should probably work on papers now

Ardent Love (M)

Summary: It is that time of the year when your husband disappears behind his office doors, stacks of papers piled high on his desk, and fails to return home until the wee hours of the morning-if he returns at all. As the days pass by and his side of the bed grows colder, you decide that if he is too busy to come home, you’ll just have to go to him. 
Pairing: Yoongi x Reader
Genre: Smut, romance || Husband/CEO! Yoongi
Word Count: 3,900+
Warnings: office (desk) sex, riding, oral, etc.
For Prompt #2: “Shh, let’s just see how quiet you can be” which was requested by @baepsaewhalien and an anon|| This was meant to just be a drabble…
Other Drabbles

Originally posted by my-eccentric-mind

The door falls shut with a gentle clink, the noise resounding in the small office space and you blink back the nerves and excitement as Yoongi peers up at you from where he is seated behind his large, oak desk, glasses falling gradually down the bridge of his nose. He says nothing at your presence, simply cocks a brow in muted amusement and motions for you to take a seat on the leather couch that is nestled in the small corner of his work space. You follow his instructions silently, heels clicking along the tiled floor as you move over to take a spot on the plush cushions, hands coming to rest on your lap. There is a familiar itch that comes with these meetings, a pleasant buzz of eagerness that lingers just below the surface of your limbs.

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Moving to university is a huge thing and it teaches you a lot. It’s been over a year since I first moved to university and I know a lot of you will be doing this within the next few months so I thought why not share my advice, tips and what I learnt about moving into university and out of home.

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I meant to post this on april fool’s day because my writing is a joke :) But I’m late, so here’s a joke posted on the wrong day.

Summary: Keith, who just happens to be coming down with a cold, is forced to wait out a thunderstorm with Lance.

“You’re still coming to pick me up, right?”

Lance’s voice is questioning, insecure, as if he doesn’t already know the answer. Keith sighs into the phone, before sniffling once, absently rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. “I thought we already went over this.”

“I know, but I called you and you weren’t picking up–”

“I was in class,” Keith retorts, pressing the phone to his ear with one hand as he slings his backpack over his shoulders with the other. He twists away briefly to cough into his shoulder. “The lecturer ended a little later than usual, that’s all.”

He can hear Lance’s hum of assent on the other end. “So, you are coming, then?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Keith pauses outside of the university building, scanning the parking lot for his motorbike, before he spots it parked in the far left corner. “Have you been waiting for a long time?”

“The meeting ended ten minutes ago,” Lance responds, “so, not really.”

“That’s good,” Keith unfastens his helmet from where it’s been clipped around the handlebars, then fits it over his head, brushing loose strands of hair from his eyes. “….I’m heading off. I‘m going to have to hang up now, okay?”

“Okay,” Lance pauses. “I’ll see you in twenty minutes?”

“Fifteen.” Keith fishes a keychain out of his pocket, pausing to find the right key before inserting it into the ignition. “See you there.”

The engine starts up, a low rumble of sound and motion, and Keith presses the end call button before sliding the phone back into his pocket. He sniffles, before straightening slightly, navigating the bike carefully out of the parking lot.

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What a Tease.

gif from: isophhia  gif source: x

(check out their posts bc they are a peaky blinders blog and have a lot of cool posts)

John Shelby x Reader

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 

Prompt: You are hired by the Shelby’s after impressing them. 

A/N: I will be releasing a part 2 that involves more reader and John stuff than this one. This is more of an introduction than anything with slight hints at John taking a liking to you. Hope you enjoy!

Smoke swirled about the room, topped with laughter and the strong scent of alcohol. The further into the night, the looser the lips in the room became. Louder and louder as more people packed in the later in the day it became. The front doors smacked against the wall as they entered and the room became slightly quieter, still loud with whispers. As the three entered the side room the bar crescendoed back into speaking and laughter. 

You wasted no time and walked behind the bar reaching for the top shelf placing three glasses and whiskey on a tray. You passed the men crowding around the bar stools towards the Shelby’s side room. The tray weighed down on your hand as you knocked with ease on the small door. A creak came from the door that was now opened slightly, inviting you in. Only one of them looked up at you as he took a large puff on the cigar in his hand. The other two continued talking not paying attention to you pouring the whiskey into the glasses. Silently listening to the conversation acting as if you were hearing nothing about their newest business plan, your eyes drift upwards from the drink making unwavering eye contact with the lighter haired Blinder. Usually you avoided doing this with guys, knowing it usually only leads to trouble. Maybe it was because you were yelled at by the boss today or that you had been groped by twice as many guys today but you didn’t break as you continued to pour drinks.

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I’m wondering if I should say anything about this (especially after a long, draining shift at work where two things went wrong – but those two things were enough to occupy me the whole entire night), but –

I just think it’s unfair that there have been callout posts for artists who have drawn Pharmercy in an offensive way, but have admitted their mistakes and have apologized for them.

It’s one thing to call them out if they didn’t. But the thing is, they owned up to their mistakes, and one of them is even reluctant to draw Pharmercy now because of it.

I just think Tumblr is too obsessed with being right and having this moral rectitude that’s personified in callout culture, to the point where even people who make simple mistakes are punished for them via death by crucifixion. 

If you really want to help someone out, you’d engage with them one on one instead of getting thousands of people to shame them, and then smearing an entire subset of a fandom with the same brush, especially since there are members of that fandom who admit that there is a problem with racism, fetishism, whitewashing, etc. and have actively spoken out against it.

And in my case, I’ve even taken hits for it from members of my own fandom, and have lost people that I once considered friends because of it.

So yeah, Pharmercy fandom does have a problem with racism and bad portrayals of Fareeha, etc. And that should rightfully be discussed. Most of us are aware of this, and are trying our best to counteract it. But I do think it’s unfair to make callout posts for misguided artists who have made mistakes, and who have also apologized for them.

And that’s all I’m gonna say for now.

You’re Distracting Part 1

Title: Your Distracting Part 1

Pairing: Thomas Jefferson x Reader

Rating: Teen (changes through chapters)

Summary: Y/N has had a crush on her friend Jefferson for as long as she had known him. What happens when she goes looking for a distraction? More importantly , what does Thomas think of your new company?

Authors note: I will try and update this every week. If you are interested in proof reading I am looking for someone to help me out. This is my first fic so criticism is appreciated and please send some requests for me to post in between.

Word Count: 804

*Reader POV*

Madison was grinning like a mad man as I shifted under his gaze. I felt sick to my stomach, terrified of what he was going to say. I wanted to run from my humiliation in this moment. “I can’t believe you.” Madison said looking as if he were about to burst into laughter.

“T-then don’t push me to talk about stuff if you d-don’t want to know.” I spat back, granted a little upset.

“I just can’t believe you agreed to go on a date with Hamilton. You know he has a thing for the Schuyler sisters. Not to mention Jefferson hates him. I know you. You hate upsetting Thomas.” He spoke laughing at first but got softer towards the end like a parent trying to talk sense into a toddler.

I had just recently agreed to go on a date with the Alexander Hamilton. I didn’t expect it. We talked in our government class, and by we talked, I mean he talked to me. I was quiet and Hamilton never seemed to shut up. It didn’t bother me, it just helped fill the silence. I had gotten comfortable with him much to the disdain of my friend Jefferson. When Alexander came up to me at the café where I was working on my thesis paper the last thing I had expected him to do was invite me on a movie date with him. I knew that I should probably have said no but it was so out of the blue my mouth reacted faster than my mind. I had said yes and now I have two problems.

Jefferson has been my best friend since orientation my freshman year of college. We differed on a lot of political points but he was fun to be around. He exuded confidence. I think that’s what drew me to him in the first place. He had enough confidence for both of us. I always tried to please him. I chose my friends and activities based on who and what he liked and disliked. I only realized a month into our friendship that I had a crush on him. It had gotten out of hand and I knew it. Which brings me to my first dilemma. He hated Hamilton. He constantly bickered and fought about him ‘Hamilton did this …’ and ‘You would not believe what Hamilton said!’ I struggled to play along even though I didn’t particularly hate Hamilton or his friends.

My second problems has to do with Alexander. Everyone knew for a fact that he had a thing for two of the Schuyler sisters on campus. I wasn’t friends with the sisters but I knew that they both had a thing for him to. I knew when I accepted his invitation that it wouldn’t end in much.

So I have officially accepted date that I know will lead nowhere and upset my best friend/crush. I had immediately gone to Madison, one of my only other friends, and practically laid out the situation. I was curled up with my feet underneath me and stared at him expectedly for real advice.

He sighed and pulled him hand down him face with an exasperated look. “I don’t know what to say Y/N. I don’t know how to fix this for you. All I can say is to go on the date end it there and hope Jefferson never finds out about it.” He chuckled.

“That could work.” I said picked at the fuzz on the blanket in my lap. I stared out the window distractedly.

The date with Alexander went extremely well. Something that I hadn’t really expected. It was like hanging out with a great friend. We laughed until out sides hurt and played scrabble (which he of course won). By the end of the movie we had on we were cuddled up to each other on the coach. After which he walked me back to my dorm, claiming it was no time of night for a lady to be walking by herself.

This is why I made the decision I did. I had to get over Jefferson. There were at least 20 other pretty girls flaunting over him all the time. All of them a lot prettier than me. So when Hamilton asked me on a second date and then a third and fourth I continued to accept.

With my new secret relationship I found it hard to spend a lot of time with Madison and Thomas. I felt awful but it was just happening. I used to talk to them every day but other the last month I had seen them maybe a total of 5 times outside of class. I could tell Madison was upset and suspicious based on his messages while Thomas didn’t comment on it and remained quiet.

Breaking... Ch.4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

A/N: Sorry I’ve been away for a bit everyone! I was in the hospital for a little bit so I couldn’t write ;-; But I’m back now and decided to make an extra long chapter to make up for it! ^-^ I hope you all reall enjoy it, it’s really plot heavy so please give me any feedback that you may have! Have a wonderful day everyone!!!

Word count: 5215

Warnings: A lot of cursing (Like most oit is not needed), allusions of sexual assault, emotions in general, being a bad bitch.

Tags!! @iamnotthrowingawaymyshit @renae-writes @deltablue202 @literally-melonkitty

Breaking Bonds

Dear, uh, journal or diary I guess?

I decided that since I can’t talk about my frustrations in real life, I’m writing them down. Alex does it so I suppose I can to? Life has been odd ever since I came here. Honestly what else would you expect when you’re just dropped off in a world you shouldn’t even be in?  It’s been a few months since I arrived at the Hamilton’s. Eliza gave birth to a little boy last week! William is his name but I’ve taken a liking to calling him Willy. The other boys are doing fine; James, John and lil Alex are a trio of tricksters. Just the other day they messed with all of Eliza’s corsets, taking the strings off and using them to play Revolution. They’re charming, just a bit too rambunctious from time to time. Angie and I have grown rather close despite our age gap, I’m about five years older than her so I suppose it isn’t too bad. Philip is, well, he’s different I suppose is the right way to put it. I’m older than him too by about three years but since we’re the closest in age we get along the best. He’s really interesting, we’ve taken up the habit of debating. I’m honestly surprised he doesn’t question my opinions on anything, you’d think that a person in these years would be more close minded about a woman’s stance on the world. He says the first thing we should do after he graduates is go rally for abolishing slavery and promoting women’s rights. I suppose it isn’t too unbelievable, he is Eliza and Alex’s son after all. He’s still the biggest flirt I’ve ever come across in all my life but that’s just his way of being friendly at this point. Ever since I told him off the first time we met he’s learned to act like that only in moderation. Rachel says that she was hoping for Philip and I to start “Courting”, why she’d hope for that I couldn’t tell you. Philip is a flirt yes, but he does not see me that way, nor should he. One day I won’t be here anymore, it would never work out, I really don’t want to bring him down when the inevitable happens. He deserves better than that, he deserves someone who can devote their life to him. That got a bit more depressing than I meant for it to, time to change topics. Alex is doing better; he was able to get a bit of revenge on Adams. I am not at liberty to say if I was not a part of that endeavor. We spent a long time trying to find just the right words to describe him accurately. Those words including fat, arrogant, anti-charismatic and many others. He stays in his study most of the time, I’m not really sure what he’s doing but he barely comes out of there. Now that he is at the house more, I’ve had the pleasure of hearing about the other members of the cabinet. Many tangents have occurred, speaking of going off into an entirely different point. Eliza has called me “Dear” ever since I arrived, it’s become a bit of a nickname and Alex is literally calling me “Titania”. Ever since he made that connection he’s decided that the name suits me, in fact I only hear my real name when he’s trying to get my attention. Eliza is a wonderful mother, she’s kind, strong, intelligent and Alex is a good match for her. They’re treating me as if I were their own child, I’m eternally grateful for their niceties. They tried to get me to change rooms at one point, saying that I might be more comfortable in one of the guest rooms. I declined the offer, they’ve already done enough for me, the least I can do is work for what they’re giving me, so I’m a maid. It actually isn’t that bad, Rachel makes the work really fun! We chat and joke around, she’s really sweet. Although she can be a bit mysterious, sometimes I catch her reading these letters. Whenever I ask her about them she hides them behind her back and pretends to not know what I’m talking about. I wonder what they say, the mystery continues to grow! Now that I’m thinking about it, I should probably go help her clean the floor, until next time journal, diary, paper thing?

P.S. Quills are hard to use.

             You put the quill down and stretched out your arms before getting up and walking out of your room. You’ve gotten used to walking through the embellished halls by yourself. It’s been almost five months since that guy shot me and I still don’t know what’s going on… I can’t be stuck here forever but what exactly am I supposed to do? The possibility of me just being dead keeps growing by the day and I’m running out of other ideas. It’s either that or I somehow got thrown out of time, how does that even happen? People get shot all the time and I don’t hear any stories about traveling back to colonial New York. What the hell is even happening? I’m not getting any answers and that’s just making me frustrated. I should stop thinking about it for a little bit, it isn’t helping me any right now. Let’s just focus on work. You turned the corner into the main room on the ground floor. This room is where you feel the second most comfortable in the whole house, since it has the large front door, which had to receive a thorough cleaning after your blood almost stained it. In the middle of the room you saw Rachel, sitting on her knees with a bucket, a wet rag in hand, scrubbing the floor. You quickly joined her, grabbing the other rag hanging off the side of the bucket. As you began to scrub the floor Rachel spoke up, her voice almost song like.

“Soooooo?” She cooed.

“So, what?” You questioned.

“You said you went to go write something down, was it for anyone special?” The grin on her face grew immensely.

“Why would it be for someone else?” You asked as your face scrunched up. Rachel sighed in frustration.

“You don’t have to hide it from me Y/N! I won’t tell Mrs. Hamilton that you and Philip are writing to each other!” She inched closer to you, almost like she was ready to hear a secret.

“Why would we write to each other? We’re in the same house.” If I want to talk to him I just have to find him, what’s the point in writing him a letter?

“What do you mean, why? It’s obvious why! It’s hard to get any privacy with everyone in the house constantly, you have to write in order to keep your conversations to yourself.” She explained.

“He’s my friend Rachel, we aren’t talking about anything that I wouldn’t mind someone else hearing.” You rolled your eyes. She really needs to stop bringing this up, I feel like I have this discussion every day.

“You can deny it all you like, but I’m not the only one who sees it!” She teased.

“Yeah, yeah.” You continued to clean the floor, an appreciated silence grew between the two of you. You had moved to clean a few feet away from the front door when you suddenly heard the familiar sound of wheels and the trot of a horse. Alex must be back; I didn’t think the trip to town would be that quick. You scooted away from the door slightly to ensure that the door wouldn’t hit you and that Alex would have enough room to walk past but you heard something odd. There were footsteps going up the steps outside, that wouldn’t be strange normally but it sounded like there was more than one person. The door suddenly swung open, revealing three sets of legs, that was all you could really see when looking straight ahead and on the floor. You lifted your gaze upward to get a better look. Three men stood in the doorway. The man in front was carrying some sort of walking stick, his suit a vibrant magenta, the color seemed a bit distracting for you and his hair was made up of tight-knit curls that caused it stick out in several directions. There was a shorter man standing off beside him, he looked calm and collected or in deep thought depending on whom you were asking, his own clothes were much more of a neutral purple and he seemed to be carrying some kind of satchel, he looked pleasant enough. Next to him was an extremely tall gentleman, he towered over both of the others and yet he felt smaller to you somehow, he was holding a handkerchief up to his mouth. You quickly stood up to introduce yourself the way Rachel showed you, swiftly dusting off your skirt before you bowed your head respectfully.

“Hello gentlemen, welcome to the Hamilton residence. Is there anything that I may assist you with?” You asked politely. Why do they all look so familiar to me? The man wearing magenta cleared his throat, after looking you up in down for a moment.

“Yes actually, there is. You could help me with learning your name, I seem to not have had the pleasure of hearing it.” He held out his hand and you gave him yours, trying to ignore his flirty introduction. Did Philip take notes from this guy or something?

“My name is Y/N, and you are?” You questioned as he pressed his lips to your knuckle. Who are there guys? I’ve never seen them visit before…

“Thomas Jefferson, and the other two with me are Aaron Burr and James Madison.” He spoke with a sly grin as he straightened his posture. Wait…Thomas Jefferson? Like THE Thomas Jefferson? Like wrote the Declaration of Independence Thomas Jefferson? And Madison! Like wrote twenty-nine of the Federalist Papers Madison! You tried to blink away the surprise of meeting two of America’s presidents at the same time. You quickly looked back at Rachel and saw her quickly rushing out of the room. What am I supposed to when two major founding fathers come in unexpected? You turned your attention back to the three men.

“I am so sorry; you must forgive my rudeness. I did not realize who you were, is there anything I can do for you?” You asked, a bit nervous as to what their visit was about. The shorter man, now identified as Aaron Burr spoke up.

“We are here to see Mr. Hamilton; we have important business to discuss with him.” Just as you were about to answer him you heard a voice coming from the large staircase at the end of the room.

“Ah, Mr. Jefferson, I have not seen you as of late. I am sorry to inform you that Father is not in right now, he went to town but he should be back fairly soon.” It was Philip, he hopped off the last step and made quick strides toward your group congregated at the front door. He soon stood beside you, but his eyes were focused on the three men ahead of you, a strained smile etched on his face. Philly, fake smiles don’t look good on you. Your natural smile fits you better. Jefferson kept his gaze fixed on you.

“Thank you Philip but I do not mind waiting, Miss Y/N has been lovely company thus far. Miss Y/N, may I ask for a place to sit until Mr. Hamilton returns?” Jefferson asked. Philip’s eye seemed to slant a bit, they were cold.

“Of course, um, please follow-“ You were interrupted by another voice, this one coming from the other side of the room.

“Thomas, Burr, Madison! How delightful for you all to visit! My husband may be out but if you would follow me to the study we may wait in there.” Eliza stepped forward, Rachel by her side. So that’s what Rachel ran out of the room for. The three men stepped past you, each of them going up to Eliza and shaking her hand. Eliza is the coolest!

“Eliza! It’s wonderful to see you as always!” Aaron said as he shook her hand. Eliza soon led them all down the hall, toward Alex’s study. Philip stayed silent for a moment before stepping in front of you, his eyes remained cold, was he angry?

“Y/N, I need you to make me a promise.” He said simply.

“What kind of promise?”

“Promise me you’ll be careful around Jefferson, he’s not exactly a man to be trusted.” He retorted. What? What is he trying to say?

“Philly, I can handle myself. I’m a grown woman, besides, what do I need to be careful of?” Anger was laced in your voice. I don’t know what he’s trying to say but I don’t think I like it. I’m not a child, I don’t need him to babysit me or something!

“Please just, ugh, you don’t know what he’s like Y/N! Just please watch yourself, I don’t want him to try anything funny.” Philip said, running his fingers through his curls with exasperation. Rachel stepped over to us.

“Um, Y/N, Lady Betsy would like some tea, will you join me in the kitchen?” She said while tugging on your arm. Thank you Rachel! I really need an out here!

“Of course, I would be happy to help. Philip, I’ll see you later.” You walked out of the room with Rachel. Does he not trust me or something? I’m not his responsibility! But was I being too harsh? The two of you left Philip behind and walked into the kitchen. Rachel immediately crossed her arms across her chest, looking extremely annoyed.

“I cannot believe you, you were not being very ladylike to Philip! Did you have to be so childish?” She lectured.

“First of all, I don’t care about being ladylike. Second of all, I was not acting childish. If anything, it was him who was treating me like a child.” You puffed out your cheeks, making you feel like the child she was insinuating you to be. She sighed and pointed at one of the tall cabinets.

“Never mind, please just get the tea box from the cupboard. I’ll make the tea myself.” She spoke with annoyance. You groaned softly to yourself but did as she asked, grabbing the small box from the cupboard and handing it off to Rachel. She prepared the tea as you gathered the tray, cups, saucers and spoons for everyone. You set everything up, Rachel poured the tea and picked up the tray. She walked away with the tray and you followed close behind, staying silent most of the time. As the two of you passed through the main room once more, Philip was nowhere to be seen. He must’ve gone to his room… Was Rachel right about how I was acting? You suddenly heard a carriage outside.

“Y/N, can you attend to that, I must take this tea to Mrs. Hamilton.” Rachel said as she continued toward the hall. You nodded and watched as she disappeared down the hall on her way to the study. It was not long before the front door was opened and a familiar long-haired man came strolling in.

“Titania! You seem troubled, is something the matter?” Alex asked with slight concern. I won’t bother him with this petty problem, he’s got other things to worry about…

“Thanks Alex but no, nothing’s wrong. Actually you have some visitors, Eliza is keeping them company in the study.” You informed him. He raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Oh? Is that right? Well, I’ll be on my way then, don’t want to keep my wife waiting now!” He said while walking past you, a skip in his step. I haven’t seen him this happy in a while, hopefully this continues. You followed close behind him. Eliza or Rachel may need me after the leave. The two of you approached the study door, you passed Alex so that you could knock on the door. Rachel opened the door before you could knock however, the tray now empty in her arms.

“Oh! Mr. Hamilton! Back so soon? Welcome home, Mrs. Hamilton, would you like to finish your tea in the parlor?” Man, Rachel can really move a conversation huh?

“Oh yes, we should leave the boys to their work.” Eliza exited the room and Rachel walked alongside her. You were going to follow them back, you really were, but something caught your interest. Alex finally noticed who was in the room, he walked in and closed the door behind him. Walls are paper thin though, you never considered yourself nosey but you had a bad feeling. No one else is around…

“Mr. Vice President, Mr. Madison, Senator Burr… What is this?” Alex sounded suspicious.

“We have the check stubs from separate accounts.” Jefferson stated. What are they talking about?

“Almost a thousand dollars paid in different amounts.” Madison continued. Why does this sound familiar?

“To a Mr. James Reynolds all the way back from 1791.” Burr finished. Wait a second…

“You are uniquely situated by virtue of your position.” Madison voiced.

“Though ‘virtue’ is not a word I’d apply to this situation.” Jefferson really knows how to finish thoughts doesn’t he?

“To seek financial gain, you have strayed from our sacred nation.” Madison too I guess?

“And the evidence suggests you engaged in speculation.” Speculation?

“An immigrant embezzling our government funds!” Not you too Burr… Aren’t you supposed to be his friend?

“I can almost hear the headlines; your career is done.” Madison said simply.

“I hope saved some money for your daughter and sons.”

“You best want to run back where you from.” Fuck you too Jefferson! You heard Alex chuckle.

“You don’t even know what you’re asking me to confess. You know nothing, I don’t have to tell you anything at all…unless…”

“Unless?” Jefferson questioned.

“If I can prove that I never broke the law, do you promise not to tell a soul who you saw?” Alex asked. You heard someone mumble something, you couldn’t quite make out what it was.

“Is that a yes?” Alex asked once again.

“Um, yes?” Madison seemed to say but it sounded more like a question. You didn’t realize how close you were pressed up to the door at this point. Alex, please don’t… You heard a drawer opening, the sound of feet shuffling and papers being sift through, then it was Burr’s voice, he sounded like he was reciting something.

“Dear Sir, I hope this letter finds you in good health and in a prosperous enough position to put wealth in the pockets of people like me down on their luck. You see, that was my wife you decided to-“ Shit! What are you doing Alex?! You swung open the door, the sound of the door hitting the wall sounding eerily familiar.

“Excuse me!” You called out, making the four men stop what they were doing and look over at you.

“Titania? What are you-“ Alex began to ask, an incredulous look on his face.

“Mr. Hamilton! Eliz- er, I mean Mrs. Hamilton requests for your immediate presence!” What the hell am I doing? What the hell am I saying?!

“Titania?” Jefferson asked in a confused tone.

“Mr. Hamilton? Titania, since when do-“ Alex this is not the time for questions!

“It is very urgent sir! There is no time!” You jogged into the room and up to Alex, locking your arm around his and pulling him along. As you passed Burr you grabbed the letter out of his hand.

“Forgive me, I cannot let you read Mr. Hamilton’s documents while he isn’t present! Now come along sir, Lady Betsy needs you right now!” You practically ran out of the room, dragging Alex behind you and leaving the three men to soak in their own questions. Eliza and Rachel are in the parlor, Philip and the children are upstairs in their rooms, where do I even go? You ended up leading Alex to his and Eliza’s room. It’s the closest place where I can talk to him! You pushed him to the room, ran in and slammed the door behind you and pressing your back against it to make sure no one would try to open it. Alex looked at you, utterly dumbfounded.

“Y/N, what in God’s name are you doing? First of all, it is rude to pull someone out of important meeting like that! Second of all, you had no business to be listening in on said meeting, do not even pretend as through you weren’t! And third of all, a lady should not be locking a married ma-“

“Alex none of that matters right now! What the hell were you thinking? You were just about to tell some of the most influential men in the country that you were having an affair! Don’t you even pretend like you weren’t!” You tried not to raise your voice. I really fucking wish I could quiet yell like Eliza can! Alex suddenly turned pale in the face.

“How…How do you know about that? I,I never spoke of it to anyone until now…” Alex looked at you as if he were questioning the entire world. How do I get myself out of this?

“Alex, I know you and I’m no fool. It isn’t hard to connect the dots…” That won’t be enough.

“You saw the letters, didn’t you?” Alex asked, shame filling his eyes. You were taken aback for a moment; did he really just give you an out here?

“Alex, listen to me. I am your friend, you treat me like a daughter and Eliza does the same. I care for both of you, and because of that I need to give you some crucial advice…” Ok Y/N, time to use that History degree you’re working for! Alex looked at you sullenly as you continued.

“Do not, under any circumstances, give them anymore access to those letters, it will not end well. And please Alex, you need to talk to Eliza. I know you’ve been keeping this from her but she is your wife! I know you love her; I don’t know if I’ve ever seen someone love another person more. She deserves to know the truth.” Alex looked conflicted, half of him was saying that you were right and the other was trying to drag him back into secrecy.

“Titania… I don’t know if I can. You heard what they were saying, they are slandering my name with talks of treason! I cannot allow that. And Betsy… she would never look at me the same…” He trailed off, looking even more defeated than he did before. I don’t know if there’s anything else I can do…

“Alex, I know these decisions are hard but… I’m going to have to trust that you make the right one.” You straightened your posture and stepped up to Alexander, making sure he could see the sincerity in your eyes. You placed your hand on his shoulder reassuringly, he looked like a lost puppy. I’m not used to Alex looking this sad, it wasn’t even this bad when he got fired.

“Thank you…Titania. I’ll try to make this right, but I must ask a favor of you. Do not speak of this to Eliza yet, like you said, it’s best that I tell her myself. Just not yet, I promise I’ll tell her soon, I just need to figure out how to tell her…”

“Of course Alex, just please try not to wait too long. I’m here for you if you need any help ok?” He nodded, looking a little a bit better now. You let your grip on the letter soften and gave it back to Alex. Geez, that paper looks a lot more wrinkled than it did before…oops. You both walked out of the room, trying to be as quiet as possible while making your way back to the study. You could hear people still moving around in the room. Jefferson and the others must still be in there. Alex opened the door and took a step inside.

“Forgive me gentlemen, my wife is a bit unwell as of right now. We just received a child last week so she is still quite frail. I’m going to need to ask you to leave, we can continue this conversation at a later date. Titania, would you show our guests out please?”

“Yes, of course, I’ll see to it right away, sir.” You said softly. It’s weird to call him sir. Alex walked away, going in the direction of the parlor. You looked on at the men in the room.

“If you will please follow me, sirs.” You side stepped to allow the others to exit the room, Jefferson was the last to pass by you. He looked down at you and you could see two things written on his face, questions and resolutions. You picked up the pace so that you were in front of them, leading them toward the front door. You opened it up, Aaron walked out silently. Madison bowed his head to you and thanked you for your services. Jefferson’s voice rang out.

“Give me but a moment friends, I have some questions for Miss Titania here.” You felt the door you were holding open close and your back hitting it. Your eyes were filled with the color magenta; he was very close. Magenta is turning into a really ugly color.

“Alright Y/N or Titania or whatever your real name is. I know what you’re up to.” He whispered into your ear.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You practically spat. If this asshole doesn’t take a step back, we’re going to have some issues.

“You can’t fool me; I know a scandal when I see one. Now listen up, there’s only so many explanations as to what’s going on here.” He stated, you had a very bad feeling about this.

“Oh then please Mr. Jefferson, do enlighten me. What is your explanation?” You were pissed, you were beyond pissed in fact.

“Alexander had an affair, that much is plainly obvious. With Mr. Reynolds wife no less. Eliza was telling me a bit about you, how you showed up out of the blue, how close you and Alexander are…” He trailed off.

“What are you implying?” You gritted your teeth.

“Come on now, a pretty girl like you? Those checks were made out a while ago, no way another affair hasn’t happened in that time frame. You, Miss Y/N, are the second mistress.” Excuse me?! What the fuck?! He kept talking.

“I, myself, have a bit of interest in the working girl as well, so I can’t say that I don’t understand his reasons. Now this can go when one of two ways. Either you say no to my proposition and I ruin Alex’s career with this new found information or you say yes.” He did not just fucking say that to me!

“And what exactly is this ‘proposition’?” You snarled, he heard him give a deep, sinister chuckle. He placed his hand under your chin and pulled your face closer to his.

“As I said, I am quite interested in the working girl, I’m sure it isn’t too hard to figure out. So what do you say?” He asked, a fiendish smile on his face. If this bastard thinks he’s going to manipulate me, he’s got another thing coming!

“No way in he-“ Just as you were pushing his hand away you heard a voice. Why do I keep getting interrupted today?! You heard the voice and footsteps coming from the staircase.

“Mr. Jefferson, I would suggest you step away from Miss Y/N. It would not be good for your reputation to have this get out. Are we clear?” It was Philip, standing in the middle of the room. He looked even angrier than you did. Jefferson gave another chuckle, taking a step back from you.

“Well, it was nice to make your acquaintance, Titania.” He said plainly as he straightened his posture, you stepped out of the way of the door and he was gone in an instant. The door and shut and you were immediately walking up to Philip.

“What the hell was that?” You questioned angrily

“I should be asking you the same thing! Y/N, I told you to be careful around him, that man isn’t someone to be taken lightly!” He was upset, you couldn’t tell if he was upset with you or with something else.

“I was handling it! I could’ve gotten him to leave with-“

“I know you could’ve Y/N! But I’m not sorry! I just don’t want to see you get hurt!” He seemed to shutter at his own words. Philip…

“I, I’m sorry Philly… I didn’t mean to… You were just trying to help and I-“ You were cut off by Philip wrapping his arms around you, gently hugging you.

“Don’t be sorry, just let me say something. We’re friends, you’re my friend and I’m yours. Friends are supposed to rely on each other, so don’t try and handle everything yourself. I know I’d rely on you and I wish you’d do the same for me when it’s helpful. Can you at least promise me that you’ll trust me more?” He asked, pulling away so he could see you. Some friend I’ve been, huh? He just helped you get rid of some annoying asshole and here you are getting mad at him. You heaved a sigh.

“You have a real knack for stopping people in the middle of their sentences… Ok Philly, I promise.” You gave him a small smile and his whole face seemed to light up.

“Thank you! But don’t call me Philly, Angie already does that enough!” You laughed at his comment. He’s always able to calm me down, don’t take Philip’s kindness for granted Y/N…

“Not a chance sunshine boy! I’m going to hold these names over you for the rest of my days!” You laughed, you suddenly felt light headed.

“Whoa, you ok their Y/N? You look pale all of a sudden.” Philip said with concern. What’s going on?

“Yeah, just a lot of commotion happening at once. I think I… I think I need to lay down for a bit…” Your head was throbbing, you’ve felt this pain before, the feeling of being pulled at from different directions. You began to walk off.

“Do you need some help?” Philip asked.

“I’m just going to rest for a bit, can I talk to you later Philip?” He nodded.

“Of course, I’ll be up in my room working if you need me, ok?”

“Thanks Philly…” You made your way down the halls to the living quarters and then into your room. You saw your journal entry still on the small desk and fell down on to your bed. Everything hurt, it was hard to breath, hard to move. I just keep getting more questions to answer don’t I? This was the last thought you had before you drifted off into unconsciousness.

Weakness - Part 2

Summary: You’re an old acquaintance of Barry Allen and The Flash’s enemy, but when you’re together you’re way more than that. You’re struggling with your evilness and Barry wants to help. Will you let him?

Requested by some-will-give-you-hell: For Weakness part 2, I kind of want to see a softer side of the reader like if she overhears a little girl talking about how she lost everything because of reader and she hears the little girl feel like no one cares about her and the reader is reminded on how that’s how she feels about herself because of her past and that’s why she does what she does. She feels very conflicted and she sends a nondestructive signal to the Flash because she wants to talk to him since she can’t talk to anyone else.

Requested by Anonymous: Maybe for part 2 you could write a little more about the reader, tell us a bit of her backstory.

Pairings: Barry Allen x reader

Word count: 2144

A/N: You asked for part 2 and here it is! I’m really glad you guys liked it that much, wow! Thank you for your suggestions and I hope you like this part too! Let me know if I should do another one ;)

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5


Keep reading

Remember (Edited)

By no means is this a part two. Tweaked and added a bit to this previous post. Might delete the original later. Anywho, ‘ere we go!


Based off of Harry’s own “I Love You.”
Performed by Alex and Sierra.


Harry remembers what it was like to hold her. He remembers how her heart would pick up pace when he ran his fingers down her back. Remembers the cold days spent in the confines of their bed, both sprawled on the then shared comfortable mattress, legs intertwined and bodies covered under mountains of covers(at least she was, Harry never quite minded the cold.) Sometimes he would purposely throw all but one of the covers in the washer, and with the warmth Harry radiated, she would gladly use him as a blanket. He remembers the way she would get excited when there was a new episode of whatever telly show she might’ve been really into at the time, and she would wake him up if he was asleep because ‘Harry there’s a new one! Come watch it with me.’ And he knew it was because she loved sharing that bit of her with him, (also she would use him as her personal pillow), which he can honestly say he didn’t mind at all. Harry remembers the good times, and the bad because they always got through them…he remembers being the happiest with her. But now all he’s left with is those memories, memories that all he can do now is remember.

Y/N thinks just about the same. Except sometimes her thoughts have intruders. She sees him everywhere, not that she would expect any less. But she would at least expect her friends not to mention him every chance they get.

It had been a few weeks since she had seen his face, trying her best to occupy herself with art projects or anything that would take up most of her time. She’s sat down at the local café, a cup of coffee in front of her, untouched and probably luke warm now compared to how scolding it might have been when it was first brought to her. She’s so engrossed in the paper in her hand as she taps the pencil between her fingers on the top of the table, praying to get some idea of what sketch she should work on next.

And she doesn’t know why she looks up, regrets it the second she notices the magazine. The girls couldn’t be more than eighteen years of age. They’re gushing and awe'ing at whatever content the magazine holds inside, but all she’s able to see is a familiar face in an unfamiliar setting.

She remembers. She remembers talks with Harry about what he wanted to do when the hiatus began. She remembers the day he barged into their then shared home in hysterics because “babe I landed it! Christopher Nolan casted me! Isn’t this great!” She remembers his face full of pure excitement, and she also remembers the moments of doubting where he didn’t know if he was going to do a good enough of a job. He’d study his lines every waking moment he could, sometimes going to sleep late because he was practicing different approaches to the scenario. She remembers him saying something about a cover shoot, and that he didn’t wanna spoil too much. Would rather surprise her.

The girls sit in the table in front of hers, their backs to her, and she can clearly see the pictures inside. And she can’t help it. Sits her paper and pencil down, pretends to have some sort of interest in the powder blue cup holding the once warm liquid, her index finger mindlessly running over the rim. Her eyes however divert to the magazine.

And again she remembers. As they flip through the pages to look at the photos, she remembers when Harry took her to his old high school. He would tell her stories about his teachers and his classmates. There’s also the cave. And she doesn’t think she would’ve recognized it if it weren’t for the writing on the cave walls, she was there when he carved his name on them. They keep flipping though the pages, and if her heart hadn’t had enough then, it sure did now. The smile, the sweater…the field. She remembers taking trips to that field with Harry often. Remembers laying with him in the very same ground, soft and warm, talking and just staring out into the openness. They were both wise beyond their years. Knew how everything surrounding them was bigger than them in a way, and it always left them in awe, but wherever they were and however big the world seemed, they had each other. Y/N remembers how happy he made her.

And then she remembers the day she had to walk out.

Harry still thinks about her…a lot. It’s been months, but his mind always comes back to her, remembering their talks as the hours slipped away. He loved their talks the most because they both seemed to be in sync. Her thoughts were always more in depth than anyone else he knew, when they were talking serious matters. They both seemed to value and care for the simple things. Her jokes were just as shit as his, but he laughed them because she laughed at his. She didn’t have to, but she did. He smiles at the mention of her name, it comes to him naturally, like it belongs there when she comes into conversation.

But then his heart aches remembering how everything ended. How she left despite his pleads, but deep down he knew she couldn’t take it anymore, and it would have been selfish of him to ask her to stay. And he realizes he always did have shit timing. Wishes it would’ve been different because he still can’t come to terms that’s he’s lost the one real thing he had going for him. She was real, she was good, and she was his.

Now more than ever Y/N feels the nostalgia. Wishes she had stayed home where there was just about a zero possibility of seeing Harry’s face on that magazine. A new look that suits him because it’s more him than his old record label let him be. But she knows she would have eventually seen it, it’s the Harry Styles effect. Can’t avoid it. And to see him in places that were so special to the both of them after she pushed the memories to the back of her mind is what’s more unsettling.

When Harry came about the idea of the shoot, he knew he wanted to make it personal. Wanted to show the world who he really is, setting aside how much of a surprise it could be, he wanted to be himself. Thinks his fans deserve that and more. So the places and settings for the shoot came to him instantly, all of them holding memories he’ll forever hold close to his heart. And yes, some he subconsciously chose, didn’t remember just how much the field meant until he sees the spread.

He’s thinking about her more than usual now. The hurt washing over him. Looking back, everything happened so fast. There were so many emotions the day she left. He felt absolutely shattered, disconnected…alone. And suddenly he’s missing her even more. Wonders if she’s seen them, what she thinks about them, if she remembers.

She does. Tries so hard not to cry sitting right there in the cafe, her phone in her hands now and a picture of Harry towards the upper left corner of the screen, his contact number screaming out at her. And she knows she should have probably deleted his number from her phone, but she just couldn’t bring herself to it. Knows if she ever needed him he’d be just a phone call away, and vice-versa. Besides it’s not like she could forget them anyway, the numbers long embedded into her memory. Her thumb lingers over the digits none the less, breathing ragged, hoping no one has notified her sudden uneasiness. Should she call him to congratulate him? She doesn’t wanna be a bother, but she wants to tell him she’s proud of him…if he even cares still.

But she knows she can’t speak to him, not when she’s this vulnerable and might just break down in tears at the sound of his voice.

Harry wants to ask her if she’s seen them, wants to tell her she was part of the inspiration. But he doesn’t want to intrude, if she still needs her space. Because that’s what she had said just before he watched her walk out. She needed space. And Harry thought she’d come back to him, but she hasn’t so far. Not a call or a text. The most he regrets, and the hardest to acknowledge, is that she left..and he never got to tell her how strongly he felt about her. And he’d be lying if he didn’t think about it often. Would it have convinced her to stay? If Harry had said those three words, would she have retrieved her hand from the handle and not opened the door? Or would she have dismissed the thought and continued on her way. Regardless of what if’s, one thing is clear to him. Harry loves her. More than she thinks he does. Present tense, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop.

Her thumbs swipe over the keyboard swiftly.

“Congratulations on the cover shoot, Harry. Hope you’re doing well.”


anonymous asked:

Hi! Love your writing :) I really like how you're keeping everyone true to character, especially Bucky. Anyways if you are still accepting prompts: Both Bucky and Darcy are doing reconnaissance for the team (Bucky because of his experience and Darcy because she's the least recognizable and likes to help where she can) and has to go to a party to follow their mark. What happens next is up to you :)

Prompts Status: ACCEPTING

Anonymousasked: Hi! Love your writing :) I really like how you’re keeping everyone true to character, especially Bucky. Anyways if you are still accepting prompts: Both Bucky and Darcy are doing reconnaissance for the team (Bucky because of his experience and Darcy because she’s the least recognizable and likes to help where she can) and has to go to a party to follow their mark. What happens next is up to you :)

Go to a party, she says.

Mingling’s all you have to do, she says.

Barnes has got your back, she says.

Toes stretch forward in an attempt to cross the gap between the two balconies, they are painted lilac (of all the things to notice, this seemed the most trite) and were a match for the flowy dress she was trying to keep from tangling along her legs and sending her to a premature death. Feet find purchase, gathering up momentum she lunges for the rail of the balcony, grasping it firmly between chilled fingers—metal biting again her palm, she holds fast.

Swing her leg over the railing (it took two tries and about ten years off her life) she crouches down—snow is starting to stick to the ground which would make it hard to jump again but this window had no lights on. The third balcony from the room she’d started in just as instructed.

Two fingers to her ear she presses lightly against the commlink, it doesn’t make a sound when channel opens (she resists the urge to say hello to make sure its working, cause she’s better then that—most of the time).

“Barnes, I’m in position.”

He doesn’t reply (maybe he’s dead, maybe he’s been caught, maybe he’s fucking information out of the fake titty hussy from earlier) so she waits and stews.

Natasha was to blame for this, all of it.


It’s a half assed sound of pain (she was in so much pain it had become a hassle to display it) when her back smacked agains the ground for God know’s what time today. Clint is hovering over her, shit eating grin in place, offering a hand up. She has every intention of ignoring it but realizes the bigger hit to her pride would be failing to rise without it.

“Are you even trying anymore?”

“Listen—I’ll let you know when I can feel my ass again.” she retorts bring her fists up to the fighting position she had been taught (read: had beaten into her)

“Half of learning to defend yourself is working through the pain—how would you react against an uncontrolled situation if you don’t know the way pain makes you react.”

“I get it, Nat. I read Tolstoy—the Russians have a beauty in suffering shtick” using her hips to turn into the punch she’s blocked by Clint who just side steps it “And if suffering is beautiful then I’m Helen of Troy right now.”

“Concentrate, Lewis—show me I’m not wasting my time”

(She takes offense to that—what about her time? She’s tired, sore and she hadn’t been laid since Ian broke up with her six months ago—if not for this she could be out getting laid.)

With a cry of frustration she feigns a jab and drops down to a leg swipe that actually connects (hello bruised shins) and while it doesn’t topple Clint it does get him off balance enough to take a knee. He looks about as proud as she feels and they share a high five while Natasha looks on marginally please.

Darcy is spared another round by Hill’s entrance and if she prayed to a God she’d be thanking them right about now, instead she settled for sending a sloppy salute toward the dark haired woman. The thing about Hill is that most people think she’s this no nonsense kinda woman (and don’t get her wrong, she totally fucking is) but none can be that way all the time—even Pepper takes days off. So Darcy was still trying to find the lighter side to Hill (the Maria if you will—ugh, her inner monologue is turning into Dr. Seuss again) thus far no success, but she was nothing if not stubborn.

“Debriefing room, ten minutes.”

She’s picturing a lovely little scene—her with her feet on the coffee table, pizza box opened next to her, no Clint to steal the remote or Steve to complain about the programming, it’s heaven. Then with three words Hill bring it crashing down around her like Helicarriers in Washington.

“You too, Lewis.”

“Crap biscuits.”

Wiggling her toes to stimulate a bit of blood flow to her extremities, wondering what the Stark compensation package for frost bite was, she nearly misses Barnes touching down beside her with a soundless, graceful parkour move. As it was she just bites down the urge to squeak out a noise of surprise, living in building with Clint was good training for resisting jump scares (he came out of the vents sometimes—the vents).

Unfurling from his kneeling position Barnes signals her to wait before she follows, out of his pocket comes a set of lock picks—honest to God, lock picks.

‘Systems coming down in 3…2…1…Soldier you are go for entry.’

Natasha’s voice is the same pseudo-soothing pitch it always is, like she’s just come back from a good lay and Darcy has the strange thought that the Widow would be amazing at phone sex—you know if the career of Super Spy doesn’t pan out, she’d make bank.

“Entry acquired.”

Making a come hither motion with his right hand—she tries really hard to detach the image from the inappropriate thoughts she’d just been having, because Barnes just looks like a bad idea. A bad idea in the best way, the kind of man who women tell fond stories about when too many margaritas are involved. He’s got the broody, tortured hero thing with those too blue eyes and those thighs.

And they’d put the fucker in a tux.

(Yeah, beyond unfair.)

So she’s only been paying attention in the looses sense of the word, it wasn’t for lack of trying though it’s just this is her first time in the briefing room and it’s beyond cool and Hill was giving her the Tony Look—shit, no way she was finding the Maria today. Pointing at a map now, pictures of several men filled the screen adjacent to the map, Hill crosses her arms and cocks her head to signal her to pay attention without ever stopping the presentation.

“Dr. Foster’s research must be recovered or else we’ll risk intergalatic diplomatic issues and I don’t need to fill out any more paper work.”

The have forms for that? Wait, she’s ex-S.H.I.E.L.D they probably had forms for that.

“Which is were you come in, Lewis—you’re an unknown, which should make it easy to gain entry with the right strings pulled, an skilled hacker and familiar enough with Foster’s research to be able to recognize it even if it’s spread out in multiple drives.” (somehow Hill made the fact that she was a nobody, who tended to illegally gain entrance to things and typed up notes sometimes sound amazing, she’d need to have her proof read her resume sometime)

“So what, I use my super-secret-spy skills unknown even to me—get in, get out and do the tango somewhere in between? Whose idea was this anyway?”

“Agent Romanov seemed to think you were the right person for the job. As for a point of entry, Barnes would be your point man.”


Pulling the flash drive from her cleavage, noting the way Barnes looks away in a hurry when her hand comes up to the sweetheart neckline of her dress with a quick little backward glance at the end, she plugs into the the available port and lets the program do it’s job. Doesn’t take long before J.A.R.V.I.S has cracked the entire system wide open—the wonders he could do for the virtual world—and then she’s looking through relevant files as quick as she can.

They’ve broken up Jane’s findings and theories into three parts—but from the looks of it they were heading in a strange direction, she’d never seen Jane group her findings that way. Copying the files into the drive to show Jane later she works on deleting any trace of the documents and her presence. Video logs of tonight would be set on a timer to delete in twenty, per Natasha’s instructions.

Tucking the drive away back with the girls, she gives Barnes the all clear sign.

‘Extraction in fifteen, get a move on guys.’

Back out to the balcony they go, she has an easier time climbing now that Barnes is there to lend her a hand (Darcy is confident he won’t let her plunge to her death) and they make it back quickly to the room she’d snuck off to—it’s looks like a guest bedroom, it’s in the private section of the mansion they’d infiltrated and it had too much of a hotel look if you asked her.

Everything too perfect, what wasn’t perfect was the fact that she couldn’t find her shoes.

‘Soldier, you’ve got incoming—get a move on.’

Natasha orders, no doubt she was still logged into the security feeds.Barnes makes to leave the room, hand coming to grasp her arm with a lighter touch then she expected him to have.

“I need to get my shoes.”

A blank expression comes over his face, one of the three in his repertoire  and here comes number one—mildly annoyed,

“You took of your shoes.”

“Duh, how else was I supposed to do get here?”

“In them.”

“Fuck you, Barnes—I almost died twice without doing that on stilts.” she hisses out in lieu of yelling.

‘Guys, two minutes.’


Backing her up against the wall, stooping closer to her face—close enough she could count those thick lashes of his if they were so distracting—those icy blue eyes are watching her mouth, fingers doing something to her hair and she’s reminded for the second time this week how long it’s been since she’s been laid good and proper (and it’s longer then six months cause Ian was okay, but lacked uhmmm girth).

Done with whatever he was doing to her hair he shrugs off his jacket, tossing it toward the bed then in a move she’d only seen in movies before he scoops her up—her legs instinctively wrap around his trim waist—the door know clicks open as the knob turns and Darcy could swear she hears Barnes apologize before his lips are on her neck.Only it’s more then just lips, it’s his hand on her ass bringing her center closer to his body, it’s the teeth he scrapes against the underside of her jaw. Not one to waste opportunity she weaves her fingers through his hair and brings his mouth to her own in a searing kiss, that he tastes like toothpaste (minty and cool) is all she can register before a throat clearing ends their moment.

“Oh God, not again.” like a wilting flower she tucks her head against his shoulder in a mock show of embarrassment, he lets her down on her own two feet before turning toward the guard—his mouth is stained with her lipstick when he speaks.

“Sorry man, she had too much to drink—brought her to take a breath but you know….we’re newly weds. Saw a bed, couldn’t resist.”

All things considered the guard lets them off easy, clearly not the first time he’s seen this.In the van Natasha doesn’t comment on the way her hair is a mess and one corner of Barnes’ mouth is still stain with her lipstick as they drive off, it’ll be hours before they are back in New York. Settling back into her seat she tries to catch some shut eye (read: avoid looking at Barnes and his stupidly soft lips) eventually she must have managed it cause she wakes up to the sunrising and Barnes jacket covering her up.

anonymous asked:

Hey there! So I'm kind of sloppy with my pattern making and I play it by eye and I know it's not really good to do that, so I was wondering if you guys have any tips on drafting patterns? Your patterns look so neat and clean and you guys do a very nice job of figuring out what needs to go where

There’s a lot to say here and I’m slowly working on a master post for drafting patterns, so for this ask I’m just going to start with the right tools for the job, because that tends to make a huge difference. When Christine taught me how to draft this way, my cosplay game surged. Having the right drafting toolkit is invaluable.

A typical draft for us includes the following tools:

White drawing/sketch paper. We buy this in a 50 yard roll, generally around 36″ wide. You can probably expect to pay about $50 for this, which is a decent start-up cost, but Christine and I have both been working on the same roll for about a year and a half now and we’ve done probably 25+ costumes on it and we’re barely halfway through.

This is the paper you’ll use to draw all your patterns on, flat, without seam allowances. All your patterns should exist primarily on this paper, because they are the foundations of your drafts: if you want to make changes to the pattern, this is where you make them. If you want to add decorative seams on the pattern, this is where you make them. Making your patterns without seam allowance here also means you can “pull” pieces onto the tracing paper with different seam allowances as you so desire.

We also keep these and label ‘em and pull them out again from time to time. Shazz’s Lucina tunic, for example, was initially traced and pulled from a 60s dress pattern that Christine had made for Shazz, and then I refined it down into its own pattern. More recently, I pulled Anna’s sleeves from Say’ri’s sleeves – Emmy and Syd are the same size and the characters have the same style sleeves, so why not? If you’re making costumes primarily for yourself, you might do this a lot, coming back to re-use old drafts or adapt old drafts. If you know they already fit you, might as well!

Tracing paper, typically Borden & Riley #41 tracing paper, bought in 20 yard rolls, 36″ wide. These cost about $15 CND from Curry’s and generally get a good number of costumes out of them; the current roll I’m working on has done almost all of Tiki, Anna, Libra, Say’ri, Ike and Emmeryn. (Not including Tiki or Anna’s capes, including Emmeryn’s cape.) (These also make great gifts for cosplayers, given their functionality and price point.) This paper is what your final patterns are on, traced from the drafts you’ve drawn on the sketch paper – you trace them and add seam allowance as you desire. 

Various quilting rulers. I believe these are called 8th rulers, but I’ve encountered so many names for them that I’m not sure what to call them beyond the quilting umbrella. We like quilting rulers because they typically have a lot of demarkations we use a lot, and they measure across the entire surface of the ruler, rather than just down one edge. I can measure 3/8ths away from an edge (looking through the clear ruler) and then draw a straight line that is exactly 3/8ths away – that kind of thing. Something like these Westcott ones in 18″ and 26″ are great.

A french curve. With enough practice you can draw curves like a beast with a straight quilting ruler, but a french curve will help you get all those angles. Plastic three-piece kits like this one are cheap but invaluable; I think I’ve been using the same $3 ruler set for like ten years now.

A large eraser. You’ll make changes. You will. Standard Staedtler white erasers are my favourite.

Mechanical pencils. Don’t use regular pencils. A 0.5mm mechanical pencil will prevent you from constantly running to the sharpener and your lines will be neater, thinner and hopefully smudge less. Regular pencils will get you dull lines as they lose their sharpness.

A big surface to work on. Currently it’s the kitchen table for us, but when necessary we will spread out on the hard floor; try to avoid this whenever possible because it will hurt your back and knees over time. You may want to acquire a large folding worktable or find some sort of dedicated surface to work on that isn’t your kitchen table, too; my table is 10+ years old and looks like hell already so I don’t mind working on it, but lots of craft work will eventually damage the surface. The poor thing gets wiped down from graphite and pencil nicks and whatever all the time. 

Good lighting. We don’t have this and it is slowly killing me.

Scotch tape. Sometimes we use the tracing paper to trace an element, mirror it (flip the paper over) and then tape it to another part of the pattern to repeat something. Alternately, we sometimes use it to trace and element and then MOVE it in the pattern. Notice how in that image I wasn’t using scotch tape? That’s because I was out of scotch tape. Scotch tape is neater and thinner, and while harder to reposition than masking tape, a lot less distracting/ugly.

A flexible tape measure. Need to make sure two seams are the same length? This guy. Need to do a long distance your quilting ruler can’t cover? Make notches along the way with this guy. Need to figure out a measurement on yourself and transfer it to paper? This guy.

Paper scissors. Sing it with me: you never, ever, ever cut paper with your fabric scissors. Keep dedicated paper scissors and dedicated fabric scissors and never, ever cross over. In this household, we mark the handles of paper scissors with white electrical tape. You know there are commercial locks on the market specifically to lock your sewing scissors together to prevent the ignorant from using your sewing scissors to hack into cardboard? I’m serious. They’re wonderful.

Some sort of filing system. Patterns are very easy to lose. We use standard 8x11.5″ envelopes for our patterns, sometimes larger/thicker for bigger projects. If a pattern is not in use, it goes in envelope – no excuses, don’t lose pieces. (But hey, if you do… you can trace another off your draft!)

Some sort of labelling system. Nothing sucks more than unfolding a dozen drafting papers trying to find so-and-so’s shirt or so-and-so’s pants ‘cause later down the line you realized you could use it again… if you could find it. 

Anyway, them’s the basics :) I’ll try to follow up soonish with more on this subject, because I honestly think it’s the most helpful thing I’ve learned in this hobby, hands down.

- Jenn

A Serial Killer’s Guide to Love and Murder

Fandom: Gotham

Character: Victor Zsasz

Reader Gender: Female

Summary: You’ve had your eyes on Victor Zsasz for a while now, and he’s had his eyes on you. So what makes you two finally make some kind of move? And what possesses you to actually fall in love with a serial killer anyway? 

Warnings: Heavy swearing, blood, violence, if you aren’t one for cheesy cliches but with murder involved then this might not be for you  

Word Count: 3401

Author’s Note: This shouldn’t be taken seriously and was honestly just a funny idea I had, I might make a more serious one in the future though and I also have a more serious Edward Nygma one in the works featuring a murderer reader and maybe a Kristen Kringle thing so stay tuned for that haha! I am also still taking requests as well! Also, sorry for the shitty title reference, but if you get it, props to you 

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I’ll Work When I Have Time-Scott McCall

Teen Wolf Imagine:#40 Prompt:#9

Word Count:520

Warnings: None that I can think of…

A/n: So this marks 40 imagines, that’s so crazy to me. But that also means that I have burned through my upcoming list and need to start a new one! That will be up soon. The upcoming list is just a guide and it is subject to change depending on inspiration. I am also working on a recommendations page and post of all my favorite writing bloggers and my favorite stories as of this moment, nothing will ever be removed from the list but things will be added so check back often! Sorry for this note becoming an information session but now you know!

Also don’t forget that I do accept requests though at this time they are still limited to the 4 characters I have been writing (Isaac, Brett, Stiles, Scott)


Coming Soon


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Professors Don’t Do Promposals (VMin)

☛ The two times Taehyung not-so-subtly hints that he wants Jimin to ask him to prom and the one time Jimin does.
✘ 1.1k words; college professors AU, fluff, VMinWeek Round 1, Prompt 2

“I swear to god, if I see one more ridiculous promposal around every corner of this damn educational institution, I’m handing in my papers.”

Jimin puts down his copy of Pride and Prejudice and looks over at Taehyung, amused.

“It’s only lunch,” Jimin grins, sipping the shitty coffee the sad looking coffee maker at the corner of the staff room had managed to make. “There’s plenty of scope yet.”

“Teenagers and their need to tack self approval on their love lives,” Taehyung sighs dramatically, biting into his massive cheeseburger. Jimin clicks his tongue, leaning back on his chair.

“I’m assuming you don’t enjoy prom season as much as the kids do.”

“There’s glitter in the corridors, Jimin. And a unicorn cut out from god knows where.” Jimin laughs just as the bell rings for class.

“All essential at winning his or her heart for the big night, I suppose,” Jimin says, getting up and collecting his books, abandoning the horrendous excuse for coffee. “Come on, my class is right next to the lab, I’ll walk you.”

Taehyung groans and gets up as well, wolfing down the last of the cheeseburger because who knows when he’d have another chance at food again. He takes Jimin’s books from his hand and Jimin lets him carry them.

“Is this because you’re an English teacher? The romantic in you saying that all this is necessary for a glorified night of dancing with cheap music and cheaper lighting?” Taehyung asks, holding the staff room door open for Jimin, who tilts his head in thanks. Someone down the corridor whistles, but Taehyung ignores it.

“Why don’t you like prom season? The Biology teacher in you saying young love is an inherent malfunction of the human nervous system?” Jimin shoots back as they walk down the corridor to get to their classes.

“As if,” Taehyung smirks as they approach their respective.

“Or is it because you don’t have a date yet?” Jimin asks, wiggling his eyebrows when Taehyung opens the door to Jimin’s classroom for him which is already packed with very noisy teenagers who didn’t want to be there.

“I’ll have you know, I’m perfectly capable of getting a date,” Taehyung says, blushing furiously and setting down Jimin’s books on the teacher’s table. Jimin snorts.

“And who were you planning on asking? The strapping lab assistant organizing your frog samples?”

Taehyung winks at Jimin, leaning down to level his eyes. “You seem like you’d fit the role, amazing dancer as I’ve heard you are.”

Jimin blushes and opens his mouth to reply just as Taehyung realizes how quiet the room has gotten and the entire class is looking at the two of them with the same knowing grin on their faces.

And then the cheering and wolf whistling begins.

“Um, I- ”

“Goodbye, Taehyung,” Jimin says, groaning and nearly shoving Taehyung out of the door.

“I can’t believe I test these children,” Jimin groans, sifting through the huge pile of papers in front of him he had no hope of finishing any time before 9 PM.

“Tell me about it. It’s like I want to got through hours of excruciating correction and get disappointed about how they still can’t spell ‘photosynthesis’ right,” Taehyung sighs, trying not to drown in his own pile of correction.

“It’s pretty late, I think we should just call it a day,” Jimin says, glancing at his watch and closing his eyes in disgust. Taehyung hums in agreement, stacking up the papers on his desk and shoving them into his work bag.

It’s already dark outside when they both step out into the summer night and they both make their way to the bus stand in relative silence. Taehyung knows Jimin’s bus will come five minutes earlier than his own like it always does, which means it’s probably going to be here any minute.

“They won’t shut up about us now, thanks to you. They’re actually placing bets on how long it’ll take for us to get together. Something about ‘shipping or whatever they call it these days,” Jimin says at last, breaking the silence.

“Huh?” Taehyung says distractedly because he’s been staring at Jimin’s eyelashes the whole time and how long and pretty they are.

“Because of last week,” Jimin explains, light pink tainting his cheeks and under the street lights, Taehyung wants to maybe, kind of kiss Jimin looking like that right now.

“Prom’s in two days,” Taehyung says instead as Jimin’s bus pulls up and Jimin rises to board it.

“I wasn’t kidding about asking you before, you know,” Taehyung yells just before the bus doors close and he can just make out the surprise in Jimin’s expression as it pulls away.

“So the enzyme proteins in lysosomes will- ”

“Kim Taehyung shi.”

Taehyung stops lecturing and turns around to find Jimin standing at the class door with his hands behind his back and suddenly the whispering in the class intensifies.

“Jimin?” Taehyung blinks, confused. “I’m teaching right now, what do you- ”

Jimin looks like he doesn’t register a word, the way he stalks to the front of the class till his face is a breath away from Taehyung and his fist clutching Taehyung’s tie and tugging him down. Taehyung just has time to catch his breath before Jimin’s lips find Taehyung’s. It’s only a light brush, only a second long but it’s enough for Taehyung to feel dizzy from the fluttering sensation in his stomach, warm and liquid and perfect.

“He did it, oh my god- ”

“Finally, I thought they’d never- ”

“Where’s my ten bucks, you- ”

Taehyung grins and Jimin hands him a single red rose. The cheering comes to the point of utter chaos.

“Since you’re not into promposals, I thought of the next best thing,” Jimin smirks.

“Embarrassing me in front of my class in between a lecture on dying cells?” Taehyung asks, flicking Jimin’s forehead.

“It was either this or the glitter and unicorns, Kim Taehyung.”

“You still haven’t actually asked me to prom,” Taehyung shoots back and Jimin rolls his eyes.

“We’re not children, Tae, it’s a given.”

“Still,” Taehyung pouts as Jimin backs away and waves.

“Continue with your class, Taehyung shi,” Jimin says sweetly, shutting the door softly behind him. Taehyung groans and turns back to the chaotic class.

“Like I was saying, proteins in the lysosomes- ”

Taehyung is pretty sure no one is going to pay attention to a word he says today but it’s okay because that gives him an excuse to think about Jimin on a ‘glorified night of dancing with cheap music and cheaper lighting’.

It’s really not so bad.

TITLE: Happiness

SUMMARY: Shikamaru learns that he loves his life even more on the day of his birthday.


A/N: Hello! Just here posting a short story for Shikamaru on his birthday!!! He is like the ultimate BABE!! Like, seriously! I just love him so much!!!!


Nara Shikamaru was a man of many things that he found troublesome. He became Chunin without ever trying, became team leader in every mission without even asking for it, and also became a secretary for the Hokage without ever thinking about the position before. But to make it even more troublesome, he married a woman that was the total opposite of his ideal girl and even produced a what-his comrades-called; a duplicate of himself. Nevertheless, he loved his life and his family choice because he thought no one could have it better than he did.

So when his 30th birthday came around, Shikamaru did not expect much from anyone close to him. He didn’t mind that all he got that morning before going to work was a ‘Happy Birthday, Hunnie,’ and a ‘Good morning, old man,’ from his wife and son. He learned to treasure the littlest things.

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Art by the amazing @fluorescentwolf!

It started with a few lines in the middle of a letter.

And please tell Grog that I miss him so much. Things are still very busy with the temple, and I am picking up lots of boulders all by myself. There’s a few that are too big for me though, and if he doesn’t come and visit soon, I’m going to get Kern to come help instead.

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anonymous asked:

what are the chances of you writing the next part of the blind!Percy au? I need to know what happens next! (Great writing, btw. :D )

Pretty damn good, anon. (Part 1, Part 2; this part 3 comes right after 2, but 1 is set some months in the future.)


The next time Annabeth sees him, it’s not until a month later. She’s just left her session with the kids in the pediatric wing and has about two hours before she has to run to class when she turns a corner too fast, occupied with the clutter of paper and notebooks and folders in her arms, and runs right into him. Again.

Her papers hit the ground and scatter across the hallway. When she sees that it’s him—sees the concern hidden in the blush pinching at his cheeks—she can’t stop the stupid, surprised giggle that makes its way out of her mouth. “I don’t know why this keeps happening,” she tells him, kneeling so that she can start to pick up what feels like hundreds of pages now that they’re all spread out on the floor.

The guy laughs. He nudges his dog to the side and bends to help her, brushing his fingertips across the floor and collecting a few of her notebooks. “You should probably watch where you’re going.”

“Says you.”

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New You Snakeskin Spell

Hey all, I’m ready with my first original spell! I’m writing this to perform in the next week or so for the new year, but it is a spell that can be used anytime you decide that it’s time for a serious change in your life. This spell will let you shed the old you, and all the specific qualities you are ready to , be rid of, and step forward as your new, shiny self!


  • A poppet or some representation of yourself
  • Wrapping paper or some shiny/colorful paper
  • Brown bag
  • Scissors
  • Tape
  • Sharpie or markers
  • A candle, if you want one
  • A safe bowl for burning a piece of paper, or another form of destruction. If you burn it, please have water handy and take necessary precautions!


  1. Prepare your poppet as a representation of you, at your core. These are things that will not change about you.
  2. Wrap the poppet in your shiny, beautiful paper. Use the markers to write out on it all of the skills and traits that you want to have shine in the coming year, the qualities of your best self, and things you want to work on. These should be things you want on display for the world to see. (Bonus points if you use color correspondences here!)
  3. Now, wrap over the shiny paper with the brown paper. Cover this layer of skin with the things that no longer serve you, traits you want to minimize, and anything else you want to shed off with your old skin.
  4. Here is where I will probably light a candle, because having a lit candle nearby simply helps me get into the witchy zone and visualize energy much better.
  5. Slowly peel the old, dull skin off of your poppet, revealing the new skin underneath.  Visualize yourself shedding the old, the negative; and your best self emerging from underneath. As you shed and visualize, you may chant: “I am not who I was. I am who I decide to be.”
  6. Burn or otherwise destroy the old skin; release those qualities from yourself, and admire the beautiful you that remains (who you are at your core and who you choose to be).

A note: If you want to be extra fancy, your shiny paper can have color and/or image correspondences as well! Personally, since the holidays just ended, I plan to just use my leftover wrapping paper.





AND THEN DANNY (yes normal put back together danny…or technically when both fun and super are working together to defeat technus 2.0 ..anyway) IS THE EGO AKA THE REFEREE WHO LISTENS TO BOTH AND DECIDES WHAT ACTIONS SHOULD BE TAKEN