“What do you want, Andrew?” you snapped at him as quietly as you could, so that no one would hear you.
“I wanted to apologize.”
You stood there, your arms crossed, head down. He wanted to apologize. Apologize. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what to think. He hurt you. He put you in a situation you’d never been in before, and one you’d hoped to never be in again.
“Y/N,” he whispered, “please say something.”
“What am I supposed to say Andrew?” your head snapped up, finally making eye contact with him, “you-” your eyes began to water- “you hurt me, and I know I cheated on you, and I’m sorry for that, but you, you should never have done that to me.”
Your shoulders were shaking while you were fighting sobs. You were determined not to cry in front of Andrew, he didn’t deserve it; but regardless if you were crying or not, you were a blubbering mess. You just couldn’t get your words out. Andrew stepped forward and placed a hand on your shoulder.
She doesn’t mean to, she just…does. Because there’s nowhere else to go. Her mom is in a coffin. Damon gives her the weepy eyes, Bonnie is gone, Elena spends most of the funeral following after her Salvatore. And Stefan doesn’t want her. Stefan doesn’t want her. She’s an idiot, she decides. Because every little touch she gets from him, every little speech, every little ‘if one single part of you came back to check on me—’ it’s made up. All in her naive, Caroline Forbes ‘true love can conquer all’ mentality. No one checks on her. No one cares. And when she gets into her car after her mom’s funeral, after realizing that all of this is just biding her time until the next chaotic bad guy that streaks through Mystic Falls — she leaves.
She doesn’t realize that she’s going to the airport until she’s there. It’s in Richmond. A good three hours away from the Falls she grew up in. Her phone has been lighting up with a constant stream of messages the whole ride, and she throws it out the window somewhere past the freeway. The irony of it though, is that it really is freeing. Caroline has always held this theory about airports, and it’s this: no one cares what the hell you do at an airport. Case in point: the woman next to her is sexting her husband’s brother. The kid across from her has gotten tangled in his kid-leash ( who even invented that, anyway? ), a couple has been making out for the past ten minutes. And if they look close enough, if they shift their gaze and slant their eyes — they’ll see a girl. Cheeks streaked with tears, curls falling limply around her face, standing in the middle of it all clutching an envelope she’s had buried for years, all while she’s in the dress that she wore to her mom’s burial.
The ticket is for New Orleans. And she got it two years ago. On her birthday. No note, no drawing, no signature. Just a first class ticket to the big easy. Ya know, in case. She doesn’t text a thank you, and he doesn’t expect one. But she keeps it. Tucked away in the back of a Microbiology textbook. And now it’s crushed in her hand. The lady at the desk argues with her for an hour and a half until she hits her with her full on ‘I am Caroline Forbes hear me roar’ self — and then she’s got a coach ticket to Tokyo.
When Jamie woke in the morning he registered three things.
First, his left hand was cupping the lovely pink clad arse of one
Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.
Two, he had an erection. Again.
Three, Claire was soaking wet which meant her fever had
And for good measure he counted a fourth. He’d never slept better.
He let his lips brush gently across her forehead, and started to
get up. Claire stirred, and like new butterflies slowing opening their wings,
her eyelids fluttered open. She took in
their position and her eyes widened.
Jamie attempted to soften the shock, “Seems as if yer fever’s
broken, Sassenach. Yer a sweaty
mess. How do ye feel?”
Claire dipped her head and took stock. She met Jamie’s eyes again. “Better, actually. Hungry.”
“Lucky for you, Sassenach, I make a mean scotch woodcock.” And he
rolled out of bed quickly before she could feel the state of his manhood. He definitely needed the island and the
cooktop between himself and Claire.
“A what??” She sounded
He peeked back around the door frame. “Relax.
Scrambled eggs on toast.”
After breakfast in which Claire proved she could, indeed, eat a
lot, she announced she needed a shower and some fresh clothes. Jamie agreed she would be more comfortable in
her own bathroom. When she announced she’d be back in an hour, his relief
surprised him. He wasn’t ready to let
He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, other than that Claire
intrigued him. She was this angel of
mercy who came into his life and left a mark on his heart. She was honest, and straight-forward. She worked hard and never complained. For God’s sake, she was going into work with
The one and only girlfriend he ever had was the most high-maintenance
of women. Annalise needed constant
attention and when he couldn’t give it, she constantly pouted. Always dressed to perfection, he’d never seen
her without makeup. In contrast, he’d
never seen Claire with makeup wearing anything other than her scrubs. Well, her
pink knickers were nice. He’d be willing
to take a second look at that again sometime soon.
Showered, dressed in jeans and sweatshirt, feet bare, Jamie set up
his work for the day. Even though he was
CEO of Fraser Distillery, he was also its graphic designer. As the company grew he was constantly being
told to hand it off, but he refused. He
needed his creative side to stay sane.
And because it was his name, he would also be responsible for the face
Today’s task – labels for the new wines. He knew the shape of the label, and using his
template for the lettering he started work on his computer. Having carved out the space for the artwork,
Jamie started to sketch. Deep into his
work it was a while before he realized Claire wasn’t back yet. Pocketing his mobile, he went upstairs to her
flat. He knocked on the door. Nothing.
Banging now, he shouted, “Claire!”
God. What if she fell in the
shower? What if she decided to go to
work? No. No, she would have come for her pocketbook. He paused and knocked again, louder. Dammit. Nothing.
Sprinting down the stairs to his flat he tore through the lounge
and lifted his window. Freezing November
air caught him in the face. Heedless of
his bare feet he sprinted up the fire escape to her window. Cupping his face to the glass he breathed a
sigh of relief and fogged it up. He
stepped back, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Heart rate decreasing, he tried the
window. Locked. Okay.
She was okay.
He took out his phone and texted her. Bloody cold out here Beauchamp. Help a guy out?
He watched as Claire looked at her phone, and turned sharply from
her kitchen sink to the window. Thank
God for notification sounds.
She grabbed a towel to dry her hands and hurrying over to the
window, she fumbled with her phone and took out her earbuds. “Bloody hell, Jamie! What do you think you’re doing?”
He felt stupid now that he was in her flat. And he couldn’t think of anything cool to
say. So, he blurted out the truth. “Ye said an hour. I was worried ye’d fallen or somethin’. Yer still somewhat weak.”
He gestured helplessly as he looked down at the floor. “I mean, yer fever just broke last night and
ye havena eaten in days.”
Claire was touched. And now
that he mentioned it, tired. But her
flat was such a mess. It’d been ages
since she’d cleaned and when she walked in earlier it seemed like she should
take care of it. “My laundry’s a fright,
Jamie. And my flat is disgusting. I work so much…I thought the music would keep
me awake long enough to put a dent in it and….”
She let the sentence trail off.
Jamie nodded. “Here. Let’s do the laundry at my place. The rest we’ll tackle when yer feeling
She nodded. Jamie gathered
up all the sorted piles of clothes and tossed them back into her overflowing basket. He turned to carry it out the window and she
“Come on, Sassenach. Make
sure the front door is locked. Since
it’s only us who share this escape, we can trust yer window to stay
unlatched.” Checking the door, and
grabbing her key, she shut the window after her, and followed him down the
short flight that separated them.
Stepping into the warmth of his home Claire asked, “Jamie? “What’s “Sassenach”?”
Jamie set the basket down, and closed the window. “It means English woman. Well, someone who isna from here, who isna
He turned to see her standing with hands on hips, a somewhat
stubborn look on her face. Her freshly
washed hair framed her face in a riot of curls.
Those whisky coloured eyes washed over him. She smelled sweet and clean.
He’d never seen a woman more beautiful. In that moment, she was all the folklore, all
the legends, and all the superstitions of his culture wrapped into one. He was completely under her spell. “My father used to tell us the legend of the
woman who was stolen by the fairy folk, who traveled through the stones from
faraway lands. They’re rare. Unique.
Claire shivered at his voice.
It was low and soft, mesmerizing, vibrating with emotion. And his sky blue eyes pierced through her as
he spoke, almost at a whisper. “A Sassenach is spritely. And spirited.”
Claire had never felt such a pull of attraction. God, was he handsome. And that mop of red
hair was dark auburn, and thick with golds.
But it was more than his looks that called to her. It was his soul. The
soul of him that set her nerves buzzing.
He licked his lips. Claire’s breath shuddered. He gave her that half smile again and said
She shook her head. “Did
you just say “with ears like the wings of an elf”?”
“Elves don’t have wings!” she admonished.
“Scottish ones do.”
And she lunged at him, only to be caught in a bear hug. She fake struggled, and he fake pretended she
hurt him, and it was really only a way to flirt and touch and they both knew
it. So when she wrapped her arms around
his middle and laid her head on his chest, he very naturally brushed his lips
across her forehead and hugged her back.
And when they parted, it felt like they’d hugged a million times before.
The moment was broken, but not forgotten.
Jamie set to work on his designs while Claire started her
laundry. They made pasta for lunch in an
effort to get some weight back on Claire, and Claire ate two bowls. Jamie took a phone call and when he was
finished he noticed Claire had fallen asleep.
Good. Lord knows she needs the rest. He took
his spare blanket and covered her on the sofa.
By the time she woke up in the late afternoon her last load was in
the washer, Jamie was making pizza, and had pulled out the bottle of red wine
he’d taken from the tasting. And Claire
was pleasantly surprised to see that a gentle snow had started falling. They ate together, lights out, on the leather
sofa that Jamie dragged over in front of the window that led to the fire
With only the street lamps to cast a soft glow into the flat, they
talked quietly of their childhoods, and shared stories of how their parents had
passed. Jamie was surprised to hear of
Claire’s travels with her Uncle Lamb, the archeologist. And Claire was surprised to hear of Jamie
losing his brother, Willie. He even
showed her the little wooden snake with “Sawny” etched on the back that Willie
made him. She smiled at the nickname.
Eventually the black iron of the fire escape turned into an ever
changing white sculpture. And just as
slowly, they moved towards each other.
Her feet in his lap first, his hand across the back of the sofa, her
sitting up to place a head on his shoulder, him stretching a leg so that
eventually she was sitting between his legs, her back to his front.
When she half turned to smile at something he said, the kiss that
followed seemed as natural as breathing.
So, my brother translated anime tastes to alcohol tastes
He’s a manager at a specs, so I provided the description of various anime fans and he compared them to the different types of alcohol drinkers. See if you can find yourself!
Hiatus Survivors. The kind of people who stick with a show or manga through years of hiatuses, or back-to-back breaks, like Hunter x Hunter or Fairy Tail
= The people who come in twice every day, usually before and after work, buy a pint (often cheap rum or vodka), pay and leave. Very friendly, keep to themselves. Probably seen some shit.
Entry Level Anime. Naruto, Bleach, Fma. We all start somewhere.
= Bud light. I feel this one is self explanatory XD Those people who come to parties and make a beeline for the beer cooler while their friends get totally plastered on heavier drinks.
Ghibli Movies. May not have a whole lot of knowledge about anime, but mention Howl’s Moving Castle and their eyes light up. Or long-time fans who started with Ghibli, and always hold a special place for it in their hearts.
= Sweet liquor. Think Bailey’s Irish Cream.The sweetness reflects the interactions you’ll have with these kindly souls.
Sports Anime. Heavily emotionally invested in their fictional team, will absolutely refer to every single member as their son. They can survive for years in a desert on nothing but a single look between their ship.
= Boxed Vodka. Need their fix, will settle on just about anything to get it. They have transcended social boundaries. Probably also drinking to forget.
Popular Anime Junkies. For example Attack on Titan, Sword Art Online, etc. The hordes of people who show up at the convention that year dressed as Kirito.
= Bourbon drinkers. They’re following the Bourbon Boom. The name alone sells it for them, and they can get very elitist despite having little actual knowledge.
Mechas. We’re talking Gundam, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Aldnoah.zero, etc. Love the intense emotional development that comes with these shows, as well as the extremely awesome fight scenes involving two giant robots hitting eachother.
= Sweet Whiskey. You don’t really like the taste of alcohol, but you want to get pumped up.
Romance Novelers. The people who love anything with a romantic plot. Usually heavily invested in school-life shoujos. Play dating games.
= Dessert wines. The people who like sweet drinks. “Where’s the wine that’s basically chocolate?” to quote one woman. Not to be underestimated. Although they act like easygoing suburban moms, they can drink a lesser person into a coma.
Bodyhorror and Psychological Anime. Fans who like a little gore and mental trauma to go with their existential crises.
= Everclear. Scotch whiskey. They need the strong stuff. Drink like they’re trying to die, but in a classy kind of way. Love to get fucked up.
Anime Elitists. If isn’t subs, you better watch out. Or better yet, REAL fans watch it in the original Japanese. They also think that manga only/ anime only is the way to go. Will probably shame you for liking certain genres, or for being a fan of entry level animes.
= Wine Snobs. You know the ones. Like to feel superior about their extensive knowledge of where the grapes were grown, what year its from, the ability to sense an “oaky undertaste”. Avoid at all costs.
The Classics. Sailor Moon, Astro Boy, Akira. The animation may be aged, but it will always hold beauty in your eyes. An absolute sucker for those old color palettes. Atrocious voice acting does not phase you.
= Gin and tonic. A straightforward alcohol classic, no frills needed. You just can’t go wrong.
Spaceship Anime. Cowboy Bebop, Space Dandy, Outlaw Star. They just love a good romp through space in a beat up but awesome spacecraft. A side order of emotional trauma and philosophical debate is always welcome.
= Rum. They probably first tried it because it sounded cool. It’s the alcohol of pirates, right?? Good luck out drinking them.
Casual Viewers. They like an anime or two, but you’ll never catch them mixed up in fandom drama. They’re pretty chill. Probably a fan of the classics.
= The suburban couple who only came in because they’re entertaining guests. Will joke and laugh with the associate helping them. Don’t know anything about alcohol.
Creepy Dudes With Hygiene Issues. Get way to close to girls at conventions and make them uncomfortable. Probably also an anime elitist. Usually found talking very loudly at an unwilling victim. Can not or will not read body language. Likely to have body odor and a fedora. At every convention.
= Mojito flavored energy drinks. Yes, they exist. They are exactly as gross as they sound.
Special Mention: Jo Jo’s Bizarre Adventure. You guys get your own listing.
= The tequila with the worm in it. I don’t understand your tastes, but I respect and am slightly intimidated by you.
A/N: Someone requested this to me and I forgot to save their message. I’m so sorry to that other person!
Scale rating: Much Fluffy
Summary: Dan and Y/N reveal their relationship to subscribers. It gets mixed feelings.
You really didn’t understand. You understood that there were lots of Phan shippers out there. You knew Dan and Phil didn’t care about it. You honestly didn’t care either. You knew nothing was going on between the two friends. That was mostly because you and Dan started dating ages ago. You both tried keeping it a secret because you worried about reactions. Every video you did together, every time you hung out, it remained a secret. You felt back lying to your subscribers when they’d done so much for you. Yet, you didn’t know whether they’d accept it or not. Phil said that you two shouldn’t hide your relationship. The dark-haired boy understood the hesitancy, yet thought it was stupid to keep it.
‘It’s like diving into a pool. You won’t know if it’s cold unless you jump in. That’s what my mum says anyways.’
That’s when you both made “Secrets w/ Y/N”. Dan disguised it as a ‘telling secrets’ video. He talked about how he’d broken a vase and blamed it on the family dog. You told people how you’d secretly stolen your teacher’s answer book so you could cheat on a test. The video was filled with embarrassing stories and funny reactions. Then, Dan ended the video with a bombshell. He said he’s secretly dating someone. You acted as if you didn’t know and asked who she was.
“Well, she’s this really amazing girl with (your hair color) and pretty (your eye color). She and I have a lot in common. We hang out a lot and do stuff together all the time. I feel so different when I’m around her. She makes me feel good about myself. I spend less time in the black void that is an existential crisis and more around her. I can tell her anything and she doesn’t judge me,” he said. “I’m pretty happy with her.”
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Gravity Falls Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Stan Pines/Reader, Grunkle Stan | Stanley “Stanford” Pines/Reader, Stan/Reader, Stanley Pines/Reader Characters: Grunkle Stan | Stanley “Stanford” Pines Summary:
You’re a young local bartender, and he’s a sexy old adventurer. You two had been flirting for a while now. It’s a match made in heaven! Fem!dfab!reader x Stan. Fluff, smut, and hopefully a few laughs.
This is my shameless self-promotion.You can read it on ao3, or right here under the cut! Here’s my notes:
Wow, I am terrible at titles! Uhh, so I wanted to make this gender neutral at first (but still dfab, since that’s what im familiar with) buuuuuut I couldn’t think of many decent gender neutral compliments/adjectives. So, I haven’t written fanfic in like… 3 years? So I’m rusty. But I kind of love the grunkles, so I really wanted to write this. Also, sorry if there are any spelling/grammar mistakes, I finished this up late at night. Please feel free to leave constructive criticisms, especially since I’d like to write something for Ford next time… :D But uh, please enjoy!
Undercover (Part 2) - (Reader x Avengers) Word Count: 1600
A/N: Ehhhhh I fcked up. It ended up being serious. But at least it’s fluffy at the end! AND LOOK. PRETTY GIFS.
“How do you not know who this man is, Captain?” Pietro questioned Steve over the radio. “I thought you said you were close.”
“Hey, I’m close to her too you know.” Sam grumbled from his end.
“Boys, calm down.” Natasha smiled at the bartender as she ordered a drink. “I’ve got eyes on her.”
You were currently sitting alone at a table in the restaurant fiddling with your phone. In the romantic light, you looked stunning, though slightly worried. Every now and then you would look around and slump in your seat when you realised your date still hadn’t arrived yet.
(Really long appreciation post) I did say I was gonna make a post for this man. Here it is. Why? Because Colin Firth, that’s why. This man doesn’t need explanations. After all, the best things in this world are inexplicable. And because he’s my favorite. Which is also obvious.
But let us just revel in this Englishman’s perfection together. ❤💘💘
If you saw my post on Taron Egerton, you must have seen the picture of him dressed as a prince. He’s the perfect prince.
Well, make way for the perfect King.
And his queen is right here. Me.
Red is my favorite color.
So is blue.
Red, white, blue… At this rate, I wouldn’t mind wearing a union jack outfit or printed shirt just to impress him.
Thank you, Rose Tyler.
Colin can make even messy hair look so good.
To be a gentleman, you gotta behave like one. And Colin Firth knows that real well. I mean, he looks like a work of art even while just standing there. That, and his glorious accent.
Something so alluring about classy gentlemen I tell you. I swear Colin shows up like this in front of me, I would be dazed and just fumble with my words.
But who doesn’t admire a guy in a tuxedo? Don’t worry, I got that covered.
This “Magic in the moonlight” style. He definitely is Magic in the Moonlight alright.
He’s an expert in the art of tuxedos.
Bonus: Looking sexy in glasses.
Speaking of which…
Oh those glasses.
He makes me feel good about wearing them.
How about this sexy duo?
Colin Firth AND Benedict Cumberbatch?? Count me in!
Or this duo.
Or all three of them together in this fine British picture.
Enchanting Englishmen overload.
Ironic how Benedict Cumberbatch himself is explaining how I feel.
This award-winning look. (See what I did there).
It’s great you won an award, sir. You’re extremely talented but could you mind not looking so damn fine while doing it? I need to catch my breath.
All the times he places a hand on his face or head and you wish the hand was yours instead of his.
This one in particular. See the thumb there.
Why you do this, Mr. Darcy???
They say a smile can brighten one’s day. Colin’s smile does plenty of justice to that alright. Like it’s just ingrained in his DNA.
He looks so incredibly unassuming when he smiles. Like everything is calm and peaceful. You can just casually ask him out for coffee and like a sweetheart, he won’t refuse.
This is like one of those times you said something you probably shouldn’t have. Colin illustrates that adorably.
Bonus: A guitar to add the icing to this cake.
At this point, I would just gaze at this magnificent man.
In the off-chance he catches me staring at him, such will be my reaction, out of shock. Because I wouldn’t know what to do:
Then there are these times when this man has the nerve to look unbelievably cute.
You know those times when you see your crush and then that one fine moment when that person says hi to you.
Yep. Exactly. That moment of glory. And you’re just like:
These beautiful portraits.
Sometimes it’s okay to indulge in your favorite food to your heart’s content. Even Colin agrees.
Look at him. Not a care in the world.
I love this man.
Sitting in style.
Sitting on a bed.
Let’s take this a notch higher.
Screw consciousness. Whoever said sleep is for the weak has never been so wrong.
Oh my God… I’m gonna join him.
Bathtub and a glass of wine.
Now I’m REALLY gonna join him. Out of my goddamn way!
This glorious picture.
This Hollywood Walk of Fame moment.
Is he waiting for me?
I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t even think for a second if Colin took you on a date in a train. First Class.
Or a car. A romantic drive never gets old.
Or even a boat.
You just can’t resist this man.
Maybe a snowy night alone with him will do perfectly.
Colin is like fine wine. He only gets better with age.
Beards, five o’clock shadows. A perfect stubble goes a long way.
Suits aren’t the only things he looks attractive in.
Because you have to look goddamn attractive even when casually stepping out to grab some lunch.
This is your definition of casually???
Thank you for explaining my feelings again, Mr. Cumberbatch.
When I’m casually stepping out of my house, I’m okay with a t-shirt and jeans. I look like any average girl or sometimes, when I couldn’t care less, I look like a hobo.
But no, when Colin Firth steps out in a shirt and jeans, it’s glorious.
What the hell kind of a sorcery is this?
Again, this is how he casually steps out.
Are you kidding me with your handsome self, sir?
He even makes ugly sweaters look freaking adorable. Wtf.
I can’t take this. He looks so unbelievably cute. I want this Darcy!
It only gets a lot better.
When he looked absolutely debonair.
This is too much for my heart.
A young, dashing Firth.
My heart skipped a beat.
He really shouldn’t be sitting alone here.
If I found him like this, I would just take him into my house.
Being a true British. He can take his tea anytime, anywhere.
May I have some, too?
His rapport with Taron Egerton is so incredibly delightful. I think we can all agree.
In fact, I like how Taron looks like this loyal sidekick while Colin walks ahead in Kingsman: The Secret Service.
When Colin gave Taron a top notch gift.
I WANT ONE.
This. Just this.
Look at their laugh. Swoon.
Or this. Taron rubbing Colin’s arm to let him know he’s got his back in any situation. And Colin can always count on him.
I get it, Taron. I totally get it.
Just when you thought it couldn’t get any more endearing than that. These two aren’t afraid to show the world they’re fond of each other.
Of course you did, boys.
Back to you, Colin!
The list can go on and on and on because I can keep appreciating this man and it will never be enough. He’s wonderful, endearing and extremely talented. It doesn’t matter if his movies don’t fare well. His presence always manages to leave a mark. And he’s a sight for sore eyes.
Warnings: Some implied smut; nothing directly mentioned
Here ya go, poorbasil! I hope y'all find a way to appreciate this. xD
It is a chilly day in Philadelphia; the breeze flows through the windows of Washington’s Executive Cabinet’s meeting room. The room echoes with thunderous roars of Hamilton and Jefferson’s heated hour-long debate over the issue of slavery as other politicians sit meekly and listen.
“Slavery is a horrible establishment, but it is not the right of the federal government to regulate it!” hisses Jefferson.
Hamilton slams his fist against his desk. “Slavery takes away the natural rights of men who are equal to us inherently! It is in accordance with the Constitution that we secure the rights and liberties-”
Jefferson shoots up from his chair, knocking it to the ground as he yells, “It is in the hands of the people in individual states to determine whether we are to abolish slavery; this shouldn’t be the central government’s sole decision!”
Hamilton slowly rises from his political throne, glaring daggers at his arch enemy, but Washington suddenly intervenes in their debate exasperatedly, “Your repeated disagreements irk me! You two keep on repeating the same old arguments over and over again without coming to a single conclusion. I am done- you two can find a solution amongst yourselves while the rest of us enjoy our lunches elsewhere.”
Knox, Randolph, and Adams accompany President Washington out of the room, slamming the door behind them out of annoyance.
Jefferson immediately shoots a scathing look at Hamilton and glides over to his desk to pack his things. “What are you doing?” yells Hamilton.
“What do you think I’m doing? I’m collecting my things. I see no point in wasting my time trying to argue sense into a hard headed fool who wouldn’t know the truth if it was dressed in a corset and danced the waltz in front of him.” Jefferson proceeds to pack, then stomps toward the door.
Hamilton charges over and grabs Jefferson’s shoulder, pushing him against the wall and pinning him there with a hand on each shoulder. “What are you doing, you hooligan?!” stutters Jefferson.
“Let’s stop this charade- I know that you know that my ideas are correct! How can you be so stubborn and bullheaded that you cannot realize that your argument is majorly flawed?”
Jefferson breathes in sharply, preparing a retort in his head, ‘My argument is flawed? You bloody well know that the entire- oh my, he smells amazing! Like apple cider and- stop it, Thomas; you need to get him off of you!’
Jefferson shoves Hamilton but Hamilton is too strong. Jefferson grips his enemy’s arms in a desperate attempt to loosen Hamilton’s grip on him, stunned by the touch of Hamilton’s muscles and their impressive strength.
“What are you doing?” Hamilton gasps in exasperation as Jefferson inclines his head towards him, confusion apparent on Jefferson’s face. “Jefferson? Jeffy? Thomas? Are you alright?” Hamilton stares at Jefferson, concern showing in his eyes.
“What?” Jefferson responds, cheeks tinted red as he lifts his head guiltily away from Hamilton’s.
“Are you okay? You looked dazed for a minute; you’re not sick, are you?” Hamilton grasps Jefferson’s head and draws it closer to get a good look at him.
“Oh… no, no I’m fine! Your concern is pointless, really! I’m fine, I don’t know what came over me, but I’m fine now.” Jefferson jerks his head back in an attempt to leave, but the wall blocks his escape.
Hamilton seems to ignore Jefferson’s pleas of good health and presses his body harder against Jefferson, getting on the tips of his toes in order to attain a better view of the towering man. He’s not that bad looking for a ginger, Hamilton thinks while studying Jefferson’s face. He quickly sweeps his eyes down Jefferson’s body. Hamilton smirks a little and grasps Jefferson’s waist. “What are you thinking about, Jeffy?” Hamilton purrs.
Jefferson blushes. “Don’t call me that!”
“Well, what do you want me to call you? Jeff, perhaps? How about Tommy Boy?”
“I prefer my given name, not some stupid nickname that you deem fit to bestow upon me. Now let go of me!”
“Thomas, then,” Hamilton says audaciously. “You know, I love how it rolls off the tongue. Thomas. Thomas. It’s really… a titillating name- if I do say so myself. And you, of course, may call me Alexander.”
“Hamil- Alexander,” Jefferson glances around nervously, “I…I’m not sure what you are getting at, but you need to stop this instant!”
“Thomas, I think there is only one solution to end our bickering,” Hamilton says, his eyes holding a wicked gleam.
“For you to admit that you are horribly wrong in every idea you ever came up with?” Jefferson retorts, sounding hollow, realizing the fight was over and he had lost to the man before him.
Hamilton strokes Jefferson’s side and opens his mouth to speak when the door to the room opens. Hamilton jumps away from Jefferson while Jefferson tries to adjust his now wrinkled clothes.
“Have you two finally ceased arguing?” Washington asks with a knowing look, standing in the doorway with the fellow cabinet members gawking behind him.
“Why yes, I believe we have,” reports Hamilton. “We were just making arrangements to meet each other tomorrow after dinner to hash things out.”
Jefferson looks around nervously and can barely keep his blush down from the idea that President Washington almost found him with Hamilton in such a compromising position. “Yes… Alexander and I shall meet later on to work out our… disagreements.”
With his back to Washington, Hamilton gives Jefferson a searching look and smiles. It appears to Hamilton that he and Jefferson were indeed going to pick up from where they left off, but hopefully in a more suitable, private place tomorrow.
“You’re looking exceptionally well this evening, Thomas,” Hamilton says, greeting a fidgeting Jefferson at the door. Jefferson clears his throat as he is lead through the front door into Hamilton’s estate. Jefferson attempts to remove his overcoat when suddenly Hamilton’s fingers lay softly on Jefferson’s shoulders, tightly pulling the heavy garment off. “Allow me,” he whispers, gently placing the garment on its rack.
“I’m not sure if I’m ready for this…” chirps Jefferson.
“We don’t have to rush, if you’re unsure,” Hamilton assures him.
“How about we start with a drink?” Jefferson asks in a desperate attempt to calm his nerves.
“Care for a glass of whiskey?” Hamilton strides towards his sitting room, stocked with the alcohol of politicians.
“I’m more of a wine type of guy, a good Chardonnay would be lovely if you have some,” responds Jefferson, ever the aristocrat.
Hamilton reaches for his last bottle of Chardonnay and two wine glasses, pouring slowly to pass the time.
“I think this is more of a straight from the bottle type of situation,” says Jefferson in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.
Hamilton’s lips part in a smile as he hands Jefferson a glass of the aged white wine. “Try this.”
Jefferson swirls the wine and smells it before taking a delicate sip. After a few seconds of letting it rest on his tongue, Jefferson takes a hearty swig of wine, almost completely emptying his glass.
“Am I making you that nervous?” Hamilton chuckles, refilling Jefferson’s glass.
“Not at all, this constitutes a normal weekend for me, Hammy.” A drunken red blush was starting to appear on Jefferson’s cheeks. Jefferson takes another gulp from his glass.
“You look so adorable when you blush like that, Jeffy,” Hamilton says, raising a hand to caress his cheek.
“Fuck you, I am not ‘adorable,'” Jefferson sneers, smacking Hamilton’s hand from his face. “I will let you know that the last person who called me that met an untimely end.”
“Oh, and who was that?” Hamilton asks with a hidden jealousy that bypassed Jefferson’s increasingly drunken state.
“Why that person, who used to live there… you know, a that place. It was a long time ago, so stop interrogating me! I’m not as inexperienced as you think I am,” Jefferson replies in an obvious lie.
“Well, I suppose you are just going to have to prove that to me, aren’t you?” Hamilton challenges, taking a sip of his wine.
Jefferson finishes his wine quickly and holds it out in the air, “Where is my refill? The bloody service in here is horrific.” Jefferson rambles, clearly intoxicated now.
“I should just let you finish the bottle,” Hamilton laughs, pouring another glass for the impatient, drunk Jefferson.
Jefferson polishes off the glass and proceeds to pass out on the carpet, spilling his wine everywhere. It probably didn’t help that Jefferson had forgoed dinner due to nerves.
Hamilton sighs. His guest bedrooms upstairs are empty, fortunately enough for Jefferson. In fact, the whole house is empty. Hamilton can only imagine what people would speculate, seeing the two of them alone together overnight. But for now, Hamilton puts down his glass and proceeds to carry Jefferson out of the lounge and into a private bedroom, heaving as he did.
“Hamilton…” Jefferson sighs sleepily, “you’re such a jackass…”
“I’m not the one who gulped down three glasses in ten minutes. You, Mr. Jefferson, hold that record,” Hamilton replies affectionately. Hamilton sets Jefferson down in his guest bed and takes off Jefferson’s shoes. He pulls the covers over Jefferson and stares down at his face. “You are an adorable drunk- and I do mean adorable.” Hamilton gently strokes Jefferson’s hair and leaves for his own bedroom to sleep, hoping for a better date with Jefferson sometime soon.
“Aughhhh, what the hell!” Jefferson screams, awakening with a start. “Why am I soaking wet?!”
“I tried to wake you up gently, but you wouldn’t get up,” Hamilton says with a smirk.
“So you decided to drench me in water? You’re insane!” Jefferson looks around and finally takes in his surroundings. “Where am I? I don’t recall what happened last night. Did we… did we… you know, do that?” Jefferson looks away nervously and bunches the sheets up around his chest.
“No, you passed out drunk and I had to carry you upstairs, but not before you insulted me repeatedly,” Hamilton replies with a fond smile. “It’s before dawn, I think you should leave now. I would hate for our reputations to be at stake.”
As Jefferson begins to put on his shoes, there is a knock on the door, “Who the hell is up this early in the morning?”
Jefferson’s face goes pale as he whispers, “Do you think it’s bad news? President Washington was complaining earlier at dinner that he was feeling under the weather.”
Hamilton laughs lightly, still a hint of worry in his expression, “I’m sure President Washington is fine, it’s probably a salesman with a lack of manners.”. Both men know that Hamilton is most definitely wrong, but choose to try and believe the latter rather than the alternative.
The host murmurs to him, “You should towel your face dry while I get the door. The powder room is down the hall.”
Hamilton walks out of the room and down the stairs, afraid to open the door. The person behind the door starts knocking again and Hamilton quickly pulls the door open, preparing for the worst.
“Hi! I’m your new neighbor, Jason Stone! It’s nice to meet you! I’ve heard that you are the Secretary of Treasury; I’ve always been interested in politics and history! I would love to pick your brain one of these days!” the man says, standing in the doorway with a smile and a bright sparkle in his eyes.
Hamilton contemplates just slamming the door in his face but realizes that he shouldn’t because… well, Hamilton couldn’t quite remember why. While Hamilton tries to recall why exactly he shouldn’t slam the door in this Jason person’s face, Jason Stone continues to babble on about obscure history facts and how they related to something or other. It is too early for Hamilton to really process anything of intellectual significance. “Why… are you knocking on my door at this time in the morning?” Hamilton finally asks with a drawn look.
“Oh, wow! It’s six in the morning, isn’t it? Sorry, I’m such a morning person! I get up before the sun on most days and I still manage to be excited and happy!” Hamilton just stares at him, dumbfounded, when he hears Jefferson making his way down the steps.
“I’m sorry Mr. Stone, but I have to go. Why don’t we speak at some other time, preferably after the sun has risen,” Hamilton says, slowly inching the door closed.
“Awwww, I thought we were having such a lovely chat! I shall see you at a more reasonable time, then!” Mr. Stone starts to walk away and Hamilton closes the door fully. He seems like a nice man, but it is far too early to talk about history.
“Who was that? Is President Washington okay?” Jefferson says, the worry palpable in his voice.
“Washington is fine, it was a man by the name of Jason Stone. He’s apparently my new neighbor.”
“What is he doing up and about, calling on his neighbors at this time?” Jefferson said with a bit of a scowl.
“I don’t know, but you really should get going, the sun is starting to rise.” Jefferson starts to move past Hamilton to get to the door, when Hamilton grabs his arm and pulls him close.
“Before you leave,” Hamilton whispers, dragging Jefferson into his arms. “I want to do something I’ve been waiting for all night.” Hamilton leans in and gives Jefferson chaste kiss on the mouth, then lightly pushes a stunned Jefferson, his should-be-rival, out the door.
Jefferson leans against the now shut door and stares out on the street, too dazed to move. After a few minutes tick by, he manages gather himself and walk off to his house, a small smile spreading across his face.
“It is of utmost importance-” Jefferson tunes out Adams and stares vapidly at his freakishly beak-like nose, all the while thinking about the kiss he shared with Hamilton. Jefferson can barely keep his head knowing that Hamilton is only a few feet from him yet unattainable at the moment.
“But if we don’t establish a national banking system, how are we supposed to pay for the war we just won- winning wasn’t free, you know.” Hamilton asks, his annoyance getting the better of him. In truth, all he had been thinking about was Jefferson, the drunken nap Jefferson had taken in the man’s bed, the kiss that would hopefully bring more… Getting involved in this economic debate was supposed to take Hamilton’s mind off things but it did little good to soothe the thoughts of Jefferson that plagued his brain.There goes Hamilton about his ridiculous ideas for our country again. He gets so passionate about those schemes of his. Jefferson quickly blushes when his thoughts turn to Hamilton’s passions used in a more creative way.
“What are your thoughts on this matter, Mr. Jefferson? You’ve been awfully quiet,” Washington asks. He knows Jefferson well- to not say a heated word when Hamilton is talking is unlike him.
“Yes, I agree with Beaky- I mean Adams! Banks are bad, they hurt the… no, they are unconstitutional and… menacing.” Jefferson looks around nervously for a savior but he is on his own. “I’m sorry, I have a minor headache. Can I please have a moment to collect my thoughts?”
Hamilton snickers, directing his gaze down at his desk to avoid arousing suspicion. Jefferson is all talk, of course he wouldn’t be able to hold his liquor; his hangover is obvious.
George Washington shoots Hamilton a glare. “And what may I ask do you find so funny, Mr. Hamilton?”
Hamilton looks up and composes himself. “It’s can assure you that it is nothing, Mr. Washington..”
“No, please enlighten me. You know I appreciate a good joke when there is one to be had,” Washington insists, refusing to give Hamilton a break. Jefferson shoots Hamilton a glare that tells him that he will not get off lightly if he tells the cabinet that he was laughing at him.
“Well, I just never imagined that Mr. Jefferson could possibly have a wild night that would result in such a hangover,” Hamilton chuckles, and the room is swept with whispered laughs as everyone entertains the idea of the hungover aristocrat. Jefferson glares directly at Hamilton. He will never live this down.
“I said I have a headache; I never brought up alcohol, nor a wild night. I have a high tolerance when it come to handling my liquor. I do not make a fool of myself in public when it comes to the drink, though one could make the opposite case with you. Remember last year’s Christmas party, Mr. Hamilton?” Jefferson’s words rang with clear menace.
Hamilton turns to Jefferson, aggravated and slightly amused at whatever game he was playing. “There is no sound reason to bring that up. It was a party and I had a fun time. I don’t suppose you’d know what that is.”
“Really? How could you be having fun, passed out under the tree as you were?” Jefferson smirks and the room starts to guffaw.
“Stop it right now, you two!” George Washington thunders over the sound of laughter. The noise quickly dies down as Jefferson and Hamilton realize they are in a war zone with George Washington about to gun them down.
“My apologies,” says Hamilton, ever the gentleman.
Washington just glares at him. “I thought that you two were going to work out your differences last night? I am deeply disappointed in you both.”
Jefferson stares at the floor and the meeting continues on as normal.
Hamilton’s mind keeps wandering during the meeting now that everything has settled down. With little to do, Hamilton decides to spend his time annoying Jefferson. Quickly tearing his parchment and pressing the pieces into little balls, he proceeds to hurl them repeatedly at Jefferson who was sitting diagonally in front of him.
Jefferson is finally getting into the swing of things when bits of paper start to pelt his cheek. Thinking about what a slimy bastard Hamilton is, Jefferson decides to not even dignify him with a response as the bits of paper keep on hitting him, but Jefferson is losing patience quickly.
Hamilton isn’t getting the rise out of Jefferson that he wants, but he does notice the angry color Jefferson’s neck was turning and the tenseness of his shoulders. Hamilton snickers to himself when he notices that Washington is staring at Jefferson with confusion.
“Yes, Mr. Washington?”
“Why are you covered in pieces of paper?”
“…I was attacked…”
Washington gives Jefferson an incredulous look before a scowl takes presence on his face. Washington turns to look at Hamilton.
Hamilton quickly realizes that if he doesn’t talk to Jefferson soon, he’s never going to be able to concentrate on the meeting- and he might as well hope to stall the stern talking to that George Washington is surely planning on giving him. “Gentleman, I believe we have presented our arguments. Perhaps we should take a break for now to fully process everything?” Hamilton proposes to the council.
Washington sighs and calls for a recess with the hope of fewer distractions after a brief break. Hamilton stands up, barely able to wait for a chance to talk to Jefferson, but said man is already out of the door. Jefferson heads back to his office in the hopes of gaining a clear mind, for Hamilton has infected his mind like the sexy parasite that he is. “There is only one way to resolve this,” Jefferson mumbles to himself as he enters the office and closes the door. With the knowledge that Hamilton was surely going to follow him to try and get under his skin, Jefferson starts to formulate a plan.
Hamilton follows Jefferson at a slow place, confident that Jefferson had every intention of going to his office. Hamilton has finally decided that he can’t wait anymore and shall do the deed with Jefferson before the start of the meeting. This isn’t quite the long romantic night that Hamilton had been planning for, but in this moment he doesn’t care- he just can’t wait anymore. As Jefferson enters his own office, Hamilton waits a few minutes before going in, in hope of letting Jefferson have time to relax before Hamilton springs himself unto his dear Jeffy.
As soon as Hamilton opens the door, Jefferson pounces, slamming the door shut roughly with a surprised Hamilton now inside. Jefferson attacks Hamilton’s mouth with a fierceness that surprises Hamilton, who never imagined Jefferson would be instigator of anything in their relationship. Hamilton, not one to give up the upper hand, quickly flips their positions, pinning Jefferson’s arms above his head to the door. Minutes later they part to catch their breath and pant for air, heads resting against each other. With a smirk, Hamilton coyly purrs, “I think it’s finally time that I show you the benefits of a big, strong central government.”
Jefferson chuckles, not afraid or embarrassed anymore, just excited. “And I think it is time for me to show you the benefit of a state dominant government,” Jefferson says with a raised eyebrows as he undoes Hamilton’s ponytail, running his fingers through the silky brunette hair. Hamilton smirks at this new side of Jefferson and starts to hastily unbutton Jefferson’s shirt.
“I guess we’ll just have to see whose plans are better; you wouldn’t want to be cheated out of a greater nation, now would you?”
Washington has had it with Jefferson and Hamilton. Not only do they disrupt his important cabinet meeting, but now they are ten minutes late to the renewed session. “They better have a pretty damn good excuse,” Washington hisses as he rounds the corner of the hallway leading to Jefferson’s office.
President Washington walks straight up the door and opens it, too mad to knock as the proper gentleman typically would. “What do you think-” Washington stops at the site before him. There sit Jefferson and Hamilton locked together on Jefferson’s desk, the desk top cleared of its previous inhabitants, who seem to of found a new home scattered about on the floor. Hamilton and Jefferson are in a rather precarious state of undress and are too preoccupied to notice their new guest. Groans can be heard from both parties and Washington pales before slowly backing out of the room, quietly closing the door.
Washington, in a state of shock, walks down the hallway and back to the meeting, telling the other members that Hamilton and Jefferson are occupied with an important engagement. After a while, the shock starts to drift away and Washington starts to come to terms with what he just saw. At least they aren’t likely to take out their frustrations during the council’s time anymore, President Washington thinks, chuckling to himself.
Requested by anonymous The reader has electricity powers and is Tony’s Daughter
“Tired yet?” Pietro asked, standing over your panting body. The two of you had been practicing together and he had just knocked you down.
“No powers, Speedy,” you said as you grabbed his hand to help you up.
“I didn’t. And you used your powers anyways,” he retorted, walking back to his punching bag. You felt yourself stare at his butt as he walked away.
“I did not use my powers on you. If I had your ass would of been fried.”
“That would of been a shame, too. What would you stare at all day?” Pietro teased.
“Shut up, Maximoff.”
“I’m still angry at you for using your powers.”
“I didn’t use my powers,” you sing-songed.
“Well then how was it that I was nearly knocked off my feet every time?”
“Because, I am better than you?” you asked as you jutted out your hip and placed a hand on it, taking a drink from your water bottle.
“Oh that’s right,” Pietro said, completely ignoring you. “It’s because you’re just so gorgeous, that it distracts me,” he said with a devilish grin.
“Shut up,” you said, pushing his arm and fighting off you’re blush.
“So you going to the party tonight?”
“Obviously, my father’s throwing it. I’ll have to schmooze with everyone,” you said with a roll of your eyes.
“What if I said I could get you out of that?”
“I’d do anything,” you said.
“Anything?” Pietro asked with that crooked grin of his when he was thinking mischievously.
“Mostly anything,” you said, inches from his face.
“Alright. I will keep you away from all of the undesirable company if you take a drink every time I do.”
“Deal,” you said immediately.
“Really?” Pietro asked surprised.
“Hell yeah. I don’t have to talk to creeps, and I can get crazy drunk. Thanks, Sonic,” you said, giving his arm a playful squeeze.
“Feeling my muscles again?” Pietro asked, flexing.
“Oh you know it. I just love your arms,” you said sarcastically.
“So make sure you where something hot at the party.”
“Don’t I always,” you called back.
You slipped on your blue dress and fluffed your hair a little bit. You heard the door open and saw Natasha standing there.
“Who are you looking good for?” she asked with a knowing smirk.
“Myself,” you said, making a blatantly confused face.
“So it’s not for a certain speedster that runs around the tower?
“Could of fooled me. From the way you two constantly flirt with each other I was convinced you were banging.”
“Oh come on. He totally loves you. I can’t believe you don’t see it.”
“Don’t see what?”
“Dad! Nothing. Just Nat talking about - nothing. It’s nothing,” you lied.
“You look beautiful, Y/N. But don’t you think it’s a little short?”
“I think it looks perfect.”
“Maximoff, what are you doing in my daughter’s room?”
“Yes, Pietro, what are you doing?” Nat asked with a smirk. You shot her a look which she giggled off.
“I came to walk her,” he said, looking at you.
“Right. We should probably get going,” you said as you walked out the door, and took Pietro’s arm.
“You do look perfect tonight. Not as much as I do, but like a close second.”
“Shit,” you said, grabbing his arm tighter and leading him away.
“It’s one of those business guys that my dad makes me talk to that usually end up spilling a drink on me.”
“Don’t worry. That’s what I’m here for,” he said, leading you back.
“Y/N Stark,” the man said. “And who is this?” he asked, motioning to Pietro. You were about to answer, but Pietro interrupted.
“I’m her boyfriend.” You were so shocked you broke the wine glass in your hand. “Well, let’s get you a new drink, alright, boo?” Pietro cooed.
“What the hell was that?” you asked when you reached the bar.
“I was getting you away like I promised. Now drink up,” he said, handing you a shot.
“You’re brilliant, you know?” you said, drinking up.
“I do,” he said, taking a shot of his on.
Five drinks later, you were feeling a lot better, and were leaning against Pietro a lot, making the boyfriend lie all the more believable.
“Y/N, I need to tell you something,” Pietro mumbed.
“I love you,” he slurred.
“What?” you asked again, feeling suddenly a lot more sober.
“I love you,” he said again, leaning against the bar to get another drink.
“Oh, I think you’re all set for tonight,” you said, as you threw his arm around you.
“Where are we going?” he asked, his accent becoming stronger.
“To your room.”
“Already?” he asked impressed.
“Not like that. You need to rest. You’ve had too much to drink.”
“I do love you though,” he mumbled when you tossed him on his bed. “And don’t say what again. You heard me.”
“You’re drunk, Piet. Go to sleep.”
“Do you love me?”
“Don’t worry. You could tell me, I probably won’t remember tomorrow.” You sighed and began to leave but turned around and tiptoed back to his bed.
“I love you, Pietro,” you whispered.
“I knew it,” he mumbled before he fell asleep.
The next day, the both of you had training again. When you awoke, you instantly regretted telling Pietro about your feelings. You hoped he forgot.
“Hey,” he grumbled when you walked into the practice room.
“I feel like shit,” you said, rubbing your head.
“So do I. But let’s get started before Steve yells at us.”
“Okay.” You thought Pietro had forgotten, or maybe didn’t hear you at all, because he hadn’t said anything and he wasn’t looking at you weird. You were distracted by your thoughts, and Pietro knocked you to the ground again.
“Tired yet?” He asked, hovering over you.
“Would a kiss make you feel better?”
“What?” you asked, standing up.
“I do remember what happened last night, Stark.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody about your little crush on me. As long as you kiss me back.” He was now inches from you and looked up at your eyes You leaned closer and Pietro closed the gap fully. When you pulled away Pietro looked breathless. You took this advantage and kicked his feet out from under him. He felt the the floor with a groan.
ask me once, ask me twice (i'll say yes if you're nice)
Length: 1683 Rating: PG13 (rating for language, it’s honestly more PG) Warnings: unbeta’d, it’s a bit shit, established Quintis Notes: I reblogged the “Imagine your OTP proposing repeatedly at different restaurants to get free food.” thing. Then I mashed my meat grabbers on the keyboard and this happened. AO3 link. Happy Valentine’s Day.
He is down on bended knee, she is gasping in surprise and pleasure. He asks, with all the trepidation one might expect from a man in such a situation, marry me? She accepts, with a voice that trembles, yes, yes I will, and the other diners in the room break out in applause. Congratulations, the cries call out, and they are assured by their host that their meal is complimentary. They protest, because no, we really ought to, but their host insists.
Once outside, Happy turns to look up at Toby, who still has his arm wrapped possessively around her shoulders. “You were right.”
Toby returns her smirk with a smug grin, kisses her lightly on her forehead. “Of course I’m right,” he says. “I’m always right. Restaurant like that? Eighty per cent chance of comping a newly engaged couple’s meal for publicity purposes.”
Happy snorts, slipping the ring - a cheap thing they’d picked up downtown - off her finger. “You gonna tell me you know the likelihood of all the restaurants in LA for that kinda stunt?”
“You wanna find out?” It’s a challenge. It’s a dare. And Happy has never been one to back down from either.
I write this essay this time with my heart full of gratitude because it is for my beloved family in our company and my beloved fans, who have always supported me and have allowed me to spend such blessed times as Choikang Changmin, a member of TVXQ… To everyone around me and my friends, I am sorry. (heart) Having said that, it seems I cannot even include every family member in our company… but I love you! I love all of you!! I am sorry! I really love you all… please understandㅋㅋㅋ //@// Firstly to the family I have always loved: Father, Mother, Sisters… and even Mangdoongie, who’s like a little rascal… I love you all. ^^ To our teacher Lee Soo-Man whom I truly respect.. To us, your existence is like the the shining polaris in the dark night sky. Though this sounds quite mushy, it is a fact: I respect you from the bottom of my heart… Although you are the ship captain in the constant storms, I always learn a lot from you when I see you embracing all the family members in our company with love, security and warmth, and even now, moving briskly on towards a better tomorrow. Please stay healthy!! ^^ The person whose crudeness I complain about every day even though I know that you are a very warm person – our president Kim Youngmin! I love you (heart). To director Han Seomin who has remembered everything about me from the signing of the first contract till now. Though it has become harder to meet you now that you have to take care of a bigger family, I am always, always grateful to you, director Jung Changhwan^^ To director Nam Soyoung who has always been seated at a position several metres higher than me(ㅋ), the one whom I would continue to follow without a word; and her other half, Dokyung hyungnim, the handsome middle-aged man ^^ The one to learn so much from; the one who has been leading, refining, and helping the both of us even till now like our mentor – director Yoo Youngjin… I respect you indeed!!^^ The management head! Our captain Youngjunnie hyungnim whom I like a lot! My love Cho Kyu, whom I’ll have wine with~ Soon!!ㅋ And the one who has recently had a beautiful daughter and had been promoted as the team leader – Jooyoungie hyungnim, whom I love and treasure a lot! To hot body hot guy Won Kyongjae hyung, who has a body of a space monster from head to toe. To the one who speaks very much like a robot but is not that cynical on the inside – though neither is he that enthusiastic really – Iron Man Mark 6 Jaeyongie hyung! To the adorable Buseong hyung who has joined us not long ago~ let’s be closer~! To the one who claims to have been receiving good songs everyday, and praises me a lot every time we meet; the one who kept on saying sweet words to the extent that I thought he might be a crook – our department head Lee Sungsoo hyung^^ Our Gold(en) Miss Yoo Jaeni noona who got promoted~ Hurry up and meet a good guy soon!! To the coordi whom I really like personally even though you have only worked with us from this album on – our Tom!! Seonhoo hyung! I hope to go on till the end together with you, hyung!!ㅋ To our composer and lyricist hyungs and noonas who have come up with great songs and great lyrics – Hanjinnie hyung, Kenzie noona, Jinu hyung, Bumin noona, Hyunnie hyung, Taesungie hyung, Gwangwookie hyung, Andrew hyung, JQ hyung, Jinhwannie hyung, Jisangie hyung, Kim Jeongbae nim, Park Jiho nim, Baek Suncheol nim, Seo Jieum nim, Jang Yeonjeong nim, Shin Agnes nim, Jeon Gandi nim, as well as our chauffeurs Nam Gongjin nim, Lee Sungho nim, Jongpil Brother, Euiseok Brother, chauffeurs Kim Chulsun nim, Lee Minkyu nim… always… I’m always so thankful (to you all) for polishing, refining and transforming our voices into hearable music!!!^__^ It’s thanks to team leader Sonyoung nim’s hard work this time that such a cool music video could be created. Of course, it wasn’t the team leader’s work alone, but I would like to convey my gratitude (to him) on behalf of everyone who has put in all the hard work. Also, many thanks to director Hong Wongi and everybody in the Johnny Bros family for working so hard during the 3 days it took to create such an impressive music video. The media PR team’s Eunah noona, Sanghee noona, and the rest of the noonas^^; Artiste monitoring team’s Yoonju noona and the rest^^; CRM team’s Hyeyoung noona, Hyosil noona, who have always been working very hard ^___^b And to Shim Jaewon who always makes me do impossible things with my body… You’d better watch out… If you keep doing that I’m going to shoot you… in the head (lit. “with a headshot”)…ㅋㅋ Love, love, my love Hwang Sanghoon ung-ah*!! I love you… I love you!!! I want to follow you but I seem to be lacking a lot… Please… Please take me in as your pupil… Rulers of the stage^^ Professor Jinseokie hyung, wild black horse Haechangie hyung, Hyunseungie hyung who is now a father^^; our Brother Jack Wonhee hyung, our Hyungjunnie hyung who has worked really hard, Bae Guyoung hyung who has no soccer talent, Hyojae hyung who has always tried to teach him somehow, (and) Taewoo who has had a hard time between the two of them^^ Subin-ah I miss you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Come back quickly!!!!! Just because you’d be busy if you come back, don’t ignore the place we’ve left for you, you buster!!! ㅋ To London Pride and Jenny House family who have always tried their best despite being under lots of stress, and worked so hard in preparation for our activities this time, thank you.
The ones I really feel grateful to are every one of our 'Cassiopeia’ fans. Honestly, in these 10 years of activities, I’m also only human… So it’s not all the time that I always feel happy… I’d also feel that it’s tough, be exhausted, get angry, get tired out, and will feel like taking a break… I would have these thoughts… As for when those things happened, I can no longer accurately remember… But there was once when it was tough like that, I still had to go up on stage to perform~ Honestly, it wasn’t even a particularly big, or glamorous stage… I went on stage feeling like I was having it tough, and I thought to myself inside- to do it as per usual. I just have to do what I have to do diligently, and after that I’d be able to go down and rest… Even now, I’m not clear as to why I was like that then.. But that day, when I stepped on stage and saw all of then fans holding their red light sticks and heard the sound of cheering for us, For a moment, I felt it was surreal. Because I felt a certain kind of warmth… I, who had originally felt that it was so difficult and tiring, my heart was melting like snow, unknowingly, it had also melted open… These words might seem too much like meaningless lies to some… Or maybe many people might also feel that these words are merely sweet nothings for the fans… But what I felt at that moment… was the truest of my heart…^^ Time has yet again passed a little more, and from a certain point, I realised that we’ve become considerably established senior singers, I was quite shocked at that… At a certain moment, it suddenly became clear that I am a person who has received so much love and support all my life, and am living a life so full of these blessings~ In the past, I was too embarrassed to convey my gratitude to the fans, so I couldn’t express it properly… When I look back at myself then, I now feel a little regretful… When I think about it… what I’ve received is something that I’ll never be able to repay no matter how hard I work, even for the rest of my life, this much love… That’s me^^ At least in my personal opinion, but there is no way to measure the depth of love. And no matter how you put it, the great love that all of you have given me… Regardless of whether it’s just me… or both me and Yunho hyung… We’ll never be able to repay your love no matter how hard we work! Nevertheless, we’ll still work the hardest to give it back, from now on we’ll put in even more effort! Be even happier! And show a more blessed side to everyone in our activities…^^ Thank you all for always being by our side… I love you (heart)
Changmin’s Message to Yunho
When we release this album, TVXQ would also have become 10 years’ singers^^ Time has really passed so quickly… From when we started out 10 years ago, we have been through so much difficulty, it seems that we were only able to walk on till now due to all the support, care and love from our fans who have stayed by our side all the way^^ This number '10’, how should I put it… Actually, it’s only a number… Everyone’s heart and mind is different, whether it can make one excited… is really fascinating…
To our Yunho hyung who has been with me for 11 years Even though hyung is also only a human who cannot be perfect all the time! (Of course, I’m a completely messed up kid tooㅋㅋ) But I’m very thankful for having a hyung like that by side up to now I’d like to thank you hyung, once again from the bottom of my heart^^ I hope that in the future, as we go on quarreling and at the same time working hard at moving on handsomely, let’s have a disgustingly(?) good time wallking on forever!! Hyung, thank you~ d^___^b
translated by @kikiikyu I’d appreciate it if this was shared with credits, thanks^^
“Who are you talking to?” “Do you know who’s party this is?” “They might be whores. Or at least whore-ish” “Why’d you come out tonight?” “I have a dude.” “Am I not like, mature enough for you?” “Oh i know what platonically means; I’m a junior not moron.” “What are you—what are you doing to me?” “I had to get out of there, okay? I couldn’t exactly stand watching the girl I’m in love with flirt with the best looking guy ever.” “Oh my god, I’m literally too embarrassing to even live.” “All she wants to feel is a little less freaked out than she already does.” “I’m never going to be her dude, am I?” “Do you wanna dance with me?” “Man way to build up my confidence, which was lacking – it was lacking and you, you even pointed it out.” “It’s like really guys, really, you’re gonna just make out in the middle of the freaking mall in front of everyone?” “Would you deal with it?” “Your balls are vibrating.” “Ah, it’s just..the cops are here.” “Wow, so you’re like, Smarty Pants Mcgee.” “Are you happy?” “You kids are adorable.” “Were you asking me for my number?” “I’m not gonna doink you or anything.” “Well, I wanna have some wine.” “I just like the idea of it.” “I’ve never been more content than when I’m just by myself, doing my thing.” “Have you had sex yet?” “No, lie to me.” “I fantasize about holding her hand, kissing in the rain, all the cheesy romantic stuff you’re such a fan of.” “Virgin and the skank. Tale as old as time.” “Everything cool’s been ruined.” “I wanna meet a man the old fashioned way.” “I’ve never met anyone like you before.” “Maybe we could lie here for a minute, and I can just close my eyes? See what it’s like?” “I accidentally spilled wine on her/his carpet.” “This girl/guy sounds like an enormous ass-ache my friend, like a huge ache in my ass.” “What did I say?” “Let’s give her/him the illusion that you have a life.” “Don’t look now, lamb chop, this shit just got real.” “I wanted us to have one of our famous late night talks.” “Alright, we’re going to see how the world ends.” “That was nuts and dangerous!” “I wanna travel.” “Confidence is sexy.” “I know, that’s what my mom keeps telling me.” “You dig me.” “You never have to apologize to me.” “I don’t know why I’m…shit.” “You’re ridiculous.” “Deal with it.” “God, I am so sick of these arrogant jag weeds! They’re big, stupid mouths and they’re tiny little penises.” “I’m going to kill it, bitch! I’m going to kill the livin’ shit of you! The livin’ shit, my friend!” “There’s so much stuff I wanna see.” “I was just listening to you…and I wanna go with you.” “No, ______ amazing. He/She’s one of my best friends.” “It’s just that most guys our age are really self-absorbed, you know.” “I think whoever said you should always be yourself obviously never met _____.” “Well, I don’t care about that kind of stuff any more. I am over boys. They all suck. Especially the hotties.” “Don’t you want to talk?” “Do you like… like him/her?” “Oh, wow, he is gorgeous.” “Well, I’m a little tipsy. Yes, I am.” “Now it’s gone. Poof.” “She/He’s pretty great. Pretty pretty great.” “I’m actually writing a song about him/her…well his/her knees.” “We’re gonna have sex tonight.” “That sounds unforgettable. Pretty…pretty unforgettable.” “It’s not some beautiful thing.” “I think it’s finding the right persona and it sure as shit is not that guy.” “I’m on a first name bases with my dermatologist.” “So what, you’re like this confident, cocky guy/girl now? You’re that guy/girl?” “Yeah, good—wait what?” “Do you know what homogenized means?” “It’s a kind of milk, isn’t it?” “Oh god, what was that suppose to be cute?” “I’ve never heard anyone say that.” “I didn’t do it for you.” “Well I guess then we’re just gonna have to drive around all night.” “I think I’m going to be sick.” “Sometimes everything seems really…harsh.” “I don’t know if I’m going to be strong enough to be on my own.” “In a second, don’t rush me.” “We’ll make it work.” “She/He’s like obsessed with roller coasters.” “I don’t want her/him to worry that I’m not going to come back.” “Benefits are cool.” “I’m not opposed to flowers. I like flowers they’re pretty.” “I dig you so much.” “Could’ve gone pro if I hadn’t blown out my knee.” “I’m thinking that this…this might be the best weekend of my life.” “We should take things slow.” “…Fuck it.” “It means you didn’t think we were going to have sex tonight, which is way cool.” “Holy shit.” “Do you wanna get under the covers?” “Don’t wig out, don’t wig out.” “At least the condom didn’t break.” “I think it could be better.” “It’s nobodies fault.” “Test results? I don’t have test results, I’m a virgin!” “I guess I’ll do just about anything to put off my calculus homework.” “I’m sorry it happened.” “Sex is so much better before you had it.” “I wish I could just go back tot he beginning.” “The beginning? You mean Friday?” “Would you like me to take a look at your penis?” “The best thing to do is just let it go.” “You’re a man. Now act like it.” “I feel like I don’t even know who I am anymore.” “I met a boy. A really good one. And I think I drove him away.” “I want you to remember every detail of what just happened. Because it is never going to happen again.” “I don’t know much about relationships. I definitely don’t know anything about love.” “All I want in the world is to just keep talking to you.” “So I’m late what are they going to do, right?” “None of my theories are wrong by the way.” “I would also like to work on the sex thing.” “Screw it.”
It’s in some godforsaken corner of Bavaria, a tiny village huddled underneath the shadow of what, of course, was a predictably imposing castle. Even mostly out of his mind with fever, Steve appreciates the thought that went into the design of the castle, which still retained all the ancient fortifications that it would have needed in the Middle Ages.
Steve Rogers hasn’t felt this sick since he was given the serum. It was some kind of new HYDRA weapon that had been aimed at Bucky. Steve had taken the hit instead, trusting that the shield would absorb most of the force. But apparently, this particular weapon wasn’t meant to blast a man down to component molecules, the way they’d seen other HYDRA weapons do.
What might have killed Bucky made Steve sick instead - sick the way he hadn’t been since the serum, sick in the way he’d been when he’d been 110 pounds soaking wet (and no, Bucky, I wasn’t ninety - give me some credit for the additional weight, huh?), asthmatic and pretty much, as Bucky put it, the dreamboat for every germ out there. And since their life in general since this war began was a SNAFU, the radio was out, therefore, no way to call Peggy to get their ride home.
But Steve was the only real casualty as far as this mission went. Everyone else was on their feet, loaded up with enough ammo and supplies to see them through a march back to friendly territory or at least until Morita got the radio fixed. And Bucky was okay.
That was all that mattered.
And the rest of the situation was that it was winter and the weather was getting worse and none of them wanted to end up being popsicles, so shelter and a chance for Steve to recover and for Morita to repair the radio was the priority. With Bucky or Dum Dum alternating in helping Steve to walk - Bucky had given Steve his trademark Glare of Death when the latter tried to attempt walking on his own, not wanting to be a burden on the team - it was Bucky who temporarily took command.
The first tell was that Kaldenstein was completely empty.
FIC SUMMARY: Marie is always being forced by her mother to approach men for a possibility of a date. It just so happens…mothers are all alike in someway.
AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: Okay, I was going to write another chapter for tall, dark, and handsome but I got a message from one of my followers who needed some fluff because it seemed like she going through a rough patch. I stared at my computer screen and got this idea so hopefully, it’ll be up to her standards and yours! I would love to hear what you think!
If you’re interested, I’ve continued this drabble. Part One can be found here.
Peeta walked into the apartment later that afternoon and was surprised to find his roommate in the kitchen, bent in front of their open refrigerator.
“I have to say, Katniss,” he told her. “You and a fridge full of food—my two favorite things in the world.”
“Oh, please.” Her voice echoed from the depths of the fridge. “I know you’re just dying to know if I’m wearing any underwear—“ Peeta leaned down to peer beneath the fitted skirt of her charcoal dress. “—I’m not by the way.”
Please. Can you write one were Henry ask Killian if he can call him Dad... of course he said yes, Ans Emma is listening all the conversation maybe with her and Killian baby girl??? Thank you.
title: because we deserve it.
part II of this fic. t’was supposed to be like 100. it ended up being 2,000. oops. also not exactly what you asked for. but. here.
“Isn’t Friday’s our Granny’s steak nights?” is Henry’s first words when he walks through the door and sees Emma and Killian setting up the dining table.
Killian shoots a furtive glance at her before turning to grin at Henry.
“Hello to you too, kid,” she says with a roll of her eyes. He’s growing up to be quite the sass-master, no doubt taking lessons from his stepfather.
“We’re still having steak, lad, just at home.”
“It’s a bit crowded there, and we wanted some peace and quiet with you,” Emma explains as she distributes portions of salad onto three plates.
Henry glances between them, before shrugging in the universal way that signifies whatever and joins them at the table.
Killian plates the well-done steak for her and the medium-rare for Henry, and Emma takes a moment to appreciate the simple domesticity of it all – the fact that Killian knows their preferences (she likes hers with mint sauce while Henry is more of a Worchester kind of guy) fills her with a sense of contentment.
“Can I have chocolate milk?” Henry asks, though she thinks he does it as a matter of formality rather than genuine concern for her opinion because he’s already at the fridge door.
“Sure,” she says, because she has memories of him as a young child demanding chocolate milk with his dinner (and it’s been a whole year since New York but sometimes she still has a little real/not real game playing in her head) and it’s not worth denying.
“I’ll have some too, if you don’t mind,” Killian says, nudging Henry with his shoulder as he throws the take-out packets away.
Emma shakes her head fondly at her husband (it’s still a bit of a thrill to think she’s married, actually married), who is grinning winningly at her like the five year old that he is.
“Captain Hook drinks chocolate milk with dinner? How come they never mentioned this in the movies?”
Killian shoots Henry a glare at the mention of his waxed-moustache, perm-haired counterpart, (it’s a bit of a sore spot, much to everyone’s delight) and says, “Because they couldn’t get a bloody thing right about me.”
“Except the hook,” Henry reminds him, brown eyes twinkling with mirth.
“Which is on the bugger’s wrong hand,” Killian shoots back easily.