in fifteen years of spinning this thing it has never done this

Heh, so, uh, yeah about those updates,,, ^^; to be fair, i blame @thesearchingastronaut and im weak for her ideas. *gestures at fic* case en point

Summary: Sharks and Mers used to live in harmony, then they were banned once Zarkon tried to eradicate the mers. For fifteen years it has been like this, and Lance was fed up with it. He was out exploring when he met a shark, and over the course of many months, they fell in love.Little did they know their true identities or how their relationship could heal the rift between another.

WC: 3689


Lance’s fins curled as the scout continued on and on in front of the court. It was an update about the sharks. They were still outcasts, still limited to the other side of the trench, still not allowed to associate with any of the merpeople. Nothing had changed.

Lance looked at his mother and father from the corner of his eye. Their crowns shimmered in the lighting, the water distorting how bright they actually were. And still, the messenger droned on. Allura was looking just as bored as he was. Each month, they had a scout go to the trench and meet with a shark about the status of their clan. It was part of the agreement when King Alfor banished them to the other side of the trench after Zarkon’s downfall. The sharkman had tried to steal the throne and the hunting grounds of the merpeople, but it had been thanks to the few sharks that didn’t agree with their leader to do such a thing. Despite that, the merpeople were wary of the sharks, once seeing their teeth and sharp fins as protection but now as threats.

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To Newt, With Love

Request: “Hi-Hi! I’ve read your newt x reader stuff and they are so nicely done, I like your style! Could I request for angsty newt x reader, pure angst. Sadness and all that. If you don’t mind of course! Something like ‘reader likes newt but newt is stupidly oblivious and he still hanging on leta/is with tina most of the day. At the end, the reader just 'poof’, out of touch. Thank you!”

Word Count: 2,643

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Requested by Anonymous

Requests are currently open! Feel free to send one in

The midnight blue dress draped over your body shatters the beams of golden sunlight streaming through your window, sending specks of glittering light all over the white walls of your bedroom and the pastel green sheets of your bed. You hardly notice, though, as you struggle to clasp a delicate silver necklace around your neck. The fine chain, soft as gossamer, tangles around your fingers, fighting your attempts to secure it. The struggle proceeds for a minute before you can drop the chain and watch it shimmy into its place in the dip between your collar bones. A beautiful gift from an old friend.

An old friend you’re visiting in five minutes, if the godfather clock standing in the corner is correct. A bundle of nerves flutter in your stomach. You haven’t seen Newt in months. Any time you wrote and told him you’d be able to make time, he’d been too busy. Then NEWT exams rolled around and every spare second of every day was dedicated to scrawling out notes and rereading the same chapter five times until you could nearly recite the entire textbook word for word. The grueling effort paid off, though, earning you high grades in every subject.

Today, you celebrate with your best friend of seven years. The two of you agreed to meet at your house at noon before traveling out to Hogsmeade to enjoy butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks and then find a dancing hall. You know Newt has a fondness for dancing unmatched by many others, even if he may be reluctant to admit it.

One more glance in the mirror satisfies you. Not a hair is out of place, your elegant silver earrings brush the tops of your exposed shoulders, and the dress gleams, not a hint of lint on it. You step from the mirror’s gaze and cross the room, enjoying the clacking of your heels against the wood floor. On your dresser sits an ornate black box. Swirls carved and painted white loop around the wide case, meeting on the top to circle around Newt’s full name.

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Stark’s Girl Part 2 (Kinda NSFW)

Originally posted by hardyness


Pairing: Peter Parker(Spider-Man) x Reader

Summary: What happens after you both wake up and at your father’s gala?

Words: 1552

Warning: SOME SMUT AT THE BEGINNING and fluff and language that is all

               Peters groans softly to himself as he wakes up, feeling weight on his chest where you’re curled up against him. He blinks a few times to help wake himself up, only to realize that he’s not looking through the eyes of his mask. Running his hand over his face and into his hair, he starts to panic. What if you see him? For all he knew, you had sex with Spider-Man, fell asleep with Spider-Man, but you’re going to wake up to Peter Parker in your bed!

               You whine as you shift on him, your arm curling up to rest on his cheek. “Pete…stop moving, I wanna sleep…”

               His entire body tenses under yours. You…just called him Pete. Like his name. Meaning you knew who he is without his mask. And you’re still here with him. Meaning you don’t care that he’s Peter Parker, too. So…do you like him, too?

               He shifts onto his side, propping his head up on his hand to look down at you. You whine again, brows furrowing as your eyes shut tighter, the new position making the sun shine directly from the window into your face. Peter can’t help but smile at you, the way your nose is scrunched up, the little whines you keep making as the sun continues to shine. You’re adorable.

               “Peter, the sun burns,” you murmur, burying your face into his chest.

               He can’t help but chuckle at you, kissing your head. “Morning to you, too, sunshine. How’d you sleep?”

               You hum softly, pressing a soft kiss right below his collar bone. “Best I ever had. How about you?”

               “Amazing. Had one hell of a night.”

               You chuckle softly, leaning up to kiss the underside of his jaw. “Well, I have some good news. Before I fell asleep, Dad texted me and said he and he team wouldn’t be back until this afternoon.”

               “And what time is it now, beautiful?”

               You grin, cheeks turning pink from the nickname. “Like…nine fifteen.”

               “Then we have a lot of time to kill, don’t we?” he teases, his hands trailing over your waist and hips, sending shivers and goosebumps over your skin.

               You nod before crawling up, pushing him onto his back, and capturing his lips in a sweet, soft kiss. The both of you hadn’t taken it very slow last night, so you’re making the most of the time you now have. Plus, you know who he is now, your other crush. How much better could it get?

               His lips move slowly against yours, tangling his fingers gently in your hair. You’re both still bare from the night before, so all he has to do is rock his hips up slowly as you make out to bring little sounds from you, making him smile softly.

               You’ve known Peter in school for a year or two now and know he’s not the most confident guy ever, which only makes last night make you wonder. Does his mask give him like a new personality? Because now, he seems more slow and shy. You love both sides and you wonder what this side will lead to.

               His hands drift down to rest on your hips as both of your hips slowly rock against each other, trying to get as much friction as you can. You break the kiss, nose nudging his to make him look into your eyes as you reach between the both of you to guide him inside, both of you completely forgetting about protection now. Now that you know that both of your crushes are the same person, you feel completely at easy having sex with them-him. Peter.

               You feel his muscles tense under you as he holds himself still under you, watching you with his beautiful chocolate brown eyes. God, you love his eyes and his smile and his personality, his nerdiness, his adorable little laugh, his body…

               “Y/n,” a voice calls from several rooms away. You don’t know where for sure, but the man who the voice belongs to makes both of you completely freeze. They aren’t supposed to be home yet, they aren’t supposed to be back until afternoon!

               Peter rolls the both of you over and rushes off your bed, grabbing his boxers quickly. After he pulls those on (getting his foot through the crouch hole accidently that goof), he starts pulling his suit on. You can’t help but giggle at his panicked state, watching him from your bed, still naked. Your plan is to get dressed with Peter, but you can’t stop watching him. He glances up at you, cheeks flaring pink before he presses the spider on his chest, tightening his suit.

               “I’ll, um…I’ll see you later?”

               You nod, grabbing a big shirt of yours to throw on quickly. “Yeah, definitely.”

               He smiles and nods, pulling his mask over his face and climbing out your window to the side of the building. You remember something about later this week and rush to the window, grabbing his wrist.

               “Wait, Peter! Are you free Friday night?”

               He nods slowly. “Um, yeah, I think so. Why?”

               You tuck a bit of your hair behind your ear shyly, biting your lip. “I know it’s a bit out of order, but my dad is having this gala thing and I wondered if you’d be my date. So I’m not alone this time.”

               He pulls his mask up over his nose and pecks your lips gently, smiling. “I’d be honored to accompany you to the gala, princess. See you soon.”

               You smile brightly, grabbing a pair of shorts to tug on before anyone comes into your room. You can’t wait for Friday.


               You smooth out the ruffled skirt of your two-piece dress, shifting nervously as you wait for your father to stop talking to a pretty journalist. You glance around for your date, knowing that he sometimes runs late with some small crime or even just May holding him back, maybe messing and fussing with his outfit since you knew he never wore a tie or suit besides at Homecoming last year.

               “Y/n, come here,” Tony says, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. Of course there’d be pictures for the tabloids. You haven’t been going to many press or social events lately because of school, but it’s late enough on Friday that there’s no problem with you going.

               You pose next to your father for a couple pictures before he guides you into the actual building and starts socializing. You sigh and pull away, walking to the refreshment table, not that you even recognize half of the appetizers on it anyway. You settle on just a drink, sipping it as your lean back against the table. It wouldn’t be so bad if Peter was here like he said he’d be. Yeah, you understand the hero job, sometimes things come up, but wouldn’t he text or call you to let you know?

               Does he even have your number to let you know?

               You smile to yourself at your own stupidity. Why wouldn’t you give him your number after you slept with him? Wait, slept with sounds a little…well, slutty, honestly. You aren’t like that, he’s the only one you’ve ever done that with. It was special, even though you didn’t know at first it was Peter, after finding out the next morning, it made it special. To you, anyway. And he called you beautiful, so he must love you, right? Right?!

               A tap on your shoulder makes you jump and spin around to face a smiling, though shy, Peter Parker. You relax and grin back at him, feeling all the nervousness of him not showing up roll off your shoulders. You want to hug him or give him a kiss, but you can’t, not with so many people around you. So, you take his hand and carefully and hopefully inconspicuously to a stairway that leads to the roof. You’ve always wanted to do this and you really had to ask him something.

               “What are we doing up here?” He looks to you curiously, which you find absolutely adorable. Everything about him is so adorable.

               “Hang on,” you chide teasingly, setting your phone on a box on the roof, turning on Spotify to play some music. You smile as a slower song starts playing and step back up to Peter, holding out your hands to him.

               He slowly understands and rests one hand on your waist, the other holding your hand. He is beyond glad that May taught him how to dance before or else he’d make a huge fool of himself. You smile wider to yourself, loving the feeling of his hand in yours. Your question is in the back of your mind, but you want to spend all the time you can just in his arms. Carefully, you move both your arms around his neck and rest your head on his chest. His cheeks still flush red from you wanting to be so close to him.

               “C-can I ask you something, Y/n?”

               You nod, tilting your head up to look at him.

               “Would…you wanna…go out sometime?”

               You smile brightly, leaning up to kiss him gently. “Only if I can be your girlfriend.”

               It’s hard to kiss someone when all he can do is smile as wide as he can.

TAGS: @captainswriting @caitsymichelle13 @384-chubby-dumpling @curly-haired-crisp @free-wifi-at-wendys @mmycchemicalromance(IDK WHY IT WON’T TAG YOU I’M SORRY) @tomhollandisthicc @nerkybowtie(I’m just tagging you just cuz)

Closed Set

Request:  Hiii so I know you write mostly Sam and you claim you don’t write Jared, but would you be willing to write a Jared story? I want to request: Imagine filming a sex scene with Jared. And maybe he gets really into it, which isn’t in the script, but you can obviously take it wherever your heart desires. -@impalaimagining

Jared x Female Reader

Summary: Filming a love scene with Jared is a little more than you bargained for. 

Warnings: This is what I would consider smut adjacent, nothing too graphic.

Word Count: 1700+

A/N: Beta’d by the always amazing @elliewinchesterr

Possibly part one of two, I’m always skittish when I write Jared. 

“How do those feel?” Tabitha, your wardrobe assistant, gestures to the round flesh colored stickers covering your nipples.

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Finish Line

(gif is mine)

Pairing: Racer!Steve Rogers x Reader (AU)

Summary: Two time Formula One champion Steve Rogers faced one of his worst fears during his race in Austin, TX.

A/N: I dont know what this is, okay, this had been stuck in my head for days ever since I found out that Sebastian Vettel is having a kid and ahhhhh I just really need to get it out of my system. Sorry for so many racing terms I chuck in there. 

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elsaclack  asked:

DARCE I FINALLY THOUGHT OF THE PROMPT I WANTED TO REQUEST FROM U!! literally,,,,,literally anything with the protective jake dynamic from maximum security,,,,i would cry so many tears,,,,i WILL cry so many tears,,,bless ur soul thank u in advance i love u dearly <3 <3 <3

on this week’s episode of Em Wants Me Dead,,,,

in all honesty I rewrote this a few times because I wanted to be completely certain I was hitting that protectiveness right but dear God this prompt came for my soul

anyway HERE <3: 

Amy shifts over in her cell bed, wishing to hell she could rip this stupid fake baby bump off and sleep in an actual, comfortable bed. She needs sleep, desperately, but all she can think about is Maura, and Figgis, and Jake.


The way he’d tried to protect her. The way he’d admitted he couldn’t be here while she was surrounded by these women.

It’s not the first time she’s seen him protective, not by far- but it’s perhaps only the second time she’s seen him act upon it. The first time was years ago, not long into her job at the nine-nine. It’s perhaps one of her first memories of them as real friends, real partners. Warmth spills into her system at the thought of it.

It’s strange, in a way, she thinks, the fondness this memory elicits- the first time Amy knew that Jake Peralta would always have her back just so happened to coincide with one of the saddest days of her life.

Shifting her head against a thin pillow, Amy lets her mind drift, finding the moment and replaying it, in every little detail, letting it lull her to sleep.

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reunions galore

Here it is. I’ve gotten so many positive responses about writing this fic… so I did! The following occurs as if the events of Carry On didn’t take place.

word count: 2.1k

* * *


Fifteen years since I stepped foot into this room. Fifteen years since I saw these people. Fifteen years since I saw him. Simon Snow. The chosen one. 

Crowley, just the thought of him threw me back into the needy, angsty teenager that fell in love with him. I scold myself for my sappy thoughts, as I have so many times throughout the past years. It pains me to think about him, so I don’t. I tell myself that if I ever saw him again, I wouldn’t be the same Baz as before. But there’s no predicting what’ll happen when he walks through those doors.

I’m not sure why I even came. I don’t want to be here. I’m not even sure if I want to see Simon. Give it time, he’ll be here. With that Wellbelove. They’ll waltz in, golden hair and all, with their very own blue eyed blond-haired child, chipper and adorable. Of course. It’ll be like a punch to the gut.


“Cherry! You get back here!” I run a hand anxiously through my hair. As if the events of this morning weren’t enough, Cherry couldn’t seem to get it together enough to behave herself. Now, usually, I am a lenient dad, which I pride myself in, but today is different. It’ll be the first time in years I’ve seen some of these people, and I have to look good. And so my daughter will have to also.

We walk through the doors. Cherry and I spend a good amount of time meandering around the room, as I catch up with old schoolmates. Not friends, I only really had Penny in that, and she’s in America still. I don’t blame her for not coming, though the support would’ve been nice. Soon, I realize that I’ve lost sight of Cherry. I rush around the room, searching, until I feel a tap on my shoulder.

I whirl around, met by none other than Tyrannus Basilton Grimm Pitch, my sworn enemy. I chuckle, either at his long, oh so long name, or at the fact that I just called him my ‘sworn enemy.’ We’re grown men now, surely that won’t still burden us.

“Snow. I think you lost someone.”

Next thing I know, Cherry runs from behind his back, hugging my legs tightly.

“She has your eyes, you know that?” Baz comments offhandedly, not meeting my eyes, but gazing soulfully over my shoulder. He is tall. Even taller than he was in school. His legs go on for miles and he’s wearing dark, nearly black jeans. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and I notice a gold ring on his pinky finger. 

It’s his face which has changed the most. His cheekbones and jaw are defined the most, but he no longer looks hollow or sick. And his hair. In place of what used to be long, luscious locks, his hair was short. It’s still longer on the top, but no where close to what it used to be.

“Really,” I stutter. “Everyone says she has Agatha’s. My hair, but her eyes…”


Crowley, this is a sucker punch to the gut. My cheeks are flushed, and I regret feeding fully this morning.

“No, your eyes aren’t quite as spectacular. Actually, they’re perfectly regular,” I explain, after taking a deep breath.

“Oh really?,” Snow chuckles. “You seem to have thought about this in quite depth.”

That is a byproduct of being in love, Snow, I think. Instead, I say, “I spent an ungodly amount of time cooped up with you at Watford, Snow.” I pause, waiting for him to respond, the add, under my breath, “that’s all.” I glance down at Cherry, golden curls and regular blue eyes. She even has the scattering of moles like Snow. Not a trace of Agatha in her at all.

I inhale sharply. “So you and Agatha then?”

“Actually… not anymore.”

“Oh?” Crowley, this is painfully awkward.

“Yeah, we were married… too soon after Watford,” he begins. “We had Cherry. That was seven years ago. But, you know, after that, it wasn’t working out… Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. And you? Of all people!” He laughs a forced laugh. “Anyway, long story short, we’re not together any more.”

“Ah, I see,” I sigh. I’m not sure whether this is my best dream or my worst nightmare. Snow is single and Agatha is out of the picture. But at the same time, I know I’ll regret not… starting anything. I don’t know what I’m thinking.


I wonder what he’s thinking. I wonder what his life has been like. I genuinely do. I never thought I would, but, dare I say… I’ve missed him. It shocks me more than anything before.

“So, do you have anyone?”

“Ha,” he laughs a sharp, short laugh. “No, actually. I’ve dated some, but, nobody stood out.” He shrugs.

“I see. Still waiting on the perfect girl?” I reply, attempting to stimulate the conversation.

He really laughs at this. A full, hearty laugh. “No no no. Not a girl.”

“Oh– I didn’t– You–?” I stammer. What am I doing. He’s going to think I’m even more of an idiot.

“I’m gay. Yeah…”

“Cool.” I don’t know what part of my brain thought that that was how I should respond.

He nodded and turned to go. I wish I’d stopped him. I don’t know why. But before I could decide to make a move, he was gone, enveloped by the hub of people. But at the same time, emerging from that hub of people, was Agatha. Cherry left my side and ran to her. 

We exchanged polite conversation. Due to Cherry (and all that name before) we actually had kept quite in touch. After all the necessary comments had been said, I said goodbye to Cherry. I’d see her soon enough, but for now, she’d go with Agatha.


I think and think. I scold myself for not being more gutsy. My head spins, as I recreate his springy curls and blue, blue eyes, bronze skin, and constellation of moles in my imagination. I’ve done this so many times, it seems like second nature. Automatic. 

But he was really just across the room. Simon Snow, golden boy, chosen one. I could have him now. No I couldn’t. I could hear Fiona talking in my thoughts, urging me to do something stupid. I rise slowly from the sofa I sat on and wander through the crowd.

Inevitably, I bump into Snow, alone now.

“I can’t seem to escape you,” I sneer. “It’s Watford all over again.”

He doesn’t respond with words. Only with a distracted scan of my face…


I slowly trace the edge of his jaw with my gaze. His skin isn’t quite as grey as I remember, but glowing browner now. His eyes dance, avoiding eye contact. His hair, though, is just as I remember. Dark ebony locks that fall across his face, and beside his ears. He doesn’t bother to slick it back and it looks so much better this way.

In all of this – so much to take in – I am too distracted to respond to… whatever he said.

“Use your words, Snow,” he teases.

I snort and watch his slender hands as he fiddles with his watch. It’s a nice watch. He has nice hands.

“Do you want to visit Mummers House? I feel like visiting my old room,” I propose.

“Sure… Mind you, it is our old room.” To this I reply only with a shrug.


The grounds are quiet. The school year is over, so the dorms are all empty of students. And all the alumni are inside, catching up and all that. The sun is long gone. Our steps fall into a rhythm and our arms swing in unison. Starlight shimmers off the top of his messy array of curls. It’s so like him. The effortless attitude. The relaxed composure. I don’t even bother to question why he invited me. Because I’m too tied up in the scattering of moles that stuck out against his skin, even in the darkness.

When we arrive at our room, the door swings open effortlessly. We instinctively both take to our own beds. The room is the same. The furniture is the same. It all feels the same.


I see the house, and this room, in a whole new light – or lack thereof. Baz’s angular facial structure casts long shadows across his face as he half-glances out the window. 

This might be entirely out of order to ask him – Baz! Of all people. Nevertheless, I ask anyway. “How’d you know? That you were gay, that is.”

He smirks, with a light chuckle. “You are the last person I’d tell.”

“Why?” I say, attempting not to sound too offended. “Because we were ‘archenemies’ in school?”

“Actually…” he begins, flopping down onto the bare mattress and turning his head to face me. “Actually, it’s quite the opposite.”


It takes him a moment to process my comment. I wonder if he ever will, after a while. He’s not speaking, but, at this point, that’s nothing new. He’s just scanning me up and down, and at this point, I’m starting to feel uncomfortable.

Next thing I know, he’s risen and taken a step towards my bed. Then (how anticlimactic) he drops to the floor, and sits, back against his bed.

I raise an eyebrow, though I’m sure he can’t see… but follow in suit. Now we sit, a foot apart, staring across at each other through empty space, charged with magic. I know we can both feel it.

We don’t talk anymore. All that there was to say has been said. It’s as simple as that. Nevertheless, I, of course, want to hear about his life. I want to hear about his house, his job, Agatha, Cherry. I don’t care what hurts me anymore.


We’ve talked about me. I don’t want to think about any of it now. Surprising to me, I want to hear about Baz.

“Snow,” he breaths, avoiding eye contact and bowing his head. Dark, ebony hair falls across his face. On an impulse, I scoot forward and flip it back, exposing his face, clear and bright in the moonlight.



“What?” I sputter, not leaning back away from him, but rather closer. And he lets me.

“That’s my name, Basilton,” he giggles.

“I know that’s your–”

“So use it!” he giggles again, putting a hand on my shoulder and pushing it playfully.

“Why not?” I concede. “Simon.”

Then, I do something daring, and take his hand. While one was rested on my shoulder, the other hung by his side, near my knee. His fingers are warm, and not bony like mine, and he happens to be very good at handholding.


He takes my hand! A rush of exhilaration runs through my body, making my face feel warm and red. I chuckle slightly. I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s still my way of reliving all the emotions that bubble up inside of me. I caress his hand and I can feel the cool of the thin, gold ring that he wore on his right pinky finger.

I can feel him tentatively pulling me forward. I’m not sure how this is happening but it is and my head is spinning. It would be easy to just pull away and walk off, but that is so unbelievably far from what I want. I stay. I let him tug on my hand, and I lean in closer.

We’re millimeters apart, nose to nose. But he doesn’t kiss me. I’m waiting for it. I can feel his lips on mine already.

Soon enough, the anticipation is killing me, so I close the gap.


His lips are pressed against mine, warm and smooth. I let go of his hands and press them against his face, running my fingers all along his cheeks as I kiss him back.

He’s doing something with his jaw, moving it back and forth against mine. I let him go, running a hand down his back. This is too good to be good for me. We’ll both leave in the morning and who knows when I’ll see him again.


“Baz,” I mutter.

“Simon,” he replies. He uses my name. Not Snow. Not anything else. I love that sound coming off his lips. The sound of my name. I love the feel of my lips on his lips.

He smiles and I kiss him harder.

Matches to Ashes

Pt. 1
Draco Malfoy x Reader
Word Count: 1107

It’s an accident.

Because Draco’s fifteen and chasing a girl down the corridor like she’s a fox and he’s the hunter, trigger liquor slick beneath his finger, when he first discovers the Room of Requirement.

It’s a misstep of fate, with a badge glinting on his chest, as he grasps the arm of the girl just as she’s touching her fingers to the wood of the door that he knows, marrow deep in his bones, could disappear any second. It’s a misstep and mistake and if only he’d fucking known.

The next few hours unfold like the dust mottled pages of a fairy tale that Draco doesn’t want to read, not when he’s a villain with blood red teeth. Because the students that had evaded his grasp for months are hauled to Umbridge’s office with pink ringing their cheeks, are interrogated until Umbridge’s palm kisses Potter’s cheek, are there until they’re not, until they’ve managed to escape.

And Draco has never had a knack for looking into crystal balls and being able to glimpse the future. He isn’t sure what took place that night at the ministry, only knows that it ended with his father’s wrists choked by chains.

Things change, after that.

There’s a mark and there’s a task and -

Draco’s sixteen, the next time he finds the Room of Requirement.


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The Price 2/?

Summary: Killian Jones has no desire to return to Misthaven, but his captain and his crew are tied to the kingdom in a way he has never understood, and they consider it a duty to be there for the Choosing. Once every fifteen years, the witch in her high tower chooses a man or woman among them and whisks them away, in payment for all she has done to save this kingdom, and to most it is considered a blessing to be chosen. All Killian wants is for the Choosing to be finished and The Jewel to return to sea, and to forget once again all that Misthaven has taken from him. 

tagging @kmomof4

Chapter One

Chapter Two

When Killian had been a young boy, he’d found himself often at odds with the world around him. Or at least, that was how Liam told it.

He was too young to remember it all, or even most of it, really, but to Killian Jones, the world had been the tavern, and the town surrounding them, the sea before them, but it had been more. His mother had called him fantastical, whimsical, when he brought home strange flowers she’d never seen before, and told her stories of faeries and goblins and beasts with kind eyes.

The rest of the village hadn’t been quite as kind.

He’d been so young he could barely remember their faces, but the taunts, the jeers, the whispers of the mad Jones boy they never bothered to keep silent when he wandered by, those memories remained.

He remembered only one instance of true danger, in all that time. The beasties and ghouls he’d weaved stories of were long gone to his memory, but this one moment in time stayed etched in his mind.

The flowers he’d returned from the woods at the edge of the forest sat neatly in the cup his mother had put them in, sunlight drifting in from the window, bathing them in warm light on the ledge on which they sat, and Killian was quiet as he leafed through the book father had brought back from this fair or that cart. He’d only just begun to make sense of the symbols upon the page, and he’d whispered them quietly, hoping father wouldn’t hear his jumpy mutterings from where he sat beside the kitchen.

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The Predator’s Obsession #6

Summary: In this current day Avengers AU, you work as a profiler with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Your boyfriend, Steve Rogers, leads a close-knit group of supervisory special agents as they track a killer.
Characters in this chapter: Unnamed perpetrator, female reader, Bucky Barnes, Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton, Melanie Sanders [murder victim], Peter Parker, Steve Rogers,
Characters mentioned: Brock Rumlow
Pairing: Steve Rogers x plus size female reader, Bucky Barnes x Wanda Maximoff
Word Count: 1,933
Warnings: Language, fat-shaming, talk of kidnapping and starvation [consider these three a warning for all chapters]
Author’s Note: POV changes. SERIES MASTER LIST Any terminology mistakes are mine, and mine alone. Thank you to @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @climbthatmooselikeatree and @dean-in-the-devils-trap . Without their help and influence, this fic would not have gotten written.

***My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***


“You were profilin’ him,” he stated simply, a protective edge to his voice.

With a sigh, you pinched the bridge of your nose. “It’s what I do, Steve. I’m a profiler.”

“No.” There was a subtle narrowing of his eyes as he stepped back. “No, this time was different.”

“I… I can’t explain it, alright?” you huffed, irritated for several reasons. The main reason for your irritation was the thought you had entertained that Brock could possibly be capable of murder in cold blood. You blamed it on the flash of… something in his eyes. Why would he react that way? All because of a birthmark. To say the least, it had piqued your interest, so you did something you swore you’d never do; profile a member of the team. 


There wasn’t much to do to pass the time while being held hostage. The first thing you had tried to do was fight back, but he was much stronger than you, and the chloroform filled your lungs too quickly. Then you tried pleading with him, begging him to release you, that you wouldn’t tell anyone about it. Next came the shock of finding out who your captor was. You threw up until it hurt deep inside your bones. What followed was betrayal and rage. How could he do this? Not just to you, but to everyone he knew.

After that, you were filled with determination to make it out alive. But no matter what you tried, nothing worked. It was as if the cosmos were conspiring against you. Every time you climbed the dirt walls, you fell flat on your ass. Then there was the time you stripped out of your clothes and secured them together. At the end, you tied a knot around a full water bottle and tossed it up, trying - and failing - to not get your hopes up. You slowly worked in a circle, throwing the bottle, and pulling on it, seeing if it got caught on something, anything that would help you survive or escape. The only thing you got was a black eye when he came home early. You yanked the bottle back so hard, you missed catching it, and it struck you in the face.

He didn’t notice for two days. And when he finally did notice, he didn’t seem to be bothered by it. Not like before, when you had fallen. He just stood there, nodding as you lied, telling him that, “Bruising occurred easier while malnourished.” Which wasn’t a complete lie.

All he did was blink and grind his teeth. You might have been a damn good profiler and could get a read on anyone you met, but when it came to the man standing on the edge above, you had no fucking clue what had gone wrong with him.

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She’s the Tear in my Heart (Extras Part 1)

Summary: Sometimes forever is just one second

There’s always a part of a story that never makes the final cut but still needs to be said. I felt like this was one of them. Send me an ask if you have a prompt for me.

1. She’ll Be His Wings  | 2. He’ll Be Her Anchor | FF.Net

Extras Part One: A Stellar Addition

According to Emma she wasn’t planned, no.

According to Killian-, “the stars were aligned” and all that jazz.

The she they are referring to is-, well, it starts with this.

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Imagine finding out how your parents, Rafael and Erika, met

(A/N: Hope you enjoy. This may seem like a filler chapter but it lays out the background and themes later on so pay close attention. Sorry, I’m posting here but I was dragging out as I’m getting some of my results tomorrow and I’m too stressed out to sleep) 

Masterlist with all the Parts HERE

Imagine finding out how your parents, Rafael and Erika, met


“Hmm?” You countered, looking up from your session of staring aimlessly at the surface of your desk.

“Do you have an answer?” Your physics teacher, Mr. Morgan, asked, turning to look at you as he stopped scribbling on the board.

“800,” You breathed, without hesitation as you quickly glanced over the problem, but you were still distracted.

“That’s right,” He smiled softly, writing it on the board for the class, “Well done,”

You returned his comforting smile with your own forced one, before looking back at your desk again. You could feel his eyes still lingering on you but you elected to ignore it as it wasn’t like him to select someone to ask a question twice in a row. So you knew that you didn’t have to pay attention anymore not that you often had to pay attention to his explanations of concepts but usually you enjoyed it, just not recently.

The class was over in around ten minutes, signaling the end of class, but that ten minutes seemed to go much slower for you. The bell rang and everyone got up to head to their next lesson which for you was Music, you had a showcase coming up and all your lessons were dedicated to preparing for it.

“Alright, I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Mr. Morgan waved off before everyone started to file out of the room.

You got up yourself, your friend waiting for you patiently. You turned to follow her when you were stopped.

“Y/N, do you mind staying back for a few minutes?” Mr. Morgan asked suddenly, appearing close behind you.

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Why Wonder Woman’s Fight Choreography Worked

so in my post critiquing the shit out of Wonder Woman, I mentioned that I liked the fight choreography, so here’s a more detailed post as to why (post is in queue at time of writing, will link it later).

I thought that I would spend the movie quietly stuffing down my exasperation with all the extra twirls and flips in the fighting. Usually, that’s the case when I watch action films, especially superhero/fantasy films. I don’t think that movies should have 100% “realistic” combat choreography, but movies with especially unrealistic fights, with spins, flips, dramatic pauses, etc. really break the immersion and throw me out of the story. Part of this is because I have some experience with a few different combat arts. Those sports aren’t necessarily “realistic” either, but they’re definitely closer to “real” hand-to-hand combat than what you see in most Hollywood movies, and so seeing egregiously unrealistic fights on-screen sets off the constant thought of “wait, that’s not what that looks like” that you then have to squash down so you can enjoy the movie. It’s like watching an actor with a really badly faked American accent (looking at you, Bimblesnip Copperflap). That’s not what that’s supposed to sound like, and it’s distracting (I’m sure that people from Not America have this problem a lot more often, with American films that butcher the shit out of other languages). 

Aaaaanyway, I expected that that would be the case with Wonder Woman, and it sort of was, but not really. I didn’t spend all that much time going “ignore the fact that someone should have shot her in the legs/stabbed her in the back during her flip”. Instead I was engrossed in how fucking awesome it looked.

I think that the reason has to do with how Wonder Woman mixes two different movie atmospheres: the high fantasy comic-book movie world of Themiscyra, Diana, Ares, and the Amazons, and a gritty war movie world of World War I, Steve, and the horrors of war. For the Amazons, it makes sense for them to be doing all these sweet kickflips and shit. Isolated for thousands of years, war and combat has become an art form to them. Their movements are practiced and sure, they never misjudge a move or make a mistake, they never look unsure or desperate, they hardly even break a sweat or breath hard, and of course they’re going to embellish their fighting style. It’s still effective as hell, but did Antiope really need to jump fifteen feet in their air off a shield to shoot 3 dudes she could just as easily have shot from the ground? No, not really. But it looks really fucking cool. The Amazons exist in a world where everything is sort of elevated to this perfected, stylized art form- combat, armor and clothes (you can’t argue that Hippolyta’s metal corset is comfortable, or that the Amazon’s armor is effective and realistic), the way they speak, the way their hair is always fucking perfect, the cliche (not in a bad way) legendary past and Important Artifacts, all of it is contrived as hell, but it’s acceptable in a movie about Amazons because, well, it’s sort of part of the package of the world.

The gritty war movie half of Wonder Woman is the half where the movie tries to emphasize the fact that heroes aren’t always good people, innocents die in war and you can’t save everyone, combat is bloody and dirty and gross and horrific, and there is no honor in battle, no dramatic pauses while you say something witty to the enemy, no spinning around to high-kick another dude in the face because if you do the guy you’re kicking grabs your leg and punches you while the someone else bashes you in the back of the head with a gun.

Throughout Wonder Woman, you can very clearly see the divide between the Gritty War Movie and the High Fantasy Movie. Steve, who’s in the Gritty War Movie, is the one who doesn’t waste his time saving people he knows he doesn’t have the resources to save, he’s the one who doesn’t manage to find the magical option C that lets him save the day and survive, he does what is needed, even if it’s immoral. 

Diana exists in the High Fantasy Movie. She saves everyone because she wants to, not because it makes logical sense for her to be able to. She wins the big fight at the end through Righteous Fury, not a clever plan (not a bad thing, just a hallmark of the High Fantasy Movie). She bends the world through force of will alone. Her final fight is versus the most High Fantasy villain ever- a villainously-monologuing ancient evil god wielding fire and dressed in spiky armor. 

These two halves don’t traditionally mix well. Lots of times, in movies that are trying to be the Gritty War Movie, there’s a fight that is just so perfectly choreographed that it looks silly. It doesn’t look like the characters are trying to kill each other, it looks like they’re playing out a script. Fights in Gritty War Movies (if done right) are scrabbling, punching, fighting dirty, desperation, clawing, and panic. Think about how fucking weird and stupid it would look if Steve fought like Diana did. Not with her skill level- with her style. If he went around throwing high kicks and jump kicks at Germans, or mowing down 20 people like they’re nothing, or pausing dramatically with his hair flowing in the breeze and giving a dramatically determined look and somehow not getting shot, it would look ridiculous. Because he’s in the Gritty War Movie half of the movie. Those moves all are fine on Diana, because she’s in the High Fantasy half of the movie. (NB, the only other movie I can think of whose ridiculously silly combat and lack of effective armor didn’t bother me at all was 300- for exactly this reason. 300 knew precisely what kind of ridiculous, over-the-top fantasy it was, and it didn’t try to be anything different).

What’s interesting about Wonder Woman is that it manages to combine the High Fantasy Movie and the Gritty War Movie remarkably well. Not perfectly- I think that Diana’s final fight and character arc were too stuck in the High Fantasy Realm and missed out on the impact they could have gained from the Gritty War Movie Realm. But really well! Most movies that try fail utterly. For instance, Hunchback of Notre Dame tried to be a silly disney movie, while also being the darkest fucking cartoon you’ve ever seen, and the result was the darkest fucking disney movie you’ve ever seen, with the unfortunate distractions of a silly song and a lame, cop-out ending to the romantic arc. It made a potentially phenomenal movie just ok. The Hobbit trilogy tried to be about 15 different kinds of movie all at once, and just ended up being a mess. 

Wonder Woman was, in a way, all about the clash of the High Fantasy realm and the Gritty War realm. It’s Diana vs. Steve, Themiscyra vs. World War 1, Ares vs. chemical weapons. Idealism can save the day vs. do what you can and mourn later. Like I said, I think the movie kept Diana too much in the High Fantasy realm. Her arc was about her losing her naive idealism about humanity, and choosing to save them- idealistically- anyway. To do that effectively, the movie needed to thrust her much more into the Gritty War Realm. But I digress- that’s a thing for a different post, I guess. Wonder Woman’s fight choreography works so well precisely because the clash of fighting styles is mirroring the clash of realms in the plot and characters. Steve keeps telling Diana that they can’t save everyone, and Diana waltzes in and flips reality the bird and says “watch me”. Her (objectively silly, but also objectively cool as fuck) fighting style is a symbolic mirror of this: reality says “don’t do stupid shit in a fight or you’ll get shot in the back of the head” and Diana’s kickflips waltz in, middle fingers up, and say “I don’t care also fuck your teeth”. It works really well. It emphasizes her idealism and the strength and force of her convictions.

Now, I do think that the movie would have been better if, like I said in my other post, she had lost her High Fantasy fighting style when finally killing Ares, and just beat him to death with her fists. This is because her character arc is supposed to be her losing her naive ideals about humanity, but choosing to save them despite their flaws and darkness. Ending the fight in the Gritty War Realm instead of the High Fantasy Realm would have paralleled that realization- Diana is no longer fighting in her idealized, art-form style, showcasing the true gruesome reality of death, and the gruesome reality that she killed someone, but she is a hero despite that, and her decision to uphold her mission to protect humanity, despite their violence and flaws, is made with her having fully, viscerally experienced those flaws and that violence herself- in herself.

As it was, it felt to me a bit like Diana was still ignoring the realities of war and death, and the High Fantasy Realm was just running roughshod over the Gritty War Realm (plugging its ears and going “lalala I can’t hear you). Diana’s character arc neatly and beautifully brings the idealism of High Fantasy into concord with the ugly reality of Gritty War, but the effect is undermined by the final fight’s insistence on a neat, High Fantasy conclusion, and would have been better supported if Diana had fully immersed herself in the Gritty War Realm and come out the other side with her High Fantasy ideals. 

sorry for the length and the plot analysis digression. If only I were majoring in something that would require me to analyze the shit out of the plot of Wonder Woman…

Bucky Barnes (Part 7)

Bucky Barnes x reader (finally)

Warnings: Language, Violence, Uncomfortable Conversations, Lasagna

You and Bucky sit on the sofa, your head pillowed on his chest as something mindless plays on the TV. You’re dozing, curled up against him like a child, your fingers tangled in his loose t shirt. Bucky doesn’t mind, he likes this, it feels normal. He’s not even watching whatever obnoxious show is on, his hand is propped on his fist, his fingers caressing through your long hair.

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Originally posted by leakees

Read Part I Here

*Please note that there is discussion of an abusive relationship and it’s aftermath in this part.*

Roman Reigns Mini-Fic: Polar Opposites - Part II

I heard the soft knocking on my door and struggled to get to my feet. I stumbled over to the door and looked through the peephole. Holy Shit. He came back. I was stunned. I unlocked the deadbolt before I even realized I had done it. When I cracked open the door he started to speak before I had a chance to stop him.

“Please don’t shut the door in my face,” he pleaded – his face a mixture of apprehension and determination.

“I’m not gonna shut the door in your face, Roman,” I sighed as I hesitantly opened it up further, my hand trembling against the door as my body still fought against my mind while I tried to calm down.

Roman stepped back through the doorway, his fingers running through the stubble that lined his jawline as he instinctively reached towards me again. I was surprised, knowing how that had ended for him less than ten minutes ago but this time I didn’t jerk away. He slid his hand around my waist and pulled me towards him, wrapping both of his arms around me as I felt myself settling against him, letting him hold me as my body continued to tremble slightly. I felt the steady thrum of his heartbeat against my ear as I inhaled slowly and exhaled even slower – his scent nearly intoxicating me since my face was pressed up against his chest and I continued to breathe him in. The mixture of his cologne, aftershave and the slight hint of the honey whiskey on his breath was calming and I felt my body start to relax against his. The seconds ticked by as we stood there, neither of us speaking as he rubbed slow circles into my lower back with his fingertips.

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If the Shoe Fits Park Jimin x Reader Ballet Au!

Originally posted by missbaptan

1  2  3  4  5  6

Miju shifted nervously in her seat at the cafe she was sitting at with Kang Dahui. What if her mother saw her? Or any staff member that worked with Yoo family, they would for sure tell her mother. It has been two days after that night with Jimin, and when Kang Dahui messaged Miju late at night. 

“What is it that you want?” Miju snapped, Dahui looked up from her drink.

“Now you want to know huh?”

“I’m not here to play games Kang Dahui.” 

“Well the other night I happened to see Park Jimin and dandelion maker together. He was leaving her house.” Miju scoffed and rolled her eyes. 

“Please Jimin was getting his costumes, and just so you know this is a horrible way of getting my attention. Instead of fabricating lies, try to catch my eye on the stage.” Miju was about to get up and leave, but Dahui snatched Miju’s wrist and yanked her back to her seat. 

“I’m not done yet…” Dahui pulled her phone out open to her photos and on the screen was the back of your body carrying Sehwa into the house with Jimin following you. Miju took Dahui’s phone and started swiping left. There was another picture of Jimin leaving your house, with you waving. Miju didn’t want to believe any of this, Jimin couldn’t be getting distracted, they were so close. She even wanted to practice that night, but he said he was out getting the costumes. 

“This isn’t Jimin, it could be just another boy who looks like him. Dandelion could have a boyfriend.” Miju said, making up an excuse. Dahui reached forward and continued to swipe left, “I had a feeling you wouldn’t believe me,” she stopped on a picture that captured his blue Spirra from the side and his license plate.

 “So I got a picture of his car. I know you can recognize his car and license number Yoo Miju, and if that doesn’t prove anything to you I looked up that number, and found out that this car is registered under his name.” Dahui pulled out a printed document that had all of the information about Jimin’s car, registration, and his license. There was even his DMV picture in the top left hand corner, and his name printed under it.

“Where did you get all of this?” Miju asked. 

“Well if you tell your police officer father that you are interested in a boy, a profile of him is bound to show up.” Dahui answered simply. 

“So what was your goal of you telling me?” Miju fake laughed, there was still hostility in her playful tone. 

“I want you to get rid of dandelion, and I know if you were pushed far enough you would, and this is what you needed.” 

“Why would you ask me? Aren’t I competition for you?” Miju asked. 

“I know you too Yoo Miju. I know that your family ‘gets rid’ of other people easily, and no one will ever know. I’ve seen all of the documents, my mother is one of your father’s attorneys. She gets rid of all of these dirty documents, because of course there mustn’t be a stain to the Yoo family. I know what your mother said about getting rid of dandelion, and how she’ll make sure you aren’t caught.” Miju squinted her eyes, how did Dahui know all of this?

“And how do you know about what my mother said?”

“Madame Yoo must learn how to speak with an inside voice.” Dahui said sweetly. 

“If I get rid of dandelion you won’t tell anyone?” 

“Why would I if my goal is for her to be gone without anyone in trouble? How you get rid of her is up to you, I don’t care as long as she is gone.” Dahui said, and left leaving Miju in the cafe. For a girl who was only fifteen years old, she was super scary, she knew a lot, and how to find the things she wanted. Miju sat and thought if she really needed to get rid of you, the way you acted with Jimin seemed like it was enough. She remembered how you reacted Jimin helped you, it didn’t seem like you appreciated his favor, 


Jimin sighed as he threw his bag down, where was Miju? She was never late for their pair practices. He pulled his phone and sent her text.

Jiminiie:  Where are you? I’m in the practice room 

Miju: I’ll be there soon, I had an unexpected appointment, sorry. 

Jimin sighed when he read Miju’s text, they only had so much time until the show, and they also had to start rehearsing for ‘The Nutcracker’. ‘The Nutcracker’ was only going to be in two months in December, and then after that it was audition season, he badly wanted to get into a company as a third year, not spend one more year at Etre. He had to get out now, or Jungkook might get out before him. Jimin started to practice the pas de deux on his own, without Miju. He would only imagine her figure, coming across the stage, as he would spin to meet her. He imagined his hand on her hips, but in his mind he was met with kaleidoscope eyes. Green and blues swarmed around the deep brown background that were her eyes. It was no longer Miju he was seeing, it was you in the pale pink costume. Hot pink roses that went up the bodice, and across the collar, extenuated the jutting of your collar bones and soft tones of your skin. Your princessy smile sparkled, just like the floral hair piece against you (h/c) hair. Jimin just kept dancing, he felt this new surge of passion in him as he danced. He moved more smoothly and elegantly as he danced with what he thought was you. When it was time for the lift he felt more confident coming into the lift, he imagined holding you above his head, your legs were crossed as you clenched every muscle in your body, keeping everything tight, and keeping your body up with your own pure strength. 

“Wow I’ve never performed the first awakening like that.” A voice shattered the illusion of you in front of Jimin’s eyes. He looked up and saw Miju walking in with her bag. She sat down and started to prep her feet and put her pointe shoes on. 

“I guess, I was only trying my best to practice by myself.” Jimin replied, he was already sweating. Miju hadher shoes on and was ready to dance.

“If you could redo what I just saw you do I think we can nail the lift. You looked really strong going into the lift.” Miju squeezed Jimin’s shoulder. All Jimin could feel was the pressure of Miju’s grip, it wasn’t electrifying like yours. He couldn’t feel the lightning effect that sent his skin racing or the booming thunderous feeling in his ribs. You caused a storm in his body, that clouded his mind, but also cleared it at the same time. He couldn’t say why, but it felt perfect whenever he was with you, touching you, even wearing the shoes you made for him. He felt like he was dancing with you, well in a way he was. His maker, his partner, in a pas de deux no one will see, the bond between shoe and foot. 

Jimin and Miju set up in their correct positions for the pas de duex. Jimin closed his eyes for a second and tried to imagine you in Miju’s place. He spun in sync with her as the reached the middle stage, there were small lifts in between where he held her firmly. Jimin came down to Miju’s waist, and lifted her over his head, just like he would if he was holding you. Miju felt secure and safe, like she would never fall. She trusted Jimin, she had to, she couldn’t panic it would put the both of them in danger. 


Jimin picked at his salad in the dining hall, pushing the boring greens around his plate. One by one all of his friends started to sit with him. 

“I can’t wait for the show, I’m super excited, we have been practicing so much.” Sori said as she was sitting down. Sori had the role of Carabosse, the wicked fairy who places princess Aurora under curse. However, Sori was quite the opposite of Carabosse, Sori was an excellent actor. She was a very sweet girl who was usually quiet, but she could portray evil characters very well. 

“I know, I just love the costumes.” Chaerin said, thinking about her tutu that was multiple shades of purple tulle layered on top of each other. She was the Lilac Fairy, the one who saves princess Aurora by turning her curse from death, to a deep sleep. 

“Lucky you…you’re not Puss in Boots.” Hoseok grumbled. He was a little cranky about his role because of his cat like pas de deux with a girl who wasn’t Chaerin, and the costume was pretty ridiculous. He had to wear ballony pants, with a ugly cat mask that covered half of his face, and to top it off he had to wear a powdered ginger wig. 

“Haha poor hyung.” Jungkook teased. Jungkook got the role of Gallifron, Florimund’s tutor and Prince Charming. 

“Yah, watch it, before I stabbed you.” Hoseok threatened, pointing his salad fork at Jungkook. Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi, and Taehyung were the four suitors; Cheri, Charamant, Fortune, and Fleur de Pois. 

“By the way is dandelion coming to watch?” Taehyung asked. 

“I don’t know, but someone was supposed to ask her.” Hoseok said, as he nudged Jimin.

“Why do I have to ask her? She’s your friend.” Jimin said. 

“Because you’re the one who won’t shut up about her. You always ask Hoseok and I questions about her, and never ask yourself. It’s time you do it yourself.” Chaerin said, cutting in. 

“No way hyung has a crush on dandelion?!” Jungkook said. Jimin’s cheeks started to burn. 

“There is no way where I could ever like her. She’s like a female Yoongi.”

”Do you have a problem with me brat?” Yoongi said, raising a brow. 

“No offense, but I wouldn’t date you Yoongi,” Jimin stated plainly eating more salad. 

“Just go and ask her already.” Hoseok pushed. 

“Why are we even inviting her?” Miju sneered. 

“Because we all wanted her to come.” Namjoon answered. 

“Well not me.” Miju said.

“Um, you did say ‘okay’.” Chaerin said, Miju shot Chaerin a dirty look. 

“When did I ever say that?” 

“When we were talking about it the other day.” Chaerin said plainly, “we all planned to take her out to dinner.” 

“Well, Sehwa might make her go.” Hoseok added. Jimin perked at Sehwa’s name. Sehwa did whole true to her name, she was a bright and shining child.

“Who’s Sehwa?” Seokjin asked. 

“Sehwa is dandelion’s little sister. You might like her Jin, you two can be princesses together.” Hoseok teased. 

“Aw, she’s got a little sister?!” Taehyung squealed, “come on Jiminnie get dandelion to come. I want to see her little sister.“ Taehyung whined, tugging on Jimin’s white shirt. 

“Fine I’ll do it.” Jimin said, yanking away from Taehyung. “I’m doing it right now.” Jimin pulled out his phone to prove that he was going to text you.  

Spoiled Siegfried: Hey, come to ‘Sleeping Beauty’ next Saturday 

(l/n) (y/n): I am coming or else Sehwa or Chaerin will kill me. Whoever gets to me first… 

Jimin smiled at your witty text, your humor was slowly growing on him. 

“She’s coming, so now don’t bother me anymore.” JImin said, wiping the smile off of his face, and putting his phone away. Chaerin noticed the small smile, and she knew she was right, only if you just listened to her. She pulled out her phone and texted you. 

Riniie: Make sure to wear something nice to ‘Sleeping Beauty’ on Saturday. Don’t dress how you normally dress….

(y/n)iie: Why? What’s wrong with how I dress? 

Riniie: You just wear the must boring stuff. Wear something more girly with more color please? We’re taking you out to dinner after the show. 

(y/n)iie: Just because we are going to dinner after doesn’t mean I have to wear a dress. Who said I have to go to dinner after anyways. 

Riniie: (y/n). It’s. Free. Food. 

(y/n)iie: Damn it…you drive a hard bargain. But no dinner if I don’t dress huh? :\

Riniie: Bingo 

(y/n): Fiiiinnnnneeeee I’ll wear a dress. 

Riniie: Yay! You’re the best I love you <3 

(y/n)iie: You better remember that you brat, I am your unnie >:)  

Right after you done with your conversation with Chaerin you got another message. 

Jaejung: Come to Billion Dream Saturday, that’s when we’re filming the video for the choreography I made, 3-5. It’s gonna be fun~ :) 

Your teeth tugged at the your fleshy lips, both performances were the same day, and close to each other. ‘Sleeping Beauty’ was five to seven. Maybe you could get into Etre and little bit after five, yeah, that was your plan. 

Darling: Yeah, I can make it. I can’t wait to see it!

Jaejung: Hey maybe…. 

Darling: Maybe…? 

Jaejung: Maybe we could hang out for the rest of the day if you don’t mind? 

Darling: ): Sorry I can’t my other friends and I made plans to get dinner after. I won’t be able to do it. 

Jaejung: Don’t sweat it darling, it won’t be the only opportunity we’ll have  to get dinner. 

Darling: I would love to get dinner on another day ^//-//^ 


After lunch Jimin and Miju started to rehearse the wedding pas de deux. Jimin’s father and Miju’s mother volunteered to help them with the role. Jimin’s mother, however, didn’t volunteer to help the pair. She didn’t want to see her older son, she was too focused on the younger Park boy. Park Byungchul was a principal dancer at the Korean national ballet, but before that he was a second soloist at Mariinsky Theater, one of the greatest companies in the world. He never got a chance to become a principal because he came back to Korea after he proposed to Jimin’s mother. He didn’t want to be in Russia while his wife had to take care of their future family. It would have put Park Jueun with no career or time to dance.

“Lady and gentleman are you ready?” Master Byungchul asked. Miju and Jimin nodded. 

“This is you final pas de duex for this show, and you might be tired from before, but please try your best to maintain the youthful glow Aurora and Florimund has.” Madame Sujin said, “remember to keep a smile, and please act like a happy married couple.” Miju and Jimin nodded once more, and began to practice. Miju was already wearing a practice tutu for when she had to wear the wedding dress. The routine required a lot of balance from Miju and support from Jimin. Jimin had to make sure he held onto to her, and made sure she was never off balance. The hardest part was the hand less fish dive. Jimin had the squat low enough to support Miju on his quad and Miju and had use her legs to make sure she held onto Jimin’s back. She also needed tight and strong abs to hold her body up, and not look like a limp noodle on him. With all of that strength being used they had to make it look all too easy to do, like they weren’t in pain or tired, they had to look like they were in love with each other, and smile widely. Jimin had to spin Miju while keeping her balanced, his hands on her hips; then you would have to lift her high enough where he could catch her by her thighs, and then lower himself and her into the dive position. 

“Mister Park keep your center of balance lower so Miss Yoo has more surface to balance on.” Master Byungchul pointed out. With a small grunt Jimin lowered himself slowly offering more of his quad for Miju to lay herself on. Jimin sucked his lips into his mouth as he chewed on both his bottom and top lip. 

“Mister Park do not make that face, it is ungraceful, smile or keep a blank face please.” Master Byungchul said. Jimin pursed his lips out, and forced a smile onto his face.

“Miss Yoo please tighten your core some more I need you to look up at the audience, not looking at the stage floor. Your legs also need to hold on to Mister Park tightly, do not let them shake. If you think people can not see it, they can.” Madame Sujin said, correcting her daughter. Jimin and Miju made the adjustments according to their parents and held the position. 

“Perfect, try to attain this position when you perform, practice will help you find it more easily.” Madame Sujin said. Jimin slowly got back into the standing position while lowering Miju, but he was so tired she landed loudly. 

“Mister Park please do not drop Miss Yoo you might hurt her toes.” Madame Sujin said. 

“I agree, we do not want anyone injured.” Master Byungchul agreed. Jimin blew his black bangs out of his sweaty face, partly out of the heat and the frustration he was feeling. He was already tired from practicing this choreography, and lifting Miju. She wasn’t heavy, but after a while she did start to feel heavy. Jimin closed his eyes as he walked to his bag for his water. He took a drink and felt the cool water wash down his throat. He started to think what if you were doing this pas de deux again with him. 

‘Just think about her, just think about her, just think about her….’ Jimin repeated in his head, as he walked back to his starting position for the pas de deux. Even though he was looking and Miju, he started to replace her with with the illusion of you. You were standing there in the white and gold tutu, the beautiful shimmering tiara in you neat hair. While Jimin danced his father noticed that he was dancing with a new passion that he didn’t have when he started this rehearsal. He move more elegantly, he was light on his feet, balanced, his smiled glowed while he dance with Miju. He was able to keep her balanced perfectly as he held her arms. Madame Sujin noticed it too, there was such a big difference from how he was dancing, where did he find this ability withing him. This quality of dancing was different from how he usually was, yes on his own he was an excellent dancer, but it seemed like he didn’t have much of a reason to dance. As a ballet dancer you can not just dance, acting the role you were given without saying a word was required of you. Jimin was never a good actor, that’s what he lacked the most, but now he was able to portray with aura of Florimund.

 Jimin lifted Miju, and sank into the squat easily, he didn’t tremble as he lowered himself and Miju. ‘I am not going to drop her.’ Jimin thought, as he clenched every muscle that he needed to make sure Miju could balance and hold on him. When Jimin thought Miju was anchored onto him he pulled his hands away from her hips and positioned them elegantly in the air. Miju did slip from Jimin’s body, he was low enough, but he was balanced enough to have her stay on him, even if she wasn’t doing a good job herself. 

“Miss Yoo tighten your legs around Mister Park, I see your body sliding down. Mister Park can not do all of the work.” Master Byungchul said as he massaged the bridge of his nose. Jimin put his hands back on Miju hips so she could unwind her legs from around Jimin so she could stand back up again. 

“Master Byungchul is right Miss Yoo, but right now practice is over, go to your next class, and don’t forget to take care your bodies. Now that your show is coming closer do your best to not injure yourselves, make sure not skip any steps your care regimens.” Madame Yoo said dismissing the couple. Madame Yoo and Miju left the room first leaving only Jimin and his father. 

“I saw that last dance-”

“-yeah, and?” Jimin cut his father off while he took a gulp of water. 

“That was some pretty advanced dancing. It was very different from how you usually dance, what were you thinking about?”

“About not dropping her.” Jimin wasn’t exactly lying her was think about his partner, if his partner was you…. 

“Jimin are you telling me the truth?” His father lowed, Jimin nodded his head up and down. “Well if that’s the case then keeping thinking that thought because that was the best performance during this whole rehearsal. Byungchul knew Jimin was not telling the whole truth, but right now he didn’t want press because of how fragile everything was back at home. 

“You know you can always come home once and while to see Jihyun, you two only have each other, and he does miss you. I know you miss him too. Jimin didn’t say anything, he looked down at his black leather slippers and waited for his father to leave him. Heart broken, Byungchul slowly stepped out of the dance room. When Jimin heard the door shutting he picked up his bag and flung it across the empty room with whatever energy he had left. towels, clothing, water bottles, and protein bars were scattered on the hard wood floor. He was now hyper ventilating now, he turned and looked at himself in the mirror. There he stood, in black sweats, black tank top, his muscular shoulder hunched over. He couldn’t help but open his jaw widely and let out a scream from his vocal cords. He could feel inkling soreness in his voice box, as he lowered himself into a criss cross position. He was alone, with no one, but his own eyes staring back into themselves  

Ascendance of a Bookworm – 054

Finishing My Dress and Hairpins

After two days, my fever broke.

Getting my new dress altered might be very risky. If things keep going like this, I’m going to get sick again before we can actually finish fitting it. Contemplating this, I get out of bed, and go looking for my mother.

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elivent  asked:

Hi! Can I ask you to write something canon compliant about FS moving into their double bunk or their new apartment?

Hi @elivent! Thank you so much for the prompt! This one turned out a bit different, style-wise, but I hope it’s still what you were looking for.

Here is day three of my week long celebration of my blog anniversary! A huge thank you to everyone that’s sent in prompts - I now have enough to post one each day this week, so keep an eye out for them! 

As always, enjoy!


The first time they move in together, they’re nineteen, fresh out of the Academy and in a hurry to become SHIELD’s top scientists. There’s about a week between the time they graduate and when they’re set to start at Sci-Ops, so the hunt for a decent flat and the actual moving in are done within just a few days.

It’s not much, a space just big enough for the two of them, and most importantly, it’s a fifteen minute walk from the Sci-Ops facility (the key deciding factor, really). They don’t have much between the two of them, and it isn’t long before they’re unpacked and suddenly this is what they call home.

Things aren’t always easy – though they’ve been attached at the hip for the past two and a half years, they’ve never lived together and there’s an adjustment period. There’s arguments over who gets to shower first or who’s turn it is make dinner that night, Jemma is eternally frustrated by the dirty laundry Fitz seems to leave everywhere, and Fitz can’t stand the fact that there only ever seems to be ridiculously healthy food in the kitchen.

But, at the end of the day, they’re still together, and after watching friends and partners at the Academy assigned to separate SHIELD facilities after graduation, they understand how lucky they truly are.

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Request (anon): The reader accidentally finds Riz’s gift for her

words: 1237

Twenty-four hours. That’s how long you have left to spend with your boyfriend. Your boyfriend, who is sound asleep against your lap on the living room sofa. A movie, which has long lost your attention, is still playing quietly in the background. Despite having selected the movie, Riz fell asleep just twenty minutes in.

You know that part of his sleeping stems from him trying to cling to a normal sleep pattern before he has to leave home for a few weeks. The other part is pure exhaustion. In the past week, just as he always does before he has to leave, Riz has spent nearly every waking minute with you. He pouted each time you chose work over him, yet he was there to pick you up the second you were finished for the day.

Lightly brushing your fingers against his hair, you can’t help but smile at the sight of him curled up against you. As much as you hate to admit to him, this action is the one you’re going to miss the most from him.

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Klaine Valentines Challenge - “Gay Bar Superstar” (Rated T)

Nursing a bar stool at Scandals, Kurt spots a handsome man dancing with a skeevy guy - a man he just can’t take his eyes off of. Kurt thinks that handsome man may want to dance with him, but should he really cut in?

Of course, he should. He’s done it before. (1129 words)

Written for the Klaine Valentines Challenge prompt “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You”

Read on AO3.

“Here ya go, buddy – one Shirley Temple, extra cherries.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks.” Kurt reaches back blindly to grab a cherry from his glass, barely acknowledging the burly man who slid it across the bar to him. Kurt pops the cherry in his mouth, chews it, swallows it, then immediately grabs another. He pounds them back one at a time, his mind, and his eyes, focused elsewhere …

… out on the dance floor, where a handsome man in skin tight jeans, a blue cardigan, and a bowtie (of all things) shakes his ass to a retro ABC tune.

And he’s got a stellar ass, too – plump, pert, testing the limits of that denim fabric’s sustainability every time he wiggles his hips.

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