if you asked me what this is i would tell you i have no idea

Dean Thinks You’re Hot

Title: Dean Thinks You’re Hot

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 2,122

Anon Request: you think you could write one where the reader feels insecure about her stretch marks/size and Jensen is her best friend and tries to help her feel better?

Warnings: Negative Thoughts, Low Self-Esteem, Fluff, Implied Smut

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated, friends! xoxox

x

Your name: submit What is this?


    Pacing back and forth around your trailer almost drove you dizzy. Back and forth. Back and forth; as if that was going to simultaneously solve all of your problems. It wasn’t. Not even close.

    You had just gotten the memo that your intimate scene with Jensen was moved to today, not that you weren’t sweating buckets the second you got the script, but the fact that the scene was moved to today instead of five days from now had you ripping your hair from your head. You were going to be very exposed to him, and no matter how long the two of you had been friends, this was something you weren’t comfortable with on so many levels.

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Strength of Your Beliefs

He comes back to the hospital much later, well past the end of visitor’s hours, when he’s certain that Maggie and Melissa will have gone home for the night. He’s held up for a moment at the nurse’s station, but they all remember him as the lunatic who had completely lost his mind when Scully had first been admitted, and none of them seem too keen on telling him he can’t see her.

Her room is dark; more likely than not, he realizes, she’s asleep. Sudden misgivings make him pause just outside the door.

She’s been through an unimaginable ordeal. Mulder’s mind is full of the transcripts that clog the files in his office- the testimonies of alleged abductees who returned with stories of unimaginable torture, of extensive and invasive testing done without any anesthesia, and the idea of any of that happening to Scully makes him want to vomit. Even if her mind doesn’t remember what she’s suffered, her body still does, and she needs her rest.

Mulder asks himself, before crossing the threshold into her room: who is he here for? For her? Or for himself? He’s about to turn and leave, to let her rest undisturbed, when a soft, scratchy voice calls out to him from within the darkened hospital room.

“Are you going to stand out there all night, or are you going to come in and see me?” His face breaks into a grin, the muscles of his cheeks aching from the almost-forgotten act of smiling, and he ducks into her room.

Scully smiles softly up at him as he crosses to her. Without sparing a glance at the chairs waiting along the wall to receive visitors, he sits down at the edge of her bed, by her hip. She reaches for him without hesitation, and he holds her hand tightly in his own, the way he had longed to before, when he’d felt too self-conscious under the infuriatingly knowing smiles of her mother and sister. She smooths her thumb over the backs of his knuckles in a gentle caress and he feels, finally, as though everything is going to be all right.

“I didn’t know if you would be awake,” Mulder says, his voice thick.

“I was waiting,” she tells him. “I had a hunch you might come back.”

“How are you feeling?” he asks. The smile slides slowly off of her face.

“Frustrated,” she confesses. “I’ve been lying here all afternoon, trying to remember something, anything, about what happened, about where I’ve been.” She sighs. “I remember calling you, leaving you a message… I remember Duane Barry breaking my window, and then….” She shakes her head. “Nothing. Nothing at all until I woke up this morning.” She frowns. “Well, nothing except….”

“Except what?”

“I think… I must have been dreaming for at least part of the time I’ve been here, Mulder. I can’t remember all of it, but there was a nurse….” She trails off, frowning in confusion. Her eyes close for a moment.

“A nurse?” Mulder prompts her, and immediately feels guilty. If she’s drifting off to sleep, he should let her.

“Yeah,” Scully says sleepily, and her eyes flutter open again. “Nurse Owens. I remember hearing her talking to me, telling me that she’d be taking care of me… but the nurses here told me that there’s no one here with that name.” She looks up at him. “And I thought… I thought I heard your voice, too.” She yawns. “That was real, wasn’t it? You told me that you didn’t think I was ready to go yet.”

“Yeah,” Mulder whispers. “Yeah, that was real.” She gives him a gentle smile, her eyelids at half-mast. The hand not holding his gropes clumsily on the nightstand to her right, and when she brings it back, Mulder sees her cross glinting golden in the faint light from the hospital hallway.

“My mom says she told you to keep this with you,” she says. “So you could give it back to me, when you found me.” She looks up at him. “She says you wore it.”

“Yeah,” he admits, ducking his head. “That part’s true, too.” She smiles bemusedly.

“Why?” she asks, perplexed. “It’s not a symbol that means anything to you, Mulder. You believe in lots of things, but Christianity isn’t one of them.”

You are, though,” says Mulder. Scully’s hand tightens around his, and her eyes sparkle with tears. “You have your beliefs, Scully, and I have mine… and whatever the Pope might believe, the Catholic Church can only dream of being as much of a force to be reckoned with as you are.” Scully chuckles, shaking her head.

“If that’s not blasphemy, Mulder, I don’t know what is,” she says. She starts to speak again, but her words are lost in an enormous yawn.

“Get some sleep now, Scully,” Mulder says.

“I’m probably going to need all the rest I can get, to undo whatever disasters you’ve created in our office while I’ve been gone,” she grumbles, rolling onto her side, getting comfortable.

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I kept that office running just fine before you came along, Scully,” he protests.

“It’s a wonder you managed at all before me, Mulder,” Scully sighs, her eyes closing, her hand releasing his as she starts to drift off.

“It really is,” Mulder whispers as he stands, his voice so quiet that he’s certain she can’t hear him.

But as he leaves, she opens her eyes to watch him go… and she smiles.

One Wrong Move

Dean Winchester x Reader

1550 Words

Story Summary: After a rough night, Dean is woken up to find the reader has not returned home yet. Worried, he goes out looking for her.

This is for the SPN HIATUS WRITING CHALLENGE 2017 - WEEK 1. The prompt is “It’s 8:30, I have a hangover and you’re annoying me.”

Warnings: Angst!! 

Dean’s POV

“Damn it Dean, wake up!” Dean heard Sam yelling at him as he lay sprawled across his bed. Groaning, he picked up his pillow, attempting to cover his head with it, hoping it would make his annoying brother leave him alone for at least a couple more hours.

“Not now. You need to get up!” Sam continued. Cursing, Dean rubbed his eyes, glancing at the bright red numbers on his alarm clock.

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A quick Clexa AU fic list as requested by anon

This is rather chaotic as I’ve put it together real quick and I’ve plenty favorites - I might add more as I remember or as I go through my reading (some are finished, some are on-going). For now though …

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→ gumdrops & lollipops (m)

pairing → Hoseok x Reader (ft. oompa loompa! yoongi & jimin)

☆ genre  →  smut, crack, willy wonka!au
↳  drabble; 2k

→   a visit to jung hoseok’s chocolate factory does not turn out the way you expected it to

a/n → yo, i was finally drunk enough to write this 
i won’t @ her bc she might block me, but jordan is 101% responsible for this. by this i mean the concept, the cute banner, everything. blame her :’‘)

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I’m Not Promise, I Drunk (Pt. III)

Part One, Part Two

Fandom: Riverdale

Pairing: Jughead Jones x reader, BestFriend!Cheryl

Request: Yes and no

Summary: After days of Jughead avoiding her, [Y/N] finally plucks up the courage to fix her mistakes and figure out what was really bothering her ex-boyfriend, but she didn’t expect what had ticked his brain.

Warnings: None

Word count: 4,569

A/N: This is the last part of this mini-series! Hope you guys like it. So sorry that it came so late. I’ve been drowning in school work. The last part of this is very rushed but I hope it’s okay. There will be no other parts to this.

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One Hundred Ways to Say “I Love You”

DRABBLE GAME: so i feel like doing this drabble game with y’all cause im bored and procrastinating. request for any member and as much as you want! you can give me a little idea on what you would like it to be on if you want, it’s cool if you don’t. i just think it would help with giving me inspiration and motivation to write it. this leads me to say, i won’t do everything.

link to original post.

plz read my requesting rules before you request! the only thing that differs from that and this is that you don’t need to give me a description if you don’t want (but highly suggested)!

  1. “Pull over.  Let me drive for a while.”
  2. “It reminded me of you.”
  3. “No, no, it’s my treat.”
  4. “Come here.  Let me fix it.”
  5. “I’ll walk you home.”
  6. “Have a good day at work.”
  7. “I dreamt about you last night.”
  8. “Take my seat.”
  9. “I saved a piece for you.”
  10. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
  11. “You can have half.”
  12. “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”
  13. “Sorry, I’m late.”
  14. “Can I have this dance?”
  15. “I made your favourite.”
  16. “It’s okay.  I couldn’t sleep anyway.”
  17. “Watch your step.”
  18. “Here, drink this.  You’ll feel better.”
  19. “Can I hold your hand?”
  20. “You can borrow mine.”
  21. “You might like this.”
  22. “It’s not heavy.  I’m stronger than I look.”
  23. “I’ll wait.”
  24. “Just because.”
  25. “Look both ways.”
  26. “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to.”
  27. “Try some.”
  28. “Drive safely.”
  29. “Well, what do you want to do?”
  30. “One more chapter.”
  31. “Don’t worry about me.”
  32. “It looks good on you.”
  33. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”
  34. “That’s okay, I bought two.”
  35. “After you.”
  36. “We’ll figure it out.”
  37. “Can I kiss you?”
  38. “I like your laugh.”
  39. “Don’t cry.”
  40. “I made this for you.”
  41. “Go back to sleep.”
  42. “Is this okay?”
  43. “I picked these for you.”
  44. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
  45. “What do you want to watch?”
  46. “You can go first.”
  47. “Did you get my letter?”
  48. “I’ll do it for you.”
  49. “Call me when you get home.”
  50. “I think you’re beautiful.”
  51. “Are you sure?”
  52. “Have fun.”
  53. “Sit down, I’ll get it.”
  54. “I made reservations.”
  55. “I don’t mind.”
  56. “It brings out your eyes.”
  57. “There is enough room for both of us.”
  58. “You don’t have to say anything.”
  59. “Wow.”
  60. “Happy birthday.”
  61. “I’ll pick it up after work.”
  62. “It can wait until tomorrow.”
  63. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
  64. “It’s two sugars, right?”
  65. “I’ll help you study.”
  66. “Stay over.”
  67. “I did the dishes.”
  68. “You didn’t have to ask.”
  69. “I bought you a ticket.”
  70. “You’re warm.”
  71. “No reason.”
  72. “I’ll meet you halfway.”
  73. “Take mine.”
  74. “We can share.”
  75. “I was just thinking about you.”
  76. “I want you to have this.”
  77. “Call me if you need anything.”
  78. “Do you want to come too?”
  79. “I’ll still be here when you’re ready.”
  80. “Is your seat belt on?”
  81. “Sweet dreams.”
  82. “I was in the neighbourhood.”
  83. “Stay there.  I’m coming to get you.”
  84. “The key is under the mat.”
  85. “It doesn’t bother me.”
  86. “You’re important too.”
  87. “I saved you a seat.”
  88. “I’ll see you later.”
  89. “I noticed.”
  90. “You can tell me anything.”
  91. “I hope you like it.”
  92. “I want you to be happy.”
  93. “I believe in you.”
  94. “You can do it.”
  95. “Good luck.”
  96. “I brought you an umbrella.”
  97. “I’ll pick you up at the airport.”
  98. “Take a deep breath.”
  99. “Be careful.”
    And…
  100. “I love you.”
Uninspired

Jughead x Reader

Jughead finds himself having no motivation to write and has trouble finding inspiration even when he changes up his surroundings. Until… 

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,830

A/N: Funny thing is I came across this song by searching “Uninspired” on youtube, because that’s what I am now. Wooooo. That ‘woo’ was sarcasm btw. This song inspired something, but I’m tired of writing things that don’t mean anything. So here’s this. Don’t ask me if it means anything to me cause tbh idk.

The Song

Masterlist


Label you then leave you,

No they won’t stay for the fight,

It’s the closest thing to empty,

And the furthest from the light.

Jughead walks towards the ticket station in the darkness of the night. He buys a one way ticket to Toledo, hoping to never look back.

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Only You

Pairing: Dean x Reader
Words:  1019
Requested by Anonymous:  I have a request how about your Castiel little sister and dean falling in love with you and he can see your wings!



          You could feel him watching you more and more often. You knew what he was thinking without reading his mind. He projected so loudly toward you without even realizing what he was doing.

           You had been drawn to him from the beginning. Ever since your brother had introduced you. But you really had no idea what could come of it. Could anything actually come of it? Could this be something real?

           “You should talk to him,” Castiel said, looking at you seriously.

           “What?” you looked at your brother.

           “Talk to Dean,” he said, “You both have feelings for each other. It’s obvious. Just go talk to him.”

           You studied your brother for a second, “Are you serious? You would approve of Dean and I being together?”

           Castiel nodded, “Of course. He’s my best friend. I know he would treat you right. And you would treat him right as well.

           You smiled, “Thank you, Castiel.”

           “Why are you thanking me?” he asked.

           “Just because.” 

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We thought we could trick them... (seriously if this is shit please tell me. I like it, but I know it has at least 3 major flaws : the Narrator refers to the fae directly, the Pure Math students are overpowered, and they're not nearly blase enough about the whole situation(I have no idea how to fix it though))

We thought we could get one-up on the gentry this time.  We had a lot of fun playing with subspaces and linear maps to get to class on time; we’d just memorize the formulas, step into their domain, and believe only in the math(easy, since we could prove it was true.  The only hard part was forgetting everything else) and…*poof* we were in class the whole time!  People vanished of course, but they had probably dismembered the proofs or something.  Even after half the class vanished, we still had this sense of power; we felt like gods.  

Then they killed Professor Nakayama.  Note that I didn’t say took.  They had tried that, and all that happened was that he was inspired to write 4 research papers, a textbook, and a short story set in 1930’s new york when he arrived a few weeks later.  No.  They got him right in front of us. 

What happened is, is that ‘John’, the stupid little traitor with his stupid hair, walked up to the Professor, and  asked one question.  In any other context it would have been brilliant; he and the professor talked about it for nearly 10 minutes.  No I won’t tell you the fucking question!  Everyone who understood it the first time around who thought about it hard on campus died! You think I’ll expose you to that shit just to satisfy your curiosity? (OK. if you really can’t stand it, I’ll tell you.  But first take information theory with Dr. Casario. Make sure to ask him about infohazards.)

Anyway, as the Professor was thinking, the fucking Karavanserai showed up and tried to grab him.  Of course the Professor ran.  No matter how sneaky you are, if that fake art student ever comes near you, you run.  Actually, run away if any art student comes near you.  Otherwise you’ll spend half the day hearing about how their latest painting will defeat racism or something at best.

Anyways, he ran.  Turns out you don’t end up smeared all over the universe if you think about the trivial isomomorphism while moving to our world from theirs. Instead, you end up twisted into a scale model of the university in the middle of the football field. (It took us 8 weeks of hiding in the chemistry department to prove that.  Half of us vanished in our sleep despite the chemists’ protection.  Never fall asleep while doing proofs.  It’s a bad study habit and the gentry take it as an offer)

So that’s why you need faculty permission to join the theoretical Linear Algebra seminar this year. I know it sucks, but what can you do.  If you want safety and job security and all that overrated stuff, go study applied math.

[x]

snowberri  asked:

For the character meme: Chara!

Thank you for asking! :D

Chara (Undertale)

  • First impression

Honestly? Neutral and mixed feelings after the True Pacifist end. I thought their friendship with Asriel was very touching, but the fact that they manipulated the latter to kill humans… well, it kind of tainted my vision of them and I did not know what to think of them.

  • Impression now

A very complex and interesting character, like every character in Undertale^^! Unfortunately, like Frisk, we do not have that much information about them so they are up to interpretation -which is not bad actually, I personnally like that a lot! And I blame a lot of people like @mintyfreshdoodles@ask-the-floating-heart ​ and @channydraws -among others but mainly you three!!- who made me love Chara XD

  • Favorite moment

*ahem* not a lot of canon moments sadly, but I would pick the moment where Asriel found them and brought them to his family and all those little clues indicating that they were happy with the Dreemurs ;_;

  • Idea for a story

…..I’m going to regret telling it I’m sure but here I go, inspired by the story @caretaker-au , Chara becomes the Caretaker of the ruins and one day, they find various things where the humans fall, including a baby carriage. They’re very confused at first and kind of freaks out when they see there is a baby (alive) in there. After a lot of struggle and a long inner monologue, they bring the baby home and call Asriel and his parents for help, have still some mix feelings and feel weak for not being able to kill such an “easy prey” until baby Frisk (see that coming, didn’t you?) gently grasp their hair with a cute babble.

Then, married Charisk trying to raise their new adopted baby, hilarity (?) ensues and a lot of fluff. :p

  • Unpopular opinion

Hm… I think that maybe the Dreemurs were too lenient and kind to Chara? I mean that they must have been a bit more strict with them, I know some people think (and I agree with them) that if Asriel had told them how Chara sometimes treated him, things might have been different.
If Toriel or Asgore had walked on Chara belittling Asriel or obviously being abusive, I wish they had given them a stern lecure or scolded them. Not too violently of course! But just hard enough to make Chara understand that they could NOT get away with manipulating and abusing Asriel, that such things were wrong and that they would have to face them both and the consequences… but it’s hard to tell if it would vae really helped.

I guess that since Monsters’ main need in life is love, the way they raise their children could be very different from humans. Humans have different needs, even if love is one of them too. And it is possible that Chara was mentally unstable/ill, so it must not be an easy task to take care of them; it is quite obvious that the Dreemurs had no idea of Chara’s state of mind and even if they did, did they have the means to treat them?


  • Favorite Relationship

Chariskriel! Either as friends or OT3 –if friends, add MK to the group^^!

Or daddy Asgore with Chara, not sure why, but I see Chara as a daddy child. I know the way they speak and behave is more related to Toriel, but I have a feeling they were closer to Asgore. (same with Toriel and Asriel).


  • Favorite headcanon

Mind if I put more than one here?
Narrator!Chara.
Chara loved to read fairytales (but hid it) and the reason they went to Mt Ebott was because they hoped they would find their way either down a rabbithole or anything to a better world where they would find somebody to love and who would love them back.

anonymous asked:

pls dont ever stay away from gramander bc i love your arts and your fic ideas <333

ANON. YOU ARE SO FUCKING SWEET. OHMYGOSH??
I JUST GOT INTO THIS SHIP, I’M NOT JUMPING OUT YET (you will be seeing a LOT more Gramander, lemme just tell you)
It’s just my finals week, which is why I’ve been trying to stay away and am not as active with drawing as I would like :’D

WHICH. I WOULD LIKE TO SAY NOW: IF YOU’VE SENT ME AN ASK AND I HAVE NOT REPLIED- IT’S NOT BECAUSE I’M IGNORING YOU OMG PLEASE DON’T THINK THAT!
I’m just trying to get through school so that I can actually draw something that isn’t too half-assed in reply! Or I’ve been trying to draw something but the results aren’t what I want :’0
I will get to your asks eventually! I’m so sorry! I know it’s taking a long time I swear to God I’m not just being a selective asshole Q-Q

I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH

anonymous asked:

Could you sign this please? roxy-davenport tumblr /post/161048806171/ lexie-carver-supernatural-season-13-boycott

Urgh this is the third time this was sent to me on anon - the first two times I deleted it. 

No I will not sign this. I have no idea what went on behind the scenes and for a show that has gone on for as long as it has with little to no drama I am not about to start a riot with little to no facts on the matter. 

Yes Mark doesn’t seem please in his tweet at all and that sucks. Yes I loved Crowley and I love Mark and would love to see him continue on the show BUT I also loved Jim/Bobby and I am still heartbroken over the loss of that character (yeah I know he still visit but it is not the same). 

The real reason I will not sign is I would be telling a lie. I will be watching in October with or without Crowley. Honestly I would probably still be watching with or without Cas as much as that would break my heart. I have been watching with out Cas for three years and Crowley for four. I can do that again as much as it pains me. 

Let’s see how all of this plays out when the water’s calm. Mark are usually pretty honest so I am sure we will get his full side of the story sooner or later. 

I am not gonna comment on this anymore. I am not gonna sign. Please respect that and thank you. 

Blank Space

Here is Part Two in “This Love”

Pairing: Jensen x Reader
Words:  1286

-Jensen and the reader talk about what happened-

Warning: angst. talk of miscarriage.

A/N: If you want tagged, send me an ask.


         It had been a week since Jensen left the house and went to stay with Jared and Genevieve. Genevieve had stayed the first two nights, only going home during the day, but you insisted that she go home to be with her husband and her boys where she needed to be. While your husband was at her house as well.

           Your heart felt like it wasn’t even in your chest anymore. Like all the little broken pieces were being swept away every time you thought about Jensen not being there. Which was every second of the long week.

           Filming had been hard, but you were an actress. You could pretend for everyone else that you and Jensen were still together. You could pretend that nothing was wrong. You could last until you got home to break down and cry yourself to sleep night after night.

           The hardest part was going to bed alone. There was too much room. Jensen’s side of the bed being empty was the hardest pill for you to swallow. You missed him. You missed his warmth. You didn’t know if you would ever have him with you again.

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Concept:

Adrien Agreste is desperate. He’s tried asking Nino, but his friend sort of tripped his way into his relationship with Alya by mistake, and he’s not too proud to admit it. Plagg is no help. He’s asked Natalie, only to get a blank look. Plagg is NO help. Adrien’s even asked Gorilla. The man stared at him through the rearview mirror for a full minute before he burst out laughing and didn’t stop even after he dropped Adrien off at school. It was hard not to pout all day.

So now, Adrien is doing what he should have done in the first place - it’s SO obvious, after all. I mean, obviously HE’D be an expert.

‘Come in.’

Adrien walks into his father’s study with shoulders pushed back in his dad’s preferred posture.

‘What did you need?’ his father asked without looking up from his designs, seven different sketched clothes articles being shuffled around to create various combinations.

‘Yeah,’ Adrien said, trying to channel as much of Chat Noir as he could, ‘so dad, you and mum, huh?’

Gabriel’s hand paused delicately where it was poised over a pair of tan women’s trousers.

'I mean, you two…. Got together and everything, you know?’

Adrien watched in fascination as his father’s eyebrows rose very slowly. He wasn’t sure if it was a good sign so he went on.

'And mum was pretty. I mean, REAL pretty. Well of course she was pretty she was a model. But she was. Nice, I mean. And you TALKED to her. And it WORKED. Of course it worked, she married you and you had ME.’

Gabriel Agreste looked like he was almost afraid to talk, but he put the sketches down, steepled his fingers and finally looked up at his son.

'What are you asking exactly, Adrien? I thought Natalie had adequately covered the topic of human sexual reproduction even before you joined College?’

'Not that, dad!’ Adrien replied, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. 'I know all about that. Natalie tested me and everything and I got top marks. I’m asking about all the rest! That’s more important!’

Gabriel Agreste’s eyebrows joined his hairline. He managed to look vaguely nauseous, which was the face he made when he was in any way flustered or uncomfortable.

'All… The rest.’

'Yes!’ Adrien replied, the word exploding out of him when he couldn’t contain it anymore. A river of more words followed it once it had split the dam. 'The flowers and the complements, and the manners and kissing her hand, and being a gentleman! All of that! But I’ve tried it all and it hasn’t worked, so I MUST be doing something wrong! But you landed MUM, so you must have done something really right, so please dad, please teach me?’

Gabriel Agreste may as well be speechless for the first time in his life. He managed, 'What?’

'How to ask out a pretty girl!’ Adrien said in moan. 'The right way! So she says yes!’

Gabriel took off his spectacles to give himself time to think, polishing them off a silk hanky he always carried in his pocket, to give himself time to think. He didn’t think he’d be thinking about this already. But that was the problem with thinking. Once he put them back on, he’d formulated a reasonable response.

'I would like to know who the young lady in question is, before we go any further.’

Adrien’s brain went into panic mode. Darn, darn darn darn, he hadn’t thought of this! What was he going to say? He couldn’t say Ladybug obviously, his dad would never buy it. Quick, think of girls he knew! Girls he knew, girls he knew- ah! Girls from his class! Let’s see; Chloe- ah ah, hard nope, no way. Alya- nope, no way again, bro code. Mylene, yeah, super taken. Alix….. Just no. Darn it all, all he could think of were black hair and blue eyes and - hang on!

'Marinette Dupain-Cheng,’ Adrien squeaked. He hoped his cheeks feeling hot meant he would convince his father. Gabriel stared at him for a moment before he buzzed Natalie from the intercom on his desk.

'Natalie, send me the file of Dupain-Cheng Marinette from the College research folder.’

'Yes sir,’ Natalie chirped back. A few moments of heavy sweating later - for Adrien - his father’s phone pinged, and Gabriel picked it up, thumbing through whatever Natalie had sent. One eyebrow rose higher than the other in the expression his father often made when he was pleasantly surprised. Somehow, Adrien was irrationally pleased his father approved of Marinette, even though he realised he was now totally screwed.

'Designed an album for Jagged Stone,’ his father said, sounding reluctantly impressed. 'You will invite her to dinner next week.’

Gabriel put his phone down, seemingly done with the decision. Adrien tried desperately one more time.

'But, the advice!’

Gabriel looked him straight in the eyes.

'What I’m about to tell you does not leave this room,’ he said solemnly.

'Yes father!’ Adrien replied eagerly.

'The secret,’ Gabriel went on solemnly, 'is puns.’

'I knew it!’ Adrien hissed under his breath.

'Ah, but not just any puns,’ Gabriel admonished. 'That is why you have been unsuccessful. You need to find her interests, formulate humourous sentence arrangements. Drop them with the correct TIMING. Timing is crucial, especially in one particular way.’

Adrien fairly vibrated in his seat as he leaned forward, waiting for his dad to finally tell him the secret.

'You must take her hand, gently. Look her in the eyes, and tell her, without fanfare, how you feel about her. And how that makes you feel: in that order, son. Then, and only then, must you drop a very smart pun, about something she loves, and beg her to consider giving you a chance. Then walk away, let her think about it, and maybe drop another pun on your way out. Make her laugh, so that when she remembers you, she will smile. She’ll call you back within the week.’

Gabriel was smiling for the first time in a whole year, that Adrien remembered. He looked misty eyed and far away before he snapped out of it.

'Natalie,’ he said into the buzzer again, 'contact mlle Dupain-Cheng, invite her to dinner Friday week.’

'Yes sir. I will inform cook and the household.’

'Good.’ Gabriel looked at his son with a determined look on his face. 'I will allow you to see how it is done during this first dinner. I will then expect you to try and learn, with practice, during following invitations. Do not let me down.’

'No sir!’ Adrien replied excitedly. He raced to his room, almost bouncing giddily with joy at how helpful his dad had been. Real advice! With practice!

Then he froze when he realised he was going to be practicing on his sweet, shy classmate, who was likely going to get the entirely wrong idea, and who he had absolutely not the courage to come clean with; not on this.

'Darn’, he hissed into his room. Plagg ignored him and continued to eat his cheese noisily.

Six Years and Seven Days

This is pretending that Bellamy could hear Clarke talking all those years, she just can’t hear him responding, and that the ship at the end is them coming back to Earth. 

So…pain. 


Day Three

“Bellamy…are you up there? Are you alive? Is anyone alive?”

Static.

“I only woke up yesterday. At least, I think it was yesterday. I barely made it into the bunker in time, but I made it. And the computer says it’s been three days since the radiation hit, and I was so hungry I thought I might die. Please tell me you didn’t die.”

Silence.

“Bellamy, my mom was right. In a way. My face is disgusting, covered in boils. You’d be laughing at me…probably. Because she was right but so were you. I’m not dead Bellamy. I hope you aren’t either.”

His fingers slammed on the respond button, pushing it down to the point of it feeling like it would crack from the pressure.

“I’m not dead, Clarke. I’m not dead.”

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Mutually Assured Dating

‘You were singing really loudly in the shower when I broke into your apartment but then i heard you slip and crash and oh god i should probably check on you in case i get done for murder instead of just robbery’ AU


It took all of fourteen seconds for Derek to realize he was in the wrong apartment.

First, he noticed the very large and scuffed up sneakers and boots ditched haphazardly kind of near the door but half into the living room. Cora was meticulous about her shoes and kept them neatly arranged in a shoe rack right next to the door. The only time they touched the floor was when her feet were in them.

Second, the stuff. There was so much stuff everywhere; clothes thrown over the back of the couch, dishes across the coffee table and all over the kitchen counters, books on every surface, a gaming console dragging wires across the floor and surrounded by games, in cases and out of them. Cora was an unintentional minimalist, in that she threw out anything she didn’t need and lacked a single sentimental bone in her body. Derek and Laura regularly made trips to wherever she lived to save family keepsakes and memories from her ruthless cleaning sprees.

Then he noticed the manly warble coming from somewhere deeper in the apartment, and Cora’s favorite topic of rant floated lazily to the forefront of his mind.

—but my neighbor, oh my god this guy! I’m going to kill him if I ever see him in the hall! His bathroom shares a wall with my bedroom and he sings in the shower, every shower, at all hours. Literally all hours, like 4am, and he only sings Christmas carols at 4am. I’ve have Jingle Bells stuck in my head for a week! 

Shoes, stuff, singing.

This was not Cora’s apartment.

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No, Wait, You Got it All Wrong

You know what there’s not enough of? Canon compliant future fic where Stiles is a cop and he runs into Derek again. What’s that you say? There’s a ton of that?? Yes, true, but NOT ENOUGH.

“…. so then he says, ‘No, Officer, I swear to God this is the first time I’ve ever smoked up! I’ve never been in trouble with the law in my life! And I say, Billy, my man, you’ve been in trouble with me personally twice this month.” Stiles snorts at the memory. “Kid was so fucking high.”

Amanda must be halfway past tipsy, because she laughs uproariously into her beer at the mediocre punchline.

Stiles smiles. He’s satisfied with her reaction, with the warm murmur of the bar, with the buzz he’s got going… with just about everything, actually. After tonight, he’s looking at two full days off before he’s back on the beat, and the night’s still young. He leans back in his chair and takes a pull of his beer, savoring it.

Amanda glances towards the bar, probably considering a fourth round, and then visibly perks up as something near the front catches her eye.

“Oooh, Stiles,” she croons. “Look over at the door, like, just glance over.” She’s adjusted her gaze down at the table now, faking casual disinterest. Badly.

Stiles raises his eyebrows at her.

“This dude just walked in, he’s so your type,” she hisses. “C’mon, look! I’m telling you, six feet two inches of ‘yes, please, give it to me’ muscles, with some salt-and-pepper scruff icing. Unff.”

“Eh,” Stiles says, tipping his weight forward to hunch over the table. It’s not that he isn’t interested, exactly, but this is a cop bar and he doesn’t want to shit where he eats. Metaphorically.

“No, really,” Amanda insists. “He's… oh my God, he’s looking over here. He’s looking at you. Oh my God, Stiles, he’s coming over here!”

“No, he isn’t,” Stiles scoffs. He’s filled out a bit from high school and he’s finally competent at styling his hair, but he’s not that hot. Only Amanda’s sitting straight like a rod, eyes fixed on a point behind him that’s about where a six foot two man’s eyes would be.

“Stiles?”

He turns then, shooting to his feet before his brain’s quite caught up, because that voice is familiar like the back of his own hand.

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