it had better not be one sided

@pattonscardigan, you will regret this.

This is an analysis on Roman’s overall mental health right before Fitting In because his mentality seemed to be much better and less broken in Fitting In, and most of these points can be applied to Moving On (part one and two).


Princey, you are done!


  • Roman constantly needs approval in order to create. He needs to have everyone believe in him, quite possibly to substitute for the lack of belief he has in himself
  • He had his ideas shot down by Logan and Patton, but never Virgil.
  • In that situation, he probably thought Verge was on his side for once, but in the end, his last string of hope was completely cut as Virgil yells at him.
  • Patton and Logan seemed to be supportive in the end, leaving Virgil as the only one who didn’t support Roman.

I would be setting myself up for heartbreak…

  • Roman doesn’t want to be listened to as just romance. He wants to be listened to as creativity, as imagination.
  • He valiantly says “I only ever push you towards your dreams, Thomas, and I never say a bad word about you!” but at the end he adds a distressed but soft cry for help. He wants to be heard. He wants to be included and accepted as a part of the group because he’s creativity, not just dreams and romance.
  • What we see when Roman was first introduced was someone who is full of himself, and a little insensitive to those around him. He had this act. A saccharine shtick that was so sickly confident and loud that there was no way it was real.

…but I’m no defeatist.

  • Roman’s hope for approval from everyone is gone. Virgil was the one he needed approval from, and he never got it.
  • Roman needed everyone with him in order to use Daydream Mode, but in the end, it didn’t matter or make a difference.
  • It’s clear he felt completely hopeless at this point because of how he mumbles the rest of his lines, and how he starts to fidget.
  • He becomes self-conscious and embarrassed after the way Thomas had replied to his name reveal. “It’s Roman.” “What?” “Roman. That’s my…proper name.

Princey’s never liked Anxiety that’s his problem.

Accepting Anxiety part one (screencaps from Accepting Anxiety part two)

  • After Roman finally saw eye-to-eye with Virgil, he frantically turns to Logan…
  • …and Patton for their approval.
  • It seems like Roman had some jealousy. The reason he never got around to apologizing sooner was because Virgil had stolen Roman’s spotlight (in Roman’s eyes, at least) as the most popular character.
  • The apology implies that Roman figured out his own jealousy pushed others away because of how toxic the envy he felt had become. Envy had become resentment, and resentment had become anger.
  • He wasn’t angry at Virgil, of course not. Virgil was doing his job.
  • Roman was angry at himself for being like he is.

(Side note: the question Patton asks “Do you have self-esteem issues?” Is completely glossed over, and not brought up again. That’s a way to deflect having to tell the truth.)


In simpler terms, I want to draw Roman suffering from his self-image issues and/or being ridiculed

Little Games


Request: HEAR ME OUT:   Patrick x Reader (female) x Henry with a dash of the fact that those boys can talk dirty for daysssss   Also I hope you’re having a lovely day! x


Walking down the streets after school had never been fun. Especially if he Bowers Gang we’re cruising by, everyday (Y/N) would wish they had better things to do than drive around. But this afternoon they had been driving around, hanging out the windows and slapping their hands against the side of the car, wolf whistling to girls and cat calling them. They all retaliated somehow, whether it be screaming back at them or throwing something at them, everyone was used to their antics. But (Y/N) had enough, even if they were some of the most attractive boys she had seen, she didn’t like the attention one bit, especially when people would stare at her when the boys would start hollering. She always had to walk a few blocks each day to get from school to home, wishing she had a car. Although, despite the many times Patrick and the boys have tried to coerce her into the car, it wasn’t happening. Although, she had always wondered what it felt like to be close to Patrick - or Victor - or even the man himself, Henry Bowers. It was true, they were attractive but they were assholes. Even she had standards. “Hey baby!” She sighed as she heard the familiar voice behind her. She tried not to look, full well knowing Patrick was licking his lips, something that regrettably turned her on. That boy was fire and so was his counter part. “C’mon why don’t ya hop in? We’ll behave.” Henry cooed. She heard Victor and Belch’s chuckle. She often thought of Belch as the quiet one, the one who would be the most sane, her eyes met with Belch’s and he looked back at Henry and the boys and back to the road, he slowed the car, just cruising beside her so close she could smell the cigarette smoke.

She stayed silent, figuring they’d just go away if she ignored them. “Don’t be shy princess.” Patrick drawled. “If you get in, we’ll stop makin’ a goddamn scene.” Henry cocked his eyebrow. She slowed, turning to look at the boy. She took in his soft but harsh features. She turned her attention to Patrick, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip, grinning like a psycho. “Will you leave me alone?” She asked, stopping beside the car. She secretly hoped they wouldn’t. “You’ll have to find out.” Victor perked up. She crossed her arms and sighed in defeat, sweet, sweet defeat. Patrick climbed out of the car and opened the door. She stepped forward and felt Patrick’s large hand place itself on the small of her back. She looked back at him then her eyes flickered back to the seat in the middle. “Are you gonna get the fuck in?” Henry groaned, his mood shifting drastically. She nodded.

Belch’s car was small, she knew she would have to be squished against the boys sides but she wasn’t denying that she’d always wanted to. She slid in beside Victor who grinned to Belch and Patrick. Patrick slid in after her. She was right, this car was small and her body was meshing with the boys’.Her heart was racing, faster and faster each breath she drew, inhaling sharply the scent of all different colognes and cigarette smoke. She was trying to figure out which cologne belonged to which boy, she hadn’t noticed Patrick’s eyes gleaming in her direction. He leaned towards her, she inhaled instinctively. Her nostrils filled with his scent, disgruntled by the fact that her favourite scent belonged to Patrick Fucking Hockstetter. “You seem tense little one…” He purred in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “Leave the girl alone, Hockstetter.” Henry groaned, his eyes meeting yours through the rear view mirror. She silently thanked him but he didn’t notice. Patrick rolled his eyes and leaned back towards the window. They pulled up outside her house. As she went to get out so did Henry and Patrick but Patrick didn’t go back in. “You boys coming?” Henry asked the others. “I have to take Vic home and then my dad wants my help.” Belch shrugged. “My mom needs my help.” Vic said meekly. Henry shrugged them off and turned towards the house walking towards it. “Well? You coming? There’s no fucking way I’m wasting my time looking for your bedroom.” Henry opened the front door using the key he found under the welcome mat.

His knowledge about her home had truly scared (Y/N) how much did they stalk her? She walked ahead of Patrick, Henry now stood in the entrance way, waiting for her. She took the lead nervously. “So why are you guys here?” She asked, timidly walking up the stairs to her room. “We’re gonna hang out…” Henry’s voice was dripping with mischief. She let them into her room and as if it were their own they immediately got comfortable, taking refuge on her bed and her desk chair. She sat on the bed beside Patrick, facing them both. “So babydoll… We’re gonna play a little game. We play it with all of our whores.” he said. “Your whores?” She spoke up. He snickered crossing his arms. “What? You think once we got you in the car we’d just let you go? Especially after months of trying? Damn you sure ain’t smart.” Henry grinned. She swallowed the lump in her throat, “what are you gonna do to me?” her voice was shaky and it didn’t help that Patrick had let go of her hand a few moments ago. “Oh darling don’t you worry. We won’t hurt ya.” Patrick cooed. “We just like to play.” He added.

Patrick leaned down to her ear and made sure no one else could hear him, “don’t worry, it’s just us.” His fingers entwined with the tendrils of her hair. She felt a shiver run down her spine. “We’ll start easy. Truth or dare.” Henry’s suggestion almost made (Y/N) laugh, it was such a juvenile game but she knew deep down that if she played with with these boys, it would be the least juvenile game she’d ever played and will ever play. “Y/N… Truth or dare?” Henry shifted comfortable, placing his elbows on his knees and leaning forward, dropping his hands in front of him. “Truth.” She muttered, Patrick giggled. “Okay… Would you fuck at least one of us?” He cocked his eyebrow, expecting her answer to e a disgusted no and for her to try to leave. “Yeah.” She deadpanned. Henry’s eyes widened, a small boyish smirk playing on his lips until he looked over to the boy beside her. His features became stone again as he saw her glance at Patrick and back to himself.

“Henry… Truth or dare?” She cocked an eyebrow, seeing that she had him right where she wanted him. “Truth.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “If you could fuck anyone, who would it be?” She asked. he snickered and stared her down, “You.” She wasn’t all that shocked but she still expected him to name a famous actress or Victors mom. “And baby I’d fuck your pussy so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk.” He winked, earning. raspy chuckle from Patrick. “Wouldn’t you like to try.” She teased. He cocked an eyebrow and leaned closer, “is that an invitation?” He bit his lip and she held back a laugh. “Patrick-” “dare.” Patrick interjected with a smirk, leering at (Y/N). Henry was frozen, there was nothing he could dare Patrick to do without having him touch or interact with (Y/N). Patrick would do anything, that was a fact. Henry took a risk and allowed Patrick to have his moment of egotistical fun. “I dare you to pick something from (Y/N’s) closet and then get her to wear it.” Henry shrugged, out of ideas, wishing it were just him and (Y/N). “Actual clothes, Hockstetter.” Henry warned, seeing the look on Patricks smug face, knowing full well he couldn’t have this girl half naked around Patrick, especially if he wanted her to himself, God they both did. Patrick smirked with a nod and headed towards her closet, opening it and looking through, a look of determination and confusion on his face. He reached in and plucked a dress off of one of the hangers. “This. Now this is a dress!” He pointed to the item of clothing he held. it was a light blue dress, short and low cut. Patrick motioned for her to stand up and she removed her shirt, taking the dress and putting it on, then taking her jeans off from under the dress gingerly. “Fuck. You should wear dresses more often.” Henry praised quietly from his corner. She grinned at him. “You wish, Bowers.” She said. “Alright, girlie… truth or dare?” Patrick licked his lips as he leaned back onto the bed using his elbows as support with his legs crossed. “Dare.” She said, sitting back down on the end of the bed, facing Henry and Patrick. henry’s eyes flickered towards Patrick, his eyes met with Patrick’s, Patrick looked back towards the girl in front of him, “kiss me.” he said breathlessly. Her heart began racing, her cheeks began to burn.

Whatever she had gotten herself into, she liked it. She turned her body towards him, scooting closer to his crossed legs. Patrick didn’t move, he didn’t lean in, he sat still, waiting for her to come to him, which she did. Kneeling in front of his legs she gripped the headboard behind him and leaned in, her other hand sat at the base of his jaw, her lips centimetres away from his, she let a shaky breath escape, her heart was going wild and her breath followed suit. She connected their lips, feeling the soft warmth of his lips, he kissed her back. His tongue ran along her bottom lip, one of his hands coming up to hold her throat gently. Henry’s jaw clenched and he cleared his throat, the pair slowed down, she took his bottom lip between her teeth and tugged lightly before pulling away. Her cheeks a deep crimson, she tried to fight the smile creeping onto her lips, especially when she saw Henry’s cold facade, knowing he wasn’t pleased. “Henry… Truth or dare.” She licked her lips, making his breath hitch. “Dare.” He sighed, pretending to be bored. “It’s your turn to kiss me.” Her words shocked both the boys, neither wanted to share her with anyone, let alone each other. Patrick smirked lightly, seeing straight through her little game, Henry on the other hand, his vision was blocked by the gorgeous girl, wanting to kiss him, he hadn’t seen this as a game, he saw this as her fantasy and he was into it.

He shifted in the desk chair and stood up, taking a step towards the bed where she sat. He closed in on her and leaned down, his hand caressing her cheek, he pressed his lips against hers, still unsure but when he felt her tug him closer he smiled into the kiss. Patrick grinned ear to ear, rolling his eyes. Her hands gripped Henry’s tank top and pulled him into her, their lips moving in synch, her tongue sliding against his own, his hands gripping her side. She pulled away from Henry, reaching out for Patrick’s collar and pulling him over to the pair and as he was close enough she attached her lips to his, Henry’s hands caressing her body and her tongue exploring Patrick’s mouth. She pulled away from Patrick who kneeled on the bed, towering over her. Her hands on his hips, tugging at the hem of his shirt she lifted his shirt half way off his body and he pulled it the other half way off, throwing it aside. Her hands began trailing down his torso lightly and reaching the waistband of his jeans, looking up at Patrick and reaching up, snaking her hand around the nape of his neck, she pulled him down. She kissed him and began leaving a trail of warm kisses along his neck and collarbone, palming him through his jeans, a moan escaped his lips. “Oh fuck… You really are our little whore…” He muttered. She pulled away and moved back to the side of the bed, sitting on the edge, facing Henry who was still standing at the bed, he’d been watching her with Patrick and he couldn’t wait for his turn. She pulled him back into her, letting him step between her legs, she pulled him down and connected their lips, her hands running up under his shirt. She let her hands fall back out of his shirt and took it from his body. Her eyes scanned his torso, she reconnected their lips hungrily, letting her hands explore his body for her. Henry’s hand tugged at her hair and the other was stuck on her neck.

She grabbed his shoulders and threw him onto the free space on the bed beside her, climbing on top of him and straddling him, her hands planted firmly on his chest, she planted her lips on his and enjoyed the feeling while it lasted, she dragged her lips down to his jaw and trailed light kisses along his sharp jawbone her hand resting on the other side of his jaw. Her lips left kisses from his jaw down to his chest, she could feel him bulging against her, she rolled her hips, forcing a groan to escape his lips, his hands held her hips in place, stopping her, his lips parted as if he were panting heavily, his eyes pleading for more but his hands said otherwise. Patrick snickered from beside the two, earning her attention, she gestured for him to come closer, to which he obliged. She sat upright, resting on Henry’s bulge. (Y/N) took her shirt off and took note of how both boy’s eyes began to analyse her gratifyingly. She grabbed Patrick’s face and pulled him into a kiss, one of her hands trailing to find his bulge, which was easy enough. She began palming him again, his lips quivering in pleasure, his eyes rolling back into his head and a sick grin plastered on his face. She felt Henry’s grip on her hips loosen and taking her chance she rolled her hips again, feeling the boy jerk underneath her in pleasure, “god fuck!” He moaned, closing his eyes. She pulled away from Patrick and began to kiss Henry again, rolling her hips slowly, he moaned against her mouth, “fuck - you like - bein’ a - slut?” He taunted to which she rolled her hips and kissed him harder.

her heart dropped when she heard a door slam shut. The front door slammed shut. She jerked away from Henry and looked to Patrick who had already stood up off of the bed. “Y/N, you home?” She heard her mother call. “Shit.” She cursed under her breath before getting off of Henry and putting her shirt back on. “You guys need to go. Right now.” She whispered, both boys located their shirts and pulled them on quickly. “Out the window!” She muttered as she heard her mother’s footsteps against the first step. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. We’ll play tomorrow.” She winked as Henry climbed through the window, smirking at her, his cheeks flushed. He jumped down and Patrick began to climb out, he pulled her close to him and held her waist with one arm and used his other arm to hold onto the window not to fall out. He pressed his lips against hers, pulling away and licking her bottom lip. He left with a wink and just as he jumped, there was a knock at the door. “I’m getting changed.” She sighed. Her heart had been beating at a million miles per minute. “Okay. Come down when you’re done, I’ll be in the kitchen.” (Y/N) peered out the window and watched as the two boys were making their way down the road, glancing back at her house. She began to chuckle to herself silently, closing her eyes, resting her forehead against the window. What had she gotten herself into?



Was gonna post yesterday but my laptop decided to fuck me over so here ya go! X 


@brooke101art ohh can you make a headcannon where pidge and shiro are like tickling each other and then shiro touches her in away on accident and then they start acting weird around each other

Yes I freaking can

Request from this post (x)

“Wh- aha- why- ahahah-”

Shiro was doubled over and sliding down one of the walls of Pidge’s laboratory, tears poking out from under his crinkled eyelids as he struggled to catch his breath. Small, thin hands ran lightly over his sides, just gentle enough to send him into wheezing, uncontrollable laughter to where his ribs ached and cheeks stung. The Black Paladin had, for lack of a better term, been assaulted by the team’s resident tech expert the second he set foot into her quiet spot, flashing her golden eyes in his direction and flying out of her seat like some sort of creature from another world. Now, it had been nearly a minuet and a half since this ‘fierce attack’ had started, and Shiro swore he was going to lose his quiznacking mind.

“Because,” She laughed, squirming out of the way of him much larger arms, “I said no checking up on me!”

Shiro fell to a knee, desperately attempting to shove her, shove anything, out of the way as his rampant giggling continued on, yet he only caught loose green sweater. “It’s three-hehehaha- in the morning, Pidge-”

No excuses!” The brunette cut him off, warm eyes narrowing. “I warned you of the consequences!”

He managed to tear his darkened eyes open and throw his head back to snatch a glance at her; Pidge’s grin was shining in the dimmed light, her golden eyes, though tired and glossy, glowed with secret appreciation for his interruption. She threw her head out to the side, tossing curly honey-brown hair out of her view-
-and away from her freckled neck.


He shoved her arms out of the way and lunged, the two tumbling backward on the metallic ground in a mangled mess of limbs as he ran his flesh-and-blood appendage just above where her sweater started. Pidge shrieked, crying out with a strangled cackle and a pitiful push at her commander’s grasp at her scrawny waist.

“Not f-faiiiir!” She whined, bare feet kicking wildly and cotton-clad shoulders rising up to her ears. Their sounds of mirth echoed off of the towering hanger walls, the constrained thrashing and movement never ceasing for a second. Shiro threw his arm down and raked up her sides, the smaller’s chortling only increasing in volume.

Then it started to die down as he ripped his hands away, face burning red. Pidge’s own started to flush as well as they both started to sit up, eyes sticking only to the floor.


Because the Black Paladin had grabbed the Green’s boob.

A handful of seconds trickled by, the human’s calming breath slowly dissolving into quiet and awkwardness settled into the clean air. It continued this way until Shiro cleared his throat and shifted upward, head still turned away from her as his expression continued to heat up with color. He gingerly offered his metallic hand as a way of her standing.


“Is something wrong with you and Pidge?” Hunk asked one day over breakfast, scooping food goo onto his plate.

Shiro glanced up with tired eyes, another night of no sleep and training draining him.“What?” He asked once more, shoving back a yawn with his Galra palm clasped over his mouth.

“You’ve been avoiding each other for the past two days.” He stated it as if it was a common known fact, that even Zarkon himself knew it, shrugging his shoulders calmly. “You won’t even look at each other without blushing or something.”

He grasped at straws for a quick explanation, but only settled for a one-worded response as he reached for the coffee-concoction he had gained earlier and tipped it to his lip. Shiro glanced up and met Hunk’s gaze, his cheeks threatening to grow pink once again. “Tickling.”

That was all the answer that the Yellow Paladin needed, as he exhaled a breathy laugh and shook his head, yellow bandana tossing about. He leaned over his shoulder and clasped it, smile wide. “Remember that old saying everyone on Earth would say, about falling off of a horse and getting back in the saddle?”

He then whisked away, leaving Shiro to deal with the new addition to the table: a honey-haired genius who had plopped down in front of him, glasses crooked and bags under her eyes ever present. It took the commander multiple minuets in addition to a dry throat to gather up any courage he retained in his arms and shove it forward.

“So,” He managed, “Still ticklish?”

anonymous asked:

How would either Sans feel about their crush being an artist? With scenarios such as asking them to model? Or maybe they get a bit snoopy and look in a travel sketchpad and wHOOPS, it's full of them! At different angles and faces, with notes off to the side asking how they can even be so expressive, and frustrated rambles like "I love it when he smiles like that, I can't seem to get it just right tho... :(" (Sorry my imagine is so long, I just had so many ideas myself!😅 Feel free to omit any!)

(Making me wish I was better at art! -Mod Kasha)

- He is always so, so supportive of your art.  He knows you love to draw and every time he glimpses one of your works he tells you how great it looks.
- For awhile, he has no idea that you ever draw him.  He wouldn’t figure that you would.  He knows he’s not much to look at.
- But when he sneaks a peek in your sketchpad and sees the way you draw him…  holy shit.  It takes real talent to make him look cool and attractive.
- He smiles so much at your little comments.  His soul sings in his chest a little bit at the realization that you look at him like that, that you’re fascinated with his smile like he is with yours.  He soaks it in for a moment, then grabs a pen and starts writing his own little comments under yours.  
are you kidding?  you NAILED it.’ 
wow if i actually looked this good i’d fuck me.’ 
as if i would ever strike such a dynamic pose.  looks friggin awesome tho.
why do you like drawing me from the back so much?
- Then he makes little drawings of his own next to yours.  Not over them, god no, he would never desecrate something so skillful and so precious to you.  But he can’t resist putting scribbled stick and blob figures next to your masterpieces.
- Seems surprisingly chill about modeling for you…  then does exclusively goofy poses, because dear god, he lives to hear you laugh because of him.
- You do manage to wrangle him into doing one serious pose, though, and he’s blushing the whole time you’re drawing him.  So you add the blush into the drawing and it makes him even cuter.

wingardium-letmefuckyou  asked:

Hey, I love your gods&monsters series, could you write something about Apollo? ^Preferably something with a positive vibe, something romantic... But that's totally up to you, anything about Apollo makes me happy

Apollo has many sons.

He only ever has nine daughters.


He has his first when he’s young, too young to know better.

Daphne is beautiful and coy, and leads him on a merry chase. He catches her, and finally silences her laughing mouth with his own. They sleep together, and she leaves bite marks up his neck.

Her father, the river god Peneus, finds out about them. Apollo had not known it was secret. Peneus is a hard, selfish god, and he slits Daphne’s throat for her impurity. Better a dead daughter then one who does not listen.

Apollo finds out too late. He arrives to Daphne dead on the side of her father’s riverbank, stomach swollen in a way Apollo doesn’t remember it being the last time he saw her, which was – which was – it couldn’t have been that long, could it?

He cuts open her stomach, throat too tight to call for his sister’s help, heart too tight to bear anyone else looking at Daphne’s slack, bloody face.

The child is still warm.

The child is still alive.

He cannot bring himself to bury Daphne, to sentence her to an afterlife beneath the earth. Instead, he transforms her into a large laurel tree, so her beauty will remain eternal. He presses a hand against her trunk and says, “My hair will have you, my lyre will have you, my quiver will have you.” Apollo looks down at the baby, too small, tucking into the crook of his arm. “Our daughter will have you.”

He calls her Calliope. Their daughter weaves laurel leaves into her hair every day of her life.


When he is older, but not wiser, he gets drunk on the top of Olympus. It is not the first time, nor the last, but this time it is different.

This time Hestia, goddess of the hearth, of warmth, of family, places her delicate hand around the back of his neck and leads him to her rooms.

Months later, he lands his chariot, the sun finally set. His arms are shaking, and his legs are covered from burns when the sun grew tired and tried to consume him, but could not. Hestia stands before him, something held in her arms. “What’s wrong?” he asks roughly, throat dry and the skin of his lips cracking. Hestia rarely leaves Olympus.

“I am no mother,” she tells him, and he doesn’t understand until she places a warm, squirming bundle in his arms. He holds it to his chest automatically. “Her name is Terpsichore.”

She leaves before he has the chance to question her. He looks down, and the baby has his golden eyes and her dark hair. “Hello, little one.”

Calliope is fully grown now. Apollo leaves Terpsichore in her care, and promises to come when called.

“Yes, Father,” Calliope says, rolling her eyes as her little sister grabbing fistfuls of her curly hair. There’s an ink smudge across her face, and her home is bursting with books. He should really talk to Athena about letting Calliope use one of her libraries.

He kisses both their foreheads before leaving.


Apollo falls in love with a Spartan prince, graceful and strong and with a wide, pretty mouth. He falls in love with a mind that can match him, with a smile that leaves him breathless. Hyacinth captures his affections and attentions utterly, and for a few short years Apollo is enchanted, for a few short years Apollo feels a love deep in his chest that is only surpassed by the love he has for his sister.

Then Hyacinth is killed.

He shows up at his daughters’ door, and Calliope and Terpsichore take one look at him and usher him inside. He can’t bring himself to speak, but he’s covered in blood that isn’t his own, is pale and shaken and mourning.

They clean him and care for him and settle him to bed, although he cannot bring himself to sleep.

Less than a week later, there is a mortal woman there looking for him. Her eyes are red, but she stands tall and her lips are pressed into a straight line. A toddler who shares her dark coloring clutches her skirt. “I am the Princess of Sparta, and wife of Hyacinth.”

Apollo hadn’t known Hyacinth had a wife. He hadn’t asked. Surely he would have noticed – but then again, perhaps not. Love makes people stupid. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“As I am sorry for yours,” she says in return, which surprises him. “Sparta must have a prince. I am to be remarried.” She brings the little girl forward, and she can’t be more than a couple years old. “This is Urania, the child of myself and my husband. I have been ordered to kill her.”

Apollo flinches. He knows such things are done, but – she is Hyacinth’s daughter. “I will take her.”

She smiles. “I thought you might.” She kisses the girl on both cheeks, hands her to Apollo, then leaves as quickly as she’d came.

Urania watches them with big liquid eyes that she got from her mother. He stays with his daughters for a year after that, playing with Urania and watching Terpsichore dance and listening to Calliope’s beautiful poetry. Urania loves the stars. She stares up at them each night, and Apollo patiently explains the name of each one.

When she is fully grown, he begs a piece of ambrosia off Hestia and feeds it to her.

Urania is his daughter as surely as if his blood ran through her veins. He cannot bear to watch her age and die.


Marpessa chooses Ida over him, but it is too late. She already swells with his child, and he could use that to keep her. He could force her to stay at his side, she loves him, she said so, it would not be such a cruel thing.

But she is not wrong in her assessment. Apollo is immortal, and will not grow old with her, will not change with her, will not die with her. Ida will.

There’s fear on her face, and he thinks she deserves it, for proclaiming to love him and choosing another. But he is not interested in keeping her captive for a lifetime.

“Have the child, and give it to me,” he commands, “and I will leave you to your life.”

Ida is furious in his jealousy that Marpessa will bear a child for Apollo before she bears a child for him, so there is that comfort, at least.

Artemis delivers the child to ensure it goes smoothly. She’s beaming as she holds her niece. “What will you call her?”

“You choose,” he says, running the back of his finger over the babe’s soft cheek.

His sister considers the squalling child for a long moment before she says, “I think you should name her Thalia.”

“Thalia it is,” he says.

She’s mischievous, and reminds him of himself on his worst days. She grows, and pulls pranks on nymphs and deities. Her older sisters are constantly straining to keep her out of worse trouble.

He gets a frantic message from Calliope that Thalia has gone missing, and he eventually finds her at the edge of a scorched battlefield, the soldiers long gone but the bodies and stench remaining. He’s furious at her for going to a place so dangerous, but when he marches up to her he sees something that he hadn’t expected.

She’s hallway through a story about pranking a wood nymph that he knows is at least half lies and a quarter exaggeration. Curled up on the ground, clutching his stomach as he laughs so hard he can’t breathe, is Ares.

Apollo hasn’t seen the tormented god of war this carefree since he was a child.

Thalia finally notices him, and cuts herself off, paling. “Oh, uh. Hi Dad.”

Ares is downright giggling. “Hello Thalia,” Apollo crosses his arms and glares, “You shouldn’t go wandering away from your sisters.” She winces and nods, ducking her head to look up at him through her eyelashes, doing her best to look contrite and innocent.

It might have worked, if Apollo hadn’t taught her that look himself.

He sits down on the ground next to Ares, who doesn’t acknowledge his presence beyond shifting enough to use Apollo’s thigh as his pillow. “Well,” Apollo says, “keep going.”

Thalia lights up and launches back into the story, and when she finishes she continues into another which is mostly true and somehow even more ridiculous.


Because he’s an idiot with a death wish, Apollo ends up spending a month with Hecate in the underworld. He stumbles out one night when she falls asleep, because he feels if he doesn’t leave now there’s a possibility that he never will.

One of the most horrifying moments of his life is looking for the way out, and finding Hades instead. The god of death looks to him, walking around naked in his realm, to the direction he came from, and says, “That was you? Are you crazy?”

“It … it was a good time,” he says faintly.

“Obviously,” Hades shakes his head, and slices his hand down in the air in front of them, creating a doorway for Apollo out of his realm.

Apollo gives him a clumsy salute and steps through.

Roughly a year later, he’s playing his lyre when a little girl with black skin and grey hair and eyes appears in front of him. It’s terrifying enough that he accidentally snaps one of his strings.

“Lady Styx,” he says, voice higher pitched than normal. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The child snorts and reaches her hands into absolutely nothing and pulls out a baby. She holds it out to him. “Hecate says this is your problem now.”

Improbably, the babe already has a mouth full of too-sharp teeth. Her eyes shift between every color, unable to decide, and there is something a little too knowing about her face for one so young. Artemis says he too was born knowing too much.

A child of Apollo and Hecate can only be a mistake, something that will never fit quite well among others of her own kind.

He sighs and take the baby. “Very well.”

“I like the name Clio,” the child goddess says before leaving him.

Thalia tells him it’s too small and to give it back. Urania is fascinated, and takes over most of the child’s care, which is likely for the best since Calliope is neck deep into a new epic, and would be cross if she needed to pull her attention from it to rear a child.

As Clio ages, she stays just as unsettling and strange. Hephaestus shows up around the time she starts breaking into Athena’s libraries, even though stunts like that get people worse than killed. “I don’t know why she gave her to me,” Apollo says as they watch the teenager devouring a stolen tome on the history of the Persian Empire. “Hecate raised you, I don’t understand why she didn’t want to raise her actual daughter.”

“You’re a better parent than she is,” he says thoughtfully. Apollo gives him an unimpressed look, but he says, “I’m serious. Your girls are turning out to be quite lovely – all of them.”

“Of course they are,” he says, nose in the air, but grins when Hephaestus elbows him the side.

By the time she’s an adult, Clio is easily one of the most accomplished scholars to ever exist. She and Athena regularly get into academic debates that last weeks, and scare off anyone from daring to come closer.

She stays strange, and too smart, and Apollo loves her utterly.


Apollo is lying on the beach when a large wave overtakes him and drags him into the sea. He struggles for the surface, but can’t seem to shake the waves, and is dragged to the sea floor. He’s a god, so he won’t suffocate, but he’s terrified when the water drags him down to Poseidon’s palace and deposits him in front of his wife. “Apollo,” she says, “I can see what your daughters will become.”

He has no idea what she’s talking about. “Excuse me?”

Amphitrite grabs his jaw and pulls him closer. He doesn’t dare resist. She looks into his eyes, then smirks. “The god of prophecy doesn’t know that which he has wrought. How … ironic.”

“Is it?” he wonders. He really hopes she doesn’t kill him.

“Quite,” she smirks, and with a flick of her wrist she’s naked before him. “I wish for one of your daughters to be mine as well. Lay with me.”

“Uh,” he says eloquently, because Amphitrite has never given her husband any children, he hadn’t even known she could. If he sleeps with her, Poseidon might kill him, regardless of how many people the god of the sea sleeps with that aren’t his wife. But if he refuses her, she might kill him, and it’s not like having sex with Amphitrite is any sort of hardship. She’s as gorgeous as she is terrifying. “Okay.”

He’s deposited back on the shore the next day, feeling oddly used.

If Poseidon has any opinions on Apollo knocking up his wife, he doesn’t voice them.

Amphitrite doesn’t foist the baby upon him as soon as she’s born. Instead years pass, and one day a dark skinned, amber eyed sea god shows up at his door. There’s a teenager at his side, who has Apollo’s coloring and Amphitrite’s bone structure, and hair that shimmers golden-green in sunlight. “Glaucus,” Apollo greets warily, “and who might this be?”

“I call her Erato,” Glaucus says, “I’ve raised her since birth. It’s time for her to join her sisters.”

Erato is not as terrifying as her mother. Instead there’s a sweetness about her that she must have gotten from Glaucus. She’s shy at first, and spends many days looking out into the sea. But his daughters are persistent, and soon she’s laughing and joining them. There’s something dreamy about her, and she loves love, writes romantic ballads and beautiful poems, so much so that Aphrodite commends her talent.

Erato is also the most like him in the area of her love life, meaning she leaves behind a constant trail of heartbroken men and women.

Calliope complains about the constant wailing around their home, and Clio proves she has some of her mother’s talent with magic when she casts an unplotable spell around their home so former lovers stop following Erato home. Of course, she forgets to tell both Apollo and her sisters about this, and it’s very confusing for everyone until Clio remembers to tell them where the house is.

His daughters’ home is a place of constant music, poetry, and literature. He thinks he’s starting to suspect what Amphitrite was talking about.


Not all hunts are easy things.

Apollo feels the moment his sister is wounded, the arrow through her abdomen as painful for him as it is for her. He’s in his chariot, and he can’t leave it, if he leaves his chariot unattended the sun will consume it, and then consume the earth. “Calliope!” he snaps, and his eldest daughter appears by his side.

“Father?” she asks, huddling into him and away from the sun. “What’s going on?”

“Artemis is hurt, I have to help,” he says urgently, and places the reins into her hands. “You can do this.”

She pales, but steps forward, keeping a white knuckled grip on the chariot. “Go.”

He kisses his forehead, and goes to his sister. Her huntresses have set up an honor guard around her, defending and dying as cruel faced giants draws closer. “ARES!” he screams, and he doesn’t know what they’re fighting for, what this war is about, but it doesn’t matter. “WE NEED YOU!”

The god of war appears, and he’s clearly come from some other battle, covered in mud and other worse things. He throws himself into the battle, but it’s not until they gain more aid that the tides turn in their favor.

He first sees Erato on the field, water swirling around her as she slices through them all, the power of her mother making her golden eyes glow. Clio is at her back, the glittering magic Hecate passed on to her filling her hands.

Thalia has long curved knives flying from her fingers, and all who face her don’t figure out they’re dead until she’s already left them behind. Urania is letting loose arrows against the giants and though she’s not his by blood, not a goddess by birth, none would know it watching each of her arrows hit true and take down another enemy.

Terpsichore uses her honed abilities of dance differently here on the battlefield, twirling and ducking around enemies with her sword flashing as it slices through all who go against her. Celestial fire licks up the sword, and the daughter of Hestia and Apollo is laughing as she dances through the battlefield.

He wants to yell at them, to tell them to get off the battlefield, to get to safety. But it is thanks to them that the fight is being won, so he says nothing.

Ares looks around, grimaces, and catches Apollo’s eye before he disappears from the battle. They must be invoking his name. Apollo is only grateful he managed to stay as long as he did.

The giants are all dead by the time Apollo manages to make it to his sister’s side. She’s pale and covered in blood, her huntresses seated around her and trying to stop the bleeding. “What were you thinking?” Apollo demands, grabbing her hand and pushing her hair from her forehead. Terpsichore comes forward and lays her burning sword against the wound, sealing and cauterizing it at once. Both Apollo and Artemis scream

“They – took – a – child,” she pants, leaning in for his touch, for his comfort, and he has never been able to deny her anything. He pulls her up, biting back a scream at the pain that rips through them both, and props her up against his chest. “A – nymph’s child. Zeus’s child. They killed – it’s mother. That – that sort of injustice will – will not be – tolerated.” She lays her head back against his shoulder, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes, and Apollo almost wishes the battle were not over, because he wants to murder something.

“I’ll get it,” Erato says, and a moment later she returns with a toddler in her arms. She has the copper skin of Zeus, and pale blonde hair. “What do we do now? Zeus does not care for his children.”

“I think it’s time you became a big sister,” Thalia says, and Erato looks stricken. “Right Dad?”

He looks to his sister, who nods. “I can think of no better place for her. She cannot stay with me – a hunting party is not place for children.”

“Very well,” he sighs. “Does she have a name?”

The girl attempts to hide behind Erato’s hair, then says, “I am Euterpe.”

“Welcome, Euterpe,” he says.

It’s then that the sun finally sets, and Calliope stumbles into existence next to them. She’s covered in deep, bleeding burns, but it’s not as bad he feared it would be. She’s certainly faired better at her first time driving the chariot than he had. “What’s happening? Is everything all right?”

“We have a new sister,” Thalia says brightly, even as Clio rushes forward to tend to her burns.

Euterpe, thankfully, seems to inherit none of Zeus’s madness. She has a singing voice like a clear bell, and soon surpasses even Calliope’s talent with the lyre.

He knows, technically, that Euterpe is his half-sister. But it takes him no time at all to regard her as his daughter, to love her with same simple ferocity as he loves her sisters.


For a while, all is well, is quiet. His daughters are all fully grown, accomplished and beautiful.

Then Demeter corners him when he’s walking through quiet city and pins him against an alley wall. “If Amphitrite thinks she can one up me over this,” the goddess hisses, “she’s sorely mistaken.”

At least this time he knows what’s going on when Demeter starts pulling her dress off. “You can’t raise the child,” he says. He’s not adverse to laying with Demeter, although at this rate it looks like there will be less laying and more standing against a rough alley wall. But Demeter only knows how to love in a way that crushes all it touches. He won’t let her do that to his child.

“Fine,” she snaps, “Now get moving.”

He’s vaguely terrified the whole time, and it mostly reminds him of his month with Hecate. He’s left alone and naked in the alleyway an hour later.

Nine months later, a baby is delivered to his door by a nervous wood nymph. His daughter still has the squashed appearance of a freshly born baby. “She didn’t waste any time,” he comments, settling her into the crook of his arms. “Does she have a name?”

“Polyhymnia, my lord,” the wood nymph says, then bows before fleeing.

He brings her to the home where all his daughters live.

She grows, and she’s the spitting image of Demeter, of Persephone back when she answered to the name Kore. Her voice is lower than Euterpe’s, but just as pretty and when they sing together it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. She’s quiet, and thoughtful, her big brown eyes watching all around her with a measured stare.

Polyhymnia asks after her mother, something none of the others had done, and Apollo doesn’t know what to say. The truth is too callous, but he can’t bear to lie to her. Instead he begs an audience with Persephone, and says, “Your sister asks after the mother you share. I don’t know what to tell her.”

Persephone has no advice to offer, but she starts spending some of her time outside of the underworld with Polyhymnia. It is enough, and her questions stop, and Apollo tries not to feel guilty that he never really answered them.


Cassandra is unlike any woman he’s ever met, unlike any person he’s ever met, and the flames of love and passion burn inside him in a way they haven’t since his Hyacinth died.

She’s bull headed and irritating, and whenever he tries to complain about it Artemis rolls her eyes and his daughters laugh at him. He supposes he’s not doing a very good job hiding that he’s in love with her. Not even from her, because at one point she crossly asks if he’s ever planning to do anything with her, or if she should accept the offer from the butcher’s son.

They don’t leave her house for five days.

She is curious, hungry for knowledge, hungrier for it then she is of him. She wants to know impossible things, wants to be an impossible thing, and so Apollo laughs and takes her hand and says, “I will make you a bargain. I will give you the gift of prophecy, if you will grant me the gift of your hand.”

He’s never take a bride before. He hasn’t wanted to.

Cassandra is screaming and laughing, and she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him until she’s breathless. He takes it as a yes.

That’s when everything goes horribly, incredibly wrong.

It’s too much, all the horror she sees is too much, and Apollo tries to tell her to focus on the good, to see the happiness of the future. But she can’t, gets too caught up in too many wars, and she wastes away in front of his eyes even as her stomach swells.

He tries to take back the gift, tries to save her, but he can’t. It cannot be ungiven, and his headstrong, vivacious lover fades before his eyes. He only manages to alter it, to change it so no one believes the horrible things she cries to prevent the horror people feel when she looks at them and screams the way that they’ll die.

Artemis helps deliver their child, but halfway through her face goes pinched and worried, and Apollo knows that Cassandra won’t make it.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, kissing her gaunt face, feeling the sharpness of her cheekbones under his lips, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know this would happen. I didn’t want this to happen.”

She looks at him with glassy eyes, barely reacts when Artemis places their child on her chest. There’s a growing pool of blood under her, but she can’t be saved, she will die, here, now.

Apollo wonders if she saw this coming.

She blinks, and meets his gaze with a sharpness and awareness he hasn’t seen for a long time. “She is your last daughter,” Cassandra says, “Melpomene is the last daughter you will have.”

He kisses her, his last chance to do so.

She’s dead before his lips leaves hers.

Apollo tries to flee, to run from the claws tearing apart his heart, but Artemis doesn’t let him. She yanks him back and pushes Melpomene into his arms. “You can’t leave,” she says harshly, “She needs you. Your daughter needs you. You’re not allowed to run.”

He crumples, leaning his head onto his sister’s shoulder as he sobs, and her calloused hand grasps the back of his neck. Melpomene is stuck between them, soft and warm and alive.

Time passes.

Melpomene is Thalia’s other half, her best friend, and they do everything together. Her dark hair is a mass of unruly curls just like her mother, her laughter is just like her mother’s.

She, like her sisters, is his pride and his joy.


Apollo has nine daughters

Calliope, who reigns over written epics.

Terpsichore, who reigns over dance.

Urania, who reigns over astronomy.

Thalia, who reigns over comedy.

Clio, who reigns over history.

Erato, who reigns over love poetry.

Euterpe, who reigns over song.

Polyhymnia, who reigns over hymns.

Melpomene, who reigns over tragedy.

They are known as the Muses.

gods and monster series, part xxi

read more of the gods and monsters series here

Draw me Like one of your French Girls... Part 1

This fic is dedicated to @yunyin who was a big part of bringing it about in the first place ^_^ 

(Warning some spoilers for ML Season 2- (Just the stuff we knew during the hiatus nothing important from the new episodes) 

“Listen furball, I am ten times as sexy as you are. That is just a fact. People would pay to see pictures of me.”

“People DO pay to see pictures of me,” Chat shot back.


“Never mind,” he grumbled, “the point is that I am obviously the sexier of the two of us.”

“Guys, I know this is a slow patrol night but you are giving me a headache,” Rena Rougue sighed, dropping down onto the platform and sprawling onto her stomach against the cool metal of the tower.

“Wait,” Chat said with a terrifying grin, “Rena. My dear, darling, friend.”

“Oh this can’t end well.”

“You are a fox of impeccable taste are you not?”


“And you are an excellent judge of both male and female attractiveness as well, are you not?”

“Ladybug is the hottest out of all of you,” she smirked, not bothering to get up.

“Yes, that is a given, but the point is-”

“The point is that I could pull off sexy far better than this mangy stray,” Bee interrupted.

“Could not.”

“Will you two please just stop fighting, it’s been too hot to deal with this level of stupid,” Rena sighed.

“It’s not stupid, my honor is at stake!” Bee huffed. “If you want us to stop then tell him that I clearly would be better suited to being a sex icon than he would.”

“Foxy lady, please tell Bee that she is clearly pollinating the wrong flower.”

Rena groaned. Clearly there would be no reasoning with the two of them until this had been hashed out.

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Who’s birthday is it?!! It’s KEITH’S!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY KEEF, I LOVE YOU

I also wrote a suuuuper sappy fic about that ring ^ down below!!


And now for the fluff :’)

Keith wakes to see a star outside of his window.

It’s a brilliant blue, dazzling and bright, and he’s immediately reminded of the mesmerizing color of Lance’s eyes, like the deep sea.

He rolls over and flings an arm out, expecting to come into contact with an entanglement of limbs and exposed wires, but all he grasps is air. Confused and still half asleep, he cracks open a dark violet eye and releases a wounded huff when he realizes that the other half of the bed is empty, its occupant long gone.

His heart makes a strange leap up into his throat but he shakes it off, pushing the paranoid thoughts away before they can nag at him. Lance probably left to get a system checkup. He does that, sometimes, in the early morning before all the hustle and bustle of the day’s plans crowd in.

Rest is under the cut!!

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“The only thing [the clones] all had in common was their appearance—although they were starting to age differently, she could see that now—and what the Republic had done to them. Apart from that, they were individuals with the full range of virtues and habits of random humankind, and she now felt completely at home with them. If she had a side in this war, this was the one she chose: the disenfranchised, unreasonably loyal, heartbreakingly stoic ranks of manufactured men who deserved better.”  Star Wars - Republic Commando: True Colors by Karen Traviss

10 Things I Learned as an Interviewer for the Interviewee

As a fourth year medical students (yikes) I was able to become an interviewer for my medical school. So yes, that means maybe someone I’ve interviewed may one day see this. Though probably not. Anyways, it was very surreal to be on the other side of the process all these years later and while I’m getting ready for interviews myself (anyone want me for residency, btw?)

A lot of expectations and previous notions about interviews that I had really did change and I can see how intricate the process actually is, and I get why we get asked the questions we do. At least somewhat better.                                                                   

All experiences and interviewers are different but here are some things I think can really help out the interviewee. Maybe things you thought were hard and fast rules but aren’t or things you didn’t expect us to be looking for. Anything to help! And while this is directed at pre-meds, the advice should still general enough that anyone can use it, if they want.

Some things to know beforehand; I was part of a two-on-one interview setting which lasted 30 minutes with a few preset questions we needed to ask. The interview was blind, so we couldn’t see stats.

Take a second to observe your interviewers.

This isn’t an open invitation to judge your interviewers, but most of us are pretty telling in the way we present ourselves. If you can take a break for the nerves for a second pay attention to our introductions, our demeanor and how we’re dressed. It can give you a sense of how relaxed or stringent we may be and what our personalities may be like even if we were told to stay stone cold poker-faced. And always keep in mind who your interviewers are and what departments they’re from. It can help guide the tone we set for the entire interview.  

Play off the interviewers.

Now that you’ve taken a moment to take in your surroundings use those to your advantage. If we’re playing tough, answer with strength and intention. If we’re relaxed, don’t sit so stiff and maybe get us to laugh. If you are asked thought provoking questions, take time to think about it and provide thought provoking answers. The more you work with us, the easy and more open a dialog becomes and the more personable the interview will become. It’s a great way to show flexibility and adaptation, and for the interviewers who did this well we found ourselves impressed.

If I’m offering you information, take it.

If I am telling you that I am a 4th year and I can answer your questions about rotations, classes, or student life I am literally giving you questions to ask me in the event you have forgotten all of yours. If faculty tells you which program they are a part of and what they specialize in they are opening that line of information for you. They are telling you were their interests and focuses are and you can run with that, if you like.

Please, please do your research.

We had an application who couldn’t tell us what they liked our school. Had no idea what the mission statement was or what the goals of the school were. Didn’t have a clue. I had to use my doctor face so I could stay neutral. It was bad. I get that you just want to be in medical school but come on. Point blank, there is no excuse for anyone to know nothing about the program they’re interviewing for. You should also have worked out answers for frequently asked questions. Getting stumped on classic medical school questions…it’s a big red flag. So please plan ahead and do your research.  

Pick the length of your answers carefully.

Different types of questions prompt different types of answers. There are a lot of questions that can prompt follow up questions. Hobbies for example; going into every detail about your hobbies is probably counterproductive. But that’s assuming you have a fair amount of things you like to do that aren’t medicine. You can add a snip here and there, like “I’ve done that for 15 years” or “it’s really a huge passion of mine” but if there is interest in hearing more, we’ll most likely ask. If you only have one thing, don’t think “I like running” is a good enough answer. Give us something to work with. There are questions, especially theoretical ones or tell me a story situations that are meant to be longer. And always keep in mind your time limit.

Be confident, not cocky.

There is a huge difference between smug and confident. We had one prospect who gave this shit-eating “gotcha” grin after every question they thought they had aced. It was almost like they were trying to directly challenging me. It got to the point that I stopped caring what they were saying and was just getting pissed. The answers could have been great (they weren’t) but all that stuck with me was the cockiness. Not sure if you do that unintentionally? That’s what practice interviews are for. There are very clear differences when someone was proud of an answer and were pleased, and what this individual was doing. And if you do act that way, personally, I don’t want you representing my school, regardless of what your application looks like.

I don’t care about the “right” answer. I care why.

I know there are certain questions answers that are kind of set in stone. And I know straying too far from say, an ethics question, is hard to do in a new and unique way. The way to make yourself stand out from the crowd is to explain the reasons why you believe this to be the “right” answers since those tend to differ among applicants and shows your critical thinking skills past “well obviously this is the right answer”. Aside from that most interviewers don’t have specific expectations for most questions. We’d rather just hear about you and your personal experiences, honestly.

We’re not always looking for your spoken answer.

Sometimes we’re looking at your body language. I will purposefully ask questions I know there are only a few answers too. Not because I want to know if you know it, but rather how you viscerally respond. Do you look uncomfortable when answering an ethics or grades question? Did you answer robotically? Are you still looking at me? Can you pick yourself back up after a rough question? What you do speaks just as loud as the things your saying and I’m looking for it.

Use your personality and responses to show you want to be here. Not your grades.

This was not an isolated event. I had a few prospective students speak about a class and sneak in “which I got an A in” and continue. Not really a fan of that. I naturally assume that everyone we interviewed had good enough grades and scores because, well, you’re at the interview. At this point in the process all I want if for you to shine beyond those things and prove to me that you can be a doctor on paper and in person.  

Make me feel connected to you.

In the end, I want to feel like I know who you are. I want to know what you stand for and I want to experience the person who wants to become a physician. I want to appreciate your story and how far you’ve come. We don’t need to become best friends, we don’t need to have similar thoughts or values or personalities. But I want to feel like we could understand each other now and in the future. Let me be excited about you and for you. Let me want you to be here so I can check accept.

I hope someone was able to get something useful from this because for all of you here dying to enter this crazy profession I want you to reach your goals. I really do, and I’m just doing all I can on the internet. Good luck to everyone on your interviews!

Bruise [ VIII ]

Genre [Rating] : Angst [M]

Length: 6k

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Summary: He wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his, but that couldn’t stop your heart from believing otherwise.

Bruise Masterlist

Originally posted by missmanfreda

The jacket around your chest felt too loose, cheeks puffy as the cool air nipped at them while you shuffle your feet against the damp pavement. The snow had melted but the low temperature had stayed, the ground covered by thin patches of ice. It was far too late out to be alone in front of the convenience store, but the buzzing of your phone fifteen minutes before hand had been enough to drag you outside at the hour. You’d wanted to see Chanyeol for days,  the both of you so busy you still hadn’t gotten a chance to see eachother more than a few minutes for an entire week. You’d been trying to focus on the overwhelming amount of coursework professors were dumping on you, while Chanyeol was having a busy time at the studio; at least that’s what he said.

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Pairings: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Style: One-Shot

Warnings: Some language and explicit sexual content. But overall, just pure fluff. :) 

Word Count: 1,370

Summary: You’ve got some explicit rules for watching Marvel movies with Tom, specifically ones that he’s in. But he has other plans.

A/N: Fun fluff that popped into my head while watching the Avengers a few days ago. Enjoy ;) (Not my gif!)

Originally posted by hiddelstonwife

“What are the rules?” You ask, shoving a handful of popcorn in your mouth as you plopped on the couch.

“Darling, I hardly think this is necessary.” Tom argued, dimming the lights from across the room. 

 “Ah, ah. Rules, Hiddleston.”

 Tom sighed. “No quoting the movie during the movie. No explaining how a scene was made during the movie. No watching of Y/N’s face during my favorite scenes to gauge a reaction.” 

 “Aaandddd…?” You sung out, reaching for another handful of popcorn. 

 “No talking during the movie.” Tom grumbled, finally getting comfortable next to you on the couch. You grinned. 

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Infinity - Made in the A.M. series

Originally posted by twofronteeth

Requests: 1. Getting into a fight with h at Anne’s house please. 2. request-going to lunch with h, his family, and your family. (These were two separate requests I just combined them)

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

A/N: I’m starting to work on the requests I’ve been sent, thank you so much to everyone who has been sending them! Feel free to send more 

It had been one of the best days you had had with Harry in a while.

Every day you spent with him seemed to be a great day, but he had been really busy lately so the two of you hadn’t been able to do much. You never blamed him, this was the lifestyle you signed on for after all, but you were still grateful for days like this.

The two of you had started the day with a lazy sleep in. Despite it being the late morning you had remained in bed, shifting from lying in each other’s arms to gentle, loving kisses for hours. The two of you shared some long-awaited downtime together, just drinking each other in.

But when the time on your bedside clock had hit 11 o’clock the two of you had begrudgingly gotten out of bed and started getting ready for the day. Anne had been planning this lunch for weeks and the last thing she would have wanted was for the two of you to be late. You both knew how her mind went to the worst case scenario when anyone was more than three minutes late.

So, punctual as ever, Harry’s car rolled into the driveway of his family home right on 12:30. You had gone to open the door to get out but Harry had grabbed your arm to catch your attention. “Hey,” he spoke softly, “I love you.”

You were sure your smile spread from ear to ear as you returned those three little words. You leaned over to place one last gentle kiss on Harry’s lips before you joined both his and your family for lunch.

When you walked in, both your families were already scattered in small groups throughout the house, each in separate conversations. “Y/N!” Anne exclaimed as she saw you walk through the door. She quickly made her way over to you and wrapped you up in a big hug, squeezing you so tight you could hardly breathe. “Good to see you too, Mum,” Harry joked as he stood to the side.

She gave him a light smack on the arm but pulled him into a hug seconds later. “It’s good to see you,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

The two of you spent the next half hour greeting the rest of the family members who were at the gathering and sipping champagne, up until Anne announced that the food was ready. You both took your seats at the table and seconds later Harry had placed his hand on your thigh, tracing small circles with his thumb.

For a while, everything was complete bliss. Harry was by your side and your family was all around, chatting and eating great food. You had always been very family orientated and times like this were one of the things you loved most in this world.

Everything was going perfectly until your mother brought up your family friend, Isabelle, having a baby last week.

“Hopefully it won’t be long until Harry and Y/N start giving us cute little grandchildren,” Anne said with a grin.

“Well, he better put a ring on it first,” you joked and everyone else laughed along easily.

Everyone, that is, but Harry.

At your words, he hastily removed his hand from your thigh and your laughing was cut short. A few people around the table, as well as yourself, noticed his sour expression, Gemma being one of them. With a quick glance between the two of you, she knew to change the subject.

“I’m thinking of visiting Isabelle and the baby tomorrow if anyone wants to join me,” she broke the silence that had filled the room. By now everyone had noticed that Harry did not appreciate your joke, so everyone was quick to latch onto her subject change.

You, on the other hand, just looked at Harry in confusion. What was his problem? The two of you had been dating for over three years now and had been living together for almost two. Surely marriage is what you were working towards. The two of you had never said it out loud before, but you had thought you had this silent understanding of what you both wanted for the future. But now you were starting to doubt this.

Harry refused to meet your gaze, eyes moving to whoever was speaking at that moment but never engaging in the conversation.

You stared down at your food, no longer feeling at all hungry.

“Excuse me,” you mumbled, standing in your chair abruptly.

“You alright love?” Anne looked at you in concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just going to the bathroom sorry,” you smiled at her, but it didn’t meet your eyes.

You quickly exited the dining room, acutely aware of Harry standing in his place and following you out. You walked all the way to the other end of the house before turning to face Harry, you didn’t want your families to hear any of this conversation. You opened your mouth to speak but Harry beat you to it.

“What the hell was that Y/N?” he snapped at you.

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200 Reasons To Love Jikook

1) When Jimin made Jungkook comfortable on the couch by bringing him a pillow and a blanket. He tucked him in and they fell asleep together in the living room. (BV s1).

2) When Jimin said that Jungkook is the member he would like to travel with because he would protect him from others. (Fanaccount).

3) Jimin using every cute variation of Jungkook’s name in his tags - kook, kookoo, kookie.

4) Jimin using the paw emoji after Jungkook’s name, the same emoji he used in his calico cat tweet. (JM’s twt).

5) Jimin serenading Jungkook with his part in Boy In Luv, “can’t get you out of my head.”

6) When Jungkook pinched Jimin’s nipple when Jimin leaned in for a hug and also the time Jungkook pinched Jimin’s neck to get him to move over. (Fancafe content & Bangtan Bomb).(Extra)

7) When Jungkook lifted Jimin bridal style to clear the limbo game and their faces were this close.

8) When Jimin had a nip slip in the middle of a performance and Jungkook was the only one who noticed and asked him to cover up.

9) When Jungkook literally moaned ‘I want you’ to Jimin who was in the middle of a photoshoot times three. (Now 3)

10) When Jungkook scolded Namjoon off cam, “How can you call a person dirty?” after Joonie said that they can’t touch the trophy as Jimin had kissed it. (Bangtan Bomb)

11) When Jimin groped Jungkook during DNA rehearsal. (Fancam).

12) When Jimin repeatedly hit Jungkook with a rubber toy to get a reaction out of him while Jungkook was talking to a fan, only for Jungkook to snatch it out of his hand to hit him back. (Fancams).

13) When Jimin dressed up as a Bok Choy (Napa Cabbage) so that Jungkook (The bunny) could eat him. (His words not mine). (21st Century Girl Halloween vers.)

14) When Jimin said that his favourite solo after ‘Lie’ is ‘Begin’ (JK’s solo). (Fansign)

15) When Jimin asked Jungkook to ‘accept his love’, twice on Jungkook’s birthday. (Danger Chuseok Spl.).

16) When Jungkook went up to Jimin to ask what his plans for Valentine’s day were. (Bangtan Bomb).

17) When Jungkook got distracted by Jimin’s hip thrusts and turned the wrong way during I Like It Pt. 2 Choreo. (Fancam)

18) When Jungkook laid his head on Jimin’s thigh during Ma City even though Jin tried to make him get up. (Fancam).

19) The times Jungkook used Jimin’s arm as his pillow. (Prologue Bts & BV s2)

20) When Jungkook filmed Jimin’s dance even though his arms hurt from holding the camera for too long. (Bangtan Bomb).

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BTS Reaction ; You Being Too Embarrassed to Moan

Ask sent by Anonymous, “Reaction request: Y/N being to embarrassed to moan? I love your page. You’re amazing 💗”

Note: I’ve been hella sick and missed two weeks of college and because of this, I have become a lazy ball of asocialness and refused to work on anything but watch Naruto. come at m e. but tysm anon youre so cute

Jin“Jagiya,” he whispered as you sat on his lap, bare, with your head laying in the crook of his neck. He could feel your sharp intakes of breaths, feel your flaming cheeks against his skin as he tried to see your eyes only to find them hidden beneath strands of hair. “Are you fine?”

He found your embarrassment cute, per se. Nothing could be heard as you nodded, your breaths seizing as the sound of slaps on skin bounced throughout the room.

Originally posted by jjilljj

Suga ➳ His heart melted at the sight of your watery eyes, looking to the side as you bit your lip to prevent yourself from moaning. “Babe,” he whispered, and your eyes quickly averted to his, red cheeks and damp skin glimmering slightly from the moonlight seeping through the curtains. “It’s okay.” He assured you, corners of his lips tilting up as he softly smiled.

Leaning down, his lips latched onto yours as he thrusted into you, the feeling of you moaning through the kiss being enough for him.

Originally posted by yoonsaur

J-Hope ➳ He couldn’t help but chuckle softly as his chest melded with yours, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he hovered over you. Just seeing you trying to hold yourself back from making noise had his fingers slightly wiping the sweat trickling down your temple to the side as he leaned close to your ear.

“You know,” he whispered, sending shivers down your spine, “if you moan, you’d feel so much better.”

Originally posted by coffeewithbts

RapMonster ➳ He found it rather rejuvenating seeing your shirt pulled above your breasts as your bra laid undone on the obsidian asphalt — your back was pressed roughly against the brick wall of the building inside the dark alley, yet, you did everything your power to keep quiet. You gripped onto his beanie,  and through the serenity of the chilly wind, no one noticed you two painted beneath shadows.

But, he said nothing, only enjoying this moment and seeing you squirm in embarrassment.

Originally posted by ksjknj

Jimin ➳ It was too quiet, yet, so much was happening.

He bit his lip, stomach coiling as he watched your hands clench into fists as your body trembled beneath the evanescing dimmed lights of the studio. The power was out, but the life still roared within him, gasping softly as he fell into you whilst still moving with so much power. “Don’t hold it in, jagi,” he whispered harshly, kissing your cheek, “let me hear you.”

Originally posted by bangtanboysbutterfly

V ➳ His hair was dripping with sweat as his eyes were clouded with longing, his visionaries boring into your own teary ones as the inside of your elbow covered your mouth to keep you from muttering any sort of sound. Carefully, he used his arm to unravel yours away from your face — a tear slipping down your cheek from his added warmth grasping your limb.

“Don’t be shy,” he breathed, his finger moving to flick your bottom lip as his hips continued to move with much more strength, “I love much.”

Originally posted by ivi-py

Jungkook ➳ To him, you were art.

Slouched on the couch as the tv flashed in the background, he pressed paused on his video game as you lazily sat on his lap — moving sloppily as your hand cupped over your mouth, becoming too anxious if Jungkook would ever take the chance to tease your moans and compare them to a character from the game. But he never did, placing his controller to the side as he gripped your hips and slammed into you. “You’re beautiful,” he grunted, “you know that, right?”

Originally posted by vkook-appreciation


Bruised (Richie/Eddie) 7/12

Summary: It’s 1993 and the summer from many years ago is dead and gone. Many have drifted apart from the Losers club and its at the point where there is no club at all. The atmosphere is cold just like the winter months and the only blushes to be found are the ones that are caused from the piercing spikes of cold that heat skin up. Being a teenage boy is hard; especially for the two boys that now count each other as strangers. In which both boys make a plan, but both disrupt each others.

Warning(s): Mentions of past self harm, child neglect, transphobic comments !!! ( I am not transphobic, but my series on the whole is triggering and these warning(s) are here for a reason.) SLURS ARE IN BOLD

A/N: here is your angsty richie chapter - KINDA RUSHED BUT ITS FILLER

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 |

Richie found himself alone in his car, driving home at roughly 8pm that night after his adventurous day with Eddie, his cravings for the cigarettes only growing stronger by each given second but his refusal to disappoint Eddie lurked on his shoulders. He was going to change for the better, just for Eddie.

His hands gripped at the leather wheel, his red truck gliding down the familiar roads with the faint radio humming along in the background. The melody intertwined itself through the vehicle, one of his favourite artists playing to soothe his road anxiety that he’d keep a secret.

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Fairgrounds and Ferris Wheels

Originally posted by loptrlaufey

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Content/Warnings: 1st person POV, lots of fluffy fluffy Loki

Words: 2289

Prompt:  ‘I wanted to go on the ferris wheel but there has to be two people to a cart come on random person let’s go oh wait are we stuck at the top? Fuck’ Changed it a little but you get the idea! 

Not sure how I feel about 1st person…What do you guys prefer? 1st or 3rd POV? 

“Can we get cotton candy?” I asked, words slightly slurred from the toffee sticking my mouth together. Jane shook her head ahead of us and pulled herself tighter into Thor’s side, this was her idea really. Her and Thor had worked things out after their break up and were taking things slow again, they still weren’t quite there with being comfortable with each other again so Jane suggested that instead of a solo date, we make it a group thing. Enter me, Darcy and Loki.

The funfair was in town so 4 votes against Loki’s one meant that here I was, two scientists, two gods and me. “Okay who want’s to go into the haunted house?” I squealed in excitement as I bounced over to the entrance, “Come on Jane!” A smile broke out on her face as she held her hands up in defeat. “I’m not going in there Y/N.” Pouting I looked over to where Loki and Darcy were standing, something had caught Darcy’s attention but Loki stepped forward with a small mischievous smirk on his face.

“Sorry Y/N, Loki’s gonna win me a stuffed dog!” Darcy called over her shoulder as she pulled an unwilling Loki over to a stall. I crossed my arms over my chest as my heart dropped into my stomach. “I’ll go on my own then.” I huffed before handing the guy a dollar bill, pushing the fake spider webs out of the way.

“Lady Y/N wait,” I heard Thor behind me as an old corpse bride sprang from a fake grave to the left. “You didn’t have to come with me Thor I’m fine by myself.” He fell into step next to me as we turned a corner to darkness, save for glow in the dark murals. 

I bit my lip at his silence, “You could have waited outside with Jane, it’s lame in here anyway.” I mumbled as a skeleton fell from the ceiling in front of us. “You should go and win her a stuffed animal.” Thor turned to face me again with a small smile on his face.

“What’s the significance of a stuffed animal?” He asked as we came to a stop in front of a mirror maze. I looked at our difference in height and huffed, “Nothing. It’s just what couples do is all.” Fiddling with my scarf I walked into the maze with Thor behind. “It’s just one of those stupid things people in love do.”

“Then why are you upset?” I sighed as I heard him stop behind me. I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head. “I’m not.” I lied.

“I’m sure Darcy just wants a stuffed toy Y/N,”

“I don’t care Thor, it’s nothing to do with me anyway.” Stomping off I made for the exit in an even worse mood than I was already in when I entered the stupid haunted house. Darcy and Jane were stood sharing the responsibility of keeping a giant stuffed dog off of the muddy ground they were standing on. To the right of them was a very bored looking Loki.

“Y/N look what we won!” Darcy cheered. I didn’t want to but I couldn’t help but smile at her childish joy from a stuffed dog. “He’s a bit small isn’t he?” I bit out, ignoring the pang of jealously I felt. 

“She wanted the big one.” Loki drawled from behind, walking over with Thor in hushed conversation. “I can see.” You whispered, following the two girls off to the next ride.

Thor and Loki were hanging back slightly looking like they were talking very intensely. The two brothers had arrived back on earth a few months ago and had been a part of daily life ever since, Loki especially. There was no real way of describing the relationship the two of you had, it started with hot chocolates that you would indulge yourselves with at your nightly 3am meetings when the two of you couldn’t sleep. You knew he had nightmares and you just couldn’t bear to leave him alone with them, so you started to set your alarm for 2:50am each night in order to meet the god dead on 3am.

“I’m going on the ferris wheel, I’ll catch up!” I shouted to the girls who had already began to make their way over to a hot dog stand. There wasn’t much of a que, mainly young couples who were waiting for a chance to have a seat and a snog. “Sorry, only two to a cart.” The operator coughed as I got to the front. “One of you will have to wait.”

Looking behind me I saw Loki and Thor had qued up too, Loki quickly glanced between me and his brother. “I’d better go and see if Jane is alright.” He spoke cheerfully as he clasped Loki on the back and turned away.

I turned to Loki who gestured for me to step in ahead of him. The carts were small with no step to rest your feet on, just a simple cushioned bench with a safety bar across it. There wasn’t much room once I’d squashed my hand bag into the side of the seat to prevent it falling out, this left me squashed arm to arm with the god of mischief.

“Sorry,” I mumbled as the operator pulled the bar down across us, struggling to secure it with Loki’s long legs. He shot me a questioning look. “You’re sorry?”

I nodded, “Yeah. You didn’t have to come on here with me you know, I can do things alone I don’t mind.” 

The cart started to move. “You’re independent to a fault but I don’t think even that would convince the old coot that you could ride in a cart alone.” I smirked, oddly proud that he thought I was independent.

“True.” Silence fell over the two of us as we climbed higher and higher. Loki shifted in his seat, his legs dangled and bumped into mine lightly. “Are you alright?” My breath hitched slightly as I realised just how close I was to the god. He nodded and wriggled his arms forwards over the bars, “Fine it’s just very compromising.”

I couldn’t help the giggle that rose at the sight of it. He turned to me with a quirked eyebrow, “Sorry, you’re just so tall really aren’t you?” Two hands rose to cover my mouth as I tried to hide the giggles as he fidgeted again only to lift his arms up into the air and place them over the back of the cart.

Suddenly the cold winter air had gotten much thicker. 

“Are you cold?” Loki asked just as the cart jolted to a stop. We were right at the top, peering out over the edge we could see our friends and the old man who owned the ride walk over to the generator.

“Did he just…” I mumbled as I squinted my eyes. “Kick the ride?” I turned to Loki in mild horror, “Did he just kick the ride? Why aren’t we moving?” He shrugged and relaxed back into his seat.

“I’m calling the fire brigade!” A voice yelled from the ground. I glanced at Loki who was already watching me with a curious look on his face. “Looks like we’re stuck here for a while.” I mumbled as a cold wind blew, making the cart rock a little too much. Instinctively I grabbed onto Loki as the cart continued to rock in the wind.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all…” I mumbled with my eyes squeezed shut. Loki hummed beside me and wrapped a hand around my shoulder. “This is the most fun I’ve had all night.” He chuckled from beside me.

Opening one eye I peeked up at him from underneath my lashes, “Seriously? You get dragged along on a ‘group event’ and the most fun you have is getting stuck in a cart at the top of a ferris wheel with your brothers girlfriends best friend?” I lightly teased, still tense next to him from the wind. 

He hummed and pulled me closer into him, “Yes I suppose.”

Struggling to manoeuvre my bag from the seat beside me I pulled out a hat and looked at Loki. “Are you cold?”

He shook his head slowly, “Frost giant’s don’t really mind the cold.”

Feeling more than a little embarrassed at forgetting Loki’s heritage I quickly stuffed the hat back where it belonged and stared out at the skyline. “Are you cold?” Loki asked into the silence, tilting my head I looked up at him staring out at the skyline too.

“You already asked me that,” I reminded him with a smile, “I’m alright. Though if we stay up here forever then my toes might slowly start to drop off.” He didn’t laugh with me, instead he kept watching the world go by. “You don’t have to worry about that you know.” I spoke quietly, eyeing my hands in my lap.

I felt his gaze fall to me without looking. “Making me cold I mean, I know Darcy and Jane always comment on it but it’s never really bothered me…” Mentioning Darcy again made the jealous pang return to my chest. “Is Darcy even ok with you being up here? With me I mean?”

His head snapped down to mine with scrunched brows. “I - I don’t follow,” He paused and glanced at the ground. “Why would Darcy care where I go?”

I snorted, “Aren’t you two…You know?” I clasped my hands together and motioned for him to get the idea. Instead he just stared at my hands blankly and shrugged. “No I don’t follow,”

“Together?” I laughed bitterly, “She’s been dragging you off on rides or to stalls at every chance she’s gotten tonight so I just assumed -”

Are you jealous?” He smirked, turning his body as much as he could towards mine. I could feel my cheeks heating up under his gaze. “No.” I choked out, “No I was just curious is all.” 

We both stared at the other for a moment longer before looking back out at the world surrounding us. “I was rather hoping you’d be jealous.” He commented quietly.

I stilled under his arm as the world seemed to stop revolving. What did he mean by that? Was there a hidden meaning or was he just being his usual teasing Loki? I mean, yes there had been those nights where the two of you flirted a little but it had always been playful and nothing had ever come from it. And yes you two may have fallen asleep on the sofa in Jane’s apartment one too many times but you always slept better when you were tucked under the lanky god’s legs and -

“Y/N?” He squeezed my shoulder with a nervous laugh, “Did I accidentally charm you into a coma?” He teased lightly as he pulled me closer into him and away from my thoughts.

“Quite possibly. You do always like a good flirt.” As quickly as the moment had come it was gone again. Do you ever flirt like this with Darcy? 

Loki seemed to sense the shift in atmosphere. “Perhaps if I were to flirt with Darcy she wouldn’t be as dense as you.” He huffed quietly.

I whipped my head up to see him smirking down at me once again, “Did you just call me dense?” I seethed, sitting up further in my seat. “I am not dense Loki! I -”

He cut me off my placing his lips on mine with a quiet urgency that was only too quickly returned. I tried to turn my body towards his but was confined by the safety bar, instead I pulled his neck further down and wound my fingers ever so slightly in his long hair. In return his hand pressed into my back, pulling me as close into him as possible. His lips were softer than I’d imagined and cool like the rest of him which only added to the rush that we both felt. His other hand grabbed at my waist eagerly as we both explored the other with teeth and tongue, time seemed to have stopped completely just for a moment.

The sound of someone clearing their throat behind us caused the two of us to break apart quickly.

Thor stood holding the cart still with a stupid grin plastered on his rosy face. “If you two are quite finished, I think the other passengers would like to get off.” Fumbling with the safety bar Loki helped guide us both with shaking legs back onto solid ground. 

Looking around for Jane and Darcy I opened my mouth and looked up at a beaming Thor, though he seemed preoccupied by staring at his brother. “Uh, Thor?” His beaming face shot to yours, “Where’s Jane and Darcy?” Looking around again I made sure I hadn’t missed them.

Thor began walking and we followed, Loki’s hand burning on my waist the entire time. “They got bored so carried on,” I glanced up at Loki and smiled feeling suddenly very shy around the tall god. “ - I think they may have made their way to the dodgems?” 

Loki chuckled beside me and squeezed me lightly, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to kiss you as much as I’d like too on that.” He whispered huskily, low enough for me to hear. I blushed and thought quickly.

“Thor!” I called as I pulled a confused Loki to a stop beside me, “I’m just going to show Loki that scary haunted house we went in earlier!” Pulling Loki behind me in a run I caught the knowing gaze he sent our way.

“About damn time.” Thor smiled to himself, making his way towards the next ride.


Originally posted by king-beluga

Pairing : Taehyung x Reader
Genre : Fluff, smut, Hybrid!au
Word count : 3428
Warning : smut, demeaning names

“Yeah, that one is famous. Have fun with it.“

Taehyung seemed distracted with some coloring book you brought for him as he halfway nodded without a look at your direction. Lazily lying down on his side, the rug of the living room under him. His palm holding his head as one hand was mindfully coloring the drawing. His features were adorning a bored expression but you still assumed he was focused on what he was doing. The soft dim light of the lamp was bathing his face in an ethereal golden glow. With a smirk, you could not help but state, humming a little behind the counter.

“It seems you love that one.”

A teasing smile made its way to your lips as you took a deep breath, your hands busy with putting away the cutlery from the dishwasher. It was a nice cozy and quiet Friday evening among others. Your heart warmed up by the sole fact your dog hybrid ate all the food you prepared for him as your warm glance laid upon him. He was peering into your eyes from behind his long enthralling lashes, deep voice echoing around the living room.

“Yeah, I think these coloring books are fun. Truly, they are work of art, in a way.”

You cocked one brow at him as you put one clean plate on the counter, making your way to your dog busy with the coloring book you bought from the store on your way home the day before. A frown made its way to the silver-haired hybrid’s tan face as his contemplative eyes crossed yours.

“I guess that…”

The hybrid ended up his sentence in a whisper, his eyes flickering back to the page he was before busy coloring. He seemed absorbed by the coloring book as his hand roamed over the many color pencils. After all, you were best to know art bathed in his precise and creative being.


“Well, what do you mean by “famous?” These are strange looking characters. I mean…You don’t see people dressed like this everyday. Are they from the TV shows you talk about so much? Because if yes, I really wanna check that show. Their world must be truly interesting.”

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summary; shawn is forced to choose between you and his girlfriend
a/n; seven pages of angst and drama all in one – my fav ;))



“Where’s Shawn?” Matt and your friends asked you for what must’ve been the tenth time tonight. 

You finished setting the last blanket over the couch as you claimed your favorite pillows for the night ahead of you. 

“Not sure,” You answered. “I’ve tried texting him for the past 15 minutes. The boy never checks his texts,” You laugh it off as you head to the kitchen to bring the two bowls of popcorn into the living room.

Shawn, Geoff, Ian, and Matt had been in town from Shawn’s tour for the last few days, and the five of you finally found a time to hang out again. You had all missed each other and since the tour had just wrapped up, everyone found tonight as the perfect opportunity to catch up. You had met the four boys through Shawn and although you had only known them for a few years, they felt like your brothers. They looked out for you and talked to you almost every day.

Shawn on the other hand, had been your best friend since middle school. The two of you met in English class in seventh grade and quickly bonded over each other’s love for Harry Potter and music. Although neither of you were the most popular in school, you and Shawn always had each other’s back through the years. He had brought smiles on your face during your worst moments, stayed up late with you during nights you couldn’t sleep, and given you advice that has stuck with you throughout the years. In turn, you supported Shawn’s music when the other kids at school didn’t, listened to his first song that he wrote, and cheered with him when he found out that he had just gotten his first major award show nomination. Now here you guys were, one year out of high school, and still partners in crime. You couldn’t of asked for anyone better to fill in the position as your best friend.

Everyone had gathered at Ian and Geoff’s place for a traditional movie night, but your best friend had been a no-show for the past half hour. Everyone including yourself was beginning to become impatient as everyone began making a dent into the stash of snacks before the first movie even played. You didn’t want to begin the night without him, but he had showed no signs of arriving any time soon.

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The Blog

warnings: oral (female receiving), a nsfw gif, unprotected sex, slight usage of the daddy kink

summary: your boyfriend, tom, eventually finding out about a blog you had prior to your days which contained a lot of sexual content that dealt with your fantasies for him

word count: 1,685

A/N: but this had so much dialogue i honestly am so mad?? i h8 that shit

Both you and your boyfriend, Tom, were lazily sat against the headboard with your legs under the duvet on a Sunday afternoon. Your laptop was placed against your lap wherein in front displayed a document that you were labeling on Microsoft for a presentation at your office — which honestly has not been working out because you literally had just a hundred words typed out.

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