**please don’t repost/plagiarize this story. Reblogs are fine**
warnings: mentions of sexual content, explicit language & attempts at an attack
Despite everything that’s being said about me (even if most of them are true), I genuinely did love Liz Allan, and she was honestly the first one I have ever been intimate with.
I met her on the academic decathlon team and recall joining it solely for the purpose of getting closer her, the team’s captain. I was in love with the waves of her dark hair and constantly imagined what her smooth, mocha skin would taste like against my lips.
When we started dating, it was like a dream come for me.
Sometimes I forget how prejudice the Black community is towards the LGBT community. Especially our trans people. I have never understood the hatred that we as a community have. It’s like we are so used to policing ourselves and others, that when someone is not the “norm” we automatically shame, chastise, and beat them into being “normal”. But we as a people have always stood out and have never been “normal”. Which I believe is one of the reasons we are hated, envied, and feared.
My point is if this person who lives in our community is living their truth, let them.
Peter couldn’t hide the grin from his face the more he talked to this girl. She clearly had an intelligence that matched her beauty, and that just made him all the more interested in her. [Name] embodied everything he ever wanted in a girl, and he looked forward to getting to know her better.
Unlike the girls at Midtown who only wanted him for his looks and for the chance to climb up the social ladder, he knew that [Name] was different. They never wanted to get to know who was beneath this cool guy exterior, and Peter was tired of pretending all the time.
Which was why he was was so drawn to [Name], maybe with her, there was a chance.
Pairing: Mafia!Wonho x Reader
Words: 3.5k words
Genre: Angst, Mafia AU, slight violence and profanities ahead.
Νote: I came up with this all of a sudden. Please forgive any errors and I hope you enjoy!
Cigarettes, vodka, unending nights, bruises; that’s pretty much what describes Wonho.
Flowers, water, sleepless nights, bruises; and that’s you.
He exhales smoke, and you inhale his smoke. You do not know which is more dangerous.
Months of dating and staying in different places with Wonho gave you all the opportunities to experience something you’ve never felt before.
Being with him is a mix of ecstasy and tragedy. You clearly left your fears to be with him. You turned your back to your past principles just to face a new one with him.
But it is sure isn’t an easy life.
Going home after weeks with a bag on his shoulder containing all the money he made to buy anything the both of you wished; and to seal every promise he made you just before you were his— became a routine.
You mostly wakes up in the middle of the night just to see him taking a sip on his cigarette while looking at the new view from the top floor of an espensive hotel. The city lights dancing along with his irises. Different night, different city. Same situation.
You didn’t complain, you never do. Because with Wonho, you get to experience a lot of things. You get to taste any food you wanted to eat, every place you wanted to visit. With Wonho, nothing is impossible. And that’s enough for you.
REQUEST FOR ANGSTY LAFAYETTE X READER?? LIKE READER IS HIS WIFE IN FRANCE (THIS WON’T BE HISTORICALLY CORRECT) BUT THE BRITISH STORM FRANCE AND LAF GETS ALL WORRIED BECAUSE HE’S HEARD OF THE ATTACK? AND THEN HIS WIFE GOES TO AMERICA BUT SHE’S EITHER PREGNANT/SICK/INJURED? IDK, JUST ANGSTY LAF X READER PLEASE!!
Word count: 1822
Warnings: Brief mention of injuries,
A/N: Hey hey! I’m so sorry this took so long but um…Here it is! I did change the reason Laf gets freaked (because I couldn’t figure out how to make an invasion work I’m so so so sorry) and it’s not as angsty as I would have hoped but I hope you still like it!
Lafayette had been in America for almost a full year, and
the only contact he had with you was an occasional letter. It was becoming
harder and harder to keep in contact, and the stress of not knowing how you
were was beginning to wear on the Frenchman. He’d lay awake for days at a time,
simply worrying and wondering how you were doing. He knew it had been his
decision to come to America without you, and more specifically without telling you, but now he was beginning to
regret his decision.
Whenever a letter from you arrived, he would drop everything
if able to be able to read it. This is how he learned of the birth of his
daughter, of her subsequent sickness and near miraculous recovery. You were
constantly assuring him that all was well, that he needn’t worry about anything
but returning home safely, but he couldn’t help it. He knew the neighbors would
help take care of you, but he still kicked himself every day for his decision
to leave you behind.
After the war, once it was safe for you to travel over, he
would get you on the first ship to America. He reminded himself of his vow
every day, and used it as motivation whenever his spirits were low and it felt
like things were crumbling around him. Do it for Y/N, do it so that his family
could cross the seas and arrive in a safe country.
On one of the few days that personal letters arrived in camp
and were distributed, a young man approached Lafayette with a smile.
A/n: Thank you guys so much so far for the request! Keep
sending them in! Hope it was okay that I made up a character? Highkey listened
to Michael Jackson’s “Rock with You” and “The Way You Make Me Feel” during the dance part to get in the groove
for something suggestive. Highly suggest listening to it while you read!
#4: “Damn baby!” #8: “Who knew you could move like that!”
Warnings: Language, a little spicy, honestly with these two
prompts + Jeff how could I not make it spicy?
It was one of the biggest nights for a high school career.
The winter formal. She was nervous, boy was she nervous. Her hands shook and
her stomach was doing flips. She was nervous for her boyfriend’s look on his
face. He doesn’t know what dress she picked out. The only people who do know
are her mom, and her best friend Hannah Baker.
The dress was a beautiful deep dark purple. It highlighted
her skin, and eyes perfectly. Hannah and her were at her house getting ready.
Hannah helped her get ready. She curled her beautifully long dark chocolate
brown hair into the perfect waves. Black eyeshadow rimmed her eyes, pulling the
piece perfectly together.
She was shocked by how well Hannah had made her up. Feeling
like a princess in a fairy tale. It was Hannah’s turn now. She made her look
beautifully. Both of their reactions happy. They were best friends after all.
Her dad’s voice sounded from downstairs making her anxiety
climb higher and higher.
“Hun! Jeff’s here!” He yelled up the stairs.
Hannah looked at her with the biggest smirk on her face.
Hannah went downstairs first. She could hear Hannah talking to Jeff.
“You should turn around, you can’t see her yet.” She heard
“Okay Y/N! Showtime!” Hannah yelled up the stairs.
She took a deep breath, her heart beat bumping so fast.
Slowly she walked down. Before she got to the bottom Hannah mentioned for Jeff
to turn around. When he did he looked mesmerized.
A second later he yelled, “Damn baby!”
This caused her, her parents, and Hannah to laugh. She
walked the last three steps and was pulled closer to Jeff in a hug. They let go
and he put on her black corsage. Jeff looked stunning in his dark suit. Her
mother insisted on taking pictures, which they all agreed. But after a while it
was time to go.
Hannah left in her car so she could go pick up a few
friends. She and Jeff left in his.
“You look so fucking hot right now.” Jeff said. This caused
her to blush.
“You look handsome as hell.” She replied with a suggestive
After a short drive they had pulled up. The beat of the
music echoing out into the night. Jeff got out quickly after parking and rushed
to her side. He opened the door and held out his hand.
“M’lady.” Was the only thing he said. It set her into a fit
of giggles before taking his hand and stepping out.
“Thank you sir.” She said, having him laugh. Their
relationship was always so playful. They linked arms and gracefully walked into
the dance. The lights flashed and bodies danced in between the spaces.
They rushed to dance floor. Setting their bodies in motion.
Both moving to any beat that was playing.
After a slow song, Jeff left her for a brief moment. Her
eyes followed him as he quickly walked towards the DJ booth. She could see him
talking to the DJ before quickly rushing back to her. A quick sound of a drum busted
into a song. Making her smile up at him. It was one of their first songs they
had ever danced to. Michael Jackson’s “Rock with You.” The beat of the song automatically
set her grooving along. Jeff came up behind her, dancing right alongside her. Her
hips swayed and popped at the right moments. A shiver was sent down her spine.
Jeff had leaned closer to her.
knew you could move like that.” He whispered, making her
This was the perfect way to end a night. Dancing with the
person she loved most in this world.
Keith stared intensely at Lance and Pidge, visibly biting down on a pizza crust. “Y'all are weak,” they told them. Lance and Pidge had been setting their crusts aside, and for Keith, that was the Ultimate Weakness Sign.
“Uh,” Lance started to retaliate, “No. You’re just a total weirdo, tbh.”
“Don’t say ‘tbh’ out loud, Lance.” Pidge was frowning, she looked like she was exaggerating being very tired. “I love you, you’re very important to me, but don’t do that, omg.” She set the crust on the pizza she’d just finished eating aside, and both Keith and Lance were staring at her now.
“So Lance can’t do it, but you can?” Keith had already had a judgy eyebrow raised at her for being a Pizza Weakling, but if possible, it got judgier.
Not skipping a beat, Pidge said, “Yes. I’m cute so I’m automatically exempt.” She smiled, to show off how cute she was.
“I’m cute, too!” Lance huffed, tearing the top off of his pizza slice with his teeth instead of biting into it like a normal human being.
“Yea, Lance is cute, too,” said Hunk, and Keith nodded and made a humming sound in agreement.
“You’re right,” Pidge conceded. “But is he–” She adjusted her glasses, and smirked a bit, “–the cutest?”
“No?” Keith looked confused, “That’s Hunk,” they said, and Hunk suddenly looked very sheepish, while Lance straight up “whoop!”’d to signify he agreed.
“Aw, thanks, Keith,” said Hunk, rubbing the back of his neck. “You too, Lance.”
“I actually… have no argument against that,” Pidge conceded, “You’re right. I can’t even be mad that you think he’s cuter than me, because you’re right.”
“I have to leave, right now, immediately,” said Hunk, who was terrible at taking compliments, “All this love you guys are giving me? It’s overwhelming, and I love all of you, so much. Thank you. I’m just. I’m overwhelmed.”
“You take as much alone time as you need,” said Lance, “We love you and we’re glad you’re taking care of yourself.”
Keith said, “Yep.” and they smiled at Hunk, and Pidge smiled at Hunk while nodding.
“Aw, thanks guys, I love you,” said Hunk, before going off to find a quiet place to scream because he loved his friends and they loved him so much and they never failed to remind him and sometimes he felt so full of love he was afraid his heart would actually explode.
Pidge was the one to continue the conversation after Hunk was gone, “Okay, now back to Keith calling us weak…”
“Y'all are weak,” said Keith again, and they shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s just facts, what you do with pizza crusts is what the weak do with pizza crusts.”
“Keith, have you ever seen an actual human being eat pizza before now?” Pidge asked, doing her best to feign genuine curiosity.
“I’m blocking you,” said Keith, “I’ll do it.”
“You don’t even have any social media to block her on.” Lance reminded them, and Keith smiled.
“That’s what the government wants you to think.”
“….omg,” said Pidge and Lance, simultaneously. The next day, they told Hunk, and they scoured the internet for any trace of Keith. Hunk suggested they just ask Keith, but Keith was having too much fun being needlessly elusive when they tried. They told Hunk in private and made him swear not to tell Lance or Pidge, and Hunk didn’t tell them. It was like he was a secret spy, but he had no idea whose side he was on.
You moved from behind the door eyes wide. “Please don’t call him back. Do you have any idea what he’ll do to me?!”
Lin watched as you began to list the types of revenge Daveed would bestow on you. He still held onto his pants to keep them from falling. He was wearing nothing but tighty whiteys under them after all. He looked in as you gestured with your hands, a quality he has grown in love with since meeting you.
“And ya know. I wouldn’t be in this predicament if the dance for ‘Say No To This’ didn’t change,” you continued. You were pacing at this point.
You pointed a finger in his direction. “Why did it change?!”
Lin blinked. “Well… I had them change it,” he replied softly.
The anger in your eyes diminished at his answer. “I’m sorry. What?”
Lin moved forward and placed a hand on your cheek. “You’re a really smart girl but when it comes to romance, you’re completely dense.”
Lin stepped closer to you, his dark eyes starting into your own. “I’ve been trying for months to get my feelings across [F/Name].” His voice was just above a whisper. “Stares. Coffee dates. Working one on one with you in secluded places…And then you started to avoid me. And that hurt.”
You stared at him. You had spent months suppressing the feelings you had for him because you strive for professionalism in the workplace. There was always the crush on Lin festering just on the edge of your heart but you believed that the stares, dates, and one on ones were to make sure you stayed on top of your game no matter how much these made you heart beat faster. Avoiding him was a defense mechanism that you automatically set up. You weren’t trying to but to avoid possible heartbreak, you shut him out. No feelings to get in the way. It wasn’t like he had feelings for you anyway. But…
You were so lost in thought that you didn’t realize Lin’s lips were on your neck. His tongue swirled as he tasted the exposed parts of your neck.
“That’s when I gave Jasmine a much needed break,” he said between kisses. His arm wrapped around your back. When your bodies touched, you realized how sweaty you still were.
You let out a stuttered sigh when Lin bit down on your collar bone. “I-I didn’t mean to. It’s just-”
Lin pressed his lips to your cheek while he unlaced the back of your dress. “I wanted to be close to you. Just up pressed against me. You have no idea how crazy you make me on a daily basis, ” he growled. Your corset loosened tremendously and your body was able to breath again.
You leaned back to look into his eyes. They were glazed over with lust and beads of sweat was rolling down his face.
“It broke my heart to see you on Daveed earlier,” he mumbled. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours.
“I didn’t think you held feelings for me,” you said.
Lin smirked before tugging on the sleeves of your dress. “Or you were too stubborn to notice.” You laughed.
“Okay. Maybe that’s true.” You looked into each other’s eyes. His eyes asking the question. You bit your lip, nodding.
His lips captured yours. He ripped the top half of the dress off, leaving you in a black lace bra. “Don’t worry. You won’t be a pastime to me, ” he mumbled against your lips.
You shuddered as his fingers ghosted up and down your back. Your hands found their way to his ruffled shirt and unbuttoned it. You ran your nails over his torso. He let out a breathy moan before latching onto your neck again sucking. Lin quickly undid the buttons to your skirt revealing matching panties.
You pushed his shirt off, letting it hit the floor. You reached a hand to his ponytail hair, pulling the hairband off. His hair feathered around your face And you grabbed a hold of it.
He dropped his pants, stepping out from them and kicked them to the side. Lin stopped his assault on your neck to wrap his arms under you thighs and around his waist.
You pulled his face to capture his lips again. Your lips moved in sync, hands running through his hair. You lifted your hips, pushing your crotch to his. He responded eagerly with a thrust, a low moan escaping his lips. He walked to the couch and dropped you onto it.
Your breath was heavy as he went down on his knees. He looked into your eyes and seeing your own lust filled gaze, lifted your leg and left wet kisses down it. You threw your head back when his kisses reached the seam of your panties. You moaned as Lin licked your covered crotch slowly. He did this several more times each lick getting slower and slower. You could feel the wetness from the teasing growing into a pool.
“Goddammit Lin, ” you growled. He chuckled, pushing his sweat drenched hair away from his face. He pulled your panties to the side exposing swollen lips. With a finger, he swiped up between them. He sucked the precum from his finger with a satisfying hum. He pulled your panties off and placed his mouth over your core.
You bucked your hips forward when his tongue entered your slits. Damn he has a long tongue! You could feel him twisting and flick your clit like a master. His hands pushed down into your hips when you grew eager for release. Your moans were sure to alert others of what was happening but you didn’t care.
You grabbed the back of his head, pressing his mouth as close as you can. He laughed into you and a shiver ran up your spine.
Just when you were to release, he moved back earning a whine from you. He leaned back, rubbing his erection through his underwear. Licking your lips, you pushed Lin down onto his back. You hungrily pulled off the fabric and grabbed the pulsing appendage.
You licked the tip, swirling your tongue around it. You watched his back arch when you took some of him in your mouth. You gave one hard suck.
“FUCK!” Lin screamed and moaned together. You smiled, relaxing you throat to engulf him as best as you could. You bobbed your head up and down, using your hand to simulate what you couldn’t take. You took pride in watching him squirm under you. Sweat glistening his body. Muscles rippling. Moans filling the room.
Lin pulled himself out of your mouth and in one swift movement, got you under him on the floor. With one hand, he squeezed your covered breast. The same hand slid down your sides.
“You know you could’ve said no to this,” he stated.
You rolled your eyes. “Just fuck me Lin.” He leaned down, lips a centimeter from yours.
“I don’t fuck [F/Name]. I can only make love.”
He slowly entered you, your walls clenching his length. You both groaned as he filled you.
He started moving with even thrusts. Each time he pulled out, he made sure he went in harder than before. Your kisses became passionate when he became sloppy with his movements. Lips sucked on your breast while you bit his shoulder as moans racked your body. Hips collided clumsy as you both reached your peak.
White spots blocked out your vision when you came. Lin groaned, leaning forward until your foreheads touched. His wet hair fell onto your face. Too tired to speak, you both rolled onto your sides, holding each other.
//hey guys! so i’m really excited to be posting on this blog now, and I hope you like my stuff!!//
Notes. You were working at your current day job as a travel agent, and saw that across the street, a new sign for a store had just gone up. A U-Haul was parked outside, and a group of teenage workers were unloading the truck that was filled with boxes of papers, It seemed.
You started to wonder why a store focused solely on papers could be so important when the phone ringing snapped you out of your daze. You picked it up lightning fast, and droned the greeting that had been drilled into your ear.
“Oceans Away travel agency, Y/N speaking, may I help you?”
“Oh, it’s my little girl, at her first job away from home! I’m so proud of you!”
You sighed. Why did your mother have to call you at this hell you called a job? You didn’t want to be here. You hated travel. As a matter of fact, you were a homebody, so it was strange that you were living so far away from home, in New York City, all by yourself. You had moved here to get a job playing piano in an orchestra, hopefully on a Broadway show. You had most certainly not moved here to be working at a fucking travel agency.
“Mom, do you have to call me at work? If you wanna talk, call my cell after I get off of work. You’re holding up the line. People will complain about not getting through.” You sighed.
That was a lie. No one called Oceans Away travel agency. No one came in the store. You sat along with your colleagues mind-numbingly bored all day with nothing to do.
“No, no.” Your mother protested. “I’m… booking a vacation! Yes, that’s right! Now, what are your deals at the moment?”
You rolled your eyes.
“Mom, I’ll call you later. I gotta go.”
She huffed. “Okay, honey. Have fun! Keep me updated on that soulmate!”
You hung up the phone.
You were almost certain that that soulmate didn’t exist. Every time that your mom or dad would call you, they would ask if you had found that special someone yet. The answer was always no. Or that you were too busy. Or some other excuse. But, you were lonely. You wanted someone to express your feelings too. To spend your time with. To talk, laugh, love with. You were pretty sure that no one like that could exist for you.
The only argument against yourself was your tattoo. The mark that had been etched into your skin since you had turned thirteen. Your friends had all found their soulmates so quickly, perfectly. You were always the odd one out. Even your tatto was strange. There were the common ones, like the puzzle pieces, one half of a yin yang, words that matched. The more you thought about it, the more isolated you felt, so you pushed all thoughts of soulmates to the back of your mind.
You sat in the cramped desk for a few more gruelling hours before your shift was over and you were permitted to go home. You walked into the evening light in the direction of your apartment.
As you walked down the well-lit street, you looked into shop windows, quickly glancing at clothes, electronics, the insides of restaurants, and strangely, black curtains in one. It was quite uncommon to see stores closed this early, it was only six o'clock. Barely evening. You stepped back to see exactly which shop it was. As you glanced upwards, you saw that it was the new shop, the one with the boxes and boxes of papers. Notes.
It was a shame that it was closed, as you had really wanted to see the interior. You shrugged and continued your walk home.
Once opinion your apartment, you set your keys down, and walked to your spare bedroom. In the corner, where a bed should’ve sat, was your beautiful grand piano that you had received for your eighteenth birthday. You browsed through your very limited collection of sheet music in your filing cabinet before picking out a random piece, Clair de Lune.
You sat down at the bench, set your music up in front of you, and immersed yourself in the music for a few minutes. Playing made you forget about all of the shit in your life. While you played there was no travel agency. No pestering parents. No soulmates.
That was your daily routine. Wake up. Get ready. Go to work. Do nothing. Come home. Play the piano. Go to sleep. Repeat.
You weren’t going to lie. Your life was fucking boring. So on your day off, you finally decided to do something with your time. You walked the familiar way to your work, but turned to the opposite side of the street.
You had longed to go into the shop across the street since the day that it had opened. It was like a magnetic field was drawing you in, closer and closer every second that passed. Something had always come up so you couldn’t go inside though, distractions and inconveniences that got under your skin.
As your boots hit the snowy sidewalk leading up to the store, your hand absentmindedly went to trace the five even, horizontal lines on your wrist. Everyday you would try to imagine the possible tattoo that could accompany the strange five lines on your wrist. The tattoo of your soulmate.
You turned and hurried up the few front steps that separated the small building from the road. You pulled open the creaky wooden door and stepped through, feeling comfortable as a warm yellow light fell upon you. You closed the door and as you entered the small shop, a familiar, musty aroma hit you, and you were greeted by piles upon piles of sheet music. Tables in every direction holding all different genres, eras, styles of piano music. Your jaw dropped open with a quiet popping sound. This was paradise for the musician.
Your hands immediately started skimming through all of the piles, very much aware that you were leaving a large mess behind you as you went. Your eyes read hungrily through all of the different compositions, and saw as many composers names as you could imagine. There didn’t seem to be any sections for any specific genre of music, it was all over the place, as if it was thrown together at random.
You worked your way through all of the different aisles and all in all must have grabbed at least ten different pieces. You were very excited to expand your collection, and you really should have watched were you were going. Because as you very sharply turned a corner you were looking at a specific sonata and crashed into someone head on. You and the stranger fell to the ground, loose sheet music cascading around the two of you.
You were mortified.
“Fuck- Oh my God, I am so sorry, I really should’ve watched were I was going, just wow, I am so, so sorry.” You rambled as you tried to gather up all of your fallen music surrounding you.
“No, I’m sorry.” The stranger replied. “I wasn’t looking either. God, this place is like a labyrinth.” He chuckled.
You laughed as well and finally looked up at him.
Your heart automatically started beating at breakneck speed, and a furious blush spread over your cheeks. You extended your hand to him.
“I’m, uh, Y/N.” You stuttered, hand shaking.
He extended his with a warm smile, and butterflies erupted into your stomach.
“Lin. Nice to meet you.” His eyes drifted down towards your hand that had managed to keep hold of one composition.
“Moonlight Sonata? That’s my favourite.” He breathed.
Your brought the piece closer to your eyes to examine it. You had heard many times, but never really gave it much attention.
“Really? I’ve never really played this one. Just wanted to try it out.”
He looked shocked.
“You’ve never played Moonlight Sonata?” He countered. “How long have you been playing the piano?”
“As long as I can remember.” You laughed.
“Oh, come on! That’s ridiculous.”
“I don’t think so.” You smiled.
“Really? Then what’s your favourite piece? Also, please don’t say Fur Elise. Everyone says Fur Elise.
"It’s not Fur Elise. I’m not that mainstream. It’s Rondo Alla Turca.”
“Huh, okay.” He guffawed.
“Well, now that you know I’m here to purchase your favourite piece, why are you here?” You asked.
“Looking for inspiration.” He replied simply.
“Inspiration… for what?” You questioned.
“Well… don’t laugh, okay? I’m writing a hip hop musical about Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton, and I need ideas.”
You blinked. Then blinked again. Then spoke.
“Okay, you’re writing a hip hop musical about a founding father… and you need inspiration from a classical music store? Here, I’m sure that this will really help you.”
You handed him Pachelbel’s Canon.
He broke into a wide grin.
“Hey! I told you not to laugh!”
“No, no. I’m helping you, see?”
You were actually laughing uncontrollably.
You both got up and cleaned up the mess that you had made. You paid for your music, and you walked down the street to grab a coffee. You made playful conversation, with you asking him about his musical, him asking you about your playing, and you telling him that your life was extremely boring. He asked you about your family, your interests, goals for the future. He seemed genuinely interested about your life.
And no one had ever portrayed that to you.
And that made you like him even more than you already did.
“Wait, so you’re about to open off-Broadway? I thought that you were still looking for inspiration?”
“Well I am.” He responded. “I make changes everyday. I can’t stop writing. Or playing around with chord progressions and stuff like that.”
“That’s so amazing though. It’s always been a dream of mine to play on Broadway.” You stated.
“How long have you lived in the city?”
“Six months.” You responded. “When I first came, my goal was to be in an orchestra. A pianist. But now I’m stuck in a dead-end job as a travel agent. I hate it, but it’s the only thing paying the bills right now.”
Your wonderful day was cut short when you received a text saying that you needed to cover someone’s shift at the travel agency or you would be fired.
“Shit! I have to cover for my stupid colleague.”
Lin’s eyebrows raised.
“Wait, you have to go right now?”
“Yeah I’m really sorry, but I need this job. It was awesome talking to you! See you around!”
You turned in your heel, and speed walked away, not wanting to be late for the shift you had to cover.
Little did you know, that as soon as you had walked up the street and turned the corner, Lin glanced down at his wrist, and everything froze.
This was always your least favourite shift to work, as it was so late once you finished. It was only seven thirty, and you had three and a half hours left. You were tired beyond belief, and incredibly angry that you didn’t get to spend the rest of your day with Lin.
Hours later, you were filling out paperwork for an old couple going to the Bahamas. Out of habit, your fingers traced over the ink, and you glanced down. What was there made your heart skip a beat.
Five lines. With a treble clef. And the three notes of a C-chord.
Your tattoo was complete. It made sense now. You had met your soulmate.
It had to be Lin. It just had to be. It made sense. You felt a connection with him, and he seemed to have felt one with you. You grabbed your purse and ran out the door, closing shift be damned.
You stepped out into the freezing night air, and looked around.
“Damn it!” You yelled, realizing that you had forgotten to get his number.
Now you might never see him again. You did the only thing logical to yourself at the moment. You ran down the street to the music store. You raced up the front steps and tugged at the door, but remembered that the stupid place closed at six o'clock.
Defeated, you walked down the steps and sat against the wall, head in your hands, and cried. You heard heavy footsteps approach you, and your head shot up, fight or flight reflex kicking in. But before you did anything, the person showed you their wrist.
Five lines. With a treble clef. And the three notes of a C-chord.
You stood up, briskly walked over, and crashed your lips into Lin’s. Your hands wove into his hair, his hands down to your waist and the small of your back. Your lips were tingling. Butterflies were flying around in your stomach. And you were happy. It was innocent and sweet, but at the same time, loving and passionate.
As you pulled away for air, you rested your forehead against his.
“Wait. Did you just say…Don Mills is here?” asked Zico, his voice suddenly turning dark as he discarded his nice guy facade.
“Yeah bro he’s right over there” replied Microdot as he nodded his head towards Don’s direction.
Without another word Zico turned and headed in the direction Microdot had pointed towards, instantly forgetting his mission to collect Simon D’s sister in favor of finding Don Mills.
“Thanks for the drugs bro!” Microdot called after him excitedly before heading towards the mens room to test the drugs out.
Without thinking, Zico’s fingers found their way into his inner coat pocket and curled around the gun he had hidden inside. His emotions, which he normally kept under lock and key, were going haywire. The only thing he could think about was getting revenge on the man who was responsible for killing the only woman he had ever loved.
He was going to find Don Mills, and he was going to kill him.
Can you imagine watching the Superbowl with Harry? Maybe he’s cheering for the Patriots because “Can’t cheer for the Falcons, love. They beat the Packers.” So you automatically cheer for Atlanta, just to spite him?
You’re doing well for the first half and Harry has almost resigned himself to the fact that Atlanta is going to win. You’re goading him about it as well, giggling and poking at him and teasing him about the game. He doesn’t say much, but has a smirk on his face. When the Patriots finally end up having a huge comeback and winning the game, you know you’re in trouble. Because there’s nothing Harry likes more than being able to prove you wrong when you’ve been teasing him about football, because he knows you don’t really care about the game and only get into it for him.
You’re sitting on the couch as Harry gloats in the Patriots win, with a silly pout on your face.
“Aww love, cheer up!” he teases, “Embrace the Patriots! Jump on the winning team train!”
You continue to pout and shake your head, though you can’t really hide the smile from your face.
Harry hops on the couch, straddling your waist and leans down to start kissing your neck with wet, sloppy kisses.
“Be happy, my love,” he continues, “Atlanta beat my Packers; they had it comin’.”
“I’m wearing your Packers jersey, aren’t I? Don’t I get some points for that?”
Harry runs his eyes down your body which is, indeed, clothed in his over sized Packers jersey and nothing else, before licking his lips and sponging a few more kisses on your neck.
“Oh trust me, love,” he whispers, “I think we both know that you’re going to be the real winner here.”
Summary: Only two months of being miserably single you try to
ignore the impulsive need to message Ethan. Not knowing that he’s just as
miserable as you but when something terrible happens bring your Beacon Hills
family to New Jersey it seems you don’t have a change to get back together or
Characters: Ethan Dolan x McCall!Reader, Grayson Dolan, Sheriff
Ryan (OC), Cameron Dolan, Sean and Lisa Dolan, Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles
Stilinski, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, and Melissa McCall
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or any characters that are
featured in this. I do not know the Dolan family so this is just a work of
fiction. Lancaster High I made up for the story so if it’s a real school, I
Warnings: Swearing, school shooting, death, injury, blood, and a
shit ton of angst.
Tagged at the bottom.
A/N: Nobody seemed to read our previous post nor cared about it.
Do you want sneak peaks of fics? Do you want to have an inkling of what will be
posted within a week of seeing it? Then follow our snapchat: caitsyandash or
use the image below. We’ll post after three people join.
It was a cold December day that your finger hovered over the
contact lit up on your phone in the busy cafeteria making you bite your lip. It
had been barely two months since you had last talked to him but you were
hurting so bad knowing that you both had thrown your years together away
without really trying. He was busy with his career and you were busy trying to
survive high school without drowning in the work you were given daily and the
decisions about your future.
“Just call him.” Ellen, your best friend, said sympathetically
squeezing your forearm.
“I can’t.” You mumbled locking your phone up once again, “He
wouldn’t answer and I don’t know what I would say.”
“That you miss him?” Ellen replied, “He misses you.”
Chloe vs. Rich who would win in a battle (Pokemon au)
they’re both p matched in strength, so it’s a diff outcome each time they battle depending on the terrain & how their pokemon feel & stuff? i feel like chloe maybe possibly wins more often than not (by one battle or so), but again, they’re evenly matched
their battles get real intense tho hjfkjhkd they have a lot of respect for each other as trainers but they do have this rival streak in a way and battle whenever they meet up. chloe has this unspoken “u’ve beat me before so ur automatically not allowed to lose to anyone but me” mood going on with rich lmao
i just saw the headcanons about guuzma and the galiospod. i just wanted to point out that, post game, its implied that guuzma was the one swinging the golf club at his dad, not the other way around as we initially thought. then again its coming from guuzma's dad, so we can probably take that with a grain of salt, should we wish to?
Okay look, I had a feeling someone was gonna’ message me about this eventually, so lemme’ just lay this out.
There is nothing during game OR post-game that heavily implies that any character has beaten another character with a golf club. There’s just some flavor text on a sack of golf clubs in Guzma’s childhood home that says “there are a number of broken and bent golf clubs in the bag…”.
This could mean anything. A lot of people took it to mean that Guzma used to smash a lot of shit with golf clubs when he was younger. Some people even thought the opposite; that he was uncontrollable and abusive towards his parents.
Now, the reason so many people assume Guzma’s dad was abusive is because of his dialogue when you speak to him (which doesn’t change post-game, btw.) : “I tried to set that boy of mine straight, but when I did, I was the one who got beat…”. Again, this could also mean literally anything. This could even mean a fuckin’ pokemon battle, considering, y’know, it’s pokemon. (Also, again, this is his dialogue REGARDLESS of when you talk to him. During game or post-game, it doesn’t change.)
But the reason so many people immediately assume his dad is to blame is because if you’re trying to imply physical abuse in media aimed at a general audience, you don’t come right out and say it; you have to use coded phrases like “set that boy straight”. It hints at the issue without being explicit, because abusive people sometimes speak like that, and your audience can pick up on that without having it spelled out for them.
As for the last half of his quote, “…but I was the one who got beat”, again, that could imply literally anything, but because it’s a clause referring to the first part of his statement, and because it uses the more deliberate “got beat” verbiage, people automatically assume “got beat” correlates with “set him straight”, and it’s not very… f-farfetch’d… to imagine that that was the intent.
NOW, ALL OF THAT HAVING BEEN SAID:
I ALSO don’t think it’s farfetched to assume that Guzma was an aggressive little shit-head of a kid, and maybe his dad didn’t know how to handle that, so they both took it out in destructive behaviors. That’s more or less what I was trying to insinuate in those drawings. For example, Guzma isn’t just chasing off that Ratticate, he’s throwing rocks at it. And all the progressively broken/destroyed shit in Guzma’s room I imagine was broken by him; I realize that’s a difficult thing to communicate but I tried to do so by showing things carved onto his bed frame that were obviously done by a kid, and by filling one of his drawers with bottle rockets (I’m only so creative, guys, haha).
I also tried to communicate that his dad wasn’t actually hitting him, he was just breaking stuff. It might not be super obvious, but he’s supposed to be just caught up in a rage, swinging shit around and Guzma is caught in the crossfire. I tried my best to keep the drawings vague so that people could interpret it how they see fit… I mean, that’s kind of what the in-game dialogue it’s based on is going for too, right? But in my mind at least, when I was drawing it, that was my thought.
AND, you know, what it all really comes down to is that I’m just some rando on the internet who felt like drawing a headcanon. I’m not asking anyone to agree with me on it, I’m not asserting it as fact, I just wanted to draw a dumb comic about a douchey kid standing up for a helpless, shrimpy pokemon and that pokemon returning the favor by evolving out of necessity and protecting him in a time of need. I’m just… a fuckin’ trashy fangirl… leave me be… y’all can have whatever headcanons you want, haha. So yeah, take it with a grain of salt, whatever, it’s all intentionally vague anyway; that’s what they wanted. Pokemon games aren’t exactly known for their deeply emotional storylines.
(ALSO. Just a bonus fact for y’all, the only dialogue that changes post-game from Guzma’s family is that his mom is hanging out in his room, and if you talk to her she says she’s heard a lot of crazy rumors about her son that she doesn’t believe are true–which is kind of hilarious; her boi can do no wrong, she doesn’t know he was a gang leader–and she gives you one of his old TMs called Swagger. That’s literally it.)
❝when you’re friends with benefits… and he falls in love.
►1761 words; series fwb (6/7) ♥ tagging @mvnyoongis / @versigny / @zeurin bc it’s not like you’re suffering bc of jungkook or anything :’)
Jungkook notices that while you’re sleeping, you somehow
have the tendency to curl against the source of warmth that’s available. Now,
one thing everyone knows is that Jungkook isn’t that affectionate of a person.
Amongst the six he’s with most of the time, his usual pack of guys, he’s one to
not appreciate it if you smother your
hands all over him.