Hmm, I wonder why I suddenly got so many requests for this fic (this isn’t even all of them jeez). Y’all are sinners. Also I’m not sure if I liked how this one turned out, it’s all a bit she did this he did that, but whatever. I hope you enjoy anyway! Warning:there is sin ahead, honestly blame the buggies.
“Cheryl, what the hell?” Veronica exclaimed, casting her gaze around the room with a raised eyebrow. The head bitch herself had rallied the Vixens for an emergency practice, surprising them all by turning on her heel and marching into the smaller weights room off the side of the gym. Everything had been cleared out, all equipment long gone, replaced only by an array of shiny silver poles stretching from floor to ceiling.
“I’ve been doing my research and it appears that this is the best way to turn your abs to fabs in time for the end of season pep rally,” Cheryl stated, gesturing matter-of-factly around her. Betty gulped.
“Pole dancing?” she asked, voice shaking with the rising of her nerves, brows pinching together in concern.
“Pole fitness,” Cheryl clarified, striding over to a pile of booty shorts, even shorter than their regular required uniform (and significantly tighter, Betty noted), with matching sports bras. “Suit up, my River Vixens. You’ve got a lot to learn in the way of sex appeal.”
“V, I don’t think I can…” Betty mumbled in panic, eye darting between the poles and the tiny garments resting atop her open palm. Her other hand gripped at Veronica’s arm, itching to curl into itself. Veronica glanced down at it before meeting Betty’s wide stare.
“B, it’s okay!” she reassured, bringing her hands up to rest on Betty’s shoulders as she tilted her mouth in a comforting smile. “We’re only at practice, it’s just like exercise,” she reasoned. Betty’s heart rate didn’t slow any. Veronica sighed, eyes running over the room as she tried to find the right words. “Okay, think of it this way. This is an aid to becoming stronger, right? Mind and body. It’s gonna make you feel confident and powerful. So think of something that already gets you halfway there.” Mischief glinted in her dark irises. “Maybe… when you’re with a certain dark-haired, brooding, Byron wannabe? I bet you know a few ways to help him raise the flag-”
“Veronica!” Betty screeched, tilting her head to watch the open door, cheeks flushing scarlet as she pulled her hand back from the other girl’s arm like she’d been burned. Veronica grinned devilishly, shrugging her delicate shoulders.
“I’m just saying, Betty. Channel some of that ‘in the moment’ confidence.” Her eyes softened. “It’ll help,” she threw over her shoulder as she turned to go and change. Betty took a breath, releasing the tension from her back as she stretched out her fingers. She could do this.
Betty stumbled into the girl’s locker room, muscles she didn’t even know she had aching, red bruises forming between her thighs. Pole, she had quickly learned, was exhausting. Add to that a commanding Cheryl Blossom, on the warpath for perfectly arched backs and streamlined drops, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to walk for a week.
But Veronica had been right. It did make her feel powerful, in control, even - dare she say it - sexy. It allowed her the kind of freedom she craved when she just let go, without any of the darkness clouded the edges of her vision, pulling her into an unreachable abyss. Betty bit her lip against her smile as she opened her gym locker - she could definitely get used to this feeling. Gripping the cool metal between her fingers, her thighs, back arching as she swung gracefully.
“Want me to wait for you, B?” Veronica asked, coming up behind her. Betty startled at her close voice, ponytail whipping sharply behind her, the dark-haired girl ducking out of the way.
“Wha- Oh, no. I’m supposed to be meeting Jughead to work on the Blue and Gold,” she smiled. Veronica smirked.
“Whatever you say. Enjoy your work,” she said suggestively, flitting out of the locker room with one last coy glance at Betty’s mortified expression. She huffed out a laugh, shaking her head at her friend’s antics as she pulled her clothes out.
The surrounding din quietened down as the last of the Vixens left for the night, leaving Betty alone. She glanced round cautiously, checking there were no prying eyes still, before slipping back into the gym. She couldn’t help herself; she just wanted to lose herself in the sensation for a little bit longer. She stepped gingerly towards the centre pole, clasping it with damp palms. She hooked her right knee around the object, like she’d been taught a few hours before, and pushed her weight off her left foot, propelling herself round.
She caught glimpses of herself in the mirror lining one wall. It didn’t feel like her own reflection staring back at her. She didn’t see pink sweaters and slicked back hair. She saw lean lines, strong muscles, elegant curves. There was a way about her features, her narrowed eyes, her mouth set with firm confidence, that made her blood buzz as she continued to move. She dipped her body, leg coming up in a sharp angle as she let her eyes drift closed for a moment.
“Betty?” Her eyes flew open at the low voice coming from her right. She straightened herself quickly, fingers clutching at the pole as she took in Jughead’s form standing in the doorway. Her cheeks burned.
“Juggie…” she breathed, unable to meet his eyes. “H-how long have you been standing there?” His own cheekbones were already dusted an adorable pink, blue eyes wide. He swallowed around the thickness in his throat, adam’s apple bobbing distinctly.
“Um, not that long, really. Just a while… a f-few minutes, maybe,” he stammered, ashamed of how long he’d stood silently, knowing she hadn’t seen him, while she danced.
He was entranced the moment he’d opened the door. He’d gotten worried, Betty was never usually this late to their meetings, and ventured out find her. He’d heard the music coming from the weights room and curiously pushed open to the door only to find her, twisting her body sensually to the beat now pounding in his ears. Jughead had frozen in place, boots rooted to the spot, unable to look away - not wanting to - even though he knew he was spying. She’d just looked so beautiful he couldn’t help it. His fingers itched with the desire to touch her, a pool of warmth flooding his lower belly and sending sparks southwards. His heart thudded, so loud he was surprised she couldn’t hear it, air getting too hot against his skin.
She appraised him with her usual, wide eyes, snapping back instantly into the Betty he was familiar with. She chewed on her lower lip, fingers playing idly with the elastic on her shorts. She could see the way his pupils had blown wide with lust, with want for her, as he’d been watching. His breath was coming a degree faster than normal, the way it did whenever she’d run her fingers down his chest, her teeth across his collarbone. She was turning him on just by the way she was moving, across the room entirely. The thought simmered beneath her skin, sending a delicious warmth to the apex of her thighs.
Before Betty could stop herself she was moving to grab one of the chairs stacked against the wall, placing it a few feet away from the pole she was previously using. She grabbed Jughead’s hand, his palm reassuring in hers, and dragged him over, pushing on his shoulders to get him to sit. He gazed up at her questioningly, eyebrows knit in confusion. She simply smiled, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to his soft cheek.
“Just watch,” she murmured against his heated skin. He nodded, dumbfound, not quite sure what he was agreeing to but knowing he didn’t want to say no. In the moment confidence, Veronica had said. The fluttering nervousness in her chest was blooming into something new, a need to have Jughead’s eager eyes on her as she danced, wanting him to see her whilst she reached this new high.
Betty took a breath, feeling the beat vibrating up through her legs. Her hand came up to her ponytail, pulling the band out and tossing it away, letting her honey waves free around her shoulders. Jughead shifted in her peripheries, hands coming to rest on his knees, waiting for the performance to begin.
She walked round the pole, each step measured and calculated, one hand running delicately over the metal. Every so often she chanced a glance at Jughead from beneath her lashes, finding his eyes glued to her frame. This dance wasn’t like the others from practice. Betty swung her hips back and forth, sweeping her hair over her shoulders with a flick of her head, adding a whole new layer of sensuality to her steps. She spun, enjoying the slight breeze across her warm skin that the movement caused, pulling her lower lip between her teeth as she arched her neck. Jughead cleared his throat shuffling in his chair as his fingers clutched aimlessly at the denim covering his knees. It was so apparent what she was doing to him, his tongue coming out to wet his suddenly dry lips.
Betty turned to face him, hands clasped above her head as she slowly started to slide her back down the pole, never once taking her darkened eyes from his. She reached the ground, a surge of confidence igniting a fire throughout her body as she caught sight of the prominent bulge between his shifting thighs, parting her knees and spreading her legs in a move that definitely wasn’t a part of Cheryl’s earlier routine.
“Betts…” Her name fell, slightly strangled, from his parted lips. She stood slowly, stalking towards him with a glint in her eye, like a predator seeking its prey. Her hands braced themselves on his shoulders as she swung her leg over his thighs, settling down over his lap. There was a delicious ache forming between her overworked thighs as she fought to keep her eyes from rolling back into her head. Jughead’s eyelids fluttered as they both let out perfectly synchronised moans at the long awaited pressure, but he was determined to take in every second of this moment, of Betty free of restriction before him. She grasped his wrists, placing his desperate hands on the small of her waist. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, voice hoarse. She giggled, the sound causing his own lips to lift in a smile.
“I think I do,” she muttered, circling her hips purposefully. Jughead groaned, bucking up involuntarily at the sensation. Betty paused, lifting her weight slightly from him. “You have to stay still. This is my show,” she teased, raising a challenging eyebrow. He nodded, not trusting his voice. She dropped herself down again, continuing the torturous roll of her hips, arms locked around his neck.
She swayed gently, her scent completely overwhelming Jughead’s senses. Her firm breasts were at his eye level, heaving slightly before his face. Blue eyes followed the bead of sweat, from her earlier exertion, that rolled down her collarbone and disappeared into the valley of her cleavage, wanting to chase it with his tongue. His fingers crept up her side, cupping the underside of her breast gently. All movement ceased as she threw him a threatening look, shivers rolling down Jughead’s spine, pushing the wandering hand firmly back to her waist. Betty moved her lips to his ear, warm breath making him shudder.
“Having trouble following the rules, Jug?” she whispered, unable to stop the grin from spreading across her face as she felt his fingers flex against her skin, head tilting to allow her more access to his neck. A low groan caught in his chest as she gave a pointed swivel of her hips. He blew out an uneven breath as she trailed her lips down his flushed skin, movements unrelenting now, mouth resting over his pounding pulse point. She latched her lips over the spot and sucked, small mewl vibrating against him as she felt the responding twitch in his pants directly beneath her sensitive core.
Betty pulled back, satisfied with the purple bruise she’d left amongst the fading others already littered across his pale skin. She knew that the uncontrolled grip he had against her delicate flesh would leave lingering fingerprints for her to run her hands over affectionately later, remembering the effect she had on him.
Jughead’s breathing hitched as she dropped her forehead to his, their breaths mixing, panting into each other, as she lay her open mouth over his. Her movements were speeding up, the coil in the pit of Jughead’s stomach tightening as his vision started to blur. Betty bent closer, catching Jughead’s chapped lower lip between her teeth and pulling gently.
It didn’t take much more, every last nerve Jughead had now frayed and oversensitive because of the woman in his lap, heat of her core radiating through his pants. With one last twist of her hips he couldn’t hold back any longer, loud groan tearing itself from his chest, hips bucking upwards, stuttering, as he came, pulsing beneath her.
Betty slowed her movements, revelling in the way he twitched and grunted beneath her as she coaxed him through his release, overly stimulated and exhausted. He finally opened his eyes, fingers coming to cup her cheek, looking up at her in awe. He pulled her down, placing a sweet, gentle kiss to her bitten lips.
“I never knew I could like gym so much,” he joked against her lips, Betty dropping her head to the crook of his neck with an exuberant laugh.
“Or that you’d have a reason to thank Cheryl Blossom,” she murmured with an amused smile, tucking herself closer into his embrace.
A/N: Wow! This took a while to complete, but I really wanted this one to be something special!I really hope you guys like this Emmett x Reader, I took 3 different requests and fit them all in together. Tell me how you like it!
Requests: (#1)Could you please write an imagine on what it would be like to be mated to Emmett if the reader was really shy and/or socially awkward? How would Emmett act about it?
(#2) For the Emmett Cullen request, maybe something were the reader is very tiny and shy so he constantly flirts with her to get a reaction out of her?
(#3)Maybe an Emmett imagine where you’re new and mike won’t leave you alone and mike starts being really creepy and Emmett comes to your rescue ________________________________________________
When you’re a new student at a school you should expect to get attention. This is especially true in high school, when you think about it most of these people have known each other since they were in elementary school, so when someone new comes into the mix it is exciting. It had been a busy two weeks since I started my junior year at Forks public high school, the attention I received the first few days had worn off and I was no longer news. Except to Mike Newton.
part seven of my never ending attempt to bring krypto on the show
anonymous said: For Krypto! Headcannons, does Clark ever get his act together and visit with Kara/Krypto/Lena?
i am going to pretend i have thought of this before
it’s a few months later into it, a few months of getting the routine down, a few months of waking up to krypto’s nose poking into her cheek and teeth nibbling at her clothes when clark comes down for a visit
and oh, kara knows there’s issues-issues, it’s easier to call it that, something little, something manageable than what she actually thinks which is more along the lines of why did you leave me, why did you leave him- but she still gets excited at the thought of him visiting
alex and lena share a look. they do not tell her what this look means.
trust her, she asks. they remain silent on the issue
I hope this is alright! Sorry it’s a million years late! <3
It was a Wednesday morning when Sansa walked in on Harry arse-naked on top of some blonde in their shared bed. At first, she’d just stood there, thinking about how ugly Harry was and how gross he looked in the throes of sex. Everything about it looked so mechanical and dull – and god, if you’re going to cheat on your girlfriend who you just moved in with then at least throw it all away for a night (or rather morning) of passion. That’s why people cheat, right? They get so overwhelmed by sexual chemistry and something new that they can’t resist themselves, so what does it say about Sansa that her boyfriend of a year cheated on her for mediocre sex?
She’s not sure and it’s better if she pretends she doesn’t know the answer to that question.
“Sans? Where do you want this?”
Her brother is studying her with his arms wrapped tightly around a box labeled ‘shit Sansa doesn’t need’ courtesy of her little sister.
“Um, just… anywhere is good. Thank you, Robb.” The smile she offers is faint and lacking any warmth, but it’s the best she can do considering she’s twenty-six-years-old and moving in with her brother and his two flatmates. She loves Robb and there’s a part of her that still worships the ground he walks on, but she honestly does not want to live with him and his friends. Sansa was supposed to be getting her own space, settling down and being a grown up, only that all went crashing down around her when Harry decided to stick his prick in somewhere else.
She grimaces at the thought and that catches Robb’s attention.
“Harry was gross, wasn’t he?” she asks instead, looking around the room. It’s a decent size with two large windows to one side that faces another apartment complex. It’s not a great view, but the room is well-lit and she likes that.
Her brother chuckles in surprise. “We’re just glad you didn’t catch anything.”
Sansa’s grimace grows and she throws a pillow at his head. “Ew, Robb. Don’t even joke about that!” She’s already been to the GP for a very thorough STI test, and thankfully, she’s clean. She supposes the one good thing Harry has going for him is a healthy knowledge of sexual education and the follow-through to always wear a condom.
“Sorry,” he laughs, putting both hands up in the universal sign of surrender, but when Sansa rolls her eyes, her brother moves towards her swiftly and wraps her in his signature bear hugs. “Hey, you’re better off without him, yeah? You’re way too good for a weasel like Harry.”
“I know that,” she mumbles into his shirt.
“I love you, Lemon.”
“Love you too, Bacon,” she says, shaking her head at their stupid childhood nicknames. Lemon for her for the amount of lemon cakes she used to eat and Bacon for him for the amount of bacon he used to steal from everyone’s plates. In their defence, Sansa had been four and Robb seven.
Once her brother leaves her new room, Sansa flops down on the bed with a heavy groan. She doesn’t know what’s more tragic – the fact that her boyfriend cheated on her or the fact that she doesn’t feel even a smidgen of heartbreak.
“THEON, GET THE HELL OUT!”
“I’M SO SORRY I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE HOME!”
Sansa grabs for her towel and runs out into the living room where Robb is sitting on the L-shaped sofa with Jon playing some video game. Both are staring up at them with wide eyes, but she takes no notice of this. She’s too busy glaring daggers at the scrawny man before her.
“How do you not – didn’t you hear the shower going!” She’s not screaming any more but she is still very close to killing him.
“What? Mate, did you fucking walk in on my sister showering?” Robb is now on his feet with a scowl on his face. Theon instinctively recoils back in fear, which really irks Sansa, because he should be more afraid of her.
“I didn’t mean to. I swear it was an accident!” Theon says in a rush. He looks to Sansa and seems to be imploring her with his eyes. “Honest, Sansa! And if it makes you feel any better, you have a very lovely figure.”
“Ugh, douchebag jar now!” she screeches in frustration, grabbing an empty can from the nearby table and hurling it at Theon’s head. He ducks in time but the physical action does make her feel a little better. “You guys need to fix that lock or I swear to god I will make your lives hell.” With that said, she storms back to the shower to finish rinsing out her hair.
Day six of living with the boys is going disastrously. Not only has Theon seen her naked but she’s pretty sure she’s heard her brother having sex multiple times now, and if it happens again, she’s going to cut off her ears.
It’s Valentine’s Day and Sansa officially hates her life. Harry and her had plans to travel down to London and stay at a nice hotel. Of course now her Valentine’s Day consists of cocooning herself in a duvet while watching Bridget Jones’ Diary and drinking wine. It’s mean and petty but she’s fuming that everyone she knows has plans. Even Theon sodding Greyjoy has a date! How did that buffoon trick someone into going out with him is beyond her, but she supposes the silver lining is that she has the flat to herself.
Bridget has just shown up to the garden party in a little bunny outfit when the door to the flat bursts open and Jon comes stumbling in decked out in his fireman uniform. He looks weary and exhausted, and it takes him several minutes to notice her. In fact, he probably wouldn’t have at all if she hadn’t shifted on the sofa causing the leather to squelch underneath her.
“Fuck!” he exclaims, jumping back in surprise. His curly hair is in such disarray and his eyes are so comically wide she has a hard time stifling the giggle rising up her throat. “I didn’t – I thought you’d be out or something.”
Sansa arches a brow. “With who? My non-existent boyfriend or my illustrious ex?”
Jon flushes and rubs the back of his neck. “Right, sorry. I just thought you of all people would have a date.”
“Me of all people? What’s that supposed to mean?”
If it’s possible for a person to turn into a tomato, Jon is doing a very good job right now with that transformation. “Nothing. Um… Bridget Jones?”
“You like Bridget Jones?” This is news to her. But then most of what she’s found out about Robb’s sullen best friend is news to her. “Didn’t peg you as the type.”
He shrugs as he kicks off his shoes and drops down next to her. “It’s alright.” But thirty minutes later, Jon is completely gripped by the story. He’s laughing and shaking his head in time to each crazy or absurd thing Bridget does. It’s surprisingly endearing and Sansa finds herself watching him for the rest of the film instead. He has a very expressive face when it’s not wearing that grumpy mask he has on most of the time.
“Why aren’t you on a date?” Sansa asks once the credits start rolling.
Jon blinks at her, fingers clenching and unclenching around his coffee mug filled to the brim with red wine. “Don’t really feel like dating.”
“Bad breakup?” she pushes, because she really doesn’t know a thing about Jon and she should considering they’re now flatmates. He’s also the most sane one out of the three of them.
“Does it count as a reason if it was over two years ago?”
Sansa surprises herself by laughing at that. “Yeah, sure. If it was bad enough.”
“Is my ex getting into a car accident, going into a coma for three months and waking up only to decide to travel the world without me bad enough?” he asks, and if it isn’t for the glimmer of a smile on his lips, Sansa would be horrified by that tale.
She pretends to think about it for a second. “Hmm… I guess I can give you that one.”
“You’re so gracious,” Jon says, chuckling. “So what was your bad breakup? Robb didn’t really tell us anything other than Harry is a twat and he’s going to gut him like a fish.”
“Oh god,” she sighs. Robb really needs to get a grip on this overprotective brother thing. If she hears he actually tried to fight Harry, she’ll kill them both. “I think you have me beat on the bad breakup front but I think coming home to see your boyfriend breaking in your new mattress with someone that’s not you is pretty rubbish.”
“Ouch,” Jon says, as he reaches over to place a comforting hand over her own. His hand is big and warm, calloused but still soft enough to make her body shiver from the contact. “That is shit, Sansa. I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“It’s okay,” Sansa says automatically, before feeling emboldened by the wine to add, “but you know what’s the most screwed up part? I’m actually more upset about the mattress than I am about Harry. I mean – I paid for half of that mattress and mattresses are expensive, Jon. They’re supposed to be an investment, right? Except now I’ll never be able to use it.”
He shakes his head, smiling bemusedly at her. “You’ll buy a new mattress.”
“But it was a really good mattress!” she whines. “It has one of those memory foam things.”
“Oh jesus, yeah, that’s definitely a real loss,” Jon nods with a completely serious expression. “I’m sorry for your pain.”
“Shut up.” She swats at him with one of the ends of the duvet. “You’re an asshole.”
Jon grins, grabbing the remote from her and flicking through Netflix for something else to watch. “I hate to break it to you, Sans, but everyone in this flat is an asshole. Even you.”
“Excuse me?” she cries out indignantly.
“Uhuh, so you’re saying you’re not the one that threw all of Theon’s toiletries into the toilet? Or the one that keeps turning down the boiler so it’s practically the Arctic Circle in here?”
“Well…” Sansa chews on her bottom lip as she hides behind her wine glass. “In my defence, Theon deserved it and – I like the cold.”
“See,” Jon smirks now. “Asshole.”
Theon gets dumped by his girlfriend on a Friday.
In the five months Sansa’s been living with them, Theon’s been with this girl for three of those months and he was actually normal. He only had to add to the douchebag jar every other day as opposed to every day. They were even becoming sort of friends because apparently boyfriend-Theon likes to get Sansa’s opinion on how to dote on his girlfriend. It was cute, which was why when Theon comes home looking as broken as an abandoned puppy, Sansa is game with the boys to taking him out and getting him shitfaced drunk.
She’s not much of a drinker herself. Sansa doesn’t like to lose control. As a Scottish woman from a very Scottish family, this is practically unheard of, but her mother is from a posh family in Oxford, who doesn’t believe in drinking in excess, so that’s probably where she gets it from. It works out in their little ragtag group because by ten-thirty, Theon and Robb are so drunk they’re swaying and stumbling into anyone in a ten-metre radius, and Sansa just knows she’s going to have to shove them in a taxi soon.
“Bitch,” Jon slurs beside her. The two of them are leaning against a table, watching as the two idiots tell some wild joke to a group of girls, who look way too young for them.
He glances down at her for a brief second before returning his focus on the boys. “Theon’s ex. She was a bloody bitch.”
“What actually happened?” Sansa asks. She doesn’t know the story and she’s too afraid to ask Theon in case he starts crying, because drunk Theon? She can handle that. Emotional and crying Theon? That’s out of her realm.
Jon sighs and angles his body towards hers so he can lean in to speak more privately.
It is incredibly unfair how attractive he is. Sansa shouldn’t even be thinking that he’s hot because he’s her flatmate, and over the past few months, Jon’s become something like a best friend to her. They spend most weekends together lying on the sofa watching Netflix and drinking wine. He’ll occasionally drop by the preschool she works at if it’s his day off to bring her lunch. And if he’s working late, Sansa will wait up for him just to make sure he’s home in one piece and there’s someone there for him to talk to if it’s a particularly gruesome fire. She doesn’t want to ruin that by something as stupid as attraction.
“She told Theon that he spends an unreasonable amount of time with us,” Jon says lowly, the timbre of his voice sending shivers up her spine. “She actually told him that he shouldn’t have flatmates at his age and gave him an ultimatum to either move in with her or break up.”
“He chose us?” Sansa’s voice wavers and she forgets all about Jon and his stupidly attractive face and body because she’s suddenly overcome with such affection for Theon. Yeah, he’s a bit perverse and has no brain-to-mouth filter, but he chose them.
“Of course he chose us,” Jon says, looking at her incredulously. “Theon may be a prick most of the time but he’s loyal.”
“He just gives off the impression that he’d drop us for the next best thing,” she admits with shame colouring her tone.
To Jon’s credit, he chuckles and touches her shoulder gingerly. “I’m not saying he’s not an opportunistic twat or that he won’t screw us over one day but never intentionally.”
That sounds more like the Theon she knows, but even so, Sansa can’t find it in herself to really hate him for being that kind of person. It’s just who he is. With a father like Balon Greyjoy, it kind of makes sense for him to be the way he is, but Jon’s right. He is good. Given the chance, he would do the right thing – which is exactly the moment Sansa spots his ex-girlfriend and anger curls deep in her chest.
“Wait here,” she tells Jon and starts forward without waiting for a response. As Sansa gets closer and closer to Naiyla Rochelle, she starts to realise she doesn’t exactly have a plan. She wants to punch her but that probably isn’t going to help Theon any. She could tell her if she ever contacts Theon again, Sansa will have her killed and hide her body in the river or something, but that seems very extreme and hyperbolic.
“Naiyla,” she greets with a wide obviously fake smile. “It’s good to see you again.”
The brunette startles at seeing Sansa but plasters on an equally fake smile. “Sansa, hi. How are you?”
“Pretty great.” She’s at least a good foot taller than Naiyla so she uses her height to her advantage, straightening her limbs to appear more intimidating. “I’m so sorry to hear about you and Theon. It’s such a shame. But I guess it worked in my favour, you know?” She smiles bashfully. “I’ve always had the biggest crush on Theon.”
“Really, you?” Naiyla looks sceptical.
“Are you kidding?” Sansa says with wide eyes. “He’s a bit rough around the edges, I admit, but when he cares about someone, he’s loyal till the very end. He’ll wade through trash just to get back to the people he loves.” She glances behind her and waves in Theon’s general direction. “Oh, I have to run now. So nice to see you again. Have a good night, Naiyla.”
When she saunters back to Jon, he has one brow arched and a bemused smile on his face. “What did you say to her? She looks ready to kill you.”
Sansa smirks. “Nothing. I was the perfect lady.”
“Yeah,” Jon smiles, fond. “I bet you were.”
Sansa goes away to a teacher convention for four days. It’s the longest she’s been apart from the boys in seven months and she really misses them.
She misses the lazy afternoons with her brother sitting on the roof of their building. She misses Theon yelling and shouting at the football match as he simultaneously tries to explain to her what’s going on. She misses Jon and his hugs and how he always smells like smoke and something distinctly him. She misses the way he catches her eye across the breakfast table and gives her a small barely-there smile. God, it’s pathetic but she even misses the way he would argue with her about the best way to handle problems in the flat.
When Sansa finally returns, it’s to an empty flat and she can’t help the kernel of disappointment from ricocheting around in her stomach. She wasn’t expecting a welcome back party but she did expect something. Dropping her suitcase in her room, Sansa immediately goes to take a shower because three hours on a bus has made her feel gross and sticky. But once she’s done, there’s still no one around. In fact, by the time Sansa finishes her dinner, she’s beginning to get a little worried about where everyone is. It’s a Sunday so they should all be home. None of them ever do anything on a Sunday.
To Flat Fam
Sansa: Where are you guys?
Barely a minute goes by before she gets a response.
Robb: Ur home!? I thought u were getting back on the 10th!
Sansa winces at her brother’s text speak. She hates text speak.
Sansa: It is the 10th!
Robb: Oh shit. Sorry Sans. Theon n I are in Manchester for the footy. We’re getting the late train back. Won’t be in till midnight.
Sansa: Okay. Where’s Jon?
Robb: Wait is he not in his room?
Abruptly, her phone starts buzzing and it’s Robb ringing her.
“Okay, so don’t yell at us but we didn’t tell you because we didn’t want to worry you,” Robb greets without preamble.
“What are you on about?”
Her brother sighs heavily on the other end of the line. It’s a bit of a strain to hear him over the roaring crowd in the background. “So Jon, our resident idiot, got himself hurt during a house fire. He had a concussion, a couple of fractured ribs and he lost a lot of blood. He’s okay now but he’s supposed to be on house rest.”
Sansa’s heart slows to a worrying pace. The very thought that she could’ve lost Jon and no one even thought to tell her is making her body shut down, like it just doesn’t know how to react.
“He’s at the station,” Sansa says mechanically, working on autopilot now. “I have to go.”
“Sansa, don’t –”
But she’s already hung up and grabbed someone’s jumper from the back of a chair. Coincidentally, it’s Jon’s. His scent overwhelms her and she’s stuck between being furious with him and just wanting to bury her face in his chest so she can breathe him in and be sure he’s really there.
It takes her nearly twenty minutes to reach the station. The entire time people have been giving her a wide berth as she stomps through town in Jon’s way too large jumper, her pyjama bottoms and the three-inch heeled boots she left lying by the front door. It’s probably not going to get her on any street style list but she’s glad for the space it’s providing her.
When she enters the station, her eyes immediately zero in on one of Jon’s coworker. She’s met all of them several times now at house parties and pub nights, so she doesn’t hesitate to grab him by the shirt.
“Where’s Jon?” Sansa demands. He shrinks from her glare. “Edd, I’m not kidding around. Where is he?”
“Uh… upstairs. In the… um, office.”
Unclenching her fist from around Edd’s shirt, Sansa continues to stomp her way upstairs until she sees the office and barges in. Jon jumps from his seat with a hand over his heart as he stares up at her.
“Not one text!” Sansa shouts at him. “I didn’t get one text from you this entire weekend. You know, at first, I thought to myself, ‘oh he’s probably busy,’ so I didn’t overthink it, but I just found out from Robb that you were in an accident?” He opens his mouth to reply but she cuts him off. “What if it was more serious? What if you had died? And the last thing we ever said to each other was just… I don’t know. I don’t even remember, Jon! I can’t even –” Her voice breaks and she realises belatedly she’s crying. “I can’t remember!”
Jon’s up and out of his chair in seconds, cupping her face in between his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sansa,” he murmurs between kisses to every inch of her cheeks. “But I’m here. I’m here and I’m alive and I’m not going anywhere.”
“You can’t promise that,” Sansa points out, glaring at him even though she’s still crying. “No one can promise that.”
“Okay, how about I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life however short or long it is talking to you every day?” Jon suggests with a faint smile.
She shakes her head. “That’s silly. You don’t have to talk to me every day.”
“But I want to,” he says seriously. “I want to talk to you all of the time. When I don’t, it’s like – nothing feels right, like I’m missing something.” He leans forward slowly to give her ample time to move away and kisses her. It’s barely there, just the soft press of lips, before he’s pulling back. “I’m so bloody in love with you, Sansa.”
Instead of responding, Sansa grabs the collar of his shirt and drags him back to her so she can show him just how much she loves him too, how no one’s opinion has ever meant more to her than his, how he can fix any bad day just by wrapping his arms around her and letting her cling onto him.
When they’re lying in her bed later that night, Sansa rolls over, her cheek pressed into his bare chest and whispers, “I love you too, Jon.”
“You two are real cute and all but I do not want to walk into my own home and be greeted by the sight of my best friend and my baby sister having sex.”
Sansa untucks herself from Jon’s side so she can turn and roll her eyes at her brother. “We’re literally cuddling on the sofa fully clothed.”
“Yeah, well, this is a PDA-free zone,” Robb huffs as he disappears into the kitchen with the groceries, while Theon walks up to the back of the sofa with an awkward smile on his face.
“Uh Sans… Can I talk to you for a second?”
She nods and then turns to Jon to see if he knows what’s going on but her boyfriend just shrugs. Sansa follows Theon out of the living room to the corridor. He looks even more uncomfortable now than he did before, which is really bizarre. She’s never seen him this awkward in her life.
“I ran into Naiyla today,” Theon says. “Apparently, she thinks we’re together?”
Sansa barks out a laugh. “Oh my god, I forgot all about that!”
“What? What do you mean?”
“Remember when we took you out after she broke up with you?” she asks, to which he nods. “I saw her there too and I might’ve told her I had a huge crush on you and insinuated she was a pile of trash.” Sansa shrugs, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry…”
“Sorry?” Theon repeats and laughs loudly, drawing her into a hug. “Oh no, don’t ever fucking apologise for calling her trash! I mean that’s awesome. Thanks, Sans! I didn’t even know you liked me that much.” And in typical Theon fashion, he winks at her.
“Don’t push it,” Sansa says, heaving a sigh. “I like you a small amount but I hate Naiyla more for what she did to you.”
Theon sniggers. “Yeah, she’s a fucking bitch. Tried to get back together and everything.”
“Yeah, apparently she ‘missed me so much’,” Theon mocks and rolls his eyes. “Never again.”
“I’m glad you’re over her,” she says emphatically, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Honestly, you can do way better.”
“It has been like, nearly a year since we broke up, Sans,” Theon says. “I’m ready to move on and whatever.”
“Good! That’s really good. It took me awhile too after Harry but…” She glances back towards the living room to the sounds of Jon’s laughter. “It was worth it to go through all of that shit to get to him.”
A rare genuine smile appears on Theon’s face and she almost wants to comment on it but his next words are even more surprising that she doesn’t get a chance.
“I’ve never seen either of you look so happy… but it’s not just that. It’s like you’re both finally at peace or something. I don’t know.” He shrugs a little bashfully, like he doesn’t want anyone to know he can actually have meaningful thoughts. “It’s nice to see, that’s all.”
ahhh i finally did it! i finished a fic after about a year and a half of writers block and no drive! this a junkfish and fisherman Mako fic inspired by the art work by @brundle-bambi !! thank you so much for your beautiful art work.
Request: I don’t know if you’ve done one already like this, but could you do one where the reader is in the glade when Thomas comes up, and she’s the one that shows him around and such? And also, could you maybe include it where the reader is a really good fire, and on every bone fire night, she and gally fight because when she first got in the maze she beat gally? I dunno, just an idea that that’s when Thomas first really, really notices her.. Xxx
You stood set down the planks of wood you’d been carrying and stretched, arching your back, before heading off to retrieve more. Gally jogged past you, a smug grin on his face. You rolled your eyes and called out after him, “Seriously?”
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little friendly competition,” he yelled back as he hefted four planks onto his shoulders. You shook your head, sprinted over, and picked up five.
“Nothing at all,” you huffed, jogging to keep up with your keeper’s long stride. Maybe you and Gally acted under the facade of ‘friendly competition’ but everyone knew that both of you were dead set on winning anything and everything and the only thing you hated more than losing was losing to him. You had just set down your five planks and jumped out of the way of the four Gally nearly dropped on your foot when the siren announcing the coming of the box sounded through the glade. Without even exchanging a glance, you and Gally raced off to the box. You were always faster than Gally, but he was stronger. When you finally arrived, you put your hands on your knees, gasping for breath, but grinned all the same when Gally came huffing behind you.
Just as you heard the box screech to a stop, Newt and the other gladers gathered around. Gally pulled open the top hatch and jumped in before you had the chance. Peering over the edge, you caught sight of the new greenie. He was dark haired and handsome with pretty brown eyes.
“Day one, Greenie. Rise and shine,” you heard Gally say as he reached out to help the newbie to his feet. You rolled your eyes. Gally usually spent all month coming up with something dramatic to say to the new greenie. As soon as he got up out of the box and on solid ground, the green bean took off running. You stood by, mildly impressed by his speed. Cringing as his foot caught and he plummeted to the ground in a face plant, you jogged over with the others to watch Newt and Alby make introductions. “This here is the glade. Don’t worry, your memory loss is completely normal, it happens to all of us. I’m Alby, and this is Newt, my second in command.” the new kid nodded numbly, still craning his neck to get a good look at the place. You remembered your first day and how scared you were. It was only ten months ago, but it felt like an eternity. “Y/n!” Alby called, motioning for you to come over. “Why don’t you show greenie here around?”
You grinned and stuck out your hand to shake the Greenie’s. He took it tentatively, but shook it all the same. “Welcome home, Greenie. My name’s Y/n. Follow me, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”
As you guided him around the glade, explaining everything you could, you couldn’t help but like the new guy. He was quiet at first, yes, but as the tour went on, he began asking good questions and you got the feeling that this guy was smarter than he looked. Not that there was anything wrong with how he looked- he was actually extremely handsome.
“So listen, there are a bunch of different jobs to choose from. Starting tomorrow, for the next week or so you’ll be testing them out and seeing what you’re good at,” you explained as you walked past the homestead.
“What kind of jobs are there?” he asked, pausing for a moment to glance inside one of the windows.
“Well, there’s lots. You’ve got your track hoes, who tend to the crops, you’ve got your builders, that one’s obvious, you’ve got your sloppers, pretty much anyone living and breathing could do that job, your slicers, nasty work that is, and your runners to name a few.”
“Runners?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow. You put forth conscious effort to keep from rolling your eyes.
“Runners. They spend their days running the maze, looking for a way out. Now don’t be getting any ideas, got it shank? Only the best and brightest can survive out there in the maze,” you added sternly, cutting him a sharp look.
“Well then why aren’t you a runner?” he asked, looking up at you with his dark handsome eyes. Ducking your head and blushing, you mumbled out a response.
“Flattery will get you nowhere, newbie. And besides, someone has to keep all these shanks in line.”
The rest of the tour went well even though he asked torrents of questions, and then you were off to work again, leaving the newbie under the care of Chuck. You couldn’t help but get distracted as you worked, watching the greenie follow Chuck around the glade, retrieving a sleeping bag for him and other odds and ends that made life here more comfortable. Chuck was sweet, but he could be incredibly annoying. However, the greenie seemed to handle him well. You smiled as Chuck laughed out loud at something the greenie said, a smile creeping onto his own lips.
“Oh, come on, Y/n. You didn’t strike me as the type,” Gally called, snapping you out of a daze. You rolled your eyes and turned to face him.
“The type to what, pray tell?”
“The type to get the hots for the greenie,” he teased, eyes glinting with mirth and a smirk on his face. You cocked your hip and crossed your arms over your chest.
“Oh please, I’m just curious. He seems to be handling it better than most. I want to know what’s different.” “Yeah, sure, you’re just curious,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, guaffing at your indignant expression.
“Come on, dude, it’s time for the bonfire!” Chuck squealed, pulling Thomas by the arm towards a congregation of gladers surrounding a tall structure of wood.
“Bonfire?” he asked, glancing at Chuck with a furrowed brow. He kept jabbering on about things Thomas obviously didn’t know about, and it was driving him mad.
“Yeah, every time the box comes up with supplies and a new greenie we have a bonfire to celebrate,” he chirped. Thomas shrugged, glancing around the darkening glade. He’d rather go to sleep and try to process what had happened thus far, but got the feeling that that wasn’t exactly an option. As they approached, someone lit the wooden structure, creating a blazing fire. He caught sight of Y/n among the crowd, her face illuminated in the orange light, her eyes shining.
“Alright shanks, who’s next?” a harsh voice hollered from beside the fire. He spun around to see Gally standing over another glader lying prone on the ground, coughing up sand. His stomach clenched uncomfortably.
“Chuck, I thought one of the rules was to never harm another glader,” Thomas murmured, pointing to Gally as the boy scrambled to his feet with a groan. Chuck opened his mouth to respond when a large hand slapped Thomas’s back.
“Ahh, this is different. All fun and games, yeah?” a voice nearly shouted in his ear over the chatter of the other gladers. The asian kid, Minho, gave a devilish grin and pointed back to Gally. Thomas noticed with a jolt that Y/n was approaching him, a determined glint in her eye. “Oh, now you’re in for a show. See, when Y/n came up in the box, being the first girl ‘n all, she was a little…”
“Defensive,” Newt chimed in, sidling over and standing on my other side, a jar full of some unknown liquid in his right hand.
Minho nodded appreciatively. “Yes, defensive. Anyway, we always have these fights for fun at the bonfires, and Gally always dominates, but her first night, that tough little shank stepped up to the plate and kicked his pony lovin’ butt. It was the best thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life.”
“So, now,” Newt said, picking up where Minho left off. “She fights Gally every bonfire because neither of them can end on a loss. Her record is 4 and 6, so we’re all hoping she can bring home another win tonight,” he said, a grin on his face.
Thomas watched in awe as Y/n cracked her knuckles and bared her teeth in a grin at Gally, who smirked. They circled around each other threateningly. He looked like a pitbull in a dogfight, but Y/n looked like a lioness closing in for the kill. Gally attacked first, lunging forward and swinging at her head, but Y/n was fast. She ducked out of the way and maneuvered herself so that she was behind him, batting him upside the head before he could even turn around. When he did turn, he faked going for her midsection, but at the last second bent down and swept her legs out from under her. Y/n fell to the floor, Gally following after her, pinning her to the ground by the shoulders. A collective groan went up from the gladers, but Minho shook his head, patting Thomas on the chest distractedly, never taking his eyes off of the fight. “Nah, she’s got it- just watch.”
Just when he thought it was over for Y/n and that she couldn’t unseat Gally, she wrapped her legs around his waist and used all of her strength to flip him under her. Gally huffed in surprise as his own shoulders were slammed to the ground. Y/n sat on top of him and held him down, grinning triumphantly. “Better luck next time,” she taunted, hopping to her feet and offering Gally a hand to help him up. He brushed off her help and rolled his eyes, stalking away and muttering.
“Whoa,” Thomas muttered, watching Y/n tie back her hair and laugh at something one of the boys had said to her. She was gorgeous. Not just pretty or attractive, but absolutely gorgeous, with sparkling eyes and glossy hair and the most radiant smile. Minho caught her eye and waved her over, and Thomas’s stomach instantly squirmed.
“Easy there, Greenie, I promise she won’t bite,” Newt chuckled, making Thomas’s face turn red.
you approached your friends and the greenie, wiping a bead of sweat from your forehead. “So that makes it 5 and 6, yeah? I’m catching up!” you said, putting your hands on your hips.
“Nice!” Minho exclaimed, high fiving you as Newt slapped you on the back. “Our favorite girl is back in business!”
You laughed and rolled your eyes, ruffling Chuck’s hair, and then turned to the newbie, who had fallen strangely quiet. “Enjoying the party, Greenie?” you asked kindly. The greenie looked up in surprise at being addressed.
“My name’s Thomas,” he corrected smoothly, as though without a second thought. You froze, looking at Minho and Newt with wide eyes. Once Thomas realized what he’d just said, his eyes lit up. “I remember!”
“Yeah you do! Well, welcome to the glade, Thomas. I’m sure we’ll be the very best of friends,” you told him with a wink that made his face turn an even darker shade of red.
“You were awesome in the fight, by the way,” Thomas added, trying not to meet your eyes. You stared him dead on anyways, chuckling and saying,
Yes, I know. What the fuck Ever? It’s been ages since you’ve posted anything! And wasn’t True Beauty just a oneshot? A oneshot you wrote like…a year ago?
Yes. I did write the original oneshot a year ago. Buuut then I got inspired and ran with it. I edited chapter one, by the way, so if you ever read the original oneshot, you should go click on the link above and re-read chapter one. The edits are super subtle, but important.And if you haven’t read chapter 1, you’re going to need to in order to understand this chapter.
(You can skip this author’s note if you want, but it’s pretty important explaining my intentions with this story. But I get it if you don’t wanna read all that, I’m rambly.)
I’ve had an idea in mind for a long time, and I decided to go for it. I’ve noticed there’s a lot of stories,
particularly in this fandom, that portray depression totally wrong. Now,
it isn’t necessarily the author’s fault: depression is a hard thing to
write and understand when you haven’t experienced it yourself. That’s
part of why I’ve decided to write this story. I have depression and
anxiety myself, and not only is this story a great coping method, it’s
also a way to show people who may not fully understand mental illness
what it’s like being in our heads. I also hope to portray how society
treats mentally ill people: especially schools. I’m trying to show the
signs you can look out for, how to help a mentally ill person, and how
sometimes, people truly are oblivious.
Of course, this means this story is going to be a difficult read at
times. The first scene in this chapter could be potentially very
triggering, and perhaps there will be more scenes like this, or even
more graphic scenes. I’m not going to sugarcoat anything. Things may not
have gotten this bad for me, but I’ve seen it happen to many close to
me. Too much media romanticizes mental illness, thinks that a
relationship can cure it. News flash: people in relationships may be
happier, but nothing can magically cure mental illness. It takes time, a
lot of hard work, and potentially medication.
In summary, I’m trying to portray this as realistic as possible. This
is a very extreme case, so not everyone who is mentally ill will act
like Rogue does, but I figured after a chapter like the first, Rogue’s
situation is a difficult one. His actions also add to the common
misconceptions that depressed people are just lazy or bad students.
I am not perfect in any means, there will likely be some inaccuracies
or in some spots it’ll be a bit dramatic. But that’s to be expected, as
no author can write something completely and totally flawless, no
matter how informed they are.
Without further ado, Chapter Two of True Beauty: You’re Proud, but I’m Getting Nowhere. I hope you enjoy.
WARNING: SELF HARM. SKIP THE FIRST SCENE IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU.
Request by @sandlee44 “Jealous Dean, smut and angst”
A/N: Enjoy! Let me know if you want to be tagged in
“Y/N are you ready yet?” Dean was starting to get impatient.
“You said you would be ready in fifteen minutes!”
“Shut up Dean. God you’re annoying, you need to relax.”
Taking a final look in the mirror you adjusted your shirt, making sure just
enough of the girls were showing, and flipped your hair a few times before
opening the door. “I’m done okay? I just need to grab my coat.”
Dean turned and just stared at you as you bent over grabbing
your things. You had remembered to pack your favorite jeans that hugged your curves
just right and your heeled boots made your ass look amazing. The flowy top you
had on showed everything you wanted it to while not being too revealing.
“I’m ready,” you stood and turned to the door, “what are you
staring at? Let’s go, you were just yelling about it a minute ago.”
Dean shook his head, “what? Oh, yeah, let’s go.” Dean held back as you walked, loving the way
your hips swayed.
Serendipitous // Daniel Sharman - Tyler Hoechlin Imagine
Can you write a DanielxReader where they bump into each other somewhere and he takes a liking to her a regrets not asking for her number, the a few weeks later she is on set as a new cast member and he is happy but so nervous and maybe Tyler/Derek gets reveals close to her and you can decide who she ends up with/the ending?
Oh yes I can :) Also, I am going to make this be like around season 3 time, if that’s okay with you.
Warnings: None Word Count: 2,258
It’s been 2 weeks since you’ve moved to L.A and you were still completely awestruck at all of the things this city had to offer you. You aimlessly walked down the boulevard, allowing the California sun to soak into your skin. You still had a few weeks before your schedule would be booked but you were using every second of your free time to explore the city. Moving to L.A was always a dream of yours so when you landed the role as the new character on the hit MTV show, Teen Wolf, you were ecstatic. Obviously, acting was also a huge dream of yours but you would be lying if you said the fact that you were filming in L.A. didn’t make the job seem even more perfect.
You continued walking until to you reached this cozy coffee shop that you discovered last week. You had made it a routine to stop by this place at least once of a day since you found it. The door chimed when you walked in and Sean, the owner, smiled at you when you walked in. “Well if it isn’t my new regular. I was wondering when you were gonna make an appearance today.”
You smiled. “Well wonder no more. Can I have my usual?”
Sean smiled. “Of course.”
You took a seat at on of the tables, pulling out your phone to check your emails. There were only about 3 other people in this coffee shop and you liked the quietness it brought you. You liked the quiet which doesn’t make sense for someone that desperately wanted to live in the busy city of L.A. A few moments later, Sean brought you your favorite drink and you thanked him. You lifted the cup up to your lips when the door chimed again. You looked over to see who walked in, out of pure curiosity, and almost choked on the hot coffee when it was Daniel Sharman who walked into this quiet little place.
A pair of sunglasses covered his eyes, a black v-neck shirt adorned his body along with a pair of dark wash jeans. His hair was perfectly tousled and one corner of his mouth was slightly turned up, almost like he was smirking. He was even more beautiful in person and you felt your blood pressure rise. You were excited to meet the entire cast of Teen Wolf but you obviously had a few favorites and Daniel was one of them. You weren’t expecting to meet him or anyone else for a few more weeks. Do you say something? Do you run and hide? This was way too much anxiety for you.
“Can I have a cup of decaf with just sugar please?” You heard Daniel ask, his accent clearly evident, even that was more perfect in person.
Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Sean and Daniel interacted as if they have been friends for years. Daniel must be considered a regular here too. Sean handed Daniel his coffee and you watched as he retreated to a table across from you. You watched as he removed his sunglasses and perched them on top of his head. You were staring and you figured that probably wasn’t the best approach but it was like you just couldn’t look away.
Daniel suddenly looked up and his eyes landed right on you. You panicked, the heat of your embarrassment rising straight to your cheeks. He just caught you staring at him but to your surprise, he didn’t seem alarmed at all. He gave you a warm smile and you returned it, definitely adverting your eyes after he looked away. A few seconds later, the stool across from you screeched against the floor and you looked up to see Daniel taking a seat across from you. Your eyes practically bugged out of your head and you gulped.
“I have to be honest, I debated with myself for a few seconds before I got up enough nerve to come over here.” He told you, clearly a little nervous.
“Well, I’m glad you did.” You smiled sweetly, silently cursing yourself for not replying with a more clever response.
“I’m Daniel.” He replied. His accent was extremely distracting.
“I know.” You giggled. “I’m Y/N.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.” You always wondered what your name would sound like in a British accent. “I’ve been to this coffee shop many times and I don’t ever remember seeing you here. I always remember pretty faces.”
Damn he was smooth. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks again and you looked down, hoping he wouldn’t see it. “I, uh, actually just moved here a few weeks ago.”
“That would explain the lack of seeing you. What brings you to L.A?” He pondered, bringing his mug up to his lips. His blue eyes stared at you with such curiosity. Daniel Sharman was clearly intrigued by you and that gave you major butterflies.
You opened your mouth to answer but were cut off by the ringing of your cell phone. You looked down to see your manager’s name flashing across the screen. “Shit, I’m sorry, Daniel, I have to take this.”
“No worries.” He smiled at you.
You hopped off the stool and scurried to the corner of the shop, bringing your phone up to your ear. “Hey Kathy, what’s up?”
“Y/N, hey! Uh, I know that I said you would have a couple weeks off to explore the city and what not but Jeff Davis just called me and he wants to know if you’d be up to going to dinner with him and a few other executives? They want to formally introduce themselves and talk to you a little before they just throw you into the show.” Kathy, your manager explained.
Butterflies erupted in your stomach at her words and you found yourself nodding, even though she clearly couldn’t see you. “Oh yeah, of course. When?”
“Uh, actually in about a half hour. Does that work?”
Crap. You looked over at Daniel who was flipping through his phone. You didn’t want to leave him so soon. You wanted to sit there for hours on end and just swoon over his accent as he told you his life story. But this was your boss you were talking about, you couldn’t just ditch him. Plus, it’s not like you weren’t ever going to see Daniel again. In a few short weeks, you were going to be working pretty close with him anyway. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too disappointed or angry but your sudden departure.
plot: Assuming that
BamBam was your blind date, you sat with him and he just goes along with the
flow until your friend calls you that the date was cancelled and BamBam has
some explaining to do of why he didn’t stop you.
Sidenote: has…has this been done yet…pRObAbly??? also the line break is definitely stolen from one
of my fave movies of all time yes goodbye
It’s very few days that the sun decides to dip down in rays,
like little holes in the cloud layers that let out filtered droplets of
sunshine in fabulous columns.
It was a beautiful sight, especially on a day as dull as
Juvia admired the sunlight shafts with interest. Even though
they were beautiful and rare, she could smell it in the air. It was going to
rain later that day, she could feel it.
“He-ey, Juvia, what are you doing?” Lucy, Juvia’s best
friend, asked her, pulling at the gray fabric of her long buttoned jacket
“Nothing,” she spoke, pulling the knitted, frayed edge of
her cotton-candy blue scarf closer to her mouth, somewhat embarrassed that Lucy
had caught her daydreaming.
“I swear,” Lucy drawled, tucking her hands into the
oversized pockets of her jacket. “You’re always daydreaming, don’t you
ever get tired of living in your own little world?” Lucy’s tone was teasing,
but Juvia couldn’t help but feel a jab of insecurity. Lately, she found herself
becoming less and less involved in real life, and more and more immersed in the
wonders of her imagination. As silly as it sounded, she had a habit of getting
lost in her thoughts.
“Not really. I’m pretty good at keeping it interesting.”
Juvia lightly joked, but still, she nursed her wounded pride silently on their
way to school.
Was it really wrong to wish that you lived somewhere else,
somewhere where anything was possible?
Her answer was the quiet, dull screaming of the subway
train. It was the same every day, the same train, the same screeching halt, the
same stop, the same people.
Like a song stuck on repeat, she bobs her head to the beat
of the music, wondering if someone would ever come along and change the tune.
clamo ad te, domine]
“It’s really terrible that they happened to let you sit by a
window.” Lucy snorted on the walk home, she had a habit of walking along
the sidewalk, balancing on the risen pavement like it was a sort of high-stakes
task that took all of her concentration.
“Hmm,” Juvia mumbled in agreement. She had lost track of
pre-calc so many times she was beginning to wonder if maybe she really did
have an imagination problem.
Juvia held her hand out. Two raindrops landed onto the back
of her knuckles and one slid down the expanse of her wrist, meanwhile the other
slid down her middle finger, two completely separate directions for two
identical droplets of water. Odd.
“You’re right.” Juvia agreed, tightening her coat and
shivering. “We should hurry to the station.”
Lucy nodded in acknowledgement, before hopping off the curb
and skipping towards the station stairs a few blocks away.
“So – you know, yesterday Yukino told me something kinda
juicy. Remember that guy you used to date, Bora? Well, he got a new girlfriend,
and she says that Minerva says that he’s trying to make someone
jealous, right? And so I thought – who would he try to make jealous? And
then I was like – duh – you! What do you think? Do you…Juvia? Juvia!”
Juvia blinked rapidly an looked Lucy in her wide, chocolate
“Sorry?” She mumbled, noticing the same confused, dumbstruck
look on Lucy’s face that she made whenever Juvia had missed something
“I don’t get you, Juvia.” She sighed, giving her a
sympathetic look before hurrying down the steps to get out of the now heavy
rain. The skies darkened, and were long void of those delicate rays of sunshine
Juvia had been admiring earlier.
Juvia said nothing in response to Lucy’s comment and only
silently followed her down to the subway station.
The station was only moderately full, and Juvia and Lucy
wasted no time swiping their cards and scurrying to the benches so they could
wallow in the wetness of their clothes and hope that they’d get home soon
enough to avoid catching a cold.
“Hm. Do you think that boy’s cute?” Lucy asked, pointing out
a young blonde boy in his late teens shuffling up by the cross fire.
“I guess.” Juvia muttered half-heartedly.
“Ugh.” Lucy groaned dejectedly, resting her head on
Juvia’s damp shoulder in defeat. “You’re hopeless.”
Juvia felt the rise and fall of Lucy’s chest, the comforting
repetitiveness was almost soothing, accompanied with the harsh screech of the
“Oh, look.” Lucy said, lifting her head and smiling
brightly. “Nice timing!”
Twin lights glowed dimly in the cavern between the train
station and the subway. Juvia brushed some imaginary dust off of her wet coat
and stood up, Lucy mirroring her actions obediently.
“I still think that boy is cute, do you think he’d take me
on a date if I asked him?” Lucy wondered, holding a piece of her hair and
twirling it next to her cheek, a slight habit of hers when she was smitten.
Juvia tried to make a sound of encouragement, something
along the lines of yes, Lucy, you could charm a thousand men with your siren
song, or something that might bring comfort to her already
distraught best friend, but her gaze stopped at the very edge of the station,
where the sharp drop off to the train tracks started.
“Lucy, do you…see…” she whispered, holding her hand out and
swiping, to make sure she wasn’t imagining things.
“Uh…what are you doing?” Lucy asked, like Juvia’s actions
were unbridled and ludicrous.
“Don’t you…see…?” She asked, wishing she could add one last monosyllabic
word to her fractured sentence.
Couldn’t she see him? He was…
The boy was standing, staring out to the opposite end of the
corridor ominously, almost like he was going to jump down, to end his life to
the speeding of the subway, it’d be quick, painless-
“Hey,” she spoke up, stepping forward and cutting past the
ghosts of the people around her. She couldn’t see them – they didn’t matter,
only him, only him-
“Juvia, what are you-“
Lucy’s voice became lost in the crowd, along with everything
else. Time slowed down, the world stopped, it was just her, and him.
He turned, like he had sensed a minor disturbance in his
everyday life and stared at her, eyes as dark as coal and hair like
frayed silk. He stared at her, almost as if he could see straight through her,
straight through her mind and body and directly into her soul.
Her heart paused, like it was trying to remember what it had
been doing just a second ago. Her mouth opened to say something, she didn’t
quite know what, but she knew it had to be something.
His head tilted a fraction to the side, studying her, like
he was confused. Juvia took a few more steps towards him, the reckless abandon
and flurry of strangers behind her long forgotten like a sandcastle too close
to the shore.
Her hand reached out almost as if she wanted to grasp him,
but he was still ten feet in front of
Then, he stopped short. His head darted back to the subway
corridor like he had heard something disturbing.
Then, arms geared back , he stepped forward, three, two,
And he jumped.
The train was seconds away, it was going to hit him,
oh god, why wasn’t anyone else scared, why wasn’t anybody doing anything?
In the midst of her fear gripping her like a well-endowed
sword, she studied the area around her, blank faces, empty voices, it was like
no one could see him, n one could see her, the was just an illusion…
She looked down at her hands and felt her breath come in
Five seconds, five seconds until the train collided with him
– what was he doing? Did he have a death wish?
Without thinking, her mind whirred like clockwork and hr
legs pumped forward, faster and faster, in tune with the ticking of her heart, five
seconds, five seconds to go-
And she jumped.
She collided with the boy, her body making a soft poomf noise
as if she had run into a very squishy pillow instead of a human boy.
He looked down at her, stainless black iron eyes blazing.
His mouth opened, to yell at her, to scream, but no words came out. She yanked
the slippery fabric of his collared jacket so harshly she heard the zipper
break. She shove him face-first, in a snowstorm of adrenaline, onto the ground,
and jumped on top of him.
One second, one second to go.
Her head ducked, she could smell the grease and steam
emitting from the screeching train, no time left, and the last thing she
felt before the blackness was a wildfire in the back of her head and a scream- Lucy’s
scream – echoing across the gaunt corridors, bouncing off the walls and
haunting her memory to the very core.
And then – nothing.
please feel free to murder me for this, will most likely delete in the morning bc katie wtf
Maybe it’s my love of The Martian and the turtles being in space that inspired this - or maybe it’s because I read somewhere a longing for more brotherly support on the show - heehee - but I wrote this today. And I hope you all like it.
An adventure one shot that’s also a love story. ‘Cuz in the words of Pepe from the muppets: ‘I love love.’
Rated K+ - Adventure/Romance/Family - about 3,500 words - apritello
Summary: Space is a dangerous place. The smallest things can go terribly wrong, turning a simple task into a rescue mission, a fight for a brother’s life.
Where he Belongs
The lights flash. Red and yellow and blue and green. Every
color any color. The rhythm matched by the increasing pitch and screech of the
It is all in her head.
There are no alarms, no oscillating lights, nothing to
reflect the tumult within her. Nothing
to measure out the panic she feels.
Her terror is a blank, wordless weight. A translucent stone,
massive like a boulder, settling steadily down against her ribcage, restricting
the flow of air to her lungs, squeezing her heart. Crushing away reason.
Her lips are parted, but it is as though she has forgotten
her line. The script lost.
Mikey’s grip on her wrist is tightening and she wants to ask
him to ease up, but can’t speak. His questions are hammering against her ear drums.
Relentless. He keeps asking the same questions over and over and over again.
“He’ll be okay, right? We’ll get him, right? We can do that,
Fugitoid’s arms are moving across the control panel in a
blur. The beams of his eyes narrow with concentration. Casey is pacing, shaking
his head, in fury at his helplessness or perhaps in denial of such a critical
situation. This has all been nothing but an adventure story, something to laugh
about, speak lines like heroes would in a movie, acting, always acting. But it’s
never been more real than now.
Leo is in a wild, silent, panic, knuckles whitening where he
grips the edge of the sill, staring out of the view-screen as if keeping the
dot that is the ever-receding figure of his brother in his line of sight will
somehow offer a form of protection, and ward against harm.
Sorta UziSaku, I blame @thefreckledone for that as well as the southwestern gothic setting which is tired to my most current aesthetic-obsession. Enjoy :)
Sakura knew the exact second the greyhound bus had crossed into Bloodstone Valley’s borders because of two things. First, the shadows inside the bus stopped moving and became features fixed in place. Second, the vibrations on her wrist, caused by the ticking hands of her watch stopped.
Sakura turned her hand over and saw her watch had frozen in place and began to count. Before she could get to a full minute it began ticking again. The shadows also seemed to free on their own and move with the swaying of the bus.
title: Ghost summary: In which Sakura sees things that she doesn’t want to see. pairing: itasaku
Tell me the things you know to be true. I’ll tell the things I know about you.
A vein began to throb slowly in her temple as the high-pitched voice keened into her ear.
Tell me the things you know to be true. I’ll tell the things I know about you.
She slurped her coffee down in slow, jerking movements. Because if she didn’t-
Tell me the things you know to-
“SHUT UP SHUT UP!” Sakura finally snapped, flinging her coffee cup. It didn’t hit the greyish wisp leaning over her. Rather, the white cup pierced right through it, not even leaving a mark. Coffee splattered across the floor as Sakura jerked her chair forward. And the stupid thing let out a reedy giggle as it dissolved into smoke.
till death do us part (or in this case, a plate of duck l’orange)ㅣyoonmin oneshot
lf Yoongi had not severely fucked up, it would have been a better day.
Note: Yoongi has dope era hair and Jimin has run era hair just for the sake of this.
‘Twenty bucks… if one of you wimps go out there and flirt with one of the guests.’
‘Come ooooon.’ Namjoon waves the note tantalisingly in front of all their faces. ‘Easy cash; plus, I know you wanted that sound system for a long time Yoongi.’
‘Don’t bait me you fucker,’ says Yoongi from where he’s perched up on one of the serving trolleys, arms crossed. He’s not going to be roped into one of Namjoon’s stupid bets; despite the boy’s intellect and genius disposition, Yoongi’s sure he was dropped on the head as a baby.
‘Yeah, come on Yoongi,’ chirps up Hoseok, bent over one of the thousands of duck l’orange. ‘You’ve been whining every day and frankly, I’m about to tear my own ears out.’
‘Hobeom will be pissed.’
‘Hobeom?’ Namjoon wrinkles his nose. ‘Hobeom loves me, please.’
‘That’s true.’ Hoseok wipes away a smidgen of spilt sauce and brings the plate up to his face to inspect the masterpiece. ‘He could serve amputated limbs and Hobeom would still worship the fucking floor he walks on.’
Yoongi jumps off the trolley and begins piling dishes onto the surface. ‘You know, you guys suck.’
‘Well, you would too if you got yourself a little action,’ Hoseok waggles his eyebrows and Namjoon snorts, disguising it as a discreet cough. ‘Yoongi, how old are you, forty-‘
‘I’m twenty-three you ass-‘
‘-and you haven’t kissed anyone. Ever.’ Hoseok puts a consolatory hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. ‘It’s kind of sad.’
‘Take your paw off of me or I will remove it for you.’ Hoseok wisely retracts his hand but it’s soon replaced by the twenty dollar bill that Namjoon was waving around earlier.
‘You know you want it.’
Yoongi glares at the blonde-haired boy. ‘Fuck off.’
‘Why the salt?’ Namjoon throws his hands up in indignation and Hoseok hastily pulls the trolley out of the way. ‘You get money, that system you’ve always whined about, plus someone to take home. And at such a little price.’ He nods sagely.
‘Well why aren’t you annoying Hoseok?’ Yoongi can’t believe he’s being ganged up on. So much for loyalty.
‘Because Hoseok has a boyfriend. Whilst you-‘ Namjoon prods Yoongi in the chest. ‘Are a sad single pringle.’
‘I like being a single pringle.’
‘Yeah, but I suggest you get your ass out there before that pringle goes stale.’ Hoseok slaps a napkin over Yoongi’s shoulder and pushes him out the door with the trolley. ‘Fare thee well, Sir Dick-Searcher!’
Hoseok’s voice fades away when the doors slam shut, which means Yoongi can’t hear Namjoon’s hoots of laughter and there’s no way he can go back inside because that means having to wheel the trolley as well and… effort.
He’s going to shove one of the serving ladles up Hoseok’s punk ass when he’s done though.
Yoongi sighs, feeling the stress of all his twenty-three years of age weigh him down as he wheels the trolley towards the thumping bass.
‘Twenty dollars,’ he mutters as a mantra. ‘Twenty-dollars. Think of the possibilities.’
The image of the sound system and throwing Hoseok and Namjoon into the soup pot cheers him up a bit when he heads to the first table, robotically placing the dishes down in front of the guests.
Today, it’s one of those karaoke style, my-uncle-is-getting-severely-drunk-let’s-remove-him-before-he-molests-the-bride sort, which makes it No. 2 on Yoongi’s ‘Most Despised Types of Weddings’ list.
(No. 1 is the my-uncle-is-getting-severely-drunk-and-molests-the-innocent-waiter).
Right now, said ‘uncle’ is wailing into the mic and Yoongi feels about ready to rip the cord out of the sound system and spare his ears of the horror, though the rest of the families are clapping and screaming along, which doesn’t help.
He allows himself a small grimace when there’s a loud screech and takes a deep breath to steel himself for the next song when he catches sight of a boy with hair as shockingly orange as the sauce on the dishes.
Hoseok and Namjoon’s stupid voices croon their approval in his head while he just stares, a bit creepily he admits.
It’s just because of the hair. Honestly.
Also, he’s is sporting a grimace almost as pronounced as Yoongi’s and he can’t feel but sympathise with the poor boy who’s obviously related to the Mariah Carey uncle and is about to be subjected to a round of the worst pick-up lines from someone who wants nothing more than to punch his dumb friends.
There’s a boy with brown hair sitting next to Orange-Sauce who pokes him in the side and points in Yoongi’s direction. Yoongi hesitates a beat too late and Orange-Sauce whips his head towards him; they make about half a second of eye contact before Yoongi spins around, willing the embarrassing flush from his cheeks. He’s getting paid for serving, not oogling patrons.
The table is full of elderly people and he gets a more than un-welcome whiff of old lady perfume as the woman he’s serving flips around, grey perm flapping in his face.
‘Excuse me boy, I need a new plate.’
Yoongi swallows down years’ worth of scathing remarks and plasters on a smile he hopes isn’t as fake as how he’s feeling. ‘Sorry, ma’am. Is there something wrong with the food?’
‘Yes.’ She stabs a red nailed claw at the duck. ‘It’s undercooked.’
Now, Yoongi isn’t fucking Gordon Ramsay or anything and he’s never cooked anything significantly more advanced than a bowl of ramen but he’s pretty sure, if the meat is brown, then it’s cooked.
‘Ma’am, I can assure you the duck is well done.’
‘No-‘ Oh mother of fucking Jesus. ‘-I can see red. It’s not cooked properly’
‘Ma-am-‘ Yoongi clenches his fist, feeling his smile starting slip precariously. He reasons that punching the old sod wouldn’t do any good. ‘-we have a world-class chef as part of our staff. It would be unacceptable as part of his job to serve anything not up to standard.’
Hyosang would laugh. ‘World-class’ his ass; Hyosang had never stepped foot out of Korea but even Yoongi couldn’t deny his cooking was pretty darn good.
Obviously, the prestigious label didn’t do anything to appease her as she scoffs, thrusting the plate dangerously close to Yoongi’s face. ‘Take it away. Or I’ll report you.’
He briefly wonders what crime he committed in his previous life to deserve this injustice and rattles off a string of mental curses as he takes the plate back in one hand.
‘I’ll be back with a new one. So sorry for all the trouble.’
Hoseok and Namjoon are already plating up desserts and piling them into the fridge when Yoongi stomps in, shoving the empty trolley towards Hoseok and throwing the plate onto the counter.
‘Aw, did he already have a boyfriend?’ Hoseok puts on a sympathetic face. ‘That’s okay, I’m sure the next batch tomorrow would have a hotter-‘
The image of orange hair rises in his mind and Yoongi quickly dispels it. ’I didn’t even get past one table and this fucking grandma decides to have a go at Hyosang’s duck.’
‘Wait.’ Namjoon closes the fridge door and lopes over to Yoongi. ‘Is she ye big, wears too much lipstick, smells like a carpet, has a hideous perm-‘
‘Don’t tell me she’s a regular.’
‘Nup, she’s just the witch in every single Disney movie,’ announces Hyosang, striding into the kitchen whilst wrangling two steaming saucepans. ‘She hates me.’
‘Why? Give her sapodilla or something?’ Hoseok smirks, piling more duck onto the trolley.
Hyosang snorts. ‘It’s salmonella you idiot, and no. Unfortunately, she’s my grandma.’
Yoongi wrinkles his nose. ‘Why the hell is she here?’
‘My cousin’s dad’s family friend’s cousin twice-removed daughter son thing is getting married. Or something like that, I don’t know.’ Hyosang clatters the saucepan onto the stove and begins mixing in a dangerous looking concoction of herbs and spices. ’And yes, I declined attending.’
‘How self-sacrificial.’ Yoongi takes a glance at Namjoon. ‘And how do you know her?’
Namjoon rolls his eyes. ‘She yelled at me once because the creme brûlée was “not refrigerated at the correct temperature.” Anyway-‘ he raises his eyebrows suggestively at Yoongi. ‘You found a target?’
‘That makes me sound like a pedophile.’
‘You might as well be one,’ Hoseok adds unhelpfully. ‘Your hair is the same colour as the cutlery.’
‘It’s white you fucker,’ Yoongi subconsciously reaches up to reach his bleached hair and wonders briefly what it would look like orange before he shakes the stray thought away. ‘And yes, I found one.’
‘Oooh what does he look like?’ Hyosang adopts an overly excited, teenage fangirl tone. ‘Is he hot?’
‘I didn’t see his face properly, I-‘
‘I have a great one-liner app on my phone if you want it.’ Namjoon sniggers.
‘Honestly.’ Yoongi has no time for this bullshit. ‘Just… do something about the stupid duck, before I shoot myself in the head.’
‘Here.’ Hyosang slides the plate across the counter. ‘Give this to her.’
Yoongi takes it suspiciously. ‘What did you do to it?’
Hyosang shrugs. ‘Nothing. She only does it to spite me. Whatever.’ He turns back to the stove. ‘Feel free to spit in it if you want. She’d probably think it’ll enhance the taste.’
The three younger boys visibly shiver and Yoongi turns to go out, dish and trolley in hand. Though the suggestion is tempting, Yoongi truly desires that his DNA serve some higher purpose than the top condiment in someone’s food.
He hears running footsteps and turns around to see Namjoon and Hoseok following after him.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’
‘Witnessing Min Yoongi’s desperation,’ says Namjoon with a shit-eating grin on his face that Yoongi wants to slap off.
‘Fine,’ Yoongi chews on his lip. ‘Then we up the stakes to fifty.’
’Thirty-five and you buy my Americanos for the next month.’
Namjoon sighs. ’You’re so difficult. But fine. Deal.’ He makes a shooing motion with his hands.
Yoongi doesn’t deserve such loving, accommodating friends and flips the finger up at them as a parting gesture. As he’s walking, he steals a glance at Orange-Do’s table, but the boy is in some sort of intense conversation with his friend, hands flailing almost as badly as Namjoon’s. It’s kind of endearing.
‘Ma’am.’ Hyosang’s grandma whips around, perm barely missing Yoongi’s nose. ‘I have your food.’
‘About time.’ She sniffs, allowing Yoongi to place the dish in front of her. ‘I was starving. The service here is terrible.’
Think happy thoughts.
Money, sound-system, Hoseok and Namjoon pulverised, money-
‘We apologise sincerely for your trouble ma’am.’ Yoongi bows and backs away, pulling the trolley to the next table. ‘Also-‘ he calls over his shoulder. ‘Hyosang says hello.’
He smirks over his shoulder at her scandalised look and it would have been quite the puts-on-sunglasses-and-struts-away-from-explosion move if the trolley he was pushing didn’t get caught on the table leg and he ends up with fifty duck l’oranges on the floor, him sailing majestically over a horrified looking woman and landing smack into something hard.
Yoongi is quite content to just leave his face buried in that something and sell his soul straight to the Devil because that’s better than facing the utter humiliation that awaits once he lifts his head, but then that something moves and Yoongi is quite then horrifically aware that he’s in someone’s lap.
‘Um, are you okay there?’
He probably won’t ever be again.
‘Hey.’ There’s a hand on his head, patting somewhat hesitantly. ‘You’re not dead, are you?’
Yoongi lifts his head, vision adjusting to see a boy’s face hovering above his, half-concerned, half-embarrassed with a faint pink dusting his cheeks. He mutters his apologies, ninety percent sure his face is beet-root red as well and gets up, trying to ignore the fact that his face was practically smushed next to the boy’s dick.
He can faintly hear Namjoon and Hoseok cackling in the back and he makes a mental note to murder them in their sleep before the boy he landed in clears his throat and Yoongi snaps back to reality and a shock of orange hair.
It’s Orange Do. Of course it is.
Yoongi winces when he sees the sauce dripping off the ends of the boy’s hair like the dye seeping out. ‘Sorry about that; I’m not usually that clumsy.’ His friend is nowhere to be seen, the seat empty.
The other waiters are running around picking up dishes and the general vicinity has gone back to their chatter, the spectacle of Flying Yoongi wearing off. One of the waiters shoots him a dirty look and he shrugs before turning back to the boy.
‘I saw you were being chewed out by Mrs Jin,’ says Orange-Do conversationally, as if Yoongi hadn’t landed face first into his crotch. ‘Don’t worry, she takes it out on everyone.’
‘So I’ve heard.’ Yoongi nods, scratching the back of his neck and remembering that the boy had caught Yoongi staring unabashedly at him. ‘Sorry about your suit.’
Orange-Do looks down at the mess on his shirt and back up as if he’s seeing it for the first time. ‘It doesn’t matter. I never liked it anyway.’ He rubs a bit of the sauce off with the napkin. ‘I suppose I better apologise for my dad as well.’ Ah, so it was the father. ‘He was never much of a singer.’
‘That’s okay, he um, he wasn’t that bad.’ He was terrible.
‘You don’t have to pretend. I’ve told him multiple times but it never seems to work. Oh well, at least he’s having fun blowing up my eardrums.’
Orange-Do grins and Yoongi is surprised by how bright the boy seems but then Hoseok and Namjoon’s stupid faces appear in his mind and he needs to accomplish his mission before he chickens out.
‘Kid, I’m sorry but…’ He braces himself, thinking of all the worst pick-up lines he’s ever heard come out of Hoseok’s mouth and leans down to whisper in the boy’s ear.
‘…honey, you turn my software-‘
Yoongi can feel the boy tense up and he internally groans. First the shitty karaoke, then the food flying fucking everywhere and now the god-forbidden pick-up lines. He wouldn’t blame the kid if he went running for the hills.
There’s a beat of silence where Yoongi quickly figures out approximately four things that could happen.
Possible events that may occur after humiliating attempt at flirting - A compilation by Min Yoongi.
He gets slapped (highly-likely, considering expression on Orange-Do’s face)
He gets disowned (unlikely, since mother is nowhere to be seen, but still a possibility)
Hoseok and Namjoon dying mysterious deaths (EXTREMELY CERTAIN)
Orange-Do is amused (maybe… it’s the least humiliating thing on this damn list)
Thankfully, it’s option 4 (Namjoon and Hoseok aren’t spared though) and Orange-Do bursts into laughter, confused stare melting away.
It’s a high, twinkling laugh that would have been cute if Yoongi hadn’t been slowly slipping into fifty shades of unhealthy looking reds coupled with the confused stares coming from the rest of the table.
‘Jesus.’ The boy finally stops giggling and smiles beatifically at Yoongi. ‘Aren’t you a little too old for me?’
Yoongi scoffs indignantly, mortification all but forgotten. ‘Excuse me kid, but I’m twenty-three. Still in primary school doing your timetables?’
The smile is replaced by an offended expression. ‘Hey, I’m twenty-one!’
‘Not believing it. You look twelve.’
‘At least my hair isn’t greying,’ snorts Orange-Do. ‘Grandpa.’
‘That’s it. I’m leaving,’ Yoongi turns to leave, bemoaning the lack-of-respect-from-kids-nowadays before he feels a hand tugging on his sleeve, pulling him backwards.
‘Hey, I was just kidding,’ Orange-Do smiles that smile again and Yoongi’s heart just barely misses a beat. It was totally unfair. ‘Were you trying to hit on me?’
Yoongi splutters. ‘I don’t know.’ It’s pretty honest, because he doesn’t know what that epic failure of his flirting game was. ’Still, I’m sorry about that and um… yeah.’ How eloquent. ‘I understand you don’t want to if…’
Since when couldn’t he form basic coherent sentences?
And since when did he apologise?
‘I’m free tomorrow? If you are…’ Orange-Do trails off, looking more than hopeful.
Oh God it actually worked. Yoongi ignores the weird quickening of his heart -is this what it feels like to-ask-someone-out-wow-it’s-so-weird- and arranges his face in what he hopes is nonchalant.
‘Sure kid. I did get duck all over you so consider this a ‘sorry I got shit on your fancy new suit.’ Yoongi makes a face at the mess.
‘It’s a date then!’ grins Orange-Do, leaving Yoongi taken aback. ‘Here.’ He takes out a pen from his pocket and scribbles something on a napkin before stuffing it into Yoongi’s hand. ‘Thanks hyung!’
Yoongi admits a small smile at the boy’s eagerness before tossing him a fresh napkin to mop up the sauce. ‘Clean up kid. I’ll see you around.’
‘Wait!’ Yoongi turns around for the second time. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Oh. Yoongi.’ He clears his throat. ‘Min Yoongi.’
‘It was nice to meet you Yoongi hyung!’ Orange-Do waves. ‘My name’s Jimin! Park Jimin!’
Park Jimin. Cute. Yoongi shoots another small smile at Jimin before walking away, cuffing Hoseok and Namjoon’s heads as he goes and plucks the money out of Namjoon’s disbelieving hands.
Honestly, Yoongi’s never felt better.
He quickly punches in Jimin’s number and saves it under Kid, sending a quick message before stowing it away, Namjoon and Hoseok following him into the kitchen.
‘I can’t believe it.’ Hoseok shakes his head solemnly, jumping up to perch on the counter. ‘My baby, all grown up and taking dick.’
‘Hoseok that’s fucking gross.’ Yoongi snorts. ‘It’s not a date.’
‘Of course it is; did you see his face?’ Hoseok swoons. ‘He’s adorable; nice catch.’
‘He’s not- Jesus fucking Christ,’ Yoongi catches the plate as Namjoon swings around. ‘Watch your tentacles Joonie.’
‘What’s his name?’ Namjoon is oblivious to the near accident as he leans against the fridge.
‘Well, I hope you two live happily ever after,’ proclaimed Hobeom, swinging another pot into the kitchen. ‘But now, you need to get this out there and feed the beasts, since our dear Yoongi had a little…’ He sends a pointed glare towards Yoongi.
Yoongi only flips him the bird and settles down, watching Namjoon and Hoseok giggle over something and leans back, dreaming of orange hair and the beautiful Bose speakers so much closer to his reach.
It’s been a good day.
Jimin covers a smile when he reads the message on his phone, for what seems like the hundredth time.
From: Yoongi-hyung <3
hey brat this is my no.
Read 10:49 p.m.
It’s not romantic or anything but it still sends a rush of giddiness through Jimin.
I’m going on a date tomorrow he thinks, unable to hide the grin anymore.
I have a date with Yoongi hyung.
Just then, Jeongguk sinks back into the seat next to him and opens his mouth to say something but frowns as he sniffs the air.
‘Hyung, why do you smell like duck? And is that… sauce in your hair?’
‘Yep!’ Jimin chirps a little too cheerily, tapping away at his phone. ‘A waiter fell into my lap and we’re going on a date tomorrow.’
‘Right…’ Jeongguk shakes his head, sitting back in his seat. ‘I swear, you take one bathroom break and you miss fucking World War III and Brokeback Mountain in one go.’
Jimin only sighs, sending another message back and closes his phone, ready to pounce once it vibrates.
‘I swear to God…’ His best friend grumbles, taking a sip of his orange juice. ‘Love-sick teenagers.’
Meet me at the coffee shop at 2. Oh, and you have to pay for my dry-cleaning too! <3 <3 i love you hyung! x
Read 10:53 p.m.
Yoongi only exhales resignedly, looking at the money in his hand then at the message on his phone.
The speakers would have to wait.
A/N: I guess this is a little thank you for reaching over 100 followers!
Also yes, I’m sorry IT’S ANOTHER YOONMIN but NEVER FEAR. I’m currently writing a super long jikook so watch out for that :) in the meantime, I’ll just be posting random one-shots and stuff so you don’t get bored.
I hate writer’s block honestly, this oneshot took forever. It wasn’t meant to be this long, but I got carried away oopsie.
Also, I’m sure Hyosang’s grandmother is a lovely woman and I apologise for writing her in a bad light :)
Summary: For the NaLu week prompt “dare” and based on the bonus chapter in which they babysit Asuka.
He said a kiss between them would be no big deal, but to her, it would’ve meant everything.
He dozes in her bed by the open window like not a single bad thing exists in the world and it puts her storming heart at ease. Flakes of midday sun spill through the scratches and cobwebs on her window and settle on his skin. He’s always on fire, she realizes. She wonders if his skin would burn her if she wandered over to him now, as if he absorbed the heat of the sun into his bones.
She shakes her head and returns to her notebook. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
summary: Bucky left you without a warning, but he left a piece of him behind
pairing: bucky x reader
a/n:SEND ME REQUESTS!!!! (pretty please, because my ask box needs some Bucky ones badly and I’m running low on ideas)
The adrenaline that had coursed through Bucky’s veins during the mission he had been on was still pumping through him like a deadly drug, making him believe that if he wanted to, he could run endless miles without stopping once.
The objective had been simple, infiltrate, kill, retrieve, three motivations that Bucky and the rest of his team had carried out flawlessly and now there was one less Hydra base to worry about and Nicholas Fury had the disc he had been sent to steal.
This rush of pumping blood and constructed violence was all Bucky seemed to know, it was all he had known for decades, but he believed that putting his skill set in the hands of Nick Fury and the rest of his SHIELD operatives was a lot better than in the hands of a Nazi organisation.
A/N: Requested. He unexpectedly loses someone he loves very much, and is in a force field of deep shock and guilt. I’m sorry again for anyone going through this and all positive vibes and love are sent out to all of you. It is really sad just thought I’d throw a disclaimer. Enjoy humans ✌️
Calum was your reason to look on the brighter side of life. He was everything you needed and more. He was the fresh air you inhaled on a smothering day. You were one of the few things he never had to think about in his life. He was always positive how he felt about you and knew he loved you and would never find someone to replace you. Ever. It wasn’t even the kind of love that made everyone uncomfortable and playfully telling you guys to tone it down. Everyone was infatuated with you two being together, the golden couple. Never looking down beyond each other and helping one another. You two were often always somehow excluded from big crowds, despite Calum being the social spirit he was. With his busy schedule, it only made the time you spent together even more special. You loved the traditions you followed when he would take you out on dates. They were actually on a rare occasions since he never has the time to actually plan anything out. Usually they would consist of either of you visiting each other’s home and doing nothing but sharing tender and intimate nights. However, on the more elaborate dates, he would take you to a subtle but peaceful lounge type of restraunt, feeding each other small finger foods and sweets alongside candles and happy music. Afterwards he would have you wait in the outside mini tables while he would surprise you with a small gift from a nearby fancy boutique. All of which were memorable and such thoughtful presents. From jewelry to photo albums to fragrances, you could go endlessly on.
Like any other normal day, he was rehearsing for a holiday showing in New York he had in a few days. You patiently watched from the seating area, observing all the little things they went through everyday. You could revise what they did, it was that often you were there accompanying his band. His regular silly antics and acknowledging you in the room. After about 3 hours of continuous “rehearsing”, they called it an afternoon and everyone was off to do their own for the day. You jogged up to the stage and immediately pulled him in an embrace and giggled as he playfully started kissing your neck and face. “You guys are sounding no different everyday.” You joked. “Should I be offended?” He turned to his bandmates smirking. “I wouldn’t because I don’t have a bad note in me.” Ashton said, fake polishing his drum stick. “You beat those drums senseless, that’s a call for help sometimes big boy.” Michael told him, putting his hands on his shoulders. Luke rolled his eyes back to you two. “So what’s going on for you guys tonight?” “Ask this one.” You nodded your head towards your boyfriend. He wrapped his arm tighter around you and smiled. “I guess since today’s an early day, we’ll set off on a special errand.” You couldn’t help but grin at what he was entailing on. “It’s this socialized spot like venue that we always go to.” “The one in that really busy retail street?” “Pretty much. It just looks very high maintence.” They nodded and wished you both a good time and to catch up with them later. “That was quite a surprise.” You let out. “Why not? It’s starting to sprinkle snow and I thought it’d be the perfect mood. Kind of like in the movies you always make me watch.” “Honestly Calum, if you didn’t like them, you wouldn’t know what those dates look like.” You smirked. He shushed you and kissed you. You both went back to get layer up and properly dress up. He never preferred anything special on you, but you wore a new bright red high waisted skirt and black crop top to get into the holiday theme. And to top it, your white coat and subtle black heels. You looked like an old fashioned star and was excited to see Calum wearing his dark boots, a silver necklace, a navy plaid flannel, his regular black jeans with his black coat and beanie to top it off. Little did he know, you had a gift for him waiting in your coat pocket. With all the things he’d gotten you, you thought it was a fair one up to top everything. You insisted on not getting a gift this time but being the generous soul he is, he kept asking you to forget about that possibility. The dinner was going as always. You both spoke and shared your food amongst each other. It was impossible to say you guys had anything left to talk about but that was one of the miracles about your relationship; you guys could keep a spoken conversation and it would shift to anything in between the lines and so on. You finally brought up how you gotten him a surpirse but to close his eyes. You took the small box from your coat pocket and opened it to wrap a silver chain bracelet on his held out wrist. His eyes snapped open at the cold metal touching his skin. “Oh wow… It’s beautiful. It really is. I love it.” The silver chain had a small round locket that opened up. It was a small photo that happened to be one of the first ones you guys had taken together. You didn’t want it to be too cheesy so you placed a silly picture in there. It also happened to be one of the most memorable ones you guys had. It consisted of a wasted night where you both had taken a selfie that went completely unnoticed until weeks later when you found it in your photo album. His eyes were closed and flushed cheeks pressed against the side of your face with both of you giving a wide, dimply, and cuddly smile at the camera. It was a little blurry but it did add a lot of character and filter to it. When he opened it, he burst out laughing with furrowed eyebrows. “Considering I don’t really remember taking this, I’ll give you extra credit for creativity. I love it so much. Really I do. Thank you so much.” He grinned leaning in and giving you a plump kiss. “I love you.” He said in between kisses. “I love you too.” You smiled. You guys shared a dessert and one last drink and were off. “We should call a cab to get home.” He rolled his lip inward and shook his head. “Not yet.” He said gesturing the small table you always waited at while he was gone. “No Calum we’ve been through this all night. I don’t want a gift. I have enough things from you to open my own store and make a living profit.” “Don’t care miss average.” “Calum.” You softly whined, tugging on his arm. “Okay how about this, you pick. I don’t care how inexpensive or lack of it, it is. Just pick something.” You sighed smiling at how sweet he was being. “Okay I’ll go old school. Flowers. That’s it. Okay?” “Okay. I’ll be right back. Wait here.” He said tenderly kissing you with his hands on your face. It was only one street over so you just stood outside the restaurant, legs almost shivering at the wait. You suddenly spotted someone across the street waving at you. You recognized her as your mutual friend from school. “Y/N!” You walked cautiously across the street because of the speeding cars bumping everywhere and caught up to her. You both got into speaking about your holiday break and how it was going. It had been a while since your last encounter, being that she had moved away but she always a big help with the difficult courses and got you through your pitty requirements. Alas she was on a tight schedule and had to leave after a few minutes of speaking and you exchanged numbers. You hadn’t realized you were absent mindedly walking backwards into the street while still shouting small goodbyes to her, you went a lot farther than you intended and tripped on your heel that broke as you crashed against the honking speeding car. Your head smashed through the front window, your body then sliding back to the ground with a loud thud; another honking car driving the opposite direction screeching to try and stop but crushing you entirely as it crashed into the car you ran into. Your friend screaming in shock and running to the accident that had to unfortunately happen before her eyes. She yelled for the people standing by to call an ambulance. However from the look of it, it didn’t seem like that would make much difference. To someone from a street distance, there’s only two smoking and wrecked cars, one with blood stains on it. Calum was walking back to the venue where he had left you, whistling with bright beautiful red roses in his hands. He frowned at the empty sight of yourself and a majority of the people that were there. He jogged towards the crowd of people and smoke rising above them. As he inched closer to the scene, he began to panic more as he couldn’t find you. When he reached the center, he saw what he feared and prayed wouldn’t be there before his eyes. He dropped the flowers on the floor and dropped to his knees next your messy dead body. “Y-Y/N… Oh my god. No no no no.” He croaked out. Not caring of getting any blood on him, he yelled in shock and tears started uncontrollably streaming down his face as he held your lifeless body against his. “You’re not dead, you’re not dead. No baby wake up.” He kept whispering to himself even though he knew it wasn’t going to change what destiny had decided. He bawled out on your shoulder until a paramedic came behind him and gently asked him let you go to be taken away. Another came by to calm him down and remove his hands off you when he ignored them and continued to weep silently. “Come on son.” they helped him up, giving him a cloth to wipe his hands. His red shot eyes remained closed as they led him to the ambulance and sat him down, asking him questions but he only muttered that he didn’t know anything and honestly didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. They kindly accepted his answer and closed the doors behind him. Leaving him next to your body. It was the most difficult thing in the world to even be able to look at you now. So many thoughts running through his mind about how happy and lively you looked only a short while ago. Reality kept surfacing his mind at the fact that you were really gone and weren’t coming back. His warm tears beginning to fill his eyes and burried his head in his hands. The door opened slowly and in came your friend who you last talked to. Her tear strained face softly greeting Calum. He pursed his lips at her, a sort of greeting gesture without speaking. “Calum… I’m so sorry. I feel awful… I think it was one of the most traumatizing things to see.” “You saw it happen?” He asked in surpirse. She sighed and nodded her head. “I honestly feel like if I hadn’t left her alone, she would still be here in my arms on her way home with me. Safe and alive. I’m never forgiving myself for this.” He whimpered. She let tears slip as she saw the broken condition he was in. “No. You can because it had nothing to do with you. She kept speaking to me and wasn’t watching where she was walking. She walked into the street and…” She stopped and covered her mouth with her shaking hands. “If I had just turned around and warned her. She would be okay. It’s all my fault. Like I can’t believe I’m responsible for this…” She said, unable to even look at Calum. “I know she wasn’t half as special to me as she was to you. I can’t even imagine the damage I’ve caused you. I like deserve to feel this way for the rest of my life.” Calum couldn’t even respond and his head remained looking at the floor. He was still processing the first incident and all she was telling him was just boggling his mind to extreme deformity. He felt dizzy and felt an enormous but unexplainable form of loneliness. He wasn’t even sure if he should look past life after your funeral. What would he do? How would he cope? The entire rest of the car ride was silent and he took his time to walk up to the floor you were taken to. He had never walked slower, counting the steps he took. He knew his day would be permanently plastered in his mind forever, the feelings that took place, the cold atomosphere, and the emptiness. He checked his phone and sent out messages to let people know what was up. He sat in the waiting room, folded hands waiting for something he wondered himself. He knew it was done, you were gone, so what was there to feel nervous about. A short while later, Michael suddenly came jogging in and accompanied his weak and shocked friend. He gasped slightly to the sight of blood on his clothes, arms and chest. He didn’t even hesitate to hug him right there and then. Calum couldn’t help but feel the rush of depression come back to him and he started weeping once more. Michael apologized perfusley and started to let tears slip as he saw his friend in the condition he was in. “I don’t even know what to do anymore… I’ve never felt so lost and alone in my life. I… Feel like she’s been gone forever already.” “I know… You don’t deserve this.” He said, squeezing his friend’s shoulders. Luke then walked in, looking around the room and as soon as he saw Calum, he pulled him in a hug. He kept telling him it was alright and to breathe steady. “I’m going to go bring back some tissues and some water.” Michael announced going down the hall. “Ashton’s on his way. He’s freaking out…” “I know the feeling.” Calum muttered, fiddling with his fingers. “I’m not sure we’ll be sticking around for too long. Their just examining her body and I guess moving her again somewhere else.” He sniffled. “You should go see her. Say one last real goodbye… Don’t you think?” “I honestly don’t know if I could handle that without breaking down completely… A small part of me would take that chance so quick but I’m somehow feeling this fear of seeing her again.” “It’s alright. But you should be strong. Do it for her. She’ll appreciate it.” Michael came back with a bottle of water and some tissues. The doctor came back and informed them of the obvious and asked if they wanted to see you one last time. Luke gently patted Calum’s shoulder and nodded.
Calum turned the knob on the door with such fear. Although he knew what he was going to walk into, he still felt like he was going to go in shock once more. They had cleaned up your body and there you laid with a blanket tucked around you pretty well. He hesitantly peeled the upper half off and held your cold pale hand. He nudged it and kissed it once more, tears falling down. “Hi… It’s me,“ he weakly smiled. He stayed silent for few minutes before speaking again. "You know, I’ll never understand why you decided to leave me so soon,” he softly chuckled. “but… I guess… I’ll have to keep reminding myself that He took you away for a good reason,” he sniffled “just so I find happiness within myself someday. But from here on in, your memories will always be my happiness now. I just want you to know that I will never wake up one morning and not miss you. Your beautiful smile, your laugh, your warm touch, your voice… And how it always told me it loved me. I love you… And I miss you already very much.” He sniffled, wiping his tears from his swollen eyelids. “I’ll see you soon baby.” His lips trembles as his breath hitched in his throat. He gently placed your hand back into its place and held you close. He cuddled your lifeless body, staying that way for a long while, absentmindedly crying again and leaving tear stains on your sheets, until a nurse came in and kindly told him it was time to go. He looked at you one last time and knew he would never forget this day. He never intended on this being the last memory of you but he tried to make the most of it in his mind and make it as positive as he could. He thought you looked beautiful no matter what and would only cherish your happy memories. He walked into the hall to see your family all a shocked and upset mess. Your parents embracing each other and weeping. Your mother demanding to know where you were so Calum lead them to the room and let them have their private moment with you. Ashton embraced Calum and made sure to let him know that he was the strongest person he’s ever seen for going through this and being in the shape he is. Ashton himself looked a little tear strained on his face because he was very close to you, being that he was the one that introduced you both to each other. “You don’t have to worry about Y/N’s parents. They told me that her friend Y/F/N had explained everything.” Calum nodded and still decided to wait for your parents to come back and give them his deepest condolences.
———1 week later———–
Calum had felt like he had fallen off the face of the earth several times each and everyday after your accident. His bandmates made sure to pick him up when he was well deep into his sorrows and depression. Respectively giving him the space he needs but also reassuring him that he will never be alone in life after this. He would still text your phone, knowing you wouldn’t answer but it gave him some kind of closure when he felt trapped inside his own mind. He would text you sweet nothings, I miss yous, I love yous, and sometimes even ask how you were doing. The day of funeral came and Calum had never felt more weak. He was pale in the face with dark tinge under his eyes. He was little thinner and he sounded so rough. The funk he was going though made him an unrecognizable person. His dark suit loosely hugging his body, hands folded on his lap, running his thumb over the bracelet you gave him as he sat and listened to everyone speak next to your casket. He patiently listened, feeling almost everything in sight. The light breeze, the trees blowing over from the wind, the negative atomosphere. Your family giving their heart felt speeches of you and the memories you brought. When it was his turn to speak, he didn’t hold back anything. He made sure to thank your family for bringing such a wonderful being into this world and allowing you to be in his life. As well as describing his unconditional and eternal love he now holds onto for you. And lastly thanking you for bringing him the best years of his life and giving him life and constantly reminding him that you love him everyday.