sorry for a bunch of tags i just really want to help her out :)

Misfire [Chapter 1]

Summary: The four times Bucky tries to ask you out and fails.

Warnings: couple of swear words, that’s all!

a/n: I’ve got two parts scheduled for Friday and Saturday, then the next two updates are only next week!

The Scent



Ever since you had been assigned to the world’s mightiest dorks superheroes, it had been evident to everyone that you were the light of James Buchanan Barnes’ life. 

The man practically turned into someone else around you, with soft smiles and longing stares, paired with the subtlest (not really) heart eyes. 

“Why don’t you just ask her out on a date?” Steve questioned, leaning his chin on his palm.

“I can’t just ask her out! She deserves so much more,” Bucky argued. “Plus, she’s too good for me.” His voice quietened as he proceeded to once again belittle himself.

Steve sighed. “We’ve been over this before, Buck. You’re just the same as everyone here, even Y/N. Why don’t you take a chance and ask her out? She’s just as infatuated with you as you are with her.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Tony quipped as he strolled into the adjoined kitchen. “He basically goes mushy whenever she’s in the same room. She’s got him wrapped around her finger.”

“I am not!” Bucky protested indignantly, heat creeping up his neck.

“You kinda are,” Steve admitted, earning a glare from Bucky, which soon morphed into a look of defeat.

“How do I ask her to dinner?” He finally gave in, alternating looks between Tony and Steve.

“Why don’t you buy her flowers or something? It’s always a nice gesture,” Steve said thoughtfully as Bucky’s ears perked up. 

“Maybe I’ll do that. Thanks Steve! Fuck you Tony!” he shouted gleefully before sprinting away as the latter exclaimed a ‘Hey!’, offended.


Bucky scratched the back of his neck, stopping outside your room. His nervous, sweaty palms grasped a bouquet of flowers he thought you’d like.

He let out an exhale as he raised his fist, knocking on the door thrice before dropping his hand. 

A moment later, the door opened to reveal your radiant smile as he swallowed thickly and forced himself to give you a smile back. 

“H-hey Y/N.”

“Oh hey Bucky.” You smile widened as you opened the door a little more. You were in sweats and a t-shirt since it was your day off, and the sounds of a movie played from your room.

“I, uh, I brought you some flowers,” he stammered, pushing his wrist forward as you caught sight of the beautiful bunch.

“They’re gorgeous!” you exclaimed, letting go of the door to accept them. As your fingers brushed against his for less than a second, Bucky could swear he felt electricity jolt up his arm.

“Do you like them?” he asked anxiously, his hands making its way to the back of his neck again in a fit of nerves.

“I love them.” You grinned, taking a big whiff of them, inhaling the scent.

“That’s good.” He laughed nervously, stalling the conversation.

“Not that these aren’t lovely or anything, but why’d you suddenly bring me these?” you asked, frowning when your nose twitched uncomfortably. That’s new.

“I, um, I thought that you’d like them and, uh,-” He tried desperately to just throw it out there, but was suddenly interrupted by a large sneeze.

You rubbed your nose as you sniffed, looking at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“I thought that maybe, uh, maybe you’d-” 

Achoo!” 

His eyebrows shot up in surprise as you looked annoyed.

“I’m sure I haven’t caught a cold, I don’t know why I’m sneezing. I’m so sorry Bucky, go on.” You felt terrible for interrupting him again, but that didn’t stop you from sneezing again.

And again.

And again.

“Are you okay?” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed together in concern.

“I don’t know what’s going on- achoo!” You broke off your own sentence to much of your annoyance.

Bucky examined you carefully until his gaze dropped to the flowers clutched in your hands. Almost immediately his eyes widened in horror.

You followed his stare until you looked at the bouquet, realisation dawning on you. “Oh.”

“Are you… are you allergic to flowers?” he asked in shock, feeling immensely guilty.

“Not that I know of- achoo!” You wanted to jump off a cliff. “I guess it’s only this type. I’ve never seen them before.”

“Oh God, I’m- I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t know-” ‘Shit, shit, shit, shit’ was the only thing running through his head at that moment. How does one royally fuck up flowers?!

“You didn’t know, how is it your fault? Even I didn’t know.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his horrified expression, cutting your sentence off with another sneeze.

“Sh-should I get you you something, like a tablet or soup or something?” The poor guy didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t ask you out after giving you an allergy you didn’t even know about!

“I’ll be fine.” You giggled, rubbing your nose. 

“Should I take them away?” He gestured awkwardly to the flowers, not knowing how to be helpful.

“As much as I don’t want to part with them, I think you should.” You stretched them back to him as he took it with a drop of his shoulders, jumping when you sneezed again.

“Thank you though, Bucky. They’re really beautiful.” You tried to make him feel better about his unfortunate situation.

“I’lll leave you alone now. I hope you feel better soon, Y/N. I’m so sorry.” He smiled wearily back at you as he turned on his heel, trudging away disappointedly.

“She rejected you?” Tony blabbered with a mouth full of apple.

“I gave her a fucking allergy,” he said miserably making Tony choke on his food as he gasped for air.

“How’d you manage to fuck up flowers?”

“I have no idea.”

Chapter 2


TAGGING:

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Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

Modern Amis (and co.) Coming-Out Headcanons

(I don’t even remember how the subject came up but @beatlemaniacinthetardis and I were taking about the Amis getting together at someone’s house and telling each other stories from when they came out of the closet. We stayed up way too late last night coming up with these so we felt the need to share) 

Bahorel comes out to his family when he goes downstairs in the rainbowest of rainbow shirts, announces that he’s going to Pride, and just sort of stares at each of them until they understand.

Courfeyrac realizes he’s gay in his preteen years and it takes him like a year to work up the courage to come out to his friends (Enjolras and Combeferre) and family (mom and dad). When he tells them they all just go “sweetie, we know”. Enjolras and Combeferre bake him a confetti cake that says CONGRATS in edible glitter. Courfeyrac cries. 

Feuilly doesn’t really have anyone to come out to, since he has no living relations and he went straight into a job at a young age. He kind of…forgets to, to be honest, so he’s not out to his co-workers. They only find out when Bahorel comes to get him from work one day and he kisses Feuilly hello.  

Like in canon, Cosette grows up into a pretty girl who loves attention. She’s very meticulous about the way she looks and is like nice when she notices guys checking her out. One day, though, a pretty girl smiles at her and does the checking-out thing and Cosette is like oh no when she feels her heart do the THING. She tells papa later that evening, and he’s amazing and supportive because, well, he’s Jean Valjean. He joins her marching in the Pride parade the following summer. 

Enjolras’ coming out doesn’t go so well. He’s pretty much known he likes boys since forever ago, but only tells his parents at the end of high school. His parents are cold and arrange a Nice Girl for him to marry at the age of 25 or whatever. Enjolras fights with them on it, but when they continue to stand firm he decides they don’t deserve to be in his life anyway. He moves in with Combeferre, who he came out to years ago.

Joly and Bossuet, who have basically known each other since birth, come out to each other before anyone else. They then make a pact to come out to their friends and family on the same day. Bossuet’s parents don’t take it so well–his dad is pissed, and his mom tries to push him to go back to church. His friends, too, say “yeah that’s cool” but he can tell every time he says something that even approaches the subject of his sexuality that they’re weird about it. Joly’s, on the other hand, went well. His friends start teasing him like “yeah man I bet you thought you had appendicitis the first time you saw a guy you liked” and stuff, but they’re cool with it. Joly’s family ends up pretty much adopting Bossuet, too. Bossuet’s parents come knocking for him one day and Joly’s four younger siblings work together to slam the door in their face. (Bonus: since those two have a hivemind, they tell each other about being poly the same day.)

The subject of their combined affections, Musichetta, was a total badass about her coming out. She told her parents straight up that she was poly/pan. They were not sold on the idea, but she told them to accept her as she was or she’d leave without a second thought. It takes them a while to get used to the idea, but Chetta answers whatever questions they have. They grow to understand her, and come to love Joly and Bossuet once the three of them start dating.

Jehan has a hard time with it all. They WANT to come out, to family and friends alike, but they want to understand themselves before they try and explain it to anyone else. They tell this to the Amis who are all just like…you don’t have to ever figure it out. It’s alright. No matter who you are or what you do or who you love, we’ll be here to support you. Jehan cries really hard because they’ve been so confused for so long and their found family is saying that it’s okay to be unsure forever because who needs a title anyway? The greatest of group hugs happens that day, Jehan smiling in the centre of it. (Bonus: shortly after that, Jehan asks the Amis to start saying “they/them”. Grantaire buys a ton of neutral-looking clothes with gross flower print that he knows Jehan will LOVE. Enjolras falls in love with R a lil bit more since he knows he doesn’t have all that much money but he spent a bunch of it for Jehan to be happy and comfortable anyway).

Combeferre comes out to all his friends shortly after he meets them, but he never comes out to his family at all. He knows they’re homophobic, and a) he doesn’t like to start fights, and b) he decides that they don’t deserve to know. In an act of silent rebellion, he secretly gets a part-time job as a sales guy at a boot shop for drag queens. Courfeyrac’s the shop’s #1 customer. (Kinky Boots AU someone back me up here)

While Marius is almost entirely on the straight side, but every so often he’ll meet a man who sets his little Pontmercy heart aflutter. Courf is one of those guys and when they end up roommates Marius kind of…”aksdjasgkdhdh Lord save my poor bisexual soul”. But then he meets Cosette. He doesn’t tell her for ages because he’s terrified of what she’ll think, but eventually he works up the courage. She laughs because hey she’s bi too!! From that point on, they point out attractive people of various genders to each other while they’re on dates. (Bonus: one day, Marius and his grandfather get into an argument about politics over dinner. In a moment of passion, Marius stands and yells “LONG LIVE NAPOLEON! ALSO, I SOMETIMES LIKE BOYS!” His grandfather faints into his chair.)

Eponine never really had friends, so she has no frame of reference for what romantic attraction feels like. When she meets Marius, she figures instantly that what she’s feeling is romantic love. Shortly after, she meets Cosette and feels the same way. Now she’s confused. And then she meets the rest of the Amis and feels the same way about ALL of them. It’s very strange to have a crush on everyone, she thinks. With Grantaire and Jehan’s help, she comes to understand that what she’s feeling is, in fact, platonic love. And god, is she relieved to know. The only family members she tells about being aro/ace are Gavroche and Azelma. Azelma is like “I think that might be me too” and Gav is like “sweet, more lovely ladies for me”.

FINALLY, Grantaire. He’s never really given a shit about what gender his lovers were, and never given a shit about who knows about it. He doesn’t know or care whether or not his parents know. But oh, god, then he meets Enjolras, and can no longer imagine loving anyone else of any gender. When the Amis share their coming out stories, he just snorts and says ‘does it count if you’re only attracted to one person?’ and he accidentally stares at Enj as he says it and the Amis collectively suck in a breath because if they didn’t know who he was talking about before, they certainly do now.  (Bonus: Everyone braces themselves when Enj stands up and goes to R, thinking Enj is going to try and start shit, but they start applauding when instead Enjolras grabs Grantaire’s face and kisses the life out of him). 

Rocket Men: Part One

Summary: Internationally celebrated crew of Patriot Three, a rag-tag group of astronauts, assimilate back into life on Earth after months in space.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson, Chris “Thor” Odinson, Tom “Loki” Odinson, Wanda Mamixoff, Scott Lang, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, and more.

Warnings: space related nerdery, violence, sex, drugs, drinking, cheating, lying, humor, angst, language, sadness, happiness, and more. Reader beware.

Author’s Note: Well, well, well. Here we are, sitting on the brink of the future. I (among of a bunch of you) am obsessed with space. I wanted to be an astronaut as a child but it turns out, you have to like… know stuff… to go to space so I will forever be stuck to planet Earth. So, second best, you get a series where I live out my fantasies of being apart of the NASA/Space exploration family.

Please note: This series is set in the year 2060 and it is really, really, really the definition of an “au” (alternate universe), so much so… you could call it… original content. **GASP.**

I got a lot of feedback about this series and I am super excited to see it come to life. Not only will I be posting the main story line, I will be creating other things to really bring my ‘verse to life like: interviews with the astronauts, profiles, letters, articles, etc.

I’m sorry @vintagevalentinexx. <3

Enjoy, Earthlings. -Ash

Keep reading

Alright

So I’m angry at everything and the world and I’m especially angry

about the fucking fanfic called I Hate Love You.

I was going to do the n///ame thing so it won’t come up in tags but lol sorrynotsorry this kind of needs to be seen so here we go

Let me just come right out and say it: This fanfic is problematic because it deals with abuse, victim-blaming (so much fucking victim blaming), drugging, manipulation, blackmailing, and a whole bunch of other problems.

If you read this fic, and even if you don’t, I really fucking hope you don’t sympathize with Adrien past the first half of the first chapter or whatever.

This version of Adrien doesn’t deserve forgiveness, happiness, a second chance. He doesn’t deserve sympathy. The next thing you’re gonna tell me is that if some man drugged a girl in real life and took suggestive photos to blackmail her with, that he should be forgiven for it if he “does everything he can to get forgiveness.” If you wouldn’t sympathize with someone who does that to your friend or any stranger, then you’d better not fucking sympathize with it in this fic.

“Oh but Megatraven!! Fanfiction isn’t real, sweaty!!!” you say.

Yeah, fanfic isn’t real. But do you know what is? Being affected by a fanfic. If people think what’s happening in this fic is okay, they’re going to wind up romanticizing abuse and won’t see it as a problem when it is. Fanfic can impact a person’s mind and thoughts, just like reading any book can.

There are a lot of younger people in the fandom, people who aren’t even out of high school yet, and when a fic as popular as this victim-blames and makes a sympathizer out of you for a very abusive person, then it’s going to affect the way they think. They’re going to go out in the world (or maybe experience it young, even) and they’re going to get hurt and be expected to forgive someone that hurt them for fear of being blamed for it all.

In this fanfiction, Marinette made one mistake. Just one. She snapped at him. Then she apologized. But he decided to make her life hell.

He made her look bad in front of everyone.

He drove away her friends, or made them (Alya included) try to convince her to be nice to him.

He abused his miraculous’ power to get in good with Marinette (who was crushing on him) and made her trust him.

He stole her first kiss as Adrien, and her second as Chat Noir near immediately after.

He drugged her so that she would stay sleeping, and then proceeded to touch her (without consent!!!) to make sure he got some nice photographs that made it look like she was taking advantage of him and proceeded to blackmail her into being his girlfriend with them.

Nobody heard her cries for help, they just saw them and went “awww cute couple!”

He apparently fell in love with her through all of this. (That’s really fucking unhealthy and disgusting, falling in love with the girl you’re manipulating and abusing and forcing to be with you.)

She found out he was Chat Noir, and was rightfully upset and devastated and hurting. She made him stay away from her, and she told him what he is- a monster who doesn’t deserve to say he loves her or is sorry or full of regret.

TIKKI! OH BOY GUYS, LISTEN TO WHAT TIKKI FUCKING SAID. SHE SAID “Aww he tried to apologize!” BECAUSE APPARENTLY SAYING “SORRY FOR DESTROYING YOU AND ABUSING YOU” MEANS YOU SHOULD FORGIVE HIM. She also tries to defend him. “Maybe he was just confused?” Yeah fucking right.

Anyways, he felt bad, so he told Nino, Alya, and Chloe what he did to her. Nino tries to defend his actions a tiny bit, Alya is furious, and Chloe wants to help him fix the situation.

Tikki lectures Marinette on forgiving him for herself, not for him, but you know???? You don’t have to fucking forgive anybody if you don’t want to. Maybe it works for some people, but it doesn’t work for everyone.

oh then HERE COMES THE BEAUTIFUL (read: HORRIBLE) PART: CHLOE SAYS THEY’LL ONLY BOTH BE HAPPY IF THEY’RE TOGETHER. SORRU BUT IT DOESN’T WORK THAT WAY, CHLO.

MANAGES TO GET ALYA AND NINO ON HER SIDE, TO TRY AND GET MARI AND ADRIEN BACK TOGETHER BECAUSE “They’ll be happier together”

And then

And fucking then

they decide to make Marinette and Adrien meet. Because, you know, Marinette’s unhappiness is because she’s only heartbroken, not because she was drugged, abused, manipulated, used, etc. Because seeing her abuser and talking things out is the only way to solve the problem.

They made her sit down and eat lunch with him or some shit

god there’s so much more and i stopped reading around here because I couldn’t fucking deal anymore, but i’ve watched some live reads of it and also skimmed some of the time and basically

Adrien gives her space and time and when they get together again, because Marinette somehow still loves him, he gets super clingy and over protective and Marinette doesn’t like it at all. She needs more space and time and he tires to give it to her, all the while victim-blaming and guilting her because he’s “done everything [he] can to earn her forgiveness” wHEN HE SHOULD DAMN WELL KNOW HE HASN’T

he ends up giving her his miraculous and leaves france for a few years?? Plagg is a fucking asshole and tells Marinette he gave up his happiness for her own as if he deserves happiness after everything that happened

So anyways

A lot of the readers (if you don’t believe me, read the comments on the fic holy shit) find that Marinette is being a bitch who should forgive Adrien because he’s said sorry and given her a few things

and they find Adrien as a perfect little angel who did some bad things but doesn’t deserve how he’s being treated now because apparently Mari said they was okay but decides she wasn’t ready to completely forgive him yet and that she needs more space.

They think what he’s done for forgiveness and out of ‘’’’love’’’’ means what he did to her doesn’t matter anymore

Let’s also, just for a moment, touch on this very problematic thing:

THE AUTHOR

MADE

A

POLL

AND 67% OF THE PEOPLE WHO TOOK IT

SAID ADRIEN DESERVES FORGIVENESS

the author also says “ After [these polls] please, don’t come shouting to me that you’ve got traumatized because the story is so … “traumatizing”. If you don’t like it, don’t read it.”

IF IT’S PROBLEMATIC AND GROSS AND TERRIBLE NO ONE SHOULD BE READING IT BUT YA KNOW

I GUESS IT’S OKAY BECAUSE YOU HAD SOME POLLS AND PEOPLE CAN’T RECOGNIZE PROBLEMATIC THINGS AS PROBLEMATIC

I don’t fucking care if you personally don’t find this shit problematic, it doesn’t change the fact that it is.

Unfollow me if you sympathize with Adrien in this fic. Unfollow me or talk to me so that I can explain in more detail why he does not deserve sympathy, forgiveness, happiness, or really anything people seem to think he does.

Edit: I know I didn’t put everything I could have into this, but trust that there is a ton more wrong in that story.

a pretty good bad idea (1/?)

pairing: Trini/Kimberly (Power Rangers

words: 2097

summary: With great power comes unexpected and awkward side effects. Also: kissing lessons. (Isn’t that how the saying goes?)

a/n: Guess who saw Power Rangers and is predictable trash? Guess who loves all that trope-y cheesiness? Guess who doesn’t remember how to write, but is doing it anyways? Me me me. Anyways, I tried to bring the cheese, my friends, but I’m just not capable of writing poetry like ‘Are we Power Rangers or are we friends?’. Alas.

AO3 Link here!

WARNING for @smallandsundry : there is KISSING in this fic. (Also, no bear rangers.) Please avert your eyes.

Keep reading

sarcasm | jughead x reader

Originally posted by jughead-thethird

request

written by: kelly

edited by: @jugheadxreaderinyourhead

anonymous said: hi for the prompt thing, can you do #18 w/ jughead? thanks 💫

prompt: 18- “you and your sarcasm suck”

chapter song: me & mr jones / amy winehouse.

moving schools was always hard. you would think that i would have gotten used to it by now. 6 schools in 3 years, spread across 5 states.

my parents were never on the best of terms. they were teenagers when they had me and that was the start of their adult life.

my mom re-married and moved to germany because my stepdad was in the army. all of the moving schools was due to the army life we married into.

i never really grew up with my dad in my life. he was a trouble maker and my mom didn’t appreciate his carelessness. he moved to riverdale when I was 3, and I hadn’t seen him since.

I’m now a 16 year old and this is the first time i’ll be living with him. i’m nervous, but at least he is letting me stay with him and his girlfriend.

we pull up to a trailer park called sunnyside. the sign was faded from sun damage, making me laugh a little bit at the irony of the situation.

the cab slowly stopped in front of an older trailer with caution. i slowly get out of the cab, grab my cases and take it to the front.

i notice that the second i close my door the cab driver sped off. the trailer has a sticker on the door that reads welcome to the snake den.

interesting. i knock on the front door three times, not sure where to look.

almost instantly a tall blonde lady opens the door. she was beautiful, but she looked hungover. she looked me up and down, not with a bad attitude but with curiosity.

“can i help you?” she questioned, hesitance present in her voice.

“um, is danny here?” i answer.

a look of clarity spread across her face.

“you must be y/n.” the stranger stated, leaning against the doorway smiling.

“yeah.” I blurt out.

“i’m lana, your dads girlfriend.” she announced.

“nice to meet you.” i uttered, super shy for some reason.

she then gestured for me to come in - so I grabbed my bags and I walked into the dingy trailer.

It looked like it had just been cleaned, the windows were open and there was a small arrangement of flowers in an old beer bottle. they were rose’s.

she then had me follow her to a small bedroom. the bedsheets were pink and there was a small desk in the corner of the room.

“by the way your dad speaks about ya I was expecting a little girl to walk through that door, but you’re not so little anymore. you’re stunning.” She insisted, the compliment making me blush.

“he talks about me?” I question, cocking an eyebrow in disbelief.

“oh god, all the damn time. there’s a photo of you and him next to his bed.” she states matter-of-factly.

“where is he?” I ask

.“oh um-uh- he’s at work, he’ll be back real soon.” she acknowledged.

after that brief conversation with lana, I began to unpack my stuff. i set up my laptop and i went onto my blog. writing gave me clarity and was a calming release for me.

all thoughts were interrupted when I heard a car roar past the trailer. the doors opened and I heard a whole bunch of guys laughing and yelling.

I heard a soft knock on my door and then it was followed by lana telling me that my dad was back. that’s when my nerves hit.

i adjusted my hair into a pony tail and i stepped out of my room. as i walk out i bump into a tall, black haired boy. his eyes were deep blue and we stared at one another for a second.

“oh sorry.” i say trying to avoid eye contact. he was hot and i was embarrassed.

silence entered the room at a record setting speed. dead silence. all of a sudden a look of relief washed upon the mysterious strangers face.

“you’re y/n, right?” he asked, raking his long fingers through his thick hair.

“yeah.” i nodded, while realising this question would be a re-occurring one.
while looking at the tall, dark and handsome guy, I noticed he had a cool leather jacket on. it appeared to be vintage, but it gives him this look. like a mixture of a young james dean and young leo dicaprio.

“i think i need to go and you know, see danny.” i mumble, doing that awkward rock on my heels people do when they want to leave a room.

the cute stranger smiles and carries on towards the restroom. the back of his jacket has two embroided snakes on it. southside serpents. pretty cool if I do say so myself. must be their school football team.

as i exit the small hallway i’m greeted by loud cheers, filling the small trailer. i get a bit of a fright, looking around at all these smiley strangers.

tall and scary men, some older and some look around my age. tattoos and matching leather jackets. i see a man get up and walk over to me.

younger looking guy, tons of tattoos. it’s danny, i can tell. we have the same eyes.

“good to see you again, y/n.” he smiled, giving me a massive squeeze.

“hey danny.” I reply, returning the smile.

we sat down and started taking with all the guys and i can promise you this, i’ve never laughed so much in my whole entire life. the tall and handsome boy was sitting in the middle of the crowd, looking at me. with some sudden ball of courage, i ask him a question.

“i have a camera if you wanna use it.” i snicker.

the boy goes red and the crowd busts up laughing. all of them turning to danny saying i’m just like him.

“you and your sarcasm suck..” the boy states matter-of-factly, looking up at me with the most wonderful half smile.

“well i’d like to credit you for that powerful statement, but i don’t have your name.” i answer back.

“jughead jones.” and with that unusual introduction, i got handed my own leather jacket. it was the day I met my future husband and the day the future queen of the southside serpents was born.

tag list: @hauntedcherryblossombanana-blog @sadbreakfastclb @jugandbettsdetectiveagency @kindfloweroflove@fragilefrances @mydelightfulcollectiontyphoon@onceuponagladerhead@natalieroseg@sardonic-jug @hiimalyssawriter

【 50% OFF STARTER MEME 】

This starter meme is completely based off of THIS starter meme right here, it’s just in a different format to accommodate players with multiple accounts as opposed to just one!! I take no credit for it and if you want to appreciate the content, give the blog a follow, please!!

  • “You can’t have sex with your neighbor’s backyard above-ground pool.”
  • “Let me help you out of that swimsuit– POOL.”
  • “I sure hope we become best friends! But I don’t hope we have a falling out, leading us to have a tense, emotion-heavy, dramatic, competitive, love/hate relationship later on.”
  • “So, anyways, I regain consciousness, there’s cops everywhere, (name) is covered in blood, got an ice-pick– haha, it was kind of a weird Tuesday.”
  • “We’re gonna be late for anime school!”
  • “I’m just saying, is it illegal if I’m in my OWN pool?”
  • “WHAT’S UP SLUTS?! GUESS WHO JUST GOT OUT OF PRISON?!”
  • “(name) WAS A BITCH-ASS POSER.”
  • “Oh no, he’s hot when he’s sad!”
  • “This reminds me of prison. This reminds me of prison. This DEFINITELY reminds me of prison.”
  • “Look at that little pimp. He’s gonna grow up to be a prison ass mothafucka.”
  • “Let’s skip all the fluff and get to the part where we’re shirtless.”
  • “Homeboy looks like shark week, I ain’t messin’ with that.”
  • “It wasn’t a dream! We got arrested for trespassing! We went to JAIL!”
  • “Nah, man, we went to holding. There’s a big difference.”
  • “Yeah now we owe Easter Dave a favor– that is NOT a position you wanna be in.”
  • “Wouldn’t we have seen him around by now? I mean he is a bipedal shark-person.”
  • “I’VE GOT MACE!”
  • “Was macing us really necessary AFTER you remembered who we were?!”
  • “You took the fall for me and I said thank you.”
  • “I went to jail!”
  • “I spent 6 months at a correctional facility!”
  • “I stabbed a girl in the yard!”
  • “I think that guard you killed had a family!”
  • “Look at that majestic ass mothafucka. Like a dolphin or some shit. A dolphin with legs… and arms… and a jet pack.”
  • “BITCH GET IN THE POOL!”
  • “That’s how they do it in Australia.”
  • “20 bucks on jabber jaws.”
  • “Hey, man did you TiVo Glee last night?”
  • “I’m not allowed to watch Glee, my dad says it might turn me into something bad. A musical theater major.”
  • “Neither one of them even died!”
  • “They won’t let me back into sewing club because apparently when I threaten someone with sewing needles it’s deemed ‘inappropriate’ and I 'have to leave’.”
  • “I have to tumblr this!”
  • “A guy with emotional issues who swims away his problems? Lady, that’s the whole team, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”
  • “I ship them! And them!”
  • “They hate each other, but they also fuck each other!“
  • “Hey, we try not to get this part of the gym wet so whatever you’re doing is gonna have to stop.”
  • “So do you wanna come back to my place, listen to some Dave Matthews, and talk about my work out routine?”
  • “I wonder if that stuff I hid is still here? … Nah, cops probably took it.”
  • “Do you know? Do you know for sure? Because I don’t need another incident.”
  • “If I get out of this chair, I guarantee you’ll end up in one with wheels.”
  • “Okay. I’ll admit, I’m a little threatened.”
  • “‘Sup bitches!~”
  • “Aren’t you that guy who drowned a kid? And burned down that building?”
  • “Get back to it before you learn a lesson in post-war, urban torture practices.”
  • “Remember, snitches get stitches!”
  • “Shut up, you’re high as balls!”
  • “You’re just mad because mom and dad thought you were a girl for the first year of your life.”
  • “Right, son. And speaking of crushing disappointments—”
  • “Coach tried to get me to vandalize a police station again.”
  • “Good thing I wore my Heelies.”
  • “He’s so hot but so crazy! Which makes him even MORE hot!”
  • “Come on, let me get those digits baby!”
  • “It should be illegal to be that fine!”
  • “Oh, just basic addition and subtraction. He was subtracting from my profits so I’m going to add a few extra holes in him.”
  • “This doesn’t seem like the time for polka-renditions of Ke$ha songs.”
  • “I hate it when you leave but I love watching you go.”
  • “Yeah, I’ve seen him. He’s in my scrapbook class. He cuts the eyes out of magazine photos.”
  • “Your arrest record is extensive… and amateur.”
  • “The fact that you continue to avoid indefinite incarceration is insanity AND THE FACT THAT OUR LAW ENFORCEMENT CAN’T PUT AWAY SOMEONE WITH SUCH BLATANT DISREGARD FOR CONVENTIONAL CRIMINAL FUNCTION BAFFLES THE MIND.”
  • “I want that boy to be my bride!”
  • “Pilates will do that, man, works your core.”
  • “What are we waiting for? Let’s go bro! Let’s g’bro!”
  • “Wow, you sure said that.“
  • “WOOP! WOOP! Hold it, I’m gonna have to pull you over for exceeding recommended hotness.”
  • “One time, we went camping in the woods, I just left 'em there. Nobody found them for like 5 days. I don’t even think their families cared, kinda sad, really.”
  • “So, what you’re saying is, if they disappeared, no one would notice?”
  • “Well I’ve gotta go not talk to you anymore.”
  • “I learned how to swim the old fashioned way. When I was five my dad took me out to a lake and tossed me right in the water.”
  • “I’m so happy right now! — And it’s not just ‘cause I get to see you in a bunch of different swimsuits. Okay, I lied, I’m sorry, that’s mostly the reason.”
  • “SHE’S A WITCH! PUSH HER IN THE POOL!”
  • “Hey, I know you! You helped me smuggle some stuff out of the country! How’ve you been, kid?”
Work it Out (P.2)

Bucky x Reader

Summary: after pulling a muscle on a mission, you need to stretch out your leg while working out. But you need help to do so. There’s only one person around to help.

Word Count: 1260

Warnings: none? i don’t even think i cursed!

A/N: you guys are so freaking sweet. I got so many requests for a part 2. All your feedback made me feel fuzzy inside. Tags are so confusing no lie but I do cuz you guys are great :) You’ve asked, and I’ve delivered 💛


I half expected someone to rush in after me the moment I closed my bedroom door. I half expected the boys to apologize immediately and admit they were being assholes. Neither of those things happened, and honestly, I didn’t know how I felt about it. I truly did want to be left alone, but the fact that they didn’t even try put me off.

It’s nearly eleven now, and I’m trying to stay awake by watching Disney movies. My arms are wrapped around my elephant pillow, one of the only things I owned from my childhood. I remember the first time someone saw it. It was Clint. He spotted it while we were packing to go on a government conference in Brazil. I was in the lounge, tucking the pillow into my bag when he plucked it out and examined it with a smile on his face.

“Barton!” I’d yelled. I reached for it, but he dodged me, laughing and yelling out to Wanda in the next room.

“Look what I found!” Wanda emerged by the door, glancing curiously at the pillow. “I found it in Y/N’s bag. Look how cute!” he laughed. Wanda shook her head and a pulse of red radiated around her fingers. The pillow was yanked out of his hands by the same pulse and placed it on the table next to me.

“Don’t be mean, Clint, or should I tell her about the picture you have framed in your bedroom of you with Chuck-E-Cheese?” she smirked. I smiled wide and turned to Clint, whose cheeks tinted a slight shade of pink.

Now, sitting on my bed with the pillow, I realize how tired I am of living with a bunch of childish boys. It really was difficult, dealing with their idiocy.

“I need a day off.” I mutter. My stomach growls loudly, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since this morning. I sigh, knowing the inevitability of having to leave my room. I pause my second time rendition of The Princess and the Frog and tiptoe out of bed. My ear goes up against the cool wooden door, trying to spot any noise. Once the coast is clear, I twist the doorknob and pull, letting my eyes dart down the hall. No one is around. My feet barely touch the ground as I shuffle-jog down to the kitchen, wincing ever so slightly at the pressure on my leg. Once I’ve reached it, I open up a cupboard for the granola bars. I find the box and pull it out, running back to my room.

The door shuts softly behind me, and I un-pause the movie and reach into the box, coming up empty handed. I swear there were some in there earlier today. I reach in again, this time pulling out a slip of folded paper. My face knits into a frown as I unfold it. I instantly recognize the sprawled handwriting as Bucky’s. Exhaling slowly, I begin to read.

If you’re reading this, it means that I either know you too well, or you have an unhealthy obsession with chocolate chip granola bars. I think it may be a bit of both. If you ever want to see your precious bars again, you’ll read this note and follow the instructions in it.

They’re idiots. You know that. And before you get upset about them not apologizing, blame me. I was the one who told them you wouldn’t listen. You’re stubborn that way. I’m writing this because you’re not mad at me (I think), so I know you will be merciful (I hope).

Essentially, they’ve been trying to get us together. They were hoping that what happened was you and me bonding or something like that. They admitted it to me once I started lecturing them. Even though they show it oddly, they have good intentions. Men are really dumb that way, because even when they care about you a lot, they don’t really know how to show it. Trust me, I’d know.

I know you’re probably hungry, so come down to the screen room right now. We’ll be waiting. Please don’t make us wait.

Buck

I sigh, grudgingly trying to keep a smile off my face. Bucky was never one to have a sense of humour, but he knew when to insert it. I pause the movie again, cutting of Tiana’s solo, and pull myself off the bed. My feet pitter patter to the door, down the hall, across the floor. The door to the screen room is open, and I hesitate before stepping in front of the entrance. I nearly gasp at the sight.

The room is filled with granola bars. I mean, filled. There’s a small pile on each surface in the room and some cover the ground. I chuckle slightly at the silliness of it, my eyes finally landing on them. Every single one of the my teammates, all sitting on a couch next to one another. Clint, Sam, Steve, Tony, Wanda, Nat, Vision, and Bucky. They look down at the ground, or up at me. By the end of the sofa, Bucky sits with his arms crossed, gazing at me. I smile, shaking my head. “You are insane.” I say to no one in particular. Tony is the first to get up and begin walking.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. We were just teasing.” He reaches his hands out, asking permission for a hug. I accept. My chin is on his shoulder as I mumble,

“I know. But I told you to stop.” He pats my back awkwardly like I’m a child.

“We’re guys, you know we can’t listen to reason.” Clint approaches, scratching the back of his head. I release Tony and roll my eyes.

“Yeah, I do.”

After a round of affectionate hair ruffles and half hugs, everyone begins talking of watching s movie. Not focusing much on the conversation, I snag one of the bars from the couch and rip open the packaging. I hear someone chuckle behind me. Spinning around, my eyes meet his.

“Eager, are we?” he says, only loud enough for me to hear over the sound of my friends yelling their movie ideas. I frown in defence.

“I haven’t eaten in hours!” I mumble around my chewing. He smiles at me, giving me an identical half hug to the ones I’ve received so many tonight. His metal hand reaches around my shoulders and he presses himself to me from the side. I lean my head on his chest. We stay there for a few moments, longer than usual. But it feels nice. He finally releases me, his hand snaking the trail on my body and back to his side, similar to the way he let go of my arm in the gym. The thought of it gives me shivers. I look up at him. “Thank you.” I say, a ghost of a smile on my face. His lips match mine, tilting up ever-so-slightly. He nods his head.

“These guys may be dumb, but they had good reason for what they did.” he shrugs. “They want you to be happy. That’s what we all want.” My face breaks into a sly grin.

“And you think I’d be happy with you?” I ask curiously. He shrugs again, a smirk placing his pink lips.

“I guess we’ll never know.” He waggled his eyebrows and begins to back up, his stormy eyes never leaving mine. Once he’s left the room of chattering people, with me clutching the bar in my palms, I sigh wistfully.

“Maybe we will.”

anonymous asked:

"I'll never unsee that" Nessian please!!! :)


@squaddreamcourt , you asked me to tag you when the fic was done, and here it is! I hope you’ll like it! @feyre-cursebreaker  I am so incredibly sorry for making you wait for so much darling, and I hope you’ll like the fic even if it’s not what you asked for. @ the anons, I am sorry for the wait lovelies, but I hope you will like this💗





There’s nothing worse than being dead, one would think.

But a ghost would say otherwise.

There’s this thing with ghosts- or rather, with a very strange and particular kind of ghosts, that actually wins the prize for the most unfortunate supernatural entity worldwide; they don’t know who they are, they don’t know where they come from or how they got in whatever place they end up in, but there’s a couple of things they know for sure: they don’t have a body, they can’t be seen or heard and it takes a bunch of creepy tricks to get a message through, and they are most likely dead.

Or getting there.

And of course, the most important thing:

the first person they see in this strange existence of theirs is their soulmate.

It all started with Nesta’s cigarette disappearing; she started smoking when she was fifteen, after her Father said how much he hated the smell of it, and never stopped since.

So it annoyed her to no end when her apartment seemed to be hell bent on hiding her own cigarettes every time she bought a new pack of them.

Nesta groaned in frustration while throwing the pillows of her sofa in the air and she couldn’t help but mutter, her voice booming in the empty room, “Why do you keep hiding my cigarettes?

She knows that she may sound mad and that it’s impossible for her own house to hide anything from her, but she just-just needs to be alone on her balcony with a cigarette between her fingers to calm down the roaring in her head.

She sighs, trying to readjust the pillows before she loses her patience completely but the sharp sound of glass breaking makes her turn, her heart thumping in her throat-

Nesta’s eyes widen and the breath stops in her lungs as she reads the words upon her wall, written in a deep shade of red with jagged letters:

Because it’s bad for your health.

He doesn’t know many things.

He doesn’t know who he is, what he is or how he ended here, but he knows that the most beautiful woman that he has ever seen is in front of him- and, well, he didn’t see many people but does it even matter when she’s there, just in front of him and she-

She ignores him completely.

And it drives him mad.

At first he thought she didn’t see him, which would make sense because he can’t even see himself, which is something that he really doesn’t want to think about, but he tried to talk, to scream and shout.

She didn’t even turn to him.

He looks at her- not that he can do much else, though he is not complaining- always on that couch reading book after book- and he knows some of those books, knows the titles, knows the words by heart even if he doesn’t know how that is possible- not even flinching and for some reason that he doesn’t know, it drives him completely out of his mind.

And then there’s the smoking.

She smokes so much she creates little grey clouds above her head in every room she goes and he can’t help but think of how much that must be unhealthy since she’s so tiny and he cares, even if he doesn’t know why, but it must be reasonable to care for the first person you ever saw in your entire life, if one can call this strange, invisible, unnerving thing life.

Bonus points for the fact that she is so beautiful she can make his breath stop in his lungs, but luckily for him, he doesn’t fucking breathe.

And then there are those times, when she goes out on the balcony to smoke before she goes to bed and her blue eyes reflect the color of the stars and he just- just wants to touch her, because she’s beautiful, but she looks so lost and he wants to take her hand, wants it with an intensity that frightens him but he can’t reach her, he can’t move, he can’t do anything but watch.

But, for being something that he can’t even explain, he is smart.

After glaring at her pack of cigarettes for three hours straight when she wasn’t home- and while asking himself relentlessly where the hell she was- he saw the damned thing move, and move, and move again until he finally managed to throw it out of the window.

He has never been more proud of himself.

And he did it again and again with various objects and in various occasions, like bringing her the hairbrush in the morning when she left it in her bedroom the night before or keeping her stash of books from falling over, or trying to give some sense to the utter mess that is her house and of course, his personal favorite: raising the temperature - that, well, that happened as an accident: one day he saw her having a discussion on the phone with someone and there was something, the look of complete delusion on her face but the complete lack of emotion in her voice, it made him want to scream at the person who was talking to her.

And suddenly the room was a oven- the first time was an accident, yes, but then it became a wonderful way to mess with her and it didn’t take him long to decide that sweaty and bothered was one of his favorite looks on her.

She never noticed, mostly because there wasn’t a logical explanation for the sudden change of degrees or to the never falling books, and maybe it was better like this.

He doesn’t know what happened or what was told to her during that phone call, but something did happen because she is smoking twice as much now and she’s so nervous her hands shake and what was a five minutes smoke on the balcony turned to her sitting in the cold for hours, staring at nothing.

And he honestly doesn’t care what he can or what he can’t do, he won’t stay here without trying to understand, without trying to help her.

So when she is trying to dismantle the sofa in her desperate chase after her damned cigarettes and wondering to herself why they always disappear, he takes a bottle of wine and smashes it against the wall, the soothing sound of glass against bricks, and tries to write with the dark liquid and even if the result is complete shit, the message is loud and clear.

Because it’s bad for your health.”

He sees her beautiful eyes go wide, but she doesn’t scream.

She falls back on the sofa, gripping the armrest like a lifeline and he- he moves as if he wants to catch her, which is stupid because he can’t, but he tries.

He looks at her and at the wall and wills the wine to move again “Are you alright?”, he asks, and thinks of how dumb he is only when it’s already done.

How can he ask if she’s alright when an invisible something is writing on the wall of her house?

He hopes at least that the wine was of shitty quality.

She shakes her head and he feels a pang of guilt; the room warms slowly, without him even noticing but she- she looks less scared but it lasts a second and then she does it, the thing he hates the most in this house that means the world to him: she straightens her back, her chin high and hides herself behind that icy façade, the one he watched her use in countless phone calls and in the brief encounters with other people, looking in front of herself like whatever is happening is nothing of importance.

The wine moves on the wall creating an angry splash of red.

“What are you and what are you doing in my house.” she says, her voice cold and steady like she’s talking about the weather with a stranger.

I-” he tries to write, but he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know a thing, he knows absolutely nothingand you? Who are you and what are you doing here?” he asks, sounding childish even to himself, and maybe he shouldn’t but he wants to know her name and the fact that he didn’t get to hear it in all this time bothers him endlessly.

She opens her mouth and closes it like the question surprised her and it breaks her mask for a second and if he could smile, he would.

“I am Nesta Archeron, and I happen to live here.” she says while her eyes scan the room.

Nesta Archeron, he repeats the name in his mind, savoring word for word and it sounds like music.

Nice to meet you, sweetheart.” he replies and there’s this adorable outraged expression on her face before she runs to the kitchen and comes back with a bag of salt, tearing it open and spraying it everywhere in the room, trying to do fuck knows what.

The pavement of the room becomes a white mess and she looks satisfied, as if she’s thinking she drove him away.

He starts to doodle in the salt.

She jumps in surprise “The salt- doesn’t it, doesn’t it banish things like you?” she asks and he wants to laugh, or chuckle, or make any kind of sound.

I think that you watch too much of that thing over there, sweetheart.” he writes, drawing an arrow toward her television.

She recoils and he notices how her hands shake “This- this isn’t possible. It isn’t happening. You’re not real.” she whispers, like she’s scared someone will hear the fear in her voice.

This is actually happening, sweetheart, and I happen to be very, very real.” he looks at the words, and then adds “More or less.

She looks lost in disbelief and he doodles a smile in the salt, hoping it would help, but judging by the expression on her face, it only makes it worst.

“Are-are you a ghost?” she asks, and the word resonates in him.

Ghost.

Maybe?” he writes, and that’s the best answer he can give her.

Nesta-ah, how he loves her name- inclines her head, making some strands of golden brown hair fall on her face and he aches, suddenly, with the need to tuck it behind her ear.

“I have a doubtful ghost in my house.” she says, like she is trying to make peace with the fact that, in fact, she does have a doubtful ghost in her house. Or maybe she’s just trying to find some logic in this situation.

It’s not like I can go somewhere else.” he writes, and he doesn’t know if he’s trying to make her understand all of this or if he’s desperately trying to understand it himself.

He tried, he really, really did, but he couldn’t walk out the door- not that he can walk, but, you know- and finding himself splattered against her bedroom window is not an experience he is dying to make again.

And Nesta manages to land her icy blue eyes right on him, and the fact that she’s looking right through him it’s not only words: he feels real, in the few seconds in which she looks in his direction before turning away, he feels real.

Please look at me again.

She climbs on the sofa, slowly, as if she’s scared he’s going to attack her, but then she stands up again, muttering “I am going to bed, I am going to bed and tomorrow I will realize this was all a dream.”

He watches her go, looking at every inch of her, and slowly writes

Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

The next day, he is still in Nesta’s house, waiting for her to wake up.

He knows the exact moment her feet touch the floor, and even if he thinks that it is kind of creepy, the moment she enters the living room with her hair a mess and sporting a striped violet pajama he does it again; he burns up, without being able to stop it, trying to keep the burning to himself without making the room seem like a chimney, but the vulnerability in her eyes the moment she wakes up is something that makes him feel, and he feels this, whatever it is, so strongly every part of him burns with it.

She looks around, trying to find some proof of what happened last night, but he cleaned everything up, because it seemed like an incredibly shitty thing to do, to leave her house a mess with salt and wine and broken glass.

“Are-are you still here?” she asks quietly, and he can’t help but love the look on her face, like she can’t believe she is seriously doing this.

She notices the notepad on the table the moment he takes the pen to write on it.

He finds out with a strange sort of satisfaction that he very much likes the color red.

Good morning, Nesta.” he writes and cringes when he notices that, no matter his attempt at being suave, his calligraphy is utter shit.

She walks to the table, her eyes narrowed and probably trying to decipher what he wrote.

He wants- he wants to shout, wants to scream that it’s just a good morning note, that his calligraphy is shit because he is probably dead and didn’t got the opportunity to check his writing skills and honestly he doesn’t know why he feels so flustered and he is stupid, fucking stupid because for some reason the fact that she maybe won’t be able to read his good morning note since he is the most idiotic ghost ever makes him feel- makes him feel wrong.

She passes a hand through her hair and whispers “Good morning, ghost.” and- this, this is strange, because he honestly doesn’t know how he ended up on the ceiling, but he is, he’s like floating, soaring or maybe flying and it takes him a few seconds to realize that he is simply happy- but then she exhales, her hands on her hips “I understand that you can’t go out of this house, but this is my house and you’ll do as I say. No more tricks like last night and no more wine on the walls, Casper.”

Casper?” he writes, because damn it, he doesn’t know what his name but he sure as hell isn’t named Casper.

“Yes. So you’ll act nicely from now own, because I can and will find a way to kick you out if it comes to it.” her voice is like steel against ice and even if her words should maybe get a different reaction out of him, he still can’t get down from the ceiling.

Got it.”, he writes and he should really, really practice writing because a five years old would totally do a better job at it than him.

She just nods and heads for the kitchen and he knows she wants a cigarette because she is grinding her index and middle finger together, but he also knows she isn’t going to ask him.

He watches as she prepares her breakfast, looks as she opens the cabinet of the kitchen, every movement quick and efficient but almost angry.

As she sits on the chair she looks for him, he can feel it, so he moves the cereal box toward her, as slowly as he can.

Her eyes go wide like she isn’t used to the simple kindness.

“Thank you.” she whispers, her eyes behind the cereal box, exactly where he is, and he aches.

She eats quickly, her morning going with the flow f the routine and when she moves to the bathroom and her bedroom, he stays planted in the kitchen, trying to remember that privacy is an actual thing that should be respected and stares at the wall, finding interesting patterns in the crack of the paint.

Luckily he hears her entering the living room before he sets everything on fire and it’s strange, how every time he looks at her, with her fresh clean clothes and her perfect face and the posture of a queen ready for battle he feels concrete; it lasts a bunch of seconds, a short span of her heartbeats, but it’s enough for him.

He takes the notepad again.

Where are you going?”  he asks, and the letters are incredibly tiny, because he doesn’t want to pry but he absolutely wants to know.

She looks at the sheet of paper, her eyebrow raised.

“I am going out.” she answers, and with that, she walks out of the house, not even looking back.

The edges of the notepad burn.

The thing with being a ghost, he thinks, is that it is a very, very boring business.

He doodles-a mockery of Nesta and her damned eyebrows and her damned hair and her damned perfect everything- he tries to read some of her books-she studies law but has a love for romantic books, which he keeps well in mind for future teasing material.

He readjusts her ever growing pile of biscuits, all of them in different flavors of dark chocolate, but he doesn’t go near her bedroom because he perfectly remembers how just seeing her underwear on the ground led to thoughts and thoughts led to him nearly setting the sofa on fire.

But he’s no good with waiting and ends passing most of his time near the window, waiting for her to come back like a complete fool, moving as much as he can until he ends plastered to the window, again.

When he hears the sharp sound of heels- click,click- he moves away from the window as fast as he can, as if she could see him and the big idiot that he is.

She’s holding a brown grocery bag and the usual whirlwind of questions barrels through him

Is it heavy?

What did you buy?

Is that soy milk?

What do you like?

Are those instant noodles again Nesta Archeron I swear to god-

She places the bag on the kitchen table with a huff, strands of hair falling on her face as she stretches a bit, her face open and vulnerable and he doesn’t know if she’s being so human because she forgot he is there or because she doesn’t care, and he honestly doesn’t know what hurts the most.

And it’s a funny thing, being hurt when you’re dead.

Just his luck.

But she turns, her eyes and their ability to land right over him.

Hello”, he writes.

She smiles.

He flies.

And from his advantaged view from the ceiling he looks at her as she prepares her tea, slamming cupboards as if the last moments never happened, angry with the world again.

She takes a bright pink bag, not the black tea person he suspected, Nesta, but a fruity tea lover.

He snorts, and is for once happy that he makes no sounds, just a quite rattling only in his head.

What starts the discussion is the incredible amount of sugar she drops in her tea.

What are you doing?” he asks after the third sugar-cube drowns in the dark pink liquid.

“Sweetening my tea.” she says, her pale hand moving the teaspoon slowly and he’s mesmerized by the action before he replies “What you are doing is wetting sugar with some tea.”

She reads his answer but doesn’t reply right away, as if she’s looking for the perfect answer and when she does, her smile lights up with cruel delight “And how would you know?”, she asks, doesn’t need to add another word for the point to come across and he is silent, fuming with rage only he can feel and that he can’t express and trying to keep it inside him, to not let her see how deep her words went but he sees a bead of sweat above her upper lip and even as the temperature goes higher, she smirks.

He tries to write something and the pen melts into the invisible grasp, and Nesta drinks her tea, her knees drawn to her chest.

He could tell her, tell her that all the sugar in the world won’t make her any sweet but he sees as she searches into the pocket of her jeans for her cigarettes, so he writes “I might not know, but that’s not really my choice.” he sees as she brings a cigarette to her lips, soft and red and so- “Do you do something that isn’t smoking, sweetheart?

She doesn’t stop, just looks right through him as she lights her cigarette but he can see it, see it in her eyes how annoyed she is.

“I don’t see why I should explain myself to you, since you don’t even exist.” she answers, taking a long drag of smoke, like time doesn’t matter to her as long as she can hide behind the smoke of the cigarette.

He can only think of how her mouth would taste.

I do exist, as you well know. I am just not visible.”

“What do you remember? Don’t you know your name? Something?” she asks, her innocent curiosity so at odds with the smirk of just a few heartbeats ago.

I remember you.” he writes “This house. It’s like I’ve always been here.”

Her eyebrows knit together and just when her mouth opens to say something else, her phone rings.

“Elain? Oh, yes. Oh,no, I-” she looks at him, for a moment and there’ so much in her eyes he feels full “Come here,” she says, “with Feyre. Yes. It’s been too long.”

Nesta looks nostalgic, almost happy, like she’s seeing something, another opportunity, a new beginning that she always wanted.

He imagines fingers-his fingers-on her cheek, tries to imagine Nesta leaning into the touch, vulnerable and open and trusting.

Are we having guests?” he writes. Nesta didn’t let go of her phone and is still looking at the screen.

“My sisters.” she says, but the tone of her voice is full of doubt, like the relationship with her sister is flawed, or crooked and she already thinks it beyond repairing.

“I need to call a restaurant, to get the orders in-”

You are not getting take-out, Nesta Archeron.” he writes.

There’s something that disturbs him about the idea of getting food prepared by someone else for your own family, for someone you love.

“And what do you suggest that we do, then? I can’t cook.” she asks, her phone on the table.

He tries to form a reply while his nonexisting body tries to get over the fact that she said we.

We cook, that’s what we do.”

She raises her eyebrow, disbelief showing plain on her face.

Show me your worst, Archeron.”

It turns out that Nesta Archeron really, truly can’t cook to save her life.

But he can.

How much salt are you throwing over there, sweetheart?” he writes for the third time and Nesta looks at him like she is going to kick his ass even if she can’t see it.

They prepared the table, did the dishes and tried to create a soothing atmosphere with Nesta’s incessant fidgeting.

She takes the salad to the table, her eyes scanning everything as if she’ll find some imperfection that she could use as an excuse to postpone the whole thing.

“I should have never said that. I should have kept my mouth shut.” she murmurs, but the doorbell rings, and she goes quickly to the door and he can hear her counting her breaths.

1, 2, 3

When her sisters arrive there are no big hugs, not shouting and loud kisses, just a sort of understanding of how things are, and things are not very good, in his opinion.

One of the sisters, Elain, brought flowers, and Nesta rushes to the kitchen for a vase, which he lets her find ready near the sink alongside a note that says “You are so lucky to have me.”

She doesn’t sneer at the note, just searches for him before getting out of the room.

The dinner is quiet, aside from the how are you and the what you have been doing and while Elain looks over the moon with joy he can’t seem to understand the tension between Nesta and Feyre, but he sees as the younger reaches out between the passing of the salad which dressing Nesta fucked up more times than he can count, doubt on her features, gripping her older sister wrist like a death grip or a call full of hope.

She says something about starting over which he doesn’t listen as carefully as he probably should, which he feels a bit ashamed of, but he is too busy looking at Nesta, at the crease between her brows, at the way she looks at her sisters fingers around her arm and he knows, he knows exactly what hides behind her eyes, the battle within her heart and pride, the need to hide and sneer and belittle as an armor, second nature, or to let something new and tender grow.

“Fine.” it’s all that she says and he tries to remind himself that this has nothing to do with him and he has no reason to be happy or to be floating toward the ceiling like the most idiotic ghost-balloon ever, but he is, he’s happy for her, for the way the tension quietly shifts to content, for the quiet laughs and for the little clinking of glasses to the new beginnings, courtesy of Elain.

When they leave he can’t help but notice how the house feels warmer-and for once for a reason that isn’t his inability to control himself- and can’t help but love the soft pink on Nesta’s cheeks and how happy she looks in this four walls of theirs.

He can see that she’s tired, so he turns off the lights, makes the house just a bit warmer and when Nesta is already in her bed he hears it.

“Thank you.”

And in the end, he thinks that the view from the ceiling is not so bad.

The day after he discovers that when he laughs, he rolls around, which makes him wonder if he will ever do something even remotely graceful, but when Nesta comes out of the bedroom in a red pyjama full of pink polka dots and little panda bears and a green mask on her face, that’s when he loses it.

He starts to roll around, like he’s a little ball, like he’s trying to roll the head he doesn’t have back toward the ceiling, creating a never ending motion.

I’ll never unsee that.” he writes, but he’s writing is just a mess of overlapping letters that look like a roller coaster, like he’s having too much fun to see where his pen lands.

“There’s nothing to laugh about.” she says, going straight to the kitchen for breakfast, happier than he ever saw her this early in the morning.

You are always a sight to behold, sweetheart.” he writes and she smiles while taking down her biscuits and it all speaks of routine, of being used to each other in the best way possible, of companionship, of being equals of some sort and he can’t help but think that if this is his life, he is grateful for it.


He also discovers he doesn’t like the cold.

It latches at him, goes through him, leaves him restless to right a past that never was.

But within all the things he doesn’t like there’s one he truly hates, and that thing is seeing Nesta cry.

She’s out on the balcony, an unlit cigarette between her fingers, the rain wetting the paper, making the tobacco fall, her mascara pooling under her eyes.

She doesn’t talk and makes no sound, her tears mix with the rain and he doesn’t know what he can do so he gets closer, rustling the leaves of long dead plants to let her know he’s there.

“My mother died ten years ago. My mother died.” she says, like she wants it to sink in, to let it be real because she still can’t believe it.

“And he didn’t care. My father didn’t care and I want to go- I want to go to the cemetery to see if he brought her flowers, a note, something. Did he even love her?” she asks, and she’s looking at him and he aches, wants to comfort her, so he just tries to touch her and by the look she gives him she feels it, feels him and as happy as he is he forces himself to stay on the ground, with her.

“He let her die,” she whispers, her lower lip trembling “he let her die and he didn’t care, didn’t care to call the doctors even when I begged him to, didn’t care for her, didn’t care for me, for my sisters, he hid behind Feyre like a spineless, useless, heartless coward and-”

She hides her face behind her hand, little sobs escaping her lips.

Don’t hide from me, he wants to say, but he tries to soothe her, to make her feel calm and loved and warm and he hates that for all the things he can do he can’t dry her tears or stop the rain from falling.

“It wasn’t right,” she says, finally “it isn’t right.”

He nudges to her a bit, drawing soothing circles in the palm of her hand and thinks of things to write along the lines of if I could make you tea, I would.

And he is surprised beyond belief to hear her snort and answer “You would never get the sugar right.”

He sees Feyre and Elain more frequently since that night.

Feyre brings some paintings, saying that the apartment lacks colors and when Nesta asks her to paint something red, his emotions and heart and everything he is goes a bit all over the place.

He still swears that the book that went into flames is in no way his fault.

Nesta buys a book of names, all blue and pink, designed to help young parents chose the name of their children, and reads it to him to help him remember his name.

Nothing came out of it, other than a strange call to names that start with c, a nostalgic wave for a certain Reece and a strange affinity for Jewish mystics.

In the end, he asks her to read it two times, but it’s all because he loves the sound of her voice; it’s low, but not cold or empty, the kind of voice that sings to lure sailors off their ships, but loving enough to be as sweet as spring.

When summer comes, he feels like he’s been in her house for a lifetime.

They pass evenings on the balcony, Nesta’s skin covered under layers and layers of sunscreen and he can’t forget the smile on her face when she splashed him with ice cold water, like a child, laughing like crystal bells.

Well, he did take his revenge with switching sugar with salt, and the face she made while drinking her tea after was priceless, and this- this are all the moments he will never be able to forget.

Until that night.

They are on the couch, the same couch she tried to climb in fear of him all those months ago, watching one of her tv series, but neither of them is giving the show much attention.

Him, on his behalf, is too busy looking at the freckles on her face, gently visible thanks to the summer sun, and she is looking at him.

Or rather, at the space he would occupy if had a solid body.

She looks away, but her eyes land on him every now and then and he feels a strange sort of anticipation, like waiting for fireworks to light up the night sky.

That’s when she moves, faster than a blink and stops just an inch away from where he is and he knows, he knows-

He knows that Nesta wants to touch him, to see if he’s really there, if he’s real and he wants to beg her, he would kneel before her, just to feel her skin on him, just once, but when she tries, her fingers moving toward him, she goes right through him and he can’t feel her, can’t feel her fingers or her skin or her touch and he can’t, he can’t, he can’t- can’t look at the sadness on her face, can’t deal and live with the fact that they will never touch, that he will never tuck her hair behind her ear, will never touch her, will never-

But he will, he will see her smile and tuck her hair behind her ear and kiss her until they are drunk on one another, he will hold her because she is the reason he wants to be alive and real and concrete,  he just needs to-

He just needs to wake up.

                                                 —

It’s been three months without her ghost.

She doesn’t smoke anymore.

Nesta still doesn’t know what happened: a moment the ghost was there, on the couch with her, its warmth all around her and then it was gone and her house has never been so cold.

When she took her degree, she wanted to rush home, to tell to her ghost that she made it and when she came back home she realized that no amount of blankets in the middle of August would ever replicate that warmth.

Nesta didn’t think that she could miss so much someone who was never really there in the first place.

She sits on the balcony, the place full of memories of her ghost like the rest of the house when she hears a knock on the door.

She debates on answering, but the knocking becomes more insistent and she gets up, opening the door with an annoyed look on her face, but then-

There’s a man in front of her, long black hair flowing around his incredibly handsome face, hazel eyes that look right through her and trembling hands.

“Do you still like all that sugar in your tea, sweetheart?”

Undeniable Heat Chapter 41: Meeting the Gang

Jensen Ackles x Reader

1350 Words

Story Summary: You’ve just gotten a job as one of the makeup artists on the set of Supernatural. Nervous on the first day, you become completely awkward, winning the affection of the divorced Jensen Ackles. You try to fight your desire for him, but he thwarts you at every turn. Will you be able you separate work and play, or will you let Jensen win?

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

As the Taxi took you to your hotel, you watch out the window, trying to take in as many sights as possible. This convention was taking place in Chicago, and you had never been there before. Watching as people hustled pass on the sidewalks, and as you passed tall buildings, you wished that you and Jensen could just be tourists for the day. Forget about what happened in Vancouver, and not worry about the convention that would be going on. It was just a dream, and you didn’t want to take him away from his fans.

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Forever Enough

Summary: [Pre-serum] Steve Rogers is determined to get into the Army, but you and Bucky keep trying to persuade him that it’s not a good idea.

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes

Warnings: fluff, cute af!Steve, angst, arguing, character deaths [?]

A/N: @redlipstickandplaid  kinda requested this, I say kinda because she asked for some Fluffy Pre-Serum Steve where Buck and the reader try a deter Rogers from trying to join the army- and this, well, my brain had different ideas. Annie, don’t hate me too much, lmao <3



“You need to stop this, Steve,” you let out a sigh as you ran a hand through you hair, exasperated at your friends actions.

He shook his head, taking a seat on the couch. “I can’t. I have to do this,” he spoke with pure determination, that determination he always had every time he tried to enlist and still got denied on medical grounds. He wasn’t one to give up, that’s for sure.

There was a short silence before the door opened, revealing Bucky in his full army uniform. It was fair to say, he looked pretty angry.

“What were you thinking!” he threw his hat unceremoniously onto the spare chair in his frustration. Bucky took a deep breath, running a hand across his face, “you can’t keep doing this, man. Going as different names each time won’t change your medical records.”

“I just want to do something to help, alright?” Steve retorted, getting to his feet, a look of dismay across his face. “Everyone else is out there fighting and I’m just here- doing nothing to save anyone.”

It pained you to see him beat himself up over things that were beyond his control. “Steve, listen to me,” you walked over to him, your hand gently taking hold of his own, “you can help here, and you do help here. You help me just by being here, by being my friend in this crazy, horrible time.”

Those bright blue eyes looked up at you with slight hesitation before Steve spoke, “but I’m not enough, am I? I never will be,” he spoke in a broken tone before pulling away from your touch and making his way out of the house.

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It’s Nice To Finally Meet You

Title: It’s Nice To Finally Meet You

Pairing: Josh Dun x Reader

Word Count: 2,429

Warning: Mention of abuse in a previous relationship

Request: ‘Can do try to do an imagine where you’re at a show, you’re friends with josh’s mom, but you never had the interests of meeting her famous drummer of a son. The reader comes up to Ohio to see his mom and to go to a top show. She finally talks the reader into meeting josh and things just click and they hit it off’

A/N: Thank you @tonightillneedutostay​ for the request, I hope you like it, I’m sorry it took so long to upload! Also, I realised there isn’t much of Josh in this.. I’m sorry my dudes

Masterlist / Send Me Requests 

Originally posted by nahcose

For the past two years, you’ve been working as a fully trained hair stylist and beauty therapist.

Since graduating from beauty school almost two years ago, you’ve been working in a well known salon in your local area of Columbus, Ohio. You were luck enough to get the job soon after graduating. You slowly but surely grew a base of loyal regulars who would only book appointments for you. One of these regulars just so happen to be the mom of a famous drummer in the band Twenty one Pilots.

Ever since your first appointment with Laura, she’s been telling you about her famous drummer son, Joshua and his best friend, Tyler, and that their band was very well know, especially in the local area, and in the recent year or so, they had started taking over the world, finally expanding and getting the recognition they deserve after years of hard work.

You strike up a surprising friendship, considering the age gap, with Laura. Over the first few months of appointments, she’d tell you all about her life, like her husband and children. She loved all of her children equally, but Joshua was the one she spoke most about the most.

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We Don't Need No Education

Request: Hey!❤ I was wondering if you could do a story, were the reader is really stressed because of school and homework, but then the brothers cheer her up (you decide the relationship between the reader and the brothers)? I’m kind of feeling like that at the moment, so it would make my day a whole lot better to read that💕 You are a huge inspiration, Taria!

Thank you Nonnie <3! I love you and you compliment.

Forever tag list: @Freaksforthewin , @thewinhunter, @cambriacaneatnoodles, @brokennoone , @youtubehelpsmesurvive , @chrisevansthedoritobastard , @winchesters-favorite-girl , @we-know-a-little-about-a-lot @godh8salyssa @dean-baby-Winchester @i-am-an-outcast , @animexchocolate

Want to be added to one of my tag lists? Just ask!


“Nope.” You slammed your textbook shut in an irritated manner.

“I’m done. I’m dropping out.” Plopping your body down onto your bed you accidentally kicked all your school work off and onto the floor.

“Not like I’m gonna need that anyways.” Both of your arms folded together and covered your eyes.

School was beyond stressful. Middle school? Pain in your ass but you could handle it. High school? Totally different ball park. Just when you think you’re doing good, a damn wrecking ball would come and knock you back to square one.

Dean was just returning with your requested pie. Also known as pizza. And his own personal choice of pie. Also known as his addiction. When you didn’t come out to him calling your name, him and Sam must’ve assumed the worst because they came in, guns drawn.

“Whoa, what the hell?” Their entrance caught you off guard. Then again, anybody entering with guns pointed in your direction may cause a bit of a surprise.

“Language.” Sam always had to be the “mom” brother and keep you in check.

“Yeah, sorry but what did you guys expect? A group of monsters to be in here?” You were sitting up now, your legs hanging off of your once neat bed.

Dean exchanged a certain look to Sam.

“Ew! Why would I bring a boy over here?” They both had a bit of an embarrassed look. You knew them so well.

“And why would you guys come in here shooting if I did?” After thinking about it for a minute, you took it back. “Don’t answer that. But if you’re going to kill something. Please- shoot my textbook.” Pointing under the bed you stood up and stepped back as if saying “there’s the bad guy”.

“Wait. You’re telling me you’re all in a bunch because of homework?” Why did Dean seemed so surprised? It was homework. It was naturally stressful.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forget that you never did yours and instead were too concerned with-” the look he shot you got you to change the last part of your response. “Other things…”

“Do you want some help?” There goes Sam again, with his big brother hero hair on.

“Burning the books? I mean, if you want to pitch in.” “

No, we’re not burning the books. Take a break. It’ll help.” The Moose boy was leaning against the wall.

“Sure, I’ll take a break. How does for the rest of my life sound?” You repositioned yourself to sit down on the bed, getting ready for this big talk.

“I’m serious, Y/n.” When wasn’t Sam serious about something like your education?

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure she’s serious too.” Dean had finally chimed in. You held your hand out agreeing with him.

“Y/n-”

“Yeah yeah I know Dean. ‘Do your work. Eat some food. Get some sleep.’” You mimicked the way he would say it, trying your best to sound manly and make your voice go deep.

“Why don’t you come out and eat your gross pizza I got for you?” He was only calling it gross because it was the all veggie meatless kind.

“And then you can-”

“Come back and do work. Yeah, I know Sam.”

anonymous asked:

If you haven't seen this already: AHBL8 Jensen singing + Jared PLAYING GUITAR!! Finally!! (And here I'm thinking of a wonderful comic by Kamidiox from awhile back about this - you know which one I mean?) anyway YouTube user Kitsune has a really good video. And Jensen was so supportive, u can see him focusing on Jared half the time!! <3 <3 <3 (Italian Anon)

Adding to what I wrote before. Just found more good vids of Jared playing guitar on storify: he’s so shy and insecure still (aww!) Reminds me of Jensen when he first sang and played at a con- and as I said before, Jensen was so caring, splitting his attention between taking care and checking on him and the public :D - Italian Anon  (u can put the 2 asks together if you want)


Hello, dear Italian Anon!

I’ve been gone the entire weekend and now I’m desperately trying to catch up with all that went on at AHBL. Seems as though plenty of things happened during these panels and I’m so bummed the organizer has forbid taking videos and pictures.

Wow! Here’s an amazing, good-quality video of the song by the marvelous out-in-the-open. I’m pretty stunned by the performance, not going to lie! I’m amazed that Jared finally dared to play the guitar in front of an audience. The man has nothing to be ashamed of, his playing was beautiful!

Jensen leans in during the first verse and seems to sing some of the lines directly to Jared. See how they’re looking at each other so often - it’s clear that Jared is looking for support and Jensen is providing it. My heart! Jensen looks so proud of his boy.

It’s happening! I bet it took years of convincing Jared that he’s good enough to perform and now he’s actually doing it. I’m fairly sure it feels like such an accomplishment to them both. I’m insanely proud of them, too!

I couldn’t help but notice that Jensen didn’t want to sing the second verse. My headcanon? He probably didn’t want to sing a bunch of words that don’t speak to him - “And I’m a bad boy, ‘cause I don’t even miss her. I’m a bad boy for breakin’ her heart.” Want to bet their home version goes something like “I’m a bad boy, but I miss him like crazy.”? Hahah, sorry, I can’t help myself.

They gave the impression that this performance was a surprise, but I’m not sure that’s true. Jensen recognized the song awfully fast from a few strums of the guitar and I think he must’ve psyched Jared before the panel quite a bit for him to go through with it at last. It doesn’t really matter, though. I’m just glad it finally happened!

I could watch this video every day. I think I probably will. Is this the lovely comic by the wonderful @kamidiox you mean? I can well imagine them holding each other like that before the panel started. Please excuse me, my head is all over the place because of this beautiful performance! I hope you have a very lovely week ahead of you, sweet anon! Thank you for messaging me about this, this is exactly kind of stuff I love talking about.

Different Kind of Love

They both love each other, but it was not as expected.

Word Count: 1470
Genre: Angst
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Description: This story is all about a bitter taste of reality. I got very excited seeing people actually read my stories and also gave me feedbacks. Thank you so much. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. :)


You could feel his charisma the moment you stepped into the room. Even with his back facing you, you could feel his strong aura. He looked so intense, sitting on his chair, facing the big monitor and the recording equipment as he was focusing on finishing his new song.

Keep reading

He obfuscates (Philip x Reader)

Request:Can you do a Philip x reader (burrs daughter)? Or another Jeffersons daughter?

TW: Swearing

Masterlist

“Yes, father, I’m fine,” you say into the phone.

“I’m just worried about you, (Y/N),” he responds.

You hold the phone between your head and shoulder as you start to unpack one of your boxes. “Relax, dad. I’m fine. Really.”

“I’m just scared that you’re out there now. I can’t protect you anymore.”

You sigh. “I’m not far from home. I’ll come home if I need anything.”

“Alright. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

You hang up the phone and set it on the counter. “Well,” you ask turning to your boyfriend, “are you just going to stand there or help me?”

He laughs and crosses his arms. “You seem to be doing just fine on your own.”

You roll your eyes. “Fuck you.”

“Well, if you say so-”

You hold up a finger. “Uh-uh. Not until these boxes are unpacked.”

He raises his eyebrows. “So, is that a yes?”

“Philip,” you warn.

He mutters a quick apology before helping you unpack.

~~~

Almost four months after moving out, your boyfriend moved in. You didn’t mind, though. You were both old enough to make your own decisions, and you have been dating for about two years. Your dad never knew about your relationship. Neither did Philip’s parents.You fathers were self-proclaimed enemies. Everyone knew that. The two of you figured that it would be best if you kept your relationship a secret. Now that you were living together and even considering marriage, you knew that you had to tell them, but the more you thought about it, the worse the idea seemed. Not only were they going to be mad that you were dating, but you had been dating for years without telling them.

You sit on the couch with your legs swung over one side while your head rests on Philip’s chest as you both shovel Chinese food in your mouth and watch a shitty, direct-to-DVD movie.

“Oh, I needed to tell you: my parents want to meet you,” he suddenly says.

You sit up. “What?!”

“I’m sorry. My dad was asking when he could meet you, and I said that you were really busy, and he said that he would be willing to take the time off, which is amazing because every time my mom tries, she doesn’t even get him to open the door.”

You take a deep breath. “When?”

“Next week?”

You lay back down on him. “Alright.”

He kisses your head. “Thank you. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

~~~

You stand outside Philip’s childhood home. “Philip, I’m nervous.”

He fumbles in his pocket for a key. “Relax, (Y/N). My mom will love you.”

“And your dad?”

He unlocks and opens the door. “Mom, Pops!”

“You never-” you start, but Mrs. Hamilton rushes over to hug her son. “Philip! It’s great to see you again! How have you been? How’s college?”

He chuckles. “I’m fine, ma. Everything is fine. This is my girlfriend, (Y/N).” You take note of how he didn’t mention your last name.

She smiles and engulfs you in the same bone-crushing hug.

You smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hamilton.”

“Please, call me Eliza. Mrs. Hamilton makes me feel so old.” She starts to lead you to the living room where Secretary Hamilton is furiously typing at a laptop, only taking a break when he hears his son enter the room. “Philip!” He exclaims before turning his attention to you. He pauses when he sees you. “Ms. Burr,” he greets through clenched teeth. “Philip, can I speak to you for a minute?”

You give Philip a pleading look and squeeze his hand. “Yeah, Pop.”

You watch as the two men walk into Secretary Hamilton’s office. They shut the door. You try not to cry because of the muffled yelling. “(Y/N), dear, would you mind helping me in the kitchen?” Eliza asks.

You have never been more grateful to cook.

~~~

You sit between Philip and his eldest sister, while Secretary Hamilton sits at the head of the table. They stare daggers at each other, while Eliza, bless her heart, tries to make civil conversation with you. “What are you majoring in?”

“Um, I’m still undecided actually. I’ve been looking into the science field,” you answer.

Secretary Hamilton scoffs, but you ignore him.

“(Y/N/N)’s actually been taking a bunch of classes. Once she chooses a major, she can graduate,” Philip interjects.

His father laughs. “Typical Burr, can’t decide on anything.”

“I’m sorry, Secretary Hamilton, but I haven’t decided on a major because this is what is going to dictate the rest of my life. I don’t have the money, time, or energy to go into a field that I don’t like.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m sure your father has the money.”

“I am capable of providing for myself. I don’t rely on my father for everything.”

“Until someone comes along and says they will.”

“Alexander,” Eliza scolds, “you’re being childish.”

He leans back in his chair. “Why, I’m just trying to get to know our guest better. She’s just like her father, though.”

You laugh and lean closer to him. “I am my own person.”

“Without believes.”

You stand up. “I cannot believe you would say something like that! I have never agreed with my father’s so-called ‘beliefs’. I am capable of forming my own thoughts.”

“(Y/N), please,” Philip pleads.

You and Alexander both ignore him. Secretary Hamilton stands up and bangs his fist on the table. “Oh really? I’m sure you’ve adopted Jefferson’s system of thought. ‘If it’s different from me, then it must die.’?”

“No, I believe that every person, no matter what should be treated as a person, something I think you also believe.”

You can tell he’s taken a bit off guard, but that doesn’t stop him. In the midst of the argument, you don’t notice Eliza ushering the children out of the room with Philip. You only notice that you’re alone when Secretary Hamilton stops yelling.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “You’re nothing like him.”

“You’re just now realizing this?”

“Welcome to the family. I’m sorry we got off to a rocky start.”

You nod and smile. “Thank you.”

~~~

Your boyfriend laughs, while you tell him what happened. “I knew they would like you.”

“Now you just have to meet my dad,” you joke, causing his face to go pale.

What If? (Pt.2)

Title: What If? (Pt.2)
Summary: You indulge yourself in a harmless passion, following a train of thought, but when Mikey catches a glimpse it may not be so harmless after all.
Author: Velcr0Kitty
Characters: Mikey x Reader
Word Count: 1488
Warnings: Angst, fluff, body image… issues? I guess?
Author’s Notes: WELCOME BACK MOTHERFUCKERS I AM CAFFEINATED :) I was gonna post this as one big fic (I had hit like 3000 words) but I decided to split this up. It keeps growing :D (I took liberty and tagged a bunch of you people)

It was three agonizing days until you saw Mikey again. According to Raph he spent most of his time in the training room, relentlessly pushing himself to several limits. When one of the others could force him out for a little while he spent all of his time in his and Raph’s room “mopin’ over that weird book.”

Splinter had approached the others expressing his concerns and, until Leo mentioned your breakdown, he had nothing.

“My child?” Splinter slowly entered your room where you were laying, sketching away. You jump and try to hide your sketchbook, throwing it behind you. He quirks an eyebrow and extends his hand, motioning for you to hand him whatever it was. It was the first time since the fight you’d even touched a pencil and it seemed that all you could draw was Mikey. So, like a little kid in trouble, you hand it over. As recognition and something akin to pride swarm his features you shrink further into yourself expecting to be reprimanded. Instead he gives you a small smile and hands it back.

“Well done. That’s a very fine piece of art.” He pauses, giving you time to start explaining on your own. You sit with your eyes closed, hoping he’ll just go away. He simply stares at you, patiently, and sits. After a few tense, silent moments, you break.

“I’msosorrySplinter, I didn’t mean any harm! I draw. I was gonna go to art school then my- and then- and I just drew Mikey, Ididn’tmeantohurthim I’m sorry!” You blurt in one breath and start crying, again. Splinter had grabbed you mid-sentence and just held you. You sobbed and cried and rambled until you could breathe again. The whole time the rat who had become a father to you patted your back and waited for you to calm down.

When you had quieted and stopped shaking Splinter lied your head on his lap, combed through your hair and slowly spoke.

“Child, you must tell me what has happened. I was worried about Michelangelo, but now I fear for you too. You must explain, if you can,” and so you did. You explained everything. Your past, how bad off you were when they found you, your crush on Mikey, that night, your idea, the drawing, all leading up to three days ago. You had to stop a few times at the more painful moments and had cried silently the whole time. Once you had finished Splinter sat silently. He drank in your words, rolling them around in his head and slowly formed a response. He does this often when spoken to so you give him time and just enjoy the comfort he provides.

“Given the circumstance, you should go to him.” As he speaks, you slowly sit up and match his gaze. “This isn’t something that can be fixed outwardly, but from the inside I believe it can heal.”

“Really?”

———————————

Mikey loved the feel of adrenaline coursing through him after training. It put a pep in his step until it wore off and his muscles started to ache. He figured, while he was still hype, that he’d go bug his favorite sweetheart. As he wandered towards your room he enjoyed the serenity of the lair. He could hear his brothers loudly speaking then quietly disbanding, each wandering off to their separate corners. He hears Raph’s music turn up, he hears the familiar beep of Donnie’s lab door, he hears the shower, probably Leo. His hands drift to his pockets and his mind drifts to his girl - uh, well not his girl but… god, he wanted her to be. He always knew there was something about Y/N but… lately? He couldn’t help but think of you.

He was surprised to see that you weren’t in your room, so he took the time to, well, indulge himself. He looked around your room at just how you it was. The furniture, the colors, lighting, nerd stuff littering every surface, fuck even the smell. The 19 year old’s chest tightened as he took in that smell and enjoyed the little energetic rush that spiraled from his chest, down his arms and settling low. His stomach turned over and he closed his eyes, starting to daydream. Out of a dreamy fog an image of burying his face into your hair as he held you tightly swarms him. He could almost feel your small arms trying to wrap around him and failing, but still tightening nonetheless, as well as you nuzzling into his neck. The ghostly press of a kiss or two sends another shot through his body and this one snaps him out of his dizzying day dream.

He jumps and sobers up, remembering you could walk in at anytime, and continues snooping. With his arms latched behind his back he wanders around the room. His eyes fall to something on your bed. It was a some loose papers, a couple pencils, and, near the headboard, a few peculiar books. Confusion seizes him while curiosity drives him to take a peek. He glances at the door frame, pausing to consider the morality in this situation. The little devil on his shoulder has been screeching since he saw the papers and the little angel has been rambling more than Donnie. Mikey shakes his head and turns back to the papers picking up a pile of about four. His brows furrow. His jaw drops.

The paper between his fingers showed a drawing of him and his brothers side by side. Perfectly. A low whistle escapes him. Angelcakes did this?

“It’s like a photo,” he whispers breathlessly. A gargantuan smile splits his face as he excitedly flips page after page. His brothers, Splinter meditating, him laying around, Raph and Donnie sparring. He ran out of his pile and practically dove for the others. Some of the drawings were higher quality, some merely sketches. It didn’t matter, he devoured them all with fervor. Pride swelled in him and bubbles over into small bouts of giggles. He barks a sharp laugh and covers his mouth when he finds a damn near perfect capture of Raph’s bitch-face. He grabs one of the actual sketchbooks and leans against the steel beam that comes down in the middle of your room, flipping it open.

———————————

You quietly approach the increasingly scarey curtain of beads separating you and Mikey. Splinters last words before you left the room ring in your ears.

“Of course, young one. Anything can be healed if you tend to it correctly. At the very least, you can mend the damage and lessen the blow.” You lightly chant this to yourself as you approach the archway to the shared room. Mend the damage, lessen the blow. Mend the damage… You’re met with a very grumpy Raph within the first few steps. He’s laying on the top bunk, your entrance catches his attention. The red tails of his mask flail a little as he looks at you, then snaps to Mikey for a moment (who is moping quietly in the corner, sitting on his drum kit’s stool leaning against the wall) and back again. He mouths ‘You dealing with this?’. You gave a curt, nervous nod.

“Oh, thaNK FUCK,” he groans, a little too loudly. Mikey swerves around, startled by the sudden outburst, locks eyes with you and confusion turns into a scowl. Raph slides off his bunk and moves past you, giving you two hearty good-luck-shoulder-pats on his way out. You reach out towards Raph a little as he wanders away silently yelling at him to not leave you alone. You begin to slightly tremble for the second time that day. Turning back, you find Mikey has turned around once more.

Alright. Fine. I guess it’s all on me.

———————————

Mikey had made it through 2 of your old sketchbooks before he got to a newer one (he figured they were old cause he hasn’t worn that in at least a year) and picked up on a, um, theme so-to-speak. This book was near full, the only one on the bed that was closed, and was chock full of drawings of him. Of course his family was in there but it was totally rare if he wasn’t also in the drawing. To be honest, he was too stunned that none of them even knew about this amazing talent of yours to freak out about how much of him there was.

So far his favorite was one of him casually standing, facing away from the viewer, arms crossed, relatively serious. His first thought was, of course, ‘wow,’ but then it was ‘is my ass really that nice?’ It was then he saw a cute little cartoon you in the corner with sunglasses on staring at his ass, biting her lip and making a really funny face. That one he promised himself he was gonna make a copy of whether you knew about it or not.

(I’M SO SORRY, PT.3 SOON)

Tags: @another-tmnt-writer @girl-next-door-writes @llturner7 @sarazzprime @jam-jar2  @i-know-i-am-weird-thank-you

Curiosity Kills Part 2 // Jughead Jones

GURL U SLAYIN THAT JUGHEAD FIC, CURIOSITY KILLS im waiting for the next part


Omg, please write part 2 for that Jug imagine


Oh please please. Part 2 of Curiosity Kills??


Well, here you go! I actually had fun writing this! I hope that I’ve done the ending justice! Enjoy! Also, don’t fret to ask me to tag you in imagines either! I’m always free to!


***



‘So, wait – you actually had feelings for Y/N? I knew it!’

Jughead was almost regretting telling Archie about Y/N and the fact that Ronnie was willing to help look for the love of his life. He always got too overly excited about Jughead liking girls, but, Archie only ever wanted to see his best friend happy and if this was the way to do it, he was willing to help.

With Betty and Ronnie being A-list super sleuths, they were willing to go to any extent to find out about Y/N’s whereabouts, their first stop, her old house.

The four friends stood out the front, looking at the homey, white little cottage house. It had vines covering the outside walls of it, giving off a very natured theme.

‘Well, the only way to find somewhere to really start to to ask the new owners.’ Betty explained.

‘Wait – how is asking them going to help?’ Archie asked, a confused frown placed on his face.

‘Archikins, if we can find out the sale agent who helped them get this house, we can then take it a step further.’ Ronnie answered. Ronnie took a quick glance at Jughead, who looked like her was over thinking everything. ‘How you holding up, Jughead?’

Jughead studied his friend’s old house, feeling many memories here with stay with her for weeks on end after everything that was happening with his own family and the times they’d shared together. ‘Let’s get some answers.’

The four of them walked up to the front door, Jughead lifting his knuckle to knock on the door. They waited a few seconds before Jughead knocked again, this time, the door became ajar. Jughead pushed the door open further to see the house was completely empty. No sign of life anywhere.

Walking in further, Jughead made a run for the stairs, straight towards Y/N’s bedroom. He pushed open the door to see only a bed remaining, no sheets or pillows, just the mattress on the ground. He was angry at himself for giving up so easily on searching for her, she probably hated him for never trying hard enough to search for her, but that is, if she was even alive.

Jughead kicked the mattress with such force out of anger he managed to flip it over, revealing a brown leather journal. He frowned, picking up the book. He’d never seen this before, Y/N never mentioned she’d written in a diary. She’d always tell Jughead she’d leave the writing to him.

He opened it, seeing a date for every single day, some things about him, others about her family and their fighting, school…everything. He moved to the last page for her last entry that she had recorded.

May 16th 2016

Dear Diary,

I still can’t believe that I introduced every entry like that. I guess maybe I really wasn’t a creative type. Anyway, this’ll be the last entry I leave.

To anyone that can find this, more specifically Jughead, things changed.

I changed.

I didn’t know how to fight it or come to terms with it, I guess this is why I’ve ran away.

Jughead knew it, she did run, she ran as far as she could and he wasn’t there to stop her.

Everyone will be searching for me, even my parents, but I don’t want to be found.

I want to be saved.

I’ve spent too much time trying to be the best I could for everyone else, but never for me. My family…though they always wanted to best for me, they forced it way too much.

I broke.

I didn’t ever want anyone to see that happy, bubbly girl broken…especially you, Juggie.

Jughead felt his eyes starting to water, reading the words Y/N wrote from her own heart.

Juggie, if you ever find this and you’ve given up hope in finding me, I wanna let you know that I’m not mad and I never will be. I can’t bare you to see me in this state of mind, looking so sad and lost…I was supposed to give you hope and happiness that you never got with your own family, I’m sorry that I couldn’t do that.

There’s something else you should know, and I can’t keep in anymore.

I love you, Jughead Jones III. I always have.

I know we are friends, but I wish for more every time I’m with you. If you finally find this at some point, I wanna give a clue into finding me, if you want to find me.

What is my favourite place where I feel the safest?

You’ll know, you always did.

Love Y/N.

Jughead closed the journal, running his fingers over the front cover. He knew exactly where she could be and he couldn’t believe he didn’t think of it sooner. He sprinted down the stairs to his friends, looking flustered but full of adrenaline. His friends looked at him then to the journal he held in his hand.

‘Guys, I think I found her.’

‘That’s great. So, where is she?’ Ronnie asked.

‘The place she feels the safest. The same place where we met for the first time…’

‘Which is where?’ Betty asked.

‘The old Riverdale Library.’

**

They all sprinted up the staircase of the abandoned Riverdale library, seeing the padlock had already broken off of the entrance. That hadn’t happened before, something was wrong. Jughead sprinted inside, followed by his friends who looked everywhere.

‘Y/N!’ Jughead exclaimed, his voice echoing throughout the building. He ran straight over to her favourite section of the library. He looked down the isle, seeing a bunch of blankets and a body laying on top of them. ‘Oh my god…’

Betty, Ronnie and Archie watched in horror as they saw the body laying still on top of the blankets. Jughead bent down, grabbing their shoulder to see the face of the girl he loved, Y/N…

Alive.

She was battered and bruised, a black eye consuming most of her face. She looked so pale and fragile, but still had the same Y/H/C hair he’d remembered from so long ago.

‘Y/N, c’mon – wake up…’ Jughead whispered. He shook her shoulder gently, seeing her Y/E/C orbs looking at him. She gave him a tired, weak smile, which made Jughead’s heart warm at the sight. He finally found her. He did it.

‘Hey Juggie,’ she croaked out, ‘You got my message, huh?’

‘Yeah, I did.’ He grabbed her cold hand in his large, warm one, lacing his fingers with her.

‘Too bad someone else found me before you did…’ she coughed, slowly sitting up. She looked behind him to see the faces of Archie, Betty and an unfamiliar raven haired girl. ‘My father… he-he worked for some pretty bad people. Not like what your dad is Jug, it-it was so much worse.’

‘How bad, Y/N?’ Archie asked instead, kneeling down next to Jughead.

‘That they fled before I had even returned home.’ Jughead’s heart hurt hearing the words of the people that were almost like his own parents. ‘These guys, another gang, were after him and I ran, but not with my parents. They’re somewhere in hiding in San Francisco the last time I heard and changed their name. I decided to move around different places, but I always came back here to the library, hoping and waiting that someone would find my note in my diary. Sadly, the gang did before you.’ She gestured to her bruised and blooded face, looking into Jughead’s sad eyes. ‘I’m alright, just in a little pain.’

‘Why didn’t you ask for help? You know Kevin’s dad would’ve done something.’ Betty reasoned.

‘Because it was too risky and I knew they were after me to get to my parents. What if they went after you guys next?’ Y/N looked at each of her friends faces It was best I remained in hiding until Jughead found me.’

‘You’re safe now, alright? Nothing’s going to happen to you anymore, I promise.’ Jughead cupped Y/N’s cheeks with his hands, placing his lips onto hers, something he’d been waiting to do for so long. He pulled away, pulling her in for a hug. Y/N gripped onto him, feeling her eyes water in happiness. She grabbed hold of Archie’s hand and gave Betty a warm smile.

‘Not to be rude, but, who’s the new girl?’ Y/N asked, making Ronnie chuckle.

‘I’m Veronica Lodge, I’m new to Riverdale – well, not really anymore. It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N. Feel free to call me Ronnie.’ She smiled, nodding her head.

‘You too, Ronnie.’ Y/N chuckled, standing up with the help of Jughead. Y/N looked over to the entrance, clenching Jughead’s hand. ‘Where am I gonna live, Jug?’

‘You can live with me.’ Archie answered. ‘Jug’s moved in, I’m sure my dad would be glad to see you alive.’ Y/N chuckled, nodding her head towards him.

‘Thanks Andrews, I’ve missed Fred.’ She laughed, walking along beside Jughead.

Archie, Ronnie and Betty walked ahead, leaving Jughead and Y/N to have a private moment together. ‘So,’ Jughead began, a small smirk on his face, ‘you love me, huh?’

Y/N chuckled, looking down at her feet. ‘Maybe, and with that kiss, I’m guessing you love me, huh?’ She mocked, causing Jug to laugh.

‘Yeah, yeah I do. As long as I’m alive, Y/N, you’re never leaving my side again.’ He kissed her forehead, pulling her close to his chest, where his heart warmed for her.

‘I’m okay with that.’ She whispered.

Tags: @jennathatsmyname @sweetvengeancee @sunshine51879 @phanofmydreams @mrsjugheadjonesthethird @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven 

Happy Birthday, Sammy

Warnings: None
Characters: Sam & Dean Winchester, Sister!Winchester Reader
Summary: ISH SAMMEHS BIRFDAY
Reader’s Age: Old enough to drive
Word count: 652

Y/N: Your Name

A/N: I’M SORRY IF THIS SUCKS I KINDA JUST COUGHED IT UP OUT OF NOWHERE AND ALL MY INSPIRATION IS GONE BUT ANYWAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAMMY! Enjoy!


You ran down the bunker hall and into the library, almost slipping in the process. Sam was leaning on the table, talking to Dean.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SAMMY!” you yelled and tackled Sam to the ground. You laid on top of your brother, hugging him.

Sam laid there in shock for a moment before patting your back and mumbled a “Thanks”

“Y'know, Sam, she does that every year, you should really learn to expect it,” Dean chimed in.

“Yeah. It was cute when she was little, but every year I expect her to grow out of it.” Sam pushed you off of him.

“I will never grow out of it,” you slapped Sam who held up his hands in defense before getting up.

“It’s just a birthday, Y/N.” Sam helped you up.

“Just a birthday? This was the day that you, Sam Winchester, was born! Thirty-four years ago today you came into this world!”

Sam and Dean both gave you a weird look. “What’s wrong with you?” Sam asked.

“Oh, nothing…” you smiled and ran off.

You had planned a few things to do with Sam today, you wanted to make sure it would be things he really enjoyed.


“C'mon, Sammy!” you waltzed into the library where Sam was sitting.

“Where we goin’?” Sam looked over at you.

“You and I are gonna spend the entire day together for your birthday. Dean, you can come too if you want,” you offered.

Dean chuckled, “I’m good, but thanks.”

Sam sighed. “Okay, let’s go” Sam got up and followed you outside.

“Where are we going first?” Sam asked while getting into the passenger side.

“Lunch,”


You arrived at Sam’s favorite diner. You got a burger and Sam got a salad. You guys talked about everything. From cases to things happening in school.

Once you both were done, you guys headed back out. You got back into the car and drove off.


You pulled into a zoo parking lot. You and your brothers rarely go to zoos, but you’ve always enjoyed them. “The zoo?” Sam questioned.

“They have a few new exhibits! I’ve been wanting to check them out!” you opened your door and got out. Sam chuckled but nonetheless got out.

After paying to get in you both decided to go to the new exhibits first. Your first stop is the Stingray Touch Pool. The stingrays were small but loved to be petted.

You and Sam headed out of the touch pool and went towards the seals and sea lions. They were having a show. You and Sam both sat down on the bleachers and watched the show. A zoo staff member talked about the seals and showed a few tricks they can do.

Once the show was over you and Sam headed over to the giraffes. “Look, Sam! You’re almost as tall as them!” you joked, earning an eye roll from Sam.


After a long day at the zoo, you and Sam decided to call it a day. You had more stuff planned, but you two were too tired to do anything else.


You and Sam arrived back at the bunker. You guys walked into the bunker and down the stairs. You two walked into the library to see food covering the tables. One table was full of junk food and the other was covered in healthy food. Dean was sitting on a chair in front of the junk food table, reading a magazine.  

“Dean?” Sam spoke first. Dean hummed in response, “What is all this?”

“Y/N wanted a big surprise when you got home so she had me buy a bunch of food., Dean answered.

"Happy birthday, Sammy!” you cheered. “There’s a table for Dean and me, and if you want you can have a cheat day, but then there’s this table for you that’s filled with your rabbit food.”

Sam chuckled and walked over to the healthy food table. “Thanks, Y/N… and Dean.”

Dean raised his beer, “To Sam,” Sam grabbed a beer and raised it. You grabbed a nearby water bottle and raised it.

“Happy birthday, Sammy.”

I hope y’all like this one! I’m open for tips on improving!

Tags: @magicalsis11 @joanne-egberp @16wiishes @fanboyswhereare-you @athenepallas @spnkisum @xsecretrejectx @jamric @oneshotsdeanshort @jensen-jarpad @capruinedmylife @bea789 @starswirlblitz @of-virtuoso @damalseer @iamflanneltrash @zeusmyster

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