also if anyone wants a wall paper for these go ahead and ask

its-the-tenerife-sea  asked:

Hello! I have an idea for the ficlet (feel better btw!). Okay: HS AU with popular!Dean and popular!Cas, they're those two annoying guys who make funny (but also obnoxious) comments in every single class, and make stupid, flirtatious remarks to each other like "Cas looks pretty hot today guys" or "I'm totally dating Dean, everyone" etc. Only thing is, they're secretly in love, but neither will admit it. I've had this idea for a while and I'd LOVE for a talented author to execute it.

Aaaahhh it’s been too long since I’ve done a High School AU and I’ve missed it. Thanks for this one and thanks so much for asking me to fufill the prompt! I hope I do it justice :)


“Please take your seats quickly. I want to discuss your quiz scores so we can go over any questions you may have before the final test.” Ms. Mills said with a stack of papers clutched against her chest.

Dean stretched his arms above his head as he flopped into his usual seat on the third row, next to the wall so he could lean up against it in times of extreme laziness. He sprawled out accordingly, dropping his backpack to the floor and draping his letterman jacket over his seat until the air conditioning kicked in during the middle of class like it usually did.

“Hey, hot stuff.” Dean said with a nod as Castiel sat down in the seat next to him.

“Good morning, Dean.” Castiel said, barely looking up as he aligned his binder and world history book neatly on the small desk in front of him.

“How was that student council thingy yesterday?” Dean asked, popping a piece of gum into his mouth.

“Absolutely dreary without your shining personality to brighten all of our days,” Castiel murmured, completely straight-faced.

Dean winked as Ms. Mills began talking again.

“Some of you need to look at your notes from the beginning of the year again,” she said as she began passing back the quizzes. “And some of you need to remember that - if you want full credit on the final test - the answer to ‘What are the seven wonders of the ancient world’ is not ‘Castiel Novak’s Ass’ written seven times.”

She frowned when she got to Dean’s desk, dropping the paper on his desk as the rest of the class laughed.

Dean clicked his tongue and made a finger gun at Castiel with another wink.

“Really, Dean? Don’t be childish.” Castiel said, just loud enough for everyone to hear. “We all know that’s not true. I haven’t done any squats in at least a month.”

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anonymous asked:


*swirling a glass of shitfic* *sniffs* oh, parkour?

sheith parkour au part 4: shiro throws matt under the bus lol

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

Dear Katie,

I forgive you. I’m leaving you all my worldly possessions. This is my last letter.

“Look, don’t take this wrong, but I don’t think this back flip thing is going to work out.”

Keith shoots him one of those looks that means, I’ve heard what you said and I know you’re right, but I’m going to keep throwing myself at this wall until I break or it does.

It’s been three days of this. Three days of Keith trying and failing to do a back flip, because it turns out Montgomery was serious and he actually does want to bring Keith in to test him. Three days of Matt avoiding Shiro, again, because the first day Post Rosegate steeled something in him. Instead of moping in their room, Shiro has been stalking around the Garrison like he’ll be able to smell the parkour affinity and missing $200 on someone.

He can never find out that it was technically Matt. There’s a whole list of things he can’t find out, and this is near the top, after the bike and the flowers and the soft sound Keith makes when he collides with something harder than him.

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Second Chance - Part Four

I will never be able to get over the responses I’ve been getting to this story. If I could, I would hug all of you for your comments, your messages, all of it. I’ve decided I’m gonna try to make Sundays update days, so I have enough time to work on each next chunk the way I really want to, and then so @sannvers has enough time to proofread them. Thank you for your patience, and I hope you like chunk four! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

Title: Second Chance

Pairing: Eventual Gaston x Fem!Reader

Rating: T

Words: 6,405

Summary: You try to stop Gaston from shooting the Beast and falling to his death, but you arrive too late to save him. As you sit there, sobbing, the Enchantress overs you a second chance to save him.

Tagging: @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli @hobbithorse19 @leah5684 @princessbelgoof @captainskyline @theoncergames @geeky-girl-394 @were-allstoriesinthe-end084 @brooke-supernatural16 @certainasthesvn @jordyhaley @superlokidwholock @smilesnjh @prongspower @bitchingqueenoferebor @scarletdarkholme @hemmingbaes @bae-kage @areuslow @lovelylpevensie @uknwwhttheysayboutthecrzy1s @moonbeams-and-pie @17gnomes-in-a-trenchcoat @superwholockedrosx @panda-reads-stuff @ultimatetrashlord @elenawrit @the7thsilence @blackxthexbeast @rainwing-galaxy

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anonymous asked:

hey! so, i am finding it so hard to do lower intermediate translation for japanese. i practice so much, and while i see improvement, , when i come across very long sentences with a lot of verbs and need for nomanlisers and modifying noun related things, i always freak out and do so badly. just yesterday i did so poorly on my translation exam because i just become so lost and confused under pressure and with a time limit. do you have advice on how to practice translation? any material out there?

Hi Anon!

Firstly, wowza… I commend you on battling through exams and time constraints because that’s always super tough! 

Secondly, as someone who studies casually and without time constraints, I have the luxury of taking this business at my own pace as well as the freedom to laugh in the face of my own blatant inadequacy. I imagine that with your studies, there might be a more pressing need to see results. My lax study habits may not mesh with the criteria you have. I apologise if any of this fails to meet your needs and can put you on to smarter folk if you like (Just flick me a message any time)

H’okay! Wall of text ahead… (・・;)ゞ 

Material for practising translation? Literally anything written in Japanese.

That’s right. Read, read, read. Reading explodes your grasp of vocabulary and grammar. Having a parallel text in english is especially helpful for those of us who can get the gist easy enough, but sometimes stumble with precision. Finding reading material is one google search away, but here are a few for good measure:

I’ve linked you to Tofugu’s reviews on both books as I feel they are quite accurate. I own both books and am getting through them slowly with much enjoyment. The Short Stories volume is particularly good, in that it often shows furigana for a kanji the first time you encounter it, then promptly drops it thereafter, requiring you to fire up those recall engines. Not recognising a particular kanji at all means scouring the parallel english text like a regular Sherlock Holmes for its english meaning. Definitely be prepared to use your dictionary and jot new info down on paper. It’s slow going, but fun (especially for sleuths and those who get a kick out of linguistic dread)

How to practise sentence translation?

You mentioned practising a lot, but find that the sentence length, frequency or odd placement of verbs and the occurrence of “nominalisers” like こと and の get you sweatin’ (saaaaame)

My advice probably outlines things you already know, and is perhaps better thought of as “sentence understanding” rather than translating, but it may have some merit:

  • Make long sentences into several smaller ones. 

When confronted with a Japanese sentence, I ask myself two things - Do I know these words yet? (vocabulary) and - Do I understand how the words are interacting with each other? (grammar) Generally the answer to these questions depend on my exposure to both aspects - e.g. over the past several months, how often have I needed to recall this kanji? How often have I seen or heard this sort of grammar pattern?

If my answer is “Oh yeah! Some of these words seem familiar! Also, I have a reasonable understanding of how particles link things together” then I should also be able to break any sentence into manageable chunks and come away with the gist, if not more - especially if I use the aid of a dictionary.

I define a “chunk” as being a word+particle combo, or anywhere a pause seems it could naturally follow - e.g それ 公園東の方… To me, this always feels like a little break in which to get my bearings and question what information might come next. 公園.. Yes, I’m listening… “at the park” what?

  • See mid-sentence informal verbs as a little flag which marks a relative or descriptive clause.

A relative or “adjectival” clause is just a mini sentence or one bigger chunk which describes the chunk that follows it. Sentence-ception (⌐■_■)

ぎんさんは [ お菓子を 食べるのが ] 大好きな人 ですね

As for Gin-san, he is a person who loves [ eating sweets ] isn’t he?

See that there? That leads into my next point.

  • Treat nominalisers as a switch for the verb it’s attached to.

A verb+こと/の combo is a chunk that requires some thought before you can add it to what comes next. Because こと is a word meaning “abstract thing” - tagging it to a verb switches the verb from being an action to being the experience or concept of performing an action. In fact, as in the example sentence, it can switch an entire relative clause ending in a verb into one!

Consider the verb “walk”  歩く …On it’s own, it means X walks. It is an action that someone performs. However, if we want to talk about the “thing” we call walking, we need to use こと. の does the same thing to a verb, but carries a sort of personal or intimate nuance. Often used for verbs that are directly sensed or experienced. 

So, Gin-san is a person who loves what? Eating sweets.

Originally posted by zechs

That’s about as simple as it goes for me, I’m afraid. If anyone reading would like to add their advice - especially those who are studying formally and dealing with the same pressures, by all means do!


okay so. as someone who runs one of the very, very few ocpd-centric blogs on tumblr (not this one, i mean @thatocpdfeel ), its actually so upsetting how little people know abt ocpd, even here on tumblr amongst other mental health bloggers. not to say anything bad abt those bloggers!!! its just not spoken abt much. maybe thats because its not as common as, like, bpd or avpd, but its also because SO many ocpd symptoms are ENCOURAGED by society. i get so many tags on my posts saying “thats an ocpd thing???” or “thats not normal???” or “im not supposed to do that???” like so much of what is killing us from the inside are things parents, teachers, and guardians all think are positive attributes to have, but we internalize those things in such a twisted and intense way that we suffer and yet are idealized for our suffering.
ive had so many people with other illnesses, like depression, tell me how ocpd has its upsides because i can be productive and get stuff done when they cant even get out of bed. thats not how it works.
ocpd is not being perfect.
ocpd is NEEDING to be perfect because even the tiniest mistake means you are the scum of the earth and deserve to die.
ocpd is not double checking your work to make sure you got everyting right because you want a good score.
ocpd is perfecting the wording of a single sentence because if it doesnt imply the exact thought you are trying to get across then it means you have failed and even if it is still technically right and no points are taken off, inside you know that it was wrong and it COULD have been better and your personal standards are ten times higher than the official standards because you know that the goals you need to reach to be successful are leaps and bounds above what the average person needs, not because you are better than them but because you must strive to become better than them at all cost because second best is still a loser.
ocpd is not orangizing your work station before starting a new project.
ocpd is crying and screaming while you trash 42 different versions of the same attempted project and shoving everything off your desk and wanting to pull out your hair or bang your head on a wall because you messed it up so many times already and if you dont get it right this time you will never get it and you will be marked as a failure for the rest of your life, unable to accomplish literally anything and youre so terrified of that thought you take six hours to scrub at your desk and mop the floor and take a razor to that bit of wax thats been stuck on the leg of your chair for a week and half and meticulously organize everything into boxes, counting every ration you put in to make sure they all even out, and listing everything thats there and labeling the boxes then straight up leaving the work area and not thinking about the project for another month.
ocpd is not having a folder of all your important documents because you know you will need them some time.
ocpd is having six folders, each containing vastly different documents, some of which are important, some of which are just old receipts to mcdonalds, some are keepsakes from friends, some of which are just a scap of paper with scribbles that you dont remember what they mean but maybe one day you will, and the rest are just any paper youve ever come across in your life. theyre all just as important as everything else though because the thought of prioritising them is nearly incomprehensible because they are all important and you need them all for equally important things so when you need, like, that paper for your auto insurance you first must sift through six hundred pages of notes your friends passed back and forth in middle school over five years ago and you dont even talk to them anymore but you absolutely cannot get rid of them. its all so important.
ocpd is not being productive.
ocpd is waking up and remembering that you are an inherently flawed and imperfect being, but also that your worth in this world is defined by what you put into it, so even if you cant be perfect, if you make enough perfect stuff or do enough stuff perfectly, it will all give the illusion to others as well as yourself that you are perfect. so you push yourself to do whatever it is you do. regardless of your other illnesses, you work and and try to be as productive as you possibly can because thats your only chance. you go into work sick. you push yourself past your limits, past what you know you are physically/mentally able to do, and you suffer for breaching those limits but all that pain is WORTH it because you are temporarily overcome with a sense of accomplishement and SOMEONE is finally proud of you. you did something right FOR ONCE. so even if you go completely nonverbal, or lay in bed for the next week in pain, or end up in the ER, or seventeen other things didnt get done, there was the most brief sense of absolute euphoria even if its almost immidiately replaced by a sense of overwhelming anxiety about what you messed up, forgot, did wrong, or ignored to achieve that feeling and the cycle of fixing, fixing, fixing repeats itself.
ocpd is not being bossy, egotistical, or controlling.
ocpd is a deeply psychological understanding that even the most insignificant mistake will reflect back on you in the most exaggerated and horrendous way possible. its knowing that if you ask your friend to go get you a red pen, but they bring you a blue one, and you dont know they got blue instead, so if you write even the smallest mark in that blue ink, even if its technically okay to write in red or blue, you specified red, so the fact that its blue makes it wrong and unnacceptable so in your mind its better to drop what your doing and get the correct red pen yourself even if its right beside your friend and you are already focusing on something else. the concept of asking others to do something, not even something in a manner of helping you but just to divide up jobs evenly, its absolutely impossible. because if they do something wrong, it will reflect on you, then you did something wrong and we both know that doing something wrong is completely out of the question. you would rather multitask four things at once, but the sight of someone else just twiddling their thumbs while you bust your ass is so infuriating! why cant they do what you are doing? why cant they just read your mind and know exactly what you need, when you need it, and be helpful? thats what you would do if they were in your situation! if they were working like you, you would hand them everything. you would also probably go ahead and just put that back for them. well, you could also handle that too. and before you know it, their job is your job and there they are twiddling their thumbs and looking at you for a job to do. its the phrase “if you want something done right, do it yourself” taken to a whole other level.
ocpd is so much more than what people think. were more than just a “type a personality” or “perfectionists” and its not just “mild ocd” either. ocpd is painful. please remember that.

Lionhearted - part 3 - nessian fic

Summary: Nesta and Cassian go on their first date and try to figure out how they work when they aren’t expected to bicker all the time. Nesta has a candid conversation with Feyre about their mother. Later, as Nesta and Cassian are beginning to find a rhythm as a couple, an emergency interrupts their progress.

Notes: This is… going to be 5 parts now. Just an FYI. I don’t know how this happened. Thanks this time to @acourtofstarsanddreams for helping me figure out jobs and apartments, and @illyriantremors for helping me make their first date more awkward :D

Part one : Part two : Part three : Part four : AO3 for comments : this chapter rated T : tw brief mention of Feyre’s abuse


When Nesta made this date, she wasn’t thinking clearly.

She considered canceling, considered calling and just saying that it was a mistake, no hard feelings, that she wasn’t ready to go out with anyone.

Instead, when she called Cassian the next day, she reminded him that she lived outside the city and that he would likely need to leave early to make it to her place on time. She still had that nagging question in the back of her mind and had considered backing out then. But the smooth, confident tone in his voice had done something to her doubts, and by the time Nesta had shoved her phone back into her pocket, they had decided on a restaurant and a time and he knew her address.

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Bob Morley Imagine: My Bellamy

Requested by @jazminblake (I know it’s a little late but happy birthday 🎉😘)

Summary: Reader witnessed something terrible during her visit at home. Now she tells Bob about it and breaks down because no one loves her. But Bob tells her otherwise.

Inspired by a song: Never gonna leave you by US the duo

Word Count: 1326

Originally posted by bellamyblake-imagine

The sound of my doorbell buzzing trough my appartement filled my ears pulling me back to the reality. 

Pushing away the thoughts of an incident that had happened during my visit to my home, I hesitantly stood up from my comfortable spot on the couch and made my way to the door.

I had no idea who it could be and I wasn’t happy at all that someone disturbed my peaceful moment of feeling miserable.

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Long Live - Chapter 11

5 chapters to go! Writing this has gone by so fast! Thank you two @mylasagnaisraw and @gaysonofjafar for editing this chapter. Like always, you’re both stunning with your work. 

Pairing: Prinxiety, Logicality

Words: 1856

Tag List: @eternal-sanders @eternalsavvyskies @generalofthefangirlarmy@ireblogstuff-andineedalife @isnt-that-wizard @de-is-me @fander-berb @deadprinxietywalking @datonerougecookeh  @aaliyahadams1738 @hetaliagurl5 @ilovemyspoopydad @ai-logical @thegreatdot @protecterofalltheaus @fandomsandanythingelse @cutie5780 @bleebtheweeb @justanotherpurplebutterfly @wizxrdscorbus @imnotcrazy-i-swaer @thekwhale @worthless-dude @averaillisa @soulydyingalone @alright-cupid @gaysonofjafar @breckein-blog @kuwata-kun @waste-disposal-unit @swiggtyswag19 @lostgirlgwen @squashymoon-wink  @fandomsandnonsense7 @cutecatwhiskers @sandersandthesides @ssimplypatton @mewsicalmiss @musicphanpie-b @wrendoesstuff @breeziegem @alyrie @novagalaxy4real @prompty-writer @jordisama @broadwaytheanimatedseries @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @lizziepopanime @satisfied-sanders-sides @piko-blaster @save-the-spiral @dusk-lunari @heartsthetics @la-fandom-freak @irrelevantbutfabulous @cochroachkappa-blog @thestoryoferissur @abstractedthinking @kasylikescookies @awesomelissawho @demonickittykat @not-lonely-but-alone @moonibinbon @everlalvenia @casmyth @r4v3npuff @hanramz-the-fander @pointless-blog-name @mazalittlesadist  @queer-ax @wentzdays @kitsuneprideleader @just-a-living-mistake @abbyaj22 @thebaagelboy @the-baddest-bitch-in-slytherin @pete–the–emu @walrus-fail @imteamdanosaur @just-fic-me-up @softbludemon @notquitewitches @somedobbyoncetoldme @kasylikescookies @awkwardeko6 @choco-latte-timtams @mpdgmustdie @thefamouszombiebouquet @idk-and-idc-and-idr @sarcasticshysociopath @balloonllester @twinkly-lights @xcean-eyez @jdcupcake040904

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Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  Chapter 10  Chapter 12

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Time for a story - If I didn’t have you

Originally posted by feilcityqueen

Felicity closed the door behind herself as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake up the kids. The house seemed to be dark apart from the light that came from the living room and she smiled quietly at the thought that she wasn’t alone or the only one awake. She dropped her keys in the bowl on the small table next to the door, put her purse to the topmost shelf of the wardrobe and her high heels to the bottommost step of the stairs, so she would remember taking them upstairs when she went to bed.

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The Princess & The Swan | Na Yeon + Mo Mo (TWICE)

The Princess & The Swan | Na Yeon + Mo Mo (TWICE)

Word count: 3.2k
Genre: smut + high school!au
Warnings: public sex, threesome, dom/sub themes
A/N: wtf is this ??¿?

The twittering of voices that should sound like the sweet symphony of early morning birds has turned into the white noise of swarming mosquitoes after hours on end of suffering through it. Each voice, though different in sound, has the same message to relay like a flock of mindless parrots. The names printed on the lags pinned to their lapels may suggests that the members of your classroom are individuals in their own right, but the almost puppy-like loyalty they display towards one particular student shows it’s not true. Mo Mo Hirai sits in the desk directly behind yours soaking in all the praise as though she’s a newly anointed queen, and with how much attention the entirety of the school–faculty included–is showing her, she might as well be.

It’s no secret that Mo Mo is a good dancer. Better than good, she’s the best dancer at your high school and was chosen to represent the school’s dance club in a recent competition. The school had been taken aback at the prospect of competing in any type of competition after years of being just below the cut off for qualifications. Even the prestigious math league that was the school’s pride and joy never saw the light of day when it came to selections for seminars abroad that would most likely be taught by professors even the most dignified of teachers sought after for attention. Yes, on the outside Jang Sang seemed like the perfect high school that was striving towards greatness one year at a time, but on the inside it was just as corrupt and self-absorbed as they accused lower ranking schools of being.

Mo Mo was no different. In fact, she was more akin to the lower schools than anyone else seeing as she was brought into Jang Sang on a dancer’s scholarship. This was information privy to only the smallest amount of people inside the school and it wasn’t hard to see why. While everyone that gravitated towards Mo Mo like a moth to a flame wore the same uniform as she did–the females did, at least–Mo Mo hadn’t paid a penny out of her pocket for it. It showed in the designer bags and fancy makeup that was branded in some foreign language that most girls clung to like a lifeline. You have never once seen Mo Mo with anything other than her generic brand bookbag, but you can figure where all her families funds went. Not only did she dance, but her older sister did, too. So while all the other girls seemed to find no fault in dropping their entire allowance on a new makeup palette Mo Mo put her extra cash into her dance.

The newest addition to her equipment was the simple pair of black ballet shoes that you could see just poking out from her bag. The ribbons looked to be made of something luxurious; probably silk. Whatever it was couldn’t come cheap. It makes you wonder why Mo Mo let these careless kids inflate her ego as much as they do. All their dark eyes looked like blank abysses that search for nothing other than another stack of money.

Mo Mo was a lucky one. When she graduates she’ll have her whole life ahead of her. Any performing arts college would be foolish to turn down an application from such a promising woman. With the way she’s going it could be a free ride for her on another scholarship. Yeah, she’d be doing just fine. But the rest of these brainless zombies that have become so preoccupied with anything and everything superficial, they’ll be lost once our graduation ceremony is over. A select few could get by on their parents’ plethora money, but the rest who don’t have the grades to make it will probably get stuck serving drinks at the elegant places Mo Mo will surely be performing one day.

You realizes for as much as you ridicule the rest of them anyone could say the same things about you and not be wrong. Of course, you’re a good student; good enough to make it into some pretty elite schools, but money is on your mind as much as the next person. While Mo Mo probably dreamed in elaborate dance routines, you dreamed in a more domestic setting. From a young age you realized two things; one: you wanted to be a mother, two: you didn’t want to be away from your children. That in itself meant two things; marry early and hopefully marry rich. No one could raise a child on their own if they stayed home all day. It took you a few years after to release your hold on the stay-at-home mom dream. Money doesn’t grow on trees and so neither do rich people willing to marry you. You’d decided at the ripe age of thirteen to not let money rule you, yet here you are going back on your word. And to add salt to the wound, you happen to be dating the richest girl in school: Im Na Yeon.

She didn’t take issue with working hard seeing as she’s the student body president, but she also had a strict rule about people taking handouts. “If you’re not going to work hard with help then you don’t need it to begin with,” was her saying and she took it quite literally. You’d asked her about the whole stay-at-home mom situation and she’d loving told you that raising a child was the hardest, most demanding job in the world and she’d be lucky to help you in any way possible. As for Mo Mo, she wasn’t as forgiving. Na Yeon wasn’t a particularly hateful person–quite honestly she only hated enough people to count on her hands–but Mo Mo just got under her skin. She knew about her scholarship and was fine with it. The girl would dance her heart out to stay in this school, but what she wouldn’t do was pass her classes if they weren’t PE. This Na Yeon also knew about and it made her absolutely livid. To the point where she avoided Mo Mo like the plague and insisted it was for the dancer’s safety. You’d never seen Na Yeon fight or really hit anything, but you knew a thing or two about your girlfriend’s strength from a few heated encounters.

As you shake your head to disburse any perverted thoughts that could get you in trouble due to your current setting (and length of your skirt) the final bell rings. There’s no idle pretense on a Friday afternoon. Everyone immediately bolts to be free of their scholarly duties like bats out of hell. From your seat next to the third story window you can watch everyone skip happily down the front stairs in all their separate groups and separating into cars, vans, or walking. You get up to follow them, but your foot catches on a slick part of the tiles and flies out from under you. You land on your elbows with a slight groan, glaring at whatever almost handicapped you. Instead of it being a stray paper or lost pencil two pretty black ballet shoes sit a few inches from your feet. On of the ribbons it dyed grey with a mark that matches that of your shoe.

You quickly scramble to grab it and rub the mark of off the fabric. These shoes definitely cost more than what you hand in your wallet and Na Yeon would rather go toe to toe with Mo Mo after hearing how you came into possession of the girl’s shoes. Luckily, the dust mark swipes off on the hem of your skirt without much issue and the lace looks good as new once it’s gone. Once your back on your feet you check out the window. The last stragglers that aren’t staying after for clubs are on their way out and Mo Mo isn’t amongst them. She must be in the dance studio. You cradle her shoes close to your chest like a newborn as you walk through the maze of hallways on your way to the studio. You pass the student council room on the way there but think little of it. Na Yeon is always busy doing something in there and you don’t want to disturb her just to say hello. Instead you continue on your way, humming as you go.

Soon your soft singing is overlapped by a more prominent voice that’s being churned out of loud speakers. The light slipping from under the door in the otherwise unlit dance hallway is the only reason you keep walking. Usually this wing is alive with loud music and shouted command with numbers being shouted off to the beat. Now it’s much more calm as only one studio is being occupied. You stand on your tiptoes to see into the room and can barely glimpse the top of Mo Mo’s head as she sits on the floor facing the wall of mirrors. Quietly, you open the door and step inside. The singer you’d thought you were hearing through the speakers is actually seated on the floor with her head on her knees as she stretches, leisurely singing along to the instrumental. Of course, there’s no singer. Mo Mo was known to dance almost exclusively to music without voices.

As if reading your thoughts, said girl raises her head to look at you through the mirror. You clutch her shoes tighter to your chest and wait for her to accuses you of being a sneaky pervert for watching her stretch. She doesn’t. Rather than scolding you she smirks at you in the glass. It’s a smooth, knowing smirk that makes your stomach drop.

“You left your shoes!” You say as quickly as possible. You shove said items out in front of you as you bend in a perfect 90 degree angle bow. Mo Mo chuckles darkly causing you to peek up at her through your lashes. Now she’s facing you on her knees, waving you forward with a curl of her finger. Your body jolts towards her like you’ve been electrocuted. You realize belatedly that you’ve never been alone with Mo Mo before and are completely unprepared for how intense she is on her own. Once you reach her she takes the shoes from you and tossed them over to the rest of her things. You almost want to berate her for the harsh treatment, but dancing shoes are made to be battered, you suppose. Mo Mo doesn’t seemed worried either was as she rises to her full height with enough grace to stop your breath inside your lungs.

Even though she’s only a few inches taller than you she somehow seems to stare down at you as if you’re an ant. Maybe it’s the heated look in her dark eyes or the close proximity, but whatever is it seems to be working to shut down your brain and you need to get away from her before you do something you’ll regret. As of now you can’t tell if it will be painful or pleasurable. Though you have your answer as soon as her lips descend upon yours. Your arm easily snaps up on its own, fully intending to strike Mo Mo across the face, but the loud crash of the door slamming into the wall has the two of you jumping apart in fright before you can do so.

Na Yeon stands in the doorway wearing a less than pleased look on her pretty face. She’s angry; but you can’t tell if it’s at you or Mo Mo. Hopefully the latter seeing as you didn’t actively participate in her sneak attack on your lips.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Na Yeon’s voice is deathly calm as she speaks each word with purpose. “You won the competition and now everyone loves you, so you think you run the school now? That everyone will fall at your feet and do whatever you want?” Na Yeon steps closer with each word until she’s at your side, just a foot separating her from the girl she hates most.

“How do you know she didn’t come to me on her own? Ever think of that, Miss Know-It-All?” It’s a cheap shot, a five year old could probably concoct a better comeback, but with the way her face is turning a bright red you’re sure Mo Mo is too angry and embarrassed to care what she sounds like.

“I watched her. She did come to you. But it was you who came onto her. I can’t let that go unpunished.” You’ve heard this voice before. It’s the tone that promises a sore ass after she’s spanked some sense into you. Heat gathers between your legs at the thought of watching Mo Mo get knocked down a few pegs by your ever-dominant girlfriend. The blonde would never step out of line again. Na Yeon reaches across the space between them and hauls Mo Mo forward by her tiny waist.

“You were stretching, right?” A small nod of confirmation, “Well, don’t let [Name] stop you.” Na Yeon easily flips Mo Mo until her ass is pressed into her hips, then drags a hand up her back to lower her head to between her knees. Na Yeon carelessly kicks at Mo Mo’s ankles until they’re a desirable distance apart.

“[Name], since you seemed so eager to return Mo Mo her shoes without any supervision why don’t you show her how eager you can really be?” There’s a pushing pressure on your shoulder until you’re seated between Mo Mo’s spread legs. “Go on, princess, you know what to do.” Na Yeon encourages you without a hint of remorse. You tug at Mo Mo’s spandex shorts, causing her to break her stance to kick them off. Na Yeon gives a quick reproach of her palm to Mo Mo’s tight ass, kicking her feet back into position. You continue where you left off, eager to please Na Yeon by pleasing Mo Mo and push her pretty lace panties to the side with your thumb.

Her lips are already glistening with arousal and you lick her clean before spreading her open with your fingers. Mo Mo moans as you do, earning another smack on her ass from Na Yeon.

“Shut up,” She grunts, digging her fingers into her waist to pull her back into her hips. “This is a punishment.” Mo Mo’s seals her lips and pinches her eyes shut before you return back to her awaiting pussy. More of her delicious juices have leaked out and you take your time gathering them on your tongue, flicking across her clit as you pull away. Her teeth dig into those perfectly pink lips that were against yours just minutes ago, trying to stay quiet. You continue to suck at her throbbing bud, occasionally enjoying the never-ending stream of slick she keeps giving you. It’s not until her thighs twitch around your head that you pull away to look at their faces again. You can feel Mo Mo’s juices painting across your cheeks, your nose, your chin, your lips, but you can’t find it in you to care. Not when Na Yeon has hiked up the trembling blonde’s shirt and sports bra to play with her pretty nipples. They’re hard and pretty between your girlfriend’s fingers and you crane your neck to lick at one of them. Mo Mo trembles as if the room is being wracked by an earthquake and drops to one knee. From the height her warm, wet pussy is just breaths away from your eager lips and you quickly grab her hips before she can stand again.

Na Yeon seems to get an idea from the new position and kicks out Mo Mo’s other leg so she’s fully seated on your jaw. What you hadn’t expected was the feeling of your legs being forced apart and panties being yanked off and tossed haphazardly across the studio. Immediately, Na Yeon’s fingers are lost in your heat and you moan into Mo Mo’s folds. She ruts her hips towards the vibrations and grabs hold of your hair, rocking her needy pussy against your tongue. You get lost in the sensations of eating one of the prettiest pussies you’ve ever seen and having your girlfriend’s fingers work magic between your legs. A particularly loud scream is muffled against Mo Mo as Na Yeon curls her fingers against your g-spot. Your legs shake in time with Mo Mo’s as your orgasms approach. Na Yeon suddenly pulls away her fingers causing you to pull away from Mo Mo to voice your complaints. Instead of listening Na Yeon yanks Mo Mo back into the cradle of her legs, tugs off her panties, and grabs the backs of her thighs. With no thoughts given towards Mo Mo’s flexibility, Na Yeon yanks the blonde’s legs back so Mo Mo’s feet rest on her shoulders. You swallow at the sight of Mo Mo being so spread out before you, still dripping with arousal.

“Come sit on your throne, princess.” Na Yeon says pointedly. You waste no time crawling over Mo Mo and sitting down so your lower lips kiss. You both toss your heads back, strained noises of pleasure leaving your lips. Na Yeon coos at the two of you as she watches you fuck the person she hates most. Mo Mo desperately wraps her arms around you, crushing your chest to hers. You can feel the heat of her sweat doused skin and the frantic beat of her heart as you grind your pussy against hers. A small chant of your name starts to leave her lips until her back arches awkwardly off of Na Yeon’s lap and she comes hard with a shout. Though you’re still unfulfilled you sit back, allowing Mo Mo to unfold her straining muscles. The blonde falls bonelessly off of Na Yeon’s lap. Said girl taken the opportunity to replace Mo Mo’s absence with you. She easily tugs you up so your legs are spread outside of hers before prodding her slender fingers at your opening. Two easily glide in with no resistance. You’re so wet and strung out from feeling Mo Mo’s pussy against yours that you near your high within seconds. Na Yeon adds her thumb to the equation, rubbing rough figure eights across the aching bud until you seize up in her arms, come dripping over her hand and onto her skirt.

By now Mo Mo has recovered from her own orgasm and gently maneuvers you to sit across her face. She plays with your over sensitive sex, flicking at your clit and swirling her fingers through your arousal until you come again; this time on her face. Mo Mo immediately attaches her lips to your lower lips to drink in everything you have to give her. The feeling is bordering on painful as she sucks hard at your pearl until you have to reach to Na Yeon for help. Your girlfriend is wearing a devious smirk on her face as she backs away from your reaching hands.

“Mo Mo, you did so well during your punishment,” She praises, pushing the blonde’s sweating bangs off her forehead, “How would you like [Name] as a reward? I quite enjoyed seeing the two of you together. It made me forget how much I hate you.” Mo Mo either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care about the last bit as she moans her approval into your pussy. Na Yeon smiles earnestly at the two of you.

“My princess and my black swan.”
Love gives your enemies a perfect target

 PART 2 


Paul x imprint!reader

Warnings: Swearing, kidnapping, torture 

Request: “can u write a paul imagine where he imprints on the reader but doesn’t tell her but since it’s so obvious, some vampires kidnap and torture her to get back at him and he saves her and it’s super angsty and paul being a mess and a fluffy end? thanks!”

-There will be a part 3 i got a bit carried away in this part, and writing torture is harder than i thought i wasn’t creative enough hahah but there will probably be more in the next part, hope you enjoy<3

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Secret - Part 1

This one is Bruce x Reader for the lovely @firebirdsalvatore

It is part one, I don’t really know how many parts I’m going to write. If anyone has any ideas for part 2 send me a message!

Prompt - “I don’t want to be your secret anymore,”


To the public you and Bruce Wayne were nothing but childhood friends. To the public Bruce Wayne was a billionaire playboy, not someone who anyone would settle down with. To the public he was Brucie.

But to you, he was just Bruce. While he was still your best friend he was also your husband. He was the man that you had married when you were 18 years old.

“Bruce!” you yelled, “We’re going to be late to the gala!”

Everyone believed that you and Bruce showed up together because you were the one who had to get drag him out of the manor. Bruce didn’t want to tell anyone that you were his wife, he didn’t want you to be a target of the media. He was content with how things were, but you weren’t and you were going to tell him that after tonight’s gala.

Suddenly arm wrapped around your waist, causing you to jump, “Bruce!”

“Alfred already has the car pulled around front, we had better hurry if we don’t want to be late”


The gala is beautiful. It is for charity, to help the homeless children of Gotham. You loved children, had always wanted a few of your own but Bruce was adamant that he didn’t want kids, not with him still being Batman. At least he refused to have a child that was his own blood. A few months ago he had brought home a little boy names Dick, who had lost his family in the circus. He was only 8, and he was lonely at the manor, maybe you would be able to convince Bruce to take in a second child.

“You’re real pretty, miss” one of the little boys said, gently touching the hem of your dress.

You crouched down so you were eye level with him, “Thank you. Are the people here being nice to you?”

He shrugged, “They don’t really talk to us, and we’re just some dirty street rats, they home that if they throw enough money at us that we will just disappear”

This child was only about 5, and he was already so hardened by the world, you knew that this one had to come home with you.

“What’s your name?”

“Jason, miss”

You smile quietly, “My name is Y/N” You glance over and point to Bruce, “That man over there is my husband, but no one here can know about it. I would like to take you home with us. We have a little boy, his name is Dick, and I think you two would be good for each other”

Jason’s evey widened, “Do you think he would say yes?”

“I’m going to try, sweetheart, but is that something you would like?”

He nodded frantically. You run your fingers gently through his hair and stand up, heading toward Bruce.

“Hey Bruce! Can I talk to you for a moment? Privatly?”

“Sure! Excuse me lovelies! I will be back!”

You and Bruce walk over to the balcony, and immediately his Brucie persona drops and he is just Bruce, “What do you need?”

“Do you see that little boy over there” Bruce nods, locking eyes with a five year old child, “I want to take him to the manor, I want to adopt him, like we did with Dick. Dick needs to have social interaction with other children, he is lonely”

“No” Bruce growls, “One child is risky enough, I won’t put two in danger”

“He won’t be in danger! Nothing is going to happen to him!”

“I said no Y/N, that’s the end of it”

“Like hell it is” you snarl, whipping around, stomping back over to the children.

You flop down on the floor and draw Jason into your lap. “He said no didn’t he?”

“He might have said no, but I said yes”

Jason looked at you, confused, “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you are coming home with me, whether or not my husband agreed or not”

The little boy let out a sob, wrapping his arms tightly around yours. “Thank you” he whispered

After a few hours the gala finally ends, you have already signed several papers, giving you full parental rights to Jason Tod. The little boy was exhausted, he was already asleep in your arms. Bruce had to leave earlier that night, the Justice League had needed Batman. Alfred was waiting for you by the time everything was wrapped up.

“I didn’t realize that we would be having a guest Ms. Y/N”

“Bruce doesn’t even know about Jason, Alfie”

Alfred nodded, “May I ask why?”

“He told me no, I didn’t like that as an answer, so I didn’t listen” You tighten your arms around the child and he curled into you tighter, “If he is going to deny me children of my own, then I am going to help other children”

Alfred sighed, used to this argument between you and Bruce.

“Very well, let us go to the manor and I will set up a room for the young Master Jason. I do believe that Master Dick will be quite pleased at the prospect of a little brother”

You nod and get into the car. As you drive back to the manor you mentally prepare yourself for the battle ahead.


Bruce is of course furious that you didn’t listen to him. You are thankful that the walls are so thick in this house.

“I told you that I didn’t want another child in this house! That I didn’t want to risk anyone else! We are married! We are supposed to make decisions together!!”

“Are we married Bruce?!? Because no one else other than us seem to know! So according to the papers I am the only one who is responsible for Jason! Because you can take on a ward but you can’t even claim me as your wife!!” You scream back.

“You know why I can’t do that! You know why it is dangerous for me to have a family!”

“I don’t want to be your secret anymore!!! I want to be able to hold my husband’s hand in public, to go out to dinner with him! I am sick and fucking tired of watching you dote on all of these women when our marriage is confined to this fucking manor!!”

Bruce looks at you in shock. You had never complained about your marriage before now, you had always just swallowed your complaints and stood by his decisions.

“I didn’t know …”

“Yeah, you didn’t know. You claim to be the World’s Greatest Detective but you didn’t know!!” You wipe your eyes with trembling fingers, “I think I’m going to sleep in one of the spare rooms tonight”

He doesn’t react at all when you leave. He just stands there and watches you. You don’t really know what’s worse, the fact that he lets you go or that he doesn’t even try to stop you.

Lookie Here

Summary: Reader is Alfie’s sister and she’s just every bit as fun as he is.

Characters: Reader, Alfie Solomons, Ollie, Thomas Shelby, ‘bakers’

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Word Count: 491

AN: This is my first Peaky Blinders Imagine please be nice about it.

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Imagine: Race gets jealous of how much time you spend with Kid Blink.

Sorry this took so long to get up! I got hella busy hella fast. But here it is! The others are currently works in progress so they should be up soon!!

Hope you enjoy! 

“Oh my gosh, Blink.” You say, rolling your eyes and punching your friend lightly.

He just laughed and you pushed him back, into the fountain.

It was the end of the day, and he still had 3 papers left to sell.

Night would be falling soon, as it was mid October, around 5 pm.

You helped your best friend out of the fountain, giggling, as he glared at you as he shivered.

You stood up at his side, and heard a familiar voice yelling a little bit down the street.

Smiling to yourself absent mindedly, you abandon Kid Blink as tries to brush himself off.

You’re leaning against a wall, the cool brick distracting you.

Racetrack was about 100 feet away, talking a sweet old lady into buying his last pape.

He grinned, laying the charm on thick.

“Yeah, all the way up from Mississippi!” You could hear him saying.

Definitely talking about weather.

You shook your head to yourself, and turned around, jumping when Kid Blink was suddenly there.

“Don’t scare me like that!” You shove him a little and he puts his hands up defensively.

Looking over your shoulder at Race one last time, you see catch him staring as he flips a coin from hand to hand.

He looks away and takes a few steps, quickly changing his mind and heads in your direction.

“Hey Race!” You say as he gets closer.

He nods curtly, but grins.

“How’d youse do sellin’?” He asked, lighting a cigar.

You weren’t thrilled about his habit, but you were accustomed to it.

“Sold all 75!” You say excitedly.

Race smiles and pats you on the back.

“What about you, Blink?” He asks, his entire tone changing to something a little less friendly.

Blink looks him up and down, as if sizing him up, before answering.

“I did alright. Still have three left.” He replies, cold.

The air around you became tense.

“Well,” You cut in, to break up the awkwardness. “How did you do?” You ask Race, smiling.

His standoffishness remained.

“Just sold my last one.” He says, not stopping his glare at Blink.

You clear your throat and start to back away from the angry pair.

“Alright, well, i’m going back to the lodge.” Neither boy says a word.

You roll your eyes, but head back.


“What’s your problem, Racetrack? You’ve been actin’ like youse hate me for a month now.” Blink asked angrily.

Race rolls his eyes, as if deeming the question stupid.

“You know exactly why!” He says, crossing his arms.

“If I knew, why would I be asking you?” He was getting sick of the games.


Kid Blink looked confused, then almost horrified.

“Flaunt whatever wese have? By that do youse mean our friendship?” He asks.

Racetrack rolls his eyes again, fed up with this conversation.

“Race,” He says, as Race begins to walk away.


“I’m not with (Y/N)! I don’t even like her that way. Like, I haven’t even considered that. Plus, I know who she likes. I know she isn’t lying, because she plays with her hair when she lies!” Kid Blink exclaimed, immediately realizing he totally gave away a secret.

Races eyes widened in curiosity and smirked a little.

“So, who does she like then?” He smirked, and folded his arms across his chest.

“Uh, no one you know!” Blink stammered unconvincingly.

“It’s someone in the ‘Hattan newsies, isn’t it?” Race asked.

Kid Blink wished more than anything he could disappear from that spot at that moment.

Race’s smirk widened as he bolted in the direction of the lodge.

“NO!” Blink screamed, running after him.

He knew exactly where this was going- he was going to use the tip about her inability to lie against her.

Well, she’s screwed. And then i’m screwed. He gulped, knowing what happened to the last guy who felt (Y/N)’s wrath.

Back at the Lodge…..

You were sitting up on your bunk, reading, despite the screaming newsboys below you.

Suddenly, Race burst through the door.

“(Y/N)!” He yelled.

You jump and your book goes flying, dropping it on poor Specs’s head.

“Sorry Specs!” You cry, hopping down and picking it up.

He smiles good naturedly and waves it off.

“What’s up?” You ask Race, who was smirking as if he was up to something.

You narrow your eyes, but don’t say anything.

“Oh, Ise just wanted to ask youse a couple ‘a questions!” He said, smirk widening.

“Ookay, go ahead.” You say, unsure.

“Youse a girl.” He says.

You laugh a little, and nod.

“Girls has feelins. About people. Guys especially. What do youse feel about somea da oddah ‘Hattan newsies?” He asked.

“Uh, they’re my best friends…?” You reply, unsure what he meant.

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Anyone particular, beyond friends?” He emphasized.

Your eyes widen when you finally figure out what he is alluding to.

“N-no!” You stammer, moving your hair to your left shoulder.

Racetrack grinned in a mischievous way.

“What about, say, Mush? And Specs?”

You shake your head, putting your hands on your hips.

“They’re awesome friends, but I couldn’t date either of them.”

You say, lowering your voice in case they could hear.

“Well,” Race’s voice lowers. “What about me?” The smirk returns, and he raises his eyebrows, as if he knows the answer to his own question.

You feel your face flush pink, and you grab a few curls and start to play with them.

“You’re also my best friend!” You say, hoping the shaking in your voice isn’t obvious.

He takes a step closer to you, and smiles.

You don’t move away.

“(Y/N),” He starts. “Ise been in love with youse since ise met you. Your laugh, the way you speak, your eyes. Ise constantly awed and inspired by youse, and ise had trouble holdin’ back my jealousy when ise saw youse with dem oddah boys.”

He takes your hands in his, and smiles down at you.

Without further hesitation, you slam your lips onto his, deepening the kiss by grabbing his shirt and tugging him towards you.

You break for air, and grin.


I have no idea why I’m posting this, but enjoy anyway. Warning for some brief violence and also some blood.

Geoff has known Gus since they were kids. Both had grown up in the system, sharing a few dozen foster parents before ultimately getting shoved out into the world at eighteen. When they realized ‘real jobs’ weren’t for them, they started conning the elderly out of their pension checks (something Gus got freakishly good at) before going their separate ways (Geoff wanted to try robbing banks while Gus stuck with the con business), but they kept in touch regularly and would borrow out their crew if the other needed extra help.

Geoff isn’t sure who’s running with Gus these days, but whoever they are clearly can’t be trusted with this job. It’s one of Gus’ downfalls, being unable to put up with people long enough to trust them to stay on his crew long term. In fact, if he had his way, Gus would have been his own crew, but even he knew he couldn’t do everything by himself. It’s not from lack of trying either.

“At least you’re here on time,” Gus says the moment Geoff gets out of the car. He’s leaning against the wall to his bar, arms crossed, a crate sitting next to his feet. It looks like weapons, but with Gus it could be anything. “Who’d you bring? Heckle and Jekyll?”

“Hardy har,” Geoff retorts sarcastically, lightly kicking the crate. “What is this?”

“Don’t kick it,” Gus scolds, pushing away from the wall. “There’s enough explosives in there to take out this street corner.”

“Jesus Christ!” Geoff jumps back, eyeing the crate warily. “Who the fuck are you dealing with?”

“That’s not important,” Gus states, gesturing for Ryan and Ray to take the crate to the car. “And be careful,” he snaps at them when they pick it up, struggling under the weight. Geoff rushes ahead of them, opening the trunk, and backs up so they can set the crate down in the middle.

“What the fuck is in that thing?” Ray asks, winded, glaring at the crate like it had wronged him.

“Sticky bombs,” Ryan replies before Geoff can, rolling his shoulders.

“And you know that how?”

Ryan quirks an eyebrow and smirks but doesn’t reply, closing the trunk. He can be really creepy sometimes, something everyone in the crew has pointed out on more than one occasion, but Geoff’s gotten to the point where he’d rather see Ryan be this kind of creepy instead of the standing over his bed with a knife kind of creepy.

“Call me when you get there,” Gus says when Geoff returns to his side, handing over a piece of paper with an address written on it, “just so I know you haven’t blown yourselves up.”


“I mean it, that shit’s expensive.”

“You’re a real friend, Sorola,” Geoff mutters under his breath, heading back towards the car.

Gus waves his hand dismissively, disappearing back into his bar, and Geoff snorts, sliding behind the wheel. He waits for Ryan and Ray to get back in the car before starting it, pulling out of his spot. Ray leans forward from the backseat, fiddling with the radio, flipping through stations.

“Everything is crap,” he declares after a beat, turning the radio off, falling back in his seat.

“You didn’t even listen to any of the music,” Ryan argues, glancing back at him, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“It’s crap,” Ray insists, pulling his hood up, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. “Wake me when we get there.”

“Here,” Geoff says, shoving the address Gus gave him at Ryan. “Punch that in the GPS when we get back to Los Santos.”

Ryan looks down at the address, reading it carefully, and asks, “Who needs this much explosives?”

“Besides you,” Geoff mutters, earning him a glare from the man sitting next to him. “I don’t know. Gus’s usual MO are cons, but lately he’s been sorta a go between for criminals. Anything not strictly legal that’s coming into or out of Los Santos goes through him first.”

“Sounds dangerous.” A feral grin appears on Ryan’s face and Geoff rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s also stupid. Anyone could gun for him at any given time, but he seems content with doing it. I’d feel better if he had people watching his back.” Actually, Geoff would feel better if Gus would just go back to doing cons. He’s less likely to end up with a bullet to the head.

“We’re all criminals, Geoff,” Ryan points out, sounding a little distracted, his eyes on the passenger side mirror, “we’re all gotta go sometime.”

Dread settles in Geoff’s stomach. “What?”

“Hmm?” Ryan looks up, turning his attention to Geoff. “Nothing.”

“You sure?”

His eyes back on the mirror, eyebrows furrowed, Ryan absentmindedly nods. “Yeah.”

Geoff shoots him several furtive looks, hoping to get some sort of explanation as to why he’s acting weirder than usual, but Ryan stays quiet. He also put his mask on, and Geoff would really like to know where the fuck he had been hiding that because it’s too hot for jackets and Ryan’s jeans pockets are not big enough.

Fuck it, Geoff thinks, deciding he does not want to know after all.

Ryan rolls down the window just as someone rear ends them, sending the car jolting forward, startling Ray awake. Geoff glances in the rear view mirror, his eyes widening when he sees the black van on his ass.

“Where the fuck did that come from!” he screams, pressing the gas pedal nearly to the floor when bullets start peppering his bumper.

“Just keep driving,” Ryan responds in an eerily calm voice, climbing out of the car, perching on the edge of the windowsill. His gun is in his hands, his thumb flicking the safety off, and he looks like he’s about to do some major damage. He’s also out of his goddamn mind and Geoff wants nothing more than to reach over and yank him back into the car, but he can’t do that and keep them on the road, so he lets Ryan do what Ryan does best.

“You’re on a murder break, you dumbass!” Geoff reminds him, instinctively ducking when another spray of bullets hits his car.

“I don’t intend to kill anyone,” Ryan shouts back before firing a shot at the van.

“Isn’t that a Lost van?” Ray asks, reality finally catching up to him, his head down so he doesn’t get shot.


“Thought Phillips took care of that gang,” Geoff says, swerving to avoid hitting a Station Wagon, wincing when Ryan shouts in surprise. “Sorry!”

“Clearly he missed a couple,” Ryan replies, taking another shot, spider webbing the van’s windshield. “And fuck you!”

“I said sorry!”

“Yeah, well there’s sorry and then there’s…” Ryan trails off into a hiss of pain seconds before plummeting from the car window.

“Ryan!” Geoff and Ray scream, the latter scrambling into the front seat. It takes some fast acting on Geoff’s part to keep Ray from diving out of the window after Ryan, dragging him back into the seat with one hand, trying desperately to keep the car on the road with the other.

“Take the wheel,” he shouts after Ray stops struggling, pulling his pistol from the holster hidden beneath his suit jacket.


“Just take the fucking wheel!” Geoff repeats and rolls the window down. He waits until Ray has his hand on the wheel before letting go, pulling himself up on the windowsill like Ryan had done. He ducks quickly, narrowly avoiding a bullet, and points his gun at the van. He takes a breath, trying not to think about the sticky bombs in the trunk, or the fact that one of his guys is probably a red stain on the road, and fires.

He hits the tire, sending the van spinning and some quick maneuvering has them coming to a complete stop on the side of the road. Geoff pushes himself back into the car, slamming on the breaks, skidding to a halt in the middle of the highway. Another car skids around them, having to practically drive into the desert to avoid hitting them, the driver still too freaked out about the gunfight to be angry.

Ray is out of the car first, Geoff right on his heels, both opening fire on the two bikers that scramble out of the van, taking them both down before they could raise their weapons. Once they’re dead, Ray takes off running in the direction Ryan had fallen, ignoring Geoff when he calls after him.

Grumbling, Geoff chases after him, but both skid to a halt when a masked figure limps towards them. He’s holding his side, blood soaking through his t-shirt and jeans, one of his shoes missing. Geoff can’t help the jolt of concern he feels when he sees Ryan stagger, but he keeps going like nothing happened. It’s really only a matter of time before he falls over.

“See, I didn’t kill anyone,” Ryan says once he’s within hearing distance, his words sounding a little slurred, unfocused blue eyes looking between Geoff and Ray.

“You look half dead,” Geoff comments and Ray nods wordlessly.

“Still look better than you,” Ryan retorts, limping in the direction of the car.

“He’s got you there,” Ray agrees shakily, trying for casual but not quite pulling it off. He also looks like he’s about two seconds away from rushing to Ryan’s side, but he’s fighting the impulse, knowing his help probably wouldn’t be appreciated. Getting shot out of a car couldn’t have done much for Ryan’s pride, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, and having to lean on anyone would be like putting salt into a fresh wound.

“Just get in the car,” Geoff grumbles, moving back towards the car. He points a finger at Ryan and warns, “You die on the way home, I’m leaving you on the side of the road.”

“Promises, promises.”

Second’s Not The Same


Genre: Angst & Intended Smut

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Cheating and mild smut

Summary: Inspired by the song ‘Is There Somewhere’ Halsey. 

You’re writing lines about me,
Romantic poetry,
Your girl’s got red in her cheeks cause we’re something she can’t see.
And I try to refrain but you’re stuck in my brain,
All I do is cry and complain,
Because second’s not the same.”

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Overwatch AU: Mercy (Claws that Snatch chapter 8 preview)

Claws That Snatch: Werewolf!Lena / Vampire!Amelie (With a bunch of other overwatch characters as monsters) (I should really just call this the Monster AU)


Featuring “Mercy” by Shawn Mendes

Please have mercy on me

Take it easy on my heart

Even though you don’t mean to hurt me

You keep tearing me apart

Would you please have Mercy


On my heart?

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Sentinel Wars (4/?)

I actually…. wrote some fic…  *crying tears of joy*

(Anyone seeing this for the first time, be warned: I ship Obi/Rex and I’m not ashamed to admit it.)

On AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4:

The next two days are… an experience.

Rex has to pull Kenobi aside a total of four times on the first day to settle his senses.  It works beautifully every time, and leaves Rex feeling high as a skybird when all the accumulated tension drains out of his body in the span of a few minutes.  Kenobi’s schedule is hectic at best, but every time, he drops whatever he’s doing when Rex tips an eyebrow at him in a silent request.  Rex doesn’t even have to say a word - Kenobi reads him with remarkable ease.  It must be that link Kenobi was talking about, sensing what Rex’s mind feels like.  The fourth time, Rex doesn’t even have to signal him before Kenobi is excusing himself from the briefing on the hyperdrive repairs, and they find a quiet corner to re-sync without having to discuss it.  Rex still isn’t quite sure how he feels about that level of connection, but he has to admit, it’s damned useful.

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Character: Lafayette X Reader
Prompt: The HamilSquad & Schuyler Sisters decide to go ice skating as the group outing for the week. While the boys join in happily, Angelica and Eliza plot to have you and your crush, Lafayette, forced to skate together.
Word Count: 3,104
W/T: Lots of teasing, some cursing, google translated French
A/N: What can I say, I’m a sucker for Daveed. He’s just so… Daveed. Hope y'all enjoy! ~SJ


“Angelica, I swear, if this is another one of your ‘matchmaker’ ideas to get Herc to skate with me, I’m not going.” Peggy pouts, crossing her arms defiantly next to you, and glaring at her two older sisters, who held a pair of car keys and eight tickets to an ice rink nearby. “Oh, don’t be such a Debby Downer.” Eliza groans, jingling the silver and gold keychain in her hand. “We always have one of these kinds of nights!” “Yeah, but it’s usually just the girls!” Peggy argues, flailing her arms in exaggeration. “You’re coming and that’s final, Margarita.” Angelica deadpans, tossing her dark swirling locks over her shoulder. “I already bought your ticket anyway.” “And besides,” Eliza interjects, quickly leaning over and grabbing you by the arm, pulling you to a standing position, “you wouldn’t want to leave Y/N as a third wheel, would you?” You smile timidly at your best friend, her eyes narrowing accusingly at you.

“Whatever.” Peggy answers hotly, pushing herself off of the couch. “But I’m only doing this because I don’t want Y/N to be alone with the guys. God knows what mischief they’ll get into.” Angelica and Eliza both squeal in excitement, spinning on their heels to rush out of the front door. “Don’t you hate how strung up they are on boys?” Peggy scoffs, her voice becoming a bit less hateful than before. “You can say that again.” You laugh, watching the two girls dressed in pink and light blue giddily hop into their car, their faces plastered with a goofy smile. “Eliza finally gets a boyfriend, and what do you know? She wants to invite him to everything that is meant to be for us.” “What? So you’re saying you don’t want to hang out with Hercules?” You tease, gently nudging her in the shoulder. “I didn’t say that!” Peggy quickly counters, pushing you away from her hurriedly, her cheeks brushed with a tint of pink now. “Oh, don’t be so sour about Eliza, Peg. Eventually she’ll get over the hype, and it’ll settle down a bit. Besides, once tonight’s over, I bet you and ol’ Herc will be on ‘better than friends’ terms, huh?” You smirk, taking in the obvious blushing of her face against her darker skin. “Oh shut up, Y/N.” Peggy whines, trying to cover her face up. “Aww, my lil’ Peggy’s in loooveeee~.” You gush, grabbing ahold of her wrist and forcing them down, that way you can watch her become more and more flustered. “Stop! Y/N stop it!” Peggy complains, freeing herself from your hold. “I can’t help it! My best friend is in love with my other friend!” You sigh, smiling happily at the thought of your two friends being an item. “And I suppose you don’t have anyone you’re falling head over heels for?” Peggy questions, raising an eyebrow at you suspiciously. Ha! You think guys like me? That’s adorable Peggy, honestly.“ You cackle, shrugging off the thought. “Uh huh. We’ll see about that.” Peggy answers, clicking her tongue.

A couple of short and not so subtle honks from the driveway indicates that you and Peggy have been standing here for too long, according to Angelica’s watch. “Come on. The sooner we get there, the sooner you get to see your boyfriend~.” You sing, grabbing Peggy by the bright yellow sleeve of her sweater and dragging her out to the awaiting car.

Almost instantly you are bombarded by some loud rap music blaring from the speakers, Eliza beat boxing while Angelica managed to spit out every line fluently. Silently, you slide into the backseat with Peggy, hoping that Angelica’s rapping wouldn’t distract her enough to get into an accident. “Let’s go.” Peggy piped up, surprising her two older sisters. Eliza quickly turned the volume down and whipped her head around the seat to give Peggy a devious look. “Oh? You want to arrive so soon?” She giggles, sharing a look with Angelica. “N-no. Y/N just said she really wanted to get to the rink already!” Peggy says nervously, pushing the pressure onto you. “And why would that be?” Angelica asks, backing out of the driveway and onto the main road. “Because I’m the best fucking skater you’ll ever meet.” You sarcastically joke, rolling your eyes at what she was implying. “I bet he’d love that.” Eliza whispers excitedly to Angelica, hitting her arm. “Excuse me?” You automatically scoff, this sudden comment catching your attention. “It’ll be perfect!” Angelica answers, her smile growing at whatever she was thinking. “Y/N will go off skating, and lil’ Peggy here will be struggling along behind. And then-” “Hercules will come bounding in, and sweep her off of the ice!” Eliza finishes, staring dreamily into the distance. “Because let’s face it, she will be on the ground more than she will her feet.” Angelica snickers, almost missing the turnoff.

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding as Angelica straightens out the car, continuing to babble on with Eliza about how cute Peggy and Hercules would be, not to mention their own love interests. You hope that they weren’t talking about you from the comment Angelica made, because you were here to help set up Peggy on their behalf. That’s the main reason you had actually come tonight, anyway. Eliza had begged you to help out in their plan, because Peggy would have never come if you weren’t there. Your gaze drifts over to your best friend as she crosses your mind, where her face is hidden by her hands, obviously to hide her blushing. This poor child can’t handle her feelings very well, and with all of the teasing she’s been receiving for the past couple of hours, you were kinda surprised to see how she was still managing to take it.

But you are quickly jarred from your thoughts as your momentum carries you forward, and your seatbelt jerks you back into place. A collective groan sounds off around the car as Angelica announces your arrival. The sisters file out of the car, Eliza and Angelica practically skipping towards the indoor ice rink. Peggy offers you a sheepish smile, her face still tinted pink. “Hey,” You start, noticing how nervous she suddenly was, “everything is going to be fine. Just be yourself, and if you need me, just wave me over. You can do it.” Hesitantly, she nods, gaining a bit more composure and confidence as you began to jog to catch up to her siblings. You and Peggy trail behind the two sisters ahead of you, their constant rambling seeming quieter as you got closer. “Oh, here’s your tickets.” Angelica smiles, holding out a pair of tickets to you. You and Peggy eagerly grab ahold of the blue entry passes, their paper seeming a bit thicker than the last time you came here. “Well? Let’s go meet up with everyone!” Eliza breathes, turning to open the solid metal door behind her. She grabs ahold of the handle and flings it open, the cool air and Christmas music flooding your senses.

The large sitting area ahead of you was alive with people, their conversations and laughter filling the air along with the overhead music. The far wall stood lines with a concession stand, a skate rental booth, and restrooms. The East wall was instead a clear window pane all the way across, it’s tinted glass allowing for you to see down into the ice rink, where many people could be found already skating. The other two walls sat blank, with tables and chairs lined up against them in a haphazardly fashion. The dim lighting of the lobby left you with a rather moody atmosphere, which seemed a bit peculiar. You pull your sleeves down over your hands, already feeling a bit chilly. You told yourself to wear something a little warmer, but God knows how stubborn you can be with yourself. “Look, there they are.” Eliza cries, her eyes falling upon a table towards the window. Everyone’s eyes follow her gaze until they also stop on the four familiar figures ahead of them, their laughter echoing quietly. Without another thought, Angelica grabs you but the hood of your F/C jacket, tugging you along behind Eliza and Peggy.

“About time you guys showed up.” A shorter man dressed in a grey sweater and jeans chuckles, taking Eliza in his arms lovingly, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Good to see you too, Alexander.” Angelica remarks, rolling her eyes at the two lovebirds. “Now don’t be bitter, the night hasn’t even started yet.” Another one of the males interjects, stepping forward. His low man bun and freckled face greets you and Peggy kindly before turning to Angelica, a goofy smile appearing on his lips. “I mean, we haven’t even gone to get our skates yet!” “Well we can’t skate without the proper equipment, now can we John?” You joke, ushering both groups towards the rental counter while Angelica frantically begins to hand out tickets. Alexander and Eliza practically rushed towards the booth, each already shouting their size at the worker. “What are we going to do with them?” You giggle to Peggy, who rolls her eyes in response. John and Angelica have already grabbed their skates, and began to follow Alex and Eliza towards the nearest bench, giddy to begin skating. “What size do you need?” The man behind the counter drones, his voice monotone. “11.” A deeper voice pipes, the owner of it gently pushing past you. His darker skin and grey beanie couldn’t be mistaken as he hands the vendor his ticket in exchange for his skates. His gaze turns to Peggy, who you nudge forward, her face an obvious mix of nerves. “What size?” Hercules asks, holding his hand out to take Peggy’s ticket from her. She happily hands it to him and replies, “6.”, earning a chuckle out of Hercules. “That makes your feet sound so much more delicate than they already are.” Peggy smiles boldly at Hercules as he takes her pair of skates into his arms, nodding for her to follow. Peggy tags along behind the large man, glancing back over her shoulder at you with a lovestruck smile. You smile back and give her a thumbs up, already loving the interaction between the two. “Y/N, mon ange, do you happen to have my ticket?” A thick and familiar French accent asks you, causing you to turn to the origin of the voice, a slightly tingling sensation rising in your chest.

You were greeted by none other than Lafayette, the French friend that the guys had added to their group during their first year at Princeton. His dark hair was full of kinks and curls, and tied up in its usual spot, almost like he had a puffball glued to his head. His darker skin made his teeth seem to sparkle as he stood over you, his height making him taller than you by a long shot. “Um no I don-” You start, grabbing for your own ticket from your pocket. But as you pull out the single ticket, you feel it shift oddly in your hand. Your eyes travel down to see that your ticket had split into two tickets, a small amount of tacky glue pressed against the bottom side of yours and the topside of the second one. “Those sneaky little bitches.” You breathe, still staring at the duplicated tickets. Lafayette says something as well, but you couldn’t understand his mumbling. Your eyes meet for a second, an all knowing looking passing between you two like electricity before you both turn to look over your shoulder at the rest of the group. Angelica and John are paused by the door to the rink, their own heads craning to look at you and Lafayette. As their eyes meet yours, they giggle, share a look, and duck their heads quickly as they disappear into the ice, obviously the culprits. “Well, looks like we’re stuck together for tonight.” You laugh, handing Laf his ticket. He tilts his head slightly, a small smirk etched onto his lips. “I don’t think I’ll mind, mon amour.” He laughs, handing the vendor his ticket, pointing to his size. You do the same, and he offers you his arm as you two turn to go to the nearest bench, ready to lace up.

“Have you ever done this stuff before?” Lafayette asks, struggling with finding the end of his laces. “Oh yeah. I used to go to the one in my hometown every Wednesday with a group of people I grew up with. It was a tradition then.” You laugh, your fingers flying along with your own laces, the muscle memory of doing this every week flooding back into your hands. “I can tell.” He chuckles, watching you stand up, your skates already tied. “Now you actually look of decent height.” He teases, finishing his own shoestrings. “Oh whatever, French Fry.” You laugh, staring at him as he stands. “Never mind.” He jokes, his gaze lowering to you. “Oh just come on.” You urge, rather eager to get out onto the floor. It’s been a while since you’ve actually been ice skating, so the cool air and overly musty scent of the arena are all but welcoming to you. You happily step out onto the ice, already gliding around like you used to to do, spinning around and around, creating a brisk and cold whirlwind around you. Slide out of it, back to the front of the rink, where you notice Lafayette frozen in place, his eyes locked on you.

“Come on, Laf! Why aren’t you out here?” You huff out, catching your breath slightly as you lean against the wall, looking up at the tall Frenchman. He bites his lip slightly, as if he were nervous to say something. “Laf? Are you okay?” You ask, your voice now softer and you gently place a hand against his arm. His gaze drifts down to where you placed your hand, a growing warmth kindling in it. “It’s nothing, mon amour, it’s just… I do not know how to, how you say?” He asks, gesturing down to your feet. “Skate?” You offer, it coming out as more of a laugh. “Skate! Yes, I do not know how to do that.” He exclaims, his voice drifting off in embarrassment. “Here,” you giggle, gliding around to the other side of him, holding your two hands out. “Just do what I do, it’s not that hard, I promise.” Hesitantly, Lafayette places his hands in yours, and you begin to skate backwards, towing him along. “So just move your right foot forward, and let it glide back around… There you go. And do the same with your left foot… Yeah. And just keep doing that.” You naturally instruct, speeding up slowly. Surprisingly, Laf got the a pretty good grasp on how to skate pretty quickly. “Now how do you stop?” He ask, cocking an eyebrow at you. “You use the toe of your skates, like this.” You explain, letting go of his hands for a moment and turning to skate the same way he was. You pick up a bit of speed before dragging the front of your skate on the ground, slowing you down enough to turn back to Lafayette, who was wobbly skating on his own.

“Like this?” He asks, jamming his foot into the ice much faster and harder than he needed to, causing him to end up falling face first into the ice. You manage to hide you laughter behind your hand as he manages to sit back up, slightly dazed. “How did I do?” He cheekily grins, holding two thumbs up to you. “Okay, you’re not allowed to stop without my help.” You giggle, attempting to gain your composure as you lean down and take his hand, helping him back up. “Yes ma'am.” He chuckles, steadying himself back on the skates. “I think I might need you for more than just stopping.” Lafayette admits, holding your hand a little tighter. “I’ll stay here as long as you need.” You answer kindly, flashing him a toothy smile. “Good, mon ange, because I think that everyone else is a bit preoccupied at the moment.” He suggests, pointing out a couple on the opposite side of the rink, her bright yellow sweater contrasting his darker one. “Oh my lord, look how cute they are!” You squeal, squeezing Lafayette’s hand. “Just look how adorable those two are together!” You stared, awestruck at the sight of your friends, while Lafayette stared at you, his attention directed to what he thought was cute. “God, I’ve been waiting for those two to date for ages.” You emphasize, turning back to Lafayette, meeting his gaze. “I was really only invited on this to force Peggy to come. Angelica and Eliza have been trying to hook them up forever.” “Oh really? Tell me more, mon amour.” Lafayette inquires, his smile soft and caring.

“Oh gladly.” You begin, a childish smile growing upon your lips. “Ever since Peggy met Hercules, I knew something was up. You know, it’s just kind of that best friend instinct, you know? Anyway, so I confronted her about it and she didn’t deny anything, which therefore means that she confirmed everything, because that’s how it works. And since then, I’ve teased her constantly about it, calling him her boyfriend and her love and mushy stuff like that. She’s tried to turn it around on me but she doesn’t know who likes me~.”

“Oh? Do you you have so many men after you that you can’t keep count?” Lafayette jests, nudging you slightly. “Ha! You think guys like me, that’s adorable, Laf, honestly.” You dismiss, glancing down to your feet. “Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that, mon amour. I think I know of someone who is smitten for you.” He teases, smiling a mischievous smirk. “Oh? And who would that b-Gah!” You yell, tumbling forward as Lafayette drags you to the ice. You crash against him, landing on his chest. “What the hell Laf I told you not to s-” But your words are stopped by the warmth of Lafayette’s lips pressed against yours, making your face heat up. You kiss back, not aware of much you had been waiting for this. You pull away, your eyes meeting his as you pull yourself off of him, offering him your hands. He takes them gently and pulls himself off of the ice, giving you another quick peck.

“You did that on purpose, you sneaky bastard.”