just look at his stupid face and his stupid smile and his stupid hair

My Rich American Family

by reddit user aliceinvunderland

I am part of a rich American family, in a rich American suburb, full of rich American people.

Life is hell.

Every morning, me and the rest of the Wives get up at 5:00am sharp. Fifteen minutes of jogging around the neighborhood, five minutes in the shower (set to cold), twenty minutes for hair and makeup, and then five to get dressed. If we’ve managed that in time, meaning no later than 5:45am, we might be allowed solid food with our coffee.

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Flirting is Hard When You’re Harry Potter

Original headcanon by @ harry-is-lily-ginny-is-james!!!

It’s still monday! …for a half an hour anyway. This one ended up being much bigger than I originally planned. I hope you like it~

(Now posted on AO3!)



“It’s all the paper talks about anymore,” Draco frowned, “Stupid Potter.”

“We’re agog,” Blaise said pouring himself and Draco a cup of coffee.

Pansy smothered a yawn and picked up a piece of toast, “Do tell.”

Draco folded his paper, eyes scanning past the picture to the drivel written below, “Potter’s going to join the auror’s, change the world,” he grumbled, “you’d think the sun shines out of his arsehole the way they go on about him.”

Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Couldn’t agree more,” A voice said behind him from the Ravenclaw table, “that Potter’s a total pillock.”

“Exactly-” Draco turned on his bench, his words choking off before they were halfway out of his mouth.

“I really don’t know what they see in him,” Potter said flatly, taking a massive bite of pancake.

Luna smiled absently at Potter’s side, “I don’t know, I’ve always thought he was quite nice.”

Potter picked up his pumpkin juice, “To-tal pil-lock.”

Draco felt his face go hot and he spun around back to his plate. Blaise quickly picked up his coffee cup to hide a growing smile. Pansy snorted, almost choking on her toast, she ducked her head and fumbled for her cup.

Draco grabbed his bag and left the table with an imperious sniff.

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Stay for the night

So… I had this idea earlier today and I’ve been working on it since 3PM. I hope you guys enjoy it and please let me know what you think! Lots of love, B xx

The house is empty and silent, much different than when you first arrived and the last bottles of beer and wine have been tossed in the bin just outside of Harry’s kitchen. You’ve managed to tidy things up a bit, make the house less messy than when his drunk guests left almost half an hour ago and now, after washing your hands from the sticky remnants of beer that got all over them while you cleaned up, you can finally try and find him and bid your goodbyes.

When you do find him, he’s sitting on his couch, legs spread open and a hand resting on his tummy, his head tipped back and resting against the back of the couch, a frown on his forehead and his lips pressed in a tight line - if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s fighting nausea but you know the truth. You know he’s just about to pass out and sleep for the rest of the night on his couch and the only thing he’s waiting for is for you to leave - he’s too much of a gentleman to let you just leave without saying goodbye.

Smiling, you stand between his legs, one knee resting on the small bit of the couch that’s available and you lean forward, hand reaching for the curls that fall across his forehead, your fingers pushing it back in a slow rub against his scalp and he hums in appreciation of the gesture.

“Everyone’s gone.” You inform him, thumb smoothing across the frown lines on his forehead and he relaxes under your touch, his face turning softer, his lips opening around a sigh of contentment. “I’ve cleaned up so you don’t have to do it tomorrow.”

“Didn’t have to.” He says and you can see his sleepy green eyes open to glare at you, but the effect of his intended angry stare is just a grumpy and pouty, too sleepy to look menacing stare. “‘M a grown man, can do my own cleaning.”

“Know you are…” You giggle, cupping his face in one of your hands and rubbing your thumb across his pouty lips. “Just wanted to help.”

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like real people do | jungkook

summary: the feelings for your friends with benefits are changing. months pass, and you feel your gut telling you that you want more. you’re just not sure if he feels the same. 

piece 1, piece 2, piece 3

college student!reader, friends with benefits!jungkook

based off hozier’s song ‘like real people do’

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Star Light, Star Bright

Originally posted by daenso

Star Light, Star Bright
Ship: Shooting Star/ Guardian Angel!Jimin | Reader
Description: When you wish upon a star, you never really think he’d come to visit.
Warnings: Fluff, Intercourse, Fingering, Slight Cum Play, Slight Dirty Talk, ANGST
Word Count: 7,595
A/N: Fluffier (sorta) than my other writings, and maybe not as dirty. It’s still there though. I was starting to think I’d never get around to writing this but I’m so glad I finally finished!

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Finding you

Originally posted by taesscripts

Words: 5992

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut

It has pretty much everything but there is a point where there will be smut so if you don’t fancy something like that you can just skip the part.

Description: Your cousin gave you a gift. It’s a pen, a pen that whatever you write upon your skin with it will also appear on your soulmate’s. Silly stuff, how can what you write with a stupid pen appear on your soulmate’s skin?

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Frosting and Crushes

Summary: Newt has been distant the past week, focusing only on Tina and their work. You try to strike up conversation with him at dinner, but, after many failed attempts, grow irritated and leave early. Queenie decides to take matters into her own hands.

Word Count: 2,224

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Requested by Anonymous

Requests are currently open! Feel free to send one in


You sit at the dinner table with no goal but to enjoy the meal as Queenie flutters around, stirring pots with both her hands and magic. She already denied your offer to help, so you decided to pass the time talking with her. Newt had disappeared somewhere, probably inside the case, and you had immediately decided against a walk when you glanced at the growing grey clouds outside.

Inside is warm and cozy. You’re wearing your favorite gold sweater. The heat from the cooking keeps out the bite of chilly air rattling the windows. Queenie is humming a jazzy tune you’ve never heard before, only stopping to giggle at Jacob’s red face when he bumps into her.

“I’m sorry.” He says as his face turns a shade of tomato red.

“It ain’t a problem, honey.” Queenie doesn’t break a stride. “What is it you’re making?”

You’re pretty sure she asks it for your sake, given the sounds your stomach has been making since he stuck the pastries he’d spent all afternoon making into the oven, and the smell had spread throughout the small room.

“Special strawberry turnovers.”

“What makes them so special?” You ask, raising your voice over the bubbling, clanking, and simmering sounds filling the area.

“They’re my momma’s recipe. Filled with love and one other special ingredient.”

Queenie swings by Jacob with the pot of stew in hand. “I don’t think nutmeg is very secret, honey.” Five bowls float down into their places around the table as Queenie sets the stew in the center.

“I never said –“

“You don’t have to.” She smiles at him and lifts the pot’s lid.

The rich smell wafts over the table to you. You breathe it in, closing your eyes to revel in the memories it brings back. Your mother always made beef stew with potatoes and chopped carrots for special occasions. Mentally thanking Queenie, you slide your chair back and step toward the pot, scooping the stew in until it nearly sloshes out the side. Queenie merely smiles at you and twirls around Jacob.

She resumes her humming. The turnovers mix with the scent of the stew and your mouth waters. The windows shake, generating a beat that Queenie forms her music around. Jacob’s laugh fills the warm room, and your entire world, for once, is at peace.

Your content joy only expands when Newt walks in, messy auburn hair plastered against his forehead from the rain sprinkling outside, giant, beautiful smile stretched across his face. You glance at your stew, fighting the huge smile trying to break upon your face. Queenie kicks you under the table and, when you meet her gaze, lifts an eyebrow. You give a quick nod before staring back down at your food, trying to resist beaming.

The fight becomes much easier when Tina walks in behind Newt, also covered in water, smile upon her face.

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anonymous asked:

What would the guys do if they hear their crush say "me? who would like someone like me?" because they can't believe anyone would like them

Aw nonnie this is a sad/cute one. I hope this is alright! 

Noctis:

 - Noctis would be able to tell you were feeling a little glum, and when you had a few precious moments alone, he’d ask you what was wrong.
- You would try and brush it off at first, it’s not like you want to burden him with something like that…
- But this would just make the prince feel a bit useless, he’d really want you to confide in him. 
- You’d take a big sigh, and finally tell him. You feel lonely. You feel like a bit of a spare part. Everyone was settling down, even Noctis had his marriage to Luna. But you were just left on your own, as always.
- “Hey, don’t be so stupid.” 
- Stupid? This would anger you, you just confided in him like he asked and he calls you stupid?
- Noct would see how irate you were getting, and instantly feel bad.
- “Wait, that’s not what I meant!” And it honestly wasn’t. When will this boy learn to deal with his feelings and say the right thing?
- “Sorry that I’m bothering you with my stupidity Noctis.”
- “Look, that isn’t what I meant by it!”
- He panics that he’s really screwed this up.
- “Sure! I’m just whittling away for nothing!”
- “Well, yeah because-”
- “I should just get used to it.”
- “What?”
- “I mean, who would ever like me?”
- “I would!”
- There would be silence as you digest what Noctis had just said. 
- “You…? But what about Luna?”
- Okay, now his heart is racing.
- “We are friends, good friends, but this arranged marriage… It isn’t for me. Look, I’ve been trying to tell you… I, well, like you.” 
- His eyes sink to the floor and he plays with his arm band nervously. Now it’s calmed down he is self-conscious and can’t believe he just blurted that out…
- You’re stunned. Noctis… liked you? 
- He finally looks at you, unnerved by your silence
- Damn, have I really over stepped the mark this time?
- “Noct… you like me?”
- You can see little splashes of red colour his cheeks as he answers.
- “Y-yeah I do… is that okay?”

 Prompto:

- Prompto would be heading towards the tent one night, after you had disappeared for a while. He was starting to get worried as to where you were!
- As he gets closer to the tent, he can hear your voice… He doesn’t want to intrude if you were on the phone. Though, it didn’t seem like you were…
- He listens for a bit. He knows he shouldn’t, but he just can’t help it. There was just something in the tone of your voice that made him stay, a little twinge of something like… sadness?
- “I’m not like Cindy, or Aranea, I’m just…not.”
- They are definitely talking to themselves. He realised.
- And then you said it. 
- “But really… me? Who could ever like someone like me?”
- It’s almost like you could hear Prompto’s heart crack.
- No. No no no no.
- He recognises the pain in your voice, he understands the self-doubt, he knows it all too well.
- Before he could stop himself or even think about what he was doing, he’d push open the tent flap and take you in his arms.
- There are tears pooling in his own eyes.
- “You should never, never have to feel that way. Not you. Not someone like you.”
- It’s hard to hear him as his voice is muffled, his face buried in your neck. His grip is tight, and he can’t even think about how forward this might be because he just has to make sure you know you’re loved.
- “I like you, I like you, I like you.” He can’t say it enough.
- His words warm your heart.
- You both sit like that for a while, just holding each other until the tears stop. 
- He pulls away, and gently whispers; “It’s you. It has been for a while now. I really like you.”
- You can hardly believe your ears. 
- Still holding you, he looks you in your eyes still wet with tears, now smiling a little sheepishly.
- “So… what do you say?”

Gladiolus:

- Prompto would be chatting away about Cindy, as usual, and you would roll your eyes.
- “Tch, she’s pretty lucky.” 
- Gladio would hear your mumbling, and fall behind the other three to walk with you instead. 
- “Hey, what’s that?” He’d ask, friendly as always.
- “Well, it’s lucky Cindy has someone to feel that way about her.”
- Gladio would raise his eyebrows in surprise and a little in doubt as well.
- “I’m not so sure she sees it that way.”
- “I guess, but at least she knows she’s wanted.”
- By now the other three guys are just a blip in the distance, walking back to the regalia.
- “What do you mean by that?”
- “Well, just that I’d love to be in her shoes. It’s not like anyone will ever feel that way about me.”
- Did they really just say that?
- Suddenly his strong arm juts out in front of you, preventing you from walking any further.
- You look at Gladio in shock, to see that his jaw looks clenched and he looks kind of… angry.
- “Gladio…?”
- “Is that what you truly think?”
- You nod, unable to do more and he finally looks at you.
- “Then, you don’t realise how crazy I am about you.”
- Your heart skips a beat at his words.
- “H-huh?”
- He retracts his arm now, standing up to face you.
- “Why else do you think I always let you fall asleep on me in the car? Because I love the way you feel in my arms. Or when I always ask you for help setting up camp, it’s because I really enjoy your company.”
- He would stand in front of you now, the familiar smile you know and love back.
- “Honestly, these past few weeks you’ve been driving me crazy, and then you say no one would feel like that about you?”
- He shook his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes.
- “Well, I’m telling you now, I do. You don’t have to like it, I’ll understand if you don’t and I’ll speak no more of it. I promise.”
- He tilts his head, fully smiling now at your astounded expression.
- “Well… are you alright with that?”

 Ignis:

- Ignis had noticed you’ve been seeming down lately, choosing to sit in the tent early or sitting in the back of the car in your own world.
- It really starts to concern him, he can’t fathom why you’re feeling this way.
- One night he brings you your food to the tent, seeing if you’re okay.
- You thank him a little despondently, so he sits down next to you and asks if you want to share what has been bothering you.
- Looking into those kind green eyes it’s hard not to start talking about what’s wrong. You knew Iggy was a great listener. 
- So you opened up a little to him.
- “I’ve been watching the others get closer to people lately, Prompto with Cindy, Noctis with Luna for example…”
- “What about it is bothering you?”
- “I don’t know. I guess it just sucks being on your own.”
- “Come now, you’ll meet someone who is just right for yourself.”
- He knows it’s true, even if it’s not with him. Though that thought hurts him more than he’d care to admit.
- You throw Iggy an incredulous look.
- “What? It’s true. You’ll find someone you really like.”
- Oh if only he knew.
- “That’s not the problem. The problem is them liking me. I mean, who the hell would fall for someone like me?”
- Suddenly Iggy’s eyes tighten, and he re-adjusts his glasses.
- He seems… annoyed?
- “Please, do not put yourself down like that. You’re a wonderful person.”
- Huuuuge eyeroll from you.
- “Uh huh, sure.”
- Here comes the generic ‘you’ll get there eventually’ chat.
- “I mean it.”
- “Really?”
- He’s persistent.
- “Yes, you’re funny, gorgeous, intelligent… anyone would be lucky to call you their partner.”
- Well… that you weren’t expecting.
- The fidgeting with his glasses is progressively getting worse, which is unlike Iggy.
- “Why are you saying all of this…?”
- “Because I…” He has to take a deep breath here!
- “I see you that way. And would definitely feel lucky to call you mine.”
- Your heart stops, you can’t believe what you just heard. And he’s looking up at you through those lovely long lashes, and you know he’s being serious.
- Oh my.
- “Iggy…?”
- “I’m sorry if this seems sudden, but please… I have to know how you feel about me.” His green eyes are gazing at yours.
- Oh my.

FUCK YOU - [ JIKOOK ]

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.

Almost.

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

Naturally (Jeff Atkins, 13 reasons)

“I’m fucking illiterate. There’s no point in doing any of this work, Y/N” Jeff sunk lower in his chair. He looked around the library, tapping his pencil at a fast rate.

He hadn’t gotten above a C in English since his freshman year, and he’d never wanted to. That was, until he’d met Y/N.

She made him want to be better, above anything else. And when she offered to tutor him in English, he dropped Clay as his tutor. At least for that subject.

“Jeff, come on. Plenty of people still get homophones mixed up. Hell, when I review my papers I have to go through two different spell check systems because I make mistakes. Okay?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit he had made, it was something he did when he was frustrated.

“Okay, they’re staring.” He looked at the table next to them, a few freshman and sophomores stared at them.

“Who cares, focus on your paper.” Y/N looked back down at her notes, she’d been doing her own homework at the same time as tutoring him. Jeff put a hand on her knee.

“I get that the wifi’s out at my house. But why can’t we go to your place again?” He laid his head down on the table so he could make eye contact with his girlfriend.

“For this exact reason. My dad’s not your biggest fan after last week. They don’t even want us alone upstairs with the door open. So the library will do.” She removed his hand from her knee.

Jeff smirked, remembering the prior week’s events.

“Maybe Clay should go back to being your only tutor. Oh, don’t give me that look, Atkins. You know I wanna help.” Y/N ran her hands through her boyfriend’s hair. He formed his lips into a pouting expression.

“Face it. I’m a lost cause. My girlfriend can’t get anything through my head. The smartest kid in school can’t get me to retain any information. I’m stupid.” He threw his pencil down and slammed his textbook shut, breathing heavily.

He believed it. He said it all the time. A C average GPA didn’t make anyone feel great. But with all of his friends being athletes, he was surrounded by those who thrived and could juggle both school work and sports.

“I’m never gonna get into college.” He said quickly, shaking his head.

“Jeff that’s not-” he continued before letting her finish, not even acknowledging that she’d begun to speak.

“No matter if I hit a home run every single time I’m up to bat this season, I won’t get into any college. Grades matter, Y/N. Being smart matters.”

He grabbed his backpack and stuffed all of his notes and his textbook into his backpack. After he jammed everything into the bag, he tried to zip it. He roughly yanked the bag around, trying as hard as he could before giving up by shoving the full bag off of the table. His hands covered his face, he was crying.

“Let’s go to the car.” Y/N grabbed his backpack, gently working the zippers until they finally shut. She swung the bag over her shoulder, keeping her messenger bag on her other shoulder.

“Come on.” She said firmly.

He scooted his chair out, getting up and walking out of the library faster than she’d anticipated. Y/N caught up with him, soon walking beside him, neither said a word.

“Sorry- I’m sorry if I made a scene.” He mumbled as the two approached his car.

“We need to talk. Even if you don’t want to.” She sighed, opening the passenger door and sliding in.

“You wanna know why I think I’m stupid?You, My own girlfriend gave up on me. Is it possible to sink lower than that?” Y/N handed Jeff his backpack, knowing that would force him to look at her.

“Why the hell would you say that?” Her eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m an idiot. What’s gonna happen when I don’t get into college? And I’m here for the rest of my life, still managing the batting cages. And you’re off at some big city actually living your life.” He was being honest about how he felt, that she knew for sure now.

“Stop it. But how the hell do you think this means I want to give up on you? I’d never. You’re giving up on yourself.” Y/N slid over the middle seat of his pick up truck and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“You don’t wanna tutor me. You can’t tutor me. I’m a lost cause, aren’t I? Even Clay gets frustrated ‘cause I can’t learn.” Jeff snaked his arm around her shoulders.

She looked at him. He knew she’d get frustrated. He knew she’d say it was untrue. But it wasn’t untrue. It just wasn’t.

“Jeff, that’s not how I meant it. I just think it’s hard to mix business with pleasure. Do you know what I mean?” She smirked at him before soothing him by drawing small circles on his hand with her thumb.

“My stupidity is too distracting to get through any actual teaching.” He stared at the peddles of his vehicle.

“You know what I think your problem is?” She sat up, staring at him with her arms folded across her chest.

“What’s that?” He looked up, smiling weakly.

“Baseball comes really easily to you. You’re a natural. Maybe I’m not a natural at sports, but I’m a natural with school. Don’t you see? We all have strengths and weaknesses and sometimes we have to work harder to accomplish certain things.” She was proud of her explanation. He just stared at her for a little while.

“Jenson’s best to help me. You’re right.” He grabbed the tips of her hair and twirled them around his fingers.

“You know what else I’m right about?” She grinned at him. He arched an eyebrow, not totally sure as to what was going to be said next.

“What’s that?” He verbally acknowledged her.

“My parents won’t know if we study at the abandoned parking lot on Lincoln instead of at the library.” She grabbed his knee the way he had grabbed hers in the library.

His eyes widened, before a shit eating grin took over his face.

“Well alrighty.” He looked behind, backing out of the school lot quickly. This was something he thought they were both naturally just fine at.

Superfamily Thing

Dad and pops were fighting again.


They had been for at least a week now. Peter was used to the occasional blowup for a night, maybe two, before they got all stupidly sappy with one another again.
This was new. Scary.

They avoided each other in the day and screamed at each other in the night when they thought he was asleep. Pops had been sleeping in the spare room for at least six of the seven nights it had been going on for. Dinner time had become a nightmare; Uncle Clint having to swap seats so he was sat in between them and prevent another fight from springing up while they ate.


He didn’t want them to split up. Divorced parents were a pain in the ass, according to the girl who sat next to him in math class. She was always talking about what a hassle it was, moving all her stuff from one house to another every weekend.

And it meant one of them would have to leave. Move out. Get a new life and a new partner and maybe even a new kid-

But Peter really didn’t want to think about that.


Today was the fifth day of Peter coming home to see only one of his parents in the kitchen, where there should usually be two. They tended to hang around, waiting for him in order to ambush him and ask questions about his day. Their latest fad was ‘so how was Wade today?’ or something along those lines, in that stupid sing-song voice that adults always did when they were being dicks.

It had been irritating- but Peter wouldn’t have minded now. If it meant they’d been doing it together, sending stupid smirky grins toward one another or just holding hands at the table rather than looking cold and tired- he wouldn’t have minded at all.


Today it was dad who greeted him. He was sat with a coffee in hand and tablet in the other, idly tapping at the keys and trying to keep his eyes open. Peter knew he hadn’t been sleeping well- it wasn’t exactly hard to tell. And although they never spoke to him about what they did with the avengers, Peter could guess that that had been the trigger for all the stupidity lately. 

He didn’t have to be the genius he was in order to figure that out. Pops hadn’t come back from the mission two Fridays ago; they’d hurried him off to hospital instead. And then three days later, once he’d been given the all-clear, dad had brought him home, where they’d proceeded to have  a huge argument. Right in front of Peter. 

Honestly, he’d just wanted to be able to sit with pops and make sure he was okay- let him stroke his hair and quiet his worries and say how tough he was, that he wouldn’t go down that easy. But instead he’d had to be hurried away by Uncle bruce, who was rolling his eyes and apologizing on behalf of them, saying that he’d be able to talk to his pops soon, but it wasn’t a good time right now.

Peter had scowled, told Uncle Bruce moodily ‘I’m thirteen, not an idiot- I know that’, and then slammed up to his room to wait it out. And, of course, Pops had hobbled up eventually; sitting on the bed with him and assuring him he was okay, he was tough as nails, and he would always, always come home to Peter.


Except he’d been alone. and usually, no matter how mad they were at each other, Pops and Dad had always talked to Peter about this together.

That had been the first warning. From then on, it had seemed things just got progressively worse.


“Hey squirt- how was school?” Dad asked, when Peter dropped his bag and began making his way into the kitchen in order to make himself a bowl of cereal (he was a growing boy, okay, shut up, cereal in the afternoon was perfectly fine, his Uncle Clint did it all the time).

he shrugged. “Eh- it was okay. Boring, as usual; they gave us a test, I aced it, again, as usual,” Peter explained, carefully avoiding the fact that they’d been learning about The Battle of New York in lesson that day. He knew it was a touchy subject for his dad, and he didn’t want to risk upsetting him.

Dad raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from his coffee and watching Peter with a look on his face. Peter just sighed. He knew what was coming.

“So how was Waaade?

He sighed. “Ugh, Wade was fine, he smiled at me while i passed on the corridors today and that was literally all that happened. I honestly don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of this, he called me cute once-”

“Once is enough,” his dad shrugged bemusedly, poking Peter in the side as he walked around the table to sit next to him and get to work on his snack. 

“That is not a snack, Peter,” dad said, because unfortunately he was good at reading Peter’s mind like that. “That’s like, a full meal. We’re having dinner in an hour, are you serious-”

“School is hard work,” Peter complained, flopping on to the stool and leaning on his dad’s shoulder theatrically, “It drains me of energy that I need to replenish with Lucky Charms.”

“Natasha will blow her top if she sees you eating that- it’s her turn to cook tonight. And if she chooses to murder you for eating beforehand, then there isn’t much I can do. I know you’re my son, but the whole parent-bond thing only goes so far-”

Peter bumped him on the shoulder and he laughed quietly. It was nice to see the tension ease off his face a little.


Of course, then everything went wrong again.


“Hey Peter, didn’t know you’d be back so ear- oh,” his Pops said, entering the room and faltering when he saw Dad already sat at the table.

There was an awkward pause. Peter guessed they must have got the days wrong for which one of them was going to go and talk to him about his school day. 
That tended to happen when they didn’t actually speak to one another and acted like they were Peter’s Goddamn age.

Pops managed to collect himself, though- walking forward and smiling as he reached out to squeeze Peter’s shoulder, before heading to the cupboards and grabbing a mug. “You had a good day today?”

Peter shrugged, wishing it didn’t feel as tense as it did. Why the hell did parents have to argue anyway? It was stupid. They were being stupid, and Peter just wanted them to kiss and make up already- because that’s what they did, that’s what they always did, right? This wasn’t going to last, it couldn’t- Peter didn’t want to have two homes, he didn’t want Dad to marry someone else or Pops to have different kids-


It was only then that he realised Dad and Pops had moved, resting a hand on each shoulder while he leaned forward on to the table and hid his crumpled face in the crook of his arms.

 “Peter! Hey, baby, what’s happened, did something go down at school-”

“Do we need to go in, because we’ll go in, okay- whatever’s wrong, we’ll sort it out. Are you being bullied?”

“Did someone hurt you?”

“Did you have an argument with your friends?”

“Were y-”

“IT’S YOU TWO!” Peter yelled, jerking upward again and throwing his hands in the air. “God, this is the first time you’ve been this close to each other in ages! I haven’t seen you look each other in the eye when you’re around one another except to argue! Why the hell are you both being so stupid? I don’t…I don’t want you to get divorced! But you will and then you’ll both find stupid new people and have stupid new lives and leave me behind and we won’t be a family any more and I don’t want that so just STOP FIGHTING!”

He didn’t stop to listen to whatever stupid crap they tried to throw at him; instead kicking the chair he was sat on over and storming out of the room angrily, ignoring their calls and running up into his room before they could bother him. 

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I Know Your Wife (She Wouldn’t Mind) - Part Twenty

Summary: Your adoption is finalised and you get to know your new extended family at what you think is an Independence Day party. Genevieve corners you on your way back to the party, and Danneel helps you escape and relax when it all gets too much
Jared x Reader x Gen, Jensen, JJ, Donna, Gino, Danneel (mentioned extended Ackles/Graul family)
Words: 3.5k
Warnings: fluff, f/f kissing, mildly nsfw chat
Beta: @blacksiren

I Know Your Wife - Masterpost

Your name: submit What is this?

Driving, it seemed, wasn’t as difficult as you thought it would be.

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I'm Sorry (I Fell in Love Tonight)

( PROMPT: I was going through a rough night so instead of doing what we usually do, you made sure I was okay throughout the whole thing and was slow and reassuring and when morning comes I feel so conflicted. )

A/N: Y’all thirsty for friends-with-benefits Peter Parker so I have delivered. This was vaguely inspired by the incredible momosakaki-san’s drabble with fuck boi Peter (YES YES YES GIMME MORE). THANK YOU ALL FOR 1000 FOLLOWERS. WHAT ARE YOU GUYS EVEN DOING HERE. AS A THANK YOU, I’VE WRITTEN A SIN-FILLED DRABBLE WITH PETER AND THE READER BEING FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS. 

WARNINGS: Sin. Filthy sin.

Taglist (permanent): @mainspidey | @x-wing-starwriter |@tomsleftbrow | @tryn25| @tanglefire | @midnight-memorial | @tiny-friggin-human |@tacklemyackles| @fangeekkk | @beamagtuto | @captainaudreystark | @hellosuperewczi | @dasia-aye

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Leave A Message: Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones

Summary: AU, After a night of heavy drinking, Betty Cooper realizes she’s left a series of revealing messages on her crush and roommate, Jughead Jones’s phone. 

Words: 1,600

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, swearing, sexual dialogue but mostly embarrassing fluff. 

A/N: I’ve edited this myself so I apologize for errors. 


Betty Cooper’s head was pounding. She had made the mistake of going out with her roommates Cheryl Blossom and Veronica Lodge to celebrate the end of finals. Now she was sitting at their kitchen island cradling a cup of coffee, trying to figure out if IHOP delivered.

“Good Morning!” Cheryl sang as she skipped into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. Her luscious red was piled up on top of her head and her skin was glowing. She looked like an angel not someone who had partied hard the night before. “How are you?” She asked Betty.

“I’m so hungover” Betty groaned resting her head on her arms. “I’ve never been this hungover.”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t have done all those shots of Liquid Cocaine.” Cheryl chuckled and began taking out a few frying pans. “You want some bacon and eggs?” She asked.

“I do!” Veronica answered, her silk black robe trailing behind her matching her beautiful black hair. She walked up to Cheryl and gave her a soft kiss. Cheryl and Veronica had been dating since before they had left Riverdale and their relationship was goals.

“How are you guys not hungover?” Betty asked.

“We didn’t do three shots of tequila and then perform a Coyote Ugly style dance on the bar. You drank so much you should be dead.” Veronica informed.

“I wish I was dead.” Betty said sliding off her stool and laid on the floor. “The tile is so cold. I love the tile.”

“You’ve seen better days, Cooper.” Jughead Jones exited his bedroom from the other side of the loft and sat in the stool Betty just occupied. Jughead was Betty’s fourth and final roommate and she had developed a deep crush on him since the four of  them had moved from Massachusetts to California for school.  

Jughead had blossomed in the sunshine state. He had taken up surfing and gotten a tan, transforming himself into a ripped golden god. Whatever girls didn’t like about his moodiness in Riverdale, they loved here. Betty hated that she didn’t make a move sooner and now that he was bedding Californian goddesses, she knew she didn’t stand a chance.

“Oh god.” She muttered rolling onto her back. She was so dehydrated she could hear herself blinking. She focused on Jughead messy mop of black hair when he appeared above her.

“Up we go.” He said lifting her into the sitting position. “Take these,” he dropped two extra strength Advil in her palm. “And drink the entire glass.” He instructed.

She did as she was told and steadied herself against him when she stood up. “I need to go back to sleep.”

“Yes, you do.” Jughead agreed walking her back to her room. “Do you need to use the washroom?” He asked.

“I’m not a child, Jug.” Betty snapped.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you not just rolling around on the floor moaning?” He cocked an eyebrow and helped her into bed. She got underneath the covers and he tucked her in. “Get more rest, you’re gonna need it.” He winked and left her room, closing her door.

Her brow furrowed at her choice of words but she was too tired to give it much more thought than that.

She woke up at 3 in the afternoon feeling much better. Still hungover but manageable. She stumbled out into the living room and found Jughead reading a book. “There she is!” He exclaimed. “I got more Advil out and grabbed some water. There is some left over Thai from lunch in he fridge if you are hungry.”

Betty grabbed the Advil, headed over to the kitchen and began heating up her food. Once the Thai was nice and hot she made way back over to the couch.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked not looking up from his book.

“Mmmm” She answered with a mouth full of food.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” He questioned.

She shook her head. “Not really.”

“So you don’t remember dancing on the bar?” He inquired.

She shook her head.

“You don’t remember leading the whole bar in a rendition of ‘Come On Eileen’?”

“How do you know this? You weren’t even there”

“Cheryl was sending me videos.” He paused. “Do you remember making a phone call?”

“It’s 2018, Juggie, no one makes phone calls anymore.” She rolled her eyes and took a gulp of her water.

“You sure about that?” He asked again.

“I haven’t spoken on a phone in like two years.”

Jughead took out his cell, began scrolling and finally pushed a button. He held it up so they could both hear it.

“Jughead, mother fucking, Jones.” Betty’s gravelly drunken voice rasped out of the phone.

Her eyes widened and she started choking on her food.

“You fucking idiot with your stupid hat and your stupid attitude and your stupid face like you don’t know how amazing you are. Well, I guess you kinda do now with that revolving bevy of girls in our apartment all the time. And what is wrong with me huh? I’m hot, I’ve had six guys hit on me tonight. Six!”

She heard herself yell through the phone and she buried her head in her arms. “No, no, no.” She repeated over and over again.

“I’m smart too and my personality is okay, so what’s your problem Jughead, huh? I’ve been told that my vagina is like, the actual best. Like, what do I need to do? I guess there is a possibility that you aren’t interested in me but I’m the tits so why wouldn’t you be.” She paused. “Another thing, you actual piece of shit-” She was cut off and he lowered the phone.

“Please tell me I didn’t call you back.” She asked, looking at him through her fingers.

He was smirking and she wanted to smack him. “That was the first of fifteen messages. My favorite was how you told me that you obsess over how big my penis is but it’s probably just normal size and that you should stop worrying about it because this isn’t a romance novel.” He chuckled.

She made a whiny, crying sound, her face burning hot.

He didn’t say anything like she expected. She expected him to tease her, she expected him to tell her that they were friends but their relationship wouldn’t be anything more than that but he didn’t. She felt his weight on the couch beside her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked.

“Would it made a difference if I did?”

“Uh, yeah, kind of a big difference, do you know how you appear to others? Do you know how intimidating you are?” His voice was soft and sincere.

“What are you talking about?” She snapped, rubbing her temples.

“You’re beautiful, smart and funny. You make everything seem so effortless, you should date an architect or something.”

“Why is everyone so obsessed with architects?” She moaned, falling back into the cushions of the sofa.

Jughead sighed. “Betty, did you ever think about just asking me out?”

She threw him some serious side eye. “Oh yeah Jug, I’ll just walk up to you and be like, ‘Hey, I know we’ve known each other forever and I’ve ignored you for most of it but now that you’re all hot and dating models and shit, you wanna go out on a date?’” She scoffed.

“Okay.” He replied.

“What?” She sat up quickly, wincing when he head throbbed.

“I’ll go out with you.”

“Why? You date hipster girls who wear glasses they don’t need and are way too big for their face. You date girls who always look good in a romper, always have perfect Coachella hair and eat avocado toast everyday. I go days without showering, I’ve slept in the library more than once, I’ve dropped a McDonalds hamburger on the ground and still ate it because I had spent my last dollar on it and it was all I could eat for 17 hours until I got paid. Last night I threw up in my hamper-”

Jughead cut her off with a kiss. Betty was taken aback by the sudden gesture and it took her body a moment to relax and really accept what was happening. Betty had fantasized about this moment every night for months. What he would smell like, what he was taste like, how he would feel. He tasted like the cinnamon tic tacs he was always eating, spicy and sweet. He smelled like clean laundry, the sea and coconuts from using the girls shampoo all the time. Betty ran her hands through his hair bringing him closer to her. His body was hard and muscular and he pushed it against her, his skin warm and tan and so different from what she expected.

He parted from her, a smile on his face. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“Liar.” Betty whispered, her eyes still closed.

“Betty, I’ve had a thing for your since the ninth grade.” He admitted, kissing her again.

“Do you want to take this into the bedroom?” She cooed running her hands over his chest.

“No, Bets.”

Her head jerked back. “What? Why? You take all these girls to bed and not me?”

“Betty, you aren’t all girls, you’re the girl.” He smiled and kissed her again.

She smiled back. “Can you please, for the love of god, delete all the messages I left you.”

“Um, absolutely not, this shit belongs in the MOMA.” He took out his phone. “Prepare yourself for message number two.”

New Girl - Three

One | Two


“No, no! It’s like this.” I shooed Tom out of the way and showed him how to grade the paper again. He groaned and put his hands on the back of the chair I was sitting in.

“Why don’t you just do it then?” I sighed, turning to face him again. It’s been three months since the bar incident, and Tom and I have been getting along quite nicely. We bicker here and there – but, like we’ve noticed, we’re completely different people. It’s expected. We’d go to lunch together, go grocery shopping together and we’ve even gone a couple of, non-successful, double dates.

“You said you’d help grade the homework! I have to make this test that I forgot I assigned tomorrow.” Tom looked at you, his eyebrows pulled in. “What?”

“If you don’t have the test ready,” his hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “why don’t you just reschedule the test?” I opened my mouth to say something, probably to call him an idiot like I usually did, but noticed he had a point. I turned back toward the homework Tom was grading and reached toward my laptop, quickly hitting the ctrl + s keys and saving the work I had already done before closing my laptop. I heard Tom scoff above me, I looked up to see him shaking his head. “Idiot.”

“Shut up, Holland!”

“Well, you’re welcome.” It was my turn to scoff.

“For?”

“Um,” he gave me a look that could only be a duh look, “for saving you time?”

“Oh, you’re right,” I said sarcastically, “thank you, Tom. For having common sense – for once.” He nodded his head, pursing his lips.

“You know what, (L/N)?”

“And they’re fighting again.” Tom and I directed our gaze toward the front door, seeing Jacob and Harrison walk through with a couple of boxes of pizza. I walked over to help Jacob with the drinks as he closed the door.

“We’re not fighting, we’re bickering,” I nudged Harrison’s shoulder, “it’s good for moral.” He rolled his eyes, a smile on his face as he passed me a plate.

“So, you going out with your boy-toy tonight?” I looked up at Jacob, sticking my tongue out at his childish tone.

“Don’t call him that, his name is Tony! And, no, it’s a school night.” I had been seeing Tony for about a month. We started out as just bed buddies and one day something just snapped. When we kissed we didn’t rush it, and he started to stay over more and then he asked me out – he broke the bubble.

“Well, don’t have too much fun with all that homework, tiger,” Tom grabbed his plate and winked at me, grabbing a beer and heading toward his room. I watched as he left, trying to ignore the burning in my cheeks after he winked at me. I tried to replace Tom’s face with Tony’s. Tony, Tony, Tony.

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Playboy, bad boy Kim Taehyung

Originally posted by namjoonie00

Series genre: Smut, angst, fluff

Description: Kim Taehyung, one of the nastiest human beings you have ever been associated with. You despite even breathing the same air as him yet he still somehow finds a place in your life.

note: Park Jimin will also play a major role in this series. Also, this chapter will have some Harry Potter references that are not absolutely necessary to the story itself. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

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Preferences: First ‘I Love You’s

Requested by @aelinashryvergalathynius22 (I worked on this instead of part 7 oh well I needed a distraction)

Rowan:

He says it right before you’re about to leave for a long time. He kisses you passionately and whispers it into your mouth and then sends you on your way before you can even reciprocate the feelings. You cherish the words close to your heart every time you miss him - which is all the time - and a lovesick smile never fails to make it’s way onto your lips every time. When you get back, you race right into his strong arms, feeling home, holding him tightly as he lifts you from the ground. ‘I love you too,” You murmur into his shoulder, and Rowan’s arms tighten just a bit. You don’t part for many minutes. 

Rhysand:

He’s known it ever since he first saw you. He’s wanted to say it every day, every moment since then, but has reigned himself in, refusing to lose you because he can’t control his emotions. Finally, a good couple months after you are together, Rhys finally says it. You’re on a bridge of all places - Rhys says it was so he could jump off it if you had a bad reaction and you slap him for talking that way - and you are both looking out at the slowly flowing river and the sunset just beyond the horizon. His arms are curved around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder and he finally works up the courage to say what he has wanted to for what seems like forever. ‘I love you,’ he announces, tensing just a bit when you don’t respond right away. He awkwardly coughs, ‘just thought you should know.’ You chuckle, relaxing into his hold and leaning back into his chest a bit. “Rhys, I love you too, I didn’t think this was hidden knowledge.’ And that’s when Rhysand realizes that he wasn’t actually being as discrete about his feelings as he thought, and those three words don’t have to be said for both of them to know they are true. 

Dorian:

He says it for the first time during sex, which, for such a avid book reader and romance enthusiast, is actually a bit disappointing. To make up for it though, Dorian worships your body, murmuring those three words into each and every crevice and corner of it. ‘I love you,’ he whispers again when both of your are spent, tucking your into his side and kissing your temple ‘I love you so much, you don’t even know.’ ‘Well you gave me a pretty good estimate just then,’ you giggle, tracing random patterns along his chest. ‘You’re wicked, you know that right?’ He chuckles. ‘I know, but you love me,’ He murmurs into your hair, ‘That I do,’ That thought running through your head sends large waves of tingles throughout your body, making your toes curl and your cheeks hurt with how much you are smiling. Dorian loves you.

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grey zone | (m)

Originally posted by beagletae

• pairing: kim seokjin x reader
• genre/warnings: angst, smut, fluff
• words: 10,481
→ summary: you and Jin used to date, but things ended pretty quickly, realising that maybe you guys weren’t meant to be. Over the past couple of months, he’s had to watch you with another guy, knowing it wasn’t right. However, what can he do when he’s stuck in a grey zone… he knows he too, isn’t right for you, but all he wants is to hold you…?
• note. inspired by grey zone, but I was listening to clairvoyant on repeat a lot too. 

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Cross My Heart

Title: Cross My Heart (Soldier!Dean AU)

Summary: Dean Winchester is a man who’s been to war and back, a man that’s lost loved ones and has seen too much to believe in love or fate or destiny. But when he meets a girl that radiates kindness and warmth, one that’s ready to love his shadowy corners and accept him for the man he really is, he begins to change his mind. And, when she shows him the darkness in her light, he promises himself that, no matter how hard things get, he’ll never let go of her. Because, he realizes, he loves her. And that is the beginning and end of everything

Author: deanssweetheart23

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Mary and John Winchester (both mentioned), Benny Laffite, Sam Winchester

Word count: 7026 (I know, I know it’s a monster fic, but I promise, it’s worth it)

Warnings: Fluff. Angst. Some language. Implied smut. Death of a parent. Loss. Mentions of blood and of the warzone (nothing too graphic). Bad marital relationship (not Dean associated). Domestic Dean Bean (yup, this should be a warning)  

Author’s Notes: This is my submission for @jpadjackles Double Birthday Challenge. My sweet B, thank you for letting me participate. I had the time of my life writing this and I can promise you, it ended up being a fic very close to my heart.

Special thank you to my twin @ravengirl94 for answering my stupid questions about the US Army, and being such an amazing best friend and beta. Without her, this story would have never been posted.

My prompt for this was Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop by Landon Pigg.(I am not American so every detail about the US Army in this fic is the result of research. If there’s a mistake in it, I apologize in advance.)

And, without further ado. Enjoy <3


The first time Dean sees her it’s on his mother’s birthday.

It’s a sunny day, sky a soft shade of blue, summer slowly creeping its way into his life and, even though he’s not sure of a lot of things, he somehow knows she would have loved this day.

He can almost see her, standing in the middle of their garden, sundress blowing with the wind, a smile gracing her lips while he’s whining because there’s no pie, and it’s all so tangible, so real, that he thinks he can reach out and touch her.

Her image disappears as soon as it’d appeared though, and he’s back in the middle of a crowded street, on his way home from training, all alone, with no plans for the day and no mum to celebrate with because his mother’s gone and nothing can bring her back.

The thought pulls at his heartstrings and he can feel it again, that sickening sensation of missing someone so much that all of his body cells are aching for her and he curses under his breath, already loathing the day.

And then she catches his eye.

She’s just sitting there, at the bay window of the old coffee shop that always seems to have some jazz melody pouring out of it, nose buried in a book.

She’s beautiful, he can tell that much, but what really stuns him is the way she’s holding the dog-eared book, fingers grazing the paper gently like it’s soft skin, eyes skimming the pages as she bits her bottom lip, a wrinkle in her brow. It’s been a while since Dean has seen someone so engrossed into something and he loses track of time, forgets that he’s burning holes on her until she looks up and her eyes meet his through the window.

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His ||Jungkook|| 0.4

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Teaser | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4

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