but still he tells her to TRY and stay alive for him

things I love about Steve Trevor
  • He makes sure he actually thanks Diana for pulling him out of the water
  • The only time he ever expresses doubt to Diana about any of her beliefs is when he’s trying to convince her not to jeopardize the mission by killing Ludendorff, and even then it’s a hypothetical (“what if”)
    • He also does after she kills Ludendorff but that’s after her belief is shattered so I don’t really count it
  • He is so duty-bound I love him so much no wonder he and Diana got along so well
  • He just. Wants the people around him to be happy? The scene after they rescue Veld always kills me, and two parts in particular: 
    • When Charlie starts playing piano and singing and Steve says “I haven’t heard him sing in years…” and his face is all soft and you can see the shadow of a smile tugging at his lips but you can also see all the sadness in his eyes from those years of him not singing
    • And when he’s dancing with Diana and it starts to snow and she looks up and is so confused and delighted and he’s like “it’s snow… go on, touch it” and she does (also she has to let go of his hand to do it and he still encourages her to? such a small thing but oh man my heart) and he looks at her with such heart eyes
    • Honestly Chris Pine played him so well, so much complex emotion depicted even when he’s not speaking, like jfc well done
  • I love the boat scene, partly because it’s just fucking hilarious but mostly because their conversation is so respectful. She tells him she was sculpted from clay and brought to life by the breath of Zeus and his reaction is just to raise his eyebrows and say “Well, that’s neat.” 
    • I know that could read as sarcastic but it doesn’t to me at all. It’s funny, sure, but he isn’t making fun of her. It’s genuine and kind, even when what she’s saying is fairly unbelievable.
    • Just the entire way they speak in this scene… He never adopts that Mansplaining Tone™ that is so common, even when he’s actually explaining things. He talks because he wants to share information. It’s a cultural exchange, and I loved it.
  • After Veld, when they’re sitting and watching the villagers dance, he just quietly says, “You did this.” and she’s the one who smiles at him and says, “We did this.” He has so much respect for her and it kills me inside because it’s not “We did this” originally (which could be him pointing out that they’re a good team, him saying they have things in common, or a thousand other things), it’s just “You did this,” because he just wants her happy. He wants her to recognize how goddamn impressive she is. There is no agenda to what he said and it fucks me up
  • The entire scene with the kiss. Like, I’m gay as hell, usually I hate this kind of thing because it feels so unnecessary, but this was so well done I’m genuinely glad it was included
    • When he escorts her up to a room he then starts to leave. Even with all of that tension he doesn’t want to assume that she wants anything to happen. 
    • So he has his hand on the door and he starts to back out of the room and he hesitates just long enough for her to turn around and meet his gaze. And even then he’s reading that as a sign that she wants him in the room so he steps forward and closes the door behind her and then looks up again to confirm that’s what she wanted. And even after that, he crosses over to her so slowly and lets her be the one to actually initiate the kiss. 
    • He gives her a thousand and one chances to change her mind, to give him a small indication that she’s uncomfortable or doesn’t want it to happen, and it’s only once she lets all of those chances pass that they kiss. 
    • Consent-based relationships, man. Fuck me up.
  • Speaking of consent… the scene after Diana returns to Veld and sees the gas has killed everyone fucks me up
    • Steve’s followed her there and is clearly freaked the fuck out because she’s just gone and he physically can’t go in to try to find her because of the gas
    • So when she comes out he’s so visibly relieved and he goes forward and puts his hands around her face, clearly wanting to kiss her, and she shoves him away and says “stay away from me.” and he does.
    • He lets her be furious and devastated and overwhelmed because he knows what it’s like to feel powerless and I think he is genuinely sorry he contributed to her feeling this much pain. He lets her say she’s angry, he lets her blame him, he lets her grieve and doesn’t stop her when she leaves him there.
    • Not only does he not stop her, he sees the smoke from Chief’s fire and yells to her to follow it because he had followed Ludendorff. Their argument from the ballroom still isn’t resolved - she wants to just kill him and be done with it, Steve wants that to wait so they can focus on stopping the gas - but he recognizes that this is her choice and even after she’s basically just blamed an entire village’s deaths on him (and on herself) he tries to help her carry it out.
  • So after Diana’s killed Ludendorff and the war is still going on and Steve runs up to find her, he’s so visibly relieved that she’s alive and (like after Veld) goes to kiss her but backs away without her doing anything because he realizes the “stay away from me” thing has never been explicitly lifted. She might still want nothing to do with him and he respects that.
    • He does touch her a couple times after this but it’s always brief, I think it continues only because she didn’t react negatively the first time, and like they’re in the middle of a fucking war and I think Steve’s about 900% convinced that they’re all going to die so I’m gonna cut him a little slack here.
  • They have that “argument” again, where Diana says “this should have stopped, I killed him, why is this still going on” and instead of saying I told you so Steve just tries to get her to move on and help him save other people.
    • When he says “maybe it’s us! maybe we’re to blame!” (meaning not Ares) and she says that (obviously) she isn’t to blame, he doesn’t hesitate, he just says “but maybe I am.” He’s willing to put that on himself. Also, the qualifier through this scene - but maybe it’s us - is so important to me, because he’s still not saying “you’re wrong.” it’s a maybe.
    • When she refuses to go with him he’s clearly frustrated (again I’m giving him a pass here because he’s frustrated because he knows he won’t be able to save as many people without her) but he still doesn’t try to force her to go with him. He doesn’t guilt-trip her, doesn’t yell at her for not helping. He just gives that desperate shrug and says “I have to go. I’m sorry, I have to go.”
    • And when Charlie and Sam and Chief show up and ask where Diana is, all he says is “we’re on our own.” Not “she wouldn’t fucking help us” - which frankly is probably what I would have said in this situation - just that statement and nothing more.
  • In their final scene, when she’s hurt and dazed and temporarily hard of hearing, he breaks his “no touching” rule, but he breaks it because he’s helping her stand up and then because, well… even if she doesn’t, he knows he’s never going to see her again. 
    • It’s also super important to me that he doesn’t try to kiss her in this scene, because god knows he must have wanted to. He sees that she is in no shape to consent to anything like that and he doesn’t even come close to pushing it.
    • I’m not even gonna get into the “I can save today” part because I’m still too emotionally fraught
    • He says is “I wish we had more time.” before he tells her he loves her and literally runs to his death. That’s it. Nothing that could possibly make her feel guilty, nothing that could have seemed like he regretted anything. Not “I wish we hadn’t gone to the front.” Just “I wish we had more time.”
    • And he then, metaphorically and literally, gives her more time. Because he knows his clock has run out, but that doesn’t mean hers has to… So he runs and saves today and gives her his watch. Gives her time.
  • Anyway I’m seventeen thousand levels of fucked up from this movie, please feel free to add because Steve is amazing and a genuinely good, complex, respectful male character like this should be celebrated

The day after the battle, Hermione Granger got up before the sun did. The Lake was covered in fog, and she was used to having somewhere urgent to go, to be, to fight. 

She closed the tent flap up behind her. Hogwarts had something like enough beds, but Hermione hadn’t had it in her to climb those moving staircases, to step through the painting’s open frame and make her way to the Gryffindor girls’ seventh year dormitory. Her bed would have been there, months untouched except for the bras and scarves and bottles of sparkly purple nail polish Parvati and Lavender had strewn onto every open surface. 

The fog rolled in off the Lake and Hermione stood at the damp shore and shivered until the sun rose and burned it all away. 


-


The day after the battle, they buried their dead out on an island in the Lake, the day after the battle. Madame Pomfrey fretted and hovered, but every injured witch, wizard, and squib made it out to those conjured chairs. They might sit with assistance– with spells, with braces, with a friend’s shoulder– but they sat quiet and they listened to Flitwick read out the names. 


-


The day after the battle, Ron Weasley stood on tiptoe when he stepped back into the Great Hall, looking over a sea of bent heads to find a cluster of red. They’d brought the tables back. 

The cluster was only a tiny blip of three– Bill and their parents were flitting about, helping Flitwick float steaming bowls of pasta down onto each table. But Ginny and Percy were sitting on either side of George, keeping up a lively conversation about Gilderoy Lockhart’s hair. 

Ginny was sitting half in Harry’s lap, like if she didn’t he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from getting up to help, or to pace the castle, or to walk out to the Forest and not come back. She was holding his hand, her freckled thumb running over the words written into his skin. 

Ron thought about sitting with Luna, instead. Percy tried to laugh at one of Ginny’s jokes, and Ron didn’t know how to be kind like that. Ginny held Harry’s hand. Ron had thought for a long terrible stretch of heartbeats that he had lost two brothers yesterday. 

He could sit with Dean. He could walk out to the Forest and punch Aragog in his ugly eyes, because normally when he walked away from everyone he loved it was because he was scared and maybe change was good for the soul. 

Ron pushed his hands through his hair. He crossed the Great Hall, swung into a seat next to Harry, and filled his plate with lukewarm pasta. 


-


The day after the battle, Luna Lovegood climbed up to the Astronomy Tower, because it was the furthest she could get away from everything. She laid on her back on the cold stone and cast balls of light and enchanted birds to chase each other across the ceiling until she felt like descending down to the ground again. 


-


The day after the battle, Neville Longbottom went down to the greenhouses to see what the damage was there. He had sat all night and all morning in the infirmary, fetching water for Anthony Goldstein and holding Dennis Creevey’s hand and folding extra blankets down over Professor Sprout’s cold feet. Madame Pomfrey had banished him to go get a spot to eat and some sleep, so he walked down to the greenhouses to see what was salvageable. 

Whole panes of greenish glass stood jagged and shattered. Protective spells had put out any fires, but stray blasts of magic had killed beds of vegetables and flowers and taken almost all the silver-green leaves off an olive tree that twisted in the corner of Greenhouse 4. 

Neville went in through the door, even though there as a broken hole in the glass wall big enough for him, and almost fell back through it when Hannah Abbott stood up from the row of pots she’d been crouching behind. Dirt streaked every crease of her hands. “Hey,” he said, and let the door click shut behind him. 

“Hey.” When she saw where he was heading, she added, “The olive’s still alive.”

The bark was rough under his hand, gnarled from decades of slow growth. He could hear the green magic whispering down its xylem. 

“I was thinking I’d try to mend up the walls, close this place up again,” said Hannah. “But I wasn’t sure I could do it alone." 

"Alright,” said Neville. When Professor Sprout argued her way out of the infirmary and thumped downhill with the wind throwing her cloudy hair in her face, she found every pane of glass healed and Neville and Hannah asleep on the softest patch of moss in Greenhouse 2.  


-


The day after the battle, Parvati Patil sent an owl to Lavender Brown’s parents. 


-


The day after the end of it all, Hermione skipped lunch and found her favorite secluded corner of the library instead. The chairs stood silent and sober, all gouged dark wood. The high windows threw light gleaming across the polished table, catching on the dust motes drifting through the air above it. 

She dumped her carry-all down on it and reached inside– up to her elbows, her shoulders. She tried not to feel like it was eating her alive and she pulled out protein bars and unicorn horn and crumpled wanted flyers. 

She wasn’t sure when it had gotten so cluttered– sometime before the night in the ditch outside the little Scottish village with the awesome curry shop. Sometime after the time they hid out from a storm in an unknowing Muggle’s barn, wrinkling their noses at the itch of hay as they ate their dinner. Hermione had taken first watch, listening to the thunder roll over the shallow hills outside, and she’d gone through her bag pouch by endless pouch. Harry had twitched in his sleep with every flash of lightning, but everything in her bag had been where it was supposed to be. 

She summoned a wastepaper bin to hover beside her and got to work. Quills and ballpoint pens went in a neat heap to her left. Books she stacked by subject matter around her, except for the ones she flew back to their homes on Hogwarts shelves. She checked potions ingredients for decay, tossed the bad ones and wrapped the good ones back up in their oiled cloth and ziplock bags. 

She ate a protein bar while she piled duct tape and the radio and a travel-sized magnetic foldable Muggle chess set and a depleted first aid kit all up around her. She threw the wrapper away and wondered if the smell would ever come out of the bag’s insides, or if she should just buy another one.  


-


The day after the battle, they started putting the stones of the castle back into place. They put bones back together, first, skin and knit muscle and tendons. McGonagall escorted every statue and suit of armor back to where it belonged. 

Sue Li sat atop a pile of rubble and ate the biggest chocolate bar she’d ever seen her life. She thought she could still taste a film of Polyjuice on her tongue, but she told herself that was dumb. She dropped little pebbles down the ragged tumble of stones, counting their bounces and calculating averages, until Astoria Greengrass showed up with a glass of water and a pasty and put them down beside her. 

Astoria got her hands dirty every chance she got, put her back into sweeping up glass shards or hauling bandages or Wingardium Leviosa-ing stone blocks the size of a horseless carriage. She would stay in the castle as long as she could, finding odd tasks and errands and corners to lurk in. When she finally went back to the Greengrass family estate, it would be to pack her bags, kiss the old house elf on the cheek, and steal her dog away with her. 


-


The day after the battle, Ron went out to Hagrid’s cabin in the stubborn chill of the afternoon and sat in his pumpkin patch. He didn’t go knock on the rough-hewn door, and Hagrid didn’t come out, but after twenty minutes Fang trotted into the yard and patiently got slobber all over his shirt. 

Ron watched the sway of the shadows beyond the Forest’s edge. Buckbeak’s old tying post stood among the twining squash vines and their giant fuzzy leaves, the metal ring hanging empty against weathered wood. He thought about Ginny brushing her thumb over Harry’s scars and wrapped 
his hands over the pale marks that curled around his wrists. 

When the air started biting and the sky started darkening, Ron pulled himself back to his feet and climbed up to the library. He had never lived there, never really liked its labyrinth of stacks and dusty air, but he knew the way there better than he knew the way to the Quidditch pitch or the Room of Requirement or all those other places he liked so much more. 

It was empty, except for Hermione, and he was glad. She squeezed her last book into her bag and looked up at him, shoving her hair back off her forehead. 

“They doing dinner down there?” she said, her dry throat rasping on it. 

He shrugged. “Mum’s organizing, I think. It– helps, I think." 

She nodded, looking down to do the clasps up slowly, one by one. 

"I just wanted to go back to the tent,” said Ron. “Be alone. It’s quiet." 

"I won’t get in your way,” she said. “It’s still pitched down there." 

"I know,” he said. “With you, I meant.”

“That’s not alone,” she said. “I’m not quiet,” she said. She clasped and unclasped the bag. 

“Words. Accuracy. I never claimed to be the clever one." 

"But you are, Ron–" 

"Hermione,” he said. “Come with me? You shouldn’t be sitting here alone. Come home.”

They went down the grass through chilling air. Ron could hear his mother in his head, telling him to take her bag and carry it for her, but he just reached out for her hand. 


-


The day after the end of it all, Ron laid on the floor of the tent, counting stitches in the canvas, while Hermione read Hogwarts, A History like she didn’t have it memorized. She read her favorite parts aloud, stopping mid-sentence when the tent flap rustled and opened. 

“Ginny’s sitting on Neville until he agrees to sleep in a real bed and not a pile of shrubbery,” Harry said, stepping inside and shutting it up behind him. “She got Luna to help because she says otherwise Luna will just fade into a corner and not come out for food.” He hunched his shoulders. “I’m not intruding, right?" 

"Don’t be daft,” said Ron and patted a bit of floor next to him. “C'mon, join in, Hermione’s trying to bore me to sleep. I suspect it’s an act of caring concern.” Hermione threw a pillow at his head without looking up from the pages.  

The day after the battle, they fell asleep in a tangle in the center of the tent that they had lugged across their country, across these long, cold days of the war. They had danced here to the radio, had chewed protein bars, played chess and bled and yelled at each other. 

But the war was over and they were growing into it, slow, staying up too late as they leaned into each other and whispered on this threadbare rug. They meant to wobble to their feet and get to bed, but Harry was clinging to Hermione’s hand and none of them wanted to go. 

They would get too old for this– hard floors and the way Harry’s neck was cricked up on Ron’s bony shoulder. Hermione’s snoring would get worse and Ron would have to sleep with four carefully arranged pillows to stop his back from aching in the mornings, but Harry would always have a place here. He had slept on Ron’s bedroom floor at fourteen, leaned on Hermione outside his parents’ broken home. 

In the weeks after the battle, Hermione would track down her parents and move back home, and they would all help the Weasleys rebuild the Burrow. Harry would move in Andromeda Tonks’s spare room. “We’re almost like family, after all,” she’d say briskly, shooing him into the house and showing him where she kept the tea, Teddy’s diapers, and the whiskey. They’d come for visits and talk through the night in each of those homes, curled up under Molly’s quilts or out on the Granger’s back porch swing or over fingers of firewhiskey with Andromeda. 

In the months after the war, he and Ron would get a flat while they went through Auror training and Hermione would crash there five nights out of seven. Her university textbooks would take over their countertops, shelves, tables, and floor and Harry wouldn’t tease them (too much) for how hilariously long they tried to pretend it was the couch Hermione slept on. 

Every home Ron and Hermione lived in, for the rest of their lives, would have a place for Harry– a spare room or a patch of floor or an old sofa. He would know how Hermione took her coffee, and his favorite cereal and Ginny’s favorite oatmeal would always been in the cupboard, and their children would have giggly cousin-sleepovers in magical tents they pitched on the living room rug. 

When the kids came shrieking in to wake them at absolutely unacceptable, ugly hours, Ginny would groan curse words they’d repeat gleefully among themselves, but Harry would let them grab his hands in their little sticky ones and pull him barefoot and messy-haired out into the morning.

Princess Kaguya of the Moon

so while i was in japan i stumbled upon a pop up alien and space museum/art gallery (if you can’t find a thing in tokyo, it probably doesn’t exist) and there were these gorgeous feudal paintings of the tale of the bamboo cutter and it’s a very good story but

what if

it went

a little

differently?

kaguya is the princess of the moon. she is a young child, gangly thin limbs and a plump mouth permanently set in a stubborn pout. she is a beautiful child, even by the moon’s standards, with her cold opal eyes and hair the same deep black as the void of space. she is an unruly, irritable child. she runs from the priestesses who attempt to teach her her duties, and steps on the feet of little princes from far away stars that her parents parade in front of her. she can’t be soothed by sweets, by soft toys, by pretty songs. she is a being of constant want, and nothing in the whole of space seems to satisfy her.

kaguya does not love the moon as she should. she does not find beauty in it’s silvery, iridescent ground, nor in the pools beneath its surface that glint like mercury. she finds her citizens stuffy and annoying, and all the people from the stars think they’re better than them just because they shine a little brighter. it makes kaguya cross – the sun shines brightest of all, and the only beings that still reside on it is a great monster of a dragon that no one dares cross.

the priestesses try to entice her to learn this portion of her duties at least, but she runs from them and plugs her ears and does not listen. there are times when the sun and moon cross paths, and when they do the great dragon of the sun attempts to gobble them up whole. it is only by praying to the god tsukuyomi and erecting a barrier that the royal family can protect their home from the sun dragon.

it is kaguya’s most sacred duty, and she has no interest in it.

she’s simultaneously bored by her home and insulted when others find it lacking, and this contrary rational might be distressing to the logic of an adult, but kaguya is not an adult. she is a child, and being contrary is her prerogative.

she is walking through in the courtyard behind a palace when a shooting star passes her by, then circles back again. it’s s such a little thing, it must have been traveling for a very long time, because it’s burned down so it’s only about half as big as kaguya. this means the star is very old. “child,” the falling star says, voice ancient and crackling, “why are you sad?”

“i am not sad,” she answers, but as soon as she says that she knows it’s a lie, and tears prick at her eyes. “i am always lonely, though i am surrounded by people. i am always bored, though there are many things to entertain me. i am always angry, though there is nothing wrong. i am sad because i am a piece that does not fit.”

“maybe you are simply a piece that belongs to a different puzzle,” the falling star says, “come, climb onto me, and i will i take you somewhere new.”

“will it be better?” she asks.

if a falling star could shrug this one would, but it can’t so it doesn’t. “it will be different.”

different sounds better to kaguya. she agrees, not bothering to say goodbye to her parents or her people, does not take one last look at the beauty of the moon’s surface. instead she climbs onto the falling star, her skin thick enough that she does not feel its burn, and rides it all the way down, until it is a star no longer and only a falling rock, until she goes tumbling onto a whole new planet, and as she falls she thinks that this new planet looks very green.

~

there is an old man called taketori no okina. he lives alone in a great bamboo field, and every day he wakes up at dawn and cuts bamboo until dusk, then he goes home and eats and sleeps and wakes up in the morning to do it all again. when he was a young man, taketori no okina fell in love with a samurai who had laughter lines around his mouth and strong hands, who taught him how to wield blades with a strength and skill that could cut down the strongest soldiers. but taketori no okina only uses it to harvest bamboo. the samurai was engaged to the daughter of a respectable family, and so he left. he left his village not long after the samurai, unable to be there alone in the place where they used to be together.  taketori no okina’s heart was so full of love for his samurai that he could not bear to love another, and so he never did.

he is awoken in the middle of the night by a bang that shakes his home and nearly deafens him. he stumbles outside, and a couple miles into his field he sees smoke. he goes running for it, concerns about fire and war – they’re in a time of peace now, but they weren’t always – rushing through his mind as he stumbles through. when he reaches the source, it’s to find his bamboo flattened in a ten foot wide circle and a little girl lying in the center. he falls to his knees beside her and carefully picks her up, cradling her in his arms. she’s pale, like she doesn’t spend enough time in the sun, and has long black hair. her thin chest rises and falls with her deep breaths, and he is relieved that she’s alive. “little girl,” he says, “you must wake up and tell me if you are all right.”

she opens her eyes, two pearls set in her delicate face. “i am well,” she says, and smiles at him. she curls into him, setting her head against his chest, “you are warm. i will stay with you, for you are warm and have a kind face.”

she falls asleep once more, a hand clutching something laying across her stomach and her other hand fisted into his robe. taketori no okina looks at this little girl and feels his heart expand, until it’s straining against his rib cage. he loves his samurai as much as he always has, but now his heart is bigger. it’s made room so he can fill it with love for this little girl, and so he does.

he carries her to his home and settles her into his bed. it’s a small bed, meant only for one, and she is a little thing, but he does not wish to crowd her, so takes the floor. tomorrow he will build her a bed and take her to market and show her the hot springs near the mountain. for now he falls asleep listening to her soft breathing with a smile.

the next morning he wakes up to her sitting on the floor by his side, running her fingers over a pockmarked stone. “what is that?”

“it is all that is left of my friend. she was once a great star but she fell, as all great stars must. she carried me here because i was sad. but now i am sad that she is gone.”

“that’s all right,” taketori no okina says, and she blinks down at him. no one had ever told her that it was okay that she was sad before. “she was very special, so we must put her in a very special place.”

he gets up and builds a ledge across the window with a platform just big enough for the stone to fit. he lifts her up so that she can set what’s left of her friend on it herself. “now she can see you and sky she came from at the same time, and you will always be able to see her.”

“she cannot see anything anymore,” she says, but she likes the idea of it, the sentiment. she feels less sad at her loss now, although she can’t say why, since nothing has changed.

once he has set her back on her feet she looks up at him and says, “i am kaguya. what shall i call you?”

“they call me taketori no okina,” he pushes a lock of her dark hair behind her ear, “you may call me whatever you like.”

she wrinkles her nose at that name. it is too long, and too formal. if she is to call him that, then he might as well call her princess kaguya, and she might as well not have left the moon at all. “i will call you oyaji,” she declares, and it’s not a term she’d used even with her father on the moon, but for this old man who built her a shelf and carried her home and had large, rough hands that touch her gently, she thinks it fits.

~

kaguya quite likes the new planet and her new father. he is man who’s spent a lifetime working and doing little else. he has a tidy savings that he cheerfully depletes on her; he buys her colorful kimonos for her to wear when he walks her to market, and functional kosodes for the days she spends playing in the river and darting through the bamboo forests. he tells her stories at night, of his samurai, of the emperor, and when he exhausts his reservoir of stories about this land, he tells her the tales of other ones – the fire-rats of china, the buddha of india, and when he even those run out he tells her of dragons, of a magical island called horai.

she loves these stories, and she loves him. there are days when she is sad and cross, and on those days oyaji kisses her forehead and tucks the blanket around her shoulder and brings her something spicy from the market for dinner. oyaji just lets her be sad or angry when she wants to be, and because of that kaguya finds that now she gets sad less and less, that more often than not she’s …. happy.

she notices the special care oyaji takes when he talks of samurai, and sees the strength and power in his limbs when he cuts bamboo, and decides she would like to be strong like the samurai in his stories, like oyaji is himself. so she asks and asks, and he’s worried that it’s too dangerous for her. but oyaji loves her like she’s his own flesh and blood, and is unable to deny her anything.

kaguya grows up. she grows up on stories of far off lands and magic, she grows up on warm, simple food made by someone who loves her, she grows up learning to wield blades with the same brute efficiency as oyaji. kaguya grows up beautiful. her skin is darker now that she dances in the sun’s rays, her hair is long and fine, and her eyes are as they’ve always been – pale and beautiful, small versions of the moon she was born on. she moves with a steadied grace that only a deadly woman can master and has the whipcord strength of body from days working in the bamboo fields alongside her father, but all the delicate features of the princess she was born as.

they were left alone when she was a child, when oyaji took her hand and guided her to meat stalls and cloth sellers and bought sparkly combs for her to wear in her hair. but kaguya is a child no longer. she is a young woman, and tales of her beauty spread far and wide. just as when she was a child and princes from far off stars came to court her, now princes come from far off lands. as a child she stepped on their feet, and as a woman she wishes to take her shiny blades and cut them from navel to neck. but she is not a princess here, she is the poor daughter of a poor bamboo cutter, and must act accordingly. she can’t go slicing up arrogant suitors who believe they are entitled to her, no matter how much she would like to.

the most persistent are five princes from lands far from here. she requests a betrothal gift from each of them, and says she will marry the first to return.

from the first prince, she requests the stone begging bowl of buddha.

from the second prince, she requests a jeweled branch from horai.

from the third prince, she requests a fire-rat robe.

from the fourth prince, she requests a cowry shell born of swallows.

from the fifth prince, she requests a colored jewel from a dragon’s neck.

off they go to fulfill her impossible requests, and kaguya rests easy knowing that they will not return, or if they do they will return empty handed.

but this is not the end.

Keep reading

The first time the team sees Andrew and Neil kiss is in the airport when Neil is about to leave to go see Uncle Stuart.

  • No one trusts Neil to actually go visit Uncle Stuart
  • So the whole team (including Wymack and Abby) goes to the airport with him to make sure he actually gets on the plane he says he is going to get on this time
  • Even Aaron shows up in time to come along, although he doesn’t say a word to Neil and mostly looks completely uninterested in anything to do with Neil
  • But he does glance to check that Neil is actually headed for the right plane
  • Andrew meant to get Neil alone to say his goodbyes before Neil left, but that did not work out
  • From the moment they woke up to the moment Neil has to leave them at the airport, they do not get a single second alone together
  • They wake up to a big breakfast Nicky made specifically for Neil
  • And by the time they’ve eaten, the upperclassmen are streaming into the room while Neil is still getting ready
  • Their room is so full and the upperclassmen are looking around at the monsters’ dorm room and chattering away at Neil
  • Dan makes Neil promise to call and check in every night
  • Matt insists that if anything goes even remotely wrong or if Neil needs anything, that Neil should call him right away
  • Allison tells him, “Try and come back looking like you weren’t on the wrong end of a meat tenderizer this time.”
  • Renee wishes Neil luck on his trip and says how they’ll all miss him
  • She also keeps an eye on Andrew who is standing back from everyone else

Keep reading

nochu unsolved (m)

Pairing:  Jungkook x Reader
Genre: boyfriend!jungkook , smut, comedy, fluff
Warnings: thigh riding, dry humping, panty fetish, creampie, graveyard sex, mention of past emo Jungkook lmao
Word Count:  8k+
Summary:  cryptid hunting with your boyfriend doesn’t go quite as planned…

Keep reading

Alright my guys, listen up. I’m just really fucking proud of Sansa Stark, okay? Like so beyond belief, amazing fucking proud of her. No one, literally no one has been through more shit on this show time and time again and still come out on the the other side a more resilient woman. She’s gone from a naive little girl, to a political prisoner, to an abuse victim, to the LADY OF WINTERFELL IN CHARGE OF HER HOME WHILE THE KING IN THE NORTH IS AWAY.

SHE HAD TO STAND IN FRONT OF A CROWD OF PEOPLE AND WATCH AS HER OWN FATHER WAS WRONGFULLY BEHEADED WHEN SHE WAS STILL A KID. SHE HAD TO LIVE OUT HER DAYS SURROUNDED BY THE VERY PEOPLE THAT KILLED HIM AND MURDERED HER FAMILY AS THEY TREATED HER LIKE SCUM AND BEAT HER FOR EVERY OTHER WORD OUT OF HER MOUTH. SHE HAD TO LEARN TO HOLD HER TONGUE AND PRETEND TO BE HAPPY JUST TO STAY ALIVE. SHE GOT A BRIEF MOMENT OF HOPE BEFORE SHE WAS MARRIED OFF TO ANOTHER LANNISTER AS A POLITICAL MOVE. SHE ESCAPED KINGS LANDING AND FINALLY GAINED HER FREEDOM BEFORE BEING SOLD OFF TO ANOTHER HOUSE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE BUTCHERING OF HER FAMILY FOR CLAIM OVER WINTERFELL. SHE WAS RAPED AND BEATEN AND DRAGGED THROUGH THE GUTTER EVERY SINGLE DAY BECAUSE OF HER NAME. SHE THOUGHT HER ENTIRE FAMILY WAS DEAD AND SHE WAS ALONE AND STUCK TO LIVE OUT HER DAYS BEING BRUISED BY HER “HUSBAND”. SHE WAS PASSED AROUND BETWEEN HER OWN ENEMIES, SURROUNDED BY TRAITORS AND MURDERERS.

BUT THAT GIRL DIDNT LET IT TAKE AWAY WHO SHE WAS. SHE NEVER GAVE UP ALL HER TIME IN KING’S LANDING. SHE LEARNED WHAT SHE COULD ABOUT POLITICAL STRATEGY AND DECIET AND USED IT TO STAY ALIVE. SHE LEARNED HOW TO PLAY THE GAME OF THRONES, HOW TO PLAY THE ROLE OF AN INNOCENT GIRL TO SURVIVE. SHE SASSED THE LANNISTERS EVERY CHANCE SHE HAD. SHE HELD ON TO HER TITLE AS A STARK AND HER RIGHT TO WINTERFELL AND SHE REMAINED BRAVE IN THE FACE OF CERTAIN FAILURE. SHE JUMPED OFF A CASTLE WALL INTO THE SNOW TO ESCAPE HER ABUSER. SHE WADED THROUGH A FREEZING CREEK TO OUTRUN DOGS. SHE LOOKED HER CAPTOR IN THE EYE AND TOLD HIM SHE WAS NOT AFRAID. SHE FOUGHT HER WAY BACK TO HER FAMILY AND MOVED TO TAKE BACK HER HOME FORM ITS INVADERS. SHE RODE INTO BATTLE TO LOOK HER RAPIST AND ABUSER RIGHT IN THE EYE AND TELL HIM THAT HE WAS GOING TO DIE AND HE HAD NO CONTROL OVER HER. SHE BROUGHT THE KNIGHTS OF THE VALE TO THE BATTLE OF THE BASTARDS AND SAVED THE NORTHERN ARMIES. SHE FED THAT SAME RAPIST TO HIS OWN HUNTING HOUNDS AND SMILED AS HE DIED. SHE CONTINUES TO ADVISE JON EVEN IF NO ONE WILL LISTEN TO HER OPINIONS. SHE HAS THE LOYALTY OF THE NORTH BUT REFUSES TO TAKE THE TITLE OF QUEEN BECAUSE IT IS JON’S PLACE. SHE’S STILL DOING THE BEST SHE CAN AND TRYING TO KEEP HER FAMILY TOGETHER AND ALIVE AND NO ONE IS APPRECIATING HER FOR IT OR TAKING HER SERIOUSLY BUT THAT DOESNT STOP HER FROM TRYING HER BEST.

YALL… I’m just… she has been through the most shit of anyone and she’s still here and she’s so far from the little girl that just wanted to marry a prince she was in the beginning and you have no idea how emotional I am about this. Sansa Stark is literally the strongest character on this show and she deserves all the respect and praise in the world and I just love her so much and that’s the kind of strength and resilience I aspire to possess. 

THE NINE TIMES STEVE GAVE YOU A FUNNY LOOK

Originally posted by themarvelnerd

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader (Platonic), Avengers x Reader (platonic)

Warning(s): the kinda language Steve would smh at

World Count: 3827

Author’s Note: I got so into this it’s not even funny. After like, two years of not doing anything on tumblr, it isn’t surprising that i write a Steve oneshot for the first time since. But on that note, I don’t only do Steve works, please feel free to request other characters and/or fandoms: masterlist - prompt list.

Preference ★ Imagine ★ One Shot ★ Drabble




[Y/N] [Y/L/N] was an asshole.
You were an asshole.
You are an asshole.

You were slightly narcissistic with an ego as big as the tower, you were very beautiful, and the last person on earth to ever be considered shy.

That made you and Tony Stark best of pals (most of the time), and you and Steve as foes (all the time). He wasn’t rude or a jerk or at all hostile, Steve was just always on edge with you. He didn’t know whether or not your jokes were jokes (you always reverted back to slitting your enemy’s throats – Steve being a righteous guy and all, he wasn’t all that optimistic with that choice), or if you really were here to save people and not for the money the government and Tony Stark paid you — eh, what can you say, it’s very, very good money.

Humble was also not on your list of qualities.

Bold red lips, a wide grin to showcase your pearly white teeth, and heart shaped sunglasses. That was you in your room as you blasted out music at exactly 2100 hours.

You and Steve shared a floor in the Avengers tower.

Why? It was a decision that was absolutely not your choice, but you had no problem with it. Fucking with Steve was fun.

See, Tony had a whole floor to himself, same as Bruce and Vision. Nat and Clint were right below them (Clint usually at his place with Laura, though), Sam and Scott also had their own floor, Wanda and Pietro, then last but not least, Thor either in Asgard or London with Jane – which then pretty much left you and Steve together. Peter kind of lived here during the day then and back at his apartment with May during the evenings. He was a total pest.

A knock went by unnoticed by you. But an upset looking Steve did. He stalked into your (much larger) room and paused your music. He turned and gave you a look.

You raised your brow as you paused your late night dancing. You pushed your sunglasses further down your nose to peak up at the Captain. “Captain.” You greeted, nodding your head towards the brooding soldier once. “May I help you?“ You raised your perfectly sculpted brow in questioning.

Steve took a deep breath and crossed his (also very large) arms. “Your music was too loud and I’m trying to sleep. Can’t you at least keep it down?”

You snorted. “It’s barely nine o'clock, grandpa.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m not a grandpa.” He grumbled with an offended frown. “Just turn it down, will you?”

You smirked and pushed your glasses back up. “Oh, I’m sorry, have I spangled your stars, grandpa?”

With a final narrowed stare, Steve twisted his Dorito-body around and stalked back to his room.

You chuckled and resumed to your midnight dancing with wine.

That was the first time you got on his nerves. It was also the first time you were on the receiving end of his very famous looks.




The second time you received a stupid look was during a mission - in the middle of combat, mind you. This stupid robot who called himself Ultron was trying to ruin everything, and apparently, it was up to you and the rest of the Avengers to stop him – or it. It’s not that you wanted to. it was kind of what Tony Stark paid you to do. And like hell would you pass up Tony Stark’s pay checks.

Steve trusted you now, at least. You only saved his ass, like, a hundred (three) times after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell and he found out his best friend from seventy years ago was still alive. A wild ride, that year was.

Anyway, you and the team were in Sokovia fighting robots.


ROBOTS.


Fuck this shit, if the money wasn’t so good you’d drop your signature double pistols and walk the opposite direction. But one, your pistols were very delicate (silver with diamonds), and you were asked very nicely to stay by Bruce - and you could never say no to Bruce.

In hindsight, the view wasn’t so bad and I guess – I guess – that saving people felt a little good (don’t tell anybody). Sokovia was so far high into the sky that you could have sworn that you could see angels flying around in the distance – some helpful angels, huh.

The sky was beautiful, though. And so was Captain America’s ass.

You beamed at the sight and turned to Steve. “Hey, Cap?” You called out, shooting a robot.

Steve grunted in acknowledgement as he kicked another robot and decapitated it with his shield. “What?” He gave you a glance that barely lasted a second.

You shot another robot. Then another. Then another. Then you turned to him. “Nice ass.”

That was look number two.




"Hey F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

"Yes, Ms [Y/L/N]?”

"What’s your faculty on nicknames?”

"Activated by Mr Stark, Ms.”

"Huh … so, like, what are you allowed to call me?”

"Whatever you ask, Ms [Y/L/N].”

“Right, right … how about Supreme Leader [Y/L/N]?”

"Activated,  Supreme Leader [Y/L/N].”

"Huh … thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

"Of course, Supreme Leader [Y/L/N].”


Of course, that didn’t go unnoticed for long. You were eating dinner with the team – something that didn’t happen often – and Steve took this time to lecture the team about a mission in a few days time. Three days, to be exact. It was located in Paris, and you were all to attend a gala crawling with HYDRA agents, mercenaries, psycho bitches, and anything else in between.

“ – so we’ll go over the plans again after dinner – ”

You groaned loudly and threw your head back. You dropped your knife loudly causing a clink made by the knife and plate. “Rogers!” You whined, “We went over this yesterday! And this morning at breakfast! And two seconds ago while I tried to enjoy my dinner in peace, fighting the urge to grab this fork and shove it through my eye – ” you ignore his wince, “and now again tomorrow?! If you even bring this stupid mission up again, I will resign.” You threatened. “Resign, you hear me. R. E. S. I. G. N.” Drama Queen is also in your list of qualities. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. tell him.” 

Natasha rolled her eyes, Sam cleared his throat, Steve still had his wince and sullen/guilty face, Clint looked bored as he played with his peas, Thor looked confused, Pietro look amused, Wanda was too busy chatting up Vision, Scott was – where was Scott? Tony had a smirk, and poor Bruce just didn’t know where to look. Peter just chewed his chicken in anticipation, looking back and forth between you and Steve for a reaction.

F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice rang out soon enough. “Of course, Supreme Leader [Y/L/N].” Then the AI began repeating your every word.

Natasha’s brow shot up. “Supreme Leader? Really?”

“ – And this morning at breakfast. And – ”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“ – seconds ago while I tried to enjoy my dinn – ”

Steve groaned. “That’s enough, F.R.I.D.A.Y., please stop.”

“Yes, Captain.”

You rolled your eyes. “Traitorous bitch.” You mumbled.

Cue look number three.




The fourth time you received a look was when Steve was fixing a lightbulb and he suddenly found himself on the floor. He did know you guys hired people for that kind of work, right?

Anyway, you and Pietro - bored as hell and without anything to do - you both decided to race from the ground floor of the Avengers tower, to the very top – on foot – using the staircases.

And the silver asshole was absolutely not allowed to use his powers. If he did, you had every right to shoot him in the shoulder with your trusty diamond pistols and he would have to take it like a man. He promised so, himself. “Scouts Honour.” Pietro said, saluting you.

To which Wanda replied with a snort and, “What Scouts Honour?”

You were enhanced, yes, but you were tired. Not too much, just enough not to be tired after running twenty-six flights of stairs. You and Pietro both slammed into Steve’s ladder as he fixed a lightbulb.

You didn’t even bother looking back.

You could not lose this bet.

The entire time you ran, you repeated the same thing in your head over, and over again. Run, Forrest, Run! Whatever - If Pietro won, you had to massage him whenever he felt like it for an entire month. If you won, well, he had to give you a piggy back ride whenever you felt like it. Also for a month.

Steve was really upset after that. He wouldn’t look at you for a week, and when he finally did, he gave you a long lecture about racing inside the tower. “Blah, blah, blah, someone could get seriously hurt, blah, blah, blah, if I see you two race again, blah, blah, blah.”

You leant over towards Pietro who sat beside you. He was also slouched on his chair, eyes looking at the ceiling in boredom. “Are you also feeling the urge to shove your foot up his ass?”

That was look number four.




Look number five + look number six was kind of your fault.

Steve had arrived after being gone for months. He, along with Sam, had been off around the world searching high and low for James Buchanan Barnes. You wanted to go, you really did. Despite your love for annoying the living shit out of Steve, you still cared about him more than you let on. That was not your fault. How? Well, you know the whole shebang: 

Tragic back story: check. Trust issues: check. Daddy issues: check. Issues with not being able to express how you feel without wanting to physically vomit: check.

However, it was in your job description to be able to read people. You were an intelligent person. You knew a lot, you sensed a lot, you observed a lot. You just didn’t show it a lot. And without saying anything, you knew how people felt and most importantly, what they needed.

And Steve just needed his own space – Sam excluded. You were actually kind of jealous of Sam (tell anyone, and you won’t live until the next day). Sam was kind of Steve’s boyfriend (along with dear old Buck-a-roo and Tony).

So while he was gone, you kept your distance. Steve didn’t need any more on his plate, let alone more of your shit. Whenever he called the team for a report or to simply catch up, you never said anything. You had told the crew to just inform him that you were on a mission, in the gym, or off gallivanting somewhere - anywhere, really.

Steve really cared about you though, you knew that. Every time he called he’d see if you were there. And you were. You were there, right behind the monitor that projected him along with the the camera that projected the team from your end. Your face would be resting on your hand, your elbow propped the table. You actually smiled whenever he asked about you. It was cute.

Anyway, you kind of deserved look number five.

Steve had finally arrived with Bucky by his side. Sam had already said his hellos and received his welcome-home handshakes and hugs. Steve stayed behind the Quinjet for a few short minutes before hopping off and finally introducing the famous James Barnes. 

But you didn’t know that.

And neither did Scott.

You two weren’t racing – nope. You were simply just running to get to the last slice of cake in the main kitchen. In both your defence, it was the last slice of the cake Pepper brought home from Paris. Paris. You loved Paris. And apparently, Scott did, too. If that wasn’t worth running for, what the hell was?

You distinctly remember Pepper saying that it was from Paris, and that it was the best cake she’d ever tasted.

So, without looking, you barged through the team yelling bloody murder. Scott was a little behind seen as though you’d throw whatever the hell you could at him. That last slice was yours, and ramming, pushing, throwing off the building, and threatening whoever you needed to just to that slice, you would sure as hell do it.

You felt your hip slam into a corner of a table: ignored. You tripped over a step: ignored. You felt your shoulder ram into a very strong and metal-like object: ignored. You saw a couch: ignored + jumped over.

But alas, you held in your hand … the slice.

A grin erupted on your face. Poor Scoot looked crestfallen.

“Sorry, Lang. This one’s mine.” You grinned.

A clearing of the throat made you jump. What the hell did they want? 

When you looked up, you saw the entire team + Steve + The Winter Soldier.


Well, shit.


“Oh.” You trailed off. You gave Steve a sheepish smile. “Hi, Steve, good to see you again. Did I tell you I missed you? Because I did.”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop running in the tower?” Steve stared into your [Y/E/C] eyes with his blue ones.

“No. You told said to stop racing.”

Steve didn’t reply. Instead he gave you look number five.

You chuckled nervously and stalked towards them. “Sorry.” You looked to Sam and gave him a large hug despite already giving him one earlier. Your right hand still refused to let go of the platter of cake. Then you looked towards James Buchanan Barnes.

Steve cleared his throat. “Buck, meet [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. [Y/N] [Y/L/N], meet Bucky.”

Neither of you did anything. Just kinda stared at each other in thought. He tried to read you while you tried to read him.

He was lonely.

Okay, you thought. So you reached your right hand up and gestured him to take your plate. “Here you go. Nice to meet ‘cha.” 

Steve gave you another look, only, this one was different. It looked funnier – more odd and curious. A look that you had never seen before. That was look number six.

And this time, you didn’t see anyone’s reactions. You just stared at James Buchanan Barnes, while he stared at you, to the cake, then back to you again. 

Thus, a beautiful friendship was born.




Few months later,
Look number seven.


You found yourself in this position a lot, it seems. It would be two in the morning, your head in your hands and your ears perked up.

As an agent, you were trained this way. Your mind had its own mind. Every morning at exactly one o'clock your eyes would flutter open, and without a single thought, your body would move almost mechanically. You’d get up, wash your face, then throw a hoodie over your head. Afterwards, you’d find yourself sitting on the edge of you bed, head in your hands, and your ears waiting for Bucky.

After sleeping in the same floor as Steve and Bucky, Bucky’s room was right across yours. Both your doors were so close you could stand in the hall way, spread your arms, and you’d be able to touch both your door knobs.

Insomnia was something you had as a child. It came very naturally. So, as a cure, you’d take sleeping vitamins – not pills. Though it would help you fall asleep, it was up to you to keep yourself asleep. Five hours was your maximum. If your sleep was disturbed, that’s when you would wake up every day from then on unless you trained yourself otherwise all over again. That could take days, or even weeks going up to months.

So every day, it was up to you. You didn’t want Steve waking up and losing precious sleeping hours. So instead of training yourself to sleep for five hours all over again, you allowed yourself two hours of rest every night. From then on, you’d stay awake and listen for Bucky’s screams.

Then you’d find your feet silently landing on the floor and rushing towards Bucky’s room.


Here are your steps:

  1. Lightly press a pillow on Bucky’s metal arm and cover it.
  2. Sit on his arm to keep him from attacking you.
  3. Softly say his name as many times as it takes for him to wake up.
  4. Press your body harder onto his as he thrashes around.
  5. Then hug the hell out of him and cradle his head when he wakes and begins to weep.


This would have been the one hundredth time you’ve done this. Even now, you could still remember the fourth time you had done this. You had accidentally left Bucky’s door ajar.

You were observant and smart. 

You knew Steve was there.

You guessed you just took a little longer that time to wake Buck up.

You definitely saw Steve’s look then. And again, this look was kind of different. It was a funny look that you had no idea how to read.

The fact that this look was so different, to say it irritated the hell out of you was an understatement. Out of the both of you, it was meant to be you that got under his skin.

You hated feeling this way.




Nowadays, you’ve been more confused than in control.

Back then, you saw Steve, you’d feel the urge to irritate the hell out of him. But now, you’d see Steve, and suddenly, you’d feel a funny feeling in your stomach.

So, naturally, you absolutely despised him for it. Tonight – or morning – when Bucky woke up, he didn’t cry. He just asked if you were hungry. And, naturally, you had said yes. You were always hungry.

Soft music was playing. You didn’t want to wake up Steve, after all. So you stood in the kitchen of your floor and began making pop tarts. Bucky was sitting by the kitchen island while you decided to cheer him up. While the pop tarts were cooking up, you decided to change the music to pop. Then you began dancing.

You were not a dancer. Add that to your list of non-existent qualities.

You sort of just threw your hands in the air and hoped for natural rhythm to save your dignity. 

Bucky looked somewhat amused, so that was the goal accomplished.

It all came to an end when Steve cleared his throat. He stared at Bucky in a way that made all of you uncomfortable. Bucky was going to be just fine, that’s what you thought, anyway. Steve thought otherwise. Steve treated him like a broken vase.

That’s how you and Bucky got so close. 

You refused to look or listen to any of Steve’s old war stories about Buck. Thus, why you called Bucky “James”.

He wasn’t the Bucky he was in the 40’s. And he wasn’t The Winter Soldier, either. He was someone else.

Steve’s eyes bounced from you, to Bucky, then from Bucky, to you. “[Y/N], maybe now isn’t the time to – ”

“No, Steve,” Steve’s eyes snapped towards Bucky, “it’s fine.” Bucky said quietly. “She’s actually making me happy here.” 

After that, nobody talked to a while. Bucky stood from his stool and began to walk off. 

You stepped towards him, “James - ”

He shook his head. “It’s alright [Y/N], trust me. I’ll be fine tonight. I’m gonna try and go back to sleep.”

Well, that was new.

You gave Bucky a funny look but nodded. “Okay. Call if you need me.”

Bucky didn’t say anything after that. He just walked back to his room.

Your pop tarts popped out from the toaster. After that it was left untouched.

Steve cleared his throat. “[Y/N] – ” 

You shook your head. “Nope.”

Steve’s forehead frowned. “What?”

“Do you want Bucky to get over what HYDRA did to him?” You asked. You didn’t wait for him to reply. “Well, too bad so sad, he isn’t going to get over it. Bucky needs to accept it. Then he needs to be angry. Then he needs to be sad. Then after all that, he needs to forgive himself.” You said, your hands on your waist. “And you making him feel like broken glass isn’t gonna help. It’ll confine him and make him feel crazy. Treat him like a normal person, you jackass. Let him feel like a man. Not a baby.” You took a deep breath and pulled your eyes away from his piercing blue ones. You looked at your pop tarts briefly before turning around and walking away.

And you didn’t miss his look when you did. Steve had already realised he was wrong the moment his eyes fell on the toaster.

You left your pop tarts.




Look number nine:

Again, it was in the kitchen. Bucky’s nightmares were slowly fading. Whenever he woke, you’d stay until he fell back asleep. Then you’d proceed to the kitchen and rummage for food.

“Hey, Supreme Leader.” Your head snapped towards the kitchen entrance.

You gave a nod to the blond man in acknowledgement. “Captain.” You said in a mocking soldier’s tone.

You both stood in silence for a while. You didn’t mind it for a while. Your arms were preoccupied with balancing cartons and containers of food as you boldly chewed on your Lucky Charms cereal – and then the silence just got too long. Steve stared at you with a funny look. Eh, eating cereal without milk at three in the morning wasn’t all that unusual – but for some reason, you had a really big feeling the look wasn’t about the cereal. That was actually the reason why Tony always complained about all the marshmallow gone in the morning. Not your fault. Marshmallows were the best part and everyone knew that.

You squinted your eyes as you watched him watch you. A silent growl of impatience rose to your throat. You couldn’t really speak so you opted with growling.

Still no reply.

Finally, you forcefully swallowed your marshmallow and pointed an accusing finger at Steve. His look was different again. It wasn’t annoyed or of frustration. Really it just frustrated you.

You huffed. “You’re looking at me funny.”

Steve just smiled softly. “Bucky loves you.” He said from his position by the entrance of the kitchen.

You just smirked and shoved another handful of marshmallows into your mouth. “Figured that one out a long time ago, Rogers.” Your hand reached into the box once again. “What can I say, I’m good at making friends.” 

Steve chuckled silently. Then he swallowed and looked directly into your eyes. “I love you. And not the way Bucky does.”

You swallowed. The you nodded slowly. Your heart felt so full, you had no idea what to say. And so you said the first thing that popped into your head. You said what you would say, and not stupid Nicholas Sparks movies.

“I know.” You grinned. “And I may or may not feel the same.” Before he could reply, your smile wiped off as you pointed your finger at him again accusingly, “I said maybe.”

You Understand, Right?

Characters: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader / Friend!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader / Friend!Reader, Bobby, John

Length: 1663+ words

TW: Suicide. Depression. Abandonment. Dean being a jerk. 

A/N: Another word vomit that I did when I couldn’t sleep last week. I just had the idea in my head for the whole night, and I knew if I didn’t write it down, I wouldn’t be able to remember it the next morning. So, here it is! Feedback is encouraged!

SERIES MASTERLIST


The thing about the Winchester family was that they collect family like one would collect dolls. They have a lot of family around the State, any of them willing to do anything for the brothers. They always had a saying. 

Family doesn’t end in blood.

Except it does. They can say it as many times as they want, but there isn’t anything they wouldn’t do for the family. Their blood family. 

You were 4 when you were collected by John, and shipped off to Bobby’s. You were basically raised alongside the brothers from then on. Sam being a year older than you, and his brother, Dean, being 5 years older than you.

You were 5 when Dean ran out of breakfast. Bobby, and John were gone on a hunt, leaving 10 year-old Dean in charge. There was half a single granola bar left, and he looked uneasily between you and Sam, both of you had complained about being hungry. He gave you a strange look, and even though you were 5, you knew what it meant. Afterall, John gave you the same look when he told you why you can’t come home to your parents. It was also the same look that Bobby gave you when you asked about your parents. The look of guilt. You turned away, not being able to handle the fact that his decision had already been made when he was 4, and the responsibility of Sam’s livelihood was thrusted into his hands.

“Not hungry,” you mumbled, despite your roaring stomach. Sam’s eyes lit up with glee as he snatched the snack from his brother’s hand, and you can see Dean’s face visibly relax.

“Sammy’s my responsibility. You understand, right?” Dean asked, a hopeful smile on his face.

You gave him a nod, hopping off the chair, and went back to your bed, hoping you can sleep away the hunger. 

Keep reading

Knight in Shining Armor (Steve Harrington x Female Reader)

Requested by: @cometoceantrenches ( Okie since you take requests, is it okay if you write smth with our boi Steve where the reader drops off their younger sister at the Snow Ball the same time Steve drops off Dustin but Steve offers to take the reader home but they end up at a cafe or smth and talk abt the crazy stuff that happened (fighting the demodogs and all that) and end up confessing to each other?? im sorry if its long af, you just write rlly well *ugly cries*)

Summary: While waiting for the Snow Ball to end, Steve and you catch up at a local cafe where they recount the events of the demo-dogs, and then conversation becomes personal.

Word Count: 3013

Warnings: fluffy af and some smooches. Also get’s a bit emotional towards the end. lets also assume he’s always ooc to me

Note: if there is another gif that kills me it’s also this one!  I kind of just a little went overboard and it’s pretty long but I HOPE YOU LIKE IT! Enjoy!!!

Minor Spoilers of Season 2!!

Originally posted by mikkeljensen

“Do I look okay?” your sister Jen asked for the 100th time from the backseat of your mother’s car. You rolled your eyes, not even bothering to look at her.

“You look great, Jen,” you replied.

“You didn’t even look!” she cried.

For perhaps the third time you spun yourself around to take a look at your sister who was all dolled up and ready for the Snow ball.

“You look beautiful, now stop asking and stop touching your hair,” you slapped her hand away lightly, she flinched and grumbled. You knew she had a crush on one of the boys there, she just wouldn’t tell you who it was. But by how nervous she was, and how she was acting, you knew what was bothering her.

“Hey…whoever this boy you’re crushing over…he’s gonna think you’re the most beautiful girl in the room okay? And he’s going to ask you to dance,” you said, fixing her hair for her. Jen blushed.

“And if he doesn’t?”

You scoffed, “Then he’s a damn idiot, and you’re too good for him,” Jen let out a laugh. Your mother glanced at you two before pulling up in front of the school, behind another car who was dropping off their kid.

Unfortunately for you, your mother had wanted you to stick around the parking lot all night and wait for the Snow ball to end. Also, it was really, really cold out there. But, you didn’t want your mom to worry over Jen all night, so you agreed to stay. You would find something to do, even if that included freezing to death.

Death. Hah. That word honestly didn’t even faze you that much anymore, not after what had occurred in the past month. Images of alien like dog creatures Dustin had called ‘Demo-dogs’ flashed through your mind, especially of the one he called ‘Dart’ who nearly chewed your face off. And then there was that girl with the slicked back hair who everyone seemed to recognize except for you and Steve. Apparently, she had superpowers and helped close the gate and saved the world or something. You honestly didn’t know what to believe, or even do with all this newfound information.

You guessed life would just go on eventually, and somehow you’d manage to live past it.

You stood next to your sister, both of you waving good-bye to your mother, who yelled, “Have a good time and be safe!” before driving off and out of the drop-off zone. Jen sighed, flattening down her light pink dress.

“Are you really going to stay out here all night?” Jen asked as you both walked towards the entrance, you shrugged.

“It’ll be fun- staying out here all by myself in the freezing cold in order to avoid my past middle school teachers trying to catch up with me,” Jen laughed, stopping in front of the entrance and turning to face you.

“Are you sure I look okay, (y/n)?”

You glared slightly at her, pretty sure she’s just taking in the compliments, but you just smiled and held a thumbs up. Jen was about to speak before her eyes caught something behind you. Her cheeks suddenly turned the same color as her dress. You raised a brow, and turned around, seeing who had made her all flustered.

“Dustin?” you asked, the younger boy was surprised to see you here, but not as surprised as you when you saw how much his hair looked super familiar.

“What are you doing here, (y/n)?” he asked, you tore your eyes from his hair and pointed behind you.

“Just dropping off Jen-” but when you turned around, she was gone and already in the gym. You blinked, huffing slightly as you realized that Dustin was the boy she was so keen on. You laughed lightly, thinking that it was the cutest thing ever.

Your mind went back to Dustin’s hairstyle the moment you looked back at him.

“Okay- tell me right now…is Steve your role model or something?” You asked, jokingly. Dustin gave you an annoyed look before you chuckled, “You look great kiddo, now go in there and for the love of god find Jen and ask her to dance,” you winked. Dustin furrowed his eyebrows.

“Wait- what? really?”

You clicked your tongue before your eyes went to the car Dustin had gotten out of. Your jaw dropped when you instantly recognized it as Steve’s. Dustin noticed your excitement and gave a smug smile.

“He’s staying because he saw you and is hoping you’ll go over there to talk or something,” he said nonchalantly, you side-glanced Dustin, seeing him look at the car and wave. You can just feel Steve’s glare on the kid. You merely laughed it off.

“Don’t you have a ball to attend, kid?” you asked, Dustin cursed softly and walked into the entrance, muttering something about asking Jen to dance, a cheeky grin on his face. You shook your head, crossing your arms against your chest before turning and starting to walk over to Steve’s car.

You leaned down to his open window, a toothy grin and asked, “Is that you Steve? My knight in shining armor?” Steve smiled at the sight of you, and waved your comment off.

“Yeah, the one and only,” he responded, knowing you were referring to when he saved you from losing your face to some demo-dog, “Are you going to head home?”

You shook your head.

“Gotta stay here until it ends and make sure Jen is still alive after or something,” you shrugged, Steve laughed.

“Oh no- that’s not okay,” he said, “As your knight in shining armor, I’m going to save you from freezing to death…” he reached over and opened the car door, his other hand still resting on the wheel. You put your hand over your heart.

“Wow…what a gentlemen,” you commented as you climbed into his car, Steve shrugged, eyes still resting on you. You didn’t notice the way he stared at you, like Dustin had noticed when Steve pulled up and saw you.

“That’s what I am, didn’t you know?”

You just hummed, hugging your arms closer to you. Steve noticed, eying your shivering form before an idea popped in his mind.

“Wanna go get a warm drink or something?” he asked, you tilted your head in thought.

“Warm drink? You mean like coffee?” you asked, a playful glint in your eyes.Steve stared at you for a moment, before realizing how stupid he must sound.

“I said that…” he muttered. You snickered, but nodded.

“Yeah, I could go for a warm drink…” Steve cracked a smile, eyes still lingering on yours before starting his car. When he looked away as he began to drive out of the parking lot, you looked at the side of his face, thinking you saw a shade of pink on his cheeks…but it was too dark.

Keep reading

Promise*

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
Rating: Explicit - 18+ only
Summary: Reader, being reckless gets hurt on a mission. Days later, when she gives her final report to her boyfriend Steve, it provokes an argument between them.
Word Count: 3.5k
Genre: general fiction containing explicit sexual content.
Warnings: argument, mild swearing, mentions of death. NSFW/SMUT: makeup sex, praise kink, soft dirty talking, nipple play, oral sex (female receiving), slow fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, and semi-protected sex. - This fic assumes Reader is on the pill. [Cover your stone before you bone!]
Author’s Note: especially written for @always-an-evans-addict‘s writing challenge. I hope you like this one, sweetie.

   New Avengers Facility

“Steve, you read my report and Wanda told you what happened. That’s it. Can’t we just move on?”

“That’s it? That’s it?!”

Behind the closed door of your boyfriend’s office, you uncomfortably explained yourself, keeping in mind that people around you could probably sense the walls vibrating under the force of your voices.

You’d never thought that blowing out the last Hydra base found in Argentina would provoke such a drama within the team, or between you and the super soldier. Usually, you and Steve argued about the group’s mistake, not yours. When the incident happened in South America, you realized that if Wanda hadn’t been there, you probably wouldn’t be alive today.

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A Good Thing

“Bobby, you can’t keep doing that to him.”
Bob raises his eyebrows, putting down his fork. “Doing what, Alicia? Corralling our son into talking about his crush?”
“Exactly.”

Or, A fic about Bob and Alicia noticing Jack’s feelings for Bitty before even he does.


Bob Zimmermann is kind of messy, only a bit of a smart ass, and just a tad hard of hearing. Yet even without perfect hearing Bob can’t miss the affection in his son’s voice when talking about a certain line-mate.

Bob Zimmermann is many things, but he is no idiot.

“Did you get that paper done for your…what was it again- american pie class?”

Bob looks over his shoulder just in time to see Alicia send an appraising look from the couch. He catches a hint of a smile.

He winks back and she rolls her eyes in return.

Bob turns again to the large window, the white light blinding him for a moment. The large expanse of grass is still littered with snow, lining the way down to their lake. A blank sky hugs the horizon.

“Women, food, and American culture, Papa.”

“Right. So how’d you do on the paper? Did Eric help you out?”

Keep reading

Do you ever shut up?

Desc: Richie Tozier is notorious for having the worlds biggest crush on Y/N, Bill’s older sister. The only problem was the fact that Y/N was in an exclusive relationship with Henry Bowers. Push comes to shove rapidly and soon Y/N is kidnapped by the one and only Pennywise, will they get to her in time?

Pairing: Reader/Richie Tozier

Warning: Harsh language, mentions of sex.


Do you ever shut up?

It was no secret that Richie liked Y/N, everyone knew and no one really cared. In all honestly they simply expected it to be puppy love, something he would outgrow once he saw another hot girl wandering around innocently. But, what they didn’t know was that it wasn’t just puppy love to him. It was more like infatuation, a craving, actual love. Unfortunately, Y/N was off limits, as Bill had said numerous times. That, and she didn’t really think Richie’s jokes were very funny either. She actually found them to be rather rude, ignorant even, but she let it slide. He wasn’t hurting anyone, she didn’t think.

She knew well that Henry Bowers, her exclusive boyfriend, wasn’t the best person in the world. He wasn’t a saint, but who was? Y/N knew that everyone deserved a chance to change, a chance to be happy. But, Henry never seemed to change his ways, he was still the school bully who had children cowering when he walked by, and Y/N was known throughout the school as ‘Henry Bowers Girlfriend.’ She was certain they never called her by name.

It was either that, or ‘Stuttering Bill’s sister’ or even perhaps, 'Georgie Denbrough’s sister, the kid who died.’ Really this had grown to make Y/N very uncomfortable. She was her own person, not just Bill and Georgie’s sister, not just Henry Bowers girlfriend.

*

At this current moment in time, Y/N was saying her goodbyes to the losers’, having to go home and help her mother with dinner and cleaning for a bit (she was certain it was Bill’s turn, but he argued against it.)

“I’ll buh-be home in a fuh-few hours.” Bill said, as Y/N waved them off and left to go home, fixing her hair as she walked.

”She really looks good from the back, and the front.“ Richie stated, adjusting his large glasses on his nose. This remark didn’t go unnoticed, a series of groans and eyerolls took over for the moment before Beverly stepped in to break the silence.

“Beep beep, Richie.” She said rather sternly, leaning back in her seat, she was rather annoyed at the inappropriate comment but definitely not as annoyed as Bill.

“T-that’s my sister, idiot. Duh-don’t talk about her l-like that.“ Bill stated blandly, clearly uncomfortable with the comment himself, and certain that Y/N would ultimately destroy Richie for a comment like that.

”It’s not my fault she’s hot…“ He paused for a moment, as if thinking it over before starting to speak again. ”And kind, and funny, and sweet, and—“ he was cut off by Stan talking over him.

”Dude, do you actually like her?“ Stan spoke, his voice slightly deeper than the other losers’, which they just expected it was because he was a little older than them.

Richie hadn’t noticed the opened-mouthed gazes that were trained to his face and the wide eyes searching for a hint of a lie. But Richie wasn’t lying. He really did think all those things about Y/N, but he knew the Henry would literally kill him for saying any of it.

“Do you ah-actually like my s-sister, Trashmouth?” Bill asked in utter astonishment, causing Richie to sink into his seat in embarrassment and shrug a little.

*

It had been three or four days since the losers’ realised that Richie wasn’t just chasing Y/N for her looks and since then it had been tense in the group everytime the two were together. Y/N didn’t really understand why everyone was so quiet whilst they were out, walking along the river bank in the mid afternoon sun. Beverly and Y/N had been talking, but it was low, almost like a whisper as they spoke as if the others would be mortified at their conversation.

It didn’t take long before they had ran into Henry and his group, minus Patrick who had been missing for several days. This utterly let to a panic within the losers’ but they seemed to remain calm, all of which were rather frightened besides Y/N.

“Hey Losers’, if you’re trying to get into her pants–” he stopped speaking to point a finger in Beverly’s direction, Y/N falling unnoticed, “All you have to do is ask nicely like I did.” He spoke with a wicked grin on his face, like something straight out of a thriller movie.

It was clear that the remark hit Beverly hard, but it hit Y/N equally as hard when she realised what he had said. In a fit of rage, Y/N picked up the biggest rock she could find and flung it as hard as she could. Her throw coming out rather well, hitting Henry on the forehead with enough force to draw blood.

“What the fuck!?” Henrys voice sounded from across the new-found battlefield as he chucked another rock back at her but failed to hit her or do any serious damage to anyone else.

”Rock War!“ sounded out from the losers’ side of the river as sudden airborne rocks were flying back and forth.

Even in this instance, Y/N felt like she was having the time of her life. She didn’t really care that after this her and Henry would be over for good, in fact she was incredibly happy about that. A smile spread over her face, even when a rock hit her painfully in the side. She had no idea how her and Bill would explain the deep purple bruises to their parents later, but she didn’t care anymore. This felt like a new beginning to her, she felt more welcome with the losers’ than she ever had with Henrys obnoxious clique.

She felt alive!

Once the final rocks were thrown, Henrys gang started to back up a bit, having suffered the most.

“Yeah! That’s right! Fuck off and go back to blowing your dad!“ Richie shouted from their spot a few meters away. There was a silence for a moment.

“And stay away from my girl!” He finished with, and Y/N didn’t care a single bit.

*

The bruises took several days to heal, turning from purple to a bluish shade, to a deep red and vanishing entirely. Y/N and Bill had been interrogated by their parents once they got home, but they simply smiled at each other and answered with blatant lies. Once their parents had bought it, the siblings it would be best to stay inside till the bruises healed once and for all.

Y/N sat by the window, the rain pattering against the glass in an almost rhythmic pattern. Her fingers followed the small drops as they raced down the glass, and she rested her head against the cool window. Looking out into the street she was almost certain she had seen a flash of yellow and red running by, and when she looked again she found herself staring at a small newspaper boat, with ’S.S Georgie’ scrawled messily along the side. Tied to it floated a red balloon which carried it with ease down the street as a little boy ran after it in a yellow slicker and red galoshes.

Y/N couldn’t believe her eyes, a sense of delight washing over her as she pulled on her fushia coloured rain coat and ran outside, slamming the door behind herself and chased the small boy down the street, calling out 'Georgie? Georgie!’ every time she got the chance. Deep down, a small part of her understood that Georgie wasn’t actually coming home, that he was almost definitely killed. But, she couldn’t help with hope and pray to God that this was Georgie by some convenience.

She ran after the child with every inch of energy in her body but he always seemed just out of reach, that was until she rounded the corner and came face to face with something she dreaded the most. A clown. A clown with a twisted grin on his makeup clad face. She suppressed a scream, her hand to her mouth and her teeth digging into the side of her pale skin. She noticed the one-armed boy standing behind the clown with his boat in his hands and recognised him as her brother. And then everything went black.

*

She awoke soon after, still face to face with the God-awful clown that she hated ever so much, yet this time there was no Georgie and this didn’t seem like the upper ground of Derry anymore. In fact, it seemed more like the sewers, and her suspicion didn’t go astray. She was shaking, her hands and knees trembling and her bottom lip quivering as if holding back tears, but she slapped on a confident expression.

“Why are you doing this?” She cried out at last, only to be met with a bizarre smile and a finger pressed to the clowns lips. She stopped speaking just long enough to hear the thudding of someone walking along the sewer pipes, then it came to sound like a group of people.

Y/N wanted to cry, she wanted to scream and tell them to go back and leave her here. To save themselves from their independent doom, but she couldn’t. She simply found herself in an utter trance, staring into the clowns eyes, that was until the losers’ burst into the sewer baring what seemed to be weapons of some sort or another.

“Fucking clowns..” Richie spoke through gritted teeth before they each took their fair share of clown beating till the monster clawed its way away from them, leaving Y/N dazed and confused before spotting the rather bloody, bruised, and ridiculous looking group of teenagers.

Y/N had never been so pleased, she ran forward and incased Bill in the worlds tightest hug, muttering apologies and thank you’s for what seemed like forever.

“Hey! I was the one who figured out where you were and what had happened.” Richie fummed unhappily, rather jealous that he didn’t receive the same attention as her brother did.

“Well then thank you too, Trashmouth.” Y/N laughed as she pulled him into an equally tight hug, an endless smile on her face.

“Really it was nothing, could have…would have done it anyday for you Y/N, It wasn’t that big a deal I mean anyone could have done it–” Richie proceeded to boast, gaining a playful eyeroll from Y/N.

“Beep beep Richie.” She stated simply, gaining a strange look from Richie before she pressed her lips to his, and for a moment Richie could have sworn his heart completely stopped.

Once she had pulled away, both were red faced and flustered, though Richie was so close to passing out it was almost unreal. He simply couldn’t say another word besides 'Awesome!’, and honestly Y/N was sure everyone else in the room groaned in annoyance at the sudden display of affection.

Y/N couldn’t have been happier.


{For the lovely Anon who sent me four different asks with so much detail, I absolutely loved writing this!

I hope this is good enough for you! Please keep in mind I haven’t proof read it so there may be some grammar or spelling mistakes throughout, I’m so very sorry. Also, I’m not sure how long it is, so I apologise if it’s too short!}

Come Back to Me (Part One)

Fandom: Marvel
Ship: Peter Parker x Reader
Requested: No, but taken from this prompt list: “Just… come back alive, okay?”
Genre: Low-key angst??
Warnings: Spiderman Homecoming spoilers
Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

Originally posted by j-murphy

Your best friend had raved on and on about asking his crush to the dance, and when he finally did it, you were the first he told. You pretended to be excited for him, and in a small way, you genuinely were. But when you thought of Liz slow-dancing with Peter instead of you, and him kissing her at the end of the night and not you, the excitement for him was largely overshadowed by sadness, because it would never be you. He would never have feelings for you.

So when you saw Liz walk into the Homecoming dance without Peter on her arm, your eyebrows furrowed. She walked around, greeting people everywhere around her, when she made her way to your group with Ned and Michelle. 

“Hey guys!” She said excitedly and smiled, and you forced a smile back. She was a nice girl; you couldn’t deny that. She was good for Peter.

“Hey,” you said back. “Where’s Peter? I thought he’d be with you,” you tried to keep your voice casual, but Michelle caught your eye and smirked. She knew your secret. 

“Oh, he’s in the car with my dad. He should be here soon,” she smiled again, dazzling one, before excusing herself to greet more partygoers. You turned around to face your two friends, fake smile still on your face.

“You okay?” Ned asked, a sympathetic expression on his face that you didn’t see often. He knew your secret too.

(It wasn’t much of a secret to anyone but Peter.)

“I’m okay,” you gave a real smile this time, and his eyes shifted to somewhere behind you. You stiffened, knowing your best friend was here. You turned around, seeing a panicked look on his face, but you knew that you were the only one who could tell his expression. You’d known each other for years; you knew all of his in-and-outs.

He went up to Liz and tapped her on the shoulder, and as he spoke to her, you saw his expression become guilty. You couldn’t see Liz’s because her back was turned to you, but you were sure it wasn’t pleasant. You saw him mouth ‘I’m sorry’ before sprinting through the gym doors and into the hallways of the school. 

Before you knew what you were doing, you were running after him. You abandoned your shoes after crashing through the gym doors and followed him barefoot. “Peter!” You yelled and turned another corner, but he continued to sprint farther ahead of you. After yelling his name again and turning a few more corners he stopped in front of a set of lockers and turned around to look at you.

“(Y/N), go back to the dance,” he said, the panic now even more evident on his face.

“No,” you said stubbornly. “What do you think you’re doing? You’ve been looking forward to this for so long!” 

He simply shook his head before grabbing you by the shoulders and turning you around. “You need to go. Now.”

“No!” You pushed his hands away from you. He looked at you desperately. “What is going on with you?”

He turned away again and mumbled under his breath, pacing back and forth. 

“Peter,” you said his name again, softer this time, and grabbed his hand to stop his pacing. “I’m your best friend. You can tell me anything,” you say, ignoring the feeling erupting in your chest from him squeezing your hand. 

“I know, I know,” he whispered and stayed silent for a few moments, staring down at your connected hands, before sighing, pulling away from you, and turning towards the lockers again. He bent down and pulled the bottom of the lockers, and you gasped in shock when the wall of lockers lifted up to reveal a small crevice filled with multiple things. 

Peter pulled out a ball of red and blue fabric and unrolled it, then turned around to show you it. You stared at try fabric in his hands, seeing the spider on the front and the mask with goggles falling to the side. You stared at it, and stared at it, and stared at it, before it finally clicked. You had seen this suit on the news multiple times before, clad on a mystery man you had always found so brave. 

You looked up at Peter and noticed his nervous expression matching yours. “Why do you have Spiderman’s suit, Pete?” You whispered, and you knew why he had it, you knew, but you couldn’t bring yourself to comprehend it. 

“You know why, (Y/N),” he sighed and looked down at the wrinkled fabric in his hands. 

“I need to hear you say it,” your voice was still quiet, and you looked down at the suit again. 

“I’m Spiderman,” Peter finally said, and your resolve crumbled. Tears flooded your eyes and your vision became blurry, and a few tears fell down your cheeks.  You weren’t sure why you were crying. You didn’t know if it was the betrayal of him not telling you, or the fear of him getting hurt, or something else entirely. But the tears continued to fall. 

“(Y/N),” he sighed again, and pulled you into a hug. “It’s okay. Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know,” you sobbed and laughed and cried, and Peter hugged you and rubbed your back until you could compose yourself. You pulled back from him after a few minutes and wiped your face with your hands, sure you looked like a mess. “But why are you leaving now?”

He sighed for what seemed like the millionth time in the last few minutes. “You know the guy that I’ve been fighting? All the news channels have been talking about it. Or, who Spiderman has been fighting.”

You nodded. “That bird dude?” Peter laughed, a real smile on his face that made you smile too.

“Yeah, yeah, the bird dude.” He chuckled and looked down at his feet before beginning to back away. “I gotta go. He’s gonna steal from Mr. Stark’s plane, and I need to stop him.”

“But why now,” you stressed, taking steps closer to him. “It’s our Homecoming.”

“He’s Liz’s dad,” he said, not actually answering the question, and you gasped.

“Liz’s dad?” Peter nodded. “Does she know?” He shook his head, backing away again.

“I really have to go, (Y/N),” he said, and went to turn around. 

“Wait!” You grabbed his hand again, and he looked at you expectantly. “I, um,” you wanted to tell him, you needed to tell him before it was too late. But you didn’t want to burden him before he went to risk his life. So instead of telling him what you desperately wanted to, you pulled him into a hug. 

He breathed deeply, resting his chin on top of your head as you listened to his heartbeat under your ear. You pulled back the slightest bit to look him in the eyes. “Just… come back alive, okay?” 

He smiled lightly and moved his hands from your back to your hands. “I always do.” He squeezed them once and let go, grabbing the suit from where he dropped it on the floor and running away from you. You sniffed loudly as he turned a corner, disappearing from your vision, and the sound echoed through the empty hallways. 

You began to walk back to the dance, wiping at your face again and collecting your discarded shoes to make yourself presentable. And as you made your way through the school by yourself, you thought, Good luck, Spiderman.

******************
This is my first Peter piece that I’ve written in a while, so I hope everyone liked it! Feedback is always welcome! Requests for Tom Holland and Peter Parker imagines are open, so feel free to send one in! 

~e

Skyline {V}

Originally posted by hardyness

Warnings: none

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 3k

A/N: So I originally intended for this to be the last part of Skyline, but because things needed to be explained so much, the story is getting a bit longer than I anticipated.  For that reason, there will be a Skyline pt. 6!!  I almost wish there wasn’t, because I love the evenness and finality of five parts, but what can you do.  Special thanks to Zoe and Jen for helping me brainstorm ideas, and for giving me feedback!!  Also, just a reminder, I do not have a tags list!!  I really hope you guys enjoy pt. 5!!!

{part I} {part II} {part III} {part IV}

You really had no idea how Spider-Man did it.  How could he walk around in his civilian life, bursting at the seams with the secret of his powers, and not tell anybody?  How could he stay up half the night roaming the streets of Queens and keeping them safe?  How did he balance his hero responsibilities with those of a typical teenager?  You were sure that, if the radioactive spider had bitten you, you would not have been able to handle it like Spider-Man did.

You felt the change immediately when you woke up the morning after your night with Spider-Man. After crossing all those lines that the two of you had so carefully left uncrossed for months, you had stayed up almost all night, just talking (and also kissing a little bit?  But really, could anyone blame you?  He was a super hero).  Once Spider-Man had left around four am, you had had less than two hours of sleep once your alarm rang at six.  And by the time you made it to school, you had felt like death warmed over. That day had been a groggy fog of trying to stay awake and coherent until school was over, and you were tucked away in your cozy bed.

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Bruise [ VIII ]

Genre [Rating] : Angst [M]

Length: 6k

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Summary: He wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his, but that couldn’t stop your heart from believing otherwise.

Bruise Masterlist

Originally posted by missmanfreda

The jacket around your chest felt too loose, cheeks puffy as the cool air nipped at them while you shuffle your feet against the damp pavement. The snow had melted but the low temperature had stayed, the ground covered by thin patches of ice. It was far too late out to be alone in front of the convenience store, but the buzzing of your phone fifteen minutes before hand had been enough to drag you outside at the hour. You’d wanted to see Chanyeol for days,  the both of you so busy you still hadn’t gotten a chance to see eachother more than a few minutes for an entire week. You’d been trying to focus on the overwhelming amount of coursework professors were dumping on you, while Chanyeol was having a busy time at the studio; at least that’s what he said.

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Dating Richie Tozier Would Include...

- This is how you met

- After that, as the school year went on, the group he hung around clicked into place and you were happy to be part of it.

- Bill, Stan and Eddie were confused at why you and Richie suddenly liked each other, but they grew to like you too.

- Sass competitions. All the time.

- Getting Richie out of trouble is your job, usually.

- “WHAT HAPPENED?

- *Richie, with his heavily ruffled hair, bleeding lip and bruised EVERYTHING.* “I ran into a lamp post?

- *You raise an eyebrow*

- “…You know how Patrick Hockstetter always brings vodka to school?

- “Please no.

- “I may or may not have replaced it with vinegar. And bug replant.

- “I…I can’t even complain that sounds amazing.” 

- Stealing wearing his glasses.

- He acts pissed off but secretly thinks it’s kinda hot. 

- You help him when his mom having an episode, which happens a lot. Richie actually likes spending the night at your house because:

+ Movie nights™

+ Cuddles for hours

+ Junk food for days

+ Kissing sometimes gets heated, in the best way

+ You randomly boop his nose because fuck it he’s so cute

- When his mom is completely out of control he comes to your house with a hand shaped bruise on his cheek and you feel the urge to march right back to his house and punch her.

- You tried to help but he wouldn’t look you in the eye.

- Gently stroking his bruised cheek until he calms down.

- Richie doesn’t think you noticed that his eyes were red and watery but you did.

Even more cuddling

+ He’s the little spoon when he’s sad ‘cuz he likes to have your arms around his waist and you hug him from the back like a koala. You usually sling one leg over his hip and pull him closer 

+ Falling sleep on the couch

- You knew he only cussed to get the attention his mother never gave him, and you cussed right along with him so he wouldn’t feel alone. You knew that he needed attention so you gave it to him.

- Getting super defensive when people at school call him “Bucky Beaver” because of his buck teeth and glasses.

- You never call him this in public for the sake of his “trashmouth, practical joker” imagine but in private his nickname is Bambi because of his big doe eyes.

+ “I swear to god if you call me that one more ti-

+ “Mmm, sure Bambi.

+ He secretly loves how softly you say it. 

- You never told the other Losers that you were dating him, until Ben walked in on the two of you making out kissing a bit.

- To quote Ben: “I’m not even going to ask.”

- Over the summer you get a hammock

+ Sleeping on Richie’s chest

+ This boi has one foot on the ground so he can rock the hammock to keep you asleep

+ Cuz he thinks you look adorable when you’re dreaming

- When the missing children reports become too frequent Richie holds your hand a little bit tighter.

- You weren’t there when he was attacked by “It” but you knew something was wrong the moment you saw him.

- When he found a missing kid poster with his face on it in the Neibolt House, you were the one to tell him it wasn’t real. He wouldn’t be forgotten like the other kids as long as you were alive to remember.

+ Also you MAY have grabbed the paper, torn it to pieces, thrown the torn bits on the floor and stomped on them like a rabid donkey. For good measure.

+ *Richie has never felt so many emotions at the same time in his life*

- When Bill and Richie get into a fight after Neibolt House you were there to pick Richie off the ground but he swats your hand away.

- You’re shocked because no one will listen to you and Beverly.

- Trying to explain that IT will kill all of you if you split up. It’s no use. Even Richie stomps away.

- You attempt to pull him back to Bill so they could work it out but he nearly throws you to the ground to get your hand off his arm.

+ So, since his rudeness rubbed off on you, you punched him

+ By “accident”

- And for the entire month that the Losers were split up, so were you and Richie. 

- To get your mind off all the clown shit you went to the arcade. Well a humdidum dumbass is what you are because the arcade is where Richie is. ALL. THE. TIME. 

- But again, his stubbornness rubbed off on you, so even when you saw him, you refused to leave and resorted to avoiding him. You weren’t sure if he saw you; he was really into his game.

- And at 10:30, when the arcade was technically closed, he was still inside. He probably gave the owner money to let him stay. 

+ The arcade to Richie was like a bar to adults; a way to forget.

- You sat on the curb outside the arcade, sipping a slushie. You were supposed to go home, but since the clown at Neibolt you were scared of the flickering street lamps that lined your way home, and the arcade and other shops gave off a nice, bright light.

+ It was comforting in a way. Very aesthetic. 

- And Richie almost falls down on the curb next to you

- You want to be mad, but he looks so tired from staring at a screen all day, although you suspect the video games aren’t the reason his eyes are glassy.

- “Got kicked out?

- “Yeah.

- “Out of house or arcade?

- “…Both.

- You stand up and hand him the slushie, which he sips gratefully.

- “You’re leaving?

- He looks exactly like a puppy, with huge brown eyes and messy hair. Well, a puppy in glasses, anyway. 

- “If I’m leaving, you’re leaving with me.

- Richie gives you a sleepy smile and takes you hand.

+ The entire way to your house he slumps against you, sometimes falling asleep mid step and his head falls on your shoulder.

- This boi. This fUCKING BOI. WHO PLAYED VIDEO GAMES FOR EIGHT HOURS STRAIGHT. IS USING YOU AS A PILLOW.

- At one point he closes his eyes and walks with them closed, his cheek pressed against your shoulder for support.

- Remember those nights when he comes over after a really bad day? This is one of them.

- So for the night, you and him are too tired to think about the huge fight.

- In the morning tho, you wake up to slightly burnt bacon and very burnt toast.

- Which would be nice, but..

- “How did you burn the toast but not the bacon? The toaster has a TIMER.

- “It’s called Satan’s charcoal bread dispenser and you’re welcome.”

+ He’d feel soo bad for fighting with you??? Like, REALLY BAD

+ I mean, you did punch him in the face, so you and him were kinda even, but he still did all this extra shit

+ Playing with your hair

+ Sharing chocolate stolen from the store

+ Braiding your hair and you’re like “Richie??? You’re very good with your hands???

- Yeah… you probably shouldn’t have said that.

- Richie never stops smirking. Holy fuck.

- “You know what else I can do wit-

- “NO! Nope! No, no, no. Keep doin’ what you’re doing and shut up.

- Really though, no fucking white paper-ass motherfucking bitchass dumbass pixie stick addict looking clown with a shitty pumpkin guts Halloween wig could break you and Richie apart. Period. 


14 | You’ll Never Walk Alone

BTS + GOT7 X READER [GANG!AU]

WORD COUNT: 5,428

series warnings: mature themes, strong language, violence, substance abuse, eventual smut. this chapter contains graphic content such as violence, death, grief and injury recovery

Originally posted by jjeonguk

masterlist | ask | prev | next

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Your father would be proud of you.

When Lily Potter died to protect her son it cast a charm, an ancient type of magic, that would protect him. James Potter sacrificed himself for his wife and child, so why didn’t it work on them?

Just imagine though, Lily Potter hears a thud on the stairs and knows he’s gone. Tears begin to form in her eyes.

Voldemort intended to keep his promise to Snape, and as no major curses were doing damage, he simply immobilises her, forcing her to watch as he turns on Harry. The spell backfires, still giving Harry his infamous lightening scar.

Once the spell on her breaks, she rushed to Harry and takes him in her arms, rocking him to sleep. She whispers over and over again to him: “Your father would be so proud of you.”

She only turns away from him when Hagrid arrives, who then promises Dumbledore he’ll tell him how everything happened.

Sirius turns up merely moments later and he lets out a violent sob upon seeing his best friends body spread eagled on the stairs. He leans down and messes up his hair and straightens his skewed glasses. He then proceeds up the stairs and is suddenly staring into a pair of emerald eyes.

She places Harry down in the cot and then they collapsed in each other’s arms, both crying until the authorities turn up, removing James’ body and informing them on their capture of Pettigrew.

They walk slowly down the stairs, Lily almost collapsing under the weight of her every step. She almost loses it at the sight of the body bag containing her husband. Her young, brave, beautiful, handsome husband.

With Harry placed on her hip and Sirius at her side, she takes one last look at the house before grabbing the portkey and it disappears before her very eyes.

She cries some more and, despite telling herself she needs to be strong for her son, she just collapses into the wet gravel of the driveway of her new house: house for it is no home without her husband.

She feels something heavy slump around her shoulders and the strong potent smell of cigarettes climbs her nose. It’s not the vanilla and cinnamon she’d rather have, but it’s brotherly comfort and it’s safe.

She’s not quite sure how it’s happened but she’s inside with a mug of warm tea in her hand. It scolds as it runs down her throat but she doesn’t care, the momentary warmth subsides the pain.

Sirius also has a mug although she’s fairly certain he’s not drinking tea. The clear liquid stank of alcohol and she knew why he was drinking it- the burning sensation stays.

A knock on the door at around 7am awakens her from the trance she had entered, and the same looked like it could be said for Sirius.

He gruffly mumbles “I’ll get it.” before pulling out his wand and going to open the door. A look of shock passes his face as a tall figure steps inside.

“I’m sorry…” they both say at the same time before embracing each other. Sirius smells of cigarettes and lemon and it’s home. Remus smells of chocolate and some cheap liquor but finally it’s home.

“Remus…” She beckons and he walks towards her and is enveloped in a hug. He frantically whispers those two words over and over again as he begins to cry into her vivid auburn hair.

This is terrible, but it could’ve been worse. She could be dead. Harry could be dead. Her gorgeous son and her amazing husband could’ve both been taken from her and she knew she wouldn’t have coped at all.

The time would come where she would question what had happened. Why hadn’t she been killed? Why had he failed to kill Harry who was only a baby? And she got her answers, vague as they might be, but she got them.

In Harry’s first year she receives word of his heroic actions and she knows its the beginning of something.

In second year when she can’t find him on the platform she panics. She’d only gone through before him to meet Sirius and Remus and he wanted to wait for the Weasleys who weren’t there yet. Molly says that Ron and Harry were coming through last, but as the steam train rolls out of the station, she still hasn’t seen him anywhere.

She’s worried sick all afternoon until she receives a letter from Dumbledore explaining everything. Despite being so awfully mad, she can’t bring herself to send a howler. Instead she sends a note that reads: I’m incredibly angry with you but your father would be proud.

Remus and Sirius find it hilarious.

News comes that Pettigrew escaped although 3rd year would turn out pretty uneventful. Remus and Sirius move to Hogsmede as Remus takes the DADA job. Sirius and Harry catch up in Hogsmede at weekends.

He is somehow entered in the Trwizard tournament and Lily, Sirius and Remus watch anxiously at each stage. When Voldemort comes back and Harry sees his father, he sends a message back to his mother that he loves her very very much. She breaks down upon this and, when she sees Harry in the hospital she says: “Your father would be extremely proud of you”

Come 5th year Harry knows about the connection between himself and Voldemort and exploits it for his own purpose. He can tell the difference between fake and real images and instantly knows Sirius is okay. Instead, Dumbledore repeats the rest of the prophecy and Harry now knows he must be the one to kill Voldemort.

Sixth year meant Ginny and his mother couldn’t help but see the resemblance between the two of those and her and James. When she first gets news of the pair she sends a simple message: “Me and your father are so proud”

Upon coming back from the cave, Harry shows Sirius the locket, who obviously knows who RAB is. The hunt for the horcruxes has begun.

Harry refuses Remus and Sirius’ help. For a start, Dumbledore wanted him to do this alone and he has Ron and Hermione and he doesn’t think he needs much more. “Please, look after my mother”

They go into hiding, resurfacing only for the Battle of Hogwarts. Lily has to grab Ginny around the waist when she sees Harry in Hagrids arms, mainly so she had something to do instead of lash out but also because the poor girl needs it. And then he’s alive and the battle is back on.

Voldemort has fallen and her son is in her arms: “Your father would be so so so so proud of you.”

She’s crying on Sirius shoulder, sniffling into a a pearl coloured sleeve. “I do”. Sirius is crying too, trying to cover it up by burying his face in the crook of Remus’ neck.

Lily walked up to him, and kissed him on the cheek. ”Congrats, Kiddo. I’m proud of you. Your father would be proud of you.”

“Thanks Mum. Thanks dad”

Second Chances

Where you’re his ex-girlfriend and you see his new girlfriend wearing your t-shirt

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Masterlist linked in bio


Harry watches the wall clock as he waits patiently on his couch, counting the minutes until Y/n finally wakes up.

He’s barely slept all night, feeling a mix of anxiousness and misery as he thought of all the outcomes that could happen today. He also found himself looking at Y/n all night, watching her in her calmest state of mind and feeling a sense of tranquility as he sees her in her most beautiful form.

He could never get tired of it—admiring her in her sleep. But as the morning passed and the late afternoon started approaching, Harry didn’t know what the hell was going on.

She was still asleep, crashed on top of him as snores raided her mouth and the only movement being the slight rise and fall of her chest against his. He started to worry, solely for the fact that she slept at a completely reasonable time last night and was known to be an early riser. And since he barely got a blink of sleep, he knows she didn’t wake up for a second during the night.

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You Understand Right? (Part 2): What Happened?

Characters: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader / Friend!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader / Friend!Reader, Bobby Singer

Length: 1294+ words

TW: Suicide. Depression. Abandonment. Character Death. 

A/N: There was so much interest in continuing this fic! I am so glad you guys enjoyed it, and I really wasn’t expecting this to become a series! Feedback is encouraged!

SERIES MASTERLIST


“Dammit, Y/N! Don’t you dare hang up the phone! What the hell do you mean?!” Dean paced around his motel room, running his fingers through his hair continuously. They had just wrapped up a case in Nebraska, and was planning on visiting Bobby for some down time. Sam reminded his older brother that they haven’t seen Y/N in over several months, and he had been missing her.

“I understand, Dean,” she answered vaguely. Dean’s heart was thumping against his chest, as he tried to understand her message.

“What- What is it, sweetheart? What do you understand?” He started throwing clothes into his duffel bag, knocking on the bathroom door where Sam was currently showering.

“You and Sam need each other… But you don’t need me.” With that, she hung up.

“Y/N? Y/N?” Dean shouted into the phone, knowing that it would be futile. “Fuck.” He hung up his phone, and knocked louder against the bathroom door. “Sam! Get your ass out here.”

Sam opened the door with only his jeans, his face lined with annoyance. “The fuck Dean?”

“We’re leaving NOW!”

“What’s going on? Did you talk to Y/N?” Sam quickly put on his shirt, seeing the gravity of the situation in Dean’s eyes.

“Yea, but she kept saying things,” Dean answered vaguely, shaking his head as he continued to pack their stuff. 

“What did she say?”

“She kept saying how she understands- how she knows that we needed each other, but we don’t need her.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Why makes her think that? She knows we love her.”

“I have a bad feeling about this, Sam. C’mon.”

Both brothers made their way to Bobby’s house with tension between them. The four-hour trip only lasting 3 hours with Dean’s driving. Nothing else had been said. Nothing else needed to be said. Not until they find Y/N, hopefully alive. 

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