all that time apart all that bitterness and his instinct is still to turn to her

|| True Love ||

[prompt: soulmate au where you and your soulmate are connected by a visible red string where only a few people can see.]

ohhh boy, this is going to be told in a different way than most of my other peter parker imagines in that there is a third character involved (much like how ||a different story|| was) and how it is based on reader and peter’s relationship through THEIR eyes.

Once you read the story, you’ll know what I mean ;)

warnings: none

permanent tags: @psychicwitchphilosopher , @pharaohkiller , @moonlight53

peter parker only tags: @buckysendoftheline , @1022bridgetp , @potterjamesharry

**don’t plagiarize/repost this story. reblogs are fine**


Flash never knew the reason why he was given this ‘gift’ of being able to see everyone’s red string of fate.

Now, being a sophomore in high school, Flash didn’t need to worry about seeing any of the red strings connected to anyone else since everyone was too young to have found their soulmate at such an early age. Sure, it was an annoyance to see the constant bits of red in his periphery, but in a way, the young man was used to it.

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Alright, it’s time to talk about a character you’ve likely all been waiting for…

Yup. Old bait breath and everyone’s favorite rich, creepy dimwit.

Vlad certainly has gotten popular over the years, and not without good reason. He’s a superb villain, and the show wouldn’t be the same without him. He’s funny, threatening, and interesting. All the things you need in a good villain. In particular, what’s always made him so interesting to me is the fact that he’s an absolutely disgusting man, but it’s hard not to sympathize with him somewhat and see how he came to be that way.

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Precious Cargo

Request: Hey, I love your imagines and was wondering if I could request a newt x reader? Maybe where like newt and the reader are dating, or like engaged, and the reader is pregnant (but no one but she herself knows it). And like newt and the gang go into battle and the reader ends up passing out. And then when she comes too, they’ve found out she’s pregnant? And maybe like an argument with reader and newt about why she didn’t tell him). HIGHKEY ANGST ANGST ANGST THANK YOU AND MAYBE-JUST MAYBE SOME FLUFF

Word Count: 3,178

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Requested by Anonymous

Requests are currently open! Feel free to send one in

Pushing your chair back, you stand from the dinner table that Queenie, Tina, and Newt sit at, laughing over a joke Tina heard at work. Newt’s eyes shine when he glances at you, and he places three fingers to his lips to hide the growing smile. Blushing, you smile back and begin clearing the plates from the table.

Your ring clicks against Queenie’s plate when you lift it, and you don’t bother trying to hide the smile that appears. She’ll be able to read your elation anyway.
In mock horror, Queenie turns to Newt. “Mr. Scamander, making her clear the table on her own? Is that anyway to treat your fiancée?”

Newt beams at your two-day old title. “I suppose it isn’t.” He places his balled-up napkin on the table, stands, and reaches to take the plates from you. “She shouldn’t have to lift a finger.”

You spin the diamond ring on your finger, melting under Newt’s look of pure adoration. Your stomach flutters and twirls. He tilts his head—such an adorable habit of his—and you want to be much closer.

Tina clears her throat, uncomfortable with the starry look the two of you are holding over the table. “Maybe we should go.”

Queenie giggles. “Come on, sis, let’s leave the two lovebirds alone.”

You tear your eyes from Newt’s dazzling ones. “Oh no, don’t –“ You start to say, but trail off at Queenie’s eye roll and understanding smirk.

The two disappear into the stairwell and close the front door as Newt sets the stack of plates down. The floor creaks as he steps around the table.

The smell of nutmeg, pine, and the wind surround you as Newt nears. His soft hand lifts yours, drawing it closer to his face where he can inspect the shimmering diamond.

“I’m glad you said yes.” A wisp of red hair drifts in front of his eyes as he lifts his gaze to yours, head still bent.

“I’m glad you asked,” you tease, heart hammering against your ribs like it wants to break out.

Newt drops your hand, smile quirking up the corners of his lips as he brushes a thumb over your cheekbone. “I would’ve been the biggest fool not to.”

“I can’t believe we’re engaged.”

“My mother’s going to have a heart attack when the owl arrives.”

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Behind Closed Doors | Two

Originally posted by defsouljb

Genre: More Fluff This Chapter, Still Angst 😞, Mature Content 😏 (Cursing, Drinking, Smoking)

Pairing: MafiaLeader!Jaebum x fem!reader

Previous Chapter

Week One

From the moment you met Jaebum that day in the bar after a stressful day at work and him trying to ‘drink the shitty things I’ve done away’ you knew there was something about him that was different. Now whether or not that was a good or bad different only sparked your interest in him even more. He was just a charming guy wanting to get drunk and forget the world—he was just your type.

You tried hard to forget the memories of the previous night, the candlelight dinner with the wine and the slow dancing—God you had let yourself crumbled from his touch. His hands last night caressed your body, fingers gliding across every sensitive part of your he could see. You hated yourself for making it that easy for him to get into your panties but yet here you were in bed, his bed blushing and smiling as you covered yourself with the black blanket even more.

You felt him stir for a second before settling down and sighing to himself. He was awake, he only did that the moment his eyes opened in the morning. He coughed, and you were lucky that your back was to him. You were full of panic at the thought of having to face him eventually. Maybe if you closed your eyes and went back to sleep…

“I know you’re up, you move around a lot when you’re too lazy to get out of bed.” There was a bittersweet feeling to his tone. As if he was trying to get you to go back to the sweet times where waking up next to him was the best feeling in the world, but really you both knew that right now, this shit was the effect of a bitter night of drinking away the hurt both of you had.

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OUAT Mini-Review 6x11: Tougher Than The Rest

We’re baaaaack! At last I can leave the anti-rumple tag, which I’ve been in so long I started to get brochures about time shares, and go back to snarking on everyone. Oh, happy day! Let’s dive into that enchanted overnight wardrobe together. Ready?

  1. Someone needs to talk to Emma about her eyebrow situation– she looks perpetually surprised and slightly upset. That’s how most Rumbellers felt all of 6A so I feel you, Emma– but Kabuki Eyebrows are not the look for spring. Change the fate on your face first, yes?
  2. Teen!August looked nothing like either Adult!August or Kid!August but maybe that’s a subtle meta-commentary on unreliable narrators? Discuss.
  3. Kid!Emma looks like she could punch you in the face and I admire that. It’s tough to glare in a beanie, but she’s got it down. I love that she chose her own name, too.
  4. I don’t know why they needed a magic chisel when Pinocchio could just chew the scenery all the way down to Storybrooke. But while I disliked the O.G. bobble-headed liar I really liked Wish!August, daddy issues and all. I even liked that Original!August was typing on the Mystery Fakeout Typewriter in the garage so he wouldn’t wake his Papa. Such a nice boy. I guess this episode was about Redeeming Non-viable Stubbly Love Interests– I’m not sure we needed that, but it was nice to see. (Now, where’s Walsh?)
  5. Wish!August carved a wooden swan (ship name call-out!) out of instinct, and Wish!Robin had his feather and didn’t age (along with Wish!Sheriff Nottingham), implying that there IS a connection between the Wish!realm and the “real” realm. Maybe all Wish!Robins go to heaven?
  6. Wish!Robin is bitter and salty and somehow I liked him better than the real thing. Wish!Robin and Regina had more of a believable connection in this episode than all of S3-5 for me, which just goes to show when you slow down and have people talk to one another instead of just screaming at monsters in the same frame magic can happen. 
  7. Regina gets hit with the Anti-magic Slap Bracelet of Convenient Plot-points … but wasn’t that brought to Storybrooke by Greg/Tamara/Peter Pan? How would it appear in the Wish!verse? (Cue Wish!Rumple reading “Circuitry and Plot Holes for Dummies.”)
  8. I know we’re supposed to sympathize that Regina’s super glum that this realm seems to be “better off without her” but, you know, she DID drop a lot of bodies. I want Regina to love herself and re-integrate post-haste because it’s healthy  … and also because Split!EvilQueen has killed three people and screwed with Belle. But I am here for Happy!Regina– let’s see more of that this season.
  9. Wish!Hook was there for comedic effect, and it worked for me! Nice to know he’s still got his swagger in this realm; I didn’t even mind the potbelly. What would you rather, a bag of bones?
  10. Speaking of which … So Wish!Snow and Charming never checked Regina’s tower for prisoners, which is why Wish!Belle starved to death along with who knows how many others? This is why Regina is mayor. This is why Regina will ALWAYS be mayor. Remember in S2 when the curse broke and everyone was running around trying to find their loved ones and Charming just gave a speech about hope, when it turned out Regina had binders that scrupulously recorded everyone’s real name, cursed name, and address because she’s a giant nerd who takes her real-life SIMS game seriously? Regina may kill the odd peasant when she’s having a bad day but she’s the Project Manager Storybrooke needs, is what I’m saying.
  11. If Belle was dead for 28 years when Rumple found her skeleton, how did he know it was her? Did Belle claw a goodbye message in the walls before she died? “DEAR RUMPLE SORRY WE NEVER BANGED XOXO BELLE.”
  12. Also, that wasn’t remotely a full skeleton Rumple dropped on the ground. What did he do with the re– you know what? I don’t wanna know. (Note to fic writers: I don’t want to see the words “sad wanking” and “tibia” in the same sentence, okay? O-KAY?)
  13. Gideon wants to be a hero, like his mom, by stabbing someone, like his dad. I love it. Gideon is a tall emo drink of Angsty Monk and I totally would– but where are his lips? #PoofGideonLips2k17
  14. When Rumple had his tete-to-eyes-all-the-way-up-here-tete with Gideon and went: “You’ve been alive for 28 years, I’ve been alive for centuries. There are things a man learns …” I thought for a second it was going to turn into a rather-late-in-the-day explanation of the birds and the bees. “Your mother has written this pamphlet with some of her favorite positions, but you have to be a bit flexible to– wait, where are you going?”
  15. Do you think Belle has her wardrobe categorized by mood? Her white fur coat ensemble was filed under “I’m Trustworthy But I Like to Bang Dangerous People.”
  16. Unless the script read: “RUMPLE sneaks off STAGE LEFT while BELLE awkwardly goose-steps off STAGE RIGHT” the director has some explaining to do. That was the worst example of “walk casual” I’ve ever seen, unless they just had an angsty parental quickie in the alley or something.
  17. Speaking of weird directorial choices, where’s the missing scene between Belle and Gideon? At the well Belle intimates that Hook/Charming “betrayed her trust”– but she just asked them to hold off until she could talk to Gideon. That was during the day and then all of a sudden it’s night, Belle’s changed outfits, she hasn’t talked to Gideon, and she says she “protected [Gideon] knowing what he wanted to do.” Er, was this off-screen? I know a lot of Rumbelle is reading between the lines but sometimes things need to make it in the episode, you guys. Maybe next episode will have a Belle/Gideon conversation and they didn’t want to be too repetitive?
  18. Way to ruin your mom’s clock tower, Gideon! I know some people were mad at Belle for staying on the Jolly Roger in 6A instead of in her library apartment … but do you know how many times the clock tower has been broken into by villains? Maid!Joanna died there, Hook was tied up there, Rumple tried to massacre nuns there, Maleficent was in the basement for 28 years, I think Dark Swan hung out there once … Belle would never get any rest up there, is what I’m saying.
  19. Charming is going off the rails on a sleep-deprived crazy train and I’m here for it. But remember, Snow is the brains of this particular operation. Tag her back in before you drop of exhaustion, yes? No more than three Red Bulls at a time.
  20. I’m all for the message that you can change your fate, but this is intimating the writers are taking “Killing Emma” off the table of options, no? That leaves either depowering-via-shears, sleeping curse until a “cure” is found, or some kind of Hail Mary-Margaret shenanigans in the finale involving a mass-TLK or something. *bites fingernails* I can’t stand the suspense!
Bellamy Blake Imagine: Falling For A Stranger

A/N: I had to re-post this because tumblr sucks

Requested by @ariatate

Summary: Reader is one of the slaves that Bellamy and others saved from Ice Nation. In the Arkadia Bellamy helps Abby take care of reader. As the time passes they grow closer and eventually fall for each other.

Word Count: 2381

Originally posted by jchnmurqhy


After months of being a slave I had no longer hoped to being free again. But it happened as we got saved by other people from Ark. It happened so fast, one moment we were in chains obeying a grounder and the other moment we were in something that looked like a truck on our way to some camp where there was the rest of our people.

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REQUEST: Calling [Gladiolus/Fem!Reader]

Originally posted by deez-nocts

^ This is because I needed the butt. Okay? Okay.

Luckily, I’ve never written a story for Gladio, which means, I’m fresh full of ideas for him! :3 This is meant for female readers mostly since the request was for Gladio’s Girlfriend… And my mistake, I made Gladio break up with Reader.

Almost done with requests. Holy shit. I’m putting up a limit next time, lol.

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bad for you

part i. / part ii. / part iii.

bad!girl Rosé x Reader

Warnings: swearing, drug use (tobacco, alcohol)

Word count: 7,418

     You were the type who believed in “if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen” but that didn’t seem to be working out too well for you. The moment you practiced “if you want something, go get it” was the moment she came into your life.

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Anon Request: Sam x reader. Sam and reader have dinner with Becky. Becky won’t stop flirting with Sam, and reader gets jealous.

Word Count: 1683

Warning: Smut

You were not a fan of Becky Rosen.

You’d had no idea who she was two days ago, when Sam mentioned to Dean that you were passing through the town where she lived, and you quirked your eyebrows at Sam in the rearview mirror of the Impala.

“She’s an old acquaintance,” he said, though you could tell from his tone that there was more to the story.

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Title: Realisation

Pairings: Jimmy Darling x Female!Reader

Warnings: emotionally and physically abusive relationship, Dandy being an asshole.

Request: request ~ can you do a one shot in which reader is attracted to jimmy but trapped in relationship with someone else and she finally talks to him and jimmy ends up reascuing her from her relationship. (i;ve requested this from other people before and never got response) essentially she;s trapped in an emotionally abusive relationship and she’s attracted to jimmy and doesnlt think anyone couild love her in return.

Gifs: [x] [x] [x]

Y/N did not want to be here. Dandy and his mother had insisted she joined them in their trip to the local Freakshow, although Y/N would never say it she thought it was wrong to exploit people with abnormalities.

She glanced around, heart thumping as she tried to spot Dandy and his mother, they had disappeared to find a toilet. She couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that was building rapidly inside her. She wanted to be home, not the house she lived in with Dandy, but her old apartment in a complex in Jupiter.

Truth be told, Y/N hated Dandy, she just didn’t know how to escape or defile him. Dandy was emotionally abusive towards Y/N, he played the victim, making Y/N pity him when he was the one in the wrong.

Their relationship had been great in the beginning, he showered her in compliments, he wasn’t controlling, he even allowed her to spend time on her own. But during the past few months, he had completely changed. He would throw things when she asked to be alone, scream at her. He even made her give up her apartment, the one place that was really hers and she had worked so hard to get it. He forced her to read books that she normally wouldn’t reach for, watched her eat like a hawk and forced her to eat his ‘rich-people food’ even though it made her gag at the bitter taste.

Y/N slouched, giving up on finding them; at least she’d finally be able to have some time alone - for once. Y/N slumped down into Ferris wheel chair that had been detached. Finally alone with her thoughts. She leaned her head back, staring at the twinkling stars up above.

A cough caused her to flinch and jolt forward, snapping out of her thoughts. She glanced up at the person, mouth going dry and mouth opening ajar slightly at the pure beauty of the person. His Brown hair sleeked back apart from a small curly strand that was matted against his forehead, his brown eyes had an undeniable twinkle like the stars Y/N had previously been looking at. His chest and shoulders were broad and strong, his stomach visibly squishy in the green shirt he was sporting. the corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he too soaked in her appearance.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, Darlin,” he drawled, his voice like music to her ears, matching his gorgeous appearance.

“It’s okay. Would you like to sit?” Y/N offered, gesturing to the slightly tattered seat she was sitting on.

The stranger took Y/N up on her offer, sitting down beside her. The pair’s knees brushed against each other as well as their thighs, squished together on the tiny seat.

“I’m Y/N,” she announced, “and you are?”

The stranger smiled, a deep dimple digging into his cheek - making Y/N almost swoon. “Jimmy, Jimmy Darling.”

The name was familiar but Y/N couldn’t place her finger on where it was familiar. Y/N nodded.

“I could’ve sworn Mrs. Mott had booked out all the seats, perhaps she didn’t. Are you here to see the show?”

Jimmy shook his head, smiling sadly down at his mitten covered hands. Y/N followed his eyes, frowning slightly. It was the middle of summer, why was he wearing gloves? He looked too… normal… to partake in a Freakshow.

“ ’M lobster boy…” Jimmy admitted, turning his head away from her, he couldn’t bare to see her resection to his confession.

“C - Can I see them - your hands?”

Jimmy reluctantly pulled of his gloves, placing them on his thighs. He still couldn’t pluck up the courage to look Y/N in the eye.

Her cold fingers danced along his conjoined fingers before wrapping around his wrist.

“Wow.” She huffed, astonished, however Jimmy interpreted it in a negative way. He couldn’t make his hands move away from her with all the power in his body. “They’re incredible.” Y/N mumbled, still in awe.

“What?” Jimmy whipped his head around to look at her, no one had ever called his hands incredible, nor had they ever been so fixated on them in a state of awe, usually in a state of disgust.

“You don’t agree? They’re possibly the most gorgeous hands I’ve ever seen, let alone touched.” Y/N confessed, still playing with his hands. Jimmy’s heart faltered, and sped up.

“You really think that?”

“Of course.” Y/N grinned, meeting his stare.

Jimmy was infatuated. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, but Y/N was making him think otherwise.

“Y/N!” A shrilled voice ripped through the moment, making Y/N inwardly groan. “Love, where are you?” Dandy called.

Jimmy’s eyes widened as he wrenched his hands from Y/N’s grasp and rapidly tugged on his mittens. He staggered to his feet, straightening his back.

Y/N, too, got to her feet and straightened out her dress. She send a desperate glance at Jimmy before Dandy came into her sighting. Her stomach squeezed, her palms becoming sweaty.

“Love, what are you doing here with the freak?” Dandy inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N better than to back-chat Dandy, but she couldn’t help it.

“Don’t call them freaks, Dandy.” Y/N snapped, fingers trembling slightly when she realised what she had said. Her hand clamped over her mouth, muffling the gasp she emitted.

Dandy’s face grew red with rage, Y/N and Jimmy could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears. He raised a hand and delivered a harsh blow to Y/N’s cheek, making her stumble onto the chair she had been sitting in.

“Hey, listen, you shouldn’t hit a lady.” Jimmy busted in, shoving Dandy backwards.

“Listen, freak, mind your own business. Why don’t you go practice your juggling?” Dandy snapped, spit flying out of his mouth in all directions, spraying on Jimmy’s face.

Jimmy looked hopelessly at Y/N, who was silently crying and holding her cheek. She could feel the bruise forming under her fingers.

“It’s okay, Jimmy, go.”

Jimmy reluctantly left and Dandy seized Y/N’s wrist and tugged her up to her feet. “How could you embarrass me like that?”

Y/N casted her eyes downwards to her feet, ashamed. Dandy tugged her back to his mother and they left, the car journey was silent the whole way home and once they were home, Dandy screamed at Y/N some more.

Y/N found herself back on the Freakshow camp, this time she was here on her own and by choice. Unhappy and unpleasant memories of that night rushing back to Y/N, making her head spin. Y/N’s hand instinctively reached for her cheek, she flinched when her fingertips grazed against the purple and green bruise.

She spotted a blonde young lady wearing a green knitted jumper and long skirt. She scrambled over to her.

“Hi, have you seen Jimmy and if so, could you point me in the direction he was in?” Y/N asked, smiling politely.

The stranger’s bright eyes widened at the horrendous bruise that sprawled across Y/N’s cheekbone.

“Erm, he should be in his caravan. It’ll say Jimmy Darling on it.” The stranger informed and Y/N went on her way, weaving through caravans.

Finally she came to Jimmy’s caravan and knocked on the door, playing with her fingers and she anticipated what she would say. The door swung open and a disheveled Jimmy revealed himself. He smiled at Y/N and offered for her to come in, she did.

They took a seat on the chairs and Jimmy took in her appearance, the lilac bags under her were obvious, as was her morbidly pale skin and the glowing shiner on her cheek.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, you didn’t deserve this. I-I am not worth it.” Jimmy apologised, placing his hands over Y/N’s, “you need to get away from him. He’s abusive and that’s not right. He shouldn’t hit a woman just because she said something he didn’t like.”


“No buts. You need to.”

“I’ll have no where to go.”

It was true, Y/N no longer had her apartment. Her parents lived in another state entirely.

“You can come here.” Jimmy persuaded.

“But what if no one loves me after him?” Y/N squeaked, voice cracking as tears brimmed in her eyes and a lump formed in her throat.

“Don’t be silly. Who wouldn’t love you? You may feel as if though he’s the only man that will ever love you, because he’s perhaps the only man who’s ever claimed to love you. But there will be another man, a kinder man who will love you, spoil you rotten and never, ever, raise a hand at you. A man who will let you say what you want, even if he doesn’t agree, a man who won’t try and rip you away from freedom. I promise, a man who is better than him will come.”

Jimmy knew he would be that man, he had to be. He wanted to help her, let her be free, but she couldn’t be free if she was still devoted to Dandy.

Y/N hesitantly nodded her head, his words persuading her enough. She knew this would be hard, to leave the man who she’d been with for years, the only man she’d ever been with and ever loved, but Jimmy was tight, he wasn’t the man for her. He was abusive, and Y/N had to get away. And she would, with Jimmy’s help, even if it was the last thing they ever did.

Jimmy stood up and Y/N followed, he tugged her towards his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her. Y/N finally came to the realisation that this was real affection, the affection she craved, something that Dandy had never showed her, something Dandy was incapable of. Tears slipped from Y/N’s eyes and soaked jimmy’s chest.

“Thank you for helping me come to the realisation that Dandy and my relationship isn’t normal, isn’t healthy.”

Likes, reblogs and asks/replies are appreciated.

Spending the night with Tony would include:

pairing: tony x reader

warnings: ptsd but apart from that it’s just fluff. some iron man 3 spoilers

a/n: idk guys im just still salty about pepper 

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Sketch Random + Fanfic Translation.

Translation by: @miguelcool2000

A One-shot follow up story to the comic “Random Sketch”

Title: “If he just…”

“Kill him”

For a second, that idea crossed her mind while her finger trembled over the trigger of her gun.

Her heart would beat painfully inside her chest, suffocating her, the purest and most gruesome hatred was born within her being, rising like hot lava in her esophagus and choking her throat.

The bovine laughed maniacally in front of her , twisting and bending, mocking at what the act one of his henchman had accomplished.

She looked at Nick’s body lying still on the floor, blood starting to form a puddle around his figure.

Judy fought back her own tears.

-          Oh, come on, lieutenant Hopps, don’t tell me you really care for that piece of scum.- Del Toro stated in an annoyingly fancy manner and licking his own lips while stressing each word.

“Kill him!”

-          Shut up! – She rose her voice using all her will not to pull the trigger in that very moment.

“Just kill him at once!”

She heard again her own voice in rage trying to impose its actions. But she couldn’t. She was a police officer, a Lieutenan . She couldn’t let her emotions be shown so easily.

-          Anyway, who’s gonna miss such a scumbag loser like him? It’s a fox, a species that is just a plague to this world…

That was the last straw. How did he dare to say that? What did he know about foxes? What the hell did he know about nick?

“Kill him!”

This time she would follow her instinct.

-          You son of a…

-          Judy, don’t! – shout a voice she thought she was never going to hear again and turned around, her eyes meeting the fox’s looking back at her from the ground, his own shining with an emerald glow, trying to communicate thousands of thoughts, since shouting has left him exhausted – …you are better than that… dumb bunny… - murmured the vulpine with a weak voice and lost consciousness in consequence.

-          Nick!

-          Lieutenant Hopps! – exclaimed a gray hare getting close at full speed while followed by a group of mammals. He went towards his female counterpart whereas the other officers cuffed Del Toro. –Are you ok?

Wilde had interfered at the right time. He have saved her from doing something stupid. She could barely see the metallic cuffs around the ex-politician’s hooves and without even answering to her subordinate she hurried herself next to Nick.

-          Just if you hadn’t save him that day at the court, that idiot would have died long ago and you would live a simple life and I would have everything I ever wanted! – She heard the claiming of the furious criminal, but she ignored him.

-          Nick? … Can you hear me? … Hey Nick, Nick! She said without getting an answer. She remembered the first aid course and pressed her trembling paws against the wound. She had to do something, she had to stop all that blood, but the hemorrhage didn’t seem to stop. – Savage!

-          The ambulance is on its way lieutenant. – He claimed as he checked the fox’s vitals. - You’d better hurry. His heartrate is declining hastily. – He shout over the radio on his shoulder.

A few seconds later the sirens could be heard.

-          Listen to me Lieutenant Hopps – said one of the caribous who checked the one with the emerald eyes – Don’t stop pressing, the wound is in a critical state and your paws are the only thing that keeps him alive at this moment. So, until we can make it to the hospital, don’t let go. Understood?

She nodded and the paramedics performed some maneuvers in order to get them both inside the ambulance.

Everything else was blurry in her mind when she less expected it, she was already sat on one of the enormous chairs in the waiting room of the Memorial Hospital Zootopia.

-          You should take a break – claimed Jack Savage forgetting the formalities, after all despite she being his superior, they were old childhood friends. He offered her some coffee.

-          No. I’m not leaving until I know he’s fine… - answered Judy while accepting the bitter drink.

-          The surgery they are performing will at least take another 10 hours and we still have to prepare the reports of the case – but she didn’t move an inch.

-          I can’t leave him – her eyes filling with guilt.

Jack stared at her intensively and sighed – Well, at least go take a shower, your clothes are a mess.

She was about to refuse again when the one with the blue irises interrupted her.

-          Go to my apartment – he held the keys in front of her – it’s conveniently located just  a few blocks from here, it won’t take more than 30 minutes, I’ll stay here and will call you in case anything happens. OK?

She doubted a little, but ended up accepting and headed to the house of her once neighbor and younger brother’s best friend.

As if she were a zombie, she crossed streets and every mammal she came across stared at her covered in blood, which caused some of the predators to have problems with their collars so she hurried her steps.

She made it to Jack’s place and went straight to the bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror and became horrified, Nick’s blood was everywhere, her hands, face, clothes, her badge…

In a frenzy, she took off the clothes and quickly went inside the cold water pouring down from the shower since the blood was already dried. Otherwise, it would be harder to wash it from her fur.

Damn it!

How had she let that situation end like it did?

She strongly punched the wall, her knuckles went numb due to the pain.

-          Damn it! - She yelled with rage. She was at her limit, and couldn’t keep enduring her own feelings any longer.

She allowed herself to cry. She cried out of powerlessness, anguish, fury, pain and fear.

She cried for Nick Wilde, a predator, a fox, who she had unrightfully called a murderer and turned out to be the most noble, and kindest of the creatures; someone who was just trying to make his dreams come true and help others with their own.

Someone she labeled as untrustworthy and became my only ally. Someone she came to fear, but now felt a deep regard for to unsuspected levels; because he had earned through all means a very special place in her heart.

Those things she had tried to forget due to the involving circumstances that created a barrier between them. But all those circumstances had vanished the moment she saw him falling hurt, all her prejudice disintegrated in an instant.

Sincerely, what made them different from each other?

Being pray and predator?

A fox and a rabbit?

Male and female?

Though that could be said, that wasn’t what really made them different.

The only thing that could draw that line, where the obedience collars. Those damn collars. She felt embarrassed of the fact that she once thought those artifacts were the best invention in history.

She was wrong. The whole society and she were wrong. It was just a horrible tool to keep the divisions between pray and predator, the generator of an endless cycle of hatred.

Something that wasn’t necessary at all as predators weren’t some insensible beasts. Those things only took away that which thousands of mammals presumed to have granted them, their freedom.

And Nick had been the one to teach her that. He had shown her a whole new world, a cruel image and a beautiful reality of which was actually wrong.

And how did she pay him back?

By letting someone with his own stupid ambitions shoot him right to the heart.

Did she really deserved to carry a badge if she tolerated that the innocent were victims of such atrocities? Not if he died, it would just be a terrible confirmation.

A chill went down her spine.

Nick could really die any second and she was standing there dumbfounded thinking about stuff that didn’t matter in that precise moment.

She shook her head franticly and crouched in the shower.

-          He’s not going to die…- she told herself.

After bathing herself, she turned off the faucet, put on some of Savage’s clothes and hurried back to the hospital.

She made it back faster than she took to leave.

-          Jack. – She called the name of the gray bunny as she made her way to where he was sitting.

-          There aren’t any news yet. – He claimed as he jumped down from the elephant size chair.

-          Good, thanks for the shower, I’ll give these back – she pointed to the black outfit from the ZPD she was wearing – tomorrow. Is that OK?

-          Sure. You know you can give them back anytime.

Five hours passed without any of them saying a word. Hours in which Judy’s heart never stopped beating painfully and aguishly in her chest, just expecting to get some news on the fox’s health.

Her friend’s phone broke the silence that reigned in the waiting room, after all they were in the most desolated wing of the hospital.

The hare with the sapphire colored eyes stepped outside to take the phone call and came back a few minutes later.

-          It was Captain McHorn, he says Superintendent Bogo has given Del Toro’s case top priority, and he wants us to write the reports as soon as…

-          You should go to the precinct first, I’ll call the boss and write the report later.

-          Alright. Do you want me to get your laptop from the office?

-          If you could, please.

-          Ok. Then, I must take my leave. I’ll come back later. Cheer up Jude, that fox is gonna make it – he called her as when they were kids while he smiled at her and pressed her shoulder – excuse me Lieutenant Hopps  - he straightened up before departing and she nodded.

Each minute seemed like an eternity, she looked at the clock on the wall, 4:15 am. The 10 hours Jack had calculated the surgery would last had already passed, but there was no signs of any doctor so far.

As soon as that thought hit her, the red light on the sign “Surgery in process” turned off and an elephant came through the sliding doors.

-          Nicholas Wilde’s family? – He asked as on cue and the lieutenant immediately got close.

-          He has no family, I’m his tutor. - She claimed showing her badge. - How is he doing?

-          He lost a lot of blood, the bullet pierced an important artery and got stuck in a difficult area to operate, he also suffered two heart attacks while on surgery, but we could resuscitate him. The surgery has been a success. We will take him to Intensive Therapy and he will have to stay in observation for the next days, and depending on his evolution we’ll be able to transfer him to a private room.

Her heart burst with joy.

-          May I see him? – She asked after listening attentively to the doctor.

-          Of course, but it must not be more than a few minutes.

-          Thanks doctor.

-          Don’t worry. I’ll tell the nurse in charge the instructions so you can see him, I’m leaving now.

Hopps brought her hands to her chest and squeezed them against herself, shedding another couple of tears, but this time she cried out of relief.

Thank goodness he was still alive.

-          Thanks. Thanks. – She repeated while crouching.

She never thought the day she would be happy to hear the beeping of a vital signs monitor, because it gave her the certainty that, though a bit weak and paused, Nick Wilde’s heart kept beating.

She sat on the booth near the hospital bed, which to her fortune was the right size for the vulpine species.

With some fear, she took his paw between hers, squeezing it gently, trying not to hurt him nor messing with the tubes with saline solutions that were plugged into him.

She admired his red-haired face and noticed how exhaust and haggard he appeared to be, also his fur seemed a bit pale somehow, and she felt a deep sorrow to see him in that state.

She infinitely thanked the fact that by medical procedure the collar that slaved him had to be removed.

-          Thanks for staying alive. Thank you for saving me…

Had he died, she would have gone and killed the son of a bitch who shot him with her own hands. If Nick hadn’t stopped her, she would have become into a murderer. If he had stopped existing, she wouldn’t care about anything anymore.

But he was still here, in the same world as her, and from that moment on she swore that she would do anything within her power and even more to make his dream come true.

To create a world where anyone can be anything they want to be.

However, she knew it wouldn’t be easy, but it didn’t matter. If he just stayed by her side to fight for it, the time they would take to achieve it wouldn’t matter.

After all, she didn’t need anything else but him.

-          …Carrots?…

The End

The Night of his Birthday

You noticed that Kiseok spaced out a lot after sex. You didn’t quite understand why but it made him looked even more amazing as he stared off at the ceiling as if he could see the particles dancing in front of his eyes. “What are you thinking about?” you asked softly, leaning on your side to look at him running your fingers slowly down his jaws as if it could hurt you. “Nothing.” He answered and slowly a smile graced his lips making him turn his head to face you.  The soft tips of your finger lingered on his skin as the two of you stayed silent enjoying the peace of mind each other was offering.

“He called me a few weeks ago.” You broke the silence.

“He did? What did he want?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t answer.” You tipped his chin with your forefinger and moved your lips against his. Instinctively, you closed your eyes once your lips touched his and the small smile against your lips made you pulled away. He didn’t even let you budge when he connected your lips with his once more. The soft lingering print of his lips on yours made you melt into his side. You continued to kiss his lips, absorbing yourself in the warmth of his arms wrapped around you.

“Why not?” His voice projected with pride. That’s my girl

“Because he called me a bitch.”

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ikeracity  asked:

ger!! congrats on your follower milestone!! if the muse cooperates, could I please have Charles and Erik in an arranged marriage for political reasons, and at the beginning, they agree that they'll keep to themselves and do whatever they want (including take other lovers discreetly, if they wish), but as time goes on, they start to realize that they actually love each other and they get jealous? and then happy ending??

I cannot BELIEVE you have the audacity to drop such an awesome prompt for a bloody 100k epic on my lap when I was asking for ideas for teeny tiny ficlets!!! How DARE you @ikeracity consider yourself called out! The nerve ugh!!

NOW, have some ‘historical fantasy, alpha/omega with babies, arranged marriage, miscommunication, pining, secretly both in love with the other but don’t know it and oh there’s a happy ending’ fic. 

It takes Erik almost an hour in the bath to scrub away all the layers of filth caked onto his skin, months of accumulated sweat and grime from hard marching as they fought to push Shaw’s army back across the River Running. Their risky move to retake Riker’s Island had proved successful after months of painful losses - thanks in no small part to Charles’ brilliant tactics - and enough of Shaw’s men had been killed for the bastard to finally beat a hasty retreat back across the border. He’s grateful for the respite granted from this smallest of victories, though Erik himself would never count the war truly over until he’d ripped the black heart out of Sebastian Shaw’s body.

To his surprise, Charles is waiting in his rooms when Erik returns in fresh clothing, looking and feeling human again as he runs a hand absently through his wet hair. Sitting there, on Erik’s bed and wrapped in the only clean cloak from Erik’s travel chest, Charles looks every bit the role of dutiful Consort welcoming his mate home. A dull ache blooms in his chest at what he knows to be a mere illusion; theirs is a marriage based on politics and necessary convenience, and Charles will never be Erik’s alone.

He didn’t even realize that he wanted it so, until he’d almost died on the battlefield; didn’t truly understand even after months of a vague but persistent ache that he was actually in love with the omega he married. An omega that married Erik solely to join their houses and their kingdoms in war, to pool resources and gain ground against a common enemy.

“You look better; I was beginning to worry,” Charles says, as Erik pours ale from a pitcher into two glasses, and offers one to his mate. But Charles refuses it, shaking his head, so Erik moves to sit on the other side of the bed and gulps down his own drink.

“That’s a surprise. When have you ever worried about me?” The words are sharper and more bitter than warranted, but Erik is too tired for this dance tonight, and is in no mood for feigned niceties.

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For Better or Worse - Part 2

Guys, thank you so much for the response to the first part of my first ever fic. I was SO nervous to post it and you were all so lovely. (You can read it here if you haven’t already.) Sorry for taking so long to post part two, but here it is! Hope you enjoy! <3

P.s. This isn’t the end, there will be more ;)


“Hey there, Juliet.”

The silence that followed was palpable. He leant against the door frame with his hands tucked firmly in his pockets, his black hair falling ever so slightly in front of his face. His leather jacket was visibly worn, his plaid shirt peeking through the front as just a small indication that he was indeed the same person. The same flesh and bone, the same mind, the same heart. Exactly the same yet completely changed all at once. He wasn’t wearing his beanie.

               “Jug,” the name she hadn’t said since she was eighteen spilling out and shattering before she could stop it. “What are you-“ she choked, “what are you doing here?”

               He pulled his eyes away then, removing his hands from his pockets and nervously turning an unsmoked cigarette between his fingers. There were so many words to say, but not a single one would come.

               “Archie invited me,” he said after a while, his voice low and hoarse.

Something sank within her at the sound of his voice, unable to take her eyes off him, afraid that if she did he’d be gone again by the time she looked back up. His eyes met hers once more, as if by natural instinct, his face pained by the nothingness of everything. The weight of eight empty years balancing heavily on both of their shoulders.

               “You look good,” he breathed, his face interchanged with the ghost of somebody she used to know.

               All of a sudden, Hal was calling out Betty’s name, although he wasn’t yet in sight. Impulsively, she ran towards Jughead, grabbing him by the arm as she dragged him into the room on the other side of the terrace. Quietly closing the door behind her, she stared out of the tiny window and exhaled. She was still holding his arm, which she then dropped quite abruptly. He was right there in front of her then, so close that she could feel his breath. She studied his face and he studied hers, his eyes falling down to her lips just like it had done the first time that they had kissed. Although slightly more rugged and a little bit older, he looked just as she’d always remembered. He was still him. And she was still her. But they were not them anymore.

               “Betty,” he whispered.

               “Don’t.” There was so much distance between them, even more so now that they were close enough to touch. They had both pictured this moment so many times throughout the past eight years, imagining different scenarios with different endings, planning out exactly how they would approach it and exactly what they would say. Now that it was here, they had forgotten it all.

               “I just wanted to see you,” he said.

               “I said don’t.” She replied, her voice barely a whisper.

“You asked me why I was here.”

She wanted to kiss him then, but she didn’t. Instead, she backed away over to the other side of the room. Before either of them even had a chance to think of what to say next, there was a knock at the door, followed by another, and another, and another.

“Betty,” Hal cried, looking in through the dirty window. “Are you in there?”

She looked at her first love, soaking in every part of him, worried she may never see him again. She needed it, something to hold on to, to remind her all of it had ever been real. They both stayed completely silent, the look in her eyes telling him everything that he needed to know.

“I’m not really an expert on weddings,” Jughead mused when Hal had given up and frantically returned back inside, “but I’m pretty certain the bride shouldn’t be hiding in a room with someone like me when she’s supposed to be walking down the aisle.”

Betty’s eyes flared as she turned back around from the window where she was stood, making sure nobody was there. “I’m not hiding,” she cried, forgetting how he much he challenged her, “and you’re the one that just turned up here out of the blue, remember?”

He smiled for just the smallest fragment of a moment, tainted with an ache, a bitter sweet sadness lingering in the space between them.

“God, Jughead,” she sputtered, her voice taut and brittle, “It’s been eight years.“

“I know,” he replied quickly. There was that silence again, ringing so loudly in both of their ears.

“Can I ask you something?” he added quite suddenly.

Her eyes ran over his every feature, the scar above his lip which she had not seen before, a small reminder of another life that she had had no part in. Scars on his skin paired with scars only she could see, screaming when he looked at her. “What?”

Jughead shifted nervously, looking down and then back up again. His words dripped in vulnerability and regret. “Are you happy?”

Betty’s face fell, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion as she avoided eye contact for a brief second, as if he had just asked her the most bizarre and unnatural question she had ever heard.


“Are you happy?” he repeated.

She shook her head, thinking about something as she clutched her temple. “Of course,” she began, before clearing her throat and straightening her frame. “Yes, I am.”

The sound of utter stillness resumed, his unspoken words bleeding out right in front of her and silently flooding every empty space. His voice cracked. “Then so am I.”

Abruptly and without any warning whatsoever, the door flung open, causing them to jump out of their skin. Alice was stood in the doorway, glowering at the both of them in complete disbelief.

“Mom,” Betty started.

She looked at Jughead long and hard before returning her gaze to her daughter and grasping her arm, leading her out of the room. Betty looked back, instinctively searching Jughead’s face for reassurance as it grew further and further away. Reaching the main building once more, Alice pulled Betty to the side where nobody else could see them.

“Are you doing this?” she whispered.

“Mom,” she muttered, looking towards the ground.

“Betty,” she hissed, forcing her daughter to meet her gaze. “Are you doing this?”

“Mom,” she kept her voice as hushed as she could. “I didn’t know he was going to show up here. I didn’t,” she insisted, growing visibly frustrated.

“That wasn’t my question,” she retorted. “They’re starting to think something is wrong. Archie is restless. You either go in there now or you leave before someone sees you.”

“What?” Betty replied, her face a mixture of confusion and doubt.

“I will help you,” she said, “but you need to make a decision and you need to make it now.”

Betty let her eyes wander back over to the room where she was just standing moments before. Jughead hadn’t moved, he was still in there, reeling over every word and every glance. Waiting for something. Waiting for nothing.

She thought back to all of those years ago, allowing the memories she’d tried so hard to contain float back up to the surface. It was her eighteenth birthday. There were candles and there was music, mixed with milkshakes and burgers and laughter. She was sat with Jughead, Archie and Veronica in their usual booth at Pop’s, whilst the rest of her friends and family filled up the seats around them. It was the first time anyone had been able to sit in there, especially Archie, without feeling the remaining chill after Fred had been shot a year and a half earlier. He had made a full recovery, but it was tough on Archie. It had been tough on everyone.

When Jughead joined the serpents, Betty had convinced herself that it would break them apart. And, of course, it didn’t come without its issues. She had felt him slipping away time and time again, if only a touch, but they always seemed to find their way back to each other. She was surprised, in fact, that their relationship had grown even stronger through it rather than just deteriorating like she was so concerned it would. She was happy back then. Truly, legitimately happy. She was happy even when she found out that she was pregnant.

It was a shock to the system, for sure. She had told Jughead straight away, without even a second thought. He was her partner in crime through everything, so why not this as well? It wasn’t planned and they were still so young and always so aware of that, but the both of them were more than willing to make it work. Nine months and six days later, their baby was born. Toby. Neither of them had ever felt happiness like it. He was tiny and he was beautiful and he was all theirs. They had both worked themselves into the ground to be able to afford their own little house just on the outskirts of Riverdale; it wasn’t perfect, but it was home. They had picked out the colour of the walls for every room, bought trinkets to sit above the fireplace and hung photographs wherever they could. Everything started to fit together almost seamlessly. A life that had been created so unexpectedly, yet one they could now never imagine being without.

Toby was less than three days old when they realised something wasn’t right. It was his first day back home. Betty had sat down to feed him, noticing instantly that his breathing was quicker than normal, shallower, as if the air was struggling to reach his body. Her heart had dropped in a way that it had never done before, she had called Jughead with shaking hands, unable to form sentences between frantic cries. They had taken him straight to the hospital, Betty cradling him in her arms as they did so. They weren’t even sure if they had locked the front door, it had all gone so quickly. An entire night that felt like an entire year waiting, jumping every time somebody came into the waiting room only to discover that it wasn’t for them. As the hours went on, Betty rested her head in Jughead’s lap as he stroked her hair, exhaustion retaining her entire body. The rest of their family and friends were waiting patiently in another part of the building. Only the parents themselves were allowed to be in the intensive care unit but, admittedly, they were grateful to be alone.

“He’s going to be ok,” Jughead breathed. “He’s a Jones and he’s a Cooper. He’s tough.”

“I’m scared, Jug,” she confessed through faint, quiet sobs.

“I know,” he replied, closing his eyes as he stretched down and kissed her head. “So am I.”

A few moments passed by as they sat in complete silence, holding onto each other with every bit of strength that they had.

“Hey,” Jughead declared, “I was thinking that when we get out of here, we should take Toby for his first burger at Pop’s.”

“Oh, really?” Betty countered, her voice fragile as she sat up and smiled for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours. “I don’t know, but I think we should probably wait a few years for that.”

“Okay, fine,” he smirked, “I guess that I’ll keep the burgers for myself.”

“Sounds about right,” she giggled, wondering how he could do that even when it felt like her whole world was falling apart.

“Also,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. Even after everything, he still got nervous around her. Constantly terrified that she wouldn’t want to be with him anymore, that she’d wake up one day and decide she’d changed her mind.

She placed her hand softly over his. “What?”

Without another word, terrified that he’d back out, Jughead reached into his pocket and drew out a tiny black box. She knew exactly what it was without him even having to say anything.

“I was going to wait,” he said, “but-”

He opened it up to reveal a ring. Small but beautiful, glittering ever so slightly even in the blinding hospital light.

“Jug,” she croaked.

“Besides, isn’t this what people, like us, who have gone through what we’ve gone through, do?”

“Shut up, you idiot,” she laughed, her lips meeting his before he could say anything else. He kissed her back, overwhelmed with a warmth he didn’t even know existed until Betty. Until that first kiss in her bedroom. Until that night in his dad’s trailer. Until the day that their baby was born.

“Shall I take that as a yes?” He grinned as he gently placed the ring on her finger. It was a perfect fit, the last puzzle piece of a beautiful picture. “No matter what happens,” he said, brushing his hand against her cheek, “tonight or tomorrow or in ten years time. I’ll be right here with you.”

“For better or worse?” She teased, her fingers intertwining with his.

“You bet.”

“Mr Jones, Miss Cooper?” A voice inquired, startling the both of them, breaking them away from their fleeting bubble of happiness. Betty leaped out of her seat, her hand still holding his as fear paralysed her body all over again.

“What?” She wailed. “What is it? Is he ok? Where is he?”

The doctor glanced momentarily over to Jughead, who had fallen silent at the tone of her voice. Truth be told, Betty didn’t remember much after that. Neither of them did. Just those three words that changed their lives forever, three words that haunted them every single day, three words that they heard in everything that they did and everywhere that they went. The ring began to slip ever so slightly down her finger, the puzzle piece starting to crack.

“I’m so sorry.”

From that day on, nothing was ever the same again. How could it be? They both inadvertently withdrew from one another, pulled away by a current stronger than they were or could have ever been after losing a child. Neither of them wanted it to happen; it just did. Jughead poured himself into his writing, spending almost every night by himself in Pop’s, whilst Betty barely ever moved out of bed, holding onto a tiny blue blanket that she refused to let go of. They didn’t talk, they barely even looked at each other, only reminded of their loss whenever they did so. It was four months later that they decided to end it. Betty moved back home, back into her childhood bedroom where she spent the majority of her time crying herself to sleep, and Jughead left town. Just like that. She never knew where he went. Nobody did.

Now as she stood in her wedding dress a whole eight years later, only a few steps away from her past that was holding out its hand to her, she looked towards the open door and she turned her back.

“Let’s go,” she said, looking her mother directly in the eye, her voice quivering. “People are waiting.”

Gas Station Coffee

Author’s Notes: Just a small word vomit drabble, because someone thought it would be cathartic for me to write about break-ups from a different perspective. This wasn’t what I planned to write, as is usually the case, but it did turn out to be a nice emotional release. Also helped me get some perspective. So I guess what I’m saying is – I mostly wrote this for myself. But hopefully someone else likes it as well.

Rating: PG

MSR, Angst 

Post IWTB, Pre-Revival

Her feet throb, protesting each step across the hospital parking lot. Her head started to ache halfway through her twelve hour shift, and continues to pound just to spite the eight hundred milligrams of ibuprofen she swallowed with a cup of cold coffee three hours ago.

A rumbling in her midsection reminds her that she should eat. It’s late, though, leaving her options severely limited. She can’t stomach the thought of another bowl of limp lettuce and rubbery chicken purchased at a drive-through window. She can’t summon the energy to cook anything worth the time.

Foot pressed to the accelerator, she realizes that all she really wants is a decent cup of hot coffee. Hospital cafeteria coffee is shockingly bad – bitter and thick – even  more so when she’s forced to abandon it for an hour to attend to patients.

Gas station coffee can’t be a hell of a lot better, but hey, any port in a storm.

So she stops, she buys a cup of questionable but steaming hot coffee, and hears herself request a pack of cigarettes from the girl behind the counter. “What brand?” The girl wants to know. Scully pauses, thinks of Mulder and the one and only time they shared a cigarette. It was her brand – Marlboro –  because it was her pack, and even then she knew he was only taking silent drags alongside her because she found comfort in the companionship. Needed not to feel judged after surviving yet another abduction.

“Camels,” she tells the girl.

Sitting in her car with her nose pressed into the steam rising from the foam cup in her hand, she absently flicks the filter of the not-her-brand cigarette out the window. She thinks of him anyway, of the coffee he used to make. It was terrible. Not quite hospital cafeteria terrible, but close. It was always either too weak (“Two heaping scoops, Mulder.”) or so strong it resembled mud (“Two heaping scoops, Mulder!”)

It’s been a year since she left him and their house, and all in all, she thinks she’s handling her life fairly well. She enjoys work, usually. She has a nice apartment with a suede couch and her laundry is done on time now, there are no week-old dishes piled in the sink, no will he come to bed tonight or not taunting her every time her head hits the pillow. She sees a therapist semi-regularly, writes her feelings in a journal when they overwhelm her. The nightmares haven’t stopped, but they come less frequently and without the bone rattling intensity they used to.

But it’s been an entire year, and sometimes all it takes is a cup of coffee and a fucking cigarette to stoke the good memories of him, of them, of the times when she wanted to stay.

Suddenly, she feels a drop of liquid pelt the back of her hand. Startled, she blinks, and this time the moisture slides hotly down her cheek. She’s crying, she realizes, silent tears that seem right at home in this dark, vacant lot. She catches a glimpse of a man with dirt caked across his face, clutching a bottle of liquor as he slides down the side of the building. She feels like she doesn’t deserve to cry. Doesn’t even want to.

She sips her coffee, which is surprisingly not bad – a step or two up from the swill Mulder used to concoct – and wonders what he remembers about her. The good things he remembers. The annoying things. 

Does he fight back tears when he gets a haircut, remember that he used to sit between her knees on the floor so she could cut his hair just so he wouldn’t have to leave the house? “That’s awful, Scully.” He laughed every time, scrutinizing her work in a hand held mirror. 

When he closes his eyes to sleep, does he sometimes forget she’s not there and instinctively reach to hold her in the dark? She hopes the answer is yes. She hopes the answer is no.

Her coffee has grown lukewarm, and she no longer cares. It doesn’t taste right. It tastes like it’s been made with precisely two heaping scoops.

She steps out of the car and discards the half-empty cup. She lifts the cigarette pack to toss those as well, but hesitates. She doesn’t want them anymore, but that’s because she got what she needed from them.

When she walks into the gas station again, the girl behind the counter lifts an eyebrow. Scully gives her a small smile when she buys a second cup of coffee and offers no explanation. 

“Here,” she says quietly to the bleary-eyed man in the ill-fitted coat with blackened hands, still gripping the fifth of vodka for dear life. She holds out the pack of Camels and the too-perfect coffee, and he stares up at her. “Take it,” she tells him. “Sometimes it helps.”

He pauses only a moment before retrieving the items from her hands. As she turns to leave, she hears his rough slur behind her. “Y’have a cup? S’only fair…” He lifts the glass bottle in offering. She shakes her head, and he continues. “Sometimes this helps too, y’know… helps ya forget.”

She shakes her head again, biting her lip. 

“No,” she says softly. “No, I think I’d rather remember.”


griever11  asked:




It’s not smart, it’s not brave. It’s just cowardly.

She thinks about what he said, and didn’t say, all night. Doesn’t sleep for the bitterness in his words as they confronted the reporter, as Leanne West insisted she never meant for anyone to die. 

And as the sun dawns, all Kate can see is the hard look on Rick’s face in interrogation, how he wouldn’t look at her.

Is he Rick now? 

Yeah. God. The intimacy between them…

They’ve turned this interesting corner since the winter broke up and her anxious grief loosed its hold. The holidays aren’t good for her, but she damn well tried, every single day, to keep that from building back those walls. Therapy twice a week, and then pushing herself to connect with Castle even if it all she could manage was letting him see her true face, smiling or broken, either way.

He’s been rock solid. 

Until this case. She can’t put her finger on it; she can’t tease out the reasons why their parting at the precinct left her on edge, confused.

Okay, a little miserable.

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Two Sides of Same Coin

Member: Suga // BTS

Main Plot: They have to get the money before their family can suffer.

Short Summary: They both were simply one side of their normal selves, and only with each other could they know who they really were.

A/N: Credits for the one who thought of the plot-line- @kawaii-hedgehog

Words: 2.3k

/ SeokJin // YoonGi // HoSeok // NamJoon // JiMin // TaeHyung // JeongGuk /

It was a late evening when he found himself stumbling through a crowded dance floor where beer was flying through the air, it seemed, and the entire place reeked of smoke and weed, mixed with a tangy odour of vomit coming from somewhere in the corner.

All in all, the place was disgusting and made Min YoonGi act extra cautious, hovering his hand over the gun on his waist. How the fuck was he supposed to even find some clients in this dumpster?

Releasing a heavy sigh, YoonGi slowly tracked to the bar, all the while throwing a careful glance over the gathered audience, trying to seek out some rich looking bastards- but there was none. Not this time, anyway.

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For Better or Worse - Part 3

I’m so sorry this took me so long to write!! The next part will be up much quicker, I promise! (I also attempted to make a photo/aesthetic thing for this but I’ve no clue what I’m doing to be honest haha!) I’ve had really bad writer’s block lately and am not super confident about this, but I hope you enjoy all the same. Things are about to get dramatic! ;)



“I think Archie’s going to propose,” Veronica had declared, her voice bursting with excitement as she perched on the edge of Betty’s bed five and a half years earlier. It had been almost three years since Betty had last seen Jughead and she was only just beginning to feel like her old self again.

“Wow, V,” she replied. “Really?” She was beaming at the sight of seeing her best friend so happy.

“I mean, he hasn’t said anything,” Veronica looked up to the ceiling, “but I just have a feeling. He’s been acting differently lately, as if he’s planning something. He wants to take me to dinner tonight.”

“Ok,” Betty replied, “I need details exactly when and how it happens. Do you promise?”

“I promise,” she cried, letting out a little squeal as she let herself fall backwards onto the soft pastel bed sheets.

Betty remembered that that night had been strange. Veronica hadn’t called or texted like she had promised to; in fact, she had started to feel a little unnerved at the silence that had continued right up until the early hours of the morning. Veronica definitely wouldn’t have kept as quiet as she did if Archie had proposed to her. It would have been all over social media by now; the talk of the town. It wasn’t until she had gotten into bed and turned off her bedside light that her phone finally beeped.

‘I’m outside.’ It read, a short and simple text message from Veronica. Naturally, Betty jumped out of bed in excitement before creeping down the stairs, careful not to wake anyone in the process. It wasn’t until she opened the door that her face completely dropped. Veronica had been crying. Her makeup was smudged and her dark brown eyes were brimming with a familiar melancholic exhaustion.

“V,” Betty whispered, rushing over to grab her friend as she started to sob. “What happened?”

“He ended it,” she cried. “It’s over. He took me out for dinner to tell me, that coward. He did it because he knew I wouldn’t break down in a room full of people.”

Betty was speechless for a few moments, unable to even comprehend how or why this had happened. They had been so happy together for the past five years, practically glued to each other everywhere that they went. It was sickening at times, actually, but in the most endearing way. Betty couldn’t imagine either of them with anyone else; nobody could. Carefully leaving the door ajar, she placed a soft grip on Veronica’s arm and brought her down to the bottom of her driveway where they could talk properly. She pulled her into an embrace again, not really sure of what else to do.

“Did he say why?” she asked eventually, stroking her hair between shushes, and that was when it changed. Something shifted. Something was ignited. Something darker. Veronica’s body completely seized up at the question. She stopped crying quite abruptly, pulling away with a little more force than Betty was expecting.

“You might want to sit down for this one, Betty,” she sneered.

“What?” she replied, growing increasingly concerned with Veronica’s abrupt change in demeanor.

“He’s in love with you,” she blurted, a bitter laugh escaping her mouth as she did so. Betty froze as her hands dropped to her side. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “He couldn’t keep ‘leading me on’. I guess I should’ve seen this coming.”

“V, are you sure-”

“Ever since that day at Southside High when he was staring a hole through you and Jughead. I knew it then. God, it was so obvious,” she gripped her temple as if realising everything that she had been missing, or rather everything that she been trying to repress.

“I don’t know what to say,” Betty admitted, hating herself for focusing more on the mention of Jughead than anything else. Nobody dared to speak about him around her anymore; the sound of his name felt foreign to her now. Just a reminder of a life she had lost. She had remembered that day at Southside High, of course. She was fighting for him with every inch of her being, she was consumed by a longing that she had never felt before, she was willing to risk everything that she had for him. And what good had it done now?

“This isn’t your fault,” Veronica retorted, lowering the volume of her voice. “I don’t want this to break us apart. I don’t, but-“

“Please,” Betty pleaded.

Veronica’s eyes hit the floor as she retreated into herself. “I don’t know if I can be here anymore.”

Betty clenched her fists together in the same way that she had always done. The only way she felt she could cope; a habit that she just couldn’t kick. “I can’t lose you, too,” she whispered, not realising that she was crying until a bitter tear fell into her mouth.

Veronica looked up again, frustrated and drained and dejected. “How can I just pretend that everything’s ok?”

And, with that, Betty fell silent. Because she didn’t know.

               Shortly after that night on the driveway, Veronica left Riverdale for the summer, and when she came back something in her had changed. She had kept in touch with Betty like she had promised, meeting up with her for milkshakes at Pop’s every weekend, but it wasn’t the same anymore. There was a distance there that they both felt, and there was nothing Betty could do about it. Time passed and Veronica moved on. She was quite happy now, as far as Betty was aware, but she had never been able to speak to Archie again. Betty thought that her turning up at the wedding would be like a white flag. A sign that they were all ready to put the past behind them. She knew that, if anything, she couldn’t risk sabotaging that.

               Confronting a troubled glance from her father, she held onto his extended arm once more and waited. Neither of them said a word this time. Polly was there, none the wiser, as she offered Betty her bouquet and gave her hand an excited squeeze.

               “Are you ready?” She asked, beaming in that same pure, beautiful way that Polly Cooper always did.

               “Yep,” Betty muttered, smiling back for just a second before looking down at the flowers in her hands. She wanted to throw them across the hall and run. She wanted to scream and fight and cry and feel. Feel something. Feel anything.

The start of the wedding march made her jump. It was much louder than she had expected, causing her entire body to numb. Almost instinctively, she stole a glance at the door at the other end of the hall where she had been just moments earlier. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking for, but it wasn’t there.

Upon approaching the open entrance, Betty was uncomfortably aware of hundreds of eyes fixated solely on her. Their gazes were burning through her skin and she hated it. She knew that he would have hated it too, if he was here, which he wasn’t. She was aware of that more than anything else. They began to walk and the eyes turned into smiles, but Betty avoided every single one of them. She didn’t want to look at Archie; she didn’t want to look at anyone. She was scared that she might change her mind while there was still time. She didn’t trust herself, and she had every reason not to.

“You look beautiful,” Archie breathed when she had reached to join him. She looked back up then, meeting the gaze of the boy that she had once wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her life with. He was looking at her in a way she could never reciprocate. The truth was that she had given all of herself to someone else, and she had never gotten it back.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are gathered here today to witness the coming together of Archie Andrews and Betty Cooper in holy matrimony,” the vicar had begun, his words slowly turning into white noise inside of Betty’s head.

“If any person here knows of a reason why these two may not be joined together, please speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Betty’s whole body halted. She held her breath for what felt like a lifetime during those tiny few seconds, terrified of Jughead bursting through the doors and telling her not to go through with it. Terrified because she knew that she wanted him to. But he didn’t. In fact, there wasn’t a sound at all. Archie reached to grasp Betty’s hands and it made her flinch. Veronica shifted ever so slightly in her seat.

As she stood only moments away from becoming Archie’s wife, she thought back to all of those years ago when Archie had first proposed. He had done it quite impulsively, walking her home after a movie night and getting down on one knee whilst her back was turned. Initially she had told him that she would think about it, retreating into the house and thinking of nothing other than that night in the hospital instead. When she told her parents of Archie’s proposal, she was at a point in her life where she was at her most vulnerable. Life after Jughead and Toby had been hard, she felt as though she was getting older and getting nowhere. Settling down was very much a plausible and sensible option and, as much as she hated to admit it, she knew it.

“I say do it,” she remembered Hal exclaiming as he paced around the dining room table.

“Hal,” Alice had started. She was sat just beside Betty and had barely said a word for a good ten minutes.

“No,” he snapped. “Betty, we were so worried about you after everything that happened. Don’t you think you deserve to be happy again? To feel safe and secure? Archie will give you all of that.”

There was a brief silence, which was rare in the Cooper household. Betty was shocked that Alice was the quietest of them all.

“So, you think I should marry someone that I don’t even love?”

“Betty-“ Alice began, cut off by Hal before she could finish.

“I think you should think about your future,” he replied. “We only want the best for you. I’m sorry, but I was never keen on that Jughead anyway. It was a blessing in disguise when he left town.”

“Hal!” Alice screeched, nothing but fury in her eyes as she abruptly jumped up out of her chair.

Betty gaped in disbelief. “How dare you,” she jeered, her eyes blurred by warm tears as she stood to leave the room, unable to listen to another word that left her father’s mouth. She slammed the door behind her, running out into the cold, crisp air, forgetting to even pick up her coat as she did so. Where had he gone? Where was he now? Why did he leave her?

“Betty,” Alice called, quickening the pace to catch up with her. “Betty, please!”

“What?!” She cried, turning sharply. “You and Dad are suffocating me, Mom. I know I haven’t been myself lately, I know that-“

“You need to do what is right for you,” Alice interjected, beginning to raise her voice. “If that’s not marrying Archie, then that’s up to you, but if you’re putting your life on hold because you’re waiting for Jughead to come back-“

“No,” Betty snapped, something in her screaming and scratching to get out. “I’m not waiting for anything. I’m not an idiot.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want for everyone to just leave me the hell alone,” she hissed. It started to snow again, only ever so slightly, and Betty was beginning to feel the cold bite into her neck. “If it’s going to make you so happy, then I’ll just do it. Ok?”

Alice wrinkled her face as she shook her head. “What?”

“I’ll marry Archie,” she confirmed, her eyes vacant and nonchalant as she turned on her heel. “Go and tell dad, he’ll probably want to plan the whole thing to his liking anyway.”

Alice grabbed her arm frantically. “Betty, you’re not listening to me-“

“I guess I’ll see you at the wedding,” she spat, pulling herself out of her mother’s grasp. And with that, she walked on, nothing but the crunching of the snow to keep her company. Nobody followed her this time.

“Archie, do you take Betty to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love and to comfort, to have and to hold in sickness and in health, for better or worse, til death do you part?”

Betty was suddenly dragged back to reality faster than she would’ve liked, realising that she was no longer walking through the snow, but instead she was here. At the altar. Drowning.

“I do.” The words left Archie’s mouth as if they were the most natural and easiest thing he had ever said.

“Betty,” she jumped at the sound of her own name. “Do you take Archie to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to comfort, to have and to hold in sickness and in health, for better or-“


The silence that followed was a silence unlike any other that had come before it. The word had fallen out of Betty’s mouth with a bitter taste. Archie was still smiling, keeping his hands firmly on hers, but his conduct was beginning to falter.

“Is everything ok?” The vicar whispered, leaning ever so slightly into her. She looked at him and she looked at Archie and she couldn’t help but notice that there was a kind of inexplicable understanding there, as if both of them knew something that they were too afraid to speak of.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Yes, yes it is. Of course. Please, carry on.”

Despite Betty’s efforts, the atmosphere in the room had changed and it was impossible not to feel it. The vicar continued to recite the vow that she were to take after a slight hesitation, his voice now somewhat more cautious than it was before. This was it. As soon as she said those two simple words, there was no going back. She was sinking lower and lower out of her own accord, and nobody was reaching in the water to revive her.

Nobody, except one.

“Stop,“ a familiar voice bellowed, the squeak of a chair against the marble floor echoing throughout the entire room. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do this.”

Betty dropped Archie’s hands instantaneously, her attention shifting towards something else. Someone else. Everything that followed merged into a blur.


“Betty, I need you to listen to me.”

Alice swallowed, closing her eyes as if re-living a memory that she had never intended to revisit. She opened them again almost instantly, her face pained by an unspoken secret. She started to cry.

“We’ve been lying to you.”

give ‘em something to talk about

anon asked for SoMa + seductive kiss

This is set in an Actors AU. It also kind of made a weird turn near the end I wasn’t expecting, but I actually really like how this came out ^u^

Soul had expected a chaste kiss in the back of the limo.

Maka was never one for show of exposure especially after leaving extravagant events. The most they ever did on the way home was hold hands and cuddle while Soul brushed kisses along her temple. She had always told him paparazzi might follow them and try capturing a candid photo of them since they rarely did anything on the red carpet save for standing close to each other. A picture of them doing anything remotely racey would have sold for millions in their industry, and Maka didn’t want to be labeled a whore like her papa. It was one of the reasons Soul respected her wish to keep their relationship under the radar and the public to speculate what went on behind closed doors.

So when Maka pressed her lips to his, the last thing he expected was it to be anything more than chaste.

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