speaker stands

Fanfiction - Fairplay (College AU)


“And the teams are out on the field, looking decided - and pretty scary if you ask me! Jamie “King of Men” Fraser leading Oxford and Tom Christie commanding the Edinburgh fellows!” The speaker roared, as the stands applauded and cheered, a jungle of whistles and shouts of incentive. “You can tell the rivalry is strong in this one - the winning team today will definitely be the front runner heading to the Championships next month!”

“Jamie looks focused.” Ian commented next to Claire, clapping as the Oxford team players were announced by the speaker. “And Christie looks like gloom and doom – I bet he isna up to anything good.”

“I’m sure our team will handle it.” Claire replied, adjusting her sunglasses – the sun was out that morning, apparently eager to pay testimony to a much anticipated rugby game. As Jamie’s name was called and he briefly waved at the crowd, screams and chanting enhanced tenfold, as if the volume switch had been turned to maximum. “Is that the new player?” She asked curious, noticing the young man sitting on the bench, his blonde hair glowing like a marigold in the sunlight.

“Aye.” Ian smiled. “John Grey was the one drafted – too bad there wasna enough time for him to become better acquainted with the team. Our current scrum half is rubbish and John seems to be a great player.”

“What a shame!” Claire agreed. Jamie and Tom approached the centre of the field to shake hands, a duel of crushing grips, their eyes locking with unspoken promises of a ruthless game.

The Edinburgh team kicked off with brutal intensity, taking the lead with an early drop goal. Tom Christie was indeed a good player, Claire had to recognize – he seemed to make the rest of his colleagues better just by interacting with them, pushing them to their limits – a lot like Jamie did.

“It seems like Fraser was just warming up!” The speaker pointed with excitement in his voice. “He is leading the team to a try – the Edinburgh boys will need to catch a ride with a motorcycle to be able to get to him!” And soon enough Jamie grounded the ball over the opponent’s goal line, awakening huge clamours from the cheering crowd.

The next few minutes were hectic, with both teams achieving scoring points – they were fairly equated, both having some weaknesses and a couple of extraordinary players. The game became rougher, with a couple of ugly tackles taking place, the nastier one inflicted by Christie on Jamie. Claire’s heart tightened when she saw him projected in the air – echoes of the game with Northumbria and his head injury racing through her mind – but he promptly got up and raised a thumb to ease the mind of the howling crowd. They reached the halftime with Edinburgh on the lead, having been awarded a penalty point after an infringement from Oxford’s scrum half.

“I canna believe we might lose this!” Ian clenched his teeth, looking thoroughly annoyed. “I canna stand the idea of Tom Christie prancing about our campus, gloating after their victory!”

“It’s not over yet.” She said in a cheerful tone, looking as Jamie talked and gesticulated with the coach. He seemed irritated with something and kept throwing evaluating looks at their scrum half and then at John Grey. “I think we might be in for a surprise.”

When the halftime was over, the substitution was made – clearly a joint decision from Jamie and the coach - and John Grey entered the field for the first time wearing Oxford’s colours, looking pale but decided.

As soon as they made the formation, Grey threw the ball into it and moved as lightening to the hindmost foot of the scrum, neatly picking up the ball and passing it - like a guided missile - to the hands of Oxford’s fly half, the captain himself, Jamie Fraser. With the proceeding game, it became quite clear that Grey was not only an outstanding player – with a knack for impossible passes and agile as a gazelle in avoiding Christie’s tackles -, but also that he and Jamie were meant to play together. They seemed to predict each other’s moves with easiness and stormed the field like dancers in a physical duet, battering the Edinburgh team’s lines and inspiring the rest of Oxford’s players. A short stretch of time was enough for them to recover from the disadvantage at the score board, sealed with a mind-blowing drop goal that made the fans go crazy.

Chanting propagated like a tribal calling in the stands, encouraging both Jamie and John, which by then had already earned the right of a nom de guerre – John “The Lord” Grey.

When the referee blew the whistle to signal the end of the game, a joyful wave of blue crashed on the grass, as Oxford’s players ran and jumped on top of Jamie and John – the solid foundation of a victorious human pyramid. Claire looked around, grinning as Ian fist bumped the air – her heart overflowing with pride, noticing the gigantic smiles all around her. Jamie was hugging an incredulous John, complimenting him on his achievements – the promise of a legendary friendship being born on a cloudless day.


“You’re late.” Claire announced, as Jamie arrived half running, his hair flaming on the light of dusk - as if the sun was setting inside him.

“I’m sorry, mo nighean donn.” He kissed her forehead in apology, as she pursued her lips and began the task of fixing the collar of his shirt. “I went for a run with John and lost track of time discussing some tactics.”

“That’s alright.” She sighed, bumping his nose. “Ian called to say he’ll be meeting us there. Is John coming too?”

“Aye.” Jamie caught her hand and entwined their fingers, as they began to walk together. It was the college’s anniversary – a big milestone, even for such an ancient institution – and a fancy party was taking place in the Main Hall, where lots of prominent students and alumnae would be gathered to celebrate. “He went to his dorm to shower and will meet us there.”

“You quite like him, don’t you?” Claire asked, caressing the back of his hand with her thumb. “You two became quite close in this last month – always training together and talking.”

“John is a kind, good-hearted, man.” Jamie agreed. “Talking to him always seems easy and uncomplicated – a lot like talking to you, actually.” He smiled, the corner of his mouth twitching. “And we’re much stronger as a team since he came on board. We might actually have a chance at the Championships.”

“Should I be jealous?” She elbowed him, playfully, in a mock pretence of grievance. “You have been spending more time with him than me, that’s for sure.”

“John Grey might be an interesting lad and a good friend.” He let go of her hand and held her by the waist, the tip of his fingers brushing the curve of her buttock, hidden under the emerald green fabric of her cocktail dress. “But he doesna have an arse like yers, Sassenach. You will always be number one in my book, especially when ye wear such a nice dress – A Dhia, I can feel ye underneath it. Do we really have to go anywhere at all?”

“Always making me feel special.” Claire replied dramatically, offering him a light peck on the lips – careful not to smudge her discrete lipstick – and then a possessive squeeze of his own hardened and well-shaped derrière. “Enough time for me to wear your shirt later.”

The vast room was already filled with people, wearing unusually elegant garments – girls with dresses of vivid colours, forming a spontaneous bouquet against the blooming light of chandeliers and sparkling glasses – luring men in their suits with promises of hidden secrets. Jazz music played in the background, setting the rhythm to conversations and filling the gaps of silence in some awkward exchanges.

Claire and Jamie smiled to a couple of acquaintances and waved to some colleagues, as they made their way into the heart of the party. They were standing close together, talking about Claire’s classes, when a male voice imposed over their conversation.

“Claire?” Frank Randall smiled at her, his brows furrowing when he glanced at Jamie from the corner of his eye. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hello, Frank.” She greeted him, turning around. “It’s nice to see you too.”

“Fraser.” Frank acknowledge Jamie with a small nod of his head, his thin lips forming a weak attempt at a pleasant smile. “Congratulations on that fantastic game with Edinburgh last month. Very well played.”

“Thank ye, Professor Randall.” Jamie gave him a relaxed smile and turned to Claire. “Mo nighean donn, I think I’ll go and say hello to Ian and John. I’ll see ye in a bit.” He kissed her cheek and squeezed her fingers in goodbye, offering her strength – reassuring her of his trust and love – and walked away, towering over the crowd.

“I was wondering…” Frank hawked, his fingers fidgeting with the glass of champagne he was holding. “If we could talk.”

“We are already talking, I daresay.” Claire pointed, accepting a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, offered by a passing waiter. “What is it, Frank?”

“Ah – yes.” He licked his lips, quickly looking around them, scanning for anyone within earshot. ““It has become my understanding that you and James Fraser are dating.” He said in a hurry, as if he was running away from his own words. “Is it serious?”

“I don’t see how that would be any of your business.” Claire replied in a dry tone, raising a brow. “We haven’t been together in a long time, Frank. But yes - everybody knows Jamie is my – very serious - boyfriend. It’s not exactly a secret.”

“I see.” He swallowed hard, avoiding her piercing amber eyes, and glancing at her silver ring. “I thought maybe it was a fleeting dalliance. I believed you fancied someone more refined – more polished.”

“Is that what you are?” Claire asked gently, anger and resentment completely absent from her words. “Because I was under the impression things didn’t work out between us – and not by any fault of mine, Frank. If only you had been happy sleeping with one student at a time, perhaps we would be together until this day.”

“I deserve that.” Frank pinched his nose with his skinny fingers. “I was terribly foolish to hurt you, Claire. You are, by far, the most singular woman I ever met.”

“I’m happy you did.” She said softly, looking intently at him. “I only met Jamie because of it – and everything that led me to him has my deepest gratitude.”

“I was under the impression you still had some…feelings for me.” He whispered in a strained voice. “You are always so charming and pleasant every time we meet and have a conversation.”

“I’m over you, Frank.” Claire affirmed, trying to infuse some kindness into the situation, but getting increasingly more uncomfortable. “That’s why I’m nice when we talk. I don’t have any repressed feelings – no secret expectations of you wanting me back. You were important to me, once – I offer you the respect that position deserves. Nothing less – nothing more.”

“I have seen how you look at him. The pride and joy in your eyes.” Frank bit his words. “Did you ever love me?”

“I did.” She whispered, softly. “But not like that – not how I love him.”

“He knows about us, doesn’t he?” He brushed his short dark hair. “And yet he left you with me. Maybe he doesn’t care all that much.”

“What we have has no room for mistrust or lies.” She smiled, distracted, her eyes already searching for Jamie amongst the crowd. “He left because he respects me. Because he trusts me – us - with all his heart.”

“I wish you happiness, Claire.” Frank finally turned away, hiding the pain in his eyes.

“Be happy too, Frank.” She tilted her head. “As I am.”


Claire searched for Jamie inside the room – spending quite some time in pushing through the animated crowd and stopping to exchange pleasantries with teachers from the medical department, some already quite inebriated. He was nowhere within sight, so Claire decided to search for him outside.

When the big oak doors caved under the pressure of her hands, she was saluted by the night’s cold breeze, the taste of oranges and jasmine on the back of her throat. It seemed like the party had extended beyond the premises of the Hall - students were scattered in the lawn in front of the building, laughing and talking in small groups.

She spotted Jamie – looking magnificent in his grey suit pants and light blue shirt - talking to John – clad in black and grey - under the shadows of a cypress. They were tall and beautiful, like legends of days long forgotten, best friends in times of peace and warriors when the occasion called for such actions. John was talking rapidly to Jamie, who seemed to be entirely amused by whatever was being said. Eventually he whispered back to John and they both laughed together.

Claire could tell the moment Jamie had spotted her – even at distance his eyes seemed to soften and the corners of his mouth were pushed on an eager smile. He patted John’s back in farewell and started to walk towards her.

For an instant she could see John Grey, left behind as Jamie made his way to her, and a shiver shot through her spine. It was like looking into a strange mirror - his eyes betrayed exactly the same desire and adoration that could be found within her own.

Ideal (Chicago P.D.)

Title: Ideal

Fandom: Chicago P.D.

Rating: T/PG-13

Author’s Note: I probably watched one too many romantic dramas this weekend, but I was trying to make myself feel better after the announcement about Sophia’s departure. To me, the best case scenario we can hope for after 4x23 (and given Sophia may be coming back for a few episodes in S5) is a follow-up to Erin and Jay’s conversation in 4x21 about ideal living situations so this is what I came up with.

She will never get used to the hustle and bustle of this city - the constant honking of car horns, the way people push past each other on crowded sidewalks without the apology that comes with Midwestern nicety, the thin crust pizza being hawked by the slice at the same cart selling skinny hot dogs that don’t deserve to be called sausage or bratwurst, the turf wars among precincts over which borough they serve, or the tunnel vision the highrises create making it is impossible to see city landmarks.

That last change was - is - probably the hardest to adapt to because it used to be she walk down the back steps of the District or swing by Firehouse 51 or chase down a suspect and be able to see Sears Tower standing up straight. Offering orientation as she floored the 300 or the Sierra or as she hopped over a fence in a foot chase. Now? Now she orients herself by the number of blocks to the FBI’s headquarters, by the coffee shops and hole in the way restaurants that Lieutenant Benson pointed out to her the night she arrived in New York City with Hank’s admonishment not to look back still ringing in her ears.

Advice Hank himself hadn’t followed given that Benson was waiting for her at baggage claim, that the first person she saw upon arrival was someone from her past. It had been Benson who helped her find a place - one that was smaller than her condo in Chicago and without the floor to ceiling windows or the fireplace, but in a neighborhood that didn’t feel quite so sterile or gentrified as the place the FBI set her up with. It had been Benson who took her out to the coffee shop around the corner from her new apartment and offered her a position in her own unit. Offered to open up doors for her at the NYPD that would let her out of a life spent in starched, white blouses and pantsuits.

But she had to pass, had to take Hank’s advice that she not look back because she couldn’t imagine facing the kind of monsters like Yates every single day. Couldn’t handle the mental mindfuck that would come every time a woman was brutalized that way Nadia had been. And she had to keep the deal she made five months ago. Five months, eleven days, and six hours ago.

So much for not looking back.

Keep reading



A/N: I’m finally back with Part 2! Thank you everyone, for the positive feedback for part one! I’m glad all of you are enjoying this series so far. As of now, I’ve added Taeyeon in as well, hopefully she’ll spice things up as well ;) remember to leave feedback after reading, much love! Happy reading x

Genre: Dystopian/Action/Smut in later parts

Word Count: 10,103

Soundtrack: Yellow Flicker Beat // Lorde

Synopsis: In the land of Exotica, thirteen kingdoms reign. Thirteen different types of bestowed powers, thirteen different types of abilities, thirteen different types of gifts. In this world, everybody is bestowed with only one ability. So what happens when The Chosen One is discovered to possess all thirteen powers at once?

Originally posted by quinseokdo

Part 1 | PART 2

‘Your words cut deeper than any one your knives, Your Highness’.

My heart is still racing by the time I speed-walk over the boundary and back into the territory of the Peace Kingdoms, perspiration forming at the nape of my neck and causing my ruffled silver hair to stick to me like a second skin. I can still feel the raging heat of Jongdae’s lightning creeping beneath my skin, the hairs on my arms standing on end.

Never before have I indulged in a full-on battle with the people of the Bloodbath Kingdoms. The fact that I went in without proper backup and still managed to thrash two of them sends chills down my rigid spine; what if I wasn’t powerful enough? What if I couldn’t handle them? What if they actually tore me to shreds in the exact way the nobles mentioned? If I were less weak, less knowledgeable about my ability, I could be dead by now.

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Political Animals-Part 3

This is an A/B/O AU.  You are the Omega artist daughter of Naomi Novak, a world-class heart surgeon who is running  for Mayor of New York City.  After a meeting where your mother’s advisors call you a “liability”, she tells you that if you don’t do as your told she will cut you off.  You storm out and wind up in a bar a few blocks away.

The hottest Alpha you have EVER laid eyes on with a scent so mouthwatering you’re practically drooling offers to buy you a drink.  It’s just a drink, right? What do you have to lose? Only everything.

Characters: Omega! Reader, Beta! Naomi Novak, Alpha! Castiel Novak, Omega! Meg Novak, Claire Novak, Jimmy Novak, Alpha! Sam Winchester, Alpha! Dean Winchester, Alpha! John Winchester

Big thanks to @moansmisha  for letting me use some of her ideas from this post

Part 1 (all parts are linked)

Sam Winchester always followed the rules. It stemmed from growing up with a policeman and former Marine for a father. Sam was neat, organized, precise and always on time. He excelled in school and knew at a young age that he wanted to be a lawyer. His perfect grades and stellar test scores practically guaranteed a free ride to an ivy league school.

Then two things happened that altered the course of his life forever: he presented as an Alpha and his mother was killed in a car crash. Sam went wild with grief.  By this time his father was the police commissioner of New York City, and his brother Dean was training to become a mechanic.

Fueled by rage and hormones, he worked his way through most of the unmated Omegas in the city. It was only when he met a pretty blond Omega named Jessica Moore did he finally find peace.

They dated for several years, and Sam eventually did become a lawyer, but the relationship ran its course over time. Sam and Jess parted as friends and he threw himself into his work. Fifteen hour days became commonplace.

Dean’s girlfriend Jo Harvelle made it her mission to find him a mate but so far she hadn’t succeeded. Sam doubted she ever would. He began to think he was meant to be alone.

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Haikyuu!! Characters when they Lose their Kids in the Store
  • Hinata: Freaks out and runs around the store screaming their name and stopping everyone to ask if they've seen his baby.
  • Kageyama: Panics if he doesn't see his kid in five seconds. Wanders around the store until an employee asks if he needs help and he mumbles that he lost his kid.
  • Suga: Waits at their designated meeting spot with some ice cream.
  • Daichi: Heads to the toy aisle and finds his kid staring at a huge teddy bear. He buys it for them.
  • Tsukishima: Finds his kid in the dinosaur aisle.
  • Yamaguchi: Arrives at the front desk at the same time as his kid.
  • Asahi: Becomes very worried, and shyly approaches an employee to ask for help.
  • Nishinoya: Loudly shouts his kid's name. The kid yells back from across the store.
  • Kuroo: Tries to remain calm, and walks quickly down every single aisle until he finds them.
  • Kenma: Gets himself lost and his kid goes to the front to call his name on the speakers.
  • Lev: Finds them pretty quickly cause he's tall.
  • Morisuke: Buys a box of cookies and sees his kid come barreling down the aisle.
  • Oikawa: Freaks out and calls Iwa-chan because "his beautiful angel" is missing.
  • Iwaizumi: Buckles his kid into the shopping cart so the kid wont get lost.
  • Akaashi: Heads to the front desk to ask them to call his kid's name over the speakers.
  • Bokuto: Stands on the counter and yells his kids name until an employee asks him to get down.
  • Ushijima: Calmly retraces his steps and finds his child standing right where he left them.
Getting Together Masterlist (2)

21 by thecruciblegavemeyou 

itd been years since i defeated the humdrum, since i left watford, and since i moved in with penny. most importantly, itd been years since id had to deal with baz.

i was finally about to turn 21, and i cant wait to see who’s body i wake up in.

AU in which Simon is an idiot by snowkatze

Simon doesn’t spend his christmas with Baz, but with Agatha. Here is what happens when they reunite.

how to hold a memory by rosebudbasilton 

One last thing, before the slate is wiped clean. One last memory of Simon Salisbury.

Opposite Day by bazyounumpty

I’m a mess by the time I reach the room. My knuckles are bleeding from the walls I’ve been grazing them along, and my hair raw and dry from the amount of times I’ve raked a hand through it. I don’t even want to think about my face. I haven’t cried, but it wouldn’t take an idiot to see that I’ve worked myself into a state.

Sign Your Name Across My Heart by arituzz 

The name of your soulmate will appear on your chest the day you turn eighteen. Simon is taken aback when he sees his. Baz doesn’t know whether to feel hope or drown in his own sorrow.

Slipped And Fell For You by billsydoestuff

The overhead lights buzz with the old 80s music playing in the overhead speakers as I stand at the counter, bored out of my mind. It’s only been a few minutes since the last costumer, but it feels like it has been ages since I’ve seen anyone.

The Curious Incident Concerning Baz Pitch, Simon Snow, and a Bag of Candy Canes by cchasingwords

Take that, Baz thought as he ground his foot into the gas pedal and sped past the black car into the only 2-hour-long parking spot in the lot. He turned around in his seat and looked over his shoulder, just in time to see the driver throw a nasty glare his way. Baz smirked. Sucks for you.

the habits of a heart by admlynch

baz doesn’t believe in love or soulmates but that doesn’t change the fact that he has one

With Any Luck by bazsnowsimonpitch

Baz was better at being discreet when he’s staring across a bar. Simon isnt.

Sara checked her omni-tool for what felt like the hundredth time, sitting at the bar in Vortex on the Nexus. Scott was supposed to be here a half an hour ago, but he still hadn’t showed, nor had he sent her any kind of message saying he was going to late. An errant thought that he was in the medbay again crossed her mind and she pushed down the fear that always came with the thought. He was still recovering from his ordeal with the Archon; migraines were common and debilitating and he was sleeping more than usual, but Harry and Lexi both said he was on the road to a full recover, that it would just take time.

They had been talking about Scott possibly joining the Tempest when he was 100% again, Cora making hints at possibly stepping down as her second and joining an Asari exploration team of Meridian. They had found a flower that had closely resembled a rose and it had piqued her interest, even though the bloom in question was blue and glowed in the dark with a type of shimmering bio-luminescence.

“Another whiskey, Pathfinder?” Dutch asked but she shook her head, swirling the amber liquid around the glass.

“Still working on this one, Dutch, but thanks.” She said taking a sip, feeling it burn down her throat. It was something distilled from ingredients found on Havarl and left a tingle in the back of the throat that was different, but not unpleasant.

“You look like you’re waiting for someone.” The voice made her stop and sit up and she spun in the chair, seeing the speaker standing there with a small smile on his lips. Scott was standing just behind him, his grin a little more shit-eating.

“Reyes!” She exclaimed and was out of her chair and into his arms, feeling his wide smile against the side of her head as he held her tight. Pulling away slightly, she pressed her lips to his in a kiss he immediately returned and she giggled against his lips. He caught her as she hopped up, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Get a room!” Scott heckled and she flipped him off, making him laugh.

“Wait!” Sara said, breaking the kiss and looking down at him, “What’re you doing here? You’re technically an Exile!”

“Technically, yes.” Reyes said.

“Reyes didn’t participate in the revolt, so Tann gave the go-ahead to allow him on station.” Scott said, “We would have gotten him here even if he hadn’t, to be honest.”

“We?” Sara asked, looking back and forth between her brother and her boyfriend.

“Vetra had a backup plan and Jaal was going to pull strings with the Angara to have him declared an Angaran-Human Liaison.” Scott said and she looked at Reyes.


“Keema.” Reyes said with a nod, letting her down as she found her footing again. His hands moved from her back to slide into the back pockets of her pants and a shiver raced up her spine, the amber of his eyes becoming as warm and rich as honey as he looked down at her.

“You know what I just realized.” Sara said and he tilted his head at her in question. “You’ve never seen the inside of the Tempest.”

“You’re right, I haven’t.” Reyes said.

“Travesty, that.”

“Almost criminal.” He said and she pulled away from him, taking his hand in hers and pulling him from the bar, Reyes patting Scott on the shoulder a couple times as he went past. Scott took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before going to the bar and sitting down, picking up her abandoned glass of whiskey and downing in.

“Another whiskey?” Dutch asked and Scott nodded.

“I just helped my sister get laid, so yeah, keep’em coming.”

University!AU Masterlist

Slipped And Fell For You by billsydoestuff

The overhead lights buzz with the old 80s music playing in the overhead speakers as I stand at the counter, bored out of my mind.

Surprise! by jamesxlilyxpotter

It’s Simon’s 19th birthday and Penelope wants to throw him a surprise party. She decides to have Baz take him out for a few drinks to get them out of the way. A truce for one night just before summer, Snow and Baz get to finally know each other after living together for almost a year

Tangled Earbuds by carry-on-kissing-snowbaz

Simon felt tense as he walked into his dorm room. Lately, being around his mean roommate had felt awkward. He found himself wishing he had something to talk to him about or an excuse to get his attention. Simon didn’t fully understand his new feelings towards Baz, but he knew he felt uncomfortable.

Temporary Fix by magicathstewart 

Simon storms through the door, kicking it closed behind him. He throws his bag at his desk where it crashes loudly into the chair, sending it spinning, before falling to the floor, books spilling out everywhere. With a grunt of frustration, Simon throws himself onto his bed and covers his face with a pillow.

Why Me?! by anyberry

I keep chewing on my nails as Penny drives me to my new university.

You’re My Favorite Color by ebbthegoatgirl

The first time I see color, it isn’t a slow bleed like some people say. It isn’t a gradual bloom of green or brown, like some scholars write, when they first touch their soulmate. It doesn’t happen slowly over the course of several minutes.

Slipped and Fell for You

Day 1 of the Carry On countdown via prompts from @carryon-countdown 

Day 1: Coffee Shop AU


The overhead lights buzz with the old 80s music playing in the overhead speakers as I stand at the counter, bored out of my mind. It’s only been a few minutes since the last costumer, but it feels like it has been ages since I’ve seen anyone. My coworker, Agatha, is in the back “stocking.” I know she’s actually cramming for her upcoming geography exam after the break, so I don’t bother her for attention.

About 10 minutes pass before I’m ready to groan up at the ceiling in boredom for the third time today when a costumer walks in. The little bell on the door has my head snapping up and pulling me into character of the happy-go-lucky barista I am meant to portray.

The guy who walks in is unfamiliar, which is surprising this far into the semester. By now, most of the other Uni kids have come through the on-campus Starbucks in serious need of a caffeine boost or a calming tea. He has long black hair that looks extremely soft (seriously, what conditioner does this guy use?) and a sneer that could ward off anyone that dare try to talk to him.

“Hello,” I say cheerily, my voice cracking when he looks at me, sharp grey eyes boring into mine. “What can I get for you?” Mr. Death-glare glances up at the menu bored, then back to me. He looks tired, or maybe he always has bags under his eyes. Some people just look like that. “Coffee, black. Shot of espresso,” he mumbles. His voice is gravelly and low, and a weird feeling blooms in my chest. As scary as he looks, this guy is kind of…hot? I don’t know. Beauty concepts created by our society is weird, so who can really judge what is “hot,” right? Steaming milk is hot, for sure. He’s giving me a funny look and I realize I’m blushing.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

I don’t remember telling him the price or him handing me money, I only remember his fingers slightly brushing against mine as we exchanged currency for goods. He nods and begins to shuffle over to wear the coffee is usually delivered. “Wait,” I say, outreaching a hand in more of a gesture than an actual attempt to grab him, but he seems to flinch anyway. “I need your name – for the coffee, I mean.”

“Oh,” he says, and his sneer softens to more of a tired scowl.  “Basilton,” he says and turns away to go sit and wait for his coffee. Basilton – what a name. I have no idea how to spell it, and I doubt he would be okay with being bothered again, so I just shorten it. No one else comes in while I make his coffee or when I put it out on the counter, but I say his name anyway, wanting to know how it would sound coming out of my mouth. “Basilton,” I say. His head snaps up and he tucks his phone into his jacket pocket.

As he reaches for his coffee, I pull it away, a lame attempt to – well I’m not sure what I’m attempting to do, but I’m doing something. His sneer is back and his eyes seem to go from daggers to swords as he looks up at me. “What,” he spits. “Erm. I- I didn’t know how to spell your name, so I had to shorten it,” I stumble over my words. What was I doing? More importantly, why was I doing it?

His face doesn’t soften like it did before. His brows knit together in angry confusion at me, and I swallow in attempt to get rid of the lump forming in my throat. His eyes flick to the movement of my Adam’s Apple, or is that my mind playing tricks on me? I don’t know and I don’t care. I feel like a nervous wreck and my palms are sweating from the heat of the coffee – at least, that’s what I tell myself.

I scoot the coffee toward him and he glances at it, almost seeming surprised by its presence – like he had forgotten about it.

“E-Enjoy,” I say.

He grunts and swoops the coffee aggressively off the counter, turns, and heads out the door. My heart is racing and I catch myself lingering my gaze on him until he turns a corner and disappears. Agatha comes out from the back, stretching her arms toward the ceiling and looking like death but beautiful as always. Her eyes widen when meeting mine, “Whoa, Simon, are you feeling okay? You’re completely red and look like you’re about to pass out.” She reaches out to touch my forehead but I swat her away. “’M fine,” I say. “Just hot up here, is all.” I make my way to the back and sit down. For some reason, this guy was in my head and wasn’t leaving. I can’t figure out if I like it or hate it.


I feel kind of bad for treating Simon so horrid, but today is not the day to fuck around with Tyrannous Basilton Grimm-Pitch.

Firstly, I had to pull an all-nighter with Niall, the git not being able to understand the simple basics of Psychology.

Secondly, my father thought it would be a grand idea for me to stay at school over the break rather than come home so that I could “focus on my studies,” and he had no problem paying for me to stay. I know the real reason is because he cannot handle having an openly queer son at his event, but it’s not like I mind all too much. I just wish I had the option to stay with my aunt in London instead, but he thought that worse than me attending his event, thinking she may be a bad influence on me. Right, because the only thing worse than a gay son is a gay son with a rebellious attitude toward the government.

And now I think I’ve just offended my crush of over a year by being moody in the worse possible way. Seeing him close and personal with his blue eyes staring at me so kindly made me feel like shit. How dare he be even cuter up close, bronze curls elegantly disheveled and eyes darkened from the shadows. What’s worse is that I’m sure he is straight. I have no chance with him, but it’s nice to fantasize about the boy who sits 4 rows in front of me in Literature Lecture. Well, more like torturous. Not nice. Crowley, I am a fool.

As I round another corner, I remember Snow telling me he had put a nickname on my cup. I force myself to not trip over my own two feet as I look at the horrible hand writing that reads “BAZ” in black sharpie. My heart quickens and I can feel myself blushing. Hearing him say my name aloud felt impersonal, surprisingly, but the nickname scrawled in horrible chicken-scratch feels much, much more personal – almost friendly. Did he want to be friends, or am I reading into it? Then there was the teasing with my coffee earlier. Was that flirting or him being spastic? Honestly, I have seen him around campus enough to notice the random spurts of energy he gets, dragging a very reluctant purple-haired girl with him.

I shake the thought from my head, reminding myself that it was his job to be friendly – hell, he didn’t even know who I was, although I can’t say I blame him. I have always kept to myself in the back of the room, never wanting to alert any sort of attention.

Suddenly, I am no longer walking. Instead, I’m on the ground, boiling-hot coffee spilled all over me and seeping into the cracks of the concrete, edging toward dry leaves scattered about the ground. My arse hurts like hell and I don’t know what happened. I try to stand and realize the ground is more slippery than usual. “Fuck,” I huff. I maneuver myself onto a safer part of the pavement, avoiding the ice and my coffee as best as possible. ‘This makes 4,’ I say to myself, adding onto my list of why my day is absolute shit and why I have every right to be mean. I look back down from where I came, defeated, and start to head back toward the Starbucks.

Maybe Simon will pity me enough to give me a free coffee. Or at least a discount.


The bell rings and I come up front, ready to put on the smiling face everyone expects me to have. It’s harder this time, now that I know who Baz is. Agatha explained to me that he was in our Lit class and came from an extremely high-up government family, but wasn’t going home during the break because his father was embarrassed of him. I can’t imagine why, since he has the highest scoring in our school and literally speaks 5 different languages fluently.

I start to remember seeing him in class, seeing him before everyone else was seated in the room with his nose crammed into a notebook, or in the front arguing with the professor in a hushed tone over the reading material. I don’t know why I had never noticed him before? Maybe he didn’t want to be noticed. Whatever the reason is, I can’t help but to think about how he and I will be one of the few people stuck on campus during break. But I need to stop thinking about him because there’s a costumer and-



This was a bad idea. A horrible, terrible idea. I thought that coming back to the coffee shop would give me the chance to clean up and regain some form of dignity. I had kept my head held high the entire way here and practiced my lines for when I came in. Simon was to say, “Hello.” I was to ask for the toilet, calm and cool, and he was to point in its general direction. Then I would clean up, say my thanks, and leave. I hadn’t even thought to buy another coffee to replace the old one, adrenaline having woken me up.

But that didn’t happen. Instead, Simon is looking at me like I had just walked out of the apocalypse with a massive wound I’m casually ignoring and called me Baz. I felt my breath hitch at the sound of him using the nickname. “What happened? Are you okay?” If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought he was genuinely concerned that I had gotten mugged or something – my coat is covered in a giant coffee stain and my hair is windblown everywhere, so it’s understandable. I tried to say something witty, but his eyes were so full of concern it makes me feel sick.

“Toilet,” is all I manage. He nods hurriedly and jumps – actually jumps – over the counter and starts to show me toward the restroom. As soon as we were in, I thought he would leave. But he proves me wrong and stays with me as I take off my jacket and wrinkle my nose at it. I always knew white wasn’t my color, and this is a sign confirming my thoughts.

I sigh and look up at Simon. His eyes are wide and his cheeks go from pinkish to almost red as I meet his gaze. “Do you mind,” I mutter. He blinks at me and sputters, “Oh. Right, of course. Yeah. Sorry, mate. I’ll just. Yeah. I’llbeouthereifyouneedanything.” His hip hits the sink on his clumsy way out and I hear him mutter a curse under his breathe. “Watch your mouth, we’re at work,” I hear a girl call from outside. The door closes and it’s quiet once more.

I splash water on my face and hold on to the sink, staring into the drain as if my problems could be washed down the drain with the water. But they can’t, obviously. I check my pants to make sure they’re not ruined – they’re not, thank Merlin. I plan to check for bruising back in my room – not here, knowing that Simon is outside my door and could come in any time he wished. I leave the restroom, surprised to find him not there, but instead at the register, humming to the overhead music and doing tricks with the cup as he moves about. As if nothing had happened a few minutes ago.

I attempt to sneak past him, hoping he was preoccupied enough to have forgotten about me. “Hey, Baz!”

Apparently not.

I try to put on my sneer, not wanting to talk about how embarrassing I am to the universe. But the effort to do so diminishes immediately when his eyes meet mine. I feel my face fall as I approach the counter, feeling suddenly drained and tired and in great need of a nap. I look up at him and say nothing, knowing whatever may come out of my mouth may come off as offensive.

“You okay, mate? You really had me worried. I’m assuming your coffee spilled all over you somehow. I’ll make you a new one, don’t worry about it. Black coffee with a shot of espresso, right?” I feel my head spin as he takes off from the counter and goes for the cups to his left. “No,” I try to say, but it come out cracked and weak.

“Did I get it wrong?” he asks, stopping in his tracks and bringing his full attention to me.

“No,” I say again, firmer. “You are correct, I just do not want a coffee anymore.” He blinks at me. Once. Twice. He puts the coffee cup back onto its pile. “Oh. Well, could I at least treat you to a pastry?”

I shake my head.

“Not even a sour cherry scone?”

I look at him suspiciously from where I stand. “Sounds like that’s made up, Snow.” He cracks a smile and laughs a little. His laugh is so amazing; I don’t think I could ever get tired of it. I want to hear it again, but I can’t just tell him that. I realize I called him Snow, his last name. Crisse, I think I fucked up. I never gave away that I know him, right? Crowley, he’s going to think I’m some stalker.

But he’s still laughing and that’s good, right? My mouth tugs a little upwards, but I fight the smile. I don’t want to come off creepy – unless I already have and Simon is only laughing because he’s weirded out by me and fears what I may do to him. He stops and looks at me, eyes flicking down to my mouth and then back up at me.

What does that mean?


He smiles, just a little. It’s so small and brief that I barely catch it. I feel myself uncontrollably smiling wide at him. “Well then, it seems like I owe you a coffee. Perhaps we can get one tomorrow? Or whenever you’re available.” Smooth, Simon. Real smooth.

Baz looks at me, tilting his head in thought, his once windblown hair back to its perfect, soft style. “Will you be here during break?” he asks. I shrug, “Living on campus, but not working since we’re closed. What about you?” I don’t want him to know that I know he’ll be on campus – that would come off as weird.

“Yeah, I’ll be around. Erm… see you then?” he asks, awkwardly waving at me.

“Wait!” I say quickly before picking up a paper cup. I flip it and the marker out of habit and write my number on it. “So we can contact one another,” I say. My heart feels like it’s going to leap out of my chest as he takes the cup out of my hand and examines it. Without a word, he reaches over the counter and grabs a cup and plucks the Sharpie from my hand.

From here, I can tell his handwriting is as beautiful as him. He hands me the cup with elegant numbers scrawled across it and I wrap it in my hands, holding it tightly to my chest.

“I’ll text you,” he says as he reaches for the bar of the door handle blindly, missing the bar twice before finally finding it and stumbling with it as it opened. A giddy laugh escapes me as I look back down at the cup.


Did I just get a date with Simon fucking Snow?

The notoriously difficult phonology of the Polish language has always caused much trouble and confusion for neighbouring nations. But what are the absolute hardest words?

Germans look at Polish and see incomprehensible series of consonants. While to the east, Polish sounds so strange to Russians that they even have a verb for Poles speaking their language: pshekat. To top it off, Czechs think Poles sound like Czech children with a speech defect.

The most troublesome feature of Polish orthography is what linguists call complex consonant clusters ‒  series of consonants without any vowels. They occur in many languages, including English; for example, in the word ‘shrug’ the letters shr form a consonant cluster. But while English usually draws the line at three consonants, Polish sometimes joins as many as five consonants, a phenomenon called the Polish syllable structure, which is allegedly surpassed only by Georgian in terms of complexity.

Here are some outstandingly difficult examples of this damning syllable structure for you to have a crack at. Good luck!

1. Żółć

This word is comprised purely of Polish letters ‒ Latin letters that were modified with Polish diacritic signs. In terms of pronunciation, English-speakers still stand a chance, but they would need to know the sound every letter stands for… (Incidentally, this all-Polish word means ‘bile’. Could the choleric Polish temperament result from their impossible language?)

2. Szczęście

If you think happiness is hard to find, try pronouncing it in Polish! The Polish word for ‘happiness’ consists of a sequence of two Polish digraphs (sz, cz), a nasal e sound, the Polish diacritic ś, another digraph (ci), and a final e (which is probably the only sound you’ll be able to pronounce on your first go).

3. Pszczyna

With a name like this, this town in Southern Poland certainly stands out on the map. But despite looking rather daunting, Pszczyna features only three consonants one after the other (the digraphs sz and cz stand for one sound each). But we’re just getting started in terms of difficulty…

4. Następstw

The final letter sequence in the Polish word for ‘consequence’ features a headache-inducing cluster of four consonants, but don’t worry. You’re not likely to encounter ‘następstw’ too often since it is the genitive plural (and thus not infrequently used) form of the word ‘następstwo’. What’s genitive plural, you ask? In Polish, words like adjectives and nouns have six or seven versions depending on their grammatical function in a sentence. But never mind that now.

5. Źdźbło

We’re sorry. We know ‘źdźbło’ looks really awful. But no worries, it’s actually only four sounds, not five: Ź, DŹ, B, Ł. Surely, that’s slightly helpful news? Either way, this terribly difficult word means ‘a tiny leaf of grass’.  

6. Bezwzględny

Here we have five consonants AND five sounds to be pronounced. Fittingly, it means ‘ruthless’.

7. Szymankowszczyzna

Now that you’re an expert, the name of this small village shouldn’t pose too much difficulty (the longest consonant cluster is a mere three consonants long). You will be reassured to learn that it is one the longest place names in Poland and most places you’ll visit are actually easier to pronounce.

8. Szczebrzeszyn

Another town, Szczebrzeszyn is famous for being the beginning of the most famous Polish tongue-twister. Ready?

W Szczebrzeszynie chrząszcz brzmi w trzcinie

It means ‘In Szczebrzeszyn, a beetle buzzes in the reed’. No? Try again!

9. Grzegorz Brzęczyszczykiewicz :)

This name appears in the cult Polish movie How I Unleashed World War II when a Polish prisoner pretends to be thus named in order to thwart the Nazi officer who has to keep track of prisoners’ identities. His reaction is probably illustrative of most foreigners’ frustration with the devilish Polish phonology.

BONUS: Try putting them all together! Apologies in advance..

The ruthless Grzegorz Brzęczyszczykiewicz went from Szczebrzeszyn to Szymankowszczyzna and then Pszczyna. And though he was sometimes overwhelmed with bile, oblivious of the consequences, he eventually found happiness in a tiny leaf of grass.


Bezwzględny Grzegorz Brzęczyszczykiewicz wyruszył ze Szczebrzeszyna przez Szymankowszczyznę do Pszczyny. I choć nieraz zalewała go żółć, niepomny następstw znalazł ostatecznie szczęście w źdźble trawy.



Summary: In which Bucky has never heard the song Hero by Enrique Iglesias but very quickly remedies that in your honor.

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1,408

A/N: Imagine inspired by this song. If you’ve never heard it, I recommend giving it a listen. If you have heard it, don’t even lie and say you’ve never sung it at the top of your lungs (I know I have).

Originally posted by kittyseb

“This is my jam!” You exclaim excitedly once you hear the beginning of one of your favorite songs. In no time at all, Enrique Iglesias is blasting through the speakers and you are singing along with him at the top of your lungs.

“What is this?”

At the sound of Bucky’s question, you immediately pause your iPod and stare at him. “What did you just say?”

He gestures towards the speakers you are standing next to. “That song you just stopped playing. What is it?”

You try to tell yourself that his confusion makes perfect sense. It is not his fault that he has spent more than half of his life being used as an assassin for HYDRA. At the same time though, Hero is a classic and everyone should know it - the Winter Soldier included. “I can’t believe you don’t know it.”

Keep reading

Whump Scenario

Inspired by the lovely @whumpnation who did not give me permission to use this, but who I hope will not mind. UPDATE: They said yes! :).

The space they have gathered in is quiet and subdued. Normally this common area is a place of frivolity and noise, but not today. Today people sit with heads down and shoulders slumped. Even the light feels dusty and dull.

They come together because they don’t know what else to do. Sitting alone and separate is out of the question, but so is talking about what just happened. So they sit together, closer than normal, most of them just hoping the right words will come to help ease the pain blanketing them all.

Someone clears their throat and they all brace for what’s next. Their second in command is about to name it, to put into words this terrible tragedy which has befallen this rag tag band of warriors. The speaker stands to address them, but before they can even begin their speech, the doors to the gathering space open. A figure, filthy and covered in blood, limps in through the doors. It’s a face none of them had ever expected to see again. A face they had assumed was lost to them forever.

Everything is silent. Time seems to stand still. Some can’t help but wonder if it’s just an illusion, some manifestation of their shared grief come to life to torment them (these things happen in their line of work, you know). No one says a thing for a long while until someone drops something and it clatters noisily to the floor. This noise breaks the spell and everyone is up and out of their seats in an instant

“We thought you were dead!” They cry, rushing forward to catch their fallen hero just as knees buckle and they crumple to the floor. The medics are summoned. Someone throws a coat over the shivering form on the floor and a chorus of ‘hold on!’s and ‘help is on the way’s follow their resurrected hero into unconsciousness.


“My mother asked me if this was the first time Lakota has ever been spoken during a Harvard commencement, and for that, if it’s true, we are very proud.”

–Megan Red Shirt-Shaw, HGSE Convocation student speaker, received an immediate standing ovation after her heartfelt, deeply personal speech on reflection and remembrance.

Star-Crossed Part 6

Request: Would you mind writing a story (or oneshot) on High School AU! Bucky x reader where reader is dating a big douchebag while Bucky likes her? Its kinda cliche but fun ;)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: none.

A/N: What are your thoughts about the story so far?

John picked you up around 10:30 Friday night for Richard’s party. You didn’t dress too crazy like some girls who attend these high school parties. You wore a simple nice shirt and a skirt.

The party had already been going on when you two arrived. People where already trashed, hanging out outside on Richard’s lawn - someone was even passed out on the hood of a car.

You sigh and held onto John’s hand as the two of you walked inside. You think the outside was bad? Inside was much worse. Music was blaring loudly from speakers, people were standing or walking around with red plastic cups, there were couples making out on the couches or in corners of the house, some girl was table dancing ahead of you, completely drunk out of her mind while the crowd around her egged her on.

“Let’s go get a drink.” John says loud enough for you to hear. You nod and allow him to pull you over to the kitchen where drinks were being handed out. John took two cups and gave one to you.

“What’s in this?” you question and he shrugged, taking a drink of his.

“I dunno. Some type of alcohol.” he responded.

You let out a sigh and took a look around. So, so many drunk people.

“Richard! William!” you hear John shout and you turn your head.

“John! You came!” Richard laughed, walking up to him with William following.

“Of course I did. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” John replied, patting his friend on his back.

Richard and William look your way and smile. “Hey Y/N.”

All you do is flash a smile back.

“Babe, I’m gonna go with them, alright?” John says, squeezing your hand before letting go.

“What do I do if I want to go home?” you question with a frown. This seemed to annoy John.

“I dunno, go find Barbara and ask her.” he replied, mumbling a ‘fuck’ afterwards. You watched as he walked away with his friends before turning around and dumping your drink in the sink. After throwing your cup away, you look through the fridge and grab a water bottle instead.

You look around once more before walking until you find an empty corner. You smile and lean against the wall, taking a drink of your water.

“Hey Y/N.” Barbara stood next to you.

“Hey Barb.” you grin. “How’s it going?”

Your friend laughs. “It’s going good. Fells like I haven’t spend time with you in forever.”

“Ugh I know right? We should have a sleepover.” you suggest and Barbara smiles.

“We should! We can order pizza and watch movies and get fat together!” she says, causing you to laugh.

“You know how much I love to get fat, especially with you.” you joke and Barbara giggles.

“Alright, so it’s settled, sleepover say… tomorrow?” she questions and you nod.

“Definitely. Who’s house?”

“Yours.” she responds. “My brother’s home from college and he brought his obnoxious friends along with him. I can’t stand them.”

“Okay, my house. I’ll save you from having to deal with your brother and his friends.” you say.

“My hero.” Barbara says dramatically and you laugh. Before any of you could get another word out, someone stops in front of you.

“What are ya doin’ in the corner, doll?” Bucky’s voice fills my ears and I turn to him with a smile.

“I’ll let you two talk. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” Barbara hugs you then walks away, leaving you with Bucky.

“What do you want Buckaroo?” you say, taking another drink of your water.

“Nothin’.” he shrugged. “Just saw a pretty dame standing in the corner and decided to go talk to her.”

“Pretty dame? Are you talking about Alexa Waters because she is beautiful.” you say, pointing over to a girl named Alexa.

Bucky chuckled, leaning against the wall next to you. “I was talkin’ about you, darlin’.”

You playfully roll your eyes. “Shut it, Barnes.”

Bucky takes a look around before turning back to you. “Wanna get out of here?”

You make a face. “Yeah, it’s no fun here and I wanna go home.”

“C’mon, I’ll take you.” Bucky absentmindedly grabs your hand and pulls you through the crowd, outside to his car.

“So how was your day?” Bucky questioned as he parked outside of your house.

“Pretty good. Normal.” you nod.

“That’s-” you cut him off with a gasp, slapping his arm that held onto the wheel repeatedly.

“Bucky I almost forgot to tell you!” you exclaim. “So I opened my locker this morning and found a card and daisies just sitting on top of my books. It was so cute! At first I thought it was John but when I showed him, he said it wasn’t him so now I’m curious as to who it is.”

“The person didn’t sign the card?” Bucky questioned, intrigued.

“Nope.” you shook your head.

“What did the card say?” he asked and you smile, pulling the card out of the little pocket of your shirt.

Bucky smiled. You carried it around with you the whole day.

You hand the card over to Bucky and he reads it. “Aww, how cute.”

“Right? That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.” you smile, taking the card from his fingers and reading it for probably the billionth time that day.

“John’s never done that?” Bucky questioned, turning his body to you in his seat.

“Nope. He doesn’t even know my favorite flowers.” you sigh.

“What? Really?” he gasped.

“Mhm.” you nod. “He thought my favorite flowers were hydrangeas.”

“Wow.” Bucky shook his head yet again. “It’s so obvious your favorite flowers daisies.”

You’re shocked at his words. “Wh-What?”

He looks at you. “Hmm?”

“You remembered.” you look at him in awe.

“Of course I remember.” he responds and it makes your heart flutter. Before you end up kissing him again, you clear your throat.

“I should get going, I’m pretty tired.” you say and Bucky nods.

“Yeah I should get going too. I kind of left Steve at that party.” he says.

“Bucky!” you giggle, hitting his chest. “Go get your friend!”

“I will, I will, don’t worry, doll.” he laughed, watching you get out of his car. You shut the door and he rolled down the window. “Keep me updated on this secret admirer of yours. I’ll see you on Monday, cutie.”

You blush at the new pet name. “Will do. See you on Monday Bucky.” and with that you turn away and walk up to your front door.

A/N: I hope you liked itttttttttt :)


@witchwhoviandemigod @your-puddin @heismyhunter @jas94kullar @buchananbarnestrash @live-in-the-now10 @jcb2k16 @plumqueenbucky @thefandomplace @chocolatereignz @blueberry-pens @professionally-crazed @idk-something-amazing-i-guess @almondbuttercup @janetgenea @buckysmetallicstump @flowercrownsandmetallicarms @marvel-and-dc-shit @ouatalways @winterboobaer @pickylittlebitch @snakesgoethe @emilyinwonderland3 @clairefxkingtemple @theartofwriting-imagines @pabegay1

[SCENARIO] How the Vocal Team will Propose (DK/SK)

A/N: AND HERE IT IS! How would the Vocal Team propose! This is the Dokyeom and Seungkwan edition, and they are such babes in our hearts i swear we almost died from flutter just thinking of ideas to write about what they would do. Anyways, please look out for our Jeonghan, Woozi and Joshua edition, which is coming out really soon! :)

A continuation of one of our earlier scenarios (How the Hip Hop Team will Propose). We will also be doing one for the Performance Team as well, so we hope you look forward to it!


- wooed <3
- Scooped ✌️


Originally posted by meaniengful

SYNOPSIS: I think we all know that the Vocal Team are definitely the shyer, less expressive ones (other than Seungkwan) in the group, so we can see them turning to simpler, but sweeter ways to propose to their significant others. True to themself, their proposal methods may be really cliche but it will definitely melt any girl’s heart.

Keep reading

Foul Play

“Hi, I love yr blog so so much and I was wondering if you coulf make a one-shot where you’re playing quidditch (doesn’t matter what team) and you’re dating Fred but get injured and end up in the hospital wing and when you wake up Fred is there and loads of fluff?” -asometimestroubledmind

Hey would you look at that, I wrote something!

Warning: if you don’t like blood, pretend it’s honey or something idk

“Gryffindor are still in the lead, 80 to 160!” Lee roared through the microphone from his commentating spot in the stands, "Rightfully so I might add, the amount of foul play from the Slytherin team today is just—“ "LEE!” Screeched Professor McGonagall, for what must have been the fourth time this game.

“Alicia is in possession of the quaffle, passes it to fellow Chaser Y/N, the h/c beauty out there, Merlin knows all the boys have been the ones playing Chaser when trying to get a hold of her—“ “Lee you have one more chance or so help me” McGonagall said through clenched teeth.

“You’re right, you’re right, Fred’s already stolen her heart anyway. Now she passes to Angie, back to Y/N and THAT’S ANOTHER TEN POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR!” The red and gold stands roar with cheer for Gryffindor as they score yet another goal.

“You’re on fire today missy” the too familiar voice coos in Y/N’s ear, “Says the one with the fiery maine” Y/N teases back before Fred cups her face and gives her a sweet kiss on the lips. "Bleugh!” went Malfoy, pretending to be sick over their PDA. “Don’t hit on her too hard Weezle, she might fall off her broom” Lucian Goyle, one of the Slytherin beaters laughed a little too sinister for Y/N’s liking.

— Y/N’s POV —

“What a surprise, Y/N is back in possession of the quaffle!” Lee’s voice echoed through the speakers. The Gryffindor stands started to cheer once again as I flew past with the quaffle tightly under my arm. I had a clear path straight towards the rings, no other Slytherin players other than the keeper. I lean forward on my broom picking up as much speed possible, getting closer and closer by the second, now’s my chance to perfectly throw the quaffle into the left ring, just a little closer—“

*CRACK!* and everything around me turned to black.

— Fred’s POV —

“NO!” I call out. I only just caught her, about three or four meters off the ground. Madam Hooch blows the whistle to pause the match. Did that really just happen? He surely can’t have done that to her!

“MR. GOYLE, LAND AT ONCE!” Madam Hooch bellows from the ground.

“No, no, no Y/N wake up, please!” I cry down to her, lying in my arms unconscious. This can’t be happening, Merlin don’t let this be happening!

“MR. GOYLE, DO YOU REALISE THE SEVERITY OF THIS SITUATION?” Madam Hooch screams at that bastard, Lucian. “Not only have you attacked Y/N from behind, you have HIT HER WITH YOUR BEATER’S BAT” This twat is laughing. Laughing at what he’s done to Y/N!

Everyone’s staring at me as I cry down looking at my Y/N. The tears are running down my cheeks and landing on her perfect face. Even the hand holding the back of her head is becoming wet.


That can’t be tears…

I cautiously move my hand from supporting her hand to find it covered in dripping red liquid.

No. Please, no.

Several of the girls in the stands next to us screamed in disgust. The whole stadium gasped in horror.

“MR. GOYLE, I HEREBY BAN YOU FROM PLAYING QUIDDITCH FOR THE REMAINDER OF YOUR TIME AT HOGWARTS” A few of the Slytherin’s had the audacity to groan and complain about this ban, but I don’t give a rat’s about them right now.

McGonagall came running to Y/N’s other side, examining her with a horrified look in her eyes. She called over Madam Pomfrey who had just entered the ground, and cast a spell on Y/N causing her to levitate to about shoulder height, as if she were on an invisible stretcher bed. “You better come with us, Mr. Weasley” she said shakily. So I followed Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey and Y/N into the castle and to the Hospital Wing.

— Y/N’s POV —

I woke up, with everything blurry when I tried to open my eyes, causing a sharp pain to run through my whole head. I closed my eyes again and groaned out in pain. I opened my eyes once again, and they began to adjust to the light. I hear quiet sobs to my left, and I look over to see Fred clutching onto my hand, kissing it as he repeatedly apologizes quietly.

“Freddie?” I somehow manage. His tear stained face looks up with wide eyes, and it’s as if I can physically feel the wave of relief rush over him. “Y/N my darling” he says right before he envelopes me in a big hug, kissing my cheek over and over again.

“Freddie, why were you apologizing?” I ask, surely he didn’t make me fall?

Fred told me the whole story, about how that slimeball Lucian came up behind me and hit me across the back of the head with his bat. The way Fred described how he felt when he was holding me on the ground was heartbreaking. I love how much he cares, but I never want him to feel that scared ever again.

“But Fredie, that’s not your fault, why are you apologizing?”

“Y/N, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. You make me happier than I’ve ever felt and you make me feel all new things, too. You’re the most precious thing to me and I didn’t protect you. I should’ve been there to save you and to keep you safe, and I didn’t. I can’t afford to lose you, because a world without you isn’t a world I want to be in. I love you, Y/N, and I’m sorry I almost lost you”

Speechless. I’ve never quite been speechless before around my boyfriend, but right now I was. He loves me, he really loves me. “Fred, I love you too” My voice cracks, I never knew he felt so strongly about me. I pull him in by the collar of his shirt for a long and passionate kiss.

I was damn sure that I am not going to lose this one. Never.


Thanks doll! i’ll try and write more stuff more often!

Inhale, Exhale [ Kim Seokjin ]

Originally posted by infireskay


Pieces of You Drabble Series

10. “You don’t have to know the meaning of life to breathe. You don’t have to know the meaning of happiness to smile.”

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“You don’t have to know the meaning of life to breathe. You don’t have to know the meaning of happiness to smile.”

Inhale. Exhale.

Seokjin was sweating bullets. The music was blaring through the speaker standing at every corner of the stage. The crowds were screaming on top of their lungs and it took him a while to realized they were screaming his name. There were flashes of cameras that he sure would be the cause of his bad eyesight and bright neon signs with his name on it. The screaming intensified once the music died down and the lights on the stage turned back on, revealing his sweaty and flushed face. It was almost instinctive, how his lips curled into a smile and his brown eyes crinkled, the exhaustion seemed to disappear for a moment. The sound of his best friends caused him to look away from the crowd, his features softened at the sight of six men running towards him full speed, tackling him into a hug. This was good, he thought. This was happy.

Inhale. Exhale.

A free Sunday afternoon found Seokjin back in the kitchen again. He made his way around the kitchen with precise muscle memory, from the even cuts of meat to the little pinch of salt he added to the kimchi jjigae he was making. He mindlessly opened the fridge, taking out several more ingredients before he went back to the kitchen counter. The fresh scallions were then washed and soaked in cold water to remove the slight pungency and the slime.

“Hyung, you need any help with anything?” Jimin popped up a few minutes later. He walked over to the kitchen counter to see what the older man had been trying to make.

“Can you check if the soup and the meat is okay? I just need to slice this and add some seasonings and then we’re ready to eat.” He explained as he took out the scallions and started to julienned them evenly.

“This is heaven.” Jimin groaned, taking another spoonful of soup before turning off the stove. “I’ll get the table ready.”

Seokjin nodded quietly, hands busy with the salad in front of him. He grabbed the chili powder and sesame seeds from the rack, poured some sesame oil, and tossed everything together. It was almost relaxing, in a way, he realized. He didn’t have to think about anything when he was standing in the kitchen. A small smile made its way to his face.

“Let’s eat, guys!”

Inhale. Exhale.

He supposed he should have seen it coming, that he wasn’t supposed to be this surprised when she finally decided that their relationship had run its course. But he was and for a moment, he felt dread and panic overtook him. The crawling sensation against his skin brought nothing but pain and his heart twisted in pain at the sight of her black suitcase. He clenched his fists tightly, nails leaving angry indentations on his palms.

“Why?” He asked her a little too calmly. His heart was beating so loud against his ribcage he could hear it in his ears.

“You know why, Seokjin.” She softly replied as she looked at him with swollen eyes and tired smile.

“I just–,” he paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “Can’t we work this out,” he was about to say, but stopped himself before the words slipped out of his lips.

He couldn’t tell her she was his anchor. The one that kept him at bay when he felt like drifting off. The only person who would shine a light when dark thoughts consumed him. He wanted to let her know that she was his beacon of hope, the only one he wanted to spend his life with. But his throat closed up when she turned to him again, exhaustion evident in her face, and all resolutions to make her stay disappeared. He shook his head and smiled, pulling her into one last hug.

“Thank you.”

Inhale. Exhale.

They didn’t bother him for two weeks, letting him wallow in self-pity and heartbreak quietly. It was Jungkook who barged into the bedroom with determination in his eyes, and grabbed his hand, dragging him out to get something to eat.

“There’s a nice restaurant and I want to try it with you, hyung.” He told with his bunny smile, eyes filled with nothing but love and understanding.

The drive to the restaurant was silent except for the songs softly played on the radio. He stole a glance at Jungkook, who had his eyes glued to his phone as he muttered directions to the restaurant.

“How do you do it?” The words spilled before he could stop himself.

Jungkook looked up in surprised. He bit his lips, mulling over Seokjin’s question for a moment before he replied, “It gets less painful.”

Seokjin nodded and turned away from the younger guy, lips curled into a smile instinctively once they stopped in front of the restaurant, greeting the waitress with cheerfulness that made him a little nauseous.

Inhale. Exhale.