this seriously made me gasp out loud when i first read it

food truck au 2/??

(PART ONE HERE)

Jack had one blissful week of texting Eric in peace before his teammates caught on.

“ZIMMBONI,” Tater shouted across the dressing room at the end of practice that day. “Who you texting that make you smile so big?”

In a scary sort of tandem, Ransom and Holster whipped around to look at him.

“Yeah, Zimmboni,” Holster parroted. “Who ya texting?”

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2x08 coda because so much happened and my boys need to talk 

Once the others have finally poured out of his home, taking at least part of the nervous energy still lingering against the walls with them, it takes Magnus a few seconds to locate Alec and he feels a twinge of anxiety when he realizes that he’s left the safety of the loft in favor of the balcony. Even knowing he’s undone the spell that allowed his guests’ greatest fears and insecurities to fester, the thought of Alexander alone up there makes him vaguely nauseous, images of Alec’s graceful fall too fresh in his mind, too painful still, for him to bear it. 

If he had been a few seconds late… 

But Alec is nowhere near the ledge now. He’s sitting on the sofa, forearms resting on his thighs and head in his hands, fingers tensed and angry where they’re gripping his hair. 

It’s been a long evening for all of them, upsetting at its best and terrifying at its worst, and Magnus wishes there was an easy way to approach this, a simple phrase that could make it all better for both of them. 

He makes his way the couch carefully, steps loud enough to alert Alec of his presence, before letting his body drop heavily next to him. He links his fingers together between his legs, resisting the urge to touch Alec, to force him to look up so he can try and read his face. Instead, Magnus presses his thigh against Alec’s in what he hopes is a comforting manner. So much happened in so little time and he has no idea where he should even start.

He’s still trying to figure it out when Alec speaks first.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he says fiercely into his hands.

“Alec-” 

“I’m not,” he repeats and Magnus knows what’s hiding underneath, the guilt and anger of all the times Alec has felt he failed the people who matter the most to him.

“Hey,” Magnus says instead of replying, putting a careful hand on Alec’s body, adding a hint of magic to his touch, warmth and safety against the broadness of his back. “I know what you’re trying to say but that’s not on you.” 

“Yes, it is,” Alec argues, body tense like the string of his bow. 

“It’s on all of us,” Magnus argues, keeping his voice calm despite the anger boiling in his veins. “Shadowhunters, Downworlders…. we’re all going to pay for Valentine’s actions if he’s not stopped.” 

He still can’t quite believe Clary kept her secrets for so long when they all should have been working together to stop Valentine’s plan. 

“I know,” Alec replies, leaning into Magnus’ body for a second before taking his hands off his face and straightening his back. “I know that, but that’s not…” he sighs, frustrated. “That’s not what I meant.” 

It’s been a long time since Magnus has been on the other side of such fervent protectiveness and he shivers a little at the intensity of Alec’s determination, mind flickering to the charm he now carries everywhere. 

“The thought of losing you…” Alec continues, closing his eyes and shaking his head like he’s trying to convince himself that saying whatever he wants to say is okay, is allowed. “I just found you,” he says softly, trying again. “And thinking about what might happen to you…. it’s just… unbearable.” 

“Well now you know how I felt, seeing you out there,” Magnus replies seriously, gesturing towards the ledge, heart beating faster at the sound of Alec’s sincerity. “And I think you know I can easily take care of myself.” 

“I know,” Alec sighs. His eyes wander to the ledge for a second and he grimaces, clearly uncomfortable at the thought of talking about it, but aware that he can’t say nothing, that Magnus won’t be satisfied by that. “I’m sorry if I scared you,” he whispers. “The spell messed with my head, it’s true but I.. I don’t… I don’t want to talk about Clary or Jocelyn. Please.”

Magnus waits for a second, looking into Alec’ anguished face, his closed eyes and defeated posture, and he wishes he could drop it, he really does. 

“You’re not weak Alexander.” 

Alec flinches, trying to move away from Magnus’ body but he’s too quick, moving both of his hands to grip Alec’s shoulders. 

“Letting a demon in,” Magnus whispers directly into Alec’s ear, “feeling consumed by guilt… even failure; none of those things make you weak.”

“Magnus,” Alec begs shakily. 

There are things magic can’t fix, memories that burn deeply within Alec’s core that only time can soothe and no matter how powerless Magnus feels, he has to accept it. 

“Okay,” he whispers before kissing Alec’s shoulder, right next to where his thumb is still digging into the flesh. He lets go slowly, starting to move away from Alec when he feels him grabbing his hand. 

“Thanks,” Alec says, voice small but grateful. “And I’m sorry about tonight.” 

“That wasn’t your fault.” 

“I mean about my mother… and Max,” Alec says with a gulp, eyes wide and sad.

Magnus smiles softly. “I knew what to expect from Maryse when I agreed to throw this party, Alexander. And Max is just a curious child.” 

“Yes but…” Alec hesitates for a second before inhaling deeply and exhaling. “I’m still sorry if he made you feel uncomfortable,” he says after a few seconds, reaching up to stroke Magnus’ temple with a few calloused fingers, stopping in the corner of his eye. 

Magnus feels his smile slipping and he wishes he could hold on to it, wishes he could pretend for a few more seconds, but he feels exposed, cracked open, and Alec has already taken a peek at the rawness inside. 

“I’m more worried I made you uncomfortable,” Magnus admits in a small voice. 

“What?” Alec frowns, looking sincere and offended and isn’t that the most incredible thing. “No, no. You could never make me uncomfortable,” he says vehemently. “Not for that,” he adds softly, leaning in to press a tender kiss in the corner of Magnus’ eyes. 

Magnus leans into the touch, appreciating the warmth of Alec’s body against his, the warmth of his reassuring words. 

“A lot of people have been,” he admits and he wasn’t planning on saying that until it slipped right out of his mouth. He can feel Alec exhale against his skin, heated and tickling. 

“I can’t imagine how,” Alec replies and Magnus turns his head to face him, letting the glamour drop easily. Alec gasps in response, a tiny thing that doesn’t sound disgusted or overwhelmed. “You’re so…” he smiles, cheeks reddening. 

“So what?” Magnus asks, curious now that Alec’s face is painted with embarrassment. 

“Kind,” he replies like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Oh,” Magnus says in a small voice and he has been called many things in his lifetime but he’s rarely been called kind, even if he’s always tried to be.

 “Clever,” Alec continues, hazel eyes bright with intensity. “Beautiful. Powerful.”

“Alright,” Magnus chuckles, putting a hand on Alec’s chest to try and stop him.

“I just mean…. that it’s another part of you and there’s isn’t a part of you I haven’t liked so far.” 

“Oh Alexander,” Magnus teases, a hint self-deprecating, “that will come.” 

“And I’m looking forward to it. To get to know all the parts of you that fit with me and all the parts that don’t… and all the ways we’re gonna work to be together despite those.” 

Alec clears his throat and lets his gaze wander to where their legs are still touching. He starts fidgeting like maybe he didn’t mean to reveal this much and Magnus is almost glad that he broke their eye contact because it gives him the time to blink a couple of times and stop himself from crying. 

There are so many things that Magnus could say, so many feelings intertwining in his chest. Instead, he grabs the lapel of the suit he carefully chose for Alec and drags him into a bruising kiss, swallowing the way Alec sighs and moans so beautifully. 

They’re still pretty lucky, despite it all. 

Writing is Hard, Part 4: Dry Humping

Summary: Dean doesn’t understand the allure of dry humping.

Read Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 3000ish

A/N: This is all written with love for fan fic. I’m teasing, not putting it down in any way. Hope you enjoy! XOXO


“Where does Sam think you are right now?”

Dean shrugs at you, hair dripping from the light rain that’s falling. “Can I come in?”

You head back for your chair, next to the table that holds your pizza, and leave the door open behind you. Dean follows, shrugging out of his jacket and shaking his head like a dog, though his hair is too short for it to do much good. “I told Sam I was coming to your room,” he says, a forced casual tone to his voice as he drops that bomb.

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Secret Identity

Stripper!Au Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Just a good old Stripper fic.

Word Count: 3,671

Warnings: Crack fic, Language, Drinking, Suggestive Stuff… (come on)

A/N: I don’t know what happened. It’s incredibly long… but I had fun ;) Since I don’t have anything better, this is my gift for 2.5k Thank you all so much ♥

Originally posted by ddee99

“Are you serious?”

“No, I’m Wanda,” your friend replied with a proud smirk.

You rubbed the spot between your eyes where you could feel a headache coming. Wanda was in charge of Natasha’s bachelorette party. You were supposed to spend the evening in a fancy restaurant, but clearly Wanda had other plans.

“I love it!” Natasha took your hand and made you follow her.

You paid the entry fee and walked into the strip club. It was noisy and surprisingly bright. You cringed as the smell of alcohol hit your nose. Wanda gave you her best innocent smile and looped her arm through yours.

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2

A/N: This is the kind of stuff I came up with at the pool in Croatia. I can’t really tell if that’s a good thing or just really, really bad. Anyway, I hope it’s kinda enjoyable to read!

Words: 1683
Warnings: oral sex, swear words

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Holy hell, guys! I’m seriously blown away by the fact you actually enjoyed my first ‘Imagine’. Seeing as some of you liked it, I think i just might continue writing whatever ideas pop into my head ;)

Originally posted by w-i-t-c-h-e-r-y

Anonymous asked: Your Jeff imagine has me absolutely SHOOK! You’re so talented. Are you planning on writing a part 2?

Anonymous asked: YOUR JEFF IMAGINE WAS SO FUCKING PERFECT IM GRINNING LIKE A HYENA. OHMYGODDDDDDD and ik u said you aren’t taking request but like if you ever feel up to it if you made a part 2 to that imagine like the “date” part id forever kiss the ground you walk on lmfaooooo. But ya. You’re an amazing writer 😭

Imagine Jeff picking you up for your Valentine’s Day date. Dinner is not what you were assuming and you find out Jeff had a helping hand in finally opening up to you.

Jeff X Reader pt.II

Your knee bounces nervously as you wait for Jeff to pick you up and your mother watches you with a small knowing smile. "So who is this boy? Do I know him?“

You try hard to not roll your eyes. "Yes, mom. It’s Jeff,” you deadpan, but try with all your might to slow your beating heart. “Jeff from the eighth grade who I had a terrible crush on.”

A sharp, sudden inhale of breath has you looking towards your wide-eyed mother. When you were little, you used to tell her everything, but puberty changed things and you two didn’t quite talk as much. “Jeff.. Atkins!” She nearly squeals. “When- how?!”

“The other day,” you sigh and meet her gaze head on. “Tony and Clay were poking fun at me for turning down all the jocks asking me on a date, so I made it into a little challenge.”

Mom smirks as she takes a seat next to you, eager to hear more. “Go on.”

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7 | Tomorrow

BTS MAKNAE LINE X READER AU

WORD COUNT: 4,443

WARNINGS: SWEARING, ANGST, FEELS, ETC

masterlist | ask | prev | next


“What do you mean the baby isn’t yours?” You asked, wide eyed in complete shock.

“It’s Jimin’s…” Tae began, his thick brows knitted together in despair and heartbreak, “There’s no way that the baby can be mine, it has to be Jimin’s. I can’t call the police and tell them about the accident because he’s the father of Yumi’s baby, I can’t do that to her… Or the baby.” His eyes welled up with salty tears, Yumi must have meant much more to him than you’d thought.

Cautiously shifting closer to him you rested your hand on his tense forearm to try and comfort him, however your efforts deemed futile as he brushed you away from his body and stepped back.
“Y/N… I don’t know what to do-, she doesn’t know that I know, that I’ve figured it out… I don’t even think she knows about Jimin and the car.”

“How did you figure it out?” Your voice merely a whisper as the shock of the situation pierced through your body, a cocktail of jealousy at how much your ex boyfriend cared about his mistress and genuine heartache for what he was going through. Yumi and Jimin were expecting a baby, and yet Jimin had no idea.

“The dates don’t add up, she must’ve conceived before we even had sex; and as for the accident… Ask Jungkook, you guys seem to be getting pretty close.”


3 WEEKS LATER


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You Have Me

Fandom: The Hunger Games

Word count: 2170

Characters: Finnick x reader

Warnings: Flashbacks to the reader murdering someone, general Hunger Games issues, references to depression

Summary: You fall in love with Finnick after you win the Hunger Games.

You walked into the Victor’s Village alone, twisting your hands together unconsciously.  You had sent the camera crews away as soon as you could, because having a swarm of cameras pointing at you still felt strange.

Huh. You’d killed people, and it was the cameras that bothered you. That probably just showed the type of person you’d become.

Victor’s Village was quieter than you’d though it would be. At least it meant that you wouldn’t have to talk to anyone, though. It had been so long since you had a moment to yourself.

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A Favor Returned

Just a stupid little New Year’s Eve ficlet, almost 2 months late, but who cares?

summary: modern AU. Emma is scelebrating New Year’s Eve with her girls, and they are having fortune cookies of a special kind. A handsome, but infuriating stranger doesn’t help to lift the mood…

rating: k for kissing ;)

also on: ff.net and ao3


Like every year, Ruby Lucas makes a big show giving out the small tulle packets with the homemade fortune cookies she brought back to Boston from her Christmas visit to her grandmother. It’s tradition that she and her bunch of friends each get one to open at midnight on New Year’s Eve.

Like every year, she reminds them, “Granny says not to open them before midnight!”

Like every year, her girlfriend Mulan jokes, “Wait, those are Chinese, shouldn’t I be the one giving them to you?”

Ruby rolls her eyes, “Don’t be so cliché. It’s getting old.”

Emma Swan frowns suspiciously at the cookie in her hand. “Wait, this is a trick? There’s some stupid message inside just to…”

To be fair, it wouldn’t be the first time. Granny Lucas, at whose house Emma spent a lot of time in her youth, has tried more than once to send encouraging messages especially to her. Over the last years, however, it has become more and more annoying, and Emma started to feel the pain of every only single among a bunch of friends who are all happily taken. Endearing as it is that they all care so much for her, it’s still unnerving when even your youth’s friend’s grandmother tries to get you to finally find a boyfriend – or a girlfriend, whatever floats your boat, as Granny put it so eloquently.

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One Punch Two Punch

Request from @caps-bucky-bear: Hi! Can I request a protective! Buckyxreader where either Steve or sam is sparring with her and maybe hits her a little too hard. And Bucky gets defensive saying not to be so rough with her. And just lots of fluff if you can??? I’m in love with your writing btw, thank you :)

A/N: Hey there, darlin! I have to say, I really loved writing this so I hope you like it!!!

Pairing: BuckyxReader

Word Count: 1133

Warnings: None


   “You sure you’re ready for this?” Sam asks.

   “Of course,” I scowl at him and widen my stance, lifting loose fists to chest height. “Get on with it, Wilson, I’ve got a debriefing to get to in twenty minutes.”

   “Are you really sure about this? I don’t want to hurt you, especially with the way your winter boyfriend is glaring at me from the bench over there.”

   “He’s not my boyfriend yet,” Bucky grunts from the sideline and I shake my head, ignoring his sound of protest. “I swear, I will put you on your ass and show everyone who keeps insisting that I need to be taught self-defense that I can take care of myself if you don’t just get on with it.”

   Sam shakes his head and sighs quietly. “Fine, but if you get hurt and Barnes decides to take it out on me, I’m coming for you.”

   “Yeah, whatever. Less talking, more punching.”

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Take It Back *Peter Parker x Reader*

Originally posted by haddyaf

Originally posted by friendshipfeelsbetter

Prompt:  “I love you.”

“Take it back. I was going to say it first, for god’s sake. Not again.”

Warnings: Teen! - Peter being cute af 
A/N: My close friend @full-of-sins-not-tragedies has made me trash for Peter, I’d hate her but I can’t. She also helped with the ending, so yay!- Rosalie


You lived in the apartment above Peter. You also attend the same school as him, yet you don’t exactly hang around with him there. You don’t really have all that much in common with him, it seems like an unlikely friendship but it happened one night. You were sat on the roof of the building, alone and just thinking to yourself. It had been your place to just be alone, home life was hectic and full of arguments and the roof seemed to be the one place in the building that wasn’t noisy.

Peter had appeared beside you, he didn’t talk to you or was even sitting beside you. He had a hoodie on, hands in his pockets, he offered a gentle smile and looked back over the view… and that’s really how it all began. One smile and one peaceful night.

You met him often on the roof, either in silence, sharing earphones for music or talking. His company was calming and safe; you hadn’t felt safe in a long while. Yours and Peter’s rooftop times together were just between you both, like your own little secret. At school you didn’t speak to one another, you didn’t even sit next to each other on the bus home. It was just a thing you two had that no one knew about.

Maybe that’s why things changed for you. You wanted to be around him, more than just the roof times, you wanted to see the inside of his place. You wanted to sit with him at lunch, you wanted to know his friends and him know yours, you wanted to be… with Peter. You just didn’t know if he wanted that too. He had always been shy, a little dorky- well, a lot dorky- at times and it was difficult to read into the small smiles, lingering touches with him.

You feel someone sit beside you, there long legs also dangling off the edge of the building. Blue washed denim jeans and black trainers, hoodie on and hands inside the pockets. You don’t have to look at him to know it’s Peter! You don’t speak or even glance at him, your eyes watching the sun disappear and the night takes over. Your mind was fogged with all the emotions you had for the boy sat beside you, everything about him; his smell, his smile, his unruly hair at times and that dorky face. You couldn’t think properly and you thanked the heavens for the fact he wasn’t talkative tonight.

He sighed gently, you could feel him look at you and you wanted to look back but the fear of blurting something stupid, possibly ruining whatever this is between you both. Your impulse is only so high, you looked back at him, he gave a gentle smile and tilt of his head; a silent question of if you’re okay. You nodded once, staring into his eyes for what felt like a lifetime and honestly, it might as well have been and you wouldn’t have cared.

You go to speak but your throat closes up, the words you want to say are stopped and instead your mind kick starts itself. If you don’t say anything now, you may never will and be stuck in this loop of wanting to tell him and never telling him.

“I love you.”

You frowned, did you say that? No, you didn’t, you stare at Peter who looked hopeful, pink tinging his cheeks as he stared at you for a response. His hands fiddling in his lap, he bites nervously on his bottom lip.

“Take it back.” You gasp, Peter frowns with confusion and so do you. “I was going to say it first, for God’s sake. Not again.” You huffed, crossing your arms out of frustration, till you hear a light chuckle and glance to your left and see Peter chuckling to himself.

Peter continues to chuckle to himself, glancing at you when he finally stops. His smile fading at your very serious, not amused face. “Really? Are you seriously going to make me take that back?” He asked voice light in the crisp night air.

“Yes!” You nodded, all seriousness and no humour behind your words. “I do, I want to say it first. So, take it back!” You demand to him, he raised his eyebrows at you but sighs when you don’t let up.

“Fine, I take it back. Pretend I never said anything to you,” he looks back out across the city, giving you time to find your words and courage as your heart picks up in speed.

You take a deep breath, glancing your eyes up to meet Peter’s stare. You give a little, shy smile and it’s like a weight is off your shoulders because you know he loves you but it’s still frightening having to admit this feeling out loud. “I love you… Peter.” you grin, you had finally admitted your feelings.

“Thanks.” Is all Peter responds with, turning to look back at the scenery, you frown at him. “I’m not saying it again, you made me take it back.” He shrugs, a little grin fighting to come up on his face, you raise your eyebrows at Peter.

You sit in silence for a few seconds before making to leave. “Fine, I’ll leave then.” Before you can stand up, Peter grabs your hand, gently pulling you closer to sit beside him instead of leaving. You raise an eyebrow at the boy, he doesn’t say anything but wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I love you too,” he mutters to you. “Even if I did say it first,” you turn to argue but just a big grin on his face. You shake your head, resting your head on his shoulder, smiling like an idiot.

Both of Us [Connor Murphy x Reader]

Title: Both of Us
Pairing: Connor Murphy x Reader
Fandom: Dear Evan Hansen
Requested: Yes!
Summary: Reader and Connor use each other to get back at their parents. Hijinks ensue.
Warnings: Connor’s potty mouth | Mentions of sex and alcohol | brief nudity | First person reader | not proof read | written in literally an hour | very short | recovering!Connor
A/N: decided to do a short request in the middle of writing a long one! Hope you guys like this!

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I gasped for the tenth time, watching Connor with wide eyes as he pulled more items out of the drug store plastic bag. Glaring at me with harsh slate eyes, Connor removed the last of the items, setting them up in a neat row across his quilted bedspread.

“You wanna get back at your parents or not?” He asked, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. I trusted Connor, but something about sitting cross legged on his bed with a pile of unmentionables between us made me sicker than it should’ve.

“I mean–we’re gonna be in a lot of trouble,” I grumbled. He grinned.

“Then maybe they’ll start paying you some decent attention, yeah? The both of us.”

“Connor–”

“Everyone freaks out the second there’s any chance of their daughter getting pregnant. My dad is gonna blow his top,” he sighed, grinning wickedly at the thought. Rolling my eyes, I reached out tentatively to run my finger across the box between us.

“Why condoms then?”

He shrugged. “Makes them think we’re having sex–and maybe then we can avoid the talk. And hey, I might actually need these at some point, Miss Skeptic,” he growled, sticking his tongue out, making me giggle.

“Okay, so, plan?” I asked, looking warily between him and the lineup of illegal things going on between us.

His lithe fingers reached between us, nimbly selecting a hazy brown bottle and offering it to  me.

“You’re gonna want a swig of this,” he said, popping the cap on what appeared to be beer, taking a quick sip–giving me a disgusted expression, but swallowed regardless–and handed it back to me.

“Can’t we just dump it in a plant?” I grumbled softly, eyeing the liquid inside. It was warm in my palm, already making me queasy.

“Don’t be a pussy,” he chuckled, reaching out to slap my knee, sending me jumping and the amber liquid slushed out across the back of my hand.

“Careful!” He giggled again, reaching out to grab my wrist with one hand, his cold rings stinging my flushed skin, his other hand reaching with the cuff of his hoodie to mop up the spill. Gazing with fond eyes, he gifted me a crooked smile. “Someone’s jumpy.”

“I’m nervous,” I mumbled. His smile doubled, revealing his white, crooked canine teeth, making him look simultaneously softer but confident. He hadn’t yet released my wrist, the sleeve of his hoodie still stroking across the back of my hand.

“We aren’t actually gonna do it,” he whispered, like it was a secret. Snorting, I yanked my hand away, doing my best to keep the blush from my cheeks.

“Don’t flatter yourself–I meant I’m nervous about getting trouble,” it was a half truth, but I doubt he’d call me out on it.

He shoved the bottle further against my chest, nodding toward it. “Just drink it.”

Two beers later, things were starting to get fuzzy. I’d never drank before, and I’d only meant to drink enough to make it look like we’d been drinking, but then Connor….

Connor was pacing the floor, shaking his hands nervously. He’d long since shed his hoodie, stalking the floor now in a grey tank top with his skinny jeans riding dangerous low on his hips–he was holding his liquor well, but it didn’t stop him from anxiously checking the window every few minutes.

“They’re gonna be here any minute,” he cursed under his breath, scratching at the back of his head, causing the brunette curls to fluff out violently. “What’s the plan?”

I shrugged, honestly half hoping he’d just let them catch us drinking. “You’re seriously gonna try to make it look like we’re having sex as they pull in the driveway? What’s the count of that–sixty seconds? They aren’t gonna buy it, Con.”

“You’re pessimistic when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Just pessimistic?”

“Realistic,” I argued, pulling my shirt over my head, watching Connor splutter hopelessly, eyes wide and face red as he fell against his closet door.

“What the fuck, dude!”

“People don’t have sex with their clothes on, Connor,” I reminded, laying against the blue quilt, letting my arms fall above my head. More than anything I was tired, too warm, kind of ready for another drink.

“Dude,” Connor breathed from out of my line of sight. “You’re shirtless on my bed. Holy shit. Jared is gonna lose his shit oh my God–”

“Shut up,” I growled, reaching down gingerly to make sure my bra was still in place. “And lose your’s too if you wanna make your parents actually buy this.”

“Holy shit,” Connor whispered again, his voice accompanied by the loud ruffle of clothing being thrown idly across the room.

The bed squawked beneath me, shaking slightly as Connor joined me, suddenly hovering over me on his elbows, his dark hair forming a curtain around my face, eclipsing my view of the room.

Connor was smiling brightly, his cheeks a hazy pink under his constellation of silver freckles, and his eyes squinting with the effort from the grin.

“This good?” He asked softly, adjusting so that his bony knees, still clad in his faded black skinny jeans, were boxing in my hips. I giggled, nodding slightly, feeling warmer than before.

“Better,” I agreed, despite the warning flares going off in the back of my mind. Connor was a friend, Connor was cute, I argued with myself. There was no harm in a little flirting.

“I think,” he said lowly, leaning down with heavy eyes so that his chapped lips brushed against my cheek, his curls teasing against my temple, “You’re trying to seduce me.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes. I reached up to grab his bare forearms playfully, giving them a squeeze and feeling Connor’s bare stomach twitch above my own. “Yeah? Is it working?”

I felt him smile before I saw it. “You tell me.”

Everything short circuited as Connor surged forward, sealing his lips to mine so forcefully I felt my skull slam against the mattress, his cheeks caving slightly as he moved against me, his hands coming up to cup my neck, thumbs tracing soft patterns across my cheek bones.

Kiss him back, stupid, I grunted to myself, feeling Connor’s kiss subside into something softer, slower, and my wide eyed glare revealed his focused, furrowed expression as he concentrated perhaps too hard on this kiss itself, his lips sealing lightly before pulling away too quick and returning just as fast.

“That believable enough?” He whispered softly, moving his head so that he could press a feather kiss along my jaw, allowing me to gasp for air behind his long trail of hair.

“Yeah,” I sighed, unable to stop an embarrassing giggle from bubbling out, earning an elbow to my side.

“Be nice, I’m trying here,” he grumbled, suddenly ceasing his motions and going limp above me, pressing his warm face into the crook of my neck.

“Oscar given,” I promised, a half guilty and half endeared at his embarrassment, reaching up to tangle my hands in his hair, smoothing it lightly. “You wanna take a break, try that again when your parents pull in?” I mumbled against his hair, pressing a kiss there, suddenly aware of the fact Connor’s warmth was laying between my legs, like a too-warm blanket, almost uncomfortable but worth it.

“Yeah,” he agreed drowsy, pressing a feather against my clavicle, before wrapping his arms around my waist and burrowing tighter into my neck. I sighed, relieved that we’d have a moment for my heart to settle down.

“Hey,” Connor whispered softly, nudging the inside of my thigh with his knee.

“Yeah?” I sighed, turning so that I could hear him a bit better from where his words were muffled against my neck.

“Thanks again for agreeing to do this,” he mumbled, shifting. “I know we aren’t super close or anything–”

“I like hanging out with you, Connor,” I reminded, letting my hand drop to trail a pattern against his spine, feeling him sigh in comfort against me. “We are friends, you know.”

“Still,” he said. “I appreciate you sticking your neck out for me.”

“Anytime,” I said truthfully, feeling another feather kiss against my clavicle. “Now stay vigilant, yeah? We don’t wanna miss your parents.”

—-

“This isn’t right–we should call that girl’s parents!”

“Sshhh!” Cynthia urged again, dragging another quilt over the kids in the bed, unable to stop another smile from coming to her lips. Connor and the girl were tangled together, snoring lightly, Connor’s face pressed lightly against her chest and the girls hands resting lightly across his bare back. “Let them sleep, Larry.”

“The last thing Connor needs is to be a teen father!”

Cynthia pointed to the box on the bedside table. “I don’t think we need to worry about that. Their pants are on, dear.”

Larry rolled his eyes. “And you’re okay with the beer?”

“We’ll have a talk about that,” Cynthia promised, but turned back to glance at the couple. “Look at his face, Larry, when he’s sleeping. He looks so calm. He almost looks happy.”

Larry was silent, leaning against the door and watching the two of them. “I suppose it’s good to know he’s got a friend.”

“More than a friend,” Cynthia grinned, shutting off the light and sliding the door closed. “I wonder what she likes on her pancakes.”

Engagement gift

This is for my tumblr fiancé @princess-ikol (hence the name, there is no engagement gift in this fic, pls don’t hate me) (there is a foot massage tho)


Harry lay on his back, vigorously pulling on his boots that just wouldn’t come the fuck off his feet. He groaned frustratedly as he gave them another tug, a tug that made him yelp in pain. Judging by the feeling in his foot he’d just sprained his ankle with the force of his pull.

“Harry?” There was a tentative knock on the door. “Can I safely enter the bedroom or are you indecent?”

“It’s fine.” Harry sighed, as he gave up tugging on his boots and collapsed on the bed. His only-recently-moved-in boyfriend entered the room, and Harry sat up a bit to get a better look at him. “How would walking in on me ‘being indecent’ be in anyway dangerous to you by the way?”

Draco’s head snapped up, and a dark blush spread over his face. “I don’t want to interfere with your business in the privacy of your own residence. Or outside your own residence for that matter, though I wouldn’t know why you’d do such a thing in a less than private setting.”

Harry chuckled lightly at the prudish babbling of the blond. Though Draco looked like sex on legs, his pureblood upbringing had left him extremely wary of any intimate contact, and the internalized homophobia didn’t exactly help either.

“You do realise we live together now? So tossing off would now happen in the privacy of our residence.”

Draco turned even further crimson now, and Harry suspected he’d stepped out of line a bit, though he’d learned Draco would never say such a thing. After making the mistake of laughing at the man when he first confessed to Harry he’d never kissed, Draco now omitted to mention his sexual inexperience, afraid to look foolish if he did.

“May I ask what you were you doing that was causing you to verbalize such sounds as I just heard through the door?” Harry snorted, Draco always started talking in a very posh fashion while he was nervous. He quit, however, when he saw Draco’s reaction to that, which was leaving.

“Sorry Draco, I won’t laugh- Ouch!” In his hurry to get to his feet he’d put pressure on his now confirmed sprained ankle, and with very little grace he fell back onto the bed, after which the force of his fall caused him to tumble onto the floor as well.

“Are you hurt? Did something happen at work?” Within a blink of an eye Draco’s embarrassed flush was replaced with a look of concern as he kneeled down next to Harry, who was now coughing a little since the fall had knocked some of the air out of his lungs. Draco’s strong arms pulled him into a sitting position and let him lean against the bed before he had the time to answer.

Harry captured one of his arms and used it to pull the other man close before planting a kiss on his lips. Internally he praised the blond when Draco barely blushed at that gesture, and even spontaneously sat down next to him and leaned into his bony frame.

“No love, I think I sprained my ankle while trying to get out of my boots.” Harry looked slightly nostalgic at the brown set of boots he was wearing. They were completely worn out, and he spent five minutes each morning just to patch up old holes that had sprang open again during the night. They were his though, the first thing he’d bought from money he’d made for himself, and he didn’t want to get rid of them.

“Which foot is it?” Draco asked while moving to study the boots.

“The left one, though I’m sure the right one won’t come off either. They’re a bit on the small side.” Draco carefully lifted Harry’s left foot into his lap. “You can try to get them of if you’d like. Don’t fancy sleeping with them very much.”

Draco made use of his permission and got out his wand, muttering a couple of engorgio charms as he went. His perfectly trimmed eyebrows shot up when nothing happened, and he aimed a questioning glance at Harry.

“Did you charms these?”

“Not recently.” Harry furrowed his brow as he tried to think of the last time he’d sized them up a bit when his toes started hurting. “Last time I charmed them to a bigger size was two years back or so. Why?”

Draco carefully lowered his face until his nose was nearly touching the leather. It made Harry a bit uncomfortable, after a day long walking around Fred and George’s joke shop his feet were warm and sweaty, not really something you’d want your lover to press his nose into.

“They’re stretched to the full and beyond.” He concluded after his examination. “And now the fabric is snapping back, shrinking. I’ll have to cut them open before the bloodflow to your toes gets cut off. How long ago did you buy these?”

“Just after fourth year, but Draco, can you repair them again once they’re cut? I’m quite attached to them.” Draco’s eyebrows shot up so high after that statement they nearly disappeared, and he let his eyes dart a couple times between the boots and Harry’s face.

“Since fourth year? No wonder the fabric is trying to strangle your feet, normal extension charms only last a couple months max, and it weakens the shoes.” Draco looked up to Harry again, this time with eyes filled with a strange mixture of pity and rage.

“You didn’t buy new ones because you’re not used to shopping, am I right?”

Harry looked down at his hands, guessing it was only fair to be embarrassed since he’d flustered Draco so badly before. “My aunt and uncle never took me, there was no need since I always wore hand-me-downs from Dudley. I bought these of a yard sale after I’d earned some money from Mrs Figgs for weeding her garden.”

Continue reading below the cut or on Ao3

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Originally posted by v-writings

Anon: Hey! Can i pls have one where warren and the reader pretend to hate each other and theres a lot of teasing and sarcasm. But then one day, one of them ends up confessing? 

A/N: Tysm for this request! I live for love/hate relationships omg

-

“Are we seriously playing this?”

The group gathered around in a circle in the common room of the mansion, disregarding the derisive comments made by Warren. Everyone else seemed to want to partake in the game, while the only one to share the exact same sentiment as the winged mutant was you. It took what felt like hours of Scott’s relentless begging until you finally gave in, agreeing to play the stupid game.

“Alright, Y/N.” Scott blurted, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Since you were so eager to play, why don’t you go first?”

You rolled your eyes, mentally cursing him, but you knew there was no point in resisting since you were bound to pull out someone’s name out of the red solo cup at some point that night. All eyes were on you when you reached out a hand to grab a piece of paper from the cup that was placed in the middle of your group of friends. Your face grimaced in disgust as you read the name on your paper.

“It’s Warren, isn’t it?” Peter laughed.

You nodded, groaning into the palm of your hand. ‘Great,’ you thought, ‘Just your luck.’ Everyone in the school should’ve known about your little rivalry with Warren by now. Given that you both shared countless altercations and squabbles throughout the campus, it was easy to see that you hated each other. Warren’s scowl only deepened from where he was leaning against the wall behind you.

“No. There is no way I am spending seven minutes alone with her.”

“Come on, Worthington!” Scott exclaimed. “Don’t be a pu- Ow!”

He was cut off by Jean roughly nudging him in his side. Scott rubbed his arm and cleared his throat before gesturing to the blue mutant to his right, “Kurt, if you will.”

Kurt stood up from his spot on the floor and made his way over to you and Warren, placing both his hands on either of your shoulders and teleporting the both of you to some random closet in the mansion.

“Good luck.” He whispered quietly so that only you would hear. All he could do was give you a sympathetic look before he locked the closet door and teleported away.

“Kurt, wai- Dammit. Wagner, get back in here right now!” You yelled, banging on the closet door. “When I get out of here, you guys are all dead!”

“Cute.” Warren muttered sarcastically a few feet behind you. “We both know they’re not coming back anytime soon. Just shut up, and let’s get this over with.”

“Fine.” You shot him a glare but complied anyway.

You leaned against the wall opposite of Warren, crossing your arms and refusing to look at him. The closet was small and dark, but there was enough light coming from outside for the two of you to see each other. If anything, the silence only made it more awkward. It was weird, but things were so much easier when the two of you were arguing. One always had something to say to the other. Although you would never admit it, you actually enjoyed his hot-headed and arrogant antics. He had quick wit, and he was always able to counter your sardonic remarks. You felt him sigh and adjust his wings into a more comfortable position. Only a minute passed before you decided you couldn’t bare the silence anymore.

“Out of all the people, it just had to be you, didn’t it?” You shot, hoping to strike up a not-so-pleasant conversation.

“Believe me.” He scoffed. “I don’t wanna be here any more than you do.”

“You know, it’s funny.” You say, turning to face him. “I’m playing seven minutes in heaven with an actual angel, but he’s making it feel like hell.”

He shot you a glare, then slowly started inching towards you, like a predator approaching its prey. You stayed completely still, eyebrow raised in curiosity. He was dangerously close to you now, your faces inches apart, breaths mingling. With your bodies as close as they were, hardly any distance left between them, you felt your heart beat wildly against your chest. He placed his hands against the wall on either side of you and brought his lips to your ear.

“Is that a challenge?” He whispered, his lips so close you could feel him smirk.

What happened next was all too sudden. Deciding he couldn’t hold back anymore, Warren roughly pressed his lips to yours, catching you off guard. It took you a moment to process what was happening, but when you finally did, you reacted quickly. You kissed back fiercely, tangling your fingers in the strands of his hair, tugging gently at the nape of his neck. You tilted your face to better mold to his as he brought himself closer. His hands dropped to your waist, gripping them tightly. Oh, this definitely felt like heaven. Your eyes remained closed when he parted his lips from yours, trying to catch his breath.

“Wow.” He gasped out. “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

It was getting harder and harder for him every day, trying to fight the arousal of these feelings. But in that moment, he realized there was no use in denying it any longer. And so did you.

“I would say the feeling’s mutual,” You looked up at him, a teasing look in your eye. “But the only reason I joined this game was because I had a chance of kissing Kurt.”

He rolled his eyes before pulling you into him again. This time, he boldly grazed his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You obliged, parting your lips slightly for him. You tugged on his hair even more roughly, his groan audible even when his lips were occupied against your mouth. He started trailing sloppy, wet kisses along your jaw, working his way down your neck.

Before the heavy makeout session could escalate any further, you were interrupted by Jean’s loud voice coming from another room.

“Aha! I called it! Pay up, Scott!”

Thanks to @harrys-furrowed-brow for the banner

The Beginning…

The Middle…

The End…


Christmas break was upon us.  It seemed to happen much quicker than in previous years.  My mother had been texting me to let me know my flight details for my trip home, but I pretty much ignored it.  I didn’t want to go home.  I had good reason to not want to go home.  I had fallen in love and it was more real to me than anything waiting for me back home.  I kept trying to find the perfect time to tell him.  But I never could.  I chickened out every time I got close to the words.

Over the last month I had virtually stopped living with Gemma and started living with Harry.  We spent more time at his house now than we did mine.  I didn’t have that much when I landed in London so it took me about six trips before I had all my stuff in his bedroom.  

Gemma didn’t seem to mind.  She and Mike were almost engaged now so he stayed over there a lot more often anyway.  And we still went to dinner once a week to catch up.  Which was where I was headed now.

I made my way down the busy London street, smiling as I perused all of the Christmas decorations.  Christmas in Illinois was great, but there was a certain comfort of being in London at Christmas.  I felt like I was home.  The twinkling lights and faint hint of a Christmas carol being played somewhere around the city was so comforting I couldn’t fathom not actually spending Christmas here.

But I pushed that thought out of my mind as I walked into the restaurant.  Gemma was already there, waving her hand frantically when she saw me walk in.  She stood up to kiss my cheek once I made it to the table, shaking her head as she saw me peel myself out of about three layers of clothing,

“It’s not that cold.”  She commented.

“I walked here.”

“My stingy brother couldn’t at least get you an Uber?”

Keep reading

Under One Condition: Chapter Three

Originally posted by 9taefox

Originally posted by mvssmedia

Hey, so, this is the latest chapter. Sorry it took so long to upload, I’ve been so unbelievably busy. I hope you enjoy the read. 

Thank you for the continuing support.

Remember, feel free to ask questions or make requests for one shots, shorts, what ever you fancy. Asks are always open :)

Jimin x reader x Taehyung

Warnings: swearing, mature content, kinks, smut, teasing

Word Count: 4,307

Chapter Links: 

Chapter one          Chapter two         Chapter three           Chapter Four     Chapter Five (In progress)

———————————————————————

Jimin quickly flung himself out of bed and stumbled to get his trousers on, that were still crumpled at the foot of the bed where you left them last night. You pulled the covers over you and harshly whispered at Jimin.

“It is. It is… it is Tae, what the hell am I supposed to do!? Stroll out there and talk to him!? GOD NO!”

Keep reading

Three years ago I was dealing with a bout of depression. It was not unusual, I’ve had depression and anxiety for almost as long as I can remember. But this bout followed my thirtieth birthday. I was not upset about turning thirty. I did not think my life was over or that my youth was behind me. Rather, I was in the middle of an amazing year full of the freedom that came with stepping away from religious oppression, finding my own faith and defining what that meant to me, and coming off of a year of painful fertility drugs and the decision not to continue treatment. I’d honestly never felt better.

And yet … depression.

I got that apathetic kind of depression where nothing seems fun or exciting or even remotely attention grabbing enough to pull me out of bed. I was just … stuck. I was missing something. 

As I do when I’m in a depression, I binged watched things. On a random Saturday, I stumbled upon Deathly Hallows Part One playing on ABC Family, likely during one of their marathons. 

“God I forgot how much I fucking love these movies.”

I’d seen almost every one in theatre. He-Man had read the books religiously (and even worked at a book store during the release of the first few). I knew the general plot because he is utterly incapable of NOT sharing things with me when he’s reading. So when the movies came out, of course we went. He fumed and fumed in his seat over missing characters and twisted plotlines, and I laughed and laughed until some random kid behind me loudly whispered to his friend “That’s the one that dies at the end” when Cedric Diggory first appeared on screen. (Seriously. WTF, you little brat?)

Rather than read the books, I’d spent time playing on Pottermore and the wiki pages learning ingredients to potions and the etymology behind the spells. I loved the world that JKR created, but I suck when it comes to reading fiction. My attention span (especially in my twenties) was garbage. 

So in the last week of June 2014, I borrowed my mother-in-law’s DVDs of the movies and binged them all. I laughed, I cried, I FELT something for the first time in weeks. Emotions. Feeling. Life. Magic. 

“I want to read the books now. I need to read the books.”

So I read them. I read several chapters every night out loud while my husband played video games. I laughed when he cried. He laughed when I cried. I did voices, and we argued over exactly how pompous Lockhart should sound. I gasped during parts that were not in the movies. “Why is Molly being such a bitch to Sirius?” “Wait, who are all these other elves?” “Dumbledore’s a shit. I’m glad he’s dead!” “OMG Tonks. OMG Fred. OMG Remus. OMG I hate this so much.”

And I loved it.

I loved it so much. 

I felt like an addict waiting for my husband to get home each night so I could keep reading. I begged him, “Just two more chapters. I’m almost done with this book!” even as I LITERALLY lost my voice in the middle of Deathly Hallows. 

Then, like magic, I remembered that the story didn’t have to end. I’d been RPing written stories with friends for two decades, and I’d stumbled into fanfiction from time to time. So I knew what sites to go to.

I read epilogue continuations first. I wanted to know what happened after. Then I thought, “I wonder what if …?” And I fell head first into the deep end of Dramione, Marauders, and a crap ton of Marriage Law and Time-Turner fics.

“I have an idea. I want to be apart of this. I think I have a story in me.”

And three years later, I have a life. A hobby. A PASSION. I’ve made amazing friends, rebuilt a really fucked up self esteem and sense of pride, learned a lot about grammar and story structure, and helped to add building blocks to a fandom that saved me. 

I can’t believe it’s been three years.

Thank you all, for some of the best three years of my life.

♥♥♥ Shaya ♥♥♥

Sunshine

Originally posted by myloveseokjin

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Words: ~2k

Request: Can you do a jhope soulmate au the one where you have the first thing your soulmate says written on your wrist. Can it be something in all caps (implying that he was screaming it because let’s be real this boy screams a lot) (maybe funny too but I don’t care lol) just a bunch of fluff. Thanks 💛


The words first start to appear overnight, around the time of one’s sixteenth birthday. You’d wake up and find a couple new minuscule specks dotting your wrist. Over the next two years, new dots would appear and disappear, some forming darker than others, until, by the age of eighteen, what your soulmate first says to you, after having made the connection, has been finalized and written upon your wrist in small, cursive letters.

With most, there was only a word or two. Some variable of “wow”, “amazing”, or “perfect” were printed on their skin. Growing up, it was always fascinating to see your friends words develop on their wrist. You’d wonder aloud to each other about what you thought the letters would form and stay up late gushing over your sappy fantasies. It wasn’t uncommon for outgoing strangers to strike up a conversation with each other and enthuse about the marks that had formed on their wrist in the signature small, cursive print.

However, you shied away from flaunting the words that had formed on your wrist. The only people who had seen were your friends and family. If a stranger were to start a conversation with you, you would avoid showing them your wrist and often wore long sleeved shirts out. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were a bit embarrassed by your marking. You had always anticipated the average one-worded affection printed on your wrist, but you had gotten something much more unusual.

You put your book down and lifted the end of your sleeve to reveal your quote, bold and capitalized against your skin. You traced a finger over the letters, and couldn’t help the fond smile that rose as you chuckled softly.
“AM I SCREAMING AGAIN?”. You traced over each letter of the comical phrase, before letting your sleeve drop as your roommate, Jihee, walked into your shared bedroom with a bag from a small doughnut shop near your apartment.

“Hey, Y/N, I got two glazed. They were on sale, two for one dollar. Here.” She said in a rush, handing you a doughnut half-wrapped in a napkin. You took it and thanked her as she pulled out her own and sat on her bed, pulling her laptop out of her bag and into her lap, turning it on as she took a bite of the treat.

“Did you seriously get loaded with work over the weekend again?” You asked, scoffing in disbelief when she gave you a quick nod. “This is the third time in a row, Jihee. I can’t believe they’re overworking you like that.” You took a bite of the doughnut she had given you, giving her an incredulous look.

“It’s fine.” She spoke shortly, focusing on the - what was probably near a dozen - of important company files she had to go through for an upcoming meeting, “it’s important.”

“Here,” you sighed, “I’ll go grocery shopping for you. I know you usually do it, but I can tell your swamped. I’ll make a list and go out later, yeah?” You offered, taking another bite out of your doughnut. She glanced up at you and hesitated, before nodding softly and giving you a thankful look before she focused back on her work, her eyes furrowing slightly in concentration as she scrolled through what you could only assume to be a daunting file.

You smiled to yourself and put the book you were reading away, quickly finishing the doughnut and picking up a notepad and a pencil. You took the next half hour wandering around the apartment, scribbling down the things you and your roommate needed.

You checked the list over with her, adding on a few things at her request before setting out. You headed to the nearest supermarket and got yourself a cart, weaving through the aisles and picking out what you needed. You added some ice cream and a couple snacks on the way, and before long you had just about everything you needed.

Except one, the last item on your list, which was what you assumed was studio equipment. Your roommate had written it down herself, but she only wrote down the model and brand in her haste to return to her work. Despite that, she seemed like she really wanted the item, and you were determined to get it for her.

You glanced at the scrawl of your roommate’s handwriting and half-heartedly searched the shelves in front of you again. You huffed softly in annoyance when you didn’t find anything matching both the model and brand she wrote down, crossing your arms and searching up the item to try to find it easier.

After a fruitless look through the shelves once again, you grumbled in irritation, deciding to check the other aisle you thought it could be in. You were pretty sure it wouldn’t be there, but the store sometimes put items in aisles they were only loosely related to. Your cart was already heavy as you pushed it into the aisle, scanning the shelves tiredly.

You felt like you deflated in defeat when you searched the shelves for the third time and didn’t see anything like the item on the list. You were about to give up and go home when you heard it. Excited little squeals, and was that a scream?

“I can’t believe it! Do you see this, Namjoon?” You heard someone screech, high-pitched, excited, and either oblivious or uncaring as to the disturbance they were making in the middle of a half-crowded store. You felt panic rise in you and quickly lifted your sleeve to see your mark considerably darker and more prominent than it was when you last checked it. You could even see ink rising on your skin, a small heart starting to form neatly under the quote.

You felt overwhelmed. You glanced over the shelves and exhaled heavily when you finally found what you had been looking for, tucked behind a handful of mugs, easing it out and placing it in the cart as gently as you could in a panic before you turned it around and heaving into it, eager to get out of the store.

“Hey, wait!” Someone called, sounding much like the voice that had been screaming in excitement earlier, and you froze, shoulders hunching. You were absolutely certain it was him. After a rushed internal pep talk, you took a deep breath to stabilize yourself and turned around, keeping your gaze to the floor, eyes darting between the two tiles at your feet.

You weren’t quite sure why you were practically buzzing with anxiety. Your soulmate, your other half, was someone who was supposed to complete you. To be fair, it all seemed rather overwhelming to handle when you had just come to perform the kind act of shopping while your roommate was flooded with work.

“Oh my god,” you heard the man squeal, “look at me!” He urged you, but didn’t sound annoyed or demanding, more excited and eager. You hesitantly let your gaze rise, almost immediately locking eyes with who you could only assume was your soulmate, his smile so bright and warm it could rival the sun.

You felt the connection form once you locked eyes. He took your breath away. You felt your chest heave as you gripped your cart for stability, drinking in his - frankly, ethereal - appearance, although you didn’t have much time to. His smile was wide and bright as he darted to you and picked you up, twirling you around with a loud squeal before setting you down and leaning close to you, noses almost touching. His eyes darted between yours as you stood, still frozen, your own eyes wide in surprise, staring back into his twinkling ones.

“Hey, Hoseok, turn it down a notch. You’re being loud.” You looked over your soulmate, Hoseok’s, shoulder, to see another man. Tall, with a round face and deep, wise eyes that seemed to be flooded with knowledge.

“Am I screaming again?!” Hoseok screamed, giggling to himself when he realized he had just answered his own question. Just as your marking had predicted, his first words to you after having made the connection had been said - actually, screamed. You and Namjoon both nodded, and Hoseok glanced between you two before gasping and looking at you again, grabbing your wrist and pulling up the sleeve.

“Is that-” he started, but when he saw the words on your skin he erupted in laughter. It rang loud and clear, and you couldn’t help but relax a bit and giggle alongside him. “I’m sorry, God, I can’t believe that’s what I first said to you.”

You smiled and patted his shoulder in reassurance, “you’re quite loud, but it’s fine.”

He nodded, before breaking out into laughter again and lifting his wrist to show that the first half of what you had just said was printed on his wrist, a small, filled in heart under it. You glanced at your own wrist and saw the heart that had just begun forming was filled in as well, signifying that you had officially connected with your soulmate. You turned back to him and broke out into a nervous giggle.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry-” you started, flustered, before he cut you off with a bright smile.

“No, it’s fine! I can’t believe I found you!” He wasn’t screaming anymore, having calmed himself down, and pulled you in for a tight hug.

You hesitantly hugged him back, his embrace feeling warm and secure. You couldn’t help but to close your eyes at the feeling and sigh against him, relaxing.

He insisted, with a pout, on staying with you for the rest of the day, and you only agreed once his friend said it was fine and waved you two off. Hoseok went back to the apartment with you and helped bring in and put away the items from your shopping trip. Your roommate brightened when you told her you had found your soulmate and put her work aside for a while in favor of listening to the story, laughter and giggles flowing between the three of you.

By the time your conversation, which had wandered from how you met and lasted a solid handful of hours, died down and Jihee had gone back to work, it was late in the evening and Hoseok was adamant about staying with you. He had whined and pouted, claiming he didn’t want to leave his beautiful, gorgeous, kind, amazing soulmate until you agreed to let him spend the night, which resulted in him visibly brightening and hugging you until you eased him off you to order takeout.

When you two were settled on your bed, having both eaten your fair share of pizza, which was followed by watching a movie together with Jihee still typing away in the background, he pulled you closer to cuddle you.

“I’m really, really glad I found you.” He mumbled into your hair after a while of laying together, planting a kiss on top of your head. You already felt tired from how warm and secure you felt in his hold, and hummed, leaning up to place a tired kiss onto his jaw. Your own actions startled you a bit, you barely knew him but it all felt so normal and natural, as if you had been doing this for years already. You saw him smile brightly in the dark as he pulled you closer until you were flush against him and your legs were tangled together. He nuzzled the top of your hair affectionately while your breathing gradually evened out, unconsciousness approaching you quickly due to his embrace.

“Goodnight, sunshine.”


I hope you liked it, anonie ♡ —Admin Noodle