the gift is that she stuck around way way longer than we had any right to expect

Training the Rookie

Originally posted by baellinswithstyles

Hey guys so in all the chaos of the Drabble Challenge, I haven’t posted any longer fics. So here is a Seth fic I’ve been working on for a couple weeks. This one was requested by an anon. Hope you guys like it!

Summary: Reader is a new girl that comes to WWE and Seth is asked to train her by Triple H. Seth isn’t happy about it and is constantly tearing her apart. One day they are working on a move, and he has to stand behind her, and she unknowingly rubs her butt against him. The next day tensions rise, and true feelings come out. ANGST. SMUT.

TAGS: @monsteramongmen-tamer @wildandfreepinkv0dka @hardcorewwetrash @imagineall-the-fandoms @alexispoo @nickysmum1909 @mandazord @panda-girl1999  

If you would like to be added to my tag list just let me know!  Or if there are any wrestlers you would like to see more of, hit me up! I’m always open to new ideas and suggestions!

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Bookmarks and Chocolates - Pansmione Valentine’s Day One-Shot

So I always default Drarry for things, but when I noticed the Be Mine Challenge by @slytherdornet and @hprarepairnet it was a good excuse to write some Pansmione!! I don’t write f/f pairings often enough! Got tad longer than I’d planned though…

(Or read on AO3 or FFnet

Bookmarks and Chocolates - 2.4k - First Valentine’s Day Together

Hermione twisted a piece of her hair nervously. The package in her pocket felt heavier than it ought to. Even in the library, there was no escaping what day it was. Valentine’s day. There was whispering, and some snogging in between the shelves. There was pink everywhere, which Hermione had scoffed at. Too cliché, she thought. Too easy to give a girl something pink and flowery, and covered in hearts.

Her eyes darted over to Pansy. The Slytherin was leaning back in her chair, which was turned out slightly, with one foot resting on the seat next to her, and her book resting on that raised thigh. It was a tad scandalous, given that her skirt has slid up, revealing a rather large patch of inner thigh. Blinking, Hermione glanced back at her notes.

The package only felt heavier, which was ridiculous given what it was. It had been an impulsive purchase, and really, she regretted it. Ever since then, she’d only felt stressed about it. They obviously weren’t exchanging anything, or Pansy would have given her something already. She wasn’t one to waste time.

They could hardly call what they were doing dating anyway. Hermione didn’t care for labels, but one would be helpful, on such a day, just so she’d know what to do. They’d never really gone out anywhere for a date. And they’d only kissed a few times. Well, several times really, but nothing further. They did spend almost every day together after class, in the library, but Hermione was studying. Pansy didn’t really study, even though she got good grades. She was always reading a book though, and she always had a different bookmark.

Which was why Hermione had felt the impulse to buy the one she’d seen in Hogsmeade. Which was stupid. Pansy probably had one like it anyway, in her apparently vast collection. Biting her lip, Hermione looked back down at her notes. She’d written nothing in over an hour.

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Christmas at Holmes Cottage - The Sixth Ficlet

The next couple of days went by without too much issue, John thought. If Mycroft had any doubts, he didn’t say anything, and everyone was getting on well. Greg got used to the Holmes family rather quickly - it helped that their parents were much more ordinary than the brothers - and him and Sherlock kept up their act almost naturally at this point.

It wasn’t until Christmas evening, after dinner, that things took a turn. Sherlock had gone off somewhere, John didn’t know where, so he went to the others to ask them. Greg and Mycroft didn’t know, but the Holmes father did. 

“Oh, he went upstairs. Said something about needing to find a place to store his gifts,” the man said, a twinkle in his eye as he spoke. John supposed it was the wine. “Maybe you should go help him. He has a tendency to take a while to sort new things into his systems. One year we got him some new socks and he spent over an hour reorganizing that sock index of his.”

John had to laugh at that, shaking his head fondly. “Yeah, that sounds like him. I’ll go see what I can do.”

Making his way up the stairs, he went into Sherlock’s room, bumping into the man in the doorway. “Oh, hey. You all set with sorting your gifts?” he asked, but it looked like Sherlock didn’t even hear him. “Sherlock? Everything all right?”

“John. Look up.” The detective hadn’t moved his gaze, and when John directed his upward, he understood why. 


“How did… I swear that wasn’t there yesterday,” John said, frowning in confusion. 

“No, it wasn’t,” Sherlock agreed. “I suspect it was Mummy’s doing. She does like to be a bit overzealous with it.”

“But why here?” John didn’t understand. “Seems a bit out of the way.”

“Probably ran out of other doorways. She has way too much of the stuff.”

“Ah.” Nodding a bit, John brought his gaze back down and shrugged a little. “Well, if you’re done up here I suppose we can just head back down,” he said, turning a bit and making to step away when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“John, wait,” Sherlock said, voice softer now as his gaze moved to meet John’s own.

“What? Were you coming to get me to help, is that it?” John asked, figuring that was the only deduction that made sense. They’d both agreed that they didn’t have to keep up the couple act when nobody else was around, so he didn’t think that was it.

“No, no, I actually am done. That was an impressive deduction, though, given the circumstances. But incorrect. You lack all the context.”

“Well, what is it, then?” John asked, feeling a surge of hope in his chest. Though he quickly pushed it down; he’d known going in that this was all fake.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you, that I’ve been wanting to say since we’ve been here, and even a lot longer than that. But I haven’t; I’ve been, well, scared…”

“Sherlock, what-?” John started, but Sherlock put a finger to his lips and he stopped immediately. 

“Please, John, just let me continue. I.. I need to say it now, and I need to say it all at once.” Sherlock waited until John nodded in understanding, then lowered his hand. “You know I don’t make friends easily. I tried, but people never stayed, so I just stopped trying. Until Mike set us up as roommates. I felt like I had a chance at being your friend. Then one crime scene and a chase across London later I was entirely committed and devoted to doing all I could to be your friend. Even if it didn’t always seem like I was trying that hard, I was doing my best.”

“Then when I, er, left, I didn’t say anything to you because I really cared about you. You were my best friend, and though I wished I could have said something, I was scared you would get hurt. I never truly knew how many men Moriarty had watching you, and I didn’t want to think about what they might have been able to do if they had any idea that I was alive and had interacted with you. I know now that what I put you through was far worse than what I had imagined, and I really am sorry.”

“After things got back to normal, and your therapist helped you to see that Mary was doing you no good, I didn’t expect anything to change. We were friends again, and I was happy. But it did change. I.. I’m in love with you, John. I have been for, well, a while. Longer perhaps than I even know. But I never dared to say because of how many times you corrected people who thought we were a couple, and that almost scared me out of asking you to come here with me. The reason I did is because, for a little while, I wanted to know what it would feel like if we were really together. Instead though, all I’ve been able to focus on is how much it hurts that this isn’t real.”

John blinked a few times as he took in everything Sherlock had said, his mind buzzing yet simultaneously stuck on one point. Sherlock Holmes just told him that he loved him. Laughing incredulously, he looked up at Sherlock with a bewildered smile. “Sherlock, I.. Where do I start?”

“I only corrected people because I was convinced that you had no desire for this. That first night at Angelo’s, I thought you were basically saying you weren’t interested in any aspect of an intimate relationship.”

“Then why did you always insist you weren’t gay?” Sherlock asked.

“Hardwired and instinctive response from when I was growing up. My parents were shit. My dad especially. He drove Harry to drink - not Clara - and I was never brave enough to be who I was around them like she had been. Besides, I’m bi. Not gay.”

“So then.. Are you saying..what I think you’re saying?”

“Sherlock, you daft genius, yes. I love you too,” John said, beaming up at the detective - his detective - with so much more emotion in his gaze than he’d allowed himself to show since they’d arrived. 

“Then that makes us a couple,” Sherlock said with a grin that was just as bright. “And I believe there’s a rule about couples standing under mistletoe, is there not?”

John laughed. “Yes. Yes there is. Y'know, I completely forgot that was up there.” Rolling his eyes fondly, he moved so he was properly sharing Sherlock’s space, pulling him down by his shirt collar and kissing him. It was heavenly, and if it weren’t for the fireworks coursing through his entire being he might have thought he was only dreaming.

(that got longer than expected, whoops. but i hope you can agree that it was worth it for these idiots to get together :) )

(submitted by johnlocked-starkid)

(PART 1) | (PART 2) | (PART 3) | (PART 4) | (PART 5)

OMG ARE YOU KIDDING OF COURSE IT WAS WORTH IT!!! <3 I love this so much!!!!!!! THANK YOU!!!!!!

cookiepie111  asked:

Could you please do scenario with a yandere jumin and zen (separately)

Spread the yandere love (灬♥ω♥灬) I might as well write yandere stories for all the rest of the members now lol


Jumin: It was expected of a corporate heir like him to be stoic and composed at all times. He didn’t have time for feelings or companionship, he was still young and needed to focus on becoming the CEO of his father’s company. It had always been that way ever since he was young. Jumin was taught to be a responsible, well mannered individual that couldn’t have any imperfections or else all would fail. He had to be good at everything, and know the answers to everything.

Yet, the lack of experience with human relations was ultimately Jumin’s weakness.

His first love had been Rika. It was wrong, he knew that, but even he couldn’t control it. From the start she had belonged to Jihyun. She looked in only his way, her whispers of love only meant for his ears and no one else. Jumin never stood a chance at all, he was simply a friend to her and would always be. But in the end it was better that way, his friendship with Jihyun mattered more than a mere emotion called “love”. Jumin didn’t believe in that kind of stuff anyways, seeing his father play with so many women proved to him  how shallow “love” could be.

One day, Jihyun had suddenly arrived at Jumin’s doorstep holding something white and fluffy. It was a cat, an animal that Jumin never thought he himself would own. But the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew that he would definitely cherish the white haired feline. After that, he did his best to make her happy, giving her the best toys and feeding her the most gourmet of cat foods. He thought he was satisfied with that, a pet was good enough for him, he needed nothing else.

Then you came along.

Your sudden appearance in the chatroom had shocked everyone. You were a stranger to everyone, and yet you had access to the RFA’s private messaging app. It was even more appalling that Jihyun had let you join the organization right then and there, assuming that you were somehow related to Rika in some way. Jumin wasn’t the type to trust a person right away, but he had to at least give you a chance. If Jihyun trusted you, then Jumin would too.

Though he was wary at first, Jumin had taken a liking to you. Despite having been shoved into such an unexpected situation, you had a good work ethic and didn’t seem to be bothered by your new job. Most people would have wanted to back out and run away, but instead you stayed and accepted your position. It was also nice that Jumin could talk about his cat interests freely without being judged by you, and in fact you actually agreed with him most of the time. You were surprisingly understanding and clever at times, two things that Jumin liked in a person.

One thing led to another, and you eventually ended up staying at Jumin’s house for a few days. He was surprised to see you at his doorway, your appearance mesmerizing him as he looked you over. You had come to visit him out of concern, something no one else would have done. It touched him greatly, his heart fluttering a bit as his chest grew warm. He hadn’t felt such emotions in a while, the familiar feeling scaring him a little.

The longer you stayed, the more Jumin wanted you to stay. Sure, he didn’t believe in living together before marriage, but he could make an exception if it were you. He didn’t care anymore, for once his feelings were actually returned. If he let you leave now, what if you never came back? Rika could never be his, and Elizabeth had run away from him. You were to only one that was willing to stay with him. If that were to ever change, Jumin wasn’t sure how he would react.

“Jumin, I have to leave tomorrow. The party has to be taken care of, I can’t stay here any longer.” You suddenly said that one day, while sitting next to Jumin on one of the couches in his condo.

Ah, so it had finally happened. You were finally sick of him, weren’t you? Jumin knew this paradise couldn’t last forever, but he was prepared for this already.

“But don’t you like it here?” Jumin asked, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

You smiled a little, taking his hand in yours. “Of course I do, but I have other responsibilities, and so do you. The party is in a few days, we can’t just ignore it.”

Was that a lie? Everyone seemed to have secrets nowadays, so maybe you did too. Jumin wanted to believe in you, but there was a thought nagging at the back of his mind. She just doesn’t wanna be with you anymore, that’s why she’s trying to leave. No, he wasn’t going to lose something precious to him again. Love was a selfish feeling, just like how selfish his father was when he continually played with all those girls. Jumin didn’t want to be like him, but he understood now how it felt. He didn’t care about anything anymore, he just wanted you to stay and be his, only his.

“Let’s take a nap together first, I want to hold you before you leave.” Jumin said as he abruptly picked you up bridal style.

You blushed and let out a small laugh, unaware of what was to happen. “Alright, I was getting tired anyways.”

Jumin carried you to his bed, a place you had never been to before. He laid you down gently, smiling at how content you were with the softness of it.

“It smells like you…” You said, burying your face into his pillow.

Chuckling, Jumin settled down beside you. “You could just stay here and enjoy it forever, if you’d like.”

You shook your head, a reaction Jumin had expected. “I still have to do lots of other things before I do that.”

“Well,” Jumin scooted closer to you until his face was only a few inches away from yours. “For now let’s just sleep, and forget everything else in this world.”

You smiled, and gladly obliged to his suggestion.

Jumin guessed that you were dreaming about good things, since you were smiling in your sleep. That smile wouldn’t be seen for a while, and Jumin was sure to miss it. But it was better to see you not smile than to not see you at all. You were sure to be surprised when you woke up, and Jumin anticipated your reaction. It was kind of sickening that he was excited about this whole event, his hands trembling as he caressed your face.

He was never going to let you leave from the start.


Why were your wrists feeling so heavy? You tried to move your arms, your eyes slightly opening as you tried to adjust your position. For some reasons your arms were above your head, and they were seemingly stuck there. You looked up to inspect what was wrong, your eyes widening at what you saw. Wrapped around your wrists was a metal chain, each one chained to the headpost of the bed. Shocked, you began to sit up, but your movements were restricted by the fact that your ankles were also chained to the bed.

What was going on?

“Did you have a good dream?” Jumin stepped into the room, his face stoic as ever.

You tugged at your restraints, your mind still fuzzy due to the fact that you just woke up. “J-Jumin! Why did you do this?”

Jumin’s facial expression didn’t change as he sat next to you, not even his eyes held any emotion. Despite that, his heart thumped in excitement as he looked you over. You were so beautiful like this, chained and helpless. The metal held you down nicely, it wrapped around your limbs like an exquisite design along your skin. You would never be able to get away now, your presence would always be here. The thought made Jumin breathless, he was trying hard not to show his true feelings.

“You can’t leave, ____.” He said, reaching out and taking a strand of your hair. “You’re going to stay here forever with me.”

Was your hair always this soft? The strands between Jumin’s fingers felt like silk as he twirled it around his finger. Your frightened expression was so cute, your eyes were wide with fear, and your mouth was slightly hanging in shock. He would find good use of that part of you later. Jumin finally let his lips curve up into a smile, climbing over to tower over you.

“Your life will be spent with me, there’s no need for you to leave this place.” Jumin’s hand moved to your cheek, caressing you lightly with his thumb. “I even got a gift for you.” He reached into his back pocket, taking hold of something.

“No… Please don’t do this, Jumin.” You whimpered, unable to do anything.

Jumin shushed you, pressing a finger against your lips. “It’s alright ____, I won’t hurt you.” He kept smiling as he held up the object in his possession. “Look what I bought, it suits your taste right?”

It was a shiny black collar, a small diamond hanging from it. Jumin had gotten it customly made, he wanted it to be created with only the best materials suited for you. It was a way of showing how much he loved you, and how much he wanted you to be his. Your expression didn’t change though, in fact, you looked even more horrified. “J-Jumin… Please…”

“Be a good girl and let me put it on you.” Jumin’s voice was gentle, but you could tell there was an underlying tone of authority.

You didn’t say anything as Jumin’s hands went around your neck, the collar wrapping around your throat snugly. The diamond was cold against your skin as it settled there, sparkling beautifully as the light caught onto it. Jumin kissed your cheek, chuckling at the way you went rigid.

“You’ll grow accustomed to this, ____. It won’t be difficult, since I only plan on pampering you.” Jumin murmured, running his lips across your cheek.

Your scent made him want to go insane, everything about you made him want to lose control. But he would restrict himself for now, and gradually let you accept him. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and letting his head lay against your shoulder. Jumin would never feel the pain of not having something ever again, you were his and his to keep. If he had to be selfish, then so be it, you were better with him than with anyone else. The whole thought of it made him unable to stop smiling. Jumin loved you, he loved you so much.

“I’ll take care of you from now on, my little kitten~.” He whispered sweetly.

No one could take you away from him, ever.

Zen: It was lonely not being in a relationship. Zen hadn’t been in one for a couple of years, most of his personal time being taken up by his work. Though he did flirt a bit with women he encountered, it just never got serious. Zen really did want to have a relationship, but life was not kind at the moment, and the opportunity never came. Ah, what a sad life he lived.

For a musical actor like him, having a girlfriend was difficult. He had to deal with the fact that his fans would get super jealous, having a lover would mean that he would have to manage his time in order to have time for them, and he would have to keep his relationship on the low. His last girlfriend couldn’t deal with the difficulties, and had ended the relationship after a year. It had saddened Zen to see her go, but he still had a career to work on. Perhaps he was meant to only be a working man after all.

He didn’t expect to meet someone through the RFA.

It was a side job, something he did more out of enjoyment. It wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy his actual job too, the RFA just caused less stress than being a musical actor. Plus, the RFA had fun people like Seven, Yoosung, Jihyun, and Jaehee… Jumin not so much. Other than the cat loving freak, everyone in the RFA were basically Zen’s closest friends. He didn’t expect anything else than that, just close friendships.

Your sudden arrival didn’t bother Zen. It did surprise him, considering the fact that the app was only meant for RFA members, but he really didn’t mind. You seemed to be a nice, loving, and cute person that didn’t mean any harm, and that was enough for Zen to accept you. When you two were the only ones in the chatroom, Zen found himself enjoying the conversations more than usual. This was different from when he chatted with the other members, he knew this feeling too well.

Zen was starting to like you.

He hoped the feelings were mutual, you seemed interested enough, right? Who wouldn’t fall for Zen’s good looks? His beautiful voice? Zen had everything a woman wanted, so getting to your heart couldn’t be difficult. It was just a bit challenging since you had never met him in person before, so he couldn’t charm you properly.

There was also another slight issue. Zen wasn’t sure if it was just him being paranoid, but you also seemed to be getting close to a certain secret agent. Seven was a fun person, Zen understood that, but why were you getting so… comfortable with him? His looks were nothing compared to Zen’s, his voice couldn’t reach notes as high as Zen’s, he didn’t manage himself well like Zen.

So why?

It didn’t make any sense, nothing did. Zen was the most desirable man you had probably met, yet you were getting all chummy with a weirdo like Seven. Jealousy wasn’t something he was used to feeling, and Zen definitely didn’t like it. It was like poison flowing through his veins, taking over his body and suffocating him till he couldn’t take it anymore. It eventually started to affect his career, his mind no longer focusing on the dance routines and script readings. All he could think about was you. What did you look like? What was your favorite food? Your age? What did you like doing? Why did you like Seven so much?

The thought of the red haired man caused a rush of anger, and his heart was suddenly burning with hate.

Anger did a lot of things to Zen. It made him clumsy and unaware of his surroundings, like how it suddenly caused him to go off balance and fall to the floor. There was a sharp pain in his ankle as he fell, his body slamming down on the wood tiling.

“Zen! Are you alright?”

“Someone help him up!”

The voices merged together, forming a monstrous jumble of noises in Zen’s mind. What was going on? Why was this happening? His ankle stung and burned, the pain increasing every time he tried to move. Hands pulled him from the floor, setting him down on a nearby bench. The voices continued, asking questions and endlessly speaking. Zen didn’t bother replying, still processing what just happened. He wanted everyone to shut up, he didn’t need this right now. Eventually, he was sent to the hospital by his co-workers.

It was only a sprain, it had to be. The doctor wasn’t so keen on letting Zen go so easily, but Zen knew his own body’s capabilities. He healed faster than your average human, his ankle would be fine in a few days. Of course, the first thing he did was tell the RFA about the misfortunate event. Everyone was worried, and doubted his healing powers. You were concerned too, and it made Zen feel a little bit better. Despite that, his career was still on the line.

Staying home all day wasn’t fun. Zen had nothing to do, he couldn’t even walk properly with the cast covering his foot. Playing on his phone, watching T.V, both of those options were getting old. He wanted to dance again, his legs aching for movement. On the bright side, he had more time to chat with you. He liked phone calls the most, because then he could hear your voice. It was soothing to his ears, the sound akin to a sweet lullaby. Even so, you were still so far away and unreachable. Zen’s heart had never ached so much before.

It had been a normal day when you suddenly showed up at his door. Zen didn’t know why there was such a cute girl at his doorstep, but the moment you spoke, he knew it was you.

“Hi Zen, it’s me…” You blushed, probably not used to seeing Zen’s beauty in person.

Zen smiled, his heart rate going up as he took in your appearance.

“Nice to finally meet you, ____~!”


“You shouldn’t move around so much, doesn’t your ankle hurt?” You were so cute, looking all concerned as your eyes caught sight of the cast on Zen’s leg.

He almost couldn’t believe it, you were actually in front of him, in person. He almost couldn’t reply due to how happy he was, his only desire was to sit and stare at you all day. It was a bit creepy, but he couldn’t help it. Was this how true love felt? He had never experienced such strong emotions for someone before.

“It’s fine~! I heal like a monster, remember?” Zen chuckled, brushing off his injury easily. “Would you like anything to eat? Drink? Ask me anything!”

Zen wanted to enjoy this time with you, he didn’t want to think about complicated things. Thankfully, the day went by nicely. Zen got to talk to you a lot more than usual, and learned more about you. He didn’t know your habits and tendencies before, but now he finally did. There was no doubt about it, you were the one meant for Zen. His feelings were legitimate, there was no going back now. All he had to do now was see if you felt the same, then everything would be perfect. Everything was going smoothly until your phone suddenly went off. It was expected for something like this to happen, since you couldn’t control when or where someone would call. As you took out your phone, Zen managed to glimpse at your screen.

Anger did a lot of things to Zen, it really did. It made him clumsy and sprain his ankle a few days ago, and now it was urging him to take your phone and throw it against the wall. Why did it have to be that person to call you right now, of all people it just had to be him. The one that was taking you away from Zen, the one that was making things difficult for Zen to completely capture your heart.

“Hi Seven! Did you need something?” Your smile was bright as you spoke to the other man, your eyes apologetic as you glanced at Zen. “Oh, you just wanted to chat? I’m kinda busy right now… Sorry…”

It was horrible, the feeling in Zen’s heart. It burned, ached, stung, it hurt in all the ways possible. His chest felt heavy, like a weight had been placed onto it, suffocating him and causing for him to breath heavily. He had felt like this before in his life, but that had been a long time ago. It had happened back when he was only a teenager, young and foolish with no control of his emotions. His family had been involved of course, they were the source of all his negative feelings back then. Zen had lashed out then, almost getting violent as he shouted and screamed at his brother, then he coldly muttered something to his parents as he left the house for good. Zen’s anger never ended well, and it wouldn’t be any different this time. But he couldn’t do that to you, he would never scream or shout in your direction ever. He had to do something else to grab your attention, to make you only care about him.

He had the perfect idea.

Zen suddenly flinched, letting out a slight grunt of pain as he reached for his ankle. “Damn it…” He muttered loudly, loud enough for you to hear.

You immediately turned to Zen, the concerned expression from earlier coming back. “Zen? Are you okay? Sorry Seven, I have to go now.” You hung up, then went to hover over the white haired man.

“I don’t know what happened, my ankle suddenly just started hurting.” Zen said.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you carefully examined the injured area. “Do you need anything? Maybe I can call your doctor or something, or grab some ice?” You sounded so distressed, Zen loved it.

Zen smiled at you, making sure to look like he was still in pain. “All I need is for you to stay with me, is that okay?”

You nodded without hesitation, willing to agree with anything Zen said. “Of course it is!”

Ah, it was so perfect. You were falling into Zen’s trap so smoothly, so effortlessly. For once, Zen was actually glad you didn’t believe in his super healing, and it proved to be useful. It was also convenient that he was an actor, since faking pain really wasn’t an easy feat for just anyone. But Zen could do it, he had the skill, looks, and talent for it. He was better than everyone else, better than that red-haired menace that wanted to take you away from him.

“Hey ____, can you only pay attention to me?” Zen asked, smiling slyly as he looked into your eyes.

You blinked, a bit confused by his request. “What do you mean?”

“It just hurts so much ____, I can’t take the pain…” Zen bit his lip, leaning on you for “support”.

You were worried again, letting him lean on you. “Shh… It’s okay, where are your painkillers?”

That made Zen chuckle, losing his composure for a moment. “You’re so funny ____, don’t you know?” He lifted himself up so his face was only inches away from yours. “My painkiller is you~.”

Your blushing expression was cute, and you were too flustered to reply. Zen simply smiled, satisfied with your reaction. This was only the beginning of his plan, you were already wrapped around his finger, caught in his trap of lies. Right now you only cared about him, only thought about him, only had him. It was meant to be this way, you and Zen were made for each other. If you ever happened to somehow drift away, Zen would simply put all the attention on himself again. Cuts, bruises, broken bones, that was all nothing. He would heal eventually, the pain didn’t matter, he just needed to be your only train of thought.

If Zen had to hurt himself to be your number one priority, then he would do it for the rest of his life.  

NOT SURE IF MAH SCENARIOS ARE TOO LONG OR SOMETHING BC IT ALWAYS TAKES FOREVER TO FINISH THEM MAYBE I JUST WORK TOO HARD ON THEM OR JUST NEED TO TAKE MORE TIME TO DO IT IDEK but I hope it’s good and you all enjoyed the yandere-ness~! If you ask for sequels then I’ll definitely do it!  ヾ(。^ω^。)ノ

rakazijn  asked:

53 and/or 64 for angst/fluff prompt, please! From Souma's POV if possible :)

Of course! These are from Akai Ito universe and hope you like it!

53. “Who cares about what they think?”

Nakiri Erina came home that night, slamming the door of their penthouse with an expression as if she had a sour patch in her mouth.

“What now? Did a waiter break your crystal glass again?” Sōma, who got home an hour earlier, got a chance to sloth around on the couch with TV remote on his hand.

“Worse.” She threw her purse this time, “Apparently some low class commoner who does not understand good food gave Exposé a bad review in this website called Help.”

“You mean Yelp?”

“Ugh, whatever that is.”

He chuckled and sat up, took an interest to what could be an unpopular opinion, “Well, what did the guy said?”

Erina pulled out her phone, “It says “If you’re going to Exposé 2.0, do not order the Pates au Fruits de Mer as it is where hope goes to die. Nakiri Erina comes to expedite every service, and her beauty can’t even mend how objectively terrible that is.””

When Sōma saw her features turn positively crimson, he knew she could throw that new iPhone X anytime she wanted, so while approaching her slowly, he attempted on comforting, “Uh… okay. At least that guy thought you were cute?”

And he was on point- it almost flew out if he wasn’t there to grip her wrist, “Is that what you want in a restaurant? Where people eat because the owner slash head chef is cute?!”

“It is known as  a bonus point when you dine at Exposé, eh?”

At the same time she managed to escape his hold, she groaned as she fled away, “Ugh, you just can’t seem to read an unlaughable situation, can you?!”

Damn, why did she decide to work out.

“Aight, aight, hey!” Sōma caught up to her and took a hold of her hand. “Y’know you can’t be mad at me. I didn’t write that review.”

“That is true but could you just go on one damned second not to make infuriating jokes and be your infuriating self and–”

At this state, where her lips seemed to move faster than words that came out of her mouth with her eyes widened, face burning, and hands on her hair, he knew better than to keep being his unserious, teasing self.

So he cupped her face and forced their eyes to meet, “Oi, oi, Nakiri. Look at me.”

Her face was tensed, but when he gestured her to take a deep breath, her breathing finally mimicked his steady ones a few seconds later.

And that was where he pulled her into his embrace. She didn’t fight back to Sōma’s favor, so when he felt her resting her head on his chest, he continuously strokes her honey blonde hair.

“Feelin’ better already?”


He knew she lied, but he also knew that thing was still floating on her thoughts. “Look, that site is where people can freely express their opinions on something. Besides, everyone’s palette is different. Some like it softer, some like it harder, some like it saltier, some like it sweeter. Y’know the drill.”

She stood still, hands still clutched on Sōma’s black t-shirt.

“And let’s be real, how can you compare one bad review from a random dude on Yelp with Michelin’s restaurant of the year title, eh? Who would give a shit about what a guy think compared to that?”

Erina finally pulled away. Hair still disheveled, though no longer frantic. She tried to wipe her face and Sōma helped her tuck her strands of blonde hair behind her ear.

“So I can actually make you feel better, right?” He said smugly.

But when all Erina gestured is a simple shrug, he raised an eyebrow before suddenly lift her off the floor and carry her on his shoulder.

“H-Hey! What the hell are you doing, Yukihira?!” She yells as he made their way towards the master bedroom.

“Since words never work out, guess I’d have to physically make you feel better.”


“What? You’re saying no?”

He smirked when she doesn’t remark. Hopefully they wouldn’t be late for work tomorrow.

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Parmigiano and Anime (May I Kiss You #2)

Summary: From and unexpected breakup to a just as unexpected getting back together.

Word count: 5.2K

[A/N] I got so many lovely comments on May I Kiss You on both Tumblr and AO4 that I decided to Give the People What They Want. Okay for real, I really appreciate all the amazing comments I got so I wrote a sequel!

~~Link to May I Kiss You~~

Most evenings at ten sharp, Phil’s phone would ring twice before stopping abruptly. It was a message from Dan Howell, from 2400 kilometres away, telling him it was going to be just their voices for another night. There was no internet in the small apartment where Dan lived with his mum and two siblings, so every now and again he would go to an internet café nearby so they could Skype each other. Those were the nights on which Phil watched the minutes pass starting at ten, hoping Dan wouldn’t still ring, as it meant he would be able to Skype call him at fifteen past ten. Unfortunately, this only happened around once a month.

Sometimes Dan sent a quick text just before ten that just read ‘sono ancora al lavoro. Chiamami domani x’, meaning he was still at work and wasn’t going to make it. Those were the hardest nights.

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All you need is someone to guide you; Legolas x teen reader

Here is yet another Legolas request I got from wattpad, this one was actually my first Legolas Greenleaf request that I got to do. Now be WARNED there are hints of suicide through starvation as well as extreme self-hate so if you are uncomfortable reading about this then just skip over it or don’t read it at all. Other than that I hope u all enjoy this ;)


I’m led through the halls of Rivendell by two guards towards the council room of Lord Elrond. The Guards and I stop and sitting on his high chair was the Lord of Imladris himself.

“What is this about this time?”

“My Lord Elrond, we caught (y/n) causing a havoc among the other soldiers which in turned up injuring Lady Arwen”.  

“Is she alright?”

“She’s fine my Lord, minor scrapes because her horse was startled in the chaos but Lady Arwen is fine”. Another guard stated.

“Leave us now”. The guards released me leaving me and Lord Elrond alone. “Care to explain what the ruckus was about this time?”  

“What do you usually think? The new soldiers getting on my back of me being half human. You know if I may say Lord Elrond you should really—" 

"SILENCE!” I stopped talking and lowered my head down hoping that I would get another warning for this by showing my submissive behavior.  

He took a deep heavy sigh before stating.  

“(Y/n), you know I took you in for your mother was a dear old friend of mine, but I will not tolerate anymore behavior like this, especially when it comes to the safety of my own children. Therefore you are hereby banished from the Valley of Imladris, you are to never set foot within it’s borders, or ever try to contact any Elves here”.  

I stared at him in shock.  

Banishment? No It—it can’t be.  

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robin’s egg blue

based loosely off of 3.10 and its lovely accompanying blog post. a gift of sorts for @brandnewfashion as she’s had to listen to me blubber and cry about these past few updates over the phone 😁

It isn’t even until he sits down on Bitty’s mattress that Jack realizes he’s cold.

This early in the morning, the silence in the Haus is as deep and supple as leather. Safe, like the soft hum of a radio from behind closed doors. Perhaps it’s that safety, the sense of familiarity, that helps Jack regain awareness of his own body. Limb by limb, beat by beat. He slumps, sinking into the warm, shallow divot left behind on the mattress, the exact spot where Bitty must have been sleeping.

It’s strange—he can’t even remember much about his drive from Providence to Samwell. All he can remember is the rain, falling from the sky in sheets. The sharp, repetitive whine of the windshield wipers working at full speed. The forced pulse of his own breath. Bitty’s voice, ashamed and weary and pleading, looping on repeat through his brain.

But now he’s here, at last, with Bitty close enough to touch, and Jack aches.

“—and your pants, oh, I do hope they aren’t made of wool, honey, it’ll be a wonder if they dry by morning,” Bitty says, still trying to fold Jack’s sodden pants over a hanger. Jack knows that he’s taking longer than necessary, knows it from the way Bitty’s movements are still jagged and raw, the way his face is turned away as he fusses.

Unperturbed, Jack shrugs out of his suit jacket, drapes it over Bitty’s desk chair. Slowly begins to unbutton the dress shirt that has stuck to his arms and chest like a second skin.

He hears a soft intake of breath and looks up. Bitty is holding a towel now, standing closer than expected. His eyes seem drawn to the space between the third and fourth buttons that Jack had just wrangled free. He has his bottom lip caught fiercely between his teeth, and Jack has never seen anything braver in his life.

“You fool,” Bitty whispers again, and Jack shivers. He drops his hands from his shirt, opens his knees to invite Bitty into his space.

“Hey,” he says softly in reply.

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haphephobia (n): a fear of being touched

Nothing energized Chirrut like sparring with his fellow acolytes. He was nearing the age where he he could be accepted into full Guardianship of the Temple of the Whills, and his enthusiasm for training had only increased as the time to earn his title grew nearer. He waiting to fight his personal favorite competitor today, a tall lanky boy just a year or so older than himself, who smiled at him like they were on the same side. Of course they were, truly, but Chirrut wouldn’t hold back, never held back, and with that boy – Baze, his best friend, his closest confidant – there was no need to. An even match in every sense, the two sparred often and usually ended their fights in a draw, with a laugh and with their bond of friendship that much stronger.

They faced off, all giddy smiles and electric energy, Chirrut charging first. Baze was taller, had a longer reach, but Chirrut was fast, blindingly so, feinting left and sweeping right to take him off balance. But Baze was built solidly, too, and one strike wouldn’t quite knock him off his feet; instead he whirled around with Chirrut’s push and tried to trip him up with a kick of his leg. Chirrut, quick as the wind, leaped up and struck his hip with his knee, hard enough to pull from him a grunt of pain and nearly topple him over. He didn’t go down, but the strike threw him considerably off balance, and though he managed a sharp strike to Chirrut’s ribs, he had no momentum to follow through, forced to stumble back to stabilize himself. Chirrut took full advantage, knocking the wind out of Baze and sending him to the ground with a blur of precise hits. Victory.

Baze didn’t get up right away, but he laughed, exhausted that quickly, as he looked up at Chirrut. “When are you going to learn not to leave me an opening like that?” He gloated, grinning ear to ear.

Baze grunted in annoyance and sat up, scowling at Chirrut out of habit though both know full well there was no real animosity there. “You got lucky.”

“I don’t believe in luck,” Chirrut chirped, extending a hand to his fallen companion, which Baze dutifully ignored as he pulled himself to his feet, dusted off his robes. “And neither do you.”

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Waverly Comes Out

Hey y’all, since the next chapter of my fic is turning out to be way longer than expected, I wanted to gift this section to you before I post the whole thing. Enjoy! 


Three sets of ears perked up at the sound of tires crunching over gravel and snow outside. The engine cut and a door closed. Boots on the front steps. A musical knock.

Two parts of Waverly’s life, nearly distinct from each other, were now poised to collide. Here we go.

The knob turned and Nicole poked her head in to find three faces peering back at her, each looking their own brand of stressed.

“Morning everyone! Now don’t all jump up at once,” she said happily, prying off her boots and coming through to the kitchen with a hand behind her back, “because I brought muffins.” A white box fell heavily onto the oak tabletop. 

Wynonna looked down at it, then up at Nicole with an expression of utmost sincerity. She pursed her lips.

“I think I love you.”

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anonymous asked:

This is probably a super weird personal question, but here it goes. As a group of obvious talent (with regards to sewing/costuming) and friendship how do you go about splitting the bill? Does everyone pay for their own cosplay? I ask because I'm heading up a group cosplay for the next season and I am the pretty much the sole maker, from start to finish. My personal predicament is that these people are my friends, and I have minor professional training (1/2)

A two part question with a several part answer!

Our group consists of five people: myself (Jenn), Emmy, Christine, Kat and Shazz. 

Our skill at sewing varies. Christine is professionally taught, I am self-taught plus industry experience, Kat is self-taught, Shazz has very successfully done a few of her own costumes with sheer will power and determination, and Emmy is a highly skilled cutter and ironer who used a sewing machine once and thought it was scary but just loves to dress up. 

For the most part, Christine and I do the bulk of the sewing; with this recent Fire Emblem group, I played “leader” and was responsible for all the costumes. While the Fire Emblem group is our fourth major group project in three years, Christine and I pretty evenly handled Madoka and Sailor Moon, while I handled Shingeki no Kyogin and Fire Emblem. Obviously, that does not mean Christine and I were doing it alone: Kat, Emmy and Shazz did a lot of the prep and grunt work along the way, as did Maya, Mike, Syd, Josh, and Lauren (hail, occasional group members!) For the most part, save Kat assembling a good chunk of Madoka, Christine and I are almost always the only ones to sit in front of the sewing machines, as well as do fittings, draft patterns, organize shopping lists, plan construction, etc. That is the general gist of how our group works.

Here we go.

Before we start sewing:

The costumes are absolutely THEIR costumes, and they have to be that way; I am absolutely fine with the fact that I am doing the brunt of the work, but it is important to me that my friends feel involved, and as such, I do try to keep to a “I don’t work on it unless you’re here to help” rule. In the end, it won’t feel like their costume unless they have personally put in the time, effort and money to make it exist, so I try to make the process as involved for them as possible. Yes, this means we might spend 8+ weekends in a row together working on things. Yes, this does means sometimes costumes don’t pan out when a friend doesn’t make the effort to contribute enough to the actual construction process. It is disappointing when that happens, but it’s a very reasonable approach to ensure no one accuses anyone of being a mooch/not pulling their weight and no one feels left out or uninvolved.

Who foots the bill?

Everyone in the group pays for the cost of their own materials, whether one person orders/purchases and the other reimburses or everyone is present for shopping. I prefer people come fabric shopping with me, as it means a) they pay upfront for their materials and b) everyone is absolutely aware of the upfront cost and c) everyone has input on what fabrics and colours they like or dislike. Right from the beginning it is important to me that my friends/group members (let’s just call them friends from here on out) are very involved in the process because it is THEIR costume.

While we do try to put together cost estimates upfront these days, it is very very important to me that people in the group understand what cost they are sinking in upfront. Cosplay is expensive but I will not sew with the wrong materials: I don’t see any point in using my time and energy on a project that will look cheap, so no poly broadcloth, no cheap satins, no weird substitutes. My friends trust my judgement when I say I want to use a particular fabric for their project, so we’ve never really had this trouble, but if it ever popped up, I’d like to think I’d be open to discussion. (They also know I am thrifty as hell and will price check everything to hell and back, though.) 

If my friends wanted to take on an expensive project but they could not afford it, they would just have to wait until they could or they have to wait until they could get things for the right price. Jenn ain’t sewing any broadcloth magical girls or cheap satin fantasy fighters.

But that said, I don’t charge my friends for labour.

Here’s the jist of not charging my friends for labour:

  • They are expected to put in effort to make it happen, so some of the labour is theirs.
  • I am a hobbyist and not a professional and I don’t want to be a professional.
  • Free means no guarantee of quality. I make every attempt to make a nice garment, obviously, but if I’m doing it out of kindness then there is a strict “no nitpicking” rule if the top stitching isn’t perfectly 1/16″ all the way around or there’s a little flaw in the fabric or I couldn’t magically make Anime Lady’s completely unrealistic outfit come to life with 100% accuracy. If you want it done a certain way, you make it yourself or pay someone to follow your orders! 
  • If I charged I’d be eternally limited by their budget for labour, meaning I’d be either rushing to do it within their labour costs or I’d be stuck doing boring easy costumes forever. 
  • Doing costumes for others means I get to make costumes that I think would be fun to make without having the expense or needing to wear it. There are many costumes I think would be fun to make but would never wear myself, so my friends make excellent excuses to make these costumes.
  • In this capitalist live-to-work world, I’d rather not bring money into my friendships, especially with hobbies. I love costuming, but I have had enough experience in the professional side of garment production to loathe the idea of making my hobby my job.
  • Getting treated to dinner or getting some little gift or costume piece in return or any of those little things my friends do for me are infinitely more valuable to me than a paycheck because we do this work together as a work of heart. I almost cried when they got me an Assassin’s Creed hoodie as a gift for doing the Shingeki costumes a few years ago. I know my friends appreciate my work; they tell me in words and actions, and that makes me happy to make costumes for them.

But that said, YMMV. You might not have these reasons, and you may want to ask for reimbursement. It is perfectly fair to do so, though you will probably have a different dynamic, and that’s one I can’t speak to. But honestly, if your friends aren’t there doing a lot of the labour by your side, then don’t be shy about asking them to or else they will have to pay. Our Fire Emblem costumes probably have 60+ hours EACH. You aren’t a goddamn factory.

Time to actually make the costume:

“Outsource” everything you can. The bigger the group, the more you have on your plate. Shove things off if you don’t need them there.

Realistically, you’re working with competent people, even if they don’t have sewing skills: find something for everyone to do. Amongst so many other things, Emmy and Shazz can vector and design, Kat does wigs and make-up, etc, etc, etc. EVERYONE HAS HANDS. Can you hold a pair of scissors? Can you thread a needle? Can you use an iron? You can help!

If you don’t need to do it yourself, pass it off to your friend. Make all the pattern pieces, have your friend cut them out. Mark where a snap goes, have your friend sew it on. Pin the pattern pieces superficially, have them finish and cut. You sew, they iron. You give them the pieces, they apply interfacing. You hate making armor, let someone in the group who likes that stuff handle that project.

This is the only reason I can take on a group of 6-7 costumes at once — even if I’m doing The Hard Parts, I don’t do it alone, and everyone gets to feel very involved. Yes, sometimes people make an effort on another person’s costume if that is what it takes to get the job done: it took Kat, Emmy and Shazz a few hours to cut out and fuse all of Lucina, but together they cut the job down to hours when it would have taken just Shazz a whole evening, or me a few days. We are a team! We are a group! We get together to get shit done. NOBODY is useless in a group because everyone is capable of doing SOMETHING to contribute, even if it’s running an errand, helping tidy up the work space, teaching another or doing some research.

A caveat: to pass something off, they have to know what they are doing:

Be prepared to sit down and teach. For example, I can pass things to Kat or Emmy and say “do this please” and 99% of the time it’s all good no questions asked, but when I have Syd on board it might take a while because before this recent group she had never cosplayed before. Walking her through the process of cutting takes a lot longer than doing it myself, but if I didn’t take that time, she wouldn’t learn! Your friends are undoubtably intelligent, crafty people who want to help. Show them how to help make their costumes and make them feel valued and it will never feel like work. I showed Kat how to do a basic decorative stitch the other day, and then she taught Emmy, and Emmy taught Syd. Boom – all that embroidery done.

And that said, if they think that cutting and interfacing and ironing seem like tedious, unglamorous jobs, then you tell them that you are MOST GRATEFUL that they get the bulk of it out of the way for you. Drafting and the “set up” are possibly the most time consuming part of sewing, and your friends are helping you to a great degree by getting it out of your way. It is a crucial part of the process. It is SO important. I would never do these group projects if I had to cut, face, iron, etc all these pieces myself.

Now, some other things before you take this on your shoulders:

You will have one moment in every major project where you want to throw your hands up in the air and say FUCK IT, I AM DONE. This is normal. It is perfectly natural to be entrenched in a project for months and be frustrated with it when setbacks happen. Don’t let that moment get the best of you: step back for a weekend or week or whatever and then get back on the horse. You are only human and sometimes projects don’t go 100% smoothly. 

My FUCK IT, I AM DONE moment for the Fire Emblem group was Olivia’s armor. Fuck getting a smooth surface on worbla; I gave up and just painted it, wore it just long enough to go to the photoshoot, took it off, and now I’m remaking it the way I want it to be.

Deep breaths, reassess, keep going. 

Communicate with your friends. Don’t be afraid to tell people when they are being unreasonable with your time or skills. When people don’t know how garment construction works, sometimes they get wild ideas (like making knife pleats come out of a plain shirt without a waist seam! Thanks Kill la Kill ;)) that you will have to temper and make compromises on. You are doing the garment making: while you should absolutely consider their opinions and ideas, ultimately you have the final say because you are leading this project and your know-how and expertise allows you to do so. Teach them why it won’t work and show them how it can be done instead. Make costumes that they’ll enjoy and feel good in, but don’t let their heads run away with them – so many of these costumes were not designed to be worn in real life.

Last point: I would be amiss to not mention this, though I feel it is something of a downer note at the end of a post. That is this: 

You may end up putting your own costume(s) on the back burner for this group, and you may find yourself doing it again and again. If you’re kind enough to lend your time and skills to such a big project, then odds are you are also kind enough to be self-sacrificing in your own costumes. If you don’t think you can love the group before your own cosplay as an individual, group costuming as the primary seamstress may be very hard for you.

There are many projects I would have done over the years if I wasn’t committed to my groups — I admit sometimes I look at other cosplayers’ blogs and see them in 6-7 different costumes a year or doing something new every month and think, “Wow, I only did one costume for myself, and there were so many more I wanted to do! I wish I had the time and energy they have!”

And then I remember: “Oh. I HAVE made seven costumes this year and it’s only May. Right! It just so happens that only one is mine.”

If you take an intense amount of pride in personally wearing what you make, this probably isn’t a great feeling. Me, I enjoy making costumes more than wearing them these days, so that’s not so bad, but I still feel a little down sometimes when I think about the costumes I’d love to do or have put off over and over again for someone else’s costumes (Lara Croft, Ezio Auditore, etc.) Its a reality of making other people’s costume dreams come true, but fortunately I get a great deal of satisfaction out of making these group costumes, so it works out in the end. How you feel about it is up to you and what kind of person you are, or what you get out of cosplay.

That’s all I’ve got for tonight. :)

All my love to my Ladies and my group members and cosplay friends who have given me so many wonderful project opportunities over the years and continue to do so. I can’t wait until we wrap up FEA round 1 and start round 2!!!

- Jenn

"Looking Too Closely", a post season eleven Japril narrative fanfiction

Set following the season eleven finale, April reflects on her and Jackson’s relationship and how far they’ve come to be where they are now. Contains mild angst.

This was originally set out to be a tragedy, but the writing took a turn and things just kind of took off from there. I went with it, and ended up here. So basically, it’s a narrative on their relationship from the get-go, and tackles the way I think April is currently feeling right now. So, please let me know if you enjoyed this, and hopefully it’s in-character and great. :)

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Imperfections [Taehyung Angst / Fluff] Part 1

Genre: Fluff / Angst (later on)

Summary: “I saw that you were perfect and so I loved you. Then I saw that you were not perfect and I loved you even more.”

Everyone associated him with perfection.

Girls chased desperately after him, waking up early in the morning just to arrive at school before everybody else, securing the front most spot at the concourse where they would open his car door for him and sneakily try to pass him a gift.

Boys wanted to be him, styling their hair according to what his was, not buttoning the top button on their uniforms, thinking it was style when really, he was just lazy to and besides, the weather was horrible.

You snickered at how the guys looked hideous sometimes, muttered comments about how the girls made themselves out to look like clowns with their voices all screechy and fake but deep down, you knew the truth. You loved him too.

Sure, you didn’t scream whenever he was in sight, you didn’t bake cupcakes and write love letters to be given to him along with the other hundreds of gifts but that didn’t mean that you didn’t care. Being loud about your feelings and bold in trying to shove your face into his just wasn’t you. But people didn’t get that. They thought that you were the weird one who didn’t have feelings, lacked emotions. After all, no one could understand why you didn’t fall in love with him and all his perfections and beauty. Of course they couldn’t, you wouldn’t be able to understand how anyone could not be captured by him yourself. No one knew, because you were too quiet. Even the Mr Popular himself thought that you hated him which was intriguing because you were different from everybody else.

Two years went by and your feelings for him managed to be kept a secret. Avoiding him was easy too as you were smart, but not as smart as him, therefore the both of you were never in the same class. Year Three came, the last year before graduation and you hoped that things would stay as per normal. You would keep your feelings to yourself and admire him from a distance, unlike your other schoolmates who would claw their way through any obstacle just to be in the 5 meter radius around him. But this time, you couldn’t avoid him any longer. Never did you think that one day, after all the successful shunning away from him, you would hear your teacher say, “Kim Taehyung, please take a seat next to ________ over there.”

Of course, you were shocked and you were scared. Maintaining the image of the mysterious girl who felt nothing for the Kim Taehyung was not easy. Trying to keep your cool whenever he passed by you and suppressing your screams whenever he made eye contact was probably the hardest thing you’ve had to do throughout your entire school life but it had to be done. It was cliche to say it but there were so many prettier, smarter and richer girls out there who loved him just as much as you did. They would wake up early to cook for him and buy gifts for him. They would scream for him and fight for him. Why, would he ever notice you amongst the loud crowd which drowned out anyone and anything else?

“Hi _______! You’re the famous one for being the only girl in the entire school who doesn’t like me huh?” Taehyung joked and you had to mentally give yourself a slap across the face to prevent a wide smile from breaking out.

“You got it wrong. I like you, but I’m not overly obsessed with you.” Truth was, you loved him to bits but you wouldn’t say it to save yourself from embarrassment due to a probable rejection.

Taehyung pouted cutely in a way that made your heart beat fast and your mind to stop thinking. “I heard from people that you hated me.” But you had to keep your cool. Letting him realize just how much more he was in your eyes wouldn’t do either of you any good.

“Just because I don’t scream when I see you or give you gifts doesn’t mean I hate you Taehyung. Maybe it’s normal for them to do so which makes me seem weird but hate is a very strong word.”

Lips curling up into a smile, he stuck out two fingers to form a ‘v’ which was his signature move which had sent many girls squealing. “Then let’s be good friends, yeah?”

“Good friends? Yah, why don’t we start by being friends?” You laughed, and as you did, you didn’t notice but Taehyung was staring at you with a loving gaze, a gaze that he never looked at anyone else with before. Your laughter was beautiful and he loved the sound of it. 

“Fine fine. Whatever you want ________.”

School life with him was amazing. People were talking, the both of you knew. They must have been surprised when Taehyung suddenly became so close to the girl who was known not to have any interest in him. You were starting to think that maybe avoiding him in the past wasn’t the best choice. Even if he would end up with some other girl, even if he wouldn’t love you like how you did, you wouldn’t mind being his good friend if that meant that you would be able to be around him comfortably. Some jealous girls liked to spread things about you faking your indifference towards Taehyung to gain his attention but the rumours wouldn’t last for long simply because Taehyung wouldn’t allow them to. He would protect you, tell the rest that you did not really care much about him, which was the truth, but it definitely wasn’t to attract his attention.

Not all of them hated you of course. You still had your good friends who stuck by you no matter what and those who literally stuck right next to you every time just to get close to Taehyung but you didn’t really mind. As long as they weren’t mean and as long as they didn’t tell lies about you, you were fine.

There was, one incident that made the headlines. Every single student knew about it and there were many comments going around, more than you had ever seen before.

Your English teacher had introduced a project to be done which would take almost half a year to complete. It wasn’t really a big one, making up 10 percent of your grades but it was rumored to very interesting. 

“So this project is to be done in pairs. Once you are told what is to be done, you’ll understand why one can’t do it alone.” Your teacher said with a small laugh as she wrote the words ‘This Friend’. This friend? Those two words sparked the curiosity of all the students and murmurs amongst each other could be heard, the volume rising higher and higher as everyone had their own guesses of what the project could be.

“So, please form pairs and then I’ll tell you all what’s to be done-”

“________!” Taehyung looked at you and clapped excitedly, gaining the attention of all your classmates.

“Taehyung~” the other girls whined as they shot out of their seats and straight to his desk as he shot out his hands in defense.

“Woah woah woah calm down.” He laughed nervously and you rested your head on the table tiredly, waiting for some more expected coos and fluttering of eyelashes from them.

Taehyung leaned against you and your head shot up in shock. “I want _______! You want me, right ________?” And that was it. The famous words from the genius Kim Taehyung which went around the entire school and came out of almost everyone’s mouths. You want me right? His words were stuck deep in your head. Well, your answer was stuck in his head too. Of course Tae. Why wouldn’t I?

You didn’t regret choosing him. Despite all the lips that started moving and you suddenly becoming the centre of attention alongside Taehyung, you were glad that you had him as your partner.

“So as you all already know, the title is ‘This Friend’. For this project, you’ll have to get to know your partner whom you all chose as well as you can for the next 5 months. On the first day of June, all of you will have to submit an essay on what you like about him or her. Simple right? Okay that’s it!”  You turned your head to look at Taehyung and burst out laughing when he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“We have to become good friends ________~” Ruffling his perfect hair, you looked right into his eyes and whispered softly so that only he could hear.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

A/N: Heyy guyss!! So this was quite short but more is to come~~ I’m not so sure whether to make this a slightly longer one (3-4 parts) or end it with a longish part 2…feel free to tell me which one you’d prefer!! Also, I’m planning to add in several other people inside as sub characters so feel free to tell me who you would want to be featured inside! (personally I think a cheeky Seungkwan will be so cute) Requests are also open! Tq for all da luv<33

~admin clef

Here, Have some fluff.

Title: Rub me the right way (I’m sorry, any other title was wrong)

Summary: Dean/Castiel. AU - Dean needs a massage.  3k words. Fluff.

Also on AO3.

“Welcome to Paradiso day spa, how can I help you today?”

Dean just about turned around and left right there. There was literally nothing in the softly-lit lobby didn’t remind him of how stupid this was. From water was cascading serenely down a large black stone in the corner, to the shelves of products and candles arranged just so, to the soothing music, to the smell like he’d walked into one giant lotion bottle. Among the sea of sage green walls and river rocks in his worn jeans and busted up leather jacket he felt like stain on a nice suit.

“Sir?” The kid behind the counter couldn’t even be old enough to drink, maybe even vote and he looked at Dean with wide, expectant eyes. “How can I help you today?”

“Huh?” Dean grunted back. “Oh, uh…yeah, I…well my sister-in-law, she gave me this…this gift certificate at Christmas,” Dean explained, avoiding the kid’s confused stare and fishing the crumpled piece of paper from his jacket pocket. “It was a joke, I think but…” Dean ran his hand through his hair nervously. The gesture only served to aggravate the pain in his shoulder that had driven him here. “Son of a…” Dean exclaimed then sighed. “I think I need a massage.”

“Oh, of course,” said the kid, whose nametag stated in elegant calligraphy that he was called Samandriel. Weird, but…ok.  “Let me see what we have available,” Samandriel chirped, turned to his monitor and began clicking eagerly.

“Thanks,” Dean muttered. The stupid gift certificate from Jess had been sitting smugly in his wallet for months now. Dean was willing to bet it had just been waiting for a day like today to remind himself of its existence. A day when he’s been waist deep in the innards of a 2004 Taurus when his neck had decided to start pinching, then spasming, then fucking in pain every time he moved wrong.

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Just spitballing here but

It’s only after, when he’s got wet leaves and mud stuck to the ass of his jeans and it feels like his elbows are bleeding and he’s breathing hard into the forest floor, body hunched protectively over the child until someone gives him the all-clear that his brain catches up to everything and he starts to panic. 

In the moment? In the moment he’d been fine. Just another Saturday night in Beacon Hills, complete with a skin-stealing serial killer with a taste for the supernatural. No big deal.

But right then, after, when the whole forest is suddenly dead silent except for the pounding of his blood in his veins and his wet gasps for breath, then it kicks in and Stiles isn’t ashamed to say he freaks out a bit. 

The kid squirms in his arms until they’re face to face; sets one tiny hand on each of his cheeks and looks him right in the eye and says, “It’s okay now,” sounding older than she looks. She looks about four and waif-thin, her face over-taken by large eyes and a rosebud mouth. She’s something, he knows that much, but he’s not entirely sure what. 

“Thanks,” he manages, adds, “thank you,” and rolls off her to lay gasping on his back, looking up at the tree canopy. “Are you okay?” he asks after he gets his breath a little more under control.

“That she is well is thanks entirely to you,” says a third voice, and Stiles is up and crouched in front of the kid in a heart beat.

And that’s when he notices that other than him, other than the girl and this stranger - who bears a striking resemblance to her, actually - the forest is silent. Not quiet. Silent. As in not even the leaves are moving. There’s no wind. It’s like the whole world is on pause. Even the corpse is unnaturally still, somehow.

“While admirable, your defense of my child is no longer required,” the woman says. She has that same, strange other-wordliness to her, which seems like a good sign, but Stiles doesn’t relax until the girl steps around him and joins the woman of her own free will. 

“Glad I could help,” Stiles finally settles on, rising to his feet. “Cute kid you’ve got there.”

“We owe you a debt of gratitude,” she replies, resting one hand on the kid’s head. “One favour. Name your wish.”

Stiles isn’t stupid. He’s read every fairy tale there is at this point, and every book he could get his hands on through Peter or Derek or Deaton or Lydia. “Her being unharmed is reward enough,” he says carefully. Gifts tend to come with price tags.

He doesn’t expect the tinkling laughter the two produce; more like the sound of a set of tiny bells than any noise a human throat could approximate. “Rest easy,” she says. “I give you my word there will be no trickery, no hidden cost or twisting of your wish. Onnly one wish granted without strings.” 

Something about the way she says it, about the way the little girl is so comfortable in her presence makes him believe her. And his first thought is his mom, alive and healthy again, or never sick in the first place but–

But if that were the case he’d only wind up being a disappointment to two parents instead of one. But if the Hales had never died, if the fire had never happened, then.. then maybe Derek’s life would be better, and Scott would never be bitten, and Lydia wouldn’t have PTSD and, just maybe, Stiles wouldn’t be a total disappointment to his dad, either. Maybe. 

The woman looks down at her daughter before Stiles can even give voice to the thought. “What say you?” she asks; crouches down to hear something the kid whispers into her ear before nodding, turning back to Stiles. “Consider the other a gift from my child directly,” she says, and that’s the last thing he remembers before he blacks out.

Fic: Poem Without Words (3/?) (M)

Author’s note: My goal of updating both of my ongoing stories continues! Yay! Enjoy!

Also found: / AO3

Chapter 3

It was still raining on Monday. Killian tucked his sketchpad into his bag before heading to campus. He’d tried to distract himself all day Sunday, cleaning his little house from top to bottom. He was stunned at how much rubbish he’d accumulated in the few years he’d been there. Worst of all was his studio; wadded up paper, bits of charcoal, old smelly paint thinner, torn canvas littered the space. His two large rubbish bins were overflowing by the time he was done, but he felt like he’d accomplished something.

And it kept him from giving in to his urge to sketch Emma as he’d found her the day before, wet and bewitching.

To say he was stunned to meet her, just walking along, would be an understatement. Robbed of his opportunity to try his hand at a subject other than Emma Swan, he’d found her without even trying. She  walked out of the wet mist like some sort of sprite, wearing that ridiculous poncho. Killian had no idea what possessed him to ask her to the gallery; he never dreamed she’d accept.

The ensuing hours were some of the most enjoyable he’d had in a long time. Sharing his passion for art with her…it reminded him why he loved it so much. And he thought—or rather hoped—he’d seen a spark in her eyes. Despite their fairly limited acquaintance, there was a serenity and ease to their conversation. The silences didn’t feel awkward and when she asked him a rather pointed personal question…he very nearly answered her with the ugly unvarnished truth.

He wasn’t that big a fool.

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Guardian- Step two-

Step two was simple.  It hadn’t actually been planned ahead of time, but what could he say, things happen.  Being stuck in the Falls he was draining a lot of energy affecting Pine Tree’s dreams all the way in Piedmont.  

And he had far more important things to use that energy on.

He glanced from his window- watching Pine Tree on the bus back to the Falls- to his latest project, only half formed.  He had forgotten how much energy and time went into making a vessel.  Possession was so much simpler.

And Bill was a perfectionist.  Everything had to be just SO, not a hair or stitch out of place, thin but tall enough to still be imposing, and proportions- human proportion were HARD.  Yes he definitely needed to dedicate more time and energy to this- it would be worth it in the long run.

No matter what Pine Tree would be wrapped around his perfect little finger.

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