i know i know too much john in one day xd

The Bully

Modern High School AU

Thomas Jefferson x Reader 

Author(s): Lil Laddie

Request: Request: Hmm could you do a Thomas Jefferson x Reader in like a modern AU(or Hamiltime) where Thomas is the school bully all because he’s a senior in highschool and thinks he’s all that then the reader(a new student)walks by and he’s just like :“Hello there XD” and flirts with her but Peggy rescues the reader from the dreaded Thomas Rex? XD - Anon

Words: 2133

Warnings: Swearing, bullying, kissing

A/N: I hope this is what you were wanting when you requested it, anon. Thanks again for requesting! 

“(Y/N) (L/N), I presume?” The principal, George Washington, peered down at you from over his desk.

“Yes, sir.” You gulped, his intense stare making you completely uncomfortable.

“Well then, welcome.” His once serious expression changed into a warm one. “We’re very glad to have you here. I will be having one of our top students show you around today. I hope that you enjoy your time here. Do not hesitate to come to me with any problems you have.” He smiled at you, calming your nerves at once.

“Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it.” You smiled back at him, feeling much more relaxed than you had when you first walked in the building. A short knock at the door, caught both yours and Washington’s attention.

“That must be her.” He got up from his desk to open the door to his office. There stood a young girl in a yellow dress. “(Y/N), this is Peggy Schuyler. She’ll be showing you around the school today. Peggy, this is (Y/N) (L/N).”

“Come on, (Y/N)! You’re going to love it here!” Peggy exclaimed, grabbing your hand and pulling you out the door.

“Please, don’t get them into any trouble, Peggy.” Washington sighed, watching the two of you leave.

“I’ll try, G-wash!” Peggy smirked at him before pulling you full force, to the foyer of the school. “Welcome to the best school you will ever attend!”

“Are you sure about that?” You asked, glancing nervously at the enormous amount of people you have never talked to before.

“You’ll love it, trust me. The people here are great…at least most of them.” Peggy reassured you, pulling you through the crowd.

“Where are we going?” You asked, feeling completely lost.

“I’m going to introduce you to my sisters. You can’t survive high school without a couple of good friends, can you?” Peggy smiled.

“I guess not.” You smiled back. First day at a new school and you had already found a group that wanted to be friends with you. This was like a dream come true.

You approached two very pretty girls. One wearing a blue dress and the other was wearing an orange dress. They were talking to a group of four energetic boys that were basically bouncing off the walls. Peggy looked back at you with a thumbs up before finally reaching them.

“Everyone, I would like you to meet (Y/N)!” Peggy announced proudly, presenting you like a prize on a gameshow. “(Y/N), these are my sisters Angelica and Eliza. And these are our friends Alexander, John, Hercules, and Lafayette.” They each waved at you when Peggy introduced them.

“Hi, nice to meet you guys.” You said, looking down at your hands.

“And it’s wonderful to meet you too!” Eliza said warmly.

“This is their first day here and Gwash wants me to show them around. I like them already, so I vote let’s keep them!” Peggy wrapped her arms around you tightly. “I mean, look at them. They’re like an adorable lost puppy!”

“I second the vote!” John yelled, followed by many more shouts of agreement. A bell rang through the school, and slowly all the students began to leave for their classes.

“I got to get (Y/N) to class, but we’ll see you guys at lunch!” Peggy said, the two of you waving to the group as you left.

The classes leading up to lunch, followed the exact same routine. The teacher making you stand in front of the class and introduce yourself as the new student. It was exhausting and completely annoying.

Luckily there was one upside, you were able to find something that caught your eye. Or more like someone. He had big puffy hair and a magenta sweatshirt on. He had been in all of your classes. Every time you had been sent up to the front to introduce yourself, his eyes never strayed from you. Even when his friends would try to make a comment to him, he would just brush them off.

As the bell signaling lunch rang, you silently hoped that Peggy would introduce you to him. Sadly, instead of doing that, Peggy walked quickly past him with a look of disgust. There was obviously something you didn’t know about him.

“Hey Peggy. Who was that guy in the magenta shirt that’s been in all of our classes?” You asked.

“His name’s Thomas Jefferson, and he is the worst person you will ever meet! He’s a bully to everyone. Just because he’s a senior and is a high honor roll student, he thinks he can just push everyone around. Trust me (Y/N), you don’t want to get involved with Thomas Rex.” She shuddered at the thought.

“Thomas Rex?” You asked, giggling slightly at the strange nickname.

“Yeah, Alexander came up with it because just like a T-Rex, he destroys everything in his path.” Peggy said, her cold tone making your giggling cease.

“Good to know.” You said, feeling much sadder than you should have been. You didn’t even know the guy. Why were you sad about this?

“I just remembered, I need to go talk to my English teacher. The lunchroom is just at the end of this hall. Will you be fine walking there by yourself?” Peggy asked, looking behind her anxiously where the classroom most likely was.

“I’ll be fine, Pegs.” You smiled at her, despite the fact that you were freaking out inside.

“Okay, sweet! Everyone will probably be sitting at the table in the back right corner. You won’t be able to miss it!” Peggy quickly turned around and almost sprinted to her english classroom.

You took a deep breathe in before continuing your walk to the lunchroom. You didn’t know why, but it completely terrified you having to make this walk alone. You felt so vulnerable and small in the almost empty hallways.

“What did you say? You do know I could beat you to a pulp right?” A voice growled not too far from you.

You gulped, slowly approaching the voice. You could hear grunts of pain and the low chuckles of two people. When you turned the corner, you saw Thomas Jefferson and someone else standing over a freshman’s shaking body. Looking at the small boy  filled you with adrenaline.

“Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?” You called, quickly approaching the group of boys.

“Well, hello there.” Thomas looked at you and smirked, quickly forgetting the crying boy behind him.

“That didn’t answer my question.” You said, walking past Thomas and approaching the small boy.

“It’s nothing that concerns your pretty mind.” Thomas watched you crouch down next to the boy.

“Are you okay?” You asked the boy softly. “Why’d you do this?” You glared at Thomas, helping the boy slowly rise to his feet.

“I told you, it doesn’t concern you. Look beautiful, I know you’re new here, so I’ll excuse this little mix up if you let me finish what I started.” Thomas said.

“Can you walk to the nurse’s office by yourself?” You asked the boy, who quickly nodded. As he left, you turned back to face Thomas. “You are terrible! What you think you’re all that because you’re a senior? Guess what buddy? Nobody even cares! That gives you no excuse to be a jerk to people for no reason!” You fumed, Thomas’ face began to drop from it’s usual smirk.

“I-” He tried to explain himself, only to be quickly cut off by you.

“I don’t want to hear your excuse! The worst part of this all is that I was really excited to talk to you. You’re stupidly cute, but you turn out to be a complete asshole!” You almost yelled, not even realizing what you had said until you saw Thomas have an amused smile on his face.

“Stupidly cute, eh?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Forget I said that. Because in the end, you being a bully and thinking you’re better than everyone else makes you completely unattractive.” You said, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks.

“You’re blushing, sweetheart.” He smirked as you silently cursed your bright face. “If I wasn’t a bully, would you go out with me?” His smirk faded completely.

“Yes, I would.” You said honestly, his face lighting up with a small smile. Without knowing it the two of you had gotten closer and closer, now only inches away from each other’s faces.

“(Y/N)!” Peggy sprinted down the hallway, a look of horror on her face. “Don’t touch her!” She screamed.

“Um, this may be my cue to go.” Thomas said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “But I’ll keep in mind what you said about bullying.” Thomas turned and walked away quickly towards the friend that had been with him earlier.

“Yeah! You better run, Thomas Rex!” Peggy snarled, grabbing your hand firmly in hers. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“No, everything was fine. We had a slightly pleasant conversation. I think I may have convinced him to stop bullying.” You said calmly, while Peggy on the other hand looked ready to slap someone.

“Don’t get your hopes up. Thomas, wouldn’t change for anyone. I know he’s dreamy, but he’s a lying snake.” Peggy growled, leading you to the lunch room.

Her words swirled in your brain. He wouldn’t change for anyone. He wasn’t going to change for you.


The following week passed quickly. You still saw Thomas daily, but your newly acquired friends wouldn’t let him come anywhere near you. Peggy had told them of your encounter with him and they all had become extremely protective of you. And the thing to increase their protectiveness was, that the day after you talked to him he had become kind.

No kids had been bullied since and he was kind to almost everyone. That didn’t mean he had gotten rid of his massive ego, but still he seemed a changed man and you were to thank. Just the thought of it gave Alexander a stress ulcer.

It was lunch break on Friday, when you finally got a moment away from your group of friends. You loved them, but their protectiveness had almost made you go insane. You had to stop yourself from punching Hercules in the face a couple times. If Thomas even glanced at you, Hercules would try to go and beat him up. It was getting completely out of hand.

“Hello again, lovely.” A deep voice said from behind you. You spun around to be inches away from Thomas’s face.

“H-Hi.” You stuttered, the close proximity making you extremely nervous.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I have stopped being a bully…Not completely, but baby steps, ya know?” Thomas smiled at you.

“Trust me, I noticed.” You smiled back, only making his brighter.

“Am I allowed to date you now? I mean, if I’m still stupidly cute and all.” He smirked slightly as your face flushed.

“I guess, that could be okay. As long as you don’t go back to being a jerk.” You said, his face getting closer to yours as you spoke.

“Am I allowed to kiss you?” You could feel his warm breath on your cheeks.

“I don’t think I’d be able to say no.” You said softly, bringing your lips softly to his.

You don’t know why, but this kiss was unlike any you had ever had. His lips molded perfectly to yours. He put his hands on your waist, pulling your bodies closer together. You placed your hands on his chest, clutching his signature maroon sweatshirt. Getting lost in the moment, you didn’t hear the approaching footsteps and whispers.

“(Y/N)?” Angelica yelled, terror laced in her voice.

You pulled away to see your whole group of friends standing there in shock and horror. Thomas still held you closely to his chest, neither of you making a move to step away from your close embrace.

“I like him. Can I keep him?” You asked quietly, imitating the way Peggy had introduced you earlier in the week.

“But-” Alexander tried, glaring at Thomas.

“Please? He’s been good. He’s stopped bullying people and he’s not going to do it again.” You pleaded, showing them your best puppy dog eyes.

“(Y/N), it’s only been a week.” Lafayette protested.

“But Laffy Taffy…” You pouted, seeing his hard expression crack.

“Fine, you can keep him. But if he messes up at all, he has to deal with us.” Eliza said, her voice venomous.

“Yes ma’am!” You smiled, watching them turn around and walk back to the lunchroom.

“So, you get to keep me?” Thomas asked, chuckling at the phrase.

“Oh, shut up.” You groaned, before pulling him in for another memorable kiss like before.

Poly! Hamilsquad x Reader – What a Surprise!

Request -  “ Poly!Hamilsquad x reader where the boys have been with the Reader for awhile and they see her as a sweet,kind,loving and shy girl and one day while the reader is out at the grocery store the boys are sitting around the living room talking and notice they don’t really know much about her past and jokingly they look her up and they find out she used to be a pretty popular porn star before she meet them and maybe they watch her videos and see that she’s wasn’t always so shy” from an old lil’ Nonny :3

Summary - Knowing that she’s a kind. loving and friendly girl, the boys believe that she has always been like this. Though, when John said they don’t know much about her, they decided to try looking for more information. Soon they found out she used to be a porn star, but they couldn’t believe it. And so they ask her themselves.

Timeline - Present Day :3

Word Count - 1,953 :3

Trigger Warnings - None, I guess. XD just mentions of porn and panties XD

NOTE - Okay, the ending is weird, I know. But please, bare with me, I have so many requests and school is not helping me XDD

Keep reading

A Fear of Losing Love (SherlockxFem!Reader)

Title: A Fear of Losing Love

Author: Nyla (@i-had-a-halo-once)

Pairings: SherlockxFem!Reader, mentions of SherlockxMolly and SherlockxIrene

Request: Hey love, my name is Nyla as well, but anyways i was wondering if you could do a scene where sherlock tells her he loves her based off the song “Suicide by James Arthur” much love xx — anonymous

Warnings: Angst, mentions of cheating, a song mentioning suicide, and a little cursing

A/N: So I really got into this request, and it became pretty long XD So, I hope you enjoy, and I’m sorry for the delay in posting it! Enjoy! -Nyla

Words: 5,295


Sherlock Holmes hated waiting. It was boring, and took up time he could use for doing something else that was useful. He hated the dullness of sitting in his chair, fingertips steepled and hovering close to his mouth, his expression at first glance calm. A second glance would reveal his eyes to be hard — cold and unforgiving for the person he was waiting on.

John had left hours ago after extracting a promise from a tight-lipped Sherlock that the detective would let him know when she finally came home, if she did at all that night.

She. Y/N.

A young woman whose name always followed Sherlock’s when his was uttered in conversation. Y/N. A young woman who was equal in nearly every way to the genius detective now waiting on her, anger radiating off of him that would be instantly discernible to anyone who really knew him.

The clock ticked one a.m. Sherlock didn’t move, but his eyes grew fractionally colder with each hour that most called ungodly ticking by.

“You didn’t have to wait up.”

Her voice followed the shutting of the flat’s front door, and her footsteps were muffled on the carpet. She unwound her scarf and tossed it haphazardly over her chair, the one that used to be John’s before he moved in with Mary.

“Did you have fun?” Sherlock’s tone was sharp, and hinted at mocking.

She chose to ignore him, knowing he wouldn’t listen to her like this. It was a mark of her status in his eyes, and her confidence and familiarity with the abrasive detective, that she was unintimidated by his tone and felt comfortable with blatantly ignoring him.

Her coat was already coming off and being hung on the coat hanger she brought with her when she moved in with him.

“You know some people would call it cheating,” Sherlock spoke again, and his tone was sharper with annoyance at her refusal to be provoked by him.

“We’re not exactly the definition of a couple,” you replied evenly with a tone that implied you didn’t care about his opinion, but your vivid (E/C) eyes glinted with annoyance.

There was nothing he could say to that, and he knew it. You were absolutely correct, and he hated that. You had practically waltzed into Sherlock’s life one day, looking for a flat mate, and had beaten the detective at his own game of deduction. Of course, that caught his attention, which rarely happened. And one day he found you at a crime scene Lestrade had called him to. Sensing his unasked demand of what you were doing there, you had smirked at him and simply said, “I was bored.” From then on, he had viewed you with a more than casual interest, and you two had wordlessly agreed to become a team.

Eventually, a relationship grew between you two. And while the public thought it was a match made in heaven with their typical eagerness to have a celebrity couple to adore, you two were anything but perfect. In the public spotlight, you presented a unified front. In private, you fought constantly.

You were ruthless when it came to criminals, and now Sherlock realized you could be just as heartless with dating. If he could even call this relationship dating. You weren’t an official couple in your own words, and you saw that as an excuse to do whatever the hell you wanted.

Even meeting up with other men.

(One, two, ready
Here we go)

It ain’t the gun
It’s the man behind the trigger
Gets blood on his fingers
And runs
It ain’t the lie
It’s the way that the truth is denied

Sherlock regarded you coldly over his fingertips. “Clearly.” His response was clipped, and finally elicited a heated reaction he had wanted from you.

“And what exactly does that mean?” You shot back, turning to glare at him. “It wasn’t anything meaningful, either, just so you know. A couple of drinks. One kiss. That’s all.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Sherlock snapped back, anger heating his tone. “It went further than that, and you know it, Y/N. Of everything you could have said, I thought you knew better than to lie to me.”

“So what? It’s not like you don’t keep secrets either,” you retorted. “One minute you’re telling me we’re not a couple, the next you’re jealous of something that didn’t go further than a couple of kisses in a dark alleyway.”

“Oh, so it was only a couple of kisses. That makes it so much better, Y/N.” His tone was carried heavy sarcasm, and you rolled your eyes with a huff.

“Get over it, Sherlock. You’re being a brat about this, and you know it.” You turned on your heel, fuming, and reached for your coat. You had no intentions of staying here if Sherlock was going to be so bloody annoying and childish. Besides, it had never bothered him before, so you saw no reason for it to now.

“Going out again, then?” Came his angry retort. “Going to find someone you can sleep the night away with? Should I expect you back for tea in the morning, or will you be too busy with a stranger?”

“Bloody hell, Sherlock!” Your tone was rising, and you whirled to face him. He had come to a standing position, and was glaring at you. You returned the glare with equal passion. “I refuse to be around you when you’re so blinded with your hate of me! I suppose you have a list, then? Of all my sins? Of everything I’ve done to offend you? Go on, then, read it! Tell me exactly why I make you so angry constantly.”

Sherlock went to answer, then stopped, gauging your expression. He knew you better than anyone, of course. He knew almost everything about you, from the tiny movements that denoted your amusement to the slight twitch of your hand that indicted tears. And yes, there it was, a twitch in your left hand.

In that instance, he realized he had gone too far. Yes, you had been rude and hurtful, but his comments had been uncalled for.

So instead of making yet another one, he simply stood and stared at you, uncharacteristically silent. With a shake of your head, you turned and left for the second time that night, slamming the door behind you.

He made no move to follow you.

But if there is one thing that I’m guilty of
It’s loving and giving when you take too much
If somebody asked how we died
Please look them straight in the eye

Sherlock remained frozen in his spot after you stormed out in a whirl of hurt and anger, resisting the urge to go after you. You had no right to go treating him like that, after all that you had put him through.

Evening after evening, you walked out early on only to return in the early morning hours when the city found a brief respite from the business of diurnal normality. Each of those mornings he heard you come in, your footstep light despite your exhaustion, and each of those mornings he heard you slip into your bedroom quietly. Each morning found him lying awake, listening for the sound of your return, different emotions playing across his face as he once again listened to you find your way into your bed and collapsed, tired from your night out and hoping to catch a few hours of sleep before you were supposed to rise and start a new day.

Sometimes, once he knew you were asleep, he rose from his own bed and quietly opened your door to look in at your sleeping form, knowing he needed to confront you but not wanting to disturb the tense relationship you two had shared, hyper aware that it could easily shatter should anything upset it.

Tonight, he was too tired and angry with your late night outings to care about what such a confrontation would mean for the future of your relationship. He had planned his words carefully, knowing you would fight with him. Ultimately, however, he had believed you would see his side and apologize.

He hadn’t counted on the extent of your own anger towards him.

And he wasn’t sure what had caused it.

This, he thought with a cold disappointment, was exactly why he had always avoided any sort of serious romantic relationship. Love. Love was a poison. It often did the exact opposite of what one expected it to, or seemingly on a whim forced one of its victims to do something completely out of character.

Say, for example, let someone endure the suffering caused by the one they were supposed to love and who was supposed to love them back.

Because despite it all, all the fights and the raised voices and the silent but cold looks you exchanged with him on a more common daily basis than either of you would have liked, Sherlock was wise enough to admit the truth.

He loved you.

Call it suicide
Don’t fabricate
Just tell them babe
It was suicide
Don’t sugarcoat it
Just let them know

He wasn’t sure when he had realized it, but one day, during a crime scene preliminary survey where you were checking out a blood splatter across the brick wall nearby, he had looked up and his eyes had landed you, your expression a mask of concentration. And he had realized, with breathtaking clarity, his feelings for you.

Never, never, had Sherlock Holmes imagined the day where he could lay eyes on someone and feel something other than grudging acceptance of their presence. Well, except for John, but he had trouble sometimes there, too. But you…

How had he not realized it before? He, Sherlock Holmes, who was in control of his emotions and his mind, had been deceived into falling in love. Maybe it was the glint of excitement in your eyes that appeared whenever a new case was brought to your attention. Maybe it was the way you fearlessly ran into danger to pursue the truth no matter the cost. Maybe it was the way you stood up to him, unafraid of anything he could say or do to you in retaliation. Maybe it was the way you stood up to everyone who snapped at him to defend him with a crushing sentence.

No, he had never admitted his feelings for you, because he had been so sure it would pass. Eventually, this feeling would pass and everything would go back to normal. His mind wouldn’t become instantly obsessed with you every time you walked in a room, and his heart wouldn’t seem to skip beats when you looked or talked to him. He needed everything to go back to normal. He needed to rid himself of this dangerous emotion that seemed to hold unimaginable sway over him, a man of rationale and science.

His hand clenched and he threw his glass at the wall, not bothered by the crack of shattering glass against wallpaper that did nothing to soften the blow.

It ain’t the knife
It’s the way that you use it
How you abuse it in fights
It ain’t about the life
You feel you were given
As long as you’re living it right

You waited until the door of the flat was slammed close and you were exiting the front door downstairs to hesitate. Your head turned almost of its own accord to allow you to see the window of your flat. Your gaze caught the dark figure standing in full view staring down at you with an unreadable expression, and you hesitated just another second before you shook your head, turning at the same time, an almost overwhelming urge to escape Sherlock’s judgment tugging you away from the flat and your confusing life within its walls.

You kept yourself together, afraid for anyone to see the tumultuous emotions raging within you and recognize your face. Sherlock’s words had cut you deeper than you had let on, and you cursed yourself quietly as the cold night air hit your face in a chilling wind.

You knew he was right, of course, no matter what the typical definition of a couple looked like. Even atypical couples usually tended to avoid meeting up with other people with the intention of what was basically cheating.

You hadn’t meant to cheat— No, you knew better and so did Sherlock, which made all excuses useless in your defense. You were brilliant, and you weren’t shy about that fact, so he knew that you had known exactly what you were doing when you allowed another man to kiss you and hold your hand in a public street. If you hadn’t wanted it, it wouldn’t have happened and that was a simple fact. And Sherlock knew it just as well as you did, which made it cheating. There was no other word for it.

Yes, you had chosen it, but you didn’t simply chose to go out and cheat for no reason. You did everything for a reason, and you were positive Sherlock was aware there was a reason behind your actions. You were angry and bitter, and you had wanted to teach him a lesson. Which had clearly backfired, but you weren’t surprised. You hadn’t been expecting it to really work anyway.

Still, some foolish part of your mind had been holding out for him to realize that you were angry with him.

A muffled ringtone sent your thoughts scattering away, and you glanced at the ID after pulling the phone out of your pocket. Why? Why the hell had he called you now?

“What?” You snapped by way of greeting as soon as you answered.

“Come back.” Sherlock stated, his tone still sharp but less frosty.

“Knock off, Sherlock. You’re angry, and all my return will do is invite more arguing. We both know that. So you either called me to argue with me further, or say something else. Which one is it?”

“Will you just talk this out with me without getting irrational about my intentions, Y/N?” He retorted.

“Look, Sherlock. When we met, we both agreed a professional relationship was the best we could manage, and then we both went and made a stupid mistake. So why don’t we just admit we were right the first time and part with the resemblance of friendship?” You spat. Hatred of him, of everything you had gone through with him, poisoned your tone.


“Goodbye, Sherlock.”

If there is one thing that I’m guilty of
It’s loving and giving when you take too much
If somebody asked how we died
Oh, you look them straight in the eye

Sherlock hated many things. Idiots, Anderson, people who insulted or hurt you or John, his brother in general, and boredom. And on this occasion, he hated himself above all else, but more than anything, he hated losing you. And he knew that now. He couldn’t stand losing the only person who truly understood what it was like to be him, what it was like to be so bright and yet so insecure. And he knew he was going to get you back no matter what it took. Whatever happened between you two, he would fight for you and win because he was Sherlock Holmes and he didn’t lose.

Only he had no idea how to get you back.

So he called the only person he could.

He paced the flat anxiously, silently pleading for his other best friend to pick up despite the hour. The clock ticked the hour of one a.m. away while he waited and waited and waited.

And finally, there was an answer.

“Sherlock?” Came John’s sleepy, albeit worried, voice.

“John, I need your help.” Sherlock responded instantly, his voice upset. That in itself was enough to cause worry — Sherlock never let his emotions take over, and this tone was uncontrolled, unlike the times when the detective would call about a case, excited but controlled.

“What is it? Did something happen to Y/N?” Sherlock could hear the sounds of John sitting up and flipping on a light, and the resultant sleepy murmurs of Mary.

“I lost her, John, and I don’t know how to get her back,” Sherlock said, but his tone was pleading. Desperate. Completely uncharacteristic.

“You lost her?”

Yes, John, understand! I lost Y/N. She broke up with me, and I need her back. I don’t know how to do that. How do I get her back, John?”

There was a pause, which found Sherlock pacing more furiously and close to another outburst, before he replied. “Fight for her, Sherlock. Where is she now?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Find her. Go after her. That’s what she wants, to know that you really do care about her.”

“She should know that already!”

“Sherlock,” John’s voice became a little stricter, “how is she supposed to know when you place everything before her? You cancel dates to work on cases. You brush her off when she comes to you. And, more recently, you constantly criticize her. And she’s tired of it. She’s probably going to find someone who doesn’t take her for granted.”

Sherlock was silent, the surprise of discovering how you truly felt from John of all people taking any response he could have given away from him. Did you really feel this way? Did he really take you for granted? He knew he could act like that towards others around him, but you… He had really thought he had acted differently towards you. And you never tended to show your emotions openly, but he had been able to read you easily. At least, he had thought so.

But then, maybe you had hidden your true feelings away too well and he had always been to busy to realize you were never really around anymore, that your heart had found a different place to be and it wasn’t with him anymore.

John was right. He needed to go after you, and explain why he needed you to come back.

There was only one way to do that, he realized as he swung his coat on and finally opened the door to chase down the woman he loved and had lost.

Call it suicide
Don’t fabricate
Just tell them babe
It was suicide
Don’t sugarcoat it
Just let them know

Your hands were shoved deep into your pockets as you trudged along, reluctance dogging your every step while doubt and uncertainty plagued your mind, your anger cooling off in the frozen night air drifting invisibly around you. With each warm breath of air you released, a small area of cold air in front of you was lit up in small, misty clouds painted white by the street lamps guarding you nearby. Should you have stayed? Should you have heeded Sherlock’s words and returned to talk it out? You knew Sherlock was trying to be reasonable, and you had brushed him off with nothing more than a thinly-veiled breakup and hostility.

Still, you didn’t want to talk. Your anger with his treatment of you had gone beyond the talking point months ago. How did he not get that? Then again, Sherlock Holmes, the brilliant scientist and crime detective, wasn’t quite so smart when it came to his own relationships, and yours and his in particular.

You knew the best thing for you was to escape him and the unhealthy relationship that had developed, yet a small part of your heart was holding out for his arrival to announce something you had been waiting for ever since you had started dating him.

Unlike him, you knew you were in love with him. It had become obvious to you soon after you met him, but you had never told him, patiently waiting for him to ask you out. And then he did, but in all the months of your romantic relationship, three simple words you had longed to hear had never passed his lips and now it looked like they never would.

Your hand was already rising to brush the tears away when you first became aware of them, and you forced yourself to straighten up. You didn’t need Sherlock Holmes; it would hurt like hell, but you would walk away once and for all.

At least, that was the plan.

Except plans, even ones by world-famous geniuses, tended to upend themselves and never quite work out the way they were wanted to.

Some tiny part of you knew that.

You’ve been killing me softly
And finally the pain is too much
And I’m all out of whisky
To soak up the damage you’ve done

Sherlock tracked your phone, correctly guessing you would still have it on you even after his call. You were too smart to go throwing phones away simply so he wouldn’t have your number right now. You could always quite easily get a new one, and he had doubt that if he let you go forever, you would do exactly that.

So he followed the directions coming from his phone to get to yours and to you. His step was hurried and full of anxiety, and it was clear to anyone watching. Absently, people wondered what the detective was worked up about as he brushed past them without even a cursory glance at their anonymous faces before returning to the pressing matters of their own busy lives.

He saw your phone was moving steadily, but slowly, away from him just a couple of streets away. His urgency increased, prompting his pace to do the same, and Sherlock shoved his phone into his pocket roughly, his mind flooded with the possibilities of words he could string together to convince you why this should have just been a minor argument and nothing to leave over. Hadn’t you once said angry arguments were just excuses that people to get worked up over for no reason? And he agreed. Reasonable discussion of differing opinions was one thing; actual arguments filled with emotional defenses and rising voices were another.

Oh, God, he hoped John was right and he could win you back. Sherlock had always prided himself on his independence from everyone else and the ability to detach himself from his emotions, but you were a different matter. No matter how he put it, Sherlock was faced with the truth.

He needed you.

And he knew you needed him just as much.

So he continued on, and finally turned a corner to step onto the street you were on. His eyes found your form almost immediately, moving away from another figure following you. As he drew closer, his eyes narrowing, your voice drifted back to him quite clearly.

“Stop following me, for God’s sake!” You snapped at the man, for Sherlock could now quite easily see it was a man now, dogging you.

“C’mon, darlin’, one kiss wouldn’t hurt,” the man slurred his words heavily and that alone was enough to make Sherlock’s opinion go from annoyance at his existence to downright hatred. His hand slipped inside his coat and he continued walking towards you as his fingers grasped the cold handle of the gun he had taken to carrying.

The sound of you slapping the man and your following curses, a string of language that would have made a Royal Navy sailor blush, followed the drunk’s imploring. The drunk fired back with his own curses, and a quest to grab your arm and drag you into a dark alleyway.

“She said no,” Sherlock’s voice rang out after he decided to make himself known. You and the man both turned instantly, and while his eyes widened at the sight of the handheld firearm pointing at him, disbelief and anger flickered across your features. Your mouth tightened into a thin line as your eyes met Sherlock’s as he continued. “So I suggest you leave before you pay for your actions.”

The man looked ready to pee himself with fear as he stumbled away, but you simply muttered a curse and turned away, angry with Sherlock for rescuing you and angry with yourself for providing a situation where he could. You didn’t need him, you were perfectly fine on your own.

“Y/N—” Sherlock started, his simultaneous action being to step forward and almost reaching for you with his free hand. Your automatic step back was enough to make him draw back, something flashing in his eyes.

“Don’t!” You snapped at him. “Please, just leave me alone. Just…” Your tone was exhausted more than anything at this point, and it hurt Sherlock to know he was the cause.

If there’s anything I’m guilty of
It’s loving you too much
If anybody asks how we died

“You don’t get to make a decision for the both of us, Y/N,” he stated, a little sharpness finding its way into his voice again. “Not when they affect both of us. You’re wrong. I was wrong. Can we both admit that and move on?” He pleaded a little.

“What exactly were we wrong about, Sherlock? You’re going to have to be specific, because it seems like we’ve both been wrong a lot lately.” You didn’t bother trying to hide the tears glittering in your eyes now. He would have been able to tell your emotional state even if you had looked completely calm. As it was, you looked like you were barely holding yourself together and felt like falling apart.

“We were wrong about each other,” he answered quietly, and that sentence stopped your lips as they were forming another angry response. Your eyes widened slightly, and he let that statement hang in the air above you two as your gazes locked. He continued just as softly a minute later. “We were wrong about each other, Y/N. I thought I didn’t need you. You thought I didn’t care about you after all. We both acted in ways we shouldn’t have.”

“I…” Your voice trailed off, swallowed by the pressing night air surrounding you two as you remained locked in your own little world where no one but Y/N L/N and Sherlock Holmes existed. Your tone wavered with the weight of your confusion and hesitancy.

“You know I’m right, Y/N. And you’re right — as far as your actions are concerned, tonight seemed to be no different. You followed your normal routine, and yes, I know all about it.” He smiled slightly after forestalling your question. You had been so sure he was oblivious to your nightly routine. Maybe he hadn’t been so occupied after all. “What I didn’t know is why you did it. I would lay awake at night, listening to your footsteps, and I would wonder, Y/N. I wondered why you of all people went out to find someone else to talk to, to be close to, to hang out with, instead of me. I doubted myself. Was I not good enough? Were you not sure you wanted to continue our relationship? Was I simply awful at all romantic relationships like I had always believed I was?” He shook his head at himself, but his gaze remained on yours, holding you in place, forcing you to listen to him.

“Sherlock…” You began again, but once again your voice was taken by both Sherlock holding up a gloved hand and the wind snatching away your words and any defense you might have thrown up.

“Y/N, please. Let me finish.” He took a staggering deep breath, seemingly steadying himself for what was coming next. “Most of all, I wondered why it bothered me. Never before had any such occurrence bothered me if it was completely separate from a case. What did romance, what did a serious relationship, mean to me? Nothing. Not if it couldn’t think for itself and help me solve a case. You know what happened with Molly. With Irene. With Janine.” He allowed a faint, bitter smile to twist his lips.

You did know what had happened to the women who had previously dated Sherlock. The one with Molly hadn’t ended pretty. She had left, crying and accusing Sherlock of being less than human in his priorities — when she had forced him to choose between her and a case involving another woman, he had picked the case, effectively ending their relationship. And Irene’s past with Sherlock was a complicated matter that one didn’t lightly approach with the intent of delving into. It had also ended with his priorities being mere cases over human beings interested in being around him. As for Janine… That relationship hadn’t even been real.

“So why, exactly, did your comings and goings and nights out with other men bother me so much I would lay awake, half hoping you wouldn’t dare walk through the front door again and half afraid that you wouldn’t, that something had happened. After spending so much time with you, somehow, I had begun to place you above mere cases. I began letting you have value in my life independent from crimes and mysteries. And then… Then I realized.”

He paused, and you felt your breath catching in your throat because of anticipated excitement chasing it, and your heart fluttering lightly like a million butterflies hovering together in one spot. Was he going to say it? Would he… He was so damn close, and your heart ached to hear the words fall from his lips.

Hell, if he said it, you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop your own words.

[Chorus x2:]
Call it suicide
Don’t fabricate
Just tell them babe
It was suicide
Don’t sugarcoat it
Just let them know

“Maybe it was the first day I saw you and I was too blind to my own emotions. Maybe it was after that that I realized what I hadn’t dared to think about. I don’t know when the hell I realized it, Y/N, and I don’t know why I didn’t realize it before. All I know is that I’ve realized it tonight,” he breathed, his body seeming to move of its own accord closer to you. You remained rooted to your spot, helpless as the man you loved drew closer and closer to you in a memorizing way.

“Realized what?” You whispered, the words barely audible with the strength and weakness of the hope they contained.

“That I love you, Y/N L/N. I love you so much it hurts, Y/N, and I can’t lose you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and you are the one thing that I cannot be without anymore. I love you. I love you, so don’t you dare leave me. Please.” His voice was quiet, almost pleading and desperate, but his eyes shone strangely, almost watery, in the light of the streetlight a few meters away.

“Goddamnit, Sherlock Holmes, I love you too.” Your hand reached up before you realized it, brushing Sherlock’s cheek.

“We’re going to find a way through this, I promise. You’re everything, Y/N, and I will protect you. Just stay with me. Please.” His hands found yours, holding yours firmly in a grip that conveyed everything he couldn’t find the words to explain to you. You gave him a faint smile of your own.

“I would be a bloody fool to walk away from the man I love more than anything, Sherlock. Remember that. I love you, too, and that will never change.”

He laughed softly, and the next thing you knew was his warm lips against yours in a kiss that promised everything to you, and you returned it quite eagerly.

Oh baby
Just let them know

Go Out With Me - Sherlock Holmes x Reader

A/N: My first Sherlock one (two?) shot! I’m sorry about two things; 1. English isn’t my native language, so I don’t really know the difference between American and British English, save for some words and accent; and 2. sorry if it’s too OOC, but I watched this TV show recently and still not familiarised with the characters. I got inspired by Donna and Harvey’s relationship, in Suits xD :p Enjoy! <3

Word count: I have no idea

Originally posted by silent-micka

Keep reading

My Future (Lafayette x Reader)

My Future

Laffy Taffy X reader


A/N: I wrote this a while back for my friend and she said it was good so i finally got around to posting it. Also,Today (3/16/17) is my birthday! And Madison’s! XD Enjoy!

Modern AU

Warnings- may be cursing,idk,google translated French

summary-A day at the park with your boyfriend and his friends who seem to be hinting to something that you don’t know about.


“Laff?” I ask my boyfriend,staring at the sky as we sit on a park bench. I swing my legs back and forth.

“Oui,mademoiselle?” Lafayette replies,intertwining his fingers with mine, smiling.

“Do you ever think about your future?” I ask, watching the white clouds roll above us.

“All the time,Y/N. Why do you ask,mon cher (my dear)?” He replies.

“I dunno, Laff,” I pause, asking myself if I should actually ask him this question. “L-laff, am I ever…am I ever in your thoughts of the future?” I tear my eyes away from the sky and look at him. He’s looking back at me with his soft, brown eyes.

“Every time, mademoiselle. Je t'aime (I love you.).” He whispers.

I smile and hug him.

“I love you, too, Lafayette.” I whisper back. We pull apart and he stands up. I follow suit. He nods his head to the downtown ice cream shop. “Let’s go get some crème glacée (ice cream.).”

Lafayette bought me an ice cream cone and takes me to a booth. I feel guilty and offer him some of my ice cream. He chuckles and shakes his head. I smile and take a bite of the flavorful ice cream. I watch as he texts something to somebody and wonder what he’s talking about.

“Je t'aime,” I say, barely audible and Laff looks up at me, smiling. “Je t'aime tellement (I love you so much.), Gilbert.” I murmur. I’d finally remembered the right pronunciation to those words.

“Je t'aime, Y/N.” He replies and we share a smile. I take another bite of my, now melting, ice cream and Lafayette laughs as he wipes away melted ice cream off of my chin and cheeks. We sit in silence as I finish my ice cream.

“What are we gonna do now?” I ask him, throwing the napkins away and taking his hand. We leave the ice cream place and walk down the sidewalk of New York.

“Monsieur (Mister) Alexander wanted us to meet him and the others at the park,rappelles toi (remember)?” Laff chuckles and I blush a little.


I see Laff’s friends, Alex, Hercules, and John, walking towards us. I poke Laff’s arm and point to the three men. I smile as Laff waves and yells, “Bonjour!”

“Hey, girrrrrrrrllll!” Hercules greets me and the four men laugh. I smile, shaking my head at them.

“How’s it going, love birds?” Alex asks, elbowing Laff.

“Mon Dieu (my God) …” Laff mutters, but I see him smile.

“What about you and Eliza?” I pipe up,rocking on my feet. John and Hercules snicker at my comment.

“We’re better than ever,Y/N.” Alex replies. I nod.

“John,how’ve you’ve been?” I ask.

“I’ve been great,Y/N. Thanks for asking.” John answers.

I look at Hercules. “You?”

“I made these great dress designs,come look.” He holds his hand out and John puts a book in it.

“Yenno,Y/N,” John begins, resting his arm on my shoulder, as Herc flips through his book. “You could model these. ‘Specially the wedding dresses,right Alexander?”

Laff’s friends chuckle and I roll my eyes,not knowing what their talking about. Hercules shows me his sketches.

I over-hear John, Alex, and Laff talking in low voices.

“’S not like I actually told her.” John explains.


“Don’t worry,Laff.” Alex assures my boyfriend.

“These are really good,Herc!” I say,glancing over the dresses. Hercules smiles and turns the page.

“Bruh,these are the wedding dresses John here was talkin’ about.” Hercules points to more skteches. Lafayette is now looking over our shoulders at the pictures.

I sit in the grass, alone, as Lafayette talks to his friends. I laugh as I try to catch lightning bugs. I lie down in the grass and spread my arms out, smiling, staring at the stars. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lafayette, lying down next to me. His friends lie next to him. He takes my hand and I smile.

“You two are so in love.” Alexander’s voice speaks. I smile.

“Oui. I love her so much.” Lafayette agrees and squeezes my hand.

“I love you too.” I reply.

“You two ever gonna get married?” John asks.

I sit up quickly. Laff slowly sits up.


The others sit up.

“Mademoiselle? What’s wrong?” Laff asks.

“I….I’m alright. Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Hercules questions me.


Laff would never wanna marry me, would he?

I sit on the park bench from earlier,swinging my legs back and forth. Laff’s arm is around me. John,Alex,and Hercules are…Lord knows where they are,honestly.

“Y/N,follow me,s'il te plait,amour (please,love).” We stand up and I follow Laff,barely awake. The moon shines above us and I nearly fall on a rock or something.

“Laff,I’m super tired.” I groan and he chuckles,dragging me somewhere.

“We can go home after this,Je promets (I promise).”

I look up to find his hand out for me to take. We’re standing in front of a lit up gazebo,where-of course-Hercules,Alex,and John are standing with Eliza and her sisters. My eyes widen as I take his hand,realizing what’s happening. I suddenly am wide awake and I feel a tear slip from my eyes.

He takes me up and smiles before kneeling down and Hercules hands him a little black box.

“Y/N,Je t'aime tellement. And do not worry, you’ve always been the one I wanted to marry since you said yes to me for the first time. You’re so beautiful, kind,and smart. Y-you’re funny and your eyes-oh your yeux pétillants (sparkling eyes). Your smile lights up a room. Your laugh is like music. Y/N, Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement. Je promets that I will never not amour (love) you.

Je ne vous blesserai jamais exprès (I will never hurt you on purpose). Je veux que tu saches que (I want you to know that.).”

“Laff,” I interrupt him. His face becomes disappointed. “You slipping into french.” I tell him and he laughs.

“Sorry, mademoiselle,” He tells me. “Y/N,” He opens his little box and a ring sits inside.

“Will you marry me?”

“Of course!” I say and hug him tightly. Cheers sound from around us. We pull away and he puts the ring on my finger. I kiss him.

“You were always in my future, Y/N.” He whispers, hugging me.

Home ( Jefflams x reader )

Title: Home
Shipping: Jefflams X Reader ( Poly! Jefferson, Alexander,John X Reader)
Tags: @cupofkauffie @spilledkauffie
Warning- Angst, angst, angsty angst
Note: Well, you know who Nervous Smol Bean anon is now XD ❤️

She watched silently as darkened skies were coloured with stars . Silently, a figure crept up behind her and wrapped strong arms around her waist. She leant back onto his bare chest and she allowed him to pull her back to the bed where their other lovers were waiting. The (H/C) haired girl curled in between her South Carolinian boyfriend and her Caribbean lover as her other boyfriend from Virginia wrapped his arms around all three of them. Anyone who saw them would never have guessed that only a few days ago, they had all been in a horrible argument……

Considering your background, you had a good life. You had three amazing boyfriends who loved you to the moon and back. True, they got extremely busy sometimes, but they always made time for you. Though recently, however, Alexander and Thomas had been arguing more, bringing back too many unpleasant memories of your parents before they split up. Fortunately the arguments only lasted a few minutes before one of them stormed off. Then about thirty minutes later they’d reappear and the two will say sorry in synch. It was routine.

Though something was different this time. There was so much hate in the apartment as you stepped in, arms loaded with groceries and your backpack clinging to your back. John immediately came to the door and helped you with the groceries, kissing your cheek. You hadn’t noticed anything different until you stepped into the living room- Alexander and Thomas were glaring at each other as Alex flung an insult at Thomas.
“If it weren’t for you, this wouldn’t be happening! If you’d never even joined this relationship then everything would have been happy and good. But you decided to come along and wreck it!” Alexander yelled at the poofy-haired man. You gasped at what he’d said, instantly snapping Alexander’s attention of you. Thomas merely rolled his eyes.

For a full hour, heartless insults were thrown back and forth. At some point, you had backed against a wall and slid down it. Bringing your knees to your chest, you buried your face in your knees, tears silently rolling down your cheeks as old doors were flung open, spilling the memories of your past into your current situation. John had stayed in the bedroom, wanting nothing to do with the argument, though you prayed John would come back into the room and rescue you. As the yells of your lovers got louder, your sobs grew harder and louder. After another half hour of this, there was a silence cast upon the apartment, two of your boys glaring at each other coldly, as if daring the other to say something. Through this silence, you mentally debated whether to say anything but you opted not to, however, you couldn’t stop the tiniest whimper slipping from the home it had made on your lips. Both of your boyfriends snapped towards you, glaring still and you gulped, looking down in shame.
“You know what, I was wrong, you’re the problem here. If you weren’t so weak then maybe we’d want you!” Alexander hissed
“And if you were prettier and smarter.” Thomas continued, eyes boring into your skull as you felt fresh seas prick your eyes.
“And if-” Alexander began before stomping feet cut him off. John stormed into the room and gently pulled you up, taking both your hands in his.
“Go get a bag, pack it with clothes and anything you’ll need, we’re going away for a few days” he whispered, so the other two couldn’t hear. You nodded weakly, moving one of your hands from his soft ones to wipe your tears. John sighed gently before kissing your forehead and letting you go get your things together. Alexander and Thomas exchanged a glance before John turned back to pair
“How could you?! You two arguing together is one thing, however, bringing our beautiful, kind, strong, intelligent girlfriend into it and insulting her in her weakest time is crossing the borders. And that’s why..” John sighed, slightly doubting his decision before shaking his head. They put this on you when they didn’t need to. It was their turn to feel your pain ”That’s why I’m taking (Y/N) and getting out of this damned house.”

They couldn’t believe it. Alexander’s and Thomas’s jaws were dropped and there was so much sadness and heartbreak in their eyes
“J-John, please rethink this.” Alex said quietly
“No. It’s time you two learned not to take advantage of what you have because you might not have it forever. We’re getting out of here and that’s final.” John replied coldly before walking to the bedroom and packing his stuff. You had finished your packing and were sitting on the bed, hiding your face in your hands, tears still rolling down your cheeks. John felt his heart crack at the sight of you and sat next you. He gently pulled your hands away from your face
“Cmon babygirl. We’re going to get out of here. Away from the,. And don’t listen to anything they said, none of it’s true. You’re a gorgeous goddess with the brain of a genius and you are strong than all of us, whether you choose to believe it or not. Now let’s get out of here. Okay?“ He asked softly and kissed your forehead
“O-okay.” You nodded and gave him a weak smile “I love you.”
John smiled a little “I love you too babygirl. Now grab your bag and let’s go,” he got up and grabbed his bag with one hand and took your hand in the other. You squeezed it tightly as you made your way through the apartment, clutching your bag. Thomas and Alexander apologised again and again and even tried to pull you away from the door. But you flinched and scooter closer to John, burying your face in his shoulder, John clinging to your hand so the guys couldn’t take you. Eventually, you finally got out of the door. John let go of your hand, reaching for your bag. Now normally, you would snatch your bag away and say you were an independent woman and John would laugh and kiss your forehead before gently pushing you to Thomas who’d lift you onto his shoulders. Then Alexander would tickle your sides, stretching a lot to reach you on Thomas’s shoulder and John would take your bag. But Thomas and Alexander weren’t there. And you weren’t happy and giggled. You were broken. So you helplessly allowed John to take your bag. Trailing behind him, the curly-haired boy lead you to his car.

It had been three weeks. Three weeks since you’d seen your other two boyfriends and you desperately wanted to crawl back to them, but you knew it’d be better if you didn’t. You’re phone was blown up with texts and calls and FaceTime calls and whatever else from Alexander and Thomas. Lafayette and Herc would tell you what they said so you didn’t get the temptation to message them back or answer the calls. You and John were staying with Herc and Laf since they were the closest thing to family the two of you had. John had gone out and you were sitting upside down on the couch, watching the two gay- ahem- super bisexual ( A/N: I read this on something else and I laughed so hard ) men playing Mario Kart. There were many explicit words in both English French exchanged between the emptiness of the room and the two men. After about an hour, they turned the game off and began tickling you, causing you to burst into giggles and laughs. It’d been weeks since you’d laughed properly, so John was delighted when he was greeted to your sweet laughter as he walked through the door. When he saw the scene, he grinned evilly and joined the guys, tickling you mercilessly. You screamed for mercy ( ;) ) and eventually they stopped, smiling widely. Herc and Laf sat back and began cuddling together, John copying them and moving you to sit in his lap, holding you close.

“You guys need to talk to them. It’s nearly been a month and they’re clearly sorry.” The suddenness of Laf’s statement nearly made you choke on your dinner. John glanced at you
“We know. I’m just scared it’s gonna happen again.” John replied quietly, patting your back gently so you didn’t cough to death.
“But it might not. And if it does you can leave again. For real this time.” Herc countered
“I don’t know… it depends on what ( Y/N) thinks.” John sighed and you perked up
“I don’t mind. We’re gonna leave tonight to see them!” You said, though you were hesitant.

You bit your lip nervously, clutching John’s hand. You two had left your bags in the car just in case. You and John glanced at each other before you knocked nervously. The door was answered a few minutes later by Alexander. You nearly broke down when you saw him. His hair was a mess, he was deathly pale and thin, he looked as if he hadn’t slept in years and his whole body was shaking. You felt tears fill your eyes and Alexander’s eyes widened.
“J-John? (Y-Y/N)? Is i-it really y-you?” He asked, his tears crinkled as he tried to prevent himself from tearing up.
You instantly nodded and let your tears pour down your cheeks as he pulled you into the tightest hug you’ve ever been in, kissing your hair and forehead and temple, never wanting to let you go.
“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. We both are. Please never do that again.” He sobbed into your shoulder and you clung to him and you shook your head.
“I forgive you. I’m sorry. I love you. I love you. I love you so much.” You whispered quietly, running your fingers through his knotted, unruly hair. A few seconds later, you heard footsteps.
“Darlin’ is everything oka-” Thomas’s weak voice began, stopping in place as he saw you. His hair wasn’t floofy. Just flat. His face was thin and he looked just as exhausted as Alexander but at least it looked like he’d eaten. Thomas instantly pulled you from Alexander and gripped onto you. You heard him whimper quietly, almost silently into your ear. He was so weak. It felt wrong but you held him nonetheless.

Everything was okay. Everything was fine. You had your boys again. You were home.

cluckyeschickens  asked:

Okay so Sunshine sounds wonderful. Tell me more?

OKAY! I’m more than happy to talk about him!

Putting this under a cut. Note, that I had a very terrible upbringing, and was abused. So be warned. Also sadly, Sunshine did pass away in the end, but I will never forget him. He was a very special rooster.

Keep reading

eclair  asked:

Hi~! <3 Will you be taking prompt requests? :) If ever, something fluffy with Otayuri with them reading together. Canon or AU is ok. Beka with glasses is a weakness of mine. If they end up very affectionate in the fic, that would be sweet. (We know Yuri is a sucker for cuddles, even if he won't admit it.) I just want them with books ahaha. It would be fun to see what you'd put as their book selections/choices. XD

Books for Bad Days

It started when Yuri was sick, in the two days between one of the national and European competitions. He needed to rest and the only thing that seemed to work was listening to Otabek talk.

Otabek wasn’t much of a talker.

He exhausted his supply of humorous family get together stories after about eight minutes, and childhood hangout spots only lasted another fifteen.

It was Yuuri’s idea to read.

Otabek’s books were all for university: biology and anatomy and mind-numbing, but it worked. He was in the middle of detailing the tactile differences between knots and cysts when Yuri’s breathing evened out in sleep. Otabek hadn’t considered what to do next: he was sitting up in bed, a pillow between his back and the headboard, and Yuri curled up sideways against him, head in his lap.


Luckily, Yuri slept like the dead. Otabek carefully cradled Yuri’s neck and head as he slid down, replacing his lap with the slope of his shoulder. His arm fell into its familiar hold around Yuri, and he spent far too long cuddling his sick kitten, thanking the universe for the opportunity.

“… Will you read to me, again?” Yuri asked a few weeks later, holding out Otabek’s glasses. He wasn’t sick, but practice had gone long, he’d pulled something in his lower back. It wasn’t a good day.

Yuri didn’t mind Otabek’s textbooks, but they pilfered a paperback from Victor’s nightstand in hopes of something slightly more compelling. They made it about two pages in from the bookmark before realizing it was a trashy romance novel.

The tips of Yuri’s ears reddened liked he’d been out in the winter wind too long. He buried his face into Otabek’s chest with a groan: “Is he really calling his dick ‘Sir John’?”

“I’m just reading what it says,” Otabek smirked. “Do you want me to stop?”

Apparently for Yuri, Otabek’s voice was worth the embarrassment. “No just - not this part. Go back to the beginning.”

Victor only shrieked a little when he learned they’d been reading his ‘literature’.

It became habit after that. Whenever Yuri had a bad day he’d tug Otabek to the bed and slide his reading glasses over his ears. Once Otabek was seated, Yuri curled up sideways, head in his lap, and got his hair pet while Otabek read to him. They learned all about Sir John and Lady Jane, and sometimes - to Yuri’s extreme mortification - Otabek would even pitch his voice for the different characters.

“You know,” Otabek said, “I don’t think this is putting you to sleep anymore.”

Yuri flushed. It wasn’t his fault Victor’s trash was addictive. They had to see if Mellors and Connie got together in the end!

“Maybe we should go back to anatomy…” Otabek mused, thumb following the redness on Yuri’s ear.

“But!” Yuri said. “We’re so close to the end!”

Otabek never laughed, but Yuri’s enthusiasm earned him a smirk. “Okay, okay. Lie back down.”

Yuri settled into Otabek’s lap. He closed his eyes, listening to the steady constant of Otabek’s voice, imagining the scene and the characters. Maybe it was a little sappy, and a little gross, and used really embarrassing words.

But Otabek’s lap was warm, and his voice was strong, and was it really so bad that love always won in the end?

Poly! Hamilsquad x Reader - Accidents Happen

Request - “Poly!Hamilsquad x reader with a reader who gets into a horrible car crash and she suffers major injures and a small amount of brain damage and the stress and shock from the accident kinda causes her to regress into a child like state of mind to cope with the accident and the boys have to take care of her and it’s quite stressful (she throws fits and temper tantrums and she acts like a child basically would)” from @goddess-of-geeky :3

Summary - After getting into a horrible car accident, she soon has this child-like state of mind to forget all the stress and shock. But that attitude made everything worse, that the boys were having a stressful time just by taking care of her.

Timeline - Present day :3

Word Count - 1,509 :3

Trigger Warnings - Swearing, yelling… A LOT OF IT, bratty reader-chan XD, pissed-off Hamilsquad XD, aaaaaaand that’s it, I guess?? XD but if spilled ice cream is a trigger warning, then okay XD


Keep reading

Fic Recs Mega Post

I really might change the name of these posts - I very much hate the one I came up with when I thought I’d only do this once! Anyway, back again with more amazingness from the Hannibal fic writers’ neverending stream of wonders XD This time round there’s a couple of stragglers from the Big Bang, some Spacedogs, some Basic Chickens (love those two) and quite a lot of fae!Hannigram. Man, I love my fandom!

N.B. AO3 author names (if different from tumblr handles) are given in brackets. All works are complete (though some are part of ongiong series).

Unknown Number by @slashyrogue (nightliferogue): Whenever I need a bit of cheering up, I know there are two things I can count on – Spacedogs fluff and slashyrogue’s utter brilliance. Admittedly, this particular fic starts not so much with fluff but with an accidental dick pic (from Nigel to Adam) that quickly leads to some non-accidental dick pics that quickly lead to… well, that’d be spoiling things, wouldn’t it? But you can’t keep the Spacedogs sweetness down, and as Nigel pursues the beautiful boy he’s only glimpsed via phone screen, lust quickly turns something deeper, despite the obstacles (ex-wives, self-esteem issues) they face. Slashy never fails to deliver fun, touching, enthralling fics and this one in particular is like a big fuzzy hug (with dick pics, obvs).

Roman(ian) Holiday & There And Back Again by @desperatelyseekingcannibals (TigerPrawn), parts 6 and 7 of the California & Beyond series: Way, way back when I was a baby fannibal (like, a whole six months ago!), I was a bit hesitant to get into madancy pairings other than Hannigram (I know, can you believe it?). Then a friend suggested I should try Spacedogs because it was just so sweet. And I’ve never looked back, in no small part thanks to the amazing TigerPrawn’s omegaverse series in which Adam and Nigel meet over a misunderstanding, fall in love, become mates and, in these final two instalments, start making plans to get married. Except, Adam’s not entirely sure that’s what he wants, and Nigel’s going to have to face his history before taking this step. The characterisation in this series has always been spot-on, with Nigel convincingly evolving into a strong and loving partner, while Adam’s Asperger’s is always portrayed with sensitivity and intelligence and never allowed to reduce him to a stereotype or a pile of quirks. Moreover, the worldbuilding is brilliantly done, with a fully-realised and detailed omegaverse backing up the plot. Do please go read the whole thing, it’s so worth your time.

Twinkyempath Anthology by @mresundance: When I picked up this fic, it was because I was looking for something I could read on the bus. Something with nice, short chapters that I could dip in and out of without having to concentrate too hard. And then I started reading. And reading. And staying up late just so I could keep reading. Because while this starts out as a fun-and-kinky Q&A fic with Will (the eponymous Twinkyempath) recounting the details of his (extensive) sexual escapades, including his relationship with Hannibal, it quickly reveals itself as something far deeper and more complex. Put it this way, I never expected to cry over something with a title like this. But I did. More than once. This fic grabbed me by the emotional balls and, if I’m honest, still hasn’t quite let go yet.

Bluebeard’s Wife by @dancey94: Fans of the bitchfests between Will and Bedelia, do I have a treat for you! In this omegaverse AU, Hannibal and Bedelia are a married pair of Alphas, though their relationship is one of social-status-raising  convenience rather than love. That doesn’t mean Bedelia is pleased when Hannibal brings home the beaten, beautiful, wilful, homeless Omega (Will) he finds on the streets of Florence, and she does everything in her power to stem their blossoming affection for each other. Want to bet on her chances of success? Meanwhile, Will and Hannibal plan retribution on those who harmed the Omega, whilst attempting to navigate Will’s upcoming heat, Hannibal’s marital status and just what each man wants from the other. Some lovely worldbuilding, deliciously jealous Bedelia, and very hot Hannigram make this fic an utter treat.

Just the Way You Are by @halotolerant: I am so far on board the Basic Chickens ship. Something about this pairing’s chemistry just has me totally in love. Which means I was overjoyed to find that the ever-amazing halotolerant had written this wonderful, multi-chapter piece of Adam/Elias gorgeousness. It all starts when Elias posts his profile on Grindr… and uses his best asset as his picture. A flood of responses ensues, including one from a certain Adam Towers, down-on-his-luck journalist, who is – unsurprisingly – less impressed by Elias in the flesh. Unfortunately for him, Adam just can’t seem to shake this irritating, clumsy, gauche… weirdly endearing… maybe actually kind of attractive… and sometimes very sweet guy. And maybe, as they keep spending time together, it might turn out he doesn’t want to anyway… I just adored the take on the characters here, their layers are explored brilliantly, with both men slowly opening up to each other in the most satisfying, compelling way. In fact, I loved it so much, I immediately went back and read it a second time!

Born In Blood by @thefangirlingdead: An s1 AU, in which Will is suffering from nightmares of blood and murder (as is his wont). Except, one night, he realises that the gruesome killing he’s just dreamt of is no dream at all. So, with blood on his hands, there’s really only one person he can think to turn to… and Dr Lecter is only too delighted with this earlier-than-expected opportunity to guide Will into his becoming. A thrilling and seriously sexy look at how things might have gone if Will had accepted certain things were beautiful before any imprisonments or guttings, this is dark, violent and gorgeous.

A twist of fate, forcing our hands by @nalyras (nalyra): Remember when Bryan Fuller tweeted that Will and Hannibal didn’t talk much on the car ride to the cliffside house because “their lips were busy”? Well here’s what happens when an amazing writer takes a fun tweet and creates an entire, gorgeous fic out of it. Oh, and sets it in an omegaverse, to boot XD. Set both during and after TWotL, Will and Hannibal finally get physical on their way to meet the Red Dragon… but Will is still keeping one last secret from his cannibal. Until the implant that has been suppressing his omegan nature gets ripped out in the fight, that is. Adding abo dynamics gives a fresh perspective to the well-explored post-fall narrative, with Will’s choice to accept his true nature and his bond with Hannibal taking on a more literal meaning. Not to mention, it leads to some very excellent heat sex in later chapters XD

Melanistic Variation by @sunryder: A crossover AU with The Sentinel (as seen also in @toffeecape’s Oddbodies, one of the greatest Hannibal fics ever), in this ‘verse Will is an unbonded guide who finds himself locked up after shooting Garret Jacob Hobbs – the kind of violent act that Guides are not meant to engage in. Having been subjected to the ineffectual prodding of numerous psychiatrists (including Drs Bloom and Chilton), and running rings around them, Will is finally confronted by a more challenging visitor, in the form of Doctor Lecter. Doctor Mischa Lecter. Who has been on the lookout for her brother’s guide for years and who thinks she might just have found him. As well as playing brilliantly with the details of the Sentinel ‘verse (and seriously, there need to be more Sentinel/Hannigram crossovers, it just works so well), this pulls the reader in by drawing out the meeting between Will and Hannibal and what might happen between them. And when it finally happens, it’s so worth it, with an ending that is thrilling, sexy and anything but anticlimactic.

Four Days, Three Nights by @devereauxsdisease (Devereauxs_Disease) with artwork by @postmortemdesign: A little reverse Bang action now, courtesy of the ever-remarkable DD, who does some of her best work (and you know I don’t say that lightly) in this crossover with 1980s sci-fi classic The Thing. Stranded in Antarctica by his assistant Frederick Chilton (who, yes, is a weaselly little coward in every incarnation, save the one in his head), fancy research scientist Hannibal is forced to call on the (reluctant) services of (decidedly unfancy) dog sledder Will to get him to his destination before Chilton can take all the glory. Irritation at first sight quickly goes the way of all Hannigram and before long the pair are USTing all over the snow. Unfortunately, once they get to the base, it turns out Chilton isn’t the only freaky little shit they have to deal with… there’s also the issue of a possibly alien menace to deal with. One Hannibal might know way more about than he’s been letting on… There’s so much good stuff here: Will at his sassy, salty best, Hannibal in long johns, Will lusting after a Hannibal in long johns, WINSTON AS A SLED DOG, humping in sleeping bags… plus a nice dose of sci-fi weirdness to help things along. Miss this at your peril.

Lost in Dumas by @desperatelyseekingcannibals (TigerPrawn): Once again Tiger proves herself the master of rare pairs with this barmy but utterly beguiling fic, in which Grigg Harris finds himself thrown into the world of The Three Musketeers (the Mads version, obvs). Lost, confused and convinced he’s in the middle of a very weird hallucination, things start looking up when Grigg saves the life of a certain booted, eye-patch-wearing captain of the guard. And even further up when it turns out Rochefort isn’t quite the hard bastard he appears… with, perhaps, a soft spot for dimension-hopping sci-fi nerds… Featuring sassy!Grigg, soft!Rochefort and an unexpectedly moving relationship between the two, this is thrilling, funny and brilliant.

Only an Echo by @moku-youbi with artwork by @varali1618 and @granpappy-winchester: Another Big Bang entry, this time a crossover with Lois Lowry’s novel The Giver (with which, I must admit, I’m not familiar). This beautiful and complex fic takes place in a dystopian future, in which all emotion is suppressed by medication and memories of humanity’s past are held only by one person. On his sixteenth birthday, Will is shocked to discover that he is to take over this role and to be trained by his predecessor – a man named Hannibal. The training process is… intimate, and shared memories leads to shared feelings, which leads to… well, it’s Will and Hannibal, you can see where this is going. Sadly, happy endings are hard to come by in futuristic dystopias and our boys must fight against the regime headed by a certain blonde ice-queen in order to have a chance of a future together… and Bedelia’s not giving in without a fight. I was completely enthralled by this fic, despite not knowing the source material and had my heart in my mouth more than once throughout this epic piece of Hannigram.

Let It Be A Fairy Tale by @littlethingwithfeathers (hesterbryde): I’m finishing up with two fae-themed fics, this first of which is this s1 AU. Here Will is not just catnip for killers, he’s also irresistible to the King of the Fairies… who just happens to be his psychiatrist. As ever, Hannibal goes out of his way to manipulate things so that he may have Will all to himself (with Abigail, Alana, Jack and Beverly all affected). And, as ever, Will proves himself a man not easily seduced, not that his reticence puts Hannibal off… Some genuinely beautiful, lyrical writing here, with a terrifyingly powerful and focussed Hannibal (yes, even more than usual) and excellent use of the ensemble cast. The tension is skilfully ratcheted up through to the final chapter and the climax is genuinely unpredictable but seriously satisfying.

Dark Wonders by @possessivenouns (PossessiveNoun): Fae-fic number two, here Will is still an FBI-associated empath (though his powers are somewhat heightened) but he’s investigating the murder of a young human woman whose death is marked by fae magic. The crime scene yields a useful clue: a card advertising an exclusive club owned by powerful fae Hannibal Lecter… who agrees the give the FBI access to his club on one condition. He gets access to their pet empath. This is a fascinating exploration of how Hannibal and Will’s relationship might have developed in a more magical world, weaving in elements of canon with care and imagination and giving us a brilliant example of that famous Hannigram attraction, as Will tries to figure out why he feels so strongly about this man and whether becoming a fae companion would be a very stupid mistake, or the best decision he’s ever made.

As ever, if anything is mis-tagged, or there’s a bad link, let me know and I’ll change it lickety-split. Until next time lovely fannibals!

mad-madam-m  asked:

I'M GONNA SEND YOU ANOTHER ONE BECAUSE I CAN. Sheriff/Melissa from TW, for the prompt: getting caught in the act XD XD XD

It didn’t start out being a secret. At least, they didn’t mean for it to be a secret at the beginning of this whole thing.

No, it started as a casual spur of the moment. A “Hey, I’m getting off the late-night shift around the same time you are, why don’t we get a bite to eat together before we go home and sleep?” kind of thing, where Melissa was like “That sounds delightful, I’m craving pancakes,” and John was like “Rosie’s has the best ones, and they’re open 24 hours.”

And then it became a once-a-week kind of deal. Their schedules didn’t always coordinate, and they didn’t try to force the issue. But, at least once a week, they finished their shifts around the same time, both were more hungry than tired, and so they shared their meal together.

It was nice and pleasant, and they talked about their kids mostly, about the other members of the pack, about the ridiculous shit they have to put up with in this town because of the supernatural. They exchange tips: Melissa shares the best way to get blood out of the Sheriff’s uniforms, and Sheriff shares the best location to store a gun and volunteers to take her to the gun range so she can practice.

Keep reading

Sherlock VDay Challenge Day 4

Sherlock x reader

I am so late x( I started working on this yesterday but couldn’T get to an end and I was busy the whole day so I’m posting this 30 minutes before due time, please forgive me x( Anyway, it’s a Sherlock x reader, back to my usual format of first person writing, thanks to @prettyxlittlexwriter​ who helped me to find a suitable end and most of the prompt really x)

Today’s prompt was “What do you mean you forgot to make the reservation?” for the Sherlock Valentine’s day challenge of @prettyxlittlexwriter. It sort of is a continuation of Day 1 I guess but you don’t exactly need to have read it to understand the plot and etc etc.

If anyone of you wants to read more of these, or try the challenge with us, check for the tag #Sherlock VDay Challenge. There will be every kind of fics, from inserts to ships, both from 2 lists, a general one and a smutty one. 

Enjoy! (I feel like this is becoming my signature xD)

“What do you mean you forgot to make the reservation?!” I angrily exclaimed to Sherlock, as we were waiting in Angelo’s entrance, with a rather uncomfortable waiter.

“That’s not what I said!” he tried.

“That’s exactly what you said Holmes!”

“I did not forget to do the reservation, I simply didn’t think-” he stopped, sighing.

“Didn’t think what? That it would be crowded because people have dates?! You’re a bloody idiot Sherlock!”

The small restaurant was crowded, all the tables filled with couple, some of them on their first date together, others on their millionth since their marriage and some others in double one, all of them talking over each other in an indistinguishable hubbub.

The waiter in front of us seemed completely lost, unsure if he should call his boss or just excuses himself for the unavailability of any table for the three of us. I turned to the rest of the room, ending our argument, pouting. I guess I should have seen it coming, knowing the detective, it was almost sure he would forget such a thing, but part of me felt immensely disappointed of him.

“So… What do we do?” tried John, “We can’t stay here waiting the whole evening and it doesn’t look like any of them is close to leaving.”

“Erm… I’m so sorry mister Holmes, we didn’t think you would come today, if we had known…” apologized the waiter. “Do you want me to get my boss? Maybe we could call you as soon as a table will be free?”

“No, we’ll just go somewhere else.” Answered sternly the man, placing a hand on my shoulder, he motioned to the exit, “As John said, waiting here wouldn’t change much. Are you coming?”

Sighing, I followed them out on the empty streets, chit chatting with John, but completely ignoring our mutual friend. We wandered like this for about an hour before the conversation died out a bit, simply enjoying the moment, but something started for feel odd after a while. Sherlocked hadn’t said anything since we had passed Waterloo Bridge.

“Sherlock?” I turned to where the detective should have been.

Cue the word should, since the complete and utter idiot had wandered off. I was pissed. Bloody pissed. I stopped in my tracks, John with me and looked around, cursing under my breath.

“I swear to God, if I catch this complete bawbag I’ll rip his head off!” I exclaimed.

“He can’t be that far, perhaps we could search for him?” tried John.

“If that’s what you want to do, sure!” I scoffed, “But it’ll be without me. I’m going back home.”

And on that I left, leaving a stunned John in the middle of the street. As I was walking back to my flat, I clenched my fist tightly to refrain the mighty need to punch something (or someone) on my way there. All I wanted was to scream, make a fuss, break something. It had taken me ages to convince him to do something tonight, but not only did he forgot the reservation, he ditched us without any explanation. I groaned. I should have known better.

My mobile buzzed in my pocket. Taking it out, I checked who texted me.

Sherlock. Part of me wanted to delete his text immediately, without even reading it, but curiosity got the best of my and I read it anyway.




I scoffed. This dickhead thought I would come back just like this?

                                                                                              Fuck off Holmes.

Y/N, please you don’t

even know what it is.

                                                                                       I don’t care Sherlock.

                                                                       You ditched us in the middle of

                                                                                   nowhere for God’s sake!

I can explain.

                                                                                                           Yeah sure.

Please come.

You won’t be disappointed.


Y/N please…

I love you.

I sighed. He was trying, wasn’t he…


                                                                                               I’m getting a cab.

                                                                                        You got five minutes.

Hailing a cab, I climbed in and gave him the address, staring outside the window for the rest of the trip. As we arrived, I quickly paid my due and got out in front of 221B, looking at the building. I had spent so much hours there it felt like a second home, I knew every single detail of almost every room of the flat, all of its dimension, its every imperfection. Usually I would have come without hesitation, but today felt forced. I opened the door and the sound of a violin reached my ears. Not the usual beautiful melody Sherlock played all the time, more like a messy and cacophonous serie of notes.

I climbed the stairs as a delicious aroma filled the air. That’s what he was talking about… I suddenly felt like an idiot. Of course he had tried to find another solution, what an idiot I was! I stopped in front of the door, about to open when I thought cross my mind.

John. I had completely forgotten to tell Sherlock he wasn’t with me anymore and now the poor man must have been looking for him! I was about to text him when I heard his voice, barely audible over the violin.

“Stop doing this Sherlock, you’re driving me insane!”

The detective stopped on a last screeching note as I opened the door.

“ You should have told me you were going to cook dinner Sherlock. I wouldn’t have been as much pissed you know…” I said, entering.

“I thought a surprise would be nice for once. I’m sorry, Y/N.” he answered, leaving his violin in his chair.

“I should have known you wouldn’t think the place would have been so crowded, I can’t really blame you. Beside, a dinner with just the three of us sounds great, what do you think John?” I said, turning to the doctor.

“As long as the food isn’t too horrible, I’d rather not end up sick on Valentine’s day.” 

anonymous asked:

I have an AU and no one to discuss it with and you seem chill so: AU where hartley rathaway is a bitter, snarky ghost and unfortunately for cisco, cisco is the only one who can see him. hartley wants revenge on his parents, but he can't really do much to them in a ghost state, so he enlists cisco to help him. cisco thinks he's an asshole, and has some moral qualms with the things hartley wants him to do, so he keeps "accidentally" screwing up the revenge plots until hartley snaps at him (1/2)

(2/2) and asks if he cares that much about what happens to all parents that disown their kid for being gay and don’t shed a tear when he’s found dead from a mugging a month later. cisco doesn’t have anything to say for once, but after that he finds himself just a little more willing to go along with hartley’s petty revenge. he draws his line at anything that could kill someone, but if the data on a multi-billion dollar deal suddenly goes missing, well…. shit happens, right? 

Okay, first of all, poor Hartley :// Second, I love the inherent angst of ghost stories, so I absolutely adore this idea :)

What I wanna know is how long Hartley’s been dead - was it only a few months, or a couple of years or even decades? Also, is Cisco a meta in this AU, or is it a no-powers one? Because the first thing that occurred to me was Cisco trying to find something of Hartley’s so he could vibe about his parents/his life… or maybe Hartley finding out about Cisco’s powers when he accidentally touches Cisco and a vibe happens?

But if it’s a no-powers AU, that would be cool too, with Cisco trying to find out as much as he can… maybe Cisco sneaks himself into some gala where Hartley’s parents are, so that he would have a first-hand experience of what kind of people they are? (I just wanna see Cisco in a sharp suit like in Flashpoint, I admit XDD and maybe Hartley would appreciate the sight too, floating by Cisco’s side and making snide comments about everyone present under his breath, so that Cisco chokes on his champagne a few times)

And I really wanna see Cisco screwing with the revenge plots XD I’m torn between him doing it in such subtle ways that Hartley just thinks he has incredibly bad luck… or doing it in very non-subtle ways that let Hartley know what Cisco thinks about the whole idea XD 

Also Cisco’s colleagues thinking he finally snapped when they hear him arguing with himself and shouting at no one… meanwhile Cisco’s arguing with Hartley like he forgot he’s actually at work :D (Caitlin expressing concern and Cisco not being able to explain lol)

I’m also wondering about the ending… I do love the angst of ghost stories, but it occurred to me that Hartley could be stuck as a ‘John Doe’ in a coma in some hospital, and Cisco doesn’t find out until much later maybe…? After they’ve spent months, if not years hanging out together and they know each other’s quirks and thoughts pretty well, Cisco’s been reading to Hartley who can’t really read because he has no hands to turn pages or even work an iPad… and then maybe one day Cisco has some accident at a lab and goes to an emergency room and spots Hartley? Or he vibes again if he has powers…? Idk I kind of want them to have a happy ending and at the same time I want them to just… stay by each other’s side even if they can’t touch, and I also want Hartley to end up being able to cross over to afterlife and/or maybe being reborn XDD 

sweet-ree  asked:

Drabble list #2: if you have time, 35 or 64 for shenko (m or f) :)

Sorry for taking it so long! I got some struggles with this prompt xDDDD

Prompt: 64 - “Yell, scream, cry, please, just say something, anything.

Hope you like it!

The first thing he feels when his brain begins to work is the pain. Excruciating, crushing and agonising pain. The feeling of hundreds of needles piercing his nape, the pressure on his temple almost unbearable. He can’t open his eyes but is secretly relieved, thinking in the searing torture that light will be for his brain. His body is moving, well, being dragged, and for the sound of it, is Shepard who is carrying him. Why he can’t move? His consciousness comes and goes, and the next time he can hear or feel whatever is happening around him, he is lying in a bed, and someone is taking off his helmet. The pain is a searing one, making him want to cry and scream, but his body is unresponsive. He can hear Liara talking with Shepard, but can’t understand the words. The soothing feeling of medigel being injected into his body fills his bloodstream, easing the pain enough to let his brain understand the words being said around him.

Liara’s voice sounds from his left, “Kaidan needs medical attention. We have to leave the Sol system.”

When a set of fingers caress his face, he didn’t need to see to know that is Shepard. “I know.”

The defeat on that voice will have made him twitch if he can control his body. Liara sounds closer this time, “The Citadel is our best chance. We can find help there.”

With a sigh, the hand move from his face to his chest, leaning over the heart. “Get us to the the Citadel, Joker.” The short ‘Roger that’ from the pilot sounds distant, as his mind begins to drift back to unconsciousness. “Hold on, Kaidan.”

Between the fog of his pain, he catches some words before Shepard’s hand disappears. Soon, silence surrounds him, disturbed only by some soft steps on the metallic floor and the hum of the eezo core. His mind stops fighting short after, letting darkness claim him again.

The next time his mind wakes up, he still can’t control his body, and the pain in the back of his head has multiplied. They were moving him, to a stretcher maybe? He feels several sets of hands lifting him, after immobilising his head. The sound of an omni tool dispensing a dose of medigel preludes the calming sensation of it. The pain subdues a couple of levels, and this gives him the chance to pay attention to the conversations around him. The stretcher swifts, the team moving with haste but with care to wherever they are taking him. Just before he left his mind sleep again, Shepard’s voice reaches him. “Where are you taking him?”

“Huerta Memorial. Best care of the Citadel.”

Keep reading

little-lion-rampant  asked:

Lams, 15 or 22. I couldn't decide. Was in the mood for angst. Thanks! :)

I hope this is enough angst for you? I figured if there are too many miles between them, Laurens must be in France, so this is supposed to take place the night before That Incident when Laurens drew his sword on King Louis (which may or may not be true… but for the purposes of ficlet, yes it is.) I’m also not sure at what point the key and the kite thing happened with Benny Frank, but the opportunity for that insult was too good to pass up. XD Also- apologies again for the formatting, this was another Word document… Enjoy!

Prompt: “Things you said with too many miles between us.”

There was, undoubtedly, going to be another dinner party tonight. It was as if Benjamin Franklin could not help himself, whenever there were no other parties he seemed compelled, as if by some force of nature, to create one himself.

John Laurens was not in favour. It was one thing to have to wait for days on the fickle whims of a pair of monarchs younger than himself, when his was clearly the most pressing proposition in court, but quite another that he had to do so whilst fending off Franklin’s insistence that the best thing about the court at Versailles was the ladies. He had already declined an offer for Franklin to introduce him to a ‘lovely Mademoiselle du Borjuois’ and, on one occasion, walked into his own apartments to find someone by the name of Nina Labrie seated coyly on his windowseat ‘avec une message de Monsieur Franklin.’ The message had been so trivial it hardly needed a messenger to send it, but she still insisted on retaining her seat and discussing the Continental soldiers’ uniforms until dinner. She seemed surprised to learn that they weren’t all in blue and gold and some even lacked proper boots. He had felt a headache coming on.

Benjamin Franklin was… unusual. It was Laurens’s opinion that whatever had happened between Franklin, the key, and the kite had damaged more than it had discovered. The older diplomat took baths without any water, wore a hat that looked like a dead beaver, and made such rude jokes in the company of the court ladies that it was a miracle he was allowed to stay. But somehow, everyone seemed to enjoy having him around.

This enthusiasm seemed to be spared for John. At first he had been a curiosity, encouraged to dress in uniform, to tell stories of ‘la révolution’ and to be interrogated by ladies with ships in their hair and men with swords as thin as needles at their sides about a land they considered idealist and rustic. For them, war was the fashion of the age, and death not a thing to be missed out on, especially if it came theatrically, heroically, and to someone else. When they discovered that he told the truth as truth, with all the mud and screams that accompanied and none of the Glory they seemed to think a tangible currency, they feigned interest, then pretended that they had heard him at all, and then went off to pretend other things for other people.

And so Laurens took walks. He perused the library. He made small conversation about theatre and music and tried to mimic the polite, masked expression he had seen Alexander make for his superiors time and time again. But, having been raised being bowed to, or at least being able to be the first to offer a handshake in any conversation, acting never really came naturally to John Laurens.

He raised his chin from the balcony rail to inspect the stars. They were all still in order, making their way over Versailles like lights on the ripples of a smooth black sea. Teach me how to be orderly, he thought, how to always know what to do next. Teach me to travel without always pining for what I’ve left behind.
Alexander Hamilton was far too many miles away.

One could line up all the hugs they had ever shared and it still would not be enough to span the dividing ocean. Before he had joined the Continental army John had nearly forgotten how nice it was just to be near someone, and be perfectly wrapped up in their affections. Now, once he had remembered, he was on another continent, and so companionless he wanted to forsake his mission and these marble halls to fly back to his lumpy bunk with Alexander curled up next to him.

This funny little Juliet-balcony felt too small, the glittery trappings of his room too claustrophobic, and all of a sudden Laurens needed to be outside. The party could wait. He made it up the stairs and was already knocking on the door to Thomas Paine’s room before he fully realized what was happening. It took Paine rather a long time to answer. Finally, wrapped in a banyan and with slightly windblown hair, he emerged.


John nodded, “Good evening. I was just wondering if I might… I mean… I’m not feeling altogether well. I wondered if I might use your window in order to-”

“Say no more,” opening the door wider, the pamphleteer revealed a spacious room, just as glittering and glamourous as John’s own, but with a book perched like a bird on every available flat surface. “You do look a bit pale,” Paine muttered, “Is it your shoulder again?”

“Not so much,” John let himself be led to the window, which Paine pushed open upon a fairly steep expanse of roof observing the gardens. He hopped onto the sill, then the roof, and slid down a few tiles before reclining against the slope. Laurens did the same.

“A fine night, is it not?” Paine asked.

“I’m sure it is,” John felt like an observer. He’d left his heart in America, after all.

“Though not, it seems, for dinner parties.” Paine raised an eyebrow, and then smiled. “Not to worry, I’m not attending either. There are only so many times a man can hear ‘yes, but is General Washington as tall as they say, monsieur,’ before a little rest is needed. Are you feeling somewhat better?”

“Just a little homesick, I suppose.” Paine needn’t know that ‘home’ wasn’t America per se, it was Alexander.

“Even for the war?”

“My friends are in the war.”

“Mm, mine too,” Paine leaned his head back against the tiles. “But you must remember that we are here in order to bring them aid, and that is no less helpful than what we could do at home.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” John muttered. “It doesn’t feel right to be a curiosity here when I should be fighting at home.”

Thomas Paine breathed a small laugh. “It need not be dangerous to be helpful.” He paused. “I write pamphlets,” he said, “And that is hardly dangerous at all unless I cut my finger on the edge of a paper or someone shouts ‘it’s that dunce who wrote Common Sense’ in the street. One of the greater dangers in my entire career was that iceberg we were nearly acquainted with on our journey here! But that does not mean that my addition, in my own way, to the revolution has been in vain. It has just been different.” He sighed, “Part of me wonders whether you put yourself in danger solely for your country, or also for your own reasons.”

John bit his lip. There were many reasons he went into danger. Yes, for his country, but also to prove his own honour, and because he felt guilty… not going into danger. He wasn’t sure how that made sense. Everything had always been given to him, his whole life. If he did not make any sacrifices, or try to live up to all that had been given to him, how was he any better than the men he was fighting against, who thought they could subjugate his country simply because they were lords?

Alexander would say that was foolish. He had had to live through his own fair share of being told to stay out of danger and use his wits instead. But Alexander was not here and everything was confused without him.

“I… I don’t know,” said Laurens. “I wish Hamilton were here.”

Paine nodded. “True. He always knows what to say. But that’s why Washington needs him in America. We all play our parts, Laurens.”

“So you’re saying I ought to go to the party?”

“Not at all! I’m saying that you ought to get a decent night of rest, and then approach His Highness again with your proposition. Something must get him to listen, and I feel it will be you.”

John sat up, and then laid a hand on his sword. If he must be dramatic, he would, for even if America lost the war he would be drawing his sword against the French anyways as a British subject once again. He would make them listen.

Looking up at the stars once more, perhaps hoping for a lesson in foresight, he bid Paine goodnight and returned to his room. Not to worry Alexander, I’ll be home soon.

stratataisen replied to your post:stratataisen replied to your post:Bruce vs…

!@#@#$@!@@#$%$%%!!!!!!!! *dies* I can’t tell if I want to hug you or hit you right now. lol Great job, can’t wait to see if you ever write Hal coming back. XD

i’m invested in this now leT’S PILE ON THE ANGST OOOOOOHHHHHH

Hal didn’t come back to Earth for three weeks after the fight with Sinestro. He couldn’t face it. He couldn’t face Bruce

They had never had a chance to talk about Hal’s past, not thoroughly. Bruce’s sexual history was pretty much a no-go area but that didn’t bother him. He didn’t have any evil alien exes that Hal had to be made aware of. 

But Hal did.

Keep reading

Prepare Yourself >> Hongbin

This was requested by myungtive (I hope that what you wanted ^^) 


Smiles and laughter filled the karaoke room. It was your school reunion and you were happy that you got to see your classmates and friends again.

“We missed you Y/N” You laughed when one of your classmates said.

“I missed you too guys”

“How come you became more and more beautiful?” Another classmate of you said and you laughed hard. It made you embarrassed and the only way to cover your embarrassment was laughing and it was your habit.

“Thank you John. You’re making me feel shy” you put your hands over you cheeks as they laughed at your action.

That’s when you felt someone poking your arm. You turned to see, Hongbin, your boyfriend’s expression wasn’t good at all, you hit yourself mentally that you almost forgot about him being with you.

“Let’s leave.” He whispered in your ears as you leaned your head closer to him.

You snapped your head to his direction and hissed “Wae?!” You really didn’t want to leave now. You missed your friends and your classmates too much to leave now.

“I’m not feeling well.” Hongbin said, you knew that he didn’t want to come at the first place but you begged him. You wanted to show your boyfriend to your friends as they kept asking you about his look, about his personality, etc. that was why you brought him with you. You pouted and warped your arms around his. “Can’t we stay more? Just ten minutes and then we will leave okay. Please… Please… okay?”


Keep reading

Loving from a distance -Fem!Phan-

Summary: Fem!Phan. Phil and Dan are in a long distance relationship and have never met before. They long to met each other but can’t because of their age gap and homophobic families. Their relationship can be kept alive online but that doesn’t stop the urge to see each other.

Genre: Fluff, Smut and a little bit of sadness

AN: So yeah I decided to write some Fem!Phan because I really wanted to and definitelythor’s new fem!phan fic kinda motivated me to finally do it. This has a little bit of sadness but is mostly fluff and smut. Are you proud of my guys? I wrote smut. This took for ages so please be nice.

Word count: 6721

Her tired brown eyes scanned over the screen as she attempted to stifle a small yawn. It was just past three in the morning and Dan was beyond tired. But of course, she couldn’t just go to sleep. No, instead she had to stay up because of the stupid time difference between her and America. It’s not that she minded staying up. Most nights she’d stay up all night, not caring if she was too tired to go to school. Her ‘special friend’ -or so Dan’s parents called her- was much more important than some building where Dan was supposed to go to learn, but instead was just pissed off by assholes for six hours of the day. But after a long day of being forced to socialise with people she really didn’t like, Dan was tired and fed up. She felt a little better just talking to Phil, but still not wanting to resist the urge to sleep off this foul mood. Phil always made Dan feel better. Just a simple message simply containing the word hi was enough to make Dan at least smile. Phil, was what you’d call Dan’s world. She meant more to Dan than anything else. So even as much as Dan loved sleep, Phil came first. Phil always came first in front of everything, and everyone for that matter. In front of friends, family, school. Everything as a waste of time when compared to Phil. To sum it up in a few words-

Dan adored Phil.

Keep reading

Just A Dream (Part 6)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

to the anon who complimented me in Romanian: that was kinda hot

(more notes on why i won’t singularly post that anon asks/why i won’t publicly post many asks at all at the bottom)

Word Count: 966

Warnings: lil nsfw at the end, like a millisecond (literally ends as fast as it starts)

Originally posted by winterfellcobain

Keep reading