i tried to color this but then i just gave up i'm sorry

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Derek, master of tight black jeans and tight dark henley's, shows up to a pack meeting wear a soft blush pink sweater and light faded blue jeans and he just looks so soft Stiles wants to touch.

Stiles had learned a lot of things about Derek Hale, Beacon Hills’ very own grumpy werewolf with a dry wit and a heart of gold, over the years of knowing him.

For one, Derek Hale was a nerd behind the walls he had put up to protect himself – his feelings, his heart – after everything he had been through. He owned so many books, that they couldn’t even fit onto the many, many shelves he had put in the loft after he returned to the town the year before.

He had a movie collection that easily beat Stiles’ own, and he could talk for hours and hours about pretty much any historical event. Stiles knew from personal experience, had listened to him go on and on for a seemingly endless time, and he hadn’t been bored for a single second of it.

For another, Derek had incredible, although slightly boring, taste in music. Incredible because the music he did listen to was good and calming. Boring because there wasn’t a lot of variety, the same songs playing on repeat.

Stiles had only complained about it once (okay, maybe three times) but then he’d seen the relaxed expression on Derek’s face while the music filled the loft and he’d promptly stopped.

For a third, Derek had pictures of his family stored away somewhere. None of them were put up when the loft got redecorated, and no one in the pack had asked. Not even Cora.

For a fourth, Derek was a damn good cook and an even better baker. Stiles could eat his own weight in his cooking, probably more than.

For a fifth, Derek was as much of a big brother as he was a little brother. He could tease and annoy in his own way as much as he could protect and glare away anyone coming anywhere near the people he cared about.

For a sixth, Derek looked amazing in dark colors, and his typical tight black jeans and dark henley combo constantly made Stiles drool. Dark colors, Stiles had learned over the years, were Derek’s color. Stiles hadn’t seen him in any actual colors since that one blue shirt that was ruined in a fight all those years ago.

Stiles hadn’t even realized how much he had missed seeing Derek wearing colors. Not until Derek walked in through the door wearing a soft blush pink sweater that fit him perfectly and faded blue jeans that hugged his thighs in all the right places.

So really, he couldn’t be blamed for stopping mid sentence to turn and gape and stare.

Keep reading

Prompt #7 "I'm not blushing!"

Magnus opened his eyes slowly, giving them time to adjust to the morning sunlight that flooded his bedroom, bathing the room in a warmth that Magnus could feel even when he was tucked under numerous blankets.

As he woke, he realized a handful things. One, he still had his makeup on from the day before, so he curled a finger and let blue mist remove it for him. Two, he was only wearing a pair of black boxers, which he was positive weren’t his because he only owned tight boxer-briefs. Three, this was his and his boyfriend’s first morning waking up next to each other.

Magnus grinned at Alec’s sleeping face, only about a foot away from his own. Alec looked so peaceful when he slept, his features soft and his lips slightly parted. His dark hair was messy, but still looked as soft as a cloud, and Magnus couldn’t help but lift his hand to brush a piece away from Alec’s forehead.

Shadowhunters were light sleepers, Magnus knew, they had to be. Threats could rise at any time, and they had to be alert and ready to spring into action. So Magnus wasn’t surprised when Alec’s beautiful hazel eyes fluttered open and landed on him.

Alec’s smile was blinding. He looked absolutely stunning with his messy hair and sleep-clouded eyes and light stubble covering his jaw. Magnus took a mental picture, wanting to save that image for the rest of his immortal life.

Neither of them said anything. Magnus had shifter closer tangling his legs with his shadowhunter’s, placing a gentle hand on the soft black fabric covering Alec’s chest.

“Good morning.” Alec finally said, and damn, Magnus practically melted at how deep and throaty his voice sounded.

“It is, indeed.” Magnus replied with a smile. He probably looked like a lovestruck dork, but that’s exactly what he was, so he couldn’t care less.

Alec closed what little space was left between them, pressing a soft, close-mouthed kiss to Magnus’ lips. Magnus returned the kiss, tried to get Alec to part his lips, but his boyfriend’s lips stayed stubbornly pressed together.

The look that Magnus gave when they parted seemed to ask the question he’d been about to voice, because Alec shyly looked down at Magnus’ chest and said, “Morning breath.”

Magnus laughed, and Alec looked at him strangely before he lifted his hand. With a simple flourish and a few blue sparks, both of their mouths tasted of mint.

A wide grin spread across Alec’s face. “I love you.” He said as he leaned in again, this time parting his lips as he captured Magnus in a passionate kiss.

Neither of them had intentions of their kiss getting so heated, but things led to other things, and within minutes, Alec had pulled Magnus on top of him and Magnus was trying to get Alec’s shirt off.

Alec broke away from the kiss, and from the feeling of it, Magnus knew that Alec hadn’t wanted to.

“I have to be at the Institute in fifteen minutes.” Alec huffed out a strangled breath as Magnus attached his lips to the side of his neck.

“A lot can be done in fifteen minutes.” Magnus purred into his boyfriend’s ear, a hand sneaking down Alec’s body.

Alec seemed to give in for a few minutes. Magnus continued to work on Alec’s neck, paying extra attention to his sensitive Deflect rune, but Alec suddenly pulled away.

“I really have to go,” Alec started, shifting out from underneath Magnus. “As much as I want to…you know…do that,” he began, standing up. “I know that once we start, I won’t want to stop.”

Magnus took a minute to look his love over, a smirk on his face. Alec was wearing a black shirt, as usual, and a pair of loose forest green sweatpants. He rolled out from under the covers and stood up out of bed, Alec’s black boxers loose on his hips, threatening to fall down at any second.

“Go do your job, Mr. Lightwood.” Magnus smirked, moving to stand in front of Alec, who automatically moved to wrap his strong, runed arms around Magnus’ waist.

“I’ll call you later, promise,” Alec said before ducking down to peck Magnus on the lips. “One more thing before I go, though.”

Magnus was confused. He tilted his head to the side as Alec removed one arm from around his waist, bringing his hand up to brush a piece of un-styled hair out of his face.

“Your eyes are beautiful.”

Magnus froze. He hadn’t even realized that he didn’t have his glamour up. Had his warlock mark been showing the entire morning?

Then he remembered Alec looking at him so lovingly, Alec kissing him good morning, Alec smiling at him like he was the most gorgeous thing in the universe. All while his cat-eyes were unglamoured.

A deep blush creeped up Magnus’ neck, coloring his cheeks, making him feel hot.

“Your blush is also pretty beautiful, just saying.” Alec said with a lopsided grin, pressing a kiss to Magnus’ flaming cheek.

“I’m not blushing!” Magnus exclaimed, eyes on the ground, but he was smiling.

This all felt like a dream. His whole relationship with Alec felt like a dream, actually, too good to be true. He’d never felt this loved in his entire life. None of the 17,000 other lovers made Magnus feel the way that Alec made him feel. Alec accepted him for who he was, he wasn’t thrown off by his warlock mark, he treated Magnus with respect that he’d never received from any other shadowhunter.

When Magnus finally looked back up, his eyes still unglamoured, he saw Alec staring at him. There was so much love in his gaze, so much adoration in his smile.

And Magnus knew, right then, that Alec was the love of his life.


(wow, this got a bit out of hand in length, sorry!! i hope that you like it! check out my prompts post and inbox me prompts that you’d like me to write!!)

anonymous asked:

I wonder if Dark's neck is broken and his magic keeps it from getting worse. Maybe thats why Dark does the neck thing. Damien said did say that our body (now Dark's) is broken and we did fall from the stairs while looking up . . Now I'm just imagining Dr. Iplier doing a check up on Dark only to find his neck broken and maybe a few other things as well.

((Now, I have a few of my own wonderances for this that are different, but then you went and mentioned my doctor boy and damn it I like the way you think, mysterious configuration of being. Did you intend for this to become a thing? Because it is now. And sorry this took so long. It wasn’t quite turning out the way I wanted it to - in fact, I think it’s a god awful mess - but I hope you enjoy anyway!))

Warnings: Minor Graphic Detail, Mild Blood


It had started when Dark felt something move up into his lungs. It had been subtle, ignorable, and there had been no pain, not that something like him could feel any such physicalities anymore, so he had let it go in favor of getting on with his day. There had been much to do, idiots to manage, and the awareness had completely faded into the ether when there had been yet another kitchen fire that he personally had to see to.

And there the notion remained, until a cough brought it right back.

It was nothing; just something thoughtless, knee-jerk, and while he didn’t cough often if ever, it was still very ignorable. It twinged, like an itch from the inside, but a single, quiet cough was more than enough to alleviate the feeling once more. He didn’t have time for it. If King left one more peanut butter covered pinecone in the ceiling again, he was going to kick the pseudo monarch out for good. And Artiplier too for teaching that to him.    

But it as the day wore on, so too did the coughing become more common. He kept it subtle, having to mindfully push the feeling down now, because goddamn it Wilford had let Silver leap off another building again while he filmed it and, while the injuries this time were trivial, he was going to break something again, if he didn’t just outright kill himself next time and - are you even listening Wilford?

The pastel being had been giving him a strange look the entire time during his tirade and, at first he had chalked it up to the flippant man not listening as per usual, but it was only now in the irritated silence that he could hear exactly what was wrong.

Dark had been coughing the entire time.  

Suddenly, the itch was back with a vengeance, and he wasn’t sure when he had turned away with his mouth in his hands, racking coughs shaking his entire form, but there he was, hunched over with his back to Wilford as he desperately tried to get it under control. He felt a steadying hand on his back, heard his name called a few times in obvious concern, but his ears were filled with a high pitched ring that grew and cancelled all other noise until, with pop he felt more than heard, something within him finally gave. He choked suddenly, nearly gagging, as he felt something solid move up his throat to land sharply his tongue. It tasted sweet and smokey.

And metallic.

It took a short time and after a few seconds of aftershocks, his form stilled as the urge finally faded away. As the ringing died down, he could finally hear Wilford ask about his health again with a level of concern he hadn’t heard in ages from him, but, for the time being Dark could only ignore it, taking a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and spitting into it. He only saw for a moment before he pinched the cloth closed, hiding the object and everything that came with it from Wilford. But it had been more than enough for he himself to notice one very concerning detail.  

Everything had been red.

He straightened up, quickly pressing the kerchief into his breast pocket in a single subtle movement as he fixed his suit - giving his neck a quick readjust as well - before sparing Wilford a glance and a few words of comfort as he excused himself. He could see out the corner of his eye as Wilford looked like he wanted to persist, but Dark was out of sight before the pink ego could get out another word.

And it was here and now he found himself in the doctor’s office, perched upon the man’s own rolling stool instead of one of the many available beds - Wilford may have been content to let his legs dangle like a child, but Dark refused to be so undignified - waiting as the doctor looked over the proffered cloth with a scrutinizing eye. He was hemming and hawing and it was beginning to irk the already rather keyed-up demon, but before Dark could offer the physician a single chance to shut up or else, the doctor turned around to face him with an interesting level of curiosity in his eyes.

“Well?” Dark prompted, hands folded over his crossed knees, his posture stiff as it usually was, even if the reasons weren’t the same.

“I’d say this is part of a bullet,” The doctor offered in return, holding the now clean piece out to him in a pair of surgical tweezers. It was chalky grey in color. “This came out of you?”

“I don’t supposed I’d be here if it didn’t,” Dark quipped back flatly, but his interest had been piqued. A bullet fragment? When had he been…

Oh. Right.

“Fair enough. Who had the mettle to shoot you anyway? Was it Wilford?” The question was flippant, joking even, though with an undertone of implication because honestly the doctor had seen that particular instance more often than not, but it still hit Dark like an open palmed slap to the face. He could already feel the memories stirring, some of which did not even belong to him, and it took everything within him not to let his shell crack in that particular moment because if it did, he knew the consequences would be far more dire than with what had become the normal variety.

However, in a multitude of seconds that felt like an eternity, Dark managed to quell the feelings and disguise them as a single, solitary, disinterested sigh. At least, he hoped it came across that way.    

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I suppose not,” The doctor relented, either ignoring or oblivious to Dark’s pause as his attention returned to the lead fragment. Ignorance really was bliss. “But it obviously didn’t happen recently. See the flaky grey on the surface here? It’s started to corrode, which only happens after a long time exposure to types of alkali which doesn’t really - ”

“Correct,” Dark interrupted curtly, not at all interested in a chemistry lesson. “It wasn’t recent, but why is it happening now?”

Dr. Iplier shrugged, looking mildly put off for being interrupted, but true to his apathetic nature he let it go and pressed on. “Sometimes things just remain unmoved inside the body for years. I’d imagine it may have just been close by and, for whatever reason, just didn’t show itself until now. More to the concerning point, there are probably more in you that you aren’t aware of. Would you permit an x-ray?”

Now there was a question Dark hadn’t prepared himself for. It seemed absurd that he was thrown by such a simple request, and yet he couldn’t help balking about it all the same. What would be captured on that photo? What could be captured on that photo? He couldn’t afford to end the doctor if something more than what was currently happening turned up. The physician was quite the invaluable resource after all, especially for his blatant disregard of prying details. But all the same, it would be handy to know if this could potentially happen again, especially in front of others.

Especially in front of Will.

And it was with that argument that the demon finally begrudgingly agreed.

It was a surprisingly quick process and Dark was back in the stolen chair sans suit jacket and tie after just a few minutes. And it was only a few more before the doctor was shoving two freshly printed sheets of film into place on the light board before flicking the switch to illuminate them.

Now that was quite a sight. Seeing a set of bones and organs that he knew he himself had shaped was a curious thing, especially with the previous wonderance that, while his outward appearance may have taken appropriate form, his inward one may not have. And while he realized this was a silly contradiction, it had still held concern in his mind for a secret that nobody else could ever know about. Thankfully though, this didn’t seem to be the case.

But ever more curious were the lit up white spots speckled throughout his abdomen, and he couldn’t help but stare. He counted at least five, and none as big as the one that had so rudely extricated itself from him earlier. They didn’t even seem to be near anything necessarily vital either.

Not that that fact mattered anymore really.

So absorbed was he that he didn’t notice the doctor turn to him with a new level of concern, and Dark most probably would have continued to disregard him had he not made a rather urgent and out of place sounding request.

“Turn around,” The doctor demanded suddenly, his face taking on a panicky sort of grimness.

“Pardon?” Dark returned, surprised to find himself lost. That didn’t happen often.

“Turn around,” Dr. Iplier said more slowly, but with no less urgency than before. “I need to see your neck.”

“Whatever for?” Dark had an inkling exactly what for.    

“See this vertebra here?” The doctor impatiently poked his finger into the very top of the second x-ray, right next to his neck and that’s when Dark saw it. Damn. “That’s supposed to be nestled up to the bottom of your skull. Not to mention all these little white lines running everywhere else are microfractures.”

“And?” Dark asked with an air of disinterest.  

“Dark,” Dr. Iplier beseeched with exasperated concern. “Your neck’s broken.”

There was a beat before the demon responded with a simple and very dry, “Yes, I’m acutely aware.”

“And you’ve just been living this way?” That was a funny way to put it, but Dark refrained from commenting. “What the hell happened to you?”

The silence that followed was filled only with the hum of the x-ray display light.

Now that was a loaded question, and with the doctor looking down at him now with all the concern of a close friend, with almost the same face to match, it was reminding him too much of times he wanted to forget.

Times of when, during late nights at the office, a bespectacled face would just appear at the other end of his desk in the way only he could, wearing a knowing smile and bearing something to eat because he would often forget.

Times when that same face was sad for some unknown reason that just could not be spoken about, so he took it upon himself to cheer the man up with silly antics the same way he did for him.

Times where he would get so angry he would yell at the man just to come back later to apologize only to realize that no offense had been taken in the first place and their friendship was just the same as it had ever been.

… A single time where that face was on the verge of breaking entirely, and Dark could see him now, reaching out as he fell, the words echoing in his ears along with a hauntingly familiar, harsh ring.

Wait, that one wasn’t his.

“It was an accident! I swear!”  

He needed to leave.  

“Nothing that matters anymore,” Dark responded briskly, standing to pick up his coat and tie from the nearby bed and throwing them on with well-practiced grace. “Thank you for your time, doctor.”

“Now hold on a damn minute,” Dr. Iplier stepped forward as if he wanted to grab Dark’s shoulder, but then thought better of it at the last second. “I can’t just let you walk out of here knowing that you could keel over at any given moment.”

“I assure you that that’s no longer a problem.” Dark waved away impatiently, already turning toward the door.

“Your neck though! And all of that uncomfortable twisting I’ve seen you do. Those readjustments can’t be good for you. Aren’t you afraid of waking up one day and being completely paralyzed?”

“I defer to my previous statement.”

The doctor made a frustrated noise. “At least let me take care of the bullet fragments. How you haven’t suffered lead poisoning by now is a miracle.”

Dark sighed, turning back to the physician with a look of impassiveness. He knew the man wasn’t exactly heartless, but Dark honestly hadn’t expected him to be so insistent about his health. “Doctor, your concern is appreciated - truly - but going by that picture, I don’t see anymore near my lungs, so you have my word that it will be fine.”

“And what will happen when it isn’t?” Dr. Iplier fired back. He was implying more than just a health issue and the acknowledgment that Dark actually was a leader in all of this wasn’t missed. 

“Then I suppose I have you to deal with the aftermath,” Dark replied wryly.

Dr. Iplier made a face. Apparently he was the only one allowed to make apathetic jokes in the face of a potential crisis. “That’s not funny. I’m not an EMT, Dark.”

“I have faith in you, doctor. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I never finished forbidding Wilford from encouraging acts of tragedy ‘for the sake of the show’ and would like to get back to it before someone else unwittingly winds up in your care.”

Dr. Iplier looked like he wanted to argue his point, but even he knew when to stop pressing - or perhaps that was just the lethargy - and he sighed, the sound heavy and laden with a weariness that Dark was all too familiar with. “Very well. Just… don’t hesitate to come back if any of it bothers you, alright?”

“You have my word.” And with that, Dark strode out with much more on his mind than he had going in. Of course the bullet would still be in there, shattered as it was. He wasn’t sure why it had never occurred to him. Just because his appearance had changed, didn’t mean the body had. It was the same principle as his unhealing neck, even if neither experience had happened to him directly. He was cursed to a nearly broken body that didn’t belong to him, held together with whatever power Celine had used and that void had bestowed upon him, physicalities stuck in a permanent state of stasis.

But he had no time for self pity. He had a building to oversee, and a goal to maintain.  

And as Dark walked purposefully down and out of the hall, he didn’t see the man he was looking for, hiding just out of sight in a nook beside the door, frozen in place with eyes wide and an otherworldly flower clutched to his barely breathing chest.

Wilford had just wanted to check on his friend. To make sure he was okay because never before had Dark’s health ever come into question, and the coughing fit had scared him so much more deeply than anything else had in a very long time. But while he was on the way to barging in, he’d heard his name and then… He’d heard everything else.

His mind swam, memories stirring in the watery depths like ancient beasts, lashing out against him a tirade of blurry and out of order images.  

A gunshot, a choke, a scream that seemed to echo from the very depths of his soul. 

He couldn’t be. He wasn’t.

The flower fell from his trembling fingers.  

He wasn’t a killer… was he?

skye07  asked:

Ohhh!!! you wrote the knitting Tony story!!!! I've been hunting that story for a long time!!! (was on a reading spree on your Tony tag, I'm having a swell of a time) So HOW ABOUT!! Someone finding or just ended up in Tony's stash room (it might be a floor if we are being honest, I would with his resources). I am salivating just imaginging the AMOUNT of yarn Tony must have collected, of all colours and types. Just, please. I would love you even more if you decide this prompt worthy~~

You mean that story I sent to bloody-bee-tea about Tony knitting? I’m surprised I haven’t written more Tony knitting, tbh. Hope you like it! Look out for under the cut!

This work can also be found on my Ao3 here.


Natasha had been investigating her new home when she stumbled into it. The room was gigantic, cube shelves covering the walls. Every single shelf had balls of yarn in it, starting with red in one corner and spreading in a circular rainbow of yarns, except for the few columns of shelves that were filled with needles, hooks, counters of some sort?

Natasha felt nervous for a reason she couldn’t explain. Perhaps because this room felt deeply personal? That the person who had set it up had taken time to organize it just right?

She stayed just long enough to tuck a gun under some soft yarn before she left. Each room needed at least one weapon hidden in it.


“Why would you ever need this in my stash?” Tony complained, shoving the gun into her hands. “You can use literally anything in there as a weapon. The straight needles can be used to stab people and the circular needles can be used as garrotes. My double-pointed needles can be used in close combat. And if your attacker is allergic to wool, he’s gonna be in for a bad time.”

Keep reading

First encounter

AN: Hey y’all, just going to warn you I suck at writing. I just want to let you know I tried my best and sorry if the writing disappoints. Also sorry for any typos, grammar or misspelled words. I’m also sorry if I didn’t translate right.

——

First day of kindergarten

 “Madre, no quiero ir!” ( Mom I don’t want to go!)

“ Tony…Por que?” Mrs. Padilla looked down at her son with curiosity. 

(Tony why?)

“Quiero quedarme contigo Mama!” Tony whined grabbing his mom’s leg as they stopped at the doorway in front of the classroom.   (I want to stay with you, Mama!)

“Sólo intente un día y ver si a ti te gusta?”   (Just try one day and see if you like it?”) Mrs. Padilla grabbed his hand from her leg and clasped it in hers. They slowly entered through the doorway of the brightly colored classroom and was met with a short blonde woman.

“Hello! What’s your name?” She asked gently but excitedly.

Tony looked up at his mom to see her nod in approval and smile down at him. He turned back to face the blonde woman and looked her in the eye.

“Tony.” 

As soon as he said his name the blonde woman’s features brightened instantly. “Nice to meet you, Tony! My name is Mrs. Jevvers! I’m going to be your Kindergarten Teacher!”

Tony’s face brightened a little.

“I already set up everything and you’re free to go around the classroom and find your desk! It should have your name on it.” She exclaimed with a bigger smile.

 He gave her a small smile and turned back to his mother who gave him a smile.

“See, you’ll be fine hijo.” She said as she gently hugged him.

Tony nodded but, he could feel his throat getting tight and his eyes start to get prickly.

She exited the embrace and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

“Adios Hijo, te amo.” (Bye son, I love you.) She cooed and waved goodbye as she exited through the door.

Tony swallowed a big lump in his throat and wiped his eyes.

Mrs. Jeevers looked down at him, sadness in her eyes.

“Tony are you ok? Your mother will come back don’t worry!”

Tony rubbed his eyes with his sleeves and nodded.

“Why don’t you go find your desk and I’ll start class soon!” She smiled trying to brighten his mood.

“Yes, mam.”

He left the blonde teacher alone and went over to where the desk where on the other side of the room. He glanced for his name as he made his way around the groups of desks. His eye instantly caught the bold red name tag with the letters TONY written in neat handwriting.

He pulled out his chair and sat down next to a bigger brown haired freckled boy.

The boy looked over at him and smiled. 

“My name’s Jonathan, what’s yours?”

“Tony.”

“COOOL! Like Tony Stark from Iron Man?!.”

Tony hesitated and nodded.

“WICKED!”

The brunette proceeded to talk about Iron Man as the rest of the kids entered the classroom to get dropped off by their parents.

When all of the parents were gone Mrs. Jeevers clapped her hands to get the classes attention.

“Hello class, I'm Mrs. Jeevers and I’m going to be your teacher for the rest of the year!” She said with a big grin.

The class giggled and grinned.

“I’m going to call each of your names off so I can do attendance and when I do call your name I want you to stand up and tell us something fun you like to do!”

The class whispered and nodded.

“Adrian Hall?” She called.

“That’s me! I like to play with my legos!” A freckled red headed boy raised his hand and smiled showing off his toothy grin.

Mrs. Jeeveres smiled and continued calling names. Tony zoned out until he heard his name get called.

“Tony Padilla?”

He raised his hand.

“And what do you like to do Mr. Padilla?”

Tony thought as hard as he could until he figured it out.

“I like to play with cars!”

Mrs. Jeeveres smiled and checked off his name.

Mrs. Jeevers continued to call off names until she was done.

“Did I forget anyone?” She asked looking around the class.

“Mrs. Jeevers, you forgot me.” A quiet sheepish voice called from behind Tony.

Tony turned around till he was in eye contact with a small brunette boy with blue eyes.

“Whoever said that could you please raise your hand?”

The small brunette boy slowly raised his hand embarrassedly as all eyes in the class were on him.

“What’s your name, young man?” Mrs. Jeevers asked with another one of her bright smiles.

“Clay. Clay Jensen.”

Tony quickly realized he was still staring at the brunette and quickly flashed his eyes somewhere else in the room in embarrassment.

“Nice to meet you, Clay! What do you like to do for fun?” She asked calmly.

Clay hesitated to get the words out of his mouth.

“I like to um…um..watch TV!.” He blurted out.

Everyone in the class except Tony giggled at him.

Clays cheeks slowed turned from a rosy red to a deep scarlet.

The teacher also giggled at him.

“I like to do that too Mr. Jensen.” She beamed as she made a mark on the attendance list.

“Anyone else?”

No one in the class answered.

“Ok that should be everyone!”She replied quickly.

“Could everyone please go sit around the chair? I’m going to read you guys a story!”

The class whooped in excitement and stampeded over to the rocking chair. Tony got up to follow them but stopped when he noticed Clay was standing little ways away from the group of chatty kids. The small hispanic boy quickly took notice of how the other boy fidgeted in his spot and looked over to the group in nervousness and proceeded to stare down at his shoes.

Tony thought about his options. He scratched his head of hair and made up his mind. Tony went away from the group and up to the shorter boy. He stuck out his hand.

“Hi, my name is Tony.” He smiled one of the brightest he could muster.

The other boy smiled bashfully, revealing a set of pearly white teeth with one missing middle tooth.

Tony could feel his heart start to speed up and his cheek start to get hot. 

He questioned himself internally on it but, ignored it when the soft-spoken boy whispered out.

“Hi! My name is Clay.”

anonymous asked:

I'm so sorry for bothering you but I am so afraid. I feel like i've set myself up for a major disappointment with Jonsa. With the leaks being accurate and Jon leaving Winterfell so soon meaning no interaction with Sansa after episode 2, an onslaught of attacks and even that recent pic of a cold af Sansa (she should at least be a bit emotional) etc. i feel as if I Probably was delusional or misinterpreting. You're someone i admire and all, so can ya help out a fellow depressed shipper?

Going to say this real quick, before my answer, if anyone has anything to add I highly suggest and support you do! 

*Disclaimer: While I do have proof in what I have voiced here, it is an opinion of sorts, or a suggestion/thought/implication, meaning I could be entirely wrong. Please do not take this as evidence that Jonsa will happen, because we don’t know what will happen. I don’t want y’all to get your hopes up because of meta such as this. However, thank you for reading and getting excited alongside me!*

Hey anon, you’re definitely not bothering me and don’t feel bad (Get ready, because this is long as hell). I think we all set ourselves up for disappointment for hoping a relationship as great as Jon and Sansa might come true. I myself and still coming to terms with it, because it wasn’t an accident, I feel like D&D purposely did this and it’s only getting worse this season- and it’s only the first episode. We have Soap and Drama directors looking at these scene’s in both confusion and understanding because it does come across romantic. 

And honestly, while a great deal of spoilers were correct, the context was completely wrong. We only have scenes, not dialog and what truly happens. We were told Jon would embarrass and yell at Sansa in front of the Lords and that would only drive them apart, but you know what we got instead? A small argument and immediately thereafter Sansa praising Jon for being a great King, telling him he is the furthest from Joffrey (look at @kitten1618x post about heir conversation and what it means, that should help sooth you)  she has ever met (Her first romantic option was an arsehole, all of them are, and they’re supposed to be knights- well guess who is there beside her right now that is ‘brave, gentle, and strong’, the furthest from Joffrey- he’s being compared to her last love interest. You don’t do that to brothers, sorry). 

When he tries to keep his distance from her she grabs is hand, again, and they focus on it like in season six. That’s not a coincidence. While Jon is still having a hard time trusting her, we can see Sansa reaching out and trying to help him despite that. And then there’s the distance he keeps from her, refusing to look at her, not wanting to touch her, the look he gives her when she does touch him and hold onto him? He looks both nervous and concerned- kind of scared or sick. 

I have a simple response to that. Jon’s already in love with her (Refer to this meta for a better introduction to that and how it works, lmao). Last season we saw him trying to dissect her, figure her out, and on the last episode it all seems to crash down on him. 

Originally posted by greengableslover

Originally posted by daughterofwinterfell

Sansa is not only the girl who left her tower, per say, she’s fighting to get it back. She is both aggressive, head strong, but intelligent. She also keeps her skirts/silks (lmao, this is important because he wanted his last lover in a dress just like hers), both Stark colored and Tully, and we have Blackfish compare her to Cat while many compare Jon to Ned- both in looks and attitude- we know Jon likes softer woman who keep their strength alongside them, and that’s exactly what she’s become, ‘lovely, lonely, lethal’ and has the appearance he is most attracted to. So this season he’s suddenly cold towards her despite wanting to protect her last season, claiming he wouldn’t let anyone touch her again, he fucking promised and asked Mel not to bring him back if he failed, because that meant Sansa would be dead and he broke his promise to her. 

That’s the intentions of a knight, a man who wishes to protect his princess and keep her from harm. They went through so much together already, their heated arguments, returning to Winterfell, sharing each other’s emotions while still learning who they are to each other? 

You’re (D&D) telling me after all that he’s cold towards her because she gave her opinion just like everyone else? Not wanting her advice or to touch her, while she is warm and welcoming and finally comfortable around the one man who has treated her with care? 

He’s guilty. 

Not only that but the comparison’s between Jon/Sansa and Cat/Ned have gotten so ridiculously apparent even pure show watchers are questioning what is happening. Not only is her hair much like her mothers, and the color scheme is the exact same between the four, it’s after an argument. Cat and Ned fight over Bran’s age and Sansa and Jon fight over him listening to her (both topics also revolve around a child and his/her maturity)- Ned is literally refusing Cat’s argument in that scene just as Jon is with Sansa. 

Then they show she is also coming across much like Cersei, the juxtaposition between that couple (Jaime/Cersei) and Jon and Sansa happens in the same scene, side by side, and they talk about one another. 

It isn’t a coincidence either that Jon is revealed as her cousin after he kisses her, an intimate moment between the two, it only sets up a great and angsty romance. Because we know but they don’t. (I would also like to mention, in the books, when Stannis asks Jon to take Winterfell and marry Val- he thinks about it, he thinks of having children with this woman, of sharing Winterfell with her, and there is a moment where her hair looks silver- but he denies her for Sansa- because Winterfell belongs to her)

And when he dies in the books, his last thought is of Sansa just like Ned’s was of Cat. Both constantly thought of their sisters (Lyanna/Arya) and how much they missed them and loved them- but when their last moment came their last thought was dedicated to someone else: Cat and Sansa. I truly think we are being led to think of them as a couple, because Sansa went from this:

Originally posted by soapieturner

to this

Originally posted by lyannas-loves

She’s harsher in the first, despite their words finally coming to fruition, and now Sansa is softening towards him.

I think Jon is already entangled in her, but now it’s her turn, and until she figures it all out we’re going to be left stuck in the middle waiting. If and when Jon and D@ny hook up it’s not going to last, that I promise. They are nothing alike, their values are so different now days, and when people call them ice and fire they’re completely and utterly wrong. Because Jon is that, he’s both, which makes him leveled. But D@ny/Dragons, they’re only one, fire, which is never good; take a look at the WW. They’re only one, ice. do you see them doing any good? Nope, nada. 

So just keep that in mind this season. Even if we were wrong we’re not delusional. I promise. If you want more information book-wise and show-wise I suggest reading meta, especially blindspot’s. 

But I’m going to tell you this, canon is not everything, D&D have the ability to ruin all that we want even if they give it to us. So I suggest you just read some wonderful fic, because right now, we’re reigning in that department! 

(Again, if you have anything to add, do it! Let’s make this a stream!)

Also, don’t forget this:

Originally posted by dreamofspring

Originally posted by patchface

and THIS

(He’s just as aggressive I might add, watch the video, they make the same face- Ned put up with LF until he insinuated something gross about Cat, so I can only imagine what LF said about Sansa, because I can’t see him getting angry for any other reason, for Jon to react that way)

Also wanted to add while GRRM isn’t against cliche he has already admitted that Targaryen’s were the reason for their own downfall, and that the incest they fumbled with is exactly why. You can take that as you will. Because as he said, incest was the fall of the Targaryen line- why have the last two get together if that’s the case?

Fluff Month Day 30 - “Unmasked”

*****
Pairing/Characters: Ladynoir/Marichat/Adrienette? (It makes sense trust me)
*****

“Beep beep beep!”

Ladybug huffed, bringing a hand up to touch her beeping earrings. She only had two minutes left.

“Chat? You still out there?” She called from inside the coat closet. The door to the closet had been jammed by an akuma, locking Ladybug inside while her partner tried to get her out AND beat the akuma at the same time.

“I’m…still here, M'lady!” He called back, a small grunt punctuating his speech as Chat slammed his body into the closet door again. “The akuma left, but it’ll be easy to find once I get…you…out!”

Ladybug looked around the small closet, trying to calm herself down. She was going to have to detransform in here. There was no way Chat could get her out in time. He had already used cataclysm. After she transformed she would have to either somehow feed Tikki, or wait until Chat unstuck the door and left. Then she could come out and find some food for Tikki before returning to the akuma as Ladybug.

“Stupid akumas,” Ladybug muttered, kicking the door again in a futile attempt to break out. Right as she kicked the door her earrings began to beep again, this time louder.

“Hold on LB! I’ll get you out!” Chat shouted. His voice was distant though, and it sounded like he was further away…

Ladybug realized, with growing panic, that he was getting a head start to run.

“No wait Chat! I’m about to detrans-”

A bright pink light filled the closet, and Ladybug squeezed her eyes shut against it right as she heard the closet doors fly open. The light faded away, but Ladybug kept her eyes shut, knowing Chat was standing RIGHT THERE, and that he was seeing Marinette. She didn’t want to see his face.

“Marinette?”

Marinette cracked an eye open, peeking up at her partner and wincing. Light from the classroom outside the closet gave Chat a kind of halo effect, and shadowed his face so that it was harder for Marinette to make out his expression. She could see his eyes though, glowing in the dark much like a cats. They were wide and unblinking, and Marinette’s stomach sank.

“I-I’m sorry. I tried to warn you…”

Marinette was cut off as Chat laughed and threw his arms around her. He pulled her out of the closet, still laughing gleefully into her hair.

“Chat? What’s so funny?”

Marinette pushed away from Chat and crossed her arms over her chest in a very Ladybug-like manner. Chat stifled his laughter, but it didn’t stop the amused glitter in his eyes and the wide smile on his face. His ring beeped, but he ignored it.

“Nothing! Nothing! It’s just, I can’t believe I didn’t realize that LADYBUG was sitting behind me in class this whole year.”

Marinette tilted her head to the side, confused, but suddenly realization dawned on her and she gasped.

“Adrien!?”

Chat nodded as his transformation gave away, revealing none other than Adrien Agreste. He stood there, smiling awkwardly as Marinette’s mouth hung open in shock.

“Are- are you going to say anything?” Adrien asked, biting his lip nervously.

Marinette stood there a moment, blinking rapidly, before laughing and jumping into Adrien’s arms. She underestimated her own force, and the two nearly toppled to the floor as Marinette wrapped her arms around Adrien’s neck and hugged him to her.

“I can’t believe this,” Marinette squeaked into Adrien’s shoulder, “you’re Chat? Chat’s you? I just…”

Marinette stepped back, holding Adrien at arms length and studying his face. How had she not seen it before? The color of his eyes, the soft smile on his face, the blonde locks of hair brushing against his forehead…

“I can’t believe I didn’t see this before,” she said softly, running a hand down the side of Adrien’s cheek.

Adrien’s eyes widened, and he moved closer to her. He kept his eyes locked with hers, brushing away her bangs and leaning in before…

“BANG!”

Both Adrien and Marinette winced and drew away from each other, turning to face the classroom door.

“The akuma,” Marinette muttered, shaking her head angrily.

“Right,” Adrien breathed out, sounding disappointed.

Marinette smirked and turned to him, extending her hand for him to take.

“Ready to beat the crap out of this one, Kitty?” She asked, a determined look on her face.

“Ready as ever, My Lady,” Adrien replied, a grin splitting across his face.

Suddenly there was a loud shout, and a black kwami zipped out of Adrien’s jacket.

“Wait! Aren’t you gonna transform first?”

“Oh. Right…”

Cloudberry Jam

Just some nessian after acowar.




Nesta picked listlessly at the food on her plate. Every now and then she took a bite. But it was only to indulge the occasional looks from her sisters. Laughter echoed through the dining room as Mor and Cassian took turns telling a story about Rhys from their childhood.

Nesta had tried to look interested at the beginning. But the first time Cassian took over from Mor, he’d looked to everyone for a reaction to his joke. Everyone but her. He’d ignored her completely. As he’d been doing since they’d survived Hybern. She’d stopped listening then, thinking only of why she’d bothered to come here at all.

The Inner Circle ate many meals together but they’d designated one night a week for a family dinner. She and Elain, having moved into a small townhouse of their own, had been included and were expected to attend. Nesta agreed only because of Elain. Unlike herself, Elain needed to be around people. Despite the horrors of the past months, her sister was beginning to thrive in Velaris. And Nesta would not jeopardize that.

But tonight. She couldn’t bare it any longer. This room. The laughing. The joy. As the noise crescendoed, she stood from her chair, setting her napkin next to her plate. Feyre glanced at her and Nesta forced a weak smile, nodding to the corridor that led to the guest washroom. Her sister smiled back, quickly returning to the story. No one else noticed her departure.

Nesta passed the washroom, continuing to the large foyer and the door that opened to the winding stairs leading down to the city. The commotion in the dining room receded and finally, she was outside, breathing a sigh of relief. It was a lovely late summer night and as she descended, she forced herself to stop every now and then and take in the views. The Rainbow was lit up, people jostling through the narrow streets as music lilted through the air. The harbor was full of ships, their bobbing just visible in the moonlight.

And the sky… She’d never seen so many stars. Like brilliant diamonds tossed across the indigo black of night. They were beautiful. And they made her feel so small. So insignificant. Her throat bobbed and she started back down the steps. Nesta did not look skyward again. No need to reinforce the bleak thoughts that always threatened to pull her under.

When she reached the turn to her street, Nesta saw someone waiting on the front steps. Her heart fluttered, until the figure rose. No wings.

Feyre held Nesta’s shawl in her hands, a strained smile on her face. “You left this.”

She reached for it and walked past Feyre to her door. A part of her wanted to say something. To explain how she couldn’t stomach being around so many people. So much happiness and… family. But the pity in Feyre’s eyes sent ice coursing through her veins.

Nesta could imagine the thoughts running through her sister’s mind. The questions she probably wanted to ask about Cassian. As if there is anything to ask about. She almost laughed at the thought. But when she spoke, all she could muster was a thank you.

“Next time, please let me know if you’re leaving,” Feyre said softly. “I could have winnowed you here. And we wouldn’t have been worried about you.”

A retort flitted through her mind but she bit it back. She didn’t have the energy or the desire to start something. So she just said, “I will.”

Nesta turned and went inside, not bothering to tell her sister there would be no next time.

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So more on Dexter Grif (season 15 episode 6 spoilers)

Remember back in season 10 when Doc was giving his speech on the good stuff that happened to everyone thanks to Project Freelancer and all adventures of the Reds and Blues? The only two people he hadn’t addressed had been Caboose – who lost Church, and Grif. It might have been because Grif got the, well, Grifshot. Or maybe because he never got what he truly wanted and… After now I think about that a lot.

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Cake

Pairing: Jim x Reader 

Word Count: 2643

Warnings: Some swearing, fluff

A/N: Wow I definitely didn’t intend for it to be that long. Also, one day I’m gonna get everything together and start making headers for these posts, but that day is not today. Today I’m going to sleep because I’m currently dying from cramps. Hope you guys enjoy, though! Also, there’s a pic of the bike I mention at the bottom of the fic if any of you are curious. 

You knocked frantically on Jim’s door. Bones was gonna kill you. A few seconds passed without answer and you pressed your ear to the door, listening for movement. Hearing nothing, you pounded on the door again.

“Jesus Jim answer the goddamn door,” you called.

If Jim could’ve yanked open the automatic door, you’re sure he would’ve. He was scowling deeply, hair sticking up in all directions - the first time you’d seen it anything less than perfect. His shirtless torso was still perfect, though, and those gray sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips were downright tantalizing.

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Coffee and Colors (Lin-Manuel x Reader)

Summary: You’re a historian who agreed to help Lin through his writer’s block. You’re taken with him immediately and spend a lot of the time being distracted by the charming company you’re keeping.

Word Count: 1,127

Warnings: y i k e s. nothing really though.

A/N: Literally, @gratitudejoyandsorrow is a blessing and patiently played my soundboard all day and @l-nmanuel is absolutely a m a z i n g. This fic would’ve found a new home in the trash bin if not for these two. 
__________________________

It was a friend of a friend, who had this friend, who knew someone who needed your assistance. They told you that he had ideas that he couldn’t possibly get down on paper without help and you were the perfect person to do it. You normally would brush the idea off but after having spent weeks pent up with your newest research paper, getting out and about didn’t seem like such a bad idea. You figured if nothing else, some fresh air and coffee out of a cup that wasn’t your Columbia University mug would do you some good.

That’s how you found yourself walking into the coffee shop that you had been instructed to be at, at the exact time you were instructed to be there. The soft chime of the bell drew a few eyes to you but no one stood up so you figured he wasn’t there yet. You took the opportunity to order coffee and find a table by the window, pulling out your notebook and scrawling down anything you thought might help the paper you were returning to tonight. 

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bharatanatyamandballet  asked:

Hi!! I was just wondering - do you have any good andreil fic recommendations?? I ADORE lessons in cartography and wanted something like that. I'm sorry to bother you if you don't read FICS!!

i haven’t yet read lessons in cartography i’m sorry :( i’ve been told there aren’t any other fics quite like it but i’m still willing to make a list of andreil fics to recommend!! thanks to all my friends who gave me more recs

* a star just means i haven’t read it but it’s been recommended to me

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Bare

there are only two possible explanations for why Lee no longer has sleeves in the Boruto-era: either he was out with baby Metal one day and didn’t realize he was out of diapers, and they were sacrificed for Metal’s baby poop - or something like this post happened. let’s explore the latter.

——

Lee did not want to get out of bed.

Popular though the desire to stay wrapped inside a blanket burrito may be, it was relatively foreign to Lee. Usually he had to be persuaded to stay in bed or still… and unconsciousness didn’t guarantee either of the two. Truly, the best way to lure him into aching to inhabit a sleep cocoon is to put a cozy, sleeping, sex-drunk Kazekage in the bed next to him.

Gaara looked so snoodly when he slept. He always curled into Lee, with his hands grabbing for any bit of his boyfriend that he could get - an arm, another hand, a nipple - anything to keep them connected. Lee didn’t make cuddling easy, since his body naturally assumed a jazz-hands star fish pose the deeper into sleep he fell, but Gaara always found some bit of skin and held on. 

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5

If you’ll only hold me tight…. Once upon a time I was falling in love, now I’m only falling apart. Once upon a time there was light in my life, now there’s only love in the dark. There’s nothing I can do- a total eclipse of the heart.

August 20th, 2017

According to the watch Pidge had, that was date. And according to her research, there would be an eclipse on Earth the next day. The first total eclipse in 99 years. If things went well, they could portal close enough to see it from the castle.

And after dinner, Lance was trying to psyche himself up to finally tell Keith how he felt. He was tired of holding in the emotions especially when Keith gave him such reassuring, soft smiles anytime Lance needed them most. Keith was a person who always had a scowl on his face if it was completely devoid of emotion. He was a person who only cared for people at a distance. He didn’t hug, he didn’t vocalize it, he didn’t show it.

But with Lance, he was different. Maybe it was in his head, maybe it was stupid, naïve optimism. But Keith had given him gentle smiles, offered comfort in the way he knew how, and protected him each time they had to fight. He was Keith’s right hand man, and his Korean crush didn’t seem to mind. He listened to Lance. He made sure Lance knew he was needed.

Ever since that talk in his room, Keith had been so different with Lance. Then Lance recognized the butterflies in his stomach when he heard Shiro telling Allura that Keith had offered to stay behind, returning the Black Lion, to help Coran. Lance knew Keith wasn’t close to Coran. Keith had done that for him. So he wouldn’t be the extra paladin. So he would still be needed. Keith lived for battle and he had offered to stay behind.

Ever since then, Lance only felt these emotions growing. With each smile that seemed especially for him, with each encouraging comment during training and after, with each chuckle and eye roll after Lance teased him lightly if only to keep up the familiar banter. He didn’t want to feed more hope into these feelings if Keith didn’t actually mean anything in those gestures. He had to at least let Keith know what he was beginning to feel before it caused problems instead of flowery, floaty feelings.

He kept pacing back and forth in the hallway trying to gather the courage to knock on his door. He fought fleets of Galra warriors, he fought mutated monsters sent after them, he defended the freaking universe. He could do this.

He couldn’t do this. He was a coward when it came to cute boys with galaxies for eyes and smiles that could melt icebergs as quickly as their glares could.

He shook his head, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment, and he started walking away. Then he heard that familiar low voice with that pleasing rasp.

“Lance?” He froze and turned to face Keith. His hair was sticking to his forehead, his shirt different shades of black where the sweat soaked through it, and he was sporting a few new bruises. He had been training. “You okay?” Lance cleared his throat. There were too many ways to answer that question. “Hey. Seriously, what wrong?”

His dark eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes worried and a bright, beautiful violet color, surrounded by eyelashes that curled so elegantly it was unfair.

It was now or never.

“Could we talk?” Keith’s eyebrows twitched lower, and he nodded, gesturing to his room. “Um, actually, can we take a walk?” Keith stopped and stared at him before nodding again and turning, waiting for him to lead the way.

Lance started walking and swallowed the nausea building in his throat. He wasn’t sure how to start. He kept opening his mouth to talk only to completely hate the way whatever he was going to say would sound.

Once they’d reached the end of the hallway and turned, Keith spoke. “You’re freaking me out, Lance. Are you okay?”

“Don’t freak out,” he said, his voice shaking. “It’s nothing serious. And I don’t think it’s bad, I guess that up for interpretation, really. I just dunno where to start or how to say it without sounding stupid, you know and I-”

“Lance, you’re not stupid,” he interrupted with that gentle voice. Lance called it his serious voice. Keith had different tones for anything he said and Lance had managed to name each of them. His angry voice, his frustrated voice, his complacent voice, his tired voice, his sad voice-which was the same low voice but with a specific expression- and this one: his serious voice. A voice he’d started using with Lance more and more in place of angry or frustrated. It was his favorite.

“Lance, what is it?”

Lance blinked and brought himself back to reality, heaving a sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m probably making this out to be way more than it is. Just give me a moment, yeah?” Keith frowned and nodded.

They walked around, feet almost automatically walking toward the training room and past it to the hangar. Keith stayed quiet, waiting on Lance.

“Um. So first, I want to say thank you. Thank you for helping me especially when I feel like I’m not good enough or I don’t belong. I never really thought you’d be someone to help me with that, but… I mean I never thought I’d be flying a giant metal lion either.” He chuckled nervously and Keith’s lip quirked up slightly in that small, sweet smile that gave Lance butterflies. He cleared his throat and tried to use that smile to ground himself. “I really appreciate all of it.” They came to a stop in front of the lions. Lance looked at Blue sadly before turning to Red. Keith was looking at her too, but there wasn’t really any specific emotion in his face.

Lance gulped and licked his lips. “Look, we’re going to be out here for who knows how long. And we’re a team. So there shouldn’t be secrets right? I… I have to tell you something. I really don’t know how you’ll take it, okay? And I’m not expecting anything specific, I just have to tell you. I don’t want you to be angry, but… I guess I understand if you do get angry so-”

“Lance,” Keith said with a hand on his arm. “Breathe,” he encouraged. “What is it?”

He looked at him with concern, and Lance could feel the soft humming purr of his new lion in his head. He wondered if Keith could still hear her too. He couldn’t hear Blue. But Red seemed to be gently encouraging him. The purr was comforting, and Lance was filled with a distant calming emotion. It would be okay.

Lance took a breath, looked Keith in the eyes, and clenched his jaw. Then, in a single breath, he said, “I think I like you.”

There was no explosion. No burst of realization. No gasp, no look of disgust or joy. The only change on Keith’s face was a slight eyebrow raise, and the subtle parting of his lips. He never broke the eye contact.

“You're… not joking.” Lance pressed his lips together and shook his head slowly. “When you say ‘like,’ you mean….”

“A crush. Feelings. Romantic ones. Yeah,” he answered not really sure how to respond to this… unresponsive reaction.

“Oh.” He kept staring at Lance and the blush that spread across his cheeks spread so slowly, Lance almost didn’t notice. “That's… new. I’m not usually… um, likable I guess.” He finally looked away and Lance realized he could breathe. “Um… since when? Why?” He seemed so genuinely confused. Like the idea that Lance liked him wasn’t bizarre, but the fact that someone could was.

Lance felt a little less horrible and shrugged. “I can’t say for sure when. But… because of how much you care. Even if not in the most obvious ways, you just… you managed to make me feel like I mattered. And you’re inspiring. You’re dedicated and determined and you don’t just brush me off you know? Keith… I really admire you. From the way you’re ridiculously fearless and the way you stepped up to lead Voltron. It’s just…. I don’t know I just started getting all of these giddy feelings when I’d see you or when you’d smile at me the way do. I feel like I think clearer around you, I'm… better around you. But I’m also a mess.” He chuckled and shrugged. “I just really like being around you and the fact that I can talk to you without feeling stupid because you make sure I don't… feel that way.”

He looked up and saw Keith’s red face and wide eyes looking at him. “O-oh. Oh. Oh.” Lance gulped. Red, I might have broken him. He heard the low rumble of laughter in his head. Keith finally took a breath and managed to stammer out actual sentences. “I’ve kind of never been good with people. Relationships and stuff… it’s weird. Friendships, I mean. I just… I don’t really get the dynamic, you know, I’m used to being alone.”

Lance felt his heart sink, but he smiled and nudged him gently. “Hey. I told you; it’s cool, I don’t expect anything, I just wanted to tell you. Don’t think I’m trying to-”

“No, no, no,” Keith interrupted, waving his hands frantically. “I’m not saying…. I just mean…. I don’t think I’m the best person to get a crush on. But… this idea is… it feels, um, right? It just… makes sense.” Lance tilted his head in confusion and Keith gulped. “I mean… maybe I can learn. And maybe….”

Lance took a sudden breath, realizing what he meant. There was a chance? A possibility? Did Keith feel the same way? Could he?

Keith groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Just give me a tick to string my thoughts into coherent sentences, okay? Here, come on.” He sat by Red’s paw and started chewing his nails. Lance sat in front of him awkwardly. “None of what I wanted to say came out right,” he breathed. He cleared his throat and sighed. “I’m still learning to take social cues and… I’m still learning to trust friends, and getting used to what it’s like to have friends. So it’s surprising to me that someone like you would like me.”

Lance frowned and scooted away slightly. “Someone like me?” he repeated.

Keith nodded. “Lance, you’re way more level-headed than me. You’re in touch with your emotions. You wear your heart on your sleeve and I… well I build walls around mine. I-I should be the one admiring you. And… um. Well I never really… thought about letting myself be interested in someone but maybe… I guess it kind of just clicked when the possibility of liking a guy came up. I…. Maybe with a little time or something, I-”

Lance placed a hand on his arm. “Hey Keith. Breathe,” he said with a smile. Keith smiled back at him, his cheeks dusted with red. “We’ll figure it out together, yeah?”

“That’d be nice,” he answered softly. “Thank you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Um…. Well, for now, I’m your right-hand man. You know that, right?”

Keith smiled and nodded. “Perfect. I’m going to go ahead and go to bed. I’m really tired,” he said with a light laugh.

Lance nodded and gestured for them to leave the hangar.

They’d barely made it one step out when the castle jostled, toppling them over and sirens rang in their ears. “What the-?”

“We’re getting attacked,” Keith realized, his voice dropping lower, his laughter gone. In its place a determined, angry expression. “Get your armor and your lion.” Lance nodded and raced off to tug on his armor. The original paladins really should have thought about making them a little more efficient.

He went to the red lion who had lost all the playful purrs and replaced with vicious, menacing growls. Lance went in, sitting at his pilot’s seat before flying her out of the castle. The black and blue lions were already out. Pidge and Hunk followed quickly after, and the particle barrier flew up around the castle, flickering after the damage it took to the system.

There were several Galra planes with ion blasters aimed toward them.

“We don’t have time to form Voltron,” Keith growled. “We have to knock out most of the defenses. If we can, try to pinpoint Lotor’s. If not, at least get rid of enough so Coran and Shiro can distract them long enough for us to form,” Keith commanded. His voice was certain, level, no rush, only determination.

“Roger that.”

“On it!”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“You got it.”

The lions spread out and a variety of colors began to paint the small part of the universe they were in. Blue, red, yellow, green, dark and light purple, white. All the beams and weapons shot across the sky creating a beautifully terrifying picture. The sounds of crashing metal, explosions, and weapons filled the silence. It was incredible to think that this was happening while the rest of the universe remained oblivious.

Pidge had taken a particularly hard hit, and Hunk spent half the time acting as her second armor while fending off his own Galran ships. Allura and Lance managed to work together to shoot down some of the Galras, but more took their place. Shiro and Coran were sending their own hits from the castle but it wouldn’t be long before the castle was surrounded by ion blasters and shot down if the paladins could make them retreat soon.

Of course, Keith had noticed and apparently decided to dive headfirst. Lance saw his lion speeding toward Lotor’s main battleship, the jaw blade slicing through any ship that came toward him and ducking any blasts shot his way.

“Keith! What are you doing?” Lance shouted into the comm.

“I’m cutting the head off this hydra,” he answered, his voice tight and angry.

“It’s dangerous to go al-”

“I’m already here, Lance,” Keith interrupted. “Keep fighting. All of you.”

Lance could barely keep himself focused knowing Keith was heading right into the belly of the beast. Suddenly he was knocked aside and Allura shot an ice ray at two enemy ships that had aimed at Lance. “Focus, Lance,” she chided.

“Someone has to help Keith,” he said.

“What?” she nearly shrieked. But Lance was already starting for Lotor and the black lion.

Come on, Red. I know you can do this.

Red seemed to snarl in response, moving quicker and smoother, dodging blasts, nearly controlling Lance’s body as he shot his magma beam until they reached the platform of Lotor’s ship. He was horrified to see Keith wasn’t even in his lion anymore.

“Keith what are you doing?” he shouted, not bothering to be subtle. “Get in your lion!”

“I’m in,” he answered softly. He was sneaking in. But did he really think Lotor wouldn’t know he was there? “He’s in range…. It would help if I had my sharpshooter, you know?”

Lance felt terror grip his throat. Too close, he was too close to danger. “Keith,” he said firmly. “Don’t do this. Get back in the lion.”

“Lance, I have a chance to end this. I’m taking it. Are you helping or-” There was a series of noises that none of the paladins knew what to make of.

“Keith?” Pidge shouted. “You there?”

“Are you okay, Keith?” Allura asked, her voice calm, but Lance knew her well enough to know her face would be panicked.

“Coran, Shiro, can you pick up his vitals?” Lance asked in a panic.

“He’s there. They must have knocked the helmet off, but he’s okay. I got his heartbeat on the system,” Shiro said.

“He’s surrounded by five Galra,” Coran added.

Lance growled under his breath and grit his teeth. “I told him,” he muttered as he left his lion.

“Lance what are you doing, dude?” Hunk shouted. “We can’t have you in danger too, get back in!”

“Sorry, big guy. He’d do the same if I was in there. I’m pulling him out by the ear,” he promised.

“Be careful, Lance,” Pidge warned before grunting, possibly in response to another attack. “Hunk!”

Lance shut them out and dipped into the ship, noting that there was a severe lack of security. He slinked through hallways, heart pounding like hummingbird wings. “Guys, can I get a location?” he whispered into his comm.

“Two more hallways down, turn right, second opening. It’s the control room,” Coran answered. “Have your shield up, my boy.”

“Got it,” Lance answered, sprinting closer. There were no guards. No cameras. No trip wires or booby traps.

Then he heard it. The fighting, the lack of mercy, the painful screams that made Lance’s blood freeze. He raced into the room, in time to shoot at a large Galra with tufts on the side of her head before she could get a hold of Keith. Keith looked over in surprise and seemed relieved when he saw Lance.

“I told you-!” Lance cut off when he saw another Galra, this one cloaked, coming toward him. There were no facial features- no eyes, no mouth, no nose. He stepped back and tripped over something. He felt a gentle pressure on his chest and opened his eyes. A cat. It was a cat.

Before he could shove it off, the blank faced Galra leapt onto him, hand clutching his throat without mercy.

He heard a growl, and he could see Keith in his peripheral vision. His blade was a blur, his body agile, moving where it had to, light as he jumped and turned and kicked. Lance gripped the Galra’s wrist and  thrust his elbow up to hit her in the chin, causing her to jump back. Lance aimed his blaster at her, scowling as sher tilted her head, and the cat hissed and flicked its tail.

“Move!” Keith shouted, gripping his arm and dragging him back as a beam blasted the ground where he’d been standing.

“If you’d listened to me, this wouldn’t be happening!”

“But I didn’t and it is, you really want to have this argument now?” he snapped, as he stood back to back with him, eyeing the Galra generals. There was a pink one with colorful markings and a childish smile standing in front of Lance. She didn’t look Galran at all. Not like the others. In fact, Lance could imagine himself trying to hit on to her if they’d met on a different planet.

“They brought two of the kitties!” she said happily. As if there wasn’t a full-blown battle underway.

“I thought so,” a deep, musical voice purred. Lance let his eyes drift where he saw movement, his hand tensing around the trigger of his blaster. He saw a Galran with stark white hair and yellow eyes with purple irises like Keith’s and an angular face. Lotor.

He seemed so calm, so at ease.

“Can we kill them yet?” the one with tufts growled. “I want the tall one,” she snarled, baring her teeth.

“Patience,” Lotor said almost lazily. “Narti. Bring the lions aboard.” The cloaked one slinked away.

“You take two I take two?” Lance whispered. He heard Keith huff in response. Then he heard an angry shriek as Keith lunged forward and brought his blade down on a human-esque Galra. The only thing that showed she was Galra was her skin tone and the ridges on her head. The violent one lunged at Lance, but he managed to duck and roll out of the way, coming up on one knee to shoot, the force of the blow throwing her against Lotor.

“Oh, you’re cute!” the pink one said, flipping him upside down with the strange tail growing out of her head like a fleshy ponytail. Then she threw him against the wall.

“Lance!” Keith shouted. He shoved the Galra aside and started for the pink one who danced around him with a musical laugh, moving as quickly as Keith. Lance pulled himself up and shot at the other Galra. Lotor scowled as the taller one blocked the hits with a large piece of metal.

“Let’s go!” he snapped. “We have the lions. These two are useless.” The pink one managed a graceful backflip back towards Lotor, leaving Keith breathless as he glared. “Acxa. Make sure the fleets pull back. We can get the other lions another day.” The humanoid one nodded and slipped away, casting a final glare at them, reminding Lance of Keith.

As the metal started coming down, Lance shot again, shoving the unsuspecting Galra back. She growled, but Lance kept his blaster levelled with his eyes, ready to shoot again.

Lotor scowled and looked at them with contempt. “I’m feeling generous, paladins. Leave. Your services are no longer needed.” He smirked and turned away as if the fact that both Lance and Keith had weapons meant nothing to him. The other two followed.

As much as Lance wanted to go after them, he knew it would be futile. They could barely fight them off last time when they were all together and now Lotor was there too. He gripped Keith’s arm and tugged him. “Let’s go. We’ll figure out how to get the lions back,” he said. He had to call for one of the others to come get them and take them back to the Castle of Lions.

Then Lotor’s voice echoed through the control room. “Oh, and Zethrid? Get the bayards.”

Just like that the Galra was on them, all growls and angry hits, tossing Lance aside like a rag doll as she wretched the blaster from his hands. He saw spots in his vision for a few seconds before he could process Keith shouting his name again.

When his sight refocused, he saw Keith slicing his blade down, pushing Zethrid’s growling figure back, back, back. She lifted the blaster, but that was a long range weapon. Keith was fighting too close, moving too quickly.

Lance heard more commotion, heard more fighting. Had the others come to help? One had called back the other fleets. The paladins were free to help. Maybe they could still win.

Lance saw the blue blast fill the room before he heard it. He turned, shrieking for Keith in a panic, stumbling forward to find him. Then he heard a defiant yell and the sound of a blade being impaled. There was an angry roar and Lance saw Keith’s blade shoved into Zethrid’s side. She shoved him back, hitting him with the butt of the blaster before stumbling away, panting for breath.

“Keith? Keith!” Lance shouted. Half of him wanted to hug Keith, and half of him wanted to yank him by the ear. But the second he saw him still standing, he decided to go with the former. He struggle to get onto his feet and threw his arms around Keith, pulling him in tightly as he was flooded with relief. His limbs began to shake from the adrenaline coursing through him. “Oh thank God you’re okay.”

“L-Lance?” he croaked.

“I’m right here,” he said. Keith’s arms came around him, then he slumped, and Lance staggered before he could regain his grip. “Keith?”

“That blaster hurts so quiznacking much,” he wheezed. His eyes were glazed over, struggling to focus on Lance. Lance’s eyes went wide and he let them trail down. The white armor at his chest was smeared with crimson blood. Blood that kept flowing out from the the black nylon just under the slope of the armor, glistening in the most sickening way as it pulsed out of him. He had been hit too close.

Lance fell to his knees, cradling Keith gently and shook his head. “No, no, no. You’re gonna be okay, okay? Focus on me. Look at me. Look at me.” Keith’s violet eyes flickered to him, blinking rapidly. Lance was vaguely aware of the fighting happening outside the room. “The others are here. They’ll be here soon okay, just hold on. Keith, talk to me. Please.”

“It- hurts,” he choked, his face contorting, his body spasming in Lance’s arms. His eyes stayed on him. “Ev-everything hurts.” He gasped for air and coughed, causing blood to sputter out and dribble down the corner of his mouth. “I-I should’ve… li-listened to you.”

“Yeah, you think so?” Lance answered, his voice weak and breaking as he held Keith. “It’s okay. We’ll patch you up and put you in a healing pod and then when you’re out, I’m going to hound you for this. I’ll put you in time out and everything. You’re officially grounded.” Keith’s mouth quirked, but instead of sending butterflies through Lance, it caused terrified goosebumps. His eyes were too distant. The blood was bright against his pale, sweaty face. Lance gulped and held him tighter. “Then we’ll go see the eclipse. We can sit together. Drink space juice and watch and pretend none of this ever happened,” he continued with a soft, weak voice. He wasn’t sure he believed himself.

“Sounds… like… a date,” he breathed. His breaths were short and his grip was losing strength as he clung to Lance. The words made a half sob, half laugh bubble up in Lance and he pressed his forehead to Keith’s. “Take care of Red for me,” he mumbled.

“W-what? Keith? No, no, no, Keith, wake up,” Lance said, shaking him. Keith winced, but his eyes fluttered open. “Don’t fall asleep. Don’t you dare, Mullet. We’re in the middle of battle, you can’t fall asleep. I swear I’ll start calling you Sleeping Beauty if you dare fall asleep on me.”

Keith smiled weakly, his fingers twitching as they gripped Lance’s arm. “As long as you wake me up,” he whispered, shutting his eyes.

“No, Keith. Open your eyes. Open your eyes, come on,” he insisted. Keith did, but it was obvious he was struggling. His gaze focused on the ceiling as his eyes watered and more blood seeped from his mouth. “Keith, come on,” Lance moaned.

“I-I don’t… I don’t feel anything any-anymore,” he gasped.

“Keith, stay with me. Stay awake, okay?” Lance whimpered. Keith’s breaths slowed, his eyes fluttering before they turned blank, slightly cross-eyed as his head lolled to the side.

“No!”

He shook Keith almost violently. “Come back! Come back, come back, come back!” he pleaded. “No, no, no!” he wailed, pulling Keith closer, sobbing into his hair as his limp body rested against him. Lance placed his lips to his icy, sweaty forehead, sobbing, hands shaking as he caressed him, begging him to wake up, to come back.

He heard the rush of footsteps, heard the gasps, the shriek that must have come from Pidge, but he couldn’t bring himself to lift his head from where it remained buried in the crook of his neck, covered by that stupid, adorable mullet. Keith had been his rival. Then he became his leader. Then his friend. He became one of the few friends Lance could trust completely. And now he was gone.

No more smiles. No more varying tones of voice. No more galaxy eyes reading him like an open book. No more maybes, no more hope, no more….

End || Bucky x Reader

Summary → After discovering Bucky’s affair with none other than The Black Widow, you feel the need to confront the situation and walk away. 

Word Count → 1.3K

Warnings → Cursing, implied sex/smut, mostly just really angsty!

A/N → Based on this request: “Do you think you could write a Bucky x Reader where he leaves her for Natasha or another woman, and with “ When you realise that you made a mistake, don’t come looking for me ” please ? Angst and maybe fluff if possible ? I love your writing !” Been doing a lot of angst lately, which I surprisingly enjoy? Let me know what y’all think!

“You know, I would have come straight to Bucharest, if you had bothered to pick up any of my calls. Or answered any of my text messages.”

The trademark jet-black knapsack that had somehow become permanently entangled with Bucky slipped through his metal digits, landing with light thud against the hardwood floor. Even from beneath his navy ball cap, Bucky’s gaze was sharp, inspecting you with an expression that bred uncertainty and worry in the pit of your stomach. You remained misty-eyed as you watched the enormous man approach you with caution, somehow entirely different than the man you remembered; the man you had once fallen hopelessly in love with.

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Daffodil Garden

summary: Dan Howell is the only ordinary one in a world of remarkable people. Phil Lester is the only one that sees his lack of a power as a power in and of itself.

genre: fluff, a lil bit of angst

tw: swearing

word count: 2.7k

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Unusual One Night Stand

Originally posted by kissing-pleasure

When Harry woke up on Saturday morning, he was pleasantly surprised to learn he wasn’t alone in bed. His colossal mattress had been occupied by a figure whose face was hidden under his cream colored duvet, low snores an indication of their presence. Tufts of hair fanned out against his usually vacant pillow, and a hand rested besides his shoulder, almost but not quite touching his bare skin.

Another surprising element was that he didn’t feel sick and the pounding in his head alongside the dryness of his mouth didn’t irk him too much to cause immense discomfort. In fact, waking up on that bright day was…well, the usual.

The person besides him groaned lowly, hand closest to him fleeing away to hide under the duvet. There was a slight shuffling while the person tried to cover their entire body with the thick material, however Harry’s long body had taken up majority of the warmth. Her hands fell from the edge of the duvet, giving up on encasing herself with warmth and threw her hands down on the mattress.

The blanket fell from her face and Harry’s eyes widened as her lashes twitched. Once glance at her face made memories rush back to him of the night prior filled with feverish kisses and ample dirty talk mixed in with things he’d never dreamed of doing with a stranger. Her nose scrunched in her sleep as her pink lips parted and a shudder heaved through her body.

Fuck, Harry thought as his eyes took her in. With anything but quick reflexes, he removed the duvet away and glanced around for clothing to dress her with. The poor girl had goosebumps littering her arms, a pink shade resting on top of the apples of her cheeks. A low whine escaped her ajar mouth as Harry snatched his button up from the night before from where it lay on the floor and turned to her.

Carefully, he shook her shoulder which was bare but thankfully a thin strap that had wandered to her elbow proved she was somewhat dressed. He rolled down the duvet and placed the black shirt by her side.

Before he would open his mouth to attempt to wake her, her hands shot out to grasp the minimal warmth in between his hands and tugged it back over her body. “Stop it, I’m cold!”

Harry swallowed guiltily. “I know love, I left the damn window open last nigh’. Look, I’ve got you a shirt.”

“Wanna sleep. Leave me alone, will you?” she grumbled back, clearly not amused by his attempts at being a gentleman, desperately wanting the duvet back over her body.

The worst part was, despite her stubbornness—he couldn’t care less about that anyways, he couldn’t remember her damn name. Only a face showed up in his memory of the night before, and that only made him feel like utter crap.

He stole a glance at the clock: nearly 7 am. “C’mon, you can put m’shirt on and then go back t’sleep, alrigh’? Won’t bother you again, I promise.”

She didn’t reply and her eyes had remained closed which led him to believed that perhaps she had fallen asleep, however not even a minute later, she knuckled at her eyes and forced herself by the palms into an upright position. She held her arms out quietly, resting her head on his headboard.

Harry’s heart soared as he gently took each arm, pushing it through the correct hole before buttoning her up. The shirt was naturally unbelievably large on her and he had to button the cuffs to make sure she didn’t feel feel cold there either. She was like a doll and Harry was her owner. She let him dress her quietly, eyes still closed and half asleep. While buttoning the right hand’s cuff, a yawn tore her body as she batted Harry’s quick fingers away to cover her mouth.

“Better?” Harry murmured, watching her slide back down in the mattress. She pressed her hands to her cheeks, feeling the smooth fabric against her icy skin.

“Mm,” she responded with a satisfied hum.

Harry’s own eyes were now drooped with sleep, allowing his legs to sluggishly slide against the mattress again and lay his head on his ornate pillow. The white fluffiness of the head rest did little to comfort him, however knowing the girl who had provided him with a fantastic night was soundly asleep besides him definitely did the trick.

When he awoke a second time, the girl was still besides him, much closer than she was prior to him falling into a dreamless sleep. In fact, she was proper touching him, with her cheek on his shoulder and a shy hand pressed against his chest. Miraculously, he learned that his own arm had draped across her waist, holding her closer than necessary.

He hadn’t noticed her legs were folded neatly against his until she gave them a soft kick, and a sigh.

He peered at her quietly, astounded by her beautiful features. Her lips were swollen in a cute way, eyebrows scrunched and hair falling wildly into her face. Her body, swimming in his formal button up, looked somewhat warm even though her other hand had drawn the duvet to rest just snugly beneath her chin. It was no surprise that he’d found her beautiful even while he was drunk. With a soft push of the stray tendrils, he removed the annoying strands from her face.

A whine escaped from the back of her throat and Harry immediately drew his hand back, panicking. Her eyelids fluttered and before he had time to react or even pretend to be asleep, her soft, sleepy eyes opened and caught his.

He couldn’t say anything, basking in her eye color and curious look. Instead, she rubbed her cold nose again the material of his shirt and mumbled, “Good mornin’. Sorry I didn’t leave last night, you had me all worn out.”

Her morning voice was so sweet compared to the groggy rasp when she had been ripped apart from her precious sleep. She was like a kitten, just newly waking up and looking for any warmth she could find. Her cheeks didn’t leave his bare shoulder, however she did nuzzle against his clavicle for a few seconds.

“‘S alright,” Harry said back, trying to shrug without jostling her too much, even though her statement made him feel smug. “Don’t really mind a cuddle in the mornin’.”

She rolled off of him, knuckling at her eyes harshly. Once look at the clock had her groaning as she sat up and removed the duvet from her legs. “I’m so sorry. I’ll go on home now—”

“I mean,” Harry was hasty to interject. “You can stay for a little bit longer. I can make a pretty mean breakfast.”

Her feet touched the floor, bare legs stretching before standing up in their own. She stretched her arms one more time just enough to give Harry a peek at her panties. After another yawn, she shook her head and laughed, “Are you bribing me with a couple of pancakes?”

“Jus’ tryin’ to appeal to your emotions. ‘M a pretty lonely man, you know,” he offered, sitting up. The duvet fell into his lap and he didn’t miss the way her eyes greedily ran over his tattooed skin. The smile on her face was still there, lessened but heavily thoughtful.

“Didn’t seem like that at the party last night. Everybody wanted to jump me for occupying you for hours. Although, I’ll hand this one over to you. You did practically beg for me to stay in the morning before you fell asleep.”

A hot wave of embarrassment flooded over him.

“Romantically,” he clarified, jutting his lower lip out. “Haven’t been in the company of such a sane girl.”

She blinked and then said teasingly, “What? What kind of people have you slept with, Styles?”

He absolutely loved the way she said his name, standing in the middle of his bedroom, arms across her chest with an exhilarating smile and bare legs. A smile spread across his own face as he pushed the blanket off of his body. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I tried t’tell you.”

She shook her head and laughed before heading in the direction of his bathroom. “I’ll be out of your hair in a bit. Think I left my dress in your bathroom or maybe your…”

“How do you like your eggs?” Harry interrupted.

“Hate eggs in the morning,” she quipped back and Harry held back a dissatisfied huff. “But,” she continued. “I do like french toast.”

“Lucky for you then, ‘m pretty damn good at makin’ them,” Harry grinned lopsidedly, his feet touching the floor. “I’ll leave some sweats by the door too alrigh’? Spare toothbrush should be somewhere in the cabinets.”

“Thanks.”

She opened the door the glanced around for the light switch. He only watched her with fondly as she struggled to find it, however when she did, and her eyes met with his, her cheeks burned and she slammed the door shut with her heel. Harry decided that he quite liked her and it wouldn’t be a terrible idea to get to know her.

When he was dressed himself, he rummaged through his closet to find an appropriate sized sweats and let them hang on the doorknob of the bathroom. Then, as he trudged downstairs feeling anything but lonely, he slid his phone off its charger attached to the wall besides his dining table to search up how to make ‘french toasts.’

He still couldn’t remember her damn name.

Breaking... Ch.2

A/N: Part two is finally done and it’s pretty long! I have no idea how to make links so if someone could message me and tell me how that would be apreciated ;-; Once I figure that out I’ll put one to part one on here so that no one has to go through my blog. Anyways I hope you enjoy! Here’s all the people who asked to be tagged, if you would also like to be tagged then just shoot me a message and I’ll add you in the next part! @iamnotthrowingawaymyshit @renae-writes 

ok this is my attempt at trying to link this to part one

Part one

Word count: 3965 (oh)

Warnings: Anxiety/Panic attacks, allusions to sexual assault, more cursing(there will never not be curing)


Breaking Promises

             There was no way, this was literally physically impossible. No Y/N, what are you crazy?  Of course you didn’t travel back in time! There had to be some sort of explanation to this! Yet for some reason you couldn’t help your mind wander to that possibility. What if you had actually gone back in time? How would that even be possible? What are the consequences to you being here? How much have you changed by just breathing where you weren’t supposed to? More pressing, how would you get back if this was all real? This couldn’t be real, maybe you fell in some weird coma dream after that guy shot you. Hell maybe you were dead. You hadn’t even noticed how tight you were clutching your chest, how heavy and painful your breathing was.

             Everyone had their eyes glued to you, Eliza was holding onto your shoulders to help you stand. Angie and the two little boys looked scared about what was happening. Alexander looked like he was trying to keep his composure but his eyes were searching for answers. You could see their lips moving but it took a few moments before you could actually hear them. Eliza’s voice flooded over you first, it sounded diluted, almost washed out.

“Y/N! Dear, you’re safe, you have nothing to fear.” Her voice snapped you back slightly, only enough to the point where you could actually look at her. She was simply glad that you were finally being responsive.

“Yes, that’s it now. I am here, we are here. I’m going to count; focus on what I’m saying. Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf…” She kept going, your head bobbing ever so slightly to the numbers but every time you thought you were about to calm down another thought came to mind. What if I really am dead? If I’m not, then how do I get back home? Can I even get home? Am I stuck here for the rest of my life?! Eliza looked over at Alexander frantically, he looked you in the eyes as his voice replaced Eliza’s. His was more clear than Eliza’s was.

“Miss Y/N, if you can hear me I would like to ask you to please nod your head.” You were able to do so and nodded slowly, a small bit of relief could be seen in his eyes.

“Very good, now take a deep breath with me.” He breathed in and you were able to shakily follow along. Eliza joined in with her husband, her voice was no longer hushed like it was before. Her voice was soft and comforting, she was a mother after all. A good one too if we’re being historically accurate. She was able to guide you through breathing well enough as to where you no longer were shaking, that was good. You fixed your posture and Eliza loosened her grip on you, for the first time in who knows how long you were able to speak.

“I’m, I’m sorry…” Your voice was feeble and weak, everyone’s gazes softened.

“Do not worry dear, you have nothing to apologize for.” Eliza said reassuringly.

“I have not seen anyone react to anything like that since the war. I do not know exactly what I said that upset you, but you should not be sorry, if anything I am sorry.” Alexander stated, his eyes completely focused on you to ensure that you wouldn’t regress.  You nodded along, your head aching, not quite the same way it was earlier but still debilitating. You rubbed your forehead with the palm of your hand before taking one last deep breath. Okay, this is real, at least in some capacity it is. I really don’t want to think I’m dead so I should put that thought on hold for now. I’m standing in front of Alexander Hamilton, the very first Secretary of Treasury, the guy on the $10 bill. If I really have gone back in time, then I have to be careful. I could literally change all of history if I meddle around at all, hell even existing here is probably screwing everything up. Stupid Butterfly Effect. You made a silent promise to yourself to not break history; it was probably for the best anyway.

             Opening your eyes, you saw Alexander and Eliza standing in front of you with worried eyes and downturned lips. These people, they don’t know who you are or how bad is it that you’re there. They don’t know anything about you and yet they treat you like a dear friend. You at the very least needed to thank them.

“Mr. and Mrs.…Hamilton I, I just wanted to say thank you for helping me, you know, calm down. That hasn’t exactly happened in a while…” You weren’t lying, it’s been a long time since you had a freak out like that. Not since graduation if I’m remembering correctly.

“My dear, there is no need to thank us. But you seem to be under a lot of stress, perhaps you need to take a break?” Eliza asked. Are we running away for the summer to go upstate? Shit, Y/N this is not the time for musical references! Pull yourself together! You allow yourself a moment to scream internally before responding.

“That won’t be necessary, I’ll be fine in just a second. Maybe we could sit down or something?” Wow that sounded dumb. Nice job trying to deflect yourself from the situation!

“Yes, perhaps that’s-“ Alexander started to speak before he was interrupted by a familiar, female voice.

“My apologies Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton but I wanted to inform you of Philip’s arrival…” Rachel locked eyes with you. “Miss Y/N! What’s wrong, did something happen?” She asked worriedly. She was standing in front of the now open front door, you could hear the sound wheels and some odd clacking from outside.

“Yeah, I’m fine Rachel, don’t worry.” You smiled at her meekly. Just as you were finishing your sentence a figure stepped up behind Rachel. He slid past her in the door way and his eyes scanned the room, his gaze finally fell onto you.

“Ah, Philip! Back later than usual aren’t we my son?” Alexander interjected with slight suspicion. Eliza patted him lightly on the arm before smiling at the young man making his way towards us. Wait… Philip? As in Philip Hamilton, the ray of sunshine in the midst of darkness? The sweet sunshine boy!

“There he is! My drop of sunshine! How was class today, love?” Eliza beamed. Oh praise we were right! The name is canon! His eyes never left you as he made his way over.

“Fine, class went well as always, mother… More importantly however, who might this lovely lady be?” Oh, of course this is coming from Mr. Let’s-strip-down-to-our-socks. I may indeed look good in my frocks but it is not happening today sir! He stops in front of you, holding out his hand with his palm facing up. He bows lightly and introduces himself.

“As for myself, I am Philip Hamilton.” He spoke with a slight chuckle and a sly grin. It took a second for you to realize you were supposed to give him your hand. You placed your hand on his palm, raising your hand to his lips he pressed a ‘polite’ kiss to your knuckle. This cheeseball really thinks he’s being slick, huh? You did your best to keep a straight face.

“My name is Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you, um, Philip was it?” You tried to hint that you were not interested. He stood back up with that grin still plastered on his face. You could finally get a good look at him as he stood in front of you. His slightly curled hair paired with the freckles splattered on his face reminded you of a piece by Jackson Pollock. Autumn Rhythms. His clothes were similar to his father’s but with color and fit were slightly different. The color itself was interesting, from far away it seemed to be grey but up close it looked to be more of a dull cyan.

“Yes, it is Philip, and if I may be so forward I’d like to say that your name is quite possibly as lovely as you.” This little shit, sunshine my ass, more like fuckboy. Wait a second was he the original fuckboy? Oh God no The Founding Fuckboys. You decided to stop thinking about that and try to look as serious as possible for someone thinking of ‘The Founding Fuckboys’ as a phrase used for the fathers of our country. You pulled your hand away and folded your arms behind your back, giving a sardonic smile towards his general direction. Alexander cleared his throat.

“Philip, my son, we were discussing some rather pressing matters before you arrived.”

“Oh? What matters exactly?” Philip questioned.

“I believe it would be best for us to sit down at the table first, supper is ready after all.” Eliza touched your arm gently before turning her attention to Rachel, who had stayed surprisingly silent throughout the conversation. Both of them turned to head down a separate hall, Alexander and the children followed them and just as you were about to join them Philip tapped you on the shoulder.

“Miss Y/N, as the eldest son, it would be politest of me to escort you to the table.” He held out his arm for you to take. Seriously? Okay, at this point this is just getting ridiculous.

“Thank you Philip, I’m sure it would be polite of you to lead me down a hallway, but I can walk myself just fine thank you.” You started to walk away with a bit of annoyance, you stopped and turned to look back at Philip. He looked shocked, not upset or angry, just shocked. You decided to add something to even the playing field slightly.

“Also, Mr. Hamilton, calling me Miss seems a bit formal. Just call me Y/N, after all I’m probably around the same age as you.” Although you were still a bit annoyed by his previous attempts to flirt when you clearly weren’t interested, you couldn’t help feeling a little sorry about how dejected he looked. You gave him a friendly smile and you could literally see his shoulders relax. Wow, was he really that tensed up? His surprised expression was quickly changed to one of intrigue. He folded his arms behind his back and spoke up once more, even his voice sounded more relaxed.

“Very well then… Y/N, forgive me, my behavior was not very becoming of me. If you could find it in yourself to pardon me for my actions, then I would be greatly appreciative.” His voice was softer and genuinely apologetic.

“You’re forgiven, now we should probably follow the others. Don’t want to miss dinner right?” You chuckled and turned back around to walk down the short hallway. Philip jogged up to walk beside you, a soft laugh escaping him as he approached. The two of you walked toward the dining room, Philip making offhand jokes about his parents along the way. Everyone was already sitting and adjusting themselves to be more comfortable by the time you had gotten there. Angie’s head perked up when you stepped into the room and when she noticed Philip at your side a mischievous grin replaced her innocent smile.

“Ooooh! Philly’s found his beloved!” She teased happily. You couldn’t help but laugh at her antics. What did Alexander call her earlier? Sunshine girl? Yeah, she’s the real sunshine in this house.

“Angelica, please, it’s rude to insinuate such things.” He buried half his face in one of his hands, you could tell he was a little embarrassed.  Oh siblings, the only people who are allowed to ruin your day. You walked to an empty seat at the table, Philip was about to pull the seat out for you but he stopped himself.

“Sorry, force of habit.” He shrugged with a smile before making his way to the other side of the table to sit across from you. You shook your head and rolled your eyes. Well, at least his little shit levels are manageable. What a dork. On the table you saw some sort of bread? It looks like bread but it’s got a funny shape to it. A few older women came out of a set of doors, their clothes were similar to yours and they were carrying bowls in their hands. A bowl was set down in front of everyone, when yours came you could finally see what it was. Some kind of stew? Honestly why am I surprised, New York was prominently Dutch during the colonial era. Wow I really am majoring in history aren’t I?

“Y/N dear, I know you’ve been having…a rather trying day so you do not have to tell us what happened quite yet. But if you think that you are well enough then we will listen.” Eliza cooed. What happened? What is she… Oh shit this is bad. I showed up on their doorstep with blood pouring from my head and definitely not wearing the proper attire for the century. Not only that but I’ve been saying things willy-nilly, how the hell am I supposed to explain my situation? You looked up to see Philip staring at you, not so much at you actually but at the bruise on the side of your forehead. Did he not notice it until now? Okay, if I tell them I don’t want to talk about it I’ll just have to do it later. I need to think of something now while I remember everything I’ve said in the past few hours. Come on, four years of Drama Club don’t fail me now! You took a deep breath to ease your rapidly beating heart.

“It’s fine Eliza, it’s probably best to get this off my chest now rather than later.” You cleared your throat. Alright, keep it simple and easy to remember.

“I’m from upstate New York, although I haven’t lived there for some time. When sickness came through downtown, my father decided I was to move down to North Carolina. I’m the only child that survived to adulthood so it was rather important that I stay as far away from the illness as possible.” Yes! Off to a good start! Everyone at the table was fully invested in what you had to say. They know that I can read, that’s what Eliza meant when she said she was surprised that I was educated. Only wealthy people were well off in education. I’m going to have to explain that.

“Honestly, my father is the one to thank for my wellbeing. He insisted that I have the best education; my mother was educated as well. I learned to read and write. He also made sure I had an appreciation for art as well as music. Though I must confess, I always had an infinity for politics and history. And my father indulged those interests.” Alexander seemed to take the most interest in what you were saying. Shit, I’m running low on ideas… Okay, Okay, what’s left? How I got here and why… Grand Finale I guess? I don’t know what to say… Fuck, this is going to get personal, I have no other options here. You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Unfortunately, my parents passed from the disease last year. Land and money can’t be passed down to unmarried women so once word of their deaths went around I had several…visitors.” Damn it all.

“There was…one in particular that was, uh, a bit more aggressive than the others. I came back to try and get away from him but he found me. I was lucky to escape before anything really serious could happen.” You couldn’t help but look away from the eyes staring at you.

Eliza was the first one to break the silence. She swiped at her eyes and, after clearing the lump that formed in her throat during your story, she pushed her chair back and rounded the table to get to you. Eliza enveloped you into a warm embrace.

“Oh, you dear, sweet child. How horrible! No lady should ever be put into that situation. And no gentleman should ever press his advantages. I cannot even imagine! No wonder you were in such a disarray when you arrived.” You were taken aback for a moment but you couldn’t help it when you hugged her back. She pulled away and smiled warmly, smoothing down your hair with one hand. Alexander slowly stood up and walked to stand beside his wife.

“I believe I speak for all of us when I say that we would be honored for you to stay here with us.” He said with a proud smile. How are they so nice? Eliza nodded in agreement.

“Yes, Alexander is right. We’ll have a room set up for you in no time.” You didn’t know what to say for a second. You felt guilty for lying to them, even if they weren’t total lies and you knew you couldn’t actually tell the complete truth. All you need is a place to stay until the threads of time shove you back to the time where you belong.  Until then you need to lie low and try not to destroy the space time continuum. Easy, no problem at all.

“You’re too kind to me Eliza, thank you both so much.” You smiled as wide as you could manage but you knew your eyes were still downcast.

“Now I’m sure none of us want to exhaust you anymore so if you need to talk to any of us we will gladly do so. For now, let us all relax and eat supper, you must be starving dear.” Eliza ran her thumb across your cheek before her and Alexander went back to take their seats. You sat down and looked at the seat across from yours. Philip sat silently for a second until your eyes met. He didn’t look at all like he did earlier, no cheeky grin, no playful shine in his eyes, it was all replaced with something that resembled being distraught. He mouthed a sentence to you so that no one could hear him.

“May I speak with you later?”

“Of course, Philly” You mouthed, giving him a weak smile. Eliza and Alexander sat back down in their seats, an oddly comfortable silence filled the room. You looked around to make sure there wasn’t some specific way to eat the food, you settled with just trying to eat it as quickly and quietly as possible. That was kind of hard though, once you took a bite you realized how right Eliza was. You felt like you hadn’t eaten in days. Eliza filled the silence.

“Alexander, love, how was work today?” She smiled at Alexander, he didn’t seem to be happy though.

“He doesn’t even have a real job… Washington should have done something about him.” Was all that you were able to comprehend through his angry mumbles. Eliza heaved a sigh.

“We talked about this Alexander, John Adams has a job. And while we’re at it you must remember that George is no longer in office, he is back in Virginia, Adams is our president now.” Eliza explained. Wait, didn’t he say earlier that he worked under Washington? How can he work under him when Adams is in office?

“Betsy, I refuse to accept that that man is the leader of the country I fought for! He’s arrogant, ignorant and anti-charismatic!” Wow, he really didn’t like Adams did he? I guess I can’t blame him too much, no one really liked him as a follow-up to Washington.

“If that scoundrel thinks that he has the right to call me “Creole Bastard” than he is utterly mistaken!” Alexander spat. That fat motherfucker. Eliza coughed, practically choking on the tea she was sipping, Angie was staring at you with wide eyes, Philip and Alexander had wide grins stretched across their faces. Philip actually looked like he was trying with every ounce of strength in his body to not laugh. Why are they all looking at me like that?

“What did you just say?” Alexander asked with a sort of twinkle in his eyes. Oh no, what did I… Shit did I say that out loud?

“Uh, what? Did I say something?” You shoved a piece of bread into your mouth so that you wouldn’t be able to say anything else. This isn’t good, not only did I just make a reference out loud but it was also something that you probably didn’t hear women say! Nice job with trying to keep a low profile Y/N! Alexander and Philip both started to laugh hysterically.

“A fat motherfucker? That is a rather astute way to describe him actually!” Alexander howled.

“That is quite the slur, I have never heard someone say something such as that so casually!” Philip snorted. Eliza slapped Alexander on the arm and stared menacingly at Philip.

“Alexander! Do not use that sort of language around the children!” I never knew that you could yell quietly until now, Eliza you truly are impressive! You haphazardly ate the bread that was in your mouth, everything was happening so fast, you didn’t even realize how red your face had gotten.

“I am so, so sorry Eliza! That was extremely improper of me!” Eliza shook her head, giving another sigh.

“It is alright Y/N, my husband and son are also at fault for reacting in such a way. Dear, would it be alright if I asked you to watch your speech, at least around the little ones.” Her voice wasn’t quite unpleasant in that moment, it just sounded like a mom who wanted to make sure her children didn’t say something wrong. Which is exactly what she was. How do mom’s sound so nice yet so threatening at the same time? You nodded in a rather exaggerated manner.

“Of course! No problem at all, I’m really sorry…” You ran a hand through your hair to shake it out slightly. Note to self, never cross Eliza. Mom skills too great.

Supper finished relatively quickly after that, Angie and the little boys from earlier plus one more you didn’t recognize were the first to scamper off. Eliza stood up after a little bit and excused herself, she said that she would be in the garden for a little while. Now that you think about it, even for the time period, her clothes were still a bit off. Her dress was almost flat in the front, not figure hugging like most of the clothes in the 18th century, in fact the cloth seemed to pull away from her body. Weird. Alexander coughed softly to get your attention.

“I apologize again Miss Y/N, I promised you talks of literature during supper. If you would like you may join my son and I in the study. Not only can we discuss Shakespeare, as my daughter has told me you enjoy, but we might also converse on our…mutual distaste for…President Adams” Alexander’s voice strained as he said the last two words. Philip looked at you expectantly, he gave you a comforting smile.

“That sounds wonderful, I’d love to join you.” You sat up from your seat and began to follow Alexander down the hall. You matched your pace with Philip’s so that you would walk side by side. He looked down at you and nudged your arm. Looking up at him to see what he wanted he turned his gaze away, pretending he hadn’t done a thing. You chuckled softly and repeated what he did, he gave you a similar response.

All I have to do is not change history, simple right?

anonymous asked:

I'm sick with strep. It's occurred to me, that Anakin might need a lot of vaccines when he first gets to the Jedi order -- so, the prompt is, Anakin's first basic checkup visit with Vokara Che and her assistants. Presumably taking place shortly after they get back from Naboo. Bonus points if Obi-Wan is dragged in -- he's overdue for a visit, and after Qui Gon's death, the mind healers want a look. Also, warn Anakin about any allergies his master might have, and vice versa.

“I’m sure its going to be alright Anakin.” Obi-Wan soothed softly with a hand on his shoulder, guiding him along the rooms of the Halls to the right one where he knew that Healer Uva would be waiting on them with all the shots Anakin would need.

“But what are they going to do?”

“Well, its a basic checkup along with some shots for various immunizes you don’t have that you will encounter.” Obi-Wan smiled down at him and squeezed his shoulder. “And take down the information like your weight, height, gender, hair color and all.”

“But they already know I’m a boy.” Anakin frowned.

“Mhmm but those things has to go in your folder.”

“But…why?” Anakin blinked.

“Well, so if you get sick somewhere else in the universe, the healer there can request your folder and know its you and know what to do to treat you.”

“…Oh, okay that make sense.” Anakin nodded at the explanation as they stepped into the room.

And promptly jumped in surprise as the door promptly shut behind them.

“Well well well knight Kenobi, a pleasure to finally have you in front of me.” A blue twi’lek said with her arms crossed over her chest as her lekku’s twitched.

Healer Uva meanwhile smiled gently at Anakin even as his master tensed up.

“H-Healer Che, what a surprise.”

“Oh I bet Knight Kenobi.” She offered, looking more and more unimpressed as she did.

“Anakin! Padawan of mine, this is healer Che, one of the bes-”

“Flattery will not get you out of your health check Kenobi.” She scowled at him before giving Anakin a brief smile. “Please go to Healer Uva padawan, your master has his own checkup.”

And then she moved to Obi-Wan, grabbing him by the ear to pull him over to an examination bed. “You with me Knight.”

“Healer Che!” He yelped.

Anakin watched with wide eyes before stepping over to Healer Uva who gently patted the bed by her. “I’m sorry for having this sprung on you young one. Your master has a…history of avoiding the Halls.”

“He does?” Anakin asked while crawling up on the bed and sitting still for the healer as she picked up an instrument to scan him.

“Mhmm, he’s well known here for being difficult.” Uva chuckled quietly while reading what the scanner had picked up, quickly preparing two hyposprays for Anakin. “We usually leave it to Healer Che because she knows how to handle him.”

As she got the hyporspray ready, Anakin glanced over at Obi-Wan to find him being forced to take off his boots and outer tunic, the healer hissing at him to get on the scale. “And so help me Kenobi, if you lost weight I will ground you, new padawan or not. Or perhaps I should just ground you anyhow.” She scowled.

“I haven’t lost weight! I’ve been good!” Obi-Wan argued as he hopped on one foot before settling his boot down, flustering as he noticed Anakin watching the two. “And please don’t embarrass me.”

“Oh you don’t want your new padawan to know how terrible you are at taking care of yourself huh? Well tough luck, I’m going to get him to send me monthly reports on your health.” The twi’lek glared at him. “On the scale, NOW.”

Obi-Wan muttered something that got him a sharp but light wack over the head.

“Ouch!”

“On the scale, no sass.”

Anakin was distracted when Uva carefully gave him his shot and then asked him a few question about what kind of illnesses and injuries he had gotten on Tatooine that he knew of.

By the time he looked back, Obi-Wan was sitting shirtless on the examination bed, having a bruise on his chest examined and prodded before the healer got to work on it.

Obi-Wan was looking embrassed, staring at his knees before he looked up and meet Anakin’s eyes, giving him a sheepish and meek smile.

“Is Master Obi-Wan bad at taking care of himself?” He couldn’t help but ask outloud, blinking as Obi-Wan colored sharply.

“Your master is terrible. He hides injuries, loses weight and gains it as if he’s a jojo, tries to pretend he can live of tea and air at times and Force preserve us if I’ve ever meet a more masochistic human in my life.” Che grunted before letting Obi-Wan pull on his under tunic as the bruise was fading.

“I’m not that bad.”

“No? Then tell us all about the time you were grounded on Coruscant for a whole month because we could count your ribs, how about that?”

Obi-Wan turned bright red and Anakin felt his eyes widen. He had seen slaves with protruding ribs but Obi-Wan was a Jedi! He must have been able to eat and drink properly right?

“Why?” He looked at them.

“Because like I said, he’s horrible at eating and Master Jinn, Force look after him, was not always good at feeding him.” Che sighed, hesitating a bit before squeezing Obi-Wan’s shoulder almost gently. “You need to look after yourself Kenobi. You got a padawan now.”

“I know…” Obi-Wan stared at his knees.

Anakin stared at him then hopped off the examination bed and moved to his teacher, hugging his legs while peering up at him. “Its okay, we can take care of each other master Obi-Wan.” He smiled up at him.

Green eyes blinked at him in surprise before Obi-Wan gave a small smile and ruffled Anakin’s hair. “I guess we can…now its your turn to hop on the scale Anakin. Go on. Boots and over tunic off, I’ll help you put it on again.”

Anakin gave Obi-Wan’s legs one last squeeze before moving over to the scale, leaning against the bed to remove his boots.

Obi-Wan watched him closely, smiling ever so slightly while the two healers traded looks.

Perhaps having a padawan so early was not such a bad thing for the young knight.

Daddy Duties

Simon Dominic (AOMG) x Y/N (Reader)
Genre: Family / Romance
Count: 2,083
Warning: Fluff
Rating: G
Requested: By @thessamd and also a few other anons who wanted Simon D fluff! Sorry for the long wait! I hope you all enjoy it :)
P.S. I’ve always wanted to call Simon daddy ;) ayeee

Originally posted by yooneroos

“Kisa, come on, baby,” Simon urged as gently as he could in his gravely voice. His one and half year old daughter was currently trying to rip off a leaf on the plant in the lobby of the AOMG building. When she didn’t budge, he took her tiny fingers in his grasp and lead her down the hall, smiling when the front desk girls cooed at her.

His dark eyes trailed after the little tyke when she unlatched herself from his hands to run down the hall and into an open elevator. Her curly hair was tied in two messy pony-tails, obviously done by none other than himself, and bounced just as she did when the door closed behind him. Her Jordans matched his, as well as their coordinated outfits, which was just light denim jeans and black long sleeves since it was nearing fall. She was babbling in her baby language but when the doors slid open, she was sprinting once again.

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