i wish i could go back in time and hand this to twelve year old me

hermione still flinches when ron’s hands brush her neck and she doesn’t understand why she does, because the cold, metal sting and everything that happened later, is painfully different from his soft palms. she stops wearing perfume, and starts casting protection charms.

remus despises his nature so much that the scars on his body are from his own hands. he knows what the taste of wolfsbane is when it doesn’t quite work; bitter and unmistakably sweet—it’s sirius’s blood when he goes too far.

ginny’s hands shake uncontrollably when she writes for hours at a time. the words will start to swim across the page and mix and scramble into anagrams. hi, i’m tom. what’s your name? hi, i’m tom. what’s your name? hi, i’m tom. what’s your na—

pansy knows what it’s like to cast unforgivables on first years. she learns how to enunciate the words with refined perfection, and learns how to want to hurt them. she throws up in the abandoned washroom after every lesson, and finds comfort in the absent arms of moaning myrtle.

ron faints everytime he apparates. he’ll wake up in hermione’s lap; his hair wet against his forehead, and his arms heavy with sweat. he always reaches for his shoulder and visibly relaxes when blood doesn’t rub off his fingers. he doesn’t know how to control his anger either, and feels the shame creep into his skin whenever hermione looks at his chest. he knows that she’s looking for the locket because he wishes that was what he could lay his blame on.

tom falls in love at the age of twelve—watched glimmering jewels glide down his own hand and pool at the bland tiles in the orphanage; started fires just to keep things lively. he collects followers like sheep in a mindless herd and finds that the acclaimed intricacies of a human brain is much more dull than he had imagined. he holds fear like a baby would with a blanket and spends nights wishing he had more time. he dies knowing he never had enough.

draco knows what it’s like to have your mind violated and out bare for all the world to see. he remembers severus saying that veritaserum has no taste, and discovers that he was wrong. the so called non dimensional potion is much too similar to the taste of the silent pleas he shouted when he watched snatchers salivate at the sight of his mother, or the copper droplets of red that sprinkled the surface of his cracked lips when he watched children slaughtered in the blink of an eye.

sirius has spent his entire childhood without the warmth of a mother’s embrace or the reassuring words of a father. he tells himself he’s okay with it—that he would rather have no family than one that wished his friends dead. he doesn’t know what to think when he has neither family or friends alive—the only embrace he will ever feel again is the one that lurks behind bars in his azkaban cell.

luna stops searching for wrackspurts, and instead, starts organizing her fathers office. she should be relieved when people stop calling her loony lovegood but all she feels is the absence of her imagination. war, it seemed, was not an adventure, but an old friend that came at inconvenient times in history.

harry doesn’t want to start a family because every father he has ever had has been hurt at his own expense. ginny rocks his body against her chest and brushes the tears away from his eyes as soon as they fall. she tells him that he’ll learn how to be a father—that it will come as naturally as magic had. the sharp pain that lodges inside of him whenever albus retreats back into his room is reflected so blatantly on ginny’s face. he wishes that he were a blind man so that he never had to see his mistakes out in the open, and rubs at his fading scar.

despite the years that had passed, it seemed that all was not well.

Closet Softie

Or, How Bucky Barnes Nearly Ruined His Tough-Guy Rep

(On AO3)

The trail mix was gone. 

The nice, expensive trail mix, with twelve kinds of nuts and the big sunflower seeds and dried fruits, the kind Tony only rarely left sitting on the common floors for everyone to get at, was gone. 

Clint had been looking forward to that stuff all morning

All the way through a hellish morning “jog” with Steve, all through Nat handing him his ass on the training mats, all through firing the same batch of misweighted arrows over and over so Tony could take scans and fix the design, he’d been thinking, when this is done I get to go upstairs and hang out on the couch and watch Dog Cops and eat the good trail mix, guilt-free. 

And it was gone.

Clint was gonna shoot somebody.

Just as soon as he figured out who’d taken the trail mix.

kingofmemes posted:

yesterday i saw a sad duck in the park who kept getting picked on by the other ducks so today i brought some trail mix and we had a nice lunch together. also i think he might be the duck who pooped on sam last week. if so, he is officially my new best friend. 

Posted at 3:29 PM, 24379 notes

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Archie Andrews imagine request for anon

You remembered snippets.

You could remember arriving to the party with Archie at your side and you remembered the first shot of that cheap spiced rum that Reggie had at the makeshift bar in his parent’s basement – but besides that all you had were snippets.

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shades of wrong (m)

Summary: In which you’re sure you’ll hate Park Jimin with every fiber of your being for the rest of your existence, even after he is assigned your tutor for History of Magic.
Pairing: Jimin | Reader
Genre: Fluff/Smut; Harry Potter AU 
Word Count: 17,321
Author’s Note: This got insanely long, and I apologize but also not really. Inspired by @jeonbegins + her really dope HP Slytherin Jimin AU edit. I also had a little conversation with @minsvga about this and she helped me figured out the basic idea for what this story has become; and @chokemejimin has asked to be tagged in my HP work so here you go my dear!!!


No matter how hard you try, it seems as if you are always bested by Park Jimin in every aspect of life: from Quidditch to school to class popularity.

And you absolutely despise him for it.

Granted, it’s probably because he’s always simply excelled in everything while you could only manage the minimum requirement for things outside of the sport you’ve grown to be so passionate about—but that’s only deepened your dislike for the boy. It’s been like this since the pair of you were children, a rivalry already planted between you even before you knew what the term meant. Truthfully, it was pretty much written in the stars that you would develop some deep-rooted grudge against Jimin, for he was organized into Slytherin while you were put in the fiery red and gold of Gryffindor.

Beyond the clashing Houses that have officially formed your backgrounds, it doesn’t help that the boy has seemed to uphold a particular interest in doing whatever he could to see you fidget or watch you squirm or just catch you at your worst moments—although you humor yourself on the idea that these unfortunate incidents occur to you because of Park Jimin’s constant hovering. It’s a habit that’s grown since the first week of your admission into Hogwarts, in which your big mouth scored you your first detention with the infamous Professor Snape.

It’s a moment that marks the beginning of an unspoken battle between the pair of you—in which you would constantly attempt to prove yourself better than Park Jimin and Park Jimin doing everything he could to make sure you could never have that victory. During the first two years of school, this would mean beating you on every exam, knowing the answers to every question and teasing you for not knowing. Professors putting Jimin on a pedestal, marking him up as the ‘ideal student’ and unknowingly intensifying the dagger of hatred you wished to plunge deeper and deeper into his chest.

When you are twelve, you are told that there is certainly no way for you to truly despise of something (or someone)—for you are young and naive and not entirely capable to understand what it means to hate something with every fiber of your being.

But they’re wrong.

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Ship: Captain!Jungkook | Soldier!Reader
Description: Mulan!AU | War is Hell, but it’s what you had to do to take your brother’s place. Of course, between the days of Hell are little slices of Heaven you’d call your Captain, Jeon Jungkook.
Warning: Dom!Kook, Character Death, Gore, Angst, Choking, Intercourse, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Punishment, Oral, Hair Pulling, Public Nudism 
Word Count: 19,554
A/N: This is the longest thing I ever fucking wrote but it was so worth it. Mulan is one of my favorite movies of all time, and there were some such iconic scenes that I found so great I had to include them here as well, because I love simply describing the most heart-leaping scenes in my own words.

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Sansa, Smart

So. Sansa. I hear some people think she’s not very clever. This is a view shared by several characters in the books.

But there’s no reason the readership should share those views. Sansa is a very clever individual who makes increasingly good use of several skills she started the series with, and develops greatly as an observer and an actor over the course of the story.

Putting everything under a cut, for reasons of four books of brainpower.

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itspikakiki  asked:

I also have this little strange hc that Gabe taught Jesse to knit, and he just knits scarves (like only scarves bc he loves them, obviously bc serape), and Hanzo has this old one that Jesse made for him when they first met and he takes it on missions and shit and has kept it forever, and even when Jesse offers to make him a new one he says "this one is fine" and FLUFF

“You can knit,” Hanzo said in surprise the first time Jesse pulled out a ball of yarn and his needles.

“Yeah?” Jesse sounded confused as he set to his task, hands flickering away on the needles. Hanzo watched silently for a moment, entranced by the soothing clicking sounds and the inexplicable fabric being produced.

“I – I just did not expect this of you,” Hanzo admitted, settling back and wishing he’d brought something to do himself. They were going to be stuck in this hideout for at least twelve hours until their pickup could extract them, and there were only so many times he could clean Stormbow.

Twelve hours later, Hanzo had cleaned Stormbow at least seven times, meditated for at least four hours, and slept as much as he could. Jesse, on the other hand, had produced exactly one scarf, striped in blue and yellow, and just before they were due to leave, he tied it off and handed it to Hanzo.

“Here, they’re your colours,” he said in an offhand way, and Hanzo melted a little inside.

“I can make you a new one, y’know,” Jesse offered as they huddled together. They were stuck in King’s Row during New Year, once again holed up in a hideout waiting for a pickup that was due in a few hours, and it was so cold Hanzo had barely hesitated before taking up Jesse’s offer to huddle together under his serape. Hanzo’s scarf – now battered, coming apart at the seams, and with a few holes in it – was warm around his neck, but he had definitely made poor attire choices elsewhere before this particular mission.

“This one is fine,” Hanzo said, touching the edges of it. He’d seen Jesse knit a dozen more in the past two years, not to mention at least three serapes in various colours – he refused to go out on missions with the man when he was wearing the one patterned like the goddamned American flag – and he had to admit that Jesse’s skill had increased markedly. But still. This one was perfect. The wool was soft and warm, not itchy at all after so many years of frequent use, and just the thought that Jesse had made it for him, in his colours specifically, always warmed him a little inside.

“If you insist,” Jesse said, sounding amused. He reached out to rub the edges, wincing a little at the holes and loose ends. “This was the first complete one I ever made. Gabe taught me how to knit, y’know.“

“He did?” Hanzo was surprised. From everything he’d heard about the former Blackwatch Commander, he was as tough as nails, and Hanzo couldn’t imagine him teaching Jesse how to knit. Perhaps they’d been in a similar situation to their current one – stuck waiting for a pickup, nothing to do, and teaching Jesse to knit had passed the time. Maybe it had even shut him up for a while.

Hanzo sighed softly and leaned closer, his hand brushing against Jesse’s under the serape. They both froze for an instant before carefully letting their fingers brush again, and Hanzo held his breath.

“Why did you make it for me?” he asked. He’d been wondering that for years. Most of the rest of the team now sported Jesse-made scarves, but he’d been the first. He’d only known Jesse for a few weeks at that stage, and he still remembered how happy it had made him to get such a unique and heartfelt gift. They had been good friends for years now, although Hanzo still hoped that they would one day be more.

Jesse was silent, and Hanzo glanced over at him to see him blushing slightly in the faint light. “I wanted you to feel welcome,” he said, but it didn’t seem like that was all.


“And I thought you were cute,” Jesse admitted.

Hanzo turned his face into Jesse’s shoulder and smiled, and beneath the serape their hands slid together in a warm grip.

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Fuck Me - Dean

@saxxxology is such a fucking enabler. Happy birthday, bitch. Enjoy your series. This chapter’s for me and my fellow Dean whores.

Fun fact: both boys are their season 3 ages.

Another fun fact: I fucking hate titles so much.  All the credit to Saxxy for helping me pick a title.

Fandom: Supernatural & Harry Potter
Pairing: DADA Teacher!Dean x Student!Reader
Words: 3,671
Summary: A seventh year Hufflepuff finally decides to confess to her crush. He just happens to be her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral (male and female receiving), a teacher and student fucking (please don’t actually fuck your teachers/students, guys. Let me have my problematic kink, but don’t actually do it)
Other Parts: Sam - Dickchat

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My Best Friend’s Wedding Part Five

Originally posted by stuckybarnesrogers

PART FOUR: http://imaginingbucky.tumblr.com/post/154522794564/my-best-friends-wedding-part-four 

You were twelve years old when you got your first kiss. All of your friends had gotten kissed already making you the last one in the group who hadn’t. It stressed you out a lot more than it should’ve at your age. You wanted your first kiss to be special and magical like it was written about in all those sappy teen magazines. 

Since your first kiss, you had gotten kissed more and by different types of guys. There were the typical sweet kisses, the sloppy ones that made you feel nauseous just thinking about it and countless others. 

Bucky’s kiss was….. different. His lips were soft and the kiss itself was passionate without being sloppy. You were surprised at how much you enjoyed it. It didn’t seem forced or awkward. It was like the two of you had kissed thousands of times before. 

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His Remedy - [BTS] Jungkook!Au

[A/N] My friend asked me what song comes into mind when I think of Jeon Jungkook, and truthfully? I couldn’t think of a better song than Lana Del Rey’s “Young & Beautiful”

Father told you to hide behind the closet and you did as told, without much question. You were just twelve but you understood everything. With as much power as your father had, it was only natural that he was taken, the way he did.  

Even though eleven years had passed, the memory stays vivid in your mind. Squeezing your eyes hard, breathing heavily will never make it better. Your hands tremble as you reach your mug of lukewarm water, sipping nervously. Unfiltered thoughts rushed out your tongue but unsaid, as you stood up, holding the edges of the desk, as you walked. Your knees almost give way until you caught yourself. You stare at that leather chair your father sat on, your grandfather sat on, your great grandfather sat on. That leather chair is where wretched plans were made. It had your father’s stained blood on them when he was shot.

They try to take the ‘throne’ away, not knowing that the heir is armed and ready.

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anonymous asked:

Hi! Have you done anything on Sally Hemings? If so, could you possibly link me? If not, do you have any information about her? I know so little about her and wish I knew more

Here you go, I wrote you a 2231 word essay on Sally Hemings. All sources come from Jefferson and Hamilton: The Rivalry That Forged a Nation and Thomas Jefferson: Art and Power. 

          1735, a man named Hemings, the white English captain of a trading ship, fathered a daughter with a “full-blooded African” woman. The African woman’s child was named Elizabeth. The mother and daughter ended up as slaves of the Eppes family- the Eppes family from which John Wayles (Thomas Jefferson’s father in law) would marry his first wife, Martha. 1746- the year Wayles married Martha Eppes- Elizabeth Hemings, then about eleven years old, moved to the Wayles property. 1761, Elizabeth was taken by John Wayles into concubine and she bore five children to him, Robert Hemings, James Hemings, Thenia Hemings, Critta Hemings an Peter Hemings. In 1773, she gave birth to a sixth child: Sarah “Sally” Hemings.

             Thomas Jefferson married Martha Wayles Skelton on New Year’s Day 1772. Martha, was a daughter of John Wayles. Through his marriage ,Jefferson acquired more slaves, later receiving Elizabeth Hemings, whose daughter, Sally, who would be born months later- was a half-sister of Martha Jefferson, after Wayles’s death. Martha Jefferson chose to keep the Hemings family together after her father’s death by bringing them onto her land. Jefferson payed a midwife to deliver Elizabeth’s son John. Nearly noon on Friday, September 6, 1782 Martha Jefferson died. Her house servants- including Elizabeth Hemings, were among those with Martha as she lay dying. In her last pledges to her husband, she told him to never marry again- Sally Hemings who was witness to this was not quite ten years old yet. Among one of the last things she did, Martha handed Sally a tiny silver servant bell as a gift.

           1784, when Thomas Jefferson accepted a position as ambassador of France, he brought with him his eldest daughter, Martha “Patsy” Jefferson, and James Hemings- son of Elizabeth Hemings and brother of Sally Hemings. Jefferson had intentions to train James to be a cook of French food. June 26th, 1787, Jefferson was able to get his daughter, Mary “Polly” Jefferson whom he’d left in the company of family along with his now deceased younger daughter Lucy Elizabeth Jefferson over to France to join him and Patsy in attempt to recreate his family. Polly arrived in London and was handed into the care of Abigail Adams, with the youngest Jefferson was Sally Hemings. “The old nurse whom you expected to have attended her was sick and unable to come, Abigail Adams wrote to Jefferson, “She has a girl about about 15 or 16 with her, the sister of the servant you have with you.” Abigail also told she is “quite like a child” and required more care than Polly- who was five year younger. She inquired about sending Sally back to Virginia.

             There are no known images of Sally Hemings. On arrival in Europe, Sally was fourteen years of age, and had very light skin, “almost white” and “very handsome, with long straight hair down her back”. There was some resemblance between Sally Hemings and Jefferson’s late wife Martha Jefferson. Abigail Adams also described Sally as, “…she seems fond of the child and appears good natured.” Polly Jefferson and Sally arrived in Paris on July 15th, 1787. She probably ran errands and served as a chambermaid as well as a seamstress. She accompanied Patsy and Polly to dances and dinners, Jefferson spent a considerable sum in 1789 on clothing for Sally. While in Dusseldorf, Jefferson found himself fascinated by a 1699 painting by the Dutch artist Adriaen van der Werff of Abraham taking the young servant Hagar to his bed. The Virginian described it as, “delicious. I would have agreed to have been Abraham though the consequence would have been that I should have been five or six thousand years.”

         Since her arrival in France, Sally had been paid some small wages- twelve livres a month for ten months. Jefferson had bought clothing for her and had her inoculated against smallpox. Sally’s day routine is less clear, though she may have served the Jefferson daughters as a maid at the convent school during part of her time in Paris. It was during the years of 1788 and 1789 that Thomas Jefferson began his sexual activity with Sally Hemings (then only fifteen or sixteen years old). The emotional content of the Jefferson-Hemings “relationship” is a mystery. Some say he loved her, and vice versa. Others argue it was coercive, institutionalized rape. If someone is your property, it is impossible for you to ask consent before sexual acts because they are “property” to you, property cannot give consent. No consent before sex is rape. All those who were slaves brought into concubine with their masters were raped- property cannot give consent because they are owned by another human being. It was not love, it was rape. Property cannot give consent. Sally Hemings might of been doing what she had to do to survive an evil system, accepting sexual duty as an element of her enslavement and using what leverage she had to improve the lot of her children.

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Little Dragons (G-Dragon)

Originally posted by hell-ogoodbye

Type: Fluff

Request: Hello 💕 I wanted to ask if you could do a Kwon Jiyong scenario as a dad on The Return Of Superman? Thank you very much ❤️

“Siyeong back up” you say pushing the small walker out of the way. The 8 month old had been at the VJ tent fingering up the camera as much as her little finger could reach from it. 3 year old Jiheon sat on the floor playing with his cars. You peaked into the tent handing the man a bottle of water “it gets warm in here"you say before heading over to the other tent. Siyeong followed you as much as she could in the walker. “Mom we’re home!” you hear as your oldest sons Jimin and Sangmin. They were 9 years old and coming home later from school.

“The camera people here” Sangmin stated as he looked in the cameras. Siyeong zoomed over to her brothers before the front door opened again and she headed over. “Look at my pretty princess” Jiyong coos as he picks her up out of the bouncer and kicks it back into the wide open. “Hello” he calls as he looks around with a large smile. “So I’ll be leaving in a few” you told him “you’re not waiting?” he asked as you shook your head “I made dinner then you guys can eat. The night schedule is on the fridge and then the list of what to do” you state “kisses” you call as bend down and two sets of lips kiss your cheeks “coming” Jiheon spoke rushing over. You gave a sad smile to them all “be good for daddy” you say as you stroked your daughter’s cheek before you headed to the door.


“Hello” Jiyong says awkwardly sitting down “I’m Kwon Jiyong” he glances over at Jimin “I am Kwon Jimin. I’m 9” “I’m Kwon Sangmin also 9” Sangmin says as he glances down at Jiheon who was focused on his toy “what’s your name?” Sangmin asked “Jiheon” he responds loudly “how old are you?” Jimin asks “8” “he’s 3” Jiyong corrects as Jiheon smiles. “At this is the princess of the family. Kwon Siyeong she’s 8 months old” Jiyong says standing his daughter up on his lap. “I’ve been on the show when it first aired a long time ago and also with Sarang. But now I really get to enjoy the show for all its worth” Jiyong continues “I gotta poo” Jiheon says ruining Jiyong’s moment. “Alright do you need to hold my hand?” he asks passing Siyeong off and getting up.


The next morning Jiyong woke up and quietly got out of bed trying not to wake up Jiheon who took up most of the large bed some how. He peaked into the crib on Siyeong before heading out. He quickly went to the fridge to look at your directions for breakfast ‘if you can’t make eggs and toast we have a problem’ he read as he smiled ‘Jiheon needs cereal and fruit’ ‘and Siyeong’s baby food is on the top shelf of the fridge’ he read as he opened it up. “This is literally applesauce with a baby brand on it” he says grabbing the eggs and jelly.

Soon the bedroom door opened and the twins made their way out “brushed your teeth?” Jiyong asked “yes” they respond “moisturize?” “yes” they finish as the both go to the fridge for a drink. “Hey are the little ones a lot to handle?” he asks “they’re both attention hogs” Jimin says “watch out for Siyeong’s walker” Sangmin continues. “And you guys won’t be back until 7?” he finishes “nope” they say together.

“Mommy!” Jiheon yells before a whine fills the apartment. Jiyong makes his way back to the bedroom to see Jiheon staring down at his sister who was wide awake because of him. “Mommy?” “she left remember” Jiyong says helping him off the bed. He bent down picking Siyeong up. “Pretty baby. Look at your hair” he coos kissing her face. She gave him a large smile as he carried her out to the table. Sangmin was at the stove finishing the eggs he left there “oh man. I’m sorry” he says “they aren’t burnt” Sangmin says grabbing plates and a bowl for Jiheon knowing the morning routine oh so well.


Jiyong became a popular dad since he started last month. After four episodes people were in love with his children. “Where are we going?” Jiheon asked as he looked around the car. “Petting zoo” Jiyong said as Jiheon clapped. He looked at Siyeong who was half asleep. Smiling he took a deep breath. “Siyeong” he called as her eyes opened wide. “We’re gonna see puppies” he says as she smiles. “You like puppies?” he coos “I like them” Jiheon says “yeah what’s your favorite?” Jiyong asks pulling into the parking lot. “Brown ones” Jiheon answers as the door slide open to the van “yeah? Maybe we’ll see some” Jiyong tells him as he unbuckles him from his seat before moving a cross to get Siyeong. 

“Daddy hold me” Jiheon says as Jiyong looks at Siyeong before bending down and picking up his son. “I wish the twins could have come” he said as they step in. “Look” Jiyong says as he puts Jiheon down. He helped Siyeong stand up letting her practice walking as she made sounds of excitement at the bunnies. “They’re babies just like you guys” Jiyong comments “I’m a big boy” Jiheon says resting his hands on his hips “sorry just like Siyeong then” he corrects as Jiheon nods. 

Feeling eyes he turned seeing people there with their phones “look it’s Jiheon” someone says as Jiheon turns “hi” he says waving at his fans. “He’s cuter in person” the girl tells Jiyong as he smiles “thank you” he says kindly. “Can I get a picture with you guys?” she then asks as he nods. “Ji they want a picture with us” he tells his son who walks over. Jiyong picked him up and got ready to pose. He did the cute peace sign before doing another “pick one” Jiyong tells him as the picture was taken. “Thank you so much” she said to him as he nods “have a good time” she then says as he smiles “we will. Say bye bye” he tells them as they wave her off. “I wanna see goats” Jiheon says as soon as she leaves “alright” Jiyong tells him as they went to look for the goats. 


Jiyong was excited about today as he had all of his kids for once “we’re going shopping” Jiyong says excited “why?” Jimin asks as he finished his milk “well Siyeong is getting too big for her clothing, Jiheon covers his in stains, and all you guys were is sports wear” Jiyong lists. “We don’t need to be in fashion we need to be comfortable” Sangmin comments as he picked up the plates from the table. “You know I was a fashion icon in my day” “and you drove fast cars, smoked, dated, dyed your hair a lot” Jimin and Sangmin took turns listing off. “you guys are mean to your father” Jiyong comments as he started to feel embarrassed.  

“Did mom make you boring?” Sangmin teases “mommy is the best” Jiheon says as Jiyong helps him out of his seat “well I’m going to introduce you to skinny jeans and dress shoes” Jiyong comments not really caring anymore if they were teasing him. He wanted to get them to dress up at least once in their lives as a family for pictures and what not so he could share his perfect kids to the world more. 


“Hey” Jiyong says as you walked into the apartment. It was roughly twelve at night and the filming had stopped for the week. He pulled you in for a kiss as you smiled “I like being greeted like this” you tell him as he kisses you again “you know the twins are kind of rude” he comments as he pulls away. “What?” you asked him as he took your bag “they were picking on me because I used to be like rebellious” he says. “And now you’re a suburban house dad” you joke as he makes a sound “that’s where they get it from” he tells you as you push him lightly walking into the apartment more. “You know I changed a lot for you, I gave a pretty nice lifestyle” he told you “being a dad is better than being some 40-something year old bachelor?” you ask “much better” he promises. “I made perfect humans, with my gorgeous wife. I live in a large apartment in Seoul. Drive a minivan. I still live pretty good” he continued “well we should ship the kids off to one of the other Supermen so we can have a date night” you say resting your hands on his chest as his went around your waist. “

Yeah? What would we do?” he asks as a flirty smile comes across his face. “We’d get good food, that we don’t have to share with tiny hands” you start “then we can watch a movie that doesn’t have talking animals or men in skin tight suits” you continue as he rocks the two of you. “Then we can sleep in without having to worry about being kicked by Jiheon and woken up by Siyeong needing to be changed or held” you continue as he groans “that sounds great” he says “then we can even have sex” you say in a different tone as he starts laughing. “Should we spoil ourselves that much?” he asks as you nod “one night every once in a while sounds nice” you say as he nods. “Then I can call up one of the dad’s then and the show” he states “good now I want to sleep with my hard kicking son” you say as he chuckles letting go of you letting you and him head off to your room.

Side A, LMM/Reader

Prompt: Loosely based off of ‘Love is a Mix Tape’ by Rob Sheffield which I read forever ago and vaguely remember.

Words: 1,122

Author’s Note: Fun fact, I picked this book long before Lin went on that rant about making mix tapes on Twitter. Do I know that boy, or do I know that boy? This prompt made me sad but the deadline made me push through! Thank you time constraint for forcing me to write angst!

Warnings: Character death due to disease. Cursing. Mild spoilers for thes book.

Askbox | Masterlist | HamWriters write-a-thon | My fics from this week!

Start with a hype track, something to get the juices flowing and the hearts bumping.

Eminem was the way to go - he knew your guilty pleasures well. The fact that you hadn’t stumbled across an Eminem track since early high school was not lost on him. Nostalgia was on his side. He added Lose Yourself to the playlist, knowing you could recite it from memory after all these years.

Even more hype. This is the build up, keep building! This is the pregame to the Superbowl and you were the starting quarterback.

Beyonce had to make a guest appearance, what was a mix tape without her on it? Nothing. Run the World it was.

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High and Low

this is for soma week 2017 day 1: confession! i asked for prompts and @whos-that-foxi-lady said: “maka being fascinated with the way Soul sings when he thinks no one is listening.” so here you go! warnings for swearing and mentions of blood and an accident.  

She’s hooked on the way he sings when he thinks no one’s listening. Dress skirt bunched up in her hands, she stands a safe distance away from his rolled-down car window, steeping in his voice’s melancholic highs and lows. The moments before he notices her and cuts himself off are brief but glorious and leave her heart full.

In this newfound silence, she offers a gentle smile and takes in his neatly parted hair, pressed blazer, and black bowtie. The vulnerability on his face is divine, a privilege to witness. Her fondness for him deepens even more than she thought it ever could. “Hey, you. You look nice.”


“No problem. Can I climb in?”


Sliding into the passenger seat is instinct to Maka, who probably knows the car better than Soul because she keeps up with its maintenance schedule for him. Together they’ve added roughly twenty thousand miles to the odometer during the last year he’s had it, going on day trips each Saturday, cruising the streets until curfew when one of them wants to get out of their house and needs the other’s company. Even when they’re deep in their own thoughts, they’re together, which is how Maka knows she’s needed right now.

After all, she only catches Soul singing when he’s fighting off an extreme emotion.  

Keep reading

Once Upon a Quarantine

by: mldrgrl
Rated: PG
Summary: for @txf-fic-chicks post-ep/missing scene challenge - At the end of Firewalker, Mulder reports that they are in day 4 of a month long, mandatory quarantine.  So, what was that like?  Thank you @sunflowerseedsandscience for narrowing things down for me!

After the first week of the quarantine, they relaxed our decon status to level 3.  It still meant the same checks, same blood samples, same fluid samples, same vitals taken, just less often.  The week after that, they relaxed it even further down to level 2.  Which was still the same tests, less often, only this time the personnel weren’t required to wear masks.  At the very least, Scully and I weren’t isolated.  Not from each other, anyway.  

Those first two weeks we were kept in a ward resembling a hospital, complete with adjustable beds and every kind of monitor known to man.  It was just us, ten empty beds between us, and a rotating staff of CDC doctors and nurses who were pretty excited about a possible fungal contamination when we first arrived, but quickly grew bored with our complete lack of presentation of any symptom and generally left us alone if they weren’t drawing blood.

Scully read a lot.  They had a whole library of material to choose from to keep us biohazards from going stir crazy, but Scully wasn’t the type to sit down with the newest Michael Crichton novel.  She requested textbooks on pathology to kill time.  I would rather swallow nails than read a textbook.  I did get to consult on some behavioral profiles that were sent over for me to offer input on, so I did get something done.  One evening, I amused myself by turning on all twelve TVs in the room to MTV, turning out the lights, and tried to convince Scully to come party in Club Quarantine.  I even sweet talked one of the nurses into providing me with a tray of test tubes and I filled them with gatorade.  Scully humored me by doing one shot and then went back to her little corner of textbooks while I played air guitar to some new Aerosmith video.

I wasn’t worried about a fungal contamination at all.  From what we witnessed out at the institute, we’d have been long showing signs by now if we were exposed.  What I was worried about, was Scully.  In all honesty, I didn’t think it was a good idea for her to return to work so quickly, but she was adamant about it.  And though she cleared her physical tests and her recertification training, I just thought that taking a break to deal with the abduction, which she has no memory of, would be wise.  The only reason I agreed to sign off on her reinstatement was because it meant I could keep an eye on her myself.

I don’t know if she knows it, but she’s had nightmares almost every night since we’ve been here.  I’m not much of a sleeper, so I stayed up late watching TV down on my end, volume low, and I could hear her soft whimpers from across the room.  I didn’t really know what to do, but I didn’t want to wake her.  What exactly would I say, for one thing?  And if I know Scully, she’d be so mortified she may not sleep again the entire month if she knew I saw her like that.  I suppose the cat would’ve been out of the bag if she was more like me and woke up shouting, but she just whimpered with a furrowed brow.  I put my hand on her shoulder and eventually she relaxed.

Three nights in a row I was pulled from bed by the same whimpering cry and then nothing for the next four nights.  Towards the end of the second week it was happening more frequently and multiple times a night.  She never woke up and I never did more than touch her shoulder and wait for her to stop.

The third week of quarantine, they moved us into a unit that was more like a hotel.  It had a separate bedroom and a pull out couch and a kitchenette.  Gentleman that I am, I gave Scully the bedroom and I took the pull out couch.  It wasn’t all that comfortable, but the only TV in the place was in the little living room and I could make do.  The best thing about the new digs was that they let us make requests for groceries and it turned out that Scully actually likes to cook things.  She also wasn’t half-bad, even if she prefered things that are rather bland.

Now that we had a real room and a VCR, Scully grew less interested in her textbooks and started joining me for movies at night.  Most of the time, she went to bed before they were over and considering she shut the door to the bedroom, I have no idea if the nightmares continued.

We were in the home stretch with only a week to go of this imprisonment when she fell asleep next to me during movie night.  Another nice thing about the new stage of quarantine was they let us wear actual pajamas instead of hospital scrubs and she had on this pair of pinstriped flannel pj’s that looked pretty cozy.  I had stretched out on the pull out, propped up by cushions and pillows and Scully curled up on her side, propped up on her elbow.  I saw her lay down at one point, but I didn’t realize she was asleep until the nightmare started.

It was just a little whimper and I picked up the remote to mute the TV.  The light from the TV made her skin glow and I could see a tear trickling from the corner of her eye and glistening down the inside line of her nose.  

“Shit,” I whispered.

Crying was something else.  She hadn’t cried before and my heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice.  It brought back memories of nights when Samantha was little and she’d run to my room after having a nightmare, after our mother had told her one too many times to go back to bed.  I would hug her and tuck her back into bed and look in the closet for monsters until one night when I’d just gotten too old and impatient to deal with an annoying little sister who came running every time she heard a noise.  I told her to stop being a baby and stop barging into my room and I don’t know what she did to comfort herself after that because less than a year later, she was gone forever.  If I’d known then what I know now, I never would’ve turned her away.  

Scully isn’t Samantha.  I can’t hug her and tuck her in and pretend to have a bottle of super potent monster repellent hidden under the bed to chase all the bad guys away.  I can’t tuck her in and tell her I’ll stay until she falls asleep.  Scully isn’t seven and she doesn’t hero worship me and think I can do no wrong.

So, I did what I’d done the first weeks of quarantine and I put my hand on Scully’s shoulder, but still she whimpered and still the tears continued to trickle.  I wondered what the nightmares were about.  The abduction?  Something else?  I wished she’d confide in me, but honestly, one of my biggest fears  since she’d been returned to me was that she blamed me for what happened.  I wasn’t there to answer my phone.  I didn’t track Duane Barry down in time to stop it from happening.  And I spent months looking, but still I never found her. I’d understand if she didn’t trust me anymore, but I really wanted a chance to earn it back.

Suddenly, Scully gave a jerk and her eyes opened.  She shivered and her eyes rolled in confusion.  Her breathing was quick and shallow.

“It’s okay,” I said, quietly, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Mulder?” she whispered, voice thin and breathless.

“Unfortunately.  You okay?”

“Fine,” she whispered.  “I’m fine.”

“Bad dream?”

She pulled at the collar of her shirt a little and smoothed her hand up and down her throat as she nodded slightly.  She brushed her hand across her cheek and then pulled her fingers away and a look of surprise crossed her face when they came away wet.  

“I don’t remember,” Scully answered.

“Was it about the spores?”

“I don’t know.”

Scully curled her body up a little tighter and I was surprised she hadn’t already gotten up to leave.  I was hesitant to do it, but I put my hand on her head.

“If you wanted to talk at all,” I said.  “We can.”

“I told you, I don’t remember.”

“Not just about the dreams, about anything.”

“I meant the abduction,” she said, quietly, her eyes slipping shut.  “I don’t remember.”

I moved my hand away and put it in my lap.  “I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Scully.”

She took a deep breath and sighed as she exhaled.  She shifted slightly and curled up a little bit more.  Quietly, I leaned forward and grabbed the blanket from where it was folded at the end of the bed.  I opened it up and draped it over her, adjusting it over her shoulders so she wouldn’t be cold.  She sighed again and one of her arms flopped out towards me.  Slowly, I leaned back again and when a few minutes passed and she hadn’t moved, I reached down and put my hand in hers.  Her fingers twitched and reflexively curled over mine.  There weren’t any more nightmares for her the rest of the night.

The End

Special Affair (Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A/N: Remember like a month or two or however many ago when I was on a jealousy kick? c: This is just a little intermission snack for some Bruce/HANK (I MISS HIM) requests I’m workin’ on~ ♥

Word Count: 1936

“Again, I can’t express enough how thankful I am that you all came here tonight and how supportive you’ve been. I just wanted to remind everyone that the charity auction will be ending shortly, so don’t forget to place any last bids while you still can! Enjoy the rest of your night.” I stepped away from the mic stand and went back to all of my guests. I was hosting a sort of thank you dinner for Gotham Outreach, a non-profit organization myself and some college friends started to help the youth of this city. It was also the celebration of our first year running and I couldn’t have asked for more success for a starter organization.

 I was enjoying a laugh and champagne with my co-founders when I noticed a guest freeing himself from an older set of donors. “Bruce Wayne… I haven’t seen you all night, thought my invitation got lost in the mail.”

 “I was stuck in meetings all day but made sure to carve out my evening for this very special occasion.”

 I smiled. Never for a moment did he fail to be charming. “You know Mr. and Mrs. Dunham?”

 “They were long time friends of my parents. I grew up around their grandson.”

 “I see.”

 “This is an amazing turnout. I believe congratulations are in order.”

 “Thank you, thank you. Yeah, it’s beautiful isn’t it? I never imagined things would be this great.”

 “And I see some of the kids you’ve helped here.”

 I shook my head and looked around the event hall. “No… We all helped them. Everyone here, every donation, every helping hand. We all changed their lives.”

 “Y/N?” I turned around at the sound of my name from a vaguely familiar voice to see the face of an old friend.

 “Oh my G- Teddy??”

 He laughed and reached for a hug. “It’s so good to see you, Y/N!”

 “Yes yes, it’s been so long! Oh my goodness!”

 He turned to Bruce before extending his hand. “Bruce Wayne, a pleasure to meet you.”

 “Oh my gosh- Bruce, this is Tedd- I’m sorry. Dr. Theodore Durant.”

 “Nice to meet you, Dr. Durant.”

 “Please, call me Theo. The pleasure’s mine. It’s not everyday you get to meet Mr. Wayne Enterprises himself.”

 “I thought you were still in Syria?” I cut in before this became a boys club meeting.

 “I was up until two days ago when I remembered I had a very important charity event to attend.”

 I rolled my eyes. “Please, tell me you didn’t stop saving lives for champagne in Gotham.”

 “Champagne in Gotham with a very dear friend. Congratulations, Y/N.”

 “Thank you, Teddy.” I felt my face burn and took a sip from my champagne glass in attempt to hide any visible redness.

 “Saving lives?” Bruce asked, eyes suddenly staring dead into mine. If I wasn’t red before his stare would surely do the trick.

 “Oh, umm- Teddy’s busying himself lately doing some Doctors Without Borders work overseas. His latest venture was in Syria.”

 “Doctors Without Borders, that’s amazing. What kind of work are you doing?”

 “Pediatrics,” Teddy answered. “You know in another life, this one would have been right beside me doing the same thing,” he spoke, pointing his glass in my direction.

 “Oh no no. You see, I thought I could handle pediatrics until I thought of another more suitable way I could help out children.”

 “And here you are today…” The way Teddy spoke those words…  I looked at him and it seemed like he was in absolute awe of me. I wasn’t used to people being in awe, being proud of me. It was an unfamiliar but amazing feeling.

 “So you two… met in med school?” Bruce questioned.

 I snapped out of my haze, looking at him. “No, we met in undergrad school. We started dating a little ways through our second year.”

 “Oh. You two dated previously?”

 “Yes, but ended it after about five years and some change. Teddy was completely swamped getting prepared for med school and I was working with the co-founders here trying to plan the future of the Outreach. Two very busy times in both our lives, it wasn’t fair to either of us to try to carve out time for a relationship.”

 “I see. Admittedly I’m familiar with that unfortunate predicament.”

 “Billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne, relationship struggles? I wouldn’t believe that if I saw it with my own two eyes,” Teddy said before chuckling, shaking his head and drinking from his glass.

 “Trust me, it’s not as easy as some think.”

 “Teddy’s been generous enough to donate and send families in need of help to the Outreach. He’s been a great help, even all the way across the world.”

 “Well Gotham’s home. I don’t have to be here to want the best for this city. The best for you… Besides, you know my upbringing; I wish I had a Gotham Outreach when I was coming up-”

 “-Oh please, because you just turned out so terribly-”

 “- Hey, just because I turned my coal to diamonds doesn’t mean I didn’t wish I had more help along the way, alright?” We laughed together, Bruce silently huffing a laugh to himself before Teddy parted ways to make his rounds. He was only in town for a short while and had more familiar faces to catch up with, and while he insisted I refused to hog his time to myself.

 I shook my head to myself. “I can not believe he actually came. I thought it was wishful thinking sending him that invite, thinking word would ever get to him…”

 “Don’t think you’re worth the trip?”

I rolled my eyes and made my way over to the bar to grab another glass of champagne as Bruce walked with me. “He came here for the same reasons everyone else did: to support the Outreach.”

 Bruce nodded to himself. “Perhaps. Then again, maybe he gets a little lonely all the way in Syria…”

 I laughed. “Sometimes it shocks me when you let your sense of humor come out to play.”

 “Oh, am I joking now?”

 “What is it, Bruce? You wanna be the only handsome philanthropist in my life?” I teased.

 “So you think he’s handsome?”

 I laughed again. Of course he’d ignore the fact I was calling him handsome, too. “Here,” I said as I handed him a glass of bubbly, also grabbing one for myself. “Have a glass of champagne, maybe two. Loosen up and enjoy yourself, okay? I’m gonna go personally thank a few more people, check on the auction. You owe me a dance before you leave, you hear me?”

 “Well, can’t end the night without a dance, can we?”

 I grinned as I slowly backed away from him before turning around to tend to some of my other guests. When the time came for the winners of auction bids to be announced I took to the podium with the other co-founders and called names. As I walked down the stairs of the stage to return to the party, my partner Micah made his way back to the mic. “What better way to top off a beautiful evening of charity than to say that not only have we met our goal for tonight, but we are nearly twelve grand over! That being said we’re very grateful and are closing donations for the night; of course, any donations after tonight can be received through the Gotham Outreach website…” I listened for another second before hearing a familiar name. I looked around the room, at everyone applauding, before finding Bruce sipping from his glass. Once we made eye contact I made my way over to him. He rested his glass on the bar before I grabbed him by the hand to pull him to the floor for the dance I told him to save for me.

 We stared at each other and said nothing as we swayed side to side to the music the live band was playing. At least, we said nothing until he smirked and said a polite congrats to me.

 I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “Thank you, Bruce. And you can relax now. You know he brought a date, right? She had an emergency surgery and had to leave shortly before we ran into each other.”

 “A date when he clearly came to see you? What a fool.”

 “Well he wasn’t the one that donated an absurd amount of money to score some extra points with me. I know you didn’t bid in the auction, and I heard Micah mumbling your name after announcing we reached our goal. I’m sorry, we far surpassed our goal”

 “What you call absurd I call the least I can do.”

 “Now you should be ashamed of yourself, Bruce Wayne. Using a time like this as an opportunity to strut like a peacock.”

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about; I was moved by a good cause.”

 “If we’re being honest, a charity event isn’t the worst place to have a pissing match…”

 “There we go, finding the silver lining.”

 “Jokes aside, you know money doesn’t impress me. He’s donated just like you have, and you’ve both helped in other ways, too. This isn’t a who does it better contest, especially when you’re both so great at different things.”

 “Who said I was trying to impress you? I’m just as interested in helping Gotham’s youth as anyone here.”

 “You know, I’m in such an amazing mood tonight that I’m gonna choose to believe that.”

 He smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. Now how good of a mood are we talking?” he mumbled after dropping his voice an octave or two, leaning closer to me.

 I chuckled. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

 “If I were a lesser man I would have kissed you here in front of him and everyone else already, although that’s not to say I don’t want to…”

 “You know I’m not kissing you in public. The last thing I want is to be plastered on the front of a newspaper as Bruce Wayne’s next conquest.”

 “Fine, then kiss me in the car on the way to my place.”

 “Ever the Lothario.”

 “Always a gentleman first. You’re in such a great mood, I can only think of one way to finish this night… ”

 I sighed. “You make a strong argument, Wayne.” His grip tightened just enough for me to look up at him into his eyes, kind but something less gentlemanly lurking behind them. Something feral. I had to look away if I was gonna stick to that no kissing in public rule. “I can’t just leave them to wrap up here.”

 He brought his hand from my waist to my forehead before his brow furrowed slightly. “You know… I thought you were looking a little green, but now…” He nodded to himself. “Now I see you feel a bit warm, too. I think you may have had a bit too much to drink, don’t you?” The corner of his mouth turned upward a bit before he winked at me. I laughed and shook my head. Who would have thought, Bruce of all people telling me to play hooky and ditch clean up duty.

 “… Tell them you saw me dash for the bathroom, looking pretty bad, then come get me.”

 “I’ll text you when the car’s outside ready for you. Now go.”

 “You’re fun when you misbehave, Wayne,” I purred as I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, backing away from him to head to the ladies’ room.

 “You haven’t seen me in action yet…”

Healing // Lee Jeno

spinoff to this

the prompt: could you imagine healer!jeno treating you after you tripped and scraped your knee bc he wasn’t looking where he was walking (he was too immersed in a medical textbook) and bumped into you etc etc

words: 1981

category: fluff

warning: heart attack mention, blood mention

author note: war flashbacks to when my anons all attacked me with fluffy thoughts abt healer jeno. this is for you guys.

- destinee

Originally posted by markleetrashh


All his life, Jeno had been obsessed with the art of healing. The thought that a few rare plants mashed together and boiled could literally stop a person from dying was so amazing to him. When he was old enough to go to a trading school, he didn’t choose knight training like every other twelve-year-old. He chose healing.

He wanted to become someone others could look up to. Someone who could take care of others and make them feel happy and safe. So, as the only student who chose healing, he worked directly under the castle’s healer, Mr. Kim.

Mr. Kim was Jeno’s biggest inspiration. He had taken care of the king and queen, and had even delivered the crown prince. He had stopped a plague from starting by simply reversing it and having the entire kingdom drink a special blend of tea for weeks. He was amazing. Filled with knowledge of all kinds, he knew which plant you were talking about even if all you could do was give him the shape. All the information was formatted into his brain like a second instinct. Jeno wanted the knowledge of Mr. Kim.

To get this, Mr. Kim told Jeno that all he had to do was read. Read, study, and memorize until it felt like he was going to explode from all the information he was learning. Also, repetition was key. He was to be quizzed weekly on the things he had studied, all while retaining the practical information Mr. Kim had given him. For three years, Jeno had worked his hardest without giving up once. This is what he set out to do, and he was going to do it no matter how hard it got. People were depending on him.

Especially when Jeno turned sixteen, for Mr. Kim suffered a heart attack and died instantly. There was nothing to do, and no way to save him. Jeno, as the only healer left in the kingdom, was put in charge and given the title of the new castle healer.

He had no time to grieve, really. That was okay, since Jeno really didn’t want time to catch up with him and find him sobbing in a corner. Instead, he threw himself into studying even more. Any time he wasn’t helping someone, he was studying. One of his current obsessions was finding a common way to prevent sudden heart attacks. If there was a way he could make a tea blend to give to hardworking adults that would heal their hearts, he was going to find it.
He was going to use every piece of information Mr. Kim had left with him. He was going to make his old mentor proud.

Jeno was lonely sometimes. His parents lived far away in the village, and he didn’t see them as often as he would’ve liked to. He had friends, a group of boys ranging in the highest rank of a prince to the lowest rank of a servant. There were seven of them, all loyal to each other as friends. Prince Jaemin was perhaps Jeno’s closest friend. The prince himself was lonely, as many people heard the rumors of him leaving a mysterious lover behind in the village.

Jeno and Jaemin leaned on each other a lot during their eighteenth year. Jaemin came to the Jeno’s clinic to escape the realities of royalty, and Jeno was able to study for a while as the prince labeled vials and stocked shelves.

Jeno never stopped studying. He never stopped finding new ways to invent news potions and pastes in an attempt to make his own medicine for heart attacks. So far, he had only succeeded in accidentally turning his tongue purple. How that happened, he had no idea. Still, he kept working towards his ultimate goal. This usually meant he could be found walking around the castle, his nose in a book filled with medical terminologies not even the king could understand.


You were a lady-in-waiting with a restless heart. Your mother wanted you to be the future queen, so you were never allowed outside of the castle. You were barely allowed in the courtyards, to be honest. With all of your lessons and fittings, you had no time to go off and do your own thing like the people you always read about.

Adventure novels were your favorites. Stories of men and women who refused to let anyone boss them around. Instead, they broke away from the norm and went off to fight battles much bigger than themselves. You wished to become one of those people. As soon as you were eighteen, you were going to move to the village without a word to your mother. You were going to live life without expectations and duties. Perhaps you would become a fishermen, or a shop owner. Perhaps you would go back to school and become a knight.

It was the weekend, and your mother had slept in. That was how you found yourself prancing around the court barefoot, your hair unbrushed and looking anything but ladylike. You greeted all of the officials and servants with happy greetings as you danced by, feeling the freedom that the wind offered you. You weren’t paying attention to anyone, which was perhaps the reason you were bumped into from behind. You were pushed to the floor, a stinging pain creeping up your legs as your knees hit the stone ground.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. I was reading and I didn’t see you. Are you okay?”

You pushed yourself into a sitting position and looked at the person who had pushed you. Suddenly, it was as if the wind had been knocked from your lungs. He was handsome. Not quite in the way the prince was, with playful glances and bouncy steps. No, this was a softer type of beautiful, and you found yourself liking it so much more.

He offered you a hand, which you took, stumbling a bit. You then pulled up your skirts and looked at down to see blood running down your legs slowly. “Well that can’t be good…” you said casually.

The boy let out a laugh at your unbothered voice. He simply gestured for you to put your skirts down. “Follow me. I’ll get you cleaned up.”

You followed, not quite sure who this strange boy was. Nevertheless, when he smiled at you, you felt he could be trusted. “Who are you anyways?”

“Oh, I’m Jeno.” He offered his arm to you, since you were struggling to walk. “I’m the castle’s healer.”

“Really? I thought it was a man named Mr. Kim.”

“It was.” Jeno scratched the back of his neck nervously as the two of you walked towards his clinic. “He passed away a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, patting his arm in consolation. “That must’ve been hard on you.”

“It was, but over the years it’s gotten better.” Jeno pulled you into his clinic, toward the small bed nestled behind a heavy curtain. It was the bed Jeno had slept in for years, but it also served as the only bed in the clinic. If there was a patient, Jeno slept on the floor. He helped you sit on the bed, since it hurt to use your legs. “I’m still so sorry about this.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled at him. “It was an accident.” You lifted your skirts above your knees, and Jeno looked away, his cheeks slightly pink.

“Then, I’ll go get some paste that’ll close it up in no time. How does that sound?” Jeno offered you a shy glance.

“Sounds great,” you said. “However, you should hurry. Once my mother finds out that I snuck out, she’ll kill me.”

“Are you a lady-in-waiting?” Jeno looked surprised. “I’ve never seen you around before.”

“I’m usually busy with lessons, and my mother doesn’t like it when I go around the courtyards. She says it’ll give me ideas.”

“What ideas?” Jeno asked as he searched through the many shelves lining his walls. He finally extracted a jar of light green paste. “Here it is!”

“You know, she wants me to marry the prince. I don’t want to marry him. The usual lady-in -waiting drama.”

“You shouldn’t have to marry someone you don’t want to. Besides, Jaemin doesn’t want a lady-in-waiting.”

“Tell my mom that,” you said.

He bent down in front of you and extracted some paste using a wooden tongue depressor. “By the way, this might hurt so I’m sorry if it stings. It’s the skin pulling itself together.”

You nodded and braced your hands on his shoulders as he spread the paste across your wounded knees. The pain hurt just as bad as the actual scrape, and you felt tears sting the corner of your eyes. “Why does it hurt so bad?” you hissed.

Jeno grimaced. “I need to work in the formula, don’t I? It works, though. Also, when is the last time your trimmed your nails? Because the depth they are reaching in my skin is amazing.”

You released your grip. “Sorry. Although, it’s your fault for making such a painful remedy.”

“You can hold my other hand,” Jeno offered, reaching his hand toward you.

You took it without complaint, squeezing it as he applied the paste to the other knee. He apologized again, feeling his hand lose circulation from how tightly you were squeezing it.

“It’s okay,” you squeaked. “I’m not good with pain in the first place so maybe your paste isn’t so bad.”

“Oh, your pain tolerance is low.” Jeno frowned, “I should make a pill for that. Maybe a little taffy that will give you a better pain tolerance.”

“Maybe you should,” you agreed as he brought out a roll bandages and began to wrap it around your knees.

“By tomorrow morning, there won’t even be a scar,” he said, proudly pinning the bandages in place.

“Thanks,” you said. “I should be able to hide it from my mom until then. So, I don’t need to return for a checkup?”

Jeno looked down, a soft smile on his lips. “No. But you’re always free to come back and see me if you want. You know, the prince comes here to get away from his responsibilities. I wouldn’t mind it if you did as well.”

Your blush matched his as you climbed off the table. “I might just have to take you up on that offer, Jeno. Now, what do I pay you?”

“Hmm?” Jeno was too absorbed in the excitement of you returning, that he almost hadn’t heard your question. “Oh! No need to pay me!”

You frowned. “Well, I shouldn’t get healing for free. How about this?”

“How about wha—” Jeno stopped mid-sentence as you leaned forward and planted a kiss on his left cheek. “—Oh, yeah, that type of payment is okay, I suppose.”

You giggled. “I thought it would be. I’ll try to come by tomorrow and you can tell me about all those weird terms in your book.”

“Oh, you don’t want to hear about those,” he said.

“I do,” you insisted. “Trust me. I want to learn more about you and what goes on in your head.”


“Why do you sound so surprised?”

Jeno shrugged, “No one really cares about my studies. They all ignore me and say I should’ve been a knight.”

“If you had become a knight, who would’ve taken care of me?” you asked innocently.

Jeno smiled. “You’re right.”

“Keep working hard, Jeno. I believe in you. I’ll bring lunch tomorrow so don’t eat too much beforehand, okay?” You began to leave, satisfied with his short nod.

“Wait!” he stopped you.

When you turned to face him, he smiled brightly, his eyes turning into crescents. “Is it like a date?”

You looked down bashfully, “Yeah. It’s a date.”

~the end~

REQUEST: Middlemarch [Noctis/Reader] Angst

Originally posted by ludast

If you want angst, I’ll give you angst! Oh God, I don’t think I angsted properly with this, because it’s so weird writing for Noctis. But I won’t say too much and give it away! I’m so sorry for the wait, Anon!

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of written feelings and words with meaning

Summary: Recently, Dan’s become addicted to this writing blog. He’s so addicted to it in fact, that he might as well be in love with it. The writer seems to say exactly how it feels and he finds himself wishing he had someone who was so deeply in love with him to write for him like that. Little does he know that there is already someone doing that and he’s closer than he thought.

Phil, on the other hand, has his own feelings and secrets to keep.

Excerpt:  For he was more than happy to stand at the shore, watching the tide roll than to submerge himself into the water, get whisked away by the waves, and before he knew it, he’d be too lost to find his way back.

Words: 5k+

Genre: Fluff, Angst (??)

A/N: FOUR DAYS. THIS TOOK ME FOUR DAYS. Anyyas, this was a whole lot of fun to write and I guess this is my year-end gift as well as my HOLY SHIT GUYS THANKS FOR 1.4K YA’LL ARE AMAZING GIFT.

“his laugh was a work of magic
filling my lungs with fresh air
he brought colour to a life so tragic
and held a heart with utmost care

yet he was a hero who didn’t know he was one
a knight saving people he couldn’t see
i would gladly give him the sun
even if he wouldn’t know it was me

oh what a cruel god rules my life
i write for a man who doesn’t know
and despite it, i hold unto the knife
cause i’ve planted a seed that has grown

so, i sit back and watch him live
because many say we met through fate
and bit by bit my heart i give
although i won’t get it back, ‘till kingdom come i’ll wait”

Dan’s eyes were focused on the addicting blue of the screen (he could think of a blue that looked much better than that), scrolling mindlessly, occasionally breathing out through his nose as a desperate attempt of a laugh when he came across the poem. With text posts, he’d normally read it then just scroll on. However, this one managed to hold him captive, a whisper of his mind told him to pay it more attention.

And so he did.

The brunet clicked on the poem’s original poster. Immediately, he was greeted by a monochrome theme with the title Words Written with Feeling in Search of a Meaning and he must admit, it took a while for his sleep-deprived mind to understand it.

For hours, Dan read this writer’s words. From what he could gather, the writer was a man and most of what he’s written was so tragically beautiful. His way with words was astonishing. They made you feel as if you were the one who felt his emotions.

Granted, most of his writing was in first person but despite that, the way he described his thoughts danced on the line of vague and descriptive. It was symbolic. His words made you think of their meaning enough to get a grasp on the complications that were his feelings.

Besides, he found it ironic that the blog was monochrome for the words of the writer were so colourful. Iridescent hues lacing between the curves of every letter. Splashes of colour highlighting every word.

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You’re Not There

Based on the song: You’re Not There by Lukas Graham

Word Count: 2080

Warnings: Angst. Death.

A/N: I had a weird day and was feeling super angsty/depressed. Then that song came on my iPod and I just… I just had to write.

Version en Español:Tú No Estás Allí

Her gratitude was etched into every worry line and wrinkle on her face as she hugged her little boy close. Over his shoulder, the woman stared up at Dean with watery eyes. “Thank you so much!”

With a little wave and smile, Dean turned and walked away. Another hunt and another win. Everyone made it out alive except for the monster. A year ago he would have celebrated with you. A year ago, he would have let your excitement at seeing a family reunited wash over him. A year ago, you would have wrapped your arm around his waist and guided him to the Impala with a beautiful smile painted on your lips.

A year ago, everything was different.

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