you are unfairly attractive

Overtime (m)

@lilacxsehun requested: Jungkook/Reader inspired by the lyrics “He says I know what I want and I want it now I want you cause I’m Mr. Vain” in which Jungkook is the CEO of a big company you work for. 
Pairing: Jungkook | Reader
Genre: Fluff/Smut; CEO/Boss AU 
Word Count: 12,037
Author’s Note: I’ve always wanted to try my hand at a CEO AU so I was very excited to get this request. As I was writing this, I wasn’t entirely sure if Jungkook’s position should constitute him more as a CEO or a boss but eh, ignore the technicalities.

Summary: In which an awkward first encounter with your new boss gives Jeon Jungkook all the more reason to make your job an interesting experience.


To say you are late would be a complete and utter, tragic and ill-fitting, understatement. By the time you were supposed to be here at the building, you had just finished adding the last minute touches to your hair with the straightener, and by the time you were supposed to be doing that you needed to finish your makeup and by the time that was happening—!

Well, you get the idea.

Point is, you are running incredibly behind on your schedule—as if life just wanted to prove a point that no matter how much it seemed you could stitch your life together by managing to land an interview for a company actually relevant to your degree, something always had to go wrong. It just so happens that the bad day you constantly worried about just had to occur today. On the day of your interview.

You think it might be enough to get you to scream. First, the power just had to cut off the night before, disarming your alarm clock and resetting all the previous settings so instead of just beeping at some abnormal time it just didn’t ring at all. Given that you had also forgotten to plug your phone in for charging the night before as well, there was no way that could have been any source of an alternative method for waking up. All of that led up to the simple fact regarding the issue that you have a very difficult time waking up in the morning even with an alarm, so having none only elevated that struggle, bursting out of bed after frantically wondering about the time, and attempting to compress an hour’s worth of preparation into 5 minutes.

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Instincts (Taehyung X Reader Oneshot)

Pairings: Taehyung X Reader

Genre: Smut, bit of angst i guess

Word Count: 3670

Summary: While Jin seems oblivious to your attempts at flirting, someone else has definitely taken notice…

AN: To the fellow noona who requested this particular topic: why do you hurt me so? Please have some consideration for my poor nerves.
Seriously though, thank you so much for this request! This was such a nice topic and seeing as my patronus is Kim Taehyung I had no choice but to start with this one. I hope you like reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!


Originally posted by kimtahyung

“It’s in my room. You should come see it.”

Your eyes widen at Jin’s words, the knife in your hand frozen above the fruit on the chopping board on the counter before you.

Sitting on a stool across the counter from you, Jungkook pauses with a chip halfway to his mouth, his eyes darting to yours.

On the couch behind him, Jimin’s head whips around to look at you and out of the corner of your eye Taehyung emerges from the fridge, a bottle of water in one hand and an amused look on his face.

Was it finally happening? After months of flirting, was Jin finally making a move?

Your eyes shoot between Jungkook’s open-mouthed stare and Jimin’s look of disbelief. Behind you, you can feel Taeyhyung’s gaze boring a hole into the back of your head.

The three of them were the only ones who knew about your feelings for Jin.

Well, to be honest, the three of them were the only ones who were unashamed to openly speak to you about your feelings for Jin. To your embarrassment, everyone else seemed just as knowledgeable about your feelings – everyone, that is, except Jin.

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obsessiveshayme  asked:

I have a prompt! How about Barista Sid and super flirty customer Geno with SWid writing something cute on his cup?

This one…kinda got away from me, and 1. Sorry this took so long, and 2. I kinda veered from the prompt? A lot? And I think I was kinda projecting a little about how I feel about flirty strangers?  But I hope you enjoy it regardless. 

“It’s Tuesday,” Flower says, with the kind of resignation the day always evokes. He doesn’t have to explain further, Sid knows what he means. Tuesday means the Russians are coming. Well, Sid is pretty sure the quiet blonde guy is Scandinavian, but mostly, the noisy group that takes up, bare minimum, three tables at 412 Coffee is Russian. Holding court among them most days is Alex, whom Sid privately just labels “Loud Motherfucker.” 

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“Let’s Make a Deal”

Request: Hi (: I don’t know if you’re still getting requests but if you are I’d like to have one please! I’d like one about Draco Malfoy and a Gryffindor girl and he was always rude to her, but they had a small crush on each other and he asks her to go to the Yule Ball with him and she thinks he’s joking…You can finish it the way you like the best. Thank you so much.

⇢  In which a stubborn Slytherin Draco and Gryffindor Reader combination makes for an interesting Yule Ball-posal.

“It’s almost Christmas.”

As the Gryffindor common room filled with Seamus’ off-key rendition of “Santa Baby,” you quirked a brow. “Really? Couldn’t tell.”

“Have you found a date for the Ball yet?” questioned Fred, flashing you a grin.

You shrugged, making a face. “Not yet.”

“Well, my offer still stands–”

“Don’t even think about it, Weasley,” you deadpanned. “I’d rather not get on Angelina’s bad side.”

“Bad side? She doesn’t have a bad side,” he said with faux dreaminess, drifting toward the center of the room.

You rolled your eyes, but smiled despite yourself, deciding to ditch the noisy common room to study for exams. While the roaring fireplace and bustling Gryffindors indeed made for a cozy setting, the constant chatter made it hard to focus.

As you made your way to your usual table in the library, you passed Viktor Krum and Hermione Granger, smiling to yourself as you heard Hermione’s endless prattle.

“Revolting, aren’t they?”

You inwardly groaned at the all too familiar voice. “You’re one to talk,” you retorted, eyeing Malfoy. “I think it’s sweet; Hermione showing the world you don’t need to be outgoing and gregarious to catch the attention of a handsome Quidditch star.”

“I wouldn’t take that to heart,” he drawled. “Not even Longbottom would go to the Yule Ball with the likes of you.”

“Well, seeing as Neville is twice the gentleman you’ll ever be,” you paused, pursing your lips, “it does seem unlikely I’d manage to score someone as stellar as he is.”

Draco scoffed, cocking his head. “Longbottom? A gentleman? He lacks the physical capability to open the door for himself, let alone open it for another person.”

You placed your hand over your forehead, your thumb rubbing your temple. “If the only reason you’re talking to me is to insult me and my friends, just leave.”

Draco’s lips thinned, gauging his options. To your surprise, he relented. “Fine.”

“Not so arrogant without your two cronies?” you pushed.

He paused. You silently cursed yourself.

He would have left if you hadn’t opened your mouth. You knew that. But you couldn’t help yourself. As much as you hated to admit it, you enjoyed his annoying presence.

The side of Draco’s lip quirked upward as he turned toward you. “I just thought I’d prove to you how much of a gentleman I am.”

Without so much as another glance, he left the library with a slight smirk, leaving you to fight the stupid grin off your face.

+ + +

It was Day 2 of your revision and you made your way to the library, yet again. You waved as you passed Hermione, Krum-less. This time, you saw a pale blonde at your usual table.

“You again.” You pulled out a chair and rested your head in front of his.

Draco lifted his gaze. “You do know it’s impolite to bother someone while they are revising, yes?” Still, he didn’t tell you to leave.

“I agree. Someone should have said that to the twat who was bothering me yesterday.”

He scoffed, but there was an amused glint playing in his eyes. He averted his attention back to his textbook. Following his lead, you opened up your copy of Magical Drafts and Potions. His head stayed down, gazing at his book, but painfully aware of your company. Unmoving, you, too, stared down at your book.

The tension built and it became a game. As the colored uniforms passed through the library, who would move away first, not wanting to be seen with a member of the opposing house? No one moved.

Moments of determined silence passed before Draco glanced your way. “Your lips purse when you’re focused, did you know?”

Quirking an eyebrow, you attempted to retract your lips without looking like an idiot. “Actually, no. I wasn’t aware. But, thank you, for forever making me self-conscious about it now.”

“No. It’s cute,” said Draco.

Your eyes widened in response, then, clearing your throat, you murmured, “If you’re trying to make me leave first by throwing up…tempting, but it won’t work.”

“Unless you plan on sleeping here, get up. Because I definitely won’t give in.”

“Oh please, I bet I could last the whole night here, easily.”

Draco’s upper lip curled up and you couldn’t help thinking you’ve made a mistake. “Prove it.”

Well, shit. “Pardon?”

“If you’re so confident, let’s make a deal,” he said.

Instead of denying, curiosity got the better of you. “What deal?”

“If you don’t follow your word to stay at the library all night, then you have to go to the Yule Ball as my date.”

“Excuse me?” You were incredulous. “The library closes at eight! Madam Pince will throw me out herself, if she has to.”

“Should’ve thought of that before you ran your big mouth.”

You glared. “Let’s say I somehow manage to stay here all night. What do I get?”

“The satisfaction of knowing you stayed true to your word.”

“That is stupid.”

Draco egged you on. “Is this a common Gryffindor thing? Boasting with nothing to back your claims up?”

“Shut up, Malfoy. Gryffindors stay true to their words, unlike you slimy Slytherins.”

He simply smirked. “Prove it.

“Fine. The deal is on. If I lose, I’ll accompany you to the Ball.” He opened his mouth, looking triumphant. “But,” you continued, “if I win, you have to wear a Gryffindor pin up until Christmas Eve.”

“Unlikely,” he leered, but held out his hand.

You shook it.

Without another word, Draco gathered his books and walked away.

“Wait–you don’t have to stay?”

“The deal was only about you staying, love,” he called. “The library officially closes at eight, yes? I’ll see you outside at eight ‘o one.”

“Unlikely,” you shot.

Alone, you noticed the library had cleared significantly. Even Hermione was gone. It was a minute until eight and your spine stiffened as you sensed Madam Pince stalking the grounds.

You groaned, “That damned Malfoy.”

After Madam Pince threatened to hex you and give you a month’s detention, you begrudgingly made your way out of the library.

Unsurprised, you saw Malfoy waiting. When he saw you, his mouth curved into an unfairly attractive smirk. “Eight ‘o six. You lasted five minutes longer than I thought. Congratulations.”

“Get stuffed, Malfoy.”

He was unphased. “That’s no way to treat your future Yule Ball date.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why me, anyway?”

“Gryffindor or not, you’re the only girl beautiful enough to dance with me.”

Despite your intentions, you blushed. “Whatever, Draco,” you mumbled, heading toward the Gryffindor Tower.

Draco was one step behind you. Then he was walking next to you. You turned your head, raising an eyebrow at him. He raised one back. “Yes? I’m only making sure Madam Pince doesn’t change her mind and come after you.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” He paused. “The only times I lie to you is when I say you’re anything but beautiful.”

By now, you guys made it up to the tower.

“A deal is a deal. I’m already your date. No need for further flattery.”

Draco smiled, shaking his head. “It’s not flattery, just the truth.”

You stood in awkward silence for a while. “Well…Goodnight. Thanks for walking me. I guess.”

“You’re welcome.” As Draco laughed and bade you goodnight, you smiled.

Maybe being Draco’s date to the Yule Ball wouldn’t be such a dreadful event.

This is terrible. This is awkwardly short for me. Draco is so out of character. I’m just on my period and I wanted to write something cute and adorable and this reminded me of a cute past fling(?) aND I JUST WANT TO CRY. As I reread, I realized how poorly written and rushed the beginning and end are. My apologies. This was basically to get over a writer’s block.

P.S. Happy (almost) Thanksgiving to my fellow Americans!

MASTERLIST – mobile / computer



Name’s Quill. Peter Quill. (Star-Lord x Reader)

As requested by anon: It would be super-duper awesome if you could write a peter quill insert where you kick some guys ass at a bar and then peters reaction to that.

You’d been fired, dumped, and knocked into a puddle of mud over the course of one day, and for that reason, you figured you deserved a very strong drink. You weren’t looking to get drunk, as all that would achieve is making you prone to more misfortunes, you just wanted something that burned your throat on the way down but left you with that nice, hazy feeling of relaxation that only alcohol could obtain. It was the only logical way to follow up such a shitty chain of events.  

The bar you selected was new in town, and probably more expensive than you could afford seeing as you were newly unemployed, but nonetheless, you were here and you had an order of fries coming.

As you sipped your drink, you winced a little. It certainly gave you that burning feeling you’d wanted, but maybe a little too much.

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Stop and Stare - Mikey Pearce Imagine

Summary: Most of your childhood had been spent at the Maynard’s house, and most of your adult life was spent at their apartment. One interaction with a friend of theirs makes you appreciate their influence in your life.

Requested: yes!

Word Count: 2077

Trigger Warnings: none

Author’s Note: I’ve never written about Mikey before, and hadn’t ever really considered it, but I absolutely fell in love with this request and had to write it! Even though i’m operating on about an hours sleep in the past thirty six hours, I am determined to continue posting one story a day. As per usual, please send your feedback/criticisms/requests towards me. Update - I actually fell asleep writing this.

Originally posted by iheartmyyoutubers

“Conor Paul Maynard, don’t you dare!” you shrieked as you backed away from your oldest friend carefully, eyeing the flour and eggs in his hands with clear distrust in your eyes. You did not trust that boy as far as you could throw him.

“Don’t do what, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N?” he snickered as he approached you, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Your eyes flickered from his flour-covered hands to your brand new shirt and squeaked uncomfortably, “Come on! All I want is a hug!” he cackled as he lunged towards you, his laughter only growing as you turned and ran as fast as you could towards Jack’s room.

You had been friends with Conor and Jack Maynard for as long as you could remember, having been in the same year as Jack in school and bonding with him over funny videos on YouTube when you were both in year nine, now nearly ten years later, you couldn’t imagine your life without them, or the friends that they’d picked up along the way.

You could hear Conor closing in behind you and squealed frantically as you bolted down the hallway to Jack’s room, sighing in relief as it came into view. Conor’s laughter could be heard down the hall behind you as you basically ripped open the bedroom door and all but threw yourself into his room.

Letting out a breath of relief, you slid down the back of his door, hands clutching your chest from where your heart was currently thumping against your rib cage erratically. Hearing the sound of someone clearing their throat obnoxiously, you looked up from your spot on the floor to see Jack and Josh looking at you suspiciously, next to them was a guy who reminded you oddly of Michael Buble.

Offering them an innocent smile, you let out an awkward giggle, “Oh um, hi guys, what’s happening?” you asked in what you hoped was an adorable manner. You could feel the heat of a blush crawling up your neck as all three boys looked at you as though you had three heads.

“What are you doing on my floor?” Jack asked abruptly, his hand already reaching down to pull you up off the floor, “I didn’t even know you were back from Brighton,” he commented as he helped you up. You took his hand with a small and bashful smile, hopping to your feet and smoothing out the creases in your jeans.

“Got back this morning, and then Conor tried to ambush me into baking with him,” You pointed out as you looked up at him before your eyes flitted over to the other two boys. “See you haven’t gotten a haircut yet, Joshua,” you quipped at the ginger boy, raising a single eyebrow at him as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“And deny you the pleasure of cutting my hair? I would never, Y/N!” he smirked, placing a hand over his heart jokingly. “Besides, I don’t want to put you out of a job, god knows how much you love cutting our hair,” he snickered, making you roll your eyes dramatically.

“Oh yeah, Josh, nothing brings me greater joy than having to stand on your toilet in order to cut your hair,” You huffed exaggeratedly before tugging him into a quick hug. “How’s that girl of yours? You gonna introduce us anytime soon?” you asked in a more serious tone of voice.

“And give the Maynard’s the opportunity to turn her off? Not bloody likely!” he snorting jokingly, making Jack squawk indignantly and shove Josh’s shoulder, muttering about how girls adored him and his charm.

Letting out a small laugh at the two roommates, you turned to the unknown boy and offered your hand to him shyly, “I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself, “You must be Mikey,” you guessed, knowing that he was the only one of Jack and Conor’s close friends that you hadn’t met yet.

“Uh yeah that’s um,” he stammered adorably before taking a deep breath and grinning, “What tipped you off?” he asked and you felt yourself about ready to melt from the adorableness of it all.

“The leather,” you giggled, gesturing to his leather jacket, which admittedly made you want to melt even more – you were a sucker for a boy in a leather jacket. “Jack and Conor are always going on about you and your leather,” you explained shyly, your fingers tugging at the loops of her jeans awkwardly.

You were no stranger to beautiful boys, being friends with Jack and Conor had ensured that; all of their friends that you had met were lovely people with hilarious personalities who were unfairly attractive. Some of your friends and family members, namely your mother, constantly questioned why you hadn’t ever tried to get with either of the boys, and your answer was always the same – because it’d be gross.

And that was the truth; you didn’t want to date either one of the Maynard’s, they were like annoying brothers to you and to date either of them would be super gross. You didn’t even want to date any of their friends, despite your co-workers’ commentary that it would undoubtedly advance your career. As attractive as they were, though, you would never use someone like that, they just weren’t your type.

Mikey though, you hadn’t reacted to a boy like this in a long time. You didn’t know whether it was his easy laughter or the twinkle in his eyes, but something about him calmed you. You couldn’t help but to smile up at him shyly as you both talked about the boys and how annoying they both were. It was obvious that he was nervous and flustered, but that only made him even more attractive to you

Your attention was disrupted when Conor came crashing through the door and lunged at you, catching you off guard and hauling you over his shoulder. “Aha! Got you!” he cackled, wiping his hands on your black jeans as he spun around with you slung over his shoulder, your body bouncing around like a rag doll in his arms.

“Conor!” you groaned, squirming in his grip as he spun all over the place, “You’re going to make me sick!” you whined, already feeling slightly nauseous from being semi-upside down over his bony shoulder. “And Jack will kill me if I vomit all over his floor,” you added, sighing in relief when you ended up feet first on the floor again.

It was at that moment that you had the very harsh realisation that you were supposed to be picking up your niece for lunch in fifteen minutes, on the opposite side of the city. And she would not be impressed if you were late, the little priss that she was.

“Shit! I’m meant to be picking up Y/N/N in ten minutes!” you squealed as you tore out of Jack’s room, picking up your stuff from the couch and shrugging on your coat. “Conor, call me after your date tonight!” you called over your shoulder while shoving your feet into your shoes. You couldn’t believe you had been in that room, in that conversation with Mikey for so long.

“Alright, love you!” your best friend’s voice called back, alongside Jack’s and Josh’s, making you smile. You were blessed when you thought about it, and you wouldn’t have sacrificed it for the world.

“Not as much as I love Jack,” you shouted, giggling loudly at the argument that broke out between the Maynard’s over which one you loved more at that moment in time. You rolled your eyes at them both as you let yourself out, a small smile on your face as you thought of the happiness that a simple morning cuppa could bring.

It was much later that evening, after you had returned home from meeting with your niece and sister, and were busy watching Captain America for the billionth time in a row, that a sharp knock at your door interrupted you. Looking down at your ripped leggings and an oversized sweater, you realised you probably weren’t suitable to have company, but seeing as it was most likely Conor with a six pack of beer and Chinese food, you got up to let him in.

Turns out you should have changed.

To say that you were surprised to see Mikey there and not your best friend would have been a gross understatement, and you were sure that was evident in your tone of voice. “Mikey!” you exclaimed upon seeing him on the other side of your door, “This certainly is a surprise,” you commented, feeling more than flustered at the sudden appearance, “Do you want to come in?” you asked him shyly.

“No, no, it’s fine I just um, well you see, uh I didn’t have your number, otherwise I would have called, and then Jack blurted out that you lived at the end of the hall and I wasn’t sure if you would be busy with Conor but then he sent Jack a snap chat of the girl he’s with so I figured I’d just stop by –“ he rambled before shaking his head quickly, seeming to realise that he was waffling. You doubted he realised how cute it was, though.

“And then today, I kind of thought you and Conor were a thing and it was shattering because you’re so beautiful and all the pretty girls love Conor but then you and Jack were close too and I didn’t know what to think and how could I have lost my chance so quickly,” he rambled out, his face growing redder and redder with each passing second.

“Mikey,” You interrupted him, a small and shy yet fond smile on your face as you looked up at him. “First of all, I’d never date Conor or Jack; Conor is basically my brother and Jack is too much like my actual brother, and he’s obsessed with his reflection,” you giggled softly, “Secondly, Do you want to grab lunch sometime or like a cup of coffee or something?” you asked him shyly, whether it was a date or not, you felt the inherent need to spend more time with it, and he did seem to be quite interested in you. You just hoped that you weren’t misinterpreting the situation.

“Like a date?” he blurted out, his cheeks turning the most wonderful scarlet colour at your invitation, the amazed grin on his face making you want to melt into a puddle.

“Yeah, like a date, unless you’d rather just be friends, which is fine too, I just thought that you might want it to be a date since you are standing at my front door with no shoes on,” you giggled softly, leaning against the half-open door as you looked up at him.

“Um yes, I’d like that a lot, are you free on Thursday?” he asked, seeming to gain a bit of his confidence back as you watched his back straighten up a bit and his chest puff out. You also noted how broad his shoulders were … and how great your legs would look slung over them. You blushed deeply at that thought, before realising that you hadn’t answered him. And fucking hell, if that smirk on his face wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

“Thursday would be perfect,” you smiled shyly, sure that if the open door hadn’t been there then you would have been on the floor in a puddle of your own tears and giddiness.

Grinning, he ducked forward and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, causing that area of your face to burn bright, “See you on Thursday,” he smirked again before disappearing down the hall again.

You closed the door with a happy sigh, sliding down the back of it and wrapping your arms around your knees tightly as the warm feeling in your chest spread over your entire body. You let out a loud laugh as you heard the faint sounds of Mikey yelling, “She said yes!” in The Maynard’s apartment a few doors down. Something about him gave you hope that things would be good, that maybe your non-existent love life was about to improve.

Your laugh only deepened as you then heard the sound of heavy footsteps thundering down the hall and the sound of someone banging on your door frantically.

“Whattaya mean you’d never date me?! I’m fucking handsome!”  

Thank you so much for all the requests and feedback/responses to Shape of You, it’s been so great, I currently have about four requests to do, of which 3 are about Jack, 2 are about Joe and 1 is about Conor, so if you have any Josh/Oli/Mikey/Caspar one’s then send them in!

p.s Oli is actually my favourite of all of them

↠plain black coffee?

genre: barista! au; fluff/romance; humor

word count: 2.5k 

authors note: well i wasn’t expecting this to be this long but here you go 

  • college can be tiring
  • and morning are not fun
  • and sometimes you regret not living on campus
  • because when you have a 9am lecture you really wish you’d chosen to live much closer where you don’t have to wake up as early
  • or alternatively you didn’t have to take 9am lectures
  • but when you were joining you found a nice apartment with two bedrooms going surprisingly cheap
  • and you kinda wanted to live off campus because you feel it’ll give you more independence
  • so you and bestfriend! Joshua decided to move in to this apartment
  • which you later realise is going so cheap because of the dodgy heating, on and off hot water and the crappy internet connection
  • but it’s kind of fun because you and Joshua have been friends since you were tiny and it always seemed like a great idea to live together
  • but anyway these 9am lectures are the bane of your existence
  • and every day Joshua would offer you coffee before you leave
  • because apparently this goddamn perfect child does not have a problem waking up early

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Tags: @elenawrit, @black-widow-fangirl, @aya-fay, @socktrollqueen, @nightlovechild (Pretty sure this is everyone. If I missed you feel free to come yell at me)

Title: Black Marks Mean Nothing (Part 2)

Summary: In a society where soul mates mean everything, what are you supposed to do when the one you’re apparently made for doesn’t want you?

Pairing: Percival Graves x Reader

Warnings: Again, only language

Originally posted by newtsobscuro

You avoid going back to the Godforsaken hellhole known as Central Park for as long as possible. Just on the off chance he (whatever his name even is) will be back. Your soulmate. Yeah right. You have half a mind to find God’s phone number and call Him up to demand a refund.

Yeah, umm, this one’s broken? He hates me and I hate him? I don’t think that’s how this is supposed to work. Plus my Mark is black. Yeah, black. Oh so you don’t do refunds? Or exchanges? I’m stuck with him? Great. Thank you. No, there’s no sarcasm in that at all. Have a good day.

Your mind flashes back to the list still in your coat pocket. A dog seems like a better idea every day. Maybe then you’ll stop having imaginary conversations with God and imaginary fights with the Bastard of Central Park. That’s his official title anyway. Jerk, dick, and supreme stupid head are also acceptable names. Part of you wonders what he calls you. Probably nothing if the words on your wrist are any indication.

No, not you.

What an asshole.

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anonymous asked:

You just seem like the most incredible person ever. You're really funny and creative, your song writing skills are gold, your singing voice is beautiful, your cosplays are on point, you're really nice to people, and your blog has some quality memes. (Plus you're unfairly attractive.)

Thank you so much!!! That really means a lot to me, and especially right now, because I’ve been really down in the dumps for a while. Thank you <3

(kajsefhijuosighskgu wHAT??!??!??!??!?!!)

anonymous asked:

♛ - favorite hair color? ✿ - fave kind of clothing? ღ - mottos?

♛ - favorite hair color?
I really love red hair both on other people and on myself. Blond is nice, too.

✿ - fave kind of clothing?
V-necked shirts are unfairly attractive on men, which is why you’ll find my closet is 80% made of v-necked shirts. Sure, I don’t pull them off as well as most guys do but ehh, doesn’t stop me from trying and loving them. Also, the deeper the v-neck, the better. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

ღ - mottos?
Hmm, I don’t really have any mottos to live by, but I kind of like Commander Shepard’s quote ”I won’t let fear compromise who I am.”

Libra Female's Experiences~

ARIES: I’ve met about two Aries girls and I’ve had a love-hate relationship with both. One was really manipulative and the other was whiny and couldn’t take any kind of criticism. But they were very fun and I enjoyed the time I spent with them. I’ve known one or two Aries guys and they definitely have a bit more of a temper. They’re usually decent at keeping it capped, especially as they get older but once they’re angry they are pissed off. In general though you guys seem like decent people, very fun to party with. You remind me of fireworks.

TAURUS: The only Taurus I know is a guy I was in love with for years and he was kind of the epitome of all the worst parts of a Taurus. Selfish, a little lazy, but unbelievably charming. He could make you feel like you were the only other person in the entire universe when he talked to you. He knew it as well and he used that to his advantage to get what he wanted. You remind me of chocolate.

GEMINI: You people are fantastic for bantering. I could talk to you for hours about anything and it would be interesting. You seem to have an opinion on anything and are always up to debate. I can be slightly judgy about how you change to better suit whoever it is you’re talking to, as that can seem a little fake to me, but I also admire and appreciate it. For whatever reason you remind me of wine?

CANCER: Can you say over-protective? All the Cancers I’ve met are fiercely loyal to their family and I like how in touch you can be with your emotions. The girls tend to be a little less aggressive than the guys, and a lot mopier. The guys are actually pretty serious. You can be a little whiny, but it comes with some great advice as well. You give off a strong Big Brother/Mama Bear vibe. You remind me of Melanie Martinez. 

LEO: Very bright, attractive people. Idk you draw me a moth to flame. The girls tend to be kind of bitchy, but that’s mostly false-bravado to cover up their own insecurities. (Not that the guys aren’t guilty of this too.) Most relationships I’ve had with female Leos were great while they lasted and then crashed and burned. I am hopelessly attracted to you, more so the males than the females. The guys tend to be very suave and overly-confident in a way that I find unfairly attractive. Mostly because you can be very immature douchebags. But the mature ones goddamn. Charming, great conversationalists. You remind me of diamonds.

VIRGO: Great people, I admire your hardworking personality and I strive to be as perfect as some of you are. But then again might wanna take it down a notch. Sadly perfection is an illusion and if you’re all work and no play you’re gonna burn yourselves out. Boys and girls are pretty similar. You’re all very grounded and somehow always morally upstanding? Idk, keep doing what you’re doing. You remind me of coffee.

LIBRA: It’s a toss up on whether I’m going to like another Libra. Either I see too much of what I hate about myself in them and despise them, or we get on great. The girls seem to have more of an IDGAF attitude when it comes to rocking the boat and are very loud, and the guys tend to be quieter and more considerate. Confident Libras are great to hang out with, good for parties or road trips. You remind me of mimosas. 

SCORPIO: See, we get along, we just can sometimes hate practically everything about each other. 0-100 real freaking quick with you guys. It’s like you either don’t respond at all or you respond with every bit of ferocity and emotion you’re capable of. I don’t know why more people don’t say this but Scorpios are stubborn as all hell. Whenever we’re discussing something you tend to just repeat your opinion over and over again because there’s no way you can be wrong. You do have a sort of magnetism that draws me to you though, and when we agree on things we get on like a house on fire. Very sarcastic people. You remind me of black eyeliner.

SAGITTARIUS: There’s a pretty big line between the guys and girls here. Guys tend to annoy the ever-living shit out of me, you always have to comment on the things I do and to an extent it’s humorous but doing it over and over again makes me want to punch you in the face. I like them though, we do have really great conversations and I find pretty much every Sagittarius I meet fascinating. The girls are a little more chill, but they still have their moments. They’re more introverted than the guys, and really enjoy being able to do their own thing. Stubborn in a similar way to Scorpios, but you guys are always up to properly debate and we change each other opinions all the time. Both boys and girls are really sarcastic. And stop being so self-depreciating! You’re awesome! You remind me of vintage cars.

CAPRICORN: I’ve only met girl Capricorns, so I can’t speak for the guys, but the girls. Either they like you or they don’t, and if they don’t they’re stone-cold bitches and just constantly ignore you and attempt to avoid you like the plague. Which would be fine but they never come outright and say “I don’t like you” which is annoying and causes them to send mixed messages that drive me up the wall. Idk, I don’t have much to say on you guys. I’m sure I’ve just met a few bad Caps, and the guys might be great idk. You remind me of mint.

AQUARIUS: WHY. SO. SHY. It takes forever to break them out of their shell but once you do they’re great people. Very opinionated. If they’re naturally extroverted they’re somehow friends with everyone? You are really emotionally distant and I dislike not being able to tell how you’re feeling. If you could be a little more expressive that would be fantastic, thank you. You remind me of fresh paper.

PISCES: You are verbally and emotionally passive-aggressive, and physically aggressive. Like you’ll get drunk and launch yourself into a bar fight no problem but you’re more inclined to leave a million sticky notes by the sink then tell your roommate to do the dishes. You’re very artistic, and caring. Either you have a very short fuse or a very long one. Your passive-aggressiveness can annoy the hell out of me though, mostly because I’d much prefer you come right out and talk about an issue so we can fix it together. Great friends, very loyal and would do anything for you. You guys are also really self-depreciating? Stop caring about whether you’re better or worse than someone, or have more or less and be thankful for what you do have. You remind me of watercolours.   

bellarke + “you saw your ex coming your way with their new significant other and freaked out. you grabbed my hand, whispered a quick plea to let you propose to me in front of them. i agreed because you’re cute” AU for nathenmiller because she reblogged the post i saw this prompt on and because i love modern!au’s. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Clarke Griffin is a perfectly normal person. She is not the type of person to have Unusual Things happen to her, and is not the type of person who walks in to her friends’ apartments saying you’re never going to believe what happened today like Jasper is fond of doing.

She goes out of her way to avoid situations like that, as a matter of fact, because she is her mother’s daughter. She is a girl who was raised in the environment of society functions and fancy dinners, and because of that, she hates when she’s made into a spectacle.

It’s Sunday, and she’s on her way to meet her best friend for coffee (and minding her own business, thank you very much) when she first spots him. 

 It’s not like she’s going out of her way to stare at him, but he’s right in front of her and he’s tall and has freckles – 

 Anyway, she’s not staring. She’s not. 

Keep reading


Someone He Loves | Liam Dunbar Imagine

request ; Can you do an imagine where the reader (who happens to look like Camila Cabello) is Stiles’ little sister who is Liam’s age and she’s attacked by Theo in his wolf form. The reader is put into the hospital and the Dread Doctors & Theo make a visit to her. Liam finds out about her being attacked and he’s upset since she doesn’t know about the supernatural? Please and thank you! 

word count ; 1764

warnings ; minor swearing (like two words), violent thoughts (lookin at you mr raeken), blood.

a/n ; changed it up just a little, left out the camila part because i couldn’t figure out how to casually throw that in there lmfao. theo wasn’t in his wolf form either, and the dread doctors didn’t come after her in the hospital because at first i really did try to make it work but i feel like the way i wrote it worked out well, too. hope you enjoy it anyway, love. also, i’m sorry i got this up a bit late, i knew i was going to write this but i hadn’t gotten in the mood until a little while ago. and i probably went overboard with this but i like how it turned out, so. oh well.

So maybe you weren’t supposed to out this late, that was definitely probable. But you weren’t a child anymore, you were sixteen, and Stiles was going to have accept that fact that you actually had friends other than Scott. You had snuck out, Stiles was pissed, and you were determinedly walking home even though Stiles had told you that he was coming to pick you up.

A boy quickly fell into step next to you, a charming grin displayed on his face as he offered to walk you home, seeing as it was midnight and he, quote, “wanted to make sure the pretty girl got in alright.” You accepted, because he was a cute boy and you were a naive girl who didn’t know that this was Theo Raeken, and he wasn’t just talking to you to be nice. Then again, you were still in the dark about the entire supernatural existence, so it wasn’t all that unexpected for Theo to go after the girl with the most reason to trust him. 

“You’re Y/N Stilinski, right?” He asked, already knowing the answer to that question before you smiled at him and replied. He sent you another grin back, resting the urge to knock you out and kill you right there. But not yet. He wanted to make sure it tore Stiles Stilinski apart from the inside out to find your pretty little body bleeding and broken, not to mention make sure that it caused some sort of pain to each of member of the McCall pack.

“Uh, yeah, and I believe you’re Theo Raeken, though I’m not quite sure since Stiles described you as a sneaky bastard who’s unfairly attractive, so…” You laughed, running a hand through your hair and subconsciously reminding yourself to not start rambling like an idiot in front of the cute boy.

Bitch. “I can’t tell if I’m supposed to be insulted or flattered, so I’m just going to ignore that,” Theo chuckled, feeling another urge to kill you pass over him. ”So, you and your brother, are you close?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, I’d say we’re pretty close. Why?” 

“Oh, nothing, I just know that sometimes siblings with even minor age gaps don’t share that much of a bond, I was curious,” Theo recited easily, flashing you another reassuring smile. “What about his friends? Are you close with them?”

You nodded again, smiling brightly as you answered. “Oh, yeah, definitely! I’ve known Scott my whole life, he’s just another older brother. Lydia is basically my older sister, too, and there was another girl, Allison, and she was a sister to me as well. Kira and Malia are always really nice to me, and Liam is sort of complicated. We’re kind of dating but…I don’t even know, really.” You looked over at Theo, about to ask him if he had met anyone in town yet, but his entire demeanor had changed. His lighthearted grin was now a smirk, his eyes no longer friendly, just cold and calculating. 

“Perfect,” he said softly, twisting a strand of your hair around his finger. Before you could ask what he was doing, his eyes were glowing gold, and he wasn’t just some creepy kid. He was terrifying, claws and fangs extended as he slammed your head against the concrete, knocking you out right there on the pavement. It might have been enough to kill you, but he wasn’t about to check. This would be enough to hurt them all. He leaned down toward you, whispering in your ear, “Who knows? Maybe you’ll even live long enough for your stupid older brother to explain why you shouldn’t go walking around in the dark.”

“Y/N was supposed to wait for me, Scott! Dammit!” Stiles was speeding down another road, Scott doing his best to calm his friend down, Liam looking terrified in the back seat. He sat pale and rigid, jaw clenched as he glared out the window, hoping to catch even a glimpse of you. To make sure you were alright. Stiles slammed his hand on the steering wheel, nearly spinning the rundown jeep into the side of a house. Scott grabbed the steering wheel back before Stiles could do any real damage, but he had never seen his best friend like this before, so frantic. 

“Stiles, I promise we’ll find her, but we can’t do that if we’re all in the hospital. Please, just slow down,” Scott cast a glance at Liam in the mirror, seeing his anxious expression and hearing his racing heartbeat. “Liam looks like he’s going to be sick.” 

It wasn’t the car ride that was making Liam want to throw up, it was the prospect of finding you. He was so scared that when they finally got to you, it’d be too late. His hands were shaking when he went to brush away the tears that were threatening to pour down his cheeks. His head snapped up suddenly, and he inhaled sharply, met with the tangy smell of…

“Blood,” Scott muttered, eyes searching the street in front of them. “I smell blood. Pull up here. Now.” Stiles obeyed immediately, parking in the first available spot. Liam was the first to tumble out of the car, taking off in the direction of the scent. 

He screeched to a stop when he saw, splayed out on the ground and a pool of blood around your head. He dropped to his knees, listening for a heartbeat. It was weak, really weak, but it was there. He wasn’t sure for how long. He took you in his arms, shutting his eyes and trying to absorb your pain. 

There wasn’t anything to absorb. If you weren’t in pain, did that mean…

His heart lurched, and he squeezed his eyes shut, but even that couldn’t stop the steady flow of tears that were making their way down his face. “Oh, God. Oh god, oh god, oh god,” he murmured, stroking your face. He stood up, balancing you in his arms and carrying you toward Stiles’ jeep at an alarming speed. Scott and Stiles were waiting there, and Stiles looked like he wanted to die right there when he saw the state you were in. “We-we have to get her to the hospital, Scott, please, help me lift her into the car -” Sensing Liam’s oncoming hysteria, the boys lifted the girl into the backseat, Liam cradling her head in his lap, unaware of the dark blood now staining his pants from just holding her. 

Stiles probably broke about ten different laws that night, the way he was driving, but nobody cared. Liam was in the backseat watching the girl he loved bleed out, Scott was terrified that the girl he had come to think of his younger sister might die, and Stiles wanted to die himself, knowing that he had refused to arm you with the knowledge of the supernatural world that could’ve spared you. 

Seven hours later, Liam was standing in the hospital waiting room, nervously playing with his hands and shifting uncomfortably due to the pants that Stiles had supplied with him. They were two sizes too large. He hadn’t left the hospital since you were brought here.

Everyone refused to let him see you. Everyone. They said to give you another hour in surgery, because you could have a serious concussion, but all he wanted was to go in there and take away any sort of pain you were feeling, and hold your hand to ease the pain that he was feeling. The worst part was that you hadn’t even known about the supernatural. Maybe if he had told you like had wanted to in the first place, maybe if he hadn’t listened to Stiles, you would’ve been able to protect yourself better. Maybe Liam could’ve protected you better. But you hadn’t known. And he hated himself for being too scared of your brother to tell you.

Stiles exited your room, looking exhausted and thoroughly upset. He had tear tracks on his cheeks, and his eyes were bloodshot. He had been in there nearly five hours, probably not sleeping a bit since he got in there. He blinked at Liam, as if surprised that the kid was still there. The circles under Liam’s blue eyes were dark, and the poor kid looked like he hadn’t stopped crying, his eyes were still watery. He looked up at Stiles, pleading with his eyes. Let me see her. Please. Stiles nodded, pushing open her door and shutting it once Liam entered. 

Liam was by your side in a second, already lacing your fingers together and giving your hand a soft, supportive squeeze. He was content just sitting there, holding your hand like he had wanted to. He closed his eyes, and let himself drift off to sleep, his head falling onto his chest. 

You woke up a little while after that, and though the nurses insisted on directing Liam back into the waiting room, you had made sure they didn’t touch him. You wanted him near you. When everyone else had cleared out of your room, you woke him up. He jolted in his chair, eyes bright once he saw you awake and smiling weakly. 

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracked. He hugged you tightly, breathing deeply into your shoulder and almost breaking down again. You rubbed his back soothingly, knowing that he was too upset to speak. You weren’t even in pain anymore, but you knew he was. When he pulled away, he opened his mouth to apologize to you a thousand times over, but you interrupted him. 

“I don’t want to hear about how sorry you are. It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have done anything, Li,” you stroked his hair gently, cupping his cheek. He went to protest again, but you shook your head. “Stiles told me everything. And even if I had known before, the bastard would have found some way to get to me. I’m human, I can’t fight. So don’t blame yourself, alright?” 

He nodded, smiling at you softly before taking you in his arms again. He was still going to blame himself. He was still going to insist that it was his fault, that there was something he could’ve done to prevent this. Now, he was going to take every precaution out there to make sure you never got hurt this bad again. If that meant training you to fight, so be it. If that meant forcing Scott to give you the fight, then he’d do his best. Anything to keep you safe.

Anything to keep you alive.


Originally posted by natpekis

Based on Anonymous Prompt: I saw Civil War two weeks ago and I STILL CAN'TGET OVER THE FEELS. So now I have a request, if that’s okay with you? A oneshot for Bucky and a sweet, shy, nerdy reader. Reader likes Bucky a lot, she tends to be clumsier when he’s around, bumping things and tripping over nothing and stuff, that Buck took it upon himself to be near her so he can catch her everytime she falls..which of course flusters her more. She could be a researcher for Tony. Fluff please..Bucky deserves to be happy!

A/N: Ok, so I had my last piano recital this weekend, so I was a little panicky and unfocused, so I couldn’t really write.  But now I’m gonna try!  I’ve got my last week of film classes this week and then a couple easy weeks of academic classes and then graduation, so I’m gonna try and post once a day!  I didn’t have time to proof read this before posting, so I hope it’s decent!

Tagging @pleasecallmecaptain and @mattymattymerduck


“Shit,” you mutter under your breath.

“Sorry, what was that?” Tony smirks.

“Nothing,” you reply, eyes fixed on the file you’re reading.  Tony’s just informed you that your next project is upgrading the mechanical arm of one James Buchanan Barnes.  You’ve heard all about him, but you’d never seen him.  

Up until today when Tony handed you his file, complete with pictures of the unfairly attractive man.

“You mind telling me why you’re using some decidedly Captain-America-unapproved language?” Tony asks, tugging the file out of your hands.  You snatch it back and glare at him.

“This is…a difficult project,” you lie falteringly.  Tony shakes his head.

“(Y/N), we both know you can’t lie to save your life,” Tony admonishes and you sigh.

“How regular are these upgrades going to be?” you ask.

“The upgrades?” Tony says, checking the file.  “Probably every few months.  But he’ll check in with you at least once a week.”

“Great,” you huff.  “Thank you for turning my life into living hell.”

“Living hell?” Tony asks lightly.

“You happen to know he’s just my type,” you groan.  “Tell me you didn’t do this on purpose.”

“I didn’t do this on purpose,” Tony chuckles.

“You suck at lying too, Tony,” you retort, opening one of the cabinets behind you to grab some supplies.

“Hello?”  The two of you both look up to find the man in question standing in the doorway.  You blush a little bit and pray that he didn’t hear any bit of the conversation.

“Hi, my name’s (Y/N),” you stammer, crossing the room to shake his hand.

“Bucky,” he smiles.  His smile scrambles your brain into a pile of mush and you have to turn away from him before you’re able to respond.

“Right,” you say.  “Um, come over here and take a seat.”  You lead him to a stool right next to the counter.  Tony makes mocking kissing faces at you over his shoulder that you decide to ignore.

“So today, I’m just going to do a couple scans of your arm and make some other observations,” you say, grabbing a clipboard.  “Do you have any questions for me?”

“No,” Bucky says and you nod.  

“Great,” you say quietly.  “I’m just going to grab the scanner.”  You turn around to go get it and immediately collide with the cabinet door you had opened prior to Bucky’s arrival.  You’re down on the floor before you can even register what happened.

“Are you okay?” Bucky leaps off the stool and kneels in front of you.  You sit up slowly, rubbing the sore spot on your head.

“I’m great,” you mumble.  He offers you his hand and lifts you up.


“I still can’t believe it,” Tony teases.  “You fell for him.  Literally.”

“Don’t remind me,” you groan, inputting some data into your tablet as the two of you walk down the hall.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Tony grins evilly.  “I’ll never let you forget it.  I already had F.R.I.D.A.Y. save the footage from the cameras and-”

“Hey, (Y/N)!”  You hear Bucky’s voice and your head whips around, searching for him.  By turning around, you miss the three steps in front of you and tumble forward.  But this time, a hand reaches out, grabbing your shoulder and steadying you.  Bucky.  

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you say, jumping out of his grasp and beginning to pick up all your things that spilled out across the floor.  Tony stands beside you, doubled over, laughing.

Bucky’s instantly on the floor next to you, gathering up a stack of papers that slipped out of your grasp.  You take them gratefully, fighting the embarrassed flush that’s starting to creep onto your face.

“Thanks,” you say.  “I don’t know why I’ve been so clumsy lately.”

“I do,” Tony offers.  You turn to glare at him, which shuts him up right away.


You have a couple more falls before your next check-up with Bucky.  Tony witnesses all of them, and he makes sure to bring it up at every possible opportunity.  

After that, you stay in your lab as much as you can, avoiding any possible meetings with Bucky that could result in further mortification.

Which brings you to the day of his appointment, you standing on a ladder, reaching for some chemicals on a very high shelf.  They’re just out of your reach, and you’re on your tiptoes, fingers just brushing the bottles.

“Can I help you?”

The voice comes from right below you and startles you so much that you lose your footing.  Your hand bats the bottles, knocking a dozen of them over so that they break and mix with a hiss.  

You’re falling backward through empty space, your hands swinging wildly, trying to grab onto something but coming up with empty air.  

But then, you feel strong arms breaking your fall, wrapping themselves under your back and knees, catching you.  You look up to find yourself staring into Bucky’s concerned eyes.  You hear your breath hitch and you mentally curse yourself.

“Hi,” you say breathlessly.

“Hi,” he replies.  “This seems to be a habit of yours.  Falling.”  A dozen cheesy one-liners flash through your head, but you bite them back with a smile.

“Let’s get out of here,” you say quickly.  Bucky raises and eyebrow and you flush, realizing how that sounded.  “No, I…I just spilled a bunch of chemicals.  I don’t even know which ones.”  As if to prove your point, the mixture fizzles on the shelves above you.  

“Oh,” Bucky says and he makes a beeline for the exit.  You’re already out of the door before you realize he’s still carrying you.

“Bucky,” you say quietly.  “You can put me down now.”  You could almost swear you see a momentary flash of disappointment in his eyes before it’s replaced by a self-assured smile.

“That might be dangerous,” he smiles.  “Seeing as you have a tendency to trip at inopportune moments.  And we’re currently fleeing for our lives.”  You meet his eyes again and your mind goes blank.  All you can do is nod in response.

You hear what sounds dangerously close to an explosion behind you and your eyes widen.  

“Tony is going to kill me.”


“(Y/N), it’s clear that this has become a safety issue now.”

“Tony, I think that’s being a little melodramatic.”

“Is it?” Tony says, gesturing to the melted ruin of the lab.  “It seems to me that the only logical conclusion is that you need to tell Barnes about your little crush and this problem will go away.”

“I mean, I think the stronger logic would be to transfer another scientist onto this project,” you reply.  

“Barnes trusts you,” Tony says simply, a fact that you know you can’t argue with.  “And as your boss, I’m asking you to tell him you have feelings for him.”

“I’m gonna take that one up with HR,” you respond drily.  “I don’t think you can do that.”  You turn away from Tony and collide with someone’s chest.  All you can think as you fall down is NOT AGAIN.

An arm snakes out, wrapping itself around your waist and you find yourself pulled up against Bucky.  

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, doll,” he says with that charming grin of his and you shake your head.

“It’s not my fault,” you retort.

“What does that mean?”

“You’re decreasing my productivity.”  He cocks an eyebrow.

“How so?”

“Every time you come in here, all brooding and handsome and shit, I lose my train of thought and apparently I lose any sense of balance, because then I trip and fall and you have to come rescue me.  And occasionally destroy science labs in the process.”  You can feel the blush rising in your cheeks, again, and fight it off.  You definitely said more than you meant to, but you will not give him the satisfaction of flustering you.

“It’s not my fault you keep throwing yourself at me.”  You shake your head.

“I do not throw myself at you,” you deny.

“Well what do you call this then?” Bucky says, gesturing to your arrangement, you still wrapped in his arms.

“I call it another catastrophe averted,” you say, nimbly maneuvering yourself out of his arms.  “Thank you.”

You return to your work, fighting the urge to look up at Bucky.  Unbeknownst to you, Bucky and Tony are having a gesturing battle behind you, consisting of a lot of confused shrugging from Bucky and aggressive kissing faces from Tony.

“Um, (Y/N)?” Bucky asks and you look up.


“Do you maybe…”  Suddenly, all of Bucky’s funny one-liners fly out the window and he’s the flustered one, his cheeks reddening and him fumbling for words.  Something about that makes you feel bolder, more sure of yourself, and you reach for the words he’s searching for.


“Yes.”  You turn to Tony and roll your eyes.


“Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Malec Drabble Alphabet - S

S - Shadowhunter

Alec’s earliest memory was of rune studies. He could still remember his mother holding the Gray Book, her arms around him as she pointed out the rune of angelic power, the enkeli, explaining to him its importance to their kind. He remembered her handing him a stele, warning him about the powers of the runes, warning him to never underestimate the power of them. He must have been four years old then.

Being a shadowhunter is all Alec had ever known. He’d trained for it all his life, it was what, who, he was. It was quite literally in his blood. Like all nephilim before him, he would live and die by the shadowhunter creed. He was a protector, a warrior. And most of the time he was proud of that heritage. Yes, his race was flawed, arrogant, even barbaric at times… yet still, in his heart, Alec had faith. He had faith that the nephilim could rise above these faults.

Many of his people believed that shadowhunters were superior to all other races, even the mundanes they were sworn to protect. Hell, even Alec had fallen prey to that sort of thinking. But, the way he saw it, if he could change his ways, surely the rest were capable of it as well? Whether they wanted to change was another matter entirely. But Alec believed, he had to believe, that they were capable of that change. Otherwise, what meaning did his life have? He was nothing if he was not a shadowhunter.

Sometimes the weight of the word was crushing, the responsibility it came with almost unbearable. But Alec has always carried responsibility well, though his mother might disagree with that now. Still, all it took was one look at his siblings, his friends and loved ones, shadowhunters and downworlders alike, and he knew he would be willing to bear anything for them.

“You are a shadowhunter, Alec,” he recalls his mother saying, years ago, “it is not just what you are, it is who you are.”

And that was true, to a certain extent. A shadowhunter was who he was… but it was not all he was.

That particular lesson was taught to him by one Magnus Bane. Beautiful, witty Magnus who was wiser and better than most of Alec’s kind gave him credit for.

It happened one lazy Sunday morning; they were still in bed despite it almost being noon, something that nearly never happened with them. Alec relished in the peacefulness of it, taking the rare opportunity to just be drowsy and content. The summer heat permeated the bedroom as he lay shirtless on top of the covers. Magnus was curled up next to him like an oversized cat, limbs tangled carelessly with Alec’s, head pillowed on the taller man’s shoulder. Despite the extra heat the warlock was giving him, Alec didn’t push him away, simply happy to have him so close for no other reason than because he wanted it.

They spoke softly to each other, Magnus’ fingertips trailing lightly up and down Alec’s chest, until he began tracing the various runes and scars there. It was not the first time he did so; something about the marks seemed to fascinate the warlock. It was as if he thought they were something wondrous to behold. Alec supposed that in a way they were, but to a shadowhunter like him they were more tools, or weapons, than the art Magnus seemed to think they were. Soon his boyfriend was asking what they meant. He already knew of a few (he was centuries old, after all), but he was curious about the ones he didn’t or he wanted further explanation about the ones he did.

“What does this one mean?” Magnus asked, running his index finger over the sensitive skin of his neck, gesturing to what was probably the most noticeable rune on Alec’s body.

“Block and deflect,” Alec immediately replied, trying not to shiver under the warlock’s soft touch.

Magnus then moved his hand away from Alec’s neck, slowly sliding it down to his forearm, pointing to yet another rune, one that had was slowly fading to white. “And this?”

“Soundless. That one’s soundless.”

“Really? That didn’t seem to work last night.”

Alec blushed a bit, but managed to keep his voice dry. “Not exactly what it’s meant for, Magnus.”

“Right, of course, darling.” A quick peck was pressed to his cheek, though Magnus’ gaze remained mischievous, shining with poorly hidden amusement. But before Alec could say anything more, he had already moved on. The warlock’s hand was now covering one of the runes on his waist. This time Alec could not suppress his shiver, the touch electrifying despite its familiarity. Magnus smirked, perfectly aware of the effect he was having. “And what does this one mean?” he asked, painted nails scratching slightly as Alec’s bare skin, causing the younger man to jump a bit.


“Ah, of course. I quite like that one,” Magnus said with a wink.

“I know you do,” Alec muttered in reply, cheeks red. Still, he wore a smile at the comment, remembering the activities of the night before.

Magnus’ fingers were already on the move again, this time stopping by one of the younger man’s oldest (and most frequently used) runes, located on his side near his hipbone. “This is one is for healing, right?”

“Yes. An iratze.” Apart from the enteli, it was probably the one that held the most importance to shadowhunters.

The warlock nodded. “This one is my favorite,” he said decisively after a long moment, fingers still tracing over the elegant lines of the iratze (and becoming increasingly distracting).

“How come?” Alec asked, curious. He was surprised it wasn’t something more exotic; healing runes were rather commonplace.

But Magnus seemed serious, looking up at Alec steadily. “Because this is the one that keeps you intact, Alexander. I very much like seeing you safe in my arms at the end of each day.”

The younger man swallowed harshly, overcome by a flood of emotion. How can it be that I mean so much to someone like him? Knowing he’d struggle with the words, he didn’t even attempt a reply, instead turning his head to place a lingering kiss on Magnus’ temple. It seemed the right response, if the other man’s small, genuine smile was anything to go by. 

They settled back into comfortable silence, Magnus’ painted fingertips still tracing tantalizing circles on Alec’s skin.

“Does it bother you? Me being a shadowhunter?” Alec asked after a long while, the question coming out of nowhere. But he wanted to know. After all, Magnus had been alive for a long time; he more than anyone knew of the atrocities nephilim could commit. And he knew of how brutal and short their lives could be.

His boyfriend’s response was immediate. “Does it bother you that I’m a downworlder?”

“Of course not!”

“Then you have your answer,” Magnus said smartly, before lifting his hand to the younger man’s cheek, his thumb rubbing once over Alec’s bottom lip. His gentle touch made Alec lift his eyes to look at Magnus, which had been the other man’s goal. The warlock smiled before continuing. “And you may be a shadowhunter darling, but you are also my Alexander; an unfairly attractive, unfailingly generous and unequivocally good man. Don’t make yourself into less than you are… You, like everyone else in the world, cannot be summed up into a single word.”

Alec stared at Magnus, awestruck. 

I can’t believe someone like him chose someone like me, he couldn’t help but think again.

But he didn’t dwell on that thought, instead basking in the euphoria that came with knowing that this was the man he loved. And the one who loved him back. And he was right of course; Magnus was right. Alec was more than just one thing. Shadowhunter or not, he was a person, with many different facets. He supposed he just needed to be reminded of that sometimes. Thankfully he had the love of a certain warlock for that.

Feeling suddenly invigorated, Alec used the arm he had wrapped around Magnus’ shoulders to lever the other man on top of him, surging up to kiss him. The warlock, used to this sort of impulsiveness by now, responded immediately, stretching his body along Alec’s, his hands tangling in the younger man’s hair. This position, despite the fact they were both (mostly) clothed, was far more intimate than most, every inch of their bodies pressed close together. So much so that Alec almost couldn’t tell where he ended and Magnus began. Not that he minded that.

He wasn’t quite sure how long they stayed like that; part of him didn’t ever want move out of this position. But still, when the warlock began shifting down, trailing kisses over Alec’s bare chest, he couldn’t find it in him to complain. Especially when he felt Magnus’ lips trail a path to his iratze, burning there for a long moment, as if he was trying to convey something.

Luckily, Alec understood the message of that kiss immediately.

I love you too, Magnus, he thought, before proceeding to return the message in other ways.

All alphabet drabbles are tagged under malecalphabet

Special side note: this drabble is partially based of this request by a lovely anon. Hope you enjoy it!

anonymous asked:

So I saw this picture: bryscott(.)tumblr(.)com/post/130865047632 and immediately thought of you. Then I thought of either, Derek feeling a little bit saucy as he gets ready for a date with Stiles //or// Stiles watching Derek model his new underwear as part of a sexy times already-in-progress.

Anon, you’re killing me (nsfw image)

But also I read the end of your ask as “Derek models underwear” and had this perfect mental image of Stiles discovering pictures from old modeling jobs Derek did back in New York – maybe browsing online or even finding an old magazine in some box when Derek finally ships his New York things back to Beacon Hills – and obviously becoming completely obsessed with it. Tracking down more pictures, maybe going so far as to scrounge for back-issues of the magazine, in the hopes of getting more glimpses of Derek. (Because it’s just crazy, ok? It’s weird. How can you possibly discover that your surly, broody unfairly attractive semi-friend is a freaking softcore model and not obsessively search for all the possible evidence?)

But of course it’s Stiles, so there’s no way he’s going to be able to obsess quietly. And maybe he starts making little comments, things that make Derek squint but shake off, until one time Stiles is captured, and when Derek swoops in to rescue him it just slips out:

“I mean, I know you look a hell of a lot better tied up with ropes…” 

And Derek freezes because there’s only one time he’s ever been tied up with ropes (not like anyone actually trying to capture a werewolf would use that), and by the way Stiles is suddenly flushing, pupils blowing out before he looks away, he knows it too.

“I mean…” he starts. “Theoretically…”

But Derek’s leaning in slow, strong fingers wrapping around the rope still circling Stiles’ abdomen. Trailing his hand across in a slow torture until it’s pressed hot against Stiles’ belly.


When Stiles looks back up his eyes aren’t angry. They’re intrigued, almost teasing. He licks his lips.

Theoretically, I might’ve seen some pictures. A picture. And then other pictures. Of you in ropes. And other… things.”

Derek twists the rope a little, tugging, and Stiles’ next breath goes out right against Derek’s mouth. They hang there, a slow torture of not quite touching, while Derek’s lips take on a slow, smug curl.

“And you liked what you saw?”

Stiles laughs, feels his flush all over. He knows there’s no way to hide the lust in his scent, and he must be unbearably red right now. Goddamn werewolves.

“You know I did. Really need me to boost your ego, Mr. Model?”

Derek lets out a slow hum like he’s considering it, like he’s going to sit here and wait for Stiles to break and start babbling about Derek’s abs or his ass or the strange special affection Stiles has for that first picture of Derek in a loose sweater and jockstrap. (And how he hasn’t quite been able to convince himself that it’s about the fulfillment of too many locker room fantasies and not at all about the way Derek looks almost cozy, almost soft, wrapped up in that sweater.)

Derek’s breath huffs out hot and sweet and Stiles almost whines into it, almost leans in.

And then the rope’s going slack, Derek shifting back to his feet with that damn smug expression, his claw slowly retracting. Stiles sits there, the rope falling down in a heap around him, and he doesn’t think he’s ever hated being free so much in his life.

“Right,” he says, trying to cool his body back from sixty to zero. “Thanks. So, uh… I guess we should–” He breaks off because Derek’s eyes are roaming across him – long, lingering gazes, and it doesn’t help a bit.

And then Derek’s saying, slow and easy, “Take the rope.”

Stiles blinks at him, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, because what? And Derek’s brows lift, smug grin going decidedly wicked.

“A dedicated fan like you deserves a free show.” And then, turning away toward the exit. “And you look good tied up too.”

(Stiles nearly trips on the ropes in his scramble to gather them up and follow.)


“Louis is improbably, unfairly attractive. He’s two years older and has the most even tan Harry has ever seen, like he spent all his days in Doncaster playing footie in the sun shirtless, sweat shining between his shoulders blades. He’s absolutely hilarious, his voice sounds like a wind chime, and his smile is crooked and terrible and crinkles up around his eyes so spectacularly that Harry feels like he’s had the wind knocked out of him every time it happens. He uses his very small hands to carefully tuck his very soft fringe of very chestnut hair out of his eyes, and when he’s not yelling, he speaks very softly, and Harry, quite frankly, has never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his entire life.”

Born To Make You Happy by objectlesson (aka @xabjectlessonsx)