caught in the cycle

Why does everything turn into wolfstar smut?

Originally posted by maria-tries

  • Maybe some time around the age of 16 Remus’s transformations stop leaving him weak and hollow
  • In fact, they start to have the opposite effect 
  • Not that Remus notices; as usual his brilliant mind is always quietly occupied
  • But Sirius notices
  • Merlin Sirius notices
  • It starts with his shoulders, he can’t help but eye the way they sit a little broader when Remus stands up straight 
  • Then it’s his forearms, Sirius can see the tendons stand out a little when Remus lies on the sofa and holds his book above his head. 
  • After the next full moon, it’s his biceps - they start pushing against his shirt when he leans over his potions essay, and Sirius’s mouth all but drops to the floor
  • Suddenly it’s hard to be around Remus, literally, without feeling a tightness growing in his trousers
  • The boys sit opposite each other in the library for hours, an endless pile of homework and exam prep leaving them caught in a dizzying cycle of work, eat, sleep
  • They all need some relief, but fuck Sirius needs a very specific kind of relief
  • Exams are so close, and he has to focus, but just a look at Remus could flick a switch in his body
  • Even his hands, somehow his hands look bigger, stronger
  • Sirius starts biting down hard on his lip each time his eyes drift to his boyfriend in class, or the library, or the common room (okay, just about everywhere)
  • But after half a day his bottom lip becomes red and puffy
  • Instead Sirius finds himself disappearing to the toilets to splash cold water on his face more often than he’d like to admit
  • When Remus’s arm winds protectively around him as they walk down a busy corridor, he has to bite back a whine
  • And when Remus strolls out of the shower one morning, a towel slung low around his hips, Sirius just sits and stares 
  • Because his chest, Christ his chest has transformed
  • And it was all Sirius could do not to go over there and beg Remus to deal with his painfully hard arousal, right there in front of James and Peter
  • And when Remus caught him, eyes roving greedily across his bare skin and freshly tousled hair, he just stared right back and winked
  • Sirius rolled over in bed and bit down so hard on his pillow he could have torn it apart
  • This day was particularly torturous, and it didn’t help that the summer heat had Remus loosening the top few buttons of his shirt
  • Or that, in transfiguration, his hand had been resting high on Sirius’s thigh the whole time Frank was explaining petrification. 
  • Or that, as they walked to the library, Remus slid Sirius’s bag from his shoulder and slung it easily across his own, winding an arm around his waist 
  • By time they sat down Sirius was almost at breaking point, his frustration had his heart beating overtime and his head cloudy 
  • He cast his eyes down, trying desperately to ignore his boyfriend’s newly broadened shoulders, or his tight, hard chest
  • Or the way his arms looked when he stretched out like that, fuck
  • Sirius’s chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood up, muttering half an excuse about the bathroom 
  • He didn’t feel connected to his feet as they carried him through the library, eyebrows furrowed and head fuzzy
  • He didn’t notice Remus until his fingers were locked around his wrists, and his whole body tugged sideways
  • Sirius’s soft moan of surprise was muffled by Remus’s lips, which collided with his before he could even gather his surroundings
  • Remus’s hand travelled to Sirius’s neck, his thumb pressing gently into the soft skin, while his other grasped at his hips
  • Sirius thought his legs would give way at any moment 
  • Just as abruptly as it began, Remus drew away, focusing his burning eyes on Sirius
  • “You keep disappearing.” He murmured “And you won’t look at me.”
  • He pressed a thumb to Sirius’s puffy bottom lip “You’re not telling me something Sirius.”
  • Again, Remus’s hand slid back to Sirius’s neck, a gentle pressure aiding the fuzzy euphoria Sirius felt at his touch
  • Tell me.” He growled. 
  • When his face blurred back into view, an almost delirious Sirius saw Remus’s expression harden
  • “I can take it.” He said, lowly
  • Sirius frowned, still breathless, resisting the urge to buck his hips into Remus’s warm, gorgeous body 
  • “It’s you.” He murmured, looking down
  • Suddenly, inexplicably, he felt ashamed
  • “You’ve changed and I can’t - I can’t cope. It’s not that I didn’t like you before, I love you whatever you - what ever you look like - and you were always gorgeous, but now you’re just, you’re just kind of perfect and it’s just” Remus’s proximity making Sirius almost incoherent.
  • “…it’s just your shoulders got bigger, and your arms, and I can’t stop, I can’t focus and I know you just want to work and there’s no time for it so I was trying not to bother you but fuck Remus.”
  • “What?” Remus’s hand tilted Sirius’s chin up, forcing him to meet his confused gaze. 
  • Sirius shuttered under his boyfriend’s newly bulky frame
  • “You’re not…” Remus frowned. “I thought you liked someone else.”
  • Sirius nearly choked. “What?” He spluttered.  
  • “Remus” He snapped, taking control and pushing himself closer to the boy. “I can’t focus on anything but you. I can’t study, I can’t sleep, I can’t look at you in class without…” Sirius groaned and pushed his hips against Remus, using his hard arousal to illustrate his point. 
  • Sirius pressed frantic kisses into to the soft skin on Remus’s neck. “And when you came out of the shower today…”
  • Sirius’s sentence ended in a gasp as his back hit a smooth, cool wall. Remus’s warm mouth was at his neck, his hands pressing down his sides, their bodies flush against each other
  • “Why didn’t you tell me?” Remus growled. “Why didn’t you let me help you?”
  • Sirius only moaned in response as Remus’s thigh found its way between his legs, pressing teasingly against him
  • “Sirius.” Remus growled again. “Why?”
  • “You were…busy.” Sirius groaned, feeling Remus grip his chin. 
  • “Look at me.” Remus ordered, his eyes burning. “I am never too busy for you, Sirius Black.”
  • Sirius looked at his boyfriend, panting. His hips bucked into Remus, and he tried to connect their lips again, but he felt a strong hand push him back, denying him.
  • “Now, say it back to me.” Ordered Remus. “I’m never too busy to fuck you, say it back.”
  • Sirius shuttered, Remus telling him what to do was just, fuck
  • “You’re never too busy to fuck me.” Sirius’s need was turning his voice into a desperate whine, but Remus didn’t move.
  • His eyes burned into Sirius’s, and his voice was low and threatening. “Next time you need me, you’re going to tell me, okay? You’re going to say: ‘Remus, I need you to fuck me now.’ And I’m then going to fuck you, okay?” 
  • Sirius’s eyes almost rolled upwards, his whole body was trembling.
  • “Remus,” Sirius managed to whisper, somewhat calmly. “I need you to fuck me now.”
  • Sirius shuttered as he felt Remus grip the back of his thighs, easily lifting Sirius up and pressing him against the wall, his legs now hooked around his waist.
  • “Good boy.” Remus whispered.
  • ME!ME!ME!: Boy caught in cycle of demonizing women and putting them on a pedestal. He is unable to keep meaningful relationships because of his inability to separate fantasy from reality and suffers for it.
  • GIRL: Girl realizing she lives in a world where sex and romanticizing everything is seen is ideal. She thinks she's okay with that and okay with being objectified because she holds some power in her own sexuality and attractiveness, but ultimately breaks under the fear of constantly and truly being alone.
  • me: well fcu k
  • Me: I want to write today
  • Brain: What if every sentence you wrote turned into a jumbled mess and also you became distracted by the feeling of keys under your fingers, so you just started typing nonsense for repeated stimulation.
  • Me: Okay, but consider: Why
  • Brain: click clack the keys go smick smack. Sserp.

anonymous asked:

hey i wanna die what should i do

one of my fav carrie fisher quotes is “sometimes you can only find heaven by slowly backing away from hell” which means, to me, that my life doesn’t need to be wonderful and perfect all the time but that dealing & coping with my current situation and not getting caught up into a negative thought cycle is just as admirable and important as ‘having it all together’. you may feel like living today isn’t worthwhile but you don’t know about all the other future days- live for small things, 'silly’ things like a new season of a tv show, live for your future self and how grateful you will be for surviving.

Parse curls up on Bitty like a cat. He plops his head down on Bitty’s lap and curls up so that he’s taking up as little room on the couch as possible and as much room on Bitty as possible. His hair falls in a fluffy halo and Bitty smooths it out and scratches him while Parse pushes his face into Bitty’s hand.

Parse doesn’t say “I love you” a lot, even though Bitty hands out his overflowing love like candy. What he does is pick up Bitty’s favorite brand of butter right before it runs out, or wait two hours online to purchase the Beyoncé products in an auction. He tells Bitty that he misses him and sends him pictures of Kit mewling at the screen because Kit misses Bitty, too. Bitty returns the the favor on long roadies, often accompanied by a “love you, honey.”

Parse can’t make the endearments come out of his mouth easily. He wishes that he can call Bitty sweetpea, darling, dearest, all those names that Bitty showers upon him. Bitty can’t keep from telling Parse that he loves him, his sweet peachpie of a handsome, rugged, darling of a man.

“I love you,” Parse says sometimes, when the phrase doesn’t threaten to choke him up. When he’s sure that Bitty won’t run away. He tries his best to match Bitty endearment for endearment. The happier Bitty makes him, the harder he tries to do something special for him.

It’s so easy, because when Bitty is happy Kent becomes happier, and it’s like a vicious cycle of happiness that Kent gets caught up in until he’s pillowing his head on Bitty’s lap and he never wants to let Bitty go and he remembers how easy it would be for Bitty to leave him. Then Bitty would start caressing his face and Kent lets himself relax against him.

“And I said, why are you telling me you don’t like hockey, that’s what the dang blog is about!” Wine sloshes around in the glass Bitty holds in one hand as the other continues to play with Kent’s face and hair.

“Mmm,” Kent says. “Keep that up.”

Bitty looks down at him fondly and puts away his wine glass to bury both hands in Kent’s hair.

“Sometimes I feel like I have two cats instead of one,” he smiles.

“You do only have one cat, Kit isn’t owned by anyone.” Kent tries to purr, but it comes out to sound like he’s clearing his throat.

“Are you sayin’ I own you?” Bitty says teasingly, pulling Kent’s hair lightly.

You know that you own me heart and soul, Kent tries to say, but fail.

“I’m saying you better keep up with that petting game,” he says instead.

“Okay, okay,” Bitty bends down to give him a quick peck before resuming his massage. “Oh and let me tell you about Aunt Connie’s nephew’s -the nephew on her husband’s side of the family-”

Kent smiles contently, and falls asleep to the gentle lull of Bitty’s voice.



Fearless learner, curious creature, powerful survivor. Emotions slide through trembling bodies like landslides, revealing gems that gleam through the darkness. Control is sought and gained timelessly, caught in a cycle of destruction and success. Wanting hands clasp destiny in their palms, fingers curled tight enough to leave crescent-shaped marks in too-soft flesh.

I think there was a post @crimsondomingo made that I commented on about Barry being mistaken for a metahuman that spontaneously combusts.

And just, what if Barry’s powers hadn’t developed the way they had? What if Barry really only had the ability to vibrate? Of course his very molecules vibrating causes friction that results in ‘spontaneous combustion’ aka suddenly Barry is on fire. The usual victim of such occurrences are Barry’s clothes.

Caitlin works out that an elevated heart rate, rapid breathing, and spikes of adrenaline all cause the combustion rate to accelerate. You know, pretty much everything a person would do upon seeing they have randomly caught on fire (again).

It’s a vicious cycle of Barry catches on fire, Barry panics, Barry burns faster, Barry panics some more, and now Barry has no clothes. It usually happens when Barry is running late to somewhere (not Speedster running, but normal human speed running.) Dr. Wells thinks there might yet be undiscovered capabilities of Barry’s powers. Barry really hopes so but until then he’d like to stop burning his clothes out in public where anyone could see him.

Thankfully Cisco has him covered (literally) with friction/heat resistant looking clothes to wear under his day clothes. They’re not perfect but at least he’s not streaking through the streets of Central.

Of course without the Flash the metahuman crisis is a lot more noticeable to the general public a lot sooner. Cisco comes to Barry for help because someone has taken two of his prototypes (‘You built a gun to hurt me?’ 'Dude, no! I just got thinking we needed to invest in fire extinguishers but why do that if I could build the ultimate fire extinguisher?’ 'Ok, that’s fair.’ 'The Heat Gun just sort of came about as a result of building the Cold Gun. Anyways, please help me with your CSI skills to track the guns down?’).

Mick doesn’t think much about the kid wandering into the bad part of town. He looks a little lost and maybe relying on a bad map app to navigate with the way he keeps studying is phone. Might as well be wearing a neon 'MUG ME!’ sign as far as Mick cares to judge.

Then, unexpectedly, the kid’s coat catches fire.

Barry’s introduction to the Rogues is an overly friendly yet forceful Mick Rory brining him to the latest safe house to meet Leonard Snart. Snart could use a metahuman mascot for the little criminal empire he’s trying to build.

At least Barry found where the Heat and Cold guns got to….
Aegis (In this World or Any Other) Chapter 3 | A Reylo Fanfic
She took pity on the god no one ever visited, the god she doesn’t believe in, when she started leaving small offerings at his feet. She should have listened to local superstition.
By Organization for Transformative Works


Chapter preview:

The little mouse stops visiting.

Kylo lets it go at first, a reminder of Hux’s last visit still fresh in his mind as he sits on his throne and fills his waking days by listening to one unending tale after another; creatures from all reaches of the galaxy now stripped of their corporeal bodies, until only the flame of their essence float before him, putting forth every deed done in their miserable lives.

But as the hours turn monotonous, as he finds himself once more caught up in an endless cycle of death, and judgement, only to crawl into his bed with mind-numbing exhaustion for yet another sleepless eternity, Kylo Ren’s thoughts wander back to the mouse— the girl.

Author’s note: New chapter!! too lazy to find a gif, so you guys get the moodboard ;p Whatever is Kylo up to now. A huge thanks to my bb @darth-ej as always for betaing for me.

what sucks about hetalia is that if you don’t draw popular stuff you won’t get any recognition. I only have 5k followers bc I draw gerita, fruk, usuk, whatever. I don’t even like some of the things that I draw, but I do it anyway bc I know it’ll get notes. Sometimes younger or newer artists ask me for advice and I honestly have to tell them that if they don’t draw popular ships or characters in this fandom they won’t get anywhere. And that’s absolutely the truth.

And I know everyone likes to say that it’s okay to draw what you want and unpopular ships or unrecognized characters, but what’s the point? The hetalia fandom has caught itself in a never ending cycle of fans who want content for rare ships but can only find it in popular ships bc creators won’t create for rare ships bc no one looks for it. It’s a hard problem to fix, and honestly it probably won’t be fixed. And that’s to say nothing of the fact that people like to stick with the works of one particular creator, and not give anyone else a chance.

Like, I actually really like hetalia, but the fandom situation is so terrible that I would rather leave. I mean I won’t, because it took me a while to get to this level of popularity in the hetalia fandom and tbh I don’t want to have to work this hard in any other fandom. But not everyone else is like me, and that’s why the hetalia fandom is dying. So if you really want to do something about the situation, give creators something to work for. Like @hetaliafandomhub is doing a really great job of getting lesser known people out there, but if the fandom isn’t willing to participate then we’re stuck in the same rut we’ve been in. So please just try to give new people a chance, because if you don’t give them any incentive to grow and develop their skills then they’ll give up on the fandom and move on to somewhere where they’ll get what they deserve

Cherish It - Poe Dameron Imagine

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mentions of death, nightmares, mourning

Summary: Poe and you have been together for two years, and missions were a part of his daily life. You had accepted it. The last one he mentioned but never told you how long it would take. It had been two weeks. Were you overreacting?

Word Count: 3133

You did it! You finished another simulated mission with minimal damage to the ship and the task completed with more than two minutes to spare. “A new record!” your supervisor told you and patted you on the back. “You deserve it.”

You nodded. “Well, I worked to get this far.”

“Where are you going?”

You looked around. You groaned. Again. Usually, at this time, you’d go to Poe’s room and tell him about what you did in training. However, Poe had been on a mission for the last two weeks, and it blew your schedule out of the water. You jogged back to your supervisor. “Sorry. Habit.”

Your supervisor hummed with raised eyebrows. “How long have you two been together?”

You blushed. “Uh, I believe it’s been almost two years.”


“Thanks.” You giggled. People must have thought the two of you were crazy. For two years you’ve been together, and every time one of you hears the other’s name you still blush like first loves.

Over the speakers, a voice announced, “Starfighter Unit-” and was interrupted by the clamor of people racing to the loading bay.

“Wait, what unit?” you asked.

Your supervisor shrugged.

You shook your head and ran to the landing bay. Maybe that was Poe’s unit. Maybe he was back from his top secret mission. He was a brilliant pilot, one of the best. General Organa even said so. He should be-

There were many starfighters of different sorts. One was missing, but the pilot was secure at another base from what you heard. You stared at one of the ships. What unit was it? Maybe it was his.


You tore your gaze from the empty ship. “Oh, Myung, how are you?” You peeked over his shoulder.

Myung looked behind him and sighed. “It’s not his unit, you know?”

You stomped your foot and cursed under your breath.

The man laughed. “You know Poe’s coming back.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and led you away from the loading bay.

You sighed. “It’s been two weeks. What could he possibly be doing?”

Your friend smiled. “Poe Dameron always comes back. You know, as he always says-”

“I can fly anything, anytime, anywhere and be back before you notice I’m gone,” you both finished. Myung continued, “Tell me again how exactly you fell for the most egotistical pilot in the Resistance.”

“No clue.” You poked Myung in the chest. “Tell me again how exactly you became the best friend of the most egotistical pilot and,” you puffed out your chest, “the best student pilot of the Resistance.”

Myung raised an eyebrow. “Who’s the student pilot?”

You elbowed Myung, and the two of you laughed. However, your laughter was cut short. A man in uniform and a march in his step approached the two of you. His eyes softened at the sight of you, even though you didn’t recognize him. He told Myung, “Lieutenant Joon, you are needed for a mission briefing. Results have come back.”

Myung nodded and gave you a quick hug. “I’ll see you later. May the force be with you.”

“May the force be with you, Myung.”

With one last look at the field, you started back to your training. You were one of the most dedicated students. Many said that if it weren’t for protocol, you’d be a pilot already. It was mostly, because, in times of war, you didn’t really have much to do besides training. You trained after hours and before. When in doubt, you were training.

You didn’t even notice two hours had passed until you saw Myung pass by. And he looked horrible. He looked sick. His skin was pale and you could see the bluish veins on his forehead. He was wringing his hands so fast that you were sure his skin would shed if he continued. His eyes were so focused on the ground, he didn’t even look up when you tapped him on the shoulder.


He jerked and grabbed your wrist and stepped to the side, ready to throw your over.

You’ve sparred with him before, so you easily evaded the attack by kicking him in the back of the knee so he lost his balance. You pushed him down to the floor by the shoulder. “Myung!”

He stared at you and gulped. “Sorry, (Y/n). I-” He stuttered.

You held out a hand for him to grab and helped him up. You rubbed his shoulder. “Are you ok?”

Myung nodded frantically. “Yeah. I’m good. I’m fine.” He shuddered a little. Once his eyes met yours, he quickly looked away. “Uh, sorry. And thanks for, uh, helping me.” He glanced around. “I’ve gotta go.”

You pulled him back. “Myung,” your tone dropped and you suddenly had the voice of a general, “what happened?”

He shook his head, his eyes glazing over with fear. Fear of what? You didn’t know. It could’ve been a load of things, really. Despite having a low status as Lieutenant, he still had a title. They told him the most general things that they kept away from the public. Where the Resistance would strike next, what information was still needed, and such. However, most news like that never struck fear into Myung so immensely. The only thing that would…

Your eyes widened in realization. “Myung, where’s Poe?” It all made sense. Poe was sent on a mission he didn’t tell you about, meaning it was classified or so simple it didn’t require a description. Either way, two weeks for such a mission was unheard of. He would’ve told you if it was that long. He would’ve!

Where could he be? If it was a simple mission, he could be stranded on a planet with no resources and just needed to be picked up by another pilot. But, that couldn’t be possible. Myung wouldn’t be so pale. No, it was more dangerous than that. Poe was missing or confirmed to be taken by the First Order.

Both possibilities made you paler than Myung. Your skin iced over in less than a second. You dropped Myung’s hand and held a hand over your mouth as the inevitable cries washed over you.

Myung reached out to you. “Nothing’s confirmed-”

“When was he supposed to be here?” you choked out.

Myung gulped. He stared at his hands and said, “Now, the mission could just be taking longer. Poe could still-”

“When, Myung?!”

Your best friend muttered with wide eyes like he didn’t want to hear it himself, “The mission should’ve taken a day, (Y/n). He has made no contact for more than 300 hours.”

Your chest clenched and suffocated your lungs. Something was crushing your lungs, and your heart was crying to be let out. You staggered down the hall until a wall stopped you from going any further.

Poe was supposed to have been here, at the base, safe and with you, two weeks ago. The mission was so simple. What could’ve gone wrong? Several things really. He could be stranded and with no resources or communications. He could be hiding on a First Order planet with a damaged ship. Worst of all, he could’ve been taken by the First Order. He could be tortured or…

You whined right into your hand. You didn’t even notice you had leaned against the wall and fell down to the floor until your tears hit the floor which was way closer than you thought.

Myung was right by your side. He hugged you as close as he could. “We don’t know what happened. He could just be recovering-”

“No one disappears for that long.” You shivered, for even the warmth of your best friend couldn’t make your skin less cold. “One week, Myung. They give pilots one week!” You gulped. “They’re not even looking for him.”

Myung gulped. “There’s no confirmation-”

“He’s gone in the eyes of the Resistance!” you yelled. “If you don’t come back in a week from your deadline, you’re considered gone, Myung! He’s-” You stopped. You pressed your palms against your eyes and tried to staunch your tears. You couldn’t even say it. You couldn’t say what inevitably must have happened. You couldn’t believe it. The best pilot in all galaxies, the pilot who stole your heart and gladly gave you his in return, the man you loved was… He was…

News spread and soon everyone was looking at you and Myung with pity in their eyes and whispers of the tragedy. You didn’t want to hear them or look at them or feel their eyes on you, so you stayed in the silence and privacy of your own room. You had passed by his room first, but you couldn’t even look at it without gasping and crying. Your room was a tad better. The room didn’t smell like him, but the pillow he used when he was in your room did. The closet wasn’t filled with his clothes, but there were a few sweaters and shirts that you had kept that glared at you every time you open your closet. Both rooms had pictures of you and him, so neither was better at that.

He was a ghost, a phantom, in your room and his, and you forgot to breathe sometimes.

Myung came by sometimes. His eyes had bags under them, and his hands were always shaking. But, he came to give you food. The two of you would eat in silence while he wrote reports and scanned reports and authorized reports. He was never seen without his files and tablets and pencils in his sleeves.

You were never seen out of your room. You had sobbed and wailed so much the first day that you got tired of crying and fell asleep. Your dreams were filled with him and precious memories so real that you believed he was still in the base. When you woke up in the evening, tears soaked your pillow, and it reminded you of why you cried. Reality caught up, and your dreams were false. You cried again.

It became a cycle of crying, nibbling, dreaming, and repeating. The dreams were more like nightmares. You were losing hope every time you woke up.

One day, you were staring at the wall when a fight had started outside. There was banging and scuffling, and it gave you a headache. You threw your head back and tried your best to tune it out. But, since… since that happened, your patience grew thinner and thinner.

You stomped out of your bed and opened your door. “Hey! Some of us need to mourn, so excuse me if I wanted some peace and quiet!” You heaved and tears burned your eyes again. You wiped your tears and glared at the culprits.

There was a doctor with a small flashlight and bandages tucked in his belt. The other man, however, was Poe, the very Poe you lost more than three weeks before. He was disheveled. His eyes looked tired, and a bruise was forming on his cheek. There were multiple cuts on his face, and there was something obviously wrong with his left leg for his weight was all on his right. Usually, in your little nightmares, he was either well or dead, never in between.

Poe stared at you. You looked horrible. Your eyes were red. Your skin was as pale as paper. Veins decorated your skin like blue chains. You were leaning against the wall, too. Obvious signs of sleep deprivation and maybe even hunger. Guilt stabbed him in the gut. This was all his doing. If he had been more careful…

“No.” You stumbled over your feet and fell to the floor. You shut your eyes and clutched your hair. “No, come on. Wake up, (Y/n). Wake up. It’s not real. It’s not real. Just another nightmare. Another nightmare is all.” You kept on chanting those phrases to yourself.  Poe was gone. You knew it. It had been three weeks, and he wasn’t coming back. You’d just wake up and feel even worse, so you had to wake up now.

“(Y/n)!” Poe shoved the doctor away and limped to you. “(Y/n), hey, it’s ok.” He reached out to brush your hair from your face.

You slapped the hand away. “No! You’re not real!” You heaved. “No, I can’t take it. Not another time. Not again. Please.” Your voice dropped to a ghost of a whisper, “Wake up, (Y/n), please.”

Poe reached out again. “(Y/n)-”


He wiped his tears. “Come on, (Y/n).” Poe hugged you to his chest and avoided your poorly aimed punches. “(Y/n), it’s me. It’s really me.”

You pounded your fists against his chest and tried pushing against his chest. However, it was no use. His warmth enveloped you, and you felt whole again. The familiar lightness and giddiness bubbled in your stomach, no matter how much you told it not to. You continued to throw your own punched at him. Right. Left. Right again.

But it was tiring. Not long after, your muscles were tired, and you couldn’t lift them without difficulty. Your body relaxed, and each curve fit exactly into his body. Two pieces of a puzzle finally joined and connected, never to be taken apart.

You sobbed. “No, it’s not real,” you whispered. You clenched your fists and scooted as much away from him as you could.

Poe pulled you in tighter. He kissed the top of your head and continued to brush his fingers through your hair. He gulped before asking, “Casanova, how can you tell if you’re dreaming?”

You froze. You hadn’t heard that nickname, let alone that question. Poe asked you that many times after a certain mission. He had come home unconscious. When he finally woke up, he was scared to sleep. He would rush to your room, for his dreams were always set on base, and ask you if he was dreaming. He’d ask you how he could tell he was dreaming.

You shook your head. “Uh, count fingers.” You stared at your hands. There were ten like they should be.

Poe held your hands and tapped each of your fingers gently. You blushed before you could stop yourself.

“Ok,” Poe smiled a brilliant smile, “ten fingers. What else?”

When he looked at you like that, words escaped your brain. His eyes were beautiful and comforting, like the cup of coffee you usually got. How is it even possible that someone with a bruise on his cheek and cuts on his forehead could still smile like the sun shines?

Poe laughed a little. “Casano-o-ova,” he sang a bit. “How else?”

“Right, uh, if I can read the same thing twice… and it doesn’t change.”

Poe pointed at his uniform. “What does it say?”

“It says, ‘Poe Dameron.’” Tears brimmed in your eyes.

He nodded. Poe brushed your hair behind your ear. “Good, you’re doing amazing, my Casanova. Now, read it one more time.”

You laughed and smiled. “Poe Dameron.” It was him. It had to be. How could a figment of your imagination be like this? So breath-takingly considerate?

“Ok, almost done. One more test, ok? You remember?”

You nodded. “Breathing even though your nose and mouth are covered.” You licked your lips. “Yeah, that’s it. Breathing when you have no way of-”

Poe was suddenly really close to you. His forehead rested against yours, and his hands were tangled in your hair. “You wanna plan this together?”

You giggled. He was real. He really was real. “Yeah.”

“So, I can cover your mouth. Try covering your nose?”

You reached out and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Good plan.” You pressed your lips against his. Tingles ran down your spine and right to your feet. His warmth, his scent, his lips were so familiar and comforting. It was like drinking a nice glass of water after a hearty and rich meal. It was refreshing, and it was home.

When Poe pulled away, he was smiling like he had won the war against the First Order. He tapped your nose. “You didn’t cover your nose, Casanova.”

With all the buzzing in your head, the only word you could say was, “Nope.”

Poe rubbed your cheek. He kissed you again. “You could be dreaming.”

“No,” you shook your head, “I couldn’t dream this up.” You ran your finger down his wounds. His many wounds. The memories of the last few weeks, the emptiness, the mourning, the pain, filled your thoughts. “You were dead. What happened to you?” You shot up to a kneeling position so you could be slightly taller than he was. You turned his head to examine the bruise. “Poe-”

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve been more careful. They knew I was coming. They caught me for a while, but I escaped. And I was stranded somewhere and next thing I know-”

“Hey, I’ll scold you for whatever you did later.” You kissed his forehead, carefully avoiding the cuts. “Right now, you need the med bay.” You pulled him up from the ground and wrapped his arm around your shoulder so you could support some of his weight. You muttered his catch-phrase, “I fly this, that, there, and be back before you notice I’m gone.” You scoffed. “Before I notice. Psh!”

Poe laughed a little. “You’re gonna kill me, aren’t you, Casanova?”

“Mhm. As long as Myung doesn’t kill you first.”

Poe cursed under his breath.

It had been a month since Poe had risen from the dead. You and Myung were by his side every step of the way. General Organa even stopped by sometimes.

You were watching Myung help Poe in physical therapy.

“Congratulations, Pilot,” the general greeted you.

You jerked. “General! Thank you.” You turned your attention to Myung and Poe.

General Organa stood next to you. “He has a strong heart, that man.”

You sighed. “That he does, General.”

“I take it you’re the reason for that, Ms. (Y/l/n).”

You gasped. The room got a few degrees hotter, and you could feel your cheeks and ears suffer from the heat. “What do y-you mean by that, General?” you stuttered.

The wise woman smiled and straightened her back. “I know love when I see it. You’re his, how does he say it, Casanova?”

Your cheeks were burning.

The general laughed. “Don’t worry, dear. He and you both need each other. It’s… simply breathtaking. With the First Order on the horizon and both of you as pilots, things like this are rare. Cherish it.”

You smiled softly. Poe was making so much progress. He caught you staring and waved a little. He winked at you before blowing a kiss.

You laughed and caught the kiss in your hand before pocketing it. “Trust me, General. I will.”

I got out another one!!! I am so happy to be back, guys! I missed writing these. Anyway, angst and fluff all in one. Also my OC, Myung! I love that dude. Hope you enjoy!

anonymous asked:

How do they procrastinate?

Noctis: A “productive” procrastinator. Instead of doing work he’s supposed to do, he spends hours organizing his closet or cleaning his room. This is the only time he’d actually voluntarily clean his room.

Prompto: The exact opposite of Noctis in that he doesn’t get anything done while procrastinating. He plays video games for a couple hours, then gets on the computer at 10 pm ready to start whatever he was putting off but ends up on the weird side of Youtube watching conspiracy videos.

Gladio: Underestimates how much effort his work will require and puts it off to the last minute because he works well under pressure. Gladio usually can get a lot done with “due the next day” adrenaline but now and then he gets too much on his plate.

Ignis: Doesn’t procrastinate in the usual sense that he puts off what he’s doing, but Ignis gets so caught up in perfecting his work that he never finishes. Just when he moves on to the next step Ignis thinks of a way to improve the previous work and gets caught up in an endless cycle.

Sweetheart - Part 2 // Archie Andrews

“Please do a part two of Sweetheart!!”

“Part 2 of "sweetheart” please😭😭😭"

“wth is part 2???…”

This has been so highly requested it’s unbelievable, but here’s what you’ve all been waiting for. I quickly want to note something in my opinion with relationships; please be ever so careful if your significant other has cheated once before, some don’t, but some do cheat again. You’re a human with feelings, please never get caught in a cycle of an on again/off again relationship, you’re more important and loved to be put through that pain. Do what’s right for you. Love you all 🌸💕


It had been almost three days since I broke up with Archie. Since my parents were away on a business trip, I managed to get out of going to school. I couldn’t face my friends, I couldn’t face him. I didn’t know how much the break up would affect me and my whole physical being, but it took a toll, more then I imagined.

I laid in my bed, curtains half closed, raindrops falling against my window, matching my mood. Usually, the rain makes me happier and content, instead, it made every emotion I was feeling worse.

Heartbreak was a painful thing, especially when you’ve been cheated on. I never thought someone who I deeply cared about could hurt me in a way that destroyed whatever happiness I had left. It was almost a never ending nightmare.

I heard my bedroom door open, seeing Ronnie, Betty and Kevin marching in. Betty pushed open my curtains whilst I groaned, throwing a pillow over my head, attempt in hiding from them.

‘Y/N, this is ridiculous! You need to get up!’ Ronnie ordered. I groaned in response, feeling the pillow taken away from me.

I stared at my friends, throwing my covers over my head instead. 'Y/N, you gotta get up. You’ve missed too much of school, Cheryl has been demanding that you show up to practise or you’re off the squad, you’re better than this.’ I heard Betty say, peeling off my covers. She caught sight of my broken features, giving me a comforting smile.

'I can’t face him.’ I expressed with no emotion in my voice.

'Yes you can. You won’t be alone either, you have us.’ Ronnie sat on the other side of me, sitting a box with a cupcake inside on my lap. I sat up, looking at my friends.

'People are going to ask questions. I can’t answer with the truth because I’m an idiot and-’

'You still care about him.’ Kevin finished, sitting next to Ronnie. I sighed, nodding my head.

'Y/N, we’ve let you deal with it your way for as long as possible, but, sitting here in darkness waiting for change and happiness to happen isn’t the way to do it.’ Ronnie soothed. I stared at her, my eyes beginning to water. 'I know it’s hard, hun, but I promise you’ll get through it.’

'I can’t see him, I can’t do it. It hurts too much.’ I felt tears trickle down my cheeks as my three best friends moved closer to me, pulling me in for a group hug.

'We know, but we believe in you. Now, get up, have a shower. We’re going to Pop’s.’ Betty encouraged. I gave a look to my friends, rolling my eyes as I got up, walking to my bathroom.


Walking into Pop’s, I was on high alert for my ex-boyfriend, knowing his more than likely to be here at some point. I hugged my cardigan around me tighter, sitting next to Kevin in our booth. I looked around, not catching sight of any auburn hair.

'I’ll go get us some milkshakes.’ Ronnie announced, walking over to the counter.

I sighed, looking out for the door. Kevin placed a reassuring hand over mine on the table, giving me a proud smile. I gave a weak one in return, hearing the door bell echo. I looked over to see Chuck and a few of his football buddies walking in, their obnoxiously loud voices giving me a sight headache.

'They’re the most annoying humans on the planet I swear.’ Betty mumbled, anger evident in her tone.

'I can argue with that.’ I chuckled, for the first time in three days.

Soon enough, Chuck made his way over to our booth, resting his hands on our table, staring down at me.

'Y/N L/N, rumour has it you and Andrews are over?’ He smirked, licking his lips.

I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest. 'Go away, Chuck. Your presence is unwanted.’ I spat, glaring up at him.

'Oh, don’t be so glum, baby. I bet I could give it to you better than what he use to do.’

I scoffed at him in disgust. The thought of that made me want to throw up.

'Leave her alone, Chuck.’ Betty interrupted, glaring at him.

'This doesn’t concern you, Cooper.’ Chuck bit back.

'Don’t talk to her like that.’ I stood up from my seat, standing up to him.

He chuckled sarcastically, throwing his head back. 'You’re cute, Y/N. Really, god damn adorable.’ He smirked, grabbing my wrist with a surprising amount of force.

'Let go of me.’ I snapped, trying to pull away from him. I saw Betty and Kevin stand up from their seats.

'Don’t deny you want me, Y/N.’

'Back off, Chuck. Now.’ I turned my head to see Archie standing there, Ronnie and Jughead behind him. My breath got caught in my throat, seeing my raging ex-boyfriend death glaring Chuck, his fist clenched at his side.

'What are you going to do about it, Andrews? She’s up for the taking.’

Archie growled, pushing Chuck away from me with a great deal of force. I felt Ronnie pull me away from a fight that could possibly break out.

'Don’t you dare talk about her that way.’ Archie gripped him by the collar, causing a hand to fly to my mouth.

'Wow, tough guy, huh?’ Chuck taunted, chuckling.

'Get the hell out of here, or I’ll do something that I’ll regret.’ Archie spat. Chuck licked his lips once more whilst Archie was watching Chuck’s every step with his friends, watching him leave Pop’s.

I panted a little, feeling sick staring at Archie. I quickly pushed myself away from Ronnie, turning around and running out of Pop’s.

'Y/N! Wait!’ I heard Archie exclaim, following me outside.

I sprinted through the parked cars, trying to dodge him at all costs.

'Y/N, stop!’

'I can’t even look at you!’ I shouted, walking over to my car.

'Then don’t, just listen!’ He exclaimed, making my movements stop. I didn’t dare turn around to face him, I couldn’t bare to look at him.

'How can I even hear what you have to say?’ I snapped.

'I know I don’t deserve it but, I love you, Y/N, from the bottom of my heart I do. I messed up. I cheated and ruined everything, this is all my fault, I know that. But, I want you to know this; I promise you I was manipulated by her and what she wanted from me. Should I have seen it sooner? Yes, but I didn’t and I’m an idiot. Please - look at me, Y/N,’

I sniffled, slowly turning around to face him, his face dropping seeing my own. 'I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t say it anymore then I am sorry, from the bottom of my heart. Sweetheart, I still love you. I haven’t stopped and never stopped.’

I shook my head, looking down at the ground before my gaze found his again.

'Archie, you think an apology is going to make this all okay? That I’ll forget about it and give you a second chance to redeem yourself? This isn’t some fairytale crap, Archie, this is real life.’ I cried, wiping my eyes quickly. 'I don’t know if I can’t trust you again…’

'So, what are we doing then? What are we?’ Archie asked, stepping closer to me.

I sighed, biting my bottom lip. 'We’ll be amicable for now. These things will take time. It’ll take you a lot to be close friends with me again.’ I wiped my eyes, sniffling again.

'What about our relationship?’ He asked in a mere whisper, looking down at the ground. I sighed again, clasping my hands together.

'I’ll forgive Archie, but I’ll never forget.’ I concluded. 'The future is undecided, but for now, we’ll remain just as friends.’

'Alright, I can respect that. Again, I’m so sorry, Y/N.’

'I know.’ I nodded.


Paring: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Tags: female reader, punk!Bucky Barnes, rlly I mean punk, amputee Bucky Barnes, amputation humour, dark humour, College AU, punks, alcohol, reader is a dancer, angst, cutesy, fluff, Bucky feels, POV Bucky Barnes.

SummaryEvery Wednesday, without fail, there was a girl who’d run through the conjoined classrooms in E Block. She’d always have her satchel bursting at the seams, and be wearing the same thing. Black leotard with ruched shoulders, tights. Hair falling out of a scrappy bun. Worn out military boots.

Bucky Barnes got out of the military, but not after his arm decided to leave him first. Now, in university, he’s trying to make something of himself, but that’s all fine and well but he can’t help but notice the girl who’d interrupt his advanced physics class…

Notes: Inspired by one of my favourite tumblr artists’ rendition of Punk Bucky. Shout out to @illustratedkate for being so darn talented!

Word Count: 3,035

Posting Date:  2017-05-29

Current Date: 2017-06-15

Originally posted by vibraniumdoll

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“…The Cape still might find a second life on cable. And I’ll tell you why. El corazόn del agua es verdad. That water is a lie! Harrison Ford is irradiating our testicles with microwave satellite transmissions! So maybe we are caught in an endless cycle of screw-ups and hurt feelings. But I choose to believe it’s just the universe’s way of molding with into some kind of super group. ”

“Like the Traveling Wilburys!”

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