you.

**The credits for Supernatural, along with the characters Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Crowley go to the creators of Supernatural and the CW**

anonymous asked:

Everytime I come here and see that you posted new writing prompts, I swear, I just smile like an idiot! Your prompts are the best and I love every single one of them! Keep going! You rock!

Awwwwww thank you ❤️❤️❤️

who expects me to know everything abotu their personal life you could have literally clarified that somewhere also you id outside your race idiot @fujinyumiz

jeonjuns  asked:

Quiet reconnection, yd&r, 31 ( yay finally more QR! Thank youuu<3)

“I may be an idiot but I’m your idiot.”

He doesn’t know why that makes him smile, but it does. She lays on their bed, stares at the ceiling, and does not look the least bit sorry at the drama she’s caused in the last three hours. His Rachel is back and he couldn’t be more thrilled.

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Rachel sighs and rolls over onto her side. She tugs on his shirt and encourages him closer. After her outburst, he doesn’t feel the need to withhold from her. “One of the things I’ve always loved about you is your blind fidelity. When you love a woman, you are completely focused on her. I know that’s why you never made love to Eun-Sang. I didn’t believe you at first but I do now. You have no sense when other women want you. I’m better now, I can remember that, when I couldn’t before. I know you didn’t know what your mother was trying to do. Are you upset that I yelled at her?”

“No.” He pulls her closer and breathes her in deeply. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see what she was doing with Yoon Se-Na. I honestly thought she was just my mother’s assistant and helped out with the kids because they were too much for her.”

“She did it out of love for you. But I am done tolerating her hate of me. I am done. Until she apologizes to me, she can’t see the children. I won’t ask you to repudiate her. I never wanted to come between you. My mother wasn’t welcoming of you either.” Rachel presses her lips against his throat and he immediately hardens for her. “But she tried to take them away from me. I can’t forgive that.”

Young-Do swallows as he gently rolls her onto her back. There is no resistance in her. Things aren’t like they were Before, but he isn’t afraid to reach for her right now. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.” He doesn’t say that he’s glad she isn’t trying to give them away anymore. When she tells him she doesn’t remember much from that time, he is relieved, because he never wants her to ever consider it again.

Rachel smiles up at him as he bends down to kiss her. “I love you, Choi Young-Do. Am I allowed to say it now?” It is a little sad and tentative. So he kisses her before pulling her on top of him.

“I love you,” he says back. “We need to lock the door.”