i actually think my dad took this oh well

hello, society (isaac x woc!reader)

A/N: hi guys!!!! i’m so so so so happy to post this first part of the series where Isaac is dating an ethnic person (so not white lmaooooo) this is so special to me so I hope you like.

y/e/n: your ethnicity

prompt: y/n talks about her fears of dating a white guy.

Liking boys like Isaac Lahey never seemed to end well for me. He was charming and attractive and knew all the right things to say and just when to say them. He had a jaw that looked like it was cut straight  from the gods themselves and cheekbones that sat perfectly where they needed to be on his face. His bright blue eyes and dirty blonde hair created a youthful effect on his face and since both were always shifting colors it seemed like he was a new person each time I saw him. He knew the words that would make me melt and the words that would make me hate him. But most of all he knew how to make me happy. It was safe to say that Isaac Lahey was perfect.

But he wasn’t. Throughout the entirety of my life every time I would so much as to think a white guy was attractive, I’d be told “Oh you’re like one of those y/e/n girls that only like white guys.” Hearing that statement the first time shocked me, but by the fiftieth time I was pretty much numb to being the “y/e/n girl that only likes white guys”. It was so far from the truth but every time I would try and explain myself I would get immediately shut down. Eventually, I stopped sharing my feelings about certain boys and girls to my friends and family, even though every time I saw an attractive white person I wanted to scream about how hot they were from the top of my lungs.

So Isaac being white was a flaw for me, not that him being white changes how I felt about him and how he made me feel. There was just this feeling inside me that hasn’t gone away since I first started liking a white guy in middle school and felt insecure since there were no interracial couples at my school. As much as I hated to admit it, I never thought I could date a white guy publicly with out feeling paranoid and scared that people were talking about us, saying things like “he only likes y/e/n girls.” and vice versa. So, I promised myself I wouldn’t, and that’s just what I did.

Thats what I did, in fact, until Isaac’s hands found my waist at Lydia’s birthday party and he started leaving sloppy kisses on my neck and bare chest in Lydia’s pantry. If you were to ask me I probably wouldn’t remember how we got to that place, I would just remember how much I was enjoying it and how much I wish I didn’t.

“Isaac!” I called for help reaching on the tips of my toes, trying to reach the top shelf where the chips were.

“Yeah, what’s up?” He answered opening the pantry door and closing it as he wandered in.

I let out a loud sigh turning around to face him, not realizing how close he already was to me.

Looking up at him I sighed again and smiled sweetly, “Would you mind grabbing the chips for me?”

He chuckled a bit and lightly took my chin in his hand and said “Anything for you, Princess”

I actually got goosebumps when he said that.

I let my eyes flicker down to his lips which was a huge mistake on my part, but I wasn’t in control of my own body now. That became obvious to me after what happened next.

I’m guessing he took my innocent glance at his lips as a cue to press them to mine in which I immediately responded by deepening the kiss.

I brought my hands to his neck pulling him down closer to me while he pulled my bottom lip in between his teeth. He started leaving small and sweet kisses on my jaw, bringing his large hands down to my waist.

He then started to suck on my neck in which I responded with a breathy moan that snapped me back to my reality. I was making out with Isaac Lahey in an oversized food pantry.

“Stop.” I gently placed my hands on his chest.

Isaac retreated from my neck smirking and licking his bottom lip. I felt frozen, I just wanted some pita chips. His close proximity and hot breath left me flustered and my chest was rising so rapidly I don’t think he needed to be a werewolf to hear how my heart was beating.

“Shit. Sorry”

I laughed nervously as if everything was okay, as if I wasn’t soaking.

“It’s okay.”

I looked down at my shoes and bit my lip to avoid eye contact with him.

“You sure? You don’t wanna ta-”

“No. I just want the pita chips.” I said looking to the side, still avoiding eye contact with him.

“Y/N-” He sighed.

“It’s okay, I’ll just ask Stiles or eat the dip by itself, I gotta go.”

I pushed past him and quickly grabbed my jacket off of the table while saying quick goodbyes to everyone and heading out.

I planned on avoiding Isaac forever.

He wouldn’t let that happen.

He even showed up to family dinner after talking to my dad at his job.

So now here I sat, eating my dinner across from Isaac Lahey, the one guy I was avoiding because my dad invited him over because he thought he was a “nice friend of mine.”

My dad would have never let Isaac walk through the doors if he knew what he had done to me in that pantry.

“The food is amazing Mrs.Y/L/N. It has so much flavor.”

I nearly gagged when he said that. This was amazing.

“Thank you, Isaac. I actually think this is kind of bland, but I knew you were coming so I toned it down for you.”

This time I actually gagged, bringing everyones attention to me.

“What’s funny, Y/N?” Isaac asked with a fake sincerity.

I took a sip of water. “Nothing.” I smiled.

“Dad, can I leave the table? I have an Economics test to study for.”

“Oh yeah, you’re in my class, we could study together. Can I be excused as well?”

This motherfu- “No, that’s fi-”

“Sure, both of you can go, studying is better when it’s done with someone.”

I rolled my eyes and went up to my room, as Isaac followed behind me.

As soon as we got in my room Isaac stood oddly in the middle of the room.

“Close the door, Isaac.”

“Are they okay with that?”

“Does it matter? Close the door.”

He looked taken aback but shut the door slowly as I threw myself on my bed.

“Do you have a problem with me or something? Because I am so sorry about what I did at the party, I just thought you were okay with it since you were kissing me back an-”

“No, I don’t have a problem with you at all, thats the problem.”

Isaac looked confused so I motioned over to him to sit on my bed.

“Look, I like you a lot. I think it’s obvious how much I do.”

“Actually, it’s no-”

“Be quiet and listen.” I took a deep breath. “I’m scared of what people with think about me and you. I mean, are you really okay with dating a y/e/n girl?”

“Of course I am. Your race is a huge part of who you are, I mean it is who you are, but it doesn’t make up what makes you you, and what makes you important. I don’t like people just because of their culture or what they look like. I mean, you aren’t bad to look at, like at all, but you are an amazing person who makes me very happy and I can see myself with you. You shouldn’t be scared to date me because of what other people think, you should only care about what you think. You like me, I like you and I want to make you happy.”

I had sat up at this point and was nearly crying.

I pressed my lips to his.

“You do make me happy, let’s make this work.”

“Is there something I can do to make it up to you?” - Ladrien

“Is there something I can do to make it up to you?” Ladybug asked Adrien. She had snuck into his room at eleven o’clock at night to apologize for standing him up on their first date.

Adrien crossed his arms, trying not to give in. He didn’t want to lose his anger just because he was in love with her. “I don’t know, Ladybug. You stood me up.”

“I know we had plans to meet up tonight, but I had an emergency in my civilian life,” she explained.

“What happened?” he asked, raising his eyebrow. He had waited for her on top of the Grand Paris hotel for over two hours on a chilly night. His heart had felt broken, and he had started to wonder if he had been part of some cruel joke. Whatever her excuse was, it had better be good.

“My father fell and broke his wrist. My mom and I had to take him to the hospital,” she replied, trying not to give too much information away. “I wanted to tell you about it, but I didn’t know how to without giving away my identity. I’m sorry.”

He sighed, releasing his anger. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Is your father okay?”

She smiled, relieved that he seemed to have forgiven her. “Yeah, he is.”

“You know, you could make it up to me right now, if you wanted,” he told her hesitantly. “I have a TV in here, and I could make us popcorn and rent a movie. It could be like a real date, only we wouldn’t have to hide.” He blushed, feeling embarrassed. “I know it sounds lame, but I would really like it.”

“No, it doesn’t sound lame! Actually, it sounds kind of perfect.” She sighed, looking sadly at the clock. “Unfortunately, I have something I have to do in the morning. My dad needs help running the um… well, he needs my help, since his wrist is broken.” Sometimes it was hard trying to keep her identity a secret.

“Oh,” Adrien said, feeling rejected for the second time that night.

Ladybug took his hand in hers, trying to soothe him. “I really, really wish I could stay,” she assured him. “I can’t stop thinking about you most of the time. It’s just… today was an awful lot of bad timing.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll come over tomorrow night, I promise. We can do whatever you want.”

“Okay,” he replied, squeezing her hand. “I’ll see you then.”

She ducked out his window, and he watched her go.

“See? I told you she didn’t forget about you,” Plagg told him triumphantly.

“You said she probably didn’t even remember my name.”

Before Plagg could respond, Adrien’s phone went off. Alya was calling him.

“Hey, Alya,” Adrien answered. “What’s up?”

“Hi, Adrien,” she replied. “Are you free tomorrow morning? Say around five?”

“Five? Isn’t that a little early?”

“I know, but Marinette really needs some help tomorrow with the bakery,” she explained. “Nino and I are going over to help her, but we were hoping you would come, too.”

“Why does Marinette need help with the bakery?” he asked. “Don’t her parents run it?”

“Normally, yes, but her dad broke his wrist today, and Marinette and her mom can’t run it without the extra help.”

Adrien was quiet for a moment. “Her dad broke his wrist?”

“Yeah, the hospital was so busy they had to wait like three hours, so they’re really behind. Can we count on you for help?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he said in a daze. “See you tomorrow.”

Adrien collapsed into his desk chair as soon as they hung up. “I can’t believe Marinette is Ladybug.”
**************
Here’s the other half of my anon’s request, plus a little bit of reveal. I love accidental reveals, lol. I hope you loved both of these, anon!

First Christmas (1995):

a/n: this was first posted for the Undercover challenge about a month back but since it’s the start of a new set of stories for me, I’m re-posting  :)

________________________________

Her father loved Christmas. When he was home, he woke them up with Christmas music played at full volume, singing booming carols as he cooked breakfast, decorated the house, put up lights outside. He may have been stern the rest of the year but throw a little holiday cheer his way and he was yours for the duration.

Every year, he bought each of his children an ornament for Christmas. He would have them on the tree, there name painstakingly written on the bottom and the year, for them to find Christmas morning. Once they’d moved out and taken their collections with them, he continued his practice, either mailing the decorations or, in Scully’s case, he’d slip it on her small, artificial tree wherever he visited wherever she was living at the time, be it a dorm, with a roommate or on her own.

Sitting on her couch, lights dim, television off, radio silent, she debated with herself whether to put up a tree at all this year. She’d managed to wrestle the tree box from the hall closet and now it sat mocking her in the middle of the living room, ornament container beside it, filled with memories she wasn’t sure she could deal with this year.

After 20 minutes of painful debate, her depression won out and standing to shove the boxes back in the closet, she stopped when she heard a rapping on her door, two knocks then one.

Only Mulder would have a special knock, like she was the clubhouse and he was the newest member.

“Hey.”

As he pushed past her, she followed him with her eyes as she shut the door, confusion pushing one eyebrow skyward, “What’s up?”

“I am locked out of my apartment. I thought I grabbed my house key when I left for my run but I didn’t.”

Thinking about the whistling winds blowing past her window, she looked at him, studying him unconsciously for signs of frost-bite, “did you run over here? In this cold?”

Pulling his stocking cap off and stuffing it into his pocket, “Naw. Used my Hide-a-Key to get my car key and drove over here to get my house key.”

Now she smiled, “why don’t you have a Hide-a-Housekey thing, too.”

“I have you instead.” Giving her his best, tooth-glinting grin, “so, what are you up to this fine, frigid evening?” She was going to claim laundry but his sharp eyes caught the tree box, “oooh, Christmas decorating. Need any help?” Shifting from one foot to the other, she hesitated a moment too long with her answer and Mulder’s face fell, “or not. I don’t mean to intrude.” Pulling his hat back out, he gave her a smile that told her he wasn’t annoyed, “my mother never let us help with the tree. She always said it was her thing to do alone.”

He looked so genuinely pitiful that she heard herself telling him, “no, it’s okay. I just …well, actually, I was debating putting it up at all. With dad gone …”

Mulder cut her off, hand going automatically to her arm, lightly gripping her elbow, “oh, crap. I’m sorry. I totally forgot.”

Reaching, she took his hat and stuffed it back in his pocket, “but I changed my mind. Stay and help me figure out where to put it. What do you think, by the window there or over by the fireplace, closer to the door?”

They had only been together for a little over a year but he knew her well enough to know she was full of crap, however, given he wasn’t a soulless bastard, he let it go, “I like it by the window, myself. Then the lights reflect of the glass and it looks pretty cool.”

“Then by the window it goes. If you want to start getting the tree pieces out, I’ll move things around.”

Doing the tiniest of step hops at he turned towards the box, he rubbed his hands together, “Christmas!”

&&&&&&&&&&

After the third time Mulder poked himself in the eye and Scully couldn’t see straight from laughing so hard, he declared it break time. The tree, now assembled, was still naked, the lights in a giant wad of twisted insanity that Mulder took one look at and tossed at her, “you have the patience for this nonsense.”

“Then I elect you to go make the hot chocolate.”

“Anything’s better than that nightmare.” Heading into the kitchen, he yelled to her, “you got any Christmas music?”

“You don’t know me at all, do you?”

Head buried deep in the fridge, “then play me some. It’s too quiet in here.”

“You are very bossy for somebody who doesn’t have a house key right now.”

His smiling face popped up over the open door, “pretty please?”

Hauling herself from the couch where she’d just settled down, “I’m doing this for me, not you.” Soon, low holiday music filled the apartment and the pair of them were drinking cocoa, Scully also de-tangling lights while Mulder burned his tongue. “There’s steam for a reason, Mulder. It lets you know you’re going to scald your mouth.”

“One can only wait so long though, Scully.” Taking another sip, he winced, “damn it. Still too hot.”

“It’s been 8 seconds!”

“That is at least three seconds longer than I’d normally wait.” Taking the string she’d already straightened, he began hanging them, “you should be proud.”

Eventually, the tree had lights and Mulder flipped open the ornament box, staring in slight awe, “dang. This is not your run-of-the-mill, bulbs only Christmas tree, is it?” When she didn’t answer, he looked up, catching her just as she attempted to stealthily swipe off the tears that suddenly poured down her cheeks. Not sure what to do, he met her eyes briefly, then, of their own volition, his arms raised, aiming towards her with the full intention of giving her hug.

When she went from sad face to panicked face, he realized what he was doing and stopped, politely excused himself to the bathroom instead.

He wanted to hug her.

He wished he could hug her.

But what kind of line would that be crossing? And was he supposed to cross that line? Who actually decided where the line was? Did there even have to be a line?

By the time he decided it would be safe to return to the living room, not having answered any of his bathroom-concocted questions, she seemed calmer. Her face was dry, her eyes were clear and the only hint of anything wrong was her red nose, the product of swift nose-blowing with off-brand tissue resembling sand paper.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he rocked on his stockinged heels, “I should probably head home. Let you decorate in peace.”

She genuinely didn’t want him to go though, “wait. Please, stay. I didn’t mean to make things uncomfortable. It’s just … I mean, dad loved Christmas and he gave me a lot of these ornaments and …”

Screw the line. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he turned her into him briefly, “I’d like to stay but it’s up to you.”

For an overwhelming moment, she was surrounded by that smell of his. She still hadn’t been able to figure out if it was aftershave or deodorant or soap but whatever it was, it consumed her senses and she found herself hugging him tightly around the waist while he buried her head in his shoulder, fingers at the edge of her hairline, palm cupping her skull.

Long before either one wanted to stop, they stepped back in perfect unison, both sheepishly smiling, eyes darting anywhere but at each other until Mulder chuckled, “apparently 1.5 years of partnership equals an 18-second holiday hug.”

Honestly, she wasn’t sure if he was serious and giving him what he already lovingly thought of as her inquisitive, ‘are you full of shit’ eyebrow, “were you counting?”

“There’s a good chance that being the psychologist I am, I did analyze the length of that hug but the sugar addict in me decided I needed to try my hot chocolate again so I broke it off.” Picking it up, he burned his lip, “dang it. Still hot.”

Laughing at him, she took his mug and began blowing on it, “you are hopeless.”

And it hit him like a fucking lightning bolt, rattling his brain and thumping his heart.

She was blowing on his hot chocolate.

She was freaking invading his hot chocolate with her peppermint breathe.

He was totally screwed.

He never thought he’d be so completely aware of the moment he fell in love with somebody.

Nearly giggling at the sudden rush of understanding but managing to remain simply smiling, “we should probably get to that tree, shouldn’t we?”

Scully tilted her head, a confused half-curving mouth showing over the edge of the mug before she handed it back to him, wondering if she should ask why he looked suddenly like the Cheshire Cat with a major secret, “here you go.”

“Thanks.”

&&&&&&&&&

Each ornament had a story and she told him a handful as they hung them up. He never asked, leaving it up to her to share or stay silent, taking the ornaments as she handed them to him, being much more careful than he ever thought he could be.

He imagined if he broke one, she’d never speak to him again and his world couldn’t handle that.

Once everything was up, Mulder slid by her and turned the living room lights off, leaving only the glow of the tree to illuminate the room. It cast a myriad of colors across her face and he couldn’t help but gaze openly, his cheeks pulling back for a smile but never quite making it, too engrossed in the vision before him to finish the expression. She noticed because, really, how couldn’t she notice him blatantly staring at her. Finally, “why do you keep looking at me like that? Blink or something so I know you’re still alive.”

He blinked slowly in her direction, then, not dissuaded by her attempt at breaking the spell, “you’re beautiful.”

It was a three second incredulous expression followed by a half-second of something more before she shook her head, blush spreading fast up her face and down her neck, “that hot chocolate went straight to your head, didn’t it?”

Reverie done for the moment, he chuckled, “yup. Happens every time.”

When he let a yawn slip a few minutes later, she touched his arm, then slid her hand up to his shoulder, patting him lightly on the back, gently turning his towards the door, “’m going to kick you out now. It’s late and we need to work in the morning.”

Without voicing any of the ten arguments for staying he had racing through his mind, he turned, pulled his coat on and said goodbye, debating another hug but not wanting to be slugged for it. After slipping out the door, she locked it behind him and was just about to turn the tree off and head to bed when he knocked.

Remembering suddenly, she glanced through the spyhole just to make sure, then pulled the door open, placing her copy of his house key in his hand, “I’ll be expecting that back tomorrow morning.”

“G’night, Scully.”

“G’night, Mulder.”

&&&&&&&&&&

The next morning, as she puttered around the living room gathering her shoes, current book, dirty hot cocoa mugs, something caught her eye. Turning towards the tree, it only took a moment to realize, an instant to smile, a second to wipe the sudden, stray tear dropping from her eye, then half-a-blink to break into a grin.

Hanging on her tree was a Santa hat wearing Alien Head ornament.

Upon examination, she found the year written on the bottom in Sharpie, Mulder’s hand unmistakable, even in four simple numbers.

She might have to yell at him for breaking into her house.

But maybe not.

How Rory Probably Told Sirius, James, Lily and Remus that She was Pregnant
  • Sirius: Hi, sweetheart. *kiss on forehead* Finally decided to give your old man a visit?
  • Rory: Daddy, I was here just yesterday.
  • Remus: Hello, love. :)
  • Rory: Hi, Dad. *kiss cheek* :) Hi, Uncle James, Aunt Lil.
  • James: You said that you wanted to say something important?
  • Lily: Yeah, Harry was being smug about it, too. He visited us yesterday. Said it would be better to hear it from you.
  • Sirius: Did you kill your husband?
  • Remus: Sirius, no.
  • Sirius: If you want us to hide a dead body...
  • James: I'm not saying that we will. All I'm saying is that we could.
  • Lily: Sometimes I wonder why I married the three of you.
  • Rory: The three of them, Aunt Lil?
  • Lily: Sweetheart, these three come in a package. You get one, you get three.
  • Sirius: The day she married James was the day she became Mrs. Potter-Lupin-Black-Pettigrew. (If you read my first post about her, I stated that he betrayed no one.)
  • Rory: I guess that fits.
  • Sirius: What was that about a dead body?
  • Rory: I never said anything about a dead body.
  • James: You can make it look like a suicide.
  • Rory: What?
  • Lily: I'm not encouraging it, but that seems like a really good way to get away with murder.
  • Remus: She's not wrong.
  • Rory: Why are we talking about dead bodies? I killed no one.
  • Sirius: That's a shame.
  • Lily: What did you want to say to us again, sweetheart? You said that it was important.
  • Rory: Well...
  • James: ...
  • Sirius: ...
  • Remus: ...
  • Lily: ...
  • Rory: I'm pregnant.
  • Lily: ...
  • Remus: ...
  • James: ...
  • Sirius: ...
  • Remus: ...
  • Sirius: How?
  • Rory: What do you mean "how"?
  • Sirius: Did you just wake up pregnant or something?
  • James: Maybe there's a new spell?
  • Remus: Potions have advanced within the year. Maybe she drank something that would result in her pregnancy.
  • Lily: What?
  • Rory: What?
  • Sirius: So I heard, Remus. Potions, really, who knew how advanced they would get. What potion did you use, love?
  • Rory: What?
  • Remus: Did you make the potion yourself?
  • James: What were the ingredients?
  • Lily: Oh, Lord.
  • Rory: Dad, Daddy, Uncle... I got pregnant by... um... *looks nervously at Lily* natural means.
  • Remus: What
  • James: What
  • Sirius: What
  • Lily: They've been married for 6 years. It's bound to happen.
  • Sirius: I SAID 65!
  • Rory: Daddy, really...
  • James: I ALLOWED 65!
  • Rory: Uncle James, you never said that.
  • Remus: HE SAID 65!
  • Rory: I thought you were on my side!
  • Remus: That was before you became preggers!
  • Rory: DAD WHY
  • Remus: You're grounded.
  • Rory: What?
  • Sirius: You heard your father.
  • Lily: Guys, please...
  • James: You heard Remus.
  • Remus: Go to your room and think about what you've done.
  • Rory: I'm 27! I don't live here anymore! You can't ground me!
  • Remus: Yes, I can. Your father specifically said '65.'
  • Sirius: What happened to "I'll always be your little girl?"
  • Rory: Oh my Merlin.
  • James: *stands and goes to a room*
  • Lily: James, don't.
  • James: *comes back* Sign here, here and here.
  • Sirius: What is that?
  • Rory: Uncle James, why are you giving me divorce papers?
  • James: Aurora, sweetheart, I'm sure you'll get full custody of the child.
  • Rory: What?
  • Sirius: Good thinking, James.
  • Rory: I love my husband.
  • Remus: We'll just forge his signature, it'll be fine.
  • Lily: *rolls eyes at the boys* Have you taken any vitamins?
  • Rory: Well, I took some potions. Just some strengthening potion. He's already giving his Mummy a hard time.
  • Lily: It's a boy?
  • Remus: A boy?
  • Sirius: How'd you know?
  • James: Really?
  • Rory: It's a bit early to tell. It's just my Mum instinct, I guess. I've been thinking of names, actually.
  • Lily: Oh, and?
  • Rory: Well... Um... We agreed that we'd call him Lyall Regulus, if that's okay.
  • Sirius: ...
  • Remus: ...
  • Rory: I have to get going, Dad, Daddy. He's waiting outside.
  • Sirius: Can we touch him? *gestures to stomach*
  • Rory: *smiles* Okay, Daddy.
  • Sirius: *kneels down and touches daughter's abdomen* Welcome to our family, Lyall Regulus. I'm your grandpapa. *Gestures to Remus* That's your granddad. *Gestures to James* That's your grandfather. *Gestures to Lily* That's your grandmother. *tries not to cry**cries*
  • Rory: If I can be half the parent that all of you were to me, I know I'd a good job. I promise to do my best, Daddy.
  • Hi guys! I hope you liked this xx This is just something random I thought of, really. I really do hope you enjoyed this! Thanks so much! Please do check out my other posts about her! Thanks a lot xx c:
Phineas and Ferb- Father's Day Screenshots (Under the Cut)

Quick disclaimer- the whole episode was fantastic but I only took screencaps of the Doofenshmirtz storyline part.  Also, I posted this on my non-art blog because they’re merely screencaps.  These images were not made by me (I only took the screenshots) and I don’t own them.  Phineas and Ferb (and all characters in that show) are the glorious creations of various people, namely Dan Povenmire and Jeff “Swampy” Marsh.

Also, please excuse my rabid fangirling.

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Too Close (Part 2)

Summary: Tenzin has a word with Kai about him and Jinora. 

Rating: K

Word Count: 719

A/N: Just a continuation of this as requested by an anon.

X

 Dinner was awkward. Really awkward.

Not that Kai didn’t already feel a bit out of place living among these people, but it certainly didn’t help that his master had his narrow eyes fixed on him for the entire meal. Kai couldn’t even take a bite without feeling Tenzin’s scrutinizing glare burning into him. I mean, maybe he had crossed the line earlier. Maybe he had gotten too close, but why was Tenzin being so weird about it?

Keep reading

Stiles Stilinski Imagine - "Do you think the stars can hear us?"

Semi-drunk, philosophical thinking with Stiles at 3am.

I couldn’t tell if it was grass that was making me itchy, or if it was the tag on the collar of my shirt. But I didn’t care. My mind was preoccupied with Stiles’ burning question from thirty seconds earlier: Would you rather be eight feet tall or one foot tall for the rest of your life? I rolled to my side, resting my head against my arm. Stiles raised his eyebrows asking if I made my decision, then taking a sip of beer out of his can.

“I think… I would be one foot tall,” I answered looking across the lacrosse field at the bleachers. Stiles sat up and looked at me in the eyes, appalled.

“Are you serious? One foot tall? Why the hell wouldn’t you want to be taller than everyone else, or be able to reach stuff on the top shelf of any store?”

I couldn’t help but to giggle at his small tantrum with lots of hand motions.

“Stop laughing! This is a serious matter,” he said while grabbing me by the shoulders, then taking another sip.

“Okay, okay,” I said while collecting myself, “I think being one foot tall would be kind of fun, you know? People could carry you on their shoulders, or push you in shopping carts. Your clothes would be a whole hell of a lot cheaper, too,” I grabbed his can and put it up to my lips.

He nodded his head along with whatever I said, agreeing with me.

“I mean, you probably couldn’t drive anymore, hell, you would probably have to sit in a car seat.”

We were both laughing now. I started to imagine a one foot Stiles and how cute he would be. Well, cuter I should say. Stiles is a very attractive guy, in my opinion. I looked at him while he continued to laugh. The way his eyes squinted was adorable. His eyes were probably one of my favorite things about him. You could always tell how he was feeling when you looked into them, they were usually full of life and curiosity.

As his laughter died down, he brushed his hair back from his face. He took his can back and mumbled something along the lines of “Get your own.”

I laid back down on the grass, patting the spot to the left of me. Stiles laid down next to me, closer than he was before. I started to get that warm, fluttery feeling in my stomach again.

Our arms were touching, as were our feet. I could feel my face getting hotter by the second. I looked up at the sky, trying to avoid him noticing. The sky seemed busy with stars and planes tonight. The silence between us was nice, but I decided to break it.

“If you could visit another planet, which would it be?”

I moved my hand slightly closer to his. He answered almost instantly. 

“Pluto. Its highly underappreciated. It could use some love.”

I couldn’t help but break out into a smile.

I put my hand on his shoulder as if I was comforting him, “I hate to break it to you, but Pluto isn’t a planet anymore.”

When I returned my hand to my side, I made sure that the backs of our hands were touching.

“OH MY GOD, I HATE WHEN PEOPLE SAY THAT,” he shouted at the sky. I couldn’t stop myself form hysterically laughing.

“Be quiet! People could hear us!” I said in a hushed tone.

“No one will hear us,” he said assuring.

After a few silent seconds, he asked, “Do you think the stars can hear us?”

I assumed that was the beer talking, but I still responded with a ‘nah.’

“People are just really freaking jealous that they’re not planets and Pluto is.”

I turned to him, laughing again, and said that I don’t think that’s the reason. He laughed, too, and sipped his beer. He looked at me and we both became quiet. My stomach got that feeling again. He started to reach toward my face. I held my breath. He touched my hair and whispered, “You have grass in you hair. I got it out.”

I grinned, thanking God that it was dark out so he couldn’t see me blushing, and whispered a thank you back.

Our eyes were glued to each other’s. I didn’t mind though, I didn’t want to look away. I decided to take a chance and laced my fingers with his. He looked down at our hands once I did, and grinned. He squeezed my hand lightly and started to lean in. Our foreheads and noses were touching and I could hardly breathe.

“You are so beautiful,” he mumbled against my lips. With my free hand, I reached up to the back of his neck and lightly kissed his lips. He held the side of my face delicately in his warm hand. I turned my head to deepen the kiss and ran my fingers through his hair. He took his other hand out of mine and grabbed my waist, pulling me closer. I placed my hand on his chest while he parted my lips with his own. His hand moved to the small of my back as he guided me to lay on my back. His soft lips moved down to my neck as he held my waist. I lightly moaned as I placed both of my hands on his chest.

Things stayed pretty heated for about five more minutes, that is until Stiles’ phone rang. He took his lips off mine and muttered “Oh shit.” He winced as he looked at his phone. He pressed ‘accept’ and answered with an optimistic “Hey dad…”

The call was pretty short, actually. I’m sure sheriff got right to the point because once Stiles locked his phone he said, “Well… I think its time we head home.”

As he pulled up to the front of my house, he put his jeep in park. I unbuckled myself and told him we need to do that again sometime.

“Yea, definitely, he agreed, "you know, if my dad doesn’t kill me,” he said chuckling. "Um, are you free Friday night?“

“I am now,” I smiled. I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, “See you later, Pluto.”

Undercover 15: First Christmas

Her father loved Christmas. When he was home, he woke them up with Christmas music played at full volume, singing booming carols as he cooked breakfast, decorated the house, put up lights outside. He may have been stern the rest of the year but throw a little holiday cheer his way and he was yours for the duration.

Every year, he bought each of his children an ornament for Christmas. He would have them on the tree, there name painstakingly written on the bottom and the year, for them to find Christmas morning. Once they’d moved out and taken their collections with them, he continued his practice, either mailing the decorations or, in Scully’s case, he’d slip it on her small, artificial tree wherever he visited wherever she was living at the time, be it a dorm, with a roommate or on her own.

Sitting on her couch, lights dim, television off, radio silent, she debated with herself whether to put up a tree at all this year. She’d managed to wrestle the tree box from the hall closet and now it sat mocking her in the middle of the living room, ornament container beside it, filled with memories she wasn’t sure she could deal with this year.

After 20 minutes of painful debate, her depression won out and standing to shove the boxes back in the closet, she stopped when she heard a rapping on her door, two knocks then one.

Only Mulder would have a special knock, like she was the clubhouse and he was the newest member.

“Hey.”

As he pushed past her, she followed him with her eyes as she shut the door, confusion pushing one eyebrow skyward, “What’s up?”

“I am locked out of my apartment. I thought I grabbed my house key when I left for my run but I didn’t.”

Thinking about the whistling winds blowing past her window, she looked at him, studying him unconsciously for signs of frost-bite, “did you run over here? In this cold?”

Pulling his stocking cap off and stuffing it into his pocket, “Naw. Used my Hide-a-Key to get my car key and drove over here to get my house key.”

Now she smiled, “why don’t you have a Hide-a-Housekey thing, too.”

“I have you instead.” Giving her his best, tooth-glinting grin, “so, what are you up to this fine, frigid evening?” She was going to claim laundry but his sharp eyes caught the tree box, “oooh, Christmas decorating. Need any help?” Shifting from one foot to the other, she hesitated a moment too long with her answer and Mulder’s face fell, “or not. I don’t mean to intrude.” Pulling his hat back out, he gave her a smile that told her he wasn’t annoyed, “my mother never let us help with the tree. She always said it was her thing to do alone.”

He looked so genuinely pitiful that she heard herself telling him, “no, it’s okay. I just …well, actually, I was debating putting it up at all. With dad gone …”

Mulder cut her off, hand going automatically to her arm, lightly gripping her elbow, “oh, crap. I’m sorry. I totally forgot.”

Reaching, she took his hat and stuffed it back in his pocket, “but I changed my mind. Stay and help me figure out where to put it. What do you think, by the window there or over by the fireplace, closer to the door?”

They had only been together for a little over a year but he knew her well enough to know she was full of crap, however, given he wasn’t a soulless bastard, he let it go, “I like it by the window, myself. Then the lights reflect of the glass and it looks pretty cool.”

“Then by the window it goes. If you want to start getting the tree pieces out, I’ll move things around.”

Doing the tiniest of step hops at he turned towards the box, he rubbed his hands together, “Christmas!”

&&&&&&&&&&

After the third time Mulder poked himself in the eye and Scully couldn’t see straight from laughing so hard, he declared it break time. The tree, now assembled, was still naked, the lights in a giant wad of twisted insanity that Mulder took one look at and tossed at her, “you have the patience for this nonsense.”

“Then I elect you to go make the hot chocolate.”

“Anything’s better than that nightmare.” Heading into the kitchen, he yelled to her, “you got any Christmas music?”

“You don’t know me at all, do you?”

Head buried deep in the fridge, “then play me some. It’s too quiet in here.”

“You are very bossy for somebody who doesn’t have a house key right now.”

His smiling face popped up over the open door, “pretty please?”

Hauling herself from the couch where she’d just settled down, “I’m doing this for me, not you.” Soon, low holiday music filled the apartment and the pair of them were drinking cocoa, Scully also de-tangling lights while Mulder burned his tongue. “There’s steam for a reason, Mulder. It lets you know you’re going to scald your mouth.”

“One can only wait so long though, Scully.” Taking another sip, he winced, “damn it. Still too hot.”

“It’s been 8 seconds!”

“That is at least three seconds longer than I’d normally wait.” Taking the string she’d already straightened, he began hanging them, “you should be proud.”

Eventually, the tree had lights and Mulder flipped open the ornament box, staring in slight awe, “dang. This is not your run-of-the-mill, bulbs only Christmas tree, is it?” When she didn’t answer, he looked up, catching her just as she attempted to stealthily swipe off the tears that suddenly poured down her cheeks. Not sure what to do, he met her eyes briefly, then, of their own volition, his arms raised, aiming towards her with the full intention of giving her hug.

When she went from sad face to panicked face, he realized what he was doing and stopped, politely excused himself to the bathroom instead.

He wanted to hug her.

He wished he could hug her.

But what kind of line would that be crossing? And was he supposed to cross that line? Who actually decided where the line was? Did there even have to be a line?

By the time he decided it would be safe to return to the living room, not having answered any of his bathroom-concocted questions, she seemed calmer. Her face was dry, her eyes were clear and the only hint of anything wrong was her red nose, the product of swift nose-blowing with off-brand tissue resembling sand paper.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he rocked on his stockinged heels, “I should probably head home. Let you decorate in peace.”

She genuinely didn’t want him to go though, “wait. Please, stay. I didn’t mean to make things uncomfortable. It’s just … I mean, dad loved Christmas and he gave me a lot of these ornaments and …”

Screw the line. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he turned her into him briefly, “I’d like to stay but it’s up to you.”

For an overwhelming moment, she was surrounded by that smell of his. She still hadn’t been able to figure out if it was aftershave or deodorant or soap but whatever it was, it consumed her senses and she found herself hugging him tightly around the waist while he buried her head in his shoulder, fingers at the edge of her hairline, palm cupping her skull.

Long before either one wanted to stop, they stepped back in perfect unison, both sheepishly smiling, eyes darting anywhere but at each other until Mulder chuckled, “apparently 1.5 years of partnership equals an 18-second holiday hug.”

Honestly, she wasn’t sure if he was serious and giving him what he already lovingly thought of as her inquisitive, ‘are you full of shit’ eyebrow, “were you counting?”

“There’s a good chance that being the psychologist I am, I did analyze the length of that hug but the sugar addict in me decided I needed to try my hot chocolate again so I broke it off.” Picking it up, he burned his lip, “dang it. Still hot.”

Laughing at him, she took his mug and began blowing on it, “you are hopeless.”

And it hit him like a fucking lightning bolt, rattling his brain and thumping his heart.

She was blowing on his hot chocolate.

She was freaking invading his hot chocolate with her peppermint breathe.

He was totally screwed.

He never thought he’d be so completely aware of the moment he fell in love with somebody.

Nearly giggling at the sudden rush of understanding but managing to remain simply smiling, “we should probably get to that tree, shouldn’t we?”

Scully tilted her head, a confused half-curving mouth showing over the edge of the mug before she handed it back to him, wondering if she should ask why he looked suddenly like the Cheshire Cat with a major secret, “here you go.”

“Thanks.”

&&&&&&&&&

Each ornament had a story and she told him a handful as they hung them up. He never asked, leaving it up to her to share or stay silent, taking the ornaments as she handed them to him, being much more careful than he ever thought he could be.

He imagined if he broke one, she’d never speak to him again and his world couldn’t handle that.

Once everything was up, Mulder slid by her and turned the living room lights off, leaving only the glow of the tree to illuminate the room. It cast a myriad of colors across her face and he couldn’t help but gaze openly, his cheeks pulling back for a smile but never quite making it, too engrossed in the vision before him to finish the expression. She noticed because, really, how couldn’t she notice him blatantly staring at her. Finally, “why do you keep looking at me like that? Blink or something so I know you’re still alive.”

He blinked slowly in her direction, then, not dissuaded by her attempt at breaking the spell, “you’re beautiful.”

It was a three second incredulous expression followed by a half-second of something more before she shook her head, blush spreading fast up her face and down her neck, “that hot chocolate went straight to your head, didn’t it?”

Reverie done for the moment, he chuckled, “yup. Happens every time.”

When he let a yawn slip a few minutes later, she touched his arm, then slid her hand up to his shoulder, patting him lightly on the back, gently turning his towards the door, “’m going to kick you out now. It’s late and we need to work in the morning.”

Without voicing any of the ten arguments for staying he had racing through his mind, he turned, pulled his coat on and said goodbye, debating another hug but not wanting to be slugged for it. After slipping out the door, she locked it behind him and was just about to turn the tree off and head to bed when he knocked.

Remembering suddenly, she glanced through the spyhole just to make sure, then pulled the door open, placing her copy of his house key in his hand, “I’ll be expecting that back tomorrow morning.”

“G’night, Scully.”

“G’night, Mulder.”

&&&&&&&&&&

The next morning, as she puttered around the living room gathering her shoes, current book, dirty hot cocoa mugs, something caught her eye. Turning towards the tree, it only took a moment to realize, an instant to smile, a second to wipe the sudden, stray tear dropping from her eye, then half-a-blink to break into a grin.

Hanging on her tree was a Santa hat wearing Alien Head ornament.

Upon examination, she found the year written on the bottom in Sharpie, Mulder’s hand unmistakable, even in four simple numbers.

She might have to yell at him for breaking into her house.

But maybe not.

anonymous asked:

Doesn't seem like the last anon took you up on that dare. So, I dare you to tell us a story from when you were young (preferably, a happy one, but if not then any will do).

“A…. happy story from when I was younger…? Er….. I don’t think I have one-”

“Oh! Wait! One time me n’ Nightshade… Well…. When Nightshade was real small… We went out frog catchin.”

“It was real nice because that day we actually got along…. and… my dad actually acknowledged my existence?? He was actually kinda proud of me for once….” 

August 18th

This one will need an explanation. I took a date (actually hubby gave me one) and I wrote drabbles for ten years of conversations between Z and V (either face-face or via the phone) that took place that day. Think of it as if someone filmed a documentary of their lives but for some reason only stopped by one day a year.

Title: August 18th
Fandom: Valdaya (don’t like don’t read!)
Note: I know it’s a bit different…but I hope a good different!

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