i even like 'what as' better than 'if i was a duck'

All About Writing Fight Scenes

@galaxies-are-my-ink asked,

“Do you have any advice on writing fight scenes? The type of scene I’m writing is mostly hand to hand combat between two experts. I’m definitely not an expert so when I try to write it, the scene ends up sounding repetitive and dull.”

Fore note: This post is coauthored by myself and one of my amazing critique partners, Barik S. Smith, who both writes fantastic fight scenes and teaches mixed martial arts, various artistic martial arts, and weapons classes.

I (Bryn) will tell you a secret: I trained MMA for seven years, and when I write authentic hand to hand fight scenes, they sound dull too. 

The problem with fight scenes in books is that trying to describe each punch and kick and movement (especially if it’s the only thing you’re describing) creates a fight that feels like it’s in slow motion. 

I write…

Lowering her center of gravity, she held her right hand tight to her face and threw a jab towards his chin. He shifted his weight, ducking under her punch. His hair brushed against her fist, and he stepped forward, launching a shovel hook into her exposed side.

But your brain can only read so fast. In real life that series of events would take an instant, but I needed a full eight seconds to read and comprehend it, which gave it an inherent lethargic feel. 

So, we have two primary problems:

  1. How do we describe this fight in a way the reader can understand and keep track of? 
  2. How do we maintain a fast paced, interesting fight once we’ve broken down the fight far enough for readers to understand it? 

(We will get back to these, I promise.) But for now, let’s look at…

Different types of “fight scenes:”

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A sampling of some of the many, many universes in which Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki didn’t somehow manage to avoid each other for TEN+ YEARS and are already happily married (Inspired in part by the musings of @kiaronna and @pearlo on this topic from this post):

  • In 2010, Viktor is leaving an Olympic after party because it has just more or less dissolved into an orgy and that’s not Really his scene. In this universe, he decides not to go back to his room and instead finds his way to an outdoor seating area, which is not very heavily utilized given the fact that it’s February. There is only one other person out there–an athlete with his back turned, curled up onto a bench. The lettering on his jacket says Japan.
    “Mind if I join?” he asks, and the other man turns to reveal dark hair and the deepest eyes Viktor has ever seen.
    “Oh,” he squeaks. “No. Go ahead.”
    They sit, and talk, and three hours later exchange phone numbers. Instead of going to America to train, Yuuri Katsuki goes to Russia to train under Yakov Feltsman. He takes National gold in 2011 and marries Viktor in 2012.
  • Phichit accidentally posts a video of Yuuri doing a bit of Viktor’s 2013 free skate to Instagram, instead of the hamster video he meant to post. The video makes its way through the figure skating grapevine until, obviously, reaching Viktor. Viktor immediately DM’s Phichit, begging to know who the man in the video is.
    Yuuri wakes up to six missed calls, 609 Instagram notifications, 49 texts and a DM from Viktor Nikiforov.
    “I WAS ASLEEP FOR AN HOUR,” he shrieks.
    Phichit takes complete credit for their marriage in his speech at their wedding less than a year later.
  • Through the careful and judicious saving of money for several years, and because in at least one timeline the main waterline in the onsen and the transmission on the family car don’t go kaput in the same year, Yuuri’s family is able to send him to one of Yakov Feltsman’s ice skating boot camps when he is fourteen years old.
    Viktor is there, all shining hair and huge smile and new celebrity. He has just placed at the Turin Olympics and is on his way to becoming a Russian household name, and Yuuri has been in love with him for two years already.
    “Yuuri!” Viktor coos across the ice, over the heads of the fifteen other skaters in the bootcamp. “Keep your hips even! It won’t make it so hard to turn into your Axel!”
    “Yuuri! Don’t hunch your shoulders on the spread eagle!”
    “Yuuri! Your thigh should be parallel to the ice on that sitspin!”
    “He’s incredibly skilled for his age,” Lilia tells Yakov in the back of the rink one day. “And Vitya has been behaving remarkably well, since he came here.” She fixes her eyes on Yakov, deep and determined. “He’ll be old enough to make his senior debut next year. If we groom him through his last year of juniors, he could bronze in his first GPF, or better. I want him, Yasha.”
    Yakov Feltsman is not in the habit of denying his wife those few things she asks of him.
    Yuuri Katsuki returns home after that bootcamp to pack his things and collect his dog and hug his parents goodbye.
    “I’ll take good care of him, Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki,” Viktor assures from a Skype call. “He’ll be getting the best training in the world. I even have a poodle, so Vicchan won’t be lonely during the day!”
    Hiroko and Toshiya just smile knowingly.
    Yuuri Katsuki is newly fifteen when he moves to Russia and begins sharing a condo with Viktor Nikiforov. He is sixteen when he wins his first GPF silver, and eighteen when the Vancouver Olympics roll around and he stands below his best friend on the podium and accepts silver for Japan as Viktor accepts gold.
    He is nineteen when, after five years of glances and touches and shared secrets and tears and laughter, Viktor pulls him into bed.
    “About time,” is the general consensus to that.
    They have only been dating, dating-dating, for five months when Viktor asks him to marry him.
    “I know it’s quick,” Viktor says, “but I feel like–I feel like we’ve known each other all our lives, anywa, so what’s the point in waiting?”
    Yuuri, of course, feels the same way.
  • Viktor makes a split-second decision to touch up his make-up before a press conference at the Trophee de France 2011, and as he’s patting the sweat marks off his temples hears the definite sound of someone crying.
    “Um,” he announces to the otherwise silence bathroom. “Are you okay?”
    “Yeah!” comes the answer, shrill. “I’m totally fine!”
    “You don’t sound fine,” Viktor says, and ducks his head to see which stall has feet under it. In the last stall, he sees a pair of badly-abused sneakers. He straightens up and knocks on the door. “I’ll leave you alone if you want me to, but I can–if you want, I can show you a better place to cry. Than here.”
    It takes a moment, but the door opens. The man in front of him has watery eyes and puffy red cheeks and Viktor isn’t sure he has ever found someone so beautiful.
    “Okay,” he whispers, and Viktor leads him onto the roof where instead of crying, he stares out over the skyline and tells Viktor about his home town.
    Viktor never does discover why Yuuri was crying, but he does get his phone number–and he does visit his hometown with him, a year later, to tell Yuuri’s family that they’ve decided to get married.
  • Yuuri is somehow convinced by Phichit to go out with a group after Skate America in 2013–Phichit is in his element, leading people around the city with expansive gestures and the effortless social confidence Yuuri has come to know of his best friend. 
    “You’re from this city too, aren’t you?” asks someone at Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri turns from Phichit’s monologue to see Viktor Nikiforov of all people. Yuuri, distantly in the back of his mind, realizes that he didn’t see Viktor before because he is wearing a hat, scarf, and enormous sunglasses.
    “Um, not from here,” Yuuri says, trying not to squeak, “but I–we both live here, Phichit and I.”
    “But you know the city,” Viktor says, “so that means you would know a place where I can get the most disgustingly greasy food imaginable and you and I can go there and my coach never needs to know?”
    “Yes,” Yuuri says immediately, because he may be timid around most people, and especially around his idol, but he has more than enough sense to realize that His Time Has Come. “I can absolutely do that.”
    Yuuri takes Viktor to American Coney Island, where they eat loose burgers and chili fries and drink diet coke, which is the only cession to their diets.
    “Oh Yuuri,” Viktor laughs at the end of the night, a speck of chili cheese still at the corner of his mouth, “I could fall in love with a man like you.”
    And he does.
  • Celestino wins a radio lottery and receives tickets to Champions on Ice in Las Vegas–he decides to take Yuuri and a rinkmate. Yuuri’s rinkmate is nice, but he doesn’t know her very well, and he’s several years younger. She also has friends in Nevada who she wants to meet up with, and Yuuri doesn’t know anybody in the state for obvious reasons. On the first day they are there, Yuuri’s rinkmate disappears with her friends and Celestino takes his wife and goes exploring on the strip. Yuuri stays in his room and plays Pokemon and Skypes his mother.
    On the second day, Yuuri goes shopping for souvenirs for Yuuko and his family, and stares far too long at the billboard of Viktor Nikiforov’s face that is advertising the ice show. That night, he debates which of the three posters he brought with him he should bring to have Viktor sign, before deciding on none–the odds that he will meet Viktor Nikiforov tonight are practically not any higher than they were when the were on opposite sides of the world, and Celestino won’t want to wait in the long autograph lines.
    “Don’t you want an autograph, Yuuri?” Celestino asks after the show, and Yuuri thinks it’s nice of him even though they both know that the polite thing to do is say no.
    “No,” Yuuri says, staring at the long line, and continues out of the building. 
    They branch off then–Celestino has dinner plans with his wife, and Yuuri’s rinkmate is meeting back up with her friends for some clubbing.
    Yuuri is walking back to the hotel when he bumps headlong into somebody’s solid chest.
    “Oh, sorry,” they say, and steady him with hands on his shoulders. Yuuri looks up and finds the same icey blue eyes frm that billboard yesterday staring back at him.
    “Oh,” Yuuri whispers, wide-eyed. “You’re–”
    “Shhh,” whispers Viktor Nikiforov, pressing a finger to his own lips. “Don’t give it away, I’m hiding. 
    “VITYA,” someone from the alley leading back towards the ice center screams.
    “Come on,” Viktor laughs, and tugs Yuuri away by the hand. 
    It’s the spring before Viktor will cut his hair, and it flies out behind him in a magnificent cascade as they run.
    They find their way into a club, where Viktor buys them drinks and laughs and laughs no matter what Yuuri is saying, and then drags him out onto the dance floor. Yuuri has not yet met Phichit Chulanont, who will drag him to pole dancing classes and teach him how to move his hips like a weapon, but he and Viktor get by in the crush of bodies, pushing against each other.
    “I think I love you,” Viktor breaths against his neck, and they’re both three sheets to the wind, but Viktor is Russian and Yuuri is a college student and their tolerance is astronomical. They aren’t even stumbling. “I know we only just met, but I think I love you.”
    “Then let’s get married,” Yuuri blurts before he can help it, and Viktor beams.
    “Yes!” he cries. “Yes, let’s do that!”
    It isn’t hard to find a place that will marry them–even though Viktor’s signature on the certificate looks more like a drawing of a tree, and even though Yuuri’s tie ends up around his forehead halfway through the ceremony.
    In the morning, Yuuri wakes up with the worst hangover of his life, fully-clothed next to Viktor Nikiforov, and says, “We can–this happens all the time, we can have it annulled.”
    Viktor stares down at the ring on his finger, tangled hair all over one shoulder. Yuuri realizes that he doesn’t even rememer where the rings came from. How much did they cost? 
    “I would rather not, if that’s okay,” Viktor murmurs, and so they don’t.
    Yuuri carries out the rest of the year in Detroit, wearing the ring around his neck on a chain and thinking about his husband, half a world away, waiting for him.
instant gratification 02 (m)

Originally posted by theking-or-thekid

➾11.6k words
➾ lots of smut, some fluff, a little angst (just like this gif)
➾ warnings: pregnancy mention
➾ summary: the rules of becoming fuck buddies are as follows: no strings attached, don’t play jealousy games, and strictly no cuddling after sex. On a scale of how-fucked-are-you from one to ten, Jeon Jeongguk has you on a 9, in more ways than one.


Jeon Jeongguk, on top of being the nastiest fuckboy who just happens to have some good dick, is a childish brat. 

Parties are so not your thing, and you feel like a fish out of water in the midst of so many scantily clad girls and barely sober frat boys. You’ve been grabbed at least 5 times now, only managing to narrowly escape their clutches the last time, and you have to fight to keep your patience as you try and spot his big head in the overcrowded frat house. You wouldn’t be here if not for his not so thinly veiled threat over text.

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All Our Secrets Laid Bare (Part One)

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Prompt: The reader’s nosy (and quite rude) relatives are coming over for an unexpected family dinner. Long story short, they expect the reader to have a boyfriend, which the reader most definitely does not have. Luckily, they do have a best friend by the name of Peter Parker. One small favor wouldn’t be too much to ask, right?

Warnings: Some angst towards the end.

Word Count: 3,524

A/N: The reader doesn’t know Peter is Spider-Man in this imagine.
Also, I’m sorry if there are any grammatical errors. My usual beta reader wasn’t available and I really wanted to get this imagine posted.
Enjoy!

Part Two / Part Three

Originally posted by hardyness

“You’re my boyfriend now.”

“I-I’m sorry, what?” Peter stammered back through the phone.

This was not how you planned this day to go.

“It’s a long story. Nosy relatives coming over for dinner, may have lied and said I had a boyfriend just to get them to shut up, don’t actually have a boyfriend, typical family stuff, you know?” you tried to explain.

There was a slight pause as Peter digested all of the information you just threw at him.

“Okay, so basically, you broke under pressure and lied about have a boyfriend, and now you need me to be your boyfriend to protect you from your nosy relatives?” repeated Peter.

You rolled your eyes, perfectly aware that Peter couldn’t see them through the phone call, but positive that he felt the frustration anyway, “I didn’t break under pressure, I just… improvised.”

“Oh yeah, totally,” said Peter, voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “So do you need me to be your boyfriend or not?”

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Skyline {VI}

Originally posted by tomhollanderr

Warnings: Language, blood mention, panic attack

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: Oh my god you guys!!  I have so much to discuss but first and foremost I want to thank all of you for making this story into what it is.  I started this story two weeks ago and in those two weeks I’ve gained almost 2000 followers and have had success that I never even dreamed of.  Thank you so much for all that you’ve done for me, for this story, and hopefully for stories I write in the future!!! Skyline wouldn’t be what it is today without you guys.  Secondly, there will be a pt. 7!!!  I know I keep saying this, but I really did mean for this to be the last part.  It’s just that there are so many things I want to include and plot points I want to flesh out, and although I feel bad for writing angst chapter after angst chapter, I want to give you guys my all and I don’t want to short change you.  Finally, I would like to thank my friends Zoe and Jen for helping me brainstorm ideas and helping finalize details and plot points.  I love you guys so so much!!  Also, everyone, again, I DO NOT HAVE A TAGS LIST!!! I put this at the beginning of every chapter, it’s in my bio, and I’ve made multiple posts but people keep spamming me about it.  I am truly not trying to be mean, but I do my best to respond to every ask and message I get, and having to sort through a million people asking the same question is hard guys!!!.  Before, I go, one last thing: because everyone has sent me in songs that they listen to that remind them of Skyline, I compiled them into a playlist along with ones I listen to!!  Please give it a listen and try to listen in order, as the songs follow the storyline.  Link is below.  Enjoy everyone!!

skyline: a mixtape

{part i} {part ii} {part iii} {part iv} {part v} 

Waking up the next morning was hard.  Sleep was like temporary amnesia, and when you awoke alone in bed, your hand automatically reached out for the note that Spider-Man always left before he disappeared every night.  Instead of feeling the usual smooth sheet of paper, however, you felt empty sheets that seemed colder than ever before.  It was then that the events of the previous night tumbled into your head, from your request to know Spider-Man’s identity, to him saying I love you for the first time, to you giving him up.

You groaned and rubbed your hand across your face, fatigue taking over.  More than anything, you wanted to fake an illness, stay in bed all day, and wallow in your thoughts, but you knew you had to get up. Although the breakup hurt you (did it count as a breakup if you were never really together in the first place?), you knew you made the right choice.  There was no way a relationship with a superhero would work out if the significant other didn’t know who they were; if you were to fall in love, you would need to be able to fall completely.

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2

Mind Reader

Characters: Dean x Reader

Warnings: angst adjacent, smut, dirty talk, LOTS of language

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I was looking through some REALLY old requests and I came across an idea from @jennalyncarrigan1230 from who knows how long ago. She pitched an idea that I have twisted and LOVE the outcome. I doubt she even remembers sending the ask, but her initial idea sparked this smutty goodness. This took on a life of its own. I haven’t wrote Dean smut or ANY smut in quite some time. This is officially DIRTY. Or at least by my standards it is. Hope you enjoy. ;) Italics & Bold indicate reader’s thoughts.  This has very little plot. Just the poor reader thinking her secret dirty thoughts about Dean only to have them be not so secret anymore.

Feedback Appreciated

Tags at the bottom

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Patronus

word count: 1.8 K

tags: patronus, drarry, eighth year

Harry held out his hand, “Start over?” he was smiling hesitantly, his eyes showing his worry. Draco took his hand, it was larger than he thought it would be, dry and calloused like a laborer rather than a wizard. Harry’s grip was firm and his smile grew more certain and hopeful. After the first failed handshake, Draco had never allowed himself to think Harry would ever look at him like that.

Draco remembered the hope, the warm flutter of nerves that would bloom into happiness over time, “Expecto Patronum.” he held his breath as he opened his eyes, half expecting to see flesh-eating slugs spilling from his wand. Instead, he saw a thin silvery mist, stretching and curling around him even as it slowly began to dissipate.

His breath caught in excitement. Perhaps he could. Perhaps he might be worthy after all.

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Oh Sehun//Fast Lane

Originally posted by lawlliets

Summary: You finally find out how your big cousin earns her money - she’s the flag girl for the illegal street races in your neighborhood, and now she’s dragging you along. And that’s where you meet the Hawaii-shirt wearing, orange-headed Oh Sehun, ace street racer and smartass.
Scenario: street racer!au 
Word Count: 6,337

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anonymous asked:

“You bake when you’re stressed and sometimes you give me cookies, but recently you’re giving me whole baskets each day, now I’m not complaining but are you okay?” au sterek? <3

OK, I wrote you a quick little thing. :)

now also on ao3

*

When Derek shows up at Stiles’ back door that morning with a basket full of about three dozen cookies, all carefully iced to look like Batman and Spider-Man, Stiles doesn’t say anything. He just gets up from the kitchen table and opens the screen door, and then he looks down at the basket for a long, long moment, and then he rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes and groans.

He looks kind of… unkempt. He’s wearing the same sweatpants and lacrosse hoodie he’d had on two days ago when Derek saw him at his mailbox, and his hair is sticking up everywhere, and it’s obvious he hasn’t shaved in a while because there’s some actual stubble there. Derek didn’t think Stiles was even capable of facial hair. It only adds to his attractiveness, but still, Derek can’t help but be concerned.

Derek doesn’t usually start conversations, but today he feels like making an exception. “Are you okay? This is a lot more baking than usual, even for you.”

“What? What do you mean?” Stiles says, dropping his hands to his sides. His face cycles through about five or six different expressions before settling on something that’s probably trying to say “innocent and oblivious,” but… well. Derek might not know Stiles that well, but he knows Stiles is definitely not either of those things, ever.

“The cookies,” Derek says slowly. “That you leave on my doorstep a few times a week while I’m out on my morning run.”

Stiles glares down at the cookies Derek’s holding like they’ve betrayed him.

“We don’t talk about it,” Derek says slowly, unsure, “but I thought you knew that I knew it was you. I mean, no one else in the neighborhood even talks to me.”

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For the lovey @miyeongi-cutie who suggested a bakery AU that I am OBSESSED WITH!!! Hope you like it! 🖤
~~~~~
“So where are we going again?” Shiro asked as he threw an arm around Keith’s neck, drawing him in and ruffling his hair.
“Hey, stop it! Get off!” Keith ducked out from his grip and shoved him away, trying to fix his hair. “Why are you like this, you’re so annoying!” Shiro chuckled and nudged him with his elbow. “I’m your big brother. It’s my job to annoy you. Now, answer the question.”
Keith rolled his eyes and muttered “Adopted brother. Anyway, we’re going to this cafe or bakery place that Pidge won’t stop talking about. Says their coffee is really good and the food is ‘better than free wifi.’”
Shiro raised his eyebrows until they nearly disappeared under his tuff of hair.
“Better than free wifi? Pidge said that? Huh, wow. They must be really good then.”
Keith hummed in agreement and stuffed his hands in his red jacket, pulling it closer. Shiro smiled at the action zipped up his black and gray jacket, burying his nose into it.

It was late fall, and the breeze held a chilly bit. The wind whispered of winter, and the trees had begun to shed their leaves, some of which where floating in the air, softly floating the the ground. Shiro was enjoying the slight crunch they made when he stepped on them when Keith grabbed his arm.
“Hey, I think this is it.”
Shiro stopped and observed the building before them. It was a simple building, one that you could easily pass if you weren’t looking for it. The building was made out of worn brick, with a chalkboard sign in front the entrance that read: ‘Welcome to Voltron! Please do not touch pastries with your hands. Use your tongue.’ Shiro chuckled at the sign while Keith just stared.
“What kind of a name is Voltron?”
Shiro shrugged.
“I have no idea, but you have to admit, it is a pretty unique name that would be hard to forget. Now come on, I’m getting hungry.”
Shiro opened the door and was immediately hit with a wall of delicate dents of vanilla, sugar, cinnamon, the roast of coffee beans, and other heavenly scents. Keith moaned at the smell and Shiro couldn’t blame him. The smell almost made him weak in the knees.

They walked into the shop and looked around. It was a very cozy cafe. Their were multiple colored booths and chairs and even beanbags, coming in black, blue, red, green, and yellow. They was stools along the bar, and there was a glass case full of desserts and pastries that had Shiro’s mouth watering. Shiro was about to press his face right up against the glass when I kind voice greeted them.
“Hey! Welcome to Voltron!”
Keith and Shiro turned toward the voice and saw a bolder of man in its place. He was wearing cargo shorts and a yellow shirt accompanied with a yellow apron. His hair was tied back with a bandana, and had a name rage that read ‘Hunk.’ Keith read it and arched an eyebrow at him, and Hunk just laughed.
“Yeah, before you ask, it’s real. Everybody calls me that.”
Shiro smiled and greeted him. “It’s nice to meet you Hunk. My name’s Shiro and this is Keith. Pidge suggested this place and highly recommended it.”
Hunk’s eyes lit up and gave them a beaming smile. “Oh Pidge! Yeah I know them! Me and Lance have become friends with them because they come so much. Oh! And Lance is the pastry king. I’m the coffee master, so it evens out.”
Shiro nodded and turned his attention to Keith. “Hey Keith, do you-Keith?”
Keith was not listening to either of them, eyes glued to a small white cup on the register, face furiously red. Shiro looked at him with a confused look before picking up the cup that was causing Keith’s dilemma. When Shiro read the cup, he sputtered and started laughing loudly, cheeks slightly flushing.
Hunk cocked his head. “What? What is it?”
Shiro turned the cup to Hunk, who could clearly read the font in neat loopy handwriting: “Just put your tip in here. See how it feels.” Hunk immediately paled and then change to a shade of purple then red. He quickly grabbed the cup and threw it away.
“LANCE THAT IS SO INAPPROPRIATE WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”
They were able to hear mad cackling in the back of the cafe where the kitchen was. Hunk turned back to them, straightening his apron, flush still on his cheeks.
“I’m so sorry, that won’t happen again. So, uh, what would you like to order?”

Shiro peered at the menu, tapping a finger against his chin. He looked at Keith who just shrugged, as lost as he was.
Shiro turned back to Hunk. “What do you recommend?”
Hunk’s eyes lit up and he clapped his hands together.
“Oh man, where do I start? Everything Lance makes is amazing. Hmm, let’s go with something exotic. How about miguelitos and tarta de Santiago?”
Keith furrowed his brow. “What the heck are those?”
Hunk chuckled.
“Oh yeah, sorry miguelitos is this pastry that is made up of like a million thin pastry layers and each layer is filled with chocolate or cream. It’s then dusted with powdered sugar. Tarta de Santiago is a really thin, moist almond cake. Powdered sugar is on top of it as well. As you probably guessed, their both Hispanic desserts. Lance likes to show off his heritage.”

Shiro hummed gave him a smile. “Alright! We’ll get both of those, and I’ll get an espresso. Keith?”
Keith looked at the menu again. “Do you have soy milk?”
Hunk nodded and smile.
“Okay, I’ll just have a hot chocolate. With extra whipped cream on top.”
Shiro chuckled.
Keith glared at him. “What?”
“Oh nothing, nothing! Just glad to see my little brother growing up.”
Shiro laughed hard as Keith flushed and punched him in the arm as he paid Hunk.

He put the change into the new tip cup and went to sit down at table in the corner. It wasn’t long before they had sat down when Hunk brought them their food, perfectly balancing them on a small tray.
“Order up! I hope you like it!” Hunk sent them a smile and went back to the counter.
Shiro looked at the coffee and food and inhaled deeply, the smell making his mouth water.
“Let’s not waste anymore time! Let’s dig in!” Keith and Shiro both reached for the miguelitos and popped it in their mouths. Shiro’s eyes fluttered closed as the pastry melted in his mouth, and chocolate covered every taste bud. He almost had to stifle a moan. And Keith wasn’t in any better shape. He was looking at the patty in awe, as if it held the secrets to the universe. He quickly looked up at Shiro.
“Wanna try the tarta thingy?”
“Oh heck yeah.”
Shiro and Keith both picked up a slice, gave a mock cheers, and bit into it with a crisp crunch. However, as soon as the cake met their tongues, it practically melted away. Keith grabbed both pastures and shoved them in his mouth at the same time.
“I am in heaven.”
Shiro opened his mouth to agree, when an excited voice cut him off.

“HUNK!! HUNK, I DID IT!! You’ve got to try this! I’ve combined a churro and a cupcake into one blessed love child!”
Shiro turned toward the voice, laughing with amusement in his eyes. He went to take a drink of his coffee, but that’s when he laid eyes on the excited baker. Shiro chocked on his coffee, spraying across the room and spluttering the hot liquid out of his lungs.
“Holy shit! Are you alright Shiro?”
Shiro ignored Keith’s concern and whipped around to get a better view of the baker. Said baker had warm mocha skin, as rich as the coffee he was drinking. His hair was a warm chocolate, shaggy and barely reaching the top of his eyes. And his eyes. Oh god his eyes. They were the deepest blue Shiro had ever seen, reminding him of the ocean and they were so bright with life and energy. And he was covered with flour, which Shiro found absolutely adorable. It was covering the front of his apron and was even smeared across one of his cheeks, and Shiro wanted nothing more than to brush it away with his thumb.
“Uh…Shiro?”
Keith waved a hand in front of Shiro’s face, who just knocked it out the way, leaning out of his seat. Keith followed his gaze and let out a long sigh when he realized what he was staring at. Keith kicked him in the shin, finally getting his attention.
“Seriously Shiro? Can please control your emotions.”
Shiro gave him a small pout, but still turned toward the boy. “Keith, oh Keith. He’s so pretty. No, gorgeous. Did you see his eyes? They’re so blue and beautiful.”
Keith groaned and dropped his head on the table.
“Shiro we came here to try the food, not try the baker.”
“I’m not complaining.”
“Shiro!!”

Shiro ignored his scandalous tone and continued to stare at the baker who was talking animatedly about his new creation, hands flying everywhere. Keith let out another long sigh and sat back in his chair.
“I am not ready for all this pining. You’re a mess Shiro. Remind me the curse Pidge for suggesting this place.”
“Well remind me to thank Pidge.”
Shiro then stepped out of his chair, walking toward the duo.
“S-Shiro?! Where are you going?”
Shiro tossed him a grin over his shoulder.
“Well, in going to introduce myself and give my compliments to the chef. Don’t want to be rude!”
Keith groaned and lightly banged his head on his table, cursing everything, especially Pidge. Somehow he knew they had set this up. He was going kill that gremlin. As soon he could get Shiro away from that baker who was throwing Shiro fingers guns along with a smirk. Keith groaned again. He had a feeling he would back to this cafe again. A lot.

BTS’s reaction to their s/o having a PDA addiction:

💌 requested by @pastelxxwitch (your English isn’t bad at all, sweetie!)

A/N: As I mentioned before, I don’t write NSFW, but hopefully I was able to do this request justice. I made it super fluffy. Hope you enjoy it, loves~ 💖


Jin: You have a problem, you know you do. It’s too much - you always go too far. But when you get the urge to cuddle your boyfriend over a respectable family dinner, it’s not something you can easily dismiss. He’s looking so handsome, serving stew to his mother, sleeves rolled up, shirt damp with sweat and kitchen steam - less like a boyfriend, more like a husband. A husband that needs a barrage of hugging and kissing as punishment for being so drop-dead gorgeous.

As he sits down opposite, you give him a look – the look – to let him know what’s up. He doesn’t get the hint at first, so you inch your toes across the wooden flood until you find his shape under the table, and give his leg a nudge with your foot.

His eyes flicker to yours, brows raised in amusement. You’ve been together long enough to understand what his silent signals mean. Translation: “So, playing footsie is a thing we do now?”

You rub your foot up and down the inside of his calf, smiling at him through half-lidded eyes. Translation: “Yes, it’s a thing we do. Starting now.”

Jin looks you up and down, totally distracted now. You’re winning. Just a little more, and he’ll bend to your will. With one last brush of your toe against his trouser leg he stands up, displacing his glass of water, so that a few drops spot the table. “I just remembered that there’s a bottle of wine I forgot to open. Y/N, come and help me get the wine glasses.”

That’s your cue to leave, following him to the kitchen for an emergency make-out session:

“Was there a reason you desperately needed to disrupt our family dinner?”

“You were looking unfairly handsome,” you reply, “You needed to be punished.”

“With kisses?”

“The worst type of punishment.” You kiss him to prove you mean it.

Originally posted by jinmini


Yoongi: Well, this is new.

Normally, you have to beg Yoongi for hugs in public – pulling on his sweater sleeves, pulling on his hair, pulling on his ragged ends with pleas of “Please, Yoongi. Please.” Then he’d roll his eyes, shuffle closer and drape you in his warmth, with an arm around your shoulder while he mumbled about how embarrassing you are.

But today - today is different. And you certainly aren’t complaining.

Pressing his nose into your neck, pulling you closer, his hands fall around your waist, reaching down until they find leverage in the back pockets of your jeans. Without you asking; without him kicking and screaming and making a fuss about it.

You have to pull back a fraction to check his cheeks, which burn pink, just to make sure this is definitely your boyfriend and not some weird, alien replacement.

“What?” he demands.

You shake your head, and curl your arms around his neck. “Nothing… I just though you didn’t like cuddling in public.”

“I don’t.”

“Then what do you call this?”

He burrows deeper, pressing his face into the fabric of your shirt. “I call this an emergency.”

“Emergency?”

He nods. “I was running low on hugs.”

Originally posted by leojuseyo


Hoseok: You fidget anxiously. It’s been three hours, fifteen minutes and nine seconds since your last cuddle with Hoseok, and you’re beginning to feel cold already – what you need right now is a hug, or a hand in your hand, anything really, you’re not picky. But in the middle of the supermarket, mid weekly shop, isn’t the best place or time to tackle your boyfriend. Still, his back is looking exceptionally inviting underneath that tight-fitting t-shirt, just asking for you to snatch him up as he stretches up to reach a cereal box on the highest shelf.

As he turns back to toss the box in the shopping trolley, he pauses, eyeing you up and down, and that’s when you realise you’ve been biting your lip all this time, making heart-eyes his way. Not so subtle.

“What?” he asks, although he knows exactly ‘what’.

You press your palms onto the trolley’s handle and push it in his direction so the metal frame bumps against him. “Don’t ‘what?’ me.”

His response is a chuckle. “Is it that bad? You need me that much?”

You nod, and he licks his lips, before glancing up and down the aisle. There’s no one about. A motion of his hand is all the invitation you need to dive into his arms, and drown him in kisses, hidden by the shelves of biscuits and crisps.

Originally posted by itsrapmonster


Namjoon: “Namjoon, I need a hug.” You hold your arms out to your boyfriend.

“What why? Are you feeling okay?” As usual, Namjoon’s brain is spinning with possible reasons for this sudden request. Are you down? Depressed? Feeling lonely or anxious? Whatever it is, Namjoon’s ready to hug it away, even if you are in the middle of the main street.

You just shake your head at his concern, your smile stretching fondly. “Nothing’s wrong. I just love you. And I want a hug.”

That’s all you need to say. Namjoon’s face relaxes, his shoulders sag, and he breathes a sigh of relief. A hug for love’s sake. Of course. In one step, he’s by your side, wrapping his arms around your waist – not because it’s raining in your heart, or the sky above you is crumbling down, or the very fabric of the Earth is fraying. But just because you wanted it.

And you also – “Was that the first time you said that you love me?” he asks.

“I think it was.”

“Well. I love you too.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Originally posted by bangthebae


Jimin: You have a new hobby: embarrassing your boyfriend in front of his friends.

Jimin, who’s normally more snuggly than your bed on a rainy Monday morning, forgets all about your habitual cuddling when he’s with his group, keeping his distance instead, and getting jumpy when you brush against him.

Now that you’ve figured out how much power you possess – with him pleading “please – not so much PDA while I’m around my friends, I need to keep some semblance of my masculinity”, and you cooing back “sure thing, my squishy mochi” – it’s time to wreak some havoc.

The next time you’re at Taehyung’s house, you decide to put your plan in motion, pouncing on Jimin and tackling him to the couch. This should be fun.

“What are you doing?” His cheeks rise a couple of shades of red.

“Just cuddling like we normally do, mochi-wochi,” you purr, settling yourself in his lap.

The other boys burst out laughing at your actions, while Jimin squirms underneath you, trying to wriggle free. But it’s no use. Cuddling is serious business to you, and there’s no way you’re letting him go.

Sighing, he surrenders, and with his masculinity in shreds, he kisses your cheek as a form of peace-keeping. “Alright you win,” he mumbles, “Just, please, no more ‘mochi-wochi’.”

Originally posted by minblush


Taehyung: You and Taehyung are tied together by the heartstrings. You have a connection that you can’t quite explain, and somehow, you both seem to know exactly when the other’s craving touch - feelings so in sync, Taehyung needs you exactly when you need him.

Today is no exception. You’re sitting in a café with Taehyung, smiling stupidly-in-love over ice-cream sundaes, when all of a sudden you need – need – to cuddle with him, or your heart might seize up.

Without a word, without warning, you slip out of your seat, and rounding the table to Taehyung’s side, wrap your arms around his shoulders.

He twists his neck to gaze up at you, brown eyes blinking. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I just really needed a hug, all of a sudden.”

“Good, me too.” He grins, and you duck your head down for a kiss on his unsuspecting lips.

With a smooth motion, he slides his chair back, making room for you to sit on his lap, which you’re more than happy to accept, and from this perch you have easy access to his triple-chocolate knickerbocker glory.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Taehyung scoffs, as you lick chocolate sauce off his spoon, “You only like me for my desserts?”

“Opps. Exposed,” you laugh, and Taehyung leans in to peck a stray speck of chocolate from your chin.

When you kiss back again, he shivers below you, body responding before he can control it. Forgetting the café around you, the hustle and bustle of baristas and customers, you and Taehyung melt into each other like the ice-cream in your bowl.

Originally posted by buisually-appealing


Jungkook: Jungkook doesn’t like cuddling in public. It’s something you learnt about him a long time ago, on your first date in fact, sharing secrets with a game of ’20 questions’ - when he said ‘I’m embarrassed to touch in public’ you had almost ended the relationship then and there. How were you – one of the clingiest, touchy-feeliest people on the planet – going to cope with a guy who melted into a blushing pile of mush any time you so much as brushed fingers in public. Even when you got him to hold your hand, murmuring ‘Look, see? No one minds, no one’s looking,’ he’d still stay as stiff as steel, and snap your fingers apart when anyone so much as glanced in your general direction.

Thankfully, you had discovered a way to combat the problem, crafting the perfect date for you and your boyfriend – a public place where you could touch to your heart’s content, without Jungkook shying away from the eyes of disapproving grannies and curious children: a magical place called the cinema.

Seated in the back row, you can share a bag of popcorn and as many kisses as you want, without fear of being watched. With everyone else transfixed on the film, you and Jungkook can devote yourselves to each other. As the movie heroes strike out on quests to discover new lands, you explore new parts of Jungkook, acquainting yourself with every centimetre of exposed skin: cheeks, neck, knuckles, the inside of his wrists, any part he gives. He relaxes in your arms, and watching him unfurl for you is better than any film – he is your masterpiece, better directed that Steven Spielberg. In the dark of the cinema, you fall in love.

Originally posted by aestheticvbts


! I did not make the gifs !

anonymous asked:

dark rc would you please consider writing about how victor (and the rest of the Russian skate team) had a feud with the Russian hockey team bc of their constant flirting and attentions towards yuuri (who was completely oblivious at the war waging for his heart)??

This has been sitting in my inbox for over a month and I apologize for that, nonny! I wanted to try my hand at breaking through this writer’s block and this prompt was ripe for the taking. It’s not my best work by any stretch, but it’s something at least! I hope you enjoy.

+

There are few things that give Yuri pleasure—the taste of accomplishment like cinnamon sugar on the back of his tongue after landing a quad; having a comeback so cutting that he practically draws blood; that soft murrf a cat makes when it decides it trusts him; the little green screenshot arrow appearing next to Otabek’s name in Snapchat—but they all pale in comparison to whenever the Russian hockey team visits the rink.

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The Void Inside Me (NSFW 18+)

A/N: This idea was sprouted by one of those ads we’re the two people are texting about something really agnsty or suspenseful and you have to download the app to see the whole story. I loved the idea so much and thought no one would be more suited for it than Void. I want to thank @writing-obrien for seriously helping me out with this when I was completely stumped. Also @celestial-writing because this fic would not be finished if it weren’t for her motivating me to push through up until the very end. And @sarcasticallystilinski too for all her feedback. I think they all edited this at some point too so thank you beautiful babes, I love you all more than most. Lastly, Koneko is Japanese for kitten so says google translater. I’m sorry if I got that wrong.

Warnings: Smut; choking.

Word Count: 6860

|Masterlist|

Originally posted by teendeucalion

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Foul Play (M)

Originally posted by minspink

Summary: Everyone loves a good rivalry, and the students at your university are no exception. Unluckily for you, the rivalry of the decade is between yourself and a furiously irritating Park Jimin. A top gymnast and a basketball star shouldn’t cross paths, but Jimin makes his way into your heart before you can put a stop to it.
Word Count: 24.314
Genre: college au, basketball player Jimin, sports university
A/N: A while ago @workofteaguk was doubting my lane while simultaneously having a crisis over Jimin. So naturally, retaliation was in order. This is all @minsvga‘s fault for encouraging me to run with this idea.

Elitism brings out the worst in people. Feelings of superiority run unchecked where talent and hard work meet to flourish and thrive, where young athletes spend their days training their bodies to the limits, pushing themselves harder to reach the ultimate dream: to receive validation and know that the years they’ve spent sacrificing sleep and jobs and romance for medals, winning seasons, and future professions has been worth it.

And as any good athlete knows, elitism leads to rivalry. Rivalries between teammates, between neighboring schools, or, most notably, a rivalry between Seoul Sports University’s top gymnast and one of the best point guards to grace the basketball court. And when rivalry and hatred reach such a level, it attracts attention from outsiders, from those who find amusement from such bitter hatred between two young people. Two young people who share common goals and similar training regimes, who for all intents and purposes should be close, but cannot stand the sight of one another.

This is a feeling that you know intimately.

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ultimate-drama-queen  asked:

Hi. I love your blog and all the little headcannons (canon?) you do. I also noticed you're amazing for writing little stories for people who are having a tough time. Would it be too much to ask if I could have one? I'm suffering from a bout of depression/insomnia and I'm running on about 4 hours sleep in about 3 days. What do you think of Derek or Stiles getting insomnia from all the stuff they've seen and the other just cuddling them through it? Trying to stay awake so they're not alone?

Hey, sweetheart. The depression/insomnia combo is horrible. I don’t know if it will work for you but earlier this year I stumbled upon ASMR videos. I know some people find them weird but they really helped me when it came to getting to sleep. In the mean time, I hope this little fic does something to help. 

Stiles thought being able to sleep after the Nogitsune had been the universe’s way of balancing out the good and bad in his life: get possessed by a psychotic Japanese fox but sleep like a baby every night after. As it turned out, being able to sleep after a spirit uses your body to murder a bunch of people came down to the fact Stiles hadn’t had a break since finding Laura Hale’s body that night in the woods.   

He believed joining the academy would be a fresh start, and in many ways it was. He just didn’t count on the fact that now he didn’t have pure evil trying to kill him at every waking moment that his brain would finally find time to process it. Stiles had always been a fan of ignoring his problems until they eventually, just, go away; watching his friends die, looking down at his own body and knowing it wasn’t really his but the cardboard cutout left behind by the Nogitsune, the memory of watching Derek almost -

He assumed - stupidly - that he had been successful in that particular endeavour. As long as he had his pillow, he was fine. You’re going to be fine. That was what the faceless people of the internet said. Stiles didn’t think “fine” was ever going to be an option for him but he guessed hope was a nice sentiment. 

“Insomnia,” Scott said, repeating the word back to him. Stiles could practically hear the concern, loud and clear, ringing through the phone. It instantly made him feel worse. Heaving a sigh, he scrubbed a tired hand down his face. Maybe he shouldn’t have called.  

“Yes, insomnia.”

Scott was quiet for several seconds.  “Do you have your pillow?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Stiles answered. He was currently clutching it to his chest, sprawled out on his bedroom floor. It was 3am, the floor was hard, and if he didn’t get some sleep soon he was going to start crying; the kind of crying he hadn’t done since he was a kid and his mom took ill. 

“What about drugs?” Scott suggested. “I could ask my mom-”

“No drugs, Scott.”

“But-”

I said no drugs, Scott.” 

The line went quiet again and Stiles felt his eyes begin to sting. This was a mistake.

“Sorry, man, I have to go.” 

He hung up before Scott could respond, deciding he could feel guilty about it later.

~

At the academy, he was on auto-pilot. Luckily, Stiles had come up with some of his best plans during the last four years on little-to-no sleep, so it wasn’t overly obvious to his fellow agents-in-training that he needed several cups on coffee just to get through the day.

It was obvious to someone though. Someone who clearly thought it was their sworn duty to haul Stiles over their shoulder in the middle of his third run to the coffee shop that day and deposit him in the back of their car. 

Stiles wanted to protest - he should protest, call for help, maybe? - but he had had his eyes closed when the stranger grabbed him, had been drooling on a statue, leaning against it for moral support, as he had waited for his order.

Plus, the stranger’s arms felt nice. 

In the back of his mind, Stiles couldn’t decide if thinking a stranger’s arms felt nice during a potential kidnapping - fuck, please don’t let it be a supernatural kidnapping - was because of his sleep deprived state or if that was just the way he was wired now. 

It was only when a door opened and a familiar pair of eyebrows slid into the driver’s seat did Stiles begin to laugh. Hysterically. 

“Of course,” he said, shaking his head and pressing his lips against the cool leather interior. Familiar hands strapped him into the his seat. “Of course it’s you, big guy.”

Derek just gave a slight huff and muttered something Stiles couldn’t hear, but it sounded an awful lot like, yeah, I missed you, too. 

Stiles laughed again. It was crazy, what your mind came up with when it wasn’t functioning properly. 

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Veterinary Homeopathy

Homeopathy is huge right now and interest in it is growing. Many people take homeopathic remedies and a large portion are giving them to their pets. When I discuss this with owners it becomes clear that most people don’t actually know what homeopathy is nor what they are giving themselves or their pets. I truly believe that people need to have at least a basic understanding of what they put in the bodies of themselves and their pets so that they they can take control of their healthcare to some degree. Let’s try and make that happen.

Homeopathy was invented in 1796 by a man named Samuel Hahnemann who believed all diseases were caused by miasms or impure airs. Later on he refined his theory and believed there were 3 main miasms: Itch, Gonorrheal, and Chancre. What else was happening in medicine at the turn of the 19th century? Drowning victims had tubes inserted into their anuses and were pumped full of tobacco smoke. The smallpox vaccine was invented and people thought it would turn you into a cow. Cholera was thought to be caused by eating cold fruits or from being overly passionate. Hysteria was thought of as a disease of women caused by the uterus wandering around the body, the treatment involved intercourse for married women or a medical “massage” by a doctor for those unwed. 

The basis for homeopathy is that like cures like. If you are bitten by a venomous snake, the same venom is used to cure you. Vomiting is cured by giving something that causes vomiting, commonly strychnine. Strychnine is poison though, right? Strychnine causes vomiting, diarrhea, heart arrythmias, and death. So how can it be used to cure diseases? TL;DR version: it can’t. Long version is that Hahnemann believed that the more dilute a substance, the more powerful it was. He diluted substances in water believing that the water would “remember” the energy of the substance and impart the cure even without any of the substance. So the very dilute remedies do not even have a single molecule of the substance in them. They are just water.

There are 3 main dilutions used in homeopathy: the centesimal scale, the decimal scale, and The Quinguagintimillesimal Scale. In the centesimal scale 1 part of a substance is mixed with 99 parts water and the container is hit or “succussed” 10 times to impart the energy into the water. This is called a 1C dilution. 1 part of the 1C dilution is added to 99 parts water and the mixing done again resulting in 2C. This can go on forever, usually though it ends somewhere around 24C.

Decimal scale is the same only it is 1:10. The Quinguagintimillesimal scale is the most dilute so is the most powerful. The dilution here is 1:50,000.

A very popular homeopathic remedy is Oscillococcinum which supposedly cures the flu. So it must contain flu virus right? Wrong. It is made boiling duck hearts and liver and then diluting out to 200C. At this point there is nothing in the medication except water and sucrose. The manufacturer has lost at least 2 lawsuits for false medical claims because they cannot prove it works.

So the basis of homeopathy is that water can remember whatever substance is placed in it and will cure diseases. If that’s the case are we all drinking dinosaur urine energy? Or what about all the chemicals we mix with our water, does it remember those?

Homeopathy is a psuedoscience. It is not real. There are no studies that can find any proof it works other than placebo. Basic science contraindicates the tenets of homeopathy. People take the remedies and report that they “feel” better, but no testing is ever done. And yet people spend millions on homeopathic cures. What really bothers me is that people will refuse vaccines, medication, etc. and say vets are ripping them off and are unscrupulous. Then they go to the store and pay $15.00 for sugar pills and believe it will cure disease.

The sad thing is that you do a quick Google search and find psuedoscientific studies, papers, journal articles, even homeopathic doctors. They claim modern medicine doesn’t want people to be cured or that nobody can explain how it works but it does. Homeopathy is a crock and it doesn’t work. People die all of the time because they take homeopathic remedies over real medicine but these are reported as death by cancer, heart disease, etc. because it was disease that did them in not the homeopathy. Samuel Hahnemann, the inventor of homeopathy, died of bronchitis.

Trust

DAY 4 OF WHUMP WEEK- Torture.

I’m actually really proud of this one? It’s a bit longer than usual, and it’s very Keith-centric even though I’m whumping Lance because hi have you met me? I’m too invested in klance. I hope you enjoy!

@elsiemcclay aka the best person to run ideas and/or titles by. thanks friendo.


A groan sounded to Keith’s left, and he looked over immediately, trying to mask his relief with a glare. “Oh, good. He finally decided to wake up.”

“Hey, how many times do I have to tell you? Beauty sleep is important.” A pause. “Where are we again?”

Pidge snorted. “Guess that general hit him harder than we thought.”

“Lance! You’re okay! I was worried— that totally knocked you out, you hadn’t moved in a while,” Hunk rambled. “Does your head hurt?”

“Like hell,” Lance said, leaning back against the wall and pressing a hand to his forehead. “But nothing too serious. Thankfully, now that I’m conscious, I remember what happened. We’ve been captured, haven’t we?”

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everyone wanted this so i bring u battle couple malec + kissing in the rain enjoy!! :**

READ ON AO3

Magnus felt his magic pulse through his veins and out of his palm, blasting away another Circle member. He dodged an attack from someone to his left and kicked the guy hard in the stomach, sending him flying backwards.

Beside him, Magnus could see Alec fighting with his seraph blade against a demon. This huge fight on the beach had been nothing but brutal, and Magnus was resorting to fist fighting to preserve whatever magic he had left in the case of an emergency.

Him and Alec hadn’t even spoken since the night of Max’s procedure, after Magnus walked away from Alec and almost broke down on the elevator ride up. As soon as Magnus had heard about the attack on the beach, he ran as fast has he could. The thought of Alec in danger was almost too much to bear, and he ended up getting there in the knick of time, managing to kill a giant demon dragon with Alec and Izzy’s help before the Circle members arrived.

Now it was pouring rain, cracks of thunder rippling through the air. Lightning illuminated the battle scene, as well as various colors of warlock magic. In the midst of the fight, Magnus found himself staying by Alec’s side, and he had a feeling that Alec didn’t really want to leave his.

“Magnus!”

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On My Own (Harry Hook) Part Two

Originally posted by adisneylover92things


“You swore you’d never hurt me”

“You swore you’d never leave me On My Own

Part One, Part Two, Part Three


“Tell me this is some kind of sick joke,” You remarked, staring at the two boys in front of you. Jay and Carlos exchanged an uneasy look.

“You’re telling me you took Ben, King Ben of Auradon, to the Isle where most people want nothing more than to see him strung up by his thumbs!?” You exclaimed, suddenly ashamed to be an acquaintance of the two boys. “And you thought that he wouldn’t be kidnapped!?”

“I never said we thought it was a good idea,” Carlos mumbled, looking down at the sharp look given by you.

“And now you want me to come with you on some sort of rescue mission to get him back from Uma of all people?” You quizzed, hoping it all was just some sick joke.

“On the bright side, you can go see your dad!” Jay tried to throw in before making a grimace. “Never mind, that’s not a good thing…”

Carlos worried his lip before his face lit up. “You could rub in their faces how good you’re doing.”

“I’m in.”


Your hands were shaking by the time you reached Pirate’s Bay and laid your eyes on Uma’s ship. The crew still looked as raggedy as you remembered in their war paint. They looked like a kindergartener’s finger-painting project gone wrong.

“Hey guys! They’re here!” A pirate you could easily place as being Gil, the loveable son of Gaston, called out to the crew below him.

You could practically feel your blood pressure rising when Harry’s voice filled your head.

“Welcome!” He called, pushing a terrified Ben to the Plank. Oh how you wanted to knock that grin off his pretty little face. Without thinking your hand came to grasp at the handle of the sword tucked into your belt. Jay gave you a concerned look, as if asking if you were gonna be alright fighting against the pirate if worse came to worse.

You just gave a nod before turning to train your eyes on the blue-haired sea witch, tensing slightly from your spot beside Carlos when she mentioned the killer sharks. Dumb witch, you thought to yourself. Sharks only attacked when provoked or threatened. Auradon taught you that.

Carlos nudged you slightly, motioning with his eyes to the hook-wielding pirate that was slowly but surely making his ways towards Uma and Mal. You may not particularly like the daughter of Maleficent, but you knew how unpredictable Harry could be, so you hopped onto the wooden railing of the docks, crouching down beside Mal with a hand on your sword.

You could tell he was pretending to not notice you, anyone could see that. But you could also see that your presence was unnerving the young brunet from the way he quickly started to fly off the handle. You could only grit your teeth at Uma as she gripped his hook and pulled him away from the two of you. Though, of course the flirt couldn’t without winking and blowing a mocking kiss in your direction.

It seems time didn’t change him at all.

As he made his way back to Ben, you followed his moves, not stopping until you were directly across from the pirate. You didn’t trust him to not shove Ben off the plank for no reason. Frankly, you didn’t trust him to not hook the poor King. The thought alone put you on edge. And from the devilish grin worn by the pirate as he caught your eye, you knew that he knew exactly what was going through your mind.

You could see the grin drop when Mal moved to give Uma the wand, before being stopped by the king. You could practically smell the smoke coming from the use his rarely-operated brain. Either he was dumbfounded that his captain’s plan actually worked… or he knew something was off, he knew there was no way Mal would give up the wand that easily.

You really hoped it was the first option.

You were relieved when he dropped the look, replaced by a grin at Ben trying to bargain with Uma. Maybe he was dumber than he looked. You knew it was a lie, but the thought made you feel better about your breakup all those months ago. Because, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you’re a petty ex.

Panic began to set in once Uma demanded Mal prove the wand worked. You guys were screwed. But, like usual, Mal prevailed, using Dude-the-now-talking-dog to fake a spell.

“Give me the wand!” Uma demanded seconds later, holding her hand out. Was she always this demanding?

“Give me Ben!” Mal shot back. Uma gave her a grin before calling Harry over. Once again, you followed his movements to be by Mal’s side. You may not have been the strongest, but you knew Harry’s weak spots if Uma were to try and trick you.

You gave a slight laugh as you heard Gil inform Ben about how Gaston wishes he had finished off Ben’s dad when he had a chance. You knew it was true as it was the only thing Gaston ever spoke about. Well, that and Belle. And how incredibly thick his neck is…..You made sure to not come across him often.

Harry pushed Ben to the ground in front of Mal before drawing his sword, you made sure to do the same. You raised your gaze to meet his when he spoke.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Don’t ya trust me, lass?” He asked softly, a mocking pout forming on his face. But, it didn’t match the wickedness in his eyes.

“Cut him loose, Harry,” Uma instructed, eyes trained on Mal and the wand. Harry gave a huff, “I never get to have any fun.”

“Yeah, Harry, listen to your Master,” You remarked, smirking at the evil glare you received in return. Like you said before, you’re a petty ex.

Mal pulled Ben away from the two pirates as Uma rushed to the deck of her ship. Harry lingered, eyes not leaving yours before slowly following his Captain. You had to help Mal pull Ben away from the ship. He wasn’t the brightest King if he didn’t see through the plan. You suddenly worried if your life was in the right hands if he couldn’t tell it was a fake wand.

Uma quickly snapped the plastic wand in two upon realizing it was a fake. And then all hell broke loose. Smoke bombs and pirates alike were flying through the air as you suddenly regretted not practicing sword fighting since you left the Isle.

“Please don’t let me get my hand cut off. I don’t wanna look like Harry’s dad,” you whined before joining in on the fight.


Your eyes widened as you spotted Harry jumping into the water after his father’s hook. Though, you didn’t miss the opportunity to snatch his hat up from the dock. You placed it on your head with a smirk, “Mine now!”

Turning around and quickly ducking, you narrowly avoided getting your head cut off by an overly salty pirate. Pausing to giggle quickly at your own joke, you swiped the sword out of his hand, followed by a swift kick to the crotch that knocked him onto his knees. “Honestly, does she not train you guys at all? It’s almost sad,” You tsked, pushing him off the dock and into the water.

You cussed under your breath when you noticed Ben going against Harry, but then paused. Harry Hook, the son of a pirate, whom would try to behead anyone that dared look at his sisters wrong, was undoubtedly… getting his ass handed to him by a King that had never been in an actual sword fight in his life, literally with one hand behind his back. And it. Was. Hilarious.

“Y/N, come on!” Carlos called out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to the tunnel after Evie threw a smoke bomb right in front of the pirates.

Pausing by the disoriented son of Hook, you placed his hat on top of his head before running to join the others. You spared the drenched pirate one last glance before disappearing into the tunnel.

Leaving him alone. Again.


“I know he’s on your mind, Y/N,” the voice of the daughter of Mulan filled your ears as you stared over the side of the boat to the Isle.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lonnie,” You replied quietly, even though you both knew it was a lie. You knew exactly who she was talking about.

“I’m sure Harry did miss you. He just couldn’t show it with that Uma girl there,” She soothed, rubbing your back gently. You shook your head, turning to lean your back against the rails. she had just been informed on the situation on the ride from Auradon to the Isle, when you had to explain it was the Captain of your ex boyfriend that had taken the king hostage.

“That’s the problem. Even when we were together he was always Uma this, Uma that, Uma- Uma!?”

You failed to hide your surprise (and rage) at seeing the sea witch as she made her way down the stairs to where King Ben stood. You and Lonnie shared a look before rushing over to Mal’s side. You were no expert on relationships- but even you knew that you definitely did not bring your girlfriend’s worst enemy on a date to a dance you’re supposed to be with your girlfriend at.

And the worst thing was, as she stood before you, dressed in a beautiful gown that matched the blue of her hair you could see exactly why Harry would want her instead of you.


“Harry, the cotillion’s on!” The blonde boy yelled to his friend, whom was busy brooding by the window of Ursula’s fish and Chips. Gil sighed, walking over to the brunet. “Staring at Auradon won’t make you any closer to her, you know. But you can see her on TV.”

The pirate stared at him silently before walking to the table in front of the television. He could feel tears well up in his eyes at the sight of you. He missed you a lot, and it took all of his willpower to not show it when you came to the ship. But, he was scared you would try to stay if you knew how pitiful he was without you. He loved you, and there was no doubt about that. But he couldn’t give you everything you deserved if you came back to the Isle. He wanted you to be happy, even if it meant being away from him.

He took a shaky breath, wiping his eyes.

“You look beautiful, lass.”


A few days after the Cotillion Disaster, you were called into the King’s office. From what the letter you received said (though you didn’t see why he just didn’t tell you in one of your many classes together) it was urgent business, not to be discussed with anyone else. You never thought a two minute conversation could have such an impact on your way of breathing.

“After seeing how harsh the conditions are on the Isle, I have decided to bring a few more kids to Auradon,” Ben stated, standing up from his seat behind his desk.

You raised an eyebrow, watching him carefully, “And what does that have to do with me?” You asked.

Ben cleared his throat, awkwardly coming to stand in front of you. This can’t be good.

“Y/N, there’s no easy way to say this after you risked your life to rescue me from the Isle so I’m just going to say it,” He began, arm sliding around your shoulders to give you a friendly, and suspicious, squeeze.

“Harry Hook is coming to Auradon.”





A/N: So, what do you guys think? Is it good enough to have a part three?

Shape of You

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Y/N (Reader), Jared Padalecki (mentioned), Misha Collins (mentioned)

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Objectification of reader (sorta - he means well), Implied smut, smut, Dry Humping, Oral (69), unsafe sex (wrap it before you tap it), training kink (is that a thing?), rough(ish) sex, NSFW gifs under the cut.    

Word Count: 3500ish

A/N: This is me proving to myself I still remember how to smut. I haven’t written anything smutty for the longest of times and I have been feeling like it lately. It was harder than I thought getting back into the saddle though. Sorry if it is a bit rough - pun not intended.

It is somewhat inspired by the Ed Sheeran song Shape of You - and maybe a little by the video too.

Thanks to the sweet amazing @mysupernaturalfics for betaing this for me.

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

“Fuck,” she breathed out, instantly drawing Jensen’s attention. He was sprawled out his couch, waiting for Y/N to return to his side. It was movie night and she hadn’t bothered leaving the room to take the phone call. Jensen never eaves dropped and even if he was to overhear something it wouldn’t matter. There was nothing to two of them hid from each other. Literally nothing.

They had both been single for a while and some drunken night they had come to the conclusion, that helping each other blow off some steam when either of them needed it was much prefered from picking up some random dude or chick at a bar.

“If you want I am game,” Jensen teased her, throwing her his best Dean smirk, making her eyes roll so hard he was sure Jared would hear it across the hall from Jensen’s apartment.

“It’s not funny, Jensen! They offered me the part. I’m gonna be Wonder Woman,” she complained, making Jensen shoot from the couch and wrap her in his arms, spinning her around the air not caring one bit about her objection.

“That’s amazing Y/N/N,” he laughed putting her down but not releasing her from his hold, “what are you so worried about?” Jensen gently stroked her hair away from her face, studying her face and trying to figure out why she wasn’t over the moon about this. She had a tendency to overthink things. He knew that. He literally spent 2 hours on the floor of her bedroom leaning against her bathroom door trying to talk her out after the first night they had slept together.

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