dirty sidewalk

Run away with me. Stay in a cheap, outdated hotel with me because that’s the only place we can afford, and drive down the car-infested highways with me in a beat up old van and park in the middle of an dark, empty field with me and lay a blanket on the hood and let’s gaze at the diamond-encrusted sky for a couple of hours. The world is our movie theater, the fireflies our actors, the clouds our scenery, our eyes the cameras. Dance with me in the rain, and roll the windows down to let the summer breeze dry our clothes as we race down the back roads.
Drive into the city with me. Let’s explore the dirty sidewalks of this concrete jungle and take pictures of our sparkling eyes and unkempt hair that glow in the light of the neon signs. Wear your fanciest clothes with me, and let’s have a night on the town window shopping and and dancing and telling secrets and pretending to own the world. We can’t afford to eat anywhere but the cheap diner with the crappy coffee, but we pretend like we’re in a 5-star restaurant, and with our imaginations, it is one.
Travel up the mountains and across the rivers with me. Let’s climb until our arms are sore and sunburnt, swim until our legs ache, and explore until we know every nook and cranny of the earth like the backs of our hands. No mountain is too high and no valley too low and no plain too wide when we explore together. We might not be able to afford fancy clothes and expensive things, but these kind of mind-broadening experiences are free and worth more than all the lamborghinis and louboutins in the world.
Run away with me. I promise you won’t regret a thing.
—  emvincible-b

First you cry, and then you cry. You get on a metro and go where it takes you. You leave your phone behind and go around the city alone. Get on a bus and get lost in the sounds: of traffic, of music. Jump in potholes, get your shoes dirty. Walk on the sidewalk, walk with grace. Let your hair down, let the wind untangle your knots. Go get a piercing, go try some street food. Count the red cars, then count the blue: one two three, one two three; make a wish, make another. Sit in cafes, sit on rocks, take polaroids. Run, run, run till you’ve conquered every street, every raindrop, every shadow under every lamp post. Tell every corner, “I was here, I was here.”

One step, then another, you come back home. You come back slowly, you come back calm. Play some music, your hands in the air, close your eyes and dance. Then change the song, lay still on the floor.
First you cry, and then you laugh. Then you laugh, and then you laugh.

piece of art | h.s. imagine

♡ smut 

masterlist 

// harry and y/n take a trip to MoMA and her art studio, where things get a little messy

-

paint my kiss across your chest
if you’re the art, i’ll be the brush

-bad liar, selena gomez

“You’re prettier than all of the art in here.” Harry states. He flops his long arm across my shoulders as we stand looking at Andy Worhol’s Campbell’s Soup Cans. “I mean, it’s just a bunch of soup cans. I could’ve come up with that.”

I roll my eyes at his cheesy comment and laugh at his unappreciative nature towards art. “It’s Andy Worhal.”

“It’s not creative, y/n.” Harry looks at me and takes my hand in his, pulling me away from the soup cans. His heavy tan sweater sways lightly while he walks. His hands are clammy, just like usual. “You on the other hand, are the most creative, most beautiful person I know. Your art should be here. You should be in here,” he beams.

“I am in here.” I reply, looking up at him. The hat he has on makes him look different- younger, maybe.

“No, like on display. I want everyone to see how beautiful you are- wait no, on second thought, I don’t want anyone looking at you.” Harry shakes his head and takes his lip between his index finger and thumb.

“Why not? You said yourself, I’m prettier than all of the art in here,” I counter, though I completely disagree with his statement.

“Because having you on display would mean that other people would get to look at you and I want to be the only one who gets to look at y/n, the most beautiful and priceless piece of art that ever was.” Harry finishes his sentence with a kiss to my right temple. This leaves my cheeks burning and my mind wondering why this public act of affection is affecting me the way it is. All we would ever be seen doing is holding hands. Never kissing, never even hugging in public.

“People stare at you everyday and you don’t see me having a problem with it.” I cross my arms over my chest, sending him attitude.

“That’s because you don’t see me as a piece of art, love. I look at you and I see the most delicate, most intricate, most delightful thing created.” He flashes a smile at me again, and I wonder why he would ever think I don’t see him as a piece of art. Maybe he’s more than art to me. Maybe he’s my world, my lifeline, the oxygen in my lungs.

Harry yawns. “Can we go to your apartment? I’m tired.” Waking up before the sun does, performing on the Today Show and promising your girlfriend you’d go to MoMA with her can be exhausting.

“Yeah, Haz, we can go home.” I quietly say while he rubs his eyes. His sweater sleeves are far too long, even for his lanky arms. I notice him grabbing onto the ends of his sleeve, to keep the cool new york air away from his skin when we walk out the door. He grabs my hand with his uncovered one, a cool contrast to my always warm ones. Both of our chelsea boots clank on the dirty sidewalk and we do our best to avoid paparazzi, however we do stop to say hello to a few fans.

Once we settle into the range rover waiting for us, I tell Harry that I need to stop by my studio before we go back to my apartment. I say to him that he can stay in the car and that it’ll only be a few moments but he insists on coming up with me.

“Wow, this is intense.” He says closing the door. It’s a small studio with the tiniest bathroom and kitchen imaginable. It was my first home in Manhattan. Harry looks around my work area, careful not to trip over the paint stained sheet I have layed out on the floor to protect the wood underneath. He glances at the canvas on one of my three easels, the one he so graciously gifted me with. “Is this me?” He points to the unfinished painting.

I nod. “Yeah, I started that while you were in Jamaica. All from memory.”

“You’re so incredible.” He comes up behind me and rests his chin on the top of my head. Our height difference always makes me giggle. His arms slip underneath my sweater and shirt, finding spots on my warm torso to leave his cold hands. The contact makes me scream.

“Harry! Your hands are so fucking cold, get them off of me.” I wiggle away from his grasp and he frowns.

“I was trying to warm up, poppet,” Harry tries to justify his actions.

“Well you’re not warming up by putting your freezing cold hands on me,” I say while trying to find the gallery showing application I was given.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll turn on the thermostat.”

“No Harry, I came to pick up this application.” I wave the paper in front of him. “We can go now.”

Harry narrows his eyes and looks around the studio again. “No, I want to stay here and try something.”

My eyebrows knit together in a confused fashion. He begins walking over to my paints and rummages through the bottles. “What are you doing?” I question.

“I wanna try something,” He repeats. “Strip for me.” He continues blatantly. Turning around, he holds three bottles of paint in each of his large hands. He looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to take off my clothes but I remain wide eyed and completely clothed. Like he said, It’s still very cold in the studio and I have no clue as to what he’s planning on doing. Harry puts the paint down on the table closer to where I’m standing. He walks towards me and takes my jacket off. I reluctantly let him but still wonder what’s going on inside his head. “Can you at least tell me what you’re doing?” I question.

Harry bites his lip, hiding a smile from me. I hate it when he bites his lip because I love seeing him smile, but on the other hand there’s something mysterious to this lip bite. “Just trust me, okay? Look, I’ll even turn on the heat for you and we can stand in front of the heater,” he suggests.

“Harry…” I begin.

He pouts his lip. “Please, poppet?”

I groan as I’m unable to resist his begging eyes. “Fine,” I comply before pulling my shirt off of me, shuddering as the cold air hits my skin. Harry shuffles us closer to the air vent so I won’t freeze down to my bones.

“Pants, too.” He gestures. “Everything, love. I want everything off.” He unbuttons my jeans and moves his hands around my waist so that they’re resting right above my bum. He kneels down so he can be eye level with my stomach. He presses his lips to my already exposed belly button while reaching down my legs to unzip my boots, allowing me to step out of them before removing my jeans. I do this for him since he gets up to take me in. I’m slightly embarrassed, though this is hardly the first time he’s seen me like this. “So beautiful. God, how are you so perfect?” Harry is now standing in front of me, peering down my body.

“I’m hardly perfect,” I whisper. The warm air from the heater leaves goosebumps scattered along my backside, where the air first hits my body.

“But you are,” Harry insists and reaches behind my back, trying to unclasp my bra. I let him do so as I’ve completely given up on trying to understand what he’s doing. He lets my bra drop to the floor and I instinctively bring my arms up to cover myself. Harry shakes his head and grabs my arms to move them to my sides. “Why do you feel like you have to cover up, love?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, I’m just embarrassed, I guess.“

Harry chuckles lightly before pressing his lips against my own, making this our first kiss of the day. It’s tender and sweet, making me want more but he pulls away. “You have no reason to be embarrassed. How many times do I have to tell you that you’re perfect. All of the flaws that you think are flaws make you who you are. You’re perfectly imperfect.” He kisses my lips again. His words make pink blossoms bloom on my cheeks and heat emerge between my legs. He grabs a paint bottle and opens it.

“Harry what are you-”

“I want you to be my canvas. You’re always asking me to paint with you but I’ve decided I want to paint on you.” Harry answers. He grabs a pallet and squeezes the white paint onto the plastic.

“You’re gonna paint on me?” I look at him with disapproving eyes, wondering where he even got this idea from.

“Mhmm.” He dips the brush in the paint. He’s slow with his actions, making me anticipate the cold liquid on my skin. He starts at my left shoulder and I nearly yelp at the cold contact. “Sorry,” he says. I nod and he drags the brush all the way down my arm and stops at my wrist. He does the same to the other side and my body gets used to the feeling. It tickles slightly but the brush he’s using is rough. He says he’s finished with the white and puts the pallet and brush down. “This could get pretty messy,” he states. “And we wouldn’t want me getting paint on my clothes,” he continues, starting to take off his hat and his tan sweater after. He leaves himself only in his white boxers, just like me, only in my dark blue lace panties. I shake my head at his cheeky behavior. “Maybe we
should let Ray know he can go back to the hotel. Wouldn’t want him waiting in the car all this time.”

All I can do is nod, completely lost in his actions. He grabs another paint bottle, the lightest blue that I own. Instead of the pallet, he squeezes it into his hand then puts his hands together, spreading the paint on the other. He looks at me adoringly with his pupils dilated and a smile creeping onto his lips. He moves behind me and nudges my arms, telling me to lift them up. I do so and when they’re up far enough, he snakes his arms underneath them and presses his hands against my breasts, leaving two blue handprints on each of them. “Harry!” I gasp.

He laughs and turns me around. “What?”

“You’re so cheeky!” I exclaim, looking down at his blue palms. “You’re too clean, too.” I add. Harry twists his face, confused by what I mean. It’s just not fair that I’m the only one who is covered in paint. I lunge toward him and press my chest on his, transferring some of the paint onto him. I wrap my arms around his neck and he gasps my name. He lifts me up in his arms and I wrap my legs around his waist. I join my lips to his and this one is much needier than the last. He bites my bottom lip before pulling away.

“Mmm, not done with you,” Harry hums. He puts me down and frowns. “You’ve messed up my artwork!”

I look down and I see that I’ve completely smudged the blue paint on my boobs and have managed to get some of it on my chest.

“This just won’t do,” he shakes his head. Harry’s long fingers wrap around the lilac paint and he smirks at me. Before I get to say anything, he squeezes the paint directly onto my chest.“My design is ruined so might as well just make a mess of you.” He shrugs.

“Only if you let me paint on you,” I compromise. I receive a small peck on my lips and he says okay. I smile, feeling giddy that I get to have some fun as well. I contemplate which color I want to start with and Harry has already decided on his next one. He’s going with a bright yellow and I pick up a darker purple than the one he put on me before. I squeeze a little on my finger and reach up to put lines under Harry’s eyes, resembling a football players game face. He laughs and says, “That’s the best you can do?”

I shake my head no. Before Harry does anything with the yellow paint he removes my underwear in the swiftest motion, I don’t even notice that they’re gone until his cold hands are placed on each of the cheeks. “Mm, just a little yellow to brighten the day,” he says. Twisting my back, I see the two yellow handprints left on my bum. It’s like he’s marking me.

“Fuck,” Harry says. “I can’t do it.”

I am staring at the ferns etched above his V line when he says this. I look up at his hungry eyes. “I just can’t do it, y/n,” he admits. “I wanted this to be fun. I just wanted to paint on you, but you’re so beautiful and I’m getting distracted.” He looks down. I look down. I hadn’t even noticed the bulge under his boxers.

“Oh, Harry,” I giggle while bringing myself closer to him. My palms meet his chest and I trace my fingertips over the birds. He hums into my ear and nibbles on the lobe. My knees feel weak but luckily Harry lifts me off of the ground and takes control. One arm is holding me up while the other is wrapped round my back and he grasps my hair in his hand. I snuggle in closer to him-if that’s even possible, and rest my forehead on his shoulder. He’s backed me up against the wall and he pulls my hair so we can be face to face. A wet kiss is left on my neck and he kisses my jawline, teasing me at the corner of my lips until finally pressing his own to mine. He parts his lips and I take this opportunity to stick my tongue in his mouth. He never lets me have this much control and I don’t think he ever will. He pushes mine away with his own, and resorts to biting my bottom lip as punishment. Our breathing is heavy and our skin is hot, thanks to the thermostat that quickly warmed the small flat.

“Y/n, baby,” Harry begs. I kiss him harder, shutting him up. However, he pulls away. “You’re so beautiful. How did I get so lucky?”

“You’re beautiful too,” I smile. He puts me down and his boxers come along with me. They stop at his thighs and I pull them down, kissing his thigh tattoo as I do so. I take him in my hand but Harry pulls me up before I get to do anything. I look at his face and he shakes his head.

“All about you, love. I want this to be all about you,” he tells me. I want to argue, but I also don’t want to do anything. “I want to taste you,” he says. I nod. I nod vigorously.

He lifts me up again and takes us over to one of my work tables and I internally grimace as my bum touches the dirty surface. Ugh, Harry why this table? He’s looking at my body with such fascination, I can’t help but watch him watch me. His right hand glides across my stomach and moves down until he reaches my thighs. I groan at his slowness. I’m so needy for him, I’m so dependent on his touch. He uses both of his hands to push my thighs apart and his elbows rest on either side of them. He kisses the inside of my thigh, trailing all the way up to my core and two unexpected fingers slip inside me. I’m suddenly finding it a lot harder to watch him, my eyes threatening to close with each pump of his fingers. Harry’s face settles in between my thighs and his tongue teases every part of me. I pray he doesn’t stop. I bite my lip in hopes of holding in a moan. He looks up at me and pulls away just enough for him to be able to speak but he fingers don’t stop. “What have I said about biting that, hmm? Moan, baby. Let the whole building know how good I make you feel.”

I do as he says and release my lip from my teeth. An immediate moan escapes my parted lips and Harry grins. He continues to pump in and out of me while his thumb remains outside, rubbing the spot above my entrance. I call his name out, begging for more. He laps his tongue around my folds and I writher under his touch. My legs begin to shake but he refuses my arrival by pulling away. “Not yet, baby.” He says, taking my leg behind the knee with his left hand. His lips meet with mine when he unexpectedly yet slowly thrusts inside of me. He lets out a low groan as he finally gets the relief he’s been needing. He quickens his pace and holds my back up with his hands, pulling our chests together. I bite into his shoulder, feeling so close to where he’s trying to get me. There isn’t any way we could possibly get closer yet Harry still manages to grip me tighter. His other hand is everywhere, as are his lips.

Y/n, fuck,” he gasps. I feel his back tense under my hands, and I claw at his skin. His thrusts are harder, needier, rougher. His thrusts become pounds which makes me scream but I don’t know if it’s out of pain or pleasure. Maybe pleasureful pain. His hand slips down in between my legs and rubs ferociously. His lips find mine in a feverish approach to pleasure me even more. He’s nearing his high and I’m nearing mine. Everything is pulsing, my heart is threatening to leave my chest. “Let it go, love. Come for me. Come on, kitten,” Harry encourages.

“Harry,” I mumble out, squeezing my eyes shut as I come. This could be the first, this could be the hundredth, but every time, Harry makes me feel like I’m flying. I’m weightless in his arms and I beg him to release. “Come, Harry. I know you’re close, God your cock feels so good. Come in me, please.”

He continues thrusting and leaves scattered kisses along my neck. “Y/n,” he breathes. His legs shake and his movements weaken. “God, y/n.” Soft lips are touching my own and he stills himself, despite the tremors quaking throughout his back and legs. He sighs into my neck and bites down softly. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he says, still tense. Still pressed inside me. His breaths are shallow and rapid. He pulls out of me and I sigh.

“Harry,” I begin, grazing my nails along his skin. He kisses my lips tenderly and presses his forehead to mine. “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much,” he replies and backs away from me, looking at my painted body. “I told you I’d make a mess of you.” Harry laughs while bending down to grab my bra for me. The paint has crusted over and I can’t wait to wash it off of me, though I have a feeling Harry will want to do that for me.


My wet hair is wrapped in a towel while Harry and I are sprawled on the couch watching reruns of friends. His wet hair has drenched my (his) t shirt since he decided to lay his head on my stomach. My palm rests on his chest, rising and falling with every breath. “Are we more like Ross and Rachel or Monica and Chandler?” he asks.

“Definitely Monica and Chandler,” I state. “Ross and Rachel were so off and on, you know? But like, Monica and Chandler were friends first, never thought they’d be together but they’re hands down the best couple.”

Harry nods in agreement. “I’m tired.”

“Hmm, you should be.” I glance at the clock. 2:34. “Go to sleep, babe.” I insist. It’s not unusual for us to fall asleep on the couch but Harry slowly gets up and looks at me with tired eyes. He grabs my hand and pulls the two of us off of the couch. I turn the tv off before he drags us to my bedroom. Immediately, he flops on the bed, not even bothering to get in. “Oh c'mon, Haz.” I nudge him. “Just a little more energy to get you into bed.”

“No,” Harry resists, snuggling his head deeper into the pillow.

I attempt to pull the sheets out from under him. Successfully doing so, I try lifting up his heavy legs to push them under the comforter. He mumbles something I can’t decipher. Though it’s probably just a complaint about me trying to get him into bed. God, it’s like taking care of a child. “Okay, baby,” I say, pull the sheet up to his shoulders and I crawl in on my side. I’m not even in bed when Harry’s arm reaches for any part of me pull me close to him. He manages to grab my torso, completely letting me mold into his position.

We both fall asleep rather quickly, but his hushed snores arrive before mine, though I’m positive I don’t snore. Harry says otherwise. Even though I think he’s lying he says it doesn’t matter if I actually snore or not because he says I’m perfect either way. Perfect, perfect, perfect. He’s always telling me how perfect I am and every day I look at him and wonder how I could’ve been so damn lucky to have this man in my life.

He says I’m the best artist that ever was, but a painter will get nowhere without their inspiration.

fin.

[authors note • pretty please send requests/ prompts :) thank you for reading!!]

A Proposal by Any Other Name, Chapter 32: Breakfast | A Reylo fanfic

READ CHAPTER 32 HERE (On AO3)

Chapter summary: Kylo & Rey find themselves locked in a two-person war to see who can one-up the other with this fake-engaged nonsense, and … well, the tensions start bleeding into their lives in private.

Chapter preview: 

Rey throws him a dirty look. He smiles to himself and starts walking. 

“Do you give all of your friends pet names?” Rey asks, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as they make their way down the street, Kylo keeping a far closer eye out for sharp objects than Rey, who seems to care very little that she’s walking barefoot on a dirty sidewalk. 

“Only the cute ones.”

She slaps him with a shoe to the arm and he hisses, trying not to make a big show of it. “Don’t tease me.”


Author’s note: <3 I’m pretty sure this is the longest chapter this story has ever seen. You’re welcome. Enjoy ;) 

Heartbeat (Jeff Hardy X Reader)

Based on Heartbeat by Carrie Underwood

I told you all I’m trash for song based fics.

Currently working on my next AJ story. But I had this finished and waiting for editing in my drafts so I decided to edit this and post it before starting something new. 

Warnings: mentions of parent death and the emotions that go along with that.

Summary: When your mom dies your loving husband does his best to help you.

Keep reading

Anytime

For the anon who requested 17 and 43 with Gibbs “Can I have this dance?” & “You’re shivering.” thanks!

You sniffled angrily and ran your hands over your face quickly wiping away the few stray tears that had managed to spill over. You kept your head down, shivering slightly as you picked up your pace.

You sniffed back another bout of angry tears, regretting deciding to walk the ten minute walk back to your apartment rather than calling for a cab; it was far too cold for this. You were less than five minute from home, from bed, and a glass of wine, and a nice movie when your awful night got impossibly worse.

Your heel caught on a piece of uneven sidewalk and snapped off, causing you to tumble forward and hit the ground knees first. Bursting into tears was becoming a more and more likely outcome at this point, and for about five seconds you considered giving up there and just keeling over.

“(Y/N)?” A voice called from in front of you and you watched as a familiar pair of shoes came into view. You sat back, quickly wiping your face clean but it didn’t wipe away the red eyes or the next wave of tears ready and willing to let gravity take them.

“Hey Gibbs.” You hiccuped, giving him what you hoped was a reassuring smile – it wasn’t. Your boss regarded you for a moment before smiling and offering a hand to help you stumble to your feet.

“What were you doing down there?” He asked, keeping a firm hand on your forearm. You offered him another slightly watery smile before leaning down to pop your shoe off, showing him the busted heel.

“Shoe broke, I don’t usually make habits of lying on dirty DC sidewalks.” Gibbs gave you a slightly amused smile and a friendly face was enough to suck the next batch of tears back in until later when you weren’t standing on a public street.

“You’re shivering.”

“Huh?” You asked, tilting your head before, “Oh.” You were, you’d forgotten how chilly you’d been and how you’d been rushing to get him to your warmth, “I’m fine. I should’ve brought a coat.” Before you could even really register what was going on Gibbs was wrapping his jacket around your shoulders and smiling.

“You live close don’t you?” You nodded, “Well you’re not going to walk there shoeless, I’ll hail a cab.” And just like that you found yourself riding with your boss the short ride to your apartment building.

“What brings you to this part of the city?” You asked, picking at a loose string on the hem of your dress.

“Favorite Thai place is here, and they don’t deliver to my neighborhood, so sometimes I come and pick it up.” The cab stopped and Gibbs helped you out as you dug in your purse for your key, leaning on him to keep your bare foot off the sidewalk.

Suddenly you found yourself wanting anything but to be left alone in your apartment all evening to wallow on how poor everything went, and before you could ever think about it you spoke.

“Well my dinner plans happened to fall though if you wanted to stick around. Thai sounds good, and they probably deliver here.” Gibbs smiled at your and nodded, taking the key from your hand and helping you hop inside.

Upstairs he made himself comfortable on your sofa and you placed an order for delivery before joining him and handing over a glass of whisky while you settled down with a glass of wine.

“Sorry if you’re not a whisky or something, but it’s this or wine and I kinda assumed…” Gibbs smiled and nodded.

“Whisky is fine, (Y/N).” You sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Gibbs cleared his throat slightly and looked at you, “Are you… alright?”

“I’m fine,” You answered quickly, shrugging. “Fine, really.”

“Sounds about as unfine as it can get. Want to talk about it.” you thought about it for a moment before shrugging and shaking your head.

“I’m okay. I just…” You laughed slightly, waving your hand and blushing as you felt the tears again, “My own fault I thought maybe this time he changed. Just some jackass. We were going to go dancing and get dinner and well… No show. No call, not even a text. Just nothing.” You sat for another silent moment before Gibbs put his drink down and stood up, offering you a hand.

“What?”

“Well dinner is already on it’s way.”

“And?” You asked, brows knitting in confusion.

“I’m giving you the night you were promised. Can I have this dance?“ You laughed and allowed him to pull you from your sofa.

“There’s not music.” You pointed out, allowing your boss to pull you close, swaying slightly in your small living room to music that wasn’t even there.

“Eh, we don’t need it.” You laughed in agreement and allowed him to lead, keeping you close to him. “(Y/N) it’s not your fault.”

“I-”

“No. Say it. Not your fault.” Gibbs ordered and you flushed slightly, biting your lip and nodding, giving Gibb’s a slight squeeze.

“Not my fault.” You whispered, “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He promised, leaning and pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I swear.”

datanullyx  asked:

Mulder and Scully, 26.

Thank you :)

26. “I didn’t intend to kiss you.”


Two sounds filled up Mulder’s ears: the sound of their feet against the pavement and Scully’s deep intakes of breath between strides.
He wasn’t sure how long they’d been running but it felt like miles. His legs were beginning to burn and he couldn’t even begin to imagine how Scully must feel with her short legs in those heels. As it was she was keeping up with him fine and for that Mulder was grateful.
They’d been partners for less than a year but he’d known from the moment he met Dana Scully that he wouldn’t need to hold back for her. The streets of Chicago were dark and as they slowed and took in their surroundings Mulder was sure he had no idea where they were and Scully wasn’t offering up anything helpful.
They finally stopped on the dirty sidewalk of a dark narrow street in what had to be a bad part of the city but Mulder couldn’t find the energy to care.
The case had not been one either of them had chosen themselves but had been handed to them by A.D. Skinner. He said it was a run of the mill serial killer but from what the pair had just seen it looked more like cult activity.
Scully cursed just loud enough for her partner to hear as she bent at the waist with her hands on her knees.
“I think we….” Mulder started to say right as a car turned slowly down the street.
Scully didn’t seem to notice so in a moment of panic he grabbed her hand and pushed her up against the nearest wall.
He covered her with his body and though later he would insist it was instinct that caused his next action when he was alone at night he knew it was really the feeling of her soft body against his.
Mulder’s lips crushed against hers and he held on to her tightly. For a moment Scully didn’t move against him and he hoped she wouldn’t break and slap him. Finally she wound her arms around his neck and dug her fingers into his hair.
The car was slow and even the soft silk of Scully’s lips against his couldn’t get rid of the fear in the pit of his stomach.
Both stiffened slightly when the headlights hit them but they didn’t pull apart.
Scully’s grip grew tighter as the car stopped in front of them.
“Folks I think it’s time you moved along home, this really isn’t the place.” The voice broke through to them and they jumped apart both blinking into the bright beam of a police officers flashlight.
Mulder’s arms remained around Scully but he nodded to the officer, “Yeah you’re probably right. Thanks officer.”
The light stayed on them for a moment until Scully pulled away from the wall and pulled on his sleeve.
Mulder held up a hand and took Scully’s hand on instinct. The cop car rolled away and there was a good moment of awkward silence.
“Mulder…” Scully started uncomfortably as she pulled her hand out of his.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to kiss you. I panicked.” Mulder said shoving his hands in his pockets self-consciously.
They walked quietly for a little while longer until Scully bumped his shoulder with hers.
“It’s okay, just give me a heads up next time.”
Mulder smiled down at her to see her returning it and bumped her back.
“I’ll keep that in mind. First, though, let’s find the car.”
“Sounds like a plan.” She took his hand and they continued in the darkness together.

He Gets Exhausted Easily [a Barry Allen AU] (Part  20)

a/n: PART 20 WHAT THE SHIT PLEASE RETWEET/SHARE MY VIDEO [x] <- instagram 


| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 |


“W-what if th-they la-laugh at m-me?” Barry frowns, tugging on his gray sweater. The wind picks up around the two of you, messing up his chestnut locks. “Wh-what if-if i-it’s like l-last time?” he asks softly, remembering back to Eddie’s party. His hazel eyes droop slightly, shaky fingers scratching underneath his chin, creating a noise with the scruff.

You sigh, cupping his cheek, rubbing under his eye, along his bone. “It won’t be, baby.” you promise, leaning up to peck his pouty lips. A frown stretches across his face as he looks at you disbelievingly. “Barr, if they do, I will fucking fight every goddamn person in there, I swear to god.” you state, pointing towards the CCPD building firmly, red cardigan hitting your mid thigh.

A giggle leaves him and he blushes hard, gazing down at his black and white converse. He tugs his sweater sleeves to his long fingers, sniffling faintly. “I l-love you…” he mutters, peeking up at you through his full lashes. “P-promise yo-you’ll pi…pick me u-up at tw-tw-twelve?” he begs, holding his brown messenger bag to his chest. You nod proudly, reaching up to fluff his hair. “O-only th-three h-hours?”

“Only three hours.” you confirm, grabbing his trembling hand and kissing his bony knuckles. Barry sighs, pulling you into him. “Then we can go get lunch from Big Belly Burger and go home.” you say, voice muffled by his shirt. His arms squeeze your torso, scruff brushing your neck. Rubbing his back, you pull away, “You’re gonna do great, baby!” you encourage, shooing him inside, smacking his ass before running.

Barry takes a deep breath in, tip toeing into the main lobby. He can do this. Straightening up, he head towards his foster dad and Cisco. “H-hey Joe…wh-what’d you wa-want me t-to do?” he gulps, clenching his bag strap, biting his lip. His mossy green eyes look between the two, anxiety bubbling inside.

Cisco grabs his shoulder, arm stretched across the brunette’s back while Joe gives a proud expression. “Barry, my buddy, mi amigo! Glad you’re getting back in the game. Let me show you to my lair… I mean lab…” he grins, leading Barry up the tan staircase, “It’s great you’re helping; between you and me,” he leans closer, “Julian’s being a total dick and blows my research off like all the time…” he whispers through gritted teeth, bright yellow button down flapping around his Back To The Future t-shirt.

Chuckling, Barry watches his feet pad across the tiled flooring, into another room. “So-sounds like a-an ass-asshole… I-I’ll tr-try to he-help…” he says bashfully, shrugging his shoulders. “S-so, what ki-kind of m-meta are w-we de…dealing with?” he questions, peeling off his messenger bag slowly.

*TIME SKIP*

“So…?” you trail off excitedly, tugging on his soft sleeve, “How was it?”

He shrugs, taking ahold of your hand, swinging it while you walk home, bellies full of food. “O-okay.” he mutters in a bland tone, making you glare playfully at him. A sigh dangles from his lips, “W-anna go ho-home… I’m s-sl-sl…tired.” he grumbles, feet dragging on the dirty sidewalk as he yawns.

Nodding, you watch him rub his eyes. “Take a nap when we get home.”

The moment you step foot in the house, Barry bolts to the couch, curling in on himself. Smiling, you run your hands through his hair, thumb brushing his hairy cheek. In seconds, soft snores come from him. “Oh Barr…what am I gonna do with you?” you hum, pecking his forehead gently.

run away with me

“Run away with me. Stay in a cheap, outdated hotel with me because that’s the only place we can afford, and drive down the car-infested highways with me in a beat up old van and park in the middle of a dark, empty field with me and lay a blanket on the hood and let’s gaze at the diamond-encrusted sky for a couple of hours. The world is our movie theater, the fireflies our actors, the clouds our scenery, our eyes the cameras. Dance with me in the rain, and roll the windows down to let the summer breeze dry our clothes as we race down the back roads. Drive into the city with me. Let’s explore the dirty sidewalks of this concrete jungle and take pictures of our sparkling eyes and unkempt hair that glow in the light of the neon signs. Wear your fanciest clothes with me, and let’s have a night on the town window shopping and and dancing and telling secrets and pretending to own the world. We can’t afford to eat anywhere but the cheap diner with the crappy coffee, but we pretend like we’re in a 5-star restaurant, and with our imaginations, it is one. Travel up the mountains and across the rivers with me. Let’s climb until our arms are sore and sunburnt, swim until our legs ache, and explore until we know every nook and cranny of the earth like the backs of our hands. No mountain is too high and no valley too low and no plain too wide when we explore together. We might not be able to afford fancy clothes and expensive things, but these kind of mind-broadening experiences are free and worth more than all the lamborghinis and louboutins in the world. Run away with me. I promise you won’t regret a thing.”

[DRABBLE] Barista!Jeonghan: Americanos Are For Losers (G)

Prompt: -
Pairing: JiHan (Joshua x Jeonghan)
Genre: Fluff
Word count: 1,717 (WHAT THE HECK HOW??? - adminwooed)
Warnings: None!

A/N: bc jeonghan feels have been absurdly strong these days and jisoo is a pushy boy who wrote himself in as a florist, BUT YAS 1717 WOOED DISCOVERED THAT THE WORD COUNT IS 1717

-HOSHIT

(Also, Jeonghan’s look in the story is basically based on his ajfdlkajslkfjl look here ft glasses enjoy!)



The bell tinkled pleasantly, the arrival of another customer on this strangely busy Thursday morning causing Jeonghan to emit strangled squawks internally as he reconsidered his life choices that led him to be here. Being a barista. At a café. At 9 in the morning.

The softest voice greeted him as Jeonghan’s head snapped up, all curses flying away as he grinned at Jisoo, the florist from across the street. 

“Hello Jisoo! Usual order?”

Without waiting for a reply, Jeonghan already began taking out his coffee grounds, but Jisoo stopped him quickly, hurriedly saying “I want the daily special today!”

“Huh? What’s the occasion, you’ve never changed your order before,” Jeonghan replied cheerfully, as he half-turned his body to kick the storage door behind.

“I, uh, wanted to try something new?” Jisoo sounded uncertain, as if he didn’t know why either. Jeonghan was not interested enough to question further. What he was interested in though, was why Jeon Wonwoo was not opening the storage door quickly enough.  

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The Signs as shit Calvin Fischoeder has done

Aries: gambled with children

Taurus: pretended to have a fake family so he could get laid

Gemini: showed Bob the seedy underbelly of the Wharf with his dick out

Cancer: bought a giant mechanical shark

Leo: performed a song about bourbon and laid down in the ice rink so Felix could (barely) jump over him.

Virgo: gave Bob a box of envelopes for Christmas

Libra: sold the kids a broken bumper car for three bucks

Scorpio: raised everyone’s rent unnecessarily high just for attention

Sagitarrius: laid down on his belly on a dirty sidewalk so he could feed a squirrel cotton candy

Capricorn: was almost indirectly responsible for the deaths of several people when the roller coaster collapsed

Aquarius: set up a folding chair in front of a bank so he could watch a robbery

Pisces: drummed on the door and sang a song so Felix would feel better

The Last Time

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, extremely sad ending

Word Count: 2k

Summary: This one-shot takes place in the 1940s when Bucky learns he is being transferred to the 107th infantry.  Reader is his girlfriend of two years, and he tells her he is leaving.  This one shot will include the fair and the part where Bucky saves Steve from the guy in the movie theatre from First Avenger movie, but they will be different, obviously.  At the end, Reader learns some heartbreaking news.

A/N: I DO NOT own any of the Marvel characters.  I also DO NOT own the plot/scenes from any of the Marvel movies, nor do I own this gif.  I only own the scenes I create between Buck and my reader :)

Originally posted by queercharactersoftheday

As you and Bucky walked down the wet, dirty sidewalk in Queens, you heard the usual shouts from the dark alleyways and the casual screams from apartments overhead.  You saw two men on the other side of the street wave their arms at you with empty beer can bottles laying at their feet.  You turned your head disgusted and moved closer to Bucky.  He gave you a comforting smile and wrapped his arm around you.  You instantly felt safer.

“Have I ever told you how hot you look in this uniform?” You pinched the tan material between your fingers.  Bucky chuckled, and he kissed the top of your head.  

“No, but I can see it in your eyes,” he smiled at you.  You giggled into his shoulder.  You noticed the movie theatre to your right and instantly the smell of popcorn filled your senses.

“I wonder what movie they’re playing at the theatre tonight,” you thought out loud.  Bucky followed your gaze and looked at the theatre.  

“Would you like to see one tonight, doll?” He looked down at your rosy cheeks.  You moved your stare to his eyes and smiled at him.

“No, I’m okay just walking here with you.  Although I am always in the mood for popcorn.”  Bucky laughed and agreed with you.  “Bucky, look.” You two were passing an alleyway situated next to the theatre, and you pointed your finger to the dark abyss.  You felt sick to your stomach when you saw two men fighting, though the smaller one of them was clearly losing.  He was punched into a corner, and he laid in a fetal position holding his stomach.  “That sure does look a lot like–”

“Steve.” Bucky moved his arm down your shoulder and fixed your hand in his.  He sharply turned into the alley and ran towards Steve.  “Y/n, stay back please,” he looked at you with love in his eyes.  It would kill him to see you get hurt.  You nodded your head and backed up against the wall.  You gasped when the man pulled back to punch Bucky, but he swiftly avoided it.  Bucky punched the man square in the jaw, and you cringed at the sound it made.  The man then began to limp away as Bucky delivered one last good kick to send him away.  Once the man was out of sight, you joined Bucky and helped Steve to his feet.  

“Sometimes I think you like getting punched,” Bucky said as you two pulled Steve up.

“Well, Steve, I think you definitely had him.  All you needed was a second wind,” you smiled at Steve, trying to boost his confidence.  Bucky thanked you silently with his eyes and you nodded knowingly.  

Bucky picked up a piece of paper and read it aloud.  “Oh you’re from Paramus now?”  You looked at the paper over Bucky’s shoulder and laughed softly.  

“Jersey, seriously?” You said sarcastically.  Steve rolled his eyes, but suddenly looked taken aback.  He did a once over on Bucky and you could see the realization hit him.  

“You get your orders?” He asked reluctantly.  

“Uh yeah, we’ll talk about that later,” Bucky sent a sideways glance to you at which Steve nodded his head.  Wait, what?  Why was Bucky not talking about this in front of you?  You sent Bucky a questioning look, but he just looked away.  

“Anyways, let’s go,” Bucky threw his arm around Steve and laughed.  

“Where are we going?” Steve grumbled.  Bucky took his arm off Steve and thrusted a newspaper to his chest.  

“The future,” he beamed.  You laughed at his cuteness and wrapped you right arm around his left.  He looked down at you, and you smiled up at him.  He leaned his face to yours and pressed your lips together.  You smiled against his plump lips, and he kissed the corner of your mouth.  With Bucky next to you and Steve following closely behind, you started your journey to the boisterous fairgrounds.

You were standing a few feet away from Bucky and Steve watching the Howard Stark show.  You started to look around fearing that you may have lost them.  You spotted them behind you, and it looked like they were having a slightly heated conversation.  You furrowed your eyebrows together and wondered what they were talking about.  Turning your attention back to the show, you saw about ten girls step out surrounding Mr. Stark.  When you saw the uniforms they were wearing, you rolled your eyes.  Showbiz will do absolutely anything to grab a man’s attention.  Suddenly, you felt an arm slip around your shoulders, but you relaxed when it was only Bucky.  

“Doll, can I talk to you for a second?” He said into your ear over all the noise.  You hugged him from his side and leaned into him.

“Of course.”  As he held your hand, he led you two over to a lit up gazebo away from the noisy show.  You sat down side by side, and you rested your hand on his knee.  “I’ve noticed you talking to Steve apart from me this evening.  Does what you’re about to tell me have anything to do with that?” You asked.

“Yes,” he said with his face to the ground.  “You know how I got my orders right?”

“Yes, Sergeant James Barnes,” you smiled lightly.  He chuckled, but grew serious again.

“107th.  I ship out for England tomorrow morning,” he said softly.  You took a deep breath, and he waited patiently for your reaction.  

“Tomorrow morning? But that’s-but that’s so–” you stuttered.

“Soon. I know,” he sighed.  You felt tears forming in your eyes, but you fought to keep them from escaping.  

“Well, when will you be back?”  You joined Bucky in staring at the ground.  The ground was uncharacteristically quite comforting when it came to situations like this.  

“I don’t know.  I want to say for at least six months, but most likely a year.”  At this you felt a tear roll slowly down your cheek.  It felt warm and wet against your cool skin.  Bucky reached a hand up and wiped it off.  “Please don’t cry, doll,” he pleaded.  

“I-I can’t–” you sniffled.  Bucky pulled you into his arms and held you against him.  You buried your head into the crook between his shoulder and neck and breathed him in.  He had always smelled like home to you.  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Your voice muffled by his clothing.

“I didn’t want it to ruin our last night together.  I want you to be here with me, right now.  I want to spend my last night here breathing in this atmosphere with you by my side,” he smiled at you.

“I love you, James Barnes.”  

“I love you more, y/f/n y/l/n.”

“Y/n, I think you need to let go of me now,” Bucky laughed in your ear.

“No, I’m never letting you go,” you said defiantly.  His laughter died down, and he continued to hold you.  

He had walked you up to your apartment door, and it was getting pretty late.  You knew he needed to go home and get some rest before his journey tomorrow.  However, you had a dismal feeling in the pit of your stomach that you just couldn’t shake.  It felt as though this would be the last time you ever hugged him.  The last time you smelled him.  The last time you felt his skin beneath your fingertips.  You were scared that when he left, you would forget the way he talked or the way he moved.  

You were terrified of losing him.  

“Give me one last kiss,” he whispered.  You looked into his eyes before gently closing your eyelids.  You placed your lips together and kissed him with everything you had.  He cupped your face between his hands and swiped his tongue over yours.  You bit down on his lip causing him to smile.  He then began to place small butterfly kisses on the corners of your mouth, your nose, and your eyelids.  You giggled at this.  

“Whatever happens to me in this lifetime, I hope I never forget you,” he stared down at you.  

“You better not,” you remarked.  

“Goodbye, y/n.”  He kissed your hands.  Tears fell out of your eyes.  

“Goodbye, Bucky.”  He gave you a wink before he turned around and walked down that hallway for the last time…ever.  

It was January of 1945, and it had been almost two years since you last saw Bucky.  You pushed this thought away as you continued to pack up your work bag as you did everyday.  You were about to go catch the subway to reach the factory you worked at when you heard a knock at the door.  In the beginning, you used to fear knocks at the door.  You were scared that you would open it up to reveal two soldiers with the dreaded news that was sure to come.  You had just started to get over that, but for some reason, you felt that fear grow in your chest right now.  

Taking a deep breath, you walked slowly to the door and opened it.  

“Oh?”  You were shocked to find a woman standing there in military dress.

“Hello, I’m Agent Peggy Carter,” she smiled firmly yet it still felt warm.  “Is this the residence of y/f/n y/l/n?”  

“Oh, yes it is,” you replied.  

“I am a friend of Captain Steve Rogers and Sergeant James Barnes.  I regret to inform you–”

“Oh no! Please, God, no,” you cried out.  You felt as though you didn’t have the strength to stand, and you fell to the floor.  You covered your face with your hands and cried loudly.  You no longer cared who heard you.  

Peggy took a deep breath and swallowed down the lump in her throat.  “I regret to inform you that Sergeant James Barnes has been killed in action.”  

“Oh God, please no,” you called out to her.  Your sobs overwhelmed you, and you thought your heart might stop with lack of oxygen.  

“Captain Steve Rogers has been reported missing in action.” Peggy’s voice lowered down to a whisper at the end.  Her heart broke at your sobs, but she stayed strong.  She knelt down until her face was right in front of yours.  She stared at your face, wet with tears.  

“Please no,” you croaked at her.  She gave you a sad smile and placed the envelope at your feet.  You were still crying, and it didn’t seem as though you were going to stop.  

She cleared her throat and said, “We will be sending you any of his possessions he had while at the infantry.  But there was one I felt had to be delivered personally.”  Your vision was blurred due to the tears in your eyes, but you faintly saw her hand reach into her coat and pull something small out.  

A tiny blue velvet ring box.  

You cried out again and grabbed the box from her.  You opened it up and saw a beautiful diamond ring inside.  Holding it close to your heart, you watched as Peggy stood up, brushed her clothing with her hands, and walk back down the hallway.  Sitting against your door, your cries echoed in the hallway and seemed to reverberate around the city.  

And in the end, the things you two had feared most came true: you lost Bucky, and he forgot you….

4

BEHOLD…MY FIRST ART!

So yeah, it’s these three: Mistoffelees, Tugger, and Munkustrap. Time for my personal headcanons!!

Mistoffelees: So, Misto is an itty-bitty kitty, around sixteen years old in human years. He’s fully grown, just small. He lives with Munkustrap and The Rum Tug Tugger, on a rich human family’s estate. He loves the high-class lifestyle, and Bustopher Jones (a cat who lives nearby, on a similar estate) is his idol. However, since Munkustrap is the Jellicle cats’ protector, and Tugger loves attention, he often followed them back to the alleyways, and grew to love the place just as much, if not more, than his pristine home. (In contrast to Bustopher Jones, who despises being in the dirty roads and sidewalks). He was adopted from a shelter, and no one knows who his parents are. As far as anyone is aware, he has no familial ties to the Jellicles, but he is absolutely one of them. As for his magic, well…some of it is a trick. But he definitely has the real deal, too. 

The Rum Tug Tugger: About 32 in human years, Tugger is a big fluffy boi. His owners actually shaved him so just his chest, neck, head, and tail tip were furred. The rest is just dark-colored skin. As a kitten, Tugger grew up idolizing Grizabella the Glamour Cat, who performed in plays and songs with Asparagus the Theatre Cat. They were a well-known pair, but to Tugger, Grizabella was the star. When…things happened (will write in a later headcanon), when he was just a kitten, he was heartbroken. So he decided to be an even-better performer than Griz (plus he wanted others to notice him more), but in his own way. AKA, act really suave and mysterious and indecisive. But Mistoffelees and Munkustrap know the true Tugger: an annoying giant who can never make a clear decision. “A terrible bore.”

Munkustrap: Munkustrap, in human years, is about 28. I actually headcanon he’s Tugger’s younger brother, but because he grew up with such a…character, he grew a little more reserved to compensate. He was never formally assigned “protector” but because he hung out in the alleyways and helped out so many cats, he soon became perfect for the role. He does have one secret, though: while he was young (about 17 or 18) he actually helped Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer (both around 15 at the time) with a heist. He feels insermountable guilt over it (even though all they stole was a roast chicken) and has vouwed to never break human law again. Mungo and Rumpel find it hilarious. 

turn to dust | i’m dancing with the devil; everything i want i found (drug dealer!au)

‘A good girl meets a bad boy’ cliché except no one is really good and no one is really bad; there is only existing, trying, and failing; there are neon lights, dark alleyways with dirty sidewalks, too many cigarettes and not enough conversations; her stacked textbooks collecting dust and his broken-in boots that he wears to outrun cops. It starts in the wrong place, at the wrong time and finishing it may be the only way to right it, but they might be incapable when in quiet rooms and early morning diners, it almost seems glorious.

i. stars - the xx // ii. nightcall - london grammar // iii. nicotine dreams - laurel // iv. young god - halsey // v. fire breather - laurel // vi. the sun - the naked and famous // vii. river - bishop // viii. devil devil - milck // ix. better than heaven - block party // x. turn to dust - wolf alice // xi. desire - meg meyers // xii. smoke stacks - layla // xiii. medicine - daughter

Don’t imagine this. Just keep on scrolling past this ridiculously stupid thing I’ve done.

Masterlist

I loved loved drunk Mike! Maybe another drunk Barba, but instead of the dom one that you did, a more romantic one?

“Come on, Rafi! It’ll be fun!”

“Absolutely not, cariño. Do you remember what happened the last time I got drunk, hm?”

You looked towards the ceiling, hand under your chin, pretending like you had to recall the time he was referring to.

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Newt x reader :: Melody of the Heart

Request: Hey, I saw requests were open! I love your blog and I’ve been harboring this idea for a long time… Could you write a oneshot where you are friends with Newt but lost touch after his expulsion? You were an extremely talented witch but to everyone’s surprise, you became a classical pianist in the muggle and wizarding world. Newt showed up to a concert out of curiosity and saw you and the two of you confessed and kissed? Sorry if that made no sense and thank you!!

Notes: I’m baaaaaack, haha. Please enjoy this little story featuring an extraordinary piece of music, an extraordinary feeling, and an extraordinary person…you! (Please excuse the awfully cheesy title…it sounds like a high-school romance anime, hah.)

WC: 2,016

Music is a powerful form of magic. It forces the soul to feel and draws the heart out to dance.

Coming from one of those pure-blood families whose line stretched far into the fog of the past, whose pride sometimes bordered on arrogance, and whose expectations felt like a boulder carved perfectly to rest on your shoulders didn’t make your career choice smooth by any means.

You had sacrificed in nearly every aspect in your life to get to where you were now: backstage in a large concert hall. After an illustrious career at Hogwarts, where you excelled in nearly every class and became a prefect, you decided to become a concert pianist. Everyone had expected you to continue the family tradition of working in the Ministry. Your father, mother, and two elder brothers all enjoyed very high positions that demanded responsibility and intelligence and a very, very large amount of paperwork. You fell in love with the piano instead.

You could sometimes tell when wizards and witches would come to your shows. They’d wear their dress robes and throw you proud grins that said, “Yes, we know you. We know what you are.” They’d clap enthusiastically and hand you bouquets of flowers so large you could barely wrap your arms around them. For all the support you got from other magic folk, one group that never showed up was your family.

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Set Me Free - Part 1

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate
Pairing: Jacob Frye x Reader
Chapters: 1/3 
Rating: Mature
Plot: The Reader is having troubles paying for her rent and is harassed by the house owner and his Blighters. A certain Mister Frye will prove to be a wonderful ally, helping her to finally take the persecutor down and eventually offering her a place into the Rooks.
Warnings: Blood, attempted rape.

Author’s note: This was actually supposed to be a oneshot, but then I noticed it was becoming already way too long so I’m going to split it in two parts. Hope you enjoy!

Originally posted by jacobfryeisbae

You have to call up all your strength as you stare at the man in front of you, his dark and stern eyes studying the envelope you placed on the table and meticulously counting the money contained inside.

Of course he’s not impressed with the amount you gave him, not that you weren’t expecting such a reaction from the brute. You did all you could to gather those precious pounds, but you also have to buy your own food and possibly get some new, cheap clothes from time to time. You may not be the richest woman in London, but hell! You still remain a human being with primary needs after all. This rent is literally draining your whole soul out right now and the more time passes by, the more the overall debt seems to increase for some inexplicable reason.

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