feel like watching the hunger now

Fasting Tips

Fasting is hard. I just got done fasting for 42 hours (yay!) and it was sooo difficult. But because i now have control i’m going to fast again soon.

So i’d like to share my best tips on how to take control, stay in control, and fast.


1. The first 12 hours are always the hardest. Distract yourself for the first 13 hours. yes 13 because by then the hunger pains will have subsided greatly. Read a book, watch movies. STAY AWAY FROM FOOD.

2. Drink diet soda when you’re stomach starts grumbling loudly and you feel super hungry. The carbonation will trick your mind and plus, the flavor will help you stay sane.

3. Chew sugar free MINT gum. The flavor will actually make your stomach feel at ease. It tricks your mind that you’re full. And i mean… who can actually eat something after that strong mint taste?

4. Brush your teeth every 6 hours. One, it’s keep your teeth hygienic and strong. And  same with the gum, the mint taste will make it harder to eat. And if people ask if you want food, you can tell them you just brushed your teeth so you can’t.

5. If you must eat dinner with your family; say you have a stomach ache, sore throat, or even that your heads hurts too bad and you should take a nap.  

6. If step 5 doesn’t work; hide the food. In your sleeves, down your shirt, in your pockets. feed it to the family pet. You can even do this trick i made up-

(Get a cup and fill it with a little bit of water. Put the food in your mouth and chew DON”T SWALLOW and every few bites act like you’re about to take a drink drink, but actually spit the food into the cup.)

7. If you fast for more than 36 hours and you feel faint; take a nap, drink diet soda, chew gum, or you can even chew food and spit it out.

8. Look at thinspo constantly. This way you won’t lose motivation.

9. Do your makeup and/or have a spa day.You deserve the self care. And this will make you want to look beautiful, thin, small, perfect. Search up clothes you’ll wear when you reach your goal weight.

10. Stand in front of the mirror naked. Remind yourself why you’re doing this.


If you can have enough control to say no, then you WILL reach your ultimate goal weight. Just keep going.

It’s going to be hard. But it will definitely be worth it.

i got your text, baby

jimin comes home hungry and exhausted, but he has no energy left to cook or to order so he texts his boyfriend, jeongguk, to bring him food. jeongguk arrives half an hour later.

note: check out my kookmin drabble collection on ao3

jimin really hates fridays. one would probably disagree because fridays are the best. fridays meant parties. fridays meant sleeping the night away and waking up late because there’s no classes on the next day.

but for jimin, fridays meant extra hours of dance practice. don’t get him wrong, he loves dancing, but going straight to a four hour long of dance practice after work isn’t really the best, you know. his boyfriend scolded him about it before, threatening that he’ll talk to jimin’s instructor and give him a good punch or two for making his baby mochi practice for four hours on a friday. jimin just giggled at him after that.

it’s not like jimin have a choice, though. he only attends dance practices thrice a week because he’s busy with uni and work.

usually, when jimin gets home on fridays, he would immediately throw his body on the couch, not bothering to go to his room because he’s that exhausted.

but right now, his stomach is grumbling — demanding to get it filled with, well, food. but jimin’s too exhausted to even cook or order himself some food. so, he opts for the easiest way — ask his boyfriend to bring him some.

with a little (read: a lot) effort, he reaches one hand out to the side of the couch to grab his phone. it took him half a minute, but once his phone is in his hand, he wastes no time texting jeongguk, telling him how hungry he is, but he’s too tired to move.

jimin drops his phone to his side once he sends the message. he could already feel his eyes slowly fluttering close, but he’s trying his very damn best to fight it. only for a minute, only for a minute, he tells himself before he completely lets sleep take over his body.

not even half an hour later, jimin awakens to the sound of his door being unlocked. he could hear silent huffs and rustle of plastic bags. that’s probably jeongguk, he thinks.

he opens his eyes and attempts to get up, but fails miserably, a groan slipping past his lips when he only managed to flip his body so that he could see jeongguk. he smiles at his boyfriend, eyes moving down to the plastic bags and…ohmygod is that a box of pizza? fuck, my boyfriend’s a literal angel, i’m blessed.

jimin’s heart speeds up, still having the same feeling just like the first time his boyfriend brought him food at an ungodly hour. god, he’s in so deep.

“i got your text, baby.” jeongguk smiles, raising both of his hands to show the plastic bags of food and the box of pizza.

“i love you so fucking much,” jimin mumbles sleepily as he lifts his arms forward and wiggles his fingers cutely, motioning his boyfriend to come close. jeongguk just chuckles, sauntering towards his boyfriend just to tease him, earning himself a low grumble from jimin.

once jeongguk reaches jimin, he drops everything down and pulls his hyung up, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist and tugging him closer until their bodies are flushed together. jimin blinks up at him, eyes overflowing with affection.

“i missed you so much, gguk-ah.”

“we just saw each other this morning, baby.”

“shut up, i still missed you.”

jeongguk giggles, pinching jimin’s nose and pulls himself out of his boyfriend’s arms. jimin whines, hands reaching for jeongguk, but the taller man dodges him.

“i know you’re really hungry, baby. let’s eat first, then cuddle later, hmm?” jimin pouts, almost (read: completely) forgetting the reason why he asked jeongguk to come. it’s not his fault that just the mere presence of his boyfriend makes his brain forget about everything and just think of jeongguk jeongguk and jeongguk.



the couple are currenlty seated on the floor, with jimin settled between jeongguk’s legs, a bowl of jjajjangmyeon on his lap and a piece of pizza and chicken in each of his hands. yeah, he’s that hungry. jeongguk isn’t eating that much, just a slice of pizza and watching his cute boyfriend eat are enough to make him feel full. cheesy? always. for jimin.

they’d also feed each other from time to time, but mostly it’s just jimin shoving food into jeongguk’s mouth because kookie, you should eat more!!! i can’t have my baby holding back his hunger just because i’m really hungry.

jeongguk chuckles. “no, really, hyung, i’m not hungry. you can eat everything if you want, i bought all of these for you anyway.”

jimin could only pout then he continues eating.

watching jimin eat or more like staring at jimin’s lips while he’s eating isn’t probably the smartest thing to do because now, jeongguk could only think of kissing jimin breathless.

their bodies are pressed together, with jeongguk’s arms circled around jimin’s waist, completely forgetting about the discarded slice of pizza that he put on the box, and his chin resting on jimin’s shoulder. his eyes are trained on jimin’s lips, gulping at how glossy and kissable it looks at the moment.

jimin turns his head. “what are you star–” jeongguk didn’t let him finish, leaning in to catch jimin’s lips with his. a soft whimper escapes jimin’s lips and jeongguk smiles.

when jeongguk pulls away, he scrunches up his nose cutely. “you taste like jjajjangmyeon.”

“i never asked you to kiss me.”

“yeah, but i wanted to.”

jeongguk dives back in, devouring jimin’s lips like he’s been deprived of it.


how was it? :) i’m accepting requests!! ^^

It feels like a ten-ton weight is handed to every girl at the age of twelve, and then she is invited to mount the tightrope of adolescence. It is as if we look at these spindly-legged, ponytailed girls, fresh out of sixth grade and say, ‘Now you will be grown. You will be watched. You will fight every day of your life to be respected- by yourself and others. You will have to read between the lines, protect your reputation, be wary of your best friends. You will have myriad hungers. You will need to control these constantly.’

Courtney Martin, Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters

Give your twelve-year-old self some love! What would you say to that girl, knowing what you know now?

(anon messages welcome!)

Join our discussion at @lets-read-about-feminism


Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 6.459

Warnings: smut and a cute frame story, if that is a warning ;)

A/N: Yeah, I’m back from vacation ;) I hope that will please you all ;) Have fun!

“Die, what?” Bucky asked confused as you gave him the dvd box with your most favorite movies. You chuckled by the sight of the confused but adorable expression on the face of the deadliest man on this planet.

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No Matter What. [Daryl Dixon x Reader]

Word Count: 2,893
Prompt: #40“You tried to shoot me!” 
                       “Next time, I won’t miss. Don’t piss me off again.”
Warnings: Language

[Part Two]

A/N: This is my first fic I’m posting on this blog so I’d love to hear what you all think! Thank you for reading(: & thank you to promptsfor-writers for the prompt!

Three days.

It had been three whole days since you had last eaten a real meal. Well as ‘real’ as you could get these days. You had managed to find some extremely stale crackers in a backpack you cut off a walker you put down over a day ago but you could hardly count those. They didn’t help the rumbling in your stomach. You finished off the last of your food stash almost a week ago when you were separated from your group when a herd of walkers came through your camp. Since then you had been combing the woods looking for any members of your group and rationing every bit of food you had. And that wasn’t much to begin with.

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Handsome Disaster pt. 5

Summary: When the school bad boy and womanizer Hoseok turns his attention on you it’s hard to ignore. Especially with your best friends being in a relationship and living five doors down from each other.

Genre: Angst/Smut/Romance

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: There are mentions of ABUSE and DEATH in this part of the story, if you are easily triggered by these topics please DO NOT READ.

part one part two part three part four part five  part six  part seven

You found yourself sitting in your old house on the dusty old green couch that your father designated as your sitting area. You could smell your mothers cooking in the kitchen and your stomach turned with hunger. It had been years since you’d been in this house and even longer since you’ve smelt this aroma that immediately made you feel like home. The only problem was that home wasn’t a good place and you knew that now. However nine year old you had no clue and waited for mom to pick you up from school so you could return. Your father was sitting in the recliner by the window chain smoking while watching the sports channel.

You looked down at your clothes and noticed that they were what you wore to the fight and you weren’t nine but your parents looked exactly the same as how you saw them last. Mom was dirty and tired and looked like she was ready to pass out of exhaustion and dad sat like a fat cat ready to be served his next meal. You walked into the kitchen and saw your mother sitting in the floor and bandaging her cuts and scrapes that dad had given her. Her bruises were deep and the size of his fists in shades of purple and green. Silently tears fell down her beautiful face and she held in each one of her cries as she cleaned her wounds with alcohol and peroxide.

You started to shake and cry with her. How is it that you had no clue what was happening to your mom behind closed doors? How did you not recognize the small grunts and grimaces she let out when you hugged her?

If you would have known what daddy did to mommy you would have helped her. You would have been a good girl and made life less hard for her. You would get good grades and not spill your food at the table. You wouldn’t ask for things at the stores anymore and you’d help around at the house.

But daddy was never mean to you. He took you shopping and to the park. He loved you, but that love is what cut off his love for mommy. It was your fault that he hurt her.

Dad yelled out for another carton of cigarettes for mom to bring to him, but she wasn’t quick enough. She couldn’t get herself to stand up with the screaming pain that her limbs held. Her efforts to peel her body off the ground wasn’t fast enough for daddy’s short fuse. He came into the kitchen and his face suddenly changed from the sweet daddy that you knew to a man who was possessed. His balled his fists until his knuckles turned white and he barred his teeth like a rabid dog ready to attack its prey. He raised his fists and swung then violently at mom, beating her further into the floor. She didn’t dare make a single sound to make him even angrier.

You tried to push him away from her using all of the force that you had in your body, but he wouldn’t move. Not even a single inch. You tried and tried crying harder by the second with each blow that he landed on her swollen and bloodied body.

You knew that this was the day that he would take her life if you didn’t stop him. Her years of constant anguish and fear would come to an end by the pounding fists of this devil. The day your mother was freed was also the day that your life fell to shambles by the lack of the loving parents that you believed that you had.

You went stiff as you saw her body slowly start to release its tension into a quiet stillness. She became unresponsive to any form of touch as he continued to release his anger on her already lifeless body. And then he turned to you with a look of disgust, one that he similarly exhibited to the woman who you used to cherish the most in the world. You slowly began to back away from him bumping into chairs and tables. But the more you ran the more he enjoyed the chase. He reached for you and grabbed you by the shoulders shaking you violently. –

“Y/N, OPEN YOUR EYES” a voice yelled to you.

You tried to force your eyes to open still in a panic from your nightmare. Your eyelids felt like they were glued shut and it drained all of your energy trying to force your eyes to open wide. Your body hurt and you felt like you had been crushed under a bus. It was physically exhausting trying to make yourself wake up. You could feel the tear stains that traced the sides of your face and continued to flow down out of your dreams and frustration.

The feeling of being shook started again and you suddenly remembered what happened just before you blacked out. You summoned up every ounce of energy to force your eyes open and fight for your life. Your eyes slowly opened and your vision was a blurry teary mess. You could make out that you were no longer in the old building that the fight was in but you had no idea of who you were with. Your ears started to ring and you swallowed to try to make them pop. Nothing happened and you became panicked all over again. Your throat was dry and choking you with every breath that you took. You suddenly began to hyperventilate and cry mercilessly. Your body shook and you rocked back and forth while trying to make any sort of noise to call attention for someone to help. You immediately began to fear that the worst thing possible happened as you sat there senseless and helpless.

A pair of arms grabbed hold of your shoulders and smoothed the back of your head, you knew exactly who this touch belonged to no matter if you had vision or not. Sera was there and taking care of you, just like she did so many times for you in the past. You let out a few more tears before you calmed down and your body totally relaxed and you fell asleep again. The fight was over and you were safe now, you surrendered once more to the darkness.

You woke up what seemed to be years later in your bedroom with a pounding headache. Your vision was back and you could hear again. There were voices coming from the living room and you could tell exactly who it was. You crept up to the door and leaned in trying to hear what the conversation was about.

“What I don’t understand is what she was doing there in the first place! You told me that you wouldn’t tell her!” Hoseok yelled out

“And neither of us did, we ran into her there!” Minhyuk cleared up

“She was there on a date with Shownu, she didn’t tell me that she was going.” Sera stated

“DON’T! Fucking say his name!” Hoseok half grumbled and yelled

“Look I don’t quite understand it myself why she would agree to go, but she did and it was definitely a good thing that we were all there to protect her.” Sera spoke up “Look, I know that right now everything is super fucked up, but what’s happened is happened and the only way we can help her is by supporting her and taking care of her… not by fighting like this.”

You tried to hold back the sudden need to cough with every fiber of your being, but your need to do so couldn’t be stopped. You let out rough coughs that quickly escalated to dry heaving. Sera and Hoseok were quick to come into your room and check on you and were shocked to see you up and out of bed. The immediately motioned for you to sit down on your bed and you did what you were told. Minhyuk quickly came in with bottles of water and handed one to you without the cap, ready for you to drink.

Sera sat next to you on the bed and Minhyuk and Hoseok stood and watched you drain the entire bottle in less than a few seconds. Sera patted you on the back and looked at you nervously.

“Are you okay?” she asked and you nodded your head with a small smile

“How do you feel?” Hoseok asked you

You looked up at him nervously. You couldn’t answer that question. You don’t even remember what happened let alone just how horrible things became before you made it back home.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember what happened. I remember being carried by someone but I was already blacked out” you confessed with a small voice.

“It was Hoseok.” Minhyuk said reassuringly with a small smile with the intentions to comfort you “Nothing happened, we got you before he could do anything to you” he said.

“Hoseok saw from the front that Shownu pulled you away and that you weren’t okay and signaled for us to help you until he could help himself.” Sera chipped in.

You shuddered at the sound of his voice, just hearing it alone made you feel dirty.

You processed for a minute what they had told you. Nothing happened to you, and everything is fine. You closed your eyes and willed the tears to stop form surfacing. You were tired of crying and tired of feeling hopeless.

“Thank you” you said with your head still down, embarrassed and ashamed of the circumstances that you were in. Any fool could have heard the quiver in your voice and know that you weren’t okay.

Sera hugged you and wiped the few tears that managed to escape. When you finally were able to calm down you looked up and took notice of Hoseok’s face. He had cuts and bruises on his cheek, jaw and arms. You could image how he looked on his stomach and back. Suddenly you didn’t feel so sorry for yourself anymore and felt the need to help him instead.

You stood up and walked closer to him and lightly touched his arm where it was turning a violent shade of indigo. He let out a small hiss and pulled his arm in closer to his body.

“Are you okay?” you asked genuinely concerned for him

He looked at you wearily and frowned

“It’ll heal” was all he said

“Have you treated them at all? You still have dried blood on your lip.” You pressed even further

Hoseok looked increasingly more and more uncomfortable with your attention directed at him

“Not yet”

You walked away and went straight to the bathroom to pick up the first aid kit. When you came back down the hall everyone was leaving your bedroom. You grabbed onto Hoseok’s arm and brought him back inside your room and sat him down on the bed. He gave you a shocked look but remained seated and didn’t once complain. You opened up the kit and pulled out all of the supplies that you needed.

“So… how long have you been fighting?” you asked as you cleaned his wounds.

“Ever since I can remember” he answered back with hesitation, and you nodded your head.

“For someone who’s supposed to be so good, you got pretty messed up” you said

He cleared his throat before responding “I’ve been worse”

You stopped cleaning his wound and looked him in the eyes. Why did he have to do something like this? Why couldn’t he just be normal and get his thrills out of riding his motorcycle like anyone else?

You caught yourself staring for too long and grabbed a band-aide. You were pulling of the plastic when he asked you a question that you weren’t prepared for.

“Why do you hate fighting so much?”

You looked back up at him for a moment and then proceeded to get the band-aide ready.

“Sera told me that you hated it so why did you go?” he pressed again

You debated for a minute if you wanted to have this conversation with him or just drop the whole thing. You placed the band-aide on his cheek and then licked your lips before taking another water bottle from the night stand and drinking from it, trying to mentally prepare yourself.

“My father was abusive and he… took my mom’s life” you said as clearly as possible.

“I’m so sorry” Hoseok said with a remorseful expression. He leaned in like he wanted to hug you but hesitated.

You were proud of yourself for telling him without crying again. He was the first person that you told other than Sera willingly and you felt like a weight had been lifted. It would always hurt talking about your past, but for some reason you felt good about telling Hoseok. You felt like he would understand and certainly would help you if you needed it. He would almost be the perfect man if he wasn’t so happy with not committing to women and if he didn’t fight, which you knew were always going to be a part of who he is.

“Are you hungry Angel? I made a lot of money last night so I’ll by you anything you want to eat. My treat” he said with a smile as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Pizza” was all that you said and Hoseok chuckled and stood up from the bed.

He offered his hand to help you get up and you took it. As he started to walk away he pulled his hand back but you hesitated to let go. He turned to the side and looked down at your hands together, but instead of pulling his away he intertwined your fingers. He looked up at you and gave you a blank look, hinting at no emotion that he felt. After a moment he turned away again walking with you out to the living room hand-in-hand.

This was written part dream and part reality, sorry if there was any confusion!

When the hummingbird
sinks its face
into the trumpet vine,
into the funnels

of the blossoms,
and the tongue
leaps out
and throbs,

I am scorched
to realize once again
how many small, available things
are in this world

that aren’t
pieces of gold
or power—
that nobody owns

or could buy even
for a hillside of money—
that just
float about the world,

or drift over the fields,
or into the gardens,
and into the tents of the vines,
and now here I am

spending my time,
as the saying goes,
watching until the watching turns into feeling,
so that I feel I am myself

a small bird
with a terrible hunger,
with a thin beak probing and dipping
and a heart that races so fast

it is only a heartbeat ahead of breaking—
and I am the hunger and the assuagement
and also I am the leaves and the blossoms,
and, like them, I am full of delight, and shaking.

Mary Oliver, “Summer Story”

Trying Something New By TEN

Daddy!Jungkook x Reader (Smut)

Chapters: 1/1 (Oneshot) 

A/N: Request for Anon! Sorry Anon I didn’t add the “ Lays in bed with you till you feel better” but added another part to it hope that’s okay! but yes enjoy, Daddy kink is fun for me to write haha. 

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So I got bored...

I had nothing to do today and Isabelle is the cutest thing ever, so this was the result. Please enjoy :)

(All credit for Isabelle Wilde goes to @trashasaurusrex)

Nick threw his arms above his head, yawning as he stretched himself in the seat. Judy looked over and snickered at the fox as she drove the squad car.
“Tired Slick?” She asked amusedly, keeping her eyes on the road. Nick finished his stretch and looked over.
“Bored.” He corrected, “When was the last time a patrol was this dull Carrots?” Judy grimaced in agreement. Since their had patrol started at 8, absolutely nothing had happened. No robberies, no shoplifting, no muggings, not even a jaywalker!
“It has been pretty bad,” She conceded, “but look on the bright side, we only have three more hours left!” Nick checked the clock on the dash.
“It’s only two!?” He moaned, “Ughhh. Also, we have to pick up Isabelle from pre-school at three so don’t forget.” Judy nodded her head absentmindedly, accustomed to picking up Nick’s daughter when they were on patrol. The pair sat in silence for several minutes while they drove through Savanna Central, searching for any type of crime to break the monotony of their day. When Judy stopped at a stoplight, Nick cleared his throat.
“So, uh, Judy, what are you doing tonight?” He asked, trying to seem casual. Judy turned to face him, noticing the use of her first name.
“Nothing.” She said giving him a curious look, “Why?” Nick averted his eyes and looked down at his paws.
“I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner tonight.” He said quickly. Judy smiled and returned her gaze to the road as the light turned green.
“With you and Isabelle? Of course Nick.” She replied, confused as to why Nick was so nervous.
“Not with me and Isabelle, just with me. Like a date” Nick clarified awkwardly.

“Oh.” Judy said, surprised by the turn of events. Nick looked over at her, barely masking the fear he felt, when she laughed.
“It’s about time Nick!” She said happily, her face breaking into a wide smile as the surprise faded. Nick’s face lit up. He opened his mouth to continue speaking, but then his phone began to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and his face fell as he viewed the caller ID.
“Hello?” He answered, his brow furrowed in concern. “Oh no! I’ll be right there. Thank you.” Nick hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket.
“That was Isabelle’s school. Apparently she was just sick.” He said worriedly.
“Poor thing!” Judy exclaimed, pulling a U-turn as she headed for Isabelle’s pre-school. “We’ll be there soon.” She said, noting the worry on Nick’s face. He sighed and slumped back in his seat.
“I’m sorry Judy, but I think I might need to take a rain check on that date.” He said sadly, leaning against the window.
“There’s no need to apologize Nick.” She responded, “Your daughter’s sick and you need to take care of her.” Nick nodded his head in agreement and sat in silence until they pulled up to the school. Judy parked and they both hopped out of the car, Nick speedily walking to the nurse’s office.
“Daddy!” Judy heard a high pitched voice shout as she entered the room to find the little vixen with her arms wrapped around Nick, who had bent down to hug her.
“Hey sweetheart! How’re you feeling?” He asked sympathetically.
“My tummy hurts.” She responded with a frown. “Hi Aunt Judy!” She said, spotting Judy hanging out by the door.
“Hi Isabelle.” Judy said with a little wave as Nick thanked the nurse, “I’m going to take you and your dad home now ok?” Isabelle nodded her head as Nick picked her up and began carrying her out to the car, Judy trailing behind them. He put her in the backseat and hopped up next to her. Judy chuckled as the fox fussed over the kit, fastening her seatbelt and making sure she was set before he did the same for himself.
“Everyone ready back there?” She asked as she hopped into the driver’s seat and started the car up. Nick nodded his head and Isabelle gave her a thumbs-up. Judy pulled out of the parking lot and began the short drive to Nick’s apartment.
“Do you still feel sick?” Nick asked.
“A little.” She answered scrunching up her face. Nick nodded his head and put an arm around her.
“Here we are.” Judy announced a few minutes later, stopping the car right outside the door. Nick picked up Isabelle and slid out of the car, being careful not to jostle her too much. He walked up to the driver’s side window as Judy rolled it down.
“I’ll talk to Bogo for you and tell him what happened.” She said before he could speak. “Now go inside and take care of your daughter.”
“Thank you so much Judy.” Nick said with a grateful smile before turning around and heading inside. Judy watched him walk inside and then pulled away from the curb and headed back towards the precinct.
Judy walked inside and greeted Clawhauser with a wave.
“Hey Judy!” He called as she walked towards him, “Where’s Nick?”
“Isabelle got sick so Nick is home taking care of her.” She explained as she approached the desk. Clawhauser sighed sympathetically.
“I hope she’s alright. Isabelle is the sweetest little thing.” He said fondly. Judy nodded her agreement.
“Anyways, I just have to go explain things to Bogo so Nick doesn’t get in trouble.”
“Good luck.” Clawhauser said as she walked towards the Chief’s office.
Judy knocked on the door.
“Come in.” The chief replied, his gruff tones muffled by the door. Judy walked inside and jumped onto the chair across his desk.
“Hopps.” He said, scrutinizing the bunny, “What is it?”
“Nick’s daughter got sick earlier today sir. He had to go home to take care of her.” Bogo frowned. “However,” Judy kept going, noticing his displeasure, “we finished the majority of our patrol and there wasn’t a trace of crime.” Bogo nodded his head and returned his gaze to the papers on his desk.
“If Wilde’s daughter is sick, it is his first duty to care for her.” He said simply. “Dismissed.” Judy exited quickly and quietly, thanking the universe that the chief had a soft spot for Nick’s adorable daughter.
Nick picked up Isabelle and carried her out of the bathroom, wiping the remnants of her lunch from her snout.
“There we go.” He said, placing her on the sofa and wrapping her in a blanket. “Is there anything I can get you?”
“My mouth tastes funny.” Isabelle replied with a sour expression on her face. Nick ran off and returned with some water for the kit who guzzled it gratefully.
“Hey Isa,” Nick said with a smile, holding his paws behind his back, “guess what I have?” She shrugged her shoulders and pulled the blanket tighter around herself. Nick pulled a slim case from behind his back, eliciting a yip of happiness from the kit.
“Is that Kung-Fu Panda?!” She asked excitedly. Nick smiled and nodded his head as he opened the case and put the DVD in the player. Nick flopped down on the sofa dramatically next to his daughter, pulling her close to him and earning a fit of giggles for his antics.
“Thank you daddy.” Isabelle said as she snuggled up to Nick. Nick smiled, looking fondly at the kit and then ruffled her ears.
“Look the movie’s starting!” He said, bringing her attention back to the TV.
Nick checked his phone as he felt it vibrate to discover a text from Judy.
“Let me in” She said. Nick checked besides him to see that Isabelle was still enraptured by the movie. He slid silently out of his seat to avoid disturbing the happy kit and tiptoed to the door, opening it to find Judy Hopps standing there carrying a large bag of groceries.
“What’re you doing here?” He whispered, confused by her sudden appearance.
“I’m here to make you guys dinner.” She replied at a normal volume, drawing Isabelle’s attention.
“Is that Aunt Judy?!” She yelled excitedly. Nick smiled and waved Judy in as Isabelle came running around the corner, her blanket trailing behind her like a cape. Judy set the bag on the ground just before Isabelle flew into a hug.
“Well someone’s feeling better.” She laughed, returning the hug.
“Daddy bought me Kung-Fu Panda.” She said happily as she stopped hugging Judy.
“He did?!” Judy said in surprise, giving Nick an approving glance as he paused the movie. “I was going to make you some soup Isa, would you like that?” The little vixen nodded her head rapidly as her stomach growled from hunger. “Awesome!” She said, rubbing Isabelle’s head, “Now go watch your movie, and I’ll make it.” Isabelle waddled back to the sofa, pulling the blanket back around her. Nick resumed the movie for her and followed Judy into the small kitchen.
“You don’t have to make dinner Judy.” He said quietly. Judy waved off his complaints as she pulled several pots and pans from his cabinets.
“Go watch the movie with Isabelle.” She said firmly, “I’ll call you both when it’s done.”
Judy crept into the room carrying three steaming bowls of soup. She set two of them on the coffee table in front of Nick and Isabelle and carried the third to an armchair, where she plopped down into with a contented sigh. Isabelle grabbed a spoon and started to eat, but Nick stopped her.
“Ah, ah, ah, what do we say?” He said, plucking her spoon away.
“Thank you Aunt Judy!” She said before leaping up and grabbing the spoon from Nick’s paw.
“You’re welcome.” Judy said, chuckling as the kit stole the spoon and dug in. The three of them finished the meal in silence as they watched the movie. The movie finally finished and Nick collected all the dishes and returned them to the kitchen. Isabelle stretched and let out a yawn.
“Oh my god,” She whispered to Nick, “That is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” Nick nodded in agreement as he watched the kit curl up in her blanket. He walked over and picked her up, carrying the sleepy vixen to her room.
“Goodnight Isa.” He said, placing her in her bed and tucking the covers in.
“Daddy, can Judy be my mommy?” She asked sleepily. Nick froze as he thought about his answer.
“I hope so sweetheart.” He replied as she drifted off to sleep, “I hope so.”

peachypotpourri  asked:

(fix-it au and mt!prompto here) I really don't have anything specific in mind, just... more <3 More of either promptis after the fix-it fic and their lifes in insomnia that is in the process of rebuilding, or anything really of mt!prompto. Stuff from before the fic, or way after, anything. Thank you <3

Author’s Notes: Thank you for this prompt! It was really fun to work with and gave me a lot of leeway, haha. I ended up doing a snippet of Running Behind!Prompto, set between the first and second chapters of the fic. I hope this works for you. <3


With the Dawn


NH-01987’s foot finds a rock, and he goes down on the scrub grass of the ground.

He doesn’t have time to rest, though – doesn’t have time to do anything but scramble back to his feet and lurch onward, as fast as his legs can carry him.

Since his frantic escape from Gralea ten months ago, every waking moment has been filled with new and painful challenges. His days are spent in dark overhangs and thickly wooded areas, attempting to snatch a few hours of sleep away from the burning embrace of the sun. His nights are spent moving, pushing ever east.

He has some vague idea that he’d like to find a place to stop, eventually. It will need to be secluded, and there will need to be food and water close enough for him to live off the land. There will have to be shelter from the daylight, which scorches him red and raw. He’ll have to find a weapon, before he gets there, so that he has something to defend himself, or even use to catch food. Gods, food would be nice.

But those are dreams for another time.

For now, NH-01987 will just be happy to live to see the dawn.

He staggers again, and reaches out just in time to catch himself on the trunk of a tree before he can fall face-first into the dirt. The nights in Lucis are an endless exercise in endurance. They offer protection from the sun above him, true – but the daemons that bubble up out of the ground dog his steps and keep him on the move. If he pushes on, exhaustion tears at him; if he tries to stop, the daemons do.

He thinks he’s lost the horde of goblins that were nipping at his heels. He hasn’t heard them in a while, crunching through the undergrowth.

Maybe he’s safe. Maybe he can rest a minute.

He’s barely had time to process the thought when the ground near him erupts into a creaking groan. From the puddle of inky black that splays out beneath his feet, something begins to emerge: an eerie shade of purple, amorphous and strange.

NH-01987 knows these things. They grow and they grow, and when they finally burst, too swollen to sustain their form, anything within the blast radius is left on the ground, electrocuted and writhing in pain. He’s done that once before. He doesn’t want to do it again.

So NH-01987 runs. He ducks his head and forces his exhausted body to put one foot in front of the other.

Just a little faster, he pleads with himself. Just a little farther.

It’s a lie, and he knows it; he’ll likely have to keep this up the whole night. But the more he repeats it, the more he believes it, and he needs something to believe, right now.

If he had a light of his own, he might have missed it. The glow is faint, but with only the moonlight to guide him, the bluish tinge stands out against the darkness of the night.

NH-01987 has never seen anything like it before. It’s not like the warm electric glow of the lights in towns. It’s not like the flickering of a campfire.

It’s something altogether different, but right now, NH-01987 doesn’t care what it is.

Some kinds of light keep the daemons away. That’s enough for him.

NH-01987 veers toward the blue glow. There’s something faint and smoke-like rising from the ground, but he can’t make it out – doesn’t have time to wonder what it could be. He only stumbles on, heart plunging the closer he gets. He can see the source of the light, now: some sort of writing carved into the stone on the ground.

It’s not bright enough, he thinks, as he crests the ridge to stand on top of the strange marks. This won’t be enough to keep him safe.

But to NH-01987’s wonder, the daemons come no closer. They hover around the edges of the stone, watching him with eyes of glowering purple flame.

He takes a breath in, and then another. He stands staring at them for a long moment, waiting for them to press in around him.

They never come.

They stay beyond the circle of stone, and after what feels like years but is probably only minutes, NH-01987 sinks to his knees, weak with relief.

The daemons stay. They watch, and they hover, and they come no nearer.

For perhaps half an hour, NH-01987 rests, overwhelmed with gratitude. His thoughts are muddy and indistinct from exhaustion; his legs ache, and his back aches, and he has a dozen minor unhealed injuries that pain him, but he’s safe for now, and that’s all that matters.

He doesn’t know for certain when the feeling starts.

It begins in his stomach, low and churning, like the one memorable occasion when hunger drove him, in desperation, to gnaw hopefully at a long-dead creature scraped from the road. The sickness burned at the back of his mouth and twisted at his guts; it’s like that now, but a thousand times worse.

Before long, he feels so dizzy he has to lie down – shifts so that he’s curled up on the glowing stone beneath him.

He closes his eyes and drifts for a time. When he opens them again, the nausea is stronger, and he burns, all over, like he’s ventured out beneath the sun.

NH-01987 struggles to rise, but he can’t quite get his arms under him.

For the first time, it occurs to him that if daemons fear the light so badly, the scourge burning through his veins won’t take to it, either.

He drags himself toward the edge of the stone area – gets perhaps six inches before he doubles over. He shouldn’t have anything to vomit up, anymore. He hasn’t eaten in two days. But black bile comes up, thick and dark and viscous.

NH-01987 chokes and gags – bends his head and retches again.

There’s a lot of it. There hasn’t been this much since the last time the doctors in Niflheim strapped him to a table and stuck tubes in his arms. That day, he’d spent the better part of an afternoon bent over, choking up bitter sludge until tears streamed down his face and his trainers, in disgust, had dismissed him from the rest of the day’s drills.

He needs to go. He needs to get away.

The burning is worse, now; it’s thrumming through his veins and searing him beneath the skin.

But whatever it is, this strange blue light seems to have sapped what little strength he has left. He tries to drag himself forward, but finds that his arms shake and wobble and refuse to hold him.

Move, NH-01987 thinks. Move. You didn’t come all this way to die here.

But his body doesn’t listen, and there at the corners of his eyes, the world has gone grey and indistinct.

NH-01987 closes his eyes. He presses his forehead against the glowing blue writing beneath him.

And he sleeps, for what he’s sure will be the last time.


When NH-01987 wakes, he’s very warm.

The ground beneath him is hard and unforgiving, and there’s a terrible taste in his mouth, and he blinks his eyes open, bleary and uncertain.

The first things he sees is stone, traced with strange carvings.

The second thing he sees, when he rolls over onto his back, is the sun.

The sky is wide and blue above him, and there it is, in the height of its arc, beating down on the world.

NH-01987 yelps – flinches – scrambles to his feet.

He’s halfway to the cover of the surrounding trees when it hits him: the light on his skin doesn’t burn.

There is pain, still, but it’s the pain of old bruises, of the blisters on the soles of his feet, of the goblin clawmarks long since scabbed.

This pain doesn’t sear him from the inside out. It doesn’t catch at him until he’s a huddled ball beneath an outcropping of rock. This pain is not the sun’s pain, and NH-01987 stumbles to a stop, frozen with realization.

All below him, the rock of the haven is clean and clear, the black bile from the night before burned away with the dawn.

NH-01987 tips his head up toward the sky, squinting, and stares at the too-bright stretch of blue for a long, long time.

The Foxhole Court, Chapter 12 – Road Trip To Embarrass… Who Again?

In which the squad goes to a talk show, wake-up calls go wrong, Neil goes live on national television, shipping goes well, and I go nuts, just a little bit.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Foxhole Court.

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We’ll Watch The Stars


Sansa choked on her drink and sputtered, embarrassingly, as little droplets flew in the air that almost landed on Jon’s sleeve. Sansa’s hand flew to her mouth before she spewed out whatever that was still in it.

“Say what now?” Sansa asked, not really wanting Jon to repeat, as she heard him loud and clear. Jon’s cheeks burned hot as he felt a blush spread over them. Shit.

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anonymous asked:

can you do a scenario where reid gets jeaous thx

Spencer is a very logical person, so usually he can sort out his jealous feelings in a way so that they aren’t displayed outwardly. However, when it comes to you, it’s not that easy. They jumble up in his brain and tangle in his lower belly before making his heart thud faster while his breathing becomes labored. He’ll fidget with his fingers while he races through thoughts on why this is happening to him.

He knows that you’re just friends with Derek, after all; the dark skinned man was one of his best friends as well, so why was he so angry all of a sudden? He’s not sure and it makes him even angrier.

“[Y/N], would you help me with something?” Spencer asks suddenly.

When you near him, all smiles and of course willing to help the genius, he gently takes your hand before leading you out into the hallway of the B.A.U. building. He turns to find your expression riddled with confusion.

“Spence,” you start, but he cuts you off.
“Do you like Morgan?” he blurts.

His face warms afterwards and, inwardly, he groans. Why had he done that? Like he’d thought only moments before, Derek was a friend of yours and you were probably just going over an old case or something. It had been nothing for him to worry about.

But you smile at him kindly, understandingly, before giggling. This doesn’t help his fierce and building blush.

“No, Spencer,” you murmur. “I only like you.”

And then you kiss him, a little peck at first, but he deepens it because he has to feel you. He needs to sate that angry hunger that had built up at watching you be so close to someone other than him.

It’s not logical, but Spencer had figured out by now that loving you wasn’t something that he could riddle out with equations or figure out with all the books in the world.

request something here: X

Fictober Day 31--Final

If you prefer reading on AO3

If you prefer reading on ff.net

“You’re not our mom!”

The words echoed in Donald’s head hours after they’d been shouted in anger.  The argument had been over whether or not the kids could go with Scrooge on his latest adventure.  Donald had said no because the last adventure hadn’t gone so well, they were still exhausted from it, and they’d been giving him a lot of attitude recently, all of which were most likely connected.  But the kids had protested, and then Scrooge had to go and take their side, and the argument was as good as lost, though Donald wasn’t about to admit that (rule #1 of parenting: never give in to arguments about a punishment).

And then that gem had spilled out of Dewey’s mouth.

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Carl doesn’t like to beg for things. Doesn’t like to ask for anything he can’t get himself. But the hunger that twists low in his gut when Negan lowers the straight razor at last to the bathroom sink is something starved and menacing that threatens to consume him, as it always is when it comes to Negan, and he pushes himself off the doorframe. Slight movement that catches Negan’s eye in the mirror where he’s wiping excess shaving cream off his face.

They just stare at each other for a few seconds. Negan knows, he must know what Carl wants, but he just stands there, eyebrows slightly lifted, amusement twisting the corner of his mouth. When Carl draws in a breath it feels solidified into his lungs.

“I want—” He hesitates. Walks forward until he is standing at the sink, Negan turned to face him, hip cocked against the counter. Carl’s hand flutters out of its own accord like a foreign thing through the air and he watches his fingers come to rest on Negan’s smooth cheek. The skin feels dry and a little rough in places and Carl strokes his thumb over the line of the cheekbone and watches fascinated as Negan’s eyes briefly shut.

Carl’s thumb moves down to Negan’s mouth. Simple, easy gesture that sends shocks like lightning through his whole body. That hunger twisting in him, opening its mouth, ready to devour. Negan’s looking again, amber glass eyes like the sun in a beer bottle. Carl’s mind flits to the way Negan’s stubble had scraped his jaw the last time they kissed, the power in Negan’s movements, the rough virile taste of him nothing like anything Carl had ever experienced. He wonders if it would feel the same, now. If every part of kissing him would be as smooth and clean feeling as touching his face.

“Would you…” Carl swallows. He hates begging, but he hates waiting even more. “Could I…”

Negan’s skin is warm and a little wet where his lips have parted around Carl’s thumb. “C’mere,” Negan says, quiet tense needy voice, and when Carl steps forward another inch Negan lifts his hand—gently, so fucking gently—off his mouth and kisses him. Bending his body down and forward so he can reach Carl, and then lifting him up a little so as to set him on the sink. Bracketing him in with his legs and one arm, the other cradling Carl’s jaw as they both like. Kissing him with that new soft smooth warm skin rubbing against Carl’s face, the lips plush and red and bitten.

Carl reaches out, rests his hands on Negan’s ribs. It’s fucking amazing, like always, to kiss Negan, to feel that new smooth skin on his and know it belongs to him, but he was wrong about one thing. The kissing is rough, and slick and hot and messy, feeding that starved ache that’s spread through his whole body now, and Carl moans, his hips jerking forward, and it isn’t clean at all.

Simple blessings

The light filtering in through the cracks in the curtains is peach-pink and sunflower-yellow, painting the bedroom with a careful artist’s brush, everything as still as the morning itself. There is a bow resting against a red armchair, there are necklaces gathered in a bowl sparkling and glittering in the shy rays of the new day, there are silk sheets slipping off the bed on one end, like water captured in motion.


It’s quiet, the gentle hum of the city outside a comforting kind of white noise when Magnus wakes. It’s a slow thing, uninterrupted, a muse posing for a portrait that will hang adored in museums, all shadows in the lines of muscle and bone, all light against skin and veins. He sits up, letting the soft fabric slip down his naked chest, skin warm against the crisp air around him. Next comes a yawn, wide-mouthed and unashamedly human while he rubs the leftover dreams from his eyelashes.

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It starts out with a bus. The barren planes of the lonesome planet she’s recently arrived on flying past, she observes the other passengers through a critical gaze: A silent Truxican lean and slick as the sniper rifle he carries on his back, wild like the huge bird perched atop his shoulder. A thick and tall wall of a man, too gentle for his size and loudness, with fists as big as bricks. A soldier so stiff and firm, his skin the color of the dark brown mountains lounging across the horizon.

She knows, without even bothering to catch their amazed gazes, that they’re staring; she figures she would, too, if she were just a simple man who saw a powerful Siren for the first time in his life.

How wonderful, they think, awe inspiring. Beautiful like a statue emerging from the depths of marble. Fascinating and captivating like a Shahmaran. Dangerously interesting and interestingly dangerous. To their pondering gaze, she’s nothing but her enticing figure and terrifying powers, an animal behind bars, up for observation. She’s used to it by now, the hunger in people’s eyes; she can see past it into their lustful, greedy thoughts.

Yet, she remains. Despite the feeling of utter irritation, she persists. Nobody knows how lonesome it is, how she has to explore herself all by herself, how there is lack of guidance, lore.

So, she rocks along with the bus, sitting in the seat at the back and still watching the scenery for the sake of ignoring the inquisitive eyes. The dry wind caresses her hair, hiding her eyes behind red locks. She pulls them aside with a flick of her tattooed hand and breathes, deep and slow. She’s here to learn more about herself since no one seems intent on helping her out, maybe earn some money and find valuable loot, then she’ll be on her way, alone once again.

Days stretch into months, and they’re getting close to the fabled Vault, with the capital V because it’s that important and it’s that mythical. The bulky, dark-skinned soldier decides to ease his own solitude with her, and she doesn’t mind; she’s bored, and an occasional fling could work on both of their frayed nerves. The cold desert night reverberates with their pleased moans.

Turns out, there really is a Vault (multiple Vaults!), and this one comes with a disgustingly huge and ugly monster straight out of some long lost mythology. The fight is easy, the loot more than adequate, but she still can’t sate her hunger for knowledge with whatever the Vault has spewed and sputtered on them.

The soldier suggests a trip to Pandora’s moon, Elpis. She laughs, not that she finds his offer funny; she’s simply entertained by the idea of Hope existing so close to Pandora. Life is full of lies and shitty mythological references, she decides, and accepts his offer. Maybe Elpis can offer her the rumors and hope she needs.

Their little vacation is fun, the sex more than adequate, but she finds herself wrapped in ennui instead of the soldier’s sleek ebony arms.

Then there’s another chance to sate her insatiable curiosity, in the form of a gangly nerd of a man going by an everyman’s name, begging for their help as he’s stranded on the space station revolving around the moon revolving around a planet; Helios, the wondrously bright progeny of Hyperion.

She doesn’t mind, despite the ravenous inspection the programmer gives her, despite the feeling of something unholy and unwanted hanging in the air whenever they exist in the same room. She does mind, but she doesn’t care. She stopped caring long ago, bullied one too many times to find it in her calloused heart to notice the signs.

It’s all fun and games until the bossy programmer decides to throw a bunch of innocent scientists out the airlock right in front of her eyes. She realizes this was never about her self-exploration, that she was just a tool in the programmer’s finely-weaved con; so she decides to play double-agent along with the soldier from then on, working with the programmer’s ex. Her intentions seem no more real than her gracious bosom, but at least she doesn’t seem like a sociopath.

Their plan is simple. Her part in it is not. As she slips through the portal and into the Vault, she’s struck with the feeling of déjà vu; the colors are off, so are the Vault Hunters around her, but the gaze is the same. The loneliness is the same.

The electricity in the air, the gentle hum of the inside of the Vault kisses her hair that is seemingly aflame in the violet hues. She tugs it aside with a flick of her tattooed hand and breathes deep and slow. She struts forward with confidence in her quick steps, going unnoticed by the hysterical man lounging in his stony throne.

She smiles a sultry, pleased smile.

She throws a punch, her fist strong and sturdy.

There blooms a supernova of light and fire; the painful screams of the scarred man are only enjoyable for a short while, as she has to flee. That was the plan, after all. Once again, she’s alone, bereft of any knowledge she deserves to fondle.

She runs. There’s a madman after her and she has nobody to seek help in. She’s used to it by now, the mistrust people have in such a dangerously violent woman like her; she can see past it into their frightened, biased thoughts.

Bandits swarm her, worshipping her like a fearsome god of a forgotten religion. They call her the Firehawk, forming cult after cult after her name and burning themselves to crisp piles of bodies as sacrifice. Nobody knows who she is, but then again, she doesn’t know who she is, either.

Who are you?


What a frigid bitch.


How much do you think a night with that tattooed chick would cost?


A Siren? They don’t exist.

When she sheds the dark cloak of her Firehawk persona, it’s a great shock to many; but Ouranos in the golden crown remains calm and cool, never a good sign for a trigger happy tyrant.

He knows, just like she does.

They call her the Firehawk. She calls herself the Phoenix, reborn from her ashes, sacred like the Bennu of the sunny lands, and her comeback is just as grand.

Ouranos tests her patience, hunting after people who were seemingly close to her. She lets flames of fury consume her, only making her stronger; she’s not angry because of the Truxican’s dead bird or the brick wall of a man’s lost town. She was always alone under people’s observant gaze- because of mistrust, because of fear, because of underestimation. She doesn’t care about these people who killed and stole along with her, but she cares about the man trying to steal her spotlight.

Throughout the years, she learned to twist that hungry gaze to her own liking, letting it inflate her ego.

The way he murders the soldier stings a little, if she’s being honest with herself. She guesses the sudden shock that seizes her comes from the shared time she has (had) with him compared to the others.

What a mistake.

Ouranos chains the Phoenix like a wild animal, controlling her powers to his liking. But she’s not afraid, she knows her limits and her abilities. A lifelong solitude has ultimately made her depend only and only on herself; they can push her down, but they can’t keep her subdued.

She plays the Vault Hunters like Ouranos once did, a virtuoso pulling at all the right strings. Despite the chains weighing her down, she struggles, his voracious gaze never once leaving her.

They weaken him, making him run around while throwing weak threats. He summons his very own Cerberus, and it fits the hellish scenery. They slay it, opening the gates of the metaphorical underworld that is the Vault. She watches, this time her hungry gaze sweeping on others- what a magnificent change.

She scrutinizes him, her curious eyes settling upon the fallen god still screaming bloody murder. As she approaches him, slow as a prowling tiger, the others are watching her watching him.

Just like the first time she confronted him in a Vault in front of a group of Vault Hunters, she faces the man with a sultry smile on her cracked and swollen lips. Her tattooed hand frees her eyes from the curtain of crimson locks draping over them. She pulls back, widening and securing her stance. Ouranos sways on his sneakered feet, fresh blood bubbling from his downturned lips.

She throws a punch, her fist strong and sturdy. He goes down, painful death looking smooth and easy. She looks down on the crumpled body of the fallen god, and she smiles a genuine smile.

The first woman who is equal to those around her, who became the subject of the hungry gaze, whom people hoped to subjugate. The woman who refused to bow to the imperious, who survived on her own, who was powerful to take on the universe.

Her name is Lilith, and she is the most powerful siren in the universe.

when i look away (ch 1/2)

words:  2.5k
summary: When Adrien Agreste meets a beautiful young woman named Marinette Dupain-Cheng on his train to Paris, sparks fly almost immediately, and they wind up spending an entire day together in Vienna, although they know the chances are high that they will never see each other again. (A Before Sunrise AU!)

a/n: Merry Christmas, @knowleeraven! I was your SS for @mlsecretsanta! Sorry this is so late- hopefully it’s still Christmas where you are! This story is a no powers adrienette au with a ladynoir dynamic, and the title was inspired by my favorite line from the film Before Sunrise: “I like to feel his eyes on me when I look away,” which I have also incorporated into my telling of the story. I hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3

Adrien absently runs his fingers through his air as he looks out the train window, tousling it into the messy, untidy style that he knows his father hates. Only 14 hours remain until he has to hop on a plane back from Paris to New York and return to his rigidly structured life as the director-in-training of Gabriel’s North American expansion.

If he’s honest with himself, there’s nothing he would rather do but stay behind and extend the freewheeling, nomadic holiday he’s had for the past two weeks. But the weight of family and professional obligations are stronger than the siren call of freedom, and so Adrien will go back.

For now, though, he revels in the limited time he has on the train from Budapest to Paris, eavesdropping on the other conversations in the dining car and creating elaborate backstories for the strangers sitting across from each other at the other tables, knees pressed together as they engage in fervent, muted chatter, unaware that anyone else is listening to their private conversations.

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anonymous asked:

Lams hunger games au!

Okay, so I had this half way answered and then I had to go do something, and I thought I saved it, but I didn’t. So I’m really sorry to have delayed this!!

• So John is from district 9, agriculture. He won last years hunger games and is now a teacher/coach person.
• Alex is a tribute this year from district 4, fishing. He’s always speaking out against Peace Keepers and the Capital.
• When John first sees Alex, he sees this mouthy skinny kid who he thinks that his tributes could take out easily.
• He watches Alex train for awhile and starts to rethink how easy this kid would be to take out, and his face looks nice and he’s actually kind of charming in the way he speaks sometimes and John is really confused.
• So John approaches Alex and they talk and become friends even though they probably shouldn’t get attached
• They start to develop feelings, but they don’t tell each other (and yes, I’m down for this being cheesy as hell)
• And then it’s the night before Alex goes into the arena and he’s talking to Caesar Flickermen and he’s being all charming and talking about how he likes to write
• And then Caesar is all like “ A charming lad like you has to have a special someone” and Alex kind of blushes and Johns all like ¿?what¿?
• So Alex answers truthfully, that he doesn’t, but he did meet someone here, but it probably won’t happen and he wouldn’t want to start now cause he might not make it.
• So Caesar makes this sad face and the crowd whines and John is like, I’m the only one he talks to, is it me? Probably not, nvm.
• So Alex and John just watch the rest of interviews in silence and everything’s just so sad.
• And then it’s the day of the hunger games, so John goes to go see Alex off and Alex is having a panic attack and John calms him down and says “whenever you feel freaked out, just think of me” and Alex nods and they hug until Alex is being ushered alway
• And then Johns impulse control just breaks. He leans forward and kisses Alex for a split second before Alex has to go.
• And then Alex is in the arena, and John is watching him go and he sends him notes and things, even though he’s not really supposed to.
• And then it’s just Alex and this other person, and Alex is shaking. And then in a blur, it’s over. He’s won.
• He goes back to the capital. He sees John, and then they’re kissing each other on national tv and everything is okay, he’s okay, Johns okay.
• And then after the victor tour, him and John join the resistance.
• And together, they defeat the capital and live happy together (minus the nightmares that the hunger games would cause).

I hope that you like it!!

**Send me aus and ships and I’ll tell you my headcanons**

Just Sorry? A Mini Series (Chapter 3/??)

Warning: This chapter contains mild smut. Following chapters will contain Smut, Angst, Explicit Language, Daddy Kink, Rough Sex

Previous Chapter: 2

Word Count: 2141

“Okay so, a meeting on Monday, dinner party on Tuesday, graduation speech on Wednesday…” Natalie continued to give Jaebum an overview of what next week’s schedule was going to be but the other wasn’t registering a thing the woman said. All morning his head had been spinning as he tried to figure out what had him constantly thinking about you? Catching feelings for a woman was certainly not on his life agenda and he needed to gain control of it before things became to hectic.

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