hi ears music

“Don’t bother,” he replies grimly, “I said I wasn’t interested in this. If we fucked, sorry for leading you on, if we didn’t, I don’t know why you’d want to be associated with me anyways.” And Harry wants this conversation to end right there, now that he’s said his piece, so he looks back towards Y/N and says, “These are organic grapes, no?”

The girl gets the hint, leaving with a huff and Y/N tuts her tongue at him.

“You’re so mean, Harry! What if she really liked you?”

Harry shakes his head, “She liked my cock not me.” He says apathetically, and Y/N’s face turns towards sheepish like it always does when the mere mention of his escapades comes to head (which it doesn’t often, but he knows Y/N has ears and she hears things), “‘sides, she was rude to you. I don’t like that.” He straightens out, “Did you take your medicine?”

or

Harry doesn’t really like people, but he likes Y/N

Keep reading

Eurydice, Eat Your Heart Out (Adrino Percy Jackson AU)

In the dark of Cabin 10, staring up at the roof of his bunk, Adrien could hear the distant plucking of a harp as waves lapped lazily against the shoreline.

All things considered, it wasn’t surprising that he was having trouble sleeping; less than twenty-four hours earlier his father’s limo was nearly destroyed by a rampaging Cyclops that the middle-aged fashion mogul dispatched with a quick flick of a sword he drew from seemingly nowhere. From there, it was somewhat of a blur of packing, private jet rides, and clandestine car trips to the sunny shores of Long Island, New York, a silver pen containing the only means of protection he had in case other monsters attacked.

Monsters.

He could still scarcely believe it. If someone had told him that he was the product of an affair between his mother and the Greco-Roman goddess of love and beauty a few days ago, he would have been dialing Gorilla’s number as quickly as he could while backing away from them. Now, surrounded by dozens of half-siblings he never knew existed, Adrien didn’t quite know what to make of his current situation. He still thought he was going to wake up, home in Paris, and the whole thing would have been just a fever dream brought on by bad cheese; the attack, the journey, the music-

Sitting up in bed, Adrien strained his ears over the snoring of his bunkmate to hear the almost aimless melody that meandered its way across the waves. It was a song that sounded so familiar; like the chorus to something he had heard on the radio years ago. It couldnt’ve been coming from far, judging by the way it cut through the sound of twenty-five teenagers’ beauty sleep, so, clutching his pen and carrying his sneakers, Adrien tip-toed towards the door as quietly as possible, stepping out into the warm Long Island night.

Keep reading

Chantaje - Mieczysław Stilinski Smut

REQUESTED: No, I just haven’t written for a while, and I wanted to do something for you guys!

WARNINGS: Hickeys, fingering, blowjob

SUMMARY: When you run into Stiles at a club, your past comes out. It takes a further encounter in the bathroom for you to both be okay again.

NOTES: I’ve listened to this song too many times, and it’s becoming problematic.

AAAAAnyways, SMUT YAY! (I miss writing smut. I haven’t had the motivation since my birthday because a lot’s happened.)

Hope you enjoy! Based off this song (and there will be translations of the lyrics too dw <3)

Originally posted by readersleepingintheforest

Keep reading

Letters For You

Pairing: Popular!Y/N/!Nerd!Michael

Rating: All

Request: No

Words: 3.000+

Summary: Michael’s seat in French class is situated right by the door giving him the chance to see the popular girl Y/N sitting in the other classroom across from the hall. He is shy and doesn’t know how to express his words so he does by secretly putting love notes into her locker.

Keep reading

Illusion (Lance Tucker x Reader) part two

Part Two

 i’m so sorry it’s really late i’m sorry. IT’S BEEN A CRAZY WEEK, PLUS AS I’M POSTING THIS I REMEMBER I HAVE AN AUDITION FOR HEATHERS THE MUSICAL TOMORROW AND I WANNA DIE OH MY GOD IM TERRIFIED. 

Warnings: NONE, Swearing? Shirtless Lance?

If you haven’t seen part one, here it is :) 

https://fuckmesebby.tumblr.com/post/159632355355/illusion-lance-tucker-x-reader


“Are you almost done?” Lance laid on your bed with his hands behind his head as you finished packing some stuff.

“Yeah give me five seconds.” You popped your head out of your closet before returning to folding the last of your clothes.

“You said that 10 minutes ago, we are going to miss the flight.”

“Stop nagging, you sound like my mother.” You zipped up your suitcase and brought it out into your bedroom. “Ok I’m done.”

“Finally.” Lance stood up. “Your bed is really comfortable Y/N. Should we get back into it?”

“I really hate you, you know that right?”

“Don’t kid yourself, you don’t hate me.” Lance smiled and walked out of your bedroom. You brought your suitcase out to Lance’s car. He opened the trunk and you put it in before walking to the passenger door and getting in. Lance’s black Cadillac was ridiculous but, it screamed Lance. Lance closed the driver’s door and turned on his car. The engine purred to life and the radio started playing. Lance had a playlist playing and the song Promiscuous by Nelly Furtado started blasting through the speakers.

“You listen to this?” You were holding back a laugh.

“Fuck you it’s a good song.” Lance looked over before backing out of your parking lot and heading down the road towards the highway.

The song continued to play and you found yourself singing along quietly. Lace would glance over to you every now and again when you’d say certain phrases. The next song to play was Starboy by The Weeknd

“You know, your playlist is very douchey, but It’s not bad.”

“Thank you? I’ve never had someone say my playlist is douchey but there’s a first for everything.”

You guys arrived at the airport and check in, sending your large suitcases on the way before heading over to the ridiculous line for security. The line took 45 minutes alone to get to the metal detectors. After an eternity and a half, you found your gate and set your stuff on a chair before plopping down.

“Do you want anything? I’m going to walk around and see what’s good.”

“If there is a Starbucks, I’ll take coffee.”

“Anything else?”

“If you stumble upon food, I won’t object.”

“Ok, I’ll brb.”

Lance walked off somewhere and you pulled out your phone, sending your mother a text that you were at the airport and what time your flight should land. She responded with an ok, and that she will have someone pick you up at the airport. You closed out your messages and put in your headphones. You played some music and put your feet up onto the chair, leaned your head on your hand, which rested on the arm rest. You closed your eyes and relaxed a bit, since you knew that you wouldn’t be getting much relaxation next 4 days. After a few minutes, you felt Lance’s presence return. You opened your eyes and saw he had a coffee extended towards you.

“Thanks.” You grabbed the cup and took a drink.

“No problem.” Lance looked over his shoulder towards the restaurant. “I forgot about food, but I saw the fucking hottest chick, I wish I could find a closet somewhere and invite her.”

You rolled your eyes and drank your coffee. “You’re ridiculous.” Lance had no response, except for the side look he gave you before drinking his own coffee.

The flight began boarding an hour later, once you guys found your seat you made yourself comfortable again, or at least as comfortable as you could on an airplane. It was 6am, so the plane was fairly packed for being an early 4th of July weekend flight. It had been a while since you’ve flown, so you were thankful that you wore shorts and a tank top, unlike Lance who was in dark jeans and a white t shirt.

30 minutes after taking your seats, the plane was finally moving towards the runway to take off. You pulled out a pack of gum to chew so your ears wouldn’t pop.

“Do you want gum?” You looked over to Lance while putting your piece of gum in your mouth.

“Sure.”

The plane lifted and took to the sky while you watched Los Angeles’ skyline become smaller and smaller in the sunrise. Once the light became too much you closed the blind and pulled out the book you had been reading. Lance took out his phone and headphones, putting them in his ears before playing music, he closed his eyes and crossed his arms.

You had made it about 2 more chapter into your book when Lance’s head fell onto your shoulder. You looked over and saw that he was fast asleep. You decided not to shrug him off, since he was going to have hell to deal with back home. You hadn’t made it past the end of the chapter before you had also dozed off.

You awoke to someone grabbing your thigh and shaking it slightly. You opened your eyes and were immediately met with Lance’s blue ones.

“Hey we just landed.”

You stretched and let out a yawn before gathering your stuff.

Your mother had promised someone would be at the airport to pick you up, but you didn’t imagine it would be a chauffeur. You exchanged glances with Lance before following the man to the car he had parked outside. It was warm on the east coast, but wasn’t nearly as warm as California. The ride to your mother’s was a short one, she lived in a suburb only 5 miles away from the airport. You had never been to this house, since your mom had only lived here for a year.

The house was ridiculously large, there was a half circle driveway in the front with, of course, a fountain in the middle. The car came to a stop before the door was opened for you and Lance.

“Well, here were go.” You looked at Lance and he winked down at you before grabbing your hand and intertwining it with his. The two of you walked towards the front door and you grabbed the handle opening it. The foyer was empty but there were 4th of July decorations up.

“MOM?” You called out, before walking out of Lance’s grasp and looking towards the kitchen.

“Y/N, You’re here already?!” Your mother’s voice rang out from upstairs. You turned around and looked at the woman walking down the stairs. You walked towards her and she brought you into a hug. Once you guys separated, she held you at arm’s length, giving you a look up and down. “You’re getting way too skinny sweetheart. We need to make sure you eat this weekend.”

“Mom, I have to be in shape for trials next week.”

“I’m still making sure you eat, screw your diet.”

“Mom, this is Lance. You guys have met before, but he,” You took a second before finishing your sentence, the words coming out so foreign. “is my boyfriend.” You walked closer to Lance and grabbed his arm. He looked down and you, slightly shocked by the contact. “Lance this is my mother, Y/M/N.”

“Oh yeah, aren’t you Y/N’s coach?”

Lance nodded, and looked at you. “Uh, yep. It’s great to finally meet you. Or officially meet you, should I say.”

“Leave it up to my daughter to get herself an older man, and her coach, of course.” Your mother rolled her eyes and motioned between Lance and you. You shifted where you stood and shot her a look. “You two must be exhausted, let me show you to where you’ll be staying.” Your mother turned around and headed back up the stairs. You look up at Lance and clenched your jaw before signaling your eyes towards your mother. Lance chuckled under his breath before putting a finger gun towards his head and pretending to shoot it.

You started up the stairs and followed your mother up towards a bedroom, she opened the door and lead you guys in.

“Hopefully this will be fine? There was bathroom through that door there.”

“Yeah it’s fine thanks mom.”

“Ok well I’ll leave you guys to get comfortable, I had Andrew bring your stuff up while we were talking, your suitcases are in the closet, over there.” Your mother walked past and closed the door after she stepped into the hallway. You walked over to the bed and fell onto it.

“She’s even more insufferable that I remember.” You laid your arm over your face. “How the fuck will we survive?”

“Jesus Y/N, When you said she was bad, I did not think she’d be this bad. Jesus fucking Christ. I want to leave, already.”

“No you don’t” You sat up and pointed towards Lance. “We are in this together now mister. The only thing that can give us solace is the fact that there will be so much alcohol in this house this weekend.”

“Now, that is something I can look forward to.”

Lance jumped on the bed next to you and laid on his stomach, burying his face into the blanket to let out a yell.

“Did I ever mention, I just fucking hate parents. I’ve had to meet so fucking many, and I hate, all of them. Parents fucking suck.” Lance sighed in frustration before standing up and walking towards his suitcase. “I’m going to take a shower.” Lance walked into the bathroom and turned on the light. “You’re more than welcome to join.”

“Ew, no what the fuck.”

“Your loss.” Lance closed the door and turned on the shower. You rolled over on the bed and closed your eyes. You hadn’t planned on falling asleep, you just wanted to rest for a second.

When Lance come out of the bathroom in gray sweatpants and no shirt on, he was running a towel through his hair. He looked over and saw you sleeping in your clothes, as if you just knocked out. Lance threw the towel over the chair and walked over to you. He went to your converse and untied them, before sliding them off your feet and setting them next to the chair before walking back over.

“Hey, Y/N Here,” Lance grabbed the blanket from underneath you. “Let me put this blanket on you.” You shifted in your sleep, gaining enough consciousness to help get yourself tucked in before rolling over and completely passing out again. Lance walked to the other side of the bed, sliding under the blanket and taking another look at you before turning his back to you and closing his eyes.

You woke up to the setting sun hitting your face from the window. You rubbed your eyes before reaching down into your pocket, grabbing your phone. It was 15 minutes to 6, and the party was at 6:30, luckily you didn’t plan on dressing up too much. You looked to your right, finding Lance, still sleeping. He was laying on his stomach with his arms under the pillow, face towards you. You suddenly remembered that he helped you under the blanket on the bed. Lance was always cocky in LA while he was in his element, but you were really hoping that he’d let his walls down and show a softer side the next 4 days.

You took the blankets off you and stretched, Lance stirred and opened his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Almost 6. The party is at 6:30.”

“I don’t wanna go to the party.”

You stood and walked over to your suitcase and grabbed the dress that you planned on wearing, and the sandals. You walked into the bathroom and stripped yourself of you clothes and stepped into the dress. You opened the door to Lance, standing in a white button up shirt, wide open, and his grey sweatpants still. He was looking down when you emerged, not catching the look of surprise on your face, a warmth growing in your lower belly. You shook it off and cleared your throat.

“Can you zip this for me?”

“Uh, yeah.”

You walked over to Lance and turned around. He grabbed the zipper, pulling it up slowly, his fingers brushing against you slightly leaving chills up your spine at the lost contact.

“They you go.” He put his hands on your shoulders, giving them a small squeeze. You ran you hand through your hair and went back into the bathroom to put on some light makeup and lipstick. You grabbed your shoes and walked back into the bedroom towards the bed to put your shoes on.  Lance was wearing grey pants, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, the top buttons on his shirt, un done.

“I’m so proud of you, you’re not wearing red, white, and blue, or a track suit. I’m so proud.”

“You’re so funny. You know me, I like to kiss ass and make parents like me.”

“I really doubt my mother will like you, or me, or anyone but this fake life she lives.”

“Wanna bet? 100 bucks says I can make her like me.”

“You’re on.” You shook his hands while laughing and finished getting ready.

You were sitting down at one of the many tables in the backyard, drinking a glass of champagne when you felt the chair next to you move, and Lance sit down next to you.

“These people aren’t taking the bait.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Maybe they see through your bullshit.”

“But that’s not possible, I’m really good.”

You stood up, still laughing at the desperation in Lance’s voice. “Well, you can keep trying I’m going to find something stronger.” You motioned towards your glass before walking away and heading back into the empty house. There was a full bar lining the counters, with ending possibilities of mixed drinks. You decided to make yourself a jack and coke. You walked over towards the living area to look at the pictures on the fire place. There were some of Mark’s children and he and mom. Then in the middle, was a picture of you at your first Olympic Game. You were 16 and it was the same year you messed up your hamstring.

“I still remember when you won.” Mark walked up next to you and put an arm around your shoulder, kissing the top of your head. “I felt so bad that I could see you earlier kiddo.”

“It’s ok, I was tired anyways. Plus, I knew I would see you tonight.” You smiled up at him.

“When is your next competition? I want to try and get off work.”

“Um in 4 weeks is the Games, next week is trials so hopefully I’ll qualify and then I’m back to Toronto.”

“You’ll do great. I’ll even get your mother to come around.”

“Thanks Mark.” You leaned into his side hug and he squeezed your arm before walked back towards the kitchen. “Hey Lance, you treat this one well, she is amazing. Don’t hurt her.”

“She really is great.”

You kept your back towards the men, but smiled at the compliment. You heard Mark leave the room and Lance walked up next to you with a glass.

“So, does everybody love you yet?”

“No. I don’t get it; the east coast is fucked.”

You laughed and took a drink. “I’m sorry your ego is deflating.”

Lance just sighed and chugged the rest of his drink.

“Do you want another drink?”

“Yeah. Thanks” You downed your drink and handed him the glass.

“Anything specific?”

“No, not really.”

Lance walked over to the bar and you followed.

“I really don’t want to go back outside.”

“Let’s just explore.”

“I’m pretty sure there is like a movie theater down stairs. We can just watch some shitty movie and get fucking wasted.”  

“Let’s find it.”

Lance handed you the drink and he grabbed another bottle before you guys went to find the basement door. You found the door and went downstairs. There was a bunch of couches and chairs with a large screen and a wall of movies.

“So, I say we just close our eyes and pick a random one?” Lance suggested standing in front of the large shelf.

“Sure.” You walked over and pointed to a random disc. Lance grabbed it and took it off the shelf. The movie as called ‘The Covenant’.

“Well this looks god awful.”

“Yeah I’m sure there will be enough drink worthy moments.”

Lance put the disc in and you took off your shoes, sitting down and grabbing a blanket putting it on your legs. Lance took a seat by you and grabbed the bottle of Tequila. The movie was truly god awful and before you were even 20 minutes in you were already slightly drunk. Lance and you just made joke and talked shit about the whole movie. The worse character in the movie was the villain Chase, it was laughable and you found yourself just rolling your eyes and drinking whenever the movie became ridiculous.

Lance and you made it about halfway through the movie before you both knocked out. The movie playing out until the end as you guys slept.

TAG LIST 

@magellan-88 @sound-the-siren @lancefuckrr  @the-locket-around-your-throat @myuncontrollabletomobsession @stevnsbucks @ashley-jean-summers @theariel85

Just the way you are!

Originally posted by malachaisangel


Her eyes, Her eyes                                                                                                                         makes the star look like they’re not shining                                                                    Her hair, Her hair                                                                                                            Falls perfectly without her trying                                                                                   She’s so beautiful, and I tell her every day 

 ~

Klaus watched as you fiddled with your finger, avoiding eye contact. Your gaze traveled everywhere, from the beautiful sunset to the glowing city below the hills. You were nervous, this was not your first date with Klaus. Actually, you’ve had many over the years but every time, it was like your first, he had this effect on you. 

Finally, your eyes locked with his and you were mesmerized. Klaus fell deep into your eyes, he loved the way your eyes sparkle full of life, the way your eyes light up when you discover something new, your eyes alone can light up his life brighter than the stars that light up the universe. The (E/C)ness of your eyes makes him melt like a puddle something he never felt before. 

His eyes followed your hands as they held a lock of your hair before pushing it behind your ear. But almost instantly it fell right back to where it was originally placed making you grown in displeasure.  He couldn’t help but chuckle at how cute you were. His deep chuckle made you blush, as the tiny bit of pink spread across your cheeks. 

“you’re beautiful you know that right” Klaus mumbled taking a hold of your chin making you look into his eyes. 

~

I know, I know                                                                                                        When I compliment her she won’t believe me, and                                       It’s so, It’s so                                                                                                                 Sad to think, she don’t see what I see                                                                                               But every time she asks me “if I look ok?” I say 

~

You smiled knowing he would always say that to you just to see you smile 

“you always say that, and you know I always disagree” you mumbled 

“I know love but as long as you disagree I’m going to keep telling you until you realize how beautiful you truly are” he whispered in your ear making shivers run right down your spine 

“I honestly don’t see what you see in me” you sighed looking down 

“I see the world in you love, you are my world. Full of wonders and beauty”        

“I-Uh, you always seem to leave me speechless”     

Klaus smiled a victorious smile as you blushed darker from his previous complement, He couldn't help but think back to a few hours ago when you were getting ready for the date.

he watched as you put the small amount of makeup, which only consisted of mascara and eyeliner. You turned around to him with a smile and looked down shyly fixing up your outfit.

“Do I look okay?”

Klaus looked you up and down savoring every bit of this moment. You were wearing a white floral dress with black flats. He couldn’t help but notice the way the dress clings onto your curves making him groan in satisfaction, You were beautiful and he felt lucky to have someone like you as his own. 

~

When I see your face,                                                                                                 There’s not a thing that I would change,                                                                 cause you’re amazing just the way you are.                                                            And when you smile,                                                                                           The whole world stops and stares for awhile,                                                                      Cause girl you’re amazing just the way you are

~

“you know even the little amount of makeup you wear is not needed, you look beautiful without it too love. You don’t just look okay, you look gorgeous baby girl. Every time I look at you I know there is nothing I would ever change about you, cause you are perfect to me and I could never ask for more”

Klaus stepped towards your blushing figure and placed a kiss on your soft and warm lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck smiling into the kiss. Like always when you kissed him you felt fireworks.          

Klaus smiled at the memory that took place a few hours ago. Every time he hears your name he can’t help but smile thinking how beautiful you are on the inside and out. 

It was getting dark and stars started to light up the sky.

You looked up and the stars twinkled in your eyes, he always knew your eyes shined brighter than the stars but watching them at this moment left him awestruck.

“aren’t they beautiful” (Y/N) asked 

“indeed they are”

“They always seem to light up the sky no matter the weather, they are so beautiful. I love watching the stars I feel connected to the earth, I don’t really know why. They turn darkness into light. You can always count on the stars to light up the world in darkness" 

"You know love, you’re the star in my life. You always seemed to bring out the light in me when I’m with you. You’re the light in my dark world”

“Don’t say that Klaus, there was always light in you, you just needed help finding it”

“It seems like you’re the right girl to help me reach the light love. No one can ever replace you, you are the most beautiful girl I ever knew in my entire lifetime. I love you (Y/N)”

“Don’t say such things to me, it makes me embarrassed,” you said looking down blushing

~

Her lips, Her lips                                                                                                           I could kiss them all day if she let me,                                                               Her laugh, Her laugh                                                                                             She hates, but I think it’s so sexy,                                                                              She’s so beautiful and I tell her every day 

~

Klaus reached over pinning you down on the blanket from the small picnic earlier. 

“you know everytime you blush, it makes you even cuter and I just can’t resist you, love” he growled into your ear 

This caused a total hysteria of butterflies in your stomach. Klaus slowly leaned down touching his warm lips with your own, the feeling was indescribable, it was pure bliss. You felt as if the world didn’t matter anymore, all that mattered at this moment was Klaus and you. 

Klaus nibbled at your lips asking for entrance which you gladly accepted, his tongue darted into your mouth exploring your wet cavern. The mini battle of dominance was won by none other than Klaus. 

You both pulled away in need of oxygen. Your face was flushed, blood was rushing around so fast and you can hear your heart beating rapidly as Klaus’s lips traveled their way down to your neck. He was nibbling and sucking on your sweet spot making you groan in pleasure. 

You were 100 percent sure there was going to be love bite on your neck the next morning but you didn’t care. The love Klaus was showing you right now was all that mattered to you. 

Klaus loved the way you were so vulnerable with him, the way your lips tasted like strawberry and chocolate and the feeling of your soft locks as they tangled themselves into his fingers. The way your delicate body fits with his, and how your small fragile fingers played with his hair. He loved everything about you. You gave him immeasurable pleasure. The pleasure you both felt day in and day out.

Klaus’s hand traveled to your side and wondered towards your ticklish part. You began to protest knowing you would laugh like a mad woman and you hated it. But Klaus refused to listen. He started tickling your sides, you were a giggling mess and those giggles turned into full blown laughter as he kept tickling. 

“K-k-k-kl-klu-Klaus pl-p-ple-please s-s-sto-stop” you breathed through your laughter 

Klaus admired the way you looked so carefree and delicate when you were beneath him, laughing like nothing mattered. The sweet melody of your voice rang through his ears like music, he can’t help but want to hear more and more of this infectious tune. 

~

Oh you know, you know, you know                                                                          I’d never ask you to change,                                                                                         If perfect’s what you’re searching for then just stay the same,                           So don’t even bother asking if I look okay                                                              You’ll know I’ll say 

~

Suddenly Klaus just stopped and stared at you. 

“Uh are you okay, is something wrong" 

"no, no, I just can’t get over how beautiful you are and how in the world did I get a girl so perfect and down to earth like you to be my girl”

“I’m not perfect and definitely not what you think of me, but I do know you’re worth my time and I love you wholeheartedly Klaus Mikaelson. and to answer the question of how you got me, it’s simple I saw the light in you”

“You always seem to amaze me, no matter how evil they are you always see the light in them, you have such a pure heart that I’m scared I might ruin it”

“Don’t be silly, you could never do that to me, as long as you’re with me, I  know nothing can hurt me, not even you”

“You know love, you are perfect the way you are, I would never what you to change no matter how many times I tell you this, its the truth. I love this woman I see in front of me and I will love you always and forever”

“I love you to Klaus Mikaelson”

You both leaned in for a small kiss while smiling. It was perfect, sitting under the stars, as the wind softly rubbed against your skin and the sounds of nature played a song. You were both lying on the blanket holding hands as you lay on his chest listening to his calming heartbeat while watching the stars. The night was Perfect, just like the both of you.                

~

When I see your face,                                                                                    There’s not a thing that I would change,                                                                  cause you’re amazing just the way you are.                                                            And when you smile,                                                                                           The whole world stops and stares for awhile,                                                                      Cause girl you’re amazing just the way you are

~

Their Story

**NOT MY GIF**

Bucky Barnes X Reader

A/N: This is my entry for @hunters-from-stark-tower ‘s 3k Movie AU challenge. Follows Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge pretty closely, save some parts. (Note: there are quotes in this that do not belong to me)

Words: approx. 3.4k

Prompt: Moulin Rouge AU

Warnings: kissing, bad writing, death

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Montmartre

The click click click of the man’s fingers upon the keys of the typewriter fill the air with a sense of melancholy.

This man, he does not remember happiness. Only emptiness.

His love’s lips had been cold when he’d last kissed her. Cold. So cold. The taste of blood filling his mouth with its iron tang. Her eyes had been so lifeless, staring into empty chaos.

He remembered pleading for her to come back to him. She hadn’t listened.

And now he sits, a lonely man in a lonely land, telling a story of a lost love and a lost hope that no one will hear.

This my friends is the story of James Buchanan Barnes. The man who’s one aspiration is to teach a lesson of love:

The greatest thing
You’ll ever learn
Is just to love
And be loved.
…in return

~~~

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I'm sitting here, thinking that the last time that Louis acknowledged the child was Jan 29 (Twitter). 3 months. And I have to check but if I'm not wrong he spent less than a month in LA if you add up all the times he went there. Even if he hadn't formal obligations in UK (or Jamaica). He even went from UK to Miami and then to UK. Idk where to find a timeline but the point is THIS IS THE KIND OF FATHER THAT ANTIS WORSHIP, and this is so wrong man.

Mhmm… They truly don’t give a fuck about this kid or how bad this situation is as long as Louis is “straight” and isn’t with Harry

Cadillacs and Cherry Stems

Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: Absolute writer’s block, but I still managed to churn it out! Requests are always welcome. Just message me. Lol, love y’all❣️ .xx ~ Ryn

Words: 2,722

Warnings: None, other than insecure Pete (aww ): )

You didn’t notice the way he looked at you. 

When you were lost in class, inking blue pen into your hand, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you because your concentration was so alluring – you were oblivious. Or when he took the long way home, trading 25 minutes for a mere three seconds of catching your eyes looking back at his – you had no clue. Peter Parker was entranced by you – your quirkiness, your intelligence, and he wanted nothing more than to say just one word to you – at least one. He wanted more than those three seconds every day; he wanted to wave, or smile, or talk, or get lost in eternal conversation. He wanted to know what your favorite food was, and he wanted to ask you what songs were always drumming through that head of yours. He wanted to know what your hair smelled like, and why you never paid any thought in English class. Above all, he wanted you to want to know him, too. It was crazy, mad even, but he was desperate. And his desperation was killing him. He couldn’t say anything to you, though, because he was just him, and genius or not, you deep-fried his brain. He may be Spider-Man, but without that mask, it was all just a facade. He couldn’t be witty or courageous. Without the red and blue to camouflage his self-doubt and insecurities, he was just Peter Parker, and no amount of superhuman strength would change that. So he kept walking the extra mile and three quarters just for three seconds – end of story. That was until the day the sirens rang like a deafening blast through his heightened ears, and he stopped watching where he was going, and you, too, were deafening yourself with the consistent beat of your music. The collateral reaction came like a flash of light, because the same three seconds he lived for became the three seconds in which your story began. You crashed like two bullets, cherry red coating your clothes. 

“O-oh my gosh. Are you okay? I-I’m so sorry…” Peter felt like he’d been struck by lighting, because you were doing that thing you always did to him just by walking on the same side walk. This was not how he had planned on meeting you. 

“I’m fine.” You had had it with the world today. Now wearing your milkshake, you were starting to convince yourself of life’s boundless ability to wreak havoc on you. Peter, at this time, was also convincing himself of this very same thing, but with more emphasis on blaming himself. 

“Really, it’s my fault. I-I got distracted… stupid…” He started mumbling to himself, and a kind of guilt washed over you, as you looked up at his contemplating face. You placed a reassuring hand on Peter’s shoulder, and gave your best attempt at making a friend,

“It’s okay, Peter. I was pretty distracted, too.” His head snapped up at his name leaving your lips – a name he was sure you didn’t know. 

“Y-you know my name?” He looked like a blubbering fish out of water, and the naivety running around in his eyes made an unfamiliar feeling bubble up in your gut. A small smile tempted to form on your mouth, and suddenly you’d forgotten all about your sticky clothes and abhorrent day. 

“Duh. We’re in like, what, four classes together, and you’re kind of like the school Einstein… You’re hard not to notice.” You suddenly felt awkward, as you noticed your hand still lingering on Peter’s shoulder, and he surely did, too. His heart was about to burst, and if he wasn’t an ace at keeping his cool before, he surely wasn’t now. 

“W-wow, um, yeah… Okay, so uh, okay.” He managed to cough out before forming a small coherent sentence.

“Well, there’s, uh, not much I can do about your wrecked clothes – which I’m like, really sorry about, really – but I can get you a new drink…? I mean, i-if you want. We can go right now, actually. I’m not doing anything. That’s stupid, you probably have a life and are doing something. Are you doing anything? I’d really like to get you a new drink, because I feel super bad… Not like a date though! I-I –” 

“Peter.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Cherry.” A small smile was considering showing itself on his lips, but it didn’t need to because his eyes were saying enough for the both of you.

“Do you like Sonic?”


Hours later after the endeavor that was only supposed to consist of a hop to sonic, skip to order, and a jump back home, you and Peter found yourselves lost in that eternal conversation that he’d been wishing on a star for and the one you never knew you desired to have. 

“So, Coldplay, huh?” It was amazing to you how Peter’s blockade of awkward geek piece by piece cracked away until this funny, kind, sarcastic boy had blossomed – a guy you never knew existed. 

“Who doesn’t like Coldplay?” He sent you a laughing touché as he shook his hair out of his eyes, realizing that every little detail about you was more perfect than he’d imagined them all to be. Surrealism was floating all around him, and he just couldn’t figure out what to do with himself. He refused to think about the end of the night – he blocked out what would happen when you went to school the next day, and he pushed away the thoughts and knowing of his once again invisibility in your eyes – when he went back to being the dork, the geek, the loser. 

“Peter?” He pulled himself away from his incessant self-berating to look over at you.

“Sorry, what?” You rolled your eyes at what you thought to be a typical act of a boy, not listening, unbeknownst to you the thoughts going through Peter’s head. You sighed and smiled anyway.

“I said, have you ever tried to tie a cherry stem with your tongue?” A blazing fire instantaneously began blotching itself along Peter’s cheeks, as you began to realize the gravity of the question you’d asked, and a light pink hazed over your normal color, and you choked on the last sip of your Cherry milkshake.

“That’s, uh, not what I meant Peter. I’ve heard it does mean you’re a good kisser, though.” He belched out an uncomfortable laugh. He never, ever – like ever – expected to be having this conversation, especially not with you. He didn’t have any idea what to say, but he figured he couldn’t be any bigger of a moron.

“Uh, I, uh, wouldn’t know… and no, I’ve never tried.” You questioningly gazed up at him, somewhat shocked at what you were sure his answer couldn’t be. Had he never kissed anyone? You found the idea outrageous, yet the perpetual innocence of the idea charmed you, and you couldn’t help but find yourself slowly falling into a spell Peter didn’t even know he was casting on you.

“Have you.. never kissed anyone?” You instantly regretted pursuing your question, as a look of embarrassment imbedded itself on the sweet boy’s face. You wanted nothing more than to tell him that it was okay, and it was all artificial – all so manufactured – unless you really loved the person anyway, but he caught words before you could.

“Yeah, um… I haven’t. But I’ll try the cherry stem.” You could tell he wanted to change the subject, and he made it pretty obvious, too, so you did your best to push it aside, plaster a new feeling in the air as you dug around for the cherry in your now empty cup and popped out its stem. You took Peter’s hand, but the second you touched his skin, you had to stop– if only for a mere and brief moment – to feel the electricity that surged through your veins, all the way to your heart, before placing the stem in his palm. 

“Here you go hot shot. Now come on, there’s a place I want to show you.” 


Since you’d grabbed his hand, Peter had had trouble not sounding like he was speaking Greek, and he wasn’t sure if it was because the cherry stem was still rolling around in his mouth, or because he was just truly that retarded. You were questioning your own genuine intentions of your decision of grabbing his hand, rather than just handing the stem to him, and Peter was still stuck on the fact that you touched his hand at all. 

“Are we, uh, you know, like, at there, or there? Or like, the place, is that…?” He felt like smashing his face into a tornado of bricks, and you couldn’t help but snort.

“Yeah, look.” Peter turned his gaze just in front of him, rather than your Y/H/C hair that had blown strands in front of your eyes and he was really wanting to tuck behind your ear (ugh, what is he, a 1993 RomCom?). You had found yourselves standing in front of a rusty gate that looked close to the end of its life, yet it was still standing, dutifully guarding a vast expanse of junk yard as if it were a sparkling castle. Peter glanced down at you, at the childlike smile adorning you face, and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling, too.

“Well, come on then.” You tugged at his jacket sleeve in anticipation.

“Uh, Y/N, it’s uh… locked. Doesn’t that mean this is trespassing?” You gave him a sarcastic eyebrow raise as you adored his ‘goody-two-shoes’ act.

“Oh, my dear Peter, that’s the fun part.” He looked at you wide eyed, questioning your sanity, but then unquestioning it because it was your demeanor of rebelliousness that had always drawn him to you in the first place. You held your breath before letting out a loose laugh that danced through his ears, better than any music he’d ever heard. 

“I’m just kidding. It’s abandoned. Has been for 5 years now.” He let out a long breath before slowly nodding, now questioning his own sanity for trusting you – something he surely couldn’t help doing, anyway. As you both slipped through the crack in the gate, you guided them to a car far in the back. It stood proud on a hill – the king of the yard – its pawns guarding it in the valley below. Finally reaching the top, you huffed and turned around, facing Peter and promoting him to follow you and clamor to an unsteady, yet sturdy and dented roof. 

“Uh, Y/N. This is a Cadillac.”

“A 1952 Cadillac.”, you pointed a correctional finger at Peter, who was slowly sitting himself down next to you, pulling his knees up to his chest in the approaching nightfall. 

“Aren’t these, like, really expensive?”

“Oh, very. But not Lucy, here. She’s too beaten, too abandoned. Nobody cares or even knows she’s here” He laughed at you and you glowered your eyes.

“Mr. Parker, are you laughing at abuse?” He raised both eyebrows and looked over to you.

“Oh absolutely not. I’m making fun of the fact that you named it Lucy.”

Her.” You shoved his arm, and a clearly fabricated look of pain filled his eyes, making another one of those unfamiliar feelings grace you with its presence. You didn’t want to acknowledge your crazy ideas, but you couldn’t help but admit to yourself the way the boy who asked you questions no one else cared to know, and the boy who you’d never once spoken to unquestioningly treated you like he’d known you his whole life was making you feel. Your feelings were cut off in the middle of their realization when Peter’s eyes widened and he promptly opened his mouth and rolled out his tongue in which a cherry stem was lying, surely enough in a loop. Your mouth hung open as you slowly started to laugh.

“Unbelievable. I’ve been trying to do that for years! Like I said earlier though, you know what the fact that you can do that means.“ You wiggled your eyebrows in a wavy motion at the boy, and with your everlasting eccentric behavior, Peter was grounded, as a sudden and pleading urge to put his lips on yours overcame him. He was mortified by his own feelings and was sure the internal sweat he was feeling was showing through his eyes. He was petrified, but all the same he was angry – truly angry. His whole life he’d been the good kid. He did his homework, always came home on time, focused on family and school, and yes, it made him happy, but it also made him hate his inability to do otherwise. His whole life he’d been too afraid to live it. Maybe once, maybe just this once, he could convince himself to be more like you – more like the girl he’d admired since he’d set his eyes on her. Maybe once he could be Spider-Man without the camouflage. And in the moment of sitting on this hill, staring at the lights of New York City, his life for once seemed like a movie, and he was the guy who wasn’t afraid to kiss the girl. Ending the constant questioning of the rationality of what he was about to do, he started leaning toward you, praying against your rejection. You noticed instantly, and internally thanked the world around you for his seeming ability to read your mind. But the nearer he drew, the shallower yours and his breath became. Having remembered he’d told you he had never kissed anyone, sudden thoughts flooded his mind, a centimeter away from your lips, foreheads touching. He wasn’t good enough. He was too chicken. He was Peter Parker. Spider-Man wasn’t real; he was a mask – an idea. His breath hitched, and his eyes squeezed shut at his idiocy. Stupid. Insecure. Unrealistic. Somehow, in a way you didn’t know, you knew exactly what was beating through Peter’s mind. You knew apprehension in someone when you saw it. You knew self-deprivation. 

“Peter…” He still had his eyes closed when he hesitantly replied,

“Yes…” He was almost inaudible, but his breaking confidence was loud and clear.

“What are you so afraid of?” You just barely breathed it out, but you didn’t want anything to scare him from telling you the truth. He stiffened, both of your eyes still closed. It may have been the most intimate moment you and he had ever experienced in your lives. Everything felt so raw; you could feel Peter’s vulnerability as if it were your own. You could cut the silence with a knife, and it was only Peter’s voice that ripped through it.

“That-that I’m not good enough, especially not for someone like you. I make so many mistakes, Y/N – more than you may ever know. An-and I don’t know how to do this. I’m afraid of myself sometimes.” You lifted your eyelids, the tenderness of the moment hanging by a thread.

“Being honest Peter, I don’t know much about you. I don’t know your story – your past – but what I do know is that you care enough to ask me the little things about myself. Without even asking you paid to buy me an entire new shake, even though us colliding was half my fault. I also know just by looking at your eyes, there’s this-this light. You have such a big heart, and believe me when I tell you, you’re good enough.” Still leaning his forehead on yours, Peter let out a raspy laugh and a small nod, all of which you heard and felt rather than saw. 

“Okay?” You were desperately hoping what you said could at least help him in some way, the way he had helped turn your day around. He opened his eyes fully to look at yours.

“Okay.” {sorry not sorry John Green😂 } And then he kissed you. It happened so drudgingly slow at first, but it quickly caught up with the pace of both of your hearts. Peter officially was lost is a world he thought didn’t exist, barely managing to process the events of the entire day while you pulled at the back of his neck, he pulled at your lips and placed his hands on your waist. It was something that you both needed – something you both wanted. It was a kiss that you both made sure the other knew you never wanted to end. 

the other lupin / teaser

Sirius Black x Reader 

Author’s Note: HEY LOVES just a lil idea I had, so I decided to type it out! Let me know if I should actually work on it and turn it into a small series! I’m sorry this isn’t as good, it’s just a preview though, right? Break starts in a few days, so I’ll have lots of free time to write more fanfics, do send in requests!


/

Your name: submit What is this?

/


Firmly grasping the handle of her small suitcase, the thin silver band on her finger grinding into her skin due to the pressure, Y/N Lupin took a deep breath, her pink lips cracking into a wide smile. Home at last. 13 years ago, her parents had split, divorcing each other for reasons they did not disclose to their children, though both Y/N and her brother knew it must’ve been due to his lycanthropic nature. In an attempt to keep their daughter safe, trying to ensure that she wouldn’t have to face the same fate bestowed upon Remus, Hope Lupin took her daughter away, moving to France to guarantee that she would be enrolled into Beauxbatons when she came of age.

The 17 year old girl had been granted the permission to attend her last year of schooling at Hogwarts. It had been 13 years since she’d last seen her brother, and though the siblings had written letters avidly, it just wasn’t the same. Y/N nervously looked down at her attire, hoping she didn’t look too formal; she was dressed in her silky, powder blue robes from her old academy. She had let her hair down, soft, luscious locks cascading down her back. She stood in front of the headmaster’s office, leaning back against the painted wall, quite impatiently waiting for her turn to be sorted and spoken to.

It was late December and winter break had already started at Hogwarts. Remus had stayed back, nervous yet eager to meet his sister, his twin, someone he missed dearly. Though they were miles apart, she had always been there for him, listening to his problems and offering advice, laughing at his little stories.  Her train had already arrived, and she was due any minute. Of course, she would have to visit Dumbledore’s office first, to privately get her schedule and get sorted into her house.

She’ll be here soon,” chuckled James, who had stayed back at school, along with the rest of the marauders and Lily, all quite keen to meet the other Lupin. They’d seen pictures, beautiful pictures, of a young girl, laughing at something beyond the camera, her hair blowing slowly in the light breeze, a rosy blush adorning her cheeks. Her eyes resembled Remus’, twinkling with excitement and curiosity.

And those same eyes now gazed at them shyly from across the common room, the sound of the painting opening and making way for the girl alerting the group. In a flash, Remus was at his sister’s side, nearly choking her in his embrace, all the loneliness from the past thirteen years manifesting itself into that one hug. Y/N hugged him back with just as much enthusiasm, her laughter ringing in his ears like sweet music. The siblings pulled apart, both with heavy tears in their eyes and extremely wide smiles on their faces.

I’ve missed you so much Rem,” whispered the girl, shoving a large chocolate bar into her brother’s hands, recalling how much he used to adore the sweet treat. After minutes of just taking in each other’s presence, exchanging ‘I wrote more often’ and a few dozen ‘I love you more, I missed you more’, the pair made their way onto the couch, talking about everything and anything, filling in the gaps of the past 13 years. The rest of the marauders had politely slipped away, realizing they shouldn’t interrupt the moment between the Lupins.

One marauder however, could not take Y/N off of his mind. Sirius Black had seen many girls, all more gorgeous and talented than the next. But something about her made his heart flutter in a way it never had before. She was Remus’ twin though, and he could already hear Remus reprimanding him, saying he had no right to be pinning after his best friend’s sister. But isn’t that what makes the chase more exciting? Being told you simply can’t have it? Sirius was a rebel at heart, and if he was told not to do something, he would go out of his way to do it. To him, Y/N Lupin was a forbidden jewel; beautiful and unattainable. And he was determined to make her fall for him, no matter what.

Victory- An Ivar Imagine

So the lovely @pokeasleepingsmaug wrote a stunning piece a little while ago about Ivar taking his lady love on the battlefield, and she encouraged me to write my own little bit as I absolutely love that prompt. So here is my attempt!

TW: mentions of blood, mentions of death, possible voyeurism.

****
The land runs red with blood.

He sits atop his chariot, surveying the carnage laid out before him. Bodies litter the field, carrion birds already gorging themselves on their prepared feast. He inhales deeply, letting the stench of decay and death fill his lungs. The cries of the dying echo in his ears. Such sweet, sweet music. The only sound he loves more is the sound of his name on your lips.

You. His fierce, fearless shieldmaiden. His goddess of war and destruction. Only you understand his lusts and desires, his hunger for blood and chaos. He scans the horizon for your form, and his heart gives a mighty thump within his chest when he finds you.

He watches you pick your way across the field, dragging your tainted sword behind you. Your braided hair has come undone, your shield is splintered and you are covered in blood. He thinks you have never looked more terrifying or more beautiful. A true wild woman, the incarnation of death herself.

He calls your name, a clear sound over the groans of the dying. Your eyes find his, and a hungry smile spreads across your face. Your teeth are stained red, and he longs to plunge his tongue into your mouth and lick them all clean.

You make your way to his chariot, and with each step he finds himself growing more eager for you. He wants to lay you down amongst the bodies and make you scream his name. He wants to soak up all the blood caked to your skin, wants to taste the sweet tang of victory on your tongue. He wants to feel so, so alive amidst all this death. His very bones cry out for it.

You must see it on his face, for you give him a wicked look and toss away your sword and shield. You fall to your knees on the ground, hands spread outwards as if you are begging. Begging for him, begging for what only he can give you. You open your crimson stained lips and only one word tumbles out.

“Please.”

It is all he needs to hear.

He crawls over the bodies, slithering like a serpent through the mud. The blood thrums rapidly in his veins. He watches you as he moves, watches your pupils devour the color of your eyes, watches the flush of desire creep up your neck. He knows you love him like this, all filthy and covered in gore, drunk on the rush of killing. He knows in this moment you want him to cover your body with his, to fall together in a sticky heap of blood and sweat and arousal. And he is desperate to grant you your wish.

He reaches your kneeling figure, one hand coming to rest on your neck, feeling the beat of your pulse beneath his fingers. Alive, whole, still his. He squeezes gently and shudders at the soft moan that slips from you. He stretches his other hand, one grimy finger to running reverently across your bottom lip. Your tongue darts out to lick the blood crusted along the tip, and everything that holds him together snaps.

It’s a war of tongues and teeth, of grasping hands and scratching nails. There is no time nor place for softness or loving touches; this moment is for ferocity and vitality, for feeling everything there is to feel in this earthly flesh. His every sense is heightened, every touch and every kiss threatens to burn him from the inside out. You are perfect beneath him, groping and gasping and whimpering until he can barely hold himself together.

He’s fast and ruthless, a perfect mimicry of how he moves in battle. You match him in every movement, a dance you have honed over the time you have shared together. He does not care if anyone hears or sees. In fact, he wants them to. He wants the dying men around him to see the ones who have struck them down, twisted together like vines on a branch. He wants them to hear your screams, for them to know that they are leaving this world while he is still enjoying it. Their enemy has conquered them, and now he receives his prize.

It does not take long. One last bruising kiss, one final dig of your nails into his shoulders and he’s roaring, shouting out his triumph across the desolate wasteland. Your cries mingle with his, and the whole earth seems to shake with the force of it.

He catches his breath, letting you cradle him against you as he laps lazily at the blood spattered across your neck. He has never felt more complete, never felt more perfectly balanced. It is all his favourite things at once: glory, death, sex and you. It is the sweetest victory he can imagine.

So when you give birth to his firstborn son nine months later, he knows exactly what to name him.

“Sigtrygg. Our trusted victory.”

****
Ivar having sex around blood and death is canon, let’s not kid ourselves otherwise ;)

The Butterfly Effect

Originally posted by ksjknj

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter SevenChapter Eight Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven

Pairing: Kim Namjoon / Park Jimin 

Genre: ABO Dynamics - Werewolf!AU, Actor!AU

Rating: Mature

Author: Admin Kaycie

Words: 3.6K+

Series Summary: Kim Namjoon was no ordinary rising star, he was the star at the very top of the tree of fame. He was a man with a strict schedule, every moment of his life planned out immaculately. Park Jimin was a distant childhood friend in need of his protection - the only problem, he was a rare male omega, and also Namjoon’s mate. Will Namjoon be able to deal with a developing scandal, a career in trouble, and the advances of the mate that he is strictly prohibited from claiming?

Series Status: Completed

Keep reading

in reference to [x]

@askthelongnosedsniper , @fear-fuel-dragon , @konekonami 


Operation Romantic Encounter 

expectations: Nami and Sanji having a romantic dinner accompanied with some fancy dresed crew mates who are playing beautiful music for them in the background.

reality: Nami and Sanji having a romantic dinner accompanied with some idiots wearing tuxedos who are playing the (bad version of) Titanic flute cover in the background.

Piano!lock AU

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3ao3

He hurtled in his room crying out in frustration and anger that you rarely see in an eight-year-old child. His sister watched him wide-eyed cuddled under the covers of her bed at the other side of the room. The boy spent some time with his eyes directed at the shut door furiously before darting to his own bed and falling face-first on the pillows.

After a while his sister forced her blankets over her head trying to ignore her brother’s muffled sobs as tears rolled her soft cheeks silently.


His fingers twitched unoccupied. He was sitting in a car at a corner of a dark street. Music could be heard from the nearby club. Music his ears painfully recognised and his mind reminded him of. The man beside him was crouched to the wheel with a pair of binoculars stuck in his eyes. Stake out. What could be worse in their line of work? His ear caught another melody and his head turned almost violently to glare at his partner incredulously. Ah, yes, of course that was the only thing missing. Sherlock Holmes humming on his own rhythms that dangerously resembled Bach. Damn it, this wasn’t a good night for him.

‘Sherlock.’ He managed.

‘Eyes on the subject, John.’ Came back the low voice commanding, not even granting him a glance.

Doctor John Watson sighed in his eternal turmoil of a situation. How did this man always manage to make him unnerved in the end? His leg was twitching in anticipation now. This was officially the Worst.Night.Ever. Weeks afterwards he might actually reconsider that decision of proclamation but now it seemed quite appealing.

They were on a crazy, unusual case as was usual with them about a mysteriously stolen antique this time and honestly John couldn’t comprehend what was so special about that one. The way that was stolen was pretty obvious and the thief as well, already caught by the police. However, as always, Sherlock insisted on a stake out at the other side of town, of some utterly irrelevant salesman’s house.

Soon the music died out, the last people from the pub passed their car oblivious of their presence, overwhelmed in music and alcohol, the hours drew ahead of them like endless pauses on a pentagram. John’s agitation soon left when there was no more music (thankfully his detective partner had got bored of humming hopeless tunes), and his body was soon sliding lower, his head fell on the side and his eyes slowly started to close in the small hours before dawn.

Sherlock let him drift off for a while. He didn’t need much sleep anyway but John slept indeed much more even though it was uncoordinated and scarce for a proper normal person, it still was more than Sherlock. The detective smiled softly hearing the impalpable snore from the shorter man and wondered if it would be like that when he slept in a proper bed. He quickly shoved the thoughts away and focused on the task at hand somehow frustrated that nothing had happened yet.


It happened when he was seven. His mother had gotten sick. The grown-ups wouldn’t talk about it in front of them but both him and his sister knew. Soon she couldn’t get up from bed. Father wouldn’t take her to the doctors at the hospital. He had been there once. They had helped his leg mend. He was sure they could help Mother.

Their walks on the park had stopped long before that though. Father said he should concentrate on his lessons from now on. He didn’t mean Mother’s lessons, just school. The child had done everything he could to finish everything early every single day so he could at least proudly go to Mother and ask her to teach him again. She would just smile and guide him through every single challenge. He loved it. He didn’t mind that he wasn’t allowed to go to the park anymore. He loved her. Now she was sick.

His little sister had whined and complained and cried about the park. She wanted her friends and their games back. She blamed him for spending time with Mother rather than fighting like her. She was little then… No more than four years old. He didn’t blame her. One day she would understand the beauty of it. One day he dreamed of her admiration. One day he wished he could teach her too.

Their little childish dreams hardly mattered in reality though. Once Mother was sick the music was gone. Father forbade him of practicing, of even getting near Mother’s game. The little boy hated him for it. He told Mother, he begged her to get to the good doctors, to get up and play with him. She just smiled as always and dried the tears from her son’s eyes whispering he should be strong. She told him a story of a prince that never gave up his dreams and one day he won against the dark wizard and came back to his kingdom victorious.


John woke with a start, trying to get up. Damn it, Sherlock is humming again. That was the first thing he registered, the tremor in his hand visible now. John grunted trying to hide it by pressing his fist against his thigh. It didn’t work. In the meantime, Sherlock was looking at him.

‘John, alright?’ The detective frowned at his hand before looking directly into his eyes.

‘Yes, alright. Thanks. What did I miss?’ The doctor said with a stiff voice and pretended to look around as if something would happen exactly because he woke up.

Dawn was almost upon them. A faint light that spread through the clouds of London. The road in front of them was hopelessly the same. John’s hand stiffened when a warm touch on the wrist was applied to it. He glanced down and saw Sherlock observing intensely. John shivered and tried to pull away but Sherlock was already resisting the force with a steady tug of his fingers.

‘John.’ He said letting John’s hand free after a close examination.

‘Sherlock.’ John replied as if nothing at all was concerning.

‘I hadn’t seen your hand tremble like that in years.’ Sherlock knew where not to push John with his immediate deductions anymore.

‘Yeah, well, it never stopped.’ John provided looking away.

‘Yes, it had.’ He persisted.

John knew he could see the tensed shoulders and clenched jaw. He knew Sherlock had already thought of all the possibilities. John was hiding something important at the moment. Sherlock must have realised from the moment the doctor woke up, maybe even before, that he was having a nightmare. It wasn’t one of the usual ones of war and Afghanistan, this was something else, something Sherlock hadn’t seen before. However, John didn’t give in. Sherlock sighed deciding to keep it for another time. John Watson always surprised him. What could possibly be new and unknown about the good old doctor for Sherlock after all those years? This wasn’t exactly new after all. Sherlock could see the lines stressed across John’s face, the elevated pulse, the reluctance of acknowledge. This was deeply rooted. How could Sherlock miss something like that for so long? Still he would like very much to take it slow and find out while John grew accustomed to the idea of him knowing. The detective didn’t want to repeat the mistakes of the past on something clearly important. How could it not be? Everything was important about John.


She died not a year after. The little boy had prayed and wished to all the stars he could see in the sky to let her live. He hadn’t forgotten her tale and so hoped his Mother meant that the victory would be theirs and the bad sickness would leave their home soon but that never happened. His sister hadn’t said a word to him or anyone else for a long time even before Mother died. Now she was utterly quiet. He had stopped trying to talk to her or explain to her how school and friends worked and how small numbers were not good in the paper that the teacher would send to Father. He was tired.

The day she left, Mother had taken her son’s fingers in her palms. They were already stiff from almost a year of non-usage. The boy was ashamed for he had forgotten all she had taught him to play. But Mother just smiled… as always… and whispered.

‘Promise me, you’ll never give up, Johnny. Promise me, you’ll take care of your sister. Promise me that one day you’ll be great at playing and you will teach her as you always wanted. Promise me, Johnny. Promise me.’

‘But I’m not the prince, Mother.’ His voice had cracked. ‘You are not getting well. I am not the prince. I cannot make my dreams come true.’ tears were streaming from his grey eyes. Mother only smiled.

‘I am not your dream, little one. Promise me, now.’ She had fallen back to the pillows that almost engulfed her and buried her whole. The little boy straightened his shoulders and nodded that day.

‘I promise.’ He had said, and he broke that promise.


The stake out was proved pointless. John was driving them home glancing at a very grumpy Sherlock beside him from time to time rolling eyes. The detective was crouched in his seat buried in his coat, legs bent and curled to his chest. You could only see some black curls standing up from the end of his coat collar. John humphed in exasperation. He would have to deal with this for quite possibly a whole week. Crime was slow this time of year and this was the only case Lestrade could come up with that might get Sherlock out of the flat for a few hours. He was right on the practical part, but failed to look further ahead. Sherlock didn’t like being wrong and he liked being fooled much less. A small smile appeared on John’s lips remembering the last time Sherlock had a shouting match with Greg at the police station. He only hoped Sherlock will be more discreet this time and call him to Baker Street.

Finally, at home. John parked nearby at a lonelier street and got out desperate for a good snooze on the couch with morning tea. Cars and buses were already moving almost hectically to the streets and it wasn’t even properly working hours yet. Sherlock took a bit of time to gather himself and although it frustrated John immensely, he couldn’t help but smirk at the detective’s dishevelled form struggling out of the car as if drunk. They both quickly paced towards 221B feeling the cold creeping up their exhausted and unfed bodies. Once in, John alerted Mrs Hudson knowing she’ll be well awake by now and by the time he got to the stairs he could hear Sherlock’s door shutting closed with a loud bang.

‘Bastard…’ he whispered through gritted teeth. Now he would have to make tea on his own along with almost a dozen experiments on the kitchen table. Good luck to him finding the real sugar.

The earlier incident was all forgotten and especially for John that sounded something like good news. The last thing he needed was Sherlock looking into his most sacred and deep past. There was a reason it was buried and should stay that way. Gosh, that music earlier must have triggered the memory in the dream. John should really be careful next time. He couldn’t quite name a date for when his memory started to fight back at him by recognises pieces and notes randomly wherever he went as if looking for stimulation. He could either let it alone or steel himself in case it happened again. John knew the second could quite possibly make him prone to those incidents even more but he could not risk leaving it to mere chance. He had to do with Sherlock Holmes after all. Definitely the last thing he needed.


So yeah, decided to write this because it was so damn cute <3 Part 2 coming soon, I stayed up all night to write as much as I could and it is not beta-ed so sorry for any mistakes. Going to post it on Ao3 as well, I’ll soon get a link here especially for when it becomes smutty but we have time for that ;) a few people were interested so tags below the cut

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

:0 can you do one where it's like the MC came from america and they all tease her but then (drumroll) SHES ALSO SOUTHERN and has SUCH a drawl and ofc the classic weird southern phrases or pet names and country music n lame stuff like that (pls help my poor georgia born heart) (my accent has killed so many ppl) love u long time

I’m not very Southern tbh but I was born and raised in FL. It’s such an… interesting place to live… The food here is hella good though, for the most part. My blood is practically sweet tea.

Yoosung:
-He noticed your accent instantly. I mean who wouldn’t?
-Once he was being gullible to Seven’s pranks and all you said was “Yoosung… bless your heart.”
-He thought it was a compliment.
-Oh Yoosung you have so much to learn
-You should teach him some southern recipes. Please. He is so interested in what southern food tastes like.
-When he finally does try it, it’s so different from what he usually eats, but it’s a pleasant different.
-He finds himself wanting more afterwards.
-You both tend to enjoy making southern dinner together now.
-He finds it entertaining.
-as long as you don’t play country music while you cook

Zen:
-Even with a southern drawl, he loves your voice. You know why? Because it’s the voice of the love of his life, so of course it’s gorgeous~
-Music to his ears~
-Speaking of music…
-He hates to be judgmental, especially when it involves you… but he doesn’t like country music.
-He can appreciate some aspects of it because it’s music and music is an art, but he can’t get over how it sounds.
-Also, he’s interested in how life in the south is.
-Please tell him stories about the south. He’d love it so much. He just wants to everything about you, and this is obviously a big part of you.
-Anyone that picks on you will be fought.

Jaehee:
-She actually finds the way you talk incredibly adorable.
-Besides, you’re presence alone is calming to Jaehee, so she’d love your voice no matter what it sounded like.
-On occasion, you’ll play a song she actually finds herself enjoying.
-It’s typically country songs that are borderline pop songs but oh well.
-When you call her “sweet pea” she feels blessed.
-But you also call everyone you talk to “sweetie” or “baby” or “sweetheart”
-Umm??? I thought I was your baby????
-You explain that where you come from, it’s normal for people to call each other that, especially women.
-She’ll get over it.

Jumin:
-He’s always known the stereotype of American Southerners™ but you’re obviously not uneducated and uncivilized like the stereotypes make you out to be.
-He doesn’t like country music. He much prefers classical music over the stuff you listen to that doesn’t make any sense to him whatsoever.
-But, if it’s what you like, he’s going to deal with it and listen to it to make you happy.
-The only time he’ll willingly listen to country is if you’re the one performing.
-Unless it’s you, he doesn’t care for it.
-One day you suggest cooking dinner for him so he can try how you lived back in the south.
-He tries it and calls it commoner food appreciates your hard work. It was obviously made with more love than his usual food.
-Doesn’t mean he wants to eat it again though it’s too much for him

Saeyoung:
-You are the target of so many jokes.
-Bless your heart.
-He puts on a fake accent all the time to mimic you.
-His impression is spot on, you hate to admit.
-He’s the kind of person to get offended when you call PhD Pepper “Coke”.
-It is not “Coke”, it is the nectar of the Gods, _____.
-stfu Saeyoung
-He quotes country songs out of context at inappropriate times too.
-If anyone other than him makes fun of you though he gets super defensive.
-Only he is allowed to talk like a redneck and sing Florida Georgia Line in front of you.
-He calls you southern nicknames, in English too. He thinks it’s teasing, but you actually love when he calls you that.

V:
-He thinks your accent is cute and endearing, especially when you talk in English.
-Country isn’t his kind of thing, but if you want to listen to it, of course he’ll allow it.
-He might not like the songs you play, but he can’t bring himself to hate something you like so much.
-He can tolerate it since it makes you happy.
-V enjoys when you teach him more about what it was like growing up in the south, the good and the bad stories.
-It helps him understand you on another level, which is all he really wants in life.
-He’s not a fan of southern food, but he is willing to try it if you wanted him to.
-Literally so open to anything you bring up.

Saeran:
-Your accent had no affect on him.
-Like he obviously noticed it but he didn’t really notice it.
-“_____ has such a thick southern accent.”
-“They do?”
-“…Yeah.”
-“…Oh. I guess they do.”
-He doesn’t like country music and he isn’t afraid to express that.
-Sometimes, though, he’ll tolerate it to make you happy. He’ll just be pouting the whole time.
-He of course knows nothing about the south but he’s okay with learning.
-I mean, if it’s about you, he’s willing to listen.
-He wants to know you better anyway.
-From your stories, it’s much different where you’re from compared to Korea. It does capture his attention.
-You can tell he’s listening because he even asks questions for you to elaborate on.
-He probably won’t admit it, but he enjoys learning more about you.


P.S. I hope you read this post in a southern accent because I was thinking in a southern accent while I wrote this.