about two months late but

I’m still not over the fact that at the end of episode 5, when Genos tells Saitama he’ll be back later and runs off, sad guitar music starts playing and Saitama looks all unhappy and lonely, it’s like he thought Genos wouldn’t ever show up again, and honestly this entire episode is proof that Saitama enjoys Genos’ company alright, he was obviously having fun spending time with him and when it was time to say goodbye, you could see all of his energy and liveliness leaving him, and he caved so easily when Genos asked to moved in and hasn’t used any of Genos’ money, and long story short, Saitama actually really likes Genos okay, likes having him in his space, likes spending time with him and cares about him 

Behave - Bruce Wayne x Amazon!Reader

Summary : You’re Diana Prince’s, aka Wonder Woman, little sister…And you’ve always been the rebel amongst the amazons, the black sheep. You left long ago, and got hitch with the famous Bruce Wayne, when a problem  brings you back to your home island of Themyscira.

Warning for language and mention of NSFW stuffs.

My masterlist blog : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com


-(Y/N), are you going to behave ? 

It’s always the same question. Over and over again. Yeah ok, true, you weren’t the calmest kid and your curiosity often lead to a lot of troubles but…Diana was kinda the same and no one ever told her to “behave”. 

Even now, as you were a grown ass woman, it was this good old question, that you just couldn’t stand anymore. It was moments like this, that made you glad you left all those years ago. 


Being Diana little sister wasn’t easy. It wasn’t easy at all. When you were born, much in the same way than her, molded in clay and brought to life by Zeus, your big sister was already a hero. 

She was already adulated by all on Themyscira island. Everyone always told you : “You see Diana ? Be like Diana”…And in a sense, you became a bit like her. 

Only, when the other amazons told you to take Diana as an example, they were talking about how well she fought, about her principles and other things like that ! Not her…stubbornness and strong will. 

Ultimately, being strong willed was a good thing but…Well, the only thing you took after your sister is the way she has, sometimes, that “I do whatever I want” kind of persona. But maybe a bit to much to the extreme. 

Because as a child, Diana listened to your mother, your aunt (that you unfortunately never met but heard a lot about), and other amazons while you ? You, you had trouble with authorities. 

You couldn’t stand people ordering you around. You hated when someone said you couldn’t do something…But the worst was that their explanation as to why you had to do things they said were stupid. 

“Do as I said because I’m an adult and I know better”, who decided of that ? “Don’t do that, we’ll explain to you later why you can’t do it”, that was so dumb ! Instead of explaining to you why you couldn’t do things, they’d just expect you to follow their order and…well, that wasn’t your nature. 

Besides, it was almost unbearable to always be compared to Diana. To always hear that she was better than you because of this, or because of that…Fortunately, you didn’t grew to resent her, but you did start to resent your entire people. 

None of them understood you. Not even your mother. 

Keep reading

askcaitlinthehedgehog  asked:

I'm sorry if your not doing these at the moment but can you please do B1 with Mooching Hobo

this level of cuteness should be illegal

Hobo belongs to @loverofpiggies

Two Hundred And Four Reasons

Spartan-117 & Spartan-087

[Preface] // [Part 1] // [Part 2] // [Part 3] // [Part 4] // [Part 5] // [Part 6] // [Part 7]

With this past month marking the 4-year anniversary of this blog, I was somewhat at a loss as to what to do to commemorate the occasion…until I remembered there was one more thing I could post as an addendum to my essay series chronicling the development of John-117 and Kelly-087′s relationship throughout Halo canon. There were a few additional pieces of media featuring SPARTAN-II Blue Team that were released in the wake of 2015′s ‘Halo 5: Guardians’ that I think are worth taking a quick look at in regards to how they carry on the tradition of highlighting the bond between a certain Blue-One and Blue-Two.

Through All These Years

The first of the two is an animated miniseries (though more akin to a motion-comic) that loosely adapts the content of both the novel ‘The Fall of Reach’ and its comic book counterpart (which I’ve previously discussed). Like the comic before it though, this miniseries includes a few minor details that differ from the original source text in interesting ways.

The second is a short story from the comic anthology ‘Tales From Slipspace’, called “On The Brink”, and features some panels and dialogue that I feel are very relevant to the content I’ve analyzed so far in regards to Kelly-087′s character and her dynamic with John-117.

Keep reading


“…what, general, like a cape? you’re like a superhero!”
“w - well, you’re my hero, preston!!”

WHAAT IT’S DONE. finally! :D this is my half of an art trade with the incredible @defenestratin, featuring their sole survivor malcom reeves with preston! thanks to my being ill, this piece is months in the making - but i adore mal, so this was absolutely a real treat to do either way. ;3; i’m glad to finally finish it! thanks again for trading with me, sou, and for being so patient. ♥ ♥ ♥

also: please check out their half HERE, i’m completely in love with it. *u*

Bright as a Flame, Soft as a Rose

Summary: A fluffy Elucien florist AU (with some angst because Lucien is at least 35% angst at all times) 
Length: 8.5k
Rating: Teen and Up
Read it on AO3
This was originally written for @acotarshipweek‘s Elucien week prompt: Florist AU. Sorry about it being two months late. Elain’s date dress is based off @meabh’s infamous Elucien drawing. Thank you to my lovely beta, @merflk. Thank you also to @rileylefae who put up with me screaming at her about this fic at all times the past two months while she was sleeping or at work, and for fateful discussions about biker!Lucien. Love you, darling.

Elain had almost finished her botany homework when the bell on the door jingled, alerting her to a customer. She quickly slid the diagrams of plants underneath the counter, and put on the pleasant smile she wore when anyone was looking.

Whoever the customer was, they took their time through the little florist’s shop, looking at the candles and potpourri and fake bouquets towards the front of the store.  She heard a quiet “shit,” in a masculine voice, cut off just as quickly as it began, as if he felt he shouldn’t swear in such a place. It was then that she leaned against the counter, already knowing who she’d be dealing with.

Elain loved her job at this quiet shop, surrounded by flowers. The owner was an older woman who was too ancient at this point to do much, and so Elain worked long hours around her college classes, doing her homework when there was no one there, essentially running the place. It was quite apparent the owner was grooming Elain to take over when she retired, and Elain was delighted at the prospect. Though she was here for the flowers, the customer service side of things could be surprisingly interesting. She delighted in seeing the messages that were attached to the extravagant bouquets they delivered, loved to see the stories that came attached to sunflowers or orchids or roses and baby’s breath. A disappointing amount stoked the fire that burned in her chest when she thought about the horribleness of the human race (“sorry I forgot your birthday” “sorry I forgot our fiftieth anniversary” “sorry I got drunk and slept with your twin because I thought it was you”); the real gems were those that made her heart melt, surprisingly few and far between (“Happy Birthday!” “Congratulations!” “I love you”). Having taken numerous orders, she was used to certain customer-types, could guess with accuracy which category their message would fall into. A man that swore inside a florist’s, wandering around awkwardly as if he didn’t want to face the worker? Definitely the first.

But she almost wished she could be wrong as he came into sight.

Red hair, bright as a flame, just long enough to run her fingers through. A finely boned face she never wanted to stop looking at. A body cut enough to mean he exercised, while not being so built it meant he exercised for his looks. Wearing khaki slacks and dress shoes and a light blue button down with sleeves pushed up, leaving his muscled forearms on display. Most striking was the ragged scar that stretched from above his eye down to one cheek, through a golden eye made of glass. If anything, it only enhanced his beauty.

She might have drooled a little before she shook herself back to the present. A boy that pretty, dressed that preppy? Definitely apologizing for a stupid, gross mistake that’s he’s not really sorry for.

He finally wandered over to the counter, wiping a bead of bright red blood off his thumb. He must have touched one of the roses by the front, thinking it was fake, before finding its thorns very real. “Hello,” he said. “I’m looking to purchase a bouquet.”

“Did you have a specific one in mind?” she asked, trying to keep her voice normal.

He hesitated before admitting, “no.” She laughed to herself over his discomfort over being at a florist’s.

She stepped out from behind the counter, beginning to walk around the store and show him their different flowers, their different bouquet styles. “May I ask the occasion?”

He grimaced. “My best friend recently got into kind of a big fight with his girlfriend. He asked me to get a bouquet he could bring to her to help patch things up.”

She blinked. Someone not even picking out their own apology flowers was a new low.

“Well,” she continued smoothly, the light shining from this man like that of heaven itself suddenly dimming. Who thought picking out apology flowers for your friend was okay? “How big is ‘big’?”

“Big,” he said, his voice suddenly sad. “We’re prepared to spare no expense.”

“May I suggest one of our larger bouquets then?”

He hadn’t been lying about how much he was willing to spend, and it didn’t take much convincing for him to purchase a monstrosity of calla lilies and freesias and ferns worth more then her weekly wage.

Yep, she thought as she rung him up. Rich and preppy and expensive and an asshole. Not going to happen.

She gave him a bright smile. “Would you like to fill out the card with your message?” She slid the little pink piece of cardstock over to him.

“Oh, uh, I think my friend should do that. Can I take it with me then bring it back when I pick the bouquet up to have you attach it?”

She blinked. “We do have a delivery service if you would prefer.”

“No,” he said. “My friend wanted to deliver them to her himself.”

“Well then, it should be ready in a couple of days. Could I have a number to call when it’s ready for pick up?”

He gave it, then left. Elain spent the rest of her shift trying to calm her racing heart.

Keep reading

Lonely ~ Draco Malfoy imagine

Can I have a draco imagine where draco and y/n are in a relationship and he keeps blowing her off for his friends and she gets really sad and finally he notices and he finds her in her room, reading and apologizes and then they make up?


After a long, boring day, you were so excited to get back to the Slytherin common room to meet up with your boyfriend, Draco Malfoy. You two have been together for about two months, and they’ve been great, but lately he has been a little distant. 

You stepped into the common room, and saw that Draco wasn’t there. You sighed and sat down in a chair near a corner of the room. You waited… And waited… And waited for him to walk in. 

He walked in about an hour later. You stood up and walked over to him. “I thought we were going to hang out today” You said, crossing your arms. 

“I know we were. I got caught up with Crabbe and Goyle. I’m sorry. I promise we’ll hang out tomorrow, okay?” He said. You sighed. “Okay” You said. Draco smiled at you and gave you a kiss before walking up to his dorm. You smiled weakly back. You waited a little while before going upstairs. You knew that he wasn’t going to be around tomorrow.


All throughout the week, Draco had been leaving you to hang out with Crabbe and Goyle or someone else. In fact, one time during the week, he walked right past you without saying anything. Not even giving you a glance. 

You were confused, and quite depressed from it. “Did I do something wrong?” You constantly asked yourself. 

You went outside to meet up with one of your Gryffindor friends. Unlike most of the Slytherin house, you liked to hang out with the other houses. You were kind and considerate of other people. 

Your Gryffindor friend, Dahlia Hill, came up to you, and gave you a quick hug. You both sat down on a bench, and she noticed that you were upset. “What’s wrong. (Y/N)?” She asked with a concerned expression on her face. You sighed and simply said “Draco”. She rolled her eyes. “What did he do now?”. You told her all about how he was leaving you to hang out with his friends. She was shaking her head the whole time. 

“I’m going to kill him” She said. You shrugged your shoulders, holding back your tears. It began to get dark outside. You both said your goodbyes, and headed to your houses. You went up to your dorm and collapsed onto your bed. You felt like just letting all the tears you’ve been holding back all day go. You took in a deep breath, and decided to distract yourself with a book. 

As you were reading, you heard footsteps come up the stairs. You ignored them. Suddenly, the door creaked open and you heard a familiar voice say “(Y/N)?”. As soon as you recognized the voice, you turned back to your book, and ignored him. Draco stepped in and walked towards you. “Are you okay?” He asked, sitting in front of you. You nodded. “No you’re not”. You slammed your book shut. 

“Maybe if you were here for me, you’d know why” You snapped. Draco just looked at you. “I’m really sorry, (Y/N)” He said. 

“I just wish you were around more. You never have time to be with me” You said, a tear falling down your cheek. Draco wiped it away with his thumb, and held your hand. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know that you felt that way”

You were silent

“I’ll make it up to you” He said


“I promise” He smirked. 

You smiled and gave him a kiss. 

“But first I have to go hang out with Crabbe” Draco said, motioning to leave the room. Your jaw dropped. He quickly ran back in. 

“Kidding! Just kidding!” He laughed. You laughed along and kissed him again. 

For the whole week, he kept his promise


Thank you for requesting!

falling back to you → a mix for nate & elena, from pirates off the coast of panama to new beginnings on a dock in new orleans, louisiana. (cover image by @zae-lynn!)

2hr22min of 40 songs & 40 artists, feat. all we know by the chainsmokers, backbeat by dagny, skinny love by bon iver, start of time by gabrielle aplin, bright by echosmith, and many more. 


anonymous asked:

how long do you think yoonbum have been trapped in sangwoo's house since the day he stepped his foot on it till current chapter ?

@rapidratkiller and I estimated:

Korean School festivals are in may, but they still wear jackets on the last chapter, though Koreans are more wary of the cold I believe. When Sangwoo was smoking outside a few chapters back, he wasn’t wearing a coat either- but Bum was wearing a parka when he was stalking Sangwoo, so it must have been much colder, so February? But early-mid February is lunar new year in Korea, so it must be later since we saw no depiction of it.

So about two months. From late february/early march to early may. 

It also takes about two months for a broken leg to heal, so, checks out?

i could spend tonight reading (both the wtnv novel and till we have faces ongoing) OR i could stay up til like 4am and finish stranger things…..

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?

Originally posted by brakespeareny

“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.  



Cause of death: Sakupyon being a total cutie pie (ft. Iguchi Yuka) [x]

Request: Our Fairytale Ending

Request: hey so could you please write and imagine where the reader is having deans baby but when she tells him she admits shes really scared bc she miscarried before (not any monster just medical reasons) then you dont have to show this part but in a part two or even just more of the imagine the reader is almost due then has a misscarriage again and show her and dean dealing with it? i know its sad but i need this thank you

Word Count: 1,675

Warning: Miscarriage.

Here it is, I hope you like it. If you need anything, I’m here, yeah? Thanks<3

Nerves churn at your stomach and you can’t seem to stop the shaking in your hands as you turn the small plastic stick over in your hands. You already know what it says – you’ve only been staring at it for the last ten minutes in pure horror.

Positive. Positive. Positive. The word ricochets around your head like a stray bullet and black spots filter your vision.

You shouldn’t be so scared. You know that. This is ridiculous. Last time was a one off, unfortunate, accidental occurrence, right? You’re okay. It’s okay. This is going to be okay.

You try to shake off the panic and force yourself to your feet, glancing yourself over in the mirror. You’re paler and scared-looking, so you pinch at your cheeks, splash some water in your face, and leave the bathroom. Taking a deep breath, you start looking around the bunker for your boyfriend.

“Dean? Are you here?” You call, looking down at the test clutched in your hand. He appears from the library’s doorway and grins at the sight of you.

“Hey, beautiful,” He says, grabbing you into a hug, “How are you?”

“I’m good,” You say into his shirt, wrapping your arms around him in return. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and you look up at him. His face changes to an expression of concern when he sees how nervous you look – you never were good at hiding your emotions from him.

“Y/N? Babe, are you alright?”

You nod, forcing a smile onto your face, “Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just…” You pull away from him so you can hand him the plastic stick. He frowns in confusion for a moment, then takes it from you.

“Y/N, what is this?”

“It’s an elephant.” You roll your eyes, “What do you think it is, Dean?”


You nod, “Yeah. That’s the fourth one I’ve done.” You affirm, running a hand through your hair. He lets out a laugh of pure joy, taking your face in his hands and pressing his lips firmly to yours.

No matter how happy you are, you can’t stop the nerves from boiling underneath. You know it’s probably just stupid, but you can’t help it. Last year, you’d done this whole thing – gotten excited at the prospect of a baby; of being parents, and it had all come crashing down around you when you’d miscarried at the very beginning of your fourth month. It hadn’t been anything do do with hunting, apparently, but just one unfortunate but common incident.

“Fourth. Woah.” He runs his thumb over your cheekbone, “How far…?”

“About a month and a half? I don’t know. I’m two weeks late, I know that much.” You say softly, lacing your fingers with his. He keeps staring at you and something inside, some kind of barrier, breaks down, “Dean, I’m scared.”


“Because of last time. Dean, what if it happens again? What if something happens or I’m just not good enough or…” You find tears gathering in your eyes, threatening to brim over and fall down your cheeks, “What if I can’t be a mom?”

Dean sighs, pulling you into him and rubbing at your back, “You can’t think like that, Y/N. It’ll be fine, you’ll see. It’s usually just a one time thing, you remember what the doctor said? It doesn’t mean anything. You’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. You’ll see.” He brings a hand around to rest on your stomach, looking down at you with a smile, “We’ll get our fairytale ending.”


So much for that. Everything had passed, up until that moment, without any major drama or distress. You’d both stopped hunting, gone to regular appointments; done everything by the book. You’d been so careful not to exert yourself; to eat right; you hadn’t touched so much as a drop of alcohol, avoided smoking – even people who smoked. You’d taken every single damn precaution and yet, somewhere in the middle of your seventh month, you’d woken with blinding pains shooting through your abdomen and you just knew.

The next few hours are a blur of pain and trauma and tears that you can’t quite remember properly. There were hospital lights and a lot of white and somewhere, in the distance, Dean was talking to you – more like at you, for you felt like you were on another planet somewhere. You hardly remember anything until you’re in the car on the way back to the bunker – morning has just broken, the sky streaked with orange light that maybe, in a different situation, you’d think of as one of the most beautiful things in the world.

“Y/N?” Dean asks, probably for the hundredth time since yesterday, “How are you getting on?”

“I’m fi-” You cut yourself off. You’re not fine. You’re not fine at all. You’re the furthest from fine that you’ve ever been. Dean reaches over the console, finding your hand and squeezing it tight. He’s fractured inside, sure, but you’re his priority. If you’re not okay, nothing is.

“It’s okay.” He whispers over the radio. It’s turned right down but still playing something that your brain can’t quite process, “Take as long as you need, alright?”

You nod silently, leaning your head back on the headrest. The amount of times you’ve fallen asleep like this…

Dean doesn’t let go of your hand the whole way home.

Once you’re parked up in the bunker, he quickly gets out of the car and before you have time to so much as open the door, he’s done it for you. He slips a hand beneath your knees and another around your back, scooping you into his arms like you’re a child again. You’re about to protest but the comfort and warmth and safety of his embrace is too much for you to resist and you wrap your arms around him and bury your head in the crook of his neck.

“It’s okay, babe,” He whispers, squeezing you gently, “It’s okay. We’ll be okay.”

You don’t reply, and instead try to block everything out. He takes you through to the kitchen and sits you down on the counter while he fixes a cup of tea. Pressing it into your hands, he stays close to you.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, looking at him pitifully. Dean shakes his head, running a hand over your shoulder and down your arm.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I do.” You say softly, “I’m sorry because I can’t do anything right and I’m sorry because I can’t give you what you want – don’t say you don’t because I know you do. I’m sorry because I can’t give you your fairytale ending.” You barely even notice the tears streaming down your face like they’re in some kind of race. You clutch the tea in your hands and close your eyes tightly, against the emotions threatening to wash over you. The mug is too hot against your skin but you don’t care because the pain inside is double; triple.

“Y/N…” Dean slowly, gently, disentangles your fingers from the mug and places it on the side, pulling you into his arms, “Don’t, okay? You’re my fairytale ending. You. Nothing more. You’re all I need; all I want. You have nothing to apologise for. This is not your fault.” He pulls you close to him, letting you cry into his shirt. Seeing you broken like this hurts him so much – you’ve spent so long being strong, pretending like things didn’t bother you, like you could get through anything. You had a wall built so high and he had to fight so long to get through it; to get you to open up to him. But, still, you’d been so strong, only showing emotion when you needed to. Yet, here you are, shattered into a thousand tiny pieces and he has no idea where to start putting you back together.

“It’s all my fault. I’m not good enough.” You sob into his shirt, “Why can’t we have our fairytale ending?! Haven’t we done enough? Been through enough?” He can feel hot tears soaking into his skin and yet all he can do is hold you close and let you cry.

“I don’t know, Y/N. I wish I did,” He whispers into your hair, tears gathering in his own eyes and dripping down his cheeks, “I wish I did.”

It seems to take forever for you to cry yourself out, openly sobbing into his chest like there’s nothing else in the world to care about. Right now, there isn’t.

“Come on,” He prompts, when he hears you calming yourself down slowly, “Let’s get some sleep, yeah?”

You nod agreeably, hopping down from the counter and taking his hand in yours. You take a long, deep breath, and he can almost see the moment you slip the passive mask into place. Your eyes are still red and puffy, though, but you act as if they aren’t. He laces his fingers with yours, taking note of how cold your hands are. You lead him through to the bedroom and climb into bed silently.

He pulls you closer to him and you rest your head on his arm, draping one of your hands over him. He uses his other arm to brush your hair out of your face, making the movement again and again, repetitive and soothing.

After a few minutes, when you’re resting on the brink of sleep, Sam opens the door.

“Are you okay?” He whispers. Dean looks at his brother, then down to you.

“I think we will be.” Dean offers a weak smile, and Sam nods, before closing the door again and leaving you alone. It’s true, you think to yourself as you drift off. You will be okay – maybe not today; maybe not tomorrow. But you will be, because you have each other.

Runaways, the classic Marvel comic, is coming to Hulu. Here’s what we know.
The cast and producers have shared some intriguing new details.
By Todd VanDerWerff

This is interesting (and discovered about two months late). If you have not read the comic, do not read my commentary because ~SPOILERS~!

Hulu’s version of Runaways has kept the basic idea of its source material, but Schwartz said that Vaughan wrote Runaways’ first run — which ended after just 18 issues — in a rush, constantly thinking it would be canceled out from under him. So those first 18 issues are packed with huge twists, and they set up and resolve an entire story arc.

The series will follow the books — but not to the point of utter faithfulness. In particular, said Marvel Television’s Jeph Loeb, he liked that slowing down some of the storytelling would allow many players who were backgrounded in the comics to benefit from stronger character development.

What characters were backgrounded?

Just how much the show will focus on the parents in addition to the kids remains to be seen. But all involved seemed to talk as if the show is hoping to set up the kids’ parents as villains for seasons to come — as opposed to resolving the kids-versus-parents conflict in season one, as might be suggested by those first 18 issues of the comics.

This is super interesting! I definitely felt like after the Pride went down, the story flailed about trying to find a focus. So making the parents the long-term antagonists is very appealing to me, especially if we’re exploring the parents more. To the their children, they appeared as contributing, philanthropic, influential, law-abiding community figures (I mean, Chase didn’t and Gert was happy to rail against the System) and I hope that duplicity and the layered aspect of raising children protected from the reality gets peeled back and explore.

My hesitation in approaching live action adaptations always takes into consideration the special effects you need. Runaways is gonna need so many effects. I love the story, I love the central conflict, but is it gonna look cringey on the screen? D: