it made me feel like she was talking about herself even before the accident

When Duty and Desire Meet Chapter 4

Art by @edendaphne , words by moi!

Summary: After their accidental kiss on Valentine’s day, both Marinette and Chat Noir have to deal with the emotional fallout of their actions.

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Valentine’s Day Part 2

“So, let me get this straight,” Alya said, leaning back against Marinette’s desk chair and steepling her fingers. Beside her, on a little table-cushion Marinette had made, Tikki slept soundly, having already heard the story a thousand times over. “You’re in love with Chat Noir.”

“You already knew that,” Marinette groaned from her chaise, hugging a cushion to her chest and leaning back like a Freudian patient. Lord knows she was about three sentences away from a therapy-inducing hissy fit regardless, so it was probably prudent of her to be lying down in such a way. She was preparing for her inevitable breakdown that’s all. It was the smart thing to do.

And she rarely did the smart thing nowadays it seemed, so she really needed this.

“You’ve been in love with Chat as Ladybug for like a bajillion years,” Alya continued, ignoring Marinette as she continued to rehash pointless details. Details which made Marinette want to bludgeon herself to death with her cushion.

It was most likely impossible to do such a thing but she was never one to back down from a challenge. Death by cushion- she’d find a way.

“Yes. We’ve already established that,” she replied through gritted teeth, said cushion slowly creeping up to cover her face.

“But last night you kissed him by accident,” Alya said.

“Uh-huh.”

“As Marinette.”

“That is correct sir,” Marinette wiggled a finger.

“And he gave you a rose and kissed you back.”

“Tru’ dat.”

It was indicative of Marinette’s deteriorating mental state that she’d said “Tru’ dat”. She’d never said “Tru’ dat” in her whole life.

“I see,” Alya nodded a few times. The fact her tone had remained neutral the whole time was doing nothing to help Marinette’s poor nerves, and so she swung her legs over the side of her chaise, sitting up to get a better view of Alya’s twinkling eyes. A sense of dread settled in Marinette’s stomach. Alya’s eye-twinkles were never a good thing, at least when they were directed towards her.

I see?! Is that all you have to say? Seriously?! I thought you’d be freaking out right now, I mean I’m freaking out but then I ALWAYS freak out. You not freaking out is making me freak out harder! Can you please freak out with me? Join me in the freak out zone already!” Marinette blabbed, waving her arms and promptly dropping the cushion to the ground.

Alya said nothing, instead choosing to raise an eyebrow at her and cross her legs. At least she’d stopped steepling her fingers, Marinette thought gruffly.

After a short pause, Alya finally spoke, but her voice wobbled and strained unnaturally, her lips thinned in a way that was entirely too suspicious. “Firstly, stop saying freak out, secondly I’m not freaking out because this is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

She barely made it to the end of her sentence before she doubled over and descended into giggles.

It was in that moment that Marinette realised Alya’s peculiar behaviour had been due to her hiding her amusement, and she felt fully justified in yanking the cushion from its position on the floor and hurling it towards her supposed ‘best friend forever.’

Unfortunately, Alya dodged the fluffy projectile with ease.

“Come on, this is serious! I’m in hot water here!” Marinette cried, crossing her arms across her chest.

“When are you not though? Let’s be real,” the redhead shot back with a wry grin, twirling in the chair and kicking backwards to check her hair in the small vanity mirror on Marinette’s desk. The sight made Marinette relax a little. Alya only checked her hair with such scrutiny when she was seriously contemplating something.

Suddenly missing the comforting embrace of the cushion, Marinette flopped down once more. As her back hit the large pillows adorning her chaise, she let out a long sigh and all the fear, the panic, the fight, left her in one fell swoop. Only tiredness and uncertainty remained.

“How am I going to face him?” she whispered. Her head tilted towards her small, round window, to the afternoon sun beaming down in a total antithesis to her feelings. She wondered where Chat Noir was at that moment.

Did she cross his mind?

Over the years Marinette had asked herself that question more times than she could count. But it was different now. Now she wondered if Chat thought of her, of Marinette, not of Ladybug. Did he dwell on it- how they’d kissed? She had. She’d thought about it all night, until exhaustion had finally overcome her and she’d woken up late, cold, wanting something she could barely comprehend.

For years, she’d thought about what it would mean to kiss Chat Noir, Dark Cupid incident aside considering she couldn’t even remember it.

A small, involuntary whimper left her when she recalled the night before. The kiss had been an accident… at first. But the second she felt Chat’s lips press into hers was burned into her memory, playing over and over again. The moment he returned her kiss had ignited something dormant inside her and she felt raw, emotions exposed and unlocked, with nowhere to hide.

She considered her question again. How on earth could she face him as Ladybug, knowing what she did, knowing him the way he didn’t know he knew her (and god wasn’t that sentence confusing in and of itself)?

For God’s sake Marinette, it was a peck of a kiss at the most, pull yourself together!

“You’ll figure it out.”

Alya’s voice sounded lightyears away, so stuck was Marinette in her own musings. She jumped, a little sheepishly, and realised she hadn’t noticed Alya coming over to her until the spinning desk chair was pressed right by the chaise. The next moment, Alya’s hands were in her hair. Having thoroughly fixed her own short curls, she now concentrated on the silky strands of Marinette’s loose locks, braiding little plaits as if they were children at a sleepover.

Marinette let her. Two perfectly groomed heads were better than one.

“You think you can talk to him about it? As you I mean, not Ladybug,” Alya suggested, quickly clarifying her meaning whilst tugging the red ribbons loose from Marinette’s dark hair.

Snorting in response, Marinette couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Talk? To Chat? The very idea…

“Yeah sure, let me just tweet at him Ayla. Hashtag balcony make-outs,” she giggled, feeling a little better as her hair fell around her shoulders.

Foregoing the braids, Alya reached up and began tying something new into Marinette’s hair, tutting in disapproval. “Slide into the DM’s at least girl, I raised you better than that.”

They shared a laugh, settling into a comfortable silence as Alya worked on both sides of her hair. Marinette sat back and mulled over her options. Truth be told she didn’t have many. She couldn’t talk to Chat, after all it wasn’t likely he’d be back and she had no idea who he was in real life. The notion that she could talk to him as Ladybug, thus revealing herself, made her rapidly descend into a panic so sharp that she quickly pushed that thought to the side.

Really there was nothing else to do but call it what it was. A blip. A crazy alignment of stars which had given her a taste of everything she’d wanted for the past four years, a reminder that it was probably all she was going to get.

She tried not to let the disappointment settle in her bones, yet it was fruitless. Her chest ached as though a hole had been carved there.

Suffice to say it was a familiar ache where Chat was concerned, but it was bigger now.

“There. Done,” Alya pulled back, pleased with her work, and Marinette stood. Stepping over to the vanity mirror, she leaned down to check her reflection. “Matching colours for you and the bae,” she teased, eyebrows wiggling from underneath her rounded glasses.

Marinette threw the cushion at her again, feeling a smug sense of satisfaction as it smacked her right in the face.

At the very least, she had the Gaming Club that night, that would provide a very welcome distraction.

***

Adrien was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Which was ironic, considering he’d joined the Gaming Club to avoid that exact thing from happening.

“I can’t do this, I’m going to cancel,” he whimpered, hiding out in the bathroom a floor above their usual meeting place like the coward he was.

“So cancel,” Plagg shrugged, busy amusing himself with unfurling a roll of toilet paper- as per his usual hobby.

“I can’t cancel!” Adrien replied, horror struck as he gazed at himself in the mirror. His fingers gripped the sides of the sink so hard that his knuckles turned white. “Are you insane?!”

“So don’t cancel,” Plagg’s disinterested monotone was really starting to grate on him. “Honestly kiddo what do you want me to say and will it get me food faster?”

The resounding groan from Adrien’s throat was so despairing in nature that he was afraid he’s start rumours of a ghost haunting the building. He leaned on his elbows, burying his face into his hands.

Stupid. He’d been so, so, stupid. And reckless! Totally reckless. What had he been thinking?!

It was worth it though, a small, unchecked part of him thought. Adrien squashed it flat in an instant. After all there was no time to consider the fluttering in his chest, the pleasant swoop of his stomach. Now was the time to face the consequences of his actions. His incredibly foolish, totally moronic actions.

Because, although a part of him ignited, burned in the best possible way, at the memory of Marinette’s lips against his own, another part felt thoroughly ashamed. It felt like he was tricking her in some way. Granted that had never been his intention. His plan had been simple. Leave the rose on her balcony for her to discover. She’d never know it was him and be happy at the gift from a secret admirer. Obviously, things hadn’t worked out the way he planned, though he should have anticipated that.

When had things ever gone the way he planned?

He needed to apologise to her, as Chat, and he was going to do so that night in fact. But before that Adrien needed to pretend, he needed to lie, to Marinette. To the girl he loved. He needed to act like he hadn’t heard her soft sigh, felt the warmth of her skin and the taste of her cherry-blossom lips. He had to fake it, act like it had never happened.

He had to pretend he didn’t desperately want it to happen again.

The idea of being so fake made him ill, and so he placed his hands under the cold water tap to splash his face, allowing the iciness of the water to penetrate his senses and offer him some much-needed clarity.

It didn’t really work but it was the best he could do.

When he entered the Gaming Club, Plagg tucked securely inside his jacket pocket, he was relieved to see Marinette talking to other people. He could barely look at her, the meagre glimpse he’d gotten from across the room had sent his heart cartwheeling down the corridor and somewhere into the next arrondissement.

Not wanting to look suspicious, and fully admitting that he was stalling for time, Adrien wandered over to the desk where Nino was hooking up an old Nintendo console for one of their signature Mario Kart nights.

Mario Kart…Marinette…partners… sitting close together… oh no.

“Hey bro!” Nino chirped, offering Adrien a fist to bump, clearly not noticing how the blood had completely drained from his friend’s face. “Everything ok?”

“H-hey! Everything’s good!” The first lie of the evening. How could Adrien have forgotten it was a Mario Kart night? More importantly, how was he going to survive the evening now? Sitting next to Marinette, shoulders pressed together, watching her tongue poke out in concentration like it normally did? How could he concentrate on anything knowing how close he’d been to said tongue the night before?

Grow up Adrien! You aren’t some horny teenager and Marinette isn’t a prize to be objectified. Show her some respect already!

If Nino had thought Adrien’s reaction was strange, he didn’t show it. Together they settled into an easy conversation, Adrien helping his friend set up the old console. Focusing on such a menial task did wonders for his nerves. He was almost starting to feel normal. Almost.

Of course, just as he was beginning to relax, Marinette had to tap him lightly on the shoulder.

She might as well have given him a 1.21 gigawatt electric shock, given his reaction to both was about the same. If he’d been Chat Noir at the time, his superpowers might have actually propelled him through the ceiling.

“A-Adrien?” Marinette tilted her head, taken aback by his startled shriek. “Are you ok?”

Subconsciously, Adrien’s hand reached up and he clutched his chest, fingers burying into his jumper as if it would cure the frantic beating of his wild heart.

Because she was there, right in front of him. Marinette. The girl he’d kissed last night.

His eyes flicked down to her lips before he could help himself.

“Adrien?”

The second time her voice permeated through his cloudy mind, something snapped inside of him. It was as if he were a character in a film, once played in slow motion, now fast-forwarding.

“Hey!” he cried, louder than he intended, and the people around him turned to stare. He looked at her eyes instead, with far more intensity than normal, mainly because he was so intent on not looking at her lips any more. “Marinette! It’s my friend- Marinette! My good friend, I’m good! How are you? You good- good? Yeah, I’m good, friend. How are you? Did you have a good Valentine’s day?”

WHAT?! Adrien’s brain-filter kicked in far too late, but began screaming at him nonetheless. Why would you ask her that? WHY?! You know how it went! YOU WERE THERE!

Marinette blinked, and it proved just how far gone he was that he found her blinking adorable.

Her blinking.

“Umm,” she blushed, unsure of what to say and, honestly, Adrien couldn’t blame her. He sounded insane even to his own ears, and he’d just asked her something quite private. Actually, he was surprised she wasn’t berating him for it. Then again, she thought he didn’t know about her encounter with Chat Noir.  His words may have seemed innocent to her ears.

What a mess Adrien had gotten himself into, and it only seemed to grow worse with every bit of word-vomit he expelled.

(Was it bad that he felt a tiny bit of pride at her blushing? Probably. But he was going to hell anyway so he might as well enjoy the slow descent at least a little bit.)

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Marinette glanced baffled at Nino, whom Adrien could see shrugging from his peripheral vision.

But he couldn’t care less.

Because he’d just noticed her hair. Or, more specifically, how she was wearing it.

In place of the red ribbons usually tied into her loose black locks, were two green ones instead. Vivid green. Chat Noir green.

His brain collapsed in on itself.

“I’m good-good too.”

Marinette was teasing him. She was grinning and she had green ribbons in her hair and Adrien was going to DIE.

“Good! That’s good!”

Great. He’d always wanted to die sounding like a partially strangled mongoose.

Marinette, mercifully, took pity on him and waved a controller in his face, offering him a place in the first race of the evening. He sighed, relaxing a little, but only a little. Gaming was fine. It was a welcome distraction, as long as he didn’t sit too close to her he’d be fine (who was he kidding? Of course he was going to sit close to her). At least, when he was focused on blue shells and Bullet Bills his brain couldn’t fixate on the meaning behind Marinette’s ribbons, if there was any hidden symbolism he was missing.

Suddenly the thought of seeing her that night, of apologising, seemed that much more dangerous- forbidden almost. But he had to do it. He owed it to her as her friend. Even if that’s all he could ever hope to be.

Nino still hadn’t finished setting up, and a few other members began helping him in their eagerness to get started. As a result, Adrien found himself more alone with Marinette than ever.

They sat down on the floor, controllers in hands, side by side. Their shoulders brushed, like they always did.

Adrien swallowed, wishing he’d worn a t-shirt instead of the woollen monstrosity currently overheating him.

He was fairly sure he was going to lose the game spectacularly.

His fears were proved right when, later that evening, Marinette’s knee brushed against his own and he ended up sending Donkey Kong careening off the end of Rainbow Road.

It was going to be a long night.

***

For the fifteenth time that evening, Marinette called herself an idiot.

Because she was an idiot. An idiot for standing on her balcony, an idiot for hoping lightning would strike twice in the same spot, an idiot for following her heart…

Tightly wrapping her cardigan around her, she gazed out into the mocking skyline. The bitterness of the cold February air was nothing compared to the bitterness she felt building up like sludge in her chest. Bitterness in her fortunes, bitterness in her decisions, bitterness in her own feelings.

Distantly, Marinette thanked the stars that at least it wasn’t as cold as it usually was. She was thankful she had a tiny shred of dignity left at least- that she wasn’t freezing to death in the vain hope that Chat Noir would show up again.

She reached up, fingers brushing against her lips, and remembered.

Furious with herself, Marinette shook her head, as if the rough gesture would expel all the unwanted memories from her mind. Honestly what was she doing acting like a silly sixteen-year-old with a crush? Again?! It was desperate, obsessive, ridiculous-

And totally in character if she was being honest with herself.

She needed a break. A breather. A respite from her own whirlwind emotions regarding the man in the black mask, the man who’d held her heart for longer than she cared to admit to anyone- not even Alya.

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Marinette let out one last frustrated sigh before turning on her heels and making her way back to her room. Maybe her room would be less of a reminder, would save her from her torment.

But, as usual, fate had other plans for her.

Because, of course, Chat Noir happened to be standing there as if he’d suddenly popped into existence.

The shock of seeing him sent Marinette stumbling backwards with a cry, tripping over a flowerpot and tumbling to the ground.

“Whoa!” Chat called, rushing forward to catch her just in time. One hand gripped her flailing wrist, the other pressed against the small of her back as he pulled her towards him.

For a moment, both of them froze in place. Chat’s fingers splayed across her back, and she briefly felt the edges of his clawed-gloves scratching gently against the fabric of her cardigan. An involuntary shiver ran up her spine before she could control it.

Chat’s eyes widened and he stepped out of their half-embrace with awkward, jittery movements, casting his face away from hers. “Sorry,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry I shouldn’t have startled you. I guess I have a bad habit.”

Bad habit huh? Marinette had one of those too.

The silence which settled on them both was heavy, uncomfortable, and borderline unbearable. It was laden with memories of the night before, swirling around them, echoing in their minds as though they were standing in an empty theatre, watching their mistakes projected on a screen with no means of escape.

Because it was a mistake… wasn’t it? She hadn’t meant to kiss him, he probably regretted kissing her back. That was why he was here- of that she was sure. To think he was here for any other reason was just asking for a broken heart.

But, oh god, it hadn’t been a mistake. Not to her. She couldn’t ever consider it to be such.

Finally, Marinette could take the silence no longer. Taking a deep breath, she fixed a smile onto her face, painted a picture of a girl who had herself together at least a little, and placed a hand on her hip.

“No rose tonight?”

Chat’s cat-ears twitched. He peered over at her with a puzzled frown before he realised she was teasing. Something dark crossed his eyes and Marinette forgot how to breathe. The look was gone before she could concentrate on it fully, and she found that he was smiling back at her.

“Err, n-no. No. That is- I mean- unfortunately not,” he replied with his signature bow. “But I do have something far more important.”

“Oh really?” Marinette squeaked, inwardly cringing at how lame she sounded. She’d wanted her voice to be sensual and teasing, but instead it sounded like she’d inhaled a ton of helium instead. Clearing her throat, she tried again, arching her eyebrow for good measure and all the while thrilled at the fact that he was simply there. Chat Noir was there. He’d come back to her. “What’s that?”

“An apology.”

Marinette’s blood ran cold.

“About last night,” Chat continued, shuffling from foot to foot, completely unaware of how Marinette’s body, mind, and heart had seized up all at once. “I feel like I made a terrible impression. I- well- I’m not the type of guy to do… what I did.”

From the depths of despair and panic, Marinette felt the faintest hints of confusion. She latched onto it. Confusion was better than rejection.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice small and vulnerable, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Well I’m not really a playboy or anything, despite what the media likes to speculate about me. I don’t kiss strangers on balconies. I guess, I didn’t want you to have the wrong impression about me.”

When Marinette hung her head, Chat felt a wave of regret wash over him. He’d practiced what he wanted to say, over and over again but it never seemed enough to fully explain himself- not without revealing to her that he was Adrien Agreste and he’d been lying to her this entire time. He was too afraid of the ramifications of that- so he needed to end this now- before he hurt her.

Damn it, he’d gotten so close though. So close to knowing what they could have- what they could be.

But it was a fantasy. Chat Noir was a large part of him, but it wasn’t all of him. The person he was behind the mask was locked away from Marinette, was a separate entity in her eyes.

Who was he fooling? They couldn’t be together. Not like this.

He had to try harder as Adrien and if she rejected him he would simply pick up the pieces of his broken heart. He would respect her, be her friend, move on, and certainly not use Chat Noir’s hero status as a means to trick her into loving him. She deserved better, deserved the world, even if he wasn’t the one to give it to her.

That’s why he had to leave. Right now. Being here, being this close to her, was crumbling his resolve. Every cute gesture she made was another step closer to his damnation. He had to leave before he said or did something he’d regret, before his principles were lost to the wind.

“It was Valentine’s day. I guess… it’s easy to get swept up in the romance of the day, right?” Marinette said. She was smiling, but the sparkle in her eyes was dulled somehow. Once again Chat’s attention was drawn to the green ribbons in her hair, as she quickly tucked a few strands behind her ears. He couldn’t bring herself to speak as she grew distant, deep in her own thoughts, and her shoulders raised. “But if we’re being honest Chat, I was worried you’d see me in a bad light too. Like- I mean- I’m not the kind of girl who kisses random celebrities and I’m certainly not the type to blab to the press about it either.”

“I didn’t ever think you were,” he uttered, swallowing thickly, and a little bit of sparkle returned to Marinette’s eyes. Her cheeks turned pink again.

Chat felt his claws digging painfully into his palms.

“Well… that’s a relief. I mean I always admired you,” Marinette stammered out the confession before she meant to, quickly covering her blunder with half-truths. “You know you saved me once- from an akuma. You didn’t notice me at the time, and it was years ago, but I never forgot.”

Chat felt as though he’d been physically struck by her words.

He’d saved her? He’d saved Marinette? And he hadn’t noticed her?!

“I wish I’d seen you,” he said before he could help himself. The rest of his desires remained unsaid, as new possibilities, new what ifs, formed in his mind- like an alternate reality.

Chat inwardly cringed. No way in hell was he going to get any sleep that night.

“I wish you’d seen me too,” Marinette admitted.

Chat’s hand was halfway to hers before he yanked it back, his heart beating wildly, his mind screaming at him to leave. The pull was almost tangible, magnetic, drawing him closer to her. It was dangerous, and he needed to leave.

“I hate to be a sundae, but I have to split!” he laughed, high and fake, all the while cringing at what was perhaps the worst pun he’d ever made. And that was saying something.

Marinette didn’t say anything, but laughed once.

Ok, she thought, maybe she was ridiculous, but he was equally so. Maybe that’s why she loved him so much.

She watched him make his way to the edge of the balcony and something stirred inside her, the raw feelings which had sparked when their lips had met woke from their slumber, and she reached out to touch his shoulder.

“Chat?” her voice matched the soft tremors echoing through her body, and she tried to remember to breathe. She couldn’t let him leave like this, she’d been so close. “How about…one last kiss?”

Chat stilled, statue-like. His lips parted, and Marinette panicked.

“I mean!” she corrected, face turning to flames, “I mean sorry that was dumb- so dumb. It’s just that I- I liked that kiss and I thought- I don’t know what I thought- but I wanted to-”

His lips crashed into hers, and the rest of Marinette’s sentence was lost forever.

Chat kissed her, kissed her with a resolve thoroughly destroyed and a heart so indescribably owned; owned by her, possessed by her, consumed by her. His hands were frantic, and Marinette matched him in every way as they pressed into each other. Her fingers gripped the back of his head, tangled in his hair, and pulled him closer.

Like he needed an excuse to get closer to her.

The pair of them moved apart to breathe, great shuddering breaths, and then their lips were together again- as neither of them could stand to be apart for a moment. Chat’s fingers slid from her hands to grip her hips, a primal, dark part of him triumphant as he heard a moan slip from Marinette’s mouth.

They stumbled backwards, towards the wall, and Chat pressed her against it, hands roaming her sides- never going too far- always listening to her reactions. Desire coursed through him, a need to please her, to make her moan again, without pushing too far.

She must have sensed him falter, sensed his caution, as a frustrated hum rose from the back of her throat, almost like a purr of her own. Her hands moved from his hair, gripping the bell around his throat, and she tugged him down towards her, kissing his neck.

Chat was having a hard time not passing out from that alone, but then she rolled her hips, making it so there wasn’t a sliver of streetlight between them, and he was fairly certain he died and was reborn on the spot.

Dangerous was the word whispering in his mind, the word he was ignoring as his hands cupped the sides of Marinette’s face, tilting her head back. She arched into him again, countering his movements like a dance, and he gasped.

It felt too natural, too perfect… almost…familiar.

Dangerous he thought as his tongue flicked against her lips.

Dangerous- he thought as her mouth opened and he was rewarded with another moan.

Stop. Stop before you can’t, he pleaded with himself as Marinette’s hands wrapped around his shoulders, her fingernails scratching against his neck.

He didn’t stop.

They kissed for what seemed like hours, passion moving from an explosive force to one of slow-burning sensuality, settling into a rhythm that was far too natural, but neither of them could bring themselves to mind.

It was a long time before Chat could bring himself to leave her, to stop kissing her. It was addictive, intoxicating, and filled with promise. For months his heart had been starved, yearning and wishing, and now it was real. Their kisses were real, her affections were real.

And so was her voice, ringing out in the coldness of the night, in answer to his question, “May I see you tomorrow night, Princess?”

There was a pause, both of them treading on thin ice, ice which slowly creaked and groaned beneath their feet.

“Yes,” she breathed, and the ice shattered, plunging them both into unknown depths.

(art to follow)

Moving on After Fred Weasley Passes Away - Headcanon/Would Include

Warnings: This broke my heart to write):


  • You wouldn’t cry much towards the beginning. Of course when the news hit a barricade of tears fell freely but after that, you learned how to bottle it all up. Everything was so unreal you weren’t even sure if it what was real anymore.
  • Fred was your best friend, your other half, the love of your life.
  • After the Battle of Hogwarts you’d travel back to the Burrow with the Weasley’s.
  • He was buried shortly after the Battle. His casket was a sleek black color and shined in the rain that fell. You placed a flower on the top of his casket and choked on a shaky sob. George stood behind you and his hand found it’s way into yours, giving you a squeeze of reassurance as he cried with you. You had never felt more lost in your life. Your fingers twiddled with the diamond band wrapped around your finger. It felt more like a piece of mockery, there to remind you everyday of what you could now never have.
  • Molly spent an entire week in the twins’ bedroom. She didn’t talk, hardly ate, just stared blankly at the wall next to Fred’s bed. He had pictures of his Hogwarts adventures taped to the wall and she had memorized every prospect of the photos so much she couldn’t rid the image from her brain when she closed her eyes, but she didn’t want to forget.
  • At the end of the week George entered his and Fred’s bedroom for the first time since the Battle. He spent an hour talking to his mother. You never did find out what he said, but you remember the burning visual of Molly exiting the room with reddened eyes full of heartbreak.
  • Ginny spent the nights sleeping in her room with you and cuddled against your chest, silently weeping to herself. Your presence made her feel close to her late brother, like he had never actually left.
  • George, Molly, and you would clean out Fred’s half of the room. It was full of tears and once happy now sad memories. Like the large maroon tie blanket you had made for Fred on your anniversary. Or the book on Magical Creatures that Fred had stolen on accident in Diagon Alley while he spied on you from behind a bookcase. You were shopping for all your school supplies and the redhead had torn from his family, catching glimpse of you in the robes shop and managed to follow you two stores later not wanting to leave you. You eventually caught him as he tripped over a pile of books, the binds of knowledge cascading to the floor with a crash. You smiled and helped him up while introducing yourself. The rest was history.
  • Arthur stood in the doorway of the room watching the three of you clean. Deep aging wrinkles indented his forehead making him appear older than he really was. His face was long, drowning in sorrow. He didn’t say a word, just watched.
  • Ginny cried alone in her room. Harry tried to comfort her but his success was no avail. She locked herself away for three days, lost in a sea of depression.
  • Ron turned to Harry and Hermione who welcomed him with open arms. He was the first to open up after his older brother’s death.
  • You stayed at the Burrow for a almost three weeks before flying to France. You choice was rash but you needed to get away. Molly understood and wished you well. You didn’t know how long you would be gone but you hoped it would give you some time to come to terms with the heartbreak you were experiencing.
  • Fred used to tell you when you were in school together that he always dreamed of going to France. He never knew why. He was rubbish at speaking French and had no idea how he’d survive, but it was a dream of his.
  • Percy, Bill, and Charlie all stayed at the Burrow for a month or so. Their hearts ached at the lose of their younger brother.
  • George… George no longer felt like himself. It was as if a part of himself was missing, torn from his soul. He dragged through the day’s, closing down the shop for a while. After spending two weeks at the Burrow he moved back to the apartment above Weasley Wizard Wheezes that Fred and him shared. The second he walked through the door he broke down. Tears splashed against his cheeks as he finally let all his emotions pour out. He called you, practically begging you to keep him company.
  • Of course you obliged and flew back home immediately. You lived with Fred in the apartment too. It was your home as well and you had been putting off going back to the apartment as much as possible. The home held so many items from your past involving Fred and you. Where he proposed to you, where you had you first blow up fight, where you had you first time together, where you had the million of talks about your future together, and so much more.  
  • This made Molly feel a little better when she heard you would be staying with George for a while. She hated the thought of George being all along right after losing his best friend, his twin, his other half.
  • You left France still clutching a box full of Fred’s belonging. A heavy feeling invaded your heart. You took a train to London after landing then joined George at the shop.
  • The minute the door swung open George’s arms were thrown around your frame as he pulled you into a tight embrace. The barrier you had been working so hard to uphold, crumbled at his touch. Not because you felt you could finally let go of all the emotions being kept inside. No, you cried because George’s embrace reminded you of Fred’s. The way his hold tighten as you sobbed mirrored Fred’s actions identically. Your chest ached as you came to realize you future with Fred was gone. George’s salty tears splashed on the crown of your head.
  • The first week barely any words at all were exchanged. You would mumble a small ‘good morning’ to each other during breakfast but that was usually it.
  • George spent the days in his room and the nights at a bar across the street. This continued on for a week until you confronted him. You waited up all night, worried sick. He stumbled in around three in the morning, eyes brimming red, breath stenching strong from alcohol.
  • “George Weasley, what the hell?” You would screeched. His eyes snapped up at you resembling a deer caught in headlights. His gazed quickly fell to the floor as he shut the house door and brushed past you. You yelled after him making him halt in his path,
  • “George pease just talk to me! I know this is hard for you, believe me I do. He was your brother. You two have never been apart so I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through. George I’m here for you and you can talk to me because I lost him too. You did everything with Fred, you two started this business together and we both know he just wants you to be happy again. Please… just try, George. Try for me, try for Fred. Please. I just want to be here for you. If there’s something I did. If you hate me-” Your voice broke at the end and your knees gave up. Crashing to the floor a echoing cry invaded the air. George stood motionless watching you fall apart before his eyes. He could almost hear Fred scolding him and urging him to act. Fred would want George to comfort you, Fred would want you two to be there for each other.
  • George hesitantly crossed the room and bent to your level. His hand reached out, brushing a strand of messy hair from your face. Glancing up at him you started in to question him but George beat you around the bush. He seemed half sobered up and shook his head.
  • “Y/n… it’s not you, I swear. You’re the most purest human being in the entirety of the world, please don’t think that way. Every moment you and Fred were together I could never shake that from my mind, how perfect you are. But god Y/n every time I see you I think of my brother. He loved you more than anything in this world and I know he would hate me right now for not being there for you. I feel like I’ve let him down and that hurts more than anything. I see Fred everytime I look in the mirror, everytime I see the pictures on the fridge, everytime I walk into the shop, everytime I come home and everytime I see you.”
  • His words took you by storm but for once, it made sense. You had been sleeping in Fred and your bed, helping start the shop back up (mainly by yourself), and it probably didn’t help that you had been stealing items of Fred’s clothing, just wanting to be close to him again. For the first time since the Battle, you admitted the burden you’d been holding inside.
  • “I wish I could’ve saved him. If I wasn’t distracted by the helping that student- if I would have been paying more attention to Fred… he’d still be here.” You quivered. George’s eye soften and he shook his head.
  • “Y/n you know no one could’ve stopped what happen. I’ve spent every night laying awake wondering if I could’ve changed something. I’m not sure what god planned this, or if there even is one, but Y/n we had no control over this.” His arms locked around you pulling you against his chest. His lips planted against your forehead sweetly covering you in a blanket of comfort.
  • You spent the rest of the night in George’s arm. You shared memories of Fred, some sweet, some funny, and some that made you cry again.
  • “Remember the time the two of you enchanted endless snowballs to pelt, well technically, Voldemort in the face and Quill in the back of the head?” You giggled into the glass of cherry red wine you held to your lips. George leaned into the cushion of the couch and shook his head with a smile. 
  • “Classic!”
  • George spent the night in Fred and your bed- to keep you company of course.
  • He kept you company for the rest of the nights to follow
  • The two of you began to drift into a weird zone
  • You had always lightly fancied George but it was Fred you loved.
  • He would randomly start bringing you home flowers and other small gifts
  • Some days George would come home to find a bundled up new sweater placed on his work desk. You always claimed the things you bought him were on sale so you just couldn’t resist but George knew better
  • A strong connection was growing and it confused you- George too. You wanted another shot at happiness but you weren’t sure if you were ready yet until another vacant Friday night rolled around and you found yourself laying on the couch in George’s arm talking about the week and before you knew it he was leaning forward.
  • The first time you kissed George you screwed your eyes shut tightly and imagined his lips as Fred’s. You knew it was horrible but you had no clue what else to do. It was like you were cheating on your fiance- your dead fiance, with his twin brother. But when you realized it was George, you didn’t entirely hate it. It was actually quite a fulfilling kiss. A part from inside of you warmed up for the first time in a long time.
  • George had a sickening vibe settling in the pit of his stomach after he pulled back. His heart sped up at the newfound affection the kiss brought although kissing you made him feel like he was betraying his brother. Fred planned to marry you for Merlin’s sake and there George was, making out with his dead twin’s girlfriend.
  • But you kissed him again the next day and he didn’t pull away
  • And the next
  • And the one after that too
  • Kissing you made George think of his brother. Fred loved you and George could understand why. Kissing you, sleeping beside you, comforting you, it all made George feel as if he was somehow growing closer to his twin.
  • At first your relationship with George was based solely on the fact that he was identical to your late lover but as time passed on George made you feel differently than Fred did. Despite you never thinking it was possible, George taught you how to laugh again. He would slowly crack back into his prankster self again. It took his almost a full year after Fred’s passing to invent a new product for the shop or even enter the store for more than passing to get to the apartment. He tested out the product on you during breakfast one morning. Pouring a lilac solution into the base of your black coffee and giving it a swirl, George carried on with breakfast as if nothing had happen. Dragging in, you hugged George from behind before taking a seat at the nook. You instantly sipped on the brewed mixture in front of you and spit it out in shock as the odd flavor set in.
  • George howled in laughed and bent over the kitchen stove pointing towards you. Furrowing your eyebrows you set the mug down and spoke up agitated,
  • “George what the hell did you put in- oh my god!”
  • You realized the change in tone quickly and covered your face in embarrassment. Your voice was as deep as a well making you sound similar to that of a male that had spent over half his life heavily smoking. George rushed over and planted a kiss to your cheek.
  • “It worked!” Although you were thoroughly ticked off at his choice of targeting you, you were happy he was back to his old ways. The bills were piling up by the second and the landlord wanted the shop either back up and running, or both of you to move out. Dumping your infected cup of coffee down the sink drain you started to make a new batch. Smiling to yourself you laughed softly,
  • “Well, I’m glad to have you back, George.”
  • That was only the beginning. George and you spent almost every moment inventing and creating new sale items. The first handful were absolute rubbish but it didn’t matter. Both of you were trying to get back in the swing of things and sometimes that took a while.
  • Within three months Weasley Wizard Wheezes was back up and running again.
  • Sales flooded in and shot straight through the roof steadily for a long term.
  • As a ‘thank you’ present for helping him get back on his feet George invited you out for a fancy meal out on the town.
  • You decided on a Muggle restaurant and dressed to the nines. George’s jaw skimmed the floor when you walked out of your room and slipped on your heels. He held your hand and escorted you out.
  • During dinner you had ntoiced how fidgety and nervous George was acting. You made the choice to question him on it over a glass of champagne right before the main course and he physically stiffened. Tilting his glass back, George chugged down the large intake and wiped his lips on the red amber napkin. His hands clasped together then unclasped at his side. His soft eyes found yours and he darted them back down to the tablecloth.
  • “It’s just- well, Y/n… what are we?”
  • It would get silent very fast and he would instantly fill it.
  • “What I mean is, I like you… I like you a lot but I know how you felt about my brother. I saw the glint in your eyes that would sparkle whenever you saw him and how happy you two were together and Y/n I want to be able to make you as happy as Fred did. With that being said I don’t want you to be with me because I remind you of him or because you can’t stop thinking about Fred. I’m not gonna lie at the start of our, uh, relationship I was hanging out with you because you made me think of Fred but all those late nights and million cups of coffee have made me realize the truth. I love you Y/n- and not because you dated my brother. I love you for you and I think I have for a very long time. What I’m asking is… Y/n would you um, like to be my girlfriend?”
  • You cried, a lot. George’s heart broke at the sight only confirming the love swelling in his heart. His feelings were genuine and it warmed your soul. You lunged across the table knocking over the bread bowl in the process and threw your arms around George’s frame.
  • “Of course I will! Oh my god, George. You’re making me cry like a bloody fool!”
  • George called his mother the second you got home. Molly was hit with a wave of shock at first. She gave both of you long speeches trying to inspect if the love was real or a mask to feign the hurt of bonding over the lose of Fred. She demanded both of you come home to the Burrow for the week so you did and the moment she looked into both of your eyes, it was clear as crystal.
  • “Good lord you are in love!”
  • It was hard for the rest of the Weasley family to accept at first. You understood completely since you had the same weary, unsure feeling as well but eventually they came to accept it. They were all happy to you and George happy once again.
  • But as happy as you were, small memories with Fred would constantly pop up.
  • Like one night when George and you were lying in bed together whispering softly realization would settle in and you’d comment,
  • “This is where he proposed. We were lying right here when Fred asked me to marry him.”
  • You knew how horrid it was to put this on George but you had no control. George thought about this all the time and was reminded of your relationship with his brother at every corner he turned.
  • You would then apologize feeling god awful for saying such a thing but George would hush you saying,
  • “It’s alright Y/n. Just because he’s not around anymore and because we’re together now doesn’t mean we have to pretend he was never alive or your relationship with him didn’t exist. He loved you, and I know how much you love him. I’m not upset- actually I’m more than thankful my brother managed to snag a girl like you. You two were perfect together and he will always love you just like how you will always love him. Fred… he is… was my brother and for a long time I thought he would hate me for me being with you and for a long time I thought my heart tricked me into loving you. That maybe it wasn’t love I was feeling but rather so the relationship my brother and I had and maybe because he loved you so much, being with you would make me feel less lonely about losing him but I know the truth. I love you, Y/n. Hell, maybe I always have but the important thing is I love you now and I will love you tomorrow and I will continue to love you years from now and that’s not because of Fred, it’s because of you and who you are. I love you.”
  • You two learned how to live your life no longer feeling guilty for the love you shared. Fred smiled down his heart warming at seeing his two favorite people in the world relying on each other and sharing a piece of their heart together.
  • He proposed to you in the middle of a busy work day right as you were restocking a shelf. The rest of his family were there to see. Molly, Hermione and Ginny cried a river while the boys patted George on the back. On your wedding day the tears were never ending, though happy ones.
  • You two eventually moved to London- kept the shop but decided you needed more room, well of course your growing stomach demanded that. One cold night in the middle of December George and you were blessed with the birth of your first son, Fred ll. He had a head of wicked red hair and a small mischievous smile toying on his face and you had never felt more complete in your life. George planted a kiss to your head muttering a string of ‘thank yous’. You knew in your heart this was exactly where you were meant to be.

- Daizy xx

11 | You’ll Never Walk Alone

BTS + GOT7 X READER [GANG!AU]

WORD COUNT: 4,522

series warnings: mature themes, strong language, violence, substance abuse, eventual smut. this chapter contains graphic content such as violence

Originally posted by bcshiro

masterlist | ask | prev | next


“I think I know who-“

“What the fuck’s going on out here? I’m trying to sleep and your bullshit keeps disturbing me… You’d better have a good excuse for keeping me awake.”

Jackson.


“I just saw So-Ra with a member of The Panthers! I think his name is Yoongi…” You blurted loudly without thinking straight, keeping your gaze firmly on the ground as your surroundings continued to spin; tainted by alcohol.

“The fuck did she just say?” Jackson narrowed his eyes and edged closer to you and Minho, pointing a slender finger to your cheek as he snorted.
“Are you drunk?”

“I’ve had a few drinks but I don’t feel dr-“

“How do I know you weren’t just seeing things because you’re drunk? So-Ra wouldn’t betray us like that. You’re lying.” He growled, firing a menacing glare towards Jungkook and Taehyung, “Did either of you see So-Ra?” He asked with an angry expression.

“Y/N’s telling the truth, she was out clubbing; with him.” Jungkook defended you with serious eyes as Minho’s grip tightened on your wrist, ready to pull you inside the building.

Before he could drag your body into the manor house an uncharacteristically mousy female voice had everyone’s head snapping in the same direction; her petite figure was shaking as she approached the small crowd of people gathered outside.

Jackson, I- I can explain.”

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His || Jungkook || 0.10

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Teaser | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4 | 0.5 | 0.6 | 0.7 | 0.8 | 0.9 | 0.10 

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anonymous asked:

ur post about fic & racism in the supergirl fandom really got me thinking (especially about my own biases so thank you) but also like, how there’s this incredibly pervasive but subtle new form of racism I haven’t seen b4 in other fandoms? Like on one hand u have this loud condemnation of how racist monel is & how he was a slave owner blabh blah but no corresponding attention given to the existing Black characters. 1/4

I get wlw not wanting to write m/f fic but a lot of the fandom doesn’t reblog (or make) any of the gifsets, they don’t meta for him they don’t call for more screen time for Mehcad. Same for M’gann. SO many posts talking about how awful monel is compare him to Lena and strangely don’t mention the Black female character who also came from an oppressive society to become a hero? And there are like, idk, 4 people? Who write or post wlw fic with M’gann in it? 2/4

Same with Maggie. A huge segment of fandom decided Floriana is white (even tho hollywood clearly won’t cast her in roles for white women) so they use that as an excuse to exclusively stan the very light skinned white wlw. And the way it carries over to the characters, like, okay Flo is white? but Maggie is absolutely treated like a woc in how parts of fandom aggressively ignore her & find ways to demonize her character while overtly supporting lighter skinned characters ¾

And that same part of the fandom doesn’t ever seem to create content for Lucy or Vasquez either. IDK this isn’t something u can probably explore with stats but ur post really got me thinking and it just feels really gross now bc I see all these posts condemning racism but there’s still this extreme perpetuation of privileging white characters at the same time? & I haven’t seen this particular trend in fandom b4 4/4

Oh, anon, this made my day. I have a bunch of notes waiting in a doc to address the whole Mon-El thing with regard to the racist undertones and the rhetoric used by the show to frame his storyline, and I will do my best to write it before the season comes back again, because I genuinely think they tried to aim high and just … missed completely. (But I make no promises because my thesis defense is on Tuesday.)

To your first point re: fandom attitudes – I was surprised in the early half of S2 when so many people came out of the woodwork making posts in the main tag like “wait, why did they get rid of Kara/James??” because, oh right, nobody acted like they cared for almost twelve straight months. If y’all were so okay with this ship, where were you to acknowledge its social significance when it was canon? Where are you now? Why hasn’t there been an outpouring of tweets week after week at the execs and the writers for sidelining an interracial couple in favor of what we’re getting, especially since the storyline literally handwaved away human trafficking and slavery as minor plot points?

Not only that, when there’s unrealized potential for a non-canon ship there is typically an outpouring of fic in response, and while there’s been a statistically significant amount of new Karolsen fic in S2 because it’s pretty easy to top zero percent, the writing there is not keeping pace with any of the other dude-involved pairings. 

And you’re right, anon: it is not possible to prove anything with stats. HOWEVER, thanks to the addition of these new characters for S2, I *am* at the point now where it’s possible to see correlation between character race and fan engagement with different pairing choices. And the bias is there, whether it’s in the het pairings, the femslash, or even the m/m pairings. The whole reason I started tracking fic outputs in the first place was that any attempt to have this conversation last year devolved into yelling and finger-pointing because “you have no proof!” that racial bias is a thing. Except, yanno, all the POC who live with it daily saying that it’s a thing. Well, congratulations y’all: your choices leave digital footprints behind that are pretty easy to follow and chart for everyone to see.

This isn’t actually a new problem, by the way – racism and preferencing of white pairing happens a lot, in almost every fandom. The only difference maybe is that I’ve experimented with quantifying it, which is not something that people usually do when they study fandoms or fan behavior.

It pains me to no end that M’gann has been so overlooked, because her story has just as many dark character beats to it as Lena’s, if not more, plus the added bonus of her sharing a sense of “otherness” with Kara in a way that few other people can. And there is no way the disinterest in that pairing isn’t about race, because there are a whole bunch of ships from S1 between white women who’d never even met each other in canon that have more romantic fics than M’gann/anyone.

And the nonsense about Floriana, which I’ll remind everyone again was started by a white girl, had a demonstrable chilling effect on interest in Sanvers as a pairing. Like. I can actually show that on paper. And you’re absolutely right with what you said above, which bears repeating: Maggie is absolutely treated like a woc in how parts of fandom aggressively ignore her & find ways to demonize her character.

There’s also a treatment of Floriana herself that reminds me uncomfortably of how people went out of their way to demonize Naya Rivera’s personal life whenever she reminded the world she was black instead of just “very tan.” And a lot of the rhetoric people are using to talk about Floriana’s racial heritage is almost verbatim the same as what you’ll find on white supremacist discussion boards about Italian people. I’d love to think this is an accident, but I’ve made some people pretty angry for pointing this out in the past, so I suspect it’s at least partially deliberate.

Lucy was another case that drove me insane, for two reasons:

  1. The vast majority of femslash fans flat-out ignored her as a romantic choice even though there were a whole lot of good reasons to ship her with either Kara or Alex, and a whole lot less negative reasons not to. (And it’s not like Supercat was already dominating the scene before Lucy’s character was introduced. That ship only became popular after the movie Carol came out during the winter hiatus of S1.)
  2. People had the same fight last year about whether or not Lucy counted as a WOC and ultimately insisted that the answer was no. But then people kept on ignoring her anyway like somehow dubiously legal boss/employee relationships, potential treason, and incest were more logical bases for attraction.

Also, to the people who have been like “oh yay we could’ve had Dichen as Maggie, a real WOC” like somehow this would have made the fandom love her more – you’re full of shit. If you mean that, why has there been so little fic about Dichen as Roulette? Like, last year there were a whole bunch of shipfics featuring Livewire. There was Kara/Siobhan. And yet … no dark scenarios of Supergirl/Roulette? No Alex ones? There were even a bucketload of those for each Danvers sister + Max Lord, and this fandom isn’t even that into dudes. You’re telling me no one is interested in this kind of hero/villain dynamic with the Asian chick and somehow that’s not also about race?

tl;dr I suspect that a decent chunk of this problem is the result of subconscious bias, but some of it’s not. And what’s really sad about it is that, for all the talk on Tumblr about representation being important, we’re really doing no better as media producers than Hollywood when it comes to race. If anything, we might actually be doing worse.

anonymous asked:

can i prompt touch starved tony who loves any and all physical contact he has? someone puts a hand on his shoulder? amazing! someone lens into his side at movie night? the best! someone actually hugs him? omg! the avengers start to notice and perhaps do something about it?

Tony is a puppy. He soaks up affection like a sponge. (I threw in some Bucky because I wanted sleepy, helpless Tony.) Look out for under the cut!

You can find this story on my Ao3 here.


Natasha noticed first. She had a leg up on everyone though, having been sent to spy on him. She’d noticed when Pepper would reach out to casually touch him—a pat on the shoulder, playing with his hair, sliding her foot up his calf—and Tony would look ecstatic. At least, as ecstatic as an emotionally constipated person could look. At first she’d thought it was flirting, and Tony was happy to finally have it reciprocated.

But then Jim Rhodes had stopped by and swept Tony up into a hug that brought his feet off the ground, and Tony had made a happy little noise that had… done something to her heart. While Rhodes was visiting, it seemed like they were always touching, whether it was an arm over Tony’s shoulders or Tony pressing his feet against Rhodes’s thigh.

Happy was touchy-feely with Tony, too. Even after boxing matches, when they were both bruised and sometimes bloody but always smiling, they’d lean their shoulders together, or Happy would be escorting Tony somewhere and keep a hand on his elbow. Tony didn’t even fuss, even though usually he would bitch about not needing anyone’s protection.

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Spiderboy And The Invisible Girl

Pairing: Peter Parker x Inhuman!reader

Summary: You’re the invisible Avenger, both figuratively and literally, as an accident when you were a little kid caused you to gain the power to turn invisible. Even when you’re not invisible you manage to blend in, until Peter Parker joins the team.

Warnings: Language (goddammit Tony)

A/N: Tagging @skymundane477@takenbymyfandoms​ and @pattypotterpevensie​ bc I know you guys love Peter as much as I do xx

Originally posted by crazyneoncupcake

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some stories just don't have a happy ending (Stiles Stilinski)

Originally posted by ragazzosarcastico

“y/n stop!” Stiles screamed from his jeep but it was hard to hear in the pouring rain.

I didn’t pay attention, I just kept walking. Stiles pulled his jeep over, climbing out and running to catch me.

“stop and let me talk!” Stiles said roughly yanking my arm so I would stop walking.

“there is NOTHING you can say to change things Stiles.” I said yanking my arm out of his grasp and continuing to walk forward.

“I don’t even know what this is about?” Stiles yelled running a hand through his hair.

I tried to think back to the exact moment when things changed. Eveyrthing and everyone was different.

“you won’t even tell me?” He asked coming to stand in front of me.

“no, I don’t need to hear anymore of your lies!”

“y/n talk to me!“ Stiles said more desperate now.

“talk to you? why huh? Its not like you talk to me! I had to find out everything from Theo!” I screamed angry tears streaming down my face.

“Theo? what did he tell you?” Stiles asked grabbing my hands in his.

“you know what he told me.” I said glaring at him and ripping my hands from his.

“y/n I didn’t mean to, it was a mistake okay.” Stiles said taking a step back.

“a mistake that didn’t have to be made!” I screamed pulling my hair, completely frustrated by now.

“yeah well y/n some people have to make mistakes okay! Some of us are human!” Stiles screamed standing directly in front of me again.

Never once has he brought up the fact that I was different. I discovered my abilities when my name was on the deadpool list. I was called a djinn, I could create powerful hallucinations in people’s minds. Stiles was there for me, helping me to learn control that much power. He even went as far as taking a bullet to the shoulder when someone was shooting at me. Along the way we fell in love but now everything was falling apart. I felt a few more tears fall down my face.

“y/n i’m sorry I didn’t mean it that way.” Stiles said a few tears rolling down his cheeks as well.

I walked around him continuing to walk away but this time he didn’t stop me, he just let me go. I arrived at my house freezing and soaked from the rain.

“i’ve been waiting for you.” I heard a familiar voice say from a dark corner of the room.

“well here I am.” I snapped flipping on the light switch.

Theo sat in a chair across the room, his claws extended. He laughed as he stood up sauntering his way over to me.

“what’s wrong? trouble in paradise?” He asked with that same stupid look on his face.

“you were right, he admitted to it.“ I said slamming my bag down on the table.

"he did?” Theo asked almost as if he were surprised.

I gave him a look warily. Yesterday Theo told me he saw Stiles kissing his ex-girlfriend Malia Tate.

“why do you seem so surprised?” I asked raising my eyebrows.

“I just didn’t know if he’d own up to his mistake.” Theo rushed out.

I sighed walking up the stairs to my bedroom. I could feel Theo on my heels. On my bedside table was a picture of me and Stiles. I grabbed it throwing it across the room. The glass shattered in pieces, but that wasn’t enough for me. I picked up the picture, slicing my hand on a piece of glass in the process. I ripped the picture until I couldn’t rip it any further.

“feel better now?” Theo asked standing in my doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.

I was breathing heavily, all my anger flowing through me.

“that right y/n get angry, anger makes you stronger.” Theo said clapping his hands together.

my blood was boiling at his encouragement.

“you know who you should really be angry at? Malia. She kissed him too. You should show her who is really in charge.” Theo growled coming to stand by me.

I thought about his words for a second. At this point I was so angry I was considering what he said. I was probably the most powerful of the pack, next to Lydia and Parrish. I could totally incapacitate her, make her feel pain, my pain. That was exactly what I was going to do.

“lets go.” I growled clenching my fists.

Theo and I walked out to his truck climbing in. I knew where she’d be, she’d be with the pack.

“you know the pack may try to stop you.” Theo said glancing over at me.

“than I’ll take them out too.” I growled still feeling my blood boiling.

“i’m sure you will.” Theo smirked returning his eyes back to the road.

We pulled in the school parking lot. I didn’t take anytime in getting out and rushing to the library.

“Malia.” I growled seeing her standing with Scott, Stiles, and Lydia.

Malia gave me a confused look before placing her hands on her head. She let out a scream of pain as I entered her head. Her eyes turned completely white, experiencing the hallucination that I was making her see. I brought her back to the night of the car accident, I made her see herself ripping her family to shreds. She fell on the ground passing out from the pain.

“y/n stop! what are you doing?” Scott said rushing over to me and grabbing my shoulders.

I directed my powers at Scott, getting into his mind now. I made him see Allison dying again, but instead of the oni killing her, he did. Scott growled bringing his hands to his head. He followed the same actions as Malia did.

“stop y/n this isn’t you!” Lydia cried.

I turned my attention towards Lydia now. She tried to fight me off but I still got inside her head. I made her see herself getting attacked by peter over and over again.

“Y/n.” Stiles said stepping closer.

“stay back.” I growled getting out of Lydia’s head.

“y/n babe do you remember what you told me, huh you told me that you didn’t want to be a monster. I promised you that I wouldn’t let you. I’m keeping my promise.” Stiles said stepping even closer.

I could feel the tears slip down my cheeks as I thought back to that night.

The assassin was quickly gaining on me and Stiles. I took a deep breath turning towards the assassin. I tried to control my powers, getting in his head. He screamed placing his hands over his head.

“please stop.” The guy begged falling to the ground.

I didn’t stop. I didn’t have control over it.

“y/n stop.” Stiles said placing his hand over mine.

“oh god stop.” The guy screamed again.

“Stiles I don’t know how to stop.” I cried.

Stiles turned me around placing his lips on mine. I kissed him back feeling like my heart was about to explode. I felt myself get out of the guys head and focus on my kiss with Stiles.

“Y/n look out!” Stiles screamed pushing me out of the way.

The guy pulled the trigger of the gun shooting Stiles in the shoulder. I ran over knocking the gun out of his hand and punching him in the face, knocking him out. Stiles was gripping his shoulder in pain. I ran back over to him taking his head in my hands.

“Stiles i’m so sorry.” I said feeling the tears fall down my cheeks.

“It’s not your fault.” Stiles said placing a bloody hand on my cheek.

“yes it is, I’m a monster.”

“y/n you’re not a monster, okay I won’t let you become one either. I promise.” Stiles said kissing my lips again.

I believed every word he said.

I snapped out of my thoughts feeling the tears fall down my face again.

“Stiles.” I breathed.

Stiles ran over taking me in his arms while I sobbed.

“Stiles I’m so sorry I was just so mad about you kissing Malia and..” I started but was cut off by Stiles.

“I never kissed Malia.”

“you didn’t?” I asked confused.

“No, y/n I killed Donovan okay? I didn’t cheat on you. Killing Donovan was an accident, I would never intentionally hurt you, y/n remember I love you.” Stiles said putting a hand on my cheek.

Originally posted by admireforever

I was about to respond when I heard clapping from behind us.

“damn y/n I almost had you killing the whole room.” Theo said laughing.

Stiles put a protective arm around me.

“you lied to me so I’d hurt my friends. Well too bad your plan didn’t work.” I growled through clenched teeth.

“you see I thought about that, that’s why I always have a back up plan.”

Before I had time to react Tracy Stewart had scratched me and Stiles, paralyzing us with her kanima venom. Theo walked over pulling a jar out of his pocket.

“you see these y/n?” Theo asked showing me the contents of the jar.

“These come from a powerful creature who could take others power. They let me take power. Y/n I want your power.” Theo said pulling out the talons from the jar and putting them on his claws.

“if you touch her I swear to god.” Stiles spat from beside me.

I felt my heart beat pick up as Theo got closer.

“Theo don’t!” Stiles begged.

But Theo had already made up his mind. He bent down sticking the talons in my stomach. I felt the power and life being drained from me. I coughed up blood as Theo stuck the talons in deeper. Theo sucked in a sharp breath as my power surged into him.

“Theo stop!” Stiles said screaming.

“awh come on Stiles at least you’ll know she died loving you.” Theo said.

I felt my vision starting to get blurry, and my eyes start to close.

“y/n hold on okay, I’m gonna help you.” Stiles said but I didn’t hear him.

the last thing I thought about before my eyes closed was Stiles. I never got to tell him that I loved him too. But I guess that’s the way it goes in life. Some stories just don’t have a happy ending.

300 followers woot woot! Enjoy my depressing imagine as a thank you! Should I make a part 2?

xoxoxoxoxo

PART TWO: https://radwriting.tumblr.com/post/162135746177/goodbye-stiles-stilinski

Stole My Heart

Summary: The five times the universe appeared to be against you when you wanted to ask Peter out.

Word Count: 2,622.

A/N: After reading @bovaria‘s fic, “The Five Times Bucky Picks You“, it inspired me to write something along those lines with Peter instead. Although, I decided to do my own spinoff and give it a slight twist. Hope you enjoy :D

Originally posted by spiderholland

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Consolation

Hello again! I wrote this in about half and hour and didn’t proof-read or anything, so it may be a mess, but hopefully it’s alright? This is a Peter Parker story about the reader having an awful day and Peter being there to help make it better. I got a request for an imagine about Tom comforting an upset reader, but I just changed it to a Peter fic, so I hope that’s okay!

Consolation

    Peter and Ned rushed down the hallway, late for class as per usual, each boy faulting the other for the possible detention slip that loomed over their heads. Truthfully, they were both guilty parties.

Ned and Peter had gotten hungry after gym class and snuck off campus during their lunch break to grab sandwiches at the shop a few blocks down. They’d been so absorbed by greasy fries and vanilla malts that they had forgotten to check the clock. To make it to physics on time, the boys had needed to run down the street, which proved very difficult seeing as the streets were always crowded with too many people. You could barely bend over to tie your shoe without someone getting in your way and vice versa.

“This is so annoying!” Peter whined, “I can’t deal with a detention today, what if Mr. Stark needs me, or like, I don’t know, I’ve got to somehow figure out how to multiply myself so I can be about a thousand places at once so I can fight all the city’s crime.” He bent over for a second to wait for Ned to catch up.

“Dude, shut up,” Ned wheezed, “I think I’m just going to take the detention slip, I’m over this.” He braced himself with a harsh hand on Peter’s shoulder. “This is like taking gym all over again.”

“No, Ned, we’re so close! I’m sure that we can drag ourselves a few more feet.” Peter encouraged his best friend, while the pair moved sluggishly up the stairs.

Ned opened his mouth with a witty retort in mind, when Peter smacked a hand over his chest to steady him. “Do you hear that?” Peter mumbled.

The boys strained their ears and heard the soft pitter patter of heels clacking against the floor above them. The longer they listened, the more amplified the clicks became. “Shit,” Ned cursed, “we’re so getting caught. I am not down for detention right now.”

The boys fumbled on the stairs, unsure of which direction they should run in when the noise traveled nearer and nearer to where they stood on the stairs. “Maybe we’ll just get a firm talking to for being late again?” Peter said, doing his best to think positively in the face of defeat.

Ned groaned, slumping his shoulders, as he too accepted the fact that he and his best friend were about to be completely vanquished by whatever school staff member was about to bust them for their constant tardiness.

Peter moaned and leaned back into the banister, taking out his phone to text both Aunt May and Mr. Stark that he would be unavailable for a few more hours after class. The boys both lifted their heads up to meet the furious gaze of the teacher that never came.

Instead, the young girl that breezed past the boys was one of their friends, and Peter’s biggest crush yet. When Liz Allen hadn’t worked out, Liz had made sure to introduce Peter to her friend, who was in the same grade as Peter and Ned. She even shared more than a few classes with the pair of them.

She stunned Peter on a daily basis. Whether it was her ability to quote Shakespearean literature like it was a simple recipe that she’d learned over the weekend, drink eight lattes a day, manipulate chemicals to do as she pleased, or her capability to be the kindest person he’d ever met, Peter was always left breathless. She was nice to everyone, even to the people who didn’t deserve it and had never flaunted her beauty or brains in a way that hurt a classmate intentionally. Peter didn’t think he had ever heard her utter a mean word about someone in his entire life, even when people would say horrid things to her.

She comforted Peter on his lowest nights, even without being near him. She had a soft voice and he imagined cuddling up with her in bed, while she played with his curls and listened to him cry about the level of stress that he was under without ever making fun of him. Besides that, she was easily the most beautifully luminous girl in Peter and Ned’s entire high school.

Although, right now, she was wiping her eyes and trying to cover up the sobs that drifted past her lips. Peter’s eyes widened and he looked to Ned and then back at the girl that he desperately desired to make his own, and then back at Ned.

“Go,” Ned urged, pushing Peter in an attempt to steer him closer to her. “Go or it’ll be too late. She likes you and you like her, stop being a baby, Parker. Tony Stark can’t do everything for you.”

A few weeks ago, a rumor spread that she had gotten a little too tipsy at one of Liz’s parties and had accidently, and quite loudly, revealed that she harbored a massive crush on Peter Parker. Peter had been quick to brush off the rumor, claiming that it was only started to embarrass her, remained unaware that the rumor wasn’t just a rumor, and was an actual fact.

Before Peter could take offense to Ned’s statement, something clicked in his brain and he was tearing down the stairs, trying to make his way to her before she reached the school’s front door.

He called out her name just as her hand closed over the door’s handle. She turned, brown mascara smudged beneath her eyes and waved, her lips quivering into a soft smile that she aimed at Peter before she pulled open the door and walked through it.

“Shit,” Peter mumbled, breaking into a full run in hopes of getting to her before she drove off.

Her day had been so horrible, no matter how she tried to look at. All she wanted was for Peter Parker to wrap his surprisingly muscular arms around her frame, pull her onto his lap, and allow her to cry into his neck while he whispered soft words of reassurement to her. She logiticied that Peter hadn’t reciprocate her feelings, seeing as Liz had been his crush since day one, no matter what Liz said, so she would have to settle for her warm, pink bed, a tub of ice-cream, and a Harry Potter movie marathon.

Peter called her name out once again, nearly tripping over his own two feet to stand in front of her. “Wait,” he wheezed, all of his words crawling back down his throat when he looked upon her face.

Fresh tears glimmered in her eyes, her rosey lipgloss had been disturbed, her lower lip trembled and Peter was almost lost for words. He had never seen her look so sad before and he decided right then and there that he would find the person who did this to her and destroy them, spidey suit or not.

“What’s the matter?” Peter said gently, moving to hug her close, but then dropping his hands because she hadn’t said that he was allowed to touch her and Peter wouldn’t ever want to make her heart hurt more.

In reality, the girl knew that she was probably being over-dramatic and silly, but she couldn’t help it. Everything that she had worked so hard for was collapsing in on her and there was nothing she could do about it. It wasn’t even one in the afternoon and she had suffered through three anxiety attacks, and was currently on the brink of another one.

She opened her mouth to respond to Peter, but when she couldn’t make her mouth move past a strangled sob, she simply shrugged her shoulders and catapulted herself into Peter’s arms.

Peter reacted automatically, cradling the small of her back to him while he rubbed soft circles onto her spine. “It’ll be okay,” he whispered into her floral smelling hair, “tell me what I can do to fix it and I’ll do it.”

They stood like that for a while, Peter slowly rocking them back and forth, while he supported the meager weight of her shaking frame in his arms. He spoke to her tenderly, telling her that he would help her make whatever was hurting her okay before she lifted her head to meet his eyes.

“Peter, I’m going to get you into trouble.” She sniffled, “you should be in class, I know that you love physics.”

“If you haven’t noticed,” Peter said, raising his eyebrows, “I don’t give half a damn about physics right now, you’re the only one who brought it up. I want to be where you are so I can help.”

She prayed that she wouldn’t regret what she was about to ask Peter, “do you wanna come home with me? We’re both going to get detention if we stay out here for much longer. I promise I’ll compensate you with warm chocolate chip cookies and coffee,” she trailed off, refusing to meet Peter’s hopeful gaze.

“Okay,” Peter said, “but I don’t know if you should drive right now,” he pointed to her shaking hands. “I don’t want you to get hurt by accident.”

She nodded her head, planning on ordering an uber and just leaving her car at the school.

“If you want, I can drive us home, I swear I know how.” Peter offered, a cherry blush spilling over his cheeks.

The girl dug through her purse before retrieving her car keys. “Okay, Peter. I trust you.”

Peter smiled at her before taking hold her keys and leading her into the parking lot. He couldn’t believe that she still looked so pretty after having just sobbed into his sweater.

“Peter?” She asked softly, tugging at his sleeve to make him look at her. “Thank you for being so good to me.”

He shook his head and leaned in, and before he could stop himself, he pressed a loving kiss to her forehead. Peter’s eyes widened, but before he could have his own panic attack, she flashed a real smile at him and pulled Peter forward, through lanes and lanes of parked cars.


tap that // dylan o'brien

Summary: Dylan & Y/N both find something they’d like to tap

Requested: no, thanks to @void-obriens  for making this gif

Pairing: Dylan & Y/N

Warning: no

Masterlist

A shiver ran through her body as her heels clicked against the pavement. Each step she took led her closer to her final destination, which ultimately meant reaching a warmth that her leather jacket did not provide.

Her two friends were deep in conversation about who they were most excited to meet, while Y/N was focused on finding the lounge her cousin had told her to meet her at.

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Gasoline [unfinished WIP, KHR]

Going through my folders and posting what isn’t going to be finished or is dropped, so I can get it out for good and focus on what I do want to write.

Warnings for: born-a-female-Tsuna, mentions of attempted marital rape, forced marriages, drug-induced death and general mafia behavior.

Summary: Prior to marrying Iemitsu, Nana was a very accomplished black widow. Tsuna shouldn’t have to follow in her footsteps like this, but Vongola has left her no choice in the matter. So she will have the mafia fear her as she once feared them, and she will survive.

———–

Prior to marrying Iemitsu, Nana Sawada went under a different name, and was a very accomplished black widow. She slipped poison in drinks and drugs where nobody would think to look, put needle marks in skin and occasionally knives in the backs of men who treated her like an object rather than a person.

Tsuna never wanted to learn such lessons. She wanted her marriage, when it finally did happen, to be the once-in-a-lifetime event her mother gushed about having with Iemitsu. After the mafia came and ruined her life, she still clung to feeble hopes that maybe she could still get that.

But it isn’t to be.

Timoteo intends to make a statement, one way or another. Unfortunately, even if a woman should rule as Decima, she must still have a husband. And Xanxus isn’t about to touch the woman that froze him once upon a time. So he’s reached out beyond Vongola to allied families, and they’ve sent their best to him. And now he’s made a choice, and once again he’s forcing it on her.

Tsuna can lie to everyone but herself; she’s afraid. Terrified, in fact. The thought of a stranger touching her makes her want to vomit. The thought of this man breathing in her general vicinity makes her want to vomit, actually. She shakes and quivers and hides beneath her bedcovers, and for once, Reborn says nothing. He doesn’t scold her. He slides a mug of hot chocolate topped with enough whipped cream to give her diabetes her way, wordlessly tipping his hat down as he leaves the room. It doesn’t take someone of Reborn’s calibre to know the man doesn’t like this any more than she does. But he’s her tutor, not her father (no matter how much she wishes otherwise some days), and so he can only stand back and watch this trainwreck.

Maybe that’s why she confides in her mother. Why when everyone is gone, Tsuna goes downstairs, starts to speak, and then bursts into tears. Everything comes rushing out, every lie about the mafia she’s ever told, and she begs her mother’s forgiveness for the lies, and Nana gives it readily, wrapping arms around her and letting her cry into a warm shoulder. The tears eventually leave, and Nana sits her down, gets her a glass of cold water, and begins to tell her a story.

It is not a nice story.

But it teaches Tsuna what she needs to know to survive. Because Nana was once a prominent black widow that nobody could ever track down. Her husbands died of natural causes - all the autopsy reports say so - and while people had their suspicions, there was no evidence for them to pin her with. And after a time, she’d learned how to disguise herself, going from one husband to the next.

Now she cups Tsuna’s small hands in her own, and drops the mask she uses around everyone. “Tsunako, do you want to learn how?”

Tsuna can’t say yes fast enough.

———–

Her first husband dies to poison.

It’s tradition, her mother insists, when she shows Tsunako had to make a clear, tasteless, odorless toxin that’s practically untraceable once its inside the system. It’s homegrown, and Nana is a perfectionist at teaching it. She has Tsuna make batch after batch after batch until eventually she gets everything perfect. And then she gets a dropper and begins to administer one drop to Tsunako a day.

One drop doesn’t kill her. It makes her feel like shit, but she muscles through it, because a true poison user is protected against whatever they brew. Bianchi is the same way - she can eat whatever she makes and the poison won’t kill her or even make her queasy. Nana is immune to whatever toxins she injects into the veins of others, and eventually Tsuna will be too. They have time - the wedding isn’t due for a while, and nobody is going to force her and her husband together until then.

Tsuna sees Reborn watching them, once, but he vanishes too quickly for her to ask him if he’s going to tell anyone what she’s doing. She doesn’t ask afterward, because there’s a look in his eyes that’s… proud. It makes her feel warm, and when he drills her on her lessons later on, she doesn’t complain, driven by her twin desires to survive what’s coming, and make the man that has become her father in so many ways proud.

Spring passes into summer, and the wedding is held. People flock from all over to see it, and Tsuna is dressed to the nines and sent out at the alter. Her husband is a tall, weedy-looking young man who looks far too smug. She hates him at once, and his oily touch doesn’t remedy that.

The poison is not in his drink, but in her lipstick, and when they kiss (him pressing far too close, too hard, disgusting) she feels a sense of predatory satisfaction. The next morning she wakes up and screams, which brings the bodyguard outside the door running. She plays the part of the horrified wife, discovering her husband’s cold, lifeless body in bed. They rush the body away, and bring her to Reborn to keep her safe while they go question guests and comb through the drinks menu.

Reborn eyes her fingernails, but his eyes flicker upwards when she taps her lip in pretend thought. There’s a ghost of a smile across his face, but it fades once the door opens and Timoteo enters, looking both furious and terrified. He questions her if she feels ill, or if anything felt off at the wedding. She answers no to both, wringing her hands and playing up the ‘Dame-Tsuna’ act to full effect. It works, and the old man leaves.

“You’ve been hanging around Bianchi too much,” Reborn murmurs, not moving his lips, and Tsuna has to bite her own to hold back her return of its not Bianchi I’ve been spending so much time with lately, but you already know that.

————–

The death is passed off as a heart attack a week later when no results come up showing foul play. Tsuna doesn’t even get to play the widow in mourning before Timoteo’s given her another husband, this time in the form of a 40 something lech that’s like every old man out of a hentai. The old man gropes her and laughs too loudly and tries to sneak a hand up her dress to cop a feel, but Tsuna smacks his hand away and smiles the same smile her mother does at home even as her stomach rolls and her anger burns a hole through her heart.

He tries to take her no less than four separate time against various walls, each time growing more and more impatient and annoyed when Tsuna darts away. The poison is in her nails this time, and when he finally grabs her too hard she scratches him ‘on accident’ and then demands he leave her alone, she doesn’t want to be touched. She closes herself off in her room and locks the door. Her new husband pounds on it and snarls demands, but she puts her headphones on and ignores him until eventually he gives up and goes away.

This poison is far more slow-acting, and it doesn’t strike until early the next morning during breakfast. Bianchi and Reborn have taken her out to a nearby cafe for breakfast, citing ‘comfort food in these troubling times and a female shoulder to cry on’. In reality Bianchi wants to know her methods and trade tips, and Reborn pays for a tiny cake and congratulates her on finding sneaky solutions to her problems.

“I thought you’d go running off and tell Timoteo,” she confesses to her tutor. Reborn gives her a look.

“I’ve been around this business long enough to know how these things go, Tsuna. Trust me, I don’t judge you one iota for what you’re doing. But you should probably change your methods here shortly.”

She nods, having already planned to use a needle on whoever the unfortunate third soul is. They finish breakfast and head home, laughing and talking about whatever strikes their fancy, and when they arrive home its to a Timoteo that looks far older than before. “Grandfather? What’s wrong?”

He gives her a pitying look. “There’s… there’s been another death, my dear.”

She drops to her knees in shock, Bianchi by her side instantly, hooking an arm around her shoulders and murmuring comforting words as she ‘helps’ Tsunako up. Reborn’s face is shadowed, but Tsuna can see the sparkle in his eyes from her position. “What happened?” she asks in what she hopes is the right tone of voice.

Later, Reborn toasts her in the privacy of the bedroom, and Bianchi congratulates her on another job well done. This death is passed off as a choking accident, as apparently the man had been shoving as much food in his gullet as possible when the poison had kicked in. Nobody had managed to get to him in time to prevent the ‘choking’, which just made the victory all the easier.

Liveshow (Dan x Reader)

Character: Dan Howell (danisnotonfire)

Fandom: Phandom/Youtubers

Categories: Reader Insert, Female!Reader

Title: Liveshow


A/N: I got this idea from this post, from the @imaginedanandphil blog, which is really good! :D Also, written in Dan’s POV!!


Summary: Dan is in the middle of a liveshow when Y/N randomly decides to be loud on the other room and distracts him. Until she ends up joining him, with unexpected results.


For fuck’s sake. Y/N was being so loud in the other room, she was probably playing a game and having a rage fest because of it. Or fangirling about something. One thing or the other. Maybe even both, something to do with feels.

But since I was in the middle of a liveshow and couldn’t exactly do much at that moment, I resolved to just roll my eyes and grin at the camera with a resigned chuckle.

“Y/N is being so noisy” It was kind of distracting to hear her, even if I tried to focus on the people on the chat. “Rude…”

Keep reading

Endgame part 1 - Jughead x Reader

A/N: I had this idea from listening to so many songs and just mashing them together, so this series is like an All Time Low, Drunk and Happier mash up, hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: Drinking, Angst, Fights

Word count: 1631


You and Jughead had been best friends since the moment you first started Riverdale. You just clicked, no one in your little group of friends could believe how close you both were, seeing as Jughead seemed to hate everything, but whenever you were around his smirk turned into a smile and his heart would go a million beats a second.

You knew you loved him, Ronnie knew too, after all you two lived together and you couldn’t really live with her without her knowing, you had held it in for too long and decided you wanted at least one person you knew to know your feelings for the infamous Jughead Jones.

Ronnie ended up telling Betty and they both shipped you guys, hard. They would always find ways to either leave you two alone together or have you two be close to each other when everyone hung out in a group.

You were sure Ronnie had heard you sneak Jughead through the window one night, but that was completely platonic, he needed somewhere quiet to write his novel, Archie house (Where Jughead lived) had Archie and Val composing songs in the ‘Soundproof’ garage, Pops was full of the other jocks celebrating getting into some finals thing, but Jughead knew your room would be quiet.

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Lena Comforts Kara Pre- and Post-Rescue

She wants to tell her it’s not a good time.

She wants to tell her she has to go.

Because it’s complicated enough.

This balance of Kara Danvers and Supergirl.

She wants to tell her another time, that she has to go, but she can’t.

Can’t, because she needs Lena’s voice like she needs to find Alex, and she thinks maybe, maybe, she can start to understand why Maggie needs Alex so badly.

“It’s not a good time, actually, Lena, but um… I can… I’m so sorry, but I could use some…”

“Kara? What is it, what’s wrong? What do you need?”

Her voice breaks in her throat on the words as they try to come out.

Because she’s already destroyed Alex by exposing herself to Rick. Even if it was an accident.

She couldn’t afford accidents.

Not even, apparently, accidents that happened a decade ago.

“Where are you, Kara? Should I come meet you? I can leave right now – ”

“No, no, I just… just tell me, Lena.”

“Tell you what, Kara?” Her voice is nectar and her voice is comfort, and her voice is Kara’s cocoon, her refuge, her place to hide from the fact that her sister is dying, slowly and terribly, and it’s entirely her fault and there’s nothing she can do to stop it.

“Tell me it’s going to work out. Tell me it’s going to be okay?”

Her voice cracks into the question, and she doesn’t even have the emotional reserves left to be embarrassed.

“Kara, it… yes. Yes, it’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Lena sounds baffled and she maybe sounds a little bit scared, but Kara will make it up to her.

When Alex is safe.

When Lena’s words become reality and everything is okay again.

“Lena?”

“Yes Kara?”

“You promise?”

There’s a pause, and Kara wonders what Lena’s doing. Where she is. How she looks. If she has that look on her face that Kara has come to think of as her own.

Lena’s Kara Danvers Look.

“Yes, Kara. I promise.”

“Thank you. I… I have to go. Lena. Thank you.”

“Always, Kara. Always.”

She still sounds baffled, but she also sounds sincere.

Because she is.

It steels Kara for the rest of her day.

And it encourages Kara to call her back, after she’s spent a night with her sister and her sister’s girlfriend, both her and Maggie protecting Alex from nightmares. Protecting themselves from nightmares (and failing).

She calls Lena back, then, because Alex’s body is curled into Maggie’s, and they love each other – Kara didn’t understand, before, didn’t see it, not really, not like this, but now? now, there is no doubt in her mind and no doubt in her heart – and they, too, deserve the alone time she’d had with Alex the evening before.

So she calls Lena, and Lena picks up on the first ring, and Kara’s heart flies faster than her body.

“Kara, I was just thinking of you. Are you alright? Did everything work out yesterday?”

Kara glances back into Alex’s apartment with her x-ray vision and smiles at the image of Maggie’s arms still shielding Alex’s body.

“It did. Yeah. Thank you so much for… I don’t know, I guess I was kind of weird – ”

“No, not at all. Difficult times call for reassurance from… friends. It’s understandable, Kara, you have nothing to apologize for.”

She smiles and she tries not to blush and she fidgets because god, she hopes Lena wants to see her half as badly as she wants to see Lena.

“You wanted advice about something?” she reminds her, and Lena brushes her off.

“That resolved itself, too,” she tells her, and Kara can almost feel her thinking.

“Listen, Kara, I know it’s not our usual day and time, but… there’s this new brunch place I was hoping we could try – ”

“Yes! Absolutely! As long as there’s no kale this time – ”

“There will not be a leaf of kale in sight, I promise you,” Lena pledges.

Kara’s just glad at least one of Lena’s promises from the last couple of days has been true: everything did work out alright, but Kara did see kale. A lot of it.

But Lena valiantly maneuvered orders to keep it off Kara’s plate, ensuring that she only got the fluffiest pancakes, the crispiest waffles, and the freshest orange juice.

“Do you want to talk about whatever happened that had you so upset?” she asks when their laughter about Kara’s war against kale fades.

“You have so much going on, Lena, after Jack – ”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t have a lot going on, too, Kara. I don’t only want to be here for you when things are easy for me, you know. That’s not what I want to be to you.” She clears her throat. “That’s not the kind of friend I want to be to you.”

Kara’s heart sinks, and she can’t – or won’t – quite identify why.

“I…” She picks at her pancakes without eating them, and that’s when Lena is sure something dreadful must have happened. She puts her hands over Kara’s and swipes her thumbs across the backs of her hands.

“What is it, Kara?”

“My sister was in trouble. She… she almost died, it… and it was my fault, I was stupid, I put her in that situation, and then I made it worse, and her girlfriend was right the whole time but I didn’t listen to her, and it’s okay now, everything’s okay now, like you promised, but I just… Lena, it was my fault. All of it. My sister could have died – and even as it is, she suffered so much – and it was my fault.”

Lena’s eyes mist and she stares at the woman she’s come to hold in such high regard. Higher regard than she’s ever held anyone, really. She doesn’t stop to wonder about that, because she can’t.

She can’t lose this friendship. No. Absolutely not.

“You know, when Lex… made a name for himself…” Lena pulls a slight face at her own euphemism, and Kara smiles softly, turning her hands up so her palms are touching Lena’s, so she can stroke Lena’s hands with her own thumbs, too.

Neither of them acknowledge out loud that they’re holding hands, now, though neither of them can quite take their eyes off the sight for a long moment.

“I was convinced,” Lena presses on, because she cannot lose Kara’s friendship, “that it was my fault.”

“What?”

Lena smiles at Kara’s indigence. “When someone tells you all the wrongs in the world are on your shoulders enough times, Kara, it’s quite easy to start believing it.”

Kara thinks of the woman in front of her, and her eyes swim.

She thinks of her sister and Eliza, and her eyes nearly drown.

Drowning.

No.

She forces her entire mind back to Lena.

“You know it’s not true though, right? Even if it felt that way, Lena, it’s not your fault. None of it.”

Lena smiles and leans forward, whispering like they’re sharing an intimate secret.

Whispering like she’d whispered that Kara was her hero.

It melts Kara from the inside out, in all the most pleasant ways.

“Well, similar logic would suggest that what your sister endured wasn’t your fault either, Kara Danvers.”

Kara smiles and shakes her head softly before she looks up and squeals because her second order of waffles has arrived.

“I’ll never understand how you manage to eat all that, Kara, but I must say, it’s extremely endearing.”

Her smile is wholesome and her smile is adoring.

Her smile, to put it plainly, is perfect.

Kara beams and, appetite somewhat restored under the watchful, caring eyes of this woman who promised her everything would be alright, shovels a forkful of both pancake and waffle into her mouth.

She barely chews, takes a gigantic swallow, and grins.

“You’ll understand one day,” she says, and Lena believes her.

Not So Shore

A ‘Mortals Meet Percabeth’ fic, with a twist!!
10k words



“Hey, Kelly?”

Kelly looked up from her biology textbook, blinking at her best friend Olivia, who was definitely not doing the chapter review questions they’d been assigned. “What?”

“Do you think there’s something weird about Percy Jackson?” Olivia asked.

Kelly followed her to gaze to where Percy was sitting at the back of the room, leaning back in his chair. He wasn’t doing the review questions, either - instead, he was staring into the fish tank behind his desk. Kelly couldn’t see his face, but his dark hair was ruffled up and he was wearing his AHS hoodie with ‘Jackson’ emblazoned across the back of it.

“What do you mean, weird?” she asked, turning back around to Olivia.

Olivia shrugged. “I mean, just… there’s something strange about him.”

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anonymous asked:

How are you doing? I love your hcs about the s/o with prosthetic limbs. And I was wondering if you could do the same for Hanzo, Reaper, Sombra and Widowmaker! (I'm a different anon)

No worries and yes!

Hanzo

  • Hanzo had asked you the spring before you lost your limbs if you would marry him. The two of you had been rather excited-you had already made the plans for the following fall, a dress picked out and everything.
  • But then that summer the accident happened and the wedding had to be put on hold
  • To Hanzo, it didn’t matter how long you waited before the wedding as long as you would be okay.
  • He tried as hard as he could to show you that despite your physical changes, his feelings had not changed.
  • But for you, this was a loss. You didn’t feel like there was any way that he could truly want to marry you now that you were like this. After all, Hanzo showed a slight aversion or Omnics…and now you were only half human.
  • As you struggled to get used to your prosthetic limbs, you distanced yourself from Hanzo. It was like you were preparing for the worst, for him to call everything off.
  • And yet…you’d never felt more alone in your life. There was no one that could comfort you, and no one that you wanted more then him.
  • One day he was sick of playing the avoidance game. Hanzo had stormed up the steps of your house, shoved open the door…only to find you crying on the stairs. One of your prosthetic feet had fallen off and you were so tired, just tired of being this person and tired of pretending it didn’t matter and tired of feeling broken, physically and mentally.
  • After a moment of silence, Hanzo had slowly gone and crouched in front of you, picking up your prosthetic foot.
  • “Do not cry, beloved. Your tears make my heart ache,” Hanzo had said quietly, gently re-attaching your foot.
  • Looking away, you’d found it hard to face him after your behavior. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, for all of this. For treating you like that and for…for pushing you away and becoming this burden…” you whispered.
  • Hanzo had scowled instantly and picked you up like the bride you were, carrying you to the couch to sit with him.
  • “Beloved, a burden is a load that is heavy or difficult to bear. You are a gift i cherish every moment, and even with these prosthetic limbs, you are my only delight in this world,” Hanzo said gravely, ever the serious one.
  • Sniffling, you wondered if he really meant that.
  • “Now, no more avoiding me. We have a wedding to plan, y/n, and the sooner the better. I tire of living in a separate home from you,” he said seriously.
  • With half sob half laugh, the two of you sat there, snuggled for the first time in awhile, planned out the remaining details of your wedding as you realized there was no chance of him backing out.

Reaper

  • Despite having become Reaper, your relationship had survived when he had died and changed. Although you didn’t agree with his choices, you couldn’t leave him as you loved him more then anything
  • So when the accident occurred and you ended up having to have your limbs amputated… You grew silent. Cut yourself off, despite getting prosthetic limbs.
  • The event had traumatized you a bit, to be honest, and you felt like a monster for how you looked.
  • Reaper, despite having to lead Talon, was with you most of the time. He didn’t mean to but his worry came out as anger, especially when the doctors said they’d be amputating your limbs
  • This was just another sign to you that Reaper would not love you, not want you, when the deed was said and done. You thought he’d finally throw you out like trash.
  • Honestly though, few things scared a man like him, but your silence did.
  • One day he was sitting next to you, and after a moment you felt a cold hand touch your shoulder gently. In the corner of your eye you saw that Reaper had removed his glove and was watching you seriously.
  • “Y/n..” he rasped. “I’m begging you. Please talk. Say anything. Please.”
  • Turning your face away slowly, you took a shuddering breath. “You should probably go,” you whispered. “You don’t want me like this. I’ll only hold you back.”
  • Reaper leapt to his feet, hands moving to make you look at him. Lifting away his mask, he stared at you in shock and anger and sadness.
  • “Don’t ever say such a thing. I don’t care about your prosthetic limbs, y/n. I care about you,” he said seriously.
  • “But how can you want me when I’m like this?” you challenged, tears stinging your eyes. How could you cry before a man who felt so little emotion half the time?
  • Shaking his head, Reaper moved to sit on the edge of the bed. His expression was open, full of remorse and love and protectiveness. “You don’t understand. y/n, your the only person who makes me feel alive, the only person who makes my heart beat. Prosthetics or no, that isn’t going to change.”
  • For a moment you could only stare, before you let out a soft noise and were surrounded in his arms again, as he held you protectively. You wondered if that was true, but that was more expression you’d seen on his face in a very long time.
  • Reaper helped you grow more comfortable with your limbs, and killed anyone who dared to comment on them.

Sombra

  • She fell in love with you after the accident that led to you getting prosthetics
  • You’ve had prosthetic limbs now for almost a year and have grown quite used to them. The only thing that bothered you was you never felt pretty with them. People seemed to avoid you, other then those you already knew
  • So when Sombra ended up facing you time and time again during missions, even when they were failures, she couldn’t help growing to admire you and even formed a bit of a crush
  • It sucked because Widowmaker made fun of her for liking you, but Sombra got fed up with it at one point and totally broke Widowmakers sniper.
  • That is how Sombra ended up coming to you and Overwatch, seeking protection. Protection of course was her being in a isolated room with bars.
  • Lucky for her, you ended up being her guard and Sombra couldn’t stop herself from flirting with you from day one. Half the time you wondered if she was joking, but Sombra was funny and kind of cute when she was maniacal.
  • One day you two were sitting back to back in the room, as at this point you trusted her. The two of you were playing gold fish, and she’d just won.
  • “Hey chica, want to make the next round interesting?” Sombra said with a wink. “Winner gets a kiss!” That way Sombra could get one no matter what
  • With a roll of your eyes, you started shuffling the deck. “You shouldn’t joke about stuff like that. You’ll make me think i have a shot,” you said, half bitter and then blinked when you realized what you said. You had a bit of a crush on her too, but you didn’t think she’d go for it.
  • “Of course you do. I’m not kidding.I’ll throw myself into your arms now if you want,” Sombra purred, glancing over her shoulder at you. It made you incredulous. Was she kidding?
  • “But why…?” You asked with a frown, turning to look at her.
  • “Because for one, your smoking hot. No joke,” Sombra said, twirling a purple strand around her finger as she looked at the wall across from her. “And for another…i admire your strength. I wish i was as strong as you. You don’t let your limbs stop you and you continue living life like its nothing.”
  • After a moment she turned and smiled almost shyly at you. You’d never really thought of it that way before.
  • Sombra really was kind of cute, you decided, and thought maybe it would work out…maybe she did like you. So, against the better judgement of your superiors, you ended up freeing Sombra and dating her all within the same day. Now you both have a very complicated life when it comes to work, but at the end of the day you know she’ll always be your girl

Widowmaker

  • For her its a bit more complicated
  • At the beginning of your relationship, it really wasn’t about love. Widowmaker hadn’t really felt emotion in a long time, so more or less you were a bit of a plaything, a fling
  • But slowly, the more time you two spent together, she felt herself slowly growing attached
  • In a scary way, it was like her emotions had returned to her, but dulled down.
  • So that moment when after two years of your odd relationship you ended up in an accident, Widowmaker was stunned by the overwhelming sense of panic and worry that consumed her at the thought that she might have lost you.
  • Amelie had joined you in the hospital and sat with you while you went through a series of tests and procedures. All the while she managed to keep her composure.
  • When you woke up to find your limbs amputated and replaced by prosthetics, you thought it was the end. You knew how your relationship had started. Widowmaker had loved pretty things to amuse her. But now…you weren’t even that.
  • So when you saw Widowmaker walk in, holding a tray of coffee and a beignet, you turned away. She was probably here to just cut it off. You didn’t realize she’d been sitting with you for eight whole days, worrying over you.
  • “You’re awake,” she had said slowly.
  • “Yes. Don’t worry, i can imagine what your going to say. It was fun while it lasted, right?” you whispered, not looking at her.
  • For a moment, she had not responded..before stalking over and grabbing your limb. Lifting it, Widowmaker had stared at you and in turn, you were shocked to see angry tears in your eyes.
  • “‘It was fun while it lasted’? Are you joking?” She snarled, her french accent thicker then usual. “Ma Cherie, i was so worried! How dare you, after i spent eight days worrying endlessly in the hospital with you, try and dismiss me like this. I have been so scared! How could you be so foolish?”
  • For a moment you gawked, because honestly her tears were more shocking then the prosthetic limbs you’d woken up with.
  • “B-but…but you…don’t like ugly things…” you said, not understanding.
  • “There is nothing ugly i can see in this room, ma cherie, and certainly not you! I do not care if you have prosthetic limbs or real ones, because it is the you who has captured my heart, not your body,” Widowmaker said, breathing hard. For a moment the two of you could only stare at each other, before Widowmaker pressed the most gentle of kisses to your lips.
  • “I am not leaving,” she says quietly, as if to reaffirm that. “I am not leaving now, nor will i ever. My dove, you have ensnared me in your web. I will never be able to leave, as I love you too much now.”
  • It stunned you, to hear that from her. All this time you wondered if she had ever grown to care for you at all. To know that she loved you…that you had brought life back into the dead heart of widowmaker…it was astonishing.
  • “I…I love you too,” you whispered, holding onto her as though without her, your heart might break.
Nice Guys Finish Last (Jeff Atkins x Reader)

A/N: Gah, I feel like this is a lame chapter. I spent hours writing, wanting to put this story out. So further apologies if it’s bland. 😔

Chapter Summary: You, Jeff, Troy, and Mallory go to Jessica’s party. For some reason, Jeff isn’t his normal, happy self.

WARNING: cursing


03. Jessica’s Party

Y/N P.O.V.

You praised the day Friday came. Your classes had been taking its toll on you and working part-time at Rosie’s 3 days that week was hectic; but you managed to pull through it all.


You stood in front of your long-length mirror, hanged behind your bedroom door, and examined your outfit. You tried on 3 other outfits before settling for this one, yet, you still weren’t satisfied.

You would have changed again if it weren’t for a car honking for you.

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Ever so Charming~ Newt Scamander x Reader

Request: Right I have this idea that the reader is really good at charms and stuff so one day she’s with newt and they get into some sort of a tricky situation and reader does a charm on herself to make look attractive to whoever sees her so then she like flirts her and newts way out of the tricky issue and afterwards newt is like super confused cause she looks just like she always does. Fluff please.

A/N: I’m so sorry these requests are always taking me so damn long. I had this one half way done for a bit but then the flu came…I’m sorry

Please Enjoy

When your friend Newt Scamander wrote you to invite you to join him on a trip to study bowtruckles, you were not at all expecting to find yourself surrounded by a group of rude smugglers in a heated debate as to what they should do to the two of you.

You had known the Magizoologist for quite some time, and had bonded rather well. To say that you did not feel a warm feeling creep onto your cheeks or an increase in your heartrate around him would be an absolute lie. The once shy Hufflepuff had stolen your heart without even trying, but you couldn’t tell him so, as your friendship would surely plummet. Being his friend though, you accepted his frenzied invitation of excitement without hesitation, and you two soon set off in search of “these magical and fantastic and incredible bowtruckles” that Newt had rambled about.

Unfortunately, you two were not the first to arrive to observe these bowtruckles, as various men larger than the both of you had stuffed them all into crates like circus animals and had already begun to write out price tags for many, many galleons on each wooden prison. You were both wandering the forest as when you heard their laughing decrease to hacking, most likely from the large cigars they held in eat of their sausage-like hands. You both attempted to try multiple spells in order to evacuate or free the creatures to safety, but Newt had accidently let his hand slip, resulting in a few of the empty crates toppling over one another. This alarmed the men that they were indeed under a watchful eye, and now you were in the middle of them as they trailed their beady eyes down your body and spit down at Newt’s boots.

“Oy Leonard, looks like we got a couple of snoops here,” cackled the thinner of the men.

“Aye we do mate, aye we do. We can’t be having wandering eyes around our work. They’d snitch on ya,” spat the one who you assumed was Leonard.

The men then tried to decide on what they should do to you, and this made you quiver in a bit of fear. You looked over at Newt who looked just as fearful as he stared at the ground, wand still in hand, but if he were to use it, surely a larger fight would ensue. Your heart pounded in your chest as a shorter and plumper man with a scraggly mustache was giving you a look laced with lust and desire in all the wrong ways. You tore your eyes away and moved closer to Newt, yet you were already back to back. The men around you could do anything and you had to keep yourself calm and ready to defend yourself, and Newt, if needed of course.

“Y/n I’m so sorry about all of this,” whispered Newt, tears evident in his eyes. He felt horrible for dragging you into this mess, as it was his fault for making the noise that caused the smugglers to catch them.

You gave a soft smile to mask your growing fear, “It’s fine Newt, you didn’t mean to. Let’s just try and get ourselves out of this mess.”

He gave a nod at your statement and began fiddling with the buttons on his shirt as he tried to think of a way out. You stared off in thought, trying to think of a way to avoid using combat spells and spells that could easily be noticed. Rubbing your thumb over the texture of your wand, you hatched a clever and possibly extremely effective idea.

You had been gifted in the area of charms in your years spent at Hogwarts, and you had even been recognized for you talent by many of the professors who taught there. Often, you would find yourself staying an hour or so after class just to practice in the classroom, not that your professor minded, as they were more than impressed and ecstatic that a student was as invested in the curiosity of charms as they were. For some time after you graduated, you halted your practice and development of other charms, but now in your stressful and chaotic situation, you remembered a particular charm that could save you both without a hassle if you could pull it off.

The knuckles around your wand turned whiter and your heart rate sped up. You focused on your surroundings to make sure there were no distractions, and you murmured under your breath while giving the wand a shaky twirl. It had appeared that nothing had changed, as you two were still stuck in your sticky situation, however, that was quickly refuted when one of the men glanced your way with a softened look in his eyes. Simply, you smiled at him, before going through with the second part of your idea.

“Hello there, would you mind helping us out, we seem to be a bit stuck here,” you giggled, quickly earning the attention of a few of the other smugglers.

Your charm had in fact worked. You had remembered it as one of the most complex ones to pull off, but nonetheless, you had achieved success. Rather than combating the men with a fiery range of hexes and spells, you had charmed yourself to appear attractive to the men’s standards, and with this, you could talk and flirt your way into getting them to let you, Newt, and the bowtruckles, free. Though the charm was powerful, it also had the chances of letting up earlier than anticipated use, so you had to act swiftly. You sent another small smile their way, but earned a puzzled look from Newt. He was confused as to why they had suddenly stopped tormenting you, but he was more baffled as to what the charm had done. Nothing appeared different, you simply looked, in his opinion, just as radiant as ever.

The smugglers continued to stare at you with a lost gaze as they began to await for you to continue.

“We need to get out of here, but I think those creatures in those crates need help out as well. Would you all be a dear and perhaps, lend a hand to a simple witch like me?” you paused before walking over to one of the stockier men, “I think that someone as strong as yourself could do just that don’t you think?” you sealed with a smile and a wink.

The smugglers were practically stepping over one another to unlock the bowtruckles from their prison. You began to dust off your clothing when Newt turned to you, his hair flopping in the breeze and the eminent look of confusion etched on his features.

“Is there something I’m missing?” he asked.

Your eyes widened as you brought your hand up to your mouth. You had intended to appeal to the smugglers, but you could only imagine what effect the charm had on Newt. As much as you wanted him to show feelings or attraction for you, you wanted it to be real, not just as a side effect of a complicated charm.

“I-I um, the charm. I charmed myself to look attractive to them. That’s why they’re…doing that…” you trailed off, slightly embarrassed now, cheeks reddening.

Newt tried to speak, but he was cut off by the smugglers returning, yet this time, they hastily set down the opened crates of the bowtruckles. You moved towards them, turning their focus towards yourself so that Newt could transfer the creatures to his case without them noticing. Within minutes, you convinced the smugglers to let you and Newt go, and had you stayed any longer, the charm would have surely worn off.

Once the two of you were safely away, you both apparated back to where you were staying, miles away from the smugglers who were probably being interrogated by a group of aurors by now. You carefully mixed together a potion inside Newt’s shed, swirling the various herbs and ingredients that would hopefully heal the few injured bowtruckles. You washed your hands and then ventured out of the shed and walked towards where Newt was moving in the new arrivals. On your way, you continued to greet the other creatures, including the graphorns and Dougal, who continued to hold your hand as you maneuvered your way down the wooden steps. Newt was calmly speaking to the last few bowtruckles when you arrived, and he turned toward you with a lazy smile. He removed the potion from your hand, but let his smile slip as he looked into your eyes.

“Newt, is something wrong?” you asked, slightly confused still at the events that had happened. Why was he acting normal? Why didn’t he react when you were charmed?

“Yes, everything is fine, except these bowtruckles are a bit sick I’m afraid. They’ve got some nasty colds. Brilliant thing you did back there though, you were absolutely incredible,” he replied while administering small doses to the waiting creatures.

“You didn’t seem phased about it though.”

“Well, you said that you looked different, but I didn’t really understand that part of it. I thought you looked the same as always,” he continued.

You knew the spell was unpredictable, but you were confused as to why it hadn’t affected him in the slightest way.

He then added, “Just as beautiful as always,” but it came out as more of a hushed whisper.

Dougal looked up at you, his eyes flashing a brilliant blue, before scurrying away. You looked at Newt who now had cheeks the color of crimson. The bowtruckles climbed onto their new home after departing his hand, and he slowly walked over so that he was inches away from where you were standing. He tried to muster as much courage for what he was about to do.

“Newt what-,”

“Y/n,” he cut you off, “I said that you looked beautiful…a-as always, because you do. Not just on the outside, I meant on the inside as well. Perhaps that’s why I never thought a man as average as myself could win the heart of someone like you.”

He reached out for your hand and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles as you stood there slightly flabbergasted at his confession. You stumbled forward, hand still in his while he extended another to catch you if you fell.

You smiled up at him without a care in the world about the charm or why it hadn’t worked on him. His eyes shone brighter than the moon with hope before you whispered against skin, “I never thought that you were average.”

His grin grew larger before he leaned down to capture your lips with his. You expected a soft and gentle kiss from him, but it quickly melted into one of passion. The kiss was liquid gold, warm and breathtaking. His hand held onto yours firmly while your opposite one wove itself in his hair and then slowly trailed down from his cheek to his chin, running over the faint stubble that had appeared after days of travel. He deepened the kiss, further pulling you in. When his lips left yours, you were still breathless and wanting them to return. He simply flashed his signature and lopsided smile.

You didn’t need an explanation for the charm’s results, not when you finally had everything you’d ever need right in front of you. You closed your eyes once more and let the silence speak for itself as Newt wrapped his arms fully around you, lifting you slightly, and brought you into another of his kisses that would soon become very familiar.

Masterlist

anonymous asked:

Do you have any recs where an alive! Hale pack reacts to Steter? Whether they can't believe Peter has found someone just as snarky or if they don't think it's gonna last and whatever is Peter doing to the poor boy? The fics don't have to be centred this though, just some interesting reactions from the Hale pack would be nice. :) Thanks!

Definitely! Here’s some I liked:

The Unexpected Marriage of Peter Hale by moonstalker24

This is the story of how Peter gets married without technically dating anyone.

“You can bring your boyfriend with you,” Talia says.
Peter stops giving Henry more bits of dried fruit to stare at his sister “Boyfriend?”
“Of course!” Talia gestures at Stiles who looks around behind him with wide eyes. “I’m sure the whole family would be interested in meeting your young man.”

Proposing To Strangers by moonstalker24

At the end of a strained relationship, crime novelist Stiles chooses to hide from the world inside a bar with far too many motorcycles outside it for comfort. Here he’ll meet the man of his dreams, eat food and propose marriage, all within the first five minutes.

Peter doesn’t know who this kid is, but he’s cute and looks like he could use a break. So he feeds him. He’s not expecting a marriage proposal, but with what comes after, he doesn’t really mind.

Sweet Like Cherry Wine by ladypigswagon

Stiles growls softly. He can’t seem to get the beak right, it’s too narrow, disproportionate with the rest of the head. He sighs, charcoal smudged fingers leaving grey marks on his cheeks as he drags a hand over his face. The crow he’s studying hops closer, squawking indignantly when it sees Stiles drawing.

“I’m trying,” Stiles mutters. The crow squawks again, hopping back along the branch. The setting sun casts a warm orange glow through the gaps in the treetops. His mother will probably come collect him for dinner soon; he needs to get this right before the light fades.

This Time Around by alternativename, Green

Stiles is a seer dreaming about a pack of werewolves who die in a fire; Peter is a begrudging packmate who doesn’t really feel like part of the family.

When Stiles finally crosses the line and changes the Hales’ history forever, the two of them start up their own story.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Red String verse by gryvon

Peter had given up hope of ever finding his soulmate until the red string on his finger leads him to a four-year-old. He’s going to Hell. Or jail. Or both.

You Had Me at Canapes by LadyArinn

Stiles doesn’t mean to sneak into the Hale wedding, and he certainly doesn’t mean to have cliche coat-room sex with the bride’s uncle, but what had happened, happened, and it wasn’t like he could just leave. At least, not until he got to have some of that cake.

The Time Travel Grammar Book by Guede

Young newly-single mother Talia takes her three children home, only to find her parents missing and her teenage brother talking about strange monsters in the woods—and they’re werewolves themselves, after all, so this is worrying.

Meanwhile, Stiles, Scott, and Lydia touch down in yet another timeline. Obviously, they’re not here for the nostalgia.

The Dragon’s Wolf by DenaCeleste

Stiles is a vengeful dragon, and Peter is his mate. Stiles just has to convince Peter of that while they deal with the attempted murder of the Hale pack.

Write Me Love Notes in Glitter Glue by pibroch (littleblackdog)

The task of the modern educator is not to cut down jungles, but to irrigate deserts.

Stiles is a single dad with two kids, and a real contempt for the status quo. Peter is a kindergarten teacher with an army of loyal little minions, and maybe a few ulterior motives.

Can I Tattoo a Baby? by Elpie (Horribibble)

Before he inked his first tattoo, Stiles Stilinski had filled a dozen sketchbooks.
Before he knew what he wanted to do with his life, Stiles Stilinski had a kid to take care of.
Before he threw in the towel completely, Stiles Stilinski met Peter Hale.

Life is made up almost exclusively of happy accidents. (And some really terrifying childhood memories.) But that’s okay.

(Really they’re all kind of morons, but the Buffy style asskicking doesn’t hurt.)

Goodbye to a World by mia6363

Too many of them had died… and those who were left were more broken because of it. So when Peter hesitantly admitted to knowing about a spell that would send someone back in time Stiles knew he had to do it.

Of Gods and Men by Triangulum

Peter has always had his favorites. It’s not that he’s particularly fond of humans, he’s not, but he finds that walking invisible among them at times is much more entertaining than dealing with the squabbling and politics of the other gods. He’s always been a solitary creature among them, though his sister always calls him strange for that and says that gods aren’t meant to be alone. Maybe that’s why she has a horde of children.

OR

The one where Peter is a god and finds a favorite in Stiles.

We Were Supposed to Be by Udunie

Stiles didn’t know what he expected to see in the closet. It was like every other one down the hallway, filled with cleaning supplies a janitor could need in a hospital. There wasn’t anything extraordinary, not a bottle out of place.

Two weeks ago, Heather killed herself in there.

Omegas were supposed to have sensitive noses, but Stiles couldn’t pick up anything. It all smelled like sickness and disinfectant, like every other room.

“Move it,” Harris barked out behind him. The beta swatted Stiles’ head with his clipboard, sending his ears ringing.

Stiles moved, feeling like he was in a bubble that made everything gray and dull on the outside.

Sometimes he missed Heather. Sometimes he envied her.

Less Sass, More Cupcake by nezstorm, Vaal

Stiles and Peter are a forever kind of deal. They know that, everyone who knows them knows that, the creatures they fight are aware of that, too. What they all don’t realize, though, is that Stiles and Peter haven’t taken the final step yet.

Strange Duet by BelleAmante, thiliart (thilia)

The past three years have been a series of shocking, or not so shocking, successes for 2018 Tony award winner and two time Grammy nominee, Stiles Stilinski. You don’t typically find classically trained opera singers singing alternative folk rock to crowds at Coachella. Nor do you find indie singer/songwriters winning best actor awards at the Tony’s for their Broadway debuts. Stilinski has made it his lifetime habit to defy and exceed all expectations.

-or-

A Steter fic loosely based on Phantom of the Opera

Kindred Spirits - Teen Wolf Arc by Starkindler

Stiles was registered as Dormant when he didn’t come online at sixteen, after even his mother’s sudden death didn’t trigger his Sentinel genes. He wasn’t supposed to come Online. They said only an extreme circumstance where he feared for his survival could possibly trigger his genetics into becoming active, but they doubted it would happen even then. In other words, he was broken.

His life just wasn’t that exciting. Or so he thought, until one day he and Scott decided to take a jog in the woods, preparing for cross-country for their Senior year. It was the first half of summer, and starting early ensured they were in great shape for the start of school. There were general warnings of staying out of the woods, talk about how they could be dangerous. Stiles never believed them, because he’d spent some quality time in those same woods his entire life.

Besides, nothing ever happened in Beacon Hills.

Spinning Gold by Elpie (Horribibble)

Stiles finds himself locked in the highest room of the tallest tower, and he knows that when they come for him at dawn, it will still just be a room filled with straw.

Until Peter messes everything up.

-

“Your doubt, while charming, is unwarranted. It can be done, and it will be done, but first we should come to an agreement, don’t you think?”

you and me are the lucky ones by Sang_argente

“Alpha McCall, it seems like there’s only one way to settle this alliance then.”

“You’re right,” Scott replied. “Stiles and Peter will tie our packs by marriage.”

“Wonderful. Shall we set the wedding for this time next month?” Talia asked.

“Agreed.”

Temporary Claim by run_for_me

Some, of course, are off limits. Queen Talia and her husband have their special favorites who join their marriage bed from time to time. Laura has several young strapping men that are hers and hers alone. Even Derek has a few favorites—the quiet ones, the sweet ones.

Peter? The Duke only has one.