pairing: kim namjoon | reader genre: fluff, smut warnings:
sub!namjoon, begging, a cock ring, and light bondage.
word count: 7,180 description: in which a night of grading papers about robots becomes a night where you get your payback against rival grad student, kim namjoon. author’s note: this is a very, very, very late christmas gift to @jungnoir but better late than never amirite? anyway, enjoy this piece! also, this is probably the dirtiest thing i’ve ever written so… just let me live…. rip.
For many graduate-level students, there is only one day that truly means the world to them. It’s a day where they’ll be chosen to either teach a classroom or assist said person. In your university, pairs are created for these courses. Many of which are targeted toward impressionable first years but anyone’s welcome to partake in the experimental class. The department of any major -in this case, Philosophy- hears back on your progress at the end of the term, then from there even biggers decisions are made. The research component of any subject is easy, but being able to convey it to a large crowd is what the department heads look for. In all essence, it will make or break you as an aspiring teacher.
Your anticipation only proliferates as the red marks shrink the previous days to the forthcoming circle for the upcoming Winter quarter. And today is finally that day.
With a buzzing all-time high, you find yourself among the select eight in your graduate program. Many of whom are just as excited as you are, even Namjoon but you opt to ignore the silver-haired man just to keep your own buzz going. With some luck you won’t have to deal with him anymore. Hell, maybe you’ll even have Hani as a partner. Or Minhyuk.
Soon enough, Professor Lim enters, and everyone immediately sits straight and leans forward.
The salt and pepper-haired man laughs, “It’s good to see everyone looking so alive today.” Meeting each and every one of your wide eyes as he takes a seat at the head of the crudely formed circle of chairs by Namjoon, he asks, “Is everyone ready to hear the pairs for this year’s Introductory Philosophy class?”
There are nods and murmurs in response. Of course, they’re ready. They’ve been preparing for this since the start of the program.
His eyes twinkle beneath the mediocre fluorescent lighting before he gives a nod, “Alright, well, let’s get down to it then, yeah?” He receives a chorus of affirmations, earning another hearty laugh of his, “The following pairs shall be Namjoon and Y/N…” But the moment he says yours and Namjoon’s name, you can’t seem to register anything else.
Fuck… Out of everyone in the room, it had to be him.
Summary: Whatever happened to true love? To fairytale romance? Where was that
magical spark, those lingering kisses, the butterflies in your stomach, the
fireworks in your heart? Where was the romance and the honesty in a forced
love, in a forced marriage between you and Jungkook?
Word Count: 4,535
Genre: fluff and soon to be angst
A/N: So, someone requested an arranged marriage series with Jungkook, and someone else requested a scenario where the reader and Jungkook are dating for publicity so I figured I would combine the two and make it into a chaptered fanfic
Prompt: 26-”Come over here and make me.”, 12-”Quit it or I’ll bite.”
Summary: Bellamy and reader have feelings for each other, but are too stubborn to admit it so they instead keep pissing each other. However Octavia and Clarke wouldn’t just let it go and send them on a mission hoping it would force them to admit what they feel for each other.
Word count: 2020
“Put it down before you hurt yourself,” I rolled my eyes at the sound of Bellamy’s voice in which I could practically hear him smirking.
“Shut up before I hurt you,” I retorted not bothering to look at him because I knew exactly what I would find, him standing there with folded arms and amused look on his face.
I think Loo did her best with Molly, and I appreciate that. She made her engaging and endearing. But I also think we have had enough depictions of 40 year old women who inexplicably arrange their personal lives around soliciting scraps of attention from indifferent, arrogant men. We see characters like this as an expression of male wish fulfillment. The idea that a man can be so magnetic and irresistible, despite his contempt, that there is literally nothing he can do to a woman to show her how unworthy he is of her affection, and she will love him unconditionally for her whole life.
That may be a true story (less true than many men seem to think it is!!!) but it is not a good story. It is not a useful story. It is not a beautiful story. It is not an uplifting story. If all you can manage to scrape together is, Oh gosh isn’t it brutal when this happens? well! You’re the writer, aren’t you? Instead of pointing out how sad it is, maybe just. Write something better.
Summary: Song-fic based off of “This Is My Idea” from the movie The Swan Princess. For as long as you can remember, your parents forced you to spend time with your future husband, even though you couldn’t stand each other. Throughout the years you both mature, does your relationship?
Time Period: Pre-Hamiltime? (It takes place during King George’s life, but it doesn’t have to do with the American Revolution.)
A/N: Two stories in two days?? Wow, go me!! Anyway, this has been siting in my drafts for a while and I’m finally happy with it. This was super fun to write because I love King George and there aren’t enough reader insert stories about him. Like I said, the inspiration and many lyrics are from The Swan Princess movie. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy and have a fabulous day!!
From a young age, you had been betrothed to George. Before you were even born, your parents had come up with the arrangement that you and George would marry as a way to strengthen your countries.
Every summer, you would be pulled from your home and sail to England. The idea was for you and George to spend time together so you would love each other by the time you were to be married.
There were four of these summers that stood out in your mind when you thought about how you met George.
The first memory was the first time you had ever visited him. You had been told by your parents that you would sailing to England to meet a very important boy who was only a year older than you.
At first, the idea excited you. There would be another child to play, even if he was a boy. At the young age of 6, there weren’t many people to play with, seeing as you had no brothers or sisters and the thought of playing with a servant child was unimaginable.
After a long, boring journey, your parents guided you to the castle where you were to meet the King and Queen of England along with their son. The trio stood waiting for you, looking regal, and suddenly you got shy. Hiding behind your parents, you protested as they pushed you forward. George’s parents did the same.
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Princes (y/n).” he grumbled.
You went to curtesy just as you had been taught and automatically replied, “Pleased to meet you, Prince George.” However, when you looked up George had turned away from you in a rude manner.
His mother gave him a sharp look and pointed towards you. Begrudgingly, he dramatically stomped to you and looked at your suspiciously. You glared at him before he kissed your hand and instantly pulled away with a “Yuck!”
The first thought you had was not very kind of Prince George, and you could tell that you would never like him, much less love him enough to marry him. “He looks conceited, what a total bummer.”
Both of you turned to your parents and mumbled together, “If I get lucky I’ll get chicken pox.”
After receiving stern looks from both Kings and Queens, you rolled your eyes before turning back to George with the fakest smile you could muster.
“So happy you could come.” he bowed, mockingly.
“So happy to be here.” you curtsied, but put no respect in it.
At the same time, you both crossed your arms and complained. “This is not my idea of fun!”
The rest of the summer was spent fighting with George. Since your parents wanted you two to get along, they believed the best way to do this was for you to spend every day, with him. For some reason, they were oblivious to the feud you and George had.
That summer was one of the longest summers ever. When you finally got on the boat to head home, you were relieved you wouldn’t have to see that boy for almost another year.
The second summer that stood out in your mind was when you were eleven and George was twelve. That past year, you had discarded the dress laid out for you, instead opting to wear pants and a tunic shirt much to the dismay of your parents.
You tried you hardest to tell your parents they had to postpone the voyage, but they wouldn’t buy any of it. They escorted you on the boat and had a trunk thrown together, all in a matter of ten minutes.
Once you arrived in England, you were greeted by the usual; George, the King of England, and the Queen. However, this year, George’s annoying friend, Samuel Seabury, was with him. All summer, they never let you join in their games.
Anytime you tried to play whatever game they were playing, they would run off to their “secret’ treehouse. About halfway through your stay, you had enough. You chased them throughout the castle, trying to force them to play with you. “Wait up guys!” you cried after them, frustrated that they wouldn’t slow down.
Disappearing out of sight, you almost gave up hope, but luckily you managed to track them down. Now only a few yards behind them, you thought you could catch up. Unfortunately, they reached the treehouse, climbed the ladder, and took away the ladder before you could put a foot on it. On top of that, they hung a sign on the wall that read, ‘NO GIRLS ALLOWED!’
“This really isn’t fair.” you whined, crossing your arms with a pout on your face.
Instead of apologizing, they laughed and said in unison. “We really couldn’t care.”
“Boys it’s all or none!” you thought.
Taking a step to the supporting boards, you kicked one out of anger. Not expecting to cause any damage, you were surprised and horrified to see that kicking that one little board out of place sent the entire structure tumbling.
That summer you got to leave early, but you left with a bruised face and broken arm, and livid parents.
The third summer with George that stood out in your mind was when you were seventeen and he was eighteen. You had finally grown out of your “awkward phase,” and felt beautiful and confident. Your confidence soared even higher that summer when you caught George staring at you a bit too long when you first arrived.
However, if you were being completely honest, you were equally as guilty. Some might have said that you had developed a crush on the future King of England, but that was not true. Although he looked quite handsome, he was still that annoying boy who had never treated you kindly.
The day pigs flew would be the day you had a crush on George.
However, that was the first summer that was different then the rest. In your mind, it didn’t feel like a terrible time. First, you were able to convince George to do what you wanted more easily. Gone were the days where you were running to catch up with him and Samuel. Second, you began to talk to more people in the castle, including the castle gaurds. It was fun just being able to flirt with them, laughing at what they said, leaving your hand on their shoulder for too long, etc, even if it didn’t mean much.
“She’s always flirting with the castle gaurds!” George complained as he and Thomas watched you from afar. That particular day, you were feeling extra flirty. Your arm was lingering on the guard’s shoulder a bit to long and the way you batted your eyes could make any man weak in the knees.
“You’re just jealous because you like her. Fess up.” Samuel teased, elbowing George in the side.
George’s head whipped around as he glared at Samuel, daring him to say another word. Although he would never admit it, George had began to harbor a crush on you. You weren’t the whiny six year old you once were and you most certainty weren’t the boyish eleven year old he had once known, but you were still the annoying girl he didn’t want to marry.
“I’d like her better if she’d lose at cards.” George countered, still upset over the fact that you always won.
You even won when they boys were cheating. Samuel would stand behind you and glance over your shoulder, mouthing the card numbers to George. When the game came to an end, George laid down his cards quite smugly, prepared to gloat over his victory.
“Four sevens and a ten.”
“I think I won again.” you stated, laying down the cards you had collected on the table.
And even though Samuel had seen your numbers, you had seem to win. Again! The boys could never catch a break.
“This is my idea.” you began, returning George’s smug smile.
“This isn’t my idea.” they pouted.
“Of fun.” all three of you spoke at the same time.
The last summer that stood out in your mind was when you were 20 and George was 21.
For as far back as you could remember, your parents had constantly reminded you that you and George were to someday wed. Every June through September, they would force you to spend time with the boy who you didn’t even like.
You wanted to be in a marriage that was based on love, not politics, and you knew that was something that you could never achieve with George. Even though you tried to explain this to your parents, they acted like they couldn’t hear you.
There would be times that you would beg and plead with them, or even refuse to leave the carriage. If this ever happened, your parents would pick you and drag you to where George was. It felt like their were bruises from their fingerprints.
You could feel the pressure for you and George to marry greater then it ever had been. You knew you were almost passed the acceptable age of not being married, and your parents wanted you to be well off.
When they shoved you in the ball room, you crossed your arms and tried to reason with them. “He is so immature!”
The sound of another door closing on the opposite side of the room caught your attention. You turned and saw that George was standing there, and your knees were buckling slightly. He had grown so incredibly handsome and something about him seemed different.
You could understand why, but some switch inside you flipped and you could see all the great qualities George had in him. He was kind, caring, intelligent, witty, and charming. He was the man you had been dreaming of.
The way he stared at you, made you blush. Unknown to you, he was having similar thoughts of seeing you in a brand new light. While he may of thought you weren’t the prettiest when you were younger, looking at you know you were like an angel.
As if his eyes were finally clear, he saw your beauty, grace, poise, elegance, kindness, humbleness, intelligent, and humor. All of the wonderful characteristics drew him towards you, meeting you half way in the room.
“So happy to be here.” you curtsied, just like at the age of six, but now you meant in with all of your being.
“’Till now I never knew.” he whispered, bowing to you.
“It’s you I’ve been dreaming of.” you both spoke, inching closer and closer to each other until you were mere inches away.
He cupped your cheek in his hand and brought his lips on top of yours. Almost as if a spark had been lit, you felt fireworks booming in your chest as you wrapped your arms around George, pulling him closer to you.
When the two of you finally pulled apart, you couldn’t help the smiles that adorned your faces. You had finally found your soulmate, and he had been standing in front of you your entire life.
“And that is how your mommy and I feel in love.” George spoke lovingly to the bump that was your stomach, rubbing it softly.
You could feel soft kicks from the baby growing inside of you, and you smiled down at the sight of your husband connecting with your unborn child. “I think she liked the story.” you giggled, running a hand lovingly through his hair.
“She?” he questioned, looking up at you with a goofy grin on his face.
“Well I’m not sure, but I think it’s mother’s intuition.” you admitted.
“I love you so much, my little princess.” George whispered, pressing a small kiss to your belly. “And I love you so much, my queen.” he whispered in your ear, pressing a kiss to your lips.
Robb Stark knew that as the heir to Winterfell he was eventually going to have to be wed. When that time comes he couldn’t be more happy with his fathers choice.
Word Count: 1897
This is my first ever GoT one-shot/short story so if it’s rubbish…I’m sorry! Mostly from Robb’s POV. The female character is referred to as (Y/N). (Which I don’t usually write so once again…Sorry if it’s not the best.) (Not my Gif)
“Hate you? I don’t hate you, that would require me spending far too much time thinking about you.”
“You could at least pretend to care about someone other than yourself.”
“I could, but lying is a sin, dearest and it seems like a lot of effort. Or are we also pretending you think I’m a good person?”
genre: angst(?), romance
word count: 1.7k
Getting married to Jimin, sorry Prince Jimin, wasn’t my choice nor his. It was obviously my parents, they had arranged all of this since the two of us were in the womb. I hated being engaged to this jerk, he knew he was on top and took advantage of it, at least I was still humble despite my power. “Do I have to marry him?” I asked my father seriously, “It’s already been decided, so don’t you go off.” How he knew I would flee, I had no idea but I was going to do it anyway. I couldn’t stand Jimin, he was the definition of ‘I’m the prince so bow down to me because you’re unworthy’, specific as it may be that pretty much was a summary of Jimin.
I was grateful that I had decided to learn how to drive when I put an overnight bag into my car; the way I dressed made me appear like a commoner, this was a recurring thing I did. The hood of my jacket was pulled up as you drove away from my mansion into the next city over, where I usually ran away to. The car windows were down and I drove at a high speed until I reached your favourite place to be. It wasn’t magnificent, nowhere near home but it was comfortable and warm, unlike home. My phone was switched off, I had an emergency backup if I really needed someone. I entered Kai’s, my secret best friend, house and flicked the light switch.
“Yo, Kai! Where you hiding?” I shouted and her small head appeared from around the corner. “___? What are you doing here?” she laughed as she placed down her frying pan. “First of all, you’re ridiculous for thinking a murderer or burglar would switch the light on when they enter your home. Second of all, I wanted to get away from the hectic stuff at home. The parents are making my become Jimin’s fiancée.” I told her, dropping my bag and rolling my eyes simultaneously.
“Oh, the dickhead prince that the whole nation knows about? The one that has a new girl back at his everyday?” she asked as she walked towards her kitchen. “You got it. I’d be okay with it if it weren’t him, he’s so arrogant and annoying and I want to punch him every time I see him but enough about him. What’ve you been up to lately?” I asked Kai as she poured me a glass of juice. “School stuff, a couple dates, guys and girls. No luck.” she muttered as she sipped her juice. “At least you have the freedom to date.”
“Where is the princess?” father spoke as I was found missing from my room. “Did she leave? I specifically told her not to!” he said, practically ripping his hair out of his head. “You know she’s more likely to do things when she’s told not to.” mother told him calmly as she had her breakfast. “Where did she get that from?” “You were no difference as a prince, honey. Sneaking away to see me. You know, maybe we shouldn’t have arranged her marriage, we’re not arranged.” she told him. “But we’ve done what we’ve done now.” father muttered, giving up on wondering where you were. “She’ll come back in her own time.”
So last night, i posted a video in my ModernWitchcraftVids tag about having done a little release ritual regarding an abusive ex. He was extremely emotionally abusive and I have been broken up with with him for months. The burning rage i felt when I even thought of his name was something I knew I had to release myself from. I have every right to feel that way, but I felt like it was keeping me tied to him and I didn’t like that idea at all.
I’m going to share what I did. Tweak it how you want, but I’m italicizing the bits I think need to remain the same.
What you need:
Fire safe container, such as a metal bowl
3 Dried rose stems (mine are saved and dried from floral arrangements)
A gift from the ex
Candle of your color choice
War water (I have a recipe for my Azraelis war water I’m going to post)
What you do:
Light your candle and hold it or place in a candle holder in front of you. Say, “I light this flame to open the door to release and healing from the emotions I have regarding (insert name here)”
Using the flame from the candle, light the rose stems one at a time, and say aloud “I light this to release the feeling of ____” for each stem. Mine were anger, sorrow, and any love I had left for him. My stems didn’t burn completely, but that’s okay.
Next, try to set fire the gift(s). If it’s something that won’t burn , allow the flame to disfigure it. If it won’t disfigure by flame, try to tear, break or bend it.
Each thing should be placed in the bowl after it’s burned.
Next, I drizzled war water over it to give one final kick of rage before pouring salt over it. After the salt, I chose to light a sage stick with the still-lit candle to purify myself and the air around me, allowing the smoke to cleanse my energy of any residual emotion the ritual addressed.
Once I was sure everything was cool to the touch, I dumped the contents of my bowl/cauldron into the trash, particularly the apartment dumpsters so I wasn’t bringing anything inside. If you can, rinse the bowl before going inside.
Try to take a moment to let yourself feel the calm! Annd you’re done <3
YOU ARE ALLOWED TO FEEL ANGRY AND BITTER ABOUT THAT PERSON! You are entitled to those emotions, but after a while you may decide those emotions have no place in moving on, and that’s exactly why I did this ritual for myself <3
(A/N): I’ve been listening to Postmodern Jukebox and I was inspired by their songs. I wrote it this morning and now, after I stopped thinking about some bad things, I was able to post this story. Enjoy! :)
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader
Summary: Tony made (Y/N) sing at his vintage party even when she hates his parties.
“(Y/N)?” Tony appeared next to the woman who was sitting on a chair in the kitchen, reading her favorite book – Anna Karenina. She was alone only for five minutes when someone-Tony-had to come to the kitchen and ruin the moment she had with the book. For the last four hours, somebody wanted something from her. She didn’t look at him, trying to ignore the man. “I know I’m annoying but I want to talk about the party I’m organizing this Friday evening,” he put an angelic smile on his face. “I know you love my parties and I know you are going to love the idea that popped into my head and that is why I know you will definitely come to the party.”
She took a deep breath and lowered the book, giving him a look of pure annoyance. “Fine, talk, you have two minutes, not more,” she quickly checked the time on her wrist. The truth was, she hated Tony’s parties. They were loud with music that wasn’t her cup of tea; there were always a lot of people that made her uncomfortable. Wearing a slutty dress wasn’t something she appreciated and she definitely didn’t want men’s attention. Her only wish was to have one man’s attention but clearly, that wasn’t happening anytime soon.
Your Flowers Will be Waiting (Jared Kleinman x Reader)
Flowers Will be Waiting (Jared Kleinman x Reader)
I was listening to “I’m Me” by Us the Duo, and it reminded me of a headcanon I read
somewhere saying Jared played clarinet in high school (which I LOVE). And then
somehow I came up with an idea that involved a flower shop, and this happened! I
also love headcanons about Jared not at all being an outdoors person, sooo idk I
just feel like he probably has a pollen allergy (and also gets sunburned super
easily and is very clumsy when he goes on hikes with Evan, but that’s for another
fic, probably!!). Also, as you may remember from my other Jared fic, I am
convinced he loves The Office and no
one can tell me otherwise (I mean, come on, Michael Scott literally responds “Kinky!”
to something Jim or Dwight says in the first episode).
Anyway. This is pure fluff.
Tiny bit of swearing … also Jared makes a slightly crude comment about the
romance novels his grandma reads.
You’ve been watching customers meander in and out of
the flower shop for the past three hours when the bell over the door announces
the entrance of a boy with crooked glasses and a familiar smile.
An involuntary flutter goes through your stomach as
you push your book aside and wave at him from your perch behind the counter. Ever
since you graduated high school two months ago and started working here, it
seems like he’s been in almost every time you’ve had a shift. At first you
weren’t sure why—he never bought anything, just asked a bunch of questions
about the various flowers. Once you asked if he was going to buy anything, and
he said he was thinking about getting a bouquet for his nature-obsessed friend.
You weren’t sure if he was kidding or not.
You’re still not exactly sure why he comes in, but it
doesn’t matter so much anymore.
“Hey, Jared,” you call.
“Hey,” he replies. He slides his hands into the
pockets of his shorts. “How’s it going?”
“Fine. We got some new flowers if you want to see them.”
You motion toward the window display, which you spent a good chunk of your
morning arranging. “They’re over there.”
“In a minute.” He comes to the counter and props his
elbows on it, leaning toward you. It used to make you feel strange—you had gone
through high school feeling pretty much invisible, and it was weird to have a
boy talk to you so close, especially one you didn’t know. But now you don’t
mind. If another guy did it, you might feel uncomfortable, but Jared does it in
an oblivious kind of way like he just wants to hang out, not like he’s trying
to hit on you.
Not that you would mind being hit on by Jared Kleinman.
The book you were reading before he came in rests
amidst a scattering of stray leaves, its pages lying open to the middle. Jared taps
a finger on it. “Whatcha reading today?”
“The Prisoner of
He huffs out a short laugh. “Harry Potter?”
You feel your cheeks flushing a little, but a smile
you can’t control pops onto your face. “Hey, those books are classics. My
grandma even read them.”
“Then your grandma is way cooler than mine.” He
smirks. “I tried to make her read them in fifth grade, but she was too busy
with semi-pornographic romances.”
“Oh god, I didn’t need to know that.” You cover your
face with one hand and laugh. “Now I just have this horrible image of … that …
in my head.”
“You’re welcome.” Jared pushes a finger under his
glasses and rubs his eyes; they always get red and watery when he comes in, and
he’s usually sneezing by the time he leaves. You used to think it would keep
him from spending so much time here, but he told you his friend makes him go on
hikes in the woods and those are way worse than this.
“So,” he says. “How late are you working?”
“I get off at four-thirty.” You tuck a loose strand of
hair behind your ear; your hair isn’t really long enough to put in a ponytail,
but you still try to tie it back every day anyway. “Why?”
You twist back and forth on your stool; it lets out a
painful creak that makes a lady looking at flowers by the door glance over at
you. You pick up one of the stray leaves from the counter and tuck it into the
crease of The Prisoner of Azkaban to
mark your spot, then close the book. “Aren’t you ever going to get a job?” you
“I’m trying to get an internship, actually. I want to
get some experience under my belt so I’m not totally clueless when I start
Jared is going to Rochester Institute of Technology
this fall. He’s going to major in Computer Science, which, based on how much
he’s rambled about gaming, the computer he’s been trying to build since ninth
grade, and the miracles of the modern cell phone, doesn’t surprise you. He’s
lucky, you think—from what he’s told you, it sounds like he’s always had some
idea of what he wants to do. You, on the other hand, aren’t sure what you’re
doing. You know you’ll be attending North Country Community College come
August, but that’s about it.
“That’s a good idea,” you say. “Do you think you’ll
“Maybe. I probably won’t get paid, but I mean, I can
always work on the weekends or at night, right?”
You finger the worn edge of your book; it’s soft from dozens
of rereads. “I heard the 7 Eleven down the street is hiring.”
“Ha, ha.” He scratches his nose and shifts his weight
so his side is leaning up against the counter. “What about you, loser? You
decided what you’re going to school for yet?”
You smirk. It’s a question he asks almost every time
he visits, and every time you make up a new answer. Yesterday it was
Criminology with a minor in Icelandic Poetry, which both of you are pretty sure
doesn’t actually exist. “Maybe Meteorology? And then maybe I’ll minor in
Jared lets out a choked sound. “No. God, no, you can’t
You laugh. “Why not?”
“Because I already have one friend who won’t freaking
shut up about plants. I can’t deal with another one.”
“So we’re friends?”
He gives you a look. “I’m in here almost every day
even though my eyes are burning out of their sockets, Y/N. Come on. Gimme some
A blush climbs up your neck and into your ears. You
bite down on a smile and find another loose leaf on the counter to pick at.
“You know, we don’t always have to hang out in here if it bothers you.”
He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it, I’m good. But I’d
like to quit standing, if that’s okay.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” The other customer is gone now, so
you motion for Jared to come sit on the extra stool behind the counter. He
scoots around the corner of the counter and climbs onto the stool; for an
eighteen-year-old boy, he’s a little short, and his Vans hang a good way above
“So,” you say. “Am I ever going to meet your other
Jared takes his glasses off and cleans them on the
corner of the button-down shirt he has layered over his green R2D2 shirt.
“You’ve met him.”
You make a face at him. “I didn’t go to school with
“Yeah, you did.”
You cross your arms over your chest. “No, I didn’t. I
would remember that.”
Jared smirks. “Why, because I’m so charming?”
“Because you’re so obnoxious.”
“Wow, nice. Thanks.” Jared slips his glasses back on.
“I was in band with you in eighth grade. Remember?”
You cringe a little at the memory of middle school
band. Your parents thought you should try playing an instrument, so you tried
the flute—and failed. “I spent most of band hiding in the bathroom because I
sucked so bad. So no, I don’t remember.”
“Okay, well, I was there.”
“What did you play?”
“Clarinet.” He picks a leaf off the counter and rolls
the stem back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. “I spent most of band seeing how loudly I could make it honk.”
“Oh my god. I remember that.” You can’t help but start laughing. When you weren’t hiding
in the bathroom, you kept your head ducked so no one would notice you. But
there’s still an image in your head—a memory of a short, pudgy kid blowing on
his clarinet until his face went bright red and the teacher screamed herself
hoarse. “Was that you that honked right in the middle of The Blue Danube?”
“Yep.” He tears the tip off the leaf. “That was the most
epic moment of my middle school band career. Also my last.”
“Did they kick you out?”
“Yep. So instead I had to do some stupid wood
workshop.” He rips another piece off the leaf. “Majorly boring.”
“I can imagine.” You watch him shred the last bit of
the leaf. “God, I can’t believe I didn’t know that was you. We didn’t go to the
same high school, though, right? I switched after freshman year.”
“Yeah, I know. I think we had, like, Spanish I or
something together before you left.”
“Did I have any classes with your friend?”
“Probably, although if you didn’t remember me, then
you probably won’t remember him.”
He reaches onto the counter and begins to scoop all
the stray leaves into a pile. “’Cause he’s quiet.”
“I thought you said he wouldn’t shut up about plants.”
“Well, that’s true. But that’s just with me. He’s
quiet around big groups of people.” He lifts a rose leaf and inspects it. “He’s
actually the reason I came in here in the first place.”
You raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“He had this first date with this girl he met at work—he
works at a state park, can you believe that? Anyway, he thought it would be
cute to give her flowers but didn’t want to actually go buy them. So, being the
nice guy that I am, I offered to get some for him.”
You roll your eyes. “Humble much?”
“Hey, I think it was a pretty nice thing to do. He’s
the one who came up with the idea in the first place anyway.”
“Well, you never bought the flowers, and you’ve been
back, like, a hundred times since then, so explain that.”
Jared snorts and points to himself. “Do I look like
the kind of guy to know how the hell you’re supposed to make a flower
“We have premade ones,” you say. “And I offered to
“Yeah, but remember you were watching The Office on your phone and we started
talking about that and got distracted?”
The memory makes something soft and warm light in your
chest. You had only been working for a few days and had been out of school for
just over two weeks. You didn’t really have any friends from school, more just
a few acquaintances, but you still missed the company of other people. Getting
to chat with a random kid about your favorite show had eased some of that
loneliness—especially when he showed up again during your next shift. “That was
nice,” you say.
“I know. Which is why I came back.”
“You told me you were looking for flowers again when
you came back.”
“Well, that too.” He scratches his nose in a bashful
kind of way, almost like he’s trying to hide his face for a second. “I thought the
whole flower idea was kinda good. So, I was going to try it.”
You smirk; the tips of his ears have gone pink, and
he’s twisting back and forth on his chair. This might be the first time you’ve
ever seen him act shy. “But again,” you say, “you never bought any flowers.”
“Because I realized it was actually really stupid. I
mean, asking a girl out with flowers? Who does that?”
“I don’t know,” you say. “I think it sounds sweet.”
He wrinkles his nose. “Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s a little cheesy, but flowers are
nice.” You pull one of the leaves from his pile and twirl it between your
fingers. “No one’s ever given me flowers, except my parents, and that doesn’t
Jared raises his eyebrows. “Seriously? You work at a
flower shop but have never gotten any?”
Your face heats as you drop your gaze to the leaf
pile. “Don’t act like it’s so shocking. I’ve just … I’ve never had a
boyfriend.” You watch the way your leaf’s deep green colors blurs when you
twirl it. “Does that make me seem lame?”
“No. I’ve been told guys in high school are dicks
You glance up at him. “Did someone say that about
“Only a couple times, and I wasn’t actually dating her
anyway.” He puts an elbow on the counter and props his head up on a fist. He’s
bent over a little, leaning a little closer to you, and you can see the bright
blue of his eyes. There’s a tiny spot of warm brown in his right eye you never
noticed before, and for some reason it makes your heart trip through several
“So back to the flower thing,” he says. “Do you really
think it’s not stupid?”
You laugh again. “Jared, I already told you, I think
it’s cute. Why? Are you seriously telling me you haven’t asked out whoever you
were going to ask out, like, two months ago?”
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
“Oh my god! Okay, I’m helping you pick out flowers and
you’re asking today.” You scoot off your stool and move to get around the
counter. “Do you know what kind of flowers she likes?”
“Why the crap would I know that?” he asks, following
behind you as you stride toward the front of the store. “Just pick your
favorites and I’ll get those.”
You roll your eyes at him but then focus on the task.
The two of you wander around the store, Jared watching while you sift through
the containers of flowers. You search for some of your favorites but also keep
in mind that Jared probably doesn’t have a lot of money to spend on flowers. You’re
pretty sure you can make it work; sometimes when there’s no one in the shop,
you like to brainstorm new combinations of flowers.
Within fifteen minutes, you’ve gathered a mix of
baby’s breath, soft yellow daisies, and lavender. Jared watches from his stool
behind the counter while you clip the stems and arrange them in a narrow vase.
“I think this will be good,” you say, nestling a sprig
of baby’s breath next to a large, pale yellow daisy. “It’s pretty without being
too much. Too much would be cheesy.”
Jared pushes his glasses up to rub at his eyes; by now
they’re bloodshot and watering enough that he’s wiping tears away before they
can dribble onto his cheeks. “Are you sure about the lavender? It kinda
“It smells nice in small doses. I’m only putting a few
sprigs in.” You glance up at him. “How soon are you giving this to her?”
“Soon.” He shifts so he’s leaning his elbow on the
counter like he did earlier. “Today, maybe.”
“Are you giving them to her on the date, or asking her
out with them?”
“Which do you think is less cheesy?”
You give him a look. “Are you really this insecure?”
He sputters a little. “No! Obviously not. I just want
to do this right.”
You sigh a little, although you’re smiling. There’s
something endearing about this nervous side of Jared. “I think you should wait
until you’re on the date to give them to her. Unless you’re not going out for a
couple of days. The baby’s breath will last for a while, but the daisies won’t
do so well.”
Jared grunts and begins to pick at a sprig of baby’s
breath lying on the counter. You swat his hand away. “Stop, you’ll ruin it.”
“This is just extra, you already have a bunch in
there.” He leans forward to inspect the flowers you’ve already put in the vase.
“So what did you say your plans were for when you get off work?”
“I don’t know. I’ll probably just read or watch TV or
“Wow, that’s exciting.” He waves the sprig of baby’s
breath at you. “You know, you should really get a life.”
You make a face at him, but the teasing smile on his
mouth keeps you from snapping back at him.
“What are you doing when you quit stalking me?” you ask.
“Calling this girl you’ve been pining over for two months?”
“Maybe so.” He ducks his head and sneezes into the
crook of his arm, his shoulders shuddering. When he looks back up at you, the
tip of his nose is pink, and he groans a little. “Ugh. How long until you’re
“Just a second. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” He wipes his wrist across his nose
and then props his head up on his fist. “You should give me your number, since
you have no life and obviously need someone to get you out of the house.”
You scoff at him. “You don’t know if I have a life!”
“I’ve known you for two months and basically all you
like involves TV, reading, and music.”
“And all you
like involves video games and building computers.”
The corner of his mouth jerks up in a smile. “Touché.
But I hang out with Evan, at least. Do you hang out with anyone?”
The question brings a familiar ache to your chest.
These hours spent with him are like spots of sunlight in your week. The rest is
almost all just gray loneliness. “No. I mean, I want to, I just … I don’t
really know anyone.”
“Not even from high school?”
“Not really. I had acquaintances, not friends.”
“Okay, I definitely need your number,” Jared says.
“You can’t just stay home anymore. Also, you and Evan would get along
“Is Evan the kid who likes trees?”
“Who’s obsessed with trees, yes.” There’s a marker
next to your register, and Jared moves off the stool to grab it. Once he’s back
on his stool, he holds the marker above his forearm. “What’s your number?”
You want to insist you have a life, but both of you
know you don’t. And it would be nice to make some friends.
You give him your number while you finish the flower
arrangement. It’s a little sparse, but there’s something cute about it. It has
a kind of rustic look, like it’s made from wildflowers. There’s something
sweeter about it than the overly full bouquets you’re used to making.
For a moment, you let yourself be jealous of whatever
girl will be getting the flowers, but then you brush the thought away.
Jared moves to the other side of the counter and digs
through his pockets while you ring him up. You almost wish your boss was here
to see the flowers; for the price Jared’s paying, it’s a pretty cute bouquet.
It’s the first time you really feel like you knew what you were doing when you
Once Jared has paid, you hand him the flowers. As he
reaches for the vase, your number stands out on his forearm, the writing big
and dark on his pale skin. You motion at it. “Don’t forget to text me sometime.
You know, since my life is so boring.”
For some reason, the bashful smile he had earlier
makes a reappearance, and you feel your heart flip inside you. “I will,” he
You’re at home lying on your bed, an episode of The Office playing on your laptop. You
smile a little—Jared would probably laugh if he saw you right now; he was
right, you really do have no life. Not that getting to lay around watching TV
isn’t nice. But it would also be nice to have people to go out and do things
You yawn and stretch your legs out on your bed. After
Jared left the flower shop, work dragged by. Some lady came in and yelled at
you for an order someone apparently messed up. You didn’t recognize her or the
description of the flowers she wanted, so you’re pretty sure it was a
coworker’s fault, but unfortunately they weren’t there to endure the yelling.
You think you dealt with it well, but it left you a little frazzled and with a
Beside you, your phone buzzes. A text from an
unfamiliar number scrolls across your screen. Are you home yet?????
That stupid, uncontrollable smile from earlier yanks
at your mouth again. It’s silly, considering you saw him just a few hours ago,
but you don’t care.
you reply, then add, Stalker.
You expect a snarky response, but instead your phone
You hold the phone to your ear with one hand and pause
The Office with the other. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Jared says. The sound of his voice makes you
wish you were back at the flower shop with him. “Whatcha doing?”
“Being boring.” You sit up, your legs crisscrossing.
“Did you call that girl yet?”
There’s a slight pause. “Yes.”
“And? What did she say?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
You make a face. “I don’t get it.”
He sucks in a deep breath that makes static fuzz in
your ear. “This is lame, but so are the flowers, so I’m just going—”
“The flowers aren’t lame,” you say. “We’ve already
been through this.”
“Okay, okay, sure, the flowers aren’t lame. But this
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, so
unfortunately I can’t reassure you.”
He laughs, but it comes out a little wobbly. It
reminds you of the sudden shyness that came over him in the shop today.
“Like I said, this is lame, but just listen,” he says.
You wait for several seconds before he speaks again. “Do you want to go out?”
You blink at the paused image of Pam and Jim talking
on your laptop. “Like … on a date?”
“Yes, like on a date.”
“I—yes, but I thought …” Your heart pauses for a
second as it dawns on you. Your mouth falls open, and for a moment all you can
do is breathe wordlessly. Then you start laughing. “Oh my gosh, you dork!
You’re such a dork!”
“Rude!” Jared says, but you can hear laughter in his
voice. “I just asked you out!”
“After waiting two
months!” You fall back on your bed, laughing so hard your ribs ache. “You
made me make my own flower arrangement,” you gasp out.
“Yeah, well, I would have done it, but you wouldn’t
even let me touch the baby’s breath,” he says. “Also I had to take a bunch of
Benadryl when I got home, so I think we’re even.”
You feel dizzy with excitement and laughter, and it
takes a couple seconds for you to calm down enough to suck in a deep breath.
Something happy is happening inside you, something fluttery and warm and
ticklish in between your ribs. “Obviously I’ll go out with you,” you say. “When
were you thinking?”
“I was gonna say tonight, but the Benadryl kind of
knocked me out, so my parents won’t let me drive.”
“I can come over,” you say. “You know how much I love
hanging around the house watching TV.”
“I definitely do.” He lets several seconds pass before
adding, “That seems really lame for a first date.”
“Oh my god, Jared, get over yourself.” You cup a hand
to your cheek; it’s flushed with excitement. “I’ll be over in an hour.”
“Are you sure?” he asks.
The giddiness inside fades into something warmer …
softer. Despite the way he spends most of the time teasing you, Jared Kleinman is
not as cocky as he seems. There’s a gentler, less sure side of himself, too, a
side that makes you like him even more. You’ve been a little in love with that
louder, more confident side of him since the first time he came into the shop and
started chatting with you, and you can feel yourself falling fast for this
deeper, more serious part of him.
You like Jared for all of him, and it makes your voice
go quieter as you tell him, “I’m sure.”
“I’ll text you my
address.” The smile you’ve come to look forward to so much over the past two
months fills his voice, and it makes your stomach ignite with butterflies.
“Your flowers will be waiting.”
Okay while I agree Mon-El has his dick-ish moments he also has a lot of good ones. You have to keep in mind that he’s still pretty new to earth and he still has a lot to learn. From what we know so far on Daxam they were partiers who objectified women and had arranged marriages. That being said he’s not used to feeling these emotions or being in a relationship and he has no idea how it works. He told Kara last week he’d never felt like he does about her ever in his life and he didn’t know how to handle his emotions. Has he been too over protective of her sometimes because of that? Yes. (Even though in this episode he was right about Jeremiah) Does he need to listen to her more? Yes I think he does especially when it comes to their relationship they both should listen to each other. ( I loved Winn’s advice to him and the fact that he applied it in the last scene was a big character development for him) But on other things he’s not a robot he’s a person and needs to make his own decisions. Honestly I think Mon-El has changed a lot for the better in such a short time on earth and we are gonna see so much more of that. Neither Mon-El or Kara are perfect they both have flaws and their relationship isn’t perfect and has flaws too but that’s normal. No ones perfect and no ones relationship is perfect. However I do think that Kara and Mon-El both challenge each other and make the other person better and that’s so important in a relationship they can also just be let go and totally be themselves with each other because they can understand each other better then anyone else can and that’s important in a relationship. Sure they fight but they always work out their issues and resolve them and that’s healthy and important in a relationship. They also make each other happy and that’s pretty important too.
I received a call from Adrien’s school today… apparently he disrupted class by offering one of his classmate a tampon…
Where did I go wrong?
As such, I am arranging for Natalie to have ‘the talk’ with him. Hopefully, a thorough education regarding the subject of how reproduction works will mitigate any further incidences.
So,@mr-hawkmoth and I had the idea of including reaction/response diaries from other characters in the ML universe to compliment the events ofThe Adrien Diaries. This series will be known as The Aftermath Addendums, and will include a variety of diary/journal/weblog reaction entries from numerous pov… whichever I think would react in the most hilarious way to poor Adrien’s shenanigans. I hope you enjoy! *Please note, other add-ons to this weird universe I am creating (with the help of @mr-hawkmoth) will also be tagged using #The Adrien Diaries & #The Aftermath Addendums
Request I picked up from @wwe-smutfics: Anon: QUOTE
SERIES: Johnny Gargano. The two of you are relatively new roommates with the
quote “I DIDN’T MEAN TO WALK IN ON YOU NAKED AGAIN! YOU REALLY NEED TO LEARN TO
LOCK YOUR DOOR!“
Summary: Life wasn’t perfect. Most people weren’t
perfect. My ability to spot trustworthy people wasn’t perfect. But Johnny
Gargano? Oh yeah, he was perfect in every sense. Except his issue with locking
doors and leaving his dirty clothes in the hallway. Ambiguous gender reader
Warnings: Admiring of a butt [Johnny’s], swearing,
theft, skeevy ex, seeing the roommate without clothes on, and Raini’s usual
So we’ve decided that Blitzstone Week will take place from August 6-12. So I’ve arranged the prompts from 7th to 1st place along with how many people voted for each.
August 6 - Royalty AU (32/73)
August 7 - First Impression (33/73)
August 8 - Fake Dating AU (35/73)
August 9 - Light/Darkness (35/73)
August 10 - Family (39/73)
August 11 - Scarf (41/73)
August 12 - Soulmates (56/73)
These prompts are just suggestions and if you had an idea for another one of the prompts that wasn’t chosen, feel free to write that. This is more about making more Blitzstone content than following these prompts.
You got home and collapsed on the couch after what was roughly your five thousandth doctor’s appointment over the last eight and a half months. Since you left school for maternity leave, earlier than you would have liked, but Lin insisted, all you had were trips to the doctor and sub plans to check over obsessively. It wasn’t until now that you realized just how much time your husband spent at the theater. With him around, it wasn’t so bad, but you didn’t want to get in the way of the multitude of other projects he had or keep him for what little sleep he did get, so it was really just him in your general vicinity to help you be a little more at peace. He would do more to help if you had let him, but he had so much else to worry about that you felt guilty when he focused on you.
Request: Hi! I’m not sure request are open but here comes one: Could you please do one where there’s this girl who comes back in town (or something) and she was John’s first girlfriend and all he does is cheat on every girlfriend he has w her but he doesn’t wants to realize that he actually loves her? And she’s like part of the family and everybody likes her (I don’t know if that one is clear I’m just not really good at english lol) Btw I love your writing, I’m your #1 fan lmao
Much to your mother’s dismay, and your own surprise, you stayed in Small Heath. You found a job at the Somerville Road School teaching for girls aged 5-14. While you and John had gone on a few dates nothing substantial seemed to come of your relationship. You loved his kids and saw them more often than you saw him. Katie, who loved you back equally, and was fairly wise to the world even at nearly seven, would tell you every time she saw her father about with another woman.
“Daddy took a lady to the pictures last night.” Katie snitched, holding your hand as you walked with her to school. The boys had run ahead, James included, tottering behind them.
“Your dad and I aren’t quite…together.” You clarified.