and its been a while since the last time he wore one

{PART 27} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; As death enters the room to claim a soul; so does life. Who shall live and who shall die - as you begin to wonder…is this really the end?

“And as he looked upon her face amidst the madness, he saw everything he held close depart his world; while she slipped into the next”

|| Warning: This chapter contains mentions of blood and some scenes that readers may find upsetting ||

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time)

{Part 1} // {Part 26} {Part 27} {Part 28}

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Without 🛋️

A/N: This piece is very long and has taken me a long time to write for several reasons. But I hope this is what these lovely people hoped for when they sent in their requests (x x x)! Love you all and I hope you have a great day :)

Harry had always been in awe of you.  

From the moment he had you in his life, his heart had been filled with your gentle compassion. He had admired your instinctive kindness, personally witnessing the way you’d give a piece of your heart to everyone in your life. “Being kind is all that I can give” he’d hear you say and it breaks him just a little when he watches your smile falter for a fraction of a second, before you arch your eyes and nod your head slightly towards him in reassurance. You’re doing it again, he gathers, putting up a front to satisfy the people around you. Making sure they remained lost in their pursuit of happiness while you’re left alone to pick up your own shattered pieces.

Harry had regretted that night the most. The first, of many, where your heart felt particularly heavy as you smiled and whispered “I’m fine” to his concerned eyes. The silk of your dress clumped at your shoulders as you walked away from him then, away from a night of celebrating your recent promotion at work and into a cab to nurse your friend that had gulped too much tequila to shove away his own misfortunate thoughts.

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Break Me [Draco x Reader, One]

A/N: Haha let me start off by saying I honestly don’t believe Draco would be the cheater type, but I love angst and I love Draco so ,,, Also!! Don’t know if anyone would be interested, but I’m probably going to make a separate Hamilton Imagine blog!! I love Hamilton and all the characters and all of the cast members! Anyways, enjoy!! Love you all!!

 

Word Count: 1,636

 

Warnings: Angst. Cheating. Self blame. Cursing.

 

Summary: (Name) gave everything to him, but he wasn’t willing to give back.

 

Requested: No lol im a jerk


Chapter Two / Three / Four / Five


Masterlist


Originally posted by daz-zling-bling

The sight of (Name) and Draco Malfoy turned heads. The mere thought of (Name) and Draco Malfoy turned heads.

(Name), perhaps the most loyal, caring, and kind girl anyone would ever know somehow ended up head over heels for Draco Malfoy. She would follow him around, a sweet smile never faltering. He would look pretty content with himself, arms linked with (Name’s) own. It didn’t take much to realize that (Name) was very attractive in a dreamy, almost fantasy like way. In fact, multiple men and women had asked for her affections. She only replied with a sweet smile and a polite rejection, claiming she already had a boyfriend.

Draco was no idiot. He knew that many people wished to have his girlfriend for themselves.

At first he merely got jealous at this. How dare someone fantasize over his girlfriend?!

As days grew into weeks, and weeks grew into months, his jealousy turned into pride. She was another thing he had that many people, including Harry Potter, didn’t have.

The two started off hopelessly in love. Starry eyes and rosy cheeks were exchanged. Longing looks and sweet messages were sent back and forth.

Over time, Draco became more and more distant. However, (Name) stayed the same, remaining completely infatuated with him. Draco, from a first glance, didn’t seem to be as in love with (Name) as she was with him. 


The First Month.

 

Of course, like many couples, (Name) and Draco had a phase where nothing else seemed to matter but the two of them and their love for each other. It was almost as if they couldn’t be apart from one another or they would fall ill.

“Draco! Draco, come here!” (Name) chirped with the same giddy smile playing at her cheeks.

“Yes? (Name), what is it? Are you injured?” His voice was frantic and shaky. (Name) laughed and shook her head. “No, silly!” She spread her arms out wide. “Come here!”

Draco did so with a smile, leaning into her embrace. “What is all this about?”

“Mmm… Nothing, really. I just wanted to cuddle you. I love you, you know?” Draco chuckled softly and wrapped his arms around her, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling of his beloved breathing softly into his chest. They didn’t seem to notice the dozens of students amongst them stare in disgust, envy, or even admiration.

“And I love you, (Name). Always.”


The Seventh Month.

 

While (Name) was in fact hopelessly, blindly in love, she was no idiot. She noticed when Draco avoided her affections or avoided her in general. She didn’t pay much attention to it, though. She assumed she was being clingy, and her herself was at fault. Sometimes the two would be together, a joyful smile ever present on (Name’s) face. But she noticed they only ever seemed to be affectionate around each other in front of crowds.

The thought that Draco may be using her crept in the back of her mind. He wouldn’t, would he?

No… He couldn’t. He loved her.

At least… That’s what she told herself.

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Knuckles: Boxer!Ashton (Part 3)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six

Pulling up.

Coming down x

You take a final look in the vanity mirror, adjusting bits of your done-up hair to reach a balanced mixture of messy yet elegant. There’s a certain strand that’s been having a time taunting you all day, springing from it’s bobbypin every chance it gets, and you decide to just gift it the freedom it’s worked so hard for, removing the clip at the last second and dropping it on the dresser. Black tie events are far from your forté, but you’re trying your best to play the part for Ashton. The last time you wore a dress this long or heels this high had to be your senior prom, and the jitters in your stomach make you feel like you’re getting ready for it all over again: nervous to see your date, paranoid about something going wrong, trying too hard to impress people you don’t know. At least this time you can look forward to alcohol being there.

You grab your phone and a clutch full of necessities before heading out the door, slowly making your way down the steps as you’re reminded how difficult it is to walk in heels. Whose bright idea was it to invent these things? They’ll be kicked off by the end of the night, no doubt. Your feet are already starting to hate you.

At the edge of the sidewalk a tall figure awaits your descent. He’s sporting a classic black and white tuxedo perfectly tailored to accentuate his striking physique, a thin tie hung from the collar rather than a bow. It’s quite a contrast to the athletic shorts and t-shirts you’re used to seeing him in, but you definitely aren’t complaining. The mop of brown curls that usually fall over his eyes have been trimmed and styled for the occasion, and the two week old beard he claimed he was too lazy to shave has disappeared from his chiseled face, cleaning him up significantly. Ashton has always been more of the ruggedly handsome type to you; the kind of person who looks his best straight after rolling out of bed in the morning. However this new side of him, one so sharp and expensive, inflicts serious damage to your will power, and it takes every ounce of your conscious control to not just blow off the event and drag him straight back up to your apartment.

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Heights

Originally posted by wonderlandgirlforever

Peter Parker x Shy/Scared Reader

Summary: Even though Peter’s been busy with saving the world, you’ve been feeling neglected and unwanted. He notices and decides to do something fun to cheer you up. 

Word Count: 2,453 (my longest one so far, holla)

Warnings: heights, panic attack, language, fluff, sad stuff. Let me know if I missed any. 

A/N: Alrrright guys, hopefully this turns out okay. I was thinking about making this into a series depending on how much you guys dig it. If you do, then I will post all about what I’m going to do for the series to see if you guys are interested. Sound good? As always, feedback is definitely appreciated. I never get any, so I don’t know what I’m doing wrong or right. Enjoy!


Ever since Peter told you he was the big ‘ol Spiderman, it felt like your guys’ weekly hangouts and movie nights were coming to an end. Of course you understand that he’s saving the world and stopping the bad guys, but it leaves you worried and afraid for his well being. He always seems distracted around you and it fills you with a darkness. Telling Peter would make you seem selfish, so you bury it, hoping it won’t poke its way through. 

Being the shy, reserved, person you are, you definitely had difficulty talking to Peter, especially since you’ve always had a never ending crush on him. After a while of trying to ask him if he could hang out, you stopped. It wasn’t worth the pain of going through to only be rejected once again. 

However, what you didn’t know was that Peter noticed you putting up your walls again. He didn’t want to lose you and decided he was definitely going to do something about it. Starting tonight

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Supertuned

Ok, so this is a imagine that I’ve had in my head for a while now. Enjoy, My Lovelies. xx

Tag list: @hamartiamacguffin @illisea @thegreatficmaster @lovemesomepie85 @torn-and-frayed

If you want me to add you to my tag list, shoot me through a message and let me know. 

Dean looked up as the Y/C/H hunter walked into the viewing room. Her hair fell loosely around her face, the soft Hollywood curls framing it perfectly. His eyes wandered over her body, the way her jeans hugged her arse perfectly, the black tank she wore that was slightly see through, the deep red bra underneath that showed off some of her best assets. Her silver cross hung down over the top of her breasts, the diamonds shining in the light. Her heels clicked on the polished concrete floor, he glanced down at the ankle boots, that was a new looked. The look was Y/N all over, but a sexed up Y/N. He frowned at the duffels in her hand.

‘Hunt?’

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Still in Love

Hi! Hope you’ll enjoy this short one shot. It’s a request based on the song “Somebody that I used to know” by Gotye. It’s only loosely inspired by it though, the song is despite its lyrics rather upbeat while I imagine this story to be set in a sadder atmosphere. 

Plot: H and Y/N used to have a bond until they cut each other out of their lives.

Warnings: None.

Gorgeous picture isn’t mine.

Harry found himself unable to look away. All his eyes could see was me, just as if my frame was the magnet to his attention. It was as though I wasn’t surrounded by a mass of people in a barely lit room and thick, humid air. His gaze was only drawn to me because to him I was illuminated. The air around me glowed. I might as well have stood in an empty room or lain in his bed, his attention couldn’t have been on me any more.

Harry’s jaw tensed. The sweet taste of the soft-drink on his tongue and the loud music blasted through the big speakers would normally have his shoulders relaxed and his body moving along to the rhythm. He would be enjoying his night out with friends and colleagues. But this time he couldn’t.
If anything Harry hadn’t ever been this tense whilst partying before. The tips of his fingers twitched, his lips were raw from his teeth pulling and biting into them and his hair was a mess.

All of which he truly could not understand.
How was Harry’s mind so incapable of finding an escape from the worry and slight fear his body was tormented with? Ever since he’d noticed me singing along to the music and laughing with my head thrown back and dancing in the middle of the floor, his blood had turned to ice and his skin heated.
His eyes followed the movements of my hips swinging, feet jumping and arms raising. The tip of his tongue pressed against his teeth when he noticed my exposed neck and collarbones and his skin prickled.
Harry’s stomach turned with guilt because he really shouldn’t be giving me that kind of attention. I wasn’t his after all. Not even as a friend. Nothing.

Still, if only to make sure I was fine, his pupils continued to follow my every move and they narrowed when he noticed me stumble a little, losing my balance momentarily. It seemed as though I’d had one if not many drinks too much. He moved to get up and come to my aid before his head had even caught up with it to consciously make that decision and before it could tell him not to move.
Harry didn’t know me. Not anymore, for the matter and it was no longer his job to come to my protection either.

And still, his hands reached out to carefully nudge people out of his way and his big feet moved quickly and steady in order to reach me faster. Harry was impatient and he couldn’t have said why.
One of his friends even made the effort to call after him, truly surprised at his sudden movements, but went silent the moment he noticed who it was Harry’s gaze had found. He knew Harry hadn’t heard him, knew there was no reaching him where his head had gone.

There had once been a time when Harry and I would lose ourselves in the other. When the whole room could feel our connection as though an electric energy was caused by it. The house could have erupted into flames, the room flooded by water or the earth broken open - we wouldn’t have noticed. Not when our fingers touched the others skin, if only momentarily. We would have eyes only for the other, words meant for no one else to hear and in truth Harry missed it as much as I longed for those times to come back.

I turned around when I heard him say my name for the first time in over a year. My blood was frozen, my skin light on fire and my heart flattered in my chest as if it tried to fly away. In my hurry and desperation to see him I lost my balance once more and stumbled into his chest rather forcefully. My stomach dropped at the sight of his beautiful features and a smile forced itself onto my lips.

Harry. He visibly hadn’t changed at all and lost nothing of his beauty.

“Harry.” My voice was shaking but fierce, with no doubt in its tone at all.

He chuckled quietly with the softest smile on his face while his hands found my rips to rest on hesitantly. Though his hold was firm, it was a gesture meant to steady me, keep me from falling and getting hurt, but oh if it didn’t weaken my knees even further. And I fell. Metaphorically speaking.

“Hi,” he hummed, his face leant in so his lips were near my ear. I shuddered when his warm breath fanned my skin. His hands brought me closer to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I replied cheerfully, my arms raising to rest on top of his shoulders with a wide smile. The embarrassment I felt when my voice broke was over quickly and though Harry’s smile told me he’d noticed, it was alright. The kind expression he wore and the alcohol numbing my brain were relaxing me enough to not blush at the uncommon closeness between us.

Maybe the lack of a barrier between us had become something unfamiliar, but when my fingers found the back of his neck and his soft curls to play with, I felt at home. He was truly here, in my arms. The softness of his strands was too addictive to let go of again. I normally wouldn’t have ever dared to be handsy with him, which of course didn’t mean that I didn’t long to be. Touching your ex’s hair and embracing his shoulders after not having seen him in 14 months wasn’t exactly what was considered a great idea, was it?

But Harry wasn’t really any ex. We’d never been an exclusive couple, never went on a date or got around to be introduced to parents. Harry and I were… in the lack of a better word Friends with benefits. It started one night mostly as a half drunken mistake and then continued until our relationship had transformed into something more. We’d hook up occasionally when we were in need for relief, then when we were in need of a shoulder to lean on and then when we were in need to be near each other. Our feelings for each other heightened and grew in strength until when we were in public and somebody asked what we were, neither of us knew what to say anymore. The term friends didn’t suffice, fuck-buddies sounded too meaningless.
So we avoided a label all together which was what had brought us to an end.

“Are you okay?” I asked him, trying to adapt a neutral tone. My brows knitted together and I observed his face closely, wanting to be sure he wouldn’t lie. Harry didn’t drink often, hardly ever got properly drunk. I feared he’d changed since we’d last spoken.

Harry nodded though his gaze darkened. Instinctively my hold on his locks tightened in fear he’d pull away.

“I’m good,” Harry muttered, coming closer once more so he could talk into my ear, “But I’ll be even better if you let me take you home.”

My stomach dropped and I let out a shocked gasp. He flinched when I shifted, almost tumbling once more and frowned at me trying to pull away.

“You sure are forward, aren’t you,” I joked half heartily, my voice doing a poor job at covering up the surprise.

Harry’s eyes widened, his head catching up to what he’d said.

“S'not what I mean!” Harry stressed, “M'not trying- Y/N you know m'not that sleazy. Was a stupid way of phrasing and-”

“Harry,” I laughed, “I know. Didn’t sound like you for a minute so I know you didn’t intend it.”

My hands ran down his shoulders and squeezed his arms. “But why do you want me to come with you?

The green of his orbs sparkled and my gaze dropped to the pink of his pillow lips. "Because I really miss you.”

….

His room looked nothing like I remembered. And that saddened me. The soft blue colored sheets, sheets I’d loved to sleep in due to their unbelievable softness had been replaced by plain white ones. Where once the stacks of books we used to read in to one another before falling asleep had been on his nightstand, was now a quartet of scented candles. I frowned and stepped closer. I’d kept up with what he’d been up to and had only rolled my eyes at his newly discovered obsession with candles, but now that I stood right in front of four my fingers twitched.

Orange. Lavender. Hibiscus. Almond.

“Is water okay? I can make you a tea if you want. Think I even got your favorite somewhere.”

Harry stood in the doorway, watching me with a mixed expression I found difficult to read. But I understood. It must have looked as strange to him as it felt for me, given that the last time I’d been in this exact bedroom we’d both been crying our hearts out.

“Water is fine,” I replied with a hesitant smile, “Thank you.”

His feet were slow when he approached me and the invitation to sit on his bed was spoked low. Any confidence Harry had shown back in the bar was lost, just like my bravery was wearing off with the remains of alcohol leaving my system. The more I sobered up, the stranger the whole situation became to me.

“Please, don’t get sick,” Harry requested quietly, whilst helping me sit down on his bed. I could only assume he was reading my pale cheeks and discomfort as a sign of too much alcohol in my blood. “Got new sheets.”

“I noticed.” The disappointment was evident in my voice and I forced a smile to cover it up, “And I’m alright.”

Why were the sheets gone? It was silly to feel nostalgic about them, but why hadn’t he kept the material we’d spent hours of sleeping under? Where we’d made plans, confessed dreams and caused giggles to fill the room? Had he thrown them away just like that and replaced them by silly blue ones? How could he?

“Where are they?”

“Who?” his face wore an expression of pure confusion.

I let my fingers touch the top of his mattress. It felt wrong. Not even half as soft as it used to be. “The sheets.”

Harry didn’t reply which was answer enough. I hissed and shook my head. My heart was heavy with a sudden sadness I couldn’t explain and knew was stupid. There was no reason for me to feel crushed over the loss of some blue material I hadn’t lain on in a long time. He’d made a decision I had no place being angry about.

Sensing my crushed feelings Harry shifted beside me, his arms ached to reach out and embrace me but his mind burned with questions he needed answers for.

“Why didn’t you ever call, Y/N?”

We weren’t avoiding the awkwardness, then. We wouldn’t dance around the uncomfortable feelings. My chest moved and my lungs filled with fresh air. One thing I appreciated about Harry was his bravery, one I never possessed. He wasn’t afraid of tackling the difficult conversations.

“I can’t remember how many nights I stayed up staring at my phone with hopes I could never fully let go of.”

“I needed space,” I explained weakly, “Needed to clear my head.”

We sat so close next to each other his knee brushed mine and though it was only a small touch, my eyes could not look away from it. His body heat easily radiated off of me, awakening every cell of my body and speeding up the rhythm of my heart. I wanted more, wanted to be reminded what it felt like to hold him right.

“Clear it from me?” Harry’s quiet voice was laced with sadness, “You shut me out of your life. As if you tried to make it like I’d never touched it.”

Contradicting his words, Harry’s hand found my thigh, giving it an entirely non sexual squeeze, one that let me know he wasn’t angry. My hand pressed on top of his and I looked up to meet his eyes.

“You know what I felt for you, Harry.”

He nodded. “Which is just why I don’t understand.”

It’d been him who’d broken us off. Well, whatever “us” had meant. His solo career had been in its beginnings and he knew he’d need to be free to travel for it, work an impossible amount of hours and be available to anyone always. Anyone, aside form me.

Going solo meant he was busy and that meant that any feelings for him I had developed, did not have any place.
Harry cared for me, wanted me and desired to keep me close, but at the same time he knew that if he let us strengthen our bond even more, we would eventually suffer a heart break. Our connection wasn’t meant to be, not at that time anyway.

“I began to miss you so terribly the moment you closed the door behind you,” I breathed.

Watching him walk out of my apartment was a sight I knew I’d never forget. No matter how many promises of keeping in touch, staying friends and wanting to remain close had been made, I was sure we both knew they were void of true meaning.

Harry had touched my heart. How could I look into his eyes after having been rejected?

I whimpered when his body turned to face mine and shuddered when his hand fount my neck, gently turning my head so I looked up at him.
Harry’s brows were knitted together while his eyes pleaded with mine. My lips parted and my head spun when my own palms found their place on his shoulders, only centimeters away from his collarbones. I yearned to touch his skin.

“But that doesn’t mean you had to cut me off like that,” he whispered.

“Your fear of perhaps not having enough time for me didn’t mean you had to deny us any chance either,” I countered, arching one eyebrow at him.

Relief overcame me when a smile pulled at the corner of his lips and I felt some of the tension in the room shift. “That is true, I suppose.”

His thumb gently caressed the skin of my cheek before trailing along my jaw. Harry shook his lovely head, making his slightly disheveled hair fall into his face. “And both happened despite that I loved you.”

There it was again. The buzz in the air. I moved further up to sit in a crossed legged position across from him, both of my hands still pressed flat to his chest and his eyes closed when the tips of my fingers dared finding the unbuttoned part of his shirt where his warm skin was accessible.

I hummed, a shy smile on my lips.

“You know,” I began in a whisper, “your choice of candles lets me hope there is no past tense to your feelings.”

His nose brushed my cheek and his mouth kissed my shoulder.

My voice shook as I went on: “They are, after all, the scent of the cookies I always made for you, the soap of mine you used to hate and the oil I used to massage your shoulders with when you were stressed.”

A low moan fell from his mouth at the memory and my eyes fell shut.

“And what’s the last scent for?” he asked.

My body was pushed back to lie flat on his mattress and I welcomed him with open arms who finally got to hold him tight again.

“It’s the smell of my hair,” I whispered into the shell of his ear, whimpering when his lips pressed warm kisses to the bare exposed skin of my collarbones. “My shampoo.”

“Maybe s'not in the past tense then,” Harry murmured, grunting when my legs found the familiar place around his hips, “Maybe I still love you.”

“That would be nice,” I gasped when he pressed himself closer against my skin and wanted to cry because it still wasn’t enough.

“Would it?”

“Yes,” my hold tightened, “because I’m as in love with you as I was the day I told you for the first time.”

Hope you liked it! It’s the first story I posted since being officially 19! Ahh!! Love everyone of you who reads my stories, your support means so much. Thank you.

Rest of my stories: 

http://harryimaginedstories.tumblr.com/post/144920695218/masterlist

Air Ducts and Secrets - Peter Parker x Reader Imagine

Word Count: 2,893

Plot: What goes on in the air ducts, stays in the air ducts.

Warnings: honestly its just fluff, cheesy comments, a new girl reference, one swear word (that’s censored), and more fluff. 

Author’s Note: So this is for the monthly song challenge but I literally only put two song lyrics from the song Tomorrow Never Dies by 5SOS. But that’s okay. I might do a part two depending on how well this does. PSA: I love New Girl.

(Lyrics are the sentences in italics)

Lilly’s Imagine

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Breakfast

Summary: You wake up in Steve’s arms after your first night together

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader; College AU!

Word Count: 954

Warnings: implied sexual themes, mentions of sex. No smut though.

A/N: I’m BACK!!! I am done with my exams now and have plenty of time to write. Anyway this is for @bionic-buckyb‘s 5k AU writing challenge. My prompt was: “I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

Originally posted by hothothotgg

The first thing you registered was the warm sunlight on your face, leaving behind a pleasant feeling. Smiling slightly, you kept your eyes closed and allowed your senses to concentrate on the different sensations surrounding you.

Your head laid on a warm pillow, which was incredibly comfy. Smiling wider, you snuggled deeper into your pillow, its comforting scent engulfing you. You felt yourself inhaling and letting out a relaxed sigh.

Moving your legs, you intertwined them with something… else and though you didn’t really knew what it was, you didn’t really care. You were just too relaxed. Your blanket pooled around your hips and you felt a strong arm on your back.

The arm tightened its grip on you and pressed you further against his body. Happily you snuggled against him and decided to slowly open your eyes.

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Million Dollar View

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Request: “Can i request when the reader is insecure about her breast not being full and big like ideal girls but she has a nice butt and seb or Bucky show her breast aren’t all that ;)” - @cute-but-psychoxx

Word Count: 4241

Warning: smut, insecurity

Thank you for the request! I got a little carried away with it because I loved it so much haha! Hope you enjoy!<3

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anonymous asked:

Hello, if you're still taking prompts could you do #33 with Marichat or Ladynoir? (BTW love your stories!)

This is horribly overdue. I’m so sorry this took so long, I was caught up with other stories, life, and just recently suffered a bad case of writer’s block :/ I picked the Ladynoir side of the love square (although it’s probably not in the way you’re thinking). Still, I hope you enjoy this :)


“Something about you makes me want to commit extreme violence.”


You may not know it, but being a noblewoman could be very difficult at times.

Such were the Lady Marinette’s thoughts as she finally managed to sneak away to the snack table. A young Lord had been trying to request a dance with her for the better part of ten minutes, causing her to nearly flee every time he came in her sights. Luckily, just when she thought she was cornered, she was able to pair him with her best friend.

“I’m going to kill you,” Lady Alya had silently mouthed when she was led to the dance floor.

Marinette giggled to herself as she swiped a chocolate chip cookie from the very top of the pile on the silver tray. Not many women were eating them in order to ‘maintain their figure’ but Marinette didn’t really care about that. She’d eat what she wanted, whenever she wanted.

She looked around at the sea of guests, at all the colorful masks that adorned their faces. Her parents decided to host a masquerade ball, thinking it to be romantic and mysterious. Marinette thought that the idea was intriguing, but she didn’t really think anyone to be romantic or mysterious. It was just like any other ball she’d been to, with no one in particular standing out among the crowd.

She wanted to tell her parents that real life was vastly different from fairy tales, but she knew it would crush their hearts, especially since they wanted her to have a whirlwind romance of her own.

Marinette sighed in defeat, resigning herself to picking out a stranger to dance with just to appease her hopeless romantic parents.

“Is the princess not having a good time?” a masculine voice teasingly drawled.

Startled, her head whipped around to see a man leaning against a nearby pillar. He wore the traditional finely-made garb befitting of someone of the noble class, yet it was completely black, save the swirling designs of green beside the buttons on the otherwise coal black jacket.

Around his equally green eyes sat a black domino mask, but with cat ears on the ends. His blond hair lacked a refined style, instead the golden locks were wildly tousled. However, instead of looking like a common vagrant, the look suited him perfectly.

His lips were stretched into a wide smile, a row of pearly-white teeth exposed in the process. She noticed the man had rather nicely chiseled features. This, combined with all his other traits, made him exceptionally handsome.

However, her heart was already taken.

“I am not a princess, sir,” she replied, a corner of her mouth arching in interest. She had a feeling that whoever this man was, he was going to prove to be riveting company.

“You could’ve fooled me, with how every man’s eyes are fixated on you alone,” he purred flirtatiously, abandoning his spot by the column to saunter closer to her.

She snorted in mirth, finding that she liked this stranger. Sure, his flirting was a little over-the-top, but it wasn’t at all creepy like how some lords spoke.

“I find that hard to believe,” she disputed with a grin. “It doesn’t matter anyway, since I’m not interested in any of them.”

“Too good for them?” he asked. His tone was still teasing, yet his eyes shined with something else. For a moment she thought it seemed like he was testing her, but she quickly wrote it off as paranoia.

“No, it’s not that. The person that I really want to dance with isn’t here,” she admitted. She had a mask on, so no one except for Alya knew who she really was. So she supposed it was okay to tell a few truths for one night, provided she was careful, of course.

She sighed, recalling how her statement had been all too true. Prince Adrien was far out of reach, and honestly she shouldn’t have expected him to show up to her modest estate, even if it was for a ball. She met him a few months ago when his father had invited all the noble families to a formal dinner, hers included.

They didn’t get off on the right foot, though.

When it was time for the dinner, she ended up being one of the last few to enter the dining room. She had been caught up in a conversation with Alya in the sitting room beforehand, delaying her arrival. When she did show, she was dismayed when she found a splash of red wine decorating the bottom of her cherry wood chair, with the Crown Prince himself squatting next to it.

Since she couldn’t berate him without receiving a harsh reprimand, she chose to coldly glare at him as she picked up a napkin from her place on the table to wipe it. Prince Adrien tried to stutter something out, something probably apologetic, but she silently rebutted every attempt for speaking.

Finally, when the dinner was over, it was discovered that it had started to rain. It was sunny before, so naturally no one brought umbrellas with them, thus resigning everyone to a wet and soaking fate.

However, right as she was about to step outside into the steady rain, the Prince appeared…with a black umbrella in hand. He explained that he was about to wipe off the wine when she had suddenly appeared. He didn’t try to soil her dress at all, and was simply in the right place (to clean the chair), but at the wrong time.

Hearing his honest words and expression persuaded her to forgive him. Afterward, he gave her the umbrella to use so she wouldn’t get wet.

And that was the moment when she fell in love with the sweet, unsuspecting prince.

They saw each other a few more times after that. He was just as friendly and amicable, but she could barely respond to him without embarrassing stutters and stammers. He was perfect in her eyes, so excuse her for being a little anxious to talk to him.

“Who do you admire that so rudely didn’t show up?” the stranger asked with a quirk of his lips.

She shook her head. There was no way she could tell anyone that she was interested in the Prince, mask or not.

“Sorry, but I can’t tell you that, Chat Noir.”

She supposed it was a good nickname; it suited him considering his attire. Besides, she couldn’t keep mentally referring to him as a stranger or just simply ‘he’.

“Chat Noir, hm?” he repeated, a far-away look appearing in his eyes as he stared above her head, a finger tapping chin in thought.

He grinned, returning his attention to her.

“I like it. Although I suppose you need a nickname now, too. How about…” he trailed off, inspecting her up and down to determine the perfect moniker. Abruptly he snapped his fingers, something that Marinette didn’t understand how he accomplished, considering he wore black gloves.

“Ladybug!” he exclaimed, smiling widely. “For your red dress and black mask. And it’s also perfect since black cats are a symbol of bad luck while ladybugs are for good luck. We’re like yin and yang, my Lady.”

The last two words rolled off his tongue in such an alluring way that caused the Lady’s heartbeat to momentarily quicken. With a light dusting of pink on her cheeks, she slightly shook her head, dismissing the sudden spike of attraction for him. ‘Chat Noir’ was just a charmingly amusing character, one that she didn’t romantically admire.

“Ladybug,” she echoed aloud, pursing her lips as she considered the potential identity. It wasn’t until a few seconds later that she seemingly decided, presenting Chat a coy smirk. “I like it.”

He mirrored her expression with a gleeful gleam of his own in his eyes.

“I knew you would,” he boasted in jest, straightening his shoulders and raising his chin in the air, giving off the appearance of a conceited aristocrat. She smiled and rolled her eyes when he placed a flattered hand over his heart. “Since everyone loves my ideas.”

“Really? And who would ‘everyone’ be?” she asked sarcastically, playing his game. “The other stray tomcats in the village?”

“My Lady, whoever said I was a stray? For all you know, I could be of royal pedigree.” His lips curved into a strangely unsettling smirk, as though he knew something she didn’t. “For all you know, I could be the Crown Prince!”

Marinette laughed, making sure to quickly press her lips together as she brought a hand to her mouth, trying to politely cover up the loud chortles. After all, it was rude for a well-bred lady to have her mouth wide open in laughter. Women were supposed to be demure and polite, always looking at their best.

She hated this social construct, yet she was doomed to follow through with its requirements anyway.

Once her giggles died down, she turned to face the grinning feline again.

“I’ve met Prince Adrien before, and I can confidently say that you’re nothing like him.”

“Indeed?” he remarked, almost sly.

“Yes, indeed,” she insisted with another giggle. “Prince Adrien isn’t like you at all.”

“And if he was? Would you admire him any less?”

Marinette visibly flinched, taken aback by his conclusion. With disbelieving eyes and reddened cheeks, she ducked her head down to avoid his eyes. How did he realize she had feelings for the Prince? This was bad, very bad…if he knew who she was he could tell Adrien, and then Adrien would never love her back and word would spread and she would become the laughing stock of the entire kingdom! She would be lonely for the rest of her life and die an old maid, while Adrien would pick a beautiful and worthy princess to marry…

She forced herself to take a deep breath through her nose.

Relax, Marinette. Maybe you could convince him that he’s wrong.

With that mental pep talk, she straightened her shoulders and faced him again.

“I don’t admire him, well, not more so than anyone else. I don’t admire him in the sense that you’re thinking of.”

“Really? Because from what I hear you do admire him, more so than anyone else.” He smirked wickedly, eliciting a nervous gulp from the stiffening maiden.

“H-How-?”

“The ‘how’ isn’t important,” he quickly dismissed with a careless wave of his hand. “What matters is the ‘why’. Why do you fancy Prince Adrien?” He clasped his hands behind his back before walking in front of her line of vision. She was positive that if they were alone, he’d be circling her like a hawk about to catch its prey.

“Is it for his riches? His looks? His palace? Or is it simply a matter of competition, in which you must win the grand prize?”

Marinette narrowed her eyes. Nevermind that this cocky feline somehow knew who she was (he didn’t say her name, but he had heard of her feelings for Prince Adrien, so therefore he must know her identity), but how dare he assume her affections were based on purely artificial things?

“Something about you makes me want to commit extreme violence,” she informed him, her tone hard as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“So it is true, then?” he guessed with a bitter grin, followed by a scoff. “I guess our dear Prince will forever be resigned to a life without true love. Pity, I heard he was interested in quite a lovely woman, too. Warm, kind, a bit clumsy, but beautiful inside and out. Tis a shame, although I suppose it’s very well that he caught himself before he fell completely.”

Marinette was now glaring daggers where Chat Noir stood, her teeth bared in an infuriated snarl. She ignored the jab to her heart from his mention of another woman that Prince Adrien was interested in, instead focusing her anger on his grave mistakes of her character.

“Now you listen here, Chat Noir,” she spat, pointing a finger to his chest. “My feelings for Prince Adrien are real, and not based on his title, or his riches, or looks. I didn’t even like him until I saw how kind, forgiving, and generous he could be. I love him for who he is as a person, not for what he could afford or what he could give me.”

She took a deep breath, her fury beginning to simmer.

“And while I know I have no chance of him ever returning my feelings,” she continued in a much less hostile tone than before, bordering on disheartened acceptance, “I just want to make it clear that I do truly care for him…even if he loves someone else.”

The man in front of her stared seemingly in awe at her words. His green eyes were blown wide as his cheeks gradually shifted into a rosy color. For a few, tense seconds all he could seem to do was peer at her with an emotion Marinette couldn’t place, his reaction garnering her confusion.

Why was he looking at her as if seeing her for the first time? It caused a shiver to run down her spine, a good thing or a bad thing, she wasn’t certain.

At last, he appeared to snap out of his self-induced trance, a corner of his mouth curling up in a fond smile.

“I apologize for making such inaccurate assumptions of your feelings, My Lady. I see now that I was in the wrong.”

He held out a gloved hand to her.

“Would you allow me to make it up to you with a dance?”

Marinette pursed her lips, not relenting on the glower she sent his way.

“How is a dance with you going to make it up to me?”

“Well, I’ve been told I’m an excellent dancer,” he boasted, shooting her a wink. “And I’ve been trained since early childhood in the art.” His smile faltered as his expression shifted from cheekiness to remorseful. “I really am sorry for making those false accusations about you. It was completely unjustified. Can you forgive me?”

Marinette sighed, her features relaxing in the process.

She supposed she could understand where he was coming from, since most girls only wanted Prince Adrien for his title or looks. How was he to know that she was different, that she didn’t care about that stuff?

Well, she did consider him to be the most handsome, gorgeous man she ever saw, but that wasn’t why she liked him.

Anyway, Chat was just making a conclusion most likely based on the Prince’s numerous, other female admirers. He was also quick to apologize once she informed him on how wrong he was.

She was set on dancing with Prince Adrien and him alone for the night, but it was obvious that he wasn’t going to show up. And, she’s been itching to dance…

“Alright, Chat Noir, I will dance with you. But you must promise me something first.”

A part of his forehead rose. She guessed he was raising an eyebrow at her request.

“And that would be?”

Her blue eyes hardened.

“You must promise not to tell Prince Adrien about my feelings for him. Swear to me you won’t!”

Chat looked baffled at her demand.

“But why-?”

“Because!” she hissed, pointing at him for emphasis. “He’ll reject me and then everyone will find out and then I’ll become the laughing stock of this kingdom for thinking I ever had a chance with him and then I’ll never be able to leave my house again! So do not tell him, understand?”

Chat, to her surprise and indignation, had the audacity to chuckle.

“I don’t know why you think he’ll reject you, you are a lovely woman.”

When she only blinked at his enunciation of the words, oblivious as to what he was getting at, he closed his eyes and sighed for a brief moment.

“Regardless,” he continued after he opened his eyes, flashing her a grin. “I won’t tell him. Cat’s honor.”

He placed his right hand over his heart as he made the vow, at the same time he raised his left in the air.

While she was skeptical of the sly expression he wore, he did promise not to tell Prince Adrien. She mentally scoffed, figuring he only had that look because he was only going to tease her throughout the night for her feelings.

“Very well, chaton. I’ll dance with you.”

His eyes shined with satisfaction, looking very much like the cat that got the cream.

The next day, after the hype from the ball had long ago worn off, Lady Marinette was pleasantly surprised to receive a letter addressed solely to her. She figured it to be from Alya, no doubt in order to berate her for leaving her to dance with a stranger.

The thought made her giggle before she accepted the note from the servant.

Only for the amusement to immediately die down once she observed just where the letter came from. With wide eyes and a new, nervous rhythm of her heart, she broke the wax seal and flipped the paper open.

Dear Lady Marinette,

I hope you are having a wonderful morning. I apologize for not being able to attend the ball your family hosted last night, for I was caught up with other duties. I hope you are able to find it in your kind heart to forgive me.

If you were not at all busy today, I was wondering if you would perhaps consider spending the afternoon with me at the palace. Besides having lunch and strolling around the grounds together, there is something I would like to ask of you.

This request is for you, and you alone, My Lady. Of course, you are free to decline, either the request or the visit, or even both if you so wish. Although, I will be honest with you, in that I very much hope you decide to come.

If you do wish to visit, please send word soon after you have made your decision. If not, please kindly disregard this note and I shall never bring up the subject again.

Sincerely Yours,

Adrien, Crown Prince of France

“Marinette?” Sabine asked whilst entering the dining room. Her head tilted in confusion upon seeing her daughter’s flustered state. “Are you alright? Who is that letter from?”

But her daughter couldn’t answer, for she promptly swooned and fell right out of her chair.


Don’t worry, she was fine and able to go to the palace xD

VOGUE HOMBRE JARED LETO INTERVIEW  TRANSLATION

Pictures taken from: @mars-avenue (found on twitter by @purplejellybean)

Translation by @dreaminginmars

          The actor, musician, director and producer, Oscar winner, and frontman/singer of the band Thirty Seconds to Mars is very clear in what he wants and what he doesn’t want. He has demonstrated this amongst his multifaceted career where he has made possible all that he has proposed, now that the word ‘impossible’ has never, and probably will never, exist for him. This is the second time I interview him. Our first encounter took place in London for the launch of the fragrance Gucci Guilty Absolute last year. This new interview takes place in his house in Los Angeles, in which Jared is found in absolute privacy. It’s a sunny morning full of expectations because he will star on the cover of Vogue Hombre, photographed by the lens of his inseparable and loyal friend, the celebrity photographer Terry Richardson. In an instance, Jared appears in one of the multiple rooms of his house wearing only a robe. It’s impossible not to be captivated by his gaze and the attractive color of his eyes, that to a certain point seem to be enchanting. In Hollywood, Leto is considered one of the biggest stars since he has the ability to be an actor with a chameleon complex, how he has demonstrated it in multiple films by grand directors such as Darren Aronofsky, Jean-Marc Valeé, and David Ayer. Jared says hello to us with a smile and he starts to take a look at the diverse wardrobe prepared for him through the works of Alessandro Michele, creative director of Gucci, who in diverse occasions has become known for revolving his aesthetics around irreverence and retro chic which sets apart the era for the Italian firm. Leto, in his part, has not been the only one captivated by Michele’s designs, but also by the entire world of this individual talent, now that there is no one better than him to interpret the right Gucci spirit needed for this cover shoot.

          The photo session started with a group by the name of Original Sin of INXS, who set out an schedule that allowed Jared to project energy and dynamics in every take. The pairing between Leto and Richardson is a fusion that happens in an inexplicable manner that only they can decipher and on top of that, these “wild men” (Garçon sauvage) add their favorite melodies to accompany the shoot. The clicking of the shutter stops and Jared appears minutes afterwards on the set, dazzling all of those in the studio with him. He has on a three piece tuxedo accompanied by socks and slippers and they confirm that only people like him like to mix styles with the end result of the look being less lavish. At the end, Jared goes to one of the adjacent rooms, where he was waiting for me, seated and surrounded by jewels that capture his impulse and essence. I congratulated him for how he did in the photoshoot and he casually comments that just this morning, right before we met with each other, he had an accident while rock climbing and that caused a lesion in his back. The sport is one of his greatest passions. “Go scale [a mountain], spend some time surrounded by nature because it soothes the soul and it makes you feel stronger in all ways: mentally, emotionally, and physically,” [he] asserts. After seeing him in the [photo] session, I would have never imagined what happened prior to that,  what testifies to his professionalism is that in no moment during the shoot did he mention he suffered through an accident. That attitude demonstrates more about his character than words can ever say and what I can confirm is that he is a man dedicated to his work and he is respectful to all those that surround him. I was curious as to what his favorite look was this session, and he replied: “The tuxedo, without a doubt.” It’s clear that it was the most captivating attire he wore in the pictures. “Other details that fascinated me was how Terry decided to use a grey background, and that tone resulted in the smooth mixing of all the colors.” 

          As if we had called for him, Terry Richardson came into the room in that moment and joined the conversation. All three of us found ourselves together and Jared joked about how I was lucky to be accompanied by two great talents in only one interview. We continued our conversation and Leto pointed out that each picture is special when you look at it from Richardson’s point of view. “I brought out people’s souls, without hiding their true selves, its all about the artist without manipulation, simply their energy shining through,” [he] expresses. Not taking life so seriously and without prejudice is his philosophy and they confirm that when they’re both together they share their experiences in a very natural way. “Terry and I spoke a few times before the session and we discussed ideas of what we wanted to project in this cover, it was a fusion of timeless elegance,” [he] reveals. “Without a doubt its one of the best shoots in which I have participated in. Every look demonstrates a part of my personality and it was really liberating to express myself one hundred percent,” [he] adds. Terry says goodbye and Jared and I start closing in little by little on the things that are most important to him and those that he doesn’t approve of. “I hate cruelty and when someone tries to degrade other people’s work,” [he] exclaims. Something that is clear when you speak to him face to face. “Being humble is part of my day to day since life has given me many lessons in different forms and stages that have led me to where I am today,” [he] states. One of the things that he was the most emotional to talk about was his new album and the tour he has prepared with Thirty Seconds to Mars, in which he has worked on for two years. “Mexico City is a key point for me, like Guadalajara and Monterrey,” [he] mentions. Destinations in Latin America are big protagonists in this comeback to performing on stage. The Mexican public transmits their energy and strength for life,” [he] assures. At the end of the interview, I am convinced that for Jared the big things are actually simplified to freeing your mind and being open to all possibilities.

Not Like the Movies (Jughead x Reader)

“My first request ever! Would you write a JugheadxReader where the reader worked at the drive-in with him and they got really close, she knew about his family and living situation, she falls in love with him and when she’s gonna tell him she sees him with Betty at Pop’s? If so, thank you very much, you are awesome and I love your writing!” –Anonymous

Imagine: You met Jughead Jones while working a summer job at the drive-in. He becomes enamored with your love of the movies, and you become enamored with him. When you find out about Betty Cooper, you are heartbroken.


It all started with a summer job.

Your grandfather had special ties with the mayor, and just gushed over how you would be the perfect fit for the Twilight Drive-In summer team. You traded in your summer arsenal of journals and tire swings for popcorn and Red Vines, becoming the sweet face who served the snacks during every showing. Customer service was always a drag and serving theater food made you feel sticky in a way you’ve never felt before, but it made you feel less lonely. It kept you busy.

And you had to admit, you loved the movies.

You were serving during a showing of Casablanca when you saw him.

Keep reading

Fake Stars (Klance fluff)

I wrote this cute little story a few days ago. It’s basically Lance and Keith bonding over family and it has some langst in it too. Enjoy!


Ocean eyes met the bright illusion of stars in the open space of the vacant bridge in the Castle of Lions. 

Lance wasn’t usually one for deep thoughts and life evaluations, but he simply couldn’t shake the simple question he had been asked by an inquisitive Pidge earlier in the day.

He had been dejectedly complaining about missing out on Earthly parties and other events that made home what it was, when the green paladin objected to his longing whines and caused his eyes to turn a different shade.

“What was so good about Earth anyways?”, she had asked. Lance knew Pidge hadn’t intended the plain question to be complex, or have any other effect on him other than getting him to cease his protesting. Despite that, he couldn’t help but allow the thought to linger in the back of his mind throughout the day’s meetings and practices.

Constantly Lance had yearned for his home of endless seas and crisp air, but whenever he claimed he desired the comfort of his planet of blue sky’s he utterly disregarded the stormy aspects of it.

Even though it had been his dream to be an astro-explorer, the Garrison destroyed him, in both physical and emotional ways. From the first five minutes of initiation Lance was treated like a weed in a garden of brightly colored roses.

 
Not good enough.
Not serious enough.
Not smart enough.


Both Lance and his parents had exhausted themselves for years, trying to salvage enough money for him to be able to afford to attend a prestigious school such as the Garrison. The day his acceptance letter arrived in his mailbox was known as the day Lance chipped a tooth from stubbornly presenting his incessant grin to the world.

It wasn’t that Lance hadn’t anticipated the all-around serious attitude of the Garrison, he was knowledgeable enough to understand the basic actuality that the space exploration program would not tolerate slacking off. However, what he hadn’t expected was the amount of pressure that every member of the Garrison would force onto his, at the time, naive shoulders.

Week after week after week, Lance would swallow his pride and face the fact that he lingered at the bottom of his class. No matter how many sleepless nights he had poured into his work, no advancements has been made; he was nothing more than a disappointment to himself, and to so many others.

What made his situation even worse was the fact that he had absolutely no friends before he came to know Hunk. Every student Lance encountered was a robot, hardwired for success and discovery. His class-clown routine didn’t impress anybody, and he wasn’t oblivious to the harsh side comments about how he would only last a week before the stress broke him.

Those comments haunted his mind and had driven him to throw every ounce of energy he had into making his dreams a reality. Sadly, the only reality he faced was the fact that the snide claims about Lance breaking, had inevitably come true.

The blue paladin was pulled from his reminiscing thoughts at the sharp sound of a bay door sliding open. Lance expected Coran or Allura to come strolling through the door, however he was met with a very solemn looking Keith, complete with his usual closed off stance and scrunched eyebrows.

The red paladin didn’t seem to notice him peering at him from the floor, though he did notice the display of stars that scattered the room. Lance arched his body and propped himself up on one elbow as his friend carried himself across the diameter of the room.

“Looking for somethin’?”, Lance asked, a carefree tone laced his words despite the somber thoughts that continued to subconsciously swirl around in his head.

Keith, who was circling himself as he stared at endless stars, pivoted his body and focused his sharp gaze on the blue paladin, a crease forming in his forehead. “What are you doing here?” His voice had a slight edge to it that brought Lance’s curiosity to life.

He scrunched his stomach muscles together in an attempt to sit all the way up. He locked eyes with Keith and arched a brow. “Can’t a guy just think for a while?” He cocked his head to the side, deepening his stare. “What about you, Hot Head? You trying to get away from that brooding cloud that follows you everywhere?”

The brief and mild expression Keith wore faded into annoyance the tick Lance started talking. He broke their eye contact and flickered his eyes to the floor. “Mind your own business.”

Lance frowned, which was something he didn’t do very often. Keith seemed…far away. He wasn’t snapping back like he usually would, and that fact threw Lance’s motives off. “Dude,” he called to his distant friend with a slight smile, and gestured for him to come closer by a tapping his right hand on the floor beside him.

Hesitantly, Keith crossed the bridge and lowered himself to the floor five feet away from Lance. His chin was tilted to the ceiling of the bridge and the stars that rotated the room at a still and comfortable pace. He sighed, “So, what are you thinking about?”

Lance, bittered by the space between him and his friend, scooted over until he and Keith were a mere one foot apart. He lied down and pressed his back to the floor, then grabbed the back of Keith’s crop jacket and pulled him down alongside him which induced a grunt from the distraught red paladin.

“Earth. My family…I miss them,” Lance said, admittedly. “To be honest, I hated my life at the Garrison. I wasn’t anything there, everyone was always better than me. You were always better than me. But even though I couldn’t amount to anything, I still had my mom and dad, and my siblings. I had home.” He paused, closing his eyes before quietly adding, “I don’t have that anymore.”

Keith scoffed beside Lance, which caused him to tilt his head see his expression. Amusement was splattered on his pale face, a small crease playing at the corner of his mouth. Keith spoke, “Don’t be an idiot. You still have a home, and don’t even think of saying you’ll never return to Earth because you know that isn’t true.” A melancholy sigh escaped from his lips, and his dark eyes grew to be half-lidded. “I never had a home, I was thrown away from my orphanage, and from my foster homes. Then, I was thrown out of the Garrison. The closest thing I have to family is Shiro and he’s…” His voice trailed off.

Lance knew how much Keith had been hurting since Shiro’s disappearance. The boy hadn’t spoken to anyone for days after he went missing. Shiro was everyone’s rock, and his absence brought nothing but devastation that knocked each team member off the rails in their own way.

“I don’t have anyone,” Keith finished, though he sounded distracted.

A pause erupted between the two of them. Lance wasn’t one for sentiment, and he had no idea what to say to someone who seemed so utterly lost.

“Well,” the blue paladin started with a slight shrug. “Let’s make our own family then, right here in space.” Lance didn’t expect his words to have any effect on Keith, and he was surprised to find his friend’s face turning a foreign, sickly color. It took a good minute before Lance came to the realization that Keith was flustered. His giggling response to the situation was immediate. Not once had he ever seen the dark and deadly red paladin turn into the rosy mess that he was now. Lance grabbed Keith’s forearm as an attempt to help calm him down, and their eyes met each other as a result.

“Are you blushing?”, Lance asked with a sly grin.

Keith’s reddish skin tone deepened as a scowl spread across his features. “I don’t blush.”

Lance chuckled once more. “Okay, tough man.”

Silence fell upon the foily pair for a second time. Serenity took over Lance’s mind. Maybe Keith wasn’t such a bad companion after all.

“Um, by the way,” the red paladin said after basking in the quiet for a few minutes. “That idea doesn’t sound so bad…you know, the family one.” His voice was strained and definitely conflicted, but everything he wanted to get across successfully found its way into his friend’s brain.

Lance’s hand lingered on Keith’s forearm gently, and suddenly he didn’t feel homesick anymore. The boys’ gaze drifted back up to the constellations that hung above them. Lance knew someone would come worriedly looking for them, but that knowledge didn’t stop him from desperately wishing that this infinite moment under millions of fake stars could stretch out into eons.

Can I Have This Dance? | Jughead Jones

Originally posted by sssssssim


Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: The school dance is coming up but you’ve given up hope in getting a date.

Warnings: none!

Word Count: 2014. It’s long, I’m sorry.

A/N: This is based off a prompt and… I don’t know how I feel about it? It’s cute, though so I’m posting it. Also, the image of Jug climbing up to someone’s window is cute so I’m sorry. I HAD TO.


“Ugh, I hate these things,” you groaned, ripping down one of the posters for the school dance that was coming up next week. Truth be told, you didn’t actually hate them - you just hated not having anyone to go with. You had your friends but at the same time you’d want just for once to go with a date. Someone that genuinely liked and cared about you you. Was that so hard to ask for? For a few years you had hope that someone might ask you but over the last couple of dances you’d just given up. It hadn’t happened so it probably wasn’t going to.

“Another night at Pops for us then?” Your friend Jughead asked, pulling open his locker and glancing at you as you screwed the piece of paper up and tossed it to the floor without a care in the world. “Whoa, littering now? What a rebel.”

You shot him a glare, opening up your own locker to pull out a few books. “Shut it, Jones. Pop’s sounds good, though. Burgers on you, milkshakes on me?”

“Unless you want to be the kind best friend that I know you are and pay for everything?” He casually threw his arm around your shoulder as you walked down the hallway to your class.

“You wish, pal.”

Keep reading

One word prompt fic 

AN: If you follow me on twitter (smoakbettsqueen) you’ll know I’ve been in a writing rut lately unable to write anything, I asked some awesome friends @callistawolf and @latinasmoak for some prompts and thus begins this little mini series of fics all from their prompts that take place post 523.

Coffee.

“Mr. Mayor, your two o'clock is here.” Marlene’s voice echoes across Oliver’s large office, but before he can query her on what two o'clock the intercom goes dead.

He frowns in confusion his hand moving to his daily planner, his hardcopy daily planner. His forehead wrinkles in confusion as he flips through the well worn pages, trying to find out who he’s supposed to be meeting with. He really hopes it’s not the Hub City mayor, he’s almost certain they are meeting on Friday at two, the large stack of regulations and agreements that he’s suppose to go through before that meeting -that he’s already rescheduled twice- is currently staring back at him. The mayor of Hub City is  never going to want to meet with him again if he’s not even prepared for this meeting.

“Why did I buy you that fancy state of the art tablet if you’re just going to be a caveman and use that planner?”

A familiar teasing voice calls out, halting all of Oliver’s thoughts, much like she’s been doing for the past 6 weeks, or 6 years if Oliver is being honest with himself.

He looks up and can’t help but smile as Felicity glides into the office the little floral romper she’s wearing rustling as she walks. She’s holding a tray with two large cups of coffee in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other.

The cuffed sleeve of her romper has slipped off and Oliver can see the tan curve of her shoulder. He’s already tempted to press his lips to against the soft curves and pull down the V of Felicity’s flora romper and explore the rest of her tanned skin, all too familiar of just how far that tan really goes, or doesn’t go as the case may be.

“Your two o’clock at your service, Mr. Mayor.” Felicity says cheekily as she does a slight curtsy with her gifts despite the fact that she’s in a romper and not a dress.

She takes one look at Oliver’s expression though and backs away from him when he takes a step towards her. “No. No. No. Keep those thoughts in your head mister.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Oliver protests his smile widening when Felicity holds the hot coffee and what he assumes are chocolate croissants -his absolute favourite-  like a shield in front of her. 

“No, but that face and that smile. I know that smile.” Felicity accuses, “you’ve got dirty on your mind. That is not the kind of services I am bringing. We will not have a repeat of what happened last week.”

“Felicity.”

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I need to share what I found in my attic last night

By reddit user A10A10A10

I’m an old man living alone in an old house.  My wife and I bought it 10 years ago, just before she passed.  I don’t know how old it is.  If I had to guess, I’d say at least 150 years.  It’s your typical old house in back country southern United States, surrounded by forest and far from the closest neighbor.

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Daddy’s Home (M)

Genre: Smut

Word count: 6k

Originally posted by jungkookpresent


Grey clouds glided across the sky as you curled up in the chair next to the open. The cool breeze caressed your cheek as warm tears ran down them silently. You sighed frustrated and rubbed at them, hating that you were so lonely. Blinking you watched the sky blankly, wondering if your boyfriend was eating properly while out on tour. He had the worst habit of just eating junk while he was out.

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Babydoll

Summary: Annabelle Shaw (reader) trains at the Avengers compound. While remembering her troubled past, she injures herself and recieves help from the last person she expected.

Word Count: 2,246

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! So this is my first story on here, so bear with me! I am open to requests, so if anyone ever wants to request fics, feel free to message me! Thanks for reading!

Sunlight seeps through the curtains, filling the dark room with golden hues. My eyes open slowly, a low groan emanating from my throat as I roll over in the plush bed. I throw the sheets over my head, exhaling deeply as I settle back in contently.

“Good morning, Miss Shaw,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. croons. “It is six a.m. and Captain Rogers is awaiting your training session in the sparring room.”

“Ugh,” I drawl. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., tell Steve I’m not training today because I’m exhausted from the mission last night,” I mumble sleepily. “Goddamn old men and their early mornings.”

“As you wish.”

“Oh, and F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Yes, Miss?”

I smile and say, “Close the curtains and don’t wake me up unless it’s an emergency.”

“Of course, Miss Shaw.”

Just as my eyes flutter shut, a hand bangs on the door in quick succession. “Annabelle! Rise and shine!” Steve yells.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., keep him out.”

“Yes, Miss Shaw.”

I turn over and sigh happily, knowing F.R.I.D.A.Y. would never go against my wishes. Steve continues to pound against the door, yelling about our training session, but I stay completely silent. I hear the AI say something to Steve, probably telling him I’ve restricted all contact with me to emergencies only. The incessant knocking stops and I’m finally at peace.

“Miss Shaw,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. says, confused, “I’m afraid Captain Rogers is overriding my security protocol. He will have access to you in approximately twenty seconds.”

With that, my eyes fly open and I begin to panic. “Shit,” I chant. Rushing around the room, I shuck off my pajamas and throw on a sports bra, tank top and capri spandex bottoms, knowing Steve will drag me out in whatever I’m in, regardless of how I look. Just as I’m throwing my hair into a high ponytail, the door whisks open and Steve barges in, a creased brow and shit-eating grin on his face.

“Annabelle, I told you what would happen if you did this again,” he boomed, advancing quickly.

My heart leaps to my throat. “Steve, I’m so tired from last night, please don’t do th-”

I’m cut off as the super-soldier tosses me over his shoulder, laughing gleefully as I yelp in surprise. “Too little too late, Shaw.”

His grip is completely constricting, forcing my hand. I plant a hard slap on his right butt cheek, which surprises him, causing him to squeal “shit!” and his hands to slightly falter. I take the opportunity to slip away and sprint down the hallway of the Avenger’s compound, heart pounding. He pursues me with heavy footfalls that resonate throughout the otherwise silent building, shouting empty threats at me while laughing.

I spin around and throw up the middle finger, chortling, only to slam into a solid, warm surface.

I topple over and slam into the floor, taking the body with me. We groan in unison and a flash of silver catches my eye. I stiffen and shoot up in panic. “Sorry, I didn’t see you th-”

He cuts you off with a growl, standing up slowly. “Watch where you’re going next time.” Bucky stalks away quietly, seething.

I turn to Steve and he laughs nervously, leading me to the sparring room.

After a long day of training, I fall onto my bed, completely wore down. Steve, ever so merciless and in excellent shape, always expected me to keep up with him when we trained together, which seemed like a stretch. When we sparred, I could knock him down and keep him down easily, but when it came to physical endurance and strength training, it seemed like the super-soldier enjoyed pushing me past my breaking point every day. Every session introduced a new form of torture that reigned hell on my body, and every night prolonged my misery with every single movement.

We frequently came across the others training for missions, but had never once seen Bucky in the training rooms. I didn’t know if that was because he didn’t need training, or if he just didn’t care enough to make an effort, but it annoyed the hell out of me every day because of how effortless he made missions seem. There I always was, busting my ass, and he would simply throw people into walls with his metal arm with what seemed like little to no effort. It infuriated me.

There is a mission tonight that Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Wanda had to go on, leaving me, Bucky, and Tony at the compound. After the falling out of the Avengers about a year and a half ago, the Sokovia Accords had been abolished, leaving the group to have free reign with the supervision of the World Security Council. Amnesty was granted to Steve, Sam, Clint, Wanda, and Scott, so they returned to the States. Tony, having realized what a dick he had been, formally apologized to everyone for his behavior and overall jackassery during their “civil war.” Since then, everything has been running smoothly, with most of the team back at the compound. Clint and Scott returned to their families, T’Challa remained in Wakanda to serve his duty as both king and Black Panther warrior, Banner’s been MIA since the battle for Sokovia, and Tony spends most of his time in New York and Queens to keep an eye on the new kid, Peter, and help Rhodey adjust to life. I’d never met the Spider-Man himself, but from what Sam and Steve’s told me, he seems like an overzealous teenager who’s eager to please, like I was.

I head to the gym, F.R.I.D.A.Y. playing my workout playlist through the PA system. I twirl a knife in my hand, slightly dancing to the rhythm while walking down the corridor. Once I reach the gym, I ditch my knife on a table in exchange for tape and head for a punching bag, carefully wrapping my knuckles as I go. Clenching my fist, I roll my neck to loosen up before striking the sand-filled bag. I smile, savoring the sweet sting from the punch, and throw three more in quick succession. After I’m warmed up, I begin to throw punches and kicks like Steve taught me, exerting all of the strength I could muster.

Startling awake, I gasp for breath, fighting against the restraints. The metal table is cold beneath me, save for the small pools of blood that seeped through the fabric of my shirt. I glance down at my exposed midriff, crying out at the pain of the gunshot wounds. I scream in agony, concentrating on the lodged bullets, and pull the fragments out. This is what they want. They want to see you break, to unleash your power, and you finally did. As soon as the bullets land on the floor, a team of doctors rush in, grinning like they’d won the lottery. I scream, light bulbs shattering above and the table shaking with every breath I take.

“Yes,” they say, one amorphous, sinister voice. “Now we can begin.”

I lose track of how long I spend at the bag, so when I see blood seeping through the white tape encasing my tender knuckles, I slow to a stop. My tank top is completely soaked through, so I discard it on the floor, leaving me in my sports bra and yoga capris. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., stop the music please.” I carefully unwrap my hands, wincing at the agonizing burn of split knuckles. I walk to the table and grab a knife to sever the cage of white engulfing my scarlet fingers. Once the tape is gone and my knuckles can bleed freely, I sit against a wall, clutching my head in my hands, struggling to control the erratic heaves of my chest.

Breathe.

A noise from the door startles me out of my stupor and my guard is up immediately. Without looking, I stand and hurl the knife to the frame of the door, the glinting metal striking its mark inches from the intruder’s head.

“Shit,” Bucky breathes. “It’s just me.”

Exhaling shakily, I shake my head and scoff. “What, need to train?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, stepping into the room. He glances around curiously, as if experiencing it for the first time. I scoff again, concluding that this actually is his first time here. Bucky isn’t one to initiate conversation, and neither am I, so I put him out of my mind as I grab a towel to wipe my hands. Biting my lip to conceal my pain from my metal-armed spectator, I gently dab my knuckles, blood soaking into the towel quickly. The whimper I mistakenly let out results in Bucky coming over to me in a flash, slowly circling his fingers, flesh and metal, around my wrists. I avoid his eyes shamefully, frowning. What is he doing?

“Come with me,” he says. He grazes his metal fingers up my arm and down my back in one swift motion, goosebumps raising in their wake. My breathing falters for a second, barely a hitch, but he notices. He hides his grin by pretending to scratch his scruff-covered jaw. I try not to stare when Bucky runs his fingers through his hair, holding back his smile. He splays his cool fingers on the small of my back, gently leading me out of the gym.

The only thing I can concentrate on is his hand on my skin. The smooth and cool surface of the metal tingles on the sweaty, exposed surface. While he’s touching me, my body is suddenly hyperaware of every move he makes, so I can feel when he adjusts his arm slightly to curl his fingers around my waist nonchalantly. I try not to gasp when he tugs me into his room and slams the door behind him.

“Bucky, what-”

He shakes his head and smiles softly. “I just want to help clean you up,” he says quietly. My heart practically slams out of my chest as he takes in my shocked expression and grins boyishly, dimples forming in his cheeks. “C’mon B.”

“B?” I question. He takes me to his en-suite and lifts me onto the vanity, which makes me squeak in surprise. Who the hell is this guy?

He smiles, and again I’m transported to another place. I’ve never seen him smile so often and so freely. It’s confusing. “Just thought I’d try it out. Everyone calls you a cute nickname, and I thought I would try out B.”

Bucky digs around a drawer, fishing out antibacterial cream, gauze, and medical tape. His hair falls into his face as he washes my knuckles with warm water and soap tenderly. I study him: his sharp, strong jawline; his strong cheekbones; his long lashes lightly dusting his cheeks when he blinks; the soft curve of his plump lips and how he bites the lower one in concentration; his broad shoulders and bulging biceps straining against his plain black shirt; his everything.

“Why B? What does it stand for? Bells?”

He pauses, holding my cut hands. Blush dusts his cheeks and he looks up at me with the same heart-stopping, boyish grin he gave me earlier. “No.”

I crease my eyebrows. “What then?”

“Babydoll.”

My heart hammers in my chest. What? He places my hands in my lap, stepping between my parted legs. “Bucky, what-”

“Shh, just let me, let me try something.” He leans in closer, firmly gripping my hips, pulling me closer to him. I squeak in surprise, my whole body burning with an emotion I can’t decipher. We are so close, closer than I’ve been with anyone in a while. I feel like I can’t breathe, but in the best possible way, when he leans in, brushing his lips against mine. I gasp and he sucks in a breath through his nose. Everything is tingling and nothing feels real, but the warm pressure of his hands on my hips reminds me that this is reality. Bucky pulls me impossibly closer, fully pressing his lips against mine. I sigh, my heart pounding with excitement, and bring him closer to me by holding his face in my shaking hands. I can feel the pulse on his neck, whimpering when it’s as fast and hard as mine. He groans and deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue into my mouth, much to my surprise. He feels and tastes amazing, like the peppermint gum he always chews. His body is solid and warm between my parted thighs, and my mind is buzzing.

Time ceases to exist when his lips are on mine, and everything feels like a dream. After what feels like a blissful eternity yet only a second, I reluctantly break the connection, breathing hard and fast like the beautiful man in front of me. He lays his forehead on mine, struggling to catch his breath. I laugh nervously and lace our fingers together, leaning against the wall behind me.

“What was that?” I ask breathlessly. He grins.

“Can’t stop thinking about those lips,” he tells me. I blush scarlet, which makes him laugh. He finishes bandaging my hands and I feel helpless against the assault of light kisses he gives each knuckle once it’s cleaned and wrapped.

Once he’s finished, he pulls me off the counter and leads me back to the gym. I stare at him, still giddy, and ask, “What are we doing?”

He grabs a handful of knives off of the table and turns to you, grinning. “I want you to teach me how to throw knives.”

I blanch. “Are you kidding me? You don’t know how to throw a knife?”

He shrugs. “I do. I just want you to teach me how you throw knives. I see you playing with one all the time.”

My eyes widen in shock and yet again, I blush. “You watch me?”

His metal arm glints in the sun as he scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “Um, yeah. For a while now.”

I can’t hide the smile that lights up my face; much to my displeasure, I also can’t hide the girly giggle that escapes. “What else do you think about?”

He drops the knives and rushes to me, grabbing me by the thighs and hoisting me up. I squeal, which seems to be a recurring, annoying sound I make, and wrap my arms around his neck. He traces my lips with a finger, looks up at me with a soft smile and bright eyes before saying, “Trust me, babydoll, this is only the beginning.”

You Are Mine (M)

BTS; Jungkook

Genre: Smut | Some angst | College AU

Word count: 8,269

WARNINGS: Rough smut, light bondage, and breath play

A/N: @namsjxms This is special for you. Please don’t fly up here and strangle me. I’m going to shower in holy water after writing this 8k of rough JK smut. I hope you all like it! and sorry it was late….. I suck.

Originally posted by jungxook


You stared at his noticeably muscular back in class every single day for the last two weeks, or rather it stared at you in a way. Jeon Jungkook was the most popular guy on campus, but you refused to fall into him like every other girl. They fawned over him like a puppy abandoned on the street. It didn’t matter if you paid attention to him or not, because he had whatever girl he chose for the night.

You couldn’t help, but think about his muscular arms though, wrapping you in their embrace.

You shook the thoughts from your head and scoffed at the thought. That boy is nothing but trouble and you would make sure to steer clear of that at tonight’s party to celebrate the end of a semester and the beginning of summer break.

“If you stop staring, I’ll give you what you want.” Your thoughts are broken from you once more as you looked up and see his deep brown eyes staring back into yours. It brought you back to that day that he sat next to you a week and a half ago.


“What do you want perv boy? Why are you sitting so close to me? There are plenty of seats over there,” you pointed in the direction of four empty seats beside him.

“I wanted to sit next to the prettiest girl in class ya know?” Such sly words, you knew he was up to something, but before you could shoot something back at him the teacher started the lecture of the day.

You mind wandered from the lesson, did he really think you were attractive or were those just words to lure you into his trap? Surely they were empty. There’s no way a guy like that would ever go after you, but what if he was? Maybe he was bet by someone. You were definitely not going to let him get in your head, but hadn’t you already? You turned back to your notebook and started to take notes on the lecture to get your mind off of him.

Suddenly, you jumped at the feeling of something warm on your thigh, moving quickly upward under your skirt before you could muster up a scream. Your body froze as your eyes looked over to see Jungkook staring down at his notebook writing his notes and you trailed your eyes down his other arm that was connected to the hand resting at the hem of your panties now. You saw him slightly glance up at you and a small smirk tugged at his lips.

“Jungkook! What the hell are you doing?” your screams were hushed in order not to draw attention, but enough so he could hear the intensity in your voice. Your hand meekly tried to brush away his hand from your thigh, but his grip tightened. It was so firm that it was sure to bruise.

“I’m just doing my lesson quietly Y/N. You should do the same,” his words burned into your ears as his fingers came in contact with your core over your soaking panties. Why were you so wet for this fuckboy? His middle finger jolted you from your thoughts as it pressed hard over your clothed clit, rubbing slow circles over it. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling as your lips parted slightly and let out a small sigh.

“I’m so glad you decided to sit in the back today Y/N. I’ve been wanting to do this all week,” his words came out quietly against your ear. “But you need to stay quiet like a good girl, or I’ll have to punish you for letting all these people hear your beautiful moans.”

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