and sorry for the late greeting

bad | 07

he was the cliché bad boy. he was the guy you couldn’t stand. he was the handsome, hot kid who made girls go weak in the knees. he was a brat. you had never liked him one bit, but you had also never gotten involved with anything concerning him. until one day, when you were in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Originally posted by mvssmedia

TITLE: bad | 07

MEMBER: jeon jungkook x reader (ft. kim taehyung)

GENRE: smut, romance, fluff

WORDS: 10 243

WARNINGS: mature & sexual content, profanity, dirty talk & other filth

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07coming soon

A/N: please beat my ass for taking over a fucking month with this. hopefully it was worth the wait tho ;). writing this killed me.

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4

I went on the CN app today (April 1st) and was greeted with googly eyed thumbnails of Cartoon Network shows. So, you know, I’m just like “oh haha lol that’s cute” but then I went further down the rabbit hole and

They committed to entire, full-length episodes

Replacing all the characters’ (visible) eyes with googly ones

Humans Are Weird

It is well established among all sentient species that Humans are Weird. Exceptional Humans, however, make the regular humans seem almost tame in comparison.
Yatrov was to show the newest crew member- another Human- “the ropes”, as Human Jenny phrased it.
Upon arriving, however, the newest Human barely spared xir even a glance, which was odd, seeing how Humans prize interaction above all else. Shrugging it off, xe delicately held out a clawed hand to engage in the Human positive-meeting greeting, a “hand-shake” it was aptly named. “I am known as Yatrov, in Human Common tongue. I am sorry to say that I was unable to read your file report, and am thus left without your name. What is it you wish to be called?” Yatrov was genuinely sorry; the ship was in dire need of repairs, and this Human was coming to help.
Instead of taking the proffered hand, the human’s brown eyes stared into xi’s own violet. “I am Giovanni. And you are approximately 7 minutes late. I do not fault you for your tardiness, your job is a busy one, so your apologies are void. I do not need to see the entirety of this ship, I only require the engine room. Take me there and I will begin repairs immediately. Social niceties and other such meaningless things can be done at a later date, if done they must be at all.”
Yatrov felt somewhat slighted; xe’s species did not greet with touch, but it was seen as an insult- a social misdemeanor- to deny the shaking of hands. Attributing it to the Human having been under circumstances that made him “cranky” and to the fact that the Human was excited to work- humans forgot norms when excited, xe had found- Yatrov continued to try to create a pack-bond with this Human, “I have heard many great things about you.”
“Truly?” The Human considered this for a moment, head tilting, “I am merely faster than most, mentally. A marathoner or racer is not spoken of in as high-esteem as those with quick mental facilities are, are they?” The Human was speaking out loud, xe found this practice odd and ignored it. “What exactly have you heard?” The Human tapped their legs with their fingers, adopting a rhythm unknown to xir, and hummed. 
Arrogance or curiosity? “Admittedly, not much has been told. I know that you have several thesis papers, have repaired and improved upon numerous ships, and that you were good enough that our captain was surprised that you even bothered to consider joining our crew.”
“Huh.” And that was that. Giovanni did not speak after that, made no effort to communicate. Giovanni did not try to obtain physical contact. Giovanni remained aloof with even Human crewmates long after he had joined. He also remained fidgety, seemingly unable to keep still, unless it was to engage in a staring contest with the resident cat- to keep the Humans from adopting a weird, deadly creature- or to continue his single-minded work with machinery.
Three weeks after he had joined, the ship was attacked. Vernians boarded the ship, using their many appendages to apprehend multiple members of The Highlight- the ship- at once. No one knew where Giovanni was, and no one would have been surprised if he had left to save his own hide.
Which was precisely why everyone, who were all bound and trying to negotiate with what was essentially pirates, was surprised when Giovanni came around the corner, a knocked out Vernian held under gun point.
Guns pointed at him, Vernians shifted to attack him. “What you need to know: firstly, I have hacked into your language processors. All Vernae will sound like gibberish.” He paused, then grinned ferally. “Try”, he dared.
“Kir-ah?!” They did, and did not seem pleased with the results.
“Back! Restore!” the voices of Vernians screeched, their language translators on the fritz. 
“Secondly,” he paused, “I will shoot your friend if you do not release my own.” When an uproar of shouting started again, he blandly stated, “Blank point will be quite messy, won’t it?” He hummed, as though in thought, though his eyes trailed after every movement the Vernians made.
A smaller one, likely emotionally closer to the Vernian Giovanni was holding captive,  pounced.
ZZZZZT-PA! The Vernian howled, two of its 11 “arms” gone. “My threat is not idle.”
The room quieted, members of the Highlighter slowly being released.
“Thirdly.” His lips pursed, his nose tilted, sneer deadly, “Run, and pray that I never see you again!” He shot a wall, and they scattered, leaving the crew of The Highlighter mostly unscathed.
It was hours later, after the chaos was settled and the ship fixed up again, that Yatrov approached Giovanni.
“Why did you save us?”
Giovanni scrunched his thick eyebrows together, “Why ever would I not?”
“You make no attempt to communicate with us.” Yatrov insisted, trying to discover the reason Giovanni would do something without some sort of gain.
“Oh, that.” He dismissively waved his hand, his face again lax and bored. “I do not see the point in wasting words. I enjoy the presence of the crew, and- while I see no point in engaging in it- their idle chatter is amusing to listen to.” He raised an eyebrow, “Why do you ask?”
“The crew operated under the belief that you disliked us.” Yatrov felt a small bit of shame; clearly, Yatrov had been wrong to assume that all Humans were so similar.
“I-” He looked hurt, eyes filling with water- tears, they were called, and Yatrov knew that this was not a good sign. His lips twitched, his words near whispered, “Did you not consider me a friend? I thought we were.” He had begun nervously threading his fingers, humming lightly.
“I thought you disliked me.” Yatrov’s admission only increased xir’s guilt, and the slight tremors of the Humans smaller body.
“I made you and the others a new computer.” Giovanni’s eyes searched Yatrov’s one, and again found no solace. A computer did not equate to friendship. “I *made* you and the others a new computer.” The emphasis hit Yatrov. Why would one handmake something if the person receiving it did not matter to them.
“I am sorry.” Yatrov paused, xe had seen it in a Human film once, maybe…? “Can we start over?” A small nod eased Yatrov’s mind and reaffirmed xir’s decision. “I am the one known as Yatrov, and I enjoy reading: fiction, typically.” Xe did not hold out his hand, but stared Giovanni right in the eye.
The smirk on Giovanni’s face told xir that the actions- or lack there of- was not missed. “I am known as Giovanni.” He held out his hand, looking smug and slightly proud of remembering this, as their hands clasped, he said, “I enjoy sandwhiches, science, and conversations on how realistic or achievable a work of fiction can be. It will be a pleasure to work with you.”

Humans were odd, but exceptional Humans lived by a very different set of rules. Intelligence changed their perceptions. Yatrov knew, from personal experience, that they were still Human, still fantastic and horrifying, at their core. Yatrov put down the book xe was reading, looking up to watch Giovanni’s animated expressions as he ranted about machinery. Yes, truly, Humans are Weird.


(Please excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes, my hand has been cramping up lately and it is hard to write at the moment. And I should not be writing sci-fi, because it is NOT my forte, but I had a plot-bunny and felt the need to attempt it. This is basically a shortened version of what I wanted to write, skipping over much of what I actually wanted to put down. Feel free to take the general idea and write something better XD )

Taako waiting for Kravitz to show up for their second date and once again Kravitz is running a little late. Angus is keeping Taako company as he waits, having heard about Taako’s boyfriend and eager to meet him.

suddenly a rift opens up next to them. “i am so sorry i’m late, i rushed here straight from work,” a voice says in a cockney accent as a skeleton in a black robe steps out of the rift carrying a scythe and immediately Angus starts screaming. he’s screaming and crying and hiding behind Taako, who just goes “ah fuck” and gestures to a startled and confused Kravitz to maybe change back into his Non-Terrifying Form. Kravitz catches on and quickly changes and leans down to apologize and greet Angus but Angus just runs off.

Taako snorts and is just like “oh kids, yanno,” but in that moment Kravitz makes it his new Mission to get Angus to like him and he starts bringing him gifts and tries really hard to be Dad’s Cool New Boyfriend. it takes him a while after that initial shock but eventually Angus opens up with a bit of coaxing from Taako (who finds the whole thing adorable)

Carousel | 03

Character: Min Yoongi x reader (oc)

Genre/words: Angst, Future Smut/Mature scenes, Arranged Marriage! AU / 10,430 words

Summary: He is the successor of his family’s business empire, and you are the female heir of yours. After the trouble his older brother had created in the past, he now must face certain requirements needed for the sake of the family’s future and to save his rights of inheritance, and you become his only way out. Everything might seem so simple, just the way they are supposed to. But everything isn’t always what it seems, is it?

Playlist | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

a/n: for my curious babies, @ssconce, @the95liner :’)

Cr.


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❝ At the end of the day ❞

Plot: When you and your boyfriend Jimin get into a fight, he hits you and you’re scared of him. 

Pairing: JiminxReader

Words count: 2,3k+

Genre: Angst, fluffy ending 

For anon, I hope you like it! M. ♥

Gif isn’t mine, credits to the owner! ♥

“So do you choose your job? Again? ”

“I don’t choose, you know I’ve to do it.” He hums, bowing his head and you can see guilt in his  eyes, even if he hid them to you.  

You look at him, trying to figure out why you’re once again the second choice. You can’t even more to get mad because you know he won’t never choose you and it’s the thing that hurts the most.

You sigh and get up off the couch, where until a few minutes before you were joking and laughing like two children, turning away from him and from the sense of oppression that that situation is causing.

“Y/N, wait! ” He yells, but you don’t listen to him and not turn around.

“Can I be alone?”

“Nope… We need to talk about this.”

“Why?” You ask, upon entering the kitchen, continuing to avoid his gaze.

“Because we should fi-”

“Fix what? You has already decided that you’ll forsake our anniversary for the job, as all the other times. ” You stop him, twist out and look straight at him. He keeps his head down and you would just for once, one time, he chose you. You bite your bottom lip while you’re holding back from saying more and perhaps more painful. Despite everything you don’t want to hurt him.

“You know if I cou–”

“No, because even if you could you would choose BTS. I figured it out months ago and I accepted it, they’re important and are part of you. But, I mean, what am I to you? ”

“You choose your work often, Y/N”.

His answer has a bitter taste, you can feel the resentment you didn’t know he tried. Still he can’t compare your occasional waivers to his constant “No, today I’ve practice”; “I need to register”; “We’ve got some photoshoot”.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. ” You whispers, lowering your head, turn off and trying to hold back your anger. You don’t want to fight and for that let slip the matter, feeling his arms tighten around your hips. He draws you to him and buries his face against your neck, wondering again sorry.

“Okay, it’s work.. go Jimin, otherwise you’re going to be late.. ”

“I promise to come home soon, I swear.”

You just nod, knowing that he’ll shed ever soon, smiling at him and leaving a little kiss on his temple. Those little moments are sweet and bitter for you, because on the one hand his sweetness makes you melt but you know it’s temporary, like a thunderclap and this leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

“Go!” You yell at him with soft voice, faking a smile, which he interprets as true. He moves and after a few minutes you hear his joyful greeting to the entry, remaining totally alone. The silence of your apartment, you two still don’t live together but he often stays at your place when you’re spending time together, envelops you and makes you feel even more his absence.

“As always.. Y/N get dressed, it’s no use staying here to bask in commiseration. Go shopping, have fun.. You don’t need him. ”

The problem is that you always need him.

                                             ____

The laughter of your friends are echoed in the small “cabine” of the photo’s machine, while you’re keep doing strange poses to every flash that blinds you eyes. You’ve not checked the clock or cell phone once, you didn’t want to ruin your mood but when your friends finally make you aware that it’s nearly 1 a.m., you get out of the cubicle and greeting all with a quick gesture of the hand.

The fresh air of the night is a cure and the thought of your boyfriend not grazed even once your mind. You missed him, every moment, but you got to live with it so as not to spoil yet another evening.

“Oh… Why are the lights on? ” You talkin’ to yourself in front of your door, noticing the lights in the living room.

You come quickly and approaching the room, just to freeze on the threshold when you see your boyfriend sitting on the couch, a bouquet in his hands and a cold dinner on the coffee table.

“Jimin..”

“Hey, hi.”

“What…?”

“You know when I said that I would come home early, I really meant it.” He whispers and his voice is cold, provoking you a chill that runs along your spine and lets on you a strange sensation.

“Jimin.. do you know how many times you said it and you never came home earlier? ”

“So you thought this time would be so? You’ve so little faith in me, Y/N? ”

“It’s not what I’ve say!” You shout, albeit quietly, taking your jacket of and dropped it on the floor along with the bag.

“What’s that?”

“Do you know how many times you’ve made promises that you broke? I was tired of building expectations and see them collapse like a house of cards. ”

“So on our second anniversary you decided to party with your friends?” He asks, getting up from the sofa and throwing the bouquet on the coffee table with an huffy gesture. You also see from his gaze, as his eyes are dark, the hard line of his jaw. Jimin exudes anger and it scares you.

“What was I supposed to do? Stay home? Wait without knowing whether you were coming home or not? ”

“Yes, it was what you had to do.” He replyes and his eyes are on you, they don’t let a moment.

“Excuse me?”

“It was what you had to do. Stay at home, waiting. ”

“Like all the other times, Jimin?” You ask with tired tone, feeling his anger on your skin. Your mood is totally ruined and even this time you would like to discuss, but he seems to want to pick up a fight with you.  

“Do you think I might like? Do you think I’d be happy to know that you were waiting for me and I couldn’t be with you? ”

“Honestly?”

“Yes, honestly.”

“I don’t think you’d be happy, but if you cared more you would have been looking for ways to change things.”

Your voice is a whisper but you get that he heard, you see it in his eyes and you realize it’s time to create some space between you two. You ignore your jacket and your bag on the floor, turn away and head off towards the stairs but an iron grip on your wrist makes you freeze. A slight pain spreads in the part that he’s clutching, but you just ignore that itching and don’t turn around to face him. 

“Do you really think I don’t care about you??”

“I think you can’t put things on a right perspective Jimin. I think you keep thinking about the fact that I’m here. But I might as well not be there next time. ” You grumble, trying to wiggle out your wrist from his grip.

“Tell me while you’re looking at me in the eyes”  

It’s rude the way he appeals to you and how he does you turn, continuing to clutch, even stronger, your wrist.

You look at him in the eyes and you can’t find your Jimin in that gaze. It’s someone you don’t know.

“You’re hurting me.”

“So you’re telling me you’re not going to be here the next time? Is this what you want? What the hell can I do? You’re putting me in front of a choice, Y/N ”.

“No, it’s you. I’m not giving any ultimatum and especially I’m not asking you to choose, because we already know who would you choose. ”

It’s a split second. One minute you were just watching with anger into each others eyes, the next minute you’re sitting on stairs’ top step, your cheek that burns and him looks at you, completely shocked. He never laid a hand on you, even now he did it voluntarily, but still the pain you feel is true, real, so much so that tears begin to slip silently on your face.

You look at him in disbielief, brushing your cheek with the gentle touch of your fingertips while your breath is broken with sobs and tears continue to run on the skin of your cheeks.

“Y/N”. He stutters falling to his knees in front of you, on his face a terrified gaze that think you’re reflecting on your face. “I.. I-I’m sorry.. I didn’t want to… I-I… I just wanted to… Hell, I’m so sorry… I-I’m going to get some ice.” He adds and staggering rises again, rushing into the kitchen and leaving you alone.

You take a deep breath and review the scene in your mind. Trying to unburden the grip on your wrist, you started to jostle him and he caught off guard, he lefts your wrist with a violent gesture, only to give you a slap on your cheek. You saw the sudden change in his eyes, from dark and full of anger to innocent and scared. And that’s what doesn’t make you run, albeit feel fear grasping to each inch of your body. Your gaze alights on your hands and you try to stop their trembling, but it seems almost impossible.

“Here’s the ic–”

Hear his voice makes you jump and you move involuntarily, causing him to freeze instantly. He lays the ice on the small step beside you and walking away a few steps, sitting on the floors so that you can watch. You’re unable to speak or move, fear prevents you from doing anything.

“Y/N.. Please.. Say something.. ”

“T-thanks for the ice.”

“I would never hurt y-you…”

You just nod to his sentence, you know that but at that time you can’t think straight. You take the ice and resting on your cheek, sighing with pleasure for the relief that immediately causes you. Along with your sigh, though, you hear a different sound and lifting your look you realize that he started to cry. He keeps his face hidden in his hands, is folded back on himself and you hear his “I’m sorry”, murmured softly.

Something inside you changes, you feel the fear slipping away while a pain more stronger starts to make you tremble. As much as you don’t like what happened, seeing him in that condition makes you even more hurt.

“Jimin..” You whisper and stand up, by kneeling in front of him and trying to take away his hands so that you can look into his eyes.

“No.. I-I don’t deserve your sweetness Y/N… I hurt, I.. ”

“Yup, you hit me but it was accidentally. I know you would never hurt me. ”

“But I did.. and not just by hitting you. I hurt you for weeks. Yes, I see it in your eyes..”

“W-What?” You ask stammer.

“I see that I’ll always let you down, your smiles are fake and you’ve watery eyes the most of time. I see everything but I can’t do anything.. Because I don’t know how to do, I don’t know how to be scattered by BTS’ Jimin and the other Jimin, the boy madly in love who wants to stay with his girlfriend. ” He murmurs, leaving finally dropping his hands on his intertwined legs. His face is pale, you picture like yours, and immediately you caress his cheeks, erasing the mark of tears.

“Jimin..”

“I have no apologies Y/N, you’re right… You were right to go out with your friends, you did something for yourself and that’s what I love most…that you’re happy. ”

“You make me happy.”

“Yeah, of cour–”

“Stop. Yes, you often call off our dates because of work…but I see your efforts. After two nights in a row in practice for MAMA, two nights with a lack of sleep, you’ve come anyway to know my sister… I see it in your little gestures, your hugs when we sleep, I can tell by the way you look at me. Jimin we knew it would be tough. But no matter what if at the end of the day I can be with you. ”

You lay your forehead against his and feel the softness of his hand on your cheek where he hit. He’s touching so softly that you hardly feel his touch, just smile and touches the tip of his nose with your lips.

“How can I make it up?”

“Mmh …” You mumble, thinking intently.

“Because.. will you forgive me, right?”

“Oh God Jimin, breathe… Let’s do like this, now we sit on the couch, we order something to go and talk all night, as we did at the beginning. ”

“That’s it?” He wonders puzzled, looking at you frightened.

“Jimin, at the end of the day it’s enough for me that you’re with me, remember?”

“I remember …”

“Wel–”

“I love you, Y/N. At the end of the day, in spite of what you may think, I just want you to be with me. ”

I’ll Do It All Again (1/6)

Title: I’ll Do It All Again
Pairing: Steve x Bucky
Word count: 832
Rating: PG
Warnings: none

I don’t even know what to say. It’s another drabble series. And I have screamed my way through writing it, because writing Stucky intimidates the fuck out of me. General inspiration and chapter titles from Fall Out Boy’s “The Kids Aren’t Alright”. This series will have six parts all in all, they’re all written out and I’ll post one part per day. A huge thanks to @ursulaismymiddlename and @mrshopkirk who have kindly listened to me scream and whine and offered support and encouragement.

Tag list can be found under the cut, and if you want to be tagged in future parts, send me an ask. 

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI


I. Fall To Your Knees, Bring The Rapture

1929

Sarah Rogers may be Irish, but she hasn’t been the best catholic of late. Too often, her Sundays have been spent by her son’s side, dabbing a wet cloth against his forehead, his mouth moving as if speaking but no words come out. The women in the congregations would probably say her boy is near death, that he’s talking to the angels and saints coming to claim his soul. They’d arrange their features into expressions of pity and well-meaning concern, and maybe that’s another reason Sarah has not felt too guilty about missing mass.

Steve is not dying. He’s not. It’s a mantra she keeps repeating to herself with every bout of flu, every hitch in the boy’s breath when he overexerts himself until it becomes a learned response whenever Steve looks even the slightest bit tired. They have very little by means of worldly possessions and wealth, but to Sarah Rogers, her son is more precious than any riches that could be thrown their way.

It’s winter, and the cold air and tempestuous weather has Steve bedridden again, coughing and fighting against a fever that night after night refuses to break. Sarah is on her last ounce of energy when a timid knock on their door pulls her from the despair. She’s got an apology ready on her tongue, expecting one of the neighbours to complain about Stevie’s cough being to loud, and she’s not sure why she’s even surprised when it’s her son’s constant companion standing outside, hands clasped in front of him and looking up at her expectantly.

“Hi, mrs. Rogers,” he greets, always so polite and charming, and it tugs at something in Sarah’s heart.

“Bucky, I’m sorry, Steve can’t come out today…” she starts, smoothing back her hair and straightening out her clothes.

“No, mrs. Rogers, I know, I have his homework, and I thought maybe I could keep him company for a while?”

Sarah sighs. The two boys have been inseparable ever since finding each other in the school yard when Steve started first grade. Sometimes it hurts to see just how much of her late husband she can see in her son. He’s got most of her looks, but the temperament and the penchant for getting into trouble… That’s all Joseph.

“Just a little while, Bucky. Your ma won’t be happy if you get sick.”

“Promise! Thank you, mrs. Rogers!”

And with that, Bucky bounds through the tiny apartment, his backpack bouncing against his back. The door to Stevie’s room opens and closes soon after, and for the first time in hours, Sarah feels like she can breathe. Maybe it’s wrong to rely on a child to keep an eye on her son, but she’ll take what she can get. Backing up, she leans against the kitchen counter, quietly counting her breaths, taking stock of her own well-being.  She could do with more sleep, more food, more… everything. But they are doing okay, under the circumstances. And Steve will get better. She repeats it quietly to herself just to be sure before setting about making dinner.

By the time she’s done, the boys are still holed up in Steve’s room, and Sarah’s about ready to send Bucky back home, fearing that the boy might fall ill. Her steps are soft and near-silent when she approaches the door. Even though it’s closed, she can hear Bucky’s animated voice.

“Daddy said they gonna start building next year. Tallest building in the world, can you believe it, Stevie!”

If Steve replies, it’s too weak to carry through the door.

“Maybe when you get better, we can go look at it! Daddy said he’d be working, I’m gonna ask him if we can go up on the beams and look out over the city. Betcha we could see all the way home.”

In that moment, Sarah Rogers has never envied someone as much as she envies Bucky Barnes. Much as she doesn’t want to, she lives in a constant state of “if” when it comes to Steve. “If” does not exist for Bucky, everything is “when”. Sniffing, Sarah knocks on the door, and within five minutes, the Barnes boy has said his goodbye, promising to come back tomorrow with more homework and more stories.

Maybe Sarah Rogers has not been the best catholic as of late, but that night, she falls to her knees by her bed, praying with all of her heart for her son to get better, to live, to survive. She promises her life to the saints in exchange for her son’s health, swears that he’ll grow up good and strong if only God will be merciful and spare him this one time.

Bucky keeps visiting. Three days after her desperate prayer, she hears Steve laugh at something Bucky said, and that night, the fever finally breaks. Sarah Rogers is on her knees again that night, thanking God and his angels and the saints for their mercy.


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Blue Blooded (M)

Originally posted by saintminyoongi


Summary
: You’ve been happily married to Crown Prince Seokjin for months now. Or so it would appear to the public. What only you and the palace staff know your shameful secret: you never consummated your marriage.

Member: Jin

Word Count: 8.6k+

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

A/N: Requested by @forever-young-got7! Because Jin really is royalty, isn’t he?

Ever since that night you’ve keep asking yourself. What did you do wrong? Was it the way you looked? Something you said, something you didn’t say? Did he just… hate you?

If anyone had asked you prior to your marriage to Prince Seokjin, you would have never even entertained the notion of him hating anyone. The man just seemed too perfect, not only in looks, but in disposition as well, never one to lack poise, always composed. The few times you and your family had visited him prior to the wedding, he had been nothing but a gentleman.

And certainly it didn’t seem like he disliked you, in fact it seemed to be the opposite, even if there seemed to be some distance between the two of you but you attributed this to the fact that you had not known each other for very long, and had expected things to gradually change once you two had actually wed.

The warm expression on his face as you walked down the aisle gave you a hopeful outlook on what the rest of your marriage would be like. However, it all came crashing down later that night.

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anonymous asked:

How about the guys' babies saying their first word? Bonus if it's addressing their father! :D

This turned out a lot cuter than anticipated. I am low key dying. 

Noctis

Lucis’s King trudged into his chambers, pulling the double doors shut behind him.

Paperwork.  Mountains and mountains of paperwork. The workload increased day by day. 

Noctis’s exhausted eyes searched through the darkness of his bedroom to find his wife sound asleep curled up in their bed. He huffed out a sigh of disappointment. A nonpolitical conversation the King held was his Queen was becoming a true rarity. Noctis hated it.

What he hated more was being separated from his newborn son, Corrin. He only nearing the age of 10 month and Noctis felt as if he never was allowed enough time with the young prince. It destroyed him. 

As tired as he was, Noctis mustered enough energy to press on with a soft tiptoe toward Corrin’s crib situated only a few feet away from his mother’s side of their double bed. 

The child laid safety in his crib, but laid wide awake. His bright blue eyes remained open as he searched over the chocobo themed mobile that leisurely spun above him.

Noctis peered loving down at his son. 

The instant his father came into view Corrin let out an elated coo. 

“Hey, Cor,” Noctis whispered, a smiling slowly crawling on his face. “How are you doing? Why are you awake so late?” He lowered his left hand into the crib. Corrin instinctively reached out and wrapped his tiny fingers around Noctis’s thumb. A chuckle passed through Noctis’s lips. “I missed you today.”

“D-d-d” Corrin began to stutter. 

“Yeah?” Noctis muttered encouragingly. The baby had been threatening to utter his first words for the past few days, but never was able to sputter a full word.  Only the simple sounds of letters. 

“Dada!” Corrin exclaimed with a happy shriek. 

“Hm?” The Queen grumbled at the sound of her child. 

“Dada!” Corrin repeated again as if he was more sure of himself. Noctis’s lips parted. “

“Yes, Corrin,” he praised, unable to wipe the proud grin off his face. 

The future King of Lucis had finally muttered his first words…


Prompto

Ever since gaining their pediatricians approval, Prompto took 10 month old Ilaria to Wiz’s Chocobo Post nearly four times a week. It offered the perfect photo opportunities as it gave a wonderful reason for Ilaria to show off her nearly toothless smile while she giggled endlessly at the great birds. 

“There y’all are! It was gettin’ late. I was wondering if something came up,” Wiz greeted Prompto and Ilaria, who sat safely in Prompto’s arms as they approached the post. 

“Sorry for making you worry, Wiz. Ilaria is getting a new tooth and she’s been hurting a lot today. We were thinking about not coming and letting her rest, but I decided she needed some cheering up,” Prompto explaining, not even flinching as his daughter began to pull at his blonde locks.

“Aw, poor girl. Well, there ain’t nothin’ a chocobo can’t fix. Come on over,” Wiz gestured for the father and daughter duo to follow.

“Come on, Ilaria. Let’s get you to some chocobos ASAP,” Prompto pushed himself forward following Wiz to the stables. Once the yellow birds came into view Ilaria cooed in excitement and clapped her hands together in pure joy.

“There’s that smile I love!” Prompto exclaimed happily. 

“Kweh!” The familiar cries of the chocobos filled their ears as the entered the stable.

“Chobo! Oco! Chobo!” Ilaria cried with a happy shriek. 

Prompto eye’s widened as he shot a surprised look at Wiz. 

“Well I’ll be,” Wiz chuckled lowly, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Her first word!” Prompto gasped excitedly, putting Ilaria down on the stable ground and reached for his camera that was strapped on his side. Ilaria clumsily began to waddle forward and then tumbled onto her butt. The fall didn’t phase her, she simply crawled forward on her hands and knees to the nearest chocobo. The yellow bird leaned his head down to nuzzle the child. 

“Chobo! Oco!” Ilaria repeated, hugging the birds beak.

Prompto swiftly snapped the picture of the adorable moment. “Not exactly ‘chocobo’ but… I’ll take it! Wait till her mom hears about this!”


Gladiolus 

It was not unusual for the two men of the Amicitia household to take a nap together. After a long work out, Gladio retrieve Aster from his crib and take him to the couch. There, Gladiolus would lay on his back while his son sprawled against his chest. Within minutes, the boys would be out like a light. 

Aster and Gladiolus had all too much in common. Their urge to snore was one similarity. While Gladio’s snore was harsh and roaring, Aster’s snore was sweet, and hushed… but clearly noticeable. Gladio’s harsh snore never phased his child from his sleep… unlike his wife…

“Hun,” his wife’s familiar, sweet voice stirred him from his nap. “Gladio, it’s almost time for dinner.” Her light fingers tracing the skin of his upper arm. 

With a yawn, Gladio’s amber eyes fluttered open. “Alright,” he complied sleepily. Aster began to stir as well. “C’mon little buddy, time to get you fed,” Gladio took his son into his arms and carried him into the kitchen. 

“Glad Dad!” 

The sound of sudden hysterical laughter escaped his wife’s lips. “Oh my goodness, did he just say what I though he said?” 

“Glad dad!” Aster repeated, proud of the reaction he elicited from his mother.

“Heh,” Gladio chortled. “Nice job, buddy,” a sense of warm pride filled Gladio’s heart as he pressed his lips against his son’s cheek.


Ignis

The only Ignis allowed a mess in his kitchen was when young Aleena wished to play by banging on the pots and pans. She always sat at the edge of the kitchen with numerous sets of metal bowls, pots, and plastic Tupperware lying out before her with a wooden spoon in hand.

Hearing his daughter making the strangest of music always made Ignis chuckle as he prepared dinner for the evening.

BANG!

CLANG!

CRASH!

“What a lovely song, Aleena,” Ignis complimented as he busied himself at the stove as he created stir fry for the evening’s meal.

Aleena giggled with joy at her fathers compliment and continued to hit the materials laid out before her with her spoon. 

With each and every sound that echoed through the kitchen, an excited squeal escaped the baby girl’s mouth. It was true music to Ignis’s ears. 

“Darling! I think we are raising an upcoming musician!” Ignis called to his wife who was busy in the laundry room across the apartment. 

“I hear!” His wife responded enthusiastically. 

“Daaaaaaddy!” Aleena began to sing loudly as she rhythmically hit a metal stirring bowl over and over. 

Ignis turned to face the sound of his daughter’s voice, his lips parting in utter surprise. “Did you hear that?” Ignis called out to his wife once more. 

“Yes, I did!” His wife sounded much closer than before. “How sweet, Aleena,” his wife muttered. He could only assume that she hoisted their child into her arms, as the loud banging halted. “Your first word is ‘daddy.’ That’s so cute,” his wife gushed. “Look at how big your father is smiling now.”

“Daddy!” She exclaimed with a sweet coo.

Ignis didn’t even realize the large grin on his face before his wife pointed it out to him. 

“Grew apart”

It has been two years since you moved away from your hometown Riverdale and left your three best friends – Betty, Jughead and Archie, behind. Now you are back in town, feeling like everything has changed. 

Warning: none 
Jughead/Archie/Betty x Reader

Keep reading

3

For @fangirl0170…reader works for NCIS as requested. Enjoy!

Y/N strolled into the lab, slightly late. She snagged her lab coat and threw it on. She looked up to be greeted by her co-worker as well as her father.

“Sorry I’m late,” she apologized.
“What?” Gibbs asked, “Sleep through the alarm?”
She smirked. “More like I beat the alarm and lost track of time.”

Gibbs smirked before he turned back to Abby. She cocked a brow before turning back to her monitor. She clicked her screen a few times.

“Like I was saying, the blood residue on the windshield doesn’t match the blood on the seat,” Abby explained.
“So, we have a missing body,” Gibbs deduced, “Thanks Abbs.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. She grinned before he handed her a caf-pow. Smirking, he gave Y/N’s temple a kiss as well.

“Glad to see you make it, kid.”

Gibbs left the lab. Y/N turned to Abby who was holding a folder out to her. Y/N immediately opened it and started scanning. Her eyebrows raised.

“We’re working with the FBI’s BAU?” she questioned, “Why would he allow that?”
“He trusts us,” Abby quipped, “Well, the evidence, but us too. They’ve got some lookers, too.”
Y/N chuckled before moving to the monitor. “What do we got?”
“Yeah, you aren’t related,” Abby teased.


Keep reading

Jim Hates Strickler (for reasons he wouldn’t have expected)

My headcanon for Strickler and Jim began as a pretty obscure, but rational thing. Jim hates Walt Strickler. Walt Strickler did his very best to ruin his life. The life of his own mother temporarily put into the hands (and heart) of the changeling was near ended because of love that Jim had convinced himself was impossible.

Jim has a plethora of reasons to hate Walt Strickler.

And yet, above all else, he hates him because he gives what Jim couldn’t have.

Strickler marries Barbara. Their wedding is a small one on the steps of the courthouse. She dresses in a white slip of a dress with her uniform tucked into the bottom of her purse -her shift would begin a few hours after- and he’d managed to dig up a proper suit from the back of his (hers) (their) closet. The wedding would be quick, Jim would be a silent witness, and things for Jim’s mother would be good.

So, so good.

Laughter at the breakfast nook, settled in one another’s arms, tea before them and the paper shared.

Dinner would be ready by the time Jim got home, exhausted. Calling out, “mom, I’m going to make dinner I’m so sorry it’s late-” before he’s greeted with the nonchalance of his former history teacher pushing a plate into his hands. Of his mother telling him not to worry about it.

Of his mother falling asleep over her patient files, and Strickler swooping in before he can to take off her glasses and rouse her enough to trip her way up the stairs.

Jim watches as he becomes…

Unnecessary.

And then the baby arrives. And Jim prepares to hate Strickler for bringing a half changeling into the world. Prepares himself to hate Strickler for trying to go about his revenge in the form of a babbling little girl with his mother’s hair and Strickler’s (not his father, not ever his father) eyes.

And Jim is prepared to hate Strickler for being what Jim expects.

Strickler is not what Jim expects.

He’s there every moment- sharing the exhausting and taxing work as a parent with the babe’s mother as often and as much as he can. Jim finds that his own sleep schedule can finally be rectified once Strickler’s becomes scarcer, taking care of a mewling babe. That Strickler is so annoyingly present. That he’s there to feed, to change, to play, to coddle.

That weekends are spent taking the child to museums and to concerts in the park. The picnic blanket that had stayed in their attic for so long, untouched since Jim had been four years old, now has fresh grass stains and the smell of bread pudding cloying to it.

That Strickler still turns round before he and the babe are out the door to ask in that awful and concerned voice- “you’re sure you don’t want to join, Jim?” And Jim grinds his teeth and responds with something cordial, but a denial all the same. “Very well.” Strickler will kiss the new child’s fat cheeks. “Are you ready to see the fish!” It was an aquarium visit that day while Barbara pulled her third double shift of the week.

Jim hates Strickler for all the wrong reasons.

What started out as a festering hate for his invasion of Jim and his mother’s life (they were fine, they were always going to be fine) had turned into something else.

Jim never got a father.

So why does this child get a better one than he did.

cue amazing and adorably villainous father/son bonding time. Jim needs to get over himself and Strickler needs to woman up and be a dad.

Keep on Living (Chapter 4) Lin-Manuel x Reader


Part 4 was delayed due to sickness and a broken laptop, sorry for the wait. The final 5th chapter will be up soon!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Summary - Your boyfriend is an abusive asshole and you’ve been trying to hide it from Lin and everyone else in the company of Hamilton. Lin has suspected for a while, and you are forced to confess when he notices a bruise on your stomach .

I’m an abuse survivor myself. Not all abuse is the same, and so this fic is not meant to be a universal experience.

To anyone that may be experiencing abuse then my inbox is always open and I will always believe you. Tell a friend or a relative if you are able to. And there are many support lines depending on your town/state/country, talking to someone helps. Stay safe.

Warnings - I’m adding a trigger warning for mentions of emotional and physical abuse.

Word count -  3371

Tags - @21phantasticromances @doctorstethoscope @huffleheyguys @fandom-nerdness7 @superwholockbooknerd526 @rachurro @alirants @awkwardlyfiona @ruth-hamilton-delrio @shockingblonde @musiclover1072 @breiler @hollyisnotsocial @justfangirlingaround @autistic-alien @ktpayne @chloehamiltonn @livinglikelaarry @iputmyselfintothenarrative @hamlintonheights @favouritefightingfrenchmen @plamspringsdancingontables @myfatherseyesandmymothersname @ctrl-altdelete 

———————————–

Your office was dark and silent as you waited for Lin. Down the hall you could hear warm laughter and excited chatter as the cast stayed after the show to meet with the various celebrities in attendance that night. You looked at your watch. If you set off home now then Mark wouldn’t be mad.

Lin had insisted you stay with him tonight. “Remember to wait for me ok? I mean it Y/N, I’m coming to get you as soon as I can get out of here” He’d reminded you minutes before the curtain call that evening.

So now you sat and you waited. You felt like a kid waiting to be picked up after school, and you felt stupid. This was ridiculous. You weren’t a child, you didn’t need need rescuing. You had a home to go and you hated the thought of being a burden to anyone, Lin was probably just being polite. A roar of laughter echoed down the hallway and you flinched. You didn’t want to tear Lin away from all that just to babysit you. You looked at your watch again. If you set off now then you would only be a few minutes late and maybe Mark wouldn’t be that mad. Maybe he’d just shout at you, maybe he wouldn’t hit you.

Lin had promised not tell anyone about the bruise, he’d promised not tell anyone about Mark,  until you were ready. You explained you just wanted to work through today, to put all your energy into the mountain of incredibly dumb and mind numbing paperwork Alex had left you so you wouldn’t have to think about anything else, just for today. He hadn’t pushed you, he hadn’t pressed you. He’d nodded solemnly and said “whatever you need” with a devastatingly kind look which just crushed you.

The weight of this secret hung over you both like a dark cloud all day. The Ham4Ham show which he’d been excitedly plotting all day was now postponed and he approached Renee and Oak to take the lead and host instead.

“Hey what happened to the Backstreet Boys thing? You getting nervous about those dance moves huh?” teased Oak.

“Yeah I guess” Lin replied wearily. Renee pushed Oak aside, sensing something amiss and reassured Lin it was fine.

A few hours earlier he had been so excited about doing something so goofy. But now his eyes had lost their sparkle, instead he looked pensive and reserved and you noticed that he kept tensing his hands into tight fists and closing his eyes. And that made it worse, because it was fine for you to feel shitty, but now there was the overwhelming guilt of making Lin feel shitty too. And he didn’t deserve that.

You looked at your watch again. Ok, if you set off now then you’d definitely be home late. Mark would most definitely be in a terrible mood. He would yell at you that you were disgusting, ugly, pathetic, and as long as you kept quiet and apologized maybe he wouldn’t hit you that hard.

At that moment the door to your office swung open and Lin’s head popped round the door

“Hey Y/N, you ready? Sorry it took so long”

You swallowed the panic that had been rising in your chest only moments before and breathed. The sight of Lin’s soft eyes and a face greeting you with such kindness melted away your trepidation. You nodded nervously and Lin stretched out his hand.

“Let’s go” he said, smiling at you. You offered a weak smile in return and he grabbed your hand to lead you out.

“Ok so I’m warning you, I wasn’t expecting company tonight so things might be a little bit messy” laughed Lin as he opened the door to the apartment. It actually wasn’t that bad, you’d expected it to look a lot more chaotic, but there were piles of notebooks, papers, post-its, forgotten projects, and just the usual chaos you were used to seeing around Lin all the time.

“Honestly it’s fine” you mumbled, looking down at the floor. “I’m just so sorry to be putting you out like this, I feel awful, I shouldn’t be here.” You paused as you entered through the door, as though maybe you really should just turn back home right now. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

“No way, you’re staying. I mean it. You spent the whole cab back here apologizing, you are now entering a no apology zone, ok? No more apologies.” He gave you his best school teacher frown, the one that he used in rehearsals to make you laugh, and you squeezed out a small smile

You place your bag down on the couch, feeling everything move around you in slow motion. You felt like you were under water. When did this become your life? It was an almost an out of body experience where you could see yourself from above, feeling sorry for this mess of a girl in Lin’s apartment. You wondered when you had become this weak.

“I said are these ok?”

“Huh?”

You realized Lin had been talking to you and you’d zoned out. You’d been doing that a lot lately.

Lin gestured at the clean towels in his hands.

“I thought you might need a shower, I just got you some towels. There’s some stuff to sleep in as well, it’s all clean I promise”. He smiled warmly at you but his eyes were still clouded in darkness. The face of someone so desperately trying to cheer you up while masking their own pain. You nodded and smiled and headed to the bathroom.

The hot shower felt good against your sore stiff muscles. Your body ached, and your belly was tender to touch. You looked down at your skin now marked in a map of bruises, some old, some new, and vowed to yourself that there would be no more new bruises after tonight. Mark would never hit you again.

You dried off and smiled to yourself as you unfolded the Ducktales t-shirt and sweatpants Lin had left you. The jersey felt soft against your skin, smelling of peppermint and fabric softener. You headed back to the lounge and for a second you watched Lin as he sat, unaware of your gaze. He sat on the edge of the couch, his hands clasped together in a tight fist which rested on his knees, bouncing up and down in agitation. He cricked his neck. There was a rage in his eyes which he’d been hiding from you. You’d seen it briefly that afternoon when you’d first shown him the bruise, but he’d worn a fake smile all evening for your benefit. But here was the same murderous look on his face, the anger that had scared you, and you felt an instant pang of guilt for making him feel this way.

“Thanks for the shower” you said, making your presence known. Lin looked up at you, the rage instantly melting from his face, and he smiled at you.

“And thanks for all this” you said gesturing to the camomile tea he’d prepared and the blankets and pillows on the couch which he’d set up.

“Oh this is for me, you’ll be sleeping in my bed tonight” said Lin, moving over so you could sit down next to him.

“But..”

Lin held up his hands in protest. “Y’N there’s no way in hell I’m letting you sleep on this couch ok? No arguments. The bed is yours.” You sat down clutching the mug of tea for warmth and gave a resigned nod.

“God I’m so sorry…” you began

“Hey, this is a no apology zone remember? “ He smiled at you in reassurance and his smile, god, it was more than you deserved right now.

“I’m sorry. I know you said no apologies, but god I’m so sorry” You blinked back the tears forming in your eyes as Lin affectionately placed his hand on your shoulder with a soft squeeze letting you know that it was ok.

“Talk to me” Lin said gently.


And you talked.

You finally talked.

All the things you hadn’t been able to say, finally got said. You told him how things weren’t always like this. How the early days of your relationship with Mark had been fun, how he’d made you feel good, how he used to be a nice guy. But then how he’d lost his job and ended up moving in with you far too quickly and now it doesn’t feel like your home anymore.

Lin didn’t look away, he nodded at you to continue, he never interrupted. When you found yourself unable to form words when things get too difficult, he lightly traced small soft circles on your shoulder with his thumb, inviting you to continue, but never pressuring you to speak. His eyes showing you that he unequivocally believed you.

In a moment of quiet you sipped your tea which had now turned cold.

“And when did he first hit you?” asked Lin, his tone solemn quiet.

“It wasn’t hitting to begin with” You explained. “He’d say things, yell things. He’d yell at me that I was a slut, that I was a whore, that I was disgusting. He’d tell me I was pathetic, that nobody would want me, he made me feel grateful that he even wanted me. He laughed at me, said that my music, my work was worthless, that soon everyone would see I was worthless. And after a while I guess I just started to believe it too. I know that sounds stupid. I mean I know I’m stupid.”

Lin shook his head and stared at the floor, his mouth opened then closed, as though he was about to speak but forced himself not to before taking a breath.

“You aren’t stupid” he whispered.

You told him about the first time he’d hit you. The black eye, the marks on your wrist, the way he’d pulled your hair.

You told him about how Mark had seen the video, about how Jasmine’s words had antagonized him. How angry he’d been.

“And if that wasn’t enough, he heard me drunkenly refer to you as cute in that video, and boy was he gonna punish me for that”.

Lin turned his head to stare at you in that moment, his eyes were wild.

“It was nothing, I was drunk, but he heard it. And that’s why it’s my fault. That night he…. Well I don’t think I can even say out loud the things he called me that night, I don’t think I ever want to hear those words again” You swallowed hard.

“That night I guess I was just a punching bag for him. He told me he’d hit me where nobody would see. He punched me so hard I couldn’t breathe. I just remember him kicking me in the stomach and then nothing. I think I passed out from the pain.”

You swirled the mug of half drunk cold tea in your hands and breathed deeply. You had said it. You’d finally told someone. You felt lighter and free but also in utter shock from your own words, you’d not heard them said out loud before.

You looked over at Lin. He was still staring at the floor. His knee bounced while slowly shaking his head. His hands were in two tight fists, his knuckles white which he flexed and tensed. He muttered in Spanish under his breath

“…Voy a matarlo”

“Lin?”

He looked up at you. He couldn’t keep the anger out of his face this time.

“I’m sorry. I just… god I just can’t believe that someone has done this to you!” He spat out in a rage. “That this fucking scumbag thought he had the right to do this to you. It just….”

Lin sat back against the couch, running his hands back through his hair, exhaling in exasperation.

He looked at you biting his lip, biting back the rage and steadying himself.

He lowered his voice.

“This wasn’t your fault. You know that right?”

“I know. But it’s also hard to really know that. When you hear that you’re a giant piece of shit for 4 months straight that becomes the only truth that you really know.”

Your eyelids felt heavy and you rubbed your temples. It was 3am. You’d talked for most of the night and you suddenly felt exhausted.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have made you talk about this so much.” Lin said, standing up and reaching out his hand.

“Hey, this is the no apology zone remember” you said smiling sleepily, and you grabbed his hand as he lead you to the bedroom.  

You couldn’t keep your eyes open and Lin pulled back the sheets while you climbed in bed. You wanted to say more, you wanted to apologize at least a hundred times more, explain that you weren’t stupid, you wanted to figure out a plan of action, figure out what you were going to do about Mark, and then add a few more apologies in for good measure. But all you could mumble out was a sleepy “thank you” as your head hit the pillow.

Lin pulled the blanket over you and gently kissed your temple while whispering “Goodnight” before turning out the light and leaving you to sleep.

You woke up just 3 hours later in a panic. Where were you? Where was Mark? You caught your breath and tried to calm yourself down. Your eyes adjusted and you realised you were in Lin’s room. Last night’s confessional came flooding back and you realised it was ok,  you were safe. Mark wasn’t here.

You sat up in bed. The blanket, the pillows, your t-shirt all smelled of Lin: peppermint, his coconut shampoo, and something else, something warm and familiar. Looking at the empty space next to you in the bed you felt a pang of loneliness and the dawning realisation that you wished Lin was there with you. You rubbed your tired eyes. It was far too early in the morning to be having these kinds of confusing feelings. You at least needed coffee before sorting through those emotions.

You crept out of bed, heading down the hall hoping to get a glass of water from the kitchen without waking Lin. You stood in the doorway and a smile crept on your face. You didn’t have to worry about waking Lin. It was 6am and Lin was sitting cross legged on the sofa eating cereal watching cartoons with a dopey contented smile on his face.

“Morning!” you croaked

“Hey sleepyhead” he grinned moving up to give you space to join him on the sofa.

“Why are you even awake?” you laughed as you climbed up next to him, resting your head against his shoulder.

“I could ask you the same” he smiled.

He set his bowl of cereal down, putting his arm around you and greeting you with a friendly forehead kiss, which made your skin tingle. Oh yeah, this was definitely adding to the confusing crush building in your head. But you didn’t move away, you felt safe, and warm, and happy for the first time in months.

“So I’m guessing you didn’t sleep much?” he asked.

“Nah” you sighed. “But it’s ok, I actually feel good. There’s just still so much to sort out though.”

“This definitely calls for coffee then!”

Lin jumped up and brought back the pot of coffee from the kitchen and two mugs and for the rest of the morning you quietly watched old episodes of Powerpuff Girls under the blanket on the sofa in a comfortable sleepy silence. You were so relieved that he hadn’t pressed you for more details, thankful that he hadn’t tried to get you to talk any more. You were all cried out, and you were so grateful that there was no expectation for you to continue the intense conversations from the night before.

“You know you can stay here for as long as you need” Lin said finally, breaking the silence. “You don’t have to figure anything out just yet, we can deal with Mark stuff later when you’re feeling up to it.”

You nodded. You weren’t able to make any of the big decisions that morning. Decisions such as whether to go to the police, how to get Mark out of your home, how to move on with your life, and why you felt this strange nervous flutter inside you when Lin smiled at you. They would all need to wait for another time.

“Thank you” you said earnestly. “Honestly, for everything, just… thank you.”

He smiled before pulling you back into another hug. It’s a friendly gesture, you told yourself. But still, you felt tingles of confusion and excitement ripple through you as he pulled you back under his arm and kissed the side of your head. You shivered and turned to face him, your nose practically touching his. Your skin felt electric.

This wasn’t just a friendly gesture.

Neither of you spoke. Neither of you looked away.  He glanced down at your lips, his mouth opened and he gently cupped your cheek with his hand. He looked up at your eyes searching to see if this was ok. You saw the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly before he pulled you close to him and closed his eyes.

He kissed you so softly it tickled your lips. A small soft butterfly kiss that seemed to linger in slow motion as his bottom lip dragged lightly against yours. It lasted a second before Lin pulled back, removing his hand from your face and shaking his head, his eyes already full of apologies.

“God, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that” He shook his head and bit his lip.

You looked from his eyes, down to his lips and you didn’t even think. You leaned in and kissed him again. You caught him by surprise and pressed your lips to his.  He slowly began to kiss you back. They were small delicate quick kisses at first, turning into deep hungry desperate kisses, and you felt his hand in your hair, holding the back of your head pulling you closer to him, and his other hand caressing your cheek while his lips danced with yours. Strands of his hair brushed against your face as your pressed closer.

His lips felt urgent and warm and you felt his hand move from your cheek, slowly moving down your arm before wrapping around your waist. You gasped, your skin was still so tender to touch and you suddenly broke away from his lips, moving his hand away from the sore and aching bruise on your waist.

“Oh shit…” Lin began

“It’s ok it’s ok, I just… It still hurts” you winced.

“God, Y/N I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, we’re in a no apology zone, remember?” You smiled, but Lin didn’t smile back. He stared  down at your waist where you’d lifted up the t-shirt to inspect your bruise. Your skin was dark purple and blue, with yellow edges and his eyes were wide in panic.

“No, this is too soon. You’re vulnerable and not ok, and I don’t want to take advantage of you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

There was a stunned silence, and your face flushed with embarrassment. Of course he didn’t want to kiss you. Who would want to kiss you? You were ugly and pathetic, and isn’t this what Mark had always told you? You were worthless, you were nothing, you were a joke, and you all you heard was Mark’s cruel laughter ringing in your head.

“It’s ok” you said softly. “It was my fault, it was stupid. Let’s pretend that never happened ok? We’re just friends, I was confused and I overstepped, I’m sorry.”

(Mark was right, I’m pathetic. I’m ugly. I’m a joke)

You looked back at the tv, suddenly finding yourself incredibly immersed and engrossed in the latest Powerpuff Girls adventures avoiding all eye contact with Lin.

“Hey Y/N really, it’s ok, you didn’t overstep, I really wanted to…”

You cut him off

“Hey, so I should probably get dressed” you exclaimed, a little too brightly. “And I might need to head to Target and pick up some underwear or something.” You began clearing up the the mugs and Lin’s forgotten cereal bowl.

“And we still have Ham4Ham to work on today. I hope you’ve been practicing your Backstreet Boys!” You forced a wide grin.

Lin’s eyes narrowed.

“Are you ok?”

“Of course!” you smiled.

(I’m ugly. I’m worthless)

“Are we ok?”

You sighed and closed your eyes. “Yes of course we are. You’re absolutely right, that shouldn’t have happened. Let’s just keep things light and easy today, I think that’s all my brain can handle.”

(Mark was right)

Lin looked at you, studying your face before nodding slowly in agreement.

“Whatever you need, I’ve got you.”  

You nodded, unable to speak. Faking a smile and holding it together had become your speciality.

———-

Thanks for reading.  The 5th and final chapter is coming soon here!

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


Keep reading

Old Friends - Jughead x Reader

-I’m a new face to blogging so be aware I’m like an old grandma on the internet but I hope you enjoy this thing I wrote. I’m actually happy with how it turned out…ish but you know, room for improvement!

Show: RiverDale
Pairing: Jughead x Reader
Summary: you were the one who gave Jughead Jones is famous hat
Word count: 1241
Warnings: no just my terrible writing!

~~~


10 years prior

You walked into RiverDale Elementary. Your black backpack on your back as you made your ways through the ever winding corridors. Finally, spotting your classroom door you pushed the stark yellow door open and waddled inside.

Your little 6 year old legs entered the child decorated classroom, messily drawn ladybugs and various other pictures decorated the walls. Your (Y/E/C) child eyes, scanned over every inch of the messy classroom that has seemingly become over crowded with people. Your eyes landed on a small boy with Raven hair, as soon as your eyes spotted him, your eyes lit up, like a kid in a candy store.

You bumbled on over to the lone boy sat in the corner of the room, unzipping your backpack and pulling out a blue decorated box.

“Hey, Juggie” you tapped his shoulder with your free hand, emotions slightly building up inside you.

“Oh hi (Y/N/N), what’s that?” The young boy asked as his eyes landed on the box, that you now cradled in your arms.

“It’s a present, for you!” You giggled, pushing your hands forward to allow the boy to collected from your grasp.

“It’s not my birthday, why have you gotten me a present?” Juggie asked so innocently.

“Well, we are moving and you are my best friend! The bestest in the world!! So I decided to get you a handmade presents. My mummy says it’s one of a kind!” You nodded as you moved your hands about crazily.

“You mean you are leaving me?” The boy asked, the now gloomy look painting his face.

“Yeah, I just came in to give you this” you smiled sadly, allowing jughead to stand to his feet and give you a big hug.

You knew you were going to miss this little boy. But hopefully one day in the future you will be reunited.

“Goodbye Juggie, i love you soo much” you smiled and kissed his cheek, before spinning on your heels and making your way over to the door, Turing around one last time to wave the boy a goodbye.

“Bye (Y/N) I’ll miss you” the boy whispered as the sad smile reappeared on his still developing face.

***

Present day

“Dad, I’m going for a walk” you called out as you slipped on your navy jacket, brushing your fingers through your (Y/H/C) hair and making your way to the front door.

“Okay, princess! Be home by 10!” Your father called out as you shut the door and walked of the porch and down the winding path. Starting your journey to pops.

The neon, diner sign lit your face in a dimly lit blue and you pushed open the door, hearing the all too familiar ding of the welcoming bell.

Your eyes scanned around the diner, taking in the familiar scene that was displayed in front of you. The neatly spaced booths littered the little, quaint diner. The now older Pops stood behind the counter like he use to when you were just a little girl, running around in burgundy converse and a little girly dress, oh how your style has changed.

“Hi, erm, can I have a milkshake please, strawberry if possible?” You asked as you approached the counter to be greeted with the one and only pops himself. The old chap just smiled at you, taking in your face as realisation hit him.

“Look how big you are now (Y/N)! I can’t believe you’re here, why did you come back?” Pop Tate asked as he just stared at you with a charmingly, wide grin.

“I know, I’m so happy you recognised me. And my dad wanted to move back since we lost our mum” you replied sadly, memories of your late mother coming back to you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry (Y/N), well it’s good to see you. Enjoy your milkshake” Pop said as he went of to serve another customer. You walked away from the bar and too a available booth, plopping down on one of the seats and tucking into the strawberry milkshake you had brought.

You were sat there for what felt like hours, scrolling through your phone and drawing the a piece of paper you slipped into your pocket back at your house when, you heard the ding of the bell that hung above the door and a group of teenagers walk in, chatting amongst themselves as the walked to the furthest booth in the diner.

You couldn’t help but over hear the conversation being said and noticing one of the teenage patrons that had just walked into the diner.

How could you forget him?!

“Hey, Jughead. Where did you get your hat from anyway?” A raven haired girl asked. The girl was very pretty and obviously was close to the group of teens and that you haven’t met before, obviously other than the brooding, angsty looking one.

You knew this was your queue to walk over there and introduce yourself, battering up the courage to walk straight over there.

“He got it from an old friend. Would like to think he still remembers” you stated as you walked towards the table, the group of teenagers just Turing around and looking at you.

“And who are you, damn girl!” The Raven haired girl spoke up again as the others just gawked at you.

“(Y/N/N)?” The one voice you had been dying to here spoke up. The raven haired boy looked up in shock as his eyes met yours

“Hi Juggie” you smiled as you pushed a strand of hair from in front of your hair. “It’s been awhile, glad to see you wearing the beanie” you gazed upon his head the beanie you gave him just 10 years ago.

“Yeah, it’s been a hell of a while” he gasped, or a manly grunt came out, obviously he was not impressed to see the likes of you Turing up.

“So, where my hug? Where the ’(Y/N/N) I’ve missed you so much, I’ve never stopped thinking about you! I’m so glad you’re here?!’ Mumbo jumbo that normally happens?” You sarcastically remarked.

“Sorry to interrupt but who are you?” A brown haired boy who was definitely ‘too gay to function’ spoke up.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N) or (Y/N/N) for short. I lived here 10 years ago, Jug was my best mate in elementary” you spoke up confidently, waving to the rest of the teenagers. “And yous are?”

“I’m Kevin! This is Veronica, Archie, Betty and you obviously know Jughead Jones” the lad named Kevin replied.

“Well it’s nice to meet you all, Juggie here obviously hasn’t mentioned me” you laughed as you gained an eye roll from the dark haired boy.

“We need to talk” Jughead spoke up, hopping up from his place in the booth and ushering you outside. As soon as the door shut to the diner he sighed.

“I know what you are abo-” you were cut of by the boy giving you a massive hug, almost a bear hug.

“I’ve missed you so much (Y/N/N)” he said softly and he rubbed your back.

“I missed you too Forsythe” you laughed as you just continued to hug in the night sky that was above you. The flickering, neon diner sign that lit the two of your figures as the moon shined in the RiverDale sky.


You were so glad to be back.

anonymous asked:

More hogwarts AU of Maggie and Alex?

She loves flying.

Loves it.

The wind in her hair, the broom between her legs, the way her robes whipped back behind her, like they were her wings and she can soar over the Forest, over the castle, over the lake, over Hogsmeade. Over everything.

It makes her forget. Or, almost, anyway.

Forget – or, almost, anyway – that she can’t go back to her parents’ place over the holidays, because they tolerated her being a witch but dammit, he would not stand for her being a… a homosexual…. too, because how could she possibly be so selfish?

“God, you’d think he’s afraid of getting hexed for even saying the word ‘lesbian,’“ she mutters mid-flight.

Almost forgets.

Almost.

But a voice calls her back, a voice calls her down.

“Maggie! Maggie, it’s almost dinner, and if Professor J’onzz catches you using the pitch without permission again – “

“Alright, alright, I’m coming, Little Danvers!” she calls, and she grins, relishing the way the third year looks after her, cares for her. No one’s ever done that before.

She takes in a deep breath, and she catapults her Comet 260 into a nearly ninety degree dive. She hears Kara scream for her to be careful, and she pulls up cleanly – well, less cleanly than she would have with a less rickety broom, but hey, at least she’s not a pile of mush on the grass – just above the ground, just before it’s too late.

“You know I get so nervous when you do that,” Kara says shakily as Maggie swings her leg off her broom and tosses her arm around Kara’s shoulder, setting off toward the Great Hall.

“I’m sorry, Little Danvers. I just couldn’t resist. I love the feeling, you know?”

“You love the feeling of practically getting yourself killed?” a voice drawls as they stroll past the greenhouse, and Kara lights up, but Maggie stiffens.

“Danvers,” she greets as Kara slips away from Maggie’s side and into Alex’s arms.

Kara – the Hufflepuff third year – is the only one who touches Slytherin fifth year Alex Danvers and lives to tell the tale.

Maggie – proud Hufflepuff fifth year – would love to join that elite crew.

Because Alex is rumored to be ruthless, but Maggie only ever sees that streak when someone she loves is threatened.

And Alex is rumored to be cold, but she’s spent too many nights listening to Kara’s stories of Alex’s warmth to believe the facade the Slytherin puts up.

But she’s always afraid that Alex only ever tolerates her because, in Kara’s first year, Maggie put her body between Kara and a bunch of Slytherins who didn’t yet know Kara was The Alex Danvers’s kid sister.

Maggie doesn’t know that she’s nearly all Alex ever thinks about.

But Maggie has a smile that lights up the entire Astronomy Tower at midnight, and Alex is withdrawn and distant and cold to everyone but Kara.

Maggie is kind and Maggie is selfless and Maggie is so brave Alex often wonders why the hell she’s not in Gryffindor and she’s so smart Alex often wonders why the hell she’s not in Ravenclaw, but the only House Alex knows Maggie doesn’t belong in?

Her House.

Slytherin.

And Maggie deserves someone better than someone who lives in the dungeons and likes it.

Maggie deserves sunshine.

Kara is sunshine, but Alex? Alex is the opposite.

So she keeps her distance and she keeps her cool, because anyway, she doesn’t want to imagine Eliza’s response if she came home saying she wants women, not men. Because how could that ever be good enough? How could that ever be perfect?

“Sawyer,” she greets, her eyes cooly raking Maggie’s body up and down. “You pulled that off on that old Comet?”

Maggie shrugs and tosses her broom from hand to hand.

“It’s a reliable enough old thing.”

Alex stares between Kara and Maggie and Maggie’s rickety old broom, and Alex thinks about Kara’s pleas, which come in almost daily now – Alex, come on, I think she likes you, and I know you like her even though you pretend not to; wouldn’t it be amazing, for my sister and my best friend to date? Because let’s face it, you already have huge crushes on each other; Alex, guess what spell Maggie taught me last night?; Alex, Maggie loves astronomy, too, you should ask her on a date to the Astronomy Tower, I can set it all up for you! – and she bites her lip, and she sighs, and she thinks about how she wouldn’t be afraid to put her name in the Goblet of Fire, so dammit, she’s not going to be afraid to be vulnerable with a girl anymore.

“Well hey. If you ever want to take a ride with me, I um… I can lend you my Nimbus 2001. The ride would be smoother and the way you fly… it… you know, with the maneuvering and the control and the finesse… watching you fly on a steadier broom would be… I mean… kind of beautiful. If you wanted. Whatever. Isn’t it dinner time? We should get to the Great Hall.”

She squeezes Kara’s hand and sweeps off for the Great Hall at breakneck speed, and Maggie is left spluttering and stammering, and Kara is left with a grin that lights up the entire dusk.

“Little Danvers, did your sister just… did your.. your extremely badass, super hot sister just ask me out?”

Kara just squeals in response, and tugs Maggie along.

“Alex! Wait up! Maggie says yes!”

Alex stops without turning around, because her smile is bright enough to match her sister’s, and her cheeks are more crimson than that Olsen kid’s robes.

So she doesn’t turn around, but she waits for her little sister and the girl who – maybe – is going to be her girlfriend, and they head into the Great Hall, hearts pounding with everything that has been and everything that might be, together.

The Profiler’s Safe Place [Spencer Reid x Reader]

Requested by anon: “I’m so glad you want Reid lol imagine being the person Reid goes to when he’s over thinking or panicked. Just being there for him when a case or situation is overwhelming. I think that’s cute and dramatic lol -🐞”

A/N: First Criminal Minds fic on this blog! How exciting. ^.^

__________

If their is one thing you consider your apartment, its safe. It has a good security system, locks, and of course the FBI agent who is your neighbor. Yes, Dr. Spencer Reid is your neighbor.

The two of you have become quite the friends. You’ve also even gotten to meet some of his co-workers/friends. They were all amazingly nice people, but they noticed how different your relationship was with Spence. It was completely friends, no co-worker, or case drama to mix in.

Over time your apartment has become a safe haven for the good doctor. No matter what time of day or night you’re always open to listen to his overly thunk thoughts or the nightmare he just had.

Often you’d even let him crash on your couch if it was late and he was still worked up.

All of these things made tonight no different. Finding him leaning against your door, looking like a lost puppy.

“Hey Spence” you greeted. Giving him a wide smile, something he dearly loved to see adhere your features.

“H-Hey [F/n], sorry to bother you just getting home but could we talk? Please?” his voice shaking a little as usual, for some reason it did that when he started talking but eventually warmed up to your presence. You thought this happened around everyone he was comfortable with but in fact it only happened around you.

This boy was head over heels for you. No matter how he’d like to deny it. He didn’t want to pull you intimately into the life of Rapists and Serial Killers.

“Of course, you know my door’s always open to you” Answering while unlocking your door.

He followed you in, taking his shoes off by the door. “What were you out doing tonight?” curious as to why you were later than usual.

“A date“ you answered simply. “Oh really?” he asked, his voice a bit pained.

“Yeah, it was a waste of time though. Guy was an ass. Last time I let my friend set me up with someone” you chuckled while standing in your kitchen. Having made some tea for the both of you. Not hearing his sigh of relief.

Meeting him at the couch you handed him a mug before sitting by his side. “So what’s got the doctor troubled?”

“I, um. You know how my mother has schizophrenia?” he asked hesitantly. You nodded having been told about his childhood already.

“Well I’m reaching the age where those symptoms begin to show, I mean I’ve had testing done and those results say I’m fine but there’s always the chance that I won’t be and it’s scary.” The pace of his words quick. He did that when trying to get a thought out or opening up to someone.

At this point you’re more than capable with keeping up with him. 

“Spence, yes there will always be risk factors but if the tests say you’re going to be okay you should trust them. Over thinking about what might happen will only affect your time in the present. Enjoy life in the moment. And if something does end up showing itself then we cross that bridge when we come to it” You comforted him. 

“But what happens if I do end up having something? What if I end up as bad as my mom?”

“Spence you know more than anyone that mental illness is different for everyone. There’s no guarantee that you will reach that point. But how things are going now, you’re about as normal as a genius can be” you giggled. Making a smile pull at his lips. 

“Thanks [F/n]. You always know just what to say.” he smiled at you. Relief filling you at seeing he’s back to his fact spewing self.

“Hey, that’s what I’m here for.” You laughed, shrugging. “I’ll always be here for you Spence, okay?” reassuring him at taking his hand. He smiled, lightly squeezing it.

“[F/n]?” he whispered, staring at your hands. “Yes?” you matched his tone.

Looking up at you, hope in his eyes. A completely new expression on his face, one of hope and confidence. “Would you maybe want to–” Though his voice was cut off by his phone ringing.

He apologized before answering, “Hey Hotch… Yeah I understand… I’ll leave now”

He hung up the phone and looked at you apologetically “I’m sor-” you stopped him by raising your hand, “No worries, duty calls” smiling at him. 

Getting up to leave he slipped on his shoes. He was halfway out the door when you stopped him. Looking at him from the couch you called, “Hey Spencer?” He looked back at you curiously. “Yes” you answered.

“What?“ His face contorting with confusion. 

“Yes, I’d love to get dinner with you.” He visibly tensed from shock. “Y-You mean?”

You chuckled, “Being friends with you I’ve picked up some profiling abilities. I finished the sentence for you, how’d I do?” smiling at him, a sparkle in your eyes.

He smiled and looked at his feet, “Great, you did a great job. I’ll uh, I’ll call you after the case” nerves twisted with happiness in his tone.

“I’m looking forward to it” you smiled. He waved before closing the door behind him. Biting your lip you smiled before nestling into the couch further. Unaware of Spencer high-fiving himself in the hallway.

Opposites Attract

Originally posted by worldmagiiic

“How is the most beautiful girl in all the world?” Kiseok smirked knowing you would overreact for the simplest things.

You blushed hearing the compliment. It wasn’t the first time he had told you this but it never failed to get a reaction out of you. “Who are you talking to” you covered your cheeks with your hands trying to avoid him.

Keep reading

With Mars Bars, Snickers and Skittles

Happy birthday @mysenia. I’m so sorry I’m late but I’m in the middle of a writer’s block and just couldn’t write. It’s taken me forever to finish, sorry! It’s nearly 5am here so maybe it’s not too late??? Hopefully you’ll like this and it will be worth the wait T.T

Peter officially wakes up exactly on his birthday.

On that 27th of October, dark clouds greet him when he painstakingly turns his head and everything indicates that it’s one of those rare cold days in California. On that 27th of October his doctor nearly drops the chart she was holding and her little entourage of interns flutter around excitedly because it’s a… miracle.

(Peter has a feeling that he will come to hate that word pretty fast.)

They make him go through a battery of tests a mile long that leaves him even more exhausted than he already felt. By the end of it all, he finds himself in a new room, in a new bed, with a tray with soup and a strawberry jello that the nurse has plated and placed a candle on. Peter doesn’t know how to feel about it but he has always loved sweet things, so he thanks the nurse, blows the candle and eats it anyway.

He regrets it later. Not because he gets sick or anything, but because he doesn’t and that’s a miracle too.

(It’s been less than a day and he hates the word already so he was right about that. Shocking.)

He asks. He knows who’s dead, of course. He became the alpha the moment Talia died, so the bonds transferred to him instantly and he felt most of those snap before he could even reach home. But three of those were still active after he tore the unsuspecting Kate and Gerard Argent’s throats apart and forced his way inside the house. None of those were in there, all the ones he found were already dead, and he lost consciousness just after managing to crawl his way out. Those three bonds are still active right now, so what happened?

The nurse tells him that Laura is on her way, that they had tried to reach her the moment he woke up but were unable to. She should be here any moment now, she says. However, it’s not her who makes it first but a sweaty and winded Cora.

Peter has never been a family man. Ever. He was more likely to skip the once a year family reunion than to actually attend it. However, he has to admit that he has always had a soft spot for Talia’s brats. He used to call Cora his tough crybaby because she would power through whatever was upsetting her like a seasoned warrior and then go to Peter’s downtown office to vent. If Peter was in a meeting she would patiently wait outside until it was over. Then she would unceremoniously enter, grab her pastel and sparkly stuffed unicorn (that he kept in plain view just for the entertainment it provided via his client’s reactions) and bawl her eyes out. Peter would let her vent and not intervene until she either sat on one of the chairs he had in front of his desk or on his lap. He then would give her a Mars bar that he kept in his first drawer just for her (Snickers for Derek, Skittles for Laura) and they would talk (she normally wanted revenge, Derek just a good vent and sometimes advice, and Laura could go both ways) until she felt better. If this happened at home, he more often than not would find himself with a squatter in his bed.

Peter fell into a coma in January and has woken up nearly in November, but of the next year, so it’s been nearly two years and Cora is fourteen already. She has gone from slightly chubby to spindly and Peter frowns inwardly, because he doesn’t like what it implies. She waits until the nurse excuses herself to walk towards the bed and try to muster a smile. Peter sighs and draws her in. She lands with a grunt on the bed and holds herself stiffly for a few seconds before she collapses and he starts to feel something wet where she has hidden her face on the crook of his neck.

Laura and Derek arrive shortly after but Cora doesn’t emerge from her hiding place. They both look startlingly thin and worn out, but Laura specially so. She tears up the moment she sees him awake and comes to hug him almost immediately. Derek remains by the door, looking miserable.

“I’m sorry,” Laura babbles. “My boss is an asshole and I couldn’t give him an excuse to fire me and-”

“Shush,” Peter croaks simply and she quiets and collapses just like Cora beside him.

Derek is still by the door.

Just before her death, Kate Argent was bragging about the methods she had used to get what she needed. Peter knows. Derek is sixteen years old right now, so he was fourteen then. He was a kid and even if some part of Peter wishes he had been fully an adult so he could blame him, rage and let his own anger out, he can’t. If anyone is to blame here apart from the obvious, it’s Peter and Talia and Mathew. They were the adults, they should have noticed something. Peter should have noticed something amiss.

And so, he does the most difficult thing he has done in his life and says, fully believing it.

“It wasn’t your fault, Derek. Come here.”

And Derek shudders, swallows thickly and unravels before his eyes. Cora starts crying again, Laura shakes even harder. The nurse has enough tact to not say anything when she finds all of them in a pile.

How Laura managed to keep Derek and Cora’s guardianship, Peter doesn’t know, but he suspects strongly that the Tribunal moved things along to facilitate it to make up for what happened. Their “kindness” and “helpfulness” ended right there, though, because Laura has been running herself to an early grave with three jobs to keep up with the hospital and their livelihood expenses. She should have received the life insurance dues but the company contested them and in the end she ended up with more expenses (from the lawyer’s fees) than what she started on, so she had to let it go because she couldn’t afford the risk of not being able to pay for the little flat where they live at the worst part of town. She never even started college in UCLA like she was supposed to.

She has been arguing a lot with Derek because he wants to leave his studies to work full time to relieve her of some of the pressure and she won’t have it. Cora is still in mandatory schooling but she helps sometimes at Derek’s workplace before going to school and around the neighbourhood for a pittance after it.

They are tired, worn down, stressed and downright miserable.

This situation is unacceptable.

The first thing he does is contact the Tribunal. If it was only about Peter, he’d prefer to make it on his own without having to depend on them, but this is about Laura not looking a step from keeling over, about Derek not feeling guilty about continuing his studies, about Cora not looking like a strong wind will blow her away, so he will swallow his pride. He may not be able to get what he wants from the insurance company, but he can strong arm the Tribunal into doing that for him.

On another front, Peter finds out that he has just missed the chance to take the bar exam again and the next examination period is in February, so he can’t do anything about that. The thing, though, is that his clients chose him mainly for his deviousness and his smarts, and those are more than fine even if he just woke up. He can try to reach out and offer his services as an external consultant until he has his license again. He doesn’t lose anything by trying and even if it doesn’t work, he will have let them know for when he goes back full time on February. If it does work, he’ll get another source of income that will give them a reprieve.

He even knows with whom to start.

Peter, love, I have missed you so much!” one of his favourite clients gushes when he offers his services as a consultant and briefly demonstrates that he’s still as capable as ever. This particular client likes very hung Latinos that always turn to be golddiggers that want to steal his fortune. “My new lawyer is just no good! Dear Pablo got a veritable fortune out of me when he left me and that’s no good. I thought it would happen again with Roberto but here you are again to save me from a cruel fate!” He sighs dramatically. “He was so cute when we married, love, and he worshipped me so much…

“You mean your cock,” Peter points out dryly, like many times before.

Well, that too,” he giggles. “He did this thing with his tongue that… Let me tell you, I’m going to have trouble finding someone who knows how to do that, love, and I’m already mourning because it was fantastic.

“You always say that, Anthony,” Peter says amused.

It’s your fault, darling,” the man pouts. “You know you are my one true love. We would be so good together! Ah, but no use crying over what will never be.” He sighs again. “I’ll have my assistant send you all the necessary documents to your temporary address. Get back to me as soon as possible, yes?

And so, by the time Peter finally gets fed up and leaves the hospital AMA, the insurance company has paid up everything it should have and he has a somewhat steady and hefty source of income.

There are a lot of changes in that first month. Among other small things, they move to a bigger flat while Peter sorts out the Hale land issue, Derek stops talking about leaving his studies and only works at the weekends (because apparently his work is not that bad, which in his case is as good as a singing endorsement), Cora stops helping around the neighbourhood (she just gives a hand at Derek’s workplace because she likes it too) and Laura is currently unemployed because Peter flat out ordered her to leave all her works when she couldn’t bring herself to make the decision even though she really wanted to. Peter also enforced the rule of having as many meals together as they can and has watched satisfied as they gain weight steadily.

All in all, he’s satisfied with the progress even though he knows they need to address what happened. He knows better than to push it, though, because even if the kids are as different from each other as day and night, they do share a common feature between them and with Peter. None of them do well when pushed to talk, they need to make up their minds by themselves first, so Peter just waits while they do. Peter is ready for when they feel like it.

And as he expected, Laura is the first to crack. Ever since she found herself with as much free time as she could ever want, she hasn’t known what to do with herself. Oh, the first few days (a week if he’s being generous) she enjoyed it. She slept in, watched series, went out and so on, but it got old pretty quickly and she started feeling antsy.

He’s working late in his office (the fancy way to call the kitchen until he actually gets himself a real one) when she slips in silently. She makes a show of looking inside the fridge but Peter already knows. Just like when this happened before the fire, though, he lets her be. After a couple of minutes, she sits in front of him with a mug of hot milk that he knows she probably won’t even touch and that Peter himself will end up drinking.

“I don’t know what to do,” she says finally. “I just… don’t know?” She rubs her mouth and then her forehead frustrated. “I used to and now I just… don’t?”

“So what?” Peter replies when it looks like she has run out of things to say.

“I-what?” she stutters bewildered.

“So what if you don’t know what to do?” Peter elaborates. “What’s the problem with that? What’s the rush?”

“I’m already twenty! I should-” she cuts herself before continuing desperately. “I can’t just stay doing nothing!”

Peter understands what she doesn’t say. She has devoted every second of the last two years to make sure the family stays afloat and now that she has nothing threatening to weight her down, she finds herself adrift.

“Then do something,” Peter says simply and she gapes. “You don’t know what to do with the rest of your life? Ok, fine, then decide what to do for the next day, week, month. Whatever you feel most comfortable with. Work, treat yourself, learn to do something new. You said yesterday that you wished you knew how to bake, right? Then find a course and learn. No? That’s no good? Then what else? Knitting? Martial Arts? Languages? If there’s anything that sparks your interest, even if it’s just a vague one, then go for it until you find your own way. And when you find it, you found it.”

“But-”

“Laura, you’ve more than earned the right to be unsure and try your way around. Your parents would have been proud of who you have become.” Peter reaches into his bag and gets a little bag of Skittles out to hand it to her. “I couldn’t be prouder of you.”

Laura laughs and laughs as she catches the bag, then cries and cries, then she laughs again and then cries.

“Sorry,” she hiccups when she finally can get a hold of herself, just like she used to I’m the rare occasions that she cried this hard when she was younger. “I’m a mess.”

“Tell me something new,” Peter answers dryly, also like he used to.

That startles another laugh out of her and she throws a Skittle at him, again like she used to. Peter grabs it before it can impact on his eye (the little shit has always had deadly accuracy and one Skittle to the eye in his lifetime is all that Peter will tolerate) and then eats it. He makes a gagging face right afterwards, because he likes sweets but not the mass produced and just plain sugar kind. She laughs again when he steals her now lukewarm milk.

“You can come in, squirt,” she says after a few seconds, prompting a disgruntled Derek to come in.

Even as kids they had the rule to not intrude when one of them needed Peter, and he has always found that endearing and amusing in equal parts. He doesn’t let it show, of course, even if he shares an entertained look with Laura when Derek’s back is to them.

“You finished the milk,” he grumbles put upon and Peter nearly snickers.

“Here,” he says instead, handing him the mostly untouched mug of milk and Derek nods gratefully.

It looks as if he just came for something warm but he stops before leaving to fidget at the door. “Stiles is looking for a helper,” he finally lets out after a lot of hesitation. For moment Peter is a little confused but then he remembers that Stiles is the nickname one Mieczyslaw Stilinski prefers. The boss that always sends Derek home with a wagon of homemade sweets (that Peter secretly steals part of) because he pays him a ridiculously high extra every month to have him as a taste tester that gives him a brutally honest opinion about his creations. Peter doesn’t want to tell him that it’s most likely because both of Stiles’ parents also died before he was an adult and he wants to help him out. “He loves teaching people and he pays well.”

“I’ll look into it,” Laura answers warmly and the tips of Derek’s ears go red. “Thanks, squirt.”

“Not a squirt,” he grumbles before leaving.

Laura does apply for a job at R&R (one day Peter will actually remember to ask what that stands for) and gets it. She comes back looking mystified and Derek and Cora keep smirking. She keeps coming back happy and relaxed, though, so Peter, who is up to his ears with work, sees no reason to investigate further for now.

Cora seeks him out a week later. Just like she did before the fire, she unceremoniously walks into his office (still the glorified kitchen but hey, coffee and snacks right at hand) and then sits in a corner with the stuffed unicorn that Peter was so fond of. She isn’t crying this time but he knows better than to let that lure him into a false sense of safety.

When she finally turns to face him, her opening is certainly not what he was expecting.

“A boy called me a bitch today because I refused to go out with him,” she states completely serious and Peter is a bit thrown because she doesn’t exactly look affected by it. He waits for the other shoe to drop. “He said that if I had a mom I would be more of a lady… or something along those lines.” Ah. “You may get a call about that, by the way, because I think I broke his nose.”

Peter blinks, then he holds a hand for her to high-five (which does the trick to relax her from her tense posture) and then speaks. “Love, I know she was your mom and you thought her the perfect saint, but… well, no use on sugar coating things. Your mother was the most perfect bitch I’ve ever met and let me tell you, your father downright adored that part of her. In fact, he got all misty eyed and it stunk all around because of it. It was disgusting.”

“Uncle Peter! I don’t want to hear about mom and dad-” she groans revolted and can’t even bring herself finish the sentence. Peter hears Derek and Laura groaning too at the sitting room and he inwardly claps himself in the back.

“Yes, exactly! That was exactly my face,” he continues outwardly unfazed but deeply amused by her reaction. “I didn’t want to hear my sister doing the nasty either.”

Uncle Peter!” they chorus from everywhere.

“Okay, okay. You’re such an overdramatic child…” He sighs as if put upon. “But back to your mother being a bitch and that being a fantastic thing.”

“Yes, please.”

“Your mother nearly broke the pack apart once.”

“What?!”

“What you just heard,” Peter nods. “A bit of back story for you first so you can understand what happened better. Before your mother was made the alpha, the Hales were a very traditional matriarchal family. Children were always had at least in groups of three and power would be always passed to the oldest daughter. If the main family didn’t manage to spawn one, they would lose the right of leadership and it would shift to the line that had the currently oldest daughter. As you can guess, that was the ground of very entertaining familial situations,” he adds dryly.

“Why always at least three?”

“The oldest daughter for the alpha and of the two remaining, the oldest would be the right hand and the youngest the left hand.” At her incredulous look he nods. “Yeah, I know. In your case, Laura would have been the alpha, Derek the right hand and you the left hand.”

“That’s just-”

“I know,” he nods chagrined. “Not only that didn’t let anyone choose what they wanted to be, but it also disregarded that one person may be completely unsuitable for the job.”

“That’s so stupid.”

“Also, to put it bluntly, being the left hand was the worst thing that could happen to anyone. Invariably, they got pushed to the fringes of the pack and had to do all the dirty work behind the scenes and at the same time endure being looked down for it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Exactly,” he agrees. “They had a system where the current holder of each position would teach the next one and in their eyes, that was more than enough. In reality it only served to drive the next generation apart just as much as the current one was.” Peter sighs remembering. “To make a story short, your uncle Daniel was too hot tempered and impulsive to be the right hand, your mother was too self-centred to be the alpha and I was too bitter and drawn to be the left hand by the end of the training period. None of us wanted to be any of those either. Do you know what your grandparents said?” She shakes her head in answer. “That she might be too soft to be the alpha.”

“Mom?!”

“Your mother was many things back then, love, but soft wasn’t one of them. In any case, she did a complete turn over into becoming the perfect daughter and alpha candidate. One neither Daniel nor I liked one bit.” Peter swallows remembering. “And if I didn’t want to become the left hand of the Talia from before, you can bet that I wanted to become that to that Talia even less. By then the rest of the family had caught wind of what was happening and demanded a trial period of a month before she was approved and Talia agreed to it.” Peter remembers that very night clearly even after so much time has gone by. He remembers her sneaking into his room at night and reaching to scent him with a softly whispered trust me, please. “It was one of the worst times I’ve ever had but I endured it and so did Daniel.”

“Why? Wouldn’t it have been better if some one else got the job? None of you wanted it, right?”

“Believe me, if you’d had more contact with your granduncles you wouldn’t be saying that.”

“That bad?”

“Worse,” Peter says plainly. “Needless to say, she became the alpha in the end. But here comes the good stuff. By tradition, she should have chosen Daniel and I right then, but she didn’t. She chose your father instead, the most level headed and calm person I’ve ever met. It couldn’t be a more perfect choice even if she tried.” Peter grins remembering the mayhem. “Then she refused to choose a left hand and your grandmother and your granduncle Joshua very nearly had an apoplexy just then. It was glorious. Your uncle Daniel and your granduncle Estephan couldn’t stop cackling and let me tell you, I never saw him even smile when he was training me.” Peter smiles sadly rememberring the so brilliant and so tired man. “But, wait, it got even better. They all tried to stage a mutiny just then and she roared them into submission with so much ease it was ridiculous. When one of our cousins tried to push it and called her everything under the sun, she punched him and sent him rolling a few feet. Her bitch please face was a thing of beauty and I chose right then to be her left hand.”

“After all her troubles!”

“It was never a matter of capacity in my case love, but of willingness,” he corrects her simply. “But anyways, to wrap this up, your mother chose to be a bitch, to stand for what she believed on and not feel sorry about it. You can bet your ass that she would have high-fived you too today if she could have.”

“Really?”

“Really. But Cora, dear, the left hand still left in me is cringing at the execution. Next time be more subtle and don’t get caught.”

“I knew he’d never admit a girl punched him, though. He’s one of those macho guys.”

“Ok, I’ll admit that then,” Peter hums handing her a Mars bar. She grins happily. “But those types do crumble under the right pressure, you know. One push from their mothers and they’ll sing.”

“True. What do you suggest then?”

Peter does get called because of that punch. He talks his way out of trouble and not only Cora doesn’t get punished, but he gets the boy suspended for a week for harassment, with his own parents fully endorsing the punishment.

(Yes, Peter is that good.)

(He may have inadvertently created a monster, though.)

Unsurprisingly, Derek waits to seek him out until the house is empty because Laura is working and, as if sensing something was up, Cora has made herself scarce. He’s not crying, but he smells miserable, tired and sad. He hovers on the doorway for some time before making his way in. He has Cora’s unicorn clutched tightly between his arms when he finally takes a seat, which proves completely she knew something was up. He keeps silent for so long that, for a moment, Peter is sure this is one of those times when Derek doesn’t actually want to talk and just needs the company.

“If I hadn’t- If I-”

“It would still have happened. She would have tried Cora next and, if that had failed she would have found another way.”

“But it was me. I was so stupid! How could I not notice!”

“Hmm,” Peter hums, outwardly calm in the face of the storm even though he wants to find a way to revive both of those psychos so he can torture them back to death. “So if right now something about a child being abused appeared on the news you’d think them weak? And if it was of a child being raped?”

“I- No!”

“Then what is it that makes you different?”

“I wasn’t a child!”

“Weren’t you? So you think fourteen year olds aren’t children? So if you heard news of a teacher being arrested for having sex or a relationship with a fourteen year old you would think what happened is their fault? For being gullible? Or would you think that the teacher is to blame?”

“I- It’s not- It’s not the same!”

“Why? What makes you different? Being a werewolf? You think being a werewolf changes much hormonally or neurologically speaking?”

“I should have known,” Derek whispers quietly.

“She was really good, Derek, and you weren’t the first she did this to. There were other kids before. Do you think they are to blame?”

Derek doesn’t answer. He just swallows and then cries silently.

Slowly, very slowly, Derek begins to open up. So slowly, in fact, that for a while Peter thinks that he flubbed up with his approach when they talked. But, after a while, he starts noticing little changes here and there and he can finally breathe easier.

Time passes. Despite some hiccups, the kids look healthier, happier and more motivated. Laura loves baking and is talking about enrolling into a school to get a title; Derek has been thinking about studying psychology to become a counsellor; Cora’s grades have shot up and she’s thinking about trying different clubs to see what she likes.

On one rare alone night, Peter gets out a bottle of fine whisky and silently toasts Talia, who in her final moments chose to issue another big fuck you to the stupid Hale traditions and shot the matriarchal system to hell. Then he forces himself to remember both the good and the bad of those gone and then to let go.

At a month to make a year after he woke up, the kids stage an intervention against Peter.

“I didn’t stop working so that you could work yourself to an early grave, uncle Peter,” Laura scolds him frowning. She looks so much like Talia that for a second Peter expects her to take both of her shoes off to practice her accuracy with his head. Since unlike her mother Laura does have a good aim, this could only end badly for him.

“I could up my hours again?” Derek adds softly, which is arguably worse that Laura’s promise of physical violence and Peter inwardly cringes. “I’m sure Stiles would appreciate it? Cake Wars is coming up, after all.”

“Cake Wars?” Peter asks, confused. He now knows the meaning of R&R -Rebel’s Respite, in a homage to Star Wars, but because of copyright reasons he used that acronym in the registration form. Apparently he continuously makes a pun about how by doing that he’s rebelling against the copyright Imperium. Peter hasn’t met the man yet, even after all this time, but he doesn’t really need to to know he’s a complete dork- courtesy of Laura, but this is a term he has never heard before.

“No no no no no,” Laura intervenes hastily before the distraction can work. “No changing the topic.”

“Nice try, though, uncle Peter,” Cora says smirking.

Peter narrows his eyes at her with a clear a don’t you dare sass me, young lady, I taught you everything you know and she smirks even more. Ah damn, he did create a monster, after all.

He sighs resignedly.

Over the next week, Peter reduces his hours drastically. He’s been trying to save enough money to make a good savings account for each of the kids for any emergency or situation that may arise, but he figures that he has managed to put in a good enough amount by now and that he can take it easy for now.

He lets himself be convinced to go to Disneyland the last two weeks of summer vacation. It’s simultaneously one of the worst and the best things he has done in a while.

Cake Wars (again, the name is a bad Star Wars pun, why is Peter not surprised?) is a benefit contest that Stiles organizes every year ever since he opened his shop. Peter learns all about it while Laura pushes him towards the entrance. As they pass by, Peter notices a line that goes around the building and then extends until the street ends. Even the police is there, keeping an eye on the proceedings, and Peter vaguely wonders how Stiles feels about his late dad’s department’s presence.

Whatever he was expecting about the man, it doesn’t even get close to what he actually finds. Lean framed, with tousled brown hair and almond shaped amber eyes, Stiles is a ball of energy that never stops moving. He’s wearing a black chef uniform with an apron with a Darth Baker emblazoned on it. He’s also waving around what Peter knows to be lightsaber salt and sugar shakers and he hasn’t stopped grining even for a second since they got here.

When he spots them, he solemnly passes the lightsabers to a kid that looks scared shitless (Liam, Peter’s mind provides) and then leaves him to the wolves in favour of approaching them.

(Oh, if Peter didn’t like him already because of how much he helps his kids, he would now.)

“Laura! Mrs. Whittemore says she wants to challenge your pistachio panacotta, can you believe that?”

“Whaaaat???” she exclaims before becoming a woman on in a mission and abandoning Peter behind.

“I don’t think Mrs. Whittemore is actually here for the benefit,” he confides in Derek, who just rolls his eyes in unison with Cora, prompting a wider smile from Stiles. “I think she still hasn’t gotten over her crushing defeat last year so she’s trying a weaker” he makes quotation marks with his hands, “opponent. Your sister is gonna eat her alive,” he laughs, prompting another round of snickers out of them.

“Where do you need us, Stiles?” Derek finally asks looking at the chaos around.

“Unless you prefer to go to help Kira and Mason at the counter, go to the back with Erica and Boyd, will you?” Peter spots immediately how his nephew relaxes at not having to face the crowd dead-on. He’s pretty sure that Stiles offered him an out on purpose. “And you, awesome ninja knight,” he says turning towards a preening Cora and nodding towards Liam, “go help the damsel in distress before he gets eaten by the dragons, ok? Oh, and if you spot Scott along the way, try to put a leash on him and get him to the counter again. I swear, he’s like a puppy, he gets distracted with everything and suddenly I don’t even know where he is.”

“I heard that!” someone shouts from behind, prompting a snicker out of Derek and a smirk out of Cora.

“You were supposed to!” Stiles shouts back without even turning. “Don’t think I didn’t see you filching those lemon bars!”

“Lies and slander!”

“You still have the crumbs all over your face, you pig!”

“Oops!” a man eeps as he passes them by in the direction of the counter and Stiles rolls his eyes fondly.

“You must be the elusive Peter Hale,” he greets turning towards him and reaching for a handshake. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Same here,” Peter answers warmly.

“So, I heard that you’re a really good lawyer?”

“Yes?”

“Good, because Laura looks about ten seconds away from murdering Mrs. Whittemore and about just five from castrating her son, and since Mr. Whittemore is the district attorney she’s gonna need a really good one.”

“That’s insulting, you know?” Peter answers very seriously, with both eyebrows sky high. “As if my children would be stupid enough to get caught. I taught them better than that.”

For a moment, Stiles looks surprised. Then his whole face lights up and he grins delighted. “Ohhh, I like you. I hope you know that I’m never letting you go now,” he exclaims happily.

“FYI: the Stiles package includes a very high content of sweets, wit, sarcasm and dorkiness seasoned with a generous amount of clumsinness and nerdery. Also, when he says he’s not letting you go, he means it,” a teen pipes as he passes them and Stiles flips him the finger as the tips of his ears go red.

Peter can’t help himself and laughs, utterly charmed.