the way he pauses before he says yeah

squint at where you’re from

oops sometimes you gotta

spoilers for 413, bellamy/clarke, 1600 words, gen. AO3!


Even though it’s not really the same as coming down in the first time, Bellamy still has this strange sense of deja vu as he looks at the door. The ship is smaller, he has fewer people with him, he feels both more and less sure of what he’ll find. They tried to hit the only spot of green they could see, but the controls are a mess, so he’s not sure they got to it. The whole fucking ship is a mess, built out of whatever scrap they could salvage. Even with six years to perfect it, the thing is still held together with spit and prayer, according to Raven.

But it got them to the ground. They’re back.

“Just open the fucking door!” says Raven, and Bellamy lets out a long breath and finally hits the release.

He knows what he’s hoping for: clean air, plants, blue sky. And he gets all of those.

He just also gets a girl, maybe ten or eleven, with brown hair in braids, pointing a gun at him. Which is honestly fairly encouraging; someone survived, and they have firearms. So she probably came out of the bunker.

He puts his hands up on reflex.

“Hey, uh–we come in peace,” he tries, and then says it again in Trig, for good measure. He doesn’t recognize her, but that doesn’t mean anything. She could be from another clan; there are plenty of them he doesn’t know. Or–his heart trips on the thought–she could be a nightblood. She could have survived because of that, and if she survived–

The girl pulls her gun back and looks at him critically. “Are you Bellamy Blake?”

He blinks a few times. “Um, yeah. I’m Bellamy Blake.”

“Really?”

She sounds skeptical, which doesn’t make any fucking sense. She’s the one who brought it up. There’s no reason for her not to believe him.

“Yeah, really. Did you come out of the bunker? Is my sister with you? Octavia?”

You’re Bellamy?” she says, like she didn’t hear him. She’s making a face like something smells odd. “I thought you’d be taller.”

Taller?” he asks.

Raven pokes her head out. “It’s been five minutes and you’re already being held at gunpoint? You sure have a way with people, Bellamy.”

“Look, we don’t want to hurt you,” he tells the girl. “Just–”

“I know,” she says. “You just want to see Clarke.”

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Pocky Day

This one-shot is inspired by Hiro Mashima’s picture he drew for Pocky Day 2017. I do not own Fairy tail or this picture, Hiro Mashima does.

Summary: Some people can’t seem to grasp the concept of staying in their lane. Erza finds out the hard way that sometimes it’s better to leave things alone. Canonverse.

Rated T for foul language, blood, mild violence, and adult situations.

Genre: Humor, Romance

Pairing: Natsu/Lucy (Nalu)

Word Count: 3.5K

Read on FF.net or AO3.


Pocky Day

“We need to figure out which guy Lucy likes.”

Cana and Mira looked over, giving Erza a questioning glance. They looked over to Lucy, seeing her sitting at one of the tables. A book was in her hand while her spirit, Plue, wobbled about the table. Their gazes turned to Erza, Cana choosing to ask, “How do you plan on doing that?”

“Let’s do a pocky test!”

“A pocky test?” Mira asked, her tone skeptical. “What’s that?”

Erza’s eyes gleamed as she explained. “We make her and a guy eat a stick of pocky together to see who makes Lucy blush the most!”

Cana and Mira shared a look before shaking their heads. “That’s… that’s not a real test,” Cana said, but it was too late.

The requip mage was heading from table to table, asking if anyone had any pocky. When she found a pack of chocolate pocky in Levy’s possession, she snatched it away, ensuring the girl it was for a good cause. By the time Erza returned to the bar, a small crowd had gathered, Cana and Mira filling them in to Erza’s shenanigans.

“It’s not gonna work,” Macao said, shaking his head. “That girl blushes at everything.”

“Shhh,” Kinana swatted at the old drunk, “it might work.”

Erza grabbed a few sticks of pocky, waving them for everyone to see before heading to Lucy’s table. The celestial mage looked up when she saw someone approaching, offering Erza a smile.

“Hey Erza. How are you— What are you doing?!”

Erza dragged Lucy to the center of the room, looking around for her first victim. She found him sitting at the bar, a piece of chicken in his hand. “Natsu!”

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It's Good for You

Summary:  You need to find a way to get some exercise when you’re out on a case with Sam and Dean.  Dean is happy to oblige.

Characters:  Dean x Reader, Sam

Word Count:  1493

Warnings:  SMUT (oral, female receiving, unprotected sex), fluff

A/N:  I may be developing an exercise kink.  Who knew?

 If you’d like to be tagged in my fics send me an ask!

*GIF was found through Google credit goes to its owner.*

You slam the door behind you as you stomp into the motel room.  Dean is still in bed just rising up on his elbow rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Whoa, they didn’t have the right set of dumbbells, princess?”

“Ha, ha, Dean.  No they were closed.  A water main broke or something.  How am I supposed to exercise without a gym?

“You wanna come with me for a run?” Sam asks stepping out of the bathroom in his running gear.

You’re about to give Sam your “are-you-serious?” look when Dean chimes in.

“This one?  Go on a run with you?” Dean laughs from his bed.  “Don’t you remember that hunt when she was being chased by a ghoul?  She tried to speed walk away.”

“Shut up!” you throw one of your shoes at Dean.

Dean ducks down as it whizzes past his head.

“Don’t get me wrong sweetheart, you’re the fastest speed walker I’ve ever seen.”

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Tease (M) | Jungkook

Anonymous Requested : Sub!Jungkook with thigh riding

A/N : I combined two Jungkook anon requests, hope you don’t mind!

Genre : Smut || Jungkook x Reader

Word Count : 2,257

Description : Contrary to Jungkook’s confident stage appearance, when placed in situations involving people of the opposite sex he turns shy. So when you start teasing your boyfriend at a company dinner party, things only get interesting from there. 

Originally posted by agustd

You could feel him stiffen underneath your touch when you grazed your hand along the inside of his thigh, as you sat around the table of the company dinner party. You decide that his reaction is cute, and that you want more, so you slowly start to inch your way closer to the hardness that you already knew was growing inside of his pants. A slight chuckle escapes your mouth when he flinches so hard that he jerks his knee up causing the entire table to shake, making his glass of water fall directly onto his lap.

“Oh shit, sorry.” He jumps up immediately, and everyone starts to laugh at the klutzy behavior of the usually poise Jungkook.

“Nice going, aren’t you supposed to be golden or something?”

The slightly joking, slightly serious joke comes from Yoongi, who had looked completely bored the whole evening. You couldn’t blame him though, this dinner party was taking way too long, and all you’d been thinking about the entire time was how much you wanted to drag Jungkook back up to your hotel room so you could play with him some more.

“Hey, be nice. Go up to your and Y/N’s room and change really quick.”

The words come from Namjoon, and Jungkook quickly nods his head, and starts to walk from the hotel dining hall towards your room.

“I’m going to go too, I don’t feel very well.”

You don’t even wait to hear or look at the other member’s reactions because you’re sure they already know what’s going on, and you just couldn’t wait any longer. You catch up to Jungkook right as he’s getting on the elevator. Once the doors shut he turns to face you, and shows off his annoyed expression.

“What’s wrong?” You ask playfully.

“You know what Y/N, why’d you do that? Someone could’ve seen you, and I caused a commotion.”

“I would hardly call it a commotion” you started, but then decide to step closer to him, making him press against the elevator wall before continuing “and I’m sorry you just get flustered so easily, and it’s so cute.” You say the last part in a hushed whisper as you close the remaining space between the both of you.

You see his breath hitch from your words, and you feel the surge of power course through you.

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Oh my gosh, I just found the “I’m Mary Poppins y'all” scene on YouTube, and I’m simultaneously smiling and close to tears.

That little pause Peter does to take in Yondu before saying. “… Hell yeah, he’s cool” just about breaks me. He isn’t talking about Mary there anymore, let me tell you, he is talking only about Yondu.

And how quickly and readily Yondu shouts “I’m Mary Poppins y'all!” just because his boy is ready to think of him as cool because he looks like that Poppins guy - just broke me again.

Those two love each other in their own weird way, and nobody can tell me otherwise.

behind closed doors

[cr.]

genre: angst; drabble

pairing: yoongi x reader

length: 2.5k

summary: after falling for your already taken best friend, min yoongi, your confession results in a less than surprising fall out. three years later, you find yourself at your own wedding, except whom the last millisecond of each one of your heartbeats is beating for isn’t the groom; it’s him.

prompts:
“do you think we’re bad people?”
“i tried my best to not feel anything for you. guess what? i failed.” 
“if you had asked me to stay, i would’ve.” 

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Pink {Bakugou Katsuki}

 I should be studying for my molecular biology exam, but instead I did a thing. 


Katsuhiko sniffles as he wipes his bloody nose on his ruined pink shirt. He wishes he didn’t believe his daddy. He wishes that he’d never even looked at that shirt. Maybe if he wasn’t so different he wouldn’t be crumpled in the wood chips under the plastic slide with the tattered shreds of fabrics barely clinging to his body. Katsuhiko crawls out from under the slide, standing with shaking legs and trembling fists.

Tears well in his eyes as he looks at his father. Boys don’t cry, they said as they pushed him down. Boys don’t wear pink either, they said as they ripped his shirt. But if daddy said it was okay, then he thought … Katsuhiko sniffles again, bringing his hands to his eyes. He walks slowly over to his father who is talking on the phone. His head is lowered as he rubs a bruise on his arm. Katsuhiko doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t demand to be acknowledged.

“I’ll pick up some medicine for Katsumi on the way home. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, babe, I know. It’s just a cold, babe, she’s not gonna fucking die. I’m not! Yeah, okay. Mm-hmm. He's—”

Bakugou pauses mid sentence when he lowers his gaze to see the red blood trailing down Katsuhiko’s chin. His grip tightens on his phone, and the glass cracks under his fingers.

“I’m going to call you back.”

Bakugou hangs up, crouching down before his small son.

“What the fuck happened?!” Bakugou asks in a tight voice, looking over his son’s beaten face, “Who the fuck did this?”

Katsuhiko hiccups as fat tears roll down his cheeks. He dives into his father’s chest, crying and wiping his face against Bakugou’s shirt. His tiny body is trembling as his fist grasp for his father’s comforting arms. Bakugou lifts his son, patting him on the back, trying to quell his crying the best he can.

“Hiko, I need you to tell me what happened,” Bakugou says, more gently.

“A m-mean boy c-c-called me n-names,” Katsuhiko blubbers, “A-And he m-m-m-messed up my shirt.”

“Who.”

Katsuhiko points to a boy standing at a bench before his own father. Bakugou’s eye twitches. He looks back at Katsuhiko, setting him down gently. He cups his son’s face, wiping his wet cheeks and then his nose. He shrugs off his jacket and places it over Katsuhiko’s shoulders before ruffling his short blond hair. Bakugou sits his son on the bench and gives him a stern finger, telling him to stay before, stalking over to the bully and his piece of shit father.

“Hey, fuck face!”

The father raises a greasy brow, “Are you talking to me?”

“Yeah, I’m talking to you! You need to raise that little piece of shit better!” Bakugou roars, pointing to the kid, “My son is sitting over there beat the hell up!”

The father runs his hand through his thinning hair before huffing air out of his nose, “Aren’t you a hero? You shouldn’t be talking to civilians that way.”

“I don’t give a fuck about my fucking public appearance when my son is being bullied!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have raised a little sissy boy that likes wearing pink.”

Bakugou’s eye twitches. This is about a fucking shirt? The shirt that Bakugou encouraged him to wear. He told him it was all right, and this is where it got him … a bloody nose and bruises. Bakugou’s palms spark as his blood pressure rises. His hair stands on end, teeth scraping together as his jaw tightened.

“First of all, it’s not pink, it’s salmon, you uncultured fuck!” Bakugou roars as punches his fist into the palm of his hand, setting off an explosion, “Secondly, who gives a shit if my boy wears pink! It’s a fucking shirt! He’s six years old, you prick. He can wear whatever the fuck he wants!”

Bakugou looms over the man, crimson eyes sweltering.

“I fucking dare you to say some shit about my son again,” he growls in a low voice, “Fucking do it and see what happens.”

Sweat rolls down the man’s fat neck as his breath quickens. Bakugou looks at the pathetic excuse for a man cowering before him. Sissy? Who’s the fucking sissy now? Bakugou snorts before shooting a look at the young bully.

“And you,” he growls in a softer voice, “Don’t be a fucking dick. If you’re known as the bully, it’s a fucking hard place to come back from, believe me. Understand me, brat?”

The kid nods rapidly, looking from Bakugou to his nearly unconscious father. He turns on his heel, returning to Katsuhiko still sitting quietly on the bench where he left him. Bakugou picks him up, hugging him tightly with one of his large hands on Katsuhiko’s head. He whispers something in his son’s ear and presses a quick kiss to his temple. Katsuhiko pauses, feeling tears well in his eyes again.

“Do you understand me, Hiko?”

He nods, pressing his face into the crook of his father’s neck.

“Good,” Bakugou says, “Let’s go home.”


“Wear whatever the fuck you want, love who you want, do what you like. I am your dad. I will always be behind you and I’ll never stop loving you.”

hold it against me (Pidge/Lance)

notes: just a silly little thing based on this post“my dad is a cop and i just called him and he was like “hey i have a 17 year old boy in the back of my cop car right now that i’m running him to the station” and i asked if he was cute and my dad said “Hey, my daughter wants to know if you’re cute” and the guy said “i want to say yes, sir” and my dad started laughing so hard”

I’m in a plance + mini-fic mood, so send me a prompt from my AU tag (or one of your own!) and I’ll see what I can whip up over the weekend! :)


Okay, so, like.  This was not a part of The Plan.  “The Plan” being to not be sitting in the back of a cop car at 10 PM on a Friday night, on account of trespassing.  Lance has had better ideas, probably.  Definitely.  Hindsight is 20/20, and all that.

Officer Holt seems nice enough, at least.  Granted, this is a judgment made mostly based on music taste, as Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart” is playing on the radio, and Lance figures that anyone who subconsciously bobs his head to “Turn around, bright eyes,” has to have a heart.

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Emissary

Summary: To keep the peace, Stiles agrees to be emissary to the Hale pack.

Notes: I saw some posts about emissary bonds, and I just had to write one myself. (On AO3)


Stiles had said, more than once, that it was a bad idea. That they were risking the safety of the pack, taking too much of a chance.

But he’d done it anyway.

He’d gotten himself bonded to Derek of the Hale pack, and it wouldn’t be long before they figured out that he was a fraud. That Stiles had barely had enough magic to complete the mountain ash circle required by the ritual.

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Thursday | ten

Genre: best friend!au | fluff, lil bit of quite stressful angst but happy ending

Member: Ten / reader

Word Count: 3500ish

Summary: “it was still a mistake”

“no the mistake was falling for you!”

Originally posted by yoon-to-the-oh

It’s a Thursday when they meet.

Their year 7 teacher assigns them partnered projects about the solar system and she pulls names out of a hat. They get paired together. He’s is nice, really nice and she realises he has the most beautiful smile she’s ever seen- she’s not star struck or anything, she just hasn’t seen one like it before.

He introduces himself, she hasn’t seen him around much before so she’s assuming he’s pretty new and his name is a number. “Why is your name Ten?” she asks as they’re glueing planets to pieces of strings.

He shrugs, “It’s just a nickname.”

She frowns, “Well then what’s your real name.”

He sighs, smiling knowingly because there’s no way she’ll be able to pronounce it. “ Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul.” he says, almost proudly.

She pauses, staring at him, “Yeah I like Ten.” she dismisses because even she knows any attempt at the pronunciation would be embarrassing.

He grins, “You’re funny.”

“Do you want to be friends?” She asks quietly, almost shyly and he likes her already.

He smiles again, “I have a feeling we will be for a very long time.”

She frowns, “What are you a psychic or something?” She scoffs and rolls her eyes, pretending that a few second ago she wasn’t worried about what he’d say.

“Yeah I read people’s minds.” He assures.

She narrows her eyes and glances around the room. And then she points to a classmate, “What’s he thinking?”

“That he’s got a really itchy butt.”

And the teacher separates them because they distract each other too much.



“We’re out of Chinese.”

Ten closes the door behind him, frowning as he makes his way past the kitchen to look into the open living room. She’s sitting on the floor with a plate of food in her hands and her laptop on her lap. She’s surrounded by sheets and open text books and colouring pens strewn around in an unseemingly order. “That Chinese has been there for weeks.” He scoffs, dropping his bag onto the dining room table.

She shrugs, “It’s the only thing that was in there and I’m starving.” He breathes a laugh, walking over to sit behind her on the couch. He flops down and sighs loudly, rubbing his eyes tiredly. She pauses stuffing her face. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

There’s a silence where he contemplates telling her, knowing that he will eventually because he tells her everything so he just sighs. “I got fired.”

She glares at him, “Again?” she cries, putting her plate aside to turn around and face him. Her chin barely reaches the sofa but she still manages to scare him a little. “What the hell did you do this time?” she demands.

“Nothing!” he cries cordially but when he sees the look on her face he sighs again, “Okay so I may have burnt someone’s arm.”

She frowns, “How did you do that?”

He rolls his eyes and waves her off like it’s no big deal, “They got in the way of the fire-”

“Fire?”

“It was only a small fire and I told him to move, it’s not my fault they put the toaster right under the cupboards.” he defends.

She shakes her head, “You’re insane.”

He sits up, looking down at her plate of food, “Yeah, well at least I’m not going to get food poisoning.”

She waves him off, “I’m not going to get food poisoning.”

“Look at it, there’s mould on the chicken!” he cries, reaching over to point and she bats his hand away.

“Get your own food!” she snaps. He rolls his eyes threading his fingers through her hair and sighs Her eyes flutter closed and she leans her head against the sofa. It’s quiet, the only sound is their breathing and he doesn’t think he wants to move from this very spot when they’re both so comfortable in the silence of their own thoughts. “I’m tired.” she murmurs.

He looks down at her with eyes soft around the edges of the cold look she’s grown so used to and he nods, “Me too.”

His fingers thread through the knots and his thumb brushes her cheek and a part of her feels that this isn’t what friends do, but when he makes her feel like this she doesn’t care. “Can we watch House?” She asks quietly.

He breathes a laugh, “As long as you promise not to spoil it for me.”

This time she laughs, “Well I’m sorry I used to watch ER. At least your life is safe in my hands, imagine, you could have a heart attack right now and I would know what to do.” she assures.

He rolls his eyes, “If I have a heart attack its because of all the stress you cause me.”



It’s a Thursday when Ten realises he might like her as more than a friend.

They’re in the supermarket, travelling between aisles in search of cheap food that they can easily make because neither of them is particularly good at cooking. He’s pushing the trolley and she’s sitting inside it, a lollipop in her mouth as she grabs at rice packets and biscuits and throws them into her lap. “We don’t need those.” He points out as she slides a stack of waffles somewhere next to her knee.

She wags a finger at him but doesn’t turn, “We always need waffles.” She assures.

He shakes his head, “There is literally no situation in which we would ever need waffles.”

She grabs a cowboy hat that someone disregarded in the cereal aisle and pops the lollipop out of her mouth, “well, what if the queen comes around?”

“The queen?” He scoffs, throwing in a pack of cereal that he knows she likes.

“Yeah!” She cries, “And what if she stays for breakfast and we’ve only made pancakes but she doesn’t like pancakes and we don’t have any waffles!” she holds them up to show him, “We can’t let down the queen!”

“Of which country?” He asks in response

She pauses. “England?” She suggests, “Or maybe a Russian Tzar, oh! Do you think Rasputin might come round?” She exclaims, turning to face him with this child-like grin that turns his leg to jelly.

He shakes his head with a small smile, “Rasputin’s dead.” he points out and she waves him off.

“That’s what they want you to think.” She assures, “And if he ever visits I can assure you that he is a waffle person.”

“Okay, now what your reasoning for this?” He asks, reaching forward to pull the cowboy hat from her head.

She snatches it back, “I look good in it, is that not reason enough?”

“Were not going to buy it.” he points out, “Despite the fact that it’s just you and me, we eat a lot.

She mock gasps, “But what if woody comes round for dinner?”

He rolls his eyes, turning the trolley towards the costume aisle, “Don’t you think he’d be offended by you impersonating a cowboy?”

She pauses.

“You’re right!” She cries, ripping the hat off her head. She wriggles around in the cart and clambers to her knees, facing him as she places it against his hair and begins to tie string to hold in place under his chin. “You’d look more realistic as a cowboy.” she smirks and he’s staring longer that he should.

“Can I get a tiara?” He asks, still pushing the trolley and she grins.

“Of course you can princess, any particular colour?” She questions, her eyes crinkling with her smile.

He hesitates, a finger tapping his chin as he pretends to think, “Pink or purple, whatever they’ve got.”

She nods, “Yes-sir-ie” she jokes in the most southern accent she can muster and leans out of the trolley, picking up various princess costumes, “Would you like to slip into an apple induced coma or lose a shoe on a wild night out?” She asks, holding them up to face him.

He smirks, “Depends, do I meet the love of my life?” He asks, looking her straight into the eyes before realising the fact that his heart rate is way up.

She smiles, adjusting the cowboy hat on his head, “Why, do tell me your deepest, darkest wish and the genie will make it a reality.” She says, again in a southern accent, “Is it princess Jasmine? Was it her beautiful dark eyes?”

He cocks his head leaning closer, “No.” he shakes his head, still staring, too long. She notices. “They look like yours.”

“Shut up.” She jokes and when he doesn’t say anything the smile slowly slides off her face. She hesitates, “You’re serious?” She deadpans.

He shrugs, “Same colour hair, same freckles on her cheek, same smile.” he blurts before he can even realise that this is probably a mistake.

And she stays kneeled in the trolley, their faces close enough to see the truth in each others eyes and that cowboy hat still on his face. She blinks, trying to ignore her heartbeat, “Are you banging my sister?” she raises an eyebrow.

And they laugh, but they never talk about it again.



She glares at him from her seat at the dining room table, “I told you, I can’t.”

He throws himself dramatically onto the table, whining and pretending to sob, “But please!” he begs, praying in her direction and pouting.

She shakes her head, ignoring him, “No. You asked me a week ago and my answer was no, you asked me yesterday and my answer was no and then you asked me today and guess what? My answer is still no.”

“But you promised!” he exclaims.

She stares at him almost astounded, “I did no such thing.” she assures cordially.

He wags his finger, “At 4:30 am on the Friday of last week you said that you would come with me.”

“4:30 am? On Friday? You mean when I had been awake for 52 hours?” she cries.

He holds his hands up, “You still promised.”

“I was sleep deprived!” she yells.

“It counts!” he assures.

“It does not!” she replies, “Now get off the table, you’re sitting on my work.” she demands.

He shakes his head, “Nope.” and proceeds to lie down on top of the mounds of paper and open textbooks. “You’re coming. Get your shoes it’s Latin night.”

“I don’t even dance!” she cries, running short of arguments he’ll just ignore anyway.

He shrugs, “You do with me.” he points out.

She glares at him, crossing her arms and trying her best not to blush. He looks so hopeful and pleading and the white shirt he’s wearing clings to his body like it’s always belonged there. She wrinkles her nose, shaking her head, “You’re so annoying.” she huffs angrily.

But he grins, this wide million watt smile that blinds her and makes her forget that she’s angry  because oh god he looks so beautiful. “Yes!” he cries, sitting up. She grabs a textbook and whacks him with it, “Ow! What was that for?”

“For constantly roping me into this shit!” she replies and he laughs, a laugh that makes her heart stutter and die in her chest.

She hits him again.



It’s a Thursday when they first kiss.

Its 3am and they’re still dancing in the club at Latin night. Her feet are sore and her legs ache but she’s got this huge grin on her face and her veins are intoxicated with a flood of alcohol. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at her, who knows. There are waves of bodies crushed together and music that pounds her ears until the floor shakes and the lights become a haze of colours that ripple through her mind.

He twirls her around and laughs when she does because her laugh is infectious and he can’t stop staring. “Shots?” She asks and he nods.

They weave between the plethora of bodies that nearly crush them and she reaches out to hold onto his hand so they don’t lose each other. She nearly slams into the bar and they both laugh because they’re pretty drunk, and they’ve been here so long the bartender knows what to give them.

“Three, two, one!” They shout over the music and then they lick the salt from their hands, down the shot and then stick a lemon in each others mouths. They laughing and smiling and they’re touchier than usual because they’re drunk and fuck it, boundaries disappear when they’re drunk.

His arms is around her waist and his fingers grip at the bare skin  her hip to hold her in place. She smiles and pushes the hair back from his sweaty forehead, “You’re hot.” She points out, breathing heavily because she is too.

He smirks, “Thanks, I know.”

She laughs and shoves his chest, “You’re an idiot.”

But she pushes too hard and looses her own balance but he catches her  wrapping both arms around her. Her hands land on his shoulders so she can stop herself from falling down and that, right then, is when they kiss.

Because why not?

They’re both consenting adults, neither of them will remember and when he kisses her like that she doesn’t care. His fingers are tangled in her hair and her skin is on fire, their veins feel like they’re being pricked over and over again by tiny needles.

This probably shouldn’t be happening, they’re friends- best friends. Best friends don’t kiss each other like the world is at their feet. But their kissing too deeply, too much like they care that they lose their balance and nearly fall down again. And so they back to dancing, but things change from then on.



“You haven’t spoken to him? You live together!” Johnny cries and she rolls her eyes.

“That’s another problem. I need to find an apartment.” she adds, staring down at her coffee and swirling it with the small spoon provided.

“Are you serious?” He mutters, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and middle finger. “You can’t just move out.”

She shrugs, “Why not? He has six hours of lectures on Thursday, I can pack up some stuff, stay at yours.”

He scoffs a laugh, “You are not staying at mine.”

She frowns, leaning forward, “Why not?”

Because-” he hisses and then pauses, taking a deep breath. “Because you can’t just not talk to your best friend for a week and then move out without any explanation.”

“Fine, I’ll leave a note.” she surrenders, waving her arms.

“Are you serious? Jesus you’re just as bad as each other.” He huffs angrily, leaning back in his chair because he’s sick of both of them.

She pauses and stops swirling her coffee, “What do you mean? He’s spoken to you?” she demands, her eyes wide.

He waves her off, “I’m not playing messenger between the two-”

“Does he hate me?” She asks quietly, looking back down at her coffee.

Johnny purses his lips and sighs, “Of course he doesn’t hate you, you’re his best friend.” he says softly, because he can tell she’s worried.

She swallows, looking out of the window, “I need to move out.” She determine.

Johnny throws his arm up, “Jesus Christ do something.” he begs.



Is a Thursday when they finally realise they’ve been in love with each other for years.

She goes back home when he’s at his six hours of lectures, but she’s still quiet anyway because she doesn’t really feel like she going home, she feels like she’s stepping into forbidden territory. She tip toes in, closing the door quietly behind her, “What are you doing?” A voice says.

She jumps, holding her hand to her heart and squeezing her eyes shut. But slowly she opens them, landing on Ten. He’s sitting on one end of the sofa with a book in his hand and a frown on his face. He looks tired, bags under his eyes and they’ve lost their usual glint. “I’m just uh…” she trails off, pointing to her room

She doesn’t finish that sentence, “Where have you been?” he asks with no particular tone of voice.

She swallows, dropping her keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter. “Busy.” She states, “I’ve had this project due so I’ve been living in the library for the past week and-”

“Stop lying to me.” He interrupts sadly, closing the book. He looks disappointed, like he expected better from her. “I think…” he trails off, scratching his head, “I think we need to talk.”

“About what? The state of our economy?” She smirks, laughing to hide the fear behind her words, “You know, China has had some fascinating developments in-”

“Us.”

“Well no actually, they’ve been working on a new train that is elevated above the city of-”

Hey!” He interrupts again, standing up this time. “You being in perpetual denial does not help anyone.” he scoffs, approaching her.

She rolls her eyes, “I’m not in denial, denial of what?”

“Do you remember that night?” He asks like he’s making sure she’s genuinely just ignoring him for another reason. He sounds so scared and tired that she opens her mouth but finds nothing to say.

She swallows, looking down at her feet, “It was a mistake.”

He shakes his head and scoffs bitterly, “No. It was a long time coming.”

She frowns, “What are you talking about?” She demands angrily-, but deep down she knows so maybe she really is in denial.

He cocks his head, “Wow, you really are oblivious.” he shakes his head and sighs, “there have been multiple occasions on which we’ve basically admitted how we felt and still neither of us did anything.”

She sneers, “We were drunk, people do dumb shit when they’re drunk.”

He shakes his head, “Sometimes we were sober.”

“It was still a mistake!” She cries, suddenly angry because he’s making her feel bad now.

“No, the mistake was falling for you.” he snaps back immediately.

Her neck snaps up, “What?” She breathes.

He cocks his head with a small smile, “Come on babe. You know what i’m talking about.” he assures, his fingers hooking apprehensively through hers.

She frowns, curling her fingers with his until she feels like he won’t let go. She steps closer to him and he sucks in a slow and steady breath, his eyes widening at the look she’s giving him. There’s this soft smile on her face and her eyes are shaded with hope and wonder and she swallows, “How long?” she asks quietly.

He laughs, “Do you remember when we went to prom and you wore that purple dress and the necklace I got you and the most jaw dropping smile i’ve ever seen another human wear.” he pauses, reaching up slowly and placing a hand on her cheek, “I realised that… there’s no-one else like you.” He smiles, “The day I met you was the day everything became a hundred times clearer, like I finally understood the reason i was put on this earth.”

She smiles as his arms come to wrap around her waist, and she feels like her skin is on fire wherever he touches her. “What happens now?”

And he kisses her again.

Its like poison in her veins, like she’s sliding down a cloud and his smile is the rainbow. “Now-” he breathes against her lips, “Now I think we need to establish something.” he states in all seriousness.

“Oh, okay, what?” She asks carefully.

“Rasputin is dead, and the Queen is not a waffle person” he blurts. “I bet you the queen only eats kale for breakfast or something.”

She looks aghast, “Now hold on a second-”

So I thought to myself: but why does he get a new jacket? And then this happened.  But one possibility of many.  I blame @acrobat-elle for this.  Starts pre-new-jacket.


Stepping quietly across the living room floor, Killian peers out the nearest window.  It’s still the middle of February, and as he’s gathered, winter never seems to end in this realm, as surely as summer persists in Neverland.  He gives the fire a stir before he rests against the windowsill, the divots in the delicately carved wood sure to press a pattern into his flesh.  But there’s something about the quiet, the illusion of total solitude, the complete and utter darkness, that’s remarkably comforting. So he stays, and presses the palm of his hand against the glass, where the wind and the biting cold have begun to draw sharp, frozen figures.

“Your hand’s gonna freeze to the glass.”

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anonymous asked:

“yes, i know this is a bar but you’re a rlly hot bartender and i panicked and said “cHOCOLATE MILK” when you asked me what i wanted to drink, now i just want to crawl away and hide forever” au? :")

Phichit stands up for five seconds.

(Five seconds.)

(And everything goes wrong.)

It doesn’t start when the bartender speaks, no, it starts when he turns around. His hair is silver, which had been distracting enough when it hadn’t been paired with that jawline, those sparkling blue eyes, the smirk that is directed at Yuuri and makes his toes curl involuntarily. And then, in the dim lighting of the run-down bar that Phichit had dragged them to, Yuuri watches the bartender step forward and casually lean one elbow on the counter, resting his chin on his palm.

“Can I get you anything?” he asks, and Yuuri adds his sultry voice to the list he is currently composing of deadly traits that this man possesses.

Yuuri doesn’t know much about alcohol. He drinks it, sure, but he isn’t one to head out to bars or pubs or anything of that nature on a regular basis. On the rare occasion that he does, Phichit typically orders for him.

(But Phichit stood up for five seconds, remember?)

“Do you have, um…” He glances around, desperate. A martini, he thinks. Or is that too classy? Whiskey? Beer? A margarita? No, none of it feels right, but the bartender’s eyes are poring into him and his toes are still curling in the most uncomfortable way in his too-tight dress shoes that he’d borrowed from Phichit because his are back in Japan and his palms are starting to get clammy and he unconsciously looks for Phichit who is gone, gone, and can’t be here to tell him what drink would impress the bartender, who is still staring at him because he hasn’t said a single word and—

“Chocolate milk?” Yuuri asks in a short breath.

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Bad Day

Pairing: Archie x Reader

Request: Could i request 26, 23 and 18 with archie or juggie?

Prompt:
#18 “Open this.” - “Can you say please?”
#23 “Babe, I’m sorry.” - “Suck my ass.”
#26 “Is it that time of the month?” - “You literally ask me that whenever I’m mad at you!”

Everything Tag: @betty-coopers-number-one-stan, @1amluke, @pissheadofficial, @teen-river-wolf, @itsjaynebird, @nooneshoney, @carouselof-progress, @apocalypticangell, @welc0met0thedarkside, @sparklingriverdale, @gryffndor, @jugheads-lawyer, @prettyboydean, @cherylblossomisaqueen, @sgarrett49, @jugheadjns

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bailci  asked:

solangelo first kiss? (where neither of them have ever kissed anyone before)

read on ao3

It’s during the summer. Another one of those days when Will drags Nico outside to enjoy the sunshine and soak up the vitamin D.

Nico complains, because of course he does, but really he doesn’t feel any sort of reluctance. Even when the sun burns his legs, because they’re clothed in black jeans, and he has to squint when looking up at Will. Because he’s tall, and the sun is bright, and it kind of obscures his vision.

Not that he mentions that part.

“So what’s your actual plan here?” Nico asks, trying not to flush because Will’s hand is tight around his wrist, pulling him forward. The two of them are making their way through the Camp Half-Blood grounds, and when you get past the cabins and the hoards of people just arriving back for summer, there is so much green.

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to you, i thee wed (chapter nine)

They didn’t know they were marrying each other until the bride got to the altar. And then panic ensued. Married at First Sight AU.

(AO3//FF.net)

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

WC: 8.5K

thanks @booksfullofme for the edits :)


The morning air is crisp, an icy wind settling into her lungs as Marinette gazes into the Atlantic Ocean shining brightly from the warm sun. They have oddly been blessed by good weather despite the first snowstorm that trapped them here. Not that Marinette is complaining; Faroe Islands—Vagar, to be exact—has been wonderful and a breath of fresh air.

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The One With the T-shirt

so I attempted to write an Irish accent in this one? It was…different and a little bit of a nightmare. I just want to say thanks for all your kind words on my last imagine, yall are great. and also this is another break up au

Finn Balor x Reader

“we bumped into each other in the street and you were grinning like an cocky asshole the whole time so I stalked off to only realize I’m wearing your shirt”

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MIRRORS. | M

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Smut/Angst + Vampire!Taehyung

Warnings: blood play, graphic depictions of death/violence/murder, suicidal thoughts/depression

Word Count: 7,734

Description: The red tint of his eyes were laced with a deadness that perfectly reflected your own. The familiarity kept you returning to him over and over again, you thought that maybe it was just so you could have someone who understood all of the pain. 

A/N: This scenario was inspired by the lyrics from “Mirrors” by PVRIS

NOTE [!]: this was originally supposed to be multiple parts, but i’ve realized that i just don’t think i’ll ever find the motivation to come back and finish this, sorry guys :// i deleted the ending, so now it seems like there’s at least semi-closure at the end (even if the ending isn’t the best) instead of leaving you guys off with that god awful cliffhanger from before. 

cr.


You watched the fragmented colors of orange and red reflect off of the clouds as the sun started to descend below the horizon. The light fall breeze whipped through your hair carrying the invisible scent of your body down into the quickly approaching night life of the city; that gust of air might as well have been a bullet to your head.

They were already stirring. You watched from the rooftop as the citizens ran into their homes, windows were being barred, and the streetlamps suddenly erupted as they prepared to become spotlights for the unlucky; for you.

You looked out at your city one last time, the vantage point of the roof giving you a complete view of the entirety of it all. The corner of your mouth crept into a smile as you said a final goodbye to the miles of spread out land that held all of the beautiful and heart breaking memories from your past twenty years of life.

By the time you made it down the five flights of stairs, and opened the door that led into a dimly lit alleyway, darkness had already imposed itself upon the sky. Even though you had completely accepted the consequences of what you were doing tonight, it still didn’t stop the pang of fear that coursed through your body at the sight of the pitch black scene above you. It was a sight you’d only seen a handful of times in your life, and the memories that accompanied it made you tremble with anxiety.

Shrill screams, blood, maniacal laughter, desperation.

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anonymous asked:

imagine on Valentine's Day,,aka Derek Malik Nurse's (loml) birthday, and everyone is super focused on their SO (Derek isn't mad, he's used to it) he goes the whole day thinking everyone forgot until he gets invited over to the haus for team dinner and is surprised w a birthday party, and this boy is so overwhelmed he's like lowkey almost in tears. he asks who planned it and everyone looks at dex, who had the date circled w hearts all year. This is pre-relationship but they're Screwed

this is the cutest prompt ever and it jumped right to the top of my list ooops hehe. this starts off kind of boring because nursey’s day also starts off boring, so stick in there lmao. i liked writing this a lot, so enjoy!

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I meant to post this on april fool’s day because my writing is a joke :) But I’m late, so here’s a joke posted on the wrong day.

Summary: Keith, who just happens to be coming down with a cold, is forced to wait out a thunderstorm with Lance.


“You’re still coming to pick me up, right?”

Lance’s voice is questioning, insecure, as if he doesn’t already know the answer. Keith sighs into the phone, before sniffling once, absently rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. “I thought we already went over this.”

“I know, but I called you and you weren’t picking up–”

“I was in class,” Keith retorts, pressing the phone to his ear with one hand as he slings his backpack over his shoulders with the other. He twists away briefly to cough into his shoulder. “The lecturer ended a little later than usual, that’s all.”

He can hear Lance’s hum of assent on the other end. “So, you are coming, then?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Keith pauses outside of the university building, scanning the parking lot for his motorbike, before he spots it parked in the far left corner. “Have you been waiting for a long time?”

“The meeting ended ten minutes ago,” Lance responds, “so, not really.”

“That’s good,” Keith unfastens his helmet from where it’s been clipped around the handlebars, then fits it over his head, brushing loose strands of hair from his eyes. “….I’m heading off. I‘m going to have to hang up now, okay?”

“Okay,” Lance pauses. “I’ll see you in twenty minutes?”

“Fifteen.” Keith fishes a keychain out of his pocket, pausing to find the right key before inserting it into the ignition. “See you there.”

The engine starts up, a low rumble of sound and motion, and Keith presses the end call button before sliding the phone back into his pocket. He sniffles, before straightening slightly, navigating the bike carefully out of the parking lot.

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Runt of the Litter

Based on a Prompt by iggycat-the-scottish-fold: “One of my favourite headcanons is the one where Reader bonds with Echo, despite Echo being the loneliest raptor. It reeeeally confuses Owen… maybe you can make something out of this!” 

There was just something about Echo. Even when she was with the pack, she seemed disconnected somehow. You never knew if this was intentional or not, but your heart always went out to her. One day, you were asked to lock them up in their restraints and while the others fought it, Echo just looked at you with her dark eyes. You’d swear they were looking into your soul. She made a soft noise when you pet her snout and started whispering things to her about how sweet and beautiful she was. Ever since then, you two have had a sort of bond.

You grew up in a household with five children, and you were the youngest, so you know what it’s like to not be able to keep up with your siblings. You found a friend in Echo, always sneaking her extra treats and calling her ‘pretty girl’ when you’d see her. You even spent some nights during thunderstorms out in the safety cage to soothe her; the thunder really scares her.

Now, you stand here, petting her through her restraints just like the very first time. You croon to her about how well she did today and how proud her daddy must be of her when you hear the man in question come up behind you.

“Her Daddy huh?” he asks, teasingly.

“Well, yeah. I mean for all intents and purposes that’s what you are to them.” You say with a shrug, “You might not see it like that but-“

“Hey, I didn’t say I’m not.” He says, putting his hands up in the air as if surrendering. “Just surprised you see it that way, too.”

This makes you smile. “Yeah, well, Echo here seems like she’s doing really well in her training. Progressing every day I’d say.”

“She is, yeah.” He says fondly, before reaching to pet her too. “She’s always been so…” he pauses searching for a word, “Shy, I guess. Just never really interacted much with the others. Or anyone else for that matter.” He says, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Well, I know what it’s like to be the runt of the litter.” You chuckle as you turn to look at her, “Us girls gotta stick together, isn’t that right Pretty Girl.” At this, she makes a soft sound, almost like a purr and Owen smiles at you.

“You put a lot of extra time into work here; I can really see that you care about them.” He gets a strange look on his face that you can’t exactly figure out. “You should let me take you out sometime. You know, to say thanks.” You now realize what it was. He was nervous. Owen being nervous about asking you out, that’s something you don’t see every day.

“Well thanks,” you say, deciding you won’t let him get away with it that easily, “But I love working here, and I love spending time with my girls” you emphasize this with a kiss on Echo’s snout. “No need to say thanks.”

He looks disappointed at first, but then you see the look of determination and that’s when you get a little excited.

“Well, then, maybe,” He says, putting his arm against the wall and leaning a little closer to you. “You should let me take you out because I just really want to go out with you.” He doesn’t seem nervous anymore, really having turned up the charm. You smile at his smirk and raise your eyebrows, turning to Echo again.

“I don’t know girl, what you think?” you ask, then fake a whisper “Should I give him a chance?” You give him a smile but then begin laughing as, to your surprise, Echo lets out another purring noise.

“Seems like you’re going to be taking me out, then Mr. Grady,” you say, winking at him. “Help me get her out of this thing and we can go.”

He begins to help with all the latches and you smile to yourself as you watch her run back to the tree line. She stops, just before disappearing and turns to you letting out a strange noise you’ve never heard before. Owen puts his hand on your lower back and says, “I think that means have fun.”

You turn to him once more, placing a hand on his chest and giving him a mischievous smile. “Oh, I intend to.”

Thanks for Reading!!