blue's round eyes

“Carnations” (Part 4)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (College AU)

Summary: A carnation fundraiser, an iota of possibility, and a longtime secret crush on your hot best friend - what could go wrong?

all thanks to the stupendous @buckyywiththegoodhair for beta-reading! you’re an opalescent pineapple-unicorn who deserves all the kettle corn in the world!

Last year, you and Bucky thought it’d be fun to make holiday wreaths while under the influence. Bucky stole a bottle of expensive vodka from his parents’ liquor cabinet, and both of you got embarrassingly drunk over a weird game of Truth and arguments about who got to use the hot glue gun first.

You gave him your drunken creation, which he gamely took and hung on his apartment door. Sam hated it –“The hell is – oh God, is that Barbie head glued on the side?”– but Bucky refused to throw it away.

A sense of amusement usually washed over you whenever you took in the fabric unattractively bunched up or the Barbie head randomly glued on the side. But today, the ugly wreath made your heart lodge itself in your throat. The Barbie head was scrutinizing you, its blue eyes judging you in a hawkish way.

You spin on your heel. “Sharon, I’ve changed my mind, I can’t do –” You smack your palm against your forehead as you remember that Sharon had already driven away.

The car ride to Bucky’s off-campus apartment had been an interesting one. Your blood coursed with adrenaline as you reassured yourself you’d be okay no matter what; you’d already gone through an emotional hurricane - what was one more time? Now you wanted to build a time machine and tell your past self to shut up and maintain anonymity.

“Nope,” you mutter under your breath, forcing yourself to face the ugly wreath again. “Channel your inner Romeo. Confess your love, but communicate thoroughly so you don’t die in the end.”

Keep reading

Fair Play

This one took me forever to finish! Hope you guys enjoy it <3 Thanks @pennigg101297 for the beta!

Something ecstatic, for sure. Harry stared at the red cup in his hand… was it really his hand? It seemed completely detached from his body. The boy looked up. Yep, definitely something

The whole room was a recreation of those psychedelic movies. Purple, blue, green, red, the colorful lights blurring everything and everyone else. There were people on the ground, laughing at absolutely nothing, boys with girls and boys with boys and girls with girls and even trios, Merlin’s tits, the whole room exhaled teenage hormones. Someone, Harry suspected it was Dean because he was almost sure that was muggle music, made sure to choose agitated songs, those that practically force you to tap your foot to the beat even when you don’t feel like dancing at all.

Harry dropped his head, eyeing his seemingly detached foot, tapping to the beat. Where the hell were Ron and Hermione?

A very clear memory of his two best friends half naked snogging each other assaulted his mind before he could examine the room.

‘Bloody hell’ he rubbed his eyes like that would be able to erase the awful experience. Okay, he better not search for them this time. Though Hermione wouldn’t go doing… things with Ron if she knew people were pouring drugs into each other’s drinks, right? This was a common room, for God’s sake. An eighth year common room full of grown up students, but still, drugs!

'Haaaaarryyyyy!’ Luna’s round blue eyes stared at him through an unknown fog. She smiled widely, blinking once, twice… and bursting out laughing, most probably at Harry’s confused expression. 'Why aren’t we dancing?' 

'Dancing…' 

Luna giggled again, letting her arms move lazily, tangling in her long purple skirt. 

He could bet the fabric was enchanted, twirling so beautifully in the air like that. Harry stared for longer than he’d planned to, realizing much too late that Luna had already stopped and was eyeing him, her bright eyes fixed on Harry’s feet.  

'Well, you’re already dancing’ she tugged at his sleeve, pulling him with her towards the center of the room. It wasn’t his fault that his feet wouldn’t obey his brain, choosing instead to follow the beat, - louder as Harry approached the crowd - tapping frantically to it. the absence of Ron and Hermione brought a weird feeling to his stomach. He downed the rest of his drink quickly, butterflies replacing the sensation immediately. If they could enjoy the night, so could him, he thought to himself, relaxing his shoulders as best as he could. 

Harry opened his eyes without noticing he’d closed them, his whole body electrified with the feeling of being carried away by the music. Luna was dancing with Ginny now, her girlfriend, Harry had to remind himself, smiling a bit. If anyone else were to end up with Ginny, Harry would probably be a bit worried - after all he cared about her - but Luna was Luna, someone who treated Ginny like a flower, giving her the space she needed to grow. 

The music changed again, a faster song now was drumming through the soles of his feet. Harry turned around, letting himself once again be sweapt away. He could blame in on the alcohol later. 

***

And the drugs someone had put in his drink. Not just anyone, apparently, since Pansy kept giving him and Blaise that awful smile that could be easily translated as 'I’m being a Slytherin right now’. He looked at his feet for the tenth time in less than five minutes, the bloody thing tapping to that nauseating beat. Draco growled, marching towards the poorly improvised dance floor where his friend kept rubbing herselft all over Theo Nott. 

'What did you put in it?’ Draco inquired, lifting his chin as high as he could to emphasize his height. Pansy rolled her eyes, her arms still hooked around Theo’s neck. 

'Where?’ she turned around slightly to face Draco.

'My drink’ he forced the words to come out, all his strengh focused on keeping his feet still.

Pansy cackled, exchanging a knowing look with the other boy before returning her eyes to Draco. He was still frowning at her, distracted enough that he didn’t have time to fight back Theo’s tight grip on his waist.

Before he knew what was happening, Draco was dancing, squeezed between Pansy on his front and Nott on his back. 

'Just relax, Draco’ she whispered in his ear, thankfully backing away a bit.

'You know you want this’ Theo whispered too, making the hair on his nape stand almost immediately. The boy took a step back, leaving enough space for Draco to run. Not that he would, he most certainly couldn’t.

The sensation was exhilarating. Dancing, he remembered himself, though what he knew about dancing had nothing to do with that. Wizards - well named wizards - took part at ballroom dancing, with proper pairs, slowly, not to the beat of muggle music in crowded spaces. What he was doing seemed so… dirty. He looked around, noticing how no one appeared to care about traditional morals at all. Most surprisingly, no one seemed to care that Draco didn’t care, because at that very moment, as the music resonated through him, he didn’t. He closed his eyes again, letting his head roll around his neck, the tension easily slipping away. So Draco danced, he danced like he expected his father to burst throught the portrait at any second to ruin everything. And when Pansy pushed another one of those - horrenduous - red cups in his hand, he downed it all in one go.

'Come’ Pansy guided him towards one corner of the room that seemed to be even more crowded than the dancefloor. A long wooden table, much like those found in the Great Hall, but a lot smaller, was circulated by students, whistling and shouting at-

'What the fuck’ Draco was sure he was gaping. 

One of the Patil girls and Lavender Brown were dancing on top of it, their skirts so short Draco could bet those closer to the table could see everything underneath it. That was when he spotted a familiar face.

Blaise was on the front row, winking and smirking at Brown, who pretended not to notice him. Draco eyed Pansy, her anger tangible. 

'Can’t let that bitch steal my boys, can I?’

Shit, Draco knew that look.

'Pansy-’ the girl ignored him, pulling at his sleeve and forcing her way through the mass until they reached the table. 

'Just look at them, Draco, poor things’ It was obvious she wasn’t talking to him, her eyes fixed on Patil and Brown. From where they stood the girls could hear them perfectly, as it was proven when they both turned their attentions to Pansy, fumming.

'Fuck off, Parkinson’ Brown seemed wild, like she could jump Pansy at any moment. It was almost funny that they didn’t stop dancing despite the tension in the air. 

'Are you afraid of a little competition, dear?’ Pansy’s smile was wicked and Draco couldn’t help the little smirk forming on his lips. Competition wasn’t exactly the right word for that, because Pansy wasn’t one to play fair. 

Patil turned around to get out of the table, worried eyes darting from Pansy to her friend. Brown, however, didn’t seem like backing away, her hips continuously swaying as she blowed a kiss in Blaise’s direction. Blaise whistled, his dazzling smile encouraging Brown to come closer and she did, ignoring the Slytherin girl completely.

The sound of fabric being ripped in half was followed by something flying straight to Blaise’s face. Draco couldn’t see what it was at first, everyone around him trying to take a look as well while Pansy laughed so loud some of the students at the dancefloor were sending her curious looks. 

Brown got out of the table immediately, her face livid with absolute rage, completely red from embarassment. Draco thought for a second she was going to hex them, but she turned around and ran upstairs to the girls room, followed by Patil who seemed horrified. 

That was when Draco saw Blaise struggling to remove the pink knickers glued to his face. 

'You wicked bitch’ Draco snorted, half amused and half disgusted. Pansy grinned at him, used to Draco’s sweet words after years of friendship.

A new song had started to play, the beat not as fast as the last one, but definitely sexier. Pansy took off her heels, throwing them carelessly to the side.

'You’re coming up with me' 

She got up on the table, taking the Gryffindor’s place. Pansy danced like a Slytherin, which meant all eyes were glued on her the second she swayed her hips. Draco rolled his eyes, still too drunk to make rational decisions apparently, and followed her. It was… intimidating, if not terrifying, to have so many people staring at him from below. Empowering too, now that he could think about it. He started to move, smirking as a few of Pansy’s admirers turned their eyes to him instead, some completely shocked to see Draco Malfoy dancing on top of a table. Whatever, he didn’t have the energy to worry about it that night. 

'Someone bring Harry!' 

The words resonated inside his head and Draco felt all color leave his face. He searched the faces below him, desperately trying to identify who had said that. 

Pansy kept dancing unfazed by his side. Maybe, if he was lucky, she wouldn’t notice if he disappeared in the middle of the crowd. He could try to run upstairs and spend the rest of-

The crowd opened in front of him so Finnigan could push Potter to the front row. 

Green eyes locked with grey as the beat changed again.  

No, Draco felt his face hot, his whole body fervent. That was the first time he’d seen Potter since the trial, in which he was condemned to house arrest until the begginig of his eighth year. Draco had had time to think, plenty of time and silence to think about what he’d done. What Potter had done. Gratitute wasn’t something Draco was ready to feel, but it’d assaulted him nonetheless. The thing was, allowing himself to feel thankful for what he’d done altered the whole way he saw Potter now.

No, he thought again, as Potter took a step forward.

***

He should run away, turn around and leave. Malfoy was right there in front of him, and he wasn’t ready. Those eyes were the only ones capable of seeing through him, making Harry feel small. He didn’t know why, after all it wasn’t like Malfoy felt any more confident them himself. He looked as desperate as Harry to leave, hide.

He took another step forward, the beat vibrating under his skin. 

'Let’s see who does it better!’ Parkinson suddenly said, followed by a round of whistles and applauses. The girl jumped off the table after winking at Malfoy who seemed about to faint.  'You look scared, Potter. Think you can handle a dancing competition?’ Harry stared at her, gaping because even though Parkinson had already apologized to him, more than once after trying to hand him over to Voldemort the previous year, he was almost sure that didn’t classify them as friends now. She winked again, at him this time, gesturing towards the table.

Malfoy was still staring at him, his feet tapping to the beat contrasting with the rest of his tense body. The drugs, Harry thought to himself while Seamus practically threw him on top of the table. Malfoy had taken them too, apparently. That’s why he’s not running away either… he can’t

Harry got up, the height enough to make him self aware of the huge amount of people staring expectantly at them. Fuck, why did that beat seem so different than the rest? He turned his head to the side, meeting Malfoy’s eyes again. 

'It’s just dancing’ Harry found himself whispering, loud enough for Malfoy to hear, but not the front row of people. They were still staring at each other, making it seem like Harry’s words were meant to be some sort of confort to Malfoy when, in fact, Harry spoke them more to himself. Surprisingly, Malfoy’s shoulders relaxed a bit at that, his shocked expression distracting him enough that his body started moving again. Harry let it wash over him, the music replacing the anxiety bublling in his stomach. It was just dancing, and competing with Malfoy wouldn’t hurt, not this time. 

'Is this the best you can do, Potter?’ the words sent electric waves to his body, firing him up like only Malfoy could. It didn’t matter that there were people staring at him, watching his every move. Malfoy had just challenged Harry, like old times and, fuck, he’d missed this. 

His whole body turned towards the blond, instinctively, Harry’s hands flying to the hem of his hoody and yanking it from the top of his head. People cheered around him and Harry let a smirk form in his lips.

'You wish, Malfoy’

He knew the black shirt he had underneath was a bit too tight - who knew he’d be forced to take the bloody hoddie off - but the way Malfoy’s eyes roamed over his torso had Harry gulping with a dry throat.

'Like what you see?’ Fuck, what was wrong with him? The alcohol, Harry reminded himself resentfully. 

Malfoy, however, took that as a challenge, not an offense as Harry had expected.

He swayed his hips, a wicked smile on his face, and took a step forward.
'Do you?’ his eyes were fixed on Harry’s again.

The thing was, there wasn’t that much space between them in the first place. Now, there was no space at all. 

Malfoy swayed his hips again, brushing their thighs. People went wild with that, encouraging him when he opened the two last buttons of his shirt, exposing a tiny bit of his belly. 

This can’t be Malfoy

Harry’s brain was short circuiting. Malfoy had that look on his face, wicked, completely in control, and this time Harry had to admit he was. Because the moment Malfoy stood with his back to everyone else and forced another button to pop open, offering a complete vision of his navel only for Harry to see, Harry’s body bucked forward without his consent, the heat of Malfoy’s skin radiating through the black fabric of Harry’s shirt where they touched.  

With that, Harry wasn’t dancing against Malfoy anymore, he was dancing with him. 

Malfoy’s arms came to rest on Harry’s shoulders, bringing them even closer. Harry could hear a few gasps, but they were muffled by the whistles and cheers.

It didn’t matter. He felt dizzy and couldn’t blame it on the drugs anymore. He couldn’t stop, they couldn’t stop, the beat so brilliant Harry could bet his heartbeat was in sync with it.  And Malfoy… Malfoy was pressed against him, his hair tickling Harry’s cheek and his hot breath making Harry’s lips tingle.

Harry glanced around, realizing most people who had been watching them seemed to be as lost in the music as they were. 

He wouldn’t waste a second this time.

***

Draco lost his balance when Potter suddenly backed away. He tried to even his breath, his mind a complete mess, trying to predict if Potter was going to hex him, or worse, mock him, when a firm grip on his wrist brough his attention back. Potter was pulling him with him, quietly signaling to one end of the table that seemed to be the only way out. Draco followed, much to his own surprise because who knew if Potter wasn’t going to hex him where no one could see?

Back to firm ground again, Draco was immediately pinned against the closest wall, the darkest corner of the room.

Potter kept moving, dancing against him.

'Malfoy… Can I-’

He bucked his hips again, the apparent bulge in his pants pressing against Draco’s in the best way possible. Draco gasped, his eyes never leaving Potter’s. It was dark, but not enough that he couldn’t see the way his pupils dilated when his hand pressed against Draco’s hard crotch through his pants.

His moan was muffled my Potter’s lips devouring his mouth, biting and licking like a hungry beast. 

Their kiss was filled with all the tension both boys carried on their shoulders. It wasn’t soft, it was bruising, both of them relishing every trace of animosity and regret. Draco could feel himself burning and melting in it, at the way Harry’s hand dig his nails in his thigh, bringing it up around his hip; at the way  Harry pressed against him, pinning Draco completely to the wall.

Potter backed away slightly, enough for them to breath before kissing him again, slower this time. Draco threaded his fingers in the black locks, bringing Harry as close as he could while his other thigh was lifted to wrap around Harry’s waist. Harry’s hand supported him there, firmly pressed against the wall and- Fuck, Draco felt the whole lengh of it, rubbing up and down, up and down against his- 

'OKAY EVERYONE!! PARTY’S OVER!’

The lights were suddenly  turned on, lighting up the common room completely. Several complaints arose from all sides, intensified when the music was gone.

It took Harry two seconds to realize that the force that was compelling him to dance was no longer there, and that it had nothing to do with his desire to press his body against Malfoy’s. What he did not know was if he should be relieved or scared when Malfoy did not seem to want to leave either, his hips rolling over Harry’s in the most delightful way possible, the friction sending small shocks of pleasure up his spine. 

Someone gasped beside him, the noise enough to bring them both back to their senses. Their mouths parted, breaking the kiss and leaving Malfoy’s red and swollen lips to show as proof of what they had been doing, of what Harry had done. 

He’d kissed Malfoy. Harry Potter had kissed Draco Malfoy willingly. There were no drugs, just the enchanted music, he realized, and it wasn’t enough to explain why he felt that pang in his chest when Malfoy turned around and ran, leaving Harry to face all his shocked classmates alone.

***

Next (and last) part coming up soon!

2

re/concilation. | Chat Noir/Adrien Agreste x Reader


Your chin found the palm of your hand - your cheeks inflating as you released another heavy sigh. Disappointment; fear, and anger built within you–the utmost strife twisting your stomach. Subsequent to your audible sigh; you separated your palm from your chin - waving it lazily. “Whatever–save your excuses and go already.” Ultimate remorse and sadness reflected in Adrien’s gaze - his mouth twitching awkwardly to keep from frowning.

“I’m really sorry about this. I’ll try to be back as soon as possible.” He pressed his lips to your cheek softly; causing you to fight back the urge to jerk away and act hostile. None of this was his fault–you hoped. You knew deep down that even he had secrets to hide, and that thought is the only reason you kept your faith in him so long.

“See you later then, Adrien.”

However; you were beginning to have second thoughts regarding his ‘disappearances’. Some times - you would catch him talking to a classmate with big, round blue eyes. You were an average girl, and Adrien was a cute popular guy – the possibility of him seeing another girl crossed your mind many times.

You shook your head lightly; raising your hand to wave the waiter over. At that exact moment he made his appearance - you were standing from your seat at the set table. “I’m taking my leave now.”

“If that’s what you wish; but, won’t your boyfriend be back soon?”

“Nope.” Came your immediate reply - accompanied with a stern shake of the head. “I’d rather save myself the time. Oh, and as for the bill - you can put it on the Agreste’s tab.”

“Will do. Thank you for coming and have a safe trip.”




“You don’t mind if I head off now right?”

The female adorned in red completed with black dots turned to look at him - a soft grin decorating her face. “Well look at you–found something more important than the city of Paris huh?”

His face flushed as he scratched the back of his neck with both hands - his mouth opening and closing in an effort to form words. As the former superhero let out a hearty laugh at his flustered appearance - he looked down, hoping to hide his face behind raised arms.

“Well, you aren’t denying it.” Her smile dropped as she glanced down at the dotted spray bottle in her hand–the item she’d gained from Lucky Charm in battle. “This is probably a bad time to bring this up–but I..know who you are in real life..?”

The blonde looked her in the eye once more - anxiety making his stomach churn. “Is it that obvious?”

“No–but what my point is; I’ve approached you quite a lot in my regular form..hoping you’d get the message. Now, I’ve realized that I can’t hope for that anymore - because you have someone you already love.” She fiddled with the bottle in her hands as her gaze averted from his. “Even so, our time together is limited just like yours with her is. So don’t make her wait.”

“You’re the one who stopped me..” He muttered, gazing up to the night sky. Immediately annoyed - the female superhero pointed the spray bottle at him; his hands flailing at the air above him instantaneously. “Don’t point that at me!”

With a soft sigh, her arm dropped to her side - her other hand coming up to place itself on her forehead. She forced a smile - shaking her head slightly. “You’re unbelievable.”

The boy who stood opposite of her took notice of this straightaway - a small frown stretching his lips whilst he lowered his arms. “A few weeks ago - I would’ve been ecstatic to hear that, because believe it or not–I had a crush on you. But now; I can’t even imagine what my life would be like without (Y/N)..”

Her eyes only continued to water as he took her hand in his - moving it away from her forehead to place a light kiss there.

“I’m sorry.” He then muttered, taking his leave.

“..You’re not.”



The superhero donned in black stopped on a roof-top just southwest of your house - blending into the shadows of the night. Though he stood a few moments away - he could tell that you had already changed into your pajamas and were getting ready for bed.  

Once again - the boy was coming to visit you late at night; in his superhero form as well. He stopped to look down at his hand - taking note of how much time he had left before continuing to progress to the house he recognized as yours.

Careful to not step on the small pots scattered across the balcony floor - he stepped around them quietly until he reached the white symmetric doors.

You stood just on the other side - your hands brushing upwards through your hair as you concentrated on the mirror in front of you. However; when he tapped lightly on the door made mostly out of glass–you jumped, letting your hair fall back into it’s original style.

“Chat Noir? What are you doing here this late?” You questioned, opening both doors to step out onto the balcony.

“Ah, it’s not that late. And isn’t it obvious?” Though directed at you–his question was rhetoric - a small smile appearing on his face as he tapped your nose. “I came to see you.”

You hummed lightly, blinking in slight surprise to his sudden affectionate nature. “Are you sure you aren’t just lonely?”

The taller male deadpanned; a mixture of annoyance and disappointment reflecting in his eyes–similarly to Adrien’s, you noticed. His mouth opened to say something in response - but you cut him off.

“I am.” You sighed through your nose. “My boyfriend had to ditch again today - and instead of embarrassing myself again like the first time–I left right after him.”

The blonde’s heart slightly clenches upon hearing this - a few negative thoughts swarming in his mind. “Well, if I were you - I would’ve ordered a bunch of food and stuff to make the bill higher as revenge.”

A few giggles left your form before he even finished speaking; the small giggles only becoming more audible as he did. “That’s not really a bad idea.” You then paused - replaying his words over in your head. “Uhm..Chat Noir, you’re not stalking me are you?”

The boy in question tensed and his face went red; fearing he said the wrong thing. “What do you mean?”

“How did you know I went to a place where I could 'order food’?”

“Well excuse me dear princess. As I don’t know know much about dates. All you do is go to a restaurant and eat right?”

You rolled your eyes - leaning your elbow onto the railing to place your chin in your palm. “There are other types of dates you know.”

“Oh?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

“Dates are basically when you and another go out to some place with a happy heart–enjoying both their presence and the activities. You can go almost anywhere and make it a date; movie date, Waterpark date, fair date–as long as you enjoy it I guess.”

At the lift of one corner of his lips and the wiggling of his eyebrows - you basically knew what he was going through his head. “Is this a date then?”

“No way dude, we’re still at my home.”

You were both then enveloped in silence - content with the soft noises the late night had to offer. The night was very peaceful - even with the faint engine noises that were just a few miles away. Chat Noir had his eyes closed; completely immersing himself into the sounds of the night.

You on the other hand, began to drown in negative thoughts; the silence giving you the pleasure of hearing such things loud and clear. After taking a shaky breath - you spoke up again.

“Chat Noir, can I tell you something?”

“Yeah, sure.” He hummed, his eyes remaining closed.

“I sorta wish I could date you–because you seem to be around more. The thing is..I’ve been having all sorts of negative thoughts when it comes to my boyfriend’s disappearances..and I’m starting to have thoughts about separating from him.”

His harlequin colored eyes shot open; a look of distress showing on his entire face. The thought of you breaking up with him was unbearable - why couldn’t he visit you more ad himself than Chat Noir? He couldn’t hate himself anymore than he did in this exact moment; the fact that he couldn’t kiss you still - is slowly driving him insane.

“It’s not that I don’t love him or anything; it’s just..whatever he runs out there to is clearly more important than I am.” You quickly blinked thrice before turning your head away all together. “And lately..I’ve even wondered if he were seeing other girls - maybe I’m just too boring or something for him. Honestly I just–”

“Stop talking.”

When turning to look at him as you did just moments before; a lone tear escaped your left eye - wetting your cheek as it slides down. He steps closer - his stern gaze meeting yours when he wipes the tear away.

“Why would you ever think about separating from him? That’s only gonna cause more problems than you have right now. Think about how he feels–he will be heartbroken. I’m sure that he loves you more than all of Paris combined - and you’re just gonna throw it all away like that?”

Tears are now falling from your eyes quickly; your lip quivering as you try desperately to wipe them away. “I don’t mean–I just..I-I can’t..” You choke back tears - struggling to form a reasonable sentence.

“Great..I’ve made two girls cry in one night..”

“W-What?” You inquired - sniffing.

“Nevermind.” He imprisoned you against his chest, rubbing small circles in your back - tightening the hug. “It’s just..he returned your feelings right? Even with all that he has to deal with - he wants to be with you, cherish you, and most importantly–love you. (Y/N), look at me.”

You did as told - blinking away more tears to look up at him clearly.

“What if he goes out to save all of Paris everyday?” Chat Noir’s forehead rested on yours; noses pressed together and lips lightly grazing over each other as he spoke. “What if he would give all of that up just for you?”

Pink tinted your cheeks - his words sticking to repeat inside your head, causing your heart rate to increase excessively. “And what if…that’s not the case?”

You watched as he closed his eyes, processing your words carefully. A barely audible beeping was then heard from his hand that rested on the small of your back - catching his full attention.

“So..mind describing this boyfriend of yours?”

“Huh?”

“I..think I saw someone heading this way a little while back–he had blonde hair.”

You then put distance between the both of your faces, disbelief written on your features. “What? That’s impossible - he’d be at home at this hour, why–”

Chat Noir’s gloved finger pressed against your lips. “Shh, Listen.”

Listening closely to the unknown as you possibly could–you blinked up at the taller hero. After a few moments of silence; the familiar tune of your doorbell sounded, alerting you of the guest that stood at the door.

“Oh, look at that–he’s here already.” He muttered, pulling away from the embrace. He then leapt onto the railing - offering a soft smile before jumping off the balcony entirely.

“I’ll get it!” Deciding not to waste anymore time than you already did; you then sprinted downstairs - coming to an abrupt halt upon reaching the door. You encased the cool brass doorknob between your fingers, but paused.

The prior conversation you held with Chat Noir made you reflect on the past few days - and how you’d acted so cold towards the one that was actually trying. Would he be angry–why was he even here?

You shook these thoughts away, instead continuing to unlock the door. Slowly but surely; you started to pull on the doorknob.

The door was open part-way when you began to speak. “Uhm, Adrien I–”

The boy in question interrupts your sentence as he forces the door open fully - his hands finding your face. His grip tightened ever so slightly; his lips colliding with yours quickly–and almost painfully. He deepened the kiss with the tilt of his head - your eyes squeezing shut, and mouth opening slightly as you returned the forceful kiss.

Finally; he pulled away - the sight of the thin string of saliva connected to your mouths causing your face to flush.

My first kiss..

Though flustered - you took notice of Adrien’s messy hair; distressed gaze, and shortage of breath. “A-Are you ok? Did you run here?”

Adrien hung his head - taking deep breaths. “I nearly broke my neck trying to get here.”

You deadpanned - placing your hands over his that rested on your cheeks. “Then–”

“Don’t worry about that.” He pulls you into another stern kiss.“I’m gonna spend the night here to apologize for all those times I had to cancel important dates.” He pushed your hands away forcefully; lifting your face to gaze into your eyes.

“I’m gonna love you all night long.”

You were sure that your entire body was then flushed–because you felt completely warm all over. “Adrien! That sounds so wrong!”

He quirks an eyebrow; tilting his head as he replayed his previous words in his head. Shrugging soon after, he began to litter your cheeks in kisses. “I promise to try and do better. I promise.” He repeated - a kiss for every word he spoke.

“You don’t have to..” You muttered quietly, not wanting to interrupt him.

“No matter what happens..” Adrien started - pulling you into an embrace. “I will always love you, (Y/N).”




I’M SORRY

ANGST WAS NEEDED - SO ANGST YOU WILL GET

I HAD TO–ANGST IS JUST IN MY GENES OR SOMETHIN’

AND YEAS MARINETTE INTENDED TO BREAK YOUR RELATIONSHIP

CUE TEARS AND ANGSTY APOLOGIZING SCENE

P.S. I WAS CRYING TOO WHILE WRITING THAT CONFESSION SCENE

(insert Lenny face here)

So~sis~~ still want me to do that request? (tell me later tho, I’m still writing)

I’ve killed two birds with one stone! Firstly; this request was special–and I finished it quite quickly!! Now onto the other requests!

Secondly; my sister said that she wanted to make my oneshots more “realistic” and by that she said “[They must be] sexy” and “have your 'psychological’ impacts too!”

Say no more my dear child.
Muahaha~

(Darn gif ain’t the right size)

Imagine by; @animerocks00

Oneshot by; @animerocks00

Requested by; Anonymous ( )

Proofread and Refurbished by; No one yet ;_;

3

(x)

She got slowly to her feet, her legs feeling like they’d aged ten years, and carried her baby back to her cot. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” she whispered as she laid her down, and round blue eyes opened to meet hers.

A delighted smile spread slowly across Effie’s face, half-asleep and drowsy, and she lifted a little hand in the air, reaching for her mother’s face, tiny fingers and nails catching the blue-white glow from outside. “Mama,” she mumbled contentedly, her hand stretching through the air. A shuddering groan clawed its way out of Céilí’s throat. It felt like she was turning cold from the inside, like her heart was pumping icewater around her body instead of blood. She lowered her head into the cot and kissed the fingers that clumsily stroked over her cheek and nose.

“People are going to tell you a lot of things,” she whispered through the dark, and Effie cooed happily. “They’ll try to tell you otherwise, but this is the truth; I loved you. I love you. Don’t let them tell you I didn’t.” Her voice broke, and she pressed a soft pink bunny into her baby’s hands and stroked her hair until her eyes closed.

As an afterthought, she unclasped the necklace Ellery had given her on their wedding night and tucked it into the silver box on Effie’s dressing table.

She waited until her daughter was asleep and then she packed her bags and slipped through the house, silent footsteps over the stone, to call a cab.

The Witness

by: mldrgrl
Rated: PG-13
Summary:  Mulder and Scully work together to solve the murder of a young woman and take a witness into protective custody.

Author’s Note:  I’m not one for author’s notes, but I feel compelled to give a bit of a warning on this one.  This is my attempt at a casefile, and it’s more something you might find on SVU than X-Files, so proceed with caution.  If SVU makes you uncomfortable, don’t read it.  Also, it’s a bit of a departure from my normal style.  I really wanted this to feel more like an episode and less like a story.  So, no getting into anyone’s head here.  What you see is what you get…


October 27, 1999 12:24 a.m.
Old Town Alexandria, VA

The woman flailed her arms helplessly, searching blindly for something - anything - to fight her attacker.  Her windpipe was squeezed so tightly shut that her face was nearly purple.  The oxygen deprivation made her limbs heavier and heavier as her life slipped away.  Before going completely still, she rolled her eyes to the side, looking away from the dark face of her killer.  Her struggle for breath ended with the crack of her neck.

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Keep reading

45. “I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

A/N: I don’t know what happened– I went to save the ask as a draft and it disappeared. So sorry, I do not know who requested this! Please comment and let me know. I found it! @mazikeen Thank you for the prompt! A/N2: Another drabble! I hope you like it. :)

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For a moment, Thranduil looked fierce, a wild thing protecting his territory.  It was the dead of night, and his door sidled open, softly, but Thranduil’s keen hearing detected the sound.

Ready to expel the bold intruder who dared to enter his rooms unbidden, Thranduil stole out of his bed and into the shadows, shrugging into a robe as he did. Peering across the darkened room, he saw a slender figure and gasped, recognition slackening his scowl–

“Legolas?” Thranduil asked, as he stepped into the swath of moonlight on the floor.

Legolas started in surprise, then hurried towards him, his eyes round and worried.

“What are you doing up at this hour?” Thranduil asked. There was no good reason his son should be awake now, and so he frowned as Legolas raced across the room.

“Ada,” Legolas said with a fraught expression, and launched himself at his father, clasping him tightly.  

Thranduil was stunned, but bent to encircle his son in his arms, holding his beloved child close.  Legolas made little gasping noises, burying his nose into his middle, and Thranduil realized he was crying, though trying very hard not to.

It pained him some to discover that his son felt he should hide his feelings from him.  Even a few years ago this wouldn’t have been true.  Legolas’s happy and inquisitive nature overrode any shame he might feel, but nothing could change the fact that his elfling was growing up.

Somewhere in the transition from child to adolescent, Legolas had learned to be self conscious of his emotions. Joy still shone through– the child couldn’t help his nature– like sunshine bursting free of the clouds, but in learning discipline and order, he thought to stifle his other feelings.

From watching me, Thranduil thought. He felt sorrow for it, but he knew no other way for a king to be.

Thranduil’s astonishment at his son’s outburst, yielded to concern. What monsters had hurt his little leaf? Thranduil would slay them all. “What is it, ion-nin?” he asked, smoothing his hand over Legolas’s scalp, resting at the base of his neck.

“I am sorry,” Legolas whimpered.  “It is very childish and stupid, my lord, but I cannot help it.”

Thranduil’s heart hurt to hear Legolas addressing him formally, to show respect and put distance between them that propriety dictated.

Legolas was at that age between childhood and young adulthood. He strove everyday to act grown up, yet was still a child.  It was very important that he be taken seriously, and he would be wounded if Thranduil dismissed his feelings.

“It must not be either of those things to upset you so,” Thranduil replied. “Tell me. I will not ridicule.”  He pulled back enough to crouch at Legolas’s feet to better see his face, and held in his surprise when he realized how tall his son had grown. In another year or two, he would be too big for such a gesture.

“I had a nightmare about you,” Legolas whispered, “and I just wanted to make sure you are okay.”

“What did you dream about?” Thranduil asked.

Legolas was quiet for a long moment, only shaking his head as he gathered his thoughts. Thranduil waited as patiently as he could for his son to speak.

“I dreamed I was in the woods, playing,” Legolas said, then frowned. “No, not playing– on patrol.”

Legolas was too young to go on patrol. It would be another twenty years before he reached the age of maturity, but Thranduil did not interrupt him with that fact.  

“You were on patrol, and then what?” Thranduil prompted.

“There was a stag and I followed him, chasing and laughing with the other elves. We ran through the woods, hardly noticing when it got darker,” Legolas said, “but it did.”

“I didn’t see the pit and I fell down and down impossibly long until the sky was ash and the air thick and I landed in mud. I was surrounded on all sides by muck and swamp. I saw the stag, his great antlers protruding from the mire. He was sinking. I lumbered towards him but was weighted down by the mud, water, and marsh plants. I couldn’t reach him in time. He sank under.

“When I got closer–,” Legolas’s voice choked off. Emotion warred across his face as he struggled to remain composed, but ultimately Legolas lost to it, his brow creasing in anguish as he heaved a sob.

“He’s you– the stag is you. You’re floating under the water. And I can’t– I can’t reach you– my hands are bound, held back by the weeds, my feet rooted by the mud– and you’re under the water– I can see you, but I can’t touch you. And you’re sinking, and so still, and floating away from me and I can’t– I can’t–.”

Thranduil threw his arms around him and pulled Legolas close. “Shhh, it’s alright,” Thranduil soothed. “You have me now, my love.”

Legolas wept openly, wailing dolefully into Thranduil’s neck.  The king swayed his child tenderly, trying to soothe his anguished heart with a strong embrace and gentle reassurances.

Legolas’s dream summoned images from his own memories.

The Dead Marshes, Thranduil thought and went still. Dagorlad.  

Elven history was part of Legolas’s lessons, and the young prince was just beginning to realize his father’s part in it.  It had been amusing when Legolas realized just how old his father was, his scant three decades of life uncomprehending of multiple millennia.

However, there was nothing amusing about this.

The battle of Dagorlad marked one of the most harrowing times in his long life. Thranduil could not think on it without feeling intense pain in his heart. The knowledge of this history should have been imparted on Legolas with great care, if not for his own young mind, but out of respect for Thranduil.

How Legolas learned about this without my consent, I do not know, Thranduil thought. There are more pressing concerns at the moment.

Thranduil’s mind raced, but there was no time for his own grief. Legolas was distressed and needed him to be present right now.

You were dead,” Legolas whispered. “I was too late. I was useless.”

Thranduil sat back on his heels, pulling away only enough to look into his eyes. His son could not know these words echoed his own from thousands of years ago on that battlefield when he’d found Oropher’s body. They were destructive, and useless words themselves, with no place in Legolas’s young mind.

“You had a bad dream,” Thranduil replied. “But that is all it is. I am not dead, nor are you too late, nor are you useless.”

It was obvious anxiety caused Legolas’s dream, his young mind reeling from what he had learned, the horror of it too much to process.

“I do not know what I would do if– if I lost you, too,” Legolas said through his tears, and he heaved an ugly sob into his arm.

Thranduil felt his own sentiment rise up, tightening his throat, but he swallowed it down, focusing on the fierce love he had for this little elf.

“You will not lose me, my love,” Thranduil said, rubbing up and down his arms, trying to comfort his son, but his words had the opposite effect.

“You cannot promise!” Legolas cried, yanking his arms free. “Nana died. Your ada died. I read about it in the book! What could stop you from dying next?”

Ah, my little scholar is reading ahead of his lessons, Thranduil thought. When Legolas was curious about something, he could be as persistent as a dog with a bone. Perhaps Legolas had thought reading about war would prepare him to be a soldier. Lately, he had been very interested in what grown ups do. Thranduil would have to remember to ask him about it later.

The Dead Marshes were macabre even to the most dauntless of soldiers, let alone a child with a vivid imagination. Corpses drifted in the murky water, anchored by rotting weeds that sprouted up like gnarled hands to tether the bodies an easy length from the surface, taunting the living with failure and loss. Despair dwelled in that moor, its legacy of sorrow bequeathed to all who had looked upon it.

Thranduil had many sleepless nights after he had returned from the Dead Marshes on a fool’s errand to see if Oropher floated among the disturbed bodies there. Though he had blessedly not found his father, what Thranduil had seen would haunt him for the rest of his days.

This is not the way I intended for Legolas to learn about his grandfather, Thranduil thought. I need to mend this if I can.

Thranduil remembered all too well the pain of losing his home, of losing his father, of losing his comrades, of losing his wife– so much loss in his long life, more than many elves experience.

I must banish my own bereavement from my mind, Thranduil thought. I must not dwell on my losses but instead on what I have learned from them.

“Without you, I’ll be all alone,” Legolas whispered, blue eyes round, and red-rimmed with tears.  “What would I do if you weren’t here with me?”

Thranduil took Legolas’s hands in his own, squeezing gently.  Such a stricken question from one so young, Thranduil thought. Elves were supposed to live for all time. That they did not, was the great tragedy of their kind.

“We cannot know what life will bring us,” Thranduil said. “It is okay to worry sometimes, Legolas. You are more capable than you realize, But there are some things we cannot control.  All we can do is enjoy life one day at a time, the best we can. Will you try to remember that?”

Legolas sniffled and nodded, and gasped, “I will try. But I am afraid, ada.”

“It is alright to be afraid, Legolas,” Thranduil replied. “We may lose people we love, but we will never lose the love they leave behind. As long as you remember that, you will always have me, and your naneth.”

Taking shuddering breathes, Legolas nodded, attempting to accept his father’s words.  “Nana loved me,” he said. “I know that. I remember.”

“You are dearly loved,” Thranduil replied.  “You are my heart, ion-nin.”

A smile brightened Legolas’s face. Throwing his arms around Thranduil’s neck, Legolas flung himself at his father, hugging him with all his might.  

Thranduil chuckled and held onto him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.  “One day, when you are older, I will tell you about the war,” Thranduil whispered, “but for now, slow down.  Do not rush these years.”

Legolas was a sniffling, red faced mess, gasping and wiping his wet face on his sleeve.

Resisting the urge to gather Legolas up in his arms and hold him like he had when he was toddling, Thranduil instead tugged gently at his hand.

“Come with me,” he said and guided Legolas towards his bathing chamber.

Thranduil brought a handkerchief to his face, prompting him to blow his nose. Pouring cool water into a basin he soaked a cloth and washed Legolas’s face, trying to ease some of the tension in his tiny brow.  

It had been a while since Thranduil had cared for Legolas like this. Feelings of both shame and pride rose up in him. How long it had been, but Thranduil was here for his son now when Legolas needed his father.

“How does that feel?” Thranduil asked.

“Better, ada,” Legolas replied.

“Drink all of this,” Thranduil said handing him a glass of water, and Legolas gulped it down without hesitation.  

When there was nothing more to do, Legolas looked away and fidgeted, reluctant to leave. Perhaps Legolas felt he was too old to ask, even though Thranduil could tell he wanted to, so Thranduil asked for him, “Would you like to stay with me tonight?”

Relief flashed across Legolas’s face and he nodded with vigor, taking Thranduil’s hand in his own. Thranduil smiled and led Legolas into his room.  

Legolas hopped up onto the bed, bouncing a few times on the large mattress before settling into the side where his mother used to sleep. A smile curved Thranduil’s lips as he watched his son perform that lighthearted action, realizing Legolas was starting to feel better.

Thranduil shrugged out of his dressing gown, and laid it over the back of his chair, then climbed into the bed next to his son. No sooner had he laid down, did Legolas burrow closer to him, wriggling like a worm until he was safe in the sheltered space between Thranduil’s arm and side.

“Good night, ada,” Legolas whispered, yawning into his chest.

“Sleep well, ion-nin,” he replied.

Sleep would be difficult for both of them to come by that night. But as they lay in the bed, warmth pooling between them, Thranduil took his own advice and simply enjoyed being in the presence of his son.


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If you want to request a drabble, the list is here.

anonymous asked:

solangelo and #60? your writing is so good omg im jealous ❤️❤️❤️

Aaaaah! Thank you! I’m so sorry this took forever, I’ve had a crazy week this week and I haven’t had anytime to write! But, here it is!

Prompt: “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.”

Nico’s lungs filled with the choking scent of cigarettes and alcohol as he made his way to the bar. The pounding beat of a techno song reverberated through the oppressive crush of hot, sweaty bodies and into Nico’s skull. He finally reached the other end of the room, where a long,  forlorn-looking counter sat entertaining its few occupants.

Nico took a seat on one of the neglected barstools and asked the young woman behind the counter for a glass of water. She returned less than a minute later and handed him a glass, which he thanked her for before swiveling around to observe the activity at the opposite side of the space.

Drunken laughter mingled with the rumbling bass of the music. The crowd swayed and knocked against each other in a sort of joyful, haphazard dance. Slithering tendrils of purple-gray smoke rose from the assembly, while empty beer bottles rolled underfoot.

“I’ve not seen you here before,” an unfamiliar voice said. Nico whipped around to locate the source, and found himself face to face with a man who couldn’t have been much older than him.

He had golden hair that curled slightly and round blue eyes that glimmered with amusement. Freckles dusted the angular plains of his face, and a thin, white scar cut across his pointed chin. “You don’t come around here a lot, do you?” he asked. His voice was warm and mellifluous, almost musical.

“No, I’m not really one to frequent bars and clubs much,” Nico replied.

The boy raised an eyebrow, “Then what brought you here? Rough week?”

“No,” Nico replied, shaking his head. “More like my friend’s birthday.” He jutted his chin in the direction of the crowd, where Percy, Leo, and Jason were busy toppling over each other as they tried to keep up with the speeding rhythm of the song.

“Ah,” the boy replied.

Nico sipped his water and faced him, “So, what’s your name?”

“Will Solace,” the boy–Will–answered.

“And how’d you end up in this place?” Nico inquired.

“I’m a med student and finals are coming up, that’s all you need to know,” Will said. Nico chuckled and rested his elbow on the bar. There was something captivating about the way the light danced on Will’s sculpted features that left Nico unable to tear his eyes from him.

“How about I buy you a drink. Cheers to finals?” Nico offered.

A smirk flickered across Will’s lips. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.”

“S-so what if I am?” Nico stuttered, his cheeks coloring.

Will leaned forward. The glimmer in his blue eyes seemed more pronounced now. “Well, then I’d consider myself pretty damn lucky.”

Nico’s blush deepened, and his heart hammered in his chest. He opened his mouth to respond, but his voice died in his throat.

Suddenly, Will averted his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. “Shit, did I go too far?”

“No, no. You just caught me off guard that’s all,” Nico replied.

Will’s face relaxed into an easy smile, “What, you aren’t used to being flirted with?”

“People tend to avoid me,” Nico answered, shaking his head.

“You’re kidding me!” Will exclaimed. “With a face like yours I’d think you’d be fighting men and women off with a stick!”

Nico laughed. “No, they don’t seem to notice my natural charm,” he joked. 

“Well, their loss, then,” Will answered. He yawned and stretched his arms. 

“Tired, Solace?” Nico asked. 

“Yeah,” Will answered. “This place is exhausting.”

“Then go home,” Nico said. 

Will suddenly perked up at Nico’s words. “Oh, hell no,” Will replied. “Not without getting your number first!” He drew his phone from his pocket and held it out to Nico. 

“You want my number?” Nico asked in surprise. 

“Of course I want your number,” Will countered. 

Finally, Nico took the phone from Will and punched in his number before returning it. 

“I’m expecting a text from you sometime tonight, doctor’s orders.” Will said in a playful tone.

Nico rolled his eyes, “Whatever you say Will.”

He grinned, “Good night, Nico.” 

Nico smiled in return, “Good night, Will.”

With one last wave, Will turned and disappeared into the haze of smoke and bodies on the other side of the room, leaving Nico’s heart pounding louder than the beat of the music. 

The signs’ physical looks

Aries male: One of the most attractive guys, very masculine, healthy-looking, brown hair and brown eyes
Aries female: One of the most attractive girls, a bit masculine but still very hot, with a beautiful smile; Brown hair and pure hazel eyes

Taurus male: Skinny, sometimes chubby, a bit short but still beautiful, light brown/reddish curly hair, green eyes 
Taurus female: Either dark brown or red hair, black eyes, skinny and very attractive

Gemini male: Fit (but not too much) because always exercises, healthy-looking, tall, black hair always in a good condition, blue/grey eyes, very stylish
Gemini female: Skinny, sometimes fit, tall, dark hair and dark eyes, very elegant and stylish, has R-O-C-K-I-N-G eyebrows; 

Cancer male: Sometimes tall, sometimes not at all. Can be chubby, always has soft lines. Black or dark brown hair, black puppy eyes, tanned 
Cancer female: Very sweet, with an adorable smile, puppy eyes, likes to tan a lot but still pale, dark/light brown hair, not too expressed eyebrows

Leo male: Fit, masculine looking, black/golden thick hair, tanned and sunlight cannot burn their skin. Pure hazel/black/green eyes
Leo female: Skinny, short, thick and very beautiful hair, either golden or black, light/dark brown eyes

Virgo male: Light brown wavy hair, they are short-looking but aren’t actually that short, black eyes, soft lines and cute facial expressions
Virgo female: Straight hair, blue/green/light brown rounded eyes, eyebrows with perfect form but too light, angelic look, very feminine, has thigh gaps

Libra male: Hot, cool looking, always wants to dress in specific clothes, has a beard, thick eyebrows, short hair, green/blue eyes, not too fit but still good looking
Libra female: A bit chubby, always stylish, healthy light brown hair, wants to put make-up a lot

Scorpio male: Either very tall or very short, pale, either black or either blonde hair, interesting nose, small waist, green/blue/black eyes, looks a bit younger for their years (or should I say like a child), big cheekbones
Scorpio female: Sometimes very feminine, sometimes very masculine, either black or either light blonde hair, S_L_A_Y_I_N_G eyebrows, small eyes, big cheekbones

Sagittarius male: The award for best-looking zodiac sign goes to Sagittarius male AND female; brown hair, very very fit and good looking, striking light brown / green eyes, looks like they are gonna explode at any moment
Sagittarius female: The award for best-looking zodiac sign goes to Sagittarius male AND female; Green/blue/light brown eyes, the most striking look from all, perfect eyebrows, looks a bit untouchable

Capricorn male: Always wants to look sophisticated, always has a perfume on, tall, skinny, can be chubby or fat in the later years, glassy look, black/grey/brown eyes, either smiles a lot or doesn’t smile, dark hair
Capricorn female: Cold, glassy look, very attractive, interesting nose, perfect eyebrows, light grey/blue eyes, very skinny but can be a little bit chubby sometimes, elegant and feminine in her own way

Aquarius male: Likes to change their style a lot, short, not that thick, curly blonde or light brown hair, light eyes of any color, ugly nose but they’re still cute
Aquarius female: Small nose, very healthy looking, light eyes, straight or wavy blonde hair, tall 

Pisces male: Either very tall or a bit short; pale; skinny; very dark black or very light blonde hair, very small or very big blue/green/black/grey dreamy eyes, big nose, stylish in any segment of their lives, s-l-a-y-i-n-g jawline, thick and big lips, when they smile they might scare somebody because they look like a snake
Pisces female: The most feminine of them all, short or normal height, very pale and has a clean skin, interesting cheekbones and eyebrows, blue/grey/black dreamy eyes, either has no make-up or tons of it but is always cute and attractive

Continued from this post (last addition: lal-nila-syrin) [round robin guidelines here]

Castiel stilled, frowning. Fear was coming off the boy in obvious waves—why was this boy so afraid?

“Cas!” Sam’s voice bellowed from the other side of the door, and a second later there was the jiggling of the doorknob to try it, and then a bang as a fist hit it only semi-forcefully. “You’re not supposed to barge into other people’s—”

“Did he just angel himself in there?” Dean’s voice could be heard musing at a much quieter volume, though his tone was as equally perplexed as his brother’s. “And what the heck is this green thing, anyway? Is it supposed to stop us?”

If Danny had been less shocked at the fact that the winged man was inside his house, and was apparently not a ghost or anything of the intangible sort, he would have freaked out even more because right, the ghost shield doesn’t work on humans.

He looked around the room for anything that could be used as a weapon, but the heaviest thing in sight was one of Jazz’s psychology textbooks. Not helpful. And while the the control box for the house’s anti-intruder system was within reach if he caught the guy off guard, it was ectoplasm based and wouldn’t be able to stop him if the ghost shield hadn’t done a thing. Even his powers weren’t really designed to fight against non-ghosts.

He had nothing.

And he heard a light scratching at the door, now. The two men outside were trying to pick the lock. They were going to come in too. With their guns filled with real bullets and they were going to kill him.

“Stay back!” he yelled, voice shrill even to his own ears. “Don’t come in here; I’ll call the police!”

“Son of a…” a voice muttered, but the noises at the door stopped.

“Hey look… uh… Dan… Danny? Your name’s Danny right?” Sam asked.

Danny didn’t answer.

“Hey, kid,” Dean called through the door. After a moment, he sighed loudly and switched tracks. “Cas, you still there?”

The angel was still staring intently at the boy in front of him, trying to understand what he saw.  “Yes,” he finally answered.

“You’re not invading his personal space, are you? Remember, personal bubble… like we talked about?”

An Alyanette story for a-typical April! @larvesta and @breeeliss really inspired this story!

On AO3

“Hey Ladybug! Do you have a last name, or do you want mine?” Marinette blanched. She whipped around to see a smirking Alya, completely untouched by the utter chaos around her. Uncharacteristically, Alya wasn’t recording, in fact, it looked like she didn’t have her phone out at all. Marinette quickly tore through the ropes of caramel and over to her best friend.

    “Aly-I - you! This is the middle of an Akuma attack! You need to vacate the premise immediately! Are you hurt?” She rushed out, frantically looking around to ensure the Akuma was far away. “Wait. What did you ask me?”

    Alya let out a tinkling laugh, smirk stretching into an endeared grin.

    “I asked if you wanted my last name. I’d settle for a date if that was too much to ask.” She added with a wink, completely unaware to the grinding halt Marinette’s mind had screeched to.

    “I… are.. Are you hitting on me?” She asked, fully aware that if Chat had said the same thing it wouldn’t have been a blip on her radar. Alya laughed and Marinette couldn’t figure out why there were sirens going off in her head.

“Of course, who wouldn’t want to score a date with the cutest savior of Paris? I’ll let you get back to work, you know how find me!” With that, Alya took off running, bringing Marinette back to the battle, shoving the sirens to the back of her mind as she turned to the Confectioner.

Keep reading

samucabd  asked:

Can you write a follow up to the story Mulder tells Henry he knows how to fix Scully's recurring cancer? I know Henry would be amazingly grateful, but I'm particular focused on Scully's reaction after her cure and learning that Mulder made some deal, she isn't happy and Henry can't understand why. If you feel like it, amongst such angst, you can(if you want) elaborate on Mulder's fate.

Skinner had gotten him into this room, but the rest of the journey is his. The man’s face is a ruin, but the fact that he’s even alive leaves Mulder profoundly unsettled. He thinks of those tanks of alien fetuses, of what their stem cells might do.

They give him a stirring of hope.

“Mulder,” says his father. “You’re looking well.”

Mulder has little patience for pleasantries. “Thanks. Scully looks like hell though. You know anything about that?”

The man shrugs, a half smile playing on his gargoyle mouth. “The question isn’t what I know. It’s what it’s worth to you to know it too.”

Mulder rolls his eyes. “Look, let’s skip the Bond Villain preamble. You knew I was coming, you must have an offer prepared or you wouldn’t have bothered.”

“Monica,” he says, by way of reply.

Reyes emerges from the shadowed doorway, her eyes downcast.

Mulder sucks in a breath. “What are you doing here, what is this?”

Reyes doesn’t look up.

“Agent Reyes had her debts as well, Mulder. And here your two accounts intersect.”

Mulder stares between the two of them, baffled. And then, slowly, a sickening idea settles over him. “William,” he breathes.

“Very good, Mulder. Always a bright boy.”

Reyes looks up then, her eyes dark, shining. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“What have you done?” Mulder chokes.

The old man answers for her. “Nothing very untoward, I assure you. She’s the office manager for his pediatrician. Slips a few samples out for us, nothing dangerous.”

There is bile rising in Mulder’s throat, and a tingling rage in the rest of him. Monica Reyes, who brought his son into the world, has sunk to this. And Scully’s sacrifice, her great tragedy, all for nothing.

“He’s safe,” Monica says, pleading in her voice. “I’ve been watching him.”

Mulder thinks about punching Monica, shattering her fine cheekbone with his fist. He is largely stopped by the notion that she would welcome it.

“Agent Reyes has been most useful to all parties,” comes the oily voice again. “And, despite what you think, Agent Scully didn’t surrender the child for naught. William has attracted little attention this way, and we can acquire our data clandestinely. You and Agent Scully would never have been so agreeable.”

Mulder hears the words but struggles to process them. He imagines seeing William, a young man now. It’s a thing that can happen instead of just another late-night torment. “Where is he?”

Monica opens her mouth, but is silenced by a finger from their host.

“Not so fast. Mulder, you want a cure for Scully. I’m curious; did her new husband send you? Does he know her past?”

Mulder looks him in the eye, trying to push the thought of William away. “He knows enough. What are you offering? Why is she here?”

An almost pleasant smile meets this question. “So everyone can get what they want, of course. We’re curious to see what effect William’s blood will have on Scully’s condition. There weren’t many survivors of those early tests, you know.”

Mulder clenches his fists, remembers Penny Northern fading away in that stark hospital. Remembers Scully not far behind. “That’s what happens when you murder your test subjects,” he spits through his teeth.

“It was necessary at the time. But now we have new technology and a unique opportunity. Monica can arrange to have sufficient blood drawn based on some minor manipulation of his medical records. We believe one unit will be sufficient for Scully.”

Mulder’s head buzzes. Should he ask? Does he want to ask?

“You want to see him, don’t you?”

Mulder swallows hard, nods.

Monica draws a small picture from her pocket and, with trembling fingers, passes it to Mulder. “He looks like you both,” she murmurs.

Mulder hates her for saying it, for knowing it at all. He accepts the photograph, a school picture, and stares hungrily at it. Monica is right. William has his mother’s round blue eyes, her angular face. Mulder recognizes his own mouth and forehead, his smirky smile.

He thinks he might vomit.

“So what, then? Scully gets his blood, she lives, and what? I know magnanimity isn’t playing a role here.”

“True enough. Monitoring. You’re to get samples for us every month to track her progress. We want to check her telomeres, her oncogenes. See what William’s DNA does in response to hers.”

“She’d never agree to-”

“You can’t tell her. We can’t risk her interfering with the samples, on the off chance she’ll even agree.”

Mulder gapes. “How can I not tell her?”

The old man waves his hand. “Surely Mr. O'Keefe can help. Monica will send the necessary supplies as needed. Blood can be drawn while she sleeps; we have a very good topical anaesthetic.”

Mulder is reeling. He can save her, he and Henry can make a devil’s pact and sell her autonomy for the price of her life. He thinks of Emily, of the horror it caused to know bits of her had been stolen and studied and used. What would she do if he did it to her?

Monica’s eyes are boring into him, imploring him to…what? What was her price, he wonders. What did she want so badly that she’d help keep a child from his parents. That she’d sell pieces of him to people like this.

“I need to talk to Henry,” Mulder says at last. He stares at his son’s picture again, heartsick.

“I’d hurry. Tick tock, tick tock for Agent Scully. Monica, lay a fire, would you?”

Monica, her head still bowed, walks to the fireplace. She crouches before it, arranging split wood from a large metal basket.

Mulder glares at them both, wanting to brain them with the poker next to Monica. His pulse is racing, his stomach a tight fist. “I’ll get back to you,” he says. He longs to keep the picture, but cannot afford the risk.

He tosses it into the kindling on his way out of the room.

anonymous asked:

When you're writing fanfiction do you think it's necessary to describe characters (example: Kageyama was a high school student with black hair, blue eyes…) or is it fine to assume that since everyone probably knows the characters there's no need to describe them? Besides that do you think direct description of characters is necessary at all or should it be subtle? I hope this makes sense, but basically I'm just curious as to how much description do you think is necessary? (Regarding AUs as well)

Ooooh interesting question! I would definitely say this varies from author to author, and is ultimately up to you. But I do personally find some methods of character description to be easier to read than others!

Like you mentioned: when dealing with fanfic, you can reasonably assume your reader knows very well who the characters are and what they look like. But, on the flip side, oftentimes one of the many reasons people like reading about these characters are because… we like the way they look! Whether we think they’re unique or cute or gorgeous or bad ass or whatever, generally, we’re probably pretty attached to their physical looks in some way. So I think it is fine to sprinkle those descriptors about both in canon and AU fics, in a way that feels organic.

When thinking of an “organic” description, very rarely would I list character attributes like in the “black haired, blue-eyed high school student” example (I realize you may have just tossed that out there, but it’s good to state this anyway, I guess). I’d generally advise people to stay away from laundry list descriptions, even in original fiction, because they’re less engaging to read. 

Some authors love to describe their characters often, and at length, while others won’t spare more than one sentence out of an entire novel to tell readers what their cast looks like. I tend towards the former, because I love describing shit, and also because I write romances, where you’ll find an upward trend in character descriptions usually lies. But if you’re going for direct, try to get more than just their looks into the description. The below example is from my fic A Couple of Awesome Players, a canon-divergent AU where KageHina befriend each other in middle school:

The first thing Shouyou notices is that [Kageyama’s] head, with his hair laying shiny and flat on it, is almost perfectly round, much like a volleyball—which is fitting, because Kageyama might be one hundred percent made up of love for the sport. He started coming to the gym so that he could play on the days he doesn’t have practice to begin with.

Kageyama has big, round, blue eyes, and a slightly blank expression, unless he’s talking about volleyball—then his round face lights up like a bulb, shiny and excited. His hair looks like someone took a stencil with the English letter M and stuck it right over the front of his bangs, cutting out two windows for his eyes.

I’ve spent a lot of words on describing Kageyama across all my fics, and these are still some of my favorites. Instead of it being all about “black hair, blue eyes”, it’s more about “this kid is a dork, but he is the cutest volleyball dork”. I wanted to quickly establish him as soft and endearing, because that’s how he was when he was young, and hopefully it worked. 

Speaking of which, I tend to do a lot more character description in AUs, both because the characters are often meeting for the first time, and because of all the differences, which are just fun to describe. It helps establish the variations in each universe, while still showing how the characters remain the same: 

Then the mechanic rolls out from underneath the car slowly, like he’s not quite sure why somebody would request it of him, and Hinata wonders if he is maybe dreaming.

Kageyama is not stocky, or weedy. He’s tall as hell, when he finally stands up. His coveralls are shoved down to his waist, probably due to the heat, and the white sleeveless undershirt he is wearing below them sticks to his body from the sheen of sweat on his skin. The shirt clings to the kind of muscles that Hinata has never believed existed on people who don’t model for a living. His arms are distracting, toned, smeared with dirt and grease, and highlighted and shiny from perspiration. His shoulders and chest are no better, broad and strong.

He’s frowning at them slightly, dark blue eyes trained on Hinata. He swipes his arm across his forehead, leaving a smudge of grease there, before sweeping his black hair out of his face.

That’s from Speed Demons! Even when I’m being pretty straightforward, I try to break up the description, or toss in descriptors with action (eyes), or use the setting to amplify different aspects of the characters looks (hair, The Bod). Also: Hinata is noticing how hot this guy he’s been confronted with is, and he’s not being subtle. It’s pretty direct overall, but hopefully manages to keep from bombarding the reader with bullet points, and instead integrates itself into the narrative as it flows.

And it still might not be everyone’s cup of tea, that’s for sure! To sum up, I think character descriptions are a style thing, more than anything else. If you don’t feel like including them, don’t force the words onto the page. Describe what feels important to you. But in fanfics, because we already know these characters, put your own spin on it. 

Your readers know what X character looks like – so if you want to tell us about that, tell us something new about them, too. 

Tell us something we’ve never heard before :)

anonymous asked:

Hey there! For a sesskag prompt: dealing with body image issues. Love your work! Thanks :)

Thank you so much for you kind compliments and the prompt! ♥ Here you go!

Purple

She was all alone and far from his foolish half-brother and his ragtag retinue of companions; a rather reckless disposition from a girl with such an uncanny penchant for trouble. He was quite prepared to severely admonish her – though why he cared he did not wish to subject to any closer inspection at the moment.

However, his ready reprimands vanished when he caught the sight of her. She sat by a small pond, shoulders hunched, tossing pebbles into the still pool of water and intently staring at the growing ripples.

For a moment, he simply stared – then the words tumbled out before he could stay them.

“Why is your hair purple?”

She startled at the sound of his voice and whirled around – but as her blue eyes met his piercing golden ones, she visibly relaxed.

Sesshoumaru was fairly sure he should feel offended by her utter disregard for deadly predators –himself included.

“What do you think?” she asked, tilting her head and raising her hand to the absurd-coloured strands framing her face. “Does it suit me?”

Sesshoumaru arched one very derisive eyebrow at her.

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