i laughed until tears came out of my eyes at this moment

throne-of-ashes-and-beauty  asked:

Manorian, pregnancy/angst. Still-born witchling. She completely shuts Dorian out, only speaking to Asterin, even though she urges her to let him in. Break me. I need it.

As you wish, BFF.


“Manon?”

Dorian had come to her door like clockwork. Every day for the last week, he had gone the moment he woke up, right at noon, just when the sun was beginning to sink behind the horizon, and at midnight. It wasn’t like he had been sleeping well, considering. Sometimes he just sat outsider her door to make sure she was still there.

Manon hadn’t gotten out of bed. She wouldn’t talk to anyone, except for Asterin. Dorian thought that he would be the one she’d go to, that she would cry on his shoulder. But, she didn’t.

It was making the situation worse for him, though. He needed her. He needed her presence, he needed to feel her, see her, love her.

Asterin would come out every now and then, to either gather something that Manon needed or to give Dorian updates.

Typically, they were not what Dorian wanted to hear.

She’ll be okay, she would say, eventually. Give her time.

He didn’t have time, though. Or, maybe he had it, and he was just too broken to give it to her.

“Manon,” Asterin’s soft voice came from her doorway. “Dorian’s –“

“No,” she answered, shortly.

Asterin didn’t say anymore as she closed the door behind her. She simply wandered over to Manon’s bed, laid down next to her, and took her hand.

“You should talk to him,” Asterin whispered, after a moment of comfortable silence. “He’s hurting too, Manon.”

“I don’t want to talk to him,” she said, emotionless.

“Why?”

“Because he doesn’t understand,” Manon shook her head, emptily. “You do. You sit here with me in silence, loving me, comforting me, because you understand. Dorian will have questions. Dorian will have pain to let out. I can’t…..I don’t want to hear it. I can’t. Not right now.”

“I do understand,” Asterin agreed, turning toward her friend. “I also know that if I could have had him with me during then, I would have.”

Manon didn’t need to hear her say who he was, she already knew. The Hunter.

“It’s okay to let out emotion, Manon,” Asterin smiled, wistfully. “It’s okay to scream. It’s okay to cry. It’s even okay to smile, and it’s okay to begin your path to peace. What happened was horrible, and I would never wish it upon even my greatest of enemies. Unfortunately, as you know, this life is often unfair. Tragedies happen, but we must lean upon those who love us in order to heal.”

“I love you,” Manon replied, quickly, snappily. “Can’t that be enough for right now?”

“I won’t push you to do anything you’re not ready for,” Asterin agreed, for her sake. “I’m only stating what is true.”

“I’m ready for a nap.”

And that was it. Asterin stood by her word, as she always did. She wouldn’t push Manon, because she knew that wouldn’t help. She knew Manon better than anyone, and she knew what Manon needed, but she also knew what Manon needed to hear.

Asterin shut Manon’s bedroom door softly behind her. Dorian was sitting in the hallway, as he often did in the recent days, his back leaning against the wall. Asterin had never seen the young King so distressed, for he had black circles under his eyes, a beard beginning to form, and it looked as if he hadn’t bathed in days.

His blue eyes shot to the witch, but one look from her timid smile told him all he needed to know. “Let me guess, she doesn’t want to talk to me?”

“Give her –“

“Time. Yeah, yeah. I know.”

Asterin sat next to her closest friend’s husband, and just as she did for Manon, she took Dorian’s hand in hers. “I know what you’re going through.”

Dorian didn’t act surprised. Manon must have told him the story before.

“I’m glad she has you,” Dorian said, instead. “Especially now. I don’t want you thinking that I’m ungrateful for the love and support you’ve shown her.”

“I know,” Asterin smiled, squeezing his hand, once. “I think she’s getting there, Dorian. I really do. Losing a child –“

As soon as she said the words, Dorian’s face fell. Biting his bottom lip, he shook his head. “I can’t imagine what it’s like. I feel pain, I feel an ache in my chest that can never be filled, but….I wasn’t carrying it.” He scoffed. “It. We’ll never even know if it was going to be a boy or a girl.”

“What did you want?”

Dorian was silent for a moment as Asterin watched him, then he glanced at her. “It never mattered to me. I would have loved either the same. If it was a girl, I would have wanted her to be just like Manon.”

“And, if it was a boy?”

Dorian laughed, and this time, there was no malice. “I would have wanted him to be just like Manon, too.”

“You love her.”

“Yes,” Dorian breathed. “More than I ever thought possible.” He rose to his feet, and held out a helping hand, which Asterin graciously took. “So, I will give her time. Until then….”

“You will have me to speak to,” Asterin offered.

Sapphire eyes teared up as Dorian looked away, and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Let me know when you want to punch something,” Asterin called after him once he had begun to walk away. “Or scream. Or cry.”

He nodded, politely, before shutting the guestroom door.

Asterin stood in the hallway, in the middle of two broken souls. She could hear Manon thrashing in her sleep behind one door, and Dorian quietly sobbing behind the other.

A sampling of some of the many, many universes in which Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki didn’t somehow manage to avoid each other for TEN+ YEARS and are already happily married (Inspired in part by the musings of @kiaronna and @pearlo on this topic from this post):

  • In 2010, Viktor is leaving an Olympic after party because it has just more or less dissolved into an orgy and that’s not Really his scene. In this universe, he decides not to go back to his room and instead finds his way to an outdoor seating area, which is not very heavily utilized given the fact that it’s February. There is only one other person out there–an athlete with his back turned, curled up onto a bench. The lettering on his jacket says Japan.
    “Mind if I join?” he asks, and the other man turns to reveal dark hair and the deepest eyes Viktor has ever seen.
    “Oh,” he squeaks. “No. Go ahead.”
    They sit, and talk, and three hours later exchange phone numbers. Instead of going to America to train, Yuuri Katsuki goes to Russia to train under Yakov Feltsman. He takes National gold in 2011 and marries Viktor in 2012.
  • Phichit accidentally posts a video of Yuuri doing a bit of Viktor’s 2013 free skate to Instagram, instead of the hamster video he meant to post. The video makes its way through the figure skating grapevine until, obviously, reaching Viktor. Viktor immediately DM’s Phichit, begging to know who the man in the video is.
    Yuuri wakes up to six missed calls, 609 Instagram notifications, 49 texts and a DM from Viktor Nikiforov.
    “I WAS ASLEEP FOR AN HOUR,” he shrieks.
    Phichit takes complete credit for their marriage in his speech at their wedding less than a year later.
  • Through the careful and judicious saving of money for several years, and because in at least one timeline the main waterline in the onsen and the transmission on the family car don’t go kaput in the same year, Yuuri’s family is able to send him to one of Yakov Feltsman’s ice skating boot camps when he is fourteen years old.
    Viktor is there, all shining hair and huge smile and new celebrity. He has just placed at the Turin Olympics and is on his way to becoming a Russian household name, and Yuuri has been in love with him for two years already.
    “Yuuri!” Viktor coos across the ice, over the heads of the fifteen other skaters in the bootcamp. “Keep your hips even! It won’t make it so hard to turn into your Axel!”
    “Yuuri! Don’t hunch your shoulders on the spread eagle!”
    “Yuuri! Your thigh should be parallel to the ice on that sitspin!”
    “He’s incredibly skilled for his age,” Lilia tells Yakov in the back of the rink one day. “And Vitya has been behaving remarkably well, since he came here.” She fixes her eyes on Yakov, deep and determined. “He’ll be old enough to make his senior debut next year. If we groom him through his last year of juniors, he could bronze in his first GPF, or better. I want him, Yasha.”
    Yakov Feltsman is not in the habit of denying his wife those few things she asks of him.
    Yuuri Katsuki returns home after that bootcamp to pack his things and collect his dog and hug his parents goodbye.
    “I’ll take good care of him, Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki,” Viktor assures from a Skype call. “He’ll be getting the best training in the world. I even have a poodle, so Vicchan won’t be lonely during the day!”
    Hiroko and Toshiya just smile knowingly.
    Yuuri Katsuki is newly fifteen when he moves to Russia and begins sharing a condo with Viktor Nikiforov. He is sixteen when he wins his first GPF silver, and eighteen when the Vancouver Olympics roll around and he stands below his best friend on the podium and accepts silver for Japan as Viktor accepts gold.
    He is nineteen when, after five years of glances and touches and shared secrets and tears and laughter, Viktor pulls him into bed.
    “About time,” is the general consensus to that.
    They have only been dating, dating-dating, for five months when Viktor asks him to marry him.
    “I know it’s quick,” Viktor says, “but I feel like–I feel like we’ve known each other all our lives, anywa, so what’s the point in waiting?”
    Yuuri, of course, feels the same way.
  • Viktor makes a split-second decision to touch up his make-up before a press conference at the Trophee de France 2011, and as he’s patting the sweat marks off his temples hears the definite sound of someone crying.
    “Um,” he announces to the otherwise silence bathroom. “Are you okay?”
    “Yeah!” comes the answer, shrill. “I’m totally fine!”
    “You don’t sound fine,” Viktor says, and ducks his head to see which stall has feet under it. In the last stall, he sees a pair of badly-abused sneakers. He straightens up and knocks on the door. “I’ll leave you alone if you want me to, but I can–if you want, I can show you a better place to cry. Than here.”
    It takes a moment, but the door opens. The man in front of him has watery eyes and puffy red cheeks and Viktor isn’t sure he has ever found someone so beautiful.
    “Okay,” he whispers, and Viktor leads him onto the roof where instead of crying, he stares out over the skyline and tells Viktor about his home town.
    Viktor never does discover why Yuuri was crying, but he does get his phone number–and he does visit his hometown with him, a year later, to tell Yuuri’s family that they’ve decided to get married.
  • Yuuri is somehow convinced by Phichit to go out with a group after Skate America in 2013–Phichit is in his element, leading people around the city with expansive gestures and the effortless social confidence Yuuri has come to know of his best friend. 
    “You’re from this city too, aren’t you?” asks someone at Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri turns from Phichit’s monologue to see Viktor Nikiforov of all people. Yuuri, distantly in the back of his mind, realizes that he didn’t see Viktor before because he is wearing a hat, scarf, and enormous sunglasses.
    “Um, not from here,” Yuuri says, trying not to squeak, “but I–we both live here, Phichit and I.”
    “But you know the city,” Viktor says, “so that means you would know a place where I can get the most disgustingly greasy food imaginable and you and I can go there and my coach never needs to know?”
    “Yes,” Yuuri says immediately, because he may be timid around most people, and especially around his idol, but he has more than enough sense to realize that His Time Has Come. “I can absolutely do that.”
    Yuuri takes Viktor to American Coney Island, where they eat loose burgers and chili fries and drink diet coke, which is the only cession to their diets.
    “Oh Yuuri,” Viktor laughs at the end of the night, a speck of chili cheese still at the corner of his mouth, “I could fall in love with a man like you.”
    And he does.
  • Celestino wins a radio lottery and receives tickets to Champions on Ice in Las Vegas–he decides to take Yuuri and a rinkmate. Yuuri’s rinkmate is nice, but he doesn’t know her very well, and he’s several years younger. She also has friends in Nevada who she wants to meet up with, and Yuuri doesn’t know anybody in the state for obvious reasons. On the first day they are there, Yuuri’s rinkmate disappears with her friends and Celestino takes his wife and goes exploring on the strip. Yuuri stays in his room and plays Pokemon and Skypes his mother.
    On the second day, Yuuri goes shopping for souvenirs for Yuuko and his family, and stares far too long at the billboard of Viktor Nikiforov’s face that is advertising the ice show. That night, he debates which of the three posters he brought with him he should bring to have Viktor sign, before deciding on none–the odds that he will meet Viktor Nikiforov tonight are practically not any higher than they were when the were on opposite sides of the world, and Celestino won’t want to wait in the long autograph lines.
    “Don’t you want an autograph, Yuuri?” Celestino asks after the show, and Yuuri thinks it’s nice of him even though they both know that the polite thing to do is say no.
    “No,” Yuuri says, staring at the long line, and continues out of the building. 
    They branch off then–Celestino has dinner plans with his wife, and Yuuri’s rinkmate is meeting back up with her friends for some clubbing.
    Yuuri is walking back to the hotel when he bumps headlong into somebody’s solid chest.
    “Oh, sorry,” they say, and steady him with hands on his shoulders. Yuuri looks up and finds the same icey blue eyes frm that billboard yesterday staring back at him.
    “Oh,” Yuuri whispers, wide-eyed. “You’re–”
    “Shhh,” whispers Viktor Nikiforov, pressing a finger to his own lips. “Don’t give it away, I’m hiding. 
    “VITYA,” someone from the alley leading back towards the ice center screams.
    “Come on,” Viktor laughs, and tugs Yuuri away by the hand. 
    It’s the spring before Viktor will cut his hair, and it flies out behind him in a magnificent cascade as they run.
    They find their way into a club, where Viktor buys them drinks and laughs and laughs no matter what Yuuri is saying, and then drags him out onto the dance floor. Yuuri has not yet met Phichit Chulanont, who will drag him to pole dancing classes and teach him how to move his hips like a weapon, but he and Viktor get by in the crush of bodies, pushing against each other.
    “I think I love you,” Viktor breaths against his neck, and they’re both three sheets to the wind, but Viktor is Russian and Yuuri is a college student and their tolerance is astronomical. They aren’t even stumbling. “I know we only just met, but I think I love you.”
    “Then let’s get married,” Yuuri blurts before he can help it, and Viktor beams.
    “Yes!” he cries. “Yes, let’s do that!”
    It isn’t hard to find a place that will marry them–even though Viktor’s signature on the certificate looks more like a drawing of a tree, and even though Yuuri’s tie ends up around his forehead halfway through the ceremony.
    In the morning, Yuuri wakes up with the worst hangover of his life, fully-clothed next to Viktor Nikiforov, and says, “We can–this happens all the time, we can have it annulled.”
    Viktor stares down at the ring on his finger, tangled hair all over one shoulder. Yuuri realizes that he doesn’t even rememer where the rings came from. How much did they cost? 
    “I would rather not, if that’s okay,” Viktor murmurs, and so they don’t.
    Yuuri carries out the rest of the year in Detroit, wearing the ring around his neck on a chain and thinking about his husband, half a world away, waiting for him.
You Who... [M] (ft. Jeongguk)

Drabble Game Prompt 96. “Here, let me.” with badboy/jock!jeongguk

→ badboy football jk (warning: overstimulation, cumplay, fluff, and fuckingjeonjungkook)
→ 1.4k words prequel part 01 | 02

A/N: i have no idea where this came from, my hand sort of slipped, jfc what have i done 

UPDATE: added the highly-requested prequel as a thank you for 1k+ notes :) make sure to check out Give and Take! It’s a similar AU to this one! 


“There you go, yes, you can do it babe,” Jeongguk encourages, as you bite down on your lip.  

He grins up at you as you move your hips slowly against his, finding the way you squeeze your eyes shut tightly the cutest thing ever. 

“J-jeongguk I-I can’t–” you stutter, arms clutching at his bare shoulders as your movements stutter and begin to slow down. But you whimper instead at the loss of friction between your legs and begin to cry tears of frustration as you don’t know whether to continue grinding against him and chase after another orgasm or to stop completely. 

He just laughs huskily from beneath you, and wipes a tear from your cheek and presses a quick peck to your chin as you make up your mind and your movements continue. His head dips down to press open-mouthed kisses against your collarbone, painting the skin there in blossoms of red and pink. “Shh,” he grates against your neck, a gentle hand coming up to stroke down your spine and settling on the curve of your hip to firmly help guide you up and down his cock. “you got this.” 

He’s in awe as he watches you desperately move against him, your soft breasts and nipples brushing up against his hard chest and melting him on the spot. It’s been years since he’s met you and only a few months since the both of you finally started having sex, but he’s secretly delighted at how sensitive you are and how desperate you are to pleasure the both of you. He wants to spread you out and fuck you with his fingers and tongue and make you cum over and over until you’re screaming hoarsely or tie you down onto the bed and tease you for hours until you’re begging for him, but he smiles as he relishes in actually convincing you to top him for once. 

Cause this time he’s being a little selfish and pushing the boundaries on how far he can take you because he’s currently coaxing your through your third orgasm and is harder than he’s ever been in his life as he watches you in tears because you’re desperate to reach the peak once again. 

You muffle your cries in in his neck and thread your fingers in his hair as you feel the wave approaching again. “Jeongguk, ‘m gonna come,” you murmur breathlessly, making his dick clench at how fucking submissive you sound to him right now. He whispers sooth encouragements into your ear and moves his hips up to meet yours just right and grazes the spot inside of you that has you cringing and sighing into his neck as he grunts when you clamp down on him and bite gently into his shoulder to muffle your cries. 

The orgasm is stronger than the last two he brought you to with his fingers and his mouth, respectively, as the feeling of his skin beneath your fingertips and the sheer rawness of his length brushing your walls makes you clamp down on his girth harder than you’ve ever come before. You cry out and clench your teeth and you’re going through your third intense wave of your orgasm when suddenly he flips the both of you over and pins your hips to his bed and begins to pound into you desperately.

His voice is strained and his hairline slick with sweat as he props himself up above you and glares determinedly into your face thats scrunched up in pleasure, moving his hips against you until he reaches his own peak. You feel his dick twitch once before he’s letting out a loud groan and a strangled cry of your name before his chest pulses for a moment and then he slumps down onto you. 

The both of you are spent and you’re still crying from the overwhelming feeling of being coaxed through three orgasms, with the third being the most intense you’ve ever felt in your life, and your chest heaves from the effort it took. Jeongguk is no better, as he pulls out of you with a groan and kneels between your legs. 

Taking advantage of your slumped and exhausted state, he pushes up a thigh and leans down a bit to see how his cum leaks out of your slit and grasps his cock that hasn’t softened yet with a groan. He gently holds the base of his sensitive member and collects the cum that’s already oozed out onto your thigh with his tip before pushing it back into you. 

You let out a strangled cry, a hand coming up to your mouth so you can muffle your cries, and another desperately clutching onto the wrist holding onto your thigh. He pauses, glancing up at your expression and waiting for you to push him away, but a slight movement of your wrist draws your thigh higher up and his hips a bit closer to you. Grinning, he grasps his softening cock once again and drags his tip from your upper thigh back into your slit, massaging his own cum into your center. 

When he’s completely limp and cringing himself from the overstimulation of pushing himself back into your pussy, he drops your thigh and climbs back up, whispering sweet things into your ear. 

“Baby, you were so good,” he coos, smoothing back your hair and wiping leftover tears. “You deserved that, you were so hot. Here, let me,” he gets a warm towel from the restroom and wipes down your thighs and core before dressing you in his t-shirt (a sight which he’ll never admit he absolutely loves) and pulling on a pair of boxers before climbing into bed with you and pulling you into his chest.

“I loved it.” 

You hiccup, breath short from the sensitivity but also from your tears. “You did?” 

And he thinks its the damned cutest thing ever, how even if you were an innocent girl he’d never thought he’d date, you suddenly turned into a sex starved shyer version of yourself because of him, and then returned back to the sweet blushing one he’d fallen in love with even after hours of rough sex and the dirtiest things. It absolutely fucking thrills him and makes his dick so hard whenever he brings you to too many orgasms, when you reach the point where you dont know whether to stop or continue, or to cry or kiss him. He’s had his fair share of flings and sexcapades, but he knows that the only girl who’s ever made him so whipped, the only girl who’s gotten Jeon Jeongguk wrapped around her tiny little finger, is you. 

You who he began to tease and flirt with as a joke, but ended up falling so damn hard for you after just a partner project where you ended up sympathizing with him and treating him like a real fucking human being, and not the football athlete that everyone worshipped and expected so much out of. You who always looked at him, past his body and face and extracurriculars, and into his soul and really truly understood who he was at the core. You who drunkenly kissed him one night underneath the stars and you who’s cheeks went furiously red when he kissed you again in front of the entire school. You who weren’t afraid of telling him when he was being too cocky or just a dick, and made sure to keep him in check, to the point that his teammates were commenting on what a kind softie he was becoming. 

And finally, you who he found himself hopelessly irrevocably in love with. 

And he looks down at you, with your bare face that’s not really anything special. Eyes, nose, and lips that are average, hair that’s common, and a body that others will say they’ve seen better. But its the way you look at him with your eyes that makes him love you. The way you press your nose against his neck when you cuddle with him and the way you shyly move your soft lips against him when you kiss him goodbye. It’s the way your hair feels like absolute silk underneath his fingers when he runs his hands through them when you’re asleep, and the way your entire body literally lights up and bends at his will and his only

Those are the things, amongst many, that made the high and mighty bad boy Jeon Jeongguk fall in love with you. 

So he cups your face and smiles as he pecks against your lips, peppering your face with them until you giggle and shriek against his attack. Laughing, he draws you close. 

“I did, because I fucking love you.”


Prequel: 01 & 02 [fin], Give and Take[M]

Duo - Peter Parker

request -  okay so y/n is part of the avengers (she’s peter’s age) & peter does something that practically kills him. y/n freaks out & goes to hold him while the rest of the avengers just watch her in pity. they take peter & tell y/n to go cool down. and then when peter wakes up, he is sternly told by tony to go see y/n before she goes crazy. sorry this is long & specific ❤️ love your writing btw!! one of my favorite blogs

a/n - i had went back and forth with a lot of ideas on this fic, and i really hope it doesn’t seem rushed and i hope it turned out okay and not a flop like me :( but don’t forget to request a peter parker/spider-man fic if you want and follow!

Another building came down to the ground as another crowd ran from the scene, only being able to hear their own screams as the enemy came to terrorize New York. It was only another work of Hydra, trying to come and ruin the lifestyle that so many people have made here. It was fight, after fight, after fight, after fight, and I didn’t know if I could take it anymore.

Peter and I, both natives of Queens, and also the youngest on the team. When Peter and I had first arrived to Headquarters, Captain didn’t hesitate to warn us that most enemies target the younger party the most, and that the rest of the team would prioritize the safety of Peter and I before their own.

Today’s situation seemed to be a bit more difficult than the others, from when I looked up and saw Tony struggling to keep another part of a building from falling to when I saw Natasha almost beaten by one of Hydra’s minions. Something about today was just a bit, off.

“(Y/N)!” I heard Rogers call. I turned around to see his shield coming my way, gripping it tightly and slamming it into the bodies of Hydra’s concoctions. They were out within a second, having me throw the shield back to Rogers. He then ran off with Clint, leaving myself and Wanda to deal with the others.

“Where’s Parker?” Natasha spoke into the intercom. My heart dropped as I looked up and tried to find the boy, hoping to see a spot of red and blue anywhere. I turned around as my last hope, calming down when I saw him swinging from one building to the other, coming closer to the scene.

“Southside on 54th, coming right this way.” I said.

Keep reading

KURO WEEK - DAY 5: Nightmares

Eeeh… so this is kinda long. But I loved writing it. Also: it’s from Shiro’s POV. So… have this:


Monsters don’t have nightmares…


It took everything in him not to scream. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Wouldn’t let them know how afraid he really was.

No…

He had survived this once… He would do it again. Because now he knew how the cruel machinery of the arena worked, relentless and precise like clockwork. He knew what the Druids would do to him. He knew the rules.

Stick to the rules and survive.

And rule number one was to never show your fear.

Shiro could do this, he would survive and find his way back home. Home… wherever that was. A small, fragile smile crept onto his face. Of course he knew where home was. It was somewhere among the stars… Sitting in a giant robot lion and hunting every single Galra cruiser down in order to find him. He would survive this… for now there was Keith, burning with the force of a thousand suns, fiery red and blazing with anger. He had seen glimpses of what the Red Paladin was capable of… This man would tear the universe apart and burn the whole Empire to ashes, if that’s what it took to get Shiro back.

For now he would stick to the rules and buy his friends as much time as possible to come and find him. Him and-

Movement from the shadows caught his attention, followed by a soft sob. If it hadn’t been so eerily quiet in their cell, he might’ve missed it. Shiro froze at the sound, eyes trained on the the figure that laid curled up on one of the cots.


The first time he’d seen him, Shiro had actually lost it. He still had no idea where he came from – it didn’t really matter anyway. Because he was there nonetheless. He existed. He breathed. There was a soul in his yellow eyes, when he gave Shiro that look. That look of utter betrayal, like he’d hoped for something more, something that was definitely not a beaten and bruised Shiro.

He couldn’t really remember when or how the guards had maneuvered him into the same cell he occupied. At some point he’d simply checked out, mind going blank and numb, because it was all too much.

The Druids had taken his arm, stripped him off any right he thought he had, put him through fights against aliens twice his size… but THIS. This had been the last straw.

It was the day he met his clone, that Shiro actually cried for the first time in ages. He cried for himself. It was the same day he realized, that this would never end. They’d always find a way to break him, to bend and twist him, until his mind turned into something ugly. The evidence, the actual personification of their madness driven efforts, sat right in front of him and stared at him with piercing yellow eyes.


He had no idea how long they’d stayed like this. Huddled against opposite walls of the same cell and staring off into nothingness, until one of them had started talking. It had been awkward, looking at his own face and listening to his own voice, somewhat sounding off. More guttural. Some words even sounded a little…purred? It was almost off-putting to see his own face staring back at him and moving with expressions that weren’t his. It felt like watching yourself in a mirror, but your reflection suddenly stops moving along with you. Familiar features turned into something otherworldly, because someone else controlled them and poured their very soul into every twitch and pull of muscle.

They’d created a whole new being. The clone might’ve looked like Shiro, but under their shared features, there was a different person. Individual. Original. And so, so human. He even had a name.

Kuro.

How fitting, Shiro had thought at first. But he’d come to realize quite fast, that Kuro wasn’t the dark, evil minded counterpart he’d expected to hide behind that name.

In fact, the more they talked, the more Shiro got the impression, that their Galra-hybrid was more human than most people Shiro had met back on earth.

He had suffered. He had seen horrible things, survived even worse. He’d been ripped open and put back together, just to be torn apart again. Some days he would find the strengh to laugh at all of this… And some days he would break under the pressure and fear. Like any human being would do.

Days had passed. It was easy - too easy - to believe that Kuro was anything but a monster. Especially so, after he’d been carried back into their cell, right after one particular hard fight. Kuro had won, of course… But was the damage his body and mind had taken really worth it?

Seeing him like this morphed repulsion and mistrust first into pity, then into something else. Something Shiro didn’t really want to think about. It felt way too close to compassion.

He couldn’t let that happen.

Stick to the rules and survive.

And sticking to the rules meant no sympathy for Galra-clones.


In the end the universe wouldn’t have any of it.


Another sob brought him back to reality. It tore through the silence that hung between them. As far as he could tell, Kuro was still asleep on his small cot, but he thrashed wildly against invisible enemies and restraints. Maybe he relived his latest fight? His latest torture? Tears glistened in the dim purple lights.

In this moment he looked almost completely human… Vulnerable and scared and just so much younger.

Shiros throat went dry. Kuro wasn’t a monster… never had been… And that tore at his heart.

Despite what the Druids wanted him to be, Kuro was anything but a monster.

Without thinking, Shiro stood up from where he sat, back against the wall, and silently made his way towards the clone. Said clone was a mess; twitching and and clawing at the nightmares that plagued him.

Another whimper. Small and heartbreaking. He couldn’t take it.

Shiro couldn’t stop himself from reaching out, trying to soothe Kuro with a warm hand on his shoulder. But it wasn’t enough to make the nightmares stop…

Fuck the rules.

Soon he found himself huddled up on the small cot next to the other man, arms wrapped around shaking shoulders and metal fingers stroking carefully over a tense back. There were scars on his back. So. So many… Shiro didn’t even want to know what had caused these scars. Or the nightmares.

This man was definitely no monster.


Because monsters

didn’t have nightmares…

___

I know I promised there will be a happy ending to my Kuro week… But for now… suffer with me? @kuroweek

baby fever [parenthood series #1]

 summary: Bucky wants a baby. || fluff & nsfw || [future]dad!bucky x reader ||

warnings: your heart will grow like the grinch at this sweet content, nsfw, smut, trying for a baby, fear of parenthood, [intentional] unprotected sex, mentions of prenancy, mentions of Steve/Natasha and their baby Sarah

note: I’ve been posting dad!bucky fics here and there, so I decided to make a legit series and stuff about it called ‘Parenthood.’ This series will show everyone how Bucky’s little family was started, and how they progress through milestones and all of that. Here’s the first part called ‘Baby Fever!’ 

Originally posted by thewiinterrsoldiier

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NHL!Bitty, Pt. IV - RPF

@missweber requested NHL!Bitty dealing with Hockey RPF. This got a little longer than expected, with a side pairing of Jack/philly-cheesesteak. Takes place a few months into Bitty’s second season with the Schooners. 

Origin: From Samwell to SeattlePart I - Hug Check | Part II - Chirping | Part III - Post-Season




The most annoying thing is that for all of the ‘Jack/Parse’, ‘Jack/Tater’, ‘Jack/Sid’‘Jack/fucking-every-player-on-the-east-coast’ fic, there are a whopping SIX  ‘Jack/Eric’ fics on Ao3. Six.

On one hand, Eric’s proud they’ve hidden their relationship so well, on the other, Eric is insulted. But really, with their disappointing portmanteau of ‘Jeric’ or ‘Zittle’, it’s not surprising they’re horribly under-appreciated.

“I just wish my fans were more creative.”

Over Skype, Eric watches Jack plow through a Philly cheesesteak with no small measure of jealousy. He’s lonely and hungry, and his asshole boyfriend is doing this on purpose.

“You know,” Jack says, talking out of the side of his half-full mouth, “if you let the Schoons call you ‘Bitty’ our name could have been ‘Zimbits’. That’s kinda on you.”

Keep reading

Princess of Hearts

Originally posted by lavendertitties

Pairing: Harry Hook x Reader

Word count: 2,221

A/N: this is my first descendants imagine, I hope you enjoy!!


No one dared enter the fish and chips shop after Uma returned from her failed attempt at getting revenge on Mal.  Only her and her crew went inside, hence causing business to be at an all-time low.  Not that it was usually busy, but Uma needed the money to satisfy her mother, and Harry’s petty theft was not enough to sustain them.

So when a girl in a torn up, bright red dress and white leather jacket walked into the shop, it took everyone by surprise.  All the pirates suspiciously eyed her as she entered.

It wasn’t a mystery who this girl was: (Y/N) Heart, the daughter of the Queen of Hearts, was notoriously different from her mother.  While the Queen of Hearts was tempestuous, loud, and violent, (Y/N) was a mysteriously quiet and patient girl.

“Well, well,” Harry was the first to approach her, wearing his iconic smirk. He leaned against the wall and brushed a strand of her hair out of her face with his hook. “What ‘cha doin’ here, princess?”

“Just getting some lunch, Hook,” she answered simply as she grabbed his hook, moving it away from her face.

Harry chuckled to himself as he stepped out of her way, mockingly bowing as she walked past him.  She sat down at an empty table.

Uma stormed up to Harry and grabbed his collar to whisper in his ear.

“I don’t trust her,” she muttered.

“She’s just getting some food, Uma,” Harry quietly countered her, keeping his eyes glued to (Y/N).  "There’s nothing to be suspicious of.“

“She used to be friendly with Mal,” Uma spat.  "I don’t care if she’s just here for the chips.  Keep an eye on her.“  She slammed a tray with fish and chips on it in Harry’s chest and pushed him towards (Y/N).  He approached her table and carelessly tossed the tray onto the table.  When she looked up at him, she watched as Harry turned around the chair across from her and sat down in it.

"The waiters don’t usually keep the customers company,” (Y/N) noted as she grabbed a chip.

Harry smirked.  "Do I look like a waiter to you, sweetheart?“

"You did bring me my food.”

“Touché.”

They sat in silence as (Y/N) ate her fish and chips with Harry occasionally stealing a chip.

When her meal was finished, (Y/N) nonchalantly tossed a random amount of cash on the table and stood up.  Harry immediately followed suit and shot up from his seat.

“Thanks for the food,” she sarcastically thanked with a tight smile, and she turned on her heel, exiting the shop.  Harry turned and glanced at Uma, who signaled for him to follow her.  He groaned as he went after her.

“You know, villains don’t normally use manners,” he said once he caught up with her.  He attempted to wrap his arm around her shoulder, which she immediately shrugged off.

“I’m not a villain,” she responded.  "My mother is.“

"But you’re her daughter,” Harry replied, furrowing his brows.  "Don’t you at least think you’re evil?“

"Evil?  No.” She shook her head.  "I’m unpleasant, sure, but not evil.  I’m not gonna try to fool myself like Mal did and try to convince myself that I’m evil.  I’ll do what I have to do to protect myself in this place, but that’s it.“

"Then I guess you’re on that list to get more VK’s into Auradon,” Harry snorted, rolling his eyes at the mere thought.  To his surprise, (Y/N) laughed.

“Oh god no,” she scoffed.  "Just because I’m not evil doesn’t mean I’m gonna go to the land of preppy princes and princesses.“

Harry found himself genuinely laughing at that.  Before he could utter a response, (Y/N) stopped in her tracks.

"Well, this is my place,” she announced, gesturing to the building covered in red paint.  "Thanks for walking me home.  It was very gentlemanly of you.“

She walked into her house before Harry could argue that he was definitely not a gentleman.  For a moment, he almost forgot that the only reason that he walked her home was because Uma wanted him to follow her.


The next morning, Harry found himself wandering in the general vicinity of (Y/N)’s house, waiting to "accidentally” bump into her.  His opportunity presented itself when (Y/N) stood by a fruit stand, examining the apples.

“What a coincidence,” Harry whispered into her ear as he approached her from behind, “finding you here.”

“Didn’t think this was your area, Hook,” (Y/N) quipped, not looking away from the fruit.  She didn’t bother to tell him off as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

“I’m just full of surprises, aren’t I?”

“You certainly are,” she agreed with sarcasm dripping from each word.  She filled her bag with apples, not paying attention to Harry, who had his chin resting on her shoulder and his arm wrapped around her waist.  She handed some cash to the lady behind the cart and began to walk home, Harry’s arm still resting in the same place.

“Why do you always pay for things?” he questioned.

(Y/N) shrugged.  "Because people need it,“ she answered.

"That’s not a very evil-”

“Unpleasant,” she corrected.

Harry rolled his eyes.  "Right, unpleasant.  That’s not a very unpleasant thing to do.“

"It’s not my life mission to be an unpleasant person, Hook.”

Harry stopped before (Y/N), this time, upon recognizing her house.  She lightly smirked as he unwrapped his arm from her waist.

“You know,” she leaned in to whisper in his ear, “it’s not a very unpleasant thing for you to always walk me home, too.”  She quickly kissed Harry’s cheek before dashing inside, leaving him standing outside as he fought the blush creeping into his cheeks.


Harry continued to follow (Y/N), as Uma ordered, throughout the rest of the week.  Although, for him, it felt less and less like following every day.

He was about to leave the fish and chip shop that day to begin “following” (Y/N), but before he could exit, Uma stopped him.

“Where are you going?” she inquired.

“To follow (Y/N),” he answered as if it was obvious.

“You’ve been following her for a week,” Uma said, “and you’ve found nothing suspicious.  I think it’s safe to say she’s not a threat.”

“I said that to you when she came in, but you still made me follow her,” Harry argued.

Uma rolled her eyes.  "Whatever, it’s not a concern anymore.  Go train instead, you’re gonna get out of shape if you keep spending all your time following this girl.“

Harry longingly stared at the exit for a moment before reluctantly nodding and heading towards the ship, grabbing a sword on his trek there.

He trained with Gil for a few hours before declaring that he needed a break.  When he turned around to leave the ship, he spotted (Y/N) standing by the bridge.  He smirked as he noticed her gaze scanning his shirtless figure.

"What brings you here, princess?” he asked, grabbing a towel.

She bit her lip and avoided eye contact with him.  "I-“ she stopped, choking on her own embarrassment.

"Yes?” Harry couldn’t help but allow the grin that was exponentially growing on his face.

“I came here because you weren’t by my house today,” she muttered, keeping her gaze focused on the ground.

“What was that?” he questioned as he inched closer to her.  He knew exactly what she said the first time.

“You weren’t by my house today,” she repeated a bit louder this time.

“But why did you come here?” Harry pressed, continuously moving closer to (Y/N) until her back was pressed against a wall.

“I told you-”

“But that wasn’t really why,” he interrupted her.  Her gaze was still focused on the floor, so he grabbed her chin and tilted her head up.  "Look at me, princess.“

"I like walking around with you, okay?” she finally burst.

Harry smirked.  "That’s all I needed to hear, princess.“  He began to lean in, still gripping her chin, and their lips were millimeters apart when they were interrupted.

"Harry!” Uma yelled, storming towards the ship.  Harry groaned as he moved away from (Y/N), resting an arm above her head.

“Sorry, love,” he quietly apologized before turning to Uma.  "Yes, Uma?“

"What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Taking a break from training.”

“With her?”  She angrily gestured towards (Y/N).  "I told you that you don’t have to follow her anymore!“

"Follow me?” (Y/N) echoed, stepping back from Harry.  "What does she mean, follow me?“

"Princess, I-”

“You only walked with me because Uma ordered you to keep an eye on me,” she didn’t allow Harry to explain.  "You never wanted to spend any time with me.“

"No, no, sweetheart,” Harry tried to cup her face, but she tore it away. “I-”

“All that flirting,” she spat, backing away from him.  "God, I’m so stupid, I actually thought that meant something.“

"It did, (Y/N)-” He grabbed her wrist in an attempt to prevent her from leaving.

“Congratulations, Harry Hook,” she scoffed, and Harry watched a single tear roll down her cheek.  "You are truly evil.“  She ripped her wrist out of his grasp and ran off.

He stood frozen in his spot, watching her figure fade.  When she was out of sight, he started to scream incoherently, punching the wall that he pinned (Y/N) to minutes ago.


"Come on, Harry, you haven’t trained with me for days!” Gil exclaimed after Harry rejected his offer to train for the seventh time.  "Uma’s gonna be mad if you get too far out of shape.“

"This is Uma’s fault,” Harry seethed.  "If she hadn’t ordered me to follow (Y/N), none of this would’ve happened.“

"Dude, get over her,” he waved the thought off.  "Sure, she was hot, but she was kinda lame.  I mean, she paid for her food.  Who does that?“

"Someone who’s not evil,” Harry muttered and stormed out of the shop.  He headed towards the fruit stand that he knew (Y/N) went to, the stand he went to every day since that incident at the ship, hoping that one day she’d be there.  Once he arrived and scanned the area, he learned that she, again, was not there.

“Damnit,” he mumbled under his breath.  He bided his time by perusing the selection of fruits.  By the time Harry felt like he had examined every piece of fruit at the cart, he was starting to give up hope.  He was about to leave when a voice caused him to perk up.

“Yeah, we ran out of apples this morning, so I’m just running a quick errand and grabbing them,” (Y/N) was explaining to the lady running the stand.  Hook’s eyes widened as he silently moved towards her.  

(Y/N) reached into her pocket to pay for the apples, but Harry, who stood directly behind her, beat her to it.

“Allow me, princess,” he said, handing some cash to the lady.  Both the lady and (Y/N) stared at him with confused expressions, shocked that the notorious thief Harry Hook actually paid for something.  “Come on, love, I want to talk,” Harry whispered in (Y/N)’s ear before dragging her off.

They wound up in a dark, quiet alleyway.  When Harry finally stopped walking, (Y/N) found a chance to rip her arm out of his grip. She began to run away, but Harry caught her wrist.

“Just give me a minute to explain, please,” he begged her.  Taken aback by his usage of manner, she silently obliged and stopped trying to escape.  “I messed up.”

“Yeah you did.”  It was the first time she had actually spoken to him.

“I know, I know, and I’m a total idiot,” he agreed with her, “and I’m sorry.  When you walked in the shop that first day, Uma was suspicious of you. I told her that there was nothing going on, but she insisted that I follow you.  I didn’t want to, I swear, but I had to.  And every day that I spent with you, it felt less and less like following and more and more like… like-”

“Like what?” (Y/N) questioned, subconsciously inching closer to Harry.

“It felt like we were just spending time together, you know?  Actually enjoying it.”

“That still doesn’t justify you leading me on like that just as an attempt to get information,” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“Get information?”  He stared at her quizzically.  “I didn’t flirt with you to get information.”

“Then what was it?  Am I just a game to you?  Harry Hook, the infamous flirt on the Isle, just had to have a crack at me to see if he could do it. Well congrats, you did it.  Now you can move on and go pursue some other-”

Before she could finish her ramble, Harry frustratedly grabbed her face and smashed his lips against hers.  He slowly moved forward, backing (Y/N) into the wall.

“What,” she tore away from Harry, breathing heavily, “was that?”

“You never seem to let me speak, do you, princess?”  Harry grinned before pressing his lips on (Y/N)’s once again, this time allowing her to reciprocate faster.  She knocked his hat off his head and tangled her fingers in his hair.

“I’m still mad at you,” she reminded him after she pulled away, fighting a smile.  

Harry grinned.  “No you’re not.”

married part 6- h.s imagine

you can read the previous part here

Harry smiled as he looked down at his mom on her wedding day as they were swaying back and forth on the dance floor. Anne smiled at her son but couldn’t help but notice that Harry’s eyes would glance over to his beautiful best friend sitting down at a table. She noticed whenever they caught each other’s gaze, they would blush and look away. “Harry” Anne spoke up, interrupting Harry’s staring. “Yes, mum?” Harry asked, his eyebrows quirking up. Anne smiled and placed her hand on his cheek. “Promise me that you’ll marry that girl someday.” Harry looked back over towards you. You had your hand placed over your mouth as you laughed at something his little cousin told you. Harry smiled and looked down before he looked into his mother’s eyes. “I promise.”

Growing up, you always thought having the “perfect ending” and “finding the one” was a total cliche. Whenever your friends described kissing their significant other, they would always describe the feeling of being on top of the world. You never believed that you would find someone who would be able to give you that feeling. You never believed that someone’s lips would be able to give you that much reassurance.

Until Harry kissed you.

As Harry’s lips met yours, you finally knew what everyone was talking about. Kissing Harry made you feel like you could take on the world. This kiss alone made you feel like all your worries and all your stress suddenly vanished into thin air. Kissing Harry felt right.

Slowly, you wrapped your arms around Harry’s neck as you kissed him back. You could feel Harry’s lips quirking into a smile as he kissed you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, trying to pull you closer as if he couldn’t bare to have you and further away from him.

When Harry kissed you, his best friend, he felt sparks. His lips felt like they were on fire. Never has he ever felt this way whenever he kissed Kimberly. It was in this kiss Harry knew that you were it for him. It was in this kiss did he realize just how in love with you he was.

What felt like an eternity, you finally pulled away. Both you and Harry were panting from the kiss. With closed eyes, Harry smiled as he rested his forehead against yours. A moment of silence passed between the two of you before Harry finally spoke up, “I can’t believe I waited so long to do that.”

You stepped out of Harry’s hold, wrapping your arms around yourself, suddenly feeing so ashamed. You shook your head as you whispered, “That was wrong, Harry.” As much as you loved the kiss and no matter how magical it felt, you were with Lucas and until the divorce was final, Harry was still married. You could literally see all the color from Harry’s face drain. You could see nothing but horror on his face as he backed into the wall behind him. You watched as his eyes took you in. It was like he was trying to understand the million thoughts going through your mind. You avoided eye contact with him as you stared at the ground, your eyes welling up with tears once again.

Suddenly Harry whispered, “But I love you, Y/N.”

You placed your hand over your mouth as you tried to choke back a sob that was trying to rip its way out of your body.

Harry slowly stepped closer to you. “It’s been a year since you told me you loved me, Y/N. Please, I need to hear you say it again. Please.”

When Harry was met with silence, he wiped his eyes. He looked down at his fidgeting fingers. “Do you still love me, Y/N?”

You looked up at Harry. As much as you wanted to scream out how much of an idiot he was and that of course you still loved him, you couldn’t. As much as you wanted to tell him that you don’t think you’ll ever stop loving him, you didn’t. Instead you said something you instantly regretted, “I fell in love with Lucas.”

You watched as Harry gasp for air. You watched as he placed his hand over where his heart was as if you actually broke it in pieces. You sniffed before you whispered, “I’m sorry, H.” Quickly, you walked back into the restaurant.

Harry placed his head in his hands as he dropped down to the floor. He brought his knees up to his chest as he cried the hardest he’s ever cried. Not giving a flying fuck who saw. Harry felt broken. Not only did he miss the opportunity to be with the love of his life, he lost his best friend.


You stared down at your lap as you sat in a silent uber with Lucas. Lucas was staring out of the window, not daring to say a word. He didn’t have to see Harry but he knew he was there tonight. He also knew that he was the reason why you had tear stained cheeks. Lucas glanced at you before he sighed. He took your hand in his. “Y/N? Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?”

You looked down at Lucas’s hand holding yours. You couldn’t help but think about how you felt absolutely nothing for this sweet man in front of you. You tried so hard to think about spending a future with Lucas. You thought Lucas was your chance of finally being happy. But after seeing Harry? After kissing Harry? You knew what you had to. You looked up at Lucas’s eyes filled with nothing but concern. You sighed before you whispered, “I can’t be with you anymore, Lucas.”

Lucas let go of your hand. Staring at his lap, he let out an, “Oh.” You shook your head as you inched closer to him. You placed your hand on his knee. “I can’t be the girl you need, Lucas. You’re so sweet and so caring. I don’t deserve you.”

Lucas nodded as he placed his hand on top of yours. “It’s okay, Y/N. I understand.” You leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Suddenly the car pulled in front of your apartment building. You thanked the uber driver and said a goodbye to Lucas before you got out of the car. You started to walk inside until Lucas called out your name. He had the window rolled down as he said, “I hope you get your happy ending with him one day, Y/N.”

You smiled. This boy really was something special. You knew he would make someone feel so happy one day. “I’ll see you at the wedding tomorrow.” You said before you made your way inside.


You let out a yawn as you stepped off the elevator, a tray of coffee in your hand. Whenever you closed your eyes, all you saw was Harry’s crying face. Guilt consumed your body as you thought about the lie you told Harry. You knew there was no way that you could fix it. You knew this was officially the end of an era. You sighed, hoping the makeup artist Emma hired for today will be able to conceal a broken heart. You knocked on Emma’s door before Olivia, another bridesmaid, opened the door for you. You gave her a small smile and hug before you walked into the hotel room.

Emma and Niall decided to have their wedding at one of the most beautiful hotels London had to offer, Hotel ZaZa. They both rented a room dedicated to the groomsmen to get ready and a room for the bridesmaids to get ready.

Emma’s eyes lit up as soon as she saw you. She walked over to you and gave you a hug before she grabbed the coffee tray out of your hands. “Y/N! Just in time, it’s your turn to get your makeup done.” You nodded as you sat in front of the makeup artist. The other two bridesmaids were sitting on the other side of the room getting their hair done. Emma sat down on the bed across from you. She noticed how quiet you were as the makeup artist was having at it on your face. “I saw you and Harry out on the patio last night.” Emma whispered softly. She saw the moment you pulled away from Harry after the kiss. She saw how Harry crumbled to the floor as you fled the scene. You glanced at Emma before you looked away.

“Do you want to talk about it softly?” Emma asked. You shook your head as the makeup artist was grabbing a brush. “No. It’s your wedding day. We should be focusing on you right now.” You smiled softly at Emma. “Are you ready to become Mrs. Horan?”


You smiled your best smile as you walked down the aisle. You looked straight ahead to see a very nervous Niall smiling at you. As you walked to where the other bridesmaids were standing, you mouthed to him, “You got this.”

Suddenly an instrumental version of “A Thousand Years” started to play, signaling the bride was coming. You smiled as you saw Emma walking down with her father. You remember when Emma told you that she wanted to walk down to this song, you thought it was silly. You thought it was a total cliche. But after seeing Emma smiling down at her husband to be with tears on both their faces, you knew this song was perfect for him. You truly knew they would love each other for thousands of years.

Finally the time came for Niall and Emma to say their vows to each other. You noticed Niall’s trembling fingers as he reached inside his suit pocket to grab his paper. He took a deep breath before he looked into Emma’s eyes.

“Emma, when I met you a year ago, I knew you were going to be the girl I married. After our second date, I promised myself that I would never hurt you. I promised that I will always be the one to make you laugh whenever you’re upset, to be the one that holds your hand when you need someone to talk to, and to be the one that you can call your best friend. The more that I’m with you, the more I forget the feeling of being lonely.”

As Harry was listening to Niall’s vows, he couldn’t help but look at you. God, he thought. You looked absolutely gorgeous. How was it that everyone’s eyes were on the bride but he couldn’t take his eyes off you? You were stunning. Harry’s eyes started to well with tears as he stared at his best friend. He couldn’t help but think that the next wedding you were going to be at would be your own with Lucas.

Emma cleared her throat before she promised her vows to Niall, “Niall Horan, I have never met someone that makes me laugh as much as you do. Never have I ever found someone that I can truly be myself with. You make me forget all of my troubles in the world and I could never thank you enough for that. I promise to always choose you. Whenever things get hard and whenever you need someone to talk to, I will be your best friend. I will be your wife.”

You wiped away a tear as you looked out into the guests. Immediately you were able to find Harry’s green eyes. You noticed how Harry was tearing up as he was staring back at you. You couldn’t help but think these were the kind of vows you always pictured yourself saying to Harry. You couldn’t get Harry off your mind.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Niall, you may kiss your bride.”


Emma smiled gratefully at you as she washed her hands. “Thank you so much, Y/N. I knew going to the restroom was going to be hard but I didn’t think it was going to be that hard.” You let out a chuckle as you were washing your own hands. Emma was practically begging you to help her pee while she was in her dress during dinner. How could you say no to the bride?

“No problem at all, love.” You replied as you dried your hands. You were about to walk out the restroom when you noticed Emma wasn’t following. You closed the door and turned around to see Emma staring off into space.

“Em? You ready?” You asked. Emma looked back at you and smiled. She pulled you into a hug. Confused, you returned the hug. Emma pulled away from the hug and pulled you over to the lounge area of the restroom. She sat on one of the couches and you followed after her. Emma grabbed your hand in hers. “Y/N. Even though I’ve known you for less than a year, I can happily say you’re one of my best friends.”

You smiled, “You’re my best friend too, Em.” Emma smiled before she continued, “In my relationship with Niall, you’ve been nothing but supportive. You’ve supported our love for each other from the start and I will always remain grateful. That’s why, as your best friend, I want nothing but you to be happy. And I know that being happy means being with Harry.”

You were about to object but Emma shook her head no. “When I saw you guys last night, it was obvious how much you guys loved each other. Anyone could clearly see that. When I saw you guys kiss, I was rooting for the two of you. I really was. Harry, he’s a good guy. And you deserve nothing but that. It broke my heart when I saw you run away. And when I saw how devastated Harry was? I thought that was it. I had to get you guys to understand that you guys had to come together, not run away. I know he’s hurt you. But you’ve hurt him too. Talk to him, make things right, allow yourself to be happy.”

By the end of Emma’s speech, you had her pulled into a tight hug. Emma smiled as she hugged you back. You pulled back from the hug as you smiled at Emma. “Thank you for that.”


Harry was sitting down at his assigned table, an untouched plate of food in front of him. He was watching Emma and her dad sharing their father-daughter dance until he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned his head to find you standing behind him.

“H? Can we talk?”


thank you guys so much for reading! i’ve been getting nothing but sweet and kind messages about this series and when the next part was going to be posted. i hope i did everyones justice! lol i love hearing from you guys! definitely let me know what you guys thought/ want to see happen next! all the love, t. 

you can find the rest of my writing here

you can find part 7 here

fun fact: for my mom’s wedding two years ago, she walked down to a thousand years lol 

Trouble in Canada // 2

a/n: You all have been so patient and I know I’m a bit late (4 months late soz about that). Every single one of you have been so amazing with the support of this, and it blows my mind every time I get a notification that TiC got another note. And when I posted earlier today that I was posting it, I absolutely loved the response I got in my inbox.  It made my heart incredibly happy and with each message that came in, not gonna lie, i teared up a bit. You all have been so lovely and good sports (especially when i posted that fake TiC2 WHAT A TIME). So from the bottom of my heart, thank you for all the support. I have met some of the most incredible people through TiC and I cherish every single one of you. I feel so emotional posting this, but you all finally deserve the second part to probably the most angsty piece I have ever written (and will ever write omg).  So, please enjoy the second and final installment to Trouble in Canada :)

THANK YA TO MY LOVELY @whitechocolateperfection for reading over this and giving me confidence :) you’re the best and i love you a whole lot 

Trouble in Canada (1)  |  Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

“We need to talk,”

        Those four words held a weight so heavy that you lost your grip on your tea.  Your mug dropped to the floor, shattering in pieces and tea spilling all over the hardwood floor.  You immediately went to pick up the broken pieces.  On your knees, you picked up the shards of glass as Shawn was stood in the same exact position; not moving a single bone in his body to help you.

        Collecting all the tiny shards in your hand you swiftly moved past Shawn to go throw the pieces out in the kitchen.  You opened the trash bin, and right as you were about to throw out the broken mug, Shawn’s voice interrupted your movements, “Is that the mug I got you?  The one from our first Valentine’s day together?”

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Interruptions

Request: “peter parker smut where the reader is either the daughter of an avenger or maybe just an avenger or something but she lives in the avengers compound (let’s just say peter decided to take tony up on his offer) and she’s dating peter and he sneaks into her room and just as they’re about to start round 2 one of the avengers catches them”

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: SMUTTT

“Good job team.” Tony gave a forced smile before quickly retreating to get a drink.

You looked to Peter, who was still heaving with bloody tears in his suit. You pulled him by the arm wordlessly to your room, sitting him down while you retrieved your first aid kit. He was still a little dazed from the fight, but as you pulled out a clean needle he gave you an adorable smile.

“If you say ‘this isn’t going to hurt’ I’m going to-“

“Kill me?” You smirked. Peter huffed a laugh, leaning back as you started stitching his wounds.

“You know, I think we’re too good for each other sometimes. We can barely get out a sentence without the other knowing how it’ll end.” You shook your head with a rogue smile. “We’re becoming a gross, sappy couple. I hate it.”

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ultimate-drama-queen  asked:

Hi. I love your blog and all the little headcannons (canon?) you do. I also noticed you're amazing for writing little stories for people who are having a tough time. Would it be too much to ask if I could have one? I'm suffering from a bout of depression/insomnia and I'm running on about 4 hours sleep in about 3 days. What do you think of Derek or Stiles getting insomnia from all the stuff they've seen and the other just cuddling them through it? Trying to stay awake so they're not alone?

Hey, sweetheart. The depression/insomnia combo is horrible. I don’t know if it will work for you but earlier this year I stumbled upon ASMR videos. I know some people find them weird but they really helped me when it came to getting to sleep. In the mean time, I hope this little fic does something to help. 

Stiles thought being able to sleep after the Nogitsune had been the universe’s way of balancing out the good and bad in his life: get possessed by a psychotic Japanese fox but sleep like a baby every night after. As it turned out, being able to sleep after a spirit uses your body to murder a bunch of people came down to the fact Stiles hadn’t had a break since finding Laura Hale’s body that night in the woods.   

He believed joining the academy would be a fresh start, and in many ways it was. He just didn’t count on the fact that now he didn’t have pure evil trying to kill him at every waking moment that his brain would finally find time to process it. Stiles had always been a fan of ignoring his problems until they eventually, just, go away; watching his friends die, looking down at his own body and knowing it wasn’t really his but the cardboard cutout left behind by the Nogitsune, the memory of watching Derek almost -

He assumed - stupidly - that he had been successful in that particular endeavour. As long as he had his pillow, he was fine. You’re going to be fine. That was what the faceless people of the internet said. Stiles didn’t think “fine” was ever going to be an option for him but he guessed hope was a nice sentiment. 

“Insomnia,” Scott said, repeating the word back to him. Stiles could practically hear the concern, loud and clear, ringing through the phone. It instantly made him feel worse. Heaving a sigh, he scrubbed a tired hand down his face. Maybe he shouldn’t have called.  

“Yes, insomnia.”

Scott was quiet for several seconds.  “Do you have your pillow?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Stiles answered. He was currently clutching it to his chest, sprawled out on his bedroom floor. It was 3am, the floor was hard, and if he didn’t get some sleep soon he was going to start crying; the kind of crying he hadn’t done since he was a kid and his mom took ill. 

“What about drugs?” Scott suggested. “I could ask my mom-”

“No drugs, Scott.”

“But-”

I said no drugs, Scott.” 

The line went quiet again and Stiles felt his eyes begin to sting. This was a mistake.

“Sorry, man, I have to go.” 

He hung up before Scott could respond, deciding he could feel guilty about it later.

~

At the academy, he was on auto-pilot. Luckily, Stiles had come up with some of his best plans during the last four years on little-to-no sleep, so it wasn’t overly obvious to his fellow agents-in-training that he needed several cups on coffee just to get through the day.

It was obvious to someone though. Someone who clearly thought it was their sworn duty to haul Stiles over their shoulder in the middle of his third run to the coffee shop that day and deposit him in the back of their car. 

Stiles wanted to protest - he should protest, call for help, maybe? - but he had had his eyes closed when the stranger grabbed him, had been drooling on a statue, leaning against it for moral support, as he had waited for his order.

Plus, the stranger’s arms felt nice. 

In the back of his mind, Stiles couldn’t decide if thinking a stranger’s arms felt nice during a potential kidnapping - fuck, please don’t let it be a supernatural kidnapping - was because of his sleep deprived state or if that was just the way he was wired now. 

It was only when a door opened and a familiar pair of eyebrows slid into the driver’s seat did Stiles begin to laugh. Hysterically. 

“Of course,” he said, shaking his head and pressing his lips against the cool leather interior. Familiar hands strapped him into the his seat. “Of course it’s you, big guy.”

Derek just gave a slight huff and muttered something Stiles couldn’t hear, but it sounded an awful lot like, yeah, I missed you, too. 

Stiles laughed again. It was crazy, what your mind came up with when it wasn’t functioning properly. 

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By Way of Spontaneity (Part 9)

Summary: On a whim, Bucky declares you to be his girlfriend to his grandma and mother. They’re eager to meet you and he asks you to pretend to be with him for just one dinner with his family. But is that really all?

Word Count: 816

Warnings: None.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

A/N: INBOX IS HERE. I apologize.

Originally posted by fuckyeahtonystark


Steve looked up from his laptop screen as Peggy came striding into the room, clad in only his dress shirt. He obviously ogled her and smiled when his eyes reached her toes and she wiggled them, toenails painted a vivid red.

“What are you doing?” she asked him, sitting down next to Steve and cuddling up to his side.

Steve gave a tiny shrug. “Enjoying our day off.”

Peggy scoffed. “By catching up on the latest gossip?”

“Hey, Facebook is quite the gossiper. I’ve found out remarkable things on this.”

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Slow Hands

Request: This was requested quite a few times a while ago and it’s been sitting, saved in my documents folder. So, here it is! Hopefully it isn’t as bad as I think it is lol.

Warnings: It gets a little NSFW toward the end, I mean… have you read these lyrics? 👀


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Slow Hands - Niall Horan


“This party fucking sucks,” Tom tilted back his drink, taking the last bit of it as he nodded along to Jacob’s complaint. “When can we leave?” Tom shrugged, glancing at all the people feigning confidence through liquid courage and lies that could split their teeth.

“What time is it?” Jacob glanced at his phone, showing it to Tom. It read close to two in the morning. Tom shook his head, placing his empty glass on top of a shelf and nodding toward his friend. “Hey, I’m gonna go to the bathroom. We’ll ditch soon, yeah?” Jacob nodded eagerly, saying something about going to get a water – Tom hadn’t heard him all that well, he was a few feet away, closer to the stairs, and the shitty music was blasting so loud he swore they’d been setting the volume higher just to fuck with him.

“We should take this back to my place,”
That’s what (s)he said right to my face

“Leaving so soon?” Tom’s lips lifted slightly, a smirk growing on his face. He stopped in front of the restroom door, not having opened it yet. His head tilted to the left, seeing you leaning against a closed door, a smile on your face. He’d seen you at parties like these before – grabbed your ass while kissing you at a couple, sitting and getting lost in conversations at the others. He had always had a place for you, he just never let you know that. He liked this silent arrangement you both had: mysterious make-out sessions and interesting conversation. You were a tease, and you were the only one that didn’t frustrate him when it came to the ‘cat and mouse’ game.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, leaning next to you as he lifted his right shoulder in a lazy shrug. “This party fucking sucks.” You nodded, pursing your lips as you side-stepped closer to him, so your shoulder was touching his, rolling your head so your face was in close proximity to his.

“Yeah, it does kind of suck – kind of sad, though,” he looked at you confused, silently urging you to continue. You stood up straight, walking up closer to him. He mimicked you, fixing his posture so he was directly in front of you; his back was pressed against the bathroom door and his eyes trailed over you, not quite meeting your eyes until you were flush against him. “It’s too bad we didn’t get our moment,” you leaned into him, tilting your head as your lips brushed against his ear, “alone.”

Tom wasted no time, grabbing your hand with one of his while simultaneously reaching his other hand behind him to open the bathroom door. He dragged you in, closing it and pushing you back, this time your back being against the door. You smiled wide, your body pumping with anticipation as Tom placed both hands on your cheeks and pulled you to him, his lips meeting yours in a heated rush. He worked quickly, letting his tongue slide past his lips and skimming yours, begging for an entrance. You were in no mood to tease tonight, your arms wrapping around his neck as his hands fell to your waist, and then the backs of your thighs. He lifted you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. His lips detached from yours, moving to your neck. Your elbows rested on his shoulders as your hands came up to tug at his hair, your soft pants encouraging him as his lips dipped down to your shoulder, biting you lightly and then running his tongue against you to soothe the light pain.

Knock, knock, knock. Tom pulled away from you, groaning as you laughed. Your mood was interrupted by the knocks on the bathroom door and the incessant shouts that there was a line forming beyond it.

We should take this back to my place,” he whispered, catching you by surprise as he set you back down on your feet. You two had never extended your affairs outside of the house the parties you went to were being held at. You laughed lightly, your hands falling from his hair as one of them cupped his cheek.

“That’s not how we work, Tommy.” You winked at him, fixing your top as he looked at you, confused. You checked yourself in the mirror, wiping away the slightly smeared lipstick at the corners of your mouth and sighing as you looked at him through the mirror. “There’s a party next week,” you shrugged, smiling at him, “maybe I’ll see you there.” And with that, you unlocked the bathroom door and made your way out. Tom sighed in frustration, flipping off the guy that was complaining as he made his way out, searching for Jacob.

Tom hated these fucking parties. But, would he always come to it, thinking you’d be here to satisfy his craving? Hell yes. His eyes searched the room for you, ignoring Harrison’s attempt to talk over the even shittier music at this party. He brought Harrison and Jacob, just so if he’d see you, they’d be too distracted with each other to ask where he was going or where he’d been. He almost said, ‘fuck it’ and asked the boys if they wanted to leave – then, he saw you. Walking up the stairs. You turned around, seeing him looking at you. You flashed him a smile, waving as you turned to walk again, your steps slower and your hips moving a bit more dramatically.

I’ve been thinking ‘bout it all day
And I hope you feel the same way, yeah

Tom didn’t even tell his friends he was leaving, his instincts carried him up the stairs in hopes to find you alone. But, when he made it up to the top of the staircase, he didn’t see you. He was about to head for the bathroom again until he felt a hand, on his shoulder, turning him around.

‘Cause I want you bad
Yeah, I want you, baby

“There’s an empty bedroom behind me – if you want to,” your left eye dropped to a wink. He felt like he had to work fast, or else you’d change your mind. He wasted no time again, walking past you and opening the door, pulling you in and then locking it, just like he had done the week before to the bathroom door. Instead of pinning you against the door, this time he rushed you to the bed, picking you up and dropping you on the mattress softly, relishing in the sound of your laugh and memorizing the curves of your smile as he leaned over you, dropping down to kiss you.

Slow, slow hands,
like sweat dripping down our dirty laundry

The windows were wide open and you could feel a breeze coming through – but, as both of your hands worked quickly on the other, trying to pry each other’s clothing off, you felt the intensity of a heat. Your palms began to sweat and Tom desperately tried to tear his shirt off, his hand coming up to brush his hair back as it began to stick against his forehead, making it unbearably hotter than it was. You both were too into each other to focus on how hot it had gotten, your body heat only making the other irresistible to you.

I just wanna take my time
We could do this, baby, all night, yeah

Tom’s hands slowed as soon as you were out of your top, his hands starting to leave random shapes on your skin as he kissed you on your lips, your cheek, your neck, your chest. His lips had reached your stomach when a phone rang. You both ignored it, Tom’s loud pants distracting the both of you as your hand disappeared into Tom’s unbuttoned jeans and his loose, white Calvin’s. He groaned loudly as your hand worked against him, only snapping out of his pleasurable trance when there was a knock on the door.

“Tom?” He groaned, his head rolling back in annoyance when he felt your hand leave him. He looked at you apologetically as he reached for his shirt, slipping it on.

“Can’t catch a fucking break,” Tom shook his head, leaning down to kiss your cheek. You didn’t know what had gotten into you, but your hand reached for his, stopping him as he walked toward the door.

No, no chance
that I’m leaving here without you on me

“Want to go back to mine?” Tom looked at you confused – he thought back to last week, you had turned him down. He thought of doing the same to you, repeating your line just so you knew how it felt. But, as Tom shifted uncomfortably in his pants, he realized there was no way he was going to turn you down. He nodded, reaching down to peck you lightly, another thing you both never did, and reaching for your hand, gripping it as he pulled open the door and ran down the stairs with you behind him.

“Dude,” Tom called out to Jacob, putting his free hand on his friend’s shoulder while still holding yours tightly with his other. “Here,” he fished his car keys out of his pocket, handing them to Jacob, “I’m, uh – going home with a friend. We’re gonna catch up.” Jacob narrowed his eyes at Tom, looking behind him to see who his other hand was attached to. He smiled at you, it quickly turning into a smirk when he went back to look at Tom.

“‘Catch up’, huh?” Tom rolled his eyes as Jacob grabbed his keys. “Have a good night,” he leaned into his friend’s ear as he pat his shoulder, “don’t forget to wrap up.” Tom shoved him playfully, dragging you out the door as you waved at Tom’s smiling number two. Tom let you lead him to your car, he offered to drive but you declined, arguing you’d get to the house faster since you already knew where you were going. Tom didn’t argue after that point, wanting to get to your bed as quickly as you did.

As soon as the car was parked in the driveway and you two made it past the front door, clothing items were being thrown everywhere, leaving a trail from the doorway to your bedroom down the hall. You thanked god that your roommates were out at that party, having promised they wouldn’t be coming back home. Your fingers worked at Tom’s shirt as he not-so-skillfully worked on the zipper of your dress. In his defense, walking backwards, kissing and trying to navigate where the room was, was really throwing him off.

Slow, slow hands
Like sweat drippin’ down our dirty laundry (…)
Fingertips puttin’ on a show
Got me now and I can’t say no
Wanna be with you all alone
Take me home, take me home

“For fuck sake,” he finally said, stopping you at the entrance to your bedroom and turning you around so he could undress you properly. His hands slowly unzipped you, his lips meeting the exposed skin as it went further down. He was on his knees, behind you, helping you take off your heels, leaving softer, barely noticeable kisses on every inch of you. Since coming to your house was against your unspoken protocol, he decided to throw all caution to the wind and say and do everything to you he was afraid to do before. He stood back up straight, peeling his unbuttoned shirt off as you turned around to work at the button on his jeans. “You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, his lips kissing up and down your jaw and his fingers digging into your hips the closer your hands got to where he needed them to be.

“You’re just saying that because you’re about to get what you want and my hands are down your pants,” you said playfully, blaming the heat between you two for the redness you most likely had on your cheeks. Tom shook his head, grabbing your face and forcing you to look up at him, your hands stilling.

“You look beautiful right now, and you’ll look beautiful in the morning.” You tried to fight the smile off your face as you shook your head, pushing Tom toward the bed and letting him fall against it not-so-gracefully. You leaned down, pulling his pants the rest of the way down.

Yeah, I already know that there ain’t no stopping
Your plans and those slow hands (woo)

“You’re so full of shit, Holland.” You smirked, straddling his lap as you grounded against him, living for the groans and whines that stumbled past his swollen lips. His closed eyes gave you the courage to reach behind you to unhook your bra, tossing it on the floor next to you. When Tom heard the material fall to the floor softly, he opened his eyes in surprise, his eyes widening even more as he saw you completely topless on top of him. You and he had never gotten this far – so far, your encounters had been innocent, PG-13 and over the clothes stuff.

He didn’t know why you two didn’t stop this time. Maybe this was much more than a party – it seemed intimate. His hands reached out, brushing your hair back and away from your chest, marveling at you properly. His hands slipped to your waist, tugging against the top of your underwear and letting it snap back against your skin. You took that as a signal, prompting you to sit back and slip off the rest of your clothing. He whistled lowly at you, trying to kick your newly-found shy demeanor to the curb. It worked, he thought, as you rolled your eyes at him, your hands uncrossing from your chest as you leaned down, placing your hands against his chest and feeling the sweat that held built up there.

“Your turn,” you whispered, letting your hands fall to his waist, slowly tugging off his boxers as your lips met his jaw. Once he was fully unclothed, you hovered over him again, leaning in to kiss him as you positioned yourself, lowering down on him, you both sighing into each other’s mouths. You allowed yourself to move at a slow pace, not wanting to break the tension between you two and loving the way your name sounded as it came falling out in a whisper from his lips. You could feel the bruises forming on your hips as his fingers dug into you, not caring as he lifted himself to meet you in your thrusts.

“Tom,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss him as your whines grew louder and your nails scratched against his chest.

“I know, baby,” he whispered back, his slow movements becoming sloppy as he grew tired, instead stilling himself and helping you by lifting you up from your waist and easing you back down against him. You both had never thought that this slow-paced and gentle interaction would come from you two. Whenever either of you envisioned finally sleeping with each other, you assumed it’d be animalistic and forgettable. But, as you both finished each other off, your names filling the hot silence, you realized you preferred slow hands and careful movements. You fell next to him when you both were done, barely registering him wrapping his arm around you as he pulled your back toward his chest, nuzzling his head in the back of your neck.

You woke up the next morning, feeling Tom’s arm still wrapped around you securely. You smiled, turning around slowly as to not wake up him – you had found yourself moving a lot slower around Tom. You turned, though, to see him already awake, smiling at you. You leaned in, not being able to stop yourself, to peck him lightly, your hand coming up to rest against his cheek.

“What?” You asked, feeling a little self-conscience as he continued to look at you. He laughed lightly, shaking his head.

“Still beautiful.” You smiled widely, burying your head in his chest as his arms tightened around you, loving the way his laugh sounded, rough and raspy, when you mumbled for him to shut up. 


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What experience changed your perspective on life?

I was about 11 years old and I got into a horrible fight at school with my brother who was barely more than a year older than me so we were close growing up, but with a lot of tension. We had a lot of mutual friends and I don’t remember the specifics, but I felt as if he had embarrassed me in front of everyone or diminished me into being some sort of child even though our age difference was small. After school I went to my Grandmother’s as I usually did after school at that time, while my brother went to wrestling practice.


My Grandmother had a thick French accent and lived in an enormous, overgrown looking house that was filled from head to toe with books and I LOVED it. My brother was more sporty than me and that got a lot of attention and appreciation from our father who I was more alienated from for being bookish. My Grandmother was my only kindred spirit in the family and for much of my childhood really.


Anyways I kind of tried to conceal my anger from my Grandmother at first and I was helping her clean (which I enjoyed doing because we would listen to great jazz and blues artists which she loved and she would tell me about the lives of jazz musicians and such, it was all very cool to me). At one point though she said something or other about my brother and I just couldn’t help it, I hadn’t cried in front of my grandmother in years but I was just so angry and frustrated that it all came out. I was so embarrassed, but I just told her everything right then about how overshadowed I felt by him, how my father didn’t love me the way he loved him, feelings I was super ashamed of even having.


She kind of let my emotions hang in the air and just quietly comforted me by rubbing my back, but then she told me to come upstairs with her to her bedroom. Her bedroom had a lot of character like a lot of the house and it was filled with photos and books and albums she loved and especially had a lot of Jewish art on the walls.


She fumbled around in her desk pulling out random papers and odds and ends until she pulled out a dusty photo album that I had never seen before which was in itself remarkable because my grandmother loved to show me photos of when she first came to America and my mother and uncles as children, all that.
We sat down on the bed and she opened it and there were all of these black and white photos of my great-grandparents when they were alive. It started with very small children and my great-grandparents looking very finely dressed and happy and page by page there was just this horrible transformation of the children getting older and my great grandparents looking like they had aged 20 years when their children had only aged a few years. I had some understanding of what was going on of course, I knew about WW2, the holocaust etc. Which is to say, I knew an age appropriate version of all that, but I was beginning to get old enough that something darker was lurking, a more visceral reality to what I knew factually to be true.


We got to the exact center of the album with my Grandmother saying very little except people’s names, when the photos were taken, etc. Then right there, over a photo, pressed between the pages, was a patch, a patch of a yellow star with the word “Juif” on it. And my grandmother, pressed the star to her chest, as if holding it to where it would have been sewn an age ago and gave me a small nod and said in her soft-breazy accent “This one was not mine, I don’t think, but Claudette’s” and she pointed down at the picture that the star had been covering.


It was of two teenage girls, young, perhaps 13 or 14, smiling in front of some sort of railing overlooking a river, stars visible in their clothing. One, I immediately recognized to be my grandmother, who… while a wonderful human being had sort of a crooked smile and a big nose that was altogether too interesting looking to be mainstream beautiful. The girl next to her in the photo looked in many ways like her, but definitely had more classic good looks and a certain radiance that really came off the page.


“This is her. Claudette, my sister. We were very close in age, closer even than you and your brother.” she kept punctuating her sentences with a sort of bitter, humorless laugh and would pause, look away and then look back at the photo.
“She was my best friend, but I was very jealous of her, very. She was beautiful, funny. It hurt to even be jealous of her, she was so likable.” She sighed and I caught sight of the numbers tattooed on her arm, my earliest memory was and is of my grandmother giving me my first hair cut in front of the mirror and her guest room and my eyes catching those numbers in the reflection as if for the first time and the sudden curiosity they inspired. I felt a morbid echo of that curiosity then.


Then she said to me “I never would have thought then. That I would have been the lucky one. Your granmere has gotten old. Claudette will be 15 forever.” and her voice broke on that last word, not quite finishing it.
“Try not to fight with your brother Ezra, or else, do not let the fight go on for too long. You’re young, but you’re smart enough to know that most of us are not young forever. Trust me, the older you get, the more desperately you will need those who knew you when you were young.”


And then just like that the moment was over, she replaced the star, shut the album and shut it all away. Then she went back to cleaning, as if her own heart hadn’t broken all those years ago, as if she hadn’t just blown my own fucking young mind.


My Grandmother died when I was 16, but wrote me a card for my high school graduation in advance knowing that she probably wasn’t going to make it. On the day I graduated I opened and read her advice, her hopes for me, all good stuff. It ended with her recalling that day and what it had meant for her and how she hoped I could find balance in life between being true to myself and not sacrificing happiness. The last line was “We all have a responsibility to remember the bad times, even when it hurts to admit that they happened; just as we have a responsibility to remember the good times, even when it hurts to admit that they’re gone. Congratulations on your graduation, I love you with all of my heart.”


I bawled then, I’m tearing up now just thinking about it. Never has another human being had more of an impact on another than my grandmother had on me.

Home - Jon Snow

Jon Snow’s army defeated the Boltons, thus retaking Winterfell in the Stark’s name. But you haven’t seen Jon since he left for the Night’s Watch. Will he remember what you said to him as he walked out of Winterfell’s gates? Will he feel the same way when he returned? (Words : 2344)

Originally posted by daughterofwinterfell

The last time you saw Jon Snow, he had a frown on his face as he solemnly told you that he was leaving to Castle Black. You could remember your heart aching as his brown eyes held your gaze as he tried to explain why he was going away.

“This is your home, Jon, you just can’t leave like this. You’re needed here,” you begged, tears falling down your face. Jon gave you saddened look, trying desperately to make your understand. But he knew you would understand, you just didn’t want to. You had been one of his closest companions, next to Robb and other Stark children; there was something special about you. which made this all the more difficult for him.

“Y/N, this isn’t my home. I don’t belong here, I’m no Stark.” You shook your head, resting your hands on his shoulders. One hand traveled to his neck, causing him to look up and meet your eyes once more. You stared into his dark eyes, like you’ve done many times before.

There was something between you two, in the way you looked at each other. Your stolen moments were more than the mischievous ones shared between Jon and Arya. Your conversations with him held more heart than your jokes with Sansa. You confided in Jon with your secrets and problems more than Robb. There was an unspoken, untouched affection that lingered in too-long touches and heartfelt stares; but now those little moments would cease. The possibility of love would trail behind Jon as he traveled to the Night’s Watch.

“This isn’t your home?” Your hands held his face now, pulling him closer than ever before. “Jon, Winterfell is just four walls,” your voice was more calm now, “I’m your home.” You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding, but Jon seemed to stop breathing all together.

“Y/N, you’re,” he paused, not knowing what to say. You swallowed hard, letting your words rest between you with a heavy weight. “You are my home,” Jon finally said, “but I need to do this. For me. For the realm.” You smiled softly, feeling more tears swell in your eyes.

“And you say you’re not a Stark, always doing things for the greater good,” you let out a bittersweet, short laugh. Jon gave you a sorrowful smile before resting his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes, savoring the closeness you shared with Jon in that moment. Your last intimate moment together.

After a while, you pulled your head away from Jon’s. You locked eyes with him again and you were just, so close. His lips were just a tip-toe away. You could feel his breath against your skin and it was just so tempting to close that gap.

“Y/N,” Jon murmured lowly, his northern accent heavier than before. One of his hands cupped your face, his thumb tracing the space beneath your bottom lip. Jon leaned forward slightly, but you backed away. You curled your bottom lip in your mouth and shook your head.

“When you come back home Jon Snow,” you took a tentative step towards him, “when you come back to me.” You leaned over slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. You pulled away fully, because if you didn’t, you’d probably wouldn’t be able to stop yourself. “When you come back home,” you repeated and Jon nodded. His hand went to yours, givning it a soft squeeze.

“I will miss you, Y/N,” he whispered, “I will miss you dearly.” Jon turned then, walking off to his room. You watched him go, knowing that in the morning there would be no time for a true goodbye like this. And you were right; Jon Snow left the next morning and you were forced to just wave goodbye, only remembering your true farewell from the night before.

All that followed after his departure came with the shadow of death and horror. The Stark name had been dragged through the dirt, with Ned’s beheading and Robb’s murder. It seemed there was no end in sight with all the killings. It sure didn’t stop when Winterfell had fallen into the control of House Bolton; more specifically, Ramsay Bolton.


 The clashing of weapons and the bloody screams of soldiers could be heard through the stone walls of Winterfell. You hid in a small room, trying to avoid the Boltons that were searching for servants to aid in the battle. You had no wish to fight against Sansa’s forces, especially after finding out that Jon was leading them. The beat of your heart accelerated when you thought of seeing him again, if he made it through the battle.

 You were concealed in the room, Jon’s old room that had become yours, until your heard a large banging that came from the courtyard. You carefully opened the door, peeking out from beyond the balcony at the giant that had burst through the door. You opened the door a little more and saw him. Jon, standing next to the giant as an arrow flew into it’s eye. You gasped, turning your head to have your eyes land on Ramsay. You swallowed hard as you look back at Jon.

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roommates

Originally posted by mikeygcsgiggle

word count: 2.2k

warnings: swearing & smut ;)

summary: you and Luke are dorm mates and when you strut around the dorm in barely anything he can’t help himself anymore. 

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Honestly, it vexes me when I consistently see people saying that they don’t want to see redemption arcs.

And to clarify because I don’t want to beat around the bush, I do mean Kylo Ren in particular—though this could be generalized for other characters, too, I guess?

Kylo falls under the role of an antagonist. He has done horrible things: he is the Jedi Killer, he ordered the slaughter of those people at the start of the film, tortured Poe for information, fetched information from Rey’s mind and killed his own father. These are actions that firmly establish him as Not Good. He wouldn’t be an antagonist if he didn’t do bad things, would he?

But context is very important, and the finer emotional nuances in scenes such as Han’s death need to be evaluated less simplistically. In multiple source materials, it is canonically established that Kylo Ren is not pure evil. He struggles with the actions he believes he must take. Adam Driver has described Kylo Ren as someone who (while not verbatim, the intent of words is the same) “feels what he’s doing is right, and feels justified in his actions because of that.” If you want the full bit of what he said, just for clarity, here:

Well, I don’t know. I certainly didn’t think of him that way in playing him, that he is doing anything villainous. It’s more if he thinks what he is doing is right, and being justified by it. And then trying to tell the story of why – making it a person as much as possible.

“Wait!” You might say. “He thinks the fucked up shit he’s doing is right? How is that at all supposed to make me want this guy to have a redemption arc?”

This is where we get into the finer details and lore, my friend. While the matter of Ben Solo’s grooming by Snoke is an entire other issue the fandom is up in arms about, the fact that he was targeted in the womb is undeniable. There are multiple written scenes in the Aftermath novel that lead to this conclusion:

The dark, now lit with stars. One by one, like eyes opening. Comforting at first, then sinister as she worries. Who is out there, who is watching us? Hands reach for her, hands of shadow, lifting her up, reaching for her throat, her wrists, her stomach -

Inside, the child kicks. She feels her baby turning inside, right-side, up and down, struggling to find his bearings, trying so hard to find his way free of her. It’s not time, she thinks. Just a little longer.


He is less a human shaped thing and more a pulsing, living band of light. Light that sometimes dims, that sometimes is thrust with a vein of darkness. She tells herself that it’s normal - Luke said to her, Leia, we all have that. He explained that the brighter the light, the darker the shadow.

The baby turns inside her again, troubled by something she cannot feel and cannot yet understand.

As well as this moment from the novelization of TFA:

Leia bit her lower lip, refusing to concede. “No. It was Snoke.

Han drew back slightly. “Snoke?”

She nodded. “He knew our child would be strong with the Force. That he was born with equal potential for good or evil.” “You knew this from the beginning? Why didn’t you tell me?”

She sighed. “Many reasons. I was hoping that I was wrong, that it wasn’t true. I hoped I could sway him, turn him away from the dark side, without having to involve you.” A small smile appeared.  

“You had—you have—wonderful qualities, Han, but patience and understanding were never among them. I was afraid that your reactions would only drive him farther to the dark side. I thought I could shield him from Snoke’s influence and you from what was happening.” Her voice dropped. “It’s clear now that I was wrong. Whether your involvement would have made a difference, we’ll never know.”

He had trouble believing what he was hearing. “So Snoke was watching our son.”

Always,” she told him. “From the shadows, in the beginning, even before I realized what was happening, he was manipulating everything, pulling our son toward the dark side.

And then, of course, are these additions from JJ:

It’s more than just having a ‘bad seed’ as a kid. Snoke had targeted this kid and knew that this kid was going to be incredibly powerful in The Force and wanted him as an ally.

So this mother and father had a target as a son, someone who’s watching their boy, and these parents aren’t there enough to guide him.

Kylo Ren is a villain, but he’s also a victim and this plays—no matter what people might want to think—a very integral role in his character progression. Snoke has been an influence on Ben Solo’s life for almost as long as he’s existed. There has likely never been a Ben Solo that existed without that outside influence. According to the timeline we’ve been able to establish about Kylo, he defected when he was in his 20s—meaning there is a part of him that always resisted the seduction of the dark side, but eventually gave in. 

But why did he give in? What was the extent of this manipulation on Snoke’s behalf that could cause a golden child from some of our favorite heroes to go so wrong? 

The thing is, we can’t be sure. We only know that Ben was kept from the truth about his lineage and when that knowledge came forward, he felt betrayed. Worse, it is likely that the combination of Snoke’s influence and the respective actions/inactions of his parents (no matter how well meaning) all served to push him off that edge. 

My two cents? Kylo Ren has the illusion that what he’s doing is right because what he used to believe in—his parents, the Jedi, the light—were proven to be ‘wrong’ when he found out the truth. This all-knowing force that had guided him all his life had been right instead. 

“The supreme leader is wise.”

I believe that in the end, the rhetoric of the dark side and Snoke became the only thing left to Ben Solo that made sense anymore. So he did what Snoke told him was right, because he’d been right about everything else. He follows his dark path almost religiously because it’s all that’s left to him now.  

When Han talks to Kylo Ren on  that bridge, he isn’t talking to the Jedi Killer—he is talking to his son. He is talking to his boy who has not heard his own name in god knows how long (because Ben Solo is dead) and he is getting through to him. When Han Solo asks Kylo Ren to come back home, Kylo Ren does not laugh in his face. He doesn’t proclaim his father a fool. He doesn’t praise the dark side.

He says, with tears in his eyes, “It’s too late.”

In my opinion, it’s practically an admittance that this is not what he wanted. He does not want to be on that bridge, preparing to do what he’s going to do. I think he wants to go back home, but—going back to what I said earlier about the dark being all he has left—he believes that there’s nothing left, though Han is offering him family again. Because if his father is right, then what has he done? What has he done all this time? If Han is right, he has made so many unforgivable mistakes, and who could live with that? If what he’s done is not right, then what does that make him? 

Anyone would have a hard time swallowing that. It has to be right, because if it’s wrong, the alternative is unthinkable. 

JJ has another memorable quotation that I can (and will) reference back to in order to support this:

People have asked me if I think that Kylo Ren was just playing with him the whole time, if he meant to kill him from the beginning. And the truth is, I think Kylo Ren, in this moment, is actually being convinced to walk away from this. Snoke is, as Han says, using him, and I think that somewhere Ben knows this. But I think that he can’t accept it. Deep down, he has gone too far.

Despite anything Kylo Ren has said, Ben Solo is still very much alive. The action of killing Han Solo was an act from Snoke meant to quiet that voice completely. It’s not weakness in his apprentice that Snoke fears: it’s his apprentice thinking for himself and having Ben Solo’s power used against him. He played the long game. Every investment he made into the birth of Kylo Ren was to ensure he had this quivering mass of rage and anguish fighting on his behalf. He does not want Kylo Ren to be at peace with the pull inside of him the way Kylo Ren thinks killing his father will achieve.

He wants Kylo Ren to suffer. He wants to Kylo Ren to sabotage himself until there truly is no way back.

At the end of the day, it’s important for people to realize this: redemption arcs are not about what a character deserves. It never will be about deserving. Han Solo deserves justice? Yes. Poe and Rey deserve justice? Yes. Finn deserves justice? Yes. Does Kylo Ren deserve to be punished for what he’s done? Of course. Redemption arcs aren’t about justice either, however. It isn’t about cleansing an antagonist of their sins or punishing them. 

It’s the antagonist realizing the horror of what they’ve done and deciding they need to do something to make things right. Whether that be a sacrifice or a lifetime’s worth of service in the name of a greater good, it doesn’t matter. It’s about repenting. 

This is about Kylo Ren realizing the light wasn’t a lie, that he doesn’t have to tear himself apart anymore. That he’s drawn to it for a reason. This is about reparations to a galaxy, an abuse victim realizing he is being abused. Gaining his independence for the first time in his life. Giving his father’s soul peace, and his mother one more piece of her shattered family back after everything she has lost.

That is a redemption arc. 

anonymous asked:

You and H get into a fight at Anne's house while staying there please

It had been a stressful week for not only Harry, but you as well. And although you tried hard not to let your mood affect Harry, he wasn’t doing a great job at doing that himself.
Harry was sweet; a gentleman, that until he was pissed off and stressed. He became cold and would have his anger triggered by the slightest thing. Normally, he’d apologize an hour or two after he snaps which sends you both to your happy relationship again, both of you talking everything out.

But it had been a week, not a few hours. You had problems at work, the home cooked meal that you had been dying to try to cook from the internet was burned, you dropped your phone down the toilet and you had two cherries on top; Harry and your period.
But a week ago, Anne had invited you and Harry for dinner along with Gemma.

Harry was dependent on the fact that you remembered that tonight was the dinner night, getting ready with no words shared. You changed in the bathroom while he changed in the bedroom; something that you hadn’t done in so long.

The drive to Anne’s house was agonizing. No tunes playing and no words shared, just the uncomfortable silence and the murmurs of “for fuck’s sake”’s that left Harry’s lips whenever someone did something stupid on the road.
When you arrived to Anne’s house, you expected Harry to stay and at least say anything, anything at all. But Harry was the first to get out of the car. You sighed, unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out, following Harry who now stood on the doorstep and had already rung the door bell.

“Awe! Come inside!” Anne instantly opened the door, pulling the both of you inside before hugging Harry tightly. “Someone needs to shave that.” She patted his chin.

He chuckled, “Was meaning to, slipped out of my mind.”

“Move along, now. I want to greet my future daughter-in-law.” Anne giggled, pushing Harry aside.

You tensed. Although it was something Anne had always said but now, you weren’t sure how to feel about it; how Harry felt about it. You hugged Anne tightly, almost as if she was putting you back together.

“I miss you, too, but I do know that this is not just a greeting hug.” Anne whispered, rubbing your back soothingly.

You didn’t realize your eyes were tearful until you pulled back and Anne cooed sympathetically and pulled you back for another hug. “Is it my son? Did he do this?”

You only sniffled, pulling away to wipe your tears. “Can we talk about this later, please?” You asked quietly.

“Of course.” Anne rubbed your back before you both walked towards the living room where you were engulfed in a hug by Gemma the second she saw you.

She then punched you in the arm, making you wince and hold it. “What was that for?”

“For me having to find out you got promoted from Sarah the other day. We should have celebrated!” Gemma whined.

You bit your lip, feeling Harry’s eyes on you in confusion and shock.

“Uh, it'a nothing really.” You chuckled nervously, shrugging.

“Oh, stop with being humble now, silly. Of course it’s something! Gem, take out the champagne.” Anne grinned. “And come help me with setting up the table.”

“I’ll help you.” You said quickly, walking towards her.

“Nonsense. Gemma owes me a favor for something anyway.” Anne smiled.

“Do I?” Gemma asked, looking at Anne confusingly who shot her a glare, “Oh,” She whispered, “Oh! I do, yeah.”
Anne grabbed her giggling daughter’s arm, dragging her behind her and towards the kitchen.

You sighed, sitting on the chair opposite to the couch where Harry sat.
“Why didn’t you tell me you got promoted?” Harry asked.

Your head snapped towards him in shock before a bitter chuckle left your lips. “Really? Really, Harry?”

“What?”

“I texted you the day I got it. Told you I have big exciting news. You came home, fucking looked me in the eyes when I had dinner for both of us, candlelit might I add and then you went to bed.” You whisper yelled, not wanting Anne or Gemma to hear.

For a moment, guilt washed over Harry’s face before he turned cold again. “You didn’t even check on me to see if I was fine that day.”

You gasped, “Are you listening to yourself right now?”

“I am actually, yes, very well.” Harry said sarcastically, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Why am I the one who always has to give up my comfort for you? You haven’t touched me, let alone talk to me at all for the past week. Every time I try, you find a way to turn it to a fight. You have been so fucking selfish, Harry.” You let the tears fall.

“I’m being selfish? So I have to fucking pamper you like a child now to actually show I care? What do you want me to do? Buy you stuff? Is that what you want? Is that the kind of comfort you want, Y/N?!” Harry shouted, standing up.

“What are you trying to say, Harry?” You gasped, standing up. “Are you telling me that I’ve been in this relationship for 2 years because I want your money? Is that what you’re trying to say?” You shouted, getting closer to him as he rubbed his face with his hands with a groan. “I told you that you haven’t touched me nor talk to me and you think I want you treating me like I’m a child?”

“Listen, this isn’t what I meant. I’m so-”

“If you’re not happy anymore then just say it. Break up with me. But doing this,” You cried, gesturing between you, “This is hurting me so much, Harry.” You let your head fall, sobbing.

“No, no,” Harry quickly put his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. “Fuck,” He whispered under his breath, “I would never want to break up. I am happy with you.” He cooed.

“You sure don’t act like it.” You mumbled, not hugging him back.

Harry sighed before sitting down on the couch, taking a hold of your arm and pulling you down gently to him to make you sit on his lap where he wrapped his arms around you. “I know this isn’t an excuse for how much of a dick I have been but I’m so scared of how fast my life is going right now, my career. I started taking it out on you because you’re the only one who doesn’t give me shit for being myself and I guess,” He paused, shaking his head, “I guess I took this for granted. I’m so sorry, baby. I love you, so much. I’m sorry I have been a massive dick for the past week and I’m terribly sorry for not celebrating your promotion and making it seem like it didn’t matter to me. I really am proud of you, love. So much.”

“You really were a massive dick.” You mumbled, fiddling with your fingers.

Harry chuckled, tightening his hold around you before pecking your cheek. “I really was.”

“I love you, too.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around him, burying your head in his neck.

“I’ll be better, I promise. I’ll make it all up to you.” He whispered, his head nuzzling in your shoulder as he closed his eyes in satisfaction and comfort. Now he knew what had he been missing.

“Dinner and champagne are ready!” Anne announced with a cheerful tone.

“Also, no make up sex!” Gemma shouted before you both heard a smack and Gemma wince, “Just kidding, just kidding!”

You both laughed before walking towards the two, now with happy and warm smiles.

To Build a Home

Summary: Reader and Bucky are trying for a baby
A/N: I was going through my prompt tag and came across this prompt and had to write it. It’s named after this song which helped inspire me To Build a Home - The Cinematic Orchestra. Please come let me know what you think.
Word count : 1419

Originally posted by relationshipaims


You stare at the test in your hand, a tear slipping down your cheek. It’s only when you feel a warm hand wiping the tear away that you remember Bucky, your husband is sitting next to you. “It’s okay darlin’, we can try again” he murmurs pressing a kiss to your temple. It was the third test in the last few months and you wondered if you would ever have a baby. “It’ll happen” he whispers, taking your free hand in his. You knew he was also trying to reassure himself. Both of you had been tested after fears of infertility but the doctor had claimed you were both fine in that department, so now it was a waiting game. 

You get up throwing the test in the trash before laying down on the bed. Sadness tugs at your heart as your mind races with questions and possibilities. Bucky kneels on the bed gently rolling you onto your back, he leans down kissing you gently.

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