despite the fact that i have always been alone and never shared it with anyone

When I was nine, possibly ten, an author came to our school to talk about writing. His name was Hugh Scott, and I doubt he’s known outside of Scotland. And even then I haven’t seen him on many shelves in recent years in Scotland either. But he wrote wonderfully creepy children’s stories, where the supernatural was scary, but it was the mundane that was truly terrifying. At least to little ten year old me. It was Scooby Doo meets Paranormal Activity with a bonny braw Scottish-ness to it that I’d never experienced before.

I remember him as a gangling man with a wiry beard that made him look older than he probably was, and he carried a leather bag filled with paper. He had a pen too that was shaped like a carrot, and he used it to scribble down notes between answering our (frankly disinterested) questions. We had no idea who he was you see, no one had made an effort to introduce us to his books. We were simply told one morning, ‘class 1b, there is an author here to talk to you about writing’, and this you see was our introduction to creative writing. We’d surpassed finger painting and macaroni collages. It was time to attempt Words That Were Untrue.

You could tell from the look on Mrs M’s face she thought it was a waste of time. I remember her sitting off to one side marking papers while this tall man sat down on our ridiculously short chairs, and tried to talk to us about what it meant to tell a story. She wasn’t big on telling stories, Mrs M. She was also one of the teachers who used to take my books away from me because they were “too complicated” for me, despite the fact that I was reading them with both interest and ease. When dad found out he hit the roof. It’s the one and only time he ever showed up to the school when it wasn’t parents night or the school play. After that she just left me alone, but she made it clear to my parents that she resented the fact that a ten year old used words like ‘ubiquitous’ in their essays. Presumably because she had to look it up.

Anyway, Mr Scott, was doing his best to talk to us while Mrs M made scoffing noises from her corner every so often, and you could just tell he was deflating faster than a bouncy castle at a knife sharpening party, so when he asked if any of us had any further questions and no one put their hand up I felt awful. I knew this was not only insulting but also humiliating, even if we were only little children. So I did the only thing I could think of, put my hand up and said “Why do you write?”

I’d always read about characters blinking owlishly, but I’d never actually seen it before. But that’s what he did, peering down at me from behind his wire rim spectacles and dragging tired fingers through his curly beard. I don’t think he expected anyone to ask why he wrote stories. What he wrote about, and where he got his ideas from maybe, and certainly why he wrote about ghosts and other creepy things, but probably not why do you write. And I think he thought perhaps he could have got away with “because it’s fun, and learning is fun, right kids?!”, but part of me will always remember the way the world shifted ever so slightly as it does when something important is about to happen, and this tall streak of a man looked down at me, narrowed his eyes in an assessing manner and said, “Because people told me not to, and words are important.”

I nodded, very seriously in the way children do, and knew this to be a truth. In my limited experience at that point, I knew certain people (with a sidelong glance to Mrs M who was in turn looking at me as though she’d just known it’d be me that type of question) didn’t like fiction. At least certain types of fiction. I knew for instance that Mrs M liked to read Pride and Prejudice on her lunch break but only because it was sensible fiction, about people that could conceivably be real. The idea that one could not relate to a character simply because they had pointy ears or a jet pack had never occurred to me, and the fact that it’s now twenty years later and people are still arguing about the validity of genre fiction is beyond me, but right there in that little moment, I knew something important had just transpired, with my teacher glaring at me, and this man who told stories to live beginning to smile. After that the audience turned into a two person conversation, with gradually more and more of my classmates joining in because suddenly it was fun. Mrs M was pissed and this bedraggled looking man who might have been Santa after some serious dieting, was starting to enjoy himself. As it turned out we had all of his books in our tiny corner library, and in the words of my friend Andrew “hey there’s a giant spider fighting a ghost on this cover! neat!” and the presentation devolved into chaos as we all began reading different books at once and asking questions about each one. “Does she live?”— “What about the talking trees” —“is the ghost evil?” —“can I go to the bathroom, Miss?” —“Wow neat, more spiders!”

After that we were supposed to sit down, quietly (glare glare) and write a short story to show what we had learned from listening to Mr Scott. I wont pretend I wrote anything remotely good, I was ten and all I could come up with was a story about a magic carrot that made you see words in the dark, but Mr Scott seemed to like it. In fact he seemed to like all of them, probably because they were done with such vibrant enthusiasm in defiance of the people who didn’t want us to.

The following year, when I’d moved into Mrs H’s class—the kind of woman that didn’t take away books from children who loved to read and let them write nonsense in the back of their journals provided they got all their work done—a letter arrived to the school, carefully wedged between several copies of a book which was unheard of at the time, by a new author known as J.K. Rowling. Mrs H remarked that it was strange that an author would send copies of books that weren’t even his to a school, but I knew why he’d done it. I knew before Mrs H even read the letter.

Because words are important. Words are magical. They’re powerful. And that power ought to be shared. There’s no petty rivalry between story tellers, although there’s plenty who try to insinuate it. There’s plenty who try to say some words are more valuable than others, that somehow their meaning is more important because of when it was written and by whom. Those are the same people who laud Shakespeare from the heavens but refuse to acknowledge that the quote “Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them“ is a dick joke.

And although Mr Scott seems to have faded from public literary consumption, I still think about him. I think about his stories, I think about how he recommended another author and sent copies of her books because he knew our school was a puritan shithole that fought against the Wrong Type of Wordes and would never buy them into the library otherwise. But mostly I think about how he looked at a ten year old like an equal and told her words and important, and people will try to keep you from writing them—so write them anyway.

Did you ever have a genuine psychic/medium experience?

Although many readings can be attributed to cold readings or sheer coincidence sometimes it’s uncanny how accurate psychics/mediums can be. Here’s a collection of supposedly genuine experiences from threads. If you have an experience feel free to tag me @sixpenceee!

by reddit user Jinuxxx

I never believe in palm /card readings. I don’t actually believe in it nowadays. BUT when I was in 9th grade, my friend took me with her to a fortune teller so she can have her future read. Surprisingly she mentioned about her love dilemma, a blonde guy and dark haired guy. She was completely convinced about her reading powers while I was meh… We’re teenagers, it’s natural we’ll find ourselves in situations like this. And then she predicted the scores she’ll get at the exams when you finish high school (in our country there are some mandatory subjects for the exams, thus multiple numbers) she guessed that right. If I think really hard about probabilities and stuff I can find a logic explanation to that as well. 

by reddit user GoobyBear22

About 5 years ago I saw a psychic that a family friend had told me was the real deal. I went in skeptical and came out a believer.

She used tarot cards and knew things that could have been lucky guesses, like that I had just bought a house and was renovating it, but she also knew specific things that no one else could have known.

The most amazing part of the whole thing was that she knew that I had some complications with my hormones and had a surgery in the past that would make getting pregnant very difficult, but she told me Despite all this, I would have a baby later in life. Toward the end of the reading she hands me the tarot cards and tells me to shuffle them. Then tells me to ask three questions in my mind one at a time. I decided to really test her authenticity so the first question I decided to ask was am I going to have children, and halfway through laying the five cards down, she stops and looks at me and scolds me saying “I already told you that you were going to have one child!” hah this is when I knew.

by reddit user wobblerss

This was before I was born. My mom had a neighbor who was a grandpa who could see the future. He told my mom that my sister would be really sick when she became a preteen and not to worry because she’d be okay. When my sister was a preteen she was diagnosed with cancer and after a year and a half she was perfectly fine. My mom was pregnant with me when she met him again and he told her that I would be a c-section baby. My mom already knew this and said she had scheduled the c-section already since I was breach but he was adamant that she would have me on a certain day and that the c-section wouldn’t go on the planned day. I was born on the exact day he predicted.

Nothing too crazy but the fact that he knew that my sister would be sick and would be okay is crazy to me. He also didn’t want any money and approached my mom and asked if he could do a reading for her.

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Request: Loved

Request: May I request Mary (season 12 reference) coming to the bunker with dean and meeting the reader (she is a relationship with dean and told his mother about her)? :)

Word count: 1,130

<3

“Dean?” Your voice is barely a breath as you answer the phone, escaping as a transparent cloud on the cool spring air. It can’t be him – Amara and the bomb and Chuck and Rowena and… all of the jumbled, clouded images flit through your head at once and then disappear completely as he speaks again.

“Yeah, it’s me. Y/N, where the hell are you? Were you with Sam?” He cuts to the chase, and you quickly pick up on the panic in his voice – you’d know it anywhere on Earth.

“No.” There’s more shame in the word than you’d like him to hear – it wasn’t that you’d abandoned them. It wasn’t at all. It was more that the goodbye with Dean had been too much for you to bear, and you needed a few hours to be alone with your thoughts. The world may have been saved, but yours had been irreparably shattered, “And I’m about a mile away from the bunker. Probably less.”

“Good. Sam’s gone, there’s blood, and- and-“ His voice sputters and dies, “I can explain when you get here. Can you just…?”

You don’t have to pause, “Give me a minute. Maybe five.” You tell him, and then he’s ended the call – and that’s how you know it’s him, not some sick perversion like it was last time or a cheap imitation: there’s no goodbye, no ‘see you soon’. That’s it, it’s a given that you’ll be there.

***

“Dean?” The door creaks and clanks as you haul it open, gun in one hand. You creep down the stairs, not quite knowing what threat to expect, if any. However, by the time he’s taken three steps out of the war room, you’re on him, throwing your arms around his neck as the gun clatters to the floor and his arms wrap you up, strong and safe, lifting your feet clean off the ground. Dean buries his face into your shoulder, vaguely reminiscent of the hug you’d last shared – except this one is joy and relief, where the other had been sorrow and fear.

“God, Y/N.” His breath is warm and face scratchy and he’s alive. The last thing in the universe that you want to do is pull away, but when you finally open your eyes and look over his shoulder, you’re startled into pulling back.

A blonde woman stands behind him, watching you both with a mixture of intense confusion and affectionate amusement. You look from her, to Dean, and then back to her – for one, she’s wearing your shirt, and for another, she looks familiar in a way you can’t place.

“Y/N,” His arm remains tight around your waist, although he does let you back down onto the floor, “Meet my mom, Mary. Mom, this is Y/N.”

She quirks an eyebrow, and for a split second you realise that the mannerism belongs to Dean – many of her features do, in fact. It’s only then do you recognise her as the woman from the photographs Dean never has out of arm’s reach.

“This is Y/N?” She asks, and Dean nods in confirmation, smiling proudly – like this is a moment he’d always wished for; to introduce his girlfriend to his mother. Mary takes a slow step forward, looking you up and down – not scrutinising, but examining. Wanting to familiarise herself with you.

“You mentioned me?” You glance up at Dean, but his mother cuts in before he can even think of an answer.

“Oh, you’re all he mentioned. I was starting to think I’d had another child I didn’t remember until he specified that you were his girlfriend,” She smiles, and you can’t help but laugh a little at that, “Oh, Y/N, you’ll love Y/N. She’s so beautiful and smart and funny and…”

“Mom!” Dean interrupts indignantly, his face flushed red. Both you and Mary manage a laugh at that, despite the situation at hand – but the confusion and anxiety soon cloud her features again, and you look between the two of them for a few moments.

“Dean, babe, have you tried calling Cas? He came back here with Sam, and if that’s an angel-banishing sigil I see over there, he definitely was here.” You offer, lifting up to kiss his cheek before withdrawing, “Mary, I feel like you could use a cup of tea… milk and extra honey?”

For just a moment, she hesitates, looking between the two of you – and then she nods, relief flooding her features – an excuse to avoid the stressful situation for a little while, and to get her out of Dean’s high expectations so she can take a few breaths. You couldn’t be happier for him, but you know as well as anyone that he can be a bit of an overexcited puppy every now and again.

***

“So… you’ve done this before?” She asks, heaping more honey into the tea. You nod, giving a small smile and sipping your drink slowly.

“Once or twice. Sam and Dean have too, but we all lost count a few times ago.” At the look of horror on her face, you reach over and rest your hand over hers – the idea of her sons dying and coming back must be awful to her. Especially when her own experience of it seems to be going less than smoothly for her, “They always seem to come back. Dean always used to say it’s because angels were watching over them.”

Mary’s eyes widen slightly at her own words being echoed back from the mouth of an outsider, but she doesn’t seem to have the words of her own.

“There isn’t a day goes by when he doesn’t think about you.” You tell her softly, giving a small smile, “Don’t take that as pressure. But take it to know that you’re loved here, and always have been. I get it, fitting back in can be awkward. But I’m here, and so are Sam and Dean. And if you need to be stupid and quiet and go and get our nails done or do something menial, I’m always up for a girls’ day out.”

Again, she only seems to stare at you, and you fear that you’ve overstepped the mark – after all, you’re practically a stranger to her. But, instead, after a few moments, a wide, warm smile spreads over her face and her eyes wrinkle in exactly the same way that Dean’s do.

“I get it.” She says softly, her eyes twinkling, “I understand completely… what he sees in you. Why he loves you so much. Why you love him.”

All of those thoughts you’d had, growing up, about meeting your boyfriend’s parents and trying to impress them… this couldn’t be further from that if it tried. But you wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

Victor has always been a fascinating character for me. And I’ve been thinking a lot about why I find his character so interesting. So in honor of @viktorweek (and specifically prompt 2 ‘Past’ and prompt 4 ‘Family/Friends’), here are some thoughts on my favorite romantic sadsack. 

Perhaps one reason I love Victor as a character is because when I started watching the show I expected something very different from what we got. In the first episode, we as the audience are introduced to Victor Nikiforov, top athlete and celebrity. This Victor is cool, calm, collected. This Victor throws a flirtatious wink at his fans and melts hearts worldwide. This Victor only smiles when he’s on the ice, receiving adulation for his prowess, and is quiet and contemplative in interviews and in his home.

And then of course, we meet the real Victor, the one who danced drunkenly with a stranger and then moved into his house after watching a fateful internet video. The real Victor is absolutely ridiculous. He’s a hedonist. He loves good food, good alcohol, and being comfortable. He lounges about in a loose robe and immediately buys a sofa to fit in his tiny guest room. He relaxes in a hot spring every night and waxes poetic about the beauty of the ocean. And he is unabashedly, overwhelmingly enthusiastic about his interests. He’s delighted by so many things, he loves to be a tourist and enjoy new sights and places. He revels in the drama of competition and approaches every challenge in as over-the-top manner as possible. He thinks about the people he knows in terms of grandiose metaphors and fairy tales.

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Imagine Dean Finding Your Sketchbook...

Word Count: Around 2500

Warnings: None other than fluff :)

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam

Pairing: Dean x Reader

A/N: This one really ran away from me, it was supposed to be kind of short…but enjoy! Maybe this will appease y’all while I work on the new part of Through the Flames

***This fic is pretty thrown together, I just wanted to give you guys something since it takes me such a long ass time to update

Summary: The reader has a sketchbook full of drawings of Dean. After a hunt, to the reader’s horror and embarrassment, she finds Dean with his nose in her sketchbook.

There was never much privacy in your life with the Winchesters. Every time you turned around one of them was always right there. On most days, that wasn’t a bad thing- especially on hunts. You knew they’d always have your back, that you were never alone. It was comforting really, comforting on those days that you needed someone when everything seemed to go wrong. Sam always had kind words of advice and assurance and Dean wouldn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you. You couldn’t help but love the fact that they were always there.

You also couldn’t help but hate the fact that they were always there. You’d started to develop a kind of sixth sense whenever one of them was nearby, you could just feel them lurking. It was more of Dean than anything, Sam knew enough to let you be.

Dean loved to hover. You decided that this was because he was such a mother hen, but you eventually came to another conclusion. Dean Winchester was sometimes too curious for your liking. You figured that at some point he’d learn his lesson because, as you had pointed out to him more than once- curiosity killed the cat.

As annoying as it could be at times, he wasn’t hurting anyone when he would lean over your shoulder to see what you were watching on Sam’s laptop. The one time he had followed you to yoga class to see where you’d been disappearing to all week wasn’t even that big of a deal either. Despite the fact that he could have just asked you, you dropped it and let him go with nothing more than a whack with your yoga mat.

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anonymous asked:

It sounds super angsty, but if you haven't already written it, maybe an unrequited, one-sided love thing between the RFA guys and MC?

I’ve been really busy lately, sorry :C 

Warning: Angst/Heartbreak

–R.I.


Yoosung

He was so welcoming, warmly including you in everything

He would text you all the time, venting his frustrations about LOLOL—he trusted you out of all the RFA, after all

Soon, it turned into calls, where he happily chatted away to you as he gamed

“Pffft hahaha, you’re so funny, MC!! You always make my gaming nights better…” his enthusiastic response made your heart race. “I love talking to you, MC.”

You took pride in that.

He became more and more special to you, and it warmed your heart every time you talked to him. You wanted to learn more about him.

He always took interest in what you said, and listened attentively even to your pointless, frustrated rants. He sincerely responded to your concerns, and often brought up inside jokes in the chat room, forming a barrier between the two of you and everyone else.

A special little world that nobody else could enter.

“I can’t wait to meet you,” he shyly told you. It was finally the day before the RFA party. Your heart beat quickly, warm fuzziness bubbling in your chest.

“Yoosung… I have something to tell you tomorrow,” you decided, blushing as you told him. He was the one who made you feel happy…the one who cracked jokes and made you laugh on your gloomiest days… the one who listened to all your troubles. He hummed softly, murmuring, “Okay. There’s something I’ve also been meaning to tell you, too. I’m worried if I’ll be rejected but… I can’t hold back anymore.”

That night, you couldn’t sleep from pure anticipating of the next day. You woke up early to make yourself look as pretty as possible for Yoosung. First impressions were important, after all.

Upon arriving at the party hall, you immediately recognized him—you were in love with him, after all. You called out to him happily, and he rushed over with a big smile on his face, but it almost immediately turned into a frown as he reached you.

“You’re Yoosung, right?! I’m MC!” you exclaimed, beaming happily.

“I see. You look… different than I thought you would,” he murmured, a distant look in his eyes as he avoided your gaze. “I thought you’d maybe have like, blonde hair and green eyes, or something.”

Your heart caught in your throat as soon as the words left his mouth. Rika. He’d expected you to look like Rika. Biting back tears, you forced a giggle, as if he’d just said something funny.

“So, what did you want to tell me?” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t really have time to talk, so can you make it quick?”

Yoosung seemed so annoyed and irritated by your mere presence, guiltlessly expressing it in his words, tone and body language. It was a complete turnaround from the sweet boy you had known for the last few weeks. Correction: the sweet boy you thought you had known.

“Nothing important,” you muttered, clenching your fists as tears spilled from your eyes. “I was in love with you. I am in love with you. And I guess I know now that you’ll never feel the same.”

He stared back expressionlessly at you. “Love? I’m sorry, but it’s impossible for me to ever like you back. You’re really far off from my type,” he laughed as if it was a joke.

You couldn’t figure out what the hell was so funny. He was laughing at the way you had felt for him for months. He was laughing at the feelings you had cherished. He was laughing at you.

And it only smashed what remained of your heart to smithereens.

He was never in love with you.

Zen

From the moment you first met him, he’d been flirty and welcoming to you. He was always protective of you in the chatrooms, and he called you often to check up on you, asking things like:

“MC, have you eaten today? I hope you’re taking care of yourself properly, I’ll get worried, you know…”

“Hey… Can you see the moon from where you are? When you look at the moon at night, I want you to think of me… watching over you like your very own guardian angel. If you ever need anything, you know that I’m here right?”

“Do I need to beat up Jumin for you?! He was being way too insensitive just now!”

Naturally, you felt gravitated to Zen. He made you feel so… secure. He was always offering to help you, talking with you late at night, comforting you when you were sad… He made you feel so damn special. He sure didn’t treat Jaehee like this, and you took quiet, guilty pride in that.

A week after you realized that you had fallen in love with him—his caring personality, his deep thoughts, his laugh, his passion for acting… his everything—he asked you out on a date.

You almost screamed into your pillow from excitement. Did he like you back?! Could Zen possibly return your feelings?

You waited for him in the cafe, your eyes anxiously searching for his figure. You had taken 3 hours to braid your own hair (with great difficulty), and chose the perfect outfit to meet with him for the date. You waited 2 hours for him, sitting all alone. But he never came.

You dialled his phone number, wondering if he was stuck in traffic or late from rehearsals. He picked up on the second tone, drunkenly answering, “Mmn… hello, who’s this?”

“Um, Zen? It’s me, MC… did something happen? I’m still waiting…”

He howled in laughter, sounding like he was really enjoying himself. “You’re still waiting?! What the fuck, woman, what makes you think you’re anything special to me? I was only betting with my friend that I could make you fall for me. I can’t believe you fell for it so easily.”

He continued to laugh, finding it absolutely hilarious that you believed his nice guy act. He had purposely stood you up. Rather, he never intended to come in the first place.

His words were like a slap to your face. It was obvious now.

Zen didn’t care about you at all.

You stayed quiet, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that you were actually crying right now.

You had wasted so much time on him. All because you liked him, and because you thought he could even possibly like you back.

“Helloooo? Are you still there?” he hiccupped.

You couldn’t answer, holding back your sobs.

“Oh right, anyway, thanks for helping me win the bet. Haha, byeee!”

“Yeah. No problem. Anything for you, Zen,” you weakly replied, sarcasm hidden in your undertone.

But it was true. You would have done anything for him. He’d just never do the same for you.

Jumin

From the start, you’d been attracted to his unique sense of humour, awkward personality, and passion for cats. Not to mention, he was pretty fucking rich.

Although you weren’t after him for the money, you had to admit, it was part of what interested you at first. Emphasis on “at first.”

After spending evenings at fancy dinners with him, long nights drinking in bars after work hours, and occasionally messaging each other every day possible… you realized how much more there was to Jumin than you’d originally thought.

Although he seemed carefree and pushed all the tasks to Jaehee, he actually drowned himself in work for hours as well. When you spent time together, he would always be jotting down notes and reading printed documents as he conversed with you—he was probably used to it from discussing business deals all the time.

Not to mention, he was very attached to his cat because he didn’t have the time nor opportunity to interact with anyone that wasn’t trying to conduct business with him. You could feel your own heart hurt for him, realizing how lonely he must be.

Not to mention the fact that there were many young men (such as Zen,) who thought of Jumin as a rich snob, and was against the idea of being friendly. You could only imagine how rejected Jumin must feel, despite acting nonchalant every time.

Your heart and mind was consumed with thoughts of Jumin, of how he felt, of how he was suffering… You yearned to know him better, and you found yourself being more eager than ever in your conversations and nights out together.

One night, you finally brought up the courage to bring up the topic of himself. Excited to share your opinion, you said, “You know, I completely understand that you must feel lonely and all, even though you never mention it! It must suck that nobody understands you… You’re always working so hard, and nobody ever acknowledges it, but I know that-“

He paused mid-sip from his wine, then slowly put the glass down. “MC.” His voice was cold, stern and almost tired. “Why are you saying this?”

You blushed. “Well… I mean… I guess I’ve fallen in love with you,” you whispered, looking shyly into your lap. “I’ve learned so much about you over all this time, and-“

He scoffs, eyes hardening into a glare. “MC… Do you really believe that you know me?” he asks, shaking his head in disbelief. “Everything that you just said… is it not simply your idea of me? You’re not in love with me, MC. You’re in love with the ideal version of me that you’ve created in your own head. Could you be any more delusional and hypocritical when you say that no one understands me? You don’t know me either, MC. Don’t fool yourself otherwise.”

You return his glare with a pleading gaze. “That’s not it, Jumin! I really do understand! I’m not assuming, but it’s just what I’ve realized after spending so much time with you-“

Again, he cut you off. He seemed to be doing that a lot today.

“I only spent time with you to ensure that you would remain subservient to the RFA. Our meetings were like business to me, MC.”

He stood up, turning to leave you alone at the table. A lone $100 bill was all that sat with you.

Seven

This kid was absolutely hilarious! He took on such a cheerful persona in the chatrooms, cracking jokes at random and spamming memes everywhere. But he really did make you laugh.

On days when you felt gloomy, tired of every little thing that was happening in your life, and overall upset, Seven managed to cheer you up, sending you cute texts. They ranged from, “Your Defender of Justice, SEVEN OH SEVEN, will protect your happiness!!” to pictures of his own cosplay, where he attempted (attempted.) to look seductive.

He quickly gained a special place in your heart. Not everyone managed to cheer you up just like that.

One day after the RFA party, Seven invited everyone to the zoo. During the trip, you kept trying to get closer to him, standing near him as you pretended to be awed by the penguins… ‘accidentally’ bumping into him… lying that you didn’t have money to buy a drink and asking to share…

(Although, FYI, that last one didn’t work. Why? Well, the trust fund kid was there, duh.)

Seven drove you and Yoosung home, considering Zen took his motorcycle, and Jaehee tagged along with Jumin to return to the office. After Yoosung left, you were nervous to be alone with the man that you’d grown feelings for.

Almost as if reading your mind, Seven broke the silence, “MC. I’m not suggesting that this is possible, but if you think that you have any sort of feelings for me, please forget it. I… will never fall in love.”

You stared at him quietly, unsure what to say. You hadn’t been TOO obvious in expressing your feelings… you’d really as subtle as subtle could get!

Instead, you opted for, “I don’t get what you’re talking about?”

He glanced at you from the side before turning his eyes back to the road. “You can ignore what I’m saying if you haven’t had any weird thoughts about us being anything more than friends. But otherwise, just be aware that I’ll never fall in love with anyone okay? This isn’t some crappy fairytale. It’s real life, and you’re not going to waltz into my life and change it.”

You nodded slowly, avoiding looking in his direction. “Uhm, yeah…” you awkwardly responded, voice barely above a whisper.

What the hell were you supposed to say? You’d been rejected before you even had the chance to confess. Haha. Ahaha.

The tears welled up in your eyes before you knew it. But you couldn’t let him see. At the very least, you wouldn’t let him know how his words had affected you. You wouldn’t let him know that you actually had fallen in love with him, that his warning came too late.

You wouldn’t allow yourself to ruin the friendship between you two. Seven was too important to you.

You dashed out of his car as soon as he pulled over on your street, not even daring to say goodbye.

Beauty || Clay Jensen x Chubby!Reader

Anon, you don’t know how happy it makes me to know that people like my writing enough to actually binge read it. 😭👌 I can definitely do this. One thing I can’t stand in chubby!reader imagines is when they make you just despise yourself. Like, if you’re not the recommended weight, you automatically have to hate your body. I’ve been wanting to write one for that exact reason.

Word Count: 905

Warnings: Marcus Being a Douche

~


    Ask anyone in Liberty High, and they’d all tell you the same thing; no one went without getting their fair share of bullying. Except, that is, for the bullies, and the people with targets on their heads, they got twice as much. Like Hannah Baker, who never could seem to keep herself out of the rumors. Or Tyler Down, who was shunned by everyone for the sole reason that Justin Foley told them to.

    You were one of the handful of girls in the school who weren’t the average size of what many called the populars, but it didn’t seem to dent your reputation by much. You were liked by a lot of people, many of them being guys, despite the stigma that claimed ‘you can’t get a man unless you’re thin.’

    You opposed anything and everything that promoted shedding weight for the enjoyment of others. If you’re going to lose weight, you should do it for yourself. Because you want to, not because you think you’re not beautiful unless you do.

    There were plenty of scientifically backed reasons as to why just because someone has a bit of extra meat on them, that does not mean they’re not healthy. In fact, you prided yourself on being able to beat Sheri Holland in short and long distance sprints.

    Of course, things had to get bad at least once. It was the emergence of Alex’s list that had you marked down as thunder thighs. Despite you being able to shrug it off within the first few hours, that didn’t stop wandering eyes from finding you in the halls.

    Nothing you weren’t used to, of course. You’d been in middle school for three years, and that was way worse. But when things started to turn physical, you found it a lot harder to ignore.

    An encounter with Marcus outside of the girls’ bathroom nearly had you willing to go to the principal, as unhelpful as that crabby old man was.

    You had just stuffed all of your books into your locker, preparing to head to gym class, when you decided to get a drink of water. You were leaned over the fountain when it happened. Marcus was right behind you, hands squeezing at your thighs. He made a noise that sounded like a mix between a snort and a scoff.

    “I can see why you’re on Alex’s lists, Y/N. I mean, damn,” he said condescendingly. “How many guys have you smothered with these things?”

    You were about to reply with an indignant, but not uncalled for, fuck you when he was suddenly wrenched away.

    You spun around, relieved to see the familiar faces of Jeff and Clay. Jeff had Marcus by the collar of his shirt, looking like he was about to knock his lights out. You took a step towards him, grabbing his arm.

    “It’s fine,” you said. “He’s not worth you getting expelled.”

    “No, it’s not fine,” Clay responded, sounding a whole lot angrier than you were. “Stay away from her, Marcus. If we see you do anything like that again, the two of us are going to report you for sexual harassment. We’ll see how good that looks on your perfect record.”

    Jeff let him go, giving him a rough push backwards. Marcus nearly tripped over his own two feet trying to scramble away.

    “Thanks,” Clay murmured.

     "No problem,  buddy. If you see him creeping around her again, let me know.“Jeff replied, striding away towards the stairs "See you two at gym.”

    When you and Clay had been left alone, you nudged his shoulder. “You two are awesome, you know that?”

    He smiled weakly. “Jeff’s the awesome one.”

    “No, I meant what I said,” you replied. “Clay, when you get all that I do, you learn not to underestimate people. Jeff’s got strength, but you have brains. Threatening Marcus’s record was beautiful. Did you see the look on his face?”

    He laughed, nodding, “Okay, yeah. That was pretty good.”

    The two of you stood there for a moment. You watched him awkwardly shift from one foot to another, looking like he was trying to decide how to say something. You nudged him again, and when his gaze met yours you gave him a reassuring look.

    “I can see you’re struggling with something. Tell me,” you said softly.

    “Well, I just… wanted you know that, um,” he cleared his throat. “You shouldn’t let some stupid list make you feel bad. I think you’re more beautiful than any of the girls in this school.”

    Your cheeks warmed. You looked down at your feet, trying to hide the stupid grin that had broken out on your face. “Thank you, Clay. You don’t have to worry, though. I’m not ashamed of my body, and that includes my ’thunder thighs’.”

    His hand slipped beneath your chin, tipping your head up to look him in the eyes. “You don’t have-” he breathed a deep sigh. “I think thick thighs are sexy.”

    You laughed. “Well, then I’d be the perfect girl for you.”

    “I think you would be,” Clay replied, sounding completely serious.

    Your smile faded. For as long as you could remember, you’d had the biggest crush on him. He was always the perfect boy. He was tall, lean, and handsome like the populars, but without the bitterness, and ten times the brains. “Clay?” you asked. “Would you want to maybe… go on a date sometime?”

    His tensed shoulders instantly relaxed. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

timing (jughead jones x reader)

11

pairing: jughead jones x reader

word count: 956

request: hello i love your blog and i hope your week has been wonderful and i hope your next one will be as well!! also, may i request a jughead x reader (i just lóve him) in which the reader is a lot like audrey hepburn and juggy likes her a lot but doesnt feel good enough for her and then they get drunk off of red wine and the reader maybe lits up a cig and juggy watches her and then just whispers “dear god i love you” but the reader hears it? i hope you understand thank you so much 💞

He noticed something the first time he looked at you: a type of grace that flowed through your limbs, charismatic highs and lows to your voice, and the way you dressed like a cross between Betty and Veronica. “Has anyone ever told you you’re like someone out of a movie?” He asked you, sitting across from you in the booth at Pops.

You shrugged. “I’ve heard some things like that.”

You were instantly great friends, but unfortunately for him, he was not the only one to notice something when they looked at you. You caught a lot of people’s attention, but Jughead liked to think that they just noticed how you looked, or the way you walked, or something simple. Meanwhile, he noticed everything— your care for others, the way you spoke out even when your voice broke, the way you could be both so determined and playful, everything.

He felt like he wasn’t good enough for you and figured he should just leave you alone so he didn’t develop a weird obsession. But he never did develop an obsession, and something magnetized you to each other so neither of you felt like you could let go even if you tried. You had the same classes, the same group of friends, and took up the same space.

“I got us something,” You pulled out a bottle of red wine, and two plastic cups, and Jughead laughed— a deep, full, throwing-your-head-back laugh.

The space you were currently taking up was the roof of the shack at the drive-in. It was the last night it would be open, and Jughead probably should have been more afraid of the fact than he currently was, but you were a good distraction. Or maybe it wasn’t you that was distracting him, and it was actually the alcohol you had smuggled and shared.

“You know, I’m really sad about this place being demolished, and I haven’t even been here that long.” You sighed. “So I can only imagine how you feel.”

“I feel just fine,” Jughead insisted sarcastically.

“Protesting, meeting with the mayor, only things a very fine person would do,” You agreed back, a slight grin on your face.

“Yeah,” Jughead breathed, trying not to get caught up in your smile, and the way you may or may not have just called him very fine.

“Well, there’s only one thing to do when you’re sad,” You turned back to rummage through your bag.

“I thought we were already doing that,” Jughead raised his red-wine-filled plastic cup.

“Maybe for the blues, but nowhere near enough for the mean reds,” You firmly stated.

With that sentence it clicked in Jughead’s mind who you reminded him of— Audrey Hepburn. Yet somehow, when you pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, he was surprised. “Really?”

You lit the cigarette and took a long, biologically suicidal, aesthetically pleasing drag. “You don’t know everything about me, Jones. Though you’ve gotten surprisingly close.”

It was ridiculous how much every little thing you did enchanted him, and he smirked incredulously. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe you were real— you had many flaws, and they were evident to him, and he didn’t condone the lung cancer but it sure was a surprising trait. “God, I’m in love with you,” He murmured to himself, figuring you wouldn’t hear him, as you usually didn’t once it became this late, and he became this desperate.

“What?” You snapped your head towards him abruptly, not believing your ears.

“I—“ Jughead was about to clumsily attempt to cover up his excuse, but you didn’t seem as intoxicated as usual, and he figured that if you were going to be brave and passionate all the time— he should try to be, too. He paused for a moment, swallowing hard until he just said it— “I’m in love with you.”

“You sure that’s not just the…” You gestured to his wine cup. “Mean reds talking?”

“I’m sure. I know. I am in love with you, (Y/N).” He said it with conviction— now that it was already out there, it was easy to say it over and over, and it felt right. It felt good, and he wanted to say it a million times.

You were taken aback by his sudden shift in nature. “Well, I’ve never heard anyone say it to me like that before.”

“What do you mean?” He moved closer to you. “Say it how?“

“Honestly.”

“So…?” Jughead trailed, still awaiting a response.

You looked to the big screen for a moment, and noticed it was almost over. You grabbed Jughead by the hand and stood up, pulling him up with you. You saw he still had a fearful look on his face. “Don’t worry,” You assured him. “I’m just waiting for something.”

“For what?” He asked, moving closer to you, his arms circled around your waist now, holding you close despite your lack of reciprocation.

As soon as the movie’s end music began, you pressed your lips against his suddenly. You took off his beanie with one hand, the other running your fingers through it, pulling at his hair as he moaned into your mouth. When you pulled away, you gasped a little. When he starred into your eyes deeply, you turned your head to see the words “the end” showing on the screen. “Timing,” you whispered, pressing the beanie into is chest. You saw him hold it there above his heart with both hands, wonderstruck, before turning on your heel and walking away from him.

You liked him, but you didn’t love him— it was always harder than that to get an Audrey-Hepurn-esque girl to fall in love with you. But you smiled, knowing that in time, you would.

tag list: @evalocity @potter-the-marauder@jxggie-jxnes@casismyguardianangel@itsjaynebird@jugbug-imagine@duchessdaisybat @maydayveins @heir-of-light-33 @theselfishllama

Shall We Test That? (Loki/Thor x reader)

Request: phantomsmenace said: hi bonnie! i was wondering if you could write one where during the events of the first avengers movie where Loki tries to protect you while everything is going on? either romantic or platonic? thank you!! 

“It’s an impressive cage. Not built, I think, for me.”

Loki heard Fury reply to his taunting, but he didn’t hear the words from his mouth.  In fact, he barely knew what he, himself, had just said. He was simply buying time, waiting for the moment when the Hulk would take center stage against a team that was barely his own, and when Loki could be free to make his escape.  He didn’t care at all about anyone on this floating fortress other than one; he only cared about where they were holding you and how he would reach you.  If his connection to Barton was holding, the archer would already be following his orders to retrieve you and keep you safe.

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3

what i’m loving the most about this scene is that, despite the non-existent history between these two, emori and clarke create this very big contrast between each other: the one who wasn’t loved (emori) vs. the one who was loved (clarke), and the one who thinks they have no choice “you think i have a choice?” (emori) vs. the one who has realized that they always have a choice (clarke).

i love that clarke gets this very close view into emori’s life, because i always found it to be necessary for her to talk to someone on this level - more as an individual who gets to have a heart-to-heart, rather than a leader. it’s not just emori truthfully opening up in this scene about her experiences, insecurities and rage and other types of emotions, but also clarke, who is pushed into a rather sincere communication (if you look at things from her pov) which she initiates.

the things she shares with the audience and emori are so terrifyingly honest - e.g from the things she’s done as a leader and the fact that she can never understand what it feels like to be emori, to be truly alone; the conclusion she shares “but i do know what it feels like”, which harkens back to her first scene with abby where her mother tells her that “no. we have to make a choice” when clarke thinks they have no other choice than to just go along with whatever they need to do; the courage to embrace that truth about herself in these tiny steps; how the narrative highlights how she feels; and how her emotions in regards to her actions don’t even line up with the image of “the commander of death” that emori now places upon herself, because that title has always been less a descriptor of something clarke inherently is and more as something she’s perceived as due to what she has done. the writers make such good use of the “wanheda” image in this scene by poking holes into it, its pretty great imo.

and don’t even get me started on emori, i’m so down for that girl; she’s so different from any other character we’ve seen on this show so far - especially when you think of the things she was forced to do in order to survive, and how her view drastically sets itself apart from all the others in connection to those actions. anyone want a front-row seat for the time i express my weirdly endearing love for her? it’s for free, i promise. it makes all the more sense why she is so desperate on making this work out the way she planned it (not that i didn’t consider it before to be honest, but emori’s emotional expression put more truth into everything imo), and the twist is mind-freezing because it’s emori who propels the story into a whole new dimension for me, and you’ve got to have some serious talents in order to do that with a viewer like me, just saying, lol.

anyway. essentially this moment is functioning as such a great worst-case scenario for two characters who put themselves out there. it’s really fascinating.

i mean, i don’t even know what the point of this post is anymore, i’m kinda drifting. but i really love that clarke just gets to be clarke in this scene by creating a contrast to emori, who just gets to be really hardcore emori in this moment. their interaction creates such a great conflict in which you understand both.

thirty days of skam fic: day thirteen
aka an au where isak is totally (not) in denial about liking even

beginning. accusation. restless. leaves. rainbow. flame. formal. under. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. cans. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. tent. mad. thousand. paper. winter. luxury. letters. promise. simple. future.

[ READ ON AO3 ]

There are some things in the universe that are just facts . They’re not up for debate, they don’t need evaluating; anyone who’s not in complete denial about the workings of the world just has to agree. For example, it’s a fact that the earth goes around the sun. It’s a fact that there are two hundred and six bones in the human body. It’s a fact that pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza. And, most importantly of all, it is a fact of the universe that Isak Valtersen does not have a crush on Even Bech Naesheim.

The only unfortunate thing is, Isak’s idiot friends seem to disagree with one of those facts.

—–

Isak has only been out of the closet for half a year – he’s never had a boyfriend that he introduced his friends to, he’s never hooked up with a guy at a party in front of them, and he’s certainly never said anything about the kind of guys he finds hot.

But the first time the guys ever meet Even, Magnus turns to Isak afterwards and says, “Fuck, bro, he is so your type!”

Isak just blinks at him, and then whirls around to make sure Even really has retreated to the next room of the party and didn’t hear that.  What the fuck is Magnus talking about, anyway?  Yeah, Even’s tall and hot and dreamy and his eyes are captivating and he’d smiled at Isak way too nicely, holding his gaze for a moment too long, as Jonas introduced them all, but – Isak’s never even had a conversation with him.

Even is just Jonas’s new weed guy.  And, most importantly, when Jonas had mentioned finding this new weed guy, his exact words had been, ‘ yeah, we met through his girlfriend, she’s in my Politics class.’

So. No matter how much eye contact Even might make or how good he’d looked all bundled up in way too many layers of clothing for a house party, Isak is absolutely not going there.  He’s had enough of crushing on straight guys to last him a lifetime.

“He is the opposite of my type, what the fuck,” Isak lies to Magnus, and then swallows down the rest of his beer.  “Why do you think you know what kind of guys I like anyway!  Shut up.”

Magnus just laughs at him, and Mahdi shakes his head.

“Bro.  That was some serious eye-fucking right there.  You guys are gonna hook up, I’m calling it right now.”

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Gemini / Sirius x Reader

Requested, Sirius and James’s twin. This is fun little 2AM, black tea induced word vomit fiesta but I sort of liked writing it so that’s always a thrill! Also I didn’t edit this very thoroughly so if you see any mistakes fell free to tell me!


Sunlight is a truly awful thing. Especially when it greets one at six o’clock on a Saturday morning when Y/N thought she ought to have been sleeping. It is made even worse when combined with a particularly poignant headache that could be attributed to nothing other than the copious amounts of alcohol consumed by Y/N herself, her brother James, Lily Evans and Sirius Black.

 “Hmf, Y/N, you alive?” The girl grumbles her response, “What the bloody fuck are you doing in here?” A head of dark curls appears over the side of the bed, grinning despite a raging hangover, “Well that’s no way to greet your lover.”

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1997 [3]

Part 1, 2

Characters: Dean Winchester, twin sister!reader, Sam Winchester, characters from 4x13, OC characters.

Words: 1500

Tags: @daughters-and-winsisters @evyiione  @darkestgrungeuniverse @fabulouslycassie @delessapeace-blog @mariairwin666 @1amluke @saveprettydays @cookee50 @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @samanddeanshotsis

A/N: Just gonna clarify that this could be any town, I’m not thinking of anywhere specific while writing this. The episode ”After School Special”, where I’m taking names and characters and so on from — I’m using the setting — might take place in a certain town, I don’t remember, but yeah. My series doesn’t, it’s just a small town, that’s all.

Music suggestion: Tennis Court - Lorde (Again, I just listened to it while I wrote, and didn’t think of the lyrics, so yeah.)

Your name: submit What is this?

The beautiful thing with moving around and switching schools like you and your brothers did — was that you could become anyone. No one knew you from before, no one knew what you’ve been through — and they definitely didn’t know what your father did for a living either for that matter.

So, you were free to be whoever you liked, because the only ones who really knew you — the real you — were your family. Because, no one ever got to know you. Because, before you could make friends, true friends, you had to leave again. Just like Sammy had said.

Dean usually hung around the ”cool” kids. With his sarcasm and charisma, he had no problem with getting people to laugh. And for some reason, he was popular with the girls too. You didn’t understand that one.

Sometimes, you joined Dean and hung out with those crowds. But, other times, you went a different way. You tried out hanging with almost every type of group that existed in high school.

It was just that you didn’t bother this time. This time, as you said to yourself, you were going to keep to yourself. It would spare you energy, and then it wouldn’t be hard at all to leave. There would be nothing to miss.

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✘。— now or never

( you know we’re runnin’ out of time. )

now or never! (alea) – the one where harry and y/n love each other, but never at the right time.

extra extra! (read all about it) – this is a new mini-fic based on the original netflix show, lovesick, and also my first harry imagine ever, so !! i don’t know how many parts it’ll have because i just have so much planned for it and don’t know how to include everything while keeping it concise, so that’s currently up in the air. one thing i do know for certain, though, is that every part will have a playlist of songs that, if this were a show, would definitely be playing in the background, and that is available on spotify right HERE. also, i used this post on astrology to help me create y/n and harry’s relationship. also x2, a massive thank you to laney for putting up with me and this hot mess of a plot.

twitter fingers! (turn to trigger fingers) - no triggers i think should be mentioned, but if someone happens upon something please contact me and i’ll change this.

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7 Years - BadBoy! Jeon Jungkook X Reader - Part 8

I genuinely feel like I rushed the character development in this story and I hate myself for that.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8 - Here  Part 9  Part 10.1  Part 10.2  Part 10.3  Part 11  Part 12


Your detention soon came to an end and you were quick to question the boys on their motives.

“Ask Jungkook. I don’t know why the fuck we’re doing this.” You should have expected such a reply from Yoongi.

Taehyung bounced into your vision, his rectangular smile present on his face.

“We wanted to hang out with you so we got ourselves in trouble on purpose!” He definitely seemed too enthusiastic for someone who is jeopardising his school records.

“You wanted to hang out… in detention? This is a joke, right?” Either they had completely lost the plot or were desperate to speak with someone they didn’t see every moment of every single day.

“Ignore Tae, he’s being stupid. The real reason is because Jungkook was worried that that girl from before would try to start something again.” Jimin piped up from beside a whining Taehyung, a cute grin spreading on his lips.

“Hyung!” Jungkook shoved Jimin with such force that he disappeared from your sight. Blinking a couple of times, you watched as he jogged back and playfully pushed Jungkook.

“What’s wrong? I’m just telling her what she wants to know.” A glare was what he got in return before Jungkook turned on his heel and walked out of the school gates. The rest of you took that as your cue to leave, following behind.

-

The boys had walked you halfway home before you all parted ways. When you had arrived home, you explained what had happened to your mother, who had received a phone call over your behaviour. She seemed to understand the situation better than you had initially thought she would and warned you to keep out of trouble.

Making your way to your room, you flung yourself on your bed and checked your messages from Areum.

‘Y/N! Are you okay?’

'What happened?’

'I’m sorry you got in trouble for me…’

Areum was so sweet, it made you question how someone such as herself existed.

'I’m okay, Areum. I’ve got detention for a week though lol.’

Within a matter of seconds you received a reply.

'How can you be so calm about that!? You’re a perfect student.’

'I’m still a good student Areum. Now everyone knows that I’m not all talk haha.’

You could imagine the worried look that was present on her face at this very moment.

'If you say so… thank you for defending me. I don’t know what I’d do if we weren’t friends.’

'You probably wouldn’t have been in that kind of situation but it’s alright.’

She ended the conversation with a laughing face and you sighed to yourself.

Now to try and survive the rest of the week with Hye Mi.

-

The next 2 days of school were uneventful, although you were the topic of everyone’s discussions. You seemed to be the centre of everyone’s attention as well which made you mildly uncomfortable, mainly because it resulted in conversations being initiated with unfamiliar students. Speaking to new people just wasn’t a strong point for you.

As the end of the day arrived, you speedily made your way to your detention, arriving before Hye Mi and the boys. The teacher supervising the detention stood upon your entrance and beckoned you over.

“Y/N, I’ve discussed the situation with the principal and we’ve decided that you don’t have to attend detention for the rest of the week.”

Confusion spread on your face as you raised your eyebrows in surprise. “Um… can I ask why?”

She smiled at your confused face before nodding at you.

“Well… the thing is, we know you’re not a bad student. It’s just… you seem to be influenced by the wrong students.”

Wrong students? Surely she didn’t mean…

“Are you talking about Jungkook and his friends?”

“Of course. Who else could it be?”

Anger began to boil inside you and you willed yourself to keep as calm as possible. She was trying to pin the recent events on Jungkook and his influence. Did she honestly believe you couldn’t think for yourself?

“Oh I don’t know, maybe Hye Mi? She’s an instigator in case you hadn’t realised.”

“Y/N! That’s not the point. The point is we want you to keep your distance from the boys. They’re just trouble for a good student like you.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“I have to keep my distance from the boys who stood up for me when no one else would? When no teachers took notice of the kind of bullying I had to be subjected to? If anything they’re the reason I’m more confident and I am able to defend myself more these past few weeks.”

She seemed shocked to say the least. Anyone would. You were known to be a compliant student who never spoke back and defied teachers. Despite your calmness when delivering your words, the anger that was poorly hidden was clear in your voice.

“They’re the only ones who cared enough to protect me… no offence Miss but where were you when I needed help?”

Rather than reprimanding you, she instead bowed her head in guilt because as much as she’d like to deny it, she was a bystander to the bullying taking place in the school.

“I’m sorry Miss but I can’t stop being friends with them just because a couple of teachers order me to. Contrary to popular belief this isn’t a prison. Oh, and they’re not bad students, just misjudged a lot.”

Seeing she had no more to say, you strode out of the room only to be greeted with Jungkooks figure leaning against the wall. When he noticed your presence, he turned his attention to you and smirked, satisfied with the 'speech’ you had given.

“Kookie…” Jungkook pushed himself off the wall and sauntered towards you, eyes never leaving yours.

Slightly crouching down, he placed a longing kiss on the corner of your mouth, making you stiffen. Retracting himself, he stepped back, his signature bunny-like grin appearing and a faint pink dusting over his cheeks.

“I’m proud of you…” Not giving you a chance to think of a reply, he drifted into the classroom leaving you standing alone.

“What’s up, Teach?”

His voice snapped you out of your trance and you reached your hand up to where he had placed a kiss.

“That… that jerk is going to be the death of me.” Your soft smile betrayed the annoyance your words held. Shaking your head, you shuffled out of the school and walked home, mentally replaying the scene over and over.

-

You’d like to think that the kiss was Jungkook’s subtle way of telling you that he felt something for you but you would rather not jump to conclusions. It was an eye opener, however, as it made you realise that certain interactions you both shared were ones that would imply that something was happening between the both of you. Thinking about these actions caused heat to rush to your face and you buried your face into your pillow in a pathetic attempt to calm yourself down.

Your phone chimed, alerting you to a new message and you all but threw yourself at your desk.

'Hey, what are you doing right now?’

The message was from Jungkook which caused an unconscious smile to spread on your face.

'Worrying about the consequences of my 'speech’. Why?’

'Just got out of detention. I want to see you.’ No matter how many times he was blunt with you, Jungkook never failed to surprise you. Switching into a seated position, you contemplated how to reply. You didn’t want to come across as desperate because you definitely were not but you didn’t want to put it off for another day.

'Okay, where?’

You arranged to meet at the local park in an hour. No one would be there at this time so it would be just the two of you.

It wasn’t a date, in fact it’s far from one so why were you nervous?

You dwelled on this for longer than you had anticipated since you received a message from Jungkook, notifying you he was already there.

“Shit!”

Dashing down the stairs, you told your mother that you’d be back soon whilst pulling on your shoes.

“Just be safe and call me if there is any trouble!”

“Tell Jungkook his sister in law said hi.”

You didn’t even have the time to snap at your younger sister. Your arguments always lasted minimum fifteen minutes, which you didn’t have to spare. Instead you rushed out of your house and speed walked to the arranged destination, spotting his figure sitting on one of the swings. His head was bowed but soon snapped up when he heard your footsteps approaching. Sitting beside him, you placed your hands between your legs and stared straight ahead at nothing in particular.

A comfortable silence settled between you and you patiently waited for him to break it.

“What are you doing to me?” Uncertainty washed over you at his question and you peeked at his face. He in turn lowered his head again and dug the heel of his timberlands into the ground, waiting for your reply.

“I’m going to have to ask you to elaborate Jungkook.” A deep chuckle left him and he turned his attention to your face, seemingly analysing your next actions.

“You’ve noticed how I’ve changed. How I treat you. There’s no way you haven’t.”

So this is what he’s talking about.

“Yeah, I’m not stupid. What I want to know is if it’s for the reasons I think it’s for.”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

That shocked you a little bit.

“Let me ask you again. What are you doing to me? Why is it everytime you smile I want it to be only for me? Why is it everytime you’re upset, I want to punch the shit out of the person who upset you? What is it about you that makes me want to always be by your side?”

You were sure your jaw was hanging wide open at the out of character things Jungkook was saying. Maybe, just maybe, you were interpreting what he was saying the wrong way.

“Because we’re best friends. Isn’t that what best friends want?” He scoffed at your sentence and for a second you worried that you had given the wrong answer.

“Cut the shit, Y/N. Are you trying to friend zone me or something? We could be more than friends. I want us to be more than friends.”

“You want what now?”

He stood from his swing and proceeded to walk to the spot directly in front of you.

“Are you that slow? Fucking shit, I like you! Maybe even l-lo… you get the fucking point.”

Today was just a day for revelations, wasn’t it?

“Okay, slow down please. Since when?”

A deep sigh escaped his lips and he glanced to the side, avoiding eye contact with you.

“I don’t know… it’s kind of always been there. You’re the only girl who understands me and would never hurt me. You’ve always cared for me even when I allowed other people to treat you like shit. Ah, I’m such a fucking loser.”

Running a hand through his hair in frustration, he turned his back on you pulling out a cigarette box. You didn’t know what to say, the words being caught on your tongue. So you done the first thing you thought of.

Pushing the swing back with as much force as you could muster, you allowed yourself to fly forward and all but flew into Jungkook’s back. Upon colliding, you wrapped your arms around his neck, his body breaking your fall. Bringing your head to the crook of his neck, you yelled into his ear.

“Smoking is bad for you, dumbass!”

Struggling to turn underneath your weight, he managed to rotate his boy and glare at you.

“You’re actually a freak. Did you know that? I don’t understand why I lik-”

Your warm lips connected with his in the heat of the moment, effectively shutting him up. His crescent eyes grew as wide as saucers whilst you shut yours in an attempt to avoid making your first kiss anymore awkward than it already was.

Soon enough you felt his hands on the back of your head, trying to pull you closer, if that was possible. Jungkook bit your lip harder than necessary and you yelped into his mouth. He took this opportunity to deepen the kiss and your teeth clashed several times. He soon parted from you, and instead just stared as if he was trying to commit all of your features to memory.

You grinned at Jungkook and hopped off him, lending him a hand and pulling him up. He returned your grin with half a smirk and dusted himself down.

“What the fuck was that?” You let a giggle escape your lips and shrugged your shoulders.

“I don’t know, I guess I felt the same the way.”

“You guess?”

Vigorously nodding your head, you snatched his hand and dragged him out of the park.

“You know… I’m kind of hungry. Let’s get icecream.”  He raised an eyebrow at your idea.

“At 9pm?”

“At 9pm.”

You spent the next hour eating icecream from a nearby shop before Jungkook decided it was time to leave and walked you home.

“See you tomorrow, babe.”

“Jungkook.” Your warning tone made him pout at you.

“But I need a nickname for my girl now.”

“Well think of a better one.” He smirked at your challenge for the umpteenth time.

“Fine then, princess.”

“Really?”

“I’m sticking with it whether you like it or not.”

Before you could argue back, he placed a peck on your lips and backed away from you.

“Bye, princess.”

“Oh my g-”

“Y/N! Stop standing there and come inside!”

You could only assume your mother had seen everything, judging by the excited tone she failed at hiding.

Waving at Jungkook, he winked at you before heading down the street and out of sight.

Now you just had to live through your mothers fangirling, possibly your sisters and then Areums.


I keep seeing wizard AUs where it’s just neil with magic and that’s rad but i needed an andreil au where they’re both magic so here we go

neil is the sorcerer king in the north and the rumors say he killed his father to be crowned. andrew, co-ruler of the kingdom to the south, doesn’t know if he believes that, but if it’s true, it at least makes the northern king nearly worth his interest. neil would have to be incredibly strong to overthrow king nathan, which potentially puts him on par with andrew himself.

andrew and aaron co-rule their kingdom in part because they don’t actually know which one’s older. their mother would’ve told them at some point had she not died in what’s carefully framed as a tragic accident, using a spell she wasn’t powerful enough for. the other reason is that they actually complement each other really well even if they despise cooperating: andrew’s a wildly powerful sorcerer, whereas aaron is better at diplomacy and traditional weaponry

having heard the rumors they figure they should meet neil, but that means going to his kingdom because he doesn’t feel secure enough in his rule yet to want to leave. originally both twins are going to go but there’s a crisis to their east and aaron’s needed to go negotiate so it’s andrew who gets sent up to meet neil (which everyone thinks is going to end in disaster).

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Hours in Midnight // Thor x Reader

Pairing: Thor x Reader (POC)
Word Count: 4k+
Warning: Angst, Fluff, a bad word or two, a smut mention if you squint real hard, SLOOOOW BURRRRNNNNNNN
Summary: Thor shows Reader she’s so much more than the demons in her head make her believe. Friendship is magic. Side note: Thor got a monster peen pass it on. Bonus Sam Wilson! 

A/N: I cannot believe it’s taken me this long to write a Thor fic. I also study Norse Theology so I felt it a bit appropriate to include some of it in here. If you guys like this, I’ll consider adding more part(s)! Feedback is absolutely welcome. This is also unbeta’d. I’ll go back and fix grammar and spelling errors when I can. Let me know if you spot some!

Inspiration: “I Don’t Want to Change You” ~ Damien Rice

Where ever you go,
Well, I can always follow
I can feed this real slow
If it’s a lot to swallow.
And if you want to be alone
Well, I can wait without waiting
If you want me to let this go
Well, I’m more than willing…”

Originally posted by avengers-of-mirkwood

Part 2

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Chapter VIII | Tell Me - A Harry Styles Uni AU

Main Story page is here.

Song for the Playlist - Like I’m Gonna Lose You by Jasmine Thompson

Instagrams are here - (none for this chapter, again, because the app is still being a dick)

Word Count - 4000…ish

“Fine,” he snapped back. “Do you want to go to A&E?”

“No.” Her head lulled to the side, eyes closed.

“Right,” he began again, sternly. “Look, you either get up and get in bed or we go to hospital if you can’t move. Your call.”

“Mate,” Niall interrupted. “If she can’t move to the bed, then she’s not gonna be able to get to the hospital, is she?”

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