leftover feelings

fire (jughead jones x reader)

6

pairing: jughead jones x reader

word count: 1139

request: Hiya! Love your blog! Maybe a jughead one where he is dating you but is more in love with Betty than he is with you. He tells you this and just a lot of angst. Thanks!!

warning: there’s a curse word in this, if anyone cares. also this is super depressing, yikes, sorry.

On that fateful day, there were three things you knew for certain.

The first, was that you were in love with Jughead Jones.

You really wish you could just say it was a stupid, teenage infatuation— a high school boyfriend that was nothing serious, but every time you looked at him you felt something that you couldn’t even place into words. Every time you saw his face in the hallways, pictures, down the street, in the distance, or up close— your heart would light up in some way. You remembered that looking at him when you first met felt like your heart was full of Christmas lights. You remembered very clearly, the feeling of sitting across from him at Pop’s, each of you doing your own thing, but sometimes you would look up at him and notice how beautiful he looked when he was concentrating: blue eyes reflecting computer screen colors, biting his soft lip harshly. Even worse, when he looked up at you and smiled.

You couldn’t help it: he was your first everything. Your first kiss, your first boyfriend, first everything. Sure, he was not the first person to call you beautiful, but he was the first person who made you believe it. He would often find you sitting on the roof of his tiny room at the drive-in, crying. You would always say it was because of the movie, but he would always know when it wasn’t. He would bring his hand up to your face, the pad of his thumb wiping a stray tear away. He gave you such a fierce look of sincerity in his eyes when he said it, “You’re so beautiful,” it was impossible not to believe him.

Keep reading

2

mornings after are always tough for robert, especially when he drank from pure depression until he was incoherent the night before. he usually has to deal with a serious hangover coupled with the leftover feelings that he was trying to escape from last night.

somehow he always finds himself wandering into the Coffee Spoon the next morning. the caffeine from his usual pure black coffee helps but what he found that helps even more is the barista’s warm, tender smile when he enters the shop.

mat always gave off a positive energy that attracted robert to the coffee shop more than the coffee ever could. it leaves him feeling warm and fuzzy and… soothed. he almost feels himself addicted to mat’s good vibes, an addiction that makes him feel much better than his…other one.

mat can usually pick up on robert’s serious hangovers & sad moods and won’t hesitate to give him baked goods on the house as well as some TLC. they both enjoy talking about old rock bands, movie references, good music, and the like. they actually found that they had a lot more in common than they originally thought.

the Coffee Spoon slowly became one of robert’s favorite places

I can’t stop watching the video of those Sperm Whales welcoming a deformed dolphin into their pod.

The more I think of it (and I’ve been thinking of it a lot), the more I realise just how amazing that behavior is. Sperm Whales are not prone to forming bonds with other species. This might be relatively common for other whales, but not for Sperm Whales.

Now this particular dolphin might have been picked on and ostracised by other dolphins. Or its malformation simply might have not allowed it to keep up with them. It might have approached the Sperm Whales looking for new ‘travel buddies’, swimming with them, following their path, would have been way easier. So this is clearly convenient for the dolphin.

What’s surprising is that those whales accepted its presence. But there might be an explanation to that as well. There’s calves in that pod (look for the smaller awkward ones). When Sperm Whales swim in big pods they will take turns and while some dive to way deeper waters to hunt, an adult or two will usually stay by the surface with the calves to look after them, until the others come back.

That dolphin might have simply been seen as an extra babysitter, extra protection for their calves in waters full of predators.

So they basically went “Hey you are a little weird, but the kids like you, you can stay and babysit them. There’s Giant Squid leftovers in the fridge, feel free to help yourself”. 

Part three of Halloween AU.

Somehow, for all that his mother warned him, Steve is not prepared to face one of the fae.

She’s beautiful, in that eerie, perfect way that all fae are beautiful. She’s got pale skin, red hair, green eyes. Her ears are round like a human’s but that only means that she’s very old and skilled at glamours. She’s got freckles. Steve doesn’t know why he’s surprised that she has freckles. It seems almost too human like they would be seen as blemishes among the fair folk. She’s tall, too, willowy, almost. Steve’s certain that if it hadn’t been for her glamour, she would have brushed the ceiling.

“I’m looking for Steve Rogers,” she tells Kamala simply, and Steve sees the teen’s mouth moving in a silent prayer as she turns from the register, eyes round with fear. He doesn’t know what Muslims believe about the fae, but he’s certain what they believe probably doesn’t matter when they’re finally faced with one. His mother had whispered fears and cautions about the fair folk in his ear ever since he could remember, and he hadn’t been prepared. He doesn’t want to go out and speak to this fae.

But when a fae asks for you by name, you answer.

The fae looks him up and down, and Steve can’t help but straighten his shoulders and puff out his chest defiantly. He is what he is. He’s used to being found lacking. He owns it. The fae’s eyes meet his finally, and he wavers for a moment when the glamour hazes, like there’s suddenly a wall of heat between them, and he sees skin white as snow, eyes completely awash in green, hair like burning fire. But he keeps meeting her eyes, because he’s not a coward.

The haze fades immediately, and Steve almost stumbles when he realizes the fae is smiling at him. It transforms her face entirely from the blank, judging mask it had been. Her eyes crinkle at the corners and she has laugh lines and dimples. She’s very pretty.

She tells him the name she is called here is Pepper.

“Jim told me that Tony came here, after he was attacked” she says over a cup of coffee after the diner is closed, as Bucky putters around locking up and wiping tables and mopping. Steve’s fingers tighten around his mug. “Yes. I found him in the supply closet.” “He must have sensed that Jim had been here,” Pepper muses. “Jim has been his safe place ever since they met.” Steve wants to ask when that was, and how that happened, because he can’t imagine people taking a grown man, let alone a vampire, befriending a child very well. “You must have been safe, too,” she adds thoughtfully, and Steve sits up a little straighter. “For him to come here directly after he was attacked.” “He asked for a cup of milk,” Steve explains, feeling a little stupid as soon as he says it and this beautiful fae stares at him. She purses her lips, trying not to smile, and mostly fails. “Tony despises milk almost as much as he despises blood.”

That’s an eye-opener, Steve thinks, looking down into his coffee. A vampire that despises blood. No wonder he was always hungry. No wonder he looked so scared after having someone force their blood upon him. “Tony’s very old,” Steve offers after a moment, searching, seeking, but Pepper doesn’t answer. She looks amused. Fae folk usually were when humans tried to trick or outsmart them, though. “That’s—quite a long time to despise blood, when you need it to survive.” Pepper shrugs one delicate shoulder. “Tony’s a bit strange,” she says, as if that isn’t the biggest understatement of the century.

Steve sends her off with an entire cherry pie that had been leftover that night, feeling a little stupid. She’s fae. She probably had much better things to eat, things humans didn’t dare for fear of being stolen into their world of trickery and deceit. He refuses payment when she opens her purse. Pepper looks entirely too amused. “It’s not considered a deal when I’m paying for merchandise, Steve Rogers.” “I was raised Irish Catholic,” bursts out of Steve’s mouth before he thinks better of it.

Pepper stares at him, mouth opened in a surprised ‘o’ before she throws her head back and laughs. On top it sounds like bells ringing in its beauty; underneath, the fae part he knows is there sounds like broken glass being ground together. “I have always been absolutely delighted by the Irish,” she says when she can speak without giggling. “Catholic, Protestant, it’s never mattered. You’re all the same at your core.” “Please don’t ever say that to the devout Irish people,” Steve tells her. She laughs again and leaves carrying her pie. “Do you think she took me seriously?” Steve asks into Bucky’s chest later. “I think if she ever talked to an Irish nun, they would immediately break their vows and commandments to punch her in the face,” Bucky replies sleepily.

The next day, Steve gets no orders except for three meals for the first two hours of opening. It’s very strange. He peeks into the dining room.

Tony, Pepper, and Colonel Rhodes are sitting at a booth, talking, laughing. The sight of a fae at ease fills Steve with a terror he does not completely understand. Still, he manages to snag Bucky’s attention from where he’s wiping down the counter. Bucky tilts his head the way he does when he’s listening but doesn’t want to take his eyes off what he’s watching. “What the actual fuck,” Steve whispers as quietly as he can. Bucky shrugs. “You useless animal I don’t know what I see in you. You’re the worst. The worst. I can’t believe I put my dick in you. I can’t believe I let you put your dick in me.” Tony spews his Coke all over Colonel Rhodes.

Steve belatedly remembers that Tony has excellent hearing. Steve slinks back into the kitchen and doesn’t come out until after the trio has left. “Can I keep this?” Bucky asks of the crisp one hundred dollar bill he holds up. Steve snatches it out of his hand because he blames Bucky for everything wrong in his life.

Steve screams when he steps out of the diner to find Tony there. Oh God. What if he thinks Steve is secretly a racist? What if Tony’s a homophobe? Steve will fight but now that he knows that Tony has a fae backing him up he’s a little worried about how she could make him suffer if he hurt Tony.

Tony looks… hurt. “I thought you weren’t scared of me,” he whispers, as if he’s crushed to find out the opposite is true. “He’s not,” Bucky replies, slinging an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “He’s scared of your girlfriend.” “I don’t have a girlfriend,” Tony says in confusion. “Or—does that mean something different now? Language keeps changing. I guess Pepper is my platonic girlfriend then. Does that make Rhodey my boyfriend?” Bucky makes a wheezing noise like he wants to laugh but even he finds it inappropriate. “The word hasn’t changed,” Steve explains quickly. “Oh. Then Pepper isn’t my girlfriend. I’m actually kind of terrified contemplating Pepper dating or having sex because the fae are so creepy.” “Thank you,” Steve exclaims. Tony frowns at him in confusion. “…You’re welcome.”

Eventually, after staring at each other for a while, Steve asks, “So did you need something?” “Rhodey says I should get your contact information,” Tony answers after some thought. “In case I need help while he’s deployed.” “Oh,” they say, touched, and Bucky begins, ”That’s so—” “He says if you let anything happen to me he’ll drop everything to come back to the states and murder you.” Tony smiles guilelessly when they stare at him. “He wouldn’t do that though. He just talks a big show.” Steve and Bucky smile weakly as they take Tony’s phone and put their numbers in. This precious lamb actually believes that his friend wouldn’t murder them.

“Did they ever catch the guy who assaulted you?” Bucky asks as Tony takes his phone back and squints at the screen, tongue poking out adorably. Tony looks up at him, frowning, then looks back at his phone. “Pepper only stopped by that first time because she was going to follow the trail from your supply closet to find my attacker. I don’t know what happened to the lady that attacked me but I assume that Pepper made sure it was terrible.” “…If she only stopped by that first time to follow the trail, why did she come back?” Steve asks after a moment.

Tony lifts his gaze to stare at him in contempt. “She liked your pie, Steve.”

Perhaps you wonder why everything I write is about you. And while it may seem like an easy thing to answer, like so much of life, the obvious is not always right. I write about you not because I miss you or still wish you were with me or even because I still love you, though all of those are true.

No, I write about you because to not do so is an impossible task. Thoughts of you rattle around inside me, the only things keeping me alive. My heart beats not to it’s own staccato rhythm, but to the faint echoes of your voice that still remain behind. It is not oxygen that my blood carries, but memories of you, flooding every inch of me. When I close my eyes, it is not to darkness but to visions of you. It is your words that suffuse my brain, drowning out my own. The electrical impulses that race along my nerve endings spark with the passion we once shared. As my fingers dance across the keyboard, the only message that ever manages to get through are my leftover feelings for you.

Lunae Lumen

Originally posted by the-wolf-and-moon

A/N: SO I JUST REALLYREALLLY LOVE THE NIGHT SKY AND I ALSO REALLY REALLY LOVE PETER PARKER AND THAT’S WHY THIS IS HAPPENING. ALSO, SHOULD I CONTINUE??? 

Originally posted by spderman

Summary: During a field trip to Nashville, [Y/n] gets trapped in an elevator and things go awry. 


The astronomy club had their eyes on this meteor shower for months. The field trip was planned ages in advanced and offered ten spots. Since you are the most enthusiastic star lover in Midtown’s Astronomy Club-which is saying something since it’s comprised of mostly star lovers- you grabbed the first slot with urgent excitement. And with a bit of persuasion, Peter got the second.

‘Persuasion’ sounds better than what actually happened-you putting his name down without even consulting him. Either way, he eventually agreed to keep his name up and you’re glad because if he hadn’t, then he wouldn’t be at your side now.

The late April air is warm and humid in Nashville, but it doesn’t stop any students from exploring.

Your friend’s hand is swinging close by yours, though never touching, while you each breathe in the sights. On every corner is a street preformer of some kind, and Ned insists that you four stop to watch every one. Michelle tries to act unexcited but in reality she is enjoying herself.

You can tell because she doesn’t have a book or her headphones in.

“How much longer do we have?” Ned asks.

Peter looks at his watch. “Fifteen minutes. We are supposed to meet up with the others at the hotel.”

“Maybe we should turn around then,” you suggest. “I don’t want to be late for the slideshow.”

Michelle rolls her eyes. “You know everything in that slideshow. I’m not entirely certain you didn’t put it together.”

You smile at her mysteriously. 

“Or we can ditch and go to that yummy looking sushi bar,” Ned points excitedly across the street. Peter pushes his friend’s arm down. “I’m not getting in trouble for ditching a field trip again.”

Michelle snickers at your side.

“Don’t be mean,” you chastise but your smile is contradictory.

“Sorry, I’m just recalling how hilarious Peter’s angry face was during all his detentions,” Michelle smiled, shoving her hands into her jean pockets. “I have the pictures.”

“You mean the creepy drawings,” Peter interjected.

“My drawings are not creepy,” Michelle told him, locking her eyes onto Peter’s. “If they are then it’s because you’re the muse.”

“Hey!”

“I’m being serious. You look like you’re 12 and sound like you’re a chipmunk on crack,” Michelle said while you and Ned bit back laughs.

Peter frowned at Michelle with a furious intensity though not enough to be deemed a glare. “What does my voice have to do with it? You can’t hear a voice in a drawing. Hey, Michelle, answer me!”

You and MJ had already begun to walk away, and Ned pulled Peter behind him like a mother and her child.

“I don’t sound like a chipmunk,” Peter mumbles every now and then. “Do I, [Y/n]?”

You side eye him while walking into the foyer of the hotel your classmates are staying at. “No, of course not,” you assure him.

“Thank y-” he began.

“Yeah, you sound more like a pony.”

Peter pouts at you and you laugh, standing on your toes and patting the top of his head. “Whatever, whatever, let’s just go,” he sighed. You laugh and push him towards the elevator.

The gilded doors open up and you begin to walk in after your friends when a lady in a wheel chair wheels behind you.

There isn’t enough space for you and her, so you step aside and let her in.

“I’ll meet you guys up there. Tell them not to start the slideshow without me if I’m late!” you say. Your friends nod in confirmation.

The lady thanked you profusely over and over until the doors close.

You wait a few more minutes for the lift to take you up. When it arrives, you’re in there alone.

The hotel itself has twenty some floors and the meteor presentation is happening at the very top.

You lean against the railing and take a deep breath. The warm glow of the sun filters through the glass wall at your side; it allows you to look out at the bustling city and to the sky.

Ever since you were a small child, you loved the sky. The blueness of the day and especially the darkness of the night. It’s why you’re so excited for this meteor shower.

The stars and the moon felt like your closest companions in some weird way. In a different way than Ned or Michelle. And a different way than Peter.

For a long time now you’ve felt more than just friend feelings for Peter but there was a silent agreement with yourself that you’d never do anything about it. You know that you can’t unless you’re willing to lose someone and you know that you’re definitely not.

But the moon, the sun, the stars; you love them in a way you can’t love family, friends, or Peter. It’s hard to explain so usually you don’t. If you even tried then someone would surely make fun of you for being so ‘weird’ about it.

Weird. Are you weird? You ask yourself that question often. Of everyone you’ve ever known, you haven’t met someone who feels of the sky the way you do. Sure, there are sky enthusiasts but-

The floor beneath you lurches. There’s a sickening thud and then a squeak and then nothing.

The elevator has stopped.

Panic chokes your heart for a second but there is still the sun’s glow on your right cheek. You take a calming, deep breath. Obviously the elevator’s broken down. No reason to be so scared of that, right?

Red lights are flickering now. The power must be out. Twitching numbers on the floor display don’t help you figure which floors you’re trapped between.

You don’t notice that you’re gripping onto the hand railing while peering out the window with hopes of deducing the floor number.

All you know now is that you’re high up and you’re alone.

One step forward and you press the emergency button. There isn’t any sound and the buttons are glowing with little light bulbs. No way to know if it works.

And the red emergency light is getting brighter and brighter.

No. Outside is getting darker and darker.

“…What?” Your voice is the only sound. This shaking realization draws your attention to the city out below. No lights. No cars moving, no lively hum that all busy cities have.

City Wide Outage blares in your thoughts so loudly that you’re not entirely certain you hadn’t said it out loud. You dig into your back pocket for your phone. The screen does not come on despite your charge having been on 80% half an hour ago.

Apocalypse is then entertained by your thoughts. It makes you laugh to yourself because that’s utterly not possible.

Right?

And just what time is it? You know certainly it’s not late enough for the sun to have set.

Your fingertips graze over your cheek. You can still feel the leftover heat. The sun hadn’t set.

It disappeared.

Your phone has slipped out of your hand now. You are staring out the window, looking for something to ease your mind.

Suns don’t disappear. Thick clouds are glazing over the sky and you cup your hands around the glass to adjust your view.

Rippling clouds part away and a blasting white light shines into the elevator. It’s blinding and the emergency light as burst away. The glass of the lightbulb rains against your skin. You shield your face with your hands, wincing as the small pinpricks sheer the topmost layer of your skin.

This light is not warm at all. It’s almost cold. And shadows dance on the floor, like small crescent moons, covering your arms and legs and the walls. Though as cold as this light is, it’s refreshing.

Being engulfed in it feels like diving into a pool of soothingly cold water on a hot day. Like that first lick of ice cream at the beach. Like swallowing small cubes of ice and feeling them trickle down your body.

Every bit of you wants to breathe the light in, swallow it up, lock it in your heart and never let it go.

You stand there for feels like hours but has to have been seconds, unmoving and dazed. You put your palm against the glass, as if to be as close as possible, when the sunlight began to leak into the elevator.

The glass cracks as though rocks are being thrown at it, lines as intricate as veins creeping all across the window.

Nausea wells up in your belly as the light as pale as the moon itself shrunk away.

No! a part of you cries-no, screams, begs, wishes so loudly that Thor in Asgard might have heard it. You want that light back. That blinding, beautiful light. Being wrapped up in it felt the way you imagined kissing Peter would. Cool and comforting at the same time. Beautiful.

God, is is so beautiful.

And now it is gone.

You saw where the sun had been, mixed up behind a huge orb and pulled away. Rays of light slowly pull themselves from beyond the orb and against the window. Through the window, onto you, like they were taunting your loss.

Each bead of sun made the glass window crack.

You step back, your heel digging into your phone which omits a small but urgent snap noise. The joints of your legs creak as if they hadn’t moved in ages. You stumble back and raise your arms over your face to block out the harsh sunlight which makes the backs of your eyes ache terribly.

And suddenly the glass had blown out towards you. There was a screaming sound.

Maybe you’re the one screaming. Maybe it’s the elevator giving in. Maybe you are falling, down, down, down to the bottom of the hotel.

Maybe you will never feel that pale light again.




The hinting drawls of consciousness feels the way a hangover probably would. Your head hurts bad and your eyes feel sticky. When you finally open them, you see chaos above you. 

You’re laying on the ground surrounded by unfamiliar people in paramedic uniforms, lights and sirens ringing in the air along with the loud mix of voices.

“They’re awake!” a paramedic called over to someone.

“Oh, my God! Thank God! [Y/n]!”

You struggled to push yourself up and when you did, blood rushed over your body. You squeezed your eyes shut and shook away the headache.

You immediately remember everything. The elevator. The light. The sun and the moon, the glass-

“[Y/n! [Y/n]!” Suddenly all you can hear was your name, frantically being shouted by different voices, some familiar, others not so much. The person at your side, helping you to your feet, unfortunately isn’t Peter. Your teacher, the astronomy club’s sponsor, looks tired and relieved-

And injured.

Blood trickled down the side of her face, sticking to her hair. She touched it then shook a hand. “It’s nothing,” she assured. “Sit down, sit down.” You were ushered to an ambulance and crowded by so many faces you just didn’t know. They asked questions that you did your best to answer. No one believed you when you told them the sunlight broke the glass. Why would they?

It had occurred to you only right then just how insane that entire moment had been.

“Mrs. Laurens?” you ask softly.

She has been at your side this whole time, telling you it would be all right, wrapping shock blanket after shock blanket over your shivering shoulders.

“Yes, dear?” she replies in an all too soothing voice.

“What happened, exactly?”

In a shaky voice, she explained that the city experienced a power outage around the same time the moon passed over the sun. A solar eclipse, one that had happened without any explanation. These things are usually charted, tracked, and mapped out on places like NASA’s website.

And yet no one had expected this one.

Perhaps the power outage happened because of panic. Maybe it was a coincidence.

You nod, continuing even after she had stopped talking. Her pursed lips conveyed worry.

She probably thinks you’re crazy. Or at least in some type of shock. The paramedics had given you a watered down version of her expression now, unbelieving and worried.

She excused herself to speak with the other students and assure them that you’re safe.

You rub the inner corners of your eyes, recalling the memory over and over again. It had happened. You know it did. How could it not have?

Everything about that had been so terrifyingly real and vivid. You brush your fingers over your chin. Even now you could feel the cold light on you.

Yearning for the light welled up in your throat, thickening your words when you tried to say hello to Peter, who rushed over the minute he had been allowed to.

He must have mistaken the choke up for fear because he slowly enveloped his arms around you.

“Where is everyone? Is everyone else alright?” you ask after the long embrace ended. “We are waiting around a fire truck over there.” You see it the first time he points it out.

“[Y/n]…I’m so…I’m so happy and relieved that you’re not hurt.” Now Peter is the one choking up with fear. “Someone almost died tonight. Someone in a different elevator but when I heard my first thought was of you. And I just kept on picturing you trapped in this fire, hurt and scared. But when we all heard that you were safe I swear I just…” He trailed off. You could see him focusing his eyes on blinking lights in the distance, attempting to keep his tears at bay.

You fold your hand in his. “I am okay. Are you?”

“We weren’t hurt. Well, aside from Mrs. Laurens. She tripped and hurt the side of her head. She got checked out already.”

So that’s why she had blood on her face.

“What kind of eclipse knocks out the power?” you ask, sharply swerving to a new subject.

Peter looks at you like he’s surprised you even knew about the eclipse. “I don’t know. It came out of nowhere.”

“So much for the meteor shower show,” you sigh, popping your lips.

“[Y/n], are you sure you’re alright?” Peter asks. He looks just as worried as he sounds. “Yes,” you told him firmly. “I have to tell you something. I think something went on up there.”

He asks, “Up where? In the elevator?”

You nod quickly.

“Mrs. Laurens already told us…she says you think the sunlight shattered the window.”

From the look on his face, he doesn’t believe it.

You drew yourself away from Peter and he reached out for you. “It’s not that I don’t believe you. But this is all really, really fresh. Everyone will want to hear your story once you’re feeling better.”

“I feel fine now,” you say urgently.

“That’s the shock talking,” Peter points out.

“I’m not in shock!” you argue. Peter tugs the corners of your blanket. “Yes you are, hence the blanket.”

“But I’m alright!” 

You honestly are. Your headache faded away while you sat in the ambulance. Aside from the tiring night of being poked and prodded by paramedics, you feel normal. 

Well. Physically normal. 

Mentally, emotionally, not so much. You’re confused. And the loss of the light feels like losing a piece of your heart. 

The night ended with the conclusion you had fallen against the window, broke it, then passed out. You suppose it makes enough sense. 

And you’re phone is majorly broken from when you had stepped on it. 

Just your luck. 

You were cleared by the paramedics to sleep without any supervision. Michelle is your roommate, thank goodness. She is the only one who believed you when you said you were alright. 

Everyone else had to have countless assurances. You made about a dozen phone calls to your family in New York. 

Unfortunately, this fiasco meant the field trip would be cut short. Tomorrow you’ll all be driving back home first thing in the morning. The hotel had been cleared and deemed safe to reside in by officials so everyone shuffled in hours later, half asleep. 

Ned hugged you before excusing himself to call his mom and calm her down. 

Peter just held you for a long time outside your door, whispering good night in your ear, then walking back to his room. 

“You almost died tonight so I’m not going to make a boyfriend comment.”

Michelle was fluffing her pillows when you toed the door closed. 

You sigh. “Technically that’s a boyfriend comment,” you point out, rubbing your eyes. 

She chuckled half heartedly. “I guess so. Are you really okay? I don’t want to wake up and find you dead.”

She isn’t joking, you see, as she turns to you. You hug her tightly. “Michelle. I’m alright. Seriously. See?” You twirl around for emphasis. 

“Okay…” she says warily. “I laid out some of your pajamas in the bathroom while you were making out with your boyfriend.”

You gape at her. “I thought you weren’t going to make a joke about Peter,” you say with narrowed eyes. 

She held up her hands. “You said you’re okay. I’m just trying to normalize the situation. Go shower up and get ready for bed. We can watch Riverdale on my laptop and fall asleep while admiring all the pretty people. Or we can watch videos of meteor showers since I know you’re probably upset we’re missing the viewing.”

You laugh. “I don’t deserve my friends. I’ll be right out.”

The door clicked shut behind you. You took the first deep breath you had taken all night long.

What a crazy ass day, you think. You drift back into your thoughts while unbuttoning your top. You think of the light and how absolutely insane you must be for thinking all that had happened. 

It couldn’t have. 

You know that. 

Sunlight doesn’t destroy glass. 

And you believed that for a solid three seconds because you dropped your shirt to the bathroom floor, you saw in the mirror a glowing orb in the center of your chest. 

You batted it away to feel only your skin. You bit down on your tongue to hold back a shriek as you realized that the orb is your heart. 

Your heart is glowing as white as that light you saw in the elevator.

How I Fell In Love

Hope you enjoy you can also find this here along with other Drarry OneShots.

                                                -__- -__- -__- 

Every day this year I’ve seen him write in that book. In class, in the dining hall, in the 8th year’s common room, and even when walking down the halls. I’ve never seen him without it. My friends, the few that have returned, and I have been speculating on its content. Some assume it is his form of therapy. Writing down his pain of the war. Some think it’s a drawing or sketchbook of some kind. Even though Harry and I have become friends, I don’t think I can ask him about it. It drives me crazy not knowing what’s in it but unable to ask. I don’t think it helped that I was starting to realize how much I was starting to like him, in a non-friends way.

I found it. I found the book. He had left the common room in a rush that morning and it seemed to have fallen under his seat. I saw it there when I picked up the quill I dropped. I knew I should have let it be, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to see it. I had to know. My obsession was too much.

25-7-98

Dear Draco,
I haven’t seen you in a while, but you are on my mind. You are always there. I find myself wondering what you’re doing, how you’re doing. I find myself needing to see you, but I can’t not yet. I’m mad at you not for being free, you don’t belong in Azkaban. I’m mad that you let your father manipulate you and your mother again. That you would let him put any blame on you when you were just a child. I know he is your father, but I can see he only wants what’s best for him, not you. I am glad he is not in your life right now. I hope you see that you can still have a love for him without following in his footsteps.

HJP

5-8-98

Dear Draco,
I heard you were going back to finish school. I am not sure how I will feel seeing you again. If I’m being honest I wasn’t sure I would go back. Ron has decided he should stay with his family. He’s also helping his brother at the shop. Hermione is going back. She wants us all to go back. I went back and forth between going and not going. It wasn’t until I knew you were going to be there did I make my choice. I don’t know how I feel about that. I don’t know how I feel about a lot of things anymore.

HJP

1-9-98

Dear Draco,
I saw you. I looked at you and I felt no hate, no animosity. I didn’t need to see if you were up to something. I just wanted to see you and I did. I wanted to be close to you. I don’t know how I feel about that. I’ve been friends with Ron and Hermione for years and as much as I wanted to spend time with them, I’ve never had a need to just be near them. I thought I felt that once with Ginny but there was too much baggage between us. What does it all mean? I thought I loved her and I do but I’m not in love with her. I feel things when I see you that confuse me. Is it weird that I have these feelings for you? After everything we’ve been through, is it just leftover undefined feelings or is it real?

HJP

28-9-98

Dear Draco,
It doesn’t matter where you are my eyes find you. I can feel the air in the room when you walk in even if I can’t see you. My heart beats faster when you’re in the room or just when think of you. I look at you and I lose myself. I can’t keep you out of my mind. I dream of you. Thoughts of you keep the bad dreams away. When I walk into the common room and you’re there I find the seat closest to you without looking creepy. I find a seat where I can see you. I can’t help myself. All these years I had this pull to look at you. And I looked at you and looked for all the terrible things. I feel ashamed. If I had stopped for one moment and saw all the good. I see now all the good this that I know I overlooked before. I see how you help the younger kids when they are lost. How you help those that ask for help. How you help your friends who are struggling but are too afraid ask. I see these things now, but I saw them before and I am sorry I overlooked them. I feel if I had seen them without prejudice things may have been different. How would our lives be different? Now perhaps you would not have suffered alone. I am sorry. I am so sorry.

HJP

17-10-98

Dear Draco,
I have tried to define my feeling for you. I have gone over them with a fine-tooth comb. I have compared them to others. I have tried to analyze myself. I have tried to see me through the eyes of others. I have tried to understand myself when I am consumed with you and I don’t know what to think I have no answer. My heart and my mind do not agree. I am just as lost and confused as I was before.

HJP

18-10-98

Dear Draco,
I love you.

HJP

2-11-98

Dear Draco,
There has been a weight lifted off my shoulders. Now that I have concluded that I love you and am in fact in love with you. I feel free. I feel like a new person. I’ve never paid much attention to who I was attracted to. There were people I liked and some more than others. I never felt brave enough to approach anyone before (the irony of that statement didn’t escape my notice). The only two times I was in any kind of relationship the other person made the first move. Okay to be completely honest I’m nervous. I have never really been attracted to another guy. I mean I know when they look good and I’ve never felt weird about it, but it never registered that I thought they were attractive. Now I see a difference. Some people are good looking people but that’s it. Some people are good looking and yeah if I wasn’t madly in love with you would maybe give them a chance.

I just realized you may not feel the same way. You may never feel the same way. I am so hopelessly in love and I may never have you. We are barely even friends.

HJP

20-11-98

Dear Draco,
I have made some progress. We are now on friendlier terms. You made a passing joke yesterday that made me think you might enjoy the company of boys, but I can’t be sure. You spend most of your time with Pansy, but I can’t really judge that as I spend most of my time with Hermione and she’s like my sister. By the way, I told her. Not really by choice she has a way of getting me to say things I don’t want to share. She made me see that things aren’t as hopeless I thought. She made me think about what is important to me. I guess what I’m trying to say is no matter what I want you to be happy. I love to see you smile and that is what I want, for you to be happy.

HJP

I put the book down when I heard a door open. I looked up to see Hermione walking into the common room. I smiled at her trying to be friendly. She smiled then stopped suddenly when she saw the book on the table.

“Where did you get that?” she asked her tone brisk.

“Found it under the chair when I dropped my quill,” I told her. “Not sure who’s it is.” I lied, I knew I shouldn’t but I didn’t want her mad at me for reading Harry’s deepest thoughts. I know it’s bad to lie and snoop bit I can’t have her mad at me not now.

“Oh well, I think it’s Harry’s…” before she finishes I picked up the book and handed it over.

“If it is, then you can give it back. If it’s someone else, then it is now your job to find out to whom it belongs” I smiled at her impishly and winked.

“How kind.” She said sarcastically. She was walking away when I stopped her.

“Did you finish the translation for ancient runes?” I asked her quickly.

“Almost done. Why?” I took a deep breath before answering.

“I’m having a tough time with this one and you’re the only person I know smarter than me.” She blushed at my words and sat down to help me. I knew that if I gave it a little more effort I could have gotten the answer on my own, but I felt needed to be friendlier with her.

Later that night as I laid in bed I thought about what I had read in Harry’s book. I didn’t read everything, but I did skim through It. I saw more than I ever thought I would. Never would have thought that Harry would have any romantic feeling towards him.

I had never been in a relationship with either men or women, but I had fooled around with classmates a few times. It had all been playful and rather innocent. We had been too young to dive into anything more serious. I knew that gender was not a factor for me at an early age. If I found someone attractive, then I just did it was that simple. The last few years had been hard, and dating was the last thing on my mind. But That didn’t mean didn’t notice people. It just wasn’t that important. Now was different. Now I had freedom and opportunities I didn’t have before. I had yet to find someone I wanted. Most of the students still held me responsible for what happened, and I don’t blame them. The few that don’t are either taken or not my type.

Harry was a different story. We had spent the better part of 8 years picking fights and arguing. I always knew he was attractive. He had always been just an inch or two shorter than me which I love. And his dark hair makes his light eyes pop. He was always thin but has filled out quite nicely. So yeah, I think he’s attractive, but I never gave it much more thought. I mean The Harry Potter would never go for a Malfoy. At least I never thought he would. Now I see I was wrong and I don’t really know what to do. I can’t just say something, could I?

Most of the school has left for the winter holiday. Harry and I are the only 8th years here. I have tried to be friends. I have made the conscious decision that I really like Harry and I want to see if we could be a couple. I don’t know what I should do. I have picked seats that are closest to him without being weird. I start conversations. I’ve tried flirting. I don’t know if I should be the one to make the first move or let him.

I can’t take it. He’s either going to accept the offer of a date or he won’t. At least I will know where I stand.

I walk up to him on Christmas morning.

“Happy Christmas Harry.”

“Happy Christmas Draco.”

“I… I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me tonight in Hogsmeade? You can pick the place.” He looked at me for a moment.

“Yeah, sure we can hang out.” He says. I sigh.

“No Harry I don’t want to hang out.” I see his face fall. I lift his chin to look at me. “I’m asking you out on a date. I want to take you on a date. I want to hold your hand and give you a goodnight kiss before you head off to bed. I want us to eat our meals together and study together. And if all goes well then sometime in the future you can be my boyfriend.” He kissed me. Right then and there. Then he agreed on a date.

And we did eat our meals together. We studied together. And every weekend we would take a walk to Hogsmeade and have a date. We were officially dating by Easter and confessed our love to each other. When school was over he asked me to move in with him. One day after about a year of us living together he brought me the book and told me about it. I told him the truth about finding it and reading some of it. I told him it had given me the courage to ask him out. He kissed me and thanked me for telling him the truth. He asked me to read the rest and I did. I read every letter he wrote me and cried.


12-8-2000

Dear Draco,
We have a part of each other’s lives for half our lives. We have grown and changed and become better men. We have seen the worst and best of each other and we are stronger for it. We make each other better. We challenge each other. We push each other limits. And we are there when the other falls. I love you every day more and more. Some days I don’t like you. Like when you finish the milk and don’t tell me or get more. But I always love you. There are days I annoy you. Like when I use your towel and it’s wet when you go to use it. But I have never doubted your love. What I want more than anything is for you to be my husband. When I ask I hope you’ll say yes?

HJP

I looked up at him, with tears in my eyes. He was sitting next to me holding a beautiful silver band with a small emerald on top.

“Draco will you do me the honour of being my husband?” I couldn’t speak. My head bobbed up and down as I pulled him into a kiss. He smiled at me as placed the ring on my finger.

Fin

Don’t Stop

Fandom: Lord of the Rings

Word count: 1151

Characters: Legolas x reader

Warnings: Kind of traditional (sexist) attitudes towards women and marriage.

Summary: You go to your best friend for comfort after your father arranges your marriage.

You whooped happily as you cantered back into the yard, reining in your horse to come to a stop. You grinned over your shoulder at Legolas, who was a few paces behind you. His white-blonde hair flew like a banner in the wind.

“I told you, Legolas. You cannot beat me.” Gracefully, you swung your leg back over the horse, and dropped to the ground. Legolas mirrored your actions, frowning playfully.

“I still say I would have won, if you hadn’t got past me on that corner.”

“Ah, but I got past you because I am the better rider.” You grinned at him over your horse’s back. “You’re just not willing to admit it.”

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