felt sneakers

Daddy Issues

Pairing: JungKook & Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Summary: A top student, marks always high. College was not a dream for her…Except she didn’t have enough money. Her parents never earned much so they literally took care of themselves. Her boss acting as a dick towards her she quited her job. Even though she had no idea what she let herself into this was her only option.

Other Chapters: 1 

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things tie together

As she walked to school, Marinette was keenly aware of several things. The first was that she had actually made it in good time for once, instead of dashing over in a crazed mess of halfway-done hair and halfway-eaten breakfast on the go. The second, of all things, was the way her feet felt in sneakers. She had been forced, last night, to de-transform in a back alley, the nearest sanctuary from prying eyes, and in the darkness had splashed into a dirty puddle of rainwater. Her flats were still recovering in her room now, hence: sneakers.

They weren’t even particularly nice sneakers. They were an old pair that she had to scrounge up from the depths of the spare cabinet. At one point, writing them off as something she would never wear again, she had apparently let Manon go at them with pink rhinestones and some quick-dry glue. Even this morning, as she got ready, she hadn’t the heart to try to prise any of them off.

Marinette wriggled her toes nervously as she crossed the street and began ascending the steps to the school’s main door, all the while keeping her eyes angled steadfastly downwards. All she needed to do was get to her classroom, get to her seat, and hope her other notable fashion choice for the day would be distracting enough that no one would look at her feet much…

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” came Chloé’s silken voice, and she stopped on the spot, caught halfway to the staircase leading up to their classrooms. Her classmate gave her a sickeningly sweet smile and cooed, “I see you’ve finally gotten a wardrobe upgrade.”

She was about to respond, but she was interrupted by Sabrina, who piped up from beside Chloé, “Ooh, yes Marinette, I love that dress! Did you make… it…?” 

Sabrina trailed off as Chloé turned to glare at her. “I meant her shoes,” she hissed.

But it was enough of a break in the confrontation for Marinette to gather her wits. “Thanks, Sabrina!” she called out, stepping past her two classmates to continue on her way.

As she did, she felt it: the slight resistance that told her Chloé had actually had the insolence to stick out a daintily pointed foot and step on her shoelaces, causing them to come undone as she pulled away.

“Knock it off, Chloé,” Marinette groaned, turning back to glare at her smug tormentor. She began to crouch, but then realised: the dress. It would make retying her shoelaces awkward, if not impossible, and her klutziness would never allow her to make it up the stairs to her classroom unscathed.

She practically growled at her.

“Oh! I’m surprised they didn’t unravel altogether,” Chloé trilled belatedly, her hand flying to her mouth in pretend sympathy and dismay. “You’d better watch yourself, Marinette. You don’t want to have any wardrobe malfunctions.”

She beckoned brusquely at Sabrina, who meekly began to follow her and walk away, although just before turning aside she sent an apologetic look in Marinette’s direction.

Marinette was seeing red — but as she seethed and looked off into the distance, at a loss for the moment what to do, she also saw Adrien, standing in the main entrance to the school. From his furrowed brow, she guessed that he had seen everything.

She bit her lip as he walked up to her, thinking that anything he said or did right then would only make her more embarrassed, no matter his good intentions. From somewhere off to the right and up, she heard Chloé call out to her Adrikins.

Although he was usually congenial enough, this time Adrien didn’t respond to his childhood friend. He moved somewhat vaguely as he walked up to Marinette, a tentative smile replacing his frown. “Hey Marinette,” he greeted her, and oh, her gut instinct had been right: this was mortifying, to see him in all his perfect clothing coordination and photoshoot-worthy windswept hair, next to her apparent fashion disaster today. Even as she squeaked out a “Hi!” she could feel her cheeks colouring.

“Adrikins?” Chloé called out again from halfway up the staircase, her voice faltering slightly with the diminishing possibility that he continued not to have heard her, and the increasing likelihood that he was actively ignoring her.

“Sorry, would you hold this for a moment?” Adrien asked, passing her his messenger bag. Numbly, she accepted it — and the moment the strap changed hands, Adrien crouched smoothly and began to re-tie her shoelaces. Only, because they were standing quite close together and she was holding his bag, it looked like she was helping him while he redid his own shoelaces.

Marinette’s eyes widened. Dimly, she registered feeling selfishly satisfied, that he had chosen to stand up for her — uh, figuratively — so publicly. More crucially, she felt a warmth spread through her, starting from somewhere deep in her chest: it was both a relief that he had found such a subtle and un-condescending way to help her, and an internal thrill that this was actually happening.

As he stood up again, Adrien flashed her a smile and said, “Thanks!” while accepting back his bag.

“Right back at you,” Marinette countered, meeting his eyes and trying to communicate her gratitude.

He held her gaze for a second too long, and then ducked his head — shyly? but Adrien Agreste didn’t get shy around Marinette. He didn’t get flustered at all, really, except… except…

She was over-thinking it, probably.

But then, in an undertone, Adrien murmured, “No problem. Wouldn’t want you — heh — falling for anybody else.”

What. 

She blinked at him in confusion, her heart rate subtly picking up as she did, and her expression shifting from gratitude to the beginnings of wonder.

She only knew one person who made such corny jokes. She only knew one person who reacted that way around her, or at least, the superheroic side of her.

It was almost laughter that bubbled out of him at that point, but instead Adrien just smiled again, seeming to have to fight to keep his face straight.

He touched her on the shoulder, as was his habit, as was Chat Noir’s habit, and she felt the familiar angular ring on his finger, pressing lightly against her skin. His eyes were shining as he said, “Nice outfit, by the way. The spots really, uh, suit you.”

“Adrikins?” Chloé tried one last time, but she sounded faint and far away.

“Chat Noir,” Marinette whispered.

He twirled his hand in the kind of flourish that tended to precede one of his more ostentatious bows. Looking up at her with those impossibly green eyes that she should have recognised before now, surely, he replied, “The one and only, My Lady.”

Didn’t See That Coming? (Part 2)

Background: You and Peter have known each other since middle school, and he introduces you to a place for mutants after learning about your powers. (post-DOFP)

Rating: M (Swearing, peter maximoff)

Warnings: Peter is a little shit, language

Words: 1,100 words

Part 1

“Peter, I swear to god, if you don’t get your ass down here, I’m going to kick the shit out of you,” You swore at the smirking boy as you made your way to the front gates, “I don’t want to be the only one here without any friends.” you muttered, unsure of yourself and what was going to happen once you walked through those doors. The gates were emblazoned with an X, which you believed was a reference to the Professor’s full name, although Peter only referred to him as ‘The Professor’. It was scary, to say the least. You had gotten up at 2:39 a.m. that morning, unable to sleep for nerves, and by 2:50, you had already set out an outfit, wrote out talking points, and went over every single possible thing that could go wrong. 

Since Peter wasn’t one for sleep either, he had visited your house at 4:15 a.m. and decided to stay there to help you prepare and generally cheer you up. After asking a seeming thousand of questions to Peter about your prospect of a new home, you both departed at 8:35 a.m. for Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, a name you thought was a bit strange, but elected to go along with in the spirit of change. 

“Don’t worry, this place is for people who stick out. The Professor will be glad to accept you.” Peter gave you a reassuring pat on the back before moving his hand up to your neck and sprinting down the lawn, taking you with him. Next thing you knew, you had a faint sense of sickness and found yourself in front of the doors that so many famed mutants before you had walked through. 

“I feel sick, Peter, I don’t think I can do this.” you clutched at your stomach, closing your eyes and feeling the doubt build in your chest.

“It’s just motion sickness, it’ll pass.”

“It’s not motion sickness, Peter, I just…” you searched for a good way to explain the worrying feeling, “What if…what if I’m too strange? What if they don’t want a dangerous weirdo walking down their halls?”

“Oh, come on, the Professor will love you, (Y/N), just as much as I lo- like you.” Peter quickly added, tinging a bit red before recovering, “He’ll be thrilled to have you, you control motion for Christ’s sake, that’s pretty fuckin’ cool.”

“Fine, Maximoff, if you’re so sure…” you smirked, thinking of a way to get out of it, “Then you have to go to school with me.”

“No!” He quickly responded, stepping back from the front doors, with a look of disgust on his face, “I just got out of school, you think I want to enroll in another?”

“If it’s so terrible, then I’m not going,” You added, proposing your final ultimatum as you turned on your heel to walk away, “Either you go with me, or I don’t go at all. It’d make your mom happy anyways, Pete, this is a lot better than having to go to some community college with a bunch of frat boys.”

You began to walk away slowly, the sound of your black flats hitting the pavement before-

“Wait! I-I’ll go to the s-school if you will,” The boy finally conceded as you grinned at your shoes, “You need to learn more about your powers, and this is the best place to do that. God knows I know jack shit about this type of stuff anyways.”

You spun around, quickly running up to Peter and throwing your arms around his neck. Initially, he sort of freaked out a bit and his face flushed red. He soon got used to it, finally wrapping his arms around your waist and cherishing the small bit of affection you showed him. As you pulled away, you gave him an appreciative smile and opened the doors for him.

“You first, Roadrunner.” You bowed your head as you held open the entrance and followed him onto the polished hardwood flooring. Hearing the squeaks of his silver Nike sneakers, you felt a bit annoyed, but you didn’t have time to do anything but open your mouth to scold him before your eyes caught a young man on the staircase staring at you. 

“Excuse me, my name’s Hank, are you a new student?” The timid man said before pushing his glasses up awkwardly and outstretching his hand. 

“My name is (Y/N), and I’m hoping to enroll today. So is my friend, Peter.” you smiled as you shook his hand. He seemed sort of cute, if a bit awkward. You thought to yourself as you pulled away your hand, I think we are going to be good friends.

“Hey, is there any chance the professor is home?” Peter cut in, while gazing around the place like he was expecting it to be bigger.

“Yeah, uh, right this way” Hank spoke quickly, shaking his head as if he had woken from a trance. You followed Peter up the stairs, and Peter followed Hank. Soon, after navigating an immeasurable number of halls, you ended up in a tidy, sunny room, staring into the kind eyes of the famed headmaster.

“Hello, my name is Charles Xavier. Welcome to my school. What’s your name?” the professor smiled. He was dressed in a white button-up with the sleeves rolled up and black dress slacks. Somehow, the outfit fit his personality just right, a kind man who seemed to be an intelligent and caring soul.

“I’m (Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“I heard you were a friend of Peter’s who had come across some unusual abilities, Miss (Y/L/N)?” 

“Yes, sir. I could show you now if you like?”

He smiled graciously, “Of course, please demonstrate.”

Your eyes found their way to Peter’s, searching for reassurance as you felt this was going to affect the headmaster’s decision. Peter grinned through the few silver hairs that had fallen in his face, and you had found the hope you were looking for. Turning back towards Professer Xavier, your gaze focused on Xavier’s own Newton’s Cradle. Your heart rate slowed to a comfortable rate before your eyes shot wide open and your irises became a colorful spectrum. The cradle immediately became completely still, and for a second, it felt like the world had stopped. Nothing, not even for a second, moved. The professor’s reaction was like a penny in the air, waiting to drop upon you any second. Abruptly, you were snapped out of your hypnotic state by ten words that would change your life.

“Congratulations, you’ve been accepted into Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.”

jiiminniemouse  asked:

OMG first thx for following me I love your blog! And if you have the time could you please make a Jimin imagine about him as a bad boy and in the beginning I hate him but in the end we fall in love with each other.

My Arch Nemesis: Park Jimin

There are very few things that I hate in this world: spiders; failing; and occasionally my hair—which seems to have a mind of its own at times. Among those though, there is one thing that I have found topping the list lately: him. Park Jimin. Grade Twelves resident bad boy and tool. Words could not describe our explosive hatred for one another.

Walking past his desk, I felt a sneaker jut out in front of me, tripping me as I passed, making me land hard on my hands. I sat up and whipped my head toward the smirking brat, shooting the worst death glare I could manage before standing and brushing myself off.

Laughing, he scratched the back of his jet black hair, “Oops, sorry. You should really watch where you’re stepping next time.”

What was this kindergarten?! The tips of my ears were hot, steam practically rolling from them, as I spat, “Nice of you to actually show up to class for once, and here I thought maybe you’d finally been pulled back to grade school where you belong. Darn.”

That felt good. I enjoyed getting my little digs at the womanizing-cocky-bad-boy whenever I could, especially since he insisted on making my life a complete hell. I wasn’t a mean natured spirit, but anyone that is pushed for so long will eventually break. You bend or you break, as the saying goes.

This little rivalry of sorts had begun our freshman year and had just snowballed through the years, until finally we found ourselves seniors with a vendetta for one another. If I were a superhero, Park Jimin was my arch nemesis; the very bane of my existence.

It was as if I’d physically hit him, his eyes saddened, resembling a puppy who had lost its owner, and then they shifted to a familiar anger, blackening like coals as that little smirk broadened, his muscular arms crossing over his blazer, “It’s ok to miss me, you know? I know how you really feel. I see you watching me all the time, and even though you aren’t my type, I could hook you up with one of my bros,” then purring, quirking one eyebrow suggestively and rubbing at his upper thigh, “I know what you good girls like.”

I wanted to scream; to curse him; to hit him. I hated him. How could I let him get to me this way? How did he always somehow win these little battles? Our relationship was a war, and he was winning by a long shot.

Breathing deeply through my nose, I closed my eyes and remained as calm as possible, slipping on my usual cool facade I had when I was near him, “I’ll pass on that offer. You clearly don’t know what I like, if you think I’d ever be interested in someone like you, loser.”

Placing myself in my seat, I let a smirk of my own fall upon my lips; perhaps, I wasn’t losing as badly as I thought. His ‘bros’—a gang of six equally annoying boys—were hitting those broad shoulders, teasing him about my remarks. I rolled my eyes and just sat quietly as class began, working on my notes and homework diligently, until finally we were dismissed. Sighing with some relief, I rubbed my eyes tiredly, and walked toward the door, heading for my locker.

A masculine pair of hands though, stopped my trek and turned me around, pressing me roughly against one of the old steel lockers, its handle pressing painfully into the small of my back evoking a hiss from my lips, “What the hell, Jimin?! What’s your problem?”

But, just as I went to fight against the strong hold over my body, I felt lips upon mine, kissing me with a passion that I didn’t know existed between two people. His hands let go of my arms, holding my face gently—something I didn’t know that the bad boy was capable of—those lips setting fire to my own. My eyes widened in shock at the contact, my hands unsure of what to do, hanging limply at my sides. What is happening? Is this a joke?

It all ended just as quickly as it had begun, and I was left there staring like a deer caught in headlights, panting and touching my lips with trembling fingertips. Dark mischievous eyes that had haunted my dreams, were softer, full of something I wished I couldn’t see; something that scared me. Those sculpted lips were still brushing against mine, tickling the sensitive skin of my own, breathing heavily against them, as he leaned into me.

What do I do?

My legs did the only thing they could in that moment of confusion and panic: they ran. Not taking a single glance back, I pushed past my arch nemesis and pushed through the crowded hallways, until I made it safely to my car outside. Buckling in, I simply stared through the windshield, processing the event that had just unfolded between Jimin and me. Why had he kissed me? Did I like it?

Touching my lips with a steady set of fingertips, I thought of that bruising contact as his lips collided with my own. Those surprising soft hands cupping my face, pulling me deeper into that taste of spearmint toothpaste upon his lips. The thing that flitted through my mind the most though were his eyes; the way that they tenderly looked into my own with a softness that I had never seen from him before. What game was he playing at? What if it wasn’t a game?

My heart fluttered at the latter. Did Park Jimin like me? Did I like him? The blush that crept up my neck and sailed through the skin of my cheeks and nose told me the answer was undeniably yes. I had a crush on my worst enemy. I guess, there is something to that whole ‘there’s a fine line between love and hate’ after all.

Smiling, I drove off, leaving behind thoughts of kisses and school as I headed home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days were strange, Jimin and I passed one another several times—in class, the hallways, during lunch—but not once did he say one smart comment, let alone look at me. Did I just dream up that kiss? Was I the only one that felt anything at all afterward? Was my heart the only one fooled in this cruel joke?

Packing up my backpack at my locker, I stuffed my homework for the night in one folder before shoving it in one of the pockets and zipping it up, flinging it over my shoulder as I made my way down the hallway toward the exit. Another day without any explanation: great. That’s when I felt a familiar grasp on my shoulders, pulling me into an abandoned classroom, and shoving me against a vacant desk.

“What have you done to me?”

There was a desperation in his voice, his eyes looking helpless, his brow knitted down the middle. I cringed at the harsh contact, taking a breath to collect myself, as I quirked one eyebrow in confusion, “What did I do to you? I think I’m the one who should be asking that question, Jimin.”

Letting go of my shoulders, he stepped away from me, running one hand down his face, and then redirecting his gaze toward me, “I…I like you. I’ve liked you for a while, but I knew you’d never go for someone like me, so I—.”

“Made my life hell! You hate me! You’ve tortured me for the past four years of my life, Park Jimin. I refuse to believe you like me, of all people.”

Explaining himself, he pleaded with me to understand, something I found I was not accustomed to with this particular boy, “Please, just hear me out. I thought if I played it cool, that maybe just maybe, you’d fall for me. And then, when that didn’t work, I just tried to hate you; to rid myself of these feelings,” his hand grasped at his heart, as if he were willing it to stop torturing him with whatever these ‘feelings’ were, as he added, “But, I can’t make them disappear. I’m in…”

“Don’t,” I whispered, my eyes watering suddenly, my breath catching in my throat, one hand face up toward him, willing him to stop this cruelty.

I love you.”

Two steps forward and he was breaching my space, grabbing my face in those hands just as before, crashing those lips against mine, forcing me to feel exactly what he was in that moment: love. My heart was beating out of my chest, whispering its own response, until finally it forced my lips to say it too: “I love you too, Jimin.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed it! :) Thanks for reading!! 

Apple Juice, Baby - OneShot

Requested by anonymous: A Jensen x Reader where she’s his costar and girlfriend and surprises him (and everyone else) by showing up to JIB con when Jared had to cancel. And then later gets kinda drunk on the “apple juice” and crashes the Misha/Jensen panel (if you haven’t seen that panel you totally should btw, hilarious). Then tons of fluff and hilarity happens. Thanks! (2.9K)

MASTERLIST

You groggily woke up that morning to your phone blaring incessantly on the floor, vibrating around in small circles as your cat Circe pawed at it with apprehension. Checking the clock on the nightstand, you discovered that it was much too early on a Saturday to be asked of anything, but if it had vibrated enough to fall off its holster on your night stand, then perhaps it meant something was up (the last time it had vibrated so much, Gen had gone into labour).

You reached over the bedside in an attempt to grab your phone without losing the warmth of your covers, and you obviously failed. You toppled out of bed with an “oomph,” and Circe barrelled her way out of the bedroom with an unnecessary shrill wail.

Rolling your eyes at her and grasping your phone, you flipped the screen over to see a dozen missed calls, mostly from Jared, but also from a few of the producers. Curious, you hoped nothing bad had happened, you dialed Jared’s number by heart and waited for the call to connect.

As you were waiting, you placed the phone on speaker and swung on a fuzzy robe and your favorite moccasins, easier said than done as Circe began twirling around your legs looking for a little bit of love and a lot of food.

“You’re getting kinda chubby you know, maybe you should go on a diet,” you cooed at her, picking her up and letting her nuzzle your neck for attention.

“Wow, Y/N, thanks,” blared Jared’s tinny voice through your phone, causing you to jump, you hadn’t realized he’d picked up, you were occupied with nuzzling your face into the soft arm of you cat, the purring sending vibrations down your cheek and neck.

Picking it up from the shelf in your closet and chuckling lightly you said “Jared, you know I don’t mean you, ya loonie. I was talking about Circe! Fat cat…” You trailed off with a small grin on your face. “So why’d you call?”

The line at the other end went silent, “Y/N, both the boys have come down with a nasty flu, almost sounds like croup cough, I can’t make it to the panel at the con tomorrow night, can you possibly fill in for me? Please?” You could hear his concern and anxiousness through your poor connection. “Its just a classic J2M panel, the producers wanna make an event of it and have your appearance be a surprise.”

You rolled your eyes at the theatrics of your bosses, always a publicity stunt with those folks. But you also knew Jared wouldn’t miss a panel for nothing, especially considering he had just launched a new campaign for his charity and was planning on doing giveaways at this convention, so you resolutely made up your mind and decided to be helpful and agreed. Jared promptly listed off the details, saying he’d already booked your flight (presumptuous jerk), and where and when to be there.

Sighing, with Circe still in your arms, you crawled back into bed, designating the rest of the day to absolute nothingness, since your laziness tomorrow was so horrifically taken from you. You pulled your duvet over the two of you and resolutely fell back into slumber.

A few hours later, you awoke to Circe batting relentlessly at your forehead, obviously requiring food since it was now late afternoon and very far past her mealtime. Chuckling and swatting back at her, you crawled out of bed for the second time that day and proceeded to prepare yourself for your flight and the convention.

Riffling through your half of the closet and eying the other half, you realized that you knew exactly what to wear, and packing a chambray dress into your small carryon made you chuckle and dance around with glee. Reaching down to the lower shelf to grab a pair of fashionable sneakers, you felt a little woozy standing back up. Shaking it off (and trying not to think about how you spent the weekend prior with Jared and his gremlins), you straightened yourself and traipsed downstairs with your light(ish) bag in hand. Circe was running into things and skidding over the hardwood as you prepared her breakfast (now dinner). Man, she really was getting kinda chubby…

After setting up a meal for her and getting something prepared for yourself, you settled down at the kitchen table, realizing that this apartment seemed much too large when it was just the two of you around. Banging your foot against the metal leg of your chair, you listened as it clanged around the apartment and seemed to reflect the sounds you thought you might hear if the vast skyline of Vancouver in front of you had any sounds at all. Listening to the echoes of the metal around your apartment, you sat and gazed out the window, remembering when you had went in for your first audition with Supernatural, an extra - a waitress just doing her job. Being one of the only Canadians on set, your accent was definitely a laugh for the boys and a cause for a great deal of eye rolls for you. Rubbing the back of your neck absentmindedly, you wondered if your neck issues were due to all exaggerated rolls of the eyes that you did (you blamed that habit on Misha, master of the unnecessary flamboyant annoyed facial gesture). Could you get compensation for your acupuncture for this? Frowning to yourself, you doubted it…

Walking across the cold tiles never ended well for you, even in your moccasins, and as you haphazardly tossed your dishes into the sink to worry about later, you almost biffed it for probably the hundredth time that month. That was it, you scowled, you were getting carpets, man cave or not, the feminine feel of a rug was absolutely worth the lack of bruises on your purpled bottom. Although you had to admit, a majority of the bruises were due to falling during wild shrieking chases around the unit, not you being a clumsy oaf (which you were).

You flopped down on the couch with a sigh, Circe coming to nestle in against your thigh, and you grabbed your laptop from the coffee table in front of you to print out the tickets Jared said he’d send you. Finding the email easily, you proceeded to print them off, grabbing them and a bowl of haphazardly made popcorn from a few days ago and settled into the couch for a few hours of your current television addiction.

You awoke to the sounds of a foreign show, yours obviously over and live TV was blaring through the speakers. Checking your watch, you realized that it was nearly one in the morning, curious as to why you had slept for so long after napping away the morning, you proceeded to shower and prepare for the flight ahead. All the months travelling with the show for conventions had left you used to flying, and you prepared for the early flight with ease, finding you had time to spare and cuddled under the covers of your bed for some much needed reading.

You found it hard to concentrate on your book, thinking of all the ridiculous things your producers had probably planned for you for the coming day, smiling to yourself about the antics you were probably going to be allowed to get up to in order to appease the fans -  Jared not showing up was a big deal, after all, he never failed to remind you that he was cast member number one, and everyone fell after him. Shaking your head slightly, you reminisced about all the crap he got away with that nobody else could simply because he was the star of a show and a family you had come to love.

Glancing at the clock on the wall and tossing your book to the side, you decided now was as good a time to head out as any, and you kept yourself busy driving to the airport, boarding the plane, and sitting for hours in the uncomfortable chairs, happy with the mundanity of it all and the comfort of flying. Although, you felt a headache coming on, and gesturing to the stewardess, you asked for a drink to calm your nerves. Sipping on it casually while listening to music, you felt the dull ache in your forehead go away, and you shut your eyes in relaxation.

Landing in the city of the convention, you looked around at the small airport, wondering where you could go from here, and glanced around for planes from foreign regions, you always loved looking at the decals on the planes for places you probably would never go.

Making your way into the baggage claim area, you looked around for the car that was supposed to pick you up, a quick glance later and you saw your name in the hands of a monotonous man in a black suit, as per usual.

Making your way towards him and handing him your carryon, you got into the back seat of the car and were looking out the window as you made your way to the convention. You had to admit, this place seemed pretty nice, maybe you’d have to come back here to visit on your own.

Getting out of the car and thanking the driver gratefully, you made your way towards the door, and the gust of wind that blew up felt very uncomfortable against your face. Opening up the tote you had brought, you popped out a few pills for headaches and downed them with a heady gulp.

Following the excited girls and boys, you made your way to the administration, requesting your ID badge and location of your event. Following the map there, you were stopped by a few avid fans of the show, since you were only on a handful of episodes, only certain people were really interested in seeing you and getting photos with you, and many people only liked you for the way you interacted with the boys, bringing out their goofy and playful sides with ease.

Finding yourself backstage to where Jensen and Misha had just started, you grabbed a glass of what looked like juice in order to reduce the dull throbbing behind your eyes and get your blood sugar up. You were pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t in fact juice, and that Jensen had probably requested it back here in order to help him steel his nerves, he always worried when he let the fans down, and he would be especially anxious because of Jared’s no show.

You finished the first glass and reached for a second, glad for the way it softened the edges of your vision and dulled the ache in your head. Sitting down and waiting for the cue from one of the coordinators, you relaxed and leaned your head against the wall, today was not your day already, even just a few hours in! Admittedly, you had been up since before the crack of dawn, but you also slept away most of your Saturday, so you were a little confused about your current state.

When someone popped their head in to tell you to get ready, your phone went off with an irritatingly shrill sound, you glanced down at it to see a message from Jared, reading: “Circe is fat because Jensen feeds her two scoops! ;)”

Oh no! That wasn’t cool! You had been feeding her diet snacks in an attempt to help her lose some pounds, and here was Jensen feeding her extra to compensate for that? A little livid and feeling a little malicious, you smirked to yourself and came up with a wicked idea. Standing up, and toppling a little, you made your way over to the question line up, the fans politely allowed you to step in front of them.

With your best impersonation of a little child, you asked Jensen and Misha from the back of the room, “Why is Circe so fat?” To which Misha squinted a little bit and caught sight of you before laughing and walking circles on stage, but where you were situated Jensen couldn’t see you, and as he tried to look around the fans you hid from his view with glee. Ducking a little to avoid his gaze, you felt your head spin slightly. Oh crap, did it say anything on the label for the headache pills you took and combining them with alcohol? Oh no no no, now you understood your disinhibition and increased clumsiness.

You proceeded to question Jensen in your best childish voice, “Do you feed her too much? Y/N posted on social media that he was fat!” You placed your hand over the mic and muffled laughter, all the fans closing in on you, realizing what you were doing, and laughing with you. In fact, you felt a few stray hands grasping at the button on your dress, and other questionable things, but with the gang surrounding you, you couldn’t identify which faces belonged to which hands.

At this point, Misha had stopped chuckling to himself and began to play along, speaking clearly over the microphone and saying exactly what you wanted to hear. “In fact dear fan,” he paused then, giving Jensen a wicked smirk, which caused Jen to squirm in his seat, knowing what Misha was about to say would get him in trouble. “Jensen does feed her! Twice as much as she’s supposed to!” Jensen turned beet red and flustered, mumbling into the mic about how she gave him sweet eyes and he just had to give her more, he was staring down at the floor and scuffing his boots against the flooring on stage.

“I knew it!” You shrieked shrilly, watching his reaction at recognizing your voice, he first broke into a huge hopeful grin, before realizing how much trouble he was in as his face blanched. Leaving the crowd that had gathered around you and hidden you from sight, you made your way up to the stage, laughing maniacally the whole way. Jensen was on his way to greet you, his arms open wide, a smile on his face that you knew was reserved just for you, bringing out the dimple in his cheek, his face flushed to the point where you could no longer identify his freckles, and his green eyes gleaming at you. Even though it had just been a day, you intended to grab onto him and never let go, and based on his expression he planned to do the same. Many of your family and friends found it excruciatingly painful being around the two of you, since you both latched onto each other like it was the last chance you would see each other, and cared for one another so deeply Misha and Jared often complained how saturated the room was with your love.

Attempting to make your way up to the stage and clamber up, you hoisted yourself up with your arms onto the stage, dangling there unceremoniously, your dress slowly riding up, as Jensen gripped you underneath of your armpits and easily carried you to the safety of the stage. You just stood in his arms in awe, his strength and how you felt when you two were touching never ceased to amaze you.

Forgetting where you were entirely, you wrapped your arms enthusiastically around his neck, nuzzling into him, and his strong arms wrapped around your back, squeezing tightly briefly before caging you in a loose net of his heat. Looking out towards the crowd and waving, you snatched the microphone from Jensen, and shouted, “I’m Y/N! Look, Jensen and I match!” Jumping up and down in his arms, Jensen just shook his head at you, kissed your temple, and rolled his eyes when the crowed responded accordingly, the chambray of your dress and his dress shirt matching almost entirely in tone, and the two of you both wearing coordinating brown belts.

“It looks like you two just walked out of a Sears catalogue,” Misha chuckled, coming up behind you, and Jensen, yourself, and the crowd laughed at his comment enthusiastically.

You made your way over to the chair that Jensen had been seated in, almost missing it entirely as you toppled precariously on the edge of the seat.

Jensen watched you the entire time, eyes gleaming, before recognition crossed his features, and he asked “Have you been having some of my apple juice, baby?” You bit your lip and nodded enthusiastically, earning a chuckle from the crowd at your demeanour and the hour of the day.

He rolled his eyes and came to stand behind you, a hand resting on your shoulder and the other on the back of his chair, rubbing soothing circles into your clavicle with his thumb. You glanced up at him over your shoulder, gaining on of the smiles you knew were yours, and yours alone, and proceeded to sneeze all over Jensen.

He barely even flinched, just laughed down at you, and you said, “I think I’m getting sick,” with a slight frown, to which he responded with “then I guess I’ll have to take care of you,” an encouraging pat on the shoulder followed, warming you with the love you felt for this man and the love you knew he returned. 

anonymous asked:

Yooooo can you do #6 where hey have a really big heated fight and it gets violet with throwing things and hitting stuff and then you run out into the rain by your scared and you drive to the other end of the city and your car gets towed so you're like sitting in the freezing cold rain and Calum finds you and picks you up and it's really cute and he warms you up and says sorry???


A/N: Sorry it’s long, I got carried away with it and I just loved it too much. Hope you like it!!! xx

Words: 1,164


# 6- “Stay there, I’m coming to get you”

You don’t even know how it started, but here you are standing in your shared apartment having a  argument with your boyfriend. You just went out to have some fun with your girls and then Jenn Phipps shows up and tells you that Calum never loved you and he’s still fucking her behind your back. You obviously were livid, so you got into a fight. Calum came and picked you up and drove you home. He didn’t say a single word to you until you got into the apartment when you finally opened your mouth.

“So you’re telling me that you’re defending her?! You didn’t even stand up for me!” you yelled through blurry eyes. You were seeing red, but at the same time you were on the verge of a meltdown.

“Can you just fucking shut up for one minute and let me explain?!” he yelled back, his neck vein becoming prominent. You just shook your head, you weren’t having any of it. You were done.

Keep reading

A Smoke Break

(Assume Gaster!Sans/Papyrus post pacifist)

He felt the snow crush under his sneakers. It felt strangely familiar to him. Even though he was in a very different place, it felt a little like home. New York City. The tallest city you could ever live in American. It felt fitting to him and his brother. Tall building, lots of jobs, fun events.

Sans walked across the small balcony. Snow crushed under every step. He took out a cigarette from his jacket pocket. “Finally,” he said not knowing he has said it aloud.

With a flick of a lighter, his smoke was ablaze. He leaned his body weight into the railings to look down. He was on the 70th floor. What a wonderful floor number to be on. Him and Papyrus liked to call this place home.

Sans, honestly, was happy that he was free. Free from all the worries past has given him. Free from all of the experiments. Free from his father, although they may be stuck together.

Sans stood back up straight. He sighed at the thought he would never truly become free from his father and all of their workings. Strange enough as it sounds, Sans began to work a full time job as a scientist. His love for science did not go away after moving to the surface. He was happy about that, more money the better the job.

He looked around, pulling his smoke from his jaw. He did not blow out smoke, however. The smoke seemed to come out of his eye sockets and mouth on its own. Everyone gave him a weird glare when that had happened. Sans was never sure the reason, though. It was normal for him. He is a skeleton, after all.

Putting the cigarette back into his jaw, he noticed something different in the air. It was no smoke. It was something else.

It was his magic. It was in the air floating like fog around his skull. He turned around. He saw his brother looking at him. Papyrus seemed to be smirking.

Papyrus, who was also fused with their father, knew that Sans has too much magic to contain his small body. Usually it was shown with a thick layer of it surrounding his body, but since the change it has been burned with the smoke.

Sans looked at the yellow fused air in interest. He always thought it was curious to have to “burn” magic. Though, he’s been able to show his skeletal body in public more often then not. He almost always had not have a shirt on. All he had on was a jacket and a pair of jeans. He knew some of the new human laws they had to go by, but not all of them. He had to find out all of them before he could do whatever he wanted. The last thing he wants is to be arrested in the human world.

Papyrus was cooking dinner. Steadily stirring the homemade pasta, he was smiling. His brother had finally accepted the change of place and scenery. Papyrus’ turtleneck sweater was warming him. Papyrus turned around, once more.

Sans stood there. He did not notice Papyrus was looking at him, and instead looked out into the distance. The city was strangely still. Pretty much all the humans knew that the monsters came from the underground to have peaceful lives on the surface, but ignored the fact that they were human. Humane. Civilized. The only difference between humans and monsters was their forms and souls.

Sans suddenly felt a magical fire in his left eye. It hurt, but it always did. This time was worse then a lot of times, but it did not change his movements.

Pain. Harm. Terror. The three things only his father gave him, before they fused. He wanted to escape. He wanted to go as far away from his father as he could.

His cigarette dropped to the ground. It had been fully smoked. No point in a smoke with no smoke left in it. He turned around to see his brother putting the spaghetti he had just made onto a large plate.

Sans stepped into the cigarette and rubbed it on the ground of the balcony so that nothing would catch fire. Sans opened the glass door. With a large sigh of relief, he sat down. His brother smiling as he did so. They both smiled at each other.

This is how it was supposed to be.

(Another Gaster!Sans story)

New Ways to Wear Your Converse

5 tried-and-true sneaker looks to copy now

Tired of wearing the same old thing every weekend? Then listen up. Sneakers go with everything - literally, everything - so it’s time to get creative and start pairing your Converse with some new threads. Dress them up or down and invest in some new styles to get even more use out of the cult favorite sneaker. See how five guys wore theirs and shop their looks below.

1. Go the relaxed route

Wear them with comfortable trousers or nice sweatpants in a rich color and a soft shirt for a laidback hipster look. Even better, pair them with a scruffy beard.

Blogger Josh Johnson of The Kentucky Gent

Raw Edge Long Sleeve Tee

ZANEROBE Sureshot Burgundy Jogger Pant

Chuck Taylor® All Star® Low Sneaker (Men)

2. Dress down a nicer look

This guy knows exactly how to mix sophisticated and relaxed style. Pair a blazer, sweater and slim-fit trousers in similar shades with a fresh pair of sneakers for the perfect Casual Friday look.

Sneakers go with everything - literally, everything - so it’s time to get creative.

Street style via People & Styles


Upton Stretch Cotton Jacquard Blazer

ASOS Skinny Chinos

Converse Chuck Taylor® Low Sneaker (Men)

3. Put a spin on something dapper

A pair of oxfords or monk-strap shoes would have been the obvious choice here, but wearing white sneakers with a dark outfit of nice basics makes things much more interesting.

Blogger Talun Zeitoun of The Rebel Cavalier in Margiela x Converse sneakers

Trim Felted Fedora

single breasted wool coat

All Star low-top leather trainers

4. Do old-school cool in classic high-tops

High-top Converse give off a rock ‘n roll vibe that’s unmatched in newer, sleeker shoes. Pair them with rolled-up black jeans and a bomber jacket to complete the i’m-in-a-rock-band look.

High-top Converse give off a rock 'n roll vibe that’s unmatched in newer, sleeker shoes.

Blogger Matthias Cornilleau of Stylnoxe

Leather Bomber Jacket

17cm Skinny Coated Denim Jeans

Chuck Taylor® High Top Sneaker (2 for $82)

5. Keep things simple and tailored

To avoid looking sloppy, wear a clean pair of chucks with cropped, tailored trousers and a fitted t-shirt. Simple accessories like a black belt, watch and classic sunglasses tie the relaxed look together. 

Blogger Bryan Skeen of State and Standard in Jack Purcell sneakers

Little America Nylon Backpack

18cm Wool Jacquard Zero Gravity Pants

Jack Purcell Canvas Sneakers

Like what you see? Search for more men’s clothing and accessories here.

Hip to the Bone

Three rules for adding plaid into your winter wardrobe

We’re calling out one of winter’s most talked about menswear patterns: the plaid print. From lumberjack button-downs to Chuck Bass suits, there are many different ways to wear the checkered pattern. In order to avoid the pitfalls of wearing a complicated print, we have three simple rules you need to follow.  

Ryan Gosling, King of Casual Plaid Dressing

Rule 1 - Avoid Other Prints

The easiest way to ruin your outfit is to mix plaid with another print. Wearing a plaid shirt? Go for jeans or a solid colored pant. 

Government Camp Shirt

Nudie Jeans Co - Thin Finn Slim Fit in Organic Dry Ecru Embo

Rule 2 - Add Plaid Accessories

Feeling unsure about a full plaid look? Try adding accessories to a solid color outfit, which helps to bring some life to your outfit. Start with ties, bow-ties, scarves and even sneakers.

Advocate Plaid Necktie

Windowpane Plaid Bow Tie

Dot with Plaid Reversible Bow Tie

Gloverall Lambswool Tartan Scarf

Wool Plaid and Shearling Trapper

Lanvin Plaid Felt & Leather Sneaker, Blue/Red

Rule 3 - Match Your Shirt to Suit  

When you wear a plaid suit, it will be the center of attention. Our advice is to keep your accessories simple: black or brown shoes and belt are neutral. Your shirt, however, should bring out the strongest color in the plaid print. This is where a solid white shirt can work for a grey and white plaid suit or a banker’s blue shirt looks great under a light brown suit with blue undertones. 

Pro-Tip: If you want to wear plaid on plaid, make sure that the plaid check on your shirt is smaller than the check print on your suit. 

Fitzgerald Fit Black and White Plaid with Blue Deco 1818 Suit

Regent Fit Brown Plaid with Blue Deco 1818 Suit

Separation Anxiety (Chapter 8)

Tony, Ziva, and Tali spend their time in Paris sightseeing, and grow closer in the process.

Read on Fanfiction Ao3


Chapter 8 - Family

It was a beautiful morning and they had the window open, listening to the sounds of the city below as they got ready to go out for the day. Tony had just finished taking a shower and was still in the bathroom getting dressed, and Ziva was going through Tali’s bag in order to get her ready to go. She came across a t-shirt with a skull on it, rolling her eyes and remembering the only woman who would have possibly bought it.

It was actually cute, though, so that plus a pair of jeans would be perfect for today, so Ziva laid them out on the table before going back into the bag for a pair of socks and sneakers. She felt along the bottom of the bag, her finger catching on a chain, and when she pulled it out of the bag, Ziva saw that it was her Star of David necklace. “Mine!” Tali said as Ziva held it up, and it was at that moment that Tony chose to emerge from the bathroom, clad only in boxers.

She had only a moment to get distracted by his near-nudity before Tali shouted, “Mine!” more insistently at her, standing on her tiptoes as she reached for the necklace.

“You gave it to her?” Ziva asked, a lump forming in her throat. She probably would have done the same, perhaps when Tali was old enough to appreciate it, but she was touched that Tony had immediately wanted to give Tali something of her, even when it was the only thing of hers he’d had left.

She reached down and put the chain around Tali’s neck, telling her to be careful with it in Hebrew, that it was precious.

“It seemed to calm her down. You don’t mind, do you?”

She smiled at him before bending over to pick Tali up for a hug. “Not at all,” she answered, turning from him so that she could get Tali dressed for the day.

Read More (or on Ao3)

No Light [ NG AU ]

                And then it hit me, like an old, tarnished light-bulb finding the power to light one last time. I love him. Not loved, love. I love Hamilton Nash Grier. I always have and I always will. My eyes instantly flickered over to the clock which anxiously ticked away. His train would be leaving any minute now and then he’d be out of my life permanently. I couldn’t have that happen, I would not have that happen. Without bothering to grab the keys to my car, I bolted out of the house as if my life depended on it, which, in a way, it did. The road was pitch black, the only source of light was the surprisingly bright street lights that blazed the path I had to take in order to save everything Nash and I had created together. I felt my sneakers propel my body forward as I silently thanked God for the years of track my parents forced me to take, but within seconds my thoughts drifted back to Nash. Our previous fight just an hour prior to now still haunted my thoughts as our hate-filled words drifted through my mind. He never wanted to see me again. He didn’t care about me anymore. He didn’t love me anymore. No, stop it. Focus.

                The train station was about ten minutes away from the house and I knew that if I pushed it I could make it before midnight struck, but would the train have left already? Adeline coursed through my veins as the cool, winter air shoved in the direction I was running in, as if it too was encouraging me to chase after him. My heart had never beaten as quickly as it currently was in my entire existence and it both frightened me and excited me. I was so stupid to hold everything I had to say in and because I hadn’t said my thoughts I had lost the only thing that made life worth living. I had lost my everything, but I was now living off of the belief that my life could be saved. That I could save our relationship and that things would somehow be like they used to in the beginning.

                It wasn’t until a few minutes later did the lights of a train appear through the obscure night. Without thinking, I screamed his name out, forcing my aching body to move faster as I tore through the night. I felt the little bit of hope I clutched to slowly begin to slip away from my grasp as tears brimmed the edges of my eyes, blurring my vision as I raced through the waiting zone for the train. Whipping around to find his familiar, gorgeous face, all that I could find was emptiness. Nash wasn’t there.

                I was too late.

So what do you guys think? Should I make this into a story and update weekly? Feedback is much appreciated especially if you would like to see this become a story (: