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“Tadashi! Are you almost ready?!  We’re going to be late, if you don’t hurry up!” you call out as you hurry up the stairs to his room. “(Name)?!” he calls back.  “Wait!  Don’t come up here!” But it’s too late.  You’ve already bounded passed Hiro’s side of the room and over to Tadashi’s side.  You stop and take him in.  He’s only wearing a t-shirt and a pair of boxers.  You can’t help but grin in amusement.  Crossing your arms, you lean against the corner of the wall, “Pokémon boxers, huh?” The bl

Warning! There is depression in this. If you're not okay with that then please don't read. Thank you. (f/n) – First Name     Three years. It's been three years since my brother was taken from me. My twin. My other half. I've always tried to be strong for Fred. For mom and the others. For (f/n).     But how can you be strong when your entire world has been ripped away from you? How can you go on when the only person who understood is dead. Gone. Without me.     I know I should keep my head up and all that bull but I can't. I was never the strong one. I was never the smart one or the clever one. It was always Fred. He was the brain

"Come on then, love, sing for me," Arthur told you, taking a seat at the piano that was left out after play practice. The Brit always walked you home, for he was ever your gentleman, and that meant on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, he waited for you to finish with play practice. You knew it put him behind, and you told him you could walk with one of the others girls in the play, but he always insisted. Ever since eighth grade, when your parents passed away in a car accident, Arthur had been at your side, your only savior in a world that seemed so dark and bleak. So, last year, when he started dating one of the other thespian girls, you thou

“Alfred F. Jones: funny, charming, sweet, heroic, bubbly, serious, seductive, and cute all at the same time. He was my hero, and I don't think anyone – or anything – could have changed that    About two months ago, my hero told me that when it's his time to leave the face of this very planet, he wanted me to remember and continue to be the three ‘C’s: cool, calm, and collected. I just really hope I'm doing him justice. *    “I remember it being a Monday morning, and I had just gotten out of bed, only to see my proud American boyfriend standing in our kitchen, making us breakfast as usual. When he notic

You sighed heavily as you fanned yourself. Honestly, why God decided to make California hotter than Hell, you would never understand; how you wished for something cold to cool you down. As you thought of potential things put on your forehead and the true worth of getting up to go dump water down your back, the A/C decided to die. Suddenly you were goo in the middle of your bed, the heat from your computer not helping your situation, no matter how amazing and adorable those cat videos were. Groaning at the heat, you rolled over to grab your phone and texted Alfred to bring you something cold. There was officially no way you were moving now,

It was funny, really, how much significance this little watch had. Everyone had one—everyone was born with one. They came in a variety of shapes and colours and patterns; no two watches were the same. Specific to each person’s interests and tastes, you could see what kind of a person someone was simply by glancing at the little timekeeping device wrapped around their wrist. Bright colours and smiley faces were obviously the mark of a cheerful person, while darker colours and more obscure patterns depicted a person with a bit more mystery to them. It really all depended. And there were legends that surrounded these watches, oh y

The Song of May | France x Reader | Theme #20: Candy Theme suggested by alpha-hvad. Thanks, love! Against all odds, your restaurant has been thriving here on the busy streets of Paris. When you’d first started this business, it was a tiny little bakery (Angedoré Sweets) and you were a young girl who’d just moved to France, chasing some wild dream in hopes it could actually come true—you wanted to somehow become a successful pastry chef in Paris, no less. But your mother encouraged you to follow these fantasies of yours with your fiery sense of determination after you graduated from culinary school with flying colors.

Your locker slammed shut as you walked to the cafeteria to eat "food". Quotation marks because to call that stuff real food would be scandalous. And we'd hate to cause scandal. Adjusting the scarf around your neck and pulling the black miniskirt down a bit more onto the underlying leggings, you joined the line stretching from the food-obtaining station to the door. You sighed. This was going to take a bit. In order to occupy yourself, you looked over the guy standing in front of you. You had seen him around the hallways, but never gotten a good look at him. He was fairly well built, with golden blond hair and an odd cowlick that seemed to n