just her voice when she says it

Written for @jemmasimmouns, who requested FS + 75 - I was just thinking about you. This also fulfills @thefitzsimmonsnetwork’s EvB Spacetime challenge. (My headcanon - Fitz loves to give Jemma homemade gifts.) 

Synopsis: His first question was simple - what did she miss most? 
“Besides you?” she replied. “The sun.” 

Read below or on AO3!

~

He didn’t want to ask, but when all she wanted was to hear his voice, he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

She had simply uttered his name before passing out in the pit, as well as a few mumbled thanks when they helped her into bed. She fell asleep almost instantly, but Fitz couldn’t think of leaving her alone – not after so much time – so he stayed and slumped heavily against the wall. But now she was sleeping on his lap, the pressure of her hand on his leg pulling him from a deep sleep. He figured she might be a bit embarrassed by it, so he didn’t want to make a fuss. Instead, he wanted her to feel safe. And he wanted her to know that whatever she needed, even just a lap to sleep on, he would be there for her – no questions asked.

Moving his hand to the side of her neck, he brushed back her hair lightly and listened to her steady breathing, the most calming sound in the world. A few seconds later, he felt her turn her head slightly, possibly seeking out his touch, or simply feeling disoriented from the unfamiliar surroundings. He didn’t want to frighten her, so he leaned over gently to whisper close to her ear.

“Jemma?”

“Hmm?”

He watched her lips creep into a small smile, so he let out a soft sigh before moving his hand to her shoulder. “Do you want to get back on the bed? I won’t leave – I just figure it’s more comfortable…”

Instead of sitting up, she simply snuggled closer into his lap. “No,” she whispered. “Not yet.”

“Do you want to talk? About anything?”

“You talk. I’ll listen.”

Keep reading

all the love I never gave (excerpt)

Erin asks them questions about their gear, acts like there isn’t this massive Thing between them, like they don’t have decades of history, like they’re just complete strangers searching for a ghost together.

Screw that.

Erin wants to pretend like none of it ever happened?

Holtz isn’t going to let her.

She pans the camera to Erin’s face, if only so she has something to look back over later when Erin inevitably leaves again. Then she directs the camera to the collar of her shirt and decides to play hard. “Where did you find such a tiny little bowtie?”

Erin stiffens, and Holtz can tell that she knows exactly what she’s referencing.

“It—it came with the shirt,” Erin says, her voice shaking.

“How stupendous,” Holtz says quietly.

Erin gives her a pained look.

Holtz lowers the camera.

“Jillian, I—”

Abby rattles a locked door. “Somebody really doesn’t want us getting in here.”

Broken out of what may have been a moment, they turn their attention to Abby, who has already moved on to the parlour.

“Holtzmann, come check this out.”

“Hold your ponies,” Holtz calls, then gives Erin one last chance to say whatever she was interrupted from. When she stays quiet, Holtz sighs and joins Abby.

anonymous asked:

How would Romano react if Spain's girlfriend who is a really passionate flamenco dancer turns out to be sick in the head. She is mysterious, reticent towards Romano and always has a blank expression on her face, when he asks her if she could tell more about herself while Spain went somewhere else, she answers with "I burned my own house down when I was 9,  I have just wanted to know how being in hell feels like, and guess what, it was so liberating" with a deadly serious voice?

Romano:

“…okay?…”

  • He is unsure if he should be concerned for her, or for himself. He is extremely shocked to say the least.
  • I don’t know why but the song ‘F*ck this sh!t i’m out’ keeps coming to mind whilst reading this ask. I can just see him slowly backing out.
  • The only real question that comes to mind is ‘does Spain know?’ If not, oh boy will he have a rant and a half coming for him.
  • He feels kinda bad for the girl, not too bad but a little bad. Why she did it is probably a bit deeper than she lets on and he kinda wants to know.
  • His mind is screaming at him to get the hell out of there. He’s going to wait for Spain though, gotta have a back-up right?
  • Spain’s Girlfriend is going to lose all contact with him, he wants absolutely  nothing to do with her. Spain can do what he wants, he just doesn’t want anything to do with it.

“hello,” the dark lord said, “i need a library card.”

“everyone needs a library card,” the librarian said brightly, sliding a form across the desk. “fill this out.”

the dark lord produced her own elaborately plumed quill from the depths of her robes and scrawled her name in handwriting that was completely illegible but seemed to whisper the secrets of the dark from the blinding white page. “yes, but i need mine in order to take over the tri-kingdom area.”

the librarian’s polite smile barely faltered. “funny, the last dark lord to try that didn’t bother with a card.”

“yes, and do you see that fool currently ruling our kingdom? no. of course not. utterly ridiculous, to attempt to take over any size country without a library card, much less an intermediate-sized one like this.” she accepted the thin plastic card with a gracious flourish of her gloved hand.

the librarian, adding the new card’s number to the database, privately agreed, but chose not to say anything.


the librarian balanced the pile of pulled books under one elbow and held the list of call numbers in their hand for easy consultation. “intermediate spell casting for grades three and four,” they murmured, running fingers along the peeling spines until they found it. “willing to bet that’s sorrel’s request.”

they fit the large, paperbound book under their elbow and moved on, checking the list again. “magical creatures encyclopedia, L through M. that’s jackaby trying to finish the entire set by midsummer.” they would get that one last to carry it around the shortest amount of time.

“next — the complete guide to raising the dead.” they paused in front of the row of shelves with the right call numbers. they could guess the requester of that one too, but knew better than to say it out loud.


the return slot thunked loudly as it swung open and closed, having swallowed the returned books with a wet gulp.

“good morning,” the dark lord said pleasantly as she looked up from sliding her books in — or as pleasantly as “good morning” could sound when it was uttered by a voice that sounded like gravel being chewed to pieces by the jaws of a large monster.

“it is, very,” the librarian said crisply, conjuring a clean handkerchief for the still-slobbering return slot.

the mouth just visible under the dark lord’s enormous cloak hood curved into a scythe’s blade smile, but she said nothing else.

“did you enjoy your books?” the librarian asked, since she wasn’t moving and there were no other people waiting (most likely because of the dark lord standing there).

the hood nodded up and down. “extremely. especially the taped lecture by doctor dramidius ardorius of the dark arts institute.”

“well, we have many more taped lectures. i especially recommend the one on the healing powers of tea.” they tilted their head in a now get out sign. the poor steam-powered self-checkout contraption would get overheated if people were too scared to check out at the front desk.

they didn’t really expect the dark lord to take the recommendation seriously, but the next day they noticed the cloaked, hooded specter glide out the door with the taped lecture on magic-infused herbal teas tucked between a CD of dark chants and a step-by-step art book on drawing occult symbols.


“you give good recommendations,” the dark lord said with a shrug when the librarian raised their eyes from the front desk’s computer to the shadows of her hood.

the librarian wasn’t sure what to say. “you seem to take up quite a lot of my time.”

“i’m only a simple library patron,” the dark lord replied in a saintly voice that resembled a dragon coughing up a partially digested house. “do you enjoy mermaid song?”

“yes. you can find the library’s collection in the CD section over there.” they looked pointedly back down at the computer.

“i hear there’s a concert on the shore tomorrow evening.”

“perhaps we’ll get a recording of it.”


the dark lord continued taking out books on various unsavory topics. the librarian continued suggesting books on healing, positive thinking, and community service. the dark lord seemed more amused with each visit. her smile was almost charming, once you got past the long, sharp teeth.


the librarian was trying to go about their usual morning ritual of pulling books that had been requested the night before, but the dark lord wouldn’t stop making faces at them from behind gaps in the shelves. she seemed to find it hilarious. the librarian hadn’t decided yet if they were amused or annoyed.

“ooh, look at this,” the dark lord said, pulling a sturdy but beaten up board book featuring a werewolf mid-transformation on the cover from the shelf. “this was my favorite when i was just a little menace.”

“somehow i’m not surprised.”

the dark lord tucked the book into the ridiculous basket made of a large skull that floated alongside her. “didn’t you have a favorite picture book when you were little?”

“Barker the Sentient Book End,” the librarian said promptly. “i screamed for it every night until someone read it to me, long after i’d already memorized each page.”

the dark lord cooed, sounding like a cross between an owl and something eating an owl. “adorable. i knew you had a little monster in you somewhere.”

the librarian crossly debated denying being a monster at all or pointing out they had actual kraken blood in them.


they should have guessed how close the dark lord was from how good her mood was, but it wasn’t until they arrived at work on monday that the librarian heard the news.

“the newest dark lord managed to overthrow the faeyrie monarchy last night. something about combining traditional herbal spells with a newfangled mental magic based on the power of willful thinking… or something. the news reporter mentioned the use of mermaid song in a mild kind of mind control, i think? i wasn’t listening. the good news is, our budget stays in place.”

the librarian contemplated hurling the can of bookmarks across the room, but concluded that it would be both unprofessional and unsatisfying. they settled for aggressively stamping returned, only slightly saliva-covered books with red ink.


the phone clicked loudly. “public library, how can i help you?”

“by taking my offer,” the dark lord said, slightly hesitant voice like a rock slide that wasn’t sure it was ready to slide. “the royal library in the capital needs a new head librarian.”

“why’s that?” the librarian spun in their new swivel chair, tangling the phone cord while they were at it, thinking they wouldn’t want to leave so soon after getting it.

there was a cough like the ocean spitting out a new island. “erm, hmm, last one got… eaten. tragic. these things happen when you’re very, very small, you know.”

“so i’ve heard.” the librarian stretched the phone cord and watched it bounce back. “well, i’m happy where i am.”

“well.” her voice was more disappointed than they’d expected. “it’s a very nice library, you know. large selection of mermaid song in the CD section.”

“the royal library is part of our system. i can request any materials from there that i want to be delivered here.”

a pause. the dark lord had not considered this. “well, maybe i’ll take the royal library out of the system.”

“you wouldn’t dare disrupt the workings of our very intricate library system set up at the dawn of time.”

“maybe i would!”

“no.”

“fine. i wouldn’t.”

the librarian swiveled some more, wrapping the cord around with them until it ran out of give and spun them in the other direction. “would you like to grab a coffee sometime?”

“yes,” the dark lord said, voice too surprised to resemble anything in particular. “i can travel down meet you tomorrow morning.”

“don’t you have things to do?”

they could sense the shrug from the other end of the line. “i’ll move the capital to your town. i can do that, you know. i’m the supreme ruler of the tri-kingdom area.”

“yes,” the librarian agreed, un-spinning to return the phone to its cradle. “just don’t forget who gave you the library card.”

the princess stayed in the tower and read books about better girls, where their hands learned how to hold swords, where they rode in on horses. i gave her books as often as i could. she devoured them.

her princes saw her and pretended to be scared off by dragons. got too lost in the thicket. didn’t want to handle it.

“tell me what it’s like, out there,” she whispers to me for the millionth time. i take her from The Throne into her bed, tucking her in and making sure her feet are covered. 

“boring without you” i say as always, “but i did bring back a great story.”

i tell her about how the stars change beyond the equator. how there are places it looks like there are twin suns. how the desert crawls into you but so does snow. i talk about the taste of fruit and promise to bring her back some. she falls asleep while i murmur about rivers, and then in the morning i bring her from bed to Throne, even though she can do it on her own. sometimes she likes help, is all, and i’m happy to give it. 

she doesn’t want help getting dressed. the men come for me, blindfold masters i have almost befriended. the path we take away from her is always different, carefully manufactured so i don’t know exactly where she’s located. after all, a lady might get ideas about things.

they let me go in the queen’s room. i report findings, ask for fruit in the next week’s supplies, am told not to spoil the princess, that she must be kind and waifish and wanting when the prince comes. i spend an hour suggesting that fruit might turn the blood sweeter and am allowed six oranges.

in the next week, she marvels over them. turns them in her calloused hands. smells them. holds them until she can’t control her curiosity, devours them. i bring her books about rivers. i bring her books about deserts. 

“when is our birthday?” she asks me tonight. i’m knitting her a scarf for it.

“soon,” i tell her, “i’ll come by.”

she rolls onto one side, looks up at me in the dimming light. “I’m glad they chose you to be mine,” she says, and i drop a stitch. my heart sings against the inside of my wrists. i blow out a candle so she can’t see the blush and i can’t see her lips. i know what she means, i say. i know what she means.

it’s twenty-three for both of us. i bring her a cake we both eat, her on her throne and me on the floor. i am in the middle of laughing when she falls silent in the still night. “nobody else ever comes for me,” she whispers. i say nothing.

we have more cake, we go to sleep. i don’t know if she knows i’m awake, but i hear her crying.

the men come, the men take me. the one that smells like cedar always laughs at my jokes. the queen half-hates me because i remind her of “that nasty thing” they forced on their daughter. 

“the left wheel needs oil,” i mention, “she’s having trouble turning again.”

the queen’s nose goes up. she never reacts when i mention her daughter’s wheelchair by name - doesn’t find it funny we call it a throne, thinks it’s well enough to leave alone.

“well, she’ll have a prince in this next month coming for her,” says the queen, “i’ve arranged it all,” says the queen, “he’s … had the situation explained to him first this time. i thought it would be best,” says the queen. “we’re paying him…. quite a lot for his effort,” says the queen.

situation. she means that her daughter can’t walk very far. she means the situation of towers. i excuse myself. i find my girl books about turning down marriage. i’m not sure why. it’s all she’s ever wanted.

they blindfold me and take me. cedar laughs at my jokes. the sawdust one is here this time, even he chuckles at a few. we ride horses through places i’ll never see clearly. 

“so according to the queen this is the last time i’m needed, huh?” i ask them as they walk me blindly up too many stairs for my girl to make it down, “i’m sorry i never made your acquaintance.”

cedar laughs. he takes off my blindfold and for a second, lets me see his face. “it’s been an honor,” he says, shaking my hand, “you’ve been a perfect lady.”

i spend the day with my princess pretending i am not peeling apart from my bones. i just want her to be happy. to get to come home. 

it’s late. “do you think in a past life i was a mermaid?” she asks.

“almost definitely,” i tell her. 

it’s quiet for a while after. “what if,” she whispers, “i don’t want to leave?”

i sit up and look at her from across the room. 

“it’s just,” she says, “i have you here and all the books i need and nobody makes me walk too long and i don’t feel like… like i’m wrong here.”

i want to tell her she’s never been wrong. that she’s always fit into my heart like a puzzle piece. that, more importantly, the leadership i see in her glows like a fire - that, no matter her body, she’s always been kind and gentle and smart and sweet. a princess that could bring a nation to her feet and do so lovingly.

“it will be okay,” i say, “there’s more fruit to discover.”

she doesn’t say anything. i think i’ve ruined something by accident, but i don’t know what. i don’t really sleep. i don’t say anything when the men come take me.

the world outside without her is boring. no mermaids. i put my hand in a river once a day, just thinking about her. 

two weeks later i am awoken by my name, and a voice i recognize perfectly. cedar stands above me in the darkness. “i know two things in this world,” he says to me, “and one of them is about love.”

this time we make the trip without blindfolds. i see the squalor they keep her in. i see the waste surrounding her castle, the terrible place she’s in. rage fuels my footsteps even when they start flagging. 

the prince is already there. he has dropped her twice, cedar tells me. i am already running up the stairs even though i can barely breathe. i hear her crying through the door and i don’t need to get ready - the fire that starts in me burns so brightly.

i roar inside. turn dragon and beat back prince with girl made rage. the bruises on her body turn me into giant snake. i eat the man alive, or at least i chase him from the place, never to be seen again. later i will hear a rumor about a demon that stole the princess from him.

she cries into my arms. i take her down every single stair. i hear her murmur her thanks into my hair and then i kiss her, because i can’t handle it, because i have places to show her and she has my heart to lead.

my house isn’t much but it’s near a river. she likes putting her hands into it. i take her places when she is able, and otherwise i bring the places back. we read books together. cedar no longer works for the queen, but he’d rather live with the man of sawdust making tiny wooden figurines.

i lie in bed next to her, stroking her soft hair. “do you think i was a centaur in a past life?” she asks.

“definitely,” i tell her, and kiss her, gently. she holds my face and pulls herself closer to me.

“will i be a good queen? i mean, in this life?”

“i’m certain of it,” i reply. i can hear the truth ring in it. the bone-deep certainty.

she’s quiet for a moment. “you saved me,” she whispers, “and usually we’d end up married. but…”

i don’t know how to answer that. i feel ice down my spine suddenly.

“i’m not demanding, is all,” her voice shakes, “i’m asking this time. for you to choose me. for me to be yours, i mean. and for you to be mine. permanently.”

the next birthday we celebrate, we are both queens.

2

Okay seriously…how fucking gorgeous are Olara and Varl? X_X

That's Not So Different

@lovelylangst, I saw your idea that Voltron is hit by a spell by Haggar that makes them all revert to their original languages and I loved it so much I made a fic out of it.
I don’t know if you like your ideas being written out, so if you don’t, tell me and I’ll take it down.
Also, I kinda changed the idea a bit, so basically Pidge is perceptive and Allura is an oblivious bastard.

I don’t usually write ff alright.

Word count - 2000+

Pidge stumbled out of her lion, her bayard clasped to her chest, wheezing. Her voicebox felt like it had been clapped in hot iron, and black lightning sparked painfully from her armour where Haggar’s spell had struck Voltron. It had lanced all the way through the metal, and Pidge had heard Hunk whimper in pain.

Keith was sliding down Red’s leg. Some of his armour was shattered - no doubt from the hit - and his helmet was off. Sweat stuck to his forehead. His violet eyes were wide, and full of fear. He didn’t seem to want to look at her.

Hunk and Lance were nowhere to be seen - hiding out still in their lions, probably, like a mouse from a cat’s claws. Shiro eased himself out of his lion’s mouth. His helmet was off, too, but he looked unhurt. Voltron hadn’t won - but they’d escaped. For now, they were safe.

“Shiro! Pidge!” Allura came sprinting up to the hangar, her silvery hair flying behind her - she hadn’t bothered to tie it up. Coran was running behind her. “Lance!”

“He’s… He’s still in his lion, Coran,” stammered Pidge. “Oh, God, that was a hit… I feel all weak.”

“It must have been the komar,” deduced Coran, his hands a flurry at the scanner. “That spell Haggar devised. Do you feel like you’re going to pass out? Are you hurt?”

Pidge shook her head, shakily. “No,” she muttered. “I’m f-fine. Just shaken.”

“Keith? Shiro?” asked Allura. Her eyes were wide. “Are you hurt?”

Keith shook his head. Shiro opened his mouth to say something, but Keith, swift as a whip, stuck his hand over Shiro’s jaw. Shiro glared at him, and pulled his arm away.

“Shiro -”

There was something different about Keith’s voice.

It seemed more accented, sounding a little like Shiro’s when he mumbled to himself in Japanese. Keith didn’t seem eager to say much. He had deactivated his bayard, and was staring at it like he’d lost purpose. Pidge felt a rush of fear, down to her toes. Something was different, and if Keith was acting on it, then something was not only different, it was wrong.

“Kīsu, sore o yame nasai -”

Shiro clamped a hand over his mouth.

Pidge glanced at him, curiously. “Shiro?”

Shiro’s eyes had gone terrified. His cheeks were pale as chalk.

“Shiro?!” Allura sounded scared, her hands tugging at her hair in apprehension. “What’s happened? What was that?”

“Japanese,” Pidge said, exchanging a look with Keith. “Shiro, are you okay? You look -”

She wanted to say like death, but she felt like it might be considered a bit too rude and out of place, seeing as they had just nearly died anyway. Shiro looked like he was going to throw up. Keith, standing beside Shiro, put his arm on Shiro’s shoulder, and led him away without a word.

“What’s going on?” spluttered Coran. He was tapping at the blue lion’s leg with his communicator. “The lions are running, but Hunk’s been knocked out and Lance just won’t leave his! What’s wrong?”

“I think,” said Pidge slowly, “that something is different.”

Slav came running in, just as the blue lion’s jaw opened. The noodle alien paused, his eyes round.

“Oh, so you survived,” he said. “The probability of that was highly unlikely. Are you sure you’re alive?”

“Yes, Slav,” muttered Pidge. “Go do something else now.”

Slav didn’t move. He twisted a whisker like tendril around his mouth with his top pair of arms, like the way Coran did.

Footsteps tapped behind her, and Pidge looked back.

Lance limped towards them, taking off his shattered helmet. One eye was bruised and puffy. His knee trembled under his body weight.

“Lance!” Pidge ran up to him, but before she reached him, he collapsed, smudging blood on the floor. Allura gasped, and ran to join Pidge beside him.

Lance’s body was battered with bruises. His eyes were closed, one swollen with blood and purple. His armour was a mess, but at least he was breathing.

“Is he okay?” Allura whispered.

“I think so,” Pidge confirmed. She took off her glasses and pressed the lens to Lance’s bruise to test the severity. While she did that, Coran helped a very dazed Hunk out of his lion. He looked confused, but unhurt. Better than Lance and Shiro, at least.

“Why was Shiro speaking Japanese?” Allura asked, in an offhand voice. Pidge looked up.

“Native language,” she shrugged. “People tend to switch to their native language when they’re shocked.”

“Really?” Allura sounded interested. “What’s yours?”

“Sarcasm.”

Allura sighed. “English, right?”

“Yeah,” Pidge admitted, looking a little guilty.

-

“How’s Lance?” Pidge asked.

Coran was standing by the healing pod, twisting his moustache. He started when Pidge spoke.

“Pidge! Oh, you scared me!” He wiped his forehead. “He’s alright. He wasn’t badly injured. An hour more, and he should be raring to go!”

“Right, thanks.”

Coran eyed her.

“How is Shiro?”

Pidge sighed. “Still in shock. Babbling to Keith in Japanese. Clear to God Keith doesn’t understand a word of it.”

“Oh, really?” Coran looked interested. “Had Keith spoken yet?”

“No…” Pidge suddenly realised where Coran was coming from, and a jolt of horror shook her. “No, Coran. That doesn’t happen to us. Besides, neither Keith nor Lance have spoken, and they have English as their first language.”

“Not Keith,” said Coran. “His family - ignoring the Galra side - come from Korea. They moved to Texas before he was born.”

“Fine, Lance then.”

Coran glanced at her, before saying, in a controlled voice:

“Druid magic is capable of many things, Pidge.”

Pidge shrugged.

“It’s different, certainly.”

-

“So, you’re saying…” Allura tapped her nails on the table. Around her, sat Pidge, Coran, and Slav.

“Yes, princess,” said Coran, not needing the question to be finished. “Earthlings have many languages. It’s totally possible.”

“That’s true,” admitted Slav. He fiddled with his fingers, his beaklike mouth quivering.

“Admittedly,” Allura said, “you could be right. But then why is Lance not speaking? He speaks English, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, princess,” said Pidge. “That, I don’t get. He’s biracial, Cuban-American… Maybe he speaks Spanish.”

Allura snorted. “Trying to get attention, more like.”

“Hey!” Pidge retorted. “Lance isn’t like that! Don’t go like that! When he’s breaking like that, it’s dangerous!”

“Pidge, he’s like that every day!” Allura complained. She looked away from Pidge’s angry face into Coran’s concerned one. “So, I chase down Lance, and then we wait for the magic to wear off?”

“If it wears off.”

Pidge glared at Slav. “You know, for someone who’s always complaining about the odds, your pessimism doesn’t exactly help.”

“It doesn’t?”

Pidge fought the urge to throw Slav out the airlock.

“Princess, your idea of ‘chasing down Lance’ doesn’t seem to work in my mind,” Coran fretted. “He’s earned some rest.”

“Which he has now had!”

Coran sighed.

“Y'know, Princess,” Pidge said, trying to relieve some tension, “maybe I should just go get Lance.”

“No,” said Allura, standing up, and brushing her hair behind her in a determined fashion. “He won’t take it seriously if you deliver it. I will.”

And before anyone could say anything, Allura left, shutting the door behind her.

-

“Lance?”

Her fingers stung underneath the icy feel of the doorframe. The sky-blue light swept over the stooped figure hiding in the corner. Cloaked in an olive jacket.

“Lance?” Allura stepped cautiously forward, before gasping, and taking a few hesitant steps back.

Lance was crying.

The blue paladin sat hunched, her forehead on his knees and his tan hands wrapped over his face. Tears glittered on his hands like liquid diamond, rasping unintelligible words to the floor.

“Lance!” Allura said, for the third time, but now her voice filled with panic. She didn’t know why - Lance had always irritated her, even after he had stopped his stupid flirting game - but the Lance in front of her looked like the last kind of person to flirt with a princess. What she could see of the gleam of his blue eyes he was raw with sadness.

“Oh, my god,” Allura whispered. Lance didn’t look up - had he even heard her?

She heard footsteps behind her, and saw Pidge and Keith. Both of them looked stricken. Keith had his hands over his mouth as he hurried to Lance’s side. His eyes gleamed, and he looked horrified.

Pidge stood, her hands on her bayard. She looked angrily triumphant, accusing eyes on Allura, hissing, “I told you! I swear to god I warned you!”

“I - I…” Allura didn’t have the words. She bit her lip, shaken.

Keith was whispering words in Korean, his hands in Lance’s, trying to make him look at him, wiping at Lance’s tears with the hem of his cropped jacket. Allura caught a few words off the side.

“Ulji mal-ajuseyo. Jagiya, ulji ma.” He kissed Lance’s tear-streaked cheek and wrapped his arms around him.

Allura froze. Only speaking one language. Keith’s words were worthless when Lance didn’t know what they meant.

Lance’s eyes glowed a sharp, water blue through the darkness, fixed intently on Allura. He looked more angry than sad now. Suddenly, Allura felt a chill in her blood that had nothing to do with the cold castle.

“No tienes idea,” he spat. “¿Por qué me subestimas? Quiero que mires más allá de tus propias esperanzas por una vez.”

Only one language.

Oh, God.

She had never been more wrong about someone.

Pidge had gasped a little at Lance’s words, but Keith didn’t move. He kissed Lance, on the lips this time. Tears shuddered down his face.

Allura took off running, not wanting to see anyone. She knew Lance’s tears came from more than just pain, of not having anyone understand him. The way he looked at her… It was her fault. All her fault.

When she reached her own room, she cried almost as much as she had seen Lance doing.

-

Pidge sat at Lance’s side.

She hadn’t known something for sure. Guesses weren’t good enough. She cursed herself.

Not knowing something certainly - that was different. Pidge didn’t like different things.

-

“Where is he?”

Pidge looked wary about telling Allura… Anything… About Lance’s position. He looked pretty broken from their encounter from yesterday.

“In his room,” Pidge said eventually. “Keith is with him.”

Allura nodded mutely.

“This is your fault, you know,” she said accusingly.

Allura sighed. “I know. I’ve never been more wrong about something.”

Pidge turned her head to the blueprints on her lap, and didn’t say anything.

“I was wrong,” Allura repeated. “I didn’t listen to you. Not to Keith when he said that Lance needed more recognition. He nearly died for Coran… God, if Coran had died..” Her eyes drifted off into space, but she made them stoic and rigid again.

“I don’t know a thing about Lance,” said Allura. “I didn’t pay enough attention to him - not even so I knew he loved Keith and Keith loved him back, not so I knew he cried like that… I was wrong. You were right. He didn’t speak because he couldn’t. But when Keith and the others didn’t try, I didn’t care, and Lance could easily have been unable to speak as much as the others. But no, I was stupid. I thought he was flunking. I was wrong. You were right, he was bilingual. Spanish is his main language. Worst of all, he couldn’t tell me… But would I have listened?”

Pidge didn’t stop Allura, idly listening to her words whilst tapping on the electronics.

“I was wrong,” she repeated. “You were right. It’s always you who’s right.”

Pidge blinked. Then she smiled, cocky.

“Me, always right?” she asked. “Yeah, that’s not different. That’s not different at all.”

Imagine being in a relationship with Jensen for years and getting married in secret and him revealing it in an interview.

“Well, I really feel like I need to give you great congratulations for the movie once more. Nobody expected it to be such a blockbuster but we were pleasantly surprised, I’m sure it must have been for you too seeing as- it’s the first time you act on a movie together, am I right?” the interviewer asked and you nodded your head, glancing at your costar and… husband.

“Yeah, well I- I’ve been out of the big screen for some time now because I- because of Supernatural, and I love don’t get me wrong. It was my choice because I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, even if sometimes the shooting is exhausting it’s all worth it.” Jensen gave her a charming grin.

“I’ll agree, they’ve got like the best crew I’ve ever met. Everything works out so well and- and that’s even more surprising seeing how much they goof around I- at times I wonder how they get anything done there!” you laughed and Jensen chuckled, nodding his head with a shy smile.

“We’re all a bunch of kids, I’ll admit.” he mumbled as you rubbed his shoulder.

“But they really have the best of the best there. From director, writers, crew to cast, I think that’s what has made the show so successful so I don’t blame Jensen or anyone if they’d never want to leave that! They are really a family and- and you can feel that you know?” you made hand motions “You feel it from the first day and you feel so welcomed you just could as well stay there forever!”

“Speaking of which, though-” the interviewer spoke up with a smile “-Congratulations (Y/n)! I learned that you have been cast to play a surprise character in the show this upcoming season, is it right?”

“Uh yeah, yeah I have! It was amazing, the soonest I found out they wanted someone for a role I just went for it. I didn’t care what it was as long as I could be there even for one effin episode, it will be more than that yeah but still.” you nodded your head.

“Yeah, and I secretly believe that she was just cast to be there to take care of us. I mean “Two oscars?”-” he made a deep voice and a funny face “Screw that, she can keep Jensen and Jared under control; you’re hired!” he slammed his hand on the chair and you giggled as he laughed along with the interviewer.

“I can almost believe that to be honest.” she laughed “But to be honest, and just because we saw how people reacted to the news: Do you not think it has to do with the chemistry you two seemed to have in the movie? And-” she raised a finger “-Before you answer, let me tell you that 9 out of 10 critics pointed out how great your acting together was, as it’s obviously well known. The fans have not stopped shipping you like crazy after this movie, asking for as much as they can get of the two of you together in a screen, big or small.”

Jensen had a sly smirk on his face and you kicked his foot slightly, trying to keep a serious face on “Well-” he cleared his throat, getting a little serious himself, or at least trying to “-I mean look at her!” he showed you off with both his hands “How can someone not have chemistry with this woman?”

You giggled shaking your head with a blush “J!”

“We- we just clicked, from the first moment; I think that was it.” he said with a fond smile and you knew that even if she thought the first day of shooting you could understand he met that first time about ten years ago in a coffee shop “There was a connection, there was defintiely understanding, an unspoken agreement and-”

“Lots of spilled coffee.” you added with a giggle and he laughed next to you.

“Lots of spilled coffee too, yeah.” he had a boyish grin on his face.

“There was chemistry, yeah.” you spoke more softly “Maybe we didn’t see it from the first moment, but it was there. We don’t act like any other couple- screen couple I mean.” you hurried to add “You’d really be surprised to see us communicate, maybe freak out a little bit too.” you chuckled and Jensen did the same “But we- we work, that’s what we know and we’re glad that people could see it as well and that it helped the movie so much; in being believable and true I mean.”

“It really came out of nowhere for some, me including let me tell you. I might be fangirling a little now, but your ship is a really big thing and I know this Halloween what I am going to dress up with my boyfriend. With both the new season of Supernatural and a Sequel in the works the ship has sailed!” she said with a wide grin and you and Jensen laughed.

“You tell me!” he grinned “Wherever I go someone will talk about it and you know what? I completely understand!” he nodded his head.

“Of course you would.” you said with a small smirk and he gave you a look that just made you shift in your place uncomfortably.

“And you know-” he suddenly said, turning to look at the interviewer “I ship it too. Yeah, I ship us like you have no idea but I think I’m the number one fan here because this has been my ship for much longer than yours!”

“Really? That would be an interesting story to hear!”

“Oh you bet!” you exclaimed, remembering how much he tried everything in his power to get to you to say yes in a date with him.

“You know?” she raised an eyebrow and you nodded your head with a grin.

“I was drunk, that’s the only thing I have to say! I was drunk, for everything! Just getting it out there, before he says anything.”

“Excuse me?!” he gasped, looking at you in fake shock that made you and the other woman laugh “Ouch!” he placed a hand over his chest.

“You know what?” he looked at the interviewer “You think a woman loves you, you do everything together: Jump off cliffs, kill aliens, go through the end of the world and almost give your life for each other and that’s what she says: I was drunk. Pff” he scoffed, shaking his head “You end up getting married and after almost a year she tells me she was just drunk, can you believe that?” he asked, his voice almost squeaky as the woman stared with almost wide eyes between the two of you, her smile vanishing slowly as she got more shocked.

“Wh-what?”

“No, really. I even buy her flowers every chance I get- not just anniversaries but well, she was obviously drunk when she said yes.” he said with a clearly fake hurt face and you giggled as the interviewer gaped at you.

“You two are-” she ended up grinning as you nodded your head with a shy smile

“Ask the wife.” he said with a small pout as he rested his chin on his hand, his wedding ring more evident at that moment.

Marichat Day 14: Aged-Up Chat Noir

“Marinette, stay behind me,” Chat Noir warned, keeping one arm thrown back behind him in her direction.

Older Chat leaned against the balcony railing, arms crossed and an amused expression on his face. “This really isn’t necessary. I’m literally you.”

Marinette peeked around Chat Noir’s back to study the older man. “Why are you here?”

“To see you, of course, Princess,” he winked. Chat Noir growled and the older man laughed, waving a hand. “Paon is learning how to use his powers of time travel. I’m the guinea pig. Don’t worry, my Lady will have me back in her arms  within an hour or so.”

“How do you know?” Marinette bypassed Chat Noir’s outstretched arm to his exasperated huff. 

Older Chat smiled at her. “Because it’s already happened for me.” He tilted his head in his younger version’s direction. “I remember it.”

Chat Noir furrowed his brow. “Why come here though? Why visit Marinette?”

“She knows why.” Older Chat gave her a knowing look. 

Marinette’s eyes widened and she blushed. Chat Noir looked at her incredulously. “What does that mean?!”

She put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I think it’s okay. Do you mind if I talk to him alone?”

“What?!” he sputtered. “No. Absolutely not!”

“He’s you, kitty. There’s no one I trust more.” She cupped his cheek and smiled. “You can sit on my bed so you can still see us through the skylight.”

Chat Noir pushed out his bottom lip. “Fine, but I’m coming back up in five minutes no matter what.” He glared at his future self before dropping down through the skylight.

“I forgot how stubborn I could be,” Older Chat remarked, giving himself a finger wave.

“You know who I am,” Marinette said softly, stepping closer to him.

“You’re my Lady,” he whispered back. “I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to see you like this again.”

“Like this?”

“Softer.”

“I don’t understand,” she confessed.

“I wouldn’t expect you to. Just know it does me good to see you like this…to see you with him.”

“Do I tell you…him…” she shook her head. “Am I the one who tells Chat who I am first?”

Older Chat pursed his lips. “I really shouldn’t say anything. You warned me not mess anything up when I came back…”

“Can’t you give me one itty bitty hint, kitty?” she begged with a pleading smile.

Older Chat put a hand to his heart. “Low blow, my Lady. You know I can’t say no to you.”

“My Lady? D-did you just call her…” Marinette spun to see Chat Noir’s head poking out of the skylight. “Marinette?”

Marinette looked at Older Chat in terror. He winked. “You bast–”

A glowing blue light erupted from behind Older Chat, cutting off Marinette. “Come on, love. It’s time to come back home,” a familar voice said as a slender arm reached through the blue light. 

Older Chat kissed the hand reaching for him and turned back to the young pair. “See you in a few years, my Lady,” he said with a grin to Marinette. “Enjoy tonight, Adrien,” he finished with a wink before disappearing into the blue light.

Marinette spun on Chat Noir. “Adrien?!” 

You’re His Ex Girlfriend and You See His New Girlfriend Wearing Your T-Shirt: Part 2

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio


Growing up, people told Y/n that you could die from a broken heart—that the stress on your heart strings could weaken, and all that’s left is the pain in your chest.

Y/n thought her heart would fail her, rupture all that’s left of her and leave her body to decompose. She believed that, if her broken heart wasn’t going to kill her, loneliness and lack of sleep would push her towards her end.

Moving on—something that seemed so simple yet so impossible for Y/n to do.

When the hurt in her chest and the hallucinations from exhaustion started to become too much for her to handle, she was willing to do anything to help herself. She started taking up yoga sessions, started writing music, even started cooking in an attempt to bring herself back from whatever hell she was in.

She even considered moving on; meeting a man at a bar and getting to know more about him rather than his drink order. But something seemed so wrong about that—something was unsettled inside of her at the thought of being with someone who wasn’t Harry.

The image of Jessica in Harry and Y/n’s t-shirt was enough to haunt her nearly every hour of the day. She started going mental, constantly wondering what they were doing together in the moments she was most vulnerable. She wondered about their love life, their future, their interests. She thought about everything.

It wasn’t until Gabby was determined to mend the broken girl raiding her house, finding any possible excuse to give her a sense of life again, that Y/n found the slightest bit of hope.

Y/n was losing it, entirely, and Gabby refused to continue being a bystander.

Gabby had set Y/n up on a blind date only a couple weeks back, practically begging her to seize every opportunity she possibly can to get over Harry. It was all Gabby could do to help her, considering nothing quite helped Y/n’s well-being since the breakup.


“Oh, he’s just so perfect!” Gabby squealed, clapping her hands before gripping tightly around Y/n’s wrists in excitement. “He’s gorgeous! Amazing blue eyes—breathtaking, really! And he’s so sweet, Y/n! I haven’t met a single person who’s disliked him and he’s such an amazing photographer! And his teeth! His teeth are marvelous! Do you know how hard it is nowadays to find a man with nice teeth? I mean—“

By then, Y/n had dozed off, and it wasn’t for any personal reason against Gabby; she’s appreciated every bit of hard work to help her through the heartbreak Y/n’s been dealing with nearly half of a year now. It’s just that she wasn’t ready to move on, not that she didn’t want to.

It had been nearly five months, which may seem like such an abundance of time to rid feelings for somebody, but did time really help moving on from someone she’d planned to spend the rest of her life with? It seemed nearly impossible. She could barely see herself looking at other men in a romantic sense, how could she see herself going on a date with somebody? Especially when she was still in love with somebody else?

She was biting the bullet with letting time heal her, but she felt that was the only way. Nothing more could help her. If anything, she believed dating would make it worse, if she were being honest.

But the look of excitement Gabby had at the mere thought of Y/n being happy again was something Y/n found nearly impossible to resist. Besides, she had definitely been overstaying her welcome at Gabby’s house no matter how much Gabby’s tried to deny it and has put so much stress onto her that maybe, just maybe, doing this one favor for all that she’s done for her.

“So, what do you say?”

Y/n blinked harshly when Gabby’s voice drowned out all the scrambled thoughts in her head, shaking her head slightly to regain her understanding of reality.

“What?”

“Monmouth Coffee Shop at noon tomorrow. Dan really wants to meet you, Y/n! Please!”

Y/n’s eyes widened, snapping her head up to meet Gabby’s hopeful eyes.

“The Monmouth?! Are you crazy?! That’s Harry’s favorite coffee shop, you know that! Dan and Harry probably know each other, that’s how much he goes there!”

Gabby’s eyes narrowed as her lips pursed, gaze directing toward the ceiling in thought.

“Harry? Harry who? I don’t remember who that is, never heard that name in my life.”

Her tone reeked with sarcasm, which made Y/n’s eyes nearly roll to the back of her head. As much as she wished Gabby’s negative remarks about Harry were comedic, there was always something about them that infuriated her. She always supposed it was the instinctual aspect of loving someone so much.

Gabby sighed as she reached her hand up to rub Y/n’s shoulder gently.

“Look,” she began, “you’re my best friend and I hate seeing you like this. You’re not the same Y/n I always knew, and I think you see yourself that way, too. And in all honesty, I don’t give a fuck about Harry anymore. As sadistic and twisted as it sounds, I don’t care about his emotions, or how he feels. He did this to you. He killed a part of you and I feel it’s my obligation to help you through this. So, please, go out with Dan tomorrow. He works at Monmouth, he’ll meet you before his shift starts at 1:30.”

Gabby’s arm slid off of Y/n’s shoulder at the shadow of uncertainty behind her eyes. Even though Gabby understood all the pain and hesitation, she didn’t want to see Y/n suffer another day. She just couldn’t.

“Please,” she whimpered, “Dan has been the only sense of hope I’ve gotten to make you happy again. Just do this one thing, please? And if it doesn’t work, then you can blame me. I’m just trying here.”

Y/n coughed slightly, her inability to say no wearing off of her at Gabby’s desperate pleads. It was an opportunity to turn things back around in her life, and if it didn’t go as planned, she really didn’t have anything more to lose.

She nods her head softly.

“Yeah—yeah, okay. I’ll meet him.”

Maybe this would be good for her.


Dan is lovely, always caring for Y/n and making sure she feels like loyalty whenever she’s around. He puts her first, in everything, and made a rule that the date can’t end until I hear you laugh at least six times.

It’s cute, really, how effortless he is at giving someone so much attention. Y/n likes it—loves it, even, but it still never feels right to her. She sees something with him, but nothing long term, not in the way she sees Harry.

But he’s good for her now, when she’s at her worst and needs someone to be there for her. He’s able to provide her with the company she desperately needs in order to cure the possible fatalities that came with her broken heart.

“Thank you for the coffee, it was great.” Y/n smiles softly, her cheeks blushing slightly as she traces the rim of her coffee cup.

It’s nearly their tenth date, and they still meet at the Monmouth at noon before his shift. It’s become a routine for them, meeting together at noon before Dan drops her off at the parking station. It became something they both looked forward to throughout their week, and soon became more of a tradition between them.

Dan grins, almost instinctively wrapping his arms around Y/n’s shoulders so that her head makes rest on his chest. He sighs, pressing a small kiss to the top of her head before resting his chin where his lips once were.

“Of course. I’ll be getting out at around 6 o‘clock so maybe I can stop by for a few? Maybe watch a movie?”

He knows the answer before she says it—his constant attempts to get closer to her always seeming to fail. There’s always a hesitation, or always an excuse to prevent them from being alone together.

He’s well aware that there are parts of her that need to be fixed, still being completely destructed by her ex-lover. He’s tried tirelessly to get her to open up and to trust him, but there’s a thick barrier still in their way of each other. It disheartens him, to know she refuses to let him in.

She sighs, guilt evident in her breath as she softly pushes away from him.

She does that often, he’s noticed it.

She feels horrible for doing so every time. Everything between them has remained stagnant, nothing being built so that nothing could be knocked down. It’s not that Y/n doesn’t trust him, it’s that Y/n doesn’t trust herself. She’s still in love with someone else, and she can’t hurt Dan—not in that way.

“I think I’m just going to—“

“Yeah, I know.” Dan nods, arms moving to cross at his chest, “I get it. Just like every other time.”

Y/n reaches her shaking fingers to brush her hair behind her ear, guilt flashing in her eyes as she refuses to meet his gaze. She’s familiar with the look he has on his face well enough to know he’s upset again, being constantly shut down by her.

“I’m so sorry, Dan.” She whispers, “But I’m trying. I want to keep trying with you. If you let me.”

He looks unconvinced, as he’s been hearing this for a while now. But something inside of him can’t quit her, no matter how much his intuition tells him she’s a dead end. Maybe he feels sorry for her on a level he’s never felt sorrow for somebody else. No matter how much she hides it, she really does need him. Not in a romantic level, but she does need him to show her that he cares for her and that he’ll always be there. She needs that sense of security, and he’s the only one that can provide it for her.

“Yeah,” he nods, “we can keep trying. It’s okay, I’m here for you.“


Harry had been living in his studio for the past couple of weeks. It certainly wasn’t ideal, but it was much better than sleeping on his and Y/n’s bed—alone.

That’s all he’s felt since their break up—lonely. It’s quite strange, considering Harry had millions of supporters, an entire band throughout his solo career, and producers around him nearly every hour of the day. He used to complain that he never had alone time anymore, that between all the constant traveling and being at the peak of his career, it was hard to find time for himself.

But now, in the midst of everything happening in his life, he wishes to feel that sort of hustle again.

Y/n was the person that kept him grounded through everything. She was the one consistency in his life, which gave him all the more reasons to love her. Whenever he was overwhelmed with the pressure put on him, or feeling homesick during his travels, she was always the one to keep him at bay and give him a sense of clarity.

Home hadn’t become a house, instead, Y/n’s heart. Wherever she was, he felt at home. Even when she was half way across the world, it was her voice that brought him back and reminded him that, no matter how much he missed the walls of familiarity, home was always a phone call away. She gave him that sense of comfort everywhere she went, it was truly amazing.

And when he broke up with Y/n, he didn’t think of how much everything around him would be affected. He thought time would do them best—would help mend the relationship that seemed to be collapsing beneath their feet. Their connections were lost, replaces by uncomfortable silences and unbarring arguments.

He didn’t think of the consequences when he did it. He didn’t think about how lost he’d become, or how he had no place to call home, or how there was no consistency in his life anymore. There were so many aspects of his life that Y/n had given him—so much of them that he didn’t realize until she moved out.

It was the exact reason he started dating Jessica. She was a great distraction, a beautiful woman to take his mind off of everything.

They weren’t much of anything. Nothing about them was exclusive besides what the media saw of them: boyfriend and girlfriend moving in together in London. It was far from the truth, really. He was with her to terminate his dry spell and rid his loneliness, and she was with him because he infatuated her.

He ended it all, though, that same morning Y/n found Jessica wearing their shirt. The entire incident gave him a realization; that nobody could fill his void like Y/n did.

The fear of losing her forever and making her believe he was in love with somebody else was enough to break him out of his selfish ways. She had been waiting for him for months, and when he returned, he wasn’t the same man he was.

Not only did Harry know that Y/n lost all her faith in him—he lost all faith in himself, as well.


“I’m so screwed, Nick. I fucked up everything. Everything.”

Harry was laying with his back flat against the studio couch, hands rubbing down his face as he tried to steady his harsh breathing.

It was just after he had run into Y/n at the grocery store, where she had seen Jessica wearing Harry and Y/n’s t-shirt. Although he was practically mute during the encounter, everything hit him at once after Y/n and Gabby walked out.

He called Nick in a hurry, incoherent and completely disoriented from the tears he’d broken down into. Everything he thought would be mended completely fell down on them—all because of him.

“Jessica was wearing the shirt with the—fuck, you know the shirt, and Y/n saw and she was such a mess, Nick. I didn’t even say anything to her, she was practically begging me to say something and I didn’t say a word.”

Nick sat cross-armed on one of the chairs, directly across from Harry. He wished he could have felt remorse seeing Harry in such distress, however, he never agreed with Harry’s actions and made it clear numerous times. In his eyes, this was karma’s ticking time bomb.

“You tend to be a real jackass sometimes, you know that?”

Harry lifted himself up so that he could sit properly. His body slumped against the back of the couch, head rested in his palm as he coughed uncomfortably at Nick’s choice of words.

“You let go of the best thing that’s ever happened to you and then you just move on, as if she meant nothing, and you think you just fucked it all up now? Over the goddamn t-shirt?”

Harry scowled at him.

“I haven’t moved on, and it’s more than just a t-shirt, you know that. That was ours.” Harry defended, glaring over at his direction.

“So why was Jessica wearing it after you fucked her on the bed you and Y/n shared every night for the past three years?”

Something about Nick’s words gave Harry a foul taste in his mouth. As much as he wished Nick didn’t say it in that way, that’s exactly what Harry did, and knowing he had to live with that for the rest of his life made his stomach flip inside of him.

He really did fuck it up. Nothing he did was excusable, nothing he did was forgivable. He betrayed the one woman he loved so dearly—the one woman he’d always consider his soulmate. He really, really fucked it up.

He gulped as he tried to find words to justify himself. There was really nothing he could say.

“She—she had just put it on while I was sleeping and when—when I noticed she just wouldn’t shut up about breakfast and I couldn’t just be like ‘Hey, Jess, could you take off that shirt? That belonged to me and my ex-girlfriend and I don’t appreciate it?’ How could I do that?”

He sighed, leaning his face into the palm of his hands as he looked back onto his experiences with Jessica. Was it all worth it? Was she really worth all of this?

“She means nothing to me, Nick. I lost the girl I love for somebody who doesn’t mean anything to me.” He whispered, “How do I live knowing that?”


It’s nearly two in the afternoon when Harry finally decides to leave his studio. He’s been working on some songs he found himself writing during his free time, something he found therapeutic throughout the past couple of months.

Recording and writing have become the only distractions that seem to work for Harry. Everything else became temporary. Writing out his emotions and singing the words he wishes he could say has been the only sense of closure he’s had in a while.

“Dan! Long time no see!” Harry smiles when he enters Monmouth, a familiar face being something he finds so relieving.

Dan looks up from his register, reaching over the counter to give Harry a hug as he greets him enthusiastically.

“Haven’t seen you in quite a while. On your lunch break?”

Harry nods as his eyes squint, reaching for the back of his neck as he reads over the menu.

“Yeah, kind of in a hurry today if you don’t mind. Can I just get a medium coffee with almond milk, please? And a slice of apple pie, feeling kind of brisk today.”

Dan works his fingers across the cash register, yelling out his order to the barista before making small talk about the weather. Considering Harry hasn’t been seen in Monmouth nearly as much as he used to, they both found it nice to catch up with each other for the short while they’ve been distanced.

When Dan reaches over to give Harry his spare change, an all too familiar silver ring catches his attention immediately. At first glance, he swears his heart stopped beating.

There’s no way, there’s just no way that could be the ring Harry gave to Y/n. Dan and Y/n have never met before, considering she had only visited here a handful of times during Harry’s lunch break. And even then, she would just stand patiently by the door while Harry waited to retrieve his order.

There’s just no way, but the top of the rose has a particular rust on it that resembles Harry’s perfectly—and no matter how long it’s been since he’s seen it, he’ll never forget what it looks like.

Harry’s hand grips onto Dan’s wrist instead of reaching out to grab the spare change laying upon his palm, flipping over his hand to inspect the silver ring snug almost too perfectly around his finger. He’s aggressive, movements harsh and face tight with anger, but at this point in time, the last thing Harry’s worried about is Dan’s slightly intimidated composure.

“Where did you get this?”

Unlike his demeanor, his voice is soft and breaking between each word. There’s an unrecognizable shift in his eyes when he sees the wear and tear Harry knows he caused before gifting it to Y/n. This is most definitely his, and knowing Y/n was the one who gave it to him makes him nearly throw up all the contents in his stomach.

“Girlfriend gave it to me,” Dan smiles “well, not really my girlfriend yet. But you know how they are. I told her I liked it and she insisted I have it.”

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, making him nearly whimper when he opens his mouth to speak.

He’s never felt so much pain before. The breaking that was once only in his heart spread like wildfire across every bone and ligament in his body. It burns, the sudden realization that Y/n has a boyfriend, that Y/n is no longer going to be there—waiting for him—the way he always expected her to be, that Y/n has taken it upon herself to seek revenge on him so that he can feel everything she felt that one Sunday morning at the grocery store.

And it’s then he realizes that this is nothing compared to everything he’s put her through. In his favor, this is just a stupid ring her gave her for her birthday because he loved the way she twisted it around his finger. It didn’t have much value between them, just something small they shared. He couldn’t imagine the hurt he would have now, standing her, if Dan were wearing their Lover t-shirt.

“Wh—What’s her name?”

His voice is in a whisper now, only the slightest bit of hope draining from his body when he hears Dan speak again.

“Y/n. She’s a good girl, you’d like her.”

Harry almost laughs. You’d like her. He has no idea, he’s in love with her.

It’s as if every part of Harry’s body begins to shut down. Maybe it’s from the shock, or the overbearing pain he feels in his chest, but he suddenly begins to feel lightheaded. His muscles turn numb and all his orientation seems to scramble as if he’s intoxicated.

Dan’s eyes narrow when he sees all the color drain from his face, his eyes widened and soaked with tears. He watches as he nearly falls backward, only to balance himself with his foot when he takes a proper step away from the counter.

“Harry? Harry, you alright?”

Never fucking say my name again is the first proper thought that his brain can register. But his throat is tight and his tongue is numb. He attempts to take a breath of air, but he feels like his lungs are collapsing in his chest, preventing him from doing anything besides stumble uncoordinatedly out of the Monmouth doors.

He’s falling apart—that’s exactly what it feels like. He feels like every limb is falling from his body as he walks towards his car. He doesn’t know exactly how he’s moving, even if he’s stumbling on his own two feet and colliding into stranger’s bodies as he does so, he doesn’t understand how his body finds the strength to keep moving.

Y/n moved on. Y/n’s dating Dan. Y/n gave his ring to him. It’s all over, everything is over.

“No” he mumbles frantically, jealously flowing in his veins, chest heaving from the sobs that are threatening to spill out of him, “no, no no no.”

He starts to wonder where he’s missed it, and exactly how long it’s been since Y/n moved on. She was so broken at the grocery store the other week; what could have possibly altered her feelings that quickly? Did Dan really impact her that much?

But that’s his girl. Y/n is his girl, she’s the one he was so sure he was going to spend the rest of his life with. Even with Jessica, even with everything that’s happened, Y/n is his soulmate, and there isn’t anything in the world that can convince him otherwise.

Nobody is going to take her from him. He refuses to believe she belongs to somebody that isn’t him; there isn’t an atom in his body that doubts their companionship.

Before he thinks twice—before he really gives himself a chance to stop himself—Harry slides his cell phone out of his back pocket once he reaches his car. He slumps against the hood as his fingers work furiously across his screen.

There has to be something, at least some sort of proof that this is really happening to him, that this isn’t in a nightmare he can easily wake himself out of. There had to have been a hint, a warning for him to have. She would have never moved on without saying something to him. They were so strong together, she would have never left without closure.

Nothing about it makes sense.

And then, he sees it.

He falls to his knees, hitting the concrete harshly below him. His body gave out from beneath him, his muscles and bones failing him.

It’s there, right in front of him, mocking him and all the shitty decisions he’s made. It’s there—on Y/n’s private Instagram page—a picture of Dan holding Y/n’s hand on top of a table in Monmouth, Harry’s ring wrapped perfectly around his pointer finger.

Steele rose has never looked so good xx.

i’ve seen some people saying that jongin had no choice with his hairstyle but yesterday irene literally said she chose to not dye her hair cuz she was afraid it was too damaged, and joy asked to have her hair red, something like wendy had before… and if red velvet had voice in how they wanted their hair for this comeback, probably jongin also did

From The Dining Table

13 Hours Later.

When she woke up, she was still alone.

Initially, she’d forgotten all about the night before. The first thing she noticed was the strange buzzing sound of the thermostat in the corner, which was obviously not working at all because the room was freezing. The chilly air nipped at her cheeks, and she snuggled further into the mattress as she tucked her head into the comforter with a soft whimper, trying to ignore the buzzing in her head.

Her eyes were still stinging from her tears the night before mixed with the lack of sleep. She’d managed to finally drift off at around four in the morning, but she couldn’t tell by the window whether it was eight in the morning or two in the afternoon.

Their screams from the night before still echoed in the walls.

She slid the covers off of her head and opened her eyes slowly, staring at the pale yellow motel ceiling. It was the color of Easter yellow, she’d decided, and it reminded her of chocolate and gardens and everything happy. It reminded her of some distant life where she probably would have done something to be proud of.

The ache in her chest resonated throughout her entire body, and her head was pounding to the rhythm of her heart—it was the only way she could be sure it was still beating.

She felt like someone had torn it out of her chest.

She turned onto her side and looked at the space in the bed beside her, clutching onto the soft material of the comforter until her knuckles turned white. Waking up on her own wasn’t new to her—she’d done it time and time again in the past two years, so much that she’d become numb to the loneliness that came with it. But this time was different…

This time, she knew he wasn’t coming back.

She suddenly felt a tear roll down her face, and just like that, she couldn’t get him out of her head.

He was everywhere.

Keep reading

miraculance  asked:

Hey, happy birthday! :) How about a drabble based on that prompt that went around once, about lance's feelings being enhanced by some space flower and he spends a day or two mooning over keith with keith thinking it's just a temporary thing? I hope you had a great day!

i’ve never seen this prompt so it might not be exactly right but here you go! 

“He’s gonna be fine,” Pidge reassures Keith for the hundredth time, but Keith isn’t sure he believes her. “Stop asking if you’re not gonna believe me,” she adds, which makes him squint suspiciously at her. “I’m not reading your mind, you’re just obvious. So is the reason you’re asking me about this over and over.” 

“I’m just – Lance is a paladin, we need him to be functional to be a team,” Keith says, crossing his arms. He glances across the room where Coran is talking to Lance, still surprised when he meets Lance’s eyes despite the fact that Lance has been staring at him since they got back to the castle. Lance doesn’t blink, doesn’t even look embarrassed to be caught staring – he just grins brightly at Keith and waves a little. Keith flushes hot and then glares at Pidge when she laughs. “He’s not okay, Pidge, look at him.” 

“Looks normal to me,” Pidge mutters. Keith shoots her a look and she sighs. “It was just some weird space plant that messed with his neurotransmitters. It’s not dangerous, it’ll work through his system in a day or so. Coran isn’t worried, you shouldn’t be either.” 

But Keith does worry, especially when Lance sits close to him in the common area later and says, “Hey.” His voice is low, and it strokes down Keith’s spine like a fingertip. He shivers a little, but looks up at Lance despite himself. 

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” Lance says dismissively. “I wanted to spend time with you.” He ducks his head and peers at Keith. “You know, you’ve got really pretty eyes.” 

“I – what?” Keith stammers, feeling his face heat up.

“You’re really cute,” Lance says, smiling. It’s not a smirk, not the way it usually is when Lance flirts with people. He looks like he’s saying something as if it were a well-known fact, a given. “You worrying about me is especially cute.” 

“I–” Keith says, at a loss for words. “I – this is just that plant thing talking–” 

“Plant thing? I was talking about you, Keith,” Lance says, brow furrowing. “Are you feeling okay?” He scoots closer and puts a hand against Keith’s forehead. Keith can feel his ears burning. “You’re warm,” Lance murmurs. 

“I’ve got to – I have to go now,” Keith says loudly. He stands up, and ignores the vaguely hurt pout Lance sends his way, and barricades himself in his room for the rest of the night. You have pretty eyes echoes over and over in his head throughout the rest of the night.

The next morning, Lance doesn’t show up to breakfast. After a while, Hunk begs for Keith to take him something to eat in case he started feeling ill. When Keith protests, saying someone else should go, Pidge says, “You were the one worrying about him.” 

So Keith knocks on Lance’s door with a bowl of good in one hand, and it stays closed for a disconcertingly long time, until eventually it whooshes open. Lance takes one look at him and turns scarlet. 

“Oh god,” he says, sounding terrified. 

“Um,” Keith says, because this is the exact opposite reaction he was expecting. 

“Oh my god,” Lance repeats. He covers his face with his hands and sighs. “Of course. Okay, yeah, might as well.” He takes the bowl of goo from Keith and sets it on a table near the door. He faces Keith again and looks him dead in the eye. “I’m sorry about last night.” 

Keith’s stomach sinks, any lingering hope that maybe it hadn’t been the plant dissipating immediately. “Right,” he says quietly. “Of course.” 

“It was really inappropriate,” Lance continues, looking pained. “We’re – you and I are partners, and friends, and that stupid plant just made me say things that I’ve been – I didn’t want you to find out like that, and I’m sorry–”

“Wait,” Keith says, frowning. “Find out – what do you mean?”

“That plant thing made me say whatever was on my mind,” Lance says. “Like, not a truth serum thing but just – my inhibitions were lowered. Didn’t – didn’t Pidge explain it to you?” 

“No,” Keith says, but he really had been paying more attention to Lance than Pidge, to be fair. 

“Oh my god,” Lance groans, running a hand through his hair. “I could have just – you didn’t know. But now you know. God, I look like such an idiot–” 

He looks so miserable that Keith can’t help but reach out, touching his arm gently. Lance goes completely still and looks at him, wide-eyed. “Uh,” Keith says, heart beating out of his chest. “It’s, um, cute. You – worrying. About me.” It’s not nearly as smooth as Lance had been, but Keith doesn’t have the advantage of being loose-lipped because of some weird space plant. 

Lance gapes at him, but only for a moment – after a second of comprehension, a smile starts at the corners of his mouth and curls in. He’s still flushed, but he looks more like the Lance Keith is used to. “Well,” Lance says, leaning against his door. “What else do I look cute doing?” 

“Ugh,” Keith says, but he’s grinning too. 

Flirt (Two)

intro one two three
genre:
fuckboy!jungkook, college!au, smut?, angst?
words: 3.5k
member: jungkook  (ft. taehyung)

despising jeon jungkook as he hooks up and steals your best friend away from you.

(credits to gif owner for the gif that kills all)

Originally posted by bangtanofarmys

Keep reading

A Lesson in Love (The Reunion)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3,837

A/N: This is the second to last part in the series, babes. We’re almost done with this journey. 

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - you truly are the best of the best when it comes to editing (and everything else too)

Originally posted by captaincentenarian

You’ve walked the length of this hallway more than a dozen times before. Hundreds, if you count the amount of times you’ve strolled through the hallway in your apartment, one that is a spitting image of the one you’re standing in now. Your familiarity with the small space should make the journey from where you’re standing to where you need to be easy.

Should.

Every time you’ve made this walk, it was never with the knowledge that what’s waiting for you at your final destination had the potential to change everything.

Keep reading

prompt: “oh my god! you’re in love with him!” “have you lost your fucking mind?” “did i enter an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?” “i’ve seen the way you look at me when you think i don’t notice” + “come over here and make me”

pairing: bucky x reader

word count: 1.7k+

prompt list: click here

warnings: minor swearing, confrontation

a/n: this is cute + my requests are open

“So, are you gonna tell him or should I do the deed?”

The sound of Steve’s voice snapped Y/N back to reality. She hastily tore her gaze away from the screen of her laptop, allowing it travel across the room to where the blonde super soldier was attempting to clean his shield, not even looking at her.

They were the only people in the room so he couldn’t have been talking to anyone else. Despite this, Steve’s eyes were elsewhere and his tone was so nonchalant Y/N could almost pretend she didn’t know what he meant. But she did.

She cleared her throat, lifting her laptop from her lap and pulling her legs underneath her. She balanced the device on the arm rest instead and attempted to act as though she had no clue what Steve was talking about.

“Tell who, what?” She murmured, pretending her focus was solely on the screen of her laptop even though she could already feel her heart speeding up. 

“You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

Y/N watched from the corner of her eye as Steve examined the now clean shield and propped it against the side of the sofa. He proceeded to throw his arm over the many cushions piled next to him and finally looked towards her.

When Y/N didn’t answer, Steve narrowed his eyes in nothing but annoyance. Y/N was being so damn stubborn it was slowly driving him insane.

“You’ve been avoiding him for weeks, Y/N. Every time he enters the room, you turn tomato red and make up some lame excuse about how you have to go. It’s getting kind of tiring,” Steve argued and Y/N sighed. Steve had been pestering her about her crush on Bucky for at least a month now; ever since she drunkedly told him about her feelings, he’s been urging her to confess to Bucky. The only problem was, Y/N didn’t exactly feel like making the first move. So, until the time Bucky would maybe develop a crush on her; or maybe until the time Y/N finally gained some courage, she’d stay away from him and try to repress her annoying feelings. It was a good plan and so far she’d been pretty successful at sticking to it.

“I mean, come on,” Steve continued. “He came to my room a few nights ago to ask if you were alright. He even considered the option of you being mad at him, but then he realised there was nothing he had done wrong.”

Y/N huffed in annoyance. “Just drop it, Steve.”

“I’m not gonna drop it until you finally tell him.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, cocked one brow and looked at her expectantly. 

In response, Y/N shut her laptop closed and stared back at him venomously. 

“What the hell do you expect me to say to him, huh? It’s not that simple if you haven’t noticed.”

Oh my god! You’re in love with him, Y/N! It’s pretty fucking simple. You say three words, you kiss him, and it’s done. Dusted.”

Y/N was up on her feet in under a second.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Before Steve could register what was happening, Y/N was tackling him on the sofa and clamping her hand over his mouth. Steve was mumbling something about watching her language into her palm and trying to fight her off, but Y/N had him pinned down. She wouldn’t have done it if it weren’t for the sound of footsteps coming from down the hall and she wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of the whole team knowing about her silly little crush.

“Who’s out of their mind?” 

She rolled off of Steve and pretended nothing had happened. Bruce was now in the room, and behind him was Nat and Buck. They had clearly just returned from the city; bags of purchases in their hands and Nat was explaining something to Bucky until Bruce had interrupted.

“Steve, but that’s not news to anyone,” Y/N rolled her eyes and Steve scoffed behind her. He pushed himself up and sent Y/N a warning look before walking over to Bruce.

“What did you guys do?”

He curled his finger around the top of one of the bags Bruce had set down on the chaise lounge and glanced inside. Y/N looked towards Bucky.

“A lot, lot of shopping,” Bruce answered. “We’ve been so busy lately we completely forgot to prepare for our vacation next week.”

Steve nodded in understanding. 

“There’s still a bunch of bags in the trunk. Wanna help me out?” The blonde soldier nodded and followed Bruce towards the exit.

“I’ll take my bags to my room and I’ll be right down!” Nat called after them. She gave Y/N a small smile, turned on her heel and headed in the opposite direction.

It was just Y/N and Bucky.

A moment of awkward silence ensued.

“So, what did Steve do?” Bucky asked after a while, toying with the set of keys in his hands. He was wearing jeans and a sweater, no shoes. He probably ran into Bruce and Nat in the hallway upon their return because there was no sign of shopping bags in his hands and he honestly looked like he had just woken up from a nap.

“Steve’s just… being his annoying self,” she answered with a shrug of her shoulders. Y/N slowly pushed herself up from the sofa, walked back to her previous spot and picked up her laptop. She was just about to head back to her room when Bucky’s voice stopped her.

“You’re leaving already?”

She swallowed loudly. “I guess so.”

“Come on, Y/N,” Bucky looked at her pleadingly. “We haven’t hung out in what feels like forever. You’ve been avoiding me for weeks and we haven’t spoken for longer than a minute in, what, two months?”

“I’ve just been… busy.”

Sure,” he responded, and Y/N could tell he didn’t believe her. It wasn’t a surprise. Her lie wasn’t in the least bit convincing.  

“I miss you, you know?” He told her in a voice so soft it made her insides hurt. “I miss you coming into my room at midnight to talk and just, like, watching movies and stuff. Steve hates slasher films and you know I don’t like watching them alone.”

Y/N felt the corner of her lips curling up into an amused little grin. Steve really did hate slasher movies and every time he’d walk in on Y/N and Buck watching one, he’d groan and leave the room as fast as he had entered it. 

“There we go,” Bucky chuckled. “Did I enter an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

Y/N hugged the laptop to her chest and rolled her eyes playfully.

“Oh, shut up,” she laughed, and Bucky did, too. “I don’t know, Buck. I don’t really have time for anyone lately. I’m all over the place.”

Buck’s brows knitted together and he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. 

“Really?” He asked. “Because it seems to me you have plenty of time for everyone, just not me.”

Y/N released a nervous little sigh. “It’s… complicated.”

She watched as Bucky threw the keys Nat had previously handed him onto the shelf and walked around the sofa to collapse onto it. Y/N didn’t say anything and neither did Bucky for a while. Not until she turned to leave again.

“You know, I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

Y/N stopped dead in her tracks and turned her head to look at Bucky over her shoulder. He was already staring back at her, his arms draped over the back of the sofa on either side of him, and a satisfied grin across his lips. He had her full attention and he was more than happy with that.

A second passed before Y/N turned around to face him fully. She was doing everything in her power to keep her expression neutral.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” she muttered, but she was clearly avoiding his gaze, her eyes glued to the shopping bags scattered across the floor.

“I think you do,” Bucky smirked knowingly and Y/N almost gulped. Damn, maybe she wasn’t as good at this whole repressing and hiding thing as she had initially thought. Maybe it was time to come up with a different strategy.

“You like me,” the brunette stated matter-of-factly and Y/N tried to look shocked at his assumption, she really did, but some time between Buck chuckling and her trying to gasp, failing, and ending up coughing, she only ended up looking silly. 

“No, I don’t,” she lied pathetically and Bucky laughed again. It wasn’t a mocking sort of laughter; more of a “I can’t believe how bad you are at lying” sort of laughter and Y/N felt like she had been punched in the gut.

“Yes, you do. Steve confirmed this for me, and now I know he was right.”

Y/N pretended to look annoyed. “Steve is an idiot.”

“Damn right, he is. But you like me,” he argued, and Y/N wanted to groan out loud. Her cheeks were burning red and she wanted to hide in a dark room somewhere where no one could find her.

“Shut up,” she told him, trying her best to be serious, but her pink cheeks had Bucky laughing even more. He thought she was cute, and even though Y/N tried to seem tough, with Bucky it wasn’t all that easy.

“I won’t,” Bucky challenged. “I won’t unless you come over here and make me.”

Y/N stood her ground. “I’m not coming anywhere near you because you’re a fucking imbecile.”

“An imbecile, you say? Is that what you should call the guy you’re in love with?” His left brow was cocked and the amused grin across his face was so infuriating Y/N wanted nothing more than to wipe it off of that smug little face of his. But she remained quiet and after a while Bucky stood up again. He walked towards her, and sent her a cheeky little smile.

He was just about to walk past her and leave when her voice stopped him.

“You’re not gonna let me live this down, are you?”

Bucky laughed, and the sound was both endearing and irritating at the same time.

“Not until you find the courage to ask me out on a date,” he answered casually, his left eye dropping into a teasing wink. “I’ll be in my room when you do.”


@arielsimaginess@wellthatsrandomkek@brittany1248@gabbievl@forestxpertise@aya-fay@geekynation@smithaslan@all-of-the-little-infinites@sweetheartmyass@ishasal@jenma-simmons@interstellarhoodlum@hellkat2@bowtiesandapplepie@donttouchmeormypizza@somethingwitty-somethingsweet@kaijasimagines@thecityandcoffee@debbielovesbucky@marrsox@r3stl3ss-minds@sleeping-with-the-snakes@woahfairytail@marvelgirl2118@lipkitharry@unevenpages@radxxregs@avisgranger@cutsieunicorn@fvckingfandomsandshit@nerdygirlykittykat@broken-fairy-wingss @forever-1a @akanthaonarose @vanilllakitty@cupcaitlyn96 @psingh97 @gothamroques

theragingthespian  asked:

if you're feeling it pal, supercorp and dancing. but tbh, i'll read anything you're up to writing

She realized she was in trouble sometime between Alex telling her that she had proposed to Maggie and the moment she helped with sending out the invitations—and by help she meant that she saved Alex and Maggie a small fortune on postage by delivering the invitations herself.

Or perhaps she realized she was in trouble when Alex sat her down one afternoon—many, many months after the Daxamite invasion—and told her that she needed help choosing a song to dance to.

(“Can it be ‘N Sync?” Kara had asked, laughing when Alex didn’t even acknowledge her question.

“Maggie got all the fun jobs,” she’d muttered petulantly. “Choosing venue and catering is easy but everyone’s going to judge the first song we dance to.”

“I’ll judge if the food isn’t good,” Kara had tried helpfully. Alex didn’t deign to dignify that with a response.)

Though really, she realized she was in trouble when Winn helpfully pointed out that Kara couldn’t dance.

Keep reading

Chemistry || Peter Parker Imagine

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Request: (i got you fam) @tom-holla Hey!!! Can I request a peter park x reader where reader has a major crush on peter and they turn out to be lab partners and she like can’t get two words out when talking to him bc she’s so nervous and he starts teasing her about it all cute and asking why she’s so nervous and if she likes him and she ends up admitting it and stuff? FLUFF! Thank u sm!

Word Count: 1090

A/N: This had great potential to be good, but the ending kinda sucks, and so does the rest of it 

Originally posted by sincerelysaraahh


Midtown High. For most students, high school is the worst place on Earth. But Midtown was the only place Y/N could see her muse, Peter Parker. He was just such a good person, which made her like him so much more than she already did.

Y/N wasn’t really friends with Peter. They were just acquaintances due to having so many classes together since middle school. Most of the time, she avoided him at all costs because she felt so awkward around him. She has talked to the brown haired boy before, but she couldn’t even mutter a proper sentence to him.

Y/N and Peter both had Chemistry class together. It was one of her favorite classes because she could watch him ,first hand, being the smart kid everyone knew him as.

She walked into the class which only held few students in it so far. She quickly took out her supplies for the class. Y/N looked at the door, and saw Peter walk in. His lab seat was across the aisle from hers, next to his friend Ned. She looked down at the table, suddenly interested in the graffiti done by other kids at the school.

Peter put his backpack on his lap to take out his Chemistry books. He looked over and saw Y/N tracing something on the table. He smiled, “Hey, Y/N.” She shot her head up to look at him, kind of stunned. “H-hey P-Peter,” she stuttered out. She smiled back but quickly shifted her gaze back down to the table, with her shoulders hunched. Why am I so awkward around him?

The tardy bell soon rang as everyone got situated in their seats. Everyone in the class gave their attention to the teacher, indicating her to get started.

“Alright, everyone. For the next couple of weeks we will be doing a series of labs where you will need a partner,” Y/N’s classmates started to look around to find their friends as partners, “But, I gave you all partners so that I know you guys are actually doing your work.” Some of the teenagers groaned. The teacher sighed, expecting their responses.

“So I made a list of who everyone is working with. Once you find your partner, go to one of your lab tables and start the procedures that I left. The materials needed are also on the tables. If you need anything or have any questions just come to me.” She said with a smile, displaying the pairs on the projector. Y/N looked for her name, having trouble since everyone was standing in her way to find their partners. Y/N’s lab partner sitting next to her stood up and moved away, distracting her a bit more. Before she could find her name on the list, Peter walked up to her. “I think we’re partners.” He said, taking the seat next to her.

Y/N looked up at the board, the sea of people finally cleared, and saw her name next to Peter Parker’s. “Oh.” She said, not looking up at him. Peter grabbed the list of procedures and placed it between the two. “You don’t talk much, do you?” He stated as he opened his notebook to write down everything. Y/N mimicked his actions, swallowing hard from embarrassment. She couldn’t exactly say that she had a huge crush on him, making her feel awkward around him. Before she could make up an excuse, Peter looked up from his paper, glancing at her. “Or I just make you nervous?” He asked with a smirk, making a rosy blush appear on her cheeks.

Y/N shook her head, “N-No it’s j-just,” Y/N sighed and muttered, “I-I don’t know.”

Peter chuckled, “So I do make you nervous.” He stated. Peter was never this confident while talking to a girl. But Y/N’s attitude was so adorable to him. She groaned, “N-No, you d-don’t.“ 

Peter went back to writing on his paper. “Your voice is saying otherwise darling’.” He beamed. Y/N just didn’t respond, to save herself some dignity. She continued to copy what was on the paper, without getting distracted by her crush.


The rest of the class period went on, Peter still poking fun at her. But he couldn’t let go of that cute stutter she had. “So, what is it then? Why you can’t talk to me?” Peter pushed, not looking away from his notes. Y/N blushed, “I-I don’t kn-know.”

“Well, I think you like me.” He said smirking once again, dropping his pencil when the bell suddenly rang, ending this class. Students were rushing to put their stuff away to get to their next class. Y/N sat there frozen as she watched Peter stand up and put his notebook into his backpack. “No, P-Peter. It isn’t l-like that.” Y/N stammered, moving to put away her supplies as well.

Peter turned to look at her, “Well, that sucks.” What. Why would that suck? Did he like her too? “W-Why?” Y/N questioned following the boy out of class.

It’s now or never, Peter thought. He shrugged his shoulders, playing with the straps to his bag, not making eye contact with her. “I was kinda hoping you had a crush on me. I thought we had…. Chemistry.” He said, emphasizing the word Chemistry.

The joke made Y/N chuckle. Music to his ears. He didn’t hear the shy girl laugh often so he wanted to treasure this moment. It means that she was getting more comfortable around him, just slightly. “Do-do you like me?” She asked, starting to stutter.

He stopped in the hallway to turn and look at her straight in the eye with a sincere look on his face. “I have for a while, Y/N.” He said in all seriousness. No kidding around.

“M-me too,Peter.” She muttered with a smile. They looked at each other for a second before Peter broke the silence between the two.

“Do you want to hang out this weekend or something? We could study for that test next week.” Peter suggested, starting to walk towards their next class again. “I-I would love,” she smiled, “but only since we have Chemistry.” This time Peter was the one to laugh at the corny joke.

Peter was finally able to act like a normal teenager. No Spider-Man. No superheros. No super powers. Just him and a girl. Together.

the saga of is it a fic or are they headcanons continues.  parts one, TWO (this one!), three, four, five, six.

  • so michelle starts to get buddy buddy with ned and peter, ish.
  • she starts to actually kind of like ned, even if he sometimes puts his foot in his mouth sometimes. but they argue about the merits of comic books as a form of literature and he teaches her some words in tagalog and she learns how to call peter a son of a bitch so she’s pretty entertained.
  • but the weird things just keep piling up with peter.
  • he rushes off at random times, freezes whenever she asks him where he’s going, shows up to school with cuts and bruises looking like he’s been fighting in an underground boxing ring. she even saw him go into the chemistry lab the other day at lunch time even though they both took chemistry last year and he’s taking biology now.
  • he just does really weird things sometimes and michelle can’t help but notice.
  • michelle also can’t help but notice that spiderman is becoming more and more popular. people sell t-shrits, masks, shot glasses, tote bags. everything, basically. and maybe one day michelle might spend a little too much time looking at a t-shirt with a picture of spiderman in all his toned, muscly glory. but she just shakes her head and keeps moving.
  • she gets curious about him, though. where did he come from? who is he? why is he doing this? why did he sound oddly familiar in DC when he saved her friends?
  • and then one day she’s walking home from school after academic decathlon and she missed the bus which is totally her fault for staying later after practice to chat with peter and ned about the upcoming weekend and how their plans to construct a lego version of the starship enterprise were so utterly boring she could barely stand to listen to them. (and weren’t people supposed to choose star wars or star trek? was that not a thing? not that she cares about things peter likes. well, peter AND ned. anyway.)
  • she’s turning a corner when she sees someone out of the corner of her eyes. there is a man on the opposite side of the street walking several yards back from here. it could be nothing. but she’s also been taught to always be on high alert. so she grips her backpack to her body a bit tighter and walks a little faster down the street, cursing herself for not taking the more populated albeit slightly longer route home.
  • she continues down the street when she notices the man cross the street so that he’s on the same side of the road as she and at that point she just starts running. better that he thinks she’s odd if he isn’t following her than be caught if he is trying to catch her. she sprints down the street and turns another corner as she looks back to check if the man is following her and then bam. she’s on the ground, gripping the shoulder that practically crashed into a brick wall.
  • “oh my goodness, are you okay?” she sighs and looks at the owner of the panicked voice and she is left speechless. it’s…well, it’s spiderman.

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