slightly awful

fantasy book with witches and wizards and magical people but all magic has a price, like

main character, in awe and slightly terrified: what did you have to give up to be able to control storms with your mind?

powerful enchanter, fighting back tears as they pull down the hood of their cloak to reveal a knotted oily mess: my beautiful luscious hair….no matter how many times i wash or brush it, it always looks like this

main character: [horrified gasp]

Imagine - Zach gets jealous

Originally posted by sensualkisses

@ambrosebabyy Request: “Can I get a Zach Dempsey imagine ? Were he sees Bryce all over me and gets really protective?”

@thrtreasons Request: “jealous!zach…. i just… oh my god sorry i am sooooo zach trash”

@hanna-ranay Request: “Honestly an imagine about Zach would truly be appreciated, if you can. If not, it’s okay. Thank you!”

Jessica Davis was having a party at her house tonight, and of course you, being her best friend, had to go. You, Jessica, Justin, Zach, Bryce, Monty, and several other students from Liberty high were sitting in the living room playing suck and blow. You were sandwiched between Bryce Walker and Zach Dempsey.

You would never admit it to anyone, but you had a huge crush on Zach. And you’re pretty sure Jessica knew, she is your best friend after all, how could she not. But you were too shy to act upon your feelings towards him and you believed that he would never want to be with someone like you. Even though you hung out with Jessica and the more popular kids at Liberty high, you were still known as quite the nerd. And someone like Zach Dempsey don’t go for nerdy girls like you, they go for skinny cheerleaders who are drop dead gorgeous. 

Anyways, the game of suck and blow had already started, and you were pretty nervous to say at the least. Because you had to put your mouth against Zach’s with only a thin card in between the two of your lips. It was getting closer and closer to your turn until some girl pressed her mouth against Bryce’s passing the card on to him. He turned towards you, card on his lips. Bryce scooted closer to you quickly, sandwiching you more between him and Zach, until the point where you were chest to chest with Bryce and your back was pressed firmly against Zach’s muscular chest. Bryce then proceeded to place his card covered lips against yours, and quickly, in the process of passing the card onto you, snuck his hand around you to grab a hold of your backside and give it a good squeeze. His actions shocked you and you jumped, emitting a little squeal which was muffled by the card between yours and Bryce’s lips. Still in shock from what is happening right now, you faintly hear a deep growl from behind you…

Keep reading

I just had the most random thought that I now really want to happen.

let me set the scene. the squad is at school, as usual, and marinette, for some reason, has alya’s phone. (wouldn’t put it past her to take someone’s phone considering her track record ayy lmao) she’s taking selfies on it, some super cute but most just pulling incredibly dumb faces. 

then, on the cusp of one hella gorgeous photo where she looks like an actual angel, sunshine boy™ adrien agreste comes over from behind with a friendly and slightly awed* “hey marinette!”
(*he’s a one woman man, of course, but dang. she looked real cute in that almost selfie. can ya really blame him?)

she sees him in the phone screen and she’s shook. her expression transforms into one of pure unadulterated joy and somewhere in the seconds that pass instantaneously and yet feel like hours, she captures a photo right then. he’s in the background, looking incredible as always, and her eyes have just shifted toward him, and her expression is lovestruck. like, undeniably so. but something happens in the moment that prevents her from even noticing or looking back on the photo, and she gives alya her phone back later without having even seen said glorious selfie.

then alya. oh, alya. being the wonderful friend and impeccable wingman she is, she spams the squad group chat (bc don’t even try to tell me they don’t have one) with several of marinette’s selfies, pretending to be mad about mari taking her phone. but they’re all stunning photos, of course. and (, of course, ) the one is included. adrien sees the photo and.. oh dang. has this always been a thing? has this always been her beautiful reaction to simply seeing him? is there a reason she’s so happy? and how has he literally never noticed such elation on her face before?

he messages nino immediately. ‘dude. this photo. marinette looks really happy to see me?? I mean, it looks like she does anyway- maybe I’m reading into it. does this mean anything? is she normally this excited to see her friends?’

nino’s reply is instantaneous.

‘dude. DUDE.’

'what?’ 

'are you actually that blind? pay attention to her expressions and mannerisms the next time u see her. hopefully you’ll understand. we’ll see.’

he follows nino’s instruction and after surprisingly very little time at all, it hits him like a ton of bricks.

she does not, in fact, act this way around all her friends.

that spark of light in her eyes, that elated smile; those are marinette specials reserved for very few things. raspberry macarons, fashion, and apparently:
himself.

“plagg, I think.. I think marinette dupain-cheng likes me.”

okay but, picture this. it’s isak’s birthday, that even organized, that even made sure would be perfect for him. and isak is a little tipsy on beer and a little tired from laughing so much with his boyfriend and his friends, and it truly is his favorite birthday, ever 

and he walks up to even, big closed-mouth smile on his face, and he lets his forehead gently bump against even’s, lets it rest there, and he sighs contentedly. and he tells even, half mumbling and slightly in awe “you’re too good for me”. and even sort of frowns at the words and he places a kiss on his lips and says “no way, you’re too good for me” 

and isak’s smile doesn’t seem to fade and his eyes are only half-open, and his voice is sleepy but mostly loving when he whispers “hmmm, maybe we’re just perfect for each other” and even feels the most gentle warmth spread through him, and he remembers what chris told him earlier, how he was told that he made this boy happy. and it’s true, he realizes, because isak looks so, so happy. peaceful, genuine, long-lasting happiness 

and even smiles and wraps his arms around isak, lets him rest his head against his shoulder, lets him close his eyes for a bit while he holds him. and he thinks to himself that maybe that’s exactly what they are, after all. not too good for the other, simply perfect for each other 

dare :: zach dempsey

word count: 1635

warnings: lil bit of bryce the predator but mostly fluff and :)

a/n: this is my first time writing an imagine for Zach / 13 reasons why so !!!! I love ross butler !!!!!!!!!!!


“Y/N, come and join us!” You glanced over your shoulder, spotting the gang crowed into a circle in the sitting room but more specifically, you spotted Bryce who was waving you over.

You rolled your eyes, smiling slightly as you told Clay you’d be back after a round of whatever they were playing. He nodded, turning to Hannah to continue their conversation and you left to join the rest of your friends.

You ignored Bryce who was insisting you sit beside him but you had very little trust in that boy, so instead you sat in the empty space beside Zach.

But Bryce was a persistent little guy, unused to the dismissal of his efforts from a girl and so he shooed the guy on your other side and seated himself next to you.

You rolled your eyes, relaxing your head back against the sofa to which Zach released a bout of laughter. You smiled, resting your head against Zach’s shoulder as you watched your friends decide on a game.

Keep reading

Touch Starved

Cas doesn’t know when he started to crave human contact.  He supposes it’s a side effect of inhabiting his vessel for so long, but it’s inconvenient to say the least.  

He remembers hugging Dean when he came back from the dead, wrapping himself around his warm body without a second thought. How easy things had been then, when all of his thoughts were occupied with Dean being alive and what a miracle that was.  He didn’t have to worry about overstepping his bounds, doing something he’d regret.

He remembers Dean cupping his face, stroking it even, holding his hand after a near-fatal (or fatal) injury as he looked into his eyes, making sure he was alright.  

Even then, in the context of whatever brush with death he was recovering from, Cas couldn’t think about anything but melting into Dean’s hands, staying that way forever and ever. But of course, he couldn’t.  That would be inappropriate, a man touching a male vessel for such a sustained period of time, and if Dean touched him for too long he might give into temptation. Overstep his bounds.  Do something he’d regret.

Cas lives a sleepless life, but as he wanders the bunker at night he can’t help but envision what it would be like to lay down in bed next to Dean, to hold him in his arms or have him hold Cas, to feel his warm breath and the thud of his heartbeat. 

 Dean had been so warm when he touched Cas.  So gentle, and so very human.

He tells himself it’s only fantasy, so it doesn’t count.  Just as long as he never let’s it show, what he truly wants, and how badly he wants it:  he craves contact, Dean’s contact, his affection, his warmth.  He wants to know Dean loves him back, for him to show it with his actions if not with his words.  

But he doesn’t dare say it.  He just dreams.

Over a year ticks by like this, when Dean comes home from a hunt, badly injured.  He has a blood-red welt on his forehead, and a deep scratch through the fabric of his shirt. 

 Cas, ever concerned, steps forward.  “Here,” he offers, holding out his hand.  “Let me.”

Dean gives the obligatory, feeble protest, but doesn’t move away as Cas presses his hand to his shoulder, where his handprint had been all those years ago.  

The injuries slowly fade from Dean’s body, and Cas, satisfied that his patient is now well, begins to retract his hand.

It’s barely perceptible, the way Dean leans towards the contact, following it.  Chasing it.  

Cas notices anyway, and his brow furrows.  He’s been told he lacks empathy, but Cas recognizes the gesture, the longing that was behind it.  It just doesn’t seem possible that Dean could crave what Cas does.

Still, tentatively, experimentally, places his hand back on Dean’s shoulder.  

“What’re you doin’?”  Dean inquires, voice a tired grumble.  “I’m all healed up.  I’m fine now.”

Still, he doesn’t move away.

“I am…checking for further injuries,” he informs him, and immediately feels guilty for lying.  Still, he needs to know if Dean wants this too, whether even some small part of him might crave this.  He allows his hands to move gently over Dean’s shoulders, tentatively as though he might break.

Dean makes a soft grunt that tells Cas he doesn’t quite believe his alibi, but still, he doesn’t move away. He leans closer, into Castiel’s touch.

Cas continues, in somewhat awed silence, his hands stroking down Dean’s broad shoulders, down his muscular back, radiating warmth beneath his thick flannel shirt.  Cas wishes he wasn’t wearing it, and not even for sexual reasons:  he just wants to feel Dean’s skin beneath his own, wants the intimacy of being together without the restrictions of clothes.

He allows his fingertips to brush, feather-light, over the bare skin of Dean’s neck, still damp with sweat from the exertion of their hunt.  Dean doesn’t tense, or do anything, really:  he just sits there, perfectly still.  Cas can’t read his facial expression, but he somehow feels he’s doing something forbidden.  

At that moment, Sam walks in, saying something innocuous about the hunt and not noticing whatever it is they’re doing.  

Dean stands up abruptly, practically knocking over a chair as he does so.  Cas watches him curiously as he awkwardly greets him, clearly somewhat embarrassed, despite the fact Sam wasn’t aware of the exchange that had just transpired.  

Sam looks suspiciously from Dean, then to Cas, then goes about his business like he doesn’t want to know.

It isn’t until months later that Cas finally gets what he wants, though he’s not coherent enough to fully appreciate it.  

He’s been stabbed through the gut with an angel blade, grace seriously depleted and nearly delirious.  

It’s an unfortunately close re-enactment of the last time Cas was taken from them, and Dean knows it as he lugs Cas into bunker, draped over his shoulder like a rag doll.  

He’s barely conscious as Dean lays him on the sofa, pealing back his blood-soaked shirt to reveal the wound, the blue light of his Grace illuminating from within.  

He yells something at Sam, who minutely brings them a bowl of hot water and a cloth, which Dean then uses to clean it.  If Cas were more coherent, he’d tell Dean that was useless, that he would be healed by his grace or not at all;  mending a vessel when his true form was damaged was like trying to repair a flesh wound by patching up clothing.

But Dean is touching him gently, cleaning his wound and muttering to him soft, soothing nothings that he can’t quite make out.

He’s looking at him with an emotion somewhere between desperation and…Cas refuses to let himself think ‘love’, not wanting to feed into his own false hope, but it’s something very close to it.

In spite of himself, he smiles, allowing Dean to take care of him as his eyes flutter shut one last time.

…  

When Cas comes to, he’s shirtless and carefully bandaged, though he doesn’t need it anymore;  his Grace heeled the wound over night.  Now, not even a scar remains.

He doesn’t have much time to pontificate on this, however, because Dean is beside him, asleep on the sofa, one arm draped over Castiel’s bare midsection and the other wrapped around a pillow, snoring softly.  

Cas watches him, too awed to say anything, for the better part of a half hour.  Not even Dean drooling on his pillow is enough to detract from the wonder of him being here.  The fact that he has, apparently, stayed with him throughout the night, his body pressed against his own.

And here Cas had been losing faith in miracles.  

After a while, Dean’s eyes flitter open, and he awakens with a startled snort as he realizes Cas is staring at him.  

Cas is about to apologize for staring, again, when Dean has expressed his desire for him not to, but Dean is only sitting up on his elbow, grinning stupidly at him and rubbing the drool off his chin.  

“Cas,” he half-chuckles, voice breathy and slightly awed.  “You’re alive.”

Cas nods sagely, grunting as he sits back on his pillow.  “I believe so, yes.”

“That’s…”  Dean trails off, laughing breathlessly.  “That’s awesome, man.  We didn’t think you were gonna make it for a while.  If you were human, that blow would’ve been-”  He trails off.  “I’m glad you’re here, man.”

Cas is barely listening at this point, still staring at Dean in quiet awe.

“You…stayed with me,”  he murmurs, Dean blinks, looking slightly taken aback by the statement:  it’s almost a question, the way Cas phrases it; the inquiry of why is evident in his voice.

“Of course I did, man.  We care about you,” he says, hand rubbing at the back of his neck.  “I care about you.”

Cas stares at him, expression unreadable.  Slowly, he nods.

They’re still lying there, on the sofa, bodies pressed close.  Dean is so warm, so soft and pliable against him, radiating the heat Castiel has craved for so long.

Cas wets his lips.  “Can we stay like this, just a little while?”  he asks, voice barely a whisper.  He doesn’t want to make Dean feel uncomfortable, but he wants this closeness so badly.  He never wants it to stop.

There’s a brief pause.  Dean swallows before he answers, “Sure, Cas.  Whatever you need, buddy.”

Cas smiles, tentatively resting his head against Dean’s shoulder.  He closes his eyes, not missing the way Dean leans into his touch, the contented sigh he breathes through his nose.  

And Cas knows, in that moment, that Dean’s wanted this too.  Maybe as much as Cas has, if that’s possible.

It only feels natural when Dean leans in for a kiss.  

Favorite Color? (Soulmate Au)

Originally posted by newtloveshisfantasticbeasts

Request: A soulmate Au where you see grey until you meet your soulmate.


The world had always been grey for (Y/n), and it would probably be grey for the rest of her life. You see (Y/n) was raised by a pure-blood family, and being a pure-blood came at a cost. They never meet their soulmate. Sure on occasions, if you were lucky, they’re betrothed was their soulmate but most of the time it never happened.

She was only 7 when she found out that most people could see in color. Which surprised her, considering her parents also only saw grey. That’s when (Y/n)’s parents explained about soulmates and how if she met hers then the world became colorful. Even then she still was okay with seeing grey for the rest of her  life.

That was until (Y/n) arrived in Illvermorny. Sure for awhile all the kids saw grey but by 5th year almost all of them could see in color. All except the pure-bloods. She tried to ignore the taunts of being called “Soulless.” or the taunts of “Hey pure-blood are you sure there’s even someone for you out there?” That’s when the hatred for grey bubbled inside her. 

It was that very blasted color that kept her from being normal. That one color. The bullying was extremely worse one day and that’s when she met the Goldsteins. 

“Hey Pure-blood you do know what color this is right?” A boy taunted waving a grey fabric in her face. No matter how hard she concentrated (Y/n) couldn’t tell, but she knew what happened if she got it wrong. Tears gathered in her eyes as she grew more and more frustrated. “Hey pure-blood I don’t hear an answer!”

“Leave her alone! She’s not bothering anyone” A voice cried out catching the group off guard. Another student, a girl, stood with her arms cross. She was a fairly tall girl with short wavy hair and a frown was on her face.

The boy huffed slightly. “Aw come on Queenie it’s just a little fun!” (Y/n) watched cautiously as the girl made her way over with a sweet smile on her face. It honestly scared (Y/n).

Queenie let out a giggle and replied,”Oh I’m sure it is, but do you want me to tell your soulmate about your other fun?” The boy’s face seemed to get paler and Queenie smirked. “That’s what I thought now run along.” Tina plopped down beside (Y/n) as the boy quickly made his get away. “Are you alright sweetie?”

(Y/n) shifted slightly and gave Queenie a thankful look. “Yea it’s pretty normal…” She mumbled fiddling with her hands.

Queenie huffed slightly shaking her head causing her curls to bounce in every direction. “Well it shouldn’t!” She turned to (Y/n) and smiled. “I’m Queenie Goldstein by the way.”

(Y/n) smiled slightly. “(Y/n) (L/n)… It’s nice to meet you…”

It seemed after that day (Y/n) no longer cared about colors. Cause when she met the Goldstein sisters she found out that not only pure-bloods got stuck seeing grey. That in fact sometimes other people met their soulmates later on in life. In fact, she had accepted that she might not meet her soulmate and decided that grey was her favorite color. That was until she met her soulmate.


(Y/n) had been slightly fidgety all day. Queenie was bringing her soulmate over to meet her along with his friend. She would have been glad for it, but this was not the week. You see (Y/n) and her parents had struck a deal a long time ago. She had 1 year to find her soul mate or else she would be married off. This was her last week to find him, but she knew that no matter what she couldn’t say no to Queenie.

So here she was in one of her nice dresses waiting for Queenie to show up. She glanced around making sure that her apartment was all set. Her great horned owl, Athena, was perched in her cage sleeping. All her papers were neatly organized on the coffee table in the living room. The flames in her fireplace were going steady and she glanced into the kitchen. the table was all set for everyone and the food was still cooking.

A small knock sounded on the door and (Y/n) was instantly at the door. “Queenie!” She exclaimed hugging the girl tightly. 

Queenie let out a laugh and pulled out of the hug. She grinned widely at the girl. “(Y/n)! It’s so good to see you!” She stepped inside and pulled a short man in with her. “(Y/n) meet Jacob my soulmate!” Queenie leaned in and whispered excitedly,”He’s also a no-maj so let’s try to keep this quiet.”

(Y/n)’s eyes widened slightly at the word “No-maj” but kept her mouth shut. She and Queenie knew the consequence of being caught… But if Queenie was happy that was all that mattered. She smiled at Jacob and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you Jacob.”

He smiled slightly. “It’s nice to meet you as well  (Y/n). Queenie speaks fondly about you…”

(Y/n) smiled slightly at the thought. She suddenly remembered something and frowned. “Hey wasn’t there supposed someone else?”

Queenie giggled and replied,”He’s outside the door… He’s just a little shy” She took Jacob’s hand and sang, “Come on Newt. She won’t bite.”

(Y/n) watched as a tall man came into view. His curly hair covering his eyes as he stared at the ground. He was carrying a slightly beat up suitcase as well. “Hello I’m-.” The moment his eyes met hers a pain shot through her skull.

That’s when she saw it. At first she didn’t know how to describe it. It was the most beautiful color she had ever seen and almost immediately the name clicked. She was staring into his green eyes. That moment she decided at that very moment that green was her favorite color. His eyes were wide in shock.

“Newt? (Y/n)?” Jacob’s voice pulled the two back from their moment. ‘Are you two alright?”

(Y/n) let out a small laugh and turned to them again. Queenie instantly noticed the sparkle in her eyes. (Y/n) grinned and replied, “Yea Jacob perfectly fine.”

Newt stepped beside her and hesitantly took her hand. “I guess I should introduce you to my Soulmate,” Newt joked sending a flutter of butterflies through (Y/n).

Soulmate…. (Y/n) smiled softly at the word. I could love this….


HEY GUYS I’M BACK FROM THE DEAD! That’s right I’m back I have finally been inspired and it’s about time! Also any valentines day ideas would be awesome! Anyways this is my longest one I’m pretty sure so I hope you like it!s

On the Case Files

Pairing: Reid x Reader

Word Count: 1,591

Request: NO

Warnings: major smut

Summary: After a long week on a case, the team returns home, all tired and ready for a good seven hours of sleep, but Reid has a hard time keeping it in his pants, so he just decides to do the reader on top of her case files. Features really horny Spencer and public sex. You’re welcome

Originally posted by adriansarkisi

“Anyone up for dinner?” Emily asked as soon as everyone was back inside the bullpen that night.  The case had taken all week, and it was a relief to be back home.  

“Em, it’s already ten o’clock.  I’d love to, but I can barely keep my eyes open,” JJ replied, walking into her office to retrieve the rest of her belongings.

“Yeah, I’m going to have to second that.  But thanks for the offer,” Morgan said to her.

“Reid, how about you and y/n?” Emily asked across her desk.  

“I think we’ll pass,” Spencer replied.  He sat down at his desk and fired up his computer.  “I still have something I need to finish anyways.”

You looked over at Emily.  “Thanks, Em,” you told her.  She smiled and bid the rest of the team goodbye as Hotch and Rossi were both long gone.

“I’ll see you two tomorrow.  Make sure this kid gets a good night’s sleep,” Morgan said to you as he patted your boyfriend on his back.

“I will,” you replied with a smile.

Soon, JJ was out the door as well and it was just you and Spencer left in the bullpen.  You decided to sit down at your desk to go through some case files that JJ had given you to review as she couldn’t really decide which ones to present to the team.  You were always a big help to her with that.

It wasn’t long before you felt an arm slither around your neck, holding you tightly.  You smiled while continuing to look over the files.  But it was hard to focus when you could feel Spencer’s lips against your neck.

“Spence what are you doing?” you asked with a confused smile.

“I need you,” he whispered against your skin, the feeling of his hot breath giving you goosebumps.

“Spencer,” you warned him.  But his hand inched down to your chest, slightly cupping each breast.  “Spencer!” you yelled, swatting his hands away.  “There cameras in here.”

“So?” he asked, continuing his assault to your neck.  You sighed in pleasure as he nipped and sucked at the flesh below your ear.

“Spence, I’m serious.  If Garcia is still here, she’ll see us,” you told him, but you weren’t making a move to stop him.

“She’s gone, and I can delete the footage,” he promised as he grabbed your chair and swung it around so you were facing him.  In no less than two seconds, he hauled you out of your chair and onto your desk, on top of the case files you still needed to go through completely.  “I need you right now,” he admitted, attacking your lips with his.

He was hardly ever as horny as he was right now, and you had to admit that it was really turning you on.  And the thought of him taking you in the middle of the bullpen made it so much hotter.

His tongue was greedily exploring your mouth, and although you wanted to push him away, his savory taste, as addicting as it was, made you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer.  Your legs tightened their grip around his waist, and you instantly felt his excitement protruding from his pants.  You moved hips forward to meet his, gaining you a pleasure moan from your boyfriend.

His hands were greedy as they roamed every inch of your body until he eventually had one arm wrapped completely around your back to hold you as close to him as possible, and the other was at your core, rubbing roughly against the fabric of your pants.  You moaned against his mouth in response to his eager hand.

“Fuck,” he whispered into your open mouth.  “You’re soaking through your pants.”

Who knew sex in a public place could do that to you?

You moved your hands to undo his fly just as he began to undo yours.  About a minute ago, you wanted to shove Spencer away, but now you were too incredibly turned on to stop, and you knew you wanted him just about as much as he wanted you.

You could hear the case files beneath you crinkle and you knew JJ was going to wonder how the hell they got so messed up, but you didn’t care in that moment.

Spencer finally had your pants off, leaving you in your underwear.  You were still trying to shove his off, but it became harder to do anything when his hand was suddenly inside your panties, gathering your juices onto his fingers.  He stopped kissing your and leaned back, taking his hand from your panties and putting your arousal against your lips, prompting you to suck the taste of yourself off his fingers.  His mouth was opened slightly in awe of what he was watching and you instinctively pulled your legs closer to you, causing his erection to press against your core yet again.

You moaned at the taste of yourself and looked him right in the eyes, slowing beginning to rub yourself on him, making his arousal grow with every small thrust.

His eyes were hungry as they watched you slurp up the last of your slickness.

You were both panting by this point.  There was nothing sexier in the world to you than what was currently happening in the BAU bullpen.

“Do you wanna taste?” you asked him in a low voice.  His eyes lit up at your invitation and to answer your question, he knelt down to face your center, wasting no time to remove your panties and lick clean up your lips, making you moan some more.  

He usually took his time when it came to sex, foreplay was his favorite thing about the bedroom.  Teasing you was his forte, but right now, all he wanted - all he needed - was you and he felt he had no time at all.

You placed each of your legs onto his shoulders to give him a better angle.  His tongue was circling around your clit while his fingers entered you without warning.  His movements were rough as he retracted his fingers and shoved them back inside of you, repeating the process over and over again.  Your moans got louder and louder as you approached your climax, and it took over you with one final thrust of his fingers, hitting you in just the right spot.  You held onto the table underneath you to keep yourself from falling backwards, but that didn’t matter because no later than you came did Spencer remove his fingers from your core and stand up, fully discarding his pants and releasing his erect member from his boxers.

“I love you,” he said in a rush as he connected his mouth to yours once more before thrusting into you without so much as a warning.  You yelped in surprise and pleasure as he kept his movements rough and quick.  The only sounds in the room were those of your loud moans and skin against skin.  You didn’t want to think about how messy the files under you were, so you started to thrust along with Spencer, meeting the rhythm of his hips, a large slap each time your cores met together again.

The cameras were surely picking up every moment of your scandalous activities, and it only made you feel more excited with every breath that became shorter and harder to take.  

It didn’t take long for Spencer to climax, releasing himself inside of you with every thrust.  His moans against your mouth were enough to send you over the edge once more, releasing for a second time within the matter of minutes.

Riding out your highs together, you kissed each other, open mouthed and messy.  

You finally reopened your eyes to look up at your boyfriend.  His hair was a mess, sticking to his sweaty forehead.  You couldn’t imagine what you looked like.

“Couldn’t wait, could you?” you asked him with a sleepy smile.  He chuckled in response and removed himself from you, pulling his boxers back up to his hips.  You sat for a moment on the case files, bare from your waist down, wondering what you were going to say when JJ saw them.

“I’ll reprint those for you,” Spencer said as if reading your mind.

You looked up to the ceiling and winced as you pointed to the camera that was fixated right on your desk, signalling that it captured every moment.  Spencer looked up to see what you were pointing at and although his face grew red with realization, he smirked and disappeared through Penelope’s door to delete the footage of you two fucking on your desk and a pile of file folders.

While he was gone, you put your clothes back on and mentally cursed at yourself seeing the damp files.  They were covered in your climax, and although the thought of it was arousing, the sight was slightly disgusting.  You laughed slightly as you picked up each ruined folder and disposed of them into the trash just as Spencer returned from Garcia’s lair.

His smile was all too mischievous as he grabbed his things.  You narrowed your eyes at him.

“What are you smiling about?” you asked, gathering your own things.

He said nothing but simply held up a flash drive.  You rolled your eyes with a smile and reached for it, slipping it into your purse.  No way were you going to let him hold onto that.

“I love you, too,” you said as you walked hand in hand out of the bullpen.

Officer Jeon || Jungkook Scenario

Originally posted by jungkookfortunekookies

Genre: Fluff | Police Officer!Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (Duh cx)

Word count: 1615

Warnings: None, it’s all fluff cx


(A/N: Okay, so no-one actually requested this, but I saw this prompt, and I just thought it was a really cute idea so I wanted to write this cx Ah, please do tell me what you thought!! I really would like feedback!!)


Your hand rested on the steering wheel, your hair billowing into your face as wind blew in from the open sunroof of the car. You sighed, attempting to push your hair away from your mouth with your free hand, only for it to fly back into your face again, causing you to throw your hand up in frustration.  Quiet music reverberated through the vehicle, and you gently bobbed your head along to the beat, a hum coming from your lips. Quickly glancing at the face of your watch, you groaned; two in the morning and you were still making your way home.

The road was eerily quiet, no other car in sight as you rolled past small shops, houses, nearing a small police station. Trees lined each side of the street, almost creating a natural canopy of lush green leaves above you, your mouth opening slightly in awe as you glanced up through the open sunroof. A leaf fluttered down from above, falling on your head, and you shook your head with a smile, plucking it off your head. It was followed by yet another leaf, and another, and you looked up with a puzzled expression, a rustling in the branches directly above you.

“Hm…?” You cocked your head slightly, glancing back at the road ahead of you cautiously, the rustling becoming increasingly louder, as something tumbled out of the branches. Something small and furry. Something that fell directly through the exposed sunroof, landing on your shoulder and frantically scrambling around. You screamed as the squirrel madly scratched at your face, tugging on your hair and running down your arm. Flailing around in fright, the car swerved off violently to the side of the road, as you drove straight into a pole, your head snapping backwards slightly. The car finally came to a halt, the front indented, and you fumbled for the handle, attempting to escape the rabid creature in your car.

You had crashed directly in front of the passing police station, and at the sound of the impact, a young police officer emerged from the building, looking at the car curiously, squinting as he noticed you falling out of the now open door. He approached the vehicle, crouching down beside you and offering you his hand, his smile resembling that of a bunny. You gingerly accepted the help, and he pulled you up, looking you up and down with a curious expression. You simply stared at him blankly, suddenly conscious of your ruffled appearance as this handsome man stood in front of you with an expectant expression, his hair a dark shade of… purple?

“What happened here, Miss…?” He inquired, still looking at you with that cute grin, his eyes sparkling almost mischievously.

“Ah, it’s (Y/N)…” You stuttered, enraptured by his handsome features, your eyes lingering a bit too long as you admired how his uniform fitted his body, as he peered over at your car, his eyebrows furrowing as he saw the squirrel still darting around. Following his gaze, you shuddered, stepping away from the car, shaking your head with your hands up.

“I was just trying to get home but I left my sunroof open all day and now there’s a squirrel in my car and it scared me and I drove into a pole, and..” You rambled, frantically gesturing with your hands, your eyes wide with shock. The police officer stared at you with disbelief, his fist held to his mouth as he tried his best to stay professional and suppress his laughter, but he couldn’t help but chuckle, causing you to stop and stare, annoyed as you put your hands on your hips.

“Would you please stop laughing you’re a cop, you’re supposed to be helping.” You pursed your lips - and yet you couldn’t really be annoyed as you realised how absurd you sounded - the officer throwing up his hands in apology, charming smile ever present on his face.

“I’m sorry, Miss (Y/N), I hope you weren’t injured?” He looked you up and down in concern, and you felt your heart flutter ever so slightly as his eyes softened. You snapped out of your trance, clearing your throat and glancing over at your car, the squirrel finally perking up and scrambling out of the car, and back to the trees. You finally sighed in relief, the officer looking at you with amusement, his head cocking to the side slightly - it wasn’t everyday that a cute girl happened to crash on the doorstep of the police station.

“Miss? Do you happen to need a ride home, seeing as your car is… well,” he gestured over to your car pressed up against the lamppost, a small indent in the bonnet of the car.

You visibly perked up at his suggestion, before realising how overly eager you looked and clearing your throat, attempting to act casual about the matter. Never mind the fact that a cute police officer is offering to take you home, no big deal, you tried to convince yourself.

“I mean, sure, I guess…” You said, looking down at your hand, tilting your head to the side as you looked back up at him, the amused expression still on his face, as he began walking over to a police car parked in the corner.

“It’s Jungkook by the way,” the officer called out, flashing a grin at you as he opened the passenger door for you courteously, and you felt a dusty pink rising up onto your cheeks at his gaze. Jungkook. So that was the name of this handsome officer.

“Miss?” He called out once again, this time with a stern tone, causing you to freeze halfway through climbing into the police car. You glanced up at him cautiously, his expression now stoic and stern, leaving you wondering what you had done this time around. I always have to mess stuff up, you thought, mentally sighing as you had ruined your chances once again.

“I’ve just realised that you’ve broken the law, Miss.” He crossed his arms over his firm chest, and you felt panic rise up in your chest, your eyes widening in shock. You opened your mouth to speak, but you noticed a smirk spreading onto his face, his eyebrows raised playfully, as he said, “Don’t you know it’s illegal to be that cute?”

You groaned at the lame pick up line, and yet you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips, your heart thudding against your chest in pure relief, and possible admiration. “Who knew police officers could be so lame?” You muttered, and Jungkook climbed into the driver’s seat, spinning around in his seat as he just about caught your comment.

“Excuse me, Miss (Y/N)? I think I might just have to arrest you for that comment,” he chuckled, his eyes sparkling with playfulness, and you felt butterflies fluttering around in your chest, threatening to burst out.

“I mean… I’d let you arrest me anyday, but…” You coughed, as Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows, shaking his head with a laugh. “Someone found their confidence, huh?” He retaliated, his heart swelling at your sudden flirtation attempt.

You giggled, and Jungkook turned back around in his seat, starting up the car and reversing out of the drive, one hand on the wheel as you drove down the street. You directed him to where he should drop you off, your hand accidentally brushing against his muscular arm as you pointed forwards, causing you to blush even more. You were grateful for the fact that he didn’t question why you were still making your way home at this ungodly hour, and instead you exchanged playful banter the whole journey back, the sound of laughter filling the vehicle.

You finally reached your destination, and you pouted slightly as Jungkook parked the car, realising that meant you would have to go. You didn’t know if you were going to see him again, although your heart was desperately leaping in your chest, as he grinned charmingly again. You were about to climb out of the car, before Jungkook called you back, the butterflies in your chest becoming even more frantic.

“I, uh, am going to require your phone number… for, um, returning your car purposes…” A adorable shyness overcame Jungkook, and you resisted the urge to coo at him, instead giggling, taking his notepad from his pocket and jotting down your number for him.

“Returning my car purposes, huh?” You teased, throwing your head back in a laugh as you handed back his notepad, and he chuckled. In that moment, your eyes lighting up in joy, the sound of your laugh so sweet and genuine, he truly hoped your paths would cross again - the fleeting hope that another squirrel would fall into your car again, and he looked down with a smile.

“Uh, thank you for the ride, Jungkook,” you said, stepping out of the car, and bending down to look through the door with a sweet smile. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem, Miss,” he responded lightly, his heart still fluttering in his chest.

“Do we have to with the “Miss”? It’s so overly formal, just call me (Y/N),” you chuckled, and Jungkook shook his head with a smile.

“(Y/N) it is then.” He nodded, still admiring how genuinely happy you looked, and you waved, walking away with a spring in your step.

“Ah… how adorable.” He rested his chin on the steering wheel, his lips curled up in a smile, as he glanced down at the number you had written down, signing your name off with a little heart. That day he returned home with an uplifted mood, hoping your paths would cross again.

Nesta’s First Starfall

Requested by Anonymous 102: “To the night you’ll never remember.” 

Nessian - Starfall


It’s Nesta’s first Starfall and Cassian has taken on the responsibility of watching her. He eagerly volunteered to do it though he would never tell her that. He told her to dress nicely and that he will pick her up at nine to go out and join the festivities. Nesta grumbled a reply and had stalked off to the library.

Now, Cassian stands outside her room, a fist prepared to knocks on her door, but he pauses. He’s not sure what’s going to happen tonight, not sure what he wants to happen tonight. After all, the whole Inner Circle knows how Starfall had helped to open Feyre’s eyes to her feelings for Rhys, who knows what kind of affect tonight would have on Nesta, who was already so close to realizing what was between them. With a sharp intake of breath, Cassian knocks.

His fist is still in the air when the door opens less than a second later. Nesta stands on the other side, one eyebrow raised, and Cassian lets out a low whistle at her appearance. Looking utterly breathtaking, she dons a floor length dress that hugs her form until flaring just above the knee. It is dark blue and incredibly elegant.

“You have to stop hanging about like this, it’s unnerving.” She mutters, slipping her hand into his own outstretched one and allowing him to lead her down the hallway.

Cassian chuckles a bit. “Forgive me, you’re a little unnerving.”

Nesta surprises him by letting a small smirk flit onto her lips, lifting her skirt as they descend the stairs. “So, what is the plan for the evening? Dancing? Food? Wine?”

Cassian places a hand on the doorknob, pausing to give her his own smirk. “Oh, no. Starfall holds something a little more hardcore than that.” Then he opens the door and watches as Nesta’s eyes widen in delight.

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Ferus Ferrum

It would be difficult to secure funding for a literary journal in a standard university - at Elsewhere, most professors wouldn’t dare. Going to the Dean to beg for money, it would be too much like a deal, a favor owed - even if the Dean wasn’t one of them, you didn’t make tenure at EU by taking unnecessary risks.

So it’s difficult, but not impossible - which is why everyone is slightly in awe of Professor Howell, when the petite, soft-spoken poetry professor announces to her classes that she’s looking for volunteer readers and editors.

They call the journal Ferus Ferrum, and their submissions come from across the country. The staff are all English or Creative Writing majors - they know the Rules, and Professor Howell trains them well. The editors learn how to create an email database, how to solicit submissions without “please” or “thank you”; they choose pen names and debate different weights of paper and call the printers to ask if their toner contains iron oxide.

When the first issue is printed they have a release party, with pizza and cake and a tray of vanilla pudding from the dining hall tucked into the corner. There is a palpable but unspoken amazement in the air that they made it, that the journal is sitting in front of them finished, and no one was mysteriously disappeared or even “borrowed,”, and everyone is filled with awe and pride and a fierce kind of victory over the particular entropy of Elsewhere.

So of course, at the end of the party Professor Howell makes an announcement to her staff: she’s leaving.

Not for good. They’ve never known a professor to leave EU, although they don’t think about it particularly hard. She’s pregnant, she tells them, and she’s going to take the next year off for maternity leave. She’s convinced a colleague to take over advising Ferus Ferrum, Professor Chapel, and he’s new.

As they walk back to dorms and parking lots, Howell takes her editors aside. He’s new, she tells them, and they nod, but they don’t understand. They’re writers and they learned the Rules quick, and they all secretly believe that the people who don’t realize the strangeness of Elsewhere are hiding something.

Professor Chapel walks into the first editorial meeting of the next year and the poetry editor looks to the nonfiction reader on her right and they both think, “Ah, he’s new.” Chapel grins freely and stammers and bleeds apologies. He has a tattoo that is a reference four-places removed from a Dickinson poem, and he gushes at length about an obscure short story he read in his first year of grad school. He’s a wonderful professor, and an excellent advisor, and he hasn’t the faintest clue about the Rules. The Ferus Ferrum staff, new and old, take one look at him and realize he’s a sitting duck.

With the steel resolve of their first issue backing them, the head copy editor immediately begins organizing the troops. Two fictions readers who work together at a cafe smuggle out salted bagels and a photo editor delivers them to Professor Chapel’s office every morning. Someone produces a fountain pen with a ring of iron below the grip and hands it over as a welcome present. In meetings they make sure to rib him when he missteps around the “school traditions,” and make an inside joke of talking to the crows. He is constantly puzzled by the salt packets that make their way into his bag, his coat pockets, the corners of his office.

It’s a massive undertaking, and requires almost as much coordination as putting the journal itself together. Which is why it’s so disappointing when “Professor Chapel” walks into a meeting late with sharp teeth and golden eyes.

(They give him back a couple days later, thankfully. At least he doesn’t complain about the salt packets anymore.)

[x]

2

I used to have a different style but it looked horrible so I made up a different style for when I post stuff. I’ve always hated doing realistic stuff though. I used to tell my art teacher that if I wanted to look at something realistic then I would take a picture because I was awful at it.

Jeff Sessions thinks pot is only “slightly less awful” than heroin. He’s completely wrong.

When it comes to drug use, Attorney General Jeff Sessions thinks marijuana dependency is only “slightly less awful” than heroin dependency.During a speech in Richmond, Virginia, to an audience of federal, state and local law enforcement on Wednesday, Sessions — the highest legal authority in the United States — said that he rejects “the idea that America will be a better place if marijuana is sold in every corner store.”  Read more. (3/15/2017 3:30 PM)
Unexpected

pairing: lin manuel miranda x reader

word count: 2300 (did NOT mean for it to be this long)

warnings: swearing

prompt/request: “Hiiii, can I get a lin x reader where they run into each other on the street or something and they’re both wearing the same outfit (like black jeans and gray hoodies(™️️) and red converse or something) and its just really fluffy and stuff? Ok thanks!!” from an anon

a/n: thIS PROMPT WAS SO CUTE AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH AND I HOPE I DID IT JUSTICE. enJOY!!!


Fuck this wind, you thought angrily as you stomped down a New York City sidewalk.

It had been a tough day, to say the least. Your boss was a moron, your co-workers were bitches, and you had started the morning off by waking up half an hour later than you normally intended and, in result, arrived an hour late for work, which earned you glares and lots of scolding – not to mention your laundry hadn’t finished in time, so you were stuck wearing the same hoodie, jeans, and black converse you wore the night before to make a convenience store run.

When you finally got off for lunch break, you knew you needed to get out of there.

You moved your hood down so it was over your face and slid your phone into the back pocket of your jeans. Grey clouds gathered overhead, and the swift breeze whipped hair across your face and into your mouth. Your eyebrows knitted together in the center of your forehead. You didn’t want to go back to work, but with weather like this? How the hell was your mood supposed to improve when the weather was so utterly miserable? It would do nothing but make you angrier, and you knew if you got any angrier, you wouldn’t be able to get any work done. You stopped for a second, pulled out your phone, and just began to type in your passcode when –

Smack!

You fell face-first onto the cement.

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anonymous asked:

Prompt idea: trimberly hanging out at the coffee shop for a date and Kimberly's fake friends start talking shit. And trini's like :)))))) "square TF up son." And Kimberly's like "Tini, babe don't fight people" ya.

This was very hard, and is probably really bad but here you go!

tw: minor homophobia and racism

“No Trin! Get your hands away from it, the glazed donut is mine!”

Kimberly swatted Trini’s hand away, Trini giggling as Kimberly exclaimed, a small smile spreading across her face. They had decided to go on a a café date instead of going to Saturday detention, which they both knew would bite them in the ass later, but they couldn’t care less. They hadn’t been able to spend much time together lately, other than sneaking into each others rooms late at night. Trini and Kim both missed being able to see each other every day, but since Rita attacked Trini, leaving horrible marks across Trini’s skin, something that caused waves of anger and rage to flow through Kim’s body, and massive dents in Trini’s wall, Trini’s mother had buckled down on her, much more protective and manipulative. So they had decided to skip, and eat donuts and laugh, and just be carefree, a feeling that they cherished much more lately.

Trini went to pick up her fork, a mischievous glint in her eyes, a knowing smirk spreading across her lips. Kimberly squinted her eyes, a playful smile on her face, as she grabbed her fork with lightning speed, and stabbed at the donut, her hand being swatted by Trini, who in turn, started moving the napkin which the donut laid on top of sporadically, her eyes trained on Kimberly. Their little game went on for at least a couple minutes before Trini lunged at the donut, her fork lodging into the table, as she yanked back, and stuffed the entire donut into her mouth. Trini smirked victoriously, her cheeks popping out. Kimberly wanted to pout and act all sad but she couldn’t help but smile at how cute Trini looked, like a little chipmunk. Kimberly giggled as Trini struggled to swallow the donut, Kimberly giving her a look, which said ‘you deserved that’.

Kimberly was still smirking at how cute Trini looked when she heard the cafe door open, the familiar bell ringing, and shutting. Both girls didn’t pay much attention to it. Kimberly was to focused on Trini chugged her coffee, trying to wash down the donut, but then Kimberly heard the sound of heels hitting the hardwood, and the smell of overly expensive make up. Kimberly didn’t want to look up, she didn’t really care, but Trini started to become smaller in her seat, her defence mechanism, one that Kimberly knew all to well. Kimberly tilted her head slightly, and she could see her ex cheer mates, Rebecca and Amanda, her fellow queen bees, or at least the queen bees, seeing as nobody on the cheer team of football team would look at her, unless they were bad mouthing her. She made eye contact with Amanda, Kimberly’s eyes holding a fiery glint, her jaw tightening. They held eye contact until Amanda scoffed and looked away, her eyes setting on Trini, who was trying to make herself smaller, memories about mean girls at her previous schools washing over her. Kimberly clenched her jaw, taking Trini’s hand in her own, squeezing it, the other girl opening up a little more, returning from her shell. Trini could see the fiery glint in Kimberly’s eyes, but she could also see the guilt and remorse, remembering the horrible thing she had done. Trini started rubbing the pad of her thumb across Kimberly’s knuckles, wordlessly calming the girl down, reassuring her.

Kimberly and Trini both tried ignoring the other girls, trying to enjoy the time they had together, but that was quite hard when the two girls had super hearing, being able to hear all the rude and mean things the cheerleaders were saying about them, specifically Kimberly.

“Shouldn’t she be in detention, with all the other freaks?”

“How much do you think she hates herself after everything that happened?”

“Probably a lot considering she’s hanging out with the new dyke.”

With each insult, Trini’s could feel her hands clenching, and Kimberly wanted to say something, wanted to yell at the other girls, but she didn’t want to cause more trouble than she already had, so tried to stay quiet, she tried not to pay attention, but Trini on the other hand, she was not having any of it. Trini’s hands clenched once more, trying to conceal her rage, but her attempt failed as she finally said something.

“Try saying that to our face!”

Trini yelled, jumping out of her seat, her hands balled into fists. Luckily for them, the cafe was quite empty, but the few people who were inside bowed their heads away, trying to ignore Trini, who was radiating anger. Amanda turned towards Trini, tilting her head in curiosity, a devilish glint in her eyes. Kimberly knew that look all too well, she knew what was to come, and it wouldn’t be good.

“What did you say to me, bitch?”

Trini visibly shrinks, stuttering slightly, as she tries to step back, to get away, to run, to escape. Kimberly feels her hands clench, Amanda and Rebecca could taunt and bitch at her, but Trini was strictly off limits, Kimberly knew that Trini wouldn’t be able to take Amanda on, seeing as the cheer leader could ruin her life, but Kimberly wasn’t about to let that happen. She decided against smacking or yelling at Amanda, even though her entire body was telling her too, so she just grabbed Trini’s hand, pulling her away.

“Let’s go.”

She mutters, hoping that Trini would listen, neither of the girls wanting to stay near Amanda and her lackey, or start a fight. Trini pushed past Rebecca, who knocks Trini of balance slightly, another wave of protectiveness rushing through Kimberly. They are about to walk out of the shop, but Rebecca says something that makes Kimberly stop dead in her tracks.

“I wonder when she’ll get deported.”

Kimberly stoped, even as Trini tried to pull her away. Trini had heard the racist slurs before, the “go back to your own country” and the “just wait until he builds the wall” most of the time she ignored it, knowing that her retaliating would cause more trouble than good, but Kim didn’t know that, didn’t know how many times Trini’s family had faced the racist comments and threats, and how many times Trini had to walk away, making herself smaller every time. Trini could feel Kimberly’s hand clench around her own, she wanted to do something, to yell, to scream, to wipe the stupid smug look of the Rebecca’s face. Kimberly turned around, her eyes glaring daggers at Rebecca.

“What the fuck did you just say!?”

Kimberly yells, the astonished rage radiating from her body. Trini held on tight to Kimberly, trying not to say anything, but she wanted more than anything to retaliate. Amanda scowled at the both of them before brushing them off.

“Why don’t you just go run off with your girlfriend, lezbos.”

Trini didn’t know what she did next, she just reacted, all the pent up aggression shooting through her as she turned around, bringing her hand up, backhanding Amanda square across her cheek, the sound radiating through the silent cafe. Trini stared in awe at what she did, as well as Kimberly, who reacted quicker than Trini, yanking Trini’s arm, pushing them through the door, both of them running away from the cafe, but not without hearing Amanda yell something along the lines of “YOU’RE GOING TO HEAR FROM MY LAWYER” or something else a spoilt, white, brat would say.

The girls ran away as fast as they could at a normal pace, not wanting to look suspicious, once they were far enough away, they slowed down their pace. A quiet, astonished laughter erupted from Kimberly, as she commented, slightly out of breath.

“That was not how I expected our date to go.”

Trini chuckled slightly, still quite in awe of what she did, she had never stood up for herself like that before. Trini didn’t say anything, staring at the ground, which Kimberly noticed, asking her warmly.

“Are you okay?”

Trini just chuckled and stated, laughter bubbling in her throat.

“We are so utterly, fucking, screwed.”

Kimberly started laughing, a little surprised, but she couldn’t help the feeling of satisfaction she felt as Trini hit Amanda. She knew it was not the right thing to do, but she was proud that Trini had been able to stand up to the girl, knowing that Trini had never been able to do it before, as well as laugh it off. Silence filled the air around them, as they took in what happened. They knew that the following monday, they would face a lot of shit, but right now they didn’t care, so they just laughed it off, everything else fading away.

Game Day

Pairing: Stiles x Reader

Author: @ninja-stiles

Words: 2263

Authors Note: I wanted to make a Stiles imagine for @rememberstilinski and @sarcasticallystilinski‘s Lacrosse Week, so here it is! I hope you guys enjoy. I want to thank @dylanobsessed for editing it for me! 

Originally posted by maliatatelenagilbert

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And so they did

PROMPT: soulmate au where the first thing your soulmate says is tattooed on your arm, however, both dan and phils tattoos are in a foreign language that they don’t understand (as in they don’t speak the same language)

(prompt from @phanfic)

WORDS: 1785

(WARNINGS/TRIGGERS) none, as far as im concerned, though the quickest mention of abusive ever, right at the start. a few nervous/down thoughts I guess?

GENRE: fluff :)

(AUTHORS NOTE) im popping the oneshot cherry, presenting you with this, looking for some followers on here, @phanfucks , ao3 agnesisacunt, ff.net agnesfandoms, and my wattpad ineedfiction. also my ig danisabear but whatevs really. also this is kinda short dan bc he’s only seventeen at this point. anyway. enjoooooooooooooooooooy :)) also feedback helps the flowers grow

~~~

(Phil’s pov)

Philip Lester lived in a world where people had ‘soul-quotes’. That was the name of the little thing that was written on your arm from birth, the first thing your soulmate would say to you. Some people found their soulmates when they were just 7, some people even had to wait fifty years, and some never got their soulmate. Maybe they never met, maybe their soulmate was mean or abusive, or maybe they didn’t have a mark, or their soulmate had a mark for another person.

Soulmates didn’t have to be relationships, more often than not they were, but they could be friendships too.

The thing with Phil’s soul-quote? It was in danish. ‘Undskyld, men tog du lige et billede af mig?’ what?? He’d once tried looking it up on google translate, the sentence ‘sorry, but did you just take a picture of me?’ didn’t make any sense back then, but now, as a photography student, it kind of did. Kind of.

It was all very exciting though, him having a soulmate from a different country, while all his friends just had british soulmates. Phil also may have kind of dreamed about his soulmate finding Phil’s slight british accent hot.

But currently, he was more excited than ever. He was going to Denmark with his photography class at uni, because every year a country to go to was chosen by the students of the class, they’d have five options, and Phil may have convinced 13 people to choose Denmark. They would arrive at Copenhagen airport in about 45 minutes, use the rest of the day to get settled in, get right in to photography monday morning, and then take the train to a city in jytland called Aarhus on tuesday evening, where they’d spend three more days. Phil was ecstatic. Even at 8 o’clock on a sunday morning, he’d never been more excited.

~~~

The first day of Copenhagen was unsuccesful. He’d tried to speak to as many people as possible, even walking into some on purpose (do. not. ask). But no one said anything that could sound even a little bit like the thing he had on his lower right arm, in a squiggly writing - his soulmates writing. It’d taken several of Phil’s family members to figure out the letters, and it just made it all the more difficult that it was in a foreign language.

Phil was dead-set to try again tomorrow.

~~~

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He’d gotten a few ‘undskyld’s, but that was more or less it.

Now he was on the train to jytland, at 7:47 p.m., going through the pictures he’d taken of The Round Tower, Amalienborg Palace, a few birds, dogs, flowers, and people.

“Seem a little down, Phil? Didn’t find them today either?” Asked Camille, one of his friends, sounding like she felt rather sorry for him. Most of the people he knew, including her, had already found their soulmate, some were married, some not. Phil was the oldest person he himself knew who hadn’t found his soulmate yet. He was 22 for god’s sake. The most common age to find your soulmate was around 17. How long would he have to wait?

“Nah, I didn’t, unfortunately.” he answered. He got a few pats on the back with the people he sat with at that, but none of them really knew what to say, which was understandable.

“You’re gonna find them, promise.” said Mike, who was also Phil’s cousin’s soulmate. “Thanks man, anyway, did you guys get some good pics?” he asked.

“Yeah, I got one from the top of the Round Tower with a really nice view, also one of a dog with it’s owners sitting at a fountain. What about you guys?” said Mike, and so they continued talking until they had to get off the train.

~~~

First day of Aarhus? No luck. Phil was really fucking hoping that the second day was gonna be better (little did he know, it was).

~~~

Phil, Mike, Camille, Emma, and Damon were walking with each other along the Aarhus Canal, taking different pictures of it, buildings, cafés, dogs, people, and their ‘Baresso’ coffees. Phil had gotten an Ultimative Iceblend with mint, and it tasted like heaven. Camille and Emma had both bought a danish soda called Faxe Kondi, which tasted surprisingly well.

‘Holy-’ Phil couldn’t help himself, quickly putting his camera in front of his right eye and snapping a picture, when he saw the most breath-takingly beautiful boy he was to ever lay his eyes on. He had a brown fringe, sweeping to the left, sparkling brown eyes with little specks of golden and honey in them, and was smiling the brightest of smiles to some of his friends and, oh god, dimples as deep as Phil was in love. He was petting his dog, a black-spotted Grand Danois, and looking at some of his friends, laughing along with them. Well, until he wasn’t, and was suddenly looking at Phil, and oh shit, oh no, he fucking saw me taking a picture of him like some creep.

“Undskyld, men tog du lige et billede af mig?” he said, but of course, Phil didn’t understand shit.

“I-I’m sorry, say that again please? I’m british.” Phil explained with the slightest of embarrassed laughs.

The gorgeous boy looked down at his left arm, taking a couple of seconds before answering, with the most stunning smile ever; “Sorry, but did you just take a picture of me?”

And Phil burst out laughing, in relief, joy, happiness, so many different emotions.

“I- um, yes, yes I did actually.” He chuckled, more or less ignoring all the confused faces around them.

“Yeah? And not just of Bella here?” Pretty boy (also known as Phil’s soulmate, apparently, holy fuck) asked, scratching the big dog, that was more or less in his lap, behind the ear.

Phil chuckled. “Well, as charming as she is, that wasn’t the first thing on my mind.” He replied, smirking slightly at the now blushing boy, and if you asked Phil he’d probably refuse the slight tint on his own cheeks.

“Um, Dan? Hvem er din ven her?” asked a friend of the boy, Dan, as Phil had just discovered. Jesus, that’s a nice name. Is it short for something, maybe? What’s his last name? Phil thought to himself, and yes, he did feel a bit creepy to be honest, but he also knew that these were regular thoughts right after meeting your soulmate.

“Oh. det er- this is-” Dan giggled, not sure what to say since he didn’t kow his soulmate’ name yet, but kinda confused as to how his friends hadn’t caught on yet.

“I’m Phil Lester.” Phil said with a kind smile, reaching his hand out to Dan’ friends. Phil. Dan couldn’t help but let out a small, contented sigh, as his soulmate seemed to be the perfect person.

“Dan Howell.” Dan said at last and reached his hand out to Phil too.

“Howell? Isn’t that an english name?” Phil asked curiously, wanting to know as much about this boy as humanly possible.

“Well yeah, my great-great-grandpa was from Ireland and his son, my great-grandpa, got married to a danish woman who took his name, and so on.” Dan answered, quietly ushering Bella off of his lap so he could stand up before his legs fell asleep. He was about a head shorter than Phil, which was adorable, but would also be the cause of a great amount of neck pain in the future.

“Oh, you’re tall, no fair.” Dan whined and pouted, and Phil laughed, but was cut short by the voice of Camille. “Alright, not-so-wild guess, are you two soulmates?” she asked and when the two boys nodded to her, she couldn’t help but gasp along with Phil’s other friends and pull him into a hug, while some of Dan’ squealed a little and embraced him too, all laughing and congratulating.

“Alright, alright, but Dan how old are you?” asked Emma in a teasing tone. Phil snickered.

“Oh, I’m turning eighteen in June?” he told, not quite knowing why she wanted to know that, until she slapped Phil, exclaiming ‘old man!’. They all laughed at that, though Phil rolled his eyes and snickered again. “I’m twenty-two.” he explained.

Both Phil and Dan’ friends may have all lured off about fifteen minutes after that, but it’s not like the two really noticed. And Phil likes to tell himself that Dan didn’t notice the thirty-one pictures that were taken of him in the coffee shop they sat in for the next two hours, chatting and trying to teach Phil danish, though he probably did. And he probably noticed the twelve Phil took of him as they were walking and sitting beside the canal with Bella too.

~~~

Sadly, Phil couldn’t see Dan almost all friday because Dan still had school for a couple more weeks. That didn’t stop him from talking about him all the time, though. It was quite endearing, to be honest.

When Dan’ school day finally ended, at 1:55 because it was a short day, he and Phil met up right outside of the rather big - yet still much smaller than Phil’ old high school - building, they both smiled from ear to ear.

“Hey.” Dan said breathely.

“Hey.” Phil returned it in the same, slightly awe-struck, tone. “Don’t you guys have to wear uniforms?” he continued, noticing how Dan’ attire was a red-plaid sweatshirt, with the image of a dog and silhouette of a man in the center. Phil learned yesterday that Dan had quite an expensive taste.

“No, not here. When I was younger I always thought it would’ve been cool if we did, but I’m rather relieved now.” they laughed.

“Good. They’re horrific.” Dan laughed even louder at Phil’ words, and Phil could only say that he was proud of that.

“It’s sad that you’re leaving already. In two hours right?” asked the younger of the two, frowning deeply.

“Yeah. I was thinking if you maybe had the time, you could come say goodbye at the airport?” Phil said nervously, though he knew he had no reason to be. Dan smiled again, nodding.

“Yeah. We can exchange skype accounts, social media?” Dan proposed, and Phil nodded.

“Could we exchange a goodbye kiss?” said Phil, teasingly setting his hands on Dan’ waist, making the younger of the two giggle loudly.

“Sure.”

And so they did.

Wait, That’s Her?

Pairing: Scott Summers x Reader

Summary: Reader is a student at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, and her mutation is the control of plants and nature - She re-grows the tree that Scott destroys when he first arrives and from that moment on, he’s fixated on her. 

Warning: none !!

Word Count: 605 (sorry it’s so short - part 2 maybe?)

A/N: inspired by how Jean & Scott met.

Originally posted by claracivry

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