PAUL: John used to say, ‘I’m the leader of this group!’ and we used to say, 'It’s only because you fucking shout louder than anyone else!’ It wasn’t as if we didn’t know how to do that, it was just nobody wanted to shout and be so uptight about it. Nobody cared as much as he did about being the leader. Actually I have always quite enjoyed being second. I realised why it was when I was out riding: whoever is first opens all the gates. If you’re second you just get to walk through. They’ve knocked down all the walls, they’ve taken all the stinging nettles, they take all the shit and whoever’s second, which is damn near to first, waltzes through and has an easy life. You’re still up with number one. Number one still needs you as his companion, so I think my relationship to John is something to do with this attitude.
John was always very forward-thinking. That was often his greatest asset. If it was like, 'Should we say fifty swear words on this record, or shall we do the song we were meant to do?’ 'No, no, no, let’s do the fifty swear words. That’s a good idea, that’s certainly interesting.’ John would always, in my imagination anyway, push for that. So it was always very good having this prod, this battering-ram partner. It was something to do with our personalities and character, which doesn’t change a lot in life. John would always advise jumping off a cliff. It was one of his symbolic things. He’d say, 'So you come to edge of a cliff, and you don’t know what to do, so jump!’
John was always the jumper, the suicide man, the one off the cliff, he always had to be bigger and bolder and brighter, which was what excited people about John. We like those people, we like high-risk people, that’s how John was and that was the radical difference between us.
paul mccartney: many years from now, barry miles
Prompt: “ You once said calling me Satan would be an insult to Satan” (Will appear in bold in the fic)
Anonymous Request: Are you willing to write a winchester!sister fanfic with a reader that sits in a wheelchair? It’s totally okay if you don’t want to! I just feel like we’re always a little left behind! Thanks you for your time and all of your awesome fics! :) (I hope this is okay, nonnie!)
A/N: Heyo! This is my entry for @dreamin-of-somewhere-else 2000 Followers Writing Challenge, congrats on all the followers. My prompt is as listed above^^^. I also decided to make this the start of a series, probably a mini series. The idea actually comes from a request that I got a while back which is also above^^^. I’ve been looking for some way to make it happen, and this idea kinda just came to me. This will also be my first attempt at writing the reader in a wheelchair, so I apologize if it isn’t as accurate as it could be and I hope it doesn’t offend anyone.
The boys both heard you before they saw you. The click of the motors on your chair echoing down the bunker halls as you turned the corner. You came to a stop, the breaks clicking as you did so. Peering at the contents covering the top of the table, you fold your arms and regard both of your brothers with a cold stare.
“Something you wanna share?” At this point you expect nothing more than the usual shrug that so effortlessly rolls through Dean’s shoulders and the way Sam’s mouth is slightly agape as if he wants to say something, but doesn’t know what.
“Nothing that concerns you, kiddo.” Dean says patting you on the leg before turning his attention back to the file he had been studying.
“Why, because you think I’m incapable of handling it?” You counter not allowing yourself to waver. It had always been this same argument with him, and you were tired of it.
Ever since you were younger, Dean had acted like you couldn’t perform the simplest of tasks without someone holding your hand. Sam hadn’t been as bad, but you could still see the way he always looked at you with worry filled eyes. At first, you figured they were just protecting you, but it eventually just started to feel like they thought you couldn’t do it. That you’d only get in the way, so they just left you behind instead.
It made you feel weak, and useless, and you couldn’t stand it. So, as soon as you found the perfect way to sneak away without either of your brothers noticing, you had begun to make sure that you could defend yourself so that the next time Dean tried to keep you from a case, you’d be ready to prove yourself.
Author: @ninja-stiles Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Reader Words: 4,880 Prompt: “I love you from the bottom of my heart, but I don’t trust your cooking. Stay out of my kitchen.”
The boy who stole my heart.
I walked into the kitchen, finding Stiles looking out the sliding door in a pair of his boxers, sipping his coffee. I played with the ends of his flannel, stalking towards him, feeling the cold tile under my feet as I wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head against his shoulder blade.
Tags: female reader, enemies to friends to lovers, doctors and physicians, protective Bones, Jim is a little shit, minor Spock/Uhura, mental health issues, fluff, angst.
Summary: A recent transfer to the USS Enterprise poses a threat to Dr McCoy’s position as leading physician and CMO. Said transfer has no want to take over his position, thank you very much, but you try telling that to a grumpy Bones.
Summary: This is one of my favourite songs from Lilo & Stitch and I thought about making something a bit new for me, which is a fic in which Maxwell is the love interest @hollyashton@mermaidwarriorqueen
Lord Almighty, I feel my temperature rising Higher higher It’s burning through to my soul Girl, girl, girl, girl You gonna set me on fire My brain is flaming I don’t know which way to go
He rested his head against the pink wall of the boutique as he waited for the woman in the changing room. Hands in his pocket, his gaze was staring at the door though it was unfocused, his mind lost in his memories.
A cleared throat made him blink and returned him to reality, making him shift his gaze towards the lady that had reappeared. His eyes widened and his mouth felt dry as it fell open, his eyes travelling from her head to her feet several times.
The aquamarine cover-up reached her mid-thigh, the soft almost translucent fabric flowing as it fell down her skin. It was tied rather loosely around her waist, just above where her white bikini bottom started. At his eyes went upwards, he noticed some silver embroidery around her low cleavage.
“That… Looks good on you”. Maxwell finally choked out, his heart quickening the longer he stared at the breath-taking girl waiting for his opinion. Is that really the best I could come up with? He asked himself as he cursed internally.
“Are you fucking kidding me with this shit, Lang?” Bucky exclaims, stalking down the main staircase into the mansion’s foyer to keep Scott from leading the sloppily dressed blond any further inside. “Walking a goddamn nark right through the fucking front door?”
“What? No!” Scott’s hands spring up as he steps to the side leaving a good gap between him and his new friend, which is only to be expected, really. Guy’s seen exactly what Bucky can do, all up close and personal, like. “Steve said to get the guy, this is the guy!”
“Steve said to get the fucking nark guy?”
“The guy from the bar!” Scott hastens to explain. “The darts guy! You know, Luis heard about him from his cousin Gabriel, who got the intel from that busty bartender, who saw it–”
Bucky flings his arm out into the wall, his metal prosthetic leaving a sizable dent in the plaster. “Cut the shit, Lang! He’s a fucking nark!”
Which is of course when Stevie decides to join the party, leaning over the second floor banister to shout down at them, “The hell’s going on now?” Scott spins around to plead his case to the man on high, meanwhile his nark buddy is shoving his hand in his hoodie pocket and pulling something out, so naturally, Bucky whips his gun out of his shoulder holster and advances without issuing a warning, ‘cause that’s the gun’s job.
But the nark moves quick as anything, spinning in under Bucky’s guard and flipping his gun out of his grip, slapping his other hand down across the forearm of his prosthetic. There’s the subtle whir of the metal plates realigning as Bucky moves to punch the guy in his fool head, but with a sizzling pop, the arm refuses to respond to what his brain’s telling it all of the sudden.
Bucky’s still blinking down in befuddlement at the little silver disk stuck to his arm when the nark pivots again, catching Scott in the chest with a roundhouse and throwing a damned knife Stevie’s way where he’s barreling down the stairs before the guy has Bucky in a chokehold, holding him up as a meat shield with his own gun shoved up against his temple.
Bucky sees Steve flinch back, curling in over his hand as he drops his gun, the knife following after it, but he doesn’t really process it. He’s still stuck on who the flying fuck just waltzed up in here and pulled the damned Winter Soldier closer to himself while looking to threaten Bucky’s Captain.
“Assassin, actually,” the guy mutters–purrs more like, his words ghosting over the skin of Bucky’s neck. “But you’re in luck! I’m for hire. Pierce ain’t paying me near enough to take out someone as pretty as you.”
[!] This is a repost of a scenario I posted on my old blog!
↳ He was spending way too much time with her, I mean how could you help feeling a little jealous?
You entered your small apartment that you shared with your boyfriend, Yoongi. It was a long day and you just wanted to curl up next to him and sleep.
“Yoongi?”, you called out for him. “I’m in the bedroom!”, you heard him reply, hearing chuckles in the echo of his voice.
You excitedly ran to the dim-litted room you shared. You felt a spring in your step just hearing his raspy voice, coated in giggles.
You approached the door, hurriedly turning the handle only to reveal him rolling around on the ground playfully with his old friend, Sunmi.
“Oh Sunmi, I didn’t know that you would be here tonight”, you stated in an uneasy tone.
“I guess I’ll just go start the dinner”, you mumble, sulking away from your bedroom into the kitchen.
Sunmi was an old friend of Yoongi’s from Daegu. They hadn’t seen each other since Yoongi moved to Seoul.
Ever since she moved to Seoul as well it turned out to be all about her now.
First, he was calling her when he was at the studio late at night and not you. Now, he wants to roll around on the carpet of your guys’ bedroom giggled along with her instead of comforting his girlfriend, in need of affection.
What you hated most was that Yoongi didn’t even pick up on the situation at hand, even when you kept dropping little hints that you didn’t particularly want to spend another movie night with Sunmi, feeling like you were the third wheel when you were the one with the boyfriend!
You didn’t care if you seemed selfish, he was your boyfriend, end of story.
You grumbled as you grabbed the ingredients for Yoongi’s favourite stew, a stew that you thought you were going to enjoy with him, but unfortunately, can’t.
But you still got to work, trying to distract yourself from the wild laughter that came from the next room.
“Guys! The dinner’s ready!”, you called the two friends from the kitchen as you laid out the bowls full of stew and utensils.
“Hey babe!”, Yoongi gleamed, stumbling into the kitchen with his arm over Sunmi’s shoulder, kissing you on the cheek, which you ignored, not in the mood for his affection anymore, too angered by the arm over Sunmi’s shoulder when it was supposed to be laying on your hip.
“Hi”, you sternly replied, pointing to Sunmi’s seat, that was set on the opposite side of the table, in hopes Yoongi would finally make a fucking conversation with you after two long weeks of watching them.
You and Sunmi calmly sat down and half smiled and half glared at each other, making it clear you weren’t exactly buddy-buddy.
“So Jagi, how was your day”, you gleamed at your boyfriend, who began picking up his utensils and bowl and quickly scooted over to beside Sunmi. You felt the veins in your wrists and temples tense.
You were straining the muscles in your jaw into a smile, trying to come unnoticed and keep the conversation going.
“Ah good, Sunmi told me she got the new job at the company she was trying to get into, isn’t that great?!”, he beamed at Sunmi in reply as he settled into his chair.
You felt yourself gripping onto the knife and fork in your hands, wanting to throw them at Sunmi so bad.
“Wonderful! Why don’t we give her a whole fucking award! because obviously I didn’t do anything at all this week and don’t deserve any of your attention!”, you snapped, beginning to lose your temper.
Yoongi just stared at you in shock, you weren’t one to speak in such a rude tone in front of the person you were talking about, usually being quite a calm minded person.
“Can I talk to you in the bathroom for a sec y/n?”, Yoongi awkwardly rose his voice with a hint of irritation, disturbing the silence that had just fell upon the once loud apartment.
“Wow, finally some alone time with my boyfriend”, you fakely smiled, following Yoongi to the bathroom at the opposite end of the apartment.
Yoongi dragged you into the tiny bathroom, locking the door behind him.
“What’s wrong with you?!”, Yoongi growled, his eyes fell dark, no longer possessing his once bright pupils.
“What’s wrong with you?!”, you snapped back, anger filling your mind. “You haven’t given me any attention these last two god damn weeks!”, you shouted at your oblivious boyfriend.
“I haven’t seen Sunmi in a long time y/n!”, he yelled in his defence. “You’ve been seeing her again for two weeks! You’re even putting off work!”, you complained, a hint of desperation in your voice.
“Fine! If that’s how much something so minor annoys you, we might as well take the pressure off your shoulders and just break up!”, he angrily growled at you, his eyes piercing into yours like knives to the heart.
You were at a loss for words, break up? After so long?
Yoongi grumpily stormed out of the bathroom, not looking back at your broken face.
“Come on Sunmi, let’s go to your place”, you heard him mumble, Sunmi happily skipping out of your apartment.
Rays of light shone past your closed curtains, lighting up the once dark room.
You noticed the absence of warmth beside your curled up form. Since when did Yoongi get up early? you thought.
You rolled out of your bed and strolled into the kitchen, expecting to see your boyfriend lazily scrolling through his phone and eating a bowl of cereal but no, you instead took in the sight of half-ate dinner.
The dark memories of last night’s events played in your mind.
Dread filled your system as you began searching your apartment for him, but he just wasn’t there.
Yoongi liked his personal space so you thought it was best to not interact until he decides he wants to.
You sat down on your couch whizzing through the channels on your tv, a bowl of soup in your hand.
Your life had become quite dull these last few weeks, you never realised how much Yoongi impacted your daily life until he was completely gone.
Not even a visit to collect his things, he was gone.
You thought maybe after the third day he would come back and apologise, make everything better again, but no he didn’t.
Your friends had arranged for you to go out with them to the clubs like you used to before you found Yoongi.
You accepted, hoping a drunk hook up would somehow erase your past.
You ran your lipstick over your lips once again until a knock on the door took you out of your nervous thoughts.
You knew you wouldn’t see Yoongi again but it didn’t feel right. You belonged to Yoongi, no other man should be allowed to touch you in such ways.
“Y/n!”, you heard the familiar voice of your friend call out from the other side of the door.
“Come in!”, you yelled back to your friend, fixing your edges with concealer.
“Are you ready to go?”, your friend hummed as she waltzed into your bedroom and took in your outfit for the tonight.
“Damn, you look so hot in that dress!”, her voice ringed in your ears as she gawked at the way your short dress hugged your waist and upper thigh.
You blushed at her kind words as she whizzed you out of your apartment and into her car, driving you into a night you were beginning to regret getting into.
The smell of alcohol filled your lungs, making your head feel slightly dizzy at the intensity.
You and your friend walked over to the bar as your eyes scanned over the crowd of bodies on the dance floor. Your eyes got captivated by one tall boy as his did the same.
His blonde locks shone as the light hit them, creating a mysterious aura.
Unfortunately, your friend had pulled you away too fast for your eyes to scan his features enough to grasp a proper memory of his face.
“Already gawking?”, you friend snorted at you, handing you a drink.
You knocked the drink back quickly, slamming the fragile glass cup down onto the bar counter.
“Refill please”, you mumbled to the bartender, who happily refilled it up right away.
“Damn, you knocked that back fast”, you friend commented on your act. “You aren’t usually this eager…”, her voice trailed off.
“I’m not planning on making this a memorable night”, you sighed, chugging back your second round.
You couldn’t help but scan the room again for that handsome stranger your eyes fixed to like he was a drug.
“Hello there”, you heard a deep purr come from beside you. And there he was, the man from earlier.
You noticed your friends absence from beside you, obviously off to give you two space, or she either found her own interest for the night. Either way, you were alone.
“Did anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare”, he smirked lightly. You couldn’t reply as you were already baffled enough by his daringness.
Now that he was close enough, nearly too close, you could see his features better.
He had plump pink lips, large eyes and a jawline that cut a cake.
“My name’s Seokjin by the way”, he laughed at your bashfulness. “Y/n…”, you finally responded.
“Well y/n, might I say what pretty lips you have”, his eyes darkened, his eyes fixated on your lips.
“Same to you”, you smiled shyly at his slickness.
“I wonder how’d they’d feel against mine”, he smirked, biting his lip at the thought of your lips on his.
You turned to look at your empty glass, the effects of drinking taking over your right mind.
You peered back over to his lustful eyes and in a flash, his lips crashed onto yours lightly, him leaning off his chair slightly to deepen the kiss.
You gasped, giving him a chance to slip his tongue into your mouth.
You moaned softly as his tongue swiped over yours suggestively.
“I’d love to hear more of that, princess”, he groaned against your lips.
You felt a sensation in your core beginning to expand.
His lips weren’t like Yoongi’s, they weren’t rough and needy, they were more sensual with only a hint of lust. But Seokjin’s mind was obviously elsewhere.
“C’mon, my car’s outside, we can take this elsewhere”, he whispered, his lips trailing up to your ear, breathing his hot breath underneath your earlobe.
Without thinking twice, he had you walking out the door with his hand on your hip, guiding you to his vehicle.
It was wrong, so incredibly wrong, but it might replace your feelings for Yoongi.
He swiftly pulled the passenger seat door open, waiting for you to hop in.
Your foot was just hovering over the flooring of Seokjin’s tiny car when you heard a loud grunt come from behind you both.
“Take a step in that car, I fucking dare you”, the all too familiar voice growled.
Before you could turn your body to face him he had already grabbed your wrist pulling you away from Seokjin and his car.
You tried to release yourself from his grasp but it only made Yoongi tighten his grip.
“Hey! Leave the lady alone!”, Seokjin came to your rescue, trying to pull the enraged Yoongi from you, but that only made Yoongi more infuriated.
“You don’t even fucking know her! But I do! She’s my girlfriend!”, Yoongi barked at him, now letting go of you and latching onto Seokjins collar bringing the tall boy down to his eye level.
Seokjin looked at you in confusion. “Girlfriend?”, he said in surprise trying to wrap his mind around the sudden out lash.
“No! Get your hands off of him Min Yoongi! I’m not your girlfriend! And you call me jealous, look at yourself you asshole!”, you screamed at your clearly drunken ex.
Yoongi snapped his head at you and immediately let go of Seokjin who began coughing at the lack of oxygen.
Yoongi’s eyes were no longer angry they almost looked sad now. He was hurt by your harsh words, he almost looked like he wanted to say something to you, but he couldn’t.
“Come on”, he mumbled, grabbing your hand and whizzing you away from Seokjin.
“Yoongi”, you kept calling to him but he wouldn’t reply, all he did was stare straight ahead.
He finally stopped at the entrance of a dark alleyway.
There weren’t any street lamps up that were turned on so you could barely see a thing.
“Y/n”, Yoongi mumbled softly as he whisked you away into the alley. You could only make out the lining of his face but somehow you knew his eyes were weary.
“Look, I’m so sorry I ever even doubting anything about us. I’m so sorry I said the awful stuff I did, I’m sorry for walking out and never calling you. I’m just sorry”, he poured out as his head dropped to rest on your shoulder.
You could feel a dampness growing onto your dress which told you he was crying silent tears.
“P-please forgive me, take me back. I can’t sleep at night without you near me. I miss the feeling of you playing with my hair, the warmth that radiates off of your body and warms me up”, he cried, clinging to you now.
“I’m sorry Sunmi came between us, I’m sorry I never realised how awful I was treating you”, he whimpered, tears trailing down his cheeks.
You had never seen him like this before. He was vulnerable, sad, he had never poured out his feelings like that to you before.
He never liked bothering you, thinking he was a nuisance and he should be manlier and never cry about his worries.
You were glad you finally felt a connection you never felt between him before. You felt like you really meant something to him, like he relied on you and that you were needed.
You chuckled, placing your hand on his head, running your fingers through his straw-like hair after all the hair dye.
He looked up at you through his lashes. He looked so innocent with his dazed and damp eyes.
You placed a soft kiss on his lips, him reciprocating it immediately. You could feel the desperation in the kiss.
He pulled away for air, looking at you with only care in his mind.
“I love you too much”, he sniffled, pulling you closer to him.
“Director Graves,“ Seraphina waltzes in his office like she’s owning the damn place, which isn’t entirely wrong, but still “that was completely unnecessary.“ She fixes him with the stare. He already loves where this conversation goes to.
“Was it?“ Percival says, avoiding her eyes and busying himself with the papers on his desk. Seraphina knows he doesn’t want to discuss the matter, but she’ll make him listen anyway, so Percival braces himself for the good old scolding.
“Percival.“ Her tone is softer, but there still is sternness in the way she gives him a piece of her mind. “It was completely unnecessary to call for a duel with the new British ambassador.“ He met her gaze, knowing eyes boring into his. “I heard, he was rather“ She slightly grimaced before continuing “rude to our consultant magizoologist, but that surely didn’t mean you have to” The corner of her lips twitched into a smirk “punch him square in the face - a very unattractive one, I must add - and to call him for a duel.”
“Sera, come on, you were here, you heard what he called Scamander.“
“Yes, I did, and I would defend him too, if I were in your place.“ At Percival’s surprised face, she snorted. “Of course I would. My employees go first. But, I’m not in your place, and seriously, Percival, who in their right mind would duel you? You won’t leave the guy any chances, and I don’t want problems with the British Ministry.”
Oh, so this is the root of all this boring monologue. Of course she wouldn’t want problems, not after Grindelwald. They need to cooperate, to find comrades in every country. British Ministry of Magic is no exception.
Politics never interested Percival, but he would do as Seraphina says most of the times. Except this one, he couldn’t just overlook or pass by as if he didn’t hear or see a thing. It’s important to protect and show your dedication to the one you deeply care for, and so happened that Scamander is that person.
“It’s late to change anything, Sera.“ Percival says, his eyes meeting her with no hesitation “He accepted the challenge. Tomorrow, we will duel and nothing’s gonna change that.“
“I know,“ She rolls her eyes at him in exasperation “that’s why I’m here.“ He raised a thick eyebrow in question. “To tell you to take it easy. We don’t need a war with the Brits, because of another two Brits.“
“I really can’t promise anything.“ Percival shrugged and grinned at her annoyed huff. He’s going to have fun hexing the bastard, and more importantly, no one will stop him.
The dueling arena at MACUSA is really impressive and it also has a lot of space for those who find watching wizards dueling each other entertaining. Of course, Percival couldn’t blame them for being excited, after all, one of the duelists is the director of Magical Security himself. Nearly half of MACUSA came to see the show and he isn’t going to disappoint them, Seraphina’s words be damned.
Walking to his corner, Percival takes off his coat and jacket, leaving these into the waiting hands of Goldstein. Beside her, Scamander nervously throws him short glances and worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Percival would groan externally, if he could be sure it won’t come out obscenely, but as he doesn’t trust his vocal cords, he does it internally, and not without adding some other obscenities to complete the picture in his mind.
“Mr. Graves, I-“ Scamander’s voice makes him focus on the man “You shouldn’t, really. I am used to being called things. It’s not the first time, nor the last, so you don’t have to-“
“Shh.“ Percival shushes and approaches the man, his fingers straightening the straps on his thigh, the wand tucked in its sheath. He flexes his fingers and observes how Scamander’s blue eyes follow their movement. “Now, Newt.“ At the mention of his name, the bright eyes snap up and look into his without breaking the contact. Percival loves his eyes, because there are always genuine emotions pictured in them. There’s surprise and slight confusion in Newt’s eyes and they still as Percival approaches him further. “I will not allow anyone to say such things to you or about you anymore, so you shouldn’t get used to such attitude.“
The surprise and confusion grow, but a new emotion slips on Newt’s face. It’s happiness and it makes Newt’s eyes sparkle even more beautifully. Percival smiles at him, and tries to fool around.
“Don’t I get a kiss for luck?” He says, the humor clear in his tone. “It’s kind of tradition, right?“
He expects a smile or maybe even a short laugh in response, a friendly pat on the back, a good luck charm without any words. Or a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently in silent gratitude. What Percival never expected is warm, plush lips brushing against his cheek and lingering there a tad bit longer than should to be considered a joke.
Then Newt whispers silently a promise of more, if he wins the duel, and Percival never felt this motivated to win before.