a day of silence is just stupid

“Prom was invented just to make girls starve so they can fit in a dress and compete over a stupid title.”

“Uh –” Derek blinks, eyes his sister dubiously, “I’m not a girl?”

Cora huffs. “Whatever.”

In the kitchen Laura bursts out laughing. “Don’t worry.” She yells. “Cora is just jealous she will have to wait five years to go to her own prom.”

“I’m not going!” Cora yells back. “Prom is stupid, I don’t even know why you’re going,” she tells Derek, “it’s not like you know how to have fun.”

Derek raises an eyebrow while Laura just laughs harder. “Oh my god.” Their older sister says. “I stay away for six months and Cora turns into a sassy queen.” She walks into the living room, pretends to wipe at her eyes. “I’m so proud.”

“You two are ridiculous.” Derek says, turning around. “And I’m just going because Erica promised to pay me. With ice cream.” Then he gives Cora a wicked smile. “That I’m not going to share with either of you.”

“You are the worst brother!” Cora yells as he begins to climb the stairs. “And I hope you fall on your ass while trying to dance!”

“Can’t hear you!” Derek’s cell begins to ring. “Too busy getting ready to prom!”

Laura lets out a high-pitched laughter. “I love you two so much.”

Derek shakes his head fondly, closes his bedroom door behind himself just as Cora tells Laura to shut up. “Hey.” He answers the phone, collapsing on his bed. “What’s up?”

“Yo,” Stiles answers, “whatcha doing?”

“Listening to my sisters fight.” He says, snorting when he hears his dad start complaining about all the yelling and ‘no, Cora, I’m not letting you go to prom, you’re thirteen!’. “I’m gonna have to check the trunk of my car tomorrow night.”

Stiles laughs. “She’s not that good.”

“If you keep teaching her, she will be.” Derek blurts out, curses himself mentally when he realizes it came out harsher than he intended.

It’s just – sometimes he can’t help it. He’s known Stiles since they were four, Cora wasn’t even born then, but one day she turned eleven and Stiles became her new favorite person. Stiles couldn’t find it funnier and took Cora as his little apprentice. He even taught her how to cheat on Mario Kart.

He’s never taught Derek that.

Derek rolls his eyes, thinks about his little sister still downstairs pouting and trying to convince their dad that she’s old enough to go out. He shouldn’t be jealous of her, but the thing is – he grew up with two sisters, he knows how to share toys and food, but he doesn’t know how to share Stiles.

Because Stiles is his.

Keep reading

Six Years and Seven Days

This is pretending that Bellamy could hear Clarke talking all those years, she just can’t hear him responding, and that the ship at the end is them coming back to Earth. 

So…pain. 


Day Three

“Bellamy…are you up there? Are you alive? Is anyone alive?”

Static.

“I only woke up yesterday. At least, I think it was yesterday. I barely made it into the bunker in time, but I made it. And the computer says it’s been three days since the radiation hit, and I was so hungry I thought I might die. Please tell me you didn’t die.”

Silence.

“Bellamy, my mom was right. In a way. My face is disgusting, covered in boils. You’d be laughing at me…probably. Because she was right but so were you. I’m not dead Bellamy. I hope you aren’t either.”

His fingers slammed on the respond button, pushing it down to the point of it feeling like it would crack from the pressure.

“I’m not dead, Clarke. I’m not dead.”

Keep reading

Taken for Granted (pt 3)

As Namjoon closed the door behind him, he stood by the entrance, snickering to himself. “Her? Liking me? Wahh” he said silently to himself. He wasn’t sure what it was he was feeling now, but he couldn’t stop smiling. “As if I’d like her?” he said again to himself.

“Hyung what are you doing by yourself there?” Jungkook asked curiously.

“Huh? Oh nothing” Namjoon said, flustered.


(One week later)

“Hey guys, Y/N isn’t coming today! Looks like it’s just us tonight” Jin said, filling his voice through the dorm.

“Awh, whyyy” Taehyung asked, coming out of the living room.

“She said she’s sick” Jin said with a frown.

“Let’s go there then! We can bring her food” Taehyung said, excitedly.

“Yah, if she’s sick she should just rest. She can’t be taking care of you guys too” Jin scolded.

Taehyung walked back to the living room with his head held down. He was looking forward to watching the movie you two had discussed a few weeks ago, but it looks like it would have to wait another week. 

Namjoon meanwhile, listened to everything silently from the dining table. “That’s weird, she never falls sick…” he said to himself. 

“What’s that? Couldn’t hear you” Hoseok said, sitting across from him,

“oh, no it’s nothing” Namjoon said.

Keep reading

“Thanks, Maggie. Love you,” Dex says, and Nursey’s heart stops beating for a moment. His lungs refuse to inhale or exhale. The muscles in his legs forget that they are holding up an actual person.

Then Dex’s eyes catch his, going wide at the interruption, and Nursey somehow finds it in himself to pretend that everything is exactly the same now as it was thirty seconds ago.

He looks away and heads for the fridge, his limbs remembering themselves once more.

“Hey, uh, sorry, I gotta go. Can I call you back?” Dex says into his cell phone on the other side of the Haus kitchen.

Nursey rummages through several pounds of butter in search of something edible. He silently repeats to himself his old mantra from Andover, from when he could barely see straight for the tears welling up in his eyes at every backhanded remark or micro-aggression. The mantra he used to train his emotions not to show themselves at every turn, the way they had done with abandon throughout his childhood.

“Write it down instead,” his sister suggested, when he confided to her his inability to keep things bottled up. And, after a time, that strategy seemed to work.

Write it down instead, he still tells himself now, at the end of his Sophomore year at Samwell, whenever the world becomes too much, whenever he feels suddenly as though his façade of always okay always fine always chill isn’t strong enough to handle the current situation.

Nursey begins to silently run through the words again in his head now, trying very hard not to analyze why he needs to.

“Um, so. How much of that did you hear?” Dex asks him, and luckily Nursey’s got his head buried so far into the freezer that he doesn’t have to cover his pained grimace.

“Not much, man, don’t worry about it. Hey, you think Bitty would murder us if we used his new oven for store-brand taquitos?”

He barely hears Dex’s reply, though, too busy faking normalcy. Too busy wondering who it was on the other end of Dex’s phone call that got to hear the words “I love you” from the guy, and so casually offered up that Dex must say it to her daily.

Keep reading

nicky forces neil to get a new phone and eventually neil makes an instagram and as he starts getting more followers he gets more comfortable with having social media and does 60 second Q&A’s with the team at the fans request

  • the first one he does is with kevin because of popular demand
  • neil does it on the court after night practice with kevin and he reads a few questions that exy fans have commented on his previous posts
  • ‘kevin, what are you a queen of besides exy? no I’ll answer this, the answer is nothing, kevin sucks”
  • “fuck off neil” kevin gets serious and the rest of the video is kevin extensively and aggressively talking about exy until the timer cuts off
  • he does dan next and it’s the cutest 60 second video out there okay dan is sitting next to matt on the couch while neil is filming
  • he asks her how it feels to be “the best female exy captain in the NCAA” dan gets the biggest smile on her face and scrunches up her nose before she answers
  • ‘oh that’s sweet, who wants to know? I like this person. It feels great! but it’s stressful at times, there is a lot of sexism in the world but I usually ignore it in favor of focusing on how lucky I am to have such a great team.”
  • matt’s looking at her while she’s talking and u can literally see the love and admiration in his eyes, fans are crying in the comments about how cute they are, so am I
  • when he does renee, most of the comments are asking about her hair so she explains how she dilutes the bright colors by mixing them with conditioner to make them more pastel
  • “but that’s the easy part, root upkeep is the worst tho, I hate touch ups.”
  • neil vaguely knows what she’s talking about cause he’ll sit in the room when andrew helps her with her hair
  • nicky manages to tell half his life story in 60 seconds
  • neil uploads a second video of nicky giving advice to queer kids afraid to come out because of strict and religious parents or unsafe home lives
  • aaron walks away when neil tries to do his so instead neil uploads a five second video that’s just him zooming in on aaron sitting in a beanbag chair playing video games “aaron’s a dick.”
  • matt gets asked about his boxing background and he beams at the chance to talk about his mom
  • “she’s so badass, she taught me everything I know, she could kick anyone’s ass” he points at the camera “she’ll kick your ass. better watch out”
  • allison gives fashion tips, she also roasts neil for how he dressed when he first joined the team “god u guys should have seen him, fucking awful. nicky and I fixed him up tho, but it took a lot of work cause neil likes to make things difficult” 
  • when neil gets to andrew nobody expects him to actually upload anything but when he does the results are hilarious
  • neil sits next to andrew with the camera frontfaced so half of neil’s face is in the frame, andrew is curled up on the couch with a pint of ice cream and his glasses on “it’s time for your interview andrew”
  • andrew just stares at him
  • “why didn’t you sign with the rav- wait that’s a stupid fucking question, we’re not doing that one. alright. how many times have you and aaron been mistaken for one another?” 
  • andrew stares at the camera in silence
  • “tragic. next question. how are you so good at blocking goals?
  • silence
  • “incredible. what is your honest opinion about kevin day?”
  • andrew stares for a couple seconds before rolling his eyes and getting up to walk away, neil laughs and nods “I agree” 
  • BONUS: andrew has neil’s phone while they’re on the roof, neil is holding his cigarette and andrew starts filming, pointing the camera so you can only see neil
  • “hey junkie, it’s your turn to be interviewed” “alright” 
  • “how does it feel to finally have a real home?” 
  • neil smiles softly, but he’s looking at andrew not the camera “like I’m finally living, like I’ve got everything I could ever want”
  • there’s a short pause before you can faintly hear “285%” and the video cuts off
Vow

*swamped with homework and feelings and managed to shell this out a month late…I’m a mess™*

Request:  Hii can i have a drabble thingy game with jimin?TY😙😉 12,23 by  rebelliousjvmin

Word Count: 8.6k

Originally posted by bwipsul

He’s a literal angel


You were immersed in a deep sleep, tired from working on a large project that was worth half your grade. In you attempt to disconnect from the world around and sleep peacefully, you blocked out the sounds and all touch with reality. The sudden dip in your bed didn’t bother you, the presence of another body and an arm haphazardly wrapping around you, these were things you were blocking out. Until you felt a finger on your cheek.

“Hey, roomie.”

“I hate you.”

“You know you love me.”

“Kiss my ass, Jimin.” You used to think you were lucky to be paired up with your best friend in the dorms of your university. Until you realized he was a clingy, sassy and messy guy that never failed to annoy you. His leisure attitude towards school was opposite to your dedication to reading every word of your textbook. He was a jock, baseball being the reason he was here in your room and cheekily smiling at you.  

“I wouldn’t mind doing that.” You whacked him in the face with your pillow, wanting him to leave your room but he instead pulled you closer against his chest.

“Let go of me, you pervert.”

“You told me to kiss your ass, now…”

“I swear to god, Jimin, I’ll suffocate you in your sleep.”

“Kinky. I always wanted to test out breath play.”

Keep reading

Dorm Mates AU
  • Harry and Ron were SUPPOSED to be roommates but Ron fucked up and forgot to request him
  • On move in day Harry bumps into this asshole who’s bitching about someone touching his “imported scarves”
  • Harry doesn’t have a lot to unpack so he’s already set up when that same asshole barges into the room. He doesn’t even notice Harry as he orders the poor volunteers around, telling them how to set up and “that doesn’t go THERE what are you, an animal???”
  • When the storm clears Harry just stands there blinking as Draco finally notices him. He offers him his hand to shake with his signature “Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. And you are…?”
  • Harry reluctantly takes it. “… Harry Potter”
  • Throughout the school year they’re very short with each other, usually hanging out with other groups. They still respect each others rules and lifestyles within the dorm, but rarely ever talk.
  • One night, late into the year, Draco comes in shit faced drunk while Harry is studying.
  • He starts crawling all over Harry on the bed and ends up laying in his lap talking about how everyone wants to be friends with him because of his father and how sometimes he doesn’t even like the people he hangs out with and stuff like that
  • After his long rant they just kinda sit there and suddenly Draco looks up like “You’re really hot you know that? Like suuuper hot. That’s why all those girls are after you. But you’re so stupid you don’t even realize it. Honestly.”
  • He kinda goes on about how hot Harry is and how sometimes he wants to make out with his stupid face and how the way his expressions are on a day to day basis is practically killing him but then Draco starts falling asleep mid-rant and just passes out on Harry’s lap.
  • Harry just sits there in stunned silence before sliding out from under Draco and going to Rons to spend the night
  • Draco wakes up feeling horrible and he doesn’t remember a lot from the night before. When he sees he’s on Harry’s bed and Harry is gone he starts panicking like “fuck fuck FUCK what did I do??”
  • Later that night Harry comes back and they exchange awkward “heys” before Draco gets all formal saying he’s sorry if he said anything out of term or caused any trouble
  • Harry just laughs like “you’re fine its cute the way you act when you’re drunk”
  • Draco is internally screaming at "cute” but he’s like “nevertheless I should not have imposed you-”
  • Harry interrupts him like “dude enough you don’t have to act so up tight with me I’m not gonna judge you”
  • And after a bunch of back and forth they’re suddenly criss crossed on the floor talking about their stupid aunt and uncle or how strict their houses are and they’re up talking until 2AM and somehow Draco ends up in Harry’s lap again ranting away and Harry is playing with his hair, only stopping when he agrees with something (“RIGHT?? How stupid is that???”)
  • There’s a small pause as they catch their breath and wind down a bit
  • Draco closes his eyes while Harry combs through his bangs before asking “So last night I just ranted about my friends at you?”
  • Harry chuckled and makes a mysterious comment like “among other things”
  • “Like what?” Draco is sweating now oh god what did I say to this beautiful boy
  • “Apparently I’m hot and I don’t even realize it”
  • Draco’s hands are on his face because he’s beet fucking red and Harry is laughing trying to pry them away
  • “don’t worry, don’t worry! I thought it was cute-” “don’t make fun of me!” “I’m not! Really! It was adorable! To be honest, I think everything you do is adorable” “OOHMYGOD PLEASE STOP”
  • and they both act like total fucking dorks until Harry manages to get Draco’s hands out of his face and plants a weird upside down kiss on his lips
  • Harry half-expects him to get embarrassed, but after a beat Draco’s pulling Harry back down with messy kisses and reposition’s himself so he’s straddling Harry’s lap
  • They’re wrapped around each other, Draco holding himself up so he can curve Harry’s head back and force his mouth open
  • Harry’s clawing at his back, about to slide his hands down to grab Draco’s hips when there’s a loud knock on the door (“are you fucking kidding me” goes through both their minds)
  • Ron’s coming from a party, drunk, trying to get Harry to go with him. Harry just takes Ron back to his dorm instead.
  • He expects Draco to be asleep when he gets back, which he is.
  • But on Harry’s bed.
  • Deliberately leaving space for Harry.
  • For the rest of the year they switch off on cuddling and making out with each other on different beds. Ron finds out at the end of the year and is more upset about how he could have half-dormed with them since they had an extra bed than the fact they were secretly dating all that time.

I think I’m in love with muggle AU’s of drarry. Also, make out scenes are my life. Fight me.

That ADHD feel when someone asks you a really simple question about yourself and your stupid hell brain immediately forgets the answer, so there’s this awkward pause while you try to remember your own goddamn birthday or how your day has been. Bonus points if you’re in a session with your psychologist and they ask what you want to talk about today and you automatically forget everything that has happened to you since your last appointment, so you both just sit there in silence.

Reasons I can’t get “Pierre & Anatole” out of my head

I had firmly resolved that “The Confrontation” from Les Miserables would always and forever be my favorite male-to-male confrontation in all of musical theatre. Firmly resolved. But then came Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812 (or just The Great Comet) and asdfghjkl guys, I’ve been obsessing over the whole musical. Especially with the Original Broadway cast album just released!!

Originally posted by ezekielfigueros

Anyways, here’s some of the reasons I love “Pierre and Anatole” so much. There are spoilers, so stay away if you’re afraid of those ;)

-the TENSION alone from the opening music…and they haven’t even spoken yet!

-Even though the lyrics are almost directly quoted from the actual book War and Peace, they still seem so musical and rhyme-y

-“Mon cher” (Anatole is literally calling Pierre “my dear” in French)

-How snobbish and aloof Anatole is trying to seem when he’s really about to wet his pants

-The rage of Pierre!!!

-“I don’t know what deprives me of the pleasure of smashing your head in with this” (Pierre holding a paper weight)

-The difference from how Pierre was all “f*ck it” in “Preparations,” and “The Abduction,” when he didn’t know that the girl Anatole was marrying happened to be Natasha, to how he is all “f*ck you” in this song, now that he has the knowledge

-“Pierre paces the room several times in silence. Anatole sits at a table, frowning and biting his lips”

-Anatole being a stupid whiny little b*tch and yet still…

-“Amuse youself with women like my wife!”

Originally posted by emreozcan

^omg. this. line. Need I go in to how Anatole and Helene are *probably* the Jaime and Cersei Lannister of their day? Need I?! And all the other stuff…omg. This is a harsh bite.

-just every way that Pierre puts Anatole in his place to defend honor that isn’t even his own

-“But you have used such words to me—"Scoundrel,“ and so on, Which, as a man of honor, I will not allow anyone to use” ha.ha.ha. “You could at least take back your words, eh? If you want me to do as you wish”

Pierre you better not! No Pierre!!!

- …..

-……

- “Fine I take them back”

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

and not only does Pierre “take them back,” he also asks that Anatole forgive him, and then gives money to that heartless chihuahua!!! And he offers—offers to do so. Smh. WTF?! Why?!?!?!

And, finally….

-“For Petersbuuuuuuurrrrrrrg!” (you will have to listen to it to understand)

Valentine’s Gift for @peanut-milk for the @aftgexchange.

The one where Andrew and Neil have their first official date( On Valentine’s Day no less. Blame Allison.)


“So, what did you get your monster for Valentine’s Day?” Allison asks, as she idly types away at her phone.

Anger bubbles up in Neil, “Allison, he’s not—“ he begins, but gets cut off by her.

“Sorry, I meant to say Andrew, your boyfriend. What did you get him for Valentine’s Day?” she gives a quick glance up at Neil, whose face appears slightly flushed at the remark. A smirk forms on her lips, “Don’t try and deny that. I won’t let you.”

Neil sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “Nothing. Why would I?” At those words, Allison stops typing away on her phone and sets it down next to her. She arches a brow at Neil, “What do you mean ‘nothing,’ it’s Valentine’s Day, Neil. That one day of the year specifically designated by capitalism to celebrate your love with your partner. Which is Andrew, in your case.”

Love. He lets the word wash over him. He doesn’t know if that’s the word he’d use. It’s a word too overused all around him but too underused in his own life for it to mean anything to him.  He doesn’t think any word is fit to describe what he and Andrew have and yet—

Keep reading

You know what they say. Once you write fic you’re in too deep.

“You did what?!” Lucien didn’t know if he should laugh or scream at the boy infront of him. The other boy glared, “You heared me.” He said and Lucien couldn’t help cracking a smile, “Okay,” he said, “You got yourself a tatt by some shabby person instead of asking me where you can get one made properly, am I getting this right?” Ernest avoided eye contact, but nods, a clear pout on his face. “And now you are worried it might have caught an infection.” Lucien continued, Ernest still was avoiding his gaze, “ And you want me to look at it because you don’t want your dad to know.” Ernest didn’t response and it took Lucien’s entire will power to not end up laughing at- or hitting the boy .

“Honestly, you are such an idiot.” Ernest glared at him but didn’t reply, which surprised him honestly, normally Ernest would jump on the chance to have a argument with him. Lucien reflected on the last couple of days and now that he thought about it, the other boy has been acting rather jumpy lately. How long has he been in pain he wondered.

“Dude, seriously. Just tell your Dad and go to a doctor.” Ernest looked actually paniced now, “Please you can’t tell him! If he finds out he will think I’m irresponsible!” Lucien just stared for a moment in silence, wondering, as he does so often, if this boy lives in another realm of reality or if he truly could be that stupid. “You are. I got my tatt from Kyle, his dad’s doing this shit professionally and he has done it for half the school, he knows his shit.” His dad still scolded him about having it done by a teenager instead of consulting him and having a professional do the job, but really, he isn’t as stupid as to let a stranger who does tattoos for minors lay hands on him.

Ernest apparently was though.

“Please Lucien! If he finds out he might take away Dutches!” Lucien paused, Ernest loves that dog, anybody could tell that losing her would completely destroy him. Lucien himself couldn’t form a attachment to the dog, his alergies preventing him from truly getting close to her. But he knew Ernest was a lot less irritating due to her and quiet a bit happier.

Lucien hesitated a bit longer before finally giving in. He knew he would regret this later on but whatever.

“Okay gee, just show it to me already.” He said and the other boy suddenly turned a interesting shade of red. “Um you know, on second thought…” he trailed of and Lucien seriously was losing his patience. Lucien grabed the bottom of his friends hoodie and forcefully took it off, ignoring his friend’s complaints. He turned Ernest around, looking at the other teen’s right shoulder where the tattoo was located, Ernest has been avoiding contact with that site the last few days. He stared at it for a long while, feeling quiet a bit dumbfounded by the image on Ernest’s back.

It was a heart with a banner which said “DAD” in bold letters.

“Not. A. Word.” Was hissed out by Ernest who Lucien could tell must be feeling fairly embarrassed. Lucien bit back any comment he could have made, knowing it probably would earn him a bloody nose again. To be honest he actually found this tattoo kind of endearing, almost cute even. Not that he would ever tell Ernest that.

“When did you have this thing done?” He asked, looking at the red swollen edges. “A week ago.”

“And it still hurts?”

“Would we be here if it didn’t?!”

Lucien stayed silent, he tried to remember what Cassie, one of his friends, did when her tattoo got an infection. If he was right she put some special cream on it and cleaned it a lot? He probably should look that up….or drag Ernest to a doctor.

“Why did you got that thing in the first place?” He asked, he actually was curious, Ernest never showed any particular interest in them after all and Lucien really had a hard time wraping his head around this entire ordeal. Ernest grumbled something under his breath, “What?” Lucien asked and Ernest, rather reluctantly, repeated what he said.

“I tried to impress someone.”

Oh. Lucien wouldn’t lie, that did feel like a punch in the gut. He and Ernest have known eachother since kindergarten and his crush on the other boy has been a on and off thing that never really went away fully. That was the first time he heared Ernest talk about liking somebody, normally he would keep stuff like that to himself. He is very bad with feelings after all. “Please say something, this is getting too awkward.” Ernest spoke up again. “O-oh. Yeah. Um. I’m pretty sure it’s infected.” The other boy let out a groan, Lucien sighed.

“Why this tattoo?” He asked, Ernest’s relationship with his father was complicated, he loved him, sure, but he wasn’t one to voice it or show it a lot. “I wanted the name of the person I wanted to impress on it first but then I realized if he rejects me I would run around with a reminder of my first heartbreak for the rest of my life.” Lucien frowned.

“Your first?! Like ever?!” He asked, shocked by this new revelation, “Dude, don’t tell me that’s your first crush.” The other boy didn’t reply and now it really stung. He ignored the unreasonable feeling of envy he had for that person he didn’t even know and pat around the swollen red edges of Ernest’s tattoo, that caused him a gasp of pain. Yup, this thing was infected alright.

“Do you have a fever?” He asked, “Huh?!” Lucien shaked his head as he reached for Ernest’s forhead. It didn’t feel particularly warm. Good, it wasn’t a dangerous infection…yet, he thinks at least. “Was it at least effective?” He asked, wanting and at the same time not wanting to know the answer to that question. “H-he didn’t seem very impressed by it.” Ernest admitted dejectedly. Lucien felt guilty about being happy over that information, he really did, but it wasn’t like he could help how he feels, he probably wouldn’t feel so awful if he could.
After a few more seconds of examining the Tattoo Lucien let out a sigh. He steped away from his friend, “This thing is infected for sure.” He declared and Ernest let out a noice that came close between a groan and a kicked puppy. It was kinda adorable.

“I will talk to my dad. He will tell your dad to chill and make sure you guys keep the Dutches. Put your hoody back on we are going to a doctor.” Lucien reasured him. “Really?” Ernest looked hopeful. “Yeah. Even if he fails, I’m sure we can mobilize the other kids to overthrow the adult authority and crown the Dutches as the new ruler of Maple Bay.” That earned him a laugh, “Amanda would be proud.” Ernest played along. Lucien smiles, “That’s one of the best compliments one can rescive.”

With that they exited the basement together, “Next time you want to impress someone,” Lucien said, “Try stuff like flowers first.”

Forgiveness in Time - Bucky Barnes

Summary: You had it bad for the school charmer, but let’s be honest. who didn’t? After letting your wall down, the unimaginable happens, but will you have the heart to let him back into your life?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Words: 2,802 (another longer one)

Warnings: angsttttttt, mentions of sex, some swears, steve being the cutest best friend, fluffy ending, fuckboy!bucky

Parts: Part 1, Part 2

A/N: second fic! i got an absolutely crazy amount of love on my last fic so thanks guys sm <3 again, i don’t know if any of y’all are into this but it was so much fun to write!! (if you like peter parker fluff check out my other fic!!)


Everyone seemed to warn you of the man with the killer smile.

He had literally charmed the pants off everyone he had met.

But lord help you, he was your type.

And goddamn he was attractive.

Bucky Barnes was known as the school charmer. Everyone knew that. His dark brown hair, mysterious eyes, strong jaw, and gorgeous smile was enough for girls to drop their panties.

Including you. You were absolute smitten for the boy prancing around school with two girls tucked underneath his arms and the entire football following him.

Keep reading

Workout (m)

inspired by this particular gif (credit to @/natka9721)

i swear this boy is out to kill all of us but stay strong just like that last button on his shirt 

Rated M 

Word Count: 3469

Jeongguk x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: Jeongguk’s under strict instructions not to work out because it’s eating into the wardrobe budget and causing one too many malfunctions. As his stylist, you’re responsible for making sure he fits into his stage outfits, but when his urge to workout is unstoppable, you’re left with only one other choice to save your job.


The situation is dire, but Jeongguk doesn’t seem to be aware of even an inkling of your desperation as you run your hands over his chest frantically.

“Damn it Jeon Jeongguk, did you work out again? I literally just replaced all the dress shirts in your stage outfits with a size up just last week! And Jungyeon unnie will kill me if I tell her your blazer needs to be altered, again. Didn’t manager Sejin tell you that you weren’t allowed to work out anymore??”

He doesn’t seem to be listening to your mini rant as he checks himself out in the mirror behind you, admiring the smokiness of the eyeshadow smudged on his lids, and running a finger along the sharp crease of his jaw before adjusting the mic headset around his ear.

You give his nipple a sharp pinch and he yelps in response. He has the decency to look a little guilty as he shifts his gaze to your face, and fiddles with his bottom lip in hesitation.

Keep reading

A Hundred Lesser Faces: (Seven)


Notes from Mod Bonnie

  • This story stems from the premise: what if Voyager!Claire had gone first to Lallybroch instead of directly to the print shop in Edinburgh?

Many a red-headed man I’d passed on the long road from Lallybroch. Every single time, my stupid, desperate heart had leapt with joy; and every time, I cursed myself for the fool that I was. For Christ’s SAKE, why the bloody hell should he be on the road from Inverness, Beauchamp? Jamie Fraser is south, in Edinburgh, with his wife. With his daughters. Happy. So, pull yourself together. 

So deep had been my longing, though, that my traitorous eyes had tried over and over to convince me that it might be, it MIGHT be this time! (even when the actual travelers hadn’t looked remotely like Jamie). Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, one had been a very tall boy no more than twelve, and I still had had to see his face from ten feet before I would allow my heart to quiet. Not him. Not him. 

Blind hope, indeed. 

But this time, as I whirled and fell on the hillside, heart exploding, in a single moment, I was certain. Even from a great distance, even two decades later, even not yet able to see his face through the snow-flecked gloom, even had he not been screaming my name, yes, I’d know the shape of that man anywhere. It was Jamie, tearing toward me on horseback, riding like the hounds of hell were at his heels. And the SIGHT of him? A relief and a love smashed through me, so deep and so visceral that I staggered downward; not running, not even making my way down the hill;  just slipping, pulled toward his orbit. 

Alive. I had known for months, believed, had confirmation from Jenny herself, and yet the proof was now there before my eyes. Not under a stone on Culloden Moor; that nightmare was now banished forever. Jamie Fraser was ALIVE.

I saw him kick hard, spurring the horse to an even more astonishing pace—how loudly must he have been screaming that I had been able to hear him from so far away?—and found myself bursting out with joyous laughter at the way his shirt flapped like a sail in the wind. Nothing changed, then, if the ridiculous man had ridden without a coat or a cloak against the wind and the sn—


Wife. 

No.

Daughters.

Please….please, no.

This changes absolutely nothing, Beauchamp. This ends with you going through those stones, sooner or later. Make it sooner. 

But he came for me—Jamie came! He’s HERE.

He’s happy. He may have come, but he’s happy.  Don’t make him suffer by forcing this impossible choice. 

Just let me say goodbye.

Please. 

Let me hold him, just for —

Beauchamp: 

Can you honestly do what needs to be done if you have to look him in the eye and pull yourself out of his arms?


“CLAIRE!—What are ye—? S T O P !”

I was running up the hill, stumbling and tripping, going as fast as I could. I couldn’t stop. If I looked at him—If I touched him…

Everything seemed to slow to single frames, impressions:


The slow shrill cry of my breaths,

the grass suddenly inches from my nose as I staggered low over a boulder.

Hoofbeats, closer, louder.


I’m running for my life through quicksand,

every footfall sinking me deeper, and slower, as the monster gets closer and closer and—


A fierce whinny, a curse.

A voice— my voice—screaming. “STAY AWAY!”

Boots hitting the ground,

“CLAIRE, STOP!


Running, both of us running,  

and I couldn’t stop.

I must not st—


Time smashed into its normal pace again as I fell, mere yards from the crest of the hill, and cried out in pain.

“CLAIRE!” God, he was so close, pounding up the hill behind me, no more than thirty—

Don’t!” I shouted as I scrambled to my feet. 

“CLAI—”

“DO—NOT—TOUCH—ME!”  I screamed it over my shoulder with all the violence I possessed, a feral beast, cornered and ready to go for the throat as it went down.

Silence fell on the faerie hill. Stillness, and absolute silence.

When human thought returned, I was on my feet at the very top of the hill, the stones screaming their evil song behind me. My body was slung sideways, both arms raised in defense; my head hung at an improbable angle so as to look nowhere, see nothing: not the stones, not him. It was elemental in my body, in that moment: the absolute imperative not to look at him. If I could keep from looking, keep from getting trapped in those eyes, everything would be alright.

It was a ridiculous logic, I knew; somewhere in the recesses of my consciousness, that was obvious. Jamie Fraser was HERE. He wouldn’t simply let me walk away unacknowledged; but such was the depth of my panic and hysteria that I couldn’t move. I was bare millimeters from completely falling apart, abandoning all my noble resolve, and flinging myself into his arms, begging him to choose me  take me and damn the fucking consequences.

But it still wouldn’t change a bloody thing, the rational half of my mind whimpered. He would still be married. He would still have his children. We still could not be together, or at least not under any circumstances that honor would permit. I still could not force him to make that choice. 

Hold yourself together, Beauchamp. No tears, remember? You said you could do the same for him; could be calm and sure for him. Now, do it. Stand strong.

“….Mo nighean donn?”

That flower-stem snap.

That voice—Jamie’s sweet, clear voice; my very heart speaking aloud, quietly, but with every ounce of pain and longing that I felt in my own breast. 

Look at me, mo nighean donn.”

Stand. strong.

My mouth was dry and my entire body was shaking, each word an effort. “— Can't—”

A sudden, vicious snarl. “LOOK at me!”

I half-growled, half screamed, “I—CANT!” 

Desperate. So desperate, that ‘can’t’. I was shaking. Going into shock, in fact. Could feel the darkness and the manic energy and the absolute inability to retrieve words or actions closing—

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.” 

He said it like he always said his own name: low and distinct, with honor in every syllable.  

BE STRONG.

“I have ridden,” he said, in a voice so quiet and deep and measured, “night and day for nigh on a week, terrified that—terrified th—*Please,*” His calm vanished and the words were tumbling out of him in a frantic rush. “Please, for the love ye bear me, for the love that brought ye to find meTURN.”

STAND.

God, but I can’t stand.

“By everything that is holy…” A whispered moan. “Let me see your face, mo ghraidh.

….and damn my weak, foolish heart, I turned. I looked.


Day and night for a week, he’d said, and I believed it. Even at a distance of twenty feet down the hill, I could see just how bloodshot his eyes were, wide and wild. He was pale, underneath the red of wind and exertion, paler than I remembered. That glorious hair was now worn long. If it had been tied back, the ride and the wind had undone it. It was wild and tangled, whipping about his face, his chin covered in stubble that nearly amounted to a beard. His clothes—nothing but shirt, breeks and boots— were filthy and torn and splattered with mud. He looked, quite simply, dead on his feet.

He was the most beautiful sight I’d ever beheld.

God, you’re so like her, I wanted to moan. I’d known it, had had my heart broken every day to see the proof of him in our daughter, and yet seeing him now before me, I was absolutely run through to find her broad, good-humored face there, the same dark blue eyes aslant the high, flat cheekbones and wide mouth. 

He’d aged, of course, as had I. The lines around eyes and mouth were deeper, the skin more weathered and coarse, but it was still him. His nose had been broken, at some point. It made him look fiercer, though perhaps that was simply fatigue and the vast waves of emotion obviously rushing through him, through us both. 

Jamie had staggered back a pace or two back as he stared up at me, nearly toppling down the steep incline. “Jesus….Christ…” he whispered. The back of his hand was pressed to his mouth as though to stifle a cry, “You’re….You….” The hand became a fist and he shook his head as a gasping smile broke from him. “Claire—God, Claire, mo chridhe!” He moved, about to sprint up the hill. 

I jumped backward. Raised my arms against him. No.

Hurt. Betrayal. Pain. It was as though I had shot him at point-blank range…And something deeper shone beneath it all: some blazing intensity I couldn’t quite identify. He looked as though he would bleed out there on the spot, from this newest wound. 

So will I, my love. 

But he heeded me, standing completely still. His hands shook, half-raised before him. He simply didn’t know what to do with them—I knew because I didn’t know what to do with mine. His mouth worked as he tried to speak, to ask, to say something, but failing. Those eyes held everything, though. Pleading.

Silence on the hill. Silence and screaming. 

“You—survived,” I managed at last, weakly, with something like a laugh.

“Aye—” He exhaled in a huge rush, clearly grateful that I’d broken the stalemate. “It was a verra close thing.” He spoke fast and frantically, babbling, even, as though terrified to let silence fall again. “I should have died in the battle, or from the firing squads after, or of my wounds festering, but— Aye, I—I was—spared.”

“Thank God,” I whispered, and his eyes lit with such hope and relief that I could have cut my bloody tongue out at the root.

STOP this instant, Beauchamp. Nothing has changed.

Jamie was the one to break the silence, this time. “Your letter,” he gasped out.

“You read it, then?” A stupid thing to say. He’d obviously read it, but I clung to conversation just as he had. The stupid words were something, something to keep from falling off the edge of this insanity. “When?”

“By providence, I arrived at Lallybroch the same day you’d left, and….Oh, God, CLAIRE….”

Oh, God, Jamie. 

Each time my name left him, it seemed to tear a piece out of both of us. I could only look down at him, waiting.

“When I saw your hand on that letter,” he said, voice shaking uncontrollably, “the print of your ring in the wax, I …”

He shook his head, at a loss, mouthing it over and over. I…I….

Through the snow, though darkness was creeping steadily around us, I could see the first tear sliding down his cheek. “….I felt as though I were dying.”

So did I. So do I.

“To know you’d survived—that you’d come back, and—and,” his eyes lit up. “Brianna.”

From his lips, our daughter’s name sounded like strange music from another world, and I wanted to listen to it forever.

“It would have been enough—more than enough—only to ken our bairn had lived, that the both of ye had lived and been cared for, but to….Claire, I simply couldna believe my eyes.” He shook his head, violently. “To see…to SEE the lass…our daughter.” Jamie released his sobbing breath and closed his eyes, holding out his hands before him, tears streamed down his cheeks. “Her entire life, there before me… and she so happy and so braw and bonny and—God, it tore out my beating heart.” He heaved a breath and smiled up at me, beaming with love and joy, though it was difficult for him to get out the words. “She’s—more wonderful than I ever could have imagined, mo ghraidh….Our Brianna.”

I forced a smile and choked down a sob. “I’m so honored,” I whispered, so haltingly, so carefully, so, so carefully, “to have been able—to bring her to you, in some way.”

My love.

My own love.


Nothing has changed.

I know. 


I took a step, two steps, backward toward the stones. This was the part where I was to be strong. 

Jamie’s eyes snapped into laser-focus, a predator’s, and that unknown intensity I’d seen earlier flamed now into life. It was anger

“Why would ye just GO?” His voice was still wretched with pain but he was snarling, stammering, growling in mounting fury. “Ye—ye came for me and—Ye came all the way from your time through the stones and then meant to go back and leave forever wi’out even—Damn ye, woman, ye didna even—If I hadna come just in time—Foolish—wretched, FOOLISH—” He hurled the demand toward me with his entire body. “WHY?”

“You *know* why.” It was all but a moan. 

He growled again. “Ye dinna ken —” 

“I know that you’re married,” I got out, moving sideways around the rim of the hill, countering his advance. “I know you have children. Jenny told me everything—how hap—”

“No, Claire, ye dinna understand!” Something had shifted in his eyes — relief? — and he was once again still, though scarcely fifteen feet in front of me down the hill. “Jenny lied. She lied, Claire,” he insisted, the words falling out of him. “She lied and made ye think I was—”

You’re not  ??”

Jenny lied! Thank the bloody stars above, the horrible bitch LIED!!! Jesus H— 

My smile broke through like the dawn, a blaze of glorious, raging happiness as I gasped out, “Then, you’re not married?”

And I watched as that hope shriveled and vanished to dust. His eyes dropped to the ground. “I am marrit.”

I swayed, eyes closed. I couldn’t bear this any longer, couldn’t take this agony raging in my heart, both the emotional and the physical heart. I felt light-headed, felt pain in my limbs. I couldn’t be strong. I couldn’t.

Just a little while longer. Say your farewell, and be gone. It will be alright, Beauchamp. 

“Then she didn’t lie,” I said, simply, my throat burning with the effort not to wail. “You have a wife and two beautiful daughters.” I caught my breath and opened my eyes, managing to smile, though I was so very near the brink. “I meant what I wrote in the letter. Every single word. I want you to be happy—and I’m glad that you are. I’m glad that you have a family and that they have made you happy.”

His brows were drawn up, making him look absolutely crazed. He mouthed the word like he’d never heard it before. Happy?

“But I—” Somehow, I kept up the smile as I whispered through wooden lips and burning throat and the tears. “—but it means—that I have—to go, now— before—”

“NO,” he snarled, springing with sudden force. I staggered still further away around the hill as he bellowed, “You’ll NOT—”

“BE STILL!” I bellowed back.

And once again, he heeded me. 

“For God’s fucking SAKE, you bloody — Scot!” I shouted down at him, suddenly just as furious as he. “Have you NO notion of what — Don’t you understand? I’m giving you up! I’m letting you go!” I gestured wildly behind me to the stones, choking on my tears. “I’m leaving so you don’t have to choose! Do you think I’m so arrogant as to believe I’m worth upending your happy—”

“DAMN YOU, woman, I havena been HAPPY in TWENTY YEARS!”


Silence on the faerie hill. Silence and screaming. 


When he spoke again, it was once more in that quiet, aching whisper.

“Jenny led ye to believe otherwise and may she be damned for it.” He took a step forward, pointing.  “But in that letter, ye renewed a promise to me; and I’ll give ye the same, now.” Another step. 

I stepped back. 

He surrendered, went to his knees, hands clenched in the posture of oath-taking. “No lies, Claire.” His eyes blazed into mine. “Nor secrets. Not ever. Not now. I swear it on Brianna’s life.”

God, my heart…

“Will ye hear what I have to tell?” 

…it simply couldn’t take this.

But I nodded. 


“I left Laoghaire more than a year past.”

LAOGHAIRE?!?”

The outburst was so violent, so loud and so shrill in the wake of my long silence, that it startled us both. Jamie had to put a hand out to steady himself as he jumped, and the acute panic of a fresh hell showed across his face.  “She—Jenny didna—?”

“No, she BLOODY well DIDN’T!”

“Aye, well—ah …ehm…Claire?” 

He was peering leerily up at me, and little wonder, for I was laughing—actually, CACKLING with laughter, hands clutched to my belly as I doubled over with it. 

“No, Jenny didn’t tell me who,” I sighed, when I had calmed down (marginally). “The only detail your darling sister deigned to divulge about your wife—” 

Of all people. Of ALL the marriageable women in all the bleeding Highlands. He had married —had had children with—loved—

All levity, all scorn dropped out of me, and my voice cracked, a whispering shell. “—was that you were happier with her than she’d ever seen you….And that you had two little girls that call you Da.”

“But they’re not mine, Claire. They’re not mine,” Jamie said again more urgently as I stared. He gritted his teeth. “And I shall wring my sister’s neck for a wicked liar when next I see her, for she kens fine that I’ve not had ninety-nine happy minutes in that marriage since it began.”

I was so cold. Frozen, in every cell. 

“Two years ago, we wed,” he began carefully. “She was marrit before, twice, and found herself a widow wi’ two bairns to feed just as I was newly come back from England.” 

His words were running together, a bit. There was so much warring within him, so much he clearly wished to say, but cold and fatigue and emotion were taking their devastating toll.  

“I’m fond of her lassies—Marsali and Joan. They’re aged fifteen and twelve and have had a cruel, rough way of it, in lives so short. Wi’ all that they’ve endured, I was glad—honored, even— for them to take me into their hearts as a father, but hear me, Claire.” He held my eye. “I’ve shared scarce more wi’ them than what loving gentleness I could offer, and a scant few months of meals shared ‘round the same table. No more.” He shook his head with a sound of shame and regret. “Christ, I sound an unfeeling wretch. I do care for them, I do.

But they weren’t born of his love; nor had he had a hand in raising them.

“Their mother…She…”

She. 

“I did have hope, at the beginning; hope that perhaps there could be some — tenderness between us. Nothing like—” He make a vain gesture up at me and closed his eyes, as though he couldn’t bear it. “—like what I kent it could be between a husband and wife, but something good to keep me sane; keep me alive….Can ye see?…Have ye kent that same hope, Claire?…. Only she couldna; or I couldna. I’ll accept the blame in full, but in the end, the ‘why’ and ‘who’ dinna matter. It was a broken thing within months, and I knew that if I’d stayed….” 

He hung his head, and for the first time, I could truly see the twenty years that had gone from his life. 

“I left for Edinburgh; have been there ever since. I provide for them, but I havena called Balriggan home for over a year…nor shared her bed since long before that.”  

The wind whistled between us. What he was saying…

I was numb. I was…It was like I was underwater, with news being shouted to me from dry land as I slowly drowned. 

“I’ve lain wi’ three women, since you’ve been gone,” he blurted suddenly, urgently against my silence, his voice so miserable, his eyes imploring. “Laoghaire, and two single-night encounters, and from one of those—From one of those nights…”

Oh, Jesus…

“William,” he whispered, nodding in confirmation, his eyes absolutely wretched but shining with the need to confess. “He’s a — a bastard, in England, and I shall never see him again. I’ve never told anyone of him, not even Jenny or Ian. His mother, his putative father—they’re both dead. He’s highborn, in the care of a man I trust. John will give him a good life; better than ever a convicted traitor could.” 

He closed his eyes and I could see his mouth working furiously as he tried both to form words and to hold back his weeping. “But he’s my son,” he whispered. “My only son, alive in the world because of me, and he’s bonny and canty and strong, just like Brianna, and there are days when I canna seem to live wi’out seeing him, holding him, or —” And he went silent, hiding his face in his hands until he could manage to speak. “Nor can I regret that he lives, for those years I had near Willie were the closest thing I’ve had to—to — And that only a shell of what….”

He raised a hand up as though he would cup my cheek across the chasm between us; then dropped it. Both hands lay on his thighs, aimless. 

“No. Happiness has not been granted me, Claire.” He stared at his palms, speaking in the barest, broken murmur. “My heart left wi’ you and the bairn; and while it is my duty to go on, to care for those under my protection, as I shall do, I’ve had little joy save the knowledge that at the end, I’d die and be able to find ye, just as I promised. Two hundred years, I said I’d wait. I’ve been counting.”

The snowflakes danced around us in the near-night, oblivious to desperation or to miraculous sparks catching in dark, deep places. 

“And to then learn in a moment that you’d come back…”

I tried to speak; but I was shaking so hard that I couldn’t open my mouth. I clenched it tight, feeling the tears slipping over my lips. 

“Claire?” he moaned, reaching out a hand. “…Lass?…Love?…I feel as if I shall die if I canna touch ye….Please.”

My knees had locked — everything within me had locked, between Jamie and the cold— and as I tried to adjust my footing, I accidentally stumbled backward a pace.

Despair escaped out of him and he jumped up as though to run to me, but he thought better of it, and came back down to his knees.

“Twice, I brought ye here to send ye away, mo nighean donn, because I knew a better life awaited ye on the other side of those accursed stones. Perhaps it does, this day, as well, but this time, I shall beg. Don’t go.” 

He raised both clawed hands to me. The tears were flowing so violently and his face was so deeply contorted so as to be barely recognizable. 

“Don’t go. Stay wi’ me. Stay. I canna…I canna do it…Please.*please*….”  

I was paralyzed, completely immobilized by — by —

“Is it too much to forgive, Claire?” came the cracked moan of my heart through the darkness that had suddenly hidden him from me entirely. “Laoghaire and—and William? Do… do ye not want me?”

God, Jamie…” I whispered, so softly that surely only the grass and the snow could hear. 

It was the first time I had said his name aloud to him.

“….you’re all I want.”


“Then  what   else   matters?”


“….Nothing.”


Nothing else mattered.

And I was flying down to him, and he was flying off his knees to catch me, and the feeling of his arms around me, of Jamie’s arms around me at last was —

Like lightning, striking upon the sand. A flash of light, of power, instantly transforming the hundreds of tiny fragments— the millions of shards weathered to all but nothing by time—into a single, molten one. A whole. 


END OF PART I

MESSAGE DELIVERED | pt.2

→ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader / Namjoon x Reader
→ Genre: fluff, smut, angst, humor
→ Words: 3,182
→ Rated: NC-17
→ Warnings: none in this part
→ Summary: A text message sent to the wrong number turns into a long lasting affair between two people completely opposite one another.
→ Note: So, yeah… here’s the now official part 2! I’m really sorry for the delay, but I hope you’ll like it! :)

Parts: 01 : interim : 02 : coming soon

cr.


━ 12:03pm
It must be because I’m very tired
But ur still hilarious
Night lol

With a heavy sigh, you lean back in your seat, a blush creeping up your cheeks at the realization you probably crossed a line or something with those messages you sent to him on Saturday night. You’d prayed throughout the whole day after you’d get a reply, and when that didn’t happen you’d checked your phone every twenty minutes on Monday and today every time your phone buzzed. It’s kinda lame.

Really, you have no actual reason to be this upset about it.

“Joonie asked me about you today in class”, Jeongyeon says when your professor seems to still be too busy shuffling through his papers to give a damn about what’s going on in his class.

Keep reading

Lance dropping casual observations about Keith is a pure and good thing.

They’re on a new planet and Lance is trying out the food at a local festival. He’s thankful for the green goop and Hunk has done wonders in experimenting with the flavor, but sometimes a guy needs a little more variety. Or at least something that tastes like coconut. He grabs some sort of kabob looking thing and takes a small bite. As soon as the flavor hits him, he’s bounding across the room waving the dish excitedly in Keith’s face shouting, “Dude you HAVE to try this, you’re gonna love it.”

It’s hot pink with green stripes an….fuzzy? Keith raises an eyebrow at the striped mammalian horror for a moment, then narrows his eyes at Lance. “It’s not going to turn me green or make me throw up is it?”

Lance rolls his eyes. “That was one time, get over it already. Nothing weird is going to happen, I just know you have a sweet tooth so I think you’ll like it.”

Keith is blindsided by the statement. How does Lance even know that? What the quiznak? He doesn’t realize he’s silently staring at Lance until the blue paladin is waving the food in his face once again. “Are you gonna try it or what?”

Keith brushes the surprise off; he’ll think about it later. “Um… yeah, sure. Stop trying to stab me in the face with it, jeez.”

Keith ends up eating 11 of the seussian skewers before they go back to the castle for the night.



“What are you nervous about?”

Keith’s posture stiffens. He didn’t even hear Lance enter the common room. “What makes you think I’m nervous?”

Lance climbs over the back of the couch to seat himself on it - because he can’t just be normal and walk around to sit like a normal person - before answering. “You’re staring off into space, ha, and messing with the Velcro on your gloves. You only do that when you’re nervous about something.”

“How do you even know that?!” The question tumbles out of Keith’s mouth without explicit permission.

Lance pulls his legs up to cross them and raises an eyebrow. “I pay attention, obviously.” He looks away before adding “So….what’s wrong.”

They talk for a while. It’s not a magic cure, but Keith doesn’t feel like the universe is completely falling apart afterwards. It’s…nice.

Pidge finds the t-shirt on one of their trips to the space mall. It says something along the lines of “Edge Lord” on it in an alien tongue and Pidge thought it was the most hilarious thing they had ever seen an immediately bought it. Keith wrinkles his nose at it, but leaves the room to pull it on anyways. He’s never really had a family, but Pidge is so much like a younger sibling and they looked so proud of the gift. He doesn’t want to let them down. So, he slips it on and marches back into the training deck, determined to not be embarrassed. Which meant that Lance had made his way into the room just before Keith returned, of course.

Lance actually does a double take before he’s consumed with laughter. Keith pouts. When the full body howling finally dies down to more of a giggle, Lance looks over at Pidge. “Is THAT the shirt you bought him?”

They grin, “Yup.”

“God bless you Pidge. I can’t believe you got him to wear it though, Keith hates the color orange.” There’s no time for Keith to wonder how it is that Lance became privy to that information because Lance gives him another look over and grins. “With good reason too. It’s definitely not your color dude.”

Keith immediately pulls the boot off of his left foot and chucks it at Lance’s head. He doesn’t actually throw it hard, but he also doesn’t miss. 

Hunk finds a shop that sells space candy on another trip to the space mall a few weeks after the t-shit incident. They look and taste like jelly beans and even come in a myriad of assorted colors. Everyone on the ship is basically obsessed with them. No one brings it up, but the space jellies, as lance loving calls them, remind everyone on the team of home. It’s bittersweet and Coran makes sure the kitchen is well stocked with them. 

It’s the middle of the night and Keith can’t sleep, so he drags himself to the kitchen for a midnight snack. Lo and behold, he notices a certain Cuban boy sitting on the counter tossing space jellies in the air and trying to catch them with his mouth. Lance’s antics are ridiculous, but they’re also kind of…. endearing? Keith shakes the thought from his head and rolls his eyes for good measure before making his way to the pantry. 

If it had been anyone else, there would have been at least three boxes left and a cold juice sitting there waiting for the taking. BUT it’s Keith, so that means the last box of space jellies is currently being consumed by Lance who rattles a half finished box and says, “Looking for these?”

When Keith turns to face him, Lance is grinning from ear to ear. It’s definitely not cute. “You took the last one.”

Lance’s smile doesn’t falter at Keith’s grumpy tone. “Sure did.”

Keith huffs and turns back to the pantry, resigns himself to grabbing a bag of little pea shaped things that taste like banana at first, but leave a burnt toast aftertaste. Pidge is obsessed with them, Keith doesn’t really get it but he needs something to snack on so he sits a the table and tears opens the bag.

A few minutes go by and the silence is only broken up by Lace humming a few bars of some song Keith has never heard before. He likes it though and he’ s almost tempted to ask Lance to hum it a little louder. But that’s weird. So he just stares at his pea things and occasionally places one in his mouth.

A box is suddenly placed in front of Keith as Lance slides onto the seat directly across from him smiling. “You like the black ones, right?” He says it with an air of confidence that only Lance possesses but there’s some sort of undertone to it that Keith can’t quite identify. Fondness maybe?

Keith shifts his gaze from the boy in front of him back down to the box of space jellies. There are quite a few of Keith’s preferred jellies in there and it almost seems like Lance had planned on saving all of them for Keith before he even came into the kitchen. Keith pushes the thought away and looks back up at Lance to mutter a thank you. When Lance smiles this time it’s blinding and genuine. Keith has to avert his gaze yet again, because when Lance gives him that specific brand of smile… his heart starts to do weird things.

The humming starts again and when Keith is done with his jellies they clean up and Lance walks him to his room. The “Goodnight” Lace utters before heading to his room is accompanied with a small wave and a soft smile. Keith falls back to sleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

They’re sitting side by side on the floor of the bridge staring upwards at the holographic image of Earth’s sun and all of the stars surrounding it. It doesn’t happen every night, not that there’s really a night or a day in space, either way they should both be asleep at these time none the less, but it’s not uncommon for one of them to find the other sitting by a window looking out at the endless space that surrounds them at all times now.

Sometimes they just sit together in comfortable silence. Sometimes they make up stupid constellations to make one another laugh. Occasionally they’ll both lay down next to each other as they look out a window at an unfamiliar planet and talk about all kinds of things in muted tones. 

Tonight though, there was something about the look in Lance’s eyes that made Keith take him by the wrist and lead him to the bridge to look at the familiar stars they’d both grown up staring at. 

Keith smiles as he points to another cluster and says, “That’s Lyra.”

Lace looks up. “It’s small.”

“Yep.” The red paladin nods. “It’s the 52nd constellation in order from largest to smallest, but Vega is part of the constellation and that’s the fifth brightest star in Earth’ s night sky.”

Lance pulls his legs to his chest and rests his chin on his knees. “Isn’t there a myth behind it about a musician or something?”

“Yeah, Orpheus. The story is pretty sad actually.”

Lance spares Keith a glance paired with a smirk before looking back at the hologram. A half smile shouldn’t twist Keith’s stomach like that, but it does. “Greek mythology usually is Keith.” There’s a brief pause before Lance turns back to Keith again and asks “Will you tell me the story?” 

This time Lance doesn’t look away. His gaze is fixed on Keith and the expression he’s making and the tone of voice he’s using isn’t quite as unfamiliar to Keith anymore as it was four months back. In fact, he gives Keith that look every night they sit together under the stars, and sometimes throughout the day when he thinks no one is looking, or when he catches Keith laughing at one of his jokes. Lance looks at Keith like precious, like he’s the most beautiful thing in the universe and it never fails to make Keith’s mouth go dry or increase his heartrate.

“You don’t want to hear me ramble about some random Greek tragedy.” He can’t look away from those eyes. Who awarded Lance the right to have such perfect blue eyes? They’re the pools of water you land in when you’ve followed the river down the waterfall and Keith has never been a strong swimmer. It’s not fair.

“I do.” Lance sounds so sincere. Why does he have to sound like that? Why is his voice so soft and fond? Two syllables came out of that mouth. Simple words, three letters, one space between the first and the last two when written down, and they still manage to knock the breath from Keith’ s lungs. 

When it’s just him and Keith, Lance is different. The obnoxious jokes, and the issuing of lame little competitions between the two of them, and the occasional bickering are all still there even when they’re alone. Keith just feels like there’s something…extra. Like bonus content you only get when you’ve purchased the collector’s edition of a game or something. Lance’s edges get softer and he’s more honest about what he’s feeling when no one else is in the room. He’s  a little more sincere, more prone to being serious, and it’s stunning.

“Please? I like to hear your voice.” Keith still can’t manage to tear his eyes away from the boy sitting next to him, and he knows. He knows that he’s beat red. It’s so, so embarrassing, but he still takes a deep breath when his lungs figure out how they’re supposed to work again and he starts telling the story. 

“So, you were right. Orpheus was a musician, but not like any run of the mill musician, he was the best harpist in all of Greece, even the gods acknowledged his talents.” Lance whistles and Keith tries very hard to not be distracted by the way his lips pucker to make the sound. “Umm…. So, on his wedding day his wife, Eurydice, got separated from the wedding party and got bit on the heel by a snake while she was running away from a Satyr with… less that pure intentions and died.”

“That’s awful.” It’ s almost a whisper.

“Yeah, it really is.” Keith pauses for a moment to silently mourn a fictional nymph. Which, okay yeah it’s probably dumb, but whatever. If Keith had learned anything in the last six months of constant warfare, it’s that patience yields focus and you should always respect the dead. He continues, “Anyways, Orpheus was so heartbroken that he decided to take a journey to the underworld to strike a bargain with Hades to get her back. So when he got there he just started playing this song, and it was so beautiful that even the stones around them start crying and it moved both Hades and his wife Persephone’s hearts or whatever, so Hades cut him a deal.”

“He told Orpheus that if he started walking to the gates of Hell Eurydice would follow behind him and be returned to the world of the living, but only if he didn’t look back at her until they were both out of Hades’ domain. So he walked and walked and had to keep reminding himself that no matter how much his heart told him to, he couldn’t look back. So, when he reached the upperworld he finally looked back, except he forgot to account for the fact that Eurydice could be farther than a foot behind him. She hadn’t reached the entry yet, so she was dragged back down to stay in the world of the dead.”

Lance makes a small sound, whining sound. It’s the same sound Lance always makes when he hears something sad or sees wounds on a comrade after a battle. Keith reaches a hand out to push Lance’s bangs back partly because he knows it’s the easiest way to sooth the blue paladin, and partly because it was an excuse to touch him.

He pulls his hand back, not without reluctance but he still has the rest of the story to tell and being mesmerized by Lance melting under his fingertips would be a little too distracting for Keith to remember how words work. “After that he only ever played sad music. There are a few different versions of how the myth ends, but the one that’s told most often is that in his grief he didn’t pay tribute to the god of wine and he was torn limb from limb as punishment. The muses carried his harp into the sky to form Lyra and immortalize Orphus’s tragedy in the night sky.”

All at once there’s a weight on Keith’s side that was not previously there. Lance had closed the small space between them so that he could rest his head against Keith’s should and lean into him. 

Lance makes an amused sound. “Of course your favorite constellation in the sky would be the one with the with the most depressing love story behind it.”

Keith furrows his brow. He’s been pointing out different constellations all night and he just doesn’t get how Lance picked out his favorite one so easily. His heart does something weird again. It’s painful and also…  pleasant? warm? nice? 

Keith does it too, though. Off of the top of his head he could tell you that Lance hates everything remotely flavored like cooked carrots, but will eat anything that tastes like raw ones. He could write poems about how Lance always worries his bottom lip with his teeth when he’s not quite sure what to say. He could almost list all of the names of the people in Lance’s absurdly large family in alphabetical order and tell you at least two facts about each one of them. Keith could tell you all about how Lance mumbles under his breath in Spanish when he’s scared or exhausted. It wouldn’t sound as pretty, but he could hum you all of the songs Lance sings when he’s happy.

Keith know without a shadow of a doubt why he remembers every tiny detail that Lance has ever revealed to him. There wasn’t a specific moment he realized he was in love with Lance, it had been happening slowly for a long time now. And, yeah, Keith thinks he has an idea as to  why Lance knows so many small truths about him too. He’s just… never asked for confirmation. So he plays with the velcro on his gloves for split second before deciding to take them off completely and setting them aside. He burns a hole in the projected image of Earth’s sun and bites the bullet.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

Lance lifts his head from Keith’s should and settles his chin in it’s place so that he gets a better view of Keith’s profile. “Doing what?”

Keith musters up the courage to turn his face and look directly into Lance’s eyes. Their noses are almost touching now. “Noticing all of these… I don’t know, these like, obscure little things about me that no one else notices. Like knowing I like black space jellies when I’ve never actually vocalized anything about that, or remember when Hunk tried to shove that plant in my face so I could smell it and you swatted it out of his hands because it looked like a tulip and you remembered I was allergic to them. Or knowing that my favorite color is blue and that my least favorite is burnt orange.”

“To be fair burnt orange is an awful color in general.”

“Okay, yeah, but you always know when I’m upset, or nervous, or happy because of some weird hand gesture that I usually don’t even know I’m doing until you point it out. Why do you know all of those things Lance? Why do you remember them?”

One of Lance’s eyebrows quirks up and he teases, “Do you really want to know?”

Keith let’s out an exasperated breath. “Well, I asked didn’t I? So yeah Lance, I want to know.”

The smirk falls off of Lace’s face and he shifts himself to sit on his feet so that his body is facing Keith’s. Lace keeps his eyes trained on the floor, looking like he’s waging some sort of internal battle, and when he finally looks back up at Keith there’s determination burning in his expression and maybe a little fear. 

Lance opens his mouth to speak…and then he closes it. He does this four times before bringing his folded hands up from his lap to cover his face. Lance complains into his hands in hushed Spanish. 

When he peaks out from between his fingers and then drops them uselessly back in his lap, his cheeks and ears are an adorable shade of red and he smiles at Keith sheepishly. “You know, for someone who talks so much, I’m really not all that great with words when it comes to stuff like this.” 

The words are accompanied by a self deprecating laugh. Keith frowns and tries to make his voice sound encouraging when he says “Take your time.”

Lance smiles, but there’s a bitter edge to it. “That’s the thing though, all I’ve been doing is taking my time. I’m kind of sick of it honestly. I keep trying to find the exact right words to say to you and I practice in my head and then as soon as I consider opening my mouth to say it, I just forget how to talk or I say something dumb. And it’s just so ridiculous, you know? Because it doesn’t have to be some drawn out dramatic speech like I keep telling myself. It’s actually just so stupidly simple and I don’t get why I’m so scared to mess it up. But really, how hard is it to say “because” and follow it up with three words? I look at you an I just…” Lance stares at him. “I just…” Lance lifts his hands and places them on either side of Keith’s face. 

Keith’s heart is trying to make its great escape by bludgeoning it’s way out of his chest. He’s pretty sure his entire rib cage is turning to dust and his body is down a set of lungs. They’ve just ceased existing. What are lungs? No clue, never heard of them.

“Keith.” Lance’s voice cracks just a little when he says the name and he swallows and starts again. “Keith. Keith Kogane. My buddy, my pal. I know that you have a sweet tooth, and that you love a good hug but don’t know how to ask for one when you need it. I know that you’re smart, and talented, and think butterscotch candies are the sole creation of the devil himself.”

Keith can’t help the laughter that escapes him and it makes Lance smile the way he always does when Keith so much as chuckles.

“I know that you have the best laugh I’ve ever heard. You have no idea how much I love that laugh. Seriously. I know you collect snow globes, and love conspiracy theories-”

“They’re not all just theories Lance, there’s a lot of evidence out -”

“Shhhhhh, you asked me a question and I’m trying to answer it and I’m kind of on a roll after mumbling for five minutes about how this wasn’t going to be some drawn out thing. But I’m just focusing on you instead of some practiced speech and I’m actually forming mildly coherent sentences, so be quiet. I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.”

“I know a bunch of tiny little facts about you, and yeah sure part of that is because I’m super observant and totally cool,” he winks, “but I notice all of those things specially about you because…” Lance swallows hard and takes a calming breath. “I lo-”

Keith has been told many times that he gives into impulses too quickly, that he’s too impatient. And…yeah, it’s true, absolutely, and he’s working on it. No, really, he is! Try as he might though, he couldn’t handle another second of wanting to kiss Lance and not doing it when the opportunity clearly presented itself. 

It’s not the smoothest first kiss, but it’s not all teeth and bumping noses either, and it leads into soft drawn out kisses, and kisses that can barely even be called that because the two of them are grinning so wide. 

When Keith pulls away a faux pouty expression take over Lance’s face. “You didn’t even let me finish.” He starts to waggle his eyebrows in the most obnoxious way possible and says “These lips were just irresistible huh? I guess I’m just too smoochable.”

How the hell does Keith find this so cute? 

“Hey, Keith?” 

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Hey Buddy

Originally posted by dean-sam-winchesterbros

Request: Hey! Congrats on your writing anniversary! I was wondering if you could write a Dean x reader, where reader ran off not knowing she was pregnant, and Sam brings her back with their 2 year old. Dean should be mad, but really he’s just glad she’s back. Smut please? 

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,600ish

Warnings: minor language, smut


Keep reading

ZUTARA FIC RECS

i love zutara & i hold a special place in my heart for my favourite zutara fics. i’m usually very picky when it comes to fanfiction - i love fics where the language flows beautifully and where the gaang is all in character. there are more, but here are just some of my favourites:


multi-chapter:

once around the sun || (my favourite)

Later, Katara can see how it all fell apart. Azula in her cell, growing roses; Zuko surrounded by enemies, slowly dying; their friends in the Earth Kingdom, safely escaping. And herself at the centre of it, saving lives and breaking promises. Set after finale, eventual Zutara.

tempest in a teacup || 

Fate puts Katara in the Fire Nation to grow up in the company of a Dragon, a prince, and a lot of good tea. AU Zutara…of a sort.

the black games || 

Once bound by ice, now bound by fire. 12 provinces. 24 tributes. 1 winner. Let the games begin.

begin the end ||

The moment the chains are secure around Azula’s wrists, Katara breaks out into a run. Her boots slap against the stones and each step echoes mockingly in the empty plaza: too late, too late. Panic squeezes her heart as she sees him lying crumpled on the ground, and she wishes for just that moment that she were an airbender so that she might get to him faster…

clothe me in seasons, dress me in snow ||

“It is not the memorial she deserves, nor the one she would want. But it can’t be helped. He owns no property in the other nations, and he needed to keep her close. Closer than she was in life, anyway.” Zuko’s reflections on a life lived and a life that could have been. Told in four arcs: melancholy, slow dancing, unrequited, and cobalt blue/vigil.


drabbles/one-shots:

sokka’s field guide series || 

Sokka schools Zuko on the ladies.

through the looking glass and unrequited || 

A collection of Zutara drabbles and story arcs.

and other fairly stupid tales || 

A collection of humorous and crack-tastic oneshots corresponding to the days of Zutara Month.

we hold our hearts in silence ||

Seventy years later, Korra tries to figure out Zuko and Katara. — zutara, canon compliant.

falling || 

The ceiling collapsed, and he sprinted to push her away. Suki was safe, but Katara just stood there. And then she was gone. He hadn’t been fast enough. An AU from the beginning of TSR through just after EIP. 

as time passes by || 

“The dawn of your new nation will come as quickly as the sun has set on your father’s empire.” Zuko’s first year as Fire Lord does not go as he expects.

tremors || 

She’s free to choose- if she goes back to the Poles, if she travels, if she stays in the Fire Nation just a little bit longer. She can choose to go back to the life she would have led if she’d never revived the Avatar, or she can choose to forge a new path. And she chooses him.

beyond lost ||

It’s the end, isn’t it? — Zutara. Pre-Season III.

as if death itself was undone ||

Z/K Finale AU “‘It’s not right to linger like this,’ says the Death Spirit. 'I don’t want to leave her,’ Zuko says. 'They never do.’” After being struck by Azula’s lighting, Zuko rejects death.

death by a thousand cuts ||

All these moments and memories are cracks, fractures that run and creep through Zuko’s mind. The finishing blow was having her smile to him on her wedding day. He broke then.

Oh~

Originally posted by noctass

Just dating Ignis Scientia things:

  • Oh man. Dis mofo slick. I mean you can’t tell me you don’t get even a little bit giddy seeing him be a professional. Don’t fall for the trap of thinking he’s just an empty suit. A lot of people think he’s all work, no play, super boring, but those people are so wrong. Ignis is great and gets better over the time you get to know him. He is loyal, diligent and suave with very little of the vanity and ego of the other three guys. He’s witty, knows the best time to drop jokes and puns and and clever little jokes and observations. Ignis Scientia is just the absolute worst because he’s perfect; good looks, good heart, great smarts. You’ve got no chance if he decides he wants to woo you.

  • Like with Prompto and Gladio, you have to understand what Ignis has been groomed for and that’s supporting Noctis, the royal family and Insomnia pretty much first and foremost. His role is critical when it comes to any kind of success. Understand that during moments of crisis or urgency, your boyfriend might have to postpone his time with you. Don’t ever assume he does this easily. It breaks his heart every damn time. He knows how difficult it is to be with him, someone who has so much responsibility. Every time he disappoints you, Ignis is scared you’re tempted to leave him. Prove Specs wrong and support him as much as you can.

  • Ignis never leaves you wanting for anything. If he can look after three man-children, one of which is a picky pretty-boy prince, he can bloody well look after you. He treats you more like royalty than he does with Noct, to be honest. Ignis is also very observant when it comes to your well-being and he takes care of you without really saying anything. If you’re looking cold, suddenly his jacket is around your shoulders. If he’s seeing signs of you getting hungry, there’s suddenly a delicious meal within your grasp (sometimes it’s your favourite depending on how cranky you’re getting). If you’re working hard and looking exhausted, but you need to push on for deadlines, you’ll have coffee, you’ll have snacks, you’ll have whatever you need to keep going. Ignis just knows how to take care of you without being overbearing or intrusive. He saves that shit for the three man-children.

  • Affection with Ignis is just… beautiful. It’s got a classic romantic flavour, it’s sweet, it’s mature. It’s a lot of little things he does to show that he cares a lot about you. Lots of hand holding and gentle kisses against your palm. Ignis is 100% the kind of guy to hold your hand while driving, by the way. The guys give him shit for it, but they might be kind of jealous. You’ll get random gifts sometimes, out of the blue without any words just a sweet, knowing smile. Sometimes you’ll have flowers sent to your work or something. Ignis does all of these things because he love that shy grin you get when he does this stuff. Your blush is the cutest. Smooch Iggy as much as you can to reward him <3

  • Okay, so you’re right in thinking that Ignis isn’t petty, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t got the ability to be. Though when he’s petty, it is fucking savage. For example, one day the guys are just absolutely unbearable. Sometimes it gets like that over stupid shit. Usually you can step in and calm everyone down, but they’re beyond help. Ignis, being clever and straightforward, decides he’s had enough. He very loudly declares, to your embarrassment, “We fucked in the Regalia once.” There is a deafening silence as Ignis takes you by the hand and leaves without any explanation.

    Ignis is a genius because the boys immediately stop bickering. Was he joking? Wait, when did you fuck in the Regalia? When was there time? The boys are hardly without either Ignis or the car, so…? WHEN? HOW? Were they in the car after?! Oh god, was it front seat or backseat? They freak out over Ignis’ declaration. The perfect part of this whole ordeal is that eventually one of the boys thinks ‘maybe Ignis is joking, he probably is, we should ask’, but neither you or Ignis confirm or deny if he was telling the truth.

    The boys are kept in perpetual suspense. At this point, they don’t even care if you guys had fucked in the car, they just need to know if it happened or not, but they will receive no respite. Ignis keeps his lips sealed, as do you. The boys are kept in a state of limbo regarding answers and they are reminded of that dreaded, possibly true, declaration every time they see the Regalia.

    Noctis is the Lucian King, but Ignis Scientia is the fucking King of petty when the situation calls for it.