i have a story behind it i hope it's quite clear

Hey guys! I’ve told you before that I’m a writer so this is a hella long post because it’s track-by-track. Unapologetically so. Hope you guys enjoy x 

TRACK 1: “… READY FOR IT?

 This song is a battlecry. The thumping bass brings to mind the heavy thud of wolves paws as they race towards their prey, seeking the trail left by a girl who used to leave her heart open and on her sleeve, ready to be snatched at any moment in a snap of their jaws. But no more. From the moment she clears her throat, we learn this battle will be on Taylor’s terms. It is her fight to win.

This is the first love song she’s released and had complete artistic ownership of in three years. It is no coincidence then that there’s reference to the tortured passions of Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. They were a couple hopelessly and dangerously in love with many scars carved on their hearts by the other’s knife. This reference is a throwaway to the long list of ex lovers the girl who bathes in diamonds has had but also a reference to the flickers of hope Taylor feels for longevity no matter what with Joe. Their road may be complicated at times but they will get  there because the game is hers. The constant question of ready for it and in response baby let the games begin is so obviously a call of warning to Joe for what lies ahead but perhaps more subtly it is the call of Taylor’s inner voices and heart to her razor sharp self awareness. Is she ready for the games to begin? Is she ready to open her heart and give Joe a chance to be a better man?

TRACK 2: “END GAME” ft. Ed Sheeran & Future:

This song starts off with Taylor’s declaration that she wants to find a forever. It sounds sincere, gentle, wearied, the tone of the too often heartbroken. But then it shifts, it’s like the rose coloured glasses have come off and she’s reminded of her reputation. Then it’s all tongue in cheek sarcastic satire to keep the smile in place so that we don’t see how much it hurts. She has to weigh up every interaction in the context of her reputation. The addition of Ed & Future speaks volumes; one is a time trusted friend who has finally found a bright love of his own but that was not without heartbreak and the other gives her an edgier attitude that makes her self awareness all the more powerful.

There has been a further loss of innocence in this sharpening of her self awareness, gone are the wistful days of “say you’ll remember me”, that’s all I want. Now it’s all “I don’t wanna touch you, I don’t wanna be just another ex love you don’t wanna see.” She can see the fall right from the start but this time she opts out and says unless I’m your end game… because I don’t want to pick up any more pieces of my broken heart.

Also: Shoutout to Ed for his Cherry inspired verse. It made me feel many emotions too. SWEERAN THRIVES.

TRACK 3: “I DID SOMETHING BAD.”

The girl with the long list of ex lovers is back. However with the casually explicit twist, this narrative seems layered with perceptions and recognition of self-worth, “If a man talks shit, I owe him nothing.” This is drip-feeding the media exactly what they want, she’s stoking the fire herself. But in feeding the fire herself, she’s sending the burning embers back at them. Did you really think the girl who you used as an international rod for slut shaming would stay quiet forever? Nope. She doesn’t care if you burn her like a witch at the stake because she’s already done it. She’s burnt away all of the misplaced guilt and is now revelling in how good they felt in the moment. In fact, watch out she’s blazing with all the fire of a phoenix reborn and you might just get turned to ash.

TRACK 4: “DON’T BLAME ME.”

This & “I Did Something Bad” sound like sister tracks. The girl who jetsets around the world collecting men isn’t quite finished with her tale yet. She reminds us that defining her relationships by their headlines and paparazzi shots is a foolish move because those things are  one-dimensional. Taylor believes in love and this is her way of reminding us that there was love in every escapade of her heart up until now, at least at some point. She’s talking about the heady rushes head spinning intoxication of first glances and hands on skin and it doesn’t matter what the media says about the way she handles relationships because they forget love and that makes you crazy. Maybe in their minds the drug she refers to is not a singular identity but a collective “baby” and to them love will always be something she “uses”. But the heart wants what it wants and Taylor knows that so it doesn’t really matter.

TRACK 5: “DELICATE.”

This is the kind of song that happens when you cut the cord that is the boy crazy perception of yourself. You step back into the shadows and disappear so that they can’t find you. You close your heart, lock your doors and rebuild. And then he shows up. This is a cautionary songpp because Taylor can obviously feel sparks but… she’s just started to rebuild and if they find out the wolf hunt begins again. With delicate disbelieving vocals, we see Taylor start to realise that he can’t possibly want to gain anything from her reputation because it’s so bad… The wheels turn in her head. I imagine the realisation, “Wait so he must like me for me?” With the beat drop comes hope. Details are slowly given and then he stays. He doesn’t run so Taylor gives him pieces of herself; confessions thoughts and then her brain catches up with her mouth and the wheels come to a grinding halt: Her inner monologue screams it was too much too fast. We’ve all been there. It’s too delicate. No going back now. It’ll break and I’ll be left alone. Maybe one day I’ll find someone who doesn’t walk away, one day too.

TRACK 6: “LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO.”

The world tore a girl to shreds, made her play the fool on tilted stages. She retreated and rebuilt. Now the fool is dead. From here on out, she only trusts her army. With high heeled boots, red lips and words as sharp as daggers, she’s cutting herself a path. She is taking no prisoners and she’s accompanied by a savage snake because she and her army will always be better at the game. When she’s finished hunting down your asses, she’ll sit back on her throne with a high pitched giggle and say, “oh look what you made me do.”

TRACK 7:  “SO IT GOES…”

When people are watching, you have to be careful. Cover your tracks. Taylor doesn’t leave her heart open or on display anymore. But then they leave. The door shuts. You lock it with a key and the crashing chemistry you’ve been trying to deny slams into your ribs, knocking the breath out of you. It’s stolen kisses, careless touches, reckless chasing of the high. Body language is a fluency all its own. But a quick reminder before you unlock the door and venture out again; wash the lipstick off your face. *clears throat* you got a little caught up in the moment and you don’t want to blow your cover!

TRACK 8: “GORGEOUS.”

 The childish proclamation of the title to begin this next glimpse into Reputation  is hinting at the satirical inner monologue that this song is , reminiscent of the times you write your crush’s  last name instead of your own to see how it fits. It’s all giggles and late night phone calls, the kind Taylor most likely had with Abigail where they talked real slow because it was late and their mamas didn’t know (: However, it could also serve as a projection of the runaway daydream that fills Taylor’s mind from that very first night when she stumbles home alone to her cats, of what a possible future might look like (with kids one day) The lazy liquor loosened rhythms of Taylor’s thoughts tell us things she hasn’t admitted fully yet but will soon on nights at 4am staring at her reflection  in the bathroom mirror, telling herself the bravest thing she ever did was run - that this gorgeous  swoonworthy British boy with his careless touches and drawling accent has awakened the possibility of something better. This realisation rattles Taylor as she contemplates the gaps in her current relationship. *cue wistful sighs of frustration and enchantment, set to the dialogue of every teenage movie where the girl thinks the boy is just too good looking, how unfair is that?

TRACK 9: “GETAWAY CAR.”

The thing about any movie that has a getaway car scene is that they inevitably crash…. And that’s exactly what happens here. Except, the carnage is human hearts. She was running. There was a person she crashed into. It gets all blurred and tangled, she thinks she’s free but the thing about those movies is that the thing you ran from in the getaway car catches up to you particularly if there’s a track you can follow. Oceans of distance weren’t enough, darling. You needed to disappear. And I think she realises that  but she tries to pretend innocence and will the sunset closer. Unfortunately  the only real  way to untangle yourself is to disappear crying in the back of a getaway car in the dead of night. Without a word. That must have hurt a lot.

TRACK 10: “KING OF MY HEART.”

This song happens in tandem with Delicate. She’d sworn off love. Joe turned up. The British boy with the heart of gold who made his American queen believe. He made behind closed doors a paradise of rooftop nights. Before she knows it, he is every love story Taylor has ever daydreamed of. The line “is this the end to all the endings” made my heart swell because it’s clear Taylor hopes he’s the one. Please let there be no more heartbreak.

TRACK 11: “DANCING WITH OUR HANDS TIED.”

Dancing is supposed to be a joyous thing and maybe it was in the beginning. You can reassure with every beat. Sometimes your gut instinct shouldn’t be ignored though  because it does raise red flags. The door only needs to be fractionally ajar for the hunters to find a way in and set your paradise aflame. It sometimes doesn’t matter how much you dance to escape the flames, they will catch you. You will get tired. Dancing is a bliss that is euphoria swimmimg through your veins if the beat enters your bloodstream in the right moment; you feel like you could live forever. And in the end no matter how much it might hurt to walk away again, you would still dance for just another kick of that rush.

TRACK 12: “DRESS.”

Taylor’s caught up in the chemical rush. Every syllable drips with lust and the glory of the high when your hearts crash into each other, slamming the breath from between your ribs. It’s hands in hair and I don’t care what they think. It’s seeing the worst (hi bleachella) and still wanting. It’s realising you made mistakes before this and why didn’t you just do this from the beginning because it feels so good now you can’t ever have imagined wanting anything else. But every mistake is a marker in the roadmap and you woke up just in time to find where you needed to be.

TRACK 13: “THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS.”

I think everyone’s been in this situation, right? Someone burns you and it hurts but in the fun of a party, you click and connect again and it all starts to feel like water under the bridge. Maybe there was over-reacting happening. You throw them a second chance. Redemption. You’re the nice girl and you make excuses. But then they do it again, maybe it takes a couple of things and suddenly it’s too much. You lock the gate for your own safety. But they still expect you not to care. To flash a smile and forgive. I’m sorry. That’s not happening. You get hurt when I push back. I guess I should forgive you because we both threw stones. But… that would require me to mean it. Whoops, *laughs manaically* I can’t even say it with a straight face!!!

PS: It’s not too obvious I have personal experience with this song is it? Thanks KS x.

TRACK 14: “CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT.”

This song is difficult for me to process because I never thought it would actually happen. I seem to remember somewhere along the way, a couple of years back, Taylor expressing frustration that she couldn’t seem to write happy songs about being in love like Ed Sheeran could. Well, I wish you could go back Taylor and tell yourself what you know now.

This song is a three minute ode to happy love. It’s smiles so wide you might split your face in half at the thought of that person. It’s blushing and shy giggles and bursts of song and twirls and all caps texts from your girls as they collectively lose their minds over how happy you are. This is every love story and fairytale Taylor has ever wanted but the wolves are always waiting, not so easy to outrun. 

Taylor says it herself in the  opening lines. She was done. The castle had crumbled. The bricks left bruises blooming on her exposed skin. People were tearing her down and she was hurting. Her heart had been shattered but so had her soul, again and again, relentlessly. And then she retreated, went silent and rebuilt. What she didn’t count on was love. A man who saw all the bruises and broken pieces and said it’s OK, I can still find the real you under all that. Taylor like so many of us looked in the mirror and saw all the danger for herself and for Joe, tried to push him away, keep him safe. That’s a very noble action but breaking your own heart so it doesn’t hurt as much when you feel like the other shoe is going to drop requires apathy from the other person. And Joe, god bless you, you didn’t let her push you away. You broke down her walls and showed you that starlight love does still exist. You loved her for Taylor. The person. You got her to give love a chance when she swore never again so thank you so much for that. I can’t really express how much that means to all of us. 

 This is an anthem of hope for every person who has ever been broken and is in the process of putting pieces back together. It can be done. We will find love. We will be radiantly happy again. We will be the strongest we’ve ever been. 

PS: *leans over to whisper in Taylor’s ear*

I think you’re finally clean…

TRACK 15: “NEW YEARS DAY.”

Piano on the final track… This is an ode of pure hope and happiness, a fitting final chapter to a remarkable story. Everyone wants the glory of the midnights and the lover who will be in their bloodstream like the party. But what we all hope for is someone who stays long enough to help us clean up the bottles on New Years Day. Someone who makes us feel like the messy unfiltered parts look like a highlight reel. Good times and bad times and all in between. They won’t leave. You found him. Forever.

This album is fucking brilliant Taylor. I love you. Proud x.

@taylorswift @taylornation @brian-mansfield

Haven’t Seen Her

Title: Haven’t Seen Her

Author: SomeonexSomeone

Pairing: Jacksepticeye x fem!reader

Word Count: 1766 

Summary: Jack has a new girlfriend?

A/N: This story is told as the reader is female. For my NonBinary/Male pals out there, if you would like for me to rewrite the story with genderless pronouns, just let me know and I’ll get it up as soon as possible

Originally posted by riciehmon

Jack had a new girlfriend. The internet was buzzing, his community talking about it on every form of social media. Who had managed to catch the eye of the sweet, loud, Irish boy? More importantly, how had they not noticed? The clues should have been as clear as day, not to mention all the times he mentioned you.

       The first time he mentioned you, it was a passing remark. No one really took notice of it, too occupied laughing and focused on what the Irish man was doing. Smiling, he held up a handful of containers, and a small note with scribbles on it.


       “So, I got my make up here that was so generously loaned to me. (Y/N) put a little list here for me so I knew what order to put them on.”

       The second time was a few months later, when he was doing a new and improved house tour. Not much changed, though it was always entertaining to watch the shaky camera and the happy voice accompanying it.

       “This plant is very pretty. Its not mine though, I’m just watching over it while (Y/N) visits her family.”

       Yet, the fans still didn’t seem to pick up on anything. Sure, there were a few comments here and there about what he had said, but they were buried deep in the comments section, covered by links and click bait ads.

       The third time sparked interest within his community, more and more people noticing your name popping up here and there, casually as if he had already told them who you were. Had he? Or was this a new development?

       “What’s my favourite memory of 2015? Oh, that’d have to be the time a bunch of my friends and I went on a group camping trip. It was amazing. I never really get to hang out with people as much, not that I’m complaining or anything. It was just nice to get away for the weekend. (Y/N) and I had canoed down the river, and almost got lost if it wasn’t for her being smart enough to bring a compass.”

       By now, theories began to pop up. Did Jack get a girlfriend? An old family friend? A neighbour? No one could figure it out, and Jack had given them no clues. People began writing stories, drawing art, trying to guess who you were and what you looked like. It wasn’t until the four incident, when they finally got some clue into who you were.

       “Top of the morning to you laddies. My name is Jacksepticeye!”

       Thousands of people watched in confusion as Jack sat in front of the screen, his face being the only thing seen, awe and confusion on his face as he looked off screen, and not the game that was put in the title. That wasn’t the only thing that was off. The voice of the intro, however, wasn’t his. It was a woman’s voice, melodic and teasing as she practically screamed the line he was known for. Jack laughed, slouching over the table slightly before quickly standing up, only the corner of his jaw seen of his face, whispering something to someone off screen. There was a laugh, then Jack getting pushed back into view of the camera, before the video reset, playing the intro as it should have been, as if nothing had happened. An arm, a hand, and a glimpse of hair was all they got, but it was enough to explode the internet.  

       The fifth incident was different than the others. It was a vlog, nothing too unusual for Jack to do every now and then. However, this time, he stood in front of a hair salon, his green hair faded so much it was practically yellow.

       “Top of the morning to you laddies! My name is Jacksepticeye, and welcome to another vlog! I know I’ve been doing quite a few of these lately, but this time, I’ve brought you to the hairdresser! Tons of people asked me to show me going to get my haired dyed, and the process of it. And in order to not bore myself. I’ve brought along a friend!”

       There was a cheerful hello in the background, but Jack hadn’t turned the camera, the voice hidden, and the person unknown. Was this (Y/N)? The girl that had started showing up in Jacks videos more and more? The audience waited in anticipation, enjoying themselves already.

       The video continues, Jack doing things here and there, cracking a few jokes and introducing the lady who was dying his hair. However, it was soon obvious whom he had brought with him, as the same name rang out half way through, and a woman walking behind Jack as he filmed himself looking in the mirror. The mystery girl had returned. Fans eagerly watched, hoping to catch another glimpse of her. However, the only thing they got was Jack retelling a joke you had said, or repeating a funny comment while you laughed in the background. It wasn’t until the end, when you were revealed again.

       “Don’t I look soooooo pretty!”

       Jack’s voice was high pitched, hands pulling your hair so it curled over his head, which was partially dyed to match his, as he smiled sweetly into the camera. You laughed from behind him, quickly stealing the camera, and your hair back, from his hands and flipping the camera to filming him. However, the camera had turned to your face, and for a split second, the world saw your face.

       Twitter blew up minutes after the vlog was posted, the hashtag #WhoIsJack’sNewGirlfriend? spread like wildfire, single shots of your blurry face everywhere.


       The sixth mention, wasn’t as much as a mention, but more a video. The video was titled “HAPPY WHEELS CHALLENGE…WITH A GUEST?!?!”, no mention of who it was, or if they had been on a video with him before. Fans spectated the video, starting with the intro, just as it always was. However, the camera was placed differently, so that Jack was completely visible till his waist. His arms were behind him, and two smaller hands replaced them, high-fiving the air beside the camera. Jack laughed as the hand totally failed, but continued to do his intro.

       "Top of the morning to you laddies! My name is Jacksepticeye, and welcome back to…HAPPY WHEELS! I have a very special guest with me today, (Y/N)! And this is a very stupid video we decided to do, because why not?! I’m going to have my arms behind my back, and (Y/N) is going to control the game for me, but she can’t see a thing! Hopefully this wont be a total disaster!“

       The video was full of laughs, screams, and Jacks new hands smacking his shoulder several times, which just made them laugh harder. It was hard not to laugh along, especially when Jack kept screaming while (Y/N) tried to do a spike fall. The fans hoped that they could at least see a small view of your face, however, Jacks back and shoulders covered everything that could have been seen.

       The seventh and final instance, was when the truth came out.

       Jack was filming another reading your comments video, a half a year after you were first mentioned. He started the first few as he normally did, a few silly one, a few serious ones with silly answers, and one serious one. And then, the moment of truth.

“Jack, can you please tell us who (Y/N) is? You’ve mentioned her a lot recently, and I know I’m not the one wondering. I’ve seen a lot of these comments recently, and yes, I have seen them and haven’t answered them. (Y/N) is a very special person to me, and I respect her enough not to be forcing her to do things she doesn’t want to do. She enjoys her privacy, and can be shy sometimes, so I don’t want to be forcing her to sit with me on camera, or be constantly filming what we do. When (Y/N) and I hang out, I don’t have to pretend with her. Not that I’m saying I pretend when I talk to you guys, but when I film, I constantly have to make things interesting, keep the energy going. (Y/N) is my rock, and I couldn’t imagine her not being in my life. When she’s ready, maybe she’ll introduce herself to you, but for now, please don’t pressure her into anything she doesn’t want to do. If you haven’t figured it out, (Y/N) is my girlfriend. We’ve been dating for almost eight months now, and honestly I’m so happy. I love her to death, and I hope you guys will love her just as much as I do. Okay, maybe not that much.”

       He ended the question with a giggle, and that was that.
     
       Of course you were mentioned more and more over the course of the year, Jacks face lighting up at your name and the stories he told. He apologized most of the time when a story got away from him about the two of you, but instead if receiving hate or comments that told him they didn’t want to hear stories about you, all the comments were positive. They loved hearing stories about you, about the life Jack had outside of YouTube. As soon as he started mentioning you, others did as well. Mark, Felix, and even Ken mentioned you at least once in their videos, excited for Jack and happy that he found someone to love as much as they had. Mark of course had to be the odd man out and have a whole story on one of his videos, but the fans loved it, laughing about how you got lost at the mall with them and had to huddle next to him until you two managed to find Jack again.

       It wasn’t until a year and a half later, when you were finally introduced to the world. It wasn’t a video like most hoped, a picture was what revealed you. Your face wasn’t in it completely, you were turned away, just the side of your face being seen, but Jack was full center. The pictured seemed almost better than a video when everyone saw the smiles on yours and Jacks face as he held your hand up, a ring on your ring finger sparkling in the light, did they realize that they didn’t need to see you to know that you made Jack incredibly happy. And that was enough for them.

Lost in the Dark

Summary: Fairytales and fables exist for a reason. James knows too well; he’s the main character of one. 

Pairing: demon!Bucky Barnes x princess!Reader

Warnings: language, suspense [it’s not that scary tbh]

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Here is my submission for my hoe’s @rotisserierogers writing challenge. Sorry that it sucks; I am no good when it comes to scary things, so hopefully y’all like it? [prompt is bolded] | masterlist

Originally posted by enchanted-forests


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anonymous asked:

Do you have any Toon Ocs inspired by Batim? If so, could you show us what they look like & tell us all about them please?

Actually I do, right now I have three main ones that I’ve been toying with in the Mobster AU that @thelostmoongazer​ has goin. 

The first is this little prick: 

His name is Avelle, and to give you a very short summary he is a lawyer. This arrogant wiseass of a boy specializes in getting folks with unsavory lines of employment out of uncomfortable legal positions. He will do just about anything to make sure that his clients get off the hook, even if that means breaking a few laws along the way to get there. Doesn’t matter if its legal as long as it gets done.

Don’t let his youthful size and face fool you, this kid is no angel. If anything he’s an asshole that is blatantly ruthless with his words. It doesn’t matter to him who you are this sassy pants will call you out on your shit. Now can he match those with his fists? Not in the least, he is a brains over brawn kind of boy. He’d rather disable you with black mail and verbal warfare than he would going to blows. Not without  good reason the boy is a silver tongued devil despite the halo lookin’ thing on his head.

However because of his childish face he often has to deal with being underestimated or disregarded due to it. He despises being treated like a kid and despite his collected exterior will quickly be gritting his teeth when treated as such. 

Due to his choice of employment he plays his cards close to his chest and does his best to maintain a wall of professionalism between him and his rather hostile clients. Kid moves quite often to put it lightly, and as he puts it, ‘he’ll find you not the other way around.’ 

The second character is this girlie:

Angelica Mariani, the she-devil with a conscience.

 This lovely lady is a proud officer of the Toon Town PD and hoping to someday move up the chain of command and slip into the detective position. She has a very black and white way of seeing the world, no cartoon pun intended. In her mind there being a very clear moral division between ‘good’ and ‘bad’ without leaving much space for a gray area. 

Angelica has trouble letting go over things that get under her skin, or people for that matter, and tends to dwell on matters far longer than she should. This quality would make her have a great future as a detective should she prove herself, however it also means she can’t put down a theoretical bone once she begins to chew on it. Officer Mariani has a terrible habit of charging forward with cases she has little jurisdiction over on her off duty hours, between volunteering for community service events, and frequently ends up winding herself in several dangerous predicaments. 

Despite her best efforts to be a ‘good cop’ she is often put in the uncomfortable position of breaking the law. Mainly due to the fact that the before mentioned lawyer has some rather big dirt of this good willed officer and uses it to get not so legal ‘favors’ from her while twisting her arm a little for it. She hates the lawyer child for this fact and is trying to find her way out of his blackmail. 

 And the final lady is this Angel: 

Ilissa Onria, or Duchess as she sometime goes by. 

Despite her fluffy wings and halo, this darling is more a demon than any other characters mentioned before. A cunning woman that uses her words and appearance to lull those around her into a sense of comfort before snapping her trap shut upon them. 

She comes from a proud family name that sought to spread influence through the bonding of her marriage with another. Despite her arguments against this she was still wed to this individual. Tragically, and perhaps predictably, it was a very short marriage. Her husband being killed by a servant that had ‘fancied’ her, as the story goes at least, not a year after their wedding. This left her a widow with a small fortune and her wanna-be-lover taking a bath in some acetone after a few weeks in jail. A very convenient set of events for the unhappy house wife that seem to have cleaned themselves up for her without her needing to raise a finger. 

Shortly after her husbands painfully unexpected death she took it upon herself to absorb his business assets and take on the work that he had left behind. Primarily the mob related ventures he had invested himself into before his passing.

Ilissa is an ambitious woman with her eyes on the big prizes in life, not willing to trifle with insignificant points that would turn out to be meaningless in the long run.  When she sees something she wants, she takes it. Doesn’t if it is a item, a area, or a person. If she wants it, she gets it. Suppose you could say behind all the flamboyant manipulation she is a greedy child at heart, although this child does carry a gun beneath her feathers.

So there’s a small recap on three of my characters, guess now that they’re out there I can stop sitting on this pile of art I’ve been hoarding. 

Imagine you tried to rob a wizard's tower

The cold stone walls close in on you. There’s fresh, clean straw under you and an empty bucket in one corner. A torch burns resolutely in the hallway. You knew this was a stupid idea. One of the boys in your village convinced you that the wizard is a fraud, that his potions are sugar water and his magical talismans are useless bits of junk. The boy dared you to sneak into the wizard’s tower, steal something, and bring it back. You agreed, but mostly to shut him up. You’re not afraid of the wizard or his alleged power. There’s no such thing as magic, after all.


The wizard’s tower was just outside of the village, at the edge of the forest. If it had any kind of guards or defenders, you’d never seen them. You snuck in through a crack in the wall and looked through shelves of bones and crystals and things you couldn’t even identify, searching for something small enough to slip into your pocket. You were startled by a noise behind you, and even more startled when you turned to look at the source. A little humanlike figure, about the size of a pigeon, sat perched on a shelf and grinned at you. It spread out its batlike wings and said something in a language you’d never heard, a few syllables that echoed strangely in the small room. Everything went black, and when you woke up, you were in a cell.

So here you are, imprisoned. There’s a man looking at you through the barred door. He’s a short and slight, with a neatly trimmed beard. You’ve seen him before, hawking the wizard’s wares in the village market, all smiles and lofty promises as he peddled healing potions and fertility charms. He is not smiling now.

“Why did you invade my tower?” he asks. “Go on, let’s hear it.”

You’ve always assumed that he was actually the wizard’s assistant, or just a hireling. He looks nothing like you’ve always pictured wizards. He’s wearing a look of extreme annoyance and the kind of tunic and trousers that wouldn’t look out of place on the village innkeeper. You don’t know what you expected. Elaborate robes and a long gray beard. For some unknowable reason, you’re unwise enough to say so.

“The robes are only for ceremonial use,” he says. “They are dreadfully uncomfortable. I can’t be bothered to wear them all the time. You break into my home, and now you expect me to walk around draped in all that nonsense just to meet your expectations?”

Lost for words, you can only shake your head.

“And what about you?” he asks, crossing his arms. “Why are you here? I warn you, I won’t take pity on you no matter how heartrending your story is. Your mother’s dying from some horrible disease the healers have never seen before? Is it your sister? Are your crops failing? I rather liked the thief who said he needed a lucky charm so he could win enough gold to pay off his gambling debts. I can imagine how he got into trouble in the first place.”

“A boy in the village dared me,” you admit, and your voice comes out as little more than a whisper. It sounds pathetic even to you. Your heart is pounding and if you weren’t still on the ground, you’d probably collapse anyway. “I only said yes so he’d shut up. I didn’t even take anything. I swear, I’ll never come here again-” You trail off as the words die in your throat.

The wizard closes his eyes and sighs deeply. “Those charms I sell in the market? Those are mere trinkets,” he says. “Little things to keep the villagers happy. You have no idea what I can really do. If you ran off with something really dangerous, you could unleash horrors you can’t even imagine. I mean hellfire raining from the skies, cattle transforming into ravenous beasts. And that would be the least of it. You could end the world.”

“I’m sorry,” you try to say, but it just comes out as a squeaking noise.

He’s still glaring at you, but something in his expression actually seems to soften a little. “Still, you’re honest,” he says. “That’s a rare trait.”

“Are you going to let me go?” you ask.

The little winged creature is sitting on his shoulder. It chitters at you and draws one slender finger across its throat.

The wizard smiles coldly. “Eventually,” he says. “I can’t let intruders just run off on their merry way. You might decide to pay me a return visit. Or tell someone that I’m soft on thievery.” He pulls a bottle out of his pocket and holds it up to the bars. It’s clear glass, with a cork trapping some clear reddish liquid inside. “Here’s the deal. Drink this, endure what’s going to happen to you, and then you can go. Don’t drink it, and you’ll stay locked in this cell forever or until I find another use for you and all those delightful organs of yours. You would not believe what you can do with a human spleen.”

You hesitate. “Endure” is a very scary word, considering your current situation. But he did promise to let you go, and whatever that potion does can’t be worse than staying locked up forever. At least, you hope not.

The potion bottle clinks against cold iron as you pull it through the bars.. It’s heavier than it looks. “What is it?” you ask, studying the contents. “What’s going to happen to me if I drink this?”

“And ruin the surprise? It will hurt,” he says. “It won’t kill you. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have bothered with the cell or dangling the thought of freedom out in front of you. I’m not that sadistic. Well, I am. But only sometimes.”

It’s still not very reassuring, but what he’s saying makes sense. He hasn’t hurt you so far, besides locking you up. And to be honest, taking his offer is the best option you have available. “Okay,” you say. “I’ll drink it. And then do you swear by the Light that you’ll let me go?”

The wizard is quiet for a moment. “The Light and I are not on particularly good terms,” he says. “But if it puts you more at ease, I swear by the Light that I’ll release you alive and unharmed.”

Somehow, it doesn’t put you at ease at all. But you believe him.

You try to open the potion bottle. The cork’s wedged in tightly and your hands are shaking too hard to pull it out. The little winged creature flutters off the wizard’s shoulder, flies right through the door, and lands beside you. Its agile fingers work the cork out easily, and the creature holds the bottle out to you expectantly. The potion smells like herbs and something you can’t quite identify.

“My familiar will have to stay here to keep you company,” says the wizard. “I can see through its eyes, and it is rather stronger than it appears. I’d advise against trying anything. Now, drink that so I can get back to work.”

Closing your eyes, you swallow the bottle’s contents. It tastes overly sweet and your throat tingles afterwards. You’re tingling all over, actually, and you can feel something shifting deep inside of you. There’s a twinge of pain deep in your belly. “What did I just drink?” you ask, trying to fight off a feeling of impending doom. “What’s happening to me?”

The wizard’s already setting off down the hallway. “You’ll see,” is all he says.

***

The familiar can’t seem to sit still. It paces up and down the length of your cell, occasionally flying out through the walls and back again. Whenever you try the walls they’re solid rock; the familiar must be able to pass through them magically. Once, you get up to try the door but the familiar just chitters at you menacingly. You sit back down and try to ignore the growing ache in your belly.

It started out as a mild annoyance, so slight you thought you were imagining it. Now it feels like someone’s punched you in the belly; not hard, but it hurts enough to be distracting. It feels like hours have passed but aside from the stomachache, nothing else seems to be happening to you. Maybe the potion really was sugar water after all. Or maybe it just didn’t work. You hope it didn’t work. Then the wizard’ll have to let you go just like he promised, right?

Your clothes are getting tighter around your middle. That’s odd. As you reach down to put a hand on your stomach, an icy rush of panic fills you. Your belly’s growing. It’s slow at first, but it soon starts growing faster. Eventually you have to strip out of your clothes just to make room for your new bulk. Once, a woman in the village gave birth to twins, and you’re bigger now than she ever was. You sit with your back against the cold stone wall and watch as you grow bigger and bigger, pinned beneath your own growing belly. Whatever’s inside you, it’s so heavy that you’re not sure you could stand up if you tried to. You run your hands over your belly, oddly fascinated by the feeling of it under your fingers. Your curiosity almost overcomes the fear.

Something slick is running out of you and down your legs to pool in the straw bedding. You wonder what’s inside you, and if it’s close to being born. Some kind of creature? You’ve heard that pregnant women can feel their babies moving, but you don’t feel anything besides a steadily growing weight. So maybe it’s not a creature.

That’s almost comforting. You’ve been imagining all kinds of horrible scenarios. Now you don’t need to worry that there’s some sort of demon beast about to claw its way out of you. Well, you weren’t worried about that before. You’re a little worried now.

All at once you feel a rush of fluid and some immense weight slipping into your passage. All your other thoughts vanish. There’s something inside you and you need to get it out, that’s all you know. You push, but you feel like the thing inside you is barely moving at all. You whimper in pain as you push harder, and you think you can feel it just barely inching its way down your passage.

You can feel your skin bulge outwards as the thing moves downwards one agonizing push at a time. The wizard said it would hurt, but this is so much worse than you feared. You feel tears streaming down your face as you try to force the thing out. You can feel it straining for release at your entrance. It’s barely half out and it’s already stretching you impossibly wide. By the Light, it feels like you’re going to split open. But you don’t, and you watch dumbfounded as an egg slides out of you.

An egg. You’re being held prisoner by a sadistic wizard, and he’s forcing you to lay eggs. It would be almost funny if you weren’t in so much pain right now. You let out a groan as another one enters your passage, begging you to squeeze it out. Again, you start to push, and again, you feel like the egg is barely moving at all. You scream, but it dissolves into helpless sobbing.

This is impossible. That first egg felt bigger than anything you could possibly squeeze out, and who knows how many more you have inside you? The wizard said he’d release you “eventually”. What does that even mean? How long does he expect to keep you here? Hours? Days? Weeks?

The familiar picks up your egg and flies out of the cell with it, apparently having no trouble carrying an object bigger than itself. You wonder where they’re going, what the wizard intends for these eggs. But then you need to push again and the effort drives everything else out of your mind.

The second doesn’t come much easier, but after another exhausting ordeal an egg drops out of you and onto the straw below. And, again, the familiar scoops it up and flies off with it to who knows where. You feel a third egg enter your passage. Then a fourth, a fifth. You’re losing count. All you can do is keep laying eggs and pray that there’s an end in sight.

They start coming faster and faster. After you birth each egg you barely have time to catch your breath before the next one starts working its way out. You barely noticed it through the haze of pain but now you realize that your belly hasn’t been shrinking. In fact, it’s growing. New eggs are forming inside you faster than you can push them out.

A horrible thought occurs to you.

“When I lay them all, that’s it?” you ask the familiar, between gasps. “He’ll let me go?”

The familiar nods excitedly.

“But-” You thought you were out of tears but now you can feel more welling up. You just keep growing more. You’ve been tricked. The wizard lied. He’s never going to let you go. You’ll just stay here in this cell forever, spewing out eggs until you die, wondering when the tide will finally stop. Your throat’s already hoarse, but you scream as another egg starts to slide down your passage.

***

You cry in relief when you notice that your belly is finally shrinking. By the end, the eggs just slide out of you with no resistance; you couldn’t stop them even if you wanted to. Your hole is stretched beyond recognition and every part of you hurts. You lie there in the straw, too spent to move. “Please, let it be over,” you whisper. You’ll never steal anything ever again. You’ll go to the Chapel of the Light every Sun’s Day and pray for forgiveness. You’ll kill the bastard who dared you to come here in the first place.

The wizard steps into view in the hallway as his familiar carries the last egg away. “Normally I give my guests a second or third dose of the ovigenesis potion,” he says, by way of greeting. “But, well, you were honest with me. If you like, you can have this instead.”

The potion in his hands now is one you recognize. It’s one of the milky-pink healing potions he sells in the marketplace. He offers it to you and you drink it down without an argument. It takes effect almost instantly. Your pain fades and you can feel your poor, abused muscles repairing themselves. In a few minutes you feel almost as good as new. Almost.

You were too exhausted to realize that you’re still naked. Naked in front of a strange man who has you locked in a cell. Reflexively, you cover yourself.

The wizard chuckles a little. “I can see through my familiar’s eyes, remember? I’ve seen all you have to offer and I have no prurient interest in your body. To me, you’re just a source of raw materials.”

You really don’t like the way he says that. Your hands stay where they are and you look over at your discarded clothing. Your discarded, wet clothing. Ugh.

“I can clean the…assorted fluids out of your clothes. You know, with magic.” He mutters something and waves his hands. The familiar neatly folds your clothes and lays them on a dry patch of straw. “There we go. Do you have any other pressing needs? A glass of water, perhaps?”

You answer no. Actually, you’d love a cold drink of water right now but besides the healing potion, you’re not sure you’d feel safe drinking anything he might offer you.

The wizard shrugs. “As I promised, you’re alive and unharmed. Mostly unharmed, at least. My healing potion will take care of that. I’m sure you can feel it working already. When you’ve recovered, you can leave.” He turns and walks off into the darkened hallways.

Strength returns to your body and your poor, abused hole even starts to close up. When you feel confident that you can stand without falling over, you dress yourself and follow the chittering familiar out through the wizard’s dungeons. You head out through the tower’s front doors and into the night. Outside, the breeze smells sweeter than the finest perfume. You stagger home and collapse into your bed, sleeping soundly until well into the afternoon.

***

You never go near the tower again. The village boy shows up at your house the next day and asks what happened. You’re tempted to punch him, but you don’t have the strength. Instead, you tell him to fuck off as viciously as you can manage. He doesn’t bother you again.

But it doesn’t quite end there. You try to avoid the wizard’s stall on market days but somehow he’s always right in your path, and he always greets you with a wide smile and a cheerful “Well, if it isn’t my favorite customer!” Sometimes, he tries to offer you a very familiar red potion. Your heart stops when you see it, but then he gives you a wink and slips the bottle back into some hidden pocket.

Lately he’s been selling “dragon’s egg” potions and carved amulets. Whenever you see them set out and glinting in the sunlight, you ache somewhere deep inside. You’re sure those eggs didn’t come out of any dragon, but you can never work up the nerve to ask.

You develop a profound sense of appreciation for chickens and egg-laying creatures of all kinds. You can never look at an omelette the same way again.

And it turns out that the potion never truly wore off. Once every few months, you’re awakened in the middle of the night by a sharp pain in your abdomen. The wizard’s familiar swoops in as you push a giant egg out of yourself, cackling to itself as it watches you strain. Laying the egg is always worse than you remember; every push feels useless, like the egg’s trying to cling to your insides out of sheer spite. Eventually it crowns and then slides out, leaving a void where your insides were stretched around it.

Every time, you wonder if this egg will really be the last one. Every time, you ask the familiar to tell the wizard you’re sorry, you never meant any harm, and can he fix what the potion did to you?

The familiar just grins at you and flies off into the night, holding your newborn egg in its arms.

(Hi! I’m deepoceanblue and when I sat down at my computer, this happened. Thanks for reading <3)

hush, blush, crush [ bill x reader ]

summary: billy draws (name)’s picture

a/n: this is written for @superwolfiestar ‘s “Beauty and the Beast Halloween prompt challenge”! this is day 11 and prompt scary story. YA I KNOW, I WAS SUPPOSED TO POST IT YESTERDAY BUT I HAD NO TIME OK. also! sortha this request from anon:  hi! can you please do a bill x reader where the reader is bill’s girlfriend/best friend who has a crush on him and she comes across his sketch book and the pictures he drew of beverly? and there’s just a lot of angst and jealousy and maybe ending with some fluff? :)

if you like my stuff and want to support me, don’t forget to treat me to a KO-FI! take part in the 7K followers gift HERE!

MASTERLIST.

The forest oozes with dazing scents. Summer. The night’s sky is littered with bright stars with golden threads around them, and the moon hangs just above the tree tops, almost as if it’s watching over your notorious group of friends. A series of tents stand in a strange circle around a log fire that radiates warmth and nearly blinding light. The Losers Club sits on found logs, huddled together with marshmallows melting on the tips of their held sticks, with blankets over their shoulders. Your hair drips with chilly water sending a shudder down your spine. The wind rustles wet clothes hung on wires and branches.

“-And…and…it’s…” Richie is the one speaking in a hushed, raspy voice. Next to him Eddie looks anxious, grasping his inhaler fiercely and waiting for the story to end. All eight of you took turns in telling scary stories by the camp fire. Naturally, Richie’s is the longest and the most interesting one - the kid is quite a good storyteller, and if he was only half as annoying as he is now, you’d probably have a crush on him instead. A curious whisper rounds the crowd – who is it?, you all wonder – leaning in closer to the fire to hear Richie better, “It’s…it’s….EDDIE’S MOM!”

“Dude! What the hell is wrong with you?” Eddie bellows, inhaling deeply. You refrain from rolling your eyes as the rest of the group replies in weak snorts and an occasional snicker. Figures it was something to do with Eddie’s mom, why else would Richie Trashmouth Tozier be interested in flapping his mouth if it wasn’t to somehow insult or ridicule? You shake your head, and Beverly sends you a cheeky smile, nudging your shoulder. You glance at her. Wordless, she bites her lip and motions to the boy sitting next to you. You frown at her, but refrain from uttering a single word.

Speaking of crushes, yours is just a few inches away, leaning close to the fire and watching carefully when for his marshmallow is done cooking. William “Bill” Denbrough sits in a respectable distance – he had, by accident, sat too close and hurriedly apologized and moved to give you some personal space. Not that you could complain, he had been beside you (thanks to the strategic placing of Ben and Beverly) all day. You couldn’t ask for more than that, even if you did feel a tad of disappointment when he had scooted closer to Mike.

Little by little the gang trickles into their tents. Beverly stays for a while, mostly waiting up for you to be done eating, but you simply shoo her away. The camp fire grows smaller; the silhouettes of you and Bill shine clear to whoever peeks out their tents. Beverly gives a knowing smile before wishing the both of you goodnight. Finally, for the first time in a long while, you and Bill are left alone.

The crackling of the fire lulls your heavy eyes and you feel the first notes of sleep calls you. But you stay alert. Your heart hammers in an unruly pace once you glance at him; his childish face appears happier in the dark, the bags under his eyes aren’t that deep and a spark of genuine joy reflects in the depths of his irises.  You blush, or perhaps it’s simply the hot flame that tickles your cheeks. You look down at your knees: a couple of bruises dot the surface of your skin, no doubt you had rammed into something by accident, though you can’t quite remember. A corner of a dark blue book catches your eye. With a curious brow raised you ask, “Hey, what’s that?”

“O-Oh…” Bill knows exactly what you’re talking about, and a bit unruly he swoops the sketchpad from the dry ground. He holds it, unsure of what to do next, “I-I-I-It’s my sketchb-b-book. Y-Y-Y-You c-can look, i-if you w-want t-t-to, t-that is.” He sounds nervous, more nervous than usual and his stutter is worse. With a soft smile you nod, hoping to ease him. He blinks rapidly as he places it on your lap. A chill creeps up your spine and you shiver. Bill licks his lower lip, “A-A-A-A-A” it takes almost thirty A’s for him to finally say “-are you c-co-cold, (N-Name)?” The wool blanket covering your shoulders has grown damp over the course of the day, but you simply shrug, not wanting to bother him. So he takes action on his own.

He avoids your gaze, opting to stare into the fire as if trying to engrave its mesmerizing dance into his mind. He takes his blanket and throws it over your shoulders, scooting close to you so you’d both share it equally. The proximity is a bit alarming; you fear your heart may pop out, but most of all you fear that he can hear the drumming from this close up. You gulp. Daze seeps into you, into your very bones and warms from within. It’s nice. After a moment you get used to this feeling, the feeling that the whole universe is at your fingertips and planets collide at the simple touch. Bill waits patiently for you to open the first page, and with a new wave of energy, you pry it open and—

Your heart shatters into a million brilliant pieces, like glass it spews all over the sky and becomes stars. Beverly. Beverly’s face drawn in a pretty red color; she looks just as beautiful as she does in real life. Of course he would draw her, why wouldn’t he? They kissed in third grade, you can’t fake such passion! A spike of jealousy pools in your stomach and the idea of simply throwing his sketchbook straight into the fire is tempting. But you refrain. You dive deep into sadness – there is no hope for you, is there? – just like you dived deep into the quarry this morning. Your throat ties in knots and shakily you breathe out, “Beautiful…” You murmur, a somber note in your voice but whether Bill can tell you have no clue.

He looks at you, examines the curl of your lashes, the waves your wet hair makes, the way orange and yellow colors play on your face and says, “Not as beautiful as you, (Name).” It’s a whisper, one you almost fail to catch but you do. You gulp hard, a spark of hope lighting up like a small flame that gradually grows larger as you tilt your head to look at him; your eyes meet in the dark, you note sparks of embers dance in his gaze as he catches each and every detail of your face. Grasshoppers play their silent tune somewhere behind you. Magnetic. The touch is magnetic, his touch on your wrist as it slowly glides into your palm and your fingers intertwine. “W-W-W-Would you l-like me t-to draw you, too?”

“N-Now?” You ask flustered. He gives a curt nod. You almost want to say ‘No’ because you don’t want to part, but the thought of having him sketch you grows more appealing by the moment. So you agree. He grins sheepishly and excuses himself to get some pencils from his tent. Your side grows cold much too soon as you wait for him to return. Is this real? You wonder. And will this exist even after the night fades into dawn and all of your friends awake? These questions are pressing and difficult, much too difficult for someone as young as you.

Bill emerges from the tent with a goofy smile and tip-toes back to you, sitting just as close as he did before leaving, taking his sketchpad and opening a blank page he grabs a red pencil and looks at you, “Oh, uhm, what should I do?”

“S-S-Smile.” The reaction is automatic to his request – the biggest, dorkiest grin blooms on your lips in a show of pure happiness. Bill stares for a long while, a small smile of his own pulling on the corner of his lip.

“Uhm, Bill?”

“Y-Yeah, (N-Name)?”

“You’re not drawing.”

Oh!”

He hurriedly gets to work. His hand glides through the paper, shapes slowly start forming; he glances up at you every two to three seconds to make sure each detail is created with impeccable precision. The night goes in silence, but neither of you mind. The real world fades into the back of your mind and for the time being only you and Bill exist in the warm glow of the campfire. But the sweet dream ends much too soon, and when he finally looks up one last time, you inhale sharply and the grin that had dimmed over the course of an hour comes back in full swing. Bill scribbles something on the top of the picture; thinking he’s done drawing you lean in and rest your head on his shoulder to get a better look.

There lies your portrait, a bit cartoonish, but it’s still you and surprising accurate, too. Like Beverly’s, but it would be obvious to anyone that he had put much more work into yours. On the top left corner there are two words scribbled, which is your name.

“I-I-I-I wi-will k-keep it, if-if you d-d-d-doo-don’t mind, (Name).” Bill says, “I-I can d-d-d-d-raw you another o-one n-next t-t-t-t-t-t-tim-me.”

“Next time?”

Bill nods, “M-M-Maybe th-then there c-c-c-could b-be just t-the tw-two of us.”

The best way to describe this feeling is to name it as a firework, powerful and ultraviolet, “O…okay. Just the two of us, Billy.”

“J-Just the two o-of us, (N-Nickn-name).”



end.


 forever tags: @tozierswheelers @princesspeach212 @ohblue @phillipas00 @ichigothewisewolf@alittlebitofmagic @vanillaladyuniverse @onehellofdevilotaku @itsallinyourimagination  @whatshernamemaria @magical-spit @viixenbriiar @averagewemo

Growing Pains II

Thank you so much for all your positive feed back guys! here is the very much anticipated Part 2 of my mini series Growing Pains

special shout outs go to @hcrrystvles for editing! also @mizpahes and @instaharry for moral support and inspo ideas 

masterlist   (i.)

dad!harry teacher!harry uni!harry

warnings: super fucking cute fluff, my heart hurts omg

word count: 3,013


The school yard transformed just as the sun went down. It was still full of children as it was during the day, but there was a different whimsical feeling in the air. Maybe it was because all the students were at a school event in which they weren’t faced with the stresses of school itself. Regardless of what it was about it, the celebration had kicked off. All the students from kindergarten to year 6 were invited along with their friends and family to come down, have a burger, have some ice pops, and have a bit of a dance on the blacktop while the DJ blasted music across the premises. Some of the teachers were asked to help with grilling for a portion of the night and of course, Harry agreed. It was meant to be a fundraiser for the school, but also a way to get the kids excited to be back in school for the year.

Naturally, anything that had to do with getting kids excited to learn, Harry was all about. He lived for the moments when kids would look at him in shock when he told them one of his fact of the day, for when they read something on their worksheets that inspired them and the times they’d be reading a book and would come back the next day to tell him all about how cool it was. Being a teacher was Harry’s calling, much like being a father was.

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K A I R O S | 05 |

/ˈkīräs/

(n.) the perfect, delicate, crucial moment; the fleeting rightness of time and place that creates the opportune atmosphere for action, words, or movement

An arranged marriage AU.

Paring: OT7.
Genre: fluff, angst, a lot of suggestive parts and eventual smut.
Waring: Mild sexual content
Word count: 6.1k
Author’s note: Part 5 is the final chapter, I am discontinuing the series. An ending post with a summarized ending will be posted along with a short explanation as to why I’m discontinuing. Overall, thank you for reading guys!

Parts: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 (M) |

“But mom, I’m not going to live with a bunch of strangers-!”

“I had the maids pack your things last night, your bags are outside.”

//

Cliche is underrated.

Especially when you just got kicked out of your own house by your ever so loving parents to stay with seven boys you’ve only heard notorious things about.

Oh, and you’re supposed to pick one to marry by the end of next month

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Super Puppy Love: A Super Sons fic

Synopsis: Damian and Jon had gotten the hang of working together as the Super Sons. Just as Damian thought that he could make this team-up work, he runs into an unexpected snag: Jon has a crush on him.

Update: I made a sort of epilogue/continuation of this as a response to a story prompt. Check it out here!  Super Puppy Love: Jon actually explains why there’s a naked Damian in his bed.



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slow hands

Preview:  You just kind of stare at him for a moment, and you don’t know who makes the first move but suddenly you’re pressed up against your door and he’s kissing you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You find that you’re not surprised, because it is natural. You’re a little bitter that it took so long, yeah, but you know that right here, with him kissing the breath straight from your lungs, is where you belong; where you’ve always belonged.

Word Count: 5497

Warnings: SMUT, pure and simple. SMUT SMUT SMUT. Light bondage if you squint. Ye be warned.

Notes: This is basically an excuse for me to write smut tbh. I’ve been in such a slump lately with school and everything else, so i was happy to accept any excuse to write. This fic is probably the filthiest smut I’ve ever written. It was inspired, in part, by Niall Horan’s “Slow Hands”, which has been playing in my head nonstop since I heard it. Tagging @jaaystodd and @dicckgrayson, because they had to endure my screaming about this.  I hope you guys enjoy!

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Leather and Lace

Originally posted by xwirsindtraumerx

Frank Castle x Reader

Warnings: smut, praise kink

A/N: So yep. This is happening again. This is super long (for me) and basically all smut.


Your leather knee-high boots made tons of sound as you stomped down the hall towards your apartment. You threw your door open then slammed it shut behind you as you stormed inside. You hurled your bag down as you made your way to the kitchen. You flung the freezer door open, ripping the ice cream container out and the lid off as you dug through your silverware drawer for a spoon.

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BTS Scenario | them confessing to you | maknae line

here’s the maknae line. find the link to the hyung line here.


Jimin

You blink away the sleep that hung heavy on your eyelids and blindly groped around for your phone, the ringtone a sudden contrast to the quiet of the night. Having found it, you sleepily answer the call and bring your phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Jimin. “No reason to keep me awake.”

He sighed, and you hear a little rustling over the phone, like he was turning over in bed. “You’re right. Go back to sleep, _____.”

“No! Jimin, I was just kidding.”

Silence. You sit up, realising there was more to it than what seemed. “What’s wrong?”

“You don’t need to be alarmed, I’m not hurt or– Well, I hope you won’t be alarmed after I’ve said what I need to say.”

You relax against the headboards. “Okay. I promise not be alarmed.”

He breathed out slowly, as if mustering up courage. “You know that feeling you get when you wake up on a weekend morning sometimes? When you don’t know what’s going to happen that day but you just feel great and excited?”

Jimin’s voice was soft in your ears, his words soft enough to be a bedtime story. “Yeah.”

“And you know that feeling you get when you’re walking in a park and you see two kids holding hands and just enjoying each other’s company? Like you don’t know whether they’ll end up together or stay best friends but you just hope they do?”

You wonder if you’re dreaming, if his musical voice was only a voice that murmured in your head in that state between being asleep and awake. “Yeah.”

“And you know that feeling when you go somewhere far away and see someplace nice and you think ’maybe just one day I might move here’? ”

His dreamy words made thoughts of far away cottages and clear blue skies float through your head. Your eyelids drooped just a little bit, your heart singing in the very same vein of the emotion Jimin described.

“Well, that’s the way I feel about you.”

And suddenly you were wide awake.

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin

Taehyung

You shoved your hands into your pockets and huddled closer to yourself, trying to fight the slight chill in the air.

It was nice autumn evening, the sound of children screaming as they took full advantage of the various swings and slides filled the air in the little park. You shook your head and wrapped your fingers around your phone, still warm from the last time you checked the time.

Tae had asked you to meet him here. But where was he?

You stretched your spine, sighing in relief when you feel a few joints crack. At least the weather was nice.

“Excuse me.” A singsong voice floated up from the general height of your knee. You look down in surprise to find a little boy, barely in the fourth grade, tugging at your jacket in an attempt to gain your attention.

You look around for a parent, but on not spotting one, you crouch so the boy can talk to you comfortably. “Hey. How can I help you?”

The little boy turned red, slowing bringing his hands out from behind his back. He held a card nearly as big as him in his hands and precariously clutched a single long-stemmed flower you did not recognise. “He told me to give these to the person who looked as pretty as this flower.” He dropped them into your hands like hot coal. “You’re very pretty.”

Eyebrows raised, you settle the flower between your fingers and unfold the card. The card was very pretty in itself, with a dainty border of white lilies delicately winding itself along the sides of the pastel pink card, but the words scribbled on it caught your attention better.

I saw this in a movie once, and thought life should imitate art today. Everybody likes kids, right? Our very own little Cupid. Only if– you know…you like like me back as much as I like like you. And if you don’t, then blink twice, and I’ll walk away.

There was no name, no indication towards who had written such an asinine love letter, but you knew all the same.

You grinned and looked up. “Would you show me who ga-”

But there was no trace of the supposed Cupid to your love story. In place of an awkward fourth grader’s adoring eyes stood a pair of gorgeous legs that belonged to the very man you wanted to see at that moment.

Tae grinned down at you. “I had to pay the kid five bucks. You’re still pretty, though. And you didn’t blink. No turning back now.”

Originally posted by fairybcby

Jungkook

To say that it had been a tiring day was an understatement.

You dropped your keys on top of the shoe rack and wearily slipped off your shoes. Your roommate had long left for her shift, you would have been back home hours ago only if you hadn’t offered to help with ‘just a little bit’ of paperwork.

You let your bag drop to the floor and trudge to the living room, hoping for a spot of TV before turning in for the night.

But no. The room was in shambles. Cushions were strewn about on the floor, newspaper shredded and discarded in what seemed like the most violent (and one-sided) knife fight ever. And was that…was that dog food on the rug? Of course, the only culprits you could begin to imagine was the reason behind this mess was the cute dog and the even cuter boy on your living room floor, both equally dead to the world.

“Jeon Jungkook, you wake your ass up or I swear you’ll never touch another gaming console again!”

Jungkook sprung upright as if he was shocked awake (which, in a way, he was). “______!” He looked around him, as if he was just realising he’d slept through the end of the world. “I– ”He swore and looked down at the dog draped across his lap, quite peacefully unaware of the situation. “Ah, shit.”

“That’s right.”

He groaned and leaned back on his hands, screwing his eyes shut. “He was supposed to be a surprise!”

You sigh and pick up an abandoned pillow. “You surprised me alright.”

He winced and opened an eye. “Are you mad?” Cringing at his own question he let his head fall back again. “Of course you’re mad.”

You click your tongue and settle down beside him, still clutching the pillow. “No, I’m not mad, I just– ” You reach out with a few fingers, letting them run through the silky fur of the puppy. “I just don’t understand.”

Jungkook ducked his head, the red already spreading across the bridge of his nose. “Your roommate let me in. I thought you’d be back home earlier, but I guess I dropped off waiting for you. Then…” He sent an adoring frown in the direction of the seemingly innocent little thing, quite comfortable in his lap. “I guess he got to work.”

You crack a smile at how strikingly similar the boy and puppy in front of you seemed to you. You rub the dog’s silky ears between your fingers. “At least he’s cute.” You melt as the dog whines in its sleep when you rub its neck. “Very cute. But why bring him here?”

This time Jungkook blushes fiercely, sparing no inch of skin. “Because…” He swallowed. “I’m in puppy love with you?”

You freeze. “You destroyed my living room…for a pun?”

Jungkook groaned for the second time that evening and hid his face against your shoulder. “I’m never listening to Jin-hyung again.”

Originally posted by jeovkks


phew, i’m tired. requests are closed. you can find hyung line here.

Secret Love Song - Tom Holland x reader

Prompt: Based in Secret Love Song by Little Mix (ft. Jason Derulo). In which the reader and Tom are secretly dating and decide to finally announce their relationship. Y/F/S= your favourite show, Y/F/A= your favourite artist, Y/S/N=your ship name

Featuring: Ellen Degeneres

Word count: 1,905


We keep behind close doors

Everytime I see you I die a little more

Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls

It’ll never be enough

“Y/N, I’m going to be really clear here. You’re becoming an international recognised model and you have to focus on your career. I think you need to stop seeing Tom.” Her manager blurted out, making the poor girl choke on her drink. Of course, it had to be something THIS big to have Y/N’s manager take her on a lunch date.

“What? Why? No way! I’m not leaving him. I love him! I… I refuse to keep modeling if he’s not with me.” She fights back, sounding confused and desperate.

Why’d she have to stop seeing her boyfriend? They only had been dating for three and a half months, they loved each other. Both had agreed on keeping it as a secret for a while, so no one knew except for their closest friends, and of course, their managers. But why did they decide they had to break up? What would Tom say? Was it his idea? Little did Y/N know that, on the other side of the restaurant, Tom and his manager argued on wether or not Tom’s manager knew what was best for him.

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Escape - Chapter Nine

SPN FanFic

~Y/N and Dean are abducted after a night at the bar and thrown into a maze of horrors. Can Sam track down his brother and girlfriend in time? Can they even hold on that long?~

Dean, Reader; Sam

2,392 Words

Series Warnings: Angst. Show level violence. Graphic gore and blood. Extreme situations that may cause anxiety and fear. Character injury and trauma. (Extra Warnings in the tags)

~Feedback is the crack that keeps the Writing coming back~

ESCAPE Masterlist ~  My Masterlist  

Chapter Nine: Burn in Hell -

Sam was losing his mind.

As the hours ticked away, he forged ahead but got few breaks. It seemed like every step forward was followed by two in reverse, and his head was aching. He knew he had imbibed more coffee in the last twenty-four hours than was probably healthy, but he had to keep going.

One big break came when Sam was able to capture a license plate number off of the video surveillance and track a black, six-passenger van to a house outside of town. The van had been at the right place at the right time, and all signs pointed to it being the vehicle that stole away Y/N and Dean. It had seemed promising, like everything was falling into place, but after kicking in the door, gun at the ready, he’d been once again sent back to the starting line. The house was empty and falling apart; the van abandoned in the woods nearby. Diving into the registration later, he learned that the van was in fact still under the name of Clark Bishop; one of the very first people to go missing a few years ago. The house was his as well, and Sam had hopes that perhaps he was alive and involved somehow with the kidnappings, but the clues led him nowhere.  

The local sheriff was still being a total dick, and despite Sam threatening him with the full wrath of the Federal Government, he was once again turned away empty handed. Hell was a small town, with barely any crime; they had a handful of businesses on the main road, and the state of Michigan didn’t even recognize it as a real town. So a few tourists went missing every year, what could you do?

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Hades!Harry pt. 1

  A/N: “Could you write about Hades!Harry??xx” I’ve never written anything like this before but i was so excited to step out of my comfort zone. I got a bit carried away so there will be a Part 2. Enjoy!


    Y/n didn’t find herself in scary situations that often. Her days consisted of tending to the crops, making sure her younger siblings are fed three times a day, and treading the two hour journey to the nearest market to sell anything she possibly could for extra cash. Her routine had been this way since her parents were killed out at sea a year ago. That’s all she knows; no major details or even a chance to bid them farewell.  

   They left, one morning, with the intention to trade goods with villagers that resided a couple hundred miles east of the Atlantic. They promised her and her two younger brothers that they would return in a month’s time. Unfortunately, the day after they departed, Y/n received a knock at the door and an unsealed letter with no return address stating that her Mother and Father had died. 

  “Ship caught fire. There were no survivors, sorry for you loss” 

    Y/n had been only seventeen at the time, but her wisdom was well beyond her years. It was that very wisdom that allowed her to take charge of the household and become the new guardian for her brothers. She wouldn’t call the death of her Parents ‘scary’. Incredibly tragic? Yes. But she had been raised to take on challenges when they’re thrown at her.

   The girl always stood by that, even when she found herself being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night by two dark figures. She kicked, flailed and scratched every chance she got. There was no way they would take her without a fight. The brawny black figures had managed to pin her down to the bed and tie her hands behind her back with chains. She blew a stray strand of hair from her face as they picked her up and made their way towards the door. She began to wonder how she had not heard them break the door down. 

 'God I’m so stupid’ she thought to herself, though she knew very well that even if she had heard them break into the cottage, she would’ve ended up in the very same position.

   Just before they carried her passed the boys’ room, she was able to peek in and see that they were staring back at her in sheer terror. Her heart broke. She was helpless and she knew they felt the same. It was obvious that whoever these people were, didn’t take an interest in the children and that was the only bright side she could find in this predicament. They throw her in the back of a horse-pulled carriage, one of the men stayed in the back to make sure she didn’t escape somehow. The floor of the carriage was covered in dirt and hay, the walls of it were just high enough to hide her from anyone passing by.

   The man beside her, who she could now see was wearing all black armor, proceeded to tie a cloth of some sort across her mouth to prevent any screaming. He left her nose exposed, which gave her the idea that they wanted her alive for some reason. 

 Numerous hours later

 The sun began to rise and she regained consciousness. She didn’t remember falling asleep but she couldn’t blame herself, she’s human.  The carriage came to an abrupt halt, which caused her to hit the top of her head on the wooden barrier. “mmh!” She groaned in pain; the man that had sat with her the entire night, flashed her an unapologetic smile. A few seconds later she was being lifted once again and pulled out of the cart. 

  She took this opportunity to look around and try to figure out where the hell they had taken her. It was like nothing she’d ever seen.

 Before her, stood a castle, bathed in charcoal colored bricks and dressed with Gargoyles at the large, Redwood double-doors. Her feet were still bare and she couldn’t help but wince every time she stepped on a pebble. The armor clad men showed no remorse as they pushed and pulled her every which way. The doors opened slowly, almost as if the structure itself had been expecting her.

  Once inside, her feet were brought relief by the cold marble flooring in the corridor; her eyes darting across the room. She spied million dollar paintings, two grand stair cases, and several stone pillars that kept the manor standing. It was hard to miss the other knight-like men who were posted at just about every corner. Without a moment to think she was, yet again, being guided rather roughly to a location that remained unknown to her. She gave up fighting a long time ago, figuring that if she kept her sanity in tact, she may be able to think up a way to save herself or find someone who can.

  They dragged her up the set of stairs to the left, and through a massive hallway. The walls in this particular area were made, not of wood or stone, but of skulls. Hundreds, possibly thousands of skulls, bound together to form a wall. She wondered how they did it, and if those people had been killed for that dumb reason. Y/n couldn’t help but wonder if her head would be an addition to the foyer. After examining the enclosure, she decided to look straight ahead. 

There at the end of the hallway, was another set of cherry colored doors. one door was slightly ajar and it allowed her to peek inside, the same way she did as she passed the room of her brothers not so long ago. She saw what looked to be a bed, a big one; garmented in a duvet the color of blood.

A bedroom?

They dropped her, upon their arrival to the room. They finally removed the chains from her arms as well as the cloth from her mouth. She fell to the floor, her arms covered in bruises and welts. She turned to face the men and opened her mouth to demand answers but was cut off off by the sound of another. A deep, raspy voice; coming from somewhere in the spacious room. 

“So glad you could make it”

She turned back to face the front, eyes locking with a man. He was tall and fit. He was someone she had seen before, she just couldn’t put her finger on where. “do i- hmm” she started but had stop and clear her throat, it had been hours since she had some water. “do i know you?” she asked, sheepishly. Something about his presence intimidated her.

“Yes and no” he smirked. He sauntered over to where she was sitting on the ground, rubbing at her sore arms. He crouched down to her level “you’ve probably seen me in an old carving or something of the sort” he ran his index finger across her jaw. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

‘i’m Harry. Although, if we’re being cordial I should give you my real name” he sighed. “Hades, lord of the underworld”. He studied the blank expression she was giving him. 

“I mean I added that bit about the underworld. Has a nice ring to it” he stated She still said nothing. “I’m not fond of it either, that’s why I make people call me Harry” he smiled before standing. She stared up at him, swallowing what moisture she had left in her dry mouth. 

“oooh don’t look at me like that” he chuckled. biting his bottom lip.

She clears her throat again “Why am I here?” her voice is smaller than its ever been. Part of her hoped he didn’t hear, afraid of how he would react. “Well, doll” He breathed. “I’ve been lonely for quite some time now. I used to have a lovely wife but….let’s just say….I let my temper get the best of me one evening” he snickered. She heard the men behind her stifle their laughter as well. 

“Anyways, i want another but I have standards. I’m five thousand years old, i’m not getting any younger and I know what you’re going to say ‘Harry you don’t look a day over twenty-three!’” he shrilled in a high pitched nasally voice. 

“I wasn’t going to say any-”

“Shh! I haven’t finished my monologue” he interjects. She, boldly, rolled her eyes.

“Long story short, you’re a smart, headstrong, young woman. I started watching you after your parents died…sorry about that by the way it wasn’t my intention” he confessed. Her eyes widened but she was frozen in shock by what she  had just heard. She waited for him to explain what he meant by that.

“I had gotten in a fight with Poseidon and it got a little out of hand I really am sorry, darling” his voice was filled with atonement. He looked back to her, searching for any sign of forgiveness. Even though was was the god of all things bad, he still possessed somewhat of a heart. She nodded, sensing a little bit of guilt in his words.

“What i’m trying to say here is, You’re my new Wife!” he declared. 

Wrapped around your finger- Part 2

Originally posted by maryxglz

Part 1

Soo, here’s part 2. It turned out a little longer and smuttier than the first one, so I hope you like it. I couldn’t believe how many notes Part 1 got, since I had literally no faith in this story’s success but I guess I got lucky haha. Thanks for your support, guys ;). I had fun writing this, although it turned out a little different from what I intended it to be. Anyways, I would really appreciate it if you gave me your opinion. Enjoy! :-)

@lalahumes  @thefandomfairy567  @checkboss22



Cleo couldn’t put her finger on why she was so attracted to the raven-haired god. After all he had told her about Asgard and his magic tricks she knew that he could easily make her fall for him using magic and then break her heart just for fun. Or maybe, she thought, I naturally find dangerous people appealing. Whatever the case, she couldn’t bring herself to worry about it. Right now Loki was sitting on the table in front of her, fists under chin,lips curled mischievously and awaiting for her answer. He seemed so relaxed that her uneasiness doubled. She moved her gaze from his eyes to the untouched cup of espresso in front of him.

“It’s only fair that you know tell me your story as well.”He had told her after he had finished telling about his life in Asgard. He didn’t mention his attempts to take over the Earth- she already knew about that from the news.

The problem was, however, that her story was nowhere near as interesting as his. It was full of such mundane things, none of which more exciting than the other. She was neither a princess, nor a goddess and she didn’t for sure live in a magical world which she had saved just a couple of days ago by utterly destroying it. No, she was just an university student with a couple of friends and a dog.

“I have a dog.”she blurted out before she could stop herself.

He seemed quite taken aback by this statement.

“You do?”

“Uh…yeah. A male shih tzu. Ace is the biggest sweetheart to ever live. He’s always so friendly and loves to be hugged and petted. Whenever I’m working on a project or something he comes to me and falls asleep on my lap. He’s just that small. You should see him.”the words escaped her mouth in a quick succession. When it came to Ace Cleo could spend days talking about him.

Loki let out a chuckle and leaned back.

“Is that a date, Cleo?”the way he said her name made her heart miss a beat.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Whatever. I agree.”

She gaped.

“What else is there to know about Miss Cleo Andrews?”

“Well,”she began “I live alone with Ace in a one-room apartment in Brooklyn. My best friend lives next door and we often pay visits to each other. During the week I go to classes in the university and at Saturdays I help at the library.”

“What about Sundays?”

“I rest, I guess. Sleep late, meet up with friends.”

“Sunday is our date then. But don’t get me wrong, love, I have no intention of being just a friend to you.”

She sipped from her latte and tried to hide her blush behind the cup. Cleo was definitely not used to his compliments. She cleared her throat before speaking.

“Don’t you like your coffee?”he still hadn’t had a single sip of it, even though they’d been sitting there for some thirty minutes.”This cafe is one of the best in the neighborhood, I assure you.”

He removed his gaze from her and planted it on the espresso. She couldn’t read his expression.

“To be honest, I’m still not used to these Midgardian foods and drinks. Especially when it comes to coffee, I never seem to like its bitterness.”

“Why don’t you try something a little sweeter if that’s the problem? Here, taste my latte. It has a lot sugar and milk in it so the coffee itself is almost unnoticeable.”

He seemed to think about her proposal for a moment and then he took the cup and took a long sip of it, still maintaining eye contact with Cleo. His stare was so intense that Cleo gulped but didn’t try to look away. It was like she was under a spell and Loki was the only thing on her mind. Next moment, though, he put down the liquid and sighed. Everything was back to normal.

“I can still taste it. It’s a lot better, though.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

Cleo still had trouble catching her breath after this energy she had felt passing through her. But what was it? She thought that maybe he had made some kind of magic on her, although she didn’t feel any different at all. He could also not have done that on purpose, since his power was immense and sometimes he couldn’t control it that way.

When Cleo looked up from her lap, she realized that this entire time he had been staring at her chest,which was now rising and falling rather rapidly. For a moment she was glad that she had put on that particular tight striped shirt which made her breasts look their best. He didn’t even try to hide that his eyes followed the line of her collarbone down the hem of her shirt and then the almost invisible lines that her bra formed. She coughed quietly.

His eyes met her again and this time an uneven smirk was formed on his lips. She noted that this was the first time she had seen him smile.

“Don’t act all innocent, Cleo. i know you’re a lot brighter than you pretend to be.”

“I’m not acting innocent at all!” she tried to defend herself. “But you have to understand, what you’re doing is making me uneasy.”

He stood up and slipped their jackets from the hanger, quickly making his way to her.

“Here”he said “Let me help you put that on.”

Before she could protest that she could do that herself, he swiftly tucked both her arms in the sleeves of her coat. When he was done, he flipped her so that this time she was facing him and then zipped her up. He let his hands linger on her waist when he spoke up:

“You need to know, I’m sorry for making you feel uneasy. But you better get used to it.”he moved his fingers in a soothing manner on her ribs.”I plan on spending days and nights with you after which you’ll have problem walking. I’m just that powerful, Cleo, so it’s for the best if you realize that sooner than later.”

What he was suggesting was mind-blowing and suddenly her mind was flooded with images so vivid and erotic that she felt a tingle in the pit of her stomach.

It took her a moment to compose herself from what he had shown her using his powers. The visions vanished and she knew she had to get out of there as soon as possible.

“It’s 10 am on Sunday then. Wait for me and Ace here.”

Cleo slipped out from his grip and walked out before he had lead her into doing things she was not yet ready for. She knew she had fallen right into his trap.

anonymous asked:

do u ever think about ravens roost not getting destroyed, and julia and magnus keeping on living in their town? how long do u think it would take for magnus to get his memories back like that? what if he never met merle and taako and it wasnt until the day of story and song?

I don’t know what prompted this but THANKS ANYWAY

/////

“Magnus?”

He was sitting in the mud room, strapping on his boots. The good ones, not the ones he usually wore to town. Rich, thick leather that the salesdwarf had insisted was drakeskin but was probably closer to salamander. Julia had gotten them for his birthday.

“I’ll be back,” he said, not looking up from the buckles. “Soon. I promise.”

“Let me come with.”

He grimaced. Of course she knew where he was going. It had beamed straight into her head, too, hadn’t it? “Jules–”

“You don’t have to go alone.”

“I know, I know that,” he said, standing and grabbing his duster from the the coathook. Stiff and heavy, it was one of the first things he’d purchased when he got to Raven’s Roost. It frayed at the sleeves, the elbows had nearly worn through, and its rust color had long-since faded into a creamy tan. He hadn’t thought anything of the color before today. “But this is – it’s personal.”

“It’s personal for me, too,” she argued, folding her arms. “Or am I not involved?”

Magnus shrugged on his coat and turned to face her. She glared at him like she did whenever he was being particularly stubborn – or when she was about to do something particularly reckless.

He wanted to throw his arms around her, lift her up and kiss her the same way he had for years. But he’d been afraid to, since yesterday. He wasn’t sure what he looked like to her anymore. He wasn’t sure what he looked like to anyone.

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Request: heeeeyy, maybe you can do one on collins character, where’s she’s a civilian on the boat helping peter and George, and when collins gets on the boat she helps him and gets him settled and they’re both kinda into each other, but once they get back to the trains they know they have to separate but it’s all kinda flirty and fluffy and stuff xx

A/N: spoilers for Dunkirk ahead.

——————

For the past six hours you had been sailing towards Dunkirk on your fathers boat, planning on getting as many soldiers as you could home.

You had hopped on the boat last minute, leaving your father no choice but to take you with him. Your father and brother were annoyed at first, but now they were glad you had came with them. Between George being injured and the shell shocked soldier you had picked up having panic attacks, you had been a great help. You watched over the two of them, as well as helped Peter on deck.

You were helping him with the sails when you had spotted the spitfire going down, telling your dad that you hadn’t seen a parachute. Your dad steered the boat towards the plane, being careful not to get too close. Peter and you immediately saw that the pilot was struggling to get out, his window stuck.

Grabbing an oar, you used it to smash a hole in the window, allowing the pilot to swim out. He coughed out some water as he surfaced, glancing briefly at the boat as he swam towards it. You helped your brother pull him in, allowing him to collapse tiredly against the deck.

Once he had reclaimed his normal breathing, his eyes glanced around the boat. He took in everyone on the boat, before his gaze settled on you.

“Blimey, have I died an gone te heaven?” The pilot spoke, his eyes locked on your face. You were slightly surprised at his Scottish accent, but you quickly shook it off.

“No! Why would you think that?” You questioned, head tilting to the side in curiosity.

“Because I’m lookin’ at an angel.” He teased, sending you a flirty wink. Your cheeks instantly heated up, causing you to look away quickly. “What’s yer name lass?” He asked, pulling your attention towards him again.

“I’m Y/N.” You replied simply, forcing the flush from your face.

“Beautiful name, not tha I’d expect anythin’ else from a gorgeous girl like yourself.” Just like that he had you blushing again, a cocky smile lighting up his face. “I’m Collins.”

“That was quite some flying Collins.” Your brother spoke suddenly, a hint of annoyance in his voice. He glanced at you, shaking his head ever so slightly. You rolled your eyes in response, totally used to his over protectiveness.

“Yes, well, I’m just hopin’ me partners got enough in his tank te hold off the next attack.” He told your brother, before settling his gaze back on you.

You lowered your gaze to your feet, a small smile lighting up your face. A throat was suddenly cleared, attracting everyone’s attention.

“Y/N, can you come help me with the navigation?” Your father asked, sending you a pointed look. You nodded, following him into the cabin.

“Don’t get attached to him sweetheart, there’s another war coming. Who knows what will happen once it hits home.” Your father told you gently, sending you a sad smile.

“I know dad, I just- I just wish things could be different. I wish there were no wars, I wish our boys could just be home safe, I wish William-” You broke off at your brothers name, a few tears falling down your cheeks.

“I know dear, I miss him too.” Your father whispered, pulling you into his arms. He held you tightly for a few minutes, but made sure to keep his eyes on the sea in front of him.

“Am I interruptin’ somethin’?” A voice spoke suddenly, startling you and your father. You both moved apart, glancing at the door way to the cabin to see the handsome pilot.

“No, don’t worry about it.” You told him, smiling softly. “Can I get you a cup of tea?” You asked him, to which he immediately nodded.

“Tea would be great.” He spoke gratefully, following you as you went below deck. Once down there, he took in George’s form and sent you a confused look. “Is he alrigh’?”

“He got hurt earlier, banged his head when the other soldier accidentally pushed him down the stairs. He’ll be fine, we think he’s just got a concussion.” You told him, moving to the counter to prepare a cup of tea.

“Wha’ are you all even doin’ out here? Yer civilians.” He spoke, accepting the mug when you handed it to him. He took a few sips, eyes watching you intently.

“My dad overheard about the call to Dunkirk. He decided to go help rather then sit back and do nothing. I wasn’t meant to go with him and my brother, neither was George. But I can be quite stubborn when I want to be. I told them they’d have to throw me over board to go with out me.”

“It’s brave, wha’ yer all doin’.” He spoke, sitting down on the bench and gesturing for you to follow. You sat beside him, both of you turning your bodies to face one another.

“There are thousands of men waiting to get home over there, we’ve got no right to sit back and do nothing. They’ve been protecting us, now it’s our turn.” You told him, a faraway look in your eyes.

“You’ve lost someone, haven’ you?” He asked quietly, recognizing the pain in your eyes. You only nodded, but he pressed further. “Who was it?”

“My oldest brother. He was a pilot like you. He was shot down 3 months ago.” You whispered, looking away from him.

“I’m sorry.” He told you sincerely, placing his hand over yours.

“It’s alright, we’ve accepted it.” When he moved his hand, it was only so that he could wrap it around your shoulders. He pulled you close to his body, and in response you rested your head against his shoulder.

“Tell me about yourself.” He suddenly requested, looking for a distractor for the both of you.

“What do you want to know?” You asked curiously, glancing at him from the side of your eye.

“Everything.”

For the next 20 minutes the two of you chatted about nothing and everything. You shared your hopes and dreams for the future, and occasionally some stories from your childhoods. You were only interrupted by a panicked shout from on deck.

“Luftwaffe!” Your brother shouted, making the two of you jump up. You both ran upstairs, immediately hearing the sounds of a plane firing.

“He’s going for the minesweeper.” Your father said solemnly, knowing there was nothing any of you could do to stop it.

“We can help. We’ve got to stay and pick up as many of them as we can.” You spoke up, causing Collins to smile at you. Your father nodded, repositioning the boats course.

The minesweeper was hit moments later, sending its crew into the water. Your boat got closer, and you began helping men out of the water. Peter was alongside of you, helping you bring the heavy bodies aboard.

“Oil, yer gettin’ into oil!” Collins shouted to your father, making your eyes widen in shock. Your dad responded immediately, steering the boat away from the dark waters.

More of the soldiers boarded, each growing darker with oil. You noticed Collins was no longer paying attention to the men in the water, his eyes were locked on the skies.

“Come on Farrier. Come on Farrier.” He mumbled over and over, his eyes locked on a spitfire that was trailing the German plane.

Suddenly the German plane was going down, making some of the soldiers cheer. But you and Collins both realized at once what was about to happen. The smoking plane was heading right towards the oil in the water.

“Go go go!” Collins shouted, hand grabbing a soldier in the water as your father steered the boat away. You ran forward to help him, quickly pulling the soldier into the boat.

He sputtered up some water, turning to the two of you gratefully.

“Take me home.”

Hours later you began to see sights of home again. The men all seemed to perk up at the cliffs, causing you to smile slightly. Collins took your hand in his, stroking the skin gently with his thumb.

His hand remained in yours as the boat was docked, only letting go to help some of the men get off. Once all of the soldiers cleared off, Collins took your hand again.

“Come with me?” He asked softly, gesturing to the train. You nodded, allowing him to pull you towards the masses of soldiers.

“I’ve got te get on the train. We’ve got te get ready for the real war. They’ll be comin’ here next.” He told you, glancing over his shoulder at the English Channel.

“I know. You’ll be careful, won’t you Collins?” You asked him, voice chocked by your emotions.

“O’ course I will.” He told you, his cocky smile on his face once more. You suddenly had an idea, reaching behind your neck and unclasping your necklace. It was a simple locket, but you had worn it every day since your brother had died.

“Come find me once you’ve won the war.” You whispered, placing the necklace in his hands and kissing his cheek. You left after that, not sparing a glance back as you let your tears fall.

Collins stared after your retreating form, holding the necklace tightly in his hands. He made a promise to himself as he boarded the train that day, and he continued to repeat it to himself throughout the rest of the war.

He was going to return this necklace to you one day, and then… then he was going to marry you.

where the sun and stars meet

masterlist

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader (oh my word, she’s done it, she’s written a non-Lin fic, holy moly, we never thought this day would come)

Summary: He knew you well enough to know when you were forgetting to breathe.

Note: i fell straight into rafa hell and apparently this is how i decided to handle it lmao. @fragmentofmymind and @alexanderhamllton had to deal with my yelling about this so go give them extra love THEY DESERVE ALL OF IT I LOVE THEM A LOT. 

okay omg i love you guys and i hope you enjoy the garbage, feel free to come yell at me about it <3

Word Count: approx. 4500? (guys it’s a ONE-SHOT ARE YOU PROUD)


Being a twenty-eight year old woman living in Los Angeles could be tough.

In six years of residence in the city of stars, you had realized that sometimes the lights weren’t so much sparkling as they were blinding. Blinding of the goals you’d set out to achieve, the paths to get there, the hope and promise of a state drowning in sunshine and smog. Although you had never expected it to be, the journey wasn’t easy.

Sure, you’d had plenty of dancing gigs during your time there so far, but your heart was in choreography and you were determined to keep working until you made that goal happen. You knew that you were talented, that when you were in your flow you could tell stories and string together phrases and characters with even the most subtle pieces of movement. Every once in awhile, though, you lost your flow.

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