and he wonders if he might be dreaming

To those who say Jonerys will never happen in the books, just a quick reminder Dany has been dreaming of him, even if she has not seen his face yet…

Lying abed in her narrow bunk, she found herself wondering how it would be to have a man squeezed in beside her in place of her handmaid, and the thought was more exciting than it should have been. Sometimes she would close her eyes and dream of him, but it was never Jorah Mormont she dreamed of; her lover was always younger and more comely, though his face remained a shifting shadow.

Daenerys, ACOK

He was who he was; Jon Snow, bastard and oathbreaker, motherless, friendless, and damned. For the rest of his life –however long that might be– he would be condemned to be an outsider, the silent man standing in the shadows who dares not speak his true name

Jon, AGOT

The flames crackled softly, and in their crackling she heard the whispered name Jon Snow. His long face floated before her, limned in tongues of red and orange, appearing and disappearing again, a shadow half-seen behind a fluttering curtain.

Melisandre, ADWD

Jon’s face and presence is often referred to as being in the shadows, he’s always been the outsider, watching the Stark children play and even if he did play himself sometimes, he tried his best to avoid irritate Lady Stark, so he kept it to himself, as the bastard he was pained to be. 

Melisandre’s visions of him, from R’hllor himself is described as Jon’s shadow hidden…It’s not SO subtle how he’s always referred to be hidden there. 


A quick reminded that when he died, she listened to Ghost’s cries…from across THE NARROW SEA…

“Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger’s hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. “Ghost,” he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold … “

Jon, ADWD

“Off in the distance, a wolf howledThe sound made her feel sad and lonely, but no less hungry. As the moon rose above the grasslands, Dany slipped at last into a restless sleep.“

Daenerys, ADWD

These chapters happen at the same time, how can Daenerys Targaryen, in Meeren, listen to Jon’s murder at the Wall, North of Westeros, if not for the bond they have…without ever meeting. Call it soulmates, fate, whatever you want. Martin does not use words he does not think necessary nor he adds information that the story does not need. If you ever read one his books, you’ll know he’s sharp and everything means something, even the puzzles and riddles thrown our way. Daenerys heard his soul, Ghost’s cries (perhaps his own, warg ones), and she felt sad over it, not even knowing why.


A reminder that when Dany was at the House of the Undying, she only saw important, relevant things. Not only to herself, but to the realm: the rape of Westeros, The Red Wedding, the madness of Aerys Targaryen demanding to burn Kings Landing, Rhaegar and Elia talking of Aegon and his promised song, the fake dragon (Faegon, am I right?), Hardhome, what her son’s future would have been like, White Walkers, Rhaegar’s murmuring a woman’s name right before he died (we all assume is Lyanna’s, I guess we’ll find out eventually), and there are others, but to me it means a lot that one of these visions is:

a blue flower growing from a chink in a wall of ice, filling the air with sweetness.

Daenerys, ACOK

Oh, she also sees the red door of the house she loved and she remembers growing up, and she believed it was in Braavos. She only had important sights for the realm and herself, yet she sees a blue flower growing at the wall (if you don’t think this means Jon Snow growing at the Wall, we can’t be friends and you can’t even read this, bye! JK haha…but come on, Lyanna is said to have loved winter roses, which are blue…the same ones that composed the crown Rhaegar Targaryen crowned her with, as The Queen of Love and Beauty at the Tourney of Harrenhal. Jon lives, works, serves at the Wall, it doesn’t get any more obvious than this, y’all…only if Martin wrote she saw a ‘hot northmen with gorgeous hair at Castle Black, really…”). 

(whoever did this second gif, thank you so very much, this is beautiful <3)

So not only does this shows how important Jon is to the realm (remember how her visions are all important, not only to her but also to Westeros? *inserts my theory of them both being AA* But he’s also important to her, the flower is not just THERE, it also fills the air with sweetness, it pleases her. Do I need to say more? 


This one is very meaningful if not very telling, to me. They both feel alone, like something is missing. One can even say “they feel alone cause they are alone”, but they were not. It almost feels like there is someone out there, a better match. 

Beneath her coverlets she tossed and turned, dreaming that Hizdahr was kissing her … but his lips were blue and bruised, and when he thrust himself inside her, his manhood was cold as ice. She sat up with her hair disheveled and the bedclothes atangle. Her captain slept beside her, yet she was alone.

Daenerys, ADWD

Jon wondered where Ghost was now. Had he gone to Castle Black, or was he was running with some wolfpack in the woods? He had no sense of the direwolf, not even in his dreams. It made him feel as if part of himself had been cut off. Even with Ygritte sleeping beside him, he felt alone.

Jon, ASOS

their story is a never ending parallel.

Not to disrespect Ygritte, cause I think she was necessary to Jon’s growth. She was a great character and I do believe Jon loved her, at some point. But just like Daenerys, this love was not a choice, it was almost like a survival choice, they made the best out of a bad situation. 

He had to be with Ygritte, or Mance would have killed him, he would not believe Jon had really deserted the Night’s Watch. Ygritte wasn’t Jon’s act of rebellion, like I once read at a meta, no, she was, at first, his sacrifice/way to fill his mission. But somewhere along the way, he fell in love with her, she was strong, funny, and she awoke the sexuality in him. Again, he had to be with her, to prove himself, but it also wasn’t like he didn’t like it. 

Daenerys loved Khal Drogo? Yeah, but it was as forced as was Jon and Ygritte. One can say it was even worse for she did not go willing, she was pushed into it, sold like a slave, to get her brother an army (we do have to thank karma cause his army never came, boo-ya, sucker!). She was given to a stranger, a savage (comparing to her culture; it’s funny even to see the parallel here, both had to be with people that are considered savages, wildlings where they come from) in return of an army, and she made the best of her situation, she learnt his language, his manners, bore his child (even if the baby never came to live), she fell in love with him cause for the first time in a very long time (or forever?), she was treated with care and love (the way Drogo knew how to love) by the man in her life. 


A sweet reminder of how Daenerys thinks of her family and how she would have married Rhaegar’s son, had he lived. Rhaegar’s son, who’s Jon’s daddy again? 

Plus, we’ve seen on the show that Jon was named Aegon Targaryen too, we do not know if he will have the same name on the books but I honestly do not think they would change something so important. 

So, just another beautiful “easter egg” to ya:

Five Aegons had ruled the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. 

There would have been a sixth, but the Usurper’s dogs had murdered her brother’s son when he was still a babe at the breast. If he had lived, I might have married him. “

Daenerys, ADWD

Who says you still won’t, sweetie? Hold on, Melisandre will bring him back or he was warging Ghost, let’s just wait a bit longer, okay? 


Their journey is a never ending parallel, and their path is clearly to each other.

I don’t think the history is called ‘A Song of Ice and Fire’ without a cause, Jon may be blood of the dragon, but he’s also a Stark, and Daenerys is a Targaryen through and through…

*the lord of light aka george r.r. martin speaks through melisandre*

I’m back to reading the books and even if I’m still at AGOT, I just felt like making this, had a really bad day and making this made it a little better. 

What are your thoughts? <3 

A customer once mansplained a pokemon to me

I work in a cafe, and I tend to give people compliments on their clothing/ accessories if they’re wearing something interesting.  One morning during the morning rush a customer in his late 30s comes up to my register wearing a purple tshirt with Gengar’s face printed in the middle.  Because it was the morning rush, and we only have one register, I decided to keep my compliment short, so at the end of the transaction I say “I like your shirt" 

The man says "thank you” and begins to walk away from my register.  Then a look crosses his face like he’s concerned that I, a woman, might have just complimented the shirt because of the graphic design, and that it was his job to teach me what was actually printed on his shirt. So he turns back towards me and goes “This is a pokemon."  I stare at him blankly wondering why he wouldn’t think that I already knew that.  He continues "He’s a ghost type pokemon."  I continue to just stare while thinking ‘no shit.’ but he wasn’t done mansplaining Gengar to me yet.  "One of his best moves is an attack called 'Dream eater’ He’s a pretty powerful pokem-”

That’s when I decided to cut him off because my short and simple compliment had accidentally turned into a lecture.  I say in my best customer-service-voice, “Yeah, it’s Gengar.  I was born in the 90s."  He shut up and moved off to the side real quick.  Seriously, why can’t some men just take compliments on their nerdy clothing without making it weird?

A Perfectly Ordinary Ladynoir Story

In hindsight, falling into Chat Noir’s arms was usually a mistake.

“Are you sure you couldn’t see yourself falling for a guy like me?”  

Ladybug let out a snort, eyes rolling behind the black and red mask as Chat lowered the pair of them to the ground.

“Really?” Ladybug laughed, somewhat incredulously, nodding over Chat Noir’s shoulder. “We got a jilted tailor that’s got the city in stitches-”

“Nice one,” Chat said, tearing through the side streets as red thread chased after him.

“Thank you,” Ladybug said, yo-yo lashing out and batting away a needle zeroing in on Chat’s back. “You really want to bat those eyelashes at me now?”  

“Might be our last chance,” Chat said, leaping up and over the roof-tops and landing in a low crouch, depositing his partner on the rooftop. “Sure there isn’t anything you want to tell me? Maybe one last kiss before the icy hand of death envelops us both.”

“Later,” Ladybug said, throwing an arm out to shield Chat Noir as The Fashionista grappled up onto the ledge, needles clutched in her hands as she zeroed in on the pair before her. “Unless you want to find out what a pincushion feels like.”

“I’ll hold you to that later, Buggi,” Chat Noir said, extending his baton with a flick of his wrist.

“Somehow I knew you would,” Ladybug sighed, latching onto a weather vane and swinging out of the way of a hail of needles as Chat Noir flanked the akuma around the side.


Perched on the edge of the rooftop, Ladybug watched Chat drop the now de-evilized victim on the doorstep of her parent’s house, shooting a salute and a wink at her mother. He was, at his core, a corny little tomcat, who couldn’t miss an opportunity to act like he was auditioning for the remake of The Princess Bride.

Of course, that made it harder for Ladybug to take him seriously.

He was a tease, and part of Ladybug resented Chat for flirting like his words had no effect. Chat had winked, hand-kissed, and flirted his way through every girl they ran into. Even as he left the former Fashionista, he couldn’t part without offering her a kiss on the hand before springing up to the roof where Ladybug was waiting.

“She okay?” Ladybug asked.

“Fine, fine,” Chat said, rolling his shoulders with a small sigh. “Little rattled, of course, but I figured that much; not every day some weirdo brainwashes you and makes you his flunky.”

“That what the hand kiss was for?” Ladybug asked, brow arching in Chat’s direction.

“Was I really supposed to ignore a lady in distress?” Chat snorted, turning to his partner with a slowly spreading smile. “Jealous?”

“You wish, man,” Ladybug snorted.

“…maybe I do,” Chat Noir said, hands leaning on the top of his staff, glancing across at his partner with a small smile that made Ladybug’s heart skip a beat. “I wouldn’t mind if said you didn’t like me kissing other people.”

“You know…you do this thing where you almost look sincere when you say stuff like that,” Ladybug said, head cocking to one side. “I almost forget you’re joking.”

“…when did I ever say I was joking?” Chat replied, soft enough that Ladybug almost didn’t catch it. And it was easy for Ladybug to pretend that Chat’s confession fell on deaf ears; easier than confronting the truth that he might actually be sincere in his endless teasing. Easier than wondering how their relationship might change were Ladybug to call him on his bluff, pull him in by his bell collar, and kiss him so hard he never even dreamed about flirting with anyone ever again.

Instead, Ladybug opted for certainty, offering a fist for Chat to clumsily brush his knuckles against as though they didn’t each want a little more. 


The moment the transformation wore off, Tikki tore into the box of cookies on the desk in a hail of crumbs that scattered over the half-finished calculus homework.

“Hey, hey, watch it!” Nino said, picking the kwami up by her back and pulling her away from his desk. “I don’t think my teachers are going to buy the fact that my pocket-ladybug got food all over my homework!”

“Shorry,” Tikki said, swallowing a mouthful of chocolate chips. “Long day.”

“You’re telling me,” Nino said, flopping belly first onto his bed, the afternoon replaying in his head as Tikki floated over.

“…you know, you wouldn’t be the first Ladybug to fall in love with Chat Noir,” Tikki said, patting the back of Nino’s head as he buried his burning face in his pillows.

“Just…eat your cookies,” Nino groaned.

“The first time I met Jack, I thought to myself: ‘Here’s a gay guy who’s not cynical, who’s not sarcastic, who enjoys life.’ He had so much energy. He was a fifth grade teacher and he’d always get so excited when he talked about his work. He’d produce these plays where he’d let the kids choose their own characters. He’d spend hours writing out their dialogue. And then I’d pretend to be one of the fathers and go sit in the audience. It was so fun. We had so much fun together. But the whole time we were dating, there was always part of me that thought I could do better. I was a fancy lawyer. Jack never seemed ‘cool enough’ for me. And so I left him for a gorgeous twenty-one year old. Jack and I remained friends. We even continued living together. But his therapist told him never to date me again. So he dated other people. And he got sick. Both of us got sick, but Jack was the one who died. And he might have lived if I hadn’t been such a bad person. If he’d been ‘enough’ for me, he’d never have gotten HIV. The funny thing is I’d grown up thinking that I’d never be loved. Then a wonderful person loved me. And I left him to have sex with somebody who wasn’t a wonderful person. Jack died thirty years ago. I dream about him almost every night. It always feels good to see him alive. For a moment, I don’t have to blame myself for his death. I usually ask him for forgiveness. And some nights he forgives me. But other nights he doesn’t.”

After All This Time

Summary: Sharing a sleeping bag with Shawn because Mother Nature isn’t too friendly.

A/N: This took me so long to finish for some odd reason, but it’s super cute. Feedback would be amazinggg:)

(not my gif)

Originally posted by infiniteforests


It was so cold. The kind of cold where no amount of layers could help and the more you thought about it, the more you could feel the goosebumps that covered every inch of your body, but there was nothing else that you could do. Clothes clung to you from head to toe and the fire out in the pit was long gone, leaving you in the dark.

Sure, you could have turned on a lantern, but Shawn was right next to you, thanks to Brian’s sneaky matchmaking skills, and waking him up seemed like a crime in your eyes.

You didn’t have the slightest idea of how he was able to even sleep, but you weren’t complaining. The awkward tension that would have filled the air if he was awake was enough to make you want to dig yourself a hole to hide in. His body laying right next to yours was already making you jittery enough.

The last time you had seen him like this was underneath the make shift fort that the both of you had built in the middle of your living room, but that was in fifth grade. He was still sporting braces and that stupid haircut that all the boys had at the time. You didn’t know what was going through your little eleven year old’s mind, but here you were, in the same position several years later.

But the braces were long gone and the hair was now left alone in curls, effortlessly resembling something like a goddamn Disney prince, but the feelings you had remained the same. It always had and you definitely don’t see it changing anytime soon when he looks like that now. He had gotten taller and it was obvious that his time at the gym had been paying off well with his broad shoulders and thick arms. He looked so different, yet still the same.

It didn’t matter how many blind dates Megan had tried to set you up on or how many people you saw from time to time that could have been something that never was. You couldn’t bare to give it a shot because Shawn was always your first and you didn’t even know if your feelings went both ways. It was pitiful really.

Your eyes eventually started to feel heavier and you could feel yourself finally becoming drowsy until you felt a nudge on your leg. Figuring it was just Shawn moving around in his sleep again, you ignored it, but then you felt it once more. It was more direct, making your eyes snap back open.

Immediately, you could distinguish the warm brown of Shawn’s eyes looking around, scanning the surroundings.

“Hey,” he had whispered while reaching over to turn on the lantern above your head, filling the tent with a yellow glow. “Are you cold?” Concern was laced into his voice.

“N-no,” you said too quickly for it to be true. What kind of person wouldn’t be freezing?

He repositioned himself so his head was on top of his elbow, giving you a smug smile. “Are you sure? Because I’ve been feeling you shivering all night.”

There was a short pause. “Okay…maybe a little.”

Shawn’s smile never left his face as he licked his lips, making your head go crazy. If the next three nights were going to be like this, you didn’t know how you were going to keep yourself under control and it was all Brian’s fault. He was probably feeling content with himself, putting you and Shawn in the same tent, and you just wanted to murder him in his sleep for it.

You were too distracted to even notice that Shawn had undone the zipper of your sleeping bag until you felt your body become colder. “W-what are you doing?” you seethed, rubbing your arms. Instead of replying, Shawn un-zipped his as well and scooted back to put more room between you guys.

He then invitingly lifted the top cover before saying, “C’mere.”

“What?” The shock had slapped you across the face. That was the last thing you thought he was going to say.

“Come share my sleeping bag with me. I don’t want you getting sick,” Shawn said with worried eyes. You were about to open your mouth to say some kind of lame excuse, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words. You really did want to and he seemed to feel the same way. Well, you hoped at least.

So here you were: slipping into the same sleeping bag as your best friend while trying not to make a fool out of yourself.

The warmth that seemed to radiate off of him immediately enveloped you, causing a hum of content to come out of your lips as you closed your eyes. You heard the closing of the zipper, encasing the both of you, and the little chuckle that came out of the insanely cute boy next to you, and that’s when it clicked.

The space between you and Shawn was barely even there. Not even a sheet of paper could slide its way in between you two. You didn’t know how you had even managed to fit in with his huge body, but that was the last thing on your mind.

All you really focused on was the sound of the wind hitting the tent, but you weren’t freezing cold anymore and it felt better than you thought it would, making you smile as you opened your eyes.

Shawn was already looking at you, his face emotionless. A twinge of panic flared up inside of you and you couldn’t help but feel like a burden the longer you laid there next to him, but then you felt it.

His hand was slowly making its way up your body, squeezing your waist, until it appeared above the blanket, stopping at your neck. He gently cupped it, running his thumb along your jaw. The both of you didn’t tear your eyes away from each other, even when you had started to lean in, but stopped right before your lips could touch. The both of you were starting to breathe more heavily.

You moved your own hand as well, mimicking his movements, but you kept going so your fingers snaked through his hair. It was softer than you had imagined, making your lips part just a smidge in delight as you felt him pull you closer to him as if being squished inside a sleeping bag wasn’t enough.

“Your heart is beating really fast,” he whispered.

“And I wonder whose fault that is,” you smiled, greatly surprised with your sudden kick of courage in your veins as you leaned in to close the inch of space between your lips.

As much as you’d hate to admit it, you had spent lots of time imagining how kissing Shawn would feel, but the real deal could never compare. Everything that you had dreamed of; from the way his plump lips would fit with yours and the way he held your body against his felt ten times more intense now that it was actually happening outside of your head. You might as well have died and risen to heaven when you had slowly pulled away, too scared that you were just having an unbelievably realistic dream.

Shawn placed a chaste kiss under your jaw. “Thank God I asked Brian to put us together,” he had mused, not even aware of how your whole body tensed in shock.

You looked down at him, not believing his words. “Wait, this was all you?” He was the nervous one now as he suddenly looked everywhere but your eyes.

He sheepishly shook his head into your neck, trying to hide his blushing cheeks. “Yeah, I was—uh—too nervous to ask you. And I know that it sounds stupid because we’re best friends and all, but I couldn’t really think straight when—”

“God, you’re so fucking cute,” you had interrupted. A grin grew onto your face while you raised your hand to run it through his curls again.

Shawn then lifted his head, smiling as wildly as you were before leaning down to pull you into another sweet kiss.

“So are you.”

artificial wedding bells

title: artificial wedding bells

ship: peter parker (17 yo) x stark!reader

wc: 1.5k

a/n: hey! you invite him to an event because your dad, is setting you up with someone you don’t want to be with. peter agrees, but he is not crushing. nope. not at all.

tell me what u think!!!! (requests are open!)

my previous imagine

“You want me to do what?”

“I promise, it’s just for a night and if you do this- I will do anything for you. I will get your favorite sandwiches, do all your English assignments for a month, I really just need you to do this favor for me, Peter.” her eyes are blown wide as she looks at him, petal lip bit and her hand brushing his lightly in hopes of conveying how badly she wanted his help.

“Being your pretend boyfriend for a wedding? No one would buy it-”

“Peter, I’m not hideous. People would believe your lapse in judgment for 2 months in dating me.” she laughed, self deprecating, and he pouted at her. Because even if he doesn’t have a crush on her, if he did, it wouldn’t be a “lapse in judgment”. Whoever she ends up with will be lucky to have her. WHoever gets to be the person who holds her hand and takes care of her, makes her laugh and finds home in her embrace- they will certainly regret it. She’s not the kind of thing that you regret.

He doesn’t have a crush on her. He doesn’t. But he knows that whoever does, whoever ends up getting to be with her- it’s not going to be something that they don’t cherish. He can’t imagine that when someone holds her hand, they’re not going to cherish every moment of it.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says firmly, dark brown eyes boring into hers seriously, as she jokingly rolled her eyes, and squeezed his hand in recognition, and he notes how their hands just seem to mesh, and he’s never really noticed that before. Not that she’s held his hand too much anyway, but holding it doesn’t seem to be something he minds.

“I just meant that you’re you, daughter of the Tony Stark and also like, really pretty-” is that a blush? Probably not, she doesn’t do things like blush, “And I’m just you know, a kid with an internship, and I’m awkward and I’ll mess it up-”

“Please, Parker, it’ll be fine. I promise. I just need this one favor, and you won’t mess it up. I know you. You won’t let me down.”

                                                     ~oOo~

It turns out she wanted him to go to a wedding and dinner with her, because her dad wanted to set her up with someone and if she was with someone, then…

Peter understood. Telling May that he was her date, well, it went over very well, actually. Aunt May did his tie and hair, rehearsed things to say, said she always knew that they’d end up together.

Which is weird, because Peter’s never really thought that before.

She gushed about how lovely Peter’s “girlfriend” is, and he can’t really disagree because she is gorgeous, it’s just a fact. Peter isn’t blind- he knows that his best friend is just about the prettiest girl he’d ever met, ever seen.

He’s dressed formally for a formal event, as she’d called it, and she’s picking him up, at 6 o’clock on the dot.

He opens the door, and his breath is stolen from his lungs like someone’s sucked it from his chest.

She is beautiful. She’s absolutely stunning, and it’s ridiculous, he can’t tear his eyes from her, and she’s wearing a grey dress with shimmer and lipstick on her mouth, big eyes looking up at him and hair curled, and for a second, Peter forgets that he isn’t really her date, he isn’t really going to be the person that she wants to show off to her friends and family.

“Is there something on my face?” she asks, concerned.

“No! You look-look good. Good. Really pretty.” he sounds stupid, and since when did she make him this kind of nervous? He sounds stupid. Stupid. She beams at him, and it feels fine, like she’s rubbed out of all of his insecurity.

“Good.” she teases, “You look good too.”

He doesn’t mind when she grabs his hand and pulls him into the car, where Happy is waiting to drive them to Stark Tower.

                                                    ~oOo~

It’s a party, actually. It is a really big party. Huge, in fact, and he finds himself holding her hand, more out of wanting to not get lost, rather than keeping up the facade. People ask about the two of them, and Peter is surprised about a lot of things.

Peter is surprised how easy it is for his arm to snake around her waist, or how her face fits in the crook of his neck when she feigns embarrassment at people asking about “them”. He’s surprised how much pride he has when people call her his girlfriend. Because she is lovely, she’s so gorgeous and funny an light, and the way she makes him feel in place in a setting when he’s definitely not.

“Aunt Emma, this is my boyfriend, Peter.” Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Her aunt smiles at her and winks. She looks him up and down.

“Well, your uncle is going to find this very funny.” Emma is pulled away, by a man in a leather jacket who Peter assumes to be her husband.

“What was that about?” he asked, joy in his tone.

“My uncle thought I’d end up with like, a tough guy or something” she laughed taking a sip of her mocktail in a champagne glass.

“Well, it’s good that you ended up here with me.” for some reason, the idea of her with some leather-clad tall guy made his stomach stir.

Not in a crush way, though.

She just smiles and pulls him towards where everyone’s dancing.

He’s watching her dance with her little cousin, twirling around like she’s being charmed, and it’s so endearing, Peter’s heart could pop out of his chest at any moment. She is so lovely, so kind and so good, laughing at the deep bow her cousin takes and it strikes Peter how much he loves the sound.

So, the thing is, Peter realizes, is that she isn’t just beautiful in concept. He doesn’t just think that she’s lovely in the abstract. All this time, Peter’s been thinking that whoever gets to be the one to kiss her, gets to be the one who holds and loves her-they’ll be lucky.

He’s never really let himself think about how that might look.

Because her with anyone else- the phrase sounds wrong on his tongue, it’s not right. She shouldn’t be anyone else’s daydream, at least not one that they get to keep. Yes, she is the kind of wonderful that leaves you breathless and the stuff of dreams, but he knew that.

What he realizes, looking at her, so light and airy, her dress catching the air and ringlets falling loose from bobby pins, is that he wants to be the daydream wrapped around her mind.

“May I cut in?” he asks formally, bowing deeper than needed. She curtsies to him, and giggles, as he wraps his arms around her waist, hers going around his shoulders. She’s close and he can smell her perfume and also her, and he’s never really realized how much he liked being around her.

“You know,” she said, whispering in his ear, “you’re pretty good at this.”

“Hmm?” he hummed, trying not to revel in how she fits against him, warm and delicate.

“Pretending to like me.”

She shakes him out of his haze, actually, when she says this. They’re supposed to be pretending, but he’s not. He’s not pretending to like the way her hands fits in his. He’s not pretending to like the way she smiles up at him like he’s her boyfriend. He didn’t ask her to dance because of the whole fake-date thing.

“Well, it’s easy to pretend to do something you wish you could do.”

“What?”

Fuck.

“I didn’t-”

“Did you?” They spoke at the same time, with wide eyes, because Peter just admitted something so true and more than that, he knows she doesn’t feel that way. Knows that she doesn’t look at him like he set the sun, makes her happy like there’s nothing else in the world like him.

“I’m sorry, shit I didn’t mean to overstep, it’s just you looked pretty and I just thought about how much I loved tonight, how I liked when you called me baby and-”

“Peter,” she laughed. “I didn’t invite you because of Beckett.”

Beckett. Stupid name. Stupid name for a stupid guy who shouldn’t get to go out with her.

“I asked you because if I had to have anyone be my fake boyfriend,” she says, smiling knowingly at him finger pressing into his chest pointedly, “Then I would pick you, Mr. Parker.”

“Does that mean-”

Yes, Peter.”

He kisses her and he’s grateful that he’s on the corner of the room where no one can really see them, his hand on her cheek and his eyes closed, her smile pressed against his and butterflies hammering in his stomach and he’s never, never been this happy in an instant before.

He hears a throat clear.

He even sees Mr. Stark handing Cap 20 dollars.

tag list under cut: 

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I’ve got loyalty, got royalty
rating: a very light mature
pairing: Jon x Daenerys
summary: After Jon learns that he has a birthright to the Iron Throne, he notices Daenerys pulling away from him.
note: love to @jonathansnowflakes for letting me babble to her near incessantly. 

“You’re avoiding me.”

She doesn’t look surprised to find him lingering in the hall outside her quarters. Exhausted, really, more than anything else. She brushes past him without slowing her graceful, quiet steps, the smell of honey and ash following after her as it always seems to.

(He tries not to remember how he could smell it on his skin for days, after. How in the space just between her shoulder and neck, below her ear, it smells the strongest. How she gasps out his name when he drags his teeth against the same spot, her nails pressing into his shoulders and her ankle hooking behind his knee.)

“I’ve been busy,” she responds, voice clipped. He knows very well how busy she has been. Bewitching his banner men as well as his wolf, Ghost trailing after her wherever she goes. Even now, he can hear the soft pad of paws just behind them both, a silent patrol in the darkness of the hall.

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Making You Happy

Request: @buckyappreciationsociety   Here’s my request. Prompt #3 with Bucky. Thanks my friend.

And someone had requested number 1, but the ask despair of my inbox,

Prompts:  1) “Close your eyes.” + “I swear if you do something nasty I’m out of here.”

  3) “I should be the only one making you happy.”

Words: 1181

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Fluffy and angst. Don’t worry this has a happy ending.

Thank you @widowsfics  you are the best and i love you.

credits to the gif owners 

It’s been 3 months since you broke up with Bucky, it’s been 3 months since he moved out of your shared apartment and it’ been 3 months since you haven’t slept or eaten well. You don’t know how this happened, one day you two were happy, making plans for the future and the next one you were screaming for him to get out of your life.

You miss him every day, you miss talking to him about your day to day life, you miss cuddling to him every night and having that feeling that you are safe. More importantly, you miss knowing that he is happy and safe and if you could turn back time, you would, and you wish you never had that stupid fight.

That is the problem with loving people; you are always going to end up being hurt and you are always going to hurt them as much as you don’t want that, it is unavoidable. You take a deep breath looking at the phone like you do every night, you just need to gather the courage to talk to him, say that you are sorry and that you miss him.

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6

Brett Talbot x Fem!Reader


Warnings: Nudity.
Word count: 1 792


A/N: Yet another one of @lazyneonmonster​‘s fantastic ideas, and I feel like I easily trail away with her ideas, BECAUSE THEY’RE AWESOME!

ALSO, sorry (not sorry) for only posting Brett fics lately, but aiming to be among (at least) the top three in the search results when searching “Brett Talbot”. heheh


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CRUSH

Originally posted by kihyunswife

(Authors note: Fluff and smut. Little warning that this is a billion words long so get yourself a cup of tea. The story was originally going to have sex in it but as you read it, you’ll understand why I thought Jooheon wouldn’t do it irl. This does however contain Body Worship, Dry humping and Face sitting. Stop me writing about this boy smh) 

Your house only really felt like a home when you were hosting a slumber party with the crazy boys of monsta X. It wasn’t the first time you’d all been sprawled out on your living room sofa and carpet, snacking on crisps, marshmallows and ice cream while you asked each other insane questions like: 

“Do you think cows know we drink their milk? What would happen if a cow drank it’s own milk? Do you think insects have feelings?” 

Though, that night was different. As you swallowed a sweet, fluffy marshmallow, you felt eyes on you, his eyes on you. Surely enough, your eyes met Jooheon’s intense gaze and like you’d been holding it in for hours, you let out a deep sigh. Recently, Jooheon had been making you feel funny inside. When you were around him, you could barely breathe, your palms got all sticky with sweat, you suddenly cared about what you looked like around him. Yes, you had a school girl crush on the amazing, talented rapper that was Jooheon. 

‘Hey’ 

You mouthed to him, trying your best to fight your blush. Jooheon smiled, his lips curling up and bringing out his adorable dimples that you were craving to kiss so much. 

‘Hey’ 

He mouthed back before looking down shyly, his mouth still curved with the thought of you. Unbeknown to you, a couple of the guys had noticed this interaction along with seeing the way you were beginning to act differently around him. Minhyuk tapped Wonho on the shoulder and whispered that Jooheon hadn’t stopped staring at you the whole night. Wonho grinned, seeing the way you and Jooheon kept looking at each other to see if the other person was looking too. 

“Hey (Y/N).” 

Wonho said to get your attention as he was sat on the couch, cuddled up with Minhyuk almost like they were a couple with his muscular arm behind Minhyuk’s neck. He had a troublesome smirk on his model face and a glint in his dark eyes; you knew he was up to something. 

“Mmm?”

You replied, raising your eyebrow in curiosity. Minhyuk couldn’t seem to keep a straight face either.

“Would you ever get with Jooheonie?” 

He asked, looking over at Jooheon like he was doing his fellow member a favour. Your eyes darted to Jooheon who instantly looked uncomfortable, scrunching his knees up to his chest defensively. Looking at Jooheon with panic in your eyes, you were stuck for words. What was you supposed to say? Your relationship with Jooheon at that moment was complicated and difficult to explain. He acted like he was in to you and you could be sure he knew that you liked him but it was a very early stage of this crush. Jooheon could barely look at you as you tried to find the right words to say. Your mouth hung open like a fish, racking your brain for an acceptable answer but Changkyun chose to speak. 

“Looks like you hit a nerve there Hoseok.” 

You stuttered, your heart pounding and your pulse racing so fast that your stomach began to twist. 

“I..uhhhh… we’re friends. I mean, Jooheonie means a lot to me.” 

You bit your lip, praying that you didn’t hurt his feelings. When Jooheon excused himself from the room, you knew you made a huge mistake.

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Coloured Bricks, Pick Up Sticks

Or: Anything can be a superpower if you get it hot enough. 

Wordcount: 1,900+

Genre: Weirdly and unnecessarily specific diagetic meta/comedy/drama

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Inko

Perks: Quirk!Izuku, Quirk Experimentation, Quirk Lore, Izuku’s Extremely Tenuous Grip On The Basic Concept Of What Toys Are

Midoriya Izuku is a very warm person.

Not his personality (though that’s also true). It’s his quirk. His quirk is that he’s warm.

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Breaks

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jackson

Rating: R (mentions of smut)

Word Count: 3,176

Summary:  In the world of Lore, there are no soulmates. Not anymore. But what happens when you start to dream of yours? - Soulmates!AU

Originally posted by ohmystresswang

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TMNT x Reader (Part One).

Imagine your favorite turtle cuddling with you. It’s late and it’s cold and he’s had a stressful day. All he wants right now is to hold you and kiss you and fall asleep. The best part about being in a relationship is that all of those things can happen.

Leonardo is exhausted.
Today has been an exhausting, difficult day. And it seemed like those days were coming along more often.
Sometimes, the line between brother and leader can be confusing and tiring. There are some days when he just wants to hang out and not do anything…but that can’t happen.
He has a job to do.
A job that his family counts on.
So after training and patrol and meditation and butting heads with his brothers, all he wants to do is to crawl in bed. He slowly walks through the dark hallway, his brother’s voices and laughter slowly vanishing from his ears. He approaches the final circular door.
His door. His bedroom. His sanctuary.
He shuts the door behind him and leans against it, pressing his head to worn out wood, lost in thought. He thinks about everything he had to do today and how he will do it again tomorrow and he wonders if it will ever get any easier. He had been the Leader for five years, since he was fifteen, and as he got older his job only seemed to get harder.
Leo sighs and turns around, acting to get into bed, when he notices a small figure underneath his sheets. He stiffens but relaxes when the figure mumbles something. He would know that voice anywhere.
He strides over, quietly, and pulls his blue comforter away, revealing Y/N’s peaceful face. He notices the book tucked away next to her, a copy of Cinder that has her finger tucked between the pages.
He laughed softly at the sight before him.
“Did you fall asleep waiting for me?” He whispers.
Leonardo carefully takes the book, making sure to mark the page, and places it on the nightstand. For a moment, he simply watches her breathe softly.
She looks so content and he wonders what she might be dreaming about. A little part of Leonardo hopes that she’s dreaming about him…Eventually, he decideds to join her in her dreams.
Moving away, he removes his armor piece by piece, putting it away. He looks in the mirror. He tools older. Tired. He examines his green skin, littered with scars and a few tattoos. His eyes linger in his left forearm, where he had the kanji symbol for “love” tattooed.
He had gotten that for her and she had held his hand the entire time. He hadn’t really needed her to but he certainly had enjoyed it.
He looks up and he can see her reflection in the mirror. Y/N has rolled over and is now facing him, her arm reaching out towards him as though to say
“Come to bed.”
Love. His fingers run over the inked skin before he turns away and goes to join her. Carefully, so very carefully, he slides in bed next to her. Leonardo is always surprised about how small she seems next to him. How delicate, almost doll like.
She suddenly stirs, her eyes just barely opening.
“Leo?” She asks, her voice thick with sleep.
“Hey. Sorry for keeping you waiting.” he whispers.
Y/N smiled sleepily and says
“No trouble.”
She’s drifting off to sleep once more and Leonardo gives her a quick kiss before she resumes her peaceful breathing.
It has been a difficult day for the turtles but being able to hold her like this…made it all worthwhile.
Within moments, Leo had joined her in her slumber, still holding her in his arms.
Love.

Kwami swap: An Adrinoir Story?

I had a very bad day today so I decided to give up on life’s responsibilities and write some totally indulgent (marichat? Ladrien?) sin.

@squirrellygirlart made fanart for this Here

So for the Kwami Swap I have Marinette with the Chat Noir miraculous and her name is Kitten Noir and things get heated with her and Adrien.

So I’m thinking I might make some headcannons for this version of the kwami swap so let me know if you desire more from this universe! Seriously though I have thought a lot about what Marinette would be like with the Chat Noir miraculous.


WARNING: SIN SIN SIN AND MORE SIN!!!!! not for young innocent eyes. No smut.

Marinette had transformed into Kitten Noir and gone out for the night in order to clear her head. She hadn’t intended on running into any problems that night. Unfortunately for her what seemed like an easy job turned into a real big fucking problem. She had stopped the men mugging the woman of course but in the process she had gotten a little injured. She groaned as she vaulted onto the next rooftop pain shooting up her side. Okay a lot injured. She stumbled as she landed on the next rooftop. She looked around her, perspiration dotting her forehead. She was too far from home. She wasn’t going to last much longer without some help. She spotted the Agreste Mansion close by. If I could just make it there, she thought, maybe Adrien has a first aid kit, or could get me some help. The injury wasn’t enough to warrant a hospital visit but if she continued running through the city like this she could lose a lot of blood or tear the injury in her side farther open. Marinette grit her teeth together. If she could time this just right she might be able to make it in a single jump. Taking a deep breath Marinette ran towards the edge of the building pulling out her baton and vaulting off the rooftop extending it as she reached the height of the vault. Marinette thanked the gods above that Adrien’s bedroom window was open. She crashed through the open window and sprawled on the floor wheezing in pain. The movement probably did more damage to the injury than Marinette was counting on.

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When heroes are human & what comes with growth

Trying to get some of my feelings down on this chapter so I want to take a moment to look a little deeper in the imagery used for this panel in particular.

Its really such a chilling panel in its use of shadows and white space, wherein Toshinori is leaving Izuku as the shadows he leaves behind gradually creep up on him, not quite touching him yet but slowly drawing in on him.

These shadows he creates have taken someone else though.

Clear parallels are being made throughout this arc about Nighteye and Izuku, most prominently felt when Toshinori uses the word fan: 

  • admiring the same qualities about All Might
  • wrapped up in his ideals, wanting to be like him
  • breaking the barrier of admirer, aspiring to be worthy of his respect & confidence
  • having deep affection & concern for his well-being
  • and are shocked with the reality of who he is

Not in the way you find out someone you admire is just terrible but just that the person who you admire is flawed in a real way.

This is what I took most from this: All Might, the great and shining hero who left everyone in awe, is very much a flawed human who has hurt those closest to him with his choices and he understands he has but he can’t turn back because that would mean doing something worse, leaving people in fear and what his master gave him was put in the wrong hands.

All Might can’t let go because that’d mean he was wrong, the decision to make sure everyone feels safe and they have this security was not deserved. He can’t back off and let these ideals lose their meaning because that’d mean Toshinori the quirkless kid, who was given a chance by his hero, was a poor choice.

He lives for the all while ignoring the one: himself and those who are close and care for him in a personal way. its the flip side of what is good and righteous, so selfless and in keeping with their ideals they won’t take a step back for themselves. Thats what Izuku is touching on right now, the ideals that seemed so dazzling he missed what it implicates. 

Toshinori has pushed through personal pain and concern for his wellbeing for responsibilities and duties he feels for a whole. He has to keep the peace, he has to provide society with security, its whats held him together for so many years but he’s just a frail man and its scary and sad for Izuku to see this and not fully understand. He thought he knew All Might by now, he thought no matter what All Might had everything together. 

He even thought he knew All Might’s weaknesses except it runs deeper than physical problems.

Toshinori disregards what he has accomplished and done for thoughts of what he can still do, what it is he has to keep doing. These are the shadows he casts over Nighteye, choosing societies security over his own.

Its the truth you come to realize about people, they aren’t perfect, they make mistakes and sometimes what they do will not always agree with you in the end. Its what you get when you get older, the person in your life you accepted would always be right has cracks and those cracks can be scary because it means uncertainty and it means theres not going to be a clean cut answer to all problems, the grey areas start to show. 

All Might wanted to continue being there for the public, putting up a facade, while Sir just wanted him to lead a fulfilling life without understanding Toshinori had given all that up for his career. He could no longer be an average man because everything he’s put himself through has been for the purpose of being that all encompassing hero.

Toshinori knew this was coming. This was the time Izuku was growing past his more childish attitude and was asserting himself, acting every bit the developing teen he is. He’s coming into his own and that means facing something difficult he may not take well. (Sidenote: Toshinori has never given Izuku his real name before, getting that information from Gran Torino, always referring to himself as All Might as though maintaining that image for both their benefits)

Toshinori asks Izuku himself if he’s ready, giving him the chance to go back and be the kid who doesn’t need to know about his demons, he wants to keep him as innocent for as long as he can. This is something he’s put someone in a similar situation through and he regrets it, he doesn’t want to put that pain, disappointment and the weight of who he is on another kid who looks up to him. He didn’t want to let someone else down with who Toshinori is, trying to spare him the shadows he never meant to cast over Nighteye.

But he can’t keep Izuku where he can manage his growth himself, Izuku is impatient and young. The stakes keep going up and more people surrounding him are getting caught in it. He wants results and he wants to be able to accomplish things instead of having more failures, leaving more people in pain thanks to his inexperience.

Izuku has grown so much from the shy, hesitant person he was before who’d give into discouragement and be content with what he has. Izuku is no longer that kid who used to burst with admiration, he’s growing up and part of that is removing the lens you wear when you look at adults/parental figures you admire. Whatever made them perfect in your eyes isn’t the same anymore, seeing them for who they are and knowing there’s something about them that doesn’t fit with what you thought before. 

You have to take the good and the bad with the progress made.

Izuku, for his part, is growing past relying on All Might’s words to carry him, he’s growing into his own and building the confidence and drive to make shit happen. That means holding his own when he’s told he’s not good enough when he would have felt uncertain before.

 And not shying away from conflict when there’s something insidious going on. All Might not telling him this information himself put Izuku’s absolute faith into doubt, he’s learning All Might may not have everything together.

Izuku’s made strides but it means opening up for something less certain. He isn’t disheartened anymore but that doesn’t mean he’ll be told what he does is right, its the first step to learning just how harsh this work really is and his naive beliefs could lead to a worse outcome.

Reality is harsh and his dream is very open to harsher consequence. He has to overcome his naiveté, to adapt and think on his own, what is right and wrong for him and what has to be done. He’s learned he has to come into his own without relying on the image of All Might. But now he has to wonder: ‘whats under that image?’ Its scary to think All Might doesn’t know what he’s doing, your hero might not have a complete handle on life and what he does to himself is self-destructive.

Sir is still stuck on this himself. The shadows that have engulfed Sir Nighteye, the pain Toshinori puts himself through with his lack of self-preservation, are slowly touching on izuku. He starting to know thats who All Might really is, Toshinori the person who has put his image and ideals above himself.

Toshinori says he’s sorry but its not just for the heavy information he’s shared or choosing Midoriya based on chance, its for everything he really is and everything he couldn’t live as. He’s sorry for not ‘truly’ being the man Izuku had looked up to. Toshinori is sorry for the weaknesses he possess and the people who’ve had to carry the burdens he’s put on them. For being the man who, even after losing half his organs, still pushes himself despite knowing he’ll never last and could die in a horrible way in a foreseeable future. He still knows he could die sadly but pushes through that, not wanting to face himself.

He’s sorry for putting Nighteye through his selfishness and letting Izuku know of it; he’s sorry for not ‘successfully’ embodying the ideals he set out for himself.

Its desolate and nerve-racking and it tears away at him, even if he understands whats best. He’ll never be content and rest on his laurels even after being the first OfA successor to land a considerable blow to AfO. He’ll still keep fighting a never ending battle and may never get the peace he deserves, all because he’ll be anxious if he’s not the one to carry it. Never quite accepting his limits.

He can’t turn back, he has to keep going for himself, its his egotism. Its all he can do is to say he’s sorry and keep going forward because he knows what he’s doing will never reach an end. Thats been his flaw, he can’t stop himself from living this life because its the only one he’s accustomed to.

Everything he’s done was in service to be relied on, it makes him feel lost when he’s the one protected. He has to throw himself into the next labor just to have a goal to shoot for in the greater good (getting Shigaraki out of being a villain). If not, it means facing all he’s denied himself to be that symbol.

All Might may have accomplished more than any hero has before and done everything he could for the world but Toshinori will never be content.

It’s important to have these characters highlighted during this flashback. They’ve gone through what All Might has, they’ve witnessed what he has been through and they’ve had to shoulder through the sometimes troubling choices he’s pushed on himself. 

During the sports fest, All Might couldn’t reprimand Izuku because Izuku was berating his own inadequacy for the situation, he sees far too much of himself in Izuku. Izuku had to learn he couldn’t keep breaking his own body to make sure help was given, he had to learn this himself through failure and troubling those around him, knowing he’s not the only one being affected by his reckless actions.

Chiyo had done her best to nip that behaviour in the bud before it got to All Might levels of troubling, she doesn’t want to continue down the same path they’ve gone down before.

All Might may have been the symbol of peace in society but he’s still Toshinori the man who is frail and can only do so much before he’s worn himself thin but he keeps going regardless of protests. And they are the ones who’ve decided to watch over him since they can’t control what he does, guide and advice but still lack what can set him at ease, giving him the peace he needs. 

They were there then and they’ll continue being there for him the best they can.

And thats the drawback of losing your mentor, they’ll always be the perfect hero in your eyes while never learning their shortcomings.

Toshinori will always aspire and never meet his ideals because he’ll believe Nana could have, she’s peerless in his eyes. He’ll never quite meet her faults in the same way Izuku and Sir have and perhaps he’ll never realize this about himself.

In the end, Izuku is left unsettled by all of this coming from his hero.

The shadows All Might leaves behind have enveloped Sir Nighteye and are slowly finding their way to Izuku.

Wife

Wife.

She was his wife now. He couldn’t stop beaming at her, as she smiled and twirled and glowed with happiness.

Captain Hook, a married man. Married to the Savior no less, but even so: married.

He recalled the days when he pined after this woman, wondering if she might ever see him as something more than just a pirate.

Only in his most wondrous dreams did he ever think she would be his wife.


Wife.

He stared at the ring on his hand. Somehow, the curse had left it untouched.

A wedding band. His wedding band.

It had been real. No curse could take that from him.

But it could take something else from him: his wife.


Wife.

Climbing the beanstalk without his wife was eerie.

Bloody hell, he’d been teasing her at the time, hoping to unsettle her enough to get her to reveal more information about herself. The more he understood her, the better he could use her.

You never forget your first. How little he’d realized how much that would come to mean.

Last he’d been here, she’d been a reluctant ally who had, hours earlier, been fully prepared to let him die at the hands of ogres.

Now, she was his wife.


Wife.

He was about to see his wife die.

There had been a small glimmer of hope this whole time, that she could defeat prophecy and visions as surely as she’d defeated so much darkness before.

But not now. She’d tossed aside her sword. Gideon was going to run her through, while the rest of them just watched.

While he just watched.

Watched as someone killed his wife.


Wife.

His wife lay in his arms, with her head on his chest. He stared down at her left hand, which rested on top of his right; they’d found her rings in the little ring dish in the bathroom, much to her relief.

He was lying in bed with his wife. He chuckled weakly.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re my wife.”

She laughed gently. “Yeah, I know. And you’re my husband.”

He smiled.

Husband.

Praying to the god of Mischief

TITLE: Praying to the god of Mischief 

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter One

AUTHOR: BlackIrisPosts

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine one night you pray to the god of mischief before setting out to prank a friend, to your great surprise and horror, he shows up to help and things get out of hand.



RATING: M?

NOTES/WARNINGS: Swearing.
Not my first fic, but my first time writing Loki. I hope you enjoy! 

Flash light? Check.

Two mega economy packs of toilet paper? Check. And check.

Simplest idea ever? Check.

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anonymous asked:

so. um. amnesiac adam?

FUCK YOU, THIS, AND MY DEEP LOVE FOR THIS FUCKING TROPE

……..

“He was having some strange dreams, last night,” Belle confides to Mrs. Potts. “Tossing and turning…I think he might be sick with something.”

“They do say magic leaves it’s marks,” says the good housekeeper wisely.

“They say that?”

“Well, no, they don’t. But I shouldn’t wonder if there were some strange after-effects. I expect it takes a powerful lot of magic to keep us all here in the dark, and him a beast, for so many years.”

“So…there still might be some magic around?”

“A passing qualm. I shouldn’t worry, dear,” and Mrs Potts pats her hand, and goes to fetch the bread and butter.

Belle sits back to think. She loves Adam; she surprises herself daily with how deeply, how intricately she loves him. Every detail is so utterly like him: the way he grumps when he’s just woken up; the way he argues with her taste in books, and beams when she retorts; the way he relaxes in every muscle when she comes in. She loves Adam, and his comfortable blue coats, and the way he shares her books, and holds her hand, and picks her up and spins her just for a lark.

And it’s right then—as she’s smiling, now, at the memory of Adam laughing at their wedding as he sweeps her up in his arms—that she smells it.

It’s like burnt charcoal; a dry flavor is in her throat, the last coughs of the curse. When she runs into Adam’s room and flicks back the canopies of the bed, she still sees the glowing sparks as they flick and fade around his sleeping self, turned away from her, toward the wall. There is a glow of golden smoke, and then the magic dies.

“A passing qualm,” Belle whispers, to steady herself. “Just the last gasp of a dead curse. Only magic. Only magic.”

He stirs in his sleep and flips over, so she can see his face. Belle just catches back a yell.

Moments ago, he looked like Adam. Now, someone has drawn blue and black plumes shooting from his eyes.

She leans closer. It’s just makeup. Plumette’s handiwork, clearly. But where—and when?—she was in this room moments ago, and his face was clean and sweet. And Plumette is in the other wing, busy arranging flowers for tonight’s ball.

Adam’s eyes flick open, and they are frosted blue. There is a tense moment: Belle, ready for the magic, stares down at her husband without a word.

“Send for Lumiere,” he murmurs, and flips back over again.

Belle retreats, and is almost at the hall when he calls again.

“Oh, and girl? Shut the door on your way out.”

~~~to be continued, if I remember~~~

Too Forgiving

I’m in the mood for something a little angsty and a little fluffy. Who better to be in a angsty/ fluffy fic than Draco Malfoy. Hope you guys like it! 

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Muggle Born! Reader 

Requested: Nope

Warnings: Swearing 


You bounded up to Draco after dinner, ginning like a little kid at the thought of spending time with your boyfriend. As you reached him, you hugged his arm, which wasn’t an uncommon occurrence; this time something was off. You knew something had been bothering him for weeks now, but you just couldn’t put your finger on what and he wouldn’t tell you. He jerked his arm out of your grip. Pouting, you tipped your head to the side. 

“What?” You asked. 

“Get your filthy hands off me, (L/N),” He growled. You flinched, not expecting that response. Your (E/C) eyes widened as you looked at him. God, he didn’t look right. The shadows under his eyes said that he hadn’t gotten anywhere near enough sleep. 

“Dray, are you alright?” You asked, stepping closer to him. He pulled away from you again. 

“Are you deaf? Get the hell away from me,” He snapped. You let your outstretched hands drop to your sides. You stared at him, wishing you knew what he was so worked up about. You began to rack your brain for anything you’d done that could have upset him like this. Nothing came up. 

“Woah, calm down, love. Tell me what’s wrong,” You said, trying to stay patient with him. 

“You. Now sod off, (L/N).” You blinked at him, confused. What exactly had you done? He turned and began to sweep away. For lack of a better idea, you grabbed his hand. Turning back to you, he barely paid any attention to you, instead focusing on his hand with a look of mild disgust. 

“First of all, don’t talk to me like that. Second, what did I do?” His grey eyes found your (E/C) ones, turning to steel the second they met. You winced at the sight. 

“I do as I please,” He said, throwing on a mask of cool indifference. God, that riled you up a bit. Your temper flared. 

“Draco Malfoy, I am your girlfriend. I demand to know what’s got you acting like such a prick,” You snarled, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“No, (L/N), you’re not,” He sighed, throwing you a pitying look. You raised an eyebrow. This was coming from the man who, just this morning, told you that he loved you no matter what. 

“Since when?” You asked. That took the wind out of your sails. 

“I would never disgrace the Malfoy family name by dating a talentless, classless, simple, grotesque, little mudblood. Much less loving one,” He purred. A sick smirk graced his face, the face you fell in love with. Tears sprung in your eyes and your hands began to shake. 

There was that word. That nasty, ugly, terrible word. Mudblood. That wasn’t a name he’d ever called you, no matter how bad the fight got (and you fought regularly enough). Other’s had called you that awful name, but you didn’t care about them. Draco was the only person it killed you to hear such a thing drop from his lips. The lips you’d kissed so many times. The lips that claimed they loved you so many times. You worked your jaw and clenched your shaking fists fishing for something, anything, to say. Nothing except for a ragged sob came out. 

Turning on your heal, you tore towards the Gryffindor dorms as quickly as you could. As you ran, you shot past the Golden Trio. They yelled for you to stop, but you didn’t, you couldn’t, your legs wouldn’t let you. Faintly, you heard them running after you. You didn’t want them to run after you; you wanted him. Finally, when you reach the dorm, you slammed the door, locked it, and then allowed your legs to give out under you. Sliding down against the door, you let yourself sob pathetically. 


“Let me in, (Y/N),” Hermione begged. It had been over an hour since you locked yourself in the dorms with no explanation, though you were sure they knew it had something to do with Draco. You made no move to open the door. You really weren’t up to an ‘I told you so’ speech from her. Part of your brain scolded you for thinking she would do that, another part offering to allow yourself to sink into the pain of what had happened.  

“Go away, ‘Mione,” You sobbed, miserably. 

“Whatever that git did to make you cry, I’ll kill him for it,” Harry said with fire in his voice. You were sure that it was meant to make you feel better. It didn’t. 

“Maybe she shouldn’t have dated Malfoy in the first place.” Thump. “I’m just sayin’.” Ron with as impeccable timing as ever. Despite the fact that he was just trying to help, you wanted to smack him in the mouth. 

“Come on, (Y/N). You’ll have to open the door at some point, the rest of the girls have to sleep in there, you know,” Hermione said, softly. 

“Please just leave me alone,” You cried, burying your head in your arms. Soft muttering came from just outside the door for a moment. 

“Alohomora,” She whispered. The door unlocked with a soft click and the trio stepped inside. Finding you on the floor, they shared a look then picked up, moving you to a bed. Hermione’s bed because it was closest. 

“Come on, (Y/N), don’t cry over, Malfoy. He’s not worth it,” Harry said, putting his arm around you. You sucked in a deep breath and sobbed again. Ron leaned over, offering you a pumpkin pasty. Leave it to a Weasley to go straight to food in order to comfort someone, not that you turned it down. 

“You said that to Hermione once; she at least got to punch him in the face,” You said, rubbing your eyes. 

“What the bloody hell happened anyway?” Ron asked as you ate the treat. You sniffled, Hermione offering you a tissue. 

“He broke up with me,” You said, shakily. The boys threw each other a slightly confused look. Hermione waited, knowing there would be more. You couldn’t seem to get the rest of the words out. 

“And?” She prodded softly, lest you start crying again. 

“He told me that he’d never disgrace the Malfoy’s by dating a talentless, classless, stupid, ugly, little mudblood,” You whispered, not wanting to believe that the blond boy you loved so much would actually say that. 

“He said what!! Oh, I’ll hex him into the next dimension!” Hermione fumed, grabbing her wand. You touched her arm, shaking your head. 

“Don’t. Please don’t.” They all stared at you as if you’d grown a second head. 

“What do you mean ‘don’t’? (Y/N), he called you…” Ron seethed, standing next to Hermione.  

“I know what he called me!” You yelled. Ron dropped back down to where he was sitting as Harry and Hermione watched you cautiously. You looked down at your hands which resided in your lap. “Sorry. I suppose I don’t feel quite myself.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Ron said, patting your knee. 

“You should get some sleep,” Harry said, rubbing your shoulder. You nodded, numbly. You felt all cried out, all yelled out, as if your insides had been scooped out with a spoon. 

“We’ll be in the Common Room if you need us,” Hermione said. You nodded, slipping into bed. 

“Goodnight,” You muttered. A chorus of goodnights rang back.


It was nearly two in the morning and you still couldn’t sleep. You were still hurting over what had happened and still concerned about Draco. The way he looked just didn’t seem right to you. You pictured his face. Angular, too angular, like he’d lost weight and you could fit your entire wardrobe into the bags under his eyes. His eyes. They were dull, yet oddly frantic. The usual cool silver of them had been replaced by a hollow grey. There was no way you could sleep with all of this bouncing around in your mind. 

Sighing, you got out of bed and made your way to the astronomy tower. You always went there to think. Funnily enough, this is where you met Draco. Back in first year the two of you startled each other when you saw him coming up the stairs and he saw you sitting in the window. Now that you thought about it, Draco might be there. Part of you highly doubted it. As you made your way up the stairs, you saw a shadow of someone sitting in the window. Draco. 

“I thought you might be here,” He said, not turning to look at you. You blinked, wondering briefly if you were dreaming. 

“What do you care?” You asked, no venom in your words. You joined him in the window, sitting an arm’s length away. He glanced at you. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” His voice was so broken, like he’d spent hours crying as well. You looked out over the school grounds, the moon illuminating everything in a different way than the sun. It put you at ease. 

“Are you?” You asked. It wasn’t meant to come out so nasty, but you were hurt. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him flinch. 

Yes.” 

“I believe you,” You sighed, kicking your bare feet in the wind. 

“You do?” He asked, disbelief laced his words. You nodded, pushing a loose strand of (H/C) hair behind your ear. 

“Yeah, but one thing is still bothering me,” You said. Still, you didn’t look at him. 

“What’s that?” The way he said that made you think he knew exactly what was going to come out of your mouth. 

“What’s going on? With you, I mean,” You asked, finally turning to look at him. The moon cast a shadow on his face, outlining his profile. Sharp nose, sloping forehead, soft cheek bones, and a strong chin: the same profile you’d seen many times in the same place. This time, it was more pained and sad. You could tell by the way his head tilted down. 

“You don’t want to know,” He whispered. Reaching over, you took a cold hand in yours. 

“I do.” So he told you. Everything. How much he regretted saying those things to you.The dark mark. Voldemort. The impending war. Suddenly, you felt very small, like you and Draco sitting in the tower were just specks floating in space. You could only imagine how he felt being stuck in the middle of all of this. By the time he’d finished, you could see that he was holding back tears. You hand was still in his with a death grip, like he thought if he let go you would disappear. 

“I’m scared, (Y/N), I’m so scared,” He wept, quietly. He didn’t look at you, but there was no hiding the tears. 

“I forgive you,” You hummed, scooting closer to him. You picked up his hand, gripping it more fiercely in your own. “And I love you, Draco Malfoy.” 

Draco brought his forehead to yours, tears still streaming down his pale cheeks. You waited, looking into his liquid silver eyes. He wanted to say something, but his words were smothered by your lips. He held you close, hands tightening on the back of your night shirt, keeping you there. Your fingers slipped into his platinum blond locks. His tongue swiped your bottom lip and you opened your mouth obligingly. Tongues danced together, saying without words that you loved one another. It wasn’t until you parted that you realized you had started crying to. 

“You’re too forgiving, darling. I love you, (Y/N) (L/N),” He whispered against your lips. You smiled, swallowing his words by bringing his lips back you your own. 

On the subject of Lauren's and aquatic tortoises

“I got you fam. So like when laurens was a kid he didn’t have any siblings or friends and his dad was kinda just whatever and his mom was…I actually don’t know much of anything about her :( because but I feel like I read somewhere she died young

Anywho so we have little John laurens smol bean chillin on this giant plantation that his dad owned (yes his dad owned several slaves and yes John Laurens was a hard core abolitionist) so he liked to draw and write and one day he stumbled across some turtles. So he was like hey these titles can be my friend! And he sketched them-he was a really great artist but the turtles he found were very weird looking turtles so most people just think he was a bad drawer.

And he wrote like a nature journal thing about them and those turtles sketches are John Laurens’s legacy.

I mean if you go outside the Hamilton fandom 97.8% of people will not even know his name, you might find 2% who know about the turtles and the other .2% know all about his awesome dream with the first black battallion and how passionate he was about treating all people like people.”

Huge props to @hamiltales for the information and the wonderful writing of this lol
Ty bby