seriously why torture me

Routine Part One (Lin x Fem!Reader)

I AM SO SORRY. I would’ve had this out earlier, but I went on a band trip to Disney World. I thought I would have this done before I left but I wasn’t satisfied with it.

YAY!! MY FIRST CAST FIC!!! Also, just saying this now, I am a sucker for young Lin. Like it’s a big problem.

This is going to be a multiple part thing, so be ready for that. I really hope you guys enjoy this, love you!!

Prompt List//Request Something//Masterlist

(Part Two)(Part Three)(Part Four)

requested: no

Prompts used:

150) It is too early for you to be this loud.

Summary: Reader and Lin have the same routine every day. Go to school, bicker all throughout 1st period, ignore each other for the rest of the day until seventh period where they bicker again, repeat. This keeps happening until one day they have to work together to save the arts program at their school. Their routine is very different after that.

Warnings: high school bullies, teen!lin being a jerk, reader being a jerk, just everyone being a jerk

Words: 1553


Originally posted by purelintrash

You walk into your first period class on a Monday morning during your senior year with a coffee in hand, which is the only thing keeping you from keeling over from exhaustion. You say hello to your English teacher, and sit in the back row like you do everyday. 

You grab your books out of your backpack and lay your head down on the desk, like you did every morning.

And just like every morning. Lin came in singing Les Mis at the top of his lungs which makes the girls in your class swoon. Once upon a time, hearing him sing would have made you do the same thing, but now all it makes you want to do is barf.

Keep reading

#53

Van and you were sitting on stage, in between all the cables and instruments. It was kind of a ritual for the both of you. After every show, you would just sit on the stage before everyone started rushing you to go back to the bus and clean the stage. You were sat indian style, face to face. Van was still sweaty from his performance but you didn’t mind. 

“You were really hot on stage tonight” you told him, smirking. 

“Was I ?” he asked you trying to sound flirty. 

“Yes, very! Why ? You’re usually very into it but never this hot” you said emphasizing on “this”. He laughed. “That’s a compliment, right?” You smiled. “Of course! Was it a girl in the audience that got you so… so…” you huffed, obviously over acting what you were saying. "I don’t even have words, McCann" 

“Kinda. But she was backstage driving me crazy as she always does” he said before throwing himself on you and tickle you, his body making you unable to move as he was lying on you. After some time he stopped and your laughs died down, resulting in both of you smiling at each other. 

“I love your laugh” he told you seriously. You gave him a light peck. 

“Is this why you torture me, tickling your poor innocent girlfriend who’s nothing but nice to you” he laughed before giving you a look that clearly said “seriously?” You laughed. He leaned closer to kiss you but you interrupted him.

“Will you ever write me a song ?” you asked out of nowhere. It wasn’t that you wanted a song but it was getting hard not to be self conscious when you had to listen to him sing about other girls every night. 

“I-” he started but you cut him off. 

“I mean I’m not pressuring you or anything. If you don’t want to write me a song don’t. Like I don’t want a song… I mean I do… but I don’t, I just don’t need one. It’s just it’s nice. I’m… yeah, I’ll just shut up. Thank you” you let out a breath and he laughed. He laughed for a moment before looking back at you. 

He stroke your cheek with his hand. “Even if I didn’t want to write you a song I would just have to share with the world what I got myself into with you” you opened your mouth and tried to look offended. 

He smiled and kissed your lower lip making you close your mouth on his.

“But yes. Yes I wrote a song about you. Actually more than one” he said. “Really? How many?” You asked, excited. “Trust me you don’t want to know. You already think I’m weird enough.“ 

He smiled and you shook your head but dropped the subject. 

"Sing one to me” you asked him. He shook his head, telling you there was no way he would sing one to you, especially now. He gave you the lame excuse that it wasn’t finished and you only deserved the very best. Your face to that answer made him realize it wouldn’t be enough to convince you. 

“I’ll sing them when you’ll leave me and break my heart” he said, a little too seriously for your liking. 

“We’ll never be able to listen to them then…“ you said. He smiled. 

"Yeah… Too bad” he said, smiling not meaning a word he was saying. 

“I’m sure they were great. I mean they’re about me and I’m pretty fucking awesome so…” you said. 

He laughed and got up before he held his hand out for you. You took it and got up. You both walked off stage, his arms around you while he kissed your forehead. 

“18” he said. You looked at him wondering what he was talking about. “18 songs” he said, blushing. He was so cute. Your heart was going to come out of your chest because of how much love you had for this boy. 

“Someone’s whipped…” you whispered and he slapped your ass. You laughed and started running out with him chasing you, threatening to “tickle you to death” when he would catch you.

It’s snowing outside and it feels like Christmas so I’m casually joining the ugly sweater party that alackofghosts, likes-drawing-elves, and tosquinha have started

So here, have my grumpy hipster Maglor who is trying really hard to pretend he’s cooler than he actually is. Although you better bet that at the end of the party, he’s the one who drank way too much eggnog and is drunkenly singing Christmas carols at the top of his lungs

@golden-but-not-in-the-good-way || (continued from here)

golden-but-not-in-the-good-way:

“I’m not surprised, actually,” Ford said coolly.   He grumbled. “And would you stop that laughing?  It’s creepy!”

Ford frowned and crossed his arms over his chest defensively.  "Seriously?  Why? Do you want to torture me some more or threaten my family?“

He stared back into that unnerving amber eye. A relentless wave of memories tried to assault him and he stubbornly refused to acknowledge them. 

“I’ll fight you.  No matter what.  You know that, right?”

“Aw, c’mon, Fordsy, where’s your sense of humor? Admit it, you find it a little hilarious.”

The demon kicked a foot up over the other and shifted his weight to one side, leaning on a cane that hadn’t been there moments ago. 

“Sure I know that. I also know exactly how many nightmares you’ve woken up from in a sticky cold sweat. They really do the trick, don’t they? Reminding you that you should be fighting back. Human nature never ceases to amaze, Stanford.”

His voice held hints of ridicule.

“People thrive on fear of the unknown. And wouldn’t ya know it, fear is what drives you all to an early grave. That same cycle of stupidity continues on until the endtimes.
HAHAHA! That’s a comforting thought, right?”

Bill teleported then, deeming the table close to Ford’s desk a fitting spot to take a seat.
(The sound of pens falling to the floor promptly followed.)

“But here’s something a little less foreboding for you to chew on: torturing you Pines at this point would be a wasted effort. The big ol’ party in the sky got cut short and -hey, let’s face it, no one likes reruns. So break out the poison juice and party hats, Sixer. Celebrate dumb luck any waking chance you get!”