everything important to him was taken away in a few mere moments

→ Paper Doll (pt. 1)

Originally posted by sugutie

☆ pairing → Jungkook x Reader

☆ genre → idol+singer-songwriter!au, drama, slight angst

 warning sexual themes with smut in the next chapters, mentions of past unhealthy relationship 

☆ word count   → 2.1k

summary   → When the nation’s little sister, IU, gets into a huge scandal, your agency seizes the opportunity to thrust you into that now vacant spotlight. Your self-composed song Paper Doll becomes an overnight sensation, and soon people are itching to find out who was the one who broke your heart. All hell breaks loose once netizens discover that you used to date popular idol, Jeon Jungkook. Little do they know that it wasn’t him who left the relationship unscathed –  it was you.

alternatively: a story on the consequences of a hit break-up song

pt i |pt ii | pt iii| pt iv (coming soon!)

a/n  → so basically this is me being coerced into writing jjk smut 
edit: pt i is more of a prologue

[+11,435; -2,003] this really breaks my image of him… proves how you can’t judge someone from their personality on camera

[+9,386; -1,983] all this time he was pretending to be super innocent haha all those stupid fangirls throwing money at him blindly must be going crazy

[+5,903; -1,234] i mean everyone goes through break-ups, but he was cosplaying as an innocent guy who was scared of skinship with girls all these years.. lmao he’s super shamel–

The words on the screen in front of him all blurred and bled into one big stain. He quickly scrolled through the hundreds and hundreds of comments, each more condemning than the last. A steady pressure was building in his ears, until the only thing he could see or feel were the accusations of a faceless crowd, all jeering at him loudly, fingers pointed.

It was as if his entire life flashed in front of his eyes right then, and he could suddenly recall every inconsequential and significant thing that had shaped his life the past seven years – the hours and hours spent in front of the mirror rehearsing the same steps over and over again, the taste of soggy ramen Hoseok hyung had let overcook last week, the screams of fans, the sound of his alarm clock, the look on your face when you told him it was over. There was no chronology to the kaleidoscope of fleeting glimpses of his past.

“What,” he breathed, hands shaking, eyes wide and disbelieving as his phone fell with a clatter on the table. He desperately wanted to ignore reality, but the stares that were all focused on him kept him grounded to the present.

Of course his first scandal would be linked to you.

Keep reading

The Labyrinth Chapter 35

Originally posted by bts-we-are-bulletproof

Genre: Gang AU/ High School AU

Pairing: Reader/Jimin ft. all the members

Length: 4.6k

Summary: Looking back on your past, your life has never been anything out of the ordinary. Although your parents had left you on one mysterious night, leaving you little to no explanations, you live out the rest of your years residing in a new town under the custody of your aunt. That is, until you return to your hometown to investigate the whereabouts of your parents during your senior year in high school. It was that fateful decision that led you to find a boy collapsed on your front porch one night, wounds gaping and life fading when your entire life is spun out of control. Somehow being dragged into a life of crimes in the underground business of his, you discover the twisted secrets hidden behind the world you thought you had known all along. 

1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35

Keep reading

Playing for Keeps

Rugby!Natsu commission for @hellojawsie! Thank you so much for being so patient, Katie! You are so kind ^^

pairing: nalu, mentions of gajevy

characters: natsu, lucy, levy, mentions of gajeel

word count: 2,015

type: fluffy fluff

Lucy knew next to nothing about rugby. She knew that people could get easily injured while playing the sport: their arms could get broken or their faces badly beaten. She even knew someone who had their foot in a cast after all the bones in their foot were crushed. If she was honest, she cared little about the sport.

But she cared so much about one person that played it.

Natsu Dragneel had been her one and only crush all throughout high school. She entered into class one day like normal, and during a boring lecture she peered out the window and saw him throwing around a ball with his teammates. His rose colored hair shone in the sunlight and stood out against the rest of the hues of brown and black, catching her attention right away. After he tossed the ball to a teammate, Natsu looked up and saw her staring at him. He waved and smiled, which stole her heart and further took her attention away from class.

From that moment on, Natsu knew that they were destined to be friends. Yelling a quick goodbye to his friends, he bounded up the steps and began to search for her classroom. After a few moments of hunting, he burst into the room and asked who the ‘weird blonde girl who was starin’ at me,’ was. Natsu’s green eyes stared into hers when the entire class turned and gaped at Lucy, and a grin spread across his face as he strode toward her quickly and stood above her with his fists on his hips.

“Weirdo,” he began, leaning over and picking her up out of her chair, “you’re comin’ with me.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

It sounds super angsty, but if you haven't already written it, maybe an unrequited, one-sided love thing between the RFA guys and MC?

I’ve been really busy lately, sorry :C 

Warning: Angst/Heartbreak



He was so welcoming, warmly including you in everything

He would text you all the time, venting his frustrations about LOLOL—he trusted you out of all the RFA, after all

Soon, it turned into calls, where he happily chatted away to you as he gamed

“Pffft hahaha, you’re so funny, MC!! You always make my gaming nights better…” his enthusiastic response made your heart race. “I love talking to you, MC.”

You took pride in that.

He became more and more special to you, and it warmed your heart every time you talked to him. You wanted to learn more about him.

He always took interest in what you said, and listened attentively even to your pointless, frustrated rants. He sincerely responded to your concerns, and often brought up inside jokes in the chat room, forming a barrier between the two of you and everyone else.

A special little world that nobody else could enter.

“I can’t wait to meet you,” he shyly told you. It was finally the day before the RFA party. Your heart beat quickly, warm fuzziness bubbling in your chest.

“Yoosung… I have something to tell you tomorrow,” you decided, blushing as you told him. He was the one who made you feel happy…the one who cracked jokes and made you laugh on your gloomiest days… the one who listened to all your troubles. He hummed softly, murmuring, “Okay. There’s something I’ve also been meaning to tell you, too. I’m worried if I’ll be rejected but… I can’t hold back anymore.”

That night, you couldn’t sleep from pure anticipating of the next day. You woke up early to make yourself look as pretty as possible for Yoosung. First impressions were important, after all.

Upon arriving at the party hall, you immediately recognized him—you were in love with him, after all. You called out to him happily, and he rushed over with a big smile on his face, but it almost immediately turned into a frown as he reached you.

“You’re Yoosung, right?! I’m MC!” you exclaimed, beaming happily.

“I see. You look… different than I thought you would,” he murmured, a distant look in his eyes as he avoided your gaze. “I thought you’d maybe have like, blonde hair and green eyes, or something.”

Your heart caught in your throat as soon as the words left his mouth. Rika. He’d expected you to look like Rika. Biting back tears, you forced a giggle, as if he’d just said something funny.

“So, what did you want to tell me?” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t really have time to talk, so can you make it quick?”

Yoosung seemed so annoyed and irritated by your mere presence, guiltlessly expressing it in his words, tone and body language. It was a complete turnaround from the sweet boy you had known for the last few weeks. Correction: the sweet boy you thought you had known.

“Nothing important,” you muttered, clenching your fists as tears spilled from your eyes. “I was in love with you. I am in love with you. And I guess I know now that you’ll never feel the same.”

He stared back expressionlessly at you. “Love? I’m sorry, but it’s impossible for me to ever like you back. You’re really far off from my type,” he laughed as if it was a joke.

You couldn’t figure out what the hell was so funny. He was laughing at the way you had felt for him for months. He was laughing at the feelings you had cherished. He was laughing at you.

And it only smashed what remained of your heart to smithereens.

He was never in love with you.


From the moment you first met him, he’d been flirty and welcoming to you. He was always protective of you in the chatrooms, and he called you often to check up on you, asking things like:

“MC, have you eaten today? I hope you’re taking care of yourself properly, I’ll get worried, you know…”

“Hey… Can you see the moon from where you are? When you look at the moon at night, I want you to think of me… watching over you like your very own guardian angel. If you ever need anything, you know that I’m here right?”

“Do I need to beat up Jumin for you?! He was being way too insensitive just now!”

Naturally, you felt gravitated to Zen. He made you feel so… secure. He was always offering to help you, talking with you late at night, comforting you when you were sad… He made you feel so damn special. He sure didn’t treat Jaehee like this, and you took quiet, guilty pride in that.

A week after you realized that you had fallen in love with him—his caring personality, his deep thoughts, his laugh, his passion for acting… his everything—he asked you out on a date.

You almost screamed into your pillow from excitement. Did he like you back?! Could Zen possibly return your feelings?

You waited for him in the cafe, your eyes anxiously searching for his figure. You had taken 3 hours to braid your own hair (with great difficulty), and chose the perfect outfit to meet with him for the date. You waited 2 hours for him, sitting all alone. But he never came.

You dialled his phone number, wondering if he was stuck in traffic or late from rehearsals. He picked up on the second tone, drunkenly answering, “Mmn… hello, who’s this?”

“Um, Zen? It’s me, MC… did something happen? I’m still waiting…”

He howled in laughter, sounding like he was really enjoying himself. “You’re still waiting?! What the fuck, woman, what makes you think you’re anything special to me? I was only betting with my friend that I could make you fall for me. I can’t believe you fell for it so easily.”

He continued to laugh, finding it absolutely hilarious that you believed his nice guy act. He had purposely stood you up. Rather, he never intended to come in the first place.

His words were like a slap to your face. It was obvious now.

Zen didn’t care about you at all.

You stayed quiet, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that you were actually crying right now.

You had wasted so much time on him. All because you liked him, and because you thought he could even possibly like you back.

“Helloooo? Are you still there?” he hiccupped.

You couldn’t answer, holding back your sobs.

“Oh right, anyway, thanks for helping me win the bet. Haha, byeee!”

“Yeah. No problem. Anything for you, Zen,” you weakly replied, sarcasm hidden in your undertone.

But it was true. You would have done anything for him. He’d just never do the same for you.


From the start, you’d been attracted to his unique sense of humour, awkward personality, and passion for cats. Not to mention, he was pretty fucking rich.

Although you weren’t after him for the money, you had to admit, it was part of what interested you at first. Emphasis on “at first.”

After spending evenings at fancy dinners with him, long nights drinking in bars after work hours, and occasionally messaging each other every day possible… you realized how much more there was to Jumin than you’d originally thought.

Although he seemed carefree and pushed all the tasks to Jaehee, he actually drowned himself in work for hours as well. When you spent time together, he would always be jotting down notes and reading printed documents as he conversed with you—he was probably used to it from discussing business deals all the time.

Not to mention, he was very attached to his cat because he didn’t have the time nor opportunity to interact with anyone that wasn’t trying to conduct business with him. You could feel your own heart hurt for him, realizing how lonely he must be.

Not to mention the fact that there were many young men (such as Zen,) who thought of Jumin as a rich snob, and was against the idea of being friendly. You could only imagine how rejected Jumin must feel, despite acting nonchalant every time.

Your heart and mind was consumed with thoughts of Jumin, of how he felt, of how he was suffering… You yearned to know him better, and you found yourself being more eager than ever in your conversations and nights out together.

One night, you finally brought up the courage to bring up the topic of himself. Excited to share your opinion, you said, “You know, I completely understand that you must feel lonely and all, even though you never mention it! It must suck that nobody understands you… You’re always working so hard, and nobody ever acknowledges it, but I know that-“

He paused mid-sip from his wine, then slowly put the glass down. “MC.” His voice was cold, stern and almost tired. “Why are you saying this?”

You blushed. “Well… I mean… I guess I’ve fallen in love with you,” you whispered, looking shyly into your lap. “I’ve learned so much about you over all this time, and-“

He scoffs, eyes hardening into a glare. “MC… Do you really believe that you know me?” he asks, shaking his head in disbelief. “Everything that you just said… is it not simply your idea of me? You’re not in love with me, MC. You’re in love with the ideal version of me that you’ve created in your own head. Could you be any more delusional and hypocritical when you say that no one understands me? You don’t know me either, MC. Don’t fool yourself otherwise.”

You return his glare with a pleading gaze. “That’s not it, Jumin! I really do understand! I’m not assuming, but it’s just what I’ve realized after spending so much time with you-“

Again, he cut you off. He seemed to be doing that a lot today.

“I only spent time with you to ensure that you would remain subservient to the RFA. Our meetings were like business to me, MC.”

He stood up, turning to leave you alone at the table. A lone $100 bill was all that sat with you.


This kid was absolutely hilarious! He took on such a cheerful persona in the chatrooms, cracking jokes at random and spamming memes everywhere. But he really did make you laugh.

On days when you felt gloomy, tired of every little thing that was happening in your life, and overall upset, Seven managed to cheer you up, sending you cute texts. They ranged from, “Your Defender of Justice, SEVEN OH SEVEN, will protect your happiness!!” to pictures of his own cosplay, where he attempted (attempted.) to look seductive.

He quickly gained a special place in your heart. Not everyone managed to cheer you up just like that.

One day after the RFA party, Seven invited everyone to the zoo. During the trip, you kept trying to get closer to him, standing near him as you pretended to be awed by the penguins… ‘accidentally’ bumping into him… lying that you didn’t have money to buy a drink and asking to share…

(Although, FYI, that last one didn’t work. Why? Well, the trust fund kid was there, duh.)

Seven drove you and Yoosung home, considering Zen took his motorcycle, and Jaehee tagged along with Jumin to return to the office. After Yoosung left, you were nervous to be alone with the man that you’d grown feelings for.

Almost as if reading your mind, Seven broke the silence, “MC. I’m not suggesting that this is possible, but if you think that you have any sort of feelings for me, please forget it. I… will never fall in love.”

You stared at him quietly, unsure what to say. You hadn’t been TOO obvious in expressing your feelings… you’d really as subtle as subtle could get!

Instead, you opted for, “I don’t get what you’re talking about?”

He glanced at you from the side before turning his eyes back to the road. “You can ignore what I’m saying if you haven’t had any weird thoughts about us being anything more than friends. But otherwise, just be aware that I’ll never fall in love with anyone okay? This isn’t some crappy fairytale. It’s real life, and you’re not going to waltz into my life and change it.”

You nodded slowly, avoiding looking in his direction. “Uhm, yeah…” you awkwardly responded, voice barely above a whisper.

What the hell were you supposed to say? You’d been rejected before you even had the chance to confess. Haha. Ahaha.

The tears welled up in your eyes before you knew it. But you couldn’t let him see. At the very least, you wouldn’t let him know how his words had affected you. You wouldn’t let him know that you actually had fallen in love with him, that his warning came too late.

You wouldn’t allow yourself to ruin the friendship between you two. Seven was too important to you.

You dashed out of his car as soon as he pulled over on your street, not even daring to say goodbye.

A Chronic Love

A Chronic Love

Originally posted by leojuseyo

Reader x Yoongi

Fluff-ish, Implications of Smut, Maybe a Second of Angst

Words: 6,544

Request: Could I request a scenario where Yoongi and the reader hate eachother, but one day in college they’re paired up for a group project, and then when they go to Yoongi’s house something happens? I’d prefer a lot of fluff and if you want you can do smut at the end or something. Thank you !! I never get over cliche fanfictions <3

High school was hell. Everywhere you went, you couldn’t escape your nuisance of a neighbor Min Yoongi. It was bad enough that every night, that should have been silent, was filled with the rap music that floated from his open window into your tightly shut window, but your time at school was also disturbed by his treacherous presence.

Everyday was the same. You woke up to some classical music coming from Yoongi’s house, which was arguably the best part of your day, and began to make your way to school. At school, without fail, you would be in the middle of second period when Yoongi would laze his way through the unlocked classroom door and take a seat right behind you, reminding you of the day when you were in third grade when Yoongi cut a chunk of your hair off. It was safe to say every time he sat behind you, you felt a shiver go down your back.

Somehow, probably by the counselor, she never liked you, you had nearly every class with Mr. I Don’t Care himself. The majority of your life was spent with the bane of your existence, so naturally when you were accepted into your dream college, very far from home, you were excited to finally leave this part of your life behind you. Unfortunately, dreams rarely come true.

Keep reading

Libraries and Piragua (Lin-Manuel x Reader)

Summary: You were sexiled by your roommate on a day that you’d kill just to collapse into bed. You end up passing time with someone that makes your day end on a high note.

Word Count: 1,340

Warnings: Aimless plot, mentions of sex (nothing graphic), cussing, mentions of death (but character death like Abuela Claudia’s death in ITH mentioned is what I’m saying)

A/N: College AUs are my weakness, this is a demonstration of my knack for tying In The Heights into literally anything (and making my Classical Tradition professor proud with my Sophocles reference). Also, I am obsessed with the way Lin’s eyes are so expressive and was forced to take out approximately 1,000 references to them from this fic during proofreading.

“Please [Y/N]? You owe me from that time you broke the coffee machine, [Y/N].” you muttered, mocking your roommate’s pleas as you trudged across campus to the library. You planned on mocking your own stupidity for agreeing to her request once you were done being annoyed with her. She had to pick the one day you ended up having a terrible, rushing-everywhere, everything-goes-wrong kind of day to seal the deal with the guy she’s been pining over for months. 

You yanked open the door to the library with an unnecessary amount of force before you stalked inside. You made it upstairs, appreciative of the near empty scene. There was only a few people scattered among the tables or computers along the wall. At least you knew you’d be left alone with your bitterness. 

You pulled out a chair to toss your bag onto before shedding your jacket. Once you got settled in, you pulled out your headphones and laptop. You popped in one headphone and scanned your library looking for a song that might ease your exasperation. Once you had it playing you pulled out your textbook and leafed through it, debating whether you wanted to be productive or not. You settled on not and shoved it away before pulling your laptop closer. With your one free ear you heard a chuckle and you internally sighed before turning to find its source. The table to your right had a boy who was looking at you amused. You wondered if the dark circles under his eyes meant he was as exhausted as you were.

Keep reading


Bit on the ‘what if’ side of things, but I think we would all want a girl like this for Harry, in one way or another. (On a side note this is my all time favorite gif of him) 

Let me know what you thought, here, loves! I am accepting requests :-)

Originally posted by 1dcaradelevingne-blog

Harry had a habit of keeping you close.

Always, but most especially when it came to being out in public. The fans, well, it was no surprise that despite their dedication they were a bit much at times. Not just with their words, but their actions too. He wanted to protect you from it, because as much as he loved his fans, he loved you more.

He kept you tucked tightly to his side whenever he could, whether it was you two grabbing some food or simply leaving for a quick stroll, he didn’t like you being too far away. It was this fear that had kept him from admitting his feelings to you and from taking the jump from really good friends to significant others. His life was crazy, and he didn’t want that to affect you. Even when you two had been the best of friends, he had kept you hidden from the public eye. You were his, and his alone, private, a hidden treasure of sorts and he wasn’t quite ready to share you with anyone else, let alone the world.

Even today, he’s gripping your hand a bit too tightly as you struggle to keep up with his long strides. Admittedly, it’s a bit crazier than usual. It’s one of the boys’ biggest concerts on this tour, which is exactly why Harry had insisted on flying you out for it. It’s not that you hadn’t seen the boys perform before, you had. You’d been backstage at the X factor and with Harry every step of the way since then. However, you had never been to a show in the U.S., and Harry knew better than to listen to your protests of the plane ticket being too expensive. “Doesn’t matter, love. Want yeh here.”

It really came as no surprise then,  that the fans are lined up outside the hotel in a gregorious multitude, and that the roped polls and army of men dressed in black and appointed to your protection  looked significantly tiny in comparison.  The concert isn’t until tomorrow, the boys getting a much needed day of rest before. Or, they had planned.

You can’t help but look around in awe at all the commotion. Despite the lack of red carpet under your feet, you feel like you are indeed walking one. The fans are screaming left and right, startling bright signs waving around carelessly in exchange for even a second of the boys’ attention. There’s crying too, a lot in fact. You can hear it from all different directions as breathless pleas and sobs echo back and forth around you. The other boys were already inside the hotel lobby, behind the glass doors and away from the quiet roar of the crowd. They had opted to make Harry and you sit in the very back seats that the car offered, something about not wanting to lose lunch being their reason. Harry’s still stringing you along, mindful that you’re taking it all in but hurrying to get the pair of you inside as one of the bodyguards on his right is talking to him about god knows what.  His head is low as he listens intently to what the man is saying. When Harry’s career had first taken off, he would come home every once in 

awhile and be ecstatic about the fans, telling you stories about how heartfelt they were. It was so endearing to watch him, his green eyes alight as he recalled to you the moments that stood out to him in the sea of press releases and talk shows and signings. As time went on, though, it wasn’t that his stories diminished but rather the light in his eyes did. He still had lots to tell you, but you knew Harry well enough to know something was wrong under the surface. 

“Already tired of the fame, Styles?” You had teased him with a  quirk of your eyebrow. 

His head had snapped up from his phone at that, eyebrows furrowed and forehead creased. “No. Never. Yeh know that, love. S’just…” He mumbled, trailing off as he closed his eyes and ran a hand down his face. 

You had frowned at that, leaning across the booth and grabbing his wrist in your fingers. 

“Harry, what is it?” You ask, dragging his hand away from his face. He sighs, opening the tired eyes you had been avoiding to acknowledge since he came back. 

“They’re lovely, the fans. I would never question that, yeh know? We wouldn’t be anything without em. I- we, owe them so much.” He rambles, eyes narrowed as he tries to find the right words. 

“Harry.” You whisper softly, releasing his wrist to intertwine your fingers with his. “Look at me.” You demand after a quick beat. 

He does, blinking at you. 

You shake your head at him gently, “You don’t have to convince me love, I know exactly who you are. S’me you’re talking too, remember?”

His shoulders had sag a bit at that and after a little more coaxing he had admitted to you that it was exhausting at times, but there isn’t a thing he would change.

“Harry, you’re entitled to be tired. You handle it so well, you know that don’t you? All those interviewers looking to get a rise out of you.. You’re wonderful, Harry, and I’m glad I’m not the only who knows that.” You had responded with a squeeze of his hand.

He had flashed you a grateful smile in response.

“Although, I can say it was easier when thousands of girls weren’t pining for you, love.” You tease with a smirk, earning a loud chortle of laughter from him and a shake of his head, brown curls flopping around.

“S’only one girl I fancy, really.” He responds, lifting his hand to his mouth.

And you’re just about to enter the hotel, a mere few steps from the stairs when you spot the neon sign. It’s hard not to see it, really, but the words scrawled onto it is what causes you to come to a  stumbling stop. Harry comes to a stop too when he has to tug on your hand, your grip loosening from his. He’s instantly alert, ignoring the babbling man next to him as he lifts his head and turns over his shoulder to look at you. You’re turned away from him, staring somewhere off into the crowd and he wants to grab your attention, lean forward and grab your hand once again but he knows you’d only stop if it was important.

You don’t wait to offer him even a look of explanation as your step away from him, backtracking a few feet. The bodyguards and security members they have stationed behind you two and babbling away into their walkie talkies, spreading the news of the sudden stop. You’re stepping dangerously closer to the poll, the fans all screaming at you but you seem unphased. “Harry, she can’t just-” One of the bodyguards begins to lecture, and Harry knows he should say something. He takes a step forward to call after you, the guards around him mimicking his moves and keeping a tight box around him. But that’s when he notices the sign the girl you’re headed for is holding. He feels his heart pang a bit, every time he reads one of those signs he feels so.. Powerless. Him, big star Harry Styles who feels as if he’s the most menial man in the world were confronted with those ferocious words. Through twitter dm’s and instagram comments, to the posters he’d seen and the things he’d heard about fans, young girls thinking such disheartening things. He felt most frustrated with this, out of everything that came along with his career. 

You’re stepping closer to the fan whose eyes are wide as she lowers the sign and her mouth takes a widening ‘o’ shape. The guard closest to you grabs your elbow a bit possessively, causing Harry to frown. You turn, looking down at your elbow and up at the guard and although he can only see the side of your face Harry knows you’re giving the burlish man the sweetest of smiles. He’s talking to you in an urgent voice but you shake your head at him, extending the arm he isn’t holding onto to pat his forearm gently. Harry smiles a bit, the tension between his eyebrows unfolding. He recognizes the action all too well, it’s the one you give him when he’s worried or stressed or simply frustrated. A simple pat to the cheek and a kiss to his forehead with a placating, “Relax, love. You’ll be just fine.” The bodyguard, fond of Harry, turns to give him a questioning look and Harry nods at him. He releases your elbow, and you unaware of the exchange step closer to the fan.

You smile at her, black letters painted across her flushed cheeks, 1D taut against her freckled skin. You lean forward and offer your hand, and she carelessly drops the sign to the floor to hold on it. 

“Hi, love. What’s your name?” You ask over the roaring girls around you, everyone spreading the word that Harry Styles’ girlfriend is speaking to fans. 

“C-caroline.” She stutters, eyes wide and voice trembling not nearly as much as her hand is in yours. 

“That’s a lovely name, I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.” You respond with a smile. 

“I know who you are! I mean- I..” She stutters, ashamed of her sudden outburst. 

You smile at, flushing yourself. “I saw your sign, Caroline.”

  Her eyes go wide and her face drops to stare at said sign, laying on the ground with the word side facing up. Harry, you saved my life. 

She glances up at you, eyes swimming a bit. Caroline clears her throat, blinking at you, “Can I tell you?” She gestures to the sign with her foot.

You nod at once, and she begins to spill as much of her story as she can, tripping over the details and gasping with deep breaths to share enough in the short time you two have together. You nod along when you can, encouraging her with your eyes. The girls, around you and maybe a bit farther away too have fallen quiet as well.

When she’s done, you smile at her. “Oh, love. I’m sorry to hear that.” She smiles at you and even without the cameras on you, you would’ve considered your words just as carefully.

You clear your throat a bit and you address not just Caroline but all the girls around you, You shake your head at her, bringing your other hand up to sandwich hers between yours. “Being a teenager is a  proper pain in the arse, isn’t it?” You ask, addressing the girls around you two that leaning on their toes to get a better angle with their smart phones and listen to your words.

They laugh in response to your inquiry, nodding. You grin at them, taking in all of their wide eyed faces and expectant stares.

“I hope-” You stop at that, biting your lower lip and shaking your head before you start again, “I want you all to know it gets better, yeah? I know it seems like it won’t ever end or get better, but I promise you it does. And you’ve got to keep your pretty heads up. Focusing on the good things, it’ll help loves. Good people, good books, I mean you’ve already got good music to keep you company.” You add with a smile.

The girls nod all together and you feel your heart swell a bit when Caroline finally flashes her smile at you.

“You’ve got a beautiful smile, Caroline. Should wear it more often.” You offer as a parting sentence, before you pull your hands away from hers and wave at the group before turning back.

“Wait! Could- do you mind signing this?” Caroline cries, sign outstretched towards you. 

Your eyebrows furrow together, “Me?” 

“Yes, you’re awesome!” She screams, causing you to laugh. 

“I haven’t got a pen..” You mutter slightly, glancing over your shoulder at the bodyguard who gives you a pressing look. 

“I’ve got one, pet.” A warm voice says as a hand slips around your lower back. You turn and see Harry beaming at you with a pen in his hand. 

“Thanks, love.” You respond as you sign it for Caroline before she asks for Harry’s, who obliges, and after that the fans pick up the ir screaming again hand outstretched and waiting to grab at your boyfriend. 

“Let’s go yeah, unless yeh want to stop for anymore detours.” He mumbles into your ear before pressing his lips to your temple.

 “No, no, let’s go.” You nod and let him lead you towards the stairs, waving at the girls one last time.

The glass doors shut behind your and the other boys have taken a seat in the waiting area, standing up with a dramatic sigh when you two finally enter. You shoot them a quick look before Harry is towering in front of you with his hands locked tightly around your waist.  

You glance up at him hesitantly, expecting a scoff with a wild “what were yeh thinkin’ love?” but instead a met with a warm smile. Harry’s smile. His dimples are popping and his eyes are shining and you know it’s not from the reflection of the florescent lights in the hotel lobby. 

“What’re you smiling about?” You ask, leaning up to poke his dimple.

 He chuckles, turning his face to press a swift kiss to your finger. “Jus’.. happy, sweetheart.” He mumbles, leaning forward and impatiently kissing your forehead. 

You hum, gripping the fabric of his jacket and pulling yourself closer to him. The cameras outside are probably having a field day with what had just happened and Harry’s sudden burst of affection. “She was lovely, wasn’t she? Caroline.” You clarify, glancing back out the glass doors at the still boisterous fans. 

“She was.” He agrees, one hand reaching up to tilt your chin back in his direction.

You humph at him, “Needy, aren’t you?”

His response is a grunt and pressing his thumb deeper into your chin, before he grabs it and brings you forward in a scorching kiss.

When he finally pulls away, forehead resting against yours and puff puffs of breath warm against your cheek, he speaks, “Thank yeh for that, love. Yeh didn’t have to.. That was sweet of yeh. That girl’s gonna remember that for a long time.” He mutters, kissing your cheek.

It was the exact genuity that had attracted him to you in the first place. How simply it came to you to make someone else’s day better without a second thought. 

You smile at him, eyes narrowed in confusion, “All I did was talk to her, give her a listening ear. Anyhow, she adores you  and I reckon if we could leave her a little piece of you, she’d have something to cheer her up a bit. At least for a while, you know help keep her grounded. ”  

Harry shakes his head at you, ringed fingers brushing across your cheek, “Yeh did so much more than that, angel.  Don’t think those girls are gonna be thinking about me at all. The difference yeh just made…“ He trails off before clearing his throat and restarting, “Love yeh. Yeh know that, right?”He gripes suddenly, forehead bumping against yours to punctuate his words. 

You give him a genuine smile, laughing slightly as you tilt your head up to brush your nose against his lightly, “Love you, Harry.” 

Morning, Darlin’: A Hectic Week Part 2

Summary: Regardless of the events in “Morning, Darlin’”, Steve and Y/N haven’t spoken in ages. Unresolved issues and arguments lie bubbling on the surface, and it’s only a matter of time before the ticking time bomb goes off. The two are unknowingly and unwillingly forced to work together one more time, although the situation is a lot more dire this time around.

“Morning, Darlin’” Part One

Chapter List


Originally posted by yalica

Part Two

Monday, 18:47 PM

A few hours later, your journey took an abrupt pause. The car was silent apart from exhales and inhales, as well as the odd cough or sniff. Suddenly, a horrible clunking noise sounded from somewhere in the car, causing all of you to frown. The clunking didn’t stop, and Bucky decided to pull over before something bad happened.

You exited the car and walked to the front, where the three others were standing, bent over the opened hood. They seemed to be discussing something, but you didn’t feel the need to listen what they were talking about. Smoke poured out of the car, and you moved a few feet to avoid getting it in your face. A few minutes later, with thoughts clouding your mind, you snapped back into reality when their voices started to increase in volume. Sighing, you looked around and found a large rock a few metres to your right, and decided to sit down there and wait.

You looked around at your surroundings, but there wasn’t really much to see. Golden sand covered the sides of the road for miles, with the occasional cactus here and there. You quickly became bored, and decided to watch the guys do whatever they were doing. They were still arguing, and you sighed. Sam quickly raised his hands in surrender and turned around, trying to see where you’d gotten off to. He made his way towards you, shaking his head in annoyance.

“Scoot,” he said, and you moved over to give him room. He let out a large huff and crossed his arms, watching as Bucky and Steve continued to argue.

“What are they arguing over now?” you asked, exasperated.

“Who’s gonna get to be the man and fix the problem,” he replied, and you scoffed. Typical. Steve’s gestures were rigid and stiff, almost robot-like in precision, while Bucky was rubbing his temple in frustration. With one careless wave he seemed to have surrendered as well, and started walking to the boot of the car. Steve seemed happy enough as he leant over the car, inspecting its contents, while Bucky fetched the tool-box from the boot.

You watched as he started tinkering, trying to fix whatever had gone wrong. You quickly became very aware of the fact that every movement he made caused his muscles to become visible beneath his T-shirt, and you swallowed thickly at the sight. The heat and sweat didn’t help much either.

“You’re staring,” Sam remarked quietly, leaning over towards you as if to prevent anyone else from hearing, even though they were far away. You quickly averted your gaze and cleared your throat as discreetly as you could.

Keep reading

Kiss It Better (Lams)

CHAPTER ONE: “Can You Kiss it Better?”

summary: They felt less like two individual people, and rather two hearts that beat in time with each other, bound to the same rhythm. And with such a calm and blissful future ahead of them, why not shake it up? Family isn’t a home, it isn’t making small talk over dinner. It’s love, the genuine kind that could rarely be found, and how lucky this family was to have found it in such an unlikely place.

word count: 3008

“Can you kiss it better?”

John Laurens tore himself away from his computer, eyes meeting the six year old’s helpless gaze. “I’m sorry?”

“Can you kiss it better?” she repeated in a small and shaky voice. Eyes flicking down to the floor, she continued, voice growing stronger as she carried on. “That’s what my daddy does when I get hurt. He kisses it better.”

Her eyes told no tales of sorrow, yet she looked up at him in such a manner that John felt as though his heart was being ripped from his chest. “Martha.” He knelt in front of the first grader and placed his hands on her trembling shoulders. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Martha kept her gaze fixed solely on the ground instead of looking at John. “I fell off the swing.”

“Did Theo push you?” John asked, keeping his voice soft and gentle in hopes that it would make her feel better. “I saw you arguing with him at lunch.”

“I…” Martha trailed off, biting her lip anxiously. She still refused to meet John’s gaze, keeping her eyes on anything but her teacher.

“What were you arguing about?” John waited for a few moments for her to answer, but no response came from the first grader. “Martha, I want to help you, but I can’t if I don’t know what happened.”

Her voice was barely a whisper as she finally spoke. “He doesn’t like me. He… he hates me.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t hate you,” John assured her, unable to fathom how someone could possible hate another person at six years old. “I know you’d probably rather not talk to me, but you’ve got to tell someone what happened. A friend, your mom-”

“I can’t tell anyone.” Martha’s eyes watered but John pretended not to notice. “Everyone will call me a tattletale. And besides, I don’t have a mom. That’s…” She stopped mid sentence, cheeks growing pink. “That’s why they don’t like me,” she finished quietly.

“Because you don’t have a mom?” John couldn’t quite fit the pieces together. “Trust me, Martha, you’re not the only kid at the school who hasn’t got a mom.”

“Yeah.” Martha bit back a sigh as if to directly tug at John’s heart. “But I’m the only one with two dads.”

Keep reading

Miraculous Ladybug: And Then Ladybug Tossed Chat Like A Frisbee-- a collaboration

A beautiful collaboration work between @squirrellygirlart and myself :)

DISCLAIMER: This fic contains high levels of crack. Reading this fic may cause you to spontaneously burst out laughing in front of strangers, friends, or worse, family members who already think you need to be committed (Pun intended). This work also was made with nuts, because the creators are absolutely bound to send you into anaphylactic shock with their incessant punning, flights of fancy, and shameless need to cause absolute mayhem within the fandom. Shipper discretion is advised.

“Please, dear, tell me… what’s on your mind?”

Marinette tried to resist, she did. Yet the voice seemed so understanding, and she felt so horrible, and she needed someone to talk to…


When Vice-Versa had appeared, she had already been having a bad day. First she had snapped at her parents after a late night of trying to study for the physics exam she had this morning, then she had been late to class because she had tripped on the steps and her bag had fallen open, dropping her books and papers everywhere. If that wasn’t enough, when she did make it to class, after being lectured by the teacher in front of everyone, she forgot everything she had studied for last night, and just stared at the test in a blind panic.

By the time the test was over, she had barely managed to fill in even half of sheet, and was feeling more incompetent than usual. Needing to cheer herself up, she had been using their short break between classes to work a bit more on the Chat Noir and Ladybug themed outfits she was designing when Adrien had walked in, having missed the the first half of the morning due to a modeling job.

He looked as tired as she felt, sipping on a coffee and dragging his feet until he noticed Marinette’s designs. Coming to hover over her, trying to get a closer look, he didn’t notice Chloe headed to intercept him. One crash later, and her entire sketchbook was drenched in the hot, dark liquid, the sketch she was working on of a Chat Noir hoodie smearing and stained.

And that’s when her morning got really bad.

Adrien had been trying to apologize, but Marinette, frustrated, tired and feeling completely attacked by life at that point, had merely glared at him, angry tears spilling down her cheeks as she spat at him.

“How could you… it’s ruined!”

Standing, she had run from the room, unable to handle the looks everyone was giving her, not ready to deal with any of it.

Which is how she had found herself sitting in the courtyard, angry at the world, but mostly at herself, when it had arrived. She’d been so busy crying her heart out, it had taken Tikki pinching her side to alert her to the presence of the Akuma on the school grounds. Tall and thin, it was dressed in what appeared to be an oversized, unfastened straight jacket, the sleeves trailing on the ground beside her, white dress pants and a rather practical pair of flats. A severe bun, fancy monocle and accompanying clipboard and pen told Marinette this akuma was probably a therapist or psychologist of some kind.

Before Marinette even had a chance to appreciate the sweet irony of Hawkmoth choosing this victim to play mind games with, it had begun walking towards her, eerily calm and non-threatening for an Akuma.

“You’ve been crying,” it cooed sweetly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Marinette had begun backing away, ready to make a break for the bathroom so she could transform, but the soft voice was oddly hypnotic, rooting her in place. Still the akuma paced forward, looking sympathetic and welcoming.

“Being a teenager is hard, so many conflicting feelings,” it continued patiently. “No one understands you, no one listens… but Vice-Versa will.”

The voice drew her forward towards the Akuma’s inviting arms. Mind clouded, heart aching, her hand stretched out, reaching for the help being so freely offered.


The young girl had hesitated, blinking in confusion at the muffled sound of her name being shouted. It had sounded desperate and familiar, dragging some of the fog away from her mind. But who–

“Please, dear, tell me… what’s on your mind?”

Keep reading

Blade’s Edge

Sooo, I wrote some original fiction stuff. It’s an idea that’s been bouncing around in my mind for a while: a Norse Mythology / Fantasy Rivalmance, type deal. The characters aren’t human, but I have’t precisely settled on what they are yet. This is the first draft of the first chapter (maybe?) so it’s pretty rough, but I’d appreciate feedback. 


The sounds of battle had long ago died on the wind, yet the morning sky was drenched with the blood. The great chamber of the palace, which once was a warm, bustling place, seemed empty now. Only a few servants remained—the old, the sick, the women. Most of the men had marched with what was left of the army.

Though the braziers were lit, Astrid, Lady of the Golden Hall, was freezing. The chill in her bones was not due to the heavy fog that hung around the palace, but the defeat carried on the air.

She could hear the drums of the Gotalanders as they marched on the palace. It would only be a matter of moments before they burst through the silver gate of the city and made their way to the Palace of the Kings. Astrid shifted in her seat, and looked down at the boy in her lap. Erik, her baby brother and recently crowned king of Trondhiem, fidgeted and glanced up at her.

“Asta, I’m tired.” His small voice saw swallowed up in the silence of the chamber. 

She gave him a small smile, and resisted the urge to brush a lock of unruly hair back from his forehead. He was king now, even if not for much longer. “I know, your majesty. But do you remember what I told you about being like Papa?”

When the little boy nodded, she continued. “Well, sometimes—”

Before she could finish, the great doors the hall groaned and swung open to the sound of marching boots and the clank of armor. Astrid straightened in her seat, her arms wrapping protectively around Erik. Row after row of soldiers in gleaming ring-mail marched into the hall in perfect sync. They lined the ebony inlaid walkway to the dais, the tips of their swords thumping against the wood in one, deep reverberating noise. A man appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the bright light of the antechamber beyond. Astrid could only make out his form as he stalked towards them, a victor confident in his might.

He was tall, like all the men of his cursed kingdom. His broad shoulders were accentuated by the leather armor he wore over his ring-mail. Around his narrow waist hung his sword belt, on which rested a wicked looking blade with a hilt curve to look like a thorn.

Astrid felt the hairs at the back of her neck prickle. Though she could not yet see his face in the gloomy hall, she knew exactly who this man was: Einar Silver-Tongue, second son to King Ulf of Gotaland, the Terror of the Jutes.


Astrid paced the length of the king’s receiving chamber, her eyes unfocused as she tread back and for across the finely woven rug. She had just put her brother to bed with a promise that everything would be alright.

A lie.


She didn’t know. All she knew was that he would be coming soon. Einar Silver-fucking-Tongue. After marching his armies across her brother’s kingdom and into the Golden Hall, Astrid was sure he would strike her head from her neck and dash her brother against the unyielding walls. But instead, he’d let them live. Once the palace was secured, he’d disappeared back to the front lines of his army with nothing but a promise of return.

Asta shook her head. She hated feeling toyed with, hated this cat and mouse game Einar was playing with them. Rather swing the ax than have it hanging over her.

She turned towards the fireplace, holding out her hands for warmth that wouldn’t reach her bones. Behind her, the heavy oaken doors swung open. Her spine stiffened, though she refused to turn to him—refused to let him think she feared to have him at her back. She could hear Einar moving about, removing cloak and gloves perhaps, before the creak of leather encased adamantine signaled he’d taken a seat. Still she refused to face him.

“Come now, Princess. This is no time to act a girl. We have things of import to discuss.” His cool, silken voice sounded just behind her, the level tone belied by an undercurrent of steel.

After a moment, Astrid turned, finally meeting his gaze. He sat, indolent and at easy, legs spread wide and arms resting along the back of a plush backed-bench. His dark hair brushed his shoulders, framing his angular face in shadows. Startling amber eyes watched her from beneath heavy brows. Watched, and…appreciated? It was difficult to tell, but something masculine and possessive lurked in his glittering gaze. 

She felt her mouth pucker in distaste. He was handsome, and she hated him for it. A monster should show himself to be one, not masquerade as a god.

A flick of the wrist: a command to sit. She frowned but found herself gingerly sitting at the edge of the bench, as far from him as possible—though not far enough that she wasn’t within his reach. A shock of heat travelled down her arm where his fingertips brushed her shoulder.

“You have something to discuss with me?” She asked, lifting her chin.

A corner of his mouth quirked up at her imperious tone. “As a courtesy, I wish to inform you I will be assuming the regency of King Erik. He will be sent away to the north in order to safeguard his person during this unstable time. You will remain here.”

The causality with which he dictated her life was insufferable. Gnashing her teeth, Astrid shot up, hot fury roaring up her spine. “You will do no such thing! Erik stays with me.”

One moment he was seated, relaxed, the next, he stood before her, inches away, his big body towering over her to intimidate. “My armies occupy your kingdom;your father is dead and your king a mere child,” he hissed, amber eyes flashing green. “My boot is at your throat, princess—you have no right to issue orders to me,” 

She bared her teeth at him, fists balled at her side to stop herself from scratching his eyes out.

“I will not allow you to take him from me,” she seethed. “Secreted away until he conveniently dies of cold and neglect, or your assassin’s blade.”

Einar sneered at her accusation. “If I was going to kill him, I would have done it already.”

She glared up at him, hating him all the more for reminding her of her weakness, that she and Erik were in his clutches. “Yes, you should have. Because I vow to the Norns that I won’t stop until your throat is under my boot, Prince Einar.”

His hand shot out, tangling in her thick tresses and yanking her head back. The motion brought them closer, each of her hard, heavy breaths pressing her against the solid wall of muscle that was his chest. She gripped his shoulders, trying, but unable to push him away.

“Do not think to threaten me, Astrid.” He stared down his aquiline nose at her upturned face. “I hold your life in my hands.”

“Freeze in Hel,” she spat, squirming against his grip.

Einar banded his free arm around her, pinning her arms between them and hauling her against him. “Cease this petulant mewling, and make me an offer worthy of consideration.”

“Let go of me! You have no right!”

“It’s trite but true, Princess, might makes right.” He snapped, squeezing her closer.

They stared at each other a long moment eyes blazing. She was painfully aware of the closeness of their bodies, and the fact that no man had ever dared touch her like this before. 

Suddenly he released her. Only a quick step back stopped her from falling to the floor at the loss of the stabilizing strength of his arms. Stabbing fingers through his dark hair, Einar stalked to the other side of the room before pouring himself a drink.

Astrid sent him a baleful look. “You may be regent, oh conqueror, but I am Erik’s guardian. And he will stay with me.”

He watched her over the rim of his—her brother’s—goblet, amber eyes apprising. She shivered.

“It is my pleasure that you will stay here.” He took a deep draught, before slamming the metal cup on the table. “Very well. King Erik will stay here, with you as his guardian, while I see to the running of the realm as it is integrated into the Gotaland Empire.”

Again he moved rapidly to stand before her, and much to her chagrin she found herself taking a step back.

“But, I will need something in exchange for this leniency. Something to ensure you don’t turn back and bite me like a rabid dog.”

Astrid didn’t know whether the trembling she felt was fear at the sudden silken, dangerous tone of his voice or anger at being likened to a rabid bitch. Regardless, she raised her chin in defiance, her words mocking. 

“My kingdom is at your disposal, my prince, what on Midgard could I possible give you more?”

Astrid was dismayed to see that instead of snapping back at her a wicked grin slowly spread across his lips as his eyes flashed green. Her stomach dropped; she had played right into his hands. 

“You, my sweet, I will take to wife.”

Before she could object, before even, his words had truly registered. Einar’s mouth crashed against hers as he hauled her bodily against him. Astrid made a noise of protest, her fingers curled into claws against his shoulders. His lips were demanding, dominating, sending scorching heat down her throat and racing throughout her body which each pass of lip against lip. He pressed his thumb to the corner of her mouth, forcing it open to him, forcing her to submit to his tongue. Astrid gasped at his forwardness, her eyes fluttering closed.

She felt too hot, to confined in her own skin. She wiggled against him, maddened with the feeling of–of something. He groaned in response, deepening their already impossible deep embrace. 

“Asta?” Erik’s small voice behind her was a shock of cold water. “I heard shouting.”

 She wretched herself away from Einar and slapped him across the face so hard his head snapped to the side. Instead of looking cross at her assault, he gave her an indulgent, smug smile, before turning to Erik and giving a courtly bow.

“ King Eirk, good evening.” He turned to Astrid, eyeing her with a masculine satisfaction that made her want to slap him again. “I’ll leave you, my dear, to inform his majesty of our arrangement.”

Steal My Heart Chapter Nine

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+

Updates: Sunday

Thanks so much to @botanistlester for betaing this giant monster, as she’s been super helpful and encouraging with her little comments and endless excitement. We couldn’t have done it without you <3

Disclaimer: In no way do I claim that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil

For reference, @snowbunnylester is Phil, @ineverhadmyinternetphase is Dan

Someone actually drew us art for Steal My Heart recently!! We meant to link it last week, but it completely slipped our mind, whoops! But yes, I’m so excited and happy, our dear friend @cosmicphandom2k16 drew the kissing scene from chapter seven for us, and you can find that post here! Hope you guys enjoy todays chapter! <3

(Masterlist) (AO3)

Chapter Nine

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

omg PLEASE post another story

all right.

so y’all dealt with Ms. Mormino, but as far as I’m concerned, the tale of the substitute from the black lagoon part II doesn’t have anything on the story of the Nerf Brain.

What is the Nerf Brain?

Let’s go back in time a bit. Appropriately enough, this tale begins in a history classroom. Back when my current European History teacher, Mr. M, taught Global History class, it was a transitory period in America—dating back to those so-close-and-yet-so-far-away days of the early 2000′s.  In an era no longer AOL but not-quite-yet MySpace, administration noticed our students, particularly in our social studies department, were struggling with grades. After what I’m sure was an all-too-unpleasant quandary full of endless staff meetings, Mr. M finally had a breakthrough.  There had recently been some talk drifting through the conference halls that kids tended to learn better when actively involved, so Mr. M decided to conduct an experiment in kinesthetics. He brought a football to school with him and organized question-and-answer sessions that required students to pass the ball around. Excited and engaged, kids payed more attention, and grades went up.

Unfortunately, the football posed some other problems when the linebackers of the class took to “passing” the ball to the frailer, gawky kids—by “passing” of course, I mean “shouting something about the Battle of Stalingrad before sending a spiral right into Seymour’s head.” (A couple of kids sustained some nastily broken glasses.)

Mr M needed a solution—and that came in the form of one opportunely audacious sophomore named Randy.  Randy was a redhead with a penchant for trouble. In addition, he was an aspiring rap star with a habit of interrupting lectures to drop his own (usually pathetic) verses in class. (I wonder how that worked out for him) One morning, one of Randy’s verses concluded in a rather unsavory comment about the supposed sexual escapades about a classmate’s mother, which landed him in a ninety-minute detention after school with Mr. M.   Something important to know about my school’s layout is that the downstairs is much larger than the upstairs, so most upstairs classrooms are next to a large stretch of roof—if you climbed out of an upstairs window, you’ll be standing on an expanse of concrete several across. This setup was infamously taken advantage of by an enthusiastic humanities teacher named J-Stew. That’s not related, though. The important thing is that it was this concrete space that Randy was staring at during detention. Mr. M asked him what he was looking at, and Randy explained that, sitting just a few feet outside the window, was the Nerf Brain. 

What was the Nerf Brain, you ask?

commercially known as the Brain Ball™  by Nick & Nerf, it wasn’t certain how long it had been there, only that it was rather faded and pretty poor shape overall from all the time it had spent out there baking in the Florida sun.
 In order to get Randy to stop staring, Mr. M allowed Randy to retrieve the Brain and return it to him.

 That night, Mr. M got an idea. He merely replaced the football with the soft foam brain, and the number of assaults to the nerdy kids’ craniums dropped dramatically.

Everything seemed to be working until, thanks to the constant use and abuse, this brain was worn down into a state worse than mine after finals.
So, Mr. M sought out to find a replacement.

Just one problem.

 The Nick & Nerf Brain Ball™ was manufactured in one year and one year only: 1995. After that, it was never again made. Still, nearly a decade after it’s discontinuing, Mr. M was determined to find a new one—thus began the holy grail-esque search for the Brain Ball™.

 Despite countless searches in the then-Brave New World of online shopping, dozens of scouring ventures in the backs of chain retailers, innumerable searches through thrift stores, and one tearful call to a Nerf bigwig (Mr. M confesses he’s not proud of that moment) All of Mr. M’s attempts at locating it proved fruitless. When a student heckled the futility of his searchings, he gave the class an offer; if anyone could track down the sacred cerebrum, he’d give them an A in the class, no questions asked. 

 Weeks passed, and no brain was brought, no A’s were given, and Mr. M’s encephalon obsession grew pathological. It became the subject of staffroom small talk—the football coach even reported he’d seen Mr. M bleary-eyed and staggering through the hallways, wringing his hands and muttering “Brainball. Brainball. Brainball.” Coach Packette did always have a tendency to exaggerate, though. 

 The class continued utilizing the busted brain until the end of the year. The students had given up long ago. Mr. M’s resolve only strengthened, though it became apparent to everyone but him that the search was getting more and more hopeless.

 At the end of exams, the results proved that the brain, no matter how distressed, had proved its effectiveness, for all but one student passed the class. That student, however, was a quiet, high-strung girl by the name of Kenzie. Having always liked Kenzie, and noticing she seemed to do well in her other classes, Mr. M felt bad about having to fail her—but a grade was a grade, and by the last day of school, Mr. M didn’t give it too much thought.

 It wasn’t until a few days into summer, that Kenzie re-entered Mr. M’s consciousness.

At that time, there was a gap period of several weeks between the end of school and the deadline for grades. Mr. M, still preoccupied with his search for the BrainBall, had put grade entry on the backburner. Several days after the end of the school year, Mr. M finally decided to return to his classroom to enter grades in addition to cleaning up his room before the summer. Plenty of teachers do this, although much of the lighting is shut off after the final day at my school, which can lend a sort of eerieness to the halls. Mr. M paid it no mind, and was in the midst of making his way to his classroom when it took a turn for the terrifying.

 In a scene which I can only imagine had a haunting parallel with the infamous spectacle at the end of the hallway in The Shining, Kenzie stood before his door, creepily still, creepily grim.

 “Uh, hi there, Kenzie,” Mr. M said. “What are you doing here?”

 Kenzie clutched a tote bag in front of her, saying nothing.

 “Kenzie?” Mr. M repeated, briefly conjuring up an image in his mind of one Brenda Spencer.

Slowly backing away, though trying to appear unbothered, Mr. M spoke one more time. “Kenzie? What’s up?”

 “I’ve got something for you,” she grunted, reaching into her bag.

What she pulled out of her bag nearly froze Mr. M’s heart in his chest, but not from fear.

 Kenzie placed in Mr. M’s hand a fully wrapped, untouched, mint-condition Nick & Nerf Brain Ball™.

According to Mr. M, the revealing of the brain was accompanied by a legion of seraphim and a hallelujah chorus filled the air. But it’s hard to verify that.

And that’s the story of how Kenzie got an A by satisfying my teacher’s year-long quixotic quest for a discontinued foam brain from 1995.

Music to write Torn by

Just after I’d delivered the second draft of Torn - in the end there were three drafts plus two short “production drafts”, where only tiny changes in dialogue were asked for right before they locked it as a shooting script - I found myself emailing with our brilliant exec producer Juliet about the various processes writers have to get a draft done.

I told her that for me, it was imagining how the actors would look and sound doing and saying certain things, and music. Always music. I know some writers who prefer silence and they BAFFLE AND CONFUSE me. I can’t do it. To me, silence is just a huge void of “Why can’t you type anything? / Why have you just typed that load of shit?” That still happens regardless, but with my headphones blasting something, it’s not as crushing. I told Juliet that I had a long playlist to write to, and certain songs for specific characters and moments, including the one I listened to over and over and over again whilst crying at 2am trying to write one scene. (No, you don’t get a prize for guessing which scene yes obviously it was that one.) I’d like to share that playlist with you now, and talk a little about how it connected the characters for me along the way.

(Skip down to the first video below & play - it really kicks in after about 2 mins)

When I got the WB job, I started on a playlist almost straight away - if I recall, the night that Ep 1 of S4 had gone out. Now I’d met the new characters, and seen the new style of shooting, I went to my iTunes (30,000+ tracks all stored on an offline PC running on XP and iTunes 9 - FUK U APPLE MUSIC YOU ARE NEVER REPLACING MY RARE TRACKS) and started throwing in music that said this one thing to me -

- running through the city at night, surrouded by lights.

Didn’t have to be running as a wolf, just needed that rush, that feeling. This netted me 5 or 6 tracks. I tried to stick to recent-ish things (circa April 2016), and mainly British artists. Anything with energy, screaming “city!”. Then I got corny and searched every Wolfblood related word I could think of - moon, howl, wolf, run, teeth, etc - to see if that threw up anything good. (More on that below.) This was a start, and was what I took up to the writers room in Salford. (On that journey, I also played the hell out of Try Everything from Zootropolis, which I had seen the Friday before. I especially played it on the tram out to MediaCity basically so I could arrive there for the first time like Judy Hopps.)

When I got back from the room, I worked on the playlist, adding a few more tracks (the full Aurora album was out by now as well and was the kind of thing I buy & love anyway) over the next couple of months while I was waiting for the real work to start. So, by the time August rolled around, and my story outline was locked… I. WAS. READY.

I try to avoid too much existing film music on a playlist because generally it’s already got a strong connection to something visual, but an exception was the opening track on my list, from the 1979 movie The Warriors. I know a lot of people who grew up with this film, but I only saw in a couple of years ago, when the full score was released on limited CD, and that’s where this track is from.

When I made this my opening track, it was merely to set mood. Creepy city night moving into propulsive action. But when my story changed in July and my opening became the scenes of Emilia, Madoc and Hafren stalking the city… OHMYGOD can you imagine more perfect music to write that too? And when they filmed those scenes I was there and could hear this music in my mind as I watched them walk. Magic.

(There actually seems to be another nod to The Warriors in Ep 5, when Birdie taunts “Wolfbloods, come out to play…” I must ask Ed if it’s intentional.)

Then I had the 30 second title version of Running With The Wolves on my iPod, so it was essentially like listening to my episode start after the teaser (”They think so.”) and then away we go. And yes, my nerdery knows no bounds.

I may skip around the actual order of the playlist now to talk about it, but the playlist linked at the bottom of the post is the order of the tracks on my iPod, so go hit that and enjoy.

First up after the titles, TURN THE MUSIC LOUDER (RUMBLE). This is everything I said above. This is running through a loud, lit city at night. This track gets me so fired up, and though I love love love Katy B & Tinie Tempah’s voices, the extended instrumental was the best one to get my blood going - especially when it was 1am and I’d just cued the playlist for the fourth time that night. When that beat kicks in at 46 seconds <3

Chaleur Humaine was such an important album to me last year. It was an album I got a few weeks before getting the job, which was also the week my grandma had a fall and went to hospital and… all that’s on my instagram, go look. Point being, I *needed* this album last year. So it was obvious some songs would make their way onto the list, and TILTED is just… It’s audio heaven to me. And while I was still finishing Torn, they’d started shooting Block 1, and a video went up of Jack dancing to this in the green room. So when you’re listening to the same thing the cast is, you kind of know you’ve chosen well. “But I’m actually good / Can’t help it if we’re tilted” could almost be a WB motto. We’re not human, but that doesn’t make us bad - just tilted. Later, iT was a song for Jana, “I’m a man now” becoming a stand-in for “I’m an Alpha now”.

Raleigh Ritchie, aka Jacob Anderson, aka Grey Worm on GoT. How talented can one guy be? (Plus he used to follow me on Twitter when he had a seperate Jacob account and we’d talk movies and trade puns a bit.) If you haven’t heard You’re A Man Now, Boy, do it right now (or when you’ve finished reading this). Anyway, these songs keyed me *straight* into TJ. “This is a blue town / And I feel a Gene Kelly moment comin’ on” is sooooooooo TJ. That boundless optimism, even when the world is falling down, that sense of play and fun and joy about being a Wolfblood - more than that, being Terence Cipriani, the one and only. But he still can’t *quite* get it together with Selina, even though he *totally* should, so BLOODSPORT ‘15 got me into their scenes** together, and then when Raleigh is joined on THE CHASED by his real life partner, the amazing Aisling Loftus, that basically became TJ and Selina singing together.

**There’s not a lot of TJ and Selina in Torn, which is a regret, because I love them so much. I did write them some other scenes (while they’re waiting for Hartington, and in the Den at the end) but they were cut for time before shooting. They were nice in isolation, with Selina supporting TJ (he’s still worried about the chip having been in him), then him supporting her after her parents are taken, but they didn’t really contribute to the story, and as you saw, we had quite a few events to blast through in 27 minutes as it was.

ROMAN HOLIDAY by Halsey is almost an odd one out - one of only 2 American tracks on the list, but something about it struck me as right for Torn. “We’ll be looking for sunrise”, and “for now let’s get away” maybe? But it always felt like it belonged there.

The Wolf Alice tracks were the one of two results from my Wolfblood-related word search. Full disclosure - I had the Wolf Alice album and EP but they hadn’t grown on me yet when I put these on the list. That all changed as these songs became essential to the writing. STORMS seemed to fit for both Jana and Matei, as both are being told things by people and wonder the refrain over and over again “Who are your friends, your friends, your friends…”. By the third draft this always put me in Matei’s head. FREAZY became a big Jana song, as she tries to navigate ties and deals throughout the show, but always open to hope “You can join us if you think you’re wild / You can join us if you’re a feral child / Our love is cool”. “You can hate us all you want but it don’t mean nothing at all”, Jana just keeps Jana’ing, like a fucking boss. YOUR LOVES WHORE was kind of an all purpose track to again serve that big city tone, but the more I listened to it, the more the insistent beat and heavy guitars felt like Selina. She could be talking to TJ (”I could be your perfect girl”?) or she could be taking on the world, because she is Selina Khan and she will kick you in the face whilst delivering a cutting comment, then one minute later come out with the sweetest gesture you’ve ever seen.

I used the other Aurora songs to mainly access Emilia and Hafren. CONQUEROR is basically Hafren’s entire mission statement. Despite being swayed in method by Madoc, Hafren is a pure WB, just like Emilia tells her. That was a really important scene to me - one that never changed from the first draft. I wanted to have a scene that showed just what a good Alpha Emilia has been when she’s not trying to start a fight. Hafren may deploy her aggression very easily, but she’s doing it for very clear - almost innocent, really - reasons. She really believes, and when she howls and raises her fist on the castle, it should be that pure moment of triumph (along with an “oooooohhhh shit” moment equivilant to shutting down the grid in Ghostbusters in terms of WB/human relations). Laura G was amazing, coming to those short scenes with brilliant notes on what they meant to Hafren that completely chimed with my thinking, and I really can’t explain to you just how amazing it was to be up there and see and hear her howl like that.

TILL THE END by Lucy Rose was almost a chillout section in the middle of writing for me. It feels very fresh and optimistic, and can work for any number of characters, including Katrina. And if you want to take the lyrics “‘Cause I want to believe / That I will keep fighting 'till the end / And I should have believed / That you were much more than just a friend” and apply it to what Katrina is feeling after she hears what she does in this episode, I’m not going to stop you…

Katrina is a segue into what I always thought of as the Kafe section of songs, from Florrie through Karen Harding & Little Mix to Hailee Steinfeld. All great modern pop songs that I love and could imagine playing on the radio in the Kafe, backgrounding the long talk the pack have at the beginning. If there’s going to be a day when BLACK MAGIC doesn’t get me feeling upbeat and happy, I don’t want to know about it. Hailee Steinfeld is also the only other invading American song on the list, but the Kafe is a place where that doesn’t feel strange.

After the Kafe section and before Bloodsport ;15, I had another song I can’t add on Spotify -

I have the proper studio version of this, on a sampler for Chlöe Howl’s album that never came out, which is a fucking tragedy because wow. I love her, I loved every song she put out, and this song was sooooo important to the script. It works for Jana and Emilia and Matei… it takes them a long time to trust someone. And now some of those trusts are breaking down, and some are building again. (Howl was the other result from my wolf word searching, but I can’t imagine I’d have gone into battle without at least one Chlöe song regardless.)

The only other song on the playlist I can’t include here is SLOWDIVE by Gemma Hayes, which is an exclusive song I got for putting in an amount of £ to back the album that became Bones + Longing. It’s a really beautiful song - it sounds like audio sunlight and green fields, and I used it mainly to write Emilia teaching Matei Eolas. Nothing on the album sounds exactly like it, but check out Bones + Longing and Gemma’s previous album Let It Break for a taste, and because they’re amazing.

For the longest time - before the July story change that landed the Kafe Escape scene into Torn, HEY NOW (BONOBO REMIX) was the only song on the list that represented Robyn. It’s *very* city at night music, and I kind of imagined it being something she’d listen to on headphones in her room, laying awake and thinking of a person sleeping not very far away, and what she was starting to mean to her. It’s one for looking at the rain streaming down your window and hugging your covers tighter.

Another song like that is HEARTLESS. Oh my musical god. Really. This is one of the songs that went on the list that first night. I can listen to it endlessly. It represents everyone, in every space we go to. Kafe, Den, streets, wild. I can even access *Madoc* with this song (And it was important to understand Madoc and his reasons, but I can’t go into that now for spoilers. But I get why he’s doing what he does.) This is simply a key song in the creation of Torn.

Believe it or not, in my first draft, we had a car chase! I know!! Basically Hartington was somewhere else than the gym, and they all piled into Jones’s vehicle to track him on the roads before cornering him. Then everything went down the way it does in the ep now, but still, car chase! Then of course production said we could spend the enormous amount of money the chase would cost on better things, so can they just ambush him as he leaves the gym? But for the time the chase existed, the theme from The Warriors returned in BASEBALL FURIES CHASE to go with it.

The third Aurora song, I WENT TOO FAR was always Emilia to me. Perhaps not in lyrics, but in voice and feel. Has she gone too far? Maybe in some part of her mind. But she can relate to the “Crying 'give me some love, give me some love and hold me” part. For all the strength she takes in her pack, she’s so happy to get Matei back. It was a joy to write those scenes reuniting the siblings, and I am so so so happy with the Eolas scene. That’s been the same - bar literally changing one single word - since my first draft, and Sydney blew me away with how beautifully she delivered it. I hadn’t seen anything of that scene until Monday, and … yeah, it’s so so beautiful. Sydney, Jack, the look, the music. <3

The last Christine and the Queens song, NIGHT 52, I used to track the deleted Den scene, which came inbetween Madoc slipping away from the party and his call. Not much happened - it was really Jana, Imara, TJ & Selina trying to figure out a way to do… anything… to help the situation they’re in now. So it was sombre and quiet and though I’m now glad it’s gone (aside from missing the TJ & Selina beat mentioned above), this beautiful track gave it life.

So, it’s late July, and my story now includes a certain scene, and yeeaaahhhhh, gonna need some specific music for this one. Thankfully a couple more albums had come out recently. First, Nothing’s Real, by Shura. How good? Is it even measurable how good it is? And it gave me two songs in particular that seemed really Robyn, who was now so much more important to the episode. MAKE IT UP, with all the talk of waking up in the night, was like a companion to the London Grammar song, but 2SHY? That might as well be the narrative in Robyn’s head in the days leading up to Torn. “It’s taken me so long / Maybe I’m just too shy to say it / We could be more than friends / Maybe I’m just too shy / Too shy.” Wanting desperately to say something but too professional and maybe even hesitant to say it, until one awful event leads them to a very specific set of circumstances. They weren’t outside at the time. They weren’t downstairs, where Robyn could have quickly bolted out of the back door. No. They were up in the flat. One terrible moment, as brutish men crash into their lives, leads them to the only exit - to that window - and that moment, that perhaps could not have happened at any other time. And suddenly something terrible becomes something beautiful…

And that’s where HEAR YOU CALLING by Birdy comes in. It just hit me in the heart. In the music, in the lyrics (“I could take my make-up and put a brave face on” could be a mantra for Katrina during recent events), in Birdy’s beautiful voice. *This* was the song for that moment, and I played it and played it and played it. I left this scene to almost the last in my first draft, as I basically knew what I wanted to do with it, it just needed to be done right. So it was about 2am on the second night of writing when I cued the track for the first time. (I wrote the first draft over two nights in a 24 hour cafe, which is a useful thing Plymouth has for writers. And hey, a few months later I was reading Lucy Sutcliffe’s amazing Girl <3 Girl AND GUESS WHICH CAFE SHE MENTIONS HANGING OUT IN!!111!!)

And then I wrote the scene, over and over. Every line of description, every line of dialogue read and re-read and changed until it flowed with the music, and we reach that moment where Robyn stops herself from leaving, and the chorus kicks in on her declaration to Katrina…

And because Katrina is just a glorious wonderful beating heart of a human being she responds to Robyn with love and *that* **Alpha** ***headtouch*** and that human red red kiss that says come back to me and then Robyn’s gone until they meet again…

Every night when the sun goes down
And I’m left in this lonely town
I hear you calling me, hear you calling me, yeah
Every time that I say goodbye
Every night when I close my eyes
I hear you calling me, hear you calling me

Take me home, take me home, don’t know this place
Are you there wondering if I’m lying awake
Thinking of you?
Take me home, take me home, don’t know this place
Are you there wondering if I’m lying awake
Thinking of you?
Oh, my beautiful summer
How the winter makes me wonder
Where you’ve gone

And then a few weeks later they started using Hear You Calling for the opening titles of Our Girl, but they cut if off before the best bit anyway, so I’m planting the flag in it for us.

And finally, we’re back to the city, literally, with IN THE CITY, the end credits song from The Warriors, that just feels like the end of a very long day - but one where you have hope for the future, which is exactly what our pack need at the end of Torn, and what I needed because hearing this song meant I’d been writing for a couple of hours, and probably had loads left to do, and was about to start the music all over again…

Anyway, here’s the music that helped me with Torn - I hope you enjoy at least some of it!


Why I feel that YoI betrayed its own narrative - part 3

DISCLAIMER: I love Yuri on Ice. No, listen, you don’t understand, I! LOVE! YURI! ON! ICE! Deeply! It’s very special, extremely important to me. It has touched my heart in ways that few stories have, it’s one of my favourite things across any media. I’ve recommended it to everyone I know. There’s not a single character I dislike. I have cosplay plans. My phone’s ringtone is History Maker. Every night before bed I read fanfiction. I ordered the official soundtrack. Currently on my desk sits my mini christmas tree sporting an acrylic charm of the main trio and Makkachin. I’m wearing Yuuri on my shirt as I write this. Ok? We’ve established this. I love, adore Yuri on Ice, and I wish I could be feeling for the finale the same levels of pure joy the episodes have been giving me every week since it aired. But I’m not.

  1. Yuuri Katsuki’s character arc
  2. Yuri Plisetsky’s character arc
  3. Victor Nikiforov’s character arc
  4. The resolution of Victuuri
  5. Missing pieces and inconsistencies

HUGE THANKS to @soobaki for doing the beta on this monster and for the constant emotional support as I wrote it!

Warning: this is a long post.

Victor Nikiforov - on learning to let go and finding happiness

Victor is the first character of our three main leads that the audience is introduced to. If Yuuri starts the story at the bottom and Yurio starts getting ready to take his place at the top, Victor is the one standing at that very top, the highest you can possibly go. He has just won his fifth consecutive Grand Prix Final gold medal and there he stands, with one the fakest, most empty smiles we ever see out of Victor. Which is saying a lot, he is the king of fake smiles.

I need to start by saying that we’re going to go through Victor’s arc the way the narrative presented it to us. As in, the episode 10 plot twist will only be fully acknowledged once we reach episode 10.

There’s not a lot of Victor in episode 1 though. We are strictly following Yuuri’s perspective and for now these two are worlds apart. Really, we don’t get much insight on Victor until episode 10, which is why we have to take special attention to the glimpses we get of what’s going on underneath with him. Victor the skating legend, Victor the coveted bachelor and Victor the idol and inspiration of Yuuri is quickly established to us through the little time we have with him. We see Victor win gold at the Grand Prix and the Worlds, we see Victor acting charming towards his fans (Yuuri included because…way to not pay attention to your competition Victor), but overall he gives off this very cool, collected and untouchable aura.

However, something I’ve always found significant is that the very first time we see Victor out of the ice, out of the celebrity persona, as himself, the one thing he’s doing is offering Yurio advice on his skating. You know, coaching.

There’s also the matter of Victor’s reaction when Yuuri rejects him by walking away from his photo offer.

Victor is a man that most likely is not used to rejection. Yurio will mention one episode later how Victor had “the world in his hands”, Yakov says Victor “never did as he was told” and was “always thinking only of himself”. Probably comes from standing at the top for so long. Yuuri’s reaction to him probably intrigued him in a way. As a side note, remember this was before the banquet, but it’s also probably what made Victor pay special attention to Yuuri at said banquet too.

I will further explore this in the Victuuri section but it’s important to point out that, just like Victor kickstarted Yuuri on following the path of his character arc, Yuuri did the same thing for Victor. Even before episode 10, I never thought that Victor’s actions at the end of this episode were done on a whim or impulse. Not when we see him like this.

That’s a look of concentration and deep thought. We’re made more aware of what was going through his mind in later episodes, but still, Victor is clearly thinking very deeply about whatever it is he sees in Yuuri’s video before his look shifts into one of determination over making his decision to act.

Victor’s character is as complex as the role he plays in the overall narrative of Yuri on Ice. He plays many parts for different people and for most of the series we’re seeing him through the biased perspective of other characters. He serves as both mentor and love interest, he is both a rival and the ultimate ace, an aspiration and inspiration. He affects nearly all other skaters in the series just with his mere existence and status as the undefeated number 1 skater in the world. Still, Victor is one of our three main characters so he must be more than a device to advance the narratives around him. He must have his own narrative, his own character arc. It will only be explicitly spelled out in episode 10 but we have several hints pointing towards what exactly that arc is.

Starting with the fact that Victor starts this episode kissing his fifth consecutive gold medal as he poses for the cameras like the undefeated legendary ice prince he is, and 20 minutes later he is standing naked in a hot spring in Hasetsu, making a dramatic announcement to Yuuri that he will be his coach and make him win gold at the next GPF. I think it’s clear where he looks genuinely happy and where he’s faking it.

But the one thing in episode 1 that really helps define who Victor is as a person and where his narrative is going, is Stammi Vicino.

Keep reading

Bossy as Usual (IV)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You/Jinyoung

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 2,942

Summary:  After your less than professional encounter on a plane, you find out your new business partner is Park Jinyoung. A man whom, despite all the reasons otherwise, you find impossible to stay away from. 

Keep reading

New Life In New Lives (Hercules Mulligan x Reader)

“I don’t care what he said, it doesn’t mean jack squat” self conscious reader x Herc + “Sweet Hercules smut please? Where reader is a lil sad and Herc cheers her up by showing her how amazing she is *wink wink wink* you get what im saying? I love your blog. Grade A <3. ”

These were so much fun to write! Sorry I couldn’t make full on smut, the story was already so long and I couldn’t make it any longer but I hinted at it for you. If you can’t tell, I got a bit carried away. Enjoy!

A wail rang out in the halls of your once dead-silent house. Your eyelids quickly flipped open, as you began kicking off your sheets and rolling off the bed.

“What’s that, the third time so far?” Hercules grumbled, still snuggled under the sheets next to you.

“She’s just a baby, Herc. You can’t possibly blame her.” You said as you swung your legs off the bed.

Hercules placed his hand on your shoulder before you could get up.

“Relax, I’ll get her.” He said as he gently pulled you back into the bed and rolled out.

“You sure?”

He stood up, turned and smiled at you.

“Anything for you.”

You grinned as he stumbled out of the room to the nursery.

You laid down and recalled the past year or so with Hercules. You had fallen in love with him mere months before he had to be sent to war. He was your family’s tailor, sewing all of your family members garments: everything from evening ballgowns to bath robes. He had no clue who you were; he only knew you by your sizes and fabric preferences. But you knew all too well who he was.

You could recall your crush on him that had formed years ago when he began working for your family. Being the churlish young girl that you were, you would peek at him from behind the doorframe, or even go so far as to hide in the closet of fabrics and thread, all so you could stare at him as he meticulously worked on his projects. Always focused and never idle, you sometimes giggled at the sight of a very large, handsome man pouring his heart and soul into the pink, frilly dresses he made for your little sisters.

Then, one day he requested you come down for some new sizing. A gown had to be made for your debutante ball, and for whatever reason, Hercules wanted to measure you himself. You had just taken a bath, and dressed in nothing but underwear covered by a soft robe. You had never been so nervous. After two soft knocks, his door opened, and he invited you in. You remained silent as he instructed you to stand up straight and remove your robe. You quickly obliged, releasing your grip on the silk and letting it fall to your ankles. He then began to circle you, eyes bathing in every detail. He grabbed a note pad off of his desk and scribbled onto it before taking his tape measure wrap it around your waist.

“So tell me, (Y/N),” he suddenly inquired, breaking the silence. “Why have you been hiding in my fabrics closet?”

You felt your cheeks burn with a bright red blush. You had no idea that he had any clue of your hideout.

“I…. Uh….” You stammered as Hercules let the tape measure slip off of you, and prepared to measure your chest.

“Like watching me work?” He suggested as he looped the ruler around your bust.

“Yes.” You quickly replied, thankful for his guess that made you seem like less of a creep.

“Are you sure?” He had asked, looking right into your eyes with his big, brown ones and tightening the ruler around your chest.

And the rest was history. You two fell madly in love, making every possible excuse to see each other. You went so far as to deliberately tear up your own clothes so you could bring them to him to mend. He purposefully messed up his sizing, and always asked for you to come down and see him for corrections. You were intimate every change you had. From holding hands under a table or soft kisses when no one was around, to him sneaking up to your room late at night and passionately making love. Your affections were in secret, but you did not mind.

Then everything changed.

“You what?!?” You had screamed at him, eyes wide with disbelief.

“(Y/N),” he began, trying to defend himself. “I can’t be a tailor forever. I want to be an important part of history.”

“So you’re going to go out there because martyrdom is more attractive than a life with me?!”

“(Y/N), you know that’s not what I meant…”

You two argued for the remaining few weeks. Then, he left.

You had never felt so empty.

But that emptiness was filled very soon. You found out that you were pregnant.

All that followed after was a blur. You quickly wrote Hercules, frantic, upset and confused. He wrote only two words back.

“Marry me.”

Your parents, though disapproving of the marriage, still allowed you to marry Hercules. Having a daughter married to someone a few classes below the family was more honorable than having an unmarried daughter with children. Marriage papers were promptly sent to Hercules, and he signed them. The night he returned, you eloped. By that time your belly was noticeably swollen with child.

You heard the door swing open again, snapping you out of your moments of recollection.

“(Y/N), she’s hungry. And I can’t really help with that.” Hercules mumbled as he crawled back into bed, defeated. The baby continued to wail in the background.

You gathered up the strength in your tired body and pushed yourself off the bed, steadying yourself on the floor. You padded out of the room as you glanced back at your husband, collapsed back onto his side of the bed, probably already asleep. You followed the cries down the hall until you finally reached the nursery, where your little girl was red-faced and sobbing with hunger.

“Good morning, my love.” You whispered as you reached down into the crib and gently lifted her up. Her screams subsided when you rested her against you. You let your shoulder slide out of your nightgown, and lowered her to your breast, where she instantly attached to you and began suckling.

You sighed with relief as her tears quickly came to a stop, and gently kissed the top of her head as she happily nursed.

Lifting your head up again, you caught a glance of yourself in the mirror. You sighed in disappointment. You hated your new look. With the pregnancy came putting on many pounds, hips widening, stomach stretching out, thighs becoming fatter, and breasts swollen with milk. You had expected your weight to drop after you had given birth; but unfortunately it stayed.

Suddenly, your baby detached from you, content. You smiled as you kissed the top of her head once more as you swaddled her back into her blanket and placed her into her cradle. She was babbling and her feet were kicking against the wrap, full of energy and ready to play.

“Shhhh…. little one. We must sleep now.” You cooed.

She continued to wriggle on the crib mattress. You began to gently rock the crib, attempting to coax her into sleep.

Sleep my love, and peace attend thee
All through the night;
Guardian angels God will lend thee,
All through the night,
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,
Hill and vale in slumber steeping,
I my loving vigil keeping,
All through the night.

Her eyelids fluttered as both your singing and gentle swaying pulled her back into a sleepy state.

Angels watching ever round thee,
All through the night,
In thy slumbers close surround thee,
All through the night,
They should of all fears disarm thee,
No forebodings should alarm thee,
They will let no peril harm thee,
All through the night.

As you finished your last line, she was fast asleep, still tightly swaddled and her thumb in her mouth.

“Goodnight, my little angel,” you breathed as you turned to exit the room.

But your eye caught the mirror once more. You couldn’t help but stop and turn to face it, crest fallen. Your hands grabbed the stubborn fat surrounding your abdomen.


You eyes the largeness of your hips, and your cushiony thighs that lay beneath them.


You remembered the days when Hercules would make excuses to slip his hands and tape measure around your skinny, youthful, near-perfect frame. Back when your body was tight and glowing with health.

And now here you were, chubby after only a few months, throwing away your wonderful body for good. Your father hadn’t had the mixed words to say either, ever since he saw you after the pregnancy.
“Who knew Hercules would turn you into such an ugly cow of a daughter.” He laughed, crushing your spirit.
You weren’t used to this. You weren’t used to being so…so… ugly.

You stopped angrily grabbing at yourself when you heard someone approach the doorframe.

“My love, why are you still up?” Hercules asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“I was just…thinking.”

“Well come back to bed. Lay with me.” He persuaded.

“Hercules….does this, bother you?”

He raised his eyebrows in confusion.

“This, new figure.” You explained as you turned back to face the mirror, hands groping your newly formed love-handles.

“Of course not.” He replied as he sauntered over to you, wrapping his arms around your midsection, pulling you into his chest.

“It’s just…so different.” You whimpered, falling back into him.

“I barely notice it.”

“Well my father sa-”

“I don’t care what he said, it doesn’t mean jack squat. Do you really think it means anything to me? Come, look over here,” Hercules said as he gently pulled you away from the mirror, and directed your attention to the cradle.

Your baby girl was asleep, her chest falling up and down lightly, still sucking at her thumb. A few strands of hair delicately rested on her forehead.

“You made her. Isn’t that astounding?” He said, eyes filled with pride.

You nodded.

“And why should I care if you’ve gained a few pounds? You’ve given me the greatest gift I could have ever received. And you’re still as intelligent, witty, and gorgeous as ever.” He continued.

You looked up at him and smiled. He could always make you feel better.

“Besides, there’s more to love now.” He claimed as his hand playfully squeezed your ass.

You squeaked and slapped him away as he chuckled.

“Not in front of the baby!” You harshly whispered.

“I was just trying to prove my point.” He shrugged, grinning.

You turned your attention back to the crib. She was absolutely wonderful. Hercules was absolutely wonderful. There was so much love in your life, why let yourself be miserable at a single comment from your father? Hercules was right. As he always was.

You felt him grab your hand, and begin to gently tug you out of the nursery, and back into the bedroom.

“I love you so much,” you sighed as you approached the bed.

He smirked.

“What, you’re not going to say it back?” You asked.

“No,” he responded grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into him with a soft, gentle kiss. The kiss was followed by another, until he began making a trail down to your neck. His hands expertly began slipping your night gown off.

“I’m going to prove it to you, instead.”

Bloom (Soulmate AU)

Summary: A Soulmate AU in which whatever injuries or marks happen on Dean, they happen on you. 

Word Count: 1,654

Warnings: None.

A/N: Something quick before I continue writing the song fics :) 

There is pandemonium the first time a bruise appears on milky skin. Your mother cries, screeching and insisting she had been careful and tender when handling you. You’re only a year old, but purple still blooms on your cheekbone and your parents have to make sure that people know it wasn’t them. You seem to be in no kind of pain, giggling when your mom carefully prods at the injury and she breathes out in relief. It isn’t really your bruise, it’s your soulmate’s.

Mom and dad exchange glances. If there’s such a bruise on your face, they could only begin to imagine what your soulmate is going through. Your mom cries herself to sleep that night, praying for your other half and hoping it won’t happen again. She knows what it is to love a soulmate, after all, she sleeps with him every night.

However, the injuries persist. They become worse as you age. When you’re around 10, your arm bends at weird angle and you stare at it perplexed. What was your person up to now? Your mom, used to the injuries by now, ushers you inside the house quickly and dismisses your friends. She tuts and coos over you, until you let her know that it doesn’t hurt one bit. What hurts more is the worry that you feel for your soulmate. You don’t know what they’re up to, what they’re going through. And if they’re getting hurt this often, a normal life is not what they have.

Keep reading

Sweet Dreams

Peter Maximoff x Reader

Prompt: Peter wants to confess his feelings to the reader, who is notorious for napping at any given time during the day. Every time he looks for her, he finds her asleep.

Mutant Ability: The ability to project dreams onto other people in order to calm of frighten them

Requested By: @magnetic-electric

  Peter took a deep breath, pulling on his silver jacket. It was time to find you at the Institute’s Chem lab, of all places. He wondered if you’d be awake this time, or if he’d find you slumped over, your lips slightly open, your (Y/E/C) eyes closed peacefully, and your (Y/H/C) hair splayed around you. He wished desperately that it was the first option. Because of your abilities, (Y/N) was constantly asleep, and when you weren’t he always lost his nerve. You mesmerized him in everything you did, and he’d been trying for months to figure out how to tell you how he felt. Your powers were becoming an increasingly frustrating obstacle, however.

  He moved to the lab, his dark eyes searching for your frame. His heart fell as he saw you. Asleep. Again. Sighing, he sank down into the seat across from you, wondering vaguely what you were dreaming of, what reality you were in. What you would be able to do when you woke up.

“Really, Maximoff?” He turned to see Scott standing behind him, shaking his head. “Why do you even try? You know Y/N is going to be asleep.”

“Don’t go there, Summers.” Scott rolled his eyes and walked away, leaving him alone with you. He shook his head. Scott had no room to question him, not on this. He watched you for a moment longer before getting up and moving away. He’d have to try again another day.


  Of course you were asleep again. He couldn’t seem to catch a break, no matter how much he lingered. You’d just been so busy these past few weeks that every time he worked up his nerve, you were either sleeping or had to go. As fast as he was, he always seemed to be too late.

  He sighed for what must’ve been the millionth time that week. He liked you. No, he loved you. He was sure of that. He had always fallen hard and fast, but this was different. You drove him crazy and he was positive this wasn’t a fleeting thing. You distracted him, and you could match his humor without blinking. You made his heart beat fast and his head spin, and that meant something. Even Kurt had noticed, which was saying quite a bit.

“You realize that, outside of when Y/N is in her room, you two spend all your time together? And you still haven’t told her?” He rolled his eyes at Jean as she said the words.

“Perfection can’t be rushed.”


  The world melted around you as you ran, covered in blood. His blood. Your heartbeat was erratic and you couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. God, what had you done? It should’ve been you, not him.

  You ran further, trying to get away. You had to get away. You had to be faster than even him. You threw out your hands, attempting to block the onslaught of obstacles in front of you. Shadows poured from your hands, engulfing all in your path, suffocating everything. Suffocating you.

It should have been you.

  You remembered the dream in vivid detail as you sat on your bed, staring at the ceiling. It had been the worst one in a while, involving not only your eventual death by your uncontrollable power, but Peter’s. That was what had shaken you. You could’ve handled the nightmare, really. You’d handled similar ones before. You’d drowned and been drowned, stabbed and been stabbed. Sometimes they weren’t like that at all. Sometimes you rode dragons or fell in love or lived a happy life. Those were easy to handle. The one from before, that was the difficult one.

  You’d never dreamed of causing a friend’s death, accidental or otherwise. Especially not someone important to you. You huffed, brushing your hair from your face. It was going to be a long day.

~1 Week and several Failed Attempts Later~

  You had been awake for hours, refusing to sleep. How could you sleep after that nightmare? Sometimes, you loved your powers and the dreams that came with it, but this was not one of those times.

  You’d recently been having more and more dreams about Peter, and not all of them were good. You’d been able to handle them so far, but last night’s dream had been different. Last night he’d loved you, and you him. Last night he had taken bullets for you, and you’d cried. Last night you’d held him as he died, felt the life leave his body and seen the light leave his eyes. Your fault.

  You woke up drenched in sweat, your heart pounding. You’d been tempted to seek him out - he is your best friend after all - but you chose to stay in your bed. And so now here you were, exhausted. You’ve been up for seventeen consecutive hours, something you haven’t done since you were a child. You wondered vaguely if Peter was awake. Probably, you reasoned, he’s always up late.

  Peter was wondering exactly how he was going to confess to you when you knocked on his door. He was surprised to see you there as Jean had told everyone that you were sick and not to be bothered.

“Y/N? What’s going on?” His dark eyes flickered with concern, and you took a deep breath.

“I can’t sleep. I haven’t slept for seventeen hours.” You can see the magnitude of the words register on his face, and he gestures for you to enter the room. You could cut the tension with a knife as he shut the door behind you.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” You stare at his face, sitting down on his bed, head in hands. You couldn’t take this anymore, not looking at his concerned face. You burst into tears. “Y/N?” His voice is soft and you feel him next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. Oh, God, why did it have to be him?

“I’m sorry, Pete, it’s been a long day.” You could feel his eyes on you, and you knew he knew you were lying.

“Y/N, you can tell me. What was in that dream?” Your mind flashes back, the intensity of the dream returning to you in full. Suddenly, he felt it. He saw it.

  He felt the sharp pain in your heart as you watched him die in your arms, the hollow ache of ‘it’s my fault’. He felt you loving him. His breath caught in his throat as you managed to regain control over your powers. You look at him in horror, tears still running down your face.

“I didn't…. I didn’t mean to, I—!”

“Y/N, it’s okay. It’s okay.” His arm tightened around you and you leaned your head on his shoulder. The two of you stay like that for a long time, unspoken words passing between you. Until Peter breaks the silence.


“Hm?” You muttered, your eyes closed. He ran his hands through your hair, sending a tingling, calming sensation down your spine.

“I love you.” You merely moaned in response, shifting slightly. Peter snorted, laughing at his luck.

You were asleep.

anonymous asked:

what is the first time credence calls Percival papa like?

Percival didn’t think he would ever get used to the inside of Newt’s suitcase. He could come here everyday for the rest of his life and still get surprised by something or another, be it a beast, the ingenuity of a new habitat or the two humans in charge.

Not that he minded it, not at all. It was quite difficult to surprise an Auror, even more so one who had made it to be Director of Magical Security. Letting oneself get surprised when was was an Auror, especially in such an important position as Percival was, could lead to disastrous consequences. Maybe not always as dire as being captured and hid away by a Dark Lord and then impersonated by said Dark Lord, but it was a mistake they had to learn to avoid.

But here in the case, Percival could let himself be amazed and not fear that it would lead to another catastrophe. He could let his guard down, knowing that everything was under Newt’s control and the worst that would happen is the Niffler attempting to steal his watch, the one his father had given him when he had graduated from Ilvermony. Sure if the beasts were to leave the case, that was another story entirely, but it had not taken him long at all to realise that most of the creatures were more than content to stay here and be cared for and it was Newt’s dearest wish to do just that.

It had taken a bit longer to accept it was Credence’s too, but merely because he hadn’t want the boy to feel like he owed it to Newt for taking him in and didn’t take this work as penance for things that had been entirely out of his control. After all there was so many things Credence could be doing, but after a month or two of carefully watching from the sideline, he had had to admit that right now, this was probably the best for him.

He had started smiling again for one, that little turn of his lips every time one of the beasts showed him affection, and his eyes were becoming less and less haunted with each time Newt would come at his sides and ruffle his hair for a job well done.

There was also the fact that Credence didn’t try to hide away in the suitcase. He spent most of his day in there of course, but he would come out willingly and let himself be showed bits and pieces of his new world with a childlike awe that made Percival’s protective instincts come up to the surface even more.

However, it hadn’t took Newt to tell him to realise that Credence could become easily overwhelmed and that those bits and pieces were exactly the way to go. He would never entirely shake what happened in his childhood, what happened in the last months, but slowly he was taking steps to take his life back into his own hands.

Percival could have left him into Newt’s care with no worries and he might have done exactly that after the few mishaps with Credence. But that had felt too much like giving up and Percival had never been good at that, especially not with things so important.

So he had wisely listen to Queenie telling him that even if it didn’t seem like it now, he was good for Credence and never one to let his pride stop him from doing something, he had asked Newt’s help in how he should tread around Credence.

It had been one of the best decision he had ever made and because he had stuck around, he now had the family he had always wanted but thought he would have to give up forever because of his career. It didn’t matter if his relationship with Newt never progressed past that point of awkward flirting between friends and if Credence never saw him as a father figure.

Having them in his life was more than he had wished for in a very long time and he couldn’t care less if they didn’t care as deeply for him as he did for them. As long as they let him be a witness to their happiness, he would be happy himself.

So when Credence greeted him without looking away from the hippogriff he was feeding (and since when did Newt had a hippogriff? Newt was supposed to at least let him know of any new addition to his menagerie, so that Percival wouldn’t be caught unaware when one undoubtedly escape from the case), he froze for a moment at the words.

“Good afternoon Papa.”

Now he knew Newt was Mummy to his creatures and that Credence had started calling him that too, but it was the first time he heard “Papa” being used.

However looking at how nervous and guilty Newt seemed to be, as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been, he could only deduced it wasn’t the first time that word had been used to reference him inside the suitcase.

He raised a hand to stop the flow of explanations that would come out of Newt’s mouth and let his lips curl in a smile. Newt smiled back tentatively and dared to walk up to him.

“I see Mummy has picked up a new baby,” he told Newt simply, referring to the hippogriff, and the smile on the younger man’s face turned sheepish.

“I was going to tell you, I swear, but you haven’t come around in days.”

The words were not the accusation they could have been, simply a statement that he had been missed and they added to the warmth of having been called Papa by Credence.

“Well I am here now, so I think you should introduce me, no?”

At this Credence finally turned to him, excitement making his eyes look brighter.

“Oh Papa, let me show you how! You’ll see it’s easy!”

He let himself be dragged to the new addition to their crazy family, listening attentively to Credence, his smile getting wider every time he would let the word Papa slip out until he couldn’t remember what not smiling felt like.

@bouncybrittonie @karomel-02 @mockingatticus @oichealainn  You might be interested by this one ;)