instead of remembering when it was on my dash the day after

exchanges (m)

Summary: In which Jeon Jungkook is that friendly neighborhood superhero, you’re the face in the hallway that saved his high school career, and he can’t ever seem to get a grip around you. Even when he makes you scream after a fated accident—not for the reason you may be thinking; get the thought out of your head! 
Pairing: Jungkook | Reader 
Genre: Fluff/Smut; Spiderman AU 
Word Count: 14,838
Author’s Note: Honestly though, it was only a matter of time before I got around to writing a story like this. I am obsessed with Spiderman, so this might just be the foundational guideline for many future Jungkook Spiderman AU drabbles to come in the future. 

The story was also heavily inspired by this photo that made me cry for seven days and seven nights. +photo credit !!!!!!!

.

(the present)

If Jeon Jungkook is against anything in his life, it’s one’s ability to exaggerate certain situations or problems to make those things seem much bigger than they probably were. Well, actually, take that back. It’s not that he’s against it per say, it’s just that his peer’s daily struggles of pop quizzes and missing the morning bus aren’t exactly headliner news—especially in comparison to what he has to go through.

Jeon Jungkook is against exaggeration, probably because he can’t get away with it himself. It’s not that he doesn’t like to exchange his fair share of embellished stories or fabricated events weaved into true experiences, it’s that he can’t afford to do so. Sharing stories of his nightly routines and dashing superhero adventures may seem great, but only if he could manage the burden of a personal life and a masked life intertwining.

As an 18-year-old boy, he can probably say it’s safe to assume that he cannot. Manage the overwhelming, opposite pressure both of his lives take him, that is. It’s difficult enough being a college freshman, a tiny fish in an ocean of whales and sharks, but throw in his late night Spiderman facade would be too much of a tale to share with other people and peers who probably ask too many questions and know too much about him. He’s never liked the exposure that comes with being in the spotlight, and he can’t hide behind his mask if people knew who he was.

Oh. Right. Speaking of his Spiderman facade, that’s who is he. Haven’t heard of him? You know, the dashing hero of Seoul, red and blue spandex attire with a web shooter, fine tuned senses and amazingly quick reflexes? The boy who swings around the city, volunteering for trouble and always coming out right on top? The boy who constantly maintains that casual, slightly amused tone throughout a majority of his rescues?

Yeah, well, that’s Jungkook.

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How to Successfully Adopt a Lifestyle Change

Not a diet. Diet implies temporary, and what we need to do is form a set of new, sustainable habits for the rest of our life.

A lot of you probably have a daydream of taking a black, billowy trash bag and planning a SWAT-style assault on your fridge and cupboards and then setting fire to the dumpster you hurl it into. Naturally, you’ll dash over to the grocery store and purchase a ton of strange-looking foods you don’t regularly eat, or never eat! Then you’ll slap on a pair of shiny new shoes and go run a 5K. This works for–some people. Honestly, few people.

The reality for many people; however, is they get off their foray after a few weeks. Why is that?

Think about it. How long did it take you to really get into the groove of your current habits? Months? Years? If you’re trying to simultaneously kiss soda and chip’s ass good-bye, change every bite of food you eat, and start a fitness routine. Guess what? Stress, stress, stress! Your stomach was used to those portion sizes (whether too large or too small) and some of your favorite snacks, your brain is literally addicted to it. A lot of people will reach nuclear meltdown levels trying to transition to a healthy lifestyle this way.

Just like it took you time to form your current habits, it’s going to take some time to form your new habits. I truly do empathize with the feelings of wanting everything to be different right now, but realistically we can only handle a certain amount of stressors and change at one time.

Start With Nutrition Habits: While I really would recommend finding a few cheeky ways to get more active, you’ve probably heard some variant of “can’t outrun your fork,” or “it’s 80% nutrition.” Well, it really is true. Being more active is absolutely crucial to improving overall health in the “endgame,”  but we’re still playing the “tutorial” and the dietary aspects of our lifestyle change are the bulk of the impact. It goes beyond that, though. I’ve written more about it here, but being a beginner can be genuinely hard at times!  It takes a lot of time and effort to get oneself to a point where they can physically and mentally handle what entails “regular, moderate exercise.” One part of making that transition easier will be better nutrition and hydration.

Start With an Easy Target: I always tell people if they drink a lot of soda, juice, or sweetened tea/coffee to start here. Sugar provides us pretty much no nutrition and removing the pulp from fruit makes juice not that great for us, either. Drinking more water is not negotiable and replacing these beverages with water will do a surprising amount of good for how you feel–all by itself. I recognize how hard this one can be to kick, but sweetened beverages really do load many people’s lifestyles with a lot of bad juju.

If you don’t have a beverage problem, maybe you do have a condiment/dressing problem and can reduce the quantities and find alternatives. Maybe you party-hardy a little too much and need to cut down on alcohol. While I said “easy target,” no one said it would be that easy, but you probably have an idea where most of these so called “empty” nutrients are coming from.

Transition Bad Habits a Few at a Time: The opening of this probably already made it clear, but Rome wasn’t built in a day. You probably have an idea of what some of your most problematic habits are, so choose one; maybe two, and see how you adjust over a week or two before considering the next step.

Small Swaps: Start switching out various items in your pantries, fridges, and lunchboxes with simple alternatives. Change white breads, rices, and pastas to brown. Take the bag of chips from your lunch and turn it into a few servings of seasonal fruit and vegetables. Pick out a leaner cut of meat and use a little less dairy, if you eat them. Little changes can have massive results.

Learn Moderation: Remember that whole sustainable part at the very beginning? Our lifestyles do need to reflect our real lives. Well, my real life has a love of chocolates, pastries, and candies. So, it’s not realistic for me to say “no chocolate, pastries, or candies.” Food molarity can be a pretty toxic outlook on eating and life in general. Instead of labeling foods as “bad,” just learn and respect the limits. There are times where you have to say, “enough, is enough,” but living in a constant state of “no” is not realistic or mentally healthy for most people. It’s OK to love indulgent food. Think about how long your life is going to be. So, now think about how dinky an occasional treat will be in retrospect.

Depending on Your Struggles, Consider Therapy: As we know, many aspects of unhealthy eating habits are actually unhealthy mental habits. Depending on the severity and exact nature of those problems, never be embarrassed to seek professional help. I struggled with stress eating and even binge eating for most of my adolescence, and finally getting help for my anxiety disorder played a pretty crucial role in improving both my physical and mental health. If it’s not a possibility at this time, consider journaling.

Walk Before Your Run: Literally and figuratively. I’m going to recommend this previous post I recently wrote again, but when you’ve gotten a few habits cracked and feel like you’re ready to start amping up your activity, start with low impact and low equipment exercises. If it has been years, or if you’ve never exercised, it takes some easing into it. I recommend walking to all beginners because we already know how to do it, have what we need to do it, and probably won’t hurt ourselves.

So, there you have it. Tackle small challenges and get your body acclimated to them before you consider some of the overarching and holistic goals you have for your lifestyle. That said, we’re all different. If you still want to try and do that 180-flip, I can’t stop you and some people are successful that way. No two people or personality types have the exact same problems or strategy for overcoming them. However, if you’ve gotten frustrated and thrown in the towel a time or two, consider the scope of change and how to realistically implement it over a period of time.  We didn’t form our old habits overnight.

Something They Don’t Know

Prompt: In which Daveed Diggs is asked how he comes up with his lyrics during an interview. Told in his POV.

Warning: Smut.

A/N: Day 5 of the write-a-thon. Of course I would post this early when all I’ve been complaining about is not having enough time to write. Oh well. Also, I’m sure Nadeska Alexis is a cool girl, I just needed her to behave this certain way to get the story going. Enjoy!


Daveed slips his phone into his pocket and stood to give Nadeska Alexis a handshake once she enters the dressing room, Lin’s advice on how to handle the tricky reporter reverberating in his mind. Having done the Complex interview with Chance previously, he warned him about her ruthlessness and her inclination to pry for scandalous information she could share with her readers. Lin told Daveed to be polite, courteous, and above all, smile through the “little white lies” he would have to tell.

“Mr. Diggs, it’s unfortunate that the rest of the crew couldn’t make it,” she says, turning on her recorder and sliding it on the table that separated them, “but I’m glad you were able to come in despite the late notice.”

Daveed lets out a nervous chuckle when she ignores his gesture, his hand still awkwardly hovering between the two of them, and opts to bring out her notebook and pen from her purse instead. He was never the best with interviews, especially when he was by himself, dressed in clothes he couldn’t afford and sitting in a room that was too sophisticated for his tastes. He wished William and Jonathan were here – they understood his ineptness when it came to talking to new people and would definitely take over the interview. But since they couldn’t, he had to man up and promote the new album releasing in a week.

Nadeska sits, and Daveed follows suit, watching as she flips to a page full of questions that she’s prepared. Luckily, the first few questions were predictable –  how he adjusted to life after Hamilton, his role in Blackish, the release of the album, and the upcoming tour -  all he could answer easily and truthfully. But when she suddenly leans forward, a gleam in her eyes that screamed trouble, Daveed knew it was time to make use of Lin’s advice: smile through the little white lies. 

“So, clipping doesn’t exactly have the most innocent songs,” Nadeska hums, choosing her words carefully, “and some of them require a repeat listen. Your lyrics are curt but very complex, Mr. Diggs.  Mind if I throw a few lines at you to elaborate on? And if you could perhaps share what, or who,inspired you to write them?”

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anonymous asked:

Do you know what all of the victims did on their last day alive?

I know some of their last moments. It seems a lot of parents spoke about their final moments with their children in interviews. (Some of the ones I listed are just last remembered activities, not what they did the day before sorry.)

  • Rachel Scott 
    • Rachel’s last morning by now is very well known. Rachel and her brother had gotten into an argument because they were running late to school. He had rudely slammed the door in her face and unknowingly that was his last interaction with her. 
  • Daniel Rohrbough 
    • I don’t know Daniel’s last day, but one thing that comes to mind was he held the door open for the people behind him as he fled the school.
  • Dave Sanders
    • Dave Sanders moments are also very well known. His last moments are what made him known as a hero. Instead of protecting himself and hiding, he alerted the students in the cafeteria confirming active shooters in the school. It’s safe to say he saved many peoples lives that day.
  • Kyle Velasquez 
    • Kyle was driven to school everyday by his mother.  Kyle’s last words to her were simply “Goodbye. I love you, mom.”
  • Matthew Kechter 
    • “When I heard he was one of the ones from the library, it only made sense. He was always in the library studying. He always put academics first. He had straight A’s but he would never brag about it. I kinda looked up to him because of it. He was never in a bad mood, he was consistenly happy.” - Greg Barnes 
    • Matt was sitting with Isaiah and Craig Scott that day in the library.
  • Isaiah Shoels
    • It was a typical morning for Isaiah too. He had run out of the house and left his bed unmade. 
  • Lauren Townsend
    • The night before, her mother and her father had attended a Rockies game and got home around 9:30. When they got back, Lauren was slightly upset at them for coming back so late even though she knew they would be gone. She was disappointed because she wanted to snuggle and the game interrupted their ‘snuggle time.’ Her mother sat down with her for a few minutes, but Lauren had some work left to do and went off to bed. She said goodnight and told her mom they’d snuggle tomorrow. Her mom promised to put in extra time to snuggle. She never came home.
  • John Tomlin
    • In John’s final moments, it was an everyday routine. He left his bible open on the dash of his beloved truck and was studying at the library on the day of the massacre like everyday.
  • Daniel Mauser
    • Daniel too was in the library, a daily occurrence. But as he was approached by Eric, he pushed a chair out as a way to stand up to him. He was shot right after.
  • Corey DePooter 
    • Corey and his mother had always danced together in the kitchen growing up. His mom remembers him and his brother always being good dancers. The night before his death, him and his mom just so happened to share a last dance out of the blue. It definitely wasn’t an every night occurrence, so looking back it was really special for her.
  • Cassie Bernall
    • I’ll let her mom do the talking ;)
    • “April 20, 1999, started like any other school day in our house. At five forty-five Brad, my husband, left for work, and a little later I got up to wake the kids. Getting teenagers out of bed is always a small battle, but that Tuesday was especially difficult. Cassie had stayed up late the night before catching up on homework, and her books were all over the kitchen table. Her cat’s litter box needed attention, too, and we were running late with breakfast. I remember trying not to lecture her about all the things that needed doing before she left for school….
    • About seven-twenty Chris kissed me goodbye, or at least gave me his cheek, which is what it’s gone to lately (he’s fifteen) and clattered down the stairs and out of the house. Cassie stopped at the door to put on her shoes – her beloved black velvet Doc Martens, which she wore rain or shine, even with dresses – grabbed her backpack, and headed after her brother. As she left I leaned over the banister to say goodbye, like I always do: “Bye, Cass. I love you.” “Love you too, Mom,” she mumbled back. Then she was gone, through the back yard, over the fence, and across the soccer  field to the high school, which is only a hundred yards away. I dressed, made myself a cup of coffee, locked up, and drove off to work.” 
“Carnations” (Part 1)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (College AU)

Summary: A carnation fundraiser, an iota of possibility, and a longtime secret crush on your hot best friend - what could go wrong?

many thanks to the effervescent @buckyywiththegoodhair for beta-reading! i love you, you colorful tropical fish with scales made of diamonds! x

“Carnations” (Masterlist)

“(Y/N), if you really don’t want to help, you can leave. It’s okay.”

You snap out of your involuntary trance, meeting the peeved eyes of the tall figure in front of you. Your eyelids rapidly close and open before you blankly mutter, “Huh?”

“Since we started setting up, you’ve sighed thirteen times, loudly scuffed your shoe against the floor seven times, and spaced out four times. It doesn’t take a genius to see that you don’t want to do this.”

It takes a lot to annoy actual angel Steve Rogers, but somehow you’ve accomplished just that in only five minutes. Sheepish guilt washes over you, and you quickly insist, “I’m so sorry. But I swear I want to help!”

“Are you sure? You look a little preoccupied, and I can also do this myself if something’s –“

“No, no, I want to help. I promise,” you firmly repeat. You furiously tape the banner to the table’s edges as if to show how determined you are to help. “I didn’t mean to be a drama queen and space out.” 

Steve tiredly rubs his palm against his face. “Is everything okay?” he asks. The concern in his voice makes the guilt expand in your lungs, compelling you to cast your eyes downwards.

When faced with a small deficit in the Student Government budget, Steve came up with the carnation sale. Students could order flowers –red for love, pink for friendship, and white for secret admiration– and cabinet members would deliver them to the recipients’ respective dorms.

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Cherry Red (Jasper Hale)

Pairing: Jasper Hale/Shy!Reader
Words: 1260
Warning(s): None
A/N: Im sorry i didn’t pay attention to your request, I know you asked for an imagine but i didn’t see that part and started writing out a one-shot,,, I also went waaay off of the request i a m soooo sorry
Request:  Could you do an imagine where the reader is the very shy human mate of Jasper Hale? Please and thank you. :)


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Suck it, ya filthy, fake Redcoat!

LTL, FTP and all that Jazz. Compared to some of the stories here mine is fairly tame, but considering my age at the time, the effort I had put into the whole affair and the resulting payoff, I would consider this pro enough to fit in here.

I’ve lived in Germany almost my entire life, yet through a twist of fate, I grew up learning the English language as a native speaker, since my father emigrated to Germany from the USA. As such, I’ve always had an American accent when speaking English and I’ve never met anyone who thought they felt the need to complain about it. Every time a teacher asked why I spoke English so well I replied that I am a US National by birth because my Father is from the US. All my teachers seemed quite impressed, except this one Hag, half a lifetime ago… If there ever was an award for creepy Anglophilia, she’d be neck deep in honors and certificates. Instead of encouraging me to speak more so that the other students could learn proper pronunciation from an actual native speaker, like many other English teachers at my school back then did, this woman thought it necessary to berate me for “speaking in such a horrible and filthy manner” and “cure [me] of that insufferable atrocity of an accent.” Mind you, these were actual quotes from this woman. My dad was no help at all. He was fairly ignorant about me being bullied by one of my own teachers, and even went so far as to yell at me to “suck it up and respect my elders”. So, yeah, I stuck it up. It didn’t help that I also wrote in American English (you know, color instead of color, tire instead of tyre, cookie instead of biscuit, that sort of thing) and the Hag had the audacity to write these “mistakes” up as double errors, meaning I got twice points deducted for spelling errors that weren’t even actual errors! I was so fed up with this woman and it wasn’t even two months into the school year.

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Bts reacting to cheating on their girlfriend.

Namjoon:

“I-i,” The man who always knew what to say was at a lost of words. “BABY I’M SO FUCKING SORRY! I-i’m such an idiot.”

He can barely make his words sound coherent with the way he was mumbling them… “If you leave me, I can understand.” 

He tears at seeing you leaving but doesn’t run after you, instead he’s beating himself up mentally wondering why he did such a thing to the one he loved the most in the world.

Originally posted by myloveseokjin

Jin:

He saw the distraught, anger look you had in your eyes and just bursted out into tears, “I fucked up y/n, I can admit that. Please, Please give me another chance…” 

You shook your head and stood up. He grabbed your wrist before you walked away, “I’m sorry I did this to us, to you. You can hate me all you want, just remember I will always love you and no matter what if you ever, ever need me, just call. I don’t care if I’m your last choice… I don’t want you to suffer even more.” He wiped his tears and snot all over his sweater sleeves as you shook your way out of his hold and left.

(I know I already used this but it fits well)

Originally posted by lavender-kills

Hoseok:

God! This kids hysterical. “I’m so terribly sorry. I know this is really bad. I-i-i don’t know what to do?!” He couldn’t control himself from his waterfalls. He kept trying to grab onto air as if he was trying to speak with his hands but could make out any words. “Y/n you know this is a mistake, right?! Please don’t go…”

“Hoseok, I need some time.” You walked out the door.

“I-i-” This stuttering mess would just crawl into a ball and cry until one of the members found him on the verge of passing out from dehydration. 

Originally posted by featureless-spy

Yoongi:

“Damn it y/n, I-i can’t explain this…” He’d ran up to you to cradle your hands in his before you ripped them out. “I’m sorry baby, God I’m so sorry…”

He tried to grab you by the shoulder but you weren’t having it. He stopped trying to grab you for your attention, instead he stood still while looking down. He started yelling apologies.

“I’M SO FUCKING SORRY IM A SCREW UP. I’M SORRY I MESSED UP THE IMAGE YOU HAD OF ME. I’M SORRY I COULDN’T- NO, CAN’T BE THE MAN YOU NEED IN YOUR LIFE. I’m sorry I let you fall in love with a-an absolute piece of shit…” He saw your silhouette walk away, “I love you y/n.”

Originally posted by starnsunshine

Taehyung:

He looked up at you in big eyes unable to peep a word until he saw stomp to the door. He blocked the exit way with his body, “N-no!”

“Taehyung move.”

“YOU CAN’T LEAVE! I LOVE YOU! I MADE A MISTAKE… it was a mistake. I promise… a stupid… unforgivable… mistake.” He finally started crying at the realization of what he had just done hit him. “I-i’m a mistake.”

Jimin:

The members found him in the tub. “Uhm Jimin what are you doing?”

“I’m washing the sin off. I can’t take it. It’s destroyed my life.” It had been days later and he couldn’t face you.

“The sin?” The boys asked once again.

“The sin. THE SIN! I CAN’T LOOK AT Y/N AND SHE CAN’T LOOK AT ME! IT’S DESTORYED US! It’s destroyed my happiness…” He slowly looked up to them, “…It’s destroyed my heart.”

Originally posted by xxi-xix

Jungkook:

“Y/N PLEASE DON’T RUN OUT THIS WAS A MISTAKE! I DIDN’T MEAN TO!” He followed right behind you as you dashed out the room.

“Ba-baby come on, what can I do? huh? Do you want me to kneel and beg for your forgiveness.” He did as he said and bowed down, breaking away from his manly imagine. “Y/n please… please dear god accept me again! What do you want me to do?”

“Just… go away…”

“I-i’m in love with you y/n l/n and nothing will ever stop me from feeling that way… Come talk to me when you’re ready…” He stayed on his knees for a while until he rolled onto his side, staring into the white wall in front of him, expressionless.

Originally posted by baepsaeboyss


@anon who requested this a while back… actually fight me. Also sorry if there’s any errors,, I’m sleepy

The Arrangement

Originally posted by dean-sam-winchesterbros

Summary: in an AU where the Winchester family owns a multi-million dollar company, Dean’s in a bit of a pinch. Grandpa Samuel is threatening to cut him off if he doesn’t straighten out and stop getting into trouble. Instead of taking some responsibility, Dean comes up with an ingenious plan: find someone to pretend to be his girlfriend. You and Dean have never gotten along, but a fake relationship seems to be beneficial to you both…

Pairing: AU Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,700

Warnings: language, general rudeness (from Dean), mild angst?

A/N: so this is my new idea for a series! It’s all my brain will do right now. It’s a little rough right now, but I’m hoping you guys like it. Also the title is terrible but it’s all I could come up with.

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Storytime

Hey, I don’t know if this is how this works, but I adore the Elsewhere University world, and as a former theatre person it really spoke to me. I wrote something for you. I hope it’s half decent. 

Elsewhere U turned out fantastic stage managers. They were punctual, sharp, attentive, and—most importantly—incredibly flexible in scheduling and communication, honed from years of having to contact entire casts and crews at the drop of a pin. Rehearsal has been moved to the gym; 3:30 call. Fitting schedules to come. Leave your schedules free. The theatre department always had a few too many of them, but that worked out. Freshmen got assigned their own stage manager buddy to help them out. Perhaps the software engineers didn’t need the extra help with the rules, but They loved theatre, and without the help the underclassmen would disappear in droves. The more jaded stage managers would meet up after welcome week and cast lots on which ones would disappear first.

This year, the top candidate was universal: ‘Andromeda’, some costume technician from God-Knew-Where. She was the kind of shiny-eyed kid who already liked the Weird Stuff (the kind of high schooler who read about demons and bought crystals and did tarot cards with no real regard for the Rules) and really liked it. The upperclassmen techs were content to show up in their blacks, clutching their teas and coffee and blinking blearily into space. She showed up dripping in jewelry and piercings and vibrant colors. She’d talk to anyone (nervous chatter, mostly, but chatter inevitably lead to slips) and wrote fantasy stories and, worst of all, couldn’t seem to follow the unspoken rule of Don’t Look.

“But why not?” She demanded one time. Her beleaguered partner, “Pinstripe”, moaned and rubbed their tired eyes.

“Look, if you want to see what happens, be my fucking guest,” they snapped, “But don’t ask anyone to come and Trade you back.”

Andromeda survived somehow. Freshman year dulled her sparkle. Sophmore year spun around and she learned not to look, to be a little less conspicuous, not to chatter so much or so loudly. She started dating a sweet guy in the Music Department (a bassist, safe enough from Them) and drew less attention.

Even so, sometimes, when she was the last one to leave the basement Costume Shop, she’d pause in the empty theatre and stare across the seats, listening. Sometimes she swore she heard it; an undercurrent of whispers, the slight shift in the echo of air conditioner. Andromeda paused at the door like she did every night and unzipped her backpack, pulling out a six pack of vanilla pudding.

“Good night,” she whispered to the dark. Peeling open the containers, she left them in the last aisle and locked the doors behind her. It wouldn’t be there tomorrow.

Tech weeks went easier with her there, when the whole crew was tired and cranky and on the twelfth hour of blocking and light staging. When the whispers from the empty chairs got loud and angry and time started warping again, she’d pull out her writing notebook and read very softly until it hushed again, only the electricians on the catwalk shouting cues overhead. When wardrobe finished their laundry she stayed behind until the small hours of the morning, escorting them out into the stillness of the night and back safe to their dorms. She never came to harm alone out there; she had learned not to look, and now all of her jewelry was iron.

Well, she thought she’d learned not to look.

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“Sorry for not believing in you“

(A/N): I‘ve always wanted to write a soulmate AU, so this is a big deal for my crippling author career. Enjoy x 

Words: 2,062

Originally posted by tylerandthejosephs

The air is like frozen lace on your skin, delicate and cold. The sky is washed with grey, watery light illuminating thin patches to brilliance. That special cold and pale light, only the winter‘s sun can give, makes everything glow with slippery ice. It‘s the perfect day for staying home but sadly, you had to work today. You‘re seated at the bus stop with both arms crossed over your chest, hugging your body, as if that could provide you with some kind of warmth. 

All of sudden you see a woman getting dragged by her poodle towards another dog owner across the street and as expected, they collide. The man has lost his hat due to the incident, causing a royal blue strand on his head to become visible and remarkably stand out from the rest of his hair. Instantly noticing the phenomenon, the lady lets a loud gasp escape her lips and urgently draws the guy‘s attention to her streak of hair, that coincidentally has the exact same pigment as his. The next thing that happens is acted out just like in the movies, the lovers jump into each other‘s arms and share a passionate kiss as they pull away. At the same time, the royal blue pieces of hair from each one of them loose their colour and blend into the rest. Eventually, it seems like the scenery has turned out to be the complete opposite of a simple coincidence. Oh, the things you‘d do to finally experience the same spectacle…When will it finally be your turn to find your soulmate?

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anonymous asked:

Yakuza!Hanzo with pregnant s/o? During the pregnancy and birth?

((SO I MADE THIS A LIKE TWO PART STORY BECAUSE YAKUZA HANZO IS LIFE….I also do an excessive amount of research on things for this and it FUELED my need))

From a hostess at an upscale bar to the wife of a Yakuza boss. It sounded like the storyline of one of those movies or TV dramas and yet, this was your life. You had drawn the eye of Hanzo Shimada; the sophisticated, suave man of few words who initially frequented the establishment when holding private business meetings. You could feel his eyes on you whenever you had been working and soon found yourself requested as a personal hostess for the sharply dressed man with the hawk-like gaze. Enticing professionality morphed into actual attraction; small gift of affections turning into a request to date you which soon led to marriage.

You counted yourself as lucky. Most of the other hostesses or former yankee girls ended up in loveless, violent marriages with men who wanted a trophy wife and punching bag all in one. Hanzo treated you like a queen; granting your any desire or wish, showering you in gifts and private displays of affection. You wanted for absolutely nothing and lived in the lap of luxury within the Shimada faction walls. Anytime you left, you were flanked by personal female guards and whenever Hanzo had important ‘legitimate’ meetings, you were on his arm as his doting and loving wife. He didn’t involve you with any of his illegal practices, you were an exquisite flower in the garden of his life and he planned to keep you safe. And his child that grew inside of you.

“Beloved…”

You smiled, Hanzo’s voice was still tinged by sleep, his hands lightly moving over your waist to rest on your growing stomach. You tilted your head to the side as Hanzo placed a gentle kiss against the side of your neck, his chin resting in the crook of your shoulder. You had neither been actively trying to conceive nor working to prevent it, letting fate handle any type of family planning you’d fall under. When he found out you were pregnant, he was ecstatic in his own ways; his eyes lit up, he pulled you to him and kissed you hard and openly in front of the doctor that made the housecall. Hanzo wasted no expense in making sure your pregnancy progressed smoothly; a personal chef on call 24/7, a masseuse that you could visit in person or request on the estate, your own private midwife and weekly spa trips to keep you ridiculously pampered and relaxed. He had even begun accompanying you more after you expressed that you felt lonely with him gone so often.

This is how you found yourself waking with him at least three days out of the week, enjoying a meal or two together as he answered calls and dispatched orders to his secretary who would then pass them onto whomever needed to hear them. You leaned back into your husband, humming contently as his arms wrapped tighter around your body. His lips pressed hard against the side of your neck again, drawing a quiet chuckle from your lips and a pleased sigh from his. Covering his hands with your own smaller ones, you massaged the back of his hands before deciding to speak.

“Good morning dear husband”, you teased playfully, earning a throaty huff of a laugh at the formal nickname. “I hope I didn’t wake you…”

“No dearest”, Hanzo started between another kiss, squeezing you again. He had never made you second guess his attraction to you even through the pregnancy, his level of affection almost growing as you did. “Waking in bed without you however was inspiration enough to rise.”

A wave of nausea had pulled you out of your sleep and forced you out of bed, your hand combing through Hanzo’s hair as you rose as not to wake the man. You had slipped to the down to the kitchen and fixed yourself a cup of peppermint-ginger tea, obnoxiously sweetened to your preference. Turning your head, you gave a soft ‘oh’ when you saw he had already gotten dressed, the white button up covering his once shirtless torso.

Turning yourself around, Hanzo pulled back slightly, your eyes looking him up and down, humming approvingly. Hanzo wore both traditional and modern clothing, both looking dashing on him but the latter edging out with your preference. He wore black slacks, the white button up tucked in but not buttoned all the way up, the navy blue tie hanging undone around his collar and his black hair still down. A warm, thankful smile began to pull at your lips, your eyes connecting with your husband’s dark ones. This was a ritual that the both of you had started from when you had first been brought into the Shimada clan. You initially had been no more than a glorified wallflower; pretty, pleasant and essentially useless. Before meeting Hanzo you had been a working girl your entire adult life, working hard to earn your keep and live your life as comfortably as you could. Doing absolutely nothing left you antsy, restless. So in the morning you would rise with your then boyfriend and assist him with getting ready. You’d pick out his ties and socks, button up his shirts and assist him with putting his shoes on. It made you feel at least somewhat useful before you became the lady of the house.

Reaching out, you pulled him closer so his torso rested against your pregnant belly, one of his hands lifting to lightly stroke at your cheek. Your fingers made quick work of the button up, your fingers playfully ghosting under his shirt to lightly stroke the edges of clan’s dragon tattoo on his left shoulder before closing it. You worked your magic, tying his tie into a trinity knot, your hand smoothing over his chest as you looked up at him affectionately. His hand moved from your cheek to your chin, holding it as he dipped his head down and pressed an affectionate kiss to your lips. His free hand tenderly massaged your belly as he pulled away, smiling down at you.

“Remember to tell your doctor this, beloved.”

You nodded your head, understanding he was  referring to your nausea. He’d text you mid-day just to make sure it had been done and would take care of it himself if your pregnancy brain made you forget. Always watching out for you.

“Of course, my love.”


“Boss we can just force our way back in there…she can’t tell you to get out like that ca–”

Hanzo stopped on a dime and snarled at the man that had dared to speak, his eyes pinning the man with a look that could kill. The younger man immediately bowed, stammering an apology as he backed out of the room at the quiet recommendation from a senior member. Hanzo was known for his chilling calmness, his cutting words and icy gaze usually enough to break anyone who would cross him. But now he was on edge, snapping angrily at anyone that would speak to him as he paced. No one could blame him really. Hanzo had been kicked out of the room by your midwife after snapping at her when you went through a particularly rough contraction, the man demanding to know why the pain medication hadn’t kicked in yet.

So now all he could do was pace while several of his guards fidgeted about, thrown off by their boss’ energy. He could hear your cries through the door, his heart tugging every single time it reached his ears. His twin dragons begged to be set free, to protect their master’s mate, Hanzo was barely able to fight the urge himself. But he knew that it would upset you so instead he would wait, his heart in his throat and nervous flitting in his belly. Time trickled by, far slower than Hanzo would have liked, hours feeling like days. Until the strong, loud cry pierced the air.

It felt as if the world around him melted away, the strong, growing cries of the newborn working everyone into an excited frenzy. Someone clapped Hanzo on the back, another on the shoulder and they were all cheering when the door to the room you had been delivering in slid open a crack. The midwife smiled and motioned for Hanzo to come forward, his men pushing him when his feet froze to the ground, excited and intimidated by the prospect of finally meeting his child.

“Hanzo…come say hi.”

Your voice drew him the rest of the way into the room, warmth exploding in his chest as he laid eyes on you and the small bundle you held in your arms. Your face was ruddy, hair stuck to your skin by sweat, eyes heavy with exhaustion; but he was sure you had never looked more beautiful. He stopped in front of you, his hand lightly stroking your cheek, his other hand shaking as it came to lay gently upon the head of the newborn. The newborn boy fidgeted at his touch, his mouth opening in a big yawn as Hanzo lightly stroked his face. Emotion made his throat feel tight as he dipped down, pressing his lips hard against your forehead, pulling the both of you into a hug. Haruto gave a whine at being jostled, the newborn fidgeting before settling between his mother and father quietly.

“Haruto Shimada”, you hummed softly as Hanzo pulled back, your head falling to the pillow on your bed, patting the space on the California king sized bed next to you lightly. Your midwife hung around the background, cleaning up the area quickly and quietly, the omnic nurse following right behind her.  Hanzo took the seat, taking your hand gently and kissing your knuckles hard, as he scoot back to lay amongst the pillows with you. Immeasurable pride, love, happiness and need to protect filled his being as he looked between you and Haruto contently. You leaned your head onto his shoulder, peeking up at him through your lashes. “Would you like to hold him love?”

Hanzo barely nodded before you were carefully passing the newborn into his arms, the Yakuza head breathing stopping for several moments. Haruto fidgeted, smacking his lips lightly in a yawn once more as he turned into his father’s touch. Hanzo took this time to study him thoroughly; thick black hair covering his head, face chubby and skin ruddy from being birthed. Later, he would say that Haruto was a peculiar looking little thing when he came out but right now at this moment the child was the image of perfection. Your snort drew Hanzo’s attention up, your finger pointing to the foot of the bed with a humored smile.

Yuuki and Ame sat at the end of the bed, curled into a loose pile on top of one another and rest at your feet. The translucent blue dragons were content to sit and wait, intrigued yet protective, instantly acknowledging the new charge that had been added to the family. Extending a hand to them, you gently pat Ame on the head as he moved forward, chuckling quietly as the dragon purred under your touch.

“Keep him safe”, you ordered softly, knowing there was no real need to tell the dragons what to do.

“The dragons will consume our enemies”, Hanzo reminded you, his voice soft but mirthful as he leaned over and lightly kissed you on the forehead, cradling your sleeping son to his chest lovingly.


((I hope this is okay anon! I know I went on a tangent but it was fun!))

bring me home in a blinding dream

title from ‘castle of glass’ by linkin park. another of those fake dating aus because apparently they’re the source of my life.


She was going to kill Mary Margaret.

It’s one thing being set up on a blind date. Emma had suffered through enough of those; her sister-in-law kindly believes that there’s a soulmate out there for everyone, and the way to find them is through chance encounters. Emma gets plenty of chance encounters. Nothing like being a bail bondswoman to introduce you to a lot of men.

(She had pointed that out to Mary Margaret the day before. Her sister-in-law had frowned, raised an eyebrow, and said, “Yes, you definitely want to spend the rest of your life with a criminal who you caught while wearing four-inch stilettos. No, you’re going out to dinner with a friend of a friend of a friend that I heard was recently single. Tomorrow night. At seven. Be prepared.” She had then kissed Emma on the cheek, pushed her toward the couch, and had left Emma’s apartment without so much as a chipper “bye!”)

It’s quite another thing being stood up on a blind date.

Keep reading

The Secret (12)

prologue; part one; part two; part three; part four; part five; part six; part seven; part eight; part nine; part ten; part eleven; part twelve; part thirteenepilogue.

Baekhyun had gathered all of his members in the living room first thing in the morning before anyone left for schedules. They had probably all read the article by now but none of them mentioned it as he knocked on each of their doors and asked them into the main room. He hadn’t exactly planned what to say. Maybe he should have. Maybe he wouldn’t feel so nervous if he had figured out how he wanted to explain this new part of his life to his brothers.

Still here he was, with eight faces staring up at him in anticipation, about to tell them about the new people in his life that he would happily take a bullet for.

Keep reading

Archie Andrews | One step at a time (possible series)

Count of words: 1070

Warnings: sad, mention of suicide and a suicide attempt, may contain spoilers if you haven’t seen till episode 11-12

A/N: I am thinking of making a little series with this but if I do it’s gonna be like so depressing and reader slowly revealing her past to her friends and boyfriend and I don’t know if anyone wants to read it… If any of you want to please let me know in my inbox soo yeah, hope you like this ♥♥

MASTERLIST

PROMPTS

AND REQUESTS HERE

anonymous asked:
Can you do a Archie imagine where him and the reader are dating and instead of Cheryl falling through the ice it’s the reader and Archie, Veronica, jughead and Betty go after her?


In the small town of Riverdale no one ever thought how bad things can escalate to the level it has now. After the surprising death of Jason Blossom so many more catastrophes occured, slowly driving the little town into chaos. While everything else seemed to be a disaster and the case of the mysterious murder seemed to be held back due to lack of evidence got solved, placing FP Jones in the crime scene, with the crime weapon, killing the poor teenager. But, a group of teenagers were opposed to the decision of the sheriff and even if the evidence threw the blame towards FP, the group of teenagers managed to find out who the killer was. Clifford Blossom.

After the following death of the routhless father; it was a suicide, things seemed to simply change. People were relieved a psyco like that was finally gone, even if that ment that he died. Everyone let loose, exept her. She was one of the foolish teenagers that risked their lives to solved the case of the unfortunate football leader. It was not easy for her to see all these things happen around her so fast, so soon. It hurt her more than anyone could ever think, but she didn’t understand why. There were some pretty nasty comments thrown at her and she started making some pretty dark thoughts herself. All untill she knew what to do. 

After taking some time to think about what she should do all night, the sixteen year old, took the whole day after that to tell and show her friends how much she appreciated them. She gave Jughead a little crown medallion, just like the one he gave her when they were kids to show her how importand she was to him. She gave Betty a beautiful ring matching the one the (hair color) haired girl was always wearing, and she also gave Veronica a matching one as well; to show them how much they ment to her. Last of all was Archie. He was not like everyone else, he was not just her best friend, but her boyfriend as well. She gave him guitar that he wanted to buy for a long time, and that’s when he new something was going very wrong.

By the time the sky started to become darker the girl was already by the Sweetwater river, mentaly prepearing herself for what was to come. On the other side of the little forest to the river, the four other teenagers were worried to death as to were their friend, best friend and girlfriend was. They looked everything and they took turns trying to call her phone. Veronica actually managed to do it and put it on speaker so everyone would listen. “Y/N, where are you, we are worried sick,” the voice of a very wary Veronica traveled through the phone line. “I’m ok, don’t worry about it,” she said calmly to her. “Darling, tell as where you are. I know something is wrong just tell us,” her loving boyfriend pleaded but the girl didn’t crack even the slightest bit. “Oh, Archie. Oh, how I love you. You mean so much to me,” she said silently crying. “I love all four of you so much. Thank you for caring but it’s not going to do anything now. I love you but I have to go. I’ll sent Jason your greetings,” and she hung up. Everyone was shocked hearing the last words of the girl. “The Sweetwater,” one of them thought out loud and dashed towards the newly found destination as the rest followed close behind.

The first one to make it to the river has the gracious red head, but the love of his life was already far, far away. “Y/N, no, no, no. Don’t do it. Whatever it is that is bothering you we can fix that together.” He shouted while the rest of the group finally caught up. “There’s nothing you can fix. Not anymore.” She yelled back. The read head went to run up to her and stop her, but Veronica held him back. “The ice will not handle the weight,” the raven haired girl noticed and the others agreed. “But I need to stop her,” “We will,” Jughead reasoned his friend. “Y/N, please come here. Get away from the ice. We need you. I need you. Remember why I gave you that crown necklace?” Jughead tried to talk some sence into the girl. She simply nodded her head and the boy continued. “I gave it to you cause you are so important to me. I gave it to you to remind you that you are the only person I trust with my life. Please,” he pleaded but it was no too late. The girl moved a little and the ice that was previously cracked now created a hole and took the girl inside of it.

Archie couldn’t hold back anymore. He dushed towards the girl in hopes to get her out of the water before the current takes her body away. But it was to late. The group of teenages followed the girl’s body until it stopped. The aspiring musician fell on his knees and started puching the ice with the goal to break it and get his girl out of it. Blood started to run from his fists as the raven haired girl looked at his actions with aw, and the blonde clutched onto her boyfriend’s arm, crying while hidding behind his shoulder.

After finally managing to save the girl, the group ended up in Veronica’s house. Archie was holding the (hair color) haired girl in his arms, attempting to warm her up as the fire didn’t seem to help as much. The blanket around the two allowed his to trasfer warmth from his body to hers. He had removed his shirt previously and placing her in it after removing her soaking wet clothes, so the warmth of his body radiated to the girl easier. Jughead was sitting behind them in the couch with Betty in his arms trying to get her out of the shocked state of watching her friend attempt to kill herself, and Veronica was standing next to her mum discussing about the incident. “It’s gonna be ok.  I’m here. I love you.” Was all Archie could manage to make himself say to set the love of his life at ease. “We’ll do this. Together. One step at a time.”

The first time he enters her, he cries.

The sudden feeling of completion overwhelms him.  It’s as though his spirit has been fragmented his whole life, without his ever really having known it, and now suddenly, with every part of her surrounding every part of him, his soul has been re-knit, restored, returned to him with all its once-gaping holes lovingly mended.  

He doesn’t try to hide it because he knows she’ll understand- and she does.  She lies beneath him, cradling his head in her hands, and when she sees the tears sparkling in his eyes, she draws his face down to hers.  She kisses his lips, tenderly, kisses each of his eyes in turn, and brings his forehead to rest against her own.

He tries to speak, but finds that he can’t… and again, she understands.  She holds her fingers to his lips, stilling him.  "I know,“ she whispers.  "I feel it, too.”

He kisses her, long and slow, and begins to move within her.

—————-

The first time they’re together after he’s returned to her, he cries.

She’s promised him, repeatedly, that this is okay, that he’s not going to hurt her, not going to hurt the baby, but still, his movements are timid, cautious.  The sight of her doubled over in pain in her living room is much too fresh in his memory.

He lies curled behind her, framing her small body with his, spooned against her, in the position they’d loved to sleep in, before, but had never used for lovemaking.  But now, with their child between them, she says it’s the best option.  And when he at last slips into her, he’s glad she can’t see his face, can’t see the tears streaming down his cheeks as he finally feels, for the first time, that he is home.

She knows, though.  She always knows.  She arches her back against him, twisting her head over her shoulder to capture his mouth with her own.  She brushes his tears away with her thumb, stroking his cheek.  He runs his hand along her body, down her shoulder, over the ridges of her ribcage, around her waist, and across her round belly.

There’s a twitch under his fingers, a sudden ripple in her skin, and he jerks his hand away in surprise.  She chuckles and takes his fingers in her own, placing them back on her belly and holding them there.  He feels their child moving against his hand and thinks, We did that.  Just by doing what we’re doing right now.  And he wonders- the way he’d felt, that first time, had he known, somehow?

She reaches behind herself and clutches at his body, impatient, and after that it’s difficult to think at all anymore.

—————–

Their first time after they’ve escaped and driven off together, he cries.

He’d believed, for months, that this would never, ever happen again, that it was impossible.  And until barely a day ago, he’d believed that he was going to die without ever knowing this bliss again.  The first long, slow slide into her welcoming warmth seems to wake something deep within him, seems to tear off the suffocating shroud that his prolonged solitude has wrapped him in.  

He’s dismayed to find that it hurts her.  He wants to stop, but she refuses.  "It’s not that unusual,“ she says.  "Many women experience some pain, the first time after… after…..”  She closes her eyes, holding her own tears in check.  He wishes she wouldn’t, wishes she would just let go, but he knows that she’s never found it easy to cry around anyone, not even him… and he’s been gone for so long.  

So instead, he allows himself to cry, and in soothing his pain, she forgets her own.  For now.

—————–

The first time he’s with her in the new house, he cries.

He remembers their first time together, in his bed in his Arlington apartment, neither of them concerned with having to go anywhere at all except to work the next morning, after which they could return, together, and make love again.  Repeat ad nauseam.

On the road, on the run, the constant question of “Where next?” had stolen all possibility of real rest from them.  They had settled down each night wondering whether tomorrow would be the day they would be caught, the day the running would finally come to an end for them, the day that all hope of escape would be dashed forever.  Lovemaking had been tense, anxious, each constantly keeping an ear out, unable to truly lose themselves in one another.  

This house represents an end to all of that… but it doesn’t truly sink in for him until he’s lying on top of her in their new bed, upstairs in their new house.  He will make love to her here tonight, they will go to sleep, and tomorrow, they will wake up together.  Tomorrow night, they’ll do the same thing… and the night after that, and the night after that, and on and on.  He’s never before in his life found the idea of an unchanging routine to be quite so beautiful.

“Only good times from here on,” he tells her, and in the moonlight shining through their bedroom window, she looks as though she would very much like to believe him.

—————–

The first time they make love after reconciling, he cries.

He had done everything she had asked of him… eventually.  He had gotten himself out of the house.  He had made the psychiatric appointments (and eventually, he’d even started going to them).  He had filled the prescriptions, had taken the pills, had gotten active again, had developed a routine.  They had returned to the FBI, and he had thrown himself into his work with just as much passion as before- but with far fewer of the foolish risks he’d been given to taking in his youth.

But without her, it had been like preparing a gourmet meal and placing it on an empty table, performing a concerto to a vacant opera house, painting a portrait and hanging it facing the wall.  He knows what she would say if she could hear his thoughts: she would remind him, yet again, that he has to do these things for himself, that doing them just for her would be unhealthy, would be missing the point.

And he has done them for himself.  But what use is it all, without her to share it with?  His life, without her in it, is a “how” without a “why.”  He knows now that she cannot be solely responsible for mending the tears in his soul- he must see to many of them on his own- but sharing it with her is what makes the pain of mending worthwhile.

They’re not as young as they once were.  Their bodies have changed, skin loosening where it was once firm, lean frames hardened and weathered by rough use… but she is more beautiful to him than she has ever been before, a treasure restored to him after a long, painful absence.

She wraps her legs around him, and he is home.  The tears are flowing freely down his cheeks, but he doesn’t care, because he knows she understands.  She always understands.

She takes his head gently in her hands and presses her forehead to his.  "I know,“ she says.  "I feel it, too.”

The Masks We Wear (Connor Murphy x Reader)

Okay hello! This is my first imagine! Yay! I’ve worked really hard on it so don’t be afraid to give feedback!
Requested: Nope
Words: 2,557
Warnings: None other than some swearing

Being the new kid isn’t easy, especially when you are judged so fiercely for being yourself. You know the right words to say, the correct outfits to wear, when to smile, when to laugh, and when to disappear. You’ve never been the popular person, but you get along just fine with the façade that you’ve mastered so well it almost feels like you. Almost.
Your first day of school arrives just like the five before, even though the fall semester was already half way done. With your dad in the army you couldn’t blame him for all of the moving, after all your grandfather, great grandfather, and so on, all chose the same life. This move was slightly different though, your dad finally got the promotion that would keep you in one place for the rest of high school. You knew that at this school the mask you wore would need to be convincing enough to help you survive longer than usual.

This new school was bigger than the last, and your sense of direction wasn’t top notch. After the office gave you your timetable you scurried through the hall desperately looking for classroom 27B, and wondered if the office lady thought it would be funny to give you a fake room number. You looked at the doors as you darted around the now empty hallway as everyone had already entered a class. You were startled back to reality as you heard a locker slam behind you. You turned to see a boy walking away from you with leisure towards what you thought might be an exit, but you couldn’t be sure.
“Umm… Excuse me!” you surprised yourself with saying, but the boy only glanced over his shoulder and kept walking.
You dashed towards him this time, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I don’t know where 27B is and I’ve been looking for 15 minutes, and I don’t want to be late on my first day.” This time the boy turned around and looked at you with a mix of boredom and the smallest bit of amusement.
“You’re looking for 27B?” you nodded your head as you glanced at the piece of paper to the rooms around you, back to the boy.
“You’re on the wrong floor,” he said with a little more amusement showing.
“Oh…” the embarrassment evident on your face, “Well I guess that explains why I can’t find it. Anyways, thanks, and I’m y/n”
“Connor”
“Well, thanks, Connor and I’ll see you around? I don’t really know anybody and you’re the only conversation I’ve had with someone at the school who doesn’t work here”
“See you around,” he shrugged “I guess, but I wouldn’t plan on it.”

With that short-lived conversation, you were off to your first class. All the classes seemed to drag on, with teachers mindlessly going on about formulas that you wouldn’t remember in a week. As it does at every school the lunch bell rang, and it was time for what you pictured hell as :a lunchroom. Kids scuttle around trying to find a table that would get the most attention from the people they want to impress, and others take it as time catch up on homework in clusters of others as a form of protection. You on the other hand used this time to find a group that would keep you safe, I mean high school kids are mean. You settled on a group of girls that seemed nice enough and spent your lunch smiling at the right time, laughing when needed, and making the right comments so that the girls at the table said they could tell you would fit right in with them.

The next week was fine enough. You made some friends that you could eat lunch with, gossip about the teacher’s new haircut with and text for help on Algebra homework.  You even decided on trying out for the cheerleading team, which you made. It seemed as if the mask you perfected was working like a dream.
On the Monday of your second week, the girls you ate lunch with were all busy. A few had lunch detention, while others had the weekly student council meeting. With nowhere to go for lunch, you wandered on the lawn by the football field, where you spotted the familiar face of Connor, the boy who you met on your first day. Picking up your pace you walked over to him and sat down across from him and pulled out your lunch.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked with annoyance rising in him.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m about to eat lunch with you,” you replied taking a bite out of your sandwich.
“I know what the fuck you’re doing. Why are you eating here?” he said this time getting angrier. “It might seem like a funny joke to eat with the freak, but this freak prefers to eat alone, so leave.”
The anger in his voice made you jump, but you didn’t get up.
“Why would eating with you be a joke? And I’m not leaving, I don’t have anyone to eat with and this freak likes eating with people,”
“Yeah well have fun by yourself,” he said as he picked his bag up and stomped away. You watched him walk away, the surprise evident on your face. Why had he thought you were trying to be mean? Why was he so defensive? All of these questions rattled in your mind as you walked back to the school building.

After cheer practice, you went with some of the girls to get frozen yogurt just around the block.
“Do you know anything about some kid at school named Connor?” you asked as everyone took a seat.
“Which Connor?” one girl answered.
“Well he’s tall, has long hair, really pretty eyes actually-,”
“You mean psychopath Connor? He’s a total freak. He has some major issues, but his sisters nice. I’d stay away from him if I were you, if people see you near him they might get the wrong idea,” and with that the subject changed to who was the best kisser on the football team.

The next day during lunch you told your friends that you had to do work with a teacher at lunch. Instead, you went back to the lawn from yesterday and sat next to Connor once again.
“Again? Really? I thought I made myself clear,” Connor said as flipped the page in the book he was reading.
“I’m not the best with listening to directions,” you said smiling at him this time.
“Your friends still busy or some shit?”
“No, I just wanted to eat with you,” Connor finally looked up from his book in surprise, but quickly went back to his annoyed face. You two spent the rest of lunch in silence together, him reading, and you eating your sandwich.

The two of you eating lunch together continued. With your persistent talking Connor eventually replied with more than one-word answers, and soon your daily lunch together became something you looked forward to.
“So what about ‘Fahrenheit 451’?”
“Well I did read that one, but only after I watched the movie and had turned in my essay”
“Well fuck, and you still got an A?” you nodded laughing looking at the amazement that had settled on his face.
“I am impressed, that takes real skill to bullshit your way through English class so well,” he said slowly clapping. You dramatically bowed as you walked over to the lawn together. Connor had started waiting for you by the bleachers so you could walk to lunch together, but he denied that he was waiting for you.
“It was a needed skill. Sometimes my family would move and the new teachers would automatically want an essay the next day from a book I’ve never read.”
“Well that sucks,”
“I guess it does, but I’ve gotten used to it. I’ve gotten used to it all,”
“You shouldn’t have to get used to it. Why aren’t you mad at your parents? I would be so fucking furious, and you just smile about it all,” you laughed as he said this while sitting down under a tree.
“I don’t get to be mad. This is what my family does. Besides I would sound so horrible if I got angry at my dad, the man who served three tours in Iraq, the man who risks his life for America,” you said as you pulled large clumps of grass from the ground,
“But sometimes I just want a dad, an actual dad, not some war hero, but someone who tells me to change shorts because they are too short, a dad who says cheesy jokes, not some man who lives in the same house as me, but is a billion miles away because he has no idea who I am.” You started throwing the clumps of grass you had uprooted. You glanced over at Connor who looked conflicted.
“What?” you asked abruptly aware of how loud you had gotten. In an instant Connor suddenly hugged you. His arms were long and lanky around you, but somehow you felt safe. His body smelled like coconut, probably from shampoo, and his heart beat somehow sounded beautiful. He let go of you, a second later, and the hug had felt like a million years and less than a millisecond at the same time. You looked up at him and he was looking anywhere, but your eyes.
“Thanks,” you whispered, “I really needed that.” Connor mumbled out a response along the lines of ‘no –problem’.

After that day you were painfully aware of Connor. You were aware of every step he took and how he kept his hands in his pockets, and scratched at his jeans when he got angry over something small, and how when you made a bad pun he would roll his eyes, but smile slightly. It seemed like all at once everything about Connor was magical and you would count down the minutes until lunch with him, and it seemed Connor was thinking the same thing.
“So I was uhmm-well I was think-no that’s no right,” Connor mumbled about a month and a half after your first lunch together, “I was thinking that we could hang out outside of school.” Connor looked down at you trying to hide the nerves that he felt asking. The nerves were evident on his face though as he watched you reply.
“I’d love to,” you said simply, but the smile on your face said it all. You were ecstatic; finally, you would spend more than the designated time at lunch together.

You and Connor had settled it and decided that you would hang out that Saturday and work on English homework together at your house since Connor said that his parents would be all weird about it. Finally, Saturday arrived, and the nerves you had denied were obvious as you paced your room trying to figure out which shirt to wear knowing they were basically the same shirt. Little did you know that Connor was also pacing his room trying to decide if he should wear a black shirt or grey shirt. Of course, Zoe found this hilarious and Connor, being too nervous to yell, allowed Zoe to help him chose a shirt. They settled on grey, Zoe saying that it showed that he wore more than black.
Connor showed up on time and you couldn’t help but smile at the fact that he was an actual friend, even though you wanted more, but he was somebody who you didn’t feel the need to wear your mask around, with him you could just exist.
“Uhmm, we can go hang out in my room if you want,” you asked motioning towards a hallway.
“Sure, but your parents will be okay with me in your room?” he asked as you opened the door to your room.
“Oh, they don’t really care what I do, and if they did they aren’t ever home to enforce the  rules they have.” With that you sat on your bedroom floor and pulled out your English books, but they were quickly forgotten when you started talking. Within minutes of talking the subject turned to Connor’s family.
“I don’t know. It’s just like I’m the fucking black sheep. I just want them to look at me and not be ashamed of their son,” Connor huffed as you lay side by side on your floor looking at the blank ceiling.
“I’m sure they aren’t ashamed”
“You don’t even know them, you can’t be sure”
“But I know you,” you said pushing yourself into a sitting position.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means you are the last person anyone could be ashamed of. You have this wonderful mind that anyone would be lucky to know about, you are the fastest reader I know, you pretend to hate others, but you are so incredibly caring, and you are my favorite person and the only one who knows me.”
Suddenly Connor pushes himself up.
“Bullshit. You have friends and I’m just a pity friend and we both know it,” Connor said. You knew you hit a chord in him. Whenever you said nice things about him he automatically thought it was a lie, no matter how many times you promised it was the truth. It pained you to think that somebody you cared for as much as Connor didn’t know that you did.
“Now that’s bullshit Connor. We both know that it’s fake with everyone, except for you! I put this mask on so I blend in, stay alive, and make it until the next school,” you took a breath and moved closer to Connor as you started speaking again.
“You’re the exception, with you it’s all real. I don’t have to pretend life is okay, or pretend I care about school drama. With you I’m just me, and with me I think you are just you.” Connor stayed silent for a minute after that.
“If we’re being honest and shit right now,” Connor spoke softly, “People don’t like the real me, but for some reason you do, the angry parts and everything, so I guess  don’t need a mask with you.” You looked at Connor and saw how scared he was, of being alone again, of being rejected. You knew that this was truly him without the façade that he had perfected over time.
“Connor,” you spoke softly. He took his gaze off the floor and looked at you. You slowly put your hands on the side of his face and brought your lips to his. He still smelled of coconut, but you were more concentrated on the feeling of his lips on yours. The surprise of you kissing him quickly wore off and he kissed you back as if it were life or death. His chapped lips melted into your and his hands found your waist as he pulled you closer. Too quickly the kiss ended as you both needed air.
“I hope it was okay I kissed you,” you softly laughed.
“It’s more than okay. I hope it’s okay that I don’t want to stop kissing you,” he replied as he went back to your lips for another kiss.

You May Say That I’m A Dreamer

Fandom Writing Challenge | envydean
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Destiel
Prompt: Ice Skating
Word Count: 2,362
Summary: Dean’s been a fan of the men’s figure skating for as long as he can remember. He’s always been fascinated by how the contestants move on the ice, contort their elegant bodies into beautiful positions and land each jump with grace – not that anyone at school knows this, they only know Dean as the tough-man soccer player. When Dean’s favourite under twenty-one’s figure skater transfers to his school, sparks fly.

[AO3]


Dean glances at the clock in the corner of his laptop screen only for a spark of panic to shoot through him. There’s still seven minutes left of the YouTube catch up video he’s watching and he wants to finish it, except that will make him late for school. Four lates in a row and he’ll end up getting a detention which means he’ll be even later watching the video. Dean wishes it would be a simple choice, school or men’s figure skating semi-finals.

Dean growls as he hits the pause button before slamming his laptop harder than he intended. He’ll watch it after school, he decides he would rather wait than get yelled at by his dad for the late mark letter he’ll no doubt receive. Dean grabs his backpack and heads down stairs before locking the door behind him and walking the well-known route to school.

*

There’s barely anyone around when he arrives, only the last few people filing into their classes for the start of the day. His English class is, unfortunately on the other side of the school grounds and he makes a dash for it. Mr. Crowley isn’t Dean’s number one fan in the first place and Dean doesn’t want to get into his bad books when he’s in his final year of high school.

When Dean sneaks into class, there’s none of the usual hustle and bustle that he’s used to at the start of the lesson. Instead, the class is silent and they’re all looking to the front of the class. For a moment, Dean wonders if all eyes are really on him and when he looks to the front, he’s expecting Mr. Crowley’s glare.

Except, he’s met with strikingly familiar blue eyes.

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rebelcaptain AU || The Lake House

↳ Requested by anon

In 2017, Dr. Cassian Andor puts his lake house in the small town of Yavin, Wisconsin, up for rent. He’s moving to Chicago to start work at Chicago General Hospital in its ER. As he leaves, he places a note in the mailbox for the next tenant, asking her to forward his mail. “Sometimes the mail around here can be unreliable,” he adds. “And some things might slip through the cracks. Please also note,” he adds, “the paint-embedded paw prints in the walkway were already there when I arrived.”

The letter gets to the next tenant. Except it gets to her in 2015, on the day before Valentine’s Day, and she’s already been living there for the past year. Unfolding the letter in the walkway to the house, architect Jyn Erso says aloud, “Paw prints?” and sees nothing when she searches at her feet. But as she scoffs, a dog runs by, leaving fresh paw prints exactly where Cassian said they would be.

“How did you know that?” she says to Cassian, but of course, he cannot hear her. Instead, she writes him a letter asking him how, forwarding it to the address he left. Jyn mails it and soon forgets about it. She goes to bed. She goes to work the next day. She tries not to think about her estranged father, Galen, who designed and built the lake house for her late mother, Lyra.

On a surprisingly warm Valentine’s Day in 2017, Cassian has lunch with his colleague, Dr. Kay, in Daley Plaza, where they witness a car accident. A woman dashing through traffic is struck by a bus, and Cassian rushes over, trying to save her. But she dies in his arms.

This death hits Cassian hard, and for whatever reason, he is compelled to write Jyn back.

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