i realize like half of these are during his conversation with art

Limerence (M)

Anon asked:

“Hii gurl I have an idea for a Suga fluff or smut depends on how you feel like making it and I don’t know if you’ve ever made anything similar but could you do one where Yoongi’s y/n’s (who’s quite younger) brother’s friend and things happen between them, please? :3″

“Limerence; the state of being infatuated with another person”. I decided to make it slightly angsty (whoops) I guess that just makes the sex better. I didn’t get the part about being younger– I’m guessing it’s the reader that is younger, so…. Yeah.. I made the age difference 9 years (another whoops). I hope you like it, anon! 3.2k Words

Pairing: Pure-blood!Min Yoongi x Half-blood!Reader

Genre: Ancient Korea au!, smut, angst

Warnings: Cheating, moaning denial, fingering, Taking the Agust D

P.S. I made the reader/oc half-blood noble, so it’s not just the Korean people. ;)) I want it to be internationally compatible.

Originally posted by seokjins-wings

The day that you were born was probably one of the most joyful days for your father and 8-year-old brother, maybe not for your step mother – considering he had sex with a concubine to have you. You were the first half-blood of the family, and even though your father loved you dearly, there was still a small difference in the way he treated you. 

Whilst your brother was out learning archery and literature, you were sat at home, learning how to look like you were radiant enough for being part of the nobility. Unfortunately, you were not exactly fit for the beauty standards, so you had to try harder to look appealing to outsiders. You weren’t ugly – you were just not traditionally beautiful. 

You had an exotic type of beauty. 

That was one of the first things a 25-year-old Min Yoongi noticed about you when you both first met.

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Shit That Happened Sophomore Year of College

since my crazy freshman year post was a big hit, I thought you guys might enjoy a list of some of the weird things that happened this year! Enjoy!

  • someone yelling “BALL SACKS” at the tops of their lungs in the dorm hall while the clock tower chimed ominously in the distance
    • update: door slams five hours later, accompanied by a very annoyed “ball sacks, again”
    • update: week and a half later, someone slammed open the stairwell door, shouted “SUNDAY MORNING! BALL SACKS!” and then slammed it shut and ran down the stairs
    • update: it’s been 8 months. Every time I think the ball sacks guy is finally done, he shows up again at a random hour on a random day and shouts “BALL SACKS” down the hall for no known reason. I am frightened to try and learn more at this point.
  • those two semi-drunk guys on a Tuesday evening that were on a third floor balcony serenading some guys on a second floor balcony with Bohemian Rhapsody
  • that person who was laying face-down on the sidewalk in front of the University Center while crying and his friend was sitting next to him, gently patting him on the back (#same)
  • 2turmt
  • my first real injury in a sword fight
  • people slingshotting shirts off the roof of the English building
  • this conversation with my friend
    • “Get turnt. But get turnt responsibly.”
    • “Life motto.”
    • “Get it embroidered on a throw pillow.”
  • overheard in the library
    • “I dunno, I just don’t think I want to catch them all.”
    • “But you GOTTA catch ‘em all, bro! Don’t make me sing at you!”
  • the guy sitting in the parking lot outside of my dorm, smoking a joint in his car with a plastic skeleton wearing a bridal veil in the passenger seat
  • the RedBull guerrilla marketing teams that would wander around campus giving out free drinks because the campus store only has Monster
  • “You don’t understand, this malleophone is more valuable than my life.”
  • my ASL professor using a picture of Kanye West to teach us the sign for egotistical/big-headed
  • the former Swiss Army Knife CEO subbing for my management class and going on a small rant about Google buying and selling Motorola so much
  • The Smoking Bandit who almost killed me on a Tuesday night, and who cussed me out at 3:30 am a week later, but ended it with “love you!!!”
  • The Sexy Lumberjack Twins
  • conversation a day before the presidential election with my section leader
    • “What are you doing?”
    • “Crocheting. Avoiding news outlets.”
    • “Solid plan.”
  • overheard in line to get breakfast the Sunday before finals
    • “So then he calls me at like 3 am looking for weed and I’m like? Oh my god, no, let me finish this paper I don’t have any weed right now.”
  • “I know he’s kind of a fuckboi, but like… a fuckable fuckboi, you know?”
  • the beer stash in the locker room during spring semester that was liberally used before 10 am
  • “There’s pizza being neglected over here!” -instant mad scramble for the table-
  • overheard on the shared balcony attached to my room
    • “Siri, what the FUCK”
  • before a painfully early class
    • “I can’t recall where my phone is.”
    • “There’s a pun in there somewhere, who wants to take it?”
    • “Give me 20 minutes to finish my coffee first.”
  • LGBT Studies professor: “my gay agenda is maple syrup”
  • “I’m an American college student, I point and laugh at serving sizes.”
  • that time I slowly and dramatically flipped the bird at a classmate in the middle of my big presentation and the prof couldn’t even get mad about it because i had good reason
  • that theater teacher who still wears a kilt every day getting a tandem bicycle for no discernible reason
  • “It’s the oboe… of love.”
  • the Numa Numa song echoing across campus on a Monday afternoon like the ghosts of memes past
  • that time I’m 80% sure someone got a blowjob in the bathroom stall while I was taking a shower. It was 9:30 pm on a Thursday.
  • me to my friend with 3 stitches in his arm: “please be more careful on future midnight cheese runs”
  • the heated discussion between some of the music majors in the row in front of me before a faculty concert on the best butts in the department
  • actually this would be a good time to mention that some of the music business majors put together one of those Sexy Guys calendars (you know the kind, usually featuring firefighters and/or puppies) made up of the Hottest Guys™ within the music dept. I’m will waiting to find out where I can order one because I want to laugh at them all.
  • my music appreciation prof: “Using similes with toddlers is wild, I tell you. I was sick over break and told me 3 year old that I felt like I had been hit by a truck, and he asked me what color it was.”
  • this conversation I had with a wind player
    • “Why are you calling [the oboe professor] Bilbro Baggins?”
    • “Because we realized that the mocking name we used to call him had the same number of syllables as Bilbro Baggins, and he seems to respond to Bilbro even worse than to Obro.”
  • the tenors trying desperately to sing a bass part from a YouTube clip of an opera and failing miserably
  • the day of a big concert
    • And I have to go to goddamn Portland this weekend!”
    • “Which one?”
    • “The goddamn one!”
    • “…I meant which coast but yeah, okay.”
  • that Eastern European guy who just… shows up sometimes in front of the UC to sell overpriced posters
  • #laundryday
    • “Wow, you look really nice today! I like your leggings!”
    • “Thanks I ran out of clean pants this morning.”
  • “If you’re going to whistle something in this [the music] building, I’m gonna have to request something more original than Vivaldi’s Spring.”
  • “The art majors are trying to burn down the soccer field.”
    • “What, again?”
  • LGBT Prof: “Can you guys rec me some modern gay songs because all of my gay songs are from the 70s and 80s.”
  • Also LGBT Prof: “I’ve got sixty years of lesbian exes coming through for me, and most of them aren’t even my exes, actually.”
  • overheard in the library: “The gender neutral term for sugar daddy is glucose guardian.”
  • LGBT Prof brought in rainbow goldfish on the last day and the entire class cheered
  • “Shakespeare was a punk-ass bitch and, as an English major, I feel it is well within my rights to say that whenever I damn well please.”
  • I almost walked straight into a pole during finals week because I was falling asleep while walking. Don’t let the internet make you think sleep deprivation is cool and trendy, kids.
  • “Okay, so while you guys are taking the final, I’ll be up here on my computer. It’s gonna look like I’m writing comments on reports, but really I’m just surfing the web.”
‘Hot Guy’ (Final)

Summary: It’s finals week, and that means lots and lots of studying in the library. However, a certain stranger keeps distracting you from your studying. (College Alternate Universe Drabble Series)

Author’s Note: Shoutout to @aelin-blackstairs for helping me!

Previous Part: Part Five

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 817

Originally posted by dailysebastiangifs

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Wirt's Inferno/Dante's Unknown: Allusions to the Divine Comedy in Over the Garden Wall


I must stress that the parallels I draw between Over the Garden Wall and Dante’s Inferno are rather broad as they study the overall themes of the latter in comparison to the occurrences in the former. In my defense, the work that chartered what many consider to be the definitive version of Hell, while undoubtedly a monumental and well-constructed masterpiece of literature, contains several understandable prejudices of the author that are not reflected in the cartoon proper. The primordial spirit of the circles however, the fundamental vices that make the Divine Comedy resonate even centuries later, are incorporated into the narrative as are the broad strokes of Dante’s strange journey through the afterlife.

The Travelers


Wirt, like Dante, is a poet and shares several traits with the Italian soldier and occasional politician. One of the most obvious of these besides his enjoyment of prose is his infatuation with a girl he finds to be truly exceptional, Sara. Like Dante, he seems content to appreciate her from afar and like Dante’s Beatrice, Sara inspires Wirt to create art in his poetry and clarinet mixtape. However, this distance he places between him and her is shown to be a source of great unhappiness, and while he does go on a fantastic adventure in the vein of “courtly love” (a concept Dante lionized) that inexplicably gives him an opportunity to tell her his feelings, it’s made clear that just talking with her would’ve saved him a lot of trouble.

Pride is another quality that Wirt and Dante share. Despite his lack of self-esteem, Wirt tries to, with mixed success, lord over the one person he is confident and cruel enough to impose upon: Greg, who he believes to be an immature imbecile. I must call to your attention that a surefire way to be sent to the Inferno is to be in denial of your own wrongdoings. Wirt is the principle reason that he and Greg wound up in the Unknown, but his insistence that he is guiltless and that Greg is at fault is strongly implied to be the major obstacle preventing them from leaving it.

Then there are the realms themselves. Though one of the most popular visions of the Judeo-Christian underworld, Dante’s Inferno was a very personal invention and reflected a multitude of the author’s own interests and beliefs. Similarly, it’s heavily implied in the ninth chapter that the Unknown was constructed out of Wirt’s (and some of Greg’s) experiences and hobbies. Both poets likewise find themselves frequently bemused in their quests, despite the strange lands they are stranded in containing a multitude of things they are familiar with.

On a bittersweet note, Wirt has one immense difference that sets him apart from Dante: Wirt actually succeeded in returning home while Dante spent his later years exiled from his beloved Florence, lamenting his separation from his birthplace.


While the creative talents behind the program have confirmed that Beatrice was named after Dante’s muse and guide in Paradiso, the Beatrice of Over the Garden Wall spends most of the story being the antithesis of her namesake; discouraging what she considers to be frivolous flights of fancy and spending half of the miniseries leading the brothers to ruination rather than salvation. After undergoing a personal journey of her own, her behavior becomes more in line with Dante’s lost love, saving Wirt and even accompanying him during the last part of his eerie pilgrimage.


Wirt’s Virgil. While more spontaneous and prone to distraction, Greg is something of a poet himself, composing several uplifting songs over the course of the chapters in contrast to his brother’s defeatist lamentations. These improvised tunes being beloved by others and Wirt’s eloquent moanings being ignored (by Greg) or mocked (by Wirt himself) allude to how Virgil and Dante’s poems were regarded during the Divine Comedy respectively. Greg may not have a working knowledge of the Unknown, but his courage and curiosity place him in a better position to engage and resolve the trials the pair face, making him an unorthodox guide to his older and craven sibling. As it was with Virgil, Greg is incapacitated during the final leg of the journey, and Wirt must solve the mystery of the Unknown without him.

The Entrance: Abandon all hope, ye who enter here 

Dante’s quest begins in a forest. In Wirt and Greg’s case, that’s true in more ways than one. As our Narrator kindly reminds us, the Unknown can be entered by those “who travel through the wood”.  This applies to the part of the Unknown they find themselves in initially and the near death experience they shared after almost drowning in a wooded area.

Echoing Dante’s opening plight, Wirt and Greg are pursued by a savage monster. Though Greg’s quick thinking saves their lives, mirroring Virgil’s rescue of Dante from the three beasts chasing him, the altercation destroys the safe haven of the mill, forcing the two of them to travel deeper into the Unknown. Before they go, the Woodsman warns them that the surrounding woods are the home of the Beast, “the death of hope”. However, defying the famous epithet that marks the entrance to the Inferno, he later clarifies that losing hope is about the last thing you want to do in the Unknown as it puts you squarely in the Beast’s clutches.

The First Level: Limbo

Pottsfield is not Limbo itself as the Unknown fits that description better, but it embodies the dilemma that is usually presented to characters that realize they are in Limbo: stay here and be at peace or struggle further in the hopes that you will return home. The passive Wirt is momentarily seduced to choose the first option by how simple and quiet “life” there is and him changing his mind is done more out of being disturbed by the town’s macabre disposition than any real strength of will on his part. Fittingly, as is the fate of those that move past this relatively idyllic portion of hades for deeper zones, this arguably puts him in even greater danger.

Note: The town gets its namesake from a “Potter’s Field”, a type of gravesite for unknown corpses. Conversely, the denizens of Pottsfield all seem to have names, perhaps having regained the identities “lost” during their burial.

The Second Level: Lust

Miss Langtree’s fixation over Jimmy Brown’s supposed infidelity renders her unable to teach. This subsequently renders the sacrifices of her father to keep the school open moot, who in turn accuses Jimmy Brown of “gallivanting”. The two of them are not necessarily bad people, but much like Wirt, they’re too busy moaning about their troubles to fix them. This is made more evident by how Jimmy wasn’t up to any sort of debauchery and was merely working hard to consummate his love for Miss Langtree in the proper fashion. Therefore lust in practice is not the debilitating force here, but the obsession over it.

The Third Level: Gluttony

The patrons and staff of the tavern are people of purpose. Each has their role, their profession, and thus an identity to call their own. All are welcome, even thieves and killers. There is however, one major exception: The Beast. Despite having a “job” of his own and a great singing voice, he is feared and reviled all the same. The innkeeper implies that this is due in part to how the beast lies to get what he wants, in contrast to an “honest” scoundrel like the Highwayman.  

There is also the fact that, unbeknownst to those who fear him, the Beast doesn’t actually “work with his hands” and instead tricks people into acting as his proxies. The metamorphosis into an Edelwood tree, might not even be his own doing. It could just be something that happens to those that fall to despair in the Unknown, a quirk of the land that he exploits so he can keep his lantern fed and even that might be a cruel indulgence. He is not a tradesman, foul or not, he is a parasite. To summarize, the Beast and his lantern are entities of excess as they do not truly earn what they so gratuitously consume.

Note: Something else worth mentioning is how Greg keeps bringing food to his and Wirt’s table to satiate his hunger, but no one, not even his Frog, is ever shown eating any of it.

The Fourth Level: Greed

Quincy Endicott is dead. The tombstone in the Eternal Garden cemetery all but proves that. Thus his and Marguerrite Grey’s fear of one another is simultaneously justified and absurd. Fair enough, but the core theme of this episode doesn’t lie in a Sixth Sense-esque twist, but in the insatiable sinkhole of greed. Quincy is rather frank (while stepping on franks) that his entire life was/has been dedicated to the accumulation of money. He is also quick to tell us that these riches have gone into making his home bigger and in turn, more hollow. Consequently, the tea tycoon is made to feel small and alone in his own house, unable to derive joy from making money as he confesses to despising the beverage he peddles: Indeed, he all but states that he’s done reprehensible things to amass his fortune. He has no one to talk to apart from his peacocks as his estate is devoid of any staff; only opulent furniture keeps him company indoors. The mansion itself is apparently turning on him as well, coming into the possession of new rooms and wings that he can’t recall commissioning that make him feel more lost and confused than ever. There is a glimmer of beauty and hope in this increasingly alien environment when he chances upon a portrait of a beautiful woman, and then things get even worse for him until his “nephews” bail him out. 

The punishment of this circle for those who lived their lives with avarice in their hearts is an eternal jousting match where they are put on one of two sides and “joust” with one another using massive weights. This is expressed in how despite living in the same building, Quincy and Marguerrite have spent an undefined amount of time barely missing one another; locked in a frustrated and chaste dance with no end in sight. For as far as the two of them are concerned, to confront one another directly only has two awful outcomes: the ghost is real, making their love unfeasible or there is no ghost, which would mean that the two of them have gone mad. A line shared by the star-crossed aristocrats when they recognize one another’s names proves that this is all an immense allusion to their situation before they died. They had never met, nor knew what the other looked like. What they did know was that the opposite party was their “business competitor”, a reprehensible entity that dared to get in the way of them gaining a monopoly on tea, a scoundrel that hampered the accumulation of personal wealth. How could they have known that the cure for their loneliness lay in the arms of their respective rivals? And so it was that these two nobles would spend their hereafters haunted by the specter of the love and happiness they deprived themselves of during their mortal existences; architects of a gilded mausoleum. Thankfully, Wirt and Greg help overturn this bedlam and a happy conclusion is reached for Endicott and Grey, who manage to put aside the past animosity that kept them apart while they still had pulses.

Fred is also a creature of greed, a literal horse thief who despite his lack of hands has apparently stolen a great many things before meeting our protagonists. Once he is confronted by the possibility that his kleptomania might get him killed, he swears that he will cease his wrongful purloining and get an honest job. True to his word, he elects to stay behind with Quincy and Grey as “an official tea horse.” In a moment that is up for debate and interpretation, the epilogue has a scene where Marguerrite is staring at a portrait of Quincy and Fred. If this was painted before she and Quincy properly met, mirroring how Quincy fell in love with her image in the painting, then Fred might very well have been Endicott’s steed when they were both alive, adding a sense of irony to the horse unwittingly trying to steal from his former master.

The Fifth Level: Anger and Sorrow

While this circle is primarily associated with Anger, the sullen are punished here as well. They are cursed to eternally drown in the waters of the River Styx, where there is no hope of salvation or joy with the frogs sinking into the mud acting as a visual representation of this. Though the brothers begin the episode with much optimism and mirth, the discovery that their entire quest was a farce causes Wirt’s spirits to sink, dragged down by the betrayal of someone he considered to be his friend. Wirt, as we are soon to find out, doesn’t have many friends. Worse, he is without a guide, and he and Greg are rendered more lost than ever before with no clear goal to work towards.

Anger is expressed in the simple, but understated act of Wirt stealing Adelaide’s scissors, despite having no real use for them himself past cutting the strings, in order to punish Beatrice for deceiving him and Greg.

Note: I would be remiss not to mention the various references to the afterlife in the voyage itself that others have noted in the past. The ferry is Charon’s boat of course, and the two cents acting as the two coins that the morbid boatman usually accepts as his fare. The frogs hibernating in the mud could also be called them taking a “dirt nap”, a colloquialism for being dead and buried.

The Sixth Level: Heresy

Witches and evil spirits are the obvious embodiments of the circle’s theme of heresy, but this episode also has the power of doctrine as a central theme. After all, what is a heretical action without a coda to rebel against? The bell’s hold over Lorna and the Evil Spirit represents the power of instruction. Rules and laws have the capacity to oppress and protect, to enslave or liberate. Auntie Whispers feared Lorna leaving her once she was cured and used the bell to forcefully keep her niece at her side by restraining the spirit, but not exorcising it. Greg had the gumption to use the bell against Lorna, but was too callow to understand how to use it properly. Ultimately it is Wirt, the one usually wracked with indecision and uncertainty that realizes what must be done and does what Whispers was too selfish (and Greg too ignorant) to do.

The Beast is shown to use a doctrine of his own to manipulate the Woodsman. Simple rules: keep the lantern lit and your daughter “lives”. When the Woodsman wonders if there is “a better way”, the Beast is adamant that his word is law and his methods absolute. He is lying of course, but by himself, how can the Woodsman hope to see past the only options presented to him?

The Seventh Level: Violence

A small scale war is waged between the People of Cloud City and the frightfully destructive North Wind. The elemental eventually comes into direct conflict with Greg and the climax of the episode is a battle on two fronts as the blustering bruiser attempts to trounce Greg in his sleep and freeze him outside of it. The boy triumphs with his usual mixture of audaciousness and creativity; of course you can beat a raging storm by stuffing it into a bottle!

Prominent features of this level of the Inferno include a treacherous river located in the outer ring (as represented by the one Wirt and Greg travel on during the chapter’s start, and the one Wirt falls into at its end) and a terrible storm in the inner ring (The North Wind). The middle is what’s most  interesting to people that are familiar with both the Divine Comedy and Over the Garden Wall as it is filled with grotesque trees made from the bodies of those that committed suicide, individuals that gave up on living and surrendered to self-destruction. Wirt is rescued from this terrible (and self-inflicted) transformation by Greg’s sacrifice, but the connection remains rather poignant as it helps build on the idea that the Unknown is a place between life and death.

The Eighth Level: Fraud

Halloween is a day of the dead and a day of disguise. It is a night of imposters and make-believe. What better time to play out the themes of fraud than this? Paradoxically, it is also where a great many truths are revealed alongside a showcase of the many lies that Wirt has invented to exonerate himself from his own cowardice. Among the things we learn is that Wirt and Greg are two American children from the late 20th century, the Garden Wall that the show’s title alludes to was that of a cemetery (named “Eternal Garden”), and that Jason Funderberker isn’t the stud Wirt whines about him being.

Perhaps the greatest display of this episode’s themes lies in Greg and Wirt’s apparel. Greg explains that he wears a tea kettle on his head because he’s pretending to be an elephant. It’s a simple and abstract costume, but one with purpose. Then there’s Wirt’s more elaborate ensemble. When asked what he’s dressed as, Wirt can’t answer the question. He has no idea. The montage of him assembling its components might’ve given him a burst of confidence, but it is ousted as having been utterly nonsensical. That is not to say that Wirt is not masquerading as something. It’s just that he’s disguised as someone who’s wearing a costume: a charlatan’s charlatan.

Counterfeiters and hypocrites rate high (or low, depending on how you look at it) on this plane, and Wirt’s a little bit of both. He wants someone to lead the way and be brave for him, but resents Greg’s aid. His carelessness is what loses him the tape in the first place, which he blames Greg for. Wirt also mistakes his brother’s initiative for recklessness and kneecaps whatever progress Greg’s actions might’ve netted him. Finally, he creates an obtuse narrative that frames Greg and his stepfather as saboteurs due to their insistence that he join marching band. Had he listened, the act might’ve brought him closer to Sara, who he considers lost to him now due to the imagined sabotage. Through reflection, Wirt realizes this and against his usual cowardice, heads out into a brutal blizzard in hopes of saving the brother he disowned and practically drowned. 

The Ninth Level: Treachery

As with any circle, this one closes where it began. It is a chapter of resolution, but also of return. The final act of the production is set in the woods surrounding the Old Grist Mill, the primary location of the first chapter’s happenings now repaired. It is winter, and even those who only have a broad knowledge of Dante’s Inferno know that while the upper levels of that dismal pit may be rife with fire and brimstone, the very bottom is deathly cold.

The Beast is decked out in satanic narrative and visual trappings from across the centuries: the horns, the name, the association with darkness and witchcraft, the predilection for making deals with the desperate and the gullible, and a monstrous reputation that’s justified by the evil he masterminds and commits. He fools his victims into committing worthless and futile acts that serve no higher purpose outside of his personal benefit. Above all else, he is treacherous, a trait that is made distinct from fraud by how it is a betrayal of a more intimate sort. In insincere defiance of his fearsome reputation, he tries to pass himself off as helpful and altruistic; telling the Woodsman, Greg, and Wirt that he’ll help them out if they perform some simple, but essentially idiotic tasks for an indefinite (read: forever) amount of time. Fittingly, it’s Wirt, whose character arc has him learning to stop being a pushover and take responsibility for himself, who sees through the passive-aggressive charade and puts the villain into a corner.

We are given a brief flash of the Beast’s actual appearance, a horrific mass of flesh made up of dozens of anguished faces. His many mouths were a conscious design choice by the creative team to incite feelings of trypophobia (a fear of holes) in viewers with that brief glance, but they’re also symbolic of the circular nature of the Beast. A shadow cannot exist without light; his existence depends on keeping the lantern lit, but he can’t carry it around himself because doing so would reveal to all those he approached that the infamous Beast is nothing more than an abomination built from weakness, a wretch. The Devil of Dante’s Inferno was a fiend with multiple mouths that was comparatively imprisoned by his own wickedness. Over the Garden Wall is rife with characters that are trapped or feel they are trapped (Wirt, Greg, Jimmy Brown, the Langtrees, Quincy, Lorna, etc.), so it’s only fitting that the show’s antagonist is in an inescapable predicament of his own.

The ending of the first part of the Divine Comedy has Dante and Virgil escape Hell by climbing deeper into the earth using Satan’s body. In time, they pass right through the center of the planet and come out the other end. By going down, they eventually came right back up elsewhere. Such is the case with our protagonists as the Beast’s vanquishing facilitates a great many escapes and returns. Wirt returns to consciousness in the water and saves both himself and Greg from drowning; Beatrice, after unintentionally proving her nobility to Wirt, returns to her family with the scissors that will cure them all; the Woodsman reluctantly returns home and to his joy, discovers he was grossly deceived; we get an epilogue of sorts that shows us the secondary characters in states mirroring the ones they were in during the prologue, but mostly altered for the better; and the program ends as it began with the piano playing frog, who reveals (as hinted in the sixth chapter) that he was the narrator all along and might’ve made the whole thing up.

adult!Remus Lupin Imagine - Stop Thinking

“Can I ask for a fic request? Lupin x reader… but it’s POA era so Lupin is a professor and the reader is a 7th year. They both dance around the fact that they’re clearly attracted to each other and he’s desperately trying to be the responsible teacher but eventually they succumb to their attraction…? :D x” - @nervetonic

“Hey so requests are open? Could you please do something with adult Remus Lupin x reader? There’s so many young Remus stuff, which I love, but I could barely find adult remus stuff. Thank you so much! :3″ - Anon

So it sure has been a long time since I’ve posted anything lololol. I am going to put a slight warning on this one - I didn’t write a student/teacher relationship, but I did make the reader considerably younger than Remus. Also I’m going to have a language warning because I definitely threw in a couple of “fuck”s. As always I proofread a bunch so if there are any errors please forgive me! To the anon whose request I combined into the original one I received, if you’re not happy with this please feel free to send in another request when I open them back up; Remus is my fave and I would be happy to write more imagines for him!

Word Count: 4,000+


The Great Hall overflowed with excited students, each trying to talk over the others as they welcomed the new members of their houses and reconnected with their friends. The sorting had just finished and Dumbledore was preparing to stand and give his traditional start of term speech.

(Y/n) glanced around Hagrid, who was seated next to her, down the long table that seated all of the Hogwarts’ professors. Her eyes connected with Professor McGonagall, who nodded slightly, offering (y/n) a small encouraging smile. (Y/n) smiled back, before continuing to peer down the table; she quickly skimmed past Snape, avoiding eye contact, before landing on a new professor she didn’t recognize.

His face was adorned with a few small slashes that had faded into the premature wrinkles around his eyes. The flecks of grey in his hair shone in the light from the thousands of candles hanging above them. He smiled slightly at something Professor Flitwick said and (y/n) couldn’t help but admit that he was handsome. She continued to stare at his profile only slightly paying attention to the other professors chatting around her.

(Y/n)’s reverie was broken by Dumbledore standing and beginning his welcome speech. She flushed when she realized how openly she had been staring at the new professor and tried to focus on Dumbledore’s words.

“This year we are happy to welcome a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Remus Lupin,” Dumbledore said, gesturing toward the man (y/n) had just been admiring as he stood and nodded his head at the students who were giving some half-hearted applause at the announcement. “We are also happy to announce that our own groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, will be taking over as the Care of Magical Creatures professor.” The Gryffindor table erupted into applause, supported weakly by the other houses, when Hagrid stood, looking a bit sheepish. “I would also like to welcome a recent Hogwarts graduate, Ms. (y/n) (y/l/n), who will be working with Hagrid in both his teaching and maintenance endeavors.” You gave a small nod and wave to your former house, who had given a few small cheers in response Dumbledore’s announcement.

Dumbledore gave a few short announcements, half-jokingly warned the first years about the Forbidden Forest, and finally concluded with a wave of his hand. The feast began and (y/n) took up a conversation with Hagrid and Professor Sprout, discussing new treatments for this year’s pumpkin harvest. Despite being engrossed in her conversation, (y/n) found herself glancing over at the new professor, Professor Lupin she had just learned, every few minutes.


The first few weeks of the school year were a whirlwind for Remus. Classes had been going well, the students seemed to be enjoying them and seeing Harry for the first time in so many years had been both gut-wrenching and heartwarming. Remus was currently working on his lesson plans for the next couple of weeks, and considering how successful he had been, he thought it best to send for a few magical creatures to give the students more hands on practice.

Remus considered placing his own order, but thought it would be more efficient to tack it onto whatever Hagrid was probably getting for his own class. He began the trek down to Hagrid’s hut as the sun was setting and upon arriving he was not greeted by Hagrid, but by a girl skillfully ushering a hoard of nifflers into a pen set up next to Hagrid’s garden. She was bathed in the golden light of the setting sun and Remus found himself staring at her as she shooed the last one through the gate and locked it with a tap of her wand. She turned to Remus and stopped short, jumping a little, obviously surprised by his presence.

“Sorry to scare you,” Remus said, suddenly feeling slightly embarrassed at the way he had been watching her. He cleared his throat, shaking off the feeling. “Ms. (y/l/n), correct?”

“Oh, um, yeah,” (y/n) broke her silence. They both paused for a moment before (y/n) spoke up again, “did you need something?” Her eyes grew a little and she quickly backtracked. “I’m so sorry, that didn’t come out right. I just-”

“It’s alright,” Remus chuckled, “I know what you meant. I was actually looking for Hagrid, is he around?”

“No, he headed into Hogsmeade for the evening,” (y/n) paused, still looking a little disoriented, “sorry about that, but if it’s not too complicated I might be able to help.”

Remus chuckled, “I was actually thinking of ordering a grindylow to use during lessons, is Hagrid putting in an order soon?”

“Yeah, we were going to send the order in tomorrow, so we can add that to the list,” (y/n) signaled for Remus to follow her into Hagrid’s hut. “I would have loved having real lessons with actual magical creatures last year,” (y/n) said while searching for the order sheet amongst the stacks of paper spread across Hagrid’s table. “We only had one lesson that was hands on, and it was with Cornish Pixies, so I’m sure you can imagine how that ended.”

Remus and (y/n) laughed together, “I’ve heard a few stories of Professor Lockhart,” Remus said, a small smile still spread across his face.

“You’re lucky you never had to meet him,” (y/n) mumbled, still sifting through the mountain of papers.

“Actually, we were at Hogwarts at the same time, I was a bit older but I heard quite a few stories of his… escapades?” Remus and (y/n) laughed again, but he could see that something had flashed in her eyes. She stiffened slightly and looked back down at the table.

“Here it is,” (y/n) said holding up the order, she cleared a small part of the table and retrieved a quill preparing to add ‘grindylow’ to the list. “Just the one?” she asked, glancing back up at Remus.

“I think that should be fine, do you agree? You are the expert on magical creatures here,” he said, coaxing a smile out of (y/n).

“Hardly,” she said, “that’s why I’m working with Hagrid, there’s always more to learn.”

The pair paused, looking at each other, Remus still couldn’t decipher what was going on in her mind.

“I think just the one should be fine,” (y/n) said breaking the silence that was quickly becoming awkward and jotting it down at the bottom of the list.

Remus and (y/n) walked out of Hagrid’s hut in silence, pausing at the bottom of the stairs that led to Hagrid’s door. Remus couldn’t help but compare the moment to the end of a first date. He quickly forced the thought away, and cleared his throat before thanking (y/n).

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” (y/n) said, smiling before looking back down at the ground, “it’s getting dark so uh-”

“I should probably get back up to the castle before it’s too dark to see,” Remus said, trying to smile or laugh, anything to remove the tension from the moment. “I’m sure I’ll see you around the grounds,” he said starting to walk away, “or whenever I have any questions for the magical creature expert.”

“You should probably make sure Hagrid is here then,” (y/n) said smirking and offering a small wave. She turned and headed toward her small hut that had been built next to Hagrid’s.

Remus walked the entire way back up to the castle with a smile that he couldn’t quite shake off. She’s practically a student, he told himself, you’re almost double her age. Remus paused a few steps away from the entrance to his office. There’s nothing wrong with being her friend, she works at Hogwarts, and you’re bound to run into her. Remus finally entered his office, taking off his cloak and preparing for bed, the entire time repeating loose justifications for spending time with (y/n) to himself.


(Y/n) quickly entered her hut, shutting and bolting the door before leaning her back against it. She slid down onto the floor and pressed her palms to her burning cheeks. Holy shit (y/n) get a grip. He’s a professor. (Y/n) dropped her hands from her face and pulled her knees to her chest, but you work here now. “That doesn’t change anything” she whispered aloud, slowly getting up and changing into a huge tshirt and athletic shorts before sitting down on the edge of her bed.

(Y/n) flopped backwards and crossed her arms over her face. She replayed the evening in her mind. She had felt his equal through their conversation, and then he had mentioned attending Hogwarts with Lockhart and (y/n) had realized just how unequal they were. He was a professor, and she was still practically a student. But the way he looked at me- (y/n) cut off her own thought, you can’t think like that, he was just being friendly.

Removing her arms from her face, (y/n) slipped under the covers and struggled to fall asleep and her mind raced with justifications for talking to Remus again.


Over the next couple of weeks Remus started to seek out little conversations with (y/n) whenever he got the chance. Remus would “forget” little facts about magical creatures, and asking (y/n) for the answer was easier than looking it up in some old book, right? He pretended not to thrive off the way her eyes lit up when as she answered his questions, or the way her lips would curl into a smirk whenever they joked with each other.

Remus was making his way across the grounds one afternoon when he saw (y/n) coming toward him looking solemn. Completely absorbed in her own thoughts, she didn’t even see Remus coming.

“(Y/n)?” Remus called, causing to her look at him with wide eyes, reminding Remus of their first official meeting. When she didn’t answer, he continued, “are you alright? Did something happen?”

“Yeah- well, no. No it’s really not.” Remus could see the tears welling up in her eyes. (Y/n) turned her face and blinked hard, fighting them back. She turned back to him, obviously still fighting her emotions, “I have to get up to the castle, excuse me.”

Remus stood and watched her leave, then turned to continue down to Hagrid’s. When he was about halfway there he remembered that (y/n) was the reason he was heading there anyway. I don’t even have a question for her, I just wanted to see her. Remus had to sit on a nearby rock to recover from the shock of his realization. After taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he rose slowly and headed back toward the castle with every intention of retrieving his bottle of firewhiskey, sitting in his office, and forgetting that this had even happened.

Sitting in his office an hour later, vision blurring at the edges thanks to bottle sitting in front of him, he still couldn’t stop thinking about (y/n).

The image of her with tears in her eyes stirred up a whirlwind of emotion in Remus. In that moment he had longed to draw her into his arms and let her cry. At the same time, he admired how she had handled herself, holding her head high despite her obvious distress.

She’s strong, intelligent, funny, beautiful. Merlin, she’s so pretty. The way she always tucks her hair behind her ears when she starts to talk about her work, or the way she smiles when she sees me coming across the grounds, or the way-



(Y/n) sat outside the doors of the hospital wing, trying to reign her emotions before going in. She couldn’t cry once she got inside, this was her job, for Merlin’s sake.

Draco had been “attacked” by Buckbeak earlier that day and Hagrid had sent her to check on his progress. (Y/n) wasn’t crying for Draco, her tears were for Hagrid. He had worked so hard to make his lessons exciting and informational, and then Draco had waltzed in and it had all come crashing down. She could see the defeat in Hagrid’s face, he was convinced he would be fired the second Lucius got word that his son was in the hospital wing.

She drew in a single deep breath before rising and pushing the doors open. Her discussion with Madame Pomfrey was short and to the point. As soon as it was over (y/n) rushed back down to Hagrid’s hut so that she could update him.

Once (y/n) finished telling Hagrid that Draco would ultimately be fine, his injuries were all superficial and easily healed, she headed to her hut once again sat against her door trying to gather her thoughts. She found her mind wandering to when she had run into Remus earlier that evening.

He was headed down to Hagrid’s- or maybe to see me? I’ve never seen him actually talk to Hagrid he always comes to spend time with me and ask me questions. Why would he-



Over the next few of days (y/n) didn’t see Remus at all; the first couple of days weren’t a surprise, there had been a full moon which would have left Remus bedridden. She had figured it out the month before that Remus was a werewolf, and while she been angry at first, she came to realize that it didn’t change him. He was still the man with the kind and gentle smile who visited her and made her laugh whenever he could. The days following the moon were a mystery to (y/n) though, he still hadn’t come to see her and she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

While she was preparing the flobberworms for Hagrid’s, now tamer, class her mind kept wandering back to him. He can’t be mad because I brushed him off when I was crying, right? That’s ridiculous, he’s my… friend? Is that even the right word for what we are? ‘Co-workers’ who spend a lot of time together and are attracted to each other? Or at least, I’m attracted to him, and I don’t think he’s attracted to me… but he has been acting weird.

(Y/n) stood up straight so that she could shake out her shoulders, she just needed to talk to him. She wanted to get back to how they had been before. Whether or not (y/n) was attracted to him was beside the point, that was never going to happen so she might as well be his friend.

Christmas was fast approaching and (y/n) planned to talk to seek out Remus, something she had never needed to do before, so that she could get weird friendship back on track. They were both staying over the break and it would be much easier to talk to him when there weren’t a lot of students milling around and they both didn’t have much work to do.


Remus, on the other hand, was hell bent on avoiding (y/n) for as long as he could. The first few days after his realization had been easy because there was a full moon and he needed time to recover, but after that it would steadily grow more difficult. He knew that he should at least tell (y/n) that he had no interest in being her friend, a bold-faced lie, but better than just never talking to her again. However, he also knew that he would never be able to get the words out once he saw her.

Christmas break was starting and Remus wrongfully assumed that (y/n) was going home to see her family. On Christmas Eve he sat at his desk grading the last batch of essays from the sixth years when he heard a soft knock on his already open office door.

He glanced up to see (y/n) standing in his doorway looking sheepish.

“Hi,” she said quietly, offering a small smile. “Do you mind if I…” she trailed off looking at the chair in front of his desk.

After recovering from his mild shock, Remus nodded. “Ye-yes, please sit down. Did you need something?” he asked and without missing a beat continued, “I’m so sorry, that came out wrong-”

“I know what you meant,” (y/n) said trying not to smile, remembering the way they had first met. Remus ducked his head, chuckling slightly. “I just wanted to drop by and say hello… you stopped coming around,” (y/n) paused, knotting her hands together, “I guess you didn’t need my expert advice anymore.”

The pair both gave each other strained smiles. Remus took a deep breath, opened his mouth to speak, but closed it quickly. He stood, moved across his office, closed the door, and then returned to his seat across from (y/n). Forcing himself to make eye contact with her, he felt a pang of guilt when he saw how confused and… hurt maybe? he wondered to himself.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t been to see you, but… I’m not sure that it’s entirely appropriate for us to see each other as much as we were.”

“I don’t understand,” (y/n) said, having trouble keeping her voice from wavering. “It’s not appropriate for us to talk to each other about our jobs?”


“No, it’s fine. If you don’t want to talk to me anymore that’s fine. It’s fine. It’s really, really, fine.” Remus could see that (y/n) was forcing back tears, and he knew that he had let this go on too long, but there was no turning back now.

(Y/n) took in a shaky breath and stood quickly forcing her chair back; the screeching sound it made cut through the heavy silence hanging in the air. She turned to the door, but before she could go anywhere Remus stood and caught her arm from across the desk.

“Of course I want to talk to you,” he said, his voice dipping, causing goosebumps to erupt across (y/n)’s arms. He dropped her arm so that he could walk around his desk and stand in front of her. (Y/n) stayed silent, staring at Remus and searching his eyes for the meaning behind his words.

Remus lifted his hand and with a lot of hesitation, rested his palm against (y/n)’s cheek. She flinched slightly at his touch, but allowed him to keep his hand there.

“What are you doing?” (y/n) whispered breathlessly.

“I’m not sure,” Remus replied before tilting his head closer to hers. He could feel his heart pounding as he watched (y/n)’s eyes flickered shut. Remus closed his too and rested his forehead against hers. (Y/n) fisted her hand into the front of his shirt, keeping the other balled at her side.

(Y/n) lifted her chin, brushing her lips softly against Remus’. “This is mad,” she whispered.

“Never been the best at making decisions,” Remus said, out of breath just from his proximity to (y/n).

“Are you going to kiss me or not?”

Remus’ stomach jumped against (y/n)’s hand as he held back a little laugh at her boldness. Pulling in a shaky breath, he pressed his lips gently to hers, then more forcefully. (Y/n) responded with enthusiasm, letting out a soft moan when Remus slid his hand back into her hair. Remus growled at the sound and snaked his other arm around her waist to pull her flush to him. (Y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck, standing up on her toes to push impossibly close to him. Remus opened his mouth, sliding his tongue across her bottom lip, when (y/n) opened her mouth in response, Remus’ eyes flew open suddenly realizing exactly what was happening.

He pulled his mouth way from her and pushed her away from him by the hips, ensuring that she was at least an arm’s length away. Remus turned away from her and ran a hand down his face, letting out a shaky breath.


(Y/n) stood where Remus had pushed her breathing heavily. She stared at his tense shoulders, trying to think of something to say. She knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, he had been in control of the entire situation. (Y/n) stayed quiet, waiting for him to say something, anything.

When Remus finally turned around, breathing under control, (y/n) could see the regret painted across his face. Before he could speak (y/n) spoke.


“Don’t wha-”

“You don’t have to explain to me why that was a mistake, or why we shouldn’t talk about it, or see each other, or whatever you were going to say. I don’t want to hear it. If that’s what you really want, fine, but-” (y/n) paused, gathering herself, “but I’m an adult and I can take care of myself.”

They stood staring at each other while (y/n) waited for Remus to say something. When he didn’t she looked away from him, toward to door.

“Cool, okay… yeah, no this is fine.”

“(Y/n),” Remus said, but didn’t continue.

(Y/n) took a deep breath, “I’m going to go back down to my hut. I’m going to make some hot chocolate and pretend like this never happened. It’s not exactly going to be easy, but what’s a girl supposed to do,” she finished chuckling to cover the hurt that laced her voice.

Later that night (y/n) sat in a big armchair that resided in the corner of her hut, reading one of her favorite books and trying to keep her mind off Remus. She wasn’t actually succeeding though, she kept replaying their kiss in her head. It was more than just a kiss, we were making out, like full on-

(Y/n)’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door. She rose slowly, expecting Hagrid with some sort of task for her that he didn’t want to handle himself. (Y/n) opened the door while saying, “hi Hagri-”

(Y/n) stopped short at the sight of Remus standing in her doorway.

“Not Hagrid.”

“Yeah, I got that,” (y/n) said quietly. “Do you want to…” she trailed off motioning into the single room of her hut, “it’s freezing outside.”

“Thank you,” Remus said stepping inside. They both stood awkwardly, not really looking at each other. Finally, Remus spoke, “I’m sorry.”

“For what? Kissing me or regretting it right after?” (y/n) asked, anger bubbling to the surface.

“Both?” Remus hesitated, “it would have made it a lot easier to work here, with you, had I not.”

“But you did,” (y/n) said forcing her anger down and keeping her tone neutral.

Remus’ shoulders sagged, “I did, and- and I’m glad I did, because I’ve wanted to for longer than I’d care to admit, but… but this isn’t exactly a normal situation. There’s more to this than just-”

“Is this about you being older than me or you being a werewolf?” (y/n) asked without skipping a beat and looking, for the most part, calm.

Remus stared at her, lips drawn into a tight line and jaw clenched.

“I’ve known since last month, you’re not the subtlest when it comes to-”

“I think I should go,” Remus cut (y/n) off. He turned toward the door, prepared to leave and, as far as (y/n) knew, not return.

“I don’t care.”

Remus stopped in his tracks, whipping his head around to give her a stern look. “You should.”

“Well I don’t,” (y/n) paused, gauging Remus’ reaction. When he turned back around to face her, she continued, “I don’t care that you’re a werewolf, because you’re still you. And I don’t what people would think of us. That shouldn’t matter.”

“(Y/n), I just think-”

“So then stop thinking.”


Remus let out a sigh, staring at the fierce girl in front of him. She wasn’t backing down, wasn’t making this any easier for him. He hadn’t been sure what he was going to say to her or what direction this conversation was going to go in, but he didn’t expect her to blurt out that she knew he was a werewolf. He sure as hell didn’t expect her to be okay with it.

“You’re still thinking,” (y/n) said when Remus didn’t respond.


“Okay, what?”

“I’m done thinking,” Remus said stepping toward her and resting his hand on her face in the same place it had been only a couple of hours earlier.

“Good,” (y/n) whispered, fisting her hands in his shirt and pushing up on her toes, “that makes two of us.”


Movie Clichés

Summary: I’m a realist who looks down on movie cliches. Bucky is an optimist who believes in true love. What happens when we make a checklist movie clichés and try to complete all of them in one week? (Modern-Day Alternate Universe)

Author’s Note: I felt like this fanfic was a little too specific to be a general reader, so I wrote it in first-person. I hope you guys like it. Let me know if I should do a part two.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 1,122

Originally posted by vibraniumdoll

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friendship da(y)te

summary: au where simon and baz are best friends and friendship day comes around. okay, i promise it’s not that lame,, please read my fic

word count: 1.4k

this is for @carryon-valentines day 1: friendship day

i’m sorry i might’ve made it less friend and more SHIP but yeah


“BAZ!” I yell as soon as I spot his tall, lean figure heading towards me. “Happy Friendship Day!”

I run towards him and envelope him in a bone-crushing hug.

“You too, Snow!”

His arms come up around my waist and we just stand there. Holding each other. Like we’ve done so many times before. Not romantically.

But I wish it were.

Romantic, I mean.

It’s been this way for months now, since I figured it out. That I liked Baz. He’s my best friend, he’s been my best friend for years, and I know everything about him. Only later I realized that my obsession with him was not just because of our strong friendship.

It was because of his deep, grey eyes and how they twinkle when he smiles.

It was because of his silky, soft hair that falls in perfect waves- framing his face (really, everything about him is a piece of art.)

It was because of making him play the violin not just because he’s brilliant, but also so that I could watch him focus while his eyes are shut.

Yeah, I’m obsessed. And I don’t even know how to tell him because…

What if he takes it badly?

It might fuck up our friendship.

And there’s no way in hell that I’m taking that chance.


I can see his mop of bronze curls from a mile away, and I can recognize them within seconds. Because I’m whipped. He hugs me as soon as he sees me, and I hold him there, just like I do all the time. I rest my head on his, and I breath in his smoky, refreshing scent that’s all too familiar by now. I don’t think he knows that I love him, and I don’t think he realizes how much it pains me to celebrate “Friendship Day” with him, because honestly. Enough of this friendship thing. I’m pretty sure I fell for him two days after we met, but he’s a moron and he’s straight. So. I just wallow in my misery everyday. We have only a few minutes here anyway; he has to go to his classes (astrophysics- his first class on Tuesday mornings) (it is sad that I know that) and I have to go for mine- History (honestly a really boring subject- I happen to know everything already since I studied it during the vacation.) We’ll meet again at lunch for an hour and a half, and then if he decides to come over, then maybe longer. But that’s it. Nothing special to look forward to.

“Baz, how about dinner today?” he asks.

“Sure. As a Friendship Day thing?”

“As a date, I guess.”

I pray that I’m not blushing. He says it so plainly. It can’t possibly mean more that being just a get-together in the name of our friendship.

But I guess I do have something to look forward to.




Did I just say that? Oh my god.

As soon as Baz turns away, I’m pretty sure I’m red enough to stop traffic. I rush to class, worried about just about everything that could possibly go wrong. I float through the day, until it’s lunch, where I finally see Baz again.

He starts conversation immediately-

“So, what, for our dinner do you want me to wear a suit?”

He says it sarcastically, and obviously I know he’s being sarcastic, but it would be great to see him in a suit.

So I say, “Sure, if you want to.”

He cocks his head towards me. “Okay. I’ll wear a suit if you do.”

If it means seeing Baz in a suit, then yes I’m wearing a suit.


Fifteen minutes before I have to get there, I start searching for suits, and simultaneously realize how my time management skills are equivalent to those of a coconut. I have none.

After three minutes of frantic searching, I find a grey suit that looks about my size and that’ll have to do because honestly, I’m having a bit of a time crisis here. I head to the bathroom and hastily get dressed, and then I rush to the restaurant where I’m should’ve reached ten minutes ago.


I happen to have an entire collection of suits because of our family dinners. So I just went through them and chose a dark, black one. Typical.

I left the house giving myself twenty minutes to get there. We’re going to a relatively fancy restaurant so we don’t look too out of place with our outfits. I reach there five minutes before time, and I’m pretty sure I’ve reached before Simon. He’s late all the time anyway, so it’s no surprise. And I like the idea of being here before him so I can take some time to take in the surroundings, and so that I can choose a nice place to sit- preferably in the corner, so Simon and I can talk in peace.

Why does our little friendship day outing feel like a date?

Simon walks in ten minutes later, his eyes searching. I wave to him, and he heads towards me. Are his pupils a little blown or is that just me?

It’s probably just me.

He’s wearing a grey suit, and it’s sitting on his shoulders perfectly, outlining him and somehow not looking too tight. His hair is messy and tousled, as it is all the time, and his eyes are like shining wells of clear water reflecting the brilliant blue sky above. It’s overwhelming.

He looks stunning.


I look at Baz, and I just can’t stop looking.

Because shit.

He’s beautiful.

In a black suit that compliments his lean, muscular features and his grey eyes (that look bright now, because of his dark clothing) perfectly. I think it’s too much for me to take. I just really want to kiss him. He’s sitting in front of me, and even though we’re talking about what food we’re about to order, I’m just thinking about his lips. And how they move when he talks to me. And how they would taste if I, you know, hypothetically of course, kissed him.

This really does feel like a date. He insists on paying. And that leaves me feeling like I should give him something in return.

How about a kiss? My mind nags. I force it to shut up.

But it doesn’t stop.


We walk out of the restaurant, and it’s dark.

He asks me if I want to stay over, and obviously, I don’t deny.

We’re walking alone to his place.

It’s dark.

And I want to kiss him.

“Baz…” Simon says.

I stop and turn to him.

His eyes are bright with some kind of unidentifiable fire.



Okay, fuck it. I’ve had enough. I need Baz’s lips on mine.

“You know what?” I say, “I didn’t give you anything for friendship day.”

I take a step closer, and I can only hope that his expression is a reflection of my own.

“I mean…” I go on, “You gave me that dinner.”

A step forward.

“So thank you for that.”

And another.

“And now…I want to give you…”



He’s so close, so close.

And then he kisses me.

His lips are on mine, moving, and hot.

My arms move slide up around his back, and he pushes me.



Baz is kissing me back.

It’s unbelievable.

His lips are magical. Just what I expected.

It’s hot and it’s cold at the same time.

And I’m kissing Baz.



He isn’t stopping.

And honestly, I’m glad.

Simon Snow is kissing me.

I’m kissing Simon Snow.

My best friend.

My love.


The moment stretches and the kiss feels much longer than it actually is. It’s not like I’m keeping track of anything.

I’m way past rational thought.

The sparks I feel running through my veins and the tingles I feel every time I make contact with Baz’s skin seem imaginary and all too real, at the same time.

Let’s never stop this.



Okay, firstly, Simon is gay. Or bisexual. Whatever it is, it’s an actual blessing.

Secondly, Simon is so good at this kissing thing?

His arms, his jaw, his tongue.

They all seem to exactly what they’re doing.

I, on the other hand, have my mouth jammed against his; my arms are tracing random patterns on his back. It all worries me, really. What if I’m not good enough? I’m probably shit, considering my experience with this stuff.

But Simon is smiling against my mouth.

And Simon is sighing and saying my name.

Maybe…maybe I’m doing okay.




I pull away, reluctantly.

It takes so much effort.

“Let’s go home?”

Baz sighs, nods, and takes my hand.

It is a happy friendship day indeed.

B99 + Hogwarts AU headcanons

So I saw @jcobperalta​​‘s Jake & Amy Hogwarts AU photoset earlier and was spurred on a headcanon making spree with my friends. (Shout out to @nothingobscure​ and @sallydonovan​!) Behold:

Houses & Quidditch:

  • Jake’s a Gryffindor. He costs them about 50 points every few days for his class tardiness, pranks, and other shenanigans, but he’s still super competitive about winning the House Cup. It works out because he’s a chaser of their Quidditch team and always tries really hard to score enough goals so that they win even if the opposing team’s Seeker catches the Snitch. 
  • Charles is supposed to be a Hufflepuff, but he begs the Sorting Hat to put him in Gryffindor with Jake. The Sorting Hat concedes.
  • The Sorting Hat has trouble deciding if Amy should be a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin, but ultimately decides on Ravenclaw when Amy tires to bring out her Reasons I Should Be In Ravenclaw binder.
  • Terry’s a Hufflepuff. He’s one of the beaters of their Quidditch team and serves as captain for a year or two until he has to step down to accept the role of prefect. 
  • When Terry gets appointed as Head Boy, he decides to become a reserve player because: “What’s going to happen to the school if something happens to me out on the pitch?! Terry loves Quidditch, but Terry also loves being alive enough to lead my fellow students!” Half the season goes by before he realizes that someone always takes one for the team and gets “injured” so that Terry gets sent out to play. 
  • Gina’s a Slytherin but somehow always knows the password to the other House’s common rooms. She gets offered the prefect position but turns it down so she has time to focus on her real passion: dance.
  • Rosa’s a Gryffindor and plays as one of their beaters. The entire school is afraid of her, even the Slytherins. She would’ve been put in Slytherin except she threatened to tear the Sorting Hat into shreds if she weren’t sorted into Gryffindor.
  • Hitchcock and Scully are also in Gryffindor, but they’re like the Dean and Seamus to Jake and Charles’ Harry and Ron. 
  • Holt is Head of House for Ravenclaw. The Headmaster has to have a conversation with him after he sets an unsolvable riddle (about islanders and see-saws) at the entrance of the Ravenclaw common room. 
  • The Vulture doesn’t go to Hogwarts. He goes to Durmstrang but visits Hogwarts every year or so when his headmaster comes over for a meeting. He makes it a point to make a grand entrance into the Great Hall and then insults every single person there. 

Family Heritage:

  • Jake’s a half-blood. His dad’s a wizard, and his mom’s a muggle. Roger walks out on them before teaching Jake anything about magic, so Jake knows almost 0 things about Hogwarts. 
  • Gina is also a half-blood except her mom’s a witch while her dad’s a muggle. Growing up, she tries to teach Jake some of the magic she learns about from her mom, which is not very much because Darlene is busy working most of the time. 
  • Amy’s a muggle-born, but she knows way more about Hogwarts than any of her classmates because she read Hogwarts: A History at least five times before the school year started. 
  • Terry’s a sympathetic pure-blood who looks out for all of his half-blood and muggle-born friends. He almost loses his prefect badge after being caught about to punch someone for calling Amy a mudblood. 
  • Charles is a pure-blood, but he’s absolutely fascinated by muggle cuisine. “Did you know they actually take time and energy to cook this stuff instead of just using magic? I mean, come on, guys. You have to try this.” He only manages to convince Terry that yogurt is amazing. 
  • Nobody knows anything about Rosa’s family.


  • Charles is bad at almost every class, but he’s somehow really good at Potions because it’s just like cooking. Only Charles can make Polyjuice appetizing. 
  • Hitchcock and Scully almost fail Potions because they keep trying to eat the ingredients. 
  • Gina is the first to master the Patronus Charm because she needs to show everyone that she is one with her spirit animal: the wolf. 
  • Charles’ Patronus is either a cow or goat, and everyone’s really confused about how excited he is over this. He proceeds to tell them about strange muggle delicacies. 
  • Jake is a terrible test taker, but he’s amazing at the practical aspect of their Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
  • When they get introduced to a hippogriff during their Care of Magical Creatures class, Jake gets badly injured after forgetting to bow. Gina is the first student to get approached by the hippogriff, which only makes sense because “naturally, it recognizes that I am the higher being here.” 
  • Holt has his version of the Slug Club except it’s a lot more inclusive. He invites all students to come join him for dinner once a month. They’re really weirded out at first when they find out that dinner consists only of nutrition bricks, but they stay to hang out anyway because Holt’s husband is their super cool Muggle Studies professor, Kev. 

cheeky lil sprace soulmate au for yall!

The lines started appearing when Race was seventeen. One moment in class, he was working through a few physics problems, completely focused, and the next, he was staring at the black line on his arm. It was thin and scratchy like a ballpoint pen, and didn’t seem to follow any discernable pattern. Race watched in shock at the line continued slowly across the top of his forearm before coming to a close back at the start. He stared at the shape, trying to find any meaning in it, before realizing that it looked a little bit like a dog. After uncapping his pen, Race drew a quick face on what may or may not have been a dog, along with a bone.

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anonymous asked:

Kackaaaaaaaa I love you, you're THE BEST! Happy birthday! Promt for Bellarke: we have friends with benefits relationship (even though I secretly love you) but now I'm pregnant and I don't know how to tell you bc I'm afraid that you'll freak out.

Ahhh thanks! <333 Hope you like it! (ao3)


Clarke only feels moderately weird about letting herself into Wells and Bellamy’s apartment when she knows they’re not home.

On the one hand, the spare key they gave her is supposed to be for emergencies. On the other hand, she’d definitely consider being covered in someone else’s vomit an emergency.

When she applied to teach elementary school art, she’d known she’d probably come home messy most days. But with paint, and clay, and glue stuck to her skin. Not from a kid accidentally losing his lunch on her when he came to say he didn’t feel well.

It ended up being more show than tell.

Her principal had given her the go-ahead to cancel the rest of her classes for the day, but going home meant becoming the vomit lady on the bus, and it’s just so much easier for her to go two blocks over to use her friends’ shower.

Wells is the most generous person she knows; she can’t imagine he’d say no if she asked. And Bellamy… well, they’re not exactly close. He’s mostly just Wells’s roommate, Octavia’s brother, the friend in her group she’s least connected to. But he’s a teacher too, and the ultimate Mom friend. Even if he made fun of her endlessly, even if he bickered her into buying him a beer in exchange for the slight addition to his water bill, even if she had to face his smug smile, he wouldn’t actually bar her from using his shower in a time of crisis such as this.

None of those things are out of character for Bellamy. He loves giving her a hard time, and she’s had enough of that today. Which is why she doesn’t text them for permission first.

Instead, she smothers the slightly guilty feeling in the pit of her stomach, dumps her clothes in the wash, and lets out a long, shuddering breath when she steps under the spray.

It feels a little weirder when she reaches for the shampoo on the shelf. It’s just– she hasn’t had a significant other, or even a one night stand, in quite a while. The last time she used someone else’s products, allowing someone else’s scent to cling to her skin and hair, was ages ago.

“Too long ago, apparently,” she grumbles to herself, working her hair into a lather. “Maybe it’s time to get you laid, Griffin.”

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anonymous asked:

Supercorp prompt: They're totally a couple but they just don't realise it yet!

Now, she doesn’t want to accuse her sister of anything. She doesn’t, despite what her narrowed eyes and pursed lips might suggest. It’s just that…you’d think after living with an alien for over half your life, the alien would know better than to attempt to lie.

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For @skiretehfox’s Maximus AU which is one of my favorite iterations of Max (and it’s how I found your blog!) I fell in love with her at first sight and this is me singing praise and thanks for creating her and the whole AU. I hope I didn’t write her ooc and if I did, please correct me. Anyways, here’s the fic, enjoy!

Maximus Victory

Maximus was never one to be bothered to make an effort. In fact, she’s given up trying altogether. She’s learned at an early age that effort is futile but it’s not because of the ratio of attempts to failures, rather the opposite. Everything was just so easy to achieve and so predictable. The world was dictated by patterns and to accomplish a goal was to simply follow the set path with predetermined rules. Perhaps that’s why the only semblance to excitement there was in life for her was when she’s bending the said rules or when there were hardly any restrictions in the first place. Either works and since she gets bored easily, she doubles in both.

She majors both in Law and in the Arts, Photography in particular, at the same time. There’s a reason why she specializes in both of these areas. Manipulating the laws of legality was interesting enough to work as a brain-teaser for her on good days. Manipulating the laws of photography to get that perfect shot can be entertaining and fulfilling at times. And then there’s the hidden third Major in Time, manipulating the laws of space and time just because she can.

No, she didn’t fucking stutter. She has time powers, deal with it.

It’s a rather dull story if you asked Maximus and although it was surprising at the time, that excitement obviously didn’t last for the rest of her life. Actually, that got her the time powers in the first place: the end of her life, or at least it was supposed to be. Coming from a prestigious family has its own downsides aside from the boring parties filled with pretentious adults pretending to give a shit. For Maximus, she got kidnapped at the age of ten. The criminals weren’t even professionals and ended up accidentally shooting her. She would have died too or maybe she did die but her rewind just overwrote that history. Needless to say, someone other than her ended up with a bullet on that day.

Rewinding time? What-the-fuck-ever. She doesn’t give a shit.

Having time powers got old real fast. It was nothing that extraordinary for her as mastering any other skill. Within weeks she learned how to prevent the nosebleeds and within months, she could rewind for more minutes than she’ll ever need to. She’s confident that she knows how it works and mastered all of its tricks so much in fact that whatever thrill she felt on the first time had long since died along with the timeline where she’s supposed to be dead. The supernatural aspect of it has been normalized and has now become routine. In short, she got bored. She started to think that whatever this was just might be the most exciting experience she’ll ever get.

Her boring days carried on until she turned eleven and she attended a charity event in Seattle with her parents. She absolutely loathed these social gathering of hypocrites and if she had a choice, she wouldn’t be here at all. Unfortunately being a kid meant less free will on her part but at the very least she was allowed freedom to separate and roam on her own. The exhibit wasn’t even that interesting but it will have to do rather than the annoying adults that filled it. As she easily weaved through the groups of people she would have nothing to do with, she eavesdropped on voices that only spoke of bullshit.

Until she heard a voice that seemed to carry an IQ that was higher than the room’s average.

“What an insult.” The voice belonged to a girl with long blond hair and a scowl that matched her disgust. She’s standing by one of the art booths and muttering to herself far too loudly and condescending. “No one’s actually here to donate for the arts. Everyone’s too busy kissing ass with people instead of actually admiring the displayed masterpieces.” She glared at the room in general with great disapproval that Maximus couldn’t help but approve.

“Masterpieces?” She smoothly took a spot beside her with an amused smirk. “Point me at one when you see them.”

The girl turned to her, most likely surprised that someone would comment on her not so inner monologue. Her cheeks were tinged red with embarrassment but she quickly masked it under the guise of anger. She’s certainly a proud one. “Well of course I didn’t mean all of these!” She gestured to the entirety of the room and then crossed her arms. “There’s no such thing as a gallery filled with only the best works. More than half are usually dull stud shots just trying to catch a ride on the greatness of the actual good ones.”

Well she’s not wrong although Maximus wouldn’t want to inflate her ego by admitting that. At least this girl knew what she was talking about and she had the backbone to speak them out. Her eyes shone with the slightest of interests. “Huh, is that what you think so?” She tested her, intimidating.

“That’s what I know so.” The girl confidently replied and with a raised chin, she beckoned her, “And? What do you think?”

Maximus blinked. That’s new. So there truly existed a person who wouldn’t shrink from her. This girl could hold her own ground and who was Maximus to deny her conversation? “Hmm…” She hummed shortly and then pointed to one photo in particular. “Well this guy’s trying too hard to go for Avedon-esque.”

It was unexpected but the girl’s face lit up at the mention of the photographer. It was so bright and instantaneous that Maximus could have sworn that a flash literally went off. “You know Richard Avedon? He’s my hero!” She started excitedly and even jumped a bit when she fully turned towards her. When she realized that she had forgotten the proper but also boring TPO, she quickly composed herself. She held herself back but the embers in her eyes continued to glow warmly. “I mean… ahem, yes it is rather distasteful at how poor his attempt is. It’s an absolute disgrace. I can’t believe this crap is even here.”

So this girl apparently also knew how photography worked and Maximus is impressed because that’s already more than most of the guests’ actual knowledge of the art. “And how would your attempt be?”

“Obviously better than this amateur.” She scoffed and there was something with the way she said it, the power in her voice, that told her that she wasn’t just all talk. “See, the technique is just…” And then she proceeded to expound on how to pull off an Avedon photoshoot.

And although Maximus was not one to socialize, she thought that she didn’t mind spending time with this girl.

“Maximus Caulfield.” She finally said after their fourth conversation. There was a small but noticeable proud grin on her face. This girl had earned the right to her name and frankly, she enjoyed her company. “It’s a fucking relief to know that there’s someone here who isn’t a retard.”

The girl just nodded in agreement. “Likewise. You aren’t just air yourself.” Despite her proud attitude, there was a clear underlying tone of approval in her voice. “If you don’t already know, I’m Maribeth Chase. I suppose you can call me Mary for short.”

“Mary, huh?” She rolled the name across her tongue experimentally. Something about the name just didn’t sit right with her and she wracked her brain as to why. In the end, she couldn’t figure out the reason but she did figure out a new nickname. “Nah, I think I’ll just call you Vic.”

“Vic?” She repeated and with obvious confusion written on her face. “Why Vic?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. It just feels right.”

“Well I’m not the only one going home with a stupid nickname, Maxine.” She eyed her levelly.

“It’s Max, never Maxine.” Maximus shot back and then smirked. “I think we’re going to get along just fine, Vic.”

They got along more than just fine, so much in fact that their parents already arranged for them to get married in the future.

Not like that made any difference since Maximus wasn’t planning on spending the rest of her life with anyone else. She already spent her first eleven years with boring complacency and she’d be damned if that lasted any longer. So they meet again at another gala the next month and then after, they scheduled a meeting without the crowd of overaged morons. Maximus found Vic interesting enough that she dropped from her current school and transferred to hers. Vic couldn’t believe what she did at first but she may have half screamed half squealed when her parents confirmed the fact. Maximus later found out about it and teased the hell out of her cute blushing face.

By the time that Vic got her pixie cut, they were already dating. The confession wasn’t as much romantic as it was spontaneous.

“Date me.” Maximus just suddenly dropped out of nowhere during an ordinary drive to the coffee shop.

The confession was just so unexpected that it almost passed by Vic’s head. Almost. In a few seconds, her brain stopped and so did the car as her foot slammed on the brakes. Her head turned and faced her, gaping. “What did you just say?”

“Eyes on the road, partner.” Maximus teased. “Did you know that most car accidents happen because the driver is looking elsewhere?”

“Oh, don’t you pull that shit on me.” Vic snarled and Maximus smiled wider because even Vic’s angry face was cute. She didn’t share her same amusement though. She glared harder. “Did you just say what I think you said?”

“Sorry, did I stutter?” Maximus leaned in close, so close that their noses were almost touching and their breaths were warm and mixing, and oh god it was intoxicating for Vic. In a seductively low voice, Maximus whispered, “I said fuck me.”

A delectable shiver ran through Vic’s spine and Maximus’ teeth showed. There’s also the obvious coloring of her cheeks but Vic was adamant on powering through this. “Maybe I’ll think about it when you say what you actually first said.”

“So that’s a yes on fuck?” Maximus grinned devilishly.

Vic’s blush burned to a darker shade as she stammered, “F-Fuck, Max! Just say those goddamned words already!” And in a softer, more shy voice she whispered, “I just… I just want to hear them and know this is real.” And that’s Maximus’s signal to quit messing around.

She schooled her face into one of seriousness as she gazed deeply. No more fucking around. “Date me, Vic.” Before Vic could answer, Maximus’ lips were already on hers. And when she pulled back, she faintly heard the reverent whisper of a “yes” that she pulled from Vic’s lips. Maximus licked her lips with pride. “We’re gonna fucking rule the world together.”

As much as Maximus would have loved to skip to the part where they rule the world, Vic thought it was imperative for them to continue their education and this was non-negotiable. So fast forward to now where they’re in college. At least they share an apartment so she thinks it’s not all that boring. Maximus still doesn’t give a shit about things but Vic does and she makes it a point that Max knows.

“Max, get your lazy ass up already or you’ll miss your defense.” Vic scolded her for the nth time this past ten minutes. “Don’t make me throw water at you because you know I will if you don’t get up in the next thirty seconds.”

“And ruin the bed? Where ever will we sleep then?” Maximus gasped playfully.

“Obviously I’ll be taking the sofa and you’ll be sleeping on the cold hard ground. Twenty seconds.” Vic tapped her foot irritably by the bedside.

“Hey, don’t talk about our floor like that.” Maximus pouted. “Besides, it’s more comfortable than you think. The coolness is perfect for the summer weather.”

“It’s officially winter in two weeks. And no, you’re not getting any extra blankets to touch our impeccable floor.” Vic pushed. “Ten seconds.”

“Vic, it’s eight in the morning. My defense is at nine. There’s no need to rush. Besides, the prof is just as tardy as I am anyways.” Maximus reasoned but Vic was having none of that.

“Five seconds, Max.” She announced tersely and raised a glass of water threateningly.

Maximus immediately shot up at the last second, reached for the glass and downed the whole drink. “There. Now where’s my morning kiss?” She smiled lopsidedly.

“That hardly bears merit for a reward.” Vic scoffed as she took the glass and set it aside on the bedside drawer.

Without warning, Maximus leaned forward and pecked her on the lips. “I’m taking it anyways.” She grinned toothily.

Vic’s already used to Maximus’ impulsive displays of affection but she never did learn how to tame her blushes. “You’re insufferable.” She muttered but not with a small smile.

“That’s so sweet of you to say, thank you.” Maximus replied with a chuckle that ended shortly when she growled lowly, “So where’s my morning makeout session?”

Vic blinked. Her eyes quickly flitted to the clock and then back to her girlfriend, debating. She bit her lower lip in thought as Maximus licked hers in anticipation. Until finally, Vic let out a sigh and leaned forward. “Fuck it. Ten minutes tops.”

Maximus just grinned in victory. “Negotiable, right?”

And sure, life was still boring as hell most of the time and Maximus could still never be bothered to make an effort. But it’s moments like these that make her consider otherwise. Maximus couldn’t care less about anything but Vic worries about everything. Life has been less boring with Vic around and Maximus will do everything within her power to keep this life. Whenever she thinks of Vic, she thinks that maybe she’d like to at least try. Effort has never been her thing but maybe that’s just because she didn’t have a reason worth it before— before Vic. It’s different now and maybe she’s changed as well even if only just by a bit.

Maximus puts in a little more effort nowadays and even more so when Vic rewards her.

The Popular Kid

Castiel walked through the cafeteria, letting the oscillating din of voices turn to white noise, blocking out distractions.  He went to his usual table in the back corner and sat by himself at one end.  At the other were two boys who also had no one else to sit with, so they sat with each other once they had found Castiel to be poor company.  He didn’t mean to be poor company; he just found it difficult to concentrate on other people when he was thinking.

Currently he was thinking about how the light from the skylight hit the window into the kitchen just right around noontime, refracting brilliantly and scattering rainbows around the frame.  It was easy to imagine it as a portal to another world.  A world where magic was real.  Where people rode their own dragons.  Where everyone appreciated adventure and knew how to use cool weapons but rarely actually hurt anyone with them.

It was overcast today, so the rainbows were missing, but the window was still there.  Ms. Potter moved briefly into view as she lugged around a big pot full of instant mashed potatoes.  On days like these, he imagined the woman was experimenting with magical concoctions.  Exotic fruits and spices blended together with soft grains and tender meat—the kind of thing a fairy or something would make.  For all Castiel knew, that was what school issued food tasted like.  He always brought a bagged lunch.  Though based on the way the kid at the end of his table was making a face as he prodded an unidentifiable lump of grey and red matter on his tray, Castiel doubted it.

He’d been at this school for two years, and he’d sat near to this kid and the other one for most of his junior year, but he didn’t know their names.  He knew the names of his teachers—except his study hall teacher—it wasn’t written on his schedule and he never needed to ask her a question, so he never bothered to learn it.  He knew the name of the guy in his art class who was always hogging the modeling clay, which forced Cas to use the pastels.  His name was Benny and he was just using the clay to sneakily make a bong by designing it to look like a Chinese dragon.  The joke would be on him though when he realized how hard it was to smoke out of a clay bong.  He knew Meg’s name because she deliberately called him by the wrong name, which annoyed him.  He knew Gabriel’s name because he was always getting yelled at by teachers.  “Gabriel!  Stop talking!  Gabriel!  Stop passing notes!  Gabriel!  Go to the principal’s office!”  It was hard to forget that one.

Castiel should know more people’s names, and if he was looking at a classmate, he could probably dredge it up from somewhere.  Maybe.  But nobody talked to him, and he didn’t initiate conversation.  That’s what his mother had suggested: just go up to someone and start a conversation; that’s how people make friends.  Castiel wasn’t sure that was how people made friends.

A break in the clouds made a smudge of rainbows around the kitchen window.  There was a half-giant named Rugar in that world.  And an Elven warrior named Feelli’inna’a.  There was the mercenary Dormas and the human wizard Yzireem who may or may not look like that actor on that terrible doctor drama his sister liked to watch.  Yzireem had a horse named Pulu, and once during a dream Yzireem had offered Castiel a ride.  When he’d awoken with a hard on, Castiel had wondered if Yzireem hadn’t been talking about his horse.

The clouds returned and Castiel sighed as thoughts of Yzireem, Pulu, and all the others in the land of Rainbowindow faded away.  He looked down at his ham and cheese sandwich on wheat bread.  He wondered that if he had more exciting lunches if he would be able to offer it in a trade for the mysterious cafeteria food.  Ms. Potter seemed to work on it very hard; he wanted to try it.  He glanced at the boys at the end of his table.  The one kid hadn’t even tried a bite of the grey and red matter.  He’d probably trade it for Castiel’s sandwich.  Castiel opened his mouth, prepared to make contact…

“Hey, Cas.”

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duets at dusk | oneshot

Originally posted by jeonilys

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 3k

themes & genres: shy!jungkook, band!bangtan, college au, fluff, jungkook is a lil bean

extras:  x ]  [ x ]

prequel:  [x]  


Before you could even react, long and slender fingers had gently closed around your wrist, lightly tugging you to a less crowded part of the street.

Dumbfounded, your eyes flicked up to meet a pair of curious ones, and you could only stare up at the dark-haired stranger in incredulity.

When the opportunity to sing a duet with a certain doe-eyed stranger arises, you just couldn’t bring yourself to refuse.

Alternatively, a shy bean has been crushing on you for a while.

It wasn’t uncharacteristic of you to occasionally steer away from the hectic college life and take to the streets, letting your feet take you wherever your heart desired. The thrill that often comes with exploring unfamiliar alleyways and the little nooks and crannies hidden in every town was as addictive as any other drug, and you could walk on forever, eager to constantly remind yourself of how big the world was out there. Eager for any kind of escape from pretty much all of your responsibilities, walking around random and foreign areas soon became somewhat a part of your routine; one that you could hardly live without. You suppose you may have a teeny little bit of wanderlust, but then again it doesn’t really matter, because it makes you feel all light and happy.

Your favorite haunt of the week was Hongdae—a beautiful district that’s widely known for its youthful ambience and underground culture. It was hardly an unusual sight to see aspiring musicians busking on the streets and there was an overflowing abundance of flyers promoting various music festivals decorating the walls. You’ve always been intrigued by the area, you’ve just never actually gotten around to getting to know it better.

And so perhaps it was a fortunate stroke of serendipity that you’ve decided to cross into the neighborhood when you did, strolling along as the sun hung low in the half-lit amber sky, walking your way right into fate’s hands (of course, not that you were complaining).

With an earphone bud in and the other dangling off your shoulder, you had shoved your hands into the pockets of your thin cotton hoodie, humming softly under your breath as you made your way further downtown. You weaved your way gracefully through the throngs of people, and the size of the crowd does not come as a surprise to you. After all, it was nearly dusk, and was that time of the day where everyone were getting off from school or work. While you weren’t typically the type to enjoy having your oxygen supply heavily restricted by the masses of people around you, this was different; you didn’t feel lonely despite actually being alone, and you loved the bustling atmosphere that made you feel more alive than ever.


“I don’t think she’ll make it on time, her teacher’s pretty adamant on dragging her ass to supplementary lessons.”

“Goddamnit I knew we should have gotten Namjoon-hyung to tutor her.”

Snippets of a conversation flit past your ear, but you pay it no attention because there were countless others going on around you, choosing instead to continue humming breathily, music in your ear still playing at full blast.

“What should we do? You can’t sing a duet alone, we need a vocalist.“

“It’s simple, hyung. We get one.”

“Huh? Wait what? Oh you don’t mean–”

“This really wasn’t the way I planned to introduce myself but here goes nothing.”

Before you could even react, long and slender fingers had gently closed around your wrist, lightly tugging you to a less crowded part of the street. 

Dumbfounded, your eyes flicked up to meet a pair of curious ones, and you could only stare up at the dark-haired stranger in incredulity.

He stares back, and a ridiculously out-of-place staring contest commences, during which you come to the conclusion that the stranger was (a lot more than) good-looking.

With slightly ruffled ebony hair falling across his forehead and large doe eyes to boot, he was a sight for sore eyes; and honestly, calling him good-looking was a major understatement.

Said staring contest only comes to a halt after you snap out of your stupor and looked down at the hand still enclosed around your wrist, brows furrowed. Following your line of sight, the (attractive) stranger immediately loosens his grip, hand going slack beside him as he suddenly finds his left shoe incredibly captivating and wouldn’t stop studying the ground. Taken aback by his shift in demeanor, you peer up at him, noting how he hard he’s trying to maintain that ice cool façade, though the tinge of red creeping up his neck and ears ultimately betrayed his otherwise convincing front.

He took a deep breath.

“My friends and I have a gig at that cafe over there in like 10 minutes and we prepared a duet and everything but our vocalist couldn’t make it–”

You were in awe at the speed at which the words tumbled out from his mouth, and you briefly wonder if he was any good at rapping. Cutting him off with a soft tinkling of your laughter, you smiled up at him with a minute tilt of your head, and he almost melts right there and then.

“I could sing the duet with you, if you don’t mind.”

Relief broke out across his features and he beamed back, eyes crinkled and lips stretched into a smile that strangely reminded you of a bunny.

“Are you serious? That’d be amazing.”

Upon a nod of affirmation from you, he grinned even wider than before (if that was possible), before shyly gesturing for you to follow him as he jogged back to his friends, who were leaning against the brick walls and awaiting his return.


“Hey Y/N, thanks so much for offering to help, we worked hard to get this gig so we really do appreciate it.”

The voice came from a certain tall and broad-shouldered brunette, whom you swear looked exactly like a prince who just stepped right out from some fairytale. You belatedly realize that he was the one and only Kim Seokjin, or more commonly known as the Car Door Guy (he was just getting out of his car when some of the freshmen thought he looked absolutely swoon-worthy and proceeded to upload his photo onto the campus forums, which soon went viral on the Internet), a senior whom just recently graduated from the very university you were attending—the Seoul Institute of the Arts.

Then you gasp (silently, of course), because holy shit Kim Seokjin knows my name?

“Well duh I know your name because this guy never stops—”

(You guess you weren’t as silent as you thought.)

“Omigod hyuuuuuuuuuuung—” A look of mortification crossed over the attractive stranger’s face, and his eyes darted wildly between you and Kim Seokjin, glinting with slight uncertainty.

“Shush boy, I know what I’m doing, who’s the oldest here—”

“Wow I bet it sure is peachy being as old as you are—”

“Well of course it is—”

As the two boys continue bickering over who knows what, the last boy lethargically pushed himself off of the wall he was comfortably leaning against and shrugged.

“They’re always like this, it’s pretty stupid but just leave them, it’s good entertainment every once in a while. I’m Yoongi by the way, I’m on the keyboard. We have one more doofus in our band, but Taehyung’s always late so let’s just head in first,” The boy in question, Yoongi, drawled over his shoulder as he started to make his way into the cafe, steps sluggish as if he just woke up from a nap. You think you’ve seen him somewhere before, but since you couldn’t really put your finger on it, you simply followed him with a shrug of your own, peering sporadically behind you as you did so. Much to your amusement, the two boys had gathered up their instruments and were trailing behind you, still squabbling.


The overpowering aroma of coffee hit you square in the face the moment the doors opened, and you paused to drink in your surroundings.

Strings of fairy lights and tiny trinkets adorned the spacious area, and you snorted at the witty puns framed up on the walls. The mahogany panels lining the floor and the floor-length windows, accompanied by the obvious lack of decorative furniture pointed to a cross between a vintage and a minimalistic theme, and frankly with how aesthetically pleasing the place was, you could see why it was so popular. Light chatter resounded within the four walls, and a quick glance at how majority of the seats were already occupied told you how frequented this place was.

“I’m not late this time!” A flurry of motions almost gave you whiplash and the center of it all seems to be the boy with light ketchup-colored hair who had just barged into the cafe. With bronze skin that almost shone under the lights and a cute boxy smile, he was the physical embodiment of sunshine itself, and his presence alone was enough to light up the place. You squinted at him, because oddly enough, the boy seemed familiar to you too.

Sunshine boy paused next to you and shot you a smile, “You must be Y/N, I’m Taehyung, let’s have a good time on stage yeah?”

You could barely respond back with a smile of your own before he was off again, this time heading towards the rest of his bandmates who were busy setting up the small stage, playfully whining about how it wasn’t his fault he got lost and ended up at a random field full of the prettiest flowers he has ever seen (where at least 20 mins of photo-taking was in accordance).

Shaking your head and biting back a grin, you treaded after him, joining the four guys in discussing the songs you would be performing with them. Fortunately they didn’t pose much difficulty as they were the typical duets you were used to singing and arranging for your college assignments, and you exhaled, slowly letting out a breath you weren’t aware you had been holding.  

“Come on Y/N, we’re up.”


Sure, you were hella nervous at the start, and you supposed it showed on your face, because Seokjin was sending you reassuring  looks while taking his guitar on a couple of experimental test-runs, and you assumed that the corners of Yoongi’s lips subtly lifting up was meant to be encouragement. The Hot Stranger (it was at this point that you’ve made the terrible realization that you still didn’t have an inkling of his name, and could only resort to branding him as The Hot Stranger in your head) gave you a gentle pat on your shoulder as he picked up his bass guitar, but not before he adjusted your microphone stand to match your height. The simple gesture made your insides do a double flip (one of which was because you were about to sing in front of a relatively large audience) and you shot him what you hoped was a hesitant smile and not a grimace.

Taehyung’s steady drum beat was the cue, and the mingling of the different musical instruments produced a harmony that could only be described as mellifluous; one that you were honored to be in the midst of.

As you clutched the microphone with utmost care, you started off the first song; a slow ballad full of longing (you recognized it to be IU’s Ending Scene), voice hardly above a whisper yet still low and sweet.

You were once again reminded of why you had gone against all odds and worked your butt off in order to enroll into the Seoul Institute of Fine Arts as an Applied Music major despite your parents’ initial objections—you loved everything about music. You loved how singing strips you of everything else and leaves you with nothing but raw emotion, you loved how the beat of the music pulses through your veins and ignites a sudden urge for you to dance along, and you loved how every note that leaves your lungs has your heart feeling all warm and fuzzy.

You loved how much fun you were having, especially with The Hot Stranger’s (you really had to find out his name) amazing voice, which was nothing short of euphonious. His breathy intonation was a mere introduction to his honeyed vocals (sung with his very much developed middle register, you noted for your own reference) and he climbed the high notes with the ease of a professional who has done this countless times. His voice was, to put it simply, a gift from the heavens.

Undoubtedly, everyone else in the audience shared the same sentiment, conversations halting and meals being put on hold to gaze in wonder at the owner of the dulcet voice (you were no exception), all eyes captivated by the performance (and also his charm, that boy sure has great stage presence).
The polyphony created with the merger of your two voices was, for lack of a better word, pure bliss. He was blinding, all twinkly eyed, and you had to will yourself not to look away (it really wasn’t easy). And so, you held his gaze and he held yours, and in that moment, nothing else mattered and the world was yours, as well as his.

There it was again, you felt the unfamiliar butterflies and the quickening heart rate, a feeling you were unused to before meeting the stranger in question by happenstance earlier today. Regrettably (or maybe not), you couldn’t dwell on your newly surfaced feelings any longer as the ballad draws to a close, and the next number; a playful and lively piece, begins.


“Holy shit Y/N, dang girl, you can sing,” The words left Taehyung before you’d even gotten off the stage, and you turned to meet his widened eyes, full of awe and shadowed with the tiniest bit of curiosity.

Trying your best not to openly show signs of being flustered at the unexpected compliment, you chuckled bashfully and murmured a sincere thanks. You couldn’t help it, you had lived your entire life having everyone around you tell you that the pursuit of music was a dead end street instead of actually commenting on your voice.

“Uh–” The Hot Stranger had, somehow or another, ducked his way into your line of sight, and was fidgeting uncomfortably, looking as if he has a million things he wanted to say.

“Y/N you did really well, consider yourself a superstar, because you’ve just earned yourself a fan.” Seokjin cut in as the whole lot of you slowly moved out to the alley behind the cafe, eyes holding on to a hint of playfulness, yet you found it absolutely hilarious at how much he sounds exactly like a proud father.
“Uh–” The stranger was still trying to get a word in, and you would have reached out to him if not for Seokjin’s and Taehyung’s tall frames enveloping your tiny stature.

“Yeah Seokjin-hyung’s right, I officially approve.” Yoongi comes up from behind, wry smile lingering on his face before a knowing look took over and he dragged Seokjin and Taehyung (who reluctantly complied) both away by the arm.

Now you were more than vaguely confused. Brows knitted together, you called weakly after them, “Approve of what?”

It goes unanswered and alas, the stranger stood before you, alone. You giggled softly to yourself when you notice he wasn’t even trying to put up that cool guy image anymore, unguarded eyes meeting your own.

“You probably didn’t notice, but I’m kinda in your Harmony and Counterpoint class, um, I’m the guy who always hoards snacks at the back of the class?”

You stifle a laugh, “I was always wondering why the room always smells like food, not that I have anything against that.”

He seems to relax a little bit at that, tension slowly leaving his shoulders, a lazy grin slowly materializing on his handsome features.

“I’ve heard your singing once before, at the freshmen introductory festival? I didn’t know it was even possible but I instantly fell in love with your voice—” His huge eyes grew larger than they already were when his own words finally sunk in and he stopped himself mid-sentence.

You weren’t any better yourself, heat quickly crawling up your neck and you were sure you could pretty much blend in with the red brick walls behind you.

He took one look at how red you were and couldn’t stop his face from exploding with the combination of both embarrassment and joy, and it took him all he had to continue speaking.

“And I really had fun with you on stage, so would you maybe like to go out sometime? We could sing together again the way we did today.” He ended with a hopeful lilt of his voice, eyes big and anxious.

You tilted your head again, the cutest smile gracing your lips as you locked eyes with him, and he almost dies from how irresistibly adorable you were being.

“I didn’t quite get your name.”

He blinked once. Twice. Three times now.

“Oh fuck, I never did introduce myself did I? Goddamnit I had one job.”

It was clearly meant to be a whisper, yet you could hear it clear as day, and you had to stop yourself from doubling over in laughter.

By this time, the sun was halfway through its descent, the clear skies turning the prettiest shades of orange and red, hues mixing together to make for a tumblr-worthy sight. The remainders of sunlight highlighted the tip of the stranger’s nose and his chiseled jaw, his strong shoulders further accentuated by the shadows present in the gradually dimming back alley of the cafe, and he looked so enchanting to the point where it should be illegal. A flash of that bunny smile and you knew you were a goner.

“Apologies for the late introduction, I’m Jeon Jungkook, and I’ve been crushing on you for a while now. Would you like to go on a date with me?”

Your heart was palpitating so fast it felt like you were going to have difficulties breathing, but that glimmer in his eye was all you needed.

“I’m Y/N, and yes, I would love to go on a date with you.”


semi-inspired by the liar and his lover! it was originally meant to just be a drabble but somehow i couldn’t stop, and this is coming from someone who usually has difficulty reaching word counts beyond 1.5k. i don’t plan for this to have a sequel (lemme know if you wanna see one!) but do keep a lookout for some extras that i’ll be posting soon (hint: a prequel and some angst;)


A/N: lmao i wrote something bc school has started and im inactive af and i dont want to lose my audience enjoy. also idk what to title this it’s so ??? drabblish 

Summary: dan sees a picture of phil he had no intention of seeing and it ruins his life in a positive way. also punk/pastel trope bc im dead inside. this isn’t meant to be a true testimony to my writing capabilities in case you realize how sloppy it is 

Words:  1722

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ice-whisper  asked:

Coldwave stripper AU

1 - Mick is so goddamn hot that half the time he just takes off his shirt and smirks at people and they pay him. He’s got a very appealing confidence thing going that they don’t even mind that he refuses to shimmy on a stage, though he does do lapdances.

2 - Len saves up for months before getting a lapdance for his twentieth birthday. Not because he couldn’t get the money, but because he wanted to be sure all the money he was giving Mick was legit in case someone investigated Mick.

3 - Len asks Mick if he is real at least four times during this time.

4 - Mick thinks Len is adorable and asks him, teasingly, if he wants a job. This is funny because Len is covered from neck-to-wrist-to-ankle. Len says “no it’s okay I’m cool with what I have” which somehow turns into a conversation about theft.

5 - Mick makes a joke that if Len is as good a thief as he says he is, he could make enough money to be Mick’s sugar daddy. Mick does not realize he is unleashing a crime spree of epic proportions across Central for the next three years, during which they continue to see each other at the club and sometimes outside of it for movies and dinner and such, though they never call it ‘dating’.

6 - After about three years, Len hands Mick his bank account(s) statements and says “be mine forever” and Mick replies “this is the worst proposal ever but sure and holy crap did you rob a bank or something?” and Len says “seventeen banks, thirteen jewelry stores and just don’t ask about the art gallery count”

7 - they live happily ever after. Mick keeps working sometimes because he likes it, but they totally buy a private island because Len for some reason assumed that rich people have private islands and worried himself into thinking he had to buy an island for Mick to be willing to stay with him.

8 - Mick would’ve married him after the third date. Len is just a drama queen.

Hitched (7/11)

a Captain Swan AU fan fiction

Summary:  After a series of events leave her life in pieces, Emma Swan finds herself hitchhiking out of Maine, her wallet empty and her heart broken. The best she hopes for is a driver who isn’t a pervert and takes her far away from the painful memories of Storeybrooke. But when she finds a ride with a quiet truck driver named Jones, Emma discovers that maybe a trustworthy friend is all she needs.

Rating: M or MA; some profanity and sex scenes.

Cover art: created by the absolutely fabulous @thesschesthair!!

Links: ff.net // ao3 // ch. 1 //  ch. 2 // ch. 3 // ch. 4 // ch. 5 // ch. 6 // ch. 8 // ch. 9 // ch. 10 // epilogue

(also @teamhook, @like-waves-on-the-beach, @lenfaz, @followbatb, @stardusted-nymph@optomisticgirl, @xpumpkindumplingx​, and @spartanguard, thank you thank you thank you for reading and requesting tags!)



The name of the bar blared cheerfully from a green marquee over the front doorway.  Despite the cold, the door was thrown open, emitting a generous belch of country music and beer-fueled revelry from inside. Gaudy poinsettia decorations blinked from the front windows, a tinsel-clogged wreath dangling from the door handle.

“The Four-Leaf Clover, huh?” Emma said as they trudged toward it, their boots crunching in the gravel of the parking lot, cars clumped tightly together at the far end. “Sounds like a fun place.”

“Hmm,” was Jones’ only response.

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Think We Should Have Told Him First?


Was Nino dating two superheros? The answer surprisingly seemed to be yes!  Not that he was telling anyone about it.  Oh no!

The things started off slowly at first, get rescued by Chat Noir and a little flirty banter.  Be scolded by Ladybug for being too close to a battle and her being visibly upset even as he promises to be more careful.  Then there were the so called happenstance visits where Chat Noir would claim he was just in the area, or Ladybug wanted to check on the victims of the latest attack.

Nino wasn’t a complete fool, though he questioned if he was making too much of the superhero visits and their interest in what he was doing or thinking or feeling.  When the flowers and chocolates started to be given, he realized he wasn’t deluding himself. The first kiss he had with Ladybug was such a soft and quick peck on the lips it barely counted, but the one Chat Noir gave him a few days later left no questions!

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Move-in Day

A/N: SMTM feels are starting to get to me, so I decided to release them with this fic ;-;

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Reader x Junoflo

Summary: It’s move-in day of your freshman year at the University of California in San Diego (UCSD), and you meet this guy in his junior year, junoflo, along the way.

Word Count: 1371

“Y/N, let’s go. You know traffic starts getting heavy around this time.” Your mom exclaims to you as she rushes to the moving truck with the last box of decorations.

“Ma, relax. UCSD is only an hour away… plus, none of my friends are getting there until tomorrow.” You say to your mom as you roll your suitcase to your car.

“Well… last time I checked your friends didn’t rent this moving truck for tomorrow.”

“Nor did they offer to help you move in. So I guess you’re stuck with us ‘dusty old people’” Your dad chimes in from the moving truck, trying to lighten the mood.

 Ever since you found out you got into UCSD, it was like heaven on earth. Especially since you got in with all your fave peoples. You’ve been looking at colleges ever since freshman year in highschool, and now it’s your time to be a freshie in college. One of your favorite parts about UCSD is their impressive music program. Not to mention their breathtaking campus.

 Once you stepped on campus during your sophomore year spring break, you knew this was the school for you. During this time you were there to visit your older brother, along with checking out the campus. Your brother was in his senior year, so he didn’t have much time left until graduation. Despite his limited time left in college, he would always give you the ‘super swaggie deluxe tour’ whenever you guys visited. He would never fail to reveal new parts of campus to you each time you two would hangout. Your favorite part was visiting the state of the art music studio they provided to their music majors. Even though your brother won’t be with you during your college years, you’ll always remember all the dope places he showed you on campus.

“This is so exciting, I wonder who your roomie is~” Your mom squeals as she locks the door.

“Yea, what if you get one of those crazy ass roommates those YouTube kids always make storytimes about?” Your dad says as he starts the truck, and as your mom hops in the car with you.

“Please, sir…Get out” You say to your dad rolling up the window.

“Like the movie, cau-” Your dad says, but you barely hear him cause your mom’s voice distracts you as she asks about ‘vlogging your adventurous college years’.

“Why?” You ask your mom with the driest tone ever, looking her a dead ass in her eyes.

  Your mom gets a little pissed and scolds you about how ‘you better not let that damn camera sit in your suitcase’ when she spent a nice amount of dollars on it. It’s been about 30 minutes into the ride, but you still feel like you’re forever away from your new home for the next 4 years.

“I guess you’re right. We should have left earlier.” You say to your mom in a lighthearted defeated tone.

“I’m always right….” Your mom looks at you trying to hold a stern face, before you both start to crack up.

 After about 45 minutes of loud ass music and a karaoke session, car edition with your mom, you make it to UCSD. It’s around noon, and it is packed. The exciting part is soon to come, but now the hard part is trying to find a parking spot.

 It’s been another 20 minutes, and you’ve finally found a parking spot. You and your parents go to check in and get your key, then head up to your room with a few boxes. Once you get to your room, it is empty. But you’re happy because you have a great view!

“Now, I’m just gonna set up my Bluetooth, and we can start this little move in party!” You exclaim to your parents. With a few more hours of unloading and unpacking, you and your parents start to get tired. But just as you plop on your bed, you hear a little knock on your door along with a female’s voice saying ‘hello’ accompanied by a little giggle.

“Hey, are you Monica?” You ask the girl at the door half panting with a smile on your face.

“Yea, I’m assuming you’re Y/N. And I’m also assuming that you just finished packing.” She says with a quick chuckle.

 You nod as a sign of confirmation, then you open up the door wider to be greeted by her parents. Once they bring in her boxes and set them down, everyone starts to introduce themselves. After an hour and a half of unpacking, both of your parents leave; allowing you and Monica some time to get to know each other.

“You’re from Chicago… fr!?! I couldn’t tell cause you seem like a Bay Area baby.” You say following a series of laughter from both of you. As you look at your phone, you realize it’s only 5:43pm. It’s still early.

“Are you cool with hanging out tonight, or do you already have plans?”

“Actually, I’m meeting up with some friends at 7, but didn’t you say your friends aren’t coming until tomorrow?”


“Come hang with us. My people are pretty chill, and I think we’re pretty low key.” She says inviting you out with her.

 After about an hour of getting ready, you both head out to a pub near campus. You both arrive to the pub after a 15 minute uber ride. The little pub is well known for their dark and warm decor, along with a set tone of a jazz and r&b mix. Monica sees her friends sitting at circular coach with their drinks. Once you two reach the table, a certain guy catches your eye.

 Despite the dark lighting, you can see him perfectly. He’s wearing a plain white shirt, gold chain, and a pair of studs in his ears. His black hair is faded on the sides, styled to show off the volume and slight curls he has in his head. As he looks up, you both make slight eye contact before he smirks at you, making you quickly glance away.
To your defense. You’ve never been one to flirt with guys… neither have you had your first boyfriend.

“Y/N, these are my friends…”, and she starts to name all of the people sitting at the table. Once she gets to this guy, you find out his name is Sam.

“You can call me Juno.” He suggests in his smooth deep voice.

“None of us call him that, it’s just his rapper name” Chimes in one of Monica’s friends whose name is Tyler.

 As you start to get a little more comfortable with Monica’s crew, you start to see that they are pretty chill people. Most of the conversations are just about them catching up or getting to know you, but occasionally they would break off into little convos. Since you are sitting by Juno, he seemes to initiate a lot of conversations with you.

“Ahh so you’re a business major. You must like being miss boss lady, right? Aye, but there’s nothing wrong with wanting to have a little control.” Juno says in a teasing tone.

“Says the man who changed his major twice. Aye, but there’s nothing wrong with following your dreams.” You respond to him in an equally teasing tone.

The more you talk to this man, the more you seem to become attracted to him. After you exchange numbers, Sam says to you…

“You know… I noticed you looking at me when you first came in, but that would make me a hypocrite if I didn’t admit that I was watching you ever since you walked in this pub.” He confesses to you accompanied by a quick smirk and laugh. “But… I would like to get to know you more. How about a lunch date tomorrow?”

“I think I’ll like that…” You slightly smirk at him while dying on the inside.

“Think?!” He says to you feigning an offended look.

“I don’t know Mr.Junoflo, I guess we’ll have to find out tomorrow.” You say to him, as you say your farewell. Then go follow Monica and the others out of the pub to go home.

A/N: Hehhehehe… I’m dying now ;-;, but I had fun writing this. Let me know if this should be a series ( don’t worry I’ll add smut ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)~.  And shoutout to all the new children that follow me. Thx people :3)

Jake Virtanen #5

Requested by Anon:  Love your stories!! Can you please do a Jake V one where you visit your friend in Abby who happens to work at the same rink as Jakes brother. And you kick it off with Jake on the ice. Thanks b!

*Hiii!! Thank you so so much! This isn’t exactly like your request but I hope you like this just the same. Enjoy!:)*

Word count: 946

Originally posted by jakieboo

The gold streaks on his hair shone like a halo on top of his holy head. Except this is Jake Virtanen and you know he’s not as holy as he seems. Except maybe he’s changed seeing that you haven’t seen him post-NHL draft.

You’ve always spent a couple of days during the summer with family in Abbotsford up until a few years ago, when college took over your life and you forgot that you had people in Abby that you care about. Jake, once upon a time was one of those people but that’s a time forgotten. Now, he’s just this NHL player who you used to watch twirling on ice with his brother when they’re both in town during the off-season.

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