like he has a mic on his left hand but he does it very easily with only his right one

something brewing: part ii

I’ve decided to write shorter chapters for this one going forward, in the hope of more frequent updates. With this in mind, this chapter is from Marcus’ point of view. There’s also part i and the original fic concept as a prelude, for anyone coming in new.

Premise: Oliver is a sports science student who has to maintain his grades in order to retain his scholarship and has a good chance of playing football professionally. Despite that, he’s serious about wanting to do well. His flatmates spend more time drunk than they do sober, so he’s given up trying to work at home and finds a little coffee shop to study in. What he doesn’t expect is to develop a painful, near-instantaneous, utterly inconvenient crush on one of the baristas.

In this chapter: Marcus discovers that weak at the knees isn’t just a figure of speech when it comes to Oliver Wood wearing his football kit.

i: marcus.

It was the last Thursday in November, and that meant the one night of the month that Marcus didn’t particularly enjoy taking the late shift: open mic night. It wasn’t that he had any objection to people expressing themselves creatively, no, but it meant that his usual background noise of choice wasn’t available and his concentration levels for studying in between serving were below zero. It was the one night of the month that made his class the next afternoon more difficult than he wanted it to be. Though in every other respect, change and taking risks were things that he actively enjoyed, sought out even, when it came to working at the coffee shop, he liked routine. He hid his scowl behind the coffee machine and didn’t speak to anyone much, and that usually got him through it when he was obliged to work it. Susan, understanding why, left him be for the most part, and he doesn’t know what he did to deserve a co-worker and friend as understanding as her, but he was grateful nonetheless. The gratitude communicated itself in frequently tucking away her favourite pastries of choice when they were running low and making sure she had first choice when new stock came in of which blend to try.

“I guess tall, dark and handsome isn’t coming in tonight either,” Susan commented from her place at the counter, leaning on her elbows and not bothering to hide her wince at the theatre major currently making their foray into bad experimental poetry. “Did you warn him in advance or something?”

Keep reading

NERD HQ - smut.

Author: mystic-biscuit
Rating: 18+ NSFW
Words: 3948, give er take.
Pairing: Dylan x Reader


Kay, So this fic was a group effort. @completedylantrash and @dumbass-stilinski gave me a bunch of ideas to incorporate into this. I’m pretty sure @thelittlestkitsune threw a couple ideas out there too. I have also had a similar dream to this, so I had to bring it to life. LOOK AT HIM IN THESE GIFs. Also, thanks to @completedylantrash for the GIFs. 

For the sake of this fic Dylan Sprayberry is 21.

Keep reading

Our Song (Chapter 2)

Tokyo Ghoul Idol AU

Summary: Hinami is a normal college student leading a normal, happy life. Ayato is an idol drowning in fame and fortune who suffers from sleepless nights and unforgettable nightmares. They meet through a variety show that gives Hinami the chance to sing with him. Initially bitter that she wasn’t given the chance to sing with her bias, Kaneki, Hinami starts to warm up to Ayato and sees the real person beyond the sexy bad boy he appears to be onstage. (Relationships: Ayahina + Kirishima family)

A/N: Chapter 2 is out! I love Ayato, guys. This chapter is in Ayato’s perspective. Please do reblog this if you enjoyed it!

Index: Masterpost | Information sheet | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 2: Wow

Ayato’s amazed by the girl before him, who sings his song with the emotions he himself dreams of expressing. He can’t get her out of his mind. Will he be able to keep it together when he’s alone with her? I mean, come on, this is Ayato we’re talking about. (3.4k words) 

Keep reading

The following is a little one-shot I wrote for @amalasdraws Hip Hop AU, based on Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s very first meeting! I highly recommend reading her comics - they’re wonderful! Click here if you’d like to read this on AO3.

Oikawa sighs, running his hands through his hair.

He’s exhausted - when was the last time he slept again? Has it just been a day? Maybe two?

He’s been working his ass off lately. Every spare moment has been dedicated to working on his newest mix. He’s adjusted each and every component of it; he’s a meticulous DJ, after all. He wants it to be perfect but there’s just something that he still isn’t satisfied with.

His laptop has pretty much become an extension of his body at this point and he’s ready to take a step away.

It’s not like he’s under pressure to finish it or anything - he has another week before his next gig - but Oikawa pushes himself. As always, he wants to do better because he knows that he can.

Keep reading

Echoes of Silence

                                  He could never understand the thrill behind what she does, he can somewhat understand the reasoning, but never the thrill of it. He would ask questions, lots of questions, which aggravated her to no end. 

“Why are you so curious? I haven’t known you long kid, but I sure hope the questions stop.” She addressed. 

“What makes you think I’ll stick around long enough for you to find out?” He spoke so smoothly, and had it been any other girl, said girl would’ve been weak in the knees, but this one, the one that currently stood across from him, she laughed. She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow before bursting into hysterics of laughter. 

“You’re so adorable, kiddo.” She mused, muttered laughter still escaping her full french lips. 

As she continued to stuff stolen money into the humongous duffel bag, he watched her in suspense and fear, and maybe, just a teeny tiny bit of admiration and envy. He’s too prideful to admit that he’s scared of this older woman, he doesn’t think she would harm him or anything, he’s just intimated by her demeanor, she is a criminal, after all. 

“I wanna be like you,” he admitted, quietly. Her head snapped up and her brown eyes locked with his, and suddenly, he saw something that he would never forget, he saw a look that would taunt him at night, he saw the look his mother gave him when he told her he would drop out of school to pursue his dreams—she had slapped him that day, his mom, then she cried, and then she yelled, but he still left—he saw disappointment. 

“Don’t you ever say that!” She hissed. “Never, ever say that,” she grabbed a chunk of her hair for a moment before letting it go again, a habit of hers that she does when frustrated, he had noticed. “Oh Abel, Abel, Abel, Abel,” she sighed, going to the other side of the bed where he stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets, she grabbed one of his hands and sat him down, placing her head between the crook of his neck, “you don’t wanna be like me, Abel, I’m not a good person." 

"That’s not true, you’re nice,” he argued, trying to make her feel better, “you’re really nice." 

"Being nice doesn’t make you a good person, kid.” She muttered. Her hand still in his, she asked, “why are you out here anyway? Aren’t a little too young to be roaming the city, shouldn’t you be in school? And where’s your family?”

“Who’s asking so many questions now?” He smirked, teasing her. “I dropped out of school,” he answered after a few moments of silence, “it wasn’t for me, I didn’t fit in and I wasn’t happy, so I dropped out with my best friend, I want to make music and he wants to shoot videos, so, here we are.” He shrugged, innocently.  

“And how’s that going for you so far?” She had asked because she wanted to help him, lead him down the right path again. He gave her a reluctant look, not sure if he wants to confide in a criminal who had just stolen from a bank a few hours ago and is on the run. “Do you remember how we met, Abel?" 

"No, not really.” He admitted. He hasn’t seen Lamar, his best friend, in a couple of weeks because he’s been caught up with this beautiful creature, so caught up that he didn’t stop to think how he ended up in her motel room. 

“I found you on the street, mumbling nonsense, you were so out of it. I would’ve left you but you’re so young and you weren’t on the good side of town, plus I thought you’re really cute.” She winked at her last comment. 

Hearing that didn’t surprise Abel, he hasn’t been himself lately, he isn’t sure who he is anymore. He almost overdoses a couple of months ago, and he didn’t even care then because he doesn’t think he has anything to live for. 

“You’re at your downfall, kid, get your shit together because it only takes that extra pill, that one extra line to end your own life.” She warned, as if speaking from experience. 

“So, I ain’t scared of The Fall.” He truly does not seem to give a fuck. 

"You should be." 

"So, you think I’m cute?” He changed the subject, laying her down on her back, “because when I’m finished with you, you won’t wanna go Outside.” That smooth line was followed by a laugh in his face, 

"you’re so cute, how many girls did that work on?" 

"Shut up.” He grumbled, hating that his tactics don’t work on her.

“I’m going out, wanna come?” She announced, pushing him off of her and standing up, walking towards her closet. 

“Nah, I’m going to meet my boys. Y’know, if you want my heart, you can have it all, but you have to meet my boys, love,”

“Like a gang bang?” She snorted, unattractively. 

“Like an Initiation.” He smirked, and she responded by flipping him the bird. “Why are you always going out anyway?”

“‘Cause ain’t nobody feels the way I do when I’m alone, it’s why I live in Montreal.” She responded, surprising him by her honesty. “You’re kinda cute, kid, why don’t you have a girlfriend?” 

"What makes you think I don’t have a girlfriend?” He interjected, 

“we’ve done some pretty naughty things, Abel and I don’t take you for a cheater.” When he didn’t response with a witty comment, she turned around to look him; he seemed more angered than sad, she may have hit a nerve, “wanna talk about it?" 

"Not really, she’s the Same Old Song.” He spat, 

"Thank God because I am not good with feelings, like ew!” She shivered in disgust and changed into her party wear. “I’m ready, you sure you don’t wanna come with?" 

"I’m sure,” he assured, “oh and if they don’t let you in, you know where to find me.” He winked. 

“Hopefully not passed out on the street again.” She half-joked. “So if I wanna find you, I just go around saying XO?”

"Yeah, some call me The Host.” 

"You’re so lame!” She chuckled. 

“So, what does D.D stand for?” He wondered, recalling it was the name she had told him to call her when they properly met. 

"Dirty Diana." 


"Because I like boys in bands, and I’m every musicians fan, after the curtain comes down.” She purred, and he nodded, acting like he knew what that meant, “someday you’ll know what that means, kiddo, and don’t forget, she only wants you ‘cause you’re Next.”


“Meaning you’re gonna go far, and people will want to be apart of that, bad people, people like me, be careful is all. I’ve heard you sing in the shower, you’ve got something special, but if you need inspiration in your life, it’s your responsibility to go find it Abel and you won’t find it by drinking your life away. No amount of pills or liquor will get people to know your name, you will, your talent will. Don’t give up, kid. Good luck.” This is the most serious he’s seen her, the most wise. He didn’t take her seriously, not at that moment, but he knew she’s right. 

“I’m never gonna see you again, am I?” He accused, knowing it was the harsh truth.

“Probably not.” She cracked a smile. “Here,” she handed him a couple of tied 100 dollar bills, before he could argue, she shushed him, “go buy some equipment, a laptop, a mic, a studio for all I care! Make music, do what makes you happy, all that cheesy shit, be someone.” She pulled him into a long bear hug that they both very much needed, then she grabbed her duffel bag and left, never looking back. 

He stood there, suddenly feeling cold and lonely. She touched his life in away he would never forget and he hopes he’d see her again someday. He wanted to call out her name, but remembered that she had lied about a lot of things, her name probably being one of them, being a criminal and all. She told him she wanted to settle down, get a nice house in the middle of no where, find happiness and herself, I hope she gets that, he thought. He has a feeling there’s more to them, but he knows how this would end.

He had one last question that was bugging him and would bug him forever if he doesn’t ask, so he went after her, “Diana, wait!” She didn’t turn around to look but she stopped walking and he knew she was listening. “You do something really bad, you steal, and I wanna know why.” 

It had taken her a couple of minutes to reply, but she did nonetheless, “I like the thrill… Nothing is ever gonna make me feel this real.” She relished in pleasure. “Go home Abel.” 

And then she was gone, as if she was never even there. He returned to the motel room to collect his belongings. When he felt an overwhelming feeling, he took a seat on the edge of the bed, waiting for her to return and say, “just kidding, kiddo, you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” but all that was heard was Echoes of Silence

Chapter 7 - Camp

Summer - 17 Years Prior


Nervous didn’t even begin to describe how I felt right now. This whole scene was completely foreign to me. I honestly hadn’t seen like, real trees and shit, wilderness I guess, in so long. Besides outside through the windows on my way to school. But I usually chose to keep my nose close to a screen of some sort. But now, there wasn’t any sort of electronics around for at least a 10 mile radius. Maybe besides the walkman I’d managed to sneak in.

It helped some that my dad was the one to drop me off at what has to be the definition of Purgatory. Fucking summer camp. Camp Berry to be exact. I mean, I knew for sure that this was some sort of spiritual test when my dad told me it was run by a bunch of religious organizations. As if camp by itself wasn’t bad enough.

To make things worse, he’d dropped me off late. Everyone else had gotten moved in last night, enjoyed all the opening ceremony festivities and other bullshit. But nooo, everyone worked late last night so I had to get dropped off in the morning.

I walked awkwardly into the mess hall, trying to remain undetected by the backdoors. There were two long wooden tables parallel to each other and in turn perpendicular to a large stage in the front of the spacious room. Seating was self evident. All the girls to my left, all the boys to my right, a sea of tacky orange t-shirts.

“Well hello there!” A too peppy voice burst through my silent observations.

I looked up to see a tall, lanky white dude looming over me. Outfitted in the camp counselor gear I had only ever seen in movies and on TV before: khaki shorts that didn’t quite reach his knees, a brown tee that noted his counselor status, and the dumbest fucking handkerchief tied around his neck like he was wearing a cape.

“You must be our late check-in camper,” he continued, “Donald, right?”

I stared at him blankly in response.

“Well my name’s Ted! I’m the head counselor for the boy campers here. I’ll take your bags to the cabin for you, go make yourself comfortable and grab some breakfast!”

Before I could protest, Ted had all of my shit and was making his way quickly outside.




I sighed and decided to finally make my presence known to these dimwits I’d be spending the rest of my summer with. I was pretty sure if I just kept out of everyone’s way like normal I’d be okay.

Boy, was I wrong.

“Hey, you. Kid. I’m talking to you, Afro Punk.”

That got a lot of snickers. I hadn’t been sitting at the end of the table for an entire minute and I was already being harassed. A surly white kid was leaning over the table to get a better look at me. From what I could tell, he called the shots; the other boys eyes gleamed a little too hungrily as they watched him scowl at me.

“I’m Nick. I run shit around here.” Ah, corroborating my theories. “And if you want to survive here for the whole summer, you have to go by my rules.”

I sighed and put my utensils down. So much for eating.

“What do I have to do?”


Keep reading