how about that uniform

One time Ryuji wears shorts to a workout with Akira that are made out a soft material kinda like cotton, but more breathable. And like Akira can see his like thighs peeking out underneath and he’s just thinking “I’m gay!??!??”. Then when Ryuji bends over to lift something Akira.exe stops working because by god does that fabric hide nothing.

thank god for this post bc police dogs are not cute and adorable. you shouldnt be taking pictures of them like “look at this dog out for a day of work!” like

granted ok sure the dog didnt “choose” the job but. those dogs are specifically picked for the fact that they have strong bite forces (shepherds, malinois’, rottweilers, dobermans) and are aggressive when trained to be like. they’re not cute. they’ve killed people and severely maimed people in the past.

people who try to get away from police dogs and accidentally injure/kill them are usually attacked by the officer themselves and then the public blames the person for hurting a dog that was literally trying to kill them like. they’re not cutesy little puppers for you to reblog about and talk about how “totally cute” their uniform is, they’re weapons.

Can we just talk about how unique and interesting the uniforms and and costumes are for the women in black panther? Like, most female costumes (esp. for superhero films) are just boring, skintight or sexy (and ultimately impractical) outfits that have been seen a hundred times before.

I can genuinely say that I’ve NEVER seen female costumes like the ones in Black Panther. They are colorful and visually stunning, while also looking practical. A+


Ok, but you guys do realize what this means right? So Steve gets this frankly less than platonic  100% heterosexual comment from Bucky, and then, knowing full well how Bucky feels about the uniform, proceeds to spend an indeterminate amount of time personally sketching out a revised uniform that retains most stylistic aspects of the old outfit. Now, I’m not saying it was all for Bucky, I’m just saying, it was all for Bucky.

Just sketch of Hamilton done in pencil. Sorry about the shadows, I couldn’t remove them.

Quarterback Comeback - Chris Evans

Request: Okay so you wrote the Falcon fan story, think you can write one where the reader is a Patriots fan? Because if I had been at that game I would have been flipping out right along side him! & 

Request: Hey, do you think you can write a Chris Evans x Reader at the Superbowl, she’s also a Pats fan, and sooo much into the game. And they both yell the same thing at the same time and Chris notices her and like immediate crush, please?

A/N: Sorry if this is a bit cramped or any sort of football terminology is off, I tried to be accurate as I could. I even watched highlights of the game and went on the NFL website to look up the players, lmao. I hope this is good for both requests! Lots of love - R .x 

people: Chris!SuperBowl - Reader ft. Scott Evans & Jeremy Renner

warnings: nope.

“Yeah! Fuck yeah! Is this was euphoria feels like? Cause I’m high as a fuckin’ kite, that was sick, man!” You gave a double high five to Renner before turning to take a sip of your beer, which was missing. 

What the fuck, who takes a beer at the Super Bowl? Are we savages?

“Chris, I think someone stole my beer, Imma go get another-” Just as you were searching through your purse you glanced up at your boyfriend to see him frozen, with a beer situated right on his lips.

Popping up, you snatched your beer out of the thieves hands. Putting it on your other side knowing Renner would spit it out any of the beer if he decided to steal it. It was Bud Light and Renner was too fancy for that shit, so he says.

“Hey! Asshole! Ain’t you got millions? Get your paws off my drink!” I poked at Chris’s Patriot covered chest and saw those blue eyes begin their trick of puppy dog eyes, the ones I never could resist from him, ever.

“I thought we share now? Besides, it’s like God is upon us now! We have a fucking lead we’re so close, babe. We’re gonna win. I know it. Forget the beer we are going to be champions again-” We swing our heads as Scott yells out for us to look out onto the field- oh fuck.



You saw your second boyfriend (to be fair, Chris didn’t really care and actually would agree anytime you talked about how Tom’s ass looked damn fine in his uniform. 

“Are you two fuckin’ like psychic? What the hell?” You both turned to Renner and rose a brow to him,

“What do ya mean?” Chris took a swig of his own beer can, and let his eyes drift back and forth to the field as Brady got Pat’s for his slide into the 40-yard line.

“You two have been yelling the same thing at the exact same time for like twenty minutes, I’d think you’ll we’re from the shining if you guys weren’t fuc-” 

Punching his shoulder you just smirked at Renner and shook your head, “It’s called telekinesis, Jer. We get it whenever we watch sports. It’s like all of a sudden we share a brain-” You took a slow glare to Chris jokingly, “And apparently beer’s now too…”

Chris only laughed and grasped your waist, pulling you snug into his side as the team set up again. “You think they’ll come back from 3 to 28?” 

Scott asked nonchalantly, only to have you and Chris simultaneously tell him, “Yeah we fuckin’ arah! We turning this steamboat around.”

You giggled at this weird formation that only now you realized looked probably quite disturbing outside of your mind and Chris’s as well. “We’re weird, aren’t we?”

“Yup. Psychos whose team is about to lock this shit down.” You gave Chris a peck to his arm before turning back to the game, only to see a goddamn miracle happen as White took a dive, landing a touchdown but just inches.

“Yeah! Oh, my! God!” You and Chris looked at each other with eyes filled to the brim with joy. Except, normally the passion that was in between you was not because a sweaty guy just got sacked by a bunch of other sweaty guys and managed to still land a touchdown.

“Still worried we ain’t gonna win, Scottie?” You leaned over and looked at Scott as he gave you a fuck off smirk and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh good, god. I’m gonna have to have to Chris’s in my life now? Is this what it’s gonna be like, every time the Patriot’s get to the Super Bowl? Because if so, I’m gonna start charging you both for my additional weekly therapy sessions.” 

Chris just laughed loudly, clapping his heads as he threw his head back, obviously getting a bit Drunk Happy. You just chuckled to yourself and downed the rest of my beer, setting it aside and focusing back on the game.


You knew they were going to make a comeback, it was what New Englander’s did. We turned around in the last moments and came together to fucking smash the glass ceiling every time. We never stop and we don’t even let our minds wander in the final hours of the game. To see the ball make it across the white line, and into the zone, landing us Patriots, another. Fucking. Win.

Confetti went off as you and Chris jumped up and down, high from the electricity in the air of fellow Bostonians and Englander’s cheering the team for their miraculous victory. “Oh my god! Yes! Yeah, yeah, yeah!” You shouted along with Chris as we roared with the fans. 

Taking in the victory of another win. Feeling Chris tug slightly on your arm made you turn towards him only to be picked up by the inward curve of your waist, and have a pair of beer tasting lips kiss you fiercely. Not bothering in holding back anything between you both as he kissed you with as much force as he could without pain. You draped your arms around his neck, letting your legs snake around his waist. Suddenly forgetting you were in public and people we most likely filming this. You frankly, give a damn, because your Quarterback was kissing from the victory. 

You almost pulled away from Chris with the love he poured into the kiss, feeling as if it was too much for your body to handle with all the excitement and beer running through you, right now. He pulled his head away and gave a dreaming, toothy grin that made you giggle softly into his neck while leaned in. You embraced the teddy bear of a man while swaying together back and forth in almost a hypnotic motion. Letting the cheers take you both different places. It was weird looking at everyone jumping and screeching, yet you’d just been that person who was tugging at their hair, grabbing anyone in sighting to tug them towards the scene below you, or even just shouting fuck over and over.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the chaos that surrounded you both, and the euphoria that laid in between are bodies, almost like we found a transportation device and we’re no longer at the stadium. We’re just together, loving one in another in a celebration of joy and love. After the last year, this win felt more than a victory for the Patriots, it felt like a win for you and Chris, personally. 

After the fights that you both went through together, united as one for the injustice that America was receiving these days, and much more to come, it sucked to believe tomorrow would resume normally. You kept in mind that in this moment, confetti popped and fell all around us, some catching even in your tangled locks.

“I mean, I hate to say this, Scott, but look how cute the Shining twins are? It’s like a football romantic dramedy!” Chris’s friend John teased you both as he pointed his camera towards us both, making Scott laugh and swat at John’s camera 

“Hey! It’s only during football season we become one. The rest of the time we are in a war together on who is better than the other at what. Let’s be honest, babe. I’m better, always.”

You slapped Chris on the chest and giggled, taking his unfinished Bud light from behind him, and slowly bringing it to your lips, “You keep telling yourself that, Buddy Boy. Just remember that we have film age of me kicking your ass all the way to Colorado in table tennis.”

“Shots already fired and we aren’t even out of the damn stadium yet!” Scott groaned, smacking his hand to his forehead. Jeremy let out a gruff laugh and patted my back as you situate yourself back on the ground again, fixing your top that had risen slightly.

“Congrats Scott on your newest sibling!” Jeremy teased to across at Scott who was smiling and shaking his head. “I’m in for a new hearing aid when they have a baby and becomes the ultimate super pat’s fan. Can you imagine?”

“Yes, I can, dork! And she’s also part of the team and is alongside all the best players and has gotten twenty super bowl rings so yeah!” You smiled at Chris delicately, as if he was suddenly made of glass. His voice never wavered when he replied to Scott, meaning he’d thought about our daughter in the NFL before. Not just making it up right now.

“Hmm, Baby Evans, Quarterback for the Patriots and winner of… a noble peace prize! I like that, babe. Let’s go start planning her future college fund, right now! Well, after we celebrate, then we can start her college fund and map out where she’ll play in college…”

Chris smiled and jumped for joy like a jumping bean suddenly made its way into his heart. Chris couldn’t help but dream about the perfection of you and him, crossed together to make the most amazing human being.

Chris knew that whatever gender, whatever personality, they’d have a Quarterback baby. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world to think about, though. He couldn’t help but smile more and more at the thought of a baby Evans wandering around during a future Super bowl, with a tiny Brady jersey on during the game.

Something to look forward too, in the next few years. 

At least that was Chris’s hope.

I can’t keep my Chris!Dad feels down, guys!!! I mean like look below, COME ONNNNN! They always come out in my writing, lol. I hope you enjoyed it! 

Keep reading

Jughead x Reader: I Love You, Okay?

Warnings: none
Requested: yes
A/N: this is short but I didn’t really know how to elaborate :(

*your POV*

“Alright girls, now we have possibly our last game of the season tomorrow night, so we have to look our best and finish the season with a boom.” Cheryl Blossom, head of the cheerleading squad spoke in her cringy, ear-piercing voice. She disgusted me in every sense, and ever since Jason’s death she had become more annoying, using his murder to get out of things. I glanced over at the bleachers where Jughead was hiding, just like every practice. He always came to watch me secretly, and it made my heart flutter. He knew I hated Cheryl and whenever she would go off on a tangent about something Jughead would always mock her, making me giggle.

Keep reading


My canon knowledge of Veritaserum is pretty rough so this is probably not how it works but the plot bunnies invaded and I had to write it anyway. Y’know because every fandom needs more Harry Potter AUs…*

Mainly Sprace with some Javid for good measure :)

When Davey and Jack sat down at the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall Davey looked terrified and exasperated and Jack looked smug. It wasn’t actually that out of the ordinary for them so no one gave them a second look until their whispered conversation could be overheard.

“You shouldn’t have done it. Jack, this is serious. You could get expelled,” Davey hissed desperately, trying to keep his voice down so no one would hear him. Jack had been an idiot but he didn’t actually want his boyfriend to get kicked out of school.

“What did Jack do now?” Race asked, rolling his eyes. There was never a shortage of things Jack had done that could be classed as stupid, and a good third of them could probably get him expelled if the wrong person found out about them.

Davey just shook his head, not wanting to repeat it, but Jack himself grinned and leaned closer.

“So we were making Veritaserum in potions and ours was perfect,” he started, sounding very proud of himself.

“No thanks to you,” Davey interjected.

Jack blew Davey a kiss in appreciation of his boyfriend’s potions skills before continuing his story.

“They told us not to keep any, obviously, but…” Jack withdrew a tiny vial from his pocket with only a few drops of what could have been water in it. It was only about enough for one dose but that would still get him in more trouble than anyone wanted to consider.

The reactions of their little group of friends was mixed. Davey covered the vial with his own hand, urging Jack to put it back in his pocket before someone saw. Crutchie got up wordlessly and walked away; he was absolutely not going to get involved in illegal potions. Blink and Race shared Jack’s grin, leaning in and dreaming up schemes of exactly what they could do with that potion. Mush shook his head, turning away a little and blocking out the rest of the conversation so he’d have plausible deniability.

“Jack, please, get rid of it,” Davey begged. It was his potion too and, considering he knew exactly what had happened when Jack took it from their cauldron, he was undoubtedly going to be questioned when Jack was dragged into the headmistress’ office. “I am not visiting you in Azkaban.”

“No one is going to arrest me, you dork,” he sighed, poking Davey in the arm. “They let us brew it at school.”
“And then they confiscate it and threaten us with expulsion if we’re found with any,” Davey insisted. He was terrified of dementors and he didn’t want Jack to be surrounded by them for the foreseeable future.

Jack just shrugged. “So I won’t get found,” he said, like it wasn’t a big deal.

“You know they do random searches after Veritaserum classes,” Race pointed out. “And we all know you’d be a prime ‘random’ candidate.”

Everyone was nodding, some more fervently than others, and eventually Jack sighed and gave in.

“Okay, fine,” he groaned. Taking the vial out again and hiding it in his hand, he tipped the few drops of liquid into a discarded water goblet. “Happy? It’s gone.”

Davey visibly relaxed, all the tension draining from his body as he sighed and pressed a grateful kiss to Jack’s cheek.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, offering a small smile when Jack kissed him back.

The moment was interrupted when Race threw a bread roll at Jack’s head. “Stop canoodling,” he complained.

Jack kissed Davey again out of spite, only pulling back when Davey pushed him back gently.

“Later?” he asked, grinning when Davey ducked his head to hide a blush and nodded. They’d become well acquainted with places in the school they could make out without getting caught by faculty or nosy students. Jack turned his attention to Race. “You’re only mad because Spot doesn’t want to ‘canoodle’ with you.”

Race’s face went scarlet, half from anger and half from embarrassment. Everyone in their friendship group knew he had a stupid crush on his best friend, except Spot himself, and they’d all learnt not to bring it up but Jack just had to rock the boat.

“Shut up,” Race hissed.

It was just his luck that that was the moment Spot slumped down beside them, his muscles aching from hours of self-imposed Quidditch practice. He was the best seeker Slytherin had had in years and he was determined to keep it that way. Race fought to get his blush under control, trying not to think about how good Spot looked in the old Quidditch uniform he used for practice.

“Why’s Race a tomato?” Spot asked, eloquent as ever as he grabbed the nearest water goblet and downed it. Practice was thirsty work and he’d gone straight to meet his friends.

It was only after he’d already swallowed that Davey realised exactly what he’d just drank.

“Shit,” he breathed, getting everyone’s attention with rare bad language.

Spot froze. “What?” he asked, laughing nervously. He looked down at the goblet, trying to work out what was so bad about it.

“Spot, I’m so sorry,” Jack stammered, and that made everything even worse.

With so much out of character behavior, Spot got worried.

“What did you do?” he demanded, clenching his fists.

“I didn’t mean for you… or anyone…” Jack tried, before realising he had to just say it. “It’s Veritaserum. There was Veritaserum in that water.”

Suddenly there was fear in Spot’s eyes. He was the most guarded person Jack had ever met, so he could understand why everyone suddenly having the power to take whatever information they wanted from him was terrifying. Every secret and every emotion he kept suppressed suddenly became just one question away from public knowledge and Spot had never felt so vulnerable. There was so much he never talked about - how his family had treated him before he’d left for Hogwarts, how they still treated him when he went back for summers; how he’d realised he was interested in guys and kept it quiet, even though he’d managed to make friends with the queerest bunch of people to ever exist, because if his father ever found out he’d never live to so much as kiss a boy; how he spent night after night working on essays and assignments that took everyone else only a couple of hours because his childhood education had been so poor he’d barely known how to write when he got to Hogwarts. None of his secrets were anyone else’s business and the fact that they could fall off his tongue at any second made him want to run and hide.

“Don’t talk to me,” he demanded.

“It’s okay,” Katherine tried to reassure him. “We won’t ask you anything, but you don’t have to hide things from us. You know that, right?”

The question was out before she’d even realised she’d phrased it as such and before she could apologise Spot was filled with a numbing compulsion to answer. It wasn’t painful but it was impossible to fight and before he could get away, he was talking.

“There are things I can’t tell any of you. Especially not Race.”

Spot yelped in protest and pressed his hand over his own mouth, trying to clamp his jaw shut. Why had he had to mention Race? His best friend was now looking at him, hurt, from across the table and Spot knew what was coming next.

“Especially not me? What? Why?” Race asked, before he had time to think.

Spot fought the urge to say because I love you. It was the truth and it was choking him, forcing the words up to his mouth, but he swallowed it back with every bit of self-control he could summon and replaced it with something else equally as true but less damaging.

“You’d hate me,” he mumbled, fighting back tears at how horrible this felt. If he hadn’t known why Veritaserum was so fiercely controlled before, he knew now. This was torture.

“Stop asking me shit,” he growled, climbing to his feet. He wasn’t going to sit around and just wait for this to end, he couldn’t.

Jack got up, too. They were both in the same house so it made sense for him to go with Spot but he was met with a glare that could melt iron.

“Don’t you dare,” he ordered. He did not want to see Jack’s face for at least a week. It may have been an accident, but it was still his fault.

Sitting down diligently, Jack muttered another apology. There was a beat of silence before Spot turned and fled from the hall. He’d gotten as far as the stairs that led down to the dungeons when a hand tapped him on the back. Whirling around, ready to punch whoever was following him in the jaw, Spot found Race miming zipping his lips shut and waving awkwardly. There was clearly a question in his eyes and Spot groaned and nodded.

“You can come, just don’t say anything.”
In hindsight it was a bad idea. Race was the person he was keeping the most secrets from, so he had the most to lose with him around. But Race was also his best friend and his favourite person in the world and if anyone could make Spot feel less afraid, it was him. So he let Race accompany him to the Slytherin dormitories, ignoring the confused stares they got passing through the common room with Race in Gryffindor uniform. House rivalries weren’t what they used to be but the brashness with which their friendship group ignored all house boundaries was still a little taboo.

When they got to the sixth-year boys dorm room Spot collapsed on his bed and hid his face in his pillow, trying not to cry. This felt awful and he was finally alone, because Race was so familiar he didn’t count, and he just wanted to die rather than keep enduring it.

“Are you okay?” Race asked gently, breaking his vow of silence because he’d never seen Spot look so small and destroyed.

The aching compulsion was back but Spot didn’t even try to fight it. The answer was already clear anyway.

“No,” he admitted, miserably. “Don’t ask me any questions. Please,” he said, closer to begging than he was comfortable with but desperate for this to all just stop.

“I won’t. No more, I promise,” Race said, holding up his hands in defeat.

He sat on the edge of Spot’s bed, trying to figure out how best to help him. He thought back to all the times he’d seen Jack run his hands through Davey’s hair, when he’d fallen asleep studying or was napping with his head on Jack’s thigh in the common room, and wondered what it would be like to do that to Spot. His hair was longer than Davey’s, loose over his ears and at the nape of his neck, and Race could imagine it so vividly. Would Spot like it? Definitely not, he decided. Because they weren’t together and he didn’t have any right to be touching him so intimately. Still, it took sitting on his hands to stop himself reaching out.

When Race had been silent for a few long moments Spot turned to look at him, barely peeking one eye above the cushion.

“Just…” he sighed, “Just go away. Until it wears off, please.” He wanted Race with him, it was endlessly comforting, but he couldn’t trust himself not to do or say something stupid.

Race was happy to do whatever made Spot feel comfortable, getting up from the bed and heading towards the door. But something made him stop.
“Spot…” he tried, carefully.
“What did I just say?” Spot groaned in response, throwing a pillow in his direction and missing by a good couple of feet.
“I know…” Race sighed. There was a good chance Spot was going to hate him for this, but he had to know. “It’s just… In the Hall you said…”

That got Spot’s attention. He sat up fast, desperation written plainly across his face.

“Don’t!” he pleaded, but that just confirmed Race’s suspicions. There was something Spot wasn’t telling him, something important, and they were meant to be friends. Spot knew everything about him, except the fact he was painfully and irrevocably in love with him, and shouldn’t that go both ways? Taking a deep breath to steel himself for Spot’s fury, Race asked the question.

“Do you have something you need to tell me?”

It hung in the air and suddenly Race wanted to take it back. Spot visibly shattered, knowing there was no way out of this. There was nothing he wanted less than to lose his best friend but he wasn’t in control of his words. He knew there were ways, occlumency and antidotes, to stop the effects of Veritaserum but he wasn’t powerful enough to fight back and he didn’t have a remedy. Still, he tried. It was hardest he’d fought against the potion yet but it still wasn’t strong enough and that compulsion to speak the truth overwhelmed him and he had to give in before it tore his mind to shreds.
“Yes. I’m in love with you. I have been since third year,” he said, gasping through the words and hating every one of them. The second he’d said them he threw his arms up to cover his face, hiding in the crook of his elbow and grasping at the back of his neck to dig his nails in as punishment for not being good enough. He didn’t want Race to see the hot tears that were falling from his eyes; he’d never felt more out of control. “You’re a prick, Anthony Higgins,” he hissed, without looking up. “Get out. I don’t want to see you.”

“But I-”

“Get out,” he ordered. “Before I make you get out.” There was so much anger and hate in Spot’s voice that it was clear the only sensible option was to flee, so Race did.

As the door slammed behind him he heard a muffled and tearful ‘colloportus’ and he couldn’t make his legs move any further. Collapsing down in front of the door, Race rested his forehead on his knees. Spot loved him. Spot. Loved. Him. Those were words he really liked, especially in that order. He just wished he hadn’t found out like that. If he’d known what he was forcing from Spot he never would have… He’d have said it first, if there’d been a guarantee the feeling was mutual. Instead he’d taken the confession in the worst way possible; Spot probably didn’t even feel what he’d said anymore. And Race hadn’t even had the chance to say it back.

 It was half an hour before someone came to disturb Race. He scrubbed dried tear tracks from his cheeks as soon as he heard footsteps, attempting to look presentable, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to stand up. There was a very good chance his legs wouldn’t support him if he tried.

When Jack’s face appeared at the top of the stairs, Race just blinked at him, a little disorientated from being dragged from his own thoughts.

“Holding a vigil?” Jack asked, forcing a smile. He’d mostly been hoping Spot wouldn’t be in the dorm. It was probably best to stay away for a little bit but all his books were in there and Davey was making him study.
“He loves me,” was all Race could whisper. He hadn’t spoken to anyone yet and he just had to tell someone, to make it feel more real.

Jack cocked his head, confused and pretty sure he’d misheard.

“Come again?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Race shook his head. It wasn’t really his secret to tell, not yet and maybe not ever. It might not even be true anymore.

Jack knew when to push and when to move past something and this was definitely an occasion for the latter. He just shrugged and continued his initial line of questioning.

“Spot still in there?”

Race nodded. “He’s not talking to me.”

It wasn’t for lack of trying. He’d knocked on the door and called out Spot’s name a few times but all he got was verbal abuse. By now the Veritaserum had to have worn off, but he still hadn’t come out. The only idea Race had was to tell Spot he loved him back, but that really wasn’t a conversation he wanted to shout through a door if he could help it.
“Can I go in?” Jack asked. He’d been perfectly fine not doing his work and just watching Davey instead, but apparently that wasn’t going to do him any favours and he needed to stop gawping and go and get his arithmancy text book. And that text book was in the trunk at the end of his bed, currently guarded by a particularly irate dragon.

Race considered it. Maybe he could use Jack as a sacrifice so Spot could get out all his anger before they talked. But that didn’t seem particularly fair on Jack. And Davey would be mad if his boyfriend ended up dead.

“Probably unwise,” Race admitted. They needed someone Spot wouldn’t throw anything at, be it cushions or verbal abuse, someone who could keep their temper and actually makes things better, not worse. “Go get Davey.”

“On it,” Jack agreed, heading back to the library.

Davey showed up alone ten minutes later and Race couldn’t help but think that keeping Jack away was a good idea. He should probably keep himself away too but he just couldn’t bring himself to leave.

After patting Race on the shoulder and telling him things were going to be okay (Race had no idea what Jack had told him), Davey got on the task of sorting this whole mess out.

“Spot?” he said, knocking at the door gently.

An empty, miserable voice sounded back.
“Piss off, Race,” Spot whined. He didn’t want to deal with the repercussions of what he’d said.
“It’s not Race,” Davey promised.

He and Race held their breaths, waiting for a reply that finally came after a long wait.
“Come in and shut the door,” Spot sighed, giving in a little. Davey hadn’t done anything wrong.

Offering Race a reassuring smile, Davey cast alohomora on the locked door and went inside.

Race hated waiting. He understood that everything would be easier if Davey had calmed Spot down a little but he was itching to run his fingers through Spot’s hair. Whether was now or ever a possibility was still up in the air but he couldn’t help the desire to do it when they kissed and when Spot was sleeping against his side and just to brush the hair out of Spot’s face so he could see his eyes, because he was awfully prone to trying to hide them. Every second that he wasn’t allowed to do that was driving him crazy. He had to at least know if Spot would let him.

It was exactly eight minutes and twenty-seven seconds until Davey came back out the door - Race knew because he’d counted every single one of them. He scrambled to his feet, his eyes asking the question he didn’t know how to phrase. Davey just nodded and gestured to the room.

“Maybe keep your distance,” he warned, still not sure that Spot wouldn’t lash out if he got angry. “But he said he’ll talk to you.”

Not even sparing a moment to thank Davey, Race ran into the room. Spot was awkwardly stood beside his bed, hugging his arms against his chest like he was very aware of every part of his body. He still looked more broken than Race ever wanted to see him, but he didn’t look so mad anymore.

“I told you not to,” Spot sighed, defeated. There was nothing he could do about what he’d said now. It was his own fault for having the feelings in the first place, anyway.
“I know,” Race nodded, flinching. He felt so guilty. “I’m sorry. But…” He paused, trying to decide whether or not to do this. Considering there was very little chance of him making things worse, he took a deep breath and dove in. “I’m also not sorry. You’re right, you asked me not to and I did it anyway. But Spot, I… I love you too.”

That got Spot’s attention. He dropped his arms, stunned into silence as he stared at Race like he was suddenly alien to him. The eye contact was too awkward for Race to bear and he quickly looked away so all he saw was shadowy movement until Spot was stood in front of him, nudging his chin up with his thumb and kissing him before either of them could second-guess themselves. Race let out a small squeak that he would deny until his dying breath but as soon as his brain caught up with his mouth and realised exactly who he was making out with, his hand instinctively went to Spot’s hair. The sigh that elicited from Spot was the best thing Race had ever heard and he pledged himself to the cause of making it happen as many times as possible.

anonymous asked:

the lead red haired dude from the wood scouts looks like an alternative universe version of david

honestly it just hit me now bc of this that i think they are supposed to be parallels FUCK

tjqueenxoxo  asked:

Me again this is a promp (if you'd like): Maggie and Alex are getting physical in a supply room at the DEO and the whole crew hears alex screams and when they're finished she just walk out awkwardly and id love you forever if you could throw in a Line where Winn make a comment about alex doing things with her finger (referencing that scene where she says she could get him 2 talk painfully in different ways with her finger) Tnx luv u bye mum

Vasquez turns off the security cameras for them periodically.

Alex couldn’t be more grateful.

Unfortunately, Alex also couldn’t be more loud.

Maggie tries – whenever they’re getting physical in public spaces (which, it seems, Alex can’t get enough of, and neither, quite frankly, can Maggie) – to keep Alex quiet. 

Kissing her mouth, swallowing her screams, while she palms her breast under her shirt, pumps her other hand under Alex’s boxers.

And sometimes – always with Alex’s eager nods, always with Alex’s desperate okays, always with Alex’s needy begging – Maggie puts her hand over Alex’s mouth while Maggie occupies her mouth with licking and sucking at her nipple under Alex’s yanked up shirt, her pushed-aside bra.

Maggie’s hand cupped over Alex’s mouth is meant to keep her quiet. Meant to keep them subtle. Meant to keep them somewhat low-key.

But it’s also meant – of course it’s meant – to turn Alex on even harder, and god, does it work.

So when Alex screams through her orgasms, helpless and writhing and all over Maggie’s lips on her breast, all over Maggie’s thigh between her leg, it’s against Maggie’s firm hand covering her mouth.

But the sound of Maggie’s name pours through Maggie’s skin, between the gaps in her fingers, and resonates down the hall and into the command center.

Vasquez smirks and Winn covers his ears and J’onn mutters something about it being bad enough how loudly his daughter thinks and Pam from HR groans because how many times has she lectured them about sex in the workplace?

Alex’s uniform is – for the most part – properly arranged when they stride, flying casual, back into the command center a few minutes later, and Maggie’s hair is – for the most part – in place, though the agents who are distinctly not looking at their commanding officer and her girlfriend could swear her hair was up in a ponytail, not loose around her shoulders, when she and Agent Danvers strode off to “access some archived case files.”

“Sounds like you’re not the only one who knows at least six different ways to make someone scream with their index finger, Alex,” Winn splurts before he sprints away from Alex’s wide eyes and Maggie’s dropped jaw.

“It wasn’t even my index finger, though,” Maggie murmurs when she remembers how to speak again, and Alex blushes an even deeper shape of red.

“Agent Danvers, you’d better go find your brother: he can’t be hiding from your inevitable revenge in a corner all day, he has work to get done.”

“Yes sir,” Alex nods crisply, and Maggie starts to follow.

“And leave Detective Sawyer here. I’m always happy when you are, Alex, but my ears have had quite enough for one morning.”

Opposites attract- Jughead x Reader

Request: “Could you maybe do an imagine where Jughead falls for a really positive, popular, smart girl and because of theirs contrasting personalities they run into conflict before realizing they actually compliment each other perfectly? Thanks so much and I love what you’ve written so far!!”

A/N: I loved this idea! I tried not to make it too similar to what happened with Jughead and Betty but it ended up kinda similar, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Jughead and reader are complete opposites which puts strain on their relationship when she invites him to a pep rally.

Warnings: None

Word count: 1'857


Y/N Y/L/N. The golden girl of Riverdale. A straight A student, Rivervixen and friend to all. These were titles you had become accustomed to. You were popular, but not because people feared you like they did Cheryl, or because they idolised you like Veronica. You were popular because you were kind and funny and caring, and because nobody had a bad word to say about you. It was because of this that you were the sweetheart of Riverdale high. Many called you the perfect ‘Girl next door’ which you hated, but unfortunately were used to hearing.

Jughead Jones. The damaged, loner, outsider from the wrong side of the track. An introvert and writer for the Blue and Gold, somewhat obsessed with the murder of the late Jason Blossom, who sat tirelessly in Pop’s diner until the early hours of the morning, working on his novel. And of course, never seen without his signature grey beanie.

Jughead and you were polar opposites, yet there was something about you that drew him in, like a moth to a flame. He admired your goodness and innocence, despite all the secrets and lies Riverdale and everyone in it seemed to hold. He loved the way that you were always able to see the good in anyone and anything, which was something he had never been good at. Never had two people been more unalike, but this didn’t stop him falling for you, hard and fast. You and Jughead had met through mutual friends, and ever since he had been absolutely head over heels for you, and soon found out that you felt exactly the same way. As you had expected, people were absolutely flabbergasted when they found out about your’s and Jughead’s relationship, but you couldn’t care less. You were happy and that was all that mattered.

It was sometimes difficult for you and Jughead to find time to spend with one another. It was always either you tied up with cheerleading practice or school responsibilities, or him working on his novel or investigating Jason Blossom’s murder case. The two of you knew it would be tricky from the very start, but Jughead didn’t realise just how tricky it would be.

“Pop’s tonight?” Jughead asked, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as you grabbed some books from your locker. “I can’t tonight Juggie I have the pep rally remember. I’m really sorry.” You said, turning around to face him. “Oh yeah, of course.” He replied, sounding somewhat disheartened. “Hey why don’t you come? I’m performing with the Rivervixens, I would love you to watch!” You suggested, giving him a huge grin. Jughead’s face contorted slightly, to show his distaste towards the idea. “I don’t know Y/N, a pep rally isn’t really my scene.” He admitted. You frowned slightly, although you knew school activities were something Jughead wasn’t overly comfortable with, you still wanted him to come and support you. “Please Juggie” you whined “Kevin is watching too, you can go with him, and then we could go to Pop’s afterwards?” A long sigh escaped Jughead’s mouth as he rolled his eyes before allowing a small smirk to creep onto his lips. “Okay fine” he said in defeat “as long as you’re treating.” You smiled that bright smile that Jughead could never resist. “Yay! Thank you Thank you Thank you!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms around Jughead’s neck and peppering his face with kisses, making him giggle. “Damn it, why can I never say no to you?” He joked.

Kevin and Jughead sat in the bleachers, the rain soaking through their clothes. Jughead appeared very uncomfortable and had to remind himself that he was here for the sake of his girlfriend, as Kevin Keller talked his ear off about how 'dreamy’ Moose looked in his football uniform. You caught sight of Jughead in the crowd as you walked out in your Rivervixen outfit, ready to perform the routine you’d been rehearsing for months now. You flashed him a grin and waved with your pom-pom. He smiled back awkwardly making you chuckle, before you assumed your position to begin. The routine went swimmingly and once it ended you looked over to where you had previously seen your boyfriend. You couldn’t seem to spot him through the crowd, as the Rivervixens had once again evoked a standing ovation. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion as your eyes scanned the bleachers for him whilst trying to blink the rain drops from your long lashes. Nope. 'Maybe he’s just gone to the toilet or something’ you thought, but your thoughts were interrupted by your friends; Betty and Veronica. “Well done Y/N you killed it girl, as per usual!” Veronica stated, embracing you tightly. “Thanks V, you too.” You told her, and you were ushered over to sit on the front seat of the bleachers beside her and Betty and the rest of the Vixens.

The game finally came to an end, the Bulldogs taking the lead at the last minute, thanks to none other than your friend; Archie Andrews. Everyone shot out of their seats to congratulate him and the rest of the team on their big win. You on the other hand were still curious to where your boyfriend Jughead could have disappeared to. You tried your hardest to find him, but the now pounding rain and excited crowd made it almost impossible. You spotted a mop of ginger hair in the crowd and made your way over. “Congrats Arch!” You said, throwing your arm around the proud Bulldog. “You haven’t seen Jughead, have you?” You asked, Archie began to shake his head slowly. “Nope, don’t think so, sorry Y/N.” You congratulated him once more before searching the crowd again, looking for Jughead but instead bumping into Kevin. “Y/N you were amazing!” He mused enthusiastically. “Thanks Kev, erm, do you know where Jughead is?” Kevin’s face dropped from his usual smile to a much more serious face, making your heart drop into the bottom of your sneakers. “Just before you finished your routine he just got up and left, without a word. I’m sorry Y/N I tried to stop him!” Kevin told you. A frown found it’s way onto your face, making you feel somewhat hurt that you boyfriend had somewhere more important to be. “Oh ok” you said, your eyes finding the ground. “Well I suppose I better go find him, I’ll see you later Kev.” You said, giving him a half hearted smile and turning to run in the direction of the one place you knew Jughead would be.

You stepped through the heavy metal door, surrounded by bright lights, into the familiar warmth of Pop’s diner. The place had a familiar smell in which you found comfort, and the soft music that played from some invisible speaker was always relaxing. You spotted Pop at the desk and stepped over to him. “Hey Pop, has Jughead been by tonight?” You questioned. He pointed his pen to Jughead’s usual table in the corner where you could just make out a figure leaning against the window. “He’s been here for the last couple of hours. Hasn’t even been writing tonight, just sitting.” You thanked Pop and walked over slowly to see clear as day, Jughead Jones sitting at the table, his beanie-less head resting against the window, a small cup of black coffee on the table in front of him. He must have sensed your presence, or seen you out of the corner of his eye as he turned his head to see you, before turning back to fix his gaze to his coffee cup. You sighed, the concern inside you growing even more. “Jug what’s going on?” You asked him gently, sliding into the booth beside him. He stayed silent for a few seconds and you thought maybe he was giving you the silent treatment, before he mumbled. “I’m sorry Y/N.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Sorry? Sorry for what?” This made him raise his head finally, to look at you again. “Sorry I left” his voice was somewhat raised this time which you had not expected. “I watched you out there and it just made me realise how different we really are. It’s not going to work out and we both know it!” He told you, causing your breath to catch in your throat. “W-what?” You muttered. “Come on Y/N. Why are we even trying? You’re the golden girl who everybody loves, who dances at pep rallies and gets straight A’s. I’m the loner with a dead beat dad who came from the wrong side of the track. Who are we trying to kid here? How long can this really last?” You weren’t sure where this outburst came from, but it sounded like something that Jughead had been thinking about for a very long time. “Has it ever occurred to you just how different we really are?” He said, lowering his voice this time, in fear of attracting attention to you both. His words hurt, and you couldn’t pretend otherwise. A single tear slipped down your cheek, and Jughead realised this was the first time he’d ever seen you cry. You’d always been so positive, so happy, and he hated that he’d been the one to hurt you.

You were almost speechless, but managed a small “But I love you Jug.” Your voice sounded so small and so weak as you imagined a life without Jughead in it. The thought was almost unbearable to you. “I don’t care about any of that, I love you.” You said again, and this time your hands made their way to either side of Jughead’s face. His eyes closed and you could see that he too was trying to hold back tears. His hand found its way up to yours, and he let out a shaky breath. “I can’t wake up every morning wondering why you’re with me, or worrying that you’ll leave me one day for a member of the football team. Someone who watches your pep rallies, and takes you to school dances.” He admitted. Your heart suddenly shattered as this boy revealed to you his insecurities and fears. You realised that he hadn’t been saying all this to upset you, but because he was scared of losing you.

“Jughead why can’t you see that none of that matters to me. You’re my boyfriend and I want to be with you!” You told him, and you noticed the smallest smile creep onto his face. You pulled his face closer to yours and pressed your lips to his for a chaste kiss, before placing your forehead against his. “I’m so sorry Y/N. I’m just scared of losing you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I just got scared you know.” He admitted. You have him a sympathetic look. “I love you Jughead Jones, no difference between us is going to change that.” You buried your head into his shoulder, your hands intertwined beneath the table. “I love you too Y/N, and you know what that say, opposites attract.”

A/N: Don’t forget to send me your requests guys!!