with her head ducked down

Kiss and Tell

Fandom: My Hero Academia
Characters/Relationship: Katsuki Bakugou, Ochako Uraraka, Kacchako
Genre: Gen/Romance
Rating: G
Length: 2384 words
Summary: Their lips brushed during a spar. It was an accident.

(basically, my take on the ‘accidental kiss’ trope)

[AO3]


It happened during a spar.

Uraraka quickly dodged Bakugou’s right hook, fist barely grazing her cheek as she moved out of range. She reached out to grab his outstretched hand, but he spun around before she could, seeing her strategy and crushing it with an explosion to the back. 

She grunted at the pain but refused to go down–she used the smoke to her advantage and put her training from Gunhead to good use; she locked her arms around his, using all her body weight to throw him overhead, catching him off guard–and before he could react, his back hit the ground with a resounding bang, the wind knocked out of his lungs. As he gasped, she took the chance to sit on his chest, pinning him down with her knee. 

Bakugou struggled against her grip as she tried valiantly to hold him down. 

“It’s not over yet, Uraraka!” He shouted, glaring with sharp eyes and quickly shoving her off of him, knocking her off balance. 

Soon, they devolved into wrestling each other on the ground, pushing and shoving and kicking, each trying to get the upper hand, victory just within grasp, until–

Their lips brushed.

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She was breathtaking. She would never think so herself, but man she drew every eye in the room. 

They way her dark blue dress clung to her curves, and the smile she was wearing made her eyes sparkle in the dim lighting. 

Shawn was watching her from across the room. He would feel his chest tighten when she would laugh for smile at someone else. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was jealous. Jealous of the fact that he wasn’t the one making her laugh or smile like that. 

He was hating that he got to walk in, with her on his side, and then had to split up during the party because he had to meet with the record label President. 

She understood, knowing that Shawn had to talk up the new album. He had to do his job, this was just a part of it. 

But she wished that he was here to hold her to his side, hand on her back, while this creepy guy spoke to her. Well not to her, more like, to her breasts.

Shawn noticed, he noticed how every man looked at her in the room. It made his blood boil, she was his and not anyone else’s. He hates that others even get to see her like that. 

He’s biting his lip as he watches her from across the room. 

“Shawn?” Is what pulls him from his glare.

“Hmm what?” He asks looking over at Andrew.

“Are you paying attention? They asked how the third album is coming along?”

“Oh yeah, it’s going good. I just wrote a new song with Geoff, hoping to record it this week.” He nods, letting his gaze fall back to her. 

He starts fiddling with the ring on his middle finger, taking in deep breaths as the man she is talking too moves in closer. 

“Where is Geoff?” Andrew asks. 

Shawn ignores the question. Eyes going wide, and angry as the man moves forward, grabbing her arm. 

She looks scared, Shawn can tell from the look on her face. The man pulls her closer to him, he’s right in her face. She’s trying to push him away but he’s got a tight hold on her arm. 

“What the fuck.” Shawn growls as he pushes past the crowd, rushing to get to her. 

She’s looking around, hoping someone will see what is going on. Hoping to find Shawn. She can’t find him anywhere. 

The panic in her chest rising, this guy just won’t let go and he’s starting to hurt her. 

“Let go of me!” She screams as he puts both hands on her. 

“Let go of her!” A yell comes from behind her making her flinch. 

“I think you need to mind  your own business.” The man glares at Shawn.

“She is my business, you need to let her the fuck go.” Shawn growls.

“Get lost man, I grabbed her first. I’ll let you have your turn when I’m done.” 

“Y/n duck.” Shawn said. She did as told and ducked her head, looking down. 

All she heard was a rush of air and the crack of someone’s nose. The tight grip on her arms is released and she moves away from the guy. 

He’s on the ground clutching his mouth and nose, blood gushing every where. She looks over at Shawn who is shaking out his right hand and breathing hard. 

“Shawn what the fuck?” Andrew yells. 

“Don’t.” She squeaks trying to warn Andrew to back off and let him cool down. 

“Shut it.” Andrew says putting a hand up in front of her face. “Shawn,” He starts, angry.

But Shawn has had enough of people treating his girl with disrespect. 

“What the fuck did you just say to her?” Shawn snaps, getting into Andrews face.

“Shawn don’t do this.” She pleads trying to grab at his arm.

“No what did you just say?”

“Shawn, let’s go for a walk. Cool you down.”

“Y/n, I need you to let go.” Shawn says lowly, moving his gaze to her. 

“Shawn.”

“I’m too heated and I don’t want to hurt you, let go.”

“Stop it, you’d never hurt me.”

“Y/N I SAID LET GO.” He snaps at her. She flinches and backs away, he’s never yelled at her like that before. 

“Shawn!” She says covering her mouth. He looks over at her, about to yell again. But the words get caught in his throat as he notices the scared look on her face. The face she made when the man was grabbing her, she was staring at him like that. 

“Y/n, baby I’m so sorry.” He snaps back to reality starting to walk to her.

“No, stop.” She says shaking her head. She lets a tear fall and walks away from him. 

“No! Y/n.” He chases after her.

By the time he catches up with her, she’s already in the car, driving off without him. 

“Geoff.” He calls as he sees Geoff across the way. “I need your car.” He yells sprinting to him.

“Why?”

“Don’t start with me, give me your fucking keys.” Shawn says holding out his hand. 

Geoff knows something is seriously wrong, and digs into his pocket throwing the keys into Shawn’s hand. 

Shawn runs to the car, starting it as soon as he can. He has to find her and apologize. He never ever wanted to see that look on her face again. He can’t believe he snapped on her like that. 

He throws the car in park next to the one she drove home, rushing up the stairs to the apartment. He opens the door, surprised it isn’t locked. 

“Y/n?” He calls out. 

No response. 

His heartbeat beating out of his chest. 

He can’t lose her.

“Y/n?” He calls out again. 

He’s walking around the apartment trying to find her. He stops in front of their master bathroom. 

He can hear her crying. He goes to open the door, but this one is locked. 

“Baby.” He sighs against the door. “Open the door please.” 

“Go away.” She whines. 

“No, Baby, please talk to me.” 

“Please Shawn go away.” She says, sobbing. 

His chest clenches and it feels like his heart is ripped out of his body as he can hear her sobbing on the other side of the door. He hates that he can’t hold her, rock her back and forth. 

“I’ll wait Baby.” He sighs. He hears her sigh and choke back a sob. He turns and leans his back on the door. 

He wipes his face and closes his eyes as he starts to cry himself. 

An hour passes and he slides down the door, sitting on the floor with his back and head against the door. The sobbing stopped and he’s pretty sure she’s fallen asleep but he’s true to his word. 

He’ll wait. 

He’s wiping his tears as the door clicks and opens. Before he can respond he falls back, as the thing holding him up moves, and he hits his head on the floor.

“Jesus Shawn are you okay?” Y/n crouches down to check on him. 

He looks up at her with a small smile.

“So much better now.” He whispers letting his hand cup her face, using his thumb to wipe her dried tears away. She closes her eyes leaning into his hand. “I’m so sorry Baby, I don’t even know what the hell I was doing. I was so angry that that guy touched you, I’m sorry about that too.” He starts rambling.

“Stop, stop, Shawn, stop.” She hushes him. He sits up, as she sits on the floor in front of him. She crosses her legs and he does the same, letting his hands rest on her thighs. 

“No, I should have been there with you the whole time. I should have stepped in when I saw the guy approach you.” He sighs. “I shouldn’t of hit him, but all I saw was red. Especially when he spoke of you like you were a toy or some shit.” He shakes his head. “I lost it, he treated you so wrong and you didn’t deserve that. I couldn’t help myself, I had to punch him. He had to know that what he was doing was wrong.”

“Shawn, I’m not angry at you.” She stops his rambling by putting her hands on his face. 

“But you should be.”

“Why? Because you stood up for me? Because you punched a guy that was talking about sexually abusing me?” She spoke truthfully. His jaw clenches and he closes his eyes as she says that. 

“But I don’t,”

“No, you listen to me. I love that you get jealous. I love that you stand up for me at all times. I love that you’ll punch a guy and not worry about the consequences just because he spoke disrespectfully to me. Shawn I love that side of you, I love you.” 

“Stop, don’t say that.” He sighs. 

“Shawn?” She asks confused.

“No I scared you. I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe I snapped at you like that. I was just so mad, and then Andrew started to get in on it. He should never speak to you like that. But the look on your face.” He sighs covering his face with his hands. “Jesus Y/n I can’t get the look on your face out of my head.” 

“Shawn.” She grabs his hands, moving them away. He closes his eyes, not looking at her. “Look at me.” She says softly. He shakes his head. “Shawn look at me.” She says again.

“No Y/n.” 

She’s lost her patience.

“Dammit Shawn, look at me!” She raises her voice at him. He looks up, searching her face. “Shawn, I should have listened to you. You told me to let go. I knew how heated you were, I knew it. I was just trying to get you away from the group. I didn’t want you to do something you would regret. I just wanted you to calm down for a second.” She explains. “I knew it, I should have listened. Tried to get into your head in a different way.” 

“I did do something I regret.” He sighed.

“What did you do Shawn? When I left what did you do?”

“When you left? What no. I regret snapping at you like that. I have never yelled at you, ever and all of the sudden it happened.”

“Shawn it’s okay.” She tried.

“No, it’s not. I wasn’t me, I couldn’t see straight.”

“Shawn.” She crawls into his lap. “Stop it’s okay. I know that, I wasn’t crying because you yelled at me. I’m a big girl, I can be yelled at without crying. All my emotions hit me at once. Yes your yelling didn’t help, but it’s like the situation finally clicked in my head. That guy was trying to grab me and take me, and I freaked.” 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing.” 

“No I’m so sorry. I can’t lose you.”

“You aren’t gonna lose me, ever. Shawn I love you” 

“I love you too.” He smiles weakly.

“How’s your head?”

“Can you kiss it and make it better?” He teases. She smiles and kisses the top of his head. 

“All better?”

“It hurts here too.” He taps his lips. She laughs and leans in and connects their lips.

“That’s helping.” He mumbles against her lips, causing her to giggle.

“How long did you sit here waiting?” She asks as they pull away.

“I don’t know, I would have sat here all night.” He shrugs. 

She smiles and kisses him again. 

“I would wait a lifetime for you.” He grins at her. 

“Stop being cheesy.” She lightly pushes his face away.

“Can’t help it. I love you.” He smiles.

“With the lights on?” She teases. He rolls his eyes and grins at her. 

“If you’ll let me.” He smirks.

“Nice try.” She nods at him. 

“You’re okay though?” He asks becoming serious.

“Yeah Babe I’m fine.” 

“Promise?”

“No promises remember.” 

“Stop playing for a second, promise me you’re okay.”

“I promise I’m okay.” She whispers, running her fingers threw his curls. 

“Okay.” He sighs, closing his eyes.

“Does this mean I have a ‘Bad Reputation’ now?” She giggles. 

He shakes his head, kissing her, to stop the teasing. 

Something For You

Hi babes! This is a Peter Parker fluff (that starts out smutty) about the reader trying to uncover Spider-Man’s secret identity after he protects her from some creeps one night while she crushes on Peter at school! I hope you like it!

Something For You

When Peter was in her room, even the air felt different. It felt like a fleecy blanket against her skin, all heavy, warm and at times, suffocating. Whatever pieces of fabric that Peter had yet to tear away from her body, she despised. She wanted to take it all off while his head rested against her clavicle, his hair tickling the crook of her neck while he pressed dulcet kisses across her collarbone.

    When her grip tightened around his hips, Peter would hitch her legs just a bit higher and his T-shirt would be tossed carelessly to the floor. Her favorite noise would forevermore be the creaks of her headboard smacking against her bedroom wall when their movements became even more erratic, and the little whines that left Peter’s throat when she scratched her nails softly down his bare back, and through his hair. The worships he whispered against her bare skin weren’t half bad either.

    The saltiness that came in with Peter when he slipped through her window rubbed into her flesh as their bodies twisted together. Splotches of cherry spilled across the floral expanse of her sheets, but she was too caught up with how low Peter’s kisses were dropping to even think about minding.

    Just as Peter’s kiss dropped to her inner thighs and her head dipped back, with her eyes clamped shut, a blaring alarm blasted through her phone’s speakers, halting her dream right then and there. She could’ve screamed in anguish. It was the third time her dreams of Peter had been interrupted by her alarm.

    Pulling her body from the plush confines of her bed, her shaky legs walked her down the hallway to prepare for the impending school day. Peter would be there, with his messy hair and kind, brown eyes. If she had any hopes of making her dream a reality, she’d better tame the mess atop her head that she called hair.

    As soon as she came back to her room and shut her door, and glanced over to her window, smiling when she’d come across another, not-so-anonymous gift webbed to her window.

    About a month or so ago, the famous Spider-Man had saved her from the gruesome clutches of a few creeps as she was walking home from her friends house. Instead of leaving her on the ground after he’d fought them off, he had curled an arm around her waist and used his webs to help her make it home safely. Ever since then, sometimes he would leave small gifts tacked outside her window.

    This morning, he had pasted a postcard with a photo of Gustav Klimt’s, ‘The Kiss,’ to her window. A smile graced her lips as she retrieved it, turning it over to see if he had left her a note. In the messiest handwriting the girl had ever come across, Spider-Man had scribbled,

You know who I am, smart girl. Think.

    It had been a running joke between the pair. As soon as he had dropped her off and was waiting to ensure that she made it in alright, she had turned on her heel swiftly and claimed that she recognized his voice. She had heard it somewhere before, she was positive, she just couldn’t place it. Now, Spider-Man seemed to tease her about it every chance he got.

    Taping the postcard above her bed, the girl went about her morning, rushing to make sure that she wasn’t late her first period of the day.

    Peter Parker, on the other hand, was more than alright with skipping his first period. On accident, he had dozed off, leaned against her window pane when he went to drop off ‘The Kiss.’ She had merely looked so peaceful, swaddled in her pink bedspread, and Peter craved that level of calm. He’d do anything to replace her pink sheets, to hold her close to him at night for warmth instead.

    Practically falling through his front door, Peter dragged himself up the stairs to his bedroom. He decided that if he slept through his first two periods, he would have time to arrive to school early where he’d run into her in the hallway, and maybe, if he could somehow plunk up the courage, he could walk her to their shared English class.

    Their interactions had been sparse. Peter had held the door for her every chance he got, nodding his head and blushing when she’d thank him, a rosy tint spilling across her cheeks as well. She had helped him gather his papers when Flash had knocked them out of his hands numerous times, once even telling him that he was smart when she had spotted one of his physics test scores.

    Although, the best interaction that they had ever had was when Peter caught her when she tripped on the stairs. It was within days of him getting bit by the spider, and he was hurrying down the steps while she was rushing up. Peter couldn’t even think of how she took such a nasty spill going upstairs, but before she had the chance to hit the floor, she was wrapped up in Peter’s arms, clutching his jacket with her eyes squeezed shut. She was braced for the impact that never came, and instead, she found herself with her cheek pressed into Peter’s chest.

    “Shit, are you alright?” Peter questioned, pulling away to inspect her for any signs of damage. Up close, she was even prettier. She had the love of Aphrodite in her eyes, and when she spoke, not even Tchaikovsky’s music could match the loveliness of her voice.

    “Oh gosh, Peter, M’so sorry! I almost took you down too, I’m so sorry!” One of her hands was placed in front of her mouth, while the other grabbed for his hand. “Thank you so much for not letting me fall, I’m literally a walking disaster waiting to happen.”

    Peter chuckled, shaking his head and moving his fingers to smooth over the back of her hand, “don’t worry about it, couldn’t just let you fall.” They shifted, each preparing to head in towards their differing locations, “just be careful, yeah? Don’t want you getting hurt.”

    She raised her eyebrows, the softness of his laugh reminding her of someone that she couldn’t quite pinpoint, “you’re one to talk,” motioning to his bruises law and bloody lip, “maybe you should be careful too?”

    They smiled at each other one last time before heading to their classrooms, but they lingered in each other’s minds for the rest of the day, week and ongoing months. Bashfulness plagued them both, because they hadn’t had a real conversation since then.

    When Peter finally awoke from his nap and had made his way to school, he tried to wander the hallway slowly, doing his best to seek her out. He doubted that he would have the courage to talk to her, but Peter would’ve settled for walking behind her. Her hair was so shiny that it would glimmer in the light, she smelled like vanilla and honey, and her bum wasn’t half bad to look at either.

    He waited for her until the first late bell rang, and a few moments before the second rang, Peter had been shooed off to class by one of his other teachers. He looked for her once he was seated, thinking it was possible that he’d missed her in the hall, but he couldn’t spot her in class either.

    About twenty minutes into the class, she slipped quietly inside, slinking to the back of the room, a few desks behind Peter. He could hear soft sniffles and trembling breaths. At this point, Peter figured out that she was crying. She was late to class because she was crying.

    It took everything in Peter to not go to her, get down on his knees, and kiss her tears away. He went out to fight bad guys on a daily basis in a city that wouldn’t ever be without crime, but Peter hadn’t ever felt so useless. Peter would’ve done anything to stop her tears. As soon as the class was over, she rushed out before a word between them was shared.

    At lunch, Peter walked past her and her friend’s table and overhead her tearfully explaining how awful a boy she had been tutoring had been to her. Peter decided that Spider-Man would be leaving her a gift that night.

    When the sun finally rose the next morning, the girl awoke to a bouquet of red tulips resting against her windowpane, along with a torn-out book page with a highlighted passage that read, “She had a kind heart, though that is not of much use when it comes to the matter of self-preservation.” The closer she looked at the tulips, she saw that Spider-Man had stuck a folded up note into the flower’s paper. It said,

The bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald.

    Moving the flowers into a vase, she trekked down to her local library to check out the very book.

    Moving through the hallway with his head ducked down, Peter crashed into her the next day at school. She was clutching a copy of ‘The Bookstore’ and a nearly empty coffee cup in her hands and blinked up at him in surprise.

    “Peter,” the girl questioned, holding an arm to his chest to steady him, “you seem sleepier than normal today.” Her eyes widened and she took a desperate sip to finish off her coffee, “not that I’m staring at you, ever, or anything. We just have, you know, classes and stuff together.” She felt blush spreading like wildfire throughout her entire body and she shook her head at herself. Leave it to her to let the boy she liked know that she was not only going to bump into him every other day, but that she was also a complete creep who couldn’t keep her eyes off of him.

    Peter smiled at her, “late night.” He wished that she would go back to nervously rambling, she looked awfully cute doing so. He tapped the cover of the book that rested in her hands, “I like her stuff, she’s very good. How far are you in?”

    “Only the first few chapters, my history exam had me up all night too.” She raised her coffee to her lips once more, taking a slow sip and licking the lid for any caffine that could’ve escaped her body before tossing it into the garbage can.

    She and Peter exchanged goodbyes and went through their separate schedules, both doing their best to create a conversation starter for the next day. Peter, taking full advantage of his secret identity, decided that Spider-Man would pay her a visit later on in the night. She seemed to enjoy the masked superheroes’ company, and Peter pondered that it was better he have her in secret than to not have her at all. He remained oblivious to the fact that at lunchtime, she had decoded bits and pieces of the mystery surrounding Spider-Man.

    It had clicked in her head just as she had sat down at her table and reopened ‘The Bookshop.’ Peter had cuts all over his face, bruises scattered across his body, not to mention he seemed familiar with the book in which Spider-Man had left her a passage from. Beyond that, when the pair had shared an art class, Peter had been so found of Klimt’s painting that he produced his own spin on the artwork. When Peter laughed, it was too eerily familiar to Spider-Man’s for her to let it go. The girl decided that tonight would be the night that she would stay up and wait for him.

    Peter wandered the skies, taking the long way back to where she lived. He’d only visit her after 4 a. m. because one night, Peter had stopped in at 2 in the morning and she was still up and flipping through pages of a novel that he couldn’t identify. When he perched on her windowsill, digging through his backpack to find the sonnet that he was going to web to her window, he found her sitting up in bed, and looking straight at him.

    The girl rushed forward, and motioned for Peter to lean back so she could open her window without nailing him in the face with the corner of her window. “Good morning,” she started, taking the boy she hoped and prayed was Peter Parker and pulling him through her window and into her bedroom. “Ask me who I think you are,” a smile teasing her mouth.

    Peter gulped, but decided to play along. “Who do you think I am?”

    “I think that you’re Peter Parker.” The girl said, leaning up on her tiptoes just as Peter glided his hands across her back to take a firm hold of her waist.

    Before he could over think it, Peter yanked off his mask, meeting her gaze full on, “I’m not sure you’re right, miss.” She knew and she didn’t seem disappointed, in fact, she seemed to be angling her lips towards his own, so Peter felt that it would be okay to tease her. He couldn’t get his brain to form anything other than a sarcastic sentence so he figured that he should just go with it.

    “You were looking for something,” she asked him, so close now that Peter could feel the heat of her breath on his jawline.

‘Shy love, I think of you

As the morning air brushes the window pane,

And how much time of all it takes to know

The movement of your arm, the steps you take,

The curves along your head, your ears, your hair.

For all of this, each hand, each finger,

Each lip, each breath, each sigh,

Each word and sound of voice of tongue,

I would require an age to contemplate.

But for your heart, your mind, you thoughts, all these,

To love them all I need at least five centuries.’

    “I do love Shakespeare,” the girl breathed before Peter crashed his lips down upon her own.


Ghost

Requested.

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?” 

“Dead.” 

“Dead.” 

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? 

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!

Lucien had no idea where she’d gone.

He was trying not to let himself worry too much, but the idea that she’d gotten scared and left plagued him, left his stomach in knots and his fingers cramped. He put his head between his knees and blew a breath through his teeth before heaving himself off of the bed.

The late autumn sun was peeking over the crests of the Night Court and filtering in through the town house Feyre had graciously given him. He stretched his back before running a hand through his tangle of hair, catching his lip between his teeth.

He knew it hadn’t been easy for Feyre and Rhysand. He knew it hadn’t been easy for Nesta and Cassian.

But something bagged at him. A dark little voice that whispered it was oh so much harder for him and Elain. And he didn’t know why. There was no major suffering between them. He’d received only a small taste of seeing her love directed toward someone else.

Nothing of the magnitude Rhys dealt with.

He’d only really had to spend a short time breaking down her walls. He had nothing on Cassian breaking Nesta down.

Or vice versa.

Lucien shook his head as he pulled his boxers and pants on, searching around the room for anywhere Elain might have gone. He’d been gentle last night, had taken his time, had been almost entirely focused on her. Being with her was so unlike being with anyone else, and not just because she was his mate. No.

With the other females, he’d been more focused on himself. Taking care of them … enjoying it … it had never even crossed his mind. But when he was with Elain …

When he’d glanced up that first time and seen her fingers wrapped around the headboard, when he’d seen her eyes closed and her lips parted ever so slightly … He’d decided he wanted to see her like that as much as possible.

He made a small noise of frustration before yanking the forest green shirt over his head, scrubbing his face with his hands before throwing the bedroom door open. He wasn’t mad at her. No. Of course not.

If anyone, he was mad at himself.

Perhaps his zeal had scared her away.

Lucien made his way down the hall, ducking his head in every room, every nook and cranny. She loved hiding in corners and small, cozy spaces. Maybe she just wanted some peace and quiet.

He hoped so.

After checking the last room, he had no option but to go downstairs. A servant breezed past him, throwing him a mildly disturbed glance.

Lucien swallowed. They had been awfully loud last night.

“Pardon me,” he said in his calmest, most reasonable voice, “but have you seen Lady Archeron?”

The servant glanced toward the garden, and without any more than a slight nod, returned to his duties.

The garden. Of course. Of course she would go to the garden.

Lucien took the first truly deep breath since he’d woken up that morning and made his way into the garden, now lit with the morning sun. Despite the lack of flowers and leaves, Elain had slowly helped him turn it into something cozy and beautiful, something wonderful and calm and wild and fierce all at the same time.

Like her.

“Hello, Lucien.”

Lucien looked up from where he’d been staring at a fallen brown leaf to find his mate watching him. Her eyes were as warm and filled with light as any flame. Nestled in her lap were two sleeping baby foxes.

She beamed at him. “Look who came to visit us.”

Lucien grinned. “Us?”

“Us.”

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.

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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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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.

“H-How-?”

“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

Undercover•Shawn Mendes

request: Can you write an imagine where you and Shawn are both famous singers and are dating, then you both see each other on the red carpet and cuteness ensues.

a/n: !!!!Famous couple AU!!!!

Originally posted by illuminateshawn

MASTERLIST - Hey come and check out some of my other mildly average writing!

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whoops — p.p.

wc: 1.8k
summary: “i’ll see you around, parker.” sequel to oops. (requested)
tags: @thatisstilltheterm @devilsdaughter1225


(Name)’s mouth was still tingling when she walked into the cafeteria and took a seat across from Makenzie at their signature lunch table.

“What the hell have you been doing?” Kenzie asked, her eyebrows furrowed together as she took in her friend’s slightly swollen lips and somewhat messy hair.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she said, snagging a fry from Makenzie’s tray.

“It honestly can’t be that bizarre, (Nickname). Now tell me,” she said, reaching a hand across the table and shaking her best friend’s arm.

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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.”

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.”

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.

Keep reading

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.”

Keep reading

Pillow Talks

Barry stirs, feeling a tickling against his cheekbones, and brings up a hand to scratch at the area. The air over him shifts slightly, but he pays it no attention as he turns his head to the side a little, pressing deeper into a pillow.

Something moves against his jaw, and in the haze of sleep, he has trouble putting a name to the sensation. A giggle sounds then, as his face scrunches, and Barry smiles, having no trouble putting a name to the voice.

He brings his hands up to wrap them around the body hovering above, and tugs Iris down gently. Another laugh escapes her throat as she struggles to set herself free, smiling when he lets her go eventually, cracking an eye open to glance down at the girl lying across his chest, knees on either side of his hips.

“Morning,” Iris mumbles softly, and Barry nods in response, eyes closing again as he feels Iris’s lips make contact with his jaw again. They start their journey right underneath his ear lobe before trailing across his jawline and to the bottom of his chin. Iris pauses and Barry opens his eyes just the slightest to find her staring right at him.

Iris’s lips don’t find his, but they do continue their trek up his face, planting little pecks on his cheeks, his eyelid, his forehead, before descending down his nose. They kiss his cupid’s bow, slightly chapped lips making contact with the concave bump, and Barry smiles, tugging Iris close.

“What are you doing?” He whispers as Iris settles in his arms, shifting down to rest her head on the bridge between his neck and his shoulder.

“Nothing,” Iris replies, playing with the buttons of his shirt. “I love you.”

“Why?” Barry asks, chuckling at the sudden confession, as his arms automatically tighten around her.

“Do I need a reason?” Iris whispers tilting her head up to run her mouth down Barry’s neck. He squirms a little, head automatically moving to give her greater access, and Iris breaks away from his arms to straddle him, head coming down to trail lips down his neck, pausing onto to kiss his Adam’s apple.

“No,” Barry replies once Iris’ head starts to move lower, a hand in her hair making Iris pause. “But why the sudden need to tell me so?”

“I just wanted to let you know,” Iris replies lifting her head up and the two make eye contact. Barry stares right into her eyes before bringing a hand up to rest against Iris’s cheek, thumb caressing her cheekbones. Iris leans into the touch, smiling softly, her own hand coming up to rest over Barry’s while her other holds her weight a little precariously.

“I love you, too.”

Iris hums, moving her head down to mouth at the bit of Barry’s chest peeking out of his shirt, before she sits up a little, hands fumbling with the buttons of Barry’s shirt. There’s nothing suggestive about her behavior and she leans down to kiss the skin exposed with each opened button, lips trailing softly down until the shirt is completely off, before making her way back up.

Kisses are littered across the plane of Barry’s stomach, a bite or a lick accompanying them every now and then, but there’s innocence in each touch, innocence laced with so much love that Barry has trouble believing that he’s worthy of everything Iris showering him with.

Iris kisses her way across Barry’s chest, moving up slightly, and Barry’s amazed at how soft and gentle each kiss is. There’s not a single hint of any impure motivation, no suggestiveness in any of her actions, and Barry can’t believe the girl making her way up his chest is truly his for the taking.

“Babe, give me a kiss,” Barry tugs at Iris lightly after a while, trying to pull her up, but Iris shakes her head.

“No,” She whispers against the side of Barry’s neck, lips back at his jaw.

“Come on, Baby. Give me a kiss.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Morning breath,” He can feel Iris’s lips curve into a smile.

“I don’t care,” Barry turns his head slightly to make eye contact and Iris finally sits up a little.

“Well, I do,” Iris announces, but she shifts forward, either way, leaning down to place a palm against Barry’s lips, before pressing a kiss right onto his hand. “There.”

He laughs in response, tugging Iris down into his chest, enjoying the way she starts to giggle, happiness shining off her, but doesn’t push for another kiss.

He turns both of them to the side, Iris tight within his arms, head tucked under Barry’s chin.

“Is this about last week?” Barry whispers, running a hand through Iris’s hair gently, fingers feeling the texture and the softness of black locks.

Iris doesn’t say anything for a while, and Barry glances down at her closed eyes and wonders if she’s fallen asleep.

“Yes,” Iris says after a while, arms making way around Barry’s back and pulling him in close.

“I’m sorry,” Barry breathes into her hair. “Did I scare you?”

“No,” Iris’s reply is meek. “It was…it was just a new experience.”

“Baby, you don’t have to be brave all the time, you know,” Barry says quietly. “It’s okay to admit it if it scared you.”

Iris goes quiet, but Barry feels her nods against his neck, “I was scared. I was really scared. But more than that I was worried. I was really worried about you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I didn’t know what came over me, I thought if you and I weren’t together he wouldn’t have a reason to come after you. ” Barry kisses Iris’s forehead, before pulling away to look at her.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Iris gives him a small smile. “I’m okay, now. I understand.”

“Thank you,” Barry murmurs gazing down at the girl in his arms. “Thank you so much. For everything you did, for handling everything so well, and for sticking by me despite how much trouble I gave you.”

Iris’s smiles widen at the fond look in Barry’s eyes, before reaching up to peck his lips once, before ducking her head down quickly to hide it in Barry’s neck, “You’re welcome.”

“You were very brave, and you did well,” Barry strokes her hair “Thank you for not running away.”

Iris snorts against his shoulder, “Like I could ever.”

Barry laughs, Iris hearing the way it rumbled through her chest, “Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Iris grins, pressing her ear to Barry’s chest, listening to his calm and steady heartbeat. “Definitely would’ve left already if I didn’t love you the way I do. You’re too much trouble, Barry Allen, far too much trouble.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll just have to hold on to you tighter,” Barry says before pulling her closer into a bone crushing hug.

Iris thrashes in his embrace, laughing loudly, as Barry doesn’t let her go. She stops moving to wonder how to get out to his arms, but Barry takes advantage of that movement to start tickling her.

“Barry!”Iris shouts as the first wave of laughter ripples through, shaking her to the core. She curls her body inwards trying to escape, hand coming out to try and stop Barry but to no avail. Barry seems to know exactly where to touch and how to touch to have her laughing until there are tears streaming down her face.

Iris’s breathing heavily by the time Barry pulls his hands away, smirking, and looks up to gaze at Barry with an expression that takes his breath away. Barry pins her down to the bed, before leaning down to kiss her.

“I love you, Iris West-Allen, so, so much,” Barry says as he places each consecutive kiss.

“Me too,” Iris says smiling upwards as Barry pulls away and falls back down beside her.

Iris moves closer, using Barry’s shoulder as a pillow, turning to her side while Barry stares up at the ceiling, hand coming up to rest in Iris’s hair.

“Let’s get up. I’m hungry,” Iris murmurs into his neck.

“Five more minutes,” Barry smiles and Iris lets out a heavy sigh.

Inspired by these episodes

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Undercover (Alex x Reader)

AN: I HIT 100 FOLLOWERS! THIS BLOG IS TWO WEEKS OLD THIS IS NUTS THANK YOU SO MUCH! I had a sugar mouse and I’m planning a few things in in celebration so you should check my updates page to see what’s occuring (shameless plug but I’M SO HAPPY)

 

Requested by: @fandomsinthegalaxies I hope you like it!

Summary: In that case if you’re open for some requests 💕 can you do one about Alex where she is an undercover guy so she can be in the army and becomes good friends with tommy, when they got inside the submarine looking boat they find out she’s a woman which then later Alex develops a huge crush on her and is really protective over her and is willing to do anything to get her safe. Sorry for the long description. 😬

 

Summary: As if Alex didn’t already have enough motivation to try and get home no matter the cost, along comes a soldier that clouds his judgement and threatens his chances of survival. 

Originally posted by lance91leroy

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