this would have turned out better if i didn't fall asleep while making this

anonymous asked:

fitzsimmons + 10 if you're up for it? :)

things you said that made me feel like shit’ – okay, I know this is super cheating, but I just couldn’t bear to have Jemma or Fitz say something like this especially with current canon haha. So it’s a different kind of heartache!

—–

“I hate you!” James screams, his face scrunched up in the devastating combination of impotent fury and heartbreak that only the very young can manage. “I hate you and I wish I’d never been born!”

Every cell in Fitz’s body seems to still; synapses refuse to fire in his brain. Is this parenthood? he wonders. He hadn’t known letting a piece of your own heart free into the world would mean there was the possibility of it returning ashamed and angry and wishing for annihilation as some nuclear option solution.

“I think you should go to your room now,” Fitz says, voice even and unflinching. “Just go to your room and stay there until you’ve calmed down.”

James turns and runs, stomping so loudly that dirty dishes rattle in the sink. He slams his bedroom door shut and Fitz winces at the echoing sound.

Fitz presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose, feeling slightly dizzy at how quickly the situation had spun out of control. He replayed his own words in his head and couldn’t see where he might have avoided the escalation. But of course he’s missing something. What other explanation could there be?

He walks to James’s bedroom door and knocks softly. When there’s no response he rests his forehead against the wood and closes his eyes.

“I just want you to know that I love you, James,” he says. “Nothing will change that, okay?”

“Go away!” James yells, and so Fitz does. What else is there to do when your own son hates you? What more can possibly be said?

++

When Jemma arrives from a late shift in the lab, the usually-cheery house is eerily silent and dark.

“Fitz?” she calls. “James?” She’s not worried, per se, but living the sort of life she’s lived has given her an edge. Sometimes, she still sees monsters lurking in the corners.

She finds Fitz first, sitting at the kitchen table with his head resting against his arms. She can sense sorrow thick as molasses pooling from him.

“Fitz?” she asks again, more softly this time. She sits down next to him and rests a hand on his shoulder, which finally causes him to look up. She can tell he’s been crying and her immediate reaction is to worry about their son.

“He’s fine,” Fitz says, as if reading her thoughts. He jerks his head over his shoulder, in the vague direction of their son’s bedroom. “We got into an…argument.”

“Oh, Fitz,” Jemma says in sympathy. James was normally the sweetest, most well-behaved boy, tender enough to melt your heart, but in the past year he’d decided yelling was the best way to air his frustrations.

“I’m absolute shite at this,” Fitz whispers, burying his head into his arms again. “I have no idea what to say to him.”

“You are not! It’s just a phase…I hope.” She realizes at the same time that Fitz scoffs that she probably hadn’t been very reassuring.

“He said,” and here Fitz lowers his voice even more, as if what James has said is some demon that can be brought forth by simply uttering its name, “he said he hated me and that he wished he’d never been born. That’s…Jemma, he’s eight and his biggest regret is that he exists.”

Jemma’s heart clenches tightly and she chokes on the inhale. Talk of regrets is, all these years later, still a delicate balancing act in their household. She rests her head against his arm, gripping his elbow with her hand. “Fitz, that’s not his biggest regret. He was just throwing a tantrum. He said the same thing to me the other week.”

At this, Fitz looks up, his normally bright eyes dulled with pain but questioning nonetheless. “He said that to you? You didn’t mention it.”

Jemma scrunches up her face, realizing suddenly that she hadn’t. “Of course I was going to,” she shrugs. “But then your mum came to pick him up and he was happy as ever when he came back. And we were in the middle of that big project. It just slipped my mind.”

“It slipped your mind?” Fitz repeats incredulously, as if he can’t imagine how something so awfully momentous could have fallen into the background of their lives.

Jemma smiles, running her hands lightly through his overgrown curls. “One of the boys at school was yelling at his mum the other day. I think they’re all feeding off each other a bit. Anyway, honestly, I don’t think it’s a huge deal. Children say these things. Didn’t you ever say something like that to your mum when you were a kid?”

But even as she says it, even as Fitz’s eyes widen at her question, she knows he never did. Fitz and his mum had been each other’s only allies. It had been the two of them—against his father, against a world they wanted to believe was beautiful despite its cruelty, despite how horribly it had let them down. No, Fitz would never have told his mother he hated her, would never have even thought it.

Jemma wraps her arms around her husband, as if she can shield him from everything. From bullets, from evil organizations infiltrating their lives, from an eight-year-old’s careless words.

“I love you,” she says, peppering kisses along his face. “I love you and James loves you and you are an excellent father. We’ll talk to him together, okay?”

Fitz melts into her, nodding carefully. Jemma sighs. Marriage and parenthood were her two favorite things she’d ever experienced in a lifetime of amazing experiences, but how was she to know letting pieces of your heart reside in other people could amplify your own sorrow?

Jemma places a kiss against his forehead, breathing in the scent of home, knowing her heart had never completely been her own anyway.

++

Fitz jerks awake, not entirely certain where he is, when he realizes his son is standing at his bedside.

“Daddy?” he whispers, voice thick with tears, and Fitz sits up in concern.

“What is it, James? Are you okay?” Next to him, Jemma hasn’t even stirred.

James shakes his head at the question and throws himself into Fitz’s arms, crying wretchedly into his chest. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean it. I don’t know why I said it. I love you, I promise.”

Fitz draws his legs up so that James is cocooned in his arms and rocks him gently, like he’d done when he was young. James usually fidgets out of his grasp if he feels he’s in any way being treated like a baby, but now he relaxes into Fitz’s embrace, nearly boneless with relief.

“I love you, too, James,” Fitz says against the top of his son’s head. His soft hair reminds Fitz of when he’d been just a baby, of cupping his perfect head in his hands and being terrified and enamored beyond belief.

“You’re my best friend,” James says quietly, and Fitz loses the battle with his own tears at the admission.

“It’s okay,” Fitz reassures him. “It’s going to be okay.” They sit this way for a while, Fitz gently stroking his son’s hair, before he realizes that James is about to fall asleep in his arms.

“How about I take you back to bed?” he asks, but James grips Fitz’s waist tighter and shakes his head.

“Okay,” Fitz says, pretending to think carefully. “How about you stay in here tonight, and tomorrow we make Mummy pancakes so she doesn’t get cross with us?”

James nods and allows Fitz to carefully lift him from his arms and place him in between his parents. Fitz shifts to his side so he’s facing James and kisses his cheek. “Let’s just go to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Jemma moves in her sleep suddenly and James widens his eyes, putting a finger to his lips to shush his father. Fitz nods in agreement and they both hold their breath. A moment passes, and then another, and then Jemma turns until she’s curled up protectively against James, still sound asleep.

James grins over at Fitz and then snuggles closer to him. They’re both asleep within minutes.

anonymous asked:

32!!

“why did we have to have kids?”
-

you’ve been tired before, back in high school and collage during exam times, when you couldn’t sleep because of stress, or just when you stayed up all night talking with your husband, but you’ve never been this tired before.

when they said having a baby would be hard, they weren’t wrong. but what made things even harder was the fact that you had two.

two month old twin girls were a handful, especially early in the morning when one would cry and the other would wake up and join in.

you and shawn couldn’t take turns since both girls needed to be tended to. the both of you were getting about 2 hours of sleep each night and it was really starting to affect you.

the two of you stood in your girls’ nursery, each holding one girl trying to soothe them back to sleep. you knew neither of them needed to be fed since you fed them about 3 hours ago.

shawn had managed to get one of the babies to fall back asleep, while you were still struggling. it was always easier for him since he sang them back to sleep, but unfortunately you weren’t talented when it came to singing.

sometimes it made you feel like a horrible mother. what kind of mom couldn’t put their own kid to sleep?

shawn noticed you struggling and took his daughter from your arms and softly sang to her until she fell asleep. you smiled gratefully as the two of you walked back to your room in silence.

the two of you laid in bed, not being able to fall back asleep. you faced away from shawn, not wanting him to see you on the verge of tears.

you couldn’t help it anymore. you never thought having a kid would be this hard. even though shawn was a massive help, you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling tried emotionally and physically.

“y/n,” shawn whispered, lightly turning you around so you could face him.

he immediately noticed the tears that were now streaming down your face.

“honey, what’s wrong?” he said, immediately pulling you into his chest and rubbing your back soothingly.

you knew you had to tell him before things got any worse.

“what did we have to have kids shawn? nobody told us it was going to be this hard.”

you knew it was horrible to be at this point only two months into motherhood, but you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling like this no matter how hard you tried.

“i’m such a horrible mom, i can’t even put my own daughter to sleep!”

“y/n you’re an amazing mother, don’t ever say that. the girls love you so much. i know you’re tired right now, we both are. but i promise, it’s going to get better.”

he continued to trace patterns on your back as you calmed down. about an hour later, you heard the cries of one little girl, followed by the next over the baby monitor next to your bed.

you were starting to get out of the bed, knowing it was time for them to be fed, but you were stopped by shawn.

“stay here, i’ll bring them to you.”

he kissed your forehead before making his way down the hall to the nursery. you could tell he was just as tired as you by the way his feet dragged.

you knew even though it was hard now, you and shawn were going to be okay in the end.

Submission

“Rawr! I am Delirious, the most vicious monster in the whole wide world!” A scrawny man in a blue hoodie spoke. His face was nearly completely hidden by a hockey mask, and he had a machete strapped to one side of his waist. The normally solid forest ground was mushy under his dark blue boots, not that it bothered him nor his partner much.

“Oh yeah? That’s why you haven’t gotten one kill, huh?” Delirious’s “partner in crime”, so to speak, teased the shorter man. The partner, better known as Cartoonz, had skin the color of blood, a missing right eye, and short, dull horns. He had a pair of bat-like wings that currently kept him aloft, dark red claws instead of fingers or toes, and a thin, razor tipped tail that only ever drooped. His clothes were loose, often ripped and dirty.

Neither were good at what they were supposed to be, but neither truly wanted to be.

“Look ‘Toonz, I need a better introduction! The last people we found laughed at me.”

“Yeah, I know. They laughed at me, too- Wait, did you hear that?” Cartoonz’s question was directed at an odd noise. It sounded both familiar, yet very different than any sound they’d heard before.

“I heard that! It sounds human!” Delirious spoke quickly, looking at his best friend. Before the conversation could continue, the mysterious noise squeaked out of a nearby bush.

“It’s coming from here. Stand back, Delirious. I’ll check it out,” Cartoonz whispered as he approached the bush. Moving carefully, he pulled the leaves to the side, revealing two small cloth bundles. He picked the noisier bundle up gently, and cautiously pulled the blanket away from the source of the noise.

“Delirious… Look at this,” Cartoonz’s voice was quiet and shaky now. Delirious crept up to his friend, and confusedly took the small bundle forced into his arms. Cartoonz then picked up the other cloth wrapped thing, and lifted the cloth away from it.

“…What is this thing, ‘Toonz?” Delirious questioned before a happy giggle floated from the bundle.

“I think it’s a little human. What were they called… 'babies’?”

“Makes sense. Hey, this little guy’s pretty cute!” Delirious smiled at the baby in his arms, which stared back at him. The baby had light blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. The other baby in Cartoonz’s arms also had blonde hair, but crisp violet eyes, rather than azure.

“Yeah, they are. Maybe we should ask the Wraith about them. He knows a lot about humans, so he’ll be able to help us take care of them,” Cartoonz offered the idea hesitantly, almost as if he was unsure. The thought that the babies would be abandoned by them was discarded by the pair before they even realized it was an option.

“Or maybe we should ask the Nurse. She should know a lot about humans from taking care of them so long, right?” Delirious pointed out as he began to walk towards a cabin. He and Cartoonz had long ago repurposed the empty house into a comfortable living space, and they both lived there.

“Yeah. Wait, we can’t tell them! If we tell them we’re taking care of humans, they’ll kill them, or they’ll tell the Entity!” Cartoonz realized, panic rushing from his words. The small babe in his arms blinked up at him and smiled, while the other just giggled and grabbed Delirious’s pointer finger.

“Not gonna happen then. Look at these two. We can’t just let them die!” Delirious agreed, allowing the baby to play with his finger until they put it in their mouth. “Ah! No! that can’t be good for you!” He yelped, pulling his finger away as the babies clapped and laughed. Cartoonz couldn’t stop his guffaws at the sight of his best friend waving a finger in front of a happy little baby.

“Well, if we’re going to take care of these two, then we should give them names, right?” The winged man questioned the other. When they finally arrived at the somewhat small log cabin they called home, they pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The living room was comfortably warm, with a pair of couches, a few chairs, and a fireplace that contained a blazing fire. There was a fluffy carpet spread on the floor, meaning no shoes were ever worn about in this room. The kitchen had a tiled floor and a small table with four chairs surrounding it. The counters were clean and the fridge was stocked. Upstairs, there were two bedrooms and a pair of bathrooms.

Delirious kicked off his shoes before stepping into the living room, cradling the child like he had done it before. A broken memory tugged at the back of his mind, but the second he payed attention to it, it was gone. He shook his head to regain focus, then spoke.

“Yeah, they gotta have names. Let’s each name one,” Delirious determined, grinning behind the mask he never took off. He plopped himself down on one of the couches, while Toonz took a seat in an armchair.

“Well, you go first then.”

At Cartoonz’s words, Delirious looked at the blonde babe who had fallen asleep in his arms moments before. “Uh… how about, uh… Wildcat? 'Cause-, 'cause he’s so fierce! Is that a good name?”

“Sounds good enough as a nickname,” Cartoonz shrugged, before turning his attention to the child in his arms who stared up at him with innocent purple eyes. “Well… what do you think of 'Bryce’?”

“Bwyce!” The babe gurgled out, beaming as they tried to say their name. “Bwyce! Bwyce!” Cartoonz felt a flash of an emotion he hadn’t felt in a long time. Pride. He lifted the baby off his lap and up so he could look them in the eyes.

“That’s right. Bryce,” Cartoonz affirmed. Bryce giggled and clapped his hands together, smiling tiredly, before he yawned and fell asleep. Delirious cooed at his partner, who’s face turned another shade darker. After a second of silence, Delirious sat up, seeming to come up with an idea.

“Alright, I’ve got it! How about 'Tyler’? 'Cause it sounds like tiger.”

“You will not let the cat thing go, huh?”

“Shush up! It’s a cool name.”

Cartoonz laughed at Delirious’s indignant response. Before they knew it, both humanoid monsters were yawning and falling asleep themselves.

004. morning kisses | pjm

morning kisses
[Pairing] Jimin | Reader
[Genre] Fluff, Drabble
[Word Count] 731


The morning breeze tickling your nose was what first caught your attention as you were slowly dragged from your slumber.  The second thing was just how cold you were because yet again, Jimin had stolen the duvet.  The third was the light making the back of your eyelids just a bit more red than black.  Lastly, was the absence of a familiar weight around your midsection.

Blinking and struggling to adjust to the light trickling through the open window (thankfully the thin curtains were down, somewhat shielding you from the onslaught of UV rays), you turned your head to see a mess of black hair and swollen red lips.  Just the sight made you smile; you turned your whole body just so you can look at the boy next to you.

Jimin’s hair was everywhere, and thankfully it was just short enough that it didn’t cover his eyes (well, it wouldn’t if they were open).  It looked just as silky as you knew it felt, having ran your hands through it just the night before.  You wanted to do it again but withheld the urge: you didn’t want to wake him up just yet.

His head was securely tucked into his pillow, his arm curled under it to keep it close, and the duvet was pulled up to his chin.  The only indication of his tight grasp on it was the way it scrunched up a little further down from the top, exactly where it was tucked under his side so it wouldn’t move.  The arm that usually would be resting lazily across your stomach was up, it’s hand pressed against his chin and the bottom of his lip.  It only served to make his lips fuller, if that was possible.

His lips.  Red and swollen, they were pursed ever so slightly, almost as if he were pouting, with a small gap inbetween.  At random moments when he’d jerk in his sleep, they’d pop out a tiny bit more, practically begging for your attention.  It took everything within you not to lean over and press your own lips against his, just to feel the cracks and rough patches on them before he covered his lips in lip balm.

With his lips pursed, the hollows of his cheeks—the right side with a small breakout, almost too light to be noticed, even without makeup—sucked in a tiny bit.  It did nothing to hide the puffiness of his cheeks, though.  You never quite knew why, but every morning his face seemed to be puffier than usual.  You didn’t mind; it was one of many things you absolutely adored about him.

His delicate eyelashes rested against the tops of his cheeks, somewhat covering the purplish bags from all the nights he spent up in the practice room, memorizing choreography with Hoseok so they could help the other members learn it.  You remember many caffeine charged nights spent waiting for him, just so you could let him fall asleep with you holding him.  Whenever he was exhausted, he always became the little spoon, no matter what, and you were okay with it.

The only sound in the room was that of his soft snoring, almost quiet enough to be mistaken as simply breathing.  You had barely even noticed that you were holding your breath, as if just the sound of it could wake him—ridiculous really, considering you knew just how hard it was to wake him up.  So, as you let out a breath, a lazy smile found its way onto your lips, and you leaned forward.

As you got closer, you noticed he had forgotten to take his earrings out.  Even closer and you noticed the small bit of drool at the corner of his mouth.  Closer still, and you could feel his soft breath, steady and warm against your skin.  Your lips softly touched his, unable to hold yourself back, and as your eyes fluttered closed, his fluttered open.

He leaned in, and it wasn’t long before you found yourself underneath him: his firm, bare chest pressing against yours and your palms flat against it.  Jimin pulled back, his large, warm eyes gazing down at you with a small smile playing on his lips.  You giggled softly, leaning up to catch his lips again in a quick peck, uncaring that both of you probably had horrible morning breath.

“Well, good morning to you, too.”

Idiots Everywhere | Best friend AU | Jimin

Word Count: 1.9k 

Summary: You might be dating a world class jerk and Jimin may be your best friend that absolutely hates him, but hey. At least there’s Taehyung and Jungkook. 

Originally posted by bwipsul

“Jimin, quit it,” you rolled your eyes at the boy next to you.

Keep reading

Broken [ Part 12 ]

Prologue ( Optional ) || Part 1 || Part 2|| Part 3 || Part 4||Part 5|| Part 6||Part 7||Part 8|| Part 9|| Part 10|| Part 11 ||Part 12 ||Part 13 ||Part 14|| Part 15||Part 16|| Part 17 || Part 18 || Part 19 || Part 20 ||

Summary : Can a broken soul be put back together ? ( Mafia Au )

Warnings : Violence.


“Go! ”

Jae-In turned at that, to see jungkook with his fingers wrapped around your forearm and you standing there one foot out the door and the other hesitantly still inside. You were about to take another step when he yelled out.

“ Y/N, Stop right there !” He ordered, your body, as much as you hated it froze as his commend having been so used to it, so used to submitting to him. He pushed Hoseok from his grip, to come to you.

“ I’m still not done here.” Said Hoseok as he pulled the man back to him, turning from the two of you and throwing him to the ground away from you. Seeing how his push was so powerful to throw Jae-In easily half-way across the room, you realized he was only taking the hits to give you the time to get away. But why ?

He glanced back at you through sweaty bangs falling past his eyes, but you could tell the anger and darkness in his eyes, “ I said go” He growled the vibrations from his voice making you shiver.

“ Y/N, please …” Jungkook’s, much softer voice, tore you away from Hoseok and you regained your senses. You looked at him nodding as he started moving again dragging you away and out.

Hoseok rubbed his sore jaw, turning his attention to the man on the ground, now that you were gone. “ Now, let’s play.” He picked Jae-in by the collar making him stand straight. There was another echo of bone against bone, strong enough that you heard it from the outside of the room.

You almost tripped on your own feet trying to match Jungkook’s hurried and large steps down the stairs, driving you into his back multiple times. He didn’t stop until you reached the room that served them as entrance just moments before, only then does he look at you.

“ I’ll go first, so I can catch you.” He pulled a chair to the window to make it easier for you to reach it. He let go of your hand to climb up and you tugged his sleeve to stop him.

“ Why are you doing this ? You could get killed ” You questioned, your mind only now starting to think straight after everything happened too fast for you to process. He just smiled shaking his head, as if telling you he doesn’t know, or that he won’t answer. Either ways your question was left on the open. “ Be quick” was the only thing he said before swiftly jumping up then back down the other side.

You breathed in stepping on the chair, which much to your frustration and fear wobbled at the contact of your legs. You peeked down at the distance between you and the ground, it wasn’t a big one but still frightening enough, then at him. He opened his arms, assuring you it was okay to trust him, then waved for you to come down. His eyes momentarily darting to all the directions to make sure no one was coming your way. You climbed up, squatting on the edge, still hesitate, you were never a height person. Before you could jump, you heard a loud scream of “ Get him!”. Not too long after that, Hoseok came bursting through the door, running away from someone who was close enough you could hear the loud thud of their boots on the stairs.

“ Jump, Y/N” He stated pushing you down, not giving you the chance to actually do as he said. You fell straight into Jungkook’s arms who, unlike you, was actually ready. He put you down his hand finding yours immediately as he starting to run, you closely behind him. Hoseok joined you shortly after, he could’ve passed you two easily since Jungkook had you slowing him down but he fell behind, so that he was between you and the guys following. You turned your head to glance back, wishing you hadn’t. It seemed like a scene straight out of a drama, well, your life hasn’t been the normal one anyways. When you turned back to jungkook, you found him smiling, not just a faint lifeless twist in his lips as always, but an excited grin. He was enjoying it, and deep inside you were amused by the adrenaline rushing through your body heating you up and disguising any pain you had. Even at the pace you were going, which wasn’t really that fast, you felt like nothing could catch you and the hand tightly squeezing yours in warmth made it more certain.

“ Hyung !” Jungkook yelled to the other side of the fence where the others were, their guns already out and pointed past you, The pink haired man taking it one step further as to point a large rifle, which you couldn’t name, and concentrating on whatever target he was eying. In the speed of the moment you failed to notice Yoongi’s worried look as he exchanged glances between the three of you and where Namjoon was targeting almost stepping up to tear him away from the weapon.

You reached the metallic barrier, seemingly the only thing stopping you from your “freedom”. Once you and Jungkook crossed it, panting on the other side and hiding behind the others, and Hoseok doing the same shortly after. All the guns clicked at once sending random bullets everywhere, then after that, was the sound of flesh breaking then the sight blood splattering and spilling from the fresh wounds, the men falling to the ground. Kook stepped in front of you, as you were facing the massacre, blocking it from your eyes.

“ Are okay ? Does anything hurt ?” His hands left yours to tilt your head up to look at him, examining your features. Looking at his face was no different, faint spots of dried out blood were present on both his cheeks and forehead. You reached up to try and wipe it away when the sound of the heavy bullets suddenly stopped and the oldest urging you to get into the car with incoherent shouting.

You were pushed inside, between Jungkook and Jimin, in the back. It had happened before, back when they first took you but this time … This time was different, pleasantly different. The engine started with a roar and Jin drove away creating a large cloud of dirt and dust flying up from the sudden turn of tires. The ones who now had courage to come out from every side of the house started to abandonly shoot in all directions hoping to hit something but you had gotten too far away for them to be able to.

“ That was fucking close !” Taehyung squeaked, always happy with a little action.

“ Is everyone okay ?” Jin concerned but unable to look back, concentrating on not killing everyone by crashing into something. He only spared stolen glances in Jimin’s direction from the rear-view mirror. The calm pants coming out of a half-asleep Jimin disappeared under the heavy breathing coming from you, jungkook, and hoseok who still had to catch their airless lungs. It all calmed down into the same pattern after a few moments of deep and focused breaths.

You watched as the orange-headed man’s chest rose and fell back down slowly his head falling to rest on the window’s glass ever so gently, soon after you could hear a light snoring coming from him raising a chuckle from anyone who could also hear it too. His face looked worse than he did before, much worse, and his shaky inhales were clue that his physical state wasn’t that great. While you unconsciously followed his every movement, Jungkook was watching yours. A silly smile plastered on his face the entire time and his eyes not fluttering away from you, another squeeze on your hands as he entangled his fingers with yours. A motion that caught you off-guard and your eyes shot to the side to meet his.

Like a domino effect, his smile made you smile which only enlarged his grin. “ I’m … ” You stuttered trying to find the words, everything mixed up in your mind. You wanted to thank him, them, you wanted to scold him for being so reckless, so many things you had to say, and so many thing you needed to tell him. But he silenced you with something you didn’t know you craved to hear until it left his soft, lightly moistened, and red lips.

“ I missed you.” He whispered so only you would hear him, knowing that the others wouldn’t shut up about it. Your eyes widened and you furrowed your eyebrows, wondering if your heard it right, if it wasn’t the rush of emotions blocking your ears and making you delirious. He lowered his head until your foreheads touched and he lingered a moment, enough for him to let our a deep sigh closing his eyes. “ I thought I would never see you again.” the purity of the sincere worry in his voice made your eyes tear up and you couldn’t help but smile.

You weren’t sure what you were feeling at that moment but the tingling sensation in the pits of your stomach and a strange sense of joy and satisfaction, mostly from having just heard the words you never thought would be said to you and in a tone you never even dared to dream of it passing your ears. You rubbed your forehead against his letting your head slide down to his shoulder burying your face in its crook, your tears falling down to wet the skin of his neck as you listened to his heartbeat the sound of it so mesmerizing it could drive you to sleep right then and there. He rested his chin on top of  your head, his eyes still closed savoring the moment, your breathing and your scent.

You didn’t know each other that well, if not at all. But the two of you felt in so much comfort at this moment, no questions asked and no answers given, so much that you wished time would still for you. Like this in his embrace you felt safe. A feeling you have missed, almost forgotten, how it was to not feel in constant danger even though you knew things will not get better but at least he was there. Your emotions were confusing, chaotic but somehow it made sense. Somehow.

~~

“ Someone wake up Jimin.” Namjoon stated stepping outside and opening the doors to the car. You peeled yourself from Jungkook, who protested the loss of contact before opening his eyes and realizing he was home, and nudged the sleeping man’s arm with your shoulder lightly in hopes it would wake him up.

“ I think we’ll have to carry him inside.” Said Taehyung turning around in his seat to look at him.

“ You do it, you know I have a bad back ” scoffed Yoongi, being the first one to go in followed by Jin.

“ I’ll do it.” Offered Hoseok as he jumped off the car and turned to the backseat pulling Jimin onto his back. The other just grunted from the little pain he felt before drifting off to sleep again. Jungkook opened his side door, stretching a bit upon getting out then offering you his hand – more urging you to take it than simply offering – and you gladly took it, helping yourself out. Now, that the adrenaline was dying off and you blood was cooling down, the aftermath of all that running came crushing down on your knees as soon as your legs hit the ground. They staggered for a split second before you seized yourself blaming it on having sat pressed between the two for too long.

Taehyung, who walked off behind Hoseok at first came back with a smirk, he waved at the two of you standing hand in hand in front of the house forgetting that you shouldn’t be lurking out for too long.

“ Jin wants to see you … the both of you.”

you dont’t remember me? part 2

prompt:  bucky gets a short terms memory loss from a mission and he doesn’t remember you nor your relationship with him.

pairing: bucky x reader  tonyx reader 

warning: a bit angsty 

A/n: a lot of people wanted a second part so here you go! I will make a part 3 is you guys want one, it’s 2:25 am here so I’m gonna go to sleep. Hope you enjoy this <3 

part:1

tags: @heaven-bound-angel @electronicstrangerdaze @janeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee @vivianbabz


“ if you don’t mind me asking but, who are you?” your heart sank when Bucky said that. Bucky continued to look at you still having no clue about who you were.

“you don’t remember me?” you said with teary eyes.

You looked at Steve trying to figure out what had happened to bucky while you were unconscious. 

“ I don't think we have ever met before,” Bucky said “if we did I am sure that I wouldn’t forget someone as beautiful as you,” he said winking at you. 

Bucky was shocked at what he just did. He knew that this wasn't him. He was usually quieter and definitely less flirty. Especially to people he just met but for some reason, he couldn't control himself. It’s like his mouth that a mind of his own. 

When you first walked in the room he couldn’t help but think that he knew you, that you shared some kind of bound, like you were meant for each other. Sure he didn't know who you were but he was desperate to find out.

You couldn’t hold back your tears anymore.

You ran out of the small room Bucky was staying in. You heard your name being called out by Steve, but you paid no attention to it. 

You were running so fast, you didn’t see Tony walking in front you. 

You were knocked out your senses when you bumped into to the man himself with a loud ‘thud’. “Woah Kid you alright? why are you running?”  Tony asked you. 

You lifted your head and looked at Tony with your red puffy eyes and hugged him. He wasn’t much of a hugger but knowing the state that you were in right now he didn’t care. 

“shhh Y/n” he cooed "it will be alright. I know it will" he was your cupping face in his hands. “What happened to him” you managed to say between sniffles. 

Tony sighed “Y/n you need to rest you’ve been injured" 

“N-Nooo,” you said trying to control your sobs. “ I need to know what happened to Bucky and why he doesn't remember me, Tony. I want to know, I deserve to know.” you were now screaming “What happened after the explosion Tony? I remember a wall falling on bucky and then I got hit in the back of my head and everything went black, and now my own boyfriend doesn't even recognize me.” tears were falling from your eyes once again as you remembered the scene that happened earlier with Bucky. 


Tony sighed and wiped the tears from your cheek. “Y/n… I know you deserve to know and you will” Tony looked at you “ but right now you need to rest.” “but Tony I-” you tried to compromise ” No but’s I want you to go take a shower and sleep and then I promise I will tell you what happened to Barnes" You nodded and left. 


Tony was your best friend, he was always there for you whenever you needed him and you were always there for him. Even though he didn’t like Bucky he tried to get along with him for your sake. 


You didn’t know when you fell asleep. 

After you woke up you ran out of your room eager to find Tony.

You looked for Tony around the base but he was nowhere to be seen. So you went to the one place where you were sure that Tony Stark would be. His Lab. 

“Tony” you screamed,  "I  want explanations now". He took off his glasses off and turned towards you. “ come with me” Tony asked as he walked out of the lab and entered the infirmary.  

You were standing behind a glass wall. Through the wall, you could see Bucky talking to Steve and laughing at something he said. 

You couldn’t help but smile at your boyfriend’s cuteness. You loved seeing him smile, you love the way his nose would scrunch up and he how he would have crinkles around his eyes. You loved everything about him. 

“Y/n?” Tony spoke gaining your attention" after we saved both of you and brought you to the infirmary we found out that Bucky got hit on the head “ he explained “how did he hit in the head? A wall fell on him?” you asked him “well we’re guessing that when the wall fell on him it must have hit the back of his head which is why he got diagnosed with a short term memory loss” The black haired man told you. 

“That’s why he doesn’t remember me?” he nodded “ I did some test on him to see if he, you know will go all winter soldier again, and found out that he won’t, but he doesn’t remember the fight between Steve and I but he knows that something happened between us” and  now he  said looking through the glass wall.

“so he remembers everything but me?” you said letting a tear slip not because Bucky doesn’t remember you or your relationship. No, because Bucky went through a lot in the past and now when his life started to get a bit better it just got worse. 

Tony put his arms around your shoulders.

 " it will be alright Y/n,“  he said in a reassuring tone “you need to help him remember stuff that he forgot. Doctor Cho did say that he would regain his memory faster if we help him remember  all the stuff he forgot.”

“you think so?” you said looking at him

“ I know so” you looked at him and smiled. 

“thank you, Tony, for everything” he raised an eyebrow “ I know you don’t really like Bucky, but you’re still helping him. That means a lot to me” Tony kissed your temple “no problem kid, what are friends for” he said against your temple.  

You got out of the room and saw Wanda coming towards you. She gave you a big hug “ hey Y/n, I heard what happened with Bucky and I’m sorry but, I will help you help him remember” she said giving you a warm smile.

“ me too,” said a voice that came from back of you. 

It was Steve, you smiled at both them. 

“C-can I see h-him” you stuttered a bit, your voice hoarse for crying. 

Steve nodded and you went to  Bucky’s room, he was sleeping. He looked so peaceful and innocent while he slept. 

You couldn’t help but place a soft kiss on his forehead. 

As you retreated from the kiss bucky opened his eyes. 

Part 3 nay or yay?
At Least I Didn't Think For A While - SamxReader

Summary: You had a really, really bad day. Sam takes care of you the way nobody else will when you can’t stop thinking and everything’s a little too much. (basically a bucket-ton of fluff and niceness)

Words: 3,248

Notes: i wrote this the other day when i felt super duper shitty and welp i accidentally wrote 3k words of sam taking care of reader. i didnt know if i was gonna post it but the wonderful @rayesgamingtrash needed some entertainment so here ya go. hope it isn’t suuuper bad! this is my first ever reader fic, so feel free to give feed-back and whatnot! also its midnight and i only edited it now so brace yourself for mistakes galore. okie, hope you enjoy! (also im on mobile so no fancy italics and bolds and read mores)

-

It was so obvious that you’d been crying. It was impossibly obvious that you’d been bawling your eyes out in a bathroom stall. You’d tried to convince yourself that Sam was oblivious to tear-stained cheeks and sniffles, but he was better at reading you than you gave him credit for. It wasn’t like this was the first time you’d come home crying, and it was usually because of the same people.
Today had been hard, and you knew it would’ve gone 50 times smoother if you’d refused to go to dinner with your family. You would’ve been able to stay in bed late with Sam and then go on a walk, as planned. However, the guilt and anxiety had gotten to you and before you knew it you were asking them what time they planned to pick you up at. It had been fine for the first half an hour or so. Sure, you were feeling extremely anxious about the pale blue dress and heels you had been told to wear, but that happens all the time, so you’d gotten used to it. What sent you into a downward spiral was when your mother spoke about how she was tired no matter how many hours of sleep she got, and your Dad said “that’s called laziness”, and you almost broke right then and there. You could practically feel him staring at you. It only got worse from that moment. Everybody was giving you these strange looks as you ate in the restaurant, as you hadn’t been to a family meal in months and you’d flipped out in front of quite a few people when it was brought up in conversation. Your father got angry every time you didn’t participate in conversation and then got angry when you did, which was something you’d never understand. He treated you like a child, telling you to eat, to not make a mess, to stop being so moody, to “act happy for once”. Then, your mother brought up relationships, and made some rude side-comment about Sam and you dropped your fork in shock and anger. You retreated to your 13 and 14 year old cousins at the other side of the table from that point, who were able to cheer you up slightly. They were playing on their Nintendo DS’s and found joy in watching you play.
Once dinner was over you made sure to state loud and clear that Sam was picking you up, just loud enough for your mother to hear, but just quiet enough to keep your voice from cracking in slight fear. Your family drove off - not until after your cousins tackled you with hugs, which almost turned the day around - and you hurried into the bathroom, locking yourself in a stall, only realizing then that you didn’t plan to have Sam pick you up and didn’t want him to, either. You couldn’t stop thinking about how pathetic you were. You didn’t even have the guts to admit that you felt especially shitty today to Sam, one of the only people you trust with your life. The thoughts showed their ugly faces, and even though these thoughts were a common occurrence, they never hurt less.
After half an hour, you emerged from the bathroom and started the 25-minute walk from the restaurant to your apartment, holding your heels in your hand.
-
The clock in the lobby read 9:03pm and you cursed to yourself, wishing that it was later so that Sam might be asleep and you wouldn’t have to face him. You trudged up the stairs, constantly rubbing at your eyes and scratching at your wrists and the backs of your hands. You shakily grabbed your keys from a pocket on your dress and opened the door as quietly as you could. You only opened it slightly, just enough for you to slip through. You carefully placed your heels next to the door, next to Sam’s worn-out boots, and looked around. The TV was off and thankfully Sam wasn’t waiting for you. You were about to fall onto the couch when your phone buzzed in your pocket.
’(Y/N), I plan on getting to meet this “Sam” figure soon in the future. I feel like I need to, based on what your mother has been telling me. Your mother and I also plan on talking to you about your behavior today. You were in such an awful mood and you ruined the entire day for all of us. You need to tell us what’s wrong with you, because from I can see you just refuse to co-operate with anything and love ruining happy occasions. Will talk to you again soon. Dad.’
At this point, all you could hear was static. Your phone slipped from your hand and clattered to the floor, probably smashing or cracking in the process. You felt a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes, and you just couldn’t do it anymore. The thoughts came back again. Worthless. Stupid. Unneeded. Weak. Useless. You could die and nobody would care. You’d be doing everyone a favour if you just dropped dead. You wouldn’t ruin your parents lives, Sam would have somebody better, who treats him like he deserves to be treated. You’re a fucking waste of space. They all wanted to know what was wrong, but didn’t they think you’d try and tell somebody if you knew?
You were subconsciously running to the bathroom. A door somewhere else in the apartment opened.
Your hand covered your mouth and tears ran down your cheeks as you coughed out sobs. You slammed the bathroom door shut but didn’t dare lock it in case you lacked the energy to unlock it again. You glanced at yourself in the mirror and pulled at your hair, ruining the curls you’d spent an hour getting right. You heard Sam, calling out, calling your name, but you didn’t have the energy to tell him to leave you alone.
You leaned against the wall across from the sink, collapsing down against it, trying to stop yourself from coughing and crying. Sam doesn’t deserve this burden. Sam could be off in a fancy city in a fancy apartment, snuggled up on the couch with a girl with a small waist and big boobs and a thigh gap and a nice ass and perfect hair and beautiful eyes and straight teeth and-
All in all, he could be snuggling with anybody but you.
And so came the age-old question: why the fuck did Samuel Drake chose you?
-
You didn’t know how long you’d been sitting there when the bathroom door clicked open. It was probably mere seconds, maybe a few minutes if Sam had looked for and checked your phone. All you knew was that your dress was drenched with water and your throat and eyes hurt. You didn’t dare look up. You didn’t want to see the disappointment covering Sam’s face. You simply rubbed your eyes again and again, as if you wanted to disguise how you felt.
You felt hands cup your cheeks and taking one look at Sam made you start crying all over again. He didn’t look disappointed, he just looked sad. You couldn’t keep eye contact and as soon as tears left your eyes, Sam brought you toward him and you wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He ran his hand gently through your hair. It was so quiet, but you didn’t mind, because Sam’s steady breathing cancelled out your crying. Sam slipped his hands under your thighs and you felt him pick you up, carrying you out of the bathroom.
‘Couch or bed?’ Sam said gently.
'Couch,’ you mumbled against the fabric of his t-shirt, your voice just a whisper, cracking and wavering. He moved over to the couch and laid you down onto it, placing a pillow under your head. Sam sat on his knees in front of you,  gently pushing your hair out of your eyes, studying your face.
'Do you want to talk about it?’ Sam whispered, running one hand through your hair and cupping your cheek with the other.
You really wanted to tell Sam what happened, but you wouldn’t be able to do it without tearing up all over again. You saw your phone on the coffee table, screen cracked, and you assumed Sam has read the texts. You wished the phone would’ve just snapped in half so the message would be lost forever.
So, unable to tell Sam that you didn’t want to talk about anything for a while, you just shook your head, and Sam just smiled. God, you were so lucky to have him.
'I’ll go order some takeout, okay? I’ll be back before you know it,’ Sam assured you, leaning down and kissing you on the forehead, brushing your hair out of the way. You didn’t take your eyes off Sam as he hurried into the bedroom, snatching his phone from the bedside table.
'Hi, uh, one box of salt and pepper chicken, one box of egg-fried rice, a lemonade and a strawberry milkshake, please.’ Sam peeked out from the bedroom and looked straight at you, giving you a smile that said “everything’s going to be okay”. He must’ve only noticed your tear-stained dress then, because he spun around and rooted in your dresser, taking out the fluffiest and comfiest pyjamas you owned. He grabbed a pair of clean socks and a hair brush for good measure.
'Yup, Sam Drake. You guys have my address, I think. That’s awesome, thank you. Okay, bye.’
You tossed his phone onto the bed and immediately returned to your side.
'Do you want to change?’ Sam asked. You nodded and pushed yourself up into sitting position. You fumbled and fidgeted with the zip on your dress, feeling too weak to actually pull it down.
'Want me to do it?’ Sam said,  placing your change of clothes onto the floor beside him. It astounded you sometimes how the simplest of actions made you feel so much better. You nodded meekly and Sam scooted closer to you. You held your arms up to let Sam unzip the dress at the sides. He handed you the pyjama bottoms and you placed them gently beside you.
Standing up, Sam grabbed the bottom of your dress and lifted it up over your head, wrapping it up in a bundle. He took the pyjama top in his hands and pulled it down over you, dropping back to his knees as you managed to put on the pyjama pants, which was a miracle in itself.  
You scooted along the couch a bit and patted the space behind you, looking down at Sam. He pushed himself up and onto the couch, stretching out his legs on either side of you, allowing you to lie back against his chest. He handed you the socks and you pulled them on as he took the hairbrush in his hand. He pulled the brush through your hair as gently as he could, as if you were a fragile artifact.
Once you were fully dressed, you simply laid against his chest as he brushed your hair. After twenty minutes of you two simply sitting there, the doorbell rang. Sam took your hand and brought it up to his mouth, planting a gentle kiss against your skin before slowly rising from the couch.
You turned slightly to watch Sam grab money from his wallet and open the front door. He handed the woman the money due and took the food in his arms, closing the door with his foot before making his way back over to you. He laid the boxes and bags out across the coffee table.
'Which do you want first?’ You had gotten used to being silent, so when Sam asked what you wanted, you simply pointed to the labels.
Sam grabbed the egg-fried rice for you and he grabbed salt and pepper chicken for himself. He fell down onto the couch and wrapped his legs around you again, handing you your box.
'If you want me to help- No, not help, just if you can’t manage-’ Sam spluttered, and you felt your heart swell. You knew Sam was being picky with his wording because he didn’t want to make you feel weak or incapable.
To let him know you understood, you settled in his lap and tilted your head back toward him, giving the biggest attempt you could at a smile. You opened your rice with shaky hands, grabbing the fork that came with it. You would’ve liked nothing more than for Sam to help you again, but knowing him, this was probably his first proper meal since breakfast. You both tucked into your food. Sam finished his in about 10 minutes while you were pushing yours around with your fork. Sam noticed this, of course, and rested his chin on your shoulder. 'Not hungry?’
You just shrugged. In all honesty, you hadn’t really touched your food at the restaurant, and you weren’t exactly hungry now.
'I dunno,’ you mumbled. It hurt to talk.
'When was the last time you actually ate?’ Sam said, planting a kiss on your shoulder.
You put down your rice box and fiddled with your hands. 'Breakfast, I think.’
'I’ll just put your food in the fridge, and I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow morning. How does that sound, sweetheart?’
You nodded as Sam rubbed your arms gently, warming you up. You could barely speak at normal volume and you weren’t that bothered to try. 'Sounds good.’
It was silent for a little while. Sam was rubbing your arms and then reaching down and holding your hands. With nothing to do, the thoughts came back, and you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about the day’s events, and you couldn’t keep your mouth shut any longer.
'Sam?’ you mumbled, breaking the silence. 'Why did you choose me?’
Sam was silent for a second. He’d stopped rubbing your hands with his thumbs and you felt anxiety creeping up on you again. 'Choose you for what, (Y/N)?’
You sighed and pulled your hands away from his, subconsciously scratching them again. Sam was looking straight at you but you didn’t dare look at him. 'You…You could be anywhere else, with a beautiful, smart, funny and confident girl, who is equal to you, who treats you like you deserve to be treated. I-I just don’t get what you saw in me, I don’t know why you stick around. All I see is that I’m…stupid and worthless and I could…I could just drop off the face of the earth and nobody would care at all-’
Shit. Shit, you said it. You should’ve just stopped talking, now Sam’s going to get freaked out and he’s going to up and leave you like everyone else did-
'Hey, hey, (Y/N), look at me, okay?’
Sam’s voice was soothing and you turned around to face him properly for the first time that evening. He was wearing a dark red button-up and pyjama pants. His hair was a little all over the place, and he looked calm. He was calmer now than you’d been in a long time, and you envied him for it. You tried to keep eye contact but you kept looking down into your lap.
Sam slowly tilted your chin up with his index finger, and you tried your hardest to look him in the eyes.
’(Y/N), I know that none of this will be easy, and that it isn’t something that can just go away, but I’ll be here for you and I’m not going anywhere. You’re perfect for me. You’re way more than I deserve and I love you so, so much, okay?’
You could feel your heart breaking, because as much as you wanted to believe what Sam was saying, you just couldn’t stop yourself from thinking he was lying. From early on in life you’d convinced yourself that compliments are lies, and that people don’t mean what they say. You didn’t know why. It just happened.
But then you thought about all the wonderful memories you had of you and Sam, and the amount of times he’d told you he’d never leave your side, and how he took such good care of you when you couldn’t have felt worse, and how almost every morning he calls you beautiful, and you just completely broke.
You fell against his chest with a thud and wrapped your arms around him as tightly as you could, your ear over his heart as you shut your eyes and felt tears stain your cheeks again. Sam reacted almost immediately, pulling you against his chest, smoothing your hair with one hand while rubbing your back with the other.
'It’s okay, I’m here,’ Sam assured you, not letting go until you did. He twirled your hair in his fingers, wiped away your tears, caressed your face, and ran his hands down your arms while whispering what he loved about you, until you looked up at him and gave him an oh-so-weak smile that assured him that he had done something right that night.
You leaned against his chest but didn’t cry anymore; you didn’t need to, because Sam’s gentle touches and loving words outweighed any negative thought you had previously tried to burn to the ground. You wondered for a bit how different your life would’ve been if Sam had appeared when you were younger and had been able to outweigh the bad thoughts then, but when Sam spoke you forgot what you were thinking about and focused entirely on him.
'Hey, did I ever tell you about the time me and Nathan almost got arrested for sneaking onto a boat?’
You surprised yourself by chuckling. It was weak and shaky, but it was there. The sound seemed so foreign, even though you remembered falling against the kitchen counter laughing yesterday morning with Sam, after he spent 30 minutes making pancakes only to drop them on the floor. 'Uh…No? How exactly-’
'Okay, okay, so - We were both kinda drunk, and we were walking along the dock of this gorgeous town in…doesn’t matter where it was, I forget. Anyway, we’re walking along and apparently there’s some history festival going on in town and what do I see in the dock? A pirate ship! A frickin pirate- and yeah, it was obviously made for the event, and it’s ten times smaller than any of the real ones, but it was still there! And of course I go cuckoo for a bit until Nathan starts to climb on board - and this thing didn’t look that sturdy! But I said, y'know what, screw it, and I followed him on board. We both lost our minds for a while and Nathan had to stop me from singing some sea shanties, but here we were, and Nathan was threatening to pull out of the dock…’
Soon after, Sam paused, hearing your steady breathing against his chest, arms still wrapped around him. He chuckled, brushing your hair back from your face, planning to ask you in the morning if his stories were that boring. He spread out on the couch and held you against his chest, as the couch was just big enough for you both. Soon after that he closed his eyes and slept, your smile and his love for you filling his mind, and his caring nature, gentle touches and loving words filling yours.

Story Time: While you were Sleeping AU

When Obi-wan moved to Coruscant his head was filled of dreams of becoming someone and doing something with his life. The only thing he ended up doing was getting a dead-end job that even a droid could do. Day after day he sold tickets to Twi’leks, Humans, Rodians; you name it and he had seen ‘em. All of whom were headed off of the polluted and crowded planet that he had once so admired.  The only highlight of his day, was when he showed up.

Obi-wan wasn’t exactly sure what his name was. Or even what he did, but he could only imagine it was important and probably something noble as well. One of these days he was going to actually ask. Except the only thing that ever came out of his mouth was the same spiel he gave every customer. Still Obi-wan enjoyed imagining what the man was up to next from where he was flying. Once it was all the way to Tatooine! Some backwater on the outer rim that Obi-wan had never even heard of before. Other times it was something more normal like Alderaan. Considering his daydreams were one of the only things that kept Obi-wan going, maybe it was a good thing that he knew next to nothing about the tall stranger.

Of course, no matter what kind of crazy stories Obi-wan might have come up with, he never actually believed any of them. He was curious of course, but really all he knew was that the man traveled far more than any other being Obi-wan had ever met and that he had a kind smile. So when one day after Obi-wan once again failed to ask the stranger’s name, Obi-wan could hardly believe his eyes as the man stepped away only to be met by a bounty hunter’s gun.

The altercation was short.

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some quick (and late) tianshan christmas headcanons!! (this didn’t end up being like i wanted it to, but im just happy i managed to finish it tbh. i also have a half-finished post with more general headcanons, and it would have probably been better if i finished those, but im kinda fond of this scenario, so yeah, hope you’ll enjoy it too!!)

  • okay, so, imagine guan shan learning he tian is going to be alone on christmas and asking him if he would like to spend it with himself and his mom before he even realises it
  • any other time guan shan would have probably felt a deep satisfaction for the way he tian’s eyes grow wide, mouth slightly open in utter surprise, but he’s too busy blushing bright red as he registers what he just said to notice it
  • and they’re still far from being in a relationship yet, but he tian has accepted his own feelings a long time ago, and even if guan shan is confused about his own, he still can feel something between them
  • so as christmas approaches they both become really nervous, he tian because he is afraid to ruin everything and just wants to make a good impression on guan shan’s mom, guan shan because he isn’t sure what all this means

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I Ruined the Moment, Didn’t I? (Tony Stark x reader)

Request: Hello, sweetheart. First of all, I want to send you my love~ my request is Tony x reader “just kiss already” scenario when they’re so sweet together that everybody want to puke

“Hey, Rogers!  Any chance you were gonna give (Y/N) some backup over here?”  Tony called out, flying overhead to see you taking on four HYDRA guards alone, swooping down quickly to grab you around your waist and lift you to safety.

“I had that,” you huffed.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he laughed, “but I couldn’t turn down an opportunity to look like a hero, now could I?”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), I couldn’t get there,” Steve interrupted over the comm.  “I was a little busy.”

“It’s all good, Cap,” you replied.  You weren’t upset at all, and thought that you were holding your own fairly well while you waited for him, but Tony clearly had other ideas.  “Oh well, how often can a girl live a dream come true? Being swept off her feet by a knight in real shining armor?”

You could hear an uncomfortable cough from Tony behind the mask and his flight wavered ever so slightly. “Dream come true, huh?  Glad I could be of service, my princess.”

“Are they flirting again?” Clint groaned.  

“Yeah, I’m definitely feeling nauseated,” Bruce joined in, “must be flirting.”

“I think it’s cute,” Natasha added, “and quite entertaining.”

“Well I think you’re wrong.”

“I don’t believe that a battle is the most ideal situation to begin courting.”

“See?  Thor gets it!” Clint scoffed, “I don’t know why they don’t get it.”

“We are not flirting! Maybe Clint doesn’t get enough attention, is that it?” you snapped back.  Landing on your feet next to Tony as he sat you down, you slipped slightly when he lost his grip and you began to fall back.  His arm quickly wrapped around you again, now leaning over to hold you just off the ground.

“If you wanted to dance, honey, all you had to do was ask.”

~~~

A few hours after returning from the mission, and keeping completely to yourself for the entire flight home, you couldn’t sleep and thought that maybe working in the lab would wear you down.  You had originally been brought to the team to work with Tony directly on a project for Nick, but after living in the tower and working with the team for so long, you never found yourself able to leave.  So, Steve trained you, Tony gave you almost unlimited access to his systems, and you were turned into an Avenger.

During all that time it never occurred to you that maybe you were getting too close to Tony, or that he was feeling anything towards you.  The team joked that you were flirting, but maybe it wasn’t really a joke. You spent hours together everyday, so it just felt like a close friendship to you, and Tony certainly never brought it up.  Maybe it was up to you to do it, and maybe now was the time since he was just about to enter the lab.

“Hey, (Y/N), you realize that it’s 3am, right?”  

“Yep, but correct me if I’m wrong, you’re awake too.”  

A small but fatigued smile crossed his lips as he walked towards you, leaning down to rest both elbows on the table to watch intently as you worked.  It took a long time for him to trust you alone here, but that didn’t stop him from checking in now and again.  “Einstein slept three hours a year.”

“Yeah, you use that line way too much.  It’s not even true, Tony.”  

“Truth is a matter of circumstances,” he said with a long yawn, “it’s not all things to all people all the time.”

“Well now you just sound like Nat,” you scoffed, pausing to set your instruments down to look at him for the first time since he arrived.  “Do you even have anything original anymore?”

Tony pushed himself up from the table and crossed his arms over his chest, looking at you with wide eyes and feigning hurt.  “Wow, (Y/N). Painful.”  

You smirked and shook your head with a low chuckle, reaching down to start your work again when your hand slipped.  You dropped the item and jumped back, cursing under your breath as you squeezed the wound to stop the bleeding where you had just cut your finger.

“Dammit!”

“Hey, let me look,” Tony said as his demeanor completely changed to that of concern, taking your hand in his and holding pressure against it.  As he held it, neither of you said anything more, and you felt uncomfortable with him for the first time.  Now was definitely not the time to bring up the topic.  His thumb was rubbing the back of your hand slowly, and he wasn’t even looking at your injury anymore; he was looking at you.

“I think it’s okay,” you mumbled, looking back and unable to shift your gaze from him.  You tried to pull your hand away but he held it too firmly. “Seriously, Tony, I…I think it’s…okay.”

He sensed your uneasiness and gripped a little tighter, but all it did was make you more nervous and wanting to leave even faster.  “(Y/N)…”

“I have to go,” you blurted out, pulling your hand forcefully away.  He stood in place as you left him, not trying to stop you and not trying to follow.  He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say or do, but he knew that Clint had been on to something when he saw things going on between you both.        

~~~

“Tony, can you just pick the movie already?  We aren’t getting any younger here.”

Tony didn’t reply, not hearing Steve because he was lost in his own mind, staring at you with Natasha while you brought the snacks out to the common room for movie night.  He jumped up quickly to grab a large bowl of popcorn from your hands so that you didn’t struggle, even though you weren’t even close to having any problem.  

“Thanks, Tony,” you said with a smile, “but I’ve got it.  You had better go pick the movie before we end up with some old black and white thing that Steve picks out.”

“I think tonight we should let (Y/N) choose what we watch,” he announced to the group.  

You stopped in your tracks and looked at everyone, shocked by this, “but you always pick for movie night. No one has had a say in what we watch in…well, ever.”

“I think maybe that should change, don’t you?  I’ve been selfish, and to prove my good intent, I would like you to choose, (Y/N).”

Clint leaned in close to Bruce with a smirk and pointed at the two of you, shaking his head.  “I told ya,” he whispered, “Tony wants.  Any bet on if he gets?”

“Not a chance.  He always gets.”

“I don’t know,” Clint sighed, “this one could be a challenge.”

Bruce laughed quietly, but with a grin so large that you noticed and gave him an inquisitive look.  “Oh, then he’s definitely gonna get.”

With a shrug you agreed to go along with it and had JARVIS cue up your favorite movie.  The team took their seats almost as if they were very purposeful in their choices; the only open seat left was next to Tony. Dropping yourself down next to him, you leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder and pulled a blanket up over the two of you.  You felt his muscles tighten and he looked almost uncomfortable.

“Hey, is this okay?” you asked quietly under your breath.

“Yeah…yeah…it’s fine,” he stammered, “I just wasn’t sure if you would want to be anywhere near me, after…that thing yesterday…in the lab…”

“Anthony Stark, are you nervous around me?”

He put his arm around you and pulled you closer, grabbing a handful of popcorn to throw in his mouth, “sweetheart, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  His glance shot towards Bruce, who wasn’t even watching the movie; he was watching something much more entertaining in what you were doing to his friend.  “Shut up,” he silently mouthed to Bruce, returning his attention to the screen.

About half way into the movie you felt your eyelids grow heavy, still leaning against Tony.  You pulled your body in closer and wrapped your arm around his waist to hold yourself steady.  “I might fall asleep on you,” you whispered, “I’ll apologize now.”

“No apology needed,” he replied, bringing his hand up behind you to rest on your head, now gently stroking your hair, only making you more tired from it’s relaxing effects.  He turned for a small kiss on your head then tilted his own to rest against you.  “I just might join you.”

Now the attention of the entire team had turned to you both, with the help of Clint and Bruce pointing out what you were doing.  Steve smirked and tried to get them to stop staring, but he himself couldn’t even pull his gaze away.  “Hey, guys,” he called to you, “if you two could just do this already, we could maybe get back to movie night.”

“Do what?” you murmured lazily in your half-asleep state, your eyes now closed with little hope of reopening.

“I think they mean this,” Tony whispered as he leaned down to kiss you, pressing you back against the couch with one hand still behind you and the other caressing your cheek.  When he pulled back, he looked at you with a hint of fear in his eyes, not knowing if you would accept it or push him away for good.  “At least, I hope that’s what they meant,” he smirked, leaning in again when you didn’t stop him.

“That’s what we meant!” Clint and Bruce replied in unison, looking completely satisfied in their first work as partners in mischief.  “We could see it clear as day, I don’t know why they didn’t see it,” Clint laughed, standing to grab the bowl of popcorn from your table.  “I’ll just take this.  It doesn’t look like you guys will be needing this anytime soon.”  

littleshrews  asked:

Hi! Can i give you a Percabeth prompt? My wisdom tooth was removed yesterday after a 3 hour surgery (a rebel one) and my boyfriend is out of town( I told him but I didn't want to worry him) and I missed so much that I cried and slept on the couch while i was trying to distract myself from the drugs and pain reading. Can you write a one shot when Annabeth has this surgery, falls asleep on the couch and Percy finds her? Pleaase! need Percabeth fluff

I can write ya a drabble, sweetheart. Hope you start feeling better soon! xoxo

Percy flung the door open, rushing into the kitchen to find his mom reading from her journal and sipping a cup of tea. She looked up at him with raised eyebrows, probably wondering why he looked like he was about to have a heart attack. 

“Annabeth had to have surgery this morning,” he blurted out. “It was just supposed to be a check up, but they decided to go ahead and do it because you know how much she hates to go to the dentist and they didn’t have another appointment for a few weeks and–”

“Calm down, Percy,” his mom chided. “Is she alright?”

“I don’t–I’ve been getting random texts with gibberish from her so I guess so, but–”

“Just go over and check on her then, sweetheart. Wisdom teeth removal isn’t a bad surgery for most people. She’s probably fine.”

Percy nodded, turning back on his heels and racing outside to his car. His mom would probably yell at him later for driving so fast, but he needed to check on Annabeth now. 

She had gone to the dentist first thing this morning, and when Percy had checked his phone during lunch, he had a text from her dad that said she had already had the surgery they were planning and that she wouldn’t be at school for a few days. Of course, her dad had also asked Percy to go by and check on her later this afternoon because he had an important meeting to go to. Percy tried not to feel frustrated at that because Annabeth’s dad had really been doing better, and his job was very demanding. But the protective boyfriend role in Percy wanted to punch Dr. Chase in the nose every time he ditched Annabeth for work. 

Once Percy made it to Annabeth’s house, he jumped out of the car and used the key under the mat to get inside, closing it behind him and heading for the stairs. 

He stopped when he heard a sigh. 

Percy turned back toward the living room, walking up behind the couch and peering down onto it. 

A smile crept onto his face when he saw her curled up in her light blue comforter, face resting on a pillow. For her to always make fun of him drooling, she would be horrified to the puddle on her pillow right now. 

He stepped around the couch, crouching down in front of it and reaching up to set his hand on her side. After a few seconds. she blinked her eyes open at him, and Percy frowned when he saw how tired she looked. 

“Hi,” she slurred, cheeks and lips puffy and red. “’M don’t feel good.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy said, using his other hand to brush some of her hair away from her face. “What can I do?”

She shrugged, saying something unintelligible into her pillow. 

Percy sighed, hating that she felt so bad. He picked her up carefully, sitting down onto the couch and pulling her back into his lap so her head was resting against his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair like she liked when she was stressed, and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. 

Annabeth hummed, “’Hank you. I ‘wuv you.”

Percy grinned softly, “I love you too, Annabeth. Get some rest.”

Help for the Blind

A/N: Here you go! This was very different than what I normally write so I am pretty happy with how this turned out. Feedback is greatly accepted. <3 

Request: Can you do an imagine where the readers daughter (13yrs) goes to help Sam hunt and gets hit with a spell that makes her blind for 3 days please?

Warnings: Blindness, cursing, witches, angst, a teensy little fluff, switches between P.O.V.’s, witchcraft.

Pairings: No Pairing.

Word Count: 2,734


Originally posted by sam-and-dean-winchesters

Originally posted by green-circles



“Pistol?”

“Check.”

“Knife?”

“Check, freshly sharpened.”

“Shotgun?” 

“Mom, I have everything, don’t worry, besides Sam will be there, its not like I’m going by myself.” Your daughter explained.

“I know, it’s just I don’t want you to get hurt, or worse.” You said, shuttering at the thought of what horrible things could happen.

“I’ll be fine, I love you, mom.” Your daughter, Marissa hugged you walking off to put her bags in the car.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi! If you ever have any free time, can I request a prompt from you? Some small Stanley and Ma Pines bonding? Stanley is sick and his mom is taking care of him. "I can't believe I got sick before Ford." "What I can't believe is you're actually sick" "If you didn't believe I was sick then why did you pick me up from school?" "Eh, I didn't have anything better to do." And they watch tv and he falls asleep.

This answer was not meant to be more than a few lines, but that’s what happens when I spend the weekend watching the Star Trek: TOS marathon. Anyway, bless this trash mom and her trash son, I love a lot, bye.


“Alright, somebody better quick explain why I was dragged away from work,” Mrs. Pines strutted into the principal’s office, hands strung loosely over her hips, heels clicking furiously against the tile. “I gotta be home before Mrs. Proffitt finishes her spiel, so that gives us, oh, forty minutes tops.”

From where he sat, miserable and hunched, Stan’s headache increased tenfold. Great, now he was in for it. Across from him, Principal Burbridge – a squat man with bushy sideburns, who obviously had it out for Stan – seemed to relish in his despair.

“Mrs. Pines, please take a seat. This shouldn’t take long,” he said smoothly. Mrs. Pines marched up to his desk but didn’t sit, instead gazing down at her son in exasperation.

“What did you do?” she demanded, as if reading from a practiced script.

Before Stan could get a word in edgewise, the principal crashed through his defense with the single accusation, “Your son claims to be ill.”

Unruffled, Mrs. Pines’ eyebrow lifted a fraction of an inch. “Claims?” she said anticlimactically. It definitely wasn’t the worst charges brought against Stan in his five years of schooling.

“Stanley has visited the nurse four times this month alone, complaining of temporary deafness, mathematical amnesia, and most notably, the plague.” The principal’s brow rose sharply. “And let’s not forget the incident with the fake vomit.”

That the cafeteria’s chowder made for a believable puke substitute should be the thing currently under fire, Stan thought ruefully.

Rolling her eyes, Ma Pines eyed her son discerningly, watching him quell under her glare. Whatever she saw, however, stunted her growing irritation; she brushed the back of her hand over his forehead, frowning at the heat.

“Did you take his temperature?” she asked the principal, flatly. “Because he feels warm. Really warm.”

Keep reading

Not His Fault

Marichat May Day 1 - Cat Tendencies

Weeeeeeeee I’m gonna try to participate in Marichat May! ;u;; I’ll probably be late on everything. Or not, since my last day of school for the semester is tomorrow :’) ANYWAYS! To take my mind off school, I tried to go fluffy. It would have been super easy to angst but I think I’ve pushed out way too much of that recently lmao


It wasn’t his fault.

It wasn’t his fault that he wound up at his classmate’s house long after Paris slept. It wasn’t his fault that she was kind to him, if somewhat odd for mimicking him when she thought he wasn’t looking. It wasn’t his fault that when his stomach growled once, she decided to give him some leftovers then and almost every visit after. It wasn’t his fault that when a stray gets fed, it keeps coming back in the hopes of more.

It wasn’t his fault at all.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. It was definitely the cat in him. Because why else was Chat Noir, superhero of Paris, opening a hatch he knew was unlocked just for him? Trying not to think about it, he hopped down to her bed, gently landing on his feet as a cat should. He looked over the railing and, to his surprise, saw no Marinette in sight. Her chaise was abandoned, her designs put away, and her computer was asleep- asleep! He hastily looked behind him, having honestly not thought to look at the bed before jumping down. There, under her pink covers and practically buried beneath pillows, was Marinette. Or, well, a vaguely Marinette-shaped lump.

Nudging carefully, he tried to wake her.

“Princess. Princess. Princess. Princess,” he mewled over and over. “Mari. Mari. Mari. Marinette. Princess. Mari. Mar-bear. Princess. Princess.”

Not receiving any reaction from her, Chat sighed and sat on his haunches. It wasn’t his fault he was being annoying and, perhaps, rude. He was hungry and craved attention; an all-day photoshoot had kept him from school, and while the attention had been focused on him, it was the wrong kind. It was mechanical, and he wanted the genuine attention that came from a certain Marinette Dupain-Cheng. That wasn’t too much to ask for, was it?

Surely she’d understand. That’s what he thought, anyways, when his head began to butt against hers. Unfortunately for him, that only managed to make her worm further underneath her covers and pillows. Getting impatient, and perhaps against better judgement, he pulled her from under her pillows, got close to her ear, and yowled, “Princess!” 

As it turned out, he really shouldn’t have done that, because while one second he was waiting for her to wake up, the next second he felt her elbow slamming into his cheek accompanied by a shriek. Shocked and in pain, he hopped down to the room below them and rubbed his face. Chat knew not getting attention could be very painful, but who knew receiving some could hurt so badly? His tail lashed behind him and his ears flattened as he winced. That would definitely bruise later.

Up in her bed, Marinette tried to calm her breathing. The word the stranger had whispered to her assured her that he wasn’t actually a stranger. Too bad the thought hadn’t registered before she nailed him in the face. Rolling over to the rail, she looked over and saw him, a look of regret on her face.

“I’m sorry, Kitty, you scared me,” she told him. The scowl and small hiss she got in return was response enough. Reaching beside her, she took a small container from the shelf above her pillows and held it over the edge. “Come on, kitty, kitty, don’t be like that! Look what I’ve got for you!” She shook the container until he finally looked up at her, smiling when he did. When he started walking back up, she laughed and said, “That’s it, that’s my good chaton!” 

Once he was up the stairs, he eyed her warily. It wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t deny her his presence nor could he deny the treats she had for him.

He padded right up next to her but refused to sit until she opened the lid container, allowing him access to its contents. That, combined with the very welcoming scent and posture of Marinette, broke his cattitude. He sat down right next to his princess and smiled. It was in no way his fault that this girl had become his safety net. His home.

“Thank you very much, Princess!” he said, grinning ear to ear when she handed him the box of goodies. She giggled a bit when he immediately entangled his hands with twine, and to be honest, Chat thought her laugh sounded better than the twine felt. He didn’t comment on it though, not that he could with his concentration set on freeing himself, but he certainly thought it. It wasn’t even the first time he thought it. After all, when he’s around as often as he was, he found it impossible not to get caught on her laughter. The way it sounded, how it created a comforting warmness in his chest, the way her eyes crinkled… It was alluring and enthralling, to say the least.

Thinking of that, he almost missed it when her head fell into place at his shoulder and her hand found its way to his hair. He tried to keep the purring down, but it really was an overpowering force when he was Chat Noir, so no less than half a minute later, the only sound in the room was his purring. Every time he glanced over at her, he’d find her either watching him or falling asleep. It wasn’t his fault that with each glance, his heartbeat increased or even skipped a beat.

It wasn’t his fault that his face was painted scarlet by the time she fell asleep on him.

Smiling down at her, he repositioned her so that she would be laying down. He laid back too then, still messing with all the trinkets she’d tempted him with. He might not have gotten any food this time around, not that he could blame her for that, he’d come at an ungodly hour, but food or not, he’d come as long as she allowed him to, really. And that was his fault, he realized, because somewhere down the line, he’d gotten close. He’d gotten close to a civilian he had no right getting close to, as Chat Noir, and they walked hand in hand into love. There was no epiphany of it. There was no magical kiss of true love that sealed their feelings for each other. No, it had taken work. It has taken time and care and respect. And while Chat decided it was his fault it had happened in the first place, he was glad for it. Nuzzling against her, he continued to purr, interrupting it only to say, “Sweet dreams, Purrincess.” He fell asleep shortly thereafter, both content with how their relationship had gone. Both laying next to the ones they trusted most in the world.

It wasn’t his fault that that night, he had the best sleep he’s had in years.

GMPR fanfic
  • At the same time when Farkle goes trough Riley's window and talks to her. Maya taps on Lucas' window and he lets her in
  • Maya: Hi Loser
  • Lucas: Hi
  • Maya: That's it? No comebacks?
  • Lucas: I'm sorry I'm a Loser
  • Maya: You're not a loser.
  • Lucas: yes I am. I failed. I didn't made the team.
  • Maya: That doesn't make you a loser. Yo can try again next semester. We'll work on it.
  • Lucas: You don't understand. I failed!
  • Maya: Huckleberry, if I tell you the amount of times I've failed at something we wouldn't finish today... Or even this week...
  • Lucas: And how do you do it?
  • Maya: Do what?
  • Lucas: Be all cool and awesome?
  • Maya: Because I know that every time I fail, my friends are there to help me get better.
  • Lucas: Thanks Maya. This means a lot.
  • Maya: Besides, if you don't get better at football, you can always try out for cheerleading.
  • Lucas: Now you are just making fun of me
  • Maya: Come on, let me enjoy for once that I'm better than everyone else at something.
  • Lucas: You are better than everyone else here Maya.
  • Maya: Now YOU are making fun of me
  • Lucas: I'm not... I'm serious
  • Maya: Name one thing I'm better than you
  • Lucas: Name calling
  • Maya: that doesn't count
  • Lucas: it does. It takes being creative, smart and the timing has to be perfect, and you just are.
  • Maya: Awww Now you are making me blush
  • Lucas: Now is your turn
  • Maya: For what?
  • Lucas: Say something nice about me
  • Maya: Lets see. You are tall
  • Lucas: that's it?... That's like saying you are short
  • Maya: wow... That was mean...
  • Lucas: is not mean, or nice... Is just an adjetive to describe someone's hight...
  • Maya: well that's all you're gonna get from me... Tall freak. Good bye!
  • Maya turns to leave but just as she touches the window sill Lucas reaches and grabs her hand.
  • Lucas: you leaving already? Don't be mad, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. You are not short, your hight is perfect... You are perfect
  • Maya: ok fine. I'll stay, just for a little while. And only cus you are needy right now.
  • Lucas: thanks, you are always so caring
  • Maya: see, that's mean. You know Riley is the caring one. Not me. I couldn't care less.
  • Lucas: yeah, that's why you're here, in my room at night...
  • Maya: No, I'm here cus.... Cus Riley is dealing with her own spanish failure...
  • Lucas: so you are just filling in?
  • Maya: yeah... Like a temporary job.
  • Lucas: Ok. So as a fill in Riley your job is to make me feel better?
  • Maya: Now you are getting it Cowboy
  • Lucas: So, she sent you?
  • Maya: You could say so... Yeah
  • Lucas: Ok... So...
  • Maya: So?
  • Lucas: I'm waiting
  • Maya: for what?
  • Lucas: My confidence boost...
  • Maya: oh... Mhmhmh.... (Makes a fake Riley voice) "Lucas, you are great. You are so awesome and you are gonna be a veterinarian! You rode a bull, for like 4 seconds, but you did and that means you can do anything cus you're my hero!"
  • Lucas: Ok that sounded fake, even if you weren't trying to sound like Riley
  • Maya: Well, I'm not Riley. I'm not good at being Riley.
  • Lucas: Then you should try it as yourself.
  • Maya: what?
  • Lucas: you heard me, tell me something YOU would tell me.
  • Maya: Ok.... Huckleberry, you are a strong-
  • Lucas: mh mh
  • Maya: A VERY strong man, who cares for his friends and always finds the way to do good for them. You always smell nice, and you have the most ridiculously handsome face I've ever seen. When you smile it makes my heart beat like a million times a second and it breaks my heart to see you beaten down.
  • Lucas: thank you. That was beautiful.
  • Maya: You'll rise up from this Huckleberry. Just be patient and work hard. You'll be stronger and faster next semester.
  • Lucas: You are a good Riley you know.
  • Maya: Yeah... I learned from the best.
  • Lucas: Wait...
  • Maya: I have to go. Job's done.
  • Lucas: Maya?!
  • Maya: Bye Huckleberry
  • Maya jumps outside of the window and leaves.
  • She's confused. She's gladd Lucas is feeling better, but she's sad.
  • Why did she lied to him? Why make him think she doesn't care and Riley sent her. She came here on her own. Why did she had to lie. She walked home, slowly, kicking herself for being such an emotional trainrack. What's wrong with her? She flee from his room, she had too. She had just opened up her heart to him and all he could say was "you are a good riley" well she's the one who came up with the Fake Riley thing. So... It was tecnically her fault. She felt so stupid. Angry tears fell from her eyes as she was about to reach her home. She dried her eyes, greeted her mom, and went straight to her room.
  • She was just falling asleep when her phone buzzed with a text message, from him.
  • Lucas: I know Riley didn't sent you. I know you care about me. I just want to tell you that I care about you too. You might be a good Riley but you are an even better Maya. So, thank you so much for comming over, it meant a lot to me. I'll work harder and try again next semester, if you promess you'll be there cheering for me. Good night.
  • It took a while, but she couldn't keep herself from answering.
  • Maya: You will never see me cheer. But I wouldn't miss the oportunity of watching you on the field. Good night.

anonymous asked:

What if Fushimi got hit by a strains power that made him a few centimeters tall.

He would be so adorable and palm-sized. He gets hit by the Strain’s power and immediately vanishes and everyone freaks out because the Strain made Fushimi-san disappear, and that’s when someone notices the angry squeaking sound coming from by their feet. Even better if it shrinks just Fushimi and not his clothes so there’s a bitty naked Fushimi sitting in a pile of his clothing looking extremely pissed off. He kinda wraps himself in his shirt like a dress as he gets picked up by one of the Scepter 4 boys and they’re all suddenly interested in staring at their cute little boss. Someone has the presence of mind to run to a toy store and buy Fushimi a nice variety of doll outfits, most of which are super cute and of course Fushimi hates them. When they get back to Scepter 4 headquarters Munakata praises their quick thinking and then probably has too much fun playing dress-up with tiny irritated Fushimi. And Awashima is totally into it too because she likes cute things and now Fushimi is somehow suddenly more appealing because she can put little outfits on him. Fushimi just wonders if anyone else has any work to do or anything, can’t they just leave him alone.

Fushimi maybe briefly attempts work but he can only type by jumping from key to key on his computer and that gets old pretty quick. Munakata decides that Fushimi should take a break with him and Fushimi ends up just sulking in Munakata’s pocket while Munakata sits at his desk playing puzzles. Maybe he lets Fushimi help and Fushimi gets to walk around dragging pieces one by one into place while Munakata just observes him happily. Fushimi later ends up falling asleep on a stack of papers and even though those are important reports no one can bring themselves to move him, Munakata just lays a little handkerchief or something over him and lets him sleep. Also everyone’s a little worried about accidentally stepping on Fushimi or something (I imagine at one point Fushimi’s trying to do his work and Doumyoji argues that they can’t turn in reports to him, what if they accidentally squish him).

Later everyone goes out after the Strain again and Fushimi gets to ride in people’s pockets because he wants to get back to normal now please. Maybe he gets jostled in the Strain chasing though and falls out, hitting the ground and ending up a little disoriented because that’s a long fall for a tiny Fushimi. He ends up almost getting run over by Yata’s skateboard and tosses a bunch of teeny tiny knives at it, doing just enough damage to cause Yata to fall. Yata’s like what the hell was that and then he feels something sharp like a bug bite in his arm, looks down and sees another tiny knife. That’s when he notices travel-sized Fushimi standing there, looking suddenly a bit pale because okay Misaki’s a little bigger than he remembers. At first Yata’s all mocking him, like who’s the shorty now huh monkey and Fushimi’s all annoyed, but then maybe the crowd on the sidewalk is getting thicker and Fushimi almost gets stepped on a couple times and finally Yata has to scoop him up to rescue him. Fushimi’s yelling at Yata to put him down but Yata just tells him to shut up because he’s gonna get killed at this rate. Fushimi reluctantly lets Yata carry him and they end up Strain chasing with Fushimi clinging to Yata’s hat and looking a little ill, because Yata’s skateboarding is a little too fast for him at this size and hello sudden motion sickness.

anonymous asked:

Hey! I was wondering if you had any ftm Marius headcannons?

Okay, but how about canon era trans Marius?  Because I haven’t written anything canon era related in a while and I’m in the mood for it

Imagine a boy who’s called Marie Pontmercy who doesn’t have any word for what he is (and won’t, not a commonly recognized one at least, for almost a century and a half) and has to live in his grandfather’s house, being told to be a good girl, being forced into dresses, taught womanly arts, listening to his grandfather eventually start to speculate on potential marriage prospects for him.  The pronouns make him uncomfortable, like a hand dragged the wrong way up a cat’s back, and he was always getting in trouble with his tutors for leaving the E off the ends of adjectives he uses to describe himself.

(“It’s je suis égarée, Marie, with the extra E.  My girl, I don’t understand how you always manage to forget that!  A child can manage it, you simple creature, really,” his grandfather scolds him one day after reading the letter he’d been writing to his father. Ce que je suis est énervé, thinks Marius rebelliously to himself but adds the extra E on anyways, even if it always somehow just looks… wrong.)

Marius who once (at least once) had to spent almost an entire day trying not to cry after he got a new corset and saw what it did to his silhouette in the mirror, how much it pinched him in and accentuated his curves.  Marius who insists on wearing the most conservative, unfashionable gowns he can get away with because he can’t stand any of his cleavage showing at all.  Fortunately his grandfather isn’t super up on the nuances of current Parisian women’s fashion and so doesn’t question why Marius isn’t wearing sloping shoulders or such things.    

Marius who has a pair of his grandfather’s trousers, a shirt, and a cravat hidden at the very bottom of a drawer, beneath a couple of particularly awful lacy chemises that he never touches.  He would take a jacket too except he knows those will be missed.  So he waits for when his grandfather goes to spend time around the town before sneaking back up to his room, locking his bedroom door, and anxiously taking out the clothes, putting them on, and tying his hair tight behind his head.  All while checking over his shoulder the entire time, as if he expects his aunt to come swooping in at any moment. Despite the fear and shame attached to it, those are calming times, to look in the mirror and see something that looks at least somewhat right.  After a while he steals several more cravats and uses them to bind his breasts down so that when he puts on the shirt his chest looks nearly flat.

Imagine when he and Courfeyrac meet.  Courfeyrac is going on and on about how a pretty girl like him shouldn’t be out in the streets on her own, and how he would of course help any fair maiden in need, and about being a knight for the lovely damsel in distress – all meant to be harmless and fun, of course, but after everything, after finding out about his father and the fight with his grandfather and losing his home Marius just snaps.  And he screams at Courfeyrac that “I AM NOT A GIRL.” In that moment he isn’t even really sure what he means, he’s never been able to fully conceptualize this feeling, except he knows that it’s right. More right than the curve of his chest and the E’s that get attached to his descriptors.

So he just stands there in the streets, in this ugly, black dress that pinches in his waist and makes his  hips look huge which he just hates, waiting for this kind stranger to laugh or scorn or point out the fact that he has breasts, right there, they’re very prominent.  You’re obviously a girl.

Except Courfeyrac doesn’t do that.  He considers this person in front of him and he doesn’t really get it but he finally says, “Okay.  My apologies.  What are you?”

“I… I’m a boy.  I’m a man.  I… I am.  I am.”

“Ah. Fair enough.  Then I suppose I can offer you the spare mattress in my own rooms if you like, without it being indecent.  Is your name really Marie then?”  After all, it’s not like Courfeyrac can make judgments about people altering their names to reflect who they are.

And on the spot Marius decides, no, it isn’t.  Because this Courfeyrac is giving him a chance to be whatever he wants – to be what he is – and what he is isn’t Marie.  So then and there he decides: Marius.  He doesn’t want it changed too drastically, because his father gave him the name Marie, but Marius just feels so much… better.  It fits.  So from that point on Courfeyrac only ever addresses Marius by the name Marius. Only introduces him to people as Marius, only ever refers to him in the masculine, never writes an extra E, or turns an F into a -ve, never does anything than acknowledge that Marius is anything but a man.

“I once had to listen to Grantaire debate whether or not we’re even humans,” Courfeyrac tells him one evening.  “Believing you’re a man is much easier than believing that we might be nothing more than wishful thinking.”

In fact the only time anything about this made Courfeyrac lose his composure was when he returned home one evening to find Marius in front of their mirror, hair around his feet and scissors in his hand. Courfeyrac will tell anyone who’ll listen that he has never seen such an offensive haircut in his entire life.  So Courf jammed one of his top hats onto Marius head so that it’d be big enough to drop down to Marius’ ears and hide his hair, and then hauled him off to his own barber so that Marius might be able to leave the house again without embarrassing both of them.

Or imagine when Courf gives Marius his old, green jacket.  It seems obvious to Courfeyrac – Marius obviously has no desire to go about in his dress anymore (in fact the two of them gleefully burn the corset over the stove one evening, and nearly get themselves kicked out for the amount of smoke they choke the place with), so he’s going to need some menswear.  It’s just an old coat after all, and it’s hardly tailored to Marius’ size, but it’ll have to do.  He’s really not sure how to handle it when Marius looks like he might cry over his old, ratty hand-me-downs.

And it does take Marius a while to get use to wearing trousers and jackets without feeling bad.  It takes him a while to shake the feeling of shame or deviance or perversity when he does it.  Having a friend who supports you whole-heartedly and who doesn’t seem to think it remotely strange definitely helps.  So does putting on a waistcoat and jacket over his shirt and binder and seeing his chest hidden completely and feeling so so so right about it.  So does every day he shakes free of his grandfather’s cloying shadow a bit more and is able to realize that he is free to be his own man.