will someone please have the decency to punch me in the face

“Car sex looks so much easier in the movies.” - Jason Todd x Reader (silly Smut NSFW)

Summary : The title is pretty self-explanatory. Smut with feeling yo.

THIS IS NSFW ! It’s SMUT. Meaning there will be a graphic depiction of SEX. Please don’t read if those sort of things makes you uncomfortable and blahblahblah. I have plenty of stories that are SFW without any of those “dirty stuffs”, so you can read those instead if you wanna :-). You can find said stories here : My masterlist blog : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com

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Being Jason Todd’s girlfriend wasn’t exactly an easy “task”. 

Firstly, there was the fact that he was a night vigilante and that it was a never-ending time of worries for you when he was out. You could never fall asleep when he was fighting in the streets of Gotham…And oh mornings were difficult when you had to go to work and he came home late, or didn’t come home at all…

Secondly, he had an infinite amount of issues, and though you were always his cure, the person that’d made him feel better…it wasn’t always easy to deal with his past traumas. Especially since more often than not, he would refuse to talk to you about his feelings and such… You spend countless hours trying to reassure him, to help him go through a panic attack or anything. The Red Hood wasn’t as invincible as he’d like to lead on. But only you saw his “weaker” side, only with you was he able to let go. And he would be forever thankful for that. 

Thirdly, Bruce Wayne. Oh man, Bruce Wayne was a huge problem really. When it started to really get serious between you and Jason, his adopted father decided to take you as a messenger. Like, whenever him and your boyfriend would get into a big fight or something (which happened more than you wished), Bruce would tell you to tell Jason things and vice versa and, frankly, sometimes, it was just extremely annoying and stressful. 

Fourthly, you didn’t always have time for each others, both being rather busy. Or actually, being busy when the other one was free; he was mostly working nights and such, and you were working days. 

Oh and there were countless other reasons as to why it wasn’t always easy to be Jason Todd’s girlfriend, small and big things, but those were the main ones that you could think about. The ones that were always at the back of your mind. 

The main reasons that reminded you constantly why you were so in love with Jason Todd. Because it could only be true love, for you to deal with such a troubled man who sometimes had the emotional capacity of an oyster. 

And oh, the way he acted around you was proof enough that the feeling was mutual. That he loved you so much it hurt. That he would die gladly for you, relive all his traumatisms for you…your presence, and people noticed it often, soothed him greatly and blahblahblah all that cheesy shit you really weren’t into ! Uh. It’s like sometimes, you couldn’t help yourself, like your loved rendered you stupid. 

You adored that feeling, but also, some of your thoughts almost made you vomit because it was too damn cute and…A hand that you recognized instantly laying on your shoulder distracted you from your thoughts. You turned around and here he was.

Jason Peter Todd.  

-Hum excuse me, I’m looking for my girlfriend, (Y/N), have you seen her anywhere ?

Keep reading

Oblivious || Part 4

being oblivious had its perks… but not so much this time. 

(part one)

(part two)

(part three) 

+

“I am not in the mood to deal with you right now.” By the time you finally convinced yourself to go and open the door, the next thing you wanted to do was slam it shut once again. Because, lo and behold, Harry frickin’ Styles was standing at your front door. “I- you gotta get out of here, Harry. I’m seriously not- I don’t wanna talk to you.” 

To say that you were upset was an understatement. You were fuming, you were heartbroken, you were all the negative emotions mixed into one! Just seeing Harry standing in front of you with his perfect face made you want to give him a good, hard punch across his stupid face. (But you knew that if you did that, you’d probably end up hurting yourself.) 

“Y/N, yeh have to let me expla-” Harry jumped when you moved to shut the door on him, making him stick his foot out to stop it from closing. You huffed and whipped around, storming your way over to the couch and plopping yourself down. “Y/N, please.” 

“You’re a shitty fucking person, Harry. You know that?” You cursed inwardly when you felt your eyes watering almost immediately with angry tears. “God, you piss me off.” 

“Y/N, if you’d jus’ give me a chance to-”

“No, you’re going to listen to me, you prick.” You snapped, Harry’s eyes widening at how aggressive you were being. “You’re going to sit down and shut up, and you’re going to listen to what I have to say.” Harry immediately complied, sitting himself down before sliding his sunglasses on top of his head. You didn’t like being so mean to Harry, but… Well, he kind of deserved it. 

“I do everything- and I mean everything for you!” You got up from your place on the couch, beginning to pace back and forth. “I-I buy all your things for you, I manage your accounts, I set up interviews, I run your errands, I- I put my life on hold for you! I’m supposed to be studying literature, a-and psychology, and I’m supposed to be living this fantastic, stereotypical college student life, but instead, I follow you around 24/7 like a pathetic, lost puppy and what do I get in return? Nothing! Harry, I told you from the start I’m not in this job for the money. I took this job because I’m your friend, and I want to support you in every way possible, but it’s so bloody hard to do that when you treat me as if I was nothing!” Your voice wavered slightly, and you tried your hardest not to burst into tears. You never thought you’d be in a situation where you’d be yelling at Harry like this, but there was just so much pent-up frustration inside of you and all of it was just flooding out in this moment. 

“The sad part is that you know I’d drop everything for you at the call of my name. You know I’ll come running because I am just so whipped for you. You know I’m 100% in love with you and it breaks my heart that you’ll never feel the same way about me, but it kills me every single time you talk to me about someone you’re crushing on because, in the back of my mind, I know you’ll never talk that way about me. I’m going to have to get over it, and I will over time, but the least you can do is be a better friend. Because friends don’t abandon their friends outside of a club to go off with a Victoria’s Secret model and then not even have the decency to call me or text me the next morning to tell me where you were or even to check on me! I was the one who stayed out in the cold all night long, but the only thing I could think about when I woke up was where you were and if you were okay or not.”

“I’m tired, Harry. I’m so tired.” There was a moment of silence in which you tried you control your emotions once again, but the next thing you knew, you had burst into tears and crumpled to the floor. 

“Y/N, no…” Harry’s eyes softened as he quickly joined you on the floor, immediately pulling you into a tight squeeze and letting you cry into his chest. 

“Why can’t you take care of me for once? Why can’t I be the one who gets wasted and can barely walk in a straight line? Why can’t you be the one who takes me home and tucks me in instead of it being me all the time? We’re supposed to be friends but you treat me like a stranger now. I…I don’t even know who you are anymore and I-I just want my Harry back.” You sobbed, your words muffled by Harry’s chest. “I want him back, I want us to be like the way we used to be…” 

“It’s a’right, I’m here, I promise.” Harry whispered, stroking your hair lightly and placing a kiss atop of your head. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry… I’ve been a proper dick and I- God, Y/N, I don’t deserve yeh. I really don’t. You’ve always been there for me and sometimes I jus’… I jus’ forget about how much you mean to me and how terrible my life would be without yeh.” You pulled away from his chest and wiped at your puffy eyes, Harry reaching up to cup your face gently. “Don’ cry, angel. Makes my eyes water when you’re sad.” He murmured softly, his thumb wiping away a tear as it rolled down your cheek. “I hate to bring this up, but… I can’t date you. I can’t date you because you’re my Y/N, and I’m your Harry, and we’ve always been jus’ that. I love you so bloody much that it hurts sometimes, and it kills me knowing that I broke your heart… But I really do think it’d be for the best if we, y’know, maybe didn’t take the romantic approach with our relationship.” 

“As long as I get the old Harry back, I think I can survive.” You sniffled, dabbing underneath your eyes and letting Harry’s words really sink into you. Not everything could have a happy ending, and you couldn’t always get what you wanted. And that was okay. That was just a part of life, and you had to accept it and move on. The world would continue spinning, regardless of Harry liking you or not, and sure, it would take a little time for your wounds to heal, but you knew you’d be alright. 

“For the record, you’re a much better cuddler, and chef, and everything else than those other girls. No one could ever replace you. Camille’s pancakes weren’t even tha’ good.”

Take that, Camille. 

+

gif isn’t mine! 

anonymous asked:

Can you do a scenario where daniel and you are in the same class but (for some reason) you hate each other but one day you two realize is not that bad to be together and kinda like each other and end up flirting or something?? Thank youuuu!!!!

Originally posted by wooijn

promise.

member: daniel

rating: g


if the story completely cuts off right where the ‘read more’ is, i suggest you open this post on a computer/laptop or open it on your phone’s browser!


If there’s one thing you hated more than lab work, it’s being partnered with someone for lab work.

And if that wasn’t enough, your partner just had to be Kang Daniel.

Keep reading

The Fate of Black Cats

So I found myself reading some soulmate AU’s and I had this idea for one that nobody asked for. Well here it is anyway. For your reading pleasure.


Soulmate AU where whatever they write on their arms, appears on their soulmate’s. What happens when Marinette becomes convinced that her soulmate is gone for good? Part ½ Rating: G+? Idk, it’s kinda angsty


When Marinette was four years old, drawings started appearing on her arms. At first they frightened her, but her mamma assured her that they were only drawings from her soulmate. Whatever he wrote or drew on his arms would appear on hers and vice versa. After that, she always carried around a marker and would tell her soul mate stories on her arms. She drew him flowers, cakes from her parent’s bakery, the funny dog she saw outside her window, anything she could think of to show him. He wrote back in music notes and cats and silly stick figures. She insisted she learn to read and write so that she could really talk to him. Together they practiced their ABC’s and eventually held conversations. They couldn’t tell each other their names on their arms, but that was ok. He was her boy, and she was his girl. Their arms were never without ink for years to come.

When Marinette turned six, she decided she wanted to really talk to her boy. So she asked her mom if she could call him. She looked a little surprised, but said that if his mamma would give him the phone number she would call him for her. It wasn’t long after that, that neat and unfamiliar handwriting appeared on her arm. She showed it to her mamma and she dialed the phone for her and let her have it. When a lady picked up, she cleared her throat and spoke in her most adult voice.

“Hello, I need to talk to my boy.”

“Alright, here he is.” Marinette waited impatiently while the phone was handed off.

“Girl?”

“Boy!”

They talked for hours. They could finally say whatever they wanted, and it was much faster than writing it down. While they talked they drew each other pictures. It was only the first of many conversations.

They were eight before they told each other their names.

“Marinette is a princess name! It’s pretty and magical just like you!”

“If Marinette is a princess name then you have to be my knight. Knight Adrien.”

“Together we save all of France from an evil sorcerer who enslaves people to make them fight us and try and capture our magic! Knight Adrien and Princess Marinette to the rescue!”

“I think you mean Princess Marinette and Knight Adrien. I, obviously, am the more powerful one.”

“Well duh! You’re not royalty for nothing! I am but your humble sidekick.”

“Nonsense, we’re partners. What’s a princess without her knight?”

“And what’s a knight without his princess?”

“I love you, my princess.”

“I love you too, my knight.”

For years, these daily phone calls were enough for them. They told each other everything. They made up stories of their adventures together. Marinette and Adrien, best friends, storytellers, soulmates.

When they were eleven, Adrien’s mom started getting sick. He wouldn’t tell her much about it, but she knew he was worried. She got worse and worse, until one day Marinette called, and an unfamiliar voice answered the phone.

“I need to talk to my boy.”

“He isn’t here,” the man responded, and hung up.

When she tried calling back no one answered. She tried writing messages on her arms, but he never responded. Marinette grew desperate. She called multiple times a day and covered her arms in flowers and words, anything to try and get him to respond. But he never did. Finally, after a week, whenever she called the number she had long sense memorized, the line was disconnected. She cried for a week and refused to come out of her room. She wrote on her arms hoping for a reply, but none ever came. Finally she wrote just one sentence.

Just tell me if you’re alive.

No reply came, and Marinette promised never to write on her arms again.

The next morning, she came down stairs with her arms scrubbed clean, and for the first time since she was small, there was no trace of ink anywhere.

“Hey, princess, what happened to your drawings?” her papa asked.

“I’m not a princess anymore. I can’t be a princess when my knight is dead.”

Her parents never brought it up again.

Every year on Adrien’s birthday, Marinette broke her promise. She would draw only one thing. It was a black cat cuddling a ladybug, his favorite animal and hers, with the words a Princess and her Knight surrounding it. She never expected a response, and she never got one, but it was her way of remembering the soulmate she never met.

School was harder after that. All her classmates had soulmates who drew them pictures, and eventually some of them met them. She watched her classmates fall in love with their soulmates and send them messages, and ached at the loss of hers. She took to wearing long sleeves, even when it was warm. She never told them what happened to hers. She let them assume what they wanted. Some thought they were fighting. Some thought she was one of the rare few born without one. Chloe was a member of the latter group. It all came to a head when she was fourteen.

“Poor little Marinette. I guess even fate is choosey when it comes doling out soulmates.” Most days, Marinette was good at drowning her out. But that day was his birthday. Her traditional drawing already marred her wrist. “Who would want to be your soulmate? Even if you had one I would bet he would be the scummiest, the most disgusting-“

“He was wonderful!” Marinette screamed. She marched over to Chloe, poking her in the chest. “He was kind, and creative, and funny! He played piano, and he liked cats. He had blonde hair and green eyes, and he loved me!” She could feel tears threatening to overflow as she screamed at Chloe. “And now he’s dead! He died Chloe! I will never meet him!” She could see the horror growing in Chloe’s face, but she had put up with her for too long to stop now. “He died, and now I have to sit here and listen to you disgrace him. I have to listen to you try and sully what few memories I have of him with your lies. I have had enough! Don’t you think I have suffered enough?” At this, Marinette seemed to collapse in on herself. For the first time, she noticed that the entire school was watching. They were dead silent, hanging on her every word. She felt heavy as her tears finally dripped down her cheeks. She looked back up at Chloe, hugging her arms. Chloe was looking on with horror frozen on her face. It would seem even she had a since of decency. Finally, she whispered to Chloe, “Haven’t I suffered enough?” and fled the school. Tears blurred her eyes as she ran. On her way down out, she bumped into a blonde boy she could barely see through her tears.

“Are you ok? Can I-“

“Please don’t touch me.” Marinette choked out and continued on her way out. Once home she locked herself into her room. She refused to come out the rest of the day.

The next day at school, four things happened. First, Chloe avoided her. She wouldn’t look at her or sit near her or talk to her. This suited Marinette just fine.

Second, two new kids were introduced to the class. Marinette was studiously avoiding looking at anyone and was doodling in her sketchbook, so she missed their names. It wasn’t until the girl sat down next to her, that she looked up.

“Hi, I’m Alya, what’s your name?”

“Marinette.”

“Well, Marinette, we’re going to be best friends.” Marinette could feel a smile tugging at her lips as class began.

Third, Ivan turned into a rock monster. Like literally made of rocks. The crazy new girl went running after him yelling about super heroes, and Marinette ran home.

Fourth, Marinette became Ladybug. When she got home, she found a weird box with earrings inside, and a magic talking bug that turned her into a spandex wearing superhero named Ladybug. It’s safe to say the Marinette’s life was never same.

She gradually grew accustomed to her new role and her partner, Chat Noir. They learned to work together and managed to do a decent job of keeping the city safe. She enjoyed having a purpose, even if her partner was a little ridiculous.

Marinette was not very involved in school after her fight with Chloe. Chloe no longer bullied her, but much of her class looked at her with pity. She couldn’t stand it. She eventually discovered that the other new kid’s name was Adrien. Looking at him was a like a punch in the gut. Blonde hair, green eyes, named Adrien. If it weren’t for his subdued and reserved attitude, he could have been her Adrien. She tended to avoid him if only to save herself the pain of digging up old memories. Someone must have clued him in as to why, because he left her alone. She caught him looking at her sometimes, but he never forced a conversation with her.

A year later found her at fifteen celebrating Adrien’s birthday alone. Alya caught her drawing on her wrist before class started.

“What are you doing? I never see you writing on your arms.” She couldn’t see Adrien perk up in front of her and decided to answer truthfully.

“It’s my soulmate’s birthday,” she explained, “if he were alive, he would be fifteen today.” Marinette didn’t notice Adrien slowly turning around in his seat to look at her, she was too busy drawing, but Alya did. “Every year on his birthday I draw the same thing here on my wrist it’s my way of remembering him. See he loved black cats, I and I like ladybugs. We used to tell each other stories where I was the princess and he was my knight. This is how I remember him.” She showed the completed drawing to Alya, then rolled her sleeve back down and got her books ready for class.

Alya stared at Adrien’s wrist as the same drawing took shape there. He was staring at Marinette completely dumbfounded, before he turned to meet Alya’s eyes. In them he learned a new definition of fear. Alya was looking at him with murder in her eyes.

sleepover

A Stisaac drabble! You can read the rest of my drabbles over here at AO3. They’re mostly Sterek and Steter. 


Sometimes, when Stiles is growing up, he wanders downstairs in the morning, yawning and trailing his blankie, and there’s some kid sitting at the kitchen table who wasn’t there the night before. Sometimes the kid stay a few hours, and sometimes a few days, and then they’re gone again. Sometimes the kids are older than Stiles, and sometimes they’re younger. Sometimes they’re fun, and sometimes they’re quiet. Once, a girl bites Stiles so hard that he needs to get stitches on his thumb. Mostly though, the sleepover kids are okay.

Stiles is eight when Isaac first sleeps over. Isaac doesn’t magically appear in the middle of the night. He comes home one afternoon in the back seat of Dad’s cruiser, with a plastic bag full of clothes clutched under one arm.

Isaac is one of the quiet ones. He and Stiles color until it’s time for dinner, and Stiles lets Isaac pick all the good pens first. The ones that haven’t dried out because Stiles forgot to put the lids on. They have mac and cheese for dinner, and Isaac goes to sleep in the spare room. The next morning he packs up his clothes again, and Dad drives him away somewhere.

The sleepovers stop when Mom gets sick. Then she gets worse, and then…

Then she’s gone.

Stiles’s dad is gone too, for a long time. He drinks too much. He falls down a lot. It hurts Stiles in ways he’s too little to properly articulate, but mostly he thinks it’s because his dad is so broken that he doesn’t see how much Stiles is hurting too. Stiles needs him, and his dad doesn’t notice. It takes a long time for things to get better again.

There are no more sleepovers, and sometimes Stiles feels like the strangers at the kitchen table in the morning are him and his dad.

It’s not until Stiles is twelve that he realizes those weren’t sleepovers at all.

Those were emergency care placements.


Keep reading

Please, believe me

Warning: spoilers for 2x11

After swapping bodies, Magnus needs to make Alec believe that he isn’t really Valentine. Alec needs a bit of a push, but after hearing him out, he’s prepared to believe him.


Jace warned Alec about what Valentine was saying; he warned him not to buy his lies. The young Shadowhunter was beyond confused when his parabatai told him that Valentine refused to speak anyone but him, no matter how much the Inquisitor tortured him. The only thing that the man told them was that he was really Magnus Bane and that he wished to speak with Alec; that was it. Alec was furious that the maddened Shadowhunter was now claiming to be his boyfriend. It angered him because Magnus wasn’t feeling well after what happened with the demon; he was so tired and completely lost. And the fact that Valentine dared to claim that he was Magnus pissed him off so much. Alec promised himself that he would make Valentine talk in his own way; and if his punches weren’t going to make him talk, then at least he’d be able to let his frustrations out. Alec didn’t like causing pain to others, but Valentine deserved it in every way possible.

When he was taken to Valentine’s cell, Alec felt how his body tensed up. The man was sitting down, his arms cuffed and legs cuffed to the chair. Alec couldn’t see Valentine’s face, because his head was bowed down, but he could see that the other was in pain and he almost smiled. Valentine was digging his fingers into the chair, his knuckles going white to the bone and he let out a small moan of discomfort when he tried to move and get out of the chair. Alec slowly stepped inside and then nodded when the Inquisitor instructed him again not to fall under the man’s control; everybody knew that Valentine was able to be quite persuasive. Because Valentine wished to speak with him in private, the woman then left, but there were still cameras there watching Valentine’s every move, so Alec didn’t feel too uncomfortable about being alone with the man. Besides, that way no one would stop him if he would happen to lose control over himself and do something to Valentine.

The man flinched when he heard someone stepping inside and he closed his eyes tightly again, wishing that he could hide himself again. He didn’t want to know who it was; probably that horrible woman again. No matter how much he begged and tried to tell them that he wasn’t really Valentine, no one believed him. In fact, they seemed to be even more motivated about torturing him and after the whole day of being tortured and being yelled at, Magnus had come to his crumbling point. He had completely shut down and could only beg that Alec was going to come to his rescue; if Alec wasn’t going to believe him, then that was it for him. He knew what kind of end was waiting Valentine; execution. Just the thought of being in Valentine’s body made the warlock sick down to his stomach and he slowly looked up, trying to mentally prepare himself for another session of torture. Expecting the Inquisitor, Magnus let out a gasp of surprise when he saw Alec standing there.

“Alexander,” whispered the man and Alec immediately felt sick down to his stomach when he heard Valentine saying his full name. His anger only worsened and he had to remind himself not to lose his cool too soon; Valentine still needed to tell them where he hid the Mortal Cup. The Shadowhunter rubbed his palms together and he just took in a deep breath.

“Cut the crap, Valentine. I’m not buying your shit. If you want things to end well for you, cooperate with me,” warned him Alec and crossed his arms on top of his chest and impatiently tapped his foot against the floor and looked at Valentine, who looked completely lost. Seeing Valentine make that kind of expression felt odd, unnatural. It was an expression that Magnus would make, however, and that angered Alec even more. To think that Valentine had the decency to go to such lengths to try make other people believe that he was really Magnus made him sick. “How dare you?” snapped the Shadowhunter and Valentine quickly looked down.

“Alexander,” whispered Magnus and had to look down, he couldn’t bare the look on Alec’s face. His eyes were full of hatred and he couldn’t really blame him. “You have to believe me, I’m not Valentine Morgenstern. It’s me, Magnus, please for the love of God, you have to believe me,” pleaded Magnus and let out a yelp of pain when the metal of the cuffs rammed into his skin again when he moved his arms.

“You must really have a death wish,” said Alec and he was long away from being calm anymore. He walked right up to Valentine and grabbed the collar of his shirt, ramming him back against the chair. Magnus’ eyes went wide when Alec suddenly grabbed him and even though he tried to struggle and get away from him, it was completely useless. “Tell me where you hid the Mortal Cup,” said Alec calmly again, but the grip around the other’s shirt tightened and Magnus felt his throat going dry.

Alexander didn’t believe him. Magnus’ heart sunk to the pit of his stomach and he chewed on his lower lip, trying to come up with something to make Alec believe him. He was frantic, unable to keep a straight train of thoughts with Alec looking at him like that. “Please, try to think, Alexander,” whispered Magnus and his breath was now shivering like crazy. “The man that’s supposed to be me is Valentine. Our bodies have been swapped. The Greater Demon-”

“Shut the fuck up, Valentine,” spat Alec, who had it enough. “I can’t actually believe that you’re so foolish to think I’d actually believe you. And just for the record, Magnus is now in his apartment, resting after what happened with the demon yesterday. It’s because of you that-”

“Please. If you don’t believe me, they’ll kill me,” whispered Magnus and shook his head.

“Good, you deserve it,” said Alec and gritted his teeth. “You’ve killed so many, so the Clave will be doing all of us a favour by getting rid of you,” snapped Alec and Magnus’ eyes widened.

Valentine looked genuinely upset with Alec’s comment and the Shadowhunter blinked a few times, trying not to give it. For only a split second, he could swear that he could see Magnus somewhere deep inside, but then he remembered what Jace told him; don’t buy his lies. Even though Magnus knew that Alec’s words weren’t directed to him, they still hurt like hell. Defeated, he stopped struggling and he bowed his head down.

“Don’t say that,” whispered Magnus. “Just the other day… you told me that you loved me,” he then stammered and felt tears gathering in his eyes.

Alec stiffened when he heard the other one say that and the grip around Valentine’s shirt tightened once more, his heart now hammering against his ribcage. How did he know that? It was only them when he told Magnus how he felt about him. Shocked, he slowly pulled back a bit and looked at the man, who was now looking down and Alec became angry again. It had to be some kind of a trick, there’s no way that that was really Magnus.

“Stop it!” yelled Alec. “How are you doing this?”

Seeing that he hit the nail on the head, Magnus felt a bit more hopeful and he slowly straightened himself up. His entire body was shivering with adrenaline, knowing that that was probably his last chance to make Alec believe him. Magnus knew that he needed to be careful; just a wrong word was probably enough to ruin his last chance.

“I told you that I loved you as well,” whispered Magnus and Alec’s face darkened with anger.

“That’s impossible,” whispered Alec and shook his head. “There’s no way in hell that you’re really Magnus, I-”

“Our first date,” then said Magnus and Alec stiffened again. “It took us a while to finally go on our first date, we kept getting distracted,” he said. “But when it finally happened, you told me that you were never in a relationship before. It freaked me out, because I’ve been with so many before. I shocked you when I told you the exact number. We walked back home from the date, you were silent for the entire way back. I worried, I thought that you were turned off by the idea of me having so many past relationships. But in the end, you told me that it doesn’t matter how many people I’ve been with before. You said you’re willing to give us a try,” he went on by saying, speaking fast and Alec’s eyes widened.

Alec’s grip around the man’s shirt loosened up and he let the other one go, his mind racing. Alec kept looking at Valentine’s face and tried to tell himself that it wasn’t Magnus; it couldn’t be. But then again, how did he know so many details? There was no way that Valentine could know so many details about their relationship. Alec looked down and then up again, confused and he tried hard not to believe the other. But at the same time, Magnus was acting kind of off. He didn’t want him to come over, that was one of the red flags. Alec thought that Magnus was too tired to spend time with him, but usually the warlock would never be too tired to spend time with him. And another thing; Magnus wasn’t responding to his texts or calls for the entire day.

“I-”

“Y-you still don’t believe me?” asked Magnus and pressed his lips together. “The charm!” he then exclaimed and Alec froze in place again. “We went to Tokyo, remember? You bought me a charm there that is supposed to bring me good luck. You-you were so excited to give it to me, but then the moment was ruined by Jace and-”

“By the Angel,” whispered Alec and pressed a hand against his own mouth. His breathing was fast and uneven. Hearing that was enough to let Alec know that the other one was telling the truth; there was no one else that knew about the charm that he had gotten Magnus in Tokyo. “Magnus,” breathed Alec out and slowly touched Valentine’s hand. “It really is you,” he then said and Magnus slowly looked back up. “How-”

“Oh thank God,” whispered Magnus, feeling weight lifting off of his chest when he saw that Alec finally believed him and he then threw his head back, closing his eyes and tears of relief and happiness wet his face. “You believe me.”

“Yeah, I do,” whispered Alec and frowned; seeing Valentine crying was an experience. But since he knew now that it was really Magnus, he placed a hand against the man’s aged cheek and even though he felt quite uncomfortable, he forced a weak smile. “Sorry it took me a while. I thought that it was just one of Valentine’s ideas to mess with us.”

“The only thing important is that you believe me now,” whispered Magnus and moaned out in pain when he moved.

Alec’s eyes widened when he realised that Magnus must’ve been experiencing excruciating pain and he cursed. He quickly got up onto his legs and walked out of the cell, going to Madame Inquisitor, who was watching everything on the monitor and the woman didn’t seem phased. “Uncuff him, that isn’t Valentine,” ordered Alec.

“Lightwood, don’t tell me you believed everything that he had just told you.”

“With all due respect Madame Inquisitor, I know my boyfriend,” said Alec and rolled his eyes when the woman flinched when he said the word boyfriend. “There’s no way that Valentine would know all of the details that he had just told me. Believe me, I was sceptical as well, but that man in there isn’t Valentine, I’m telling you.”

“How dare you-”

“Uncuff him,” demanded Alec again, who was growing out of patience. “Valentine’s out there, with Magnus’ magic. Imagine the damage that he can do,” said Alec and the Inquisitor stiffened, because she knew that Alec had a point.

“Fine,” said the woman. “We’ll bring the warlock in for questioning.”

“Good,” said Alec. “Will you uncuff him now, please?” he then asked impatiently and pointed to Valentine’s cell.

The Inquisitor instructed others to finally let go Magnus free of the chains, but before Alec could return to Magnus, the woman stopped him by saying, “If turns out that you’re wrong, the consequences are going to be terrible for you and your entire family.”

Alec felt his throat going dry, but he just nodded. “I’m willing to accept those consequences,” he muttered and then quickly returned back to Magnus.

Chapter 9 - Vocalise

Chapter One & Two  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21

What is taking him so long? You’d been awkwardly standing in the bathroom for about ten minutes and Baekhyun still hadn’t returned. You were starting to worry that he wasn’t going to return with your underwear. You paced back and forth in the room trying to shake off the building anxiety over your missing clothing. You stopped and stared at the stool, touching a finger to your lips. Baekhyun was a good kisser. You silently cursed Yixing for breaking up your make out session. A small part of you was thankful he’d walked in, even if he was oblivious to what was going on in the room. If he hadn’t you weren’t sure how far the two of you would have gone .

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FIC UPDATE: Any Four Walls: Not Like This

Also on AO3

#

Not Like This

Garrus woke with a start as sudden and overwhelming as a stim-shot, sitting upright even as he clawed at the smothering blankets, haunted by the lingering images left by his nightmare. His father, grim-faced. Shepard in a doorway. It’s—it’s Solana, Shepard. And the children.

A nightmare. Far worse than the ones featuring screaming Banshees and Reaper turians whose faces he couldn’t help examining, looking for familiar angles, familiar curves.

Just a nightmare.

And yet.

And yet, the bed was not his bed, the sheets not his sheets. His side ached, almost as if someone truly had jabbed a needle into the soft hide of his waist and emptied a vial full of poison into him. Instead of flowers, or candles, or the faint scent of Shepard’s perfume, the only smell was the universally unsettling antiseptic stench unique to hospitals.

Even with his heart slamming like a fist desperate to punch through the wall of his chest, bone and blood and plates be damned, it took real effort to force his eyes open. He sucked in a breath; too shallow. Another. Another. The blankets were a white blur. Blinking did not sharpen his vision. No telltale halo of red hair sat at his bedside.

It’s—it’s Solana, Shepard. And the children.

“Garrus. Hey. In and out. One breath at a time, G. One cardiac arrest per day is more than enough.”

He swung his head toward the sound, recognizing his sister’s voice even before her indistinct edges took shape. The sun behind her was too bright, even dimmed by the darkened panes of glass. Like his eyes, his voice wasn’t working yet, either. His talons clenched and unclenched in sheets nothing like the soft ones Shepard always splurged on.

Tell me, he wanted to say. Tell me.

Instead of words, only faint keening escaped on his released breath.

Solana said, “I’m sorry, G. I don’t know where they are.”

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Carrots

A/N: Okay so, I can’t remember who requested this. So here ya go, some Connor fluff!!!!!!! I personally didn’t like this, but I’m posting because a few friends said it’s good. Thing is, I haven’t written in a long LONG time - well, not in english -, so I fear my writing might be a bit rusty and the style might differ from the first half of the fic. Plus, I want to say that this fic is silly. Very silly. Anyways, as I said prior, our next boy might be JayJay aka Jacob. There’s a request for Altaïr and La Volpe regarding this AU; also one for the name of your soulmate written on your wrist. I might do this one with either Arno or Ezio? I’m kinda leaning more towards Arno tbh *Arno sucker*

Special thanks to @miss-t0mboy for being so lovely as to offering herself as my beta reader!

Your name: submit What is this?

You idly watched the market, mostly sailors carrying crates moving hurriedly in front of your family stand, sighing in defeat. There were people, yes; but not even near to the most busy hours. It was early, way too early to be on your feet — but your dad explained, more than once, that today was the day scheduled for mercantile ships to come back to the Boston harbor and unload whatever it was that they carried. It was a busy day, a day for trades, you kept reminding yourself…

But what you didn’t understand was the necessity your dad felt to be the first to arrive at the market. “The early bird catches the worm”, your mother had said.

Yeah, sure. But what if the bird was so early the worms weren’t even up yet?

You stifled a yawn, placing more apples on the wooden stand, hoping to catch everybody’s attention — not because your family stand was one of the three or four within working hours, but because the quality of your products had to stand out. Your mother talked in a chirpy voice, luring customers in as the morning carried on rather slowly. You smiled dreamily, eyeing the sailors curiously when they passed by.

You were anticipating. Your mark itched every time you thought about it, about the possibility of meeting your soulmate. Most of your friends had found their partners — even Catelyn, that unbearable girl with the upturned nose to everything and everyone around her. Was destiny playing with you? You had heard tales about others who hadn’t been able to find their soul mates, or missed the chance… what if you were to become one of them?

Sighing, you thought it was just foolish. There was no you way you weren’t going to notice it. Those words had long found a place in your mind, marking your heart and refused to leave, even late into the night when you couldn’t sleep; despite their… oddness.

“Sweetheart” your dad called for you, interrupting your thoughts, voice slightly out of breath “can you help me with these?” he pointed to the crates still inside the battered wooden cart.

Your dad was an easy man to smile to — so you did, sighing softly afterwards. “Right away.”

You went towards the cart, groaning in pain as your dad passed you a wooden crate filled to the brim with carrots. God, he was giving you the carrots! “I feel like you always give me the heaviest ones, father” you joked, turning around to fill the stand once more.

“You know me so well, Y/N” he said humorously at you.

You walked awkwardly towards the main street — it’d be easier to fill the stand from there —, legs wobbly and eyes unable to see much more than carrots and the top of people’s heads. You groaned under the weight of it and right before you reached the front stand a sailor passed by you, pushing your shoulder rather briskly to make way — and that was enough to make you lose balance.

Not wanting to fall down and stain your clothes because honestly, Boston’s filth was so damn hard to scrub off of anything, you let go of the crate and watched as it unceremoniously dropped to the floor.

And now this, you thought rather bitterly, kneeling and doing your best not to stain the light color of the gown, you tried to gather the spilt vegetables — your mother was too busy selling to a woman who looked like a maid. She gave you a pointed look, as if asking if you were alright and you waved a hand back at her from your position.

I believe you dropped a few carrots” a soft voice came from behind and your head shot up “Do you need help?”

Shit.

You whipped your head back, eyeing the man from toes to head and spit out the first thing that came into your head.

Wow, you’re big.”

The man was, indeed big, but you hardly doubted that this was a polite thing to say to someone offering help. The next thing you noticed was the slightly darker tone of his skin — a native, in Boston? — and the way he folded his hands in front of his body. He had shoulder-length dark hair, the upper half of it tied back and big brown eyes — that now were wide. 

His attire was nothing like you’ve ever seen before, a mixing between the usual native clothing you were able to identify by the tales of travelers and something else you couldn’t exactly pinpoint. The stranger frowned, and you noticed he had freckles, casting his eyes downwards to his wrist and then back to your face as a sheepish smile appeared in your lips.

“I— my apologies, but—“ the man stuttered as you got up in a hurry, doing your best to beat the dust off of your apron.

“I can’t believe it’s you!” you chirped, nearly knocking the native down, ignoring the looks from a few passerbies, the excitement taking over you before the decency and common sense called you donw “I do… believe you’ve said my words, sir, but… They’re awfully simple, you see, so I just want to make sure that…” God, you’ve waited for this moment for so long that you never wondered how things would go once they’ve actually said it.

“Yes, I… believed you have said mine as well, I—“ he blushed, clearly flustered at his lack of words. “Can you tell me your name?”

The Meme and His Tutor

Part 14: The Time The Tutor Got Her Revenge

Recommended Song: Mommae by Jay Park feat. Ugly Duck

|All Chapters|

Summary:

After one lot of revenge the week before, you felt the need to get revenge for something else. But you end up realising something while you’re at it.

Genre: Fluff, comedy

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 2731

Length: 14/?

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Arrested Development Starters

For the lazy option if you can’t pick on, send Arrested Reverse & the mun will generate a random number for the muse to react to or say ( mun’s choice ) // Any words with <highlighted like this> can be replaced with different words, pronouns, nouns, and names. 

  1. AI’m just hoping to get mildly injured.
  2. Will someone please have the decency to punch me in the face?
  3. Stop lying. Stop manipulating. Just be nicer.
  4. I don’t know what I expected.
  5. No sugar for you. You just get more awful. 
  6. I don’t understand the question, and I won’t respond to it.
  7. I don’t know who that is, and I don’t care to find out.
  8. I made a pun! Even in this time of stress.
  9. Here’s some money, go see a Star War.
  10. I’ll be in the hospital bar. 
  11. It’s <his/her/their> glasses. They make <him/her/them> look like a lizard.
  12. Oh, <she/he/they> thinks I’m too critical. That’s another fault of <hers/his/theirs>.
  13. You spent $68 on hair conditioner?
  14. A small price to pay for self-esteem, <name>.
  15. Would a coward have this?
  16. If you’d tried and failed, I’d understand, but you didn’t even try.
  17. So, I didn’t even fail, and I don’t see you giving me credit for that.
  18. You seem more villainous than usual, <name>, are you sober?
  19. You know, I think you are looking for a reason this isn’t going to work because you can’t handle happiness, and you like to suffer. 
  20. How am I supposed to find someone willing to go into that musty old claptrap?
  21. A trick is something a whore does for money. Or candy.
  22. Look what the homosexuals have done to me.
  23. You’re not the one staring 5 years in the face. 
  24. Well, right now I’m staring 100 years in the face!
  25. If you’re saying I saying I play favorites, you’re wrong. I love all my <children/etc> equally.
  26. You taste these tears. Taste my sad, <name>.
  27. I’m a failure. I can’t even fake the death of a stripper. 
  28. My gut is telling me “no” but my gut is also very hungry. 
  29. All I could think was if something were to ever happen to me, how sad I’d be, you know?
  30. I’ve got friends, <name>. I just don’t talk to them because I work all the time. 
  31. Listen if you insist on speaking to me like you’re my <wife/husband/partner>, then don’t be surprised to find my dick in you and then you never hear from me again. 
  32. There’s only one sleeping bag so we’re gonna have to double up. Pigs in a blanket. 
  33. I need you to act as my <boyfriend/girlfriend/partner> to help me get in.
  34.  If you feel something moving down there, it’s just the bird. 
  35. <name> I appreciate your bravery. And I know everything seems doomed now, and believe me, I’m in a similar situation myself, but trust me. We are fucked. We are fucked. 
  36. Oh, I have a list of men that could fill every opening you have. 
  37. Excuse me, does these effectively hide my thunder?
  38. I don’t see you crying, robot!
  39. I’ve got it down to two, but honestly, I don’t even want to choose. 
  40. I just feel… I feel like the prettiest <girl/boy/dancer> at the dance. 
  41. Please tell me there’s some coffee left!
  42. I don’t want no part of your tight-ass country club, ya freak bitch!
  43. We have unlimited juice? This party is gonna be off the hook. 
  44. We loved her/him/them just as much as any of you normal kids. More than <name>.
  45. It’s a great day…. For being sad. 
  46. I was just wondering if you might want to… Bid me fair ‘morrow.
  47. This is no longer a peace pizza. This is a war pizza. 
  48. I’m afraid I just “blue” myself. 
  49. Daddy/Mommy horny, <name>.
  50. If that’s a veiled criticism about me, I won’t hear it and I won’t respond to it.
  51. Oh, boy, I got some looks on the bus ‘cause of this. 
  52. Look who feels the sting of an ungrateful <child/friend/etc>. 
  53. <Mother/Father/name/etc>, you have to receive something to be ungrateful. 
  54. “I’m <mom/dad/name/etc>, and I want to shoot down everything you say- so I feel good about myself.”
  55. Here you go, hot tea, ‘cause that’s what you are, a hottie.
  56. I like to fuck with people. That’s what I do. 
  57. I will not take this sacred duty lightly. 
  58. I am going to get you the single most healthiest call <girl/boy/etc> that this town has ever seen.
  59. This is why I’m calling it a “witness,” and not a “<best man/bridesmaid>.”
  60. Look, all you have to do is watch.
  61. Oh, I’m not going to spend this money and not watch.
  62. Actually, I was going to stay in my office tonight and work on my law blog. 
  63. Why should you go to jail for a crime someone else noticed?
  64. If you weren’t all the way on the other side of the room I’d slap your face.
  65. I was like a cat. I always ended up on all fours.
  66. You want your belt to buckle, not your chair. 
  67. I mean, it’s one banana, <name>. What could it cost? 10 dollars?
  68. You’re telling me there’s no alcohol? What the hell are we supposed to do for two days?!
  69. Oh my god! You still doing breakfast burritos?
  70. If that <man/woman/etc> is straight than I am sober. 
  71. What are you doing? Are you trying to cry?
  72. OH, MY GOD, WE’RE HAVING A FIRE.. sale.
  73. I suppose I’m buy-curious. 
  74. Hey, where the fuck are my hard-boiled eggs?
  75. For there’s a <man> inside me, and only when <he’s> finally out I can walk free of pain. 
  76. Well, I spend so much time making sweet love on my <wife/husband>, that it’s hard to hear anything over the clatter of <her breasts/his chest>–
  77. We shan’t be telling your <mother/father> this, shan’t we?
  78. <name>, you blowhard!
  79. Who’d like a banger in the mouth? Oh… right, I forgot; here in the states you call it “a sausage” in the mouth. 
  80. It’s a tough job, might require some agility.
  81. And that’s why… You always leave a note. 
  82. You know, the universe works in mysterious ways, <name>. You never know where help is going to come from until you look for it. 
  83. I’m a saint, you know. I’m a living saint, and I get absolutely nothing out of it. 
  84. Well, you get a false feeling of superiority. 
  85. That is nice, but this time it’s not enough. 
  86. Illusions, <dad/mom/name>! You don’t have time for my illusions.
  87. Don’t judge me. You’re the selfish one. You’re the one who charged <his/her/their/your> own <brother/sister/friend/cousin/etc> for a frozen banana. 
  88. You’ve never actually set foot in a supermarket, have you?
  89. I don’t criticize you! And if you’re worried about criticism, sometimes <a diet> is the best defense.
  90. I know you’re the big marriage expert– Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot. Your <wife/husband/partner> is dead. 
  91. Let me ask you, are you at all concerned about an uprising?
  92. Oh! <He’s/She’s/They have> got a sharpened noodle! <pronoun> trying to noodle-stab me!
  93. The next thing I know, I’m running for my life. 
  94. Check your lease, <man/dude/etc>, because you’re living in FUCK CITY. 
  95. <She’s/He’s/etc> trying to prove that <pronoun> closer to my <children/friends/family> than I am…. but jokes on <pronoun>, because <pronoun> doesn’t know how little  I care for <name>. 
  96. I feel like a fucking idiot. 
  97. Well, I’d rather be dead in California than alive in Arizona.
  98. Everything this <family/team/etc> does is so dramatic and flamboyant. It just makes me want to…. set myself on fire!
  99. Why should I have to sit and cheer <name>? <name> never cheers for me.
  100. I can’t. Because I’m… Don’t want to.
Like You

Request: Hi! Love your blog!! Can you possibly do a imagine where you/ reader are dating this guy who is a real jerk to your friends and flirts with other girls behind your back? One day you find out that your boyfriend is cheating on you, and you are heartbroken. Barry fights with your ex about it and after he admits his feelings for the reader.

And

Barry Allen x self conscious! Reader?

WARNING: This contains emotionally abusive content from a significant other.

A/n: whoop (I used the name Dean because supernatural.)

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Just Thought I’d Check in on My Beloved - Pt 2

Benvolio glanced around the palace foyer, admittedly rather confused.  Either he was the first to arrive (the more likely considering he’d never been alone with their sovereign before), or he was in fact here to meet the Prince alone (the less ideal of the options, because a private meeting with the Prince did not strike him as something positive).  

“Signore Montague, thank you for coming so promptly.”

The man in question turned to see the prince enter, and bowed respectfully.  “Of course, Your Grace; ‘tis not often my sovereign requests an audience.”  Escalus gestured towards a large study, and Benvolio could not help a sense of unease as the doors were closed behind them.

“I regret that this is not a more pleasant meeting, but something has happened.”

Fear tightened every muscle in his body.  “Rosaline?”  The intensity of his concern surprised the young Montague, but he could not fathom another reason the prince would summon him without the Lord of his house.  

“No, I assure you this is not regarding her.”  His eyes flashed for a moment, with what looked strangely like jealousy, and again Benvolio found himself watching the prince with narrowed eyes.  “This is…about your cousin.”

All thoughts of his betrothed fled from his mind, confusion replacing them.  “Romeo?”

Escalus nodded, regret in his eyes.  “The evening of the feast of the Great Houses, an unknown criminal entered into Romeo’s crypt…and mutilated his corpse.”  He paused when Benvolio inhaled sharply, and the Montague could not hear the rest of the prince’s explanation over the roar of his blood rushing in his ears.  A gentle hand on his shoulder grounded Benvolio after a moment, but could do nothing to ease the nausea and grief threatening to overwhelm him.  “Forgive me for bearing such terrible news, Signore Montague…I could not risk inciting vengeance by telling the head of your House, but felt it important that you know.”

“I beg your pardon, You Grace…I…I must take my leave,” he choked.  Without waiting for a response, Benvolio gave a sloppy bow and stumbled out of the palace.  He was so consumed by his grief and rage that he did not notice his betrothed calling after him as he passed her.

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Enterprise Crowd - Part 4

Summary: These are the adventures of Reader, a Lieutenant Commander assigned the Enterprises IT engineering team. Her biggest flaw? Her temper.

Wordcount: 1700ish?

A/N: This week in “Enterprise Crowd”: Regrets and hangovers are had. People get hit in the face. I could also not find a gif that fit, so I skipped it.

Warnings: hangover, general cursing, f bombs

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3


There were a few minutes of blissful ignorance until revelation hit you. It was nice, warm and snuggly and your body hadn’t yet started to try and collect last nights debts from you, instead cushioning you in a warm fuzzy feeling of post-intoxication. A stubble brushed over your shoulder, a pair of lips kissing you gently. A rough hand traced the line of your shoulder idly, caressed your back and landed on your ass, gripping it gently. He earned himself a purr from your lips for this - his hand knew exactly what it was doing there. Firm and slightly massaging and just overall nice. The owner of said hand sighed softly, his lips now brushing against your ear.

„Tha’s nice“, mumbled an all too familiar scottish voice right there and with that memory came flooding back.
„Woah.“, you exclaimed and froze at once.
„Fuck.“, you yelled then and leapt forward, out of the bed, only to get your foot entangled and land face forward on the floor were you then moaned in pain.
„Shit, what…“
The scotsman sat up, rubbing first his eyes and then his temples.
„Lass…“ he muttered, still half asleep, forcing his eyes open in an expression of equal parts hangover, disbelief and smugness.

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Car Keys Pt 2

Author’s Note: Ah, I’m sorry, this took a lot longer than expected! However, I have some news~ I’m coming out with another MX fic soon! Try to guess what member it is :) -Admin L

Genre: Fluff/Angst, Bad Boy!AU

Member/Group: Kihyun/Monsta X

Originally posted by wonhobe


“This guy had the nerve,” you hissed to yourself, heading towards the dumb blonde you called your best friend. You could’ve sworn that steam was coming out of your nose, but you wouldn’t know, as you hid yourself from everyone but your childhood best friend.

That friend was tagged Wonho. His real name was Shin Hoseok, but seeing as there was a few of those around, he went by Wonho. You called him whatever you preferred, though; in this case? Dumb blonde.

Your hand curled on his shoulder as you forcefully turned him around. He seemed to have been talking with someone, but you didn’t care. His eyes were wide as he made eye contact, observing how angry you were. From your point of view, you could tell he was gauging how angry you were.

You were not in the mood to wait, though, and quickly dragged him to the side. Your hand unconsciously curled into the fabric of his sleeve and tugged harshly as you walked, nails digging into his arm. You were pissed and there was no stopping you.

“What happened?” He immediately asked once you came to a spot where no one went. Just then you noticed how tightly you were gripping him, and quickly let go, muttering an apology quickly before speaking up.

“Kihyun happened. He’s pissed over his grades, and I almost punched him,” You said, sighing as you folded your arms. Wonho didn’t look surprised nor did he look impressed, but you were less worried about his emotions.

“I’m not surprised.” Wonho responded bluntly, stating the obvious regardless of whether you wanted to know or not. You huffed slightly, not noticing who just walked by. 

The bell rung loudly throughout the school,  and it was time for your now least favorite class: English, aka the class you shared with Kihyun and his group of friends. You turned to Wonho, fiddling with your binder as he got ready to go.

“We’ll continue talking later, have fun in Math,” you hummed, knowing he was going to dread the class from the huff he gave. However, as soon as you turned around, a certain pink haired boy turned the corner and rammed right into you.

“What the fuck?” He cursed after colliding with you, and you felt your anger level rise just a notch. He didn’t even have the decency to say sorry.

“Watch where you’re standing,” he hissed. Kihyun was in a bad mood everyday now, it seemed. You stepped to the side to let him pass, only because you didn’t feel like making a fight.

~

More time passed as you sat in class, the heel of your hand resting on your chin, holding it up. Usually Kihyun was never late to class, but it had been ten minutes since that bell rang, and you were wondering where the hell that guy went.

You were about to tell yourself to stop worrying about him and focus on work when the teacher spoke up, suprising you with your name. You took your eyes off the door oddly reluctantly and looked up at the toppling teacher.

“Y/N, can you go find Mr. Yoo, please?” The teacher spoke, as if asking a question, although you knew it wasn’t an option.You let out a sigh, reluctant to get up, but the hard look your teacher was giving you motivated you.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll go.” You muttered, putting your binder under your desk. You didn’t bother to take one of those dumb hall passes, they were useless. Flipping your hoodie up, you began traveling the school.

The first place you went was to the locker rooms. There was no pink haired punk there, so you moved to the cafeteria. Yet, still no sign of that dumbass.

Finally, you were left with one place- outside. You hated that word. ‘Outside’ just described one of your least favorite places.

You jogged slowly to get outside. If he was anywhere out here, he’d most likely be out in the bleachers, you guessed. But why would he be alone?

As you came closer to the giant set of metal seats, you saw the all too familiar pink mop of hair that made Kihyun stand out. Strangely enough, you loved his hair- it always looked so soft, and even through your rivalry you wanted to see if it truly was as soft as it looked.

As you came even closer, you noticed his head was down. What was wrong with this guy? Was he trying to take a nap in the wind?

“Hey! Where the fuck have you been-” you yelled, before realizing you heard him sniffling. Stopping yelling, you knew at that moment something was wrong: Yoo Kihyun doesn’t cry, yet here he was.

You don’t know what possessed you at that moment, but you rushed over, sitting down and looking under so you could see his face. But he hid more, and a miserable whimper touched your ears.

“If you’re going to yell at me, go away.” He whispered, voice hoarse and catching in his throat. A feeling of guilt washed over you and you suddenly felt bad for him.

A small wave of confidence overtook the guilt, though. Before you could comprehend it, your hands were on his cheeks, lifting his face up to look at you. You were certain you were going to make this right. Why? You didn’t know, but seeing him cry didn’t feel right.

Bruises. The first thing you saw was bruises. A purple ring around his eye, a cut on his cheek, a fat lip; all things you hated.

You wake, but your memories are fuzzy…

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember seeing a tear — a real, honest rip in the air itself. The image is fuzzy, but a feeling in your gut tells you that it was real. And through the tear came a hand. Flesh and blood, fingers, grabbed you before you could even think to run. The sensations that followed were overwhelming; pressing, pulling, ripping, splitting, atom-separating. It was painful and frighting, and then

                                                        n o t h i n g.

When you wake, you feel fine. Your head feels a might compressed and your back aches from the metal floor under you, but you’re surprisingly unharmed. You stretch and attempt to stand, only to kick someone in the head.

They groan and you scramble to your feet, heart hammering in your chest. It suddenly hits you; you’re not where you once were, nor are you alone. You are surrounded by others, conscious and unconscious, and you don’t know why.

The room — if it can be called that — is nothing but metal. Long strips of light soak you in artificial but strangely sun-like light. Part of you wants to be comforted by it, but your surroundings are too unsettling. You have too many questions and no one to interrogate, until an ear-splitting crackle fills the air.

“Wake up, you ingrates! Bunch’a lazy ass——!! A single man drags you from one dimension to another, and you don’t even have the decency to wake up on time. Rude.”

The voice isn’t familiar, but there’s a cruel sense of humor behind it that makes you want to punch him in the face. 

What he says next only makes the feeling grow; “Ah, come on, don’t give me that look. You guys are going to be here for a while, so you might as well turn those frowns upside down. Welcome to Vault #32, subjects! Hope you’re ready for a little experimentation!”

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