why are her feet so small

ok you know that ‘make the princess laugh and you can have her hand in marriage’ thing?

imagine so many come in.

they try, so hard, to make her laugh.

she just sits there, morose, ignoring every man who tries to coax a smile.

one day she’s sitting on the balcony. she just looks so sad.

of course that little thief tries to make her smile.

a girl who goes through the (semi public) royal gardens every day to pick flowers, even though technically only the royal family is allowed to do that. 

she sees the princess while she’s picking them up to sell on the streets, and she’s just… so sad. this princess needs someone to cheer her up.

and she tries. she’ll do silly dances when she comes in, she’ll bring up frogs from ponds and act out comedies, she’ll make flower crowns and exaggerate just how hard it is.

the first few days, the princess doesn’t even look at her.

then she starts noticing. this girl, trying so hard to cheer her up. she probably hasn’t even heard of the hand in marriage thing, she doesn’t know she’s trying so hard for nothing.

but she does it anyway.

one day, the princess starts talking to her as she does these things. “You do know that it’s useless?”

“What?” the thief says. “No way! I’m going to get you to laugh!”

“The best jesters in the kingdom have tried, don’t bother,” the princess declared pessimistically, staring down at the girl.

Then the thief puffs out her chest, “Of course I am! I’ll find the best jokes, even better than the jesters have found! I’ll… fight a fire breathing dog for them!”

There’s no laugh, but the corner of the princess’s mouth twitches. it’s sad how she thinks she can make me laugh…

the girl keeps trying, for years, making more silly stories and trading flowers for jokes rather than food or money. the princess slowly realizes the girl is getting closer and closer, asking her for responses in knock knock jokes and encouraging her to speak when she wouldn’t respond immediately.

the princess eventually had the girl hanging from her balcony, holding on tight to the rail and feet wedged between the columns, grinning and telling yet another iteration of that already old chicken joke.

the princess has been smiling, slightly, but she mostly just looks unresponsive. the girl is happy, it’s better than looking so sad, like she had been years before.

the girl moves on to puns, pointing at the exotic lunch the princess was eating. “Why do the melons have to go to get married? They cantaloupe!”

“You only know that word because of me,” the princess snarks, but there’s a small smile there, a bit of happiness. This little flower girl, this thief has grown into an amazing friend, a wonderful person who genuinely just wants to help. she doesn’t know of the deal, only nobles and jesters could know, not the commonfolk.

“Well, it makes quite the pun,” the girl says, proud of her joke. a smile! what an accomplishment!

“Say…” she continued, “What would you call a princess who got swept up in conversation a thief?” she pulled a flower out of her pocket, waving it in front of the princess’s face. the princess’s eyes crossed to see the flower before they rolled at the obvious setup.

though, it was interesting that it obviously involved them.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, sighing in preparation for another horrible pun. “What?”

the girl grinned. “A pretty theft!” she exclaimed, ticking the flower against the princess’s nose.

the princess froze for a moment, stunned. she had been complimented a million times over, called graceful by etiquette instructors, been called beautiful by many a suitor, been called wonderful by her mother before… she stopped thinking about that. 

she had never been called pretty.

she burst into laughter at the commonplace compliment, as if she was some sort of milkmaid who had somehow grown up to be good looking! it was ridiculous, the notion, yet somehow it had her blushing all the same.

then she suddenly stopped, realizing what she’d done.

the flower thief was staring at her in amazement, a blush of her own speckling her cheeks. her flower tilted out from in front of the princess’s nose, as if it had it’s own amazement.

“Wow…” the girl breathed. she’d never heard something so beautiful in her life.

The princess was silent, knowing what she had just done. She had just laughed for the first time in years.

The girl may not have been aware of the arrangement, but she was quickly swept up in it. A maid had heard the laughter and burst in, to find the thief and the princess, caught up in each other’s eyes, reveling in what had just happened.

The wedding was beautiful, a flower filled affair, a wonderful nod to how it happened. The king was so happy to see his daughter with someone who made her smile for once, tearing up as they were wed.

The princess’s laugh was still incredibly rare. She still had a hard time smiling. But a well timed joke from the girl– no, her wife– and another flower that had a hidden meaning behind it, than maybe, maybe you would hear it.

After all, the princess had finally laughed with the one she loved.

“make the princess speak and you will have the crown of kings.”

my knees hurt, as usual, from scrubbing. technically i’m too high of Maid Station to help out with these things, but i like seeing what happens when you clean. the development of things. how a lot of effort can make something. i like learning and trying and working hard to get towards something.

and i’ve seen them, from the back of pillars, from behind cracked doors, from beside her (on the best days) the way they talk to her. oh beautiful won’t you just look at me. oh darling. if you speak i’ll be your prince. if you speak i’ll be your king. 

the princess, i know, finds the lines of suitors boring. it’s in the way her hands are always moving. she hides yawns, leaves early, we make her apologies. once, a man comes and tries to startle her into screaming. she rolls her eyes and looks directly at me. i have to hide my smile behind my sleeve. he is taken away while still screaming.

by accident, i find her once, crying. when we imagine princesses, they always cry daintily. hers is hoarse, angry, and something in it breaks me. in my station i should apologize and bow and leave. instead i am frozen, watching her shoulders heaving.

she looks up and spots me, her cheeks ruddy. i know i should go but instead i make a big show. i act as one of her princes. i make grand gestures and speak in deep voices. i frantically offer her handkerchiefs and trip over my own two feet. a smile crawls up over her, slowly. i dab my sweat away and offer her the used rag. i feign a fluster, turn a terrible cartwheel, make shadow puppets. the sound of her laugh, raw and rusty, sends shivers through me.

for a while, i do not see her after this. but then i am called to her chambers. she is crying again. i offer silly gifts, pebbles and dusting rags and a candlestick from her own kitchen, pretend to steal it, use it as a hat, rock it as a babe. she laughs more easily this time, gladly, and when she laughs i am taken by more important maids, thereby officially Excused.

it goes like this for months. the winter comes. i rarely see her. i spend my week thinking about ways to please her. i knick interesting cookies, show her shiny buttons, learn to cartwheel in a full skirt, and then promptly how to make it look foolish again. i learn how to juggle hot bread and dance as a man would, i learn how to balance on a ball and how to fall down without hurting myself, how to fake a fight with my own body, which colors she likes and which don’t please her.

i show up on a cold eve with a knotted line of scarves hidden down my sleeve, worried and breathless, wondering why she’s been crying. the door opens and she is sitting there, happy. at first i’m confused, but she waves me in. next to her is her small dessert, in two containers. i’m not sure how to respond, so i fake a fall to hear her laugh, and then sit at her feet. she gives me ice cream - so rare a treat. i know what went into making it - the hours of shaking. it’s smooth and tasty. i don’t feign my reaction, but she laughs anyway, kindly. 

it goes like this. i see her more frequently. she likes giving me new things, watching me discover i hate kiwi and love oranges and would die if it made her laugh breathlessly. i’ve made her keel over with cackling and she’s put a fire in me. sometimes we just sit there, quietly, enjoying each other’s company. 

it’s in her hands, always moving. little things i thought were just her, fidgeting. here’s how she says she’s thirsty, this is what her hands do when she needs a second to think, here’s how she shows she’s happy. this is how i learn to speak back to her. around her i spend much of my time smiling. i feel every visit is a gift. a new part to unravel. i find out she doesn’t respond to spoken things, that she needs to be looking in order to know you were speaking. sometimes she has me talk and she holds her hands to the base of my throat, her eyes wide and wondering. sometimes she just looks at me and i forget that i’m her jester in chief. i get caught up in her eyes, in how expressive they are when she’s happy, in how when she’s sad i feel like i’m drowning.

i never see the king or queen, but i know when she’s had a visit with them, because she never comes back happy. two winters i have known her, two winters and now we dine frequently. i am often called to stand beside her, to whisper translations of her desires into the ears of someone more important than i, someone who gets to be the voice of royalty. i can’t decide if i’m her friend or her plaything, but i don’t know i care much of the distinction. every moment i’m near her is a moment free of friction. i take stock of suitors and curtsy to them in daylight only to mock them in the candle’s eye later.

she asks me one night to stay. it has been a bad day. it’s completely not okay. i cannot say no but i cannot, by my station, stay. but she begs with her eyes and her hands and i know i’ll take the punishment. 

we lie beside each other. i make sure to turn to her when i speak. in the dark she can’t see me, so i move my hands in the way i’m learning. she asks if i am ever lonely. i cannot tell her that i am always lonely without her beside me, so instead i say i think all people are very lonely and just are pretending. she laughs a little at that and says she thinks her parents are the two most lonely people that ever met. her mother was like her; broke a fairy curse and talked, just once, although nobody knows what she said. well, excepting her father, who was the only one around, and who won her hand in marriage.

from her mother she learned the art of hands, of speaking without words - from her father she learned that who she was included a curse. that she just wanted someone who would make her open like a rose - someone who could fix her. how she stared out into the royal garden and wished on flowers to be what her kingdom needs.

she fell asleep pressed against me. i couldn’t breathe. i was still awake in the morning. 

the punishment never came. we spent nights like this. the handmaidens had grown to know me. whenever their princess was stubborn, i worked magic and made her lovely.

it was a terrible thing. i did too good a job, i think. the princess glowed too much or shone too brightly - or at least, i saw it that way, so who knows what the truth is. every day it felt like we were being rushed with princes. 

her father’s temper at hosting failed. it was the day before her twenty-first birthday and first time i’d ever seen him. he stormed in at the end of the session. “just speak!” he said, “it’s not that hard! do for others what your mother did!” 

“tomorrow is your last day of this,” he warned her, “either you pick a prince or i pick for you. i’m done with it.”

he stormed off. she was left shellshocked and trembling. that night she didn’t ask me to come, but i waited outside, just in case she changed her mind. i understood why she needed space. either she’d speak and be married tomorrow or she’d be married shortly. i heard her crying and it took everything in my power not to rush in and hold her, cradle her gently. but i cannot come into a room of a royal person without being invited. i stayed there, tears in my own eyes, thinking of treason.

the next day was a huge festival. what had been a birthday celebration was turned into a day about princes. i watched her shake her head. i tried to cheer her up. i tried everything. i frequently came inches from causing public humiliation, toed the line of mocking and failing to acknowledge my station. she wouldn’t smile. not once. not even for anything.

the day was long. the bonfire wore down. i watched her crumple into herself. i was out of ideas. i knelt at her feet. her eyes barely looked at me. just wait, i said to her with my hands, i’ll be right back. i took off running.

the price of stealing is losing my hands. these things that i spoke to her with. these things that mattered so much to me, that helped with my comedy and cleaning. 

i didn’t think of them. i bloodied my fingers when i ripped the royal roses from their stems. and then i ran, as fast as i could, back to her feet. i picked them to show you, i said, as she gasped, looking at my treason, they’re beautiful and nobody told them to open to reveal their secrets to the bees. they are unbroken. as you are. as you always will be. 

she fell off her throne and for a second i was beyond speaking, worried something had happened, or she’d fainted, or i’d said the wrong thing. but then she was on her knees, her arms around me, and i heard it. i heard the soft croak of her speaking. just one word, and it sent shivers down me. my name, in her voice, awkward and unwieldy, but full of love and passion, burning fire through me.

i felt a hand on my shoulder. i was pulled away from her. they already had me in handcuffs while i struggled to get back to her, to tell her i loved her, to beg her to run off with me or maybe just hold me around her, maybe just have her for a moment, because i couldn’t live without her for a moment longer.

they put me in the cells. i rotted in there, for a while or for no time at all, i’m not sure. the thorns scarred my palms. i watched the scabs build up and flake off. every time someone came down, i flinched, wondering if i would be the next to be taken and chopped into bits.

but one day the light was different. not the smoky torch of the jailer, instead a bright light in a lantern. at first when i saw her, my breath caught in my throat, mistaking her for my princess.

but she was my queen. at first we stood in silence. and slowly, i moved my hands to speak. is she married? is what came out, even though i should be more worried about me myself and me.

she is not. she bit her father on the arm when he tried to make her. then she fought him. and then ran away. it took us a bit to find her, i’m afraid. she threatened her own life and the life of everyone in this place. the queen was smiling. i was told there was a young woman who could make the princess speak, whom she would die to save, who brought roses to her feet. someone in a cell, rotting. are you her?

the memory of her voice rang through me. i’m she.

yes, her hands said, for even now, aren’t you speaking to the silent Queen?

she opened the door. come, she said, let’s get you cleaned up for the ceremony.

the crown of kings. when she wraps her arms around my neck and laughs next to me, i am royalty. when she smiles or makes a joke or asks to see my cartwheel again, i’m lost in her. i kiss her whenever i can, which is often. we have roses in a vase at the base of our bed, and for all of the kingdom, i’d give my hands if it would keep her laughing.

the next time she spoke was just once, at our wedding, where she said the two words i do to bind us for eternity. she had learned from me, from holding her hands over my voicebox, the way i learned from her how to use hands to speak. sometimes at night she says my name, just because she likes what it does to me.

i’m more blessed than a king. every day i spend with her is a day i spend happily. 

RFA + When They Realize They’re In Love

ohhh, look a headcanon/scenario post! :D this was a whole lot longer than i originally planned, but oh well!! i played around with each of their stories, so i hope you don’t mind <3 <b>you can find JAEHEE, JUMIN and 707′s under the cut! if you have any requests, feel free to shoot them my way. anyway, i hope you enjoy!


RFA + THE MOMENT THEY REALIZE THEY’RE IN LOVE

YOOSUNG

Yoosung thinks he’s sick.

His heart starts palpitating, his palms grow sweaty and he’s so out-of-focus that he’s losing his streak on the LOLOL leadership boards. He downs a cup of coffee, glaring at his bedroom clock, which stared back with a 22:12pm in bright blue lights. It’s way too early to be feeling tired, he thinks.

He sighs, exiting the server and letting the game’s background music blast through his computer’s speakers. He places a hand to his neck, feeling for a warm temperature, only to end up confused as he realizes he’s not even remotely feverish. Worriedly, he calls her up, sure that she would know what’s up with him.

“Hey [Name],” he says, going back to his desk to take another swig of coffee. He joins another server, hoping LOLOL would help calm his nerves. Why was he always so nervous when he was talking with her? He prattles on about his supposed “symptoms” as he patiently waits to be connected to the server.

“Sounds like you’re in love,” she suddenly blurts out. He almost sprays his coffee all over his computer at those words. He can tell she’s joking. She was joking, right? Right? He tries to come up with a reply, but all that comes out of him is a strangled sound. He hears her laughing from the other end. “Ohhh, bulls-eye! Who’s the lucky person? Is it me you’ve fallen for?”

Yoosung’s eyes widen at this, and his heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest and start tap-dancing on his desk. He’s stunned to a silence; his mind is racing, wondering whether or not to confirm her statement. Well, that would certainly explain why he always felt so worked up around her. Before he could even answer her question, he hears her awkward laughter on the other end of the phone.

“Hey, I was kidding! Playing some LOLOL might calm your nerves, but I suggest not staying up too late. It might actually be a fever, after all.” Yoosung manages to quickly blurt out an apology as well as a thank you, before wishing her a good night and ending the call without waiting for her reply. He leans back on his chair, staring at the cream-colored ceiling above him.

It’s when he places both of his hands on his chest and feels the rhythmic thumping of his heart. It’s when he tries to steady his breathing, and when he finally does, he remembers what she said and wheezes. It’s when he realizes that he knows the answer to her earlier question, but he was too shy, too scared to actually answer her. It’s when he makes a promise to tell her, face-to-face and unabashedly, one day. Yoosung’s eyes linger to his desk clock.

It’s at 22:17pm on a LOLOL-filled Tuesday night that he realizes that he’s completely, head-over-heels in love with her.

ZEN

Zen can’t sleep.

He’s lying in bed, positively tired after a day’s work. He knew he did well earlier, yes, but his own self-reassuring thoughts did very little for his nerves. Ever since the whole hacking situation, he’s been on edge during his performances; he can’t help but be upset at himself for not giving his all for his audiences.

Despite being an “egotistical prick”, as Jumin calls it, he was often hit by waves of doubt during these late sleepless nights. His self-reassuring thoughts began to shift into ones of doubt, pushing him to twist and turn in his suddenly uncomfortable bed.

Was he a genuinely good actor? Did people watch his musicals for his talents or for his looks? Would he ever be more than just a handsome face up on the stage? He was jolted back to reality by the sudden ringing of his cellphone. He begrudgingly reached out to view the caller ID: [Name].

Without a second thought, he immediately answers the call. Her cheerful voice was tinged with a hint of her own weariness. He feels his heart begin to swell, savoring the way her voice says his name. “Can’t sleep either?” he says, genuinely happy to find her calling him out of all the other RFA members.

“Yeah,” he hears her say. “I was hoping you were awake. I’m glad I was actually right.” His chest tightens at this, and he can’t help but smile at the thought of her thinking about him at such an hour. He finds a sort of solace in her, thankful for her constant presence amidst all the happenings in his life.

The two converse, and he finds the weight on his shoulders gradually become lighter. His heart is both calm and erratic, and he finds himself laughing together with her, despite being miles apart. When he hears her congratulate him for the show he put on, for being such an amazing actor on-stage, for doing so well, even if he may not believe so, he almost starts crying.

“You’re doing so well, Zen. I’m sure all your fans can agree that you’re doing so much more. I mean that, truly. If you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here. So is Jaehee and the rest of the RFA,” she says from the other end of the line, and he allows himself to think that she means it. No, he knows she means it; it’s in the way that she speaks to him that he knows she’s saying nothing but the truth.

It’s when she says her good night that he catches himself almost saying it. He purses his lips, blundering out a good night of his own before slamming the END CALL button. It’s when his eyes shoot wide open, and he feels a ditzy smile gracing his lips. It’s when his self-doubting thoughts are replaced by thoughts of her. He brings his pale hands to his hair, and he can’t help but marvel at how much she affects him.

It’s when he catches himself thinking about her in wonder does he realize that he’s crazy about her.

((more under the cut))

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Cracker Jacks and kiss cams

Summary: A story in which Bucky Barnes is very smitten, there’s a baseball game between the New York Mets and the Chicago Cubs, and Cracker Jacks are consumed.

Prompt: “I never thought you’d break my heart”
Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: None. A bit of language maybe, but this is all just sappy fluff. 

A/N: This is my submission for @just-some-drabbles​ Rom-Com writing challenge, thanks for letting me join last minute and congratulations on reaching 4k! This story came about because I really love baseball, I really love the Chicago Cubs, and I really love Bucky Barnes, so all in all, it felt like a win-win.

MASTERLIST

(Bucky, opening Google search)

“how do you know if a woman is interested”
“when do you know if a woman wants to kiss you”
“how to tell a woman you love her without saying it”
“why do I suck at talking to her”
“oh my god why can’t I just ask her out” 

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Too Close (B.Barnes) *SMUT*

Too Close

Bucky Barnes

Warnings: a/b/o dynamic, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), swearing, some hair pulling, dirty talk

Tagging; @heatherhoney2000 @widowsfics @myluvislikewow @canibeadino @sebseyesandbuckysthighs @buckysbackpackbuckle @angelsdeadromance @potterhead7656 @annadier @shawnmendes987q @glittervelvetandlace @dislarryting @wine-and-space-donuts @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x @gothamsmermaid @fantasticimpaladoctor @nopevilleluas @kinqshley @makeupgirllaur @eileenlikesyou-maybe @incadinkadoo @mermaidinplaid @lostinspace33 @heavymetalangel @therealcap @princess-basket-case



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What Would You Want?

Request: “hi i was wondering if you could do a fluffy sirius x reader where they’re just cuddling and talking about their future together (like having kids, getting married) idk ah i really love your writing btw !!”

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Word Count: 1034

Warnings: None

Originally posted by admireforever


It was very late on a Monday night. Most were sound asleep, but the toll that had taken its place on all the exhausted students due to the most dreaded day of the week didn’t seem to affect you and Sirius. Instead, you were lying on a couch in the Gryffindor common room, cuddling by the fire with a pleasant type of lethargy. You both kept saying how it was time to go up to your actual beds, since you both had the same early potions class tomorrow morning, but the urgency had seeped from your bones, being replaced by a thick laziness that weighed you down blissfully. The more you fought against it, the heavier it got. Eventually, you had simply accepted that you would probably talk into the early hours of the morning, only falling into sleep when you had no more words to say. Sirius’ arms were the most peaceful place in the world, it was no wonder why you had no desire to leave your spot.

“What would you have our wedding be like?” He asked after a long comfortable silence, his nose touching yours as he spoke.

“Our wedding?” You yawned. “Who said I’d marry you?”

Sirius let out a soft chuckle, his eyelids heavy.

“I know you’ll say yes when the day comes. You can never resist me.”

“And if I say no?”

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Bill Denbrough: The Coolest Loser

Request  → “Can you do a Billxreader where he has a crush on you and hides it away by ignoring you but you’re friends with Beverly and she invites to the lake and Bill is nervous at the sight of you in underwear and the others tease him about it?” - Anon

A/N  → Sorry if the transitions from POV to POV make things a little confusing. I kept things as fluid as I possibly could! Also I may have been a bit slack with re-reading it, but juts hmu and if I can fix it I will!

Pairing → Bill Denbrough x Reader (She/Her Pronouns)

Warnings  → None I think?, msg me and i’ll add some


You sat on the fire escape of your family’s’ small apartment. You were reading some bright, blocky coloured magazine, enjoying the fresh air. Loud tinny footsteps lifted your eyes as you saw Bev making her way up to you.

You smiled, and she gave you a small one back, eyes flickering up to her home, one level above yours. She hesitated on climbing higher.

“Your old man left not long ago” you informed her.

She looked at you, then thought, and then returned your smile in full.

“Must have gone to the store” she decided, sighing.

She sat with you, tittering away into the evening. Talking about each other’s days. “It was pretty great” she said, referring to her day at the Quarry with the Losers. In all honesty, they didn’t sound much like losers at all.  Pretty cool actually. “I’m sure that if I bring a plus one, no one’s gonna mind, especially if it’s you” She hinted. You didn’t get it. “You should come next time!”

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tumblr taz fandom: dragonborn are like six or seven feet tall, why does everyone draw Carey so smol?

me, an intellectual: in her first appearance, Carey is described as unusually small for a dragonborn, and therefore is probably similar in stature to an average human. She just looks tiny in fan art because Killian, herself a member of a race that averages well over six feet tall and frequently noted for her strength, is just that huge.

only the finest

Lena just wanted a nice night out with Kara.


“Would you like to go on a date?”

It slips out. Quiet and rushed, the words forming and letting loose before she can think anything other than please say yes. Kara freezes, noodles halfway to her mouth as she looks between them, and Lena almost takes them back.

(They’ve been doing this- meetings under the guise of interviews, the latest on L-Corp- for weeks.

Somewhere, between hands brushing just so as they pass food back and forth, it’s become featherlight kisses on the corner of her mouth when Kara leaves, promises to call when the other is free and texting whenever they can.

Somewhere, Kara has went from her only friend in National City to something. Something that makes her heart race with possibility and ache with the thought of its loss if she pushes.)

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Nice to see y'all are enjoying these time traveling shenanigans just as much as I am! (・ω・)ノ

————

ZENYATTA:
He was assigned to you in the beginning, as a councilor of sorts. That was something he would never mind doing; he enjoyed helping anyone who wanted it.

However, something about you seemed different than others he had worked with.

Yes, you were frazzled- an expected response- but you accepted him, trusted him, at a much faster rate than he was used to.

It was……..refreshing?

Either way, you quickly became one of his favorite students and closest friends. His team of two suddenly became a group of three, and he was left with a confusing feeling, striking him silent in the most peculiar moments.

“You called me master?” Genji peaks around the open door leading out to a close grassy cliff side, perfect for meditation.

“Yes, do you have time to speak with me?” Zenyatta sits there, petting a stray cat in his lap, under the shade of a large tree.

“I do.” He settles next to his master, cross legged as always. “May I ask about what?”

“Of course,” he rests his hand on the back of the purring cat, “I wish to speak of my emotions. They have become more and more confusing as time passes.”

Genji nods in agreement. “I understand. I will do my best to help you master.” He folds his hands in his lap. If he was being honest, he didn’t feel anywhere near qualified to assist him.

“I am glad.” He hums, “Now where to begin?” He taps his chin. “Perhaps the warmth in my chest.”

“Warmth? Are you sure it is emotion causing it?”

“Yes. I had a doctor check it.” He sets his hand on his chest plate, “I believe it is caused by my body overworking itself due to unknown circumstances. It is a feeling akin to a fierce battle; though, one is not occurring at the time.”

“And, when does it happen?”

“During the normalities of my daily routine.” He lowers his hand and glances at it, “There are times as well were I cannot think, or am forgetful. Though, it is not happening now.”

“That is interesting. You still have no idea what the cause is?”

“No.” He sighs. “Do you have any suggestions, my student?”

“I am not sure. Human and Omnic emotions sometimes differ,” he pauses, “however, if you were human, I would think that you were either sick, or had a crush.”

“A crush?” It was more of a statement than a question. “Yes, that would make sense.”

“It would? But, on who?” Though he tried to hide it, his extreme curiosity coated his words.

“Hmm. Perhaps [y/n].” He begins to pet the cat again, and it lets out a contempt chirp. “Yes, as I think about it, I believe it is correct.” He beams at Genji. “Thank you.”

“It is no problem.”

GENJI:
Good friends, to Genji, were hard to come by. Sure, he had many acquaintances, but not many people above that.

It took maybe a day of knowing each other to move into friendship. He was ecstatic, to say the least, to find someone so fond of his presence, and who would also laugh at his lame jokes (to which he told a lot).

“High five!” You boast, and he complies, following it up with a fist bump. Childish, he knew, but he was allowed to be such. “Haha! Nice.”

“No fair!” Lúcio fakes a huff. “I’m not used to going on three! I panicked!”

“Okay, my turn.” You place your fist in your palm, determination in your eyes, “Me and you, death match.”

“I will not lose to you again!” He readies his stance, Angela counts down, and you both release your weapons.

“Paper beats rock, Genji wins.” She announces.

Lúcio knowingly sets his hand on your shoulder as your head falls. “Looks like we got cleaning duty.” You groan loudly and he nods solemnly, “Me too.”

“It’s best to get started now.” Angela starts, shooing the two of you out. “The storage room needs a lot of work.”

“We know,” you sigh and turn to leave, “c'mon Lúcio.”

As soon as the door shuts behind you, Genji begins his speed walk out, only to be stopped by Mercy’s expecting hum.

“You weren’t expecting to leave without giving me an update, now were you?” His shoulders droop, knowing he’s already lost.

“No, of course not Doctor Ziegler.” Curse his polite nature! He knew she only wanted to gossip, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be rude enough to lie in order then leave.

She clasps her hands excitedly and smiles wide. “So, any new developments?”

“No, nothing has changed.” Her smile disappears slightly.

“Still nothing?” He nods and she frowns, “Genji, I thought Saturday was the day!”

“It was.” He crossed his arms, pausing his thought, carefully choosing his words. “Until I accidentally spilled juice on them.”

She was struck with silence. “I- and how did that happen?”

He places his head into his hand, “I was……….showing off…….”

“Genji,” he hears her scolding him, “we talked about this!”

“Yes, I recall.” He runs his hand down his faceplate, “I was nervous and not thinking. I did apologize, but that may have made things worse.”

“Is that why there was broken glass on the floor?”

“Yes.”

She let out a short sigh, “You do tend to make a big fuss around them.” Steam leaks from his shoulders and he turns his head away. She shakes her head, tapping her foot against the floor. “Maybe it would be easier if you didn’t try so hard. I’m afraid, at this rate, you might end up really hurting someone.”

He shifts on his feet and nods slightly. “You are right. I should try to handle this less forcibly.”

“Do you want me to brain storm ideas with you?” She offers.

He perks up a small bit, “It would be most appreciated.”

MCCREE:
It was no secret that you were immediately shy upon meeting the cowboy. But there was something else about you, something……..odd.

Maybe that wasn’t the best way to put it- yet he didn’t know what else it would be. So, his curiosity drove him to you. He needed to know what it was.

Now, believe it or not, Jesse was a smart man; and when feelings started to occur, he immediately started to distance himself, only to realize that he was in too deep.

For him, a fling was something he could handle. Real romance? Haha! No.

“Hey! Mr. Jesse, any chance I could talk with you?” Oh, it was that Lúcio kid. What could he want to talk about? They weren’t exactly friends; more like acquaintances.

“Sure, I guess?” He shoves his hand into his pocket, and uses the other one to scratch his beard. “‘Bout what, exactly?”

“[y/n]-” Why you? What about you would he want to talk about? Oh. Oh god! The jig is up, he knows; he’s gonna tell you! Abort, ABORT.

“You doin’ okay over there, buddy?” Lúcio sways slightly on his heels, “You’re getting a little pale.”

He coughs in his hand to rid himself of nerves. “Yeah, just dehydrated, I reckon.” His body feels a bit more clunky, “I didn’t quite catch what you said there before.”

Moment of truth. He knew this day was coming, but did he prepare for it? No.

“If you say so…” He wasn’t entirely convinced; it was written all over his eyes.

He distantly remember you telling him that Lúcio was incredible at reading people, and that wasn’t helping him calm down one bit.

“I was just asking what you thought I should get for their birthday?”

Ah.

Well, doesn’t he just feel like an idiot.

“I’m sure whatever’s fine.” He wanted this conversation to end so that he could go to his room and scold himself for getting so worked up over nothing.

“Are you sure your okay? Nothing’s up?” There was a pause, not long enough for him to respond. “Is it about [y/n]?”

“Uh-”

“It is!” He exclaims, pointing. Man, he was good at reading people.

“No, it’s not!” Jesse crosses his arm, glancing around the room. He’d rather not talk about this in a public place.

“I promise I won’t tell no body!” This boy was getting excited. He shuffles over to him and jokingly jabs his side with his elbow. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll be my present to them, huh?”

“Now that’s just ridic-”

“Oh my god. I was just joking! I didn’t know that you actually liked them!” How much more excited could this kid get?

“Look, I don’t really want to talk about it.” He lifts his hat off his head, runs his fingers through his hair, and places it back on his head. “Not here, anyway.” He gestures to the open, and thankfully empty, lounge.

“Oh yeah, got it!” The Dj whispers at him with a wink. “I’m totally willing to help you out, dude!”

“I….. just might take you up on that offer.”

“Really!?”

“Not if you keep shouting!”

“Sorry.”

———-

I really like writing Lúcio……. Can you tell?

(I’m also really tired, so please excuse my mistakes ( ´ ▽ ` )ノ)

Little Fireheart. (Rowaelin Oneshot)

Creak.

Rowan’s eyes shot open.

He glanced at his wife, her breathing steady and quiet, her body outlined by the light of the moon. Rowan had been away with Aedion for the last week, overseeing Terrasen’s new recruits, and he had spent hours making it up to Aelin earlier that evening. Considering how often she moaned his name, and the marks on his back from her nails, he figured he was forgiven.

With a smile, he pulled up the thin, white blanket to her bare shoulders, and kissed her forehead gently. “I love you, Fireheart.”

As he stood, he swore he heard her mumble Buzzard, but when he looked back, eyebrows raised, she was still sound asleep. He pulled on his pants with a chuckle and grabbed a blanket from the chair by the fireplace on his way out the door.

The creaking of the stairs had stopped, and the pitter-patter of small feet were now heavy on the main floor. Wrapping the blanket around his broad shoulders, Rowan silently took the stairs two at a time.

He found her by the window, watching the city-goers walk by their private residence under the streetlights. She had her chin perched on her knees and her arms wrapped around her legs as she sat on the window sill, her golden hair a mess and her pajamas rumpled. She was clinging to her white-fur blanket, the one she was given by Gavriel the day she was born.

He leaned against the door frame, watching her, admiringly. He thought back to the first time he held her in his arms, bundled in that same blanket, when terror and love and utter joy flooded him. He remembered looking into the eyes of his firstborn, his daughter, and knowing he was in trouble. She had put him through hell since the day she’d been born, and she was only four. There was a lot more hell to go.

And he loved every minute of it.

“Didn’t your mother tell you to stay in bed?”

The small figure jumped at her father’s voice, her cheeks turning pink as she turned to face him. “Maybe….”

The silver-haired fae crossed his arms as he tried not to smile, and failed. “Ana.”

When her lip began to wobble, he ran to her side and pulled her into his arms. Once her small arms had wrapped around his neck, and her head was lying on his shoulder, he sighed.

“Are you mad, daddy?” she asked.

Rowan sat down on the cushioned couch that sat in front of the fireplace and wrapped his blanket around his daughter. “No, why would I be mad?”

“Mommy gets mad when I get out of bed,” she said, matter-of-factly.

He laughed. “Mommy doesn’t get mad. She just wants you to get a good night’s rest, that’s all. So you can grow big and strong.”

“Does mommy get mad at you when you get out of bed?”

He pulled back and looked into those curious, pine-green eyes. It was the only trait she’d gotten from him. “Yes. So, don’t tell her I was out of my bed, and I won’t tell her you were out of yours. Deal?”

She held up her pinkie in answer, and Rowan wrapped his around hers.

“Deal,” she giggled, and fell into his chest.

“Why can’t you sleep?” he asked her, after a minute. “It is late.”

“I thought you were on my side,” her high-pitched voice was highly offended.

He held up his hands in defense.

The little girl sighed. “Uncle Aedion told me a scary story. Aunt Lysy got mad at him, but he thought it was funny.”

Aedion and Lysandra had taken Aliana to the square earlier that afternoon for lunch, and to find a dress for Friday’s gathering. Apparently, Aedion liked to add his own fun to the agenda.

“Scary story?” he brushed her hair back behind her ear. “About what?”

“About snow leopards.”

“Snow leopards?”

“Yeah, about how they eat little girls with-with blonde hair.”

Rowan made a mental note to kick Aedion’s ass tomorrow when they met for their early morning workout. “Uncle Aedion was just joking, Ana.”

She frowned. “Well, he’s not very funny.”

The corner of Rowan’s lips tugged upward as the little girl in his lap yawned.

“Go to sleep, Ana,” he kissed the top of her head. “I love you.”

“Will you stay?” she asked, pine-green eyes growing wide.

“Of course,” he promised, pulling her tighter against his chest.

Another yawn escaped. “Love you, too, daddy.”

They sat there, just the two of them, in silence as he patted her back, giving her the comfort that only he could.

“Daddy?”

“Hmm?” he asked, realizing he was dozing off.

“Can I be a bird like you?”

It took him a moment to realize she was talking about shape-shifting, and the thought made him laugh, breathily. “You can be anything you want to be, my Little Fireheart.”

But, when he didn’t get a reply, and he looked down at the four-year-old cradled in his arms, her eyes were closed, and her breathing was steady.

A small flame rose, and grew, from within the fireplace.

Rowan glanced toward the door frame and gave its occupant a soft grin. He whispered, “I thought I wore you out.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was humor there, and love. “I came to see why I was the only one in bed.”

He held out his free arm, and before he could take another breath, she was there, lying her head against his shoulder and taking her daughter’s feet into her lap.

“She’s getting so big,” she sighed. “I don’t understand why she thinks I’d be mad to find her downstairs. Remind me to kick Aedion’s ass, by the way.”

Rowan chuckled. “I’d be scared of you, too, Majesty.” Aelin stuck her tongue out at her husband. With a smirk, he continued, “How long were you standing there?”

“Long enough to come to the conclusion that you two must keep a lot of secrets from me,” she narrowed her eyes as if to say liars.

He shrugged. “A pinkie swear cannot be broken.”

She nudged him in the ribs, then continued to rub his chest with her finger in lazy circles to the sound of his quiet laughter.

“She’s perfect,” Aelin whispered, as Rowan’s eyes closed. “I still think that, every day, just how perfect she is. She reminds me of you.”

“She’s just like her mother,” Rowan whispered, back. “Yes, she is perfect. And beautiful. And kind. And smart.”

As he opened his eyes, he caught the tear that had fallen down his wife’s cheek.

“There was a time when I didn’t think I would ever have this life,” she whispered. “There was a time when I dreamt of this life, with you. Sometimes, it feels like a dream after all that we’ve endured.”

“I often have to remind myself that it’s not,” he kissed her head as the flames in the fireplace grew. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“To whatever end.”

“Always,” she smiled. “To whatever end.”

Aelin fell asleep a minute later, and Rowan sat there, holding them both tightly, lovingly, admiringly, until the flames turned to embers, the logs turned to ashes, and sleep consumed him.

nobody — p.p.

wc: 1.7k
summary: “no one loved me when i was a nobody!” “well i did!” in which peter forgets about his friends after he gets closer to liz. (requested)


She was completely lost. High school had been promised to be the best four years of her life and she was sure that statement would ring true with Peter by her side. Now however, she wasn’t so sure. Peter had been her best friend for years and suddenly it was like their friendship was a myth.

How could Peter toss her to the side and forget her like that? She had been there through everything and ultimately, she fell in love with him. She hated clichés and the fact that she became one by falling for her best friend somewhat appalled her.

She wasn’t sure if it was because of that or her suspicions that Peter could never like her like that, that she bottled her feelings up and through them into the ocean. She knew Peter liked Liz Allan, the most beautiful girl in their whole school.

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Soulmark

Bucky/Reader

Genre: Angst? But with the tiniest bit of cute at the end?

Word Count: 5,478

Prompt: Soulmate au where when you turn 18 you get a mark where your soulmate touches your skin for the first time and the mark only disappears after they touch you.

A/N: Sooooo this is something that I wrote a loooong time ago on another blog that no longer exists, but after some quick editing, I remembered how much I loved this piece, and I wanted to put it out into the world again. That being said, this was written before the release of CACW, so it’s not wholly accurate to the movie. Enjoy!!  ♡

Originally posted by wintersthighs

~

You remember being young when your mother told you the story of her soulmark.

She was only twenty. Going to school full time while working a part time job, she had no time to sit around and dwell on the day she would meet her soulmate. Though, that didn’t keep her from thinking about him at night sometimes. What he would look like, sound like, feel like… She told you of how she would sometimes trace the outlines of her mark in the dead of the night when she couldn’t sleep – how it always made her feel calm and warm inside. Two large, lightly colored handprints on her sides, one on her waist while the other fell lower towards her hip.

It was a chance encounter. She had been late getting off work that evening, running to her train and thankfully catching it before it took off, yet her late entrance meant that there were no more seats open. Alas, she stood by the door, hand grasping one of the rails for balance. It was only briefly into her ride when it happened. The train hit a short stop that sent everyone pitching forward, and, for your standing mother, that meant falling straight into a man standing but a foot away from her. His hands grabbed her sides while her hand went for his shoulder in an attempt to stop themselves from falling but to no avail. Collapsing on the floor, they almost didn’t notice what had just happened, but as your mother raised her red face to apologize to the man, she noticed that where her hand just was, a perfectly sized peach hand print was beginning to fade. Looking into the man’s eyes, she moved herself to a sitting position, her hands coming up to her mouth to cover the ever-growing smile on her face.

“My hands- Were they-” The man’s unsure voice was cut off by your mother’s giggle and a vigorous nod of her head. Then, the man, your father, began to smile too, and it didn’t matter that they were on the floor of a dirty train in that moment. Nothing else could have mattered in that moment but them.

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A Boy Named Dean

Originally posted by jensenfans

Summary: Dean is cursed by a witch which leads to some hard times around the bunker…

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 3,300ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Funny-ish, angsty-ish, implied smutty-ish, this baby’s got it all…written for @jalove-wecallhimdean ‘s SuperBusters Challenge! My quote was, “Are you sure you’re using that thing correctly?”…


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Just Like Daddy

Summary: Dean has a nice conversation with his “Princesses.”

Pairing: Domestic!DeanXReader

Warnings: talking about dragons and princesses and stuff (not sure if that’s a real warning but I’ll put it in case)

Word count: ~700

~

“Daddy, why is Uncle Sam taller than you?” a small voice asks, and it catches your attention almost immediately.

You look up at Dean and wait for his answer, wondering how he’ll try to explain this one.

“I’m not really sure, Princess,” he admits, and her little head cocks to the side in confusion. “He just is.”

“Will Sissy be taller than me?” she asks, setting down her watering can on the ground and looking over to where her younger sister was playing in some mud.

“Maybe, I’m not sure,” Dean answers, picking up the small shovel and rake she had set down earlier. “But it doesn’t matter if she is.”

“Because I’ll always be there for her,” your eldest daughter says with a nod. “Like you’re always there for Uncle Sam.”

He pauses for a second, her words making a smile grow on his lips. He looks over to you, as though trying to figure out where she would learn to say something like that, and you shake your head.

She figured it out all on her own, from watching her father interact with his brother.

“Daddy?” she asks, and he turns his attention to her once more.

“Yes, Princess?” he answers as she scoops up her watering can.

“I wanna be just like you when I grow up,” she says happily, trotting a few feet forward to water a small plant growing from the ground.

His heart constricts, and he smiles as he watches her trot forward a few more paces to water another plant.

“Why is that, Princess?” he prompts.

“Cause you plant flowers with me and have tea parties with me and cause you love Mama and Sissy a lot and because you’re so cool like Uncle Sam,” she explains, like it’s the most simple thing in the world. “And cause you love me.”

“Of course I love you,” he says in a thick voice, this conversation with his oldest daughter making his heart swell. “You’re my Princess.”

“Daddy! Wanna princess!” a smaller voice chimes, and he sees his younger daughter toddling toward him, her face, arms, torso, and legs covered in mud.

“You’re my Princess, too,” he presses a kiss to her forehead as she latches onto him. “You’re both my Princesses.”

“Mama you queen!” she chants, clapping excitedly, and he grins as mud splatters across her hot pink tutu that she had to wear to play outside.

“Yeah, Daddy! If we’re princesses, Mama has to be a queen,” his oldest proclaims, and he grins slightly.

“Is that so?” he directs the question toward you, where you lay tanning in the sun’s rays. You crack an eye open and look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Damn right I’m a queen,” you mutter, sending him a knowing look.

“Mama queen!” your youngest chirps, and she races on chubby little feet toward you.

Dean watches as muddy handprints make their way to your clothes, a quiet groan leaving your lips at the mess.

“Daddy, I think Sissy isn’t a princess,” his oldest says, her nose crinkled slightly as she watches her younger sister. “She’s too muddy. Maybe she can be a dragon.”

“Princesses can get dirty,” he tells her, and she hums. She pauses for a moment, as though thinking about his words.

“No, Sissy is definitely not a princess,” she states once more, looking up to him sharply. “You can only have one princess and that’s me.”

“But what happened to always being there for her?” Dean asks, and she huffs as she picks up her remaining gardening tools.

“Well, I’ll always be there for her, even if she is a dragon and not a princess,” she says with ease.

“I think your Mama needs some help with the dragon, huh?” he asks, noticing how you were trying to keep your youngest entertained without getting too dirty.

“Yeah, Daddy,” she nods quickly. “You’re the knight, you have to save her from the dragon.”

“What will you do?” he asks as she gathers up her watering can and huffs.

“I’ve gotta try to turn the dragon into a princess again,” she says, and she hauls her watering can toward her sister, where she promptly dumps the water onto her sister.

And when his youngest starts to bawl at her sister’s actions, he knows that her idea of always being there for her was just slightly different than his idea of being there for Sam.

But it’s the thought that counts… Right?

The One

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader (Y/N Y/L/N) -off screen lol

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean gets nervous when talking to the Reader over the phone.

Word Count: 1k-ish

Warnings: Fluff

Author’s Note: Heyy guys!! This is my entry for Shannon’s aka @splendidcas  Birthday Fic Challenge!! Prompt is bolded!!  I hope you guys like it!! I literally typed it up this morning so I’m kinda proud!! Feedback is always welcomed!! Also, watch out for a second part!!! *wink*

P.S. thank you to Arie and Ree for convincing me to post it, even if I was losing hope!!! *hugs*



The One - Part One

My finger hovered over the call button, my heart racing. It shouldn’t be this hard, right? Since when did I get nervous when calling a girl up? It wasn’t like me.

But here’s the thing.

This wasn’t just a girl. It was the girl.

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Stupid

This was stupid

This whole thing, it was so stupid, and it made Annabeth feel stupid, and she wasn’t stupid, she was smart, gods damn it, so why couldn’t she do this? She should have been able to do this.

She only realised she was crying when a tear splashed on to the page of her textbook, blurring the black letters printed on the white page. That tear falling felt like conceding defeat, and soon enough she was crying in earnest, sobbing hard enough that the words became even less intelligible than they’d already been.

She put her head down on the book and let herself cry, feeling terribly stupid and sorry and frustrated. Her whole face felt hot, flushed with anger and annoyance - at this essay, at herself, at the fact that she was a daughter of the goddess of wisdom and she couldn’t seem to write a simple fucking essay.

When the door to her room opened she instinctively straightened, grabbing her dagger and spinning in her seat to face the intruder. When she saw who it was she immediately collapsed back onto the desk, face first, letting her dagger fall to the floor. 

She heard Percy shut the door behind himself. There were a few soft footsteps, and then a gentle hand on her shaking shoulder and a quiet question. “Annabeth, hey, what’s up?”

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Rough Night - Shed Your Skin Part 3

Originally posted by fyeahriverdale

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4

A/N: I had no idea where this was going to go when I started writing and I don’t know how i feel about how it turned out but here it is because I do like this story line, serpent Jug is good.

Summary: Jughead has a really rough night filled entirely with a lot of serious conversations and a lil’ almost something else

Word Count: 3,999 (yeesh)

Warnings: Gang activity, (underage) drinking, swearing 

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You Don’t Like Him

Request:  hi! can I get an imagine for Jay? basically, the reader is the daughter of Jasmine and Aladdin, and the reader avoids him for a while, until Evie convinces her to speak to him, and when she does he’s all like “You finally got over it and talked to me!” and slowly you guys became really close? thank you so much if you can, + I love your work! 🍧

Warnings: None

Words: 1,210

When the VK’s first came to Auradon, you didn’t have a problem with it. That was until you bumped into one of them in the halls and realized just who they were. 

Jay, son of Jafar. Also known as your parents worst enemy. 

And you hated to admit it, but you thought he was cute…extremely cute. And once you realized that you thought he was cute, that was when you told yourself that you would have nothing to do with him. You would not sit with him in classes, you refused to watch games when he was on the field, and any dances or special events he attended, you did your hardest to avoid him at all costs. 

Although that didn’t affect your relationship with the other VK’s, you and Evie actually became very good friends, teaching each other makeup tips and doing each other’s hair. Evie quickly made her way up to the top of your friend’s list, while she wasn’t your all time best friend, she was definitely up there. 

One day, in particular, you and Evie were hanging out in her dorm doing some chemistry homework before you guys headed out to do a bit of shopping. It started out normal and fine, that was until the door opened and Carlos de Vil came into the room, followed by Jay. The moment Jay entered the room, you felt your face heat up and your body tensed. 

He looked particularly cute, his hair was slightly sweaty so it stuck to his forehead, and it was pulled back so it wasn’t all on his face, and both boys were still in their tourney uniforms. You hated that he looked cute. You wanted to find any excuse to not like him, anything. But there was nothing.

“Hey Carlos, hey Jay!” Evie said, smiling and giving them a wave, and you began to gather up your things. 

“Hey Evie, I think I’m going to head out…I need to clean my dorm some before I can head out. Meet you in the main hall in thirty minutes?” You asked, and Evie raised an eyebrow, glancing over to the boys before looking back at you. 

“Uh, sure, [Y/N]…you didn’t mention this earlier?” Evie questioned, going to hand you your backpack. She wasn’t angry or anything, mostly curious. 

“It slipped my mind.” You lied, quickly darting around the tall son of Jafar and down the hallways, trying your hardest to control the blush on your face. 

You. Don’t. Like. Him.

A couple hours later when you and Evie were in the mall, the both of you were looking at the dresses just passing the time. “So, [Y/N], what’s the deal with Jay?” Evie suddenly asked you, not looking at you as she held up a dark royal blue colored dress to herself, trying to decide if she wanted it or not. 

“What do you mean?” You asked nervously, glancing over towards your friend and then back at the dress rack you were looking through, although none of them really interested you. “I don’t have a deal with Jay, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Evie rolled her eyes and finally turned her attention towards you, walking over to you. “Honey, there’s something going on with you, you’ve never really given Jay the time of day, and you’re always avoiding him. Everyone notices, especially Jay. So what gives?” Evie asked, crossing her arms as she looked at you. 

You gave a small sigh and looked down at your feet, not quite sure how to word exactly why you avoided him. Part of you just wanted to just blame it on his dad. and get it over with, although then that wouldn’t be right…Jay couldn’t help who his father was; so you decided to go with the truth. 

“I think he’s cute, and I’m scared that I think he’s cute…at first it was because I was just scared of him. But I’m not afraid of him anymore…I’m afraid of liking him.” You said honestly, then you gave a groan and put your head in your hands, your long hair falling past your shoulders. “That makes no sense.” 

Evie laughed and shook her head some, but she was smiling as she did it. “I knew it! You have a crush on Jay! I keep telling him that but he doesn’t listen-” 

“You talk to Jay about me?!” You exclaimed, looking up at her with wide eyes, and Evie laughed some more and nodded, putting her arm around your shoulders. 

“Please, he always talks about you. He doesn’t understand why you avoid him. He’s really into you… you should totally talk to him! Come on, he doesn’t bite. Much.” You rolled your eyes some, giving a laugh and going to head to the checkout line with Evie.

“I don’t know…I’m not pretty like all the other princesses he flirts with.” You said, now just trying to find an excuse not to, and Evie forced you to look at her. 

“[Y/N], you are beautiful, trust me when I say that. And Jay thinks so too. Just try talking to him, please? And if you find you end up not liking him, you can decide what to do, but just give Jay a chance?” Evie pleaded, and after a moment of thinking, you gave a small defeated sigh. 

“Fine…I’ll talk to him.”

The next day, you were at tourney practice waiting for Jay, your heart pounding in your chest and you had to force your feet not to run away, finally deciding to just walk up to him after practice was over and he was talking to Carlos. “Jay? Can I speak with you?” You asked, your face red with embarrassment. 

Jay looked at you and smiled, but nodded before excusing himself from his conversation with Carlos, walking with you to the bleachers. “So, you finally got over your fear of me?” He teased, to which you rolled your eyes. 

“Don’t get cocky…I wanted to apologize. I haven’t been treating you very fairly…truth is, at first you scared me. My parents are Jasmine and Aladdin. Your dad is Jafar. I was scared…” 

“And then?” Jay asked as he looked at you, then when he noticed the look of confusion on your face he continued. “You said at first. That means the reason changed after awhile.” He said, leaning against his tourney stick. 

Crap You thought to yourself before looking at him. “Then…well, then I was afraid because I think you are really cute, but you never stay with one girl for more than a couple dates.” You said honestly, feeling like your heart would burst out of your chest any second, and Jay smiled. 

“Well, did you ever think that maybe the reason I don’t stay with any girl very long is that, the girl I really want won’t talk to me?” He suggested, which made your eyes go wide, and he laughed at your reaction. “Here…go on one date with me. Just one. And if you decide after that you can’t stand to be around me, you can ignore me forever.” He compromised, and you smiled. 

“I think I can manage one date.”

somebody else // stiles stilinski pt. 5

Summary: Stiles broke her heart and now she can never look at him the same. They remained friends, but she can’t exactly find it in herself to truly forgive Stiles and he doesn’t know how to accept her new relationship with the one person he can’t stand. Overtime, they both eventually got over each other… or have they? 

Requested: no, collab with @minhosmeanhoe 

Warning: yes, mature language & themes

Inspired by this song

Masterlist 

Nothing had ever compared to the emptiness she felt inside. She was absolutely sure that she felt her heart break at his harsh words. Her throat felt permanently closed and she felt like she couldn’t breath. It felt like there was a rock in her stomach where there were once butterflies.

Regret washed over her as she replayed the heart wrenching moment over and over again. How could she have been so foolish? What did she think would happen? A small part of her hoped that once they kissed and her lips returned to their familiar home that things could go back to normal. How could she have been so naive? Nothing was ever going to go back to normal because there never was a normal.

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