yes i know this is from the front page of da

3

But what if Betty was new to town and she was a lone wolf just like Jughead? Can these two come together to help fix the damage done onto them by others?
****

It was…. different.

The town was small. it was small and it was quiet, very different to the busy Harlem streets she was used to, it unnerved her. Nothing was supposed to be this perfect, she had learned perfection always came with a cost. What was the cost exactly? Well …she was gonna find out.

Her father had always said “mystery calls to you Elizabeth Cooper, you can either choose to answer it or leave it ringing.” Smiling at the thought of her father, she shifted the suitcase in her hands. He had been a good man, Loved her more than anything, and would do anything for his family. Which he did.

“Elizabeth?” She looked up at the sound of her mothers voice, she had a questioning look on her face and reached out to place a palm to her forehead “are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.”

Betty shook her mothers hand off
“I’m fine, just thinking.”

Her mother never pressed her, she had learned that the hard way a while back, it wasn’t wise to question Betty, it would just set her back and she would lose it. Sure maybe it was immature but she figured she deserved a little leniancy.

“Were here.” The beautifully put together blonde woman smiled at her equally beautiful daughter.
The house was huge, it was massive. Her eyes instantly zeroed in on the room up top with the bay window. She felt a hand being placed on her arm “you can have that room.” She smiled gratefully to her mom. Taking a deep breathe, she steeled her shoulders and gripped her suitcase
“Well, what are we waiting for?Ready to enter the belly of the beast?”

Rolling her eyes and smiling, Alice cooper led Betty through the doors. Looking around Betty felt herself smile for the first time in hours. The walls were a dreamy white and the furniture was rustic and beautiful, everything was simple and clean. It was perfect.
“Now I know, it’s very big for just the two of us, but you’re father wanted us to have it. We were all going to move in here together.. it’s what… I” choking up Alice took a deep breathe and excused herself, Betty knew that meant she needed to cry. Feeling the guilt rip her stomach, Betty ran up the stairs to look at her new room.

Shit.

It was huge and roomy, painted a light yellow, her favorite color. She closed her eyes and angled her head to the sky, swallowing a lump in her throat. He knew she would’ve wanted this room, he painted it for her, her drawings and paintings were hung on the wall in beautiful frames. Thank you dad.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she started unpacking her suitcase. She only had one suitcase for all of her things, they didn’t have much back home, all of her dresses and shoes fit into the one large rolling bag.

Suddenly she heard music from outside her window, her curiosity peaking, she looked through the shifty curtains. It was two boys, a redheaded one was facing her playing a guitar in the house directly across from hers and a dark haired boy facing away, all she could make out was the gray beanie. Great her neighbors were boys her age, she just knew her mother was going to want to introduce them. Suddenly the music stopped and the boys looked to be packing up, getting ready to go out she assumed.

As she continued unpacking, she pulled out her sketch book and pencils with an unenthused “ta da.” Gripping the book to her chest, she made her way downstairs.
“Mom I’m going out to explore, I’ll be home in a few hours.” She called Into the living room.

“Okay honey, try and make some friends!”

She rolled her eyes uttering,“ no promises” before she shut the front door.

Where should she go? What did people do around her?

After about twenty minutes of wandering she came across an old fashioned diner. Perfect. She could shack up in a back booth and work on some of her drawings.

As soon as she entered the diner, she spotted a familiar beanie. It was the boy next door. And he was…

Staring at her. Hard.

Choosing to ignore his gaze, she moved to the booth diagonal to his, he was typing on a laptop, a coffee by his side and his sleeves rolled up.
He really was quite attractive, his wavy long hair underneath that ridiculous hat, the piercing blue eyes she felt staring into her shoulder, and the absolutely sinful Lips.
Okay Betty, get a grip. She smiled to herself shaking her head slightly and moving back to her sketches.

Meanwhile Jughead was struggling to control his straying thoughts. Never had a girl stolen his attention like this, sure she was beautiful, actually she was absolutely gorgeous. All silky blonde hair, long tan legs and bright green eyes, but there was something else, something about her made it impossible to look away. She was the type of girl you write stories about, fortunately for him, he wrote stories more than he breathed.

Suddenly archie was sliding into the booth across from him “check out the new girl, she is something to look at right? I’m pretty sure she’s my new neighbor. The coopers. It’s just her and her mom.” Coincidentally the smell of gossip brought the one and only Veronica lodge to his once comfortably secluded booth.

“Total smoke show for sure. But rumor has it her dad was murdered in front of her. My sources tell me that’s why they moved here.” Veronica looked over to the blonde frowning. “Poor thing.”

Jughead hated rumors, they pissed him off, especially about the girl he felt an unexplainable connection with. “How do you even know anything about her Veronica? She moved here this morning, don’t go spreading rumors until you get it from the actual source. That girl.” He said with a nudge of his head.

Veronica was unphased by his icy tone, raising a brow “so that’s your type hmm? Well let’s go chat her up, shall we?” She stood and wiped her skirt as Jughead desperately tried to get her to stay
“Veronica! No! Leave her alone” he whispered panicked.

“Oh relax jugs, I’m just going to be polite.” And she was gone, already halfway to The beautiful blonde.

Both of the boys at the table watched as Veronica spoke to the mysterious new girl. About two minutes later she came back to the table smiling
Archie looked at her expectantly “so?”

She just smiled again “I asked her to come sit with us and she pretty much shot me down. No. not pretty much. She definitely shut me down.”

Jughead looked confused “and that’s making you smile because..?”

Veronica laughed “she’s awesome, totally reminds me of you Jughead, except for the fact that she seems like she’s totally cool, no offense. She said she preferred to work on her art alone, people were a distraction, but when she finished her sketches , she would come join us.”

Jughead glanced over at her again. He was the exact same way, whenever he was writing something new he had to have complete focus and silence.

After two burgers and four chapters, he felt a shift at the table. Looking up expecting to see Archie, he started speaking

“Dude, I don’t think…” his eyes caught on the beautiful bright green ones staring back at him and giggling.

“I haven’t been called dude in a very long time, I mean I’ll take it, but most people call me Betty.” She gently placed her sketch book on the table and jughead resisted the urge to grab it and flip through the pages.
Apparently he could no longer speak, that ability was now gone from his life.
She seemed to take his silence as a bad thing, and quickly started playing with her fingers
“Your friend.. Veronica? I think it was. She invited me to come sit, I totally understand if you’re busy, do you write?”

The simple question seemed to Knock him out of his stupor. “Uh.. yes. I write stories, I’m currently working on one regarding riverdales secrets.” He mumbled out

Her eyes lit up and she leaned over the table slightly “I’ve been wondering about all the things This little town has to hide. Can I read it when you’re done. I’m always down for a mystery.”
He smiled at her enthusiasm
“I’ll let you read it, if you let me look at your drawings” he said confidently.

She placed an open palm over her notebook and stuck her free hand out, wiggling her finger tips
“You got a deal….?”

“Jughead. Jughead jones.” He prepared himself for the ridicule that always came with his first name. But she just smiled warmly

“You got a deal Jughead jones”

As soon as their hands touched, he felt an unfamiliar tingle, no way , this was not some teen romance, this was riverdale. This was him.
He looked into her eyes to see if she felt it as well, sure enough she was staring at their joined hands wide eyed.

“Well look who’s getting all cozy. I told you Jughead, she’s just like you. Only cooler.”

Kevin, Veronica and Archie were all standing over the diner table and smiling at the pair, pulling his hand away he whispered for only Betty to hear

“Welcome to the Scooby gang Velma.”

charmer week day 1: meet-cute

wow, me actually try to keep up with a writing challenge? sounds fake. but it’s only day one, so we’ll have to see. anyway, @charmerweek, this one’s for you.

***

Six minutes before his 9 A.M. class started, Chowder was in his usual seat when the girl who always sat two seats over from him came in. Normally, this wouldn’t have been remarkable, but today it was, and it was for a few reasons.

1. She had a massive coffee stain down her white t-shirt.
2. Her right wrist was in a black brace, the kind kept together with velcro.
3. She was crying. Not quietly crying, either. Big, ugly, snotty sobs. Her face was blotchy and red, shiny where she had wiped tears away.

Keep reading

weesinginglassie  asked:

Dear Wonderful Mods over here at Imagine.... I am an Outlander Fanfic junkie....I likely need a twelve step program...I stopped reading actual books (of which I used to be an avid reader) and have read nothing but Outlander Fanfic for the last year. It's what I look forward to most very day.... I also like to reread some of the older stuff. I have been desperately trying to find an older fic (can't remember the title or author)... Jamie takes Claire to the stones. 1/2

second part pf question…. they land back in 1743 and try to make the good stuff happen ie: end up married etc., but not the bad stuff. no Wentworth, no losing Faith. Meanwhile at Leoch Claire orders a beautiful sword made for Jamie from a visiting Irish swordmaker. Jealous Jamie thinks C’s spending too much time with Irishman etc… Please! Does anyone know the title to this fic and the author??? Desperate! Please and Thank you all!!!

MOD Note: None of us here at Imagone can place this, so sorry Weesinginglassie. But have some CoC as a soothe for your fanfiction addiction itch. Hope this he helps <3 


Chain of Command - Part 4

It happened very gradually, the steady increase in her size. For a while she managed to hide it effectively with just her skirts and tighter corsets. But soon it became obvious that she was going to have to procure other methods for keeping her pregnancy quiet.

Her time at Lallybroch since her brief incarceration in Inverness had been heavily guarded. Never before had Mama Crook and Brian Fraser been so intent on keeping Claire close to hand.

She’d been kept away from any activities where she was required to leave the house for more than a few moments and her duties in the kitchens had been increased tenfold.

She was under house arrest and she knew it.

Having broken the trust of her adoptive mother, Claire didn’t argue about this silent punishment but it was making her state harder and harder to conceal.

Slamming the book shut, Claire threw the heavy pages onto the floor heaving out a massive sigh as desperation took over.

“I made a vow to keep you safe, and I mean to keep that promise.” She sighed, wrapping the thick cotton around her middle to try and mute the growing swell of her belly.

She had read many pages of interesting advice on pregnancy and care of an unborn baby - but none helped her in the art of keeping it a secret.

Her forays into the underworld of abortion, even as short lived as it had been, had made her incredibly aware of the gift she had growing within her. Guilt also gripped her. She’d come too close to making a disastrous decision and the implications of that made Claire even more determined to do the best for her child - no matter what.

The bairn was precious. Not only was it a part of her, but an extension of her secret love for Jamie. Whatever happened come the birth, Claire would fight with everything she had to raise the baby. Even if that meant losing her position with the Frasers.  

As the seasons turned, the calm quiet at Broch Tuarach broke. The arrival of the MacKenzie party brought a hive of activity to Lallybroch. Ellen’s brothers, Collum and Dougal entered like a tour de force, bringing with them a few of their close relatives. It meant that Claire was snowed under with tasks - from sewing Brian’s best shirts to a constant barrage of cooking and cleaning.

Most of these activities, Claire could cope with. But one unwelcome guest filled her with unknown dread.

Laoghaire MacKenzie was a petite blonde lassie with a wide smile. Given her new house bound status, Claire could only watch through the dusty windows of the big house as the young girl followed Jamie around like a little lost puppy. She watched through wide whisky eyes as Mistress Laoghaire batted her large blue ones, flashing wide toothy smiles and adorning Jamie with sly touches here and there.

Alone in the dusk of the MacKenzie’s first week in the house, Claire slid beneath her well worn sheets, melancholia encasing her. She’d spent the day casting sorrowful glances at Jamie and Laoghaire as the pair had lunged horses in the pastures closest to the kitchen.

Claire had snuck out for an hour, excusing herself to pick herbs in the front garden but the sight of them laughing and joking together had twisted her gut and she’d rushed back inside as quickly as possible, averting her gaze from the action.

“Maybe she’s the one,” Claire sobbed, her hands shaking as they rested on her bloated abdomen, “maybe she’s who he is promised to.”

The babe was more active now, the butterflies morphing into something infinitely more noticeable. As if her unborn sensed her despair, the distinctive feeling of a palm pressed against the inside of her womb.

Holding back a sob, Claire mimicked the motion, trying to capture the hand of her baby. “Maybe,” she whispered, defeat lacing her tone, “m-maybe she’s the one he’ll marry.”

It didn’t take long for Claire to fall into a restless sleep. She tossed and turned, her toes clenching as she dreamed of what her life might be like in only a few months time.

The subtle tang of whisky invaded her senses as she curled her hand around something firm and warm, its human-like heat almost bringing her round. It wasn’t until soft lips touched hers that she jerked awake.

“Hush, Claire,” Jamie soothed, his face a blur in the dark chambers, “‘tis only me…I havena seen ye in so long, a ghraidh…” his voice held such intense longing that Claire felt bad for thinking he was anything less that committed to her. Flashes of his week with the MacKenzie’s, though, appeared before her eyes reminding her in an instant why she had a right to be afraid.

“You know I couldn’t come and find you,” she whispered, her lips seeking his as she felt his breath waft over her face, “Mama Crook has been keeping me busy.”

Jamie wasn’t blind. He had noticed the almost exasperatingly close eye Mrs Crook had been keeping on Claire. Something had happened on their trip to Inverness, he knew that much. But his Da was being annoyingly quiet on the matter.

“That’s why I had to come and see you,” he mumbled, ignoring the need to ask the question. He had a feeling Claire would be equally tight lipped about it. “I’ve missed ye.”

Wrapping her hand around the back of his neck, Claire brought him closer, being careful not to expose her stomach to him - lest he notice the newly formed bump that sat in place of her usually flat belly.

“I’ve missed you too,” Claire replied, unable to hold back. “So much, b-but I know you have *duties* to attend to. I know I can’t monopolise all of your time.”

“Yes, mo nighean donn, ye can,” he interrupted, keen to ensure she knew how much he had needed her close by his side. “I’ve had t’ babysit Collum’s niece the whole week. Ye have *no* idea how infuriating the lassie is!”

Smiling, Claire immediately felt mean for being glad that he hadn’t entirely _liked_ Laoghaire’s company. The fact that he never used her name in conversation made her smile all the wider.

“Go on…” Claire begged, tipping her head to the side as she awaited a fresh kiss, “tell me what annoyed you so.”

Chuckling, Jamie ran a lone finger across Claire’s heated brow as he nudged his nose against hers. “Weel, for a start she doesna hush. She talks nonstop about the most absurd things. Baubles, trinkets and shiny things that I have no interest in.”

“But she helped you with the mares the other day, she seemed invested in that,” Claire probed, her heart lightening significantly as Jamie’s tale went on.

“Aye, she wa’ there alright, but she wasna interested in that actual job of it. The whole time I couldna help but wish it had been you out there wi’ me. You’re helpful!”

“I recall last time,” Claire laughed, energised by this turn of events, “you told me that I was a liability with the horses!”

“Ha!” Jamie scoffed, rolling his eyes in the dim blackness, “well now I know better, don’t I.”

“Good to know,” Claire returned, snuggling against Jamie’s neck as the birds began to tweet outside. Morning was coming.

Moving his hand gently down her chin, along her neck and over her collarbone, Jamie made to sneak his fingers beneath Claire’s bedsheets - needing to feel her, desperately seeking her warmth.

Claire’s heart stopped, a deep pounding rattling her bones as she hastily grabbed Jamie, ceasing his movements completely. “Not now, we can’t –not enough time,” she whispered, her mouth going instantly dry.

“Aye,” Jamie replied breathlessly, “I ken.”

She could tell that he was disappointed, and so was she. Even here, alone and cocooned in the dark of her bedroom she hadn’t the strength to tell him. Looking him deep in the eyes, she noticed the pure innocence that radiated from him. She felt a bolt of lightning shoot through her and – in that moment –  she almost told him. Almost.

But the cuckoo clock chimed upstairs, the ding of it reverberating through the floors of the big house causing the floorboards to shake.

“I haveta go, Claire,” Jamie sighed, defeated. He’d felt something change in that moment and he had been *certain* she was about to tell him something. But the chance had gone, broken by the sounds of the house beginning to wake for the day. “But I’ll see ye soon, aye?”

“Yes,” Claire answered, watching sorrowfully as Jamie disappeared back upstairs. “I’ll be here…we’ll be here…”

It wasn’t long after that the MacKenzie’s made their apologies and left - back to Leoch. With Laoghaire gone, Claire relaxed, her fears that she might be bound for Jamie’s affections fading. She could dutifully ignore everything else and the days began to bleed into one another.

Waking one night, alone, she felt her skin prickle with want, her thighs clenching as if Jamie had been there touching her.

“No,” she sighed, determined to fight the urge, “can’t…”

Sleepy as she was, she could feel desire tugging at her, its persistent voice growing only louder as she tried to force herself back to sleep.

Claire could feel him, even though she was certain that he wasn’t *actually* there.

Twisting onto her other side, her face now angled towards the door, she blinked. Her eyes opened slowly, allowing her gaze the chance to adapt to the inky blackness that surrounded her. The door remained closed.

'For the best,’ she thought, blearily. Knowing that she would have broken down – and told him everything before begging him to take her – had he appeared.

Slipping her hand between her legs, Claire calmly slid her shift aside. Temptation was too much, in the end, and she shut out the niggling doubts that whispered at her not to touch herself like this. With Jamie still close by she could ignore the depressing thoughts and focus on the more positive ones.

Brian, she’d overheard once, had often told the boys that although the bible saw it as a sin, they were better off committing acts of self gratification than getting themselves into bother with ladies and intercourse.

Taking this advice, Claire mimicked Jamie’s actions - from what she remembered of them - sneaking her palm between the crease of her legs and applying pressure to where she ached the most.

A burst of lust shot through her on first contact, and she thrust her hips, her teeth biting around her pillow in an attempted to quell the wails she so desperately wanted to unleash at the feeling.

It wasn’t Jamie, but she could imagine that it was. It was his voice that whispered in her ear. ’That’s it, Claire. Aye. Come to me, mo nighean..’

Curling her fingers, Claire gathered the growing moisture using the lubrication to stimulate her further as she wrapped herself neatly around her protruding belly.

She swore she could feel Jamie as waves of pleasure washed over her, the current pulling her under time and time again as her spine flexed and her knees trembled. Faster she moved, sweat gathering on her brow and dripping down the side of her face as she moaned soundlessly, crying out Jamie’s name as a deep throb intensified and rolled through her bones. She felt weightless, tingling beginning in her toes as her tongue peeked out from between her red stained lips.

“J-a-m-i-e…” she panted, her muscles spasming as she jerked and stilled, her body trembling with the pressure of it as she pulled in shallow breaths to remain conscious and lucid.

Claire awoke as the sun burst in through her tiny window, sleep colouring her vision as she rubbed her eyes and stretched her legs beneath the sheets. Morning. The chime of the clock brought her around fully as the telltale sign of life pounded above her.

Sunday.

The irony wasn’t lost on her. A day for church. A day for confession, if she so needed. The night before appeared behind her lids and she blinked away the memory.

She had so much to atone for, and too little time.

Grabbing the large bandages, Claire began to strap herself up, all the while being careful not to hem herself in too tightly. Her corsets felt uncomfortable now, their intricate boning jabbing her in all the wrong places as she tried to ensure her tummy didn’t look suspiciously large.

She could feel the baby flop inside her, the tiny bairn wriggling as if vocally displeased with her new living arrangements.

“I’m sorry,” Claire whispered, looking down at her now (mostly) flat abdomen, “I’m so sorry, sweet one. Not for much longer…promise.”

Following studiously behind Mama Crook, Claire filed into the pews, taking her seat behind the Fraser’s as the priest began the sermon. She didn’t hear a word. The hour passed like a blur in front of her eyes as she nervously jiggled her leg against the cold stone floor of the church.

She knew the priest, they all did. And although she knew he was sworn to secrecy - she was no less afraid to discuss this matter with him.

Someone would now know her secret.

Someone who *still* wasn’t Jamie.

That thought tugged at her heart and she felt distinctly like a scarlet woman.

Waiting quietly, Claire counted the lead lines that lay between each beautiful portrait on the stained glass windows. Images of biblical events filled her vision - the pregnant depiction of Mary being raised to the heavens by God to be the mother of his child cementing itself in her brain as she sat rigidly in the wooden seats.

She was no chosen one. Simply a girl caught in a spot of trouble.

“Claire?” Mama Crook called, waking Claire from her daydreaming, “time for ye, lass…”

Stumbling towards the confessional, Claire gripped her rosary tight. Truly she hadn’t much thought of religion. She had gone to church, confessed and prayed like everyone else but it had never been something she’d either feared or delighted in. It simply was the way of life.

Now, however, it seemed incredibly significant.

“F-forgive me, father,” Claire began, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she shifted against the cushioned seat of the confessional box, “for I have sinned…”

“Don’t Objectify Me” (Dean x Reader)

The first of two for tonight and then I’ve got to study for my finals tomorrow. 

Happy Reading!

Words: 1971

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Excessive cuteness

Excerpt:  He huffed again but stayed silent.  The three of you, with the help of Cas back at the bunker, were investigating a string of homicides in Oklahoma.  Three people had been killed inside of a week, but that hadn’t even been the strangest part.  The bodies hadn’t just been mutilated, they’d been practically decimated.  Their chests had been ripped open and their lungs had been removed.  It was positively gruesome.

Forever Tags: @fairchild21

Tagging: @beccaanne814-blog

Originally posted by petuniakestrel

You paced back and forth waiting for Dean to come out of the house of one of the victims.  Of course, you couldn’t go in with him—you were the watchdog. You were always the watchdog.  Dean was always the one putting himself in the line of fire, and you were always just…watching.

“Easy kid,” Dean said, coming up behind you.  “You’re gonna wear a hole in the concrete.”

Keep reading

Red Jamie and the White Lady - Part 15

Thank you all for your support with this story! I think the action is only going to get more intense as it goes on, so buckle in. I’d apologize for the cliffhanger last week, but… I’m not sorry. It’s far too much fun to watch everyone’s reactions. Anywhoo. Here’s the next chapter! As always, thank you to my wonderful co-creators @diversemediums and @outlandishchridhe who are amazing brainstormers and idea makers!

Catch up on part 14 HERE or the whole story on AO3


Previously…

She could feel her body going under, see spots in her vision. Most of all, she could feel Jamie starting to thrash, hear him bite back a cry.

No!

“Claire, ye need to get him out. Now!”

Keep reading

Borrowed Books and Long Showers | Draco Malfoy x Reader

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Requested: Yep!

67. “You’re strong, baby. You have to be.”
70. “I can’t stand seeing you like this.”
98. “Don’t shut me out.”

Requests: Open!

Summary: You and Draco meet again after the war and things become serious. You struggle with your mental health because of PTSD from the war, he helps. Super fluffy ending. This is a roller coaster ride tbh I am so sorry. Angst, fluffy fluff.

Warnings: PTSD, mentions of Cruciatus Curse, swearing

Words: 2807

A/N: I’m posting this with less than an hour left of the 20th anniversary of Harry Potter!! As stated before, this is a roller coaster ride so I apologize. I hope you all find it at least somewhat cute. I have written a lot of the reader comforting Draco lately so I decided to switch it up a bit for this one! Feel free to reblog and feedback is greatly appreciated!!


             The magical healers were unparalleled in their abilities to heal the wounded body. Magic could regrow bones, seal gaping wounds, and create fully functional prosthetics. But what magic couldn’t do is heal the wounded mind, and you knew that fact all too well. You had been a Gryffindor while you were at Hogwarts, a part of Dumbledore’s Army, and a muggle born at that, so when the war rolled around, the new management did not take too kindly to you. You also had been involved when the DA was ambushed at the Department of Mysteries, as well had been harshly interrogated during your seventh year under the death eater reign on the school because you were believed to know where the Golden Trio was hiding. After the Carrow Siblings were appointed as professors and they began using, and making other students use, the Cruciatus Curse in detentions, where you found yourself often because of your resistance, you fought alongside Neville and Ginny to reestablish the DA and push back against the strong fist in which Voldemort held the school with. Because of all this, you often found yourself waking in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, a scream tearing your throat, and days where the flashbacks were so bad you could barely get out of bed. Potions and charms could fix the deep cuts and dark bruises you earned in the battles, but they couldn’t soothe the wounds of the PTSD you were left with.

             It was because of this that everyone was shocked when they heard the news that you and Draco Malfoy had started seeing each other. Though, you couldn’t blame them, you were a bit surprised as well. You had been in a book store in Diagon Alley, two days before your paycheck would be in, and looking at the newest book in your favorite series. As you reached up to grab the book on a shelf you realized you were too short, and while you were looking around for a foot stool, you had seen him seated across the store at a table. When you made eye contact with him you found yourself smiling at him softly, and you were a bit astonished when the corners of his mouth twitched up with a small smile. After reaching the book you had your eye on, you checked the price and the number of galleons in your pocket, realizing you didn’t have enough you pursed your lips and placed the book back where you had found it before exiting the store with the intention to return in a couple days. But when you returned home to your small apartment after work the next day, you found that an owl sitting on your window sill. When you opened the glass it dropped by a small rectangular package wrapped in brown paper, a note attached. Upon opening it you found it was the latest book in your favorite series. Grinning, you opening the note and read it,

          ‘I wanted to apologize, but didn’t know how. I hoped that this would be a good start. I can’t put into words how much I want to thank you for your smile.

          -D.M.’

             It was simple, but it carried massive weight. You quickly scrambled to get paper and a pen, checking to see if the owl was still there. When it was, you scrawled out a letter in response.

             ‘Thank you for the book, I really appreciate it. There is no need to thank me for a smile, I believe strongly in second chances and redemption.

             -Y/F/A. Y/L/A.’

             After that you attached it to the owl and sent it off then sat down with your new book. You were a couple pages in when you idly wondered if you would be receiving a letter back. You didn’t.

             It was later that week, after you got paid, that you decided to go to a new café in Diagon Alley to read more. When you got there and waited for your coffee, booked tucked under your arm, you surveyed the large room. It was quaint and cozy, not many people were talking and there was a fireplace in the corner. And, to your surprise, you saw the same familiar face as you did before in the book shop. You bit your lip, wondering if you should ask to sit with him or to find somewhere else to make yourself cozy. Moments later your name was called to pick up your order, causing Draco to look up from the paper he was reading. Grabbing your drink, you glanced over to where he was sitting and found that he was still looking in your direction. You smiled warmly and waved, and he gave you the same small smile he did the day before, lifting a hand slightly for a subtle and hesitant wave back, before he returned to the paper. With a spark of courage, you were a Gryffindor after all, you made your way over to the table by the fireplace and plopped down in the seat in front of him. Startled, he looked up.

             “This is a wonderful little place, isn’t it? I’m so glad it opened up.” You said with a grin, looking around the place again, “What do you think?”

             “Yes, I agree,” He responded, surprise was still evident on his face.

             “Thank you again for the book. I was wondering if you were going to respond to my letter but you never did.” You couldn’t hide the disappointment in your voice as you took a sip of your coffee.

             Draco took a moment to reply, as if he was carefully formulating what he was going to say. “I didn’t want to overstep my bounds.”

             “Nonsense,” You said with a smile and a dismissive wave of your hand. “Speaking of overstepping bounds, is it alright that I sit here with you?” You hoped he would say it was. You didn’t know exactly why you were sitting across from someone who a year earlier would have called you a slur and cursed you, but he was making an effort to change. Word had it that he had cut ties with his family and was training to become a healer. Some said it was selfish reasons, that they were holding his image back and if he cut ties it would help him seem more progressive, but most everyone knew the amount of pressure that was put on him by his family to do what he did, so most left it alone. Though leaving it alone is far from acceptance.

             “Yes,” He said with that smile that you were growing fond of, “It’s alright.”

             You grinned before opening your book and began reading. It was a while before either of you spoke up, this time it was Draco who broke the silence. “What is it about?” He asked, nodding to your book.

             That then caused you to go on a long winded and excited explanation of the series, your eyes lighting up as you talked about the depth of the protagonist, your hands gesturing wildly as you went on and on about character development and different plot arcs. Draco listened intently, his eyes rarely leaving your form as you talked. He frowned when an apologetic look found its way onto your face and you apologized, saying that was probably more than what he wanted to know and your friends always tell you that you had a habit of getting a bit overzealous at times.

             “No, I enjoyed listening, if you like them that much I may have to read them.” He smiled encouragingly, a genuine smile. Not the small reserved one you had seen previously. There was a faint pull in his chest when he realized that your friends had censored your excitement so much that it made you apologize for something you were talking passionately about.

             “I own all of them, you can borrow them if you’d like.” You offered before finishing the last of your coffee.

             “I’d like that.” He nodded, though he was unsure if he liked the fact that you’d be loaning him the books or the fact that this meant that there were going to be future interactions with you.

             After that you had loaned him all the books. It was a mildly long series too so it meant that you’d keep having to converse frequently to exchange the books as well as you could discuss what he thought of them and different theories about the plot. It was at a few books in when you told him you were too busy to meet at the coffee shop to give him the next book in the series and that he could stop by your flat to exchange the old one for the next. He said he could just send his owl but you insisted he stop by. When he knocked on your door and heard a ‘Come on in,’ he opened the door a bit cautiously, as if the second he stepped over the threshold you would kick him out, but instead he found you at the stove, wand tucked behind your ear, various pots being stirred by enchanted spoons.

             “The books are over on the bookcase on the left, you’re welcome to stay for dinner as well, I accidentally made a bit too much for just myself.” You nodded toward one of the bookcases in your living room.

             “Accidentally?” He asked, an amused smirk on his lips as he realized the real reason you insisted on him coming in person.

             “Accidentally.” You winked before returning to the food.

             You two somehow made it a weekly event, one night a week one of you would go to the other’s house for dinner, staying after to talk or just enjoy each other’s presence while you read or caught up on work. Then it moved to two nights a week, then three, then almost every night together. You don’t exactly know how it happened but one moment you were sitting on the couch discussing the series, as he had just finished the latest book, and the next your lips were on his, his fingers tanged in your hair and both of you breathless. You started dating soon after, much to everyone’s surprise. Hermione shrieked and Ginny knocked over a glass of water when you told them at your weekly girls’ brunch. They soon accepted it though, they figured if you trusted him and Harry testified to Draco’s innocence at the trials, they could accept him into their lives by proxy. You began living together after a year, and had now been dating for three years.

             You kept your nightmares from him as long as possible. When he woke up alone and knocked on the bathroom door asking if you were alright you explained it was just that you probably ate something bad and were extremely nauseous, you didn’t know he didn’t believe you. It was when you work up screaming one night that you finally told him. You didn’t want him to feel guilty, because it wasn’t his fault. Draco held you close to his chest, drawing soothing circles with his hand across your back and telling you to breathe with him. When he asked why you hadn’t told him before you hesitated before telling him the reason.

             “Darling, please tell me when you have these nightmares, I know what you’ve been through, I’m here for you. I can’t stand seeing you like this. Please, let me help.” And so, you did. When you had nightmares that hit too close to home, times when you spent hours in the shower, the heavy water beating down on your back in an attempt to ground you back into reality, and the days when you went nights without sleeping because you couldn’t stand the vivid scenes from your memory flashing behind your eyelids, he’d do whatever he could to help you.

             “My love, I’m home!” Draco called as he walked into your now shared flat from returning from St. Mungo’s. He frowned when he got no reply, setting down his bag and quickly walking through the rooms until he heard the shower running in the bathroom. He cursed to himself, you were just about to get in the shower when he was leaving that morning to go to work. Carefully opening up the as to not startle you he said your name quietly. Upon entering and pulling back the shower curtain he found you sitting on the floor, half clothed, only in your underwear, the spray raining down on your neck and back.

             Quickly Draco stripped down as well until he was just in his boxers and got in alongside you, as he has done before when he would find you like this, caught in the painful world of the past. He sat down behind you so that you fit between his legs and wrapped his arms around your waist, and put his chin on your shoulder. Immediately you stiffened, your eyes glassy, still not responding to the soft words he spoke. You were far away. A place where your friends were forced to use unforgivable curses on you, and you on them. Where searing pain of a thousand knives’ blades permeated your senses.

             “Don’t shut me out. Listen to my voice, follow the sound of it, come back to me.” He whispered, holding you tight, as you slowly relaxed into his chest, “You’re strong, baby. You have to be. Please listen, come back to me, I’m here.”

             When you finally came back from the memories that still held you like an iron fist, you thanked Draco softly, only for him to reply that you didn’t need to thank him. He helped you up out of the shower, drying you off and getting your new clothes from your closet, before picking you up and carrying you into bed. After he got into bed with you, you quickly snuggled into his side.

             “Y/N, my love,” He said after a moment and you knew what was coming, “Please, come with me to work tomorrow so you can see someone. I think it would be really beneficial for you to talk to someone. St. Mungo’s doesn’t just have departments for bodily health. Please?” His voice was tender has he stroked your face with is thumb, planting a soft kiss to your forehead.  

             You nodded, sighing. You both stayed quiet for a moment, savoring each other’s touch.

             “Would you like me to read to you?” Draco asked after a moment, smiling down at you.

             “I’d love that.”

             He got up, leaving the bedroom briefly and returning with the first book of your favorite series. You laid your head on his lap as he started at page one. Looking up at him, watching the way his mouth moved as he spoke and his beautiful eyes shifted along the words, you knew you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

You two had long since said ‘I love you’ to each other. Draco was the one who said it first. It was after your sixth month anniversary and you had just gotten back from your special celebratory date. You were kissing each other, hard and breathless, when he had suddenly pulled back, looking at you as if in awe, only to whisper those fateful three words. You said it back immediately, of course, you knew almost a week in that you loved him. But it was now, looking up at him, your rock, that you knew that you wanted to grow old with him.

“Draco, will you marry me?” The words left your mouth before you knew what you were saying.

He stopped reading mid-sentence, and your face went red as you realized the weight of what you just asked him. “I don’t have a ring though,” You laughed, trying to ease atmosphere.

He laughed quietly as well, his grey eyes shining “I do.”

“What?” You asked, sitting up.

“I have a ring. I was going to ask you next week but of course you jumped the gun and asked me first.” Draco got up, walking over to his sock drawer and pulling out a small velvet box. “I should have known my Gryffindor girlfriend would have the guts to ask me first.”

You gasped, jumping up and quickly running over to him. He got down on one knee in front of you, taking your hand in his.

“Y/F/N Y/L/M, will you m—” Was as far as he got before you sprang forward and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yes!” You yelled as his hands went around your waist, pulling back after a moment to shakily put the ring on your left hand. Pulling you in for a kiss, you both knew that this was the start of a perfect forever.

anonymous asked:

Shifted prompt: I would love to hear more of baby William. Just common daily activities, maybe Jamie helping take care of the fussing baby so Claire can get a job done.

anonymous asked: In the Shifted AU, can we have something where Bree bonds with baby William. Something when the kids are young. :) Thanks!

For the next few weeks I’ll be writing one-shots in the Shifted universe, filling in the blanks that we don’t see in the main story, before we resume the main action with Part 7 - The Visitor.

If there is a particular scene you’d like to see, send me an ask and I’ll see what I can do!

In Shifted, the premise is simple - what if Claire had gotten pregnant with Brianna a month or two earlier in the story, and she and Jamie had re-evaluated  their priorities and decided that the cause was lost, and they were able to slip away from the army and quietly return to Lallybroch?

Previous installments…


Interlude – The Assistant

Lallybroch, Autumn 1753

“…and if the wound continues to be all red and puffy in the next few days, add water to this powder and apply it generously to the area. And don’t hesitate to come back for more, if you need it. All right?”

Rosie MacNab, married to one of Grannie MacNab’s army of sons, enthusiastically nodded her head in understanding. “Aye, I understand. Thank ye so much, milady!”

“*Claire,* please. And I’m not the milady, you know that – ”

“Och, that doesna matter to me!” Rosie’s kind, yet weather-lined face creased into a smile, flashing a set of teeth that (despite Claire’s best efforts) had already started to decay. “We all ken weel just how much yer husband has had to sacrifice, just to keep us all safe on the estate. It doesna matter that it’s Young Jamie’s now – yer Jamie will *always* be the laird to us. As long as my mother-in-law walks the earth, anyway.”

Claire pressed her lips, still so uncomfortable at such outbursts of praise. Even seven years after Culloden, some wounds still felt so fresh. Jamie had never regretted deeding Lallybroch to his nephew – but she wondered if that choice ever grated on him. Especially now that he had his own son.

Said son chose that exact moment to squawk awake in his basket at Claire’s foot.

“Oh! That must be the wee laddie!”

Claire flashed her own smile as she bent to gently lift four-month-old William Fraser to her shoulder. His cries immediately stopped, and he looked around her surgery with wide, bright eyes.

“There, there. You just *had* to join in on the conversation, didn’t you?”

“Isn’t he the most handsome wee bairn! Looks just like ye, too!”

Claire wrapped William’s blanket – knit so lovingly by his aunt – tighter around his tiny shoulders, smiling as he shoved his fist into his mouth. “Well – since my daughter is the spit of my husband, it’s only fair that my son can take after me a bit, hmm?”

Rosie impulsively bent to kiss William’s soft hair, before pocketing the handkerchief in which Claire had wrapped the dried herbs and then standing. Claire rose as well, and the two women exchanged a quick hug.

“Thank ye again! I can see myself out – no need for ye to give the lad a chill!”

Brianna poked her bright, inquisitive head around the corner just as Rosie departed. “Is he awake?”

William jerked in excitement at the sound of his beloved sister’s voice, squirming against his blanket.

“Sshh. Yes, sweetheart – Bree is here!” Claire cooed, turning so that he could watch his sister skip into the room.

“Can I take him?” Brianna, aged six, doted on her brother like nothing her parents, aunt and uncle, godfather, and the Lallybroch staff had ever seen. Caring for him gave her a great sense of responsibility – and she never tired of showing him off, either.

“Of course. But – ”

“But be gentle and keep him warm. Aye, Mama – I ken fine,” Brianna huffed, extending her arms. Claire carefully lay William against her shoulder, swaddling him in an extra blanket from his basket, and Brianna lay a steadying arm against her brother’s small back.

“Aye, *a bhailach*. All comfortable, no? Let’s go see what Da is up to…”

Softly, carefully Brianna padded out of Claire’s stillroom and toward Jamie’s study down the hall.

Claire’s heart soared – so happy to see further proof of the profound love between her children – and happy to finally have some time to herself. She opened her journal to a fresh page and began entering the details around Paul MacNab’s injury – and just how dedicated Rosie was to fix him.

“…barley perhaps? Of course we’ll have the potatoes, but I’m thinking we get that fallow field back into production now, so that we can harvest in the late winter?”

Ian Murray settled a bit deeper into his high-backed chair, rubbing the stump of his leg, thinking. “Aye – I suppose we could. It’s always good to have the variety – and Young Jamie is old enough to really help you out this time.”

Jamie crossed his left leg over his right, balancing a ledger on his knee, forefinger tracing down a long column of figures scrawled in Ian’s spidery hand. “The last time we planted there, the yield was fifty bushels. I think we could definitely – ”

“Hi, Da! What are ye doing?” Brianna burst in, William cradled to her chest, his wee dark head resting comfortably on her shoulder.

“*Ciamar a tha thu, mo nighean ruaidh*?” he greeted her, extending his free hand. Mindful of her brother, Brianna gently settled against his side. “As happy as I am to see you, it isna verra considerate of yer uncle for ye to just barge in wi’out knocking.”

“Oh, it’s nae bother,” Ian kindly insisted, already reaching for his wooden leg to strap it into position. “Might as well let Jamie ken he’ll be expected to help ye till the field. Canna have him grumbling like a bairn to his Mam again.”

William stirred a bit. Jamie closed the ledger, set it on the floor, and in one smooth motion picked up Brianna and set her on his lap. She snuggled, her back to his front, and he lay a gentle arm around them both.

“When will I be old enough to help Jamie wi’ the planting?”

Ian positioned his stump into the wooden leg and looked up at his niece. “Are ye sure ye want to help, then? It’s no’ an easy job. And ye’d have to do *exactly* as yer Da says.”

“I’d love for ye to help me, but ye’re too small to guide the horses.” He felt Brianna inhale a deep breath to protest, but lay a hand on her wee knee. “No – dinna say ye ken how to make them work. It’s verra different than when we go riding – the horses need to focus. And ye must ken what to ask them to do. Otherwise it’s a lot of work and ye dinna get anything out of it. And we dinna like anything to go to waste, aye?”

Brianna sighed against him, but nodded, resigned.

Ian stood – shaky for the first few seconds, but then slowly regained his balance. “It’s verra kind of ye to ask. But does yer Mam no’ need help wi’ the surgery? I thought ye liked doing that.”

“She does need the help – but she doesna let me do everything yet!”

“Ye need to be patient. Enjoy being a girl. Dinna grow into a woman quite so fast,” Jamie said quietly. Thoughtfully. “And did ye no promise to care for yer wee brother? To see him grow safe and strong?”

Brianna nestled her brother closer, feeling him go all boneless with sleep. “Aye, I did.” Her voice was soft – dreamy – far away.

Ian nodded and quietly took his leave of the three Frasers.

Jamie held his miracles – his world – in his lap.

“Can ye tell us a story, Da?” Brianna whispered after a while, turning to rest her face against his shoulder. “I think William enjoys the one about the laird and lady who were living in Paris.”

Jamie shifted in his chair so that Brianna and William – sound asleep now – could get more comfortable.

“Of course. One day, the laird and lady were invited to the most fancy dress party you could dream of. The laird wore his plaid, of course, but the lady wore a red dress that was so beautiful, all the other men at the party couldna help but stare at her…”

Summoned

This ficlet is part of the Jamie Through the Stones AU which starts with Third Time’s the Charm.

This ficlet is a direct continuation from The Birth Certificate

My Fanfiction Master List

Available on AO3 as Written in the Stones

This is an Outlander canon divergence AU ficlet.

Let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: I did not have time to do research on how divorce proceedings in Scotland in 1958/1959 would have unfolded so this is almost certainly in no way historically accurate. I also don’t care that it’s not.

Keep reading

The Fear of Forgetting - Chapter 2

The task of cleaning the mess completed downstairs, it was time to get the once derailed morning underway. A very focused Faith stood facing her open armoire in a clean shift rhythmically tapping her feet on the wooden floor. She ran her hands over the folded fabrics, concentrating on selecting the right one. Her deft fingers searched the necklines for the stitched letters her mother and aunt had meticulously sewn into them to spell out the color for her. The texture of the cloth was also an invaluable clue to her - if it was smooth, light, and delicate it was silk, good for Lallybroch’s formal occasions. Prickly, rough, and weighted meant wool - her beloved forbidden Fraser arisaid with stag brooch that kept out the cold, or her favorite autumnal skirt with rose applique. What she needed now, though, was one of her simple linen dresses, an apron, as well as her shawl for the busy day ahead. The one marked blue would be the right choice, she surmised considering what lay before her. Mam had promised, after their earlier argument, to take some time out of her schedule for a long overdue discussion.

Keep reading

If I lost you, I would’ve killed you

Request from : Anonymous

“I almost lost you” - 7

“If you die, I will kill you” - 44


Dan’s POV

“Okay, Phil’s going to be back soon but babe, you know you can call me if you need something call me. I love you” Was the last thing I said to her.

It started last week.

Y/n looked up to me from the bed from under all of the covers. “It’s just a cold, I’m fine. I get them all the time. You know that.”

I leaned down and kissed her forehead. Which was much warmer than it should be. “Okay, get some rest babe. I’ll be back in the afternoon with good food and medicine for you.” I said as I was holding onto her. I squeezed her hand and smiled gently. “I love you.”

Y/n nodded in response. “I love you too. Now go, so you’re not late for your meeting. And the sooner you go, the sooner you come back. It’s not like I’m dying or anything.” She said nonchalantly.

Sternly, I said “Alright fine, I’ll go. But if you die, I will kill you.”

Keep reading

Credits to the rightful owners Professionals?Marfia!btswords - 2100genre - humour A/N - READ THIS FIRST. But I hope you enjoy this as ive never even tried to write like this before~~Thank you! You remember how you felt when you first got the call, the first answer was ‘fuck no’ because, I mean, who would want to look after some captives from some gang for another gang for 24 hours straight? No one. No matter how many “your our only hope left”, “just this once until we’re back” and “we can’t call anyone else” - s you still give this one a no. But money talks, especially big money. And money said ‘hell yeah’ this time. 

Keep reading

A - Chanyeol

Member: Chanyeol (EXO)

Summary: A chanyeol scenario based on Got7’s A

Word Count: 1115

Genre: Fluff

Author’s Note: I’m sorry if this isn’t the best scenario. It at least isn’t the best i could write. Where i live it pretty late and my English might  get confusing. I hope you enjoy it either way AAAA

——–

🎶Ei da aneunde wae jakku sumgyeo🎶

🎶Hey I already know everything so why are you hiding🎶

‘____-ah!’

You heard your friend shout-whisper in your ear. Immediately you sat up and looked around you to see if someone witnessed you dozing off, only to be greeted by a beautiful smile of the man sitting across you. Yes, the man all of you are thinking about Park Chan Yeol. School’s treasure.

You liked him since 5th grade, why wasn’t a mystery. He’s incredibly handsome, always gets good grades, an absolute sweetheart and not to forget very talented. He’s like a perfect human being. But you of course weren’t the only one with a crush on that angle-like boy. All the girls in the school were running behind him. He never accepted a confession though. It made you wonder..

Did he like someone else?

Whilst being completely lost in your thoughts, you couldn’t notice how you were staring at him..’

‘____-sshi’ A deep voice ringed in your ear but you were too far in your imagination to actually progress what has been said to you

‘____-ah are you staring?’ The same voice only a little louder. As you finally were done thinking you turned around quickly in embarrassment, thinking to yourself ‘Wow you screwed up ____, nice job’

And as on que, the bell rang. Your school had this annoying bell that would you keep repeating itself in your head. You grabbed your bag not-so-smoothly and walked in a fast pace out of the classroom. You were so disappointed in yourself. ‘You made it so obvious, you stupid punk’ you mumbled to yourself

 

🎶Nega nal johahaneunge imi ne eolgure sseuyeoisseo🎶

🎶It’s written all over your face that you like me🎶

 To Chan Yeol this wasn’t anything new. He noticed you staring at him in all the classes you had together. He noticed the way you frowned when he talked to other girls. He knew you liked him, he knew everything. He could see the changes in your behavior since 5th grade, but it really started to show this year. And he liked you back, a lot.

Lunch is one of your favorite and least favorite time of the day. You liked it because you can do everything you want in the 30 minutes. But the negative thing was that you had to witness girl literally throwing themselves at Chan Yeol. And you’re not over-exaggerating. yesterday freshman just ‘fell’ in front of him. Like…uhm you could definitely see that she did that on purpose.  

As you closed you locker you felt some kind of presence next to you, and of course it had to be him. If you hadn’t embarrassed yourself enough already in class, you definitely were going to embarrass yourself right now.

‘Hey  __ -‘ Before Chanyeol was able to finish his sentence you swiftly turned around on your heel before speed-walking away. Leaving him there dumbfounded.

‘Why is she hiding when her feelings for me are written all over her face….AISH.’ He shouted frustrated whilst hitting the closest locker next to him.   

‘Yep you indeed embarrassed yourself even more’ you mumbled walking into the washroom. ‘why am I like this?’ You were honestly getting very frustrated with your behavior. ‘If he didn’t saw I liked him already, he’s definitely gonna know now.’ ‘It’s written all over my face’ You whispered annoyed at the mirror whilst splashing water against it.

 

🎶Ei nareul boda wae nuneul dollyeo
Da aneunde ei ei
🎶

🎶Hey why do you look away
I know everything
🎶

You’ve been avoiding eye contact with Chanyeol as much as possible. He found it rather frustrating to be honest. Every time he tried to find some sort of convocation with you, you’d walk away. Was it that hard for you to tell him your feelings? It’s not like he doesn’t know what’s going on at all. He knows you like him. You knows that he likes you. This could be something solved so easily. And if you weren’t planning on making a move.

He had to.

 

🎶Modu ara iri wa bwa
Deo isang nal pihaji malgo
🎶

🎶I know everything come over here
Don’t avoid me anymore
🎶

After a week of ignoring him, he couldn’t take it anymore. Remember when someone says; ‘you don’t know how much you need it until it’s gone? That was what he was feeling right now. He needs you. And he’s not planning on letting you go that easy

You on the other hand were a mess. After the talked to you, you went home and looked some stuff up. The results weren’t very pleasing. They were more depressing to be fair. A 13 page long story about how you person you like is probably never going to like you back. It made you lose a lot of hope.

But no matter how many of those things you read. He wouldn’t go out of your head. His dorky smile, his adorable elf ears. And his height. He was like a cartoon character. But knowing being the mess that you are at the moment with a bucket of chocolate ice cream ain’t gonna help.

As you were preparing for bed you heard a ticking noise coming from the window. When you walked closer you saw it were rocks. At first you were really annoyed and wanted to scream at the idiot who would throw rocks at your window. But when you opened the window your ears were filled with this beautiful but oh so familiar voice.

‘Let’s make our first day today
I want to hold your hand and walk around
We’re wasting time what do you want to do
Until when are you going to run from me, huh?

Hey I already know everything so why are you hiding
It’s written all over your face that you like me’

Hey why do you look away
I know everything’

You were so shocked with the lyrics you almost fell out of the window but luckily didn’t. After the song ended Chanyeol grabbed a pair of big white paper. With a sentence written on each, in English.

‘Dear ___’

‘Did you like the song?’ You nodded furiously with pink cheeks

Do you understand my intentions?’ Slowly but surely you figured everything out. Chanyeol actually like you too?! You pieced it together, so you nodded again

So will you be my girlfriend?’ Unable to contain your excitement you squealed and ran downstairs and our of the door, only to be greeted be a happy chanyeol holding his arms open for you to jump in, and you did.

Don’t avoid me okay? I know everything.’ You smiled at his remark and nuzzled your face in his neck.


Cyan

anonymous asked:

How did you find SXL and what advice do you have for people starting out writing comics/that sort of thing?

I sort of stumbled across it just looking at stuff for Pokemon groups on DA. It looked really interesting, so I decided to join. You can find lots of groups like that on DeviantArt. In fact, they have a whole section where you can search for them at the top (the little drop down arrow next to the logo).

The group ended this spring break, however, and they don’t have plans for a reboot of any sort, I’m afraid. You can join other OCTs (original character tournaments) from DA though, for a similar experience.

As for advice on comics….

Start out with making character sheets. You can use templates that you find online for free, or make your own. You want to have basic information such as;

Name:
Age:
Sex:
Gender:
Height:

Personality:
Bio:
Misc:

And so on and so forth. This will give you a basic idea of the character’s structure. I try to leave sexuality off, because I never really know what my characters are into until I get into a situation with them where I wind up finding out. It’s always awkward.

Also, draw your character from the front, ¾ths view, and the back. Get a turn around look of them with clothes on and clothes off so you know what they look like and have something to reference for later pages.

Draw your characters’ expressions! I can’t emphasize this enough. This is an important thing to do in order to maintain consistency in style throughout your pages.

Make a color palette for your character. You don’t want to have to guesstimate every time you go to color in your character. Make a palette for them on a separate doc or in the palette option in the sidebar of whatever program you’re using.

Now that we’ve got the basics for your actual characters down, let’s talk about the actual comicking part.

Script out every page. This is important so you not only know what actions your characters are going to do, but also so you know things like camera angle and, of course, their dialogue.

Here’s what my scripts look like, but yours can be different.

P19:Carol: [camera centered] *muttering* Oh, right.

P20:Carol: [camera remains centered] *standing* Well, if you need me, I’ll be in the basement trying to come up with things to put into my will.

P21:Sylv: *looking up at Carol with concern* Carol….

P22:Carol: [headshot] *over his shoulder and down at Sylv* Look, we both know I’m dead, just leave it alone, okay? And leave me alone!

P23:Carol: [camera at collar level, showing Sylv behind him] *walking away* Frickin’ jerkass keeping things like that from me.

Like I said, you can change this up however you want, but it’s an important step and not one you should think you can get away with missing.

Make a timeline of events and leave wiggle room in case you need to make changes. This is important so you know the basic flow of what your story will be about.

Here’s what one of my timelines look like.

The dark line is the overlaying plot. Along that line, I usually write out a summary of the plot. In the bubbles, I write how I want the comic to open and close. In the little, colored ones, I write certain subplots in. It’s the same concept with the dark line, however, I also write in how it helps the plot along the line. The bubbles show where I want it to start (I usually scribble in what event the subplot starts after and what causes it to take place in the first place).

This is a very helpful technique, I think. I know there are lots of other ways to make timelines, but out of all the ones I’ve tried, I like this method the best.

Watch movies and short films and pay attention to camera angles. I can’t tell you how much doing this has helped me with my comics. The basic concept of successful camera angles lies in The Rule of Thirds.

The Rule of Thirds divides the image up into a grid. Each of the cross hairs in the grid above indicates the “sweet spot” (if you will) of the image. It’s along these cross hairs that you want to position the focus of the camera.

See how the bottle looks all fancy? Yeah. This image shows a successful display of the usage of The Rule of Thirds.

Now that’s just a small bit of camera angles. I’m also talking about wide shots, low angles, high angles, and close ups.

Wide shots are generally used to put the entire scene on display.

Close ups usually only show one character in detail, and center the focus on said character.

High angle shots make the characters look small and maybe weak or scared.

Low shots can be used to make a character or object look very large and often give it the appearance of having power.

The next thing I’m going to talk about is color. Since we don’t have the benefits of a musical soundtrack or a heavy description as are used in film and literature respectively, we need to rely on color to depict the mood of the page.

Red indicates violence or passion. Deeper reds or pinks usually indicate passion, while orange or fiery reds indicate violence.

Blue indicates calm or sadness. Darker blues generally lean towards a sadder mood, whereas lighter blues indicate calmness.

Yellow indicates happiness.

Green indicates tension.

This is a very important part of comicking, and it will help you a lot to utilize right off the bat when you first start your comic.

If you plan on doing a black and white comic; use lines and contrast to give your pages the right mood effects. I would recommend looking at the Attack on Titan manga for an idea of how this would be used.

Try to update consistently. This is not only so you’ll keep your readers interested, but so you’ll also become better at working with deadlines, which is a skill you will need when you go to college and get a job. Yes, things will get in the way. Life happens. But if something does get in the way, make sure you let your readers know, especially if you’ve been very consistent with your comic with weekly updates or so on.

Promo yourself! There are plenty of comic websites and groups on DeviantArt you can join to get views. It might also help to post links to your pages on tumblr like I do every time a new one comes out.

Read comics! We tend to learn more by example, so read a lot of comics, ranging from manga to Marvel, and try to pick out the techniques they use that make their comics effective.

Do your research! Take a figure drawing class, do some studies of objects that you see every day. Look up information about time periods or how machines work or whatever it is you need for your comic. Remember, you’re still technically a writer, and when you’re a writer, you’re a lot of other things as well (like a dentist, a mortician, an astronomer, etc.)

Last but not least! Remember, you’re just starting a comic. You’re going to get better as your comic moves forward. I know for a fact that my comic looked TERRIBLE when I first started out, and that’s okay. I was happy with it at the time that I made it, and that’s all that matters.

Comics are a great way to improve your style, as they force you to draw certain things over and over again. I seem to be improving with every page. It’s always fun to look back and see how you started.

Remember, comics are a lot of work and can cause some stress. Just do your best, and I’m sure your comic will look great!

I hope this helped!

Candlelight (2/2)

Part 1

Pairing: danisnotonfire x reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3618 (inc part 1)

Prompt (owenslilecho): Hey! Can you write a fic where you’re Phil’s friend and Phil introduces you to one of his friends (Dan) and Dan obviously checks you out? :D
__________________________________

“It’s great to meet you too Dan.” You reply with a smile.

He releases your hand from his gentle grip and you quickly tuck your hair behind your ear. You felt weirdly fluttery. You tuck your bag down in between yourself and Chris, but are sure to grab your phone out and rest it on your lap, just in case.

“I ordered you white wine. Phil mentioned you like it.” He says, his eyes diverting to the glass between you.

“I mentioned that months ago Dan, good memory!” Says Phil, sliding in next to Chris, opposite PJ.

“Nice one Daniel!” says Chris, winking at him and grinning cheekily. Dan smiles at him but shakes his head slightly, looking a little embarrassed.

“That’s perfect, thank you.” You pick up your glass and smile up at him, being sure to ignore Chris. Dan reaches for his own glass of white wine and raises towards you, smiling back.

“Cheers.” He says to you. “Here’s to a good night.” You clink your glass to his and he then says “Cheers everyone!” Turning his head to face his four friends.

You take this time to run your eyes over him , over what you could see above table level. He was wearing a monochrome shirt, with details of printed lace and skulls. The collar was done up at his throat and he had neatly rolled the sleeves to just before his elbows. The shirt fitted him well, and his tanned skin was glowing. You study his face as he looks across at Chris and take in his features. Wow was he good looking. Dan had beautiful brown eyes sheltered by long dark lashes. His nose perfectly proportioned and his cheekbones were high on his face, nestled below was the cutest dimple which made his smile both sexy and adorable. And his lips…. You feel yourself blush slightly. You’d almost forgotten the rest of people at the table when…

“Cheeeeeeers!” Yells Chris, raising his glass high. “Well done to Dan and Phil on a cracking tour! Still a little bitter you didn’t make it the amazing crabstickz tour is not on fire but I’ll get over it.”

“It could have been kick the amazing crabstickz tour is not on fire couldn’t it?” Teased PJ, also picking up his glass. Sophie too, and Phil holds his up with a laugh.

“Next time guys. We’ll get you all in the title.” He says. “Cheers everybody!”

“Thank you all so much for being here.” Says Dan.

A small tune flutters around the table as glasses touch together and you each take a sip of your drink. The wine was dry but sweet, and you loved the taste.

“Do you like it?” Dan asks you, he was watching you calmly, his eyes still glowing.

“Mmm”, you answer, allowing the liquid to glide down your throat. “Maybe you’ll have to order food for me too?” Dan’s lip curls at the edge, obviously proud of himself.

“I recommend the fajitas Y/N.” Sophie jumps in, setting her glass down and leaning over the table slightly to be heard over Chris and PJ who were now inexplicably making robot noises. “I don’t know what the chicken is glazed in but you’ll never taste anything better I promise you.”

“The fajitas? Sounds good to me.” You smile, opening the menu in front of you. “They do good desserts here right?”

“Yes!” Phil suddenly shouts, his head appears from the side of Chris and he grins at you. “I’m glad someone else looks at desserts before mains, see Dan it’s just not me!”

“Must just be another one of those northern things.” Dan says lightly without looking up from his menu. His fingers are twirling a fork and his eyes drift around the cream pages, studying the words. You find yourself watching his hands for a few seconds, until the fork stops. You look up at his face, to see he is staring right at you, the corner of his mouth curling slightly again.

“Um…” You mutter, quickly tucking your hair behind your ear again. You could feel yourself going red, which was weird because one, you don’t get nervous around guys and two, you had no idea why you were even staring at him. But you couldn’t help it.

Right then, the waiter appears, graciously preventing the on coming awkward silence.

“Monsieurs, mesdemoiselles, you are ready to order?” He asks politely, taking a pencil from behind his ear and touching the point against the white paper.

He takes each of your orders in turn, as it happens, four of you go with Sophie’s fajita recommendation, including Dan. Chris and Sophie order another drink to arrive with their food and the waiter nods graciously as he scribbles everything down. He then leans over and relights the candle PJ accidentally blew out after pretending to ninja chop Phil’s hand a few minutes ago.

“Merci beaucoup. Your food shall not be long.” He says in his soft french accent, before gathering up your menu’s. Just as you pick yours up to pass to him, you catch the edge of your spoon and it flicks over towards Dan, catching his fingers.

“Woah!” He laughs.

“Oh God I’m sorry!!” You exclaim, hurriedly passing your menu over the table to Phil, who kindly took it from you before you injured everyone else.

“Don’t worry about it. It could have been the knife.” He grins at you, placing your spoon back neatly where it belongs. You give him a shy smile back. His smile was perfect.

“Honestly guys, a spooning invitation already?” teases Chris next to you, nudging you slightly with his elbow. You feel yourself flush pink and glance nervously at Dan. Honestly, where had this shyness come from? This wasn’t you!

“Shut up Chris you’ll embarrass her.” Replies Dan, smiling but adding a slightly harsh tone to his voice. He folds his arms on the table and leans ever so slightly towards you.

“So tell me about yourself. If we’re roomies for the next few days I’ll need to know if you have any sociopathic tendancies.” He winks, grinning again. Goddamn.

“Um.. what do you want to know?” You ask, copying his body language by also folding your arms on the table and leaning slightly towards him, tilting your head a little as you ask. Dan’s eyes wander to your lips and then back up to your eyes.

“Everything.”

The following few hours were filled with great food and even greater conversation. You told Dan all about your childhood with Phil and your future dreams. He asked you about the music you listened to, his eyes lighting up when you mentioned you liked the new Kanye West song. You spoke about films, TV, fashion, animals, science, places you were desperate to travel and places you had already been. Your nerves wore away with every one of his smiles. Suddenly you felt a buzz against your thigh. Your phone. You tuck your hair behind your ear as Dan reaches for the wine bottle you’d decided to order with dinner and glance down at your phone.

1 New Message 20:47
Phil Lester

You flick your head up and to the right, frowning in curiosity at your blue-eyes friend who quickly nodded towards your lap. You tap your phone under the table and your fingers brush the passcode, lighting the message up on screen.

Phil Lester 20:47
I told you you’d like him!

You smile and tap out your reply.

Y/N Y/L/N 20:47
You were correct, 10 points to Phil

Phil Lester 20:48
He likes you too I can spidey sense it…

You feel yourself blush again and smile at Phil’s reply.

Y/N Y/L/N 20:48
I should hope so, otherwise sharing a flat this weekend will be a little awkward!

You lock your phone and rest it once again on your lap, before lifting your head back up to see Dan watching you, his glass in his hand resting against his lips. The candle between you flickered wildly.

“You have a cute smile.” He says almost absentmindedly. It takes you a little by surprise.

“Um..”

“Sorry. I didn’t.. well I did mean it but.. uh..” He lowered the glass back down to the table and followed it with his eyes, just then you felt Chris elbow you ever so slightly, and cough gently as if clearing his throat.

“Thank you.” You reply to him.

“Bonjour, are you finished with your meals?” You hear the waiter ask, breaking your gaze from Dan’s. A flurry of answers follow in agreement and the waiter begins to gather your plates.

“Who’s ready to hit da clubs?” Says PJ, raising his hands and pointing finger guns at Phil, Chris, and then at you, winking as he does so.

“Clubs?!” Phil squeaks. “I thought it was a bar we were going to!”

“We are Phil, PJ’s joking. Although has Y/N seen your club moves?” Replies Dan, reaching down into his back pocket for his wallet.

“I don’t think so, she’s a way better dancer than me but I guess I could teach you all a few moves.” Phil says, also reaching for his wallet.

“I can’t wait for that!” You smile at him, giggling at the idea of Phil dancing to club music. The waiter returns with a small white piece of paper, handing it directly to Dan.

“Monsieur.”

“Merci.” Dan turns it over to look at the total, and you watch him admirably. Your stomach fluttering a little when you take in his features once more. He nods at Phil before putting the bill into his wallet, and pulling a bunch of notes back out, handing them directly back to the waiter.

“Woah, are you paying for the whole meal?” You ask him. You knew it had to be expensive. The wine he had chosen was almost £50 alone. Sophie glanced at PJ and then back at Dan.

“Yeah Dan let us all pay for what we had it’s fair that way.” She replies, poking at PJ to pull out his wallet.

“It’s my pleasure guys, I want to pay. When we get to the bar someone can buy me a drink and then it’s all fair.” He says to her, looking over at you and winking. Wow.

“Deal.” You reply. Resting your elbow on the table and smiling into your palm.

_____________

Luckily the taxi’s were parked in a line on the street just outside the restaurant. You were all stood outside waiting for Sophie to return from the bathroom and the temperature had dropped significantly. Your hands gripped at the buttons around your neck and you buried your mouth within the material of your coat. You were stood in between Dan and Phil, who were both trying to shield you from the wind.

“Thanks guys. I’m such an old lady when it comes to the cold.” You laugh.

“You’ll have to have all the spare blankets in the spare room then, it’s always freezing in there.”

“Phil!” Snaps Dan. “She’s a guest, you can’t shove her in the freezing spare room. Plus we totally forgot to move the boxes.” He turns to you, “You can have my bed this weekend, I don’t mind having the sofa.”

“What? No. No I’m not taking your bed, I’ll share the sofa with you if I have to… I mean… shit no, that sounded different in my head..” You blunder, pressing your fingers into your forehead with embarrassment. Why on earth did you say that?! How creepy did that sound?!? You hear Dan and Phil laugh, just as Sophie returns. Phil turns to her and you all begin to walk towards the taxi, with you and Dan hanging towards the back.

“We could just share the bed?” He says suddenly.

You stop dead on the path and look up at him. Your heart suddenly beating wildly fast. Did he mean that? Your eyes search his for any kind of emotion but they just blaze back at you, illuminated by the taxi lights.

“I’m kidding.” He grins wickedly, stretching out his hand and gently holding your upper arm in a way of apology. “Was that too much?”

“Um..”

“GUYS! GET IN I’M FREEZING MY TITS OFF!” Yells Chris from the front seat of the taxi.

“After you, Y/N.” Says Dan, gesturing with his palm in the direction of the black cab parked in front of you. You break your stare and walk towards the taxi, taking Sophie’s hand as you clamber into the back, careful not to tread on any toes. Dan climbs in after you and squishes himself beside you. Your heart still beating at his proposal but now even more so at your proximity. He slides the door shut after him and leans back against the seat, your arm and leg against his.

“Oasis bar please mate.” Says Chris, and the taxi pulls away.

Whilst your four other friends chat away, you notice Dan is beautifully silent, gazing out the window at the illuminated London nightlife. You look at his profile for a while, taking in his features once more and decide in that moment that you really, really like him. Feeling brave, and knowing from experience its best to act on feelings, you unclasp your left hand from your right and rest it on top of your leg, ever so slightly touching he edge of Dan’s fingers. You gaze away from him and look out the other window, unsure as to whether he could even tell of what you’d done, but just then, you feel the warmth of his little finger, resting on top of your own. You turn your head back and see him looking down at your fingers, before his eyes flick up at your own. He gives you the softest smile and you feel your stomach flutter. Maybe he liked you too.

You smile back and then your eyes fall to your lap, blushing slightly and biting the edge of your lower lip. You knew, if you ever returned to London after this weekend, the reason would no longer be just to see Phil. Because Dan gave you all the reasons in the world.

_____________________________

Unlikely I will continue this fic as I have a billion more to write, but I really hope you enjoyed it, thanks for all your kindness! X

#22 "Daddy"

Bambam: “Daddy.” You answer his obvious question. Honestly, you don’t know what this discussion was about.

“Of course they will calm me daddy, but what if they ask my real name?” He asks.

“Woompikook.” You reply simply. You don’t understand his point at all.

“But everyone else will be calling me Bambam.”

“Then Bambam.” You reply.

“I don’t want our kids to call me Bambam!” He places a worried hand on your baby bump.

“I said, they’ll call you daddy.”

“Still!” You looked in his eyes for a moment. His brows are furrowed, and his gaze strong, he is serious. This is ridiculous, you can’t help but crack up.

“Relax, love. It’s not like you can do anything about it.” You giggle, but it doesn’t make him laugh.

“I can do something about it.” He replies. You raise an eyebrow at him. How is he going to make the whole planet stop calling him Bambam?

“I can change my stage name.” He says, and you’re lost, gone into an hysterical laughing fit. Why did you have to find such a stupid husband?

“This one’s coming out in five months, if I change it now people will have time to get used to it.” His eyes are shining, he thinks a good idea. He bends and drops a kiss on your baby bump, ignoring your mocking laugh and hot up from the couch.

“Where are you going?” You ask him from where you were. “Calling my manager!” He replies. Oh shit, he’s actually going to do it. You have to stop him.

Jaebum: “Daddy?” Jaebum stuttered. He couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. His eyes were glued on your son who had just called him daddy. It was an innocent mistake, from an immature little baby, but it was picturing the emptiness that person left in his short life. Now he wants Jaebum to be his dad? You and Jaebum didn’t have that discussion yet, it’s way too soon.

“Oh, no baby. It’s not your daddy.” You cooed, stoking your son’s hair gently.

“Da-hee…” Teddy waved the pen he was holding in the air, taking a few shaky steps towards Jaebum.

“Teddy…” You sighed, covering your face with your eyes. What a nightmare. He was embarrassing you and Jaebum, but he couldn’t be blamed. Now you were forced to talk it out with Jaebum, but you could barely look at him.

“Da-hee!” You heard Ted squeal in delight.

“Yes, you can call me like that.” Jaebum said. What? You looked up at him, and he was patting Teddy’s curly hair affectionately. From his pocket, he proceeded his car keys and gave them to him. Letting his pen fall on the ground, Teddy took the keys and examined them. That would get him busy for about two minutes. Jaebum stood up and walked to you silently.

“Are you aware that that is a promise?” You asked him when he was at your level. Jaebum took your face in his hands and leaned towards you but you held him back.

“Yes, I am.” He murmured quietly.

“It would break his heart.”

“I know.” He whispered, his voice soft. Leaning again, his lips touched yours, and you melted into a tender kiss. Teddy needed a father, and you needed Jaebum, and even if you didn’t know what future had in store for you three, you knew Jaebum was the one, and you knew you and Teddy could trust him.  

Jackson: “ Daddy.“  Mia points her finger as she recognizes her father on the picture of her first birthday. We sit in the backyard with her on your lap as you flip through your family album.

"Yes, daddy.” You coo before turning the page. The next picture is a picture from Mia’s first time at Disneyland. She beams at the camera as you and Jackson stand by her side, mickey mouse ears on your heads and cotton candies in your hands.

“Mommy, daddy.” She points at your faces in turns.

“And Mia.” You point at her and she nods. These memories make my heart ache so hard.

“Now daddy is in the sky.” Mia says, flipping another page.

“What is he doing in the sky?” You ask her before kissing her chubby cheek. It’s the first time she broaches her father’s death on her own. You’re curious to hear how she handles it, she usually just listen to you using soft images to talk about how cancer tore her father away from her.

“He’s smiling.” She says.

“Why is he smiling?”

“Because I finished all my cereals.” She flips through the album again.

“Because you finished all your cereals?” You repeat. She knows he’s watching her.

“And because we can’t cry.” You don’t understand what she means. She’s only four and has her own way of seeing things, but you’ve told her it’s okay to cry.

“Daddy said we can cry a little bit but not forever. Because daddy is smiling.” You can’t hold back your tears as you hear her speak. Those are beautiful yet so sad words to hear from such a young child. Mia turns to you as you sniffle, she gasps in horror.

“Mommy, daddy said not to cry.” She scolds, dashing your tears away with her small hands. You try to control yourself, failing miserably. Mia turns to the album on your legs and flips trough it in a hurry, looking for something.

Curiosity makes you stop crying immediately. What is she doing? You lean over her shoulder and watch as she searches energetically.

“Daddy said to look at this when you cry.” She hands you a picture of her and her father, they’re both wearing your underwear above their closes, Jackson even has your panties on his head. You can’t help the smile that creeps on your face as I remember the moment when you caught them snooping in your underwear.

Jinyoung: Jinyoung’s favorite game to play with Lili is running after her, roaring like a lion. She would laugh hysterically, running away as fast as she could to save her 13 months long life. You would help her and hide her under your long skirts, and Jinyoung would pretend not to see her, then the game would turn into a peek-a-boo.

Once again, you watch as Jinyoung stands a few steps away from your daughter, already holding the hem of yout skirt to hide her.

“Raaaa!” Jinyoung roars, running towards Lili who stays still.

“Daddy!” She yells, taking both of you by surprise. Jinyoung freezes, his jaw dropping. Lili babbles something, probably lecturing her father about how it’s not nice to scare people.

“What?” Jinyoung asks her, incredulous. She doesn’t reply, glaring at him.

“Did you see that?” He asks you. Yes, she said daddy!

“Do it again.”

Jinyoung takes a few steps back and runs to her again.

“Daddy!” She scolds, never backing down. Your brave girl!

“Daddy mamamamama…” She babbles, and Jinyoung kneels in front of her.

“She said daddy!” He exclaims in a mix of delight and surprise. She said daddy!

Mark: Honestly, Superman is Back is the best thing that happened to you since Bryan’s birth. Ever since you started being on the show, you had two punctual days off for yourself, and you were carefree. Today you and Mark and Bryan were gathered in front of the TV to watch the first episode.  

Bryan was sat on his high chair, waiting for his dad to give him his meal. After struggling with the pan, Mark eventually dropped a plate of meat and vegetables in front if your son before sitting next to him. It’s crazy how Bryan’s cheeks look chubbier on TV.

“Daddy.” Bryan called as his father sat down. “What that?” He pointed at the meat.

“Meat.” Mark replied, articulating.

“Meet?” Bryan repeated, and Mark nodded appreciatively.

“Wanna try meat?” Mark asked, picking up a fork. Bryan shook his head no.

“This.” He pointed at the bottle of beer at the end of the table. You address a scolding glare at your husband who pretends not to see and focuses on the TV. You told him so many times not to drink in front of Bryan.

“No that’s for daddy.” Mark brushed it off, ignoring Bryan’s whining cry.

“Open.” He ordered, holding the fork in front of his closed mouth. Bryan shook his round head vigorously, whining loudly.

“This! This!” He pointed desperately at the bottle.

“No, this is for adults.” Mark stayed firm. That’s more like it. In front of his father’s firmness, Bryan changed his strategy. First he ate the piece of meat. Then he stretched his short arms in front of him, grabbing the end of his high chair, he leaned in towards his dad, lifting his chin tentatively.

“Dada~” He called, his voice soft, making his intention clear to you. He was obviously trying to corrupt his father with his cuteness. Bryan is a master in the discipline, and he’s not even two. You grew used to his tricks and now you manage to stay firm. Thing is, Mark is a fool for his son, and you weren’t here.

“What?” Mark laughed loudly, his eyes almost forming hearts.

“What do you want, baby?” Could this man be even more stupid?

“This.” Mark laughed even louder, enjoying the moment, savouring his son’s cuteness.

“Just once.” He said to him, unable to hide his excitement. You glare at Mark, but he ignores you. He has a large guilty smile he tries to hide. “Did you give beer to my son?” You ask him. He brings his finger up to his lips. He’s so dead. You loo back at the TV.

Mark let Bryan take a small sip and watched his reaction. Bryan made a funny grimace and stuck his tongue out, making Mark laugh loudly.

“Ew?” Mark asked his son. Bryan wiped his tongue on his hand.

“Told you it was for adults.” He said, and Bryan babbled in response. That was some quality time with daddy, but you’ll still have to box his ears to blood.

“Your mom will kill me if she sees this.” Mark said to himself before the show moved to Jaebum’s twins.


Youngjae:

“Daddy.” Your fourteen months old son called from the ground where he was lying down, playing with a magazine. When his eyes looked over, Jordan tapped his small hand on a page, looking from up close, Youngjae recognized a puppy Labrador.

“Puppy.” Youngjae said.

“Pee-pee.” Jordan happily followed.

“Pu-ppy.” Youngjae corrected him.

“Pa-ppy.” Youngjae nodded, he knew that was the best he could get.

“Daddy, pappy maamaana…” Jordan said, his small brows furrowed together.

“You want a puppy?” Jordan tapped on the picture again. Yes, he wanted a dog.

“I’m not sure to want a puppy right now. Maybe when you’re older.” Jordan frowned at his word. His face contorted, his lower lip went forward in a sad pout before he started wailing.

“Pappy! Pappy!” He hit the picture repeatedly, hit teats forming at the corner of his eyes. Youngjae gasped in surprise.

“Fine, okay! Okay! I’ll ask mommy.” He picked up his son , and his tantrum stopped immediately.

“Pappy.” Jordan repeated. Youngjae looked at his son, fascinated.

“You’re shorter than my thumb but you’re already controlling me.” He shook his head in disbelief. Jordan squealed in delight, clapping his hands.

“Pappy!”

Yugyeom: “Daddy!” Maya cries out, wriggling and squirming, struggling to get out of Yugyeom’s arms.

“Daddy is a little bit busy, baby girl, just one second.” Jaebum says to her, struggling with her twin’s diaper.

“Waaaaa daddy!” Angry tears rush down her chubby cheeks, she cries all of the sadness of the worse, kicking her feet against the poor boy. Yugyeom does his best to sooth her, but she hates him.

“Hyung, hurry up.” Yugyeom threatens to cry as well.

“Try to distract her.” Jaebum says to him. Distract her? With what. Yugyeom ruffles through his pockets and proceeds a bill.

“Look at that!” Yugyeom exclaims, catching her attention. Still crying, she examines the piece of paper. Fascinated, she stops screaming. “Mo-ney?” Yugyeom says. Maya takes the bill from his hands, examining it from up close. “Ma-nee?” She follows, intrigued. She sniffles once, and then she waves the bill in the air happily. Yugyeom turns to his hyung. “Hyung, you’re right. I don’t know a thing about babies, but I know how to treat a woman.”
A Beautiful Canvas.

Normally I needed something to get into my zone and begin creating. It would either be a nice hot cup of tea next to me or some loud alternative music blasting throughout the room to set the ambience but instead, right now I was met by silence. I did however have a gorgeous individual sitting in front of me to entice my eyes.

Normally I was clad in a t-shirt and my cotton panties, letting that little bit of clothing allow the cool air to seep through my skin as I stared at my canvas for hours, the hair on my arms standing up on end. Instead today I was wearing my work polo, the ‘American Tours’ logo noticeable above my left breast. I couldn’t really dress down into a tee and my undergarments when there was this stranger in front of me.

But was he really a stranger? Not necessarily anymore though he never really was. I always knew who Neymar Jr. was thanks to my brother who was a football enthusiast and I had gotten to know him personally over the last few hours after having to take him around Los Angeles and show him and his friends around the historical landmarks and the interesting parts of the city all tourists seemed to want to visit.

I thought my job, this tour, would go along as all the others would. I’d show them around the city for part of the day, return them to their hotel and we’d continue our journey in the morning the next day.

The first day had nearly went like that until we reached the point where Neymar and his friends were supposed to discard of me. Instead, he invited me to join them for a night out at one of LA’s most exclusive clubs. Even as a resident of the city, I had never been inside of those coveted walls. I had no sort of reputation to get into a club like that but he did and so when he invited me, I couldn’t deny the offer.

Too bad the night hadn’t went as I envisioned it.

I mean he did dance with me a few times, he and Gil, but it was never anything too flirty. That wasn’t the problem though.

The problem was the mass of notifications I woke up to from friends who had sent me links to the TMZ article with my picture plastered on the page, a picture of me and Neymar leaving the club. Of course it looked a bit suspect. I had my hands covering my face as Neymar confidently strode beside me. I guess the cameras had decided to ignore everyone else in the group that was at the club as well. The focus was solely on Neymar and I and it was painfully embarrassing. Just thinking about it made me cringe. Day 2 and I was already probably on his bad side.

“I’m sorry,” I randomly blurted out, stopping the paint brush in my hand from moving against the canvas that had begun to take form with the various lines I had created using the fresh, detailed colors of paint.

My eyes dragged from that page and past to Neymar who sat still in the chair in front of me, strictly following my directions not to move too much until now as he leaned to his left a bit to peer past the easel and towards me. “Why are you apologizing? Did you mess up the painting?” His eyes shone concern and confusion, his jaw flexing a bit and creating a bulge in the lower part of his cheek that made him look irresistibly sexy.

I made note to capture that with my brush but for now my eyes dragged down to my lap. I couldn’t stand to look into those eyes for too long. I already had as I tried to recreate those stunning features onto the empty canvas in front of me. I started with those flat, unarched eyebrows, being sure to draw the furrow of lines between his brows and those slits that interrupted the flow of his left brow but then I was left to move down to the eyes…

They were this brown color but not any bland old shade of brown but a brown enhanced by speckles of a honey shade, overtaken by a deep green lining the outer edges of color.

Part of me wished I had ordered him to turn to the side and allow me to paint him profile-side instead of facing forward so I could avoid becoming enchanted by those deep, sparkling orbs of his. They were magical.

I shook my head finally in response to his question. “No. No,” I reassured. “I just…the blogs and such. I don’t know if you read them but…”

“I don’t. What’s on there?” His eyes seemed to grow deeper, his mouth pouting with a slight slant which enhanced their shape. It drew my attention to his mustache and then to the scruff of his beard that poked through his caramel skin in this rough but delicate way. It was as if you knew behind that manly look, if he were to shave it all away he’d look like a teenage boy all over again.

“They’re claiming I’m your new girlfriend.”

His brows furrowed with confusion. “And you’re apologizing for that because…?”

Because, well, look at me! I’m in no way fit to be on the arm of Neymar da Silva Santos Júnior. That would be an insult to him that I was someone who could even be linked to him.

“I’m no person you want to be connected to.” I shook my head, beginning to restart where I was on this portrait. His nose…

Noses were always the hardest thing for me to paint when I was drawing humans. I don’t know why or how such a simplistic feature was so complex but it seemed as my brush glided across the canvas, it moved effortlessly to form a replication of the bridge of his.

Neymar’s amused chuckle echoed through the hotel room, nearly quiet aside from the conversation between us. “Why? Should I be worried? Are you some sort of criminal?”

I blushed at the accusation though I knew well enough I was no form of criminal. “I’d never be hired to take tourists around if I were. I’m just…I don’t know.” I stopped my thoughts while I was ahead. I wasn’t looking to embarrass myself or pity him into giving me compliments on how I wasn’t all that bad to be linked to. I could do without. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I giggled.

“What? Painting?”

“Yes. I don’t like people seeing my work or watching me as I do it.”

“Why?”

“Self-conscious maybe?”

I thought of my ex, an artist as well, who seemed to enjoy looking at my work only to gloat about how he could have done so much better or could have enhanced the portrait with this detail or that detail. I guess the put-downs and critiques were warranted. He was the one with his work now displayed in galleries across the United States while I was stuck working as a tour guide.

Welcome to the harsh reality of life. Being that arrogant, cocky asshole sometime paid off.

“Well I’m sure you can paint one hundred times better than me. You could draw a stick figure and I’d be amazed.” He broke out into a smile, those teeth shining behind those pink lips and I cursed myself for choosing to draw him mouth-closed.

Ah well, maybe next time.

I let silence overtake the hotel room again as I continued to move my brush against the paper, dabbing into various colors to bring life to the portrait and represent Neymar well. I moved to his hair, that ever-changing style but now he sported a mohawk with strands of his straight brown hair falling over his forehead.

I kept working along that way in silence. It was a minimalistic style portrait. I had really only captured half of his beauty because trying to detail it all would have taken hours but I was satisfied, the outline of the man on the canvas bearing quite the resemblance to the footballer sitting in front of me.

“Done,” I announced. I sat the used brush down carefully into one of the holders and stared at the work in front of me. I was nervous to see his reaction as Neymar quickly got up from his chair and walked over, turning his head when he arrived to my side so that he could see my work.

“Wow,” was all he uttered. It could have been one of those wow’s where he realized I had painted him to be some ugly creature but the gleam in his eyes and the smile that broke apart his lips said otherwise. “It’s amazing. You don’t mind if I take this, do you?”

“No. not at all. It’s yours.” I would have liked to keep it in memory of this moment but maybe I could somehow recreate it. Somehow recreate all of this…

“Mind if I take a stab at it?” He hinted with a motion to the paint brushes and I nodded my approval that he try. “I’ll rip a new sheet.”

“I don’t need the paper,” he quickly insisted and though my eyebrows netted with confusion, he simply bent down and picked up one of the brushes that set in water. Neymar next dabbed the tip lightly in the yellow paint before reaching for my arm, slowly raising it. I didn’t question it and I was thankful I didn’t because soon, the cool brush was slowly sliding against the underside of my arm.

In a weird way it felt as if he was directly touching me, the nerves in my body on edge as a slow tingle grew inside of me. He was delicately moving the brush along my skin and hell, I didn’t care if he was choosing to paint my entire arm in bright yellow paint. I would have stripped down so he could paint every inch of my skin if he so pleased to.

It was as if he could read my mind because he soon dropped the brush to its holder and trailed his fingers in a green color instead, the paint decorating his finger tips and dripping off his nails before he softly trailed them against my neck. I could feel the rise and fall of my chest like some sort of adrenaline was building up within me all because of his movements and the warmth growing within my body at his sensitive touch. I was wishing at that moment he didn’t have paint on his hands so he could touch me where my body longed to feel him, where he could satisfy my cravings all at once.

My breath caught in my throat as we made eye contact, a deep and long staring gaze. I was able to see those delightful orbs again but up close this time and closer than I ever could have imagined being. I didn’t shy away from the intensity this time and I enjoyed hearing his breath flow past his lips.

I had an urge to reach forward and crash those lips into mine and it seemed he had that same urge because within seconds, our noses collided and his lips were pressuring against mine. I gasped, opening my mouth just wide enough for him to slide his tongue inside and I wilted to his demands and met his passion with my own.

His hand rested under my chin while the other paint covered fingers slid under my shirt. I didn’t care about damaging my work polo. I just cared about him finally peeling it from my skin. He met my demands and soon separated our lips so he could pull the shirt over my head and soon followed every other piece of my clothing.

Neymar brought me up from my chair and made me stand while he got rid of his bottoms so he could meet the match of my bare skin. He took my seated position and pulled me into his lap slowly enough for me to slide down onto his member. I adjusted to his lengthy size slowly, biting down on my lip as I felt him fill my insides.

Between the heated kisses, the rise and fall of my body as I moved up and down his member, I watched as he decorated my skin with that damp green paint, dancing his fingers along my back when he wanted to cling to me and when I increased the intensity by drawing my walls tighter around his member.

He hissed with pleasure and my moans became their own soliloquy. My back arched further and further with every movement against him and I placed my hands on his broad shoulders, my eyes taking in the view of his athletic build and that deepened v-line he sported even as he sat hunched over in this seat.

He thrust up every time to meet me mid-stroke, only driving my senses wild and I could feel the sweat beads forming across my forehead. His hands moved along my front, giving my breasts a few gentle squeezes before he was too enticed to resist them. He lowered his mouth towards my nipple, making it so I couldn’t quite rise my body up as high as I was before but I continued to ride him and circle my hips in a rotation.

“Cum for me,” he whispered seductively in my ear and I whimpered with pleasure, unable to hold the satisfaction I was feeling for too much longer but I couldn’t let go just yet. I had to savor this moment. I had to take in all that I could.

My long nails danced along his skin as I enjoyed the warmth of his body, sweat building on him as between my eyes slamming shut when he filled me so beautifully, I snuck glances at the beautiful figure under me.

I was supposed to be the one showing him around, being his tour guide but he was taking me on a ride of his own. Eventually I succumbed to his wishes and I released all that had been building up within me. I let a few curses slip my lips and dug my nails deeper into his muscled back while I continued to work against him to make sure he reached his own peak and he soon followed behind.

I wanted to capture the beautiful sound of that low grunt leaving his mouth once he reached his climax so I could remember it forever. Instead I just collapsed onto his shoulder, my eyes closed until I opened them and noticed the black ink scrawled in cursive on his neck. It was a tattoo I hadn’t replicated in my drawing but was now under my crawling fingers.

“Tudo Passa? What does that mean?” I questioned in a breathy tone. I still hadn’t quite captured my breath from that physical labor.

“Nothing lasts.”

Like this moment but at least I’d have the paint on me to hold onto for a bit longer.

Are We There Yet? (Steve/Sam/Bucky x Reader) (Part 6)

Hey! After like one month of not updating this series, I’ve risen from the dead with another chapter. Yaaay! I hope you guys enjoy this part!! Also, if you didn’t know… I used to be currentlyavengerstrash, but I changed my url to mangosoldier. Still Jessie tho! 

Based on this post and this post for this chapter. 

AWTY Masterlist

word count: 1412 (short i know)

warnings: none

Steve had managed to pull the two apart before security could be called over by the onlookers. You didn’t blame them while they frantically told their children to step away as two grown men viciously thrown themselves at each other. It was you who held Sam back and Steve who held Bucky back as the two audibly tossed a slur of curse words at each other. “Shut up and sit down,” you huffed at Sam as you pushed him onto a nearby bench. Steve did the same about fifty yards away with Bucky, handing him a cold bottle of water. You followed his movements, offering Sam water which he accepted cautiously, as if he was suddenly frightened of you.

Keep reading

Earning a living as an artist

First up, I’ll admit that I’m far from an authority on this topic. I can’t get work to save my life. However, I’ve been at this for so long, and I’ve been through the process enough times to know how it works, and I’d like to pass what I’ve learned off to other people in hopes of helping them.

This will likely be long, but I hope it helps at least someone.

Keep reading

Lasting Impressions

This ficlet is part of the Faith lives AU which starts with A Garden of Worries.

This ficlet is a direct continuation from Tough Decisions

My Fanfiction Master List

Available on AO3 as Faith Restored.

This Outlander canon divergence AU ficlet alludes to information/events that appear in Dragonfly in Amber.

Warning: Normally, I don’t post this fic in such large pieces but this is a particular portion that I don’t want to draw out to another week. It was very hard to write and even knowing how it will play out and that it will be worth it down the road, I questioned my decision to do this. So consider yourselves warned. (And I’m sorry in advance; between last week and this week, I’m so, so sorry)

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I feel like a lot of these Ikkaku roleplayers are getting too OOC, I mean, he's a meat head, and that's pretty much it - dumb, loud, violent, slob. Let's not look too far into things. Is there a reason why people are so into him? I wish I could see it, but I don't. Help?

Alright, since you’ve invited me to, allow me to tell you a thing.

Ikkaku able to cry, Ikkaku as ace/demi, Ikkaku showing a ‘soft’ side, Ikkaku being less than the complete asshole that people like to see on the surface… Why do I think all that can be written/roleplayed easily without making it OOC?

Pack some clean socks - you’re in for the long run, so I can hook and drown you on one of my favorite sweeties.

So, to prove to you that this dork isn’t a flat or shallow character, let’s just hear a complete rundown of my Ikkaku headcanons, backed up with canon examples and pictures. Yes, because I am just that obsessive. I even had to update this post because this little shit keeps developing more and more.

Yes, Ikkaku is a rough-and-tough fighter who eats nails for breakfast without any milk. Lean, mean, fighting machine, yada yada, but he’s not heartless. He’s got layers, okay?

On the surface, Ikkaku does put up a tough guy veneer, but it’s plain to anyone with a brain stem that he’s sensitive and still has his doubts about himself. I mean, although it’s subtle most of the time, it’s definitely not subtle if you hit him in his sore spot, because then he’ll stoop to fighting with children. Exhibit A: 

(Read all panels right to left. It’s manga, so I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but…)

Keep reading