i adore that last part

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guess that fate brings them together in one way…or another! Haechan forever promoting his Mark hyung ♥

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you boys♡ (≧∇≦)

Yours Truly III [j.j.]

Originally posted by juggiehead


a lil birthday post now that I finally replaced my phone based on “Adored by Him” by dodie. also, I think this will be the last part.


Masterlist

Dear Jughead,

Don’t you just hate it when your crush likes someone who’s prettier, smarter, and all around better than you? Yeah, me too.

I know you guys are both taking that advanced class. I know because you were so nervous when you signed up, convinced that you weren’t going to get in.

Of course you got in. You became even more excited when the teacher called me into her office, claiming that she needed me to be in her “prestigious program”. I declined. You were upset with my choice and spent the rest of the semester trying to take it.

I didnt.

If I had know that this class would take up so much of your time, I might’ve changed my mind…OK I wouldn’t have, but I don’t know anymore. Now, I see you together nearly all the time. I think what sucks the most is that all of my friends know that I like you. And they think you like me too.

But why would you? You spend a lot more time with Betty, you talk so much, work so well together. I see the way she looks at you. The way she acts. She’s just as far gone as I am. They told me she liked you and my heart broke. They told me to tell you how I feel, before she could do the same.

But I haven’t done that. I’ve stepped back and I’d rather wait for her to confess to you. Everyone’s surprised, thinking that I would’ve already said something, whether it be to you or about her.

But I won’t talk about her. My friends thought that I’d dislike her but why would I? She’s an amazingly talented, sweet, intelligent girl who deserves nothing but good things in her life.

You are a good thing.

I gave up on those cheesy pick-up line notes after a week. What’s the point? I’m a mess and honestly, she’s so much better for you than I am. I don’t care that our friends say we’re perfect for each other. The truth is that we’re not.

I’m bitchy and mean and way too self absorbed for my own good. So I guess this is just me letting it all out.

I hope you like her, I truly do but I don’t wanna know. You’re good for each other. Healthy. The perfect couple.

And so my confession will go unspoken.

Love,
(Y/N)

You looked up at the clock on the wall of the diner, glancing at Jughead as you began packing you things.

“Leaving already?” He asked.

You nodded as you stood up. “Yep. Gotta help out with chores. See you later.”

Jughead barely acknowledged your departure, lazily waving as you walked out the door. His eyes focused on a small black object that was next to your seat, gasping a bit when he realized it was your journal.

“(Y/N/N) wait! You left your…” Jughead trailed off as he realized you were long gone, and smiled when a small Polaroid picture slipped out from the journal.

It was the two of you at Archie’s birthday party a while back. You had been leaning on his shoulder, laughing at some lame joke, while he had his arm around you, looking down fondly at you.

Jughead found himself smiling fondly as he looked at the picture before opening your journal to put the picture back. He froze as he read the top of the page. ‘Dear Jughead’ was messing scrawled on it and even though he knew better, he began to read.


A few minutes later, Betty slid into the booth across from him, wide smile and a blush placed across her face. Her smile faltered as she saw Jughead’s face twisted up in disbelief.

“Juggie, are you okay?” she asked.

Jughead shook his head slowly, still reeling from what he had just read in your journal. “Do you know where (Y/N) is right now?”

Betty’s eyes widened. “She should be at home right now but-”

“I gotta go, I’ll see you tomorrow Betts,” Jughead said as he rushed out of the diner.

He had finally seen what was inside your journal, and he was completely speechless.


Tag List: @blisshbee, @wisestydia14, @cleohalestilinski, @do-somethinglovely, @divastar777, @localagoraphobic, @gabiwella, @loveinfxnitelyx, @kanye—west, @unicornqueen05, @that1chic-xoxo, @melinadufort, @casismyguardianangel, @rxggie-mxntle, @demigodofthesun, @katshrev, @professionalphangirluniverse, @jugheads-lawyer, @cyberfoxlili, @iwannadiehere, @lostinpercyseyes, @millygwiazda, @theselfishllama, @pegacorn24, @apocalypticangell, @fandomsrlove, @mcheung0314, @fangites, @isabellaskyliner, @nooneshoney, @itsjaynebird, @fandomsandotherstuff, @xbobaaa, @betty-coopers-number-one-stan, @lost-in-wonderland-x, @bubblegumcat229, @yazminmcd, @thesuitelifeofjughead, @bex09, @day-dreaming-nightmare, @eternal-peril-for-all, @mrs-jughead-jones, @onceuponagladerhead (pls tell me if I missed anyone)

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Happy 25th Birthday Tsubasa-chan ♥ 2017.06.27

[real talk though; when is woozi gonna bless us with his glorious forehead again ? because it’s been too long and we’re way too deprived]

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[what was your defining moment as best friends?]
Eve: Probably getting naked in Germany. Not really. We’ve had a lot don’t we?
John: This is going to be a gushy moment. There was something about Eve when I met her […] She’s someone I’d do anything for. If she were to call at 4 o'clock in the morning no matter where I would be in the world, or what was happening, If she rang up -and I know it would be the same with me- I would drop everything to help her or to go be with her. [x] [more torchwood cast]

The English Tutor

Warning(s): none besides cuteness from a minor
Word Count: 440
Genre:fluff
A lovely annon asked me to free write a Sanha scenario and the idea hit me with a bus while i was at school…


The hardest thing was to get and keep Sanha focused during your tutoring session. With Astro’s debut less than three weeks ago, he’s been pretty busy. On the rare occasion that he could actually attend school, you would tutor him in between classes and sometimes during your lunch period. But recently he’s been having more trouble focusing than usual. “Sanha, I know you have a lot going on, but you can’t do anything if you fail this test!“ you say, catching him staring off into space for the fifth time since your session started. “Sorry” he smiles apologetically and goes back to his book. “Next you’ll have to read the sentence and translate it back to Korean.“ you point at the next problem on the sheet. “good job!” you say. “Now here you’ll create your own English sentence. I have to make a call and I’ll check the sheet when I get back.“ you get up from the table and walk to a different section of the study hall. When you return you hold out your hand for Sanha to hand you the sheet he had been working on. As you look over the sheet that contains Sanha’s small handwriting that had gotten better over the years you notice the last question. On the section where he was asked to write his own English sentence, in the neatest writing he could muster, he’s scribbled ‘Will you go out with me?’ You look at him, obviously confused. “You’ve always been like a helpful sister to me, or so I thought.” Sanha begins to explain. “I know I’ve been really unfocused and fidget a lot lately. And that’s because I’ve realized I’m slightly uncomfortable around you. Well not like that, but in a good way. Well I guess its kinda bad too but its mostly good.“ I giggle quietly at his rambling and he smiles, showing his braces, before continuing. “Anyway, I became uncomfortable only because I didn’t know how to tell you what I felt. I honestly didn’t know what I felt. Then I realized that I really like you. I don’t wanna be just the guy you go to in order to talk about your ex. I wanna be the guy you brag about to your friends. The guy who you’re proud to hold his hand around school.” he pauses. “Will you go out with me?“ he says the last part in his adorable English. I stiffle a giggle and nod your head. “I’d love that” “REALLY?!?!“ Sanha shouts before getting up and doing a happy dance. You laugh at how adorable he is. This is the boy you’ve had a crush on since first grade.


I tried i know its probably bad but I’m tired guys goodnight~

Originally posted by iamlatinaandilovekpop

anonymous asked:

Okay so on your BSS series, first off I adore it!! Secondly, I know in the last part they are all kinda flirting with her to get in her head, but what if they all ended up falling for her and everything just gets more messy from there lol, idk I thought it was maybe a good idea, but i'm not sure what your long term plans were for the storyline.

Yes! That’s amazing, thank you nonny 💙💙

theheartshapedsunglasses  asked:

jim and sherlock play chess together. it's almost too cliche for the two of them, but they sit around and play when the boredom gets to be too much and sometimes sherlock gets a message at 3 in the morning, "pawn e6" and they play for hours. jim plays black. when they actually use a chess board, the game will be drawn out for days-- conflicting schedules and all that. sherlock notices, three months after jim's death, that they never finished their final chess game. he aches in his chest.

…. i was typing “awwww that’s adorable” when i got to the last part. wow. thanks. i didn’t need my heart anyway. 

Writing Check-in, When the Moon Ch 14 (#4)

Posted for Wee Anon <3


“I, um… I used to eat a lot of my mom’s cooking,” he explains in a small, quiet voice. “She’s actually a really good cook but…her meals always left me feeling empty, somehow. Dad could make the same meal the exact same way and it would be totally different. You could taste the affection; it filled you up, somehow.”

“I know what you mean,” I answer with a smile, tipping my face just enough to brush noses with him. “Your food tastes of the most wonderful things, every last bite of it. Things like comfort and laughter and autumn sunsets,” I explain, neatly leaving off the thing I love most. The thing that flows out of him in golden waves and bathes everything in its gentle glow but can never ever belong to me.

He chuckles faintly. “That’s not surprising,” he says. “I mean, it’s a little surprising that you could taste such specific things, not that they were there.”

“Food is like a language with you,” I tell him, leaning back to meet his eyes. “It took me a little while to learn it, but now it’s almost like looking at one of your pictures or hearing you tell a beautiful story.”

His free hand reaches up to brush my cheek. “You’re too clever by half, Katniss Everdeen,” he says softly. “Is that how you did it?”

I shake my head in puzzlement. “Did what?” I wonder.

He takes one beribboned braid between his thumb and forefinger and gently follows the silky red strand from root to tail. “This meal tastes like happiness,” he murmurs, curling the tail of my braid around his fingertip. “It’s bursting with it, actually; with happiness and affection and…and –” He breaks off with a sharp, strange cry, quickly stifled. “With…other wonderful things,” he says hoarsely.

That’s where the extra love went, I realize in horror. There was never a chance to store it away. It spilled out of me and right into his food.

For a brief, mad moment I wonder if I’ve poisoned him somehow. If I’ve drugged or sickened this precious boy by pouring enough love into his food to choke the veriest glutton.

“It tastes like home,” he goes on, “but…like a home I’ve never known before. A rich and wondrous place,” he breathes, “that might not even exist, or maybe never will.”

My breath catches in something like a whimper because I know what he tasted in this meal; what streamed through my fingertips as they cracked and sliced and stirred and fell like rain in the silver motes of my song: our home – this beautiful house in the woods – but the way that I see it. Pine smoke and cider and hearty rabbit stew, furs and skins and glorious old tales and a wild vixen with fairy blood who loves a golden prince with all her might.

He’s tasting my hunger for him: to hold him close and kiss him breathless, my mouth moving eagerly over every inch of his sweet, soft skin. To share bread and wine and lie together as husband and wife, merging our bodies with breathless, halting tenderness. To give him kits and chicks, kindled and carried in the secret hearth at the root of my belly.

Except he doesn’t know that. The images swirling through each bite – downy fox kits tumbling from eggshells of shimmering pearl, silky-furred goslings birthed from a womb and cradled to a dusky breast, a nest of catkin-studded willow branches threaded with miles of scarlet ribbon and lined with deerskin and furs and dandelion down – are straight out of the strangest folktale.

And he can’t ever be allowed to guess it. I have to guard my heart and hands more carefully, especially in these moments of joyous abandon, lest they betray the full appalling truth and he’s forced to send me away forever.

“It will exist, Peeta,” I vow, thinking of his Seam sweetheart and swallowing back my grief as I press my forehead against his. “One day, very soon. A home where you’re cherished and adored, every last part of you. It’s close,” I soothe, letting a single slender thread of the truth – my love for him – seep through in my voice. “So close, my sweet boy.”

He leans back with a sad smile to meet my eyes. “I can wait,” he says softly. “I could wait a hundred years if that place lay on the other side of it.”

I try to picture this sturdy Merchant boy cradling a newly hatched kitling in the bowl of a willow-cradle and wish that it wasn’t so easy, nor so heartbreakingly beautiful. “Not half so long as that,” I promise, mentally exchanging the kitling for a black- or golden-haired infant in turn – the likely offspring of his marriage – and finding it no less natural or painful. “And in the meantime I’ll give you as much of it – of that home,” I add quickly, “of that…that happiness – as I can.”

“You’ve already given me so much of it,” he murmurs. “So much more than you realize, Katniss. I think the full measure might well stop my heart.”

I force a clumsy chuckle. “Well, we don’t want that,” I say. “I’ll aim for seventy-five percent happiness.”

To my surprise this makes him laugh in turn, a bright, genuine chuckle that crinkles his eyes at the corners. “You’re nearing eighty already at the least, gosling mine,” he insists. “Throw in a cuddle-nest and it’s a solid eighty-five.”

I laugh heartily and the spell is broken, at least for the moment. “The cuddle-nest is a cert,” I assure him. “This gosling’s breakfast, however, appears to be a doubtful prospect –”

“Come here, you,” he growls playfully and hauls me up into his lap again, bringing my back flush against his chest. “I knew I had the right idea to begin with,” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist like a belt of warm steel. “Now you can have all you want and you get to decide when – or if – I get any more bites.”

“You’ll get bites,” I assure him. “All the bites you could possibly want. I want to keep my toes, after all.”

“I was going to ask about those,” he says. “The only other thing I asked for and you couldn’t be bothered to include them in your menu. Miserly vixen,” he scolds teasingly and I feel his mouth at my right shoulder, taking a mock-bite against the flannel, the way you pretend-gobble at a small child.

The place between my legs pulses faintly and I reach back to cup his downy-curled head and draw it over to my nape. “I knew I should’ve started with your beak,” I murmur and win a ragged sigh in response.

“Not my beak, please,” he whines against the sensitive ridge of my spine. “I need it for gobbling up eggy and biscuits and unwary vixens – and of course, for crowing your praises.”

“Are you a gander, a tom, or a rooster?” I tease, but because I love and want all of the things he just listed to take place, I don’t bother to protest further.