but then like when the sun is higher in the sky it's awful

Neverland’s Queen

A one-shot based off of the song Going to California by Led Zeppelin? Like the lyrics are a prophecy that Peter goes out to fulfill? “Someone told me there’s a girl out there, with love in her eyes and a flower in her hair. (..) She is red when skies are grey. (..) They say she plays guitar and cries, and sings…” ^Prophecy idk. So Peter goes to find this dream girl or whatever and finds it she doesn’t really exist. He comes back to Neverland where the reader is staying, and realizes that SHE is his dream girl. Idk the whole request is a mess:)

warnings: slight swearing, also i loooove this request. it’s detailed and different so i really went all out
1990 words

“There’s a girl out there with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair.
When the sea burns red and the sky stains grey,
And the mountains and canyons then tremble and shake
As the children of the sun begin to awake,

You will find a queen without a king.
She plays a song and cries and sings.
She rides a white mare in the footsteps of dawn.
She is a woman who’s been never born.”

Peter Pan gawked at the mermaid, stunned by her sung prophecy. He never had any use of the Seer of the Sea, until recently, when he had grown restless of his lonely life, and so had come to the Lagoon seeking out the maid who gave oracles to those who could capture her. The King of Neverland was tired of a solitary reign. He needed someone to rule beside him, someone who could love and protect the island just as he did. There were his Lost Boys, of course, and they were fiercely loyal and true of heart, but he couldn’t very well make any of them his queen.

There was you, however. A girl fiercer than any of his boys, and much prettier, Peter mentally added. Of course, he would never tell you that. You infuriated his entire being. Truly, it was a miracle that Pan restrained himself from begging the Shadow to take you back. He loathed you. He loathed your snark, your quick witted remarks shutting down his attempts at annoying you, he loathed your sweet laughter when you could convince the boys to tease him too, and he especially loathed the gentle curve of your lips when you smirked at him, absolutely plump and delic- NO.

Peter forced a heavy wall down onto those thoughts. Now was not the time to be thinking about your infuriating lips. He needed to find his queen. “Where is she?” Peter boomed at the mermaid, and it was not so much a question as a command to tell him of the prophesied girl’s whereabouts. The oracle merely smiled knowingly, and began to float away. “Wait!” His voice was desperate, and the maid, sensing this, turned around slowly in the water, silver hair shimmering with the last of the sunset’s light.

“The girl you seek is from the place without magic.
And you shall soon find her surrounded by manic
But search well, dear King, and keep sharp your sight.
You may only find her until the break of first light.”

It took seconds to comprehend her second riddle, but Pan was quick, and shortly exasperated then after. Until the break of first light. Sunrise. “I only have sunrise to find her?”

“Cherish my gift of foretelling.
Do not be led astray.
My words’ magic, it shall run out
At the first light of the day.”

With a flick of her brilliant indigo tail, the mermaid was gone, and Peter was left alone with little time and a prophecy.

… … …

Night had finally fallen, and Peter strode into camp, headed straight for Felix. He stopped in his tracks, however, when he saw you atop the boy’s shoulders. Laughing, as his second in command paraded you around. Blushing, as Felix cracked a joke about you being the queen of Neverland. Stroking, your fingers idly gripping the boy’s blond locks, and Peter’s own hands clenched at the display before him. Felix was clad in a white shirt tonight, a contrast to his usual earth-toned raiments, but the Lost Children had planned a special feast this evening, and it seemed he dressed up for the occasion. Dressed up for you. As Peter’s right-hand boy spun you, forcing sweet laughter from your lips, the King decided he had had enough of his horsing around.

“Felix,” he barked, not wasting any time as the moon rose into the sky. “I’m leaving the island for a little trip. You’re in charge,” Peter said, turning away from the sight of you together. He halted when your voice rang from the other side of camp.

“Finally tired of us, Pan?” You slipped off from Felix’s shoulders, eager to goad the clearly agitated leader. You couldn’t miss an opportunity to push his buttons. “I thought I’d never see the day you’d abandon us. And here you are, leaving us defenseless without a leader to protect us.”

“You’re damn well aware that you’re more than capable of protecting yourself, (Y/N).” Peter’s sharp response surprised you both. That almost sounded like… a compliment? No, it couldn’t be. You eyed him confusedly, and an unnameable tension that had been between you both for quite a few weeks now filled the air between you, humming as the Lost Boys began a bonfire far behind you.

Felix coughed from where he stood to the side, smirking at his leader with an understanding twist of his lips. Peter shot him a dirty look. It was a misfortune, he thought. That his subordinate should also be his best friend. He knew more about Peter than Peter knew about himself, and Pan hated it. He hated the knowing smirk on his subordinate’s lips. Felix did make up for though, when he cleverly dispersed the tension to save his friend from an awkward encounter. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Pan?”

The time. Peter looked up at the sky, and found the moon rising even higher into the night. “Shit,” he breathed. “I’ll be back by sunrise,” he stated, running off into the forest before flying up, up, and away to another realm. You watched him go, his beautiful form snaking throughout the trees and disappearing into the stars. Once he was out of sight, Felix whistled at you, and you grinned at your friend, hopping onto his back as he made his way to the feast.

… … …

Nothing. He had found fucking nothing these past few hours. Peter racked his mind for the bits and pieces of the prophecy he still retained. What had it all meant?

When the sea burns red.
She rides a white mare.
A woman who’s been never born.

How would the sea ever burn? Which white mare was it? If the girl he was searching for had never been born, what the hell was he doing looking for her? The oracle’s words swum in fragments in his mind.

Peter had searched all over the land without magic, flying over red waves of rock in a desert, searching through grey storms in chilly towns, and ending up in various pubs and bars, trying to find his prophesied queen. His equal. He did come across many beautiful girls where he searched, and they all took an interest in him, but he knew in his heart that they were not the one he had been looking for.

Everything about them was wrong. Their hair was wrong, their too-sweet words whispered into his ear were wrong, and even their lips were wrong, the slope of them not at all right. The feel of the girls was foreign, and unfamiliar. The moon hung low in the sky now, and Peter Pan had lost faith in finding someone who would fill the barren void in his heart. With a reluctant sigh, the King decided that there was no such queen for him, and with a crumbling heart, he flew home.

… … …

Peter made it back, unnerved by the fact that the Lost Boys were still dancing. He caught sight of you.

There’s a girl out there with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair.
When the sea burns red and the sky stains grey,

He saw the crown of poppies and other wildflowers adorning your head, and something tugged at the back of Peter’s mind. The moon was gone now, and a sliver of the sun’s fire was rising from the horizon, turning the ocean into a sea of red. Grey fog lined the skies.

And the mountains and canyons then tremble and shake
As the children of the sun begin to awake,

The Lost Boys continued to dance around of the fire, its flames mimicking those of the sun. It seemed as if the boys’ stomping quaked the very earth beneath them. The sun began to peek out from beyond the sea, driving the boys even wilder.

You will find a queen without a king.
She plays a song and she cries and she sings.

Your flower crown was beautiful upon you, Peter thought, the various shades of the petals bringing out the glow in your face, the mirth in your features. You sang a tune as the boys stepped in time, the beat never faltering.

She rides a white mare in the footsteps of dawn.

Peter took notice of your position on Felix’s broad shoulders, and his eyes widened as he realized his second-in-command had played as your steed for the night .

She is a woman who’s been never born.

Peter staggered backwards. The mermaid didn’t mean that the girl had not been born yet. She had been never born. Never born. Neverborn.

It was you, he realized. His queen, adorned with a crown and steed to match. You were an ordinary girl back where you had come from, but when the Shadow brought you here, oh, how stupid of him not to realize! Peter stared at you in awe. Once you were brought to Neverland, you were reborn as a Lost Girl. A queen. His queen. And the King had come to claim you.

“Peter!” You slipped off Felix as you caught sight of the green-eyed boy, eager to give another jab at his ego. He stalked towards you, a determined look on his face, and you smirked, ready to let the banter begin. “How kind of the King to return to his people,” you remarked, Peter walking faster towards you. “I was beginning to think-” You actually had no time to think, or to even finish your sentence, for that matter, because as soon as he had strided close enough, the King of Neverland pulled you in by the waist for the most breathtaking kiss.

… … …

It was quiet. The camp was quiet.

The fire was quiet.

The forest was quiet.

Hell, even the boys were quiet. Silence had swept over the island in a single breath as Peter Pan crashed his lips to yours. His mouth danced along your own, and you couldn’t comprehend how long it was the pair of you stood there in the middle of camp, your hands rested on his chest as his hands caressed your hips, all while you returned his fervent motions. You came up for breath, and peered up at him.

You tried to think of something, anything to say. At this point, you couldn’t care less if it was witty or not. You just needed to know…

“Why?” It was the least you could say, and you hoped it conveyed everything you wished to ask. Why was he kissing you? Why did it feel so right? Why you?

“Because you’re my queen,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours. And although you were unaware of most of the meaning, somehow, you understood what he meant. You understood the meaning of the tension that had been building up between you two, the meaning of his playful teasing, and the meaning of the words he spoke now. You smiled up at Peter, at your King, and leaned in for another kiss. He was more than happy to oblige, and the boys began hollering once again at the pair of you, Felix rolling his eyes as if to say, “About damn time.”

The magic of the island thrummed as if in understanding that its queen had been found, and somewhere beneath murky turquoise depths, a grin bloomed on the face of someone with silvery locks, who beamed up at the surface in approval before swimming away with a flick of an indigo tail.

(A/N): I fucking loved writing this, and I hope you guys enjoyed it too! 

Snowdrift (fRyder x Reyes)

@atrilial @for-the-grey-wardens

No angst!? Uh oh. 

Reyes had never been to Voeld before, and he didn’t think he’d ever been this cold. There was cryo, of course, but he hadn’t really felt that. There was also that one terrifying suit breach back in training, and that was an experience he never wanted to repeat - but it wasn’t really comparable. The cold up here wasn’t sharp or fleeting. It was dense. It was pervasive. It made his limbs feel heavy, like there were icicles hanging from his sleeves. Still, it was a pleasant kind of cold. It made his heart beat faster to make up the difference. He had a helmet on, but his lips still felt a little numb.

Sara was barely visible through the haze of whirling snow, but she was somewhere above him. If he squinted up the mountainside, he could see her clinging to the slope. Slope was putting it mildly, though. It looked like they were climbing up the side of a fucking world.

How had she talked him into this?

She twisted around to wave at him - and Reyes’ heart lurched up into his mouth when she wobbled on her perch. She caught herself, though, and Reyes could hear her laughing through the comm in his helmet.

“You’re crazy!”

Sara gave an exaggerated shrug - and removed both hands from the rock she’d been clutching. Reyes was sure his heart was going to give out right here. Maybe he’d fall off the mountainside and finally find out what was so great about a jump jet.

“No hands,” Sara said cheerily. She waved them both in the air - and if Reyes could have seen her face through her helmet, he’d have definitely found her grinning. “You doing okay down there?”

“Just fine,” he grumbled. He was trying not to look down. He stretched for his next handhold, carefully checking its stability before he hauled himself up higher. This wasn’t rock-climbing, precisely, but it was close enough. Reyes didn’t want to find out how this would go without something to hold onto. “What about you? Want me to take a turn carrying those things?”

“Nah.” Sara turned back around and gave her hips a wriggle, shaking the two bundles of hardened polymer slats that were strapped across her shoulders. “I’m good. Scott and I used to take turns carrying them, and Dad’s weighed a ton.”

“Yours was an awfully athletic family, wasn’t it?”

Sara chuckled - or maybe she just exhaled loudly. Reyes hadn’t yet sorted through which parts of Sara’s family life were still sore to the touch. This seemed to be one of those memories she hadn’t made up her own mind about, either. She turned her back and reached for another rock.

“We’re nearly there,” she breathed into the comm. “We’ll rest at the top.”

“You can’t mean the top.” Reyes was aghast. “That is a very tall peak, Sara. I can’t even see it from down here.”

She did laugh, this time; full-throated and gleeful. “Not the top top. See that slope?” She pointed with her left hand, and Reyes followed the line of her arm to an outcropping about twenty metres higher up. It was a steep approach from where they were, but it gave way to a smooth slope on its western side. “We’ll go from there.”

Reyes barely made it. He’d always thought he was in pretty good shape, but the Pathfinder’s lifestyle was turning out to be more than he was ready for. Sara had made this little trip to Voeld sound much more romantic and much less exhausting than it had been so far, and Reyes’ legs were wobbling when he finally clambered up onto the ledge she’d pointed out. She grabbed his forearm to help him up the final few steps, tumbling back onto her haunches when he was finally kneeling beside her.

Sara tugged off her helmet and plonked it onto the ground. Her hair spilled across the rock, picking up snowflakes as it went. Her cheeks were red. She was grinning, but she was breathing hard - and that helped with Reyes’ embarrassment when he lay down flat on his face. He pulled his helmet off and lobbed it into the snowdrift behind them.


Sara laughed, the pitch climbing steadily. Her voice turned breathy as she tugged on Reyes’ arm. “Look,” she urged him. “Look.”

Reyes grumbled as he picked himself up - but in the end, he was glad he obeyed.

The snowfields spread out below them like a sea of melted stars. Ice, snow, rock, sky; they were everywhere and nowhere, wrapped in an orb of pale blue and white. The sun blazed high above them, brilliant but somehow cold, its pale light bathing everything in a piercing, peaceful glow. Reyes felt his mouth fall open. He forgot the cold. He forgot the wind. He forgot the ache in his muscles and the sweat on his skin.


Sara beamed at him, her hand snaking down his arm. Their gloves made it difficult, but she twined her fingers through his. “Your mouth is open.”

“I know.”

She turned his face to hers and kissed him, teasing his lower lip between her teeth. Reyes could taste ice water on her lips. “Thank you for coming with me. I haven’t done this since I was a teenager.”

With that, she slid her burdens off her shoulder. The heavy slats clacked loudly as she emptied them onto the rock and set about clicking the pieces together. Reyes watched uncertainly as the first sled slowly took form. The view was beautiful, but his awe was quickly fading. Heights were fine. Speed was fine. Descending a height at speed, though, without a good pair of wings beneath you - that was insanity.

“I know you said this wasn’t dangerous -”

“It’s not.”

“- but I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to back out.”

Sara chuckled, and she snapped the next pair of slats together with glee. “Having second thoughts? There’s no way you can be scared of heights.”

“I’m not.”

“Falling, then?” Her words were punctuated with snaps; clacks; scrapes. “Seems like a difficult fear for a pilot to have.”

“That’s not it.” Reyes would never have admitted it, but he wasn’t just uncomfortable. He really was starting to feel scared.

Sara clicked the last component into place, surveying her work critically. The two sleds were plain, but apparently serviceable, because she gave a satisfied nod. She tucked her hair under her collar and pulled her helmet back on, then retrieved Reyes’ from the snowdrift. She handed it back to him, smiling through her visor - but something in his eyes must have given him away. Her smile turned soft and careful.

“We don’t have to do this,” she said gently. “I was glad just to walk up here. It’s beautiful.”

Reyes shook his head. He knew a white lie when he heard one, so he prised his helmet from her hands. He slid it back on, grateful for the little hiss that sounded when the latches resealed - because he suddenly needed a very deep breath.

“We’re up here, aren’t we? Let’s do this.”

Sara’s next smile was a thousand watts. Her movements quick and careful, like a child sharing her favourite game, she positioned her sled at the lip of the hill. She sat down atop it with her feet braced against the forward corners, taking pains to ensure she faced the gentler side of the incline. Craning over, she patted the snow beside her.

Reyes’ heartbeat was rattling his skeleton. He was definitely numb, now, but he could feel a throbbing between his shoulder blades. It was probably just his heart - and it was probably trying to flee.

He dragged his sled over and sat down just like she had. He copied her stance, but he couldn’t still his shaking hands.

Sara clapped him on the shoulder. “Just stay with me.”

Then she was over the edge - and she was gone, streaking away across the snow like a probe through a glittering nebula. For the length of half a heartbeat, Reyes remained frozen.

Fuck it.

He pushed his sled forward, and the decision was suddenly out of his hands. Gravity took over, and he was flying - not really flying, of course; not in the sense that Reyes always had - but the world was eroded in a blur of ice and snow. His heart ceased battering against his spine. It clung to it instead, hanging on for dear life - and Reyes hung on too. He could hear Sara whooping through the comm. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears -

But there was no sudden disaster; no abrupt but expected end. His adrenaline ran its course. Gravity ran its course, too, and the world slowly resumed its shape as Reyes began to slow. He could see Sara waving at him from the bottom of the hill, helmet once again discarded. She was laughing; yelling; cheering - and by the time Reyes slid to a halt beside her, he was laughing too.

“That was great!” she hollered. She was beaming at him, her cheeks even more flushed than before.

Reyes ripped off his helmet and flung himself into the snow beside her. “Shit.”

Sara laughed, clambering over him to lie down at his side. A snowflake landed on his nose, but Sara kissed it away. “Again?”


Survive the Wasteland: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |  Part 5

Shouyou stared in stunned confusion at Kageyama’s back as the other man walked away. Despite vowing to do so many, many times, Kageyama had never truly pushed him away like he had just now. Especially not the evening before he left for a job.

Kageyama had taken several odd jobs here and there since they’d come to Smog City, some of them mundane, and some of them quite dangerous—but if he was leaving Shouyou behind at the hospital, he always gave him a rundown of what he’d be facing, if only to teach him more about the Wasteland. He never seemed threatened or worried.

This time, though—this time Kageyama seemed tense. That was new and unsettling enough to set Shouyou on edge.

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Rewritten, Chapter 13: Link Alone

Read this on Fanfiction.net or Ao3  ➜

He was dreaming. A divine golden light, glittering but out of reach, sat in his mind. And a voice, so familiar but completely strange, piercing through the deep, heavy silence.

“Open your eyes.”

The voice repeated a couple times. He slowly lifted his eyelids.

“Wake up, Link.”

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Soldiers pt. 1 [Yoo Shi Jin]

Originally posted by xithiee

Summary: In which you are recovering from a heartbreak that Yoo Shi-Jin has brought upon you when he accidentally kissed your sister. Becoming the new Captain of Bravo team they make your broken heart full again.

Word Count: 1 410 words

Type: Soldier! Au

Pairings: Reader x Yoo Shi Jin

A/n: I just finished watching DOTS and i’m crying so much. It’s really good and I couldn’t help but fall in love with the characters. The way they portrayed their assigned roles made me fall in love with the show. I wish there will be a season two but knowing Kdramas they mostly just leave it on season 1. Enjoy :) ~ Admin Megan xx

Will be edited later

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sunshine and moonlight | naruhina au | for yuuba

Based on this gorgeous post and my anon ask by/for the stunningly talented @yuuba. I’m so sorry I never went off anon! I was really nervous because I just adore you art work so much! May your days always be full of good health and happiness! I hope this is okay and that everyone enjoys it!! There is more under the cut btw! <3 

She sees bright lights and cityscapes as she gazes upon the earth shrouded by the night. It’s scattered little man-made stars spread across its vast lands like those of the ones which surround her. Sometimes she likes to push the stars around, creating the constellations the earth creatures seem to have a peculiar interest in. She enjoys seeing the happy faces of the children staring in wonder at the bright glow her friends, the stars, emit - though she grows nervous as they point at her, basking in her moonlight as she glides across their skies with a smile adorning her rose lips. Her porcelain, white skin glows with a shy yet wondrous aura and her pearl-like eyes with a slight lavender tint stare upon the beings upon the Earth with much adoration, despite their many faults. Faults which the stars do not hesitate to mention.

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Subject A0: In The Glade [Part 16, Newt’s P.O.V.]


Originally posted by inlovewithbooksandboybands

16/20 of Subject A0: In The Glade [ prev ] [ next ]

“They took everything. They took her whole world. But little did they know that she found a new one in him.” (Newt x Reader)

A/N: Is Y/N ever going to wake up? What happened to Lizzy? // Going to be putting my stories under ‘Read More’ from now on just cause I write lengthy ones (and I finally learned how to do it!!) So hope you like this one! Couldn’t wait to update the story lol

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My Pillow

Character: Jungkook x OC
Genre: Angst/Fluff (Fluff > angst for sure)
Number of words: 1362 words
Summary: Jungkook has a terrible nightmare and you’re there to comfort him, even till the next morning.

Originally posted by hoebi

You awoke deep in the night when Jungkook, your boyfriend of 3 years, started to move around in his sleep, or what seemed more like a nightmare.

He was shaking his head and whimpering, his hand grabbing onto yours tightly, trembling, which mainly had you opening your eyes in the darkness. You turned over to see Jungkook’s eyes shutting tightly and firmly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead and neck.

“Mom, Dad, please..” He begged quietly, eyes still unopened. You shook his hand to try to wake him up, but it failed when he jerked and his whine got a little louder. Tears were now forming in his eyes and your heart clenched to see Jungkook like this.

He was a strong male, and he rarely cried or showed his emotions to anyone but you. Even though you knew him for some time, it was once in a blue moon that you’d see the poor boy crying, and for some reason it always seemed to break your heart.

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The Wrestle, Ch. VI

I’m gonna kiss you
like the sun browns you,
devour me.
I want every other freckle.

If the summer days were blinks that paradoxically lasted for eons and disappeared without warning too quickly, than the winter nights were long sighs that moved along slowly, settled in among the trees and between the houses, on the paths and in the naked branches, and took its time in passing, lasting longer and longer as the season went on. It came in one morning, and frosted the tips of grass and bits of metal along the wall, in the smoke that poured from chimneys and the sun that was just as bright as the day before, but not as fiercely as the summer afternoon. In the few months following the union of the ground and the sky, the world started to chill, started to grow crisp and colourful as the leaves burst aflame and then fall in a cascade of embers and light upon the world.

The summer days of long, unending sun faded and were replaced by nights that were conducive for only a few things, all of which made Lexa extremely satisfied. Things changed in the small bed in Lexa’s quarters. It was usually filled with a blonde, which was a fact the Commander quite enjoyed. She would return from her day and get stories read to her in that voice, and with those absent fingers knitting themselves under her shirt, in her hair. She would get questions answered and ideas explored. She got kisses and she got fire and she got to warm up from the winter outside. She got Clarke’s moans scalding her neck, tangling in her sheets. She saw stars in her own bed, she shook and she thought her body was not her own, and when she regained control, she got Clarke’s smile and eyes and voice. Lexa was torn with how much she loved winter.

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The Wanderer She Met: Part I

A/N: This is this first part in a series about EXO, in which they are a wanderer, searching for their companion. I gained inspiration from the British television show Doctor Who. If you have seen the show, then some of the concepts will be familiar to you. 

New Orleans, 1949

They met on a Wednesday afternoon.

Kai was enjoying a leisurely stroll in the park down the street from his apartment building. It was the middle of October in New Orleans and the leaves on the trees had turned brilliant hues of red, orange, and yellow. The air was crisp and cool, and it filled his lungs in sudden rushes; he’d never felt more clean.

Kai was unsure of what brought him to New Orleans. At first, he guessed it to be the music, but after numerous festivals and sit-ins at late night bars, he was not fully satisfied. He tasted the delicious food and wore the colorful attire, but none of these things satiated him.

Until he met her.

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Unforgettable | 01

WC: 1399
Synopsis: Jimin doesn’t remember you. That is the beginning and the end of it, but you are stubborn and you refuse to believe that a small bump to the head could erase years of feelings. Memories maybe, but never feelings. 
A/N: here is part one. This will probably have one or two more parts after, but I wanted to give you all something before christmas. I hope you enjoy!

He doesn’t remember you. That is the beginning and the end of it, but you are stubborn and you refuse to believe that a small bump to the head could erase years of feelings. Memories maybe, but never feelings. 

Jimin wakes up and he asks who you are. The grip you had on his hand loosens and you rub your sleep muddled eyes with your other hand barely comprehending that he’s finally conscious. It hits you that he’s just asked you a question. You’re selfish enough to have the thought that maybe this is worse than when he wouldn’t wake, but the thought flits away as quickly as it came because you’re too relieved and overwhelmed with gratitude to whatever higher power let him come to again. 

You’re ushered out by a doctor when Jimin gets uncomfortable having a stranger in his room and it has to be explained to him that the stranger is his girlfriend of four years and she’s the closest thing he has to family in the city. He is more amiable after that, but he isn’t your Jimin. He looks at you and you smile, but you see the gears working in his head. There’s no recognition there. 

The doctor tells you that he has posttraumatic amnesia. “Good news,” he says. “He’s only lost a few years.” You hold back from screaming that the years he lost were his years with you. You’re told that it’s possible that his memories will return. It could take as little as a week or a few years - if they return. 

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“Catch, Part 2″  - Kurt/Blaine

The second half of Kurt and Blaine’s Christmas at Hogwarts! (Read that first!)

~3400 words | AO3

“The grounds are so beautiful in winter,” Blaine remarks, gazing up at the snow-capped roofs of Hogwarts Castle.

The sky is a pale gray today, so it isn’t uncomfortably bright outside, and the snowfall from the day before lays undisturbed with the lack of students. There’s a fluffy pile under the spiky boughs of the Whomping Willow where the tree has shaken the excess snow from itself, but other than that, the grounds are pristine. Kurt swings his and Blaine’s clasped hands between them with a happy little sigh. It certainly is picturesque.

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Frostproof (A Clexa Fic)

Summary:  On a snowy hill overlooking Polis, Clarke and Lexa meet underneath some mistletoe.

Word Count: Approx. 2,200

Also available on AO3.

Lexa’s breath misted out and curled upward in wraith-like wisps as she limped up her favorite hill. The frozen path on which she traveled was barely visible in the darkness. But it didn’t matter.  Lexa knew the way by heart, her footing sure and steady as ice-glazed snow crunched beneath her heavy boots. If Anya had been there, Lexa mused, her former mentor likely would have slapped her upside the head with a fistful of snow for her lack of stealth. Smiling to herself, Lexa could practically hear Anya chastising her in a stern voice, “An enraged pauna would make less noise.”

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Age Gap Part 1

 ((Hey Guys! So here is the Beginning to my new fic which very obviously will be talking a bit about the age gap between Marianne and Bog! Its very separate from the others I’ve written so far, but I hope you like it!

I don’t know if there will be NSFW down the line… Maybe, but probably not, it depends on how the story plays out. ))

The days had been too long when Marianne and Bog were apart and too short when they were together. The couple, if that’s what they were, hadn’t spent too much time with one another since the potion incident, and the Princesses father was making a clear point that he didn’t want the two seeing each other at all.

It was at a meeting with the fairy elders that Marianne had finally snapped. The group of old men had been discussing Marianne and Bogs new relationship, and how it could either cripple or benefit the kingdom. They acted like she wasn’t even there, like she was a child they were trying to decide what to do with. On top of that, she’d grown late for a meeting with Bog, and they were clearly aware of it.

“Obviously if the two were to wed a new heir to the throne would need to be chosen,” One of the elders said, gesturing to Dawn, who sat fidgeting with her wings next to Marianne.

“Neither has expressed any desire for…” Her father didn’t want to even say the word; he didn’t want to imagine Bog touching Marianne in general. “Marriage.” He finished after chewing on the word for a moment.

“It’s far too inappropriate, a fairy with a goblin,” someone whispered.

Marianne was about to chime in her opinion, but was cut off by another crusty old man saying, “Even so, the trade routes we could establish with the Goblins could be extremely beneficial, we should consider arranging for the two to have more time to court before we arrange a marriage.”

Marianne cringed, there were too many “arranges” in that sentence. She crossed her arms and leaned back into her chair, knowing that the group wasn’t going to ask her opinion any time soon. She fiddled with the idea of marrying Bog, she couldn’t picture him asking her to marry him, and the image she did come up with was silly, with him fumbling over words and tripping on his toes. She realized she didn’t mind the idea so horribly, if they were to marry though, it would need to be on her terms.

“If the two are to continue in their relationship it will need to be under extreme supervision,” Her father said, looking at her disapprovingly. She snapped out of her day dream and sat up abruptly, slamming her hands on the table. “Excuse me?” she barked, not looking at anyone in particular.

“We do not need a babysitter!” She yelled, “And furthermore,” she stood up, her chair falling backwards behind her. “I find it pretty damned offensive that the lot of you think you can tell me who or what I should marry!” She banged her fist on the table, now looking directly at her father. Dawn jumped, startled at the sound of Marianne’s voice.

“Now Marianne, the grown-ups need to-““Excuse me!?” Marianne repeated, interrupting her father. “I am a full grown fairy, Dad, if you hadn’t noticed; I exited my pupa years about a decade ago!” She flared her wings, standing tall over the table; she heard whispers, people saying she wasn’t very lady like, or that she should mind herself.

“Marianne you’re still so young,” Her father sighed, sitting up straight. Marianne growled down at him, and pushed past Dawn, standing directly in front of him. “I’m 25, Father; I’m quite capable of making my own choices in MY love life.” She had started to shake a bit now, her hands trembling. It wasn’t fear causing her body to react this way, it was thrill, and it was excitement for finally telling her father off. But her body went numb as her father stood up, reached on top of his head and removed his crown.

He looked at it longingly for a moment, before closing his eyes and setting the golden piece on the table. He turned to Marianne, his eyes sad and still, “If you think you know what best… then I guess you don’t need me. I resign.” And he silently exited the room. Leaving the council in awe, and Marianne terrified of what she’d just done.

She slumped down into her father’s chair and took the crown in her hands. No one said anything as the council began to disperse, leaving only Marianne and Dawn sitting; staring, at the crown. At the legacy their father had left them, at the rage Marianne felt at him for being such a coward. At the crown.

Dawn shifted uncomfortably in her seat, waking Marianne up. She clasped the crown, and stood up. “I’ll uh… I’ll be back.” She coughed, and Dawn nodded, understanding. Marianne left, crown in hand, and flew as fast as her wings could carry her in the afternoon air, to the Dark Forest.


It had been a quite morning in Bogs forest. The trees seemed to hum in the morning glow, and the goblins toiled away, working hard in his new castle. Bog seemed almost giddy this morning, and everyone knew why; Marianne was meant to visit today. The air always seemed lighter on days when their lovely Princess came to visit. All the Goblins loved her, and went out of their way to give her every piece of comfort that they could. Bog flitted down the halls of his home, making his way past the kitchen and up through corridor after corridor, to the armory. He had something made for his lovely Marianne, a new sword, to replace the one that was lost in the destruction of his former castle.

The armory was the only room in the entire castle that was made of stone, with large metal pipes that lead out of the room, to the wilderness outside. The room was filled with weapons and armor, lining the walls in a sort of silver glow. A large, frog like goblin sat at the other side of the room on a small wooden stool. He was perched in front of a roaring fire, bits of metal strewn around the stone fire place, and a sort of hanging rack above the furnace. Bog had to duck into the room, the entrance not made for a goblin of his size.

He made his way over to the blacksmith, weaving his way around armor stands and weapon racks until he came to him. “Is it done?” He asked; his face eager and excited. He leaned his staff against the wall, leaning forward. The frog Goblin smiled at his king, a toothy grin, and reached into the fire, pulling out a long silver sword, the tip still red with the utmost heat. The sword represented everything he loved about Marianne. The handle incrusted with polished amethysts, and engraved on it was the pattern of thorns and vines, climbing all the way to the top of the handle. The blade was sharpened to absolute perfection; it could cut a stone with the slightest flick of her wrist.

He reached out and took the sword, balancing it in his hand, weighing it, and then swinging it once in the air. He grinned down at the blacksmith, “Perfect, exactly what I wanted,” he grabbed the swords sheath from the wall and glided it in swiftly. “Tell the kitchen staff to feed you my finest wine, as my thanks,” He said to the goblin, patting him on the head. The goblin nearly squealed with glee, running off to find the cooks.

Bog tied the sword around his hips, a feeling he wasn’t used to. Bog was trained in every kind of weapons, swords, staffs, bows, and anything else you could think of. But it wasn’t a feeling he normally had, having something dangling from his body like that. He grabbed his staff, and walked out of the armory. Marianne would be here soon, and he was more than excited to show her what he’d gotten her.

He fluttered off, taking flight down his halls, and to the throne room, where she’d said they’d meet. The room was empty, as it usually was during this time of day. Bog nervously placed the sword in his lap as he sat down in his throne, smiling around timidly. He waited patiently for Marianne, looking back and forth for her. The throne room had been redone since last she visited. Much to Bogs dismay, Griselda had made it more… red. And purple, and blue, and pink. Shed somehow convinced the palace decorators that Bog wanted the room to look as romantic as possible.

At first Bog had grimaced at the room, but then remembered the last time Marianne had seen something so mushy. She’d torn the room to shreds, and Bog was eager to see her do it again. Bog twiddled his thumbs, beginning to grow anxious. His lady love was growing later and later, and the sun began to rise higher into the sky. She was meant to arrive during the morning times, but the hours were growing late, and Bog was becoming impatient.

There was a soft, barely heard tapping of footsteps heading towards him. He readjusted himself, noticing that he’d begun to slouch and grumble. He sat back up, folding his hands in his lap over the sword, just as someone ran into the room.

“She’s here sire!” Stuff chirped, just as Marianne came strolling into the room. Bog smiled at her, taking her in entirely. Her hair was its usual shade of dark brown, messy and hanging this way and that, and her cheeks were flushed, making her skin seem to glow. She wore a formal outfit, one he hadn’t seen her in before, made of- what appeared to be- morning glories… Or blue bells? Bog didn’t know. He didn’t much care either. All he cared about was seeing her.

But she hadn’t looked up from the golden crown in her hands. Bog didn’t see it at first, looking only into her beauty and realizing how much he’d missed her. But when she had walked to the center of the room, he finally noticed it. He peered at the thing in her hands and it took a moment before he understood entirely what it was. “Is that…” he leaned towards her, his hand out stretched to her. She sighed, her breath breaking as she stepped up the stairs to his throne. She didn’t take his hand, but she didn’t brush it away, she simply stepped into it, close enough now that he could wrap his arm around her waist.

He took the sword from his lap and sat it to the side of his throne, deciding that now was not the time for him to show her his gift. He pulled her closer, staring at the Fairy Kingdoms Crown. “Why do you have this?” He asked as she sat herself on his lap. She wanted to explain how angry she’d gotten, and how rude they had been, but she didn’t have the words for that. She leaned her head against Bogs chest, burying her in his scent, listening to the sound of him breathe through his armor.

“My father resigned,” She finally said through her teeth. “If you can actually do that.”

Bog raised an eyebrow at her, letting out a sort of unbelieving breath.

“I know, I know, he’s just throwing some weird kind of fit. But…” she held the crown in the palm of her hands, staring at the thing like it was some kind of annoying piece of trash that someone had left sitting on the ground. Bog kissed the top of her head, nuzzling into her hair. He wrapped himself around her, one arm still around her waist; he brought the other over her torso, holding her close. He shut his eyes tight, knowing that any second she could be stolen away from him, or go off on some rant about her father. He just wanted to enjoy the softness of her skin against his, the way her hair brushed so gently over his cheeks as he amerced himself in her smell.

“Are you listening to me Bog?” She chuckled, and he realized she’d been talking for a few moments without him responding. He didn’t pull away from her hair, too entranced by it, he simply hummed in response. Marianne smirked, unaware of his extreme fixation with her hair, she placed the crown on top of his head and wrapped her arms around his chest. The crown made him twitch, and groan slightly, but still did not remove his face from her follicles.

“How would you like it…” She whispered, straining to get as close to his ear as possible without removing him from her hair, “If I made you King of both realms?”

Bog inhaled sharply, the idea of ruling over the prissy little fairies giving him an extreme excitement he’d not felt in a while. He imagined using one as a foot stool and his wings quivered a bit. He let a quite laugh slip through his lips before pulling away from her head at last, to look into her eyes. Her face was ablaze, her eyes challenging him to say something, anything, and her body begging for him to pull her tighter too him and beg her to make her his.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” He finally asked, almost a growl to his voice. She leaned away a moment before sliding her knees onto either side of his legs, and wrapping her arms around his neck. Sliding his hands around onto her waist, avoiding her wings, he placed his hands on either side of her hips.

“Because with a dowry like that how am I to refuse?” His voice was deep as he said it, and brought his face close in to Marianne’s, closing his eyes but not quite kissing her, almost teasing her. His voice sent shudders through her entire body, echoing in her ears as she closed her eyes too. She slid further onto his lap, their bodies leaning into each other, and everything went quiet as he brushed his lips against hers, pecking her at first, but then passionately diving into her lips. The kiss was hot and fast, and when the two pulled away they were near breathless. But Marianne whispered, “Is that a yes?” causing Bog to laugh, and clear his throat.

“I got you something.” He said, trying to steer the conversation away from a lustful afternoon on his throne.

Marianne tilted her head forward, her forehead pressed against his, the Fairy Kings crown still resting upon his head, bumped into her. She opened her eyes to find him gazing into her own, his blue irises dilating as he gazed upon her face. He reached over, removing his hold on her, and grabbing the sword he’d laid next to the throne. She watched, and then giggled, and then began to bounce up and down as he brought the sword between them.

“You got me a sword?!” She squealed, holing her hands above it. He’d never seen her react this way, it reminded him strongly of Dawn when she was under the potion, or just Dawn in general. “Your old one was destroyed in the attack on my home, sooo I had my blacksmiths make you a new one.” He said, handing her the iron sword. “Consider it an early wedding present.”

She jumped off his lap, sword in hand, and threw the sheath aside, exposing the newly crafted weapon. “It may still be warm from this morning, they just finished it.” He said, pushing himself up and off his seat. He twirled his staff in between his long fingers, and then pounded it on the ground, putting his weight on it. “But if you’re up for it-“He was cut off by Marianne already swinging the sword at his staff, knocking him over.

He fell to the ground, and Marianne held the tip of her new sword to his throat. “I dunno, are you?” she challenged him. Bog smiled, and knocked the sword away from his throat with his staff, flying back up to his feet, and aiming the tip of the staff at her. “Come and get me, tough girl,”

James' Most Moving Travel Memories - Sunset On Mt. Everest

    Towards the end of my travels in 2009, I was passing through Tibet on my way to Nepal. I had 6 months of rough travel behind me, backpacking through the islands of Indo, the jungles of South East Asia and the plains of China before rising up onto the dry Tibetan Plateau.
    My route had taken in 8 countries, numerous cultures and a myriad of different sights and experiences, all of which had left their mark on me. I felt like a thoroughly changed man, at one with new cultures, and home was far from my mind. I was entirely immersed in the traveller’s life. I had latched onto a group of travellers and we were in a beaten up old 4x4, driving across the Tibetan landscape for a week before we neared the trail to Everest Basecamp, the final stop before we crossed the Himalayan border into Nepal.

(Crossing Tibet)

    The drive up to basecamp was a zigzag slog up rocky hills for hours on end. I watched the sun dip low in the sky as we climbed the scree mountainside before finally popping up over the crest of a hill and entering the mouth of a valley with a little stream running down its dusty centre.

(The climb up to basecamp)

    We followed this stream (its source being the glaciers on Everest) towards a small huddle of tents in the distance, Everest’s North Face basecamp. Beyond these tents the valley continued higher and higher, with its far end cloaked in low clouds.

(Clouds concealing the mountain)

    Upon arrival at basecamp, we dropped our backpacks in a spacious cloth tent that we rented for the night. The sun was dropping below the tops of the mountains at this point, bathing them in a deep orange glow while the valley floor grew cold and dark in the shade of the mountains on either side.

(The dying sun on the surrounding mountains)   

    The clouds had still not cleared, so we warmed our feet by the yak dung stove and drank cups of salty yak butter tea with the owner of our tent, a young, rosy cheeked Tibetan lady with a baby strapped on her back.

(The inside of our tent at basecamp)

    After one too many cups of tea, I had to step out of the tent to take a piss, and that’s when I saw Mt. Everest for the first time.

    The clouds at the end of the valley were drawing back, cleared away as if some unseen hand was tearing them away like pieces of cotton wool. The north face of the mountain was sheer and craggy, a patchwork of dark and imposing rock, and brilliant pearl white ice, rising high up into the inky sky. The last rays of the sun were already fading, but held enough power to light the mountain in orange and gold.

(Sunset on the highest point in the world)

    It was magnificent, words truly don’t do it justice. The air was still and icy cold, and there was no sound. Only the crunch of gravel as I sat down outside the tent served to break that still silence, the kind of silence you only get at altitudes so high that there is nothing living to make a sound. In this moment I suddenly missed my home. I missed my girlfriend, who I had not been entirely faithful to on my travels, I wished she could have been there with me to experience that awe. I was humbled by it all, finding it difficult to bear the weight of all that emotion by myself. I needed someone to share it with me. I just sat there and watched as the colours on the face of that great mountain changed from gold to orange to purple, until the first cold stars started twinkling in the indigo sky above. As the sun’s light finally died, the mountain looked cold and ghostly under the light of the newly risen moon. The sky filled with stars and the Milky Way painted a glittering stripe over the tip of the dark mountain’s silhouette. I sat there well into the night and watched as the stars turned in the sky above that immovable, looming mountain top.

(The view up the valley from basecamp the next morning)

    So began a love affair with Mt. Everest and the Himalayas in general, that has seen me visit Everest’s South face in the years since. However that first unveiling, when the clouds cleared in a valley in Tibet, remains one of the most moving moments of my life. I know I’ll return there one day.

how long can we keep this up?

A/N: Inspired by a Friday Headcanon Night thing that I submitted so, like, blame that for allllll of this. 

Clarke came home two hundred and sixty two days later.

(Bellamy had been counting, of course, marking the days with tallies on one of the walls protecting the camp, but so had Clarke, so - fair’s fair.)

That day was warm and bright, a dusting of clouds meandering across a clear blue sky, and a slow, hesitant smile tugged at her lips when she saw what they had built (what he had built) while she had been away. The camp structures were tall and looming and sturdy, and there were armed sentries at even post intervals, and she could hear the noise and laughter and life bubbling inside the walls. 

She wasn’t even thinking when she stumbled her way out of the woods, eyes drinking in the entirety of what had been created in her absence, but then she heard the guns being loaded and the loud bellow of someone telling her to stop right there and put her hands up, and the grin grew impossibly wider, because they were learning

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so, there’s all this talk of an upcoming fitzsimmons-make-some-flipping-progress scene. I decided to have a go at writing one I wouldn’t mind watching! It was all fluffy and fun but then I stumbled upon this from @agl03 and it took a decidedly angsty turn!

In the aftermath, Fitz had caught her sitting on a crate watching the containment unit warily. She didn’t know why. Giyera was dead at last thanks to May, but seeing him again had put her on edge.

He had leaned over her shoulder, his voice gentle. “Why don’t you get your notes and go sit in the cabin. I’ll bring us some tea and we can work there for a while.”

She gave him the closest approximation of a smile she could manage and immediately grabbed her notebook and pen, getting up to follow his suggestion. Anything but dwell on what that monster had done to her.

The cabin’s neutral colours - white, tan, beige - were set alight by the sun streaming in through the unshaded windows, a relief in contrast to the tense darkness and flashing red lights of the control room. She collapsed into a large window seat, gazing out over the altocumulus and vaguely wondering what part of the globe went on with its business far below.

Fitz appeared a minute later, depositing two steaming mugs of tea onto the table between them and sliding his laptop out from under his arm. He sank into the chair opposite, opened his computer and started tapping away.

Jemma reached out for her mug and brought it close, holding it against her chest for warmth. She could feel the steam rising under her chin.

For a moment, she let herself just observe the man opposite her while he was deeply absorbed in his work.

The sunlight hit his golden brown hair and the scruff on the right side of his face, setting the scattered red strands on fire. When his eyes focused towards the top of the screen she could see the intensity of that blue, made all the more vivid by the reflection of the sky.

Whenever he stopped typing to think, he sat back, absentmindedly chewing his bottom lip and massaging his bad hand. He eventually looked up and caught her watching him.

“Does anyone ever come in here?” she asked, fishing for conversation.

Fitz shrugged. “I think May sat in here once - that time we picked her up from Maui. Other than that I guess we’re all usually too busy in the control room or with the containment units. It’s there or the bunks.” He watched her a moment, perceptive as always. “You okay?” he asked.

She nodded, trying to smile again.

“I’m sorry, Jemma,“ said Fitz softly. “I hate that you had to see him again.”

Jemma shrugged. “It’s better now that I know he’s gone.”

Fitz silently watched her a moment longer as if trying to make a decision. At last he spoke.

“I designed that seat for you, you know.”

Jemma’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“That seat. By the window. It was the first thing I marked on my original blueprint. I planned everything else around it.”

She blinked a few times. “You planned this seat for me?”

“You were gone.” His voice wavered. “You were gone and Coulson tried to distract me. He tasked me with building this.” Fitz casually waved his hand to indicate everything that currently held them thirty-nine thousand feet in the air. “So I started with that seat and worked my way out.”

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Sweet 16

Request: Hi! My name is Sam (Samantha) and I’m turning 16 on January, 22 and I’m asking if you can write a one shot on Y/N turning 16 and Dean gets you a car(Preferably vintage) and Sam convinces Dean that we get a dog (Large white mutt because that’s what my dog is :) ) Thanks!!! I absolutely LOVE your blog and I re-read everything at least 10 times and I’m just in love with your writing. :) <3

Word Count: 4601 (notevensorry)

Theme Song: Pumpin Blood by NONONO

WARNINGS: Swearing, Family!FluffyFluff

*Not my Gifs*
Author’s Note: Happy Sweet 16th Birthday! I hope it was as good as mine! I hope you enjoy this, I had a fun time writing it, and wanted it to make you smile! Additionally, I don’t know how everyone else’s winter is at this moment, but mind is VERY mild. We only have frost and rain at the moment.. Also, I made the date personal to the request, but a little imagination goes a long way (:

There you were.. Sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee, all alone. On your 16th Birthday. Sam and Dean were still snoozing into the morning light, along with Kevin. He laid passed out on the couch in the war room; bottle in one hand – angel tablet in the other.

Turning 16 was a big thing for you. Finally being able to drive – Legally.. Of course you would need a car first.. Which you don’t have. The bunker’s garage was filled with them, but they were broken down or manual drive only. Still, the fact the Sam and Dean – Mainly Sam – forgot, was agitating. An unknown rage increased as you sat there, mucking in a party of one.

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Beach Week — Kris x Reader || Requested by haneulah

Summary: You and Kris rent a beach cottage together and after lots of splashing and fun at the beach, you decide to have some fun inside.

Rating: S ( smut )

Word Count: 2,177

Writer’s Note: I’m getting to a bunch of requests I had like, a year ago. I’m so sorry. I’m making them as amazing and long as possible to help make up for it ;;

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