i just realized i originally tagged this as new york mets

Ungrateful Part. 2

Requested: No

Summary: Peter Parker found his soulmate in kindergarten, and started dating them at age 11, but he still can’t seem to shake his feelings for a certain Gwen Stacy.

Word Count: 1,826

Part 1 

Part 2 

Part 3

A/N: I really hope you guys like this, and I worked hard on it! Im going to dedicate this to @sailorkeann , she wasn’t feeling well last time I talked to her, so I really hope she’s feeling better! 

(Im working on the Damian fic for u don’t worry)

Also I plan to make an epilouge where the reader and Peter meet when they’re older, so stay tuned!

Y/F/N = Your Father’s Name

Y/M/N = Your Mother’s Name

F/BB/M = Famous Boy Band Member 

Y/N was a total wreck. They trusted Peter with all of their heart, and thought he did too. Apparently, they were wrong. 

Sobbing loudly, running through their house to their room, their parents nearly had a panic attack. They followed Y/N into their bedroom, and once they heard what had happened they instantly became more sympathetic. While their mother went to the store to get them snacks, junk food, and anything else they would need during their mourning period. Their father made their bed with the warmest blankets and comfiest pillows as Y/N was taking a shower. 

It was sad for the next few weeks in the Y/L/N household. But Y/N’s parents stayed supportive and let them stay on the couch, even though it was spring break, and in any other situation they would have told Y/N to go out and do something

But, this isn’t any other situation. 

Keep reading

Enjolras x Grantaire Fic Recs

Updated. I have read so much Les Mis fic in the last year it’s not funny. I just fell headfirst into this fandom. Oops. I decided I really need to make a list of all the fics I loved. 

After The End by tellthemstories 74,702 Grantaire’s life goes to hell at 5pm on a Saturday evening. Which is actually kind of ironic, really, seeing as how the rest of the world went to hell almost seven years earlier.

Best Kept Secrets by tellthemstories 33,338 Cosette is coming to visit. Enjolras needs a fake boyfriend he can date and then break up with, so she’ll stop trying to set him up with random guys. Somehow, he ends up pretending to date Grantaire. It goes better than expected — Until it doesn’t.

box of secrets by nightswatch 53,816 Grantaire leaves his doodles all over the place. Enjolras collects them without knowing who drew them.

But I See You by RavenXavier 38, 618 It’s not easy being a Seer in the modern times, especially when they are so many of them promising you happiness and good fortune at every corner of the street. Contrary to most though, Grantaire is the True Deal, which means that not only does she get a lot of visions (that aren’t always nice), she also needs an Anchor, otherwise she’ll end up mad.It’s not until she begins to run out of time that she actually meets hers.     Unfortunately, her Anchor is a passionate blond activist that doesn’t believe in Seers or Fate, and doesn’t have time to take care of a woman she barely knows and doesn’t like much (especially as she has some personal problems of her own to deal with).

Commonwealth Gaymes by Pepperweb 35, 118 Inspired by the 2014 Glasgow Commonwealth Games. Grantaire is a boxer and Enjolras a gymnast but Enjolras doesnt think boxing should be allowed and Grantaire thinks gymnastics is too fluffy to be real. What happens when they take up Combeferre’s challenge and see each other compete? 

Cooking Up Love by sarahyyy 14,259 

“I really hate elimination challenges,” Enjolras says with a sigh. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” Grantaire says dryly, grinning at him.

(Or, the MasterChef AU.)

dance this silence down (the emergency room remix) by fahye 54,233

He’s sitting in a car with all of his belongings in the back seat and his hands wrapped around the steering wheel, admitting to himself that a stupid, dizzy firework of a one-night-stand with a man he’d barely known is one of the only bright memories he has right now.

[In which Enjolras and Grantaire make some music, make some terrible decisions, and make a habit out of doing everything in the wrong order.]

Darker, Sooner by HailMary 54,571. Grantaire is offered a choice: either become the government’s mole in the Friends of the ABC or suffer the consequences. He chooses to be a mole.

Gnomon by luchia 75,387 Enjolras is the leader of the ‘militant extremist organization’ ABC, and he and his human shadow Grantaire are somewhere in Russia doing shit that Grantaire can’t even try to explain - Enjolras is acting strange and something Grantaire can’t name has gone horribly wrong and christ he should not be sober right now.

Grounds For Dismissal by The Librarina (tears_of_nienna) 12,312 Enjolras does not have time to deal with a new barista this morning.

How the Future’s Done by barricadeur 12,212 

“Grantaire,” he says slowly. “What do you have in that box?”

Grantaire looks up at Enjolras, his eyes very blue even with the glaze of drunkenness at the edges. “A favor,” he says.

if you remembered me by nightswatch 40,156 Enjolras suffers from temporary amnesia after a car accident, Grantaire agrees to stay with him until he gets back his memories.

If Vidocq Could See Us Now by leahxleah 33,416. Enjolras is one of the best detectives in Homicide; unfortunately, he can’t keep a partner for long. Getting assigned Grantaire–the Narcotics officer freshly released from rehab–seems like a punishment, but it may be a blessing in disguise.

Pining For You by The Librarina (tears_of_nienna) 28, 245. After he gets laid off, Grantaire moves back home to help out on his father’s Christmas tree farm. But when a shady businessman starts trying to move in on their property, an improbably handsome lawyer from the city might be their only hope to save the farm.

Let Me Count The Ways by zimriya 58,408. 10 Things I Hate About You AU. “So, let me get this straight,” says Combeferre after three rings. He sounds half asleep, and Enjolras winces. “Your crazy ex-convict of a father has decided that Cosette can only date people once you do?”


There’s the sound of movement as Combeferre unplugs his phone and settles back against his pillows. “And you, somehow–stupidly, I might add–decided to make her happy by agreeing to date someone?”

Love in a Coffee Shop by tellthemstories 22,887 Grantaire’s a famous rock star. Enjolras owns a coffee shop slash book store that makes no money and is dangerously close to becoming hipster. One night, Grantaire stumbles in when they’re closed. Somehow, that’s the most normal part of his week.

Secret Agent Man by goshemily 30,126 Enjolras and Grantaire are spies sent to a small village in the south of France to be undercover boyfriends.

six feet under the stars by nightswatch 52, 909 Enjolras decides that he needs a break and goes on a road trip. On the way he comes across a hitchhiker, who quickly becomes a new friend for him on the road.

Still the Same by The Librarina (tears_of_nienna) 74,338 Enjolras caught the infamous art thief Grantaire in his first month as an FBI agent. Four years later, a supposedly reformed Grantaire works out a deal to help the FBI catch an organized crime boss–with Enjolras as his handler. But working together is more frustrating than Enjolras could have believed, and it doesn’t help that Grantaire has started an actual book club with Enjolras’ husband. White Collar AU.

summer’s lease by nightswatch 48,676 Grantaire’s parents send him to spend the summer with friends of the family. Their son, Enjolras, is probably the last person he’d want to spend his summer with.

Tagged by Salomonderiel 155, 786. Graffiti artist AU.

The Con That We Call Love by kjack89 Not even a month ago, FBI White Collar unit Agent Grantaire put the notorious conman Enjolras in jail. Now, the FBI needs Enjolras’s help, and Grantaire has to deal with a con who he may not trust, but may also be a little in love with.

To Dust or To Gold by captainskellington 25,556 A Hunger Games AU based entirely in the week leading up to the games themselves. (As such, no actual death occurs.) Grantaire is a stylist, Enjolras is his tribute.

The Five Year Plan by Neery 16,069 Enjolras loses his memory. Thankfully, nothing unexpected seems to have happened to him in the five years he can’t remember. Well, except for the boyfriend. The boyfriend’s kind of a surprise.

The Ghost of You by luchia 25,127 Grantaire moves into an apartment inhabited by a poltergeist. Enjolras haunts him, and Grantaire should really win an award for most complicated relationship status ever.

The Golden Mean by KateAtTheClose 9,429 When Grantaire’s health makes it necessary to cease drinking, Les Amis are there to help him through it. None more so than Enjolras, who starts to realize just how wrong he has been in his judgements of the other man.

The People Sing by littledust 59, 604 Cosette, an aspiring musician, is certain she’s locked into her terrible recording contract forever and the public will never get to hear her music. Then a mysterious DJ named Enjolras remixes one of her original demos. She follows his digital trail to a club called the ABC, where she’s offered the chance to join the music revolution. What ensues includes romance, past lives revealed, the making of an album, and a protest concert. 

the things we whisper in the dark by nightswatch 30,286. Grantaire is a journalist living and working in New York. When he meets his new neighbor, Enjolras, he has no idea what kind of trouble he’s getting into.

They Write Books About This Sort of Thing by samyazaz 50, 670. Grantaire is an author. His editor, Enjolras comes on his book tour with him.

Transitory Withdrawal by zimriya 21,988 The thing is, Grantaire knows exactly where he went wrong. It wasn’t wandering into one of Enjolras’ lectures on a rainy afternoon, or even texting him increasingly cryptic messages from his brand new phone. No, Grantaire’s mistake was deciding to let his guard down long enough around Eponine to let her take him drinking, and crying about how no one would ever date him.

We Are Who We Are by sigh_no_more 29,691 Enjolras develops a crush on a new friend. The only problem is they’ve never met face to face, and only correspond via the Internet. As he falls more and more for this mysterious pen pal, he starts a job at The Musain Books and Café, where he finds himself instantly at odds with Grantaire, the barista. Or, a Shop Around the Corner/You’ve Got Mail adaptation.

World Ain’t Ready by idiopathicsmile 185,796 (UPDATE 2/6/15, Complete and it is wonderful). High school AU. Grantaire the disaffected stoner is pulled into a cause bigger than himself. Or: in which there are pretend boyfriends for great justice.

Years Since It’s Been Clear by lady_ragnell 10, 726. Grantaire really doesn’t expect Enjolras to force him to move in with him when he hears how shitty Grantaire’s apartment is. And he definitely doesn’t expect Enjolras to want him to stay, or how easy it turns out to be, or the way Enjolras has a habit of doing his studying in the sunshine on the living room floor…Yeah, he may be in some trouble.

You Dance Dreams by lady_ragnell 61, 252. For most of college, Grantaire was hopeless over Enjolras, and everyone but Enjolras knew it. Now he’s worked to get over his crush, and for the most part, he’s fine. When Combeferre asks him to choreograph and dance in the Midsummer Night’s Dream-inspired opera he composed as his senior thesis, Grantaire says yes, even though he’s cast opposite Enjolras, as Puck to his Oberon. The chance to dance is worth the potential problems, and he’ll have his friends as a buffer.

You Are the Moon by samyazaz 62,129 It’s been six months since Grantaire left the Musain and her crew – and her captain – behind him, but the quieter life he’d hoped to make for himself is thrown into turmoil when a convict and his daughter crash down into the middle his little outer-system settlement.

You Say You Want a Revolution by kjack89 and satb31 Les Amis de l'ABC is an anti-Vietnam War student protest group in the late 1960s, when the draft and turmoil on college campuses force more radical - and violent - actions, including actions that cannot be undone and will forever change the lives of those involved.

From Ezra-Miller.org (July 2014)

I Met Ezra

It’s been over 2 months now that I met Ezra Miller. Yes, our Ezra miller. Most fangirls would take to the internet immediately and start rehashing every detail, and considering I am the owner of his fansite (the first one ever on him) you would think I would be no exception, and probably the most excited fangirl ever.

The truth is that I am still processing everything. It doesn’t seem real to me. The situation was so coincidental and random that it really made me put a new perspective on Ezra, celebrity, fan sites, and myself.

I have been making fansites for a DECADE now, and one thing I realized is that the ‘myself’ category is rarely, if ever, there in this world. The webmasters (or webmisses, which seems to be the norm), rarely ever mention themselves in their posts, except to apologize for taking a hiatus. Their ‘job’ is to write down the celebrity’s every move, new photo, new project, new appearance, new quote, new rumor. They are always in service to this person, and the payoff (at least for me) has been the excitement of seeing these new career projects and appearances transpire, competing with other fansites, collecting photos (like Pokemon, you gotta catch ‘em all), and lets face it — living vicariously through this person.

Back in 2004, there was creativity, possibility, interaction with the fans like you don’t see as much today. Today it is too easy. Before you had to go to different sites and gather pieces of code and create something unique. Today you can set up the website in 5 seconds with WordPress, slab a few photos on pre-made templates, and call it your own. I have fallen very much victim to this laziness.

In 2004, you had to research the web high and low for ‘information’ on your celeb, had to go to your CVS and scan through all the teeny-bopper magazines, heart racing at the site of your him or her, then tear the page out when no one was looking and fold it in your Dickies purse in a way which wouldn’t bend it, scan it when the computer coast was clear, and then put it up on your site and call it exclusive. Now you can find said scans all over, and photos are reblogged, tagged, untagged, downloaded, uploaded, screenshotted, and photoshopped so much that nothing can really be ‘yours’ anymore. Fansites continuously steal from each other, when the original image belongs to someone who belongs to someone who belongs to someone anyways. The fun was in the finding, the searching, the creating.

But now the celebrities themselves tweet left and right and up and down and new photos and tweets come out several times a day. They almost normalize themselves to the level where you feel like they are your true friend, yet they are still revered and put on even higher pedestals.

There is almost something odd about knowing so much truth to the people that you idolize. Some things you don’t want to know. Sometimes you don’t want to know they are human. Sometimes you do … [really? You went to Oxford, you look fab in every picture, and you everyone likes you — can you please do something wrong? (well you’re actings only sub-par, but that’s besides the point).]

It’s come to the point where I’ve started to not like some of the celebrities I used to admire. There’s nothing interesting about perfection, and there’s certainly nothing exciting about a good role model (though it’s a good excuse to add legitimacy to your fan site, instead of just having one on someone you think is cute/hot/adorable/stylish/god-like). The more human these celebs are, the more likable they are. Anna Kendrick is probably one of the most likable celeb out there, and at the same time the most relatable, open, and honest. It’s as if she’s embarrassed about her celebrity. I met her after an episode of Craig Ferguson taping in L.A. where I was in the studio audience. I saw her after the show and blurted out that I ran her fan site (also the original Anna site 😉 )She was so nice and open, and genuinely excited about it. She said I could of course take a photo with her, but the planets were aligned in the wrong way and I realized that the security guards had taken all of our electronics away before we entered the set. Instead I hugged her and then ashamedly scampered away.

With Ezra, technology cursed me once again, yet the planets still aligned. I was literally having one of the worst days of my life. I was in New York city visiting with my boyfriend from out of the country. My boyfriend was doing touristy stuff, and we had just gotten kicked out of our hostel a day early, so I decided to go on a literary drinking tour of Greenwich village. I was running late and joined the tour at the White Horse Tavern, just as the woman was rehashing the infamous Dylan Thomas drinking story, where Dylan Thomas claimed he could drink sixteen shots of Whiskey before he passed out. On the way to the next venue, I trailed behind the group and took in the hipsterish Greenwich village. As a ‘webmiss,’ I am very aesthetically oriented, and make sure not to miss any detail. Greenwich village is sensory overload, and there is so much to look at in terms of parks, pooches, fashion, storefronts, subways, cafes etc that it got a little distracting. One store front had a sign that said PUPPIES. How the hell can you not stop? I stopped, fawned for a few seconds, and then when I looked up again, my tour group was completely gone. Instead, there were mobs of tourists, hipsters, new yawkas, and everyone else. I simply looked around and realized I was in the middle of a crowded city and didn’t know what the fuck i was doing or where I was going. I called the tour group and there was an answering machine. I called the bar and they yelled at me. I called my boyfriend and then my phone died. I wandered around and went to a park to sit in the grass and cry. Just as I was walking on the grass a lady jumped out and said I wasn’t allowed to walk on the grass. I didn’t know grass was just for looking at. I just wanted to be alone and so I ignored her and walked backwards on the grass in the opposite direction. She cornered me with her other old lady friend and they started yelling about how I wasn’t allowed on the grass. “Do you own this grass?” I asked. “Yes,” they said. I leaned down and grabbed some. “It’s just grass! Now leave me alone!” Then I looked up and saw the name of the park was the same as my last name — an old German name, pretty uncommon. Had to be a sign, right? I went somewhere else to cry privately. A quiet, colorful alleyway near a cutesy Mexican restaurant seemed perfect. That’s when I saw an adorable little dog and two hipsters sitting on the side of a graffitiied wall. I did a double take and looked at one of the hipsters — he was wearing purple heart-shaped glasses and had a mass of black hair with some white wisps. I recognized him before I asked the question, shocked — “Are you Ezra Miller?” He laughed and admitted that he indeed was.

“Wow, I wasn’t stalking you — I swear!” (I actually was surprised I wasn’t!).

Then I stomped my foot when I realized…

“Dammit, my phone just ran out of batteries.”

“Well, you’d be a bad stalker then,” he laughed.

With the threat of unwanted snaps out of the way, I believe he patted to a spot next to him and his friend and encouraged me to sit down. I could have imagined this, but someway or another I was sitting down next to them and we were all chatting. I’m usually a shy person, but the one exception is when i’m around celebrities. Even though I spend so long blogging about them, I can’t stop talking about myself when I’m around them. I told Michael Cera I was in lesbian with him. That’s another story. At any rate— i’m pretty sure I even interrupted Ezra a few times to talk about myself. He asked if I was really crying before I came there and I said yes, and told him the story about how I got here.

And then I knew I needed to admit that I had a fan site about him. And to tell you the truth, I was ashamed. Because, as I said, a fan site doesn’t require work like it did back in the day. A fan site now means I drool over photos of you and write about your every move. I didn’t want to scare him away, but I knew I had to tell him, because it wasn’t fair to pretend I didn’t ‘really’ know him. I prefaced it by saying there was someone thing weird that I had to say — but it wasn’t as weird as that one guy I read about in an interview that wrote to him about collecting his hair or whatever. They said whatever it was couldn’t be worse then what they were already both thinking it could be at that point. I hesitated, took a deep breath, and was about to admit it, when, conveniently, another tour group came by with some eclectic dude playing the violin and crying. Ezra said “Hey, I think I found your tour group. I assured him that that wash’t mine. I told him I had a fan site on him and there was what seemed like a long pause. And then he said “Which one?” and I told him Ezra-miller.org. He laughed and said “Oh, the organization?” And I told him a little bit about the background. He and his friend were both trying to quit smoking and told me they were dying for a cigarette (not sure if the craving was a total coincidence to the timing of my revelation). I asked him what he was doing lately and whether he fired his publicist because there hadn’t been any news or photos lately and he said no he’s just been taking it easy and enjoying his time off, but things will start up again soon with Madame Bovary promotion.

When I wasn’t shaking on the inside, I did manage to pick-up a few things that Ezra actually said. He said he thinks we (the fans) idealize him, build him up to be G/d like. That we should focus our energy on something greater than him. He thinks we made him up to be something that he never really can be. He thinks we (myself included) should focus energy on the real G/d or a greater form of art — why not make a cool personal blog? he suggested.

He said I should steer the conversation towards what he’d doing, and his campaigns (like with the Arctic). He wants it to be about his art, and what he believes in, but not about himself.
He said he didn’t want it to just be about girls gawking at how ‘pretty’ he was.

In many ways I completely agree. I told him that, even having a fan site on him was better than one for, say, Miley Cyrus, because it gets “kids” to look at his interviews and watch movies with a point, that they wouldn’t otherwise.

His friend assured me that my hobby wasn’t weird — if it made me happy, I should do it. I said I guess I thought it was weird because I didn’t know anyone else in person who made fansites in real life — just online.

Another fan spotted him from a few feet away and asked for a pic and he said no. She said he liked his work. He talked about how once one person notices him, it’s like they all did. I mentioned that his glasses were off now, and he put them back on. He said other celebs do the whole hat and glasses thing.

I asked about the fan site dilemma. Did he want be to take the site off? Did he want an official fan site (hey — it was worth a try!)

“No, no. I don’t want any of that.” He said to keep the sites, but respect his privacy.

(And I swear after my little boasting rampage of a story about how we met I will really start respecting it!)

He seemed to be very vexed about the idea of celebrity, and gave a great quote from Patti Smith’s memoir by Patti Smith. The problem, he said, was that the actors always wanted the fans and the press to concentrate on their work, but the fans and press always want to concentrate on the celebrities personal life.

I may have had tears in my eyes, he instructed me to pet his friend’s dog — that the dog was nervous. “Just cause she’s getting emotional doesn’t mean you have to also,” he comforted the shaking chihuahua mix.

Fangirl moment: SO SWEET!!!!

We talked about e-cigarettes and regular cigarettes. Ezra and his friend gave up on their 30-minute break and got some cigarettes from a non-suspecting passerby. I tried to tell him not to smoke, that us fans wanted him around for a while. I TRIED. For the record, I asked if he did hard drugs too (I was a little skeptical after the frog-in-the-pocket premiere look), and he genuinely said no — he was way passed that. He offered me his watermelon and coconut juice! (I said no, I didn’t want to contaminate it).

I told him that I knew he was nice, and everyone knew and was impressed by how well-spoken he was, but I didn’t realize how generous he really was. I am still in shock by it. [Celebrity or not, he really is an amazingly, sweet, generous, human being.]

I gave him my number on a dollar bill that I had. I didn’t have a pen in my purse so I used my favorite sparkly black eye liner. For a second I hesitated to use that, but then I remembered it was EZRA MILLER, and he had ASKED ME FOR MY PHONE NUMBER! (But just in case he needed to speak through the masses and get something across in some sort of fan-copalypse).

He said everything happened for a reason and everything was connected, and that I met him for a reason.

He said that now I knew him for real. I didn’t really know him before — I had (we all had) an idealized image of who he was.

Now I do know him for real, now I do know he is human — and I can vouch that Ezra, along with his friend are some of the greatest humans you will (well…I :p) will ever meet. They offered me comfort and companionship when I really needed it. They could have been weirded out by who I was and what I did (or not hid it so well) and treated me like the sub-human that I felt like. But they treated me like equals.

I will try and value Ezra’s privacy, and do my best to keep the site focused on his work and his campaigns. If you really love Ezra, you will do the same.

Fans, and especially fan site owners — I’d really be interested in your take on all of this. Please comment. Lets bring back the creativity, the conversation, and the community that there used to be in this ‘world’. Let’s focus on the ideas, and what these celebs bring to us through their art, not just swoon over their looks (but Ezra, I don’t know if you can really stop us from doing that at all, frog-in-pocket or not 😉 )

Begin Again

Originally posted by vinnikaite

Originally posted by sensualkisses

Based on Prompt: I have a prompt that would mean a lot to me if you wrote it at some point. One where the reader has had a past abusive/manipulative relationship and is afraid to date again. She meets Bucky, (post tws maybe?) and they start hanging out, but soon he realizes that she’s very nervous and panics at small things, like when she thinks Bucky is upset. & she breaks down to him about her abusive relationship he is very supportive and loving in return!

Potential Trigger Warning: mention of past abusive relationship, PTSD of sorts

A/N: So I hope this is okay.  I wrote it to the best of my ability, I did some research and stuff and I hope that it is decent.  I mean no disrespect or anything to people who have dealt with this, and if there is something that is offensive or wildly incorrect, please let me know so that I can change it.  I hope it’s not terrible.  Also, because it’s more delicate subject matter, I’m not gonna tag anyone, just in case.  Hope this is somewhere along the lines of what the original requester asked for!


“Do you know where the baking stuff is?”

Bucky freezes at his spot next to the counter, cereal spoon halfway up to his mouth.  He turns to look at you, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights.

The two of you have never met before, but you’re terrible with introductions.  You usually get so nervous that words start spewing out of your mouth in the wrong order and it’s awkward and embarrassing.  So much for attempting to avoid that.

“Second cabinet to the right, top shelf,” he says finally and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Thanks,” you smile, scurrying over to the cabinet.  You open it and your heart drops.  The cabinet’s tall, ridiculously tall, and of course, everything you need is at the very, very top.  There’s no way you can reach it from the ground and as you look around, you realize there’s no nearby chairs or step-stools to use to climb up.  The only other option is to climb up into the counter, which is not the best option considering the fact that you’re wearing a skirt.  

You stand there, looking up and weighing your options when you feel something brush against you.  You jump back, force of habit, and see Bucky silently reaching up.  

“What do you need?” he asks.

“Flour, sugar, baking powder, and vanilla extract,” you recite.  He grabs the items as you list them and hands them back down to you.  Once he’s done, he returns to his cereal.

“Thanks,” you say.  “I’m (Y/N), by the way.  New S.H.I.E.L.D. liaison.” 


You nod, unable to come up with any sort of dialogue to further the conversation.  Bucky nods and shovels another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.  You grab milk and eggs from the fridge, along with a mixing bowl and whisk and spread yourself out at the opposite side of the counter.

Every few seconds, you sneak a peek at Bucky, trying to come up with something to say.  Something so that you’re not permanently just ‘that awkward human’ in his head.

“So, um…you like cereal?” you say and immediately cringe.  It sounds so awkward, so desperate.  He looks up at you, his eyes unreadable.

“It’s alright,” he mumbles.

“I was just wondering,” you say, mixing together the ingredients.  “Cuz I’m making waffles, so you know.  If you want a waffle…I can do that.  I’m making them anyway, so…”  You let yourself peter out, resigned to the fact that Bucky now probably thinks you’re a total dork.

“You want to make me a waffle?” Bucky asks.  “Do you…you don’t even know who I am.”

“I do now,” you reply.  “You’re Bucky.”

“No, that’s not…” he takes a deep breath, and when he looks up at you, you catch a flash of pain in his eyes.  “I used to be the Winter Soldier.  Hydra’s assassin.  I killed people.  Lots of people.”  You stop whisking for a second, trying to figure out how to respond.

“Well, if you could quell any particularly murderous urges,” you say, trying to keep your voice light.  “At least for the next twenty minutes…”  

You hear him laugh, a low and quiet chuckle, but it’s enough to break the tension in the room.  You continue whisking, stopping to grab the waffle maker and plug it in.  You look back up at Bucky, whose gaze has gone back to being unreadable.  

“Did you…you heard what I said?” he asks, and the apprehension in his voice breaks your heart.

“I did,” you say, pouring the mix into the waffle iron.


“I don’t think your past should define you,” you say simply.  “I don’t think it dictates your future.  And it certainly isn’t gonna change my opinion of you.”  The two of you don’t exchange any further words until ten minutes later when you slide his plate of waffles across the table.

“Thank you,” he says.

“You’re welcome,” you smile.  “Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

After that, the two of you are fast friends.  You form relationships with all the Avengers, but you and Bucky have something different.  When you’re not preparing mission briefings and Bucky’s not training or attending therapy, the two of you are out exploring New York, or trying new recipes, or simply talking on the Tower’s rooftop.  Pretty soon, Steve has to fight to get any time at all with his best friend.  


“You’ve got to try these, doll.  I didn’t know what anything was, so I just grabbed two of everything, but they’re the most amazing-”  Bucky doesn’t bother finishing, shoving another one of the tasty appetizers into his mouth before handing you the plate.  You smile and place one in your mouth, eyes widening as you realize Bucky’s right.

“Oh my god.  These are really good.”

“Right?” Bucky smiles.  “Stark sure knows how to throw a party.”  It’s then that he realizes that you aren’t alone.  Another man is standing across from you, clearly irked by Bucky’s present.  “Sorry, was I interrupting something?”

“No, it’s fine,” you say, trying to mask the relief in your voice.

“I was just leaving,” the man says.  “I’ll see you around, (Y/N).”  He walks away and you make a face at Bucky before digging into the rest of the appetizers.

“Who was that?” Bucky asks.

“Co-worker,” you say, polishing off the last of the appetizers.  “Where’s the food table?  I want more of these.”

“Doll, are you sure I wasn’t interrupting?” Bucky asks, watching the man’s retreating figure.

“Absolutely,” you say.  “He had just asked me out.”  You’re examining your empty plate, so you don’t see the flood of emotions in Bucky’s eyes––disappointment, quickly chased away by guilt––before he composes his face into a smile.

“Hey, don’t lie to me,” he says playfully.  “Next time, just do some sort of signal and I’ll give you some space.”

“No, your timing was good,” you reply.  “I had just turned him down.  So you kind of saved me.”

“What?  Why’d you turn him down?”  The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitches as his smile turns from façade to genuine.

“I’m just…not looking to date anyone right now,” you say, feeling the color rise in your cheeks.  Suddenly, your mouth feels dry and the words just aren’t coming to you.  “I don’t…I just…”

“Doll, it’s fine,” Bucky says, sensing your discomfort.  “You don’t have to explain anything to me.  The guy seemed a little uptight, if you ask me.”

“He is,” you say, glad for the change of topic.  “I think I hear some appetizers calling my name.”  

“After you.”  You smile gratefully and follow him through the crowd.  You tell Bucky almost everything, but there are still parts of yourself that you haven’t yet shared with him.  This is one of them, and you hope that you have time to figure it out for yourself before circumstance forces your hand.

As it turns out, you’re not so lucky.


The minute you walk into the room, you know it’s one of Bucky’s bad days.

You’ve talked with Steve about them at great length, but you’d yet to experience one first hand.  He didn’t have them as often as he used to, and the ones that had happened since you’d met had taken place on days you’d been sent out on missions.

Still, you spent so much time with him that you could tell that something was off today.  He seemed on edge, pacing back and forth, his eyes unfocused.

“Bucky?” you ask.  He looks up, and you see a hint of his normal self as he attempts to smile.

“H-hey doll,” he says shakily.  “I…nightmare.  Last night.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” you ask quietly.

“Didn’t want to wake you,” he says, and you immediately know it’s a lie.  When the nightmares are really bad, he calls Steve instead of you.  It’s unspoken, but you know he’s afraid that he’ll hurt you.  He knows Steve can hold him down if he has to.

“Bucky…” you say, stepping towards him, but he backs away.  He steps to the cabinet, opens it up and takes out a mug.  His hands are trembling, ever so slightly and the cup slips out of his hands, falling to the floor.  It shatters, the sound ringing out and echoing through the kitchen.  You feel every hair on your body stand up straight as your blood runs cold.

“I’ve got it,” he says quickly.  He bends down to pick up the shards, but the shaking in his hands has gotten worse and he slices his thumb open on of the sharper edges.  “Damn it!”  His voice, the anger in it, the volume, brings your memories up to the surface and you have to fight the instinct of every cell in your body.  Telling you to run.

“Bucky, I’ll get it,” you say and you’re relieved when he backs away.  You sweep up the pieces and deposit them in the trash, trying to ignore the cold sweat that feels like it’s enveloping your body.

“I’m sorry doll,” he says hoarsely, retreating to a corner of the kitchen.  You want to help him, but you’re fighting your own instincts in order to stay.  You reach into your pocket and send a quick text to Steve, knowing that you’re of little use to Bucky anymore.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask quietly.

“Not really,” Bucky replies.  The two of you stand there in silence, you fighting off the wave of memories that you’d had safely locked away, until the door finally opens and Steve steps through.  He looks between you and Bucky, trying to assess the situation.

“Everything okay?” he asks and you nod.

“I just…” you try to find the words, but you can’t bring yourself to use them.  “I had to go, and I didn’t want Bucky to be alone.”  You don’t give either man time to react, brushing out the door and hurrying away as fast as you can.  

You make it back to your room, locking the door behind you and pulling your covers over you.  You close your eyes and concentrate on breathing, counting the seconds as you inhale and exhale.  

Slowly, too slowly for your liking, you feel yourself calm down.  But you don’t come out from your room for several hours, staring up at the ceiling and keeping your mind as blank as possible.  You lose track of time.

The soft knock at the door focuses you.  You recognize it, you’ve committed the exact pattern that he uses to memory.  You rise and cross the room, unlocking the door before pulling it open.  

Bucky’s standing there, looking utterly embarrassed.  His eyes widen slightly when he realizes the door is open, his tongue darting out of his mouth to wet his lips.

“I…I didn’t think you would open the door,” he says.

“I’m so sorry, Bucky,” you say and he shakes his head, confused.

“What?” he asks.  “What do you have to be sorry for?  Earlier, that was all me.  I completely understand.“

“You don’t,” you say quietly.  “I haven’t told you about that yet.”

“About what, doll?” he asks gently, and your heart floods with warmth for him.  Here’s someone fighting decades of brainwashing, on his worst day, attempting to comfort you.

“Come in,” you say and he does, albeit reluctantly.  You close the door behind the two of you and take a deep breath.  “I don’t want you to think that my reaction had anything to do with your past, or that I was afraid of you.  So I’m going to tell you something about me.”

“You don’t have to,” Bucky says immediately.  “Doll, whatever you have to say-”

“My last boyfriend,” you say.  “He was…”  You look to Bucky and you see the understanding in his eyes.  “It wasn’t good.  And I stayed for a long time.  Too long.  And so that’s what that was.  Some type of…PTSD, or something.  I thought…I thought I was making progress.  So that’s why I reacted the way I did, that’s why I don’t date.”


“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” you say, fighting to keep your voice from cracking.  “I didn’t want you to think that I was weak or stupid or-”

“Stop,” Bucky says.  “I don’t, won’t, couldn’t ever think that.”  He reaches forward, tentatively taking your hand in his.  He looks to you for permission and you nod.

“Why not?” you whisper.

“Someone,” Bucky says.  “Someone very smart, they once told me that the past shouldn’t define you.  It doesn’t dictate your future and it doesn’t change my opinion of you.  That is definitely someone you should listen to.”  

You smile, despite the tears in your eyes and you allow yourself to lean forward, wrapping your arms around Bucky.  You feel his arms wrap around you and for the first time since the morning, you feel completely calm.

“I love you, Bucky,” you say, your voice muffled by his chest.

“I love you too, (Y/N),” he murmurs back.  “No matter what.”

Just a little spill

Author: really-meg

Pairing: Reader X Dylan

Warning: Swearing, alcohol

Word Count: 1,308

Synopsis:  You’re at a mets game when someone spills beer on you and you don’t realize it Dylan O’Brien. He offers to buy you a new jersey to replace yours and you realize he’s dylan obrien until later on.

A/N: So I got the idea from someone I know who this happened to them except all the hot famous hot guy with crazy fans but still it was really fun writing this, I’m not a huge fan of watching baseball so I hope everything makes sense since I was writing from experience of playing softball for years. I’m also so bad at writing blurbs about my writings because I want to say what happens but I also want to have some things you have to read to find out but hopefully I’ll get better. Also would you guys rather me write in first person or second person?

They were down one, last inning, bases loaded, two strikes. Your knee bounced in anticipation as Wright got into his place at home. If he struck out the game would be over and they would lose to the Dodgers. You absently starting biting your nails before Kershaw wound up flying the ball at Wright. You watched him swing the bat before hitting it causing it to fly all the way through the outfield into the stands. You jumped up screaming at the top of your lungs just like every other mets fan in the stadium. Your favorite team had won its first game of the season and you couldn’t’ve been happier to experience it in person. Suddenly you felt something cold splash over you and you gasped as your hair stuck to you face dripping down soaking your shirt with beer.

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this-is-jamesrbarnes-deactivate  asked:



  • Borky sometimes drives Sam mad. Sam loves him anyway.

  • Borky is a rescue and helped cheer up Sam immensly after Riley. He likes to traipse around and chew up Sam’s newspaper in the morning. He also likes planting himself in Sam’s lap and looking up at him, nudging him to cuddle because Sam looks sad.

  • Stebe was sick when Natasha got him. She nursed him back to health, and her mind right along with it. She can’t count the times he startled her into a laugh when he did another dumb but endearing thing.

  • His name is Stebe because Natasha’s handwriting leaves something to be desired sometimes. She calls him Idiot most often anyway.

  • Borky was quiet when Sam got him. But loyal and always up for snuggles. Sam would be tempted to call it touch-starved.

  • When they met Nat and Idiot (Sam only realized way later his name was actually Stebe, originally intended to be Steve.) for the first time, the two dogs sniffed at each other and quickly played and roughhoused together like long lost friends.

  • Borky shied away from the leash at first and Sam had to do some coaxing. Traffic in New York is just too dangerous. Still, the leash is off most of the time.

  • Clint looks after Stebe when Natasha is Away. He’s a bit of a disaster, Stebe has to admit to himself as he licks at another bandage.

  • Sam laughed himself sick when Borky got into the freshly ground pepper and proceeded to sneeze for the next five minutes.

  • Borky has a red ball since forever. It’s chewed to hell and back and lets out these high whistles when he bites into it. He loves it.

  • He also has a blanket that Must Be Brought To The Park. Sam ties it around his neck like a cape. Nobody else is allowed to touch it but Borky, Sam, and now Stebe. Borky likes to whine about it when Stebe drops down on him when he’s trying to sleep on the blanket but he secretly likes it.

  • One time Nat tried to legally marry them. The dogs were ecstatic at the cake and jumped right into it. The guests were less amused.

(in reference to this post)


I wrote a thing! Trying to experiment a little with this whole “present tense” style. It completely changes how I write, but it seemed to suit this particular story, which follows Hamilton from St. Croix to New York to Valley Forge.

Also, also, also– I actually bothered to figure out how to work tumblr! I’ve gathered all my fic together here and all my art here and there should now be links to both tags on my main blog page.

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I Made A Vow To Carry You Home

I started writing this a while ago, and of course now it doesn’t fit into what we know so far about the Underworld at all (lol the perils of sneak peeks), but it took hold of me anyway, so here it is! Basically your standard Emma saves Killian, but with a twist of course ;) Title from So Here We Are by Bloc Party.

Many thanks to emlovesyouu from ff for her tireless help! This story is a million times better because of her.

Find it on ao3 or ff! Word count: 6061

The Underworld is nothing like Emma expected.

She’s not entirely sure what she did expect – she’s only recently begun to accept that fairytale characters exist, after all – but it’s not this. After all, the Underworld is just like Storybrooke. Same clocktower, same library, same Granny’s.

Same people, too.

Life continues as it always has in the sleepy town, with everyone she’s ever loved who has died (so basically everyone except her parents and Henry) carrying on as if nothing ever happened. Graham wears his sheriff’s badge on his hip and smiles that kind smile whenever he sees her, and she aches because he’ll be here forever, because she could have loved him but never had the chance to, because she’s not here for him. Neal takes care of Henry and hugs her every time she picks him up at the end of the day, and she feels only a slight twinge in her chest because he died a hero, because at least he came into Henry’s life again, because he seems at peace here.

But Killian. Killian, who wears his pirate leathers here, who swaggers down the street threatening townspeople and flirting with every woman he passes, who brandishes his hook around like the weapon it hasn’t been in months.

Killian, who doesn’t recognize Emma at all.

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Shadowhunters Spoiler Saturday #5

Ships in Shadowhunters

As always with my SSS posts,  HERE BE MAJOR SPOILERS!

The spoilers in this post come straight from different drafts of Shadowhunters scripts.


The ground rules are:

1.) Don’t you dare spoil someone who has specifically told you not to spoil it for them.


3.) Unless someone has given you express permission to spoil this for them, DO NOT SPOIL IT!


5.) Respect other people’s opinions. This is mostly for fan sites to know what to look forward to. This is not a post to bash the writers on. I believe they are treating the source material very fairly, and so I don’t accept hate here. You want to complain, go somewhere else and don’t tag either myself or ShadowhunterChat in your hate mail. They are your opinions, and you have a right to them of course. But don’t think that you having an opinion is more important than other people’s self-confidence, opinions, beliefs, etc. TREAT EACH OTHER RESPECTFULLY! And that not only goes for each other in this fandom. Treat the writers, directors, actors, author, every single person in Shadowhunters with the utmost respect. They don’t owe us anything, and none of them had to bring this series back after the movie flopped. Keep that in mind when you are whining over the tiny details that didn’t make it into the show.


That is all. Continue at your own risk.

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Jessica Jones enlists the help of the familiar-looking Detective Alec Hardy in a case that takes a dark turn.

pre-Alias comics & Jessica Jones/post Broadchurch 2

Rating: M (strong language, violence, and adult themes)


Issue III: Past

Hardy and Jessica’s first stop was Howie’s current place of work - a home and garden store.  Elizabeth told them that he had said they extended his shift until after closing, but she suspected it was a lie.  

The pair of them looked glaringly out of place in the midst of ornate stone fountains and flashy potted plants, him in his slightly crumpled suit and her in the same jacket and jeans she’d been wearing when they met.  She tucked her sunglasses into the front of her shirt as they stepped up to the customer service counter.  The staff room door was just behind the desk which was currently manned by a red-headed woman with an unnaturally cheerful smile.  Jessica braced herself for the interaction; Hardy stood next to her, but a step behind.

“Hello there!  What can I do for you folks today?” the woman said.  

Oh, God.

“Hi-” Jessica replied in an uncharacteristically bubbly voice.

She glanced down at the woman’s name tag.

“Sandra.  We have been looking everywhere for a ficus and just can’t seem to find one,” she added with a mock embarrassed laugh.  

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