he was the first to go down the ramp after all

Be My Boyfriend

[ao3]

“Dean, be my boyfriend!” Castiel hissed.

Dean’s attention was pulled away from Charlie (who snorted into her drink) when Castiel grabbed his arm.

“Uh,” Dean said, feeling like he was missing out on some vital information. Castiel’s wide eyes were a little too bright and his cheeks were flushed with pink, indicating that he was probably a little bit drunk, though that still didn’t help clear up the situation.

“Come here!” Castiel dragged Dean by the arm across the crowded room until they stood in front of a short brunette who Dean thought was named Meg. Castiel wrapped his arm around Dean’s waist and squeezed him to his side.

“I told you!” he told Meg triumphantly. “I have a boyfriend!”

Meg looked Dean up and down incredulously. “You’re dating Dean Winchester?”

Starting to catch on, Dean put a possessive arm around Castiel’s shoulders. “Yeah, he is. Got a problem with that?”

Keep reading

I want to talk about this whole “punching nazis” thing, which I have been thinking about for some days.

To start, let me clarify that I have no moral or ethical qualms with Richard Spencer getting punched in the face on tv. I’d be happy to see it happen again.

But I do have a couple issues with much of the dialogue that has emerged in the wake of this event.

A lot of the people suddenly talking about nazis right now are people who didn’t seem to even realize they existed in this country prior to this election.

A lot of people seem to have gotten some strange ideas about how and where nazis are typically encountered, or who they actually are.

So, I’d like to talk about some of the times in my life when I’ve encountered nazis.

Before I do that, let’s try to establish a definition. There are a lot of different stripes of fascists and white supremacists out there, with varying agendas and varying degrees of organization. In the US we’ve got many types, ranging from the KKK and Aryan Nation to various unorganized skinhead rabble to the newish group calling itself the Alt Right. It seems easiest, at least for the sake of this argument, to lump those all together under one general “nazi” category. But does that really make sense? I’ll come back to that. But for now, in most of the examples I will describe below, these were people who openly called themselves such.

Also, I want to establish a bit about who I am. I don’t like to discuss any of these things publicly, but I also feel like I kind of have to, to explain where I am coming from. So: I am Jewish, I am bi, I am neurodivergent. Due to this last thing, I have certain issues navigating the physical world. I am physically fit but not athletic. I have very little self defense training. By occupation I am a musician.

And lastly I want to point out that these examples are from 15-20 years ago and describe some of my earliest encounters with these forces to provide context. And I’m going to start with some clear cut cases:

I first became aware of the existence of modern nazis my first year in high school. This was in the suburbs of San Francisco. I had a few friends who were into punk music and culture. I heard about “white power punks” and nazi skinheads who would sometimes show up at shows. When I started going out I would see them every once in a while. When I started going up to the city, at that time there were places that were absolutely notorious for nazi skinheads. I never interacted with them, I always steered clear of them, and never really fell in with the punk scene anyway. But that’s when I first became aware that there were people in modern America who called themselves nazis and directly advocated for white supremacy.

To be honest I did not think of myself as their “target” because (in my mind, at that time) Jewish culture in the SF Bay Area was practically invisible and unlikely to be on their radar. In fact I didn’t think too deeply about who their target was. I mostly thought they were crazy people who loved violence and called themselves “nazis” because it was the meanest thing they could think of, that they were in favor of “white power” because it was so obviously wrong. At this time, there was fair amount of tension in the state around the issue of immigration from Mexico. But it did not occur to me then that there could have been any relationship between the xenophobia I saw expressed by mainstream circles in conversations about Proposition 187 and the blatant, violent white supremacy expressed by the skinheads on the periphery of local punk scenes. (also please note that I am aware that not all skinheads are nazis and that there is an anti-racist element within skinhead culture as well)

In college, in Pittsburgh, I lived on a store with a convenience store on one end. One of the people who worked in this store was a skinhead who wore a jacket covered in various white power/“rock against communism” band logos. He had a group of similar buddies that often hung around nearby, a couple of whom had aryan nation tattoos. On several occasions when I woke up in the morning I would find leaflets distributed up and down the block decrying the Holocaust as a “Jewish scam to make money”. These flyers were attributed to Church of the Creator, one of the more active neo-nazi groups in Pennsylvania at that time. Every once in a while I would cautiously engage in arguments with some people on the fringes of that crew of guys who hung out in the area. Things were sometimes tense but never got physical. Soon after 9/11 most of them disappeared. I don’t know why or where to.

While traveling alone in Slovenia, I nearly ran into a parade of about 40 skinheads chanting and marching in the street while I was on the way back to where I was staying. I do not know what specific group they were affiliated with but wore patches with the common “celtic cross” symbol used by far right/white nationalist groups all over the world. At that time, fascist graffiti covered Ljubljana.

Those are just a few of the more blatant examples from that time. These experiences were not rare. The KKK and various neo-nazi groups held public parades and rallies all throughout this period, and sometimes showed up as counter protestors or forces of violence at protests for progressive causes. They marched through downtown Pittsburgh - with the local government’s blessing - and many other cities in that region.

There were protestors at those marches, and there were people who fought the nazis directly, but the general consensus in mainstream liberal circles at that time seemed to be that nazis had the right to march just like anyone else, that any violence against them would be bad. It certainly wasn’t at all common to hear college educated, NY Times-reading liberals talking about the glories of “punching nazis”. This is a problematic but very complicated phenomenon: they were to be tolerated up until the point at which they’ve come into power.

But let me explain why _I_ didn’t go around punching the nazis I saw, during those times when I encountered them personally. To some extent, part of me did follow that logic mentioned above, but that’s not the real reason. The real reason is pretty simple: most nazis are a lot better at fighting than I am, they do it more frequently, they usually travel in numbers, they are often armed, and in almost every circumstance when I’ve encountered them the odds would not have been remotely in my favor had things gotten physical.

Richard Spencer was alone and unarmed standing in front of a video camera busily talking about an internet meme while he was sucker punched. This occurred in broad daylight in a very crowded, open area with a ton of media and police present. While I applaud the anonymous puncher for seizing upon that opportunity, that’s not really a typical situation in which one encounters nazis.

Recently, Richard Spencer posted a video in reaction to this incident. In this video he mentions that the Alt Right will not succeed if they are unable to be who they are in public. I’ve seen a lot of people pointing to this video as a sign of victory over the Alt Right, a sign that they are scared. I think the latter half is true but not the former. What Spencer is saying is that they are going to ramp up security. And I would anticipate that these people will begin to receive even more protection from the current administration.

So, this is one conclusion I’d like to leave here - in most cases “punching nazis” means getting involved in serious physical violence in which your life will be at risk. And that risk is only going to increase in the future. Fantasizing about punching some idiot talking about a frog on tv is fun, but I think it ignores the realities that many have faced and many more are about to face. And while many of us have disabilities that hinder us in this department, I think it would behoove anyone who is serious about getting physical with fascists to study and learn how to do so before getting involved in a situation you are unprepared for. I would also think long and hard before making that demand of anyone else. But that’s not the most important point.

I’d like to circle back to talking about definitions. The examples I gave above are obvious. These were people who, in almost all cases, were openly wearing the actual logos of white supremacist organizations. So let me bring up a different example:

About one year after 9/11 I was in Budapest, taking an overnight train to Amsterdam. I had a spot in a sleeper compartment on a train. I got on and a couple other passengers came in. One of them was a young guy, a little older than me (I was in my early 20’s at this time). He spoke English very well and we got to talking. It turned out he was an Austrian who worked in finance. Middle management at a major bank. He bought us a couple of beers and we were getting along. Inevitably, the topic of 9/11 came up. Seemingly out of nowhere, he explains to me how “there were no Jews in the building that day”. He then goes on to explain how 9/11 and the entire War on Terror that was then unfolding was all a Jewish plot to direct money to Israel’s armed forces. And hinted that the Holocaust was a similar plot. I tried to argue with him for a bit (without letting on that I was Jewish) but it was nearly impossible to get through to him, and he soon became surly and then passed out. I tried to do the same. But what caught my attention was that this man was well spoken, dressed conservatively, he looked every bit the upper middle class finance professional. It was difficult to imagine him in a street fight. No one would have described this person as being on the fringes of his society.

Up until a year ago, if I told this story to a European, or to an American person of color, they were unsurprised. But if I told it to a white American their reaction would usually be “yeah, well, that’s Europe for you”.

But that’s never been the case.

One common narrative is that many of the groups of fascists have figured out that they aren’t going to get very far if they are seen just thugs who march around on the street wearing in leather jackets getting in scraps. many of them have figured this out some time ago, and have been infiltrating mainstream education and corporate life. And yes, that is happening.

But there is a big problem with that narrative: it ignores the fact that many of America’s institutions and businesses are, themselves, organizations that promote white supremacy. Many of our banks, many of our police departments, our prison system, much of our media. Does these mean they are all “nazis”? Not really. But what it does mean is that white supremacy is not some outside force that just suddenly popped out of Steve Bannon’s suitcase. It’s been here for a long time. It is deeply engrained in our society. Fascism is not some new danger that we suddenly need to prevent from being “normalized” - for much of America, fascism has been the norm for a very long time.

Here’s my point with all of this: sooner or later, Trump will be defeated. This regime is monstrous, but I have seen the power and anger and sheer volume of opposition to it, and I do not think that this regime will last. My worry is, once this most obvious of enemies is defeated, the liberal establishment will go right back to completely forgetting that white supremacy and fascism are a major problem in this country. The sad fact is, even when Democrats in power, even when the POTUS is the most progressive sounding person electable, the nazis are still here, white supremacy is still here, fascism is still here. And not always on “the other side”. We need to remember that, we need to keep pointing to them and ostracizing them and speaking out against white supremacy and fascism even when it looks like things are more comfortable, because that comfort is a trap.

“You seem very put together and secure in one self so I’m going to ask you this, and I would prefer it wasn’t publicly posted. Even if you don’t respond, that’s okay, but at this point I feel like I would appreciate a wiser person’s perspective. My boyfriend and I broke up, which may sound petty, but the shitty way I feel is not. It was because he was too overwhelmed to put effort into it. What would you suggest is the best way to move on from said breakup? HOW DO YOU PURGE YOURSELF OF EMOTION”

I asked this reader for permission to pull her question out of my askbox and answer it publicly because it seemed like it might be useful to more than one person considering becoming an emotional robot.

Dear Unnamed Reader,

First: you’re not going to like my advice.

Second: you don’t have to take it. I’m really only adequately equipped to give advice on how to be more like me, and trust me, sources are widely divided on whether this is a good thing. 

Third: I don’t think your turmoil is petty. One thousand ships have been launched in the name of a bad break-up.

Fourth: You ask me how to purge yourself of emotion. I reckon this must mean I don’t look like a hot mess on the internet, which is good to know. But I assure you that when something pings my emotional radar, I feel all feelings at level 11. Example? This morning, I gave Lover a ride to an errand. We took my old Camaro. On the interstate ramp, I put the car through its paces and experienced the burst of joy that comes in third gear at 4400 rpm. Once the car had settled, I realized Lover was staring at me. “God,” he said, “can you be any more happy?” No. No, in fact, I couldn’t. Emotions are binary in Maggie Stiefvater. You should have seen me when I first heard Two Door Cinema Club’s “Sun.” I almost died from happiness. 

But that also means my negative emotions are dialed to 11. I don’t often get upset — I’ve just become so unreasonably plucky that I assume all woes are transient, so whatevs. Because of my outsized belief in my ability to problem-solve, I really only get upset when I feel powerless. 2015 turned out to be the year of powerlessness: terrible things happening to friends, to my family, in the world. I finally broke last weekend over a comparatively tiny thing —a news article printed stuff about me that was so hilariously not true that I thought no one would believe it, particularly as the truth was still perfectly findable. But they did. And I couldn’t do a thing about it without stirring things up more and getting yet more messages telling me how glad they were to see me shot down from my Raven Cycle induced high blah blah etc. A minuscule thing — but yet more powerlessness after a year of epic powerlessness. I proceeded to launch 1,000 emotional ships. Work ground to a halt. I listened to Kygo’s remix of Matt Corby’s “Brother” 62 times in a row without pause. I sat under my office desk, only emerging to give in to to my OCD, which demanded, among other things, 17 clothing changes in 8 hours because SEAMS GOD THE SEAMS WHY. I blew a deadline. I flew to Colorado. I exceeded the speed limit in a rental Nissan that was not meant to exceed the speed limit. I blew another deadline. I paced until I couldn’t feel my knees. I thought about how I’d ruled out self-harm as an option a decade ago. I returned home. I sat on the shower floor for a very long time. I failed to sleep. I could have pretended that I wasn’t hurting, but — 

Fifth: you cannot cut out the sad emotions without cutting out the happy ones. 

Sixth: I am a disgustingly happy person. I fucking love life. The number of things in life that please me daily continues to astonish me, considering how terrible the world is. But I’m a happy person because I’m also sometimes a wretchedly sad person or terribly angry person. If you want to live life turned up all the way, you have to be open to the possibility of both joy or despair. 

Seventh: which brings me to the advice you’re not going to like: being miserable right now is not a bad thing. What you’re feeling is a valid response to a situation that you feel powerless in. It’s horrible. But you feeling genuine pain now means that you can — and will — feel genuine happiness at some point. Agony and joy come from the same place: being emotionally invested in your own life. 

Eighth: The way back to happiness is getting out of the cycle of powerlessness — basically, finding a place you can have agency again. Your misery is going to want you to find a way to be powerful in your current miserable situation. If you’re anything like me, you’ve rehearsed a few thousand options in your head. Calling him and winning him back. Making him feel as sad as you. Sending ugly greeting cards to his mother. Anything that would make you feel like you’re not completely helpless. But you need to find something else that you can be the boss of. Remind yourself of the things that make you feel like a badass. It doesn’t matter how silly or stupid they are. It can be as difficult as a project that you think will change the world, or as easy as playing a song that always gets you high. Do that.

Ninth: Do not listen to Kygo’s remix of “Brother.” It will not cheer you up.

Tenth: There is no tenth, but I really wanted one. So eat more leafy green vegetables.

urs,

Stiefvater


ETA I CHANGED IT TO 2015 I DON’T KNOW WHY I KEEP CALLING THIS YEAR 2016

Unlike Him

With your brother Archie and dad out of the house, you invite over Jughead. Quickly you let out your feelings for him, which leads to sex. But afterwards it seems that Jughead had changed his mind. In the following weeks you realize something, something that may change both of your lives.

Part 2

Part 3

Warning: Smut

This is my first Riverdale imagine. Sorry if it’s bad I haven’t written in a long time. Let me know if you guys like it and if you want a part 2!

______________________________________________________________

With the recent murders in my hometown of Riverdale I felt uncomfortable as I tried falling asleep with my brother, Archie, and dad gone, visiting my mom in Chicago (a trip with I happily opted out of).  So I called the only person I knew who would make me feel safe.

  Soon enough I heard a knock on the front door. Running down stairs, I opened up the door to Jughead. Pulling him into a hug, I thanked him for coming. We made our way up to my bedroom, both laying down on the bed, turning on the TV, to see what was on.

    After a while of trying to find something good on TV, I moved from my position with my head on Jugheads chest to siting up.

  “I am so bored,” I whined to him. “There is nothing on this stupid TV and there’s nothing to do.”

Jughead laughed, “Of course there isn’t, it’s 1 am.”

With that I let out a sigh, dramatically falling onto Jugheads, still laying body.  Finally an idea came to me. This might just be the perfect time to make my move. The move where I finally let Jughead know I’ve had a crush on him since the 3rd grade, when he told me I could play with Archie and him, even though Archie tried kicking me out… my knight in shining armor.  I tried getting over it, I really did. He was my brother’s best friend, and a matter of fact my best friend too, I couldn’t ruin I and make everything awkward. I made myself do all the things to try to get as far away from him as possible; I even went as far as to join the River Vixens Freshman year. But I guess it was hopeless. I could barely keep my eyes off him tonight, due to his shirtless body, his excuse being that it was “too hot”.  I just wanted to pounce.  

  I finally realized Jughead had been trying to get my attention, but I had just been staring of into space. Well I needed to tell him, I decided. However, I had my fingers crossed that he felt the same way.  

Still on top of him, I sat up, making it so that I was straddling him, then I began to speak, “Jughead, I, uh, I need to tell you something. Just let me talk and then you can tell me how you feel. I- I’ve been in love you since the 3rd grade. I’ve tried to push these feelings down, I really have, but I just can’t. I just couldn’t keep this from you any longer. I completely understand if you don’t feel that way. Just tell me and I’ll never mention it to you again. I-,” suddenly you were cut off.

Jughead had leaned up and kissed me. I basked in the feeling of his warm lips on mine, however it did not last as long as I would have liked.

“That’s a yes, I like you too,” he responded.

Smiling we kissed again, with Jughead suddenly flipping us over, making it so he was on top.  After that he put his hands on my waist, slowly raising them under my shirt, as mine made their way to his neck. Our kiss became more intense, our lips battling one another over dominance, but I already knew it was a losing battle. His lips slowing moved to my neck, sucking on it, leaving what I am sure would be clearly visible hickeys. Once he reached a certain spot, I couldn’t hold in the noises anymore, letting out a moan. I could feel Jughead smirking against my skin, and it seemed my noises pushed him further and he quickly, separated himself to take my shirt off, thankfully he was already shirtless.

As we began to kiss again, I realized that even though this was slightly awkward, Jughead clearly knew what he was doing and ourbodys seemed to fit perfectly together. I could feel his hard on against your leg growing, which just made me want him more, causing to begin to grind up into him, causing him to let a barely there moan. Quickly he began to take off my bra, and move his lips down to my nipples. He focus on sucking the right when, as his hand moved to the other. He made quick work of going back and forth until finally he seemed to have enough. Separating himself from me he began to talk of my pants, and I started to undo his belt buckle. He made quick work of my pants, standing up and pulling the all the way off my legs, along with my panties. Quickly doing the same to his jeans and boxers afterwards.

  Lying back on top of me, he began to kiss me again. Slowly his hands worked their way down my body. Once he reached my core he looked up into my eyes checking to see if I was okay with this. I quickly nodded; I was dying to feel something. Slowly he began to put one, then two in, moving the slowly in and out. I could tell he was teasing me, from the smug grin on his face, listening to my desperate moans.

Finally having enough of his teasing I begged him, “Please, faster.”

  Thankfully, having mercy on me he began to speed up. Keeping up the pace, I started getting close to my orgasm, but suddenly he stop. Despite my anger of not being allowed to cum, I knew what he was going to do which made it all better.

  Jughead looked up at me, while he lined himself up to my core and slowly began to push in. God, was he big, I wasn’t a virgin, but I had definitely never been with a guy who had as much as he did, causing it to slightly hurt as he pushed himself in. I grabbed onto his biceps, digging crevices with my nails as he finally was all the way in. After a second he slowly began moving in and out, creating a natural rhythm.

I could see he was restraining himself from going as fast as he wanted to, just so he could make sure I was comfortable first, “It’s ok, you can go faster.”

After my words he became ramping up his pace. As he began to hit just the spot I cried out, moving my hands to his scratch his back. He clearly got the message, he just that place as fast and hard as he could. He wanted to make sure I came before he did, so he moved his hand down to by clit, quickly rubbing it.

Before I knew it I was there, moaning out his name. A seconds after I came, he also did too.  As he pulled out, he rolled off, pulling me into his arms. It was already late, and with such a workout, we both quickly feel asleep.

I awoke to Jughead, getting out of bed and beginning to get dressed. I looked at my clock seeing that it was only 4 am, I wondered where he was going.

Sitting up I asked, “Leaving so soon, where are you going? It’s still dark out.”

  I seemed to have surprised him and he quickly turned to me, with a look on his face I couldn’t quite make out.

“I, um, I need to leave. Us… This was a mistake, it never should have happened. I’m sorry,” he quickly spoke, trying to avoid looking in my eyes.

Tears started coming to my eyes. How could he say that? I thought he felt the same way. This was Jughead, were talking about, he wasn’t one ot say something then take it back.

“Th-that’s not true. You said you liked me too,” I began.

“Yes it is, I completely regret this happening. Now I have to go. I’ll see you at school or something” he said and with that he was out the door.

How could this happen? I quickly called the only 2 people I could think of.

Soon enough Betty and Veronica arrived. I quickly told them what had happened through my tears. Veronica, being who she is threatened to make him regret every being born, making me laugh. For the rest of that night that was there goal, making me laugh and realize I am better without him.

At lunch a few weeks later, Veronica, Betty, Kevin, and me were all sitting outside the school at our usually picnic table. We had been talking about boys again. So of course Jughead came up. We were all still baffled by the fact that he acted the way he did.

“Well at least he wore a condom, so you can’t have his evil demon spawn,” Kevin said trying to lighten to mood.

Everyone burst out laughing, except for me. He did wear a condom… didn’t he?  I tried thinking back to that night. I quickly realized that I had no condoms, in my room and unless Jughead was just carrying one around with him, it meant that he hadn’t worn one. As soon as that realization came to me, I quickly sat up beginning to sprint into the school, running past both my brother and Jughead, who were headed to the table.

At the table everyone looked around, with Kevin saying, “I thought it was funny, I wasn’t trying to hurt her feeling.”

Quickly the two girls thought about it and realized there was a reason I was running, and it wasn’t because Kevin hurt my feeling. Suddenly they jumped up too, running after me.

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My Masterlist

the blazing bombardier.

Idk, this is just a summery fluffball of a Sterek getting-together drabble because I’m tired of winter. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Derek fundamentally doesn’t understand people who like roller coasters.

He knows such people exist because he’s been standing in line with them for the Blazing Bombardier for half an hour now, but even when he’s looking right at them, it’s hard to believe. Seriously, why. The list of things to do on a Saturday afternoon that don’t involve screaming and trying not to hurl is literally infinite. He could be lounging around in his pjs in his dorm right now and rereading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, just for example. Or working out, or going for a drive to the beach, or watching a movie with Boyd and Erica. (Boyd and Erica are officially his favorite people right now because, unlike his sisters, they understand the basic concept that friends don’t make their friends who lose bets ride the most terrifying invention since clown costumes.)

The line moves forward, and oh god, now Derek can actually see the loading station. The seats are wicked-looking hanging harnesses painted to look like flames. He’s going to be sick before he even sits down in the thing.

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anonymous asked:

When do you think Bellamy started to develop feelings for Clarke and vise-versa? I'm re-watching the series and I am on season 1, I'm noticing things I didn't notice before, like Bellamy staring at Clarke for a little longer than necessary (for ex. 1x11). I just wanted to get your perspective on it, thanks Rosy!

Originally posted by iconicbellarke

I think Bellamy’s feelings for Clarke came on really slowly. It started with intrigue when she challenged him to go find Jasper. Respect when she killed Atom. I think his first inkling that he had romantic feelings for her was in Day Trip. He was attracted to her, and he felt an emotional pull, but it was a crush and he decided their partnership was too important and pulled away. I think he was a little jealous when he thought she went off with Finn, but again pushed it away. 

It wasn’t until they reunited in season 2, she ran into his arms, and then he sat and watched her sleeping by the first that he started to realize his feelings for her went deeper than just colleague or even friend, let alone the attraction that he tries to avoid. He knew she was IMPORTANT to him. Maybe the only other person besides Octavia that he needed. His protectiveness after that moment was certainly ramped up, but it was placed kind of in the “protetector” category. He makes himself her knight. The “I can’t lose you too” moment was a shock to him because it was more meaningful than protector, but it lead pretty quickly into “It’s worth the risk,” so he goes back to being the soldier and puts feelings for Clarke out of his mind. 

Until he pulls the lever for her (which he knew would destroy her) and she leaves him. I don’t think he knew what he felt for her at that moment other than heartbroken, but he moved on after three months. But he never forgot about her. He was obsessed with her while she was gone, and it did interfere in his relationship with Gina because he just wasn’t all present. When he got word of her, he would stop at nothing to find her. He knew he couldn’t lose her, but I don’t think he knew he was in love with her until the argument in Hakeldama when he connected his hurt at being abandoned with his need to keep her safe and their physical prroximity and he all of a sudden realized he was in love with her. I actually think that contributed to his moment of panic where he handcuffed her. Because he regressed to his need to keep his loved one under lock and key. After that moment, he changes in his behavior towards Clarke.

Originally posted by prettylitteteengirl

I think Clarke developed feelings for Bellamy differently. Both more slowly and more quickly. I think she thought he was attractive right away, and if Finn hadn’t pursued her might have gone in that direction, because she quickly got past his asshole persona. BUT I think that attraction was merely physical. Clarke has an easy sexuality. It could have been just a thing. She started to like him more as time went on, as a person, to respect him. To connect with him, like in Day Trip, and she definitely would have pursued something physical with him, whether it was wise or not, in Unity Days, but Bellamy, who had already decided it wasn’t wise, steered away from that. He saw it, but didn’t pursue it. They shifted their relationship to partnership. And then when she was in MW, I don’t think she realized that the reason she was fixated on getting out of the mountain was because of Finn and Bellamy– Bellamy linked with a canon romantic partner in her brain. And when she ran into his arms, I don’t think she thought at all about how or why her feelings were so strong for him. She knew she couldn’t lose him. She knew she had feelings of love for him, enough so that she looked at him as a chink in her armor and a weakness, and sent him into the mountain.

THAT’S when it started to hit her what all that meant. When she lost him again. Only this time she saw it as her fault and she was aware that her feelings for Bellamy were verging on romantic. From when she first heard his voice on the radio and she had hope again, to when she sacrificed TonDC to keep him alive, she began to realize that not only did she care for Bellamy as one of her people but as someone she was in love with. By the end of her time with Lxa, who picked Bellamy out as someone special to Clarke, a time that was almost entirely focused on Clarke’s faith in Bellamy, her need to keep him safe, his importance to EVERYTHING, we see a Clarke who, when confronted with a beautiful woman who wants her, says “I’m not ready for a relationship… with anyone.” She has recognized that she loves Bellamy– in fact the very next line is “he did it” as Bellamy’s flare goes up to signal that the acid fog is down– but she’s also recognized that she can’t go there. 

This is borne out the next time they meet. She’s been focused on his safety the entire time he was in there, but when he opens that door, she does not run into his arms in relief like in camp jaha, or hug him like she does Monty and Jasper, no. She stands apart and STARES. Because she is not ready for anything and hugging him would be more than she can handle. THEN he pulls the lever with her. And she can’t deal and leaves. Their parting is VERY significant. She kisses him but leaves him anyway, and spends the next three months thinking about how he wouldn’t let her do it alone. THAT is who she immediately called upon when she wanted him back, the man who was WITH her. But in Hakeldama, Bellamy rejects her, and drags up all her most hated flaws and does NOT forgive her. She thinks he hates her and she returns to Polis and turns to the beautiful woman who wants her. But she learns that she can’t run away from herself and returns to the Delinquents, with her traumas and her lessons, and works on regaining her relationship with Bellamy. She works on it quite hard. On being who she needs to be FOR HIM. 

So to clarify, Clarke realized she was in love with Bellamy when he was in the Mountain. And Bellamy realized he was in love with Clarke when she came back to try and get him to side with Lxa in Hakeldama. Which was an unfortunate moment for realization, because her goals and his put them on opposite sides of a war. Madness ensues. 

Originally posted by sarahkheathisapenguin

Also to clarify. They both love each other, but neither of them believes that the other loves them. Bellamy has rejected Clarke’s advances a couple of times, and now she’s betrayed him again, so she has no reason to believe he doesn’t hate her. And Bellamy has seen that Clarke loved someone else. Not him. Not to mention she’s with Niylah, so clearly he would think she didn’t feel the same way as him. So. They’re both wrong. But hey, everyone needs some obstacles and angst in a love story. And, oh yeah, an apocalypse.

fic: Of Sunsets and Swings

title: of sunsets and swings

genre: reality/tiniest bit of angst if you squint

word count: 2300

description: a little getaway cements an idea they’ve had for a while now and brings a sense of relief they never expected to feel. (ft. mother lester, some jetlag and a couple of swings)

“I find some irony in being in a kid’s park while we make this very grown-up decision.”

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anonymous asked:

Can you do pynch for the ship thing please <3

YOU BET YOUR SWEET ASS I CAN 

(god FINALLY)

SEND ME A SHIP AND I’LL TELL YOU…

who is more likely to hurt the other?

I mean. Adam doesn’t usually get hurt by ronan so much as he gets annoyed. disappointed. pissed. He never lets ronan’s venom actually get to his veins, he’s too busy telling him how unnecessary the flash of fang is. ronan on the other hand. like. he’s easy to hurt. adam would never in his life want to hurt ronan (it’s his honest to god nightmare) but I think ronan works himself into such a despair at the smallest jealousies and perceived injustices that adam could make one careless comment and ronan would fixate on it

who is emotionally stronger?

ohhhh adam. it’s adam. He’s been dragging so much emotional rubble for so long that he’s built up a tolerance. strong is like The Most adam adjective that I can think of. ronan never had to get to adam’s level of detachment and dissociation bc the first 15 years of his life were gorgeous and easy, and he’s still growing into his protective shell. Adam had to be born in his

who is physically stronger?

it’s ronan tbH he has the upper body strength of a boxer and the broad shoulders of a lynch (but also adam has clever hands and muscular thighs from years of biking everywhere and he can handle himself)

who is more likely to break a bone? 

ouch. They’re both capital R Reckless when they’re together and they have some brutal years under their belts. adam has some poorly set knobbly fingers and ronan has an old snapped clavicle that took forever to heal and constantly bruised knuckles so like. idk. In the future, when adam parrish has escaped from his childhood prison, I’d like to think that they both get ugly minor injuries from doing joyful ramp and dolly and shopping cart type activities only

who knows best what to say to upset the other? 

surprisingly difficult question to answer bc I mean. It’s ronan. but is it? he systematically winds people up and adam is so deeply irritated by him that he straight up walks away, but also adam can be ice cold?? it’s so easy to get to ronan. They both fumble and call each other mean names when they want to compliment each other it’s a big mess

who is most likely to apologize first after an argument? 

holy shit would you believe neither??? the most stubborn humans on this earth!! record holders!! we got some emotional repression folks! hooooo boy

adam never starts arguments for no reason so he’s always thinking it through and coming to the conclusion that he’s in the right?? surprise he ain’t apologizing

meanwhile ronan can’t stop being cruel even though he knows it’s hurting people, it’s this vicious self-protective instinct that hurts so good and so wrong. and then his pride gets in the way once he’s cooled down. but he will come to st agnes on his knees and grab adam’s hand and try to make it clear that he’d step on his own pride on the way to adam’s door

who treats who’s wounds more often? 

sad & unfortunate :(( adam treats ronan’s solely bc ronan doesn’t know how the fuck to treat an injury and also ‘none of them wanted to hurt adam parrish’, so ronan’s got his stupid pointless anger related scrapes and adam’s got his anti-bacterial gel and they are a dream team

who is in constant need of comfort? 

neither of them come out on top here man. They’ve had some shared harrowing experiences, and some separate trauma that they’re trying to tell each other about (if their stories could just stop. sticking. when they try to say them out loud). in v different ways, neither of their families are families. Ronan doesn’t let himself fall asleep, and he doesn’t let himself go through things, and the repression starts to calcify into cruelty like it did right after his father died. adam can’t stop thinking about gansey on the roadside, and he can’t be touched some days, most days. he can’t stop swimming or he’ll die. He can’t keep swimming or he’ll die. The gangsey is a critical support system made of so many weak beams

who gets more jealous? 

are u fucking serious,,, it’s both of them pal. remember when every combination of his friends that didn’t include him made adam like. sick with jealousy. remember when ronan saw gansey talking on the phone with adam and wanted to put his hand through a wall. or when adam brought blue along on their quest and he spouted nasty shit the whole day. they both deeply want each others attention and they don’t seem to realize that they already have it? always?

who’s most likely to walk out on the other? 

ohh god. oh man. oh boy. Here’s the thing. adam’s gonna walk away from ronan, but he’s not gonna walk OUT on him. he’s going to walk away because he’s not on a leash, he’s gonna spread those beautiful fucking self-made wings. And ronan is too!! in his own time he’s gonna build his own spaces that aren’t the barns and he’s going to realize what home means to him and they’re both gonna walk out the door and back but never close it behind them

who will propose? 

a controversial topic! I’m on team adam for this one pals. I was on team ‘adam’s gonna kiss ronan first’ for a while before trk like a FOOL and I realized the error of my ways bc ronan is physical as fuck! and a risk-taker! of course he kissed adam smh. But a proposal? That’s a contract. That’s a speech. That’s a chess move. Ronan wouldn’t corner adam like that. Adam knows how ronan feels and more importantly he knows how HE feels himself, and I think one day ten years into their relationship the practicalities are gonna beckon and he’s gonna look ronan in the back of the head while he’s sleeping and roll over into the curve of his spine and tell him he wants a ring on his finger 

who has the most difficult parents?

omg… fuck off

who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public? 

tactile bastards! both of them! ronan especially wants adam’s hands…., any which way he can get them. I mean. He will kiss adam’s hands when they’re at dinner at nino’s and he’ll hook their fingers together even for the 20 second walk from the BMW to monmouth’s front door like he LIVES FOR IT (adam feels nervy and exhilarated every time it’s gay)

who comes up for the other all the time? 

i mean they’re always together so they don’t really bring each other up. if they’re not together they’re with gansey/blue/henry or even fox way babes/vancouver crowd etc and those ppl get real tired of it real quick. adam usually keeps his ronan related musings to himself though like he has self-control unlike… R.N.L. himself

who hogs the blankets? 

ronan does tbh adam has never hogged anything in his life and ronan is a shit

who gets more sad? 

an unfair Q, man. They’ve both had a super rough time, especially right post-trk?? those few months are hard. Ronan cries a lot. Adam gets numb and far away a lot. They have a lot to be sad about. (But more to be happy about. They made it. They honestly just stare at each other and laugh breathlessly and touch foreheads and hands and scars and can’t believe their luck)

who is better at cheering the other up? 

I sorta said this with ronsey but I think ronan is THE BEST at doing dumb shit to take his mind off of things. Like all that stuff about making adam quiet and turning off the lists and anxieties in his head so that they can do smth mindless and dangerous? yeah that. memes and songs and poor decisions. depression whom?

who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?

this never happens wtf they’re not really ‘playful slappers’ HOWEVER adam will glare at ronan so hard that it probably feels like a slap

who is more streetwise?

it reeeeally depends on your definition of streetwise?? Like if we’re talking survival it’s unquestionably adam. He can fix your car and bandage your wounds and figure out your taxes and make himself invisible and blend his accent into whoever’s around him. He’s wicked sharp and fast on his feet. But i mean. he can’t quite drive stick. and he wouldn’t be caught dead in the sort of underground that ronan ends up in. ronan is streetwise in terms of the actual street, and he knows the most brutal avenues a person can end up on, the real life nightmares that feel closest to the ones in his head. Ronan is smart enough to navigate the chaos, but adam is smart enough to avoid it altogether

who is more wise?

adam. easily. ronan is intelligent and instinctive and talented (or adam wouldn’t get him as well as he does) but adam is a genius and that look behind his eyes….. he’s lived about 1 billion times more than he should’ve by age 19

who’s the shyest? 

neither of them are shy exactly they’re just buried under 9 surface level personalities that you have to crack open with your bare fuckin hands

but if you met either of them in the hallowed halls of aglionby you would think adam was shy and ronan was a rampant fuckwad so based on appearance?? adam. he keeps his head down.

who boasts about the other more? 

as soon as adam is officially his bf ronan takes a ten year long victory lap he’s so embarrassing

who sits on who’s lap?

y’all. we all know ronan sits in adam’s. it’s a fact of life. he probably had a sexy dream about it when he was 17 and took his morning shower in holy water

The Devil’s Doughnut

Carson cursed loudly as he pulled off the exit ramp to his work. It was his turn to bring breakfast for the office and he hadn’t remembered until waking up this morning. The dilemma Carson was facing was twofold: he was in direct competition for a promotion at work with Jenny and he feared she may be pulling ahead. Last week, she had brought in homemade quiche, though Carson raised an eyebrow as to the authenticity of the homemade portion of her claims. The quiche tasted suspiciously similar to the ones made at a downtown bistro their boss had previously deemed his favorite restaurant in town. Hack or not, Jenny had been praised throughout the week for her baking skills and now Carson found himself frantically wracking his brain for an immediate solution to office breakfast.

His car slowed as he passed the sign for “Devil’s Doughnuts” and after lingering long enough that a car behind him honked, Carson pulled into the parking lot.  His boss had been on a health craze lately. Though probably laying the foundation for a Human Resources nightmare, Carson’s boss had been chiding employees who were seen eating unhealthier options for their lunch. Carson had the benefit of a fast metabolism and a general apathy towards food. Eating was something that merely fueled his body from Point A to Point B. His slim frame was testament to that. Once Carson took note of his boss’ behavior towards the chips and burger crowd, he made a show of producing salads and crudités for lunch.  Earning a pat on the back and praising of his general trimness, Carson felt his chances of a promotion grow exponentially.

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Apologies

Note: You are the kindest First Order General that Kylo has ever known. But when he tells you this, he doesn’t quite expect for you to react so negatively. In an effort to earn your forgiveness and demonstrate his love for you, you soon learn that Kylo will go to great lengths.

Requested by: Anon.

Originally posted by augustren

“It’s amazing how much you endure for me,” Kylo whispered as he ran his fingers gently down your cheek.

You were both lying on the bed in your shared quarters. After having had a particularly trying day, you were ready to go to sleep the moment you laid on the bed. Though Kylo was a light sleeper, he was always willing to lie with you until you fell asleep.

So in that moment, with your eyes half closed as sleep was beginning to wash over you, Kylo’s comment quickly sent your head snapping up into his direction.

“What do you mean?”

With his helmet resting on the nightstand, you could see him furrow his eyebrows, “You put up with so much on a daily basis. And we both know that you do it for me.”

You raised an eyebrow, “I’m a high ranking First Order general, Kylo,” you said pointedly, “I think my job requires me to put up with a lot regardless.”

“No, no,” Kylo said quickly, “I mean this entire thing. You even being a General. Let’s be honest, you’re hardly First Order material.”

You shot up immediately, clutching to the blanket as you looked down at him, “Why would you say something like that?”

Kylo looked taken aback by your reaction, “I-I didn’t meant to offend you, love, I meant it as a compliment. You don’t belong here!” He said in a flurry of words, suddenly realising what he had just said didn’t sound any better.

You scoffed and Kylo reached out to you, “That came out wrong, Y/N. I mean you don’t belong here because you deserve so much more.”

You rolled your eyes, “Thanks.”

“You’re unlike anyone else on this entire base, Y/N. You’re kind-hearted, you’re caring… and you’re not afraid of me,” he added, trying to lighten your expression. But you remained scowling, “Sometimes it seems as though the only reason you put up with working here is me. Like you’re wasting your potential here just for me.”

“So you think I’m a waste of potential? Lovely,” you said, getting out of the bed. You didn’t know why this bothered you so much, but it just did.

Kylo had found you on your home planet, tattered and lost. Like you didn’t know where in the Galaxy you belonged. Though it was true your personality might not have been the very best for First Order, Kylo had given you a home and work that had stability, and that was important to you. He knew that too, and after all you had been through, you couldn’t believe he would actually think of taking that away.

“Where are you going?” Kylo frowned.

“Well clearly I don’t belong here,” you muttered.

“Y/N,” Kylo sighed, “You’re taking this the wrong way, just wait–”

But you didn’t want to hear it. You opened the blast doors hastily before storming out.

“These came for you, General L/N… Uh, again,” the Storm Trooper awkwardly set a bouquet of roses down on your desk.

You thanked and dismissed him before placing the flowers onto the shelf, joining the three other bouquets that had now found a home there.

You caught a brief glance of the note before you shelved it. My darling Y/N, I am so sorry.“

It had been four days since your argument, and Kylo had sent you flowers on every one of them. The morning after the argument, he had to leave for a diplomatic mission. But he didn’t want to leave his presence unforgotten.

You didn’t even know where Kylo could’ve gotten these roses from. They certainly didn’t grow on Starkiller Base. You laughed slightly at the thought of him ordering someone to fetch him flowers from a distant planet. Just the thought of him showing such outward affection was so odd.

In truth, you had forgiven him a few moments after you had stormed out of your bedroom. You realised that you might have overacted, especially when Kylo had meant no harm by his words.

But since he was away on a mission, you were using this time apart to your advantage. You hadn’t spoken to him since he left. No twice daily check-ins as was the usual when either of you were away. When the first bouquet of roses had arrived, you became curious to know how far he would go to show he was sorry.

You know it sounded terrible, but it had become so much fun. Besides, Kylo would back in a few days and you would talk it over with him then. This was harmless.

"General?” A knock at the door suddenly caught your attention.

“Come in,” you said as you watched the same Storm Trooper enter.

“General L/N, Captain Phasma ordered me to inform you that a Shuttle will be leaving in half an hour.”

“…And?”

“And she has requested you join her in the Hangar before then to give you enough time to board,” he finished.

You frowned, “To board? I have no trips scheduled in my itinerary.”

The room fell quiet as the Storm Trooper was at a loss for what to say to you. You smiled briefly, “That’ll be all thank you.”

Half an hour passed quickly and you soon found yourself sitting beside Phasma on board a First Order starship heading to only Maker knew where.

“Any idea what this is all about?” You asked, curious but also trying to start a conversation with the otherwise quiet Captain.

“All I know is that Commander Ren wanted me to escort you to this planet.”

“What planet?”

“I don’t know that it’s even been named,” she huffed, “From what I’ve heard it’s beautiful, but it’s entirely uninhabited.”

“Sounds like the perfect place to kill us both without anyone seeing,” you remarked, letting out a laugh.

“Perhaps not me, but we both know the Commander wouldn’t even think about harming you.”

You smiled, humming in agreement. So what was this all about?

When you landed and descended down the ramp, you couldn’t help but gasp at the sheer beauty of the planet.

It was sunset, and the green field that you had landed in was adorned with what looked like a million different flowers. Your eyes lit up at the sight of roses growing in front of you.

In the distance stood Kylo, two Storm Troopers standing on either side of him.

You went towards him, and soon as you were close enough, he dismissed his men and removed his helmet.

“Y/N?” He wasn’t surprised, rather he sounded cautious about how best to approach you.

“Hello, Kylo.”

“Did you… get the– the roses that I sent?”

“All four bouquets,” you responded nonchalantly. You almost felt bad for toying with him now.

He nodded, “I had them sent from this planet.”

“Where are we anyway?”

“This planet belongs to a region the First Order has just acquired. I was sent to confirm that the planet is uninhabited.”

“It’s too pretty for no one to live on it,” you observed.

Kylo’s expression lit up at that, “Do you like the planet?”

You nodded in response.

“Then it’s yours.”

You scoffed, “What do you mean it’s mine?”

“I’m giving it to you. As a reminder of how much I love you,” Kylo started, being particularly careful with how he spoke, “Not that I’m saying your love can be bought…” The last thing he needed was for you to get angry again.

You could tell he wasn’t finished, so you waited expectantly for him to continue.

“Look, I was wrong, Y/N. You do belong in the First Order, and I should never have told you otherwise. I’m so sorry, love.” The desperation in his voice told you that he needed you to forgive him.

Little did he know, you already had. “It’s fine– I think I agree with you anyway.”

Kylo frowned, “You don’t feel like you belong?” He hated the thought of you believing you had no place in the First Order, especially if it was him who had placed such ideas in your mind.

You shook your head, “Maybe I don’t belong in the First Order. Maybe, I am too… kind-hearted, as you put it. But it’s that part of me that couldn’t stay angry at you for longer than ten minutes,” you admitted.

“You know I didn’t mean for you to take offence to what I said, Y/N, I–”

“Let me finish,” you stopped him, taking your hand in his to let you know everything was alright, “Maybe being a First Order General isn’t for me. But then again, I’m not sure of anywhere I would rather be. Because living and working on Starkiller Base has taught me something important.”

“And what’s that?”

“It doesn’t matter where I am in the entire Galaxy, Kylo. If you are by my side, I’ll know that it’s where I belong.”

His eyes lit up at your words, instant relief washing over him as he embraced you.

“Then I promise to never stop making you feel like you belong, my darling.”

“And I promise not to storm off on you like that again,” you laughed, “Although… having you think I’m mad at you does seem to have it’s benefits. After all, I could get used to four bouquets and an entire planet to tell me your sorry,” you teased him.

“Well clearly my words aren’t the best way to tell you how I feel about you,” Kylo chuckled, “Maybe I’m just better at showing it. I never want you to feel out of place, not even for a minute. I would do anything to prove to you how much I love and care about you, Y/N. You know that, don’t you?”

“Hmm, well I do now,” you smiled, reaching up to press your lips to his.

hamelin-born  asked:

Omega!Hux and Alpha!Kylo had a meaningless one-night stand years ago - back when they were Lieutenant Hux and Apprentice Ren. They never even exchanged names. Years later, when Kylo Ren comes on board the Finalizer, he meets Hux's child - who is exactly the right age, has all-too-familiar eyes, and a Force Presence that /burns/ like the rising sun.

Kylo has never met an omega before.

He’s been told that they smell divine; like the most forbidden of fruits, where biting into one would mean eternal damnation of the soul for giving in to such a tempting creature. Their very skin is meant to glisten with lusts and wants, their needy heats setting them apart from the rest of the galaxy. They’re rare, craved by alphas and envied by betas. A true prize, worthy of a budding knight like Kylo Ren.

Mating has never been high on Kylo’s list, not even when he presented as an alpha when he was in his late teens. Alas, he finds that, on this night in a tacky bar in a dusty town, Kylo’s needs have gotten the better of him.

He moans, delving back in for another kiss off the pretty redhead he’d managed to pique the interest of at the bar before he’d offered to serve him drinks back at his accommodation. Kylo had smugly accepted. After only a few shots and cocktails, Kylo has the redhead pushed back against the nearest wall, consuming his lips in a desperate kiss.

“You’re beautiful,” Kylo whispers, tasting the remnants of their last fruity shot on his partner’s lips.

“So I’ve been told,” the redhead replies, pushing Kylo away from him for a moment.

Kylo watches eagerly as the other begins to strip, his nimble fingers unfastening the button of the high collar of his jacket before shedding it.

And it’s then that Kylo smells it.

“You—you’re an omega,” Kylo gasps, taking in the seemingly glowing form of the other, lapping up every inch of his pale skin.

“Aren’t you lucky,” the omega says, sauntering forwards, making sure every twisting movement is exaggerating the curves of his body; the sharpness of his hips, the plumpness of his ass, the perkiness of his nipples. “A night with an omega.”

The omega is suddenly upon him, chest pressed against the front of Kylo’s dark robes, his hand rubbing the front of the alpha’s pants. Kylo gasps, growling, before hoisting the omega up until his long legs are wrapped around Kylo’s hips and they’re back against the wall, kissing as though their lives depend on it. Unable to help himself, Kylo buries his nose in the omega’s neck, and feels as though he’s elated.

The omega already smells of sex, as though heat is radiating from his skin, but there’s a uniqueness to his scent that Kylo has never sensed before among anyone. Kylo picks up the scent of ash, as though the fire isn’t just in the omega’s hair colour but in his heart too, flickering away, threatening to burn anyone who comes too close. But underneath the threatening layers of heat and fire, the omega smells sweet; like a freshly baked pastry drizzled with a fruity syrup and covered in sugar, just begging to be liked before being devoured by its hungry customer.

Kylo drools.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Kylo growls, feeling the omega shiver in his hold. “I want to see beneath your beautiful.”

Yes, alpha,” the omega whines, craning his neck upwards to allow Kylo better access to the hot underside of his jaw. “Please. Fuck me.”

Lost to the intoxicating magnetism of the omega in front of him, Kylo doesn’t bother to ask the omega for his name. It’s a fling, a quick fix for the needs of his inner alpha. It’s the best fuck he’s ever had, but it means nothing.

In the morning, Kylo dresses and leaves before the omega has a chance to wake up, feeling that his sexual urges have been satisfied but there remains a coldness in his chest as he walks towards the door, his heart even jumping when he hears the omega whine softly in his sleep.

But regardless, Kylo leaves, returning to his shuttle and leaving the town before the planet’s sun has risen.

What has happened is irrelevant, and Kylo knows he’ll never see the omega again.

Whether he’s content with that is another matter entirely, and one that he quickly pushes to the back of his mind before he returns to Master Snoke.

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Accident

Seth Rollins/OC: Accidents happen. Sometimes happy accidents, sometimes not so happy accidents, with a surprise or two thrown in. Angst.

This was originally written for Valentine’s Day, but, uh. Obviously didn’t get posted. So here. Have it today lmao.

Tagging my sweet lil nuggets: @lavitabella87 @omgmissmillie @screamersdontdance @everybodyfinnfreeze @shadow-of-wonder @laochbaineann @justtookawaii @sarrahcha @twiistedbliiss @hotspurmadridista @niazha16 @happelu970 @officialbroski10-blog @crowleysqueenofhell @lilmisscrisis @antigonemaia @littledeadrottinghood @imagineall-the-fandoms @hiitsmecharlie @macfizzle @bizclizbaybay @oraclegazes @culturalrebel @actualamyautopsy @wrasslesmut @meaganottiz02 @karaboomhower @valeonmars @squirrel666 @livingthestrongstyle @damnbuvky @dmm-wts @caramara3 @abbie03d @roserae527 @superrezzy00 

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Mission Gone Wrong

Originally posted by despairingfever

Summary: After returning from a particularly difficult mission, you don’t want anything to do with anybody. Guilt is eating away at you and you’re finally forced to open up to your friend, Cassian.

Author’s Note: This has been stuck in my head for what feels like forever! It is my first Star Wars fic, so I hope it’s okay. I just love Cassian so much and I loved writing him. I’ve had a lot going on in my life, and I think this piece is really a reflection of that. It is angsty as all get out, so beware. Please let me know what you think!!! Enjoy :)

Warnings: Language; ANGST; seriously, this whole thing is like one big angst fest; smidge of fluff; mentions of murder

*******************************************************************************************

The mission had gone horribly wrong.

Not wanting (or maybe not able) to face anybody, I trudged back to my quarters without so much as a ‘hello’ to anyone after arriving back at the Yavin 4 base. As if on autopilot, I shed my dirty clothes, covered in dirt and grime and blood, and headed for the shower, washing up before following my nightly routine and crawling into bed. Sleep didn’t come.

That’s how it was for three days.

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Divided: Part 21

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Steve x Reader

Warnings: Angst, blood, violence 

Word Count: 3160

Summary: You and T’Challa arrive in Siberia to find your teammates already engaged in combat.

Authors Note:  As I updated a week or two ago, I have been going through a lot of difficulties lately, and having a bit of a rough time with it. Because of this my free time and my writing ability has suffered. A lot of the reason that this has taken so long is because I suffered a lot of anxiety about returning and being good enough after taking such a hiatus. But this is my attempt to get back in the game, so hopefully you enjoy it <3  I always love hearing from you all, so drop a line with thoughts or predictions!  Tagging is open, just ask, if you are on my tag list and your username has changed PLEASE let me know!

Divided: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 


Your legs twitch nervously as T’Challa’s fingers flick at the controls, landing his plane smoothly on the ground. Within an instant, you unclasp your buckle and rise to your feet, your breath catching in your chest as you spot Steve and Bucky’s stolen quinjet a few yards ahead.

You hurry towards the weapons lining the side wall of the plane as T’Challa moves quickly beside you, his hand catching your wrist as you reach for one of the many knives.

“Relax your Highness,” You roll your eyes as you attempt to twist out of his grip, his hand holding firm, “I’m not grabbing for you… whether I like it or not, you and I are on the same side now.” You huff as he releases you, shaking his head slowly.

“Oh no… you are staying here, young one.” His low voice instructs you, a veiled threat present in his tone. “I will be retrieving Barnes on my own, I do not need you interfering again to save your boyfriend.”  

You breathe slowly, trying to curb your frustration as the clock ticks onwards, precious seconds being wasted in an argument. For all you know, the assassins could have already killed your friends and escaped.

“Look. I get it. You don’t trust me. But right now we are up against a much larger danger. You think my ‘boyfriend’ is a threat? Inside these walls there are 5 super assassins that my team is going up against. We are drastically outmatched, but at least if you bring me along we don’t have to be outnumbered.” You speak quickly, the exasperation in your tone making your agitation clear as your foot taps in annoyance, every second wasted allowing more room for loss.

T’Challa stands for a moment, considering you, “Very well, suit up.” You heed his words, hurriedly selecting your weapons as you replenish the holsters of your tactical suit. He places his helmet on as he moves towards the back of the plane, firmly hitting a button to descend the ramp.

You follow swiftly after him, your legs twinging painfully at the speed of your movement, you hurriedly hide your wince of pain as you fall into step beside T’Challa, your footfalls muffled by the soft snow beneath your boots.

You slowly approach the steel doors that had been left ajar by the previous visitors. Suddenly T’Challa’s plane exudes a large amount of exhaust, the unexpected sound causing you to whip around, your defenses trained for enemy fire.

In a moment, T’Challa had sped from your side, moving swiftly towards the steel doors, bending them solidly shut behind him as the lock clicks into place, leaving you barred on the outside.

“HEY!” You shriek, your fist beating angrily against the cold, rusted steel. “T’Challa! You idoit! What the fuck are you doing?”

“I am sorry young scorpion, but I believe I am doing what is right, I cannot have you interfering.” His words fall swiftly through the door as they fade.

Your hands beat harshly against the metal, willing it to buckle beneath your fervent fists as a slew of profanities tear from your lips.

You stare at your blocked entrance through frustrated tears. Taking a few deep breaths, looking around quickly, seeking any indication of an alternative way in.

Escape hatch. You think fleetingly, beginning to climb up the snow mound by the side of the door, seeking to get on top of the fortress.

With so much underground they would need alternative ways out. I just have to find one… Your foot slips slightly as you scale the wall, using your knives to push hand holds into the firm snow. After a bit of difficulty, you pull yourself to the top, seeing a handful of large launching pads dispersed throughout the flat roof, but no clear manholes.

You move tentatively, unsure of your footing or what defenses may be present. Suddenly the ground shakes beneath you, causing you to crouch down, steadying your balance on the slippery snow, the deafening sound of an explosion below causing your heart to pound fervently.

Suddenly you see something in the distance, a man in a long black jacket emerging from the white ground. You react quickly as he begins to run.

“Hey!” you yell, moving hastily on his tail. But your attention is briefly diverted as the ground shakes once more, causing you to lose your footing, sending you sliding to your knees, stopping only feet from a large launch hatch that was suddenly opening.

Frantically rising to your feet, you dodge the snow debris falling from the door of the hatch. As it opens you can hear the sound of yelling faintly over the whine of the metal gears.

Without thinking you begin running towards the large hole, stopping short as you gaze down the maze of grates lining the wall. You watch as a large dark figure jumps across from grate to grate, his metal arm catching himself as he pulls his body up onto the platform.

Without a moment of hesitation, you scamper down the ladder, not thinking of anything else but reaching Bucky. Jumping from the middle rung, you hit the platform firmly, allowing your knees to bend as you absorb the shock of the landing.

Hurriedly turning around, you see Stark collide forcefully with Bucky, sending him sprawling backwards onto a lower platform. “BUCKY!” You scream, looking down on him, running hurriedly along the wall of platforms as you try to get to him.

“Stark Stop!!” You plead as Bucky looks up to you, leaving himself vulnerable for a moment,

“Scorpion, this is your final warning, stay out of it.” You gasp as Stark takes the cheap shot, sending a blast straight at Bucky. Steve appears just in time, placing his shield up in front of Bucky as the shot reverberates back at Stark, knocking him against the opposing wall.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky yells up to you, fear and joy warring for dominance across his features as he moves quickly from Steve, climbing the walls and platforms, ascending to you.

You kneel down, watching him climb up to you as Stark rises to his feet once more, resuming his pursuit. “Watch out!” You yell, attempting to give a warning, but Steve reacts first, wrapping a thin wire around Starks neck as he jumps towards the ground, dragging Tony with him.

Your attention switches quickly back to Bucky, speaking words of encouragement as you watch him make large and dangerous jumps, every moment coming closer to you. “Come on!” You shout as you hear Cap’s shield clatter to the ground, just as Bucky makes a particularly risky jump to the platform you are kneeling on.

His fingers dig into the grate as he hangs below, you frantically fumble your hands along his back helping to pull him up. Within an instant you are both on your feet and frantically climbing, hopping the few more platforms to the ladder.

He begins to climb ahead of you, both of you frantically scaling the rungs with speed. You scream as the hinge abruptly explodes beside you, Stark’s missile coming in firm contact as the door groans, collapsing downwards.

You drop down hurriedly, ducking into the shelter of the ladder as Bucky jumps to the opposite wall, both of you narrowly avoiding debris from the blast.

“Y/N!” You hear him cry out in concern as you shift into a crouched position, coming into eye contact as you both realize that you are trapped.

Stark rises swiftly between you, going after Bucky as he ferociously swings a large pipe from the debris. Your hands scramble hurriedly around you, reaching for fragmented bits of concreate as you begin to send a barrage of flying objects at Stark.

But to no avail, Stark moves swiftly, locking his arms around Bucky’s neck before speaking clearly to him as you scream, pleading with Tony to release him. “Do you even remember them?” He asks forcefully.

You fall into silence as you watch Bucky’s face, pain and regret flashing across his features. “I remember all of them.” He speaks slowly, struggling to breathe as Tony’s metal limbs wrap around him.

“Tony please.” You beg, tears falling from your eyes once again. “No!” You scream, as Stark flies down taking Bucky with him. You jump without thinking, adrenaline pulsing through you as you fling yourself at Stark’s back, wrapping your limbs around him and clinging on for dear life as the three of you fall down the shaft.

“Y/N!” Steve yells as he jumps across, catching you around the waist, causing you to dislodge and slam back against the wall, coming to rest painfully on a platform, gasping for air at the impact.

Bucky, Tony, and Steve fall quickly, the force of Steve’s contact causing their bodies to ricochet against the wall, sending Bucky flying to a platform a few floors beneath you. Groaning, you roll onto your stomach, pushing yourself to all fours as you look down at Bucky, breathing with a sigh of relief as you see him moving.

He makes eye contact with you, as you nod, reassuring him that you are alright. You rise hurriedly, dropping down each platform, silently working your way towards him. He quickly rises to all fours as he looks down at Steve.

“This isn’t going to change what happened.” Steve’s soft voice reverberates up the shaft, echoing in the cavern.

“I don’t care.” Tony says firmly, standing in opposition to Steve. “He killed me mom.” You gasp audibly as Stark flies forward at Steve, Bucky’s eyes connecting with yours as you drop to the platform next to him, taking a large jump onto the one he was standing on.

His arms wrap firmly around you, catching your momentum as you wince painfully at the impact on your abused legs. “I…” He whispers, the tentative tone of an excuse coming.

“Not now love.” You whisper placing a sharp kiss to his lips to let him know where your head was. “I know.” Your fingers quickly ghost over his jaw as you move to the adjacent platform, retrieving Steve’s shield as you move down towards your Captain.

“No,” Bucky says firmly, pulling the shield out of your hands as you both scramble downwards, “You’re hurt enough. Please stay out of harm’s way. I’ll protect him… Old habits die hard I guess.” He shrugs sheepishly as he turns from you.

Before you can argue, Bucky jumps the last few feet to the battle below, raising the shield high above his head as he brings the edge crashing down into Stark’s back. Stark responds immediately sending a blast that reflects off the shield and comes flying up towards you as you narrowly dodge it.

You watch from a safe distance as Bucky throws the shield back to Steve, knowing full well that you would be more of a nuisance at this time, with your weakened state and the ineffectiveness of your weapons against Stark’s iron shield.

You watch helplessly as the two super soldiers take on their friend, working seamlessly to double team him and drop him quickly to his knees.

As elated as you want to feel at them grabbing the upper hand, the constant twinge of heartbreak still tears through your body as you remember who is in the suit.

Then suddenly the hand shifts, Steve catches a blast to the stomach and is thrown backwards, leaving Bucky to take on Stark alone. You cannot stand idly by as he takes hit after hit, you move quickly descending to the main area as Bucky regains the upper hand, ferociously slamming Stark against the wall, his metal hand digging into the core of Tony’s suit.

You stop in your hurried movements, frozen as you rush forward, watching the animalistic tendency taking over the man you love. The hardened heart of the beaten and broken assassin burning through.

“Bucky! Bucky stop!” You cry, but he cannot hear you, his own savage scream drowning out your plea. With a sudden blast of light, he is thrown backwards, coming to land harshly on his knee, his eyes wide with shock as his gaze falls on the smoking exposed wires where his metal arm just was.

You move quickly, stepping between Stark and him as Stark raises his hand once again. “Move!” Tony hollers at you, but you stand firmly blocking his path to Bucky as he tries to aim around you. You rush forward your hands reaching for the blaster on his palm as you try to deflect him.

“Tony! Tony, stop! Please! STOP!” You plead rapidly, as you try to block him, “MOVE!” He screams once more trying to push you aside, but you hold on tighter, refusing to step aside.

With one quick motion, Stark’s arm sweeps against your waist, catching you painfully right along the ribs as the strength of his blow sends you flying back against the ramp. You hit the concreate painfully, your head smacking forcefully to the ground as you roll down to lie at the base of the ramp.

Your vision is blurry as you see Bucky fly forward once more, Starks blast coming into contact with him. You fight against the swimming sensation in your brain, you try helplessly to rise to your knees once more, as Steve rushes forward, his shield deflecting the oncoming blasts from Tony, protecting Bucky once again, sending light deflecting throughout the enclosure.

Your vision blurs again as Steve engages Tony in combat, your eyes scan roughly along the ground, spotting Bucky, seemingly unconscious, a few feet from you. You fight to get to your knees again, but your consciousness is swimming in and out. You close your eyes as your bloodied cheek presses to the cool concrete.

“He’s my friend.” You hear Steve’s plea, drifting to your deafening ears as if in a distant room. “So was I.” Tony responds, his voice becoming clearer as you force your eyes open again, seeing Tony slam hit after hit into your Captain’s face as Bucky stirs slowly behind him.

You raise your head as Stark grabs Steve by his straps, throwing him roughly against a pillar, “Stay down. Final warning.” Stark snarls, standing threatening in front of Steve.

You watch as your Captain struggles to his feet, falling roughly back into fighting stance. His perseverance inspiring you once more as you press your palms firmly to the ground and push back onto your knees, yelping quietly when a sharp pain stings your side as you breathe.

“I could do this all day.” Steve breathes heavily, raising his fists once more as your vision swims again, your hands gripping harshly at the floor as the world seems to move around you. You know you have pushed your body to its limits, and unlike the super soldiers surrounding you, you were unable to recover so quickly.

You watch helpless as Stark prepares another blast for Steve, but Bucky moves instinctively, grabbing at Starks ankle and subsequently receiving a sharp kick to the face as he falls backwards to the ground.

If nothing else had been able to force clarity back into your head, the site of the blood trickling from Bucky’s face had done the trick. You moved quickly, ignoring the intense pain in your side with every breath or movement.

You grit your teeth as your body threatens to lose consciousness. In the moment that Stark was distracted by your and Bucky’s sudden movements, Steve is able to step forward and gain the upper hand, raising the iron man high above his head before throwing him forcefully against a pillar.

Steve moves on top of Tony trapping him down, as you hurry over to Bucky, touching his face softly as his eyes try to focus on you. “Come on, baby. Buck. Bucky! We have to get you out of here, come on, come on!” You whisper fervently your pleas falling on deaf ears.

His remaining hand rises up to meet your face, his warm fingers wiping at the sticky blood dribbling down your cheek. You press into his touch as your tears mix with the dirt and blood, creating clear tracks down your cheek.

You turn your attention to Steve, knowing that you did not have the strength to move Bucky on your own.

Your Captain had retained the upper hand, but with each hit the ferocity of his movements were mimicking Bucky’s lack of control, with each contact he was chipping away at what had always made him your Captain.

“Captain,” You call out, allowing Bucky’s hand to drop from your face as you rise with difficulty to your feet. Steve continues in his abusive, repetitive action, ramming the shield with malice into Starks mask, exposing Tony’s fearful face as he raises the shield once more.

“Steve!” You yell, your hand coming in contact with his shoulder as he looks up at you, his eyes black and wild with desperation. With a final growl, he crashes the shield into Tony’s chest, falling sideways off him as you all remain still for a moment, shocked by the deterioration of what was once a team.

“Tony… I…” You whisper regretfully as you extend a hand to Steve, pulling him roughly to his feet as you stagger on your own. Tony closes his eyes and turns away from you, small tears seeping from the corners of his eyes. He rolls onto his side as Steve steps beside you retrieving his shield and wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you on your feet, before he moves past you to pull Bucky to his.

“Tony… I’m so sorry.” You whisper as you kneel beside him, reaching for his shoulder and helping to pull him into a more upright position. His eyes connect with yours, his expression softening slightly as he looks at your tear stained cheeks. Tear tracks having carved pathways in the fresh blood painted along the side of your face, as bruises quickly formed beneath your skin.

“I never wanted you to get hurt.” He whispers, his gaze falling from you once again as he falls back on his arm. “I…”

“Y/N.” Steve speaks firmly. Stark’s gaze rises to Steve once more, as he stands there looking coldly down at him, supporting Bucky by his side.

“That shield doesn’t belong to you.” Stark spits, as you rise hesitantly to your feet, retreating over to Steve and Bucky as you loop your arm around Bucky’s waist to help him. Steve turns you all away as Tony bellows after him, “You don’t deserve it. My father made that shield!”

Steve stops, causing Bucky to stumble beside you. You glance to your Captain, seeing that the clear blue of his eyes had returned as he looks ahead in sadness. With a deep sigh, he drops the shield beside him, the clatter of the metal providing a finality to the confrontation, as if a door had sealed shut.


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I know that many people have already done AUs about The Rogue One crew living, some of them deviating from canon and others trying to be canon compliant but bear with me. This is my “They lived and exist in canon” AU.

  • Bodhi makes a leap for the ramp right before the grenade goes off. Because he’s already airborne, the shock wave actually throws him out of the ship and away from the resulting fireball.
  • He finds Baze and Chirrut, and patches them up field-style with a few bits and pieces of first aid equipment that he scrounges from bodies and in one case, from a blown-open supply crate.
  • He then finds a shuttle, gets them on it. Finds Jyn and Cassian and gets the five of them the hell out of there.
  • They’re all in such bad shape though that they are all put into bacta tanks and confined to a closed off room in the infirmary. None of them fully regain consciousness for a couple weeks, and subsequently miss the destruction of the death star. (They all watch the holovid of it much later, and sometimes Cassian catches Jyn watching it over and over again)
  • Because Rogue One has proven to be a bit of a loose canon, the medics actually make sure the crew members all awake within a few hours of each other. They also make sure the beds are placed so everyone can see everyone else. It prevents Jyn from losing it when she wakes first, and likewise prevents Baze from ripping out his medical tubes when he wakes before Chirrut.
  • Luke, Han, and Leia’s parts in actually destroying the death star make them the heroes of the hour and combined with the fact that a kindhearted former-farmboy Jedi, a Princess, and a smuggler-turned hero make a more dashing combination than Rogue One, the decision is made to not broadcast that the team who acquired the plans in the first place lived. The Rebellion also figures that the Empire would love to get their hands on Rogue One, so that is another factor.
  • Since their injuries need serious rehabilitation even after they’re cleared to leave the medbay, Rogue One becomes a kind of handyman team for the Rebellion. They fix small things and do quiet missions and a lot of the background things that need to be done.
  • They’re all quite happy to fade into the background, actually. Although Chirrut regrets that he never really gets to meet Luke and speak to him of the Force. By the time Chirrut recovers fully, Luke is always somewhere important or with Leia and Han and then before they know it he leaves to find Yoda. (Chirrut trusts in the Force that Luke will figure things out in a way to make being a Jedi work for him.)
  • They all celebrate the end of the Empire on Endor, together. Jyn cries for Luke when she hears about Vader (she feels for him and his Imperial father who loved his child enough to risk everything) and then, Rogue One packs up and leaves.
  • All five of them settle down as a family, but they never stay on a planet for more than a few years. They basically drop in, work to stabilize the city/village/etc, weed out leftover Imperials, and then establish a home. When they get the itch to do something, they find a new planet and do it all over again. The New Republic loses track of them after a while, and no one knows how or where they end up in the end.

anonymous asked:

How Seth Rollins would be if you got injured

How Seth Rollins would be if you got injured…

Originally posted by the-architect-rollins

~ Being a part of the WWE roster obviously came with consequences, injury being the most common.

~ Even though most people would get minor torn muscles or twisted ankles on a weekly basis, a major injury is still possible. In your case, you experienced a neck injury when facing Sasha Banks at the previous pay-per-view.

~ As the moment you fell on your neck happened, the match was instantly drawn to a halt as you grasped at your neck in pure agony, lone tears beginning to stream down your cheeks.

~ Doctors and nearly all forms of medics rushed to your aid as you sat with your back rested against the ringside barricade. Through the mass of people crowding you and your now slightly blurred vision you still could distinguish the dark, muscular figure sprinting down the ramp towards you; your fairly long-term boyfriend, Seth Rollins.

~ “Babe? Y/N can you hear me. Are you alright?” Seth questioned, his calloused hands gripped tightly on either of your shoulders. He placed several of light kisses against your forehead before rubbing his thumbs underneath your eyes, clearing the streams of tears flowing from your eyes. 

~ “No I swear to god Seth something’s wrong… I’m sorry.” You sobbed, hissing as doctors examined the painful areas of your neck.

~ Doctors ordered you to stand yet the pain was too unbearable and ultimately caused you to feel incredibly light-headed. You just couldn’t walk, it seemed too impossible at this point. “I-I can’t stand.”

~ Within a matter of seconds you were physically swept off your feet as Seth lifted you into a bridal carry; still being cautious of your newly injured neck. “You call yourselves doctors, get her a fucking ambulance.” Seth bellowed at the crowd that followed you up the ramp.

~ He continually reassured you that you’d be fine the whole ambulance ride, never letting you leave his sight for the whole duration of the journey.

~ When you were told you’d need surgery to fix the damage Seth’s face instantly dropped knowing this was the definition of your worst nightmare; the pure fact you wouldn’t be able to wrestle for a good year.

~ Upon waking up in recovery, the first thing you saw was Seth sitting at your bedside, mumbling sentences into your hands. “Come on baby, wake up for me.”

~ “Already one step ahead of you.” You sassed as Seth leapt onto his feet to plant a passionate kiss on your lips.

~ After being confined to a neck brace for what’s supposed to be a long time, there was purely nothing more you wanted to do than go home and catch up on the rest of the show missed. Except you had to face the harsh reality that your boyfriend had to return to his tour tomorrow morning and you were solely bed bound.

~ Seth made sure you had everything you needed whilst he was away; of course that involved chocolate, doughnuts and a bitter-sweet kiss goodbye.

~ He didn’t want to leave you knowing how fragile you were right now but you practically forced him to go; besides you still got to watch him from your tv screen.

~ Seth was so protective of you, during his travels leaving you calls whenever he could checking up on you right up to the date of your return. A whole devastating year made better by the man of your dreams.


Lord I just love Seth!! Hope you liked this one :)xo ~ Nikkii

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