A/N: Look who finally finished part 11! But also real talk though, seeing a professional doesn’t make you weak or lesser as a
person. BUT not all types of help work for everyone and I strongly
encourage anyone going through stuff to find a way of support and recovery that
works for them. Take care of yourself, you guys <3
You’d been hunched over your desk, absorbed in your work when a knock at the door pulled you out of your thoughts. Leaning back in your chair, you set down your pen and listened. The knock sounded again and you called out to FRIDAY, letting Sam in.
He’d been visiting you regularly over the past few days and as he entered the room you noticed the disapproving look he threw you. You weren’t surprised; you knew exactly why he was upset. He hated it when you buried yourself in work, yet there you were doing just that: anything to distract yourself.
You let out a small sigh and closed the binder in front of you, turning to face the older man.
“Hey.” You greeted, voice hoarse from lack of use.
“Hey,” he replied. “How are you doing?”
Sam took a seat on the edge of your bed and you shrugged. There was a pause and you opened your mouth to speak, but Sam beat you to it.
can we just take a moment to imagine what it would be like if B squad and Girl squad are at another party together and every time Yousef tries to speak to Sana she redirects the conversation to talk about Noora and then finally Yousef gets so flustered and frustrated he blurts out, “I don’t want Noora, I want–” and then he stops himself but it’s too late bc she realises that he’s talking about her and it just hurts them both more because they know what they’d have to sacrifice to be able to be together and i just think you should all leave me alone to die
A/N: The long awaited part three. Sorry it took so long to put up.
“Here put this on your jaw” You told Reggie as you handed him a bag of frozen peas from your freezer. There was a nasty purple bruise starting to form from where Archie had hit him hours before. That wasn’t all as his eye was starting to swell shut also.
“Are you serious?” Reggie asked bewildered.
“You’re a football player, are you telling me that you never had to put something frozen on you before?” You huffed. Reggie shook his head and grumbled something under his breath and placed the peas on his jaw but not for long as he hissed the minute it touched.
“Reg, I know it’s hurts but if you want the swelling to go down you’ll handle the pain”
“Whatever” He placed it back on his jaw and laid back on his bed, closing his eyes or his eye to forget the pain.
“What happened anyway?” You asked after a moment of silence, fingers running through his hair.
“I know that smart one but why? How did you guys start fighting in the first place? Was it about me?”
“Obviously babe, no offensive. I umm.. I was the one who started it”
“You what?” You asked shocked, you knew Reggie was a shit starter but you didn’t think he would of done it with your brother knowing what had went down.
“I’m sorry you know but I couldn’t let it go on any longer. I can’t stand to see you so upset and this fight between you guys was killing you. You can’t tell me it wasn’t because I know it was.” You let out a breath you didn’t know that you were holding. He had done it for you but it didn’t make it any better. “I knew how to push Archies buttons so I did. Don’t punish him for this, just me” You shook your head at Reggie and let a smile come across your face.
“I’m not happy about this but honestly what did you say?” Reggie sighed before he answered
“The boys were talking crap. I didn’t understand at the time but Jughead did so when he teased me I got pissed. Archie could tell and try to stop but I led them on, saying things about how good you’re in bed. I knew he would fight me then. Who would want someone talking about their sister that way.”
“You’re idiot sometimes you know that right?”
“Yeah the pain proves it”
“It’s the thought that counts babe so thank you for that. No matter what you said about me I still love you”
“I love you too but you really need to talk to Andrews. I’ll be fine so go on” Reggie said trying to push you off the bed.
“Are you sure?” You asked getting to your feet, and fixing your wrinkled dress.
“Yes go” You gave Reggie a kiss on his cheek before you headed out on your walk back home. This would give you some time to think everything over in your head before you met with reality.
“I’m home” You shouted as you walked into your house. It’s been days since you been here and it felt nice.
“About time” You looked up to see where the sound came from and saw Archie standing in the kitchen, icing his hand.
“You got a mean punch” You said jokily trying to break this uncomfortable mood.
“Serious? You’re going to make jokes” Archie just shook his head and try to push his way out of the kitchen but you blocked the way.
“I just want you to lighten up”
“Me really? Nice going sis” He passed you and headed for the stairs.
“Please I just want to talk” Archie turned to face you again, his face was clearly showing anger.
“What could you possibly have to say to me? That you hooked up with the one person I can’t stand or is it that YOU LOVE HIM? Please if you want to talk just do it already because we both know you’re mad at me.”
“Seems like it’s just you mad at me” You let out and Archie just rolled his eyes, not really knowing what to do. “I’m not mad at you. I know why you guys were fighting”
“Reggie?” You nodded.
“He told me he started it because he couldn’t stand to see us fight anymore. I’m sorry Arch I really am. I never meant for any of this to happened. It was supposed to be a one time thing that came from too much alcohol but it turned more” It was true Reggie and you had hooked up at Cheryl party over the summer and from there it turned into love. Hook ups at parties turned into late nights at Pop’s and sitting down by the river telling each others, your guys hopes and dreams. It was never suppose to be anything more but you found something you didn’t want to let go of.
“I love him Arch and nothing is going to change that. Not you, not dad, not anyone. I’m not going to wish for anyone else because he’s all I need and I’m not sorry for that.” Archie stare at you but not with wide eyes just his normal look. He was speechless from everything you had said. The look in your eyes as you talked about Reggie made him feel sorrow and guilt from all of the events that had happened lately. He didn’t like it but at the end of the day he wanted his sister by his side even if it meant dealing with the one person he couldn’t stand.
“Forgive me?” You begged with tears forming in your eyes from your anxiety.
“Only if you forgive me” Archie said with a smile on his face and he held out his hand that wasn’t injury. You took it and hugged him tightly.
“Were even then”
“So ummm Pizza?” You asked
“If you’re paying” You were already in the kitchen getting the phone when Archie spoke up
“Maybe you could invited Reggie?” He said with a shugg.
“Probably wouldn’t be able to see to get here.” Archie laughed at your respond
“Yeah I guess I hit him a little too hard”
“Just a little” You knew then that everything was going to be okay in the Andrews household even when Mantle came around.
Oh my god yes. Enemies to friends to loves is my all time favourite trope i am so here for this i love it. Can I ask for "You come to the restaurant I work at and choose me as your waiter(ess) every time just to annoy me and I can’t do anything in retribution or I’ll get fired AU" or "Just got caught under the mistletoe with my arch-nemesis and now everything is slow changing between us AU"? Pretty please? ilu goodbye
This is my completely inappropriate Christmas-in-March fic!
“Move it,” Steve says, trying to shove past Bucky from Marketing.
“Jeez,” Bucky from Marketing says. “The eggnog will keep.”
Steve shoots Bucky from Marketing a look over his glasses. “You’re standing in the middle of the doorway,” he says. “You’ve been standing in the middle of the doorway for eight minutes.”
“That’s an exaggeration,” Bucky from Marketing mutters.
“And,” Steve continues, refusing to be silenced, “I’ve been trying to get by but you’ve been ignoring me.”
“So go by,” Bucky from Marketing says, rolling his eyes.
“You. Are. In. The. Way.” Steve spits.
“I. Am. Not. Moving.” Bucky from Marketing responds, in turn.
“Fine,” Steve says, pushing again, which would probably be more effective if Steve weren’t barely hitting five-four and if Bucky from Marketing didn’t work out so much (which Steve only knows because he comes into work with his sweaty gym bag).
And that’s when he hears Darcy from Accounting go, “OOOOOOOOOH.” He looks up, but it’s too late. Half the party is looking at him and Bucky from Marketing. “We got two losers underneath the mistletoe!”
Steve looks up at Bucky from Marketing, who is looking down at him and…
Is blushing. Like, a lot.
Bucky from Marketing’s jaw twitches. “Can it, Darcy,” he says, eyes darting over to Darcy from Accounting, then back down to Steve. “So, uh, you, uh…”
He’s a stuttering mess, and Steve frowns. “Is the idea of kissing me really that bad?” he asks.
“What?” Bucky from Marketing asks, voice cracking a little. “No!”
“Then kiss me,” Steve says, putting a hand on his hip. “I mean, having this mistletoe at an office party is a ridiculous notion, but whatever. It’s fine. Kiss me.”
Bucky from Marketing just sort of gapes.
“Fine,” Steve says, “then I’ll do it.”
And then he goes up on his tiptoes and does.
Bucky from Marketing is tense, so Steve doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He kisses him, waits a few seconds, then pulls away. “There,” he says. “Hope that wasn’t too painful for you.”
“No, not… It wasn’t painful, not at all! But I, uh, gotta, uh, I gotta go over there,” Bucky from Marketing says, then practically leaps out of the doorway and towards Natasha from Sales at the other end of the room.
“The fuck?” Steve asks.
Darcy from Accounting saunters up to Steve and gives him a high-five. “Hell yeah,” she says. “Look at you!”
“Uh, thanks?” Steve says.
“So, are you in love? Are you gonna get married? Have little Barnes-Rogerses bouncing around the living room?” she asks.
“Don’t think so,” Steve says. “He didn’t seem too interested.”
Darcy from Accounting raises an eyebrow and chuckles. “You’re joking, right?” she asks. Steve doesn’t bother responding, just gives her an impressed look. “He’s been pining after you since last quarter, maybe even before that. I think he was waiting under there in the hopes that you’d come by and he could sweep you off your tiny, Chuck Taylor-clad feet.”
“You’re joking,” Steve says.
She shrugs. “Better ask him,” she says in a sing-song voice.
Out of morbid curiosity, Steve looks over to where Bucky from Marketing and Natasha from Sales are standing, talking to each other with a sort of intense, quiet urgency. He watches them for a second, then nearly flinches when Bucky from Marketing looks his way. He’s still blushing.
Normally, Steve would look away, but this time he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles.
Looking almost confused, Bucky from Marketing smiles back.
“Well,” Steve says, “I guess I could use someone to get me a glass of eggnog, and Bucky is standing close to the buffet.”
“That’s the spirit,” Darcy from Accounting says. “And a true Christmas miracle.”
“I’m an atheist,” Steve says.
“It’s the spirit of the thing!” Darcy from Accounting argues.
“Fine,” Steve says, heading towards the eggnog and Bucky from Mar—
Summary: Y/N was sent to live with The Stark family at a young age, and ever since then, she seemed to fit perfectly, maybe even more than she had ever noticed.
Warnings: I just watched the episode so fluff to the max
Word Count: 2,433
A/N: I am so pleased to see how many of you like the first part to this, and I sincerely hope that the second part is even better! Special shoutout to @secretschuylersister for looking over this/encouraging me to actually post it. If you have any requests, please feel free to send them to my ask box!
It was nice of Sansa to say that she was almost done poking and prodding and adjusting your dress, even if you all knew that it was a lie. Sansa had and affinity for dressing you up, claiming that if she tried it with Arya, she would lose a finger. You couldn’t say that the idea was entirely off base.
The dress was lovely. It looked a bit delicate in comparison to the usual style that ladies favored in Winterfell. It was somehow different and you’re the same as the dresses that you favored on an everyday basis. Although you had lived in Winterfell for most of your life, your mother and father had lived much farther south.
So, you tended to favor lighter dresses, made of silk and lace in a wide array of colors. Jon liked to tease you that you were the brightest thing to ever live in Winterfell. What you didn’t know is how much Robb silently agreed with him. The dress was white, with layers of gray peeking through towards the bottom. It was lovely, although you had no idea how Sansa had managed such a lovely effect in the short amount of time since she had asked you about making a dress.
“I may have been working on it for a little while before I asked if it was okay,” she said, picking it up off of the bed and motioning for you to change into it. “But I knew that you were going to say yes anyways.”
You laughed, she was right. You had a hard time telling people no, especially when they were doing something so nice for you. After all, the Starks were your family. And if they were willing to put the time in to help you, then there was no way that you were going to refuse. It did make your schedule feel a bit cramped at times, in between dagger lessons with Arya and the boys, knitting with Sansa and tea with Lady Stark, who was forever insisting that you call her Catelyn, there were never enough hours in the day, something you often fought about with Robb.
“Well then, put it on!” Sansa laughed, tossing you the dress and pulling out her needle and thread, claiming that there were a few alterations that needed to be made. Sansa worked in silence, adding a few stitches here and there. And somehow, when she was done, the dress looked even more spectacular. She had managed to somehow make it fit you like a glove at the top, yet have the perfect amount of sway and flow in the skirts.
“Thank you, Sansa,” you said, admiring the skirts in her mirror. If you hadn’t been so caught up in how nice it was for Sansa to make you this lovely dress, you might have noticed the smug look on her face as she admired you admiring her dress. And you might have noticed that you were wearing in the Stark family’s colors. “But I really think that I should go see if your mother needs help preparing-”
“I was downstairs with her all morning. While you were fretting over nothing, I was making sure that you didn’t have an excuse to run away.” She laughed, guiding you over to the chair that was set up in front of her mirror. “Now, you have to stay and let me do something with this.” She sighed, motioning to the braid that you wore every day. Sansa took your braid in her hands, making quick work of fanning it out across your shoulders, running a brush gently through the ends or your hair.
“I cannot understand why you never take the time to style your hair unless I force you to. You know that anyone would do anything for you.” Sansa rain her hands through your hair, twisting it one way and then another, attempting to choose a style for that evening.
“I would rather spend my time with other engagements. And I’m sure that every single person in this castle has at least five things that they need to be doing at any given time. And shockingly, none of them include helping me with my hair.” You laughed, raising an eyebrow at her in the mirror.
“And does one of those things include pretending that you aren’t in love with my brother? Or is that simply a given, considering it is something that you do every waking minute of every day?”
You felt yourself tense, your shoulders locking back into place and your teeth grinding against each other. Sansa, on the other hand, continued brushing your hair into place, humming a soft tune to herself. You wished that you had an appropriate comeback, but you were left to sit there, mouth agape, while Sansa fussed with your hair for longer than should have been possible.
You’d hoped that you would have a bit of time to yourself before the feast that evening, but Sansa had insisted that a bit of rouge had never hurt anyone. By the time that she decided you were ready, the both of you were late.
“A queen never arrives at her own party on time.” Sansa laughed as you hurried down the hall. You hated to be late, and it seemed that the only time you were more than a few seconds late to anything was when Sansa insisted on helping you get ready.
“Then it’s really too bad that I am not a queen.” you reminded her, withholding a glare.
She snorted at you in a very un Sansa-like way, simply brushing past you and breezing easily into the banquet. You, on the other hand, were not nearly as confident. You took a moment to steady yourself, a moment to catch your breath, before stepping into the banquet hall.
The noise and liveliness of the hall erupted around you, pulling you in. You glanced around, taking in the musicians and the dancers that took up most of the space in the large banquet hall. And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were elated to see Robb standing with Jon and Theon near the edge of the dance floor.
You gathered up your expansive skirts, making your way along the edge of the room to the boys.
“Well don’t you just look dashing in the Stark colors?” Jon teased you, gesturing for you to do a twirl.
You landed a punch on his arm, not hard enough to actually hurt him, but firm enough to tell him to shut his big mouth, paired with an expression that told him you were going to pretend to be cross with him for a while. “If you must know, your lovely sister made me this gown, and as usual I had no say about the colors. But, I’m sure that it is just coincidence.” You attempted to sound sincere, even though you knew what Sansa was most likely thinking when she was picking out the material.
You pretended to listen to the boys ramble on about one thing or another, but your eyes were scanning the room in search of Arya. You knew that she was not particularly fond of feasts, so you always made a point to seek her out and reassure her, even if it was only for a few minutes. After few moments of searching, you spotted her, slumped into a chair, looking like she would much rather be anywhere else but here.
You felt Robb’s hand rest on the small of your back, attempting to draw your attention away from the very important matter at hand. “Y/N, do you want to-”
“Maybe in a minute, Robb,” you said, already making your way over to Arya, not even bothering to look back towards the sound of Jon’s booming laughter.
“Arya!” you laughed, taking her hands in your own and pulling her out of the chair. “Won’t you come and dance with me?”
“You know that I have been skipping my lessons,” she mumbled, refusing to meet your eyes. Somehow, she was in a worse mood than usual.
“I never said that we were going to make our way through the most boring waltz in existence.” You were already halfway to the band, who looked almost as morose as Arya, which wasn’t surprising when you thought about the music that they were being forced to play. “If this is to be the mood for the entire evening, we are all going to die of boredom.”
You let go of Arya’s hands for a few moments to whisper your instructions to the band. They all seemed to perk up immediately, sitting up in their chairs, the light coming back into their eyes. The tune changed from the sullen one that you had grown accustomed to hearing, to one that was jubilant and full of life. Reclaiming Arya’s hands in your own, your spun her around, prancing around in ridiculous circles until a smile finally graced her lips, and then a small laugh bubbled through, and you knew that your work was done.
You gave her one last smile, twirling her in another circle before stumbling off of the dance floor. All of the spinning had made you a bit dizzy, and with all of the skirts that Sansa had swaddled you up in, you weren’t surprised that you had nearly tripped a few times before you had even made it away from the dancers.
Robb’s hand found the small of your back, guiding you away from the mass of bodies that had swarmed the dance floor. You would have been surprised, especially because you hadn’t thought that Robb was anywhere near you, but he had a habit of turning up when you needed someone.
“What was it that you wanted earlier?” You asked breathlessly, collapsing into the chair that he had guided you to.
“Do you remember when my mother was so angry at us for sneaking into these feasts that she made us attend all of those dreadful dancing lessons?” Robb asked, smiling at Arya dancing with Rickon among the masses.
“Of course I do,” you laughed, recalling the many afternoons you had spent with your slightly nasty dance master. “Your mother was so sure that we would never turn up to another ball again if we had to take those lessons, but you were at every single lesson.”
“Naturally, you were so excited, and there was no way that I was going to miss it when you tripped over your own two feet.”
“If I recall correctly, you were always responsible for catching me after I messed up a new step.” You lazily punched him in the shoulder, but the laughter died in your throat as Robb caught your fist and linked his hand with yours.
“And I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
It wasn’t the act of holding his hand in yours that caused your breathing to falter. You had been holding pinkies since you had met, so after that, what was a hand? It was the way that his eyes were staring into yours, unwavering. For the first time in a long time, you felt yourself blushing because of Robb Stark.
It wasn’t something that happened often, the two of you had grown up together, after all. Your mother had been best friends with Cat, and when they passed away, it was no question that you were going to stay with Ned and his family.
You had been quiet when you arrived at Winterfell for the first time. It had only been a day or two since your mother and father had moved on, taken from you suddenly by a terrible affliction. You were assured that your friends would all be waiting for you, but that wasn’t good enough. You wanted your parents.
And even though you constantly reminded Robb of that, he was there for you at every turn. Bringing you a flower he found near a spring, hoping to make you smile, or telling you a poorly thought out joke, just waiting for just a glimpse of the dimples he used to know so well. And as much as you wanted to give him a glimpse of your former self, you needed time. Somehow, even at such a young age, both of you understood. And you had remained solemn, until one afternoon, he heard a giggle echoing from her chambers.
Robb threw open the door to find you sifting through a drawer full of dried flowers, picking them up one by one and examining them. He marched into the room, demanding to know why you had been so sad before. You never had been able to give him an answer, simply handing him one of the flowers and telling him that you were sorry. You never had offered him an explanation for those first few weeks.
“Y/N?” Robb’s voice and both of his hands cupping yours somehow managing to effectively draw you back to reality. “Are you okay?” his voice was soft, almost as if he was afraid to scare you away. He should know better than that by now.
“I was thinking about when I first came to live with you, well everyone. And you worried yourself over making me feel welcome, and you were so confused when you found me with that drawer full of flowers.” You sounded dreamy, still thinking about the days when things felt easier.
“You never did tell me why you kept all of those flowers. Especially when they never made you smile in the first place.” He smiled down at your hands, where his thumb was stroking the back of your hand.
“Because I knew that they were going to make me happy eventually,” You met his eyes, hoping that he understood what you were trying to tell him. “And I was right, wasn’t I?” Robb looked like he was going to answer, but you were finished wasting time moping about when there was a party going on. “Let’s dance, Stark.”
And without another word, the two of you were out of your chairs and headed for the dance floor. The musicians had kept their promise, and the music was lively. You were pleased to see that Arya had dragged Sansa into a group of dancers, and it brought a smile to your face to see that everyone was happy, for the time being. It was rare to stumble upon a moment where someone wasn’t squabbling, and when you managed to find one, you most certainly weren’t going to take it for granted.
victuuri week | day four: free for all. in which viktor, an honest-to-god vampire, shows up in a tacky dracula costume during a halloween party. enter this hottie in a slutty waiter costume.
some headcanons for this au: (1) they meet at a halloween party, where a totally wasted yuuri grinds into his long-time crush; (2) there is a lot of biting and blood-drinking because yuuri’s blood is fucking delicious; (3) yuuri really likes to bite viktor too. ( 6 u 6 );;
let’s face it–this ain’t a real ship if it don’t have vampire aus lmfao. someone end me i’m sorry.
Requested by anon: Hiii! I was wondering
if you could write a charles x reader where y/n doesn’t know that he is a
mutant and he shows his powers for the first time?? fluff please thank you,
have a nice day ❤❤❤ (sorry for the english, this is not my first language)
Not my gif
Warnings: fem!reader, typos, cheesy af
A/N: So, this came out as a Valentine’s themed fic, because I’m trash and I couldn’t help myself. I hope it’s not too cheesy to read. (Also, yes, I am aware that I have just posted a fic like 10 minutes ago and before that, I hadn’t in two weeks, but again… I’m trash, what can I do?) Enjoy! xoxo
It was ten to five and you were
really nervous. Something – maybe just a gut feeling, maybe the way Charles had
been acting lately – told you that this date would definitely end with a bang
of some sort. You hadn’t seen your boyfriend in almost two weeks, last at his
presentation and the party afterwards. He had ringed you up once or twice, but
other than that, there had been no contact, which wasn’t like Charles at all.
You had always been the more diffident one out of the two of you He was Mr Make-a-move.
And him pulling back like this made you feel more self-conscious than you
wanted to admit. You had been dating for almost half a year and surely he
wouldn’t break up with you on Valentine’s Day, you had told yourself. But the
closer it got to 5 pm, the less sure you were about that.
You heard a knock at the door and
forced yourself not to run. He hadn’t told you about his plans, but mentioned
that you might want to put on something nice. He had also said that you looked
beautiful in everything, but that hadn’t stopped you from going all out – well,
your interpretation of it. Your dress was dark red and hugged your curves
beautifully. And by the look in Charles’ eyes you could tell that you had made
the right choice. He looked very handsome himself in his dark suit with the