constant failing

Games and Piercings (Voltron Langst One-Shot)

Based on the prompt by @ohwhataprettypinkhat ! Please do enjoy!

           Lance had a game as a child, being the middle child. He really didn’t get too much attention from anyone except for the stray little one or two. Or when something drastic happened to him, like a broken limb or something. Which is why he created the game. Whenever he would talk, and he would notice someone not listening. He’d say something crazy. He’d remembered one time specifically. He was maybe eight at the time. With a gap-toothed grin and a mint green band-aid on his cheek as he babbled to his mother. Wild hand gestures and crazy exaggerations as she chopped vegetables at the stove. He remembered her nodding along, humming ‘yes’s and ‘okay dear’s every so often as he paused.

           “Hey Mama, I’m going to go off to war and break my arm, okay? A hum.

           “Okay mijo, go have fun.” Lance frowned before he stumbled off. Later that day he did actually break his arm. His friend’s mom had to call the ambulance and Lance’s mother hadn’t even know he was at the hospital when his friend’s mother drove him home and talked to Lance’s mother herself. Lance had smiled as he was smothered with attention and love from Garcia’s mother. But, it wasn’t his mother’s attention. It wasn’t the attention he wanted.

           They’d never notice.

           Even when he went off to Garrison, the game continued. Telling instructors he was going to go clubbing. Or that he was off to become a rebel fighter. Giving loud, exuberant stories about sailing the seas. Hell. He told his best friend Hunk he was going to go throw himself off the Garrison room. All he got was a absent minded smile and a ‘okay, see you at curfew.’ Lance wasn’t even sure Hunk had heard the leaving part.

           Then he was a paladin. One of five defender of the universe, fighting an intergalactic war. He was the first one chosen in over ten thousand years. And still, when he’d make jokes, or give his serious opinions. No one heard him. After so many years of the same game, he’d finally gotten bored. So, Lance did the only logical thing.

           Change up the rules.

           Allura was one of the few who noticed him, so she helped him out with his little game. Smiled when he told her the rules. How he’d say crazy things to see if someone was listening. Except for now, just like that one time when he was eight. He’d actually do them. And see how long it took for them to notice the changes.

           First was with Pidge, he’d sat in a room with her for three hours. Talking loudly and in great detail about the new blue highlights he was going to get in his hair when they stopped off in the next planet. How they’d be blue and teal and he was going to look like a god damn gorgeous fucking mermaid. Pidge only ignored him, only noticing and greeting him with a ‘huh?’ after three hours of Lance talking. The reason she noticed him was because Allura had entered the room and called his name.

           He’d gotten his hair dyed on that planet, just as he said he would. And no one noticed.

           The next one was his first ear piercings, he had been sparring with Keith, spouting nonsense as they fought in hand to hand combat. Lance was losing pretty much the entire time. But Lance knew that wasn’t anything new. Keith barely could tell the difference from fighting a training bot from fighting Lance. He got his piercing the very next day. Allura had done them herself. After one of their self-care and venting sessions.

           And it just spiraled from there. Hunk was cooking one day as Lance was drawing and talking about a tattoo of the ocean themed Lion he was going to get to cover most of his upper left arm. Shiro was his verbal bouncy wall for both his right eyebrow piercings. Pidge, that was his tongue piercing. Keith caused his lip piercings, both of them. Hunk had driven him for the belly button piercing. Shiro had gotten him the star tattoos on the corner of his right eye. It was fun yeah, Lance loved the little changes in himself. Each one gave him confidence in his appearance, but they also hurt him.

           It was like a reminder. Each thing he got was a time he was ignored. Rejected and alone. There were like constant reminders of his failings to get the attention he craved. Even Allura was getting agitated. Assuring him that she always noticed when he added the more noticeable things, and being surprised and often delighted and intrigued to see the more obscure and hidden changes. Lance always smiled when she fiddled with his new piercings, buying him new shiny ones that she matched with her own ear piercings, when she admired the progress he made in training, or when she traced his new tattoos with delicate nails. In return he always helped to braid her hair, painted her nails. Hell, he’d learned how to speak Altean for her. She was like the doting big sister he’d always wanted. He’d always craved to have.

           Most of the time, it was able to shove away all of the bad thoughts. Enough to stave off the personal demons inside of him. Clawing at him and constantly nagging at him. Reminding him that he was just a speck in the universe. That he could die one day, and there would be not a single person to mourn his death or go to his funeral.

           Those thoughts hurt. Until eventually, they didn’t. Soon the buzzing thoughts became normal in the back of his mind. Fading to silence as his excitement and live retreated in the castle. Being reserved for celebrations on saved planets, or for the Alteans that paid him attention and treated him like the family he saw them as. The paladins only seeing the bored, indifferent side that Lance adopted to deal with the people who no longer seemed to even care what he did.

           At least, he thought they didn’t, but by the time they did notice he didn’t care whether they did or not.

           It was a planet with a higher rate of gravity and magnetic activity. Gahtic’al or something? It wasn’t in a tongue that Allura talked about very often, but Lance was sure he’d get it by the time he meant the natives. The only thing he recognized as noteworthy was as Pidge announced they’d have to get rid of any metal they carried on them. Lance’s eyebrow raised up. His tongue running over and rubbing against the metal in his mouth. He almost felt anxious. It’d been a while since his skin had been bare of piercings. But, Lance knew he’d have to take them out as he watched even Keith give up his knifes. Lance sighed as he stepped up.

           His hands were already reaching to his ears to take off his piercings in his ears when he felt eyes on him. Shiro was gapping at him as he pulled more and more metal off of his face. Then incredulous as Lance even pulled up his shirt to get off his belly button piercing. Shiro studied Lance up and down. There was three holes in each of Lance’s ears, one industrial bar, and two piercing holes in his right eyebrow. Snake bites, a belly button piercing. Were those tattoos on his skin too?! Shiro gaped. He. When? Lance. Who cared more about his skin and hair than he cared about his health, had piercings and tattoos? And dye in his hair?! Shiro looked around, seeing more dazed and staring paladins. Guessing he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t noticed. Maybe it had happened recently? Shiro looked back to Lance, who looked calm and relaxed. Shiro was in awe.

           The boy looked so different. His body was stronger than Shiro remembered it to be, it was still lean. But with obvious strength, power, and muscle tone that didn’t compromise the litheness of his figure. His hair was brown with shimmering hues of blue and teal that framed his tan and tattooed skin perfectly. His face was set in a neutral expression. Not unfriendly, more of a calm blankness that looked like it could change into the most heart warming smile, or the scariest glare in the world. With a sharp jawline and the soft glowing blue lights of the ship, Lance looked striking, almost ethereal. With sharp royal blue eyes that were trained on a smiling Allura. What the princess did next surprised Shiro.

           “Lance, your tongue piercing too?” Lance seemed to gauge her words for a moment before he got them. Immediately sticking out that long tongue, revealing a thick black metal piercing straight through Lance’s tongue. Causing Shiro to catch a noticeable shudder run through Keith. Almost making him smirk. Keith always had a thing for the blue paladin. And a thing for piercings. Keith had to be in heaven. But, how long had Lance had these piercings? Was Shiro so caught up in training and leading that he hadn’t notice so many drastic changes in one of his paladins? Lance grinned at Allura.

           “Thanks princess.” Pidge was the first one to talk, pointing accusingly at Lance.

           “What?! When did this happen?!” Lance quirked an eyebrow at Pidge, the expression on his face was friendly, but didn’t hold that same joking light it once did. Now it just seemed like a cool neutrality, as if he’d just noticed Pidge’s shock.

           “What? The tongue piercing? I got that…” Lance frowned and looked to Allura, [When did I get the tongue piercing again?] Shiro gaped as fluid Altean language left Lance’s lips, as if he’d spoken the language his whole life. The other paladins’ reactions were much the same as Allura answered back.

           [I’d say, eight months ago? Your newest thing was the industrial bar, which was about six months ago, and the tongue piercing was about two months before that. Didn’t you get it at that at the market place on Shero’sic?] Lance nodded.

           “Yup. I remember now. It was eight months ago. Remember? Because I got it shortly after my face tattoos.” Allura nodded.

           “Mmm, I still like your arm tattoo. But the stars are quite quaint.” Lance’s fingers brushed the two small stars just at the outer corner of his right eye. Bringing Shiro’s attention to the little stars that almost looked like beauty marks next to Lance’s almost glowingly blue eyes. Lance placed the peicings into a small bag for safe keeping and handed them to Allura to put with their other metal objects while they landed on the planet. Lance looked back at them expectantly.

           “Well? Don’t we have a job to do?” And Lance walked away from them with Allura, leaving four shocked and confused paladins in his wake. Just what happened to their blue paladin? When had his body changed so much. So drastically in front of them without notice? When had he matured into such a strong young man? Calm and patient. The gleam and innocence of a child no longer in his eyes.

           What had they done to him?

You wanted Part 2? You get Part 2


Drabble Part 2/5

A/N: It’s so strange… I’ll be writing something super sad one second, then something super fluffy the next. Drabbles are weird. XD

Words: 3440

11. (Arno Dorian)

It was a grueling truth, the reality that you may very well die. You looked down at your crimson stained hands, the heat of the thick liquid contrasting with your rapidly cooling body. Death was holding you in its crushing grip, dragging you down, and somehow you were still holding on. Because of him, you realized. You were holding on for Arno.

“Just a little while longer.” He rasped, his feet heavy against the stone rooftop as he shifted you uncomfortably in his arms. Every movement had you crying out, jolting the fiery pain to life. If it wasn’t for the startling fear in Arno’s eyes, you were positive you would’ve already been amongst the dead. But you couldn’t leave him. Your head lolled against his chest, eyelids heavy as you began drifting off. “No,” Arno’s shout startled you back into semi-consciousness. “I’m not losing you today, you hear me?” A hum left your parted lips as you held onto him tightly. Just a little bit longer… “Please,” he begged, the wind whipping against your face as he sprinted even faster, pushing himself to the max. “Don’t leave me like this.”

“Arno,” you choked, your vision swimming. You just needed to hold on… Just… His worried voice was drowned out by the blood rushing around your mind, your heart slowing in your chest. Maybe if you just closed your eyes…

12. (Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad)

“Wait,” he growled, pulling you back as you jumped. You fell into his hard body, both of you hitting the ground painfully.

“What?” You seethed as quietly as you could, your eyes flickering between him and your target as you stood back on your feet, dusting yourself off.

“You can not go yet.” He explained as if it made total sense to pull you back from the man who was in perfect position for your blade.

“I need to go,” you argued, pointing down at your target. “If he moves, it will be too hard to find another place to strike. Now is the perfect opportunity.”

“Have you learned nothing?” He hissed, hand tight on your white robes. “What would you do after you had taken his life?”

“I would run there.” You pointed to the stacked boxes that stopped about halfway to the top of a nearby building. “Then I would wait in the hay cart on the other side of the building. After I can scale that building and move along the rooftops silently and efficiently.” You stated dryly, knowing that there was nothing for him to argue. Unfortunately, he was stubborn.

“And what if you get caught by them?” He gestured to two rather large guards waiting by the exit of the alley you were in. “You could not fight them off.” Ouch.

“Are you questioning my ability, Altaïr?” Your voice was laced with annoyance, his haughty tone doing nothing to quell your anger. You’d trained for the majority of your life and you were confident in your abilities.

“That is not what I meant.” He backtracked, hands held up in surrender. “I only mean that you could get injured or worse.”

“That’s part of being an Assassin.” You retorted, watching as his jaw tensed beneath the shadow of his hood.

“Just,” he paused, almost as if he didn’t think he should finish, “be careful.” Half of your mouth tilted up in a smile, a hand pulling your hood down to obscure your face.

“I always am.”

13. (Ezio Auditore)

You sighed heavily into the shining, noon sky. Rome was bustling below, the yells of merchants and buyers alike ringing throughout the heat of day. Pulling both knees to your chest, you watched as men and women prepared for the event to come. You really didn’t want to go to this ball, but your father hadn’t given you much of a choice. There was a sudden change in the atmosphere; where the sun had once shone, a shadow now cast over.

“Ezio,” you greeted stiffly, not bothering to look up at the Assassin.

“What are you doing up here?” He asked, taking a seat next to you. You sent a half smile in his direction, your hands playing with your white robes.

“I needed time to think.”

“For the ball,” Ezio nodded, his muscles tensing. “What happened to your date?” His voice was bitter, a scowl on his scarred lips. That gave you pause, your lips turning up in realization.

“You’re jealous!” You laughed, his scowl deepening at your accusation.

“I am not.” He argued. Continuing to chuckle, you stood up with your hands on your hips.

“You, Ezio Auditore, are jeal-” Your sentence was cut off with a squeak as your back hit the stone tiles roughly, wide eyes looking up to Ezio.

“I am not jealous.” His eyes were like fire, burning every bit of your body they went over. He jerked you up, dropping his mouth against yours vigorously. You moaned against the heat of him, his tongue thrusting in between your lips at the movement. Everything suddenly felt too hot, his hands roaming all over your body with determined curiosity. When he finally felt satisfied, he stood up, leaving you lying on the ground and breathing heavily. You followed his movements a moment afterwards, watching him curiously. He hadn’t moved, instead observing you as his fingers slid along his lips, almost as if just realizing what he’d done. You wanted him, needed him to repeat his actions.

“Jealous,” you breathed, laughing as you took off across the rooftop. You didn’t even have to hear his steps heavy against the stone to know he was following.

14. (Shay Cormac)

The hand on your hip wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it wasn’t the one you wanted. The blue eyes shining beneath the lights, crinkled up as he laughed, were not the ones you wished to stare into. The crisp accent that sounded whenever he spoke wasn’t the one you needed to hear. But it didn’t matter. Shay wasn’t there, and even if he was, he would never think of you the same way you thought of him. He was too guarded, too untrusting to allow you that close to him. A soft groan left your parted lips as you tried to tune into the conversation once again. He was talking about trading stuff, at least you thought he was. He could also be talking about his family. You hadn’t the slightest, and honestly, you couldn’t care less. You were scanning the area, your eyes attempting to adjust to the overly bright lights. They really did try too hard at these things. That was when you spotted the dark gaze, looking to you with more intensity than you’d ever seen before. You wanted to call to Shay, but you were cut off before you could start by lips upon your own. It took you by surprise, prompting you to stand absolutely frozen for a whole minute. It wasn’t right, the person you wanted more than anything not being the one moving against your lips. By the time you actually realized what was happening, the man had been thrown off of you by your leather clad savior.

“Shay,” you breathed, watching him intently. He ignored the gasps of the crowds, picking you up with a stiff arm beneath your legs and one behind your back. His movements were swift and silent, that of a trained killer. Your eyes were on his jaw, clenched with tension. Despite how angry he seemed to be, his hands were still holding you as gently as possible. “Shay,” you ground out, trying to understand what he was doing. He slammed you against the side of the estate, keeping you trapped in between his arms while his knee came up to rub in between your legs.

“You’re mine.” He growled, hands working furiously on removing your clothing. You shivered, whether from the actual cold or Shay’s expression, you weren’t entirely sure.

15. (Shay Cormac)

The clatter of your sword hitting the stone reverberated throughout the night sky, weighing down on the two of you like you were carrying the world itself. Your eyes were heavy, reality finally dawning on you. No matter what he’s done, no matter how long he’s been away, you can’t hurt him. You dropped your head, your arms laying limply by your sides.

“I can’t,” you whispered, not daring to look up to him. “I won’t,” you stated louder than before. His leather boots groaned against the cobblestone as he walked towards you, the sound of metal on metal as he re sheathed his blades. A heavy, warm hand rested on your shoulder, prompting you to look into his dark gaze. His eyes were shining with pain, hurt etched across his expression.

“I never wanted to do this.” His voice was barely audible above the distant sounds of the city, the happy cheering only furthering the dampened mood. “I was forced to.” You lifted a hand, placing it ever so softly against his heated cheeks.

“It’s okay,” you soothed, a hand raking through his dark hair as he buried his head into your chest, wrapping you in a tight embrace. “It’s okay,” you repeated again, his hot tears rolling down your chest. You closed your eyes against the wave of emotion, holding him even closer.

“He wants you dead,” he muttered against your skin, his tears still wet against your clothing.

“I know.” And you did. Haytham Kenway had every reason to want you dead. You were an Assassin who had gotten in his way more than enough times to pose a threat. Although, you looked down at the top of Shay’s head, moonlight reflecting off the black tresses, you would never pose a threat to him. You never could; Templar or not, you loved the man.

“I love you,” he said lowly, almost as if reading your thoughts.

“And I love you.” Slowly, he pulled back from your embrace, keeping his eyes locked with yours.

“Go,” he whispered, “Please.” His voice was broken, face twisted in pain. “I can’t…” He trailed off, looking to the ground shamefully. “Please don’t make me hurt you.”

“I won’t,” you promised. “But, Shay, I don’t wish to leave you.”

“I’ll find you again,” he stood a little straighter, determination lacing his tone. “I’ll find you when this is all over and I swear to you, I will make this right.” You nodded, backing away from him. “Just don’t forget me.” His voice was carried by the wind as you ran, your vision blurring with the onslaught of tears and your heart breaking within your chest.

16. (Edward Kenway)

Admittedly, you’d had way too many drinks. But hey, the suave captain sure as hell didn’t seem to be complaining. In fact, he almost seemed to be enjoying it. It’s not like you were doing anything that different than normal, you were just a little less reserved. Your touches lingered a little longer, your words purposely holding double meanings. You couldn’t help it, you were much too drunk and he was much too attractive. You took another swig of your rum, laughing at something one of the drunken crew members said.

“Hand me a little more rum, lass.” Edward whispered, his lips moving against your ear. You shivered, smiling at his wink as you picked up a tankard of rum. You placed a hand on his upper thigh, leaning across the table to hand him the drink. His eyes followed you, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he watched you hungrily.

“This what you want?” You asked, shifting more weight onto the hand on his thigh while simultaneously moving it higher. His throat bobbed as he swallowed roughly, his hand taking the drink from you and placing it on the table.

“Oh, you are just asking for it now.” His voice was husky, causing you to bite your lip while thoughts of him using that tone in other, more pleasurable, scenarios assaulted your mind. He leaned forward again, all the sounds and smells of the tavern drifting away as his breath danced around your cheek. He was speaking, telling you something, but you were too focused on the smell of salt, leather, and alcohol emanating from him. He pulled back, a smirk on his face and primal intent shining in his crystal orbs. Unfortunately, you didn’t hear a word he said. Deciding to take a chance, you squeezed his thigh and sent a wink, abandoning the table in favor of leaving the stuffy pub. You weren’t certain he followed you, at least not until you felt the gentle yet firm hand against the small of your back.

17. (Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad)

Your scowl deepened at the look of disappointment in his eyes, your arms unconsciously crossing over your chest despite the ache of protest from your ribs.

“I was doing my job.” You stated curtly, moving your gaze from the Master Assassin. He was angry with you, even though he shouldn’t be. You’d only done what was asked of you; nothing more and nothing less.

“You almost got yourself killed,” he argued, a clamp sounding as he took a step forward. “You were meant to finish your target, not die.”

“I didn’t die.” You ground out, motioning wildly to yourself. You clenched your jaw at the pain that came with the action. “I’m still alive, see?”

“You were barely alive when you stumbled back here.” Both hands held tightly onto the sheets, your eyes diverting down. Maybe you had been a little reckless, but it wasn’t on purpose. You hadn’t meant to get yourself nearly killed. It was entirely an accident. “Did you ever think of how that would make me feel?” Your head snapped up, jaw dropped as he continued in the most irritated of tones. “Do you know what I’d do if you died? If I never saw you again?” He was getting more and more hysterical with each word, finally abandoning talking in favor of wrapping both arms around your upper half. “I thought I’d lost you.” You closed your eyes, softly raking a hand through his hair.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

18. (Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad)

His eyes were on you like an eagle readying himself for the kill. You had no idea what you’d done to make Altaïr so angry, but it was almost scary. Although, the intensity that you were sure was meant to intimidate you, just aroused you further. He was an attractive man; anybody could see that. But it was more than just his looks that aroused you, it was the way he acted so confidently. Unfortunately, that confidence was giving you pause at the moment. He seemed so sure about something, so angry about whatever it was. So much so that it had you thinking back to every single wrong thing you’d ever done to the man. The list was quite short and none of them happened recently, but still, something was on his mind. You were snapped out of your reverie when a hand whipped out of nowhere, tugging you into a bedroom. Your back was slammed against rough stone, eyes wide as you looked to your hooded assaulter. Altaïr’s muscles were stiff, his frame trapping you against the wall.

“Altaïr,” you breathed, not sure if you should be relieved it was him or only more alert.

“(Y/N).” His voice was strange, the underlying tension bubbling to the surface.

“What are you doing?” You inquired, watching him as his gaze moved down your body slowly.

“I’m sick of watching silently as you tease me everyday.” He growled, eyes blazing.

“Wha-” He cut you off, lips rough against your own. You were frozen, lips parted and eyes still open. Taking the opportunity, he slipped his velvety tongue inside your mouth, hands tightening on your wrists. He tasted of mint and cinnamon and tentatively, you responded to his kiss causing him to drop your hands in favor of holding your face between his palms as he explored your lips with fervor. You were practically putty in his hands, following every one of his bold movements. He didn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon, his body touching every bit of your own. And, you leaned into his touches, you couldn’t be more glad.

19. (Shay Cormac)

Your combined laughs echoed around the hall as you continued walking down the wooden walkway, Shay by your side. The two of you were reminiscing of past times, something you did quite often, as you made your way to your respective bedrooms. It was a rather nice inn, one that Haytham no doubt picked out. He could be a little… overly grand at times. Oh well, you looked to the Irishman with shining eyes, you’d endure anything Haytham could throw at you so long as you got to spend time with Shay. He smiled warmly back, watching you curiously as you moved to open your door.

“No, that’s the wrong- oh, dammit.” Your eyes were wide, Shay standing directly behind you. It was like everyone was frozen, Hickey looking quite mad as he looked over the woman on top of him to you guys. Your mouth was opening and closing, nothing coming out of it as you just simply shorted out.

“What the ‘ell.” Hickey yelled, glaring at you two.

“I, uh,” Shay tugged at your arm, slamming the door shut to close off the view. “Oh my God,” you laughed, a hand over your mouth as you doubled over. Shay’s chuckle was much deeper as he pulled you down to where your room actually was. “I did not expect that.” Shay was shaking his head, eyes shining with amusement.

“You shouldn’t expect anything less than that from Hickey, lass.” He laughed, warm hand on your shoulder.

“What about from you?” You questioned boldy, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Aye, you could expect more.” His voice was soft, his hand moving from your shoulder to your cheek gently.

“Then show me.” You challenged.

20. (Connor)

It was too hot, the sheets too uncomfortable against your skin, but you couldn’t move. Not because you were afraid of waking Connor up, but just because you genuinely couldn’t move. He had you wrapped in his two strong arms, one leg thrown over yours, and his head tucked into your neck. Not only that, but he slept like a bear.

“Connor,” you growled, trying to wiggle your way out of his hold. He held on strong, his grip tightening the more you moved. “Dammit, Connor, wake up!” You yelled, flopping around in his arms like a fish out of water. You kept yelling his name, pushing as best you could from inside his embrace, but nothing seemed to be working. “Ratohnhaké:ton,” you screamed, kicking your legs around.

“What?” He questioned, one brown eye peeking open to observe you.

“Move. Over.” You replied, pushing him back.

“Keep still,” he argued, cuddling back into you.

“Connor,” you whined, continuing to move in his embrace. “It’s hot.” This time both eyes opened, his arms holding you even tighter.

“I wish to hold you.” He whispered, a red tint staining his cheeks. That took you by surprise.

“I’m still going to be right here.” You shrugged, watching him curiously. He looked oddly distressed at the thought of having to let you go.

“I know, I just…” he muttered, trailing off when he thought it necessary. You lifted a hot palm to his warm cheeks, a small smile on your lips.

“What’s wrong, Ratohnhaké:ton?” For a second, he didn’t look as if he was going to answer, his eyes flitting down to where your bodies were touching.

“Before I met you, I thought I’d have to be alone. And,” the intensity in his gaze when he looked up was startling, “I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be without you.” Your heart clenched painfully, both arms coming up to wrap around his neck.

“I will never leave you.” You promised, resting your forehead against his. “So long as I walk this Earth, I will always love you, Ratohnhaké:ton.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, head moving up and down with his nod.

“May I please hold you?” He asked, voice light. It may be hot as hell, but you weren’t about to deny him that.

“Always,” you whispered, burying your head into his chest. You could feel his smile as he placed a kiss to the top of your head, the soft pitter-patter of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. Before you drifted off, you heard him speak, tone barely audible.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

Sitting down to work and suddenly hearing “Hey, you’re not busy, can you-” from the doorway

Originally posted by slytherin-bookworm-guy

Can You Be a Good Boy, Max?

-An alternate view of Episode 8 if Max had gone to get his bear himself

“Little Maxwell?” Pikeman smiled as his two lackeys drug the small boy into their tent.

“Give it up! I want it back and I want it fucking now!” Max yelled, grunting as he was thrown to the ground.

Pikeman walked over to the desk in the far corner of his tent, holding up the mentioned item by the scruff of it torn neck, stuffing falling to the floor.

“Oh this? This is just trash, what could you possibly want with this.”

Max ran for it, jumping to snatch his poor bear from the acne covered freak, but was kicked away mid air. Max slid back on his bottom, wincing in pain as he gripped his stomach.

He wheezed, trying to gain back the air knocked from his lungs. Pikeman approached the younger boy, waving the stuffed animal in front of Max’s face.

“You want this back don’t you?” Max reached up in vain, Pikeman holding it inches from his reach.

Panic started to course through his body as the thought of not getting his bear back.

“Give it back!” He whimpered, arm stretching and quickly retracting to cover his aching chest that protested every movement.

Pikeman squatted so he was eye level with the curled up boy.

“You’ll get it back, but you’ll have to be a good boy, Max.” Pikeman’s mouth stretched into a wicked grin, Snake and Petrol shared the same smile, but Max didn’t care.

He had to get his friend back.

Pikeman lowered the bear closer to Max but still kept it from his reach.

“Can you be a good boy for us, Max?”

Uncertainty shown through his eyes, but the sad state of his bear made his heart drop.

Pikeman could see the boy’s uneasy state and gently grab the bear’s head, tugging lightly at the loose stitching. The head hung sadly on it’s last few threads and Max cried out, jumping up for the bear only to be grabbed by the front of his hoodie.

“Can you be a good boy, Max?”

Max nodded pitifully, tears, that he refused to indulge in,  welling up in his eyes as he stared at his stuffed animal.

“I’ll be good, please.” Max whispered, he casted his eyes to the floor.

“You will get your toy back once you prove it.”

The Wood Scouts shared a laugh, as the boy’s face fell even more, and they knew that this would be very eventful.

“How the fuck am I supposed to get through that?” Max yelled, as he clenched tightly to the sash around his chest. He wanted his hoodie back.

“It’s a simple ropes course, Maxwell. I’m sure you can handle.”

Max turned to protest but saw the bear in Pikeman’s hand.

“Especially with the raised stakes.” The teen added, and Max gulped facing the course again.

He fell, and fell, and fell. Over and over again, and the more he fell the more Pikeman got frustrated.

It had been the fifth time Max had gotten stuck in the rope bridge and fell flat on his back. His body was covered in bruises and his muscles ached.

As he stared up at the ropes hanging above him, he thought of how easily Nikki would climb, not thinking, just trusting where her hands fell. She never second guessed whether or not her feet would slips through the hole of the net, she just climbed.

Pikeman coughed loudly into his fist, Max stood up to face him in time to see him tug harshly on the arm of his bear. The seam split, stuffing falling to the ground as the teddy’s arm was easily ripped off.

Max yelped as if he was physically pained by the bear, but knew there was only one way to get him away from the torturous teen.

Max ran to the start of the ropes course, speeding through the sections he had become familiar with and stopped at the rope bridge. He’d just have to crawl across.

Just like Nikki, don’t think. Do. Fearless like Nikki’ Max thought.

He sped across the bridge, let his hands pull him and not second guessing where his feet fell.

Before he knew it, he sat huffing in front of Pikeman at the finish, fighting to catch his breath.

Max rose to his feet and stared up at the soft toy, then glancing at Pikeman, his eyes silently begging. Pikeman stared at him hard, eyeing him up and down, and hummed as he came to a conclusion.

“You went through a little ropes course, so what? Do you think that’s enough to be rewarded? I don’t think so. You still have more to prove.”

Max frowned, frustration from his constant failing and from the denial of his favorite toy made tears well up, but he refused to let them shed.

He stomped his foot, “How is that any fucking fair you asshole?”

“I suggest you apologize.” Snake spoke up and Max looked to him, the fire revived in his eyes.

“Fuck you and fuck him! Just give me the bear back assholes! It’s not your’s so give it to me!”

“Stop throwing a tantrum!” Pikeman commanded, and Max was one second away from showing the boy what a tantrum really was. But he settled on giving him the finger before he thought of moving on to such drastic measures.

Pikeman rolled his eyes at the bratty behavior, and turned away from him. He stalked off, Max yelling obscenities behind him.

“Petrol!” Pikeman barked, the boy quickly stood at attention, and Max immediately shut his mouth (earning a dark chuckle from Snake) suddenly afraid of what Pikeman would have the other boy do.

“Make him run the course 10 more times. Then we’ll see if he’s ready to apologize.” He didn’t even turn around to speak to him, and Max’s eye went wide as Petrol lead him back to the beginning of the ropes course.

Max was littered with bruises and scratches. Some poorly bandaged by himself with his tattered sash and others were left out to the open after Max had been sent to his tent without food for ruining his uniform. He was gifted a bandage after he slammed his face into a rock wall and Pikeman had so generously gifted him the bright pink bandage that laid across the bridge of his nose. The other scouts laughed at him for the color of the bandage.

“Are you ready to be a good boy, Maxwell?” Max jumped, wrapping his arms around himself, and looked up at the older teen, his large blue doe eyes staring at him uncertainly.

Pikeman squatted down to his height and leaned in close.

“You’ve been training to be an excellent camper, and you were promised a reward when you proved you were a good boy. You’ve made us very proud in the short time you’ve been here, and we were easily able to overcome all that bad behavior. The reward will come if you can do this.”

Max wrapped his arms around tighter and looked at the other two scouts for approval. They grinned at him, giving the small boy a thumbs up as encouragement. Max still looked like a frightened and wounded animal despite the encouraging looks, he could tell in some way this would fall back on him and he’d end up punished once more.

His legs began to shake as he thought of the task before him, but turned back to Pikeman, knowing how much he hated when Max didn’t keep eye contact.

Pikeman stood and offered his hand out to Max who gently took it, he nervously chewed on his thumb as the walked toward the door.

“Posture, Max.” Pikeman reminded without looking to the boy. Max stood up straight, but didn’t stop chewing on his thumb, something that had come to replace holding his teddy bear, who was currently stationed in his troop leader’s tent.

Pikeman took a catalogue that was carried under his arm and passed it too Max.

Before Pikeman could remind Max the plan, which consisted of following the rules of intense eye contact and always smile, (and if push came to shove, stick your foot in the door and demand they buy the popcorn) the door opened to reveal a rather pretty young woman.

She seemed pleased to greet the children, and this eased the anxiety that gripped at Max’s chest.

Max looked to Pikeman who tilted his head to the lady at the door, and Max passed her the catalogue.

‘Bull shit it like Neil. Fight through it like he does, be strong like Neil.’’

“M-my name is M-M-Max and I’m with the W-Wood Scouts, M-ma’am.”

She laughed and bent down to his height, and reached out to gently squeeze his cheek.

Max resisted the urge to flinch, and gave the woman a weak smile, her hand were very warm.

“Well aren’t you just the cutest scout there ever was! How’d you get all them bruises, honey?”

Max looked down and began to shuffle his feet, his thumb had returned to his mouth, and Pikeman began to panic and was going to interject.

“I went on a ropes course.” Max told honestly, like Pikeman had taught him. They spent a whole day on telling the truth after Max had lied about sneaking through the older teen’s tent searching for his reward.

Max never lied again.

“Oh yeah? What else did you do?” Her heart absolutely melted at the nervous scout, he was  clearly upset by having to talk to a stranger and he was just the most sweetest thing she had ever laid her eyes on. She’d have tell everyone at work about the cute scout that visited her.

“I went rock climbing, and swimming, we did archery once, and we went hiking one day.” Max racked his brain, trying to think of what else they had done in the month Max had been stuck with the scouts.

‘Tortured, I was definitely tortured. And beat publicly and humiliated, and they broke me over a stupid teddy bear that they haven’t let me touch or see inweeks.’ Max fought down the voice that had suddenly broke through in his head.

“Oh, how exciting!” She stood up straight after petting Max’s wild curls. (Which Pikeman had tried to tame, and almost shaved off, but that was one fight Max won.)

“You’re selling popcorn? That’s neat. Have you been down this whole street?” She asked, flipping through the pages of the catalogue, finding some eye catching flavors.

Max furrowed his brows as he thought and found himself chewing at his nail.

He looked up at her from under the loose curls that fell on his forehead. Pikeman always said to keep eye contact.

“N-no ma’am. You’re my first customer.” He flinched when she gasped, he wondered if he had said something wrong and if Pikeman would be upset. What if he was sent to bed without dinner again? Or made to do chores, or have to sleep outside in his sleeping bag again?

What if Pikeman struck him again?

The right side of his face tingled at the thought.

He hadn’t called any of the Wood Scouts a name after that incident, even when he really wanted to. Even Snake had felt bad for him.

“Well, how about I make myself a memorable first customer! I’ll buy three big bags of this caramel corn!”

Max smiled up at her, eyes wide as he thought of how proud Pikeman would be.

Max turned to look at him, hoping to see some sense of happiness behind the stern yellow eyes, but his smile quickly fell when he met Pikeman’s gaze.

Pikeman was studying him up and down, trying to solve an equation very much invisible to Max.

The lady offered Max the catalogue as she went off to fetch her check book.

Max clutched the paper to his chest tightly, and began to shake under Pikeman’s intense gaze. Max’s eyes darted around as if someone was going to jump out of nowhere, but he stayed put because his leader hadn’t told him it was time to leave yet.

The lady returned to the door and offered Max the check, which he accepted with a quick nod.

“Thank you for the popcorn dear! Have a good time at camp okay?” She gently shut the door, and Max turned to stand in front of Pikeman who wordlessly offered his hand.

Max kept his eyes downcast as they trudged back to the bushes where Petrol and Snake had hidden themselves.

Pikeman had a tight grip on Max’s hand, and the smaller boy couldn’t help but whimper in pain as the tight grip continued to grow.

The acne ridden teen didn’t offer an apology, only loosened his grip upon hearing the noise Max had made.

The others stood at attention once Pikeman and Max rounded the corner into the thick brush.

“How’d it go?” Snake asked, taking the papers from Max’s hand. He gasped letting Petrol stare at the check.

Petrol gave him a thumbs up, and Snake patted his shoulder. Max felt his chest swell with hope at his reward.

“This is amazing! This is more than we’d sell in a month.”

Max tilted his head in confusion,”But it’s only three ba-”

“Don’t talk back, Maxwell.” Pikeman chided, eyes staring at nothing as he lost himself back in thought.

Max stood up straight and kept his eyes downcast, when did he come so used to this routine? The routine of hiding himself.

“Let’s go back to headquarters, I think we need to rethink our entire plan.”

“You’re crazy!” Snake gasped, staring at the paper in front of them.

Max wasn’t allowed to sit at the table with the high ranking scouts, so he sat next to Pikeman’s chair, picking at grass that had tried to sprout under the Meeting Tent.

“I would have said the same thing myself; however, Maxwell proved me wrong.”

Max looked up when he heard his name mentioned, and was met with a cold hand brushing back- no, petting his hair, as if Max was his pet. Pikeman seemed proud of him, and a Max began to feel his own pride flow inside him.

“So your lap dog has finally done something right?” Another troop leader laughed, and Pikeman scoffed at the name. Max frowned, keeping the snide comments he would have loved to make to himself.

“Maxwell will you please stand on the chair.” Pikeman stood up and pushed the chair back to give Max room to climb on.

Max could feel the whole room’s eyes settle on him and he chewed on his thumb, fighting the red color that overcame his cheeks, and was trying his best not to slouch. They always teased when Pikeman corrected him on something as simple as slouching.

“Max is small and very thin. He’s shy,” He gestured to the blush that settled on his cheeks, and easily wrapped his thumb and middle finger so they touched around Max’s upper arm.

“He fidgets nervously and is the youngest of the Sleepy Peak troop. He screams weak, and gentle.” The other’s leaned forward, clearly interested in what Pikeman was trying to prove.

“He’s adorable. And that’s what sells.” A few uneasy glances are passed around the room, Pikeman coughed to bring them back.

“Think about it, colorful cookie names, vibrant boxes with cutesy animal designs, and most of all shy and dainty Flower Scouts to sell them. The Flower Scouts sell because they play to the people, they don’t need to intimidate because they’ve already manipulated them into buying just by batting their eyes and being cute. “

“It’s even in the name! When you think of flowers, you think of pleasant plants and sweet smells? Now what do you think when you hear the word ‘Woods.”

“You’re onto something, Edward.” Another troop leader agreed.

“I think it’s time to reconstruct are popcorn selling plan, and our looks, but for now I think it’s time to take care of some business.”

Pikeman gently lifted Max off the chair, as the scouts began to discuss the new plan, and set him on the ground.

“It’s time for your reward, Max.” Pikeman’s face had gone gentle, and Max willingly took his hand.

Snake and Petrol followed the duo back to Pikeman’s tent where Max was instructed to sit on the cot and wait.

Max kicked his legs, his whole body buzzing with excitement upon getting the chance to see Mr. Honey nuts. His heart raced as he thought of the many night he would hold his friend close, and how all anxieties would creep away from Max when his friend was with him.

He couldn’t help the creeping smile that had somehow found its way onto his face. His adorable plush friend he hadn’t seen since the ropes course on his first day. He had made it, he had been a good boy and he would finally get back his bear. What he had fought for since day one.

Max saw Pikeman’s feet come into view from where he was staring at the ground.

“Maxwell, you may look up now.”

Max whipped his head up, his wide grin and sparkling eyes falling as he saw his bear.

It was mostly deflated, most of the stuffing had fallen out, and the bear has several missing limbs, it only had its right arm and its left leg was hanging by a single thread.

The bear was missing both eyes and it’s head was void of stuffing.

Pikeman held out the pieces, growing more frustrated by the second.

“Go on Maxwell, take you reward.” He urged, confused on why the boy looked so sad after he had just gifted him back the prized toy that made him join the Wood Scouts.

Max took it and as soon as he touched it the head fell off and rolled away.

“Yes, Maxwell you’ve earned this. You’ve proven to the other troops that the Sleepy Peak district is one of high standard, and that we can turn anyone into an honorable scout. It’s certainly shown and will reflect on my reputation.” He bragged, Max knew that the earlier pride he saw was not meant for him.

No one was expecting the weak sob that fled the boy.

‘David wouldn’t cry, fight it, be strong like David.’ Max tried to convince himself but he could feel the burning tears begin to well up.

“He’s ruined!” Max cried, a familiar fight rising in his chest. He threw the body at Pikeman.

Tears blurred his vision and he didn’t fight against them this time, sobs wracked his tiny frame.

The sobs turned into screams as Max released almost a month’s worth of emotions that had been pent up inside of him. The frustration, the anger, the sad nights, and the fear rang through his screams.

He slammed his fists on the cot, his screams only increasing in volume as his tears fell faster and more frequently.

“M-My Bear!” Max wailed, curling in on himself, his mind raced with the picture of holding his ruined comfort item.

“M-Maxwell, please, stop this.” Pikeman stared at his friends for help, having never experienced Max having a crying fit, Snake and Petrol looked as equally afraid.

Snake went into action shoving the pieces of the torn bear into his leader’s hands, and Pikeman in turn held them out to Max.

“W- We can fix this Max. We’ll fix this dont worry! We can sew can’t we!” Pikeman knew for a fact he couldn’t and he turned to his friends who shrugged in response.

Max continued to wail, smacking the ruined pieces of his teddy out of Pikeman’s hands.

Guilt flooded the Wood Scouts, and Pikeman moved to comfort the boy.

He’d pat his head and tell him he was proud! That had always made Max happy in the past.

But he only cared for it because it meant he inching closer to get his bear, Oh..

Pikeman stared at the remains of Mr. Honey Nuts.

 Or maybe not.

The flap to Pikeman’s tent opened and he whipped around quickly to shoo the stray scout, who was clearly enticed to peak by the screaming, off but froze when he met eyes with a familiar tall man.

A small scout tried pushing the older man back, “He just came stomping through here and all his campers are raising a riot all over camp!”

David stood tall, eyes dark, bags layered under his eyes from sleepless night that had been haunting him for almost a month.

“I heard from a good friend at the bar that a curly black haired boy sold her Wood Scout’s Popcorn. Said he was tan skinned, with the widest blue eyes. Said he was covered in bruises.” David chuckled darkly.

Where’s my camper at?” He spat, and as if on cue Max let out a loud cry behind Pikeman, too lost in his crying fit to notice his camp counselor who came to rescue him.

Cries from the outside surrounded the tent, some about a girl who was climbing and wreaking havoc, and about how their phones and other electronics had been hacked. More filled as the other yellow shirt wearing campers flooded in.

Pikeman shrunk as David stalked closer.

Nikki and Neil hurried for Max to get into the middle of their bed.

Bed was a loose term, it was actually their three cots pushed together since the two campers couldn’t bare anymore separation from their friend.

Max rolled his eyes but got under the covers letting his two friends get comfortable on either side of him.

Neil dug under the bed and passed the patchwork bear to Max, as was routine for them, as it had been for the past week.

The yellow and brown fabric that covered the bear didn’t even show signs of ripping as Max gripped it tight, and his friend were gentle as the cuddled close to their friend, not wanting to press against any wounds.

David peeked in a few minutes after lights out had officially been put in place, scratching at his bare neck sheepishly when Max smiled at him as was routine for them now.

Before David could even get in his own good nights, Max’s friends had been anticipating David’s arrival.

“Good night!” Nikki screamed with her eyes still closed.

Max fought back his urge to flinch, and smiled at his friend’s antics.

“Yeah, night, David.” Neil yawned.

Max felt Neil’s back press against his own.

“Night ass hat.” Max said, faux annoyance in his voice.

“Goodnight my Camp Campbell campers.”

Don’t think about Clarke fondly watching Lexa and their daughter nap, don’t think about clarke filling her sketchbook with drawings of the two people that give her heart a reason to beat, don’t think about Lexa being the huge push-over parent and Clarke having to constantly chastise her two warriors, don’t think about Lexa cherishing every single moment she has with the two of them because she just doesn’t get enough hours in the day to be Lexa and not Heda, don’t think about Clarke soothing away her worries at night, don’t think about the insecurities they have as parents, don’t think about their constant fears of failing their natblida, don’t think about all the angst and arguments that arise from that, but definitely don’t think about how their worries were for not, how their daughter is the perfect combination of the two of them, how she ends up being the most compassionate and cunning commander the earth has ever seen, how she never let’s anyone forget how her mother’s saved the world ten times over, but whatever you do, definitely don’t think about all the wasted potential this show threw away, just don’t do it.


Girl Meets World Gender-Bend.

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

Riley Ricky Matthews 
Ricky’s never been a rebel, he leaves the trouble making up to his best friend, Miles. But what he lacks in spontaneity he makes up for in compassion. Although proven to be incredibly intelligent, Ricky is constantly underestimated because of his optimistic personality and desire to be accepted. Often feeling lost and unworthy (due to his highly successful parents) he struggles to find his place in the world. He feels most at home with a camera around his neck and a pen & notebook in hand. 

Lucas Lucy Friar
Being the only child of a military man, Lucy’s never stayed in one place long enough to make a connection so when her and her family moves to NY she takes up sports as a way to make friends and let out her aggression. Much to her dismay, her father wont accept anything less than perfect which leaves her in constant fear of failing. 

Isadora Isaac Smackle
Being the smartest guy in school has it’s advantages but doesn’t exactly do much for his social life. Isaac has spent practically his entire life being the best at everything he does, that is until he meets a gorgeous blue-eyed brunette who gives him a run for his money. His no-filter attitude is usually taken the wrong way but those that know him understand just how caring he can be.

Farkle Fiona Minkus
It’s no secret that Fiona is loaded but on top of being the richest kid at Abigail Adams High she’s also the smartest. At least, according to her. Fiona can sometimes be slightly problematic but her confidence in herself and her academic achievements are commendable to say the least. She much rather brag about her GPA than her father’s helicopter.

Zay Zoe Babineaux
Never the best at making first impressions, Zoe has a hard time making friends when she transfers to AA High. Her sense of humor and sarcastic remarks often get her into trouble but it’s her hopeless romantic nature that surprises people most when they get to know her. That and her breathtaking ballet skills. 

Maya Miles Hart
Prone to creating chaos, Miles has the tendency to get into trouble and more often than not has to turn to Ricky to bail him out. He puts on this tough guy facade but in actuality he’s just as insecure as the rest of his friends. His soft side is something he hardly shows but when he does it’s usually only around his close friends. He’s not very academically bright but put a paintbrush in his hands and he’ll paint you a masterpiece.

The Magisterium (I)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jinyoung

Rating: R (smut in part II)

Genre: Magician!AU (but like, Lev Grossman’s The Magicians)

Word Count: 8,463

Description: You love to frequent the dark underbelly of the city. Love the power you wield, the respect that you claim. When someone manages to best you at your own game, will you accept this defeat? Never.

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Reasons to read my Noragami x Harry Potter AU

  • It’s Harry Potter everyone loves Harry Potter
  • Pureblood Slytherin Yato and Muggle Gryffindor Hiyori romance
  • Gryffindor Bishamon and Ravenclaw Kazuma romance
  • Hufflepuff Yukine and Suzuha romance
  • Slytherin Yato and Hufflepuff Yukine friendship
  • Gryffindor Hiyori/Bishamon friendship
  • Constant Yato fails
  • Daikoku and Kofuku as that Gross Teacher Couple
  • Kofuku as a potions teacher I mean what could go wrong
  • Takemika and Kiun also work at Hogwarts and the Tsundere is real
  • Hippogriff keeper Yato
  • Yato, Bishamon and Kazuma as their houses Quidditch Seekers
  • Making fun of Yukine’s height
  • Yato being a dork when teaching Hiyori stuff
  • Yato being Extra™
  • Tragic Past™ 
  • I’m not holding back on killing 17 characters 
  • So much planning, I’ve been working on this since September 
  • Lots of details like wands, patronus, houses, blood-type, teachers
  • Scenes from actual series included coughtrollscenecough 
  • It’s going to be a longass slow burn fic
  • I mean seriously I’m covering all 7 books this will be a slow burn
  • A N G S T
  • I’ve been coerced into writing fluff too so that’s nice *coughyuleballcough*
  • Multiple characters giving no fucks
  • Sass
  • P A R A L E L L S
  • I solemnly swear I will update every month (pretty much when I need to give someone a birthday present which is at least once a month)
  • Art work from my queens @eerna @paperypiper and @skyheaven1231
  • An AU of my AU by my queen @scarfblogs
  • I also try to draw stuff but that’s not important 
  • #spon

My heart romanticizes people far too often. This only leads to disappointment. The amazing thing about God, is that His goodness is constant and does not fail. You see, when we romanticize people, we build up these expectations of them and when they do not come through for us, we feel disappointed because in our minds, they’re something else. When we think of God’s power, and grace, and goodness, it all exists. It’s real. We can have these ideas about God because He actually is all of these things. Lord, help us to keep our minds and hearts set on Your goodness, for it is the only truth!

The Daring Dance Professor

The Daring Dance Professor

College Professor: 7 of 7

Word Count: 575

You were in your college’s dance group and you had a show to perform. Not only did you do a group dance, but you also had a solo dance, and a duet dance with you Professor, His official name was Professor Jung Hoseok, but sometimes he would let a certain person, you, call him his nickname given to him by his friends, J-Hope. You had other plan though you had already given him a nickname, Hobi, but you wouldn’t dare use it around the entire group. Hobi was an amazing dancer and to him so were you. That’s why you got to dance the duet with him. He also was the hottest thing since sliced bread in your book, so having a duet with him was heaven for you. It was a few weeks before the show, but you were always in the dance room practicing. One night, while practicing your solo, which was a little number you choreographed yourself, you just couldn’t get your jumps down. You would either fall, or not get enough rotation. While repeating this jump over and over you heard someone enter the practice room. This happened often so you didn’t mind, and continued to practice your jumps. “You’re over rotating (Y/N) that’s why you can’t land.” You heard this familiar voice and you knew it was you Professor, or in your case Hobi. You turned to look at him and saw he was in his practice cloths as well. “Did you come to practice the group stuff Hobi?” you asked him. He replied by setting down his water bottle and walking towards you. “Well yes, but since you’re having trouble, I’m going to help you.” He said while smiling. You looked at him thankfully and bowed to thank him “Ah you don’t have to do that (Y/N) were only a year apart in age so don’t treat me like an old man.” Hobi said with a giggle. “Now let’s get this jump down.” You smiled and agreed. After an hour of constant explanation, jumping, and failing, you finally got the move down. “Finally! Thank you Hobi it would have taken me ages if I tried to do that myself.” You said as you gathered your things. “Where do you think you’re going (Y/N)?” He asked looking very confused, tired, and of course cute. “Well I was going to go back to my dorm, I’ve finished practicing what I needed to.” You replied. “But by the way you’re looking at me you have other plans.” You said with a smirk. “Well since both of us are here why don’t we practice our duet?” He said looking directly into your eyes. You saw a glimpse of something you had never seen before. It made your heart race and your face flush. “Oh…yeah…of course…the duet…” You avoided eye contact with Hobi the whole practice. You two were so close the whole time so when you took a wrong step and began to fall you instantly wished you wouldn’t have. You hit the floor first then Hobi on top of you He instantly pushed himself onto his hands while straddling you “Are you OK (Y/N)?” Hobi asked slightly panicking. “I’m fine, and so are you.” You blurted out, surprised by your own words. Again you saw that same look in Hobi’s eyes. “How about I show you how fine I can be?” He said with a smirk as he began grinding on you.

Originally posted by zutterv

Afraid of Home

OneShot - DeanXReader

Warnings: slight angst, some fluff, all around feels

Overview: The reader turns Dean away. What happens when she’s the one that needs him?

Word Count: 1,124

I’d said no.

It had been a long hunt, the kind where you got out by the skin of your teeth and left too many bodies in your wake. We’d managed to save a few people, but the death toll was still too high. We should have found the case sooner, we should have noticed the pattern more quickly, we shouldn’t have taken that extra day to survey, we should have saved them… All of the “should have’s” weighed heavily on our minds as we made the long drive back to the bunker. No one wanted to sleep in the motel that night – no one wanted to dwell in the blood filled memories. So we left the town far behind us.

The gentle knock had woken me from a sleep I had barely been able to force myself into. I sat up, immediately tense as the remaining traces of adrenaline from the past few days pumped its way through my system. The knock sounded again, even softer than before. I could sense the hesitancy behind it.

“Who’s there?” I whispered. My voice carried through the quiet of the room. I heard feet shuffling on the other side of the door, and my eyes watched the faint shadows they cast through the small crack by the floor.

“It’s…it’s Dean.” He cleared his throat, his voice low and heavy. “Can I…is it ok if I come in?”

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anonymous asked:

Jimon prompt: Simon thinking Jace hates him because of the constant teasing etc (i.e. failed attempts at flirting), and a drunken Jace finding out and tying Simon's hair into pigtails so he can literally pull them to get him point across (RE the old school idea of boys pulling girls' pigtails of they liked them)

this prompt is so ridiculous asdfghjkl i love it

“What the hell are these?” Simon asks as Jace throws two tiny elastic bands down in front of him. 

“Hair ties.” Jace announces, like that answers every question Simon has. Simon looks at him, then looks back down at the innocuous looking black elastics sitting on top of his debriefing report from a mission he accompanied as a Downworld liaison. 

“Hair ties.” Simon repeats back dumbly, and then he looks at Jace again, who’s swaying towards him with a manic glint in his eyes. “Are you drunk?” 

“No?” Jace says, looking scandalized. “If I was drunk,” he leans closer to Simon, slamming a fist down on the table, “could I have thought of such a smart plan?” 

His breath reeks of alcohol. Simon rolls his eyes, smiling despite himself. “Sure, whatever. What do you want me to do with these? Give you a man bun?” 

“What?” Jace asks, staring at him as he sits back heavily in the chair next to Simon. “How is a bun a man? Isn’t it just a bun? What?” 

Simon looks at him, takes in the way his forehead is furrowing as he thinks about hairstyles. Whatever he drank, it’s made him forget about the stresses of Shadowhunting for at least a little while, and he looks younger, more innocent, cheeks flushed pink. His hair is falling loose from the little pins Simon knows he has in it now, a new thing that’s come about because Jace hasn’t had the time to get his hair cut.

Simon knows all these things because he pays attention to Jace, because he has a crush on Jace. He’s aware enough to admit that to himself. He’s also aware enough to admit that Jace kind of hates him, or at least finds him annoying, and, well - that’s life. He’ll live with it, like always. 

“What’s your plan, Jace?” He cajoles instead of voicing his own morose thoughts, and Jace brightens up, picking one of the elastics up and shuffling his chair closer. 

“Hold still.” Jace murmurs, and then he’s reaching up with his careful pianist fingers to lift a thick lock of Simon’s hair and start braiding it, his eyes locked in intense concentration on it and his mouth pursed. Simon, for his part, feels his eyebrows shoot up as he’s suddenly confronted with Jace much closer to his face, so close he can pinpoint the exact point the blue bleeds into brown in his eyes. 

“Are you…trying to make me look better?” Simon asks helplessly. Jace snorts. 

“You don’t need to look better.” Jace says, as if it’s normal that they say things like this to each other. “You always look s’good” 

“Yeah, you’re definitely missing a word in there.” Simon says, wrinkling his nose at the chemical smell of vodka coming off of Jace. “Also, you’re missing a few brain cells right now, but I’ll take you not hating me for a few minutes because you’re wasted.” 

“I don’t hate you.” Jace says absently, and then he pitches forward off his chair to straddle Simon’s lap

Simon holds very, very still and considers that he might be dreaming, but Jace’s weight is solid on his lap and very present, and Simon gulps as his hands fly to grip the armrests and he stares up into Jace’s handsome face. 

“I have no idea what’s happening right now.” He says honestly, his voice high and panicked, and Jace hums, tying an elastic off into the second small braid he’s created in Simon’s hair. 

“Pigtails.” he explains, sliding one hand down to Simon’s neck and using the other to tug forcefully enough at the pigtails that Simon feels it, jerking away and hissing ow. “I’m pulling your pigtails.” 

“That’s your plan?” Simon asks, dumbfounded. “What one earth - “

“Maia,” Jace continues with as much dignity as he can muster straddling Simon’s laps, hand playing absently with what Simon is sure is a ridiculous looking braid, “told me that I wasn’t being obvious enough.” 

“With - “

“So I’m pulling your pigtails.” Jace finishes triumphantly, confidant as he smirks at Simon. “To tell you I like you, and that I want to go out on a date with you.” 

Simon’s world screeches to a halt as he processes what Jace just said, and then he just stares at Jace, who shifts in his position and stares back at Simon, devastatingly handsome and incredibly wasted.

“Okay.” Simon says, shaking his head slowly. “Okay! Let’s sleep it off and see what you think in the morning, you idiot.” 

“Only an idiot for you.” Jace responds wisely. 


In the morning, hangover and all, Jace stumbles into Simon’s boathouse. 

“You still have the pigtails.” He says accusingly, his voice sleep-roughened as he stares at Simon’s hair. 

You’re here.” Simon counters peevishly. “Sober.” 

“Right.” Jace says, nodding, and then he reaches over and tugs at the pigtail again, his touch gentle this time. “It wasn’t the worst idea I’ve had.” 

“Debatable.” Simon says, and then Jace is curling a hand in Simon’ shirt and yanking him forward to kiss him soundly, mouth open and warm and wanting, and Simon thinks dazedly that it really isn’t the worst idea Jace has ever had. 

(Because Jace’s drunk brain could have decided that Cupid was the romantic metaphor to act out, and then Simon would have probably been shot in the ass or something with Alec’s arrows, and honestly it’s probably for the better that Jace stuck with pigtail pulling.)

anonymous asked:

Apprentice Headcanons?

*rubs hands*


Before we start, I should probably warn and remind the squeamish among you that I will be making some general speculation about a canonly abusive captor/captive relationship and that if you’re not comfortable with discussions on things of that nature, use caution and discretion about reading ahead.

  • I’m personally kind of fond of the idea that Robin was captured on a Monday and rescued on a Friday, though I’ll admit it takes a bit of creative narrative stretching to make it work.
  • (More realistically it was probably about three days.)
  • Slade is so eminently pleased with himself the whole time.  It almost pisses Robin off more than the snide criticisms and the comparisons Slade makes about them both.
  • Had the apprenticeship continued longer, Slade would’ve gone in hard with classic brainwashing techniques.  He’d already started picking at Robin’s sense of identity and self-worth even before the actual kidnapping, and that would have just continued and gotten more intense, especially if Robin continued to resist and rebel against Slade’s apprenticeship.
  • If Robin had kept on defying him, Slade would have responded with increased physical and emotional abuse.
  • (He learned a little better with Terra, mostly sticking to lying and emotional manipulation, but ultimately Slade is just not very good at taking failure to comply and it was his downfall both times.)
  • Slade let Robin hear Starfire’s worried calling for him on the communicator.  Robin wanted so badly to just run up and grab it and tell her he was okay.
  • It wasn’t the first time Slade deliberately toyed with him.
  • Once he unstrapped the button from his wrist and challenged Robin to fight him for it, dangling the suggestion that if he could win the fight, Robin could take the button and go free.
  • Of course there wasn’t any chance for Robin to win.
  • For one thing, Slade always fights dirty.  Always.
  • Robin is on edge the whole time, never relaxing for a moment.
  • He tenses up every time Slade is in the room.
  • He’s constantly almost on the verge of a panic attack.
  • He doesn’t know when Slade will take an unexpected swing at him to test his reflexes and skills, which he does a couple times.
  • Other times Robin is just mouthing off, trying to be a pain in the ass and irritate/annoy Slade as much as he can and Slade will just pop off with a hard backhand to the face, and it hurts so much more than Robin’s expecting every time.
  • The only bit of moderate normalcy he gets is when he’s left alone with Wintergreen.  Who takes pity on him and brings him some ice for whatever latest bruise Slade’s left on him.
  • Starfire’s worry was already beginning to gnaw at her as soon as the Titans were forced to separate from him.
  • She knew, she just knew, that Robin shouldn’t be left by himself in the state he was in.  He was going to go do something reckless and dangerous, and possibly get himself killed.
  • She’s a nervous wreck the whole day after they know he’s missing and not answering his communicator.
  • She fidgets, paces anxiously, checks her communicator obsessively.
  • Raven picks up on it and she’s the next to start getting seriously worried.  Robin’s a reckless ass sometimes, sure, but he’s never gone this long without contacting them, and certainly never disabled his locator beacon.
  • By day two with still no sign of him Cyborg and Beast Boy are worrying too and Starfire convinces them all to go out searching.
  • She imagines so many awful scenarios in her head.  That he’s injured and lying unconscious in a pool of his own blood somewhere.  That Cinderblock caught him with a lucky strike and crushed him into a pillar.  That in his obsession he’s cut off contact with them, believing them to be distractions to his mission.
  • The reality was so much worse.
  • All the Titans were in a state of numb shock and disbelief right after they first saw Robin in his apprentice uniform.
  • It didn’t even wear off until after they had returned to the Tower.
  • Seeing them was agony for Robin.  Seeing them and not being allowed to talk to them or Slade would kill them was crueler than he’d anticipated.
  • He had to stop and compose himself in an alleyway between there and the hideout before he could walk in and face Slade.  By then his despair had simmered down into anger and resentment and he could properly threaten Slade with retribution.
  • Which of course only made Slade happier, the bastard.
  • Slade knew who Robin was.  And deliberately sent him out to a WayneTech lab to rub it in.
  • It was the worst feeling in the world when Robin realized Slade had figured out his secret.
  • For weeks afterwards he was quietly dreading the inevitable call from Batman.
  • (Fortunately when Bats did call, he was nothing but concerned about him.)
  • Robin didn’t sleep well any of the nights he was held.
  • Slade considering drugging him once, if only so that his apprentice wouldn’t be sleep-deprived and unfocused and sloppy when he finally sent him out, but Wintergreen ultimately talked him out of it.
  • The Titans didn’t much sleep that well either, especially Starfire, who was tossing and turning with worry, and Raven, who picked up on everyone’s uneasy vibes and nightmares and had to spend her nights in constant meditation.
  • Starfire’s powers actually failed her for a minute during the rooftop battle with Robin.  She was so paralyzed with confusion and indecision that she literally couldn’t lift a finger against him.
  • She snapped out of it when it looked like Robin was about to escape.
  • (A very tiny part of her, drowned out by the rest that was all battle-hardened duty, just didn’t want to let him leave, didn’t want him to go, afraid he’d disappear forever.)
  • One of the things that came to the forefront of her mind when she realized she couldn’t hurt Robin was their Ferris wheel date.
  • Robin’s heart just about broke when he realized Starfire was basically asking him to just kill her.
  • He could put on a veneer of indifference for the rest of the fight, put on a perfect act of obedience and compliance, go through his motions robotically, without thinking about much except how to disengage without hurting any of them, but confronted with the unavoidable order to hurt Starfire all that fell away, revealing the frightened, scared teenager who loved her so much underneath.
  • (Whoops these past few bullets have been actual canon, my bad.)
  • Starfire entertained several pleasing daydreams about how exactly she was going to beat Slade up on their way to the man’s hideout.
  • Cyborg traced the probes’ two-way transmission.  They were constantly sending out data about their vitals to Slade, so all he had to do was figure out where that was.
  • An oversight Slade would stew about later.  Greatly.
  • The Titans made a brief search for Slade in the debris of the collapsed hideout, but he was long gone by then.  They focused instead on getting Robin home.
  • He stripped off the apprentice uniform and took a shower first thing, then immediately put on his normal clothes.
  • He had nightmares for weeks after it happened and still suffers from PSTD from it.
How to study for exams with Anxiety

It’s coming around that stressful time of year for students, summer exams. As someone who has anxiety, I completely understand the stress and the constant “I’m gonna fail! I’m gonna fail!” voice repeating in your head. So here are a few tips to study for exams. DO NOT cram the night before. Cramming is bad in general, you actually don’t get that much information into your head and you will probably be exhausted the next day so try studying a few weeks before the exam, I know you don’t feel like doing it but trust me, you’ll feel better if you study earlier. Learn as if you’re teaching a class. I love this technique, this is actually a scientific fact that you’ll ace an exam if you study thinking you’re teaching someone. I do this a lot and I usually get either A’s or B’s. Record Yourself. If you are a learner by reading over and over, record yourself and listen to yourself over and over instead of reading. RELAX! It’s not good to be constantly stressed, especially with anxiety. TAKE A STUDY BREAK! this is so important! I did not take a study break today and my brain is just fried. Try going out for a walk, or just breathing. Listen to study music. All you have to do is look up “Study music” on YouTube and then listen to it while you study, it will help you concentrate. Make flashcards. These are so helpful! And if you are to lazy to make some out like I am, just download an app for flashcards and I kinda think it’s a fun way of doing it. Sleep. Seriously, the earlier you sleep, the more you’re brain will be able to study. Drink Tea. It can ge any kind, herbal, Chamomile (which is highly recommended for sleep and stress relief) green tea, raspberry tea whatever you fancy, but I recommend to stay away from English tea (unless you drink it early in the day) because it has a small amount of caffeine in it…also stay away from coffee near the end of the day) Watch videos for study tips. That’s how I learnt the method of acting like you’re teaching someone else. Get to sleep the night before the exams! Seriously this is important, you might end up sleeping in the middle of the exam so, you really should sleep. I recommend doing exercise the day before Good luck on your exams!

Originally posted by endocitosi

some nights when I don’t sleep all that well, I just remember how grateful I am to be alive. my restless nights give way to a new dawn, a new day of God’s blessings. now granted I will have bad days when worry and fear will plague my mind and shake my bones but I know that God is shaping me with my circumstances. I know He is not finished with me yet. so while I toss and turn like the waves of the ocean in an angry storm, I remember that my Savior walks on water and calls ‘be still’ to the sea. Lord, calm my ever-wandering mind, that quite frankly won’t shut up sometimes. this season is full of change and rising tides. so when I come crashing down, I know that you are my shore, grounded and steady, catching my waves. ever-constant. never failing. Your love is strong and mighty and can change my life in a single breath. so Lord, breathe life upon these dry bones. breathe.


In which Dean Winchester watches that show about ice skating because Charlie keeps bugging him about it, and Cas tags along. 

“Oh look, they kissed. I was right after all, Dean.”
“Jesus, Cas! That wasn’t a kiss, it was just a very dedicated hug, they were hugging.

Admittedly, the only reason Dean Winchester started watching that random anime that included ice skating, was because Charlie Bradbury -the sister he never wanted, but totally adored-, kept endlessly bugging him about it. Claiming that it had changed her life, or whatever. Begging Dean to watch it too so that they could geek out over it together, because she needed a buddy to fangirl with, doh.

It wasn’t Dean’s usual genre at all, but on a rainy Sunday afternoon when the bunker was quiet and boredom took over, he gave in and decided to give it a try. If only to make his friend happy, or to see what the fuss was all about.

He made himself comfortable on his bed, balancing his laptop on his legs, clicking on the first episode, rather skeptical when a cheesy song started playing as the intro began.

“What the-?” He sputtered to himself, but kept watching anyway.

Twenty minutes later, he understood, kinda. The show was strangely addictive. There was some humor, the main character was easy to relate to, and at some point Dean had a brief flashback to how he’d felt that one time when Gabriel let him believe that he was meeting his idol Doctor Sexy. Not to mention the other side of it all; the constant fear to fail or never being enough for anyone or anything.

He was about to eagerly click episode two, when a gentle knock on his door interrupted him, and Castiel walked in without waiting for a reply.

“Heya, Cas!” Dean greeted amiably, not bothered by it in the slightest; the personal space between them had gone out of the window altogether now that Cas was living in the bunker too. “Joining team bored?” He added, already scooting over to make room for the angel.

“So it would seem.” Castiel nodded, giving Dean an almost-smile as he sat down on the edge of the bed, taking off his shoes. “Or perhaps I just like spending time with you.”

Dean ducked his head to hide his blush as Cas made himself at home on Dean’s bed, right there beside Dean, their shoulders firmly pressed together.

“What are we watching?” Castiel asked as Dean clicked ‘play’.

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Steal My Heart (steal my whole life too) 24/28

Genre: Chaptered, fantasy AU, Prince!Phil, Thief!Dan, romance, enemies to lovers, angst and fluff, slow burn (like serious slow burn)

Warnings: some violence, mentions of death (no main characters), dark magic, descriptions of wounds/blood, some hints of sexual scenes (but no actual smut), murder, dangerous situations, stealing/thievery

Summary: Captain of the Royal Guard and Prince of Morellia, Philip Lester has never been given the chance to find love. Instead, he’s run from a system that works to end class differences and improve equality for its citizens. Happy as he is to make the world a better place, Phil can’t help feeling bitter towards his ancestors for making it impossible for him to find someone who will actually love him for more than just his title, and strives instead for a life of justice and doing good - only to meet his match in the King of Thieves, a man who will change everything he once thought he knew in life. Together, they must depart on a quest to save the kingdom, and, in the process, destroy their differences and find their own form of love.

Word count: 240,000+

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