like she just throws herself into his arms fully trusting him

Fic: How Lucky We Are (9/?) (M)

Author’s note: I meant to get this posted yesterday, but it wasn’t quite ready. After sleeping on it, I’ve finally got it where I want it. I hope you like it!

Also posted: / AO3

Chapter 9

Emma rolled over, encountering something solid. Solid and warm. She unconsciously smiled to herself, snuggling closer. Her bedmate grunted, pulling her in, sliding his knee between hers. For the first time in ages, she felt content, happy, her fears far away. Most importantly, she felt loved. Killian loved her exactly as she was; how could she have ever doubted him? Somehow, she’d make it up to him.

“Go back to sleep,” Killian grumbled, fingers curling into her long tresses.

“Sorry,” she whispered, lips brushing his chest. “Just thinking.”

“Well, stop,” he teased, his little chuckle rumbling against her.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Your captain could order you.” He shifted; he still felt sleepy, but another part of him was waking up. What else could be expected with a beautiful naked woman in his bed?

“You forget, sir,” she teased, fingers sliding down his back. “That I am a princess.”

He felt her fingertips bite into his backside, earning her a low growl. “A very naughty one.” He pulled on her hair, forcing her face up. Emma mewled, all too eager for his kiss. He didn’t disappoint her, nipping at her lips hungrily. She arched into him, feeling him hardening against her belly. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Princess.”

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This was sent to me on anon.  I DID NOT WRITE THIS!  Was too good not to share.  So I am.  Sorry if I did not put it under the cut.  Also, if your not Gillovy fans.  This fic is not for you.  Quit reading and move along.  It is RPF.  A sizzling, splendid, wonderfully written RPF.

He has spent the last few hours trying and failing to keep his mind occupied, even sat for a while with his guitar because usually, the gentle strumming of the strings enables him to relax in the absence of anything else even remotely productive.  But even that isn’t enough to keep him busy, to empty his mind that, as the day has merged into night, has become increasingly crowded with thoughts of her.

They haven’t seen each other for weeks – one of the longest periods of time they have spent apart in the years since they finally gave in to the chemistry that has existed between them for so long and turned their on-again off-again relationship into something substantive.  Finally acknowledging that casual fucking was no longer enough, that maybe it never had been and agreeing that maybe, just maybe it was time to finally give an actual grown-up relationship a chance.

And for the most part, it had been a success, or at least insomuch as they had stayed faithful to one another despite the 3000-mile distance that separated them and the all too predictable pressure that keeping the relationship out of the public eye had heaped upon them both.

His life was here.  Hers was in London; and even though he knew it killed them both in different ways, for the immediate future, that was how things would have to stay.

So they both made the best of things; keeping in contact through e-mail, text and skype but still feeling the pain of the distance that spanned a whole ocean every time they had to say goodbye again.

Her plane had landed a couple of hours ago and although he had offered to come pick her up from the airport, her reluctance was obvious and if he wasn’t aware of the increased interest in her back in England right now, he would have been slightly hurt.  But he wasn’t stupid, he had seen the negative attention directed at her through social media, gritting his teeth day after day as hash-tagged vitriol from irate fans had filtered through to his own accounts, a shift of allegiance toward him as though he were somehow an injured party  in all this and it had taken every bit of resolve to not respond, to not defend her as she deserved to be defended.

But he had promised her he wouldn’t get involved and while he didn’t necessarily agree with her own ways of handling it, he respected the fact that it was hers to handle.

So he had reluctantly acquiesced to her request to wait for her in their apartment; assuring him that after a quick stop off to schmoose the publishers, she would have the driver bring her directly over, as desperate as he was to find a way to snatch a few short hours together before her punishing schedule whisked her away once more.  

Nine hours.  Give or take a few minutes.  Nine hours to re-connect with her.  Not a lot sure and never enough for him, but right now he was prepared to take whatever they could get.

Another quick glance at his watch told him that it was now two hours and sixteen minutes since she had gotten off the plane, every minute spent apart from each other another minute wasted to add to the multitudes that had already passed them by over the course of the last two decades when they both lived in a state of such extreme denial of their feelings for each other that love quickly became confused with hate.  In fact, sometimes, given how turbulent their professional relationship became, he was amazed they had ever managed to ever find each other again.

But find each other they had, embracing the giddy realisation that they were both now free to indulge in that which they had denied each other for so long.

He sighs and rises from the sofa, placing the guitar carefully on to the stand that sits beside the huge picture window; a window that affords him an unrestricted view of the park below; a green oasis that sits right in the middle of a concrete jungle, allowing the occupants of this bustling, vibrant city a brief escape from the pressures of life as they find solace in nature.  In much the same way, she has become his oasis and more and more it seems that she is just as necessary to his own happiness.  

He turns away from the view, not knowing how to make the minutes pass more easily, each one an exquisite torture; a promise of things to come.

Where are you Gillian?

No sooner has the question swirled lazily within his mind though, words unspoken in the absence of anyone to hear them, he hears the sound of a key being inserted in the barrel lock of the door, a muffled expletive as the underused key sticks slightly in the mechanism and a grin threatens to split his face as he reaches the door, pulling it open before she manages to get the lock to co-operate and laughing as she gives him a look before sweeping past him in to the apartment beyond, dropping the huge squashy bag she is carrying unceremoniously on the floor.

“That fucking key David…”

She is dressed in a simple white shirt with a button down collar and on anyone else it would probably look slightly masculine but on her it just looks devastatingly sexy, clinging to her every curve, unbuttoned just low enough for him to be able to catch a glimpse of the lace edge of the bra that sits against her creamy white skin.  And it’s enough to make him instantly hard because despite the fact that she is way too thin, the way she stands there, eyes flashing liquid blue fire, her hair escaping the loose ponytail to messily frame her face and an expression that instantly tells him despite the weeks spent apart that nothing has changed between them, she just looks fucking beautiful.

His Gillian.  Fire and ice as always.

He steps forward and takes the offending key from her hand, casually tossing it onto the small table that stands beside the door before cupping her face, inwardly wincing at the sharp contours of her jaw beneath his hands, before bending just enough to so he can place his lips on hers, effectively silencing any more complaints she may have been about to voice.  And like flicking a switch she is suddenly all over him, clutching at him as though she is drowning and he is her only hope of survival, her small hands roughly caressing his forearms before sliding upwards to grasp at his shoulders, an action which necessitates her standing on her tiptoes despite the chunky wedge heels she is habitually wearing, straining her whole body against him, as though she can meld them together by sheer force of her.

In response he simply plants his palms firmly on her ass and lifts her effortlessly off the ground, appalled for just a moment by how weightless she seems, but as she parts his lips with her tongue, insistently demanding entrance, all thought on his part just flies away.

Their tongues wrestle roughly, breaths mingling together in short gasps as they both revel in the exchange of tastes that are both achingly familiar and half forgotten at the same time.  She tastes mildly of stale cigarettes and strong coffee – a combination which, when he had first kissed her so many years ago, had left him feeling mildly repulsed.  But now he just associates it with her and really, despite himself, the taste is now transformed into sweet ambrosia on his hungry palette.

She has wrapped her legs around his waist, trusting him fully to support her slight weight in his arms, and her heels scratch against his denim-clad thighs as she toes off her shoes which land with a muffled thud on the carpet below.  Each movement she makes grinds against his erection, and he knows that it is purely intentional on her part, eliciting a groan from her as the hardness of him teases her through their layers of clothing, squeezing herself around him even more tightly as he steps forward, pinning her against the wall with his body, letting the solid surface take some of the weight off him which enables him to free one of his hands.  There is a raw urgency between them; a need to re-connect with each other that negates even any attempt at gentleness.  But that’s okay because they both know there will be time for that later.

Because right now, right here, it’s just about fucking away the days and weeks where they have been apart from each other, to answer that most primitive need that has grown and built and which now needs satisfying.

She breaks the kiss first, throwing her head back as far as the wall behind her will allow, exposing her throat to him,  the tendons and  sinew of her muscle standing proud against her stark white skin and he hoists her higher burying his face in the vee of her shirt as he uses the flat of his tongue to strafe her, tasting her skin as he claims her once again as his.  His teeth nipping her as he draws her flesh into his mouth, marking his territory in such a way that will require her to wear a polo neck for her event tomorrow.  He knows to stop though when he reaches a level with her jaw, because years of hiding in plain sight has made knowing where the lines have to be drawn like second nature to them.  And so teeth transform into lips and he completes his journey with a series of barely-there kisses, arriving at the velvety softness of her ear, pulling the lobe gently into his mouth, feeling her shudder as he whispers against her, his breath stirring the tendrils of hair that are floating across his face.

“I’m gonna fuck you now…”

And the way she presses her tits against his chest, seeking contact in the absence of him having a free hand to give them the attention they deserve, tells him that she is more than happy to forgo the niceties of extended foreplay, growling into that soft space where his neck meets his shoulder.

She is wearing a skirt, made up of a soft swirling material that gives him easy access when he works his hand between them, arching away from her slightly so as to take a small detour before getting to the main event so to speak, and he can’t help a sigh of relief as he pops the button at the waistband of his jeans, carefully sliding the zip so as to finally free his cock from its uncomfortable confines,  before slipping his hand beneath the bunched material that just barely covers the top of her thighs and immediately centring it over the heat of her sex.

She isn’t wearing panties; and even though he shouldn’t be particularly surprised, the feel of her slick and wet against his palm is so exquisite that his cock begins to throb, a pulse that beats in perfect synchrony with the one now clouding his brain.


The mantra grounds him slightly and although he wants to just bury himself in her he forces himself instead to slide two fingers through her satin folds, smearing her arousal to cover her before pushing them into her, bending them just a fraction at the first knuckle until he feels the patch of rough tissue that sits right at the front of her cunt, fucking her with his fingers and grinding the heel of his hand against her clit on every stroke and all the time she is writhing above him, the sight of her biting down on that luscious bottom lip, eyes closed as concentration furrows her brow that, coupled with the warm fluid that is literally dripping from within her to coat his hand is such a heady combination that he almost comes right there against her.

She smells of sex now – of a desperate desire for him that he doesn’t think he has experienced to this degree with any other woman who has shared his life – and he can’t do this any longer, he can’t wait even another second because he fears he might die if he doesn’t bury himself inside her soon, the pressure now just too much to bear.

He withdraws his fingers, taking his cock in his hand and smearing her juices along its length, gritting his teeth as finally, mercifully, he thrusts his hips against her, entering her with a grunt as he braces his free hand against the wall to give him the leverage he needs.

Almost immediately he feels her tense around him, her whole body trembling as she goes rigid, her fingers clutching and pulling at his hair and he revels in the sharp pain it elicits, knowing she is close, and knowing that she is falling, tightening around his engorged cock as he slams into her again and again.  Later he will tenderly kiss the bruises that have bloomed across her shoulder blades, evidence of their rough handling of each other and he will feel slightly guilty until she tells him to not be; that she needed it too.

Oh, Fuck….Oh, Fuck…..

And then she is screaming out his name, on the back of a series of cuss words that would make a sailor blush, clenching and pulsing around him as she throws her head from side to side, anchoring him inside her with her legs so she can milk the full length of his cock with the powerful contractions, giving him explicit permission to let go, to ride this with her, biting him sharply, her teeth grazing the muscle that bridges the curve from neck to shoulder.

Suddenly, without warning, it’s enough, enough to send him over, gasping her name as he feels his balls tighten and draw upwards into his groin, sweet relief crashing over him as he thrusts desperately just once more before the word explodes in fragments of sheer pleasure, emptying himself into her; filling her; making her his once more.

And it seems like it will never stop; he doesn’t want it to ever stop.

But finally, she slumps almost boneless against him, a dead weight now in his arms that, without the desperate desire fuelling him, now feel weak and shaky from his exertion, but he can’t bear to break the connection from her quite yet.  Instead, he forces himself to keep her with him as he shuffles backward along the few feet of carpeted floor that leads to the couch, sending up a silent prayer of thanks when he feels the cushioned surface bump the back of his calves.  And all the time she is nestled against him like a cat; in fact, he thinks if she could, she would probably be purring right about now.

Carefully he sits them both down, lifting his ass just enough for her to rearrange her legs into a more comfortable position, smiling as she finally lifts her head from his shoulder and kisses her way from neck to jaw to corner of the mouth.  Her eyes are slightly hooded, drowsy almost as she tips her head away from his to meet his gaze.

“Hi, David how are you?”

Delivered in the impeccable British accent she knows he loves and which, despite the fact she is far more American than she likes to admit, will take her a few hours to lose fully.

He grins wickedly at her, dropping his lips to brush her forehead, murmuring against her skin.

Now I’m good.  How’s Peter doing?”

Almost laughing out loud at her response to his teasing question.

“Peter who?”


skreamingninja  asked:


Thank you for the prompt @skreamingninja! I went a bit fluffier after that emotional rollercoaster for the wolfstar prompt. Here’s an eighth year fic for you. Hope you like it.

Hermione was never one to not have an answer. Not having an answer made her eyes twitch, and honestly, that’s just not on. Some may say that she can be a bit too aggressive in her mission to find out “why?” But, hell, she needed to know and didn’t expect anybody to just give her the answers. Hermione appreciated the work that went into finding answers. The rewards were always so much greater. So why was she so nervous about finding out the answer to her current question?


Harry. Did you hear anything I just said?” Hermione asked, frustrated that Harry was not paying any attention to the essay that he was supposed to be writing or her explanation on the 100 uses of frog’s brain, and instead staring off over her shoulder again. “Yea, Mione” Harry said distractedly, a small frown forming between his brow. She turned her head to look behind her and only saw Malfoy at the table with Goyle, apparently helping him with wand movements for their Charms test tomorrow. Looking back at Harry, then back at Malfoy, she sighed heavily. ‘Please don’t let this be like sixth year.’ Hermione thought to herself. She just wanted a normal year where she could study for her NEWTs and not worry about running off to stop Harry from jumping headlong into another dangerous adventure. They finally had peace, yet the look in Harry’s eyes did not suggest suspicion or animosity. ‘That’s curious’, she thought. A bit of investigation was apparently in order.


Hermione had watched Harry closely over the past couple of days. Her eyes too sharp to not notice the small glances that Harry would throw in Malfoy’s direction. If anybody else were asked, they’d just brush it off as old habits dying hard. Their rivalry too well known throughout Hogwarts. But Hermione could see the subtle way Harry’s eyes would soften when Malfoy would hold his gaze before quickly averting his eyes. This was not rivalry, not from what she’d known as Harry best friend for the past 8 years. This was something deeper, that she was sure Harry himself would have a hard time admitting out loud if asked. This was something that she felt when she looked at Ron when he would fall asleep on his chess set in the common room. That scary feeling that even she knew the name of, but would only utter the words when she was sure nobody was listening. It made her anxious. Not because it was Malfoy, who was seen unlearning the toxicity of his past self, putting in the hard work for himself and not his father, yet not asking for it to be acknowledged. No. It was for Harry, who loves so fully and intensely that he could easily lose himself. Who has suffered by the hands of those who were supposed to love him yet never thought twice to bring him down and remind him how much they didn’t care. Harry, who deserves so much rest and peace and good things that sometimes she would stay up at night, tears in her eyes, hoping that Harry may have something good just this once. This was her brother, her best friend. She needed to protect him at all costs. But…she’s learned a thing or two since the end of the war. Harry is a capable young man who is no longer afraid of letting those around him down for the sake of his own happiness. He has changed since dying by the hand of Voldemort. He came back unapologetic. It would not do for Hermione to interfere. She had to trust him and his decisions.

Hermione smiled a little smile to herself, content with the knowledge that she would protect from afar but not come between. Harry caught her smile just then. “What Hermione?” He asked with a chuckle. “Nothing, Harry.” She grinned at Harry’s amused scepticism. She would wait for him to be open with her about what’s going on with Malfoy and it would be ok. He would be ok.


“Mione, can i talk you for a minute?” Harry asked approaching her in the common room a few weeks later. Looking as though he wanted to flee at the slightest sign of disapproval. Hermione put down her book and patted the spot next to her on the couch. Harry smiled in a strained sort of way before settling and throwing up a privacy spell, even though the common room was nearly empty. Hermione chuckled internally but kept her face in an expression of open curiosity. “What is it, Harry?” she asked when he did’t say anything, instead taking deep breaths and bracing himself. “Well, er, I um…I have something to tell you.” He mumbled, scratching the back of his neck nervously. She knew this was the moment he would reveal his development with Malfoy. She could tell by the slight flush on his cheeks and the small tapping of his foot on the rug. 

“Ok Harry. You know you could tell me anything.” She replied earnestly. Harry didn’t deserve to be dismissed or doubted in this moment. It was not only hard for a young man to express that he was attracted to the same sex, but to be attracted to another young man who’d make little old ladies clutch there pearls if they knew his past. It would not do to be anything but supportive. Harry braced himself with a last calming inhale and uttered the words that he feared would end his friendship and the closest thing he’d ever have to a sister. “I, er, I-I’m Bisexual, Hermione. I’ve known for a while now. Since summer, at least. It’s not why I didn’t get back Ginny. I just felt we were in different places. Plus, I’m still attracted to women, I just…I kinda have feelings for a guy and I wanted to see where it went. I wasn’t keeping this from you or Ron or anything. I just needed to know that what I felt was real. And-And I don’t know if you’ll like who I have feelings for, but I just know. I don’t know why, I just do. I feel so alive around him, Mione.” Harry rambled, finally taking another breath and looking at her with uncertainty.

Hermione smiled and looped her arm with Harry’s and leaned back against the couch. He wore a slightly confused expression until she turned and looked at him with a fond smile. He visibly relaxed but she knew she needed to say something soon before he got the wrong idea. “I know why, Harry.” she said softly. “You do?” he questioned, looking even more confused. “But you don’t know who it is, Mione.” Hermione had to actually chuckle softly at that. “Of course I do, Harry. It’s me, for merlin’s sake”, she rolled her eyes at his surprised face. “It’s love, Harry. I see the way you look at Malfoy. He’s changed. I can see that too. I think that it’s time for us to put our childish notions of black and white behind us. It’s ok to love him, Harry. Merlin knows you both deserve it.” Hermione finished looking back at Harry’s face. He relaxed even more and looked at Hermione with something akin to awe. She laughed and nudged his ribs as he joined in. “But let’s hold off on telling Ron for a bit, he will have a niffler.” She sniggered. Not everybody needs to know why just yet.


@inukag-week Day Four: Family 

I know I’m a lameass by titling these things after the prompt word but I’m too lazy to think of anything else lmao

Hands tucked into his sleeves and releasing a wide yawn as he casually strolled into the kitchen, Inuyasha was greeted with the sight of Kagome’s mom humming a jovial little tune while she stirred a pot at the stove a green herb. A discreet sniff told him it was rosemary. He watched curiously as she spooned up a small amount and took a delicate sip, frowning in contemplation, and then finally seemed to notice him hovering nearby and watching.

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So, we don’t know if Fairy Tail is coming to an end or not - sure seems that way, with Zeref and Acnologia seemingly the last huge hurdles to overcome. But who knows? Maybe Mashima will throw us a curveball and there’ll be another arc with Ankhseram or something completely different.

Setting aside that possibility, FT is quite likely reaching its end. It’s been quite a ride with lots of bumps in the road; no series is perfect. Speaking for me personally, I only started tuning in for the better part of half a year now. You can tell me all your gripes about the series, and I’ll still tell you more than a few things I like about it. Even arcs like GMG.

Buuut this post isn’t about that. With the series coming to a close and shippers clamoring to support their ships, I figured I’d post a little something for Natza shippers who might be feeling down about Nalu and Jerza shippers POSSIBLY  'getting their way’. Just consider this a little reminder of some of the reasons you supported Natza in the first place. Out of respect to other shippers, I’ll try and tone down ‘anti-nalu’ and 'anti-jerza’ talk, but it might still come up in a few places. Kinda unavoidable…

First up, these two have history. And I don’t mean 'slaves trapped constructing a cultist tower’, I simply mean prior to the first chapter/episode, these two had seven years together, working and living together at Fairy Tail. That might not seem like much, since Erza became S-Class in X780 and kinda left Natsu and Gray in the dust, but they most certainly associated with one another. Igneel provided a base for Natsu’s education, but Erza built up on that. Natsu couldn’t read the job request flier he picked out on his own, and Erza made sure he could… Admittedly traumatizing him in the process. You want more than reluctant student and teacher? In a manga chapter we got not too long ago, we got flashbacks of Natsu, Gray, and Erza (as kids) doing stuff together; Erza breaking up fights, Erza teaching them hunting… and yes, even the times they bathed together. You might say, “Well… wait. That’s not Natza!” And I’ll agree. I’m simply pointing out that Natsu and Erza have history - seven years of it. It’s not a case of Natsu being 'scared’ of Erza for all that time; yes, he has those times where Erza intimidates him into behaving, but you know that little Pyro. He’s just gotta challenge Erza and catch up to her. Erza’s not someone unbeatable; she just really… really… strong. And of course Natsu admires that.

So now we’re to current events as the series officially begins. Admittedly, it takes a few episodes before Erza gets her debut, but she shows up, and we get our first impressions of the scarlet knight. She’s a tough disciplinarian, but she knows Natsu and Gray well enough to know they’re capable in their own right. Moreover, Natsu really shows determination here as he makes Erza promise to have a rematch with him after the mission. And that’s how they, Lucy, and Happy wind up going on their first conquest of a Dark Guild. Ah, but Erza comes with her own quirks, just like Natsu and Gray. She totes around a HUGE pile of luggage, and to make the train ride easier on Natsu, she… knocks… him… out. Still by far one of my favorite moments of the series. I can see why some might label Natza as a brotp with this kind of scene, but our time will come.

So they beat Eisenwald and Lullaby, and Natsu and Erza get their rematch. Whoo hoo. But their rematch gets broken up as the Council comes to arrest Erza for the destruction of the Guild Conference meeting hall in Clover Town (at least officially…).Of course Natsu won’t let that stand, and he makes quite a scene in the courtroom as he tries to save the redhead. … Well, instead of that slap on the wrist like they’d initially attended, the Council locks the two Fairy Tail mages in a cell for the night. Understandably, Erza is quite frustrated with Natsu’s lack of perception, but nonetheless, she thanks him for standing up for her.

As we’ll discover throughout the series, there are lots of instances where Natsu and Erza are concerned for one another; but moreover, there are plenty of instances where they strongly believe in one another as well. And it’s not just misplaced trust - they DO get the job done, such as when Natsu beats Gajeel and saves Lucy, and when Erza withstood a blast from the Jupiter Cannon for her Guild and still had the energy to take down Aria a short while later. I don’t know about you, but I think that’s a basis for a healthy relationship right there. Worry and trust come in fair shares; as time goes on, these two become less and less worried for one another even in the face of overwhelming odds. They know the other can handle the situation and come out on top; the worry never goes away fully, just decreases in the face of mutual respect and trust.

And then we reach the epitome of our Natza ship… Nalu’s worst nightmare…The Tower of Heaven Arc. I am going to try and sidestep the icky love triangle that Mashima tries to make here - I’ll make it as simple as possible. This arc is where we learn about Erza’s past. Why she is the way she is, why she doesn’t get along with Councilman Siegrain, why she can find it hard to open up to people. Erza tries to keep her Fairy Tail family out of it, but they get dragged into it anyway. She mends bridges with her old friends, thanks to Simon; but on the flipside, Erza acts very much unlike herself here (at least from what we’ve seen up to this point). In this conflict, Erza is ready to throw her life away to protect both of her families. Despite being a seasoned warrior by this point, she can’t summon the same strength that she did when she tried to fight Jose Porla! And she’s in better shape than she was at that time! Perhaps some will argue that this is simply who Erza is - strip away her armor, and she’s a traumatized little girl with a *tragic* past. Ugh. Nope, nope, nope. By no means am I arguing that Erza can’t have her tender side; it’d be hard to like her character if she didn’t have such a side. What I am saying is that when Erza left the Tower of Heaven, she was alone and lost when she wandered to Fairy Tail. But in that time there, she acquired a new family, recovered the strength she once had when Grandpa Rob died and she inspired the slaves to keep on fighting. In fact, you could say she surpassed that strength - she became S-Class, didn’t she? Yet the moment her past comes back to haunt her, Erza horribly reverts; she goes into that fight with Jellal with a defeatist’s mindset. Thankfully, Natsu is up to the task of helping Erza bury her past. He fights Jellal, who is one of the Ten Wizard Saints, who took over the management of the Tower of Heaven, and who killed the mutual friend he and Erza once shared - the guy who made it possible for Erza to reconnect with her old family, Simon. He fights Jellal knowing most if not all of this, even when Erza desperately pleads with him to abandon the fight. Natsu can’t and won’t abandon her, though. In the end, Natsu makes a gutsy move of eating Etherion, and that gives him the strength to beat down Mr. Wizard Saint. Say what you will about that, how the fight 'should’ have gone, but I think it worked very well symbolically. Erza’s past warred with her present and future, and guess which came out on top? The scarlet knight picked herself up yet again and moved on with her life, despite lingering thoughts on Jellal and Simon. We can probably agree that Natsu had similar moments of getting worked up over villains hurting other friends - Lucy (present and Future), Yukino, etc. - but for me personally, I feel like there’s something fundamentally different in how those moments feel compared to the Tower of Heaven. For Lucy, Natsu saving her happens a little too often without Lucy doing the same as much for my tastes (in other words, those hero moments don’t feel as deep and meaningful to me). And for Yukino… well. I think anyone would get worked up over Yukino’s treatment by her Guild (especially her Master). I feel like Erza and the Tower of Heaven is different because Natsu connected with her more deeply than he ever had prior to this; he saw her pain, and wished for nothing more than to end her tears. He panicked after she sacrificed herself to stop the Tower from exploding. And in that dreamlike vision of the future brought about by Etherion, Natsu didn’t believe that Erza had died. Everyone else had given up, but not him. And whose arms does she wake up in, after realizing someone had saved her from being fully absorbed by Etherion? Natsu’s. He even makes her promise not to do such a suicidal move again. On Erza’s side, she recognizes his growth the moment he took down Jellal, and she tried to get him out of the Tower before it exploded. After seeing how affected Natsu would have been with her death, Erza cites that, “You don’t die for your friends. You live for them.” It was a pretty good shippy moment right there, but then the rest of their friends find them and rejoice that they’re all alive.

We can whine about it all we want, but when the Oracion Seis arc hit, that’s when the Jerza ship began to get a little more wind in its sail. After all, the man that brought Erza pain in the past returned, but he had… amnesia. You gotta be sympathetic to a guy like that, right? They had such a tragic past, and now Jellal can’t remember it. What a pity. … Okay, enough bashing. But it is a bit annoying for us Natza shippers; after the high that we got from ToH, we’re suddenly smashed back to earth with Jellal’s return. You can say that Natsu came to forgive Jellal in this arc, but that isn’t the case when you inspect the arc carefully. After all, what’s the first thing Natsu does when he first hears that Wendy revived Jellal? He’s intent on making sure Erza never has to see him again. Not out of jealousy - but out of sympathy for his friend. Natsu doesn’t want to see her cry again, but despite this, Erza finds the blue-haired mage anyway and comes to the dissatisfying conclusion that Jellal really can’t remember all of his past atrocities. Later, Jellal goes off to help Natsu fight Zero, and the Pyro tries to fight him off as well. Sure, Jellal ended up helping Natsu in the end, giving him something equally as potent as Etherion so that he may attain Dragon Force again, but that anger that Natsu holds hasn’t vanished. They’re tentative allies against a greater threat. And when the Rune Knights come to take Jellal and Oracion Seis away, Natsu doesn’t fight for Jellal’s freedom because he’s a swell guy that helped take down Zero; he does it for Erza, because the redhead is conflicted about resisting the Council’s authority. Despite his personal feelings about the blue-haired mage, he tries to resist for Erza’s sake so that the two can resolve their past. Of course, Erza tells him and the others to stand down in the end, and the Dragon Slayer grudgingly complies. Erza goes back to angsting about her past.  

I’m not gonna say my interpretation of events is the one, true way to look at the series. I AM saying this is how we Natza fans see the relationships between Natsu, Erza, Jellal, and Lucy. Some of you naysayers will argue Natsu and Erza are siblings; Jellal and Erza have such a tragic and *amazing* past together; Natsu brought Lucy to Fairy Tail and totally fell in love; you’re perfectly fine with believing in any of that. Just don’t shove your theories down our throats. From a Natza fan’s perspective, such as mine, Natsu brings out the best in Erza; he doesn’t make her think about her past every five minutes or force her to be the ever-shining beacon in their relationship. On the flipside, Erza doesn’t require saving all the time; she stands alongside Natsu, and is a pillar for him when he is sad or has doubts. Natza is mutual, and I think there’s something deeper there than sibling love. Heck, there are still Natza moments floating throughout the series, it’s just that whenever Jellal gets involved… yeah. You can tell what Mashima is likely pushing for, just not very convincingly. It’s fine if Erza becomes Jellal’s redemption, but it’s such a shame that a mutual, passionate relationship like Natza goes out the window in favor of giving Jellal a relationship to go with his redemption. Just look at all the various moments they have together…

So yeah! Criticize the Natza ship all you want, but you’ll never stomp us out completely. Even if Mashima cedes to you Nalu and Jerza fans, we’ll still have all these moments and more to look back on - canon, filler, omake, you name it. I think we have reason to be proud of our ship to the very end. We’re not a brotp or a fanon couple - if Nalu can be argued to be semi-canon, when it wasn’t in Mashima’s original plan, then I don’t see why we can’t make a case for it being at least semi-canon. I’ve certainly reflected long and hard on it over the past half year I’ve been into FT. I’m still going to be bummed if Mashima follows the crowd and forces Nalu and Jerza to happen, but I won’t falter in my love for this ship. I encourage other 'unpopular’ ships to do the same. I certainly don’t mind other ships with Natsu involved; Natza is just my OTP.

At Arm’s Length (Bucky x Reader)

200 followers?! You guys are so amazing! I didn’t cry.. what. 

Anyways… Got an adorable request for a Bucky x Reader! Sorry it’s late! Hope you guys like it!(:


Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his seat, rubbing his slightly shaking hands down the front of his dark wash blue jeans and lightly clearing his throat as he tried to sink into the plush cushions of the sofa he was currently sitting on. After two months of living in Avengers Tower Bucky had finally mustered up the courage to attend one of the teams weekly movie nights, and he was already beginning to regret it. 

The rest of the team looked fully at ease as they were scattered around the large living area passing around large bowls of popcorn, sipping on beer, and laughing with ease as they relaxed around their friends. Bucky swallowed thickly as he watched the team with wanting eyes. He wished he could relax like that. Let his guard down and rely on his teammates as friends instead of people simply stopping him from being the monster he truly was. 

But instead Bucky felt like he was looking at them all through the glass window of a swanky store. Seeing something he wanted with all his heart, but was never going to be able to afford himself. No matter how many missions he went on without a hitch, no matter how many training sessions he made it through without losing control, no matter how many dinners he sat through with a clear mind knowing he was safe… Bucky could never truly trust himself around these precious few who had welcomed him in with open arms, inviting smiles, and trusting hearts.

Bucky clenched his jaw and was about to stand up and storm off to his room when he was suddenly stopped by the weight of a pair of legs being thrown over his and a head propping itself lightly onto his left shoulder. 

Bucky tensed as he quickly inhaled through his nose, immediately placing the sweet scent that was tickling his senses. It was her. (Y/N) (Y/L/N). An assassin trained by the Black Widow herself, but (Y/N) had an advantage. She could read and manipulate people’s emotions which made her an indispensable asset on undercover missions. It also meant she was an extremely touchy feely kind of person. 

After spending all day manipulating and feeling other peoples emotions (Y/N) loved nothing more than to relax by getting as close as possible to people who radiated pure emotions. And ever since he moved into the Tower Bucky had been her go-to. From putting their chairs as close as possible during meals and mission briefings to practically climbing onto his lap whenever he graced the rest of the team with his presence in the living room (Y/N) always seemed to be getting into Bucky’s personal space. 

Bucky usually just pushed her gently to the side. Tried to put distance between himself and the beautiful fragile women he had grown to care for more than anyone else on the team. She was so pure and so trusting and he just couldn’t let her get close to him when he knew what he was capable of doing to her.

But damn if those few seconds when she dared to get close weren’t Bucky’s favorite. He could pretend for a few seconds that he could be normal and that everything could be okay. He could cherish her smooth skin against his. Feel the heat radiating off of another human. He could melt into the trust that rolled off of the deadly assassin like waves. But then he would remember. He would snap back into reality where she was too good to be tainted by him and he would do what he’s been doing to everyone else for months now. He would push her away, slowly breaking both their hearts in the process. 

Today would have been no different as Bucky gently picked her up and placed her on to other side of the couch, but instead of giving him a gentle and understanding smile as she usually did (Y/N) stood up and walked to the other side of the living room throwing herself onto someone else’s lap. Steve’s lap.

Steve automatically wrapped one of his strong arms around his friend as he could (quite literally) feel her radiating sadness. Steve looked down to ask her what was wrong but she simply tucked her face further into his chest. This only confused the super soldier more before he caught the murderous stormy grey gaze of his best friend across the room. 

Everyone knew how Bucky and (Y/N) felt about each other. Her always snuggling up close and him always watching her with protective eyes. It was cute, if not infuriating. And it was something Steve definitely did not want to be in the middle of

Everyone else around the room had quieted down as they could feel the tension simmering between the two friends over the curled up assassin who looked close to tears in Steve’s lap. The only sounds to be heard were the voices of the buddy cops bickering on the TV screen. 

Steve swallowed as he slowly lifted his arm from (Y/N)’s frame and looked around the room for backup from his other teammates. Everyone else, however, simply shook their heads or looked away, knowing full well Bucky’s feelings for the women currently comforting herself in Steve’s embrace, and did not want to get involved.

Bucky stood up from his end of the couch and walked over to the recliner Steve was sitting in. The rest of the Avengers watched with baited breath, wow this was better than the movie, as Bucky stood towering over his best friend who looked too stunned to speak. Bucky’s fists were clenched so hard Steve was afraid his metal hand would dent, but before he could think about that any further Bucky hastily, but gently, picked up (Y/N) from Steve’s arms and held her close to his chest. 

(Y/N)’s head snapped up to look at Bucky, but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead his gaze was set ahead as he carried her back to his previous spot on the couch and clutched her closer to his body, not allowing her to move. 

“Buck?” (Y/N) looked at the soldier with confused eyes. He had been avoiding her for months and now he was holding her like she was his life line and if he let go he was going to waste away (something Bucky wasn’t entirely too sure wouldn’t happen). 

Her breath caught as Bucky finally looked her in the eyes. His eyes looked so vulnerable she couldn’t speak.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered back, voice raspy, trying not to break. 

“Why?” (Y/N) couldn’t figure out why Bucky would need to apologize. She was the one who had been pushing his boundaries, forcing him into positions he might not be comfortable with. 

“For keeping you at arms length when all I’ve wanted is to hold you close.” It wasn’t clear who moved in first, but somehow their lips became connected and didn’t separate until a loud “Finally!” rang throughout the room.

(Y/N) and Bucky broke apart quickly, blushes gracing their faces before Bucky picks her up once again and starts walking out of the room away from their nosy teammates. “I think we’ve wasted enough time already, doll.”


Steve blew the silver whistle hanging from his mouth signaling the newest recruits to take a quick break. They all collapsed on the training room ground, chugging from their water bottles and looking around as the superheroes around the gym trained with ease.

“Dude is that the Winter Soldier?” 

“Better yet is that Inclination…cuddling into his side?!” 

All the recruits looked on with wide eyes as (Y/N) hugged Bucky around the waist as he paused between sets of pull ups and gave him a quick peck on the lips before he pulled her closer and rubbed his nose against hers as she giggled.

“How long does it take before I can do that?”

Steve laughed as he over heard the recruits and stopped them from getting too much further into their fantasies. “I wouldn’t try. Touch Buck and you’ll get ripped to shreds, not even I can save you.”

Clint gave a shiver as he walked by and added, “Touch (Y/N) and even God can’t save you.”


Oh golly geez! I am so sorry this took so long and the end is kinda awkward! My family decided to build/move into a new house so I’ve been kind of busy with that but… I hope you liked it!

As always Requests, Ships, and Preferences are OPEN!

anonymous asked:

how about 4 and 73? thanks!

4. You’re never allowed to drink that much coffee again.
73. It feels amazing… which is exactly why I don’t trust it.

She’s creeping slowly across the room, trying hard to keep the floorboards from creaking, and trying even harder not to stop and look at the beautiful, naked man lying half-covered in the bed she’s vacated moments ago.  If she does, she knows she’ll lose her resolve and be unable to leave.

“Scully?  Where are you going?”  She freezes in place, her hand on the bedroom door, hoping like hell that he can’t see her guilty expression in the dim light as she turns.

“I, uh… I thought maybe I’d go home and change before work,” she says.  His face says he doesn’t believe her, not at all.  He sits up, swinging his long, unclad legs over the edge of the bed, his expression disbelieving.  “I couldn’t sleep,” she continues, and that much is the truth: she’d spent hours after Mulder had dropped off lying there, staring at his ceiling, doing her level best to keep from panicking, to relax into the warmth of Mulder’s body- somehow simultaneously alien, and yet oh-so-familiar- pressed against hers.

“Couldn’t sleep, huh?”  She nods, looking at the floor.  “You’re never allowed to drink that much coffee again.  Not right before bed.”

“That was tea, Mulder,” she says.  He nods.

“That’s right,” he says.  “It was.”  He looks at her pointedly, and she wishes he’d at least put his boxers back on.  It’s somehow harder to lie to him, to pretend she’s fine and everything is normal, when he’s sitting there totally naked, semi-erect and likely still smelling of the scent they’d made between them, the same intoxicating perfume she’d tried in vain to wash off of herself in his sink only moments ago.

“I just… we have to be in the office in a few hours, and I thought I’d-”

“Sneak out while I was sleeping?  Meet me at work and pretend like nothing happened, like everything is normal?”

“No!  Of course not!”

“You’ve got an overnight bag with two extra suits, plus miniatures of all your overpriced toiletries, in the trunk of your car out front.  There’s a fold-up hairbrush and emergency makeup in your purse.  I have a fully-functional shower- it’s even clean, I cleaned the bathroom before I went to England.  There’s a six-pack of your nonfat macrobiotic yogurt in my fridge and coffee in my kitchen.  You can get ready for work just as easily here as you can at home.”

“I… uh… I forgot about my overnight bag.”  

“Bullshit.”  For a moment, she’s worried he’s angry… but then, suddenly, he smiles, and she realizes: he’s been expecting this.  Somehow she feels both guilty and relieved: guilty for doing this to him (or trying to), and relieved that he knows her well enough to anticipate it.  He holds out a hand to her, but doesn’t stand up.  “C’mere, Scully,” he says, his voice gentle, and she obliges.  He pulls her down to sit on his lap- a near-perfect repeat of the night before, her completely clothed and him totally naked.  He nuzzles into her neck, kissing gently under her ear and sliding one hand up under the back of her sweater.

“Scully,” he whispers, “what are you afraid of?”  She shakes her head, leaning on his shoulder.  “Didn’t it feel right to you?  Last night?”  He draws back and looks at her.  “Doesn’t it feel right now?”

“It feels amazing… which is exactly why I don’t trust it.”  He says nothing, waiting.  “I don’t mean that I don’t trust you,” she says.  “I know you’d never hurt me, Mulder.  Not on purpose.”

“Out of carelessness, then,” he says.  He doesn’t look hurt, but he’s stiffened in her arms.  Just barely.

“No,” she murmurs.  “I’m the one who’s going to end up hurting you.”  She sighs.  “I don’t know how to do this, Mulder.  I never have.”

“I’d say that last night is ample evidence to the contrary,” he says, leaning forward to nip at her neck again.

“Not that,” she says.  “I mean the rest of it.  The part where I open up and share my entire life with another person.”  She lets go of him and crosses her arms over her chest, drawing into herself.  “Every man I’ve ever been with has told me.  Ethan, Jack, Daniel… they all said I was closed-off.  Cold.  Impossible to get through to.”  Suddenly, without warning, she’s on the verge of tears.  Mulder’s arms tighten around her.  “I’ll just end up freezing you out, Mulder, and I don’t want to do that to you.  I don’t want to hurt you like that.  You deserve better.”

“Scully,” says Mulder, “I think you’re forgetting something.”


“Have you missed the fact that you and I have been sharing our lives with each other for years?”

“Mulder, that’s not the same,” she objects.

“Sure, it is,” he says.  “Who do I call in the middle of the night, when I can’t sleep?  You, right?  And where do I spend almost every Saturday and at least half of my Sunday afternoons?  At your apartment, and if I’m not over there, you’re over here.  And no matter what time of day or night it is, no matter what you’ve got going on, you always welcome me in and you never make me feel like I’m intruding, like there’s somewhere else you’d rather be.”

“Yeah, but Mulder, that’s for work,” she says.  “You call me with questions about cases.  You show up with files tucked under your arm.  You ask me over here to go through evidence with you.”

“And it typically takes me… what?  Ten minutes to throw the work to the wind?”  He chuckles.  “Scully, I thought for sure that by now, you’d have figured out that the cases I show up with are just excuses to spend more time with you.  And you’ve never turned me away.”  He nuzzles against her again and wraps his arms still more tightly around her.  “You’ve been sharing yourself with me for years.  What happened last night?  Merely a formality.  Long overdue, I’ll grant you… but really, just the final step in a process that began over seven years ago.”

“You make it sound so romantic, Mulder,” Scully sighs.

“You want romance?” he asks.  “How about this?  I love you, Scully.  I’ve been in love with you for years.  And I know you.  I know you’re gonna want to go back and forth on this at least seven or eight times before you’re confident that it’s the right thing to do, so let me tell you now: what happened last night is exactly what was supposed to happen.  Everything we said last night about choices?  Choosing the right path?  Ending up where we’re supposed to?  This is the only right choice, Scully.  This is the path you and I are supposed to be on.  Together.”  

“How can you be so sure?” she asks.  In response, he takes her chin gently in his hand and kisses her, long and sweet.

“That’s how,” he answers.  “I trust the way this feels.  I trust you.  And all those men who fed you that ridiculous line about being impossible to get through to?  They were all too lazy to put in the effort, Scully.  They’re the ones who didn’t deserve you.”  Now the tears are falling, but it’s okay, because Mulder’s eyes are wet, too.

“You really have that kind of faith in me?” she asks, and he nods.  

“You’ve never let me down before, Scully,” he says.  “I know you’re not gonna start now.”  He slides his hands up the back of her sweater again.  “Now, we’ve got almost three hours before we need to get to work, and I think we’ve established that there’s no real need for you to go home first.”

“What did you have in mind to pass the time?” she asks, winding her fingers into the hair at the back of his head.

“I have some ideas,” he whispers, “but you’re overdressed for pretty much all of them.”

“Guess we’d better fix that, then, huh?” she asks.  She grasps the hem of her sweater and pulls it over her head.

“That’s a good start,” Mulder says, bending to nuzzle at the tops of her breasts.  “But by my calculations, there’s still a long way to go.”

“I agree,” she says.  “And… Mulder?”  He looks up at her.

“Yeah?”  She swallows, hard.

“I love you, too.”


Request: “hi can i request an angst mingyu scenario? it can be about literally anything as long as it consists of a lot of guilty mingyu! thank you ^*^ i’m excited to see more of your work !” - @seungchols

Genre: Angst

Pairing: You x Mingyu

Word Count: 2284

Originally posted by jihoonns

Grunting as you walked up the four flights of stairs to your apartment shared with your boyfriend, you dreamed about being wrapped in his arms and just cuddle your worries away. Today went horribly for you, the intern that was shadowing the manager accidentally spilt coffee on your navy blue colored blouse and the salad you were eating for lunch got knocked over which resulted in oily balsamic vinaigrette staining your grey pencil skirt. Your boss was nagging you about a presentation that had to be done by today which lead you into overtime that you weren’t being paid for. The black, four inch heels that you decided to wear, forgetting that these were the most painful shoes you’ve ever owned; left blisters at the back of your feet. A wave of exhaustion hit you as you finally reached your living quarter’s door. While digging your hand into your bag to fish out your keys, you heard a breath gasping for air and muffled screaming coming from the inside of your house.

Hurriedly shoving the keys into the lock (not to mention that you missed the keyhole a couple of times) and frantically opening the door, you felt panic rise into your chest and bubble up into anxiety. Once you opened the door fully, you couldn’t believe the sight in front of you. Mingyu was sitting on the couch with her. The one friend you told him to not get too touchy-feely with. There she was, in your house, with Mingyu’s arm securely encased around her as fake tears, that were dyed black, streamed down her face. The feeling of being uneasy was replaced with anger in no time.

“Mingyu.” You said through gritted teeth watching him as his vision, that was once occupied on the sobbing friend, was now placed on you.

Keep reading

Young!Remus Lupin x Reader: Jealousy

AN: GIF by: JustAndrewGarfieldGifs

Request: Anonymous

Warnings: N/A

Remus Lupin tried his best to be the most positive person he could. Besides his monthly moon problem, he had a cute and sweet little girlfriend that he was crazy about and some really great friends. However, when the two mixed, it created issues for him. One issue in particular: Sirius Orion Black.

Moony’s friend Sirius was Hogwarts’ designated ladies’ man. He had the bad boy charm and irresistibility that allowed him to take home any girl he wanted. And Sirius most certainly wanted to take home any and every girl he desired. But Remus didn’t want to take home any girl. He wanted HIS girl. His Y/N was the only one that he was interested in, and in his mind Sirius could sod off and find another girl to fancy.

But Y/N thought that Sirius was wickedly hilarious and thrilling to boot. The two were good friends, and as much as Remus loved seeing Y/N laugh, he felt the tiniest bit really jealous. A part of him was warmed that she got along with his friends, but another part wished to be the only one to make Y/N laugh until tears sprung out of her eyes.

In comparison to Sirius, Remus felt boring. He didn’t have the long, dark locks that girls wanted to run their fingers through. His hair was messy and stuck out in odd places. Sirius could flirt like it was second nature. It took Remus months to get the courage to talk to Y/N for the first time. The fact that Y/N seemed so intrigued with Sirius made Remus feel like she was going to slip right out from underneath his fingers. He loved her so very much, and if she left, he would be crushed. But there was no way that he would be so overprotective as to decide which people she could hang out with.

So as of late, Remus had been pouting. His hazel eyes were tired from staying up late at night studying during recent finals weeks. He had a bit of stubble, some five o’ clock shadow which was more adequately deemed “3 AM shadow.” His undereye circles were dark, and all Remus seemed to do as of late was brood.

Y/N was beyond worried. At breakfast, she poured him a cup of tea and gently set it in front of him to let it steep. With his head in his arms, face down to the table, Remus hadn’t spoken a single word that morning. He seemed to be terribly tacit in the last few weeks. Initially, Y/N thought it was because he was overwhelmed with his studies. But she knew Remus well and that wasn’t just it – something else was bothering him.

“Moony, how many uses are there for the Draught of Peace?” James asked, bent over late and incomplete homework.

Remus gave no indication that he heard James.

“Moony.” Prongs tried once again. “Moooonnnyyyyy.”

Nothing. Y/N flattened down the wild hairs on the back of Remus’s head, petting his hair softly. Her eyebrows furrowed in worry and her bottom lip poked out ever so slightly. James scowled, scrunching up his nose, and was ready to throw his pot of ink at the disheveled boy but Y/N didn’t permit him.

“Seven, James.” She responded. “That we know of.”

Prongs still looked irritated, narrowing his eyes at Remus’s sleeping figure, and then turned back to his homework. Y/N sighed softly.

“What’s got his wand in a knot?” Sirius asked through a mouthful of eggs.

“He’s been working very hard, guys.” Y/N explained, taking the seat beside her love. “Let him sleep.”

“Working hard on being a prat.” Sirius scoffed. “He’s not sleeping at all, I can see him blinking through his arms. Oi! Talk to us, mate!”

Remus could feel himself tense up with anger, and his eyebrows sunk into an irritated expression.

“Bugger off.” His voice was muffled since his head was buried in his arms.

“You ass, you were just going to let me turn this in with the wrong answers!” James said, cross at Remus.

“He’s been a real tosser lately.” Sirius said, dismissively. “Can’t even-“

“Leave him alone, you guys.” Y/N interrupted. “You don’t understand.”

“Make time for his own girlfriend.” Sirius finished. “No wonder you want to spend all your time with me, Y/N, since Moony’s got a scorpion in his trousers, at least I have the energy to make you laugh-“

Remus had blown his top off, and steam seemingly poured out of his ears. He pushed himself up from the table and smashed his teacup in his fist. Y/N let out a shriek, and James and Peter jumped back as little pieces of porcelain scattered across the table. Sirius sported an incredulous look.

“I said BUGGER OFF!” Remus shouted. His hands shot out to grab his books, and Y/N winced at his sudden motion. “And no, Y/N, it’s YOU who doesn’t understand. If you like him better, then just LEAVE. ME. ALONE.”

He huffed off, and Y/N looked as though she had just been slapped in the face. She had tried her best to understand Remus, and obviously had misinterpreted what he had been experiencing. It felt as though a giant fissure went through her heart, and she wondered for a few moments whether or not the two were still together. Sirius snorted, pissed off, and left in the other direction. Peter looked around nervously, wondering with whom he ought to go.

James placed a reassuring hand on Y/N’s shoulder, as small droplets spilled from her eyes.

“He doesn’t mean it, Y/N, he’s so crazy about you.” Prongs comforted. “He keeps all your letters in his bedside table. He’s got photos of you two on a string above his desk. Really, he’s a changed man when he’s with you, he’s just frustrated. I’m sure he’ll come off it soon.”

Y/N nodded, solemnly, and James walked her to her morning classes with a protective arm slung over her shoulder. Her heart felt blank. All day, it seemed as though her energy was sapped away. In the evening, she sat in the common room with an essay in front of her, ink dropping into pools on the parchment from her quill.

She hadn’t seen Remus since that morning. He’d skipped the classes that they had together. James was at Quidditch practice. Sirius had dragged Peter with him to try and sneak into the girl’s locker room. Y/N felt very alone. She rested her chin on her crossed hands and watched the black ink drip from the fine tip of the quill. Drip. Drop.

She nearly screamed when a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around her shoulders.

“It’s me, love. You’re okay.” A soft voice whispered, barely audible.

His smell of hot chocolate and sweets slipped into Y/N’s nose, clouding her mind. Her heart swelled as if it had been puffed up by an air compressor. While it was only a day that the two were apart, she craved his touch again. Missed his scent and the kisses he was pressing on her cheek.

“I’m so, so sorry my love. I feel, damn awful to be blunt.” Remus explained. “It’s all my fault. I get jealous when I see you next to Sirius because I feel inferior next to him. Like one day you’ll just wake up an’ realize that he’s better, and you’ll be gone just like that.”

Tears slipped down his cheeks.

“Remus…” She said, softly.

“I know it’s not fair of me, and I trust you fully. I’m not trying to pry you two apart. I just want you to be happy.” He continued, his nose becoming stuffed and his body being wracked with emotion. “But I- I can’t lose you, Y/N. I love you so much. You’re my soul mate. I can’t lose you, baby.”

Y/N turned around and threw herself at her boyfriend. She smoothed back his hair, and clutched the fabric of his sweater in her hands. The two held each other for a long time, and kissed very passionately when their embrace ended. Y/N took his glasses off his face and wiped his tears away. With the quill still dripping, the pair migrated to the couch, saying nothing but drinking in the company of one another as they cuddled.

James and Sirius burst quite loudly into the common room, with Peter trailing at their heels. They laughed big, belly laughs, and James set his equipment down on a chair, when he noticed Remus and Y/N. They were snuggled together, and had fallen asleep by the warmth of the fire. Rolling his eyes in mock disgust, Sirius snagged a blanket from the opposite loveseat, and draped it over their sleeping bodies.

“Oh love.” James said, fluttering his eyelashes. “How truly… revolting.”

“D’you wanna put frogs in his bureau?” Sirius asked, pointing his thumb at the sleeping Remus, who was holding Y/N tighter than ever.

James looked at the pair for a long time, before turning to face Sirius.

“Draught of Peace, my ass.” He said, finally, drawing his wand with a wicked grin.

And the boys set off to cause trouble, as the loving couple dreamt contentedly.

finding myself in your arms (and bed)

hello! this is my first PJO fanfic so I hope I got the characters mannerism correct. this is based off a post by @fanfiction4geeks . I thought it was a perfect set up and found myself writing it. Hope you enjoy!

Annabeth wouldn’t exactly call herself adventurous when it came to college parties. Especially parties that included drinking contests which resulted in someone retching on the beautiful carpet floor of a fraternity home. But Annabeth also wouldn’t call herself an uneventful person. She did plenty of interesting things in her free time. She knit, read books, killed monsters, went to the coffee shop with her friends, hung out in the park, and kept up with the latest of TV. Trust her, Annabeth was anything but boring. And the monster part? We’ll get to that later.

Tonight, however, Annabeth felt a strange surge in her bones when her best friends, Piper and Thalia, had dragged her along with them to the final college party of the season. She’d protested, of course. Made stupid excuses like her latest project was due the next day or one of her siblings birthday was tomorrow. Neither excuse had worked, which meant Annabeth found herself wondering around the giant halls of the biggest fraternity house on campus.

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The Terminal, XII

You belong among the wildflowers
You belong somewhere close to me.

The elevator was broken, still. Guts half spilled into the hall, the skeleton sat there in the cave while the rest of a new one slumbered in crates in the lobby. She wasn’t certain she’d ever considered how long it would take to put together an elevator, which then, naturally, led her to questioning how long it might take to put together most things, which in and of itself had been quite a burden for the past three weeks. She’d thought it’d be put together when she got back, but Lexa found herself squeezing between the precariously tipped monstrosities setting up camp in the building upon her return.

“Is someone getting a carnival delivered?” Henry followed, lifting the box and twisting to get the duffle on his shoulder through the crevice of the cavernous lobby.

“They’ve been fixing the elevator for fifteen years,” Lexa sighed.

“Don’t tell me.”

“It’ll be a good work out for you. You’ve been saying you wanted to get a little more in shape.”

“I have never said that. Ever in my life.”

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"Can you come pick me up please?" Another Lucaya AU

The mass of sweaty bodies surrounding Maya seemed to be growing larger by the second and she was beginning to overheat. Her sweaty curls were now clinging to her face and the pair of heels that she was wearing squeezed her toes too much to be considered comfortable. She began to inch her way towards the edge of the crowd of gyrating teenagers to get some fresh air. When she finally made it out of the crowd, a sigh of relief escaped her lips. She made her way into the less packed, but still crowded kitchen to retrieve another drink.

“Where are all of your friends?” A deep voice asked her as he handed her a red cup.

Maya accepted the cup wearily and sniffed it before taking a sip because goddamn she was parched. She glanced up to see that the boy was a senior from her school who she thought she recognized as one of Lucas’s teammates. “Riley and Farkle are off somewhere playing tonsil hockey.”

“And Lucas?” He prompted, only reinforcing Maya’s assumption. “I’d think he would be following you around like the lost puppy he always is around you.”

She felt her face grimace at his comment and shook her head. “He didn’t come tonight. Said something about needing to study for a trig test on Monday.” Bored of the conversation, she began looking around the kitchen and noticed that it was a lot emptier than it had been moments before when she had entered it. “Besides, he does not follow me like a lost puppy.”

“I don’t know about that,” the tall boy laughed. Maya wasn’t sure of his name, but she thought it started with a J. He let his eyes roam her small body up and down, lingering in certain places far too long to be considered decent. When he met her eyes again she could see a darkness that made his brown eyes seem almost black. “Those heels do a number for your legs.”

Maya felt a shiver run down her back and instinctively took a step away from the suddenly menacing football player. “Listen, I better go find Riley. It’s getting awfully late. It was nice talking to you, um-”

“You don’t even know my name? Miss Hart, I am hurt.” He frowned in mock disappointment. Maya continued backing away until she was cornered by a counter and the refrigerator. “Don’t worry, short stuff. I can have you screaming it in just a matter of minutes.”

A burning anger took over the petite blonde’s body and she glared at the horny senior in front of her. He was positioned so that his arms were against the counter tops on either side of her and his face was a mere inches from hers. She looked him fiercely in the eyes and pushed his body away from hers. “I will not be screaming anyone’s name tonight, buddy. Now back off and let me go find my friends.”

He laughed at her mockingly, but did not move his face close to hers again. “Your friends are gone, pretty lady. It’s just you and me now.”

That was it. Maya stomped her heel down on the boy’s foot and then immediately thrust her knee up to hit him where it hurt, and boy did it sound like it hurt. “Listen closely. You are nothing but a pig and no girl at this school will ever be with you after I have something to say about you, ya hear me? So back off, and don’t ever try to corner me again.”

She ducked under his arm and strutted away out the front door, pulling out her cell phone as she did. She asked someone along her path if her friends truly had gone home and they confirmed the asshole’s words, so she called the only person she could think of that she trusted with a license to get to this remote party. “Lucas, can you come pick me up please?”

At some point in the twenty minutes that it had taken Lucas to get to the party, Maya had begun to feel a bit worse for wear. If she had had the energy to pick herself up she might have marched back into the house and called the guy out for spiking her drink, but she was using every last bit of energy she had to stay awake and cognizant. When Lucas finally did arrive, he jumped out of his car quickly and ran to where Maya was sat leaning against a tree in the front yard.

“Maya, are you alright?” He asked frantically. “What happened to you? Are you drunk?”

She hadn’t explained anything to him on the phone, knowing that if she had he would have probably gotten pulled over for speeding, or maybe worse. He looked at her with worried sea foam eyes and began checking her whole body for a sign that she was hurt. “Mm fine,” she slurred, barely able to get that out. “Just take me home.”

He shook his head, but wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her anyways. He carried her bridal style towards his car and cursed under his breath. “I can’t take you home like this, Maya. Your mother would kill you. You need to tell me what happened because I have never seen you this drunk in your life.”

She buried her face into his chest and groaned, feeling a pounding headache surge through her skull. “Don’t feel good,” she mumbled right before she spilled her entire stomach all over his gray shirt and all throughout her hair.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he managed to open the car door with his foot. He set her down in the passenger seat and noticed an elastic on her wrist. He gripped her hair into what sort of resembled a ponytail and sat it on the top of her head to avoid any more throw up from soiling it. He then made his way to the trunk of his car and emptied a bucket of baseballs he kept in it. He brought the bucket back over to the pale blonde and handed it to her. “If you need to be sick again, use this.” He then peeled off his shirt and threw it on the lawn, leaving it there. It was never one of his favorites anyways.

Lucas drove as fast as humanly possible without getting ticketed back to his house, periodically checking on his passenger. She only threw up into the bucket twice more before they reached their destination. He helped her out of the car and up the stairs into his house as quietly as possible as to not alert his mother of their presence. When they made it safely to Lucas’s room he let out a sigh of relief, leading Maya to his bed.

“Mind telling me what is going on now?” He asked worriedly, handing her a bottle of water that he had picked up on their way past the kitchen.

She took a big slug and met his eyes with her own cloudy blue ones. “I think I got roofied,” she laughed humorlessly.

His eyes went wide and she saw his muscles visibly tense. “What did you just say?” He boomed. “Why wouldn’t you have told me that while we were there so I could have kicked that guy’s ass?”

She smirked and shook her head. “Relax Huckleberry. I did that all by myself.”

He rolled his eyes and looked at her. “Of course you did. What was his name? Who was it?”

She shrugged and took another gulp out of the bottle. “Not sure. Tall, dark, not so handsome. Can we not talk about it please, I dealt with it myself.”

He sighed, but decided to let it go. For now. “Why don’t you go wash the throw up out of your hair and change?” He suggested, grabbing her one of the shirts from his drawer. “No offense, but you kind of smell.”

She laughed and rolled her eyes, feeling a bit better from the water and cleansing of her stomach. “Gee, thanks Lucas, that means a lot. I’ll be right back.” She accepted the light blue T-shirt from him and made her way to his bathroom.

When she shut the door behind her she let out a sigh before looking at the mirror. Her mascara was running all down her face and her messy hair had chunks of her own throw up in it. She looked almost as horrible as she felt. With another sigh, she took Lucas’s make-do ponytail out and put her head into the sink, washing her hair. She took a bottle of his shampoo and made sure that her hair was fully clean before stripping her tight silver dress off and removing her stockings. She slipped the shirt that Lucas had given her over her wet head and smiled when the soft cotton hit her skin. She smelt like Lucas and already she was feeling a lot better. The shirt reached almost to her knees and she felt quite warm despite the temperature outside. Finally, she washed the remaining makeup off of her face and took a deep breath. She stepped out of her heels and carried them, along with her dress and stockings, back into Lucas’s room.

When she returned, he was still pacing his room seemingly fuming. He looked up when he heard her shut his door and instantly stopped to stare at her. His mouth dropped slightly but he caught himself and reached up to rub the back of his neck and cleared his throat. “Do you feel any better?”

Maya nodded and laughed softly to herself when she noticed he was still shirtless, wearing a pair of old sweatpants that said “Texas A&M” on them. “A little bit. Thanks for the shirt,” she said softly.

“Yeah, uh no problem.” They both stood there a moment, staring at each other. “You can have the bed,” he finally said, walking towards the door. “I can just go sleep on the couch. My mom won’t wake up until around noon so it won’t matter-”

“Lucas,” she cut him off. He stopped his rambling and looked at her. “You don’t need to sleep on the couch.”

“Really, it’s fine. Honestly it’s kind of comfortable.”

“Lucas.” She said a bit more certain. “I think I would feel a lot better if you slept next to me.”

And it was true, she would sleep better. Although she acted all strong and tough girl, sometimes she needed someone to be there with her. She still felt some of the effect of the drug in her system and she knew that she didn’t want to be alone right now. Lucas searched her eyes for what seemed like minutes before slowly nodding and leading her to the bed. He pulled back the covers and let her crawl in first. He laid down next to her, unsure of what to do with his limbs until she cuddled into his bare chest. He cringed slightly at the feel of her wet hair, but then wrapped his arm around her back and pulled her tightly against him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Maya,” he whispered softly into her wet mop of hair.

She pulled back from him and looked him in the eyes. “You were there for me, Lucas. You came to get me with no questions asked when I needed you and now you are letting me stay here, in your bed with you, just so that I don’t have to go home and be alone. Thank you, Huckleberry. I owe you big time.”

She let her face fall back into the crook of his neck and tangled her legs with his. He was very glad she did because it meant that she couldn’t see the giant grin plastered on his face from her words, heating his cheeks, but boy could she feel it.

Little Miss Romanoff (Pt.2/?)

Originally posted by leafierleaf

Summary: Being Natasha’s younger sister meant you were just as mean, just as sarcastic and just as willing to get your guy. However you start losing concentration due to a certain super soldier. ReaderxBucky

Warnings: Little bit of violence by my side, a little bit of Bucky for my life. A little bit of Steve-o here I am,…Sorry where were we?

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Another reason why Shadow and Rouge’s relationship is so compelling

I talk a lot about Rouge’s effect on Shadow throughout the games, but I also think it’s important to talk about Shadow’s effect on Rouge. Because the more I look at the evolution of their relationship throughout Sonic Adventure 2, Heroes, ShTH, and ‘06, the more I become convinced that Rouge has never actually has a real friend until Shadow.

This is a woman who is a government spy - already not exactly conducive to friend-making - as well as a jewel thief, who deliberately acts and dresses to make people misread her true intentions. When she first meets Shadow, neither of them trust or even like each other much - she’s only there to spy on him, and he is trying at that point to literally destroy the planet. I’m pretty sure she only really saw him as a violent psychopath and dealing with him just “a part of the job” at first, right up until:

- he rushes back, with literal seconds to spare, to save her from being caught in the Prison Island explosion.

He tries afterwards to play it off as “I was just after the Chaos Emeralds,” but she reads him correctly. There’s “more to it” as she says - the thought of her dying when there was something he could do to prevent that was giving him vivid flashbacks of Maria’s death. I think that was the first moment that she started to realize - maybe without even being able to admit it to herself - that there was something deeper to him. He cared about more than just destruction.

Their last interaction in that game is a pretty terrible argument in which they both throw venomous barbs and insults at each other, he calls her a “pathetic creature” and Rouge strikes pretty hard at what she thinks might be one of Shadow’s biggest insecurities - the thought that “Shadow” might not even truly exist. It’s honestly painful to watch, and they definitely do not part in that game on good terms. Yet in the very end, she’s the first one to ask where he is, and seems to be holding back some amount of sadness at his “death.” She seems comforted by Sonic’s assessment of Shadow as having been a hero in the end, and tells Knuckles that she’s thinking of something better than jewels now. I fully believe that something about Shadow’s heel-face turn at the end really moved her, even if she didn’t quite know how to process it yet.

Cut to Sonic Heroes, where she randomly finds him in stasis inside one of Eggman’s bases, and the first thing he does upon release is tackle her out of danger once again. And then she learns that he has amnesia - he remembers absolutely nothing of what happened before. So what does she do? She immediately insists on teaming up with him so they can go after Eggman together. Like, there’s some tactical smarts in that - they’d have a better chance together - but we also know Rouge is a master infiltrator, she probably could have handled sneaking in alone vs. trying to work with Shadow’s more explosive style. Honestly, I think she was seeing this as a chance for both of them to make a better first impression on each other. She was getting to see his true personality emerge, without all the baggage, and he likewise saw her right off the bat (ha) as a friendly ally rather than a suspicious tagalong.

Her attitude toward him in this game is completely changed. All their conversations are quite friendly and civil, they seem to trust each other easily, and they even banter back and forth a couple times. She’s normally good at hiding her true emotions, but she expresses genuine concern when he discovers the broken Shadow Android:

And at the end when she discovers the room full of them, this is her reaction:

She’s so genuinely upset that the Shadow she’s found might not be the real one - the one she grew to admire despite herself back in SA2. Like, she brushes it off quickly, but she’s still clearly affected by it. She thought she’d found a new friend, and is now afraid that she’s just found a dime-a-dozen robot replacement.

There isn’t a ton of content involving her in ShTH compared to the other games, but she is the only character to appear in three different levels as a potential ally (the only one who gets more than her is Sonic, but that’s not surprising since the game is a Sonic spinoff), and just like in SA2, she’s the first to wonder aloud if Shadow is okay at the end. Eggman also confirms during the final battle that he is the real Shadow, not a copy, and while we don’t see Rouge’s reaction to that, it’s safe to assume based on Heroes that she’s rather happy to hear it.

Then, in Sonic ‘06 she seems rather miffed at Shadow’s professionalism at first, complaining that he’s “always business.” It seems to me like she was expecting Shadow to be more like he was in Heroes, friendly and interested in talking to her, now that the traumatic experience of the Black Arms invasion is over. As I’ve discussed before, during that game he starts pushing his friends away due to the trust issues he’s having at the time (courtesy of Mephiles), yet as he pushes her away time and time again she’s always trying to break through. There are multiple shots of her literally reaching out to him as he walks away from her.

Like there is not a better visual representation of their conflict in this game. It’s not that he suddenly dislikes her, he’s just pulling away out of fear. And she wants to help him so much! She gets visibly frustrated every time he walks away like this, yet when he returns she’s always friendly and eager to help.

And when she witnesses his doubt come to a head upon hearing Omega’s confession, she delivers one of the best lines in the game, which I will never ever forget: “Even if you believe everyone in the world will be against you, know that I’ll always remain by your side. Remember that.”

Look. Rouge is not the kind of person to open up like that. Every time before this that we’ve seen her express genuine emotion, she covers it up immediately afterward with some snarky quip or gesture. She slips the mask back on. This is the first time she doesn’t do that. She makes Shadow a solemn promise of friendship, straight from the heart - and Shadow accepts it, and that’s that. The scene ends on that heartwarming note, directly before the final confrontation.

Rouge, to me, acts like someone who has put up that mask all her life because she’s learned that people don’t like the real her. She’s a thief, she’s a spy, she’s often selfish and appears to have little regard for others. Until Shadow comes along. That’s when we see what she’s been hiding all along - that secretly she’s always had a heart of gold, she had so much love to give but no one to give it to. But post-SA2 Shadow never underestimated her, never judged her, always trusted her. Our very first introduction to Rouge in the series is her stealing the Master Emerald while loudly proclaiming “All the world’s gems are MINE to keep!” In ‘06, she gets her hands on a glittering, beautiful Chaos Emerald and wastes no time immediately sending it forward in time to save Shadow’s life. Like, she doesn’t even hesitate. She would have had this happened back in SA2, but by the time ‘06 rolls around she’s found a friend, and she’s not about to let that go, because she’s realized that she likes friends far more than gems.

“I’ve got something better than jewels that I’m thinking about right now.” I think that’s what she was referring to after Shadow’s death.

tl;dr Shadow inadvertently shows Rouge the Power of Friendship™ over the course of the series which has a huge impact on her character development and leads directly to her declaration of loyalty in ‘06 and also gives me all the emotions

Trolls: “A Night of... Switching.”

I kept my promise. uwu This little fic is based on an headcanon of @lusty-laverne (Me and my best friend had this headcanon too. XD I was really surprised when I read it on their blog, we aren’t the only ones!). 

There weren’t fics on this? Well, now there’s a fic on this. OwO I had fun writing this piece. Hope you all enjoy! :D

Warning: Smut (r-18), dom!Poppy and sub!Branch (’cause yeah, that’s the whole point of this one shot), strap-on.

Couple: Branch x Poppy.

Also thank you for the 328 followers. <3 

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squares, triangles, and other shapes; ch1: definitely dating. definitely not lying about it.

alternate title: the most convoluted fake dating au of all time

on Ao3 | on ffnet

(that’s one hell of a title) 

i was lucky enough to hear about @chatuoir​’s incredibl(y messy) double fake dating au a month or two ago! we did a lot of screaming about it, which was always fun. anyway, lucia was awesome enough to let me try my hand at it, so here we are.

this is definitely the most complex thing i’ve written for the fandom, purely because of all the things that are happening in it. the basics of it aren’t exactly…basic. double fake dating in a love square. always fun!! also: rated t because they’re teenagers and there’s a lot of swearing.

i’ve only got the first chapter written, so updates for this fic might be a bit more spaced out! buckle up everyone, this is one hell of a rollercoaster.

Chat kicks his legs over the side of the Tower. It’s been a long patrol of mostly nothing, it’s rare that much comes up during these anyway. Usually it’s small things like robberies and assholes, almost never anything close to the size of an akuma.

Besides, it’s nice to hang out with Ladybug outside of akuma fights. When they were first starting out, patrols were mostly quiet and serious, despite his relentless attempts to crack jokes. But now he’s able to drop onto the Eiffel Tower with a greeting of, “Evening, My Lady. You look radiant as the moon tonight,” and she’ll just smile. They’re able to let conversation flow freely or sit in comfortable silence.

Chat adores having this relationship with Ladybug. He’s never had anything like this before. He never wants to lose it.

“…you’re not such a bad guy.”

He blinks. Okay, if he doesn’t want to lose her friendship, he should probably start paying more attention. “Yes,” he says, because that seems like a good response. Yeah, he’s not a bad guy. That’s true.

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Shoot from the hip

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings/Contains: swearing, a poorly constructed fight scene, gun violence, possessive Bucky, dominant Bucky, body worship, fingers in the mouth, quite a bit of the old dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), some butt grabbing, a bit of spanking, a shit ending??

Word Count: 4012

this was something off the top of my head because I am bad at making things up oh no. but i literally sat there and said “cosmos, what have you always wanted to do to bucky?” and this was born

Originally posted by allthisherostuff

“Shoot from the hip” (verb) to react quickly and without thinking

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Boiling Point

Miraculous Winter Sonata AU.

| First | Previous | Next |


The cab took them directly to Gabriel Agreste’s mansion. Adrien half-listened to Lila talk about everything he’d missed at Thanksgiving dinner with her family.

He had been to Lila’s house for Thanksgiving before. They weren’t American, but her Mr. and Mrs. Rossi fully believed in immersing themselves in the culture of wherever they happened to be living at the time. They watched the parade, put up Christmas decorations, shouted at the television during the football game, and came together to say their thanks over an enormous meal. Adrien remembered the way Lila would smile at him from across the table, her eyes and face lit up by the warm glow of the newly decorated Christmas tree. He remembered thinking how much he loved her, how happy he was that she was in his life, how lucky he was that he would someday marry her.

His stomach turned.

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