so i had to go back to my old ways

libbyangelofthelord  asked:

Steve and Bucky seeing what people call gangsters today and talk about the Irish and Italian mafia when they were growing up and how they got some money during hard times for doing some runs for the mafia

“Huh.”  Steve looks over to Bucky where he sits curled up in a deep, cozy papasan chair. “I don’t think we qualify anymore, Buck.”

Bucky hummed, cheeks stuffed full of popcorn.  

“I’m sorry, what?” Sam leaned forward in his seat. “You don’t qualify as what anymore?”  The anticipation on his face was incredible.

Bucky shrugged.  “’Snothin’. Steve n’I just did odd jobs back in the day.  Had to make ends meet, you know how it is.” 

Clint narrowed his eyes.  “Wait.  Waitwaitwait. Odd jobs.” He looked at the screen to the rolling credits of the movie they’d just watched and back to Steve and Bucky.  “Oh my God.  Is that your way of saying you were Old-Timey Gangsters?”

It was Steve’s turn to shrug.  “Not really.  Sort of. –I mean.  Officially, legally.  Illegally.  Yeah.”

Oh my God.”  Steve was pretty sure Sam was going to have a heart attack. “Why did I not know this?!”

Bucky wriggled around so he could face Sam better.  “It was prohibition for us.  People were still drinkin’.  Steve needed medicine and an honest job didn’t pay as much as we needed. So.”  He shrugged.

“So I managed logistics and Bucky did the literal heavy lifting. Not really that big a deal.” 

Clint was grinning a mile wide.  “This is so much better than I could imagine.  Steve, you had mob connections.”  

“Have.”

Bucky hummed.  

What?!”  Sam squeaked.  

Steve made a defenseless gesture.  “Families like that have long memories.  They know I’m alive.”  He nodded towards the bar.  “You think I buy my liquor?”

Bucky grinned.  “You always did ingratiate yourself.” He looked at Sam.  “He was their best-selling supplier Brooklyn had.  They owe him; he helped keep them in business long enough for for prohibition to end and for them to make real money.”  Bucky held up his glass and let Dum-E cart it over to the bar, smiling wickedly.  “Another whiskey.”  

Scumbag Aunt ripped off my Grandma for years, I put my nose in her business and had the IRS financially ruin her.

This is going to be long, so TL; DR; Aunt screwed over my Grandma for years, I put my nose in her business, got parents wise on the fraud and eventually reported her to the IRS. The long dick of the IRS bankrupted her and her husband and now they are destitute and too old to work. 


This happened about 5 years ago. My Grandma was getting old, late 80s/early 90s. She had one wish, to not die in a senior home. Easily done as my Grandpa sold some assets way back when, then invested the money and let it ride for 30+ years; he never touched it and collected a pension.

Way back when my Grandpa died, (about 10 years before this), my Grandma appointed my dad, this shitty aunt and my uncle as the Trustees of the trust. Basically the trusted advisors for her and her care for the foreseeable future. All was well in the beginning, then my dad (Willy) moved further away and couldn’t take care of the day to day upkeep as the Trustee and to see that my grandma was ok. My aunt (Rebecca) told her that she and my uncle (Fred, who lived in Arizona) could take over and all would be fine. It was fine for a while.

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8

        “I was born and raised up in Canada till I was 7 years old, but I don’t have that much memories regarding that. However I have more impression about New York as I was there until 12 years old. After that I went back to Canada for 2-3 more years before coming to Korea. I had great memories at churches in Korea. No matter your religion or whether you have a religion or not, it influenced my thinking and way of thinking positively.” -Mark

My carpel tunnel hand/arm is acting up again so I don’t have anything new to post BUT I did find this old Keith thingy I did (back in January I think? Maybe??) and I never got around to post it so here you go~

I had originally planned to do all the paladins in this style but deadlines got in the way back then… should I do them all or nah?

I honestly find it heart breaking that Harry ‘knew he had to talk about Taylor’ and that he first tried to make a joke about it (‘you could just write I never came back’), excused himself to go to the bathroom but then took so long to return to the interview that the waiter asked if Harry is even coming back? My heart actually hurts hearing this. It hurts, cause it shouldn’t have to be this way. And yet he probably needed to think about what exactly / how vague / how respectful he can answer this without causing a new round of old drama etc. The fact that he must have taken so damn long to come back to the table is just….

The Last All-Clear (8)

Notes from Mod Bonnie

  • This story is a series following the premise: Imagine if Jamie travelled through the stones, but instead of finding Claire in Boston he found himself having arrived years too early, when the War was still happening and Claire had yet to meet him… What would he do?”
  • A wee bit o’ mixing of showverse and bookverse details, hope ye dinna mind. 

Previously:

(Part 1) September 17, 1942: A Rusty Nail

(Part 2) December 3, 1942: Comb and Glove

(Part 3) 1943: Blood and Whisky | (Part 4) 1943-1944: Gifts and Ends

(Part 5) June, 1944: The Road | (Part 6) June, 1944: The Ditch  

(Part 7) Samhain, 1946: Inverness |


(8) April 16, 1948: The Hill 


The first time I went through the stones, there had been no sense to it, no words, no meaning. Unprepared as I had been, my mind had stayed four steps behind my body, completely incapable of processing the experience until it was long over, leaving even now only a vague impression, that of hurtling through an insidious, shrieking darkness. That senselessness had been a blessing, I now knew, no matter how terrible the experience itself had been. This time…

This time, it was like one of those horror-story medical cases where the anesthesia doesn’t fully take effect, where—unbeknownst to anyone— the patient is conscious and feels every single agony…. but is unable to move or scream or even blink.  

This time, I could feel everything, see everything as it happened, and yet I was completely powerless to move, to speak as I bled out, was torn apart. This time, there was no distraction, no senseless oblivion, no blessed, rushing current of time to speed the torture. There was only the truth, sharp and vicious, a thousand knife blades tearing through my flesh as I fell: 

Jamie

Jamie is gone

Jamie is dead


Then the world broke apart, and I was falling through real air toward real grass… and into Jamie’s arms. 


“Oh, thank God,” I moaned. My knees buckled, the crippling blow of sudden relief too much for my body to withstand, but Jamie kept me from falling. Jamie. My fingers scrabbled to hold him tighter, to convince myself he was real. Jamie. Thank — God — !” 

You’re here,” he was gasping back, hands frantic, his cheek wet against my forehead. “You’re—here—You’re you!” 

It hadn’t worked. Praise be to God and all the saints for all of eternity, the stones hadn’t worked. They’d spat me right back out at Jamie’s feet. 

“Jamie ” 

This man—This kind, gentle, powerful, caring man….My husband…

Mo chridhe….” 

Abject relief and even the sensory comfort of him vanished as reality roared back in. “Jamie….Jamie, don’t make me do it!” 

For, I knew it as deeply as I knew my own name that one botched attempt would not be enough to dissuade him from getting me to the safety of the twentieth century. He wouldn’t give in. Well….neither would I. I fisted my hands hard in his coat as I gritted out, “You can’t make me try it again.” 

“’Try’?—What d’ye—?” He stiffened, then squeezed me tighter, his breath fast and shallow against my neck as he said, urgently, “No! Claire, listen! Ye have come—”

“They didn’t work—I can’t get through! You can’t go fight, now—” I was sobbing, completely senseless in my despair. “You CAN’T—You have t—You—Come away with me, Jamie, me and the baby —” 

I pulled myself harder against him, absolutely berserk with determination that he must not die—that I mustn’t leave him. I’d relented once, down below in the cottage; had felt my heart break in two as I agreed to go, because he had begged, and I’d seen no other way.  I’d touched the bloody stones for him, for his child, meaning to go back to my old life for their sake, if not my own; but the stones had had other intentions, thank God, and so now I would do the begging. “Jamie—don’t throw your life away—Come away with me, love—stay with—”

Claire,” he said, louder this time as he cupped my head, kissed it. His voice was cracked but full, radiant, even, with some powerful emotion I couldn’t name. “Mo chridhe, listen, ye dinna understand! You’re—  

“We can run away, ” I whimpered, twining my fingers in his hair, even as I memorized his scent again, greedily clinging to the feel of him for the last time, some part of me knowing the futility of every word. Still, I begged. “I’ll go anywhere—anywhere—Just don’t give yourself up — don’t — DON’T—

“Sassenach, look at me.” This was said more sharply as he tried to pry me away and tilt my face upward. “Lass, l—” 

“NO—” 

I wouldn’t yield to this again; I WOULD NOT sit back and submit to  — 

He must have pushed me, for I was reeling backward, clawing at empty air, my eyes so blurred and swollen with tears I could barely discern more than the direction of the sunlight. 

I was screaming his name, so frantic in my disorientation that I thought I’d touched the stone again and that he was gone…Gone…. 

But he was shouting my name, too, near at hand, though the sound seemed muffled, as though I were beneath deep water. I reached blindly for it, but the tone of command in his voice cut through, harsh enough to halt me. I stood, still unable to see, heaving, waiting.  

 “Claire…. mo ghraidh.…”  

So soft, that voice, now. Gentle. Beaming, with —  

“Open your eyes, Claire. Look at me.” 



The 2,557th day 

God, how it broke my heart to see ye, so, standing in the circle, your face so pale and thin. The hollows of your cheek and collarbone stood out so painfully in the gold of the fading sunlight, and I could hardly bear the shame of it, of bringing that suffering upon ye. For all my own struggles and fears in our time apart, I have had seven years of plenty. Even in the worst of my days in this century, I never went to my bed starving, hardly one night in all those years, thanks to the kindness of many a stranger. You, though…. God, Claire, to see ye thus, your back hunched over as though ye would fall at any moment, scarce minutes removed from those wretched months of war and hunger, and with child, no less. Christ, our own wee bairn… 

Still, though my heart was squeezing fit to burst, though I was aching to hold my wife, to have you and the bairn safe in my arms at last…. I confess, the foremost feeling within me was unspeakable joy. Though my bones still seemed to scream from those agonizing hours of waiting, today, of fearing the worst with every minute ye didna arrive, I was all but laughing as I caught ye, held ye, the happiness so visceral and complete that it imbued my limbs, my breath, my tongue. For, the days of fear were gone, those hundreds and thousands of days, banished. You’re here, Claire. My Claire, the one I married. The one who knows my heart, and I, hers. All that remained was for you to look up, to see me, to see my joy and know your own, once ye understood the miracle at hand.

At last, ye did look, peering up, out from that darkness pressing down upon ye. You blinked once, straightened a bit and looked more closely. Another blink. I watched your mouth open as ye tried to speak, the wind blowing your hair about your face, but no sound came forth.   

My own voice scarcely could make itself heard, though I tried to smile as I gestured toward my garments. This isna precisely how ye left me, moments ago, aye?



Between the tears and hunger, the fatigue and the lingering panic, I couldn’t seem to fix my eyes long enough to put words to what I was seeing, to reconcile the contradictory realities before me. 

Jamie Fraser—my Jamie—standing on the other side of the clearing of Craigh na Dun. That was reasonable. He’d been only at the bottom of the hill, after all, when I’d left him. 

But his hair cropped short? 

His face suddenly clean and shaven?

His clothes— his clothes….?

“Ye did come through the stones, mo chridhe,” he was saying, his face alight. “And so did I.” 

“No…” I shook my head and staggered a step back. 

“…..It’s 1948.” He spoke each word slowly and carefully, repeating it. “Nineteen hundred and forty-eight.” 

I swayed, time and reason seeming to pulse and stretch absurdly, like a rubber band. This was a dream. This was nothing more than a bloody fever dream of grief and emotional turmoil and pregnancy, my subconscious soothing me with a fantasy world in which I got to keep both of them, Jamie and our child, forever, in a place of safety. That world isn’t real, Beauchamp. This isn’t real. I squeezed my eyes shut and covered my mouth to keep from screaming. This isn’t real, no matter how much you want it to be.  

“Claire, hear me. Time has passed. It was morning a moment ago, aye?” He was speaking quickly, urgently. “Look about—’Tis sunset, now. This isna the morn of Culloden. It canna be. Ye see how I’m dressed. Ye felt me in your own two hands, just now, did ye not?” He took a step forward. “We’ve come through the stones, both of us. I’m real.” 

I could do nothing but stare and try to stem the flood of yearning before it could break me apart from the inside. I tried to speak, but could only mouth one word: How…? 

“When I saw the redcoat making chase for ye, I followed, running up the hill after him,” he said, moving slowly toward me. 

I had heard footsteps behind me as I ran to the stones…. just minutes ago…

“I crested the hill just as I saw ye vanish,” he said. “I fought him as the sun came up fully, all across the circle floor. At one point, I made a lunge for him but missed, staggered, and threw out my hand to stop my fall, but I fell against the stone by accident…..I passed through.”  

I couldn’t stop staring at those fists, clenching and unclenching at his sides, twitching, then stilling again, just a few feet before me. 

“I’ve been here ever since.” 

Silence. 

“Claire?” 

"You didn’t fight in the battle?” The words seemed to come from somewhere outside my body as I watched those hands, transfixed, my lips scarcely moving. “You…didn’t die?” 

“No, I didna die,” I heard him murmur with a breath of a laugh, gentle and soft and him. Alive. “I woke up here, in this very spot….. and I’ve been waiting for you, for this day, praying you’d be safely delivered to this year……And here ye are, at last. Claire, I—” His voice broke at that, a grating whisper, and I watched as the fingers began stretching out toward me, trembling. “Mo chridhe…. I’ve missed you so….All th—” He had to stop. When he spoke again, the tears were choking him in good earnest. “—all these years, I’ve— ” 

“Who’s the prime minister?” I heard myself blurt. 

The hands twitched. “…..Beg pardon?” 

“The prime minister,” I snapped, the rush of annoyance somehow momentarily bracing to my fracturing sanity. “I know for a fact I never told you, so tell me right this damned minute who the bloody pr—” 

“The prime minister of the United Kingdom….” I watched as one hand reached out and took mine, warm and confident as his voice. “…. is Clement Attlee.” 

A sob and a gasp escaped my throat at the same time, a wretched pain slicing through me as the other hand raised up to my face. “Dinna fash, my Sassenach,” he said, though tears were pouring down his own cheeks, framing that same crooked smile. “Mr. Attlee’s doing a fine job of it.” 

I must have blacked out for a few moments, for the next thing I knew, my arms were already around his neck, my feet barely touching the ground and my ribs ready to crack as he crushed me to him. We were both crying, sobbing, and I couldn’t seem to hold enough of him at once. Him—Jamie—JAMIE—“You—fucking—bastard!!!” I ground out through gritted teeth against his shoulder (his real, 20th-century shoulder!!). “BASTARD!” 

He laughed, sniffing through the weeping. “I love ye too, Sassenach.” 

“You were going to die!” I snarled, truly and mightily furious, coughing and gasping for air even as my limbs went liquid from relief. “You were going to go to that battlefield— and let yourself be slaughtered— you FUCKING —” 

“I know….” he murmured at once, all levity vanished as he sobered and held me, his hand coming up to twine in my hair and cup my head, hard. “I know….You were so brave, mo ghraidh…Thank ye for doing as as I bade, for the bairn’s sake. It meant everything to me. It means everything.” He kissed me, just below the ear, exhaling, shuddering against my skin. “But now, w—we dinna have to grieve—anymore.” He was crying so heavily he could hardly get the words out. “We’re here…. to—gether.”  

“How long?” I choked out. 

“Forever, mo chridhe—We’ll have all the time in the—”

 “No—” I said, feeling the horror pooling in my gut, enough to make me push back to study his face above the collar of his waxed cotton jacket. All these years, he’d just said. “….How long have you been waiting?” 

He replied, but so quietly I had to ask it again. He cleared his throat and couldn’t look me in the eye as he said, too carefully, “Since— 1941.” 

The sound that issued from me—

It wasn’t possible. If it truly was 1948, then the stones kept time in exact parallel. Jesus H Christ, I had left him mere minutes ago, how could he possibly—POSSIBLY—?

Very gently, he took my hand and turned it over. The letter J carved at the base of my thumb was oozing blood, the scabs having torn off sometime in the last few minutes from grappling with him, I supposed. He laid his own hand palm-up to show the mark I myself had made upon him. I stared. For so very long, I couldn’t do a goddamn thing except stare, my eyes and mouth both moving furiously but without sound. In contrast to the raw, screaming red of my own fresh wound, his C was the barest, faintest crescent of white, so long-healed as to all but have disappeared amid the lines and wrinkles. 

 “…Oh, Jamie…”  I reached up for his face with both my hands, my heart absolutely breaking for him. My eyes were wide and streaming, though I still dared to hope that I’d misunderstood. “…..Seven years?” 

I expected him to make a joke, to tease or try to lighten the mood, but he only nodded and kissed my hands, laying his own atop them on his face as he continued to weep. 

“Oh, my love….” I kissed him, kissed his tears, the devastation of his reality ripping through me as though they were my own years that had been lost; my own heart that had been alone for close to a decade. There were no words, but I couldn’t stop murmuring what I could. I love you….I’m so sorry….It’s alright… It’s over.

I love you,” he repeated back, letting me hold and soothe him, as he had me. “I love you.” 

“But, where did you go?” I whispered at last when the questions became too frenzied to ignore. I tried to search his eyes, my own surely incredulous and horrified. “What….what did you do for all that—” Jesus “—all those years?” 

His eyes flicked open. He took a steadying breath, kissed me, very gently, then released one hand to reach into his pocket. Turning my scarred one over once more, he placed something delicately in my palm. It was still warm from the heat of his body. A smooth pebble of cherrywood, carved with a interlace dragonfly. 



 

I thought I’d seen ye shocked, already; thought that you had already been overcome to the most extreme point possible by the day’s revelations. I was wrong, for your reaction in that moment, seeing the token in your hand, the one I made for ye, all those years ago—That reaction was something the like of which I’ve never seen on your face, Claire, so visceral and true, it sent waves coursing through me that took my breath from fear and love, both. I hope never to give ye cause to feel such a thing again.   

You studied my face, wild-like, seeking your friend of old, within….and finding him. Ye covered your mouth with both hands to keep from wailing. 

It’s really him, ye wept through your fingers, —really you.

C’est moi, I said, touching your cheek. It’s me. 

One hand dropped to your heart and clutched hard as ye sank to your knees, tears streaming freely over the other. 

It was the only way I kent to live wi’ myself, I said, or something of the like as I knelt beside ye, put my arms around ye. Being near to ye, in some way. 

All along? 

That what ye kept saying. I could see your eyes above your hands, clear and shining and full of love and awe, even as the most terrible sobs wracked your body. 

Aye…all along. 

It was difficult to speak the words, any words, for I, too was being bowled over by the weight of it all, the immensity of release from this last burden, this last secret that had so long been crushing my heart. I felt myself swaying on my knees, the world spinning around us. 

You came to find me? you said, incredulous, broken-hearted. All those years, you watched over me? Helped me?

As best I could, I said. 

You did, you whispered, nodding fiercely as you wept into my chest and pulled me close, tightly enough to bruise. You did. More than you know.

My heart leapt, for I thought surely ye must mean the night in the ditch. Though, when I asked of it, ye didna seem to comprehend that of which I spoke. You stared up at me, trying to fathom what I might possibly could mean. 

Then all at once you jolted as though struck by an electric shock. I saw you remember. 

You were there? you said, again and again. You were there with me…..Jesus Chris, you were there….

Time seems to have juddered out of place, then, for I canna precisely recall how much of it passed. I canna recall how my body was situated, or yours. I canna remember what words we might have spoken, or, for that matter, if we were able to speak at all. I think not, on the whole. All I ken for certain is that I was holding you, all my heart running down my face as I clung to you and to the bairn; that everything was well, that all was clear, at last. 

When the night had fallen, though, and you were asleep against my breast, I carried you here to the campsite and laid you down upon the blankets, tucking you in against the chill of the night. I couldna sleep, myself. Not yet. I watched you, for a time, wept some more (I’m a most damnably fragile man, mo chridhe; I do hope you’ll forgive me) and then turned on the electric torch, that I might write to ye. One more letter, one final letter, before closing this wee book for good. After all, I dinna mean to be spending many days apart from ye, in the lifetime to come, Sassenach; none at all, if I should have my own say in the matter. 

Lord, but what else remains to be written, apart from rejoicing here on this page that we are safe; we are together; we have our child; that we will live, Claire, long and happily; and that, by divine grace, I was able to keep my promise. 

Do you recall it? The one I made near Carryarrick, just after ye told me about that night in the ditch? About the Americans? I promised you that no matter what might come, you would never be alone again; and you weren’t, not for a single moment as ye fell through the stones; not in that darkest, most fearful night of the war. Whatever luck or chance or providence brought it about, guiding my steps, you were protected. You were never alone. 

Aye, that was it:  what I was repeating over and over as we lay there shaking and weeping on the ground before the stones. 

You weren’t ever alone.





[y e s , t h e r e ’s  m o r e]

anonymous asked:

hey I was wondering if you had any good gendrya fic recommendations, I'm in need of some. please & thank you

Thanks so much for the ask and sorry for taking so long! Especially since I promised to make another AxG fic recommendation list not that long ago. If you want to see my first list before going through this one, you can find it here.

So, for this list, I’m going to start with recently written works currently in progress that I’m obsessed with:

The Thief by sionnach_glic on Ao3
This one is written so incredibly well and includes a few different POVs and…just…every single interaction between Arya and Gendry is SO amazing. It was one of those fics that I wanted to read all in one sitting but couldn’t because I didn’t want to get to the end and have to wait for another chapter.

The Million and One Ways Arya Could (Should) Have Been Mentioned by SecondFromTheRight on Ao3
Completely and totally obsessed with this one since it gives us everything we didn’t get from Season 7 and more in terms of Arya actually being discussed by literally everyone she’s had past interactions with together in a group (sans Jorah and Tormund). It’s just so great and addictive and updated frequently.

Warrior’s Hands by faithisbrokenn on Ao3
Another recent one I’m really loving. Warning: there’s smut in Chapter 1. Haha or newsflash, not warning, lmao. I just love the way that Arya and Gendry are written; their dialogue is spot on. And gendrya + reunion + kissing + more = everything.

Now I’ll go back in time and list some favorite old classics:

I’ll Run (Run To You) by my absolute love @jewishstarks
An old old favorite. An actual masterpiece. One of those G has to compete among others for A’s hand. Absolutely and completely lovely. You won’t stop smiling.

Oblivious by winterwaters on Ao3
So as I’ve said before, I’m cautious of most modern AUs, but this one is soooo amazing. You’ll see what I mean when you read it. All the feels! Very true to A and G even though it’s modern.

that Stark girl by xxxidrilxxx on fanfiction.net
Ahhhhh I have been looking for this story since I first read it like a year and a half ago. So bad news is it’s incomplete and hasn’t been updated since 2015. Worst possible case scenario in fan fiction, I know. BUT…if you’re willing to suffer that most awful of fates, this is an awesome modern au of the whole story, mainly focused on A & G on the run. Maybe if there’s a resurgence of popularity of the story, the author will finish…?

Not Another Coffee Shop AU by the legendary @rabbitbaratheon
Because it really isn’t just another coffee shop AU. For a self-proclaimed wary-reader-of-modern-au, I sure am recommending a lot. While you’re at this story, I’d recommend checking out all of her works!

Like Wenda by our very own darling @furious-winter
Because it’s an all our dreams come true brotherhood AU, and A & G are written SO well. And while you’re there, check out everything else by @furious-winter ! You won’t be disappointed.

If you’re looking for a reunion fic that’s tiny but huge with feelings try:
No One and Someone by AmberMagic on fanfiction.net
OR
Lead Me Back To You also by the darlingest darling @jewishstarks
Basically while you’re on Ao3 on @jewishstarks ‘s page (belasteals on ao3), read everything. She’s a gendrya fan fiction angel.

In addition, as a Gendrya fan, in case you haven’t already, you should check out @gotpresident ‘s AMAZING gendrya comics found here, here, here and here and follow her for updates!

Ok so I wanted to make this longer but I also didn’t want to make it too long so basically I’m going to compromise by waiting awhile before making another one of these, and in the meantime, go back and find all the other really good fics I was dumb enough not to bookmark. There’s so many and it feels so unfair to have put two of these out without even coming close to honoring all the incredible gendrya works out there.

Discipline

sooooo I know my last one didn’t have a plot, but this one does! I hope it makes sense and I hope you guys like this lil series I’m trying to create :-) it’s very angsty and theres some fluff I hope and also lots of husband!Harry and dad!Harry obviously :))) there’s a part 2 to this and it will be posted tomorrow (thursday night) so stay tuned my bumblebees

“You’re late.” Harry stated as his son walked through the front door and made his way towards his room. Harry’s arms were crossed in front of his chest, an old dark blue full sleeve shirt covering his upper body paired with his black sweat pants.

“Keeping track now?” Jasper shot back.

“Sorry?” Harry asked, giving Jasper a chance to reword what he had said.

“Nothing, I’m surprised you care at all.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means.”

“I don’t. Humour me.”

“What’s going on?” You asked, poking your head through the entrance of the kitchen.

Keep reading

Ruined my stepsister's birthday and got her banned from all clubs in town.

(warning: long story)

BACK STORY: When I was 12, my mom got married to a halfway decent guy. He’s not bad, but he’s not great either, but he made my mom happy and that’s all that I cared about. In fact, I cared so much about her happiness that I was willing to endure 6 years of living under the same roof as his self-obsessed, obnoxious, spoiled daughter, Amy. The entire time we lived together, she would project all of her insecurities onto me in the form of insults. Being young and wildly insecure about myself, these daily insults well and truly cut me to the core and just continued the cycle of crippling insecurity.

When I started “talking to” a boy for the first time, Kyle, she all of a sudden developed an intense infatuation with him and told me I was forbidden from communicating with him from then on. I was insecure but I was not a pushover. When I didn’t listen to her demands, she took it a step further and told Kyle I had ongoing relationships with several other boys (untrue), which he unfortunately believed. I was completely crushed. She then swooped in and took every opportunity to rub it in my face that she “won” him (i.e. inviting him to my birthday parties at home, inviting me out with her only to later reveal I would be thirdwheeling on their date, making him compliment me and then gloating about how she had such a nice boyfriend, etc). This sort of thing happened countless times, not with just boys but with friends and even workplaces! They ended up dating for two years and, although they had a nasty breakup, Kyle and I remained on good terms, which drove her up the wall. She would constantly ask me, “So did you guys hook up behind my back yet?” while claiming to have moved on already.

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2

“There’s an old poem by Neruda that I’ve always been captivated by, and one of the lines in it has stuck with me ever since the first time I read it. It says “love is so short, forgetting is so long.” It’s a line I’ve related to in my saddest moments, when I needed to know someone else had felt that exact same way. And when we’re trying to move on, the moments we always go back to aren’t the mundane ones. They are the moments you saw sparks that weren’t really there, felt stars aligning without having any proof, saw your future before it happened, and then saw it slip away without any warning. These are moments of newfound hope extreme joy, intense passion, wishful thinking, and in some cases, the unthinkable letdown. And in my mind, every one of these memories looks the same to me. I see all of these moments in bright, burning, red.”

Happy Birthday, Baby

SPN FanFic

~Dean has a surprise for your birthday~

Dean x Reader, Sam

1,132 Words

Warnings: Sickening fluff. Overuse of birthday candles. FWP (fluff without plot)

A/N: This is part of my birthday gift to my wifey, @because-imma-lady-assface. I hope you like it. Happy birthday, Ash!

~Feedback is the crack that keeps the Writing coming back~

My Masterlist  

Dean had insisted on a blindfold, and not in that sexy, “I’m gonna tease you in bed while you can’t see” kinda way.

It had taken a long moment and a reassuring nod from Sam before you agreed to let Dean tie his smelly old black bandanna around your eyes, blocking the world, and his plans, from view. He said he had a surprise, and you trusted him, so there you were. Besides, Sam was coming too, and he wouldn’t let too many shenanigans go on.

The Impala raced down the highway, though in which direction, you could not say. All attempts to discover your destination were met with roadblocks; each sly question simply earned you a laugh and a “Trust me, Baby” from the driver. It’s not like you didn’t like surprises…ok, you hated surprises. Especially far away surprises that took two Winchesters to pull off.

After what seemed like forever but was probably only an hour, Dean pulled off the smooth highway and you felt the tires roll over rocks and gravel. You heard the change in the ground so acutely; there was a crunch of dried leaves and the roll of tiny pebbles.

After a click, Dean put the Impala into park and you felt the car move as the boys exited; heard the slide of jeans on leather and the engine turning off. When your door opened, a cool breeze hit your cheeks and a deep breath spoke of trees and dirt. You smiled as a hand tapped your shoulder and then took your hand.

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Everything Has Changed - Part Two | Jughead Jones

Originally posted by purple-pizzaprincess

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: After finally coming face to face with Jughead after six years you don’t get the reception you’d exactly wanted.

Warnings: #angstyjughead

Word Count: 2162

A/N: I am sorry this is so long, omg. I tried to cut it down but I don’t want to rush straight into everything because I know personally I like seeing things progress and stuff, y’know. BUT ANYWAY. I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think <3

 PART ONE | PART THREE

It felt like time had come to a stand still as you stared across from each other. Six years. That’s how long it had been since you’d laid eyes on each other. By sheer coincidence you’d sat yourself down next to the person you’d been looking forward to seeing for all those years. He was so different yet the more you looked at him, the more you saw that he was still Jughead. He was still that boy that had made your childhood years the best they possibly could be. All you wanted to do was speak and say something but nothing came to mind. What were you even supposed to say to someone you hadn’t seen in six years? A simple hello definitely wouldn’t suffice. Thankfully for you Jughead was the first to speak up, his voice so quiet you barely caught it.

“You still have it,” he stated, his eyes locked back onto your necklace. Out of habit, your hand went to grip the little crown as you moved your gaze to glance at it too then back up to Jughead.

“Yeah. I… haven’t taken it since the day you gave me it.” Admitting that might have sounded really lame to some people but it meant the world to you. It was the one thing you had left to remind you of him and your past life in Riverdale.

For a moment you were sure you saw the hints of a smile forming on his face. He looked away from the necklace back up to you. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

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@christopherpowelllover asked for a new art piece with Chris and @gayforgayle suggested I draw my Mc and him a few weeks or months ago so that’s what I did and I’m so happy of the result!! If you hear screaming it’s me all the way from here also my back cause it’s dead since the third time I listened to can I have this dance

I love my cute dorks !! Chris is one of my favorite character to draw Mc not so much cause I always struggle to get her face right, it’s like Zig I never know how it’s gonna look HOWEVER PAINTING CHRIS’ HAIR IS TORTURE! I lost one brush that made it easier so I had to go the good ol’ way 😂 But hey it was worth it, I love my baby powell! 

Remember when they won and I said I was gonna draw them matching @kittenmusicals there! Omg 3 birds with one stone! Is that how you say it?? I’m LAME!

Anyway that’s enough rambling ! I hope the Chris’ stans get to enjoy the piece as much as I do! and boy I do ! 

The Animation quality has been butchered by tumblr once again sorry ! 

kotaku.com
Takahashi Amends Mass Effect Review
It takes a big person to admit a mistake. And it takes an even bigger reviewer to do the same thing. Dean Takahashi wrote a fairly harsh review of Mass Effect...going as far as calling it "Mass Defect" (and making it cry all night and pass out over a half-eaten box of bonbons). And now, he&#39;s taking much of it back:
By Mark Wilson

So, you might be wondering why I’m posting a 9 year old Kotaku article. Well you know that awful gameplay of Cuphead that’s been going around? They guy who played that game has apparently been in the games industry for some time. Way back when he did a Mass Effect one review that he had to retract. The reason? Well he gave the game a very negative review, going so far as to title his article “Mass Defect”, because he played through the WHOLE GAME without assigning skill points. 

“The dumb thing about the way I played the game, as many pointed out, is that I didn’t make use of my Talent Points. I started the game doing so, but while on Feros, I didn’t pay attention to all the Talent Points I was accumulating after every encounter. Those points just sat there. They were waiting for me to assign them to specific character trait improvements…A lot of positive effects flowed from this expanded repertoire in game play.”

Who keeps hiring this man? Like, clearly this is not the line of work for him.

ANYWAY games journalism is a joke. That’s all. 

Cross Them Lines - Part 1

Summary: Reader and Chris Evans have been childhood best friends. After a disastrous night out, she calls him and fluff ensues.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader (…eventually?)

A/N: This is probably going to be a few chapters long. LEAVE ME YOUR FEEDBACK! I live for those! <3


I stepped out of the club clutching my over-sized black leather jacket tighter to myself. I was cold and my little black dress clearly didn’t help.

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44335557! (17)

I DO NOT OWN THIS GIF!
Do not reuse, edit or copy and of my work(s). ©
Part 17 of an ongoing series, enjoy :)
A fanfic for a more Mature audience due to violence and language. Read at your own risk :)

Themes=😖,🌟,💣,🎭 ,. (☠️- Harm towards characters, Strong language, Mention of drugs and Adult themes.)

Summary: Your group of friends have gotten on well for years, but what happens when a divide is caused by joining the wrong people? School AU
OT5- Baekhyun, Sehun, Jongdae, Minseok and Chanyeol.

Word Count: 2,488

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20  Part 21 Part 22  Part 23 Part 24  Part 25  Part 26 Part 27  Part 28 Part 29

A/N: I said I would never be creative again, but I broke the promise because I feel like I got super creative today.

You NEED to click “Minseok’s link”, it’s part of the fic.

If it doesn’t work for you let me know, I’ll upload it separately tomorrow morning anyway. Enjoy :)


Hey, I know where Ana is.”
You had Minseok on loud speaker as you were still sat next to Jongdae in the chicken shop. His head shot up at the sound of Minseok’s voice.

“Where? Where is she!?” Jongdae bounced up from his seat as he looked at you intently; tears pooling in his waterline.

She’s at the old abandoned lot up north.” Minseok breathed as Jongdae flicked his eyes towards the phone again.

“How do you know this?” Jongdae sniffed, wiping his runny nose with the back of his sleeve as his body began to tremble ever so slightly.

I…I was on my way to go see Chanyeol just now and I overhead these two woman talking about a girl and her boyfriend heading towards an old abandoned lot; their description sounded as though it were Ana, they said she was crying and they assumed that the couple had a fault out.”
You quirked your brow and you looked down at your feet, Minseok was lying and you knew it. You weren’t sure what was going on and what he knew but he was definitely lying.

“Well let’s go and find her, what are we still standing here for?” Jongdae asked as he ran towards the doors.

Fine, meet me at central station.” Minseok hung up the phone.

The train ride there was silent and awkward. Jongdae’s leg was shaking uncontrollably; you were assuming that he was thinking about Ana; whilst Minseok was sat on your right-hand side eerily quiet something was definitely up with him but you weren’t sure that now was the right time to ask. You got off of the train 20 minutes later as Minseok led you up an alleyway which was considered the short cut to the abandoned lot. You could see the lot now; it was scary to say the least, a dark aura pouring from the area. Jongdae rushed ahead but Minseok pulled him back roughly by the wrist.

“Wait Jongdae. We don’t know what we’ll find in there, we don’t know who may be in there. We need to think this through.”

“I don’t have time to think shit through Minseok, Ana’s in there and God only know’s if she is even still alive!”
“Give me a moment.” You looked over to your side and ran into the bushes; you rummaged through for a while before emerging with a thick branch. “Weapon?” You shrugged your shoulders as you handed it over to Jongdae. He bowed as he accepted it from you and then ran off into the direction of the lot. Minseok rolled his eyes as he began to run after him.

“Come Y/N let’s stay close okay, whatever you do don’t split up.” You nodded as you followed him towards the building. Your heart beating at the base of your throat.

It was pretty dark inside and you could hardly see anything apart from what seemed to be a kerosene lamp at the end of the hall. You all walked wearily towards the lamp and what appeared to look like a figure sitting a chair.

“Oh my Goodness! Ana!” Jongdae called as he ran towards the light.

“Slow down kid.”

You jumped as you saw a dark figure move into the light from behind Ana’s chair, her eyes were opened in fear as she looked at Jongdae, trying to mumble over the tape on her mouth. You stilled in your spot as you focused on the emerging figure. The voice sounded as though you had heard it before.
“What do you think you’re doing?” You could hear the smile in the person’s voice. But you couldn’t see their face as they were wearing a black mask. “You don’t just get the girl back like that. I mean come on now, that wouldn’t be fair on us would it.”
You breathed out slowly as you saw Jongdae walk closer to the individual.

“Jongdae…” Minseok whispered shakily as he stepped a little closer. You heard a muffled cry come from Ana as she struggled against the ropes that were holding her down to the chair.

Jongdae walked forward towards her chair.
“It’s okay Ana I’ve go—”

“What do you think you are doing?!” The person pushed Jongdae backwards roughly in the chest and soon he was hurtling towards the ground; losing a grip of the branch. “Like I said you don’t just get the girl back like that.” The individual dipped there hand into their pocket and pulled out a swiss-army knife flicking it open. Your eyes widened as they lunged downwards at Jongdae, slashing his thigh. “You’re being selfish Kim Jongdae.”

You screamed as you saw blood beginning to seep through his jeans. Ana screamed as well as her eyes widened further.

“Who- who are you?” Jongdae hissed through the pain as he pressed his hand down on the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. But the individual didn’t reply.

“Y/N get out!” Minseok shouted as he pushed you backwards. “Don’t get hurt, please get out!” He ran towards the masked individual and jumped forward at them tackling them to the ground. The pair scuffled against each other as you started to hyperventilate scared that Minseok would get stabbed in the process. You wanted to move and do something but you were paralysed in your spot, staring fearfully at the commotion unfolding before your eyes.
Jongdae let out a loud painful groan as he reached for the branch and slowly and forcefully dragged himself up to his feet.
The masked individual had somehow gained the upper hand in the split second that you took your eyes off of the pair.
Now the person was on top of Minseok holding the knife close to his cheek, allowing a little bit of blood to run free from the split through his skin.

“Bastard!” Jongdae shouted as he brought the branch down hard on the back of the masked individuals back causing them to scream out in pain allowing Minseok to push the masked individual off of him, he then manoeuvred his body on top and began to repeatedly punch the individuals face. “Y/N, please get it together! Help me…Help Ana!” Jongdae wheezed sinking to the floor as he clutched onto his thigh. You blinked as you nodded your head slowly and made your way towards Ana, your legs felt like jelly and you felt as though you would drop any moment.
You creased your brows together as you struggled against the ropes tied to Ana’s wrist, ankles and torso. She slowly pulled the tape away from her mouth and let out an ear-splitting shriek.

“Jongdae!”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here!” Minseok shouted as he stood up from his space on the floor.
The other body was still, though you could still see their chest rising ever so slowly.
“Now!”
You grabbed onto Ana’s wrist as you dragged her out into the open with you, whilst Minseok swung Jongdae over his shoulder. “Who has a phone?” Minseok panted. “We need a hospital and I can’t carry him all the way. We need a taxi.”


Where did you run off too?” Sehun slurred over the phone. You rolled your eyes, he sounded helplessly drunk. You had just left Jongdae and Ana at the hospital; you and Minseok decided that the two of them needed some time to themselves. You and Minseok had parted ways soon after leaving, although you believed there were many things that Minseok needed to share with you, you decided to leave it for the time being since now wasn’t a great time. “Listen I drank so much, I drank myself into oblivion, I think I might die.”Sehun laughed drunkenly and it was making you feel dizzy and sick. “She called me. The bitch called me; my mum she fucking called. She said the divorce has just begun and she told me I’m a fucking disgrace. How dare she the stupid bitch!…” You heard him take another sip from the bottle, his lips popping away from it again. “I loathe her. I loathe them all…and Mei and Baek…and you! Where are you?! Get here or I might kill myself.”
you frowned as your heart began to bang against your chest, your palms becoming sweaty with fright and anxiety.

Don’t say those kind of things Sehun, that’s not funny.” You breathed down the phone, you looked up at the clock tower in the city central, it was already 11PM, you had better text your mum and tell her you were at Baekhyun’s you thought to yourself. She’d be okay then.

Who said I’m fucking joking…I’m not.” He took another sip from the bottle. You were tired, overwhelmed and honestly still shaken up, you wanted nothing more than to just go home and sleep, but you couldn’t take the chance, whether he was bluffing or not. You had to help him out. You groaned inwardly as you turned back to the direction you were coming from waiting for a bus towards Sehun’s direction. Your feet were sore and the thought of taking your shoes off was making you much more excited than it should have been.

Just hang on Sehun…you idiot.”

Around 20 minutes later you found yourself staring at a drunken, dishevelled Sehun who was sprawled out on the kitchen floor, still shirtless. The way that you had left him when you went to go and look for Ana. He was half way through the final bottle of alcohol and at this point you could only feel pity at how helpless and stupid he looked. Rich people had problems too.

“So you decided I was important enough, to come back to.” He scoffed as he stuck his middle finger up at you. You rolled your eyes as you walked over to him and grabbed him up by his arm.

“Get the heck up Sehun. Go to bed, I really don’t have time for this shit.”

“But you had time for Baek?” He raised his brow at you. He snaked his arm out of your grip and then proceeded to grab your wrist in place; dragging you towards the bedroom with him. He dropped down on the bed. His eyes were red as he looked up at you; his hair an absolute mess. “Sit.” He commanded you as he pointed at the space beside him.

“You’re s—”

“I said sit!” He cut you off as he shouted the command louder this time. He looked at you with an emptiness in his eyes, but it was a different type of emptiness, one that you had never seen before. His breath smelt heavily of alcohol and his hands were trembling ever so slightly. “My parents are getting divorced. They’re actually doing it…Why aren’t you comforting me?” He breathed heavily as he looked at you darkly making you lean back a little bit. “Baekhyun joining Reiji was voluntary. My parents getting a divorce, on my behalf, was involuntary. So why is it that you’re paying attention to the one with power in his hands. What the fuck do you like so much about that short fucker anyway, did you date in the past or what?”

“No we di—”

“I don’t care.” He cut you up again. “I never loved Mei.”

You creased your brows together in confusion as you looked at Sehun; he was jumping from topic to topic and now he was saying things out of the ordinary.

“You’re drunk you need sleep.” You pushed him backwards in an attempt to make him lie down on the bed but he slapped your hand away violently.

“No! I said I never fucking loved her!” He lamented profoundly as he pushed your shoulder. “Aren’t you fucking listening to me? Don’t you ever listen? I’m always telling you to not touch me but you do! Goodness! I said I never loved her, she was just high enough in class to please my parents and she’s a good listener so she’d listen to all of my problems, that’s it. Oh- and she was great in bed. Now that’s the end.” He laughed as his eyes struggled to stay open.

“Sehun you need to sleep.” You said softly, trying to keep his mood calm and level.

“You remember that day that we were about to make out in front of you. I was so proud of myself. Your face…you looked so hurt… you looked so upset…I wanted to make you so fucking jealous.” He shifted closer to you as he lay down and wrapped his left arm around your waist. You looked down to see him still staring up at you intently.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You frowned. “And get off of me.”

“I said…I wanted…to make you jealous. I wanted to make you jealous as fuck. Seeing me and Mei like that, I know it drove you mental.” He slurred as he smiled at you sadistically. “You wished you were Mei I know you did. Why were you so bothered otherwise.” He squeezed your hip as he let out a snort. At this point you were aware that Sehun was heavily intoxicated and you were trying to carry on reminding yourself that. “If it makes you feel better babe, you’re cuter than my ex. You’re a thousand times sexier, physically and mentally sweetheart.”

“No, that’s it. I’m leaving.” You pushed his hand away from your body as you rose from the bed.

“Why!” He screeched. “Why you bitch!? You just got here. Are you scared you’ll enjoy it too much if we sleep together, you think it may lead to something more. I can’t promise it won’t” You looked over your shoulder at him; his smirk was lewd and it made you want to vomit blood. “Why are you fucking running back to Byun Baekhyun! He’s the one that got you fucking injured in the first place!”

You turned on your heel as you looked at him with wide eyes.
“What are you talking about?”


Baekhyun’s P.O.V:

Baekhyun’s eyes were large with anticipation and anxiety as he began typing frantically on the keyboard.
Who is Kim Minseok’, ‘Kim Minseok’, ‘Ten Lee’ but nothing was showing up. There were so many Kim Minseok’s and Ten Lee’s and he couldn’t seem to filter through it all.

“What the fuck, why can’t I find anything?” Baekhyun whispered under his breath. He needed answers and he needed them quickly. He had been searching for a while and now and still nothing was coming up, until finally he had had enough. Rushing to his room to retrieve his phone he began to message Minseok:

Baekhyun: Who are you Kim Minseok?

Minseok: Just stay away from Reiji Baek.

Baekhyun: I said who the fuck are you Minseok?! I can’t find anything.

Minseok:  -Minseok has sent you a link-  
  //503- Ten Lee- Breaking news! #28371900#_”

Minseok: Click it.

Minseok: And don’t you breathe a word.


Tags: @mentiny @e-xing @se-fucking-hun

Chamber of Secrets - Part 14

Originally posted by ariesw1493

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: After the Avenger’s falling out, you were put in charge of putting Bucky together. Under King T’Challa’s orders, you were given a month’s time to create a new arm while simultaneously figure out how to get the triggering memories of his past out of his mind. As the time goes by, you found yourself confiding in him, despite his frozen state.

A/N: Eeeeeeeeep! It’s getting closer and closer! This one was really fun to write, I hope you guys like this one 😉

Also, kinda (very) out of topic, but mom readers out there, any tips in dealing with toddlers who just won’t fucking eat? I’m running out of ideas and I’m so damn close to a mental breakdown.  

Previous Part

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Three Chances 1/3

Ilunga (Bantu) - Someone willing to forgive a wrongdoing the first time; tolerates it the second time, but refuse to accept it a third time.

A/N: This is my entry for @howlingbarnes writing challenge. I loved writing this and I can’t wait for you guys to read it. Big shoutout to @swimmingbyrd for being my beta for all of this.

Three Chances Masterlist

Word Count: 1039


Smiling at the bouquet of flowers in your hands, you read and reread the card that was gently placed between a beautiful daisy and a gorgeous lily.

So excited for our date tomorrow. Love Bucky.

Placing the flowers in a vase, you grabbed your phone, deciding to send Bucky a small thank you text. Sending it, you ended up waiting near your phone, making sure it was always with you.

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Aphrodisiac - (Negan x Female)

@This is the first fic I have ever written.Feedback is SUPER welcome. If people enjoy this, I’ll write a part 2. 

I chose the Valentine’s Day prompt from flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash’s 2k Writing Challenge. I did pick the prompt as @asshatry but I’m posting it here on my new side blog. 

I want to give a BIG THANK YOU to @my-achilles–heel for not only editing this, but for making me feel so welcome in the thirst squad. <3 You’re the best.

Warnings: Fluff and a little bit NSFW 

Synopsis: Negan wants to make her his next wife. She’s always turned him down, but now it’s Valentine’s Day and that man can be persistent…. 

I woke up that morning already in a bad mood. Maybe I had slept funny or was tossing and turning again. I wasn’t really sure. I kicked my legs over the edge of the bed and stretched, hoping the movement of my muscles would cause an overall feeling of relaxation. It did, but the feeling subsided way too quickly and I cursed softly under my breath. It was going to be a long day.

Then I remembered what day it was.

Valentine’s Day.

The dreaded, lovey-dovey holiday for all the romantic couples looking to rub it in everyone’s faces that their love is pure and strong. Bleh.

Somehow there was a silver lining to the dead coming back to life because the heart shaped candies and roses were a thing of the past. Now, holidays were a little more toned down, and I kind of preferred that.

I had been living at The Sanctuary for only a few weeks and before that, I hadn’t even known what day it was. Little things like that didn’t matter when it came to survival. But here, in this world…in his world, I could embrace those little things again. The date. The time. Being safe was a luxury that allowed attention to detail.

But there was a reason I was dreading today, and his name was Negan.

Originally posted by rikkisixx

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anonymous asked:

Can u write something about abdorable fluffy sterek with derek having lots of siblings and stiles and them have good relationships and are friendly and talk and hangout in school and oit of school??

“So,” Cora said as she slid into the empty spot next to Stiles at the lunch table.

Stiles looked up to see not only Cora but Derek’s brothers Shawn and Eli, and one of their other sisters Ariana.

“Hales – can I help you?” Stiles asked slowly.

“You have a crush on our brother,” Eli said.

“Who? Devin? The kid is like 7 that’d be weird if I had a crush on him guys,” he tried to say calmly.

“Very funny Stilinski. But, we happen to know that Derek likes you too so maybe you should make a move. Believe it or not, we like you and think you’re good for our brother,” Ariana said.

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