i don't know whether i should be looking forward to next week

Birthday Wishes (m)

Word Count: 6,309

Warning: Taehyung Smut

“Fucking great.”

You throw the card you’d been reading down onto the round metal table before you, glancing over it once more. The picture on the front is that of a city, the name written in italic in the top right corner. She hadn’t even tried to personalize the picture for you, nor the letter that is nothing more than a bad excuse.

“Do you want another cup o’ coffee?”

You raise your head up to the server, and answer his question with a nod accompanied by a bitter smile. “Yeah.”

He looks at you with a square smile, then takes your empty cup.

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anonymous asked:

I'm sorry, I don't really understand how submitting works, but I would really love something where the reader and Newt are really close and Queenie, recognizing a mutal attraction between the two, often teases & eventually gets them together. Thx!

Newt Scamander X Reader – A Little Pressure

A/N – I hope this is along the lines of what you mean, it was a toughie to write but one I was happy to finish.

Warnings – Single mention of dementia.

Rating – T


Originally posted by hardyness

Queenie flitted absentmindedly around the enclosures within Newt’s case, reminiscing the short time Jacob had spent there. Newt, Tina, and yourself had offered to leave her alone for a while but she’d declined the offer, insisting that she took comfort in your presence; in truth, she disliked the silence of being alone, even when nobody was speaking she took solace in hearing people’s unguarded thoughts.

All three of your voices filled Queenie’s mind now, stronger thoughts taking precedence over the others.

-have to find that escaped wizard, he’s a danger to himself.” Tina’s voice resounded worriedly as she thought once again about Yusuf Talim. Yusuf was an old wizard suffering from the later stages of dementia. He had recently escaped the American branch of St Mungo’s with a stolen wand and the Auror’s had been assigned the task of locating him. Tina had been concerned with his safety ever since, reviewing the case repeatedly in the hopes of finding something new. Queenie considered reassuring her sister but decided against it, knowing that nothing would help until Yusuf was safe and sound again.

“- I should ask now.” Newt’s much less confident voice broke through. “No… (s)he’d hate that… (s)he’d hate me.

Queenie couldn’t help the warm smile that lit up her face. Although she didn’t know what Newt was thinking about yet, she’d grown used to his constant inner arguments and conversations; she guessed that so much time spent alone made him converse with himself more than other people did.

Why? Why would you risk jeopardising your friendship?

Queenie listened intently, eager to know the topic of his discussion.

Because… (Y/N)’s always been there for me, (s)he doesn’t think I’m a freak like other people do… (S)he’s like sunshine… I want us to stay together… Forever.

Queenie looked over to you. You were on the other side of the case, using spellotape to temporarily patch up the tattered wall of the Savannah enclosure until Newt had time to fix it. She focused on you, listening to the thoughts on your mind. As it were, you were just mentally humming along to George Olsen’s “Just a Little Thing Called Rhythm.

Queenie shook her head dispiritedly, while she was sure you had consumed most of Newt’s thoughts, she wondered if he was ever in yours; up until now, you did seem to be a little dense when it came to romance.

She approached Newt, startling him when she spoke, “You should tell (Y/N) how you feel honey, I’m sure it’d be better than constantly worrying about it.”

“Wha- I-” Newt stumbled, before sighing and slumping despondently against the nearest rock, “(S)he doesn’t like me that way…”

“Have you asked?”

“I don’t need to. We’ve worked together for a year now… I’d know if-” He stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

“What if (Y/N) feels the same way hmm? Maybe (s)he’s too scared to say as well.”

Newt shook his head rapidly, resembling some of the creature’s he spent so much time with.

“We’ll never find out this way.” Queenie tutted impatiently. “(Y/N).” She shouted, gaining both your attention and Tina’s.

Newt shot up, panic stricken, “Q-Queenie what are you doing? Queenie!” He spoke in a hushed, agitated tone.

Queenie ignored him, “(Y/N), Newt wanted to know something. Would you consider-” She paused for effect, “-working with dragons?”

Newt released a strained breath.

You grinned excitedly, “Sure, I’d love to. Think we could, Newt?”

Newt squeaked something along the lines of a ministry ban, puzzling you further.

“Alright.” You huffed. “Why bother asking then?”

Queenie turned to Newt again, “Newton Scamander,” she bubbled, “if it takes me all my best efforts, I will get you to confess your feelings to (Y/N). Excuse me.”

She skipped away, leaving Newt to sweat nervously next to the Bowtruckle tree which Pickett was trying desperately to escape from, “You know Pickett… I’m afraid she really means that.”

Pickett nodded in agreement, making a big swing from a branch onto Newt’s arm as they watched Queenie walk away.


As time passed, Queenie grew bored of waiting for Newt to confess his feelings towards you. As such, she’d resorted using whatever methods necessary to get the two of you together. Sometimes, she wondered whether she was doing the right thing but she’d quickly remind herself that if she left the two of you alone, you would both waste too much time awaiting one-another.

After several weeks and numerous failed attempts, Queenie pondered her next course of action. So far, she’d tried a love potion, a truth potion, spells to trip him on top of you, and the excessive use of mistletoe; none of which went according to plan. That left only one more scheme, one that was so simple, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. Jealousy. However, there was limited time left to act as the ship bound for England was due to be in port in two days. With that in mind Queenie prepared a delectable meal for the three of you which could be described as nothing less than a miniature feast; Tina was staying late at work to finish some paperwork on Mr Talim who’d finally been captured and given a safer room within the St Mungo’s.

“So, (Y/N),” Queenie smiled genially at the dinner table where the three of you had slipped into casual conversation about anything and everything, “are you looking forward to England?”

“Yes.” You beamed, enrapturing Newt who suddenly seemed to forget his surroundings. “I can’t wait to see Newt’s book published, right Newt?”

“Hmm? Oh, r-right.” He blushed sheepishly.

“That’s nice.” Queenie remarked, moving on to the next phase of her plan. “What about romance (Y/N)? Anyone caught your eye?”

Clear images of Newt tending to his ‘children’ filled your mind’s eye, “No.” You lied breezily. “Can’t say anyone has.”

Newt relaxed, thankful that he didn’t have to picture you in the arms of somebody else.

“That’s fantastic.” Queenie pushed on.

“It is?” Your brow creased in confusion.

“Uh-huh. See, I have a pen-pal who used to work for the ACUSA and is now working for the Ministry of Magic and he’s simply dying to meet you, considering you’re not with anybody that is.”

“Oh um- Queenie, that’s really sweet of you but I’m uh, not really interested right now.”

“Are you sure? I mean, he’s exactly who I’d picture you with. He’s tall and handsome with a really great personality-”

Newt zoned out, unable to hear more about a man who was surely better for you than he could ever be. There was so much he wanted to end in that moment, the conversation, the uncomfortable expression in place of your usual smile, and the claustrophobic weight pressing down on him took priority on the growing list.

“Stop.” Newt mumbled, almost silently. When neither you or Queenie heard him, he shouted it, pushing up from the table with the loud scrape of his chair.

You shrunk away from his thunderous roar, a sound you’d never thought capable from the ever-gentle Newt.

“Newt,” You whispered cautiously, “are you feeling okay?”

“N-no (Y/N). I don’t- I can’t-” He couldn’t meet your eyes as he gripped the table for support.

“I don’t understand. What’re you trying to say? What do you want?”

“You.” He finished suddenly.

When you didn’t respond, Newt stalked out of the room with a strangled cry of, “I need to pack.”

“You feelin’ okay honey?” Queenie asked, struggling to make sense of your jumbled thoughts.

“Uh- No. Sorry Queenie, I need to talk to him, excuse me.” You left Queenie, heading to the room you and Newt had been sharing since Jacob left.

When you got there, Newt was nowhere to be found but his case was lying unclasped in the middle of the floor. You climbed in, heading straight for the animals where Newt always went when troubled. Sure enough, Newt was hunched on the floor, against the Occamy nest with his head in his hands, murmuring despondently to himself while various creatures surrounded him.

“I couldn’t have made it worse if I tried. Not only does (s)he know but you should have seen it… I never meant to scare (Y/N) like that.”

“You didn’t scare me.” You whispered quietly.

Newt lifted his head quickly, showing red stains where tears had fallen, “(Y/N)!”

“I was worried about you… I know you sometimes prefer being left alone but I’d like to talk if you’ll let me.”

Newt sat silently, awaiting your judgement.

“We’ve been travelling together for about a year now and you’ve never given any indication that you were interested in me so what’s going on?”

“(Y/N)… I was so afraid to tell you… so afraid that you’d treat me like everyone else did… so afraid that you’d leave. I always p-promised myself that one day I’d work up the c-c-courage to- But, when we were travelling it was all so s-secluded, there was no other wizard who could take you away from me. I don’t- No… I can’t see you with anybody else.”

“Then just say the words Newt. Say the words and I’ll be yours.” Your eyes bore into his, begging for something you were sure you wanted more than anything else at that moment.

“W-what words do you want to hear?”

“Whatever comes to your mind first.”

Newt was sure there were people who, if put in the same situation, could cite sonnets or powerful speeches that would move even the most stone-hearted of people but in that moment, he knew the only words that came to mind and he hoped they were what you longed to hear, “I- I love you.”

You bent down to his level, “I love you too.” You grinned weakly, grazing your lips lightly against his. Various crowing, howling, and squeaks erupted from the surrounding creatures until Newt was forced to quiet them by pulling away from you. The two of you sat in complete elation, content to simply be in one-another’s presence. Meanwhile, Queenie listened to the ecstatic thoughts coming from the confines of the case, proud of the night’s progress and the news she’d have for her sister when she came back.

2

DRAMIONE APPRECIATION WEEK (Day Three) One Scene

“She’s watching me warily, and I wonder if she’s expecting me to attack her. I place my wand down on the table and lift both my hands, palms facing her.

” I ’ m  n o t  g o i n g  t o  h u r t  y o u ,  G r a n g e r .  Y o u  d o n ’ t  h a v e  t o  b e  s o  s c a r e d . “

” I ’ m  n o t  s c a r e d , “  she says, colour rising to her cheeks.

She looks so beautiful when she’s angry. I can’t stop myself from prodding at her.

” R e a l l y ? “  I say, stepping around the coffee table. I stop when I’m standing right in front of her, but she meets my stare readily and doesn’t step away from me.  ” I ’ d  l i k e  t o  b e t  t h a t  y o u  a r e , “  I finish.

” A n d  w h a t  i f  I ’ m  n o t ? “  she challenges.

I consider crossing my fingers behind my back before making my wager. Bugger it, I don’t care. Here goes nothing.

"I’ll allow you to make one request of me, and I will carry it out without protesting or resisting, as long as it doesn’t expose my new relationship to the Order.”

Her eyes widen. She certainly hadn’t expected that.

“And I suppose that you’ll expect the same from me if I am scared?” she asks.

I grin. “Precisely.”

“Done. Now ow are you going to decide whether or not I’m scared of you?”

“Well, I could always take the easy way and use Legilimency on you,” I say. I smirk and continue, “But that’s no fun, is it? You want to have some fun, don’t you?”

I take another step, entering her personal space, and she automatically steps back, away from me.

“And you say you’re not scared.”

“Not scared, cautious,” she says.

I laugh lightly. “All right, then. You define what you’ll consider as scared, and I’ll test whether or not you’re scared of me.”

She sighs. “I really should be getting back.”

“Now that sounds like you’re scared.”

She glares at me. “I am not! Fine. If you can make me scream, or yelp, or…I don’t know, quiver with fear, then you win.”

“Sounds fair to me,” I say with a devilish grin.

I take the parchment from her and place it on the table behind me. Then I hold out my hand.

“Wand, please. You won’t be needing it.”

She looks at me carefully but doesn’t hand over her wand. Instead, she steps around me to put it down on the table, next to mine. I turn around to face her.

“Well, get started. I don’t have all night,” she says impatiently.

I grin. I don’t intend on scaring her at all. This bet isn’t for me to win. It’s just a test. And I can’t believe how easy it was to goad her into it.

“Close your eyes,” I say.

She eyes me distrustfully before closing her eyes. I take a moment to admire her face. Her lashes are long and dark, and they curl upward just slightly. She has dark eyebrows, maybe a shade darker than her russet brown hair. My eyes travel down to the curve of her small nose and rest on her lips.

Oh, fuck.

I extend my hands slightly so that they’re hovering around her wrists, down at her sides, prepared to grab them if she resists. Then I wait.

Impatiently, she opens her mouth to speak, but before she can get a sound out, I lean down and press my lips to hers, slipping my tongue into her open mouth. She tastes of strawberries and mint.

My doubt fades away. Hell, this is worth dying for.

Her hands start to move–to push me away, no doubt–but my hands wrap around her wrists, holding her arms down at her sides.

I explore her mouth and massage her tongue with mine, trying to elicit a response from her. Her stance is already loosening up, and her arms aren’t struggling against my grip anymore. I let my hands slide up her arms to rest on her shoulders, then bring them around her, tangling them in her long, bushy hair.

She lets out a shallow breath that flows into my mouth, and then her tongue comes alive, battling for dominance with mine. Fire courses through my veins as she wraps her arms around my neck to pull herself up against me. I don’t bother trying to hide my arousal and walk her backwards until she’s against the wall beside the fireplace.

When I decide that I need oxygen and start to back away, she takes a step forward, not allowing our lips to separate. I break the kiss, breathing unevenly.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

Her eyes are still closed, and her arms are still wrapped around my neck.

“You got that right,” she whispers breathlessly"

- Turncoat, Chapter 15

anonymous asked:

romione prompt: ron is nervous about leaving the aurors to start working at george's shop full time, but hemione talks him through it. thank you! :)

I know lots of people like Ron-as-a-baker headcanons so here is a little ficlet about that. I have baking on the brain thanks to GBBO… [AO3, for @hpshipweeks]

She wakes at two minutes to five to an empty bed and the smell of baking bread filling their small flat, so she shuffles into her slippers, yawning, and pads down the hallway to the kitchen. Sure enough, Ron is in there, silently kneading dough in just his pyjama bottoms. In the dim light of early dawn, she can see every muscle in his back outlined as he methodically pushes and pulls the bread. The sight fills her with longing and wonder, and she walks over, placing her hands on his shoulders and leaning her body into his. He pauses the kneading, and she feels rather than hears him let out a long breath.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asks, her voice still husky from bed.

“Bit nervous,” he confesses.

“Don’t be,” she says, taking a step backwards. “You’ve done it all before, you know.” She waves her wand, and all the candles in the kitchen are suddenly alight, adding to the light from the sun’s early rays coming through their window. Down below them, the city is asleep, still, and she finds herself pitying all the people in it who will not be waking to Ron’s freshly baked bread.

“Not like this, I haven’t,” he says. He turns around, a worried frown on his face, but before she can say anything to soothe him, he smiles.

“What?”

“Nice slippers,” he grins.

“Shut up,” she says, trying to supress her own smile. They’re pink and fluffy and absolutely hideous, but also the most comfortable things in the world. He bought them for her for their last anniversary—he had to honour the memory, he had said, of the first nightclothes he’d ever seen her in. She’d remembered the fluffy pink dressing gown she’d taken to Hogwarts in her first year, remembered night-time wanderings accidentally discovering three-headed dogs and just how very annoying her fellow first years could be, and had laughed and laughed.

Now, Ron dumps the dough in a tin, wipes his hands on a spare tea towel, and comes to stand with her over by the window. “I’m sorry if I woke you,” he says. “I was trying to be quiet.”

Hermione shakes her head. “You didn’t,” she says. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

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louuee  asked:

Derek, Cora and Peter don't come back after they leave at the end of 3a. Instead, they start a company and they're doing so well. College student Stiles applies for an internship and is shocked to find out who his boss is. Sterek happens. Thoughts?

(just a side note–it’s really hard to write acceptably formal and polite emails that don’t use somebody’s full name…)


To: haled@triskelebooks.net

From: meonenims@gmail.com

Mr. Hal,

I am very excited about the prospect of working with your company this summer. I, too, believe that the supernatural world has been grossly exploited in recent years as a fad that has become perhaps inexplicably popular with the general public, overshadowing the true world of those who do believe in the lesser explored aspects of our world. Though I would perhaps not admit to believing arbitrarily in vampires and such other creatures that commonly populate horror movies and children’s nightmares, I must admit that my own personal experience prohibits me from disregarding any rumor of the supernatural. With this in mind, working for a company such as yours, which seeks to provide unbiased and nonjudgmental accounts of the supernatural from cultures spanning the globe seems like a perfect fit for me. 

Forgive my perhaps unprofessional enthusiasm, but I feel that those at your company would understand perhaps better than anyone my support for books about an aspect of life which is believed fiction by so many people (although, I can attest that they are perfectly informational and entertaining, whether one is a believer or not).

I look forward very much to hearing from you soon. I am always reachable at this email address.

Thank you for your time,

Meonenim


To: meonenims@gmail.com

From: haled@triskelebooks.net

Meonenim,

I must apologize again for cancelling our video interview last Friday. I had a family emergency arise and was forced to leave work early for the weekend. In regards to your last email, though, combined with your resume and considering your phone interview with my secretary, I feel confident in extending the offer of this summer internship to you. It is a forty hour/week position with twelve weeks of commitment expected. Pay will be $15 a week. Please email my secretary if you wish to seek a housing or travel stipend.

Thank you for your enthusiasm, I very much look forward to working with you in the near future.

Warmest regards,

Hal


To: haled@triskelebooks.net

From: meonenims@gmail.com

Mr. Hal,

I hope that this email isn’t considered too forward. I thought I should tell you what a wonderful first week I’ve had here at your company–though I know it is unusual to approach the owner with such topics, you were so helpful to me when finding this position that I feel obliged to thank you personally for the incredible time I’m having here so far.

I hope to meet with you next week, when you return from your business trip.

Best,

Meonenim


To: meonenims@gmail.com

From: haled@triskelebooks.net

Meonenim, 

I’m flattered that you feel comfortable approaching me. Please continue to share your thoughts and concerns in the future. It is, after all, a small family company, and we consider all of our employees equal and important.

I knew that you would be a perfect fit.

I’m looking forward to seeing you again.

Hal


To: haled@triskelebooks.net

From: meonenims@gmail.com

Dear DEREK,

Okay, in all fairness, I feel like I should have seen this coming. You said ‘see you again’ and I was all like wtf, I’ve never met this man in my life, but I brushed it off as a typo.

I’m so embarrassed. I literally went through this whole process thinking that my boss was going to be a guy named ‘Ed Hal.’ Obviously, that was wrong and stupid. 

Anyway, I’m sorry I screamed earlier when I saw you. It’s been a really long time.

I hope you didn’t hire me just because you feel bad that I’m a broke grad student who can only get internships with people who pity him.

Stiles

P.S. I meant what I said, your company is amazing.


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anonymous asked:

Sugakookie? Suga (a p mysterious underground rapper) has made a bet with his mildly annoying fan Jungkook that if the younger boy can track down his real name he'll hang out with the kid for a full day.

“Jungkook, this is illegal. If he turns around and sees us, we’ll end up in jail,” Jimin hisses as Suga rounds the corner and Jungkook starts walking faster so that he doesn’t lose the sight of the rapper.

“The only way we’ll end up behind the bars is if you don’t shut up,” Jungkook raises his voice.

The figure twenty meters ahead of them turns around and Jungkook inwardly curses his bad luck and Jimin’s presence.

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It's about time, Winchester.

Sam and Reader.

Fluff. Angst. Swearing.

Summary: (requested by sidneyleanne13​) Can you do a samxreader imagine where they don’t get along with each other then when the reader saves sam on a hunt he falls in love with her. He flirts with her for a while but doesn’t tell her that he loves for until months later?

(Literally my first request so I am really nervous. Hope it’s what you had in mind. Enjoy! x)

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“you look tired”

Me: “oh… my seasonal anxiety and depression climaxes around this time of year, so I guess I’m a bit worn down. Also the barometric pressure fluctuations have been causing migraines and body pain, making it harder to sleep than usual, so there’s that. I’m also a woman who has periods n stuff, so each month my hormones swing with varying and inconsistent intensity, and it’s likely that my progesterone dropped recently, which would explain why I cried myself to sleep last night, and might have played a part in my nervous breakdown before my birthday party last week. See, getting older is weird. There’s a Ray Bradbury short story called Frost and Fire, about people who live in caves and are born and die within an 8 day lifespan, and I think about it a lot when I realize I’m aging. It feels so strange to be able to see it, you know? But also, did you know that the next fifty years will be filled with climate change upheavals and stunning technological advancements that will reshape our global society in ways we can’t even imagine? My kids (oh ps I have kids who wake up at night a lot and whose futures I am constantly worried for) might someday face the choice to continue their lives synthetically, and as harrowing as that sounds, it could actually be the only way to preserve the human species (if we haven’t been extinguished by a recklessly created man-made super-intelligence by that point). So I guess I spend a lot of time wondering if I should be encouraging them to trust technology or whether they should be distanced far from it, to save them from the surely chaotic and possibly horrific transition. And then I wonder, what’s the point? Maybe we’re simply a virus and are due for a cleanse. So in the meantime, do we activate ourselves to better our world or isolate ourselves to enjoy what we have and fuck everything because who cares? Either way seems like an extreme way to live - there honestly doesn’t seem to be a moderate way forward. Am I strong enough for all that? Are any of us? I have to be, don’t I? With kids and all. Also I stayed up too late watching Netflix, but sometimes watching stuff is the only way I can sedate my brain. Sedation is the other way forward, I guess. But like, why be alive if we’re only living to sedate? You see, we’re all fucked. Everything is. But we’re all pieces in the machine taking us forward, and I guess we can either oil up or rust up? God what am I even talking about now. Sorry, I’m tired.”

i’d recognize you (anywhere you go)

summary: 01. always getting the same cashier at target no matter what day it is au. requested by in-spirational.

word count: ~ 1,800

rating: g. 

a/n: oh my god you doN’T KNOW HOW FLUFFY THIS IS. AND CHRISTMAS FEELS BECAUSE I HAD THE URGE TO PUT IN THE HOLIDAYS DURING SEPTEMBER


It’s funny that every time he goes to Target just to get some basic necessities, he finds himself with the same cashier tending to his checkout every day.

Not that he’s complaining.

Emma as her nametag says, is a lovely cashier who’s fantastic at her area of service. Plus, she’s easy on the eyes. And she’s got his eyes for sure, knowing that he’s developed a little, stupid crush on her. He has never once thought he’d find himself infatuated to the cashier that checks out his stuff, but here he is, second in line and anticipating his short moment he’ll get with her on this fine Monday evening.

“You again?”

“Flattered to know you recognize me, lass.” He chuckles and pulls his wallet out from the back pocket of his jeans while she scans all of the items. “Business seems slow today.”

“It is,” she confirms, carefully placing his stuff into a bag. “Twenty-eight, sixty-five.”

He pulls out a fifty dollar bill (he needs to head over to a bank later…and he forgot his credit card), handing it over to her, and digging out sixty-five cents so he doesn’t get too much spare change. That weighs his wallet down, and he doesn’t exactly like carrying that extra weight around of coins he doesn’t always get to use.

“Hope you have a nice day.”

He smiles, taking his bag and nodding. “You too, Emma.”

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