this is why the fishing tag is so important

Half Past Three

Pairing: Jordan Fisher x Reader 

Warnings: A curse word or two? 

Word Count: 1,286

A/N: I saw this prompt and thought it was cute: “I call you at 3 AM to talk about random stuff when I can’t sleep, and somewhere between ‘Do pandas like rock music’ and ‘Why can’t fish dance,” I ended up admitting that I love you.” Also sorry this took so long to post, life’s just been crazy! I hope y’all like it! :) 

Tagged: @sunriseovertheroomwhereithappens, @icanneverbesatisfied, @jzzyjones, @afalsacientista

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pureren  asked:

❤️ !! (sorry im working on yours but i have others to do before yours and im slow af lmao!!)

(Aahhh you still got to your answer quicker than I got to this why am I so slow all the time!!!!!)

Tessa! Aahhhh where do I even start with you??
You’re such a warm and enthusiastic presence on my dash! I love how you interact with your followers, how you tell us the funniest stories in your tags (honestly the amount of times you go for self-derision and I’m just here thinking “same”, unbelievable), it’s just great to see really friendly people like you in the fandom! You really get that fandom is all about sharing, you spread your love for characters and ideas in a way that gets to us all, you’re so positive and we’re lucky to have you around!
Also I’m still very confused about what I’ve done to deserve the love from someone as radiant as you (honestly how did you even come across my blog lmao) BUT I’LL TAKE IT <3 <3 <3
Long story short you are an excellent bean and I appreciate you v much ^3^

Yoongi; again and again

❝okay the thing about me writing sequels or a follow up story is that i’m afraid i won’t like, meet your expectations but since many some of you wanted it… i guess it’s better than nothing . - . /flings self into the sun 
►2989 words | scenario, college!au, a follow up for stolen words
© (photo credit)

Ever since that first day, you have no idea how, when, what you’ve done that managed to stick out in people’s minds because now when you walk down the halls, they’re either giving you approving looks or those pair of eyes that gave off a vibe that they expect something from your or something. Which is why you rarely go down those halls—aha, being here for a month, you’ve traced out all the hidden passage ways that consisted of little people, the ways around the college without needing to bump into faces you don’t want to see and believe you, even on the first day you have listed a few people on your blacklist to avoid for the rest of your life.

Just because.

And that blondie can join in on that list, being the first. His posse isn’t that bad, so you didn’t bother putting them on the imaginary list that only existed in your mind because if someone found that list, fuck no.

Tuesdays were interesting—it had your favorite class, your mornings were free, and you had no roommate to accommodate with or whatsoever—perfect.

The go-to-place that you call yours is somewhere no one goes to, one. Somewhere that it’s quiet, though loud in the early morning sometimes, mostly quiet, two. It’s the rooftop of the dormitory areas, three. Simply because you live on one of the highest floors and it’s just a few minutes-walk which was convenient to begin with. By the time you’ve reached your designated area, you’re flipping out your book to analyze the skylines you’ve memorized since a week or two ago. The outlines and city lines are traced out onto your book and you need a little bit of color to bring it to life. Your eyes take in the image as fast as you possibly could and you never resort to taking pictures because you want the genuine feel—though, not sure how accurate that was, this would suffice. The sun rises and there’s nothing more to anticipate for when the colors are jotted down on the page and by the time you’re about to leave, a figure by the door is blocking your way and fuck, it’s like in the horror movies.

Someone’s going to push you off, your notebook will be beside your head and damn it, it’s going to get ruined by blood.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You’re staring at the figure whilst glancing around, wondering what the hell you could use as a weapon until the sunlight passes through the window and you see a blonde streak. With a scoff, you roll your eyes and reach for the door, lunging it open and he stumbles back before swiftly spinning around, bewildered is his expression, chilled is what he’s going for.

Cocky is what he sees, curious is what you truly feel.

“Wow, you couldn’t have knocked before you open the door?” He snaps, huffing and fixing his hair before he shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and you click your tongue, “There’s a wall beside you, ever heard of using that instead?”

You’re pretty sure he catches that glare you give him before you brush past him and just as you’re about to slip through his fingers like the countless of times of passing by in the hallway, he finds the guts to step forward, latching his hand on your wrist, “W-Wait!”

I knew it, I knew it, how did I ever know?

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