just something about the way she worded that

anonymous asked:

This is just the insecure part of me worrying, but I had this disturbing thought. When GA said 'if she was single and childless' what if she didn't specify who she's with because the press already thinks she's with PM and she felt no need to restate something she thinks everyone assumes about her? Again, just my crazy thought but it's eating at me. I still don't know how you guys are connecting partner and 'not single' to DD. If you could tell me that, it'd help a lot.

First of all, she mentioned David as her partner in a radio interview a few days before this interview. Then, it was a written interview and if my memory serves me right, it was stated that her words have been rewritten to fit the interview. We have no way to know if she really said it, the way she said it, and what she exactly meant. Maybe she only mentioned the children and they added the “if I was single”, maybe she said it in a way like if I didn’t have children, maybe she indeed said it thinking about her partner, but at this point, it doesn’t have to mean that she’s with PM. 

It’s been two month without seeing them together. I know Gillian hasn’t done any public appearance since her promotional tour in NY, but shouldn’t two people in love living in the same city be spotted at least once together? There has been many sightings of Gillian in London in the last two months, none of them mentioned PM. 

It just seems less and less real to me :)

I wouldn’t exactly describe her as strictly beautiful. She knocked me out, though…I mean when she was talking and she got excited about something, her mouth sort of went in about fifty directions, her lips and all. That killed me. And she never really closed it all the way, her mouth. It was always just a little bit open, especially when she got in her golf stance, or when she was reading a book. She was always reading, and she read very good books. She read a lot of poetry and all. She was the only one…
—  J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

god though… chyler so openly talking about kissing girls irl like it just makes me so happy? she’s so fine with saying it, and saying it didn’t just happen once. and it isn’t a joke or something to just get a laugh, it’s actually something that happened in her life and she’s totally chill actually talking about it and doesn’t make it weird or make it some “sensationalist” kinda thing even if it only happened a few times and it didn’t change her life

and her saying the word lesbian, too. constantly calling alex a lesbian, not just gay. that makes me so happy to hear because she’s so ready to just say it. and most people don’t? they shy away from it like it’s a dirty word because society has programmed us all to feel that way. but it’s a beautiful word and a beautiful thing to be and her saying it so much and as often as she does makes me happy

anyway, chyler leigh makes me happy no matter what she does because she never does anything wrong or bad and is so supportive and amazing and beautiful… god i love her

Look, we need to talk about this Ok

This wasn’t some happy go luck episode, this wasn’t the sweet cool Starco episode everyone is trying to make it out to be or whatever. This was intense. This kid as been traveling and fighting for 16 years.

Marco traveled to every single dimension,(without sicors), He faced hundreds of monsters, he learned amazing things. He blew out every single flame of every single clone

Marco grew up guys. he grew UP. He built a life for himself. he lived for 16 years alone in the roughness of uncivilisation, with only himself to look out for. Constiantly tracking down clone after clone after clone.  He becomes a warior.

And yet, when he arrives at her doorstep, he doesn’t  attack her, and she doesn’t attack him. Infact, when he arrives, she’s already forming his scissors

She’s content, She’s plaesed. She has accept his work, and delcared  him worthy of the responiblility of having dimensional siccors. 

And marco has a similar reaction as well, he doesn’t immedetly take the scissors, doesn’t blow out her light as soon as possible. No, he sits down, gets comfy. he relaxs and tells his tales to her.

“you barley escaped me on the exploding flames of endor. And when I lost your trail in the mist of the never zone, I thought I’d never find you.”

They know eachother. This isn’t the first time he’s seen her. The REAL her since their first encounter when he was fourteen. They’e meet before, they’ve battled, and ran and talked formed an odd frenship out of their bond.

And then He rises to blows out her flame, and she lets him. She stands there, content as he softley, blows it out

“Not bad for a human. I underestmated you.”

And then, Star bust in….

And of cousre, Marco is happy to see her. He hasn’t seen her in over, and I’ll say it again, 16 years (reminder, normal people go to school for 12 years! First grade to senior. Marco has been working for those things, longs than the normal person goes to school.)

Now, I’m not here to go through this episode slide by slide, so lets move on. Marco finds out he’s only been gone from earth for 8 minutes, he get annoyed, ut then Star encourages him to come back home with her, so that everything can go back to normal.

Here’s the thing guys. Marco has spent the last 16 years matureing, fighting, living, He’s been spending the last 16 years BUILDING A LIFE. he doesn’t want to go back. he likes his life.

He likes the adventure, his sword and his dragon-motercikle pet thingy. The likes the life he’s build for himself here.

And this scares her. She pleads with him. BEGS him even. “But, what about your parents, your freinds….Me?” Star puts Marco in a position where he has to pick between his life, what he likes and her.

And here’s where this show gets really deep. he looks at his pet.

Guys you can feel that stabbing pain in your heart right? Right?  Oh man and then he looks at Hekapoo. This girl he’s chased for 16 years. 

“Don’t look at me, those siccors are yours now…you can come back here, anytime you want.”

So he makes his decision

But before he goes, he bids them goodbye. He asks Hekapoo to look after his pet. His one compainion on the road. And she agrees. 

Then he turns to her. Like when he entered, he greets her like an old freind, because that’s who she is. She’s not someone he resents, She’s some one he trusts. Someone he has faith in and who he know he can depend on.

“Likewise”

I mean, I’m sorry, but have you SEEN the way they’ve been looking at eachother this entire time? Their eyes, relaxed, smiles oh so small.Serriously, go back through the pictures I have here. you’ll see what I meant Mabye I’m crazy, but it almost seems like they’re in love. 

ha hah hah just kidding…sort of.

 Back to buisness.

Look at this. This is her thing. She’s been doing this to him since they first meet. It’s a way she “shows [her] affection” in the words of Toph

It’s what she does. He has something simillar to that as well

“Later H-poo.”

“Don’t call me that!”

They know eachother. They’ve know eachother for 16 years. They’ve been teasing eachother all that time while he’s been chasing her and she’s been slipping through his fingers. I don’t know about you, but that sounds like some wicked love story. 

But it’s not, because she’s some, immotal being and he’s a human and he’s ment to be with Star…That’s fine. I get that but still!

I meanserriously, when Hekapoo  creates siccors, she makes them individually for the owner, and look at marco’s

The blade’s are thick, and kind of resemble a sword, given how that’s the wepon he’s been using all this time, and it’s part of his pasword..but look at the that little flame where the blade conects to the handle? Doesn’t that look like her flame crown?

no, actually, it doesn’t. But it DOES  look like her clone’s crowns. The clone’s he’s been chassing and fighting al these years. She placed a bit of herself in his siscores because she was that important to him. (or at least she was important to his mission)

.

.

.

Ok, Ok, Ok….now here’s 

The most important stuff. 

Marco is back in his 14 year old body. He’s back on earth’s time line, and Star thinks its all fine and dandy…but it’s not.

Marco isn’t the same guys. He’s been gone for 16 years. He’s 30 years old mentally. Watch as he takes in his room, observing it like some alein place.

And he walks over to his computer, almost scared to touch it. These last few years, Marco’s probablby survied off of whatever he could kill or make with his own two hands. This kind of advancement…it might make him feel uncomftorble, like he’s cheating at life. 

“Password..? I don’t remember my password.”

For last 16 years, Marco has  probabbly been sleepin gon rocks, on the ground in caves. watch how catius he is lowering himself onto his bed. After two years, most soilders in the army can’t handle sleeping on beds because they’re “too soft” Imagine how marco feels. I mean, his sandwitch is still warm, as if none of his life had ever happened

This isn’t some crazy Narnia junk where Pete, Edwin, Lucy and Susan half forget what their life was like in narnia when they de-age after walking through the wardrobe. Where they go back to being kids mentally as well, as though their entire adventure was a dream.

NO.

Marco remembers it all. And this is HUGE. The show brodened on that. they showefd how uncomftorble he looked as he stood in his room all alone, because it was essential to show the effects that were left on him. 

This isn’t some happy Starco episode. this isn’t some cool ‘lets drool over adult marco’ episode either. This is some dark, bittersweet life. And you guys need to stop trying to weasle out of these facts.

sourcatsmiles  asked:

"You love me, right?" For Ladynoir

It was not the way he expected it to go down. Which, honestly, was rather impressive because in the past two years of their partnership Chat Noir must have plotted out at least 50 different possible scenarios in which he finally heard the coveted words. 

They had been joking around, legs swinging off the edge of of the parapet and laughing, enjoying the warm breeze. 

“Come on, you can’t tell me that your birthday is this week and not let me get you a present,” Chat whined, “what sort of partner would I be.” 

“The last thing I need for my birthday is a dead rat on my doorstep,” Ladybug teased as she once again failed to do a Jacob’s ladder with her Yo-yo. She scowled down at her weapon and Chat had to bite back a laugh. There was something incredibly endearing about the fact that for all the truly amazing things she had done with the magical item, she couldn’t seem to get the hang of a simple trick. 

“Ah, but you know that I won’t be giving you that, because I don’t know where your doorway is,” Chat grinned, “so your argument against my giving you a gift is invalid.” 

She rolled her eyes, but he could see her fighting back a smile. 

“Come on,” he whispered, dropping his chin onto her shoulder, “I’ll get you anything you want.” 

“Anything?” she asked, twisting her head to look at him and causing their noses to brush together. 

“Cross my heart and swear not to die, because I already promised you I wouldn’t after what happened last month.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him, her lips twisting into the disapproving pout that had become one of his favorite expressions. Not that he had a lack of those where she was concerned. Still, this particular look of fond annoyance was easily in the top 20. 

“Please?” he cajoled, stretching out the vowels like a hopeful child asking for a new toy. 

She looked away and Chat smiled. If she couldn’t meet his eyes it meant she was caving. 

“If Mayor Bourgeois is allowed to give you a statue, the least I should be allowed to do is get you a birthday present,” he whispered, trying not to fist pump as he saw her bite her lower lip. Victory was almost assured at this point. “Please?” he said again. 

“Anything?” she asked hesitantly. 

“Anything,” he assured her in the same quiet voice while internally he screamed in triumph. In fact he would probably be annoying Plagg later with his obligatory victory dance. 

Ladybug said nothing, continuing to stare out into the night, but Chat had learned patience was the key to these sorts of moods, so he simply waited, his head continuing to lull against her shoulder. 

“Chat?”

“Yes My Lady?”

“You love me right?” 

He felt his breath catch in his throat. He knew she didn’t mean it the way he wanted her to. It was a friendly statement, a joking lead-in to a request that usually meant she was insecure about something. It wasn’t the first time she had said it, but he still couldn’t help but be affected by the words. 

“Of course, to the end of my nine lives and beyond,” he said, his tone light despite the rapid pounding of his heart. 

“And you won’t make fun of me?” she said, with just enough of a tremor in her voice to belie her playful smile. 

“Never. Cat’s honor.” 

She took a deep breath and reached her hand up to pull at the collar of her suit. 

“What are you doing?” Chat squawked his face turning beet red as her fingers slide beneath the fabric and down towards her collar bone. 

She gave him a bemused smirk as she pulled out a carefully folded note, much to Chat’s simultaneous relief and dismay. 

“Never figured you for a prude,” she said tapping him on the nose with the paper. 

“What is so important that you felt the need to carry it around under your suit?” he grumbled, then instantly regretted his outburst when her shoulders hunched slightly. “Is it a picture of me? Admit it you pull it out to stare at it when I am not around.” He gave her his most salacious smirk and she gave him a playful shove, the momentary flash of doubt replaced with amusement. He mentally high fived himself on the nice save. Another thing to brag to Plagg about when they got home. 

“No. It’s a letter.” 

“I assume you are either going to elaborate, or you have decided to pursue a lifelong dream of becoming the world’s greatest calligrapher.” 

“What?”

“Never mind, you never did appreciate my sense of humor.” 

“It’s a letter for my crush.” 

His heart sank. 

“It’s stupid,” she said hurriedly, “it’s not even signed. I don’t know what is wrong with me that I can’t even bring myself to give him an anonymous love letter. I stupidly thought that maybe I would get lucky and could run in to him as Ladybug and maybe then I could…” she trailed off with a miserable laugh that broke his heart far worse than her infatuation with someone else. 

“My Lady-” 

“It’s horrible,” she cried, scooting back just enough so that she could look at him, “seriously, you have no idea how pathetic I have been.” 

“Come on it can’t be that bad.”

“For months I couldn’t even speak a complete sentence in front of him,” she wailed, “much less tell him how I feel!” 

“That’s totally normal.” 

“Oh, it get’s better. Because I wasn’t just content to make a fool of myself. No then I compensated by getting worse! My room is plastered with pictures of him. I have one framed on my nightstand!” 

“You are hardly the first person alive to go overboard about a crush,” Chat said thinking of his own hoard of fangirls that had only increased as he edged closer to adulthood.” 

“I wrote down his schedule on my calendar. In detail! Every time I learned something new, up it would go in big swirly cursive with little hearts and everything.” 

“OK, that’s admittedly a little weirder,” Chat winced, although he was somewhat amused at the image of her dotting little hearts all over the place, “still it could be-” 

“I stole his phone!”

“OK yeah, you’re crazy.”

“I told you. Instead of just confessing to him like a normal person I turned into,” she gestured helplessly at herself, “this.” 

“But at least you admit it,” he said kindly. “and if need be I can get you the name of an excellent therapist.” 

She gave him a weak smile, and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into a gentle hug. 

“I thought if I could just give him this letter, even if he didn’t know it was from me, then I could… I donnow, not move on exactly but, get better, maybe?” 

She fiddled with the piece of paper in her hand and somehow, seeing her like this- relaxed and vulnerable, and just a little bit insane- made him love her even more. 

Maybe they would never amount to anything. Maybe she would end up with this mystery crush, or the next one. But in that moment Chat knew that he would never regret loving this girl. He would be happy to stay by her side in whatever way she needed him. That would be enough. 

“Do you want me to give it to him for you?” he asked, any regret he might have felt vanishing at the hopeful look that sprang to her eyes. 

“Would you?” 

“Of course Bugaboo. Although, if this turns into some sort of wacky rom-com where he thinks that I am the secret admirer and starts chasing after my dazzling good looks and unparalleled charm, you are not allowed to make it my fault.” 

“Ok,” she laughed, leaning her head back against his shoulder with a sigh that he could swear reverberated in his very soul. 

“So who am I delivering this to anyways?” he asked a little shakily carefully plucking the letter from her and slipping into into the pocket of his suit. “Who is this dashing rogue who has turned you into a literal lovesick schoolgirl?” 

“Adrien Agreste,” she confessed with a blush. “I’m in love with Adrien Agreste.” 

It was definitely not how he had expected things to go down. Never in a million years would he have dreamed up this scenario when he finally heard the coveted words- his name on her tongue, her voice saying that she loved him, HIM, of all people. 

It was not what he expected- but damn if it still wasn’t the greatest moment in his life. 



Look who’s back to her 4 word prompts! On to the next one! (Not taking any new ones just finishing up the ones I have.

She was a library,
and I wanted to peruse every section.
Out of all of them,
creative nonfiction was my favorite.
There was something about the way
her smile was stitched into her voice
when she spoke about her passions.
Which of her genres is our story in now?
Fantasy as a dream that never came true?
Horror because I’m just another ghost?
For me, it’s poetry.
Sometimes I wish I could forget it,
pretend it never existed,
pretend she never existed.
But after all of the reading I’ve done,
if I’ve learned anything,
it’s that there are some stories
that will always stay with you.
—  Maxwell Diawuoh, NaPoWriMo Day 2 - Library
There’s something about her…
Maybe it’s the way her hair falls so effortlessly and resembles the relief of the sunset after a long day.
Maybe it’s the way her crystal blue eyes glisten when she is inspired.
Maybe it’s the way the sun kisses her skin in the morning and leaves beautiful brown splatters all over her body like paint.
Maybe it’s the way her body reflects the image of mountains, her curves a scene to be seen, majestic and captivating and breathtaking.
Maybe it’s the way her smile sends a beam of light through a room and her laugh fills my ears like my favorite song blasting through my earbuds on repeat.
Maybe it’s not just her physical beauty…
Maybe it’s the way she always sees the good in each day even when the world seems to have sent all it’s weight on her shoulders.
Maybe it’s the way she looks at me with curiosity and love and care.
Maybe it’s the way her skin feels under my fingertips.
Maybe it’s the way her body moves so effortlessly in a way so intriguing and raw like she is sharing a glimpse of her mind and soul.
Maybe it’s the way she speaks when she discusses something she cares about and how her words unapologetically escape her lips.
Maybe it’s every aspect of her mind, body, and soul that leaves me in awe of her each day.
I don’t know, there’s just something about her.
—  daydream thoughts; 04-17-17
2

She was so damn pretty, everything she did, it was just….pretty.

Jughead leaned back against the lockers, rolling the word around in his mouth, he was fairly certain that term had never passed his lips before. When you thought of Jughead you didn’t think of flowery words like “pretty”, you thought of darker words like “morbid” or “obtuse” neither of which described the blonde beauty currently digging through her locker, loose, light blue, floral skirt flowing softly behind her.

Something was different about her today though, he couldn’t place it, he really had only caught a glimpse of her face as she headed through the doors but just a look was enough to tell him something was off, not in a bad way no, but it was different.

Sure her hair was out of it’s usually tight and slicked back ponytail, but that wasn’t all. Almost as if sensing his stare Betty closed her locker and turned to face him, her eyes looking past him at something in the distance.

Oh, that was it.

Betty’s face was devoid of all makeup, her normally pale conplexion was a bit tanner and her cheeks had a natural pink blush to them. Her eyes seemed younger underneath long light lashes, free of the heavy black mascara, her gorgeous wavy blonde hair fell in her face and he watched as she blew a strand from her light pink lips. He liked that color more than her usual “perfectly pink” shade.

Suddenly dark green eyes connected with his own stormy blues and those soft pink lips quirked up into a smile, she was walking towards him, her backpack hanging off her bare shoulders.

“Morning Juggie.” She smiled softly, gently nudging him with her shoulder and leaning on him for a moment.

“Morning Bets, you look..different.” He said slowly, careful not to offend her, he knew how sensitive his mother had been about not wearing makeup.

Betty laughed heartily, resting a hand on his arm
“It was way too hot today Juggie, all of my makeup would’ve melted off, and I get horrible headaches in the heat, that ponytail was just not happening. I know I’m a mess.” She shrugged delicately as they began their walk to class.

Jughead shook his head quickly, he couldn’t stop staring at her, it was like she wasn’t real, some kind of angelic figment of his overactive imagination.

“You look good, I like this better.” He coughed awkwardly, rubbing his neck and shifting on his feet.

Betty looked up at him and beamed
“Really? I don’t look… I don’t know. Sick?”

Jughead shook his head again, putting a hand to her cheek and brushing away a stray, honey blonde curl
“No. you look good. Perfect.” He mumbled.

Betty blushed again, placing her hand on her cheek to cover his own.

They hadn’t established what this “relationship” they had begun was, after only a few stolen kisses in bedrooms or on street corners, Jughead had pulled back, he didn’t know where he stood with her and he didn’t want to over step his boundaries, but god did he ache to touch her. All the time actually. And moments like this, just staring at her. He realized just how lucky he was to have her. In any way.

“Echem.”

The sudden noise caused them to break out of their personal bubble. They both broke apart, flinging away from each other like they had been burnt. Veronica and Kevin stood, their hands on their hips and smiles on their faces.

“Sorry lovebirds but some of us need to get into the classroom.” Veronica giggled, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Sorry! We were just.. I had um.” Betty trailed off, her eyes turning to Jughead, pleading him to come up with an excuse

“You don’t need an excuse to stare lovingly at your boyfriend B. It’s totally normal, I mean if I were him I wouldn’t be able to take my eyes off of you.” Veronica winked as Betty physically relaxed, leaning her back against Jugheads chest.

Kevin was nodding, his smile bright
“Next time let me know though, I’m head of the yearbook committee and I would love to get some shots for “class couple.” He winked and shoved Veronica softly into the classroom.

Jughead dropped his hands to Betty’s shoulder and turned her around gently

“So..” he started.

Betty was quick to interrupt

“I’m sorry, they can be… a lot. Veronica doesn’t know what she’s talking about, I don’t want you to feel pressured to put a label on this.. it’s not…” she rambled before Jughead cut her off with a swift kiss

Pulling away he smiled at her dazed expression
“Man, my girlfriend talks a lot.” He smirked.

Betty’s eyes instantly brightened and she smiled up at him.

“Well deal with it mister, you’re in it for the long haul… right?” She asked, a shy, questioning, smile on her face.

“You bet I am.” He wrapped his fingers around hers and pulled her into the classroom, he couldn’t wait for the long haul.

It pisses me off so much how in the books Parvati and Lavender are just pidgeon-holed as ‘fashion obsessed hair heads’ for most of the books?

I mean, they might not be, but that was the impression pre-teen!me got from reading the books?

And now I’m all … okay, okay Hermione is awesome and we all know it.

But that doesn’t mean Lavender and Parvati are stupid just because they are geared differently from Hermione.

Fashion is hella hard and it requires a lot of memorization and attention to detail? And honestly Lavender and Parvati seem to be pretty nice people, in the little glimpses we get of them?

And all I want is Harry, following the Weasley without getting noticed (because he is used to sneaking around without disturbing people or attracting their attention, owing to the Dursley for that) and getting through the barrier and on the train.

And Lavender’s father helping him out with his baggage, jokingly asking him to keep an eye on his little girl? You seem like a good lad, my Lavender is the most beautiful girl, I need a strong gentleman to keep an eye out until she gets to Hogwarts and she starts to learn magic, so are you up to it?

Which is, of course, not true. Lavender has been going to self-defense lessons for years.

But the man noticed that this was a little kid with no parents around, looking all alone.

He thought 'hey, maybe I can stick him with my kid and they’ll make friends’

(btw, as Lavender is not, as far as I know, confirmed as pureblood in canon, I am going with half-blood or muggleborn for her, I’m thinking muggleborn for this specific AU?)

And Lavender is all “Daddy!” and apologizing to Harry for her dorky dad the moment he is out of the door.

And very nicely avoiding to comment on his clothes because she knows how it feels to be conscious of how your clothes look on you and it’s clear to her eyes that the way Harry is dressed he is probably from some orphanage or something because those are huge hand me downs.

(Because fuck you 90s, being fashion conscious doesn’t mean you are an elitist bitch).

And her parents are looking at her from the Platform and instead of asking about Harry’s life, not wanting to put him on the spot, Lavender waves to them and starts talking to Harry all “Those are my parents, they are so fascinated with the idea of magic and what I will learn at Hogwarts, I can’t wait to write to them all about the castle. My dad works in an office as an accountant and my mother has a column in –” Insert popular teen magazine for 90s UK.

And Harry is a bit overwhelmed but Lavender isn’t staring at him, she is not forcing him to talk and she looks nice.

So he kind of starts to tell her about the Dursely y'know, not like he did with Ron about how terrible they are, but about Vernon working for Grunnings (Lavender giggles and says 'Oh I am so sorry but it just sounds like a really silly name? Grunnings.’ and she tries to stretch the word a bit and Harry laughs a little and says yes, because it does sound silly the way she’s saying it, he just had never thought about it. 'I think it’s Swedish or something’ he offers and Lavenders nods sagely because yes, that makes sense) and how Petunia lives at home and reads all sort of gossipy papers, but not teen ones so sorry, he has never seen Lavender’s mom’s column.

And then the door to their compartment open and Parvati and Padma’s mother (I don’t know if they are pureblood but I’m headcanoning them as pureblood for this one) politely asks if there’s space for two more girls and when Lavender and Harry, after looking at each other, agree, Madam Patil levitates their trunks in (much to the amazement of Harry and Lavender) and settles them above and then guides her daughters in.

She introduces them, putting her hands on her shoulders, cautions her girls to not get wand-happy and wishes everyone a happy Hogwarts year and then leaves them there, going back to the Platform to join her husband and tell him how she left their daughters in the presence of Harry Potter.

“He looked dreadful. Hard up at the very least. I think you should look into his family situation. His clothes, at the very least, were terrible.” She murmurs, softly. “I am sure our girls will adopt him before the ride is over, so you should look forward to hearing about him in their letters.”

Her husband, who knows all about his beloved’s wife tendency to take people under her wing and adopt dangerous animals and fell in love with her for it (as well as for other qualities she has) because he’s very much the same, smiles fondly at her for the last bit and nods seriously at the first one.

It doesn’t matter who the boy is. Well it does, because Harry Potter of course, but it also doesn’t matter because no child should be mistreated.

Also it’s kind of strange that Harry Potter would look hard up, considering it’s common knowledge his parents left him handsomely provided for, full tuition to Hogwarts already paid.

Lavender gushes about how beautiful the Patil twins are, which immediately conquers Parvati, who gushes right back at Lavender’s sparkly accessories.

(Look, I might be wrong because this was the UK and not Italy, and if I am please let me know, but I was a child in the 90s, I bought italian teen magazines, sparkly shit taped to the cover under a plastic sleeve was the shit with fashionable people.)

Of course the moment Harry introduces himself, the Parvati twins try really hard not to goggle, though they do look at his scar, and then Parvati starts asking a storm of questions about where he grew up, whether the Harry Potter adventure books right about all he did since he was a child, if not that what did he do since beating You-Know-Who.

Harry 'Do you mean Voldemort?’ is greeted by soft gasps, right until Lavender asks 'Who?’ and then Parvati starts telling her all about the horrible Voldemort and how Harry and his parents saved them all from that monster.

Padma’s brain on the other hand is whirring and she is the one who reassures Harry that he will do just as fine as everybody else, when he says that.

Lavender and Parvati interrupt their convo because Lavender needs to assure to Harry that she’s muggleborn too, so they will have to learn together and he will be just on par with her, while Parvati explains that magical kids do get a leg up because some of them are allowed to practice at home but that really, she will make sure Harry is up to date with everything that is 'stupefy’ about the magical world.

At which point, Lavender asks what 'stupefy’ means and Padma explains that it’s the stunning spell, so don’t say it while pointing your wand at anyone and Parvati adds that it means, well, the most stunning things around.

(What? Wizarding children should have their own slang).

So by the point Hermione and Neville come by, the group as already made the first basic ties and while Neville is greeted and introduced by Padma and Parvati to the rest of the group, Hermione goes on fine right until she hears Harry’s name.

Padma and Parvati thinks it’s … whatever wizarding equivalent is there of gauche, that Hermione would throw that torrent of words at Harry and just … presume to know about him.

Lavender is just hella protective of her new friend.

Tightly knit protective of Harry formation is achieved in 0.2 seconds.

Neville, who has been around other pureblood children but has been condescended upon by most of them (not Padma and Parvati, given that Parvati will stick up for him later on, but still, it was a general tendency towards a potential squib) has found in Hermione one person who has been nice to him to the point of going out of her way to help him look for his embarrassing toad, so he gets protective of Hermione right back.

So basically, Parvati tells Hermione that she should not barrage people with informations like that, Neville replies timidly that Hermione didn’t mean anything bad, she just like quoting sources, Lavender tells Harry that he doesn’t have to worry, they’ll look up all that stuff when they get to Hogwarts, Hermione gets huffy because of course she didn’t mean anything bad, she just thought Harry would know about that stuff, Padma asks why Hermione would think that when Harry has been raised in the muggle world, Neville goggles at the news that Harry was raised in the muggle world.

It’s a mess.

And then Draco Malfoy arrives, because he’s been making the rounds of the train to look for Harry Potter (saying hi to family allies on the way).

I am not sure who says what to whom for most of the ‘chat’ but what I am sure of is that by the end of it, Neville and Hermione are going to be best friends forever and an united front against snobby purebloods, Padma has icily informed 'Mister Malfoy’ that she will be writing to her father about how low the raising standards of the Malfoy have fallen to produce Draco as a result, in response to a snipe Draco made about telling his father about the Patil twins and the rabble they are sticking with, Parvati has informed Crabbe and Goyle that she had not thought they were better than this but they definitely need to find themselves friends who don’t just treat them like dumb muscle and Lavender has vowed to herself that it doesn’t matter to her how cute Draco Malfoy is or how attractive his silver hair are she will spell his hair and robes to look like something an 80s hairband groupie would wear, just as soon as she learns the necessary spells.

To make it simple, battle lines have been drawn, metaphorical blood has been spilled on all sides and the Harry-Lavender-Parvati-Padma friendship has been set in stone.

Ron, if you are curious about him, found a compartment that had Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas in it and spent a really amazing first ride to Hogwarts.

They both made sure Dean knew how Gryffindor was the best house there ever is and then they explained Quidditch to him and became fascinated when Dean explained football (to americans: soccer) to them, especially once Dean started sketching out schemes and stuff.

There are too many players, but it looks like exactly the kind of team effort chasers have to put together only spread through eleven people and that’s just wow.

Honestly, we don’t talk about Clarke’s love for Bellamy as much as we should. The episode was littered with hints of it coming through as it always does when stakes are high. Don’t forget that her first words of the season were used to reassure him. She says “she’ll be okay, Octavia can take care of herself.” It took her one second to notice his look of concern and she immediately jumped into Reassuring Girlfriend Mode™. He didn’t even say ONE word and she knew where his thoughts were. When she see’s him coming towards Echo, with a blade pressed to her throat she yells “BELLAMY DON’T.” Because she damn well knows that he’ll risk his life for her, and she’d rather surrender herself then ever see something happen to him because of her. And when he’s pulled into the room and Echo puts the blade to his throat, Clarke is quick to start talking. Like any natural born leader, she uses her words to talk herself out of any situation. It’s her best chance. So don’t forget about all the ways Clarke Griffin showed that she loves Bellamy Blake, her support, her appreciation, her protectiveness. This was only the first episode and we already saw so much from her. 

Unexpected [Clay Jensen]

Pairing:Clay Jensen x fem!reader

Request:could you do #50 with clay from 13rw ?:) 

A/N:I read “you’d make” and not “we’d make” a cute couple so it turned out differently oops:(ALSO HAPPY HANNAH MAKES ME HAPPY-M

tags: @shamless-wolfies     @gamesandremixes      @leviathan-cas-05

Originally posted by felicithis



“Oh come on Y/N,when are you planning to tell him?“Hannah asked and took a sip from her milkshake.Y/N snorted and shook her head.

“I don’t know,maybe,never?”She said between laughs and shrugged her shoulders.

“Hey,look at me,” Hannah had gotten serious.She took her friend’s hands in hers,rubbing them softly. “Y/N, i don’t see where the bad thing is!He needs to know!And i’m sure he likes you too,so much!You guys would make such a cute couple!” She shouted from excitement.Y/N’s eyes widened and she immediately shushed her friend.

“Oh my God Hannah!We’re not the only people in here!“

Y/N took a quick look at her surroundings.Nobody at Monet’s seemed to notice Hannah’s sudden outburst.

“Look,what if he doesn’t like me back?I really don’t wanna embarrass myself…”She pointed and sighed once again.

Y/N had been crushing on Clay Jensen for years.But she thought that it’d ruin their friendship if she confessed her feelings for him.Of course,Hannah couldn’t let her friend drown in ignorance;she had everything planned.And she was sure the plan was going to work.It had to.

“Hey,positive thoughts right?Everything’s going to be fine and i’m sure that by the end of this date,you guys will be the best couple ev-”

Y/N was drinking her coffee but as soon as she heard Hannah’s words she almost spilled it.

“Whoa- what da-”

“Hey guys!“Said a familiar voice from behind.With a shocked expression on her face,Y/N turned around and came face to face with none other but Clay Jensen.His hands were tightly holding his backpack but there was a smile on his face nonetheless. What in the world had Hannah done?

“Hey Helmet!“Hannah exclaimed and quickly stood up.Grabbing her bag,she lightly patted his shoulder,she winked at Y/N and started walking away.

“I was just leaving.”

“You’re dead…"Y/N mumbled,her eyes fixed on Hannah.The girl took her tongue out and waved them goodbye,then she soon disappeared.

“What am i gonna do,what am i gonna do?“She thought to herself.She slowly started panicking and that wasn’t good.What had Hannah told Clay?Did she tell him that she was head over heels for him?No,no that wasn’t gonna end up well…

“So…” Clay started as he let his backpack down and took Hannah’s seat.

“Hannah said that you wanted to inform me about something that’s been bothering you lately?”

Y/N simply nodded.She was dying to tell him.But she was scared of his reaction.

“Should i be worried?” He asked and frowned.

It was then or never.She took a deep breath.She decided to stop hiding behind her little finger.If Clay was a true friend he wouldn’t dump her for that.Besides,it was the way she felt.She needed to share it.She would feel better and more relaxed if she did.At the end of the day,it wouldn’t even matter,there were just gonna be some words that needed to be spoken.

“Listen.I don’t care if you don’t see me the same way,i’m just gonna say it;i like you.I’ve liked you since junior high school and i never had the courage to tell you because i was scared.But you know what?I just realized that it’s totally fine.I’ve told you everything about myself,you know me better than anyone else.I like you so much that i might even love you.And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same.I just think that this is something that i should’ve told you long ago.“

Y/N talked in a low voice.Her eyes were staring intently at the wooden table.She finished her little speech and let out a deep breath.That was it.Now she was waiting for her friend’s answer.

She couldn’t see the smile slowly creeping on his beautiful face.He coughed a little bit before speaking.

“Y/N the feeling is mutual.“He almost whispered and reached for her right hand.

“What?” She asked,surprised,and looked up.

“For a long time too.And it’s crazy,you and me sitting here talking about it so calm and…It feels good to be honest.”

She couldn’t help but smile.The butterflies in her stomach didn’t seem to leave her.She was sure her cheeks were red but honestly,she didn’t care. “So, you’re saying that-” She didn’t manage to finish her sentence because he extended so as his face was close to hers.Soon, a pair of soft lips were on hers but only for a few seconds;people were watching,kids.But even a few seconds were enough to melt Y/N’s heart.

“You know i don’t say this often but,do you mind being my girlfriend?”

She gave him a cheeky grin and squeezed his hand gently.

“No Clay,not at all!”

The best part is that Y/N and Clay couldn’t see Hannah watching them behind the corner,her hand in her mouth to prevent herself from yelling.Her OTP was finally getting together,there’s nothing in this world she wanted more at this very moment.

I’ll Be Good - Part 22 (End)

Masterlist -  Series Masterlist  -  Part 21

Summary: Series - You’re an old colleague of Natasha’s who finds herself face to face with the Winter Soldier on the wrong end of an Avengers’ op. Chapter – Your future after the dangerous decision you made on the rooftop, and an unexpected glimpse into your past when Natasha peaks into the file she found.

Warnings: swearing, violence

Word Count: 3911 (welp I didn’t even try to keep this short… Oh well.)

Author’s Note: I cannot believe this is the end!!! Bittersweet! I’m not 100% sure how I feel about the file piece… But I’m just going to go with it. Maybe one day if inspiration strikes I’ll revisit that part in another way… teeny sequel or something, I don’t know. Anyway, hopefully this gives everyone closure and you enjoyed reading my first fic! Yay!

For the second time in the few months since you’d first run into Natasha again, you woke to a screaming pain radiating through your shoulder as you returned to consciousness. The steady beeping of the heart monitor increased as you became more aware of the pain crying out all over your body.

Your side continued to ache where the Commander had slipped his slender knife between your ribs, but now the pain radiated over your torso with every breath. A dull ache rippling beneath a pattern of deep bruising. Exhaustion held an entirely new meaning. Every muscle ached when you slowly tried testing a few of them, checking for mobility. Finding yourself mostly free you tried to will yourself to move, hoping that if you sat up more, the shrieking pain in your shoulder would subside.

As your eyes fluttered open, Nat immediately jumped up from her chair in the corner, silently stepping closer, her sharp eyes flashing over to the crumpled form beside you. You glanced down to your side to find Bucky, dead asleep, a mess of tangled dark hair covering his face and creeping over your blanket. His head rested on crossed forearms beside you on the hospital bed and you bit back a small grateful smile, knowing how exhausted he must be. It was clear from the thick scruff on his jaw and the fact that he could fall asleep in such a precarious way, that he hadn’t left your side, not for days.

Days. You’d been here for days…

Keep reading

She Can Hear You

Pairing: Sam x Reader
Words:  1078
Requested by Anonymous:  Can I please get a Sam oneshot where the reader temporarily goes deaf (though they al think it’s permanent) and Sam takes the opportunity to repeatedly tell her how he feels about her and then the deafness wears off but she doesn’t tell him because she likes hearing what he says, though he finds out somehow and is embarrassed before she tells him she loves him too? 



          The explosion was deafening. Literally. Your ears started ringing. And then there had been nothing.

           When Sam and Dean found you, you had tears rolling down your cheeks. You had somehow let them know you couldn’t hear. They looked almost as scared as you felt. What were you going to do?

 ~~~

Sam’s Point Of View

           It was terrible, really. The fact that Y/N couldn’t hear was terrifying for all of us. I hated seeing how distraught she was. Seeing her like that made me sad. She had been so full of life. Now, she was just sitting around, not doing anything.

           “I wish you could realize how amazing you are,” I sighed, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Y/N’s back was to me, so she couldn’t read my lips or see that I was talking to her. But for some reason, that helped me open up to her. I would have never had the courage if she actually had her hearing back.

           “That’s not fair, Sam,” Dean said from behind me, making me jump.

           I turned and looked at him, “What?”

           “You can’t confess your love to her when she can’t hear you. That’s not fair. To either of you,” he said.

           “Dean, I can’t really tell her.”

           “Coward,” Dean accused.

           “It’s just … it’s complicated.”

           “Whatever.”

Keep reading

Toothbrush - L.H.

Okay…so I (obviously) got this idea from listening to Toothbrush from DNCE. I’ve also decided I want to update every Friday so every time I finish something, I’m just going to queue it up. Enjoy

Also…I know I said no more Luke pieces for awhile, but this literally came to me in class and I wrote it in fifty minutes so….


Luke woke up early from the sunlight pouring in through the window on the other side of the room, body still bare from the night before, the only thing covering him being the stupid little close to nothing sheet resting on his hips. His bright blue eyes fluttered open slightly, heart sinking as he sat up confused as to why the body next to him had disappeared at such an early hour of the day, the clock reading a mere 6:17 in the morning, no longer confused when he heard the toilet flush from the bathroom just down the hall…unless it was Ashton of course since he was the usual prospect that would be up this early in the morning.

He ran a hand through his tousled hair, bringing his palms down over his face rubbing the tiredness from them slightly as he waited for his lover to return to the room.

“You’re up early,” she mumbled seeing him awake as she leaned up against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest as she looked over the tired man’s features, a lazy smile gracing his perfectly pouted lips. She had on his torn Nirvana tee, the fabric falling to the tops of her thighs, and with the way she was leaning against the frame, he could see her favorite pair of navy blue panties from Victoria’s Secret. Her feet were still bare, probably having lost her socks in his sheets through the night, as she always did, even though she refused to take them off before falling asleep. He’d always loved her sense of style, but he always thought she looked best dressed in his shirt with no pants on laying in his bed.

Her hair was still a mess, sticking up slightly in awkward directions, most likely extremely tangled and in desperate need of a pound of his conditioner to comb out the knots before she left. Her eyeliner had run across the side of her face lightly and he was sure there was glitter on his pillows from her eye shadow as well, small love bites gracing the length of her neck, small enough for him to miss if she had her hair styled the right way covering them perfectly. It was a sight he always loved, even if she did look like a hot mess. She was his hot mess.

“Luke, are you listening to me?” she asked smirking slightly knowing he wasn’t. He never was when he was looking at her like that…not that she knew exactly what that look on his face was, but she knew it enough to know he was lost in his train of thought.

“Not at all, sweetheart,” he hummed leaning back against his pillows, arms making their way behind his bed as his muscles shifted slightly, eyes daring her to make her way back to bed with him, and she knew she would. “Close the door love.”

She did as she was told, feet padding softly against the dark, hardwood floors as she climbed into bed right over to him, swinging her leg over his hip so she was straddling him, as placed strategically against his pelvis, knowing damn well if she wanted to at any point in time she could change the entire mood.

“What were you saying?” he asked, hands making their way to her thighs rubbing the soft, bare skin lightly leaving goosebumps behind.

“I said I can’t stay long. I’m working at eleven,” she said running her nails down his chest lightly, up and down, over and over, Luke shivering slightly at the feeling.

“That reminds me..I need to talk to you,” he mumbled, hands slowly making their way to her hips as he ran his thumbs in small circles under the fabric of his shirt along her bare skin.

“What about, rock star?” she asked, brows furrowing together confused, not sure if she should be worried or not. Usually he’d just come out and say it, not making it a big deal unless it was something important.

“Well…I mean…we’ve been doing this for what…five months now…?” he asked stumbling over his words as she giggled slightly.

“Six,” she she said smirking slightly. “Where are you going with this Lu?”

“Well, I was thinking…that maybe you could like…leave some of your stuff here so when you do have to go in the morning you don’t have to leave so early…” he suggested making her heart melt as she smiled softly at him. “Like..maybe that coconut shampoo you have or your toothbrush…”

“And maybe some clothes considering I can’t really work in your tee and panties,” she teased as he blushed more. “You’re too cute, you know.”

“Are you going to answer me or just make fun of me?” he pouted as she leaned in pecking his lips quickly.

“I’ll bring them over when I see you tonight.”

Alex’s Sorting

Prompt from the lovely @iamdeltas – “Maybe something about when they first get sorted into their houses, and Alex is really upset about being in Slytherin.”

(Note: in this minific, Kara came to live with the Danvers a few years earlier than she did in canon, so before Alex was sorted.)


Eliza would have been most pleased with Ravenclaw.

“Oh, the good you can do with that mind of yours, Alex, why would you ever put that to waste?”

Alex supposes Eliza would be okay with Gryffindor, too, because even though that’s the House for those “hard-headed ruffians would put brawn and ego before brains and forethought,” a little bravery would help her protect Kara better, wouldn’t it?

And hell, herself.

Though that never seemed to be a consideration of Eliza’s.

Hufflepuff?

Eliza just wouldn’t believe it. And, frankly, neither would Alex.

Before Kara came to live with them, she thought of herself as a toss-up between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

Her father always was telling her how selfless she was. How willing to put other people before herself. The way she loved, hard, fierce, with everything she had.

And she had a lot.

But then Kara came to live with them, and Eliza cornered Alex into being a third parent for her little sister, and then Jeremiah…

Everything she’s had to be, everything she’s had to bury, everything she’s had to become…

She’s got no chance at Hufflepuff, now.

She knows that.

But Slytherin?

Eliza would send a Howler for sure.

Because “Alexandra, it’s a disgrace to this family, to have such hatred in our midst” and “don’t you know their reputations, Alexandra, how could you possibly embrace those parts of yourself?” and “what on earth will Kara do when she gets to Hogwarts? Because they certainly won’t accept her into that elitist House of yours.”

Alex won’t comment on the irony. It’s always useless, anyway.

She’s useless.

Useless, because the Sorting Hat hears her pleas for Ravenclaw.

“Well you certainly have the brains for it. My my, what smarts there are in here.”

But that’s not all the Hat has to say.

“But courage, too, oh my dear, the courage of a lion indeed.”

And the damn Hat still isn’t done.

“So much buried in such a young heart; so much determination to do right by your sister, your mother, the memory of your father… Slytherin would serve you well, you know – oh, now now, resistant to the idea, I see – they’ll teach you to look out for yourself, you know, and the people you love, instead of looking out for the people you love at the cost of your own life – “

And it’s that.

That idea – the idea that she can protect Kara, and also, somehow, learn to look out for herself, too – that makes Alex’s brain buzz. That makes Alex’s heart leap.

That makes the Hat crack into a muffled smile and shout, “Slytherin!”

But she still cries in the bathroom.

Still cries when she slips away from the other first years, because she knows, lord, she knows, that when the owl post comes in the next morning, it is not going to be pretty.

Hogwarts was supposed to be her escape.

And now it’s just going to be something else she’s done wrong.

“Hello?”

The voice is small and the voice makes her crying stop cold. Makes her freeze and makes her heart do something she’s never felt before.

“What?” she snaps from inside the stall, and she thinks maybe the Hat was right about her, after all.

“It’s Danvers, right?”

“Who’s asking?” she snaps again, but even she can hear that her words are muffled by snot, by tears, by agony.

“Uh, sorry, I don’t mean to get in the way. I um… I’m Maggie. Sawyer. Maggie Sawyer. And I saw you slip away from the other Slytherins and I thought maybe… I thought maybe you could use a friend. Or something.”

Alex scoffs, still inside the stall, still not able to put a face to this name.

But she does remember the name.

And it figures, it really does.

“Hufflepuff, huh?”

She can’t see the girl, but she can feel Maggie bristle, can hear it in her voice.

“That a problem?”

Alex cracks a smile, and she’s glad this Hufflepuff girl can’t see. She rubs her eyes and she wipes her nose on the sleeve of her robe, and she unlocks the stall.

Her heart leaps, and she’s not quite sure why.

The girl is pretty. The girl is more than pretty.

She’s got these deep eyes, and this cute ponytail under her hat, and she’s got these adorable dimples. Alex can tell because the girl – Sawyer – smiles when Alex pops out of the stall.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“So is it a problem? Me being a Hufflepuff?”

“Not if it’s not a problem that I’m a…”

“Is that why you’re crying?”

“I’m not crying.”

Maggie just looks at her, and somehow there’s no judgment on her face.

“Well, I don’t know much about… all this. But I met this boy, James – he got sorted into Gryffindor, we sat together on the train – and he says sometimes Slytherins are the bravest and smartest and most selfless people. That you can’t tell who someone is by the color of their tie.”

“You’re a strange one, Sawyer – anyone ever tell you that?”

Maggie chuckles, like she knows Alex means it like a compliment – because she does.

“Only every day.”

They giggle softly, almost sadly, and they jump when the bathroom door opens.

“Oy! First years, aren’t you supposed to be with your Prefects?”

“I… I got sick. Too much pudding at the Feast. Threw up. Sawyer was helping me.”

The strikingly beautiful, older girl in Gryffindor robes, with a gleaming Head Girl badge, arches a careful eyebrow, like she knows Alex is lying, but she doesn’t mind.

“Alright you two. Come on, I’ll show you to your common rooms. Well, as far as I can go through the dungeon, anyway, for you – Danvers, is it? – and to the kitchen for you. Sawyer, right?”

“Yeah. Um, thank you…”

“M’orzz. M’gann M’orzz. Come on then. You can continue this risque inter-House friendship in the morning.”

Alex gulps, and Maggie does the same.

Friendship.

Ten minutes ago, the thought was relatively foreign to both of them.

Now?

Now, the morning is suddenly something to look very much forward to.

It had been going on for a while. Rival papers, rival journalists. Clarke would get the tip, Lexa would arrive first at the scene – or vice versa. She rather liked it when it was her getting the story first, but her victories were just as frequent as Lexa’s.

There had to be a traitor in her office – there was one in Lexa’s after all, with Niylah feeding Clarke scoop after scoop just as soon as Lexa got word of them. Was Lexa flirting with one of her co-workers too? The thought was… oddly unpleasant.

Of course, there were the times when their rivalry, known (and barely put up with) by all, took a slight… detour and things between them would heat up in a very different way than usual.

Even though she would never admit it to anyone, those were the times Clarke revelled the most. Those were the times that made losing a few first hand stories almost worth it. Lexa didn’t need to know that, though.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

The voice, softer than her own, pulled the corners of Clarke’s lips up into a smile. She lay her chin on the chest underneath her, blue eyes playfully meeting green ones.

“Thank God none of our friends know about this,” she admitted, placing a soft kiss between Lexa’s breasts. “Raven and Octavia would tease me endlessly.”

To Clarke’s surprise, Lexa didn’t smirk; she frowned. “You haven’t told your friends about us?”

Clarke laughed and got off of Lexa, opting to lie down beside her. “What, like you have?” The deepening crease between those striking jade eyes was answer enough and she didn’t know how to react. “There is no us, Lexa.”

Suddenly Lexa was up, throwing covers off her lithe body and searching for her clothes among the jungle of Clarke’s bedroom floor. Clarke, in turn, was utterly confused, taken aback by Lexa’s sullen behaviour.

“Where are you going?”

“What does it look like, Clarke?” Lexa snapped as she pulled pants up to her waist. “I’m going home.”

“Why? We were just relaxing, I don't– what the hell is wrong with you?”

Lexa finished buttoning her shirt and heaved an exasperated sigh, turning to Clarke with a cold gaze.

“I get it, Clarke. We are rivals, we steal each other’s stories, and then we fuck to keep the adrenaline pumping.” Lexa’s voice was as gelid and stoic as her eyes. “It’s just curious that you still see it as that when we have been staying the night for over three months.”

Feeling exposed all of a sudden, Clarke sat up and pulled the blankets up to cover her chest. “We agreed that it was easier if you caught the morning train to your place,” she said defensively.

“I’ve got a drawer in your wardrobe, Clarke!”

“Not my fault you leave your clothes here all the time,” the blonde shrugged.

Lexa’s eye roll was worthy of some Olympic back flip medal or something. Were there Olympic medals for back flips? Clarke didn’t really know a lot about sports.

“You call me aloof and emotionally constipated, but I am not the one who keeps believing those easy ways out after three months of mornings after,” Lexa claimed, a hue of hurt in the rainbow of feelings in her voice.

Clarke was at a loss for words, so she said the first thing that came to mind. “We fuck. What’s the big deal about that?”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, for Lexa just turned away with a huff and walked out, making sure to slam the door as she left.

*

They hadn’t talked for a month. Lexa had been keeping her distance: not coming any close to her stories, leaving Clarke alone to make the most of her own scoops. It would have been paradise, if not for the gaping absence of teasing remarks, insufferable smirks – any words at all. Clarke kept trying to steal some scoops for herself, but Lexa was relentless, never letting Clarke win.

In a fell swoop, Clarke had lost her fuck buddy and her rival. Every time she got to a place, Lexa would either be long gone or never show up at all. Journalism just wasn’t as fun anymore.

Clarke had loved the whole enemies/lovers dynamic, sleeping with none other than your greatest rival. After every hustle, they would fall into bed together, releasing their frustration and satiating their rivalry in each other’s arms, mouths, fingers. It was something Clarke had never experienced before.

Clarke was snatched out of her thoughts by a binder falling violently on her desk. She looked up to find Octavia glaring at her.

“What now, O?” Clarke asked impatiently. “Too much paperwork for your lazy ass?”

“Wow, Lexa really left your panties in a twist,” her brunette friend chuckled dryly. “Can you two please go back to fucking?”

Clark’s bewildered gasp and choke would have been funny if not for the situation they were in. “You know? she choked out in a spluttering mess.

“Of course I do,” Octavia frowned. “We all know Lexa lets you get half of her stories and then you two go home and fuck each other’s brains out. Or, well, did. Now you two just mope around like you lost your favourite candy.”

The knowledge that Lexa was doing just as bad as her gave Clarke an odd hopeful feeling. “She’s moping?”

“Of course she is. How would you expect her to react to a break up?”

“This was not– We weren’t even together.”

This time, Octavia laughed heartily, taking more than a minute to gather her bearings and turn to Clarke with a mocking expression.

“Sweetie, like or not, you two were dating for the past three months. You don’t do the morning after with someone you don’t care about.”

There it was again, the morning after. Clarke didn’t understand what relevance it had to the case. “I still don’t know why the morning after seems to be so important,” she grumbled.

Octavia just shook her head in disbelief. “You may be blonde, but you’re not blonde, Clarke. Don’t lie to yourself just because you’re afraid to face the truth.”

*

Clarke was determined to get this right. This story was Lexa’s, Niylah had promised, and she was going to get there fast enough to catch the brunette before she could leave.

She would also steal the story, but that was another story. Pun fully intended, Clarke decided in that moment.

When Lexa showed up, she was the image of beauty. Long brown curls tamed in a ponytail, her face was clean and open and probably what heaven looked like. Emerald eyes didn’t hide their owner’s shock to see her.

“Clarke,” Lexa half breathed, half gasped, eyes wide and lips parted.

Clarke had to remember the speech she had practiced at home, in front of her mirror, like a romantic loser.

“Lexa, I– Can we talk?”

Lexa eyed her suspiciously, but eventually agreed, with a discreet nod of her head. They headed to another room, making the interviewee wait for its five minutes in the limelight.

“What do you want, Clarke?” The hostility of Lexa’s tone made her flinch. She had a lot of explaining to do. “I will not go back to the way we were before.”

“I know, I know,” Clarke rushed to say, promising her memories of Lexa writhing under her that she would give them full her attention once she got home. “I don’t want that either.” At Lexa’s frown, she ploughed on. “I don’t want to go back to the way we were before, because I want so much more. I thought what we had was just an easy rivals with benefits situation. We would do the rivalling during the day, fuck during the night. You kept clothes at my place so no one would ever see you leave with the clothes of the day before on. In the middle of all the lying I did to keep myself from panicking, I forgot to realise that you started staying the night because I asked you to. And it went on for three months because I wanted you to. And I would ask and want you to stay the night because I needed to fall asleep and wake up next to you, because there is no greater feeling in the world than that of spending every hour of your day with the person you love.”

Lexa’s eyes were wide like saucers, but Clarke couldn’t stop now.

“That’s the other thing I forgot,” she admitted, her voice small. “I forgot that slowly but surely, I was falling in love with you.”

Lexa pressed her lips together pensively, letting the silence stretch before she broke it. “Why didn’t you tell your friends?”

“The same reason for all my other fuck ups: I was afraid. Telling them would mean they would be able to give me the advice I was dreading: that all those mornings after did hold meaning after all and that I couldn’t hide from my feelings anymore.”

Lexa nodded this time, still not making a sound. “Will you tell your friends now?”

Clarke couldn’t help but smile. “Already have.”

Another nod. “Are we still rivals?”

“You’re as much my enemy as when we started this whole thing.”

Lexa was sporting a small smile now, a crooked little thing that Clarke had always found adorable. “I would not have it any other way.”

“But Lexa, now you’re also my best friend and… If you give me the honour… My girlfriend.”

Lexa’s shy smile turned into a smirk. “Only if you admit that Polis is the superior newspaper.”

Clarke didn’t even gasp. “For you, I would quit the Arkadia.”

Lexa’s amused smile, however, showed she was just kidding. “No need. Wouldn’t want to end the rivalry, would we?”

In that moment – and the moment after, when she finally got to get reacquainted with Lexa’s lips –, Clarke knew that she wanted all the mornings after and the nights during and the afternoons before.

She wanted everything with Lexa.

Whipped...friends?? Or...not anymore??

Whipped…friends?? (Part One)

Whipped…friends?? Or… (Part Two)

Had Harry known Y/N was gonna be in New York he would have picked her up at the airport. He would have given her no other choice but to finally confront him because surely she wouldn’t have wanted to walk in this cold weather.

And he should’ve taken that moment back at the restaurant. Pulled her away from that bloke and asked who the hell he was. He would’ve told her he misses her, that in all honesty he’s very confused because he doesn’t know what he did to have her acting like he doesn’t exist. He can’t understand how she’s able to cut him out of his life this easily. He would tell her it hurts that she managed to do so. He should’ve taken that moment at the restaurant, but he didn’t.

And what infuriates him the most, is that Gemma knew.

He’s been on the phone with her for the past fifteen minutes. Ten of those spent going on about having seen her out with some guy he’s never before seen in his life. Harry’s moaned and complained, because ‘maybe she really is seeing someone, Gem. Maybe I’ve really lost m'chance.’

It wasn’t until then that Gemma decided to come forth with this information, coyly telling Harry that 'Y/N came over a few days ago to borrow a duffle cause she left hers at yours or summat.’

And Harry doesn’t know why she didn’t pop by his place to pick it up. Not like she was gonna run into him.

“You’re meant t’ tell me these type of things. M'ye’ brother.”

Harry’s been practically burning his hotel room floor from so much pacing, trying to figure out why in green Earth Gemma didn’t see 'fit’ to tell Harry that Y/N had told her she would be flying to the big apple.

“She hasn’t called ye’?” And what kind of question is that? She knows Harry’s not spoken to her since she left in a hurry that night.

“I’ve not gotten a single text, Gem.”

On the other end of line it sounds like Gemma’s shuffling about, and Harry can only imagine she’s just sat up by the tone to her next words.

“She hasn’t?,” and she sounds genuinely appalled.

Harry stops dead on his tracks, eyebrows furrowing deeper in thought. Why does he feel like she’s hiding something from him.

He runs his fingers through his hair, pulling at the ends in frustration, “what’re ye not tellin’ me, Gemma?”

And she’s quiet for about a minute, so Harry presses.

“Gem?”

“I thought she was going t’ see you, Haz.”

“Why would she? She’s not been answerin’ m'calls. Why would she go out of her way and come t’ New York t’ see me?”

Was she? Why wouldn’t she call him when she landed?

“Wait, how did she know I was here?”

Again, a slight pause.

“I might’ve told her a few ago when we went out t’ brunch.” Gemma sounded sheepish, knowing fully well there was no reason to tell Y/N of his whereabouts. Not when apparently she wanted nothing to do with him.

“She’d asked me how ye’ were. If ye’ were doin’ alright. So I told her. She didn’t say much about it. And then when she came over for the duffle, I just. I had t’ ask Harry.”

She sounds even more nervous now.

“Ask wha’?” This has Harry feeling uneasy.

“She’s your best friends for Christ’ sake.”

“What did ye’ ask her, Gemma?”

He feels like he has to sit down for this. And when he reaches the edge of the bed and sits, he doubles over, elbows on his knees. One hand holding his phone up to his ear, the other pinching at his bottom lip.

“I honestly can’t understand why she cut all contact with you. So I asked her why. And when she didn’t wanna talk about it, I pressed.”

But he feels like that’s not all they talked. “Wha’ did she say?”

“She broke down, Harry. She told me she couldn’t be friends with you knowing you loved someone else.”

“Wha’?”

Why would she think that? Most importantly, why would she stop talking to him all together because of that.

“That’s what I said. Told her you would’ve told me if you had. Also told her that was no reason to drop the friendship. And so she finally confessed her feelings for you to me.”

Harry can almost hear his heart rate pick up.

“She said as much as she loves you, she couldn’t stand seeing you with someone else.”

“She said she loves me.” He’s whispering it to himself. This is why she didn’t want to see him? How could she possibly think he could love anyone else but her. He thought he’d made it so obvious. “Gemma, tell me ye’ didn’t-.”

“Of course not,” she cuts him off, “-tha’s yours to tell her. Which you should have, you git. Shoulda told her a long time ago.”

“D'y'know where she’s staying?”

He’s gotten up from the bed so fast it makes his head woozy. He’s not even fully pulled his hoodie over his shoulders when he slips on his boots.

“Harry, it’s one in the morning where you are.”

But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that he’ll have to hail a cab so late at night instead of searching for the keys to his rental, because frankly he doesn’t remember where he’s left them and he can’t be bothered to spend any more time looking for them.

“Gemma tell me where she is.”

It doesn’t take long for Harry to get a cabbie’s attention, he is Harry Styles after all.

In the blur of it all, he’s somehow ended up with the boys hollering over the phone at him. Cheering him on and telling him to go get his girl.

“Honest, s'bout time it happened for the pair o'ya.” Next to Harry, he reckons Liam’s probably the most romantic out of the lot.

“Wha’ if she doesn’t want me? Wha’ if s'too late and she’s happy with tha’ other bloke?”

To the rest of the world, it would be insane for anyone to think Harry Styles has moments like these. Moments of doubt when he radiates confidence. But honestly he’s just like any other human being trying to find love and someone to give his own to.

“Who? Her cousin? That’d be weird,man,” Niall chimes nonchalantly.

He can hear what sounds like two slaps to the arm before hearing Niall grunt in dissatisfaction.

Has everyone been hiding these vital specs of information from him.

But he doesn’t even have to ask before Niall’s explaining.

“Okay, yeh I knew she was goin’ t’ New York.”

Of course. In retrospect, Harry should’ve know Niall might’ve known. Next to Harry, Niall’s the closest to Y/N. What with him going back and forth dealing with the film and the magazine a few months ago, Liam doing his solo project and preparing for his and Cheryl’s baby, and Louis in LA most than not for Freddie; Niall’s the only one who’s just so happened to not travel much during the hiatus.And he never really minded taking Y/N with him when he did have things to do.

“She tol’ me she needed t'see you. N’ I didn’t wanna spoil the surprise.”

“Well tha’s great, innit? Everyone knew but me? Anythin’ else any o'ye would like t'share?”

He doesn’t mean to sound frustrated, but he just..is. Had he known all of this, everything would have gotten resolved earlier, and he wouldn’t have had to sulk over Y/N being out with a cousin. He wouldn’t have had to watch her walk away and out of that restaurant, an awful feeling in his heart at she sight of her with someone else.

But it’s all done, and at least now he knows the way she’d look at him, like she was smitten, wasn’t all in his head.

“Quit your mopping, Harold and just tell her how much you miss her.”

After Harry had told the boys what’d happened and asked them not to hassle him about it, they’d let off the teasing, didn’t wanna strike a nerve and make Harry feel bad. He is the baby after all. Now, Harry can’t help but smile sheepishly at the sound of all three making kissy noises on the other end of the line.

With whole hearted 'good luck’s from the boys, Harry hangs up and his mind goes back to wondering what will happen after tonight.

The rest of the drive there his mind’s still trying to process the fact that Y/N told Gemma she loves him. His Y/N loves him.

And when he reaches her suite, he’s not sure if she’ll open the door. Or if she’s even gotten into bed yet.

But he knocks nonetheless, and when he hears light footsteps getting closer on the other side, the butterflies in his tummy go wild.

“Who is it?” Oh how he’s missed hearing that voice.

“Room service.” He can’t risk her not opening if he tells her it’s him.

The door slides open just a bit then, and he sees her peek through it before hearing her yawn.

“Please,” is the first thing his head can muster up, “don’t shut me out, poppet.”

Y/N doesn’t know what to say…what to feel. After not seeing Harry for so long, here he is, stood in front of her hotel room, palm on the door as if to prevent her from closing it.

And she’d be a liar if she said she didn’t miss him. Hearing him plead for her not to deny him entrance.

She’s lost in a trance, looking him over, his eyes tired and hair a mess. Pink lips pursed into a line against the pale of his skin. And his green eyes, burning into her with a sad look.

But she doesn’t say anything. Just steps back into the darkness of the room, allowing Harry to slip in and shut the door behind him.

“I miss ye, kitten.” He breathes in relief, finally able to tell her so she doesn’t think he doesn’t.

She sighs, her back facing him, “Harry, can we please do this tomorrow?”

And Harry can’t deny that deflates him a bit. As much of a long shot as it was, he was really hoping she’d say she misses him too.

He strides over to her, but keeps his hands to himself even though he’s been dying to hug her again. There’s nothing else he can do with them but thumb at the rings to twist them around his fingers.

“No,” he whispers, determined. “M'not leaving until y'tell me wha’ I did wrong.” He wants to hear it from her lips.

She turns to look at him, towering above her. Too close, but too far. “You did nothing, Harry.”

“Then why’ve ye’ not been answerin’ m'calls?”

Silence.

“Or replyin’ t’m'texts?”

She’s fiddling with the hem of her shirt, unsure of what to say. Surely she can’t tell him she couldn’t stand the chuckles and secret whispers between him and the guys over Harry’s probably now girlfriend. She can’t tell him she’s stupidly fallen in love with her best friend and him denying her would break her. But the way he’s looking at her right now makes her wanna melt back into his arms.  

She needs to say something, anything to end this conversation before she explodes.

“Don’t know how to say this. But I started seeing someone, and I wanna dedicate more of my time to him.”

Harry can’t believe she’s really trying to feed him that excuse.

“Oh really? Does he live here? Is tha’ why you’re in New York? Wha’s his name?” He challenges.

She stutters for longer than she should.

“Surely you’ve not forgotten the name of this said bloke you’re seein’?”

Y/N can feel herself getting frustrated. Not because she’s choked up on a simple name, or because it doesn’t seem like Harry will be leaving any time soon. No, she’s frustrated at the fact that Harry knows her so well he’s able to see past it and know she’s lying.

But she tries anyway, “umm, his name’s, umm-”

“Bullshit!” He’s calling her out. He’s gonna make her say it even if he has to stay til well into the next day.

It catches Y/N just a bit off guard though. But it’s enough for her to reach her limit.

“I don’t have to give you any explanations Harry!” And Harry doesn’t recall ever hearing her raise her voice. Other than at the telly during intense scenes from a show or a film, or when she’s driving.

“I don’t have to tell you who I’m dating. You sure as hell don’t tell me!” She brings her index finger up to poke at his chest. “But that’s okay because you don’t owe me any explanations either. So don’t ask me why I’ve not been coming around because I can’t give you an answer. So I hope you’ll be happy with your new girlfriend and I hope you have a great life together-”

“There was never anyone.” He tries to cut in, failing to stop her ramble.

“-because I’m sure she’s perfect in every sense of the word because you’d blush every time Niall or Louis or Liam whispered to you about her-”

“Tha’ was you they were teasin’ 'bout.” Another failed attempt.

“-and you deserve that Harry, you do.  Don’t worry about me I’ll be fine an-”

She grabs at her wrists to stop the gestures.

“Y/N. I love you.”

“And I know y-.”

That’s shuts her right up. And Y/N was really never expecting that.

“You what?” Almost an inaudible whisper.

Harry takes her hand in his then, intertwining their fingers, staring at how hers fit perfectly into his.

He scans her eyes as he brings his hands to cup neck, thumbs running over her jaw. And he honestly cannot understand why she would think he doesn’t.

His thumb pads graze the bottom of her lip before repeating himself.

“I love you.”

It’s then that she brings her hands to his hips, clenching the grey material of his hoodie.

“Harry, I-”

“Jus’ say it, poppet. M'right here.”

“I love you, too.”

Harry can’t hold back anymore.

So he closes the space between them, lips ghosting over hers. And when Y/N puckers her lips to firmly press into his, he knows she means what she’s said.

With a smile and another kiss.

Harry whisper one last time.

“I love you, so much.”

A/N: Wanna take a moment and say thank you to every single one of my readers, whether you follow or not. Thank you for taking the time and reading this unexpected short trilogy. Thank you for being patient with me when I was feeling uneasy about that second part.

And thank you to the anon who requested this.

I hope whilst you all read that it felt at least a bit real, even the slightest to brighten up your day.

Much love, LouM xx

JugBug || Jughead J.

Word Count: 2266

Warnings: None:)

A/N: Riverdale is my newest obsession and obviously my favorite character is Jughead Jones. I’ve never read the comics but I’ve seen that there he is asexual, however, I’m pretty sure the show is changing him (AKA Bughead) and that’s how I want to write him. I’m sorry if that offends you, but come on, who doesn’t want a little fluff/smut from the mysterious closed-off hottie in the gray beanie? Also, I wrote this at 2 AM when I couldn’t sleep so if it is complete trash, let me know. I value you all comments unless it involves hate. :) 

Sidenote: Thank you to all of the people that followed me after Holy Trench Coat! I love you all so much and you are the best!

(gifs are not mine)


           It was Friday, the typical day that you rejoiced all your happiness because the week was finally over. You didn’t have to go to school, and you could sleep for as long as your mother allowed you to before she decides she needs to vacuum the house and wake you up.

           Normally, on Fridays, You would have a fantastic breakfast of waffles and bacon at Pop’s with a certain raven-haired boy as he typed and you drew, before you headed out to a prison that forced learning upon you. After you would serve your eight-hour sentence, you and sometimes Juggie, if he hadn’t already walked there, headed to Pop’s. Yes, you do interact with people on the way. It is a fair few and normally short conversations as your sarcastic humor is just not appreciated as much as it should be. 

           However, today is different. Your alarm casually didn’t go off and you were rudely awakened by a loud fist slamming into your door. Ever since you realized that your door had a lock on it, you made sure to use it and last night was no different. It definitely helped when your mother decided you didn’t need to sleep anymore.You thought you had fooled her but you were wrong and that was when she began to use the vacuum as punishment and to this day you can’t stand to look at that Dyson Dirt Devil. It even has devil in the name!

           Groaning, you stuck a pillow over your head trying to drown out the banging. After what felt like an hour, but was possibly only five minutes the knocking went away. A soft sigh left your lips as you snuggled deeper into your covers waiting for sleep to overtake you once more.

           However, you were sadly mistaken. The intruder did not go away and just as you were perfectly comfortable, your blanket was snatched off your body and the cold air from the AC unit blew goosebumps on your skin. Your eyes immediately sprung open and you sat up.

           The raven-haired boy didn’t even say anything, but as soon as you stood up his smug expression changed. You watched the smirk drop from his thin light pink lips and his brows furrow.

           “What the hell Juggie? How did you even get in?” Your eyes watched as his hand lifted to show the key that you had given him at the beginning of summer.

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