Mission Bad Boy - 9

Plot: What if you could win 100,000 Won by giving someone a makeover? But here’s the catch – you have 6 months to turn a nerdy, anti-social male into the school’s biggest heartthrob.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Angst, Highschool au!

Warnings: softcore smut(?), once again - self loathing, scalding tea

Notes: lol. I must really hate every character here. GIF CREDIT GOES TO THE ACTUAL OWNER. 4.2 k Words

previous | masterlist | next

You had no idea what had happened after you had fled from the party, but when you had gone back to school the next week, you had witnessed something you never believed would happen. 

While you stood near the entrance of the classroom, you had gotten a spectacular view of a familiar girl sitting in your place, a shy smile playing on her mouth whilst she received a kiss on her cheek from your desk mate.

“You’re so cute,” You heard his quiet hum, making your fists clench as you bit your lip.

Keep reading

tongue tied

Originally posted by ksjknj

19 “can I hold your hand?” and 37 “can I kiss you? + namjoon + harry potter au

part of a request from anon for the 100 ways to say ily drabble game!

➾ Summary: Namjoon is down with a very unique curse, but it turns out to be a blessing in disguise. 

➾ word count: 2.6k, fluff

“_____, it’s Namjoon, again.” Jimin’s frantic voice lights up your fireplace, and you stop in the middle of your essay, quill poised in the air. You really, really have to finish this last sentence before getting distracted, but the growing heat of the flames emanating from the fireplace draws your attention insistently.

“I swear, what is it this time?” You turn to face the brief outline of Jimin’s face in the flames, and even though it’s blurry due to each and every leap of the embers, concern is etched deeply into the Hufflepuff’s features.

“There’s no time, we’re in Potions now! Hurry, please!!!” The flames die down before you have a chance to protest, to ask if this is really a life or death issue. Instead you heave a sigh and gather your blue robe around your shoulders, already having an inkling of the disaster that lay ahead. Namjoon and Potions is not a good combination, you’d learned over the past 4 years. He may be the brightest wizard of his age, excelling in topics like Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, but throw him an intensive hands on subject like Potions and Kim Namjoon is equivalent to a troll in a china shop.

In fact, he’s so bad at Potions that he got held back a year, so he’s the only fifth year student taking Potions at fourth year level. As you start to near the dungeons where the Potions classrooms are, you hear a boisterous voice vehemently protest against a chorus of accusations, and you already know even before entering that Jeon Jeongguk has a part to play in this mess. Bracing yourself for the ordeal ahead, you fling open the heavy wooden doors and immediately duck for cover. 

Keep reading

NurseyDex Week 2017 - Day 1 - Get Together

I’ve decided to do NurseyDex week this year! Let’s see how many of these I actually get to. (PS - I’ll probably end up posting these all to AO3 as a series at the end of the week so I have a chance to clean them up a bit, but for now, enjoy this un-betaed fluff I wrote in ~ 4 hours) Prompt found here. Find the rest of my nurseydex week stuff here!

Finals are always an interesting time around the Haus; with Chowder and Dex yelling between their rooms about why their code wouldn’t run, Nursey discussing philosophy and literature with anyone who sat still enough to listen, and Bitty stress baking every flavor of pie he can think up, you were hard pressed to find anyone who was functioning on all cylinders.

Dex had spent more time this past week in the library than in his bed, and it was starting to take its toll on him. He was basically asleep on his feet when he walked into the Haus one night, moving into the kitchen on autopilot to seek out any leftovers or pie that might be waiting there. Even the crappiest day could be made better by the promise of Bitty’s cooking. Nurse sat at the kitchen table, leaning heavily on his arm and flipping frantically through one of his texts, marking the relevant pages as he went.

“Hey, Poindexter? Back from the library?” he asked, barely looking up to register who was walking through the door.

Keep reading

Omnia Dicta Fortiora Si Dicta Latina

A soulmate au, where you get a sentence in black somewhere on your body on your 18th birthday, and at at the moment you realize you love them, your soulmate will say the sentence, and it will tingle and turn silver.

And of course Bellarke has the weirdest sentences.

Because Lana’s (@marauders-groupie) fics make me cry and I just wanted a soulmate au that didn’t rip my heart out.

Clarke was not looking forward to her 18th birthday.

Listen, soulmates were great and all, but she didn’t enjoy her life getting controlled by an arbitrary sentence tattooed on her body. It was actually kind of creepy, come to think of it.

“You excited?” Wells’ voice came over the phone. Wells was into soulmates. His tattoo had come in the form of neat words on his collarbone, the creating the sentence “I can make anything explode if I try hard enough.”

So obviously Wells’ soulmate seems awesome. They had to be, to deserve him.

She sighed into the phone. “Not really. I’m really just hoping it’s in an inconspicuous place. I don’t feel particularly inclined to waking up with a bad pickup line tattooed on my forehead.“

Clarke doesn’t trust soulmates, to tell the truth.

Her father didn’t have one. Her parents got divorced when Abby found Marcus Kane.

Soulmates weren’t worth the pain. She knew they were no guarantee.

Clarke wakes up in the morning to find her eyes drawn to her wrist.

There it was, in bold black script on the inside of her wrist.

“Quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur.”

“Is that…” Wells squints at her wrist. “Latin?”

Clarke shrugs. “I guess. I did a quick google search but it wasn’t particularly helpful. Did you know google translate is terrible?”

Wells just rolls his eyes at her.

Clarke’s in her first year at Columbia when she hears it used. She’s figured out that it means “everything said is stronger if said in Latin” which is not helpful at all.

Her dorm mate her first year is a girl named Octavia Blake, who Clarke finds is actually pretty cool. She’s gorgeous and intimidating and Clarke would totally be into her, if Octavia wasn’t in a committed relationship–with her soulmate.

“He’s so sweet, pretty damn hot, and 4 years older than us, so he’s also pissing my brother off.” Octavia confides. “He’s the best.”

After meeting Lincoln, she has to admit she’s pretty right. Lincoln is huge and buff, but also is basically like a giant ball of fluff, so he fits perfectly with tiny-but-angry Octavia.

One night Clarke was on a tirade about one of her professors, who was “a racist bigot who needs to get his head out of his ass.”

“And he uses the most pretentious language, like he quoted some thing in Latin yesterday, just because her could. It had practically no relevance whatsoever to the topic.” Clarke rolled her eyes.

Octavia nodded. “Yeah, I know the type. Quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur, right?”

Clarke blinked.

There it was, spoken aloud, and yet there was no sting, no tingle that signified her tattoo was changing color.

She lifted her sleeve to check, and the words were still there, stark black against her skin.

“Something wrong?” Octavia asked.

Wordlessly, she showed Octavia the words on her wrist.

“Damn. Your soulmate is a fucking nerd.” Octavia laughed.

Clarke laughed too. “Okay, but I still don’t know what that means.”

“It means, like, Latin makes everyone sound smarter. It’s a joke, for pretentious assholes who use Latin to make themselves sound smarter than they are.” Octavia explained.

“And you know this how?”

“Bell is a fucking nerd.” was Octavia’s only explanation.

Bell, Clarke had learned, meant Bellamy, Octavia’s older brother, who, okay, was defiantly a giant nerd. Of course he taught Octavia mocking Latin phrases.

He named his sister Octavia after the Emperor Augustus’ sister when he was 6, okay? Bellamy was on a whole other level of nerd.

Clarke’d met him one or twice, when he came to visit Octavia. But she didn’t really get to know him until senior year, when she moved into a small apartment with Octavia and Raven in a better part of town.

Bellamy had come to help them move in, and they’d managed to get into a screaming match that had begun with them discussing Harry Potter and led to him accusing her of being a spoiled rich girl. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure how they’d gotten to that.

Afterwards, Clarke had dismissed it as a one time thing. She’d see him a couple times and they’d avoid each other, and that would be that.

But she’d underestimated Bellamy’s level of big brother instincts. He was over at least twice a week, being helpful while pretending to not care about anything.

He slowly got used to her too, his sarcastic asides of “Princess” gradually becoming less biting and more like affectionate teasing.

Carefully, grudgingly, Clarke admitted that he was actually a pretty cool guy, despite his penchant for being an asshole.

Turns out Clarke likes assholes.

So, friends was a gradual thing.

However, Clarke could pinpoint the exact moment she realized they were best friends. (Barring Wells, of course.)

Clarke groaned as she flopped onto the couch.

“Long day princess?” Bellamy laughed.

“Shut up Blake.” Clarke muttered. “Just turn on the movie.”

As he opened Netflix, Clarke moved to position herself against his side. “Why are you so warm?” Clarke muttered.

Without missing a beat, Bellamy answered, “I’m filled with righteous anger.”

“Mmm, sounds about right.”

And soon, watching Disney Hercules on the couch with him, all her weariness melted away. That’s when she knew. He was her person. Her best friend. And to think, she’d hated him.

“Stop laughing at me.” Bellamy muttered.

“I’m sorry!” She giggled. “It’s just, I get you’re full of righteous anger but the goat does not deserve it.”

She loved watching mythological movies him.

Bellamy didn’t answer. Almost unconsciously, his hand floated to his collarbone.

“Bellamy?” She gave him a little shake. “Hey? Bellamy? Something wrong?”

He shook his head and gave her a small smile. “Look, this fucking goat did not train Hercules. I’m offended on behalf of Chiron.”

“Okay, Bellamy.” She laughed. “Whatever you say.”

She probably should have figured it out then, bur Clarke has never been the most observant of people about things like this.

It took her about 3 years.

It was Octavia’s birthday and she was drunk, because Octavia loved alcohol but had no tolerance, a very bad, though usually entertaining combination.

“Macdonaldus Senex fundum habuit. E-I-E-I-O.” she slurred, leaning up against Lincoln.

Clarke took the drink from her hand. “No more for you, I think.”

She walked over to Bellamy, handing him the drink.

He took it, frowning at it. “Don’t you want some?”

Clarke shrugged. “I already had some. I’m good.”

With Lincoln, Octavia had resumed her song. “Et in hot fundo nonnullas boves domesticas habuitt. E-I-E-O. Cum moo moo hic, et cum moo moo ibi. Hic una moo, ibi una moo, ubique una moo moo. acdonaldus Senex fundum habuit. E-I-E-I-O!”

Clarke nudged Bellamy. “What’s she singing?”

“Old Macdonald Had a Farm. In Latin.” Bellamy answered, deadpan.

Clarke giggled. “Okay, okay. When did you teach her that?”

Bellamy smirked. “I wanted her to know the cool nursery rhymes.”

Clarke laughed. “You’re such a fucking nerd, Bellamy.”

He shrugged. “Quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur.”

Before Clarke could even react, her forearm stung, and something warm and light flowed through her.

She had to keep herself from gasping aloud.

She grabbed at her sleeve, watching the words on her wrist change from jet black to a gleaming silver.

Disoriented, Clarke headed toward the door.

Faintly, she heard Bellamy calling behind her.

“Clarke, hey Clarke!” He grabbed her hand. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

She shook him off.


“I-It’s nothing Bellamy. I don’t feel well. Wish Octavia a happy birthday for me, hm?” She managed.

“Want me to come with?” He’s genuinely worried, which makes her feel even worse.

She offers him a small smile. “It’s Octavia’s birthday. I can take care of myself, it’s just a headache.”

“You sure?”

She nods. “I’ll be fine.”

It’s not until she gets home that she allows herself to look at it again. But there it was still, shimmering against her skin.

Bellamy. Of course it was Bellamy. It had always been Bellamy.

She collapsed on the couch. Bellamy Blake was her soulmate.

And she barely had time to take a breath before it hit her like a truck.

For all she made fun of soulmates, she realized with dawning horror, she loved Bellamy. She’s loved him for a while.

She picked up her phone, and dialed.

He picked up on the 3rd ring. “Hey Clarke. Something wrong?”

Almost against her will, Clarke smiled. “Hey Wells.” It was good, to hear his voice again.

“I just wanted to let you know, I found my soulmate.”

Clarke heard Wells gasp. “And? Who is it?”


“Bellamy Blake?” Wells asked, careful.

“Yeah.” She replied.

“What are you going to do?”

Clarke sighed. “I don’t know yet. Heck, I don’t even know if I’m his soulmate.”

Wells paused. “Look Clarke. It’s simple. If you think you’re ready, if you love him? Go find out if you’re his soulmate.”

Clarke took a breath. “O-okay. Thanks Wells.”

“You know I’m always here for you.”

“I know. Thank you.” Clarke swallowed.

“Talk to you later?” Wells asked.

“Of course. Bye, Wells.” She hung up, and sighed, flopping onto the couch again.

She stared at the ceiling, her mind racing.


And the more she thought about it, the less shocking it felt. It felt almost obvious. Yeah. Bellamy was her soulmate.

She sighed and got up, pausing at the mirror to make sure her makeup was intact before shrugging on her coat.

No harm in trying to look good.

A short taxi ride later, Clarke took in a breath, standing in front of Bellamy’s apartment.

She rang the doorbell, a wave of panic hitting her as she waited for it to open.

What if I’m not his soulmate?

And suddenly the door was open.

Bellamy was standing in the doorway, blinking at her, wearing pajama pants and a worn t-shirt.

“Clarke? Is something–” he began.

“Show me your soulmate mark.” She spit out, before she could loose her nerve.

Bellamy stared.

“Please.” Clarke whispered, pleading.

She needed to know. She couldn’t stand not knowing because that meant there was a what if still lingering.

Bellamy finally nods, opening the door wider.

“Come in.”

She steps inside, more confused and worried than before.

Bellamy’s eyes flick to her forearm, which she was instinctively covering with her hand.

He swallows, and tugs of his shirt, turning around so his back was facing her.

And there they were, at the small of his back, one sentence shining silver against his skin.

“I get you’re full of righteous anger but the goat does not deserve it.”

She drew in a sharp breath.

“Hercules.” She whispered, hope flooding through her.

Bellamy laughed, soft. “I spent so long wondering exactly what the scenario was that I was angry at a goat.”

Clarke shifted her hand, slowly pulling up her sleeve and revealing the words on her arm. “I didn’t even know what mine meant.”

Bellamy smiled and grabbed her arm, pulling it up to his face to kiss the words.

Clarke beamed up at him. “You’re such a fucking nerd Bellamy. My soulmate mark is in Latin.”

Bellamy laughed quietly. “Te amo.”

And look, Clarke didn’t know the first thing about Latin.

But from what she understood of those words, there was only one response she could give.

She pulled him closer, and kissed him.

okay so someone dear to me remembered I’d promised to do an excessive readmore post about what I stg I THOUGHT the ending of aa5 was going to be and honestly this cold is murdering me so I might as well

you’ve been warned this will get TL:DR as shit and is jam-packed with AA:DD spoilers not that you’d understand half of it without having played through the ending buT ANYWAY

lots of text and SPOILERS AHOY (but jsyk it doesn’t impact on the alt ending comic I’m working on because that uses a different line of thought, so… no spoilers for that-?)

Keep reading



This is the introductory line - maybe there’s a cool fact here, a quote, the words “the dictionary defines this word as,” or a rambling, half-desperate struggle to appear relevant. Here is where I introduce my topic and the book I read, here is the author’s name I spelled wrong the first time around. Here is where I mention the characters that I remember in an attempt to seem like I actually read the book instead of skimming it. Here is where I halfheartedly try to make my thesis sound like it connects to the rest of this paragraph. Here is the thesis, which I will painstakingly rewrite in every paragraph or else the teacher will say something like “How does this paragraph relate?” even though it’s pretty obvious how that paragraph relates.

Here is me saying the first bit of the thesis statement again, maybe with a different word or two. I heard the teacher mention something about a metaphor or whatever, so I’ll just mention that. Here’s that one character I remember vaguely, and a purposefully verbose depiction of them so I can take up as much space as possible. I only opened the book like a week ago, so “here is a quote that [doesn’t] really make any sense in the context of this paragraph and is overly long so as to extend the length of this essay” (citation I probably did wrong - was that MLA or Chicago?). I will now analyze this quote incorrectly. “Here is another quote,” says that character, probably, I hope (MLA citation). As we saw in that quote, this character said that once, which proves my thesis because I said so. I couldn’t really find a third quote for this paragraph but I once got points off for missing one, so “[here]” is a “[quote]” I might have “[made] up” (APA citation). I might say something in here about that metaphor again, shit, I don’t know. Here’s the thesis, but maybe with three different words.

Transitional sentence I shambled together out of the remains of my hopes and dreams. A rambling, off-topic sentence which probably should have been deleted but it’s four in the morning and I honestly don’t care and I need those full five pages. A drastic shift in the paper where for five seconds I actually think I know what I’m talking about. Here’s a “quotation” that does actually “support” the second part of my thesis and I’m actually really surprised that it does (MLA?). Here’s my analysis of the quote in which I try to explain why that supports my thesis like explaining to a small child why the wind blows. It just does, okay, but I’m only going to be able to express this in really confused and circular speech that my teacher will probably underline and put a condescending little question mark next to. Here’s my second quote, “even though I’m not as sure about it” as the last one (MLA, definitely). Here’s my mentioning that character again, but this time I’m talking also about a second character. I secretly hope I never have to take a test on this stuff. Here’s the “third quote, which I will refuse to cut despite the fact it is again too long and probably needs to be edited for tense changes but if I do that then the teacher will think I give a shit” (APA). Here’s my thesis again but this time I’m connecting it back to the characters because I’m smart see also I have no idea what I’m doing and I want to burn my laptop and I just spent four hours on the internet putting this essay off so now my only option is to just write and pray to god that something makes sense. Concluding line.

Transitional sentence, but with a vague sense of foreboding and dread attached to it. My hands are starting to slow down. I have no idea if my thesis is even right, but here’s some kind of a “quote” that maybe happened I hope (APA, definitely). I have now grown to resent the two characters I have been talking about and I sincerely hope they both die in a fire because literally nothing interesting happens to them literally nothing interesting happened in this book whatsoever, but here’s a “quote that makes it seem like I payed attention in class when the teacher read their favorite bit aloud” (MLA). I am now pretty sure my thesis isn’t correct and that I have zero evidence to support it in any way, but it is far too late in the paper to change anything, so I’m just going to speed ahead and hope the teacher doesn’t notice. I don’t even care anymore if I fail, here’s a “quote because what the hell,” not gonna bother analyzing it because at this point seriously do I still have to explain this stuff how hard is my thesis to grasp (panicky Chicago). Here’s a conclusion, barely.

This is where I say the thesis again, because I hate the teacher at this point and I want them to suffer through reading the same stuff eighty times. Here’s where I try to make this book seem “modern” and “exciting,” when in reality if I had been allowed to read it in my own time and without having to see specific symbols that my teacher wanted, I probably would have liked it. Here’s where I talk about those symbols I just remembered at the last second. Here’s where I say something vague. Here’s how I link the conclusion to the introductory paper, if I’m brave. Here’s a rambling personal thought. Here’s where I panic about how to end this essay. With a question, maybe?

—  Every English Essay I Have Ever Written /// r.i.d
Then and Now

Ship: Nalu

Story Type: Oneshot, Fluffy

Characters: Natsu Dragneel, Lucy Heartfilia

Summary: Confession. It’s sucha daunting word. It just dominates the airspace after you say it. Its three syllables puncture a room like a 30 gauge needle to a fingertip. Okay, I need to shake off this mindset if I’m going to do this.
Do what, you ask? Oh,it’s nothing big. I’m only planning to tell my fellow pea in a pod that I absolutely adore almost everything about him. People do this kind of thing everyday, right?

Keep reading