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Another Look Around (Gaston x Reader)

Originally posted by reyskyvalker

Word Count: 2,097

Warnings: None

    Early mornings in your small village of Villeneuve were something of a dream. The soft lavender skies were yawning off the dawn and blossoming into day, a thin, swirling mist drifted above the rooftops and over the distant hills, setting the entire scenery in a hazy, enchanted state. The smell of fresh bread being baked and the aroma of the floral shops wound through the cool air like an intoxicating perfume.

    The premature breeze on your face and the fresh, dewy air was enough to make you beam despite the morning hours. You closed the front door carefully behind you, not wanting to wake your sleeping family and slipped down the steps and through the small gardens that flourished in front of the house.

    The clicking of your boots on the cobblestone was a solitary noise. One of the few other sounds present were the quiet songs of the rising birds, and the creaking of the wooden blacksmith’s sign that hung suspended over his door. It was so simple and quiet and serene that it was easy to imagine that the town was merely frozen in time rather than emerging from the night hours.

    Any time now, you thought to yourself as you took up your usual vantage near the square. Sure enough, it wasn’t more than a minute before the first cheery “bonjour!” rang through the air.

    You squealed a bit as a pair of arms were thrown around your shoulders from behind, and a familiar voice near your ear said, “Guess who?” You laughed and responded jokingly, “Hmm. Prince Charming.” The person gave a light, musical giggle and untangled herself from you to say, “Sorry, no such luck. Guess you’ll have to make due with me for now.” You rolled your eyes and turned to face her. “Oh, how dreadful.”

    Belle smiled widely and embraced you properly. When she pulled back you glimpsed an unfamiliar binding peaking out of the folds of her dress. “New book?” You asked eagerly, linking your arm through hers. Belle’s eyes lit up and she nodded, pulling the novel out of her pocket and holding it out to you as you began to wade through the steadily filling streets. “I found it in the cellar last night,” she explained as you gazed at the worn brown cover lovingly. “The Count of Monte Cristo,” you read.

    The pair of you paused to purchase a few items from Monsieur Jean, then resumed your walk. “I haven’t read it yet,” Belle said, dodging a group of laughing children as they danced past. “But from what I saw when I glanced through it, it seems exciting. Adventure and revenge and romance…”

    “Sounds like the perfect package.”

    “That’s what I thought. But I’m not finished with Romeo and Juliet yet, so you can read it first.”

    You squeezed her arm and grinned broadly. “Thanks.”

    Passing through the crowded rows of vendors every morning was uncomfortable when your family had first moved to Villeneuve. You and Belle had taken instantly to one another, despite the fact that she was considered by the townspeople to be a “funny girl”. It wasn’t long before you became guilty by association and earned yourself the same title. You were the only bookworms in town, the only people who ever thought of leaving for a different life, the only people who were able to disappear into their imaginations to escape the mundane. However at this point, you were both used to it. You learned to ignore the staring eyes and disapproving glances.

    After making a few more stops and greeting several of the shopkeepers good morning, you and Belle had managed to make a full circle around the square. You were just about to join Belle for a late breakfast when you were stopped by a loud, deep voice calling your name from across the street.

    You flinched, closing your eyes and groaning, “Oh no.” Belle snickered, her eyes fixed on the man who’d called to you. “Well,” she said hastily. “I’ll be at the house. Good luck, (Y/N)!”

    Belle gave you a smart smile, then dashed from your side and made her way quickly down the street towards her home.

    “Thanks a lot,” you muttered, shaking your head at your best friend as she disappeared from view. Steeling yourself, you slowly turned to face the man swaggering towards you, his red coat nearly blinding you in the bright sunlight.

    “Bonjour, Gaston,” you greeted politely.

    Gaston flashed a dashing white smile, the edges of his eyes crinkling slightly as he took your hand and placed a kiss to the skin. “Good morning, Mademoiselle,” he returned, his voice simultaneously rough and silky.

    “Mademoiselle? Really, Gaston, have we not know each other long enough for you to remember my name?” You teased lightly, beginning to walk slowly towards Belle’s. “On the contrary, (Y/N), yours is a name I could never forget,” Gaston assured you, following instantly. You resisted the temptation to roll your eyes.

    Gaston was easily the most popular figure in the village, as well as the handsomest. The only problem was that he knew it, and rarely did he try to conceal that fact. When he walked by, women would melt like snow on a summer day, and men would stare after him in envy. A former war captain, Gaston was most certainly an impressive sight. His chest was broad and strong, his skin tanned, his arms and legs thick with lean muscle, and his hair was dark and shiny. His face could’ve been carved from enchanted stone, his jaw and cheekbones sharp enough to cut, dusted with dark stubble. His lips were nearly always smirking, and his eyes were a smoldering brown. Ever the romantic, the man could make a horse swoon without lifting a finger. There was no denying that he was truly something.

    “You’re flattering me, Gaston,” you replied, brushing your fingers along the iron fence that ran the length of the street. “It’s too early for that.”

    “Well, in that case perhaps I should drop by later this evening.”

    You winced inwardly, realizing that you’d practically walked right into that one. You halted abruptly, causing Gaston - who had been trailing particularly close - to bump into you. You turned to him with a slightly annoyed expression, to which he merely smiled apologetically. You pursed your lips, trying to find a kind way to refuse his offer. In the end all that came out was “Um…not this evening.”

    The shaky and terribly unconvincing way in which you’d spoken made even you cringe. Unlike Belle, you didn’t despise Gaston, and sometimes even enjoyed his company. However his constant attempts at wooing were a bit off-putting at times, and soon they began to blend together into one big blur of flowers and romantic gestures. It was because of this that you declined his invitation, yet the last thing that you wished to be was rude or insensitive…or in this case, awkward.

     There was a falter in Gaston’s smile as he asked, “You have other engagements?” You bit your lip debating whether lie and tell him that you had plans, or to tell the truth and admit that you simply weren’t in the mood for company. You wound up hesitating too long, causing an ungraceful “Yes” to tumble through your lips.

    You wheeled around quickly so that Gaston couldn’t see you scrunch your face in frustration. You were usually able to handle these situations with relative ease, but for some reason, today was different.

  Gaston continued to follow you as you set off once again towards Belle’s, clearly seeing straight through your terrible lies. This time when he spoke, his voice was suave, but earnest.

  “Oh, (Y/N), how long must you keep this up?” he said, practically walking on top of you, his chest to your shoulder, somehow managing not to trip either of you. “It’s been three months and talking to you is practically like trying to hold a conversation with a brick wall.”

  You gave a short, breathy laugh and countered, “It’s been four years, Gaston. Ever since we met I couldn’t go five steps without either you or LeFou hanging over my shoulder. Surely even you can see how that might get a bit old after a while?”

  Gaston didn’t reply immediately. In fact, he stopped where he was, and you had made it to the gate of Belle’s house by the time he pursued you again. You slipped through the iron fence and closed it just as Gaston arrived, planting his hands on either side of where yours rested on the gate. “Very well then, perhaps my attempts have been a bit excessive over the years –”

  “A bit.”

  “- but answer me one thing, (Y/N) …if not me then who?”

  You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Gaston’s expression was imploring and sympathetic. Whether or not it was sincere, you couldn’t tell. You swallowed, unable to respond.  

  “What about after your father and mother die?” Gaston went on, slowly sliding his hands to cover yours. “And it’s just you and the responsibilities that you won’t be able to fulfill without a husband at your side. You know what happens to spinsters in this town once they’re left on their own…” He leaned forward over the fence. “…they wind up on the streets, begging for food and spare coins from complete strangers until the day that they die sad, lonely deaths…”

  Your heartbeat was accelerating. If you had the will, you would’ve informed Gaston that coming upon a single stranger in Villeneuve was immensely rare, and that you obviously wouldn’t be alone, thanks to your friendship with Belle. But the words simply wouldn’t leave your throat.

  By this point, you and Gaston were practically touching noses. Your cheeks were now the color of his crimson coat, and your gaze was trapped in his intense brown eyes like flies trapped in honey.

  “I wouldn’t be able to live knowing such a fate had befallen you,” he whispered.

  You swallowed thickly. “Are you implying that I’ll never find another man besides you?” you practically squeaked. Gaston smiled sympathetically. “Of course not. Only that time won’t wait for you.”

  “So you think I simply haven’t met the right man?”

  “Well -”

  “Because it’s a small village, Gaston. I’ve met them all. So, I suppose that means that my future husband won’t be a resident of these parts.”

  With that, you gathered enough willpower to pull your wrists from his grasp and back away towards the front door. Gaston gave what sounded like an indignant sigh. “Well, maybe you just need to take another look around!” he said, easily swinging himself over the fence and following you to the steps.

    You turned back around once you reached the top, seeing Gaston perched beneath you, one leg mounted on the second step, staring up at you. You raised your eyebrows.

  “Another look around?”

  “Exactly!”

  “Preferably in your general direction, I suppose.”

  A dazzling smirk slid across his lips.

  You laughed out loud, turning your back and grasping the knob of the door. Before you could open it however, Gaston tread up the steps two at a time, throwing one hand against the door to prevent you from escaping him, leaving you trapped between the pane and his body.

  “Gaston!” you practically whined. He looked pleased with himself, but stealthily masked it. “Please, (Y/N),” he said quickly, giving you a desperate smile. “Just one more chance. That’s all I’m asking of you. And if in the end your feelings are unchanged, then I will relent to your wishes and leave you be.”

  You were surprised to see his eyes suddenly soften, and for the moment, his entire demeanor changed. The cockiness faded to nonexistence, and sincerity bloomed in its place, so raw and real that you felt butterflies going haywire in your stomach. Your chest was brushing his, the difference in your heights was laughable, yet somehow he seemed so, so, close…

  In one swift move, you managed to remove his arm from the door, yank it open, and slide inside. But before closing it, you hastily informed, “It wouldn’t be completely pointless for you to look for me at the tavern tonight.”

  Then before the heat in your face became too evident, you closed the door and practically collapsed against it, your heart pounding and an extremely stupid grin on your lips. It certainly didn’t help when you heard Gaston’s deep, husky laughter ringing just on the other side of the wood.

  Belle peered quizzically at you from the kitchen for a few seconds, then she frowned as she asked, “What on earth happened to you?”

Newt Scamander x Bookworm!Reader Headcanons

A/n- this popped into my head, hope you’re all having a lovely valentines day


-You at first trying to hide your ‘slight obsession’ from Newt because you thought that he might find it strange like those you had previously been in a relationship with


- You being entirely wrong, as your love for books only made Newt fall faster and deeper in love with you


-The two of you having simple yet serene dates at libraries, coffee shops, and in the park under shady trees as the sun warms your faces, enjoying one another’s company while holding hands and discussing your current read


-When the two of you move in together, half of the boxes are just filled with both of your books.


-Books can often be found everywhere in your flat, from resting on their shelves to laying strewn about the counter or even in stacks around the house


-building blanket forts and cuddling on winter days


-Newt holding you closely and comfortably when you begin to sob about the death of a beloved character, as he understands the type of attachment you hold towards them


-Getting so excited about a new book that you’re jumping around and rambling, and he finds this absolutely adorable


-There’s just something about the way your eyes light up about a character or scene between the lines of the tattooed pages that tugs at his heart, wrapping it in a warm and gentle grasp of affection


-Reading stories to the creatures


-At first it’s just a few, but as you begin to do it more frequently, more begin to curl up around you as you elaborate on far off lands filled with adventure and romance and suspense


-the scents of brewing coffee and tea intertwine with that of fresh scented candles in your home daily


-Helping Newt with his own book, and of course giving him encouragement and cuddles when needed


-You asking for Newt’s help when you can’t reach for your favorite book on the highest shelf because he’s so much taller than you are.


-Newt smiling to himself whenever he finds you after you’ve fallen asleep on the couch near the fireplace. Your hair is splayed while a book rests on your chest, rising and falling with each breath, and your innocent state is beautiful to him.


-He would then scoop you up, after bookmarking your book of course, as you sleepily whisper between kisses


-Newt would also become needy for attention when you spend hours on end busy reading, when all he wants to do is cuddle you.


-“Newt, I’m at a really good part, I promise I’ll come back down in a bit.”


-“Y/n….you’ve been saying that for the past hour…”


-Newt giving up, and just taking you in his arms then and there, nuzzling his head into your hair with his arms firmly around your waist


-You poking fun at how cuddly he was acting and at how he was jealous that the book was getting all of your attention instead of him, even though he denies it.


-him taking you to bookstores frequently because he loves how you turn into a giddy little child in a candy store at the sight of everything


-Newt peppering you with kisses as he passes you a mug of coffee/tea/cocoa knowing that it will help you conquer the day since you stayed up all night reading again


-He loves you for exactly who you are, and he thinks your passion and excitement are not only beautiful, but unique, and he wouldn’t want you to change who you are for anyone

Masterlist:

http://unscriptedtimetraveler.tumblr.com/post/156427727241/masterlist-thing

Snow Day

SUMMARY: Snow in Gotham City is rare, yet beautiful…

WORD COUNT: 592 words

AUTHOR: Lydia

NOTES: short, sweet, simple, snowy. this one, i like a lot :) enjoy!


She enjoyed the snow something fierce. The cold bite it had on her cheeks, causing her skin to turn a certain pale with her lips just the same. She loved how it froze her fingers and how she couldn’t feel her steps, and she loved how simple and serene the world looked with a soft layer of white across the ground. Snow, she decided long ago, is to be treasured.

It hadn’t snowed in Gotham in countless years, and (y/n) began to think the white flurries would never return, like they had somewhere better to bless. No matter how cold it got, no matter how much it rained, snow refused to form and fall from the heavens. It aggravated her.

But today, as she woke, the bedroom seemed brighter. As she blinked her eyes open, and as she shivered slightly against the sheets, her eyes landed on the light layer of snow outside. She sighs with a small smile, looking over to Bruce who lies asleep.

With no hesitation, she crawls out of bed. She grabs Bruce’s shirt, an old, loose button up he had on the night before, and she slides it over her body. Quietly, she sneaks out of the room and takes fast steps down the hallway and to the back door near the large living room.

(Y/n) takes a moment to take in the white landscape. She adores the large property that’s draped in snow, and the lake that’s frozen slightly with ice. And without thinking another grateful thought, she steps out in just her undergarments and Bruce’s aged shirt.

As soon as her feet land in the snow, she sinks about an inch down. She laughs to herself and shuts the door, snow already collecting in her hair. She walks out further on the large patio, letting the sun hit her face through the thick clouds and thin snowfall.

She sits down in the snow, the cold flakes gnawing at her flesh and making her almost flinch back. She runs her hands through the snow and lets the little flakes cling to her warm fingers, quickly melting and dropping back to the patio. She lets her hang over her face as she continues to do this, bringing snow onto her legs to cover her with its bitterness.

The door behind her opens, and she looks over her shoulder. It’s Bruce, of course, in sweatpants and a t-shirt as he shivers against the air. He shuts the door and walks to her, shaking his head when his feet sink in the snow. She smiles up at him and he laughs a little.

“(Y/n), you’re going to get a cold,” he warns her.

“Nah, I’m okay,” she whispers, looking around.

“How the hell are you doing that?”

She frowns, looking up. “Doing what?”

“Sitting in the snow!” She laughs loudly, shielding her eyes from the snow as she watches him.

“It’s not that bad, Bruce,” she argues, and he mutters a quick “whatever” as he sits.

“Now our clothes are gonna be wet,” he groans, and he looks over. “And that’s my shirt.”

“I know,” she says with a smile, and he rolls his eyes. She sighs and scoots over, resting her head on his shoulder and letting him wrap an arm around her. His body heat contrasts with the snow so much that she shivers at the feeling of the warmth. He sees this, kissing her forehead and brushing some of the snow out of her hair.

And to himself he admits that he, too, enjoys the snow.

i’m finding it’s kinda hard of late to distinguish between portraying em in canon vs. in my own headcanonic-state ^^; i tried tho, bc I was inspired by this really sweet comic I saw ;3; even tho i don’t watch the show lel i thought this was cute~ 

enjoy (o´▽`o)


It’s very quiet. But this quiet is unsettling, and it churns his stomach. They sit across from one another, yet neither can bring themselves to look the other in the eye. And so they continue, mindlessly shoveling mouthfuls of whatever-it-is in, intently studying the patterns of the wood on the table. 

Armin finds this amusing, which is surprising since he seldom finds anything amusing anymore, since it’s so hard - but he finds this is - and cracks a small smile. Though, his companions, Eren and Mikasa, notice nothing, so he covers his mouth and slips away, silently. 

Five minutes turn into ten, ten into an hour, an hour into two, and soon the sun has dipped below the horizon, though neither have finished their meals. 

“I’m not hungry…” she mumbles into her spoon. 

“Hm? You say something?”

“I’m not really hungry,” she repeats. 

“…ah, yeah, me neither,” he replies slowly, pushing his plate away as the spoon clatters and dives beneath the soup. 

“Would you want to get some fresh air?” she asks quietly, instinctively bringing her scarf up over her mouth. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

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13: Adrenaline

Request by @andhiseyesweregreen: Congrats on 4000 babe!!   My number is 13 and my sentence is “We push and pull like a magnet do.” 💗💗

Word Count: 1045

A/N: I changed the sentence a little just so I could work it in easier. I love Ed Sheeran, but the grammar in that sentence just doesn’t for anything other than a lyric. Also, Shape of You has a completely opposite feeling from Adrenaline, so this was super interesting to figure out :) And for this one I put it in season 11/12ish, but I’m still in denial that Ellen and Jo are really gone, so it’s kind of an AU because they’re definitely not dead! (The Roadhouse never burned down, Ash still sleeps on the pool tables, and hunters still stop by there all the time dammit!)

A/N.2: I just found out that this song features Trevor McNevan, who is the lead singer of Thousand Foot Krutch who is, like, one of my favorite bands? WHAT? How did I now know this? Two of my favorite bands have a song together and I’ve listened to it countless times, but I couldn’t figure it out? WHAT??

Version en Español: Adrenalina

Song 13: Adrenaline by Nine Lashes


Ever since you met Sam Winchester, your life seemed to shift and it was like you couldn’t quite breathe right. The edges of each moment never quite aligned, and nothing you did seemed to get the pieces to lock into place.

You managed to escape from your family’s unglorified business of hunting monsters and killing the things that go bump in the night to study law at Stanford. Well, pre-law. You never quite made it into law school. Your brother ruined those plans when he got himself bitten by a vampire and your dad dragged you away from school to help hunt down your sibling and cut off his head.

But those few years as an undergrad in California had been like a dream. You met your first boyfriend during the first week as a freshman. Then, the next semester you met Sam in one of your classes. He had been single then, but you were still unavailable. By the time you wised up to your feelings for him and broke up with your boyfriend, he’d found Jess. And he was so happy that you couldn’t be a homewrecker. Then Jess died, Sam disappeared, and your father showed up a week later.

Those dream years at college just served to show you that you really were a hunter. You could pretend to be lawyer material all you liked, but your life wasn’t meant to be simple or serene. So you resumed hunting with your father.

Since then, you’d run into Sam Winchester a few times. Always when you had to get an early start the next day in order to meet your father for another hunt in a different state. So you only got to have a few drinks with Sam before calling it a night. Other times, he was the one who had to run. The business conference or meeting he’d been in town for was over and he had to catch an early flight the next day.

But you always seemed to find your way back together, if only for a few hours.

“Sam Winchester as I live and breathe,” you said, announcing your presence with a smile. He spun around in the barstool and a wide grin broke across his face.

“Y/N!” He unfolded his large body from the stool and gathered you into his arms, crushing you to his perfectly toned chest.

Laughing lightly, you wrapped your arms around him as well, enjoying the way his muscles moved under your arms. He may be a businessman who got lost, but he definitely could fit right in here at this typical hunter bar. “It’s been a few years. What the hell are you doing in an old dive bar in Nebraska?”

“What are you doing in an old dive bar in Nebraska?” He asked cautiously.

You glanced around the Roadhouse and tried to fit the pieces of this puzzle together. You knew that there was a simple explanation for this, but you didn’t want to believe it. You wanted to believe that Sam had a normal life. It was the only way for you to keep one toe in the simple, nine to five life you’d often imagined as a child.

“Sammy!” A man with a jawbone that could cut glass came sauntering over. “Ellen got us a case down in Florida. Whadaya think? Kill some monsters, hit the beach, hit on hot chicks in bikinis on the beach?”

Sam let out a sound between a sigh and a grunt and turned to you. “Y/N, this is my brother Dean. Dean, my friend from Stanford.”

A case? Kill some monsters?

“My God, we’re idiots,” you said, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Dean and a cocked head from Sam. Shaking your head quickly to clear it, you stretched out your hand to shake Dean’s. “Sorry. I mean it’s really nice to meet you, Dean. I’m Y/N and I just came from a hunt in Arizona that turned out to be some ancient spirit from central Africa.”

Slowly, you slid your eyes from Dean over to Sam, meeting his wide-eyed stare as he finished the puzzle in his mind. “Wait, you’re telling me that—“

“We’ve both been hiding that we’re hunters for years? Yeah.”

“So when you said you had to go get your dad out of a hairy situation three years ago—“

“Werewolf. And you weren’t kidding when you said you just got out of a meeting with the devil himself?”

At that, Sam laughed. “Not at all. And when I said I had to go run and make a deal with a demon or my boss would fire me…”

“My God, I am such an idiot. You weren’t even trying to hide it.”

Again, he laughed and even though over a decade had passed since you first started crushing on him, you still found your heart doing somersaults.

While Dean subtly excused himself and you and Sam sat down to catch up on the unabridged versions of your lives, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering. You and Sam push and pull like magnets do. Together, but never touching. Apart, but always on your mind. And there was always something in your way, some unseen force holding you back.

But there was nothing right now. Just the two of you. The both of you were confident in who you were. As you learned more about him, you could see your own past as a mirror image of his. Doubting if hunting was really the life for you. Wanting to make the world a better place by practicing law. Trying to get out. But then figuring out that this was where you belonged. The unspoken heroes.

Blood pounded through your veins as you built up the courage to say what you wanted. It was now or never. Time to take the chance.

“So, Sam. I have this hunt in Oregon. I was gonna ask Jo to be backup, but maybe… maybe you can come. It’ll be like old times. Late night study sessions in the library. Just higher stakes. More blood.”

He glanced over at his brother for a second, considering his options. Then a soft smile tweaked at his lips and you knew that you’d won. “When do we leave?”


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