her-perfect-eyes

the colors of the night makes the city perfect, her eyes just like honey, the voices in the streets, music coming from fast cars, everything is so alive. I loved this moment so much. check my instagram for more pictures Paolo Raeli

Robb x Targaryen!Reader...

((I hope you all like! Might have gotten a little wordy! ALSO, anon, sorry I couldn’t find a way to add smut!))

Word Count: 2,218

Warning: None

He sat at the long table between his siblings and his mother. All six were true Starks, watching you with cold gazes that gave nothing away.

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Imperfect Celestial (Castiel x Reader)

Plot: Cas doesn’t understand why the reader feels so insecure. Why should she? To him, she’s the most beautiful thing in the Universe.

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Warning: Selfhate, Cas being a sweetheart, almost smut (Winchesters be cockblocking), lots and lots of fluff, angst

(In this fic, all the crap with April and Meg didn’t happen but I still hardcore ship Megstiel. I apologize because this is crappy.


Also look how pretty he is in the gif!)

Originally posted by thearronaut

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anonymous asked:

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

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


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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

However, her heart was already taken.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He grinned, returning his attention to her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Indeed?” he remarked, almost sly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“H-How-?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He held out a gloved hand to her.

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

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

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

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

Marinette sighed, her features relaxing in the process.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And that would be?”

Her blue eyes hardened.

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

Chat looked baffled at her demand.

“But why-?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Lady Marinette,

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

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

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

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

Sincerely Yours,

Adrien, Crown Prince of France

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

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


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

Take Your Child To Work Day

SPN FanFic

~Daddy Jared and Uncle Jensen get conned by your cutie-pie daughter~

Jared x Reader, OFC Juliana, Jensen

846 Words

Warnings: Daddy!Jared Fluff Feels? Idk. Nothing bad. 

A/N: I’m having feelings after the Padafamily picture, OK? Sue me. 



“Daddy are you gonna take me?” your daughter Juliana looked up at her father, wide eyed and inquisitive as always; her hazel eyes a perfect match for his.

Jared smiled his curious smile and shook his head quickly in confusion. “Take you where Jules?”

“To the work,” she said, sticking out her hip and leaning her hand on it just like you did. You laughed from your spot in the kitchen as you watched the scene unfold. For a five year old, she was sassy as hell.

“To my work?” he asked, holding back a laugh.

Jules rolled her eyes, “Yeah Daddy, it’s ‘Take Your Child To Work Day’. So you take your child to your work.”

Jared nodded, pretending to consider her question. He rubbed his chin and hummed. “Huh, well, it just so happens that Mommy has some scenes this week, so we’ll all be going to work tomorrow.”

It took a moment for the information to make it’s way past all the attitude, but finally Juliana understood and a bright smile grew on her little face. She clapped and ran into Jared’s open arms, squealing as he lifted her into the air with ease. “Thank you Daddy!”

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Prove It || Jack Maynard Imagine

“Would it be okay if I called you princess?” A voice whispers into my ear. I laugh rolling my eyes.

“What do you want Maynard?” I ask turning around to face him. We’re stood in a basically empty library, I was previously glancing over the many shelves.

“Go on a date with me?” He says grabbing my hand in his softly.

“We’ve been through this,” I say shaking my head averting my gaze from him and back to the many books. I pull my hand away from him to pull out a story.

“Yes,” He begins,“But I’ve also explained to you that I’m not that guy anymore.”

“Prove it,” I say crossing my arms over my chest, silently challenging him.

“Fine,” He says spinning on his heel, walking away from me.

What has gotten into that boy?

It had been a few days since the encounter with Jack at the library and I hadn’t seen him since. Joe and Conor have both tried to call me, but each and every time I would decline their calls. But today the both of them had been calling me constantly.

“Fucking hell,” I mutter under my breath answering the phone, “Hello?” my voice thick with annoyance.

“Finally,” Conor’s voice comes booming through the phone, “Have you been online today?”

“No?” I ask skeptically.

“Open your laptop and log into twitter,” Doing as he says my eyes trail over Jacks most recent tweet.

It’s a screenshot of a note that he had written on his phone. It reads,

There is this girl. She’s the most beautiful, smart, kind, funny. She’s perfect in every way imaginable. Her H/C hair, Her beautiful smile, her lips, her nose, her arms, her legs, her hands, her feet, Each and every part of this amazing human is absolutely perfect. Her eyes, her gorgeous H/C eyes, it’s my favorite color. She’s my best friend. She’s the single most intelligent person I know. But she has one fault… she doesn’t realize how amazing and beautiful she is.

My eyes well with tears.

She gets prettier and prettier each and every time I see her. She’s outstandingly gorgeous, but that’s the least interesting thing about her. She makes me laugh so hard that my sides ache, Smile so big that I feel that my cheeks are going to tear in half. She’s an absolute weirdo, but that’s one of the main reasons I like this girl.

“Y/N?” Conor’s voice breaks my thoughts.

“I need to talk to your brother,” I say distractedly, Searching for a jacket.

“No need, he’s outside your door.” Conor hangs up after that. Placing my phone down on the counter top, I rush over to the door, opening it at lightning speed.

“Jack,” I breathe, Eyes raking over his bashful face, and down to the bouquet of roses. My hands come up to cover my mouth.

“Okay, I’m going to ask you this one more fucking time,” He laughs making me laugh, “Y/N, you are my best friend, Will you please be my girlfriend?”

I bite my lip nervously, taking a step forwards towards him I place my lips on him softly.

Perfect

Author’s Note: I never write stuff. (I’m not just saying that. I’ve honestly NEVER written a fic.) but I listened to Perfect approximately one billion times and I could not get this scene out of my head. Thank you sooo much to @wildegreenlight for being my kind beta and @jenn582 and @thefinalhorcruxx for being my cheerleaders. Without them it’s unlikely I would have bothered to finish.

Written to and inspired by Ed Sheeran’s Perfect  played on endless repeat.

                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The song faded to an end and Ron pulled away from the girl clinging to his waist, looking down at her with a lopsided grin. He could hardly believe they’d been dancing since he’d impulsively whisked her away from Krum.

Hermione gazed up at him, slightly breathless, a question in her eyes.

“Follow my lead,” he winked, took her hand and spun her through the other dancers past the edge of the makeshift dance floor and out through a gap in the marquee.

After the suffocating warmth inside the tent, the fresh air felt brilliant on his skin as he turned to face her, “Hermione… can I show you something?”

Her cheeks were flushed from dancing and her curls were wild, escaping from the intricate updo she’d worn to the wedding. She looks perfect.

“Of course, Ron.”

Was he mental or were her eyes actually sparkling?

The sun had long since set, but the breeze still had a warmth to it. They slowly made their way through a field towards a small pond with a rickety dock. Ron hoped she wouldn’t notice that they were still holding hands or if she did, he silently begged that she wouldn’t let go.

“We’re here.”

Ron dropped himself unceremoniously onto the end of the dock, tugging his shoes off and quickly shoving his holey socks into them. He cuffed up the edge of his trousers and let his legs dangle over the edge, bare feet skimming the water below.

“Sit with me?”

Hermione laughed and slipped off her own shoes. Ron reached a hand up to help steady her as she settled down next to him. “What are we doing here Ron? I have seen this pond before you know…. many times.” She smiled up at him and playfully knocked her shoulder into his so he’d know she wasn’t actually upset.

“I… well. Yeah, no. I  just…”

“Ron?”

One hand went to rub the back of his neck and he took a deep breath, “I just wanted to spend a few minutes alone.” She arched a questioning eyebrow at him. “I mean, alone, with um.. yeah.. you.” His eyes flicked to hers briefly and then focused on the pond in front of them. He could feel the blush literally climbing his neck. Good one Ron. Real eloquent. Bloody ‘ell. Eloquent! That’s the kind of word he should be using. Not ones like ‘um and yeah.’

He felt her hand gently cover his, he turned his ever so slightly and his pulse quickened when she intertwined their fingers.

“This was a brilliant idea Ron,” she smiled at him. “After meeting so many new people tonight, the idea of being alone for a few minutes sounds wonderful. Alone… together.” There was that twinkle in her eyes again. He could get lost in her eyes.

As they sat there, holding hands in the silence, Ron gathered every bit of courage he had and started to slowly move his thumb across the soft skin of her hand. Hermione let out a breath he didn’t realize she’d been holding and her head gently fell to rest on his shoulder.

She’s an angel. I don’t deserve this.

He’d lost track of how long they’d been sitting together when the sudden sound of music from the reception broke the spell they were under and he quickly stood up, brushing his trousers off, “Suppose we should get back before they send the twins to find us, yeah?”

Hermione rose slower, trying to straighten out her dress. She looked beautiful in that dress. She always looked beautiful, but his heart near to stopped when she’d walked out of the Burrow in that dress. She followed him off the dock and onto the grass, looking self-conscious as she tried to tuck the flyaway curls behind her ear, “I’m a mess.”

His heart beat faster and suddenly he didn’t care if his mum sent every single one of his siblings and Aunt Muriel out to look for them. She looks perfect. How can she not know? “Dance with me.”

“Here?” she almost giggled. Hermione almost giggled..!

“Yeah,” he nodded his head towards the tent, feeling encouraged by her reaction, “I love this song.” He extended his hand.

She smiled at him shyly from beneath her lashes, dropped the heels she was holding in one hand and bypassed his extended arm to lay her head on his chest. 

His breath caught. What the bleedin’ell was she trying to do? kill him?

“I love this… song too.”

Ron swallowed hard and wrapped his arms around her waist. They’d been dancing together all night, but this time it was different. Familiar and yet completely new. Intense. It felt, somehow more; dancing in the dark, barefoot on the grass, with her between his arms.

They swayed together, the soft melody of a song in the distance floating in the air around them.

Life was about to change, it was going to be them against the odds. He should be terrified, but Hermione was the strongest woman he knew and Ron finally knew what he wanted. What he needed. The girl in his arms, and he was not going to give her up. They’d be alright this time.

Ron stilled and looked down, Hermione’s eyes were closed but her face was upturned towards his and there was a smile on her lips. He whispered beneath his breath, “darling, you look perfect.”

Her eyes flashed open and his heart pounded in his chest. Had he said that outloud?

Her smiled widened and she raised up on her toes, her face inches from his. He saw his future in those eyes. He lowered his lips towards hers….

CRACK! The sound of someone apparating nearby startled them apart.

“Oi!!! Ronnikins! ‘Ermione!” the sound of Fred’s voice echoed from across the field, “Are you out here? Mum’s gonna go spare if I don’t get you two back before they start the next round of toasts.”

Ron took Hermione’s hand and smiled a bit apologetically, but this time he had the confidence to lace their fingers himself. Someday… someday soon.

Sanvers in Defense Against the Dark Arts

Prompt from @dafaqisalesbian: “Maggie and Alex have their first class together and they have to sit next to each other and they are a “pretty good team”                       


The tables have all been swept against the wall, and the Slytherins gather on top of them eagerly, grinning as the Hufflepuffs file in and quickly discover that there’s nowhere to sit but the floor.

Alex, leaning atop a table like she owns it, lets her eyes sweep over her fellow fourth years from that other House, and she tries not to let her eyes land on her little sister’s best friend.

But inevitably – as always – they do.

And Maggie’s eyes meet her right back, soft pain masked with vague criticism.

“Really, Danvers?” is written all over her face, because Maggie knows things about Alex that her fellow Slytherins don’t.

That she sometimes snorts when she laughs; that she cries at sad books; that she hates Potions class because of all the dead bodies and body parts of various creatures that go in so many of the concoctions.

She knows because she’s Kara’s best friend, but she’ll never tell a soul.

Which is why she’s in the House she’s in, standing in the middle of the room somewhat awkwardly and waiting for Professor J’onzz to come in, and Alex is sitting on the table, surrounded by admirers in green.

Alex blanches, and Maggie offers a shadow of a wink. A shadow of a, “calm down, Danvers, your secrets are safe with me.”

And they are.

They are, that is, until Professor J’onzz enters. Until his eyes sweep the classroom, and he immediately pairs Alex and Maggie.

Against the entire rest of the class.

“To learn to fight those who would use magic to maim and wound, you need to learn to fight back-to-back with those you trust.”

“And why would Danvers trust Ponytail to have her back? Wouldn’t Sawyer be better off cowering in the back of the room with the rest of her House?”

“Well, Mr. Lord, perhaps you’d like to be the first to find out,” J’onn interjects before Maggie can rage, before her House can curse Maxwell hard enough to send him to the infirmary, before Alex can toss down her wand and pummel him with her fists, because she may pretend to be cool toward Maggie in public, but she’s her sister’s best friend, and anyway, god, what is wrong with that Lord jerk anyway?

“So what, you want me to hex a couple of girls?”

J’onn crosses his arms over his chest and smirks slightly. “I want you to try.”

Alex slips off the desk and strides over to Maggie in the center of the room.

“You alright?”

“Just don’t prove him right, Danvers.”

“About what?”

“About Slytherins being assholes.”

“We’re not. Just him.”

Maggie smirks and they raise their wands as one, bowing to Max with one body. A whisper rushes through the Hufflepuffs – Alex catches something about Kara, something about Danvers maybe having a heart after all, something about the way Maggie swoons and stammers whenever Danvers walks by. Something about how this could be the start of something good.

And it might well be, because together, Alex and Maggie have Maxwell halfway to the infirmary before he can even raise his wand.

Together, they raise shield spells that none of their classmates can penetrate, and when one of them gets the clever idea to send a boggart their way to see what they make of it, Alex gives the form of Maggie’s father an absurdly cartoonish French mustache and orange-dyed hair, and Maggie gives the form of Kara’s broken body new life as boggart-Kara rises from the dead to furiously adjust her glasses and crack an awkward and terrible joke, enough so that when they both shout riddikulus, their public nightmares are over, over, over.

They’re sweating and they’re trembling slightly, but J’onn is giving 50 points to both of their Houses and they’re the last two in the classroom after being cheered and clapped on the back by one after another after another classmate.

“You know I don’t usually do well with partners, but I think we made a really great team.”

Alex grins and almost reaches out to touch her.

Almost. Almost.

Maybe next time.

Because her dimples are gorgeous, and her eyes are perfect, and she is so quick on her feet and she is so damn brave and so damn smart and god, she hopes there will be a next time. A lot of next times.

“Yeah, I guess we did.”

Maggie quirks her head to the side and nods, a soft, almost secret smile on her face.

“See you around, Danvers.”

Alex just stares as she watches her leave, and only J’onn, rearranging the classroom for his next batch of students, hears her when she exhales softly, shakily, hopefully, “See you around, Sawyer.”

{ this time }

pairing: hamilsquad x reader (john-centric); little more of john x alex

t/w: angst bc john’s sad; mention of racism/prejudice (it’s one line)

a/n: i picture john’s mom as hispanic. i feel like that better explains why he can speak spanish so yeah

john’s in his headspace a little. also i broke up the scenes so it wouldn’t be too confusing. 

summary: our sunshine boy has daddy issues

inbox || masterlist


John shifted a little when he woke up. He stared at the ceiling, let his eyes follow the lines on the walls, thought about how three different lines still managed to meet at one point until he felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

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Moments Unforgettable

Pairing: Aaron Burr x Reader

Words: 1.2k+

Prompt: Burr is a lucky man and he’s reminded when he wakes up every morning to your face. 

A/N: Reverse POV day! Day 5! Here we go! This is my first (and probably only) time writing in a first person POV but I really did enjoy how this came out! I hope you guys enjoy! (Also as always, Taylor and Ale proofread this for me!)

Originally posted by amazingmsme


Aaron’s POV

I never understood how I got so lucky. My life had been one of misfortune and constant death but then it suddenly changed. In the blink of an eye, I had my first bright day since I first saw Theodosia. She came into my life like a saving grace that stopped my downward spiral. It was a chance encounter I would never forget.

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Bellamy ‘High and Mighty’ Blake

Originally posted by justjayl-a

Pairings: Bellamy/Reader

Warnings: Violence, Swearing, Romance (?) 

*****

You were so bored, being forced to stay laid in this bed all day for what you thought was no reason at all. Crossing your arms over your chest you blew out a sigh between your lips. The temptation to screw them all over and just leave the tent and camp was almost overwhelming. In fact you were fairly sure this was the longest you’d spent in the camp since the drop ship had landed 150 days ago. You weren’t exactly social the solitary skybox had seen to that. You preferred the woods and forests that surrounded the camp.

You’d finally decided enough was enough and that they couldn’t keep you here any longer. You were getting up. You’d swung your legs over the side of the bed and were about to test your weight on your still healing leg when Jasper’s seemingly floating head appeared between the tents canvas opening. Jasper had had his stupid derpy smile on his face but it faded quickly as soon as he saw you sat up about to try getting out of bed.

“Jasper” you warned as the rest of his body appeared in the tent “don’t say it”

He was fidgeting uncomfortably with the bottom of his shirt “Y/N you shouldn’t be… I mean Clarke said about your leg”

“Hah, the princess is wrong” you grabbed Jaspers wrist yanking him closer to mainly keep him still. “Help me up”

“Y/N. Bellamy will kill me if you’re not in bed when they get. They left very clear orders that you still need to rest”

“Meaning they’re not here now?” you asked, plan forming in your mind.

“Well no”

You finally smiled, fluttering your eyelashes prettily at Jasper. You weren’t exactly an experienced flirt but you’d been told before that you were passably pretty. “Well then, I promise I will be back in this bed before they get back but J if I don’t go outside soon I’m going to go insane. I need some freedom. I feel like I’m back in the skybox”

He was wavering you could see that. Looking unsure of what exactly he should do. “You’ll be back in the bed?”

“I swear on all that is holy” you promised clasping your hands together in the old fashioned way of praying.

“Slowly” Jasper warned “If it even slightly hurts you go straight back down”

“Of course”

Muttering to himself under his breath Jasper grasped your other hand and pulled. Between the two of you you finally were back on your feet. Jasper keeping hold of you, tense and waiting for you to show even the slightest hint of pain.

In truth your leg ached but the burning pain of a few days before was gone. Taking a slow step forward you smiled in relief when nothing gave way. Your muscles holding up, it was sore sure but nothing that wouldn’t return with movement and exercise.

“Help me out J”

Jasper put one gangly arm around your waist taking some of your weight as you both finally left the tent. You’d been stuck in there for more than 5 days and the bright light of the sun made you blink rapidly. It felt nice though the warmth on your skin, you’d quickly grown used to the sun and had missed its light.

“Should you be up?”

You smiled turning to look at Raven “It’ll piss of the princess if I am”

Raven answered your smile with her own “Well in that case. I got her from here Jasper”

“Wait, what… No” Jasper stuttered as you hopped a few steps to Raven. The mechanic had apparently been barred from visiting you, the two of you were deemed as a being a bad influence on each other and it was good to see her again.

“Y/N we had a deal. You promised”

You felt sorry for Jasper and the betrayed tone of his voice. “I know J. I’m sorry. Don’t worry no one will find out you helped, and I’m still planning on coming back. I promised after all”

Jasper just stood watching unable to do anything as with Raven’s help you made your way around the dropship to where she was working. “You really going back?”

“Fuck no” you snorted “I’m… proving a point”

“And what would that point be exactly?” Raven asked 1 eyebrow raised to join her question.

“The point my dear mechanic is that I’m neither an invalid nor a child. I’ve looked after myself for a long time and I don’t need either Bellamy ‘high and might’ Blake or Princess Griffin telling me what to do”

“Here sit” Raven turned over a crate for you to rest on. “Well as long as you plan on playing truant you can make yourself useful”

“It’s what I live to be”

Raven snorted at that as she threw you a box of bullets “Know how to check them?”

“I think I can manage” you and Raven worked in companionable silence for about 30 minutes before she had to open her mouth and ruin it.

“You ever going to tell me what actually happened?”

“I fell” you said nonchalantly continuing to check bullets and deliberately not looking at Raven. “That’s all there is to it”

“Please Y/N” Raven scoffed “I’ve seen you move around this forest, you’re like a bloody cat. You climb like a monkey and you always land on your feet. If you think I believe that you simply fell then you’re an idiot”

As if in recognition of being talked about your torn up leg started to protest. You absently rubbed the aching calf muscle. “I did fall Raven” you said cutting her off when she would have started to talk again in indignation. “You never asked me what I fell from”

“What?”

You bent pulling your trouser up to reveal the bruised ring around your ankle bellowing the dressings on your calf. Raven reached out gently touching the bruises “perfect circle” her eyes came back to yours “falling doesn’t leave a perfect uniform circle like that. Only… rope or bindings?”

“Snare” you filled in for her “1 minute the world was normal the next I was upside down. It was either fall to the ground or be found by whomever set that trap”

“Who would set up a snare? Grounders?”

You shrugged pushing your pant leg back into place “One of many questions I’d like answering”

“Y/N!!!!!”

You snorted at the male voice screaming your name “Seems like my welcoming committee have finally arrived”

Raven laughed at that taking the good bullets from your hand “You and I have radically different versions of welcoming”

“Y/N!?”

The shout was closer this time as Bellamy Blake came storming around the corner of the drop ship face like thunder, followed by Clarke who was almost running to keep up with Bellamy’s much longer strides and Finn who just looked vaguely worried.

“What the fuck Y/N you should be in bed, laying down, resting”

“Says who?” you demanded snatching your hand away from him where he’d grabbed you trying to pull you up “Clarke? Is she a doctor? I don’t think you are, are you princess?”

“You know she’s as close to one as we have” Bellamy snarled.

“Close but not quite close enough. Story of your life huh princess?”

“Y/N you should be resting” the pretty blonde girl said finally speaking up apparently raising above responding to your insults. “Your leg was torn up fairly badly. You could break up the stitches and cause my damage by being up”

“And I could get blood clots from laying down to much” you snapped, Clarke wasn’t the only one with medical knowledge. “I am not a child and I’m getting fed up of being treated like one”

“Then stop acting like one” Bellamy snapped.

Finn finally sprang into action at the dangerous look in your eyes. Everyone in camp had realised you had a dangerously fiery temper and right now it was about to erupt on Bellamy Blake.

“Hey why don’t we all just calm down” he appeased placing himself between you and Bellamy. “I’m sure Y/N is fine, after all she’s sat down, helping out”

“Ever the peace maker Finn” you reached out to take his offered hand allowing him instead of Bellamy to pull you back to your feet. You wouldn’t admit it but your leg was starting to hurt again and it had taken more effort than you would like to manage to balance on your feet. It had been badly torn up when you fell from that snare. It had been a miracle you hadn’t broken bones although as it was you’d landed on a branch puncturing your calf almost the whole way through and scraping up the rest of your skin pretty badly.

The flinch on your face as weight went back to your leg was instinctive but you regretted it as Bellamy’s eyes narrowed “Enough back to bed now”

His tone had gotten your back up though “Who gave you control over everyone’s life Blake?”

He stormed forward past Finn to put himself right up to your face, apparently you’d finally snapped his control of his own temper. Rage was dancing around his eyes “I won’t say it again”

Completely unintimidated by Bellamy you just narrowed your eyes at him “I am not your sister to be controlled or order around Blake”

“Are you going or not?”

“Make me” you sneered not expected at all what Bellamy did next.

He smirked at you, face still close to your own “With pleasure” before you could react he’d bent and thrown you over his shoulder. You screamed in outrage banging you closed fists against his back. The others were stood mouths open in shock watching the pair of you. Apart from Raven who was laughing manically. Why were you even friends with her in the first place? It wasn’t easy to remember why right at that moment.

“If you don’t put me down right now Blake I swear I’ll…”

“You’ll what Y/N?” he started walking back to your tent steadying your wriggling with a hand on your upper thigh. The absent thought flew through your brain that from this angle you had a really good view of his backside and damn was it a nice one.

“I don’t know, but trust me it won’t be pleasant”

Bellamy actually laughed at your words. That hand that had been resting on your thigh moved up to smack your ass. “If you’d behave I wouldn’t have to make you now would I?”

“Hey” you shouted, wriggling once more to try and shift the hand that had stayed on your ass after slapping it. You resorted once more to hitting his back. “Take your hands off me Blake” your blows were having about as much effect as it would if you were hitting a wall.

People around the camp were stopping their jobs to watch as Bellamy strode back to your tent with you over his shoulder like a piece of luggage.

“Blake” you hissed once more. “I swear to god”

His hand squeezed instead of moving and you actually heard him chuckle to himself as he entered your tent. “Home sweet home” he mocked finally swinging you down from his shoulder, he kept you in his arms though with your feet barely touching the floor so no weight went onto your leg.  

“How is it?”

“Fine” you snapped pushing at his broad chest trying to get away from his body. Being this close to Bellamy was disturbing your equilibrium. “You’ve crossed a line. I am not some piece of meat that you can drag around wherever you please. Neither am I your sister or any member of your family that you have the right to tell me what to do”

“Y/N” his hold on you slackened enough that you finally got free. Your leg was throbbing at this point, to much movement in one go.

“Fuck” you hissed wobbling and reaching out to grab the nearest thing to you. Bellamy. He steadied you instantly, looking worried but to his credit he didn’t try and touch you more than the arm holding your own or tell you that he told you so.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is intolerable. I’m not an invalid”

“No one thinks you are”

“Then why do you all treat me like one?”

Bellamy sighed slowing moving closer giving you chance to move him away. When you didn’t he wrapped an arm around your waist helping you over to the bed.

“Because we need you better and quickly” he admitted sitting down beside you. “The 100, how many out of them are fighters, hunters, trackers. How many are safe outside the walls? Or would have a chance if the grounders attacked? A handful at most, their just kids”

“I’m the same as them” you insisted making Bellamy laugh.

“You know I was a guard cadet on the ark. I saw your record Y/N. I know why you were thrown in the skybox”

You squirmed not liking where this conversation was going. Your past and the reason you were now down here on earth was not something you wanted to get into.

“You’re an asset” Bellamy grabbed your chin using large hands to frame your face “One I can’t… don’t want to lose”

He was so close that if you’d wanted to you could have counted the freckles dusting his nose and cheeks. Instead you placed your hands over his pulling them away from you face and lacing your fingers together. His hands dwarfed your own as you left them linked on your lap. “Bellamy I’m not a good investment of time” you warned, your voice was quiet as you stared at the two of yours hands. His skin looked a lot darker than usual when compared with your porcelain white. “Surely you’ve realised that by now? I’m not a good person”

“And you think I am?”

“I think you’ve done a lot, risked a lot to keep people alive. I on the other hand am only interested in my own survival”

“I don’t believe you Y/N” Bellamy lifted your hand kissing the skin on the inside of your wrist. The action made your heart thump uncomfortably, as confusion coloured your face.

“What are you doing Blake?”

He smiled evilly leaning forward ever so slowly giving you the chance to pull away again. “Giving you a more entertaining reason for staying in bed”

You laughed at that allowing him to push you back onto the bed using his larger body to pin yours down.

“Give it your best shot” you dared him making him smile as he pressed his lips roughly against your own.

What Might Have Been

[Prompt: This is for @meflashfanwork based on the theme ‘what might have been.’ What if Alec had survived and Wren Ryder wasn’t the Pathfinder, but just one of the companions? How would her relationship with Jaal changed? It’s a series of vignettes, essentially, because anything else would be ungodly long.

Jaal x Ryder]

Alec Ryder. Pathfinder, hope of the Initiative, pseudo-leader of the human ark. All titles he wore with ease, carrying hopes and dreams on his shoulders as if they weighed nothing at all. Things he could not include in his list of titles: diplomat, which made meeting the angara an interesting complication, a wrinkle in his plans that he clearly didn’t approve of.

Thus, the angara representative, Jaal, had ended up more or less dumped in the laps of Scott and Wren Ryder. “Babysit him. I don’t have time for this,” Alec said, already turning and stalking off. Wren and Scott exchanged a look and both shrugged simultaneously.

“You know I’m not much better than dad. I leave this in your capable hands.” Clapping his sister on the shoulder, Scott left her with Jaal.

“Your father- he is always like this?” It was the first thing Jaal said to her, and Ryder couldn’t determine if he was serious or not. A beat of tension, and then Jaal smiled at her, hesitantly, and Ryder let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding and smiled back.

Bashful in the face of having to confront Alec’s dubious charms, Ryder nodded reluctantly. “Pretty much. He takes getting used to.” It was unfortunate that this was Jaal’s first real taste of humanity, but it wasn’t as if there was much she could do about that. As usual, she could only pick up the pieces and try to smooth out Alec’s rough edges, making sure he didn’t offend too many people in his wake. It was, after all, the main reason she was even allowed on his precious Tempest in the first place. Everyone had to pull their own weight, and though it never went said out loud, it was understood that the Ryder twins were there to be the charm and charisma that the Pathfinder lacked.

***

From the start, Ryder had alternative reasons for playing nice with Jaal. She couldn’t help but notice he was good looking, even if he was alien. Maybe it was the fact that he was so incredibly alien that made him appealing; either way, six hundred years of no action could do things to a girl.

Jaal didn’t trust her. That much was clear. He trusted Alec even less, and while he seemed to get along with Scott, he also held himself aloof, refusing to answer certain questions about his family and about angaran culture until some mythical proof of trust could be earned.

“I’d like to get to know you better. Privately,” she stuttered out one afternoon, and to her surprise Jaal looked her up and down appraisingly and finally replied.

“I would like that,” he said, a smile touching the corners of his mouth. That’s where it all began.

***

It wasn’t until they rescued the Moshae that Jaal truly began to warm up to any of the crew, and Ryder hadn’t even been along for the ride. “It’s too dangerous,” Alec told her. “You and your brother are staying behind and staying put. No arguments.” All this before she could even open her mouth, stuck on the ship and fuming as her dad left with Jaal and Drack, leaving behind a restless ship that could only try and communicate with comms.

“I have utmost faith that your dad will pull this off,” Cora said, trying to sound reassuring and trying not to look annoyed that she hadn’t been brought along.

“Of course he will. Dad is perfect.” Rolling her eyes, Ryder stalked off to her bunk to flip through an old-fashioned, physical book, flipping the same two pages back and forth for an hour before giving up and trying to watch a vid instead. She should be there. What if Alec was hurt? What if Jaal was hurt? Was it wrong that the second thought made her more worried than the first? Damn it, she was going to fall into this too deeply if she wasn’t careful. It was time to distance herself, to not think about what the angara looked like as he smiled, how good of a shot he was, how he had helped her take apart her sniper rifle the other day, holding intricate pieces between two fingers with surprisingly delicacy. Definitely don’t think about his hands.

Damn it.

***

“We have to deal with this Aksuul figure before he causes any further trouble. Wren, you’re coming with us.” It was a tacit admittance that he was diplomatically challenged, the closest Alec would ever come to admitting weakness. It was also the only time he had been willing to drag out his daughter and Jaal on a mission at the same time, preferring to keep them separated.

“Remember not to fraternize with the angara, Wren. Keep your head.” That had been a few days ago, a frown etched onto his features, permanent lines creased downward. Wren could only blush and shrug, muttering polite deferrals that sounded half-hearted even to her own biased ears.

“Ryder, you must listen and trust me about Aksuul. I can’t trust that Alec would,” Jaal whispered to her as they finally left the Tempest, ready to face whatever the steaming jungles held.

She nodded but bit a corner of her lip, doubtful. “I’ll do my best. You know what dad’s like.”

“And that is what I’m afraid of.” There wasn’t time for them to say more; already Alec was moving forward, SAM propelling him into feats of athleticism that Wren couldn’t possibly even contemplate.

With Alec leading the way, there was no time for quiet contemplation or examining their surroundings. A cursory look, enough to establish that Jaal’s family wasn’t there, and they moved on, Aksuul’s voice a distant, booming background whenever they entered a building. Every time she wanted to stop to look more closely at something, Alec pushed her onward, and though Jaal shook his head, there was nothing either could do to stop the Pathfinder once he had a mission firmly in mind. This was what he had trained for and he was a man of action, not of contemplation. Putting the picture together didn’t matter as much as getting results, and he was determined to do that much. Ryder strongly suspected that Alec didn’t even care about rescuing Jaal’s family so much as he did getting on the angara’s good side; his attempts at placate them still weren’t going well, and few of them trusted him.

Every angara killed felt like a blow to Ryder. How did Jaal feel, killing his own people? He and Alec had identical facial expressions; calm, determined, though Jaal’s was underwritten with a current of worry. Bullets flew as all three sought cover behind some crates, pushing ever closer to their goal. “Wait! I know those voices.” Jaal held a fist up to halt their fire.

Alec kept firing in steady pulses, either having not heard or ignoring it entirely. “Dad, stop!” Once again, there was no response until Ryder physically shouldered him, causing a shot to veer off wildly. Alec turned to look at her angrily, scowl only deepening.

“Dad. Jaal knows them.”

“Lathoul! Wait! Stop!” What followed was a terse exchange of words, a stray shot that rang out… and then hugging. A great deal of hugging, none of which involved Alec and all of which left Ryder faintly bemused. Yet when Jaal sought out a human to show his family that humans weren’t all bad, he didn’t reach for Alec, instead grabbing Ryder by the arm and dragging her into the spotlight, showing her off with an air of faint pride, making her feel Alec’s glare radiating heat through the back of her skull.

Another flash of action- shooting, defusing bombs while Alec watched over her shoulder, shouting out terse commands. A bullet slammed into her shields, sending Ryder back, but she shook it off, fingers shaking as she pressed levers and flicked switches, trying to save this piece of angaran history, knowing that if she didn’t, the failure would rest squarely on her shoulders. They would never blame their Pathfinder, but it was too easy to blame his daughter.

And then Askuul, pointing a gun at Jaal, and Alec pointing a gun at Aksuul. Jaal’s earlier words, his emphasis on trusting him, came back to mind, but Alec’s finger was already hovering near the trigger, and he rarely missed. Ryder could only do something incredibly stupid, something Alec would yell at her about back in the Tempest- she stepped in front of his gun, preventing him from taking the shot, and in doing so, she had to watch Aksuul shoot a single bullet at Jaal, skimming the surface of his flesh and passing on.

A tense moment, and then diffusion. How could everything have possibly turned out okay?

****

Later, she and Jaal leaned against each other, her hand reaching up to touch where he had shot.

“You stopped your father,” Jaal finally said to her.

“I was so worried.” Even now, she could feel Alec staring. Screw Alec. Right now, her dad was the least of her concerns.

“All wounds heal.” They leaned forward, and then Jaal broke away, arching the approximate region where brows would be to gesture at Alec. “I should let you two speak.”

Maybe it was then she realized she would weather any storm for him- even a storm of angry fathers.

anonymous asked:

What if MC had a younger, maybe hotter, sister that tried to flirt and seduce everyone in RFA + V and Saeran?

Jesus Christ DO I HAVE EXPERIENCE WITH THIS *well she was like one of my best friends and jesus pent up aggression gonna be on this post LOL 

MOD Saeran happily serving you :) 

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anonymous asked:

Hey Mum :) might you at some point be able to fic college Alex pulling an all nighter and Maggie looking after them/putting them to bed/checking on them afterwards, please? It's been a rough term.

If they were anyone else, they wouldn’t feel the need to pull an all-nighter.

If they were anyone else, they would have deemed that they’d studied enough, that they deserve a break, that they’d reached their limit and that they needed sleep, or at least time with friends or Netflix.

But Alex Danvers is not anyone else.

So they settle into the dorm’s study room so they don’t keep Lucy up in their own room, and they completely take over the long table with notes, with textbooks, with scrambled calculations and their glasses case and their granola bar wrappers.

They don’t notice when the door opens behind them because they’re muttering about exothermic reactions and the possibility of harnessing the energy created to –

“Delivery for Dr. Danvers,” a soft voice behind them makes them jump before smiling tiredly.

They turn and their girlfriend is behind them, decked out in reindeer pajama pants and a tank top that perfectly highlights her arm muscles, holding out a bag with a couple slices of pizza and a latte.

“Pfft, I’m not a doctor yet,” Alex splutters, and Maggie sets the pizza down on one of the only clear spaces on the table and presses the latte into Alex’s hands along with a kiss to their lips.

“Might as well be, Danvers, the amount of shit you know that even our professors can’t keep up with. What’s the game tonight?” she asks, her hand lingering on Alex’s waist as she turns to rifle through some of their papers, making sure to keep them all in the order Alex has them in.

“I can’t crack the formula I need, and I wanted to have it all squared away before the presentations tomorrow.”

They run their hand through their hair and moan with relief as they sip at the latte, and Maggie has to forcibly restrain herself from not lunging at Alex and taking them then and there.

She knows there’s no point in reminding Alex that the presentations are meant as progress updates, not finished products, because she knows that the call Alex will inevitably get tomorrow afternoon from Eliza asking how it went will send them into a spiral if they can’t report at least somewhat adequate progress by her standards.

Hell, the call will probably send them into a spiral anyway, but Maggie’s just grateful she doesn’t have classes tomorrow afternoon, so she’ll be able to be there.

“Eat, Alex. You can’t live on granola bars, okay? Eat. And here.”

She tugs a water bottle out of her pajama pants pocket.

“Drink all of it. The pizza’s salty and the caffeine’s not gonna help.”

The chaotic, stressed look in Alex’s eyes fades for a moment as they look down at Maggie.

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

Maggie grins and reaches up to adjust Alex’s glasses and kiss their nose.

“I have my laundry in the wash, gotta go switch it out. While I do that, can you do me a big favor please? Go take your binder off? You’ve been wearing it a long time today, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Why are you this perfect, huh?”

Maggie beams and licks her lips. “Takes one to know one, Danvers. Go. I’ll be right back.”

And she is, and Alex smiles as she curls up in the armchair in the corner of the study room and falls asleep. Alex strips their sweatshirt off and wraps Maggie in it, complete with a gentle kiss to her temple.

It’s nearly sunrise by the time Alex falls asleep, and Maggie stirs in the chair.

“Oh, Al,” she sighs as she takes in the sight of Alex face-planted in their papers, leaning forward on what has to be the most uncomfortable chair in the entire dorm.

“Baby,” she whispers, padding over to Alex and kissing their hair.

“Babe, come to bed, come get some sleep. Your presentation isn’t until nine. I’ll wake you, I promise.”

“All my stuff – “ Alex mutters, more asleep than not but leaning compliantly into Maggie’s arms.

“I’ll come back and clean it up. Come on, handsome, let’s get you to bed.”

Even half asleep, Alex smiles broadly at the term of endearment Maggie knows they’ve come to love, and they let Maggie guide them to their room, all the while muttering about the breakthrough they made around three a.m.

“You’re so brilliant, Alex,” Maggie assures them as she tucks them in, nodding good morning at a bleary-eyed Lucy, shuffling through their shared space in a long ROTC t-shirt and slipper socks.

“They pull another all-nighter?” Lucy asks quietly as Maggie kisses Alex again and tip-toes out of their room.

“Mmhmm. Got coffee?”

Lucy pffts. “Got coffee? Whose room do you think you’re in, Sawyer? It’s coffee paradise in here.”

Maggie laughs and rubs sleep out of her eyes.

“Perfect. Just black please?”

“Das gross, Mags!” a very groggy voice calls from Alex’s room, and Maggie and Lucy collapse in silent, loving giggles.

in the two minutes you legally died

When Gina Linetti gets run over by a New York City bus, news of her accident travels far and fast- thanks to Charles’s efficient mass texting, of which its irony was noted solemnly.

Not fast enough for Rosa, however. Upon hearing the news, she wants to run straight to where Gina is to make sure she’s okay.

Except she knows that Gina is most definitely not okay- most people that get run over by buses tend not to be.

This very knowledge keeps her rooted on the spot for a second as she freaks out- tears come to her eyes and compromise her vision, her knees feel shaky and she has to grab on to the corner of her desk.

Seeing Gina’s unoccupied one across from her isn’t helping matters.

Thinking about how Gina may never fill that desk again really isn’t helping matters.

But Rosa pushes all her fears and worries deep down together with where she keeps all her other secret feelings that she refuses to let see the light of day- and she forces herself to move, to get to Gina.

Once she starts walking her momentum pushes Rosa into a sprint and soon she’s out of the precinct, darting through the streets straight to where Charles said Gina was hurt.

Rosa finds Gina all right- because the site of the accident isn’t far away from the precinct- in fact it’s much too close and Rosa didn’t have enough time to prepare herself for this.

(Although, if she were being honest not even a lifetime could prepare Rosa for this.)

“Gina?!” Rosa calls out desperately, because she is indeed desperate, and nearly lunges forth to examine Gina’s broken state only to get held back by the likes of Charles and Amy.

“Rosa, you need to stay back!” One of them tells her, but she can’t tell which because she can barely feel anything at the moment, let alone distinguish between voices.

She wants to ignore them and go to Gina anyway, but then a “you’ll make her worse if you don’t stay still!” keeps her rooted to the ground.

The paramedics arrive and Rosa’s committed to standing back and letting them help Gina; even in her frankly deranged state Rosa knows that the paramedics are of more use to Gina than she is now.

Rosa tries to compose herself and stares blankly at Amy who’s apparently noticed her on the verge of a panic attack and is trying to ease her into a regular breathing pace by leading her in some breathing exercises.

It works, until Rosa hears someone say “I can’t get a pulse” and then Amy’s efforts go to waste as Rosa feels a hoarse cry tear through the base of her throat.

“Gina!”

Rosa’s vision is once again compromised, but more so this time as she falls to her knees and buries her head into her hands. She knows she looks very pathetic right now, crying helplessly in the street as Gina’s life hangs in the balance and- there’s nothing she can do. Rosa cries and cries, although to her credit she tries to muffle her sobs but it’s still clear as day that she’s breaking down, piece by piece.

Rosa hears Amy and Charles try to console her, offering awkward pats on the shoulder and comforting half hugs but- it’s all so very muted because Rosa can’t hear anything, can’t feel anything other than her pure, unadulterated agony.

They say that when you die, your life flashes past before your eyes. Sure, Rosa isn’t lying bruised and broken in the streets of Brooklyn, but watching Gina completely motionless on the ground as Amy and Charles restrain her, Rosa sees her life- or more accurately her life with Gina; what was, what is, and what they could be.

Rosa sees countless laughs and jokes and smiles exchanged between herself and Gina, and as she stares at Gina’s still unmoving body she feels a jolt of intense pain run straight through her heart because already, she misses Gina’s smile.

She feels the warm caress of Gina’s soft hands on the sides of her face as they had slid down to her cheeks- the heat she remembers rising up to her cheeks and staying there for an uncomfortably long time. Rosa had felt so uptight the whole day but now she’s just a broken shell of a woman.

Worst of all, Rosa’s mind conjures an image of Gina and Rosa under the covers, her hands running through Gina’s soft and perfect hair, her eyes bright and beautiful, reflecting the love Rosa has for her. Meanwhile Gina’s eyes stare into the sky and are completely still.

Rosa can’t feel herself breathe, in fact she’s downright hyperventilating at the moment, but she’s pretty sure that when that speeding bus came crashing into Gina it took a piece of Rosa with it, too.

Until Rosa hears something one of the EMTs declare that sends a rush of relief through her, makes her ears perk up and her eyes go dry with clarity.

“She’s alive.”

The EMTs begin to load Gina onto the gurney and into the back of the ambulance, sending her to the hospital for further treatment. Suddenly hope seems to fill the air and Rosa can feel the tension slowly leave all of their bodies- especially in Charles and Amy. They had been worried too, and that thought calms Rosa- she is not alone in her love for Gina, although she is alone in the very intense love she’s feeling for Gina.

The ambulance drives away and Rosa mumbles something about getting to the hospital quickly before she mounts her conveniently nearby motorbike and speeds down the streets of Brooklyn after the ambulance carrying her beloved Gina.

Somehow, as she determinedly follows the sirens all the way to Brooklyn Methodist Hospital, Rosa feels like she’s getting a second chance.

And this time, she’s definitely taking it.

Obvious: A Stiles Stilinski Imagine

Request from Anon: Stiles being jealous because you spend a lot of time with Theo and then admitting his love for you when you two get in an argument and you just kissing him because you actually love him as well

First things first…STYDIA IS REAL CAN I CRY NOW PLEASE THANK YOU I’M SO HAPPY AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH (So naturally the gif below used and it’s appropriate).

Secondly, whoever requested this, I’m sorry it’s taken a while, I’ve been bogged down with so much coursework, but I hope you and whoever else reads it likes it! Enjoy x 

It was obvious. 

Stiles was jealous. 

He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help the way he felt. Especially when it was Theo the girl he loved was hanging around with. 

Especially when the girl he loved was Y/N. 

He couldn’t help the way his heart beat sped up every time he saw her. He couldn’t help the way the anger flowed through him every time he saw her with Theo. 

He’d already wanted to punch the guy in the face. Now that desire was just so much worse. 

He was watching them now. Y/N and Theo. They were standing against the lockers, him being his smug, stupid self, and her being the perfect human being he knew her to be. 

The small things that nobody noticed about Y/N were the things that Stiles deemed to be obvious. The way her mouth would quirk up at the corner when she smiled, the way she’d tuck her hair behind her ear when she was nervous, the way her eyes would gleam when she was talking about something she was passionate about.

These were the things Stiles noticed. The obvious things. 

It was what also led him to notice that she didn’t tuck that lock of hair behind her ear this time. It was Theo who did that. 

And that was what led Stiles to lose it. 

He marched over, grabbing the front of Theo’s shirt and pushing him against the lockers, the noise reverberating through the corridors of Beacon Hills High School. 

“What’s the matter, Stilinski? Jealous?”

Yes. Oh my god, yes. 

Stiles was about to respond with a simple fist to that smarmy bastard’s face, but was pulled away by a fuming Y/N. 

Her nostrils flared, and her eyes were full of fire. Any normal person would have been scared, but Stiles was far from normal. All it did was make him love her more. 

She pulled him into the nearest classroom before she spoke.

“What the hell was that, Stiles?”

Stiles didn’t answer.

“He’s my friend! I know you don’t like him, but God, that was just petty! What the hell is your problem?”

Stiles thought for a moment before answering. He was going to come up with some lame excuse and let her be angry at him for all the wrong reasons. But instead, he figured that now was a better time than any to tell her.

To tell her the truth. 

“I love you,” he mumbled, meeting her eyes. Her perfect, oval shaped eyes with their angel-like glint that made his heart flutter. 

“What?”

He shrugged. 

“That’s it. That’s my problem. I love you. I’ve always-”

He didn’t have time to finish his declaration of love as he found Y/N’s hands on his cheeks and her lips on his own. 

She was kissing him.

Y/N was kissing Stiles. 

Y/N’s heart had done somersaults when Stiles had told him he loved her. She just couldn’t help but kiss him. 

Because the truth was that she loved him too. More than anything.

Kissing him was more than she could have imagined. The way his lips melded perfectly with hers, the way his hands rested against the small of her back, the way their foreheads rested together when they’d both pulled apart for air. 

It was like a dream. Except it was reality. 

“What was that for?” Stiles whispered, his eyes closing as Y/N’s breath fanned over his face. 

“Because I love you too,” she whispered back. 

Stiles pecked her on the nose, fully savoring her words. She loved him. She actually loved him. 

He laughed.

“Why are you laughing?” she inquired, her thumb stroking his cheek as she worshiped the moment, never wanting it to end. 

“You love me. You actually love me.”

“Yeah. I know Stiles.”

“I just can’t believe it, that’s all.”

“Why not? I thought it was obvious.”

Escape from Fairy Land

Written for @seastarved’s Fantasy Pretzel Week Day 7, Feb 26: Any Modern Trope in a Elves/Fae/Nymph AU
Again, thanks to @mahstatins and @ofshipsandswans for flailing at me about this one :)

“Killian, what the actual fuck?” Emma’s panting, her eyes wide in distress, her hair tangled and her clothes torn. “What - what happened tonight?”

Killian studies the floor, he knows she’s had a hell of a night already and maybe if he just doesn’t answer her he can avoid making it a little bit worse.

“Killian. Killian!” She grabs his lapels and shakes him a little. He should’ve known that wouldn’t work: she’s as stubborn as they come. Nothing can deter her when she wants something - it’s what makes her such an excellent bailbonds person -

“Jesus fucking Christ! Talk to me now if you ever want to see me again.”

Keep reading

wild

Originally posted by intokai

Title: wild
Pairing: Oh Sehun/Reader
Genre: Bad boy!AU
Summary: “‘Cause when you look like that, I’ve never ever wanted to be so bad.
Inspired by the Blue Neighborhood album. BLUE NEIGHBORHOOD MINI SCENARIOS

Just like cherry blossoms, that’s the best way to describe his presence.

His lips were painted of the most beautiful cherry color as he brings the cigarette down from his lips, throwing it on the floor and stomping over it with his thick, stylish boots. His black hair was sleeked back and his eyebrows were drawn in the most attractive of frowns. His eyes spoke about million of stories that will be written in books as the epitome of youth, as wildness, but he likes to keep them all a secret. The neighborhood is coated with the deep blue of the sky and turns it into a passionate atmosphere as she gets out of her house, her backpack long left in her house as she went out to meet her boyfriend, instantly stopping once she sees his lips curving into one of those beautiful smiles. The flowers seem to blossom in his cheeks as they turn of a pink shade and his lips look delicious, calling her over as she wraps her arms around his waist as his hand stops over her cheek, rubbing over the flesh lightly.

Keep reading

zeldawrecks  asked:

Love your writing!! Can you do one where jughead doesn't want betty to know that he likes her, so he's kinda mean to her but he doesn't know that she likes him back? Thank you!!

I can do that! I feel bad making Jughead mean lol but I can see him definitely being defensive over his feelings! Here we go ~


Two Broken People


Betty Cooper couldn’t help herself - she just kept staring at him. 

She slowly brought her soda to her lips, sucking it through the straw. She didn’t break her stare. That damn piece of hair sticking out of his hat was driving her crazy.

It reminded her so much of Elvis’ curl, always in his face.

He was writing furiously in his notebook, his earbuds blaring music loudly.

Betty was sitting out on the quad by herself at a picnic table, staring at Jughead and eating her lunch. She pulled a carrot out of the bag in front and started chewing.

Jughead was sitting at the table across from hers, writing and listening to music, but not eating. Very uncharacteristic for him.

The wind picked up, blowing Jughead’s curl out in front of him. 

His eyes locked with hers, catching her staring. 

“What?” He said suddenly, glaring at her.

Shit, Betty thought, looking down.

She brought another carrot to her mouth, looking up. Jughead was gathering his things to leave.


Jughead rushed into the science classroom late. There was only one seat left - next to Betty Cooper.

He shook his head and walked over to the seat.

“Thanks for making time for us, Mr. Jones.” The teacher called.

Jughead didn’t say anything.

“As I was saying,” The teacher continued. “You’re going to be partnering up with the person sitting next to you for this lab. You may get started.”

Jughead groaned and looked at Betty. Why her?

He looked into her eyes - the perfect color of blue, he thought - then looked quickly to the beakers set in front of them.

“Maybe we could just work amongst ourselves for this one?” Jughead murmured.

Betty looked hurt. “She told us we’re in partners, Jughead, so I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but it’s what we have to do.”

Jughead sighed, then did as Betty instructed him. How was he supposed to concentrate when she smelled so damn good?

She brushed a stray hair out of her face, then added two beakers contents together.

Jughead wrote something down quickly. When he looked up, Betty was staring into his eyes.

God, she was perfect. 

“What?” He snapped.

“It’s your turn,” She snapped back. Jesus, what was up with him?


The bell rang and Jughead gathered his things quickly, his head down as he walked out of the room.

Betty rushed to gather her books and went out the door after him.

Science was their last class of the day, but Jughead didn’t stop at his locker. Betty followed him out the door.

“Wait up, Jughead!” Betty called after him.

She dodged students walking the other way, needing to catch up with him. “Hey!” She called again.

Jughead turned once he was out the doors. “What do you want?!” He demanded.

Betty’s eyebrows furrowed and she took a deep breath. “Why are you being so rude?”

“What?” 

Most of the students were on the other side of campus. The wind picked up, blowing Jughead’s stray curl again.

“Why do you keep looking at me like I’m the most annoying person on earth? Today at lunch, yesterday morning, last week. You keep giving me death stares and I want to know why, Jug. We used to be friends.” 

“Yeah, I used to be friends with lots of people, Betty. Look around - everyone’s gone.” Jughead mumbled. “I didn’t mean to be rude, but it’s better if you just leave me alone.” He said.

“You don’t have to be alone, Jughead. We didn’t abandon you.” Betty took a step closer to him.

“I’m used to it, Bets. It’s fine. I gotta go,” Jughead sighed.

“Wait.”  Betty took a step closer to him, her hand out. She brushed Jughead’s pieces of hair back off his face. 

Jughead’s eyes were closed.

“Jughead I’m sorry that you feel like you’re alone.” Betty murmured. “You’re not alone, I promise you.”

Jughead shook his head, not wanting to look into Betty’s eyes. “I can’t do this, Bets, I can’t… I can’t -”

“What, Jughead?” Betty said, taking another step closer. “Talk to me, please.”

Jughead opened his eyes and looked at Betty. God, that smell. It was flooding his nose, intoxicating him. 

He took a step forward and before he could overthink it, enveloped her lips with his.

Betty sighed and sank into the kiss, her hand playing with his hair underneath his beanie.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long” Betty murmured as they broke apart.

“Really?” Jughead said in surprise.

Betty nodded. “Stop pushing people away, Jugs. Amazing things happen when you let people in.”

“Sometimes people break you if you let them in.”

“Sometimes two broken people can make each other whole.” Betty shrugged.