“Honestly, Ginny, it’s not you-” Harry stopped in the middle of his explanation, realizing how stupid he would’ve sounded saying ‘it’s not you, it’s me’. Ginny narrowed her eyes at him, and Harry rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. He had known that breaking things off with Ginny would be awkward, but this was simply unbearable.
“Then what is it, Harry?” Ginny asked imploringly.
“It’s… I don’t really know how to explain,” Harry said truthfully. How was he supposed to explain that his once intense, romantic love for her had turned into a familial, brotherly love for seemingly no reason. The past few months had just been different. Instead of spending his free time with Ginny like he used to, Harry would now much rather spend that time in his dorm room, or flying, or hell, even studying.
“Is there someone else?” Ginny said calmly. She wasn’t upset; she knew Harry would break up with her from the moment she saw the rooming assignments.
“I- yes,” Harry said decidedly, even though it was a lie. Maybe it would be easier to pretend there was someone else. At least that way Ginny would get a reason. “I’m in love with someone else.”
“Draco Malfoy,” Harry answered automatically, and then bit his tongue. Draco Malfoy? Where had that come from? He wasn’t in love with Draco! It’s true that they had moved on from being enemies since they were assigned to be roommates at the beginning of the year, Harry would even say they were friends, but love? There was no way. Or was there? After all, Harry found comfort in his late night talks with Draco when neither of them could sleep, and he invited Draco to go flying with him nearly everyday, and he relished those evenings he and Draco spent holed up in the library, studying and researching ways to remove tattoos made of Dark Magic. So maybe Harry did love Draco, just a little bit. But that didn’t mean anything, because there was no evidence that Draco felt the same.
“I thought so,” Ginny replied, her voice cutting off Harry’s thoughts.
Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”
Ginny shrugged. “You two are always together, and when you’re not, you’re talking about being with the other.”
“Sorry, you mean, both of us? You think Draco loves me back?” Harry couldn’t disguise the hope in his voice.
Ginny sighed. “It’s quite obvious.” Harry didn’t respond, just stared in stunned silence, so Ginny went on, “Did you know that Draco, Pansy, and Blaise have been taking lessons from Hermione and I on how to cast a Patronus? Yesterday, Draco was finally able to cast one. And his Patronus, Harry- it’s a stag.”
MZS: You’re the first actor I’ve met who finds his character by making sketches.
TH: One has to have a silhouette, you know? Say I’m playing Elton John. You know what he looks like. Playing Al Capone. You know what he looks like. But what about characters we’re making up from scratch, who you don’t know what they look like? You have to create a memorable silhouette for them, too. When I was at school I was told, “Tom, when you play the prince or the king, I want to fucking see a king walk onstage before you even open your mouth. What does that look like?” Do you do it literally, with a costume, or through physicality? How do you immediately see the king? Crown? Robes? I have to find an identifier, a silhouette which immediately radiates something for me. Remember, you won’t necessarily know by their clothes that they’re the king. You can walk on in a disheveled homeless man’s outfit, but there’s something about them that radiates a nobility, something that makes you go, “This person’s a king.”
You hesitated to open the door. You didn’t even know if Taehyung was going to be there, but something told you that he was. You look through the little peephole as if you didn’t know who was at the door. Your heart sank when you could see all seven figures there. You smiled a little though as Hoseok leaned in close to the little hole and tried to peek back.
You opened the door slowly and greeted the boys, letting them into your apartment.
The next couple of hours went by as they usually would have. Some of the boys raided your fridge, but to their dismay, it was rather empty. Taehyung didn’t bother even looking at you or talking to you, so you wondered why he even bothered to come. He eventually excused himself to get some air on your balcony. You felt a rush of cold air rush into your otherwise warm apartment as he slid the door open. You watched his figure walk out and promptly close the door behind him.
You finally felt a little at ease, but you still didn’t know how to confront him or when. The other guys noticed the strange look on your face.
“This actually worked out well. Less work on our part” Yoongi said out of the blue.
“What?” you ask, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.
“We actually wanted you and Tae to talk things out but we didn’t really know how to get you two alone. But this works out” Namjoon said.
“Alone? What are you talking about” you asked again.
“Yeah…we’re going to go ahead and go. You two talk and figure this out” Jin said as he and the rest of the boys got up.
“You can do it Y/N!” Jungkook said as he patted your shoulder as he and the rest of the boys walked past you. You stood there in shock. You were finally, quite literally, forced to confront Taehyung.
You finally noticed Jimin standing in front of you, not realizing that he didn’t walk out with the rest of the group.
“You can do this Y/N. We’ll always be here for you, ok? Let me know how it goes” he says with a sad smile. You couldn’t help but smile back, but you could still feel your heart race.
A few moments after the six of them were gone, you awkwardly fidgeted around your living room, constantly checking to see if Taehyung showed any signs of coming back in. After a few more minutes, you had your back faced to the balcony, checking your phone after you received a few messages from Min Joo.
You heard the balcony door open and the cold air once again and you after what felt like a few hours, you turned around. Taehyung looked around the room and he seemed very confused.
“Where are they?” he asked finally. You realized you hadn’t heard his voice in almost two months and you realized just now how much you missed it.
“They uh, just left.” you said, trying to sound calm while it felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest at any moment. You hated confrontation with a passion.
“Why? You know what, nevermind. I’ll leave too” he said, starting to walk towards the front door behind you.
“Wait! Tae!” you said hurriedly.
Tae. You let the name slip. He probably didn’t like you calling him that. Not anymore at least. But little did you know that it made his heart skip a beat too. He missed your voice just as much as you missed his.
“What?” he asked dryly. He was afraid of showing any emotion because he was scared of forgiving you in a heartbeat.
“C-can we talk?” you ask, not daring to look into his eyes.
“About?” he asks bac.
“A-about us? I-I just want to know what really happened between us” you asked. You were trying so hard not to let the tears form but the stinging in your eyes told you that you didn’t have much longer till you broke.
“I think I already told you how I felt.” he said coldly.
“Taehyung what the hell did I do to you?” you say, wanting to finally get it all out.
He groaned in response.
“Fine, you want to talk? Let’s talk Y/N” he said quite loudly. You flinched in response. “Why are you pretending to be so innocent? I know what you fucking did” he spat out.
“What are you talking about?” you asked, begging him to spill.
“Are you really going to pretend like you don’t know what you did Y/N?” he said, getting louder with almost every word. You could feel the tears start to form in your eyes, blurring your vision.
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” you say back.
“The reporter? The article he wrote? The payment? Any of the fucking ring a bell?” he says.
“what? what reporter? what article?” you ask, genuinely confused.
“YOU TALKED TO A REPORTER. YOU TOLD HIM ABOUT ALL THE SECRETS I SHARED WITH YOU. AND YOU EVEN TOOK MONEY AS SOME PAYMENT. DID YOU HONESTLY THINK I WOULDNT FIND OUT?” he was yelling now. If you weren’t scared before, you were now. You had never seen him so angry. He took a glass from the kitchen counter and threw it on the ground. The glass shattered immediately, almost as quickly as your heart.
“Taehyung I never talked to any reporter, let alone take any money.” you say through the tears.
“Oh just shut it. I know the truth, so stop denying it. How…how could you take advantage of our friendship like that? Take advantage of the rest of the members like that?” he asks with a sadness clearly evident in his eyes.
You were full out crying now, with your heart breaking more and more with every word he said.
“Taehyung..I-I d-didn’t.” you said, starting to sob.
“SHUT IT. You..you’re disgusting” he says, heaving.
“You…You really believe that? You think..you think that lowly of me?” you ask slowly, still looking at the ground. “You really think I did something that terrible?”
“I wouldn’t put it beyond you.” he said coldly.
“And nothing I say would make you believe me?” you ask finally.
“What excuse could you possibly give. I would never believe you. You’re no better than the rest of them. Just wait until I tell the rest of guys. I never want to see you again” he spat out.
“I-I guess that’s it then.” you said
Taehyung took one final glance at you. He didn’t know why his heart sank seeing you cry the way you did. The way you looked completely broken. “she deserves it, though” he tells himself as he walks out the door.
A/N: omg finally the confrontation. I think I might go back to texts for the next part if it fits with the plot but I’m not sure yet. Want a part 8? Let me know or I won’t write one ha!
Thanks for all the support so far! It’s been fun writing this series.
When we moved to Pine Drive, I never expected to find a
conspiracy among the kids there.
I was an only child and a loner, thanks to my parents always
moving. My dad’s job had him hopping from state to state. It was a pretty tough
going if you wanted to make friends. But he promised that we’d stay at least
six months here, so I had a chance to make at least one friend.
And whadya know, on my block, there were a ton of kids to make friends with.
I didn’t even really have to try. Two days after moving in,
the Langley twins Diana and David were pounding on my door, asking who owned
that bike parked in the front yard and if they wanted to play. I was shy but
the twins were ecstatic to meet me.
Apparently their group had an odd number before I moved in
and they needed equal teams to play their games with.
There was Alicia, who was six, she was the baby but she was
very sweet. The oldest was Fletcher who was thirteen but his social skills were
a bit behind so he didn’t mind hanging out with a bunch of nine and ten year
olds. I think there was about ten of us all in all.
But I learned soon enough that there was a secret each of
A/N: I’m so
excited to share my first reggie imagine with you guys! hope you enjoy! (also remember to message me if you want to be added to the tag list!)
“Jesus, Reggie,” you muttered as you
opened your door to find a battered and bruised Reggie. "What happened?“
"Can I come in?” he begged, avoiding
your question. He was cradling his left
wrist, and blood was dripping from his lip and nose. You pursed your lips but opened your door
“Yeah, of course,” you responded,
lightly placing your hand on his shoulder. You began to guide him towards your bathroom. "We have to be quiet though,“ you
told him, "because my parents are asleep upstairs.” Reggie silently nodded. You opened the door to the bathroom and
immediately shuffled through the drawers, trying to find some gauze and
disinfectant. After a couple of minutes
of searching, you found all of the supplies you needed. You gestured for Reggie to sit down on the
closed toilet. Pouring some rubbing
alcohol on a cotton ball, you sent a sympathetic smile towards the beaten boy.
“This may hurt,” you warned him right
before you placed the cotton again the cuts on his face. He winced as it made contact with the wound,
but he bit his lip to prevent himself from making any noise. The two of you sat in silence for ten
minutes, Reggie silently watching you as you cleaned his wounds. As you finished wrapping gauze around his
wrist, he spoke up.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. You looked up with a puzzled expression. "I shouldn’t be troubling you with this.“
"Reggie, if you’re hurt I want you to come
here,” you comforted him. "You’re
not bothering me.“
"I just… this was my fault, and I
shouldn’t have dragged you into anything.”
“Your fault?” you questioned, leaning
back a bit. "How is it your fault?“
"I got into a fight,” he confessed. He avoided eye contact with you.
“Jesus, Reggie,” you groaned. You stood up and began to put away the medical
supplies. "Why would you get
yourself into that?“
"Because I had to,” Reggie replied. "They were saying shit that they
"Oh like what?” you snapped. "You don’t deserve captain of the
football team? That you don’t get as
much action as some of the others? Honestly,
Reggie, if you’re gonna let that shit get under your skin so easily, then don’t
bother coming over here afterwards. I’m not here to heal your ego.“ Reggie, stunned into silence, didn’t respond
to you. He sighed and stood up,
signaling that he was ready to leave. You
exhaled sharply as you lead him to your door. When you arrived, you opened it and held it,
watching as Reggie exited your house. Before
he stepped off your porch, he turned around to face you.
"They were talking about you,” he
explained. "They were talking about
how you have a big ass and that they would totally bang you, and then they
started talking about how many points you would be worth in the book.“ Your eyes widened, and you said nothing. Reggie continued, "I snapped in less than
five minutes. I couldn’t take hearing
people talk about you that way.” Your
face softened as you stepped onto your porch, inching closer to Reggie.
“Oh, Reggie,” you sighed, placing a
hand on his bruised face. Gently, you
swiped your thumb across the cut on his lip. He inhaled deeply and grabbed both of your
“(Y/N),” he whispered. Your heart rate increased as Reggie’s face
inched closer to yours.
“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”
you asked, trying to make your voice sound steady. "If I had known-“
"I didn’t want you to know,” he
muttered. "I guess… I guess I was
trying to protect you.“ You began
to withdraw your hand from his face, but Reggie’s arm snapped up and placed
your hand back against his cheek. Before
you could reply, he crashed his lips against yours. Kissing back, you raised your other hand and
cupped the other side of his face. The
two of you pulled apart, and you rested your forehead against Reggie’s. Neither of you said anything, but smiles
graced both of your faces.
"I should get home,” Reggie mumbled
after a minute. You nodded, taking a
step back. He held onto your hand.
“Yeah, I should probably go inside,”
you said. He nodded and slowly released
your hand. You took a few steps backwards
towards your door, refusing to remove your gaze from Reggie.
“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he waved, and began
his trek home. You smiled wistfully and
waved, even though you knew he couldn’t see you.
“Goodnight, Reggie,” you muttered, a
smile etched onto your face. You
dreamily sighed as you softly shut your door, fingers hovering over where
Reggie’s lips were just moments ago.
Request: I saw you wanted some angsty tom holland spider man requests >:3 you should write something where the reader gets kidnapped by someone who found out she is dating Peter, and they try to get her to reveal his location and secrets about him but she refuses to and they torture her. You can make an extra angsty ending or a fluffy one! Love you!
Requested by: anonymous.
A/N: Ooooh! Thank you for the request, love. I love you too ;)
Pairing: Peter x Reader
Warnings: angst. torturing of the sort, a bit of sexual implications but not much.
“We know you’re dating him. There’s no point trying to fake it.” You felt your breath stuck in your throat as your eyes warily watch the knife tracing your arm. You fought your wrist restraints, trying to break free but it was helpless. Whoever had kidnapped you had used tough rope and wound it around your wrists tightly. It didn’t help that they’d strung your wrists so high that you could barely stand on your own feet. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spat at the man before you, holding your head out before you defiantly. “And even if I did, there’s no way i’d tell you.” You watched with terror as the man before you tightened his grip on the knife, pressing it lightly into your arm. You bit your lip, not giving him the satisfaction of hearing you cry out.
You’d expected him to continue, continue cutting until he finally managed to hear you cry. But instead the man stopped, pausing in his efforts. You watched him step closer to you, so that his face was only a mere inches from your own. You held your breath, backing your head as far as you could against the wall. You hated being the damsel in distress and you hated it more that you were being used for information, but there was no way in hell you give Peter up so you wouldn’t be hurt. Speaking of, it’d be really nice if he showed up around now…
“You know…” The man started, tilting the long knife threateningly in front of your face. “I’ve been watching you, well you and Spider-Man. I see the way he cares for you, which is exactly why I went after you. Even if you don’t tell me anything, he’ll fall for my trap to come save you and i’ll have him right where I want him.” You bit your lip, kicking out your lip in frustration knowing that the man in front of you was exactly right. Peter would come save you and there was nothing you could do to warn him that it’d only be a trap. “I’ll enjoy killing him in front of you.”
“He’s stronger than you think.” You argued, shaking your head at his threats. The man only chuckled at your defiance, biting his lip in thought as he stared at you. You watched him warily, unsure of what he’d do before he shocked you, reaching his arms out and grabbing ahold of your top. You immediately knew of what he’d do and you opened your mouth to plead but was a second late as you heard the sound of fabric rip.
You flushed in embarrassment as your bare stomach and bra came into view. You tried to press your elbows together, a feeble attempt at covering yourself.
“You’re very beautiful. I can see why Peter likes you.” The man commented, allowing his eyes to roam your shape. For a moment you feared of what he’d do, something that would be way worse the slicing your skin. But you allowed yourself to breath again when he grabbed the knife again, shaking his head; “i’m not gonna hurt you. Not in that way at least.” He confirmed, and despite the impending doom you knew faced you, you felt relief at the fact that he wasn’t going to touch you like that.
“Fuck you.” You spat, eyes crinkling in disgust.
“Feisty.” The man stepped towards you and you sucked in a deep breath, leaning up on your wrists and pressing your back against the wall. It did nothing to stop the man as he effortlessly stepped forward, making sure you were looking at him as he pressed the knife against your bare stomach, sliding it down your stomach. You could feel the blood drip down your stomach as pain shot through you.
You clenched your hands together, pressing your lips together in last hopes of keeping whatever yell of pain you’d have in. It only seemed to please the psychopath more, to see you struggle not to cry out. He laughed cruelly, a smirk on his lips as he placed his knife at your hip, pressing into it. There was nothing you could do as a scream burst through your lips, your ankles wobbling as you slumped, falling against the man. He did nothing but pushed you back up, “that’s it. Scream.”
He sliced down your arm again, across your stomach, by your ribs. And all throughout you screamed in pain. No matter how much you pleaded he only continued, repeating the same question; “where is he?” Still you refused to answer, bit your tongue, and suffered through the pain.
It wasn’t until this had been going on far too long did the man show signs of frustration. He screamed in your face, calling you every name in the book as he slammed every bit of anger at you. “Damnit! Where is here?!”
“Right here.” You snapped your head to our left, finding Peter Parker in his Spider-Man suit standing above some rumble. Your heart fell at the sight of him, shaking your head in a desperate plea to go. You watched as your capturer turned towards you with a sick smile; “told you.” And then he was gone from your side, running towards Spider-Man who almost immediately fell into battle.
You tried your best to fight your restraints, your voice coming in a raw scream if Peter was knocked to the ground. He’d only nod your way, sending a reassuring smile as jump back into action. You watch him be beat on, fall and be thrown to the ground. But you watched him get back up from the ground, with renowned strength. You watched as the man finally fell to the ground and Peter delivered one final blow, knowing him out.
He ripped his mask off his face, immediately running to your side. Peter said nothing as he scrambled to untie your restraints, you falling onto him almost immediately. He repeated your name in alarm, repeating you’d be okay and you didn’t know if it was for you or for himself. It didn’t matter, all that mattered is that you told him the truth. “I didn’t tell him anything.” You whispered, and he set you on the ground, brushing stray hair from your face.
“I know. I know.” Peter nodded down at you. “Oh, god. Y/N, this is all my fault. I’m so sorry.”
“No.” You repeated sternly, finding whatever last strength you could. “No it’s not. I knew what I was signing up for.”
“But nothing, Peter. I love you, and that will not change.” He shook his head at your stubbornness, smiling lightly down at you. “Thank you for saving me.”
In which Andrew didn’t choose Exy but still chose Neil, which meant Neil had to learn how to talk about something other than stick-ball.
warning, mention of implied sexual assault/non-con
Lucy had not anticipated what she was dealt.
Her first day of second year brought a tone of finality to it all: it wasn’t just a year-long dream of terrible decisions and alcohol and chaos. It continued on, and so would she.
Her first day also happened to bring Professor Andrew Minyard, five feet and blond and utterly terrifying.
Introducing the course had started off mundane enough, until Eddie Court – an asshole she’d regretted sleeping with dearly – decided to lean over her shoulder. He never got the chance to say anything because a pencil dotted him squarely in his forehead, so hard that a tiny droplet of blood threatened to bead.
Everyone stared. Shocked, confused, but remaining in complete silence as they – Lucy included – tried to remember if anyone had mentioned anything about the man, whether or not this was normal or out-of-the-ordinary behaviour.
“Name.” He sounded bored.
Eddie rose his fingers to brush his forehead, smearing the tiniest of droplets. He stared at his fingertips, then at Minyard, then at the pencil that had clattered on his desk. Then at Minyard again. “Eddie Court.”
“Court. Christ.” The professor said, with a palpable distaste to his tone. “I will say this once, despite having to repeat it every year, because students seem to get thicker with every new class.” His face was blank. Stone. Lucy had never heard someone utter insults with such apathy. She didn’t know whether or not to be scared or curious: Such a mask was difficult to maintain. “Shut the fuck up, or get the fuck out. Understood?”
Swearing in class. At the students. Completely against protocol.
Lucy couldn’t help but smile. Just a little.
Within weeks, the class had learned how to abide by Professor Minyard’s rules. His previous students were sought out, but they merely grinned at the mention of his name. One student dared to ask another law professor, questioning the teaching methods of the criminology expert. They shook their head, leaning to the professor next to them and sharing a laugh, an inside joke that none of the second years were a part of.
Curiosity won out over fear eventually, and what that said about Lucy, she wasn’t sure. Eventually, he won her respect: The piece of white chalk he’d flung had imbedded itself in her tightly curled hair when she’d fallen asleep at the eight AM lecture on a Tuesday morning.
“You think I want to be here, Rone?”
That piece of chalk rested on her bedside table. Lucy didn’t want to be weird, especially considering her professor hadn’t played Exy since college, but he’d played with Neil Josten and Kevin Day. The Neil Josten, and the Kevin Day. And if she had spent nights watching old Palmetto State Fox games, sitting in awe as she watched him flick balls away from the goal like it was absolutely nothing, no one was going to know.
He was just as apathetic as he had been back then. Lucy had decided he was just emotionless: That didn’t make him any worse at teaching, so it wasn’t really her problem.
And then she became his problem.
Her grades had dropped dramatically low. Andrew stared at the results that he’d just drawn up, picked the paper up off the desk, and leaned back in his chair.
It was a midterm. He’d eyed Lucy Rone’s bad results in the past two mini-quizzes, her surprisingly worsening attendance, and this was enough to force his hand.
Half an hour later, he was convinced this was abnormal behaviour, if her patterns rang true.
Caring, caring. Perhaps the internal monologue would never leave him alone, but he knew better than to listen to it’s mocking tone. Watch yourself turn into Wymack, why don’t you. Call Dan and say you’re taking over as coach of the Foxes.
He almost told himself to shut up, but the chime of his phone snapped him out of his head. It kept chiming and he sighed, picking it up and wedging it between his shoulder and ear, returning to stare at the mark scrawled in the corner of the exam paper.
“Are you going to be here for dinner?”
“Not if you’re attempting to make something.” Neil had improved past the broke-college-student level of cooking skills, but he wasn’t apt enough to cook dinner without some form of disaster.
It hadn’t taken long for Andrew to learn the sound of Neil grinning through the phone. A particular tone of voice, a particular exhale. “It’s already done. Just has to be heated up again.”
“Can’t really be the judge of my own creation, can I?”
“I’ll be home soon.” Andrew liked the way his mouth curled around the word home.”Lucy Rone. Sound like someone problematic to you?”
“Not particularly. Lucy’s always been the name of that old woman sitting on the front porch, knitting. Five cats, crocheting and all.”
“If old ladies swung heavy sticks at other people, sure.”
Andrew let himself smile. He allowed himself this. The small curl up on his lips. He’d earned that, after all this time. “Sure.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Unusually bad performance. Moved from sitting front and centre to back corner. Shit attendance.”
“You’re probably a much better judge of character than I would be, now.”
Because I’ve studied criminal, suspicious and victimised behaviour for a long time, Andrew wanted to remind him. But this was no longer a sore spot for Neil: He no longer needed to read people’s intentions in need to survive, because he was safe. He could let that overly-analytical part of himself behind. It had been almost 12 years since their first win against Edgar Allen. He was still alive, well.
Hard to believe that was partly Andrew’s fault.
Andrew emailed Lucy to visit him before their next class at nine o’clock the next morning.
She was five minutes early, he was five minutes late. He couldn’t say anything about her appearance, considering he was wearing Neil’s jersey under his coat and that he had walked out of the door with a coffee, slippers and nothing to comb his hair with but his fingers.
His students knew not to say anything.
Lucy sported a pair of sweats that had her high school’s initials printed on the front, with a pair of exy sticks embroidered just underneath. Her name was printed on the back pocket, and they only just came down to her ankles.
Exy fan, then. Andrew wouldn’t have guessed.
She didn’t say anything, sparing him a hollow looking before following him into his office. He’d used to share it, until he’d bribed the finicky financial law to move somewhere else. It was entirely his own space, clean and devoid of decoration.
He motioned towards the desk and she leaned against it, clutching the binder to her chest.
Brown skin didn’t usually lose this much of it’s valour, even during winter.
And winters in South Carolina were hardly anything worth mentioning.
She was staring at the floor. Her eyes didn’t move when she nodded.
“All I need is a reason.”
She said nothing.
“It’d probably be easier on you if you told me. I’m your criminology professor: I’ll find out eventually.”
“I’m not on drugs.” She said, quickly, but not so quickly that it was an immediate red flag. An orange flag. Andrew settled back into his seat and propped his ankle on his knee.
“Never said you were.”
Andrew gave her a flat look. “You know who also says that?”
She shook her head.
“Surely someone who still wears her high school’s exy uniform would have an inkling. Yay-high, hair like a fire-engine siren, mouth like one too.”
Her eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to ask if he knows that you wear his old Palmetto jersey. I thought he hated you?”
“I hated him.” Andrew corrected her. “I hate him.” He corrected himself. “And he knows.”
She looked wistful. “Cool.”
She looked back at him.
“If there’s a problem, you come to me. Alright?”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”
“Because you can trust me. I can be a lawyer, a therapist, an advice column, what have you.”
“Can I trust you?”
“When you’re ready to.”
She seemed satisfied enough to nod, murmur a timid thank you, and slipped out the door.
Lucy banged on the door, feeling sick. She couldn’t go back to her dorm, because it made her want to crawl into a corner and be enveloped in a shadow. To be the smallest, most insignificant thing.
She wasn’t sure how on earth her criminology professor was supposed to empathise with her, when he was the human embodiment of a brick wall, but here she was, trembling, feverish, panicked, and knocking on his office door at ten o’clock at night.
He opened the door with a mildly annoyed expression, which flattened out immediately at the sight of her.
She’d only seen him this morning, but that felt like a whole world away now.
She wanted to ask why he was still here, on campus, this late at night. What on earth he could possibly be working on, at ten o’clock on a Tuesday evening. Instead, she blurted: “What does it mean if I didn’t say no?”
Too much, too much, too much: She had asked too much of him, a middle aged professor who apparently had two cats and a boyfriend, if the senior’s rumours were true. Criminology professor aside, this was the last thing someone like him would want to be dragged into –
He stood aside and motioned for her to come in. She shuffled by him, arms around her stomach. He shut the door.
Lucy wanted to be sick.
He pulled a pen out of his pocket – professors always had pens on them, didn’t they? – and tore a corner off a piece of paper, scribbling down a phone number.
“This woman helped me.” Betsy. “She can help you, too.”
“You said you could be a therapist.” Lucy hedged.
He sighed, and she’d never seen him so reflective. “I have my limits.”
She nodded. She took the piece of paper. She left.
“Where the fuck is Court?” Andrew leaned on the edge of his desk at the front of the lecture hall, eyeing the empty seat. Second lesson in a row.
Lucy Rone sat in front of it, back straight, gaze steady.
Andrew looked at her. “For how long?”
There was a hesitant smile. “Undetermined. Charges have been pressed against him.”
Andrew drew a long line through Eddie Court’s name on the attendance.
Lucy waited by the door and saw her professor approaching, with the stack of papers in his hands. She was anxious about this mark, more-so than the others. Her dip in performance would be hard to get back up from, but if she could do it in criminology, she could do it in the rest. There was a cluster of students waiting to get their essay’s grade back, but Lucy was first in line.
“Yay or nay?” She asked.
Professor Minyard gave Lucy a flat look, and opened the door.
Lucy promptly had a heart attack at the man beyond the door.
“Feet. Off.” Her professor said, looking flatly at Neil Josten, with his feet propped up on the desk, arms folded. He, too, was wearing a faded jersey of the Palmetto Foxes’ colours, but it was too bunched up for Lucy to read the name.
“Surprise.” Neil Josten said, and Lucy wanted to scream.
“Get your fucking feet off my fucking desk.” Her professor dropped the large stack of papers next to where Neil Josten had propped up his heavy boots. Neil did not get his fucking feet off the fucking desk.
Lucy almost had the nerve to scream: do you know who that is? Do you have any clue how famous he was? But she remembered that the two of them were friends. Sort of. She held her tongue, and let her heart thrum in her chest, happy to be completely ignored.
“Leave.” Professor Minyard flicked Neil in the temple.
Neil smiled. Neil Josten smiled.
Lucy was having heart palpitations.
He slowly drew his feet away from the desk to stand, still smiling. “Have a nice day.”
“You weren’t meant to be here till tomorrow evening, Josten. Explain.”
“You’re busy. Later.”
Lucy watched her professor’s arm reach out to brush along Neil Josten’s forearm as he slid past, and there was a startlingly foreign crinkle of warmth in his eyes.
The back of Neil’s Palmetto jersey read Minyard. A thin platinum ring, identical to the one her professor wore around his neck, clacked against the doorknob as he pushed it open. She remember her professor occasionally wearing Josten.
There was a startling curve of her professor’s lips, an almost smile that made him look almost human.
Neil grinned before slipping out the door.
Oh, Lucy thought, and then she said it aloud.
Her professor turned on her, pointing. “If you dare to ask me for a single autograph, I will fail you.”
Lucy was still smiling.
“If any word about this gets out, I will fail you.” He warned.
“Are you married?” Lucy laughed.
His face was stone.
“Holy shit. Professor Josten-Minyard. Two cats and a husband.”
“It’s Minyard-Josten.” He said coldly. “Get out.”
Lucy got out.
By the next class, everyone knew, despite Lucy not breathing a word. Which meant the entirety of Neil Josten’s personal but still public Instagram account displayed his home life. But that was none of his student’s – or anyone’s– business.
And if Neil started coming in with breakfast on those Tuesday morning lectures during his off season, that was none of their business either.
a HC where Chubby!MC ask her S/O to break up with her because she thought herself as a burden and only embarass her s/o?? *slips hourglasses
lololol I think I’ll classify this as mini-fic tbh haha I
write whatever comes out. Mm, I can’t think of V’s reaction, sorry…
Reminder that anon requests are closed atm, as
mentioned if you click into our bio’s “Read before Req.” We’re just getting old reqs done first, and denying anon significantly minimizes amount of reqs, but we don’t want to deny all reqs. Anon is still
there in case anyone wants to ask questions or talk :3
Warning: Long post.
Chubby MC asks to Break Up
Jaehee was rubbing her temples, thrown off by your sudden statement. “What brought this on, MC?” she asked, sounding tired and sad already.
When you didn’t reply, she prompted, “Was it something I did? Was it the chocolate I secretly ate a few weeks ago? Or maybe when I ignored you that one time a while back when I was serving a customer? Or was it because I was top last nigh—“
“No!!” you exclaimed. Your cheeks were flushed from her previous comment. Lowering your voice, you continued, “No… It’s just me. I-I… I don’t like how I look.”
She led you to sit down on the couch, running her hand soothingly on your back. Jaehee was staring at you with worried eyes, silently urging you to explain.
Reluctantly, you began to speak. “Jaehee… you’re really, really pretty… Ever since you quit C&R, you’ve become more feminine and beautiful… So many people turn their heads at the sight of you. I bet nobody even thinks that the one next to you is your lover because I’m so… fat. I really do love you, but I’m only holding you back from finding someone better than me.”
The hand on your back slowed to a stop. Jaehee took hold of both your hands, looking you straight in the eyes. “MC. Have you ever heard that a woman becomes more beautiful when she falls in love?”
Without waiting for your reply, she continued, “If you think that I’ve gotten prettier, then it must be because of you. I fell… ah, this sounds cheesy… I fell in love with you. And, it’s also thanks to you that I gained the courage to leave C&R to start a coffeeshop. I can only be so happy because you were by my side, so please, don’t think you’re not good enough for me. If it wasn’t for you, I would still be sitting unhappily at a desk and waiting on Mr. Han day and night.”
Jaehee’s desperation to express her appreciation brought tears to your eyes. You wrapped your arms around her tightly, letting yourself cry on her shoulder. All you could think of was, Thank you, for accepting me.
You were sat atop Zen’s lap, flipping through a magazine
together. In it was the release of Zen’s latest photoshoot, along with an
interview from a famous reporter. Zen had been so excited for the opportunity,
a wide smile on his face when he explained that it would spread his name across
“It’s almost like I’m actually famous or something,” he
murmured in wonder, looking pleased. You giggled to yourself, knowing he was
much more popular than he gave himself credit for.
Your eyes fell to the magazine pages, a submitted fan
article catching your eye:
Although the actor
claims to be in a relationship, we suspect that it is a company tactic. The ‘girlfriend’
in question appears to be very plain, and hardly attractive compared to any
model Zen has worked with in the past. Had she been more visually appealing, it
would’ve raised more dissatisfaction and jealousy. As it is now, no one fears
that she will steal our Zenny from the stage, nor will we worry about him
getting into a relationship with a beautiful model. Smart move, @ Zen’s
Your breath hitched. Were you really that ugly? To the
extent that you weren’t even competition to his fans? It’s not like you wanted
to be the object of envy, but it hurt that they didn’t consider your relationship
serious. Were you really that
mismatched with him?
…Zen is very
handsome, after all.
“Zen,” you whispered, trying to control your shaky voice. “We
should break up.”
He met your eyes with shock. “Jagi? Why so suddenly?”
You couldn’t blame him for asking, it was really out of the
blue. In fact, you weren’t even sure why you’d said it. But the words just kept
rolling off your tongue.
“Look at what they’re saying. Nobody believes I’m even
worthy of being your girlfriend. It’s probably because you’re so handsome, and
I’m just… fat.” You gestured to yourself as if to make a point. “We’re too
different, Zen. We’re in two completely different worlds.”
He frowned. “Jagi, do you think I’m handsome?”
You rolled your eyes, huffing, “Yes, in fact, I just said
“But do you love me because
I’m handsome?” His eyes met yours, a serious look in them. “Would you love
me if I wasn’t handsome? If I didn’t have my muscles, or my abs, or my face, or
my height. From what I’ve learned about you over the time we’ve been together, I
sincerely don’t think you would mind. And, it’s true that I always see gorgeous
models who have slim bodies, but after seeing them so much at work, I’m already
sick of it. I can’t even appreciate their beauty.”
Zen slipped a finger under your chin, tilting your head to
meet his lips with a gentle kiss. With his sharp red eyes burning into yours,
he whispered, “But you… you’re endlessly beautiful in my eyes. Yes, maybe it’s
true that you don’t have exceptional looks. But, even if you’re not the first
person I notice in the crowds, you’re
the only person I’m looking for.”
When the words first slipped past your lips, he thought he’d misheard you. Break up? With him? Why?
A long silence hung in the air.
“I… is there something I’m doing wrong?” he quietly asked you, lowering his head to hide his expression.
You quickly shook your head, explaining that you just weren’t good enough for him. “You’re the heir to a huge company, you’ve received high education and your family has a status… we’re part of different worlds, you know? It takes so much courage for to even stand beside you… Even the newspapers say we’re mismatched.”
Jumin frowned at your words. “MC…” he dragged out your name, raising his head slowly to look into your eyes. “That’s never bothered you before… When we first started dating, I made sure you were able to tolerate this. You told me you’d be fine… I don’t think you were lying at that time.”
You remained silent, averting your eyes as you let him continue speaking.
“MC… what’s really bothering you?” he asked you softly, reaching to caress your cheek.
Your throat felt painful as you tried to hold back your tears. “It’s not like I really want to break up with you,” you began. “B-but… it’s true that we’re incompatible. Everyone knows it.”
“What do you mean? Who’s ‘everyone?’”
“Everyone online, the news, your father… everyone! I’m so fat. I’m not worthy of standing beside someone as handsome as you… I don’t even look like I’m your girlfriend…”
Jumin’s eyes turned cold with disappointment. He walked past you without looking at your face, his jaw clenched. “MC…” he murmured lowly. “Do you remember why I fell for you, in the first place?”
He only left you to find your answers in silence.
Why he liked you…? Jumin always told you that you were different from all the other women in his life… Because you weren’t after his wealth or status… You truly loved him for who he was. What did that have to do with—Oh.
You immediately ran out of the room to find him, tackling him with a hug as soon as you saw him. “I’m sorry!” You chose to apologize first. “I’m sorry… I know I shouldn’t worry about what others think. It’s just, what they’re saying is making me feel insecure about myself… I’m not worried about our relationship, I know you love me and I love you, but… what they’re saying about my body really hurts.”
He stroked your head softly, a small sigh escaping his lips as he stared down at you apologetically. “I’m sorry that I have to put you through this. But I can’t control whose family I’m born into, or how others see me, or what they say about me and the people around me. All I have to give, is all that I am. Are you able to accept that?”
“And if I gained weight, would your answer be different?”
Your cheeks flushed red as you shook your head. No… he would still be the man you love.
“The same goes for me, MC,” he whispered gently, cradling you in his arms. “I’ll say it over and over, however many times you need to hear it. I love you for who you are. No matter what others say, I’m proud that you’re mine.
“Break up?” he repeated, blinking dumbfoundedly as if to process your words.
You only nodded in confirmation.
It was obvious that he was trying to control his anxious feelings, the way he attempted to quiet down his short, quick breaths. “W-why?” he stammered.
You lowered your eyes, whispering the answer.
He tilted his head, not catching that.
“Doesn’t it embarrass you to have a girlfriend this fat?” you mumbled a little louder. “I bet there are so many cuter, thinner girls in your college classes who want to date you instead. You have so many options. I don’t think anybody wants to date someone fat like this… You should go out with someone else instead. I think we should break up.”
Yoosung visibly relaxed, a small smile adorning his face instead.
Confused, you asked, “Why are you smiling?”
“Ah, sorry!! I’m not making fun of you or anything, I swear!” A blush crept onto his cheeks. “It’s just that… I’m secretly glad that nobody else except me sees all your good qualities… I-I want you all to myself. I want to be the only one to see how concentrated you are when you try to cook, the only one to wipe away your tears, and the only one to make you smile… I want to be with you, MC. You’re not an embarrassment to me.”
You frowned as you stared at your puppy-eyed, blushing boyfriend. Your previous thoughts of insecurity and breaking up were dispelled by one: Why is my boyfriend cuter than me??
You’d told him you wanted to break up while he was playing
with a claw machine in the arcade. His head snapped in your direction
immediately, eyes wide with surprise and confusion.
In a small, pained voice, he managed to utter hoarsely,
“Break up…? Why?”
But you could only run off in response. It hurt enough,
having to tell the man you love with all your heart that you wanted to break
up. But his upset expression only killed you inside even more. God, you didn’t
want to hurt him.
But you didn’t want to keep feeling like this, either.
That night, when he returned to the apartment, you were
laying on the couch, feeling guilty and ashamed.
“MC… Please… at least give me an explanation,” he whispered
You glanced up, noticing the redness of his eyes and feeling
another pang of guilt hit you immediately. “I… I’m sorry. I’m just not good
enough for you,” you choked out, tears welling up in your eyes. “I’m only an
embarrassment for you.”
Saeyoung furrowed his eyebrows, watching you carefully.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m so…” you gestured to yourself exaggeratedly. “fat. Look
at me! I’m so ugly.”
“What? You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen!” he
argued back. “A little fat doesn’t take
away from your beauty. Please, MC… I love you.”
You looked down at your feet, not saying anything.
“I’ll gain weight too,” the redhead declared triumphantly.
“And I’ll still be beautiful!”
You weren’t sure whether to feel touched or disturbed, but a
smile graced your face, regardless.
He stayed true to his word, and when his stomach had enough
fat to squish around, he ran to show you, lifting up his shirt and smacking
himself excitedly. “Look at meeee!!!”
It would’ve been less embarrassing if he hadn’t done that in
the middle of a high class restaurant.
“MC, check this out!” Saeran grinned devilishly as he exited
the changeroom, cocking his head to the side as he showed off the outfit. Damn,
he looked fiiine.
You raised both your hands, showing thumbs up, a small smile
on your face. His eyes softened affectionately as he caught your eye, returning
You could hear excited whispers behind you, feminine voices,
gushing over how hot the white-haired man looked. …Huh? They’re talking about Saeran…
“He looks so hot!! Do you think he has a girlfriend?”
“What about that girl next to him?”
“Eww, she’s so fat, no way! Must be his sister or something.”
“There’s no way a guy as good-looking as him would have
someone like her related to him.”
The smile fell off your face. Was that how it looked to
outsiders? It was then that you suddenly burst out, “Saeran. Let’s break up.”
He froze, every inch of his body tense from your words. He
slowly met your eyes, looking as if he couldn’t breathe anymore. Even his voice
sounded breathless as he choked out, “What?”
The walk back to the car was torturously silent and awkward.
The entire time, you were inwardly kicking yourself for saying that. You hadn’t
meant to… god, what if he took you seriously? What if he really did break up
with you? Maybe he wanted this too. Maybe he wanted a girlfriend who was cuter,
thinner and just generally more attractive—anyone but you.
When he sat in the driver’s seat, Saeran couldn’t even find
the energy to start up the car. “MC… can we talk about this? Please.”
You took a deep breath, mustering up what little courage you
had. “I, I don’t know. It’s just, we don’t look good together. The girls back
there… they didn’t think I could even be related
to you, let alone be your girlfriend. Walking around with someone as fat as me
must be really embarrassing for you. I don’t want that. I don’t want to
Saeran looked even more wounded by what you’d just said than
when you’d asked to break up. “Do you really think I care about something like
that?” He directed a fierce glare at you, his words harsh with passion.
Taken aback, you could only stare at him in surprise.
He went on, “I was this edgy, depressed kid who hated the
world and wanted to die, hurting everyone who tried to help me. But you
accepted me even with my baggage, you took care of me… You stayed, unlike
everyone else who gave up. And you’re still here. I… It’s because of you that I
can smile now. Do you really think I’d care about something as shallow as your
weight or your appearance?”
You quietly shook your head, eyes downcast. You hadn’t realized
how much he treasured something as simple as that.
Saeran pressed his forehead against yours, murmuring softly,
“I don’t care how others look at us. There will be people who think I’m not
good for you just because of the way I dress, and there will be people who
think you’re not good for me just because they can’t see how beautiful you are.
But we’ll never be able to meet everyone’s
standards, and we don’t have to, okay?”
Ever think about being Harry’s date to an award show?
He’s so excited telling you that he’s been invited to the Oscars and that he wants you to come with him. But when you remind him that of course he’s invited, he’s nominated, he just laughs and shakes his head, mumbling, “Oh, right, forgot about tha’.”
He insists on buying you the prettiest outfit, setting up countless appointments with your favorite designers. And he’d attend every one, showering you with compliments after every change. But you know you’ve got a winner when his jaw unhinges, tongue lolling to the side as he takes in the way the fabric hugs your every curve, the color compliments your skin tone, and how the style is so quintessentially you.
In the car, he can’t keep his hands off you, though he’s careful not to muss your hair or smear your makeup. At first, you try to keep him from pawing at you, but you have to admit his blue polka dotted Gucci suit fits him exquisitely, and the way he’s left the top few buttons of the pale blue shirt gaping to give a peek of his strong chest has you swooning. Your resolve melts half way to the theater after you whimper a why and he answers, “I’ve got no control around yeh in this dress, kitten.” So Harry and you take turns placing kisses in concealable spots, delicately slipping fingers beneath clothes to feel each other without ruffling or creasing the fabric.
But that doesn’t mean the both of you aren’t flushed from exertion when it’s time to exit the car and walk the carpet.
<b>What she says:</b> I'm fine.<p/><b>What she means:</b> I'm so confused why Brendon and Ryan couldn't just literally come out and say Ryden was real. I mean, now, Ryan really misses Brendon and acts like he's his ex that he still loves, and Brendon's dodging his name like old timers in fandom drama. I also don't understand how Brendon could pretend he wasn't writing a hundred songs about Ryan and not make it obvious. Come on, I mean, "How I missed yesterday, how I let it fade away", "Being blue is better than being over it", "There's no sunshine, there's no you and me". Brendon and Ryan were so perfect for each other. And how come he only recently came out as sexually fluid? What happened in capetown so many years ago? Why does Brendon pretend like nothing ever happened, when he has totally kissed him, worn his shirts, his ties, his guitar strap the post-split performance, held up a sign that says "Ryden Exists" in big capital letters. There are pictures proving it! Also why Ryan flew to New York to Seattle just to see him so they could celebrate Ryan's birthday, without telling his girlfriend or anyone else. Ryan said "He's my boy. Always will be." In a tweet and never let him completely go. Does Brendon still love Ryan? Will they ever confront each other again? What did Ryan do? Why did they try to cover up the fact that She Had The World, When The Day Met The Night, and Northern Downpour were about their love? Were they scared what their fans would do? Why is Brendon so avoiding of Ryan's name? What could he have possibly done for it to be so terrible even talk about him for that long? Why can't we know what happened in capetown? Ryan told Brendon so much and almost loved him, while Brendon was obviously head over heels for him? Why are we left in the dark, aimlessly wandering, searching for an answer in this dark continuum that we may never find? Did something that wasn't consented both ways happen romantically? I know Ryden was real. I just know it. There's too much proof to not realize it. If you showed someone who had no idea what Ryden was or who they were a picture of them, they would immediately assume they were dating. Also, their Twitters. Ryan and Brendon were very close on Twitter, and they couldn't have done a better job of acting as gay as possible. Brallon, also. Do people think that this is some kind of replacement? I feel like Brendon just wanted to be all cute with Dallon to try and replace what he had with Ryan. This may or may not be true, but it's what I think. I can tell Brendon still misses Ryan and loves him deep down in his heart, and Ryan has the exact same feelings. I feel that I will always wonder as I lay in my bed late at night... "What happened in capetown... And why?"<p/></p>
➤ Genre/words: Angst, Future Smut/Mature scenes, Arranged Marriage! AU / 10,648 words
➤ Summary: He is the successor of his family’s business empire, and you are the female heir of yours. After the trouble his older brother had created in the past, he now must face certain requirements needed for the sake of the family’s future and to save his rights of inheritance, and you become his only way out. Everything might seem so simple, just the way they are supposed to. But everything isn’t always what it seems, is it?
EXO Mafia Reaction: When their pregnant wife tries to leave them to protect their unborn child
||| Anons asked: Mafia!exo/bts reacting to their wife wanting to leave them bc she wants to protect their unborn child; Can I request an Exo mafia reaction where you get pregnant and try and keep it from him? |||
You told him you were going shopping but when you didn’t come back for more than three hours and didn’t answer your phone he became worried.
“That girl, she wouldn’t dare do something like this, or would she?”
You have been thinking about leaving for a while now and when you finally decided to go on with your plan, he came back home early and caught you red handed.
“What the fuck are you doing? Don’t tell me it’s what I’m thinking about.”
You came by his office and told him that you wanted a break. He was so shocked by your sudden statement that he only caught up with you outside.
“Excuse me, can you repeat what stupid thing you just said? Are you seriously trying to leave with our child?”
You tried to sneak out at night when somebody grabbed you by your arm.
“And where do you think you’re going, Jagi? Are you trying to escape and leave me all alone?”
When he came back home and found you missing he immediately understood what you did.
“Aish, she shouldn’t have told me in the first place. Now how am I supposed to relax until I find her?”
When he found out you left him with his child he was beyond pissed.
“How dare she do something like that to me? Does she seriously think it will be that easy?”
When he became aware of your plan he was determined to make you understand that no one will keep you and your child safer than him.
“Jagi, please stay, I really don’t want to take any drastic measures.”
You left him a note saying that you will stay at your parents place for a while. He was annoyed that you didn’t call him and tell this yourself so he drove to their house but of course you weren’t there.
“Fuck.” he shouted smashing his car’s window, startling your parents. “I swear, your daughter will be the death of me.”
He tracked you down the same day and demanded an explanation. When you told him you were pregnant he was so shocked you tried to leave him.
“And you would have taken our child away from me just like that?”
He was so excited when he first heard the big news that he couldn’t believe you did something like this to him. He went on a rage, smashing everything he found, no one dared to approach him as they have never seen him this mad.
“Find her and bring her to me. Now!!” he ordered his men.
After telling him you went to the balcony to clear your head but he followed after you. You could see he knew what you were thinking.
“Just don’t. It will only be worse for both of us.”
When he found out that you’re pregnant not from you but from others he was really irritated but when he was told you also left him, he was beyond pissed.
“I can’t fucking take my eyes off her for a second or she goes ahead and makes trouble for me.”
A/N: Almost all of their reactions turned out pretty angry or maybe it’s just me releasing my built up frustration from the exams 😂
My friend, in 2nd grade he fell on the track. He only scraped his knee, but they carried him to the nurse, gave him ointment a bandage and sent him home. The same guy, in 8th grade, he was swinging really high on the swings and his butt slipped. He wound up letting go at the wrong time and flying and hitting the concrete. One teacher yelled for him to go to the nurse. He had scrapes literally all over him. The nurse put a bandaid over all the scrapes, even the huge messy ones. He had to peel the sticky part of the bandaid off of his raw flesh because she used the same size, tiny bandaids for each one. The next day, he wasn’t at school. His mom took him to the hospital, turned out there were rocks from the concrete inside his skin in several places. The same guy, in 10th grade, was lost in the halls and couldn’t find his class. He wound up still wandering the halls, 20 minutes late for class. He tripped and fell down the stairs. His arm immediately started turning blue and swelling up. A teacher walked by and saw him lying on the ground. All he said was “hm, I think you need to get to class. Ask your teacher for a nurse pass.” So my friend got up and walked to the complete opposite side of the school, told his teacher what happened. The teacher freaked out, said his arm looked terrible and he should’ve went to the nurse as soon as it happened. So then, he had to walk all the way past the stairs where he fell, to the other opposite side of the school. The nurse gave him an ice pack and sent him back to class. I got on the bus that day and sat down with him, and his arm was insanely swollen up, and was completely black and blue. He didn’t come to school for two weeks after that, and when he came back, he had a cast on his arm. Turns out, his arm was broken in 4 places.
A/N: IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO HOPE YALL REMEMBER ME AND THIS SERIES. PLEASE READ THE AN AT THE END AS WELL THANKS LOVE YALL
You didn’t realize what exactly you had signed up for when you agreed to the job. Sure, you had some experience, but working as a manager full time was quite tiring. But you felt good going to bed each night, knowing you had done a job well done.
You became good friends with the GOT7 boys, and they helped you out whenever they could, knowing that you were new and temporary. The boys had recently released a new album and were starting their schedules at music shows. You barely found any free time for yourself, but you couldn’t help but think about the bts boys. You missed hanging out with them.
They still tried to contact you whenever they had the chance, but everyone knew it wasn’t the same. You wish you could make time for them and your personal life, but you knew that the following weeks were only going to get busier.
After a few weeks, your schedule seemed to be rather redundant. You had to usher the boys to music shows and interviews every day. You were proud of them for always keeping a smile on their face, despite being very tired. You were starting to realize that perhaps you didn’t really like this job. You were constantly out on the road and you had to deal with incredibly rude people and to be honest, you didn’t know how much more you could take.
After one especially long day, you were surprised to see that the boys had a free night. You dropped them back at the dorms quite early and each of the got7 boys thanked you as the got out of the van. Pretty soon, you found your way to your own apartment and was getting ready for a shower when you heard your phone buzz.
You couldn’t help but smile at your phone. You loved Jin like a brother, but why did you feel your heart flutter a bit? Over these last few weeks, you had learned to forgive Namjoon too. You didn’t want to cut him out completely because you loved all the boys too much to do that. And with being so busy with work, you had learned to get over your feelings. You had the confidence to look at Namjoon now without butterflies in your stomach, you were sure.
You placed your phone down and went to take a shower. After relaxing into the warmth of the water, your mind began to race with the possibilities of writing music. Hell, you even had a minor in music from college. Classmates and colleagues had told you a countless amount of times that you had talent, but weren’t they just being friendly? But after what Jin had mentioned, you now had something serious to consider. It had been a long time since you had written a song, and you were quite scared to show anyone your work, but you realized how happy it would make you hearing someone perform your piece.
And so, after months, you pulled out your guitar and empty sheet music and spent hours, writing and playing whatever came to mind.
Jin placed his phone down with a smile on his own face. He missed talking to you, your playful banter. He missed seeing you around the dorms watching movies or helping him cook or trying whatever it is he made. He just missed your company. So he was content with these small moments he had with you, even if it were simply over text. He couldn’t help but feel excited about seeing you soon at music shows.
Namjoon sat across from Jin, noticing the look on his hyung’s face. “What are you smiling about?” he asks, laughing.
“Huh? Oh nothing” Jin says, finally out of his trance-like state.
“Who were you texting that you have that weird grin on your face hyung?” Namjoon asks again.
“Oh, y/n” Jin says.
And just like that, Namjoon’s own smile fades quickly. Everytime Namjoon tried to forget about you, his mind flooded with images of you. The more he tried to erase the images of you from his head, the more he found himself thinking about you and how much he was missing you. Of course, he didn’t want to admit it.
“H-how is she by the way?” he asks, slowly.
“Good I guess. She said she didn’t really like her job though. I told her about taking up music again” Jin said, honestly.
“She’s into music?” Namjoon asks, quite shocked.
“Yeah…. I’m pretty sure she even studied music a little bit in college. I heard her singing a few times and she even writes a little but I think it’s really good” Jin said, smiling again. Jin thought back to the first time he caught you singing. You were cleaning up the dance practice room after the boys had left. Jin realized he forgot something and went back, only to find you singing and dancing with the mop while you cleaned the floor. He was immediately captivated by your voice, and he couldn’t help but smile at your funny dance with the mop. And before he could help himself, he found himself introducing himself to the beautiful girl dancing around his practice room. And since then, you become good friends with both him and the rest of the group as well.
“Is she thinking about changing careers then?” Namjoon asked.
“I’m not too sure. She said she would think about it, but I think she just wants to finish off strong with the job she has now. I told her we could show her the ins and outs of writing music if she wants” Jin continued.
“I-I could teach her a few things I guess…” Namjoon said. He smiled at the possibility of you two spending time together.
“Hey, I’m sure she would appreciate that! I’ll ask her when she’s thought about it some more!” Jin said excitedly.
Both boys now smiled while they looked down at their hands. “More time with Y/N” they thought, excitedly.
A/N: SOO this kind of took a turn I wasn’t expecting. Hope y’all like it??? Let me know what you think please. How should the story go from here? Let me know if you want a part 5, or I might now really continue this series. I apologize again for posting after so long. I’ve been on vacation and then suffering from jet lag, so I hope you understand!
I had the fortune to go to NYCC this year on Friday, and decided to dress as Ahsoka. I can’t really sew and didn’t have the energy to really learn after work, but I’m creative and a little crafty! So I got a dress of the right shape from forever 21, borrowed a bag from my mum’s closet, a tie from my dad’s closet, a necklace my grandmother gave me for my sixteenth birthday, et voilá!
I was on the main show floor trying in vain to understand the map provided on the app. I had put several signings and events on the Schedule but I couldn’t figure out where on earth they were (if you’ve ever been to the Javits Center you’ll know it’s Enormous). And then I heard someone shout, THERE’S AHSOKA!!!!
It was @ekjohnston herself??? After I got over my complete confusion at someone that I was hoping to meet calling out to me I went over to say hello and she complimented my costume and asked to take pictures with me???? I tried to be Chill but jsyk I died a little. (She wrote the Ahsoka book you guys. I love this book. It’s phenomenal and sad in its very Star Wars way and it’s centered on Ahsoka finding her purpose and new identity after the events of rots. Read it immediately if you haven’t already.) anyway so I took pictures with her and then immediately went and bought a copy of the book and had her sign it. She’s got a really cool signature. I told her so.
A little later Ashley Eckstein @heruniverseofficial did a panel offsite at the Hudson Mercantile. She spoke quite eloquently about her upcoming book and the importance of chasing your dreams. Afterwards I had the chance to meet her and I thanked her for bringing Ahsoka to life, as it was one of the few times I have been able to turn on the tv and see someone who looked like me. Ahsoka is named after Ashoka, an Indian king; the Ashoka pillar is literally on Indian currency, like Washington is on the American quarter. George Lucas has consistently borrowed from eastern cultures for Star Wars - everything from names like Ahsoka, Padme, and Shaak Ti, to the very philosophy of the Jedi. Ahsoka in the show is a Togruta and her skin color is brownish (I know people consider it orange but I still can’t look at her and not see a little of myself. To me, she’s brown.) Ahsoka is incredibly important to me and to a lot of other girls and women like me, and she feels like representation.
((I still can’t believe I got to meet both the voice of Ahsoka and the author who wrote the Ahsoka novel while dressed as her. It feels surreal. I can’t wait to wear bits and pieces of this outfit to work if only to smile to myself.))
A/N: Happy American Assassin premiere weekend and happy belated birthday @stilinski-jpeg! I really hope you guys enjoy the ending to this series that I have grown to love so much. Thank you for all of the support, all of the kind comments and all of the love towards it. Because of your never ending positivity, I have decided to make a sequel series to this. I don’t know when it’ll be out because I still have a lot to plan, but there already is a title which I won’t say because then it’ll be a spoiler for the ending of this one lol. Thank you for reading, I love you guys so much.
Once, when I was around the age of twelve, I almost drowned to death and I remember it like it had happened to me just yesterday. I was swimming around with my closest friends in the world, one of them being Nia. We all played in my pool and were having the times of our lives, not knowing what would be happening in the following seconds as I accidentally slipped and hit my head on the edge of the pool. Immediately getting knocked out, my entire body fell limp into the water.
No one had realized there was something wrong and I was forced to suffer alone. The only thing that surrounded me was absolute darkness. I could hear my friends laughing and playing amongst themselves, but I couldn’t actually see them. I remember feeling like my head was on the verge of exploding as the lack of air left me in complete agony. Everything burned and I had never felt more miserable until, finally, someone noticed me and pulled me out of the water. They breathed life back into my lungs, my eyes eventually opening as I felt the darkness disappear away. Instead, the sight of a worried Nia hovering over me as she performs CPR on me took over my vision.
That moment of complete torture is exactly what I’m going through right now, but this time Nia isn’t here to pull me out of it.