it's been sitting in my drafts for a while and i just wanted to be done with it

The Tiny Anthropologist's Advice for College:
  • 8 AM classes really aren't that bad: It may take some willpower (and coffee) to get there, but really, 8AMs aren't that bad. Get a decent amount of sleep the night before and you will be okay. If I can get myself and my 4 year old out of bed, get ready, drop her off at preschool and arrive on time for an 8am, you can too!
  • Taking classes that meet once a week for long blocks: If your learning style is such that sitting in a long lecture once a week is something you can handle, then these are the best classes to take. Personally, I have done 3 semesters of these and they have been my favorite and the ones I have gotten the best grades in.
  • Scheduling back-to-back class periods: These can be beneficial if you're the type of person that just likes to get everything out of the way at once. However, the downside is that you will not have time to eat between classes, and you may have to grab something and eat during lecture. If the buildings for your classes are far apart, this may not even be an option. Having breaks between classes is important to allow yourself mental relaxation and to eat, or catch up on work.
  • Don't be afraid to change your major: I've changed my major a lot, like maybe 8-10 times. The downside is that I am graduating a year late, but I took A LOT of fascinating classes and became a much better rounded student. Colleges know that student change their minds. If you switch majors 2-3 times, you won't end up behind. I'm a special case.
  • Take long-hand notes: You may feel strange taking long-hand notes while everyone else is typing away at their MacBooks, but long-hand notes are MUCH more beneficial as far as long-term memory goes, and you don't run the risk of being distracted by Facebook.
  • Dress appropriately for class: The college stereotype of everyone attending class in their pajamas isn't true. At least make the effort to throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Your professors will notice if you look like a slacker in class, and dressing nicely (or at least not in your pajamas) shows them that you value your education and respect their lectures. People wear anything from casual clothes to ties to class, and everything inbetween. Don't be afraid you'll be overdressed, being underdressed is much worse (in my opinion).
  • Cultivate relationships with professors: ATTEND OFFICE HOURS. Close relationships with professors are massively helpful! Professors are much more willing to write letters of recommendation, look over rough drafts, or help you out via email at 10pm for students that they know than ones that they don't. Additionally, professors can be some of the most interesting people you will ever meet.
  • Attend class: Along the same lines as above, attending class is very important. You (or your parents) are paying for you to be there. You should try to get the most out of that by attending lectures that you have signed up for. Additionally, when it comes finals time and you need to boost your grade, no professor is going to help you if you haven't attended their lectures.
  • Invest in a water bottle: Nothing is worse than sitting in a lecture dying of thirst.
  • Invest in a messenger bag, tote bag, or backpack: You don't have a locker in college and chances are your dorm will be far away from your classes. Make sure you have something to carry anything you'll need, from books, to pens and pencils, to a laptop, or even snacks like granola bars.
  • Take notes: Do it. Your professor knows more than you, that's why they are at the front of the room. Listen to them, and write down what they say. Then study it. This is how you learn.
  • Utilize the library: Other than during finals week, the library is pretty much a guaranteed quiet place to study. Additionally, college libraries have databases for research papers, printing services, and a whole lot more for students.
  • Eat alone if you want/have to: No one will judge you. I promise.
  • Annotate your books: Especially if you are an English/literature major! It is a lot easier to simply take all of your notes in the novel than to copy down page numbers and quotes into a notebook. Textbooks (like science ones) can be annotated too!
  • Don't let anyone shame you about your major: Each major is difficult in its own way. Don't let anyone make you feel like you're taking an "easy" major or that they are more intelligent than you because they are in a "hard" major. STEM majors are not better than Liberal Arts majors, and Liberal Arts majors are not better than STEM majors. Ignore anyone who says otherwise. Ignore anyone who says your major is pointless. This does not only apply to fellow students, but family, friends, and the world in general.
  • Prepare for advising periods: Class offerings are usually posted before registration is open. Take an hour to become familiar with the requirements of your department and the individual college it is in (if applicable), as well as University/institutional requirements (IE at UMass, my "college" is the College of Social and Behavioral Sciences, while my department is Anthropology. The university itself, SBS, and Anthro all have different specific requirements I must meet to graduate) and make a list of classes you would like to take that satisfy these requirements. Advisors will appreciate it.
  • Take advantage of campus resources: Many colleges and universities have numerous extremely helpful resources, such as employment services which will help with resumes, or counselors for when you're having a hard time. Use these. They are there for you.
  • Keep yourself organized: Notebooks, highlighters, a planner, flashcards, an expandable file, binders, folders, literally whatever you need to keep track of all your papers, assignments, due dates, and what you need to help you study is important for you to have. If you don't know what helps you study or what keeps you organized, try some different systems or do some research.
  • Keep your syllabi: Every semester I buy a different notebook for each class I am taking, and I always keep my syllabus folded in half in the back of each notebook. It has saved my ass numerous times.
  • Check your email or the course website before class: Nothing sucks more than being the only kid who didn't know class was cancelled, especially if you're a commuter and you drove in/took the bus to a class that isn't happening.
  • Give yourself plenty of time: Whether its getting to class, doing homework, or writing a paper, make sure you give yourself enough time. This is especially important for commuters. I can promise you that you will need more time to drive to class than you think. I live less than 40 minutes away from UMass and I still leave 75-90 minutes before class starts.
  • Understand your learning style: Do flashcards work best? What about mindmaps? Answering questions at the end of the chapter? Understand what allows things to sink into your mind the best, and utilize that method of learning.
  • Honestly, you can get by with SparkNotes: I was an English major. We had to read, a lot and I didn't always read the novels. I used SparkNotes and skimmed chapters. While I wouldn't recommend relying on this entirely to graduate, it can help in a pinch.
  • Skipping class: I know I just told you to go, and I do mean that. But sometimes you need to skip class and be lazy or frivolous, and that's fine. Don't make it a habit. I usually allow myself 1-2 "mental health" days per semester. HOWEVER you should be VERY clear on the absence policy of your professors. Some don't take attendance, and others will kick you out if you miss 3 classes. It's always in the syllabus.
  • It's okay to withdraw from a class: Getting a W is better than getting an F. If a class is too much for you, then it's best to step out of it. Most professors will understand, and most grad schools and jobs will too.
  • Be kind to yourself: It's easy to only value yourself through school, as in what grade you got on a test, or how your GPA stacks up against others but we are all human and sometimes we fuck up and sometimes we do poorly and thats alright. Learn from it and move on.
  • Take care of yourself: !!!!! This is very important. Eat as well as you can/enough, sleep enough, don't become addicted to or dependent on drugs/alcohol, exercise (even if its just walking to class), take showers, etc. Sometimes taking care of yourself takes a back seat to taking care of your grades OR to having too much fun, and neither is a good strategy. Yes, college is a time to assert your independence and have fun and party, but if you do too much it will begin to affect your grades and your health.
  • Try to get internships or research assistantships/independent studies: These will look great on your resume and a lot of them are quite interesting/enjoyable. It shows initiative, drive, and motivation! Professors usually have independent studies and career/employment services (if your campus has that) can help with internship placement.
  • These are basic things that I have learned during my college career. I'm sure I could come up with more, but I hope this is helpful!

Note: Here is the last part for this. FINALLY! I know this has been in my inbox for so long and I started writing this but then I lacked creativity and since then it`s just been stuck in my drafts folder. But now I`m done with it so I hope you enjoy it. Also this bacame a little longer cause I found a really good soundtrack that sparked my creativity :D

BTS version


Short backstory:

You have been together with him for a year soon. Everything seemed fine for so long, he was nice, funny and always seemed to know how to make you smile when you were feeling down. Now however he was different. He was gone untill late, barely talking to you and when you asked him about it he`d answer you with short annoyed statements, almost angry. You had tried talking to him more than once but he wouldn`t listen. This is what made you draw your conclusions and you decided it might be better for him if you dissapeared. So packing a small bag with your most needed belongings you ran away.

Rap Monster

Stress had taken its toll on him lately as his mind was flodded with mission plans and coordinating the meetings and whatnot. And today it`s been even worse. Namjoon wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a few hours of sleep, instead however he found himself destroying the apartment in a fit of rage. He had come home to find a note from you, saying you were sorry for using up his time and apologizing for not being what he wanted. So after taking apart the place he used his contacts to locate you before making his way there. He`d grab you wrist making you look at him before furiously yelling.

“Why the fuck would you do that? Why the fuck would you run away? Are you crazy? Do you know how fucking worried I was?”

When seeing your scared face he`d look defeated, calming down. He wasn`t angry with you at all. It was himself he was angry with really. So in the next sentences he made sure you understood just how much you meant to him. He`d let go of your wrist, instead catching both of your hands his and continuing in a soft but firm voice.

“I can`t loose you. I was a fucking dickhead I know. I was so caught up in my work that I neglected what`s most important in my life. You. Y/n, I am so sorry I did you so wrong. You are not a burden. You are the only thing keeping me sane. Shit, I never beg but if it takes begging for the rest of my life for you to stay then I will. Please y/n. Don`t leave me.”

Jin

The last few months have been a disaster. Things just didn`t play out the way he wanted and it was driving him insane. Today especially. That`s why he decided to get off work earlier. Maybe a quite day at home was what he was lacking. And if he was honest with himself he missed you. His happy thoughts of cuddling and a nice dinner however were thrown completely off board when he stepped into the bedroom to find a suitcase packed on the bed and you trying to close it. Your head would whip around to look at Jin when you heard him ask what you were doing. 

The next few minutes where filled with you explaining your feelings to him while you profoundly apologized for being a burden and not being good enough for him. Jin would be silently listening to you, not because he was being polite but because he didn`t know what to say. He couldn`t believe he made you feel this way and the only thing he wanted right now was to make you feel wanted again. So he did the only thing he came up with. He kissed you. Pouring all of his feelings of shame and longing into it. And as the kiss progressed so did his yearing for you and as you were both laying beside eachother, sweat cascading your bodies and heavy breathing filling the air around you, he said out loud what his actions just now have said for him.

“I love you y/n. Please don`t leave me.”

Suga

Yoongi isn`t someone you play around with. Everybody knew that. But it turned out that there were people who don`t see it as a threat but rather a challenge. Ever since he found out that he had a spy in his group he was on edge. Snapping at everyone and everything. You included. He wasn`t proud of it and he knew he was being too harsh. So when the day finally came that he cought the traitor and dealt with it he set his mind on making it up to you. But he was too late. As he came through the door he knew something was off. He had tried to call you earlier but you hadn`t answered. He had wondered why. Finally finding your letter he got his answer, finding out that his plan of making it up to you came too late. 

He was shocked to find himself calmly sitting in his office rather than trashing the whole place, but he knew this wasn`t the time to throw a fit. He knew you still loved him, or so you said in your letter. The only reason you left was his incompetence to remind you of his love so he just had to show you. And he was determent to make sure you would never question his loyalty and love to you ever again. After having his people drive you back to his office he now stood infront of you. He felt a pang of guilt hit him when he saw how sad you looked as he started talking. 

“My job is important to me and you know that. You also know that this situation I was having was out of the norm and demanded a high level of attention. That being said, I also thought you knew how much I love and care for you. But I understand why you would run away. I have not done my job in giving you the attention you deserve, by that letting you think one hell of fucking aweful things and I cannot apologize enough for it. Fuck. You know I`m bad with words so I`ll just get to the point. I need you y/n. I would never forgive myself if I let you leave like this so stay with me. Please.”

Saying the last sentence he gave you a small black box, inside lay a promise he swore to never break.

J-Hope

You had never seen him like this as he was always the smiley, bright and positive Hobi around you. So drawing your conclusions out of it, you must have become a burden to him. It hurt like hell writing your note to him and even more so to leave your shared flat for the last time. Hoseok didn`t notice any of this as he was currently trying to stay calm at all the stupidity going on around him. This had been going on for a few months now and he was sick and tired of it. When he finally left work he was worn out once again. His tired eyes would scan the flat curiously as he didn`t see nor hear you anywhere. Feeling his heart speed up he found your note on the kitchen table, your apartment key next to it. The next few hours were a blur. The only thing he could remember was a call to his team with the demand to find you and him releasing all of his stress by tearing up the place and screaming his throat soar. Now he was in a car on his way to your location, nervously bouncing one of his legs up and down. 

The moment he saw you through the window, he jumped out of the car running to you and catching you in a tight hug. In this moment nothing around him mattered except for you. As he reluctantly pulled away and locked eyes with you he couldn`t help but tear up, no letting go of all of his feelings.

“You don`t know the fear I felt when I found your note. I.. I can`t loose you. I don`t want to loose you. I`m miserable without you. I am so incredibly sorry. I truly am. I was a horrible partner and I understand if you hate me now but y/n, I love you. I will change. I promise. Just give me a chance. I swear to make you happy. Just… don`t leave me.”

Jimin

His heart broke the second he read the first line of your goodbye letter. All the problems he had thought were crazy important just a few seconds ago were now nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to loosing you. His chest rose and fell quicker at the thought of you sitting here alone with these horrible thoughts of not being good enough gnawing at your mind. Not to mention the constant pushing away and screaming he had done to you. But the thing that bothered him the most was that you didn`t leave him because he was an asshole. You left because you thought you were a burden. This was the point at which he would be sitting on the kitchen floor, your letter still in his hand, as he stared blankly infront of himself. He would need a good hour before he finally got back the courage to get up and find you.

With the help of his people he`d get your locations in the matter of a few minutes, not loosing any time to set out to your location. He didn`t want to let you go around with those thoughts for a single second longer. The moment his eyes would meet your, from crying, bloodshot ones his heart would break a second time. He quickly grabbed your arm and drew you close to him when he saw you trying to run. In his arms you tried to protest, telling him he`d only make it harder for you to leave if he kept holding on.

“Good. Then I`ll never let go. I don`t want you to leave. Never. I know this doesn`t make up for my behavior these last few months in the slightest but I am so so sorry y/n. You only deserve the best but what I did was worse than the worst. I made you believe you were useless and a burden when in reality you are all that I am fighting for every day. I don`t expect you to stay when I let go of you now, but please know that I really, truly love you.”

And holding on to his last straw of hope he let go.

Taehyung

This was the worst day of his life. Not because his million dollar deal had gone to hell. Not because several utterly important files had been stolen from his organization. And not because his right hand man, that he had trused for years, turned out to be a traitor. They were not the reason he was currently driving at an inhuman speed down the streets, his hands sweaty and heart beating so fast he thought it was going to burst. No. The reason for why he was a mess like this was the apologizing letter you had left him on your shared bed. His mind was buzzing with guilt, and quite frankly, anger. Not at you but at himself. He was sure he shouldn`t be driving in this state, but the thought of losing you was too much for him. His mind telling him you`d be where you felt the safest. In the park where you two had first met. More precisely on the bench under the great oak tree where you two had fallen in love. 

And he was right. He found you sitting there, your head in your hands as he could hear your sobs filling the cold air of the night. He`d be careful when approaching you. Any signs of his recklessness from earlier gone as he didn`t want to scare you. He`d hesitantly stand infront of you, your tear filled eyes staring at him as he softly spoke up.

“I knew I`d find you here. You really love this spot don`t you. I do too. After all, this is where I found the love of my life. Someone I thought I would never find. But it seems I have fucked up bad. I didn`t treat you the way I should have and now your head is filled with these… these horrible thoughts that aren`t true. You should be mad at me. Yell at me for being the dick that I am, butinstead you are blaming yourself. Y/n, I don`t deserve you in any way. I never have. And if leaving me will make you happy I won`t stop you. But if you still love me, like I love you, please… don`t go. Let me make it up to you and show you how important you are to me.”

Jungkook

If he thought he was beaten down already from his day, now he was truly broken. This situation was completely overwhelming him and he didn`t know what else to do than angrily walk up and down the living room. His hands, no, his whole body shaking in what he could only describe as rage and sadness. He was trying not to cry but failed miserable at it as he noticed wet trails on his cheeks. He had found the note you left him and had immediatley tried calling you only to hear the sound of your ringtone in the livingroom where you left your phone. Now he was only waiting for his men to bring you back. 

What the fuck could take them so long? He was waiting for over an hour already and his patience was wearing thin. That`s where the door would open and you`d step into the apartment. Right on time, he was sure he would`ve gone crazy had it been just a few minutes longer. You couldn`t even say a word when you were suddenly enveloped in a hug, his head tightly pressed into the nook of your neck and his arms having a grip on you as if he was afraid you`d crumcle beneath his hands. And as he felt you hugging him back he let go of everything he had failed to say to you.

“I love you so much y/n. I love you. I don`t even know where to begin to tell you how sorry I am for making you think I wouldn`t love you anymore and that you are a burden. You are anything but useless to me. You are all that I am waking up in the morning for. I made a horrible mistake at not taking care of you when you were feelings this way and I apologize for it. If you still love me, I`d like you to stay here with me. I swear to take better care of you from now on. Whatever you want me to do, I will do it if it makes you stay.” 

cathcer1984  asked:

Sorry I feel like I'm being a pain, asking so often... but do you guys have a werewolf convention tag? Where things like Electricity in the Contact and Wake Up Call and Pretty in Tents and similar fics would be? If this makes sense? ... its late and I'm not wearing my glasses. Thanks in advance.

AND

Anonymous said:Can you rec some werewolf convention fics? Thank you x

Omggggggggggg….NO.  I had this huge post almost done, and then accidentally dragged another tab on top and it reloaded this page, so I lost everything *wails*.  I think I recovered most of the links, fingers crossed!  (damn you, Tumblr!!!  Let me save replies as drafts!!!!!)  -Emmy

Originally posted by batlabels

Indulgence by Inell

(2,500 I Explicit I Complete)  *sterek, emissary!Stiles, married!sterek, public sex

Derek and Stiles indulge in a mutual kink in a hotel corridor outside a crowded ballroom during a werewolf conference.

Pack Dynamics Among Born Werewolves by alocalband 

(3,009 I Mature I Complete) *sterek, enemies to lovers

A Werewolf Convention AU in which both Derek and Stiles are complete nerds about supernatural politics.

Anything But Dull by tryslora

(3,593 I Teen I Complete)  *stackson, fake!sterek, arranged marriage

Politics is everything at a werewolf conference. Stiles is pretending to be Derek’s boyfriend. Peter is trying to make alliances by marrying Jackson and Malia off to other packs. And Jackson is frustrated by wanting the one person he can’t have.

Only Fools (Fall) by werewolvesandarrows (nerdy_farm_girl)

(4,836 I Teen I Complete)  *derek/stiles/scott

Scott knew this was a bad idea from the get go.
Okay, maybe not quite, but let’s just say he had some reservations about bringing Derek and Stiles to the Northern California Alpha Symposium as his guests. He was willing to take a majority of the blame, but he just wishes someone (coughLYDIAcough) would have stepped in and straightened this out before things got out of hand.

Operation Get Derek Laid by Kikileduc 

(5,109 I Mature I Complete)  *sterek, secret relationship, spark!stiles

There’s pining, misunderstandings, confusion, a little jealousy…

Stiles and Derek they have a nice thing, no one knows, yet. The issue is, they want their alpha to get lucky at the werewolf seminar, and well Stiles thinks Derek wants that too…

Two Beds + Three People by KuriKuri

(5,145 I Explicit I Complete)  *derek/stiles/scott, polyamory

“You’re not going to try out the bed, Derek?” Scott asks, and Derek really, really hopes Scott doesn’t notice the way his heart skips a beat. There are many ways Derek can think of trying out Scott and Stiles’ hotel bed, none of them appropriate.

(Or: sour skittles at a werewolf convention.)

Alpha and Emissary by Chiomi

(6,319 I Teen I Complete)   *sterek, magic!stiles

One hears rumors, seeping out of Beacon Hills on waves of smoke and blood.

And then one sees the True Alpha’s Star Wars swim trunks.

The whole weekend is very unnerving.

My Best Decision (Has Yet To Be Made) by only_one_word 

(6,563 I Teen I Complete)  *sterek, emissary!stiles

Stiles knows a couple things about Derek:
Derek doesn’t like to speak in full sentences in the morning
Similarly, he doesn’t like asking for help

Family Unit by AsagiStilinski

(8,851 I Teen I Complete)  *sterek, magic!stiles, packmom!stiles, roadtrip

So werewolf symposiums are a thing

That’s a thing that exists, it’s happening, it’s in the world now

And Stiles doesn’t know what in the name of hell he did to deserve this

(“It’s a mixed supernatural convention Stiles, not a ‘werewolf symposium’!”“)

We Have Potential by dragon_temeraire

(10,196 I Teen I Complete)  *sterek, fake relationship, werewolf culture

Derek has finally been invited to the annual North American Werewolf Convention. The only problem? They’re expecting him to bring a significant other. He doesn’t actually have one, but everyone volunteers Stiles for the job.

Mates and Mushrooms by mikkimouse 

(11,536 I Explicit I Complete) *sterek, fake/pretend relationship, sex pollen, dubious consent

Derek’s not that excited about spending three days at a conference getting propositioned by every Alpha with a single pack member. Stiles has a plan to make it stop.

It might be a great plan…if only Derek weren’t head over heels in love with him.

It might be an even better plan if someone at the conference didn’t have a vested interest in Derek staying single.

Find Me Sitting Poolside by TroubleIWant 

(14,286 I Teen I Complete)  *sterek, fake/pretend relationship

“Oh, and you’re the Hales!” the host exclaims when Stiles slides the sign-up sheet back. “Or, Hale and Stilinski, I guess. For now.” She gives them a conspiratorial wink. “I have to say, we are just pleased as punch to see an adorable couple like you attending!”

Stiles tosses an arm familiarly around Derek’s shoulders despite all the bags hanging off them, and gives him a squeeze. “I know! We’re pretty much the cutest. Right, honey?” He shoots his Alpha a shit-eating grin.

Derek bares his teeth in what’s probably supposed to be a smile, except that it isn’t, in much the same way that they are supposed to be a couple, but aren’t.

Survival is a Habit by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere 

(15,805 I Not Rated I WIP)  *sterek, spark!stiles

Nearly a year after the Hale pack defeated their first real threat, Talia gets a call inviting them to attend the Triennial Pack Convention.  

They gladly accept, hoping to use the TPC as one last celebration before the younger members go off to college, but when a series of events puts the pack at risk, they find themselves in desperate need of allies.

Love You Harder by tryslora 

(24,886 I Explicit I Complete)  *scott/stiles, unrequited love, fake/pretend relationship, emissary!stiles

Pretend dating is hard. Like really. Like walking around hard all the time hard. Stiles is starting to wonder if he’s going to survive the experience.

Espy Me, While I Watch You by frostedgoddess 

(27,280 I General I WIP)  *sterek, spark!Stiles

Derek Hale is a lot of things; Alpha, leader, survivor, and hopeless closet fanboy to the devastatingly cute YouTube sensation, Spark Stiles Stilinski.

Then, Derek’s betas come up with an amazing plan to get Derek an emissary. Any Alpha’s dream come true.

And it will be, if Derek can juggle his responsibilities as an Alpha, judgement, guilt, and roughly a metric fuckton of self-loathing and doubt about whether he’s good enough for a beautiful thing like Stiles.

It’s Free (And Always Will Be) by kellifer_fic, maichan808 (maichan)   

(31,681 I Explicit I Complete)  *sterek, werewolves are known

Stiles starts looking around, like there’s someone who’ll rescue him from this painfully awkward situation and Derek can’t blame him. All he can think is this is some kind of elaborate prank Laura is playing on him after she’d found his pile of Fangboy back copies last month.

Or, the one where Derek has to marry a human to save Clawbook and it turns out to be Stiles. He’s completely doomed.

Of Werewolves and Dolphins by Ilovesocks_24 

(53,506 I Teen I Complete)  *sterek, scott/isaac, friends to lovers

  “Stiles, come on! It’ll be fun,” Scott said. “You can’t deny that seven days in the Caribbean on a cruise ship full of hot, single werewolves won’t be a good time.”

 “Maybe for you,” Stiles said. “Because you’re tan and have a six pack. No one is going to talk to me at all. Also, fun fact: I’m not even a werewolf.”

 “You don’t have to be a werewolf to come,” Scott said. “You just have to be twenty-one so you can drink. Or so hot guys can buy you drinks,” he added, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

 “No, thanks,” Stiles said, shrugging. “Go on without me, just send postcards with all the hot guys you meet.”

 “They’re stopping in Cozumel,” Scott said. “It says here that you can swim with dolphins.”

 “Did you say we could swim with dolphins?” Stiles asked, curiously. “Like the ones that do tricks at Seaworld?”

 “That’s what swimming is,” Scott said, eyes gleaming.  

 “When do we leave?” Stiles asked.

Or the one where Scott convinces Stiles to go on a werewolf singles cruise. Stiles is really only going for the dolphins. Until he meets Derek.

You Make My Heart Ache by grimm 

(248,910 I Explicit I Complete)  *sterek, parrish/stiles, nogistune/stiles, mates, stripper!derek, bakery au

Based on this prompt & photo! I couldn’t resist. :D

Rating: General
Applicable Tags: Fake boyfriends, Fluff

Lost (Peter Parker Imagine)

Originally posted by tomhollanderr

request: “Hey! How about the reader is coming over to comfort Peter after he lost the internship or smth. instead of going to an, for them, very important event? Like a concert of their favorite band, or a meet and greet or something? Like they looked forward to that evening for a very long time but Peter is more important. And Peter feels bad about that but it’s just really fluffy and they confess their feelings for each other? Idk just an idea 😅 Love your work 💕❤” (requested by @theweirdlunatic)

short summary: ^^

length: 2.6k words

warnings: kinda sad bc ya boy lost the “internship”…lol yah

A/N: idk how i feel about this either i feel like i lost my mojo bc of school truly sorry guys its been a minute sorry this took forever sorry this isn’t just one dance part 2 bc i know y’all really want that i promise it is like half done in my drafts. but here’s something read on fellas


“Yeah, I’m about to step outside to wait for you now,” you said excitedly into the phone as you talked to your best friend. You were haphazardly putting on a pair of jeans while balancing your phone between your ear and your shoulder. 

The two of you had gotten tickets to see your favorite band that you’d won in a radio contest about a month before. It was somewhat of a miracle considering there was no way that you’d be able to afford it otherwise, being an unemployed teenager makes it hard to do anything. But, one of the two tickets was in your possession and you were excited to see your favorite band after years of listening to them.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Any chance of more a hundred lesser faces soon?

A Hundred Lesser Faces: Ten 

  • Section One {A Hundred Lesser Faces} what if Voyager!Claire had gone first to Lallybroch instead of directly to the print shop in Edinburgh? :  [(One) (Two) (Three) (Four) (Five) (Six) (Seven)
  • Section Two {A Hundred More}, the aftermath of Claire and Jamie’s reunion, following their journey as they work to build a new life together [(Eight) (Nine)]

“Mind yourself, laddie,” chided the cook from behind as she passed by the doorway. “Pay heed to that blade, or ye’ll be cuttin’ your throat along wi’ the beard!”

He answered with something lighthearted and offhand, for she was a kind woman and he greatly appreciative of her generosity. Whereas the innkeeper had shuffled sleepily off to bed as soon as he’d paid for their lodging, she—a lady of advanced years who bade him address him as Flora— had ushered him to her own chamber off the kitchens and settled him before the glass with soap, water, and razor, ‘at no charge, laddie, dinna fash yerself.’

Jamie saw to his surprise that the face in the reflection was nearly smooth. He’d been shaving mindlessly, it seemed, only the skill of long habit guiding his hand while his mind wandered—raced.

God in Heaven, did I not survive all those years of loneliness only by dreaming of being in Claire’s bed? And yet here he was, about to walk up the stairs and enter that very place, that sacred, hallowed place, and damn him, his hands were trembling.

Thank God they’d managed to exchange those few words after their hasty meal. She knew for certain now that he wanted her. That worry had weighed on them both, he thought; a natural insecurity given their age and long absence. But even as he’d left her standing there at the table, he’d known she was still hesitant, that something about the impending intimacy between them still troubled her. Damn his eyes, he ought not to have left her side until he’d discovered what it was, that nothing might be between them. As it was….all he could do was wonder. 

Did she take other men in our time apart? 

…Apart from Frank, he supposed he meant. She had gone to be the bastard’s wife again, after all, and certainly there would have come a day when they resumed—when they likely would have— Well, and they had loved one another before Claire had fallen into his own life, had they not?

But after the Englishman died? Did she seek out comfort in other lovers? Were they on her mind, tonight?

Though it made his blood heat and boil to consider it, he could hardly cast the first stone with regards to that possibility. He thought of Geneva, of Mary, and despite the accustomed pangs of shame, he couldn’t truly regret those nights, after all. Mary, in particular, had given him the gift of touch, something for which he’d starved himself for seven long years. Her tenderness, her softness with him had kept him feeling human for a long time after. If Claire had felt such emptiness in her time, if someone had offered her the same gift, that ounce of sanity, his most reasonable self (not to say the loudest of the voices in his mind) could hardly begrudge her for having taken it. 

If that’s indeed the case, though….what will she be thinking on, this night? About….how those other men were good to her? Or because they were cruel? Jesus, what if—

“I must say,” came Flora’s voice again as he finished and set the razor down, “we dinna often get folk hereabouts that care so verra much about how they look.” Glancing up at her in the mirror, he saw that she was examining him appreciatively—not lewdly, but as though taking genuine pleasure in the sight. 

He gave a gracious bow, grateful for the interruption from his uneasy thoughts. “Then I’m all the more grateful, Mistress Flora, that ye were able to accommodate the needs of a poor, vain wretch so down on his luck.”

She hummed graciously and dipped her head, wiping her hands on her apron. “Bound somewhere important in the mornin’, are ye?”

“Nay, it’s only that I’m here wi’—” He cleared his throat. “Wi’ my wife, this night.”

“The brown-haired lass? Well, an’ I should ha’ HOPED she was your wife, a ruiadh!” she snorted. “We’re no’ runnin’ a house of ill-repute!”

Jamie wondered what she would say were he to divulge that he was, technically, willfully engaging in bigamy. Technically only, thank God. “Aye, she’s my wife,” he said firmly, to reassure both Flora and himself. “We’re reunited, this day, after a long separation.”

Separation?” she repeated dubiously. 

“We…” He needn’t say anything at all, of course, for it was no one’s business but their own; but even despite his worries, he couldn’t help but grin (and feel the prickling of tears in his eyes) to share their news, even with a stranger. “We each thought the other dead for many years, and found each other again only hours ago.” 

“Oh, how GRAND!” Flora beamed, clapping her hands together, then coming over to clasp his own warmly. “And what a blessing! God was smilin’ upon ye, and no mistakin’ it.” 

With a startling flood of both affection and grief, he realized that it was Glenna Fitzgibbons she minded him of. Corpulent of body and cheery of feature, she moved with that same indomitable energy, certain of her domain and any that chose to enter it, and yet warm and lavish in showing love and care to those in her charge. 

She took a step back to look him over again, then gave a derisive pfft. “Well, in THAT case, a shave isna goin’ to be enough. I’ll draw ye some hot water so ye can wash up a bit wi’ a cloth. I’ll fetch some of my best chamomile soap for ye, too.”

“That’s most kind, Mistress Flora, I thank ye,” he said in genuine gratitude. With sudden inspiration, he asked, “Will ye offer the same to my wife? Not—” He flushed. “Take care that she doesna think I’m insinuating that she—ah—”

“She already requested a basin and got it, dinna fash, though I didna ken the grandeur of the occasion.” Flora was already bustling about, and he could hear the sounds of water being ladled into a ewer from the hearth. “We’ll reserve the insinuatin’ for comment on your own person. Beggin’ your pardon, a ruiadh, but ye stink to highest heaven and back.”

“Canna just say that you’re wrong,” he laughed.

A long-lost wife…restored….” Flora murmured contemplatively as she returned and walked about, gathering the bathing supplies. “All the more reason to scrub the road off ye, then, for as bonnie as ye are, I dinna think I’m wrong in observin’ that she’s a good sight fairer, even on yer best day.”

“Aye, she is certainly that,” he said, laughing at the spirit of Mrs. Fitz present here, that could make him feel warm and happy even while being fussed and picked over like an unruly bairn that’s fallen in the manure pile. 

Ten minutes later, he was wrapped in linen towels, shivering from the icy drafts of night air on his wet skin, but clean for the first time in weeks. Flora had left him be as he bathed, but as he was casting about for clothing, she reappeared, tsked, bade him ‘Be still, wee gomeral. You’re far from done,’ and plunked him down onto a stool with surprising force. A moment later, a warm, woolen rug settled around his shoulders and she took up a spot behind him, beginning to work through the snarls in his hair with a comb.

After a time of sitting tense and ramrod-straight, he closed his eyes and surrendered to the calm of it, to the soothing sensation of the tiny tugs at his scalp. His mother had brushed his hair just so, when he was a wee one prone to snarls from rough days at play. Years later, his Claire had done the same, her touch light and soft. She had always brought his face around, when she had finished, to kiss him, sometimes melting down into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck…

God…

Claire. 

That very woman, his beloved wife….She was upstairs, waiting for him. He could still scarcely comprehend the joy of that simple truth. She was whole. She was here

She’s expecting me…

Expecting a man that can please her. 

And therein was the greater part of the worry that had caused his hands to shake. Jamie wanted so badly to give her pleasure as he used to, and yet he hadn’t satisfied a woman—not in that way, not to his knowledge—in over twenty years. With Mary, and then with Willie’s mother, it hadn’t felt the time or place for that kind of passion. With Laoghaire—God, how he’d tried, but with no success. Try as he might to justify himself by insisting that she had been cold long before they wed, and there naught HE could have done about it, the icy fingers of doubt gripped at him, now. 

I wasna able to please one wife. What if it wasna Laoghaire that was the problem at all? What if I canna—

There, laddie,” Flora interrupted with fond finality, smoothing the back of his head tenderly before moving to the table. “That’s much better, aye? And here’s the fresh shirt. Tis many years old, but clean and sturdy, and should fit ye well enough.”

“You’re verra kind, a nighean,” he said, touched by her care and not a little hoarse from it. He examined the shirt. “‘Tis extremely well-made,” he commented appreciatively, seeing the fine, strong stitches, the linen showing hardly any signs of wear.

“Made it for my youngest….Tàmhas,” she said, with a catch in her voice. “…Drumossie, ken?” He gripped her hand. He knew. 

A long time after she’d excused herself, Jamie stood before the mirror, staring at the man therein; and, unbidden, the vice around his heart eased, a calming peace flooding inward in its wake. 

Even if he made a grand mess of this, even if he couldn’t please her the way he used, or made himself to look a fool, this was still a day of miracles. Here he stood, in the garment of a man who had died on Culloden field—died as and where he himself should have died—and yet, he had his sight, his freedom, the use of his hands and legs, a home, and a living…and Claire had been restored to him, beyond all reason and all hope. 

He brought his hand up and kissed the scar at the base of his thumb, pressing it to his heart, as he had done for twenty years. It was theirs, now, this world, to do with as they wished, and though he didn’t know what those wishes might be, he knew there was no fear greater than the hope he had in his wife. In them

As she’d said herself only hours ago, ‘we’ll manage with the rest. All the rest.’


Come in,” came her startled answer.

The candlelight danced beautifully around the walls, bathing all in a warm, red glow. Claire was already underneath the blankets, but they fell away as he entered, showing that she’d a sheet wrapped around her, tucked under her oxters like a garment. “Sorry,” she mumbled as he stared at her bare, elegant shoulders framed by the dark curtain of her curls. Her cheeks reddened and she dropped her eyes. “I—didn’t have a shift or anything.”

“No, dinna be sorry,” he said hastily. Lord, there ought to be no sense of forwardness between them now. They were married, after all, and in fact, the very notion that she’d undressed for him made his heart lighten even more than it had downstairs. If he had had any doubts, still, that she truly wished him to—

“You shaved,” she said.  She was smiling, weakly, nervously, but with real happiness across the dim room. “Let me see?” 

He set his things on the table by the door and came to her, kneeling beside her on the mattress.  She came up on her knees before him and took his face between her hands, gasping a bit as she ran them up and down. “God…you’re just the same, too.”

“A bit worn ‘round the edges,” he murmured, following her touch with his cheek, savoring her.

“But beautiful,” she whispered. She traced the lines around his eyes, the crooked knot—yes, that would be new to her—that now shaped his nose.

They knelt there, knee to knee for a long time, clothed in their linen wrappings, just drinking in the sight of one another. 

She swayed precariously of a sudden and he reached out a hand to catch her round the middle but she fell backward onto her hand. Her eyes went wide with shock as she realized what she had done, and she covered her face with both hands, shaking. “Oh, Jesus…” 

It was almost like being back on the hill, that shock and hurt. “Mo ghraidh….?”

No, she hadn’t just fallen. She had recoiled from him.

“Mo ghraidh?” he implored, reaching out a hand but not daring to touch her. “Claire?” 

She was crying. He thought she wouldn’t reply, and she didn’t, but she did reach out blindly and grab onto his hand, hard. He clung to it, nudged closer and pressed it to his lips, then his heart.

“I’m sorry—” she was whispering, hanging her head. “I’m so—so sorry—”

“You’ve naught to be sorry over,” he said intently, keeping her hand pressed tight to his chest. “What is it, lass? Is it— same as was troubling ye below? Over…going to bed wi’ me?”

“I want this—” she gasped out, “I want it—Want to touch you—want you to touch me— but I’m so—just so—”

“…what, Claire?”

“—afraid,” she gasped out at last, her voice a strained whisper between quick, shallow breaths. “I’m so afraid.” 

He forced himself to speak softly. “….Of me?”

“NO!” she breathed at once, shaking her head, hard. “Jesus Christ, no….Just—Damn, I don’t—It’s just—FRANK, and—”

Fr—?” Jamie felt rage boil up within him, revising his conclusions from those earlier speculations and feeling them burning through his mind. “Did he hurt you, Claire? If the bastard forced—”

NO,” she moaned, vehemently, “NO, Frank would never do that. No. Not his fault. It’s me. My fault.”

His chest eased, but the thought of what else the bastard Englishman might have done to her for all those years—MUST have done to her to make her feel these things, to be ‘afraid’ in a man’s bed—was enough to make him wish to slash his way through the goddamn stones and kill him… were he not already dead.

“Claire, hear me,” Jamie said with decision, squeezing her hand in both his own. “We dinna have to do this, tonight. We shall—” 

“I’ve wanted you every day these last twenty years—” she interrupted, her eyes squeezed tight shut as she laid one hand on his chest. “And I want you now, Jamie, I do. God,” she moaned, “more than I can—” She took a deep, shuddering breath and trailed off. 

Mo chridhe… you can say anything to me. Anything. Ye ken that, aye?” 

“It’s just been so long,” she whispered, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Frank was the only man who touched me since you and I parted, and I—I can barely wrap my mind around what it’s supposed to be, anymore.” 

Christ, it shouldn’t matter to him—and he cursed himself roundly for a shameful, wretched hypocrite—but he silently rejoiced and shuddered in relief. Only Frank. 

“I don’t know the way, anymore, Jamie,” she was saying; so mournful and heartbroken, that voice. “Something—It took something from me, to be…to be without…to not…Damn…Fucking, fucking damn….

He remained kneeling beside her as her breaths stayed shrill and strained, waiting, trying to think. Frank hadn’t forced himself on her, and yet their intimacy had left her with fears and doubts, had her struggling to look him in the eye. 

Could it simply be that they never found the secret of one another after she returned? Just as Laoghaire and I did not? 

“It’s…maybe no’ precisely what ye mean, Claire…” he began slowly, very quietly, “…but I can say in truth that I havena felt— joy in a woman’s bed since ye went away…. Is it anything like that?”

She stilled and looked up at him, then nodded, whisky eyes glassy. “Yes.” 

A pulse of relief and love filled him and he grasped at it, reaching out and cupping her cheek, holding onto her lest she slip away again. “To be hungry and desperate?” he went on, holding her eye with such sadness in both their hearts, “and to get something of it, to crave it again and again because ye think that this time it will be better, but to always leave the bed all the emptier in your heart? And feel that emptiness hardening ye into someone ye scarce recognize?”

“Twenty years—of—” 

It was a long time before she could manage to finish. When she did so, it was so faint he couldn’t understand her.

Heat,” she repeated in a whisper as desolate as the winter wind outside, “without light.

…Heat without light….

Aye, that was just the way of it. Need and hunger and the fire rousing to slake it, but no accompanying brightness, no beam of light in which to bask and be soothed in one’s heart. No relief or comfort: just rippling scalding, choking air that suffocated, rather than sustained. 

“And it used to come so easily, with you, the heat and the light together,” she whispered, trying not to fall apart, “I need it again so badly, and yet I’m afraid… of what I’ll do if I can’t give you that same—” 

Sorcha.” 

The word fairly burst from him, breaking his face into a smile of pure joy without his bidding.

“W-what?” she croaked.

Sorcha,” he said again, brushing the hair from her eyes. “’Tis your name in Gaelic, mo chridhe. Did I never call ye that, before?”

“Not that I can recall.”

He’d thought of her by that name for so long a time: her very self in his own language. His forehead pressed against hers, he looked deep and long and lovingly. “It means ‘light.’”

She inhaled sharply and gasped out something like a laugh. “You’re making that up.”

“Even in English, the root of your name has to do wi’ light, or brightness, or clarity….Et en Français, aussi.” 

“Au clair de la lune….” she recited. By the light of the moon. 

“Aye, just so.” He had her face in both his hands now, and he thumbed away her tears, kissing the tracks left behind. “You are my light, Sassenach. Ye always have been, in name or no.’”

 Her lips trembled as she smiled. “And you’re mine.”

“Then we’ve everything we’ll ever need.” He kissed her. “We can love, and never fear.” 

Claire fell slowly into him, then, wrapping her arms around his neck, weeping, not in despair, but in the sweet surrender of trusting, of loving. 

“When we wed,” he whispered into her ear, kissing the dear, warm spot just behind, “we barely kent one another. Ye didna want me for your husband, that was clear enough, and I had resigned myself to what ye could and couldna give me…. And yet that light was upon us even that first day, aye? Even wi’out your willing it, ye felt it, that—that— rightness between us?”

“Yes.” She was nodding, hard, her hands gripped tightly in the back of his shirt, her lips softly caressing his neck. “I felt it.”

He held her tight, rocking them gently. “We didna earn or deserve it, that day. We hadna prepared for it or practiced it as to be ready or worthy. It was a GIFT, that joy and ease between us. I believe it shall be granted us again, just as freely.” 

And in saying it, he, too, believed, the last of his own fears and insecurities loosening their grip and floating away.

He kissed her neck, her hair, then tucked her to his chest and laid them down, holding close around her back as they lay facing one another. “Tell me what’s in your heart, Claire.”

“Thought I had been,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes, though he could hear the hint of a smile. 

“Nay, but if we were to stay just like this until morn, only sleeping in one another’s arms, and leaving the rest for another—”

She made a frustrated sound. “I’m not saying I don’t WANT—”

“I know,” he cut her off gently, half-laughing, “I ken, Sassenach, but there’s nay hurry, aye? There’s the two of us now, and I’ll not let ye go.” 

She touched his face and exhaled, trying to smile. 

“Aside from any fears, what is in your heart right at this moment?” 

“….Happiness….” she said at last. “…such unfathomable happiness.”

“Aye…” 

“I…I can hardly believe you’re here. That I’m here.” Her voice cracked. “I’m still reeling from relief and joy from the hill….and I’m…overjoyed….” She ran the back of her knuckles down his cheek, staring intently into his face. “…that you finally know about our daughter…that you’ve gotten to see her face and learn that she’s safe….. that I’ll have the rest of my life to tell you about her.” 

He kissed her hand, pressing it tight against his lips. She kept on, the sorrow and abating from her voice with every word, replaced with warmth and joy. “I’m grateful that I know about Laoghaire…and the girls….and William…. I want to know more, in time, but there are no secrets between us, now, and that’s—You are who you appear to be….as I remembered you to be…..And Jamie, I’m so happy you’re alive,” she choked out as she pressed her forehead to his, her voice trembling, “and I can’t believe we finally get to keep one another this time…. To have you and hold you… I couldn’t ask for anything more….Nothing.

“I have two hands,” Jamie said hoarsely as he held her, “and they’re yours…. I have a body, and it is yours….. Anything that I am, I give to ye freely again today, Claire Fraser.”  

At hearing her name, that name, she let out a tiny, broken sound and pulled him down to her mouth. Almost at once, the kiss changed, became harder, urgent. His mouth and his hands and his body responded to hers without conscious thought, seeking her with every movement, every breath. 

His arousal was strong, violent, but he forced himself to pull back enough to look into her eye…..and at last, there was no fear written there.  

With a ferocity that startled and ignited him, he captured her mouth and slid his hand beneath her head as she rolled onto her back. With the other, he untucked the sheet from beneath her arms and bared her, sliding his hand down her length. She moaned into his mouth as he cupped her boldly, felt the warm, wet fullness of her there between her thighs, and that sound was honey to his soul.

She moved with him, the two of them joined by the trailing of his fingers through the slick center of her; her gasps when he moved up toward that small, precious spot; the exquisite pain of her fingertips digging into his flesh as he circled and caressed it. Claire was coming alive for him, moving against his touch to double every sensation. He could have wept only to feel her rouse to him so, but to watch her face breaking again and again with that beauty, to hear against his neck the same sounds that he’d treasured in his heart all those lonely years—He felt as though he were running up a mountain and down it again all at once. “Claire,” he could only groan into her hair, her skin, scarcely aware of his own body, enthralled to hers, “Jesus, Claire….”

“Jamie—” She was mounting and gathering under his touch, her legs and hips moving languidly, her cries becoming more urgent and and more frantic with every stroke. 

“Aye, Sassenach,” he moaned, circling and pressing harder, feeling the throbbing wetness of her. “Now—please—”

Wait,” she panted, slipping out from beneath him and pushing him back onto the pillows. It didn’t cross his mind to question her. He obeyed by instinct, pulling off his shirt and emerging from the cloud of white to see her straddling him, poising her body—Jesus, her exquisite body—just above him. He was half-sitting, hard and aching for her. Her legs trembled with wanting, too, but she reached slowly forward to pull him up, to kiss him, to press herself against his chest and twine her fingers in his hair. Their eyes locked and the world vanished for a moment in a burst of breath and light as she sheathed him to her. 

He grasped her tight, hands gripping and holding as the two of them gasped and shuddered from the shock and wonder of being joined and naked; ONE. Her breasts were so full, begging for him to put his mouth on them, but he couldn’t look away from her face.  

“Jamie—Love—” she moaned, settling him still more deeply within her body. 

“Claire—” 

He could see tears gathering in her eyes even as her entire body trembled and shuddered with the growing tension. She gasped and rolled her hips, her hands shaking and her breath catching, eyes fluttering.  “I’m going—to—”

Please,” he begged, “please—let me feel you—” He moved within her, and she upon him— And almost instantly she cascaded around him, pulsing and rushing and crying out with that sound—THAT SOUND— “Sorcha,” he moaned, her release nearly taking him, too. He couldn’t hold her close enough, couldn’t treasure her deeply enough. “Mo sorcha….”

“More,” she moaned before he could say more, grabbing his face and moving along his length with a ferocity that tore from him a feral sound to match her own, “More.”

He lost all speech and all restraint. He plunged up into her, his mouth on her neck, her breasts; his hands raking across hips and thighs and arse. They moved together, he taking her and she, him, joined in a fury of need and love that had them both gasping and snarling and moaning and near-weeping.

At one pass, she thrust down upon him such a way that he nearly lost himself, and in a flash, he was throwing himself forward with a growl so that she was beneath him, his hands under her buttocks, pulling her to him fiercely with every movement. Claire cried out, a sound of both need and satisfaction that echoed around the room. They were on fire, the two of them, thrusting and seeking with such wild energy, it was like nothing he had ever felt before. Every inch of him burned for her.

But there WAS light along with the burning. Even as they raced and tore and pounded, her eyes were in his and she was shining, smiling even as she destroyed him. As they each neared the end, they were beaming, glowing with such the most glorious joy. The most glorious light

After it was over, after she had come around him and he within her, there had been no slumping of exhaustion, none of that immediate, selfish isolation of the mind and body in adapting to the altered state. He had pulled her at once back up and knelt; knelt so that she could hold him as much as he, her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and cupped his head in both hands, touching his hair, his face, saying his name again and again like a prayer, as he was hers. They were both crying, hard, but they were tears of joy, a cleansing of all fears and all sorrows. 

“Thank you,” he gasped out suddenly, broken with it, “for coming back for me.”

She had left everything. She had left EVERYTHING she knew, the entire life she had built, on the mere hope that he still needed her. He did need her. He always would.

She held him, body and soul. “I always will.”

The One Where Beca Doesn’t Give A Fuck How You Say His Stupid Name

A/N: SURPRISE I WROTE A FIC… ITS BEEN A HOT SEC. here’s some trash, you animals. and also bc @ssbechloe was super cute when she asked if I would write one. So thank her not me. OK BYEEE.

PS: please for the love of Jebus and all things holy, stop tweeting Kay Cannon hate about this whole Chicago thing. It’s not her fault. She only wrote the draft and Universal sucks. (Sincerely, Me who is overprotective and possessive over my homegirl KC)

It’s not like Chloe didn’t know. Like there’s literally no way Chloe couldn’t know. Or was there? Okay there was definitely maybe sort of kinda a slight possibility that she didn’t. Who knows. All Beca knew was that she was stuck back in the hotel in God only knows what country that week while Chloe was out at dinner with Cincinnati. Or was it Connecticut? Maybe it was Columbus. Ya know what, who gives a shit. 

“Beca why the heck would you let ginge just go on a date with him?”

“What do you mean? Amy, she’s not mine. I don’t have ownership over Chloe.”

“Your eyes say otherwise.” Amy sipped her drink and glared over the rim of her glass.

“My eyes? The only thing you can see is that my pupils are dilated because you keep making me drink, my eyes say that the tequila is winning. And besides, if she didn’t want to go, she wouldn’t have.” Alright, maybe her eyes were a little extra glossy because she was crying after Chloe left earlier that night but that doesn’t mean she loves Chloe, okay?

“Lie.”

“Excuse me?”

“Beca she doesn’t care about Chicago!”

So THAT’S his name…

 “Whatever! Are we done here?” Beca stood up, slammed the last of her drink, and walked toward the door.

“Beca, this is your room where are you gonna go?”

“I have no idea but I can’t sit here and drunkenly discuss Chloe shit with you… again. For like the hundredth time.”

“We wouldn’t have to discuss it if you would just sack up and kiss her already.”

“She doesn’t want me to kiss her. I’m not going to kiss her.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Mitchell.”

“I’m outta here.” Beca shook her head and walked out the door. As it slammed behind her she looked up to see Chloe walking in her direction down the hall.

shit fuck damn. She mentally facepalmed before looking up.

Beca! Hey!”

She cleared her throat, straightened her flannel (the author would like to point out the irony of that statement), and mustered the best fake smile she’d ever mustered. “Oh! Hey Chlo. Back from dinner already?” 

Beca could’ve stopped and kept talking to her favorite person to ever grace the presence of planet Earth, but she decided to go back to staring at the ugly carpet and walking down the hall.

Chloe turned as Beca passed her, confused as to why she didn’t stop to talk to her. “Becs, where are you going? I was just going back to the room.”

“I’m uh.. just going for a walk. I’ll be back later. Don’t wait up.”

“Beca I-”

Beca quickly turned around to warn Chloe with a hard blink and a snap of her fingers, “Oh! Careful upon entry; Amy and tequila.” 

She didn’t know where she was walking to. She didn’t want to hear Chloe gush about Chicago. Quite frankly, she didn’t even want to see Chloe’s face, so she just kept going.

– – – –

In complete disregard to Beca’s er.. orders.. she got back to her room around three in the morning to find Chloe in fact waiting up and in fact drinking tequila on the bed.

Beca softly let the door click behind her for some reason thinking Chloe wouldn’t notice. She’s drunk not blind, Mitchell. Nonetheless, she kept walking through the room avoiding the harsh eye contact from the ginger on the bed. 

Hey.”

“Oh. Uh.. hey Chlo.”

“Where did you go?”

“Bar.”

“Even though we’re fully stocked up here?” 

Beca was gathering up her toiletries and pajamas and walked toward the bathroom.

“Yup.”

“Are you okay?”

“Nope.”

“You wanna talk?”

“Nope.”

She reached the door, not looking at the sad Chloe behind her.

“Bec-”

“Goodnight, Chloe.”

door slam.

– – – –

The next morning was very uneventful. Uneventful meaning Aubrey had them up at nine to rehearse for a show they didn’t have for two more days. Only five girls showed up. Beca not being one of them.

“Has anyone talked to Beca today? She was gone when I woke up.”

“Trouble with your lady, Chlo?” Amy wiggled her eyebrows at the redhead who rolled her eyes in return.

“No. She was just really weird last night.”

“Maybe you should just talk to her.” Weird, coming from Aubrey. But okay.

“I tried. She wouldn’t.” Chloe continued stretching and racking her brain.

“Well, are you surprised?” CR replied after swallowing a gulp of her water. “Beca never talks to any of us, only you.”

“Yeah, which is why I’m surprised. Hello.” Chloe was frustrated and waved her arms.

“I don’t know Chloe, just give her some space?” Jessica and Ashley said in unison, obviously.

“Yeah Chloe, don’t pressure her into talking. One time my brother did that to our cousin about baseball cards and he threw up all over the chicken coop and we didn’t have food for weeks.” Guess who (Okay, Flo).

“Wait… Does everyone here know something I don’t?”

All of the Bellas turned to look at each other wide eyed and concerned. No one said a word until Chloe sighed heavily, nostrils flaring.

“Alright pitches, spill.” 

– – – –

Amy 7:08pm: Chloe is onto you.

Beca 7:09pm: I swear to god if any of you said anything

Amy 7:10pm: we didn’t. 

Beca 7:11pm: then how is she ‘onto me’

Amy 7:12pm: guess you’ll just have to talk to her.

Fuck.

Talking to Chloe was not the most appealing option at the moment. Neither was going for a run to clear her head, because lets be real - Beca Mitchell does not under any circumstances run. Unless of course it’s from every problem she ever faces ever. But somehow cardio sounded a lot better than talking to Chloe right now.

Beca 7:15pm: I’m going for a run.

Aubrey 7:17pm: Where are you going?

Beca 7:19pm: BMitch shared her location

– – – –

Aubrey wound up going after the brunette five hours later when she didn’t show up for dinner. Little did Beca know, she brought company.

They both got out of the car and walked out to find Beca sitting on the edge of a tattered dock with her feet in the water. The sun was close to being set and it would be dark soon, whether or not Aubrey was still captain she had a responsibility and didn’t want to leave her out there alone.

“What the fuck Posen?!” Beca stood up from her seat on the dock and put her other headphone back in preparing to run off again down the beach. Aubrey gripped her around her right wrist as she tried to run by.

“Just talk to her, Beca.”

“I’m not talking to any of you!”

“Beca, please?” 

The DJ looked up to see the redhead’s eyes borderline bloodshot. She’d been crying, how convenient.

“Fine, Chloe. You wanna talk? So talk.”

“Why are you being such a bitch right now?!”

“I’m not!” Beca groaned, threw a hand to her forehead in frustration, and threw her head back.

Aubrey let go of Beca’s wrist as soon as she trusted the brunette enough to not make a run for it again, “I”ll be in the car.”

“Becs. It’s just me. Talk to me.”

“I can’t, Chloe.”

“Why?”

“Because I fucking can’t, okay?”

“Is this about Chicago?”

WHAT? You seriously think I’m mad because you went on a freakin’ date with that cabbage patch kid?” 

“Okay so you are mad. Good to know. We’re getting somewhere.” Chloe huffed in annoyance and crossed her arms.

“Jesus Christ, Beale. I’m not mad because you have a love life.”

“So when did you plan on telling me you’re lying?”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh come on, Beca.”

“Don’t ‘come on, Beca’ me.”

“Fine. You don’t wanna talk? I’ll talk for you. I know what you’re thinking like 80% of the time anyway, right?”

“Chlo- stop.”

“No Beca. I won’t stop. This is stupid. We’re standing here in the middle of a beach halfway around the world six years later and you still won’t tell me how you feel.”

Beca sniffled, crossed her arms, and avoided eye contact, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So you’re not ever going to tell me you love me? That you have this entire time? That me going out to dinner with Chicago last night didn’t completely eat you alive?” Chloe started walking closer, cautiously, to Beca.

“Then why did you fucking go?!” Beca screamed through tears, finally making some sort of eye contact and quickly averting her stare back to the hole she’d dug in the sand with her toes.

“I went because newsflash I’m allowed to have a life, Beca! You won’t even talk to me ever since this whole shit-fest started. Heaven forbid that means I go out to dinner with someone other than you.”

“Chloe, that’s not- ugh. I’m not doing this!” Beca turned to take off and Chloe threw herself infront of her.

“No Beca! You’re not fucking running away from me again! Not now.”

“I can’t do this Chlo!” Beca tried to run again but Chloe blocked her so she threw herself into Chloe’s arms, finally letting out the heap of tears she’d been holding in the whole week.

Chloe tightened her arms around the younger girl and rubbed small circles on her back, not saying a word for a solid five minutes. She finally broke the silence when the sobs from Beca started to slow down. “How’s it goin?”

Beca still wouldn’t look at her, but she pulled back. “Sorry. Uh. I don’t know where that came from.”

“I think I do.”

“Yeah well, congratulations. What do you want, a cookie?”

“Shut up.

“It’s okay to let yourself feel, Becs.”

“I can’t. I’m a badass. I have street cred. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

She finally looked up at Chloe to see those big blue eyes spilling just as many tears as she was. “So… were you ever gonna tell me?”

“Why would I Chlo?” 

“Because we’re Beca and Chloe. We tell each other everything. No matter what.”

“Yeah, well apparently not evertying.”

“Okay true. I guess I also kinda forgot one small detail.”

“Wait wha-”

“Chicago is gay, Becs.”

“He’s what?!”

She couldn’t pinpoint one exact reason as to why she was grinning like an idiot in the dark on the beach with Chloe, but that was probably one of them.

“Yeah. So. We just kinda went out to dinner to talk about it and bond over it and life and all that stuff.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”

“Might have something to do with the fact that you wouldn’t even look at me.”

“Oh. Ha. Yeah.”

“So.”

“So.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since the worlds.”

“Beca! That was senior year!” she slapped her shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

“You kept this from me for five years?”

“Do you blame me?”

“Yes!”

“Chloe I literally thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“You’re oblivious, Mitchell. I literally told you I wanted to experiment and asked if you wanted a backrub. Not to mention the fact that every trip we went on I insisted that we share the room with one bed.”

“You perve. And yes, oblivious, maybe.” Beca stood up straighter and shook out her shoulders, “but still badass.”

Chloe slowly started getting closer to Beca while reaching for her hips, staring at her lips. Beca was losing her mind. What the hell was happening? 

“Oh yeah. Total badass.”

“To be fair, you kept it from me too.”

“I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“You could never.”

“Yeah? So you just like to run seven miles down a foreign beach for funsies?”

“You know my name, not my story.” Their bodies were now pressed up against each other, Beca didn’t know what to do with her hands and her eyes kept dodging Chloe’s.

“So if I kissed you right now, you’re not gonna go ape shit, right?”

“I think if you kissed me I would most definitely go ape shit.”

“But no cardio involved this time, okay?” Chloe leaned in as Beca’s eyes slowly started to close in sync with her own.

“No cardio.” Beca whispered just as Chloe closed the gap between them.

Braveten: A Witty and Spontaneous Writer

AO3 Profile

Tumblr

I bet everybody in the Yuri on Ice fandom already knows braveten. She’s only seventeen, but three of her works are already part of the top twenty Yuri on Ice fanfics that have garnered the most number of kudos in AO3. She is the writer who brought us All the World’s a Stage, Centripetal Force, The Fundamentals of Caring, and eight other entertaining stories. She has made us smile, laugh, cry, and has moved our hearts in a way that one can never forget.

Braveten couldn’t believe how surreal it is that many people enjoy her stories. She has always written for herself and for fun, so seeing that many people love her works is mindblowing. “And crazy exciting!!!” she adds.  “And also a little bit nerve-wracking, if I’m being honest. This show means a lot to me so knowing that I’ve had some sort of an impact on the fandom makes me really happy and I am super grateful!”

(We are grateful to you too, braveten.) However, aside from the stories she had written and her distinctly witty writing style, what else do we know about her? For the fans of braveten (and for those who don’t know her but are now interested), I have interviewed her and written this feature article for you.

Know more about the mastermind behind some of the fandom’s most beloved fics under the cut.

Keep reading

IN AMIDST OF A WAR [GEORGE WEASLEY]

summary: they were best friends, like siblings as they often tell the others, but just as the battle of hogwarts is taking place, one of them decides that it’s the best time to confess certain feelings — not exactly the right moment when you may or may not face death while protecting the castle.

a/n: fRED DOESN’T DIE HERE BECAUSE I SAID SO OKAY. oh and this is a bit cliche but meh, i’m a sucker for cliche and fluffy stories lol (and my writing here isn’t the best, i’m sorry 😂)

also this has been sitting on my drafts for a long time and i finally decided to finish it since classes are suspended from where i’m from ahaha.

Masterlist

Keep reading

A threatening kiss

You and Harry are arguing after pictures of him making out with a girl are published online. He claims he’s innocent, but fed up and hurt you make him sleep at a hotel for the night. 

Warning: Hints on mature content

This is a One Shot I have had saved in my drafts for a very long time now and since I haven’t posted in a while, I tried to go over it one more time and then publish it. Please pardon any mistakes, I finished it in one sitting. Thank you for reading and I hope you like it!

Gif is not mine, as I have never gotten this close to the beautiful human that is Harry Styles. 

His hair was a mess after having his ringed fingers furiously pulling on the newly short locks. Harry’s eyes were desperate and reflected his distraught emotions. After having argued for over two hours now, he felt like all hope I might believe his words was lost. He didn’t find it in him to blame me though, there was enough evidence to be held against him. I didn’t look much better myself as I had adapted Harry’s habit of stressed hair pulling. Additional to that came the redness on my cheeks and the stickiness the tears had left on them. My mind and heart raced as I stared at the man standing in front of me. He looked so strange to me now. 

I’d always expected something like this to happen, he was the famous Harry Styles after all. People loved him, wanted to be like or with him and as his girlfriend, I was aware that at some point, I’d be pulled into the mess as well. Some day, someone would try to jeopardize our relationship. However, I had always thought that should it happen, it wouldn’t be real. Maybe a PR stunt his management forced onto him without him knowing or something.
I had never believed that he would come home and tell me that the pictures of him pressed against and kissing a girl, who clearly wasn’t me, were real. The pink lips I was so familiar with had just been tasted by someone else and that was something I could not accept.

“Why can’t you just listen to me?” Harry cried, his voice breaking after being raised for too long.

“Because this is exactly what everyone warned me about when I first started going out with you!”

Sitting down on the couch I buried my face in my hands as I allowed more tears to fall. My entire body jerked as sobs wrecked through me and I shook my head in disbelief.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asked, disappointment evident in his voice.

“It’s what you always do, right? You’re going out with one girl and once you’re sick of her you pick the next in line. I always figured that was a PR thing and that it wouldn’t happen once you were in a serious relationship, but I guess I was wrong.”

“Seriously, Y/N? You can’t just hold what I did before I was with you against me now, that would make you no better than all those damn magazines talking bullshit about me. And besides, that’s not what happened at all! This girl just came on to me!

"Yeah? Well maybe none of this would’ve happened if you’d told your precious fans about us! Maybe you wouldn’t have to fight girls off if they knew that you’re already with someone!”

I knew I was being unfair as we had actually gotten to an agreement on that topic already, but I continued anyway. “But you like that don’t you? That’s why you’re keeping me as your dirty, little secret at home! You love how every girl would throw herself at your feet and kiss them should you ask!”

He shook his head. Harry’s breathing was hectic and he looked as exhausted as I felt. His usually intimidating appearance was shadowed by the glossiness of his green eyes and the hollowness of his cheeks. I felt sick. I knew what my words did to him, but to finally have voiced my darkest fears felt like a weigh being lifted off my chest.

“Look, Harry, I think we’ve argued enough for tonight. I’m done.”

He stared at me silently before nodding. “Alright. We should just talk about it tomorrow.”

“No,” I breathed, repetitively clenching and unclenching my fists. “I’m done with this mess. I want- I need a break.”

Harry’s eyes followed my movements as I got up and brushed past him on my way to the kitchen. When my shoulder brushed against his arm I felt as if the contact burned my skin. The meal I had prepared before the yelling had begun was now a mess and littered all over. The pieces of his plate lay still shattered on the floor while my food rested untouched and I quickly decided that I would only clean the worst of it tonight and leave the rest for tomorrow.

“What are you saying? You- You’re breaking up with me?” Harry’s voice sounded small from behind me and my heart broke at the noise.

It was the complete opposite from how he had spoken to me only minutes ago, all quiet and uncertain. I sighed and leaned against the sink.
I knew Harry loved me and god knows I loved him more than anything else, but I couldn’t deny the pain I felt when I first saw the pictures. The disappointment cursing through my veins when he confirmed that they were real. The taste of vomit made its way up my throat by the mere thought of his lips pressed to hers. His hands touched the skin of her waist, the tight crop-top exposing more than I ever wore out of the house, as her own hands fisted in his hair. And no matter how much he swore his faithfulness and devotion to me, he didn’t feel like mine anymore.

“I’ll stay at a hotel for the night.”

Within three strides he reached me and turned me to face him with gentle touches to my cheeks. His green eyes stared intensely into mine, making my knees go weak. I pressed back hard against the cold stone, uncomfortable by his sudden closeness.

“You want away from me that desperately?”

I carefully pried his hands from my face. “Yes. I’m sorry, Harry, but I want some time away from you.”

Tears shot to his eyes, drowning their green in pain. A sob left his mouth and I had to look away. Watching Harry cry hurt more than anything else had tonight. It felt wrong, seeing a person who was usually so confident and had happiness shining from his eyes looking at me with such utter sadness.

“Y/N,” Harry whispered, “Please. I- I know I fucked up badly. But I swear to you I didn’t cheat. I never would. Do you really believe I would ruin us for someone else?” he shook his head forcefully. “You’re the most important person in my life. Please, I beg of you-”

He moved to touch me again but I quickly raised both hands and pushed him away hard, a gesture that wouldn’t have done much given his height and strength, but it was Harry, and Harry reacted to my discomfort. He pulled away instantly and took a few strides back.

“Y/N,” he murmured, defeated. “will you not hear me out? Please.”

“I have and I can’t any longer, Harry,” I exhaled desperately. My hands rubbed the skin beneath my eyes to wipe away any wetness left on the skin. “Even looking at you doesn’t feel the same anymore. You kissed her! I can’t even say it without feeling like I’ll have to vomit! This is too much for me, can’t you see that?”

Harry looked as if I had hit him right across his face. His cheeks were red and his mouth open in shock. He tried to reach me again but seemed to change his mind and he let his hands drop to his sides.

“From the day we met, I have done nothing but love you! I’ve put you first, I sacrificed so much and this is what I get? How is that fair? Tell me ‘cause I’m stumped!”

“Listen to me,” he spoke in an urgent tone. His pleading came unexpected as I had gotten used to him screaming at me with nothing but anger in his voice.

“I’ll leave. Okay? I promise not to come back until you ask me to. I’ll give you time,” his voice cracked and he coughed, “away from me. But please, stay here. I need to know you’re safe.”

His eyes searched my face and widened when I nodded. Sleeping at a hotel somewhere in London wasn’t something I was exactly eager to do and since the entire argument was all his fault in my eyes, it may as well be him who suffers the consequences. Though the whole situation did cause me suffering as well.

“Fine,” I agreed quietly.

“I’ll get a few things and then I’ll be gone.”

He looked like he had hoped I’d say something along the line of a request to make him stay, but I only nodded again and watched as he slowly left the kitchen. I didn’t move, even when I heard him rummaging in our drawers and the zipper of a bag being pulled. The pit of my stomach felt like a vacuum, an empty space that pushed all my organs out its way to fill my body with uneasiness. Soon Harry was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, fully dressed and with his bag over his shoulder.

“I’ll… ehm… I’ll go now. You’ll be alright?”

“I think so,” I croaked.

We stared at each other for a minute. His lips partnered as he bit back so much he had to say, before deciding against it.

“Can I ask one thing from you before I go?”

I hesitated but nodded. Harry sighed and clenched and unclenched his hands.

“Kiss me? I don’t want to leave without one more kiss from you.”

The desperation in his voice caught my attention and kept me from shouting at him for even asking. I understood that he didn’t ask out of lust for me or so that he could prove a point. His eyes pleaded me to let him have one reminder as he feared I would decide to end our relationship while he was absent.

“Just one,” I murmured and forced myself not to step back as he approached me.

Harry carefully touched my cheek and whimpered upon feeling how sore my skin was. I reached my own arms up as he gently nudged my nose with his before leaning in further until his warm mouth met mine. I whined in surprise as he didn’t go slow like he usually did, but pushed his tongue against my lips in order to get me to open them the second they pressed against his. Harry cradled my face in both hands to keep me from moving away as he guided the kiss. Just as I felt myself loosing to him he pulled away.
His eyes stared at me as if he tried to speak through them, but before I could say anything he turned and exited the room.
I jumped when I heard the door slam shut forcefully. My heart ached at the faint sound of his car pulling up on the street as he drove away, leaving me alone in our big and empty home. It took less than ten minutes of him gone before the events of the night came crushing down on me, causing hysterical cries to leave my mouth as I crouched down on the floor. I didn’t bother quieting my sobs and allowed myself to be absorbed in my hurt. At first it surprised me that none of our neighbors came to check up on me, but it soon occurred to me that they had most likely heard Harry and I argue and seen him drive away. A sudden fear crept through me and I jumped to my feet. As it was very late it had got dark outside a long time ago. I knew how crazy the Londoner streets around our house got by this hour and I instantly reached for my phone. How could I have made him drive? My heart ached at the thought of something happening to him; I wouldn’t be able to bare it. Before my fingers could dial the familiar phone number, I stopped. I was acting foolish and simply tried to invent a reason for me to call him back. His presence was already missed dearly.
I made my way up to our bathroom, undressed and stepped into the shower. Hot water touching my skin always washed away any tension, today however, it did little to calm me. At least it killed time. Once dressed I grabbed a blanked and curled up on the couch, but it felt much too big without a second body there. I uncomfortably stretched my limps and after flipping through various channels I switched the TV off. I rested one of my hands against my forehead and momentarily closed my eyes.

Think Y/N. Think. What are the facts?

Harry had kissed a girl that wasn’t me. He had betrayed me in the most hurtful way and had gone against the one promise he’d made me he swore was as sacred to him as it was to me. He cheated. Another cry left my lips and I cursed my eyes for letting more tears fall as an image of him having sex with her shot through my head. My stomach turned. My Harry laying bare on a bed for someone who wasn’t me? I had always hated to as much as imagine him with women before we started dating, but to think of him sleeping with someone else while he had me was something entirely else. Unimaginable almost.

I decided he couldn’t have. Though I had believed him kissing someone else was impossible, too, sex was an entirely different department and I knew he would never cross that line. After all, he did tell me about it. He came home and immediately owned up to everything.
It had hurt just as much as I imagined hearing it through the media would have, but his honesty still meant a lot to me.

His reaction could have been a better one, though. The second I had began questioning him for details about how exactly the girl had gotten to be in a position this close to him, he raised his voice. I understood his anger at my doubts in him, but how could he possibly blame me? There were pictures for god’s sake! And they didn’t exactly show him particularly disgusted to be making out with a fan.
But what if his loud reaction had been his desperation shining through as he tried to show me how scared he was of losing us?

“Oh, Harry,” I whispered. “What are you doing to me.”

Maybe what I had said earlier was true. This happened because no one knew he had a girlfriend. Girls wouldn’t push themselves at him anymore once they knew, right? Okay, some might, but I knew there were fans who respected the girlfriends. And maybe what he had said was true, too. That he had always been faithful to me and didn’t deserve to be doubted by me. If only I could have collected my emotions and let him explain himself better.
I loved him so much. Too much maybe.
One glance to the clock told me that Harry had now been gone for over three hours already. The ache in my chest increased and I missed my boyfriend’s presence more and more by the second. I unlocked my phone and opened his chat where my fingers quickly flew over the keys.

Come home?

His answer came so quickly it made me smile in relief and picture him sitting beside his phone all night, awaiting a message from me.

You sure?

My phone buzzed again before I could reply.

Never mind. Don’t tell me. I’m on my way.

And again.

I’ll be there in 30. I love you. xx

Warmth spread through my body and I smiled. I patted the pillow I rested my head on and sighed happily, knowing that he’d be back soon. For the first time this evening, I felt at ease.

….

“Y/N?”

I felt a hand on my shoulder and then one pressed against my hips. My head felt dizzy and my eyes too heavy to fully open as I was lifted up and scooped into Harry’s arms.

“Why were you sleeping down here, baby? Did you forget our incredibly comfortable bed upstairs?” Harry softly chuckled.

“Mhmm,” I hummed, nuzzling his neck, finding comfort in his warmth. My heart swelled and I felt like I could finally breathe again as my chest pressed against his when he pulled me against himself tightly.

“I can’t believe you fought me to leave you the bed and sleep somewhere else, only for you to take the couch. Makes no sense, love, does it?”

Harry smiled when the only answer he received from me was a whine. He carried me upstairs and gently placed me on our soft mattress. Careful fingers unzipped the thin material I wore over my shirt before he slid off my sweats, leaving me in just the shirt and a pair of knickers. All of a sudden his presence was gone again.

“Harry?” I called out for him as I propped myself up on my elbows.

“I’m gonna sleep in the guest room, my angel” his quiet voice hummed from somewhere in the room.

“Why?” I couldn’t hide the disappointment in my voice. I had expected us to be fine now and him to cuddle with me. My mind was too tired to think about any more reasons to argue with him. I longed for this to become one of the quiet and comfortable nights we always had.

“You said you needed space, my love. Wanted away from me, remember?”

I could particularly hear his pout in his voice before a chuckle rumbled through the room when I vigorously shook my head. My shoulders relaxed as I noticed how calm he seemed.

“I changed my mind,” I whined and sat up, reaching both arms out into the direction I believed him standing since the darkness prevented me from actually seeing him. “Come here. Need you to make me warm again.”

Harry didn’t make any noise. I hated not seeing him and sighed as my eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. He stood near the door, an expression of hesitation on his face. There was a small smile playing on his lips, however, and I could see the relief in his eyes upon my request of him staying with me.
He didn’t move fast, as if he was expecting me to change my ming any second, but my breath hitched when I felt the bed dip under the weight of another body. Harry crawled onto his side of the bed, pulling the covers higher over the both of us. He sprawled out beside me and his eyes locked with mine.

“Hi,” he murmured quietly.

I reached out my hand and he entwined our fingers. I smiled when he leaned forward and pressed his lips to my knuckles. A giggle escaped his lips when I pulled at his hand, motioning him to move closer to me. Following my silent request he pushed himself up and laid his body down closer to mine, close enough for me to feel the warmth radiating off of him.

“Hey,” I breathed.

We stared at each other. His green eyes were clear and lightly swollen, telling me that he had cried at least as much as I did.

“I’m so sorry,” he promised in a low whisper.

I shook my head to silence him.

“Harry,” I breathed, brushing his hair from his forehead. “You know you mean the world to me. I want nothing less than to lose you, you must know that.”

“I don’t want to lose you either, Y/N,” Harry spoke and leaned forward to bury his nose against my shoulder and in my hair.

“You’ve proven me often enough that I can trust you,” I continued and reached up one hand so that I could caress his neck.
“Tell me your side of the story,” I suggested, “I’ll listen properly this time and will believe you, whatever it is you tell me.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed and tugged on my hand, followed by giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I was at Sainsbury’s to get your tea like you asked me to, when all of a sudden this girl showed up and she just grabbed my face and began kissing me. She fisted my hair and shirt so I couldn’t get her off of me without hurting her, which I obviously didn’t want to do either. I really had to push her several times before she lessened her grip, but of course that wasn’t until some damn photographer’s took pictures of it. I’m so sorry,” he choked on the last word, “Y/N I never meant for you to get hurt like this. I know what it looks like. But I swear to you, the kiss wasn’t mutual. I didn’t kiss back and I haven’t seen the girl since, nor would I ever want to! I’m so sorry. Please believe me.”

A sob left his lips and I shuddered as wet tears dripped onto my neck.

“Sh, Harry, it’s okay,” I tried to reassure him.

“No it’s not, I mean look at you. You’re hurt and you’ve been crying. And I yelled at you when you aren’t the one who made the mistake. I’m such an asshole. ”

“That’s not true, Harry. You’re nothing like an asshole. At all.”

Harry sniffled and pulled back so he could look at me. The back of my hands moved up to brush over his temples before taking hold of his face.

“I love you so much,” I told him. “You didn’t to anything wrong. I should have believed you in the first place instead of doubting you. You’ve always been faithful to me, a picture shouldn’t have been able to ruin all that.”

I gently stroke over his eyelid with the tip of my finger. The skin felt sore and I sighed sadly.
“I’m sorry I caused you so much pain.”

His hands held my waist and pulled me against him. Harry shuffled further down and pressed his head against my shoulder. I rested my chin on his head and kissed his hair. I felt him breath heavily as if he wanted to say something and couldn’t find the words. Finally all he said was:

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, Harry” I whispered.

Silence settled upon us and I felt like there was nothing more we could say, but we didn’t fall asleep full. Harry didn’t move until the very early morning. It was only then that he allowed me to move my arms from around his shoulders to around his waist as he crawled up to lay closer by the headboard.

“M'gonna tell the world about us tomorrow,” he murmured, “Want everyone to know that m'taken.”

I sighed and nodded. “Please do.”

We stayed cuddled like that for several more hours before he rolled over me. His mouth found mine in a slow kiss and his hands reached down to pull at the hem of my knickers. We didn’t bother taking off my shirt or completely pushing down his boxers, only freeing what was needed.
I kissed him tenderly and blindly reached behind him to pull the covers over both of our heads.

Thank you so much for reading! Feedback is always welcome and so are requests, though I’m quite busy at the moment and it will take me some time to finish anything I start new right now. 

The rest of what I wrote you can find here: 

http://harryimaginedstories.tumblr.com/post/144920695218/masterlist


A Very Merry Christmas Party

This has been sitting in my drafts for - no exaggeration - three effing years. Honestly what. Am I doing. 

Anyway it’s about time it saw the light of your dashboards, so here, have this unfinished Christmas themed Percabeth AU where they both work at Disney world.



Piper idly flipped her blue ID between her fingers as they walked through the tunnels under Magic Kingdom. “Do you think they’ll give us free cookies? They’ve got truckloads of them, right? Literal truckloads. Surely they can spare some for Cast Members.”

Annabeth shrugged. “I’d love to say yes, but it depends on who’s the Captain.”

“Chiron will give us cookies.”

“Chiron will definitely give us cookies.” Annabeth tried to remember if her favourite Captain had already told her where he’d been scheduled for this Christmas party. She couldn’t recall them discussing it, but she hoped that he’d be at the dance party with her and Piper.

“Reyna might,” Piper said as they joined the line of people checking in at base, which snaked around the corner and down the tunnel. 

Keep reading

Escape: the Bree years

Dedicating this chapter to @thescarlettpeacock who, with her photos and friendship, helped define this storyline.  She’s a talented writer, and a joy to talk to.  Thank you, Scarlett!)


She walked into the National Museum of Scotland with a three month old Bree strapped in her baby carrier.  It was a cold morning in March, and Claire was out for her daily walk.  

The flat felt like a prison lately.

Every day she walked a different route trying to clear her head.  She loved being a mother, but she missed being a doctor.  Somehow that felt traitorous.  The war inside her head was ongoing.  She found that being outside helped.  It also helped to get her body stronger.

Now if only I could find a way to get my mind stronger.  Claire pushed away that dark thought.

Some days she walked to Edinburgh Castle.  The first time she stood there she cried.  Being at the top of the city gave a visual to her feelings.  The loneliness and isolation, the sheer feeling of being overwhelmed was all there in front of her.  The vastness of the city at her feet, with its twists and turns, its unknowns and dark corners.  The view mirrored her mind, and that feeling of being so alone, and responsible for a child.  She had no idea what it meant to be a good mum. She hadn’t a clue if she was doing everything well, or right.  The city spread out like a maze, a clear metaphor for parenting.  Should she make this choice, or another?  Lead Bree this way, or that?  How would she know what was right for her daughter?    

The conflict was never-ending.

Today she sat in the Museum’s Grand Gallery, the glass ceiling above her trying its best to brighten the Atrium from the dull grey light.  She rested her head against the wall and looked up.  Scotland’s weather mirrored her mood. Everything in her life seemed grey.  Food seemed bland.  Her desires were banked.  Everything was such an effort.  So, she tried to combat her listlessness with exercise.  

Claire timed her walks with Bree’s schedule and ended up places where she could discreetly nurse her.  A bench in the corner of the gallery quickly became one of her favourite places.  Brianna  was growing so fast, all rolls, double chins, and bright blue eyes.  This was the only source of Claire’s joy, her daily delight.  Most days it felt like Bree was her only reason for getting up in the morning.  

That’s what scared her.   

Claire tried not to cry with gratitude every time she looked at the baby.  Brianna was alive, and strong, and had the sweetest smile.  

Plus, she adored her Daddy.

Claire wished she felt the same.  

She also wasn’t prepared for the sheer drudgery of early motherhood.  The clutter, laundry, nappie changes, and feedings.  My God, the feedings!  Claire had never sat down so much in her life.  It drove her crazy to have to sit while looking around at everything she had to do.  Trying to keep everything clean, and picked up was becoming a worry.  Everywhere she looked she saw a task, be it folding clothes, cleaning, or putting things away.  Just the thought of Bree finding something to put in her mouth and choke had Claire scrubbing floors at 5:00 in the morning, and vacuuming around the clock.  

Jamie thought she was being ridiculous.  While he never said so, in many ways he wasn’t as careful as she’d asked him to be.  In her corner, discretely draped by a baby blanket she thought of Jamie. He’d gone back to work eventually, and when he got home all he wanted to do was spend time with Bree.  

The first time he dangled his keys in front of her and the baby tried to put them in her mouth, Claire lost it.  She felt bad afterwards for what she’d said to him, but it made her mad that he seemed to have no common sense on the matter. She was a doctor for God’s sake.  She had explained the dangers.  

Claire peeked under the blanket to check on Bree.  The little monkey let go, and looked up at Claire with a sweet, milky smile.  Claire had to laugh.  She really was a delight.  Her only real peace came when they were together.  Mother and daughter.  

Claire shoved down the thoughts that came to the forefront of her mind so often these days.  Thoughts of how it would be so much simpler if it were just her and Bree.


“Sunday for dinner, then?”  Jenny said, poking her head into Jamie’s office for a quick word.

“I’ll let ye know,” Jamie said, looking up briefly.  He gave his sister a strained smile.  

“Jamie,” Jenny stopped, and filled the doorway.  “What’s wrong, brother?”

Jenny crossed her arms over her chest.  He’s hiding something.

“Nothing.  Deadlines.”

Maybe.  That could be it.  “Can I see what ye have so far?”

Jamie straightened from his drafting table, and blew out a long breath.  Finally he nodded, and waggled his fingers to wave her in.  He held up his MacBook to show her what he had completed.  Jenny was impressed.  She smiled as she held it up.  

“Jamie, these are beautiful!”  

“Aye. They’ll do.”  Fraser Distillery was coming out with a new Blended Scotch Whisky, and Jamie was designing everything from the shape of the bottle, to the label and packaging.  

“Here,” he said, and took the MacBook back.  He opened up a new file, and handed it back to Jenny.  Her face softened at the drawings.  Bree asleep.  A sketch of her tiny shell of an ear.  Her little hand curled up on a blanket.  

If there was one thing she knew about her brother it was that he drew in times of great stress.  The sheer number of drawings had her concerned.  She handed Jamie back the computer.  He looked sheepish and shy, but proud at the same time.  “Are ye happy, brother?”

Jamie nodded, then shrugged.  He wouldn’t meet her eyes.  “It’s hard, Jenny.”

“Oh, aye. The hardest thing ye’ll ever do!” She set her hand on his arm.  “But worth it, I promise.”

Jamie said nothing.

“How’s Claire?”

Jamie opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.  He scratched the back of his head, and leaned his elbows on the table.

“Testy.  Sharp-tongued.  Withdrawn sometimes.  And she cleans non-stop.”  His voice held a mixture of confusion, and frustration, tinged with fear.  “Jenny-” he stopped.

She waited patiently for him to continue.  

“Jenny, I dinna ken what’s going on.  I’ve been changing nappies since wee Jamie was born.  One minute she’s fine with how I do it, the next time I’ve done it all wrong.  One minute I’m a savior for getting food from the market, the next I’ve put it away wrong.  How can a man put food away incorrectly?”  He swiveled in his chair and faced his sister, blue eyes stormy.  “It’s daft.  The mood swings are doing my head in!”

Memories flooded through Jenny.  Ah, piuthar mo chridhe.  Her heart broke a little for Claire.  She knew from experience that Jamie couldn’t deal with this.  In fact, if he tried he would only make it worse.

She could help, however.  She could lift both their burdens.  

Despite her mind now planning and working overtime, Jenny turned and walked toward the office door as nonchalantly as possible.  “Aye.  ‘Tis normal.  Tell her I said hello, kiss the bairn for me, and let me know about Sunday, aye?”

Jamie acknowledged her request with a shouted “Aye!” but Jenny was already through the door, and into the hallway.

She returned to her office, shut the door, and picked up the phone.  

It was answered on the third ring.

“Claire!  Glad I caught ye.  Listen, are ye busy this week?  Let’s meet for lunch.”

Photo credit: @thescarlettpeacock 

Friends Tommy Shelby x Reader Request

Hey everyone, If anyones listening… I really loved this request. I keep on saying I’ll have it done by Sunday and then I finish it earlier!  I have a couple more request I’ll finish up hopefully over Thanksgiving break! Please request things!!!

Request: Would you be able to do a Tommy Shelby x reader best friends one like they always work together, fight together, plan together. For the sake of Tommy she attempts to get on with Grace, but as soon as Tommy is away Grace becomes spiteful. Maybe Tommy walks in and sees this.

Warning: A bit of swearing Also I have nothing against Grace at all. She’s lovely!

“Are you out of your mind, Tommy?!” You whisper yelled. You and Tommy were standing in the corner of the church Polly had brought you to. For some reason, on occasion Polly made the two of you come and sit. You both thought it was Polly’s way of saying you both were devils and needed help, but it never seemed to work. Tommy had just begrudgingly told you of the case of guns that his men accidentally found. 

“Why haven’t you bloody dumped them, Tom?!” You scolded. Tommy sighed and not wanting to face the wrath that was prominent on your face he looked up.
You scoffed noticing his undesired want for eye contact, “ God won’t help you now.”
“Charlie won’t move them until the full moons passed, that’s in three days. Then we’ll chuck them, Okay?” Tommy responded after a full minute of ignoring your furious stare.
“You do realize there’s an inspector coming to Birmingham right now to weed all the bad apples out don’t you? ” Tommy started to speak, but you continued over him. “And yes it may be a bloody coincidence but its a bloody scary coincidence. And Tom,” Tommy sighed and turned his head even farther away from you trying to ignore your words but you weren’t going to have that. So, you reached out and took his chin in your hand and turned it to face you.
“If that officer finds you with the case of guns, you can forget about the bloody Peaky Blinders coming up in the world, do understand that?”
You let go of his chin and sighed. You looked away from Tommys piercing cool breezy blue eyes and instead examined the people sitting in the church. You felt Tommy turn your chin so you were facing him just like you had done.
“Look (y/n), It’ll be alright. I can take care of myself, It’s you who I’m worried about.”
You narrowed your eyes about to make a snarky comeback when Polly brushed past both of you saying, “Oh, come on both of you, enough with the lovebirds, Gods watching for god sake.”
Tommy immediately let go of your chin and quickly followed Polly out of the church door. Leaving you standing there with a hint of red on your cheeks. You and Tommy grew up together in Birmingham. While all the other children were afraid of the Shelbys’ because of there ties to gypsies you found it fascinating. Your parents had scolded you numerous times for running off to the caravans and having your fortune told.  And after the first couple times the Shelbys saw you around they welcomed you into the family with open arms.
You were a girlfriend to Ada, a helper to Polly, a laugh for John and Arthur and for Tommy you were a partner.
You both had been adventurous teenagers, constantly running about, sneaking out at night, and plotting together.
But soon, as all things must end your safe haven in Birmingham did as well. You both had gone off to the war. Tommy was drafted as was your father. You soon realized you were doing nothing good just worrying in Birmingham so you volunteered as a nurse and away you went. The things you saw out on the battlefield were horrifying. Dragging half-dead men across the field trying to get them to safety.  Bowing your head in shame and sadness after another soldier didn’t make it through the night. Gritting your teeth as you heard the screams of pain from the soldiers you were stitching up.
You and Tommy both returned to Birmingham damaged physically and mentally but relived the other made it. You both acknowledged that the other would never be the same but for some reason, neither of you minded. As soon as you heard of Tommy’s plan to start a business you started to help immediately.
You quickly snapped out of your daydream to quickly follow Tommy and Polly out the door. As you left the church you were met with a rather aggressive blast of wind causing you to shiver.  Polly was grumbling something that sounded along the lines of, “I brought you both here to pray, bloody pray. And what do you do? Get into a bloody spat!”
You and Tommy chuckled as you heard Polly mumbling to herself.
“It not our fault, Pol. We never asked for God.” Tommy said with a smirk on his face. You giggled at the sight of Polly’s frustrated face.
“I can’t deal with you two pests. I’m going to the market to get something for dinner.” And with a shake of her head, she left the two of you standing there on the front steps of the church.
Tommy turned to you with a smile and a cigarette hanging from his lips. He offered you his arm and you gladly took it. And the two of you walked together in comfortable silence.
Weeks went by and the inspector was getting more and more bothersome. Tommy had done his best at challenging him but he had other things to deal with, like Kimber.
The two of you were sitting in the betting shops office deep in thought.
“You best be careful Tom.” You warned quietly. He nodded solemnly.
“Kimbers a slimy man. You may be working for him today, but tomorrow you may be his new enemy.” You continued on. Tommy and you had been plotting since this afternoon on how to make sure Kimber doesn’t take advantage of the Peaky Blinders.
You stood up from your sit grabbed the cigarette dangling from Tommy’s lips and took a long drag. He looked up at you with his dolphin blue eyes, that now had a hint of fondness swimming in them.
“Hows Grace?” You asked.
Tommy immediately looked away from you.
“She’s uh, she’s doing alright. ” He looked up at you from his seat. “How are you doing?”
“Are you both happy?” You said exhaling a cloud of smoke.
“I am. We are. ” He replied simply.
You gave him a small smile. “Then I’m happy.” You whispered. You ignored the cracking of your heart at his words.  Over the entirety of your life with Tommy, you had grown quite fond of the man.  You might go as far as saying you love him. There was something about him. He radiated power and violence but deep down you knew he would never hurt a thing if he had a choice.  
“My God! When did it get so cold?” You yelled. Tommy chuckled at your outburst. You both had called it quits when the clock showed 1 A.M.
“I’ll walk you home.” Tommy offered while placing an arm around your shoulders. You both walked silently through the ghostly Birmingham streets. You both heard the faint drunken yells of men happily celebrating another day.
You looked to your left and saw a mesmerizing view of Birmingham’s docks and factories. You stopped walking and just stared at the scene before you. The fire was blazing every couple minutes. Men yelling for more coal. The wisps of smoke waltzing in the air made you smile into the night. The water looked like glass reflecting the moon perfectly.
Tommy offered you a cigarette which you gratefully took. The two of you stood there smoking and watching. Unbeknownst to you, Tommy was watching you.
The way your silhouette sparkled in the moonlight was captivating. The way the smoke dripped from your mouth just added to your allure. An allure Tommy was having a hard time resisting.
You sighed. “Beautiful isn’t it?”
Tommy pulled his eyes away from you to rest them on the bustling factories.
“I don’t know, I’ve seen a lot prettier.”
You chuckled looking down. “You would say that. But look its Birmingham’s heart. Look at the way the furnaces blaze every couple minutes. It’s her heart beating. Fighting to stay alive.”  
You both fell silent watching until you both grew too tired to stand upright and trundled on home.
The next morning you made your way to the Garrison hoping to see Ada there so you could chat a bit. You took a seat at the bar to find Grace on duty as the bartender.
“Morning Grace, you look lovely.” You said with a cheerful smile.
She looked at you like a marble statue, “What can I get you?”
You were taken aback by her cold shoulder but you recovered quickly from her rather brisk response, “I’m fine right now, thanks. I’m just waiting to meet Ada.”
Grace gave you a stiff nod and continued to serve other customers.
You didn’t hate Grace but you didn’t love her either. You constantly tried to spark a conversation or even a short chat with her but she would never cooperate. Sometimes she would have a snide remark about your clothing or she would adamantly disagree with you on something.  You didn’t know why she was so rude. You had no idea where you went wrong. But for the sake of a Tommy, you tried to get on.
“She hates me, Ada! And I don’t know what to do about it!” You vented.
“Why don’t you do all of us a favor and remove the rod that’s stuck up her a-” You coughed loudly as to alert Ada that you weren’t the only ones present at the market.
“I can’t do that. Tommy and Grace are together. If I start something with her That would most likely stop me and Tommy’s friendship” You explained.
“Look (y/n), Grace doesn’t like anyone its part of her charming personality. She’ll get off her high horse soon.” Ada responded while examining a melon. “Does this melon look a bit brown to you?”
The Garrison was closing down the crowds of drunken men had stumbled home leaving the Shelbys, you, and Grace. John was the first  to go, he slurred something that resembled,
“Hav tu go put em kids ta bedsh.”
Then Arthur stumbled on home and soon Polly and Ada followed suit leaving just you, Grace and Tommy.
Not wanting to be a third wheel you began to head out.
“Night Tom, Grace.” You said with a smile as you pulled on your coat.  
Tommy stood up, “I’ll walk you home. It’s late.”
You shook your head. “Really, its fine you two have fun.” Tommy looked a bit worried leaving you alone to walk home.
“No, I think I should, a lot of drunkards out tonight. Let me get my coat.” You continued your protests until he left the room to fetch his jacket, leaving you alone with Grace.
“I’m really sorry. I’ll leave now so you guys can continue your evening.” You offered with a smile.
“I can see right through you.” Were the first couple words Grace said to you.
“Pardon?” You said in confusion.
“I know you’re trying to steal him from me. But guess what?” Grace stood up from her chair and crossed the room towards you. You took a step back afraid of what she was going to do.
“Tommy would never like someone like you. Look at your clothes, your hair, your smile, your nothing but a damaged nurse from the war with no parents.”
Silenced pierced the room like a dagger. Your mouth hung open in shock. But soon the shock transformed into sadness. Tears filled your eyes and soon they overflowed and they trickled down your cheeks.
“Why? I don’t understand? Why are you so mean?” You struggled to form any kind of sentence. You heard Tommy re-enter the room only to stop when he saw the situation.
“(y/n)?” Was the only word you heard from him before you turned and hurried out of the Garrison and through the ashy streets.
You soon saw your familiar street name, thank god you were almost home! You ran up to your door and fumbled with your keys for a few seconds. Your hands were shaking from the adrenaline of running and the raw emotion coursing through your veins.
You finally opened your door and slammed it shut. You slid down until you were sitting on the ground and your back was leaning against the door. Only then did you truly let the emotion inside of you free.
You didn’t know how long you were crying but eventually, you had no tears left in you. And that left you with nothing else but the words Grace had said to you.
She was right. You were just a damaged nurse from the war with no parents. Why would Tommy want someone so damaged? Who were you to even like someone like Tommy? Someone so beautiful and smart. You would never deserve a man like him. You were a fool to even consider it.
You jumped at the sound of banging coming from the door behind you. Slowly you stood up and unlocked the door but not the chain only allowing a few inches to look through. You weren’t entirely surprised to find Thomas Shelby on your doorstep.
He looked angry, disheveled, and tired, but mostly angry.
You sighed. “I’m really tired right now Tommy, can we talk in the morning?” You asked you voice a bit horse form all the crying.
“No, We are going to talk about what the fuck happened back there.” He demanded with a voice that was as sharp as a broken piece of glass.
“Nothing happened back there Tommy.” You began to close the door when his hand slapped against it preventing you from moving it.
His anger transformed into hope and he looked at you pleadingly, “Please, lets talk, I want to talk.”
You internally debated for a couple of seconds but soon you were unlatching the chain and standing aside to let him in.  You thought he would go through to the drawing room but when you turned around he was right in front of you.
“How long?” He demanded quietly.
You looked everywhere but him, “What do you mean?” It was a feebel attempt at buying yourself some time and it didn’t work.
“How fucking long has she been insulting you!?” He yelled. Making you jump a bit. You had seen Tommy yell many times but you were never in front of him only beside him. And you couldn’t believe how scary he was.
He seemed to realize he shocked you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just, I’m angry. How long?”
“Over a couple months now.” You said looking at the floor.
“What has she said to you?” He took a step closer to you.
“Nothing that bad until tonight. She has never really liked me, always challenging me, sometimes insulting my outfit. But tonight…” You trailed off.
“What about tonight (y/n)?” Tommy asked in a low voice,
“She just really insulted me directly. Accused me of trying to steal you. Saying I was damaged.” You finally looked at him.
“Look, Tommy, It’s fine I-” You were cut off by Tommy’s loud voice.
“No, (y/n) It’s not fine. You are my best friend, you-you are everything, your funny, caring beautiful, and- you should have told me and I’m, I’m so sorry.” The last couple words he said turned to a hoarse whisper.  This was the most emotion you had seen from Tommy in awhile.
“I left her.”
Tommy stepped even closer to you, you weren’t sure if it was even possible. He caressed your face rubbing away the traces of the tears you once had shed.
“I never loved her.” He whispered.
“What?”
“I took her because I thought I could never have you. I thought I would be able to play along and watch you meet someone and be happy with someone else but I was breaking day after day.”
He caressed your cheek and gently ghosted his fingertips over your lips.
“I love you.”
You looked at him. “I love you,” you whispered.
He slowly moved even closer until your lips were mere centimeters apart.
“May I?” He asked quietly.
To answer him you slowly closed the gap between the two of you. It was lovely. The way his warm lips enveloped yours was mesmerizing. The both of you moved in perfect synch.  After a few minutes of pure bliss, the two of you reluctantly pulled apart and looked at each other not saying a word, both just so captivated by the others beauty.

orange coloured sky (1/?)

summary: when magnus hired a new gardener for the summer, he didn’t expect his new employee to be accompanied by cold drinks, long talks, and sunsets, but he sure as hell isn’t going to complain - aka. the gardener / summer job au no one asked for
pairing: magnus bane/alec lightwood
tags: pre-relationship, summer jobs flirting, gardens & gardening

for the beautiful birthday girl @magnusbaene <3

can also be read on ao3

There’s a light knock on the front door, making Magnus look up from his laptop where he’s been emerged in work for the last couple of hours.

It’s a little past noon and the sun is shining brightly through the windows and into Magnus’ office. He’d decided to work from home today, wanting to be here to meet his new gardener.

As he makes his way through the house to greet his guest, he’s mentally preparing himself to be met by some lanky teenager with greasy hair and bad posture.

Simon had called a few weeks ago to let him know that he wasn’t able to work as Magnus’ gardener this summer, like he had for the past three years, due to pre-college activities. He’d immediately promised to find someone else to do it, and Magnus had automatically thought it’d be one of Simon’s high school buddies.

The reality, as he opens the door, is much different, but Magnus is definitely not about to complain.

The man in front of him is far from a lanky teenager. Sure, he’s tall, but the way the fabric of his t-shirt stretches over his muscular chest, defined arms showing underneath the cuffed sleeves, makes it clear that he didn’t graduate high school yesterday.

“Hi, I’m Alec,” the man says, a lopsided smile on his face as he offers Magnus his hand.

Keep reading

So Much for Essay Writing

Pairing: Peter Parker x (Gender Neutral) Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 795

Summary: 4. “C’mere, you can sit in my lap until I’m done working.” and 5. “I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.” ALSO I left the age a little ambiguous, so you could imagine them in either high school or college.

Requested by @secondxreality​ - Thank you so much for requesting because hot damn once I got started I had other ideas and I’m so excited about writing again! 


Peter had been hanging out with you while you worked. You had thought it would be a study date so you could both get work done. Things had not gone according to plan. He either had a lot less work than you, or was just not doing it, because he certainly wasn’t working on any homework. What he was doing was everything in his power to distract you from your work.

“Peter, stop it.” You swatted his hand away as it hovered in your field of vision.

“No. I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.” He said, pressing his finger into your cheek. Again.

“Peter!”

He removed his finger and threw up his hands. When you couldn’t see him in you peripheral vision anymore you let you shoulders relax and you thought you were finally safe. Able to finish your essay in peace.

Keep reading

How the Mercs Study for Finals

(So I’m a couple days late with this, but whatever.)

Medic

Did his undergrad in cell biology.

He has the worst study habits known to humankind. He procrastinates. Pulls all-nighters two nights in a row, then crashes on the floor of his dorm common area.

If the material for a certain class is interesting, he’ll go waaaay beyond what’s expected of him. Read the textbook sections that aren’t assigned. Sit in the front row of class and ask questions that stump the professor. He’ll stretch a two-minute summary presentation into fifteen minutes.

If the material for a class isn’t interesting, he can barely force himself to work on it. Homework isn’t in by the deadline, and he’s winged quite a few tests with no studying at all.

Also, being a bio major, Medic is slave laborer volunteer in one the cell bio labs. The undergrad peons are tasked with feeding the cells in the middle of the night, so he frequently studies in the lab break room. He’ll kick his shoes off, throw books and papers everywhere, and erase the common blackboard so he can draw his own anatomy diagrams and dove doodles.  When it comes time to feed the cells, he’ll pad across the lab in his socks. The PI knows Ludwig is a walking safety violation, but hey, the kid is really good at keeping the cells alive.

When Medic’s grades come out, he’s earned a mixture of A+’s and D-‘s.

Only reason he got accepted to med school was because his name was on several scientific papers before he finished undergrad. Always give authorship to the guy who keeps the cells alive.

Engie

Electrical engineering undergrad.

Dell is that one guy who grasps very abstract concepts very quickly. (“Well, of course adiabatic compression causes temperature increase.” And he understands fugacity.) He’s really good at thermo. Fight me.

All of his classmates would hate him if he weren’t so willing to help everybody else. He does it partially out of niceness, partially to show off, and partially because explaining concepts helps him learn.

For finals week, Dell and a friend or five will camp out in one of those group study rooms that have blackboards. They’ll settle down with coffee and a box of doughnuts or something and just crank out practice problems. Groups study sessions are loud. Lots of talking and arguing about theory and approaches. Occasional tears.

The janitor has to kick them out every night. It’s probably a good thing. Dell is not Ludwig – he’s never pulled an all-nighter in his life, and when he doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t function.

Heavy

Did his undergrad in literature.

He’s the most serious student you’ve ever seen. Going to college is a great opportunity, and he’s very lucky to be here. And damnit. He. Will. Not. Screw. It. Up.

Anyway, because of the nature of his degree, he has more final projects than final exams. Misha starts his projects the day they’re assigned. All his books have annotations in the margins; they’re so well-thumbed that the bindings are starting to fail. He goes to every office hour every week, asking the professor to give his draft a looksee. (“For the umpteenth time, it’s fine, just write the final draft already.) The biggest fault with his writing is his tendency to pander to what the professor wants to hear. He wants good grades so badly that he’ll forget about himself in the process. The professors have had to give him a loving kick in the pants now and again. Tell him it’s okay to disagree with them.

Misha’s been known to get over 100% in some of his classes because he went to all the extra-credit poetry readings.

It goes without saying that he got into graduate school without trouble.

Demo

I like to think that Demo tried college, but never completed it. Entering a formal classroom setting after a lifetime of homeschooling is rough enough. And it’s been shown pretty clearly that Demo’s coping skills are… not the greatest. Because I am a cruel and terrible person, I hc him as suffering from crippling test anxiety.

And let’s face it, testing environments can suck. Being stuffed in an enormous lecture hall with a “desk” that’s smaller than an 8.5x11 sheet of paper, listening to the sniffles of a hundred other students, not being allowed to use the bathroom while the florescent lights flicker overhead…Tavish will choke. He can’t focus on the problems because he’s panicking so hard. And then he’ll look up, realize he has fifteen minutes left and scribble down some sort of nonsense synthesis because he has to write something.

Anyway, he failed his finals for Principals of Chem and Orgo I. That locked him out of being any sort of chemistry major. His advisor recommended he transfer to the humanities, which Tavish interpreted as a major slap in the face. He didn’t return for a second semester.

Interestingly enough, he aced the practical portion of the Orgo I final. He had four lab periods to identify a completely unknown chemical, but got it done in a period and a half. Pop that sucker in the IR, do a functional group test for confirmation, and he’s golden. He also got a copy of the Sigma-Aldritch catalog from his mom and used that to compare spectra.

buy my love [one]

Note: thank you for putting up with all those drafts. after forty-seven years here it is in full un-edited glory. it’s different than how i originally pictured it, but i’m happy that it’s done. this will be multi-part, and they’ll be short. sometimes they won’t even be connected. also i usually put pictures next to my scenarios, but i’m going to discontinue doing that starting now and moving forward.

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader
Genre: smut, smut, and more smut, sugar mama au
Warnings: escort/prostitution, oral, semi-public
Word Count: 1722
Rating: NC-17/MA

Multi Parts: [one] [two] [three] **ongoing, to be updated as i write…**

Summary: It started in the bathroom of a club…

*

*

*

Taehyung doesn’t expect a lot out of the latest networking event. It’s already two months into year four already, and so far he hasn’t scored a single internship, mentorship, apprenticeship, or a ship to moon so he could maybe die after disappointing his family for the last time. He’s generally not a bitter person, but it’s particularly off-putting to see all of his close friends make real progress towards their dreams while he flounders in some sort of weird, purgatorial, developmental hell. This was not at all how university was supposed to go. 

He fidgets in his seat as he rereads the texts Jimin sent him reminding him of the online statistics quiz due tonight at 11:59PM. 

[18:08] jimin: i know you didnt even start and its like 33 questions long

[18:08] jimin: it took me an hour to finish rip

[18:10] jimin: question order will probably be randomized but if u start and u need help lmk. good luck @ networking!

Taehyung is about 99% grateful for the reminder and offer from his roommate, so it’s with a guilty heart that he tries to squash the ugly 1% that wants to throw a tantrum about not needing a babysitter to finish the dumb quiz. 

Not good enough. No one says those exact words to his face, but they don’t need to - not when the world slaps him with a daily reminder through each rejection notice and unanswered call. It’s not like his current debt-to-income ratio isn’t depressing the hell out of him already. Graduation is approaching; he’ll probably enlist. And this would give him another two to three years worth of a grace period before he’s forced to tackle the biggest question of his life: now what?

Keep reading

DAY 3546

PuriPai, Thailand              Dec 9,  2017              Sat 9:30 pm local time 




Birthday - EF Ankur R Churiwal    …   Sonia Ef    Sunday, Dec 10, 2017 .. and our wishes for this birthday of theirs and our greetings to them for a wonderful and blessed year .. love from us all .. the Ef ..




The forests and the wild invite us again .. the winding roads, misty and fogged .. the rising sun desperately trying to sneak its rays about the horizon, in vain .. the make up routine .. the deliberations of a very dedicated team of locals and locals from across the sea, or rather the Bay .. a sincere host country .. the absence of any kind of crowd disturbance .. and the luxury of continued repetitions of a shot till there is absolute conformity and agreement to the creative and authenticity of the scene .. 

Digital Camera .. that wonder in today’s times allows us this liberty .. there is now no film .. as in celluloid film, like in the past, and I often wonder why we are still called the film Industry .. a chip runs endlessly inside the digital camera, specially designed and that is the norm .. no wastage of celluloid film, a most expensive and rare ingredient in the films made in my times .. all gone .. KODAK has shut down .. and that tension of expending excessive film for a production is now all the past and irrelevant ..

As artists in those times, worried whether the shot has come out right or not, we would ask and request for another ‘take’ .. and the reprimand from the director, mostly Hrishi Da, used to be .. “ you pay for it “ and we would resign ourselves to the instincts of the master the captain of the ship, the director .. !

Now of course there are multiple monitors and gadgetry which enable us to see each and every frame in high speed to check faults .. and be allowed multiple retakes, to improve ..

Directors of our times stood by the camera while the shot was on, to start and cut the shot, to observe the artist as he or she performed .. now they all sit behind a monitor, distant from where the scene is being done, watching the artist not live, but through the projection they get on the screen of the monitor .. and better still .. thanks to the various proficient Apps., available, each scene is edited on location, within minutes and can be seen in its rough entirety to gauge its value, almost immediately ..

As opposed to those early days, when the reel containing the footage of film would be taken off the camera, put inside black clothed enclosures for fear of exposure to sun and thereby ruining the content, packed inside tin boxes specially designed in circular fashion, for that was how they were loaded on to the camera for shooting and play .. sent off to the Laboratory for processing, generally involving days, delivered to special editing rooms of the editor of the film, cut through a long arduous process - where each frame of celluloid was run on an editing machine, a Moviola and then later on a modernised version brand named Steinbeck .. intricate decision making by the editor without any technical help or assistance, sending it off to be seen in a regular mini theatre through projector, to be able to see .. to see the scene shot .. taking months at times ..

NOW ..

All that process wiped out in time, by computerisation .. much like the prediction in times to come, of the computer wiping out civilisation .. that is if we survive the other more recent and alarming discovery of the largest Black Hole in the galaxy .. 800 million times the mass of the Sun .. !!

The Hole having the ability to suck in and devour the entire hemisphere and our world about us .. fortunately we are safe for now, .. ‘for NOW’ .. as the scientist analysing its effect confided to anxious enquiries .. since .. that phenomena, was still some billions of light years away from us mere mortals .. !!

“OK everyone breathe normally”  .. ! As the voice inside that MRI tube comes, from the medical team, drafting and compiling the imagery of the insides of your body ..

‘None of us shall be around when that happens .. !!’

Stars, the galaxy, the astronomical adventures and discoveries each coming year, bringing us closer to the very existence of us all .. the hemisphere, the world we live in, the planets and so much more ..  so so intriguing !

When elders pass away, the questions asked by the grandchildren of young age, on the sudden absence of their Dada or Nana .. the response from parents has always been, ‘they went away to become a star .. up in the sky, in the Heavens’ .. and the look of belief in the innocent eyes of the child are enough to seek another living for ourselves  .. 

Seems odd .. but as my Father aged, on one fine day, he asked me whether it would be possible to get him a powerful telescope in the house .. I readily agreed and got him one .. he would spend time trying to learn its functioning ; they are a little complicated in its operation, and spend a lot of time as night came about, to look into the skies ..

Looking into the skies .. ? 

Perhaps to seek a reserved destination for them, after their passing .. perhaps .. I never did ask my Father why ..?

And in time, when I shall be asked similar question, I too would not have reasonable answer ..


AND .. just an after thought ..

.. is it normal for the ones that age to wish to connect with those that time has kept away from us .. old school friends, relatives ignored till now and wanting to reconnect .. matters of the past ; incidents, locations, people ..

Is it .. ?



Amitabh Bachchan

That annoying dog again! (Mom!Chara AU)

saemi-the-dreamer submitted:  

*cough* (yes me again, sorry!!) I found this in my drafts……………. it is quite inspired of this art and an idea I had a small while ago based on your story. IThere are things I should have changed/corrected surely, but I hope you will like it anyway. ((btw: Fafnir is MK’s headcanon name of my friend Naehja! =D )

—————————————————————————————

“Mom? Are there any cats in the Underground?”

 Chara turned to the child in surprise.

 “Cats?” they repeated. “Well, some Monsters in Hotlands could be called cats, but if you are talking about the small animal of the surface, I do not think there are any here.” they turned back to the stew, stirring it lightly.  “Why do you ask?”

 “Fafnir showed me a book of cats today during the break. He had found it in the dump.” cutlery clashed lightly, Chara glanced above their shoulder and gazed at Frisk who was setting the table for dinner. “I had seen some pictures of them in human books before, but never at home. So I was curious.” the child explained. “And because there are dogs down and up!”

 Chara snorted at their child’s way of speech, tasted the stew and, satisfied with it, stopped cooking. They walked to the fridge and retrieve the freshly baked pie and put it on the countertop.

 “Yes, but Dogs here are a lot different than those up there.” they answered at the same time. “They are very similar when they are puppies and in their general behaviour though.”

 “What about annoying dog?” Frisk inquired. “It is not like any other Dog here, so does it come from the surface like us?”

 “I doubt so, annoying dog was already here when I arrived all those years ago. A dog from the surface could not live that long.”

 Annoying dog was the “nickname” Asriel had chosen for a small dog that kept coming here and there after he and Toriel had been chasing after it, the latter having stolen his mother’s phone. Still today, the phone was untraceable. And apparently, this dog had been a little troublemaker to many other Monsters.

 Frisk hummed, they seemed deep in their thoughts for a moment before their eyes saddened a bit. The Caretaker walked to them and put a hand on their child’s shoulder.

 “Frisk? What is wrong?”

 “Nothing, it’s just…” a small sigh escaped their lips. “I’m happy here but I wish I could remember the surface. Sometimes, I feel like I will never see it and I… I really want to.”

 “I understand how you feel.” Chara gently grasped Frisk’s chin in his hand to make them look up. “But you know, maybe it is not a bad thing that you ended down here. If that loathsome human in charge of you could do that to you when you were a baby, then can you imagine if it had kept you?” Frisk blinked. “No, do not think about it my child. You are better here with us. And your father and I are working on going back to the surface, we will all see the sun together and create a wonderful world for everyone.” they knelt down. “I promise you, Frisk.”

 “I love you, Mom.”

Keep reading

not-so-perfect-porcelain  asked:

No matter what I do, I can't make myself try in school. I'm a solid B student, but I know if I applied myself fully,instead of procrastinating until the last minute and handing in first drafts, I could be a ninties student. Ugh. I keep fucking myself over. Advice?

Hiya there!
omggg i understand. i really do. this happens to me too :((
thing is procrastination strikes at times just as this & youve got so much potential & can easily score well. but dont worry, with some time, hard work & patience you can tackle it!
i haven’t put the basic things you find on websites cuz you prolly know/ read em. i put a few things i use & find helpful. 
(sry if somethings sound harsh, it’s just that being honest is the best thing you can do to combat procrastination)

some tips: 

  • do you have a goal in life? a thing you’re working towards? maybe an ambition, or something personal that you want to achieve in life? everyone you sit down to study & feel like you dont want to, remember it. think of it. remember why you stared in the first place. maybe if you dont have a career choice for yourself yet, maybe have some small goal.
    for egs i want to be happy in life. if that’s your goal, do something that makes you happy. prioritize things that make you happy. 
  • a lyric by eminem i stand by:
    ‘look if you ever had one shot or one opportunity to seize everything you ever wanted in one moment, would you capture it or just let it slip?’
  • procrastination is the thief of time. i know its cliché lol but look at it this way; you have 2 weeks for an exam, you can either spend 2 weeks spreading out your work load and studying OR you can spend everyday wasting time & cramming in the last 2 days. 
  • what’s something that you procrastinate doing? like for me its reading books or youtube or just scrolling through tumblr. i cut out reading books during exam time & read only at night. i cut out youtube during exam time as well. tumblr is something i come to once a day fr a few minutes. this all took time & it wasn’t easy.
    so cut out things that you procrastinate on. one by one. every small action matters. 
  • try the pomodoro method. give this a read & try it. you can download the app as well!
  • read this from this awesome site:
    “ I have friends who almost never let themselves do the really fun things they want to do during the semester.
    They’ll talk about how much they want to play a certain game or watch a new movie, but when I suggest that they just go play it, they’ll say: “I really can’t; I have way too much homework and I’d feel guilty.”
    Five minutes later, though, I’ll see them scrolling through their Facebook feed.
    I call this low-density fun.
    Scrolling through your news feed or watching a few funny videos on YouTube is easy, and it’s sort of fun to do.
    However, because it’s so easy and feels so unlike “real” fun, it’s easy to not feel guilty about it – which leads to a lot of procrastination.
    The solution? Commit to having your high-density fun.
    If you want to play a video game later, commit to starting it at 8 p.m.
    Then, make sure all your work is done by then.
    Let your high-density fun create a deadline that propels you into focused work. “
  • a quote i LOVE:
    “effort never betrays you”
  • try the 2 minute method. 
    study for JUST 2 minutes. and then maybe just 2 more minutes? then maybe just 2 more! 
    trick your brain like this. trick your brain into thinking that studying is actually fun & that you’d want to do it just for 2 more minutes & keep going on. it really works for meeee!
  • try this study method: 
    • do the easiest or most fun thing the first
    • then do the hardest
    • then the 2nd hardest
    • then something that HAS to be done
    • then finish off with something easy & fun!
  • eat the frog lol pls not really
    if you have something which you HATE doing, do that first. finish that first & then go ahead with the rest.
  • is there something you really like doing? for egs if you loooove chocolate, you can buy a small stash & keep it away. then you sit down & do some work & then IF and ONLY IF you’re satisfied with yourself, indulge in yourself. if you’re unhappy with the work done, do not take it.
  • if youve got a lot of things to do, make a timetable for yourself or a to-do list. also allocate an hour of activities/ exercise/ something you can do to get fresh air. it gets the blood flowing & helps a lot!
  • if its a subject you hate:
    just using my egs here, i hate physics & I’m bad at it but doing sums & questions make me happy cuz then with some hard work, i get the correct answer! so if you have a subject such as this, try to do something which helps you get an answer which might motivate you!
  • if you’re an audio learner (you can find you which type of learner you are here) try listening to some videos while you jog/ exercise. Khan academy (an app) lets you download the videos you want and u can listen to em offline. they’re really really good!!
  • if you know what type of learner you are, study using those methods!
  • think of the effort you have put in, in the past few years!! youve been in school for so long & if you dont put in the effort for this year, you’re basically wasting the time you spent in the past few years!
  • think of the effort, time & money your parents put to get you this education. work hard & make em proud ☺️
  • do you have a park in your area/ a coffee shop/ library? go there, DO NOT GET WIFI!!! delete all the games off your phone  a well if you want to, & study there.
  • think of all that you can do for this world. youve got so much potential & so much to give. why waste it? 
    if you ever fail in anything, that is okay, you can always try again! just remember, its the effort that counts.
  • be a sincere student. you’re not only lying to your teachers, you’re lying to your parents & yourself.
  • if it really gets out of hand, call your mum/ dad/ sibling t sit with you in the same room & study while they’re there, or better, teach them! that way they can call you out when you’re wasting time.
  • switch off your wifi modem? ask ur family members if its okay lols
  • give ur phone/ computer/ tablet/ etc to your patents, tell em to lock it in a cupboard & not give it to u. tell them to hide the key as well 😂
  • study with friends if that helps you! prom each other when you waste time 
  • try fear?
    the day before your exam, work up all the things that might happen if you dont do your exam well or if you dont study. that might get your motors running? warning: this is kinda pessimistic. this is not for everyone. also if you have anxiety pls ignore this 
  • remember, just be you. having fun is no crime but trying to escape your responsibilities is well kinda. try to get eternal happiness NOT momentary happiness.
  • do not let the toxic mixture of laziness & fear mess everything up 
  • watch this 😂 
  • watch this as well! then get back to work k!!
  • this post by @emmastudies on how to beat procrastination is v v good!!
  • make a good timetable if you’d like & stick to it. again u can force your fam to help u
  • discipline is MUST. try to follow a strict routine!
    “suffer the pain of discipline or the pain of regret.”
  • do NOT compare yourself to others.
  • everybody makes mistake, everybody has those days but the goal is to nOT make the same one again. try not to!
  • look, you can do it. set your mind to it. sit down, get your things out & just begin.
    i know you can. YOU know you can!!!! the only thing stopping you is you. do not let your dreams be crushed by a the needs of momentary happiness.

sry if this post is kinda long oops
i hope this helped! 
ace this, hun! you can do it. if you ever want to talk/need help, pls do send me an ask/ message.  
i know that its hard to break procrastination but trust me, you will get over it. just keep trying, k?
take care & good luck. 💕