so it would be a whole lot of math and effort to get them perfect

Don’t Look Back (ACOTAR AU) - Part 14

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18Part 19

It was 6:30 am, according the clock on the bedside table and Feyre’s mouth felt like the Sahara desert.  Rhys was lying on his side next to her, his shirt completely unbuttoned and his jeans unzipped. Feyre tried not to think about how she was completely topless and bloody freezing. For now, her main priority was to relieve the desperate urge to pee.

She threw her clothes back on and went on her mission of finding a toilet before trying to find the hideous turtle neck that she found dry on the bath, smelling disgustingly of Tequila. She put it on anyway, fighting her heavy limbs and overwhelming nausea to return to the bedroom -passing the door that Rhys had pinned her against last night - which thankfully seemed to be the guest bedroom. She didn’t think Helion would let them live it down if he found out that they had…done things in his parents’ room.

Rhys was still fast off - my kids sleep like the dead, Ines had put it. Attempting to see whether Rhys was cold she put her hand to his chest and found that he was most definitely unnaturally warm. She tried to convince herself that checking his temperature was the reason for trailing her fingers softly down his chest and not because she simply wanted to touch him.

Rhys’ eyes started to flicker and she withdrew her hand quickly, but had to sit down because her stomach suddenly lurched in protest.

“My god, is this what dying feels like?” Rhys groaned, rolling over on his back and wincing at the movement.

It suddenly hit her in that moment, of the aftermath that was likely to ensue. She couldn’t believe she had given Rhysand Spera a drunken blowjob. She had kissed him in front of everyone. Everyone at the party would know why they went upstairs and didn’t come back down. The mortification overwhelmed her so quickly that she wanted to bury a hole that was 10 feet deep and just lie in it.

Rhys seemed to notice her embarrassment immediately as he sat up, zipping up his jeans awkwardly.


“Oh god gross, Velma and Fred got it on, this is some Scooby scandal.”

The pair whipped their heads to the door where Cassian was standing in the doorway looking rather drunk still. He wasn’t wearing a shirt or shoes, he had taken off his wig (replaced by Lucien’s pirate hat) and he was holding a broomstick. In the other hand he held a McDonalds bag.

Cassian then threw a box of chicken nuggets at them, “Here have some nuggs.”

Cassian’s feet then started moving towards the bed and he collapsed on it, face first, and Feyre winced as she heard the snapping of a broomstick. Their friend lifted his head up and realised he had also squished the brown paper bag.

“Fuck, not my nuggs.” He then proceeded to sit cross legged in front of them, delving in to his McDonalds bag and retrieving his squished chicken nuggets. Rhys caught her eye with a what the fuck look but she quickly looked away and she was suddenly grateful that Cassian had just barged in here in all his drunken glory. It meant that she didn’t have to face the flaming mortification that was running through her veins every time she looked at Rhys.

She had her mouth on his co-

“Are you alright Cass?” asked Rhys carefully. Cassian shook his head, his eyes were beginning to well up.

“I fucked up, man. I really fucked up.” He started sadly chewing on his misshapen food. She thought she might as well get settled if Cassian was going to pour secrets, so she brought her legs on the bed, crossing them like Cassian and eating her own chicken nuggets that he had thrown at them only a few seconds ago.

“I doubt you’ve done anything of the sort, brother,” said Rhys.

Cassian shook his head, “Nah, you don’t understand.” He then looked between Rhys and Feyre, his eyes wide. “Please tell me you wore a condom.”

Feyre felt like she must have resembled a strawberry and Rhys coughed awkwardly.

“…We were safe, Cass,” Rhys eventually said and Feyre was grateful that he didn’t say something like ‘nah man, didn’t go all the way, was just the stuff in between’.

“Thank god,” more tears dropped from Cassian’s eyes, “I love you guys, so much.”

Azriel was right, Cassian was the emotional drunk. Rhys looked to her to say, we need to get him home.

It was now a growing struggle to even make eye contact with Rhys and she hated herself for it. She wanted to go home, crawl into bed and dwell on her drunken decisions in misery by herself.

She couldn’t bear the thought of going to school Monday, the news of Feyre Archeron seen going up the stairs with Rhysand Spera  at the Halloween party that would probably make headline news considering that Rhys was Head Boy and was constantly in the lime light.

So, when Rhys told her that his mother would pick them up, Feyre declined his offer and called Nesta.


Nesta arrived in her dressing gown, a miserable scowl on her face.

“Do you know what time it is? It’s a damn Sunday,” she growled out as Feyre nearly fell into the passenger seat, standing up was an extreme effort when fighting dizziness, nausea, tiredness and regret.

“Sorry,” Feyre managed to mumble out, it was still quite dark out, dawn not having even broken yet, marking the start of November.

Eventually after a few minutes of listening to the positively energy inducing Sunday morning radio, Nesta said, “You got with a boy didn’t you?”

“What? How could you possibly tell?” Feyre spluttered.

“Because I know you more than you think. And you have a suspicious bruise on your neck.”

Feyre pulled at her turtle neck to find that Nesta was right. Damn it, Rhys.

“Rhys?” asked Nesta, and Feyre realised she actually verbalised her condemnation of Rhysand. “The kid who is head over heels in love with you?”

Feyre was far too hungover to even process the verity of that statement. “He’s not in love with me,” she mumbled, throwing her head back against the headrest, the motion of the car making the nausea grow worse with every turn.

Her older sister snorted, “Yeah and the sky isn’t blue.”

“It’s grey actually,” observed Feyre as she purposely opened her eyes to watch the oncoming storm.

Nesta turned a corner rather harshly making Feyre’s stomach lurch in protest.


“So, what did you do with him? Was it just an innocent make out, or did you go full out?” asked Nesta, a slight smile on her face. It was unfamiliar.

Her older sister had never asked about boys before. “Since when did you care about what I do with guys?” asked Feyre rather incredulously.

She shrugged, “It’s what sisters do, isn’t it? Talk about stupid things like boys.”

A drop of rain landed on the windscreen, and Feyre thanked the lord that it gave her the perfect excuse to stay in bed all day.

It felt strange to want to disclose things to her elder sister. The biggest secret that Feyre had told her sister was that the Tooth Fairy wasn’t actually real and Nesta had laughed herself hoarse at her 9 year old sister. Nesta had been a 13 year old witch then. But now, she wasn’t so bad.

“Not sex but…we did certain things.” Feyre thought she must have still been a little drunk.

Their house came into view, and Nesta pulled up with a sly smile. “Things, hm?” Her older sister made specific gestures in question and Feyre burst out laughing, indicating the ones that she most definitely did do last night with Rhys at the same time as covering her face that had no doubt grown exceptionally red.

Nesta brushed it off with wink before they both climbed out the car together.

It eased the embarrassment at least a little bit.


The halls buzzed with the usual petty gossip that bounced along the walls and floors to stretch throughout the entire school.

Every corner Rhysand turned he was faced with knowing looks from Seniors and he had to turn down a high five from a rugby player who told him, Feyre Archeron. Nice.

Well, it seemed everyone at the whole fucking party had seen him and Feyre escape upstairs.

Rhysand continued to do what he did best – pretending that everything was normal. Azriel walked beside him shooting menacing glares to anyone who gave him sly thumbs up. The football team including Tamlin were gathered at one corner, and it was almost eerie how they all ceased their conversations just to stand and watch them walk past with twisted grins on their faces. Only Tamlin’s mouth was set into a thin line.

If Cassian were here, he would probably propose a fist fight right there on the vinyl floors of the school halls but Cassian was at home, ill – hungover still, most probably, since he drank his body weight in alcohol. Ines wasn’t a pleased mother on Sunday and had expressed her anger by giving them plain pasta for dinner – completely plain, no sauce and not even salt.

He hadn’t spoken to Feyre since she told him she was getting Nesta to pick her up from Helion’s, and it kind of hurt him to see her avoid his gaze at every possible moment. It was quite obvious she was embarrassed. It wounded him even more so if she regretted it.

Because although Rhys regretted being drunk, he did not regret the things they did. A lot of it was hazy, but it was still imprinted on his mind and he had to get himself off last night just thinking about it. He hated himself for it, that now he had actually gained a physical memory to return to when he was sexually frustrated. He had been trying to get Feyre to text him back all day but to no avail.

The moment he saw her waiting in maths he let a sigh of relief. At least she wasn’t that embarrassed to even arrive at school. He wondered whether she had experienced the same morning as he had.

She was doodling aggressively on her pink tinted paper and her face was flushed – probably from the hushed whispers from the bastards in the class who were obviously talking about them.

He noted that she was wearing her Wonder Woman t-shirt.

Taking his seat, he cleared his throat, attempting to catch Feyre’s undivided attention on her aggressive doodling.

Someone whistled and Rhys observed Feyre turn in on herself even more.

Fuck this, he was Head Boy. He had the authority to shut these idiots up.

“Anyone who believes insolent gossip must have inherited such feeble mindedness. Do something with your boring lives and get a bloody hobby,” Rhys announced, his voice laced with an undertone of threat. He watched as people turned back around in their seats, obviously ashamed at being called out by him. He noticed one of the football players however remained turned towards them, and they sent Rhys a malicious grin before turning back to the front to await their teacher.

He felt Feyre exhale shakily beside him.

“Feyre,” he said lowly. She remained staring at her pad, her doodle were in fact just harsh scribbles, like she was colouring her pink paper in black. “Please talk to me.”

Her voice was completely flat as she said, “Did you know I’ve been called a slut three times and a whore twice? And it’s only first period.”

Rhys’ blood boiled at the inequality of it all. Where Rhys was met with high fives, Feyre was ridiculed.

“Tell me who they are and I will report them to the board,” he assured, trying to offer her some justice.

She let out a little laugh, finally turning to look at him. Her eyes were empty and it pained him to see it. “It doesn’t matter. The thing is, it’s not even about what happened Saturday. Tamlin has started a rumour that I’ve slept with basically the entire football team, Lucien and now he’s claimed that I’m starting on you and that I probably will get on Cassian next. Or was it Azriel? I can’t remember,” she threw her hands up mock question. She leaned closer, “The thing is, you’re the third guy I’ve ever been with. Who I’ve ever even kissed.”

Tamlin must be truly hung over Feyre to start spreading such foul rumours. Rhys resisted every urge in his body to walk out of that door and wring his neck between his hands. Alas, Rhys must always resort to non-violent ways to ruin someones life. Thanks mum.

Feyre put her head in her hands. “I’m so stupid. This is my entire fault.”

A pang of guilt rang through him sharply.

“Feyre, no. None of this is your fault-“

Rhysand,” said Mr Johnson sharply. And Rhys was obliged to shut his mouth as he watched Feyre return to her colouring. The left side of her hand was being coated with lead but she continued to draw, sometimes making quick sketches of what seemed to be members of the football team to then be stabbed with doodle knives.

He was desperate to talk to her. Tell her that he was glad they did what they did. But then he realised how selfish that sounded because surely drunken handjobs and blowjobs meant nothing to Feyre, especially when they have costed her this - while he was able to keep his reputation because he was a fucking male. 

The pain was exceptional as Mr Johnson handed out an infernal test, first period Monday morning, eradicating any further chance to talk to Feyre when given tasks.

Today was going to be a long day.


Mor had somehow decided to persuade Feyre to eat with them in the canteen at lunch. Mor’s exact words being, if you let them get to you, they’re winning. Never let the unworthy win.

Wise words, but easier said than done when Feyre entered the canteen with the familiar looks from the typical mean girls and the typical boys who were now eyeing her up like she was going to throw herself at them next.

Today was an exceptionally bad day, each lesson, certain people would go out of their way to play upon the rumour that Tamlin had somehow spread like wildfire. Apparently, Feyre was not only fucking Rhys, Lucien and some Jake guy that she didn’t even know until today when she was going out with Tamlin, but she was also trying to get on Bron when he was still with his girlfriend.

Their thoughts meant nothing to her, but it was the attention that made her want to curl up on the floor and rock.

Feyre had made her school career out of staying in the background and now, she was in the limelight and it was hitting her at full force.

There were some looks of sympathy, but those were the looks that she couldn’t stand at all. She didn’t need fucking pity. She needed peace and some black out curtains.

The dream team minus hungover Cassian were sat eating as normal and Feyre swallowed at the sight of Rhys.

Mor and Feyre sat, pulling out their packed lunches. Nesta had actually made her a poorly constructed tuna sandwich, but she ate it all the same.

It was a quieter lunch time, the tension between Feyre and Rhys was pretty evident amongst the table, though Mor and Azriel did make conversation between them, with Amren piping up from her texting with Varian every once in a while.

At one moment, Feyre made eye contact with Rhys and the question behind his eyes were perfectly clear, please can we talk. She nodded reluctantly, and they both made a move to stand from their chairs. 

It was like the entire canteen was put on mute as they walked out together, Feyre did her best to copy Rhys in how he walked, with his head up and the casual air of not giving a fuck. But it was difficult to maintain as they exited and she slumped back over in relief, returning to her natural tortoise state of withdrawing in her shell. 

Her mouth was about to open but Rhys took her by the arm and pulled her away and into an empty classroom – away from prying ears.

The air between them was fraught with tension - an even greater amount since they were alone - and Rhys sat at one of the desks while Feyre decided to remain standing and pace instead. This was all her fault, and she berated herself for her drunken mistakes for what seemed to be the millionth time that day.

“I should have never kissed you,” Feyre blurted out. “I’m sorry.”

Rhys looked instantly hurt, and he didn’t make any effort to cover it. “Right, okay,” he croaked out.

Oh no, now she had just probably insulted his ego. “It’s just that, if I hadn’t kissed you, or dragged you upstairs then I wouldn’t be treated by shit by half of senior year. It was a mistake to kiss you. I was drunk and stupid.”

The words only seemed to wound him more as his face became solemn and dejected. Feyre was angry at herself for being so insensitive and angry at him for no apparent reason other than the fact that he was completely unharmed by the aftermath of what they did. It was a vicious circle of unnecessary anger that wouldn’t even be churning in her if it wasn’t for Tamlin’s rumours spreading like the damn plague.

He swallowed thickly before saying, “So, everything we did. None of it meant anything? When you kissed me it was because you were drunk and nothing else?”

Feyre was choking on her own words. It was one thing to admit that you like someone when you’re absolutely pissed and go kiss them, but it was another when you were sober. When you were staring that someone right in the face.

“I think so, yes,” she lied. She didn’t know why. Feyre hadn’t had much practise in the arts of admitting that she liked someone.

He stood up, “Well I think you’re lying.” He was looking at her with so much intensity in that moment like he was willing the words out for her. It infuriated her slightly that he thought that he knew her so well. Fuck, Feyre didn’t really understand herself that much.

“What do you want from me, Rhys? Do you want me to stand here and give you a full fucking signed admission?”

He seemed to splutter on his words, “Yes! That’s exactly what I want from you!”

“Fine,” she spat, “I admit that I’m not like you Rhys. I admit that I can’t just brush off vile rumours as easily as you can. I admit that I really enjoyed what we did Saturday but I’m struggling to even look at you because I’m embarrassed. I’m embarrassed that everyone knows. And I’m angry that Tamlin has twisted something like this into something shitty against me. So now everyone thinks I’m a slut because apparently I’ve been fucking three guys at once. Alright?”

Feyre closed her eyes. She expected today to be awkward, as they had crossed a line that most definitely surpassed any level of platonic relationship. She hadn’t expected to come to school being depicted as the new High School whore, courtesy of her bastard ex-boyfriend and his vile yuppies.

She felt him move closer, and a tentative hand reached out to take her own hand. She opened her eyes. Feyre wanted to trace the frown on his face with her finger and draw on a smile instead.

“They won’t get away with this, Feyre,” he said firmly. “They shouldn’t be allowed to treat anyone like this. But please. Please don’t let them win, they are unworthy winners.”

“That’s exactly what Mor told me.”

“It’s one of my mums sayings,” he said with a small smile. He is so, so beautiful.

He swallowed, playing with her fingers. She watched as he traced his thumb over her knuckles.

“I’m glad we did what we did Saturday. I’ll admit that I wish we weren’t drunk, but I wanted you. I wanted you then and I-“

The door to the classroom opened, to find a group of people that Feyre most definitely did not want to see. Rhys and Feyre’s hands slipped apart.

“I don’t think Mr Weaver’s classroom is an appropriate place to fuck now is it,” said Bron with an infuriating grin. He was followed by six members of the football team, including Tamlin.

“Aren’t you supposed to be doing something right now?” retorted Rhys, “I don’t know, maybe mindlessly kicking a ball around for 90 minutes?”

Where Feyre had began to freeze up in the presence of so many boys who went out of their way in telling her keep your legs open Feyre, we want a go as she passed them in the hallway at break, Rhys stood with his usual mask of cocky Head Boy swarm. His hands were neatly in his pockets of his black jeans, his head was cocked in arrogance. Instead of inching behind him, however, she stood at his side and attempted to put her greatest face of indifference.

The searing gaze of Tamlin was burning into her skin. Instead of ignoring him this time, she had somehow mustered the confidence to look back. And she held his gaze with such vehemence behind her eyes that he imperceptibly flinched. That was a win.

The team filtered in through the classroom, casually brushing their hands across desks. One of them closed the door, the soft click permeated through the room.

“Are you big boys going to try and beat me up now?” asked Rhys, he looked at his watch, “We only have 10 minutes to the bell, might as well make it quick.”

The football team sniggered, whereas Tamlin stood stoic by the door, not sharing some of the sadistic smiles of the others.

“Go on, Tamlin,” said Hart, “He’s basically given you an open invitation.”

Feyre’s heart was basically in her mouth when Tamlin stepped forward towards them. So she willed her legs to move in front of Rhys, facing down her ex-boyfriend as he stood just over a metre away. She would not let Rhys become a part of this.

She decided to aim for the heart and take a good stab. “What do you think your mum would say about this?” she spat out and Tamlin’s eyes flashed in hurt. Good. “She would think how pathetic you are. I don’t understand why you think it’s acceptable to spread bullshit about me. If I had known that you would have been like this then I would have never agreed to be your girlfriend.” She huffed a laugh, “And now, you want to beat up Rhys? In an attempt to assert your ugly masculinity in front of your douchebag friends? If you’re going to throw a fist Tamlin, hit me. I’m the one who cheated on you after all, right? With Lucien, Rhys and that Hybern guy whose name I only learned today.”

She did not understand how she was able to step forward, her body inches from Tamlin’s. Perhaps it was the searing heat running through her veins that did often have the capability to give her such confidence.

Move on, Tamlin. Call me a slut and a whore. But you of all people know that isn’t the truth. And you know how much your mother hated liars.”

She stepped back, and the usual anger that would emerge from Tamlin when she fought back wasn’t there. Indeed, Tamlin’s body was tense and his lips were set into a thin line, but it looked as if he were keeping himself in check.

“Let’s go,” Tamlin eventually said, indicating for his friends to leave.

But no one moved. 

“What the fuck man, you said you wanted Spera on the floor?” growled out Hart.

“Is that with physical or sexual intent? I can never tell,” purred Rhys with an infuriating smirk. He actually winked at Hart. 

Hart stepped forward past the desk he was standing behind, coming into the clearing of the classroom only a few short steps from where Feyre and Rhys stood. His fist was clenched.

“I ain’t a damn homo like you or your fucked up family,” Hart grounded out.

“You say such enlightening things,” said Rhys and Feyre touched his arm in warning but he continued. You idiot Rhys, you damn idiot. “Tell me, Hart, do you say that before or after you’re done sucking Bron’s cock for him?”

It was instant. The fist that went flying through the air was enough to make time stand still.

Feyre braced herself, her breath stuck in her throat as she attempt to push Rhys out the way but Hart’s fist was already caught within Rhys’ own.

“Everyone saw that was self-defence, right?” said Rhys as he yanked Hart’s arm so hard that he went flying past them into the teachers desk. Feyre had never seen him move like that, it was so perfectly executed like he already had practiced such moves before.

The next few seconds could only be described as shock, as each football player looked to each other in silent question.

She felt a hand pull on her arm away from Rhys as the silent whistle blew, and half of Prythian High School’s football team charged at him.

It was something like a movie scene, but not the kind of scene where a badass hero would be kicking down all of its opponents in the blink of an eye. No, this was the kind of scene from a Stephen King novel where the bullies were beating the shit out of its victim.

Rhysand wasn’t fighting back. He let Bron’s fist connect with his face and he didn’t move away when he saw another fist go into his ribs. The sound of fist meeting flesh was sickening and Feyre screamed in protest.

Two hands were holding her arms in a death grip and she kicked and swore, she needed to stop this. Tamlin’s unmistakeable voice rang through her head, “Don’t get yourself involved.”

The classroom door burst open and Feyre thanked all things that had ever existed as Mr Weaver stormed in, students gathering outside the classroom. Tamlin had let her go to help Mr Weaver break it apart, seizing arms back and pushing them away.

Rhys was sitting on the floor, propped up against the teachers desk, blood pouring from his nose like a crimson river.

Feyre was suddenly beside him, pulling his face towards her urgently to inspect the damage. His cheek bone was undoubtedly going to bruise, and his jaw was left with similar marks. Blood was pouring over his mouth and down his chin, Feyre scrambling for tissues to stop it.

Her hand was shaking as she pressed the tissues to his nose. A twisted smirk began to emerge on his face and Feyre almost punched him herself.

“You’re a stupid prick,” she snapped out. “Why didn’t you fight back?” People were being dragged out of the room behind her, the shouts of teachers rang through the hallways.

“Your freckles are adorable, especially up close,” he said, his voice ragged.

“Answer my fucking question.”

The tissues were being coated in scarlet and Feyre had nothing else to offer to stop the wretched bleeding. She resorted to tearing a bit of her Wonder Woman t-shirt, pressing the white fabric to his nose. Where in the Cauldron were the teachers?

“I told you they wouldn’t get away with what they’ve started, Feyre. They will have suspension or expulsion on the cards for them right now. Violence is not tolerated in any form in Prythian high,” he murmured with a devilish smile, voicing one of their head teachers most used phrases, although he winced from the pain of doing so.

Feyre was torn between giving him a smack around the head and kissing him, because Rhys had just gotten himself beaten up to basically ruin the lives and careers of half of the football team.

“You’re still a stupid prick, Rhysand.”

“I know.”

oooooooooh kay so this was rushed. i so wanted to get something out for you guys. I hope you enjoyed all the same.

OKAY im completely free of schedule tomorrow!! so writing time! and imma make sure the last few parts are of 103029302/10 quality for u all including a lot more smut and sadness and anger and all that good stuff

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Riverdale Imagine: Music Notes, Pie, and Archie Andrews (Archie x reader)

Anonymous: Hello darling! I was just wondering – turn it down if you wanna – if you could do a Archie and a really shy reader. When it comes to like PDA or she’s just really really shy and she gets nervous/panics when she meets new people or speak in front of the class and he try to help her out of the shell by meeting his friends and encourages her to speak up.

Summary: The reader meets Archie over the summer as she has just moved to Riverdale and happens to be next door to him. He hears her playing guitar and, despite her shyness, insists that she needs to help him with his songs. By the end of the summer they are dating but as school approaches, the reader is nervous to meet his friends.

Approx. 1455 words

It all started over the summer. It was a boiling hot day and Mum had insisted I spent the day outside, even if that just meant in our garden. I’d given up on sunbathing hours before and was now curled up in the shade of the old oak tree with my guitar. Pages of sheet-music fanned out around me like a blanket, weighed down with tiny pebbles to prevent them from fluttering away in the light breeze.  I was completely engrossed in my music, unaware of everyone and everything, pausing at intervals to record music-notes and lyrics, when I heard an unfamiliar voice call from somewhere behind me.

“You’re going to have to help me with my music sometime, your playing is amazing!”

I jumped and spun around in shock, my gaze greeted by the confident smirk of an auburn-haired teenage boy. A teenage boy who was sitting on my garden fence, sweaty and shirtless. I swallowed hard as I felt my blood rush to my face, feeling the rouge of hot embarrassment spread over my cheeks as I desperately struggled to think of a response. This, it would seem, was the attractive young neighbour that my Mum had been trying to make me talk to all summer with little success. I cringed as I remembered how I had hid in my room the day we had moved in when him and his dad had come to introduce themselves. Even as child I had been unusually shy, still clinging onto my parents long after everyone else had stopped and as a result I struggled to make friends. My parents’ divorce and the recent move to Riverdale hadn’t helped matters, and I was secretly hoping to spend my last two years at school largely unnoticed. Unfortunately for me though, a new girl in a small town never goes unnoticed.

“I’m sorry” he laughed, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was only trying to get a look at the mystery girl from next door.” He winked at me and jumped off the wall and into my garden, his toned stomach flexing at the effort. “It’s Y/N right?” I nodded shyly, “I’m Archie Andrews.”

“Hi…” I mumbled pathetically as I began fumbling with my sheet music, making it into a messy pile in an attempt to hide it from Archie’s amused gaze.

“How long have you been playing guitar?” He asked innocently as he gestured towards where my instrument was lying on the grass. I smiled as I picked it up and stroked the polished wood.

“I think the real question is when am I not playing. Guitar, piano, drums… I’ll play anything. It drives my mum nuts. I guess that’s why I’m an only child.” I joked. After a momentary pause, Archie roared with laughter and I smiled back nervously.

“I like you Y/N, you’re cool.” He beamed at me. “I heard you playing earlier and, I’m being totally honest, you’re pretty fucking good.” I blushed again and tucked my hair behind my ears in an attempt to hide my embarrassment, how long had he been listening? “So…” he continued, “I was wondering if you would come over to mine for a couple of hours and go through my music with me, I could really use your expertise.” He pleaded.

I was about to decline and was in the middle of finding a believable excuse when I glanced up and looked into his hopeful face. I smiled and rolled my eyes as I slung my guitar over my shoulder and gathered up my sheet music.

“What’s in it for me Andrews?” I asked with mock seriousness.

“Well Y/N, you get to stare at my beautiful face for two whole hours!” He laughed at my skeptical expression. He tried again. “We have apple pie?”  

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your faves are problematic: the vancouver crew edition


  • regularly beatboxes ‘drop it like it’s hot’ by snoop dogg in its entirety even though he would be perfectly capable at doing other songs
  • got a job at the local ice cream shop just to be able to ‘sample’ every single flavor every single day but somehow hasn’t gained any weight
  • still counts on his fingers for simple everyday math problems
  • owns more pairs of shoes than most people do t-shirts and has an entire cubby shelf storage system in his closet for them
  • is naturally talented at cooking but is usually too lazy to actually make the effort and mostly depends on top ramen and dried fruit from trader joe’s for his nutrition


  • has eaten a whole pizza by himself on more than one occasion, and not just cheese, either - he prefers either loaded supreme or meat-lovers
  • kills every plant he has ever attempted to own, including several different species of succulents and cacti
  • quotes and references outdated memes that only he remembers
  • couldn’t decide which teenage mutant ninja turtle to name his pet tortoise after so he combined them all and named it leoraphdonangelo (which cheng2 thinks sounds like a species of dinosaur)
  • won the spelling bee five years in a row in middle school and has impeccable grammar yet types his text messages and blog posts like a shitty dumb frat boy on tindr looking for a hookup


  • inherited a huge collection of vinyl records from his older brother and owns a record player but primarily listens to spotify through his awful laptop speakers
  • buys his hard-to-find specialized hair products online even though the shipping costs are ridiculous
  • refuses to get snapchat because it’s ‘stupid and pointless’ but often sabotages cheng2′s dog filter and flower crown selfies
  • has perfect eyesight but wears glasses anyway purely for the aesthetic
  • took up guitar in seventh grade and is a natural, learned classical and jazz techniques but insists on playing mainly post-punk acoustic jams (with whiny vocals happily provided by lee-squared)


  • only ever joined the aglionby soccer team because he thought the goalie was cute (and just happened to actually be pretty okay at soccer)
  • still wears heelie sneakers out in public
  • is afraid of piranhas to the point of having nightmares about them even though he has never been in any waters where they are naturally found
  • exclusively drinks super fruity cocktails (mainly tequila sunrises and malibu bay breezes) even though they give him terrible hangovers; often vows to ‘never drink again’ but never holds to it
  • plans and budgets entire trips to europe and asia almost monthly but closes every tab without actually buying any tickets or booking hotels because he hates flying and is waiting for teleportation to be invented

henry broadway/cheng2

  • prefers eggo waffles over ryang’s homemade belgian waffles and eats them straight out of the box (still frozen). also does this with frozen blueberries and then complains when he gets brain freeze
  • regularly gets too stoned to do his homework and has to copy off of henry cheng’s in the mornings before class
  • has read the whole harry potter book series seven times and has watched all of the films even more than that and still cries every time dumbledore dies
  • names 99.9% of his possessions even though he usually forgets what he names them and then has to rename them
  • has spent a shocking amount of time on his playstation4 building an incredibly accurate minecraft replica of the litchfield house


  • is very academically gifted but puts in minimal effort whenever he can and often scrolls through reddit instead of paying attention in class
  • joined the aglionby lacrosse team on a dare from ryang even though he’d never played lacrosse in his entire life (he was terrible)
  • learned american sign language with his younger brother just so the two of them could complain about their parents’ strict rules without their parents knowing
  • has seen every true crime documentary on netflix at least once
  • can’t tolerate spicy food at all. at ALL. he thinks uncooked and unseasoned green bell peppers are spicy
hogwarts!au namjoon
  • the sorting hat put him in ravenclaw almost instantly
  • he’s a 21-year-old fourth year (again, this is more like a hogwarts university)
  • namjoon is muggleborn and he’s extremely knowledgeable about both the wizarding world and the muggle world bc he loves learning
  • his favorite classes are definitely astronomy and arithmancy
  • astronomy because he’s obsessed with astrophysics and is super fascinated by the ways the muggle and wizarding astral theories interconnect
  • and arithmancy bc he’s really good with numbers and he finds it so much more interesting than muggle math classes like calculus
  • such an excellent student, he’s always taking every opportunity to do independent research. sometimes his professors will even come to him asking for help with a project they are working on, he loves it
  • his wand is hawthorn wood with a dragon heartstring core, and it measures 12 and ¾ inches. it’s an extremely complex wand, just like its owner, and almost seems to have a mind of its own–namjoon’s wand refuses to perform for anyone other than him.
  • his pet is a gorgeous great horned owl. he’s had it since he was a first year and admires it a lot, even if it’s just as clumsy as namjoon himself (they say that pets take on their owners’ characteristics, after all)
  • they almost banned namjoon from playing quidditch because he’s a walking bundle of accidents waiting to happen. he was a chaser his first year and he sucked
  • but then they moved him to a beater position and found out that he was really good at hitting things at other people so he was allowed to stay on the team
  • his patronus is a fox. like jungkook, namjoon was the first in his year to be able to produce a patronus. he loves his little patronus fox and will sometimes summon it in the middle of the night if he’s feeling lonely
  • namjoon came to hogwarts on a scholarship and it soon became very clear that he needed to be placed in an advanced course track
  • by his second year he was taking electives intended for students in their third year or above, and by his fourth year he began taking sixth-year elective courses
  • he was mainly friends with other ravenclaws in his first year so he didn’t meet the bts boys until second year
  • he was playing a quidditch game against gryffindor, and he hit the bludger a bit too hard towards the gryffindor keeper and he shouted like “heY DUDE WATCH OUT” but to no avail
  • so this bludger cracks into the keeper’s jaw and namjoon is like oh shit bc
  • oh shit did he just knock a bludger into the face of Gryffindor Prefect Prince Kim Seokjin™
  • when the game is over, namjoon has to actually physically run for his life from Gryffindor Prefect Prince Kim Seokjin™’s fanclub and they’re all screaming about how namjoon has ruined jin’s perfect face and how namjoon will pay
  • finally he makes it to the hospital wing to visit seokjin and apologize. and he walks in and sees two boys standing on either side of seokjin’s bed: one of them is a tall, lean hufflepuff boy, and the other is a much smaller blonde slytherin 
  • and at first namjoon is like ‘this is it this is how i die because that slytherin looks capable of murder’
  • so he walks up really shyly and he’s like “hey um i’m namjoon and i’m really sorry i broke your face with a bludger”
  • and this slytherin just starts cackling h y s t e r i c a l l y 
  • and eventually when he stops laughing he’s like “i’m min yoongi, and i wanted to sincerely thank you for clocking jin in the face because it’s about time someone did it”
  • and that’s how namjoon met hoseok, yoongi, and seokjin, and the coolest squad in the whole school was formed
  • namjoon’s animagus is a great horned owl, just like his pet. he always goes outside and flies around when he gets stressed
  • sometimes jungkook will turn into a raven and join namjoon and they just fly around the grounds together and it’s rly nice
  • yoongi and hoseok and namjoon bond over their mutual love for hip hop music. they both think that music from the wizarding community just isn’t on the level of muggle music quite yet. namjoon takes hoseok and yoongi to their first drake concert and that’s the only time namjoon has ever seen yoongi cry
  • after jin’s face heals back to its usual perfection, namjoon insists on taking jin out for butterbeer as an apology. it’s entirely platonic, but soon enough rumors get spread and namjoon still isn’t sure why everyone in the school calls them ‘mom and dad’ 
  • namjoon is always seen tutoring hoseok or jimin or jungkook or taehyung in the library, but ‘tutoring’ actually consists more of gossiping and stifling laughter so they always get kicked out
  • when namjoon figured out that taehyung was a werewolf, he kept the secret until taehyung was ready to tell the others. he would always brew taehyung a wolfsbane potion and help give tae instructions on tibetan meditation techniques and it helped so much
  • sometimes, when namjoon is sitting in the library, jimin will come to him and just sit. namjoon knows that nothing needs to be said, because jimin is really an introvert and really gets tired of always talking all the time. so namjoon just sits in comfortable silence with jimin until dinnertime
  • namjoon is just so intelligent and impressive and always looks after the people around him, and all of his teachers know that he’s going to go on and do incredible things with his life 
  • and he does–namjoon travels all around the world, picking up different kinds of philosophy and scientific theory. he’s widely renowned in the wizarding world for his efforts to combine muggle science with wizarding magic, to explain how the world works
  • when he gets older he basically invents the field of scientific magic. he’s in a lot of textbooks.
  • in conclusion, kim namjoon is an incredible student and an even better friend, and he loves magic a lot

jungkook ver. / taehyung ver. / jimin ver. / namjoon ver. / hoseok ver. / yoongi ver. / jin ver.

[ next series – avatar: the last airbender!au ]

Never Forget You

Requested: Anon

Summary: Tom and Artist!Reader are dating and when Tom’s career took off they break it off mutually but still have feelings for each other.

A/N: School has officially started with excessive amounts of homework and I started reading IT so updates will be slow.

Words: 2,000+

Originally posted by tom-hollcnd

For Y/N, being in an arts school was like a dream come true. She didn’t come from a wealthy family so, going to a private school that specialized in the arts was never an option. It was never an option until she applied for an art scholarship. She sent in her drawings with the hope that she’d get in but, she knew not to get her hopes up. When the letter came that she got a full scholarship, it was like she was walking on air until her first day.

First days are always full of anxiety and doubt and as Y/N walked up the front of the steps of the school that’s exactly how she felt. She was beyond excited for all of her classes but, one thought kept running through her head. What if I’m not good enough? She knew it was a ridiculous question because if she wasn’t good enough she wouldn’t be standing in front of the school on her first day. This knowledge, however, did not rid of her insecurities

The day started with getting to know you activities for the ninth graders. This was where she met the most handsome boy she’d seen in her life. His name was Tom and he was specializing in dancing and acting. He was unusually witty and when he laughed he ducked his head down between his shoulders and smiled so big Y/N couldn’t help but smile too. 

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[request] i was about to hug you (but i didn’t)

AUTHOR: ongniels (ali)
PAIRING: Park Jihoon/Lai Guanlin
WARNING: cursing
SUMMARY:   He knows he should have come to terms with the fact that he actually likes Guanlin the way he does - but it just doesn’t add up to him why he had to know about it now, when Guanlin was hundreds of miles away.

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cant-we-just-dance  asked:

11 Jamilton, please. Thank you for using my prompt meme, it took a lot of effort and I'm glad that someone likes it.

No problem and thanks for posting! <3

“ 11. Growing up together and sending paper airplanes to the other person’s window each night “

The first time it happened, Alex was talking too loud again. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t at least partially because of his asshole of a neighbour, Thomas, was trying to do homework.

Alex really hated that guy. Right from the first day he moved in with the Washingtons and went to greet the “just a little older than you and a little shy, but I’m sure you’d get along” kid next door. He’d had his hopes of friendship rebutted with a wrinkled nose at Alex’s missing baby tooth and the dirt under his fingernails; replaced with an eternal rivalry with a haughty sniff and a slammed door in Alex’s face.

By some unfortunate arrangement, their bedrooms, both on their houses respective second floors, faced each other. Only a few meters of open air separated one window from another. Alex wasted no time getting into the habit of always peeking at Thomas’ room before doing anything else. Which was why Thomas scratching a pencil against his head and pulling at his own bushy hair while huddled over the day’s homework was the perfect time to make a phone call. It was an even more perfect time to make a phone call to his friend Hercules to ask him if he needed any help with today’s work, because the math was just so easy and obvious to him, and wouldn’t it be a shame if someone was left having trouble with it?

Alex should have expected some kind of retaliation. In fact, he did expect one, just not so soon. Nor did he expect it in the form of a perfectly crafted paper airplane bouncing off the floor of his room with a sudden smack that made him jump.

Alex hastily hung up. He glared out his window at the only possible perpetrator. Thomas was out of sight from his vantage point. Either he’d run off or hidden after throwing the plane, and either way, Alex wasn’t impressed.

He snatched the paper plane, fully intending to send it flying straight back where it came. He’d teach that asshole Thomas not to throw trash through his window. But, hidden under the fold of lined school paper was a thick line. If there was one thing Alex was weak to, it was curiosity. Well, that and proving himself and/or others wrong, if Alex was being honest. He unfolded the plane. In giant letters that took up the whole page were two words.

“Shut Up!”

Alex wrinkled his nose. He’d shut up, alright- and give Thomas a taste of his own medicine. Alex reached into his school binder for a blank paper.

After that day, the floodgates Alex hadn’t even known about were opened. Naturally, Thomas could never leave well enough alone and had to send a paper plane back the next day. Alex had no choice but to respond.

It started with base insults. The kinds of things Alex would shout to Thomas any day, or even through the window. But Thomas always shut it closed when that happened. The paper planes, however, were always read, and always returned, even if not right away. It was a form of power Alex didn’t always have in verbal conversations.

“nice job arguing with the teacher today, idiot”

“nice job being a teachers pet”

Slowly, over the months and without Alex even realizing, the insults morphed into actual advice. There was so much space, and Alex loved writing as much as he loved proving himself. Thomas wasn’t far behind, despite his superior attitude.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know the answer to today’s history question. Read the handouts, maybe.”

“You act like large multiplication is impossible. It’s just like single digit, but longer.”

“How did it feel coming in second to Aaron in the spelling bee? Acquaintance is spelled with an ‘a’, not an 'e’.”

Nothing changed on the surface, the paper planes like their own little world. Alex sent and received them daily; for months, then into the next year, and then into the next.

“Son, can I speak with you for a moment?” George asked one day, trying to hide a smile behind his hand.

Alex shot his adoptive father a suspicious look. “Okay.”

“Alright, son, I just want you to know that Martha and I both support and love you, okay? No matter who you have a crush on.”

Alex jumped at the words, his mind somehow flashing to a bushy head of hair and sharp, biting, intelligent words. “Wh-what are you talking about!? I don’t have a crush!”

George’s smile widened. He looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Of course, son. Though, you might want to work on your aim. Those paper planes that miss do have to land somewhere, and your mother and I have gotten tired of plucking them out of the side-yard hedges.

Alex flushed cherry red. George clapped him on the back-shoulder and walked away with a laugh.

The thing was, Alex hadn’t considered the idea at all. Thomas was… Thomas. An infuriating know-it-all who lived to argue with him. But he wasn’t just that anymore, not since there paper plane letters had turned to actual venting and support. Thomas shit talked Mr. Lee when he gave Alex detention over nothing. Alex shit talked Mr. Adams when he lost his temper and swore at Thomas in front of the whole school.

A plane skidded across Alex’s floor, and he jumped from his thoughts. It was just an innocent piece of paper. An innocent piece of paper that represented years of exchanges with someone who was a mortal enemy, a kind-of friend, and now, apparently, a crush. Alex unfolded the paper.

“I’m bored, entertain me! >:^(“

Alex snorted loudly, glancing out the window. Thomas stared back, raising a brow pointedly. He’d come a long way from hiding every time he sent a letter. Alex considered what to say, and then got out his pencil.

“Let’s go see a movie, then. Lego Batman is still showing at 6”

Alex liked to take chances with things he wanted, because most of the time, that was the only way Alex could even get what he wanted. This was no different. He sneaked a quick peek- Thomas was staring at the open paper and his ears were red. Alex grinned.

This was uncharted territory, but Alex was used to uncharted territory. He could manage one date.

Ascendance of a Bookworm – 048

Maine Collapses

It’s been three days since Lutz’s older brothers promised to make hairpin parts for me. Today is the day I go to pick them up.

During those three days, I didn’t leave the house at all, spending my hours working on making tiny little flowers. Since the devouring fever has been very active lately, roiling about in my body, I’ve not been feeling particularly good, so I haven’t really wanted to go outside at all. I’ve even been attacked by the fever in the middle of the night, leaving me exhausted and sluggish the next morning. Honestly, since I have no idea when or where the devouring is going to strike next, I’m feeling kind of uneasy about how I could collapse at any time.

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anonymous asked:

Hi Melly, liam got signed as a solo artist and I could not be more happy. And it looks like this is for real and his team is might actually be good! I mean it couldn't have happened to a better person... if anyone deserves it, it's liam. But It's also makes me wonder about zayn's situation, many of us speculated that zayn's solo career was part of the old team's exit sabotage. But could it just be that zayn choose a shitty team? I know zayn is smarter than that but i can't help but wonder.


Because I know u a Liam Stan imma be straight up with you. I’m happy for Liam. As a Zayn Stan I’ve always had a soft spot for Liam and think he deserves the best I mean that boy carries the world on his shoulders. What frustrates me about the whole solo ordeal is that Zayn’s team have been nothing but ABSOLOUTE shit while Liam’s team seem to be doing better work in an hour. I want them both to have good teams. I don’t understand why Zayn got lumbered with the ahit team ? No shade to Liam btw.


so we all know that zany’s management is fucking so much shit up for zayn but i want to know why??? Like WHY is zayn’s management being shit when it comes to him?


 I’ve talked about Zayn’s team and his solo career a lot (a realllyyyyyy lot) on this blog over the past seven months or so. I like to call it being “Old Man Yelling At Cloud”.

 I’ve always believed, and I still believe, that FAE is really a decoy for 1DHQ, which is why everything in relation to Zayn’s solo career is cloak and daggers shady. The extremely smooth and extremely less fucky rollout of Liam’s solo announcement yesterday in comparison put the spotlight on Zayn’s fucky solo career even more.

 With that said,  I’ll put on my  Hoevestigator hat to lay out what I think is happening with Zayn’s team for you. You should know in advance that I talk a lot. I am very sorry in advance. 

Part 1: Why Zayn’s Team Appears to be so Catastrophically Shit: A Melly Manifesto

An excerpt from an ask I answered (I’m lazy, what can I say), highlights some of the reasons for why I think FAE is a decoy:

1) Listen, no team, Sarah Stennett included, is as intentionally shit as Zayn’s is. Zayn is the living embodiment of the 1D business model (merch & brand partnerships at the forefront, music very much secondary), right down to the marketed image - he’s just been given an upgraded wardrobe:

Between the constant (and intentional) social media fuckups, off-putting Cool Mom Zayn image,  critical lack of promo, an incredibly skewed deal between his team and Gigith’s, and horrendous client negligence about Zayn’s alleged anxiety and the repeated cancellations, any other team would have been fired by now.

Which brings me to my next point:

2)  No artists’ team is ever this visible. An important thing to remember with the entertainment industry is that 9 times out of 10, if you’re seeing something, it’s because you’re supposed to be. The constant and heavy presence of Ned, Sarah Stennett, and Zayn’s rented FAE friends is meant to legitimize the presence of FAE.

Ned was purposely and heavily pushed to the fandom up until the karaoke video disaster in May, and positioned as an A&R/Manager/SMM/Your Mom. Spoiler alert, that’s not how a management team is supposed to work. An A&R Rep is not a manager, and your manager and/or A&R rep isn’t with you day to day, traveling with you like a high level babysitter.

Sarah Stennett was positioned heavily in the press as “Zayn Malik’s manager”, Ned Single White Femaled in the background of every pap shot, and they even positioned Ned as the fandom savior, great protector of moppet Zayn and working tirelessly to singlehandedly prevent MoM leaks (more spoiler alerts: he can’t).

3) There’s Sarah Stennett and FAE’s curious ties to both Simon Cowell and Irving Azoff. The links are real and tangible: MYKL (co-writers on many of the tracks on MoM) are former X Factor contestants, Sarah Stennett’s clients Rita Ora and Iggy Azalea are both X Factor hosts, Sarah’s JV being funded by a company that Irving Azoff is on the Board of Directors,  and I’m a mindful hoe that isn’t forgetting about The Brits in March 2015, where Sarah Stennett decided to hang out at the hooves and forked tails table with Simon Cowell.

4) How would Zayn have even ended up with Sarah Stennett anyway? FAE is a boutique management company with a lackluster lineup. Zayn had brand recognition, a huge built-in fanbase, and talent. I have a really hard time believing that there weren’t other management companies that were vying for Zayn. So why Stennett? You can argue that she has a good track record of breaking an artist, but her ability as a manager to take an artist’s career beyond that is decidedly shit. Iggy Azalea and Rita Ora are both proof enough of that.

Part II: I regret to inform you Zayn is still with 1DHQ

If I were to do maths, there is roughly a metric fuckton of evidence that  Zayn never left the talons of Simon Cowell and Syco, and that he’s still tied to 1DHQ. That’s why Zayn’s career has been such a goat rodeo: it’s been designed to be. It is sabotage, for the pure and simple facts that Simon will not have Zayn to profit off of as an artist in the long term, and also part of a  a very really and aggressive effort to damage both Zayn and 1D’s brand in the long term. 

Here are just a few of the (many) receipts:

1) MoM was released under Simco and licensed to RCA, for all Simon Cowell/Simco/Syco tried to very poorly hide that. 

 Dan Wootton curled his forked tail underneath him  and penned an article with his own two hooves that Simon Cowell  dropped Zayn “out of loyalty” to the remaining members of 1D on July 16, 2015:

Yet on July 17, 2015, Billboard released an article - with a statement from a Syco rep, no less - that confirmed Zayn was still a Syco artist:

There was also the incident on January 29, when Pillowtalk was released and iTunes listed it as “Simco under exclusive license to RCA”. It was quickly changed to “RCA”, but not before the fandom could make screenshots, natch:

2) Zayn’s stunt/promo schedule (lol promo) is still in perfect tandem with Babygate and One Direction’s.  Zayn’s fakelationship with Gigith even began at almost the same time as Lounielle & Cherliam (Zigi Nov. 25, Lounielle Dec. 8, Cherliam Dec. 12), and also has all the same hallmarks as a 1DHQ fakelationship: everyone is getting engaged, everyone has pets, and everyone is living together within a month. 

Also, remember the time  Eleanor and Zayn’s beard Gigith provided mutual promo? BECAUSE I DO:

3) Zayn’s career has been used to push 1DHQ narratives and agendas. Take his interview with The Fader, and it’s curiously aggressive anti-shipping stance, for instance:

“There’s no secret relationships going on with any of the band members,” he explains. “It’s not funny, and it still continues to be quite hard for them. They won’t naturally go put their arm around each other because they’re conscious of this thing that’s going on, which is not even true. They won’t do that natural behavior. But it’s just the way the fans are. They’re so passionate, and once they get their head around an idea, that’s the way it is regardless of anything. If it wasn’t for that passionate, like, almost obsession, then we wouldn’t have the success that we had.”

Or that Zayn was the first 1D member to acknowledge the birth of Freddie:

4. Zayn’s cancellations (Graham Norton, BBC Radio 1, Summertime Ball), were all confined to the UK where 1DHQ is based, and were all either almost immediately reported on, or exclusively reported on by 1DHQ mouthpieces. It’s a real pattern, and all roads lead back to 1DHQ.

5. The curious case of Naughty Boy. Naughty Boy was painted the villain in Zayn’s leaving,  and cast as the person who ultimately lured Zayn away from 1D for a solo career (only to have an alleged falling out with Zayn), yet he and Simon Cowell appear to be really close bruhs, you guys!

Simon Cowell must be such a benevolent and forgiving soul ( I can’t even type that with a straight face), because Naughty Boy was at the Syco Summer Party on July 19. I present to you this real Lemony Snickett of a  photo of Naughty Boy with Cheryl, Dan Wootton, and Simon Cowell’s girlfriend:

Funny how that worked out. 

Those are just some of the Spark Notes regarding Zayn’s solo career and the associated fuckery. I fully recommend if you’re new to check out my solo!Zayn Masterpost - it’s pretty comprehensive and lays out theories regarding his sabotage-y career, his team, and lack of promo (a lot of which have come to pass). 

Thanks for reading this far - may you have an excellent day and may your hair game remain forever strong.

High School Kook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: You’re the new girl in a fancy school and you don’t know many people. When you get paired up with Jeon Jungkook for debate class you can’t help but feel utterly nervous.

Word count: 3612

You nervously looked at yourself in the mirror as you tried to do something original with your hair. It was the first day of school after winter break and you wanted to do something different. You typically didn’t care too much about that sort of thing back at your old school, but ever since you transferred to one of the most exclusive schools in the country you couldn’t help but feel pressured to make an effort. Everybody always looked their best, regardless of the occasion, and regardless of their social status.

You weren’t filthy rich nor poor, but middle class people rarely got into school’s like this, that’s why you couldn’t skip the opportunity when you were offered a scholarship to study there – as much as it hurt to leave your old school and friends behind. You were used to exceed at everything back in your old school – unless it required you to talk in public – but you quickly understood that it wasn’t enough in this school. Everybody exceeded at everything, making you become an average student. It hurt your ego, but it also made you realize how important it was to work harder. That’s probably part of the reason why it was so difficult for you to make friends in the first semester you studied there. It wasn’t that people were mean to you, it wasn’t like in the movies or dramas with crazy bullying stories, and sure you did get along with a few people, but you didn’t really have many friends, only a couple girls you wished could be in all your classes.

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You’re okay, I guess.

Originally posted by taekookie-bts

Warnings: The moral of this story: Have sex with him. You’ll like him better than you think.

I’ve never wanted to get involved with him. He reeks the smell of trouble. His face has trouble written all over it. From head to toe, he screams out trouble. How come the more I try to avoid, the deeper I fall?

“Pick a number the sit according to the chart on the board. No complaints!” She slaps the table with her long ruler, indicates the cue for us to go pick our seats from the folded pieces of paper in the carton box. I, and of course my other classmates, have lots of concern about this new “random” seating arrangement. They all want to seat near their friends or smarter people whom they can copy the work from. But for me, I want to avoid one person, Jeon Jungkook. You may ask: “Well what’s wrong with this fine looking young man?”


Everything is wrong about him.

He has been haunting me longer than I could remember. My mind didn’t write down the memories about the day we’ve met but it did tell me once about my first impression for him: an active and energetic boy. I often saw him being caught up in troubles as if it was an addiction and he was overdosed. Somehow, he has my attention in the palm of his hand. My eyes reach for him, still they avoid his. Strangely enough, it wasn’t a one-way affection. The way Jungkook treats me feels different, neutrally different. It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad. Obvious seems to be the most accurate adjective to describe it. I see him everywhere: at the cafeteria, in the hallway, by the vending machine… until it became too usual to be just a coincidence. Our conversations would always start with him “offering” me to skip class with him and end with me rejecting him with a single word. I do question his reasons sometimes, not with him but with myself.

“12.” I exhale with relaxation and move to my new seat at the end of the class, next to the window. It is the perfect place to completely immerse myself in my works, without being bothered by the rest of this noisy class. I sit down and settle myself. The gentle spring breeze greets me, touching my braids teasingly as if it is flirting with me. I feel at ease looking at the strips of golden sunshine. The state of daydreaming approaches me through different media. The sound of rustling leaves sweeps me off my feet. I am flying to those cotton clouds.

“Hey! Earth to Y/N!” The pain spreads through my scalp where my braid is. My head follows its instinct and tilts the direction that my braid is being pulled. Anger can’t even describe the emotion I’m feeling, not after I know who the culprit is. There he is, sitting right next to me with his hand grabbing my braid and pulling it down, the one and only Jeon Jungkook. I hit his hand for him to release my hair. A tidal wave of anger and disappointment rushes through my organs. I shoot him with that you’re-not-welcome look and all I receive is a typical social smile that acquaintances give each other. He is sure that I’m not too stupid to not decipher that smile as a notice that for the next few months I’m going to experience hell at its finest.

I don’t talk to him at all for the rest of that day, trying to keep our conversations at the minimum. Meanwhile Jungkook, with all of his best effort, attempts to distract me every second. I lose count how many times he asks for a pen, a piece of paper, sharing textbook… It is driving me crazy. Still, showing it to him would just make him cockier about it. Time seems longer when I’m with him, not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. He leans back on his chair. Hands behind his neck, he settles himself in a laid back position and of course, restrains from doing any math questions.

“Are you not going to do this?” I turn to him, showing a bit of my honest anger.

“Don’t want to.” Only his eyes are facing me.

“Well you’re going to get into trouble with the teacher, again.” I stress on my words.

“That old hag can’t do anything to me.” His body slides down the chair. Now he looks like he is lying more than sitting. My eyes still glue to him. “What? You’re worried about me?” He smirks. My cheekbones suddenly feel like they just went out from a heated oven. My heart misses its cue to beat. “No. Do whatever you want.” I quickly turn away to hide the uncontrollable expressions on my face. Nervous and weak are the last emotions I want to show him.

“Oh… somebody’s lying.” He leans forward and closer to me, one hand twisting the end of my braid. His cheek presses on the table as he looks at my face from the bottom. I lean further away, even move my chair so I don’t look uncomfortable. Jungkook hand leaves my braid and places on my thigh where my skirt ends. I hit his hand but his fingers just keep digging in tighter. My legs stay numb, afraid that if I move them he would get the chance to go deeper under the skirt. The heat from his palm on my thigh evaporates my skin. I feel hotter and almost breathless. Now my heart has to work harder than its capability. He must be fascinated about my thigh. Sometimes he traces heart patterns on it.

The bell rings to end this awfully long period. We have gym next and I’m glad there can be some space between us for me to calm down. His hand leaves my thigh as the whole class stands up and becomes noisy. Before turning his back on me, he gives me a maleficent smirk and I can’t help but blush. He knows I could have screamed to the teacher when he touched my thigh, but I didn’t. I try to argue myself that I didn’t have a choice. However, my heart keeps throwing out these convincing testimonies. I rest my case.

Gym class starts with the friendly basketball game between the boys. As expected, Jungkook great athletic skill shines bright on the field. I’m too busy analyzing Jungkook to notice the aching volume of the girls cheering for him. The sweat drips from his forehead to his sharp jawline and paints his whole body with a glossy coat. The muscles in his arms appear and disappear as he works his way through the opponents and shoots the ball into the basket. His strong-built calves and even the veins shown through his thin skin attract my attention. The game ends faster than I thought. Our class wins.

My eyes stick with Jungkook for the rest of gym class. I wonder to myself how come a good athlete like him takes these exercises so lightly. He barely does what our teacher says, not even the easiest tasks like push-ups and running. There’s no doubt that he can do them all. It may just be that breaking the rules is his natural habitat.

I stay back to put the basketballs into the storing room. It isn’t my duty, but considering that we were the ones who took them out, I think it’s the right thing to put them back where they were again.

“Cleaning up?” Jungkook leans on the entrance of the room, holding the last basketball in his hand.

“Yeah. Why are you still here?” My arms cross in front of my chest.

“To help.” He steps towards me, closing the door behind him.

“Thanks.” I receive the ball from him. As he turns away, through the open of his backpack, I see the textbook for today’s class that he claimed to “forgot it at home”. I’m surprise and a bit angry.

“Jungkook… You have your textbook today with you…” I ask.

He turns around and flusters “Yeah…”

“Why did you lie to me?” My anger is on the top of my head.

“Well how do you think I’m going to get your attention now?” He yells out loud. His anger calms my anger down. His words stop half way through my brain. They are too vague for me to analyze. “Shit” He punches the locker. “I’m sorry okay? I know how much you hate me so… you know… what other choices do I have?” My body freezes. I just stand there, looking at him with zero expressions shown. He has his face looking at a different direction. His eyebrows squint together.

“Kiss me.” I say.

Jungkook looks at me puzzled, wondering if what he heard by his ears is what came out from my mouth.

“Give me a kiss like those romantic couples on TV. I’m giving you a choice now so do it before I change my mind.”

He steps closer until I’m at the bottom of his nose. His hands cup my cheeks and lift my face up. His rough lips touch mine, granting me this passion and lust. He starts tilting his head and our lips open. The kiss becomes tenser and lewder. His tongue gains its access into my mouth and tastes mine. I can taste the sweetness of strawberry from the tip of his taste buds. His hands leave my cheeks, trails down to my ass and then make their way to my thighs.

He cuts of the kiss and slams my back on the lockers. Stuck between his arms, my head tilts so he can nip the wet skin of my neck and collarbones. The heat of his body makes me sweat. Each time he sucks harder, my core feels like melting. I can swear there is water in my panties. My body tries to adapt this overloading sensual feeling but it’s too difficult. I start to shiver. He begins to suck harder, leaving pain lightly covers some areas on my neck.

“These are proves that you are mine. Mine only.” He whispers into my ears.

Jungkook pulls down my shorts and panties at the same time. He looks at my core for a long time, which is still in the process of developing sexually. He can tell this is my first time, not only by looking at my core, but my expression. He pulls down his shorts and underwear. His cock rises, pointing towards me. My thighs have the tendency to move closer, trying to protect my core from being seen.

“I’ll go gently. But if something goes wrong, tell me to stop.” His forehead touches mine as he tries to calm my nerves. He inserts himself into me. My core stretches out to receive him. It hurts a bit to adjust along with his size, but when he sinks in completely, my body can feel this mixture of these arousals. He starts slowly, thrusting into my pelvis to make sure I have to time adapt. But I learn this lesson quicker than that.

“Faster… go faster…” I struggle my words out of this suffocation. Jungkook goes faster. Water drips from my core to the side of my thighs, I’m not sure if it’s mine or it’s his. He pulls his dick out half way slowly then slam it in again, making sure I have enough energy to hit that climax. And I did, followed by my juice creating a mess between my legs. I sit down, feeling my core throbs and burns.

Jungkook gets a towel and cleans both of us up. He dresses me again and carries me of his back, switching his backpack to the front of his body. Exhaustion doesn’t allow me to see clearly. My cheek presses on his shoulders. His large back feels warm and for once, I don’t think about avoiding him. He’s okay, I guess.

For all of y’all thirsty people who asked for Jungkook doing you at school, hope this satisfied you. 3:20 am here so I apologize for the procrastination.

What Is and What should never be Should Have Been

(Unfavorable contrasts in 11.12)

There’s already a lot of meta on parallels in 11.12. So many people have analyzed how Claire’s brokenness is reflected in Dean’s obsession with hunting and how Alex and Claire are blatantly obvious Sam and Dean parallels (with, admittedly, some distinctions as well as some overlap). People discuss the kitchen scene with Dean admitting that he would have benefited from the kind of talks Jody thinks about giving her girls. Those are all important, of course. 

What I haven’t seen, however, are analyses of how Jody/Claire (as surrogate mother and sister figures) and John/Dean stack up in their treatment of Alex and Sam. I’m not surprised that I haven’t seen meta like this, because these parallels and contrasts do not reflect favorably on the two oldest Winchesters.

Dean and John (unable or unwilling to support Sam out of fear for him or of him) helped to isolate Sam with unfair ultimatums and impossible standards, feeding his shame and perpetuating his feelings of inferiority in an desperate bid to do what they thought they had to. In contrast, Jody and Claire offered Alex a support system and acceptance of her past, acknowledging her as an individual with the right to choose for herself.

The parallels and contrasts are unflattering at best, but they are also important. This is how Sam should have been treated. Let’s take a look at Sam and Alex’s startlingly similar actions and experiences and compare the shockingly different responses.

The bullet points below contain as much inevitable negativity as you might expect from a meta on this topic. Potential Dean and John criticism beyond this point. **  Proceed with caution.

Keep reading

Hands To Myself

Originally posted by evilqueenregine

Originally posted by se-le-na-tothegomez

Originally posted by cockygomez

Tittle: Hands To Myself

Pairing: Peter Pan x Reader

Requested: Yes

Rating: PG

Warning: a island full of horny teenage boys.

   “Are you sure your even a girl? I mean I never met a girl that can punch before, let alone one who gets along so well with a group of boys.”

  “Of course I am a girl you moron.” I snapped, glaring at the chuckling lost boys.

   “All I am saying is, that maybe you should really think about this whole thing more. Women as suppose to be kind, your a bitch. Women are suppose to be gentle, you are anything but and women are suppose to make the men of the house, in our case camp, food. You don’t. So all I am saying, that by all definitions, you aren’t a girl, or a good one at least.”

  “So because I refuse to make your sorry ass dinner that means I’m not a girl.”

  “Pretty much.” He answered, his smug smile faltering when I snarled at him.

  “We both know that I can tear you apart and do my nails at the same time, so why don’t we refrain from ticking my off shall we?”

 “That’s what I mean! Girls aren’t suppose to do that. They are suppose to be sweet and kind, gentle. They are suppose to make make you feel safe, not like they could end your life at any given moment!”

  “You want girly, I swear to god I will give you girly, and when I do I want you to march your ass down to the mermaids and let them deal with your sorry ass.” I snarled, glaring at him as I pushed myself up from my seat and stormed across the camp. As I pushed past a startled Peter he groaned.

  “When you will you learn to stop pissing her off? Seriously people I have been to hell and Hades is less scary then she is when she’s pissed.”

  “All I did was ask if she was sure she was a girl.”

  “When you die, I want you to know that it could have been prevented. Oh and your fifty different kinds of stupid.” Peter grumbled, flinching as I slammed the door to my hut shut. “Now we get to deal with her all pissed off because you have no brain!”


   I huffed as I started to pace and back in froth in my small hut, my hands shaking with anger. Ever since I got here, all I have heard, is the lost boys doubt my being a girl. They all had their idea of a female and since I could do what ever they threw at me, better than they ever could, they decided to get me the only way they could. By doubting I was in fact a girl.

  Before I came to Neverland I was the perfect mix of girly girl and tomboy. I could play with the boys, and be dressed to impress with the girl all in the same day. But here, here I couldn’t. Here it was be a tomboy and live, or be a mix and die. Though right now, dying seemed like the better option, there is only so many times you can hear, ‘well maybe your not a girl’ before you start to hate yourself. Heck you can only hear it so many times before you start wanting to leave Neverland and never look back. The only reason I was still here, was because every time I told Peter to take me back, he reminded me of why I was here.

  I was the black sheep in a family full of doctors. I got sick at the sight of blood, I hated the whole concept of needles, and I just barely passed my science and math classes. I was an actress, and musician and a dancer. If it wasn’t one of the three I failed, badly.

   “That’s it.” I whispered, my lips pulling up into a eager grin. I turned and looked at myself in the mirror, my smirk still on my face. Why not show them just how wrong they are by using the one thing they loved to stare at the most?

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ At The Bonfire ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  I was pacing again, waiting for the music to start so I could go head to the camp. After working on it all day, I was finally ready. I wore a tight, forest green bra and matching high waist underwear. I had brushed my hair so much that it was silky and smooth on as it hung around my shoulders. I had somehow, after all whole hell of a lot of effort, managed to get myself a green pair of heels. I looked hot, sexy even, and with the song and dance I had in mind, I knew I would have the lost boys eating out of my hand within seconds. All I needed was for Peter to start, and that was just a matter of waiting. He always started at the same time. 

  “Right on time Peter.” I giggled. I looked myself over one more time before I headed out to the camp, making sure to walk slowly. As I walked out of my hut, I leaned up against the side, draping one arm over my head and bending one leg so it rested on the wood. As I started to sing, I let my fingers trail down the valley of my breast to the top of my underwear.

  “Can’t keep my hands to myself. No matter how hard I’m trying to Iwant you all to myself. Your metaphorical gin and juice” I sang, each of the lost boys turned to stare at me with an open mouth. I grinned, and leaned forward, throwing my hair as I slowly moved back up.

  “ So come on, give me a taste, Of what it’s like to be next to you. Won’t let one drop go to waste. Your metaphorical gin and juice.” I sang, pushing myself off the wall of my hut as I slowly made my way to the lost boys.  “Oh, cause all of the downs and the uppers. Keep making love to each other and I’m trying, trying, I’m trying, trying. All of the downs and the uppers. Keep making love to each other and I’m trying, trying, I’m trying.” As I walked, I slowly moved my hands down my body, letting my fingers run through the silky waves of my hairs as I ran my finger tips over my sides. As I did, I noticed Peter stop playing, his gaze slowly moving to me.

  “Well fuck.” He groaned, shaking his head when I instantly started to swirl my hips as I bent my knees, running my hands up my legs as I rose, my ass in the air.

  “ But I…” I threw my head back, whipping my hair back as I bite my lip, my eyes glued on Peter as I slowly moved one hand to my clothed center. “Can’t keep my hands to myself. My hands to myself. The doctors say you’re no good
But people say what they wanna say and you should know if I could I’d breathe you in every single day. Oh, cause all of the downs and the uppers keep making love to each other and I’m trying, trying, I’m trying, trying. All of the downs and the uppers keep making love to each other and I’m trying, trying, I’m trying.. but I…” I paused, smiling at Peter as I dropped in front of him, my hands resting on his knees as I leaned towards him, my face inches from his, my hips swaying to the beat in my head. “Can’t keep my hands to myself. My hands to myself.”

  “What ever you are aiming towards, it’s working.” Peter snarled, his green eyes flashing with anger as I twirled away from his grasp. I giggled, swaying my hips, my hands in the air as I spun to lean against a tree, back arching against it as I started to sing again.

  “ Can’t keep my hands to myself. I want it all, no, nothing else. Can’t keep my hands to myself.Give me your all and nothing else. Oh, I, I want it all. I want it all. I want it all, ooh” I let my gaze flutter around the camp, smirking proudly when I noticed every single lost boy were shifting around, their hands clamped tightly over their crouches.

  “ Can’t keep my hands to myself.” I sang, throwing my back as I ran my hands flat against my breast, running them down to my thighs, making sure that my fingers brushed ever so lightly against my center. “I mean, I could but why would I want to?”

  “WE GET THE POINT YOU A GIRL!” Peter screamed, making his way towards me, his green eyes dark with a mixture of anger and lust. “But why the hell you think you show these boys what is mine, is beyond me.”

  “I just had to point it out to your little boys here, that just because I can throw a punch, and swing a sword, doesn’t mean I’m not a girl.”

  “Yeah well trust me, we all got the point. Now come along, I have a lesson of my own I need to teach them.”

  “That would?” I asked, biting my lip as I let my head fall to the side.

  “Who you belong to.” Peter snarled, his arm reaching out to wrap around my waist, pulling me against him, his hands moving down so it rested on the small of my back. “I also need to teach them who is aloud to have you screaming.”