this is when i start to wonder if i actually need to stop

some self-care/mental health tips for the upcoming school year

with school coming soon or already starting for some people i figured i’d share some of my tips for a healthier lifestyle. i know in the past i’ve struggled so much with being good to myself once school starts, both mentally, emotionally, and physically!

keep a clean room 

i know how hard this is. i’m absolutely awful at it, even in the summer but it really makes the biggest difference. coming home to a mess when your life is already stressful and messy enough just makes things worse. i know when i have a clean space i’m way more productive and at peace with my situation.

take a break from social media

just doing this every once in awhile makes the hugest difference. social media is a wonderful world but it’s easy to get caught up in how everyone is doing things without you or having more fun or how someone’s prettier or whatever. it’s not worth it. i’ve learned that just deleting the apps for even a few hours can make my mental state 10x better. it’s important to realize that while people are out doing things all the time, you can never be as fun as all the 162 people you follow combined.

don’t be afraid to invite people out

one of the biggest things i struggle with is being social, simply because i overthink inviting people to do things with me too much and just wait to be invited by someone else instead. remember that even if someone says they can’t do something, it’s not the end of the world. at least you opened up a possibility!!! by being someone who invites others to do things, people will feel more appreciated and like you actually want to hang out with them! but also always save time for yourself as well!

create a self-care routine with motivation

by giving yourself some type of reward to wash your face, brush your teeth and shower, such as only watching your favorite tv show afterwards, it will feel a bit easier to accomplish the tasks that seem simple but can be terribly hard, especially if you suffer from depression. i’ve learned that combining things into one task also makes it easier, such as once you get in the shower, do everything. wash your face, brush your teeth, shave, all in the shower. it makes self-care so much easier.

get outside, stay out of bed

laying in bed is the best thing ever, i know, but it can be so easy to get in there and never get out. this is my biggest bad habit. i feel more productive even just sitting on the couch. my bed is like a black hole of lost motivation. go outside for twenty minutes a day if you can. sunlight makes things a little better and staying inside all day does nothing for you.

do one thing that scares you everyday, big or small.

i’m someone who has struggled with social anxiety for years now, but i’m slowly getting better because i’m making a conscious (and very terrifying effort) everyday. this won’t work for everyone, i know, but it’s helped me a little bit. i try to challenge myself everyday to do one thing that scares me, whether it’s asking someone to do something after school or agreeing to get coffee with a friend you’re not super close to yet, or even just making conversation with someone next to me in class. don’t push yourself too far but don’t make zero effort either.

cut the negative language/mindset

anytime you have a negative thought find a reverse positive. even saying “i’m not happy with how my hair looks but my ass looks great in these jeans” is better than saying “i look awful today”. stop the constant internal bullying! think of it this way, if your best friend said the things you say to yourself, how would you feel? you’re your own best friend, so cut the shit! compliment yourself like you do your best friend. complimenting myself and finding things i find beautiful on my own body even once a day has increased my confidence exponentially. a negative language towards yourself leads to a negative mindset.

find someone who motivates you

if you need motivation to work out, study, anything, find a buddy. having someone to do things with and hold you accountable makes a world of difference. this summer i got together with a friend and made a deal that we would work out 2-3 times a week. it worked so much better than if i had just made that goal for myself because she was always there to text me to ask to workout when we needed to but i lacked the desire. and i did the same for her. now we actually both got a job at a gym together this fall and are working out consistently because we have that mutual  accountability with each other! plus just having someone you enjoy seeing makes doing the hard task more fun!

accept your individuality

you don’t need to look like society’s ideal of beautiful. there’s millions of types of flowers, and just because one kind is pretty to someone, does that make all the others ugly? no. there’s tons of species of dogs too and they all look totally different. is a poodle ugly just because a golden retriever is cute? NO. your individuality is you. everyone is beautiful in the very own unique way. don’t try to look like someone ellse. your beauty is not measured by how perfect your features are. 

drink some fucking water

and eat some food too

understand that a bad week doesn’t mean a bad life

we’re all going to go through those weird ass time periods where it feels like everything sucks and nothing can go right. accept that although it’s pretty bad right now, it won’t be forever. 

good luck with this school year everyone! hope my tips help even just one person. take care of yourselves, kiddos.

"The Types Based on my Experience" - an ENFP

INTJ
- Has too many extra curricular
- Low- key brags about achievements
- Will and won’t hesitate to roast someone.
- They type of person to read during lunch
- Books.
- Just a little bit clingy, but in the best way
- “Let me sleep— I only slept an hour last night.”


INTP
- Talks to them-self sometimes
- Likes to make random google searchers
- Master at BSing
- Why do they know so much about obscure concepts and theories?
- My random facts buddy
- “Have you heard of cerebropathy?”

ENTJ
- Tries to control me (for the greater good I guess)
- Great at logic puzzles
- If there was an apocalypse— I would want to paired with them.
- Seems like they got their life together
- A bit of a neat freak
- Will not deal with your shit, but will still help you?
- “I need more coffee to deal with all of you people.”

ENTP
-FITE ME
- Is super intimidating at first glance
- Secretly a softy
- will not hesitate to start a debate
- loves politics
- If you tell them a fact they ask where you got it
- Likes to read Edgar Allen Poe and romance novels
- “ Are you sure? Where did you read that?”

INFJ
- Nice friend
- Poker face
- Everyone thinks that they have chill
- has no chill
- Loves cats and babies
- Great listener
- Has too many feelings and bottles them up
- “OMG!!! I LOVE MUGS!!! I LOVE PURPLE!!!! LOOK AT THIS ITS A PURPLE MUG!!!!”

INFP
- Easily flustered
- Will hate you and you will never know
- Once you know them— they’ll argue with you about their opinions.
- Anime nerd
- Wears over-sized glasses
- Gestures a lot when talking
- Roasts me about everything
- Has an unhealthy obsession for cats
- Self deprecation 101
- “ I don’t know what your tal- *gestures and hits someone with arm*- OMG!!! I am so sorry.”

ENFJ
- Identity crisis all day everyday
- Likes to do power poses
- Will do random acts of kindness
- Knits
- Soft
- Really imaginative
- Will do stupid stuff to make a sad friend happy again
- You can’t not like them
- “A toast to spongebob and Bob Marley.”

ENFP (not me— another ENFP)
- Loves to art
- Procrastinates kinda(?). It just takes them a long time to do their work
- Is very smol
- Low-key manipulative
- Great at fake accents
- Has the voice of an angel
- Awesome dancer
- “ Oh look, it’s a birb. *makes chicken noises*”

ISTJ
- Is in all my advanced classes
- Gets annoyed with me really easily
- Likes to bake
- Has ten sources to back up one fact
- Will binge watch Crash Course
- Secretly loves bird memes
- Determined
- “Baking is a science. It isn’t just measuring and mixing— it’s watching the chemical re- *rants about for ten minutes*”

ISFJ
- Literally a cinnamon roll
- Are too caring
- Seriously they are going to get hurt one day
- Mom friend
- When they get mad everyone freaks out
- Will fight you if you hurt their loved one
- “Are you okay? Do you need a band- aid? I have a first aid kit in my backpack.”


ESTJ
- Law and order
- Is practically the teacher
- Strong moral base
- Does not tolerate lying
- Can see your soul
- Loves dark chocolate and hot chocolate
- Eats the same thing for lunch everyday
- Will lay down the law
- “I just told them to kindly leave me alone because their fake personalities were annoying me.”

ESFJ
- Will appear out of no-where
- Social Butterfly
- EVERYONE knows them
- Loves to sing, but is sadly tone deaf
- Can do really intricate pranks and succeed
- Teachers pet, but not nerdy in any way
- “Hi! My name’s ESTJ. What’s your weight— I mean, name?”

ISTP
- Loves workshop
- Is great at video games
- Everyone thinks they listen to punk rock, but they actually listen to Country music
- Can be bossy
- Likes to wear flannel
- Is really chill
- “I had one job, to finish my homework. Did I do it? Nope.”

ISFP
- Can’t art
- Can write like there is not tomorrow
- Can also play piano really well, but they never took lessons
- Have eyes filled with wonder
- Great at makeup
- Has good fashion sense
- Thinks shoes are a social construct.
- They have a bucket list written
- Has great stories
- “I once went to an upscale hotel and hijacked the penthouse level with my friends.”

ESTP
- Loves to play pranks and do stupid stuff
- Is flexible af
- Laughs weirdly
- Has the best ideas
- Smart, but really lazy
- p r o c r a s t i n a t i o n
- “Move I’m gay.”

ESFP
- Acts like they had five cups of coffee
- Really likes unicorns
- Is a theatre kid
- Wait for it…. they never stop quoting Hamilton
- Great at lying
- Really, really funny
- Loves everything smol
- Everyone loves them
- “Bill Nye the science guy– history has its eyeesss ON YOOOOUUUUUU.”

Free The Animal

Word Count: 6k

Genre: Smut, Angst (will I ever stop being emo?)

Author’s Note: You ever forget that you’re a fanfic writer then you write a fic so bad you remember how much of a hack you are? Yeah welcome to my fic :’D

dom!jungkook- fuckboi!jungkook- fuckbuddy relationship- dirty talk- thigh riding mention because damn even I am not immune to his thighs- inspired by Sia’s song and part of the song drabble game. You can find links to the rest of them on my masterlist

Loving You To Death (Sequel)

There he was with his hands up some girl’s skirt, grinding on her like he was trying to fuck her through their clothes, the fucking pig. You huff and turn to your friend who gives you an exasperated look, “___, just go and grab him by the dick and tell him he can’t fucking do that.”

“He can do whatever the fuck he wants to do, even if that is a bleach blonde bitch with a tan that makes her look like an Oompa Loompa.” That was pretty low, you admit. It wasn’t the girl’s fault that Jungkook had chosen her for the night. But seriously, there was a limit to tanning, this was just harmful to the eyes.

“No, he can’t because you’re together.” Your friend, Hwasa, sounds pretty fed up with you.

“No, we’re not. We’re just fuck buddies and we agreed that we’re not exclusive right from the start.” Why wasn’t she understanding this? You’d explained it to her a thousand times.

“I don’t care what bullshit you told each other. All I care about is what I see, and that is two idiots constantly doing all they can to piss each other off because they can’t communicate like adults.”

“What are you even talking about? Jungkook is not trying to piss me off. He’s just being himself. Which is admittedly annoying in and of itself but you know…”

“Then why did he do nothing the past three days but play video games while you were off galavanting with Jin, only to start making out with some girl the minute you make an appearance?”

“He did?” You asked surprised, only to check yourself back and shrug it off. “I don’t know, he must have just not felt like it.”

“Oh my god, save me from these two idiots.” Hwasa cries then takes you by the shoulder and starts shaking you, “He’s fucking jealous because you took Jin to meet your family and not him so he’s trying to piss you off. Why? Because he likes you. And you’re pissed off. Why? Because you like him. Now can you get that through your thick skull or do I have to beat it into you?”

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#couch #laughter #snitch

Prompts: @hedwig4evr (lucky number one! <3)
Author: @queenofthyme

Draco walked into the eighth year common room with his head downcast as always. He spoke to no-one. No-one spoke to him. 

He was making a beeline for his favourite armchair right by the fire - it was always empty, everyone knew it was his - when he heard it. Laughter. 

He knew exactly whose laughter and exactly where from. There was no need to look up. But as always, he did.

Harry Potter and his friends, Weasley and Granger, were in their usual spots on the widest, comfiest couch in the room, tucked into a corner by the dormitory stairs. They were all laughing, Potter the loudest of all, while taking turns to grab at the golden snitch zooming above their heads. 

Potter had beaten Draco in the Gryffindor vs Slytherin Quidditch match in the morning. Again. Draco had been training constantly - it’s not like he had much else to do, or anyone else to hang out with - and yet he had still been defeated. It was disheartening. He wondered whether he should just give up on Quidditch. Maybe on Hogwarts too. It’s not like anyone wanted him here.

He was still staring when Potter looked up, his eyes falling on Draco’s. Draco quickly turned his head - making it more obvious he’d been staring - and continued on towards his chair. It was no couch, but it would do.

“Malfoy!” Potter’s voice called out behind him. 

Draco hesitated before turning back. He didn’t want to look too eager. Potter probably just wanted to gloat about the match. 

But when he finally did turn to Potter, the git was already laughing again with his friends again, paying no mind to Draco. 

Draco stomped over, feeling very much like a dog called by his owner. He didn’t like it. He crossed his arms and stared down at the three Gryffindors. 

Potter stood up, the snitch following his movements. He held out a hand. Draco stared at it. 

“Good game, ” Potter said.

Weasley and Granger had stopped laughing. Everything was silent. Draco kept staring at Potter’s hand. It was shaking a little. 

Just when Potter looked like he was about to drop his hand, Draco shot out his own and caught it in a firm shake. Potter’s hand was clammy. 

Potter smiled, as broad as his face. “You flew brilliantly today. It made me nervous.”

“You always fly well,” Malfoy said in return. It came out sounding forced but he meant it. 

“Thanks.” Potter, unlike Draco, had no problem sounding genuine. 

They stood there silently for no longer than a beat but it seemed a very slow, awkward one. Draco nodded politely and moved to walk away. 

“Wait,” Potter called out, louder than required. 

Draco paused. “Yes?”

Another silence. Draco supposed the laughter would start up again as soon he left. His presence seemed to bring everything down. 

As there didn’t seem to any further words coming out of Potter’s mouth, Draco was left to stand there awkwardly. His eyes were drawn to the golden snitch fluttering by Potter’s ear. It was hardly moving now. He could easily reach out and take it. 

So he did. Or at least he tried. The snitch seemed to know he was coming and zoomed to the side at the last millisecond. Draco tried again, the snitch few away. Frustrated, he reached out with both hands, but only continue to grasp air. 

He heard Weasley snigger. His face reddened. He looked like an idiot now. His only saving grace was to actually catch the damn snitch. So he tried again. Nothing. 

Granger was soon laughing too and Draco grew angry. He didn’t like being made the fool. Especially not by the perfect golden trio. 

One last time, he told himself. But once again, his hands closed over nothing, the wings of the snitch just grazing his fingers, always out of reach. 

That’s when the sound hit him: Potter’s laughter. Except this time he was right here with him and not only that, Draco was causing it. And it didn’t sound cruel, or mocking. It didn’t sound like Potter was laughing at him at all. No, it was bubbly and bright and basically what Draco imagined sunshine to sound like. 

Draco dropped his gaze to take in Potter’s face. It really was a sight when he laughed - full and joyful and pure. Draco never wanted to look away. 

His anger had faded, almost as soon as Potter had started laughing, but now Draco’s face was red for another reason entirely. He needed to stop looking at Potter immediately. But he couldn’t. 

When Potter stopped laughing, he seemed to finally find his words from earlier. “You should sit with us.”

Draco blinked. Sit at Potter’s couch? With Granger and Weasley? Surely that’s not what he meant. 

Weasley seemed to have the same though because he blurted out, “What?”

Granger shushed him. 

Draco just stared at Potter. He had no idea how to respond to such a suggestion. He wanted to ask why but the words never came out. Potter seemed to understand regardless.

He leaned in to Draco, close enough that Draco could smell his shampoo, and whispered: “I think you need a laugh.”

Draco agreed.

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Skyline {VII}

Originally posted by tom-cinnamonroll-holland

Warnings: Language, panic attack

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 3.1k

A/N: Guys!!!! This is the last part of Skyline.  Like, for real this time.  I’m so sad to see it end, but I’m also so happy that it’s had such success, and I can’t thank you guys enough for that.  You are all so so wonderful, and you have all my love.  As usual, I want to give a shout out to Zoe and Jen for reading my drafts and helping me edit and brainstorm, as well as encouraging me to write.  As for all of you, I hope you’ll forgive me for all the angst that I’ve hit you guys with (remember when Skyline was self-indulgent fluff lmao), and I really hope this makes up for it a bit.  In other news, tonight is the Spidereyhes Sleepover!!!!!!!!  All the info on the sleepover can be found here, as well as info about the livestream, which will start at 7pm PST.  I’ll post the link on here!! Zoe, Jen, and I will be discussing all kinds of things, answering questions, and talking about Skyline, so be sure to drop by!!! Also, if you have any questions about Skyline or anything else that you want answered, send it in!!!! It’s not too late yall.  Again, thank you so much, and I hope you’ve enjoyed Skyline as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it.

skyline: a mixtape

{masterlist}

{part i} {part ii} {part iii} {part iv} {part v}

Sitting up in your bed, you stared at the window, not sure of how to react to seeing Spider-Man’s masked face through the glass.  Throwing back your covers, you quietly walked over to the window, grabbing a hoodie that Peter had lent you as you passed your desk.  Sliding the glass panel up, you climbed out onto the metal fire escape, slipping on and zipping up Peter’s hoodie to protect you from the cold.

The superhero stood where he had first stood, the night he saved your life and blew up Vizzini’s all those months ago.  And there, to his right, were the flower pots that he had tripped over the first time he came back for you.  Those stairs were where you would sit and draw while he watched your fingers fly across the page, amazed at the pictures you created.  Behind him was the railing that you would lean against as you looked at the Queens skyline together.  This fire escape was your entire relationship condensed, the one location where you were allowed to be with each other.  If you used your imagination, you could almost see every single night playing out in front of your eyes.  Spider-Man, with a bendy straw underneath his mask.  Spider-Man, attempting to draw you in the moonlight.  Spider-Man, his hand on your waist and the other in your hair. Spider-Man.

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Scratching the Itch

Square Filled- Friends to lovers

Rating- Explicit

Tags- Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader, smut,

Word Count- 2300ish

A/N: For @spnabobingo. Hope you enjoy! XOXO


Hunting’s a total blast until you hit your heat. In between each cycle, you only know how much fun it is to catch a case, to get on the road and feel the rumble of Dean’s car beneath you, all open windows and loud music. The fights are always rough, but in the way that makes you feel strong, in a way that makes your muscles ache with anticipation just to think about it. And of course, there’s the feeling of knowing that you saved someone, that you stopped one small little evil and left the world a little better for it.

But then your heat hits, and you remember. Hunting is not ideal for an Omega.

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“Thanks, Maggie. Love you,” Dex says, and Nursey’s heart stops beating for a moment. His lungs refuse to inhale or exhale. The muscles in his legs forget that they are holding up an actual person.

Then Dex’s eyes catch his, going wide at the interruption, and Nursey somehow finds it in himself to pretend that everything is exactly the same now as it was thirty seconds ago.

He looks away and heads for the fridge, his limbs remembering themselves once more.

“Hey, uh, sorry, I gotta go. Can I call you back?” Dex says into his cell phone on the other side of the Haus kitchen.

Nursey rummages through several pounds of butter in search of something edible. He silently repeats to himself his old mantra from Andover, from when he could barely see straight for the tears welling up in his eyes at every backhanded remark or micro-aggression. The mantra he used to train his emotions not to show themselves at every turn, the way they had done with abandon throughout his childhood.

“Write it down instead,” his sister suggested, when he confided to her his inability to keep things bottled up. And, after a time, that strategy seemed to work.

Write it down instead, he still tells himself now, at the end of his Sophomore year at Samwell, whenever the world becomes too much, whenever he feels suddenly as though his façade of always okay always fine always chill isn’t strong enough to handle the current situation.

Nursey begins to silently run through the words again in his head now, trying very hard not to analyze why he needs to.

“Um, so. How much of that did you hear?” Dex asks him, and luckily Nursey’s got his head buried so far into the freezer that he doesn’t have to cover his pained grimace.

“Not much, man, don’t worry about it. Hey, you think Bitty would murder us if we used his new oven for store-brand taquitos?”

He barely hears Dex’s reply, though, too busy faking normalcy. Too busy wondering who it was on the other end of Dex’s phone call that got to hear the words “I love you” from the guy, and so casually offered up that Dex must say it to her daily.

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Inspired by today’s eclipse and for @sterekwritingroom‘s flash event.

–––––––

The first group of weres pass through Beacon Hills on a Thursday. Stiles probably wouldn’t notice except that he’s spent the past year and a half hanging out almost exclusively with supernatural beings and that… well, ok, these guys aren’t exactly subtle. They tilt their heads almost in sync as he passes by them –– heading in to pay cash at the gas station while they pile back into their packed SUV. Noses flare, stances shift, and Stiles has about point five seconds to plan a bolt back to the Jeep before one of them’s announcing “Don’t trouble your Alpha; we’re just passing north for the event.” And then they’re back in the SUV and gone.

So… yeah, not to diminish Stiles’ awesome deductive skills here but… not subtle.

The second sighting happens before school on Friday, when Stiles ducks into the Dunkin’ Donuts for some much needed coffee and practically trips over a trio of sugar-high toddlers. One of them, wearing what looks like a home-painted t-shirt, decorated with a slightly uneven yellow circle, is midway through whining “Momma, we’re gonna miss the––“ when she stops in her tracks to stare up at him.

Stiles blinks down at her, the door perched against his elbow.

“Say ‘scuse me,” the boy next to her murmurs. It’s too early for this, brain crawling the sludge-slow of non-coffee through his system, and Stiles isn’t sure which of them he’s talking to.

“Excuse me,” he says and all three immediately shuffle, staring wide enough it makes Stiles’ eyes ache for them. He starts past, scrubbing a hand across his jaw self-consciously, wondering if he’d missed sleep drool or a sock in his hair or something on his mad rush out the door but, two steps past, the youngest kid snuffles and speaks up, soft: “Are you gonna come see the moon with us?”

It takes another step for Stiles to register that she’s talking to him, but by the time he blinks back the boy’s already tutting at her.

“No Lucy. He’ll go with his own pack.”

The little girl’s mouth opens in a wide, understanding O, while her older sister tugs proudly on her yellow circle shirt. It’s painted a messy black in the middle, inside the bright golden edge, and Stiles kind of forgets coffee for a minute in the face of actual werewolf children and then there’s a woman stepping up behind them, coffee and a box of munchkins in hand, dropping a fond hand to ruffle the boy’s hair as she gives Stiles an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that, they’ve never been through another pack’s territory before. We’ve been driving since Arizona –– long trip for the little ones. But I couldn’t miss the chance for them to experience this. Best sighting until totality in 2017!”

“I’ll be ten,” says the boy, in the tone of one who’s done the math very carefully a dozen times over.

Stiles nods, a little lost because werewolf toddlers, and manages “well that’s… good.”

“I’m two,” the youngest puts in proudly, vaguely missing the thread of the conversation but eager to take part, and Stiles smiles back, wishing he had a little more coffee in his system because it’s not like he’s oblivious about what’s going on in the world this weekend, but he’s starting to feel a little dense for not connecting all kinds of dots sooner.

Then again, there’s another person who probably could’ve connected them for him.

“They don’t know how lucky they are,” the woman adds, beaming down. “I had to wait years for my first one and I’ll never forget the experience. Of course, you won’t feel it the same way as us,” her tone going apologetic, “but I’m sure your pack can’t wait to take part.”

And then she’s ushering the kids out the door with promises of donuts in the car, and Stiles is tugging out his phone, pulling up Derek Hale’s number.

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What’s My Name? (Tom Holland Smut)

Originally posted by tom-holla

request: “Hey I loved your Tom smut I was wondering if you would write something where the reader accidentally calls him Peter during sex and is super embarrassed but he’s kind of into it” (requested by anon)

short summary: ^^

length: 1.3k words (sorry it’s kinda shorter than i envisioned tbh :/)

warnings: none it’s p straightforward

A/N: i’m ngl i laughed as I was writing this like this whole concept just busts my chops lol enjoy (also i kept listening to what’s my name as i wrote this hah shoutout to rihanna my queen)


The time that you’d been spending with Tom in New York was everything you dreamed of and more. Having never been to the city before, it was quite the adventure and you were always happy to be with your boyfriend before one of you had to jet off for work or school.

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Guys My Age (3)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 4k

Warnings: Lap dance to rough Smut. NSFW gifs.

Anon asked “Can you please do a part 3 to ‘guys my age’ were Bucky asks reader for another lap dance”

A/N: The fic that started it all. I’m so glad people liked it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know if you want to be tagged. Also, dominant/jealous Bucky is just wow. Let me know if you want to be tagged HERE or HERE. Go away kids! And please use protection y’all.

Part 1 Part 2

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Bring It On | 01

Park Jimin | Comedy | Fluff | Slight Angst | BIO!au | cheerleader!jimin

❝You had long since gotten over your crush on your co captain slash roommate, Jimin. Other than the occasional wandering hand that maybe wasn’t so appropriate for someone who was supposed to be supporting you while you were in the air, or congratulatory smack on the ass after practice he was uninterested. Very, very, very much uninterested.❞

 

You blink down at your lunch tray, a scathing look marring your face when you note the mushed grool on your plate is probably leftovers from yesterday. You eye the cafeteria lady warily when she plops another serving on your tray, expression deadpan—you take longer to move along in line and she thinks she’s doing you a favor by serving you seconds.

“Greta,” you grin pleasantly, inching the tray back in her direction, “you’re doing amazing. Love the enthusiasm, that apron really suits you. However, I pay eight thousand dollars in college tuition and this looks like the wet food I give my dog. Do you think instead of this I could—”

She interrupts you with a wet slap of brown mush being added onto your already growing pile.

Wonderful,” you sigh, when you note the brown spackle on your uniform top, “can I just get a kale salad instead?”

It was for the best, anyway, you chide yourself. The fact that your school served lunch that was about as edible as aluminum foil made dieting easier. The reminder of your diet, however makes you groan as you reach the condiment station, chancing a smell at the ranch dressing in the clear plastic bowl. When you deem it safe enough to consume, you begin working on the croutons—

“Would you like some salad with your dressing?” Someone snorts from behind you.

You lift a wary gaze to Park Jimin, who’s leaning against the counter, working on organizing his grilled chicken. He cocks a brow at you as though he knows you’re glaring, even without looking.

“And to what do I owe this pleasure so early in the morning?”

Jimin rolls his eyes at you, nudging you out of the way so he can dress his own salad.

“Just think of me as your fairy godmother—I get a tingling sensation whenever you start to double carb.” He snorts, snatching the bread roll off your your tray and shoving you in the direction of your regular lunch table.

“It’s wheat.” You say indignantly, snatching it back and shoving it in your mouth.

“Just because wheat bread induces a slightly lower glycemic response doesn’t mean it’s better for you.” He spouts off automatically and you debate whether or not you can smash your head in before he starts scolding, “There’s no inherently good bread, just one that’s gonna make your ass slightly fatter as opposed to one that’s processed whole wheat.”

Apparently there was no avoiding his scolding this afternoon.

“For the record my mother says I have a wonderful figure,” you inform.

Jimin blinks at you before shoving a piece of chicken in his mouth, “Tell your mom to base for you then.”

“You’re in a fine mood this morning,” you scoff, before sending a teasing smile at your co captain, “I take it the freshman pitched their new uniform idea to you?”

Jimins jaw clenches at the thought, rubbing his aching temples, “I’m all for being a whore. I love the concept, I think it’s great. But I hate the bandage skirt idea. And if we’re going to look like hookers, we should at least be Marilyn Monroe and for like presidents and shit. Not Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.”

“Julia Roberts slander aside,” you glare, “I agree with you. They’re tacky and besides, regionals in three weeks—changing uniforms now would just be complicated, not to mention we have to worry about finding another base now that Hoseok’s graduating.”

“God, don’t fucking remind me, I already have a headache thinking about auditions. But also, I’m so happy you agree which is why I took the liberty of telling them to go fuck themselves.” Jimin grins cheerfully as you stab a pice of kale.

“What did I say about making decisions on my behalf?” You pin him with an annoyed look before throwing your fork down with a clank, “we’re a team Jimin, we make decisions together.”

“Yes and it’s because we’re a team that I know you hate all the things I do.” He explains.

“This is why they don’t respect me.” You say, “at least not as much as they do you.”

“They don’t respect me, they’re scared of me. It’s good for our image. Like a good cop, bad cop kind of thing.” He argues before slicing a piece of his grilled chicken on putting it on your plate, “And will you eat? You wouldn’t have to starve yourself if you made better choices. For example a vinaigrette instead of what is essentially going to be an extra three pounds on your ass.”

You blink at him rapidly before sighing, rising to your feet. “Whatever, Jimin.”

“Hey,” he calls out behind you but you’re already halfway across the cafeteria, equal parts irritable and unamused by Jimins lax behavior. You stop when a hand grips your wrist, “okay jeez I’m sorry. I’m kidding. Quit being a brat and eat your lunch. I said try to drop three pounds not starve yourself.”

“Wow, what a sincere apology,” you snort and attempt to walk away again but he’s gripping you by the waist, far too close for comfort with his front pressed against your back and plush lips at your ear.

This is new. Very new. 

Your roommate was a lot of things, touchy was not one of them. If anything, he prided himself on his personal space and was constantly shoving you out of his room, out of his bed, out of the fucking bathroom

“I’m sorry alright?” He mutters and you close your eyes because he was confusing. So confusing it hurt. “I didn’t mean it. I had one too many bowls of bitch flakes today—either that or you’re PMSi—fucking ow.”

Jimin rubs his side where you elbowed before glaring at you.

“Apology not accepted.” You sniff when he turns you in his arms and there was a time when you would have been ecstatic to be in this position but those feelings have long since fled.

He only tugs you closer with a grin when you don’t fight off his hold. Jimin raises a brow at something over your shoulder and you frown.

“Don’t look now but your baby boyfriend is on his way over,” Jimin whispers before retracting his arms.

“My baby what?” You frown and it only takes you a full second to realize who he’s talking about because before long Jeon Jungkook is crowding your space.

“Hey,” he calls, an arm winding its way around your waist before you’re rolling your eyes at Jimin’s teasing smirk. “What’s going on here?”

“Jungkook,” you greet, before extracting yourself from his hold, “What’s up?”

“I could say the same,” he mutters before nodding at Jimin, “We have a problem here?”

Jimin cringes at his cheesy line before pinning him with a bored look, “Actually we—”

“Me and Jimin were going over cheer stuff. Did you need something?” You interrupt.

“Going over cheer stuff,” Jungkook says back slowly. He stares at Jimin for a second too long before returning his gaze to you, “I just came to check on my girlfriend. I have a game today, you didn’t wish me good luck.”

You close your eyes with a wince when Jimin snorts. A warm palm on your shoulder has you opening them only to glare at the all too mirthful boy in front of you, “Let him down easy, champ.”

With a wave and wink in Jungkook’s direction, Jimin is bounding back towards the lunch table and leaving you with a migraine.

Jungkook is holding your hand and swinging it. You’re not quite sure when that happened.

“Look, Jungkook,” you begin, clearing your throat.

“Oh no.” He sighs.

“What?”

“Nothing is ever good when a girl starts out with ‘look, Jungkook'—my mom, my sister, the dean of students.” He shrugs.

“So you know what’s coming next then?” You ask hopefully.

“Are you gonna put me on academic probation?” He offers and when you shake your head he stares on, “Not gonna lie, I’m drawing a blank here. I just know whatever you’re saying is not gonna be good.”

All hope dies.

“We’re not dating.” You say gently, tugging your hand out of his. It was too big and overly warm.

Jungkook frowns, confusion wrinkling his brow and for a second you almost feel bad for him, that is until he opens his mouth.

“But you let me…” He chances a look over his shoulder before leaning into whisper harshly, “you let me finger you.”

And therein lies your problem.

You knew better—you truly did—than to let the otherwise inexperienced freshman go further than second base but in your defense you were drunk. You were drunk and he was willing and he was fucking Jeon Jungkook. You were a good person but not that good.

“Yes, Jungkook I did but that doesn’t mean I want to date you.” You explain gently.

“But why would you let me touch you if you didn’t want to date me?” He implores and you blink at him because there was no way in hell someone was this naive.

“Because I was horny and you were there.” You say honestly and to your relief there isn’t a look of pain etched on his features only mild confusion mixed in with annoyance. “Now that we’ve got that settled I have a cheer thing I have to—”

“Wait, wait!” He calls out, gripping your wrist, “but what about me?”

You sigh because no matter how innocent or inexperienced Jeon Jungkook seemed he was still a guy at the end of the day, and they all wanted one thing.

“Fine.” You rolls your eyes, “I’ll suck you off after practice but I got to get goin—”

“No. Not that,” he flushes, “I meant what about… what if I wanted to date you?”

You stare at Jungkook a beat and it’s your turn to be surprised because of all the things you expected to happen today that was the last.

“Do you…” You gulp, eyeing him warily, “have feelings for me?”

“No.” He says honestly and you deflate before glaring at him.

“Oh thank God,” you breathe before smacking his arm, “don’t go around saying shit like that. Jesus. Anyway, why would you want to go on a date with me if you don’t like me either? Does that make sense to you?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at you before tugging you off to an empty corner of the cafeteria, he lowers his voice even though no ones close enough to hear. “Okay don’t look right away but do you see those guys sitting at that table next to the doo—I said don’t look!”

“Ow!” You whine, rubbing at your scalp after he gives your ponytail a hard yank. “Okay, jeez what about them?”

“They’re on my basketball team.” He informs unhelpfully and you give him a bored look.

“You don’t say?” You gasp, a hand shooting up to cover your mouth, “I couldn’t tell from their uniforms and the guy on the table, spinning the basketball, staring at us.”

Jungkook goes quiet again and you feel a headache coming on because what he made up for in looks and general athleticism he lacked in brain cells.

“Are you being sarcastic?” He frowns and what was the point if all your jabs went right over his head?

Instead, you opt for exasperation, pressing a hand to your aching temple. “What about your basketball team, Jungkook?”

“They think I’m a virgin.”

“Well are you a virgin?” You retort, thinking back to the almost painfully awful finger fuck he gifted you with last weekend.

“That’s besides the point,” he waves you off before gripping your shoulders, “I’m in college now. And a guy. Being a virgin is weird and if they find out I haven’t gone all the way I’m toast.”

“So tell them you boned me and let me get on with my life. I give you my permission, young padawan.” You give him a reassuring smack on the arm before walking away, only to be tugged back by your uniform shirt. “What now?”

“That would be great, except they’ll keep hounding me to have more sex which I’m not opposed to I just… I’m not ready yet you know?”

You blink at him, “I don’t know. I’m a slut.”

“Well pretend you get it and date me. Just for a couple weeks.” He says, “If I have a girlfriend they’ll just assume I’m getting laid on the regular and leave me alone.”

“Okay, but what about me? I actually enjoy getting laid on the regular and no offense but getting fingered by you is about as enjoyable as going to the gynecologist.” You sigh and he winces.

“Noted.” He adds dryly before cocking a brow at you, “So are you up for it?”

No!” you throw your hands up, “besides dating you could give people the wrong impression. That I’m into things like—”

“Monogamy?”

Virgins.” You correct with a roll of your eyes. “Sorry Kook, you’re just gonna have to figure shit out on yo—”

“Noona please,” he pleads desperately, hand gripping your upper arm and in all honesty you’re not a hard person to sway but Jungkook is still persistent in his pursuit. He clasps both hands under his chin before dropping to his knees desperately. He’s whining and loudly.

Loud enough to garner attention.

“Will you get up?” You hiss, “People are staring!”

“Will you say yes?” He juts his lower lip out.

“No.” You glare, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Then I’m not getting up.” He pouts.

“Because I care,” you snort, “Camp out here if you want. My answers the st—”

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” he whines and you grit your teeth in annoyance, “I’ll owe you big.”

“You’ll owe me?” You cock a brow.

“Yes,” he says desperately, “I’ll do anything.”

Anything?” You ponder and Jungkook’s stomach turns when you openly give him the once over.

“I… shit… yeah, anything.” He sighs.


Jimin doesn’t ask you what’s wrong and you don’t expect him to—you only bang things louder until he’s sighing from his spot on his bed, pausing the game he’s playing to turn to look at you.

“Is something wrong?”

He looks put out, annoyed. You don’t care.

Everything’s wrong.” You mutter, stripping off your uniform and throwing it in the dirty clothes.

You have half a mind to remember that you were still in Jimin’s room but it didn’t matter anyway, you and Jimin had long since passed the initial crush stage of your friendship slash roommate agreement—well at least you had, you were almost entirely positive Jimin felt nothing save for mild irritation for you on a good day. That coupled with the fact that he was very much gay set your worries at ease.

“Be more specific?” He sighs, disinterested.

You pause in rummaging through his clothes long enough to narrow your eyes at him, “I hate boys.”

“Good. More for me.” He retorts instantly, shooting you a warning glare when you pause on one of his good t shirts, “I’m wearing that tomorrow, the sweatshirt you’re looking for is in the back.”

You don’t even shoot him a so much as a thank you as you shimmy out of your sports bra, with your back turned to him and tug his hoodie over head. When you’re settled and warm you shoot a mischievous smile at Jimin who’s still glaring at you before—

“Don’t you—” he cut himself off with a curse when you dive under his covers anyway. Jimin seethes quietly as you nestle yourself beneath his sheets, “You know you have your own room right?”

“Don’t you miss me?” You whine before snuggling closer, much to his annoyance, he opts to pinch your side instead of shoving you off the bed completely. 

“No. Now move over if you want to stay in here.” he scoffs.

“You know I had a really shitty day,” you glare at his side profile and he doesn’t answer, only picks up the controller to un pause whatever he was playing. “it would be nice if you could be even a little bit supportive.”

“I didn’t sign up for emotional support I signed up for half on utilities and you not leaving your pad wrappers on the bathroom floor.” He mutters, still invested in his tv show.

“Jimin.”

“Don’t use that voice, I hate it.” He grunts.

“What voice?” You pout.

“You know, the voice.” He sighs, sending you a glance from the corner of his eye, “The one you use on guys to get what you want. Your baby voice, it’s annoying.”

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment and you feign indifference because Jimin never means to be hurtful, he’s only talking to you like he would any other friend… but you didn’t want to be any other friend? You weren’t sure anymore, about how you felt about him. Things were blurred because while you were sure things bordered on platonic and that mostly had to do with the fact that he was so immune to your feminine wiles (snort), you also knew you didn’t want to be treated like one of the guys or like any other fucking girl on the team, that he mostly couldn’t stand.

You wanted to be special. Special in what way, you weren’t entirely sure.

“You’re a dick.” You retort and he tears his gaze away from the screen long enough to cock a brow at you.

“You knew this upon signing the lease.” He snorts and you don’t reply because really, what was there to say. It was well known, Jimin was in fact an asshole—he didn’t like kick puppies or make orphans cry (intentionally) or anything but he was curt and to the point and you didn’t get your feelings hurt easily which is why things worked between the two of you. “Hey, did you get that playlist I sent you?”

You pause in scrolling through your phone to turn to him, “Yeah actually I did. They’re all kind of slow, did you want to use them for routine?”

Jimins hands slow on the controller but he doesn’t divert his attention this time, only hums his disagreement, “Nah, just new songs I stumbled upon I thought you’d dig. They’re good right?”

“Yeah,” you nod eagerly, “I added them to my library actually.”

“Cool.” Jimin grumbles, clearly done with the conversation and you roll your eyes.

You go on like that for a few moments because Jimins content with silence, prefers it actually over what he calls your ‘incessant chattering’ it’s one of many things he finds annoying about you—from what you can tell. He’s left almost every group chat you’re in.

You talk too much,” he says desperately after one night, a long night of drinking with your team and you’re still sending pictures. He’s in your room and his hairs disheveled and he’s shirtless and he looks delectable and annoyed and seconds away from strangling you.

“Sorry.” You squeak, tugging the blankets up past your chin and he narrows his eyes at you. You can barely make him out in your doorway, but the light from the hallway dances against the planes of chest, making you gulp.

“No you’re not,” he grumbles, throat raspy from liquor and sleep, he sticks a hand out expectantly, “hand it over.”

“W-what?” You push hair back from your face nervously and Jimin adjusts his basketball shorts before sauntering over to your bed.

“Your phone. I’m confiscating it. You’re fucking with my sleep schedule and I have a nine am tomorrow,” Jimin mutters, snatching your iPhone from you. He sends you a menacing glare all while fiddling with the device, “You don’t get to bitch if I drop you on your ass during practice. Now move in.”

“Huh?” Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline at that and Jimin is sending you a bland look, a hand pressed to his aching temple like talking to you is causing him physical pain. But he doesn’t respond only yanks the blanket from under you, making you all too aware of your lack of clothing when the bed dips beneath his weight.

“Move. In.” He enunciates, “I’m drunk as hell, tired as hell, and not up for the walk to my room.”

“It’s across the hall.” You remind him and in the darkness of your bedroom, with the pale moonlight dancing in and reflecting off the single chain Jimin always wears you’re overwhelmed by him. By his scent, his body, his withering stare when he presses a finger to your forehead.

“Sleep now.” He grumbles.

And maybe that was when it truly started, when the both of you settled down after that long night of drinking, him telling you to sleep on your stomach so you don’t choke on your own vomit, and you staring on dumbly, the beginnings of an on again off again infatuation for your roommate, your friend, that never really went away—no matter how unwilling a participant you were.

There’s a brief period of time (that you’ve made a conscious effort to block out) that you openly pined for him. There was no stumbling into the kitchen a mess, with morning breath that threatened to singe his eyebrows off if you struck up a conversation. No. If Jimin had class at nine am, you were up, with your lashes curled and your favorite tinted BB cream by seven forty five—you looked fresh faced, what a boy who hadn’t spent nearly five plus years of his life around girls with bedazzled vaginas would consider natural. But alas—

Jimin is a hairsbreadth from your face and you thank every god you could think of you woke up at the ass crack of dawn to wash your hair. His eyes narrow and he worries his lower lip before pulling back.

“You didn’t blend your neck,” he comments before grabbing his hoodie next to you and bidding you adieu.

For the first month of your crush you spend every morning in the kitchen (after of course closely inspecting your makeup under several different lightings), making him breakfast, green smoothies even. But Jimin is a health nut, on top of being an obsessive perfectionist. He preps his food the night before, likes all of his ducks in a row when he starts his morning at eight fifteen on the dot. His expression the first time you offer him turkey bacon and eggs is a cocktail of mild disgust and disinterest. 

“I’m counting macros this week.” He explains, before transferring his smoothie from the blender into a thermos. 

You tongue at your cheek before taking a bite of the ridiculously chewy meat. 

Your first Valentine’s Day with Jimin is always a memorable one, for sheer comedic relief if nothing else.

The two of you are regularly inseparable at practice, and some of it had to do with you being a fly and him base, your base, but a lot of it was because he didn’t… mesh well with others. He was too blunt, too rough around the edges and he took cheer seriously. The times Jimin spoke about himself were far and in-between, but you distantly remember him telling you that before he started doing cheer he did gymnastics competitively for a good chunk of his life. That explained a lot of things, honestly. Why he was so by the book, strict about everything from uniforms to ponytails, to diets—of all the boys on the squad, he was maybe the only one who gave a shit about stuff like that. It was because of all of that that he made a good co captain, and if it weren’t for his inability to compromise and just generally stomach other peoples presence, you were positive he would have beat you out for the captain position.

It also explained why he was so strong. The guy regularly worked out, yeah but he was like, open the pickle jar strong. And then there was his food intake which was crazy, all things considered, because he ate a lot to build muscle but it was all so healthy you couldn’t imagine anyone enjoying it. You wouldn’t lie, the first time Jimin lifted you during auditions your heart nearly beat out of your chest because he did it all with one arm and caught you effortlessly against his chest.

“Here,” Jimin says, handing you a tumbler filled with purple liquid at the end of practice, he hitches his gym bag up higher on his shoulder and waits for you to accept it. “I brought you a smoothie from home.”

“Thanks, what is it?” You ask, sniffing it and ignoring the glare Jimin shoots your way. It doesn’t smell offensive and you take a hesitant sip, “Actually this is good.”

He nods with a sheepish shrug and you try to tamp down the zoo of butterflies in your chest that are telling you that this is a sign, that Park Jimin making you a smoothie is his weird, male, health nut equivalent of chocolates and a confession. Your heart seems to gain wings at the prospect and then he ruins it like he always does because he’s Jimin and he ruins things. That’s his job title and occupation, Park Jimin, The Ruiner.

“It’s a detox smoothie actually,” he says when you’re already on your second mouthful, cheeks puffed with the berry concoction. Jimin was a lot of things, tactless was one of them, “I thought it would help with… you know. Plus, I do strength training in my free time but this partnership only works if you keep up your end. You should come to the gym with me in the mornings, you’re up anyway with like a full face of makeu—”

You shove the tumbler back at his chest before sucking your teeth at him, “I’m gonna go shower and then head home. See you there.”

Jimin frowns at your retreating figure by glancing down at the smoothie, he takes a sip for curiosity’s sake. “What’s her problem?”

The first time you see Jimin kissing a boy there’s no tell tale signs of arousal that all of mainstream media swore by. Only pure unadulterated jealousy tinged with sadness. You watch the way Jimin cups the boys jaw, the way his own jaw works in time with his lips. It’s not rushed or heated, filled with passion like a lover—it’s slow and a little timid, like the first kiss at the end of a date and your stomach turns.

You watch the two boys pull away, Jimin looking the softest you’ve ever seen. You wondered what it felt like to be the recipient of that gaze, but it wasn’t a side of him you were meant to see, or a moment meant for you, and you reminded yourself that you were intruding. You leave the hallway too quickly that day and maybe sulk for longer than was necessary in the weeks to follow, cry even, because your nineteen year old self is (gag) heartbroken. It won’t be another month of stilted conversation and failed attempts at avoidance until you’ve pushed the feeling to the back of your brain and manage to find a middle ground in your relationship with him.

“If you return my shirt with boob sweat I’m gonna use it to smother you in your sleep.” Jimin reminds and you scoff. “That’s my good shirt.”

“That was one time.” You shoot up indignantly and immediately regret it because with regionals nearing you were doing conditioning instead of regular routines and every muscle in your body was on fire from today’s practice.

Jimin sighs before getting to his knees and giving you a hard look, “Did you—”

“Before you ask whatever you’re gonna ask I came straight here after practice, showered and went to class I haven’t had time to do anything else.” You interrupt and Jimin rolls his eyes at you.

“Lay back,” he orders and you oblige immediately because as strict as Jimin was as far as diet and exercise was concerned, he considered you an extension of himself. His partner. And if you weren’t in good shape you were holding him back which is why he ignores your yells of protest when he pushes back on the leg you have pressed to his chest.

“Okay, okay, okay.” You say, slapping his arm so he would let up, “That’s enough.”

“Shut up.” He says mildly, pushing until your knee was nestled between both your chests. He slaps the back of your calf and you glare, “Straighten this.”

“Fuck off.” You grit out.

He cocks a brow at you and you regret your words when he adds more pressure.

“Jimin, fuuuuck,” you whine earnestly, a hand pressed to his chest because the pain was getting to be too much and he didn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon. He doesn’t recline right away, and you peek an eye open in time to see a look cross his face before he guides your leg back slowly with a nod.

“How’s your knee doing?” He murmurs, and you lean your head back against the pillow when he begins feeling up your leg.

As much as you hated to admit it, Jimin’s extensive athletic career as well as his major proved to be useful on more than one occasion in your house. As an athlete you could appreciate a roommate who was studying physical therapy, especially when it came to the massage aspect.

“It’s been fine these last few weeks,” you shrug, “hasn’t been giving me any problems.”

“Start wearing your knee brace again.” He says when he places one hand on your knee and the other on your ankle. You narrow your eyes when he moves it side to side, “Your knees been giving out at practice. I’ll kick your ass if you dislocate it before regionals.”

“Noted.” You scoff, but it’s more of a gasp when Jimin’s hands are on your hips, barely under his hoodie and skimming the skin just above your spandex. His face is passive all the while, nudging you up the bed.

“Move up, I’m gonna check your range of motion.” He explains and Jimin is all work and no fun. Sometimes you wonder how he can remain so disinterested, clinical at times like this when you feel like your whole body is on fire under his touch.

Your leg is back up in the air and Jimin is moving it in hesitant circles, up and down, side to side and you close your eyes, trying not to gasp everytime he presses your legs closed and tiny shockwaves of pleasure shoot straight to your clit. He never presses down long enough to evoke a reaction but you lay back and relax, enjoying what little intimacy you’re allowed with him.

Everything is good, it’s nice, relaxing, his touch is enough to leave you horny, you’ll probably have to rub one out in your room later but not enough to have you cumming right then and there. Your eyes shoot open when you feel him move in, his hand no longer resting on your leg but on the innermost of your thigh, too high up as he presses down.

Too, too high up. Too, too close to the apex of your thighs.

You cock a brow and in typical Jimin fashion he stares on blandly, cool as a cucumber sitting between your legs and forcing them open.

“Buy me a drink first?” You say a little breathlessly, and joking is your way of coping with this, him, your ego, which was sorely bruised because Park Jimin was more than immune to you and that sucked royally.

“Get your head out of the gutter.” He says, but he does it with a small smile, “If you did this on your own I wouldn’t have to do it for you.”

“It’s not as fun on my own.” You comment.

“It never is.” He teases back and it’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to flirting with him. You simultaneously revel in it and chide yourself for still being so head over hills for someone who sees you as no more than an object in his everyday life, like a lamp or the refrigerator. You’d notice if it were gone but you could always get a new refrigerator.

“Okay, I think I’m good for the night! Thanks I’ll just go back to my room an—”

A crack sounds in the room, echoing off his walls, so loud it nearly drowns out the strangled noise you make in your throat. You blink up at Jimin, equal parts shocked and turned on when he rubs the sensitive skin of your thigh, the innermost part he just slapped. Welts form under his soft palm but he doesn’t look the tiniest bit sorry, in fact, he doesn’t look anything. His expression is just as calm as collected as it was when you had first walked in. It leaves you confused, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“Did you just…” You gesture between your thighs and Jimin patiently waits for you to continue as he closes your legs back up, letting you know you’re done with at home PT. “Did you just spank me?”

“Take better care of yourself and I won’t have to.” He says softly and you’re searching, searching for something, anything in his face that’ll give you even the slightest idea of what the fuck just happened. But you come up empty, even as he presses on, “Stop skipping lunch to talk to that freshman. Make healthier choices so you don’t have to do extreme diets and stop,” He grips your knee softly before staring up at you, “neglecting your health.”

You nod mutely, when he finishes because there’s nothing else to really say. Jimins been acting weird, very weird these past few days and while every fiber of your being, every natural instinct is telling you ‘he likes you! you love him, offer to suck his dick!’ the rational part of your brain quashes any hope and reminds you how well trying to pursue feelings for your roommate turned out the last time.

“I’m going to bed.” You say dumbly, blinking at him and Jimin nods, not moving to say goodbye or watch you walk out.

You press your back against his door when you leave because Park Jimin would be the death of you, but oh what a way to go.


“Look, I’m sorry okay?” Hoseok sighs, trailing after you as you re-shelf the books you were scanning. Stupid midterm paper. Stupid college.

“Hm, I’m sorry I don’t know what you’re sorry for, unless of course you’re apologizing for interrupting my studying then, I forgive you Hoseok because that’s just the kind of loving, nurturing, sweet captain I am.” You return, back still to the older boy when he rolls his eyes at you, “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“I’m quitting the squad.” Hoseok says with a finality that makes you snort.

“‘Kay. Don’t be late to practice today or I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass you won’t be able to walk much less cheer.” You say sweetly.

“I admit, it’s a bit troublesome,” Hoseok sighs.

You whirl around on him at that, eyes narrowed, “Getting your pubes caught in the sticky part of your pad is a bit troublesome—you quitting the fucking team three weeks before a competition is a lot of fucking troublesome you asshole.”

“First of all ew,” He whines something that sounds dangerously close to your name and you don’t have to turn to know he’s pouting, “Second, you know there’s more to life than cheer! I’m graduating soon and I need to focus on my studies, and start looking into a career.”

“Listen here you little bitch,” you hiss, shoving a finger in his face until Hoseok was going cross eyed, “I can smell the entire bag of marijuana you smoked on your way here. Who put you up to this? Namjoon? I’ll kick your ass, I’ll kick his ass and then whichever one of your dumb friends helped coerce you into ‘lightening your load’ before you graduate. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.”

“But I want to party,” he pouts and nearly eats his words when your eye twitches, “God, you and Jimin are really a match made in heaven, huh? How are two people that are so tiny, so terrifying?”

“Hoseok, you can’t quit we have regionals and the freshman are giving me a fucking ulcer. Where am I going to find and be able to train a base in three weeks?” You implore, pressing a hand to your aching temple.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok says and he doesn’t look the least bit sorry. You debate on shoving you foot up his ass for old times sake when he pats you on the shoulder, “You’re a good cheerleader. An even better captain, I know you’ll figure it out.”

“Fuck off,” you glare, shoving a finger in his chest, “if anything weird happens to you this week, just know it’s me cursing you.”

You stand there, with your back pressed against the bookshelf for a good minute, just watching Hoseok’s retreating figure. His shoulders are sagged in relief, like he was just let from under a tremendous weight, one he turned around and perched atop your shoulders.

When you get back to your library table you’re pouting, on the verge of losing your shit in the otherwise dead silent room because why, why did bad things happen to good people? As though you weren’t already stressed from midterms, it was like you had a giant fucking sign on your forehead that said ‘hey, screw me over!’

“What is it now?” Someone hums across from you and you barely have time to register that it’s Nayeon before you’re jutting your lower lip.

And for what it’s worth, Nayeon is a good friend because she stops studying, sets her books and binders and pens aside to focus all of her attention on you. Then she listens, and listens, and listens because it’s only been three days since you’ve seen each other but it seems as though a lot has happened. By the time you’re done debriefing her, she’s staring at you, a frown marring her pretty face and her arms crossed over her chest because—

“You’re a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?” she sighs, carding hands through her hair, “Let me just… let me just see if I follow here, Jungkook the freshman, the virgin you let finger you at the party last week, he wants you to deflower him?”

“No, he doesn’t even want sex—can you believe…! He wants me to date him, so worst.” You correct, “Fake date him to get his teammates off his back because he’s fucking twelve apparently and not immune to peer pressure.”

“And your roommate, Jimin, your gay roommate,” she emphasizes the gay part and you glare at her, “you think you’re starting to… feel things for him again?”

“I mean, technically,” you put a hand out to stop her, “the feelings never really went away, but they’ve just been lying dormant like waiting for him or myself to entertain them and Nayeon, the other day, in the cafeteria he hugged me. He back hugged me. Jimin, the same person who made a six year old cry last year, and then kicked his dad’s ass. I want to die.”

“And Hoseok,” she presses a hand to her head, “the drug dealing cheerleader. He quit.”

“He’s not a drug dealer, he just smokes a lot of weed,” you roll your eyes, “his friend, Namjoon, he’s a drug dealer. I’m gonna kick his ass because he convinced Hoseok to quit the fucking team.”

“And… you have regionals in less than a month, correct?”

“Yes. So you see my problem right?” You whine.

“You have multiple problems, most of which I can’t help you with, being in love with your gay roommate ranks at the top of that list,” she sends you a sarcastic look before snapping her fingers at you, “but the Hoseok thing. I know how you can fix that. It’ll be like killing two birds with one stone.”


“This is so… lame.” Jungkook groans and you slap him upside the head before gesturing towards the rest of the squad.

“Team, I’d like you to meet our new base.” You smile tightly before patting a hand on his shoulder, and pulling something from behind your back, “This is Jungkook.”

“What’s that for?” Momo, a second year on the team frowns and you brighten at her question, bringing the glass jar to everyone’s attention.

“This,” you begin, “is negative reinforcement. Anytime he says something rude, stupid, or offensive feel free to let me know and I’ll charge him, all proceeds go towards new uniforms for the team.”

“What happened to Hoseok?”

“Hoseok decided to focus on his studies.” You say and you barely make it through the sentence before someone’s cutting you off with a snort. “Jungkook’s going to be replacing him.”

“That’s such bullshit!” Mina scoffs, “Has he ever even cheered before?”

“No but I have more than two brain cells I’m sure I can figure it out.” Jungkook retorts and you press a hand to your aching temple, resisting the urge to argue his declaration of having even more than one struggling fucking brain cell. 

“Five dollars.” You seethe and Jungkook only challenges your stare for a moment before he’s reaching in his back pocket for his wallet, shoving a bill in. You cock a brow at him. He curses you before putting in another dollar.

“What’s going on over here?”

It’s a natural response, almost second nature by now, the goosebumps, the heat in the pit of your belly, the chill at the base of your spine. You should be a little more put out over the response Jimin evokes, even after all this time but you couldn’t force yourself to care. Instead you sigh.

“Jimin, this is Jungkook. You two have met before. He’s going to be filling in for Hoseok from here on out.” You explain and brace yourself because Jimin is a lot of things. Complacent isn’t one of them. He doesn’t settle for anything short of perfect and one look at Jungkook has him straightening his shoulders and eyeing you like he’s about to throw you out a window.

“Who says?” Jimin challenges and it’s your turn to cock a brow at him, hands planted firmly on your hips.

“Me, the captain.” You shoot back.

“Did he even audition?” Jimin retorts and you roll your eyes at him.

“Audition for what? It isn’t exactly like we have troves of fucking college kids lined up to fill the spot.” You argue.

“You’re cut.” Jimin says, ignoring you and sneering down his nose at Jungkook.

And Jungkook, for all his complaints and the bitch fit he put up the entire way you had dragged him to the field, didn’t take well to being told what to do. Especially by assholes. Correction, especially by assholes in a matching fucking tracksuit.

“Weird. My girlfriend, the captain,” cue audible gasp from over dramatic cheerleaders, “says otherwise.”

You press a hand to your forehead with a visible shudder because where did this guy find his material? So corny.

“Your girlfriend?” Jimin laughs, and turns his head to peer over at the bleachers before raising a brow at you. You squirm under his intense scrutiny, “So you’re dating the kid?”

“I mean… we’re not not dating.” You mutter and yelp when Jungkook pinches your side.

“What does that even mean?” Jimin implores.

“Like, we’re not like boyfriend and girlfriend it’s just like sometimes he waits for me outside my class and we go to see the newest movies and stuff together and maybe he’ll buy me like lunch on the way and like I don’t know kiss me or hold my hand but not like in a boyfriend way, he’s not my boyfriend.” You rush out and when you glance back up the two boys are staring at you incredulously.

“What exactly is your definition of boyfriend—anal? That sounds like maybe the only thing you haven’t done with him.” Jimin rolls his eyes at you when you slap his chest. He could at least act like it hurt.

“So anyway, let’s start practice!” You clear your throat, pushing past both of them and towards the middle of the field, “Pair up and get started on your stretches!”

Jimin and Jungkook glare at each other even after everyone begins stretching, speeding up your already impending headache.

“I don’t like you.” Jimin comments mildly.

Jungkook snorts at that.

“I’m quivering. Your tracksuit really evokes a sense of fear in a guy.” He rolls his eyes before sneering, “You look like Vector from Despicable Me.”

“Okay, that’s enough. I’ve had it with you two and your dick measuring contest.” You hiss, getting in between either of them and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Bet I’d win.” Jungkook sniffs, “Everytime.”

“Yeah?” Jimin tongues at the inside of his cheek, the way he sizes Jungkook up makes the younger boy squirm, “Wanna find out after this?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to argue before closing it again—he does this a few more times before squinting his eyes and cocking his head to the side at the older boy. “That got really gay, really fast.”

Jungkook turns to look at you, pointing a finger at Jimin before, “Is he—”

“Jar, Jungkook.” You exasperate.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t have to.” You hiss.

“Fine, homoerotic, is that the politically correct term?” He sighs and you clench your hands at your sides in an attempt to not strangle him.

Not in front of witness.

“Stop talking.” You put a finger up to silence him and then turn your attention to Jimin, “Let’s start practice, yeah? We can be mature about this?”

“Matures my middle name.” Jimin seethes.


As it is, mature is not Jimin’s fucking middle name, it wasn’t even his stripper name because between the jabs he had been making at Jungkook’s inability to pick up on the workouts as quickly, or the way he would send the younger boy a pointed look whenever he wasn’t as flexible as the other guys on the team you were about five minutes from strangling him.

“Why can’t I be her partner?” Jungkook argues at one point when Jimin immediately grabs your arm for stretches.

“Because you’ll fuck around and throw her back out and then I’ll kill you.” Jimin says politely before yanking you closer to him. His movement is only slightly halted when Jungkook reaches out to grab your other arm and your glancing between the two of them wildly.

“It’s not fucking rocket science I’m sure she can tell me what to do.” Jungkook scoffs, tugging on your arm.

“I’ve been her partner for three fucking years, if you want to look up someone’s skirt do it on your free time or pair up with one of the other freshman on the team, you’re wasting my time.” Jimin grits out.

“Why can’t you pair up with one of the freshman on the team, if you’re so experienced doesn’t it make sense if noona helps me instead of you? I also need some experienced help.” Jungkook enunciates.

“Fine.” Jimin says, letting go of your arm and making you stumble, he cocks a brow at Jungkook, jaw clenched, “get on your back and spread your legs I’m your new partner.”

You and Jungkook stare at each other for a beat before turning to openly gawk at Jimin, who was sporting an expression that told you he was bored with the entire conversation and had been tired of Jungkook five minutes ago.

“Take your pick,” Jimin shrugs, “it’s either one of the freshman or me. Personally, I can stretch you out real good—”

“Okay stop.” You say finally, pressing a hand to either boys chest, you level Jimin with an exasperated expression, one that he pointedly ignores before turning to Jungkook, “I’m going to partner with him today, Jungkook, the other girls are really helpful and if you have any questions you can ask me but I don’t think it’s a good idea to try and deviate from routine. Me and Jimin have been working together for a lot longer and it’ll take both of us to be able to incorporate you into the flow of things. It’s just easier this way.”

Jimin shoots the younger boy a smug look, one you want to smack off his face because despite the rush of butterflies Jimin’s current possessive nature was giving you, you knew it was only because he didn’t want Jungkook around. He didn’t want you injured because you were just a stepping stone towards his real goal which was essentially regionals. It sucked and was kind of dick-ish but you knew this about Jimin from the get go, he had never pretended otherwise or came to you under false pretenses. Jimin had a very one-tracked mind and it was currently stuck on the aforementioned competition your team faced.

“Stop it.” You sigh and Jimin raises a brow at you, “You know what you’re doing. You’re egging him on an—unf.”

You wither him with a glare when he positions you to get a better seat between your legs. “You were saying?”

You were really beginning to hate stretching. Especially with Jimin.

“You’re little games not cute and it’s making things difficult for m—shit.” You curse when he presses back on your leg until one knee was pressed against your shoulder.

“Should we work on your flexibility next?” Jimin asks and he’s obnoxiously close to you, his cool breath fanning over your face, but your focus was on his lips. Your throat goes dry when he licks them, his voice lowering an octave, “Or should we do that later? When we’re alone?”

His questions hits you like a punch to the gut and you’re suddenly choking because that almost sounded flirtatious but when you glance up to try and get a read on Jimin’s expression, he’s impassive, unfazed by his double entendre.

“W-What?” You stammer, shoving at his chest until the pressure on your leg gives. Jimin blinks at you curiously.

“We might not have enough time, we could do it at the apartment?” He offers innocently, only Jimin was about as innocent as Satan and you didn’t buy his raised eyebrows and saucer eyes.

A sigh leaves your lips as yourself down on the grass. Tired. So tired.


“Since this discussion has long since been put off,” you sigh before plopping yourself down on an available seat of grass, “I’m opening the floor. I hear that you all want new uniforms so Jimin and I have decided that we—”

“Not me,” Jimin corrects, “just her. If it were up to me you’d all be wearing trash bags to better suit your shitty performance.”

Jimin and I,” you begin again, “have decided to take suggestions and if you guys are really dead set on this then we can work on fundraising too.”

“The current uniforms are fine, the only ones who want to change it are the freshman!” Kihyun calls from the back, garnering more than a few glares and making Jimin snicker.

“They are not fine. They’re gray.” Eunha chimes in, “Like prison cells. Gray is why prisoners are unhappy.”

“Really? I always thought it was the loss of freedom and free manual labor,” Jimin snorts, ignoring when you slap his chest.

“I think new uniforms would be a good look.” Jungkook says, leaning back to inspect the back of your thighs, “I say we take the hem up an inch… or five.”

“Ten dollars.” You say without blinking and Jungkook sulks.

“What about black uniforms? It’s a flattering color! And we could go with gray for an accent so we don’t stray too far from school colors.”

“That's…” You begin hesitantly, “not a bad idea, actually.”

“Oh! Long sleeve tops! I’ve been looking them up online and they look so much more… Professional? A lot of the top schools are going for long sleeve instead of sleeveless.” Eunha offers.

“Maybe if you all started practicing like a top school, we’ll consider it.” Jimin scoffs and groans echo through out the huddle.

“Draw up a design. Get it approved by us and coach and while you’re at it, start thinking of fundraising ideas to pitch.” You say, rising to your feet and dusting the grass from your bottom, “If it’s good and everything works out maybe we’ll be able to get new uniforms before regionals.”

“Practice is over. Go home and stretch, hydrate and ice if you need to assholes, I’m tired of you coming to me with injuries that could have been avoided.” Jimin seethes and you roll your eyes because you think, for a moment, beneath all the bravado he actually gives a shit about the kids.

It isn’t until you’re hitching your gym bag up your shoulder and swapping your tennis shoes out for slippers that you feel Jungkook’s weight being pressed onto your shoulders.

“Can I help you?” You sigh, shaking off his grip and making him whine.

“What the hell was that?” He glowers, gesturing towards the field and when you stare at him blankly he elaborates, “That practice was worst than literally any training I’ve done for basketball—off season included.”

“Welcome to cheerleading, bitch.” You say, slapping him on the shoulder. You turn to leave, and press fingers to your closed eyes when your movement is halted by his grip on your wrist. “What?”

“Can you… you know… help with that thing you offered earlier?” He coughs, rubbing the back of his neck and you eye him incredulously.

“The blowjob?”

“What? No! No! I meant… the routines. It’s just… that… you know Jimin doesn’t like me too much and the stuff we were going over earlier was complicated but I can’t ask him and I don’t want to look like an idiot I just,” Jungkook sighs and it takes every bit of self control not to snap at him, even going as far as to remind yourself that he was doing you a favor. Even if it was only out of debt. He was trying to help.

Which is why you throw your bag down with an exasperated sigh and slip your shoes back on, “Let’s practice a bit then.”


Somewhere down the line you had just assumed, no, hoped that either of the boys would get used to each other. At least enough to be civil. You didn’t need them to be glued at the foreskin but you did need them to not give you a migraine whenever you were forced to be in the same room as them.

“This is shared space. That means no boyfriends after eleven o’clock,” Jimin hissed after one entire evening of Jungkook lounging on your couch, eating a bag of Cheetohs and getting crumbs everywhere. “So get whatever breed of cockroach this is, out of my living room.”

“He’s not my—”

Jungkook cuts you off with a withering glare, pausing the newest episode of Bones to speak around a mouthful of chips, “Noona, can we go over the routine again this weekend? I think I’m starting to forget. I wouldn’t want to choke on competition day. That would suck.”

His threat was so apparent that Jimin’s lips thin, making a move towards the younger boy, if it weren’t for your grip on his upper arm. “Jeon Jungkook, do you wan—”

“Let’s go to my room.” You interrupt, tugging the younger boy up by the wrist and dragging him the rest of the way.

“What was that for?” Jungkook grumbles, rubbing at his wrist as though it hurt, as if he wasn’t a whole foot taller and a person heavier than you.

“Stop pissing off my roommate.” You demand, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh come on! I’m not even doing anything.” Jungkook glares, “It’s not my fault he has a hard on for you!”

“Trust me when I say he doesn’t,” you snort and glare when Jungkook leans back against your headboard, completely ignoring you, “Besides, all of this was not apart of our deal. Get out of my house.”

“He totally does,” Jungkook argues, disregarding your earlier statement and making himself comfortable under your throw, “I mean, I know girls have a hard time admitting they’re wrong but trust me, you’re wrong about this one. A guy doesn’t get pissed like that unless you’re fucking with a girl he’s into.”

“A normal guy doesn’t,” you correct, “Jimin likes his space. You are intruding on that, in more than one sense.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, but I’m telling you I’m 100% right.” Jungkook shrugs, reaching over


“He’s wrong.” Nayeon sighs, head rested on her palm as you occupy the seat across from her. Cutting into important study time, again. “Well, not entirely wrong.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You crinkle your nose at her and she rolls her eyes.

“He has a hard on for someone, it’s just not you.” Nayeon whispers and your eyes widen.

“No!” You gasp.

“Yes.”

“No!”

Yes.”

“No!”

Yes!” she says, slamming her hands down on the table, and wincing when people several tables over turn to gawk. “I mean think about it. You said Jimins gay right? And that he shows no emotion save for mild disinterest where you’re concerned but suddenly Jeon Jungkook comes along and he’s irritable, territorial, emotional? Jimin is one of those guys, you know?”

“I don’t.” You shake your head, but all your attention is focused on her, you’re hanging on her every word.

“He doesn’t know how to properly express his emotions so he’s lashing out.” she explains slowly.

And it’s like everything suddenly makes sense in the universe, all the pieces click together and your heart feels as though a fat man has just situated himself on your chest. Because, did Jimin really like Jungkook? Were you really going to be forced to sit back and watch him pine for another man, again? Then there was the more jealous part of you, the ugly emotions that lurked beneath the surface that you weren’t ready to address. Thoughts like, do you lie to him? You hadn’t intended on keeping the entire Jungkook thing a secret because if you were being honest with yourself you thought Jimin might try to throw him off the nearest balcony if he knew you weren’t actually dating him. But the more you thought about it the more you wanted to keep it to yourself and it wasn’t exactly lying, was it?

“You’re making the face.” Nayeon sighs.

“What face?” You frown.

“The one you make when you’re having a heated, internal monologue over your skewed moral compass.” She explains.

“I was not…” you lie before plopping your head down in defeat.

You totally were, but Nayeon is polite enough not to call you out on it.


If you had to rank your to do list for the day, telling Jimin that you weren’t actually dating Jungkook so that your roommate who you had been openly pining for for the last three years could swoop in was ranked at the bottom. Right above dying and going to another party with Hoseok’s weird friends. Though if you were being honest with yourself, you’d take death happily at this point, it sounded a whole hell of a lot less painful. Especially when just trying to squeeze yourself into Jimin’s schedule was a pain in the ass.

If he wasn’t on campus, juggling seven classes to complete school on time he was at cheer practice, which wasn’t a prime place to tell him because Jungkook—and if he wasn’t at cheer practice he was at the gym, or asleep and you’d try waking Jimin up exactly once in your entire time knowing him and it was one too many. The guy wasn’t exactly a morning person.

So the gym it was.

“I’m surprised you actually wanted to come.” Jimin muses, fixing your posture before switching out your kettlebell for a heavier one. You try not to glare.

“I figure,” you grunt when he lets go, leaving you to manage the ten pound weight on your own, a small feat when you’ve already been there for thirty minutes and your arms felt like jelly, “you were right. I wouldn’t be a good captain if I started neglecting myself.”

“Hmm..” He hums, and pressed a hand to your exposed belly, “suck this in.”

“So I was thinking,” you pant and Jimin quirks a brow at you.

“A scary prospect.” He murmurs.

“I was thinking,” you begin again, before dropping the weight completely and turning to face him, “about me and Jungkook…. and me and you.”

“Did I say you could stop?” He implores and you roll your eyes at him before switching arms, “What do you and Jungkook have to do with you and me?”

“You’re my roommate.” You grunt, heaving up with all your might. “And you hate him.”

“You’re not wrong about either of those things,” he agrees, “but I’d like to reiterate my first question of what do either of those things have to do with each other?”

“I just…” You try to get the words out but your muscles are on fire and your chest is tight, so instead you throw the weight down with a grunt before turning to him, “Do you like Jungkook?”

“What?” He blinks at you. “You just said yourself I hated him.”

“Yes, okay I know but you know sometimes you say one thing and you mean another.” You shrug.

Jimins expression remains bland, emotionless.

“You’re asking me if I have… feelings for your boyfriend, correct? That’s what we’re getting at here?” Jimin asks bluntly and you shrink under his intense scrutiny.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you say quietly.

A long silence follows your statement, in which Jimin stares at you, just stares and you cow under his gaze because well, it’s Jimin and he’s pretty fucking intimidating. You look anywhere but at him, the airconditioner, the weights, the treadmill, all while still able to feel him boring holes into the side of your head and you wonder maybe, if you had over stepped. If you had spoken too soon because granted you and Jimin were pretty close but clearly not close enough because to this day he still never really talked about the whole liking boys things or even relationships in general. It made you wonder just how many people Jimin had dated, if he had asked them out, if he was softer, sweeter or—

“You’re really dense you know that?” Jimin shakes his head at you before walking over to the weights, leaving you there slack jawed and a little bit annoyed.

“Hey! Wait up!” You call after him, but he doesn’t, unsurprisingly. “I didn’t mean it like that I was only asking because I wanted to tell you that—”

“Did you watch that new clown movie?” Jimin asks suddenly and he nearly gives you whiplash with how quick he’s jumping topics. You open your mouth to argue, to tell him you were only asking so you could tell him you and Jungkook weren’t really dating but the glint in his eye tells you not to tread there. He’s done talking about it, and by effect so are you.

“No I haven’t.” You sigh, your body slumping in defeat.

“Good,” he grunts, pulling down on the weights before turning his attention to you. And you applaud yourself because you don’t keel over at the sight of a sweaty, sleeveless Park Jimin doing reps on the pull down machine, veins bulging and muscles flexed. He sends you a look that tells you he knows exactly what you’re thinking and makes your back straighten indignantly. “Did you hear what I just said?”

“The clown movie.” You repeat proudly, only for Jimin to roll over and flick your forehead.

“Yes genius, but after that,” he sends you a grin, one you’re not used to seeing. He’s teasing you, but it doesn’t annoy you quite as much as usual, “I said let’s go see it. I figure you owe me after that insult you pulled.”

“Wh—” Your mouth opens and the closes before pointing a finger in his direction, “I didn’t mean it like that, if you would just let me explain—”

“Well I took it that way, you’re the only one stupid enough to date that overgrown toddler. And besides, it’s a simple question. Yes or no?” He frowns and you sigh.

“I mean… I don’t really have anything else to do this weekend so..”

“Good to know I’m a last resort.” He snorts and you hide a flush because if only he knew.

And really, if you looked at the entire thing, your situation with Jimin in retrospect it was truly all your fault. Because no matter how much you claim to have both your feelings and heart in check there is no such thing as control when it comes to love. And so you get your hopes, let yourself hope for a moment, with Jungkook’s earlier words replaying like a soft lull. When really you should’ve taken the idiots advice with a grain of salt. Or just not at all.

listen, the studyblr community can be a wonderful place - but there’s this emphasis on absolute perfection that really doesn’t help a lot of students dealing with other issues on top of their studies. here are five unconventional study tips that might not fit the studyblr aesthetic but have helped me get straight as whilst learning to live with mental health and family problems too!


1. don’t study whilst commuting

i walk to school, so posts about studying on the bus just aren’t helpful - i don’t have the option to do that! even if i’m taking the train somewhere, the last thing on my mind is studying. i’m thinking about my bed and how early it is and whether or not my coffee is cool enough to drink without burning myself yet. not all of us can start working the second we’re awake, and that’s okay!

instead: record your lessons and listen to them as you travel!

even if you’re not paying attention, you’ll remember more than you think! this is especially useful for languages - i recorded myself reading a few essays and listened to them as i walked, which made noticing grammatical errors so much easier!

2. don’t rewrite all your notes

i love the studyblr aesthetic as much as anyone, but i honestly don’t have the time to write out pages and pages of notes in the hope of gaining a few followers. of course it’s nice to have pretty-looking notes, but when you have a huge list of tasks to do, it can become a way of procrastinating work that’s actually needed for a grade.

instead: organise your class notes!

check the material you’ll study before the lesson! if you’re into the brush lettering aesthetic, write out or print titles off ahead of class so you can stick them on your page without having to waste valuable lesson time drawing them. plus, knowing what you’re going to study before you actually come to it means you can prepare a list of questions to ask the teacher and improve your understanding of the subject! this way, you’ll have organised, clear notes from the beginning, so you won’t have to copy anything out at home.

3. don’t buy expensive stationery

i know everyone seems to have those tombow brush pens and leuchtturm journals. as someone who can’t afford them, trust me when i say i get how it feels. but spending money on expensive products (especially ones you don’t know how to use) is just counterproductive - your grades won’t magically go up if you start shopping at muji.

instead: try budget alternatives!

would you buy a £90 contour kit if you’d never used foundation before? the same goes for stationery! substitute for cheaper products from your local stationery stores whilst you get a feel for what’s helpful for you, not what anyone else has. for example, i tried so many types of pens before realising that my writing’s nicest with gel pens, so now i let myself get more expensive ones - but i didn’t waste more than £5 figuring this out because i’m #cheap. this list of popular studyblr dupes is constantly being added to if you really need to try something, but stressing about your stationery is not going to help you in the slightest.

4. don’t worry too much about being organised

look, we’d all like to be organised, but i’m an adult who’s lived with depression since i was thirteen, and i know it’s not always possible to have that pinterest-ready study den. sometimes your homework will be done on a bed that’s not been made in weeks of it’s going to be done at all, and that’s okay.

instead: do what you can.

had a bad day? stick on some guns n roses and do the work later. too exhausted to function? just finish that last maths problem and go to bed. it’s okay to not have a picture perfect lifestyle - most of the people who post those photos don’t have it either. just do what you have to do to get through the week.

5. don’t ignore your mental health

there’s such a weird culture of perfectionism here and it’s so damaging! of course no one has to post about their personal lives on their studyblrs - but please don’t let that lead you to believe it’s not important. this mentality of “everything is fine and i must be perfect” isn’t healthy.

instead: talk about how you feel!

it doesn’t have to be on your studyblr, but if you’re feeling suffocated by pressure to achieve, or you think you’re depressed, or you’re just going through a tough time and need to vent, talk to someone! bottling things up is not a healthy way to live life - believe me, i’ve tried it. it doesn’t work. there are so many impressionable young people here and we need to stop acting like our studies are all we can ever be.


i’m not trying to “call out” anyone who finds the minimalist note taking and study devotion helpful - everyone here is different, and i’m glad it works for you! but not all of us can do that, so this is for the people who can’t.

No Regrets - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Originally posted by little--batman

Summary: Soulmate!AU - When your soulmate gets hurt you receive a flower tattoo on your body on the same location they were wounded. Imagine (Y/N) having her whole left arm covered in flowers while Buckys whole hand was covered in them.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2.3k

Warning: There really isn’t any, unless you’re afraid of Bucky finding happiness. If you’re afraid of that I feel sorry for you.

A/N: First soulmate au?? Been wanting to do this one long before I started this blog??

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When Bucky grew up he didn’t have flowers on him like the other kids. Nobody ever knew that, of course, he was good looking enough to get whoever he wanted at his hip. That’s one main reason why he got along with Steve, Steve never got any either. They both believed maybe they weren’t destined to have a soulmate, of course there was the option that their soulmates maybe never have been hurt but it was a long shot.

After being woken up from his cryogenic stasis and retrieving most of his memories back he realized his whole right hand was covered in flowers. He never believed he had a soulmate but it registered in his head that his soulmate was from a different time period than what he was from. He soon also figured out that Steve also had the same issue; He had a soulmate but was destined to meet them after he woke up from his frozen state.

As for (Y/N)? She had millions of flowers. Some were randomly placed on her body, Bucky had them as well. But the ones that stood out the most were the full sleeve she had on her left arm. She often hid it but lately she began to flaunt it off. Her soulmate had to have had something messed with their whole left arm, it wouldn’t have been that hard to point out in public too. She always looked out for the left arms of strangers in public, but she never had good luck.

Not only that but (Y/N) constantly looked at the hands of people as well. She knew they would have flowers there. She wasn’t as normal and ordinary as others, she had powers that nobody else had. She hid them, she knew what happened to people after they showed others the gifts they possessed. She was practically a human torch, she could heat up anything she wanted. When she was younger she was practicing and accidentally burned her hands, it was so bad that she couldn’t use them for weeks and had to make up an excuse that she did it while cooking something. Of course everyone believed her because nobody thought of the alternative that she had super powers. She hated the way her hands looked, scars covered them from her wrist to the top of her fingers, she would never go anywhere without hiding them with gloves.

She was cleaning up the counters of her job in the middle of the day when an oddly large group walked in. She sighed to herself knowing she would have to take care of them because the only other person on duty was already at another table. (Y/N) was wearing a classic blue and white waitress outfit and her jacket, it was a chilly day so nobody obliged to her clothing choices. She often wore a jacket anyways, only due to the tattoos crawling up her left arm.

(Y/N) walked up to the table that the group had chose to sit at before preparing herself to take their orders. She flipped open her small notebook before taking the pen out of her pocket, plastering a fake smile on her face.

“Hello, I’m (Y/N). I’ll be your waitress today, if you need anything please run it by me! I can order your drinks if you would like and while I go make them I’ll give you time to choose what you’d like to order.” She gave a toothy smile before looking at everyone, waiting for someone to point out what they’d like to drink.

“I’ll just have a water, please.” The blonde male spoke up first and gave you a smile.

“Me too, I’d like a water.” His darker friend next to him ordered the same thing and thanked her shortly after.

“I’ll have a strawberry milkshake and my pal here would like a coffee, please.” A redhead clapped her hands before patting her older friend on the back, receiving a glare that soon turned into a joking smile.

“And you two?” (Y/N) looked at the two males who haven’t given a drink yet. One was looking at the menu while the other was staring off into his lap.

“I suppose you don’t have alcohol here, do you?” A bearded (and clearly) wealthy man gave her a look before setting the drink menu down.

“No sir. The only drinks we have are on that menu.”

“Then I’ll just have a shake as well. Make it a mint.”

She wrote down the drink before focusing her gaze on the quiet man. His head was down and his conscience clearly wasn’t with the rest of them. His long brown hair overlapped most of his face and a hat was covering his eyes. He wore a baggy black sweatshirt and gloves. If anything, he didn’t want to be there and it was very noticeable.

“He’ll have a water too, thanks.” The same blonde from earlier spoke up on the quiet mans behalf. She nodded with a smile before returning to behind the counter to make the drinks. She was almost done until a bit of the mint milkshake spilt onto the sleeve of her jacket. She cursed quietly to the point where only she could hear herself and removed her jacket, setting it in the back room before looking at her tattooed arm in disgust. She always wanted to flaunt her arm around but never while on the job. She mostly got bad looks from it and it often decreased her chances on a tip. If it meant less money, then she wasn’t a big fan.

She finished the drinks before placing them onto a tray and carrying them to the table with one hand. She set half of it down on the table and half balanced with her knee before she started to hand them out towards everyone. When she was finished she set the tray under her arm and pulled out her notebook once again to write down the orders of the group. She smiled to the few who thanked her for the drinks.

“Have enough time to figure out what you want to eat?” She put on the same fake smile as before. They ordered their food one after one and yet again the quiet man was the one that was last to order. She looked up at him only to realize his eyes were strongly fixated onto her arm. Her confidence completely dropped knowing the meaning behind his stare, every time a customer laid eyes onto her arm she felt insecure, she felt as if she should apologize like it was her fault, and so she did.

“I am so very sorry, sir. I’ll go put on my jacket.” She was about to quickly go throw on her stained jacket before he spoke up in a deep, raspy voice. It was the first words he had spoken since he entered the building.

Why do you wear gloves?” She stopped in her tracks and stared at his with wide eyes. By this point the rest of the group had realized why he was so interested in her arm and hands. They all shared the same look, they all wondered if this was Buckys soulmate.

“To hide what’s underneath.” Her eyebrows were furrowed at the mysterious man. She had to admit, she had no idea what his deal was. First he stares at her arm and then asks what she is hiding underneath the leather on her hands. Of course, she was oblivious to what was happening but perhaps it’s because she didn’t know what was under his left arms sleeve.

Buckys right arm pulled down the zipper of his jacket before tearing it off. At the same time he ripped off the gloves from his hands and stared at the flowers inked perfectly around his palms. (Y/N)’s eyes widen as she looked at the cybernetic limb connected to his body. His whole left arm was missing, and her whole left arm was covered. Bucky raised his human hand and showed her the printings on it, his eyebrow raised as he focused his gaze on her covered hands.

Overcoming her ego, she set the tray and notebook down on a nearby table before unbuckling the bucks on her gloves and sliding them off. Her hands were burnt beyond any recognition, if it weren’t for the obvious figure by her fingers and palms, you wouldn’t be able to tell it was actual human flesh. Bucky soon stood up and walked towards (Y/N).

“Come with me.” He whispered into her ear with a stern voice. She quickly caught on before grabbing her notebook and handing it to her co-worker. Her co-worker nodded in agreement, by the look on (Y/N)’s face she knew she needed a moment. She quickly thanked her before running out the front doors to meet up with the stranger who just so happened to possibly be her soulmate. When she walked out he had his hat in one hand balanced on his hip and his other was running through his hair. They stood there silently for a minute before he looked her in the eye and spoke up.

“I have a line of flowers on my lower back.” His hand went to the neck of his shirt before lifting up a bit to show the tattoo on his back. (Y/N)’s hand came to cover her mouth. It was the same scar she received when she was little, it reach from the lower part of her back to the middle. If she wasn’t wearing a dress she would have showed him then and there to prove to him.

You’re my soulmate.” She spoke through her hand. He hands dropped to his sides as he stared at face. He stared at every detail noticeable by the human eye before looking at her burnt hands covering her lips. He saw the way her nose perked out, the way her (Y/E/C) eyes stared at his. Her eyes were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, he could stare at them for hours. He stared at her luscious (Y/H/C) hair and the way it was perfectly laying above her shoulders.

“God, you’re beautiful.” His hand hesitantly came up and caressed hers, overlapping her cheek. Within a second her hands snaked around the boys neck and pulled his body into a tight hug. His body tensed up from the contact but soon after he relaxed and put his around her waist. She set her head in the crook of his neck and smelt his amazing aroma. After a moment of standing there (Y/N) opened her eyes and saw his friends staring out the side window at them. She let out a small giggle before pointing into their direction.

When Bucky turned around he let out a big scoff before giving them the finger, his lips turned into a smile once he heard the beautiful, moment-stopping laugh escaping her lips. He grabbed her hand before giving it a kiss and staring at the scars left on her.

“You shouldn’t hide your hands, you know.”

“And you shouldn’t hide your arm.”

Bucky had stayed with (Y/N), sitting at the bar stool where she normally would be behind the stand. His friends soon left after eating and patted him on his back, knowing he was going to stay for a while. They talked all night like normal people having a normal conversation. He learned about her past and she learned about his.

“So why exactly did you feel the need to put your jacket on earlier when I was looking at your arm? And why do you wear the gloves? I mean I understand the looks you would get from people, I get them too when people see my arm but… I’m just asking why you care of what others think.”

She set the last dirty dish into the washer before turning it on and facing him. “It doesn’t give you the best reputation.” She removed the rubber gloves from her hands and placed them into the trash before lifting her hands and studying every crease and imperfection.

“I hate being known as the girl with the burnt hands. I hate receiving stares and sympathy looks. I hate walking down the street and hearing someone whisper ‘that really must have hurt’. People who want their food suspect that a well professional, that isn’t covered in ink and scars will serve them, hiding them not only satisfies their needs but it gets me more money. It’s just how business works.”

His hands reach for hers and brought them up to his lips. He kissed the top of her hand over and over and looked into her eyes.

“Don’t ever feel like you need to hide anything from me. You’re my soulmate and I wouldn’t want you any other way. Besides, your arm is my fault anyways. If I hadn’t lost my arm then-” (Y/N) smiled at him before cutting him off.

“Don’t. I wouldn’t want you any other way.” His teeth shined through and she mimicked his smile. They had been there hour after hour talking about anything and everything. It was the first time Bucky had truly opened up to someone and he didn’t regret it at all. He loved the way she would smile and laugh at any joke he said, whether it was funny or not. He loved the way she would give him a concerned and loving look after he shared a hurtful memory from his past. He loved the way she would listen to every word he would say, thoughtfully while simultaneously thinking of the perfect thing to say back. He wasn’t even suppose to originally come to this restaurant at first but Steve insisted, and he didn’t regret giving into his best friends wishes. He didn’t regret anything he did in his life because it all led up to this moment, the moment where he met the love of his life.

He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. He didn’t regret a thing.

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Tags:
@gallifreyansass @bellastellaluna @walkingtravesty97 @crazy4thewinbros @iamwarrenspeace @ginger-wayward-assbutt

Dead Serious

Request: hey could you do one with peter, where the reader is studying and, he just wants to hangout with her so he gets whiny and so the reader says “let me finish and we can make out for much long as you like” and then they do. Lots of fluff please :)

A/N: I think I have a problem where because my favourite thing is friends who eventually get together, I never write an “hey we’re already dating" type fic, and this would totally be a prefect one of those but LOL IMA NOT DO THAT STILL. Yikes, sorry if this wasn’t what you were looking for. Lol I’m also gonna do a smutty Part 2.

Word Count: 1338

Masterlist

Part 2 // Part 3

T-48 HOURS UNTIL THE MIDTERM CHEMISTRY EXAM

“And students, please remember that your midterm will be in exactly two days starting precisely when the bell rings, so do not be late,” your teacher said.

Peter leaned over next to you, “Are we studying tonight?”

“I can’t, but how about tomorrow night?” You whispered, trying to make sure the teacher doesn’t hear you.

“What? Got a hot date tonight or something? Too good to see me?” Peter joked.

“If you count a hot date as studying for my French midterm tomorrow, then yes,”

“Y/L/N, Mr Parker, do you have something to share with the class?” Your teacher called back at you.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could go over the different types of reactions one more time, I was struggling with memorizing them and I was just asking Peter for help, but it would be great if you could go over them,” you lied.

Your teacher eyed the two of you before turning around to the chalk board and began writing out different reactions.

“Nice save,” Peter whispered.

“Well one of us had to say something, and since you can’t lie for your life, that duty falls on me,“

“I can so lie,”

“Sure Peter, and I have a pet unicorn,”

“Hey!”

“We go over this all the time, you can’t lie, and that’s exactly why you need me as a best friend,”

“What about Ned?” Peter asked.

“He needs me for the same reason too,”

T-40 HOURS UNTIL THE MIDTERM CHEM EXAM

Peter: Hey Y/N

Y/N: How may I be of service

Peter: Can you paint me like one of your French girls?

Y/N: Peter, why can’t you just let me study?

Peter: Because i’m bored

Y/N: Go bother Ned, i’m busy.

Peter: He has a midterm tomorrow too, he won’t answer my texts.

Y/N: Well how about this, you let me study now and I will entertain you tomorrow after we study ;)

Peter: ugh fine

Peter: But what’s with the winky face?

Y/N: Peter.

Peter: Sorry!

T-39 HOURS UNTIL THE MIDTERM CHEM EXAM

Peter: I’m still curious about the winky face

Y/N: How’s this Parker, you leave me alone tomorrow and I’ll go down on you when we finish studying

Peter didn’t respond for a while

Y/N: Peter did you die?

Peter: You aren’t serious

Y/N: Dead serious.

Y/N: I’ll see you tomorrow ;)

T-24 HOURS UNTIL THE MIDTERM CHEM EXAM

You were sitting in chemistry, barely listening to your teacher ramble on about the different formulas you will need to know for tomorrow when Peter elbowed you to get your attention.

“Are you ready for your French exam?” He whispered.

“No! I’m so nervous. I can read it really well and understand it when someone speaks to me, but I have to write the entire exam in French and I don’t know if i’ll actually do well,”

“Y/N, you doodle in French for gods sake, I think you’ll be fine,”

“I know, i’m just nervous,”

“Listen to me, you’re going to do extremely well, as always. You’ve been taking French for years, you’ve got this in the bag,”

“Mr Parker! Something you would like to share with the rest of us?” the teacher interrupted.

Peter froze, he began stammering out a few words in response to the teacher when you cut in, “Sorry Ms, I was quizzing Peter on elements and their correlating atomic number. We didn’t mean to speak that loud,”

“Studying is for your free time, M®(s) Y/L/N, not class time. Please pay attention and study some other time,”

“Of course Ms. Our apologizes,”

The teacher turned back to the board and continued talking about what she had previously written.

“You need to quit talking so loud. There are only so many lies I can tell,”

T-21 HOURS UNTIL THE MIDTERM CHEM EXAM

At lunch you ran into the car and joined Peter and Ned at your lunch table.

“So?” Peter said

“How did you do?” Peter added.

“Fabulously! I know I did well. I’m about 95% sure I got an A on the exam. I’m so proud of myself. I actually understood what I was reading and what I wrote. I’m feeling really confident about it,”

“That’s awesome Y/N! I told you you’d do great. I’m proud of you,” Peter said.

“Let’s just wait and see how well I do on the chemistry midterm, and then you can decide whether you’re proud of me or not,”

“We’re still on for our study date tonight, right?“ Peter asked.

Ned looked up from his notes where he was studying for his exam in the afternoon.

“Wait, you two are going on a date? Finally. Took you two long enough. You can cut the sexual tension In here with a knife,”

“What?” You choked out

“We-we’re not going on a date. We said study date, Ned,” Peter said.

“I’m going to Peter’s tonight so we can study for our chemistry exam tomorrow,”

“Ha, I get it, you guys are studying YOUR chemistry. Have fun kids, use a condom,” Ned said, standing up and beginning to collect his things, “Well i’m going to the library where there’s less tension floating through the air. Enjoy ‘studying’ tonight guys,”

You and Peter sat silently and waited Ned walk away.

Neither of you were really sure of what to say.

“So do you want to just walk to my place after school together then?” Peter said, eventually breaking the silence.

“Yep!” You agreed.

T-16 HOURS UNTIL THE MIDTERM CHEM EXAM 

It was 4pm by the time you and Peter actually began studying, you were lying on his floor with your textbook and notes open around you while Peter was sitting at his desk.

You spent some time quizzing each other and going over notes before Peter began getting bored. This was once of his best subjects so he really didn’t need to study as hard as you did for this class.

T-13 HOURS UNTIL THE MIDTEM CHEM EXAM

You had been studying for three hours and Peter had started whining approximately two hours previous.

You were still on Peter’s floor surrounded by your study notes. Peter had moved to his bed and was lying down.

“Y/N,“ He whined.

“Yes, dear,” you said, not taking your attention away from what you were reading.

“How much longer do we have to study? i’m booooorrreeeddd. We already know all of this,”

“You already know all of this,” you corrected him.

“But Y/N, you know it toooooo,”

“Peter, hon, if you don’t shut up, or just help me study I might lose my mind,”

“You’ll have to make me stop talking,”

“Okay Peter, how’s this? Let me study now, and later we can make out for as long as you’d like, and maybe I’ll even go down on you,”

Peter sat up, “Wh-what?”

“I feel like at this point, my lips on yours is one sure way that you won’t be talking,”

“I-i- are you serious?” He questioned.

“Dead serious Parker, give me half an hour to review the rest of my notes and you can have your tongue down my throat for as long as you’d like,”

Peter’s eyes widened, and he shut up. You didn’t hear a peep out of him for the next half hour.

T-12 HOURS UNTIL THE MIDTERM CHEM EXAM

When you were finally done reviewing your notes, you put them back into your folder and stood up.

Peter sat on his bed, watching you.

“Were you really serious before, or were you just trying to get me to shut up?” Peter asked.

“I told you, Parker. I’m dead serious,”

ultimate back to school masterpost

it has come…the witching hour…the time of doom is now upon us…okay so obviously ignore me, i’m a huge nerd. but if you’re like me, going back to school is a terrible, nerve-wracking experience. so here are some tips to help you survive this.

1. Do. Your. Summer. Work. If you haven’t started on it now, turn off whatever device you’re reading this on and start working. Many teachers will test you on whatever summer work you were assigned, and occasionally it can count for a significant portion of your first semester grade. Seriously, don’t put it off until the last minute, because then you really won’t want to do it. Plus, then you’ll have more time to focus on binge-watching Netflix uninterrupted. 

2. Whether you’re moving to an entirely new school or just a new grade, things will change this year in some way. You have to be ready for it. And you-yes, you-can be one of those things. It’s never too late to reinvent yourself. Want to dye your hair? Try a new extracurricular? Break a bad habit? Learn a new language? Go for it. 

3. Push yourself, but not at the expense of your mental health. No test or project is worth breaking down over. That being said, procrastination is the enemy of progress. You won’t do it later-and if you do, you won’t do it as well as you could have. 

4. Make time for your friends and yourself. Don’t let school take over your life. Self care and having fun are important too. 

5. Wherever you are, whenever you are, people are going to judge you. It’s how we’re wired-we’re a judgmental species. There’s really no point in worrying about how other people perceive you because you can’t please everyone. You could be an actual saint canonized by the pope AND cure cancer AND negotiate an armistice between the forces of good and the rabid radioactive alien wolves sworn to destroy all humanity and still some people are going to call you “bitchy,” “fake,” “weird,” “trying too hard,” et cetera, et cetera. Be unabashedly you. 

6. You are smart. Really really smart. So what if you don’t have perfect grades or the best ACT score? If you’re trying your best-really, really your best-no one can fault you for it. 

7. People who are confident in the knowledge of their own intelligence don’t: 

  • play the “grade game” i.e. “whadja get??? i’m sure you did great…seriously whadja get tho?? c’mon show me, i won’t tell anyone.” (u know these kids) 
  • loudly complain about getting an A minus/B plus when they know other people didn’t do as well as them
  • say they “didn’t study” every time there’s a test
  • cheat
  • lecture people when they didn’t ask for it
  • brag about their grades/scholarships/other opportunities 
  • compare themselves to/compete with other students constantly
  • condescend to others
  • talk about how much “busier” they are than other students all the time
  • put others down whenever they talk about successes (”i’ve won loads of those; it’s not that hard to do.” “you do know everyone who applied for science olympiad got in, right?”) *the last one someone actually said to me-and it was a blatant lie so double wtf?? 
  • lie about accomplishments when asked (just say you don’t want to talk about it its? not? that? hard?)
  • make fun of people who don’t do as well as you

Bottom line: Be honest with yourself-do you do any of these things? If so, why? The truth is, if you view your academic life as this crazy competition, you’re not going to have any fun, you’re going to lose friends over it, and people aren’t going to see you as a role model to emulate, they’re going to think you’re well…an arrogant, self-centered tool. Everyone loves that you care about school, and everyone can see that you’re really smart and driven. You have nothing to prove, and everything to lose. If you want to do well for yourself, that’s great. But if it’s all about one-upping other people, it’s not worth it. Like in writing, show, don’t tell, how competitive of a student you are. 

8. Good friends don’t: 

  • put you down
  • exclude you
  • stifle you 
  • use you as an emotional dumping ground 
  • stop supporting you 
  • tell people your secrets
  • gaslight you 
  • manipulate you 
  • make you feel unsafe
  • abuse you in any capacity
  • threaten to rescind their friendship for small offenses
  • make jokes that you find offensive 
  • ignore you/give you the silent treatment without telling you what’s wrong
  • pressure you into doing things you don’t want to
  • only hang out with you when their “best friends” aren’t around
  • talk about themselves all the time but never ask you about yourself
  • mooch off you 
  • stop talking to you for no reason
  • refuse to stick up for you when people are being jerks

Bottom line-if you feel like you come in second, if you feel like you’re the one that has to do all the work in the friendship, you have to ask yourself why you’re trying so hard. Having healthy friendships is as important as having healthy romantic relationships. Of course, there are degrees to how toxic friendships can be. I’ve been in some fairly awful ones that I had to cut off completely, but I’ve managed to reconnect with other people who I didn’t have good friendships with (i’m always careful never to get too close to those people though.) If you’re being abused or manipulated by a friend, you need to CUT THAT PERSON OFF. You deserve friends who treat you with respect. If your friends don’t, you’re better off alone (at least until you’ve found some real friends.) 

9. No significant other or crush is more important than your grades, your extracurriculars, or your mental health. If your relationship is taking over your life, take a step back and ask, “Where do I see this going?” Don’t waste time with people who don’t treat you right or people who aren’t interested. When the right person comes along (and they will!), you won’t have to feel nervous or awkward around them. 

10. Study smarter, not harder. Use abbreviations in your notes and find shortcuts to difficult math problems. Of course, do all your homework. It’ll cost you big time in the long run. 

11. Buy some clothes that you actually want to wear, and get rid of the ones that you hate. It’ll make getting up in the morning that much better if you feel confident about how you look. Dress for yourself-you are not “slutty” or “trying too hard” for wanting to look good. 

12. Find your textbooks online so you don’t have to lug them back and forth every day. Don’t wait to buy your supplies-buy them now so you can get good deals and won’t end up scouring every office supply store for that particular brand of pencil. 

13. Participate. Seriously. I didn’t realize what a difference this made until I got to high school. Even if you feel like you’re going to get the question wrong, even if you feel like you’re not smart enough to add anything interesting to the class discussion, say something. Not only does it make the teacher notice you-which in a big class is super important-it’ll show that you’re paying attention and that you want to learn. If you participate, teachers will be more likely to remember you and you’ll feel more confident about yourself, as well as less tempted to doze off or talk to your friends. Do this in all your classes-even the ones you’re not as good at-and you will see better grades-guaranteed (especially if they grade on participation). 

14. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. You’re not stupid if you don’t understand something. If you can, ask someone to tutor you if you’re struggling. Ask the teacher for extra practice on what you struggle with. If no one is asking your question for you in class, you have to ask it yourself, otherwise you’re never going to learn. 

15. Hard test? Start studying 3-4 days in advance. One day review notes and material; the others do practice exercises or quiz yourself. If possible, study with friends-as long as they don’t distract you. Take 5-10 minute breaks in between sessions so you don’t burn out. 

16. Make a studying playlist and a motivational playlist. You’ll be amazed at how much better you feel about studying. Only do extracurriculars you actually enjoy-not ones you just do because you think it will look good on some application or the other. Don’t load up on these activities either or your grades will start to dip. 

17. Know the dates and times of any big standardized tests you’re taking (SAT, ACT, PSAT, AP tests, IB tests, IGSE, GCSE, SAT Subject Tests, etc.). Plan to start reviewing for these at least a month before the exam. (and a month before only if you know you’re really good at that kind of test-taking.)  

18. Edit your essays, once by yourself and once with a friend. Know the format your teacher wants so you don’t have to waste time googling “MLA in-text citation” every time you have an essay due. 

19. This may come as a surprise to you, but you are not the center of the universe. So before you go on long rants about how hard your life is, remember, you have no idea what the person you’re sitting next to might be going through. You are not the only person ever who’s had to juggle hard classes, extracurriculars, a job, and family problems at the same time. Other people are also struggling-what you’re going through is not more difficult or more meaningful than what anyone else is dealing with. This year, make a resolution to ask people questions about themselves, to listen to others, instead of making everything about you. You will be surprised at how much more people will trust you and how many more friends you will make. Also, guess what? Bad days happen to everyone-so stop taking out your frustrations on people that you care about. It’s petty, it’s stupid, it’s not fair, and it’s the quickest way to make your bad day a little worse. 

20. Regardless of whatever happens this year, you will graduate, you will get a job that makes you happy, and you will be a wonderful, intelligent, beautiful, successful human being. If you get nothing else out of this post, take this-don’t get yourself so taken in by that weird, hive-mind-toxic culture that school perpetuates that you lose the ability to deal with the people who are truly important to you. At the end of the day, you want to say that you came out of this school year a happier, wiser person than you entered it. 

here are a bunch of AMAZING fics I’ve enjoyed and loved reading throughout the month of august. I recommend that you read these great fics in september, if you haven’t already!! also check out the HL Summer Fic Exchange!

(all fics with a star are my favorites and if there are two stars then it was a favorite favorite)


1. How Far We’ve Come 32k

“This is Harry Styles,” Chiron offers.

He’s beautiful. His eyes are a stunning green, the color of new foliage. The new kid’s limbs are long and lanky—he looks extremely uncomfortable and uncoordinated. Louis internally smirks to himself, guessing the kid probably won’t be too skilled with a sword, or a bow, or anything sharp, most likely. His hair falls to his shoulders in sets of loose, brown curls. The color is rich and luscious, resembling soil so much that it looks like flowers could sprout from his hairline at any moment. But Louis’ eyes are stuck on his soft looking lips, pink as flower petals and slightly parted as his eyes scan the horizon of the camp.

“Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, Harry.”

2. It’ll All Come Up Roses 4k *

Louis was leaning against the railing of the bridge, looking down at the water completely lost in thought when he heard someone approach the bridge from the side that he came from. Glancing up, he noticed Harry walking towards him, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, and seemingly lost in thought. Louis shifted his weight onto his other foot and stood up properly, watching quietly as Harry walked past him. Louis opened his mouth. He wanted to say something to Harry to break the silence, or at least to get him to notice him standing there against the bridge railing - but the words got stuck in Louis’ throat, and he snapped his mouth shut, going back to staring down at the water mindlessly instead. All the while, trying hopelessly to figure out what the fuck he’s doing with his life. Harry kept walking, and soon Louis was once again left alone to his thoughts.

Or the one where Louis really doesn’t hate his neighbor who keeps waking him up at the crack of dawn. Ft magic, Liam, Niall, and Zayn barely being mentioned, Harry and his fucking motorcycle, a date and a kiss.

3. Freeze This Moment in a Frame and Stay Like This 5k

Harry (not so) secretly crushes on the cute footie player and fills pages with sketches of him.

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Our Little Secret - Part Thirteen

Summary: Your and Dean’s fight hits you hard, you don’t know how to fix it, you don’t know how to talk it out and now you have to work a case that hits a little too close to home.

Series Masterlist

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Kink(s)/Square Filled: Touch Starvation for @spnkinkbingo

Word Count: 6500

Warnings:language, fighting, angst, smut, oral, feels

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. I’m really loving these character and this series. Thank you for your wonderful responses. I also love the debate that this made last night, it’s so special to see people invested enough in these characters that they pick sides. A special thank you to the people who looked this over for me @atc74 and @sylverminx

This is unbetaed, all mistakes are my own

***THE TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES IS CLOSED**

The tears stream down your face, hot and messy, you don’t bother to brush them away. You don’t know where you were planning on going, your feet are stuck here in the dimly lit parking lot as your eyes search, brain on overdrive trying to think of something, anything to make this better.

A hand on your shoulder makes you fling around, scared, you hadn’t heard Sam walk up behind you, “Y/N?”

You don’t say anything, just wrap your arms around your friend and let him pull you against him as he tells you that everything is going to be alright.

His arms loosen and he pulls your face up, “Where are you going?”

“I-I don’t know,” you sob, the words tumbling out.

“Come on,” he wraps his arm around your shoulders, “nothing’s open now anyways.”

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Louis is the only omega to ever make it in the cut-throat world of competitive motorcycle racing—that is, he would be if anyone actually knew about his identity. Now, his sights are set towards competing in—and winning—the European Grand Prix, the biggest and most difficult race of the entire year, so he can disappear underground for good. He’s close enough, too, until an alpha sports journalist is assigned to follow Louis’s every move as he prepares for the event of his career.
Or, an AU where motorcycle racing is the biggest sport in a heavily divided world, Louis is trying to take control of his own destiny, and Harry is in for more than he bargained for.

“I don’t even know who he is, Niall! I just want to know his name or some - ” 

“So why do you keep fucking blushing while talking about him!” 

“You know what, fuck off! I’m gonna find him myself!”

or, The morning after his party Harry wakes up naked on his bed, and there is a Polaroid photo of a stranger right beside him. Harry wants to know who is this tiny little boy that has soft fringe and a smile from heaven. He has endless hope.

The study was to see if two strangers could live together for a month and fall in love.

“We are a new organization working to prove that love can do extraordinary things.”
“You will do everything together & you are not allowed to leave the resort for the whole month.”
“We want to prove that opposites attract.”
Louis is allergic to peaches, Harry smells like peaches.
Louis just came for the money.

It’s June 2013, and the legalization of gay marriage is the most discussed political issue in the country. As a member of parliament Louis Tomlinson has decided to do everything under his power to keep marriage between a man and a woman. Little does he know a boy with green eyes and pink lips from his past is on a mission to change his mind.

Leaflet for Over Again Inc. 
“In relationships, there are three types of people: those who are happy, those who are unhappy but accept it and deal, those who are unhappy and in denial.Handling this last category is our job: we are professional couple breakers.To reach our goal, we use all means necessary.”

Or the Arnacoeur AU in which Harry is scheduled to be married to Liam in 10 days and Harry’s mother hires Louis and his team to break them up.

What happens when an unstoppable object meets an immovable force?

[Space AU. Louis is an astronaut. Harry works for Mission Control. They don’t get along.]

It’s a long plane ride to LA but sitting beside Harry makes time fly.

Louis was staring at him, expecting a response, and Harry was supposed to be the one coming up with that response, and he was so not prepared, so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“Where were you? You weren’t on the bus for a few days.”
Louis raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Uh… Sorry, I just- Um, sort of noticed that maybe you weren’t on the bus since last week. Not that I watch for when you’re on the bus or anything. That would be weird. Obviously, you have your own schedule, and I have mine. I just saw that you weren’t here, so I wondered what you were doing, or if something bad happened, like you got kidnapped or something. God, that sounded creepy. I promise I’m not threatening your life or something. Jesus, just stop me. If you have pepper spray, I would totally understand if you got me in the eyes right now.”
Louis had his lips pressed together at this point, holding back a laugh. Harry really didn’t blame him for that.

Or, the one where Harry just really wants to talk to Louis. And when he finally does, everything he says just comes out wrong.

Harry’s one of Hollywood’s biggest actors, has made a name for himself in prestigious films and lives the life of a superstar. There’s just one thing missing to make it picture-perfect, but the one Harry’s in love with is completely out of reach for him. Enter Louis, one of Hollywood’s biggest actors himself, who just came out of the closet and taps new genres in the industry. When Louis sacks the role Harry auditioned for in Scorsese’s next big film, their irrational feud starts. Who could have guessed it would get even worse when for promo season, their teams decide to present them as a couple for publicity?

In short, Harry’s in love with someone and doesn’t care about dating anyone else, Louis never felt home in L.A., Liam writes love songs for someone he shouldn’t write love songs to, and Niall makes everything better with good food.

“I hate frats,” Louis repeats for what feels like the millionth time.“Yes, I’ve heard, once or twice or every day for the past three years,” Liam says. His careful tone reminds Louis of how his mom always sounds when one of his siblings is on the brink of a tantrum.Louis glances speculatively at Liam’s frat brothers, who are still huddled together and chatting, with the exception of the one who’s looking in Louis’ direction. Maybe Louis shouldn’t rule out a tantrum. While making a scene wouldn’t actually free him from fraternity nonsense in the future, it would at least be entertaining.

AU where Louis hates fraternities and would never be into a frat boy. And one of these things is definitely not a lie.

Louis doesn’t get out too much due to his shyness. The only two friends he has he met online and they both live miles and miles away. Then along comes a cute bartender that completely flips Louis’ life upside down.

Louis Tomlinson has just landed his dream job, coaching soccer at Augustus University. When he moves into a new house near campus, he meets his very fit new neighbor, English professor Harry Styles. Although their first meeting leads to an instant mutual dislike, the more Harry gets to know Louis, the more he likes what he sees.

Or the one where Harry’s African grey parrot spills his dirty secrets to his very hot neighbor.

Aspiring writer and all-around office gopher Harry Styles is desperately trying to establish himself as a hard-hitting journalist at the famous men’s magazine M™. When his editor-in-chief asks for a last minute volunteer, Harry jumps at the chance to write his first real assignment.Suddenly, Harry is tasked with writing a 10-day, exclusive, personal feature on roguishly handsome rising star, Football darling, and pain-in-the-arse diva Louis Tomlinson’s coming out. Harry just wants to write his story. Louis isn’t going to make it easy. Oh bloody buggering fuck.

“I hope our paths will ‘croissant’ again.”
There’s a little smiley face drawn next to the words, and it’s ridiculous, Louis knows, but he can’t help the swell of butterflies that he feels as he reads over the words once more. 
An odd fellow indeed, he thinks.A moment later he shakes his head and collects himself, because he really does need to get home; he’s sure that Harry is probably watching him from behind the counter, all sweet, smug smiles and pink cheeks. And if he’s being honest, he’s not entirely sure he won’t toss his groceries into the trash and walk straight back into the bakery if he doesn’t leave now, so… he really does need to get going. Before he goes on his way, though, he plucks the note from the top of the container and carefully tucks it inside of his wallet to protect it from the rain.That’s how it begins.

Harry hums, staring at his hands in his lap, and Louis can still feel their smoothness, how solid they were in between his own. “Do you think it’s the same for us? Are we here only because of the likeliness of our jobs? Of our lives?”
“We’re here because we have inventive managers,” Louis says, giving Harry’s leg a little nudge with his knee, but all that’s going around in his head is, I think I’d be in the same spot in every possible universe.

Or, when actor Louis Tomlinson used to daydream about dating Harry Styles, this is not what he had in mind.

AU. Louis Tomlinson is trying desperately hard not to fall for his son’s au pair, but he can’t, for the life of him, remember why.

[475. The hope that this fear is unfounded.]

They walk slow, unhurried, and they talk about everything, the earth and the glaciers and themselves, little bits and pieces. Harry finds himself falling open, caving in like the crevices that run like cold veins from the icy lakes. It feels strange to talk this way. He feels like he should be having this conversation hidden under his covers, whispering in the dark. It feels like the kind of talk that means too much, that means trust and revealing the small things that make up the bigger ones, except they’re both barely blinking an eye.

Or Harry is a WWF journalist with big dreams and Louis is a glaciologist that flies helicopters for fun. Greenland is an odd place to spend Christmas, but just maybe, the perfect place to fall headfirst into love.

“Somewhere between chaos and control — these are the wonderlands.”
Harry’s daughter, Andy, is signed to Louis’ girl band. Her path to success is marked by competition, chaos, and for Harry, a love affair.

I have a story for everyone.

My Mom is a mutant.

To be specific, she has a disorder called Factor V Laiden Thrombophilia (same as me *waves*), a genetic mutation that causes abnormal clotting of the blood. When treated appropriately (I can never take birth control, I’ll develop complications if I ever get pregnant if I’m not careful, and in situations such as long flights I have to make sure to move around as often as possible), it’s manageable.

There’s always a very real sense of danger, however. See, blood clots can form anywhere in the body, and *move* anywhere if not caught quickly enough. If it moves to the heart or the brain, you’re screwed, plain and simple. Even if it doesn’t, and it just stays in your leg and eventually goes away, for example, it leaves damage that is often irreparable.

Fifteen years ago, when my Mom was pregnant with my youngest sister and what would have been her twin, she developed a bloodclot in her left leg. It was late enough in her term that attempting to get rid of it would have meant terminating the pregnancy, and my Mom, after asking if she would die from it and being told no, decided to not go through with the procedure. She lost one of the twins, gave birth to my baby sister, and ever since then has lived with a disability that puts her in constant pain.

The first time I saw her with her bad leg, it was when I was six-years-old. She came home with my little sister–I had to hold her since my Mom needed crutches to get around. She screamed the entire time she walked down the hallway to her room. It hurt her that badly. I’ve never felt more helpless in my entire life. The sound of her crying like that has never ever left me.

The best way to describe the physical atttributes of her leg would be like taking a hot knife and stripping off all the skin of your lower leg. Among the symptoms she’s had for over a decade include: swelling to the point that she’s torn pants, weeping–which means the wound on her leg that never goes away because of the poor bloodflow leaks fluid–to the point that she has to wrap a towel around it, bleeding, the skin cracking and falling off on a regular basis, a higher chance of getting infections (in the past four years, she’s had two staph infections, one of which resulted in an emergency room visit), and the almost complete assurance that in the next ten years, she’ll be completely wheelchair bound.

She raised me and my three other siblings on her own with that disability after my Dad left and our extended family stopped giving a shit about us, and as often as she frustrates me, I want to be able to help her. She has done *so* much for me, and seeing her in pain every single day, having her crying in bed because she thinks nobody will ever love her again because of her bad leg, seeing her cycle through seasons of depression only to fight back with everything she has, seeing the look of hope when she finds something that might fix her leg only to learn that it’s too expensive to get the treatment, kills me. Knowing that it’ll only get worse without proper help hurts more than I can properly articulate. She isn’t the perfect mother, not by a long shot, but I love her and I want to be able to help.

The thing with her leg nowadays is that the bloodclot is gone. It has been for about a decade. It’s the damage it did to the veins that remains. We have yet to encounter a doctor willing to attempt surgery to replace the damaged vein, and everything else has been more for dealing with it than actively trying to find a solution.

We have found one possible one, however. An oxygen treatment that has been proven to help restore bloodflow. The problem is, the treatment is expensive and considered experimental, so it isn’t covered by our insurance.

You’re probably wondering where I’m trying to get at with all of this. It’s simple. One treatment costs 150 dollars, and my Mom would need to do about eight of those in the span of a few months to see any actual improvement. I want to change that. I want to be able to go up to her, tell her, “I’ll handle paying for the oxygen treatments to fix your leg.” I want to be able to see some hope on her face again, instead of the near-constant acceptance that she can’t change it no matter how hard she wants to.

I’m still just that six-year-old kid that wants to help her Mom. The only difference is, I’m not helpless anymore.

On my Patreon, I make a grandiose show of how I want it to help launch my career as a professional writer, which is true, but nestled deep in those descriptions is one throwaway line about helping to pay for medical bills. I didn’t delve deeper into how on there, since as this post shows it gets rather long-winded, but of the many medical bills that comes with this family, the need for my Mom to get this treatment is starting to creep higher and higher. She’s already showing signs of being unable to walk, and her leg is slowly but surely getting worse. Her doctors have even started talking about possible amputation if there isn’t any improvement.

In short, I’m asking you guys for help, because I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want to see my Mom in pain anymore. I know how to help her, but since losing about $500 worth of income last month, my paychecks go towards the bills and such that we already have. I haven’t been able to save like I used to, and the longer we wait the less likely we’ll be able to fix anything.

I need your help, guys. My Mom needs your help. I know this is a longshot. I know I’m not popular, I’m not beloved in a way that warrants having money thrown at me for no good reason, my creations are still fledgling, I know there are people out there that have it so much worse, but I’m still taking this chance. I’m coming with my nose pressed to the ground before you in supplication, and asking from the bottom of my heart: please, help my family.

Whether this story warrants that is beyond me, but stories are all I have.

If you can offer anything, thank you. If all you can do is read this, thank you. There isn’t any guilt here. It’s simply a story and a question from someone with nowhere else to turn. Those don’t always need responses.

different ways to be intimate

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Just small descriptions of non-sexual acts of intimacy with Tom.

*Notes: This is for Cassie ( @purelyparker ). She’s having a really rough time right now, just wanted to make it a little less rough :) xoxo


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Tom and you had been dating for a little over seven months – agreeing to take things slow between you two, especially when both of your schedules were busy, you two had very rare physically intimate moments. It had started with shameless flirting, not expecting it to go any further than that. Then, out of nowhere, you two were going on dates. They weren’t official, he’d ask if you wanted to get ice cream with him, some days coffee. You’d ask him if he’d like to come over and watch a movie or go to the park with you. It was very subtle, so subtle that neither of you realized what was happening. Soon enough, verbal ‘goodnights’ became kisses on the cheeks, slowly turning into kisses on the mouth.

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