and then i had to listen to it again while i was drawing this

Rick Riordan won a Stonewall award today

for his second Magnus Chase book, due to the inclusion of the character Alex Fierro who is gender fluid. This was the speech he gave, and it really distills why I love this author and his works so much, and why I will always recommend his works to anyone and everyone.

“Thank you for inviting me here today. As I told the Stonewall Award Committee, this is an honor both humbling and unexpected.

So, what is an old cis straight white male doing up here? Where did I get the nerve to write Alex Fierro, a transgender, gender fluid child of Loki in The Hammer of Thor, and why should I get cookies for that?

These are all fair and valid questions, which I have been asking myself a lot.

I think, to support young LGBTQ readers, the most important thing publishing can do is to publish and promote more stories by LGBTQ authors, authentic experiences by authentic voices. We have to keep pushing for this. The Stonewall committee’s work is a critical part of that effort. I can only accept the Stonewall Award in the sense that I accept a call to action – firstly, to do more myself to read and promote books by LGBTQ authors.

But also, it’s a call to do better in my own writing. As one of my genderqueer readers told me recently, “Hey, thanks for Alex. You didn’t do a terrible job!” I thought: Yes! Not doing a terrible job was my goal!

As important as it is to offer authentic voices and empower authors and role models from within LGBTQ community, it’s is also important that LGBTQ kids see themselves reflected and valued in the larger world of mass media, including my books. I know this because my non-heteronormative readers tell me so. They actively lobby to see characters like themselves in my books. They like the universe I’ve created. They want to be part of it. They deserve that opportunity. It’s important that I, as a mainstream author, say, “I see you. You matter. Your life experience may not be like mine, but it is no less valid and no less real. I will do whatever I can to understand and accurately include you in my stories, in my world. I will not erase you.”

People all over the political spectrum often ask me, “Why can’t you just stay silent on these issues? Just don’t include LGBTQ material and everybody will be happy.” This assumes that silence is the natural neutral position. But silence is not neutral. It’s an active choice. Silence is great when you are listening. Silence is not so great when you are using it to ignore or exclude.

But that’s all macro, ‘big picture’ stuff. Yes, I think the principles are important. Yes, in the abstract, I feel an obligation to write the world as I see it: beautiful because of its variations. Where I can’t draw on personal experience, I listen, I read a lot – in particular I want to credit Beyond Magenta and Gender Outlaws for helping me understand more about the perspective of my character Alex Fierro – and I trust that much of the human experience is universal. You can’t go too far wrong if you use empathy as your lens. But the reason I wrote Alex Fierro, or Nico di Angelo, or any of my characters, is much more personal.

I was a teacher for many years, in public and private school, California and Texas. During those years, I taught all kinds of kids. I want them all to know that I see them. They matter. I write characters to honor my students, and to make up for what I wished I could have done for them in the classroom.

I think about my former student Adrian (a pseudonym), back in the 90s in San Francisco. Adrian used the pronouns he and him, so I will call him that, but I suspect Adrian might have had more freedom and more options as to how he self-identified in school were he growing up today. His peers, his teachers, his family all understood that Adrian was female, despite his birth designation. Since kindergarten, he had self-selected to be among the girls – socially, athletically, academically. He was one of our girls. And although he got support and acceptance at the school, I don’t know that I helped him as much as I could, or that I tried to understand his needs and his journey. At that time in my life, I didn’t have the experience, the vocabulary, or frankly the emotional capacity to have that conversation. When we broke into social skills groups, for instance, boys apart from girls, he came into my group with the boys, I think because he felt it was required, but I feel like I missed the opportunity to sit with him and ask him what he wanted. And to assure him it was okay, whichever choice he made. I learned more from Adrian than I taught him. Twenty years later, Alex Fierro is for Adrian.

I think about Jane (pseudonym), another one of my students who was a straight cis-female with two fantastic moms. Again, for LGBTQ families, San Francisco was a pretty good place to live in the 90s, but as we know, prejudice has no geographical border. You cannot build a wall high enough to keep it out. I know Jane got flack about her family. I did what I could to support her, but I don’t think I did enough. I remember the day Jane’s drama class was happening in my classroom. The teacher was new – our first African American male teacher, which we were all really excited about – and this was only his third week. I was sitting at my desk, grading papers, while the teacher did a free association exercise. One of his examples was ‘fruit – gay.’ I think he did it because he thought it would be funny to middle schoolers. After the class, I asked to see the teacher one on one. I asked him to be aware of what he was saying and how that might be hurtful. I know. Me, a white guy, lecturing this Black teacher about hurtful words. He got defensive and quit, because he said he could not promise to not use that language again. At the time, I felt like I needed to do something, to stand up especially for Jane and her family. But did I make things better handling it as I did? I think I missed an opportunity to open a dialogue about how different people experience hurtful labels. Emmie and Josephine and their daughter Georgina, the family I introduce in The Dark Prophecy, are for Jane.

I think about Amy, and Mark, and Nicholas … All former students who have come out as gay since I taught them in middle school. All have gone on to have successful careers and happy families. When I taught them, I knew they were different. Their struggles were greater, their perspectives more divergent than some of my other students. I tried to provide a safe space for them, to model respect, but in retrospect I don’t think I supported them as well as I could have, or reached out as much as they might have needed. I was too busy preparing lessons on Shakespeare or adjectives, and not focusing enough on my students’ emotional health. Adjectives were a lot easier for me to reconcile than feelings. Would they have felt comfortable coming out earlier than college or high school if they had found more support in middle school? Would they have wanted to? I don’t know. But I don’t think they felt it was a safe option, which leaves me thinking that I did not do enough for them at that critical middle school time. I do not want any kid to feel alone, invisible, misunderstood. Nico di Angelo is for Amy, and Mark and Nicholas.

I am trying to do more. Percy Jackson started as a way to empower kids, in particular my son, who had learning differences. As my platform grew, I felt obliged to use it to empower all kids who are struggling through middle school for whatever reason. I don’t always do enough. I don’t always get it right. Good intentions are wonderful things, but at the end of a manuscript, the text has to stand on its own. What I meant ceases to matter. Kids just see what I wrote. But I have to keep trying. My kids are counting on me.

So thank you, above all, to my former students who taught me. Alex Fierro is for you.

To you, I pledge myself to do better – to apologize when I screw up, to learn from my mistakes, to be there for LGBTQ youth and make sure they know that in my books, they are included. They matter. I am going to stop talking now, but I promise you I won’t stop listening.”

“hello,” the dark lord said, “i need a library card.”

“everyone needs a library card,” the librarian said brightly, sliding a form across the desk. “fill this out.”

the dark lord produced her own elaborately plumed quill from the depths of her robes and scrawled her name in handwriting that was completely illegible but seemed to whisper the secrets of the dark from the blinding white page. “yes, but i need mine in order to take over the tri-kingdom area.”

the librarian’s polite smile barely faltered. “funny, the last dark lord to try that didn’t bother with a card.”

“yes, and do you see that fool currently ruling our kingdom? no. of course not. utterly ridiculous, to attempt to take over any size country without a library card, much less an intermediate-sized one like this.” she accepted the thin plastic card with a gracious flourish of her gloved hand.

the librarian, adding the new card’s number to the database, privately agreed, but chose not to say anything.


the librarian balanced the pile of pulled books under one elbow and held the list of call numbers in their hand for easy consultation. “intermediate spell casting for grades three and four,” they murmured, running fingers along the peeling spines until they found it. “willing to bet that’s sorrel’s request.”

they fit the large, paperbound book under their elbow and moved on, checking the list again. “magical creatures encyclopedia, L through M. that’s jackaby trying to finish the entire set by midsummer.” they would get that one last to carry it around the shortest amount of time.

“next — the complete guide to raising the dead.” they paused in front of the row of shelves with the right call numbers. they could guess the requester of that one too, but knew better than to say it out loud.


the return slot thunked loudly as it swung open and closed, having swallowed the returned books with a wet gulp.

“good morning,” the dark lord said pleasantly as she looked up from sliding her books in — or as pleasantly as “good morning” could sound when it was uttered by a voice that sounded like gravel being chewed to pieces by the jaws of a large monster.

“it is, very,” the librarian said crisply, conjuring a clean handkerchief for the still-slobbering return slot.

the mouth just visible under the dark lord’s enormous cloak hood curved into a scythe’s blade smile, but she said nothing else.

“did you enjoy your books?” the librarian asked, since she wasn’t moving and there were no other people waiting (most likely because of the dark lord standing there).

the hood nodded up and down. “extremely. especially the taped lecture by doctor dramidius ardorius of the dark arts institute.”

“well, we have many more taped lectures. i especially recommend the one on the healing powers of tea.” they tilted their head in a now get out sign. the poor steam-powered self-checkout contraption would get overheated if people were too scared to check out at the front desk.

they didn’t really expect the dark lord to take the recommendation seriously, but the next day they noticed the cloaked, hooded specter glide out the door with the taped lecture on magic-infused herbal teas tucked between a CD of dark chants and a step-by-step art book on drawing occult symbols.


“you give good recommendations,” the dark lord said with a shrug when the librarian raised their eyes from the front desk’s computer to the shadows of her hood.

the librarian wasn’t sure what to say. “you seem to take up quite a lot of my time.”

“i’m only a simple library patron,” the dark lord replied in a saintly voice that resembled a dragon coughing up a partially digested house. “do you enjoy mermaid song?”

“yes. you can find the library’s collection in the CD section over there.” they looked pointedly back down at the computer.

“i hear there’s a concert on the shore tomorrow evening.”

“perhaps we’ll get a recording of it.”


the dark lord continued taking out books on various unsavory topics. the librarian continued suggesting books on healing, positive thinking, and community service. the dark lord seemed more amused with each visit. her smile was almost charming, once you got past the long, sharp teeth.


the librarian was trying to go about their usual morning ritual of pulling books that had been requested the night before, but the dark lord wouldn’t stop making faces at them from behind gaps in the shelves. she seemed to find it hilarious. the librarian hadn’t decided yet if they were amused or annoyed.

“ooh, look at this,” the dark lord said, pulling a sturdy but beaten up board book featuring a werewolf mid-transformation on the cover from the shelf. “this was my favorite when i was just a little menace.”

“somehow i’m not surprised.”

the dark lord tucked the book into the ridiculous basket made of a large skull that floated alongside her. “didn’t you have a favorite picture book when you were little?”

“Barker the Sentient Book End,” the librarian said promptly. “i screamed for it every night until someone read it to me, long after i’d already memorized each page.”

the dark lord cooed, sounding like a cross between an owl and something eating an owl. “adorable. i knew you had a little monster in you somewhere.”

the librarian crossly debated denying being a monster at all or pointing out they had actual kraken blood in them.


they should have guessed how close the dark lord was from how good her mood was, but it wasn’t until they arrived at work on monday that the librarian heard the news.

“the newest dark lord managed to overthrow the faeyrie monarchy last night. something about combining traditional herbal spells with a newfangled mental magic based on the power of willful thinking… or something. the news reporter mentioned the use of mermaid song in a mild kind of mind control, i think? i wasn’t listening. the good news is, our budget stays in place.”

the librarian contemplated hurling the can of bookmarks across the room, but concluded that it would be both unprofessional and unsatisfying. they settled for aggressively stamping returned, only slightly saliva-covered books with red ink.


the phone clicked loudly. “public library, how can i help you?”

“by taking my offer,” the dark lord said, slightly hesitant voice like a rock slide that wasn’t sure it was ready to slide. “the royal library in the capital needs a new head librarian.”

“why’s that?” the librarian spun in their new swivel chair, tangling the phone cord while they were at it, thinking they wouldn’t want to leave so soon after getting it.

there was a cough like the ocean spitting out a new island. “erm, hmm, last one got… eaten. tragic. these things happen when you’re very, very small, you know.”

“so i’ve heard.” the librarian stretched the phone cord and watched it bounce back. “well, i’m happy where i am.”

“well.” her voice was more disappointed than they’d expected. “it’s a very nice library, you know. large selection of mermaid song in the CD section.”

“the royal library is part of our system. i can request any materials from there that i want to be delivered here.”

a pause. the dark lord had not considered this. “well, maybe i’ll take the royal library out of the system.”

“you wouldn’t dare disrupt the workings of our very intricate library system set up at the dawn of time.”

“maybe i would!”

“no.”

“fine. i wouldn’t.”

the librarian swiveled some more, wrapping the cord around with them until it ran out of give and spun them in the other direction. “would you like to grab a coffee sometime?”

“yes,” the dark lord said, voice too surprised to resemble anything in particular. “i can travel down meet you tomorrow morning.”

“don’t you have things to do?”

they could sense the shrug from the other end of the line. “i’ll move the capital to your town. i can do that, you know. i’m the supreme ruler of the tri-kingdom area.”

“yes,” the librarian agreed, un-spinning to return the phone to its cradle. “just don’t forget who gave you the library card.”

4

I did it again. Sigh. Can’t stop drawing him. ;u;

I’ve got a pretty cool AU/ Theory for Anti that goes along with this piece! Very proud of both, haha. Basically (and very shortly told); In my AU Jack is hallucinating himself being controlled by something and uses the ‘Anti’ persona as an excuse, to kind of blame someone for what bad stuff his mind is coming up with. Murder and all. At some point, I imagined what his head/ his dreams would look like in that scenario and - tada! This is what happened. :D

Obviously the theory is just a little plot idea I had. I know Jack is not actually a lunatic who goes on murder sprees, oml. I was just like; what if he really doesn’t want to believe that he could potentially become a murderer? Or maybe doesn’t want to believe that he already is one? And THEN blames a non existent character for the bad stuff he does? Craziness, haha! Gotta love them psycho-thrillers, amirite?

The theory isn’t meant to offend Jack or anyone else in any way! I hope you like it, though. I might draw some more stuff about it in the future. C:

Thanks to @therealjacksepticeye and @pixlpit for sTILL MOTIVATING AND INSPIRING ME SO MUCH URGH! I can’t wait for the amazing stuff those two will come up with in the following months! :D

Now I will go and get me a salad. A nice salad and some ice coffee. Nom.

Note; please don’t repost/ reupload my art! C:

Also, I suggest y’all go listen to ‘MISSIO’! Amazing musicians, way too underrated! I listened to them a lot while drawing this and bOI it is good!

The 7 Elements of a SCENE

There are few things as soul-crushing in the writing process (at least to me) than getting a bunch of characters in a room with the intention of something happening, then the characters proceed to stand around and stare at each other.  

Or worse, look at you like this. 

My characters didn’t know why they were there. I didn’t know why they were there either. I had no clue what they were supposed to be doing, so I’d start throwing random instructions at them: “Fight, characters! You guys should fight now! Maybe fighting will make this event have a purpose!” Which inevitably resulted in characters going through the motions of battle for no apparent reason, like they had all lost their minds.

What was the problem? I didn’t know how to write a scene. I didn’t know what a scene was. I had a vague definition that it was something about changing scenery, or just “something happening”.

It’s not. And once I learned what a scene was, my characters got to stop pummeling each other, while wishing they could pummel me. 

So what is a scene? 

The definition of a scene is kind of like the definition of a story. Story is change, a massive change in the life of your main character. A scene is change too, but much smaller, and part of that huge story change. You couldn’t have the BIG change without these tiny changes. Thus, a scene is not switching scenery. It’s not flipping to a new Character’s POV. It’s one segment of change, which triggers the next change, which triggers the next, which gradually build into sequences, which build into Acts, which build into story. 

So what goes into a scene? How does it work?

1. Alternating Charges

If a scene opens positive, it will turn negative by the end. If it opens negative, it will end positive. Simple. 

2. Character Goals

Everybody in a scene wants something. If they don’t want anything, they shouldn’t be in the scene. And these characters, with their often opposing goals, are going to employ different tactics on each other to get what they want. Which creates …

3. Escalating Conflict

Conflict is created when one character wants one thing and another wants something else, right? So the characters in the scene are each pushing for something different, each new tactic increasing in determination. And what are these actions called?  

4. Beats

The beats of a scene are exchanges of action and reaction. One character does something, another character reacts. All exchanges (beats) are pushing the scene onward, building tension and conflict, until finally …

5. Turns & Revelations

The scene turns. The positive has changed to negative. Something has been discovered. The story has spun in a new direction.

6. Connection to Story Objective

Every scene must be connected to the BIG goal of the story, the main character is taking small actions to reach that big goal. If it isn’t obviously connected to this big plot, it won’t make sense. Your reader won’t know why the heck they’re reading the scene. Which brings us to … 

7. Logic & Necessity  

Every scene must be necessary. It must be able to be linked with the previous scene. “Because that happened in the previous scene, THIS must happen in this scene.”

So! To see how that all works, let’s break down a scene from Tangled. (Because I used it in the last post to map out how a premise works, and my little writer heart can’t resist symmetry.)

Which scene? The one right after this happens: 

Opening Charge: Positive. She’s realized everything. 

Rapunzel’s Goal: Rise up against her mother – finally. 

Gothel’s Goal: Regain control.

Escalating Conflict: They’re fighting over who controls Rapunzel, and this battle causes them to go from “mother and daughter” to “enemies”. The conflict builds nicely in this scene, causing the story turn.

Connection to Story Objective: Throughout the movie, the big thing Rapunzel wants is freedom, she wants her life to begin, she wants to have a new dream. This is the moment she figures out how to do that; it’s not escaping the tower, it’s escaping Gothel’s control over her.

So! Here’s the scene.

Beat 1

“Rapunzel? Rapunzel, what’s going on up there?”

Ignores her. Still processing the tremendous implications of this revelation. 

Beat 2

“Are you alright?" 

"I’m the lost princess.” (Dumbfounded. Almost whispering it to herself.)


Beat 3

“Oh, please speak up Rapunzel! You know how I hate the mumbling.” (Bullying.)

“I am the lost princess! Aren’t I?” (Fighting back. She will not be bullied anymore.)

Beat 4

Gothel stares, stunned. She’s rendered temporarily speechless, because her secret’s been revealed finally, and her victim is actually fighting against her.


“Did I mumble, Mother? Or should I even call you that?” (Accusing. Drawing herself up taller. Looking down on Gothel and glaring. She’s seeing her clearly for the first time in her life.)

Beat 5

After a pause, thinking up a tactic. “Oh, Rapunzel, do you even hear yourself? How could you ask such a ridiculous question?” (Laughs. Ridicules. Attempts to make her feel childish, dumb, worthy of being mocked. Tactics which have always worked. She even begins to hug her.)


Rapunzel pushes her. “It was you! It was all you!” (Still accusing and angry, but pain is beginning to show. It’s almost like she’s giving her a chance to explain herself.)


Beat 6

“Everything I did was to protect you.” (And Gothel doesn’t say anything redeeming. She’s holier than thou, regal, bestowing kindness on an ungrateful, stupid child. Trying to control through guilt.)

Rapunzel rams her out of the way. 

Beat 7

“Rapunzel!” (Shouting. Now trying anger.)

“I’ve spent my entire life hiding from people who would use me for my power …” (Leaves her.)

Beat 8

"Rapunzel!” (Still trying the anger angle.)

“But I should have been hiding from you.” (Throwing the truth at her.)

Beat 9

“Where will you go? He won’t be there for you.” (She’s tried everything else. It’s time to attack her heart.)

“What did you do to him?” (Fear)

Beat 10

“That criminal is to be hanged for his crimes.” (She’s keeping up the disapproving mother act, but striking her right where it will hurt her most.)

“No.” (She’s stopped. Shrinking in on herself. Staring, horrified. And Gothel thinks she’s won.)

Beat 11

“Now, now.  It’s alright. Listen to me. All of this is as it should be.” She goes to pat Rapunzel’s head, a gesture symbolic of her superiority, her physical, mental, and emotional control over her victim.


Rapunzel grabs Gothel’s wrist. “No! You were wrong about the world. And you were wrong about me! And I will never let you use my hair again!" 

Beat 12

Gothel wrenches free, stumbling backwards in shock and anger, breaking the mirror in the process. 

Rapunzel walks away. She’s escaped Gothel emotionally now.

Beat 13

"You want me to be the bad guy? Fine. Now I’m the bad guy.” (Well, now emotional control is over. It’s time to start stabbing Rapunzel’s boyfriend.)

This action has no reaction, interestingly. It leaves us hanging, a cliffhanger created with only beats. 

Closing Charge: Negative. She’s now a full-fledged villain, the motherly persona shed, and she’s determined to get what she wants whatever the cost. 

Turn: It changed from positive to negative,  and now we’ve got a Flynn-stabbing witch to deal with.  

Revelation: She’s always been evil. She has always been the bad guy. The motherly act was just that, an act. 

Logic & Necessity: This scene fits with the previous scene, and the one that follows.     

Though I’ve seen these concepts in many books, the place I first learned about it (and the best resource for scene design in my opinion) is the book Story by Robert McKee. It’s helped me countless times, is one of my favorite books on storytelling, and I highly recommend it if you write anything.

I realize that these definitions were a little vague, so I’ll be explaining things more thoroughly in subsequent posts. 

why lance (probably) won’t be the red paladin, and also why keith (probably) won’t be the black paladin

alright, so, chances are you’ve watched and rewatched the season three trailer multiple times. or, at least, i have. in it, we see lance in both the blue lion and the red lion, and we also see keith in the black lion. 

Keep reading

a friend like mine

 Summary: A discussion about a break up leads to….interesting revelations. || Sebastian x Reader || part 1 of 2

Warnings: discussion of kinks, [in the second part] —> smut and all that entails, thigh riding, choking, some other stuff but i’ll put it in the warnings for the next one

Note: :))))

Originally posted by buckynsebimagines

Keep reading

→ nudes, not flowers | 01

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

☆ pairing → Hoseok x reader x Jungkook

☆ genre → smut || fuckboi!au

warnings  public sex, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism, dirty talk, dom!junghope, demeaning names during sex if you aren’t into that, jealousy

☆ word count → 5.5k

You’re not supposed to fall for Jung Hoseok and his repertoire of awful pick-up lines—but you do. The problem is: he’s afraid of commitment, and bolts at the idea of settling down. After that, you decide to stay far away from fuckboys, but his friend decides to test your new found resolutions.

or : Jungkook wants to see how far he can push Hoseok until he snaps 

 ↣  01 | 02

a/n; …. why tf did i do this to myself!!! (this is just smut that i had to split into two parts rip)
anyways tagging @kstopping @gxtsmxt @thotmi bc nothing says i love you like a junghope smut am i right



Keep reading

Obsession - Peter Parker x reader

Summary: You are Tony Stark’s daughter/son who is tasked to designs Peter’s costume, but you get obsessed with completing the task.

Word count: 664

Warnings: None

(NOT MY GIF)


You sat down in your seat as Vision left the room through the wall. When will he learn to use the door?

It was your task to create the costume for your dad’s newest pupil, Peter Parker.

You’ve never seen the guy, but you wanted to make sure to surprise him with his new suit. The old one was some homemade costume Peter pieced together, in the words of your dad.

Three weeks into work and your room was covered with sketches of Peter’s new costume.

It wasn’t a task anymore, it was an obsession.

Keep reading

Leather Jackets - Bucky Barnes AU

Request: “Can you make a Bucky imagine in which he’s like the bad boy who is really cool and falls for y/n and is super sweet around her?” // I did it as a Greaser AU because I was listening to the Grease soundtrack while writing lol

Word Count: 1167 // My requests are still open!!


The Greasers didn’t like to be messed with. If you’re not at their level, you can’t speak to them. You go near them, you’re dead.

Pacing quickly down the sidewalk, you avoided the glare of the boys in the red Chevrolet parked across the street. A message alert on your phone made you stop, pulling your phone out of your pocket.

Steve: Just overheard that the Greasers are gonna be at the coffee shop. Be careful.

Mentally groaning in fear of anyone hearing you, you slipped into the door of the cafe, walking with your head down.

“Hi, uh, Miss? What would you like?” The barista grinned at you, as you looked up from your phone. “Sorry, can I just have a juice please?”

“What’s your name?” She asked, holding your cup in one hand and a sharpie in the other. “Y/N.” You pronounced, smiling back.

Soon enough, your name was called and you took your drink, walking out of the store.

You looked around before pushing the door open, seeing the Chevrolet had moved. Breathing a sigh of relief, you pushed the door open and began your walk home.

Going to grab your phone from your back pocket, you bumped into someone.

Feeling a hand on your back, you looked up, making direct eye contact with one of the leaders of the greaser gang, Bucky Barnes.

“I am so sorry, I really wasn’t concentrating. I should look where I’m going, sorr-” You mumbled, rambling away, “Hey, don’t worry about it. Y/N, is it?” He smiled warmly at you, “Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

“We have English together, right?” He asked, trying to making eye contact as you looked everywhere but his into his eyes.

“That we do,” you laughed nervously, “See you Monday, I guess.”

“See you Monday, Y/N.” He smiled, brushing past you as you walked back home, texting Steve about your ‘incident’.

Soon enough, Monday rolled around.

School always dragged along on a Monday. Whether it be the non existent enthusiasm from the students, or the bore of lessons from teachers paid less than they’re owed.

Grabbing your bag and heading out of the classroom, you avoided the glare of the same boys from the coffee shop stood outside your classroom.

You felt their eyes leave as you trailed outside to try and find your friends, Steve and Peggy.

Walking past the bleachers, you felt all eyes on you as hands gripped your shoulders.

“If it isn’t Little Miss Y/N.” You span around to be met with the eyes of one of Bucky’s gang, another member of the Greasers.

“H-hi?” You questioned, looking away from where he stared deeply at you, backed by two more Greasers; the rest sat on the bleachers.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. May I ask why this pretty little mouth of yours was talking to Barnes outside the coffee shop last night?” You looked up, horrified that anyone had seen yours and Bucky’s conversation.

“I-I didn’t mean anything by it! I bumped into hi-” He pressed a finger over your lips, his minions trailing behind you, as he whistled for more of them to come over.

You were surrounded. You’d seen this happen before, and you prayed every night that they would never do it to you.

Grabbing your bag roughly off your shoulders, you gasped as they pulled your books out one by one, until they reached your sketchbook.

“Well what do we have here? A sketchbook! Let’s have a looky here shall we?” He smirked, picking up the black book from your feet.

Flipping through your doodles and practices, you prayed they wouldn’t find your illustration of the picture Bucky had posted recently.

But they did. Just your luck.

“And it gets better! How 'bout we show this to Buck when he gets here, hey? Is that what you want, Y/N? Attention? Well, sweetheart, that’s what you’re gonna get.”

Tears began to spill down your cheeks as he cascaded the sketchbook to the ground once again, the pencil drawing looking like a watercolour.

“Now, Y/N. How 'bouts we deal with you.” He spat, getting closer to your face. Grinning, he grabbed your hair and pulled your face up to meet his eyes.

Taking a harsh slap to the face, you looked into his eyes as he laughed, “Fuck. You.” you spat.

“What was that, Y/N? Say that again.” He looked shocked, but hid it. “I said fuck you.” He looked at you again, “You’re gonna regret that Y/N.”

Taking another hit, you saw the blood hit the concrete on the other side of the book.

“Hey!” A loud voice echoed from outside their circle, as the rest of the group scattered, you sank to the floor.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” Bucky asked the boy stood opposite you, as you let more tears flow. “You know what, I don’t wanna hear it. Back off.”

Bucky kneeled in front of you, smiling softly. “Y/N?”

“Y-yeah?” You held your nose in fear of it bleeding further.

“I’m so sorry the did that to you, I promise I would never have let them if I would’ve known. Are you alright?”

“Apart from nursing a headache and this nose bleed, I’ll be okay.” You smiled back up at him, his eyes glistening as he looked at you. “Shit, you need to get to the nurse.” He looked around you at the destruction of your bag, trying to pick up your scattered books.

“Did you draw this?” He asked, awe taking over his features. “Um, yes, I did. I’m sorry, it’s lame. I just saw the picture on my feed and I needed prac-”

“Y/N, babe, this is incredible.” He grinned from ear to ear, holding the book so delicately. “T-thank you, Bucky. It means a lot.” He slung your bag over his shoulder, offering you a hand as he led you to the nurses office.

“I’m still so sorry, Y/N. Can I please take you for coffee or something to make up for it?” He asked, brushing your hair behind your ear as you held tissue to your nose.

“I don’t drink coffee, but I’m definitely always down for pizza.” You laughed, Bucky joining you. “Well, pizza it is. Are you free tonight?”

- 6 months later -

Finishing the final sentence of your last-minute homework, you shoved the books into your bag as a knock at the door snapped you out of the world of your science work.

Opening the door with a smile, you saw Bucky, donned in his leather jacket and all black outfit.

“Mornin’ baby.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips as you grinned into it. “Good morning, Bucky.”

“Did you sleep okay?” He asked, interlocking his fingers with yours. “I’d sleep better if my boyfriend wouldn’t keep messaging me every five minutes!”

“Well forgive me for caring about you!” He laughed, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“You know I love you really.” You nudged him slightly as he grinned. “I love you too, doll.”

FOOL4U

Jughead x Reader

Wordcount: 1,635

A/N: Leave me requests in my DM’s 

Summery: Jughead and y/n get caught up in a heated moment by the lake

Y/N POV -

The heat radiated off my skin as I stepped out of the water onto the riverbank. There was a warm subtle breeze hitting my face as I join the others sat on a large rock, beer cans and food around us. The gang had decided to start off the new term at school on a high note so we all met up by the river for the day and had a couple of drinks. The group consisted of Archie, Betty, Kevin, Veronica, Jughead and myself.

We all sat round on the rock sharing laughs and making plans for our future summer together. Although some moments weren’t as perfect as others due to there still being tension between some members of the group. There was an ominous feeling about the day as we’d all pushed aside the Jason Blossom case to free our minds of the stress for one weekend.

I sigh and take in a deep breath of fresh air, feeling cold, refreshing water droplets spin down my back from my wet hair. I run my fingers through it to untangle the knots that had appeared. I look to my left to see Jughead awkwardly looking around unsure of what to do with himself. A look of slight discomfort contorted onto his features.

“You okay Juggie?” I ask him quietly not wanting to draw the attention of others. He just looks at me and shrugs, a solemn look about him.

“You gonna strip those clothes off for us Juggie” Veronica cheekily flirted towards the only one still fully dressed at the time. Jughead just scoffed and looked away biting back  “Are you gonna learn to keep your clothes on Veronica?” gaining awkward hisses and coughs from the others.

“That’s a little harsh isn’t Jug, considering it’s still basically summer, are you not planning on getting in the water with the rest of us later on then?” I ask him discreetly smirking his way.

“If it gets too hot then sure i’ll come in, but it’s not necessary for me to sit here half naked and be even more uncomfortable” he passive aggressively comments throwing his arms into the air.

We all just let out breathy laughs and go back to coordinating normal conversation. Not that any of us could really have a normal conversation as our minds had been constantly filled with the conspiracies towards Jason’s death.

“So Archie, how’s your music coming along?” Betty questions the red headed boy sat opposite us. “Yeah it’s good, I’m just really trying to throw myself into writing really, right enough of this sitting around, who wants to get in the water with me?” Archie suggests standing up, Betty, V and Kevin all stand up and follow Archie into the water, all smiles and laughs. I really did love my friends.

“You don’t have to sit here with me because you feel sorry for me you know?” Jughead suddenly snaps looking towards me. “I’m not staying with you because I feel sorry for you, I’m staying here because I enjoy your company dumb ass” I laugh and playfully shove the raven haired boy. He chuckles and grabs my hands to stop me from pushing him. Goose bumps travel up my arms as his hands come into contact with mine. I lean in towards him and let myself collapse in his lap, my head looking up at him, while our hands were still intertwined he fiddled with my fingers.

“I love the way you act around me, you’re just more free” I say looking up at his beautiful face. His green eyes catch mine and he smiles, Not something many people got to see very often, but I had always had the ability to bring it onto his face.

“Well that’s because I’m comfortable with you, I don’t have to pretend to like you it just comes naturally” there was a few minutes silence after his confession, where we just sat enjoying each others company listening to the sounds of our surroundings. You could hear the water splashing and our friends laughs were heard over the buzzing of the nature. It was a truly breathtaking moment in time.

“Do you think we should tell them?” I ask him quietly not wanting to spoil the atmosphere.

“Tell them what?” He replies dumbly knowing exactly what i was talking about, just then he let go of one of my hands and brushed it through my hair, making loops around his fingers with the locks.

“About us” I retort flatly, not taking his sarcasm to heart.

“meh, why do they need to know right now, I don’t care just as long as you’re happy, but not everyone has to know our business, let them just sit and ship us for a while longer” he breaths out.

“yeah it is kinda fun watching them freak out over the little things isn’t it” I giggle and look down at our still intertwined hands. Jug just smiles and nods down at me.

“Right” I sigh standing up and pulling him with me, “take your clothes off we’re going for a swim” He groans in distaste pulling a face but still he shrugs his shirt over his head, kicking off his shoes. I couldn’t help but stare at his body as he removed the layers of clothes. His slightly indented stomach sort of gleamed as the sun hit his skin. He was perfect to me, not completely ripped like Archie, he had a slightly toned lanky figure which suited him well. Once he was ready I lightly pushed him back yelling over my shoulder.

“Race you to the water” I giggle running ahead. It didn’t take long for him to catch up and we joined the others in the water.

“well look who decided to show up” V commented splashing water up at me. I let out a small screech as the cold water splashed up at my body, I just laughed and splashed her back. Bad move. We had started a splashing war between the group, everyone screaming and laughing kicked and thrashing in the water to get everyone wet.

Even Jughead joined in and genuinely looked happy, something that goes a long way in my eyes, I loved to see him happy and smiling, a nice difference from his usual grumpy disposition.

We all carried on messing around in the water for a matter of time, when Betty suggested taking a swim around the lake, Her and Archie swam off and Veronica and Kevin were heavily enthused in competing on ‘who can do the better handstand’

“You wanna take a walk?” Jughead nudges me, his arm comes up to my waist and he tugs me towards the river bank again. I ring out the water from my hair as we walk towards the rock where his clothes were. He just shimmies on his jeans and hands me his flannel shirt, I look up at him and smile, putting the flannel on over my body.

We walk through the forest into a more secluded area, talking about nothing in general. I stop to look at the scenery before us. You could still see the lake peaking through the trees, and sunlight streaking through the gaps of branches. Jughead pulls me towards him by my waist and presses his lips against mine briefly. he pushes his forehead onto mine and breathes out “Beautiful” raising a hand to my face he strokes my cheek, his rough thumb stroking over my bottom lip, I look up into his eyes and notice the contentment in them.

He leans down pressing his lips to mine again, harder than before, his grip around my waist subconsciously tightens. My arms sling around his neck, one hand coming into contact with his face the other falling to the back of his head grasping the wavy raven locks in between my dainty fingers.

He slowly starts to walk me backwards not breaking the kiss until my back hits a tree. Both of his hands now resided on my waist tugging at the shirt he had so graciously handed to me. Our lips moved roughly against each others, both of us pouring our passion into the other person. My hands slipped down from his neck and rested on his smooth chest. Jughead pressed himself closer against me our chests now flush together. I could feel the rough bark from the tree behind me digging into my back. Giving me a slight sensation while our lips were meshed together.

I captured his bottom lip in between my teeth and lightly sucked on it before returning my lips to his. His hands slid round my waist to my lower back where he pulls me closer into his, if that’s even possible. The closeness between us right now was why we enjoyed being with one another, the raw connection we both felt never hesitated to send shivers down my spine.

“Woah! what’s going on here then guys” We hear the smug comment from Veronica, causing us to pull away from each other in shock. she just laughs and shakes her head. “I knew something was going on between you two” and walks away yelling to the others that she had some “big news”

“Well i guess the cats out of the bag then” Jug smiled and looked down at me, still holding onto my waist.

“Do you want me to go and tell her not to say anything?” I enquire looking up to him shyly, not really caring we were caught.

“Nah, let them all see I’m a fool for you” he replies pressing his forehead to mine smiling down at me. I just smile and lean up to press my lips to his once more. This really couldn’t have been a more perfect day.

Laundry Room (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader 
Genre: Smut. 
Word count: 3.1k 

Part one: Kitchen Counter. Part three: The Club.

Summary: He was about to dive back in for your mouth, but you successfully held his jaw so he couldn’t move in any further, leaving your lips only inches apart. “Your sister’s down the hall.” You whispered against his mouth. He groaned in disapproval of you trying to reject him before speaking again, “She’s not gonna come in here.” 


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one more time (m)

genre: fuckboy au + smut

words: 5.5k

member: jimin 

you can’t resist jimin, even if he is a fuckboy.

Originally posted by 9taefox


You woke up to the sound of your ringtone blaring into your ear. You huffed, screwing your eyes shut and hoping it would stop; it didn’t. Reaching out, you grabbed your phone and squinted at the bright screen, your eyes needing time to adjust.

Jimin.

You sighed through your nostrils, closing your eyes and ignoring the impending headache that you could already feel starting in your temples. You debated not answering, and the call ended. You nearly let a smile form on your lips, but your phone began to vibrate in your hand again, Jimin’s name popping up once again as the sound of your ringtone kept you from sleeping.

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I’m going to present to you a theory that’s probably already been theorized, but with more evidence from s2: Earth is already being controlled by the Galra through the Garrison.

We know that aliens already know about Earth’s culture from the Space Mall episode. I mean, aliens quite literally abducted our cows… and had an Area 51 hat. And had video games. In a mall owned by the Galra. Look, I don’t know how alien economics works, but they have to have some type of fascination with Earth to be able to have a shop for it and aliens would actually have to know what all of those items were for said shop to be successful. Imagine an alien Earth fan club. That’s what this is.

And that brings me to Keith’s flashbacks, once in a nightmare…

and once while he was trying to the awaken the Blade of Marmora, where he was in his shack in Earth. 

In both, Keith is placed in a situation where he’s around marching Galra. In some shape or form, Keith witnessed a Galra invasion. I don’t think that that’s going to be the last time we see that image at all. It’s obviously related to Keith’s past, but the Voltron team decided to draw this scene into two different settings: one purely related to the Galra and one set in Earth. Keith has probably already witnessed an alien genocide and is probably about to witness one again. 

I mean, think about it. If you were Haggar or Prince Lotor or whoever, how would you keep Voltron from running if they’re all humans? How would you set the perfect trap that would definitely lure Voltron in?  

The next time we see Earth, it’s probably going to be under invasion by the Galra. There are two possibilities: (1) the Garrison will be on their side or (2) the Garrison will see this as an act of war. Under both situations, I doubt that the Garrison doesn’t know about the Galra and other alien races. And, honestly, I see more validity in option 1. 

Listen, throughout season one, we knew that the Garrison was hiding something. Pidge obviously knew that they knew something about her family, but she didn’t have enough time to figure out what it was. And that means that the Garrison had to have known that this wasn’t a normal mission. In normal circumstances, we wouldn’t have known what had happened and would have ruled it out as an unfortunate death. But they knew more than enough to rule out the cause of death as a pilot error. 

Zarkon literally said that there was no place on the universe where he couldn’t reach. While he may have meant that in a militaristic way, I think he meant it in a quite literal way. 

We already know that leaders can be corrupt, look at King Lubos. The creators of Voltron made sure to mention that just because you’re a leader, doesn’t mean you’re on the good side or that you would do anything and everything for the benefit of your people. 

And for the Garrison to be able to make a presence or for the Galra to even think about asking the Garrison, they must have some type of political control. Considering that they are one of the best schools for training space cadets, I don’t think that this is too far off. We’ve only seen the school aspect from our younger paladins. We haven’t seen the military aspect. Considering that we don’t know the actual politics of future Earth, we don’t know how screwed the government is. But I’d literally bet 100 bucks that it’s going to represent the mess we have right now if I had the money.

{PART 19} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; Not knowing whether to stay and fight, or run and protect you; Jungkook gets thrown into a world of fear and panic. Meanwhile, Yoongi and Serrena battle for victory in the silent game of war they play;

“How dreadful…to be caught up in a game and have no idea of the rules.”

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

{Part 1} // {Part 18} {Part 19} {Part 20}

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anonymous asked:

Yo could you share some of your headcanons for the deh kiddos :O ?! I'm really curious!!

*cracks knuckles* HEADCANONS UNDER THE CUT (these are generally feel-good and going off of a Connor Lived And Everything Gets Better AU set of ten [+ one extra] headcanons for the kids where they’re all friends)

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Eric Richard Bittle is Jewish

Tw: mentions of antisemitism

Ok, hear me out. I know there is a lot of evidence pointing to Bitty being a good Southern Christian Gay and like, that is completely plausible and if that’s your jam, great! But because I love projecting and rubbing my Jew-y hands on everything, here is a theory about Bitty being an extremely assimilatory southern Jew who only really gets in touch with his culture and Jewish identity once he gets to college in the North East.

So I did some research and while “phelps” (Bitty’s maternal family name) isn’t the dead ringer that “Birkholtz” or “Zimmermann” is, it still has a history of being a Jewish surname in the Anglo-Saxon region. So to me, Bitty is Jewish on his mom’s side, but his paternal family is very southern Christian and so, really that’s what he grew up with, because being Jewish in the south? Well… that’s a whole thing.

My mom grew up in Atlanta Georgia, and in her high school, she was the only Jewish person by a long shot. My grandfather taught at Emory and so they didn’t belong to a temple, and went to Hillel sometimes during the bug holidays, but for he most part she wasn’t involved in religious affairs because it wasn’t “normal”.

I think something along the same lines happened to Bitty. His Moomah always made Jewish food for their family, but only made Southern food for company. At Chanukah, they would put up a Christmas tree, but put a Jewish star as an ornament and call it a “Chanukah bush.”

Bitty had a friend in second grade named Timmy who came over for a play date one day, only to never come back because his mom saw their mezuzah on the front door and forbid them from hanging out again. “Timmy doesn’t need to be influenced by that kind”

After that, well, Bitty stops asking his mama to make kasha varnishkas for his lunch (someone once told him it looked like he was eating pasta with dirt in it) and he stops going to temple on rosh hashana, and he starts calling his Christmas tree a Christmas tree. When someone tells him he “doesn’t look Jewish” he knows it’s a compliment.

The Monday at school after the Closet Incident, there’s a swastika keyed into his locker.

Because it’s one thing being the gay kid in a small town, it’s a whole other thing to be gay AND Jewish. It’s like he’s had two strikes against him since he was born.

When he moves to Madison he begs his mom not to put up a mezuzah. He can’t understand why she starts crying, but she doesn’t put it up. It’s a fresh start.

The rest of middle school and high school, Bitty secularizes.

When one of his teammates in his coed team tells him he’s acting “like a Jew” when he asks her for money for the team shirts, Bitty bites his tongue so hard he draws blood.

When all the kids in his tenth grade English class throw pennies at Mr. Bloom during his lecture on Eli Wiesel, Bitty stays after and helps pick them up.

Fast forward to freshman year at Samwell, and Bitty is hanging around the haus just before Rosh Hashana.

Holster is talking to Ransom and Jack about putting something together for dinner, maybe picking up some matzo ball soup mix and some ruggies from a deli near by.

Bitty, who shuddered at the though of soup coming out of a box blurted out without thinking “you know, I could whip up some of my grandmas matzo ball soup? And maybe some kugel?”

All three of the other boys look at him with wide eyes.

“I didn’t know you were Jewish Bittle,” Jack quirked a brow in intrigue.

“Well,” Bitty said, face heating up, “I- I’m not JEWISH Jewish. My mom is Jewish. My Moomah is Jewish, but ME? I don’t know.”

Everyone else seemed perplexed by this statement, but Holster’s eyes lowered a bit.

Bitty took that to mean ‘I hate you why would you say that you should just leave’ and promptly scrambled out the door, a whirlwind of “sorry got to go’s”

Later that week, someone knocked on Bitty’s dorm door, and that someone was Adam Jacob Birkholtz, certified Nice Jewish Boy and hulking mass.

“Uh, can we talk?” Holster asked a bit sheepishly.

Bitty agreed and lead them into his room.

Holster sat on his tiny bed and asked, “what did you mean before? When you said your mom and grandma are Jewish but not you?” It was tentative, but Bitty could tell the question wasn’t an accusation.

“Well I mean, I don’t really celebrate anything anymore. For all intents and purposes my house was a secular house all throughout middle school and high school.”

“But bitty,” holster sighed, “just because your half Jewish doesn’t mean you can’t be Jewish. And even if you aren’t practicing that doesn’t mean you can’t be Jewish either. I had a friend in high school that was half Jewish and people at temple would make him feel unwelcome. You don’t have to worry about that here.”

“Oh um, thanks? But it’s not that. Look, I know I’m Jewish. People have been making that clear to me for my whole life.”

“What do you mean?” Holster asked.

Bitty then began to regale all of the things he’s experienced. All of the prejudice, the slurs, the pennies, the swastikas. All of the pain that came with being the Jew in the south.

Holster listened, “Bits, that’s really rough dude. And like, I get it, some things are too painful. But it’s not like that at Samwell. Sure there are assholes everywhere, and it’s not like there’s never any antisemitism but, if you haven’t noticed based on the hockey team already, you aren’t alone here! There’s a whole Jewish community that’s got your back.

"Listen, why don’t you come to Hillel with me for Rosh Hashana, we can make your Moomas soup together! And maybe even Jack will help and not complain. Just, I don’t want you to have to feel like that about yourself.”

Bitty begins to decline the invitation but then something stops him. He remembers being a little kid, dipping apple slices in honey and chasing his mama around the house with sticky fingers.

“Alright I’ll go.”

And he does.
And he loves it.

He starts going to Hillel with Holster after that, and sometimes Jack tags along, sometimes so does Shitty. And in his Sophomore year, Nursey comes along with, and then his junior year comes Tango.

He makes matzo ball soup by the barrel, and re-learns the prayers for the Shabbat candles.

But it’s in his freshman year that he goes home for Winter break and pulls out the old Star of David ornament and puts it on the tree.

He asks his mom if he could help light the Chanukah candles and she looks shocked at first, but then she smiles and says “of course sweetheart.”

Later he hands her a present. It’s a long and thin box wrapped in silver paper with a little blue bow on top.

She takes it from his hand carefully, like its a shard of glass or something.

She opens it and It’s a silver mezuzah cover.

It’s a fresh start.

anonymous asked:

Forgive me if you've been asked this already but at what moment do you think Clarke fell in love with Lexa, or realized she was in love with her? I believe Eliza had trouble answering this at a con (I think she said it was before the bow though) so I'm wondering what you think.

Mmm that’s hard to say, and honestly, that’s kinda what I love about it. Because you can’t always exactly pinpoint the moment you fall in love with someone, right? Maybe it’s a feeling that grows gradually but unstoppable, maybe it’s like a wave hitting you at once, it varies. And that’s how I think it was for Clarke.

The way I see it, it was sudden for her at first and then everything slowed down and it naturally developed. It wasn’t love yet in the beginning, but there was definitely a realization that she had feelings for Lexa. Just look at her face after storming out of Lexa’s tent in 2x14. 

Why else would she looked so bothered? If she had just been upset about their argument she would have had an angry face. Instead she looks like she’s literally trying to physically restrain her feelings, whatever they may be. She takes that deep, shaky breath in an attempt to collect herself because, what the hell just happened inside that tent? Did Lexa really just confess she has feelings for me? And why does it affect me so much? What am I feeling? This is what I think is going through her mind. And then of course we have the confirmation of this, when she gladly replies to Lexa’s kiss. Even after she rejects her, there is no indication of that being a definitive rejection. There is no feeling of “I’m sorry, but I don’t reciprocate.” Clarke is not ready for a relationship, and it’s right that she was honest with Lexa, but she rejects her in literally the softest way possible, AND leaves the door open for the future. Not yet. That means she already sees herself considering a relationship with Lexa in the future, after healing, when she’s finally ready. And look at how tender and somewhat tamely longing her gaze is even after she rejected Lexa.

She is definitely aware of her feelings for Lexa here. But then the betrayal happens and ah, they take 46 steps back.

Now, of course, Lexa’s betrayal causes Clarke to close herself off. Clarke is angry at Lexa, she’s angry at herself, she’s in pain, every other feeling pales in comparison. And obviously, so much of Clarke’s suffering is tied to what Lexa did, so it’s definitely not a surprise that romance is out of the question when they first meet again. Clarke’s pain is consuming her, she is definitely not thinking about whatever she and Lexa had. And yet…

This isn’t a romantic moment by any means. But we’re talking about Clarke realizing she loves Lexa, and I don’t think we can’t gloss over this moment. When I say that I don’t romanticize this scene, it’s because this is not a cute moment. This isn’t a “oh my God, she loves her!” moment, this moment is sad. It’s painful, it’s heartbreaking, but it’s so damn important. Clarke can’t kill Lexa here. How much easier would it be for her to shut her heart out entirely, to blame Lexa for everything and just kill her without feeling anything? I bet in that moment, a part of Clarke wants that. But Clarke feels, and she feels for Lexa. She has these feelings and they won’t go away, not even when she’s at her lowest. So yeah, not a romantic moment, but definitely essential to understand Clarke’s complicated feelings for Lexa.

After the bow, Clarke is a little more trusting towards Lexa, but she’s definitely still closed off, she’s not ready to expose her heart yet. And we get to the “I’m doing it for my people” episode, 3x04. Right from the very beginning, Clarke spends the entire episode trying to find a way to keep Lexa safe, to protect her. But every single time she voices her concerns to Lexa or hell, even Titus, her preoccupation feels far more personal than political. She’s worried, she’s agitated, she even seems angry that Lexa won’t listen to her and step away from the duel. It’s a crescendo of apprehension and frustration and anxiousness as every single one of Clarke’s attempts fails, crescendo that culminates in an emotional explosion.

The second gif is particularly telling. Titus interrupts them, the moment is gone and Clarke finds herself having to face what just happened. Look at her face, at how she looks away from Lexa and sucks a breath through her teeth. She’s restraining her feelings, but she’s a little too late this time. And it’s not only Lexa who is shaken by Clarke’s emotional outburst, it’s Clarke herself too. She doesn’t catch herself in time and now she can’t pretend with herself that those feelings aren’t there. I think this is when the true first “shift” after the betrayal happens. Clarke wants to keep Lexa at arm’s length but Lexa might very well die that same day and, despite any resolution she had, the thought terrifies Clarke. And she’s so scared that she’s never going to see Lexa again that…

I could write an essay on all the emotions Clarke experiences before and throughout and at the end of Lexa’s duel, but the gist of it is that during this tense moment, with Lexa’s life on the line, she can’t bring herself to hide her feelings. It’s all there, on her face. 

Only when things settle down she is able to collect herself again. Lexa comes visit her that night and we see Clarke pull her walls up again. “I was just doing what was right for my people.” BUT! Even if Clarke is not ready to open up her heart again, that scene is infused with intimacy. Even Clarke’s “rejection” is filled with emotion.

Clarke is the opposite of cold here. The way I see it, she is pulling away because she’s realizing she’s close to giving in, but she’s not yet ready for that. It’s so clear that here Lexa is talking about what happened at Mount Weather too, this is another quiet apology that Clarke obviously recognizes. If she went with her feelings, Clarke would have to admit that she does understand Lexa, that in her heart maybe she’s already forgiven her. But in that moment it’s too overwhelming, so she looks away and avoids the conversation, avoids Lexa’s gaze, avoids having to focus on her feelings.

She literally keeps having to look away because things get too intense but at the same time there’s a tenderness in her eyes that she can’t hide. And once Lexa is gone and she can breathe… bam

All the feelings she restrained, everything she tried to hide merely minutes ago hits her full force. I said I think Clarke’s love for Lexa developed gradually, naturally, but if I had to pick a specific moment and say that’s when Clarke realized she’s in love with Lexa, it would be this one.

By the time we get to 3x06, I do believe Clarke knows and has accepted she is in love with Lexa, but she’s still struggling to admit it out loud, especially to Lexa. That episode happens roughly 7-10 days after the events of Hakeldama, and when we see Clarke and Lexa again, they are closer than ever. There is a sense of intimacy, of almost domesticity between them. They are comfortable with each other’s presence. There’s not really a reason for them being in the same room in that scene: Lexa fell asleep while reading and Clarke is drawing (there are other sheets in her folder, which makes me think she was drawing other things before focusing on Lexa). They don’t have to talk or interact, they simply are together.

When Lexa wakes up from the nightmare, Clarke doesn’t hesitate to jump next to her and comfort her, with soothing touches and calming, reassuring words. And then we get to the moment Lexa notices the drawing. A lot has been said about Lexa’s face, but instead look at Clarke’s.

This is the exact opposite of what I was talking about in 3x04. Lexa sees the drawing and is taken aback. That she doesn’t know whether she should hope for anything is another story, but the look she gives Clarke is very telling. And Clarke doesn’t avoid it. Yes, her first instinct is to play it off as something meaningless. “Uh, that’s not- it’s not finished yet.” But then Lexa looks at her, confused, surprised, a tiny bit hopeful, and Clarke meets her gaze and they just stare at each other. Look at that little pause she does before lifting her eyes. That’s when she chooses not to hide. As I said, I think that here Clarke has come to terms with her feelings for Lexa, but here for the first time, she doesn’t hide them from Lexa. Her look is just as telling as Lexa’s. They aren’t saying a word and this is one of their most honest, important conversations. Clarke is silent, but her eyes are speaking, her untold feelings are there, and maybe letting Lexa know isn’t so unfathomable anymore. Maybe, maybe Clarke this is the closest Clarke has been to being ready.

So this is what i think. The way I see it, it’s tricky and complicated and simply beautiful.

hugealienpie  asked:

I see prompts are open yay! Please tell me all about Ford finding out about Bitty and Jack.

Ooh, this is interesting, because I don’t feel like it’d be an announcement, but just something Ford finds out when Jack visits or the like. I mean, it could go the other way, like Lardo could be, “heads up, Bitty’s dating our ex-captain” and Ford would be like, “okay? why are you telling me?” (She’s a theatre background, what is a Bad Bob to her?) I think she’d be pretty chill with it, and coming from theatre, like being gay is not an issue, esp in college (and even at the professional level) and esp if we go with the oft reblogged “Ford is gay” headcanon.

But here is a small fic that is only half based on the above…

Ford double checks the dozens of pages Lardo has given her for the upcoming roadie. She thought dealing with dressing room allocation was hard (and it is, one hundred percent) but figuring out room allocations is somehow worse, particularly when she’s new, and hockey players are more superstitious than the girl who played Johanna in Sweeney.

“So, who was it I’m meant to pair Oliver with?” Ford asks, grabbing for the red pen she’d stuck into her bun earlier. She comes out with a green one. It’ll do.

“Wicks. But really, he’d be fine with any of the guys in his year.”

Ford makes a note on one of the pages. “Okay, then I think I’m–Oh, shit.”

“What is it?” Lardo looks up from her sketchbook.

Ford double checks through all her sheets before she says anything. She’s not worrying, because there’s no time for that, she’s just already hating the amount of extra work she’ll need to do to fix things.

“I’ve left Eric, um, Bitty,” Ford corrects herself, still getting used to hockey nicknames, “off the rooming list.”

“Oh, that. Nah, you’re good.” Lardo goes back to her drawing. “He stays with his boyfriend when we’re playing up there.”

“Boyfriend?” Ford double-checks.

“Yeah. He’s in Providence. And he’ll drive Bitty to the games and practices and stuff. Should’ve emailed you that. My bad.”

“That’s fine.” Ford grabs another pen from her hair, forgetting she already has one in front of her. It’s red this time. “Just thought I was going to have to redo an entire afternoon’s worth of work.”

“Right,” Lardo says. “I can see why the minor freak out.”

“Excuse you, I did not freak out.” It’s half a lie. Ford has so many notes on these sheets, but she’s not freaking out, she’s managing. It’s all part of it.

Lardo looks up and smiles at her. “Knew you’d be fine at this.”

Ford takes the compliment with a gracious nod, and goes back to ticking off the rooming list against the team names. All accept Eric.

Keep reading

Harry Fake Dates Kendall but is in Love With You

A/n: This is an updated version of an imagine I’ve previously uploaded. I know Hendall is so 2015. I get it.

Masterlist linked in bio.


The red wine leaves a particular stain on Harry’s lips that he hadn’t noticed until Kendall pointed it out to him.

“It looks like you’re wearing lipstick” she laughs, “I didn’t know you were going to dress up this much for the party.”

They are currently sat at his mum’s kitchen island, drinking red wine while munching on some chips left out for the guests. The house is filled with familiar faces, friends and family all throughout London coming together for Anne’s birthday celebration.

They hosted one every year for as long as Harry could remember, a time of year where nearly every one of his family members, including his step family, would unite. It was their favorite time of year, believe it or not. Despite all the excitement for the holidays, Anne’s birthday celebration was certainly something special.

It was Kendall’s first time attending, considering the fact that Harry had only really talked to her whenever he was assigned to be with her for publicity. It wasn’t always ideal, however, he built a stable friendship with her, so he didn’t mind the extra company with him from time to time.

She was invited last minute, of course, since his management called last night to ask if there was any way for them to be seen together. With Harry’s new movie coming out and his solo album just released a couple weeks ago, it was almost a given for him to be rumored with a girlfriend. That’s how it’s worked all throughout his career.

He normally wouldn’t have minded, however, this was the worst possible date for him to be with Kendall.

Because it’s Anne’s birthday party, this means that it’ll be the first time in one year that he’ll be seeing Y/n. They have been best friends since they were five years old, basically growing up in the same house as they went through school together. But as time went on, and as they both went to their separate ways, it was hard to keep in touch with each other all the time.

She remained in the small towns of London while Harry was traveling world wide, where his name became known everywhere as Y/n’s was only known through people she attended school with. Of course, they still talked, considering they both admitted to having more than friendship feelings, but their lives were busy in their own ways, preventing them from being more than what they wanted to be.

For the past couple months, Harry planned that this would be the day he’d finally move forward with Y/n. Or, at least attempt to. With the loss of her over the past year, it made Harry realize just how much he couldn’t imagine a life without her. It had been so long—too long, and he couldn’t stand how long he’s lived without keeping in touch with her.

But now, everything he planned for the two of them is becoming impossible. He can’t begin to imagine how Y/n would feel knowing he brought Kendall to his mum’s birthday party after they both confessed their love for each other. In all honesty, he wouldn’t blame her for giving up on him. He keeps doing this to her, even if it’s unintentional.

He watches around the kitchen at the guests he hasn’t seen in quite a while. His leg bounces with impatience when each new person walking in to attend the party isn’t Y/n. It’s been nearly an hour and has never been so late to anything before.

And as horrible as it sounds, he almost wishes she doesn’t come, just so that she can avoid the heartbreak that will come when she reunites with Kendall again.

“I’m sorry I’m late!”

Harry’s head whips around when he hears the voice he’s been deprived of for the past year. The first thing he notices are her lips, and the way they move around her words so softly. They’re slightly glazed with a lipgloss, painting her lips with a rosy shade of pink. They look so much fuller to him now, but he knows not a trace of them are artificial.  

His eyes only drift from the shape of her lips when her fingers reach to tuck loose pieces of hair behind her ear. It’s then he notices just how much shorter her hair has gotten. What was once so long and lank is now falling just above the shoulder, set in luscious curls he can only imagine twisting around his fingers.

His jaw goes slack when he sees the pale pink dress she’s wearing. It’s made from silk, the metallic fabric glowing with each step she takes. He gulps when he notices just how much the dress accentuates the curvature of her body and how much of her legs are put on display for him to see, and he can’t help but to wipe the sweat off his palms when he watches her greet his mother with a proper kiss on the cheek.

He notices that his eyes haven’t shut since he’s seen her, but he’s so completely intrigued by how much has changed in her. Something about her seems so much more real—so much more vibrant—and he can’t seem to stop himself from praising how time has done her so goddamn well.

“You never told me she was going to be here.“

His body jerks at Kendall’s sudden appearance, her body slowly occupying the seat next to his at the kitchen island. If it wasn’t for her, he swears he would have caught himself drooling.

“Didn’t think I had to,” he says with a shrug, “she’s been my best friend since we were five. She’s basically apart of this family, she wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

Y/n hasn’t missed a single one of Anne’s birthday celebrations since she’s known Harry. Their bond is irreplaceable—so irreplaceable, in fact, that Anne has been convinced Y/n is a miracle for their family. She was there for them through all the troubled times; helping them through their hardships and family instabilities.

When Anne and her husband first got divorced, Harry and Y/n were seven. Harry didn’t understand much of what was happening, all he knew was that his mum and dad weren’t going to love each other anymore. He was hurting, even when Gemma was there to try and keep him together. He started to believe everything between his parents was a lie.

She understood the whole separation process. Her mum left her at a young age, leaving her alone with her father. They were close, of course, but she always missed having a mother figure in her life. It made her upset to know she could only listen to one voice in the house, but as she grew older, she accepted it more.

By the time she met Harry, he kept bringing her over to his house as the years went on. Anne was the closest she had to mother, and their bond became unbreakable by the time Y/n was a teenager. Nearly seven years of Y/n being like another member of the family, Y/n started buying Anne Mother’s Day cards.

So when Y/n watched her second family fall apart, along with Anne’s heart, and she was determined to patch them back together again. Even at her young age, she’d pick flowers from her garden and give them to Anne everyday after school. Y/n said they represented her, and how she felt being a woman with such love and beauty could die all too quickly. Harry never understood what it meant, but Y/n did, which is why she never stopped until she heard Anne laughing again.

She also started to draw pictures and write her letters, reminding her of how loved she was by everyone. As much as Anne was heartbroken during the time, she took the letters everywhere she went and kept every flower alive for as long as she possibly could. Anne would always tell Harry “That girl came into our lives for a reason, my love. She’s a special one, our little miracle, never let her go. You hear me?”

Harry didn’t understand what it truly meant to let someone go, but he did his best to do anything but that. And now, as Harry sits on his mother’s kitchen island and seeing Y/n for the first time in a year, he feels he’s done just that.

“Guess not.” Kendall mutters, taking her last sip of the red wine left in her glass. “She’s just so strange, I guess. I can barely hold a conversation with her without her making an excuse to leave.”

Kendall and Y/n never really got along, it was extremely noticeable to everyone who held a conversation with the both of them. They just don’t see things in the same light. Y/n is very outgoing and lively; an extreme extrovert that seeks adventure—and Kendall can’t stand it. She thinks Y/n does it for attention, especially because she’s remained a small town girl while being surrounded by well-known celebrities. And even though it may seem like Y/n likes the attention, that’s not her purpose. She gives all her attention to others, never to herself, and it has always been something Harry loved the most.

And when it comes to Y/n, Kendall was that one thing that was constantly in her way of Harry. No matter how many times Harry and Y/n discussed how there was something between them, Kendall always found her way back to haunt her. She was her worst goddamn nightmare. She was perfect for Harry in the public eye, and nothing made Y/n feel worse than knowing she’ll never be her type of perfect, especially when it came to Harry.

But Kendall doesn’t know that. All she knows is that Y/n is extremely stand-offish with her, and she’ll never understand why.

“She’s not used to our lives. It’s extremely difficult for her to understand how we live, you know? She’s normal.”

Kendall scoffs, eyes rolling around the room because she hates that word. She feels so divided, like she’s in a categorization in society and everything about it makes her teeth clench.

“We’re normal, too, you know. I don’t understand why she feels so intimated and feels like she has something to prove.”

Harry’s jaw clenches slightly at the negative connotes Kendall has about Y/n’s life. Something about it makes his stomach twist the wrong way, and he can’t help the underlying growl in between his words.

“We’re not normal. Deep down, you and I both know that. You also don’t know Y/n, so stop making irrational assumptions about her.”

Kendall narrows her eyes at Harry, a gaze full of confusion and disbelief at the undeniable grumble in his tone. Any rational conversation they have about Y/n always end the same—with Harry quick to end the discussion and jump to her defense. It’s times like these Kendall never understood the true extent of Harry and Y/n’s relationship. They always claimed it was platonic but there has always been a sense of something stronger in them, like unaddressed or unchased feelings, or a past they shared that was kept between the two.

Either way, it annoyed the shit out of Kendall because they both were hiding something that she’ll never be able to get answered.

“Fine, whatever.” She sighs dramatically, scooting her chair back until she has room to stand properly. “Want some more wine? Getting some.”

Harry slides his empty wine glass so that it’s in front of her, muttering a small “yeah, thanks” before she’s on her way to the counter across the room, retrieving extra wine and mingling with some of Harry’s family.

Harry sighs while his head rests at the palm of his hand, eyes gazing directly to where Y/n is standing. His lips tug up lightly when he hears her laugh from the living room, his tongue running over his bottom lip ever so slightly as he watches her mouth lift and her eyes squint shut as she catches up with one of his uncles about his grand annual weekend fishing trip.

And as his eyes stay so transfixed on the woman in the other room, he can’t help but imagine seeing that type of perfection every day for the rest of his life.

“And everyone thinks Sweet Creature is about me..”

Harry’s head snaps to Gemma’s figure leaning over the edge of the island, her elbows hitched on the counter as a small smirk plays on her lips. She found it abnormally amusing how he didn’t even acknowledge her presence until she spoke, too invested in hawking over Y/n’s every move.

Harry grumbles, but the smile from Y/n’s laughter is permanent on his lips when he does so. Gemma even notices his cheeks brighten with pink, another hint of confirmation to the words she spoke.

“Shut up, Gem.“

She puts her arms up defensively, “Hey, don’t take it out on me. I’m just making an observation.”

Harry rolls his eyes as Gemma wraps her arm around his neck, hunching over so that her lips are close to his ear and eyes are directed toward Y/n again.

“She has gotten hotter, hasn’t she?”

She has no idea. All Harry can think about is how someone already so beautiful has grown to be so perfect. Everything about her makes Harry want to get down on his knees and worship every inch of her body. He has to bite down on his bottom lip to stop himself from thinking how much of a wreck he wants to make out of her.

“I don’t know how she did it. You better get her while you still have the chance, I know many, many men who want a taste of her.”

No is the first thing Harry thinks when the words leave from Gemma’s mouth. As hypocritical and selfish as it is, knowing other men have shown an interest in her makes his skin crawl. And he can’t help but feel his throat tighten at the moment Y/n realizes he had brought Kendall to this party.

“Is she—“ he can’t even finish his sentence without his jaw tightening again, hindering the rest of his question from leaving his lips.

“Oh, quit your worrying, H. She’s single, I don’t think she’d ever date someone who isn’t you. Besides, I don’t think you can do much about it with Kendall here.”

Gemma lifts a finger to where Kendall is standing, still in the same spot as she talks to his aunt Leslie. His heart hurts knowing what Y/n will feel when she finds out. He knows that there is always a part of her that feels discouraged whenever there’s a new woman in his life. In between Harry and Y/n’s love for each other was a mix of false hopes and miscommunication, and it always fucked them up whenever anything else was put in their way.

Gemma pats his shoulder before making rounds to her family and friends again, leaving Harry slumped against the counter with not a drop of wine to numb his scrambling mind.

When Y/n finishes catching up with the rest of Harry’s family, she finds that her patience is wearing thin. It’s been a year since she’s seen the love of her life, and knowing that he’s somewhere near her is enough to get her heart racing.

When she sees him sitting alone at the kitchen island, wearing his infamous pink suit and staring down at his fingers, it’s as if her body starts to malfunction. Her legs stop moving and her lips part, eyes glistening with admiration as she sees him for the first time in so long.

He’s as beautiful as ever, his new haircut accentuating his facial structure. His lips seem so much more red, too, which are complimented greatly by that goddamn suit. Everything about him radiates, like he’s developed into a whole other person. She’ll never quite grasp the idea that she’s about to reunite with him; something about it makes her palms sweat.

“Hey, stranger.”

Harry lifts his head up to look at her in all her glory. His heart warms at her presence more than the wine did, and he can’t help but to take a breath of relief when he finally hears her voice again.

“Y/n.” He breathes out, his fingers instinctively reaching up to the ends of her cut hair.

He chokes out a laugh of admiration when he sees her this close to him. She is so much different—so much more perfect than he ever remembers her being and it takes his breath away.

His fingers twist her hair, wrapping them around the digits before letting the strands fall back in place again. He never saw her without her hair down to her waist, and now that he has, he never wants to see her hair past her shoulders again.

“It’s so beautiful” he whispers, “you look so beautiful like this, Y/n. I absolutely love it.”

She blushes, her chin tucking slightly into her neck as if trying to hide how much of a reaction he got out of her. No matter how many years she’s known him, she was never used to the way he spoke to her.

“It was spontaneous. Really wanted a change, and it looks like I’m not the only one.”

Her hands reach to his hair, which is so much shorter compared to the last time she saw him. She remembered she couldn’t keep her hands out of it last year, constantly finding ways to tangle her fingers at the ends. Harry found it hysterical, actually, and thought it was the cutest thing she’s ever done.

“It’s just so soft” she’d say, “it’s like a whole other world in there!”

But now her only option is to tangle her fingers at the roots, and as she does so, her mind drifts to all the other occasions she could have her hands in his hair again.

“It’s so much shorter. Look at that! I can barely tug on it anymore!” She laughs in amusement, her fingers slipping as she pulls too hard.

He smirks up at her, a giggle falling from his lips as he watches her utterly amused reaction. They begin to catch up with the part of their lives they both have missed. Harry talked about his album while Y/n started discussing her new journalism job.

Talking to Y/n is one of the only normal parts of him left, it always gave him a sense of grounding whenever he felt his career was taking off to heights he wasn’t ready for. She is one of the only sense of normality he has left in his life, and it’s another reason as to why he admires her so dearly. She brought out parts of him nobody else could reach, and it’s another reason why he feels so upset he’s barely talked to her.

“Y/n?” he asks hesitantly, reaching his hand over so that his fingertips graze her hand.

Her breath breaks when he touches her, the softness in his voice proving that what is about to be discussed is far more important than their previous conversation. She notices the stress lines in between his forehead and the parting of his wine stained lips when he begins to speak. 

“I’m so sorry I haven’t kept in touch with you. I know how it makes me look, especially after everything that happened between us. With the new album and everything, I’ve just been so busy with—“

“Kendall?”

Harry’s head jumps to where Y/n stares dumbfounded, Kendall holding two glasses of wine in one hand while the other is carrying a plate of chicken wings. She’s looking down at Y/n, too, her eyebrows lifted up in an intimidating manner. There’s a scowl present on her lips as she continues to tower over her.

Y/n feels tears building in her eyes as she takes in the situation at hand. She was so fucking dumb to think that Harry was going to come to Anne’s party alone, especially since his new album just released. This is Kendall’s prime time appearance, when Harry needs a familiar famous face beside him to advertise his solo career.

This isn’t anything new—this isn’t anything unfamiliar, but the pain feels like a fresh wound to her heart. Harry and Y/n are nearly 24, with having known each other and felt something for each other for years, she thought that if anything were going to happen, it was going to happen now. But everything between them has remained stagnant for so long that the last sliver of hope she had for their potential relationship has been completely taken away from her. By Kendall, again.

“W—Wow, I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t know Harry had invited you.”

“Yeah,” Kendall nods, “he invited me last night.”

Last night.

Y/n’s lips purse together, nodding her head as her eyes drift around the kitchen. Anything to avoid Kendall’s eyes—anything to feel as unimportant as she does now.

Harry’s eyes squeeze shut, a small hissing releasing from his tongue at how wrong it all sounds, considering absolutely nothing happened between Harry and Kendall the previous night besides being demanded that the two of them are to be seen together again.

“Right,” Y/n’s voice cracks, “well, I’m sorry to interrupt your time together. I’m going to go to Gemma’s room, got a phone call from my dad a while ago so I should go check up on him. I’ll see you guys around.”

She musters up a pathetic smile before practically running away from them. After everything they both told each other, after all the feelings they’ve had toward each other, how could Harry keep doing this to her? How could he keep being with Kendall when he says he loves Y/n?

She doesn’t even find the strength in her to hold in her tears before she approaches the steps, not daring to look back at them again. She never wants to see them in the same room again, it’ll be too much her heart can handle. 

“You’ve really got to be fucking kidding me, Kendall.” Harry growls.

His hands fist around the wine glass, his knuckles turning white and he’s absolutely shocked it hasn’t shattered into pieces in his hands from all the anger pulsing through his veins.

Jesus, Harry, neither one of you can take a joke. Does she not understand that all of this is for the press? She keeps acting like we’re a couple.”

“Could you really blame her after that? ‘He invited me last night,’ you’re really getting a kick out of making her uncomfortable, aren’t you?”

He grumbles as he takes a long sip of his wine, hoping that the alcohol loosens his muscles enough to restrain himself from doing anything he regrets. He loves his mum too much to start an argument during her birthday party, and as much as Kendall’s shifting Harry’s mood, he still appreciates her as a friend to ruin anything.

“That wasn’t even my fault, you both dug into that way too deep. Last night does not mean while we were fucking. It’s a time of day.”

“It’s the way you said it.”

“Are you being serious, Harry?”

He slams his glass down on the island, grumbling under his breath while he stands up from his chair. No matter how much anger is in him now, the only thoughts swirling in his brain are wondering if Y/n’s okay. She would have never left the party to go into a secluded room, not even if her dad called her.

“You leave her the fuck alone, Kendall. I mean it.”

He storms away from her, desperate to find Y/n because God only knows what’s really happening in that bedroom. Y/n’s emotions and feelings are always positive, always so bright, and he refuses to be the reason they turn upside down. She doesn’t deserve all he keeps doing to her, she doesn’t deserve him.

When Harry nearly swings himself onto the first step, he can already hear the soft murmur of Y/n’s and Anne’s voice, which makes him stop from approaching them any more than he has already.

“Y/n? Y/n, darling?” Anne asks with worry when she sees Y/n climbing up the top step with tears in her eyes, soft cries falling from her throat as her hand attempts to silence them.

She reaches an arm out for her, tugging at the front of Y/n’s dress slightly to get her attention. She’s grateful it was Anne who found her this way instead of any other guest at the party, considering nobody besides her and Harry have seen her with a frown on her face.

“Y/n, baby, what’s going on with you?”

The lights are off in the hallway, with no guests permitted in the area, which gives Y/n the proper time to fully allow her tears to fall down her cheeks.

“I’m so s—sorry, Anne.” Y/n cries.

Anne’s hands rub her shoulders, reassuring her that there’s absolutely nothing for her to apologize for. It also lets her know that she’s willing to listen to her, no matter where or when—she’ll always be there.

“I’m almost 24, Anne, and I’ve put so much of my life on hold for him.”

She knows instantly who Y/n’s talking about. It wasn’t difficult to notice the undying connection between Y/n and her son, especially as the years went on. They have grown so strongly together, there has never been a doubt in Anne’s mind that Y/n is going to be the girl Harry ends up marrying. Everyone in the family called it a destiny waiting to happen, but it has been so long since anything has happened between them, and Anne can’t help but feel heartbroken to know Y/n’s carrying the wrong idea about him and Kendall.

“And I’ve sacrificed so m—much to continue waiting for him, but I don’t think I can keep doing this anymore. We’re nowhere near where we should be, especially when he keeps spending time with Kendall and I just—I just don’t know if I can—“

“Oh, my darling.” Anne sighs, cradling Y/n’s head against her shoulder as she rubs down her back.

She shushes her through her tears, rocking her slightly in an attempt to calm her from her cries. It’s extremely rare for Y/n to feel upset, so when she does so, Anne knows she deserves all the comfort and love she can get.

“I know you so well, and I know my son. I always knew you were a match made in heaven, my dear. I knew from the start you were more than just an ordinary girl. You’re so special, to everyone in our family, but especially to him. He may not have his head screwed on right most of the time, but if I can promise you anything with all my heart, it’s that he loves you. Please, no matter what, never forget that.”

Y/n nods against her shoulder, thanking her through her violent cries before Anne insists she takes some time to herself. And as much as Y/n wanted to refrain from going into Harry’s bedroom, it’ll be the only place that brings her a sense of comfort.

Harry already knows he’s in for a lecture the second he sees his mum coming down the stairs with bewildered eyes. She grips his shoulders, her face tight with frustration.

“Mum—“

“You go over to her and you be the man I taught you to be, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes widen at her words, swallowing thickly at the thought of disappointing another person in his life.

“She loves you and you love her. Stop doing favors for other people and start thinking about you before you ruin both of your lives forever. You hear me?”

Harry nods feverishly, determined and more motivated than ever to fix all that he’s caused. Love comes first, always, and he needs to remember that before he breaks Y/n’s heart completely.

She’s it. She’s all that matters to him.

He barely responds to Anne before he’s racing to his old bedroom, completely clueless as to what he’s going to say, but willing to do anything to get her back.

“Y/n?” Harry calls through the door of his old bedroom. “Y/n, can I come in?” 

He knocks on the door lightly, just using the knuckles of his pointer and middle finger. He hears her feet pad over to the door, opening it to reveal her tear stained cheeks. Her hands are trembling against the knob, her breath broken with soft, gentle cries. Her eyes are widened with sadness, wet and red from tears she barely ever cries.

“Y/n.” He whimpers, tentatively reaching his shaking fingers up to her cheeks. He wipes away the tears from the bottoms of her eyes, sighing upsettingly as her eyes close at his touch. “Never seen you like this. Please talk to me.”

Her lips quiver as another sob rips through her, her hand reaching up to capture his between her fingers. Her saddened and wet eyes looking down at the intertwined hands now resting against her lap.

“I’m so tired, H.” She whimpers, “So tired.”

His lips press against her forehead, “I know, love. I know.”

She wraps her arms around him, her face burying in between his chest as he lets her tears soak in his undershirt.

“I couldn’t take it anymore. I thought I’d finally be alone with you after all this time. I missed being close to you, I wanted to be closer to you and I thought you felt the same about me and I didn’t understand, Harry, I didn’t get it and—“


“Hey, relax for me.” Harry mumbles, his lips grazing tenderly along her cheek.

She takes a deep breath, her fingers fisting the back of his suit tighter in her fists. She rests her chin on the top of his chest, tears still roaming down her face as she lets out an exasperated sigh. Her fingertips trace patterns on his back, her eyes fluttering closed as he pushes some of her hair off of her face, refraining them from sticking to her wet cheeks.

“I didn’t get it,” she whispers, “I was so confused, and when you didn’t answer my calls or texts I thought you didn’t find me important. And I was under no right to be upset about it, because you’re busy and you have priorities. But when I saw you today, I didn’t see you as the Harry I always have, I still can’t tell you what I saw but I wanted every part of you more than I ever have before. But when I saw Kendall I—“

Her cries and words die down when she feels Harry’s tender lips against hers. She’s taken aback at first, and before she has any time to really kiss him back, he’s already pulled away.

“Let me fix this.” He breathes out, “let show you that I only want you.”

His lips press against the side of her mouth, not allowing himself to kiss her the way he wants to until she lets him. They then begin to travel down her neck, along her jaw, around her mouth.

Y/n’s breath is stiff as he does so, embracing the feeling of his mouth against her skin. They’ve only ever kissed a handful of times, none of them being passionate or loving. They’ve shared pecks while saying goodbyes or after confessing their feelings, but none quite like this—none quite like the one anticipating to happen.

His breathing his hard when he continues to kiss along her skin, his fingers moving longly in her hair the more his mouth presses against her.

“Will you let me?” He whispers when his lips are ghosting over hers, “this okay?”

She nods feverishly, hitting the point of desperation when she feels his breath fan over the skin of her face. She’s been needing this for far too long now.

“Yes, please.

His thumb runs over her bottom lip one, two, three times before he finally leans in. Their lips mush together passionately, only breaking apart to move their position before locking again. Their tongues meet in the middle, making the both of them moan at the unfamiliar spark coursing through their veins.

Harry walks toward his bed until Y/n’s knees hit the edge of it, making her back meet the mattress. Their lips haven’t detached once, not daring to break away from the feeling they’ve both been deprived of.

They’re both making out on Harry’s childhood bed, grinding onto each other half naked like two hormonal teenagers. Their clothes thrown across the room, lips swollen from all the suction and nibbling, and hair completely knotted from either of their fingertips, the party below them long forgotten.

“Wait, wait wait wait!” Y/n gasps, lifting herself off of his chest.

Harry’s chest rises and falls rapidly, trying to catch his breath as he looks up at Y/n in confusion. He watches as a smirk lifts from her lips as she peers down at his flushed face, giggling slightly at his complete fucked out appearance.

She notices that his lips remained stained from the red wine—a little faded—but still making her body weak at the sight of it.

“’s the matter?” He croaks.

His voice is thick—an entirely different level of raspy, and Y/n wonders how she’s lived so long without hearing him speak in that way. Between all the kissing, all the touching, all the moaning, his voice has a particular roughness to it that Y/n could feed off of if she had to.

“We shouldn’t do this, right? I mean, we’re about to fuck during your mum’s birthday party. Your entire family and Kendall are downstairs, anybody could walk in at any second, or hear us, and your mum could find that so disrespectful and—“

Her rambling is interrupted by his lips, meeting hers passionately between her words.

There is no way in hell he’s leaving this room tonight. Everything that’s been stagnant between them is finally moving in the right direction, and he can’t find it anywhere in him to walk away from it.

“You think I’m letting you go now?” He whispers, his thumb running along her bottom lip. “I have been waiting for this moment with you since high school, sweetheart.”

His lips reattach to her neck, sucking on spots he hasn’t already left marks on, soaking up every bit of the time he has with her before it’s over. This is the first time they’re going to make love, and he wants to feel and remember every bit of this moment.

“B—But your mum—“ She moans, her fingers nearly tangling at the ends of his hair as she hisses in pleasure from his tongue.

“Every single person downstairs knows about us. This—this happening right now, has been expected to happen since I first brought you home. I guarantee you, nothing will make her more happy than knowing her son and his future wife are finally acting on our feelings instead of pushing them to the side again.”

His words make Y/n blush like no other; her cheeks turning the shade of pink on her dress she wore previously. It’s then he notices just hot fucking pretty she is in pink, how every tint of the color compliments her in ways he can barely wrap his head around.

“Future wife, hm?” She smirks, tapping the pads of her fingers against his bare collarbones.

He kisses her again.

“Thought you knew that, love. Wouldn’t know a single soul I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.” His fingers dig into her hips, “’s always been you.“

Y/n pushes Harry’s back against the mattress again, trailing her fingers down his torso. She giggles when his teeth clench at her touch, finding it almost irresistible to embrace the way he responds to her touch so easily.

“Trust me, I always knew.”

@taylor-tut tHIS IS SO LATE I’M SO SORRY MY FAB FRIENDO! But! It has finally arrived!! I’m sorry if it’s a bit crappy, I like haven’t slept in three days haha

anyhoo, onto the story:


Lance woke up with a sneeze.

He blinked his eyes open, immediately groaning at the light that pierced through his eyeballs and into his temples. He brought an arm up to shield his face, shivering slightly. Taking a deep breath, Lance conducted a mental survey of his condition, assessing his apparently numerous ailments that seem to have manifested overnight.

Congested sinuses that dissolved into a throbbing headache that pulsed outward with each movement? Check. 

Raw, sandpaper throat, and lungs that rattled with every inhale? Check.

The strange sensation of being completely, bone-numbingly cold despite the warmth and clamminess of his limbs? Checkerooni.

Conclusion: Today is gonna suck.

If Lance were to be perfectly honest with himself, he would concede that he had been feeling off these last couple days. Nevertheless, the team needed his 100% right now, and any wooziness he may have felt had to be put on the backburner. With several months having passed without any sign of Shiro, tensions within the castle were palpable.  Keith and Pidge seemed inches away from snapping at any given moment, Allura’s training schedule seemed to have been kicked up the several notches from “very harsh” to “dear god I can taste my own pulse”, and even Hunk and Coran seemed somewhat subdued. It was the least Lance could do to try and keep up, and make sure the other’s stayed optimistic. He was the joker, the sharpshooter - it was his role, no matter how taxing it could be on his own body.

Lance steeled himself, counting down from five, before swinging out of his bed, pausing to lean against the wall as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Once the tilt-a-whirl he usually called a bedroom settled to a soft swaying, Lance began to make his way down to the dining hall.

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