if anyone is feeling wealthy and generous i would love one of these!!!

thetwolattes  asked:

Hi! I want to recommend a historical fic titled Blackbird by sixpence on AO3. It's a WW2 story that is thoroughly researched. I want to ask if you have any recommendation on any other well-researched historical fanfiction? Thank you!

Hi! Thanks for these requests (and the rec)! I have a few historical fics up my sleeve, hopefully these fit what you’re asking! 

(I’ve made royalty AU, so this will be everything but royalty! ☺️ You can find my royalty AU list here!)

Originally posted by ryokho


Historical AU


Blackbird by sixpences, Mature, 24k (WIP)
Captain Victor Nikiforov, an intelligence operative for the NKVD, has been trapped in Berlin by the German invasion of the USSR. Posing as a Nazi industrialist, his days are spent charming information out of Axis diplomats to try and keep the Red Army fighting another day. Yuuri Katsuki, a foreign-educated bureaucrat in the Japanese Embassy, has secrets of his own concealed beneath his unremarkable demeanour. When he uncovers Victor’s real identity, it will alter the course of both of their lives forever. WWII AU! This fic is so amazing!!!!

Masks off by emulikule, Teen, 27k
And so the story goes that a playboy comes to a town, makes it fall in love with him and then proceeds to get himself enticed by the most mysterious person there. Late-19th century AU! One of my favourites, thumbs up!

For The Sake of You by anglmukhii, Explicit, 4.9k
He was a dancer. And Victor was the Emperor. There would always be a thick boundary that separated them. And no matter how hard Victor tried to erase it, it would always be there. Victor, however, doesn’t see it that way. Byzantine Empire time period AU! SO good!

the death of a bachelor by exile_wrath, Teen, 9.1k (WIP)
In which Yuuri is a bartender with a thing for the hot patron which could probably kill him but also wants to have sex with him. To be fair, Yuuri is pretty down to sleep with him too. 1920s mafia AU! OMG!

Healthy Impropriety by mtothedestiel, Explicit, 29k
Victor is the wealthy master of the Nikiforov estate. At a society party he’s swept off his feet by the mysterious, suave, and very drunk Katsuki Yuuri. Victor aims to declare his love and secure Mr. Katsuki’s hand in marriage, but first he has to find him! THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVE FICS EVER

what remains of the dance by dyules, Gen, 1.6k
Viktor Nikiforov, head butler of Feltsman Court, falls in love with the visiting young viscount’s new dancing master. Victorian AU!

Casablanca on Ice by richardnixon, Teen, 6.4k (WIP)
It’s the middle of WWII in Casablanca, Morocco. An American expatriate, Victor, makes a generous living for himself as a nightclub owner, and everything changes one night when his ex-flame Yuri walks into his club. LOVE!

The crane and the swan by mintyrosetea, Mature, 29k (WIP)
March 1959: FIGURE SKATING WORLD CHAMPION Viktor NIKIFOROV from U.S.S.R. completed his short program yesterday with a very good score of 92.2. After the program, the Soviet skater was assisted in taking on his skate covers by the Japanese skater Yuuri KATSUKI before the latter stepped onto the ice for his program. WOW THIS IS AMAZING!

Welcome Aboard Eros, Commander by IdunAurora, Teen, 5.7k
Commander Nikiforov is frustrated. For years, he has been chasing Eros, the most elusive pirate ship to ever sail the Seven Seas, and its even more elusive captain, whom it appears no one has ever been able to lay their eyes on. Awesome pirate AU!

Love in Exile by MartyMuses, Not Rated, 21k (WIP)
Once a well know ballet dancer in St. Petersburg, Victor Nikiforov finds himself exiled to Sakhalin Island as a political convict in 1881. Strange circumstances lead his path to cross that of a young Japanese man, one of the very few still living on the island.

A Many-Splendored Thing by FilletteRevolutionnaire, Teen, 1.3k (WIP)
Star dancer Victor Nikiforov of the Paris Opera Ballet, on top of the world and looking for a new challenge, is looking for a protege. He makes a bet with a colleague that he could turn anyone into a sensation – even someone as meek and unremarkable as that quiet young man with the Japanese performers. Late 19th century AU! Love it!

Blame Phichit by whydoyouask, Mature, 1k
Victor and Yuuri, both well known athletes, meet in a symposium a night before the olympics. Things happen that neither of them regret -even though Chris was present. What will happen when they compete against each other the next day? Ancient Greece AU! LOL THIS IS GREAT AHHAHAH

Death of a Bachelor by HQ_Wingster, Teen, 10k (WIP)
What if Yuuri and Viktor had met before in a past life? When they meet in the present, the past feelings fall upon their hearts. WWII to present day fic!

Political Animals-Part 5

This is an A/B/O AU.  You are the Omega artist daughter of Naomi Novak, a world-class heart surgeon who is running  for Mayor of New York City.  After a meeting where your mother’s advisors call you a “liability”, she tells you that if you don’t do as your told she will cut you off.  You storm out and wind up in a bar a few blocks away.

The hottest Alpha you have EVER laid eyes on with a scent so mouthwatering you’re practically drooling offers to buy you a drink.  It’s just a drink, right? What do you have to lose? Only everything.

Characters: Omega! Reader, Beta! Naomi Novak, Alpha! Castiel Novak, Omega! Meg Novak, Claire Novak, Jimmy Novak, Alpha! Sam Winchester, Alpha! Dean Winchester, Alpha! John Winchester, Omega! Jo Harvelle

Big thanks to @moansmisha  for letting me use some of her ideas from this post

FYI: The words in bold are texts

Master List

Part 1 (all parts are linked)

I should have known when Cas asked me to meet him for lunch at my favorite Thai restaurant that he was trying to bribe me.  He HATED Thai food.

“So next Friday is a fundraiser to benefit the Met.  It’s black tie.  Mom wants us all to go.  She says everyone who is anyone will be there, including a few wealthy patrons she is hoping will donate to her campaign.  Will you go?”  He looked worried.

I sighed.  “Why does she always send you to do her dirty work, Cas? It’s really not fair to you to be put in the middle of this mess with us.”

He grinned at me. “Mom’s a smart woman.  She knows you won’t say no to your big brother.  So are you in?  You can even bring a date if you want.”

I thought of Sam who I’d secretly seeing behind everyone’s back. “Fine, I’ll go.”

“Mom said she would buy you a dress.  Will you be bringing someone?”  Cas asked uncomfortably.

I rolled my eyes at him. “I can buy my own damn dress, Cas! You’re not fooling me for a second.  That is just Mom’s way of trying to control what I wear.  And I’l be coming alone. I wouldn’t subject anyone to this train wreck.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Y/N.” Cas said with a smirk.

“I can’t wait until this damn election is over!” I told him with an exhausted groan.

He raised an eyebrow at me.  “But what if Mom wins?”

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WHAT IF? SIMS MEME

I was tagged to do the What If? - Sims OC Meme Thingey by @justkeeponsimming and @wannabecatwriter. Thank you! I chose Roy, because he’s been in my head so much lately. Not gonna lie, this took me forever, but only because I tend to overthink things so much when it comes to my Sims. Also if some of the replies seem a little brusque it’s because I was channelling Roy, who prides himself on being pragmatic and a realist, and is NOT a reflection on the excellent questions! I tag @nernershuman @holleyberry @twinsimskeletons @ktarsims @thenakedsim @blackcatsims and @dandylion240. Under the cut because looooonnnnng ;=)

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Résumé

For some reason Madison had thought things would go slower. He and Jefferson would go out a few times, Jefferson would eventually make a move–because Madison sure wasn’t going to do it–and things would progress from there. Instead, within days of Jefferson’s arrival, the night after their one absolute failure of a date, they had slept in the same bed. Madison couldn’t say he didn’t like it. It had been years since he’d shared a bed with someone. He’d forgotten how warm another person could be, and this instance of bed-sharing was necessarily far more intimate. He’d let Jefferson down easy on the issue of having sex any time soon, and while Jefferson hadn’t fought him on it, with Jefferson pressed against his back there was no hiding that he’d been looking forward to it.

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High School Never Ends

A/N: So I watched ‘Ten Inch Hero’ over the weekend and I’m so in love with the movie like I honest to god think it’s one of my faves. Loved all the characters and of course Jensen’s character: Priestly. So I had … please forgive me… Part 1 of this series lol

Priestly x Reader

Warnings: None I dont think… Triggers for Emotional Abuse (Maybe?) 

Word Count: 1173

Priestly watched as you smiled along with the girls from the shop. Watched as you tucked your hair behind your ear and mindlessly biting the edge of the pen as you listened to Trucker go on about something he hadn’t bothered to pay attention to.

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All I Want For Christmas Is You

The familiar tune of a holiday classic sounds softly over the din of the room filled with people chattering animatedly to each other about the nearing holiday season. Although Lena disliked the holidays, she found herself in awe of the effort that went into the decoration of the building. Beautiful balsam wreaths were wrapped intricately around the pillars throughout the space, the pleasant albeit sharp smell of cinnamon permeated the air, and in the back of the room was a large, pulchritudinous pine tree adorned with thousands of shining lights, shimmering red tinsel, and a plethora of ornaments of various shapes and sizes. It looked like a scene from one of those Hallmark movies that played on television every year.

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Prince Charming

Harry knew that what he was doing was against everything his father had taught him. He wasn’t supposed to fall in love peasants, he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with boys and he certainly wasn’t supposed to fall in love with a peasant boy. 

But, Harry wasn’t ever one to follow the rules. 

He jumps off of Zander, his beloved and extremely loyal horse, patting his nose lovingly before tying his lead to the familiar pole outside the worn down blacksmith’s building. 

He saunters up to the building confidently, completely aware of the several pairs of eyes glued to his form. He’s the big, broad prince, after all, and he’s known for spending a good amount of time in the village. Despite how much time he spent in the village beyond the castle gates, people still seemed to get a bit star struck every time the dashing prince waltzed through the town.

“Hey Bobby,” Harry greeted as he walked into the sweaty, hot home. The town’s blacksmith, Bobby, looks up in surprise, placing the mallet in his hand back onto the table before giving Harry a little bow along with a smile.

“Prince Harry!” He says politely, the foreign, Irish lit warming Harry’s ears. The older man gives the prince a knowing, suspicious look. “Here for a new sword… or for my son?” He asks and Harry blushes, hard, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. 

“I think you know the answer to that one.” He answers sheepishly and Bobby laughs lowly. 

The greying, wrinkled man gives Harry an unimpressed look, chuckling nonetheless. “He’s out back, like usual.” 

Harry nods in thanks, and rushes out the back door like a maniac, not bothering even to thank to older man. He can’t help it. He hadn’t been able to see his perfect, blonde beauty since the week before, and he wasn’t going to pretend like he wasn’t dying to see the boy. 

“Out back,” for the blacksmith’s home was actually just a large cluster of woods, but Harry knew where to go. He pushed through branches and roots, following the somewhat cleared path that led exactly to where Harry needed to be. 

He can see it now, the bright light that signifies the end of his trek. The trees thin out and suddenly, he’s there.

The sun is nearly blinding after his journey through the covered woods, but it’s much warmer and much calmer than it is in the somewhat bleak country village. There are flowers everywhere, to the point that Harry knows that this area is nearly untouched by man, otherwise all of the flowers would’ve been taken and sold by now. 

Harry sighs in content as he leans against a large tree, watching on as the boy of his affection begins weaving some flower stems together. The prince saunters through the meadow quietly, prowling like a preying animal, stopping just a short distance from the blonde before tackling him from behind, resulting in a loud high-pitched squeal.

“Got-cha, Ni!” Harry chuckles lowly, kissing Niall’s cheek sloppily as he continues cuddling Niall from behind tightly. Once he got over the initial shock, Niall begins giggling as well, hitting Harry’s chest playfully as he attempts to sit up on his own, but the brunette doesn’t allow it. He continues hugging the Irish boy lovingly, making obscenely cute noises as he does so. 

Eventually, the blonde is released from Harry’s unrelenting hold. “Hazzy.” He mumbles happily as he finally looks the brunette in the eyes. He brings his significantly smaller arms to hold Harry close around his neck. “I missed you.” He says lowly and Harry nods in agreement. 

“Me too.” He says and Niall tilts his head, like he’s surprised, but the grin doesn’t stop. It never does with Niall. 

Niall is Harry’s sunshine, he’s his reason for living, the reason there’s light during the day and the reason why the moon still shines at night. 

For Harry, nothing matters unless it relates to Niall.

Sure, he cares about learning how to properly lead his people and he cares that one day he’ll become king. He cares about those things– but he’d give it all up if it meant he could have Niall. 

He knew his father meant well when he attempted to force Harry into submission– force Harry into the idea that the prince would have to end up marrying a princess, or at least a girl. He needed to somehow get a heir, someone to take over the throne just like his father did. But what his father didn’t know was that Harry would rather give up a thousand pounds of gold, a thousand princesses, and, more importantly, a thousand thrones before he’d even think about giving up Niall. And even then, he’d never actually give up the blonde boy. 

Harry sighs once more, pulling Niall into his lap and digging his nose into the blonde’s neck as he teases his fingers above the hem of Niall’s tunic. The blonde pays him no mind, sitting in between Harry’s legs like it was what he was made for, continuing to braid the flowers’ stems through one another. 

The sun begins to fade behind the trees and both of the boys ignore it, knowing what the coming night entails. Niall’s made 4 crowns ringed with grass and flowers alike, but it feels as if they’ve only been together for a few minutes. There were few words spoken, but there really didn’t need to be. They had already said everything out loud, at this point they just enjoyed being in each other’s presence. 

The sun finally sets and as much as Harry would love to stay here forever, he can feel the wind begin to chill and the moment he feels Niall shiver, he’s sitting up, bringing the blonde with him. “We gotta go, Ni.” He says regretfully. “Can’t have you getting sick again.” He says, referencing to the time the two boys had fallen asleep together out in the fields, only to wake up to snow all around them, and a horrific case of pneumonia. Niall had spent 3 weeks in the castle’s infirmary, Bobby had punched Harry in the nose, and the prince would never forgive himself. 

Niall looks at the darkening sky, then at Harry’s barely visible face and nods sadly, understanding Harry’s sentiment. 

They walk through the woods, hand in hand. Under normal conditions, Niall would be walking quickly-paced, head down and flinching at every snap and click that resounded through the trees, but he was with Harry now. When he was with Harry, everything was all safe and protected and perfect. They walk slow, chatting lightly about what Harry’s been so busy with in the castle. Niall listens as Harry complains about his high placement in society, which, from anyone else would sound pretentious and petty and ungrateful, but from Harry it just sounded genuine and sad. 

Niall knew that the brunette wished he was born a plain peasant. Because it didn’t matter who a peasant married. Niall and Harry would be happily married with at least two dogs, living in the middle of a giant flower-farm and maybe a few kids too. They wouldn’t be living large, probably just barely scrapping by, but they would be happy.

That’s all Harry wanted. 

But, his responsibility was to become king, and (in his father’s dreams) marry a wealthy, important princess, and have many strong little boys that would rally an extremely benevolent and generous kingdom. Little did his father know (or, actually, his father probably knew all too well), Harry would definitely not be marrying a princess, let alone a woman. He may have to become king, but he would rely on Gemma, his sister, to use as heirs. After all, the bloodline will continue, so there’s not much to worry about.

The two boys arrive back at the blacksmith’s all too quickly,  but Harry doesn’t bother dilly-dallying, bringing Niall into the warmth of the boy’s own home.


Bobby hollers a “Hello boys!” from somewhere upstairs and Harry can sense the distinct smell of porridge and Harry gives Niall a disappointed look. 

“Ni… you guys can’t survive off of bread and porridge.” Harry protests to which Niall scoffs.

“Everyone else around here does just fine, Haz. We’re doing fine.” The blonde says sharply and Harry gives him a hard-pressed look. Looking away for a moment, Harry fishes through his pocket and grabs a decently sized bag of coins. “Harry no!” Niall says loudly, different from his usual soft lit. He grabs at Harry’s wrist, holding onto the arm that’s grasping the bag in a sharp grip. “We don’t need your money. You do enough for us– for me.” He says, looking uncomfortable and Harry presses his free hand against Niall’s cheek. 

“Love, I’m not just giving you money. Bobby! D’ya think you could make me a new sword?” He shoots up towards the ladder that leads upstairs.

Bobby peaks his head through the make-shift hole in the ceiling, absolutely beaming. “I think I can do that, laddie, nice and silver, like the usual?” He asks and Harry nods, grin matching the older man’s. 

“You know how I like ‘em, Bobby.” He returns and Niall huffs, rolling his eyes.

“I swear, between the two of you, I’ll never win.” He says and Harry smiles, kissing Niall’s cheek once more, dropping the bag into the large chest near the back door.

Niall walks Harry to the front door and Harry stops before leaving. “I’ll be back soon, maybe even the day after tomorrow, yeah? Would say tomorrow, but I’ve got my final exam tomorrow.” He explains and Niall smiles sultrily back.

“What, you aren’t going to make me wait another fortnight to see my dashing prince?” He teases, holding Harry close by his tunic. “Of course, I can’t wait to see you again.” The blonde rectifies before Harry can protest. “And good luck tomorrow, I know you’ll do famously. Kick their arses.” He says, and Harry puckers his lips slightly and Niall takes the memo, muttering, “Only for good luck,” before smashing his soft, pink lips against Harry’s.

 The kiss kind of how the ladies in their village kiss their husbands when they come back from war. There’s a lot of emotion and feeling that’s completely masked by the overpowering amount of passion that’s brewing within them both. Never sure of when they’ll see each other again, not sure if they’ll be able to feel like this and be like this with one another for much longer. 

Harry pulls away, pressing his forehead against the blonde before walking out he door, looking back a couple of times to see Niall peeking through the door’s small hole, bright eyes gleaming through the dark air around him.

With one last salute, and a tiny wink, Harry and Zander return to the castle. 

* * * *

He got a lot of shit when he came home. 

Not only did he have Gemma, his sister and somewhat confidante, teasing him mercilessly about the bright red flush on his cheeks (which he said was due to the windy ride home), but he also had to deal with his father’s wrath. 

“You were out with that boy again, hm?” He asks as the family sits for dinner. Most days, they have several guests, whether it be dukes and duchesses from friendly nations or just advisors and other important people around the castle, but tonight, the castle was empty, and so was their banquet table. 

Harry’s mother gives him a dirty look while Gemma snickers, but Harry shakes it off. “I was with Niall, if that’s who you’re talking about.” He answers, refusing to look the man in the eyes. 

“Right. Niall.” The king repeats slowly, as if he was mulling the word over in his head as he spoke it. “Strong name. Irish name.” He comments and Harry hums in gratitude.

“Yeah, he’s got the best accent. Love it.” He shoots back, to which he gets a bewildered look that he ignores. 

The king and queen know of Harry’s sexuality. They know of his refusal to marry anyone other than Niall, but they usually get pretty squeamish and uncomfortable whenever Harry brings out the “L” word. 

“Thinking about proposing.” He adds, trying his hardest not to laugh as his father does a full-on spit take, shooting his wine down his much-too-expensive fur-lined coat. Gemma doesn’t even bother trying, busting out into full-fledged laughs at his father’s confused and terrified look.

Harry’s mother, on the other hand, looks elated. Stars in her eyes as she gazes at Harry proudly, hands crossed in front of her tightly, toying with her own ring happily. 

“Excuse me?” His father asks, to which Harry’s mother smacks him.
“Oh, Harry!” She says, clapping her hands and getting up to embrace her son. “I’m so excited for you. When? When will you do it? Do you need help picking out a ring? Have you asked his family? Will he be okay leaving them behind?” She rambles and Harry laughs lowly.

“Um, maybe later, mom?” He suggests, hugging her back tightly and heart lightening as he see’s the tears in her eyes. 

She laughs at herself as well. “Oh, of course. I’m just so excited.” The queen murmurs, walking back to her seat where her husband still looks dumbstruck.
He doesn’t ask his father for his opinion, and his father doesn’t offer one.

* * * *

Two days later, Harry is the certified commander-in-chief of the knights and also the proud owner of a custom made engagement ring. 

It’s silver and shiny, all plain except for the one, golden, diamond-encrusted flower that’s been delicately placed atop the gleaming band. He keeps it close, stuck in his pocket as he rides Zander to the usual spot. As he rides, he tries to think of a speech, of an explanation or a way to properly ask both Niall and his father. 

He’s not terribly frightened that Niall will say no, because he’s positive that Niall’s in love with him, but there’s always the fear of rejection. 

The ride feels so much shorter than it normally does and soon enough, he hears Bobby yelling at him that Niall’s still “out back” but Harry shakes his head. “I’m not here for him… well, not yet, at least.” He says shakily and Bobby gives him an understanding look.

“Oh, eh, well, Sorry, Harry, I haven’t even started your sword yet. You didn’t give me a timeline so…” He trails off awkwardly and Harry rushes to placate him.

“No!” He shouts unintentionally. “I mean… no. Sorry. It’s just… I’m here for something else.” 

Booby gives him a confused look just a second before realization covers his face. “Ahhh… so the time has come.” He says and Harry wants to slap himself for thinking this would be a surprise to Bobby. “Look, Harry, I don’t need to hear promises about you being able to take care of my boy, alright? I just want to see him, at least twice a week, and I want confirmation that he won’t get any shit from your family or their uppity little friends… no offense, your highness.” Bobby remarks, completely blatant and a tad bit rude but Harry can’t help but smile. 

“Does that mean I have your blessing?” He asks, stupid grin still spread wide on his face. 

Bobby rolls his blue eyes, looking too much like his much younger son in that moment. “Of course, son.”

Harry doesn’t bother trying to hold himself back from hugging the older man with all of his might

And later, if anyone were to stumble across the meadow at that precise time, as the sun was just beginning to dip below the tall evergreen trees, they’d see a silhouette of a curly haired boy, amongst the rainbow spectrum of flowers, down on one knee, along with a much shorter boy crying, then nodding, then jumping into the curly haired boy’s arms. 

Niall comes home that night wearing a ring that cost more than his entire villages year’s earnings combined.

* * * *

Two weeks later, Harry’s forced to attend some rich person’s step-daughter’s birthday party.

It’s boring and everyone’s in stuffy suits and poofy dresses. There’s clear line down the center of the room, where on one side there are adults, and the other there are the younger kids. Harry knows he’s supposed to be with the younger kids, but he really couldn’t be bothered to deal with the horny, anxious, and annoying “young adults” that were swarming this party. 


He was stuck in the middle of some party that he definitely did not want to be at, watching on as boys and girls his age mingled and talked and danced, rolling his eyes and huffing in the corner because he knew why his father made him come here. He saw the plethora of rich, famous, and wealthy kids that were here and was immediately turned off. This was one of the most obviously set-up, singles “mixer” type of parties that he’s ever seen. It’s like in Cinderella, how Prince Charming’s father has all of the single women of a certain age meet up so he can figure out which one is right for him… only it’s like everyone’s trying to get their kid hooked up with someone else. 


Parents are talking together in grouped circles, “subtly” looking over to see which couples are getting together. 


Harry’s seen several parents urge their daughters to come over to Harry, but he’s usually able to scare them off before they even get close. By either glaring them down from their spots or by giving them an unimpressed once over before rolling his eyes and looking away. 

He was dead set on having an awful time, drinking some kind of wine and rolling his eyes at ever person who tried making eye contact with him, until he felt one of his butler’s grab his arm urgently, whispering, “Your kingdom is under attack.”

* * * *

Harry panics. 

There’s only one person in the world that he really, truly cares about and that person is in the village. He doesn’t take his fathers yells or his mothers agonizing screams as he jumps back onto Zander, slashes the lead with his sword and kicks deep into the horses side, forcing him to speed into the opposite direction of the castle. 

He gets there much quicker than anticipated. 

But the prince wasn’t near ready for what he rode into. The village was desolated, absolutely destroyed. Buildings were burning, livestock and children alike were squealing and crying as bludgeoned bodies twitched lifelessly on the mud-soaked or maybe it was bloody, Harry couldn’t properly tell– roads. 

Harry shields his eyes, not wanting to take into consideration the fact that this was his fault. Maybe not completely, but wasn’t it his families job to protect their people? 

He gets off of Zander as quickly as he possibly can the second the blacksmith’s building is in sight. He forgoes any knocking and holds his breath as he walks through the suddenly doorless threshold. 

There’s nobody in sight. 

The swords, the mallets, and the silver were all gone, looted or stolen, and completely gone. 

There was no evidence of a struggle or a fight of any sort, and Harry was at least grateful for that. “Niall?” He calls, desperately. “Bobby!” He tries, but there is still no response. 

With an aggravated, terrified cry, Harry sweeps a hand through his too long hair and takes off, out the back door and down the familiar path through the woods.

He’s running this time, different from the usual casual stroll he often takes down this path.

Harry makes it through the overpass, and instantly falls to his knees as his eyes adjust to the sight before him.

Gone. 

The meadow he had met Niall in, the meadow they fell in love in, the meadow he proposed to Niall in… gone.

Burned to the dirt. All that was left was small patches of dead grass and weeds. Harry’s eyes burn, along with the meadow, tears pooling in his eyes as he calls out in a last ditch effort, “Niall?” 

Silence settles across the decimated land and Harry’s heart begins to beat uncontrollably. No no no no. 

It’s possible that Niall skipped town with the majority of the villagers. It’s possible. He could be alive. 

He could also be dead. 

“Ni, baby, please.” Harry begs, voice breaking as he attempts in a last ditch effort to save his own heart from splitting in two. 

“H-Hazzy?” A quiet, muffled voice whispers from the opposite side of the woods. Harry’s head snaps up, standing quickly and scanning the perimeter, praying that his ears hadn’t just deceived him. 

There’s a flash of blonde, disheveled hair and a quiet whimper and suddenly Harry has a heap of tiny, teary Niall in his arms. Automatically Harry tightens his grip around the boy lovingly, but this is much more intense. The breath leaves his body in a harsh huff, and he pushes the dirtied, greasy blonde head of hair deeper into his neck. 

“Ni, Ni,” He mutters like a prayer, “We have to get out of here, I have to get you to safety, alright?” He asks and the blonde pulls away, nodding before wiping as his wet eyes. 

Harry wastes no time, picking the blonde up against his chest like he weighed nothing (because really, he did), and running back the way he came. 

Zander is still where Harry left him, thankfully, and Harry aids Niall, heaving him up onto the big horse’s back before sitting directly behind the blonde, wrapping his larger arms around him and kicking Zander off, back towards the castle, leaving behind the abandoned village. 

* * * *

When they get back to the castle, most people have cleared out. There’s little remnants of the party, but Harry can’t deal with them while he has a shivering, ill-ness prone lover clinging to his side. He pays no mind to the multitudes of people staring him down as he orders his maids to get blankets. He catches his mother’s eyes for a fleeting moment, watching as her eyes grow in concern at the sight of the boys in front of her but he quickly turns away and rushes to his corridor, knowing Niall would murder him if this was the first impression his mother got. 

He gets Niall into his bedroom and lays him on the bed, covering him with the large duvet and allowing the maids to pile on the blankets before they all shuffle out of the room awkwardly. 

Harry shucks off his shoes and shirt, getting into bed with his finance, holding the blonde close, whispering, “I’m so sorry, Ni, everything’s going to be okay.” He promises, rubbing soothing circles into the shivering boy’s back.

“I love you.” Niall whispers, tears in his eyes, and Harry knows he’s scared. Scared for the village, for their relationship, for Bobby, wherever the bastard is. 

Harry is too.

“I love you.” Harry returns. “I swear to you, Niall. The knights are out as we speak, searching and rescuing as well as finding the bad guys. We won’t let this kind of thing happen again, I swear. We’ll get Bobby, we’ll get everyone and then you and I, we’ll get married. It’ll be great.” Harry rambles on, feeling a bit like his mother but Niall just nods in correspondence. 

The blonde stares at the brunette, unable to get his words out properly. 

But he kisses him, and even though there are some tears, a little bit of hurt there, the message of gets through pretty clearly.

i’m feeling super sick cause i have strep throat and i’m so stressed out about school rn and i’m taking my first ever sat on saturday so i think i’m falling apart but that’s alright! thanks for all the well wishes, it really means a lot!

Thanks for reading, I really enjoyed this one, despite how shitty I felt while writing it. Short and sweet, yeah? :)

Prompts are open! I do any Niall centric OTP, OT3, OT4, and OT5! You can see my previous writings here and my master post here. 

Antisocialite

+ Robbie Kay x FamousReader

Prompt | Request: “Reader is a celebrity and donates money in a auction gallery and ends up winning a date with a certain famous boy.”


I have terrible anxiety at social events like these. They’re incompetent, useless and all that happens is gossip, gossip, and oh, Miss, did you get that new bag from that new designer?

I love fashion but despise the people in it who claim to be “all about it”. Yes, you buy a random, expensive handbag with your wealthy husband’s credit card and go out to some shit- over-charged restaurant with your other housewife friends– and you claim that you’re all about fashion?

Another dreadfully somber Galla event, with “all-white” outfits and those few people who decide to be bold and not wear white. Oh, but this is different! This is a charity event. Same concept, but some wealthy snobs here are actually here to compete against their patrons and help cases.

“Act like you actually want to be here, Y/N.” My manager, Eric, scolds me, glaring at me with a gaze that burns through me.

“I am.” I childishly reply to him. Besides, he’s the one who always sets me up at these damn events. All I’m actually interested for here is donating money to the charity events. My sister is the socialite in the family, not me.

“Shush, they’re starting the charity announcements.” Eric once more ignores my comment and waves me off. He places a hand under his chin and looks intently at the stage where some guy is blabbing on about some cause he has no clue about.

“The bids starts at one thousand dollars, winning a date with the beautifully talented and gorgeous: Perrie Edwards.” The man winks over at Perrie, causing her to blush.

Men who have nothing else to do with their overflowing pockets of cash battle off for a date with Perrie, whom I now pity for this reason. The men don’t even care about the cause, all they want is Perrie’s time and to get in her pants. Okay, it is possible I may be too honest in my own time.

“The charity case for UNICEF goes to Robert Pattinson for ten million dollars!” The new hostess announces as she takes over the next bid, clapping to begin the round of applause.

“And next! This is a good one, single ladies!” The hostess giggles, causing all the snobby single women in the room to laugh along with her. I simply roll my eyes and cross my arms.

“Y/N, that’s not ladylike.” Eric scolds once more. I turn to him with a bored expression and put my left leg over my right leg.

Your face is not ladylike. You’re very unattractive, but you don’t see me scolding you for being cursed with the uglies. But oh, the things I wish I can fire back at Eric, I never really say. 


“Put a sock in it, would you?” I simply mutter before turning back around to pay attention to the hostess announcing the next case.

“For the Fountain of Wishes Charity, in which the highest bidder will bid their money to the children’s hospital and grant each ill patient a wish.” Being someone who lost a loved one to a hellish disease whom never got the chance to truly live their life, I become intrigued.

“For all the single ladies, your date will be with one of our lovely patrons who has been generous enough to volunteer. They’ll know you, but you won’t know who they are. A free mystery date, sponsored and brought to you by Le Spot Alimentaire! A wonderful French cuisine restaurant.” The girl gets on with the charity.

“One thousand dollars!”

“Two thousand dollars!”

“Five thousand dollars.”

“Seven thousand dollars!”

“Fifty thousand dollars!”

“Bloody hell, this is getting ridiculous.” I snap, causing Eric to knit his eyebrows in confusion. I snatch my little sign and stand tall. He’s always encouraging me to spend a some money on a good cause, so here I am.

“Twenty-two million dollars. I can write a check upfront right now.” I bravely put in. With my statement filling everyone’s ears, the attention all turns to me. My heart rate begins to beat fast as the room stills and the spotlight is shined upon me.

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Chloe Bourgeois

so it’s high time I do a character analysis of Chloe because I’ve been thinking about her Character a lot.

Now  we know that she is super rich, or a least decently wealthy. And we know that she’s known Adrien for a while because of connections through her father. But why is she so mean and how could someone so mean idolize someone Like Ladybug, who is almost the exact opposite personality wise. But really I want to ask what is the truth behind her actions, and why she does what she does.

Now this is just my opinion but I feel like Chloe is, in a way, like a mirror image of Adrien. Like a reverse, or how he could have turned out. They both are missing a mother, they are both the single child of a wealthy well thought of man who is held up in society for one reason or another. Both have been given the best from birth. Now this is where they start to differ. While Adrien was always given his father thought was best for him, Chloe has always been given what she thinks is best. And I think this is why I think they became so different. Adrien still gets the best stuff but only if his father allows. Chloe probably realized early on that if she threw a fit, she could get what ever she wanted. So her father, instead of dealing with her and disciplining her, simply just bent to her will and gave in. Both Mr. Agreste and Mr. Bourgeois kind of opted out of actually taking care of their kids. Mr. Agreste kept his son as busy as he was after his wife disappeared so that neither had time for one another. And that after just a year or two, that would make Adrien the restless and timid boy he is. but with Chloe, we really don’t know how long her mom has been out of the picture. Now Andrew Bourgeois is one of the only parents in the show that has some serious gray hair. For all we know, Chloe could be the daughter of some scandal with a model, or she could’ve simply just left or disappeared like Adrien’s mom. But no matter what happened, Andrew had Chloe in his older years, i’d say at around late 20′s-mid 30′s. He would’ve been in the middle of his career and he would have no idea how to handle a child on his own. So he just gives her what she wants because that’s all he knows hoe to do and he doesn’t realize that he isn’t even getting to know his daughter. But Chloe does, ad I think she feels very alone because yeah she get whatever she wants from her dad except a piece of his time.

This is where she becomes mean and bratty. She realizes that the only time anyone pays attention to her is when she throws a tantrum. The only time her dad takes time from his job for her, is when she demands something. So she is always demanding something. And why shouldn’t she get what she wants, she is the mayor’s daughter right? well that’s her justification anyway. She justifies by saying she deserves the best. But the best isn’t some designer shoes or dress, but her father’s attention. So if she can get one by demanding the other than why not? But really she’s just lonely. She even has to bribe her best friend to be her best friend with those things thats she demands. But people are looking at her, people are paying attention to her. And she’s so desperate for that attention that she dosen’t care how it makes other see her, because at least they see her. If she dosn’t act out, then she’ll be like everyone else, she’ll fade into the background and disappear. No one will look at her, no one will care. If she dosn’t throw a fit then she’ll be alone again. 

And this is why she idolizes Ladybug so much. Everyone loves Ladybug. From the moment she showed ups, Ladybug has been all anyone’s ever talked about. Ladybug is everything that Chloe wants to be. Strong, capable, kind, generous but most importantly she’s noticed. Everyone notices her. She everything that chloe longs to be but everything she afraid to be. Everything that chloe is afraid will make her invisible, makes Ladybug beloved and famous and adored. Because at one time Chloe was probably a sweet, well-behaved little girl who did as she was told but father was always too busy for her. But she was invisible to everyone because of that and now she is too afraid to be kind and quiet and behaved because she wants people too see her and she feels that she deserves to be noticed. This is why she also dislikes Chat Noir so much. Because he is just as kind and just as much of a saviour of Paris as Ladybug, but he is almost ignored in comparison to Ladybug. Chloe’s see’s herself in Chat Noir, she sees the sad little smile that’s okay with being ignored because of at least the one they loved was happy and smiling. And she hates it because she’s hate’s the possibilty of being invisible again. She fears it so much that she dosen’t even stop being rude after her cruelness has put her in physical danger because of how it has caused her to be akumatized. Becuase as much as she may fear death or getting hurt, she fears invisibilty the most. Maybe that’s why she used it on Sabrina, because she knows how much it hurts to feel invisible. So she’s mean and cruel and bratty because at least when she’s making a fuss, people are looking at her, because when she is making a fuss, she’s not invivsible.

The Deepest Blues are Black

She was the Mockingjay; the Victor everybody wanted, but no one could have - unless they were willing to pay the price.

He was the toast of the artistic world; young, and a little naive, unaware of what he was about to walk into.

He didn’t intend to love her, but he did.

She wasn’t allowed to love him, but she did.

An in-Panem AU, inspired by the film Moulin Rouge!

(Warnings: Allusions and references to prostitution)

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1/21/15

I’ve been churning this over in my mind for a while. I figured now is an appropriate time to make a post regarding being a sugar baby in high school/minor.

I work as a high school teacher at what I believe to be a great school. The male to female ratio is a bit skewed with roughly 5-7 girls in a class with 15-20 boys. I have taught freshman, juniors, and seniors. I grudgingly admit that I actually really enjoy the kids, perhaps even love. (I will deny this till I’m breathless if anyone asks) But I hold the female students with a special place in my heart. Maybe it’s because there are less girls so I get a better chance to know them. Regardless it was very unexpected. When I started teaching I anticipated that the girls would prove my greatest opposition; being “typical high school girls”, gossipy and catty towards me as I am a conventionally attractive youngish looking woman. But I experienced the antithesis of what I had expected (and I’m thrilled they are lovely dolls)! I acknowledge that the majority of my female students are “mature” for their ages relative to their male peers. The girls are quieter, polite, less hyper, almost all complete their assignments, and generally more pleasant. And I will reluctantly admit that there are a few outliers whom are physically mature for their age. Meaning that if I didn’t know them personally, it would be difficult to tell whether they were college or high school students.

But just because they are mature for their age, it does not mean they are equipped to navigate the sea of predators disguised as charming, generous, wealthy men. The men that are “attracted” to extremely young girls are actually attracted to their lack of experience. I’ve noticed many profiles on SA including phrases like, “I like younger women because they’re not cynical and jaded”. Those phrases are probably referring to women like myself who are “too jaded” to have sex with a man after a Cheese Cake Factory dinner and the promise that he will send a wire transfer/write a check/go to the atm “tomorrow”! (incase you didn’t get that, tomorrow doesn’t come) Women with more life experience (older women) are also likely better at saying NO firmly. Consider this: why do many predatory species like lions prey on young animals?

A 16, 17, 18, 19 year old girl has nothing in common with a 30, 40, 50++ year old man. Okay you both love chipotle and game of thrones. Great. A high school aged girl likely lives with her parents and probably has a curfew. A high school aged girl has a joint savings account with her parents, maybe* her own. She doesn’t have a credit card, has never lived on her own and has seen very little of the world. The things a high school girl knows are, well, high school and the things that come with it like sports, AP classes, class schedules, prom, and after graduation plans. And that great! That’s right where she’s supposed to be. There is no shame in being young. I know almost everyone wants to be older. Freshman want to be sophomores, juniors want to be seniors, seniors want to be in college, college kids want to graduate- that is until they graduate and realize there are no jobs and then they want to go back to college.

It makes me violently angry to imagine an adult man having a date with one of my students. I’m not an angry individual and it’s difficult to explain. The thought of a predator pursuing one of my students initially makes me want to vomit and after that passes I have an urge to put my hands around his throat. I don’t know, it’s like a primitive instinctual response.

My purpose is not to scold young ladies but to warn and protect them. They are no match for a calculating old man whose sole reason for contacting a young lady is manipulation. He will always have the upper hand by default because he has simply lived more and has more experience than her. A 30, 40, 50++ year old man seeking a 16, 17, 18, 19 year old lady is doing it for insidious intentions. He is a pedophile and he is exploiting her for her youth and inexperience. These men are predators and the young women the prey. I’ve been taken advantage of and I don’t want it to happen to anyone else.

To conclude I’ll leave some perspective so as not to completely come off as a “holier than thou” type. The summer before my senior year in high school I started having a sexual relationship with one of the teachers at my high school. I was 17 and thought I ‘loved’ him. He said things like, “if you were older we would be together”. It continued for ~7 months. Once it ended I never really put thought into it. A few years passed and if I thought about the affair it would be in a positive way. That the teacher “looked out” for me because I had a negative home life. The older I grew the more unsettled I became from remembering it. Had he preyed upon the fact that my parents were not around? Looking at it from that aspect I was ideal to be groomed. No parents. No curfew. No one checking up on me. I was also lonely, isolated and didn’t get a lot of attention. He was my ‘best friend’ and would do anything he wanted. -Anyway being older and a teacher myself I now realize just how inappropriate the relationship was. It’s been nearly a decade and I still feel violated and taken advantage of. I don’t want anyone to feel that way. Being violated is a weight you will likely carry the rest of your life.

Fic: Pressed Between the Pages (1/1)

Fandom: Mass Effect

Characters: Moira Callahan, the Illusive Man, Shepard

And now for something completely different.

@tetrahedrals sent a long fanmail request, a line of which will give context for this story: “My prompt is that I would like to read about Moira being a Head Bitch In Charge, either during the events of the Reaper war, her own political rise to power, or back when Cerberus was still considered edgy.” (Thank you for asking about her, tetrahedrals. Really. I was so excited to get this prompt.)

If you’re following A Handful of Dust, you’ll know something about this character. If you’re not… I will return you to your regularly scheduled non-OC Mass Effect Shakarian-goodness shortly ;D

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Pressed Between the Pages

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“A face like yours’ll take you far,” Ma said, hand firmly gripping her chin so she couldn’t look away. It hurt. She didn’t dare complain. She just held her eyes open until they burned, jerking her head in a little nod to say she understood. “Just mind you keep your mouth shut. And your legs, for fuck’s sake. God knows you don’t want to end up like me.”

So Maddy Olsen brushed her honey hair—natural, not dyed, not cosmetically altered—a hundred strokes every night and she never ate sweets for fear of ruining her figure and she watched. Silently. She was very good at watching, and very good at keeping quiet. Very good at remembering. While her ma cleaned big fancy houses, Maddy kept to corners, and studied her marks. She learned how the wealthy lived, how they walked, how they talked. She learned their secrets, tucking them into her memory like beautiful, deadly flowers pressed between the pages of a book only she knew about. She practiced their dismissive blindness, practiced their gestures, practiced the way they lifted their noses and sniffed when they caught sight of her. 

At home, in front of the cracked mirror stolen from an old makeup compact, she recreated those expressions, pinching herself hard when she failed. And if her thighs were perpetually marked with little black bruises, her education continued briskly. Soon she moved from gestures to inflections. Rich people didn’t sound like her, didn’t sound like Ma, didn’t sound like any of her friends. Maddy decided she liked old Mrs. Winston’s accent best. The woman was a grade-A snob, but she never dropped her ‘g’s, and she used words like darling and lovely and unsightly. Usually the latter was reserved for Maddy, but Maddy didn’t care. “Unsightly,” she told the mirror later, curling her lip in just the right way. “How wretched you are, Maddy Olsen. How common. How dare you reach beyond your station? How dare you?”

But she dared. She watched, and she studied, and she dared.

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