with her head ducked down

warning for the new fall out boy “young and menace” video

at one point, a husband and wife are shown arguing over a kitchen table. the husband is using violent gestures, and the wife is holding her head. the husband becomes so angry that he picks up something glass and throws it against the wall. unfortunately, the way this violence is depicted in the video looks as if he is smashing something against her head. since the glass is a dark color, the shot where it smashes against the wall looks sort of like blood splattering; in the next shot, the wife ducks down to avoid the glass, grabbing at her head. this sort of seems like she is writhing in pain.

if you are triggered by depictions of domestic violence, this is good information to have if you choose to watch the video. and please share this information so that more people are aware of what they might see!

Truth Through The Lies

Come on guys! Why do you keep doing this to yourselves? Every time something new comes out, some in this fandom forget everything else we’ve learned, and have a full fledged freak out. I honestly don’t think the situation is as bad as the narrative leads us to believe.

I have avoided saying this, because it sounds awful, but it’s the truth, so I’m going to say it…The Entertainment Industry, as a whole, but especially the Music Industry turns their artists into professional liars. The Artists don’t lie to us because they want to, they do it because they have to.

Here’s the honest truth. In the Music Industry, the only thing that’s important, even more important than the music, is the narrative and Image of the Artist. The Industry has proven time and time again, that talent isn’t everything. There have been plenty of money made by artists, that in all honesty, couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. Yet, they become successful money makers, because of the Image and the narrative sold to the public.

Keep reading



Song or quote: Gotten by Slash Feat. Adam Levine 
Who: Bucky Barnes 

So nice to see your face again, tell me how long has it been
Since you’ve been here. You look so different than before
But still the person I adore, frozen with fear 

HYDRA had kidnapped [Y/N] for leverage on Captain America back in the forties. Little did they know that even though [Y/N] was a good friend of Steve Rogers, she would have been more useful in using her against Sergeant Barnes. She was the love of his life, the one dame who could take his breath away every single time she walked into a room. She had powers over him that he never thought a woman could have. But, sure enough [Y/N] had them and fell just as hard. 

Fast forward to when HYDRA had their files leaked, JARVIS caught and deciphered most of them. Leaving Steve with the information that a girl he had grown up with was frozen in time just like he had been. There was no argument on whether or not he would go get her because before he could discuss with anyone, he was already on his way. 

It took months for her cope with the fact that her last memory was being bound and gagged against her will with scientists hooking IV’s and strange equipment to her body and then the next, she was waking up to a familiar face but in an unfamiliar time. Struggle was an understatement because she couldn’t understand how any of the things she was going through was actually happening. 

But, time was the only thing that would help her. And eventually, she adapted. [Y/N] wasn’t quite as strong as the others but where she lacked in strength, she made up for in her precision. [Y/N] could calculate fight sequences before they happened, and it was like every weapon you threw in her hand, she knew exactly how to use it despite the fact that she had never picked up one prior. It was scary how she never missed and [Y/N] couldn’t even begin to tell you how she knew how to do some of things that she could do. She just knew.

“The Winter Soldier’s a ghost, huh?” [Y/N] said sarcastically as she watch the shadow move across the rooftops through her scope. Re-positioning the rifle against her shoulder, she looked through the scope again. “Looks well and alive to me.”

“Do you have a clear shot?” Steve asked. 

“Oh yeah, I’ve got a real clear shot.” Zooming her scope in, “Do we want him dead or alive?” 



Alive.” Steve growled. 

[Y/N] chuckled, “Alive it is.” Just as she was about to move her aim towards the man’s shoulder, she caught sight of a pair of eyes that she hadn’t seen in a long time. “No.” She whispered, low enough for her team members to not hear. 

“Hello? [Y/N] you going to take the shot?” Natasha asked, her tone a little annoyed. “He’s going to get away!”

Struggling to regain her focus, she desperately tried to get a good aim on him before he ducked down between two buildings. Cursing in her head, she yanked the rifle away from herself. Running her hands through her hair, she kicked the rooftop railing. “Steve, private talk, now.” 

In minutes, the kid she knew from Brooklyn was waltzing through the rooftop stairwell. His face was laced with concern and slight annoyance. “[Y/N]? What happened? You said you had a clear shot.” He removed his earpiece and turned it off, watching as [Y/N] did the same. 

[Y/N] inhaled deeply, her eyes staring up at the dark sky. “I never asked you about Bucky because I didn’t want to know.” 

Steve’s brows knitted together, he had always wondered why [Y/N] never asked about Bucky. At first, he thought it was because she didn’t remember but after she started to recall memories, it didn’t make sense why she didn’t ask about the man who swept her off her feet all those years ago. “Okay? I’m not trying to be insensitive right now, [Y/N], because I know how much Buck meant to you but why is this relevant?”

She ignored his question, “What did Bucky and I used to tell each other every single day before we left to go our separate ways?”

Steve could never forget, it was like clockwork every time they’d say goodbye or goodnight to each other. Steve had so desperately wanted a relationship like that, to look a girl and just have the words slip right out his mouth before he even thought about them. “Bucky would ask you to smile and he’d say, ‘you’ve got the best damn smile in this town, a smile I could never forget even if I tried.’ And you would follow with, ‘and you’ve got the best damn pair of blue eyes I’ve ever seen, eyes I will never forget in a million years.’”

[Y/N] smiled, trying to remember the last time they had shared those loving words. She wasn’t sure if he actually meant it, but she sure did. “I meant that, every single word.” 

Steve nodded, unsure of where this was going but not going to interrupt her trip down memory lane because perhaps this was why she missed the opportunity to shoot the Winter Soldier. If she needed to vent, Steve wasn’t going to stop her. “I know, and Buck did too.” 

“Steve, what exactly happened to Bucky?”

He inhaled, “Long story short and to spare you the details, he died during one of our missions.” 

[Y/N] turned away from him, looking at the spot where the Winter Soldier had just been. “What was the mission?”

“To destroy HYDRA bases,” Steve stepped forward, concerned. “[Y/N] why are you suddenly interested in this now?”

A tear slid down her cheek, as she turned to face Steve. “You and I are not the only ones who were frozen in time.” Inhaling deeply, she firmly spoke through her teeth. “The Winter Soldier is a ghost, Steve. It’s Bucky, I know because I saw his eyes.”

Kind of tempted to do a part two. Anyone interested? 

anonymous asked:

Hello, if you're still taking prompts could you do #33 with Marichat or Ladynoir? (BTW love your stories!)

This is horribly overdue. I’m so sorry this took so long, I was caught up with other stories, life, and just recently suffered a bad case of writer’s block :/ I picked the Ladynoir side of the love square (although it’s probably not in the way you’re thinking). Still, I hope you enjoy this :)

“Something about you makes me want to commit extreme violence.”

You may not know it, but being a noblewoman could be very difficult at times.

Such were the Lady Marinette’s thoughts as she finally managed to sneak away to the snack table. A young Lord had been trying to request a dance with her for the better part of ten minutes, causing her to nearly flee every time he came in her sights. Luckily, just when she thought she was cornered, she was able to pair him with her best friend.

“I’m going to kill you,” Lady Alya had silently mouthed when she was led to the dance floor.

Marinette giggled to herself as she swiped a chocolate chip cookie from the very top of the pile on the silver tray. Not many women were eating them in order to ‘maintain their figure’ but Marinette didn’t really care about that. She’d eat what she wanted, whenever she wanted.

She looked around at the sea of guests, at all the colorful masks that adorned their faces. Her parents decided to host a masquerade ball, thinking it to be romantic and mysterious. Marinette thought that the idea was intriguing, but she didn’t really think anyone to be romantic or mysterious. It was just like any other ball she’d been to, with no one in particular standing out among the crowd.

She wanted to tell her parents that real life was vastly different from fairy tales, but she knew it would crush their hearts, especially since they wanted her to have a whirlwind romance of her own.

Marinette sighed in defeat, resigning herself to picking out a stranger to dance with just to appease her hopeless romantic parents.

“Is the princess not having a good time?” a masculine voice teasingly drawled.

Startled, her head whipped around to see a man leaning against a nearby pillar. He wore the traditional finely-made garb befitting of someone of the noble class, yet it was completely black, save the swirling designs of green beside the buttons on the otherwise coal black jacket.

Around his equally green eyes sat a black domino mask, but with cat ears on the ends. His blond hair lacked a refined style, instead the golden locks were wildly tousled. However, instead of looking like a common vagrant, the look suited him perfectly.

His lips were stretched into a wide smile, a row of pearly-white teeth exposed in the process. She noticed the man had rather nicely chiseled features. This, combined with all his other traits, made him exceptionally handsome.

However, her heart was already taken.

“I am not a princess, sir,” she replied, a corner of her mouth arching in interest. She had a feeling that whoever this man was, he was going to prove to be riveting company.

“You could’ve fooled me, with how every man’s eyes are fixated on you alone,” he purred flirtatiously, abandoning his spot by the column to saunter closer to her.

She snorted in mirth, finding that she liked this stranger. Sure, his flirting was a little over-the-top, but it wasn’t at all creepy like how some lords spoke.

“I find that hard to believe,” she disputed with a grin. “It doesn’t matter anyway, since I’m not interested in any of them.”

“Too good for them?” he asked. His tone was still teasing, yet his eyes shined with something else. For a moment she thought it seemed like he was testing her, but she quickly wrote it off as paranoia.

“No, it’s not that. The person that I really want to dance with isn’t here,” she admitted. She had a mask on, so no one except for Alya knew who she really was. So she supposed it was okay to tell a few truths for one night, provided she was careful, of course.

She sighed, recalling how her statement had been all too true. Prince Adrien was far out of reach, and honestly she shouldn’t have expected him to show up to her modest estate, even if it was for a ball. She met him a few months ago when his father had invited all the noble families to a formal dinner, hers included.

They didn’t get off on the right foot, though.

When it was time for the dinner, she ended up being one of the last few to enter the dining room. She had been caught up in a conversation with Alya in the sitting room beforehand, delaying her arrival. When she did show, she was dismayed when she found a splash of red wine decorating the bottom of her cherry wood chair, with the Crown Prince himself squatting next to it.

Since she couldn’t berate him without receiving a harsh reprimand, she chose to coldly glare at him as she picked up a napkin from her place on the table to wipe it. Prince Adrien tried to stutter something out, something probably apologetic, but she silently rebutted every attempt for speaking.

Finally, when the dinner was over, it was discovered that it had started to rain. It was sunny before, so naturally no one brought umbrellas with them, thus resigning everyone to a wet and soaking fate.

However, right as she was about to step outside into the steady rain, the Prince appeared…with a black umbrella in hand. He explained that he was about to wipe off the wine when she had suddenly appeared. He didn’t try to soil her dress at all, and was simply in the right place (to clean the chair), but at the wrong time.

Hearing his honest words and expression persuaded her to forgive him. Afterward, he gave her the umbrella to use so she wouldn’t get wet.

And that was the moment when she fell in love with the sweet, unsuspecting prince.

They saw each other a few more times after that. He was just as friendly and amicable, but she could barely respond to him without embarrassing stutters and stammers. He was perfect in her eyes, so excuse her for being a little anxious to talk to him.

“Who do you admire that so rudely didn’t show up?” the stranger asked with a quirk of his lips.

She shook her head. There was no way she could tell anyone that she was interested in the Prince, mask or not.

“Sorry, but I can’t tell you that, Chat Noir.”

She supposed it was a good nickname; it suited him considering his attire. Besides, she couldn’t keep mentally referring to him as a stranger or just simply ‘he’.

“Chat Noir, hm?” he repeated, a far-away look appearing in his eyes as he stared above her head, a finger tapping chin in thought.

He grinned, returning his attention to her.

“I like it. Although I suppose you need a nickname now, too. How about…” he trailed off, inspecting her up and down to determine the perfect moniker. Abruptly he snapped his fingers, something that Marinette didn’t understand how he accomplished, considering he wore black gloves.

“Ladybug!” he exclaimed, smiling widely. “For your red dress and black mask. And it’s also perfect since black cats are a symbol of bad luck while ladybugs are for good luck. We’re like yin and yang, my Lady.”

The last two words rolled off his tongue in such an alluring way that caused the Lady’s heartbeat to momentarily quicken. With a light dusting of pink on her cheeks, she slightly shook her head, dismissing the sudden spike of attraction for him. ‘Chat Noir’ was just a charmingly amusing character, one that she didn’t romantically admire.

“Ladybug,” she echoed aloud, pursing her lips as she considered the potential identity. It wasn’t until a few seconds later that she seemingly decided, presenting Chat a coy smirk. “I like it.”

He mirrored her expression with a gleeful gleam of his own in his eyes.

“I knew you would,” he boasted in jest, straightening his shoulders and raising his chin in the air, giving off the appearance of a conceited aristocrat. She smiled and rolled her eyes when he placed a flattered hand over his heart. “Since everyone loves my ideas.”

“Really? And who would ‘everyone’ be?” she asked sarcastically, playing his game. “The other stray tomcats in the village?”

“My Lady, whoever said I was a stray? For all you know, I could be of royal pedigree.” His lips curved into a strangely unsettling smirk, as though he knew something she didn’t. “For all you know, I could be the Crown Prince!”

Marinette laughed, making sure to quickly press her lips together as she brought a hand to her mouth, trying to politely cover up the loud chortles. After all, it was rude for a well-bred lady to have her mouth wide open in laughter. Women were supposed to be demure and polite, always looking at their best.

She hated this social construct, yet she was doomed to follow through with its requirements anyway.

Once her giggles died down, she turned to face the grinning feline again.

“I’ve met Prince Adrien before, and I can confidently say that you’re nothing like him.”

“Indeed?” he remarked, almost sly.

“Yes, indeed,” she insisted with another giggle. “Prince Adrien isn’t like you at all.”

“And if he was? Would you admire him any less?”

Marinette visibly flinched, taken aback by his conclusion. With disbelieving eyes and reddened cheeks, she ducked her head down to avoid his eyes. How did he realize she had feelings for the Prince? This was bad, very bad…if he knew who she was he could tell Adrien, and then Adrien would never love her back and word would spread and she would become the laughing stock of the entire kingdom! She would be lonely for the rest of her life and die an old maid, while Adrien would pick a beautiful and worthy princess to marry…

She forced herself to take a deep breath through her nose.

Relax, Marinette. Maybe you could convince him that he’s wrong.

With that mental pep talk, she straightened her shoulders and faced him again.

“I don’t admire him, well, not more so than anyone else. I don’t admire him in the sense that you’re thinking of.”

“Really? Because from what I hear you do admire him, more so than anyone else.” He smirked wickedly, eliciting a nervous gulp from the stiffening maiden.


“The ‘how’ isn’t important,” he quickly dismissed with a careless wave of his hand. “What matters is the ‘why’. Why do you fancy Prince Adrien?” He clasped his hands behind his back before walking in front of her line of vision. She was positive that if they were alone, he’d be circling her like a hawk about to catch its prey.

“Is it for his riches? His looks? His palace? Or is it simply a matter of competition, in which you must win the grand prize?”

Marinette narrowed her eyes. Nevermind that this cocky feline somehow knew who she was (he didn’t say her name, but he had heard of her feelings for Prince Adrien, so therefore he must know her identity), but how dare he assume her affections were based on purely artificial things?

“Something about you makes me want to commit extreme violence,” she informed him, her tone hard as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“So it is true, then?” he guessed with a bitter grin, followed by a scoff. “I guess our dear Prince will forever be resigned to a life without true love. Pity, I heard he was interested in quite a lovely woman, too. Warm, kind, a bit clumsy, but beautiful inside and out. Tis a shame, although I suppose it’s very well that he caught himself before he fell completely.”

Marinette was now glaring daggers where Chat Noir stood, her teeth bared in an infuriated snarl. She ignored the jab to her heart from his mention of another woman that Prince Adrien was interested in, instead focusing her anger on his grave mistakes of her character.

“Now you listen here, Chat Noir,” she spat, pointing a finger to his chest. “My feelings for Prince Adrien are real, and not based on his title, or his riches, or looks. I didn’t even like him until I saw how kind, forgiving, and generous he could be. I love him for who he is as a person, not for what he could afford or what he could give me.”

She took a deep breath, her fury beginning to simmer.

“And while I know I have no chance of him ever returning my feelings,” she continued in a much less hostile tone than before, bordering on disheartened acceptance, “I just want to make it clear that I do truly care for him…even if he loves someone else.”

The man in front of her stared seemingly in awe at her words. His green eyes were blown wide as his cheeks gradually shifted into a rosy color. For a few, tense seconds all he could seem to do was peer at her with an emotion Marinette couldn’t place, his reaction garnering her confusion.

Why was he looking at her as if seeing her for the first time? It caused a shiver to run down her spine, a good thing or a bad thing, she wasn’t certain.

At last, he appeared to snap out of his self-induced trance, a corner of his mouth curling up in a fond smile.

“I apologize for making such inaccurate assumptions of your feelings, My Lady. I see now that I was in the wrong.”

He held out a gloved hand to her.

“Would you allow me to make it up to you with a dance?”

Marinette pursed her lips, not relenting on the glower she sent his way.

“How is a dance with you going to make it up to me?”

“Well, I’ve been told I’m an excellent dancer,” he boasted, shooting her a wink. “And I’ve been trained since early childhood in the art.” His smile faltered as his expression shifted from cheekiness to remorseful. “I really am sorry for making those false accusations about you. It was completely unjustified. Can you forgive me?”

Marinette sighed, her features relaxing in the process.

She supposed she could understand where he was coming from, since most girls only wanted Prince Adrien for his title or looks. How was he to know that she was different, that she didn’t care about that stuff?

Well, she did consider him to be the most handsome, gorgeous man she ever saw, but that wasn’t why she liked him.

Anyway, Chat was just making a conclusion most likely based on the Prince’s numerous, other female admirers. He was also quick to apologize once she informed him on how wrong he was.

She was set on dancing with Prince Adrien and him alone for the night, but it was obvious that he wasn’t going to show up. And, she’s been itching to dance…

“Alright, Chat Noir, I will dance with you. But you must promise me something first.”

A part of his forehead rose. She guessed he was raising an eyebrow at her request.

“And that would be?”

Her blue eyes hardened.

“You must promise not to tell Prince Adrien about my feelings for him. Swear to me you won’t!”

Chat looked baffled at her demand.

“But why-?”

“Because!” she hissed, pointing at him for emphasis. “He’ll reject me and then everyone will find out and then I’ll become the laughing stock of this kingdom for thinking I ever had a chance with him and then I’ll never be able to leave my house again! So do not tell him, understand?”

Chat, to her surprise and indignation, had the audacity to chuckle.

“I don’t know why you think he’ll reject you, you are a lovely woman.”

When she only blinked at his enunciation of the words, oblivious as to what he was getting at, he closed his eyes and sighed for a brief moment.

“Regardless,” he continued after he opened his eyes, flashing her a grin. “I won’t tell him. Cat’s honor.”

He placed his right hand over his heart as he made the vow, at the same time he raised his left in the air.

While she was skeptical of the sly expression he wore, he did promise not to tell Prince Adrien. She mentally scoffed, figuring he only had that look because he was only going to tease her throughout the night for her feelings.

“Very well, chaton. I’ll dance with you.”

His eyes shined with satisfaction, looking very much like the cat that got the cream.

The next day, after the hype from the ball had long ago worn off, Lady Marinette was pleasantly surprised to receive a letter addressed solely to her. She figured it to be from Alya, no doubt in order to berate her for leaving her to dance with a stranger.

The thought made her giggle before she accepted the note from the servant.

Only for the amusement to immediately die down once she observed just where the letter came from. With wide eyes and a new, nervous rhythm of her heart, she broke the wax seal and flipped the paper open.

Dear Lady Marinette,

I hope you are having a wonderful morning. I apologize for not being able to attend the ball your family hosted last night, for I was caught up with other duties. I hope you are able to find it in your kind heart to forgive me.

If you were not at all busy today, I was wondering if you would perhaps consider spending the afternoon with me at the palace. Besides having lunch and strolling around the grounds together, there is something I would like to ask of you.

This request is for you, and you alone, My Lady. Of course, you are free to decline, either the request or the visit, or even both if you so wish. Although, I will be honest with you, in that I very much hope you decide to come.

If you do wish to visit, please send word soon after you have made your decision. If not, please kindly disregard this note and I shall never bring up the subject again.

Sincerely Yours,

Adrien, Crown Prince of France

“Marinette?” Sabine asked whilst entering the dining room. Her head tilted in confusion upon seeing her daughter’s flustered state. “Are you alright? Who is that letter from?”

But her daughter couldn’t answer, for she promptly swooned and fell right out of her chair.

Don’t worry, she was fine and able to go to the palace xD

anonymous asked:

For the break-up AU, how about "i’ve seen you hanging around my apartment and i thought it was because you missed me, turns out you’ve been using my wifi you asshole"

Natsu has been hanging around her apartment lately. Now, usually, that wouldn’t bother Lucy. She used to love when he would hang out, used to love just having him near her. Used to. Not anymore. It’s been three weeks since their fight and he just keeps showing up, hanging around in the shadows, close, but not close enough.

And she’s mad. Not because she doesn’t want him around, but because he hasn’t said a word to her in three weeks. She knows she shouldn’t expect much, they broke up, after all, but there’s something painful that tugs at her gut every time she sees him just outside or right down the hall.

She’s mad because it keeps her clinging to that thread of hope that they might work things out.

And it’s stupid, she knows it’s stupid, but she can’t help it. Because why else would he be coming around? He lives clear across town. Works across town. His friends are across town. There’s no reason for him to be moping outside her door unless it means something, right? It has to mean something.

Because it certainly means something to her.

So when she sees him room her window, his body tucked against the wall and his head bent low, hidden, Lucy does something both very brave and very stupid.

She corners him outside.

There’s a flurry of movement as she shoves on a sweater despite the heat, not bothering to slip on a pair of pants over her bare legs before she storms out of her apartment. What would the point be? It’s Natsu. Her legs aren’t something he’s never seen before.

Hopefully he’d be seeing them up close again, very, very soon.

It’s not until she has him backed into a corner that she realizes the stupidity might outweigh the bravery. She also realizes she doesn’t really care, as he stares back at her, wide-eyed as his throat bobs with a harsh swallow.

And maybe she’s a little bit satisfied by the way his sharp eyes linger on her bare skin.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she snaps, arms crossing tightly over her chest. Her weight shifts from one leg to the next, and Natsu’s gaze jolts from her face to her hips, watching in apt fascination as they sway slowly. His lips part, and Lucy’s almost certain that his mind has gone straight to the gutter. She rolls her eyes. “Natsu!”

Green eyes snap up to meet hers, his face turning a magnificent shade of red that clashes terribly with his hair. Lucy watches as his blush spreads down his neck, only to disappear under his shirt as it dips to his chest. She knows exactly how far down that blush goes.

“Shit,” he swears under his breathe, hastily shoving his phone into his back pocket before throwing his hands up between them, clearly waiting for an explosion from her. “I’m, uhh,” he trails off, stumbling over his words, tongue-tied. She watches as he flounders for the right words, gaze snapping around the area, unsure where to look.

Lucy rolls her eyes, bare foot tapping in frustration. Her need for answers is currently outweighing her urge to make him squirm a bit. She can save that for later. “Just spit it out, Natsu,” she tells him, less harsh than before. Lucy sighs, shoulders sagging just the slightest.

Natsu notices, but doesn’t say anything, though his eyes do narrow just the slightest in concern.

He’s quiet for a long moment, and hope builds in Lucy’s chest. She holds her breath, dark eyes wide as she stares at him. Natsu wets his lips, swallowing thickly as he matches her look. His embarrassed blush grows darker, his fingers flex nervously.

“I’ve been using your WiFi,” he murmurs, ducking his head.

Lucy’s heart shatters in her chest, splinters ripping through her lungs until she simply can’t breathe. Hurt strikes her, and Lucy flinches back at the unexpected answer, her throat growing tight as the words register.

Her voice cracks horribly when she whispers, “what?” Her words wobble, and Natsu’s eyes snap back up to meet hers, hearing the tremor in her voice. Concern flashes in his gaze, and he takes a step forward before stilling once more. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, wanting to reach out for her, but holding back.

Natsu clears his throat. “I’ve been using your WiFi to watch Netflix,” he says, softer this time, less embarrassed and more confused as he watches her expression crumple and twist into something so heartbreaking that it rips the breath straight from his lungs. A fist squeezes at his heart when he sees her eyes grow wet, glinting with unshed tears.

“You’ve…” Lucy trails off, chocking on her words. God, she though— “I’m such an idiot,” Lucy murmurs, eyes squeezing shut tightly as she feels a stinging behind her lids, tears threatening to spill over. Crying is the last thing she needs right now, but she just feels so stupid for thinking he still gave a damn.

Of course it was just the WiFi. Why else would he be here?

The bravery and he stupidity leave her in a rush, her hands beginning to shake. She feels achy now that her courage is gone, weak and wobbly on her feet. She shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up, she knows. She should have known better, but God it still fucking hurts.

She didn’t think anything could have hurt more than when he stormed out of her apartment three weeks ago, but apparently she was wrong.

Natsu takes another step towards her, reaching out. “What?” he breathes back, staring at her with worry that’s palpable.

Lucy just shakes her head, throwing her hands up between them and letting out a short, bitter bark of a laugh. “Get the hell out of here, Natsu,” she tells him, voice more timid than she means it to be.

“Lucy?” he murmurs, taking a step, “what?”

“God, you’re such an asshole,” she snaps back. It’s unfair, she knows, to be mad at him for this. It’s her own fault. She can’t blame him for getting her hopes up, not when he hasn’t done anything.

Right now, she just needs someone to blame.

Not wanting to pick a fight, Lucy whirls around on her heel, wanting to run back into her house, but her legs feeling like lead beneath her, too heavy for her to move.

“Whoa, wait!” Natsu reacts quicker than anticipated. He scrambles forward, only a step behind her, and catches her by the wrist before she can get too far. “Lucy, wait!” She’s yanked around none too gently, but the pull on her arm is immediately forgotten when his hands come up to cradle her jaw, his head ducked down to meet her eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asks her, warm breath fanning across her face and mingling with hers.

She shivers against him, prompting him to pull her closer, but Lucy shakes her head.

Another laugh spills from her, but it sound more like a sob. Natsu flinches, leaning in so close that his nose nudges her cheek. “What’s wrong?” she asks him, forcing a watery smile onto her face. “I thought you were coming around because—” She chokes off, shaking her head rapidly.

Natsu goes rigid against her, torso pressed tight to hers so she can feel every muscle in his body tense. “Because I’m still in love with you,” he finishes for her, grip tightening on her jaw line, fingers pressing into her skin.

She worries her lip, unable to meet his eyes. “Like I said,” she murmurs, “stupid, right?”

His fingers tremble against her cheeks, as he tilts her head up to meet her eyes. “No,” he breathes against her, leaning in so that his nose bumps against hers. He swallows and she can hear it, can feel his nervous breath against her lips. “That’s not stupid at all.”

Drown Your Sorrows (Newt Scamander x Reader)

• prompt: reader gets jealous of tina and newts (friendship) and goes off and gets drunk
• word count: y do i even write this i never look it up
• warnings: drinking/alcohol & jealousy
(sorry for the lack of gif, tumblr is being heckin annoying atm)

• Drown Your Sorrows•

Y/N walks into the living room (of her shared apartment with the Goldstein sisters) balancing an impressing pile of various volumes on magical creatures she had spent hours showering through the archives- for Newt.
“Newt I-” Her face falls as she spots Newt and Porpentia curled up in front of the fireplace, going through his field journals. “Newt?” She asks softly, her voice cracking slightly as the two don’t take any notice of her presence, Newt speaking animatedly about his favorite creatures.
She ducks her head, leaving the towering pile of books on the smooth oak coffee table behind the two, holding her arms and turning to walk quickly out of the room.
Newt laughs, an occurrence that doesn’t usually happen, and Y/N freezes, holding her elbows, her back turned to the two, staring at the floor as a pang of burning emptiness shoots through her chest.
She quietly exits the room, sliding the door shut silently behind her, and just about walks into Queenie, who is preparing dinner in the kitchen.
The blonde takes one look at Y/N and her face softens, “Sweetie-”
“Please don’t read my mind-” Y/N mutters, staring at the floor, “Please!” She glares up at her friend and walks briskly to her room.

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Wait, You’re Not Together?

In which everyone sees the way they act around each other

Kara still claims they’re “just friends” and “it’s how friends act around each other”

Also on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10521051

Kara furrows her brows as she reads the text one more time.

Because after months (twelve months and thirteen days to be exact), Cat Grant (Ms. Grant) showed a sign that she’s alive, well and is, in fact, up to date on what’s happening in National City.

It’s a simple message, three lines, and Kara surely reads it at least four times and she still doesn’t get it:

10:25am – [received from Ms. Grant] – Just read your last article on L-Corp and Lena Luthor. I hope she treats you well.

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The Sleepover

I realized that although I put the link on here for the A03 fic, I never actually posted the fic on here, so, without further adieu, a Bughead Sleepover.

“Hey!” Betty crossed the short distance to where Jughead was sitting in a booth at Pop’s. “I was hoping I’d find you here.”

Jughead had seen Betty coming through the door and hadn’t been able to wipe the smile off his face since. He picked up his coffee and took a sip, then set it back in it’s place. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I have a surprise for you.” Betty smiled. She got back up and stood at the counter. “Hey, Pop? Could we get an order of french fries please?”

Pop Tate smiled and nodded at her, and Betty turned to sit down with Jughead.

Jughead stared at her for just a moment before laughing. “Well? Are you going to give me a hint?”

Betty returned his smile. “No, you’ll just have to wait and see.”

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anonymous asked:

Ladynoir 13? 👀

“Kiss me.”

“…Um. What.”

Ladybug threw back her head and laughed.

“That’s my price,” she said, ducking down with her hands behind her back, and it had the (probably intended) effect of doubling Chat’s blood pressure. “For one kiss, I’ll tell you one thing. Sound good?”

…Had he stepped into an alternate reality? Some other world where first patrols ended with beautiful partners asking him for a kiss?

“I. Y-yeah,” he managed, voice cracking tellingly. He cleared his throat. “‘Course, my lady.”

A glowing, beatific smile. “Then fire away, kitty.”

He swallowed around his heatbeat and tried to remember what he’d even wanted to ask her in the first place. “A-about next patrol…”

Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and suddenly that mouth was very, very dry.

“Uh…” he said, breathless. “D-do you… Did you want to…” He licked his lips, and then took another unsteady breath when she tracked the motion. “Where did you w-want to meet?”

Which wasn’t what he’d been wanting to ask, but anything more than a simple sentence was beyond him right now.

She hummed absently, the noise rattling behind Chat’s teeth, and leaned in. “Does the Eiffel Tower work for you?”

The gaze on his mouth was so intense he didn’t rightly know what the Eiffel Tower was, but he nodded anyway, and was immediately rewarded with a kiss.

The contact was sweet, short — barely three seconds of very, very soft lips pressing gently to his own — but it still left his entire body feeling like he’d touched a livewire instead.

Ladybug skittered back with a girlish giggle and shouted, “Thanks, Chat!” as she left.

Chat placed a shaking hand over his burning mouth and tried to remember where she’d said to meet next time.

is there going to be more of the flash-forward au where claire travels to the 20th century from the 18th? i really need to know what she makes of 20th century life! — kaitrionabalfe

Clutching the pillow to her chest, Claire watched as Jenny clattered about with her medical equipment. She hadn’t yet spoken about the date she’d seen scrawled on the windowsill, or her confusion about it but her body was too worn down to care too much –for the moment.

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“I could teach you.”

And Sherlock clears his throat.

Looks at the ground.

Tries to work out where, precisely, that suggestion came from- Since he certainly hadn’t meant to offer his teaching services today.

Molly’s blinking up at him, her expression startled. His heart is thudding rather loudly in his chest- So loud that he feels an odd terror she’ll be able to hear it. That she’ll be able to tell that, whatever his attempts at nonchalance, his last offer was far from casual. The urge to babble under her gaze is becoming almost overwhelming but he tamps it down, makes himself look at her-

When he speaks next, his voice is surprisingly even.

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My Little Prodigy.

//Jerome x Reader. Sorry this was kind of short, I’ve been pretty busy lately.

Requested: Yes.

Summary: Y/n is at the gas station, stealing food. While she is concentrated on the shelf, trying to decide what she is going to take, she hears a voice in her ear.

Title: My Little Prodigy.

Rating: Mid-Fluff.

Warnings: Murder, reader is depicted as a criminal who respects Jerome. Nothing too bad. //


Y/n ducks her head down more, trying to remain inconspicuous and unseen at the same time. She waves slightly at the cashier, while still keeping her face covered. She doesn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to herself, whether that’s by being too loud, or too suspicious. She walks leisurely over to the large rows of refrigerated goods and pretends to look at the drinks for a bit until the cashier looks away. Y/n ducks into the next aisle, and holds her breathe as she stares at the bags of chips and crackers in front of her, only taking a second to think about what she wants before she reaches out and silently grabs one of the smaller bags, moving to place it under her jacket. Before she has a chance to do that, she feels a hand on her shoulder, and feels someone press up against her back.

“Whatcha doing?” She shudders and turns around calmly, her gaze slowly dragging upwards until she meets his gaze. Y/n knows she recognizes the ginger from somewhere-she just can’t place it. Is it one of her school mates? Either way, she doesn’t want any trouble, and she definitely doesn’t want to have to explain herself to him.

“Get lost,” she mutters, attempting to push past him. He grabs her arm and pulls her back to where she was, casting a glance over to the cashier, who is now looking over in concern. He wraps his other arm around her, and brings his hand up to her face, cupping her cheek and leaning in close, resting his forehead on hers. The whole time he keeps his gaze over by the cashier, waiting for him to look away. He finally does, and the redhead’s gaze rips over to y/n’s, his blue-green eyes wide, and unblinking.

“Why the attitude?” He asks softly, pulling away and releasing her. “I was just being friendly, just wanted to talk.” His gaze travels down her body quickly before landing on the bag of chips. “Not worth stealing,” he states, grabbing it from her and placing it back on the shelf.

“What the hell?” Y/n asks, reaching to grab the bag once again. His hand shoots out and grabs her wrist.

“You got good technique, doll. Why waste it on those?” He pulls her back closer to him, still letting her stay at a comfortable distance. “You could do so much better, you could be so much worse.” He grins wildly, his eyes widening. “You have so much potential, doll. Don’t waste it on this…” His voice trails off as his eyes scans the aisle beside her, laughing softly.

“Maybe I just really like these damn chips.” Y/n snaps, glaring up at the boy. Who the hell does he think he is?

“I could get you anything you wanted- if you just come with me.” He whispers, his eyes twinkling as he laughs in amusement at her anger.

“Are you propositioning me? Well, forgot it! What the hell do I look like to you, some prostitute? Well, I’m not- and even if I was I wouldn’t go home with some-”

“Whoa, calm down doll.” He holds his hands up, chuckling softly. “I didn’t mean it like that, not at all.” He lowers his head and gazes at her through his lashes, his voice dropping instantly, his eyes taking on a darker gleam. “There’s so many whores around here, my mom was one herself, ‘till I killed her, that is. Trust me, I can tell a whore from a decent girl.” Y/n’s eyes wide as his face clicks into place.

“Jerome…Valeska?” She whispers, staring up at him in awe. He smiles and takes a step back, bowing slightly.

“In the flesh,” he murmurs, standing up straight and tilting his head. “My buddies are waiting outside for me…so, whaddya say?” He holds out his hand. She pauses for a moment before smiling brightly and grabbing his hand, trying to calm her beating heart.

“Let’s go.” They head out the door, drawing the attention of the cashier slightly. As the door shuts behind them, Jerome pauses, turning around to her.

“Wait here,” he says before ducking back into the shop and disappearing into one of the aisles. Y/n stares in confusion as he walks back over towards the door, something in his hand. The cashier says something to him, and places his hand on the phone, pointing to the bag Jerome is holding. He stares down at the bag, and throws one hand in the air, hitting his head as if to say, how dumb of me, and moves up to the counter, setting the bag down. With one hand, he reaches into the pocket, but in a split second his other hand grabs the gun that was hidden in the waistband behind his back and he points it at the man, pulling the trigger. He grabs the bag and rushes out, shoving the bag into y/n’s hands before pulling her into the already open doors of the van.

The door slams shut behind them and the van screeches out of the parking lot. Y/n stares down at her hands, and notices the bag of chips.

The chips she was going to steal.

“Why would you kill a man for a bag of chips?” Y/n asks, glancing over at Jerome and raising an eyebrow. He shrugs.

“You said you liked them.”

“So, you wasted a bullet killing a man, for a bag of chips that I said I liked?”

He looks over at her, grinning.

“Maybe I just really like you.”

1920 Lover

Okay… this was my first attempt at smut, pretty sure it’s not amazing. i have no idea how to describe it. The fic is as wild and untamed as the Jazz Age, a.k.a. my favorite period of American History. yes, it does take place in 1925, where my Fitzgeralds at?! i really hope you like it. Thank you for reading x

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anonymous asked:

Clarkes new suit wearing neighbour Bellamy!

He moved in the week she was out of town.  Clarke left when 6C was empty but when she came back there was a light on under the door and she could smell onions and garlic sautéing on the stove.  Her stomach grumbled and she dragged her suitcase down the hall to 6D, her keys in hand.

She didn’t see him for another week.  He was unlocking his mailbox, dark curls hanging into his face, with a suit that fit nicely across his shoulders.  Clarke watched him for a moment before shaking her head and snapping out of it.  He didn’t notice her, too wrapped up in flipping through his mail as he walked, and she allowed herself one more second to scope out his ass before opening her own mailbox.

So she had a handsome neighbor.  Big deal.  She’d lived with Luna, an actual mermaid goddess of the sea, for two years before getting her own place.  If she could handle that, she could handle seeing an attractive guy in the hallway every now and then.

Except Clarke had never really considered what a man in a well fitting suit did to her.  It wasn’t like, a thing for her usually, so it had never been a problem before. But whatever her neighbor did— she’d heard someone in the hallway call him Blake, but she wasn’t sure if it was his first or last name— apparently required suits that were, in her professional opinion, works of art.

Grey, navy, charcoal, or black— it didn’t matter the color.  Each and every one was tailored to fit him perfectly, showing off his shoulders and biceps.  His shirts underneath were always crisp and his tie neatly knotted below his adam’s apple, except for the unexpectedly warm April day when he walked into the lobby of their building with his jacket over his shoulder, his tie undone and his sleeves rolled up his forearms.

The hottness was so blinding Clarke had to look away.

But of course, that would be the day that he walked into the elevator and smiled politely at her.  “You’re 6D, right?” he asked as the doors hissed closed.

“Yeah.  I’m Clarke, by the way,” she said, and it was the strangest thing, but it seemed like he was avoiding making eye contact with her.  

“Clarke.  So that’s a first name, I gather?” he said, and his ears turned just the tiniest bit red as he hastened on.  “I heard someone call you that, but I wasn’t sure if it was your first or last name.  I’m Bellamy, by the way.  Bellamy Blake, so I get the same confusion.”  The last bit came out in a rush, like he was nervous.

Well, that certainly changed things.  Clarke bit back a smile and smoothed down the hem of her sundress.  His eyes definitely followed the movement and then lingered on her legs.  “First name, yeah.  Nice to meet you, Bellamy,” she said with just a touch of flirtation in her tone.

The elevator reached the sixth floor and they both stepped out.   “There’s a rooftop patio here, you know,” Bellamy said, spinning his keys on his finger.  They jingled and then he caught them in his palm, a shy smile flashing across his face.

“I know; I’ve lived here for almost a year,” she said.  “But I’ve never been up there before.”

“It’s nice out today,” he ventured and stopped at his door.

“It is,” she said, no longer fighting her smile.  

He grinned back and then ducked his head down.  “I might go up there later.  Enjoy the weather, and all.”

A pack of butterflies exploded somewhere south of her sternum, but Clarke kept her face steady.  “I might too.  Maybe I’ll see you there, neighbor,” she replied, and it took every ounce of her willpower not to skip down the hall to her door.

But she managed, because Bellamy was watching her the whole way.

Riverdale Preferences : Where they like to kiss you

✨I finally found time to write, so here’s this, and even though I don’t say this a lot, every single reblog and like I get, makes me so happy.So, reblogs and likes are much appreciated.✨


Your lips; To him, your lips were like irresistibly feather soft pillows that he desperately wanted to sink into. Your lips were often in a pout, and he gazed in wonder as those magnificent pillows of yours parted, he felt as if all the air was ripped out of his lungs. He adored the slope of them as he lazily traced a finger along their edges. He loved how your lips were never a blood red color, but rather a soft pink, like gentle roses. If you bit your lip, whether it be in confusion or on purpose, it took everything in him to keep himself from snatching the lip away with his teeth. The thing that he loved most of all was the way your lips fit together when you kissed. It was like the gods themselves had made them for each other, there were always intense galaxies in your minds. The vibrant stars contrasting against the velvet background. Kisses were what brought you closer, and what binded you together, in a hopeless situation neither of you ever wanted to escape from.


Your Chest; You were ridiculously insecure about your chest. At a young age, your boobs had delevoped majorly, you were a d cup by your freshman year of high school. Those thoughts practically sprinted away form your mind whenever Betty was determined to make you feel better. Most of the time, she would quickly throw you onto her bed, straddling your waist while peppering kisses all over your face. She would then duck her head down a bit and light nibble on your breasts through your clothes. You always had a moan ready for the action, although it never left your mouth when or how you intended it to. The buttons of your blouse were violently torn, the sound of them flying in all directions could be heard in every inch of the room. Betty made sure to drag her coarse tongue completely over the shape of your breast, catching a nipple in between her teeth once in a while.


Your shoulder and hand; The jagged bones of your body shivered, as you hadn’t been able to eat lately. You had episodes like this a lot, you were hungry, yet you had no appetite.You had been to countless doctors visits, but they could never figure out what was wrong. Veronica was always there for you at a moments notice, ready to head to your house and cuddle while you watched a movie but you wouldn’t really watch it. She would be there, lying on the scratchy couch with you as she pressed lazy kisses to your shoulder blades and your hands, slightly shuddering at how skinny you were. It was an action that comforted you greatly, her glossed lips on your hands and shoulders were all you needed to live. You didn’t want to even think about if something were to happen and that small sign of safety, was gone.You sighed in appreciation as you felt another kiss against your right shoulder blade, you would never get tired of that feeling.


Your neck; You were certain that Jughead had some sort of a neck fetish. Every chance that you two had, Jughead would literally attack your neck, hastily biting and sucking at the skin. Your neck was usually warm, so it didn’t help that Jughead made you feel like it was covered in flames. You didn’t mind though, there was truly nothing better than the feel of his lip gliding over the skin. It was his absolute favorite place to kiss you, ever since your fifth date. You had dinner at this really expensive Italian restaurant.You stared into each other’s eyes, neither of you noticing the sauce from your spaghetti splatter your neck. Jughead had later licked it off, leaving you severely hot and bothered. Jughead was quite aware of the effect the action had on you, so he used to his advantage. You were a bit annoyed with him for that, but he heavily ignored it.


Your forehead; Your skin was somehow always ice cold, you were cold natured and you couldn’t exactly say that you liked it. Reggie’s lips were unnaturally large, enough so that it reminded you of Sam Evans from glee. Those pair of lips never failed to soothe you or bring your temperature up. You also suffered from severe nightmares, due to the events that had occurred in town. Usually, you woke up screaming, thrashing around in your bed. Your door had several abrasions from Reggie throwing it open and rushing to help you. All it took to calm you was a simple peck on your forehead


Your Waist; Given that the gesture was a bit suggestive, it certainly doesn’t happen in public. You two would have to be in private, either in Cheryl’s room or Yours. Your pants would be pulled down only so that your hip bones were visible. Cheryl would lazily rest her head on the bones for a few minutes before she began to leave a series of gentle kisses along the edge of your left hip bone. She pressed light pressure against it with her tongue, licking her way back up again. She did the same to your right hip bone, and then she would repeat the process for awhile until she heard the hum of your light snoring. Your were always exhausted, applying for jobs and getting all your homework done was stressful. You usually went to sleep after the second kiss that was placed on your hip. Cheryl never failed to notice how gorgeous, even though you always were, when you slept. She would give a final peck to both hips before cuddling into your side and going to sleep as well.
“Stand For Something” - Aelin

This is an AU. 

She was light as a feather with the weight of worlds on her shoulders. In that moment she was nothing and everything. In that moment she was made of nothing and all of the elements.

She thrashed and bucked as Aedion squeezed her small frame, his face buried in her neck. He was muttering small words over and over against her skin, “Long live the King, long live the King, long live the King”

Aelin arched her back and she screamed as her mother said the words. She said the words that shattered everything she was made of. Evalin collapsed against Rhoe as the words tumbled off her lips,

“Sam is dead, fireheart”

Aelin looked in the mirror, her eyes red and dull. She swallowed, looking down at her hands. Her fingers were shaking and she gasped, covering her face. She couldn’t do this. There wasn’t one single part of her that was ready, yet she still felt a hand against her shoulder. 

“It’s time, milady” Aelin almost broke again, right there. Only Sam had whispered that word. Only Sam had spun her around and kissed her with everything he had, only to whisper in her ear, “I’m yours, milady”

Aelin closed her eyes. 

Laughter. What a blissful thing. They were meadows, having just had their picnic. Guards stood near by, but they ignored them. Sam smiled and he bowed deeply, holding his hand out. “May I have this dance, milady?”

They were so, so young. Their eyes still sparkled with an essence of youth and Aelin bowed deeply, fluttering her eyelashes slowly. She took her husband’s hand and let him pull her against his chest. 

It was then they swayed, Aelin’s face buried against his shoulder. Her arm was loosely wrapped around his neck, the other around his waist. Sam smiled and looped his arms around her waist in return, and they just slowly moved around in a circle. 

As one, together. The two of them. Nothing would break them, no matter how young they were, no matter how many people frowned down at their foolishness, they were still the Queen and King of Terrasen. 

“Milady? Lysandra bowed deeply and Aelin sucked in her breath, sliding on her lace black gloves. She watched as her wedding band, pure silver, disappeared under the fabric. She kissed her wedding ring gently, before nodding and setting her shoulders back.

She was queen. And it was time to put her king to rest. 

“He was a good man, milady,” Lysandra said as she led Aelin down the hallway. Aelin could hear the guards trailing behind her and her fingers went up to her hair, now flowing down her back. Too soon she had to do away with the married up-do she had worn ever since she married Sam. 

His death was only a short time ago and she was already changing. Aelin clasped her hands in front of her, pressing them against her abdomen. “I know he was,” She said as they turned the corner.

The night was particularly cold. The queen and king had been curled together, Aelin’s head buried in Sam’s chest. The blankets around them were a tangled mess, but they breathed as one. 

That was when the doors opened and Aelin was up in a moment. 

She was screaming the next. Men yanked her out of the bed and clamped their hands over her mouth, pinning her arms to her body, and holding her legs. They were suffocating her, too close, too unfamiliar. She couldn’t summon her flames.

Sam was up the next moment, but he already had a blade positioned at his throat. Tears were a steady stream going down the queen’s face and she screamed against the hand that was clasped against her mouth. 

The sharp tang of blood filled her mouth as she was slapped. She held her cheek and her lower lip wobbled. Someone grabbed her chin and she spat in their face, blood splattering. The man scowled and wiped it off slowly, “Girl-Queen and Boy-King”

Aelin would never forget his Adarlan accent. Her lips puckered as he pushed her cheeks in with his thumb and pointer finger, gripping hard enough to bruise. Aelin sobbed as she felt the fabric of her night dress move and Sam shouted. 

“The Boy-King dies,” Another snarled. Aelin sobbed and she screamed and thrashed as she was lowered onto her back. She arched her back as her wrists were pinned above her head, her ankles pinned to the ground. 

Her knees were bent and Aelin wriggled and bucked, trying to break free. “The Boy-King dies” The first man snarled, his fingers going down to his waistband. That was when Aelin heard the guards. The men froze as she trembled, then they were gone. 

Out the window. She hoped they fell to their deaths. 

Aelin got to her feet and she stumbled to the bed, before letting out a scream. She jumped into the bed, now stained and wet with red, pulling Sam’s head into her lap. “Get help! Help me! Please!” Aelin screamed. 

Her hands trembled as she pressed down on the wound in her husband’s abdomen. She screamed and buried her face in his neck, muttering prayer after prayer, to Mala Fire-Bringer, to Brannon, to anyone who would listen. 

Her husband stroked her hair, fully aware it was the last time he ever would. 

“Aelin,” Her cousin ripped her out of her thoughts and Aelin looked up. She struggled to swallow and let out a loose breath as Aedion wrapped his arms around her, hugging his widowed cousin. 

“The queen will be ahead shortly,” Aedion said dismissively. The guards bowed and they walked forward down to the other end of the corridor. But Lysandra stayed. Aedion paused and he looked at the girl, before raising an eyebrow. 

Lysandra bowed as low as she could go before scurrying off after the guards. Tears streamed down Aelin’s cheeks and Aedion quickly brushed them, kissing her cheek with a ghost of a touch. “He’s at peace now”

“Don’t fill me with soft lies and half comforts,” Aelin waved him off. She looped her arm with her cousin’s and began to walk once more. Though her legs felt like jelly and she wanted to vomit until she could no more, she made it outside. 

“Baby girl,” Evalin pressed her fingers against her mouth. Aelin put her hand up, silencing her mother. They were outside now. The whole continent was watching, waiting to see what the girl-queen would do. And she would show them exactly that. 

Aelin silently motioned for her parents to get behind her. She squared her jaw and let Aedion lift her sideways onto her horse. She let loose a small, private breath before the horse began to move. 

Aelin lifted her chin and she lowered her veil as they passed through the first of three towns they would pass. Aelin looked forward, not watching the people. They wailed for their king, her husband; they threw flowers and sent prayers to the gods. 

Aelin wanted to snarl the gods weren’t listening. But she stayed silent as they traveled through all three towns, her head bowed. But she was strong, because the people needed to believe their queen would get through this, even if she didn’t believe it herself. 

All too soon Aedion was pulling her down from her horse. She squared her shoulders yet again and waited for her parents and Aedion to fall in line behind her. 

Then the queen began to walk, she began her parade, to go bury her husband. 

She was wearing a white dress. The brightest and purest dress she had ever seen. And Sam couldn’t stop grinning. He was grinning so hard, his dimples dug into his skin. And Aelin giggled behind her hand. 

She had sworn she would marry for love and that’s what she was about to do. She would not marry for an alliance, she would not marry for power or a foothold into another kingdom. She would not marry Crown Prince Dorian Havilliard. 

She would marry Sam Cortland or she would not marry at all. 

And she was having her way. Though neither of them save themselves getting married at sixteen and seventeen, it was nothing short of perfect. Aelin kissed her parent’s cheeks and she grinned at Aedion, who in turn gave her two thumbs up. 

That was when she began to walk. Again, the whole continent was watching. And Aelin intended them to give all of them both her middle fingers as she married the love of her life. 

She was walking to Sam, and Sam was walking to her. They met in the middle and Aelin’s heart fluttered. She reached out and grasped Sam’s hands. “I do,” Aelin said after their minister said his holy words. “I do, I do, on this earth and the next, in this megauniverse and those that come after it, on this continent or at the bottom of the ocean. I take Sam Cortland, no one else, to be my husband. To hold my heart in his hands, to hold me in his arms”

Sam just grinned. “What she said,” He muttered softly. Aelin laughed and she looked back at the minister, an eyebrow raised. 

“I now pronounce you, wife and husband” 

Aelin pulled Sam down and she dipped him immediately, kissing him. The people gasped, but Aedion hollered, clapping. Sam laughed and he held Aelin’s head, fingering her hair, letting her dip him and kiss him. 

Aelin laughed and she stumbled a bit as Sam stood back up. His cheeks were flushed and he fixed her hair, brushing her cheeks and holding her face. “Good gods woman, I can’t wait until you do that again,” He grinned. 

Then they kneeled. And then they let crowns rest on their heads. And then they were queen and king. 

Aelin touched her lips. She was already next to the solid black casket. She pressed her hands tightly against her lips, and blinked rapidly behind her veil of black. Of mourning. Of death and destruction and a broken heart. 

Aedion gently pressed her back, giving her comfort. Aelin nodded and she clasped her hands in front of her, staring at her people. The lords and lordesses, the dukes and duchesses, they were here to mourn their king, and support their queen. 

In the front row Aelin saw Cal and Marion Lochan. Elide wore a black dress, lace flowing at the cuffs. Tears ran down her cheeks and she ducked her head into her father’s chest. Aelin wished she could do that, but she couldn’t. She had to be strong. 

Aelin swallowed and she bowed. She bowed for her king. Her knees pressed against the black fabric laid down for her. She pushed her entirely lace dress out, and she lifted her veil, her black morning crown settle on her golden head. 

Aelin leaned down and she pressed a soft kiss to the black casket. She ran her hand across it slowly and the people held their breath as their queen said goodbye to her king. Aelin moved her lips against the casket, “I miss you so much. But I will have our revenge,” Aelin snarled the word before she stood up, looking at her people once again. 

She felt like screaming. 

“Sam is dead, fireheart”

Aelin ran. She ran in her pale green nightgown, soaked in her husband’s blood. Aedion called after her then ran after his cousin. The guards turned away, pretending not to notice as their queen broke down. 

She ran into the throne room and narrowed her eyes on the Adarlan flag. She rushed over and gripped it, before ripping it to the ground. Aelin couldn’t breathe as she ripped down the Fenharrow, Melisande, and Ellywe flags. 

She spun around, Sam’s blood drying on her skin and she screamed, her throat spasming. Her voice cracked and she fell to the ground, screaming and sobbing. He was gone, he was gone and she could not bring him back. 

Then the flags burned. And the Adarlan one was first. 

“We stand here as a country in a terrible situation. Men broke down our walls and took our king,” Aelin’s voice did not waver. She stared her people, begging them to call to action. “They tried to ruin your queen and they killed your king. They killed my husband, my king, they killed Sam Galathynius”

Aelin clasped her hands tightly behind her back. She lifted her chin and swallowed. Her eyes stung with tears, but she willed them away. “My husband is dead. Our king is dead. But our nation is strong, power, and ruthless. Yet we are kind, loving, and prosperous. We will mourn and then we will be better than ever. Let my husband be a martyr, let him mean something” 

As one her people stood, then they bowed. They bowed to their queen, to their dead king, and to what they meant. Aelin slowly lowered her veil and she pulled her skirts out, a show of recognition to her people.

Then she turned away and stood by Aedion as her husband was put to rest in the Galathynius family tomb. Aelin looked away as the doors closed. She grabbed Aedion’s hand, her lace gloves brushing against his callouses. 

“They will get what’s coming to them,” Aedion whispered so softly, no one heard but her. Aelin looked up and Aedion gave a small nod. 

“They will give you a year of mourning,” Aedion said, clasping Aelin’s shoulder. She stood a little taller and stared at her cousin, power booming in those Ashryver eyes. “They will give you until you are seventeen, Aelin, then you will be forced to court and soon marry again. No one will interrupt your mourning. A year, Aelin, one year”

Aelin nodded and she took the black suit, the cloak, the dagger, and the parchment. She opened the parchment and read through it, before she reached a name. “Celaena Sardothien,” The queen whispered. This was who she would become after she put her husband to rest. 

She would become ruthless, she would become a blade, she would become the Adarlan assassins who had punctured her husband through his abdomen. And she would find them, she would look them in the eye. 

And she hoped they would recognizing the Girl-Queen that stared at them. Because she would be the last thing they ever saw. 

“Get revenge for my king, my brother,” Aedion said, his eyes hard. Aelin bowed to her cousin, and then Aedion bowed back. They clasped arms and shared a cruel smile. Then Aelin turned around and she left the General Commander’s office, ready to complete her mission. 

Now Aelin turned away from her people, to the Galathynius tomb, a trail of black lace following her. She walked slowly, seconds and seconds going by between each step. She slowed down her breathing as she slowly lifted up her veil. 

The Queen of Terrasen stared to the sky, and her eyes hardened. She pressed her fingers to her lips, and then she turned south, looking straight at Adarlan. She gave a wicked smile a queen would never have, “My name is Celaena Sardothien, and I will not be afraid”

“But you will be. I am ruination,” She growled, before lowering her veil. She would have her revenge. She would have it and she would enjoy every second of it. 

katchyalater  asked:

1) you are a treasure and a gift and #goals and thank you for writing for this fandom!!! 2) idk if you're still taking prompts? I was thinking... we've all read nude model!bellamy for clarke's art class, but what if *she's* modeling for his beginners class or smth? Extra points if he gets flustered/tries to get her to cover up & she gets offended. (feel free to keep or ditch any of this. if you write it, it'll rock!)

A|N: Yikes kacka I’m so SORRY! This took forever to write (because college is Terrible) but I really hope you like it!


The irony of the entire situation is that Bellamy doesn’t mean to see Clarke Griffin naked. It happens because she asks him to.

As it turns out, figure drawing isn’t one of his required modules— but he needs to fulfill his art credits and Clarke assures him that it’s a guaranteed easy A, so he takes it anyway. Her presence is an added bonus, of course, but he doesn’t tell her that. (She’ll just get all smug and insufferable, and his crush on her is painfully transparent as it is.)

So he’s expecting her to be waiting- easel ready and pencils in hand- when he strides into class five minutes late; fumbling with his bag strap as he sweeps a glance over the room. There’s no sign of her, and he’s about half a second away from relenting and finding a seat instead when he sees a familiar flash of blonde—

Gaping, he scrambles to grab at the coffee cup that nearly tumbles out of his grip and onto the floor, wincing at the rush of heat that races up his fingers.

Because Clarke isn’t seated behind an easel— she’s by the front of the room, plopped on a stool and donning a bathrobe that really doesn’t leave much to imagination.

Keep reading

She Doesn't Deserve You

Requested?: Yes

Derek Hale x reader, motherly figure! reader x Liam Dunbar

An Idea for a pack mom imagine where Liam tells the reader and Derek (He lives with them as they took him in so they are like his new mom and dad and they also have a little boy ages 2 so him and Liam would be close) about Hayden and she sees that he really her but Derek gets a funny feeling about her so the reader tells Liam to invite Hayden over the loft and they’re both upstairs and Derek lays on the bed overhearing the conversation and he hears Hayden flirting with Liam and she says they should do things and Liam gets uncomfortable & Derek runs downstairs with the reader behind him & sees Liam saying no Hayden slaps him across the face and then the reader sees it too and Derek tells Hayden to leave slightly growling and the reader goes to comfort Liam and he jumps into her lap and she rocks him in her arms and Derek also comes and comforts him and jokingly says “shall I rip her throat out with my teeth?” And the reader glares at him whilst trying to comfort Liam. Thank You!

This was a long request lol But I tried. Like I said, I’m not good with endings but I feel like it’s okay. Send me feedback and or requests. I know I have either two or three more left, but these keep me busy!
ALSO, who here does not like Hayden? Sometimes I think I’m the only one lol

Warnings: idk hayden tries to do the nasty with Liam but Liam is a gentleman and says no?

enjoy xx

You had just finished up dinner when Derek walked through the door with Liam. Liam set his bag down by the door and made his way over to his “baby brother”, Tyler (in quotes because they’re not really related but Liam loves him as a little brother anyways) ,who was contently sitting in his high chair. He greeted Tyler with a kiss which made the baby giggle and greeted you with a hug.

                All of you sat down at the table and started eating dinner. You fed Tyler little pieces of food when you decided to start asking about Liam’s day, “So, Liam, how was school today?”

                He stuffed his face and continued to talk while he chewed, “I met this really cool girl, her name is Hayden.”

                Normally, you would’ve scolded Liam for talking with his mouth full, but you couldn’t help but be excited for him, “Ohh, do you like her?”

                He ducked his head down and you could see a blush on his face, which caused you to smile.

                “Nothing to be embarrassed about, Liam.” You assured him by rubbing his shoulder, “Why don’t you invite her over tomorrow for dinner?” You looked at Derek for reassurance but he had a strange look on his face that you couldn’t figure out. “Right, Derek? Hayden is welcome here.”

                “Yeah…” He said as an afterthought and slowly nodded, “Invite her over tomorrow, it’s fine.” Derek replied, the look on his face gone. You reminded yourself that you’d ask him about it after dinner.

                After that, the conversation went to lacrosse and when Liam was going to start. He was super excited to be on the team with Stiles and Scott. Everyone finished dinner and you and Derek started gathering the dishes while Liam took Tyler to the living room to keep him company while he did homework.

                “That was a good steak, (Y/N).” Derek complimented as he took the rest of the plates from you and started filling the sink up with warm water to start dishes.

                “Thank you,” You bit your lip and asked, “Hey, what was the weird look about?”

                He furrowed his brow, as if he didn’t know what you were talking about. This prompted you to roll your eyes and remind him.

                “The look you gave me when I said it was okay for Hayden to come over tomorrow.”

                The lightbulb came on and Derek nodded slowly, “I just don’t have a great feeling about her, (Y/N).” Was all he said before you slightly pushed his shoulder.

                “I think you’re just nervous because your oldest likes a girl.” You teased with a smile on your face.             

                He chuckled and pulled you to him, “Maybe I am.” Derek agreed and pulled you in for a kiss. You pulled away and let him start the dishes.

                “It’ll be fine, I’m sure this feeling will pass.” You assured him, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his torso.


                The next day came and you spent the day with Derek and Tyler while Liam was at school. You hoped he had the balls to invite Hayden over. You cleaned the loft and started making dinner around 4-5pm-ish. You decided to make chicken alfredo.

                Derek was slicing the vegetables and you were stirring the alfredo noodles when Liam and who you assumed was Hayden walked in. You put down the wooden spoon and greeted both teenagers at the door. Liam the first to introduce, “Hayden, this is (Y/N). She’s like a mom to me. Her and Derek took me in as their own.”

                Hayden stuck her hand out with a polite smile, “Nice to meet you, (Y/N). I’m Hayden.”

                You returned the polite smile and shook her hand, “A pleasure, nice to meet you.”

                Liam smiled, getting excited that his mother figure and possible girlfriend seemed to get along with each other. He led her over to Derek, who wiped his hands on a kitchen towel. “And this is Derek, he’s like a dad to me, although he still kinda scares me.”

                The girl nodded and reached out her hand to Derek, “I’m Hayden, nice to meet you.”

                Derek shook her hand with a firm grip, she smiled a little uncomfortably and was relieved when he let go. “Likewise.”

                Liam looked between you, Derek, and Hayden before telling him that he wanted her to meet Tyler, who he proudly claimed as his baby brother. He took Hayden’s hand and led her to meet Tyler, who was sitting in his high chair playing with his toys.

                You returned to your cooking and Derek returned to his veggie chopping. “See, she doesn’t seem so bad.” You told him, hoping he wouldn’t bring up his “feeling” again.

                Derek shook his head and finished up the vegetables, “I don’t know, (Y/N), there’s just something about her that I don’t like.” He kissed the side of your head and rubbed your shoulder. You picked up the pot to drain the water when you started getting the bad feeling too. You shook your head and just hoped it was nothing.


                Dinner went by with a breeze. You found out a lot about Hayden, like how she was the one who help pulled Liam’s math grade up. How she and her sister moved here so her sister could pay for Hayden’s kidney pills that prevent rejection of a new kidney.

                In your stomach, you felt like you liked Hayden, but there was a nagging feeling about her that you couldn’t shake off.

                After everyone ate, you decided to get Tyler ready for bed. While Derek washed dishes and put stuff away, you gave your baby a bath and put him to sleep for the night. You checked on Hayden and Liam when you put Tyler in his crib. They were doing homework and you smiled to yourself, maybe the feeling was nothing…

                You and Derek decided to lounge on the couch and watch TV. You basically laid on him while he held you. Both of you decided to “watch” Grey’s Anatomy, by watch I mean, you telling him a story and him listening. While you were getting to the good part in your story, Derek stopped you. “Shh.” He concentrated on listening while you couldn’t hear anything. Damn your human ears.

                “What? Is it Tyler?” You whispered, getting a bit worried. You sat up, ready to bolt into his room if need be.

                Derek shook his head no and whispered back, “Liam and Hayden.” He quietly got up and you followed suit.

                Both of you quietly made your way down the hallway until you could hear the conversation with your own ears.

                “I really think we need to move this to the next level, Lee…” You heard Hayden say, a little too seductive for her age.

                You could tell Liam was hesitant when he answered, “But I don’t want to, I like us as friends.”     

                “But don’t you want to be more than friends?”

                “I do, but I think you’re moving too fast, Hayden. I don’t want to ruin this.”

                Your heart melted knowing you somewhat raised a gentleman.

                Hayden scoffed, “Liam, c’mon. We could do this.” She climbed on to straddle his lap. Her fingers reached up and took a soft hold on his chin. She leaned into give him a kiss but Liam wasn’t having it.

                Her lips touched his and he pulled away, “Hayden, no.” He firmly said and tried to push her off.

                You and Derek moved to stand in the doorway, and you two did it at the right moment. As soon as you stepped into view, you saw Hayden slap Liam across the face. You gasped out loud and Derek immediately growled at Hayden, “Get out.”

                She tried to defend herself, “But I-“

                “Get out. Now!” He boomed. It was enough for the girl to climb off of Liam, grab her bag and run out the door.

                Hayden pushed past you and Derek followed her to make sure she left. You went over to Liam to comfort him. You sat down at the edge of the bad and he jumped into your arms, tears falling down his face. He apologized to you about Hayden.

                “No, sweetheart, no.” You whispered as you ran your fingers through his hair. “You told her no and she didn’t listen. She should be apologizing, not you.”

                “But I feel like it was my fault.”

                “You did everything right, Liam. She just doesn’t deserve you. I’m so proud of you for standing up to her like that, sweetheart. You did good.” You pulled him close and rocked back and forth with him to calm him down.

                Derek walked into Liam’s room and sat down opposite of you and Liam. He had a smile on his face and jokingly said, “I can rip her throat out for you.”

                You glared at him, “Derek.” You hissed and swatted at him. But you smiled slightly, knowing he meant well for Liam.

                He helped comfort Liam and Derek said again, “No seriously, I can rip her throat out with my teeth if you want me to.”

                “Derek, you’re not helping.”

                “I’m trying!”

                “Offering to rip throats out is not helping.” You glared at him.

                Derek was quiet and didn’t say anything. “It’ll help a bit.” He finally said.