jessicamarcia requested: Jungkook + Idol/Fan AU Pairing: Jungkook | Reader Genre: Fluff Word Count: 17,378 Author’s Note: Tbh I had some apprehension about this request because an idea I stumbled upon that just kept coming back to me was directly from this fantasy I kept about having about what would happen if I ever meet Jungkook and how and this just feels very personal to me as a result. Regardless, I decided to share because I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t decide to contribute my pain to the fandom.
ALSO, sentences in italics are being spoken in Korean.
Summary: You never understood the gravity of your position as an intern working Kcon until you fall for one of your favorite idols, Jeon Jungkook—quite literally too.
Sometimes you think you have a lot of mixed feelings when it comes to your job.
On one hand, it’s a pretty incredible opportunity, one that you acknowledge not a lot of people get to experience first hand: which is working as an intern in the event operations department for Kcon—the annual Korean convention in which big Kpop groups will travel around the world to bring their music and their joy to the international fanbase. For someone who never actually had the means and the ability to make the trip as an audience member of your own accord, it’s fascinating to witness the back-the-scenes sight of how much effort and how much time goes into planning and organizing an event of this scale.
And because Kcon it in of itself is half a convention and half a concert, there were always many people needed to cover the different subsections of the event, which is where your role as an intern came into play. Given that there were two interns in the department of organizing the physicality of the event, you were put on the team mainly in charge of organizing the convention while the other intern assisted with scheduling of the talents and making sure the performances would go by smoothly.
But on the other end of that spectrum, working with vendors really allows you to see how many people handle responsibility and deadlines and it makes you want to pull the hair out of your roots. You like to think of yourself as a fairly reasonable person, giving a vendor 24 hours to respond to emails at the latest before having to resort to more emails and phone call—but this is absolutely ridiculous.
Title: Can You Keep It? Fandom: Riverdale Characters: Jughead Jones x female!reader, Archie Andrews, Betty Cooper, Veronica Lodge, Kevin Keller, Reggie Mantle Warnings: Swearing, definitely not my best writing :( Word Count: 1,185 Requested: Nope (because requests are closed y’all) Short Description: You and your boyfriend, Jughead, are trying to keep your fresh relationship a secret after the town’s golden boy is murdered. You are unconvinced that he can keep the secret. As it turns out, it’s you that reveals your relationship. A/N: This is my first Riverdale story and I don’t read much Riverdale fanfic so I’m not exactly sure if this fits in but… here we go!
Disclaimer: not my gif
[Y/N] = your first name [Y/L/N] = your last name
The student lounge was, as always, fairly crowded. Students were lounging around the room, chatting, staying away from the outside or finishing any last minute homework. It was also an area where the primarily “popular” people tended to spend their lunch times, as they were “too cool” for the library. Quiet chatter was all that you could hear as you attempted to concentrate on your English homework, answering a ridiculous essay question for Wuthering Heights. You were sat with Betty and Kevin, working on some homework as Ronnie sat close to Chuck Clayton, undoubtedly chatting him up with her implausible Veronica Lodge charm as she sipped on coffee.
Then there was Jughead Jones, in all of blue-green eyed magnificence. Jughead was tall and lanky, with pale, creamy skin and his signature frown on his face. A bag was draped over one of his shoulders, a raven black jacket covering his maroon hoodie. He seemed to always bury himself behind clothing in dark shades, but you liked the way that it made his eyes stand out so much. His back was sloping alongside the wall next to the vending machine; people watching. Jughead’s trademark crown-shaped beanie was placed atop of his head of ebony hair, and the sight alone made me bite back a grin. Noticing your gaze, Jughead looked in your direction before sending you a quick and discrete wink. You winked in return before glimpsing over at Veronica to explain why your head was turned.
Jughead had been one of your best friends since before you could recall. It was virtually like Betty and Archie; you and Jughead been intimate friends since the single digit days. Any vital childhood memory you could think of had Jughead present; just the way you wanted it. Initially, you had presumed that Jughead had fervent, platonic feelings for you. At some point in the summer of Jason Blossom’s death, you were proven wide of the mark, when Jughead unpredictably declared his love for you. Fortunately, there was something inside of you that was sure you felt the same way.
On July 4th, Jason Blossom had gone missing and was presumed to be dead after his twin sister, Cheryl, emerged after their boat capsized. It was a scandal that had taken over the entire town of Riverdale, so you and Jughead had agreed to keep your relationship away from your friends until the right time to tell them came around. You were less than persuaded that Jughead would be able to keep this secret, but after his fall out with Archie over the summer, he didn’t have many people to tell. Usually, Jughead and Archie told each other everything, but it seemed that the both of them had been keeping secrets.
Heya! You’ve reached Max. If this is about business, leave a message. If it’s pleasure, though, leave a message and your number, huh, just in case?
“Hey, Max, uh. This is Sam. Are—are you okay? Shit, sorry. I know you’re not. I know you probably don’t want to hear from me or anyone right about now. I get that. Just… lemme know if you don’t want me calling. I won’t. I promise I won’t. I can’t even imagine what you’re dealing with now, but if you need to talk with someone, I’m here. I know a bit about—Jeez. It’s hard to talk about this stuff in a message. I’m pretty sure some of our stories have been circulated in the hunting community, so maybe you know some of the things that have happened. But like, I just wanted to say, demon deals sound appealing in the moment but they can be really shitty. That’s not to say I… not to say I’m sure I wouldn’t do one again if I had to. But, uh, about that! I know, since you’re in the life, you probably have a lot of things to think about right now, choices you could make, and none of them are good. And I just wanted to know that no matter what you want to do, let me know if I can help. I…I know what it’s li—I mean. Dean and I, we have… contacts. You have options, I guess. We—”
SATURDAY, MAY 6th, 2017, 6:41 PM:
Heya! You’ve reached Max. If this is about business, leave a message. If it’s pleasure, though, leave a message and your number, huh, just in case?
“Max, shit. I tried to give you a call earlier but I guess you weren’t there. Alicia answered. Said you were in the shower. I got the impression she doesn’t know anything, so I didn’t tell her, but as someone who has been brought back before, lemme tell you that it hurts worse if you have to figure it out yourself. If you need help talking to Alicia, let me know. And… Jesus, I watched Dean get dragged to Hell, and I know that maybe you didn’t make a deal or maybe you did, but we’ve learned a lot since then. We’ve broken contracts before. Maybe you have access to resources that’ll tell you how, but I don’t know…. If you need help there, we may be able to wrangle something. Just. You’ve got my number. Call me? Dean and I have been through this more times than we can count. Literally. An archangel put me in a timeloop for several months and made me—anyway. You’re not alone in this. You don’t have to be. I know it’s probably scary as hell right now, but if we can’t help, we can maybe put you in contact with someone who can. So. Uh, hope to hear from ya soon.”
TUESDAY, MAY 9th, 2017, 11:15 AM:
"Uh, hey. Sam can’t talk right now ‘cause he’s waxing. Like everything. But leave a message and—” “—Dean! What are you doing with my phone? Dean, come on!”
"Wow, uh. Really? Um. Sam, I got your messages. I guess you—I didn’t mean for you to figure out like that, but thanks for—… I’m gonna talk to Alicia real soon, but it’s hard, you know? I guess maybe you do. I don’t know. Me and Alicia, we try… uh, we try not to put much stock in the stories we hear. Look, I did what I had to do and I’m not going to apologize for it. I’ve got plenty of tricks up my sleeve and I figure I’ll be okay at least in the short term. You may have figured out from that first time we met that demons and such aren’t exactly our forte. I won’t say no to any tips you have on that. And as for Alicia… thanks for the offer, but I’ve got it. I owe it to her to tell her myself and tell her soon. She’s a great hunter. Maybe we can figure something out. I’ll get back to you. Just give me time. Please, just give me some time. And, uh, thank you.”
Does anybody else ever think about the fact that Peter Parker probably doesn’t expect to live past his mid-thirties?!
And he would just accept it too. Like one day he thought, “logically it is probably correct to assume one of my rogues will get the upper hand and kill me. I’d be stupid to think otherwise.”
And this boy just kind of lives life with this fact from now on???? It becomes a background thought, something that he knows he can’t change, so he doesn’t really worry about it.
I’m not saying Peter would be actively trying to die, but he would just always have the thought that is could be soon, it could be tomorrow. You never really know in his line of ‘work’.
So he just never plans to get married, never thinks about having kids, because in his opinion he’ll be lucky to finish college.
And I doubt he would even realize how morbid that kind of mindset is. Really at this point, it doesn’t really bother Peter. He’s just like- “I mean I’ll try to prevent it, but there is only so much I can do.”
And I imagine that after a few comments his friends would start to catch on.
Like one day Johnny and Peter were baking in the Baxter building (okay, Johnny was doing the baking, Peter was doing the eating) and they are talking about what careers they would like to pursue, and Peter makes an off-handed comment about how whatever he does, he needs to make sure to leave Aunt May with enough money to support herself.
And Johnny’s all, “you mean to help support her, like when she can’t work anymore?” because that is not what it sounded like Peter’s meant at all, and Johnny’s gut is twisting inside of him.
And Peter looks like a deer caught in the headlights as he chokes on his cookie, “oh yeah, that’s what I mean. Yup. Y’know Flame Brain these are great cookies, top notch!”
And Johnny lets him deflect, but he makes it a point to listen for anything else that sounds like that. He doesn’t like it. Not one bit.
Or one day Peter is complaining to MJ and he says something about having a midlife crisis, and Mary Jane laughs and says “you can’t have a midlife crisis Pete, your 17.”
And Peter scoffs and says, “yeah, ‘mid-life crisis’, you have to be at the middle mark of your life, duh.” Before doing a double take and stuttering an “oh! Ha! Yup, you’re right hahah!”
But it sticks with MJ. And now those innocent comments about having a mid-life crisis don’t seem so innocent anymore.
Or one time when Gwen and Peter were on his roof trying to catch sight of any stars, and she was talking about her plans after college, how she wanted to leave the US and see the world before getting married.
And Peter listened intently, but when she asks him about his own plans, he just kind of mumbled something about wanting to do anything with science. But other than that he just stays kind of quiet.
And Gwen gets this nagging feeling that that means more than what it seems.
And I feel that the three friends would have a meeting about Peter, and just come to this realization that Peter doesn’t expect to live to 40, and it just breaks their hearts, but they don’t know what to do about it, they don’t know how to fix it.
And it would be so much worse if it did happen too.
Maybe they make it to 21/22yo, Peter has one year of college left, Gwen is planning a trip to Europe for the Summer, MJ just signed with an acting agency, and Johnny and Peter have an apartment together, and life is looking good, no one expects it to happen, because why would they? They are just getting started with life, they are young and happy, why would they think this would happen?
And ‘boom’- the Fantastic Four were off planet and the Avengers were across the world, the Sinister Six attack the city and unmask Spider-Man on live TV and that’s it.
No one was there, no one was there to save Peter, and now he’s gone.
-New York is stunned and shocked, left to mourn their hero. -The News is blowing up with the footage of the public execution of the once beloved Spider-Man AKA Peter Parker. -Aunt May is heartbroken, but so proud, so proud of her son. -Johnny blames himself, can’t help be wonder if he could have stopped it if he was there. -MJ leaves, can’t stand to be in NY anymore, not without Peter being there too. -Gwen is at a lost, feeling broken and unwhole without Peter.
But at the same time, how can they be surprised? Peter knew it would happen, had made his peace with it. And if he saw it was coming, had expected it, how could they not have?
Warnings: NSFW, swearing, adult themes and sexual references.
Disclaimer: Nope, I don’t own Eggsy or you. You belong to you.
P.S: Sorry for any pesky mistakes, this has been edited/checked. Also, just a heads up, never feel like you need to sexualise yourself for someone else’s needs. Don’t. You’re not an object. You’re a human being and should be treated as one.
you snapped, glaring at Merlin, “you want me to go on this mission, as a stripper?”
Merlin chuckled, shaking his head, “no, just for
the party. You need to get into the main suite – to find the keys for the
basement, where they’re keeping hostages and intel.”
Author’s Note: This is for i-know-wrath-and-ruin (a person that is literally the bee’s knees) who requested a Thranduil x Reader story that takes place at a ball. This is probably like the first fanfic(do you even call it that?) I have ever written so obviously, I have no idea what I’m doing. But nonetheless, enjoy the cheesy crappy fluff :)
Quote for the story: “It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.” -The Little Prince
You groaned on the inside. You wouldn’t do it out loud of course, considering you were at a very special elven ball. And even though you were dying of boredom and the fear of talking to the higher class elves, you wanted to be polite.
You were a simple servant of King Thranduil and years after his lovely wife passed, you had the duty of watching over the mischievous yet altruistic Legolas. You didn’t really see it as work, considering that there was a special place in your heart for the royal family. But there were times where it was hard. Not just because Legolas would be a handful at times, but because of the king of Woodland Realm. When you got close to Thranduil because of your responsibility for the young prince, you began to notice the little things. His rare but genuine smiles, the way he looked at Legolas when he made him proud, the way he walked strong even though the kingdom rested on his shoulders, the perfect shade of blue in his eyes, and his perfect handsome face. All of these things made you madly in love. But being the way you were, you knew that you would sit forever in unrequited love. Although it hurt, you made the decision long ago that the way things were just had to be. He had a wife he loved before, he was a king, and you were, well, you. It could never happen.
“Dance with me, (Y/N)!” a voice interrupted your thoughts.
You looked down to find the same prince who you almost thought of as your own.
“Legolas,” you smiled at him, thankful that he saved you from just standing alone. “I would love to dance.”
You took child’s hand and he began to wiggle your arms to the beat of the music. You giggled at this, considering that is was very informal and the other elves must have thought it was quite embarrassing. But you didn’t. Legolas was the one of the few people you felt completely comfortable around.
As the song went on, you took turns twirling each other and skipping arm in arm. You felt happy and disconnected from your problems. It was as if with every swivel of your foot and shake of the hip was slowly taking away all your worries. But that soon changed.
The song slowed into something more romantic and intimate. But before you could process what was going on, a very attractive elf was at your side.
“May I have this dance?” Thranduil asked politely, hand ready to take yours.
Your heart began to race and thoughts flooded your mind. Unike before, you were suddenly aware of everything that was happening. You began to search for the right words, stuttering. But luckily, a very good archer was by your side.
Legolas giggled. “Of course!”
The small elf then lifted your hand to be held by Thranduil’s. Your face heated at the sudden contact that was so foreign to you. He then gracefully took you further into the crowd of dancing elves. As you put your hands into position and began the steps, thoughts began to rattle in your head.
Why would he ask me? Do I look okay? I might be a bit sweaty from dancing with Legolas. My hair could be falling out from it’s braids too. Doesn’t he know that people will be looking? They might think less of him for dancing with a lower-class elf. Is this to embarrass me? No, he would never do that. What is he going to say? What am I going to say? Do I make eye contact? Maybe If I look somewhere else it will be less awkward. Does he think this is awkward? Oh no…
“(Y/N),” he said, tearing you from your thoughts. “I just want to thank you for all that you have done for Legolas. I know that his mother’s death did not do him kindly.”
You were taken aback by the sudden praise. “I am only doing it because it is my duty.”
“No, you do much more than that. You have been like a mother to him. And for that, I am very thankful. Because of you, I know he will grow into a good man.”
You had no idea what to say. The work you put into taking care Legolas was just something you would’ve done for anyone you cared about. And you cared for both Legolas and Thranduil.
So you went with, “My king, I have no thoughts on what to say.”
“Please, you can address me as Thranduil. You deserve at least that.”
“Thank you, Thranduil.”
He smiled that rare smile that you fell in love with. “Not only do I want to give my thanks for my son,” he broke eye contact and, was that a blush? No, probably the lighting. “but I also want to thank you for making me feel happiness once again. Ever since my wife-” he paused, trying to find the words. “Well, I just have not been myself. But my interactions with you have given me merriment. You have a particular glow about you and you are quite humorous for one who is so shy. I…I wish to know you more. And I think that is only right because we have been around each other for sometime now.”
Your heart wanted to sing. This was everything you needed to hear. Were you dreaming? most possibly. This could not be real. But, it was.
Prior to their departure from the hotel, Kent’s
first act of business is to Google something on his phone. He won’t let Alexei
see what it is.
“Fuck yes!” Kent exclaims. When he looks up from the
screen, he’s grinning. “Okay, we’ve got some hours to kill. Will you be warm
enough walking around outside in just a shirt and jacket? Even at night? It
gets cold up here.”
Alexei looks down at himself. “I’m Russian.”
“Yeah, and I play ice hockey and grew up in New
York, and I can’t fucking stand the cold. That’s why I’ve got three layers on
and I’m grabbing a jacket before we go.” Kent gets up from his chair. “So?”
Alexei gets up, too. “I’m okay. It’s warm jacket.
Where we go at night?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” Kent
goes to his closet to fish out the aforementioned jacket, which he ties around
his waist like it’s 1995. Alexei would chirp him but it’s too fucking cute.
Kent heads for the door but Alexei hangs back,
looking around the room. It was mildly messy when they came in but now it’s
kind of disastrous, with the beds further rumpled from people sitting on their
edges and all the available trashcans filled up with leavings. The delivery
bags have been rolled up and stuffed inside each other, along with the
discarded pie and quiche tins.
“Housekeeping will get it,” Kent says.
Alexei still cringes at the mess, but he goes with
Kent, who checks for his keycard before closing the door behind them.
Outside the hotel, all is quiet. Alexei doesn’t see
anyone with cameras hanging out in wait.
“Probably stalking the Falconers,” Kent says, and
hails a taxi.