is there anyone who want other scans

Lose Your Keys, Find A Man

Originally posted by imaginesandmoreforfandom

Prompt: For the anon who sent in “Can you do a Derek Morgan x reader where she’s being harassing by some guy who won’t take a hint and he comes to her rescue?” 

A/N: Ah! I do love and miss my beautiful Derek Morgan so much! (Do I sound like Penelope yet lol? XD) This one is for the awesome anon who requested it and all the Morgan girls out there, not enough fics for him exist and I am happy to add to the collection. Enjoy :) Also, I’m still taking requests so if you want to hit up that asks box!

Note: (Y/N/N): your nickname

Word Count: 1.7 K

Rating: PG (maybe PG-13 if you really squint)

“Just one more drink she said, it’ll be fun she said! More like she’ll become a pain in the ass who can’t stand up,” you muttered as you dragged your friend Elizabeth out of the club with the help of your other friend Molly. The three of you had met your freshman year of college at Virginia Tech. Other than having one freshman english class, the three of you had polar opposite class and career tracks. You were a corporate lawyer, Molly was on the fast track to being a neurosurgeon, and Elizabeth was an aspiring painter. The three of you became inseparable and still shared an apartment, six years later. And it was times like this where you were glad you all had that kind of history else you might have killed the two of them by now. When you went out, you usually assumed the duty of being designated driver and “mom” of the night, while your two friends chose to drink ‘til they dropped, literally. 

“Look on the bright side, you can give her hell for this and shine a bright light in her eyes in the morning,” Elizabeth mumbled, stumbling slightly due to her drunk state and Molly’s extra weight on her shoulder. 

“Yeah right,” you snorted, “We both know that I’ll be handing out ibuprofen and coffee to you both in the morning and saying, ‘poor sweet baby’”. 

“True, but hey at least I’m not as much of a pain to handle,” she replied, as you hailed a cab. 

“Don’t even go there,” you said playfully bumping her shoulder. The passing cab came to hault and with you and Elizabeth’s combined efforts you managed to settle Molly inside. You reached in your purse for your wallet to ensure you could pay the fair and made a horrible discovery. “Shit, I think I dropped my keys,” you groaned.

“Just run inside and go find ‘em. We can wait.”

“No, it’s fine. I have no idea where I dropped them and this could take awhile. You need to get her home before she gets sick in the car.”

“Ok, just be careful. See you at home,” Elizabeth said. You closed the door of the cab and watched them drive off. You quickly walked back into the bar, not wanting to be outside for two long. You weren’t paranoid, just cautious. You’d heard too many horror stories women getting kidnapped outside of bars late at night. You quickly started scanning the room for a thick wad of keys as you walked back in. Not immediately catching sight of them, you trudged over to the bar. 

“Hey, Nick. Has anyone turned in a set of keys in the last ten minutes?” you asked the bartender, who you’d gotten to know since your friends loved this bar. 

“Afraid not (Y/N). Only things back here other than little old me are the drinks and a couple of notepads,” he replied cheekily. 

“Ha, well that was worth a shot. I’m going to go look over at the booth where we were sitting but if I can’t find them and they get turned in you’ll let me know right?”

“I’ll holler if they turn up.”

“Thanks,” you replied sadly, and dragged your feet over to the booth where you’d been stationed with your friends for the past three hours. You could kick yourself right now. All you wanted was to go home, but instead you were stuck at the bar looking for keys that you weren’ t even sure were there. You looked under the booth, then crawled in and stuck your hand down in the seats hoping maybe the keys had slid down in between. 

“Hello, pretty lady. Come back for more already?” some guy slurred as he stumbled toward you. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye and immediately recognized him as the man who’d spent the majority of the night trying to pick you up. And in turn, you’d spent most of the night trying to get away from him and his awful breath that stank of alcohol, which signalled to you that he’d had way too much to drink. 

“Just trying to find my keys,” you replied, casually and kept sliding your hand around the seats. 

“Well, maybe I could help you with that,” he muttered, in as sultry of a voice as he could muster up and slid his hand up your thigh and onto your ass. 

“What the hell are you doing?” you growled and flipped around, after ripping his hand off you.

“Just trying to get a little play baby.”

“Well find someone who wants to play with you.”

“Aw c’mon, pretty lady. I seen the way you and your friends dance with anything that moves. I just want a little of that attention.”

“And as I have politely told you all night, I’m not interested,” you snapped, using your foot to push him back a few feet. The man glared intently at you and you instantly regretted that last move. 

“Now listen here you-”

“Hey buddy, the lady said no so why don’t you back off,” a voice said from behind the man as a hand landed on his shoulder. You flicked your eyes up to the owner of the voice and you savior. Tall, muscular, and handsome as hell. Honestly, he looked more like he belonged in a movie than here in real life rescuing you from some guy. 

“Why don’t you mind your own business buddy?” the drunk man sneered, shrugging the foreign hand off of his shoulder. Your hero (as you had labeled him in your head) stepped between you and the drunk.

“It is my business when men like you are harassing a woman. So why don’t you scram before I have the other FBI agents in the room book you for attempted assault and harassment?” he replied flashing a gun and credentials. The man took one last look at you over his shoulder before stumbling off toward the door. “Well, that takes care of that,” he muttered straightening up before turning to you and offering a hand to help you out of the booth. “You alright?” 

“Yes,” you replied, taking his hand and pulling yourself out of the booth to stand in front of him. “Thank you so much, I’ve been trying to shake that asshole all night.” 

“Sorry I didn’t notice sooner.”

“It’s ok. He wasn’t being that ballsy earlier.”

“Well, no woman deserves to be treated that way,” he said. “Didn’t I see you leaving with your friends a few minutes ago?”

“Yeah, I put them in a cab to head back to our apartment once I realized I had dropped my keys somewhere in the bar earlier,” you told him as you did another scan of the bar. “I was trying to see if maybe they had slid down into the seat when the drunk bastard started creeping on me again.” You turned your eyes back to your companion and found him kneeling on the ground, pulling your keys out from under the booth. 

“These what you’re looking for?”

“Yes, thank you so much…”

“Sorry, manners slipped my mind. Derek Morgan,” he replied, handing you your keys. 

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), and given that you just essentially rescued me from some creep minutes ago I’m pretty sure your manners are fine,” you teased fiddling with your keys. 

“Like I said, it’s not right to treat ladies that way, especially one’s with smiles as pretty as yours,” he said, flashing a dazzling smile at you. You grinned at him and tucked your hair behind your ear. You were suddenly very aware that you were being watched. Glancing over your shoulder, you noticed a table full of people who were trying to nonchalantly watch the exchange going down between the two of you. 

“Well, I think I’m going to get going. I’ve got to drunks to take care of at home and I wouldn’t want to keep you from your friends any longer, but you might want to tell them to try being more discreet if they plan on watch people,” you chuckled. 

“I can walk you out if you want,” Derek suggested.

“You’ve been nice enough already, and the bartender is a friend so I’ll ask him to. It was nice to meet you, Derek,” you replied. 

“Nice to meet you too, (Y/N),” he said and sauntered off back to his friends. You sighed dreamily and walked up to the bar. 

“Success,” you declared, leaning on the bar, and dangled your keys for Nick to see. 

“Awesome, now I don’t have to scour the bar for those when I close,” he replied washing glasses. 

“Nick, would you mind walking me out to my cab? It’s kind of late,” you asked, slipping said keys back in your purse where they belonged. 

“Didn’t Derek offer to walk you out?”

“How did you know that? And second question, you know him?” 

“First, I’m a bartender I hear everything. I was about to step in for you earlier, but Derek was ordering a drink and said he would handle it. Second, I don’t know him per say, but the crowd of FBI agents over there are regulars,” Nick explained as he set the glass down and picked up another. “He’s a big hit with girls, but I don’t think he’s seeing anyone.”

“I know what you’re implying, and knock it off. He’s way out of my league,” you shot back. 

“C’mon, (Y/N/N). You, my friend, are a catch and he’s a great guy who knows how to treat a woman right.”

“What do you want me to do, Nick? Walk over there and drop my number on a napkin in front of him?”

“Or you can give it to him now since he’s walking over here,” Nick mumbled, suddenly very busy cleaning that glass. 

“(Y/N),” Derek said as he walked up beside you. 

“Hi again,” you replied. 

“Stop me if I’m being too forward, but I was wondering if I could maybe take you out to get a coffee?”

“Like right now?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Derek nodded. “It’s almost one o’clock in the morning.”

“Well, I am a man who believes in living in the present,” he replied chuckling, “but I do see your point.” 

“You know what, I know a great diner that makes a mean cup of coffee and a fantastic milkshake,” you mentioned adjusting the strap on your purse. 

“Well, Miss (Y/L/N), let’s go,” he said grinning as he offered you his arm. You giggled as you took it. Who knew you’d find your knight in shining armor as a result of losing your keys under a booth? 


A/N: ok so when I was writing the first part it suddenly hit me what the conversation with the team would be like after Morgan saves the reader and goes back to the table, but I couldn’t figure out how to work it into the story so I’m including it as a bonus scene. Enjoy :)

“Nice to meet you too, (Y/N),” Derek muttered and strolled back over to the table the other BAU members were perched around, still thinking about (Y/N)’s beautiful eyes and smile. 

“So, is she prettier upon closer inspection?” Rossi teased as Morgan leaned against the table. 

“What are you talking about?” Morgan asked, snapping out of his stupor. 

“Derek, c’mon you are sitting which a group of profilers. Don’t think we haven’t noticed that you’ve been staring at her since we got here,” JJ replied, waggling her eyebrows at him. That was true, the team had arrived about an hour ago to continue their night of bar hopping and that was when Derek had noticed (Y/N). She had thrown the BAU’s resident player off of his game, big time. Instead of approaching and mingling, he’d decided to take the road of observing watching the way her smile lit up her face as she laughed with her friends and swung her hips. 

“We also agreed never to profile each other and I haven’t been staring,” Derek grumbled. 

“Right, so what’s her name?” Penelope asked leaning toward him. 


“And I’m assuming you got her number, so when are you seeing her again?”

“I didn’t get her number,” he replied. A collective groan spread around the table, while Spencer smiled in the corner and extended his hand. 

“Told you, now fork it over all of you,” he said victoriously, taking a ten dollar bill from each member of the team. 


“They bet that you’d have a date and her number by the time you walked back over here, and I noted the fact that you were ‘off your game’ as you would say, so I bet them you wouldn’t and I definitely won,” Reid explained, smiling smugly. 

 “Chocolate Thunder, bet aside I expect you to march back over there and score yourself a date else I hack her phone and call her for you,” Penelope threatened, poking his chest.

“I’ll show you who’s not off his game,” Derek grumbled, downing one of the shots that had been for the table before spinning and marching toward the bar where (Y/N) was chatting up the bartender. 

“Atta boy!” Prentis shouted.

“WHOO! GO CHOCOLATE THUNDER!” Penelope cheered.

Good Girl CH 1: Tequila and Bad Decisions

Chapter 2, CH 3CH 4, CH 5. CH 6, CH 7, CH 8, CH 9, CH 10, CH 11, CH 12 CH 13, CH 14, CH 15, CH 16, CH 17, CH 18, CH 19, CH 20, CH 21, CH 22, CH 23, CH 24, CH 25

I scan the crowd of both Asians and Americans but regardless of races I can say confidently that they are all pretty shady. My eyes go to my grinning friend Jihyo, who has somehow convinced me to come to a very nice club that just happens to be crawling with creeps. Some of her other friends had told her how amazing the club, EXO, was but seem to forget that you have to either look really slutty or really rich to get in. That is how I ended up having to take off my jacket and stockings and now have to stand in line in the freezing cold in nothing but a tight leather skirt and one of Jihyo’s crop tops that could pass for a bra. She is in a similar skimpy out fit, but she is actually wearing her only pair of shorts like that which meant I had to wear the skirt.

“How much longer?” I groan as I begin jogging in place, something I found easy in her five-inch heels.

She rolls her fake green eyes at me, “We haven’t been waiting that long.”

“It’s been an hour. What are they waiting for?” I glance down the line toward the closed doors.

“I thought you didn’t wanna come?” She teases with a confident grin.

I scoff at her, “I still don’t, it just happens to be better than freezing my ass off out here.”

“Maybe if you go shake it up there we can get in.” She gestures to the large bouncer standing outside the main door.

“Fuck that, I would much rather fuck Hoseok to get in,” Jihyo grins at the mention of her friend that works in the club and also happens to have a massive crush on me.

“Would you please? I offered but he didn’t believe me that you would follow threw.”

I glare at her, “You offered what?”

“Your precious virginity,” She grins at me evilly.

“Ugh don’t say stuff like that.”

She continues to tease me, “What, can’t handle the truth that you’re a 17 year old virgin?”

“Not all of us can be lucky enough to lose their virginity in a school bathroom when we were 14,” I snap back. She just grins at my mean words. “I can’t believe that you offered my virginity to some guy to get into a club,” I pause as I rethink my words, “That’s a lie, I expect nothing less from you.”

“I learned my bitchiness from you.”

“I’m giving this place five more minutes than I’m leaving, with or without you.”

She fakes hurt, “You would leave me to get drunk at a club by myself?”

“Yes, what will you do without someone to take care of your drunken self?” I pat the younger girl’s head.

Just then the doors to the club opened and the bouncer starts weeding through the people lined up in front of him. I’m not surprised when lots of the guys or undeniably less attractive girls start getting denied and pushed out of the line as others get to go inside. When it’s our turn to be checked out, again, I’m not surprised when the bouncer waves us in without as much of a glance at the fake IDs we worked hard to get, though I understand why. Jihyo is an undeniable beauty with her long raven locks and perfect doll like face. With the body of a fitness goddess and legs for miles, I have always envied her 5’6 height. Standing at a small 5 foot but thankfully 5’5 in heels, I’m still dwarfed next to the beautiful girl. Though I won’t admit it out loud I’m quiet a looker myself.

Being from a Korean father and a mother who is a mutt herself I was lucky enough to inherit some very good qualities from different races. The nice curves and wavy locks that I received from my dark skinned mom seem to fit my cat like eyes I got for my dad. Though I also got my short height from my dad’s side of the family too. My hair is a blend of them, giving me perfect loose, black waves that hang daintily against my back.

“Jooyoung!” Jihyo brings me out of my thoughts to have me gawk at the massive club with her. The bar is to the left; circle booths line two of the other walls while the huge DJ booth takes up most of the other wall. Lights flash as the music blares through the massive speakers making it hard to hear what Ji is trying to say to me. Realizing that I can’t hear a word she is saying she just nods her head in direction of the bar. I follow, our hands locked together to make sure we don’t loose each other in the thick crowd. Once we reach the bar Ji manages to find an empty stool that she quickly places me on. She stands close behind me, her hands resting on the bar, locking me in and all the others out. Even though I’m older Ji is taller and a little bit bigger than me, something that has made her a little over protective, though I don’t really need it in places like this. Even though she is always the one bringing me to them and the trouble along with her.

“Four shots of tequila!” She yells to the hot bartender, who grins at us. Farther down behind the bar we see none other than Hoseok busy mixing drinks and flirting with customers. So different from his normal cutesy self, he seems so much hotter with his hair pushed back and a sly smirk on his face.

“Damn,” I accidently say out loud. Ji follows my eyes and grins. That grin stays as the bartender places the four shots in front of us. Giving me two and keeping two for her self, Ji raises the first one and holds it up to me expectantly. I hold my little glass to hers’.

“To getting drunk!” She clinks our glasses and moves to drink but stops as I begin downing mine, “And to getting layed!” With that she does hers’ in one go like me. We both slam the shot glass back down on the counter, grimacing as the awful liquid burns its way down our throats. I glare at her little add in to our toast.

“I’ll sleep with someone when I want to!”

“Who said it was for you? I need some fun too, it’s been way to long.” She teases as she rests her head on my shoulder, grabbing her other shot and, again, holding it up to mine. “How about to you just doing something that will get you out of your funk and make you that happy go lucky girl I met in elementary?”

I give her a soft smile, clinking our glasses and down the shot. “Four more!”

“That’s what I’m talking about!”

“I’m so going to regret this in the morning.”

“Oh shut up, when was the last time you got actually drunk? You are the best person to be around when your drunk, you’re just so cute and friendly.”

“I turn into a child. That’s not how I want to be in a public area with creepy guys all over the place.”

“You’re a step a head of most since those killer instincts seem to keep working threw your buzz. I wouldn’t question anything if Freddy Kruger himself came up and offered me a ride home. But you, you can see threw the best con man after downing a bottle of tequila.”

“It’s a gift.”

“One of few,” She tease as she holds up a shot, “To me becoming a better judge of character and to you becoming more careless. I’m tired of being the only one walking up in a stranger’s bed.”

As more and more shots are downed and things wrong with my life are listed I have never been so grateful but so annoyed with this girl at the same time. She is the only person I share anything with, the only person who even somewhat knows what’s going on in the mess I call my head. But as she stands there telling me all the things I should be worried about or work on I get kind of angry. After having enough shots for now, I pull the tall girl to the dance floor with me, hoping to shut her pretty mouth up. We dance like there is no tomorrow, forgetting all that is troubling us; actually I seem to be the only one with troubles.

As hours fly by of dancing and more shots here and there my mind begins to fog. I stop caring about the unknown hands that grope me, too focused on my high and the music. My feet are numb and my legs feel like jello but I some how continue to stay on my feet. Jihyo is a grinning mess in front of me, twirling around and stumbling every few minutes. It has been along time since I’ve felt this good, this free, like nothing could ever hold me back. Jihyo would have usually abandoned me by this time and I would take that as an okay to find a way home but not tonight. I am no one’s babysitter tonight!

Suddenly the crowd starts moving toward the DJ stand, they all huddle, trying to see something that must be pretty interesting. Being the nosy girl she is, Ji tries to drag me along with the rest of the crowd to find out what is going on. I try to pull her away from the gawking people, knowing whatever it is, it can’t be good.

Running away isn’t a possibility with Ji trying to pull me the other way and the crowd pulling me as a whole. As my instincts scream at me to run, the sound of gunshots can heard above the music. The pull of the crowd towards the noise is gone as people try to avoid the bullets that are flying in every direction. My eyes scan the crowd, seeing at least a dozen people on the floor either crying out for help or already dead. Blood covers the almost empty dance floor. Without another thought I start dragging Jihyo to the bathroom as the rest of the crowd breaks out in a panic as they all drunkenly scramble to the front door. Some how through my very drunken state I’m able to maneuver Jihyo and myself through the small bathroom window, out into the empty alleyway. The cold nips at my cheeks as the wind blows it’s freezing air around us.

Jihyo lands on her butt, “Ya! That hurt!” She whines loudly.

“Shut up you idiot!” I scan the alley for anyone else who exited the club, finding a van waiting. On the other side of a massive garbage bin the back door to the club busts open. A long line of extremely attractive guys strut out, the last one, who is taller than the rest, has something large, and strangely human shaped, hanging over his shoulder. I slam Jihyo and myself up against the wall and pry that they don’t see us. To be completely honest, I couldn’t careless about my own safety but Jihyo has so much to live for, I don’t want to risk her life.

“Joo-ah!” She calls out drunkenly, drawing the attention of the last of the men.

God dammit you dumb bitch! I love you, but you dumb bitch! I scream in my head as I hear their footsteps coming our way. In a desperate moment I whisper an apology as I punch her across the face, knocking the drunk girl out easily. Quickly I throw the stray trash bags on top of her, hiding her from who ever is coming. I’m crouching down next to where I’m hiding her, behind the garbage bin when someone comes rushing down the alley way on my side. The person stops when he sees the group of men coming his way. I can easily see the terror on the poor man’s face as he reaches one of the over hanging lights just a few feet away from me.

My heart stops when another gunshot rings out in the alley. I watch as the man drops to his knees, clutching his stomach his eyes drift away from his killers to me. The anxiety building up in my chest almost bursts when the gun fires again, this time hitting the man’s forehead, making him collapse, his eyes never leaving mine. But as if my heart knows what is to come it pounds harder than I’ve ever felt it before, as the footsteps continue toward us.

The suspense of them finding me begins to annoy me. My chest is hurting from the tightness of my anxiety and my thighs don’t appreciate being stuck in a low wall sit for this long. But it finally happens. A man dressed in all black stands over the body for a minute before crouching down and going through his pockets. He pulls out the dead man’s wallet and flips it open, automatically finding something that makes him sigh.

“Poor bastard had a family. What a shame, should watch wear he wanders.” The man mumbles to himself, dropping the wallet on the man’s chest. I debate on whether I’m a horrible person or not for not busting out in tears at the fact an innocent man was just murdered in front of me and that I could possibly next. The low amount of empathy I normally have for people seems to have reached an all time low when I realize how I feel absolutely nothing for the dead man in front of me.

But instead I study the killer. He looks young, but from the way he carries himself I feel as if he must be older. In a nice suit, which was obviously made for him, he is extremely handsome. The uncaring expression on his child like face tells me this is something he has done many times before, something that should disturb me more than is does. Just as he is about to stand up he pauses, his eyes not really focused on anything. I resist the urge to scream as he tilts his head and his cat like eyes find me. “Hello there baby girl,” The cat man purrs with a threating yet attractive smile.

20, 46, and 92 with Kraglin

20: You look amazing tonight
46: Dance with me
92: you make me happy

One good thing about being a Ravager was that sometimes you got to do some pretty fun jobs. This job meant you got to dress up. You couldn’t remember the last time you got to put on a dress like this one. Yondu had put you on this job. You were supposed to go to a party a rich official was throwing and charm your way in. While you charmed and distracted him the other members of the crew would rob him blind.

You were getting dressed right now in a beautiful gown Yondu had managed to get a hold of. It was long and red with beautiful jewels covering the front. You admired the beautiful silk material for a while before putting it on. You tried to zip it failing as you couldn’t reach it. You just ignored it for the moment slipping on a pair of tall gold heels. You were putting on light makeup when there was a knock st the door.

“Who is it?” You called out finished up with your eyeliner.

“It’s me… I mean Kraglin.” A shaky voice answered from the other side.

You walked to the door opening it for him. You were glad it was him you didn’t know if you really wanted anyone else to see you all dressed up. His eyes scanned your face and your body taking in the sight of you like this.

“Hey… Kraglin…. Kraglin,” you waved your hand in front of his face, “could you zip this for me?”

He snapped out of his nodding his head quickly. You turned around and he studied your bare back. He moved to zip the dress his fingertips flitting across your skin. A shiver went up your spine as he moved his hands back down. They lingered on your hips for a second before he pulled back.

“You look amazing tonight.” He murmured softly as you turned to face him.

You gave him a bright smile brushing a loose hair behind your ear. He stepped closer to you putting his hands on your waist. He was still taking in your appearance.

“Dance with me?” He finally asked wanting to be your first dance of the night.

“Id love to.” You moved your hands around his neck finally able to without pulling him down in your heels.

He swayed with you gently making sure not to mess up your dress. He couldn’t stop himself as you gave you a small kiss. You kissed back careful not to mess up any of your makeup. When he pulled back he licked his lips tasting your strawberry lipgloss.

“You make me happy.” You admitted running a hand over his scruffy cheek.

“You make me happy too.,” he laughed out a goofy smile on his face, “remember that okay? Don’t leave me for a rich old guy.”

“I don’t know…..” you started teasingly only stopping when you noticed the actual worry hidden in his eyes, “I promise I won’t. Who leaves the bad boy for the old guy?”

He smiled down at you his eyes still taking you in. He’d fallen for you when you were covered in oil and Ravager garb. Dressed like this though, you seemed like an angel. He couldn’t deny that you were already out of his league but like this he wasn’t even sure why you’d pick him.

“I’m so lucky to have you.” You muttered to him and he felt even more undeserving as you kissed him once more before finishing getting ready.

Black, No Sugar


i have a history paper due tomorrow and you’re sitting beside one of the only outlets in this shop and also your taste in coffee is shit” (or something along those lines)

warnings: none 
word count: 1842
a/n: for the anon that asked for a coffee shop au. i hope you like it! 

The coffee shop is quiet. It’s one of the few reasons Bucky’s always here – it’s an escape from the usual mayhem at the tower, where Sam and Wanda are pranking him or Natasha and Clint are watching movies on full volume or Tony and Steve are yelling at each other regarding his accommodations. During the day, at least. At night, it serves as an elusion to his nightmares. A cup of coffee to keep him awake and some time alone to think, it’s all he needs.

He hasn’t slept in three days and his face is showing it: red-rimmed eyes with purple shadows beneath them. The lord knows he needs sleep, but the second he closes his eyes he’s clutching his sheets with knuckles as white as his face becomes, struggling to get air down his lungs as his heart threatens to hammer out of his chest and his throat feels like he’s swallowed hot rocks because he’s been screaming so loud.

It’s been three days since he’s so much as laid down in his bed, opting instead to come sit in the mildly comfortable chair of the small coffee shop across the street. It’s just past five in the evening, but the skies are grey and a mixture of rain and snow is pattering on the window beside Bucky. He stares outside, watching people walk past with shopping bags in their hands, squinting from the snow in their face, the occasional twinkle of a Christmas light shining in their eye.

“Mind if I sit here?” He turns around, bleary eyes settling on the form of a girl, maybe a couple years younger than him, with cheeks reddened by the winter wind and snowflakes dotting her hair and scarf.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, and almost reflexively his eyes scan the rest of the coffee shop. It’s full, but there are still enough empty seats for the girl to find one for herself, and anyone who wants to be near him despite the various other options is usually a threat. When he looks back at the girl, she’s flushing. “I don’t mean to intrude,” she says, gesturing to the outlet beside him. “It’s just, I have a paper to finish and the only other outlet in the coffee shop is beside them–“ she points to a group of formally dressed people, taking up all the seats around their table.

Despite his desire to be alone, Bucky finds himself nodding, and with a small, sincere “Thank you,” the girl sits down into the seat across from his, pulling out her laptop.

It’s silent after that. People filter in and out of the place, eventually dwindling down to maybe three or four, and Bucky and the girl. It’s dark out now, the snow beginning to pile up, and there are no more people walking outside for Bucky to look at.

“Do you do that often?” He turns to look at the girl. At some point she’d gotten up to get herself some coffee. Bucky’s own cup sat on the table, empty.

“Do what?” Bucky cringes at his own voice. It’s hoarse and raspy, like he hasn’t spoken in days. He hasn’t really. Most of the time he’s spent either shut up in his room, avoiding everyone, or in the coffee shop, people watching. No one’s talked to him until now.

A part of him wishes he could strike up conversations the way he used to be able to – the way James Buchanan Barnes used to be able to; with a flirty smile and the right words always up his sleeve. But the Winter Soldier didn’t converse. He– it– didn’t smile, or talk much, or feel much. Bucky’s not the Winter Soldier, not anymore, but he’s not James any more either, where the only thing he had to worry about was making sure he had enough money for Steve’s medication. He’s something in between, an indefinite identity. And god, he would do anything, anything, to be something more, but every time he goes to bed, he’s reminded of his past, of all the terrible things he’s done, of–

“Watch people.” He’s pulled from his thoughts by the girl, who’s looking at him with an expression on his face that he can’t quite place. Her voice is soft and calming, and it’s been so long since he’s heard someone talk to him without exasperation or annoyance or sadness or pity. He likes it.

He shrugs. “Sometimes,” he says, voice clipped. He wants to say more, keep the conversation going because it could be the first proper conversation he’s had in months, but its reflex to not talk to strangers, to not trust strangers. Her face falls, taking in his body language, the way his shoulders are hunched and his red eyes are scanning the room every now and then. The expression only lasts a fraction of a second, then she’s smiling and nodding and looking back at her computer screen, but Bucky catches it.

“What’s your name?” He blurts.

She looks surprised as she looks at him again over the top of her laptop, before her features settle into warm smile. “Y/N. It’s Y/N. What’s yours?”


And then they’re talking. He asks her what she’s working on. It’s a paper, on the Second World War, she answers, and is he interested? And then he’s telling her all about it, he’s a history major and he’s done all sorts of readings on it, and actually that fact is wrong and this is what actually happened, and for the first time in so long he feels relaxed. He’s tired as hell and the lord knows he needs to sleep but in the moment he feels nothing but calm, and maybe a little bit excited because there’s a girl in front of him listening to him, looking at him with the most genuine expression of interest on her face, and god, for once he feels like he’s helping someone, even if it’s a history student that has a paper due tomorrow.

He watches her as she notes down everything he’s saying, from the smallest facts to books that she should take a look at, with pure admiration on his face, because this is the first person to not cower away from his blank, tired face or talk to him in clipped, cautionary tones or look at him with pity in their eyes. There’s a feeling bubbling up in his chest and it’s warm and comfortable and – and he’s smiling.  

“What?” She asks, and there’s a flush rising to her cheeks and Bucky realizes that she’s caught him staring.

He coughs, eyes widening fractionally before his expression goes back to stoic. (The warmth in his chest is still there, though.) “Nothing.” He looks away.

“Bucky,” she says. He turns his head back towards her, eyebrows up in question. “Thank you. So much.” She smiles and he’s smiling back again, and she stands up and begins to pack up and his eyes go wide. He’s being stupid, he knows as much, but he doesn’t want her to leave.

She packs everything up and then turns to him. “How do you like your coffee?”


She laughs, then repeats, “How do you like your coffee?”

He scratches his forehead. “Black, no sugar, why?”

She scrunches up her nose in disgust, and Bucky finds himself laughing. It’s a foreign sound, even to his ears. He watches her rush towards the counter and come back with a drink in her hand. She thrusts it towards him and he wants to say no, that he can’t take it, but she’s holding it out to him with a pleading expression, so he reaches up and wraps his gloved fingers around it.  

“Thanks,” he whispers.

She smiles and leaves without another word.

He’s back at the coffee shop everyday after that, half hoping to find the girl there again. She isn’t there. Not the next day, or the day after, or the day after that, or the day after that. It’s been five days since he’s met her – Y/N  – and the initial disappointment that filled him has slowly ebbed away. Bucky’s back to staring out the window, watching people go by.

It’s nearly eleven p.m., and Bucky’s getting up to throw out his fifth cup of coffee before he heads back to the tower. His coat is wrapped tightly around him, gloved hands shoved into his pockets, and eyes cast down. He about ready to leave the shop, standing with his shoulder ready to push the door, when it opens. Bucky barely has time to register what’s happening before there are arms wrapped around him, squeezing.

His first reflex is to push the person off of him, until he hears their voice.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” It’s Y/N. She lets him go and takes a step back with the brightest smile on her face, thrusting a wad of papers towards him. “I got an A, all thanks to you!”

He feels the laughter bubbling up inside of him, and then he’s laughing, hard, and there are tears forming inside his eyes and he can’t stop laughing and she’s smiling.

“What? What’s so funny?”  

He waits until his laughter dies down, then, “I’ve never seen someone so happy about a grade, is all.”

She flushes, and punches his arm. He laughs again. “I’m joking, great job.”

Y/N smiles, and he turns to head out again because as much as he wants to stay here, he really needs to get back to the tower.

“Bucky?” He stops. “Meet me here tomorrow, at seven?” He smiles, nods, and leaves, heading back to the tower.

The first thing Bucky notices when he enters the coffee shop is that he’s the only customer. There’s nobody there but two baristas who smile and welcome him.

The second thing he notices is that he’s the only customer. Y/N’s not there. Maybe she’s late, he reminds himself. She’s probably on her way. He makes his way over to his usual table.

The third thing he notices is the cup of coffee on the table, holding down a folded slip of paper. Bucky’s name is scrawled on it.

With eyebrows knit together, he takes a seat and unfolds the slip. There’s a number written across the top, then a note.

Hi Bucky,

I’m so sorry I had to run, and I didn’t have your number to let you know. Here’s mine. I promise I’ll make it up to you: Saturday at 8 at the diner across the street? 

Sorry again,

P.S. The coffee is just the way you like it. =)

He can’t stop the smile that makes its way onto his face as he finishes reading the note. He sits down, shoulders feeling lighter, and takes a sip of the coffee.

It’s black. No sugar.

Bucky pulls out his phone, heart pounding with a rush of anxiety and excitement as he types:

It’s a date.


HamBurr Grindr AU

Having missed crossing paths with each other during their undergrad years (at Columbia and Princeton respectively) Burr and Hamilton stumble across one another in a very unexpected way…

Alexander and Aaron are both attending the same law school when they come into contact with each other. They’re the same age, but Aaron is probably a year or so ahead of Alex in the program (thanks to the whole prodigy thing). They probably pass each other on the way to class uncountable amounts of times, since the buildings aren’t exactly that extensive when you’re focusing on one discipline. Aaron has no idea who Alexander is by sight, though maybe he’s heard his name circling around–because there’s no way Alexander goes completely unknown anywhere he goes. Alexander has certainly heard of Aaron Burr because of the Burr legacy, but likewise has no idea what he looks like.

So here comes the kicker.

Alexander’s been on Grindr for at a year or two, probably since the app first got big. He’s become a Grindr Expert™ by now and 85% of the time he’s scrolling through the app he considers deleting it. That percentage rises every time he gets a DTF message from some white 18 year old who insists he’s “into latinos haha :)” He rarely even uses it anymore, but some nights, God forbid, he’s horny and feeling like a one night stand, so he keeps the app.

Aaron, on the other hand, has never downloaded the app until (let’s say Angelica bc I love that friendship) Angelica takes his phone from him and downloads it for him one night after deciding she’s tired of Burr’s drunken complaints about not knowing how to find gay men. Burr’s charming with the ladies, ofc, (and men, too, when he gets the chance) but he’s not out of the closet so approaching men in person is always a risk he’s unwilling to take unless he’s at a specific type of club or bar. 

Needless to say, Aaron is Overwhelmed by all the hyper-masculine, attractive men he finds on the app. They’re all so close, too. He recognizes a few and that…that’s insane. Who knew his Constitutional Law TA was gay?  He gets a few messages almost instantly, most of them asking for facepics or just sending him unsolicited dick pics and Aaron gets a big fat Reality Check about the Truth about Grindr. It’s a shallow hookup app and Aaron quickly learns how to discern the various men and stops expecting too much. He mostly uses it to flirt in chats, letting himself relax because it’s not like he has anything to lose. His face isn’t entirely in the profile photo and he doesn’t talk to anyone he recognizes. He’s going to be safe; no one will find out who he is.

Alexander, in the first few months as a law student, has a lot less time to be involved in the app. He honestly forgets about it for a long while. Then, one Friday night, Alexander is feeling decidedly horny and mostly free of homework so he opens the app. Being in a new place gives him new faces to scan through, though there are still too many faceless abs for his tastes–not that Alex has anything against the abs, but it’s the principal of the thing. He’s not ashamed to be on the app and would scroll through it for shits and giggles with John or Peggy in the line for Starbucks without giving a fuck if anyone saw. His sexuality is no secret and he isn’t a fan of the anonymous culture on Grindr. After all, if you do hookup, it’s not like you’re not going to eventually see each other, so it’s pointless unless you’re just catfishing.

Anyway, back to this Friday night.

He’s scanning the prospects of the new geographical location with a critical eye from the comforts of his room. Like everywhere else, there are jocky white guys who didn’t want any messages from Asians or Hispanics. Alex blocks them to get them out of the way up front. 

That’s when he stumbles upon Aaron’s profile.

Technically it’s a headless photo that Alexander would normally dismiss automatically. But something about the fact that he’s still wearing clothes makes him tap to view more information, and then Aaron’s stupidly attractive grin with his hoodie string between perfectly straight teeth catches his attention even more up close. Everything about the body posture is casual, but Alex can’t seem to look away from Aaron’s mouth. It’s probably the whole reason Aaron chose to have that as his photo. Alexander finds himself desperately wanting to see the expression in his eyes above that smile.

His description informs Alex of exactly why he’s amongst the headless torso crowd: “Not out, no hosting.” At least he’s honest about it, while everyone else just allows their chiseled abs to speak for themselves about their insecurity. Despite not being out, the rest of Aaron’s profile is certainly…confident. If not cheesy and cocksure. Someone in Aaron’s life had laughed at those lines and he’d rolled with it. As much as he would normally scoff at such a description (and he still sort of does), something about this one felt more charming. Alexander blames that smile.

Aaron’s pretty close, a little less than two football fields distance away. They’re the same age, and Alex can’t help but wonder if they go to the same school. Nothing on his profile reveals anything about it, but he lets himself fantasize anyway. He spends five minutes going through more profiles before coming back to Aaron’s like a beacon. He’s throwing out his facepic rule, but he’s interested enough that he doesn’t let his pride get in the way of sending Aaron a message.

Aaron is as charming as his profile leads on, but not nearly as cheesy. They go back and forth with each other for nearly an hour, playing off one another in ways that get Alexander’s gears turning mentally and physically, so he takes the plunge and offers to host for the night.

Aaron has yet to actually sleep with anyone from the app. He stares at the last question from Alex for five minutes, wondering if he should make some excuse like he always did when that question was brought up in chat. He’s not even sure why Alex asked that question, or why he messaged Aaron in the first place. The first line in his description knocks Aaron’s profile out of the running, but for whatever reason he’d talked to him anyway. He wasn’t going to ask why that was, and Alex didn’t mention it. The cautious part of Aaron’s brain told him not to agree with it and just bow out, but Alex had caught Aaron’s attention, too, and he seriously considered it. It looked like Alex was close, and what would be the point of having the app if he didn’t actually use it the way it was intended? Alex didn’t seem nearly as creepy as most of the other guys on the app; he was clever and quick witted and a bit infuriating and… He texts Angelica, telling her his plans before he even messages Alex back. She sends back a row of clapping emojis and Aaron takes that as a sign to just go for it. He promises to message her as soon as it’s over and then finally replies to Alex’s message. “What’s the address?”

He can’t believe he’s actually doing it, but he arrives at Alex’s apartment with his STD test results in his pocket and nerves pulsing through his body. He’s read plenty of horror stories and while he’s pretty fit and can protect himself to an extent, he has no clue what’s really awaiting him behind the door. Of course, it’s Alex, looking just like his profile photo, innocently wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, and he pulls Aaron into his apartment with an eagerness that betrays his initially calm outward expression. They exchange some greetings and a few words, but Alex gets right to the point and they share their test results: both clean. “I have condoms, either way,” Alex informs him nonchalantly, returning the papers and turning his piercing gaze back on Aaron.

Alexander is definitely pleased with the rest of Aaron’s face. He’s not smirking like he was in the photo, but he’s just as handsome without it. After stripping Aaron of his button-up, Alex finds that his shirtless torso is also worthy of Grindr anon fame, and it makes Alex all the more heated to know that he’s getting the chance to see it in person. The sex is intense, with waves of slow, almost cautious tenderness that builds in passionate, desperate urges. Aaron walks away considering his first Grindr hookup a smashing success with that smirk stretching his lips and Alex watches Aaron leave knowing he’ll be messaging him again in the near future.

Insert Alexander casually at Starbucks with one of his classmates before his first class the next week. He’s in line to order when his classmate spots Aaron Burr in the back of the room, focused intently on his laptop with headphones in his ears and textbooks surrounding the table.

“I’m not surprised he works like that. He’s the guy who got into Princeton at 17,” his friend supplies, even though Alexander has already heard of the story of Aaron Burr, is perfectly aware of those facts, thank you very much.

He was not aware that Aaron Burr was on Grindr. Until now.

Alexander frantically pulls up his phone, shoving his classmate ahead of him in line because he has way more Important Things to check right now. He opens the app and taps on Aaron’s profile to check the distance.

25 feet away.

He had sex with Aaron fucking Burr.

He had sex with the prodigy of Princeton college.

Ditching his classmate, he books it so fast out of Starbucks he nearly takes out an entire table of girls before he makes his escape. Thankfully, Aaron’s headphones make him oblivious to the commotion.

After his class Alexander probably calls John or one of the others to scream about how he accidentally had sex with Aaron Burr and John (sarcastically) informs him that if he’d only looked at the name on the STD papers he’d know who he was having sex with and Alexander hangs up the phone. John is right, but Alex isn’t here to talk about his oversights right now.

Alexander can’t stop thinking about that Friday night. He wants to message Aaron again, but knowing who he really is has his fingers itching to bring the topic up. He’ll never be able to see Aaron on campus again without doing so—and besides, they’re most likely going to run into each other at some point! They’re both law students. He should just say something now.

So he finally works up the nerve to just message Aaron later that day. He can be the instigator again, no big deal. Maybe Aaron will be cool about it.

Aaron checks his phone in the middle of his Constitutional Law class when he feels it vibrate in his jacket pocket. He sits up front (the nerd) so he has to be discrete, but when he sees the Grindr notification a flash of fear goes through him and he jerks his eyes up to the TA; please don’t let him be messaging Aaron in the middle of class.

Thankfully the TA doesn’t spare him a glance, so Aaron feels a little safer. Either way, he turns the brightness on his phone all the way down so no one can see the screen besides him and opens the app. It’s a message from Alex and this time Aaron feels a much more pleasant flutter before he taps open the chat.

That pleasant feeling instantly crumbles; his heart feels like its dropping to the pit of his stomach when he reads the message.

“So…you’re Aaron Burr?”

[Honestly there are a MILLION different ways to approach this AU, and I came up with about a hundred in my head as I was writing this. If you have any ideas please feel free to talk to me about it/add to it/make your own cause I wanna see all of it.]

*photos edited by me

Pretty boy // Shin Hoseok - Part 1

Originally posted by soybeantree

It was the end of your first day of your last year of high school. Senior year. This year is supposed to be filled with good memories of fun times in class, new friends, prom, significant others, etc. That last one you decided to put aside, you weren’t really looking for anyone at the moment and you really didn’t want to get into a relationship that might ruin your year.

Walking into your last class you scanned the room full of familiar faces, all people who you have spent the past three years with, stopping on a certain someone. Her back was faced towards you, familiar enough for you to know it’s her. You smiled to yourself, walking over to her.

“Best friend!” You yelled out, causing her to turn around. Her eyes met yours, her mouth breaking into a wide smile.

“Y/N!” Jihye ran towards you, engulfing you in a hug. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too!” You laughed lifting your head up from her shoulder to see your other friends staring at both of you.

“You guys literally just saw each other like two days ago,” Kihyun complained, “and i haven’t seen you in weeks. Where’s my hug?”

You laughed, letting go Jihye to hug Kihyun. Kihyun is your guy best friend. You met him in the beginning of freshman year when you got paired up with him to complete a project. It would seem like you were the one who did most of the work but you both did an equal amount of work and got a high grade. Even though the project was only 2 weeks long, you found out you seemed to really enjoy his company. You thought he was a caring, sweet guy, and sometimes he could be a little too over protective, but that’s what you grew to love about him, and you were glad you did, because he turned out to be a great best friend.

Keep reading

Elijah looked over at the person who was wandering around his home. “I’d ask you not to drip water onto that rug, it is quite old but we seem past that.” His eyes scanned over the other figure for a moment before he rested back on his laurels. “Is there something I can help you with, or perhaps you were looking for one of my siblings?” Elijah hadn’t been out long, but he wasn’t one who particularly liked surprises of any sort.
Young Gods | Chapter 29: house of doubt
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Hey kru, thanks for your patience while I worked on this chapter! Let me know what you think. 

“Okay,” Clarke said when she was sure her voice would be steady. She pushed herself off the bed and folded her arms. “We’re doing this tonight. We don’t have any other choice. If Pike kills Lexa, it’s over for all of us. So this is it.” She scanned the group of her friends, searching their eyes for traces of doubt or fear. She saw plenty of the latter, but none of the former, only determination. Still, she had to ask: “If any of you aren’t prepared for this, for any reason, this is your last chance to bow out.” She gestured to the door. “I won’t judge you for wanting to stay safe and protect your family. But we don’t have room for anyone who isn’t 100 percent committed.”

Slowly, her friends clambered to their feet. Clarke felt the blood drain out of her face—oh god, were they all leaving? But none of them headed for the door. She felt love glow to life in her chest, love for all of these people, her friends, her pack, who had been with her through so much and were about to follow her into danger yet again.

“We’re with you,” Monty said quietly.

“We’re with you, Clarke,” said Miller, at his side.

In a jumble of low but sincere voices, the rest of the Delinquents followed suit.

“With you, Clarke.”

“With you.”

“We’re with you.”

Even Raven rose, yawning and stretching ostentatiously before saying, “Yeah, I’m with you, I guess. Got nothing better to do.”

By the time they were done, tears were running down Clarke’s face and she was swallowing back ugly sobs. It had been a long time since she had felt so surrounded with love and trust, longer than she could remember—but it was akin, in some way, to the feeling of Lexa’s arms around her. It was as though her pack, her kru, had wrapped her in a metaphysical hug and promised her that they would follow her, would fight and die at her side, for a cause in which they all believed. But it was more than that, she realized.

At first I thought home was a place that didn’t exist anymore, Clarke thought. But then I found a new home in Polis, with Lexa—and in time, my old one came back to me too.

It took her a little while to get control of herself again, aided by Lexa’s thumb tracing soothing circles on the small of her back, and her mate’s scent gently filtering into her nose. At last, she said, “You know the signal. You know what’s at stake. Be safe, be smart, and watch each other’s backs. I’ll see all of you when this is over.” She paused, sucked in a breath, sent up a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that her will be done.

“May we meet again.”

Come on a journey with me

As I figure out how to scan and digitally color a traditional drawing. I don’t normally do mixed-media stuff like this; I either work entirely digitally or entirely traditionally. So this was a learning experience for me. 

I’ve been working on this drawing of Venom all evening. I didn’t originally intend for it to be scanned and colored, but I’d already done it in blue pencil, and I liked how it was turning out, so why not?

Unfortunately, this was done in my personal sketchbook, which isn’t perforated for tearing out drawings. I had to cut it out in order to get a good scan quality. 

A tip for anyone who doesn’t know: When you work in non-repro blue pencil, you can scan your piece into your computer without any of the pencil showing up! BUT, when you scan it, the scanner must be set to Black and White. Otherwise the blue pencil still shows up. I didn’t know this at first, so I want to spread the knowledge to anyone who is similarly confused as to why their non-repro pencil is totally being repro’d. 

(*copic) I use sketchbook Pro, which has built-in copic marker “brushes”. They are very useful for this kind of coloring, since they don’t cover up the black lines like a normal digital paintbrush would. I don’t know what would work like this in other drawing programs, but try the felt-tip markers. The fill bucket can also be incredibly helpful (unless you have a ton of tiny lines like I do). 

BUT BEWARE. The copic markers (or felt markers if you’re using another program) only work like this if you’re working on the same layer as the imported image. I totally forgot I wasn’t using multiple layers, and I got a little crazy with my coloring. When I went to erase around the edges, I discovered I was erasing the actual black outlines. I had to start over. Coloring inside the lines DOES matter (at least in Sketchbook Pro). 

It’s taking so long, in fact, that I’m still not finished. I’ll try to finish up and post the final piece tomorrow. I hope you’ve enjoyed my trial-and-error lesson in digitally coloring your art. Learn from my mistakes. 

Library Surprise

Y/N frowned at the screen in front of her, the silence of the library heavy around her.

I’m sorry babe, tomorrow? Read the newest message from Joe, and she sighed as she typed a reply.

Study group tomorrow. Next week?

Her and Joe had both been so busy lately, her with university course work and him with the movie and other YouTube things, that the couple hadn’t had a chance to be with each other for a while, and every time they tried to plan, one was busy or something ended up coming up.

Clicking out of her messages and back onto her document where her notes were being jotted down, Y/N turned her attention back to the history book in front of her. She was glad this was her final year, then maybe her and Joe would have more time together.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she mentally scolded herself for getting distracted. This paper was due in a few days, and Y/N needed to do the last finishing touches so she could focus on the test she had coming up.

The sound of keyboards clicking, pens scratching, and pages turning calmed her stressed mind and she scanned the page of the book in front of her, getting back into the motion of reading and occasionally taking notes.

All was calm in the library until she heard muffled laughter.

Y/N’s eyes lifted from the book to scan across the room, but could not find anyone causing the noise, so she lowered them back to the printed words in front of her.

But then she heard it again, and apparently a few others noticed because when she looked up again, so were a few others.

The hardcore students were frowning, clearly upset about the disturbance from their studies, but Y/N almost welcomed the distraction, wanting a break from her studies and her lonely mind.

“She must be around here somewhere…”

“They all have their faces in the books, how are we supposed to know who’s who?”

“We’ll know her when we see her..”

Y/N blinked at the book in front of her, thinking that she had been studying too long because those voices sounded familiar, way too familiar.

“Y/N!” Her head snapped up to see Caspar standing across the room, waving at her. Jack, Conor, and Oli stood with him, also grinning, but looked slightly guilty at Caspar’s loud tone.

“Shhh!” The boys all turned towards the angry looking student who was hunched over a book with a few others, Y/N giggled as the boys took on various looks of shock and appal at being shushed.

“This is why I do not come to libraries,” Oli said to his camera, and Y/N realized he and Caspar were vlogging, “Too many angry students.”

She shook her head as she watched her boys slowly make their way through the maze of tables, chairs, and students bags, finally ending up at her own set up.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, as they each took a seat, smiling at the cameras for the future viewers. “And why are you vlogging me in the library?”

“We can’t come visit our favourite girl?” Jack asked, and she simply raised an eyebrow in response.

“Or, because we came with someone else.” Conor piped in, smirking as he nodded his head across the room.

With a confused look on her face, Y/N followed his gaze until they landed on him.

Joe stood just a few tables away, smiling softly at her, a backpack swung over his shoulder. He sauntered over, his gaze locked on her, and she could feel the tears pooling her eyes.

As he reached her table, she stood, leaping into his arms, burying her face into the crook between his shoulder and neck, breathing in his scent.

“Gods, I have missed you so much.” She mumbled into him, her tears soaking into his shoulder.

“I missed you too, love.” Joe’s arms were tight around her, and they were the only ones in that moment. Y/N felt as if all the stress and loneliness had just melted away, the tears a mix of happiness and relief.

“Awe, look at the two lovebirds.” Y/N heard Caspar, knowing that him and Oli had their cameras pointed at her and Joe, Jack and Conor probably had their phones directed at them with snapchat open.

Y/N could feel Joe chuckle, but she refused to let go of him, not yet. It had been too long.

Joe turned his head, kissing her gently on the side of her head.

“Y/N, love, you need to let go.”

“No.” She shook her head, squeezing tighter.

“Come on, I have snacks for you.” Y/N pulled back to see Joe grinning at her, he reached up to wipe away the few tears that remained. “I knew food would get your attention.”

“The way to my heart.” She smiled up at him, before reaching up on her toes to kiss him on the lips.

“Oh, get a room you two!” Jack called out, earning more grumbling from the students from before. “Calm down, you nerds. This is love we’re experiencing!”

“Jack, shut up.” Y/N rolled her eyes, linking her and Joe’s hands together as she pulled him towards the seat beside her. “What are you doing here?” She asked Joe, watching as he pulled out some snacks and his laptop from the backpack that was on his shoulder. “I thought you had meetings all day, and videos to edit.”

“You’re boyfriend’s a liar.” Oli said simply, his camera still directed at the couple.

“I only told a small little lie,” Joe pointed at Oli before turning to Y/N. “I wanted to surprise you, so I had to pretend to be busy. I mean, I do actually have some videos to edit, but thats why I brought my computer. So we can be together while we work.”

Y/N felt more tears come to her eyes, loving that Joe went through all that to surprise her. She leant in close, pulling him into another slow kiss.

“You are the best, lying boyfriend ever.” She told him, smiling softly.

“I try.” He shrugged, a smile on his own face.

“Ugh, why did we agree to come, we’re going to be stuck watching them be all cutesy now.” Conor wrinkled his nose.

“Will you please be quiet!” The angry student from before stood up, glaring over at the table full of Youtubers.

“Will you just calm down, this is love!” Caspar yelled back, laughter rising from the table.

anonymous asked:

no offense, but why would you ever waste so much money on such a useless degree... what would you even do? i love your blog though.

I thought about not posting this. I feel like it’s someone just trolling. Because how could you love an art history blog and not understand what a career in art history or a related field would entail. And it is offensive. But I figure it’s a good opportunity to explain the different types of careers you can have if you are an art history major, or have some related degree. 

There are so many career paths. If you want to be more of an academic, you could pursue becoming a professor, or even an art teacher at a secondary level. 

Another obvious career path is working in a museum. A lot of things are considered museums, that you might not ordinarily think, for example: If an institution has a collection, they catalogue, and properly maintain that collection while providing education or cultural experience. It’s a museum! This means things like zoos, national parks, art, history, science, house museums, special collection libraries, are all museums. Within a museum there are different roles:

  • Guest service (front desk, coat check, museum store) 
  • Security in the galleries and throughout the museum and offices
  • Administration 
  • Curator/Curatorial Department (usually each major part of a museum- contemporary art, european art, decorative art, even education all has a different curator) 
  • Historians/Researchers
  • Director
  • Archivist
  • Collections management 
  • Registrar (In smaller museums the role the registrar, archivist and collections management overlap.) 
  • Museum education department
  • Conservation department
  • Marketing and advertisement 
  • Graphic designers
  • In house artists (not common in all museums, but some do have them) 
  • Docents/Performers/Tourguides 
  • Media Archivist/maintenance  
  • Digital/Web Curators 
  • Archeologist/Anthropologists 
  • Librarian 
  • Installation/Preparation team

Depending on the museum and what it houses, there are a variety of roles, I’m sure I didn’t list them all.  

If you don’t want to work in a museum, you could work for a corporation. If corporations are selling a product, they most likely have an archive of their work, If they don’t have physical products, they definitely have paper documents to archive. 

If you were interested in architecture of urbanization, you could become a city planner or work with restoring historical buildings. Governments often employ art historians for a variety of reasons. You could work for a historical society. Be on a public art board or planning committee, it would probably be unpaid though. 

If you were interested in decorative arts you could work as a auctioneer, or antique dealer. You could work in art galleries, at auction houses like Christies. You could be an art buyer or appraiser. 

You could research things for documentaries, work for TV stations like the history channel, you could work with the film industry as a consultant to period films. 

If you also loved writing, you could become a freelance writer, or journalist, and work for art magazines, websites, newspapers. 

You could branch out and get your Masters in Library Sciences and work in library, special collections and archives and universities, athenaeums.

Perhaps you are really interested the digitization process, and you want to photograph, scan, edit, provide metadata for and update collections on museum, library, historical societies, ect. websites. 

These are just a few options. I know there are more. Hopefully this helps anyone who is interested in pursuing a career in art history, museum studies, public history, archival studies, museology, or any other related field. So if you’re feeling hopeless about job opportunities, don’t worry, working in this field is not a waste of time. Art is everywhere. 

date: April 3rd
location: Twelfth Night Gardens
status: Closed @pavelsmischief

Two weeks. Alva had never willfully ignored anyone for two weeks before, they never felt as if they had to. But they couldn’t bear to think about the Sweetheart Table without burying their face in their hands in sheer humiliation and self-loathing - really, what had they been thinking? To get so upset about a throwaway comment, what right did they have? (They had justifiable reasons, the other half of them thinks, is it so wrong of them to have wanted him to be genuine, for once?)

But it’s a lot to ask, they know, of someone who made it clear he doesn’t care to give to anyone but himself. And that meant Alva was in the wrong.

They forced themself not to meet his eyes as they performed despite feeling his gaze on the back of their neck, prickly and heated. When it came time for them to take a break, Alva quickly scanned the crowd for the quickest path out that was also the farthest from Pavel’s and, having found it, hurriedly grabbed their jacket and quickly made their way down and weaved through the idle crowds as quickly as they could, praying the assassin, at once, didn’t care to follow them and did.

You Are My Mission (One-Shot?? ;) )

Pairings: MariChat, (slight) LadyNoir, (hinted) AlyaNino <3
Rating: T (Just to be safe)
Description: (I suck at these so I’ll leave you with a snippet)

“What’s the important business you need me for? What kind of mission requires my help?”

He looked down at her before saying, “You are my mission.”

“Excuse me?” Incredulity filled her voice while an adorable blush filtered through her freckles once again.

 slight-Cinderlla AU, Aged Up!MariChat
(I don’t know what this is guys. Sorry if it’s horrible. I literally cannot tell you why I wrote this. But it took me way longer than it should have. It is also unedited so forgive me.)


Chat fixed the cuffs of his sleeve for the fifth time that evening. His glowing green eyes swept across the venue as he did so. Everything seemed still. There was the quiet mingling of guests all across the dimly lit banquet hall. He could have easily walked around, joining conversations. But that’s not why he was there. 

Someone in this room knew his real identity. They’d invited him to this event tonight with vague instructions. He’d figured his Lady might have received a message like his too. However, he’d been unable to get through to her all day.

It had been driving him nuts. What if they were using him as bait to lure his Lady? What if they were the reasons he couldn’t contact her?

Before he could flesh out his nightmares, his cellphone buzzed.

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“Reel ‘em in!”: Altai’s tips RP for starter posts

Originally posted by pixeloutput

Hello Tumblr! Today I wanted to try and share some tips about something that seems to trouble a lot of people when it comes to RP: hooking people in, particularly in public spots. How can I make my post more attractive? Why aren’t people reacting? What do I do if my character is shy/antisocial/etc.?

I’m by no means an expert, but I do have a good couple of years of experience roleplaying in many different mediums, so I’ll try to share some tips that work for me in getting people to notice your character when they walk into the room! If this is something that interests you, please keep reading below the break.

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The Smuggler and the Barista


Ariadne had been very due for a night on the town after all the work she’d been doing. It had been difficult building a life for herself here in the Free Marches after arriving with almost nothing, but she was managing pretty damn well. And she hadn’t even had to write back home for any help. She had a small apartment to stay in, a steady job as a barista at a local coffee shop, and she was even making a few friends. Well, regulars who wanted to meet with her outside of the cafe. But she was getting there. Now it was time to relax, put her feet up, and enjoy a bit of time off.

Ooh, and maybe scout the eye candy around this club. She sipped at her ale (she couldn’t afford the wine she generally liked) and scanned the dance floor, curious if anyone would catch her eye. And sure enough, someone eventually did. A beautiful woman at the other end of the bar, tanned skin, long black hair, and a mouth that Ariadne would love to kiss. So she flagged the bartender, handed over some money, and said, “The woman with the big earrings and tan, I’ll pay for the next drink she orders.” 

She could afford that much. And it had been so long since she’d had any kind of intimacy. Whether it was just a friend or a roll in the sheets, Ariadne would take what she could get. So when the woman turned to see who paid for her refill, Ariadne raised her glass a bit and smiled, hoping she hadn’t presumed too much.

Royai Alphabet Series: F

Alright, so this has obviously been building up to this one here, although I’m not terribly happy with it. It’s been on my mind for a while, but then I kept running out of steam and I don’t know. Writing happens. It is hella long though, so that might be part of the reason. As it stands, this is the end of these interconnected one shots. The next one (G) will start a series of other connected one shots that I’ve had boiling around in my head for a while and originally planned on making a short chaptered fic out of them. At any rate, I hope you all enjoy this one!

F is for Family

The towns and villages belonging to the Shen clan were nowhere near as elaborate as the capitol city, but it wasn’t nearly as small as some of the places they’d visited in the past two weeks. Every spot that held people, even the small villages, had something of note to it, even if it was just a shop. On the ride here, May had explained in the carriage that while the Shen clan was not as well-to-do as the Yao or Song clans, it was not on the desolate level that May’s own clan had been in before her adventure to Amestris.

“Almost every house has running water,” May had said with a hint of pride and perhaps envy. The shudder that had run up her spine had nearly made Roy smile in amusement. “You would not believe how high a clan is perceived if they have something along the lines of a plumbing system.”

The light comment had been meant to inform Roy, but it had also forced him to take a step back. Almost every house had running water? How long had it been since he’d had to worry about that? Perhaps while he was on the frontlines in Ishval and later when he slept in that tiny hut during the Ishval Rebuild he had to deal with it, but it had been a given back then. When he’d been at home or anywhere else in Amestris, something as simple as clean running water had been expected. Even when he’d been in the orphanage and was forced to fight to use the bathroom in peace, it had still been there.

He couldn’t help but drag an old memory of his mother out from his mind, an image of her using a towel and hot water to scrub him down after he played in the mud when he could have easily just taken a bath. If he remembered correctly, one of the few things she’d been strict about had been him not taking long showers or baths. She had been a careful woman, taking care to not overdo anything, if only out of moderation or habit, except for doling out smiles and hugs. He tried to picture his mother here, carrying around buckets of water from the nearest well. Did they have hot water? Was it clean?

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