'i knew he could do it'

Line Repair

This is for @cerusee and I do not apologize at all for the lack of angst.

Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd father/son bonding. Gen, a Tiny Bit of Strong Language

The air was deceptively cool, a lazy breeze drifting up from the river the highway ran alongside. The sun was pleasantly warm at first and only gradually turned to hot. Jason Todd knew there was a long line of mature trees only fifteen feet away that he could seek shelter under, that might even be sort of wonderful if he had a lunch and a book, but he had a hard time walking away from problems.

His current problem was something under the hood of the non-descript Audi he’d borrowed from the Manor. And he had actually borrowed it for once, at Alfred’s urging. It was a slightly older and trusted car from the massive garage, and when he’d mentioned as a slight warning that he’d been itching to get out of the city for a bit– a warning he felt he owed Alfred at this point, if no one else– it hadn’t taken much from the older man to convince him to just borrow the car.

Because it was Alfred.

Now, if there was any consolation at all to be found in bending over the now-cooled but previously smoking engine, getting dust and grease all over his worn tee, it was that at least it had happened to him and not Alfred, somewhere in the middle of Gotham.

He had been tinkering around for thirty minutes, coming to the reluctant conclusion that it was the oil line and he didn’t have the tools and was going to have to hitchhike or walk the couple of miles toward the nearest help and then deal with the car itself instead of going further from the city and the life there he just needed a break from.

Nothing spectacular had happened to drive him away– no case gone wrong, no pile of bodies, no bitter injury or trauma or anniversary. But the city itself sometimes grew too big, too heavy on his heart and mind, and he just needed space even if he knew he’d run back within days or weeks.

Jason wiped sweat off his forehead and stepped back from the car and sighed.

That was when the other car approached, the rumble of its engine preceding it on the quiet road. He leaned back over the open hood and made a show of being engrossed in the components there, while keeping an eye on the road to see what would show up. The car passed him, already slowing, and pulled to a stop on the graveled shoulder just a couple of yards ahead.

Jason tensed. The road was quiet enough that any concerned passerby would likely slow on the blacktop and roll down a window, offer help. Maybe it was a cop. The car was unmarked but black.

He stood, wiping his hands on his already ruined shirt, and plastered a warm smile on his face. He turned and froze.

Bruce climbed out of the other car.

“The fuck,” Jason exclaimed, his smile falling.

“Hello to you, too,” Bruce replied mildly.

“I didn’t steal it,” Jason spat out. “Alfred told me to take it.”

Bruce ducked back into the car he’d emerged from and when he straightened, taking a deep breath of the fresh air, he was holding a paper sack of food and a cardboard drink carrier.

“I know,” Bruce said. “He told me.”

And maybe it was the ingrained paranoia, the fine family tradition of subterfuge, or just the tiny (and mildly glorious) sense of knowing someone else so well, but comprehension hit Jason like a thunderclap.

“He knew,” Jason gasped. And it irked him that it was Alfred and that he couldn’t cuss him out, even absent, without feeling about a hundred times as guilty as he would with anyone else.

“That the line had a slow leak?” Bruce asked, walking toward him. Whatever he had in the bags smelled amazing and it was about an hour past lunch. Jason had decided to push ahead to the next small town, eager for the miles between him and Gotham, and then had been forced to pull over in the middle of nowhere. Bruce held out the bag. “He did.”

They might not have the smoothest relationship, but it was Bruce out of the suit and it was a bag of food and even if Jason’s stomach hadn’t grumbled, he would have taken it. He peered inside.

“Are these pepperjack chicken sandwiches?” Jason asked, incredulous.

“And tea,” Bruce answered, lifting the drink carrier slightly. He looked a little apologetic, a worried frown around his eyes. “I didn’t think Gotham chili dogs would stay hot for the drive. But there’s a Wendall’s just ten miles back, the last one going west.”

Jason leaned against the bumper of the car and then cast a glance toward the shaded bank. He was still watching the trees and not Bruce when he asked, “You really drove three hours to catch up with me?”

“I did,” Bruce said. He reached out and bent the sack toward himself. Jason let it happen. Bruce pulled one of the sandwiches out. There were boxes of shoestring fries underneath. “I brought tools. And a new line. A drain pan and a few quarts of oil. But let’s eat first.”

“Okay,” Jason said faintly, looking into the bag again. He took off, long strides carrying him toward the trees and the river bank. It didn’t smell like trash and sewage out here. “But I’m not gonna bake while I eat,” he called, without turning. He left the words making it to Bruce on the whim of the wind.

Whether or not Bruce heard clearly, he followed and sat down next to Jason on the grass. They sat shoulder to shoulder, with enough space between them that Bruce set the drink carrier down.

“How early did Al wake you up?” Jason asked, glancing over at Bruce’s pale face in the sunlight. He hadn’t bothered with any of his usual makeup to hide the dark circles or the days-old bruise on his cheek, the stuff he wore for work. It reminded Jason of days when they had breakfast together at the gigantic dining room table, before getting ready for the world outside the Manor.

“He let me sleep a whole two hours,” Bruce said, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “It was supposed to be my day off.”

“Sorry,” Jason grumbled, which was hard to do around a mouthful of chicken sandwich.

“I’m not,” Bruce said. “We’re not good at lunch dates.”

Jason choked when his surprised and bitter laugh interrupted swallowing. Bruce reached out a hand, hesitated, and then clapped him on the back anyway. Jason sucked down tea to chase away the lingering itch in his throat. “No,” he said when he’d recovered. “No, we aren’t. Midnight snacks are more our thing now.”

“I think that’s my fault,” Bruce admitted, taking his own tea.

“I dunno,” Jason said, taking another bite. He knew he hadn’t exactly made himself easy to get along with or seek out.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, eating, then Bruce brushed his hands against each other and swapped his crumpled sandwich wrapper for a box of shoestring fries.

“Anyway,” he said, letting the quiet draw out again. “I’m not angry Alfred set us up. This is nice.”

“It is,” Jason agreed, with only a little reluctance. “Figures Al would figure out how to make it happen.”

“Where are you headed?” Bruce asked, gesturing with a slight motion of his shoulder toward the Audi.

“Haven’t decided,” Jason said, slurping tea from the crowded ice in the cup. “Just wherever, I guess.”

“We’ll fix the line and you can go find out,” Bruce said. “Need anything else?”

“No,” Jason said, feeling as calm as the river looked. It was nice, to sit and munch on fries and talk without shadows looming over them, without the weak glow of street lamps or the halogen bulbs in the cave. “I’ll be good. Thanks.”

“Send me a postcard,” Bruce said. “So I know where you end up.”

And even though it was just an escape, a tiny vacation from his usual life, Jason was reassured by the implication: I care but I’m not tracking you.

It was a comforting feeling, the freedom and the connection.

“Sure,” Jason said. “How are you doing?”

Bruce looked over at him, a long and steady look, and when Jason tore his eyes away to stare at the river again instead, Bruce sighed.

“I’m worn out. I need a vacation soon, too. Alfred keeps dropping hints. Maybe Iceland.”

For the first half of the minute that followed, Jason was tempted to say something joking or disparaging but he struggled to come up with something that satisfied the impulse. There was another delay as he realized the difficulty was rooted in the lack of any sour emotion to spur it. “You should go,” he finally settled on saying.

He could feel Bruce studying him, probably with that unrelenting and undaunted expression he often had while figuring out a problem or gathering information.

“I think I will,” Bruce said, exhaling softly. Jason turned to him and tried to grin, but he knew it came off as more genuine and less rakish than he’d meant for it to.

“You gonna eat those fries?” Jason asked, leaning over to look into the box Bruce was holding but not doing anything else with.

“No,” Bruce said, holding them out. “Want them?”

“Hell yes,” Jason said, accepting the box. “Only you’d waste good fries.”

“Want me to start on the oil line?” Bruce offered, beginning to stand.

“Nah,” Jason said. “We can do it together. Don’t rush me. Some of us actually learned how to savor food when Alfred taught us, instead of eating like machines.”

Bruce chuckled and leaned back on the grass instead of rising. “Alright.”

The French fries were crisp and salty and Jason alternated chewing them and sucking watery, frigid tea through the red and white striped straw. The river lapped softly at the baked mud bank beneath them and wind tumbled through the treetops overhead.

“I’m done,” he announced, more than five minutes after actually finishing the fries.

“Hn,” Bruce answered, sounding far from fully awake.

Jason stretched out in the grass and put a boot on the bag of trash so it wouldn’t blow away.

“If I wake up covered in bug bites, it’s your fault,” he said, closing his eyes. The sunlight that filtered through the canopy was just enough to keep away an actual chill.

“Hn,” Bruce said again. “We should lock the cars.”

“You do it,” Jason said. “If you’re so freaking paranoid.”

There were two clicks of automatic locks from near the road. Jason felt his pocket but the keys were still there and it just figured Bruce would have another set, but he kind of didn’t care.

It over an hour before either of them moved again.

Chris&Eva #19

To:Noora <3

I think I love Chris.

As soon as Eva sent the text, she immeditely regretted it. It’s not like she planned to text Noora that. She was going to ask how was speech for Sana going, but before she could do that, Chris sent photo of himself at the flower shop with caption “which should I bring today”. He had been bringing her gorgeous bouquet all week. At first she found it weird, but after few days she caught herself wondering, what flowers will he bring her next. It was safe to say that every other though she had was about Christoffer, and she didn’t mind it one bit. 

She felt her phone vibrate, of course it didn’t take Noora long to answer. She knew what Noora was going to say before she even read the text.

From: Noora <3

Well… if you say “think” then you’re probably not in love with him. If you love someone,well, you just know.

Eva felt herself wince. Noora has always been nothing but honest towards her, so there was no way she was making this up. Maybe it was Eva who was making it all up in her head. She certainly felt flattered by attention that she was recieving from Chris. He always made her feel special, then again, everyone who got even a tiniest bit of attention for him felt special. Christoffer had this energy that was almost radiant. Standing next to him felt like standing next to Sun. One of a kind experience. 

To:Noora <3

OK…how did you know that you loved William?

It took Noora less than a minute to answer.

From: Noora <3

I just looked at him one day and knew. There was no one else like him and there would never be… at least not for me.

Eva typed back quick text before putting on her coat and heading out.

To:Noora <3

Jævla  cliché


It was almost midnight when Chris arrived to apartment that he and Will shared. After his best friend left for London, Chris wasn’t sure if they were ever going to see each other longer than for a few days a year. Thank God for Noora Sætre, that girl has some sort of magic hold on his best friend, wherever she goes, William will follow.

Chris was so preoccupied with his thought that he almost didn’t notice Eva standing near the elevator, he didn’t,actually, Chris caught a whiff of  bergamont and the first image that popped into his head was of himself, going through Eva’s fragrance collection and Eva picking up a bottle of See by Chloe and telling him that it was her favourite for two reasons. For one, she loved the scent of bergamont and it was 18th Birthday present from her mother.

Chris realised that they both have been staring at each other for what felt like forever and neither of them has said anything.

“Mohn, I know I called you a stalker, but I never actually considered that you might be one,” he said with a smirk, trying to lighten up the mood. Eva didn’t even look like she heard what he just said. He took a cautious step forward, he wasn’t afraid of her. More like he was afraid for her. For her safety, he felt like he might choke, the fear that something bad happened to her when he wasn’t around to protect her was killing him. “Eva…please,” he didn’t even know what he was begging for,”Did something happen? Are you hurt?” She didn’t look hurt, at least not physically, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t. He put a hand on her cheek studying her face, trying to find even a small bruise or a scratch.

Finally Eva snapped out of whatever trance she was in, and even though she was looking at him all this time, by the look on her face, it seemed like she was seeing him for the first time.

“I love you,” she whispered so quietly, that Chris wasn’t even sure that he heard her correctly. But a smile started to tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t think I heard you,” he said said, taking a step even closer, so that her body was pressed up against his, his right hand never leaving her cheek and his left one pressed to the small of her back.

“You…” Eva began, taking in a shallow breath.”You are the one for me.”

“And?” Chris said, breaking into full-on grin.” I would very much like if you said the first sentence again, louder this time.”

Eva let out a frustrated sigh,”You really want me to?”

“You have no idea for how long,”he said and  kissed her temple.”So….”

“I love you, you asshole.” She said and punched him in the arm.

“Ouch,” he yelped, pretending to be hurt.”I think, I liked you saying it the first time around.Maybe if–”

“Don’t you even go there,” Eva said, with a glance that was full of love and annoyance at the same time.

“Come on, sweetheart. Third time’s the charm.”

“I am not saying it again.”

“Please. Just one more time.”

And they stood there like that, completely annoyed and insanely in love with one another, bickering as they always did, only this time it wasn’t about what to watch or what kind  of pizza to order, this time they bickered over who should be the last one to say those three magice words, until William came out of the apartment and told them to drag their lovestruck asses in the apartment.



For my first execution I had a fusion of thoughts
Circling wildly in my head like a thief who was caught
And rendered helpless like a cat locked in  a cage
But I knew I’d be forced to turn the other page
I walked onto the firing range with robotic eyes
And a clear mind so that I could be blind
To what I was about to do to this criminal at hand
I’m just going along with my job description’s plans
If it wasn’t for him we wouldn’t even be
In this situation but for now currently
I had to execute this felon for the crimes that he did
Or else he’d commit more in time God forbid
I gripped the gun’s handle as tightly as I could
While sweat poured like buckets under my hood
My nerves were shot like the sound I would hear
Once I pulled the trigger after crosshairs grew near
The felon was standing with his back against the wall
With nowhere to run and nowhere to fall
He was calmer than me for I assume that he knows
My guilt for this execution would continue to grow
I was no better than him; killing for the law
Or for a just cause by those hands with the claws
Who govern our lives and decide who lives
Or dies by their hands because they can not forgive
The pressure was building; temperature rising
The instructor next to me who was advising
Me on the precise limbs to shoot for best reactions
Stood there smiling and waiting for action
But I couldn’t handle the pressure of killing another man
Even justifiable acts I avoid them if I can
So I raised the gun high and aimed it toward the felon’s head
And quickly turned it around and shot myself instead


Nico sighs: I know what he’s planning.

Lala gasps. How could Nico possibly know?

Nico: He told me everything. About that millionaire. The one you told me about the day we met. Believe me Lala, I won’t allow Remy to go through with it.

Lala: I hate that his mind goes to a dark place like that. I don’t want my son to ever think it’s okay to hurt people. Do you know what your father did to him? How he abused Remy? Remy won’t get help for it. So he could end up hurting our son too.

Nico low: None of my siblings ever told me what Manny did to them once I left Newcrest and went to college. Remy especially. And my father and I… I’m not afraid of Manny. My brothers and sisters are, but I’m not. I think my siblings knew if they told me what he’d done to them, I would have killed him. He’d hide like a rat any time I went back to see them on my school breaks.

Lala whispers: It was so bad what he did to him, Nico. 

Nico: You don’t have to tell me. If Remy shared it with you, it meant he trusted you enough to keep it between you two. I’m waiting for the day he trusts me enough to share it with me. Anyway, you don’t have to worry about anyone coming to harm. If the videos on that millionaire are true, then I’ll work on bringing him to justice. With no blood shed. 

Lala shakes her head: I don’t think you can stop Remy, Nico.

Imagine Dean missing you while he's away...

Dean had spent his day off thinking of you, his beautiful girlfriend, waiting for him back at the bunker. Your (long/short), soft, (h/c) hair. The way it fell perfectly. Thinking of your (e/c) eyes, the way they shined through the darkest of rooms. Feeling overwhelmed with love for you. Never had he felt so in love with a woman. Sure he’d loved before, but he was sure it was more than love with you. You completed him. “Stop moping and help me!” Sam chuckled. Dean sighed once more, looking at your picture on the table, with love. Although he knew no pictures could do your beauty any justice. “I miss her” was all Dean said before pulling himself from the motel bed. Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s comment. “You act like a lost puppy without her” Sam said. “I feel like one” he replied. Dean missed your kisses, the feel of your soft lips. Your hugs, the warmth of your body. He missed everything that made you, you. “You can miss her in the car, let’s go!” Sam said, dragging luggage to the Impala. Dean grabbed your picture and looked at it once again, he knew he would see you today, and the hour couldn’t come soon enough. “I can’t wait to see you, baby girl” he whispered to himself, continuing the stare at your picture.

Originally posted by tearinmyeye

anonymous asked:

Oh! If you like the preferences, could I see one of Googliplier, Darkiplier, Wilford and Antisepticeye with a reader who has trouble sleeping, like what they would do? I'm having trouble myself lately 😞

Thanks for requesting!! Sorry to hear you are having trouble sleeping, I can relate though

Google is very methodical and probably the most helpful in this regard because his methods can be learnt so if he is ever busy you can do it yourself. He wouldn’t suggest anything unless he knew it was tried and true. He would provide physical comfort and relaxation methods. Although he is usually very stiff, he tries his hardest to be calming and he succeeds, he gets you to sleep in under an hour, easily.

Dark is great at manipulating people into a sense of calmness, so this is his go-to move. From there he will use his soothing voice and gentle touches to lull you to sleep. He is useless past this point, so if you are not very susceptible to his abilities, then sorry friend, you’re outta luck

Wilford… he tries believe me, he does, but he is a loud, excitable being. His best tactic is to lay with your head on his chest so you can follow along with his deep breaths, he has this really nice habit of covering your ear so no noises are likely to wake you. Some nights you both end up falling asleep, its cute. If you wake up, the process starts again, he never loses patience with you.

Anti is the least helpful because he makes the air around him seem thicker. While he doesn’t make you as anxious as he makes other people, he still can’t help the pressure he adds to the room if he’s had a bad day. But, on good days he actually is quite comforting to be around. Hugs and kisses for the win. Head pats, they happen 

anonymous asked:

Why did Cas go to stab Lucifer anyway? He knew it wouldn't kill him.. Did he just want a little revenge first?

Originally posted by stayclassysupernatural

Literally the only real reason I can think of (ie. that isn’t explainable in that the plot could have been written in many another way to get to the ending with Lucifer and Mary in the AU and Jack born) is that it was done this way just so he’d get stabbed ie so we got our break up moment to further the Destiel plot and so that we would get a Dean / Sam Cas / Jess parallel with Sam dragging Dean away…

Ie. there was no real reason for it to happen except to make it romantic.

I’m living.

Ink Reminders

Request: hihihi was wondering could you do #30 with sirius?

Word Count: 812

Note: since you didn’t ask for a specific soulmate au, i decided to go with the one where whatever you write on your skin appears on your soulmate’s skin as well, hope you like it!

30.You’re my soulmate?”

Prompt List

Everyone had soulmates, some had found them already and some hadn’t. Sirius just so happened to not have found his yet, but he knew she was around somewhere, doodling stuff on her wrist every once in a while, making it appear on his skin as well.

He had tried to figure out where she was by her doodles and notes, written carelessly as reminders, but had no luck. She had to be from Hogwarts, since many times he had seen written on his wrist things like “Send owl to mother” or “Get asphodel for potions”. Unfortunately for Sirius, she never wrote dates, only tasks she had to fulfill, making it hard to know when to look for her.

“I don’t know what to do!” Sirius yelled, throwing his arms up and falling on the common room sofa.

“Still haven’t found her?” James asked, holding Lily in his arms.

Sirius’ stomach twisted in jealousy, he was obviously happy for his friend, but he wanted to find his soulmate as well and cuddle up to each other just like that.

Keep reading

Talk, Talk, Talk

This is a jotch fic requested by the wonderful @dontshootmespence. It’s actually the first jemily that I’ve written, so I really hope I did alright haha. Please, please enjoy, my loves :)

JJ loses Will after Hotch loses Haley. It starts as just two people confiding in each other, but maybe it devolves into other feelings, hmm?

“Hotch?” JJ gasped, pulling her sweatshirt tighter around her, “What are you doing here?”

Hotch held out the wine bottle, a sort of olive branch, “I figured you could use somebody to talk to you.”

“I’m fine,” She answered, lips a firm, straight line. He knew better.

“C’mon, just talk. It was a tough case, and what with everything that’s happened…”

“You wouldn’t unders-” JJ stopped because that wasn’t true. If anybody were to understand what she was going through, it would be hotch. He had gone through it, too. He’d been widowed and dragged down into the terrifying trenches of single parenthood. JJ sighed, “Come in,”

They end up settled onto the couch, wine glasses clutched in their hands, and popcorn on the table. That night, the two of them talk late into the night. JJ cries and Hotch hugs, shares advice. He’d learned things the hard way, and he knows that if he can do anything to prevent this amazing woman- coworker, he reminds himself- that she can make it through this, then he is most definitely going to do that. Just because he’s a good guy like that.

At 2 in the morning, JJ walks Hotch to the door, feeling tired, exhausted, and… better?

“Thank you, Hotch,” She tells him, “For everything. I really appreciate having somebody to talk to that actually understands.”

“You have no idea what I would have done to have somebody to just talk to after I lost Haley. I know what it’s like. I’m always here.” He reassures her, and she smiles softly as she shuts the door behind him and watches Hotch’s receding figure down the snowy driveway toward his car.

They do the whole ‘late night talk’ thing for a couple weeks after that. They do it every night they don’t have a case, and a couple nights that they do. It’s good and… familiar somehow.

One night, the dimness of the Jareau living room doesn’t feel like enough, and the two of them somehow end up at a coffee shop a couple of blocks over. Her mom volunteers to watch the kids, and JJ has the opportunity to talk and breathe and be out of a space that reminds her of somebody she lost, of a loss that left her as a widow and her children fatherless.

She tells Hotch how she feels, how congesting the house feels, with its haunts and memories, and she does her best not to shed tears (she’s stronger than this, dammit). But with Hotch everything feels easier and now Hotch has his arm wrapped comfortingly around her, his thumb rubbing soft circles against her palm, whispering quiet reassurances into her ear in the center of a coffee shop.

She tries not to think about how nice he smells and he tries not to attempt to pin down the scent of her shampoo (it’s vanilla and strawberries, he decides). They both fail miserably.

When they get up to leave, JJ realizes that her hand had been folded in his for the past hour, and that she’s reluctant to let go. She chalks it up to loneliness and the warmth of just having a good friend, and tries not to think about it too long as they step out into the cold, dark winter outside as they say their goodbyes.

At first, they try to keep it private, not make a big deal out of things. They’re just friends, it doesn’t matter anyway. But then one day, Hotch falls asleep beside her on the couch as some movie plays on the television. When the credits play, JJ doesn’t have the heart to wake him up.

In the morning, she makes pancakes and bacon for Henry and Michael. Hotch wakes up to the smell of the bacon and the sound of plates and forks and glasses clinking together. JJ left a mug of still-hot coffee on the coffee table for him to drink when he got up, made to order just as he liked it (black with the smallest amount of milk).

Hotch grunted as he rose off of the couch, shuffling into JJ’s kitchen to find Henry and Micheal chowing down hungrily on pancakes and bacon in the bright breakfast nook.

“Good morning, Mr. Hotchner!” Henry coos happily through a mouthful of pancake.

Hotch just smiles back at the young boy as JJ berates him for talking with his mouth full. He doesn’t say much over breakfast, he feels like he’s intruding and he allows Jareau domesticity reign over his silence.

When the two boys scurry off to get dressed for the school day, each pressing a kiss to their mother’s cheek, Hotch remarks to himself that for all of the sadness that plagues JJ, she’s an amazing mother, who has done an amazing job shielding her son’s from the pains of the world during her own troubles.

“You’re a really good mom,” He says quietly as he grabs for the last piece of bacon.

“Thank you,” JJ says back just as quietly, tensing a little for some reason that even she isn’t sure of.

She moves to do the dishes in silence then, and Hotch tries not to think too hard about how he possibly just messed up very much there.

The boys race back in ten minutes later, smiling and laughing and somehow making all sorts of noise as they get ready for the bus to come for them.

“Mr. Hotchner?” Henry looks up, “Can Jack sleep over at our place this weekend?”

“If it’s okay with your mom, “ Hotch answers, and all three of the boys look over at JJ in freakish unison. JJ tries not to think about how good the three of them look together, no sirree she does not.

“Jack is always welcome here,” She answers, and the way Hotch smiles back makes her insides feel a lot more at ease, which is weird to say the least.

After the boys get loaded onto the bus, JJ turns to Hotch, “Are you going to go home or straight to work?”

“I have my go bag in my car, I figured I’d just use that.”

JJ smiles, “We can car pool. It’ll be fun.” Hotch laughs at that and JJ smiles a little wider, “And Hotch? You’re always welcome here, too, just like Jack is.”

“I know, JJ.” He answers softly, “Thank you.”

The BAU profilers (and the brilliant technical analyst) start to notice the times JJ and Hotch car pool to work are starting to add up after about two and a half months of them car pooling with their late night talks and twice weekly trysts. Some of the junior agents are rumored to have started a betting pool about the whole thing. Everybody is very suspicious about the whole thing. But nobody, nobody, is more suspicious that Penelope Garcia.

The technical analyst has seemingly made it her life duty to discover what is going on between her unit chief and best friend. Unfortunately, all of her attempts at intrusion and infiltration proved fruitless. JJ and Hotch denied anything other than professional friendship. According to them, they worked cases together and that was it- yeah, right!

It all changed when JJ rushed into work late one day with her kids trailing after her. She looked a mess, stressed beyond belief.

“I am so, so sorry about this guys,” She told her coworkers, and she looked even more sorry about it than she claimed, “The babysitter fell through, and my mom is out of town visiting my uncle, and apparently nobody can babysit last minute on a Wednesday, and they didn’t tell me they had the day off until last night, and-”

“It’s fine, JJ,” Hotch said from the door of his office, “We all know they won’t make trouble. We understand.”

“Thank you,” She nodded her head in his direction just as Garcia appeared.

Children! Yay!” And then the vibrant woman was hugging the Jareau boys, “What did I do to deserve the pleasure of seeing my two favorite boys in the world today?”

“Mom couldn’t find a sitter, so we came to work with her!” Henry announced excitedly

“Cool!” Garcia announced, “Do you guys want cookies? I made some last night!”

They cheered, looking to their mom for the ‘ok’ before racing off after Aunt Garcia. After being fed and sugared, they collapsed in chairs, giggling as they played games on one of Garcia’s computers.

“So, can I ask you two something?” Garcia eventually turned toward them, deviously quiet, “You can’t tell your mom that I asked you this, okay?”

They nodded eagerly.

“Do you ever see your mom hanging out with Mr. Hotchner?”

“Oh yeah,” Henry replied easily, taking another bite of cookie, “He comes over all the time.”


“Mhm,” Little Micheal piped up, “He sleeps on the couch sometimes. We always have bacon the next day when that happens!”

Garcia smirked, “Interesting.”

“Gonna have to take a rain check tonight, Hotch” JJ said as she leaned into the doorway of Hotch’s office. She had felt much better in the weeks that followed the Incident of No Sitter a few weeks earlier.

“Oh?” Hotch grunted, trying to convince himself that that was most definitely not disappointed buried in his stomach because he hadn’t felt that since he had dated Haley, “Big plans?”

JJ shrugged, “Garcia insists on hosting this big slumber party thing for the girls. She seems to think that we need to bond more or something. I suspect that there will be lots of alcohol and giggling, and not much of anything else.”

“Alright, well, have fun. Don’t let Garcia get into too much trouble. We don’t want a repeat of what happened last time.”

JJ’s laugh was real and big and made Hotch’s stomach churn, “Of course,”

When JJ showed up at Garcia’s house, cheap wine in hand and an extra pair of sweat pants in her purse, she had not expected to be attacked by Garcia within the next two hours. But of course, she had willingly shown up at Garcia’s house. She should have expected something.

“Excuse me?” JJ repeated, incredulous. She never should have agreed to drinking so much if she knew this would happen, “Why would anything be happening between me and Hotch? We work together?”

Emily snorted from the chair across from her and Penelope laughed from her spot on the floor.

“How about the fact that you two frequently car pool to work together?” Emily supplied

“We both have kids that go to the same school!” JJ attempted to dispute

Emily continued to provide reasons that there was apparently definitely something going on between the blonde profiler and Hotch. JJ did her best to deflect them, and she did fairly well, all things considering, until Garcia smirked and declared, “What about the bacon?”

“What does that mean?”

“I have an inside source that tells me you always make bacon whenever he falls asleep on your couch.”


JJ blushed, but okay she was much too drunk to properly be able to keep this up, “Okay, so maybe I… like him a little.”

Garcia was smirking and JJ hated it just a little bit, “We need details now,”

“I don’t know. He just… he was the only person that really understand what I was going through after I lost Will, and he was always there to comfort me, and always willing to talk…”

“JJ LIKES A BOOO-OOO-OY” Emily bellowed obnoxiously, devolving into nothing but giggles as she fell off her chair and onto Garcia’s hardwood floor. JJ felt like she didn’t stop rolling her eyes for the rest of the night.

“So, how was the slumber party?” Hotch asked, as he took his usual place beside JJ on her couch

“It was alright,” JJ shrugged, feeling her cheeks burn because they had talked about him, “I was right. Lots of alcohol and giggling.”

Hotch chuckled lowly, shaking his head, “Was there bonding like Garcia had hoped?”

“Yeah,” JJ said, taking a nervous sip of her wine and rather determinedly not looking at Hotch’s face, “We talked about, um…” She almost shared something she most definitely should not, “Well, we talked about lots of things,”

“Really?” Hotch laughed, leaning naturally toward her, “Like what?”

JJ looked up to find him incredibly close. Incredibly close. She could see every part of his face, every wrinkle and memory, smile lines and brow lines alike. He was chuckling softly, his lips pink, his face light, and before she realized what she was doing, she was swept up into the moment and found herself breathing out, “You.

“W-what?” He stuttered, surprised, just barely pulling away.

Oh, god. Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god. She had really screwed up, hadn’t she. Oh, no. JJ felt her face burn.

“We, um, talked about you,” She murmured embarrassed

“You did? About what? Did Garcia complain about her hours again?” He refused to believe that this wonderful woman that he liked so much talked about him to her best friends in a capacity that wasn’t purely about their work. There was no way she liked him enough. No way.

“No, um,” God, she screwed up, didn’t she, “The girls seemed to have noticed that we come to work together sometimes, and Garcia managed to get me to admit that…” It was all or nothing. JJ took a deep breath and look nervously up toward Hotch, still incredibly, comfortably close, warm and terrifying, “that I like you.”

“Really?” Hotch breathed out in surprise.

JJ nodded weakly, but Hotch didn’t move away, didn’t flinch in disgust like she had expected. Instead, after the original surprise subsided, he… smiled, “Well, that’s really, really good news, JJ because I like you, too. Kinda a lot.”

JJ smiled at that, because how could she possibly not. Her face lit up, beyond happy, beyond everything.

Hotch leaned in closer, and she could feel his warmth, his absolute electricity. She felt his shoulder bump against hers, and his elbow push into his couch, and then….his lips against hers. She tried not to gasp, but it escaped because it had been so long since she had felt this, power and passion and happiness all rolled into one.

When he pulled away, JJ groaned a little in disappointment. Hotch just smiled, slightly breathless, “So,” He said, “Good talk.”

JJ just laughed and kissed him again. Maybe they’d talked a little too much.  


Prompt: Parrish finds out he is a hellhound and is afraid to tell you (his girlfriend/boyfriend) because he fears you will hate him, until you show him that you are a shapeshifter.

This is my first one-shot so I hope you guys like it :)

This was Requested

Originally posted by showandwrite

He didn’t know what to do. Should he tell you? But what if you would hate what he was, what if you would run? He didn’t want you to be afraid of him. He was pacing around the living room when you walked in. “Jordan? What’s wrong” you could sense his anxiety from a mile away. The more you shift into a specific animal the more of their senses you develop when you are in your human form. You knew something had been wrong with him or a while, maybe he would finally tell you.

Keep reading

puppetpuppe  asked:

I'm curious, if you still do Monster!Ohm asks, 'cause I started to wonder what human Ohm {Ryan} would do if he could have an after tast/sickening feeling or taste again, if he knew that Monster!Ohm ate human meat. I'm also sorry for spamming ya with likes.

( haha no worries ! thanks for liking my blog :3 )

–i think he’d eat so many sweets to get the taste off; probably why he Chubb™ ?

Dylan and the Popular Girl

“God, she’s so beautiful.” Dylan said to Eric as he studied you from afar.
“Yeah? Well, good luck with her, cause you and I both know that she’s way out of your league.” Eric replied. Dylan sighed.
“Yeah, I know. It’s just that, I dunno. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so shy, I wish I could just get the balls to talk to her.” He mumbled.
You were leaning against your locker reading a book, and looked up to see Dylan Klebold looking at you. You always caught him doing that, but you didn’t mind. You knew he liked you, and to be honest you liked him back. You smiled and waved.
“Dude dude dude, did you see that?” Dylan said.
“What? No, what happened?” Eric said.
“She waved at me. She smiled at me. Dude, she noticed me!!!” Dylan said with excitement.
“God you sound pathetic. Come here.” Eric said. He grabbed Dylan’s arm and dragged him towards you.
“Reb, what’re you doing?” Dylan asked.
“I’m doing you a favor.” Eric responded. He stopped in front of you.
“Hey there. I’m Eric, and this here is my friend Dylan.” He said. You laughed.
“I know.” You said with a smile.
“Well then, there you go Dyl, she knows we exist. Well if you don’t mind, Dylan here would love to talk to you and get to know you better.” He said, pushing Dylan towards you. He then “checked” the “watch” that wasn’t even there.
“Well would you look at the time. I have to go…um…I don’t fucking know but Imma go now bye.” And with that, Eric left. Dylan stood there awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. You laughed.
“You good?” You asked with a giggle.
“Yeah, I’m just shy around…never mind.”
“Shy around what?” You asked. He stayed silent for a bit.
“I…uh…I’m shy around pretty girls like you.” He said as he looked down. You blushed and smiled.
“Do you really mean that?” You asked.
“Of course I do.” He said.
“Y/N!” You heard. You turned around to see your ‘friends’ a few feet away.
“Ugh, I’ll be back.” You said. Dylan nodded and watched as you walked over to them.
“What’s up?” You asked. They all gave you a look.
“What?” You asked.
“Why were you talking to that faggot?” One of them asked.
“Because I can.” You scoffed and crossed your arms.
“Excuse me?” They replied.
“You heard me.” You spit back. You looked back at Dylan who was watching. You grabbed his arm and pulled him towards you.
“As a matter of fact, I’m going on a date with him.” You stated out of the blue, trying to make your friends mad.
“You are?” They asked angrily.
“We are?” Dylan whispered.
“Yes we are! At…uh…BlackJack’s on uh…Saturday at 6:00!” You said. You looked up at Dylan.
“Uh, yeah! Saturday at 6! Yeah…” he said nervously.
“Y/N you’re going to have to choose between us or him, because we will not tolerate a friend who dates losers like this faggot.” They stated. You sat there thinking. You look back and fourth between Dylan and your so-called “friends.”
“Him.” You said.
“Huh?” Dylan asked.
“Excuse me?” They said.
“That’s right. I choose Dylan.”
“What the hell is wrong with you, we’re so much better than him!” They said.
“Check your facts, douches.” You retorted before walking away and pulling Dylan with you.
“Why’d you do that back there? They were your friends and I’m just…me.” Dylan said after a while.
“I like you, Dylan. You’re a sweet boy. And to be honest, I hated them anyway.” You said with a smile, and he smiled too.
“So…is Saturday actually a thing now?” He asked. You looked up at him and smiled.
“Sure. BlackJack’s on Saturday at six.”


Right now, I sort of skipped some prompts since I was thinking all day for stories for a few of them and couldn’t think of any. As always, enjoy!


Although Sylvie knew she could sing, it was also something she was self-conscious about.

It was one of those things that she wasn’t sure she was ready to show Antonio. Probably because it was something that always felt like it was hers and hers alone.

“What time do you think you will be home?” She asked into the phone. Antonio called her to let her know that he would be home a little later. It wasn’t work-related but he wanted to check in with his mom.

He invited Sylvie to go visit her, but Sylvie politely declined. As much as she liked her, she knew Antonio may want to vent about Laura and with Sylvie there, he would hold back on a lot of things to say. She hated that Antonio wouldn’t confide in her when it came to Laura, but she understood since she was the reason why they almost broke up for good before.

“Maybe in two hours. Plenty in time for dinner.” He promised.

With Harrison, Sylvie hated cooking dinner but that was because he expected her to. He expected when he got home from work that dinner would be on the table. But with Antonio, Sylvie could make soup and he would be satisfied with that. Because of that, she loved cooking him dinner on her days off.

“Okay.” She nodded her head. “I’ll see you then. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He said in return as he hung up the phone.

Sylvie looked around his apartment and smiled softly. She couldn’t believe how happy she was with Antonio. A lot of times he would try to get them to do something fun but now Sylvie was content on staying home and watching moves. It was weird because this was the stuff Cruz wanted and Sylvie didn’t. She didn’t want to feel stuck at home, watching movies with her boyfriend. Since that’s all she ever did with Harrison, she wanted a change.

But things were different with Antonio than it was with Harrison and even Cruz. With Harrison, she may loved him. Obviously she did since she was going to marry him, but their relationship lacked passion. Truthfully she thought passion was something that only happened in movies. That no couple could be together in real life and have a burning passion for each other but that was exactly what she felt for Antonio.

And with Cruz, that was more friendship than anything. She couldn’t lie and say she didn’t enjoy their relationship because she did. He showed her that even though she was starting over, she shouldn’t give up on love and she was so glad that after their relationship ended they remained good friends.

However, with Antonio, he was everything she ever wanted and more. She didn’t think she deserved this type of love, or that it even existed. Or that she could find a nice guy that also had a bad boy edge to himself. She trusted Antonio, she knew without a doubt that he would never hurt her, he would never cheat on her. But he could also drive her crazy.

Thinking about crazy, she needed to straighten up this apartment. She was doing yoga in here all morning and the mess in here was all because of her. But even knowing that, the mess was driving her crazy. If Antonio walked in on this mess, he would wonder what happened here.

She walked over to the radio and turned it on. She started dancing to the beat of the music. As she cleaned up, she started singing the song.

There were really only two times she ever sang and that was when she was cleaning or taking a shower. And god, she loved when she sang because she blocked out the outside world and just focus on feeling good.

That was never a problem but it was now.

She was singing to the music and cleaning so she didn’t notice the door opening until Antonio cleared his throat.

Sylvie jumped back and her eyes widened. She wasn’t expecting Antonio to walk in for another two hours. She didn’t even start dinner yet.

“W—what are you doing here?” She stammered out of breath. Crap talk about busted. She was busted, more busted than she has ever been. This was a side of herself she was trying to hide from him.

“You can sing?” He asked, amused. “How did I not know this?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Because I don’t sing.” She said, flatly.

“Why not?” His questioning continued. “I’m not saying sing for the world, but I feel offended that I’m your boyfriend and I didn’t know this.”

“Well, there is probably things you can do that I don’t know about.” She pointed out.

“Maybe.” He agreed, sensing that she wanted to drop the subject. “Have you started cooking dinner yet?” He asked.

She was relieved when he switched the topic. “No, why?” She asked as she walked over and turned off the radio. It wasn’t loud but felt like it was on for no reason now.

“Let’s go out to eat.” He said as he walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her. “My mom wants to spend time with both of us and felt offended that you didn’t come.”

“I’m sorry, I just thought maybe you wanted to spend time alone with her.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But let me get dressed real fast and then we can leave.” She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. “Give me 10 minutes, okay?” She suggested.

“Sure.” He nodded his head. “Sorry about this.”

“Are you kidding me? I don’t get to cook and can spend time with your mom, it’s a win-win for me.” She smiled softly and walked away, heading into the bedroom.

Do you ever just

Think about people that died years ago, that you never knew and only ever heard studies about or read about

And get overwhelmed thinking about the lives they lived and the changes they saw

And wish you could talk to them, just once, to tell them how much they mean to you and how much they’ve helped you even though they’re gone

Because I do and let me tell you I’m damned emotional right now

I wound up at a friend’s Gay Underwear House Party the other night. Do you know how terrifying it is being the only trans person in a room full of cis gay dudes and having a hot guy grope you and praying internally he can’t tell you’re packing? Moving your body around slightly so that he doesn’t manipulate the rubber in such a way that he can tell it’s fake

It all went fine and nobody could tell as far as I knew but god my heart raced

2x14 thoughts

This episode mightily impressed me. The Seelie Court was beautiful. 

I am going to pretend that the whole Jace/Clary/Simon thing never happened, because I really am so over all three of them. 

I fell in love with Raphael just that little bit more. He is that sarcastic son, challenging his father (Magnus) and I love it. But also, he walked away from Izzy, which was the right thing to do, but that doesn’t mean it was easy. I think they do really care about each other now the Yin Fen is out of the way. Raphael is a true gent. 

Alec is going to be the best leader that the Shadowhunters have ever seen. He is going to drag the Clave kicking and screaming into acceptance and tolerance and he will bridge the gap between Shadowhunters and Downworlders. I could not be more proud of him.

SEBASTIAN IS FINALLY BEING EVIL. YES! I mean, we all knew he was evil, but it’s a whole different thing when you actually see it. 

I love Luke, but I don’t really know what he was thinking. Of course, Valentine has wronged literally everyone and they have all lost people they love because of him and from that side, I understand it. But why would he trust some random stranger over a burner phone and go against Alec, who is not stupid and is really trying to help everyone deal with everything that has happened?

Character development award goes to Maryse Lightwood. She is doing so well and I am glad to see she really is proud of Alec and Izzy. She is also seemingly accepting of Alec too, which is amazing and such a huge leap forward from where she has been for a lot of the show. She deserves better than the cheater that is Robert Lightwood.

I still love seeing the Downworlders all meeting up and getting in a room together. 

Yeah, so I think that is everything from this episode in terms of my thoughts. I will probably add to this if anything else strikes me, especially if I decide to watch it again. Overall, I really love this episode. 

anonymous asked:

Your blog is lovely! I have a short prompt: just a character saying "hey, are you okay? You going to puke?"

((A/N: This takes place back when Foster and Rory were in high school))

Rory’s stomach cramped again, making a cold sweat break out across his forehead. He tried to focus on the notes in front of him, but his hand was shaking so badly he could barely write.

Thirty more minutes. He could make it that long.

His stomach growled, and even though no one seemed to notice, he felt like everyone could hear his distress. The last thing he wanted to do was call attention to himself, but as he felt something hot and sour bubble up from his stomach, he knew it was officially a lost cause.

Swallowing rapidly, he raised his hand.

“Do you have a question, Rory?” the teacher asked.

He shook his head, swallowing again. “No, I…Can I please be excused?”  

His condition must have been obvious, because the teacher didn’t bother asking any questions before granting permission.

He stood, his legs wobbling so much that he feared they’d give out, and shuffled towards the door, his face burning with humiliation. His stomach flipped suddenly, and no amount of swallowing could stop the wave that it brought.

He barely had time to lean forward before his stomach lurched, emptying itself onto the classroom floor. He could hear his classmates scramble to get away from him, a few of them laughing nervously as he vomited again.

He knew he was crying, but he couldn’t stop himself. Everything hurt, and he’d just humiliated himself in front of his whole class.

He heard one of his classmate’s voices above all the disgusted shrieks. “I’ll take him to the nurse.”

There was a pause before the teacher answered. “Fine, yes. But come straight back, understand?”

Someone handed him a wastebasket, which he gratefully hugged to his chest as he was guided around the puddle he’d made and out the classroom door. He didn’t even trust himself to look up until they were in the hallway.


It was the last person he expected to be escorting him to the school nurse.

Foster looked down at him. “Yeah?”

“Nothing. Just…uh…thanks.”

“No problem. Sorry your first time back at school isn’t going great.”

That cut through Rory’s misery. “How…how did you know it was my first year back?”

“I remember you. We were in elementary school together, back when your name was–”

Rory’s chest tightened in panic, but Foster stopped himself.

“Well, doesn’t matter. Point is, I remember you.”

Rory remembered Foster, too. He’d been one of the more popular kids, well-liked by all their peers and nearly always in trouble with the teachers. They’d talked a few times, but other than that, Rory had no reason to think that Foster even knew he existed.

“It’s good to see you back,” Foster said suddenly. Rory felt his face heat. He was about to say that it was good to be back when his stomach churned, bringing on a new wave of nausea that stopped him in his tracks. Foster paused beside him.

“You okay? You gonna puke?”

Rory shrugged. Then he lurched forward with a belch, spilling more of his breakfast into the wastebasket. The next heave that came was much more forceful, sending his stomach contents splashing into the bucket hard enough that it even came out of his nose. The third wave came before he’d even had a chance to take a breath. He choked, his head spinning.

Foster caught him around the middle before he’d even realized that is was him, not the hallway, that was tilting.

“Easy, man. I’ve got you.” Foster helped ease him to the ground, keeping a hand on his shoulder to keep him steady. “Just take your time. We’re in no rush.”

Rory gagged, hanging his head miserably over the wastebasket as bile dribbled down his chin. “I really don’t feel good.”

“Yeah, I know.” Foster’s voice was soft. “When you’re ready, we’ll get you to the nurse. Then you can go home and rest.”