it's nowhere near as good as others and the eyes are off but oh well


Originally posted by gayjikookadi

In which you have the first sentence your soulmate will say to you tattooed on your shoulder, Jimin’s being “Excuse you, your morning boner is poking at my thigh”.

Even though Jungkook doesn’t have as bad luck as Jimin does, he isn’t completely satisfied with his “Fuck you” tattoo either.

Jimin had been only three when his mother had told him about soulmates for the first time. He could remember it like it happened just yesterday. That was how clear the memory was.

“Jimin,” she’d said, sitting him down on his bed with an intense look in her eyes. “In your life, you will meet one person who is unlike anyone else. You’ll feel a pull towards them - the first time you lock eyes, you will feel like you’re suddenly whole again, after feeling like you’ve been missing something, no, someone your whole life.

You’ll know them when you meet, but if you ever doubt yourself, a tattoo will appear on your shoulder when you turn five. The first words they’ll ever say to you will be carved into your skin until the day your soulmate says them to you, the very day you’ll first talk to each other.”

Here, she smiled. Like she was remembering something amazing, something special. “And when you meet them, Jimin, don’t you ever let them go. If you lose them, you will feel broken again, and you will lose your will to live and die. Don’t you ever let them go.”

Jimin had thought that the first words his soulmate would say to him would be beautiful and poetic, that the words he would get would be something he could treasure.

Boy, was he wrong.

On his fifth birthday, his whole family gathered around the little boy. On the precise time he’d been born, his shoulder had started to bloom with a numbing pain, just like he’d been told multiple times before.

It took ten minutes - twenty, tops - until the feeling had finally started to fade. That was when he got the courage to glance at the tattoo resting on his collarbone.

“Mom, what’s a boner?” He had asked, as innocent as a lamb, after reading the sentence. She’d gasped harshly, as had most of his relatives, then took a look at his shoulder.

Excuse you, your morning boner is poking at my thigh.

At the time, he had no idea what a ‘morning boner’ was, but as the seasons changed and the years passed, he found out exactly what it meant.

And Jimin started to wish that soulmates didn’t exist, so badly that he almost believed it.


Because no matter how hard he tried to lie to himself, the truth was that he had the tattoo on his shoulder, and it would never change. And honestly, Jimin couldn’t help hating his soulmate just a bit for it.


Jimin pulled the oversized black and white striped shirt over his head and looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The shirt left quite a bit of shoulder exposed, and he sighed as he traced a finger over the words. The black letters looked harsh on Jimin’s tan skin, and it made him cringe.

He’d gotten used to the tattoo over the years, but his friends hadn’t. Because of his (stupid) soulmate, he’d become the butt of fifty too many jokes, and, whenever his friends laughed, he wanted to break the nose of whoever would be brash enough to say this.

Stupid soulmates.

Jimin had sworn, when he’d been seventeen and incredibly annoyed after a particularly harsh (but slightly funny) joke, that the first thing he’d say to his soulmate when he met them, no matter who they were, would be a big “fuck you”.

That was what he thought about as he squeezed a generous amount of thick foundation on his fingers and started to spread it on his tattoo. His friends were bad enough; he didn’t need any strangers seeing it at today’s party, which was being hosted but the richest and most arrogant brat on the whole campus. Probably the whole freaking world.

Jeon Jungkook.

Jimin didn’t know the guy - hell, he hadn’t even talked to him - but he already didn’t like him. He was handsome and rich, and he definitely knew it. Jimin only had agreed to go to the stupid thing because his best friend, Hoseok, had convinced him to. In fact, Hoseok wanted Jimin to go with him so he could hook him up with Yoongi, Jimin’s other best friend. Not an exciting prospect, honestly.

“Jimin, come on! We’re going to be late!” Hoseok yelled through the bathroom door, banging on the wood with heavy fists. It was ten o’clock in the evening, and Hoseok was eager to meet with Yoongi, who would (hopefully) be his date for the night.

“Shut up, I’m coming,” Jimin mumbled, putting the foundation away when his tattoo was covered up the way it was supposed to be. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, glaring. Hoseok knew he hated being rushed, and his roommate gave him an innocent smile.

Hoseok was dressed in black skinny jeans and a plain white top, a blazer and sneakers thrown on for good measure. Very billionaire-playboy-chilling-with-a-glass-of-scotch.

“Woah, you look good”, he complimented him, and Jimin’s glare turned into a smile. He’d parted his hair to reveal his forehead, and even though he wasn’t the most confident person, he felt good about the way he looked for once.

“Now, can we go?” Hoseok pleaded, with big doe eyes for effect, and Jimin sighed.

“Fine, let’s get this over with,” he mumbled, grabbing a pair of black boots. Hoseok watched him pull them on, and Jimin muttered, “Calm down,” just when he was pulled out the door.


“Oh my God, I’m so nervous, I think I’m going to puke. I think I look green, do I look green?”

Jimin rolled his eyes, smiling fondly. Hoseok had been rambling for the past half hour, while they walked to the mansion where the party was supposed to be.

“You’ll be just fine, don’t worry. He might seem a bit cold, but I swear he’s all rainbows and unicorns inside,” Jimin said, doing his best to pry his best friend’s claws off his shirt (it was a gift, after all). He snickered when Hoseok kept muttering, ‘oh my God,’ as they arrived. The house was a mansion, almost as grand as Gatsby’s. What else would you expect from a rich brat?

As they made their way to the front door, Jimin started to look around. Yoongi had promised to be here; he owed Jimin a favor, which was why he had agreed to be Hoseok’s date for tonight. Otherwise he probably would’ve just stayed home, writing music in the almost-dark as usual (Yoongi’s dream was to be a famous rapper).

When Jimin finally spotted him, lounging near a wall with a stereotypical red solo cup in his hand, he grabbed Hoseok’s hand and started making his way towards the dark-haired man. Hopefully, he wouldn’t move before they got there.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, that’s Yoongi right there, oh my God, he looks so good”, Hoseok repeated the words like they were the only thing keeping him alive. It was a good thing the music was so loud, otherwise Yoongi would’ve heard. Hoseok was right, Jimin admitted to himself. Yoongi was dressed in all black, with a snapback pulled over his eyes, like in all of his rap videos.

Jimin pushed Hoseok towards Yoongi, who had noticed them and was now standing up straight. Jimin winked and gave Hoseok a thumbs up before he melted into the crowd.

He didn’t need to be a third wheel for the whole night. No, he’d much rather spend his time with some good ol’ shots of strong, liver-killing alcohol. Jimin wasn’t someone who drank often, but his choices were a) be sober and painfully alone or b) be alone and roaring drunk.

Not a hard choice, really.

He found his way to the alcohol and poured himself six shots with a smile on his face. Now that’s what we are talking about. He downed his first shot after he found himself a place to sit (he wasn’t planning on being in any condition to stand for much longer). From his spot, he could see almost everyone in the giant room. His eyes skipped over people until he saw someone he really didn’t want to.

The host of the party. None other than Jeon Jungkook himself.

Jimin scoffed. He was leaning back on the couch, girls and guys surrounding him with a girl in a silvery-blue dress on his lap. Jeon threw his head back in laughter.

He downed the second shot the moment he saw that stupid rich brat sucking faces with another student (wasn’t he Namjoon?). He was nowhere near drunk enough to see that. Another shot disappeared, burning its way down his throat.

A weird feeling bubbled in his chest as he watched the two suck each other’s souls out. He couldn’t quite give the emotion a name, but it felt a lot like… jealousy? No fucking way. Jimin almost laughed out loud at his thoughts, downing a fourth shot. They didn’t even know each other.

The rest of the night was a blur, but he was fairly certain he had ended up drinking way more than six shots. It resulted in some awkward interactions with other students, who were nearly as drunk as him, and of course, he had blacked out on the mansion’s floor before the party had even finished. He could’ve sworn he had seen Yoongi and Hoseok get along well. Of course, if your definition of getting along was kissing rather shyly in a secret corner.  


Jungkook saw the boy in the striped shirt the moment he’d walked in.

His silver hair that reflected the light perfectly, his plump lips that he bit when he tried not to laugh - every single thing about him seemed to draw him in. He’d come with someone who looked incredibly nervous, was that his boyfriend? His eyebrows furrowed, ever so slightly, and he shook his head. Why did he care? It was none of his business.

Still, his gaze followed him (wasn’t his name Park Jimin, or something?) intently as he navigated his way through the people in the party, until they reached a guy who looked like he’d rather be anywhere than here. The silver-haired male pushed his friend - something Jungkook had just realized -  towards the guy who had been leaning on the wall. He was short, like Jimin.

Jungkook watched Jimin slip into the crowd, the two boys left looking awkwardly at each other. He rolled his eyes. The two clearly liked each other; what was so hard about talking to each other and actually sharing a conversation instead of awkward, yearning glances?

Jungkook tried to find Jimin, but it was like he’d disappeared into thin air. Had he left? A weird feeling of desperation flushed through the Jungkook as he moved to sit on the couch, people crowding to sit around him. He spotted Jimin a few minutes after, sitting alone with a tray of shots in front of him. Jungkook watched him drink shot after shot, and grinned at the cute way he scrunched up his nose after every single one.

Woah, cute??

Time to move on.

Jungkook turned towards the group he was sitting with, mostly to Namjoon, who sat right next to him. Namjoon was good-looking, he couldn’t deny that, but why didn’t his dimples make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside? Why didn’t his smile make his stomach flip like Jimin’s smile did? Would Namjoon’s lips make Jungkook feel the way he felt when he saw Jimin?

That was what went through his mind as he leaned towards the platinum-haired male and captured their lips in a kiss that Jungkook found anything but passionate. He could taste alcohol in Namjoon’s mouth, and it most definitely didn’t make butterflies fly around his insides.

He felt like throwing up when he finally pulled away. That was their first and last kiss, Jungkook decided right then and there.

He bolted up from his seat and headed towards the bar - because alcohol was exactly what he needed to drown his feelings.

All Jungkook could remember after that was downing way too much whiskey, keeping his hands to himself way too little, and getting way, way too drunk.


Jimin let out a groan as he forced his eyes open, then let out another when he screwed them shut again. The sun was high up already, and the room  was annoyingly, incredibly bright.

There was an ogre in his head, kicking his brain and making everything tremble as revenge for last night. He almost wished he’d stayed at the dorms, cuddling into a fuzzy blanket while reading a good book. But the feeling of being carefree, being completely weightless, was worth the headache. And the nausea.

Jimin shifted to his side. There was something warm and soft, and he burrowed into that soft something, letting out a content sigh. That soft something smelled really nice, pine and cologne and something else, and he breathed in deeply.  After a few minutes of being comfortable, he heard a rumbly voice rasp entirely too close to his ear.

“Excuse you, your morning boner is poking at my thigh,” the person groaned. The way his voice scraped around the edges made heat flood in his chest, like slipping into a warm blanket.

Jimin whined and nuzzled his face into the soft material, mumbling a small “fuck you,” as he did. A few seconds later, the soft something, or someone disappeared, and he hit his head on the cold, hard floor.

His headache split his head in half.

“Ow! What the fuck?” He yelped, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the tiniest hint of a pout on his lips. When he finally managed to open his eyes, he jumped, nearly six feet in the air.

Jeon Jungkook was sitting in front of him, all messy dark hair and eyes that sparkled in the sun. Jimin’s heart jumped into overdrive.

“What did you just say to me?” Jungkook questioned, leaning forward ever so slightly, which made Jimin lean backward ever so slightly.

“Um, ‘fuck you’?” Jimin suggested carefully, playing with his hands and looking at his lap.

“Oh my God,” Jungkook mumbled. Jimin’s eyes turned into saucers when he started to take his shirt off.

“W-What do you think you’re doing?” he stuttered, failing miserably at trying to sound annoyed. Moments later, a sigh slipped past his lips at the image of Jungkook shirtless, the sun hitting his skin like he was a god.

And no, it wasn’t because of Jungkook’s toned chest or abs, not even his arms or beautiful golden skin, but because of the tattoo on his shoulder. Exactly where Jimin’s was. Exactly where the soulmate tattoo was supposed to be.

Fuck you.

“Are you kidding me?” Jimin snickered, his nervousness vanishing. He traced a finger over the words, curling black on golden skin, and nearly smiled when he felt Jungkook shiver. “Does that mean you actually just said ‘excuse you, your morning boner is poking at my thigh’?”

Jungkook’s cheeks turned rosy, the prettiest shade of pink Jimin had ever seen, and he looked down on his lap when he nodded. For once, not the arrogant, spoilt brat. “Sorry about that,” he said, “it must’ve not been a very nice thing to have on your shoulder.”

But Jimin didn’t care about that. He didn’t care about any of that, anymore.

He had finally found his soulmate, his missing piece, and my God, was he beautiful.

“You stupid, rich brat,” Jimin smiled, carefully leaning towards Jungkook. His lips curved into a soft smile, headache long forgotten.

“You stupid shortie,” Jungkook muttered just before their lips met. It was like Sunday afternoons, warm and comforting, but there was a layer of passion, just underneath.

And Jimin felt a hole he never knew he had disappear.

(A/N) Ahhhhh the end! Such a fluffy oneshot i LOVE JIKOOK OK

ALSO special thanks to my babe @yoongsigh for the amazing writing prompt and to the lovely bb @quill-ink for editing this and making it 2356293859857 times better <333 ily guys <3 <3

Already Gone

Prompt: “I don’t love you, I never have.”

Word Count: 2,011.

Warnings: Foul language, and emotional abuse.

A/N: I wrote this for @bionic-buckyb‘s writing challenge! She recently hit 5k followers (congrats again sweetie) and I decided to challenge myself this once and wrote out this heartbreaking fic! I took a lot of inspiration from a novel I’m currently reading at the moment, and I honestly think it set the right mood for me to take some inspo from. I would also like to say a special thank you to the very kind @whothehellisbella for dealing with me and helping me out big time as I wrote all of this out. As always, please let me know what you all thought of this and I hope you enjoy!

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Chapter Three [Beyond the Sunrise, LMMxReader]

Summary: As graduation grows closer, so does your relationship with Lin. 

Word Count: 1,626

Warnings: Slow burn, but y’all are used to it by now, right?

Authors notes:  Ren - Do you guys know how much I love sister dynamics? A lot. This chapter was really cute to write, hope y’all enjoy!

Sab - Things are moving/shaking, we’re getting into the nitty-grtty, basically it’s all very domestic and I’m in love. Please give us feedback we live off of #validation.

askbox | masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

“Lin, how do you spell disseminate?” your voice echoed in his messy living room, his answer coming almost automatically.

“Why do you need to know this word anyway?” You looked up from your laptop, watching his efforts while writing in a notebook on his desk.

“Fancy words make me look smart,” you shrugged.

“You are smart.”

“They don’t know that.”

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midnight star (1)

genre: thief!au

star of the show: NCT’s Taeyong

word count: 2,303 words

author’s note: the first part to a “whoever-knows-how-many-parts” series because I’ve had this idea for too long and I love Taeyong.    

other parts: (1) (2) (3)

Originally posted by itsmyluxion

opening line: “A thief who steals to feed his own competitive ego, Lee Taeyong has never tried to steal something as intangible as a heart before, let alone yours.” 

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Idol: Jeon Jungkook

Word count: 1,774

Genre: Angst…?(idk you tell me)

Request:  Can I get first angst and then it turns into fluff scenario with jungkook (BTS) (I really really like school scenarios or when you are working with then or like he is an idol and you’re fan) 💕❤

A/N: I don’t know if you  could tell…. but i got a little too carried away. But i hope you like it! and sorry if there are any typos, its like 2 in the morning and i was too lazy to re-read everything.

Jeon Jungkook, the most popular guy in school, every girl wanted him and every guy wanted to be him, even the teachers loved him. With his jet black hair and breath taking smile. He can sing, dance, and rap, what the hell can’t he do, he was perfect, not to mention that he was a mastermind with the ladies. Everyone loved him.






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Stolen mattress // fic #1 // Jungkook x reader

Stolen Mattress

group : BTS
member : Jeon Jungkook
genre : fluff? low key implied smut? / smut in future chapters? (can you see I have no idea what this hot mess is??)
story type : full fic
chapter : 1/?
posted on : 17/03/18
warnings : alcohol
words : 1,2K
inspiration came from this cover of Closer by The Chainsmokers

“Jungkook,” you looked to your left. “Huh?” you saw a boy standing next to you. “I’m Jungkook,” he sat down. Great. “Y/N,” you shook hands. “Such a pretty name,” he noticed you were staring into the distance. You were looking at the fireworks. Romantic. “You know, I noticed you were drinking the same beverage I am,” you looked at the can he was holding up. It was the same shade of orange with ugly green lines. He likes beer, can’t be that bad. “Yeah, it’s the best one that the pub has to offer,” you told him.

Awkward silence turned into getting to know each other. Minutes turned into hours. The early evening hours turned into a sunset, marking the beginning of the night.

“And then they left me all alone. They thought my brother was better,” you threw the can away and got up from the ground. “Something I learned was that you really should be the firstborn if you want to have your parents, and their love that is,” he fell for you. There and then. He was still sober enough to feel that you were in pain, he felt like he needed to protect you.

“Where are you going?” he asked you. “Home?” he felt a pang in his chest. You were leaving already? “Why are you going?” you turned to walk away. “I thought you were coming with me,” Jungkook was already standing. “Well if you say so,” he ran after you.

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Waking Days Ch1 - Enter Bill Cipher

A/N: Helllooo and thank you for being so patient with me. I know, I know, with that little joke I had it coming, but look, I’ve finally delivered!

I took a long while with figuring out a title for the long fic, and I may change it later, but this is what I’ve got for now, so feedback is appreciated. (And yes, the chapter title is literally the same one as from Flat Dreams. I am a nerd.) Enjoy, you guys. :3

Warning: Implied substance abuse. 

AU by @doodledrawsthings. Based on Flat Dreams by @pengychan.

“He that sleeps feels not the tooth-ache.”

W. Shakespeare, Cymbeline

Ever since he took that deal, he’d been regretting it.

Looking back now, he would take a million years in that stone tomb over what that giant salamander had subjected him to. He hadn’t expected on getting his power back, not really, but the least that jerk could do was give him a proper form. Hell, or at least keep him a triangle. But he’d never expected this. He’d been thrown into this form with no directions, no explanation except “You must absolve your crime.”

Yeah, great, what the hell did that even mean.

He hated it. He hated everything about this stupid body, about this weak pitiful meat sack that frilly asshole decided to shove him in. He had nothing, no power, no immortality, no means of escape. And if that wasn’t enough, he was slowly dying. He could even feel it. The slow, painful way each cell was loosing its energy. In just a few decades he would degrade, grow cold and end up feeding worms before he knew it, if this sack of flesh didn’t give up on him even sooner. After watching humans for so long, he’d seen just how easily they could die, hell he’d even been the cause of a lot of them. He’d found it funny, how easily they can break.

He didn’t now.

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The Gap

Summary: You are a morning person and Yoongi is definitely not—so for better or worse, something is going to change when fate places your windows less than three meters away from each other.
Pairing: Yoongi | Reader
Genre: Fluff, Neighbors AU
Word Count: 2,603
Author’s Note: Inspired by that Friends episode “The One With All The Haste” and the singing man across the way who sang “Morning’s here, sunshine’s here” like clockwork at the crack of dawn.


Most people would describe the morning sunlight as bright, cheerful, endearing, warm, and peaceful, the rays like a stretch of encouragement from the sky. The promise of a new day, a brand new 24 hours to start fresh, make better choices, take initiation, try new thing or explore vast places, go on adventures or be in good company. The options were limitless, as high as the sky that shone above.

Yoongi, however, would describe the morning sunlight like a bucket of ice cold water, a bitter cup of coffee—too sharp, too sudden, ripping him apart from joyous things like sleep or dreams or a warm bed. It jolts him awake, clouds his mind more than clears it. More often than not, he finds himself burying his face into his pillow to muffle his groans, clearly hoping that if he groans loud enough it could turn back time.

But alas, that is not how the universe was created—so it doesn’t do much.

Yoongi supposes that a small percentage of this mindset should be his own fault, his own lack of aspirations making the 24 hours appear so much slower than they are to other people. He has dreams of course, passions that could challenge any other visionary on the street. But the weight of life has caught Yoongi in the stream, dragging him down the current and away from his desire, leaving him on the shore that takes the form of a coffee shop across the way. Albeit, it’s not an entirely bad gig—the tip is good and some of his best friends also work in the corner shop and his boss doesn’t actually treat him like shit. It just doesn’t leave Yoongi satisfied. It eats into his already very thinly veiled patience for the morning.

See the light where the sky meets the sea, and it calls me,” A clear voice rings through the thin window in Yoongi’s bedroom, the consistency and deja vu of the noise leaving a painful reminder in Yoongi’s mind about the time as it groans and throws the blankets over his head.

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bloomingcnidarians  asked:

2 and/or 19 for Gemma/Jaal, please!

19. kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing 

In which Gemma Ryder and Jaal have their first fight, and Cora does not want to deal with it. 


Ryder’s ongoing quest to climb every mountain on every planet vertically had finally broken the Nomad in ways even the combined efforts of Gil, Jaal, and Vetra couldn’t repair.

“Are you still on fire?” Cora asked, both horrified and impressed. “My God. You’re still on fire.”

Ryder, halfway out of her armor, and looking as close to murderous as Cora had ever seen her, crouched down to peer at the Nomad’s undercarriage. “Shit, we are. Liam — we’re in crisis, respond!”

“On it, boss!” A fire extinguisher arced through the air, barely missing Gil’s head, and landed in Ryder’s hand with a solid thwack. Five seconds later, the fire was out, but the cargo bay was covered in foam, and the Nomad wheezed and groaned as its axles cooled.

“Shit,” Ryder said again, scrubbing at her hair. “Good eye, Cora, thanks.”

“I take it your field trip with Reyes went well?” Cora asked.

Ryder bared her teeth — Cora thought of a mongoose, and took a step back — but before she could change the subject or Ryder could start swearing, Jaal spoke up from the other side of the Nomad.

“Kadara is a cesspool on the best of days,” he said, his mouth curled in a sneer as he wiped a few droplets of foam off his eyepiece. He muttered something under his breath, and Ryder’s shoulder went iron-hard. “And today,” he added, once all the foam was gone, “was not its best day.”

Ryder glared at Jaal — the planetkiller stare, her father had called it; Cora heard his voice, felt the accompanying pang of loss and nostalgia — and the cargo bay went silent. The lovebirds hadn’t so much as exchanged tense words since they paired off months ago, but watching Ryder, whose teeth were still very much bared, and whose Sidewinder was still very much in reach, Cora readied a barrier.

No harm in being prepared, lots of harm in letting the Pathfinder spatter her angaran boyfriend across the Tempest’s cargo bay.

Five seconds of absolute silence passed, then Ryder gave herself a shake and exhaled hard through her mouth. “It sure as hell wasn’t,” she said, tight and furious, then turned on her heel and stalked away, without a backwards look.

Cora chanced a look in Jaal’s direction — hell, just like everyone else in the cargo bay — and found him watching Ryder’s departure with a mix of dismay and annoyance. Dismay ended up winning by the time the door hissed closed behind Ryder.

Sure glad I wasn’t tapped for this run, Cora thought, then felt a surge of guilt as Jaal made his way — deliberately calm — toward the makeshift showers in the back of the bay.

Another ten seconds of silence went by before Drack’s head popped out of the Nomad.

“Next time,” he said to the room at large, “someone else can go to Kadara. I’m done.”


Between Jaal’s first and second emotional openness seminars, someone — Cora’s money was on Liam — had taken the guy aside and explained that sometimes it was totally okay, even preferred, to let humans stew for a while before trying to work things out. And Jaal, being pretty quick on the uptake, had taken that advice very much to heart — not that Jaal had any other setting, Cora mused — and let Ryder stew, and stew, and stew, all the way back to the Nexus, where the Nomad could get some TLC and the crew could stock up on rations that were older than everyone except Drack.

Ryder spent most of the trip in her quarters, and for the first time, Cora realized just how much of the crew’s strange cohesion came from the Pathfinder’s relentless, dogged optimism. Everyone stayed as efficient as ever, but without Ryder breezing through the ship, no one seemed inclined to talk, or joke, or even give each other shit.

“I hate this,” Peebee said, two hours out from the Nexus. “They need to get over it. Jaal had the right idea. Kadara sucks, even that time Drack drank the water.”

Lexi’s eyes flew wide, and Cora leapt in before the good doctor could turn herself inside-out over that one. “I’m pretty sure it’s more than Jaal’s feelings about Kadara getting on Ryder’s last nerve,” she said, as diplomatically as she could. Privately, she mostly agreed with Peebee, but a part of her kept whispering that Ryder had held herself together through her father’s death, two of her own deaths, and facing the kett time and again. This wasn’t just being pissed off with Jaal; this was everything on Ryder’s back coming out at once.

She wanted to say so, but Peebee had already checked out of the conversation and was talking to Lexi about the new upgrades to Poc, and Cora didn’t want to ruin the moment. She finished her breakfast in silence, and headed back to her plants. As de facto XO, maybe she should have stepped in, and nudged them toward a reconciliation, but that advice about stewing went for her, too.

If Ryder and Jaal weren’t back to their usual adoring selves by the time the Nomad was repaired, she’d say something. But not before.


Halfway through their first day docked at the Nexus, a swell of whoops and laughter interrupted Cora’s reading. She shoved her datapad away and followed the sound down to the cargo bay.

Gil and Peebee turned around as she walked in, each offering her a quick nod before going back to cheering on Liam and Ryder, who were both balancing on gymnastics rings, five feet above the floor.

Oh, good, Cora thought. We’re back to Tempest Olympics. She’d been roped into enough of Ryder’s challenges for a lifetime, but Liam could always be relied on to take one of Ryder’s dares, whether it was do you think I can throw you over that ravine with my biotics or how many cartwheels can we do in full armor?

At least this particular challenge wouldn’t leave Lexi crying in her sleep. The good doctor was cheering next to Drack, though Cora wasn’t exactly sure for whom.

“How long have they been at it?” she asked, taking up a spot on Peebee’s other side.

“About fifteen minutes,” Gil replied, Peebee being too busy throwing half a cookie at Liam’s head. “Nowhere near the record, but we’re allowed to distract them this time.”

“Bullseye!” Peebee yelled, nearly deafening them both, as the cookie bounced off Liam’s forehead. He wobbled, cursing under his breath, but regained his balance a second later.

Cora grinned, relief rising through her chest. If Ryder was cheerful enough to start demanding athletic competitions, the worst was behind them, without her having to lift a finger. A reconciliation with Jaal couldn’t be far behind — except for the fact that Jaal was nowhere to be seen.

A little of her relief faded away, but then Vetra flicked a bottle cap at Ryder, and she nearly lost her grip as she tried to shift away.

“Oh, you’re going down!” Liam said, grinning as a fine sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead.

“No way, Kosta.” Ryder pulled herself upright, and gave him a wicked grin. “I’m in the zone. Can’t knock me out, can’t bring me down, can’t —”

“Hey, Jaal!” Liam yelled toward the far corner of the cargo bay. “Give a friend a hand, yeah? Distract your girl!”

Ryder’s head twitched toward Jaal as he walked into view, but she clearly didn’t make eye contact. “Pretty low, Liam,” she said. “Must be getting desperate. No wonder I’m winning.”

Desperate your word for creative, huh?” Liam jerked his chin at Jaal, who hovered at the edge of the bay, just in Cora’s line of sight. “C'mon, I know you’ve got moves.”

Cora watched Jaal’s emotions cross his face: reluctance, amusement, and the strange blend of wistfulness and intensity that had marked how he looked at Ryder, almost from the beginning.

I don’t know if I should roll my eyes or applaud, she thought, as Jaal made his way toward Ryder. It’s like something out of Ryder’s vids.

Why she’d expected anything less, she’d never know.

“Hoo boy,” whispered Vetra, and leaned back with her arms folded. Drack groaned, despite Lexi nudging him. And Ryder watched Jaal, her grip on the rings not faltering, her legs pointed straight and true at the ground.

Jaal wrapped his hand around her bare ankle. He didn’t squeeze, or stroke, just held on as he looked up at Ryder’s face.

“Come on,” Liam hissed, smirking. “You’ve got this.”

Ryder tossed her hair out of her eyes, the first trace of a smile curving her lips.

Jaal’s hand tightened on Ryder’s ankle. He lifted her leg — slowly, and Ryder’s smile widened — and kissed the inside of her calf.

Good lord, Cora thought, shaking her head.

“Ah!” Ryder dropped, laughing, into Jaal’s waiting arms. Cora saw his answering smile as he turned, not letting Ryder go.

Liam whooped and let go of the rings, darting forward to slap Jaal and Ryder on the shoulder. “And the champion is…the Kosta!”

Oh, Liam might have been the champion, but Ryder certainly didn’t look like a woman who had lost anything as Jaal lowered her gently to the floor. She kept smiling as she said something to Jaal, too quietly for anyone to hear over Liam’s crowing, and then they both laughed.

“Quite a show,” Gil said, pushing away from the railing. “Guess the kids are back to normal now.”

Cora hummed in agreement as she watched Ryder and Jaal slip toward the exit, hand in hand. “Guess so.”

Heat Wave

Pairing: Finn Balor x original character

Summary: Prompt 122. “I may despise you with the burning white hot intensity of a thousand suns, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like you.” I changed it to the word like from the word love, which is what the prompt said originally.

A/N: I am fucking weak for him and this is fifteen pages long in my notebook. This, also, is titled after the Heat Wave highlighter. Also, (most importantly) Finn’s 👌fucking👌 back now and his hair is long and his beard is longer and he wore his leather jacket and all black attire and… it was the most sexually explicit thing I have ever.

My nose crinkles up as I pass the window and see Finn sitting at the table. Sami sat next to him, but that did nothing to keep me from stopping in my tracks, “Seriously? You guys have to stop pulling this stuff.”

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Camp Counselor || Jughead Jones

Prompt from @taco-queen-abi: Hey so Idk if you’re doing requests still from your prompt list but I’m just gunna send this anyways.. #5, #9 and I think #40.. I need more comfort one-shots and stuff idk why 😂

5.) “I’m not here to make friends.”

9.) “You can’t banish me! This is my bed too!”

40.) “The kids, they ambushed me.”

Gif by @stlinskim

The Reader is a camp counselor during the summer and one day her boyfriend Jughead Jones visits her at work.

A/N: Hope you enjoy!!


Jughead Jones III didn’t visit you at work. It’s not that he didn’t want to, it was just that it was nearly impossible to. Your summer job as a camp counselor was nearly two and a half hours away and Jughead didn’t have a car. Even if he did, it would’ve been too long a trip to drive. So when your boyfriend of two years showed up at the camp one day in the late afternoon seemingly from out of nowhere, you were suspicious.

“You gonna tell me why you’re really here?” you asked Jughead as you sat with him and a third grader named Jonathan who was drawing.

The other kids were playing with their water guns, but Jonathan was different. He didn’t like the other kids. He was quiet and kept to himself. He reminded you a lot of a certain teenage boy sitting next to you.

Jughead rolled his eyes and turned to look at the kids playing with water guns behind you.

“What, can’t I come and see my girlfriend at her work?” he asked casually.

You rolled your eyes.

“Jughead, you don’t have even have a car.” you said.

Now Jughead rolled his eyes.

“I told you, Archie gave me a ride.” he said.

You snorted.

Like you believed that.

Deciding to let it drop for now, you shrugged.

“Alright,” you said, still not totally convinced. “However, I still don’t quite understand why you decided to come up and see me when it’s nearly 7 o’clock,” you said, looking up at the sunset. “I mean, I’m thrilled you’re here, but why are you here so late?”

Jughead didn’t answer. He just smiled and pecked your cheek, getting up.

“I’m heading to the concession stand. Want anything?” he asked.

You shook your head and sighed, realizing you weren’t going to get a definite answer from him.

“No, I’m good. Thanks though.” you said and Jughead nodding before walking off.

You turned your attention back to Jonathan.

“So, Jonathan, enjoying your time at camp so far?” you asked.

The boy shook his head, not looking up from his drawing.

You rose your eyebrows.

“No? Why not?” you asked.

Jonathan just shrugged and you sighed.

“Well, it’s still only July. You’ll like it as time goes on. Anything I can help you with?”

Jonathan shook his head again.

“Have you made any friends so far?” you asked, trying to engage the little boy in conversation.

“I’m not here to make friends.” he mumbled.

You wanted to laugh at his answer as it was such a morbid answer from a young kid, but you kept your mouth shut, settling for nodding instead.

“I see,” you said. “Well, you can always hang out with me if you want. I could use a friend here.”

Jonathan perked up at your offer but stayed silent again.

All of a sudden you heard yelling and laughing and quickly turned around, seeing a very soaked Jughead, a bag of chips clenched in his hand.

He was absolutely drenched, streams of water falling off of him from every part of his body.

“The kids, they ambushed me.” he growled referring to the giggling campers with water guns standing behind him.

You bit back a grin at seeing Jughead look like a wet dog, glaring intently at his wet clothes.

“Um, campers!” you called, trying not to laughing. “Go to your cabins! You guys can have free time for an hour and then we’ll have some S’mores. Sound good?”

The kids cheered and ran off to their cabins, Jonathan rushing to keep up with them leaving you with Jughead.

You finally burst out laughing as you looked at your boyfriend.

“It’s not funny, Y/N.” he barked.

You were bent over in laughter, tears leaking out of your eyes.

“No, of course not, Juggie,” you wheezed out. “Come on, let’s find you some clothes.”

Unfortunately, the S’mores thing never worked out. When 8 o’clock rolled around, your supervisor had called an emergency meeting, saying that there was a bad storm coming. You and your campers had to stay in your own cabins for the night and you couldn’t leave until morning, making the kids moan and groan. After you sent them to their cabins and made them promise not to cause any mischief, you made your way back to your own cabin with Jughead. Your coworker had lent Jughead a white tank top and old (but clean!) jeans. You and Jughead then played cards for a while before 9 o’clock hit and you heard the wind beginning to pick up.

“It’s a bad storm out there, Juggie,” you said as you looked outside. A branch dropped near your cabin and you turned back to your boyfriend who was on your bed and currently on his laptop, writing the next part of his novel. “Guess my boss was right. No one’s leaving. You’ll have to stay with me for tonight.”

“Yeah, I figured.” he said nonchalantly, not looking up from his laptop.

“I mean—” you began but stopped when his words registered in your brain.

Oh, no he didn’t.

“Wait a second…” you began again and Jughead looked up from his laptop with a smirk.

It finally hit you.

“You knew there was going to be a storm! That’s why you came late! You wanted to stay the night!” you exclaimed.

Jughead smiled wolfishly and you let out a surprised breath, glaring at the raven-haired teen.

“Oh, you—”

Jughead quickly closed his laptop and got under the covers, sitting up and beaming at you, obviously proud of himself.

You tried not to smile.

“Get out.” you said as a smile betrayed you and made its way onto your face.

Jughead grinned.

“You can’t banish me! This is my bed too!”

You rolled your eyes.

“You’re a sneaky bastard. You know that, right?” you said as you made your way over to where Jughead was, getting under the covers with him.

Jughead sighed contently and pulled you close to him so his chin was resting on your shoulder.

“Mm, you love me.” he said.

You smiled softly and turned around so you were facing him, your lips inches apart.

“Yeah, I really do.” you said quietly as you captured his lips with yours, Jughead moving so he was on top of you, deepening the kiss.

Let’s just say the storm wasn’t the loudest thing in the woods that night.


A/N: Bam! It’s done! I hope liked it! Please send me feedback! Now I’m off to see Get Out. I can’t wait!! The next prompt will either be up late tonight or tomorrow! :D


@gottalovetheapocalypse @lydixstiles @jughead-from-riverdale @pinkhappypanda @iamthegoatmaster @subsi4123 @reginaphlanageadams @river-vixns @deanskitten @latenightbooknerd @lostinpercyseyes @captainelsaeverdeen @itsjaynebird @allineedisconnor @juggie-jones-iii @superoriginalteenwolf @sastielstan @1amluke @satanwithstardust @johnmurphys-sass

nessian bedsharing part 1/2

“If you don’t stop smirking at me, if you snore, or if I feel so much as an Illyrian *toe* end up on my side of the bed, I will push you right out,” Nesta warns him.


Nesta takes one look at the room and pivots to glare at Cassian.

“I had nothing to do with this,” he says quickly, hands up in self-defense. “I asked for two, and when they said they only had one room left, I assumed they meant only one room with two.”

The single, solitary bed in this crappy inn room sits there innocuously. Mocking her.

“I’ll find somewhere else to stay, then,” she bites out.

“There’s no other inns around for miles, Nes,” Cassian says placatingly. “Believe me, we wouldn’t be staying in this craphole if there were.”

Nesta clenches her jaw in his direction. “Then I’ll find some strapping wealthy man to seduce and stay in his bed for the night.” This is a ridiculous threat, at almost midnight when it’s freezing cold out and they’re stuck in an outpost in the middle of nowhere consisting of an inn, a brothel, and a bar, but Nesta’s exhausted and she’s mad that now the possibility of literally sleeping with Cassian is something she has to deal with.

Cassian cocks his head at her, lips tugging upwards playfully. “It just so happens that I’m a strapping, wealthy man very open to seduction. And I’m paying for this room, so technically it is my bed.“

Nesta feels every murderous instinct in her sharpen to a wicked point.

“Oh, well,” she says, dripping with sarcastic sultriness. She drops her bag, begins to unbutton the top layer of her leathers, slinking towards him. “When you put it like that…”

Cassian’s joking demeanor evaporates instantly; the mood of the room shifts on a dime. She stops a hair away from him, close enough that she can feel his breath on her lips. He must know she’s playing with him, but the big idiot is affected anyway like he always is, lips parted, eyes locked on her like he’s either going to devour her whole or fall to his knees.

Even now, when she’s pissed off and tired, there’s something that makes her feel alive in this game of theirs, their unique ability to get under each other’s skin. Nesta lets her eyes drag over his lips, flicker once demurely to his eyes before she pushes herself up on her tiptoes. Her lips brush his jaw calculatedly before whispering, “You’re sleeping on the floor.”

She draws back with the smuggest glare she can muster to hammer home the point before sweeping away from him, grabbing her bag, and heading for the bathroom down the hall. It’s hard to tell through what he’s wearing, but she’s pretty sure she leaves the commander of the Illyrian armies with a hard-on.

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Look The Other Way

Pairing: Leonard McCoy x Reader

Beta: None. You have been warned. :P

Warnings: None that I’m aware of.

Word count: 1978

A/N: This is for @outside-the-government‘s Winter Blues Challenge (Rules Here | Challenge Masterlist Here). My prompt is in bold.

“Explain to me why you skipped coming to see me about this and went straight to this alternative horseshit?” Dr. Leonard McCoy asked you, pulling the curtain back from around the bio bed, the rings scraping against the bar as he flung it closed behind him.

“Don’t yell at me,” you said between clenched teeth from where you were sitting on the bio bed. Seriously, the day was bad enough. Yelling at this point was just unnecessary cruelty.

“I yell because I care, dammit,” he said, quieter than before but certainly nowhere near a regular speaking voice as he approached the bio bed.

“Well, care a little more quietly. I’ve gone blind, not deaf.”  

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Open Doors

You can find my Masterlist HERE!

Prompt: *Based on Negan/physically disabled wife headcannon/fic* A new arrival to the Sanctuary has been harassing Negan’s wife because of her disability, unware of who her husband is. She tries to keep the problems to herself, as she doesn’t want to incite the violence that would be sure to insure if Negan ever found out about these repeated verbal assaults. But that only lasts for a few weeks, as Simon happens to walk in on one of these incidents.
*Continued from previous ask* Of course, Simon runs to tell the bi boss man about the mistreatment of his wife right away. But nevertheless, Negan’s wife is left feeling insecure about herself and their relationship due to the harsh and hateful words from this new arrival. However, Negan fully intends to absolve all his wife’s worries, both in her home and in her heart. He shuts that shit down, no exceptions! – Via @itsjustafeelingthatihave

Ships: Negan x Disabled!Reader
Words: 1,157
Warnings: Ableism mentions, curses
Category: Angst / Fluff


You were sat in your wheelchair, staring idly at the long blank TV that none of your favourite TV shows would play again on. You were lost in thought as you watched the dust atop the box television.

You were sat thinking about the new arrival who had been planting such irritable and hateful words in your head. You had tried your best to contain the problem, to stop Negan from discovering why you had been so quiet in recent days. You had been handling the problem, had thought that you’d been making progress, until the man had lashed out at you and had almost taken a wheel off your wheelchair. Luckily Simon arrived and disarmed the violent situation.

You had wanted to keep it to yourself but you knew that by the time Negan would return to your room from the supply run to Alexandria he would be in a blinding rage, thirsty for blood.

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Jason Todd/Red Hood X Reader- Stalker From Another Universe (Part 4)

I was about to post this, but then my mind got side tracked and then I fell into the void that’s named Tumblr.  When I finally snapped out of my daze, I forgot that I was posting something….. This is what you do to me Tumblr!!!

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3

Warning: Swearing, blood.  There’s nothing to worry about here….

Tagging: @cheyennethefangirl, @its-scarlet-witch-bitch

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anonymous asked:

15 Seth Rollins

Prompt: “I’d kill for a coffee…literally.”

A/N: Can you tell where the inspiration for this came from :P

“Rock. Paper. Scissors to see who drives?” you asked Seth as you put your bags in the car. 

“No. Last time we did that you won and almost got us killed!” Seth answered grabing the keys from your hand and jumping into the drivers seat. You moved round to the passenger side and jumped in, playfully punching him in the arm.

“Hey! I did not nearly kill us! That deer ran out in front of us what did you want me to do?”

“Run it over not swerve around it!” He laughed as he pulled the car out of the venue parking lot.

“No! It was a sweet inncoent creature. I wasnt going to kill it.”

“So you decide to nearly kill us!” You could see Seth was finding the whole situation hillarious so you turned away from him and looked dramatically out the window. “So cesaro was telling me this story about when they were practising with the kilts and…….Babe are you even listening?” He breifly turned to look at you to see your reflection pouting back at him. “Really? You’re pouting?” You replied by sticking your tounge out at him. This continued for a couple more miles until seth got bored and started to poke you.

“Babe.” Poke “Babe.” Poke “Babe.”

“Geezzeeee what!” You turned to face him making him jump slightly.

“Finally you’re talking to me! I was getting lonely without you.”

“Without me? its not like I jumped out the car!” you both giggled and decided to put on some music for the rest of the journey, you were both manically singing to each other, almost like an episode of carpool karaoke. Occationally you’d lean over and place a kiss to Seth’s cheek causing him to smile and blush then he’d tell you that he loved you.

About half way through the journey Seth started whining and poking you again.

“Geeze what now?”

“No where is open and I’d kill for a coffee…literally.

“Really…that’s your problem. You want coffe?”

“Yes and if Cesaro was here he’d have coffee!”

“Oh so you want to replace me with Cesaro now?”

“At the moment yes!” You fained hurt and were about to respond when Seth’s phone started ringing. He handed it to you so you could answer for him.

“Oh look it’s a face time from your new lover.” You chuckled answering Cesaro’s call.

“Heeyyy!” You smiled and tilted the phone so Cesaro could see him too.

“Hey guys! How’s it going?”

“It’s good. Seth won’t stop being mean to me.” You pouted at Cesaro as Seth gasped.

“Don’t listen to her! She’s the one how doesnt have any coffee!”

“Oh you and your damn coffee. Next time I’ll fill my entire case with coffee just for you.”

“Yasssss.” Cesaro was chuckling on the other end of the line, turing your attention back to him you noticed he was shaking his head.

“I was actually calling to see if you two forgot anything?” You and Seth both looked at each other in confusion, mentally running through everything you picked up at the venue. Returning your attention to Cesaro you both shook your head.

“Not this?” Cesaro flipped his camera round to reveal Seth’s bag. Seth did a double take at the picture while trying to keep his eyes on the road.

“That’s not mine.” He looks at the picture again confused. Had he really left one of his bags behind?

“Well it’s got your name on it.” Cesaro turned the camera back to face him.

“I don’t have my name on any of my bags?” Seth looks at you confused and notices the realisation that crosses your face.

“I may have put your name on it in case something like this happened, because lets face it we’re both idiots.”

“Well I have your bag with me so I’ll give it to you at the hotel.”

Seth let out a little sigh of relief. “Thanks man, we will see you there.” You both said goodbye and Cesaro hung up the phone.

“See if I had some coffee I wouldn’t have forgotten my bag.” You rolled your eyes at him and slapped his arm causing him to chuckle, Seth took his had off the wheel to give your’s a squeeze. “FYI I would never replace you with Cesaro. He’s nowhere near as good a cuddler as you are.” He gave you a cheeky smile and pulled your hand up to kiss it.

Prompt from this list.



pairing: daveed diggs x reader

request:  Can you write a FIC where Daveed has feelings for his best friend (reader) n she finds out while playing truth or dare n then she gets mad that Daveed never told n then they end up having hot passionate angry sex ?

summary: reader and daveed and rafa have been friends since college. they’re at a party. this is what happens.

warnings: lots of swearing, lots of alcohol, lots of sex. like, kind of kinky sex. a little bit of choking. if you’re not into that probably don’t read this.

word count: 3,989

a/n: i really wanted to post this before i had to leave my house tonight so there may be errors as i didn’t have time to read it over. this request revived my soul, thank you @mynanimmous for sending it in. AS always, my inbox is open for comments or questions or requests!

“We are not having the party at my place again,” Rafa groans. “There’s no way. I just got the stains out of my carpet from the fourth of July party where someone,” he pauses to glare at Daveed, “dropped an entire tray of cherry and blue raspberry jello shots.”

“Dude, I’ve told you a million times I’m sorry.” Daveed groans.

“Sorry doesn’t get me back my security deposit!”

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In Over Our Heads- a Lucien & Tamlin fic

Summary: A look into Tamlin and Lucien’s reactions when Feyre’s goodbye letter arrives at the Spring Court.

For @feyreaelinmaas from her request in my inbox, I never do this (meaning write things and share them, lol) but I was very intrigued and inspired by the prompt that you asked for! I hope…well, I hope you like it. I’m not sure if it’s what you wanted or expected but…here it is. 

Also thanks to the lovely @abookandacoffee​ for answering my million questions and being a nice beta to me :)


Tamlin was pacing in his study murmuring, like he had been for so many days and nights in the months since past, almost so quiet that Lucien’s Fae ears strained to hear. Mumbling quickly, mostly to himself it seemed, he tossed ideas old and new at Lucien about ways to get Feyre back to the Spring Court.

“Maybe we should let her be, Tam­–“ Lucien started, but was interrupted by the golden-haired High Lord sweeping his long arm across the desk, scattering paperwork, old war books, pens and other debris, his emerging claws leaving deep gouges in the mahogany.

“No! Feyre needs to come home. Her home is here, in the Spring Court. She belongs here, with me. She’s mine,” he says, panting, his rage twisting into something that sounded quite like desperation.

“There’s no way to break the bargain, Tamlin. We’ve tried everything,” Lucien pleaded, turning his russet eye upon his High Lord. Anything to stop this madness. Lucien didn’t doubt his love for Feyre, but it was slowly destroying him. Like a poison, it seeped into his veins, burning and twisting until he wasn’t sure if any of the Tamlin he knew remained.

“We haven’t tried enough! There might be a way yet, Lucien,” Tamlin said, still breathing quite heavily from his outburst. It was clear he had more to say.

Lucien waited for him to continue, keeping a healthy distance between where Tamlin stood behind the trashed desk. The wood of the doorframe dug into Lucien’s back as he leaned against it, feigning a casual look.

“I’ve been speaking with Ianthe, and she says she may know­–may know of a way,“ Tamlin finished.

“There is no way, Tamlin. This is madness. A fool’s errand,” Lucien dared to speak.

“No. Not this way. Ianthe has friends in high places, and–“  

Tamlin stopped speaking as a tiny flash of light appeared over his desk, gone before either of them could blink. In its place, a sealed letter had appeared. As innocent as the scrap of parchment it was, Lucien knew it contained something far more dangerous.

Tamlin stared for a few moments before lunging for the letter like it held the key to his salvation. Lucien hovered near the doorway, knowing somehow, in his gut, that the letter had come from the Night Court.

With slightly shaking hands, Tamlin opened the letter with delicate fingers, his claws mercifully retracted. For now, Lucien thought.  

It took him but a few moments to read the entirety of the letter, or at least, Lucien mused, he had read enough. With a look of utter calm, Tamlin set what Lucien assumed to be Feyre’s letter, down on the marred desk.

“Go find Ianthe,” Tamlin said, in a chilling voice not entirely his own.

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#118 - For anonymous x2

Filling the prompt “Netflix and chill to a horror movie? Van isn’t scared at all and keeps trying to seduce the main character.” and “Y/N (the reader) and Van watch a scary film and Van ends up being proper scared and is legit following you everywhere but he is really cute about it? Like he does cute things/actions so you don’t get annoyed with him??”

Note: Would Van be afraid of horror movies? My money is on no. The two requests are essentially the same, with that point of difference. Hopefully I reconciled it enough to make both requesters (and all of you) happy!

All the best things in life are contradictory in nature. Van McCann is the perfect illustration of that point. Take his lyrics, for example. Concise and eloquent, they tell detailed stories with precise language and an impressive vocabulary. Contrast this to Van’s every day pattern of speech. The drawn out stories that go nowhere, and the constant use of slang that nobody really understands without explanation. Another example is his grace on stage. He balances on speakers and the thinnest of ledges without falling. Off stage, he is a constant canvas of bruises and scratches from tripping over and walking into things. Lastly, there is the mix of his personality traits. Easily the most motivated and determined person you’ve met, Van also spent four days eating only two minute noodles and not showering out of sheer laziness. He is a walking contradiction, and you love him for it.

Another beloved contradiction of yours are horror films. You’re easily terrified, and dread the racing heart and the moments where you know something is going to make you jump, but there are hardly any other genres represented in your film collection. “Why do you do this to yourself?!” Van would say, laughing at your genuine fear. You would shrug, and cuddle down into the blankets more, like maybe the dead girl with long dark hair couldn’t twist her fucked up body under there and get you.

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My Dearest (Thayne Jasperson x Reader)

Pairing: Thayne Jasperson x Reader (modern)

TW: some swearing

A/N: this is my first fic on here and it may be trash (then again it might not so i have that going for me).

Word Count: 2,343

You waited in the line of your favorite hole in the wall coffee shop. The Daily Grind had been your second home since you had moved to New York, having nowhere to go after your family hadn’t supported your dream. All you wanted when you walked in was a decent cup of coffee, but you walked out with a new tight circle of friends. You found yourself walking back to The Daily Grind whenever you wanted to clear your cluttered mind. Soon enough, the small café on the end of 46th street became your go to spot to get a fresh, steaming cup of what you were sure was the nectar of the gods.

You tapped your foot absent mindedly to the beat of the Hamilton soundtrack that softly thumped through your earbuds. Although Hamilton had only been showing on Broadway for a few weeks, it had been the talk of everyone you knew. You had listened to the album front and back countless times and knew almost every lyric. You listened to it as you woke up and when you went to bed in the late hours of the night because something about it was so compelling.

“Hey, Y/N!” The cheery voice of The Daily Grind’s cashier, Sara, interrupted Farmer Refuted as you hit pause and tugged out one earbud. “I’m guessing you want your usual, with the fuckton of sugar?”

You dramatically placed a hand over your heart and pouted your lip. “You know me so well, how sweet.”

A grin fell on her face at your antics as she passed your order onto another employee. “Only the best for our most valued customer. Let me tell you, you’re sure a sight for sore eyes. The shop’s been busy ever since Hamilton hit Broadway. We’ve been slammed with customers before and after the shows since we’re the closest café.”

“Hey, any business is good business.” You stepped aside, suddenly remembering you were holding up a slightly angry line as Sara nodded and handed you your cup of sweet goodness.

You sighed in relief as the warmth of the cup met your palms. Recently, it seemed like coffee was the only thing that kept you going. You spun on your heel, ready to leave the shop just as you abruptly ran into a strong, solid figure. Before you knew it, your coffee was splattered all over your clothes and the ground. In the mess of this, your phone had fallen from your hand onto the floor along with your earbuds. At this point, you were more disappointed about your wasted coffee than your most likely shattered phone and damp clothes.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, I—here—let me help you with that.” Your head snapped up at the sweet sounding voice as you saw the man grab about twenty napkins. His eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was shaped into a worried frown as he continued to apologize to the employees as well, muttering to himself.

“Christ, Thayne, you can’t even walk down the street without making a mess.”

You laughed quietly to yourself, taking in Thayne’s features: his vivid chocolate eyes, his chestnut hair, and god, his teeth were brighter than your future.

But why did this all look so familiar to you? You felt like you had known Thayne from somewhere you couldn’t quite place.

You were taken away from your thoughts as Thayne stepped in front of you, frantically giving you more napkins than you knew what to do with. You patted the napkins on your shirt as you desperately tried to rid your clothes of the stain with no avail.

“Again, I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am, that was totally my bad I—” His eyes filled with worry as you attempted to get the splotchy stain out of your clothes.

You glanced up at him for a second, in awe of how polite he was being to you. “Hey, it’s okay, I wasn’t watching where I was going. You’re fine, don’t worry too much about it.”

“Wait, what?” Thayne’s eyes flicked up to you at your words, as if he didn’t believe what you had just said.

“I said it’s okay. It’s just a little spill.”

“Oh,” he sighed, his muscular shoulders immediately dropping in what it seemed was relief. “Thank you so much, usually people on the streets yell at me to watch where I’m going! I’m just surprised is all, heh.” He looked down to your phone on the floor, swiftly bending down to pick it up.

“Yeah, some New Yorkers aren’t the most forgiving—what?” You were cut off by Thayne’s joyous laughter as he took a glance at your phone.

He grinned up at you and returned your phone, giggles still threatening to escape his lips. “Farmer Refuted, huh?”

You slipped your phone in the back pocket of your jeans, a ghost of a smile spreading on your face at the mention of one of your favorite Hamilton songs. “Yeah, I was going through what must be my tenth run through of listening to Hamilton.”

“You must be a pretty big fan, eh?”

“You could say that.”

“Well, I happen to know quite a bit about Hamilton myself.” He cocked his head, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You raised one eyebrow at his claim. “Do you now?”

He hummed. “Mhm. How ‘bout this: I’ll pay for your coffee, no ifs, ands, or buts about it, either. I can get my order, then we can sit down and you can tell me everything you think you know about Hamilton.”

This man was too sweet, you almost couldn’t believe it. He immediately apologizes for something that was clearly your fault, and now he offers to pay for the coffee that you spilled?

He was as sweet as the “fuckton” of sugar in your coffee.

“Wait—you really don’t need to pay for that—”

“Ah ah ah! What did I say?” He turned around to face you, an exuberant smile plastered on his face as he placed himself in the line to order.

You huffed, accepting your defeat. “No ifs, ands, or buts.” You grumbled.

“That’s better. Smile more.

“Oh my god.” You made your way to a table near the back of the shop along the wall, pulling your phone out of your pocket to check the potential damage from when you had dropped it. To your surprise, and by some miracle, there were no visible cracks on the screen. You sighed, relief instantly flooding through you as you turned on your phone and played a game to pass the time while you waited for Thayne.

When you got bored of playing games, you glanced up at the clock. It had been ten minutes since Thayne told you he would order both of your coffees. You craned your neck to see Thayne at the counter, waiting for the order. Your eyes grew wide at the sight of twenty cups in front of him.

Who the hell were those for?

Sara placed one more cup in front of Thayne, giving him multiple trays to keep the coffee from spilling as he made several trips to your table.

After he placed the final tray to the side, he sat down, handing you your usual.

“Why in the world do you have all of those cups?” Your eyebrows furrowed, amazed at how much Thayne had ordered.

“I’ve got a lot of, uh, friends that need it…Oh!” He exclaimed after taking a sip of his own drink. “I haven’t even introduced myself yet!”

He stuck a hand out towards you across the table. “Jasperson. Thayne Jasperson.”

You giggled, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. “L/N. Y/N L/N.”

“You’ve got yourself a nice name, there.” Thayne sipped his coffee.

“Thanks, it was a birthday present.”

Thayne practically did a spit take as he cackled at your joke, his eyes crinkling. “Why did I laugh at that?”

“Because I’m funny as hell, duh.” You laughed at his reaction for a minute until you two settled down.

Thayne fiddled with his fingers, looking up at you. “Have you ever gone to a Hamilton show?”

You nearly choked on your coffee, covering your mouth with your hand. “God, I wish. Have you?”

He shook his head, a smile spreading on his lips. “Me? No, a couple of my friends have, though. They said it was really good.”

“How can it not with that amazing soundtrack? All of the songs are so genius and everyone has such amazing voices.”

He nodded in agreement. “Heh, I suppose so. So, uh, what do you do? Like, for a living?”

“Ah, not much, I’m basically your stereotypical struggling actor. Came to New York because my family didn’t support me, l live in a small apartment, I’m taking every opportunity for musicals that I can. I do teach acting classes, though, down the road. I figured I could help other people find their talent, instead of wasting mine. Enough about me, though. What do you do?”

“I dance, was in a couple productions here and there, y’know. That acting class thing sounds really cool, though. That’s awesome that you’re inspiring younger people.”

“Mhm.” You smiled. “As weird as it sounds, I kind of like watching the kids struggle—”

“Yeah, that is pretty weird—” He laughed heartily.

“Shhh!” Your face broke into a grin. “When they struggle and keep working towards a goal, it makes it so much better to see when they reach the goal. When it clicks. They try so hard to do something, and then all of the sudden they nail it and this smile just never leaves their face, it's—it’s why I still have that job.”

Thayne listened intently, his attention never diverting as a warm, soft smile that reached his eyes spread across his face; one that made you feel safe. “I can just tell you have some great talent in you, you know that? You’re so passionate about what you do and being able to teach kids all these technicalities that go into acting and dancing and singing is no easy job. You’re more interesting than I thought, Y/N.”

A blush rose to your cheeks as you laughed from embarrassment. “That’s really sweet of you; no one really cares to compliment my work, especially in the performing arts. My parents just said my dream would get me nowhere, no matter how hard I worked. They didn’t think I was talented, so I don’t really think so anymore either.”

“Hey,” Thayne reached across the table and placed his hand over yours, his eyes serious, yet still holding some kind of safety you couldn’t quite place. “Don’t you dare say that to yourself. Excuse my language, but fuck what your parents say! All that matters is that I’m here and I believe that you have what it takes to make it big! And from what I’ve seen, you are a lovely, lovely person and anyone who doesn’t want to work with you after this first impression doesn’t deserve you. You understand me?”

You nodded your head inhaled sharply, surprised by his sudden outburst. You had only known Thayne for a mere thirty minutes, and you already had such a strong connection with him. You felt your eyes begin to well up with tears at the thought of him thinking so highly of you after just meeting you. Thayne’s eyes were soft and he gasped slightly at the sight of you.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” He got out of his seat, crouching down beside you and taking your hands in his. “Was it something that I said? Because I tend to—”

“No, no, it’s nothing you said.” Your voice shook. “Well—maybe—but the point is, no one has ever truly believed in me and my dream. And to just hear you say those things, it’s…relieving.”

Next thing you knew, Thayne’s strong arms wrapped around your form as he rubbed your back. “Y/N, I know what it’s like to not have anyone rooting for you, and it absolutely sucks. That’s why I just want you to have some hope, I don’t want you to feel this way because no one deserves it. I believe in you because I can see talent in you, you’re literally dripping in it. I’m not saying this just to say it, y’know?”

You nodded against his shoulder as you pulled away from him, a small smile on both of your faces.

“You good?” Thayne asked. “Because if you’re gonna cry again I can give you another hug, you know, I specialize in those. Heck, I might as well put it on my resume.”

His comment caused you to giggle uncontrollably as he took his seat again and beamed at you.

“That was totally better than my name joke.” You looked up at Thayne.

“You bet it was.” Thayne pulled out his phone, turning it on to check the time as his eyes widened. “Oh shi—shoot. Shoot. I need to take these orders back to my friends. Y/N, can I see your phone real quick?”

“Uhh, sure?” You unlocked your phone and handed it to Thayne as he tapped the screen, his tongue poking out of the corner of his lips.

“Annnnd, here you go.” Thayne placed your phone in your hand as he grabbed the trays of countless cups. “I’ll see you soon?”

“I sure hope so.” You laughed at the sight of Thayne trying to hold 5 trays at one time as he walked towards the door of the shop.

Thayne turned back towards once more, a big smile spreading across his face. “I hope so too, Y/N.”

As he exited the café, Sara gave a pointed look towards you, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Looks like Y/N’s got themselves a boyfrienddd!

You shook your head in embarrassment, your cheeks flushing. “No…”

“You wish, though.”

You paused for a second, your eyes still on the door Thayne walked out of just minutes ago. “I guess so.”