it frustrates me that he doesn't like to show off his great body

anonymous asked:

not necessarily a request, but how do you think jumin feels about saeran? I've only really seen imagine blogs do HCs about how saeran feels abt jumin/other rfa members, not the other way around. tbh my heart hurts when I think abt them bc jumin doesn't seem to show any resentment or bitterness at all, even though he's doing so much to help protect the person who killed his best friend. jumiiiin ;-;

Alright so I know you didn’t say it wasn’t a request but I loved this idea so much! Jumin really is an amazing person to be so kind towards Saeran after all that happened, I really admire him for that! I was really inspired to write a little fic about Jumin’s feelings towards Saeran, so I hope that’s okay! This is such a good idea anonny, I really hope that you enjoy!! ^^

Jumin’s heart shattered the second he saw V’s bloody body laying limply on the floor. He would silently weep as he held V’s cold body in his arms, gazing sadly at his best friend. When everyone was out of the building, Jumin would insist on carrying V out himself, he wanted to hold his friend close to him one more time. Jumin would stare coldly at Saeran as he was taken away to a hospital, feeling pure hatred for the younger boy.

V’s funeral weighed heavily on Jumin’s heart, he felt his chest throb with the pain of loss. He never realized how much of an impact V had made on him. Jumin looked at V one more time before they lowered him into the ground where he would sleep for eternity. 

Jumin would go home everyday from work despising Saeran for what he did to V. One day, Jumin was walking through the hospital to meet with the director when he glanced at Saeran’s room. He saw him lashing out at Saeyoung, refusing to take his medication. Disgusting. What a mess of a human. Jumin thought to himself as he rolled his eyes walking past the room. 

Seeing Saeran brought up haunting memories as Jumin walked through his front door. All Jumin wanted to do was go out for drinks with V and listen to his friend chat about photos or something casual. Frustration built up within Jumin as he pulled at his dark hair, tears of anger welled up in his eyes as he started throwing things at his bedroom wall. 

But he stopped when he was about to throw a photo of himself and V. Jumin clutched the photo to his chest as he slid down to the floor and let his tears freely flow down his cheeks and onto the photo. Dammit V, why did you have to leave me so soon? Jumin thought to himself as he smiled sadly at the photo of him and his blue haired friend. 

From that moment on, Jumin knew that V would be mad at him for being cruel to Saeran. Deep down, Jumin knew it wasn’t his fault, that Rika contorted his mind. V would want Jumin to be happy and understanding of Saeran. So Jumin took a deep breath and internally forgave Saeran. 

At the next RFA party, Jumin straightened his jacket as he looked around at all of the guests. He saw Saeran standing off in the corner, looking anxiously away from all of the guests as he awkwardly held onto his arm. 

Without thinking, Jumin took a few long strides to Saeran. Offering him a glass of water and a small smile saying “Here, I think you need this.” Saeran mumbled a thank you as he took some sips, still not looking Jumin in the eyes. 

“Believe or not, I was nervous during my first RFA party too. But don’t worry, you’re doing great Saeran.” Jumin said as he gazed stoically at the guests. 

“I-I’m so sorry Jumin. F-for everything.” Saeran said as his voice cracked and hands shaking. Jumin smiled gently as he placed his larger hand over Saeran’s shaky ones. Saeran looked up at Jumin with teary eyes ready to keep apologizing but Jumin cut him off 

“It’s alright Saeran. I know you’re not at fault for what happened in the past. I want us to understand and accept each other. So Saeran, will you be my friend?” Jumin said even though he felt that last sentence was silly. 

Saeran gave a small smile and nodded saying “I’d really like for us to be friends. Thank you Jumin, for everything.” 

The two men chatted for most of the party, both of them starting to get a better understanding of each other. By the end of the night, Jumin and Saeran had agreed to go out for lunch someday to continue their discussion. 

As Jumin was driven home, he stared out the window at the starry sky. He closed his eyes and smiled contently, sincerely happy that him and Saeran were finally getting along. 

You can rest easy now Jihyun, I promise to take care of all of them, including Saeran. Jumin said to his decreased friend as he dozed off while recalling happy memories of himself and V.

au for @everythingelsegoesherethen: dean winchester owns the marauders’ map and uses it to make sure he and castiel always ‘accidentally’ meet at strange times.

Since he became a Prefect at the beginning of his fifth year, Castiel Novak has dealt with a lot of troublemakers who clearly just haven’t read the Hogwarts rulebook.

Dean Winchester is not one of these.

Dean Winchester is clever. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s read the handbook and

And he never, ever gets caught.

Which is why Castiel is confused when he apprehends Dean for the third time in a month, trying unsuccessfully to get into a secret passage out of the school that Cas /knows he knows exactly how to access. And yet he’s tapping all over the one-eyes witch with his wand, cluelessly trying every combination of “Let me in!” that he can, acting for all the world as though he’s under some kind of Confundus charm.

He turns the light of his wand on Dean, and Dean turns around, doing a very good job of pretending to be startled.

“Dean Winchester?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” the boy grins, blushing and looking down at the floor but not seeming at all upset that he’s just been caught breaking five school rules at once.

“Yes, well, you’re out of bed after lights out, you’re messing with school property and you’re using magic in the corridors.” Cas is a little flustered and he can’t even explain why, but he still manages to tick at least some of the offenses off on his fingers.

“I /am? Oh, man, Cas, I’m so sorry. And I promise you it won’t happen again.” Dean is all mock-apologetic as he claps Cas on the shoulder and starts to walk away down the corridor.

“F-five points from Gryffindor!” Cas calls after him in a shaky voice.

This becomes a recurring problem. The following week, Cas runs into Dean in the restricted section of the library without a note giving him permission to be there. A few days later, he catches Dean in the act when he’s just about to set off a whole box of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes fireworks. Another time, he finds Dean on the Quidditch pitch after dark when it’s supposed to be locked up, flying loops just to show off. Sometime after that, Cas goes to take a bath in the Prefects’ bathroom at the end of a long day, and he finds the tub already overflowing with bubbles, Dean in a pair of red swimming shorts lazily swimming laps.

And for some reason it’s always harder for Cas to keep his cool around Dean that it is around anyone else. Usually he’ll dole out detentions without even blinking;the whole school respecting his authority, but something about this kid has him barely remembering the name of the red and gold house that he’s supposed to be taking points from. It /irks him, because he was given the Prefect position for a /reason, and he’s supposed to be unbiased and impartial and above such things.

After all this has been going on for a good few months, and Cas is no closer to figuring out what exactly is going on in Dean Winchester’s unfairly pretty head, he finds a piece of parchment on the floor. It’s on his normal patrol route, but not on a main corridor - it’s on one of the back routes that only Cas is responsible for walking down on his shift after lights out. It’s placed right in the middle of the corridor where Cas is guaranteed to see it. Almost as though it was left especially for him.

He picks it up. It looks blank at first, but when he unfolds it, he sees that it’s a map - an incredibly detailed map of the whole of Hogwarts castle, every room drawn, Cas believes, perfectly to scale, labelled in calligraphy, every secret passage and hidden entryway marked. Not only that, but the map is enchanted, constantly moving, staircases twisting their way through the halls in what Cas suspects is real time, and most importantly of all, tiny sets of footprints making their way through the castle halls, each with a name attached to them. Cas spots his own name next to his own footprints, which are still in the exact spot that he’s in.

He takes a step forward, and the footprints move with him.

Most of the spots are clustered in the common rooms and dormitories at this time of night; just a few Prefects and professors wandering up and down the corridors. But Cas has a sneaking suspicion he knows who this map belongs to, and the person doesn’t seem to be in the Gryffindor boys’ dormitories where he should be. Against his will, Cas finds his eyes skating over the map, looking for the potential offender.

Dean Winchester’s spot is pacing the Tallest Astronomy Tower.

Of course, none of this necessarily means that the map /actually corresponds to where people actually are. It could just be an example. Could be everyone is placed randomly and doesn’t move, no matter where they really are.

Which, of course, explains why Cas is already walking purposefully towards the Astronomy tower, taking each set of stairs two at a time, checking the map every few seconds to make sure Dean is still in the same place.

He reaches the door to the tower, and he’s not even completely conscious of why he’s doing it, but he runs a hand through his hair to fluff it up and he straightens his blue and bronze tie before he walks inside.

Dean’s there, as predicted, no longer pacing but standing in the center of the room - waiting for him? The tower is open to the heavens - not like the Great Hall, not like an enchanted version of the sky, but actually open, the summer night stars glinting down and reflecting off of magical lights that have been conjured and left to hover all around the edge of the circular tower room, a light breeze ruffling Cas’ robes as he steps towards Dean, noticing that the usually bare wooden floor is scattered with large, puffy gold and bronze cushions.

Cas holds out the map. “I think this is yours.”

Dean takes it from him, not at all surprised to see Cas there. “Don’t think it’s really anyone’s. Thing kind of has a mind of its own. But yes, I’ve been using it for a while.”

“Tell me something?” Cas asks. “You just admitted this is yours. With this you can see anyone coming at any time, you can always stay one step ahead of any professor or prefect, you never have to get found out by anyone. But you keep letting me catch you. Why?“

"That depends,” Dean says with a smirk. “Why’d you bring the map back instead of handing it into a professor? Seems like it’s a contraband object. Seems like I /should get in trouble.”

Cas opened his mouth to retort to that, but realized he didn’t have anything to say. Why /had he come here? Dean was right, after all. His first instinct, as a Prefect with designs on Head Boy at some point in the future, should have been to turn the object over to a member of staff. His mind shouldn’t even necessarily have jumped to Dean. But it had, and now he was here.

“Alright. That aside, why’d you wait for me? Why’d you pick a specific place, here, that you have /no reason to be and just pace around hoping I’d show up to find you?”

Dean spluttered, but quickly recovered. “Why’d you look for me on the map? Why’d you stare at it for so long that you saw where I was in the first place?”

“Why’d you decorate? The stars, the lights, the cushions? Why’d you set this all up for a special occasion?”

They stared at each other for a while, breathing heavily, waiting for the other one to be the first to break.

Cas cracked, and Dean gave up at the same moment, and then he both of them were lunging towards each other, Dean grabbing Cas by the tie he’d just straightened, pulling it askew, Cas fisting both of his hands in Dean’s robes, both yanking the other towards them, crashing their lips together so hard that it was almost painful when they met, their bodies falling into each other, their teeth clashing and their noses bumping and when they pull apart, they both tumble down onto the pile of cushions they’ve set up and /now Cas understands why they’re there, /now it makes sense because their landing is soft and they can reach for each other again immediately, both of them lying on their sides in the heap of fluffy pillows, kissing each other over and over and over again, each one making their lips tingle. Over time, as they grow used to the feeling, the kisses become slower, softer, more languid, and the hooded eyes when they pull away from each other are less from desire and more from tiredness, and they’re both sure they’d be happy to sleep here.

"So, what? You’ve been risking detention and house points for Gryffindor and your reputation as someone who never gets caught just to… just to get my attention?” Cas asks finally, propping himself up on one elbow.

Dean tugs him back down and kisses him again. “Well, you’re risking your Prefect position right now. But I feel like you always have to risk a little something to get the best things in life.”

And between holding hands on long walks by the lake, between screaming themselves hoarse together at Quidditch matches, between feeding each other Bertie Botts’ Every Flavour Beans while studying in the library, and between many, many more long nights in the Astronomy tower, Cas learns that as frustrating and complicated as he is; Dean is definitely one of the best things in his life.

anonymous asked:

how about one where you/reader just joined the team and buck has a crush and cap says for him (buck) to act on it but he's all self loathing because he doesn't want to make anyone else put up with his crap so he just admires you from afar

Word Count: 1,458 (omg what even)
Warnings: mentions of torture, brainwashing
request here

“You know,” Steve nudges his arm, “you could always just go talk to her.”

Bucky breaks himself away from looking at you across the room to sardonically look at his best friend, “You know, you could actually touch my human arm, that way I actually feel you attempting to be my wing man.”

Keep reading

The one where he doesn't support your hobby (dancing) (Louis imagine)

When you came home to the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, Louis Tomlinson, after dance rehearsals, you found him on the sofa, writing lyrics for new songs of One Direction. You kissed him hello on his lips and you sat yourself next to him. ‘I have tickets for our show next week.’ You mentioned. He didn’t look up from his papers and just nodded slightly. ‘I’d like you to come, Lou…’ You said again, pulling his arm a bit. ‘Yes. Buy a ticket for me then.’ He said, not sounding interested at all. You sighed and stopped trying. You jumped off the couch. And finally Louis looked up. ‘Where are you going?’ He questioned. You turned around to him again, hands on your waist, probably looking frustrated. ‘I’m going to call some friends who are hopefully more interested in getting a ticket for my dance show, than my boyfriend is.’ It went always like this and it was something you hated about Louis. He didn’t support your hobby at all. ‘Com’n babe… Of course I like to come.’ He said, standing up from the sofa and walking towards you. ‘It’s just that I’m not a big fan of it. I mean, people are just doing some simple dance moves. It’s all the same… You can use the same steps over and over again. Writing music, for example, is much more creative. You can’t touch people with dancing, the way you touch people with music.’ With every word he made it worse. He was completely ruining the night now. ‘Well, don’t bother coming then, Louis. Forget what I said. I don’t even want you to be there.’ You snapped at him, turning your back at him and leaving the room.

You didn’t spoke to him for the whole night. He tried of course, but you didn’t give in. You gave him the silent treatment until the next morning. And even then it was hard for you to act normal again. You hated it that he was so negative over the one thing you absolutely loved doing. You danced for about ten years now. You did a lot of styles: hip hop, modern, ballet, jazz. You’d learned a lot and even got the chance to learn children your knowledge. You were a dance teacher for about a year now and you loved doing it in your spare time. But you gave Louis what he wanted. You didn’t say anything about your show again. Even the day of the recital you didn’t mention it once. You left early in the morning for the last rehearsals, and you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him a note or anything. During the day you got texts from him to ask you where you were, but you didn’t respond. He didn’t deserve it actually. You were always there, supporting him, being there for him. Always. And he didn’t even try to do the same thing for you.

When the concert started you promised yourself to forget about the situation at home and focusing on what you loved so much: dancing. You had several routines to perform. You even got a modern solo. And you loved dancing that piece. It was something where you could bring all your emotions to the surface. It was, ironically enough, about ups and downs in a relationship, and especially now… You could relate to that. And when your class had to perform, you were hell of proud of them. They did awesome. You still had to dance with them from backstage, but the public didn’t notice at all. They did great!

When the show was over, you made sure to undo yourself from your dance clothes and put your normal clothes back on, before you went outside, ready to go meet some friends you had invited. They were all so nice and positive about the show. It warmed your heart. But you still missed one opinion, one person, one supporter who wasn’t here. And it hurt.

An hour later you arrived at home and when you entered the living room, Louis was sitting in front of his laptop. He looked up when you appeared. You figured he would be mad, because you didn’t answer any of his texts, but instead he said nothing. He just walked over to you and pulled you into a hug. ‘I missed you today…’ He whispered into your hair. And you hated it how he could make your frustrating feelings go away by just four little words. So you hugged him back. You just could not not hug him back. ‘I have this thing here…’ He started speaking, grabbing your hand and leading you towards his laptop on the table. ‘Something that really inspired me today.’ He said when he opened a video on his screen and pressed the play button. To your surprise, you saw yourself. You saw yourself dancing. It was a complication of all the dance routines you did today. Even your own class was added into the video. ‘Where did you get this from?’ You asked him confused, when it was over. ‘I made it myself.’ He smiled, and you were in shock. ‘You-… What?- How?-,’ You stuttered, not understanding what he tried to say. But he made you go silent by putting his finger onto your lips and he started talking himself. ‘You didn’t mention your show anymore. And I noticed. I figured you didn’t buy me a ticket so I did it myself. I was there, earlier. I watched you. And baby… I have never felt more proud in my life than during the whole show. I was completely wrong about dancing not touching people. Because it touched me from the first note, from the first move. You touched me. You inspired me today. And I bet you inspired the rest of the public and your kids. The way you move. The way you feel the music in your body. The way you tell your feelings to the people in the room. That’s just… amazing. I have no words to describe it. You were more than extraordinary.’ He said while his eyes where focused on you. And with every word your heart lit up more and more. He was the one person you needed to hear this from. And now he said it, you felt complete. There was nothing you wanted more than his blessing on this passion of yours. And it was not like he was ever going to get you stop. But having his support meant everything. And you had that now. And it felt more than great. So you kissed his lips and wrapped your arms around him, whispering a soft thank you in between the kisses you gave him. This day couldn’t end more perfect than it actually did.