it's not like i looked forward to seeing that movie with you all week or anything

Mouth o’ Mine

Harry X Reader: Angst, smut

In which Harry’s no good with his words but he sure is good with his mouth.

Request? Yes:

some harry face sitting action maybe?

Author’s note: This is a continuation of “Mess o’ Mine.” I would suggest reading that first, if you haven’t already. I thought this was gonna be the end but then I fucked up so… there’s also a part 3. Hope you enjoy! I did!

Part 1: Mess o’ Mine // Part 3: Mind o’ Mine


You’ve been running through the events that have occurred, confused at the escalation and the outcome. No issues have been resolved, and there wasn’t really a conversation or discussion. You don’t know any more than you did when you heard Harry singing your poems. Has he used your writing in more songs on his album?  Has he read your whole journal? God, you hope not. One poem is bad enough.

Harry hasn’t been around, hasn’t tried calling for the two weeks since he showed up on your doorstep. You’ve flipped the channel whenever he shows up on your television and scrolled at record speed when he’s popped up on your social media feeds. Maybe you should feel relieved and cleansed of his toxicity, but you don’t. Instead, you feel a little broken, like your stomach is splintering into pieces, and your mind still feels split open. Not only that, but you can smell him, feel the weight of him on top of you, taste the foreign flavor of his mouth. This isn’t what you need.

A whole other wave of confusion has rolled over you in terms of your relationship with Harry, if there still is one. The two of you have crossed a line without any prior thought or contemplation. Years upon years of friendship have been threatened, and you’re not even sure how it happened. Why did he kiss you? How did the two of you end up in bed, naked between the sheets? If you were confused about it before, trying to figure things out has only worsened your introspection.

Keep reading

@c2ndy2c1d jack and johnny watching a scary movie

YOU GOT IT BABE. I have this weird au headcanon that Jack went back to the past–but only to Johnny’s timeline, and he’s stuck there. So I ran with it. Sidenote that I know it’s canon that Johnny is “afraid of very little save for clowns” but for my purposes he get spooked by anything “scary”


There was a strange sense of exhaustion weighing heavily over Jack’s shoulders as he stepped through the threshold of his and Johnny’s small apartment. 

Keep reading

What’s Yours is Mine

Summary: Sam and Dean enjoy sharing each other’s clothes.

Warning: Smut, blow jobs, anal sex

Word Count: 3150

A/N: I enjoyed writing this request so much! Hope you all like it, too! XOXO


Sam’s been wearing Dean’s hand-me-down clothes since he was born. In every one of Dean’s childhood memories, he can see Sam wearing his old clothes, sleeves too long, waistbands too loose, stray threads sticking out at the seams.

But when Sam hits puberty, they start fitting almost perfectly. Sam’s a little skinnier than Dean, but it never really shows in the clothing. Proper fit didn’t stop Sam from hating them, though.

Keep reading

Smut hoe is back? *temporarily*

Yall….

I’ve been working on this fic for like ever. and I never finished it.  And tonight  decided to. The *smutty* part isnt that good but whatever. I did it.

“Bottled up”

You x Jackson Wang (GOT7) 

Feat best friend Bam Bam (non-sexual friendship)

Rated M 

Smut

One Shot.

*Disclaimer*: If you dont like smut dont read it.  Just dont do it. 

“You didn’t have to pay for my flight! What the hell Bam!” You yelled on the phone with your best friend Bam Bam.  You had discovered a notification in your email that your round trip to Thailand was booked. Only you didn’t book anything yet.

“Just think of it as a late birthday present,” He said laughing.” “I can afford it love.”

“Yeah but you know I’ve been saving up to come to Thailand! I got the money silly.”

“Use it to go shopping!” He said, chuckling in the phone.  You hated when Bam Bam paid for you. Especially because you work.  Sure he was your best friend and an idol, but you didn’t want to use him for his money. Your eyes rolled. You wanted to make it up to him but had no idea how. The boy had everything. He was the fashion king so you couldn’t buy him a new outfit. He’s already ahead of the fashion game.

Keep reading

Absolution

Author: @sebastianstandoffish

Pairing: Reader (She/Her) x Steve

Summary: Steve has to come to terms with his mistakes, and maybe learn how to grow from them.

Word Count: 3,638

Category: Angst/Fluff

Warnings: Cursing like a sailor, Anxiousness, Mentions of injury, blood, etc.

A/N: It’s been a long time, friends! I sat down and actually finished this baby. I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. Hope you enjoy!


A rough mission gone south is all it took to push them that far, yanked at their muscles and their sanity until they snapped. It was a brutal fight, the first real one they’d had in a long time, full of precisely sharpened words, ones that would surely strike deep.

Funny, the damage you can do when you love someone, when you know them so well that you have access to the deepest, darkest places in their soul.

Keep reading

🎶🎶When You Collect Records🎶🎶
  • Hipster: *moves dusty old boxes out of the way* Whoa, an old record player. It looks like it's in working order too! *runs outside*
  • Hipster: Yo, dad!
  • Dad: What?
  • Hipster: We're getting rid of all of poppop's stuff, right?
  • Dad: There's something you want, isn't there?
  • Hipster: There's this old stereo record player in the attic.
  • Dad: What do you need a record player for?
  • Hipster: My record collection.
  • Dad: I didn't even know they still made those things. Can't you just listen to music on your phone?
  • Hipster: Dad, there's a big difference between listening to music digitally and on record.
  • Dad: Fine, I don't wanna get into it with you right now. You can take the record player. You just have to get someone else to take it to your place for you. My truck's full.
  • Hipster: Thanks dad! *smooches dad on the cheek*
  • *later at hipster's apartment*
  • Friend: So, like Patch Adams ends with Patch Adams half-naked in front of a ton of people. I don't know if it was meant to be funny or like a weird sex thing, but like the movie was just a deeply disturbing character study. I can't stop thinking about it.
  • Hipster: That sounds boring. *unlocks door to apartment* Ta-da! Here it is! My new record player!
  • Friend: New? Looks fucking old to me, dude.
  • Hipster: Well, it is old. That's the appeal. And we're going to listen to the new Sufjan record on it.
  • Friend: Is that actually how you say Sufjan? Apparently, I've been pronouncing it wrong this whole time.
  • Hipster: Well, you won't after this record. There's an entire track where he just says his name for four minutes. It's amazing. *plays records*
  • Record Player: *coughs* Hello. Hello! Where am I? Doctor? Hello! Why is it so dark...............................Can I breathe? I can't breath. Oh god, I'm not breathing! Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god! I.....................................
  • Hipster: Uh, that's not Sufjan.
  • Friend: It totally isn't. Is it some guest vocalist? I like the new direction he's going in. No instruments or singing, and long stretches of silence. Very experimental.
  • Hipster: *stops record player* I think maybe we should do something else for now.
  • Friend: Fucking lame! I wanted to listen to more Sufjan.
  • *days later at the record store*
  • Hipster: Yo, I think the Sufjan Stevens record I bought from here might be some kind of mispress.
  • Store Clerk: Really? It's a pretty major album. I doubt there'd just be a mispress like that.
  • Hipster: Yeah, but listen to it. It's not Sufjan at all. It's some girl talking.
  • *hipster and clerk listen to a completely normal Sufjan Stevens album together*
  • Store Clerk: What are you talking about? This is definitely Sufjan Stevens.
  • Hipster: Okay, but it wasn't like that when I listened to it at home! I even listened to it with my friend and he heard the same thing!
  • Store Clerk: Maybe there's something wrong with your record player.
  • Hipster: Hmm, maybe there is.
  • *back at the apartment*
  • Hipster: *turns on record player and just listens*
  • Record Player: ...I'm awake again. Why did I black out? Did I even black out? God, I'm not breathing, but it doesn't matter. Why don't I need to breathe? Am I even alive?
  • Hipster: Can you hear me?
  • Record Player: Doctor. Doctor! DOCTOR! Why can't I move? Why can't I feel anything. Keep yourself together. It'll all make sense soon. Calm down. Just breathe deeply. Fuck, I can't breathe! AIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I CAN'T BREATHE! DOCTOR! DOCTOR! DOCTOR! HELP! HELP ME, PLEASE! I'M STUCK! I CAN'T MOVE! PLEASE HELP ME!
  • Hipster: *turns off record player* It's just a recording, I bet. I can't believe I talked to it like an idiot... *nervously turns record player back on*
  • Record Player: I blacked out again. I blacked out. For how long? Is there even time here? Hell. This is hell, right? Did I go to hell.........................................
  • Hipster: *listens to the record player for hours*
  • Record Player: Negative 6893 bottles of wine on the wall! Negative 6893 bottles of wine! Take one down, pass it around, Negative 6894 bottles of wine on the wall... fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME! AIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
  • Hipster: *keeps listening*
  • Record Player: Soul of Christ, make me holy, Body of Christ, be my salvation. God, please forgive me. I'm sorry for all of my sins. Please free me. I'm so sorry. Please. Please. Please.
  • Hipster: *still listening*
  • Record Player: FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! SHITTY DOCTOR! FUCK YOU! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! *sobs intensely* FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK EVERYTHING! Please just let me go.
  • Hipster: *nervously walks up to record player and lightly taps on it*
  • Record Player: ...A knock. A KNOCK! PLEASE HELP ME! I'M STUCK! PLEASE! *record player begins shake violently*
  • Hipster: *backs away in fear*
  • Record Player: HELP! HELP! HELP ME! PLEASE, IF SOMEONE'S THERE, HELP ME! HELP ME! I'M STUCK! GET ME OUT OF HERE, PLEASE!
  • Hipster: *unplugs record player*
  • Hipster: *gets hammer from the closet and begins to break apart record player*
  • Record Player: *drips red*
  • Hipster: W-What? *cracks front of record player open*
  • *rotting viscera falls from the record player*
  • Hipster: O-Oh... *stuffs viscera back into the record player and duct tapes over it*
  • Hipster: *turns record player back on*
  • Record Player: ...I can feel. It hurts. Why does it hurt now? Why does it hurt? Why? Why? Why? WHY!? WHY!? WHY!? *spurts blood through it speakers and begins to gurgle*
  • Record Player: *hops forward* Please just let me go. Please... please. I'll do anything. I just want to see you again. I'm so sorry. This isn't what I asked for. I'm so sorry. *hops forward again and comes unplugged*
  • Record Player: *tips over, bleeding heavily onto the carpet*
  • Hipster: *silently cleans up the mess*
  • *some time later*
  • Hipster: *calls dad* Hey, dad. Oh, nothing. Uh, I just need to borrow your truck, If not tonight sometime this week. I just need to get rid of something. No, no, that's fine, I can do it myself. Yeah, tomorrow morning is perfect. Thanks Love you too. Bye.
  • *the next afternoon*
  • Dad: So, what did you need to get rid of this morning?
  • Hipster: Nothing important. Just some old junk... Dad, what kind of person was poppop?
  • Dad: Well, he was only the greatest man I've known in my life. Really caring, dedicated to his family. When you were born he loved you so much. He was a bit of a loner, though. It took a lot to get him to open up. Even around me and your grandmother. He was a bit like you. Always a huge music lover.
  • Hipster: I see. Was he ever a doctor?
  • Dad: That's a weird thing to ask. Nope. He hated doctors. Didn't trust modern medicine one bit. It's ironic. His cancer probably wouldn't have gotten to him if he did. But, your poppop was always so stubborn.
  • Hipster: Oh, okay then.
  • *some days later*
  • Friend: New carpet?
  • Hipster: Yup, old one was ugly wasn't it. It was time for a change.
  • Friend: That's what I've been telling you! I'm glad you finally came to your senses. What happened to your record player, though?
  • Hipster: That thing? I threw it away. It was busted.
  • Friend: That sucks. Are you gonna buy a new one?
  • Hipster: No.
  • Friend: But you won't have anything to play your records on.
  • Hipster: Yeah, but I buy records because I want to support the artists. They're not really for listening. Besides, lossless is better. FLAC is the future.

Welp. Ended up doodling this little cinnamon roll instead of doing my overflowing mountain of HW
fuuuuuck me :’)
but anyway

a hint of Gramander because again, I’ve fallen into another fandom pit and I just can’t seem to claw my way out

but I thought I’d maybe write something for it
please don’t judge though, I’m pretty shit at writing and I’ve never done it before so here goes nothing
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Keep reading

amoralamusement  asked:

Hello, I always enjoy the work on this Tumblr. It's informative, interesting, and satisfying. Anyway, being an Ne dom like yourself, do you have any tips to not be overwhelmed by Ne a.k.a. How to Train Your Ne? I admit there are times when the ideas are buzzing and I yearn for stimulation then I become drained to the point of being physically tired.

Good timing, since I was just reading about Si-grips last night and realizing I basically live in one six months out of the year. :P

I’m not sure exactly what you mean, so I’ll cover all the bases I can think of.

There’s pretty much four stages in my life:

Ne-dom Extraordinaire: this is when you are the unbeatable monarch in your field, when you are on such a roll that not only do you finish your project ahead of the damn deadline, you went ahead and did sixteen other magnificent things that day too, just because your brain was on such a rush of SO MANY IDEAS. For example: you felt good about finishing your essay, so you wrote six movie reviews, four e-mails, 26 blog posts, and worked on your book to boot. And then you went to bed with a smile on your face because damn, I’m so fine.

Ne-dom Uninspired: this is when you feel “meh.” Not awesomesauce, not the lowest of the low, just plain MEH. Meh for a Ne-dom equals: semi-bored, semi-uninspired, semi-annoyed about it. Now, a sane person on this day goes and watches 24 episodes of ALIAS in a row to chill. Me, I FORCE myself to be ‘creative.’ And because I’m generally good at what I do, it comes out fine. Not knock your socks off stupendous, not awful, not even average, just fine. But it feels like dragging my brain through a cheese grater and I go to bed mad that my Ne-brain was lazy as hell today. Like, it’s supposed to be AMAZING all the time!!! What’s up with this?!

Ne-dom Bored-as-Hell: generally, this happens when your life is stagnant, or you are stuck on the same god-awful project for weeks, or your friends have not spoken to you in days, and you are so bored you can hardly stand it, but NOTHING appeals to you. You crave something, but don’t know what it is. You drag yourself through the work / school day like a fish on dry land, you scope the depths of depression, you maybe force yourself to do stuff, but it’s a clear indication that your Ne is STARVING TO DEATH. You must feed it. How? That’s up to you. Get in the car and drive. Go hang out with someone. Start learning something new. Read a book that you know you’ll hate, and blow your own mind by loving it. Try something totally, radically different.

Don’t be like me, and dye your hair purple and cut into a punk rock style. Although, God knows I looked adorable.

Ne-dom Work-a-Holic: also known as tunnel vision, also known as inferior Si grip, also known as the perfect way to make yourself exhausted at the end of the day. Picture a nice normal Ne being a freight train barreling through a tunnel at 976 miles per hour. Now picture a peasant maiden (or peasant lad, if that’s you’re thing) running out onto the tracks, and holding it in place for about 15 hours. It grinds to a halt, its wheels start to smoke, and the peasant maiden/lad is inching forward at, oh, about 6 miles per hour. Fast by her standards, slow by yours. Now imagine that’s what happens to your Ne, when you develop tunnel vision. All that power, going nowhere fast. Imagine the tremendous energy that just ground to a halt. The creeping subconscious despair of the engineer. You are both the peasant maiden/lad and the freight train. See the problem? You are ripping yourself apart. How’s that peasant maiden/lad going to feel at the end of the day?

Yup. Exhausted.

Now, what if that peasant maiden does this day after day for about a week?

Exhausted. Mental exhaustion, from holding back the train, forcing Ne to stay on one topic, or focus on “boring” things for days on end. Where’s the fun? Where’s the zany? Where’s the sarcasm and jokes and random connections? Hello, inferior Si. Obsessive compulsive, aren’t you? Fixated. BAD.

How to Train Your Ne:

1) Give yourself permission to stick to one idea for awhile.

I get it. You will have thousands of great ideas in a single lifetime, or maybe even a week. If you follow all of them right now, you will never finish anything. Do what I do: think about them, ponder them, don’t let them get too developed, and write down the ones you want to hold onto, put them in a jar, and… walk away with the biggest, shiniest, most exciting idea you just had. The others will keep. Let them stew in their juices. Focus on THIS IDEA.

2) Reward yourself for finishing things.

If you want to accomplish something, give your Ne what it wants – a challenge, and a reward. I used to motivate myself through “boring” tasks by setting time deadlines and writing like a bat out of hell, or dividing the task up into separate shorter parts that I can cross off after I do them. That shows me I am making progress. Right now, I’m sitting next to a half-crossed-off list of chapters in my book, which I am proof-reading / editing. Each time a pink line goes through someone’s name, I know I’m THIS MUCH CLOSER to finishing. THIS MUCH CLOSER to starting a NEW project. THIS MUCH CLOSER TO THAT PIECE OF CHOCOLATE I PROMISED MYSELF.

Ahem.

3) Accept that you cannot be at 110% all the time.

This may be hard for you to hear, but you’re a normal human being. You need sleep. You need rest. You need food. You need days off, and dates, and to go places, and be with people, and do things other than your job or your school or writing or whatever it is that occupies 90% of your time. Those normal things that a sensor can do without much fuss, wear you out. Tedious details wear you out. Planning wears you out. Keeping track of things wears you out. The temptation when this happens is to under-estimate what you, as a low Si, needs – which is a break. You tend to way overestimate what you can do in a single week, and sometimes you get way too much on your plate… so, if you know about things in advance that are going to “drain” your Ne, because it requires other, lower functions to be heavily used in your stack, plan to limit your interaction with those functions in excess of your responsibilities.

In other words, if you (me) have to do a bunch of tedious line-editing at work, it is not a good idea for me to come home and do… a bunch of tedious line-editing on my novel at the same time. That’s all Te/Si stuff.

Ne-stuff is… new ideas, new people, new philosophies, reading things that excite your mind and imagination and help you see things in a different way, or watching something new, or going somewhere where you can just be yourself. Your Ne cannot run on full power all the time, especially when you’re trying to hold back the freight train – so give yourself permission to take time off.

4) Pace yourself.

This piggybacks on the above, but as a Ne-dom, you way over-estimate how much you can do physically. Things like going places, driving for hours, being in crowds, walking long distances, etc., are tiring to someone with minimal sensing. Ne-doms need down time, to process their experiences. You are an introverted extrovert. Remember that, and give yourself down time. Try not to be out and about 24/7. But don’t stay home all the time either. That’s a cesspool of Ne-draining boredom waiting to happen.

5) Either do it right now or write it down.

My usual pattern is: get a good thought about 10pm. Then springboard into another idea. Then zip over that way for more ideas. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, telling myself to go to sleep, while thinking about everything I should talk about, investigate, or do in the morning. By morning, of course, either the ideas are all gone or I have lost any motivation to do them. Some of my best work is from dropping everything and doing it RIGHT NOW. Strike while the iron is hot, my dander is up, whatever. Some of my best short stories or articles came from getting up at 5am and pounding the keyboard. So, do it NOW… or write it down. If you write it down, you won’t have to try and remember it (also a chore for Ne).

The best things you can do for your Ne are the following:

  • Accept that this is who I am, and it’s okay.
  • Realize that mundane or tedious tasks drain your Ne
  • Let your mind wander
  • Give yourself permission to fantasize
  • Reward periods of the mundane with fun activities
  • Never let a week go by without planning something ‘fun’
  • Stimulate yourself with constant NEW things (books, movies, music)
  • Read a wide variety of things on a continual basis
  • Give yourself challenges and deadlines to beat
  • Make sure they are SHORT-TERM (you cannot stay too long)
  • Always have something in the immediate future to look forward to

Hope that helps.

(This week on tumblr has been DULL. Is it just me or is it dead?! Thank God for a new Doctor Who tomorrow! I need me some NEW Capaldi + Bill Potts. I totally want to be her best friend and hang out in space and eat blue cubes together.)

- ENFP Mod

Imagine Bangtan: Tattoo Artist & Piercer! Jeon Jungkook

Hey guys! So, this is going to be a different profession AU! for all of Bangtan~

I hope you enjoy it!!! 

Yoongi | Namjoon | Hoseok | Jimin | Yoongi | Taehyung

Originally posted by jeony

Okay so, this is how I see it going

  • After you’re done with your exams and shit, you made this plan to fulfill your dream of getting a tattoo and extra ear piercings
  • So you ask around for a good place to go to and book an appointment with the best guy there
  • After a couple of drinks and some encouraging pep talks from your friends, you decide to head out a bit early, just to make sure you aren’t late
  • And you’re sitting in the waiting room when you see him
  • He’s got the most beautiful tattoos all over his right hand, covering the length of it and his piercings shine under the lighting, making you blush furiously
  • Because how the actual fuck can a guy look that hot?!?!!? I know this is a cringe line but someone needs to arrest him for being so hot like wtaf
  • This had by far got to be the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life and you’re practically drooling
  • And then he gives you a heart attack by walking towards you
  • You’re internally freaking out like ‘why is a hot guy walking towards me???’
  • And he’s like, “Y/N?” leaving you super confused but you nod your head yes and he smiles softly at you before being all swag like, “Okay hon, let’s get you pierced and tattooed up, shall we?”

Keep reading

Last Game Novel English Translation (Ch 1 Part 1-Invasion)

As requested I began translating the Last Game novel! Things to keep in mind are this follows the movie storyline (not the manga, it is indeed a bit different), and there are INDEED SPOILERS. So only proceed if you want to be spoiled.
 I’m planning to split each chapter into two parts (8 chapters=16 parts total)

Prologue Translation

The five unparalleled geniuses, the “Generation of Miracles.”
And the one the five of them acknowledged, the “Phantom Sixth Man.”
And then he appeared before them, as if it was fate that they were all gathered in the same generation.
Kagami Taiga.
The one that was the same as the Generation of Miracles, but didn’t become one of the Generation of Miracles. He held the same gift as the geniuses and the last one to awaken-“The Miracle that didn’t become a Miracle.”
He met his fated Shadow, and became a true light.
The Light fought his rivals and increased his brightness, and finally led his team to win the Winter Cup and become the number one team in Japan.

And now,

The Light and Shadow arrive at a new stage.

Click the ‘read more’ to continue to the first half of Chapter 1!

* I revised some of the sentences a bit to give a better visual to match the scenes in the movie. 

Keep reading

Originally posted by jypnior

Genre: Fluff/Angst

It had been a week since you’d seen him, your heart ripped out when he told you that he just didn’t feel it was fair for him to be gone so long and for you to just wait for him to come back. You’d spent 105 days waiting for him to have time, but the moments you’d stolen with him over kakao or face time were more than enough to tide you over. Three days with him, going on dates, cuddling on the couch and watching movies - and suddenly he is talking about how much easier your life would be without him. The bomb is dropped, he is getting off the couch - suddenly your life seems so much less bright now that Jackson isn’t in it. You’re left sitting on the couch with no explanation, no goodbye - just that he thinks you two should break up and thats the end of it. Before you could even get a word in or process what he’d said he was gone.

So you find yourself standing outside the dorm a week later - its late, but you know that at least a couple of members are awake since their lights are on. You walk over to the door buzzing their dorm hoping one of them will let you in, “Who is it?” it was Jaebum.

Keep reading

Lost Souls

Originally posted by alittlebitblockbbias

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3 

Finding your soulmate isn’t always easy; Zico soulmate!au


Everyone always has this belief that when you find your soulmate, that was it. They became your everything, and it was some fairytale ending. And everyone out there had that soulmate that they were destined to meet. But that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Not even half the people in this world would find their other half. Even if they did, it wasn’t always romantic. Most soulmates were made to go through this life together because they understood each other. So their relationship could be that of siblings or friends. That’s why no one in this world waited. The chances of finding that soulmate and them being “the one” was not likely. 

So there were three types of soulmates, all identifiable by the color your mark would change to. The most common was pink, for friendship. Often these types would find themselves early in life. Often they’d be of the same gender. Next was blue. Indicated a family type of relationship. The age differences could vary wildly. Sometimes it could be a mother/daughter type relationship. Maybe even sibling relationship. And then there was red for a romantic relationship. 

However, most went through life as if soulmates didn’t exist….

You stared out into the river, watching the boats come and go. The gentle breeze causing your hair to be slightly tousled. It was a lovely autumn day, sun shinning with the occasional cloud. It was hard to resist the urge to spend the afternoon out here.

You began bringing your cup of coffee to your lips, but a sharp pain in your wrist made you lose your grip. The cup and its contents spilled all over the ground. But to you it was unimportant. You clutched your wrist to your chest at the pain. What was happening? Slowly the pain began to subside and turn into an odd tingling. You brought out your sleeve, rolling up your sleeve. The first thing you saw was your mark, the mark that all people had to help identify ones soulmate. Yours had changed. The once black mark had become red. Your heart rate began to increase, they were here. Your soulmate, a romantic soulmate.

Keep reading

A Misunderstanding

Pairing: You x Jimin

Summary: Your best friend Yoongi finally got you to expose your crush on Jimin and now he’s determined to play matchmaker but you aren’t having any of it - not until Jimin starts believing you hate him.

Genre: ANGST 

Word Count: 2336

Authors Note: so it’s been awhile since I’ve written anything because of school and work but I’m back now! Hooray! Also, feel free to send in requests!

Originally posted by gotjhope


[text message received at 6:43pm from Min Yoongi] “come over”

[text message sent at 6:45pm from you] “no”

[text message received at 6:45pm from Min Yoongi] “jimin is here”

[text message sent at 6:46pm from you] “That is exactly why I’m not coming”

Instead of a the buzz of a text message notification, the ring of a phone call played through your phone. You looked at who was calling and wasn’t surprised to see Yoongi’s name. You sighed and reluctantly answered, “I’m not coming over, Yoongi.”

“Don’t lie to me Y/N. You want to.” Yoongi demanded. “No. Ever since I let my crush on him slip you won’t stop insisting I come over.” He had done this regularly for the past few weeks and it was beginning to become tiring. “Stop trying to get us together.” You added, peeking around the corner to see if your roommate Sunyoung was anywhere near. She fed off gossip and if she overheard she wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut about it. “I knew you had a crush on him forever. You only confirmed it.” He insisted and you rolled your eyes. “Don’t lie, Yoongi. No you didn’t.” How could he? It wasn’t like you were obvious or anything.

Keep reading

Tender Feelings

Requested.
Who: Jughead Jones
Quote: Since you’ve been around, I smile a lot more than I use to.

[Y/N] had only been in Riverdale for a total of three months. Ninety days of stumbling into a whirlwind of a small town looking for a murder within its walls. It took roughly six weeks before she was able to calm down and enjoy the friendships she had made. Everyone was a little on edge about Jason Blossom’s death but at the same, mostly everyone was welcoming and made [Y/N] feel right at home. 

Her parents didn’t seem to like the idea that she had signed up for the Blue and Gold. [Y/N] spent a lot of her time with Betty and Jughead trying to piece together who could have murdered the high schooler. They felt that it wasn’t right for her to get in the middle of all it and above all else, feared that it would get her killed. However, they were trying to be lenient and allow her to follow her dreams in being a journalist but when she arrived home at three in the morning with a bruised lip and a black eye, they halted her investigation and locked her down. Grounded with no phone and no visitations from any of her friends she had made. The only interaction that was allowed were during school hours. 

[Y/N] didn’t know how long she was going to be put on lock-down but all she knew was that it was killing her to be hold up in her room all weekend and nights. 

She was lying on her back, a tennis ball in her hand as she threw it against the wall for it to come back to her. [Y/N] had created a game with herself, her record for keeping the streak was 417 before she just got so unbelievably bored and forgot to catch it. 

“[Y/N], your father and I will be out late. I’m not sure how long this dinner party is supposed to last.” [Y/N]’s mother walked into her room, giving her a stern look. “Don’t think for a minute you can skip out. I will be calling the house phone every hour to check up on you.” Setting down the cordless telephone on her night stand, she bit her lip, bent down and patted her daughter’s head. “This is for your protection, honey. I’m sorry but this town has a lot more demons than we thought when we bought the house.” 

“Whatever.” [Y/N] mumbled. Pressing her lips, she nodded and headed out the door. Sitting up, she leaned forward until she heard the car door shut and the engine turn on. Creeping up towards her window, she slyly watched as her parents exited their long driveway before she lunged for the house phone. 

Closing her eyes, she tried to rack her brain. Smirking, she dialed Jughead’s number. “Juggie! Hey, it’s me. No, I didn’t get a new phone….yeah it’s my house number and yup I’m still on lock-down.” Pacing back and forth in her room, she sighed, “I’m dying over here Jug, come over? Well my parents are gone till whenever…..I guess we’ve switched roles. They never used to socialize back in [random state] and now that I’ve been incarcerated with a very limited social life, they’ve miraculously found friends.” [Y/N] laughed at Jughead’s response, “But, seriously come over. We can watch movies or something. If the wicked witch of the west hadn’t promised that she’d call every hour, I’d be at Pop’s in a heartbeat.” Leaning against her dresser, she smiled. “Okay, I’ll see you in a little bit!” 


[Y/N] pouted as Jughead smeared pizza sauce all over her arm, “Jughead!” Laughing, she took spoon she had used and wiped it on his cheek.

Jughead chuckled, reaching over he plucked a few paper towels from the roll and cleaned off the sauce from his cheek and then from her arm. “Okay, okay! Truce?” 

Taking his hand, she nodded. “Truce but you’re the one who started it.” 

Shrugging, he smiled. “It was tempting.” 

Shaking her head, she used the pizza cutter to cut their homemade pizzas. “Alright, let the movie night begin!” Instructing him to grab the cups and plates, she juggled the two pizzas up their stairs. 

“Why are you going to your room for this?” 

“Because if my parents come home and I don’t hear their car coming up the driveway, it’ll be easier to hide you then if we were living room and they walked in.” Getting comfortable in her bed, she patted next to her, “I’m not supposed to be hanging out with you, remember? You could get me killed.” Rolling her eyes, she shuddered at the long conversation her parents had with her about her whole involvement with the Blue and Gold. 

“I’m sorry you got dragged into it.” He said softly. 

“I’m not.” She spoke with such certainty. “Jug, I’ve lived in [state] my entire life and never did I once ever had a friendship like I do with you guys. I love it here despite the murderer on the loose ordeal. I have friends who I can trust and depend on.”

Jughead looked at her, a smile instantly on his lips. Pulling away from her gaze, he looked down at his plate of pizza, “You know,” looking back up at her, “since you’ve been around, I smile a lot more than I use to.” 

[Y/N]’s breath hitched her throat. She had denied her growling feelings for Jughead for days now. It hadn’t really been something she had noticed until she became grounded and her nightly ritual of going to Pop’s every Tuesday and Thursday to drink milkshakes and eat fries had come to stop. She missed those alone moments with Jug. Not that she didn’t enjoy the gang but there was something about the two of them being together that made her feel different in a good way.

Clearing his throat, Jughead shook his head. “You don’t have to say anything, uh, um, I can’t really imagine a proper response to that.” 

Smiling softly, she whispered. “I do.” 

“You do?” He asked with a raised brow.

Nodding, she placed a gentle hand on his face and brought it closer to hers. Looking into his eyes, she smiled again before placing a sweet, tender kiss on his lips. 

Anna: “I don’t even know what love is.” This is the most complicated, broken, and profound line in the entire movie that was said by an equally complicated, broken, and profound character. Wait, What?

I know people will most likely agree or notice that Elsa is more glorified and magnified than Anna. Elsa is widely celebrated that she has become a whole franchise on her own singlehandedly. In Disney stores and in other stores carrying the “Frozen” merchandise, I notice that everything with Elsa’s face in it are always sold out whereas Anna’s…you can see that there are always a lot floating around. That she’s only just a spare. If a kid asks for Elsa, and her dolls are out of stock, she settles for Anna. Anna, the princess, not the Queen. Anna, the klutz, not the elegant and graceful character. Anna, the underrated character in her own movie.

What’s my point here? I’m not talking about sales statistics. I’m merely stating the obvious. We see more of  Elsa’s story get more notes and analyses here on Tumblr. She’s this utterly gorgeous muse with a tragic backstory that makes her so complicated and so enigmatic. She’s the one with the anthemic song with the sexy hips and gorgeous ice dress. She has ice powers, which make her so disarmingly hotter, and way more interesting that Anna, the younger sister who’s unashamedly ordinary compared to her sister.

I’m not trying to push Elsa off the pedestal and make Anna outshine her; wrong. That’s just how it is. Anna is underrated and there’s no denying that. But it makes me quite sad when I see people write about how Anna is just this naïve, gullible, and shallow character who fulfilled Disney’s aesthetics by being the typical princess who is love-starved and seeks romance as her main goal throughout the movie; to find a prince, kiss, and live happily ever after. Anna fulfilled that, yes. There was Kristoff, the kiss, and happily ever after. But that all came with a price. But she’s more than that. Way more than that.

“I don’t even know what love is.” My focus is this line because there are so many layers to it. 

Let’s tackle the question with some hypothetical questions and some counter statements that I also thought about, shall we?

1. Anna knows what love is. It’s not like she was locked away like Elsa was. She had her mom and dad. So if anything, Elsa should be the one who would be fitting to say that.

Yes, Anna had more contact with her mom and dad and I’m sure they compensated for Elsa’s absence by being there for her. Anna was free to hug her parents. She was free to play with her mom and dad. They had a good relationship for the most part. Anna loved them and they loved Anna. But honestly, if my sister just stopped talking to me and my parents wouldn’t give me an actual answer as to why, I’d feel pretty devastated.

I’d feel hated by my own sister. I don’t know how much (or if at all) it was emphasized by her parents that Elsa didn’t hate her whenever she asked why Elsa won’t see her anymore, but it still doesn’t excuse the fact that they kept her in the dark. Anna was betrayed from the very beginning by her own parents. All these doors. All these excuses. All these unanswered questions. It was unfair. Although her parents meant well, I’m pretty sure Anna had already formed conflicting thoughts about the concept of what love is. Why is Elsa gone? Why won’t Mama and Papa tell me? Don’t they trust me?

2. If Anna is so desperate for love and the company of people, why didn’t she go with her parents on that ship? That could’ve been her chance to explore the world. Heck, she also has a choice of leaving the castle. It’s not like Elsa told her to be locked in, too. 

I’ve seen someone write about this, but I’ve reblogged it a long time ago so I can’t really find it right now. It’s interesting how Anna stayed behind when she could’ve gone with her parents. She was fifteen years old and during that time period, hell yeah, she’s pretty darn legal. People got married even before fifteen. She didn’t need to go with her parents. She had a choice. And her choice was to stay.

Why? Okay, so Mama and Papa will be gone for two weeks. TWO WEEKS. That’s enough time for me to convince Elsa to come out of her room. Hopefully. I’ll even camp out by her door! I’ll bribe her with chocolates! Wait, what? It’s been way too long. I’ll use this time to come up with a plan to make her talk to me without Mama and Papa telling me not to go near her door. Elsa doesn’t hate me. I think. I mean, she’s my sister! Maybe, even for just a few days, Elsa and I can finally have some time for ourselves without anyone telling me not to bother her. I need to stay behind. I need to talk to her. Joan doesn’t say much. I miss Elsa. 

I think that’s how it went down in Anna’s mind. Or close to it. I mean, if she went on that ship, she would’ve died and uhh…there will be no movie. But two weeks became forever. And the door remained shut for another three years although the plan to have it opened did not waver.

She never opened those gates and left Elsa alone because where Elsa is, there she will be, too. Who will embrace Elsa with open arms when she finally opens that door? Anna won’t miss it for the world. 

I think this is the part where Anna’s faith in her sister wavered. God, she was so excited, so nervous, and so desperate to keep her sister’s attention. She standing so close next to Elsa. And Elsa is finally talking to her. They had, max, three minutes of screen time together. Three minutes or so of finally reconnecting. But Elsa and her own version of unconditional love for Anna, pushes her away once again and breaks her own heart again in the process.  Everything was going well….what did I ever do to her?

It’s just so absolutely brilliant how Hans comes in the picture a second after this scene to catch her as she tripped and about to fall. As if he was the one who will save her metaphorically. Hans, who echoes Anna’s pain (or pretends to) captures Anna’s heart immediately. He talks to her, makes her feel important, he…TALKS to her. It wasn’t a painting. It wasn’t her face against a door talking to a voiceless human being that was inside that room somewhere. It was someone finally talking to her and listening to her. Anna could not just let this pass. At this rate, Anna just wanted out. Marriage, whatever it may be, she needed an out. Not necessarily to leave Elsa because she did offer that Hans and her brothers live in their castle. But just…an escape from this gaping hole she was left with in so long. So much void. So much loneliness. Yeah, Anna was pretty naive to just say “YES” to marriage after four minutes of having a duet with a complete stranger. How gullible. But really, how much more loneliness and rejection can a person stomach? She saw an opportunity and took it. She wanted an out.  She wanted to be loved. And that’s perfectly human nature. Maybe this is her chance. Anna has been questioning what love is since that day that door slammed shut on her face. Maybe Hans will prove her wrong. He did, in the most sadistic and unexpected way.

“I don’t even know what love is.”

This is the face of complete defeat. Elsa throws her out of her ice palace after literally getting a near death experience and trekking that mountain for days. She dropped everything for Elsa just to be rejected again. Elsa physically built a monster to throw her out. Seriously, that blows more than anything even though we all know Elsa means well. And then, Hans betrays her. She’s dying and she doesn’t know what love is. She really doesn’t. She has this epiphany and realization that maybe she was just an idiot all this time. Anna, here, is convinced that whatever image of love she has in her mind is nothing more but demented wishful thinking and lies. Her parents kept secrets from her and allowed her relationship with her sister to fester. Plus, they leave her, too. They died with those secrets and those hugs Anna had looked forward to everyday growing up and wishing Elsa can hug her, too. Her own sister who was her best friend and someone she looks up to suddenly stopped being there for her unannounced; kicks her out after she goes on this suicide mission to find her, and accidentally freezes her heart. The one person that she confided in and trusted with her heart leaves her for dead after telling her she was a rebound because “no one was getting anywhere with Queen Elsa” that’s why he picked her. All of this seem to be undermined because of Anna’s radiant personality. But did anyone really actually consider that it may have been a fascade to mask the fact that she’s been crapped on all her life and everyday she wishes someone can make all of that stop?

So yeah, don’t tell me that Anna is shallow.

Anna screams “NO!” and blocks Hans’ sword from killing Elsa. By the time this happens, it’s already been established that Anna thinks Elsa doesn’t want to see her again. STILL, she literally defies that. NO, I will not let you touch my sister. YES, it’s probably true that she doesn’t love me enough or trust me enough to make it work, ice powers and all, BUT I will not let you kill her. This is not how it’s going to end. YES, I may have given up on trying to mend our relationship, but I CHOOSE HER. I may not know what love is, I may not know how it feels like to be loved. BUT I KNOW HOW TO LOVE. AND I LOVE MY SISTER. I CHOOSE HER OVER MY LIFE EVEN THOUGH IT MEANS I MAY NEVER SEE HER AGAIN. 

Guys, Anna died loving Elsa. Anna died forgiving Elsa completely…but she died not really and truly grasping how much Elsa loves her. She died thrown out, rejected, and betrayed.

Anna does not exist to fulfill Disney’s aesthetics to maintain a certain standard of being a Disney princess and a damsel in distress. Anna is none of that. Whatever happy ending she got, she deserves it, in all of its cliche and cheesiness. She has suffered just as much. She has cried just as much. And she deserves happiness and love just as much. She’s been a complicated character since her first screen time and for the next to follow. Sure, she made some really stupid mistakes. But that’s what makes her so relatable and so scarily human. Anna is the epitome of stubborn love. And that’s what makes her so beautiful. 

They don’t get the attic dibs together.

They were so sure that they would.

Neither of them even batted an eyelid when Lardo gave Ford her dibs, agreeing that having a manager in the Haus was a great idea.

They were both ready to share the attic, had been making more of an effort with each other when they realised it might happen.

And once Nursey and Dex did, they realised they had so much more in common than they expected. Maybe sharing the attic would even be fun.

*

But they don’t get the attic dibs together.

Nursey gets them from Ransom and Holster, and he stares at them in disbelief.

“So, the Haus will be me, Ford, Bitty, and Chowder?” he clarifies before accepting.

“Yep.” Ransom says “It gets loud, and hectic, but you’ll love it man”

“Its way more fun than dorms. More like family in a way.” Holster says.

“So,” Ransom says, holding out his left hand for Nursey to shake, “Do you accept these dibs?”

Nureey nods and shakes his hand. As he does, he can’t help wondering how Dex is going to take this news, and where he’s going to stay next year.

*

Dex hears about it an hour later, when he comes back from class. Chowder is excitedly telling Nursey about how great it’ll be being Hausmates. But he shuts up when he sees Dex is there, and he and Nursey look almost guilty.

It takes a moment but he puts two and two together and realises whats happened while he was retaking a class he did last semester.

“So you got dibs?” Dex asks Nursey casually “Nice one man.”

Nursey nods, and Dex goes to see if Bitty had baked any cherry pie.

*

Nursey finishes moving his stuff into the attic, and looks around. The room is huge, and he can’t imagine having all that space after 2 years sharing a dorm.

He’s glad to be out of the dorms, but he wishes it was with Dex. He’d been looking forward to late night conversations in the attic, waking up for practice together, integrating each other’s morning routines into their own. Sharing a desk, and wardrobe, and the bunk beds for 2 years.

Instead, here he was. In a big empty room. Alone.

Just like at home.

*

Dex had left the job of looking for a dorm room later than usual, he’d been so sure he would be sharing the attic with Nursey. And now he was in a room far from the centre of campus, living next to some freshmen who spent all their time arguing. Loudly.

He’d been so sure he was going to he sharing the attic with Nursey. He’d started looking forward to seeing him almost all the time, helping him stay organized, while he helped Dex stay calm. Walking to and from practice and classes together, randomly running to the Murder stop n shop at 11pm for a junk food run, chirping each other’s music taste.

But now he was in a small bed, under a cheap blanket, listening to people arguing over everything.

Just like home.

*

“So, how are you liking the attic?” Dex asked Nursey as they walked to Annies. They were tired after their first practice of the season, and decided coffee would help.

“Good. Its good.” Nursey lied. It was not good at all. It was cold, and quiet, and lonely. “How’s the dorm?”

“Yeah, good” Dex lied. It was too dark, too empty, and too noisy for him to sleep much so far. “Better than expected.” he continued, as they joined the queue for coffee.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Dex said, not able to look at Nursey as he lied again.

They were silent as they decided on orders, and when they sat down, conversation moved to discussing their summers.

It wasn’t until they were leaving Nursey said what he’d been planning to say all morning:

“You know….you could always sleep over in the attic sometime. If you wanted.”

“I could?” Dex asked in surprise. The idea hadn’t occurred to him

“Well yeah. I mean, there is an extra bed so. You could if you wanted.” Nursey explained.

“Yeah. I think that might be nice.” Dex said, and Nursey smiled at him.

“Cool. But if you are, you have to take the bottom bunk.” Nursey said.

“And let your clumsy ass on the top? You’ll fall off in ten seconds flat!” Dex chirped with a grin.

“My room, my rules!” Nursey laughed, and Dex laughed with him.

Maybe they weren’t living together, but this was a good second best.

*

Dex ends up sleeping at the attic more than he expected. Not that he or Nursey mind that. They have fun together, and don’t argue about room because most of Dex’s stuff is in his dorm. Dex sleeps over once a week if he can, and they talk about anything and everything, before stealing the last of the pie at 2am, and sharing it quietly.

Its fun, and once they start dating, Dex stays over more, so they can have cheap dates, by watching movies in the attic, getting food delivered, or even working on their own projects in companionable silence.

A Fresh Start (part 1)

My long awaited Single Mom AU is here! Will be updated weekly on Tuesdays. I hope you guys enjoy ^^

Setting: Single Mom AU

Pairings: NaLu (Other major ships included.)

Summary: Lucy Heartfilia was a single mother of a three year old boy. Between her new job and raising her son by herself, she had no time for anything else, especially finding love. That is until Lucy finds herself having a crush on local firefighter Natsu Dragneel… who also happened to be her son’s soccer coach. Nothing awkward about this situation, right?

Read on Fanfiction here!

“Kade! Where are you sweetheart?” Lucy called out for her three year old son. 

“Here Mommy!”

Lucy sighed in relief as she seen him come out of his now empty bedroom. She kneeled over to his height putting a hand on his light blonde hair. “The moving van is ready to leave sweetheart, are you ready to go to your new home?”

“Yeah! I can’t wait for daycare!” Kade said happily, his chocolate eyes sparkling.

Lucy smiled sadly at her son. He was three years old, but she couldn’t afford to put him in a daycare of any kind in this town due to her income. It’s just been him and her 24/7 since Kade was born. Its been a long three years… but things were finally starting to pick up. Lucy was offered a job at Sorcerer Weekly four hours away in Magnolia. With the money she’s saved up plus the very nice pay raise she was receiving she could finally afford to give her son everything he deserved, even if she couldn’t afford the things she wanted. Kade came before everything and anything, especially herself.

Her son was her whole world.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

for your 1k pompts:i saw a photoset of a rebelcaptain au where jyn is a single mum running a bookstore and cassian is the hottie prof at the local uni. i thought it was such a cute idea and i'd love to see what you do with it. (also, can i saw how much i'm loving your persuasion au and how it's giving me ALL of the feels?!)

First, thank you for the compliment on my Persuasion/rebelcaptain story! I hope to have another chapter written and posted before I leave on vacation next week.

And Anon, I AM SO INTO THIS IDEA YOU HAVE PROMPTED, and also your use of “uni” instead of “college” has me totally setting this in London.

I actually drafted a start this morning, but for my 1k celebration, I will definitely be writing a longer story because it is coming alive in my brain! I am actually about 10 followers away now. Eep!

Anyway. Here’s the start, a super rough draft I just wrote (promises to make this much better later, but I am excited about it now and wanted to share):



Cassian’s checked the Waterstones, the WH Smiths, even the Tesco, but he’s had no luck finding a copy of Love in the Time of Cholera, and the bookstands in the Tube station only yielded Harry Potter books, romances, or the novelization of the latest Star Wars movie.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters, wracking his brain to try and remember the name and location of the little bookstore he saw the week before. He pulls his blazer tighter around himself and makes the turn onto Earl’s Court Road, the autumn wind nipping at his face.

He almost misses it, but he sees the sign out of the corner of his eye, a swinging board shaped like a precious gem, and the shop name emblazoned in purple: Kyber Books.

It’ll have to do. He has to hope it does.

There’s a solitary woman in the shop at the counter, brown hair pulled back into a bun, green eyes heavy with sleep. She looks at once young and old, and it makes him start. The way she’s hovering over the till, he has to assume she works here, and he barrels forward. He has to teach in 30 minutes, and it’s at least a 15 minute walk, if he rushes, back to his classroom for his next period.

“Excuse me, but,” he says, and she looks up at him expectantly. “I’m looking for a copy of a Márquez book, it’s–”

“–Love in the Time of Cholera??” she answers.

“Yes,” he says, and it makes him do a double take, but what was he expecting? Perhaps he was too used to chain stores where the employees were university students who just wanted to make wages and not actually know anything about the books that they were selling.

Like a magician, she pulls out a copy of the novel and waves it carelessly in the air. “I had one saved for a student, but he never showed. You can have it instead.”

He smiles. “Thanks.” Cassian pulls out his wallet to pay. “I’m glad you had it. I have a class in 30 minutes, and none of the other shops seemed to carry it.”

“Well,” she says wryly, putting the book and receipt in the bag, “I look forward to putting them out of business.”

There’s a tinny burble that comes from behind her, and both their attentions are drawn away. The woman turns behind her and pulls out a baby monitor. In black and white, Cassian can see a little boy pulling himself up inside his crib.

“My coworker,” she says with a tired smile that still manages to light up her face. He notices then the green of her eyes and finds himself staring a beat longer than he should. “Terrible at his job. He naps all the time when should be working, but at least he only wants to get paid in milk and cuddles.”

“Well, thank you,” Cassian says, his mouth suddenly a little dry, his heart rate ticking up unexpectedly. He had been in too much of a rush to really look at her earlier; he’s finally seeing her now.

“No problem. You better scoot to class.”

He checks his watch and curses.

“You know,” she says, “you could have just bought the ebook if you were in such a hurry.”

He shouldn’t keep talking, but he wants to. “Are you trying to put yourself out of business?” he says.

She shrugs and glances at the baby monitor again. “Maybe.”

It’s his first day of teaching classes, and being fashionably late only is fashionable if you’re not broken out into a full body sweat. He breaks into a run, and it gives him three minutes to spare when he finally gets to his classroom, just enough time for a gulp of water and a moment to dab the perspiration running down his neck.

The class goes fine. His students at least seem interested, and he doesn’t think of the woman at the shop at all, at least, not until he’s back at his flat that evening, thumbing through his copy and wondering whether or not he should have asked her for her name.

Imagine: Being an Irish Avenger

Originally posted by corneillee

     You just got back from a mission and to say you were exhausted is an understatement. Its only been a couple months since you joined the avengers, you joined around the same time as Spiderman aka Peter Parker. He was just a bit older than you so when you joined the jokes that he was once the butt-end of were now directed at you. You were easier to tease because of your thick accent. Despite all the teasing you knew they did it out of love because you all were practically family.

    Back to the point, the teasing always got annoying to a certain point especially when you were tired like today. 

     “So how is our little Leprechaun?” Tony stark asked giving your [h/c] hair a noogie. 

     In response you just your face into your arms not he counter and groaned.

     “That good huh?”

     “Eh would be a lot better it ye quit yer blabberin’”

    Tony feigned hurt by grabbing his chest, “moi? blabbering” he put emphasis on the ‘g’ that you skipped due to your accent. You rolled your eyes and got up, moving from the kitchen to the common room where Clint, Natasha, Steve and Peter were hanging out on the same couch even though there were enough chairs for everyone.

      “Hey-o [Y/N] what’s the crack?” Clint stood up and patted your back.

     You smiled at Clint’s attempt at using Irish slang and went into an explanation of how tired you were and how annoying Tony was. Peter, Natasha and Steve scooted forward and squinted their eyes.

     “Is there something on my face?”

     “Sorry [Y/N] we didn’t catch a word you just said.” Natasha said trying to hide a smile.

     “What do you mean guys? I under-” Peter was cut off by Nat sharply elbowing his side.

     You knew this was there way of getting you to try to do any American accent in attempt to get them to “understand,” usually you would play along but not today satan, not today. Wanting some alone time you made your way to your room.

     In your room you had a picture of you and Natasha in front of the Statue of Liberty, she took you there when you first immigrated to the U.S. to join the Avengers. You came around the week of St. Patrick’s day so there were Irish flags, shamrocks and anything else stereotypical of the Irish. Tony thought this was a good idea because it would “remind you of home.” While walking around the city you and Natasha got a few catcalls thrown at you. One that you will probably remember for the rest of your life was this one guy who was obviously drunk, pre-gaming for the drinking that would inevitably happen later that night. He came up and asked you guys, “do ya have any Irish in ya?” You and Nat exchanged looks and you responded with the most thick accent you could muster and said “ I don’t know, have ye had any Irish take the piss outta ye?” The guy looked mortified and made a speedy retreat. While happily remembering your eventful welcome you fall asleep.

     Sometime later you were awakened by a knock at your door

     “[Y/N] c’mon its time for the traditional ‘welcome back’ movie” the voice belonged to Steve.

     You walk out of your room to see the common room decorated as if St. Patrick’s day took a shit in that one area. There were tradition Irish snacks, the main dish being potatoes.

     “The movie we chose was the Matchmaker.”

      You rolled your eyes but smiled, you were so glad you were an avenger.

Scratch - Part 5 - (Steve x Reader)

Originally posted by ohevansmycaptain

Summary: (Y/N) and Steve have been best friends since New York, so when when they are both going through a dry spell they agree to a friends with benefits relationship.

A/N: Y’all are lucky that I’ve already written most of this story because I normally don’t post on weekends.

Warnings: light smut I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯,

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

“You have to keep your wrist straight,” I tell Wanda. I stood behind the punching bag holding it in place while Wanda practice her form.

“I know,” I mumbled throwing a few more punches.

“Then why aren’t you doing it,” I ask letting go of the bag and stepping around it.

“Because I can protect myself without having to get physical.”

“You should still learn some self defense,” I sigh. “It doesn’t hurt to know how to correctly throw a punch.”

Wanda glares at me, but lets me teacher her.

Almost an hour later Steve walked into the training room with a towel thrown over his shoulder and a water bottle in his hand.

“I think I’m done for today,” Wanda takes a step back and begins to take off her gloves.

“Fine,” I say. “But we will be having lessons at least three times a week.”

Wanda frowns, but mumbles as quick ‘fine’ before leaving the training room.

Keep reading