my house is almost a home

+ Meet the blogger + 

Since I’ve gotten a wave of new followers, I wanted to do this little post and encourage my followers to interact with me. :) 

A little about me: 

  • I’m 26 and a winter baby. 
  • Happily married to my high school sweetheart of almost 10 years. 
  • We have a home together, however no kids. 
  • We have a Neo Mastiff, who we adopted shortly after we bought our house.
  • I’ve been around horses my entire life, and currently own two and ride dressage. 
  • I work full time as a home health OT. 
  • I love motorcycles and cars. 
  • Bubble baths and candles are my go-to’s for relaxing. 
  • I enjoy rainy days, but next to fall, summer is my favorite season. 
  • I looooove makeup! 
  • I love trying out new and wild colors with my hair. 
  • I have 7 piercings and 3 tattoos. 
  • It’s never too cold for me to eat ice cream and it’s never too hot for me to drink hot chocolate. 
  • I adore traveling; Ireland is hands down my favorite “vacation” spot. 
  • I enjoy target shooting, but can’t hit the broad side of a barn. 
  • I’m 5′1, so I love wearing heels but rarely get the chance to. 
  • I’m a morning person, but I love stargazing. 

Feel free to message me and chat with me. I love interacting with my followers and it’s always cool to meet other people who have similar interests! 

Mrs Willison’s Homemade Jam

by reddit user FamilialDichotomy

As a child, I was a picky eater like I assume most children are. As my parents tell it, my eating habits transcended normal childhood proclamations of “I don’t like broccoli!” and evolved into a refusal to eat absolutely anything of substance. Things other children might eat and enjoy like chicken nuggets, spaghetti, or even a hot dog were shunned by toddler me. It got to the point, they say, where they and my paediatrician became concerned for my health.

Keep reading

5

ユーリ!!! on Ice - TV & BD/DVD Comparison | episode 1

ep 1 | ep 2 | ep 3 | ep 4 | ep 5 | ep 6 | ep 7 | ep 8 | ep 9 | ep 10 | ep 11 | ep 12
Letterman

Originally posted by dailycwriverdale

A/N: I fought through some wicked writer’s block for this (apologies in advance for if it’s not great) so I hope I can get properly back on track now I’ve forced myself out of my rut 

Request: Archie x River vixen!reader where they make out in Freds truck and he catches them.

Word Count: 1,682

Warnings:There’s some heavy duty smooching involved.

Keep reading

You’ll always have a home- Jughead Jones

Pairing: Jughead Jones x Reader

Warnings: Angst, kissing, like a makeout kinda part? Is that even a warning?

Description: Jughead seemed off lately, with Jason’s death, and the drive-min closing, reader can tell something is off, but cant really pinpoint what

—————————————————————

The first time I could tell something was off was when I mentioned the coffeemaker. It was funny how something as simple as the mention of a coffee pot was the spark of my curiosity towards the situation.
“I swear to god, you drink so much coffee, I’m just going to get you a pot for your birthday so you can save some money.” And there it was, the slight twitch in his shoulders and the split second of a tense look on his face before he began laughing along. It was so quick, I was surprised I even caught it, but I did.
 I never asked about Jughead’s home life. He always steered clear of it so I figured it was a touchy subject. I wondered why I hadn’t been invited over in… well…. ever. Then I started putting together the bits and pieces of information and realized: I hadn’t a clue what roof Jughead was sleeping under at night.
Obviously, it was time to investigate.
And I had the perfect opportunity one afternoon.
“Shit, I forgot my textbook at home.” Jughead muttered, his head ducked down and searching in his schoolbag.
“We can walk to your house and get it if you want.” There it was, the tense-up. Jughead froze in his tracks for a split second before regaining his composure and kept walking. To anybody else, it would have looked normal, but I wasn’t anyone else. I was his best friend, and he was the boy I was in love with.
“No, it’s fine. I can just use yours, right?” Jughead looked at me with almost pleading eyes, and I didn’t want to egg him on any longer. I wanted him to open up and tell me the truth, not shut me out.
“Yeah, of course.” I smiled up at my friend and he smiled back reassuringly. Deep down, I knew something was wrong.
And a week later, I began to confirm those suspicions.
“Can you believe they’re shutting down the drive-in?!” Jughead screeched at me one morning as I walked up the front steps of our school.
“Wait, what?” I gave him a confused look.
“Yeah! Apparently an “anonymous buyer” gave the mayor an offer she just couldn’t refuse” Jughead through his hands up in dramatic sarcasm before scoffing and folding them over his chest angrily.
“Juggie, I’m sorry you’re going to lose your job, but- “
“it’s more than just my job, y/n!” Jughead paused for a second. I watched his Addams apple move quickly as he gulped down words that were threatening to pour out of his mouth. “It’s, it’s, it’s a special place! It’s special to us! I took you there when you first moved here! Remember?!”
“Yeah.” I laughed, thinking back to the memories of Jug and I sneaking up to the film roll room and watching through the peek hole while Jughead made sure the tapes were switched out on time.
“hello?! Earth to y/n?” Jughead waved his face in front of me, and I brought myself out of my quick trip to the past, listening to Jugheads rambling about the drive- in.
Jughead brought it up later to our friends as we ate at pop’s, inviting Veronica, Kevin, Betty and I to the last drive in on Friday. Of course, they all agreed to go, and we all planned who we would drive with. I decided to walk with Jughead, and Kevin was taking Veronica. Betty was going to go with Archie.
“I’m going to go to the mayor again and see if I can convince her to keep the drive- in.” Jughead told me as we began to part ways that night. I grabbed his sleeve, pulling me back to him.
“Jughead, why is the Twilight drive-in so important to save?” I asked him, my voice soft and full of concern.
“It’s my job, y/n! I thought that might be an important thing to try and save!” Jughead’s words dripped with sarcasm as he yelled at me. He never usually got angry like this.
“Ok, I’ll see you at school tomorrow, good luck.” I spoke softly as I backed away slowly. I watched Jughead’s face go from angry to apologetic and walked away before he could say anything.
Jughead and I didn’t really speak much for the next few days. We still walked to class together, and he walked me home. He told me that the Mayor just wouldn’t listen to him or give his words any consideration, so I tried going to her myself the day after he did to change her mind.
“Hello, miss- “I opened the door to her office slowly, speaking with the politest tone I could manage.
“Miss y/l/n, I’m sorry, but the drive in is closing, and that’s final.” The mayor cut me off with a firm but somewhat polite tone.
“I’m sorry to bother you, this is just really important to Jughead. I just wanted to at least try and change your mind.”
“That’s quite alright, miss y/l/n.” The mayor smiled at me, staring at me for another moment before speaking again.
“Jughead is… special. He doesn’t have a lot of friends, certainly not any that would at least try to help him with something like this. I’m sorry I can’t save the drive in. I wish I could, for your sake and Jughead’s, but… “The mayor sighed, rubbing the side of her head with her thumb and forefinger.
“Thank you for your time.” I nodded, beginning to exit the Mayor’s office.
“Y/n?” I turned to the sound of the mayor’s voice. “Jughead is lucky to have a friend like you.”
“Thank you, Mayor.” I exited the office, my shoulders heavy.
The night of the drive-in, I rode to the lot with Kevin and Veronica, meeting up with Jughead. I found him by the snack counter and smiled as I watched him talk aimlessly with the boy in the booth.
“Hey, Jug.” I greeted my best friend and the boy he was talking to.
“Hey, y/n/n.” Jughead wrapped an arm around me, hugging me tightly. I wrapped my arms around his waist, my head leaning against his chest.
“How are you feeling?” I asked him, my voice muffled by his shirt. Jughead shrugged before looking down at me with a small smile on his face.
“Could be better, but you’re here, so I guess I’m not under a complete raincloud of doom.”
“Oh, so just a small one then?” I teased, grinning up at him.
“Yeah, it’s kinda just lingering somewhere behind me, ready to open up and strike me with a lightning bolt at any given moment.” I laughed at Jughead’s comment.
“Are you gonna come lay with us on the truck?” I asked him, a pleading look on my face. I grabbed his hand and began tugging him toward Kevin’s truck.
Jughead sucked in a breath before giving in. “Fine, Fine, I guess I’ll be angsty and depressed in the back of the truck instead of in the film room.” I jumped happily before intertwining Jughead’s hand with mine and pulling him towards the back of the truck. Veronica and Kevin sat curled up in blankets and scooted over so Jughead and I could sit next to them.
“Ah, it’s the official partners in crime, the tag team, the endgame, the- “
“I thought Archie and Betty were endgame?” I cut off Kevin before he could throw another couple reference at jughead and I.
“Yes, but that was before he got vocal with our music teacher.” Kevin grinned at his subtle pun and I rolled my eye.
“Ok, no Archie, no Ms. Grundy, no endgames, let’s just enjoy the drive in while we can, alright?” Veronica handed Jughead and I a blanket. I climbed in to Jughead’s lap and rested my back against his chest and he wrapped the blanket around us, his arms going around my waist under the cloth.
“Thank you,” Jughead whispered in my ear.
“For what?” I whispered back, grabbing the popcorn Veronica handed me.
“The mayor told me you stopped by to see her.” Jughead whispered to me. I turned around to face him and he was looking up at the big drive in screen, the lights reflecting off his face and casting shadows under his eyes and chin. He looked painstakingly beautiful. Jughead’s eyes flickered down to look at me and he smirked a bit before looking back up at the screen.
We stayed almost the whole night, watching movie after movie. The only time Jughead left was to go switch out the rolls as the credits came after the end of every showing. He would re-appear five minutes later, and I would lift the blanket as he hopped over the side of Kevin’s truck and resumed his prior position, his arms wrapped around me and his chin on my shoulder. At 4 in the morning, the credits to the last movie rolled, with only a few cars left on the lot. Veronica and Kevin were leaned against each other as they snored lightly, and my back rested against Jughead’s chest. I looked up at the mesmerizing boy. He had a hard look on his face and his jaw was clenched, his eyes glossy and shiny, the credits from the screen reflecting off his pupils.
“Jughead?” I spoke softly, my eyes on the raven-haired boy. He kept his gaze on the screen ahead of him. “Jughead, the construction people will be here soon, we have to go.”
“You guys go, I’m gonna hang around a little longer.” Jughead pulled away from me, climbing out of the truck and disappearing around the side of it. I turned to my friends, shaking them lightly to wake them up. Kevin woke first, carrying a still-sleeping Veronica around to the passenger seat and lying her in it. I grabbed my blanket and my backpack and swung it over my shoulder and waited at the driver’s side of the vehicle.
“Aren’t you and Jughead coming?” Kevin asked me, walking around to the front of the car where I stood.
“No, Jughead said he wanted to stay a bit longer, so I’ll wait with him.” I hugged my friend before he climbed in to the driver’s side.
“Hey, if you guys do it in the film room, I want details.” Kevin grinned devilishly before starting the car and driving away. I just shook my head, laughing at his comment. I made my way to the wall of the film room and leaned against it, folding my blanket. I pulled the bag off my shoulder, sticking the blanket inside.
 I waited for Jughead for another hour or so, playing on my phone mindlessly. I figured he was soaking up what he could of the film room before Mr. Andrews’ company teared it to shreds. The drive- in was his favorite place in town, besides the chock-lit shoppe.
I watched as the sky started to get lighter and I checked the time. 6:08 A.M. It wasn’t like I had never pulled an all-nighter before, and I wasn’t going to leave until I at least made sure Jughead was alright and home safe. I leaned back against the building, hearing birds chirping as the sun rose. Minutes later, I heard a voice from the other side of the building, and I turned my head, kicking off the wall with my heel and poking my head slightly around the corner. I saw the back of Jughead, and he was facing a man that looked familiar. Jughead had what looked like a camper bag hanging off his back, a poster sticking out of it.
“They’ll tear that booth down, too. Raise the whole place, send it to the junkyard.” The man in front of Jughead spoke, a smile playing on his lips.” And us with it.”
“Yeah, maybe they’ll save it. All the pieces. Store it in the town hall attic and rebuild it in a hundred years. Wonder who the hell we were.” I could almost picture the bittersweet smile on Jug’s face.
“Hmm.” The man smiled a bit more before his face became serious.
“So where are you gonna live now?” My heart stopped, a million emotions and realizations hitting me like a bus.
“I’ll figure it out dad, I always do.” I watched Jughead walked past him, walking towards the entrance of the drive in. I snuck around the other side of the building, making my way towards the entrance. I managed to beat Jughead to it and stood at the gate, my arms crossed as I waited for the boy I loved.
Jughead came around the corner, stopping in his tracks when he saw me. He had what looked like a busted look in his face as I stood there, a blank expression matching the hurt, worry, and concern for the boy.
“Y/n… what are you still doing here? I thought you-?” Jughead asked me, hoping I hadn’t caught on to what was going on.
“When exactly were you planning on telling me that you were homeless?” I cut him off, my tone of voice coming off as if I were a concerned mother. Jughead opened his mouth, trying to find the words to speak, but gave up, closing it instead.
Juggie? Really? I’m your best friend! We tell each other everything? Why would you keep this from me? More importantly, why aren’t you staying with your father? Is he homeless too? Did he kick you out? What is going on, Forsythe?! Tell me!” I paced back and forth as I rambled, before turning to look at Jughead. He looked down at the dirt underneath his shoes, His hand wrapped around the strap of his bag. I waited for an answer, my arms spread wide in front of me as I stared at him. Jughead said something that I couldn’t make out.
“What?” I spoke, encouraging him to repeat himself. Jughead lifted his head, the rims of his eyes a dark pink and tears falling down his face. My face dropped quickly, my heart clenching tightly as I looked at the broken boy in front of me.
“I said,” Jughead lifted his sleeve to wipe his running nose.” I don’t have a home.” His voice cracked slightly and more tears fell down Jughead’s face as he dropped the bag from his shoulder.
“Jughead.” I dropped my bag as well and quickly ran to the boy, trying to keep my tears from falling as I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Jughead wrapped his arms around my waist, burying his face in to my neck and quietly crying. We stood there for a few minutes, my one hand rubbing his back and my other pulling off his hat so I could run my fingers through his hair, doing everything I knew in my power that could soothe him.
“Jughead, Hey, Jug.” My hands cupped his cheeks, rubbing the tears away from his eyes while mine began to fall freely.” Listen to me, you are not homeless, ok? And you will never, ever, be homeless, as long as I am alive and breathing.” I stopped for a second to inhale quickly, my nose stuffed.” You are going to come with me to Pop’s, and I’m going to buy us breakfast, and then we are going to go back to my house, and you’re going to take a shower, because lord knows how long it’s been since you’ve had one,” Jughead chuckled lightly at my statement and I also let out a breathy laugh.” And then you’re going to crawl in to the guest bed, and you’re going to get some sleep, because it literally exhausts me every time I see those bags under your eyes. And you’re going to stay with me, ok?” Jughead nodded silently, knowing that this was a losing battle.
“And this never. Happens. Again. You got it? God, Jug, something terrible could have happened to you. We’ve got a murderer waltzing around town, do you know how easily you could have been killed?” I scolded, more tears falling down my face. I backed away from Jughead, going to grab my bag. “I don’t know how I can ever survive without you, ever! I would have dropped dead if anything ever happened to you! You’re the most important thing in this entire world to me! I don’t even know how- “Jughead grabbed my arm, turning me to face him before leaning down and planting his lips on mine. I stood still for a second, processing the shock of the gesture before wrapping my arms back around his neck and pulling his body closer to mine. Jughead wrapped his arms around my waist, his lips moving against mine. After a few moments, we pulled apart, my chest rising and falling as I caught my breath.
“Jughead, I- “Apparently, Jughead wasn’t done, because he pressed his lips to mine again, taking my breath away once more. We stood at the gate of the drive in for a little while longer, Jughead pushing me backwards until my back was against the fence and his body was pressed firmly against mine. We broke apart when we heard a man clear his throat.
“Uh, we’re gonna have to ask you to leave the premises.” The man spoke politely.” Construction begins soon.”
“Oh, sorry sir.” I apologized quickly, fixing my hair that Jughead had his fist tangled in moments ago, and grabbed my bag. Jughead did the same, grabbing my hand and leading me away from the drive in and down the street towards Pop’s. We stopped at my house so we could drop off our bags and began our trek to the 24-hour diner.
“Hey, Jughead.” I looked up at the boy as we walked hand in hand to the diner. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Jughead looked down at me, smiling warmly.
“No, Jughead, I- “
“I know, and I love you, too.” I stopped walking, causing Jughead to stop as well. Jughead looked down at me and I leaned up, pressing another kiss to his lips.
Jughead and I made it to the diner soon after, spotting Archie, Betty, Veronica, and Kevin at a booth. When they saw us, they invited us to sit and Archie and Kevin grabbed chairs from another table.
“So, did anything happen in the film room?” Kevin wiggled his eyebrows at me as Jughead and I slid in to the booth. I slapped his shoulder before glaring at him.
“Nah, nothing happened in the film room.” Jughead paused momentarily before speaking again.” It happened outside the film room.” Kevin’s mouth dropped open wide.
“You kinky fuckers!” Kevin hollered. The table laughed as I turned red in embarrassment. I felt Jughead’s hand grab mine under the table and I smiled, my fingers intertwining with his.
He would always have a home, and it would be with me.

10

every westallen scene ever (133/?)

I already made a post abt this but fogure another one wont hurt. im a disabled nb mestizo person living in an abusive house full of ppl who want me to move out. i cant drive due to my disability and have mental issues and chronic pains that make getting a job difficult, thought ive been looking but not getting calls back. My gf is also trans and living in a bad home and is being threatened with getting kicked out. She has a job but makes almost nothing and is also looking for a new job. We both really really need money and just. arent gettin it

my paypal is enbyclown@gmail.com and my cash me is cash.me/bloomington, and my gfs paypal is tj.schwartz@charter.net

i can do art for money and have commissions open rn

PLEASE rb and anything is helpful

💚Bloom

Okay but this is the only sixpenceee drama I’m gonna speak up about because she mentioned India, which is were I’m from.

CHILD SLAVERY ISNT FUCKING LEGAL HERE YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT, JUST BECAUSE YOUR FAMILY HAS ONE, DOESNT MEAN ITS LEGAL

like, this is such fucking bullshit because whilst it is true that we have working maids here in almost every house, they have to be above 18 or you’re doing something illegal. child labour is not allowed. if your family does it, then it’s your fucking fault, don’t drag my whole community down with your illegal bs. if you really cared about the girl working at your home, you would go to the fucking police. talk to your parents. send her to school.

YOURE THE ONE KEEPING HER AT YOUR HOME, ITS NOT HER CHOICE, ITS YOURS

fuck you

My "glitch" story

I recently came across a compilation by @sixpenceee recalling several occasions where people experienced a sort of “glitch” in their lives.

If I think about it, I’ve had several, but the one I’m going to talk about happened most recently.

If I had to say when this happened, it was about the last week or two of June, 2017. I was home alone, as I usually am during the weekdays, when my father had returned from work. We greeted each other at the door and talked a bit before heading into the kitchen. I have a large backyard where I let my dog run around freely when he needs to use the bathroom. Usually he’ll let us know he has to go by barking/standing at the back door when we enter the kitchen. However, I had just let my dog out minutes before my dad had walked in. When we walked into the kitchen, I noticed my dog standing at the back door looking into the house, which is his way of letting us know he’s ready to come back inside. During this, my dad headed to the bathroom and I walked to the refrigerator. As I opened the door, my dad exited the bathroom and walked back toward the kitchen hallway leading to the living room with my dog following closely behind him. When he did so, I heard what sounded like an extremely young boy behind me say “Are you alright?” In an almost playful, but distorted tone. It was distorted enough to where it almost didn’t sound human, but clear enough to where you could hear the words it spoke. After hearing this, my dad and I both turned toward each other and exchanged worried/confused glances. This was my indication that what I just heard wasn’t my imagination. We stood there for a moment just staring at each other before I pointed out that perhaps my older brother was home from work. He often brings his son to our house so I immediately thought it was him. My dad opened the door to his room and shouted for him but neither he, nor my nephew were home. We kind of laughed it off after that.

We’re both still unsure of where the voice originated from, but we both agree that evening we simultaneously heard a young boy ask “Are you alright?”

If anyone else is interested in my other “glitch” occurrences, I’d be glad to share.

wholesome domestic prompts
  • i brought you home flowers just for the hell of it, no it doesn’t matter that we’ve been together for three years and i’ve never done this before, they are pretty (and so are you i love you)
  • we, the blankets and the pet have tangled into an irreversible knot on the couch and if no one comes save us this might be our end 
  • we wanted to cook but now we are dramatically singing a duet with kitchen utensils in our hands, this is quality Performance™ 
  • i’ve had a horrible week and you just brought me home my favourite treat
  • no, when i said i wanted you to help clean the house i did NOT mean you should do it wearing only, exclusively stockings, you insolent FOOL
  • one of us has to get out of bed to make pancakes and it’s not going to be me ok just go and bring me nourishment
  • it’s been TEN YEARS and you STILL don’t know how to properly tidy up the dishes!!!! these plates go here, but these almost identical ones go there, is it that hard??!? what, no, they look nothing alike!
  • you can’t go to work because i need cuddles
  • i’m sick but no don’t worry about me, go to work, no really i can handle myself, love, it’s…. ok that sounds wonderful i’m giving up pls stay
  • we have guests over…do you really think it’s an appropriate time to affectionately grab my butt and kiss my neck… in front of the entire table….ok
  • ‘i know we both don’t believe in marriage but let’s get married for tax benefits’… ‘listen i know i said that but if you don’t even try to be romantic about proposing so help me god. try. again.’
  • it’s raining but we’re sitting sheltered on the veranda, cuddled side by side, reading our books, and if you ask me then the weather and the moment can stay like this forever
  • sometimes i just can’t stop kissing your stupid face
Princess of Hearts

Originally posted by lavendertitties

Pairing: Harry Hook x Reader

Word count: 2,221

A/N: this is my first descendants imagine, I hope you enjoy!!


No one dared enter the fish and chips shop after Uma returned from her failed attempt at getting revenge on Mal.  Only her and her crew went inside, hence causing business to be at an all-time low.  Not that it was usually busy, but Uma needed the money to satisfy her mother, and Harry’s petty theft was not enough to sustain them.

So when a girl in a torn up, bright red dress and white leather jacket walked into the shop, it took everyone by surprise.  All the pirates suspiciously eyed her as she entered.

It wasn’t a mystery who this girl was: (Y/N) Heart, the daughter of the Queen of Hearts, was notoriously different from her mother.  While the Queen of Hearts was tempestuous, loud, and violent, (Y/N) was a mysteriously quiet and patient girl.

“Well, well,” Harry was the first to approach her, wearing his iconic smirk. He leaned against the wall and brushed a strand of her hair out of her face with his hook. “What ‘cha doin’ here, princess?”

“Just getting some lunch, Hook,” she answered simply as she grabbed his hook, moving it away from her face.

Harry chuckled to himself as he stepped out of her way, mockingly bowing as she walked past him.  She sat down at an empty table.

Uma stormed up to Harry and grabbed his collar to whisper in his ear.

“I don’t trust her,” she muttered.

“She’s just getting some food, Uma,” Harry quietly countered her, keeping his eyes glued to (Y/N).  "There’s nothing to be suspicious of.“

“She used to be friendly with Mal,” Uma spat.  "I don’t care if she’s just here for the chips.  Keep an eye on her.“  She slammed a tray with fish and chips on it in Harry’s chest and pushed him towards (Y/N).  He approached her table and carelessly tossed the tray onto the table.  When she looked up at him, she watched as Harry turned around the chair across from her and sat down in it.

"The waiters don’t usually keep the customers company,” (Y/N) noted as she grabbed a chip.

Harry smirked.  "Do I look like a waiter to you, sweetheart?“

"You did bring me my food.”

“Touché.”

They sat in silence as (Y/N) ate her fish and chips with Harry occasionally stealing a chip.

When her meal was finished, (Y/N) nonchalantly tossed a random amount of cash on the table and stood up.  Harry immediately followed suit and shot up from his seat.

“Thanks for the food,” she sarcastically thanked with a tight smile, and she turned on her heel, exiting the shop.  Harry turned and glanced at Uma, who signaled for him to follow her.  He groaned as he went after her.

“You know, villains don’t normally use manners,” he said once he caught up with her.  He attempted to wrap his arm around her shoulder, which she immediately shrugged off.

“I’m not a villain,” she responded.  "My mother is.“

"But you’re her daughter,” Harry replied, furrowing his brows.  "Don’t you at least think you’re evil?“

"Evil?  No.” She shook her head.  "I’m unpleasant, sure, but not evil.  I’m not gonna try to fool myself like Mal did and try to convince myself that I’m evil.  I’ll do what I have to do to protect myself in this place, but that’s it.“

"Then I guess you’re on that list to get more VK’s into Auradon,” Harry snorted, rolling his eyes at the mere thought.  To his surprise, (Y/N) laughed.

“Oh god no,” she scoffed.  "Just because I’m not evil doesn’t mean I’m gonna go to the land of preppy princes and princesses.“

Harry found himself genuinely laughing at that.  Before he could utter a response, (Y/N) stopped in her tracks.

"Well, this is my place,” she announced, gesturing to the building covered in red paint.  "Thanks for walking me home.  It was very gentlemanly of you.“

She walked into her house before Harry could argue that he was definitely not a gentleman.  For a moment, he almost forgot that the only reason that he walked her home was because Uma wanted him to follow her.


The next morning, Harry found himself wandering in the general vicinity of (Y/N)’s house, waiting to "accidentally” bump into her.  His opportunity presented itself when (Y/N) stood by a fruit stand, examining the apples.

“What a coincidence,” Harry whispered into her ear as he approached her from behind, “finding you here.”

“Didn’t think this was your area, Hook,” (Y/N) quipped, not looking away from the fruit.  She didn’t bother to tell him off as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

“I’m just full of surprises, aren’t I?”

“You certainly are,” she agreed with sarcasm dripping from each word.  She filled her bag with apples, not paying attention to Harry, who had his chin resting on her shoulder and his arm wrapped around her waist.  She handed some cash to the lady behind the cart and began to walk home, Harry’s arm still resting in the same place.

“Why do you always pay for things?” he questioned.

(Y/N) shrugged.  "Because people need it,“ she answered.

"That’s not a very evil-”

“Unpleasant,” she corrected.

Harry rolled his eyes.  "Right, unpleasant.  That’s not a very unpleasant thing to do.“

"It’s not my life mission to be an unpleasant person, Hook.”

Harry stopped before (Y/N), this time, upon recognizing her house.  She lightly smirked as he unwrapped his arm from her waist.

“You know,” she leaned in to whisper in his ear, “it’s not a very unpleasant thing for you to always walk me home, too.”  She quickly kissed Harry’s cheek before dashing inside, leaving him standing outside as he fought the blush creeping into his cheeks.


Harry continued to follow (Y/N), as Uma ordered, throughout the rest of the week.  Although, for him, it felt less and less like following every day.

He was about to leave the fish and chip shop that day to begin “following” (Y/N), but before he could exit, Uma stopped him.

“Where are you going?” she inquired.

“To follow (Y/N),” he answered as if it was obvious.

“You’ve been following her for a week,” Uma said, “and you’ve found nothing suspicious.  I think it’s safe to say she’s not a threat.”

“I said that to you when she came in, but you still made me follow her,” Harry argued.

Uma rolled her eyes.  "Whatever, it’s not a concern anymore.  Go train instead, you’re gonna get out of shape if you keep spending all your time following this girl.“

Harry longingly stared at the exit for a moment before reluctantly nodding and heading towards the ship, grabbing a sword on his trek there.

He trained with Gil for a few hours before declaring that he needed a break.  When he turned around to leave the ship, he spotted (Y/N) standing by the bridge.  He smirked as he noticed her gaze scanning his shirtless figure.

"What brings you here, princess?” he asked, grabbing a towel.

She bit her lip and avoided eye contact with him.  "I-“ she stopped, choking on her own embarrassment.

"Yes?” Harry couldn’t help but allow the grin that was exponentially growing on his face.

“I came here because you weren’t by my house today,” she muttered, keeping her gaze focused on the ground.

“What was that?” he questioned as he inched closer to her.  He knew exactly what she said the first time.

“You weren’t by my house today,” she repeated a bit louder this time.

“But why did you come here?” Harry pressed, continuously moving closer to (Y/N) until her back was pressed against a wall.

“I told you-”

“But that wasn’t really why,” he interrupted her.  Her gaze was still focused on the floor, so he grabbed her chin and tilted her head up.  "Look at me, princess.“

"I like walking around with you, okay?” she finally burst.

Harry smirked.  "That’s all I needed to hear, princess.“  He began to lean in, still gripping her chin, and their lips were millimeters apart when they were interrupted.

"Harry!” Uma yelled, storming towards the ship.  Harry groaned as he moved away from (Y/N), resting an arm above her head.

“Sorry, love,” he quietly apologized before turning to Uma.  "Yes, Uma?“

"What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Taking a break from training.”

“With her?”  She angrily gestured towards (Y/N).  "I told you that you don’t have to follow her anymore!“

"Follow me?” (Y/N) echoed, stepping back from Harry.  "What does she mean, follow me?“

"Princess, I-”

“You only walked with me because Uma ordered you to keep an eye on me,” she didn’t allow Harry to explain.  "You never wanted to spend any time with me.“

"No, no, sweetheart,” Harry tried to cup her face, but she tore it away. “I-”

“All that flirting,” she spat, backing away from him.  "God, I’m so stupid, I actually thought that meant something.“

"It did, (Y/N)-” He grabbed her wrist in an attempt to prevent her from leaving.

“Congratulations, Harry Hook,” she scoffed, and Harry watched a single tear roll down her cheek.  "You are truly evil.“  She ripped her wrist out of his grasp and ran off.

He stood frozen in his spot, watching her figure fade.  When she was out of sight, he started to scream incoherently, punching the wall that he pinned (Y/N) to minutes ago.


"Come on, Harry, you haven’t trained with me for days!” Gil exclaimed after Harry rejected his offer to train for the seventh time.  "Uma’s gonna be mad if you get too far out of shape.“

"This is Uma’s fault,” Harry seethed.  "If she hadn’t ordered me to follow (Y/N), none of this would’ve happened.“

"Dude, get over her,” he waved the thought off.  "Sure, she was hot, but she was kinda lame.  I mean, she paid for her food.  Who does that?“

"Someone who’s not evil,” Harry muttered and stormed out of the shop.  He headed towards the fruit stand that he knew (Y/N) went to, the stand he went to every day since that incident at the ship, hoping that one day she’d be there.  Once he arrived and scanned the area, he learned that she, again, was not there.

“Damnit,” he mumbled under his breath.  He bided his time by perusing the selection of fruits.  By the time Harry felt like he had examined every piece of fruit at the cart, he was starting to give up hope.  He was about to leave when a voice caused him to perk up.

“Yeah, we ran out of apples this morning, so I’m just running a quick errand and grabbing them,” (Y/N) was explaining to the lady running the stand.  Hook’s eyes widened as he silently moved towards her.  

(Y/N) reached into her pocket to pay for the apples, but Harry, who stood directly behind her, beat her to it.

“Allow me, princess,” he said, handing some cash to the lady.  Both the lady and (Y/N) stared at him with confused expressions, shocked that the notorious thief Harry Hook actually paid for something.  “Come on, love, I want to talk,” Harry whispered in (Y/N)’s ear before dragging her off.

They wound up in a dark, quiet alleyway.  When Harry finally stopped walking, (Y/N) found a chance to rip her arm out of his grip. She began to run away, but Harry caught her wrist.

“Just give me a minute to explain, please,” he begged her.  Taken aback by his usage of manner, she silently obliged and stopped trying to escape.  “I messed up.”

“Yeah you did.”  It was the first time she had actually spoken to him.

“I know, I know, and I’m a total idiot,” he agreed with her, “and I’m sorry.  When you walked in the shop that first day, Uma was suspicious of you. I told her that there was nothing going on, but she insisted that I follow you.  I didn’t want to, I swear, but I had to.  And every day that I spent with you, it felt less and less like following and more and more like… like-”

“Like what?” (Y/N) questioned, subconsciously inching closer to Harry.

“It felt like we were just spending time together, you know?  Actually enjoying it.”

“That still doesn’t justify you leading me on like that just as an attempt to get information,” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“Get information?”  He stared at her quizzically.  “I didn’t flirt with you to get information.”

“Then what was it?  Am I just a game to you?  Harry Hook, the infamous flirt on the Isle, just had to have a crack at me to see if he could do it. Well congrats, you did it.  Now you can move on and go pursue some other-”

Before she could finish her ramble, Harry frustratedly grabbed her face and smashed his lips against hers.  He slowly moved forward, backing (Y/N) into the wall.

“What,” she tore away from Harry, breathing heavily, “was that?”

“You never seem to let me speak, do you, princess?”  Harry grinned before pressing his lips on (Y/N)’s once again, this time allowing her to reciprocate faster.  She knocked his hat off his head and tangled her fingers in his hair.

“I’m still mad at you,” she reminded him after she pulled away, fighting a smile.  

Harry grinned.  “No you’re not.”

Person A had noticed that Person B had been acting odd all day and decided to confront them about whatever their problem was, because damn it, it was their job.

It wasn’t until A was driving B home later that day that they finally asked what was going on with B.

B instantly clamed up, and it wasn’t until they were almost to B’s house did they finally confess.

“…A, I’m sorry that I’ve been keeping this from you for so long. Your my best friend and I trust you so much but I have to tell you…I’m gay…”

Person A waited until they turned off their car in the driveway before turning to B and responding,

By full on making out with B.

“Babe, we’ve been married for the past three years.” And walking out of the car.

EXTRA: Person A smirked at the thought of B’s befuddled face left in their car.

PROMPT LIST #3

1. “For gods sake, guys! We’re NOT dating”
2. “You’re still the same guy I fell in love with”
3. “Gotcha!”
4. “Why would you prank me with something like that?!”
5. “There’s no way in hell i’m doing that”
6. “I literally don’t know how someone can be that stupid”
7. “Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies”
8. “What are you doing to me?”
9. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m really turned on by that”
10. “Give me my phone back!”
11. “YOU knew how important this was for me!”
12. “Oh shut the fuck up”
13. “You’re the one that labeled this as ‘just fun’ so I don’t own you shit”
14. “Don’t play with me, because you’re gonna lose”
15. “Forget it, you’re not even worth it”
16. “Say that one more time and you’re done”
17. “I’m no one’s property”
18. “I have a child?”
19. “I’m done with this bullshit”
20. “Why? Why did you leave?”
21. “How could you hide something like that from me!”
22. “I panicked, okay?!’
23. “I can’t believe I’m sitting in a mall jail with you of all people”
24. “Now you wanna talk? Well fuck you”
25. “How did this happened?”
26. “Just one drink”
27. “Hello? We’re in the middle of something”
28. “Oh how cute! You actually think I give a fuck”
29. “Mess with me and you’ll regret being born”
30. “I don’t fuck around”
31. “Let’s see if you can keep up”
32. “This means nothing”
33. “There’s the door. Feel free to get the fuck out”
34. “Put that down”
35. “Don’t do it, please”
36. “I’m not the same, I’m different”
37. “Nobody cares about me anymore, so why should I keep trying?”
38. “Listen to me, okay? We’re getting out of here, together”
39. “This is so stupid”
40. And yet, you’re still here”
41. “You think this is a joke? This is my life!”
42. “So this was all a lie?”
43. “We have nothing to talk about”
44. “Are you going to tell him?”
45. “Is better off this way”
46. “Hold up, you what?”
47. “You’re the worst roommate”
48. “Why are you fucking a stranger in my bed?!”
49. “Please go get herpes as far as you can from this house”
50. “Be my guest”
51. “I can do whatever I want, we’re not dating, remember?”
52. “You wanna get food at 2 am?”
53. “I will always protect you”
54. “You moved on, so did I”
55. “You’re not the same”
56. “Yeah, well, people change”
57. “You had no right to do that!”
58. “Why do you always convince me of doing the stupidest shit”
59. “How is it that your so stupid and so hot at the same time?”
60. “Call 911”
61. “This is the last time I’m letting you in my house”
62. “It was an accident!”
63. “You almost burn my house down!”
64. “I can’t keep doing this”
65. “Just be honest with me!”
66. I’m not gonna be here when she breaks your heart"
67. “Just one more night”
68. “Is this how it all ends?”
69. “You’re here!”
70. “I wanna go home”
71. “I’m not letting you go and we both know that you don’t want me to either”
72. “Keep talking all you want but you can’t deny that you want me as much as I want you”
73. “You broke my nose!”
74. “As if you were a fucking angel”
75. “Don’t make me laugh”
76. “Yeah… I don’t do relationships”
77. “Let’s face it! I’m just one of your many booty calls!”
78. “You’re nothing like them
79. “Did I actually mean something to you, ever?”
80. “I’m starting to think I’m actually going to hell”

By Way of Spontaneity (Part 5)

Summary: On a whim, Bucky declares you to be his girlfriend to his grandma and mother. They’re eager to meet you and he asks you to pretend to be with him for just one dinner with his family. But is that really all?

Word Count: 773

Warnings: None.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

A/N: This is where I start to apologize for what’s coming. >.<

Originally posted by yourlipbalm


Mildred looked up at you as you all settled down in the living room, cups of coffee being handed to everyone. She gave you a smile. “Dear, my birthday is next week. Apparently, my family is holding a surprise birthday party during that weekend, Sunday. Would you like to attend?”

“Nana!” screeched Steve and Bucky simultaneously.

She laughed, waving them away. “You people are hardly secretive! I have known for a while.” She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “They’re throwing me this big party like they’re expecting me to die soon. Pah! Not happening.”

Keep reading

Mixed Black African Girl (Cameroonian/French)

I’m a mixed black african girl who grew up and lived most of her life in Cameroon, in Central Africa. My dad is half-white (french) and half-black (cameroonian), and my mom is 100% cameroonian. There’s little to no black african characters in popular fiction, which has always bothered me, and it would be so nice to read about someone like me for once.

  • Culture and food

Cameroon is a country created during colonization, with borders defined by europeans. Because of that, Cameroon is actually made of 200 ethnic groups, each of them having their own language and culture. So the culture and daily habits vary a lot depending on which region of Cameroon you are in. In the big cities, though, everyone is mingled no matter where they’re from. However, so many different ethnic groups cohabiting together often causes tension. There are also a lot of stereotypes about every ethnic group.

I grew up in the central and coastal areas of the country, and I’m Bassa. The Bassa are one of the main ethnic groups in Cameroon. If your parents are from two different ethnic groups, it is decided that you officially belong to your father’s ethnic group. My mother is Bakoko but my father is Bassa, so I’m the latter. When I meet another Cameroonian, two of the first questions we usually ask each other are : What are you (meaning, what’s your ethnic group) ? and Where is you village ?

Villages are very important in the Cameroonian culture. Your village is where your father’s ancestors were born. Even if you’re not born there, you usually have grandparents or great-uncles or family friends living there, and if you have enough money to do so you must regularly visit your village. And usually, when people earn enough money, they send money to their village so that people living there can have a better life, build more houses and schools etc.

Cameroonian food is very diverse, and varies depending on the region. The national dish is Ndolé, a dish made with ndolé leaves, stewed nuts, and meat (fish, beef or shrimps). Other common foods are bobolo and miondo (food made out of fermented manioc), soya (spicy grilled meat on skewers), and plantain. My dad is half-french though, so at home we eat almost as much french food as cameroonian food (crème brûlée, shepherd’s pie, beef bourguignon, A LOT of bread and cheese).

  • Language

There are hundreds of different languages, but the official languages are French and English. Cameroon was colonized by France and England so Northern Cameroon mainly speaks english and central/southern Cameroon mainly speaks french. Most people also speak their ethnic group’s language. I don’t know how to speak Bassa, though, because neither do my parents. When me and my siblings were kids, our dad asked our baby-sitter to teach us, but she could only do so much and I only remember a few words.

  • Beauty Standards

Like most countries, there is a lot of colorism in Cameroon based on European beauty standards. When you’re a woman, the lighter you are, the prettier and more desirable you are considered. Dark skinned women are often mocked and considered not as pretty. A lot of people, mainly women but also men, use dangerous products to lighten their skin. Internalized racism and white beauty standards are very insidious, and a lot of people want to look like white people, including me when I was younger. As a kid I remember wishing i was a pretty blonde-haired blue-eyed white girl like the heroines of the books i was reading. Growing up I stopped wishing that, but I relaxed and straightened my hair a lot, wanting to have long straight hair without realizing that it was still an attempt to look like the ideal version of a white girl. I’m sure that if I had more black female characters to relate to when I was growing up, I wouldn’t have spend so many years hating myself without even realizing I was doing it.

Also, Cameroonians usually consider thick, curvy women to be the ideal beauty standard. But being thin is still an ideal broadcast by the media (especially that american and european media are heavily broadcast and consumed in Cameroon) so most women still diet a lot and go to the gym to lose weight.

  • Clothing

Women wear a lot of skirts and dresses, be it casual or for work. Most cameroonian schools have uniforms and mandatory hairstyles (either cornrows or short shaved hair).

Elderly people often wear more traditional clothes and outfits. The most prominent traditional item of clothing is the Kaba. The Kaba is a long dress made of wax fabric and other materials and is owned by pretty much every woman. The dress looks different depending on the situation : the Kaba you wear when you stay at home is usually very long and very loose, the Kaba you wear during official/formal events is more tight-fitting and stylized, etc.

  • Dating and Relationships

I’ve never dated anyone, but when I was in high school none of my friends ever told their parents they were seeing someone. Having your parents know about and meet the person you’re dating after only a few weeks or months is something that just doesn’t happen (unless someone gets pregnant). It’s when things get serious that you introduce them to your family. Also, a lot of parents would prefer their children to marry someone from the same ethnic group.

Homosexuality is still illegal there, and you can go to jail for being gay.

  • Home/Family life

My parents are still happily married, and I have 3 siblings. My parents are both close to their siblings, and I’m close to mine. Me and my siblings grew up with our cousins, we were always at each other’s houses. I pretty much consider most of my cousins as extra siblings. We have a very big extended family and every day I discover new distant cousins, aunts, great-uncles etc. My dad being half-french, when I was growing up we sometimes went to France during summer to visit his relatives living there.

In Cameroon, most people who have enough money to do so send their children to study abroad once they’ve graduated high school. I’m currently living in France for my studies, and most of my high school friends are also going to college in France, England, Canada, Brussels, South Africa etc.

  • Identity issues

Despite being only ¼ white, I’m very light-skinned. My siblings being much darker skinned, when I was a kid I thought I was adopted (i’m not, it’s just genetics). Cameroon being a black country, when someone is visibly mixed and light-skinned as i am, most people just label them “white”. A lot of people would refer to me as “the white” and it always really hurt me. My family wouldn’t understand why i was so angry and hurt, they’d say “they don’t mean anything by it, it’s just that you’re light” but the fact is it made me feel like i don’t belong. I’m cameroonian, i’ve lived in Cameroon almost my entire life, i’m black, and still some people see me as “other”, they see me as white. And so for a long time, I didn’t dare to call myself black, I’d say “I’m biracial” or “I’m mixed” instead because I somehow felt like a fraud. But I’m black and not white-passing at all, and I still experience racism abroad (but I’m aware I have a lot more privilege than dark skinned people).

  • Daily struggles

So I’m currently living in France. On one hand, sometimes white people are racist toward me, or just totally obnoxious and ignorant, trying to touch my natural hair and thinking that people in Cameroon don’t have computers or whatever. On the other hand, when I randomly meet other cameroonians and we start talking, they always assume that because i’m mixed i’ve lived my entire life in France and i don’t know anything about Cameroon. And there’s nothing wrong with being a child of immigrants and not knowing the country your parents or grandparents came from, but i know that if i wasn’t visibly mixed they wouldn’t question the fact that i know Cameroon and lived there my entire life.

  • Misconceptions

Because of how the media depict African countries, a lot of people think that everyone in Africa is extremely poor and starving, that we don’t have electricity and internet and that everyone lives in huts. Which is so false. We have rich people and poor people, we have huge modern cities and regular cities and small villages with huts, almost everyone has access to a tv and internet, etc.

  • Things I’d like to see less of

Cameroon and other african countries being depicted as poor unfortunate countries where everyone is starving and illiterate and waiting for the generous white people to save us. What we need is for people to see us as the humans we are, and to allow us to grow in peace.

  • Things I’d like to see more of

Black african characters being written as the complex human beings we are. Shy black african characters. Nerdy and hella smart black african characters. Mixed black african characters who struggle with their identity. LGBTQ black african characters.

  • Tropes/Stereotypes I’m tired of seeing.

The “savage”, “uncivilized” african. African characters who are aggressive, dumb and shout all the time. The poor africans in need of saving by white people.

Read more POC Profiles here or submit your own.

i saw a similar post about writing tips when it comes to having paris as a setting, so i thought it would be helpful to have the same thing except for……new york city! as a native new yorker i love seeing my home appearing in fics, because lbr nyc is pretty awesome. so if you’re looking to make nyc your setting, here are some tips when writing about it. these can help establish if your character is a native or non-native.

—first off, nyc is technically not one city. it’s five cities. the boroughs of manhattan, queens, staten island, bronx, and brooklyn are all part of nyc. however, the nyc that’s always on tv/movies is manhattan.

—if you live in any of the four other boroughs, manhattan is always referred to as “the city”. so if your character lives in brooklyn but is heading out to central park, they’re going to the city.

—public transportation is the way to go. unless it’s staten island, where cars are the easiest way to go. mta fare is $2.75 and we use metrocards. trains are divided by uptown and downtown, and some are express and some are local. we do not refer to the train lines by their color—only by their number or letter. buses are designated by their borough; a manhattan bus would have M in front of the number.

—taxis are mad expensive and sometimes public transportation can be too when you need to take a combo of buses and trains. many new yorkers walk a lot. the reason we walk fast is bc it makes it easier to get to your destination. walking up ten blocks can only take ten minutes if you speedwalk basically. which is why slow walkers annoy us, especially when they stop suddenly.

—trains run slower during weekends and nights so your character might be in for quite a wait. bus generally take 10 minutes to come, unless it’s a popular route. then buses come every five minutes.

—except for the very southern part of manhattan, the roads are numbered. so areas such as greenwich village, wall street, little italy, and chinatown do not have streets with numbers. streets run from east to west; avenues run from south to north. the east & west streets are separated by 5th Avenue. numbers increase as you move north and/or to the west.

—you can always find pizza and hot dogs for a dollar. busy areas such as times square and central park will try to overcharge you. no new yorker would be gullible enough to pay $2 for a pizza slice. for cheap $1 pizza, the chain 2Bros is good. speaking of pizza, we fold it in half bc it is easier to eat and walk then.

—a distinctly new yorker thing is saying “on the line”. such as asking someone “are you on the line?” no other state says this. drive into new jersey and they’ll say “in the line”.

—there is one international airport and one domestic airport for nyc, which are both in queens. there’s JFK (international) and La Guardia (domestic). a third option is newark airport (also international) in new jersey.

—smoking is not allowed in nyc parks nor in most public spaces whatsoever. also the legal age for smoking and drinking is 21.

—if your character is a college student, all public colleges are branded as CUNY (City University of New York). every borough has at least one CUNY college. public colleges have “cheap” tuition rates, which are usually around $5000-$8000. the “famous” colleges in NYC are not public. NYU and Columbia are both private and are ridiculously expensive. Wagner College (private) in Staten Island has a really good performing arts/music program.

—new yorkers avoid many of the sightseeing places bc they’re expensive and overcrowded. i have lived my whole life in nyc (almost 20 years) and have only visited the Empire State Building for the first time this summer—and that’s only bc my internship covers the expense of my tickets to such places.

—speaking of expenses, most of the homes in the boroughs are apartments. Staten Island however is suburban and residential. houses are abundant there. in manhattan, houses which are really just townhouses, are super expensive. we’re talking millions here.

—manhattan is an island. so is staten island. the only ways off manhattan are by cars/buses over bridges or tunnels, or by trains. the only way off staten island is by car, bus, or the Staten Island Ferry. the ferry is free of charge, running 24/7 between SI and Manhattan. all bridges have tolls, where ezpass holders have lower rates.

—yes we’re the city that never sleeps, but we do sleep. some areas like times square don’t appear to. i’ve shopped at the forever 21 in times square at 1 AM. it was still crowded.

—SI has a predominant Italian and Sri Lankan community. Queens has a predominant Indian community, most especially in the Jackson Heights neighborhood.

—coney island is in brooklyn. the rides are fun but expensive. the beach is crowded and dirty. brighton beach and rockaway beach are better choices. staten island has a more calmer (and actually fourth longest in the usa) boardwalk.

—if you’re mailing something to manhattan, the address should be written as new york, new york. it would not be manhattan, new york.

this got really long but if your heart is set on writing within new york, i think it’s really important to get your setting right. like i said before, these tips can really help your character stand out or not as someone who is or isn’t from new york. i hope this helps for all the fabulous writers out there!

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

anonymous asked:

Also....I have one more. What about assassin andrew being sent to kill neil but falls in love instead au ❤❤❤

Mostly, Andrew Minyard slits his marks’ throats. One clean slice on the side, a severed carotid artery, blood flow to the brain cut off. A quick death. Not out of mercy, but out of necessity—cutting major veins is too messy, and severing a windpipe is too slow.

So Andrew Minyard goes for the carotid arteries. Mostly.

Neil turns to the next page in the folder. Some of Minyard’s earlier victims were strangled to death. A few have been shot, though likely as a last resort—police reports mention signs of a struggle, bullets in the back of the head like they were trying to get away.

Well, “victims” is a subjective term. Implies faultlessness. Innocence. Andrew Minyard’s victims are never faultless or innocent. Before the Moriyamas hired him, Andrew Minyard operated like a vicious Robin Hood, or a Batman-for-pay, taking relatively small fees to rid real victims of their abusers.

And now he’s after Neil.

Keep reading

I was thinking about it earlier and, yes, latine cultures are unique, diverse and all that. Heck, I live in Brazil, and I can guarantee you, each state has it’s own culture, customs, traditions, folklore and all that. We can’t even agree as a nation what’s the word for cookie!

(é biscoito)

So like, of course you can’t expect every country to have the same culture and dishes and music and all that, when not even a single country have that. 

But, by following other latines, and talking to people from the neighbor countries over my life, I learned that there are a few things that can be considered Universal Latine Experiences. Among them

🌺 The thing with rice and beans. Like, no country will ever have them the same way, of course. But it’s… Overall, so present. Some will lean more to the rice, some to the beans, but it’s there, wherever you go

🌺 Seeing posts from gringos on your dash complaining about winter where it’s summer where you live, and it’s so bad, your flip flops actually started melting when you went out to buy something cold to drink

(alternatively, seeing posts from gringos on your dash complaining about summer and giving out tips on how to control the heat when you are freezing on your couch and wrapped in three blankets)

🌺  The overall feeling of companionship? Like, I won’t like, I know it’s not perfect. There is a huge problem with xenophobia (I would say Brazil is the worst on this matter, but then again, it’s easier for me to see it here since I live here), and there is some bloody history between some countries. But the companionship is still there, you know?? We call each other hermanos, we receive each other in out country with open arms, we share our culture… I don’t know, there is some beauty to it. Or maybe this is all in my head because I’m feeling specially gushy today

🌺 Going to your grandmother’s house almost every sunday for lunch. Greeting your uncles and aunties, and asking blessings from your grandparents (even when you aren’t catholic anymore, but at this point, it is more a sign of respect and affection rather then religion) before going to play with your cousins in the backyard, while your parents play cards with their siblings or help your grandmother with the kitchen. 

When you notice it, it’s already midnight, and they are still playing cards. Come on, pai, we need to go home, I have class tomorrow. Just one more round, flor. But your said that three rounds ago!  

🌺 Having your natives being wiped out to near extinction my foreigner invasors, if not complete, and then having your fauna and flora destroyed, being forcefully brought to a distant land as slaves, and then when you finally say enough for both the invasors and slavery and call your land as yours, usa comes and fund a dictatorship in your country to which your people is still trying to recover from 

🌺  Little statues of saints and the Virgem Maria and portraits of Jesus and crosses and candles all over your elder’s house. Old houses with old paint on the walls, an old radio playing music in the kitchen, a road of battered down bricks and dirt, and your great grandmother is there, smoking a cigarillo de paja on the steps that lead to her house, keeping an eye on you as you play with your cousins and the neighbor kids you met that day, but it already feels like an eternity

🌺 El Chavo Del Ocho

🌺  Reclaiming your own culture after years of cultural imperialism saying that it’s not a good culture. Falling in love again with something that you were coerced to fall out of love with as you grew up. Learning again how to love the local legends, when you were thought that they were no good, and that the ones from europe and usa are betters. Learning again how to love your traditional music, dances, culture when you were thought that those were no good, that the ones from europe and usa are better. Learning your history in dept, seeing how complex and rich it is, after years hearing that it’s boring, not as interesting as those from usa and europe. Just… Falling in love with your roots again, and getting excited every time you see something from your country making success out there, and then also getting excited when something from you neighbors make success out there and yes! We deserve this! We deserve to have our history told and shared and appreciated too!

🌺  These assholes, somehow