i can hear will saying that.... i've picture on my head

Harry Potter being raised right, by Sirius Black who just ‘fuck rules, Moony, I’m not letting my Godson live in hell’ because he managed to transform into his animagi form and escape the scene of the crime before he got caught, and took Harry before Dumbledore said anything. Him technically being an Honorary Potter, still gives Harry the protection from Voldemort, while at 12 Grimmauld Place.

Him carrying a baby Harry, who just started speaking, his first words being, ‘Dada’, which makes him start to cry and ‘no, Harry, he’s not here. It’s only Padfoot and Moony now.’ And Harry giggling, because he’s only an infant, and is innocent like that.

Harry being sent to Neville Longbottom’s grandmother’s place during full moons so Padfoot can take care of Moony.

Harry when he’s 2, and can only call them ‘MoonMoon, and Pa'foo’ and laughing when they play Hide And Seek, and Moony just found Padfoot and Harry sleeping on the couch, Padfoot protectively draping his paw around Harry, in his animagi form, and Harry clutching onto the fur happily as he sleeps.

Moony and Padfoot buying a toy broomstick for Harry when he’s 4, and he learns to fly before he can walk, but, 'Its only two feet about the ground, Moony, relax.’

Harry finding the portrait of the Black Family tree, and seeing Padfoot blasted off of it. Harry getting angry, and drawing Padfoot back onto the portrait, with 'Padfoot’, with his crayons, and putting 'Moony’ next to it, and later covering all the other people in his black coloured crayon. 'I’m covering them up.’

Moony and Padfoot telling Harry the truth about his parents when he’s 7, because 'He’s old enough, Padfoot, and he needs to know what really happened. We’d be no better than those Dursleys if we didn’t.’

Harry understanding completely, crying a bit, in the middle of the night, but making sure no one heard him. The next day, Harry asks about his parents, and what they were like.

Harry getting small things that belonged to Lily, that Moony and Padfoot got from the house, and kept for him, including a picture of James and Lily’s first kiss, and many small muggle items she had from when she was small. He also got a sweater that belonged to James, which was from his Quidditch Practicing days.

Moony and Padfoot teaching Harry small jinxes and counter Jinxes when he’s 8, and Harry sneakily using a jinx on Padfoot because it was a prank war, and every prank war means at least one man having pink hair.

Harry when he’s nine, and being prepped on everything to do with Hogwarts, and how to get away from trouble, and which teachers to avoid or go to in the school, if Harry can’t contact Moony or Padfoot.

Harry being 10, and waking up in the middle of the night, to see Moony and Padfoot sleeping together on the couch, Moony putting his head on Padfoot’s lap, while his hand is in Moon’s hair, as he was playing with his hair before he fell asleep. Harry giggling, because 'Moony and Padfoot are in loveeee~’ yet neither of them deny it.

Harry getting his letter to Hogwarts as soon as he turns 11, and Moony and Padfoot’s throw a small party to celebrate, inviting Neville as well.

The three of them going to Diagon Alley, and many people greeting Harry, and Padfoot boasting about it, while Moony laughs.

Harry getting to meet many kids who might meet him at Hogwarts, including Ddaco Malfoy, and Padfoot growling when he sees Lucius, and says 'they’re a bad sort, Harry, keep away from them,’ but he didn’t listen, and being the small outgoing kid he was, he went to say 'Hi! Are you going to Hogwarts too?’ And Draco, actually being surprised and smiling awkwardly because his father was talking to the shopkeeper, at the corner of the room, so he didn’t know what to say, and he nods. Padfoot smiling because Harry looks happy, and Moony thinks that maybe Draco might be different.

Harry promising to send them letters every single day, by owl, while he hugs them goodbye, and runs towards the Hogwarts Express, waving at them until they are no longer visible.

Harry keeping his promise and telling Moony and Padfoot all about Hermione Jean Granger, and Ronald 'Ron’ Weasley, who are his new best friends, and Draco Malfoy 'who is an absolute git sometimes, but can actually be a sweetheart.’ and how Hermione and Ron managed to help him battle a troll in the girls bathroom, as well as meet Fluffy, the three headed dog, and how they played a game of wizard chess, and defeated Lord Voldemort, who was stuck on Professor Quirrell’s head, and how, when he saw the Mirror of Erised, he saw Padfoot, Moony, Lily, and James, (Or mum and dad) standing next to him, while they sat in the house. Oh and 'I’m seeker for the Gryffindors! Just like dad!’

Harry receiving a howler the next day, which was the day before Ron received it, and hearing Moony scream himself raw, 'YOU WERE TAUGHT BETTER THAN TO FIGHT WITH SEVERUS— “Moony, it’s Snivellus, Harry meant no harm, I’m sure of it.” — AND HAD ABSOLUTELY NO RIGHT TO DISOBEY ORDERS. PADFOOT, DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY? “I’m proud of you, Harry, keep up the good work. Tell Snivellus that if he irritates you any longer, he’s gonna have to speak to me.” PADFOO-’ And the Howler ends, bursting into flames, while Ron is laughing, and Hermione smiles, while Draco hollers a “congrats Potter!” and I AM SORRY FOR TAKING UP YOUR TIME BUT I VERY WELL NEED THIS IN MY LIFE, AND SO DO YOU.

Imagine being Dean’s daughter and announcing to him that you are dating Jack.

“Him?” Dean’s rough voice broke the heavy silence that had set between the two of you “You are dating him?” he all-but-growled as he stared deeply in your eyes.

“Well, I- I wouldn’t say exactly dating yet, he’s not that familiar with the term and I’m-”

“Yet?!” Dean exclaimed, his voice coming slightly high-pitched “Yet? You mean this will keep going on?!”

“Well, yes dad of course it is!” you huffed, rolling your eyes “That’s why I am telling you, because this is actually important to me. And maybe Jack doesn’t quite understand the terms yet but I know that his feelings are real, that all of this between him and I is real as well.”

“Which again brings me back to my original question: Him?!” he looked at you with so much shock it made you groan and cross your arms over your chest.

“Will you try to be a little less surprised, please? I thought you’d be a little less shocked at your daughter-”

“Dating the son of Lucifer? Oh yeah!” he cut you off full of sarcasm and a hint of angst “Why the hell would I ever mind that (Y/n)?!”

Keep reading

summersaltturn  asked:

"Have anyone told you you have the most intimidating nostrils I've ever seen?"

“Yeah, I won an award, junior year,” Derek answers, frowning at his new IKEA (bought and built, all in a soft Henley sweater; Stiles knows, he supervised) book-shelf, like he hasn’t just finished a seven hundred page tome on Egyptian artefacts. A seven hundred page tome on Egyptian artefacts alone.

Derek Hale: epic nerd and assembler of easy-to-build IKEA products. Of course, Stiles thinks, cursing his stupid Professor and DIY kinks. Why not? The worst part is, he doesn’t even think those kinks are sexual. It’s just….a thing. That he has. A Derek thing. The Butterflies That Live In His Stomach were trying so desperately to move on with their lives, too. They’d shopped around. Hired a real-estate agent. They were ready, goddammit!  

Derek settles on a book - Stiles is pretty sure it also has the word ‘artefacts’ in the title - and sighs, all feigned nostalgia, and glances over his shoulder. “It was a golden nose, too. Across the bottom it said,” he pauses, grinning, “Stiles Stilinski needs to get a life.”

Stiles opens his mouth, clutches his chest, because rude much? Is it his fault Derek’s nostrils belong in some kind of anatomy museum? Is it his fault his Saturday nights are spent playing video games in his underwear, when his week days are spent chasing down monsters and researching things like how Scott and Erica managed to contract chicken pox when stabbing them does, like, nothing? (Except get Erica excited because she’s a beautiful, terrifying weirdo.) The moment he tries to tell Derek this, however, a copy of - is that Pride and Prejudice? - is thrown at his head. 

Stiles doesn’t know if he’s more offended when Derek rolls his eyes when it misses him, or the concerned look that crosses his face when the book sails past him and lands in an empty pizza box, like Derek is worried if it’s okay or not. 

And to think, Stiles was going to screw up his courage and finally invite Derek to see a movie this weekend. In an actual theatre. Where people go to be normal. Well, the laugh is on Derek because Stiles is going to buy the big popcorn and he’s going to enjoy it all on his own. 

Yeah, that’ll show him. 

~

“Has anyone ever told you your eyebrows could star in a disturbing kid’s movie about caterpillars?” 

Stiles is drunk. No, he’s wasted. Hammered. Loaded. Completely and utterly shit faced. Which is probably why instead of ending up on his ass on the floor, Derek just pinches the bridge of his nose, tips his head against the back of the couch and says, “what.” Not even a hint of inflection.

This dude, Stiles thinks, and then laughs because, ohmygod, Derek is this dude now. Not that dude or whoa, what are you doing crawling through my window, dude? but this dude. And that’s kind of beautifully heart warming, in its own way. 

Really, Stiles should write into Hallmark. It could be a trilogy. A Gay Trilogy ™. Bisexuals on ice. Except, without the ice because Stiles doesn’t know how to skate. Can Derek skate? Stiles totally bets Derek can skate.   

Speaking of Derek, he’s got this little crinkle on his forehead now, right between his eyebrows, and man, they really are very nice eyebrows. Animated but nice. A little dramatic but nice. Murderous but nice.

“What,” Derek says again, looking more confused than annoyed by the second. Stiles really wants to kiss him.

Instead, he stares. Stares and stares and stares.

Shit.

Slapping a hand over his mouth, he begins laughing uncontrollably and before he knows it, he’s clutching his sides and has his face pressed against Derek’s chest, because the hilarity is killing him. 

Because this is them now. Drinking peach-snaps at Derek’s loft, on a couch filled with throw pillows. Throw pillows. One is even soft and pink and frilly and another has a picture of the pack on it. Granted, no one is looking at the camera but Derek, Boyd and Kira and Derek is not so much looking at the camera as yelling at Stiles (holding the camera) for eating his secret stash of cookies, but it’s nice. It’s a nice picture. There is a plain black pillow too, of course. Somewhere. Stiles might be sitting on it, actually. He figures one can only expect so much when it comes to sour-wolves but Erica glued little cat ears on it last week and Derek said nothing. Fuck, he’d even smiled.

It says a lot about what a secret softie Derek is when it comes to vulnerable, drunk-ass people, because he doesn’t push Stiles away; just lets him laugh and laugh until he passes out, drooling on his chest. 

When Stiles wakes up, Derek’s sweater is pretty soaked through but he hasn’t moved an inch. He does, however, tell Stiles he snores like a deranged goose and that he owes him a pastry later.

He doesn’t even ask for a specific kind, Stiles chastises in his head, falling back to sleep. He’s in love with a pastry idiot. 

~

“Do you know when you smile, you brighten up the whole damn room?”

The question clearly catches Derek off guard because he falls head first…into a duck pond. 

Stiles’ first reaction is to jump in after him - he hates to admit it, but he gets a little nervous around water when Derek is with him; there have been several incidents where he’s unconsciously grabbed Derek’s hand in order to drag him away from pools and, one time, a very large puddle - but when Derek emerges, wearing his someone is about to die face, Stiles can’t be held accountable for the way he falls to the ground because, yup, that’s a tiny, outraged duckling perched on top of Derek’s head.   

“Oh my god,” he yells, rolling onto his back and kicking his legs in the air. He feels like a kid, grabbing his stomach, water practically pouring from his eyes. This was, quite possibly, the best day of his life.

Normally, Derek would be yelling threats - several, in fact, some in Spanish because he’s a show off - but he just stands there….in the middle of a fucking pond. The duckling is still sitting on his head, like he or she plans to set up home there and it’s so adorable Stiles thinks he actually coos out loud.

Still, Derek still doesn’t say anything. Not even when Stiles coos again, very, very deliberately. (And Scott said his middle name could never be Danger, pffft.) Stiles can’t actually guess what Derek is going to do but he doesn’t care. He looks a strange cross between wanting to murder someone - namely, Stiles - and a little kid who was told they couldn’t get a puppy only to get one on Christmas day anyway. 

Mostly, he just looks lost. And wet. Very, very wet. Somewhere out there, someone is playing It’s Raining Men and Stiles wants nothing more than to share this glorious moment with them. He’s just in the process of taking out his phone to at least snap a photo to send to the pack when - 

“Did you mean it?” Derek asks, and man, those water droplets just keep on running, don’t they. 

Stiles grins. “Did I mean for you to fall into a pond and adopt a new feathered friend? No but I think we can all agree-” 

Stiles.” 

Derek growls and it would be effective - at least in getting Stiles to help him out of the pond - if it wasn’t for the fact his ears were turning a little pink. A lot pink, actually and - 

Oh.

Sitting up, Stiles drags his butt over to the edge of the pond.

“Yeah,” he says. “I meant it. I mean, smiles can’t literally light up rooms, I know that, but when you smile it’s like…” He sighs and flaps his arms, suddenly nervous, hitting Derek in the process. The duckling practically glares at him and Stiles briefly wonders if he has competition here. 

Right. Better make this good then. He clears his throat. 

“It’s like, everything just makes sense for a little bit, you know? I look at you and it’s not that smiling is rare for you, at least not anymore, but it’s still pretty thrilling to see it and when you do I’m like, that’s some quality shit right there but then I get confused because it’s like, do I wanna punch it? Kiss it? Pet it? Who knows. Usually it depends on what you’re wearing.” 

Derek blinks and Stiles groans because, yeah, he just said that out loud. In real time. To Mr McGrumpy himself. Who is currently not reacting.

Great.

“Uh, I mean,” he attempts to correct himself but it’s too late. Derek is already slowly pulling him in and pressing his lips to his in what is the single most innocent, chaste kiss of Stiles’ life - because, you know, duckling and head movements - but somehow, it still manages to be perfect. 

“Nice,” Stiles whispers, after, waggling his eyebrows.

Derek snorts and kisses him again.

~

“Turn it off,” Derek whines, nuzzling further into Stiles’ neck. “This is why I leave my phone in the kitchen. Like we discussed.

Stiles tries to swat him, ends up kissing his temple. Sue him, he’s tired. “Says the person who can afford to leave their phone in the kitchen. We don’t all have supernatural hearing, asshole.”

Derek whines again. “You also have the worst taste in ringtones.”

Stiles gasps, suddenly sitting up. Well, he tries to. When your boyfriend is made of muscle and is half lying on top of you, it makes moving a lot more difficult. Not that Stiles is really complaining. Much. “I’ll have you know Bushes of Love is a Star Wars parody classic.”    

Derek rolls his eyes, Stiles can feel it, says, “just answer it, sweetums.” 

“Ugh,” Stiles grimaces, “I already told you I’m sorry for the pet-name thing. It was an accident!”

“Calling me your ‘slutty buddy’ in front of your dad was meant as a pet name?”

“It sounded better in my head!”  

Derek groans and wraps an “exasperated” arm around Stiles’ waist. Oh. So. Exasperated. Stiles grins. “Answer. Your. Phone.” 

Stiles finds his phone on the fifth try.

He has fifteen missed calls, all from Erica. Texts too. Every single one is a link to some article online, followed by a string of heart and eggplant emojis.   

Young Love and the Ugly Duckling’,” Stiles reads, clicking on the link. “Uhhh, Derek?” He prods him. 

What.” 

There’s a picture of us in the online Beacon Gazette,” looking into each other’s eyes, like a pair of love sick fools, Stiles wants to add because, wow, is he really that obvious when he looks at Derek? To be fair though, Derek isn’t much better and he is the one with an angry bird on his head.

He prods Derek again and again until he finally gives in, makes him look at the phone. 

“Huh,” he says, blinking at it. “Fred looks pretty pissed that I’m kissing you.” His face breaks out in a smug grin and Stiles rolls his eyes. Hard. 

“You are aware Fred is a duckling, right?” 

“Yes.” Derek grins harder, showing all his teeth, although his cheeks do colour slightly when he catches Stiles’ eye. 

Stiles sighs, totally not fond. “They couldn’t have come up with a better title, though?” he asks, brandishing his phone. “The Ugly Ducking, really?” 

Yeah,” Derek says, frowning. “I mean, I wouldn’t go as far as to call you ugly.” He laughs and Stiles smacks him across the chest with a loud, “hey!”

They both turn back to look at the picture. 

“We look so stupid,” Stiles whispers, shaking his head and biting his thumb. We fit, he thinks. We look like we fit. 

Leaning in, Derek smiles at him. “We do,” he agrees, burying his face back into the warmth of Stiles’ neck, muttering something about home and content and stupid Star Wars parodies.

Stiles snaps a selfie, captions it goals, and sends it to Erica. 

anonymous asked:

i love your writing so much, its literally the best i've seen and im always happy when you update.. i was wondering if you could do a friends to lovers au with kang daniel? i saw that you added wanna one in your rules but i'd understand if you don't or can't write it ;;

sure!! i haven’t written for w1 in a while, so here you go!!

  • daniel was the perfect jock in highschool,,,,,,athletic, likeable, and good looking
  • which is why you weren’t even banking on becoming friends with him - not until senior year rolled around and you found yourself on the long bus ride for a college tour and guess who was sitting right beside you,,,,,kang daniel
  • and just as you were about to put your headphones in your ear, daniel saw the name of the song flash on your phone, and excitedly turned to you with a beaming smile
  • “i love that song too!” 
  • he put out his hand and for a second you just stared at it, till you handed him one earbud and he put it in
  • for the next hour,,,,you two just listened to music and gushed over your playlists
  • and then,,,,you were asleep, head comfortably against daniel’s shoulder as he held his varsity jacket over your laps to keep you warm
  • waking up, you were shocked to see a group of fellow students staring down at you two, daniel still peacefully asleep
  • out of embarrassment you nudged him awake and he greeted the others with a sleepy smile
  • you guys were back at school and you got up, thinking if you could sneak past him and this crowd you’d be home free, but someone’s hand grabbed your wrist before you could go
  • “hey, i didn’t get your name.”
  • daniel asked and you,,,,,faced with the looks of your classmates,,,,stuttered it out and then rushed out of the bus
  • you had thought of the moment as one of those,,,,breakfast club things,,,,popular boy is nice to you for a day and then poof - forgets you exist
  • but it’s kang daniel,,,,,,,the sweetest boy in the world,,,,and the next day in the halls he jogged up to you and asked if you could send over your playlist - he really liked them
  • so senior years, you became close 
  • between his last season playing football and college applications, there were only a handful of moments but they were all really special
  • from sitting on the school roof, eating snacks and blasting your favorite bands
  • to meeting daniel’s cats when you came over to help him out with his essay
  • to riding double on his bike up the hill to what was known as the prime spot for couples, yet all you guys did was laugh at pictures on his phone of classmates doing hilarious things at parties and then fall into deep conversations about your future
  • you somehow always thought it was a dream,,,those times with daniel
  • because you were on different planets when it came to personalities, lightyears of difference in your highschool experiences
  • but then you looked at him, and he was really there beside you, looking casually gorgeous in a weared down flannel and sweatpants
  • turning to smile at you, the pretty curve of his eyes reminding you of the reason why half your school wanted to date him
  • but then it came,,,,the day of graduation,,,,,you were off to college in one place and you actually didn’t know where daniel had decided to go
  • and when you glanced over to see him, the center of a crowd of whistleting and cheering students, you smiled and in your head said what you thought would be your last goodbye to him
  • ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,but that wasn’t the last time seeing daniel
  • upon entering college, you had packed all your things into two huge suitcases and standing on campus you were trying to figure out what to do with them
  • when a hand touched your shoulder and you jumped
  • “need help?”
  • you turned and,,,,,almost fell over,,,,,,,
  • there was kang daniel, slightly taller but still the same from highschool
  • “y–you–go here?” you squeaked and he grinned “i do, i wanted to tell you but you disappeared on me on grad day.”
  • he pouted and you could literally hear your heart crack within your chest
  • you opened your mouth to apologize, but daniel shook his head, picking up one of your heavy luggage’s with feather-like ease
  • “you can make it up to me with a date.”
  • he grinned, beginning to walk in the direction of your dorm as you stood there - dumbfounded
  • “a—–a date?!??!?”
  • you called out after him and only heard him laugh
  • “ive been meaning to ask you since we were in highschool, but now is as good as ever?”
  • you stood there, but then chased behind him, your poor suitcase clunking behind you
  • “really? since highschool?” you asked, finally caught up to him and daniel only shrugged
  • “i thought you’d figure out i liked you, since hey i literally dropped all the hints in the world.”
  • you furrowed your eyebrows, “like what?!?”
  • daniel stopped and leaned a bit, his closeness made your heart race and somehow you felt like daniel knew what effect he had on you
  • “i let you meet my cats. only special people get that privilege.”
  • you blinked and daniel leaned just a bit closer, before pulling back with a chuckle. 
  • you wanted to say something, that meeting someone’s cats is not an indicator of flirting, but your heart was telling you to just be happy - you afterall,,,,,were going to go on a date with kang daniel

cheshire-kat25  asked:

So I've been thinking a lot recently about how Pidge has a laptop and it got me thinking of Lance going through his stuff and finding his phone and listening to voicemails from his family and starting to cry 'cause he hasn't heard their voices in so long and the team finds out and Pidge modifying his phone so he can call his family and idk I just want Lance to be happy and I want his family to know he's not dead ya know?

I am in love with this and the langst (sorry if it took a while!). I hope you like it!!
~~~~~
The team always teased Lance for always having his phone on him. He always made sure it was fully charged, fully fictional, and in his pocket wherever he went. Pidge would pick on him and say, “You know it doesn’t even work here Lance. I don’t think there’s any signal in space. Looking at pictures of cute girl?” Lance would always brush it aside and just weakly chuckle. “Something like that Pidgeon.” What the team didn’t know was that Lance was able to look at all the pictures, all the texts, and more importantly, all the voice mails. His mama always preferred calling, only texting when she had to. This led to multiple voicemails on Lance phone. Lance would stay up at night, when the homesickness was just too much, and listen to the voicemails on repeat. “Hola, mijo! I know you’re probably in class right now, but-Teo! Let go of your sister’s hair!-anyways, I hope you having fun at the Garrison! Your making you mama and papa proud, Lance! Kids, come say goodbye to your hermano!!” Multiple little footsteps could be heard. “BYE LANCE!!” Click. Tears fell against the screen of the phone. Lance was too tired and hurt to try to stop them, letting his grief wash over him. Lance began crying harder, throat catching on his ragged breaths as he clutched the phone to his chest. Blood roared in Lance’s hear, so loud that he didn’t hear the knock on his door. “Hey, Lance. Shiro wanted me to-oh quiznak, Lance?!” Keith rushed forward, gently grabbing Lance’s face and lifting it towards him. “Lance, what’s wrong?! Are you okay?!” Lance shook his head, trying to pull away. Keith held him there. “Lance, just tell me what’s wrong!” Keith brushed away the heavy flow of tears with his thumbs. Lance weakly gestured to his phone. “You’re phone that’s what you’re-” Keith was cutoff as the voicemail played over again. Keith listened until it had ended. Keith looked up at Lance, who began to cry even harder, letting the sobs rock his entire body. “Oh Lance…” Keith pulled Lance into a hug, holding him tight. “You’ll get to see them again, I promise. Even if the last thing I do.” Lance just held on to him tighter, not trusting his voice to speak.
~~~~~
Lance was in a panic. “Where is it, where IS IT!?!” Lance’s room was a mess, but it was nowhere to be found. He rushed out of room and ran to the dining room where all the other Paladins were. The team heard Lance come in and was about to greet him, but stop when they say his current state. His hair way disheveled, bags under his eyes, and he was still in his pajamas, which were heavily wrinkled. Shiro looked at him with concern. “Lance, are you alri-” “Where is it?!” Lance shouted, causing them to jump. “I can’t find it! It’s not anywhere in my room!!” Lance ran his fingers through his hair, making it more disheveled. “I’ve looked everywhere and I can’t find my….phone.” Lance watched with wide eyes as Pidge pulled Lance’s phone out of her pocket. “Keith told me about your phone. I’ve made a few modifications, and with Hunk and Coran’s help, we’ve got it working. Although, you can only make a call that lasts about two minutes.” Lance turned his gaze to Keith, who was starting to blush. “Don’t say anything, Lance. You would’ve done the same if it were any us.” Lance smiled gently at him. He turned his gaze back to the phone, and slowly reached for it. With shaking fingers, he dialed a familiar number. He put the phone against his ear, hearing it ring four times. “Hola?” Tears sprung in his eyes and he let out a shaky breath. “Mama.”

hubby - tom h.

Originally posted by spookymalfoy

author’s note: wow okay I’ve never written for tom holland before but here goes nothing??? I hope you don’t hate this but on the off chance you do, pls hate silently (read more bar is added because I wrote out what come to mind for Tom’s proposal and it made everything look so much longer lmao) 

Also, SARAH I DID IT! CONSIDER ME HYPED™ @cuteparkers


  • Okay but like
  • Can we all just take a minute to imagine what marrying Thomas Stanley Holland would be like
  • Just getting engaged to that boy would be magical
    • He’d have this whole big thing planned
      • Literally every member of the Holland family plus Harrison would be involved in putting things together because if we’re being honest they all loved you just as much as Tom did

Keep reading

Imagine

Person A is a heavy reader. Person B isn’t. Person A usually reads the stories to Person B when they need to calm down, from what it is, Person A never asks. Person B often falls asleep to the stories from Person A’s mouth, and can never stay up long enough to finish the stories, so all they know is the (mostly) happy beginnings, and never the ends. 

Person A gives Person B their favourite book, one that’s been with them for a long time. The book has obvious signs of the love and importance it had on Person A’s life, but they know that it’s Person B’s favourite story. 

You see, Person B might not notice, but Person A always keep a check of how long it takes for Person B to fall asleep when they’re reading a book. Sometimes it’s within the 3rd chapter, other times it’s on the 23rd. But when Person A reads this book to Person B, they notice how Person B struggles to stay awake, and is always concentrating so hard on not giving in to the slumber. Person A once asked Person B if they wanted to start from the middle of the book this time (because god forbid they say, ‘Where we left off’ because that means they’ll know when they fell asleep and that’s a conversation for a later (or never) time) but Person B always politely declines and says with the sweetest voices, “No, I want to hear your voice as much as possible.” 

Person B shakily accepts the gift, and promises to give it back, but Person A declines and says, “No, you can have it. It’s yours. I know how much you love it, almost as much as I do. So here, read it, you fall asleep before the ending anyway.” And laughs it off, albeit awkwardly. 

A few days pass since the gift giving, and Person B has had minimal contact with Person A. Then one day, as Person A was in the quiet corner of the library, back hunched over a book and nail biting in progress, Person B comes in and sits in front of Person A. 

//“The ending haD ME SHOOK AF BRUH OAGJBAWLJRBGLKJBLEWRKJGB”//

“I understand why this book is your favourite, and I don’t want to copy you but it’s now my favourite too.” Person B says quietly as they watch Person A’s eyes scan 20 words a second. Person A nods slightly. “So I have a gift for you too.”

Person A looks up from the book and stares at a copy of the same book, looking newer and less worn, but still holding the words that made them laugh, cry, and die in a matter of 2 pages. Person B smiles, and says, “It’s my copy, I bought it the day before you gave me yours. I only read the first part, because it’s all I knew in your voice. So I could never bring myself to read the rest.” Person B laughs awkwardly. 

“I mean, I don’t usually read books. But when you read them I suddenly picture myself there, in those pages, except it doesn’t feel like just pages, it feels real. My voice can’t do that, but yours can. So… When you gave me the book you had read to me over and over again, suddenly I could picture you, holding the book exactly the same way you are now, eyes scanning over the words so quickly that your voice fails to catch up, and the small hint of a smile in your voice and the sparkle in your eyes, and, believe me, I didn’t understand why people fell in love with reading but I think I’m in love with your reading. Whether it’s silent scanning of words, or quiet whispers of every second word, or when you voice the characters’ dialogue yourself to get the emotion right in your head because you haven’t heard the words said like that before, or when your reading it to me, I’m in love with you and your reading.” 

Person B is blushing furiously and Person A is //dyING AF BECAUSE ERMAGHWRHGDHGAHGRHGA// still waiting, listening, knowing that this isn’t the end of what Person B wants to say.

“You’re the person people in books fall in love with,” Person B says with a quiet voice.

(Note from author: Hi, this is me coming back after ‘leaving’ this account. I actually never left and I knew a lot of people started following me AFTER i said I wouldn’t be back, so thank you! Also the words in between the // are just my mind going weird and wanting to add in something really stupid haha, love ya’ll.)

anonymous asked:

Genji, Mccree, Mei with an s/o struggling with their anxiety or self doubt about themselves like they feel like a burden? I'm very sorry I've just had a rough month

Sweetheart, please don’t apologize. I understand having a rough time, whether it be with friends, family, work, school, or just yourself. I’d be happy to write for you, and if you ever want to just message and chat, I’m willing to lend an ear. I just hope maybe this cheers you up a bit

Mei


  • Like any woman, she is observant
  • So even when you think your hiding your stress and anxiety and those thoughts in your head…she can tell
  • Mei notices when your eyes burn with self loathing when you make a mistake
  • Has seen how your fingers dig into your skin till you bleed, heard you berate yourself under your breath, seen the bitter prick of tears in your eyes when you face obstacles
  • It breaks her heart every time
  • Being Mei, she isn’t sure how to help you but she takes it upon herself to try and find a solution
  • Finally, Mei decides that although she cannot take away your fears, your anxiety or those doubts that fill you, but she can try to bring a smile to your face and show you that even if you don’t believe in yourself, she does
  • One day after a rather long and grueling mission, you were feeling at one of your lowest points when you walked into your room. It took you a moment but you noticed something on the bed.
  • There was a single white lily flower, a box of your favorite chocolates, and a jar. Lifting the jar, you saw a note on the top. ‘Please take out on piece of paper every evening. Take out two on the worse days.’
  • Opening the jar, you saw it was jam packed with papers. Taking one out, you unfolded the small pink paper and you gasped softly. ‘Your smile takes my breath away!’. For a moment you stared, and then hold the paper close.
  • Reaching in, you pulled out one more. The yellow slip opened to reveal a picture of you and Mei making snow angels in the winter beneath a big pine. It read ‘You’ll always be my snow angel’.
  • Holding the two papers and staring down at them, you felt slowly all the negative emotions melt away. Tears filled your eyes, and you didn’t make a noise as a pair of arms pulled you close from behind. Turning, you buried your face into her neck and knew that in her own way, she was trying to make you feel better.
  • “Thank you.”

Genji

  • More then most, Genji can understand doubting in yourself and feeling anxious about things. When he became a cyborg, between the hate he harbored for his brother and the confusion and doubt of being a cyborg, Genji had been a mess
  • Of course, he also knew it was different for everyone. So it tore him apart seeing how you struggled with yourself
  • Especially when you seemed to devalue yourself and your hard work
  • A lot of the time he tried to give you as much praise or encouragement as he could, to show you that your effort was noticed but unfortunately, it never seemed to really hit home with you
  • One day Genji went to check on you after being called by Ana. Apparently you had a melt down during the Bombs Activation and Deactivation class. Automatically the two wanted to make sure you were okay
  • As he came up to the door, Genji stopped when he heard your voice. Peeking in, he could see you on the bed with your head in your hands, crying
  • He heard as you told yourself that you were worthless, that you would never be able to contribute to the team. That you’d only let them down.
  • Unable to bear hearing this, Genji shoved open the door. Startled, you sat up but before you could do anything, you were pulled tight against his chest. His hand brushed through your hair and you heard him take a shuddering breath
  • “Don’t say that. I beg you. y/n, i know…that you cannot see what i do. But i see a strong, selfless hero who will do anything to protect the people around them,” he said in your ear, needing you to know how he saw you, even if you didn’t see it yourself.
  • Taking off his mask, he lifted your chin and gave you a soft kiss. You couldn’t understand why, why he was so sweet to you when you felt like you weren’t good enough for him or Overwatch.
  • But before you could speak, the tears still sliding down your face, Genji caressed your cheek. “Do you know what i admire most about you? Its the fact that you try your very best at everything, no matter how impossible the task, because whats most important to you is the people you protect and defend. Mistakes might be made…but what makes a hero is that you will continue to fight and stand up for those who can’t,” Genji told you quietly.
  • Slowly, as those words rolled over and over in your head, the frustration and anger towards yourself ebbed away. Genji was always so kind to you…it was impossible not to feel the love radiating from him
  • “I just don’t want to let you down,” you whispered.
  • Genji smiled tenderly and shook his head.
  • “You could never let me down, y/n.”
  • And with that, you knew that he would always support you.

Mcree

  • Jesse could always tell there was something wrong but a lot of the time, he couldn’t exactly put his thumb on what the problem was
  • A little less observant, most of the time he thought you were happy with how well you were doing
  • It was like he was your own personal cheer leader, except instead of pom-poms he had pistols
  • But a few months into your relationship he started to really notice that something was up with you, the way your face fell at moments or the way you’d stare off into the distance looking troubled, and all Jesse wanted was to make it better
  • Feeling restless one night, something kept niggling at the back of his mind. A thought, or perhaps more of a feeling
  • To stop his paranoia, Jesse got out of bed wearing nothing but his pajama bottoms and his belt, before heading to your room to check up on you. Honestly, he expected everything to be okay. But in the dark room, as he opened the door slightly, he heard quiet sobs
  • Slowly, Jesse pushed open the door and slipped in, shutting it without your notice. Seeing you curled up in the fetal position on the bed made him want to cry too, but right now his job was to soothe you
  • You jumped as the bed shifted and a warm, muscled body pressed against you. Strong arms pulled you close, and the feeling of a beard tickled your neck. That and the scent of cigars told you who it was even before he spoke.
  • “Don’t cry, darlin’,” Jesse whispered, his voice soft with worry. His Texas accent was soothing, as was the deep lilt of his voice.
  • The fact that he’d caught you in the middle of a break down embarrassed you. Without a word you tried to hide in the pillow but he was having none of it, pulling the pillow away.
  • Turning you, Jesse moved to sit against the headboard with you in his lap. “Don’t hide from me, sweetheart. Please tell me whats wrong. I might be a dumb cowboy but…but i still want to be here for you,” he murmured. It only made you cry harder but Jesse just rocked you and rocked you into his arms.
  • Silently he just rubbed your back as you let out all the tears that had been building up for such a long time. Finally, when the dams were empty, you admitted to Jesse the truth behind your feelings and how you were always worried of failure or screwing up, and how you doubted in your capabilities. Jesse didn’t speak a word, humming an old western tune softly in the darkness as he pet your hair and held you. Finally, you finished and waited for him to make fun of you.
  • It took a moment but Jesse pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Its not stupid to be afraid to screw up,” he said softly. “Its not stupid to doubt yourself. What your feeling is okay. That’s why you have me. I’ll always be there for you, baby. So please, no matter how dumb you think it might be….tell me what you feel, okay?.”
  • It felt strange, hearing Jesse say it was okay. This was the first time you’d told anyone how you felt. But as you laid there on his chest, exhaustion from the crying starting to fill you, you couldn’t help think that maybe it would be okay.
  • As long as you had Jesse there, maybe his love was all you would need to be able to push yourself in life.

anonymous asked:

Hello! How about a 90s grunge minghao au? ?? Since I've seen his pictures I can't stop thinking about it,,,, ;v; I think I've never loved a look more and I'm just hoping their song has some rock elements in it :)

my brain: you gotta write grunge minghao,,,,,,,you gotta 

  • joshua stares at both you and minghao. in his hand is the busted remains of what was once your favorite skateboard
  • decorated with fading weezer and flaming lips stickers, spitfire logos, and yellow chipped paint
  • you had loved that thing more than you loved yourself, but when joshua went - in a flat tone voice - “fess up, whose is this?”
  • you jerked your head toward your friend, “his. he was the one riding it in the hall so give him detention mr. prefect.”
  • joshua’s sharp eyes darted to minghao who was wearing the school issued button down, but also a bright red flannel over it - piercings in both ears (very against the rules) 
  • “you know me joshua - i drive to school, i dont skate.”
  • you gritted your teeth and tried to whisper that you’d break his discman headphones if he didn’t take the blame
  • but it was all in vain, joshua got up and took your poor board and coldly went “both of you get detention.”
  • when he was out of the room, you leaned over and pinched minghao’s ear - he swatted at your hand but neither of you meant it in a condescending way
  • you were just two,,,,,,,,,bad kids in high school. detention wouldn’t kill you
  • but then,,,,,,,,,you found yourself in detention - freezing your butt off
  • someone had decided to turn the room into antarctica and woozi, the other kid who’d gotten detention was fast asleep so he didn’t feel it
  • you on the other hand? were almost a popsicle
  • you had been wearing a denim vest over your uniform shirt, but it had been “confiscated” by that annoying prefect because the spikes on the back seemed like a “viable weapon” 
  • so you were stuck in your uniform - it had short sleeves 
  • you glared over at minghao, who looked cozy in his flannel, sketching something in the back of his notebook, chewing gum low enough that if someone came in they wouldn’t know
  • you shivered, and put your hands around yourself - “if i knew it was going to be this cold, i would have asked for cleaning duty instead of detention.”
  • you murmured and minghao nodded, but didn’t say anything. again you glared at the back of his bleach blonde head
  • he had dyed it and got yelled at, you wondered what was next - minghao getting a tongue piercing
  • somehow that thought made one wave of heat shoot up your face, but you ignored it 
  • suddenly, you could hear minghao turn in his seat, his eyes watching you shiver
  • you had become friends with him because he’d lent you the new pearl jam CD when everyone else lied that they didn’t have it. he was quiet, but he could be his own delinquent. you two had hit it off
  • “you could just ask.”
  • you flicked your eyes up to him “what?”
  • smiling, which was a rare sight with him, minghao shrugged off his flannel and threw it to you
  • it landed right in your lap and you looked at him “i don’t want-”
  • “you’re shivering. and if you die in here, who am i going to mess around with then?”
  • he turned back in his seat and resumed sketching something in his book
  • you were secretly so thankful as you pushed your hands through the huge sleeves, the warmth on your skin was welcoming
  • the smell,,,,,,,that familiar smell of minghao,,,, was welcoming too
  • you knew a lot of people liked him, he was hot and mysterious
  • you tried to pride yourself on the fact that you didn’t, you two were just friends ,,,,,,,, but the reality was you were lying to yourself
  • you did like him. a lot. even if you had tried to blame him for skating when it was more than obvious it was you. 
  • minghao,,,,seemed to favor you above other people too,,,,,you were sure it was friendly, but now sitting here wrapped up in his flannel as he sat in the cold with just the thin button down
  • you were beginning to think differently,,,,,
  • detention ended, you and minghao tried to wake that woozi kid up but he had just grumpily told you to piss off
  • you and minghao left the building and you were about to shrug off the flannel when he put out a hand
  • “you can keep it.”
  • you were going to make a face and say “gross”, but you didn’t. you just nodded and minghao took a step closer
  • he leaned in close, so close that you could smell him again - stronger since it was coming directly from his skin
  • he looked even more handsome up close,,,,almost to the point where you didn’t believe it was possible that his skin could be so smooth and his eyes could be such a storming brown,,,,,
  • you thought - for a split second - he was going to kiss you,,,,,his eyes had wavered on your lips for a bit
  • but instead he just dipped his hand in the pocket of the flannel to fish out the lighter inside
  • “you can’t keep this though.” he grinned, flicking it on for a second and then stuffing it into his pocket
  • you didn’t realize that your face was hot till he turned away
  • he was on his way toward the parking lot, an old beat up car that had belong to his dad was there
  • you stopped and sighed because you were going to have to walk home,,,,your board was done for 
  • “ill give you a ride” minghao exclaimed and you tried to seem displeased, but the smile on your face betrayed you
  • as you got around to the passengers side, minghao called your name
  • you looked over the hood at him
  • “you know i like you, right?”
  • you froze and minghao looked seriously at you
  • “d-d-did the cold get to your head loser?”
  • you managed, blushing as you got into the car and minghao only chuckled as he joined you
  • pulling out of the school driveway, you put on that same pearl jam album that had made you two friends
  • at a stop sign, you leaned over and kissed his cheek - it was still cold from detention
  • “i guess i like you too,,,,or whatever.” 

anonymous asked:

I'm in love with this blog, I've read all of the posts lol. Time for some angst! What would the DRV3 boys do if they had an argument/fight with their S/O, but when they decide to apologize, they were too late, because the S/O was now dead? (Murdered, suicide, you decide).

All of them?! Kudos to you Anon, my God that must’ve taken you quite some time haha. Welp, here’s your requested angst :3

There is like the smallest spoiler possible for Chapter 1 in Ouma’s part btw, nothing major though >_>

DRV3 Boys wanting to apologise after a fight only to find S/O dead

Shuuichi Saihara:

- “No S/O - san/kun! You don’t understand!”

- “Don’t understand?! Saihara - kun I-”

- He pinches the bridge of his nose before turning on his heel

- “Listen. I-I’m going to go for now”

- You watch as he leaves and slams the door, the small gust of wind causing your hair to fly back

- “Why…”

- You place a shaky hand on your mouth, doing your best to conceal the sobs escaping your lips

- You just stand there

- Stare at the blurry door

- Come back

~~~

- Why did I shout at them… 

- Saihara was pacing back and forth in his room

- I should apologise… I was being rather… God why did I even say that?!

- He quickly readjusts his hat before making his way back to you

- But that’s when he hears it

- A scream

- Or more precisely, Shirogane’s scream

- He runs as fast as his feet can carry him

- But then all he sees is red

- “S…S…S/O… san/kun…”

- *Ding Dong Bing Bong*

- I was…

- “A body has been…”

- I was the reason…

- “… Please make your way…”

- I was the reason you died.

Kaito Momota:

- “Come on S/O! Why do you seem so down all of a sudden?!”

- “I.. Well I was just thinking”

- “Thinking? About what?”

- “Wouldn’t it just be better to… Stay?”

- “You want to stay?”

- “N-No it’s not that I wa-”

- He grabs your shoulders and stares at you

- You always loved his eyes, those soft violet eyes always brought you comfort

- But now… They were staring at you with pure hatred

- “If you want to stay here, then be my guest but I’m not staying in this fucking place any longer than I have to.”

- He pushes you away before storming off

- “M-Momota - kun! It’s not what I mean I just don’t…”

- But he’s long gone by now

- “…Want anyone else to die…”

~~~

- “Dammit!”

- Momota winces as his fist collides with the wall

- The fuck are you thinking?!

- He sighs and takes a few deep breaths

- “No… I shouldn’t get mad, that’s not what heroes do!”

- He clenches his hand into a fist and with a nod he runs off to find you

- He spends 30 minutes looking for you, but it’s almost as if you’ve vanished

- He does manage to find someone though

- “Oi. Harumaki!”

- Harukawa looks up at him, only her facial expression is different… Is that… Concern?

- “You seen S/O?”

- She doesn’t answer, she just grabs him by the wrist and drags him over to your room

- The instant he sees that your door is fully closed he knows something is wrong

- He gives Harukawa a quick glance but she just turns her head to stare at the floor

- With a shaky breath he takes a step forward pushing the door open with his fingers

- The door creaks open, agonisingly slow and there you are

- You’re lying on the floor, motionless

- He tries to take a step towards you, but his knees don’t allow him

- He drops onto the floor, and only then does he notice a small bottle near your body

- Poison?… You drank poison?!

- He feels someone’s hand on his shoulder

- “I’ll go get the others. I’m… Sorry for your loss.”

Kiibo:

- He didn’t mean to shout at you

- He really didn’t

- But then you shouted back at him

- And it all kind of went downhill from there

- “You know what Kiibo - kun?! Why don’t you go to Iruma - san seeing as she’s obviously way better than me!”

- He didn’t understand

- Why would you say that?

- He began to lift his arm towards you but he was too late

- You ran off, your sobs echoing off of the walls

~~~

- He was asking everyone if they’ve seen you

- But each time someone said ‘no’ he felt his panic levels rising

- After checking the whole school building he made his way outside

- And that’s where he found you

- … Or well… At least someone who’s wearing your clothes

- The body before him was covered in blood, the head completely beaten and unrecognisable

- He screamed

- And he kept screaming, even after everyone gathered around the body

- “KIIBO - KUN! PLEASE STOP!”

- But he did’t, he couldn’t

- You probably died hating him

- He feels himself shutting down, literally and metaphorically

- You died hating him and it was all his fault

- The next time he regains consciousness is at the class trial

- He glances at your seat only to find your picture with a big X on it

Rantaro Amami:

- “Amami - kun!”

- “No S/O - san/kun I can’t do this anymore!”

- “Can’t… Do this?”

- “I’m tired of this, tired of watching my friends die, tired of being betrayed and lied to over and over again! So excuse me if I’m not fully on board with the ‘let’s work together to get out of here!’ idea!”

- You stare at him with wide eyes

- You open your mouth as if to say something but you just let out a frustrated sigh before storming out of the library

~~~

- It’s been a whole day since you last spoke to each other

- He planned to talk to you after everyone gathered together for breakfast

- Only thing is

- You weren’t there

- His first though was that the worst case scenario happened but… That’s impossible right?

- I mean… Monokuma didn’t even give them a motive yet!

- But just to be safe… He should ask someone

- “Hey, Tojo - san”

- “Hm? Is there anything you need Amami - kun?”

- “You, uh, you go into everyone’s room to clean them right?”

- “Of course. Is there something I missed in your room?”

- “No no! I was just wondering… Have you been in S/O - san/kun’s room?”

- She presses her lips together and gives him a long look before answering

- “It… It has been locked since yesterday evening.”

- “Y-Yesterday evening?!”

- “I assumed they were simply sleeping so I didn’t think much of it at the time but now… I’m rather worried”

- Him and Tojo quickly make their way back to the dorms

- As Tojo fumbles around for the right key he finds himself shifting his weight from one foot to the other

- They’re just… Sleeping right? That’s right, they just overslept, nothing to be concerned about

- Tojo gives him a quick nod before opening your door

- At first, it seemed like he was right. You were lying on your bed, your eyes closed and your lips parted open. You seemed peaceful

- But then, as he got closer he noticed that you weren’t breathing

- And that your expression wasn’t peaceful at all, you were trying to gasp for air

- His world froze, he just kept staring at you, waiting for you to open your eyes

- But you never did

- “..mi…n

- “…Am…ku…”

- “Amami - kun!”

- He shifted his gaze onto Tojo who was gently shaking him

- “… Can you… Leave me alone for now…?”

Kokichi Ouma:

- “S/O - chan there’s a difference between a plan, and wishful thinking”

- “Eh? What do you mean? I want to confront the mastermind!”

- “And do you know who that is?”

- “… No.”

- “Exactly.”

- “I don’t get you Ouma - kun, you said you hate this killing game and yet it seems you want it to continue!”

- “… I”

- “Were you lying to me again?!”

- You notice him clench his fist as he glares at you

- “Of course I wasn’t lying! Killing like this… I hate this game more than anything! And I hate the bastard responsible for it!”

- “Then try acting like it for once.”

- You turn on your heel and leave the room

~~~

- It was around midnight when he was picking the lock to your room

- He knew you’d attempt to try your ‘brilliant plan’ and he sure as hell is going to stop you

- The only problem is, he doesn’t actually know what it is

- You must have some sort of notes surely

- Once he finally manages to unlock the door he walks in

- Empty, of course it’s empty

- He fumbles around trying to find anything useful

- Nothing? Really? Jesus S/O - chan are you improvising?! 

- No. No time for that. Think Kokichi, where wo-…

- “The library… You’re in the library!”

- He runs, tripping over several steps along the way

- “S/O - chan!”

- He pushes the doors open, and practically falls in

- But it didn’t matter

- Your body was propped up against the moving bookcase, blood dripping from a cut on your neck

- “No…”

- Slowly, he made his way over to you and knelt beside your body

- “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

- He didn’t really know when he started crying, but the tears just wouldn’t stop

Gonta Gokuhara:

- He never meant to shout at you

- But you just weren’t listening to him

- And you just kept repeating how you’re probably going to be the next to die

- So… He had to do something to make you stop 

- “S/O - san/kun won’t die! Gonta promised to protect everyone, that of course includes you too!”

- “… Gonta - kun I-I’m going to go on a walk, clear my head a little. Okay?”

- “Mm but, if you need Gonta just-”

- “Yeah, I know”

- You give him a small smile and pat his arm before leaving the room

~~~

- He felt like he should apologise to you for what happened before but at the same time, you didn’t come looking for him

- So he respected your choice

- And so, he went to the garden, in order to try and find some insects

- “Come out Mr. Insect, Gonta just want to t-”

- “GONTA - KUN!”

- He looks up just in time to see Akamatsu running towards him

- “Hm? What is it Akamtasu - san?”

- She holds up a hand and bends over breathing heavily

- Once she regained her breath she looks up at him with concerned eyes

- “We’ve… Found a body”

- Gonta instantly goes pale

- “Where?”

- “The pool”

- Gonta simply picks up Akamatsu and asks her to hold on as he sprints towards the pool

- Once they’re outside the entrance he stops

- “Hey, Gonta - kun it’s okay…”

- Akamatsu gets off of his back and takes one of his hands in hers, giving it a small squeeze before pushing the door open

- The instant he saw the body he froze

- The body was soaking wet and the face had a somewhat of a blue colour

- S/O - san/kun didn’t know how to swim…

- He just stood there his eyes never leaving the body

- Why?…

- Why couldn’t Gonta… Protect you?

- He promised he would… He promised he would protect everyone… You even told him you were scared of being next!

- GontaFailedGontaFailedGontaFailedGontaFailedGontaFailedGontaFailed

Korekiyo Shinguuji:

- He didn’t really know what happened

- It was all too fast

- He just remembers you shouting at him and throwing the book he gave you on the floor before leaving him alone in his lab

- He thought about calling after you, but it was pretty clear you didn’t want to talk to him 

- So he decided the best course of action would be to wait

- He tried to recall what could’ve sparked the argument but no matter how much he thought about it, he just couldn’t figure it out

~~~

- He was just organising the books on the bookshelf

- He didn’t really know what time it was, but it must’ve been somewhere around nighttime

- But then he heard a ‘thud’, and it sounded close

- As soon as he opened the door to his lab, a strong metallic smell hit his nose

- “This can’t be good…”

- Carefully, he made his way down the creaky hallway

- Everything seemed normal, well that is, until he stepped into a puddle

- … A red puddle

- “Ah, it seems I’m getting closer…”

- His gaze was now glued to the floor and sure enough, there was more blood

- The trail managed to lead him to the stairs and what he saw shocked him

- Bloody hand-prints were everywhere and from the looks of it, they were heading up… But if that’s the case then… Where’s the person?

- He inhaled deeply before silently walking down the stairs

- Once he reached the bottom, everything became clear

-  In the dim lighting, he could make out the shape of a person

- They were curled up, and it seems like they weren’t moving

- Approaching cautiously he walked towards them and then stopped

- “S/O - san/kun?!”

- He knelt beside you and placed his fingers onto your wrist

- Nothing

- He closes his eyes and just holds your wrist

- “Don’t worry S/O - san/kun… I’ll avenge you, I promise.”

- He pulls down his mask and places a kiss to your forehead before standing up with newfound determination

Ryoma Hoshi:

- “What do you mean there’s no point?!”

- “I have nothing left to seek out there”

- “Don’t you… Want to get out to be with me?”

- “Well think about it S/O! Even if I get out of here, I’m going straight to prison, what’s the point of even trying?”

- “So… Are you saying I mean… Nothing?”

- “… I… I don’t know”

- “You.. Don’t know… I see…”

- You bit your lower lip trying your best to stop any sounds escaping

- “Then I… No nevermind. Goodbye Hoshi - kun”

- You speed-walked out of his lab and once you were sure he wouldn’t be able to hear you, you burst into tears

- “No… Point in leaving huh…”

~~~

- He didn’t really know what he was doing

- For some reason he was just hitting balls back at the machine that fired them

- Why the hell is he playing tennis right now?!

- But.. It helped him calm down, organise his thoughts

- “It seems… I still have ways to go. How could I say that to them? They’ve done nothing but support me in this hell hole.”

- He throws the racket to the side before going on a hunt to find you

- For some reason, it proved to be a rather hard task

- He was about to head into the dorms when he heard a sound of something hitting the ground, hard

- “It came from outside..”

- He ran as fast as his small feet can carry him but once he actually got there, he almost fainted

- It was you, your body was on the floor, blood pooling around your broken limbs

- It was evident you were crying, the tears on your face were still wet

- He let out a shaky breath as he collapsed onto the floor

- It’s his fault

- His fault you killed yourself

- His fault that you lost your will to live

- H-… He killed you

- He didn’t really noticed when the others arrived

- But he just kept muttering the same thing over and over again

- “I killed S/O. I killed S/O. I killed S/O. I killed S/O. I killed S/O. I killed S/O. I killed S/O. I killed S/O. I killed S/O.”

- Soon after, he realised he was standing at his podium in the trial grounds

- “So… There’s really no other way?”

- “Mm… Without a doubt, L/n  - san/kun… Willing jumped off of that roof”

- All eyes turned to Hoshi, he was still muttering the same thing

- “N-NO! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! I KILLED THEM! I KILLED S/O!”

- “H-Hoshi - kun!”

- “Vote for me! I killed them! I made them jump! It was.. It…”

- He slammed his fist on the podium, tears making their way down his face

- “Please… Please just… Execute me…”

- He turned to look at your place, you were smiling on the picture

- But… Because of his own stupidity… He’ll never see that smile ever again

anonymous asked:

Can you help please? I've seen people and posts complaining about BTS collating with the Chainsmokers but I don't understand what all the fuss is about - I don't listen the the chainsmokers so I have no idea what is going on, can you please slap and explain it to me and others who are confused? Thank you

For starters, the Chainsmokers are a pretty big DJ producing duo that have blown up in the American charts for a few of their songs. They have been criticized a lot due to how repetitive all of their songs seem, specifically with the beats and instrumentals. They’ve also come under attack after the recent racist comments they made towards Asians. When asked by an interviewer if they brought their dogs along with them to China, they joked around saying no because they didn’t want them to be eaten. There’s a stereotype that all Asians eat dogs which is absurd because in reality, a very small percentage do. It was very insensitive on their part for “joking” about it, especially since they are collaborating with BTS who are Korean and thus fall under as Asian. They’ve also publicly bashed other artists such as Lady Gaga and made egotistical comments about themselves and how they’re “influencing the industry, putting out songs that everyone copies.” It’s ironic considering they copied and essentially ripped off The Fray’s “Over My Head” with their song “Closer.” They also admitted that their main motivation in making music is getting girls rather than being genuinely passionate about creating music because they want people to recognize their hard work and ingenuity. (Read a whole twitter thread on them here) All of these things have painted a bad picture of them, especially in the eyes of ARMYs. So much so that many have canceled their preorders after hearing of their collaboration with the Chainsmokers for one of their songs on ‘Her.’ Personally, while I do understand that we don’t want our boys to be associated with people that have such a bad reputation, I think we should respect everything they do and that includes who they collab with. They seem geuinely happy and excited about the collaboration so as true supporters of them, we should respect their decision and not get sidetracked from the fact that they have put in so much hard work and dedication into this album for us.

Title: Hello Again
Character: Danny Rand
A/n: Like I said, I love Danny’s character, he’s such a dork and deserves more love.

Also this’ll have a second part as the request was for them to meet and then end up together as well, so this one will focus on the reunion.

You whistled quietly under your breath as you kicked the door of your shop closed with your foot, your hands preoccupied with a few boxes of books that had just been shipped in. You placed them aside so you could remove your coat and begin opening the shop for the day.

You had several employees and a few assistants your siblings sent over to help with all the hassle, but you liked tonhave total control over the details of your work. So the bulk ended up on you.

Not that you minded, you always preferred to have something to keep yourself busy. Besides, it’s never that much of a sacrifice if you love doing it.

You continued to whistle as you started tearing into the boxes, going through the piles of books and separating them by their respective genres.

Once that was taken care of, you began shelfing them, taking them all by large bulks and putting them where they belonged.

Whenever you had enough put away you decided it was best to unlock the front doors and turn on the lights, people usually began coming in at this time and you didn’t want to keep them.

“Mornin’ (Y/n)!” You turned around to see one of the older girls who worked the morning shifts.

You smiled at her and motioned her over to you. “Good morning,” You greeted as you grabbed one of the last piles of books. “Do me a favor and but these in the back room, they’re for the history section. I can take care of the other pile.”

“I’m on it.” She said, taking them from you and disappearing into the shop.

You sighed and finally took the last set of books that were to be taken the front shelves.

What you didn’t see was that a young, scraggly looking man stopped right infront of the shop window, his hands peering inside and glued to you as he watched you move about.

A sudden knocking noise on the glass caused you to drop the books onto the ground. You looked over to the source of the sound and saw that same man looking at you with a wide smile as he waved frantically.

You titled your head as you looked at his face, you hadn’t seen him in the shop before but something about his smile made him look familiar.

You smiled back at him as you returned his wave, then making a gesture for him to come inside.

Crouching to the ground to gather the books, you found yourself laughing at how scared you were by a simple knock on the window.

•~•

Danny couldn’t believe it, after several failed attempts at talking to the other Meachum siblings he managed to see you walking around inside a bookshop.

Sure it took him a minute to recognize you. The last time he saw you was when you were children, you’re the youngest Meachum child, so you would have been nine when his plane crashed.

But for a brief moment Danny saw your eyes and there was no mistaking who you were.

Then memories of you and him playing imaginary games on his room, and being a much better monopoly player than your brother. He was very fond of you as a child, and from the looks of it not much had changed.

Still, he was surprised with how wealthy your family was, you were dressed in simple clothes, jeans and a loose-fitted blouse weren’t really good business attire.

Without any better way to catch your attention, Danny found himself knocking on the shop window.

He flinched a little when you dropped a thick stack of books, but it was soon forgotten when you returned his smile and pointed to the door.

His heart stopped.

Did you really remember him?

You certainly didn’t need to tell him twice, Danny was inside the shop in seconds.

He was greeted with a large room completely drowned by books, tall shelves lined the walls as well as several tables scattered on the ground. String lights hung from the ceiling and along a banister that lead to a second floor.

“I’ll be with you a moment.” He heard a voice call, and turned to see you climbing up on a tall ladder to a higher shelf.

“No worries.” He said, watching you descend from the ladder before you walked over to him with a smile.

“Hello, is there anything I can help you with?” You asked him while you started to pull your hair back in a bun at the nape of your neck.

Despite the fleeting feelings of disappointment that you didn’t remember him. He could help but stare at you.

The last time he saw you, you had chubby cheeks and glasses that were far too big for your face and would constantly slip down your nose.

But now you were a young woman, with the same pretty eyes and friendly smile.

You were taller, but now Danny still managed to tower above you.

“Sort of,” He started, now becoming very of aware of how disheveled his appearance was. “Look this is going to sound absolutely mental but it’s me, Danny Rand.”

Your smiled dropped just a tad, and you folded your arms. “I’m sorry?”

“Don’t you remember, Danny Rand?” He said as he reached out to you, only for you to retreat. “Oh come on, we used to be partners in crime and always try to get your brother in trouble.”

Your eyes clamped shut as painful memories that you spent a long time repressing came flooding back. “Listen, I don’t known what joke you’re trying to pull but I don’t find it funny.”

Danny wanted to pull at his hair in frustration, why couldn’t people just hear him out?

“I’m not trying to be funny,” He said, reading the hurt expression in your eyes, he stared to think back on things only the two of you would know. “You have to believe me, Cricket.”

Your eyes snapped to meet his, your expression softening a great deal as he said that nickname.

Not even your siblings knew that Danny called you by that, it was a secret code name between the two of you.

You stepped closer to the man, your gaze narrowing as you got a proper look at him. He held your gaze and you noticed he had the same blue eyes.

Without warning, you grabbed into his hand. “Come with me.” You ordered, dragging him into the nearest supply closet you could find.

You flicked on the lightswitch and started to hold onto your head. Even with your eyes closed you knew Danny was about to speak so you hushed him before he got the chance.

“Be quiet,” You inhaled deeply before opening your eyes to meet his. “If you’re really who you say you are, tell me why Danny gave me that nickname.”

Part of you hoped he was lying, that he was some raving lunatic who was just trying to get a rise out you.

But the more you looked at the man in front of you, the more you saw of his mannerisms and expressions, you saw Danny.

You were young when his family plane crashed in the Himalayas, but you still remember the boy who would give you piggy back rides and do stupid puzzles with you.

“You had this book when you were really little, maybe three or four years old,” Danny started, his brows furrowing in the center as he recalled the memories. “It was by Eric Carle, uh, ‘The Very Quiet Cricket’ right?”

He didn’t even need to clarify if you believed him because before he could even speak you tackled him into a hug.

“It is you!” You said, your arms were wrapped around his neck as you pulled him to you.

Danny could’ve cried right then and there.

Finally, someone believed him.

He pulled you in close as well, his nose burrowing itself into the crook of your neck. “It’s me, it’s Danny.”

You pulled back from him as your hands cradled his face. “Hi!”

Danny laughed, leaning into your hold. “Hello.”

“God, I was such a bitch to you before, I’m so sorry, if I had known-” You were saying all of the incredibly fast, and Danny had to cut you off before you talked yourself into a frenzy.

“It’s fine, you believe me and that’s what matters.” He assured you.

“Look at you,” You said, your hands running through his messy beard and his curly hair. “You look so…different now.”

He was about to reply when he remembered where you both were standing. “Aren’t we gonna get in trouble for being in here?”

“What? No, I own this bookshop,” You told him, shutting off the light. “But you’re right, we can go back to my place.”

“Wait what?”

•~•

You let your workers know you were taking the day off, then you drove Danny back to your house.

“I still can’t believe, after all this time,” You said over your shoulder as you entered your front door, throwing your coat onto the rack before disappearing into one of the rooms.

Danny took the opportunity to look around, it was exactly the kind of place he could picture you living. Just like your shop, there were books everywhere, and you had several paintings and decorations hung up on the walls.

You used to always complain about how empty your family house was, for a wealthy family the decor was always a ‘minimalistic nightmare of black and silver’ in your own words.

But your place felt like a home, with bright colors and knickknacks as far as the eye could see.

“Have you spoken to Joy and Ward yet?” You asked him once you sat him down in your living room with a hot mug of tea.

“That’s a funny story,” Danny said as he took a drink from the mug. “They’re not really interested in seeing me right now.”

You sat down in the chair across him. “Why not?”

“They don’t think I’m who I say I am,” He said as he set the tea down and looked at you with a warm smile. “You’re the first person actually.”

“Really?”

“Though I had a feeling if I found you, you’d understand,” He said, leaning his chin in his hand. “You and I understood each other.”

You smiled through your tea mug. “I remember, all those times we’d play hide and seek in the house, I could always find you.”

“I always let you find me,” He corrected, watching you laugh with the same crooked smile you had when you were little. “Look at you now, all grown up.”

The two of you shared a comfortable silence for a few minutes before you spoke up again. “I have to ask though, what are you doing here?”

Danny leaned back in his chair. “I’ve come to get my life back, and you’re the only one who can help me.”

Stay With Me (Dallas x Reader)

Ayo! That Darry oneshot was awesome! I was wondering if I could get a DallyxReader oneshot where the reader and dally are a couple, and the reader is really mature, and motherly so the gang teases dally and Darry the the reader should be with Darry instead of Dally. (Darry blushes alot cause he has a crush on reader) Dally gets upset and the reader comforts him and assures that she loves him? If you don’t want to write this it’s perfectly fine since oneshots take forever to write. Thank you!!!             

and

make an imagine with dallas pleaseee!!!!!

Warning(s): Fluff, lots of angst, DALLAS CRIES, swearing, female!reader


You threw your head back in laughter, the back of your head grazing your boyfriends’ shoulder as your body shook with laughter. Dallas instinctively wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you, as he shook his head and a small smile playing on his lips. Two-Bit smiles cheekily as the group roars with laughter at his story, even Darry manages a smile at Two’s bashful story.

You wiggle your fingers that are laced with Dally’s playfully as he rests his chin on the top of your head. You comfortably slump into the curve of his body and your bring your intertwined hands up to your lips. You blush as you felt Ponyboy’s watchful stare glance to you and your boyfriend’s affectionate position on the stairs of the Curtis porch. You knew it was weird for the boys to see Dallas be affectionate, but you appreciated them not drawing so much attention to it.

You feel Dallas shift behind you and he slowly pulls his hands away from you. You frown at the cold absence of his hands and lean forward to allow him room to readjust himself. But instead of your boyfriends big hands pulling you back into his embrace, you felt the lack of his warmth as his tall frame stood up and towered over you. You look up at him curiously, only to see him pull out a lighter and consume the small space between you two with the smell of a gagging and familiar smell; tobacco. You sigh heavily as he side steps your form and makes his way across the lawn to go sit on the curb. You wave your hand through the air to rid the atmosphere of the thick and lingering smell.

As soon as Dallas was without earshot, the boys turn to you with eyes hungry for new gossip. You roll your eyes and run your hand down your face, annoyed with your boyfriend and annoyed with the questions you knew the boys were gonna have.

“He’s smoking again?”

“I thought he stopped?”

“When did he start on the smokes again, I thought he gave that up?”

“He’s been good for months, what happened?”

You wring your hands anxiously as you shrug. “I don’t know. He’s started doing a lot of things he said he’d quit, lately.” You were indirectly referencing how he had started up drinking again, after he had been clean for months. You shake your head sadly, and lick your lips. You believe in your boyfriend and you know you can help him stop, but sometimes Dallas just doesn’t want help. He was clean, for almost 7 months, and just randomly last week he had came home stone-cold drunk. He had slept the entire next day.

“Are you gon’ talk to him ‘bout it,” Steve asks. You throw your hands up in the air and shake your head.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Do you know how hard it was for him to stop the first time? The first time through  I threatened to leave him, told him I wouldn’t be with no man who smokes and drinks more than he loves his woman. Back then that was enough, but now, it’s like he couldn’t care less if I packed my shit and left,” you rant. You didn’t completely mean that. You know Dallas cares about you, but you also know that Dallas is selfish, and at the end of the day, Dallas will do, what Dallas wants to do. But at the end of your day, you’ll love Dallas, but not a drunk one.

“If I’m honest, completely honest, and I know how y’all girls love honesty for some reason,” Two-Bit jokes. You crack a smile. “I thought that you’d end up with a fella like Darry.”

A couple of the boys hummed their agreements as your eyes widen and you let a small laugh escape your mouth. Two used to joke about that before you and Dallas had gotten together, but never has he ever, said it in front of Darry or when your boyfriend was less that 20 feet away. You look up to see Darry’s usually composed face, engulfed in a very crimson blush. You look away before meeting his eyes and quickly try to extinguish that statement. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Darry, he was quite handsome, and once upon a time you did have a crush on him, but that was in the past and you were very happy with Dallas even if you did have your problems.

“That’s what I always thought, y’know ‘cause she’s so motherly and naggy,” Steve adds, winking at you.

“Right! She just acts like the mom around here, and we all know Darry’s Mr. Dad ‘round here, it’d just make more sense,” Soda even contributes.

“You guys would be a cute couple,” Tim says. You furrow your eyebrows, when did Tim get here?

 You open your mouth to debunk all the talk about an opposing relationship, however, before you could put all the comments to rest, you heard a voice clear itself, and your heart skipped.

“Yeah, I agree, they would be really damn cute together. In fact why don’t I just make it easier on you doll.”

You shoot up to your feet, stumbling down the few steps of the porch. Steve catches you by your waist as you trip and you flash him a quick smile. You stand up properly only to catch Dallas reeve the engine to his car and take off down the road. You groan and run your hand through your hair. The boys are silent as you stand there for a couple seconds, soaking in what just happened.

“We can take my truck and try and find him,” Darry says, breaking the silence. You let out a sharp, amused laugh.

“I, uh, actually don’t think that’s a good idea,” you counter. You knew you were being harsh, but harsh can be fixed. An out of control Dallas high on emotions, couldn’t be. You open your mouth to ask Steve to take you, but he seems to already have the same idea as he reeves his engine to his motorcycle. You cringe and chew on your bottom lip nervously as you slide on a helmet. Two-Bit catches your arm before you sling your leg over the bike.

“Listen, I-I’m sorry,” he mutters. You smile and pat his hand.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it Two, he’ll be okay. We’ll be okay,” you reassured him. You knew you’d have to come back and show him that you two were okay, or else he’d beat himself up for it, but right now you were worried about Dallas. You sling your leg over the bike and hold fast to Steve’s waist.

“Also,” Two-Bit says, ”Johnny says Dallas should be home, but if he’s not then he’s in town.”

Johnny comes up beside Two-Bit, his eyes certain, “He’s not expecting you to come after him,” he says simply. Johnny doesn’t blame you or anyone for Dallas being upset, that’s clear in his face, but you can tell by the urgency in his voice that he incredibly afraid for him.

“He may smoke and drink and say dumb shit, but you keep him solid. You keep him together, witho-” the rest of Johnny’s sentence is cut off by Steve roaring his engine impatiently. Johnny gets the hint and nods once before walking back to the group.

“Hang on, “ you hear Steve yell. His voice is muffled by the helmet, but he doesn’t have to tell you twice. You clench your eyes shut and wrap your arms as tightly as you can around him. You’re so caught up in trying not to fall off the damn bike that you don’t realize that you two have pulled into Dallas’ driveway.

You stumble off the bike and brace yourself against Steve’s shoulder as you steady yourself.Once you regain your balance you go flying up the porch stairs. The house is small and and poorly taken care of, so even though the door is locked, with a few jiggles of the doorknob it opens with ease. You walk through the door frame and scan the living room. You frown at his absence and continue through the house. You had been to Dallas’s house many many many times, you even had clothes and pictures of you two scattered throughout the house.

You skipped the rest of the rooms and bound up the stairs to his room, only to find it empty. You were about to turn and leave before remembering a crucial part to the house; the backyard. It was the only part of the house that Dallas essentially cared about. You and Dallas deemed it your guys’ “place” after spending countless nights out there. You make your way down the stairs and pull open the glass back door.

The sun is setting as you walk out onto the patio. Dallas is sitting on the swinging bench that you two had installed together almost a year ago. He’s bent over his knees with his palms in his eyes and fingers tangled in his hair. You feel a knot catch in your throat when you heard him sniffle. You hated seeing him cry, and you knew he wouldn’t come undone at something so small.

You slowly walk towards him and kneel on the ground in front of him. You slowly pull his hands away from his head and take his hands in yours. His palms are wet with tears and his bottom lip is swollen and red from where he was biting on it, a habit you realized months ago that he only did when he was nervous. He lets you take his chin in your hand and lift his head. His eyes are bloodshot and his hair is falling into his face. You bring his hands up to your lips and you kiss his red knuckles.

“Baby-” you start.

“Where’s your boyfriend? Don’t tell me he just dropped you off and left,” he mutters.

“Dallas Winston look at me,” you say sternly. He looks up at you from under his eyelashes and it takes a minute for you to reboot yourself. You hated when he did that, his eyes were so beautiful and brown, it struck you dumb every time.

“I do not, and never have wished to be with Darry instead of you,” you state. He rolls his eyes and tries to pull his jaw out of your grip.

“Dallas. Baby please,” you beg, tears pricking your eyes. Dallas turns back to your, his eyes searching your face. You never begged, and the desperation in your voice struck his heart. He never wanted to hear that tone in your voice again.

“I love you, and only you. I have never ever been happier with someone like I am every second that I’m with you. Even on the days that we fight, or the days where I wonder if we’ll make it, those days are better in every way, that a perfect day with Darry. Dallas, we are different, there is no denying that, but I swear on everything that I have ever loved, you are the man I want to be with.”

A new wave of tears hits Dallas and he turns his face from your hands and lets his hair fall into his eyes. You clutch his hand tighter, and try to catch his eye.

“It’s not that I don’ think tha’ you love me,” he mutters. You furrow your eyebrows, you open your mouth to ask him to elaborate but he continues anyway. He clears his throat.

“I jus’ don’ see…why? Why are you with me? Why aren’ you with a guy like Darry? What can I offa’ you that he can’t,” he asks, licking his bottom lip. You could tell this had been bothering him for a while, but you were confused at why this was just now coming up.

“Dallas Winston do you love me?”

It’s his turn to furrow his eyebrows out of confusion.

“Well yeah, what kinda question’s that,” his tone is slightly offended, and if this had been different circumstances, you would’ve laughed.

“Then you’ve just answered all your questions. Why am I with you? Because I love you and you love me, and as long as that continues to stay true, that will never change. Why am I not with Darry? If I wanted safe and certain, then that’s who’d I be with. But that’s not what I want, and he’s not the man I fell in love with. He’s not the one who can put up with me, on my worst and best days. He’s not the one who has loved me in the, you can’t possibly-,” you start to choke up, and have to take a few deep breaths before you can continue.

“Dallas you have loved me more passionately and unconditionally than I have ever hoped. You have are the thrill of my life that I have been waiting for. I don’t want safe, I want you. I want your recklessness, your impulsiveness, your anger, and your flaws. I want you, with all the good and bad that comes with it. And I’ll be damned before Darrel Curtis replaces you in my life,” you rant. He cracks a smile at the end. You smile and place your forehead against his.

“Well doll, I never knew you were so nuts for me,” he jokes. You chuckle and let your eyes flutter closed, happy to have your Dallas back.

“But y’know he really does have a thing for ya,” he adds after a few moments of blissful silence.

“Who? Darry,” you ask, peeling your eyes open to look at him. He hums he’s confirmation and you roll your eyes.

“You also had a thing for Cherry Valance, but how’d that work out,” you reply snarkily. He pulls his head back and rolls his neck.

“Let it go,” he yells, exasperated. You giggle and stand up and slide onto the bench next to him. You lay your head against his shoulder and sigh contently as he intertwined your fingers together and kissed your forehead.

“I love you.”

anonymous asked:

I know you don't write wayhaught but, i was wondering if you could write a soft and fluffy wayhaught cuddling fic? I've been in a big wayhaught mood lately soo

A/N: I have gotten a couple requests for these two, and since I love them as a couple and my boss (and half of my office) is out today…why not? Sorry if I haven’t quite gotten their characters down as well yet! It’s the first time I’m writing them

It wasn’t as though Purgatory stopped functioning when it snowed…no, they were too used to the bitter winters and blizzards to act like their American neighbors down south. But just because Waverly had lived there her whole life didn’t mean she had to like everything about the town—and winters? They were simply not her thing.

“Hey, baby! Wanna come keep me warm :)” Waverly texted Nicole on one particularly blustery afternoon.

Nicole hesitated. On the one hand, yes. All of the yes. But on the other hand, she was at work, and Nedley was finally trusting her enough to be in charge of the precinct when he was out, to take on bigger cases and supervise investigations. “Can it wait one hour for my shift to end?” Nicole sent back.

“Fineee…” A few minutes later: “I miss you.”

Nicole chewed on her lower lip. She missed Nicole too, and ever since they got rid of whatever that goo demon was inside of her, she’d wanted to spend as much time as possible with her girlfriend. Because now she tasted like her Waverly again, felt and acted like her Waverly—and not just sometimes, always. “I miss you too, sweetie,” Nicole sent back. “Counting down the minutes…unless you wanted to come here? Nedley isn’t in…”

Waverly grinned, glad to see that Nicole was still as excited about their relationship as she was, still as enthralled with her as she was with Nicole, still as insatiable when it came to the hours they spent together up in Waverly’s bedroom at the Homestead or in Nicole’s apartment or the Sheriff’s office or, a couple of times, in the backseat of Nicole’s police cruiser. “I’d love to, but it’s too cold.”

Nicole tried not to laugh, though all she could picture was Waverly bundled up, clutching her hot chocolate, complaining loudly about the not unseasonably cold winters in the town she chose to call home all these years. “I promise I’ll warm you up so soon!”

“Holding you to it!”

As soon as Nicole got off work, she drove over to the Homestead, stopping only to pick up a bag of the mini marshmallows she knew Waverly loved to add to her cocoa. “Waves!” she called up when the door didn’t immediately fly open.

“It’s open!” Waverly yelled.

Nicole popped her head through the door, pushing it shut and locking it back up—after all, Purgatory might be a small town, but it wasn’t the kind of place where she felt okay with whomever (or whatever) might creep through her door in the middle of the night.

“Where are you, baby?” Nicole yelled.

“Up in my bedroom,” Waverly called back.

Nicole grinned, wondering if perhaps the door had been left open to allow Waverly an entrance of sorts—maybe another surprise performance in that cheerleading uniform? She definitely wouldn’t mind an uninterrupted dance from a non-gooed Waverly.

But when she made it up the stairs, she was greeted with a very different sight: Waverly curled up in her bed, all four of her basic blankets wrapped around her with her bonus blanket draped across her lap. “Aren’t you just adorable?” Nicole laughed.

“What happened to beautiful and sexy?” Waverly pouted.

“Oh, definitely those too. Definitely. It’s just a little harder to tell when all I can see are your eyes and your nose,” Nicole teased.

“Mm, maybe you join me under the blanket?”

“I think that could be arranged…but what do you say to moving this party down to the first floor? I can make you cocoa, and you can pick a movie?”

“Can it be a documentary?” Waverly asked, suddenly perking up.

“If I get to snuggle in that blanket cocoon with you, it can be whatever you want.”

“Deal!”

A few minutes later, Nicole came out clutching two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, the bag of mini marshmallows tucked under her arm.

“You’re amazing,” Waverly gushed, reaching for the marshmallows and her mug, holding it close to her face and letting the steam warm her. “Have I told you that?”

“Mm…a couple of times. But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

“Good. Because you’re amazing. Now come and cuddle me! There’s a new History Channel documentary I’ve been dying to see.” Nicole tuned out a little bit while Waverly was talking, too distracted by how perfect Waverly seemed, gesturing excitedly with her free hand as she let her enthusiasm for the subject show.

Once they started the movie, Nicole tucked herself into the blankets behind Waverly, curling around her and draping an arm protectively across her waist. She trailed soft kisses up Waverly’s neck and across her cheeks, watching as small dimples appeared on Waverly’s cheeks with every teasing kiss.

By the time Wynonna got home, Nicole and Waverly had fallen fast asleep, curled into each other under a whole pile of blankets while Netflix’s “Are you still watching?” screen blinked in the background. Shaking her head in amusement, Wynonna tip-toed across the room, turning off the television and moving the empty mugs into the kitchen sink. As much as the idea of the baby scared her, she suspected that this little Earp was going to have enough mothers and love to last a lifetime.

anonymous asked:

prompt: it's javert's birthday and he's prepared for another day of work with no one knowing, and wishing someone would say something. He gets home exhausted and miserable but as he opens the door to the living all the Amis ad cosette and eponine and gavroche and valjean all pop out and they have a massive party with a massive cake and javert cries but only valjean sees

Since my usual incarnation of Javert doesn’t quite fit with this heartwarming prompt, I decided to be inspired by @actualplanetpluto‘s Dadvert (I hope you don’t mind Amara!)


It was not that he disliked birthdays, it was just uncomfortable. Javert always tried to keep his personal and professional life separate and that meant that most of his colleagues at the police station didn’t know it was their captain’s birthday. So today was just another Friday, with everybody at the station either looking forward to the weekend or lamenting their weekend shift. It was a long day too and rather tiring. By the time Javert is on his way home he is exhausted. Distractedly he checks his phone while unlocking his car. That the police station was devoid of birthday wishes did not bother him, much, but he hasn’t heard anything from his- from the kids either. Or from Jean… There are no messages on hid phone and he puts it away with a firm reproof towards himself. Not hearing from the kids is good, it means they are staying out of trouble for once. The drive home is quiet and it at least gives him the opportunity to recover some energy.

When he unlocks the door to his apartment, he frowns. Only one of the three locks is locked. He was rather hurried this morning but he never forgets to lock them all, it’s a routine, he doesn’t break routines. He opens the door. Everything is quiet…but the light is on in the living room. A small smile tugs at the corner of Javert’s mouth. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. “Is that you Parnasse?” He calls out.

“Awww,” the familiar, slightly snarky voice replies from the living room. “How did you know?”

Javert shakes his head, walking to the living room with a smile on his face. “Because you’re the only one that feels the need to break into my-”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Javert freezes in the doorway and stares at the veritable crowd of people in his living room. The crowd of people cheering at him in his living room.

Montparnasse is wearing his most obnoxious, delighted grin and has one arm around Jehan, who has their hands raised in a deaf round of applause. Beside them Marius is laughingly trying to calm down Gavroche, who is literally jumping with excitement.

“Look at your face!” Joly laughs triumphantly. He is sitting in one of Javert’s armchairs and Bossuet and Musichetta are standing on either side of it with happy but slightly guilty faces that clearly betray that they were just sitting on the armrests of said chair.

There’s a flash of light originating from Bahorel, who is holding a camera, that is immediately being snatched away from him by Feuilly. “Come on,” Bahorel complains. “I waited a fifty seconds.”

“Don’t let Parnasse take the credit,” Grantaire hoots, mostly obscured by Enjolras who is sitting on his lap. “Your boyfriend used his key.”

Javert hadn’t even seen Valjean yet. He is standing behind a table laden with food and drink, flanked by Éponine and Cosette on one side and Combeferre and Courfeyrac on the other. In the middle of the table sits possibly the biggest cake Javert has ever seen. At least the biggest homemade cake he has ever seen. It says “Happy Birthday Dad” in several colours frosting.

“I did use my key,” Valjean laughs warmly. “But this was hardly my idea. It was all I could do to convince them to keep the lights on.”

“I would like to say, just for the record, that I didn’t forget to lock the door properly. I was told to do it like this,” Courfeyrac says emphatically.

“Courf takes surprise parties very seriously,” Cosette smiles. “But Papa said we’d startle you.”

“You still startled me,” Javert says hoarsely. There’s a lump in his throat.

*Are you too startled to cut your cake?* Jehan signs.

“They wouldn’t even let me have some frosting!” Gavroche complains loudly.

“I think I can manage cutting the cake,” Javert says gravely. There is a smile wavering on his face that he’s pretty sure won’t leave him once he actually acknowledges it. He takes the knife Combeferre hands him, but before he can touch the cake there is a scuffle in the corner. Bahorel is trying to take his camera back from Feuilly.

“He doesn’t like pictures,” Feuilly protests.

“Just one,” Bahorel insists.

Javert glances through the room. From Valjean’s warm, quiet smile, past all the young, happy faces. “Tonight, Bahorel,” he says. “You can make as many pictures as you like.” He wants to remember this. All of it. He does dislike pictures of himself, but he’ll put up with them to have a proper memento of all of this.

No sooner have those words left his mouth or a host of smartphones are being raised in the air.

“I said Bahorel,” Javert groans.

The room fills with laughter and Javert can literally not help the grin on his face. He cuts the cake and gives Gavroche the first piece. The kids flock around him and with every piece of cake he hands out there are more birthday wishes coming his way. He nods and smiles and none of them expect a full answer. They just beam at him and retreat to various corners of the room with their cake and lemonade, leaving Javert at the table with Valjean.

“I hope all this isn’t too much,” Valjean says, sinking his voice. “After a whole day of work I mean. But they were all so excited…”

Javert shakes his head. “It’s-” He swallows. He blinks his eyes, trying to ward off the tell-tale prickling of tears. “Thank you.”

Valjean smiles, leaning towards Javert until their shoulders are touching. “Happy birthday, darling.”

None of the kids see how Javert wipes his eyes and when he finally turns around with own piece of cake and they start to sing, he is smiling too wide to raise any suspicions.

anonymous asked:

Prompt 100 bellarke: "I'm mad at you because I love you"

I’m sorry this took so very long, anon; I hope you still see it. I’ve been sitting on this for a while, but a lot of Life has gotten in the way of me polishing and posting it.

Bellarke, Canon-verse, ~1200 words, from this list.

On AO3.

*

Miller, leaning back in one of the plastic Dropship chairs, enjoying his off-shift hours in casual conversation with Roma and Mbege, is the first to hear them. It’s Clarke’s sharp “No!” that alerts him to trouble. Or intrigue, or both. 

He knows that voice. He knows that exact tone, in fact, from an Earth Skills project they worked on together when they were twelve. Even though six years have passed since then, he still feels a sharp jolt when he hears it—some combination of fear and annoyance and exasperation—like a ghost passing all the way through him and leaving him shivering in its wake. He holds up a hand and Mbege stops talking, mid-word.

“Did you hear that?” he asks, and tips forward in his chair again.

“You’re going to have to come up with a better argument than just stomping your foot at me, Princess,” Bellamy’s voice sneers, and Miller glances over to his friends again.

Roma just shrugs. “Bellamy and Clarke are arguing. So?”

It’s true that they’ve fought before and probably will again, but they’re usually semi-discreet about it. They’re both too proud for public scenes, and even more so since they claimed de facto leadership status of the group. This fight is something else, verbal combat on a whole new level. And pretty soon the whole camp is going to hear it—probably some Grounders too, at this rate, a thought that makes Miller’s jaw clench. 

“So, you’re not at all curious what it’s about?” he asks.

“No, not really,” Roma answers, and rolls her eyes so dramatically up toward the sky that Miller knows she’s lying through her teeth. A fight this loud is bound to end in swinging fists or hate sex and he wants as much of the story as possible, for future reference. When he levels her with a disbelieving stare and she just crosses her arms and bites her lip, he figures she does too.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hey J, I know you'll probably be full of fix it asks but... Would you do something with Alex and Maggie being the best queer moms ever? I'm not out to my family, but just hearing what they say sometimes makes me sick. Besides, Adrian is one of the best OCs I've ever read. Thanks for being such a great person.

He’s never been drunk before.

He’s never been drunk before, but god, is he drunk now.

He’s drunk and he thinks he might be seeing double, but he can’t be sure because he can’t exactly count.

He thinks he might need to throw up, but he can’t be sure because – no. No, definitely sure.

He needs to throw up.

He makes it to the bathroom and he texts Maggie from his knees.

It’s incoherent because looking at the screen makes him throw up more.

He nearly drops his phone in the toilet when it starts to vibrate.

Maggie’s picture shows up on his caller ID, and he grins faintly and mutters her name mildly and spits into the toilet.

“Detective Sawyerrrr,” he slurs once he figures out how to put his finger on the green button thing.

“Where are you?” she asks, and he thinks he might throw up again, because she definitely knows.

“Maggie, don be mad! Don be maaad, Maggie, is Latinx night and I didn’t mean to have this muchhh – I don’t even think I had that much, just – did you know you’re not supposed to drink super fast? Or mix drinks? I think you’re not supposta do those things.”

“I was gonna teach you to drink, Rodriguez, you couldn’t tell me you wanted to before this?”

“Well you coulda told me you were gonna teach me!”

“Adrian.” He can’t tell if she’s frustrated or smiling or worried or all of the above, but he definitely here’s Alex in the background.

“Hi Alex,” he calls, trying to wave before he remembers they can’t see him.

And suddenly the phone is out of his hands, and he looks up, and a friend he met through the queer center, Mateo, is crouching over him, running a damp paper towel over his lips with one hand, holding his phone with the other.

“Maggie?” he asks, and Adrian tries to grab the phone back, but Mateo shrugs him off easily.

“Mateo? Is he okay? Where are you guys?”

“Maggie, I’m so sorry, I lost track of him for just a few minutes, I thought only one beer couldn’t hurt him, but you know how cute he is, some people must have bought him drinks – “

“Mateo, you have a boyyyyfriend, don’t let Jordan hear you call me cuteee.”

“It’s okay, Mateo, it happens. Just tell me where you are and we’ll come get him. And get him some water, okay?”

Jordan greets them both outside the club when they roll up in Maggie’s car – which she bought exactly for situations like this – and she flashes her badge when someone says they can’t double park, and she flashes her badge when the bouncer asks for ID, and when he balks, she says something to him in rapidfire Portuguese, and Alex can translate enough to know that it’s something about letting underage kids in, letting underage kids drink, and don’t think she won’t be checking back in if they don’t take this warning very, very seriously.

Jordan and Alex exchange raised eyebrows before Jordan leads them to the men’s room.

“Lady, you can’t – “

Maggie doesn’t even bother, on the warpath, just flashing her badge again, but she’s kneeling on the ground next to Adrian and Mateo in an instant, and her eyes are suddenly so, so, so soft, and Alex is so, so, so wildly in love with her.

“Hey, bud,” she greets softly, her hands running over his hair, his collared shirt, after squeezing Mateo’s arm in greeting, in gratitude.

“Maggie,” Adrian slurs, barely awake, and Maggie nods and grins.

“He throw up more since I called?” she asks Mateo, and he shakes his head as he shifts to let Maggie take over holding Adrian somewhat upright.

“Alright Ade, I know this is gonna be awful, but you’ve gotta throw up a little more now.”

“I don’t wanna – “

“I know, Ade, I know, but you gotta.”

“Are you mad at – “

But he doesn’t get the words out, because he’s suddenly rigid and retching violently into the toilet, and Maggie just holds his hand, rubs his back, nods softly, sympathetically.

“It hurts,” he whispers hoarsely, and Alex kneels behind Maggie.

“I know it does, Ade, but I promise it won’t hurt forever. Trust me, I know. When I was your age, damn, I got much worse than you are right now. I know how you feel, and you know what? I promise, it’ll feel better.”

“Alex! You came too. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I messed up your night, I messed – “

He vomits again, and Maggie kisses the back of his neck when he spits.

Alex takes the small bottle of mouthwash she’d grabbed from the apartment out of her back pocket.

“Here, Ade, swig this around your mouth. Don’t swallow it, okay?”

Adrian nods faintly as Maggie smiles at her girlfriend, opening the little bottle for him and guiding it to his lips.

He swishes and he spits and he leans his forehead on Maggie’s shoulder.

“Mateo, could you please – “ Maggie starts to ask, but he and Jordan have already come back with new glasses of water.

“Thank you,” she says, pleased with their thoughtfulness, with the concern and regret in their eyes.

“How you feel, Ade?” Jordan asks, and Adrian gives a mock grin and a weak thumbs up.

“You think you have more in you, buddy?” Maggie asks, and he shakes his head as she offers a straw to his lips.

“I know the idea of water hurts, but just a few sips. Just a few sips, okay?” Alex coaches, and she praises him when he forces some down, his face a tight grimace.

He whispers something that sounds a lot like thank you, and he remembers nothing else.

He wakes up in Maggie’s bed, jeans unbuttoned, top buttons of his shirt undone, shoes off. He wakes up with water, a banana, aspirin, coffee all next to his bed. With the curtains all drawn so the light doesn’t hurt his eyes, and with Alex and Maggie tiptoeing around in the kitchen, being as quiet as they can.

“Ey,” he tries, and even though it’s a whisper, they both spring to attention, spring to either side of the bed.

“How you feel, soldier?” Alex asks with a grin, and Adrian groans.

“I passed out?”

Maggie nods. “We only just got home a couple hours ago.”

Adrian’s brow furrows as he accepts the water Alex is giving him, accepts the help Maggie’s giving him with sitting up slow, slow, slow. “But it wasn’t that late when I called.”

“I figured you wouldn’t want us to carry you to the car, so we let you sleep it off in the stall until you could kind of walk. It’s okay if you don’t remember. Nothing bad happened. And Mateo and Jordan send their love, and their said they’re sorry they didn’t watch you closer. I’m pretty sure they blew up your phone with texts.”

Adrian blinks.

“So… so I get into a club illegally, and I drink illegally, and you just… let me sleep on you on a gross bathroom floor for hours and then take me home and take care of me?”

“What else should we have done, Ade?” Maggie asks with narrow eyes and a tilted head.

“I don’t know… yell at me? Arrest me?”

“Well, arresting you wasn’t gonna happen. That’s not what the law… But I did made it very clear to the club that if I ever catch them serving underage kids again… And yell at you? Why would I yell at you?”

“I was stupid.”

Maggie smiles, and she kisses his forehead, and she nods.

“Yep. But Adrian, you called me. Or, well, you texted me. You reached out when you were in a bit of trouble, and that’s all I can ask. I can’t ask you to never make mistakes. I can only ask you to make sure you call me – or Alex, or your parents, or all of us – when you’re in trouble so we can help you.”

“So… you’re not mad?”

Alex snorts. “Oh, she’s hopping mad. But we figure we’ll let you come down from the hangover before you get lectured, Sawyer Style.”

“Not helping, Danvers.”

Alex just winks at him, and Adrian lets out a groggy giggle, and Maggie can’t help but melt.

Because he’s home, and he’s safe, and he’s growing up, but god, he’s still their kid, and he always will be.

And she can’t ask for anything more.

thejemersoninferno  asked:

Hiiii. How are you? Hope everything's alright over there. So, I really really really suck into this ask for a prompt thing bc I always think I'm bothering even though I've been tag to be part of it. Sorry for the long and not need explanation. But here I am. I would like prompt 59 "My scarf always did look better on you" with the fluffly beefy bearded Chris Evans 😶. I've been dreamimg a lot about it so yeah, please and thanks thanks thanks thanks xx

Spending Christmas in Boston is the best. Chris’ family knows how to do the holidays and I love being along for the ride. Chris took almost a month off to spend time at home around the holidays. We’ve been splitting our time between staying in an apartment near the city and staying at Chris’ mom’s house.

Chris promised his nephews that he would help them build a snowfort after the first heavy snow. Of course, right after he made that promise, it snowed for 3 days straight. The snow was up to my knees and almost at the boy’s waists. As soon as the snow stopped and the roads were clear, we made our way to Carly’s house. The boys are almost completely dressed in their snow suits by the time we trudge up to the door while they’re sister chooses to stay in her warm pajamas and enjoy some hot cocoa. I give her a teasing glare as I wish I could stay inside, but Chris made me promise to help. I told him I would help by supervising, but either way I had to be outside in the cold and I was less than excited.

“Who’s ready to build a fort?” Chris clapped his hands excitedly and the boys cheered. Carly smiled apologetically at me as I followed them back out into the cold. Saying you’re going to build a snow fort, and actually going about doing it are very different things. Chris pulled out some old snow brick maker and we all set to work. Chris sets his nephews to work on packing the snow into the brick makers while Chris and I lay the bricks for the first wall. We finish a rather large half circle before we decide it’s time for a hot cocoa break.

“Do I have to go back out” I playfully pout up at Chris as he’s rubbing feeling back into my hands.

“I would like it if you did” He gives me a small smile and kisses my fingers, “but I know how cold you get, so you don’t have to. However, I’ll make it worth your while if you do”

“Oh really? What do you have in mind Evans?” I smirk.

“Are you kidding, there’s little ears here” he whispers loudly back to me and I burst out laughing. Once we stop laughing he leans in close to me and nibbles at me ear before whispering “I’ll make it plenty worth it”

I lean back and smile at him, “You make a convincing argument, even if I barely have any feeling left in my body anyways”

“I think I know some ways to get some feeling back” he says thoughtfully. I shove him back against the couch and he laughs loudly, grabbing his chest and he falls onto his side.

“You’re such a punk” I state before I head back over to the coat racks to put my layers of clothing back on.

By the time we finish the fort we decide that it just wouldn’t be fair to not have a proper snowball fight. Chris and I make a second makeshift wall for us to hide behind before we begin the fight, kids versus adults.

Chris and I have a strategy so I make the snowballs and he throws them. He lobs most of them over the sturdy fort and the boys exaggerate their screams with every incoming ball. Most of the snowballs coming towards us have surprisingly accurate aim, I guess their baseball lessons are paying off. I end up getting hit with a few, the worst one being the one I take directly to the chest. The surprise of being hit knocks the air out of my lungs and I groan and lean into Chris, who of course is laughing like an idiot. I throw him a glare as I try to wipe the melting snow off my jacket, which only causes it to melt through my clothes and the cold wetness burns on my skin.

“I’m done” I declare and raise my hands in surrender.

Chris pounces on me and hugs my arms down to my sides, “no you’re not”

“I am, actually. My neck is now wet as well as freezing”

“Here, here. Take this and stay, please?” He practically begs and he unties his scarf from his neck and wraps it around the back of my neck. I continue to pout up at him until he pulls me forward by the scarf and presses his lips to mine. I hear sounds of pretend gagging in the background but I ignore it as the heat of Chris’ mouth warms mine before the pressure and movement from his beard numbs it again. He pulls away slowly and leans his forehead against mine.

“What was that for?” I ask once my brain returns from the pile of mush it previously became.

“I teaser for tonight. Please stay, just a little longer” he quirks up his eyebrows as he pleas with me.

I sigh and nod my agreement, “but only because you let me wear your scarf”

“My scarf always did look better on you”


A/N: is that picture fluffy and bearded enough? because I think it’s peak fluffiness. Don’t feel nervous about sending prompts! honestly the worst that can happen is an author will say they don’t feel comfortable writing something and that’s that. I promise we love getting prompts! (as long as requests are open of course), personally I find it kind of an honor to get a prompt or request because it makes me think like “hey, this person thinks my writing is good enough to put their idea into action and that’s really cool!” But I hope you like how this one played out, and thank you for participating :)

Permanent Tag List: @amistillmyself @giftofdreams @wildestdreamsrps @iamwarrenspeace @castellandiangelo @always-an-evans-addict @pegasusdragontiger@helloitscrowley @thejulesworld

Chris Evans/Steve Rogers Tag List: @patzammit

anonymous asked:

Hello Sasha. Your blog really stands out from the pack! Congratulations on being so aware at such a young age. I've lurked for a bit on your blog and a few others, but I've decided to share this with you. I think you'd be most receptive. I'm a Psychologist who works in Marketing and Advertising. It seems a strange match but in those fields it's important to 'get inside people's heads' in order to create successful campaigns. As a result of my work, I've had the opportunity to consult the con't

teams of actual celebrities on managing their social media footprint. Never in a million years has anything I ever worked on turned so dark so quickly. We went from talking about very standard things like what types of ‘fan service’ social media users best respond to, to talking about staging things for press. That’s not odd, but it was the things they wanted to stage. They went negative. They talked about staging cyber bullying attacks and leaking private pictures. Thankfully I worked con’t  for an ethical company, so our suggestions and plans were quite normal. But during those consults we were told of a staged event. This is what I wanted to share with you. It involved a girl group. Their team was actually intimately involved in stirring up drama. They weren’t embarrassed. They laughed about it. This is the story they shared. A plan was hatched to get two of the girls upset with each other just before a public appearance. This is the craziest part. The goal was to con’t get them to have a real fight in public, then act as ‘sources’ for the press so that they could methodically milk the press for ongoing headlines. When we asked why, they said 'going negative’ doesn’t hurt the brand these days like it used to and that we should know that. As long as they could control the type of negative, they felt it would actually make them more popular as a group. It’s true that scandal doesn’t always sink a brand especially in the show business arena. There was no con’t argument from us. It was just shocking to hear, at least for me. But the plan went like this, Team Member 1 went to Singer 1 and told her of some unpleasant things Singer 2 did and said. At the same time, Team Member 2 told Singer 2 the same about Singer 1. Mind you, this was happening as the girls were in hair and make-up preparing for an event. They wanted them to confront each other but not behind the scenes. They wanted it public. Well, they took them to the venue in separate cars hoping con’t they’d be ready for a catfight by go time. It didn’t work. One seethed quietly and texted on her phone and the other was in tears being consoled by the rest of the girls. They didn’t fight. They didn’t even speak to each other. It was a cruel trick played on them and meant to be played on the fans too, all at the hands of the people they trusted with their careers. I can’t say what girl group outright only because my job didn’t and doesn’t allow it. But I’m sure you have a couple of guesses or five. con’t I work for a different firm now doing similar work. That’s still the craziest real story I’ve ever heard. Now I spend alot of time lurking on social media because I do research that helps businesses and celebrities 'take the general public’s temperature’. Most fan blogs are pretty innocuous and some are obnoxious. But I think yours is basically on the right track. I can’t say anything definitive about One Direction from direct knowledge. I can say Simon Cowell doesn’t have a good rep. con’t And not just him, but pretty much all of the Managers of the younger celebrities are thought to be pretty sleazy. I have a branding meeting to get to in a few minutes so I’ll end it here. I’ll still be around here and there, lurking. Take care! 

Girl group Anon again. I forgot to say I personally asked why they didn’t have the girls pretend to fight and one person matter of factly responded with, “They can’t act.” That was an important bit to the story! Bye again. 

Wow, hmmm, ok, wow.  I guess we’re talking 5th Harmony here. 

I really am trying to not get too deep into any of Simon Cowell’s other artist drama. Because it seems pretty much all his artists have consistent drama and it’s ridic. And 1D is more than bad enough. But this is an interesting story. 

Ngl nonnie, I went looking at my blog stats to match up the time stamp to who was in my ask box and find where this came from. I can’t find you. I’ve had suspected astroturfers go ghost on me before. I would like to know how you did that, just as an fyi for future reference. And also if you come off anon, we can talk privately. I just have general questions.

But anyway, if true, this is an incredibly shitty thing to do. I don’t follow 5th Harmony closely at all. So I can’t gauge whether or not there was any tension between them at any point. 

Did those people say what they would’ve done if it worked and these girls argued or had a hair pulling fight in public that later was traced back to them? I guess they didn’t fear being fired, right? And what happened since they didn’t fight? Did the team members get confronted for being so messy? Also, were the stories they trotted with true or not? More questions.     

I’ve suspected for a long time that younger artists are the most susceptible to being exploited in really ugly ways. And I knew fans were gaslighted, but the artists too? Shit. That’s an angle I never considered before. That’s next level nasty and manipulative.

As always, grain of salt to everyone reading this. But thanks for sharing nonnie.  

ETA: Thanks for the blog love! 😊

“In case.” (angst)

Anonymous: Can I request two scenarios? The first is a JinJin scenario based on the song ‘In Case’ by Demi, and the second is a Joshua scenario based on the song 'Nightingale’ by Demi. Could you make them really angsty please? You don’t have to do it, so please don’t feel pressured or something! Have a great day, darling!❤😊💞

Title: In Case (JinJin/Jinwoo)
Genre: Comfort
Words: 828
A/N: This was also based on the book Why We Broke Up (not the Jaebum scenario lol). Yay! My first Astro scenario! Enjoy!

p.s. In Case - Demi Lovato

p.p.s. Who’s excited about Astro’s comeback?! Have you seen the teaser pictures?!!!!! Asafhs!!

Originally posted by asterocky


The washing machine whirs as you walk towards it, a mountain of clothes in your arms. You place clothes inside the machine, little by little, taking your time. You hear a scrunch and drop everything on the cool hard floor, ignoring the looks from the other customers.

You find a smooth parchment from one of your jeans’ pockets. It was a picture. A picture of you and Jinwoo. Jinwoo had an arm around your waist and both of you were caught in the mid-laugh. Happiness, that’s what the picture depicted. But it radiated so much heavy sadness in you. You let out a gasp, unable to hold the hurt that still remained in your heart.


Click. “Hi, Y/N! It’s me…JinJin. So um, I just wanted you to know that…” As soon as you heard Jinwoo’s voice, you knew something was wrong. First off, his voice sounded shaky. Second, JinJin never sent you voicemails. Never.

…I wanted you to know that I, uh, want us to break up.” You stop what you were doing and sat up straight on the couch, now facing the mobile phone that lay on your tabletop. What was he saying?

You know, Y/N. I think we’re not good together. Recently, I’ve been getting busy with the comeback and you’ve been…well, you know, busy with school. We should break off this relationship, I don’t think it’s even working.” Your eyebrows scrunch together, your palms clammy. What is JinJin playing?

And, I don’t like you anymore, Y/N. I don’t think I even liked you in the first place. Goodbye, Y/N.” He said, his voice echoing through your now hollow heart. The phone beeps. You let his words sink into you, on repeat like a broken record. I don’t think I even liked you in the first place. The words hit you hard in the center of your heart.

You let the tears slowly fall. You knew something was wrong. You wanted to believe that he was only lying. But why? Why would JinJin lie?

Sighing, you try to brush off the tears. He broke up with you on the phone. Through voice mail. Surely, he isn’t worth it if he thinks a relationship can be broken just like that, right? But no, the pain and confusion still clung to you. You open the fridge. There it was. The anniversary cake JinJin had prepared for tonight.

With that, you collapsed on the floor, the refrigerator’s light illuminating you. And just like that, you sob. Bawling out. You didn’t care if it was cold or that there would be a long electric bill to pay. All you wanted was to feel numb.


“Oi, Jinwoo-hyung, you ordered something?” Moonbin popped his head from the door frame, making the leader turn around to face the boy.

“Huh?” confusion spread through his face. Jinwoo clearly didn’t order anything.

“There’s a box here, the delivery man said it was for you,” Moonbin said and walked closer to JinJin, holding out a box. JinJin muttered thanks as he took it from Moonbin who was eager to resume to his video game. What’s this?

Alone, JinJin carefully placed the box on his desk and opened it, curiosity getting the best of him. He opened the cover, revealing…

…trinkets. Sticky notes with writings scribbled on it, a paper clip, a band-aid, an origami paper crane, a napkin, a chocolate wrapper. The box was filled with various things.

To anyone, it would have been considered trash. But this wasn’t anyone. This was JinJin. He knew what those were memories. Memories of you and him. Your two years together.

Agony coursed through JinJin’s blood, making his hands tremble as he picked up the little things slowly and carefully. He missed you. JinJin missed you so much. He missed your soft hair touching his chin. He missed your smile. He missed your soft lips against his. He missed your chatters. He missed the way you tousled his hair. He missed baking cakes with you. He missed those dates with you. He missed your arms wrapping themselves around his waist when he was busy working in the studio. He missed you he missed you he missed you.

Jinwoo badly wanted to run to the comfort of your apartment, your arms. He wanted to see you. He wanted to you to open the door to him, spilling out all his fears and regrets. Saying that his biggest regret was letting you go.

But he can’t.

He shouldn’t.

Fantagio had told him not to, or else…

JinJin wanted to punch himself for not being able to stand up for himself. He wanted to disregard the company’s warnings. Love was above all, right? He should fight for his love, right?

But he can’t.

He wouldn’t.

His hands reach something smooth and flat. It was a picture. That same picture he used to always keep in his wallet. That picture that held happiness. Hot tears slowly trickle down JinJin’s pale skin as his eyes read the small note,

“In case.”