i am just staring at him

penguings-and-sherlock  asked:

Could you do 192 with Kenny Omega? I've been crushing on him and Marty big time lately!

“ What did you just say?” Kenny asked, mouth a jar as he stared at you not believing what he just heard. 

“ I love you. I do. I am hopelessly in love with you, Kenny Omega” He closed his mouth and opened and pointed to his chest standing in shock. You are worried that he didn’t feel the same way or make you regret saying those three words to him.

But then a smile lit on his face making you relax. 

“ Are you sure?” He asks. You nod, “ Positive” he made his way over to you embracing you in a hug before picking up twirling you around. You squeal holding onto his shoulders before he puts you down. 

“ I love you too” 

Scavenger Hunt

Stiles/Derek, T, 2500 words, Meet Cute AU

Written for the following prompt:

“i picked up your bag at the airport but i can’t find your number so i’m about to embark on the largest scavenger hunt of all time by using your strange belongings to track you down” au

“Honey, I’m home!” Stiles calls out as he wrestles his roll bag over their entry mat.

“That’s still not funny,” Scott says, without looking up from his textbook.

“Once again, we disagree.”

Scott snorts. “How was the trip?”

“Fine,” he says, plopping down right in the middle of the living room to start unpacking. “Typical conference. Some sessions were actually interesting, most were boring as shit.”

Scott hums, already absorbed again in his reading. Stiles reaches for the zipper on his suitcase but then freezes—this is definitely the same brand as his suitcase, but he doesn’t remember this extra zippered pocket on the top.

“Oh, shit.”

“What?”

Stiles grimaces. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t my suitcase. Goddamn it.”

Scott finally looks up, frowning. “Shit, really? How’d you manage that?”

“It was a redeye,” Stiles says, running a hand through his hair. “I was exhausted, in fucking LaGuardia, and I was just trying to get out of there as fast as humanly possible.”

“Is there a name on it? Are you sure it’s not yours?”

“Pretty sure,” Stiles says, feeling around the sides for the pocket. He sighs when he pulls out the little card and sees that it’s blank. “Motherfucker. This is definitely not my suitcase because I’m actually smart enough to put my name on it.”

“Sorry, man,” Scott says sympathetically as Stiles falls back on the rug with an anguished groan.

“What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“Open it,” Scott suggests. “Maybe there’s something with their name on it.”

Stiles fiddles with the zipper. He’s nosy as hell, in general, and normally he’d be jumping at the chance to rifle through someone else’s personal belongings. But… 

“What if there’s like, dead bodies in there or something?” he asks, and Scott just stares at him for a second. Stiles rolls his eyes—that’s a perfectly valid concern. Or maybe he watches too many police procedurals, whatever. “Okay, fine.”

Stiles holds his breath as he slowly unzips the suitcase, but nothing happens when he lets the top part flop back onto their crappy, threadbare rug. There’s a Dodgers hat on top, and Stiles grimaces. “Well, they have shitty taste in baseball teams.”

He sets the hat carefully aside and keeps digging. The person is neat, whoever they are, because everything is folded, and all the dirty clothes are even all contained in their own zippered bag. At first glance, there’s nothing too out of the ordinary—phone charger, American Gods, Calvin Klein briefs. Fancy, he thinks. There’s a monogrammed leather toiletry bag (DSH, he commits those initials to memory), and he pokes through it.

“I’m gonna make an educated guess that it’s a guy.”

“Why’s that?” Scott says, finally looking somewhat interested in this mystery.

Stiles holds up an electric razor. “And that he’s maybe not totally straight,” he says, brandishing a little bottle of lube that’s about three-quarters full.

Scott rolls his eyes. “Lots of people use lube.”

“Yeah, but do you travel with it?” Stiles counters, and Scott sighs.

“No,” he admits. “Did you find anything with his actual name on it?”

“Not yet,” Stiles says absently. He continues to rifle through the bag until he’s pretty sure he has his plan of attack. “Okay. I’m gonna find out who it is,” he says with a determined nod, and Scott frowns.

“How? This is New York City! There are literally millions of dudes here.”

“It’ll be like a real-life scavenger hunt,” Stiles says dreamily, ignoring Scott as he carefully lays his three chosen items out on the coffee table. “This is awesome.”

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A cage of golden glass

Synopsis: There was you. An ordinary human girl, wrong place, wrong time. Then there was Loki. God of Mischief, war criminal. When Thor brings you to Asgard to ensure your safety, there is nobody else you come to hate more passionately than his evil foster brother. Then Odin finally decides on a new and much more effective kind of punishment for Loki, causing your whole world to fall apart. He would simply marry him off to a mortal, someone who is, by all means, “beneath” him. You.

Pairing: Loki x Reader
Rating: M
Chapter: 1/1 (Oneshot)
Words: 7217
Warnings: smut, forced marriage

Read it on AO3!

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anonymous asked:

in 2016 I went vacationing in Ibiza w my girlfriend. We were relaxing one day and this this dude sitting besides us in the parasoles complimented us &said "you two make a lovely couple". We thanked him but he kept staring, my girl got uncomfortable & bluntly said 'no we're not interested in a threesome.'. Dude started laughing & said "thank fuck" cause his bf wouldn't be too happy. He than said that he just missed his boy. We laughed it off & his friend told him to chill. (CONT)

(CONT) We thought nothing of it until two days later when he was taking fan photos & we learned that it was Louis Tomlinson. Mind you, I’ve become a fan ever since &am now in this dirt whole of a fandom being heartbroken bc I could feel the love he had for his boy & just wish he can share it with the world.

ifeelbetterer  asked:

Gotg prompt: how did Rocket learn to speak Groot?

“Repeat after me, Quill: I am Groot.”

“I am Groot,” Peter said dutifully. He felt like an idiot, but there were only a limited number of ways to while away quiet nights on the ship when neither of them could sleep. If it was him and Gamora, or him and Drax, they could spar, but he’d only tried sparring with Rocket once. It took weeks for the bite marks to heal.

Rocket’s oddly expressive – for a raccoon – face wrinkled in an expression of disgust. “Do you even hear yourself? That is nothing like what I just said.”

“Dude, that is exactly what you just said.”

“No, I said ‘I am Groot’ and you said ‘I am Groot’.”

“Which is … the same?”

Rocket stared at him for a long moment, then pointed at his snout. “Read my lips: I am Groot.”

“Was I supposed to repeat that, or …”

Rocket showed some teeth. Peter shut up. There was a moment of silence and Peter was just about to put his earbuds back in and quit with the language lessons when Rocket said suddenly, “Quill, if I say, 'I am Groot,’ just like that, what do you hear?”

“Is this a trick question? Especially the kind of trick question that’s gonna end in you pissing on my bed?”

“That was only once, and you had it coming –”

“Rocket –”

“No, for the love o’ cheese, it’s not a trick question. Just say 'I am Groot’.”

“I am Groot,” Peter said. “I feel like a complete jackass right now, in case that was your intent – hey, where are you going?”

“Jus’ need to get a thing!” Rocket’s voice trailed behind him.

Peter flopped back down in the chair in the mess and put his earbuds in. He was actually getting sleepy, and considering going back to bed, when Rocket jumped up onto the table in front of him with something clutched in his paws.

“What’s that?” Peter asked, sitting up. He palmed off the Zune and took off the earpieces. He had to hand it to Earth tech: the new music player was a lot more convenient to carry around than his late, lamented Walkman.

Rocket’s device was a thin, flat screen about the size of a hardback book; he had it clutched with a paw on each side while readouts rippled quickly across it.

“Okay, now say 'I am Groot’,” Rocket declared, studying the screen.

“Come on, man, do we really have to go through this again?”

“Humor me.”

Peter sighed and slouched in his chair. “I am Groot.”

Rocket’s ears pricked forward. “I am Groot,” he said, and tapped the display with his paw, causing the tiny, scrolling lines and numbers to freeze. “Did that sound the same to you?”

“Well … yeah?”

The flat pads of Rocket’s fingers danced across the display, and he laid the screen on the table between them. “Know what you’re lookin’ at?”

“Squiggly lines,” Peter said automatically.

“Did your mama drop you on the head a lot as a baby, Quill?”

“No, but Yondu did occasionally.” Peter rested his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. As much fun as it was to mess with Rocket, he did actually think he knew what the raccoon was getting at. “That wiggly line is some kind of … uh … noise – wiggle – curve, right?”

“That’s real precise.”

“I was abducted from Earth before we got to algebra in school. Cut me some slack here.”

“Excuses, excuses. I was raised in a cage and my mother had an IQ of 3.” Rocket touched the display, zooming in on it. “Point is, I don’t think it’s just that all a’ you two-legged bunch is too obtuse to understand perfectly clear speech –”

“Thanks.”

“– like I used to think. It’s more like, my ears hear at higher and lower frequencies than yours do, so I get different overtones. Put simply for the simple, I can hear things you can’t.”

Peter leaned forward, intrigued. “So, wait – you mean all this time, all his 'I am Groot’s sound different to you?”

He realized what he’d said as soon as the words left his mouth, and got the flat 'I am dealing with morons’ look from Rocket that he’d instantly realized he had coming. “How am I supposed to understand him if they don’t, Quill, I ask you?”

“Okay – point – but … so why does it sound like 'I am Groot’ to the rest of us?”

“It sounds like 'I am Groot’ to me too.” When Peter glowered at him, Rocket held up a paw. “No, I ain’t messin’ with ya. This time. No, that’s what the translation unit picks up, 'cause it ain’t so smart about some of the less humanoid languages. It’s just, I hear it like …” He hesitated and waggled his paw. “It’s like your music, right? All those up and down tones at the same time. Groot can do that. Your throat, my throat, can’t.”

“Singing?” Peter said after a minute. “Groot’s singing?”

“I refer you back to the part about bein’ dropped on your head.” Rocket pursed his lips and let out a sharp whistle, making Peter jump – there was still some part of him that couldn’t quite hear whistling and not expect a death arrow to follow an instant later. And he might not be the only one, because Rocket stopped abruptly, closed his mouth, and then said, “Quill, do this,” and hummed softly.

It wasn’t really a tune. “You just want me to hum?” Peter asked. “Like, generic humming?”

Rocket curled his lip and the hum became more of a snarl.

“Right, humming,” Peter said hastily.

The funny thing was, the instant his soft hum of response hit the right harmonics with the note Rocket was humming (and the raccoon did have a good sense of pitch; Peter had always suspected so) he understood exactly what Rocket was getting at.

“Ohhhhh. When Groot talks, it’s like a symphony. Is that what you mean? And the 'I am Groot’ part is the part in the human audible range.”

Rocket’s ears and tail went up cheerfully. “Yeah, ezzactly. He’s tryin’ to communicate, it’s just he didn’t get any farther than 'I am Groot’ when he was learning. It’s as hard for him to do the talkin’ part for the translators as it is for you and me to do his kind of talk. He can hear us just fine, though. Actually to him, understanding our talk is dead easy.”

“So how do we understand him?” Peter asked. “Can you, I dunno, juice up the translator so it picks up a higher range of frequencies, or something?”

“I dunno. That’s not a bad idea.” Rocket tapped his claw against his teeth before picking up the screen thing and hopping off the table. “Have to think on it. Don’t wanna explode your heads or anything.”

“Yeah, well, on that lovely note, I’m goin’ to bed.” He actually was tired enough now to fall asleep in spite of the inevitable nightmares (the bitter cold and darkness of space; Ego’s face dissolving in his hands; his friends crushed by rocks or blown apart). The music helped as it always had, a melodic bulwark against the dark, wrapped gently around his heart – but it could only do so much.

Rocket grunted absently as he trotted off, already engrossed in figuring out the problem.

The thought occurred to Peter as he wandered back to his quarters, thumbing idly through the songs on the Zune, that these sorts of mechanical puzzles served the same purpose for Rocket as his music did for him: something to make his mind go quiet.

The music did that … and so did letting Gamora beat the stuffing out of him in the ship’s small exercise area. Or getting language lessons from Rocket. Or –

“I am Groot?”

Peter jumped as small hands grabbed hold of his pants leg. Groot shimmied quickly up to perch on his shoulder.

“Hey, little buddy.” Peter opened the door to his quarters and left it open so Groot could come and go as he wanted. Or so he could hear if anybody got into a fight or whatever. He flopped wearily on his unmade bed, careful not to dislodge Groot. “You know, I’m not sure how much of this you can understand right now, but Rocket’s teaching me to speak your language.”

“I am Groot?”

“Well, to understand you more than speak it, I guess I should say.” He was lying on his back now and he couldn’t really see Groot except out of the corner of his eye, but he could feel the little tree shifting around in the hollow where the collar of his sweatshirt rested against his neck.

“I am Groot,” Groot said insistently, almost in his ear. Small hands patted at the side of his face and his earlobe.

“Yeah, yeah.” Peter pinched one earbud between two fingers and held it where Groot could get at it. The little hands took it out of his fingers. Peter settled himself comfortably as Groot squirmed somewhat ticklishly against his neck, and sorted through the songs. “How 'bout Elton John tonight, buddy?”

“I am Groot,” came the sleepy answer.

“You know, little guy,” Peter murmured, as the first strains of the music began to play and Groot snuggled comfortably against his neck, “whether or not Rocket can get his new gadget working, I think we understand each other just fine, don’t we?”

“I am Groot!”

Ink and Kisses

Anon said to moi:

“Omg i want a tattoo artist jungkook!!!!!! 😭😩 smut/fluff/and honestly anything!!!! I just love tattoos artists jungkook but there aren’t alot of those fanfic…. can u help a poor girl out ??💖”

FIRst time trying a Tattoo artist AU. I had to do some reading before this, and JK is sO sexy i s2g. Still weird that I don’t really ever feel like doing the do with him. HOPE YOU ENJOY <3 1,400 Words

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Tattooist au!

Part 1 | Part 2 (FINAL)

Originally posted by nnochu

No one would have ever imagined that hardcore badass Jeon Jungkook, the most well-known tattoo artist in the town, the guy who dropped out to follow his passion, was best friends with beautiful, sweet, top-scoring university student, Y/N. 

Physically, they seemed to be polar opposites. He had dragons inked onto his skin, three piercings on his left ear and two on his right, and always wore black; whilst you were a bright, clean slate – but you knew that was what he loved about you.

Keep reading

GoTG Meet Avengers


Peter stares, watching them all a little blankly. By his side, Tony has his head in his hands. He’s been groaning for the past twenty seconds.


“So… you went on a ten-year murder spree where you joined a terror organisation of your own free will in order to kill Tony, who wasn’t even responsible for the death of your parents in the first place- and then decide that just Tony isn’t murderous enough for you, and go for the rest of his team for some reason, too?”

Across the room, Wanda bristles. “It wasn’t like-”

“And then your team leader let you on the team you were trying to murder? Almost immediately after the one single fight you helped them with?” Gamora interrupts. Her eyes are cold and dangerous. 

Steve opens his mouth to defend himself, but Drax cuts in. “And you,” he gestures harshly at clint, “you were willing to abandon your family and get yourself arrested, just so you could involve yourself in a matter that did not concern you anyway?”

“You think I wanted to be arrested? That was all Tony-” Clint begins, but Drax roars, and Clint rears back, eyes wide and hand reaching for the bow at his hip.

“TONY STARK DID NOT FORCE YOU TO BREAK YOUR LAWS! I WAS PUT IN JAIL BECAUSE I FOUGHT FOR MY FAMILY, NOT-”

“Drax, stay calm. These people are breakable,” Gamora warns, although she is staring at them all as if she wants nothing better than to let Drax get himself worked up over them. 

“You know, Tony has only been giving you his view on everything that happened,” Steve counters. He’s looking at Tony like… like he’s disappointed in him, and that’s enough to get Rocket yelling angrily.

“Oh, so you sayin’ you didn’t tear the team he invested his time, his love, his effort into, apart- all so you could save a guy that Tony had offered to rehabilitate in the first place anyway? Or what about the fact you didn’t tell him that your best bud murdered his parents? That a lie too?” He snarls, and on his shoulder, Groot’s arms are slowly growing, pricklier and heavier- he can feel the weight on his shoulders.

“I think everyone needs to calm down, here-” Sam begins, but Gamora silences him, knuckles cracking as she steps forward.

Sam, wisely, takes a step back.

 “You do not get to talk- not when you chose to put your trust in a man you met for three seconds, whilst he was breaking into Tony’s compound, over the actual Avenger and team-mate himself,” she hisses, hands thrown up into the air as she turns to face all of them now.

“You sicken me. I may fight and argue and be frustrated with my team- but at the end of the day, they are still my family. They are still the people I would trust without a second thought,” she shoots a glare at Sam, “who I would always tell the truth to, even if it hurts,” Steve looked at the floor, jaw set in a grim line, “and who I would never, ever ask to be on the same team as a woman who subdued them to their worst fears and tried to kill them. I would rather die.”

She spat on the floor, and then turned away. “I am going back to the ship. You may continue your discussions if you must, but I am finished. I will only kill one of them if this continues.”

“That would be a shame,” Drax says quietly, his voice low and threatening.

Tony, who spent the majority of the conversation absolutely silent, speaks up at that point. “Hey! Drax used sarcasm!”

No one laughs. He goes back to holding his head in his hand.

Peter just looks slightly sick. His hand is wrapped very, very tightly around Tony’s.


“You know that post of text that Tony showed us a few weeks ago? He called it a… a me-me? With the breadsticks and the asshole date?” Rocket pipes up after a few seconds of silence, gun still spinning ominously in his fingers. “I think it’s time for us to shove Tony in our spaceship and say we have to go, right now, immediately.”


Despite everything, Tony lets a huff of laughter escape at that. Peter- seeming to suddenly snap out of his horrified trance- nods his head approvingly, beginning to tug on Tony’s hand. “Yes. I agree. Wonderful though this diplomatic meeting of teams was, I’m afraid we have urgent business to attend to. We have to… show Tony… something awesome.”

“Yes. LOVE, AFFECTION AND VALIDATION!” Drax roars again, curling an arm around Tony’s shoulders and placing the most violent and angry kiss possible on top of his hair.

“Later, losers!” Rocket calls out, sticking his middle finger up behind him and then turning to punch Tony’s thigh gently before scarpering back to the ship.

Groot hops down from Rocket and then latches on to Tony’s forearm, clambering up his arm until he was resting on Tony’s shoulder instead. Tony glances over at him and grins happily. He’s always had a bit of a soft spot for Groot.

“hey,” he whispers, as the tiny tree alien quickly began to grow a few flowers, and then plucked them off his hand and tucked them into Tony’s hair. “I am Groot,” he whispers right back in reply.

Tony smiles, rolling his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I know. Don’t worry about them- I left them behind a long time ago.”


Steve hears that. He looks at tony for a long time, his eyes a little sad and regretful.


Tony just stares right back, and then raises his eyebrows and shrugs, adjusting the beginning of the flower-crown Groot was making for him.

“Call me the next time it gets too much for you guys to handle,” he calls out after them, as Peter and Drax both steer him hurriedly back toward the ship and away from his old team.

Groot giggles on his shoulder, and then places another flower behind his ear. “I am Groot!”


“I agree,” Tony says, just as Peter nods his own approval, gently bumping their shoulders together. “Let’s go and play Space-Tag.”

(This started as a response to this post of @rcmclachlan‘s but immediately took on a life of its own and got so long that I think it would be rude/derailing as a response, so here it is as its own post, sorry about whatever this is.)

I’ve just decided that Yuuri Katsuki is the Hugh Dancy of photoshoots, in that every photographer meets him, goes slightly cross-eyed, panics, and starts throwing questionable props at him and putting him in ridiculous situations.

Yuuri Katsuki as Hugh Dancy drinking a mojito on a ladder in a pool for no reason.

Yuuri Katsuki as Hugh Dancy Not Knowing How Chairs Work

Yuuri Katsuki as Hugh Dancy In Eyeliner And A Collar


Yuuri thinks this is just how photoshoots work, don’t they?  It’s how his have always worked, anyway, he sort of assumes his photos always seem so weird because it’s just some flaw in him, that he’s so unattractive photographers have to distract from his terrible face and katsudon body with weird settings and poses and props. 

At some point Phichit tries to sit him down for a conversation about how he has to stop doing That Look at his photographers because it incapacitates them and that’s what leads to things like that photoshoot where he’s balancing a pumpkin on his head while a chicken stares at him.  And Yuuri is just all; what look, I am trying not to make eye contact at all, it’s the only way I can survive having so many people looking at me, why are there so many makeup people.  And Phichit has to explain that it comes off as gazing coyly up through your eyelashes, Yuuri, you were practically batting them at the poor man and Yuuri just wails I COULDN’T SEE HIM, YOU TOOK MY GLASSES AWAY, I WAS SQUINTING.  

Phichit just: that poor man, he thinks you’re practically engaged, please wear your contacts and stop accidentally making people fall in love with you, I am running out of space on my wall for photos of you not knowing how different kinds of furniture work.


What I’m saying is that when Yuuri eventually stammers out to Phichit that he’s thinking of having some, you know, *lowered voices*, boudoir photos taken for Viktor’s birthday, Phichit’s response is twofold.  

First: get him, Tiger.  Second: hire a lesbian who will not give two fucks about your Eros but actually understands photography. It’s the only way they will turn out actually-sexy and not you naked-but-strategically-draped-in-goldfish, standing en pointe in a Home Depot, for some reason, waving a box of crackers.

Phichit assumes his advice was followed when Viktor’s one and only social media post on his birthday is I AM DEAD. I AM DEAD AND MY PERFECT AND PRECIOUS HUSBAND HAS KILLED ME, RIP ME, MY SOUL HAS LEFT MY BODY, I AM ASCENDING TO A HIGHER PLANE NOW.

Then again, who knows.  That’s also the sort of thing Viktor posts on any random Tuesday if he caught a glimpse of Yuuri’s ankle during dinner or something.

Phichit sends Yuuri a thumbs-up emoji anyway, because he’s an idiot and needs all the encouragement he can get.

FACTS ABOUT CONNOR MURPHY (spoilers)

So I have decided to post all the facts and hints about Connor Murphy’s past that are shown in the musical. It’s hard to make out considering people in the fandom usually focus on the lies Evan tells to figure out Connor’s personality.

To get this conclusion (which I will post in a second) I literally skipped all scenes concerning Evan’s lies and went directly to the Murphy family and what they say. None of these facts/hints involve what Evan said about Connor.

First of all, I’ll say now that I have put my own interpretation on each of these facts.

And so, I will put all FACTS in BOLD.
Anything out of bold is my own interpretation and how I see it to be. It’s up to you to agree with me or disagree.

First, I will post my conclusions on each family member, and then afterwards, I will post the reasons for each one.

Zoe

Zoe was an emotional and verbal abuse victim. There is no evidence of physical abuse, although there were threats that could have potentially led to that. She has all the right to not grieve over Connor, in all honesty, she could have sent him to the police for what he did, but as an abuse victim, that is very hard to do. Connor was probably the cause of most of her insecurities and she hated him for that. The unhealthy habit of taking out his anger on the nearest person to him probably made him lash out at his sister whenever he had a panic attack. Judging by how he really did care enough to keep the creepy letter about his sister, written by Evan, in his pocket for 3 days before he committed suicide, it’s safe to say that he really regretted being mean to his sister and actually cared about her.

Connor’s mom, Cynthia

Connor’s mom was a woman obsessed with reputation. She’s known as the rich man’s wife, and wants more than anything to be a regular family. But because her son had mental illnesses, her perfect image was ruined. She acted as though she was there for him but when it came down to it, she did nothing. She pushed for therapy but after a while, her husband took him out of it because “it wasn’t worth the money,” and she basically went, “welp, I tried.” I will quote what I say later: Connor’s mom might not actually be sad that her son is gone, but rather, she’s ashamed that her family actually doesn’t care. It seems like Connor’s mom is filled with regret for not being there for her son, and she’s forcing her family to act like they regretted it too, because that’s what a real family should have been like. But this is only a personal theory.

Connor’s dad, Larry

Connor’s dad might be one of the main sources of his depression. It is very obvious to me that Connor’s dad believed him to be a disappointment. He didn’t grieve for his dead son and only played along to make his wife happy. He’s annoyed by the whole situation. It even seemed like he hated the fact that there was fake remnants of his son in Evan. Almost like he wished Connor wasn’t friends with Evan so he could just forget all about him and not need to deal with it. At some point he was a kind father. When they went to the orchard together for picnics, it seems like they were a happy family. Connor’s dad had played with their toy plane together and had some great memories. The whole family practically forgot about this, though. Connor’s dad didn’t cry at his own dead son’s funeral. I think that sums it up.

Connor Murphy

Connor was a complicated person. He had many different mental illnesses. I could research which ones he probably had, but there’s probably already a post somewhere on it already. One thing for sure, is that he was unstable. He might not have been like that his whole life, but at the time of knowing him, the time he was briefly alive in the show, he was incredibly unstable. Everything and anything could set him off, and he probably hated that about himself as well. Pushing away everyone near him that could possibly help and hating himself for doing so, spiraling himself into a closed minded world of self-hate and regret, which is something that many people can relate to, including me. He did a lot of horrible things to his sister and to his family. I don’t blame his family for not actually grieving him, he was a really bad person. The problem is, he could have been a good person as well. He had all the potential to get better. He talked to Evan, probably wishing to say sorry about pushing him earlier in the hall. He was trying, he wanted to try. He wanted to get better. He just gave up too soon.

This post is very long! I’m sorry. If you’d like to read more, I’m putting the reasons I’ve come to these conclusions under the cut.

Remember, ALL FACTS ARE IN BOLD. Anything else is my personal interpretation.

Keep reading

Ever Since New York

Originally posted by riverdaleselite

Check the Ever Since New York Masterlist for series updates!

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: After his junior year, Jughead goes to New York for a writing internship.  

Warnings: some swearing, you might cry

Word count: 4,574

A/N: umm first of all thank you for 7000 followers?? holy crap. anywho wowowow this is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written. It’s based off of the song “Ever Since New York” from Harry Styles’s album (which I love btw).  This is probably my favorite thing I’ve ever written tbh. Hope you all enjoy!


Tell me something, tell me something
You don’t know nothing, just pretend you do

After years of saving the money he earned at the Twilight Drive-In and other odd jobs, Jughead finally had enough to buy a plane ticket to New York.  He had discovered a writing internship there that he knew he had to do. It didn’t take much effort to convince his dad to allow him to go; in fact, FP even offered to pitch in some money. Jughead refused, claiming that he wanted to do this all on his own.  He wanted to deserve this internship as much as possible.

He started talking to Veronica frequently, asking her about her time in New York.  She, of course, gladly answered all of Jughead’s questions.  She was glad to finally bond with her boyfriend’s best friend.  

Jughead also pestered Betty with questions, seeing as she had done an internship similar to his two summers ago.  It was a bit awkward at first, since the two of them used to date.  However, they both got over their awkwardness for the sake of preparing Jughead for his internship.

“It’s really amazing,” Betty told him.  “It’s a great experience, and you’ll learn so much.”

“What are other people like?” Jughead inquired.  “Are they pricks?”

“Sometimes,” Betty laughed. “It depends.  Do you know how many other people are participating in the internship?”

“Just one,” he answered, shrugging.  “I don’t know who it is though.”

“Well, if they’re a jerk then that’s gonna suck,” she offered.  “But if they’re nice, they may become one of the closest friends you’ll ever have.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Betty replied and nodded.  “You’re gonna spend all summer with this other person.  They’re either gonna drive you up the wall or become your new best friend.”

I need something, tell me something new
Choose your words, ‘cause there’s no antidote
For this curse, oh, what’s it waiting for?
Must this hurt you just before you go?

“Have fun in New York, Jug.” FP patted his son on the back as they stood at the airport gate.  Betty, Veronica, Archie, Fred Andrews, and Kevin stood behind FP, all wearing supportive smiles.  Jughead glanced around at the group who followed him to the airport, filled with admiration of his friends and family.

“Thank you guys,” he said, fighting back a giant grin.  “You didn’t all have to come, though.”

“Of course we did,” Fred Andrews argued.  “We’re not gonna see you all summer, Jughead.  We have to give you a proper send-off.”

“Well, proper send-off achieved,” Jughead laughed.  He watched as others in the line began to move.  “I guess I should go now.  Thanks for this.  See you all in August.”  As he turned on his heel and walked away, the group of six gleefully waved at Jughead’s retreating figure.

“You aren’t worried about Jughead all alone in a giant city?” Fred asked FP as they exited the airport.

“Nah,” FP responded, waving his hand.  “He’s a smart kid, he’ll find his way.”

Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know

“Hi, I’m Jughead Jones,” he introduced himself at the front desk.  “I’m here for the writing internship.”

The lady sitting behind the desk glanced up at Jughead.  “Ah, yes! We’ve been expecting you, Mr. Jones!” she exclaimed, standing from her chair.

“Oh, am I late?” Jughead inquired.  

The lady shook her head. “Oh no, not at all.  Your counterpart just got here early, so we’ve been waiting for you to start.”

“My counterpart?”

“Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” she gestured to a girl sitting on a chair against the wall, flipping through a magazine.  The girl perked up when she heard her name, and saw Jughead and the receptionist staring at her.

“Is this him?” (Y/N) questioned, standing up and setting the magazine down.  Jughead noticed it was a TIME magazine.  

“Yes,” the receptionist answered.  “(Y/N), this is Jughead Jones.”  Jughead stuck his hand out to shake, and (Y/N) firmly shook his hand.

“I hope you’re not an asshole,” she blatantly said as they released hands, “because we’re gonna be stuck with each other all summer.”

“I was thinking the same thing about you,” he quipped.  

(Y/N) raised her eyebrow in interest.  “Quick-witted,” she noted with a smirk forming on her face.  “I like it.”

“You better,” Jughead fired back, biting back a grin.  “Like you said, we’ll be around each other all summer.”

“If we were together any longer, I’d worry about you falling in love with me,” she jokingly warned. “So be careful.”

Brooklyn saw me, empty at the news
There’s no water inside this swimming pool

“When’d you get here?” (Y/N) asked as she and Jughead exited the building, their first day of the internship finished.

“Two days ago,” Jughead answered with his hands in his pockets.  “What about you?”

“Last week.”  Her pace was quick, and she seemed determined to get somewhere.  “Are you hungry?  Because I’m starving.”

“I would love some food,” Jughead almost moaned at the thought of food.  He was only able to scarf down a small lunch in the midst of the business.

“I know this great burger place,” (Y/N) explained as she led the way to the restaurant.  “It’ll make every other burger you’ve ever eaten seem like a pile of shit on a bun.”

“I doubt that,” Jughead scoffed.  “There’s a diner where I’m from that makes the best burgers you’ll ever eat.”

“Where are you from?”

“Riverdale,” he said. “Pop’s diner, that’s what it’s called. If you ever find yourself in Riverdale, stop by Pop’s.  Trust me, you’ll thank me.”

“Well we’re not in Riverdale right now, Jughead Jones,” (Y/N) reminded him.  “So you should thank your lucky stars that I am your counterpart, because I’ve been here for the past week. You know what I’ve been doing for that week?  Exploring, Jones.  I have tried and evaluated twenty-one restaurants, and I know where to go for whatever you’re craving.”

“What if I’m craving Korean food?” he quizzed.

“32nd street, there’s a great Korean grill,” she immediately responded.

“Ethiopian?”

“There’s a quaint little place on 135th street.”

“What if I want to get wasted?” Jughead smirked.

“There’s a club a couple of blocks away with shitty security,” (Y/N) answered with a smirk equally as wide.  “Or maybe I was just an exception, seeing as how attractive I am.”

“I think you overestimate yourself,” he scoffed, playfully rolling his eyes.  

(Y/N) lightly slapped him on the arm.  “I do not!” she retaliated.  

“Whatever, keep lying to yourself.”  Jughead quickened his pace, leaving (Y/N) behind him.

“Hey!” she called out, rushing to catch up to him.  “You better not leave me!  You don’t even know where you’re going.”

“You’re still here,” he noted, casually wrapping his arm around her shoulders.  “Lead the way, (Y/N).”

Almost over, had enough from you
And I’ve been praying, I never did before

“God, this food sucks,” (Y/N) whispered, gesturing towards the plates of Japanese food sitting in front of her and Jughead.  “That place we ate at last week was so much better.”

“True,” Jughead agreed with a mouthful of food.  “But this place is cheaper.”

“Rightfully so!” she exclaimed, jabbing at her tofu with a chopstick.  Jughead silently laughed and shook his head, continuing to eat his fried rice.  He watched as (Y/N) picked at her dish, examining each aspect of the meal.  

It had been three weeks since their internship had begun, and Jughead and (Y/N) quickly became close friends.  They bonded over the overwhelming amount of work at their internship and their food-discovering adventures.  Jughead didn’t know how he would’ve survived an entire summer in New York without (Y/N) by his side.  They even stayed at the same hotel, so during a sleepless night, one would wake the other and stay up all night talking.  On those nights, they would drink hot chocolate.

“I’ve got the check tonight, Jug,” (Y/N) said, snapping Jughead out of his thoughts as she took the bill from the waitress.  Jughead furiously shook his head.

“No, (Y/N), you got dinner yesterday,” he protested, reaching out towards the bill.  “I’ll cover it tonight.”

“You got lunch!” she exasperatedly exclaimed.  “I can handle it.  Dinner wasn’t even expensive last night or tonight.”  

Jughead huffed as the waitress returned and took (Y/N)’s money.  “Fine,” he pouted, “but we’re gonna go out for desert, and I’m paying for it.”

“Fine.”

“Ice cream?” Jughead offered, standing from his chair.  (Y/N) followed suit, and they exited the diner.  She slowly grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers.

“I’m feeling frozen yogurt tonight,” she countered his offer, grinning up at him.

“What’s the difference?” Jughead playfully scoffed, trying not to blush at their hand-holding.  They had started doing it last week after he almost lost (Y/N) in a giant mass of people.

“I swear to God, Jug, you said the same thing last week, and I explicitly explained it to you.”  (Y/N) rolled her eyes.  “Ice cream is-”

“Made with cream, whereas frozen yogurt is a yogurt-based treat,” Jughead quoted what (Y/N) had told him last week.

“I knew you paid attention to me.”

Understand I’m talking to the walls
I’ve been praying ever since New York

In the middle of the night, the phone started ringing.  Jughead, still half-asleep, answered it with his eyes remaining shut.  

“You can come over,” he said, not waiting for the caller to initiate the conversation.

“Okay,” (Y/N)’s quiet voice responded, and she hung up.  A few moments later, a soft knock resonated through Jughead’s hotel room.  He rolled off of his bed, throwing on a t-shirt, and opened the door.  (Y/N) stood in the doorway, slightly shaking.  

“You cold?” Jughead murmured.  (Y/N) wordlessly nodded.  He gently grabbed her arm and led her inside, shutting the door behind them.  He stripped the blanket off from his bed and draped it over her shoulders, wrapping (Y/N) in the soft white material.  (Y/N) smiled up at him.

“Why do you put up with me?” she asked, sitting on his bed.  Jughead mimicked her actions and sat next to her.

“What do you mean?” he questioned, furrowing his eyebrows.

“How are you not sick of me?” she elaborated.  “I mean, we’ve been constantly hanging out for, what, a month and a half now?  You know if I’m annoying you, you can just tell me. I’ll back off.”

“Why would you annoy me?” he asked, slowly wrapping his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap. “You’re the best part about this internship.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“I’m not,” Jughead lightly laughed, slightly nudging her.  “I’m serious, (Y/N).  Before I came, I was asking my friend Betty about internships.  She did one two years ago, so she knew what she was talking about. She told me that the people I’ll meet during this internship will either drive me up the wall or become one of my closest friends.”

“So I haven’t driven you up the wall?” (Y/N) inquired with a tentative smile.

“Of course not,” Jughead laughed loudly this time.  A moment of silence ensued, both (Y/N) and Jughead overwhelmed by sleepiness.

“Is Betty your girlfriend?” (Y/N) broke the silence, staring up at Jughead.

“No,” he muttered, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.  “She was,” he admitted, “but not anymore.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing bad,” he shrugged. “Sometimes things just don’t work out, you know?”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) muttered. “I had a boyfriend.”

“Really?  That’s shocking.”

“Shut up!” she whined, elbowing him.  “Yes, I had a boyfriend.  He was actually a total dickhead.”

“How?” Jughead asked, growing concerned.  

(Y/N) looked up at him and giggled.  “Oh, you’re worried,” she cooed, placing a hand on his chin.  Jughead swatted it away.

“Sue me,” he retorted, but then grew serious.  “But really, what happened?”

“Nothing bad,” she replied, facing away from Jughead.  “We were dating for a while, and… I don’t know.  He never really supported me in anything.  He wasn’t nice to any of my friends, and I didn’t notice for so long because I was so fucking smitten.  Eventually it hit me one day, and I realized that he was horrible.  So, naturally, I dumped him.”

“As one does,” Jughead nodded, nonchalantly tracing patterns on (Y/N)’s right arm with his thumb.  

(Y/N) slumped and sighed. “What time is it?”

Jughead glanced at the clock with its blaring, bright red numbers.  “Three o’clock.”

“Jesus,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes.  “I should… I should get back to my room.”  She jumped off the bed and trekked towards the door, her bare feet dragging on the carpet.

“Wait,” Jughead commanded, grabbing her arm.  “Don’t go, it’s too late.”

“You say that as if I have to walk across New York City,” (Y/N) joked.  “It’s fine, Jug, my room is down the hall.  I’m not gonna get mugged.”

“No, but you may fall over before you reach your room,” he countered with a lighthearted smirk. “Just stay here tonight, okay?” (Y/N), too tired to argue, needed no more convincing as she turned around and climbed into Jughead’s bed. He laid down, patting the space next to him.  (Y/N) tentatively settled next to him, slowly resting her head on the neighboring pillow. “You can get closer than that, you know,” he told her, amused by her unusually timid nature.  She hesitantly scooted closer to him, until she was near enough for Jughead to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her against his chest.  “That’s better,” he whispered into her hair.  She draped one arm around his torso, the other arm tucked under their now-shared pillow.

“Night, Jug,” she murmured, eyes already closed.  He smiled at her.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know

“Oh, Jughead, how is it?” Betty eagerly asked, her face displayed on his laptop screen.  

“It’s been great,” Jughead answered.  

“What restaurants have you tried?” Veronica questioned from her spot next to Betty.

“A bunch,” he vaguely replied.  “(Y/N) is attempting to try every restaurant in New York City.  I think it’s impossible, but she’s determined.”

“Who is (Y/N)?” Archie inquired, popping his head into the camera’s view.  

Jughead laughed, “Where do I begin?  She’s my ‘counterpart’ for the internship.  We’ve become very close.”

“I told you,” Betty grinned. Jughead nodded.

“You were right,” he admitted.  “Right when I met her, I… I don’t know, it just felt like something clicked between us. We’re inseparable.”  Betty’s expression slightly darkened, but Jughead waved it off as a bit off jealousy.

“Ah, you’ve got it bad, bro,” Archie laughed at his best friend.  Jughead rolled his eyes.

“It’s not like that, Arch,” he explained.  “It’s like Betty said, you grow really close to people when you spend so much time together.”

“But you don’t blush when you talk about them,” Veronica noted, pointing out Jughead’s dusty pink cheeks.

“You’re imagining things,” Jughead scoffed.  Betty, Archie, and Veronica shared a knowing glance.

“If you say so,” Veronica sing-songed.  Before Jughead could respond, there was a knock on his door.  A smile subconsciously grew on his face.

“Speaking of (Y/N),” he said, standing up and walking towards the door.  He opened it, and, as expected, (Y/N) stood there.

“Are we going or not, Jug?” she pressed, grabbing his hand.  “I told you the line for the rainbow bagels is super long.  I don’t want to spend all of Saturday waiting for one, even though they’re so fucking pretty.”

“I’m video chatting with my friends right now,” Jughead told her, gesturing towards his open laptop. “Can you wait like five more minutes?”

“Fine,” (Y/N) huffed, crossing her arms.  She stepped into his room, allowing him to close the door behind her.  She followed him as he sat back down in front of his laptop, resting her chin on his shoulder as she peered at the screen. “These are your friends?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “That’s Archie,” he gestured towards the redhead, “the blonde one is Betty, and that one is Veronica.”  (Y/N) smiled at Jughead’s Riverdale friends.

“You must be (Y/N),” Betty smiled.  “Jughead was just talking about you.”

“Of course he was,” (Y/N) joked, nudging his arm.  Jughead playfully shoved her back.

“So how’s it been? Three months with the infamous Jughead Jones?” Veronica inquired with a smirk dancing on her lips.  

“Well it hasn’t been three months quite yet,” (Y/N) corrected her.  “I’ve only gotta deal with this guy for two more weeks.” Jughead’s face slightly deflated as this realization hit him.  “Let me tell you, he’s quite the handful.”

“We know,” Archie laughed. Jughead opened his mouth to say something, but (Y/N) interrupted him.

“Shit, I left my phone in my room!” she exclaimed, standing up.  “I’ll be right back, Jug.”  She turned and faced the laptop.  “It was great talking to you guys.  I hope we can meet sometime!”  She quickly exited Jughead’s room.  Immediately, Veronica, Archie, and Betty bombarded him about (Y/N)

“She’s perfect,” Veronica cooed.  “She’s actually flawless, Jughead.”

“You lucked out, bro,” Archie told him.  “She’s a keeper.”

“She’s absolutely amazing, Jughead,” Betty smiled.  Jughead grinned and shook his head.

“You guys, I told you-”

“Don’t even go there,” Veronica interrupted him.  “That girl is absolutely perfect for you.  The way you two look at each other is… it seems like it’s from a fairytale. You two are soulmates, Jughead.

“She does seem great, Jug,” Archie agreed with her.  “I mean, I’ve never seen you like that with anyone.  No offense, Betty.”

“None taken, Archie,” she waved his comment off.  “They’re right though, Jug.  You never looked at me the way you look at (Y/N).”  Jughead couldn’t think of a clever retort.  “But be careful, Jughead.  Like (Y/N) said earlier, you two only have two more weeks together. If you haven’t done anything up to this point, you might want to consider whether or not it’s worth it to start something now.  Just ask yourself, is it worth the heartbreak that’ll happen when you have to leave her?” She pursed her lips as she watched Jughead’s face darken on her screen.

“Thanks guys,” he said halfheartedly.  “Really, thank you.  I’ll see you all in two weeks.”

Tell me something, tell me something
You don’t know nothing, just pretend you do
Tell me something just before you go

“Our last day!” (Y/N) exclaimed, prancing into Jughead’s hotel room.  After the video call he had two weeks ago ended, he decided to give her a key to his room.  “Our internship is over, and we have one last night to spend together, Jug.  Out of every place in all of New York City, where do you want to go, Jughead Jones?” she asked seductively, a coy smirk growing on her face.

“I’m feeling burgers tonight,” Jughead answered, trying to stop his expression from deflating.  “And then maybe we can get some cupcakes?”

“I like it!” she grinned. She grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the room, beginning the trek to their favorite restaurant.  “Jesus, I can’t believe it’s been three months already.”

“I know,” he agreed.  “It seems like my plane landed just yesterday.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) breathed. They spent the rest of their walk in silence, choosing to listen to the bustling New York traffic.  

The waitresses at the restaurant, at this point, knew Jughead and (Y/N) as regulars.  They didn’t even bother giving them menus, knowing exactly what each of them would order.

“You two are my favorites,” the waitress whispered as she set their burgers in front of them.

“Thank you,” (Y/N) grinned. “I’m sorry to say, but it’s our last day here.”

“Oh,” the waitress sighed. “Well, you two better visit.  I don’t know what I’ll do without my favorite regulars.”  She walked away, leaving (Y/N) and Jughead to enjoy their burgers.

“You know,” Jughead noted through a mouth full of burger, “I don’t know how you’ve tried almost every restaurant in New York City while becoming a regular here.”

“Talent, Jug,” she told him, wiping her mouth on a napkin.  “It takes a hell of a lot of talent.”

They finished dinner and went to their favorite bakery to get cupcakes.  On their walk back to the hotel, they fell into silence once again. It wasn’t broken until they entered Jughead’s hotel room.  By now, almost all of (Y/N)’s stuff ended up in here.  They found it easier, rather than constantly having to switch back and forth between rooms to grab their stuff.

“So that was our last day,” (Y/N) claimed, flopping onto the bed.  Jughead stood by the bedside, crossing his arms with an amused smile.

“Unfortunately, it was,” he nodded.  He jumped next to her on the bed, earning a shriek from (Y/N).  He swallowed as he stared at her, knowing what he had to tell her. “Do you remember what you said to me on the first day we met?”

“That I know where to go for whatever you’re craving,” she answered with a grin.  Jughead laughed and shook his head.

“No, the other thing.”

“I hope you’re not an asshole because we’re gonna be stuck together all summer?” she offered.  He shook his head again.

“Nope.”

“I called you quick-witted?”

“No!”

“What is it?” (Y/N) demanded, sitting up so that she was hovering over Jughead as he remained laying down.

“You told me that if we were together any longer than just the summer, I might fall in love with you,” he explained, sitting up so that they were face-to-face.  (Y/N)’s grin slightly faded.

“Oh,” she murmured.  “Yeah, I did say that.”

“You were wrong,” Jughead said, trying to keep his voice steady.  He slowly grabbed her right hand.

“Really?” she asked as her eyes followed Jughead’s hand.

“Betty told me to be careful,” he explained, “because we’re not gonna be together that long.  And she was right.  I mean, why would we risk an immense amount of heartbreak just for the sake of a blissful few weeks together?”  When (Y/N) said nothing, he continued.  “So I figured I could just suck it up and get through the rest of our time together and not say anything.  It was a good plan, but you… you ruined it.”

“Sorry,” she quipped with a small smirk.  Jughead lovingly rolled his eyes.

“No you’re not,” he laughed. “You’re not sorry, and you shouldn’t be. Within the three months we’ve spent together, I’ve grown closer to you than I ever have with anyone else.  Hell, my ex-girlfriend said that we were great together.”

“She did?”

“Yeah,” he responded, grabbing her hands.  “Jesus, (Y/N), I’m in love with you.  I’m fucking in love with you, and it sucks.  It sucks because I don’t know if I’m ever gonna see you again.  And this is gonna cause so much heartbreak, for me at least, and maybe you too.  I just… I can’t keep it from you anymore.  But I also think, deep down, you already knew how I felt.”  Tears clouded (Y/N)’s eyes, and her lips quivered as she quickly enveloped Jughead in a hug.

“Fuck,” she whispered into his neck.  “Fuck, of course I love you, Jughead.”  He pulled himself out of her grip and stared at her, stroking his hand across her cheek. They both leaned in, pressing their foreheads against each other.  Their lips ghosted over each other, only millimeters apart.

“If I kiss you-”

“If you kiss me, everything is gonna go to shit, Jug,” she interrupted him.  He nodded but didn’t pull away.  They sat there like that on his bed on a minute, (Y/N) sitting on Jughead’s lap with her arms around his neck, foreheads touching and lips barely brushing.

The tension grew unbearable, so (Y/N) closed the gap and pressed her lips against his, trying to express what she had been feeling for the past three months.  

Jughead, too, attempted to convey every pent up confession he had, wishing that kisses could speak. He wanted his hands, which were encircling her waist, to tell her how she charmed him with her wit.  He wanted his eyes, which were closed with pleasure, to tell her how beautiful she was, especially when she trudged into his hotel room at three in the morning.  He wanted his lips, which were pressed against hers, to tell her how much he loved her.  He loved her, he loved her, and he wanted to keep saying it for the rest of his life.

For the sake of oxygen, the two pulled apart.  They kept their foreheads resting against each other.  

“Everything’s gone to shit,” (Y/N) whispered, and Jughead burst out into laughter.  (Y/N) followed suit by giggling, and their still-entangled limbs caused them to fall onto the bed so that (Y/N) was laying on top of Jughead. This only caused the pair to laugh harder.  

When their chuckles finally died down, (Y/N) climbed off from on top of Jughead and laid next to him, resting her head on his chest.  She combed her hand through his raven locks.

“I’m sorry that I fell in love with you,” Jughead apologized, kissing the top of her head. They were slowly falling asleep.

“Thank you for falling in love with me,” (Y/N) whispered, eyes fluttering shut.  “It may have all gone to shit, but it was worth it.”

Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know

Jughead stepped off the plane and saw his dad and friends standing at the gate, excitedly waiting for him.  He didn’t say anything, he didn’t even bother smiling.  Immediately, everyone understood.  

While they were awaiting Jughead’s plane’s arrival, Betty, Veronica, and Archie explained to the rest of the group about (Y/N).  They told them about how Jughead spent three months falling in love with this girl, and they explained that they had never seen Jughead look so smitten before.  

“How was New York, Jug?” FP asked, taking Jughead’s suitcase from him.  Jughead shrugged.

“It was nice.”

“Good food?” he questioned, trying to get his son to open up.  Jughead nodded tiredly.

“Yeah, food was great,” he replied monotonously.

“And the internship?”

“Helpful,” Jughead responded.  “I think it’ll help me improve as a writer.”

“That’s good,” FP said, raking a hand through his hair.  “You had another person with you, right?”  FP noticed Jughead tense up at this.

“Yeah,” he answered quietly. “Yeah, I had a counterpart.”

“What was she like?” Jughead looked up at his dad.

“You already know who it is,” he replied, shaking his head.  “Who told you, Betty?”  FP pursed his lips.

“Yeah, her and Archie and Veronica.  But listen, Jug, you’re going to have your heart broken countless other times.  You’ll get over this girl,” he attempted to comfort Jughead.

“Dad, she wasn’t just a girl,” he protested.  “She was amazing and quick-witted, and I fell in love with her and then everything went to shit.  But the worst part is that it’s okay, because she loved me too.  She fucking loved me, and I kissed her, and now I may never see her again.”

“Well if you loved her that much, you may see her again,” FP shrugged.  “Fate is a tricky thing, son, but the universe seems to cooperate better if you love someone.”

Keep reading

Small Bump | 01

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader.

Words: 1,897.

Genre: Angst, fluff(?).

Summary: “Things you said when you were scared.”

A/N: I’ve decided to jump on the train and write these small drabbles based on various prompts as a way to take a break from my super long fics and have a different creative outlet. ALSO, highkey based on the song Small Bump by Ed Sheeran.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Marichat "don't be fucking rude" prompt (your writing is great btw)

Thank you anon! I am glad you like my writing ^_^ (I should be writing more stories, but I am sniffly and finding doing long form hard so i am taking a break by doing drabbles. Hopefully it will clear my head enough to finish the chapter I wanted to get done today!) 


WARNING: Some strong language and suggestive themes! You have been warned.


“What are you staring at?” Marinette cried at last, whirling in her chair to face Chat Noir who was mere inches from her face. 

“hold still, I am trying to count your freckles,” he said completely unperturbed by either her close proximity or her glowering expression. 

“Have you ever heard of personal space?” she hissed, “Don’t be fucking rude!” 

Chat blinked but showed no other sign of being deterred by her wrath. “I can’t count your freckles accurately from across the room, now hold still.” 

Marinette groaned but did as he asked, figuring it was easier to just indulge his insanity and get him out of the way then try to argue with him. She had no idea what had lead to Chat Noir’s bizarre visit today, or his sudden unprecedented interest in her life, if his non-stop questions earlier were anything to go by. 

“Are you almost done,” she whined, trying not to think about why she was finding his closeness so unsettling. 

“Just about,” he grinned, and her heart gave a traitorous little thrill. He really was unfairly pretty. 

“You have 27 freckles across your nose,” Chat said leaning in even further until their noses bumped. “And just for the record princess,” he said his voice dropping to a sultry whisper, “I am not fucking rude. When I am fucking I am extremely accommodating,” and before she could move he darted forward, kissed the tip of her nose and hurriedly ran away, laughing. 

The next morning Marinette trudged blearily into class. Her night had been restless, in no small part to the flurry of daydreams brought on by Chat’s parting comment. Even her icy cold shower this morning had done little to stop her wandering mind or flushed skin. 

“Good morning my bestest best friend who I know far better than Adrien know’s Nino!” Alya crowed as she dropped down into her own seat. 

“Are you two still going on about that?” Marinette sighed, dropping her head against the desk and wondering if she could try sleeping through class, or if she ran the risk of subjecting herself to another Chat-infused dream session. 

“This is the last day of our epic battle,” Alya said with feigned shock at Marinette’s disinterest. “I am going to 50 Euro richer before class even starts. Where do you want to go for lunch?” 

“What if Adrien wins?” Marinette ask, cracking one eye open and looking up at her friend.

“Eh, he gets to pick my next 3 articles on the Ladyblog. But there is no way he is going to win. He would have to get my question right- doubtful- AND I would have to get his wrong, and there is no way Adrien knows anything about you that I don’t already know.”

“OK,” Marinette mumbled. Closing her eyes again. 

“Ah the man of the hour and his supposedly hertosexual life mate,” Alya cried. 

“We like to keep our love free from the tabloids thank you,” Marinette heard Nino say and Adrien let out a light laugh.  

“OK Agreste,” Alya said, “my final question, to see if you know my boyfriend as well as I do-”

“He does, you’re gonna lose babe.” 

“Shut up honey.” 

“Just giving you a head’s up.” 

“What,” Alya continued, “Is Nino’s favorite childhood ice cream flavor?” 

“Trick question- Nino didn’t have Ice cream till you took him to get some on your guys second date.” 

“Damnit! Still, you haven’t proven that you are the most observant person in this little circle, you still haven’t given me my question. Despite your impressive line of questioning thus far, I defy you to come up with something about Marinette that you know and I don’t.” 

Marinette was glad her face was plastered against the side of her desk to hide her flaming face. 

“OK,” Adrien said mischievously, “how many freckles does Marinette have across her nose?” 

Marinette’s eye shot open. 

“You don’t know the answer to that,” Alya said warily. 

“Just answer the question,” Adrien said smugly, “or do you admit defeat?” 

“19,” Alya said nervously. 

“Wrong, 27. Looks like I win.” 

Whatever response Alya was about to give was cut off by Marinette’s loud, piercing scream. 


Four Sentence Prompts: 

Warning- I will NOT be taking repeat prompts! Only one drabble per prompt! (See the list here: http://baneismydragon.tumblr.com/post/159474846531/reposting-so-i-can-edit )

Dirty Dancing

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Hoseok (J-Hope)

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 5,242

Summary:  It’s the summer and all you want to be doing is hanging out with your friends. Your parents have other ideas and when you end up at a resort in the middle of the mountains, the only bright thing in sight is the dance instructor, Hoseok. If only said dance instructor didn’t seem to completely hate you.

Originally posted by jimins-bunss

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It’s not that the question has been bugging him, per se.

It’s more like…. more like…

Well it’s more like the question had been driving him up the fucking wall. And it’s not like it matters- at all. But Isak should know things about Even and Even should knows things about Isak. They should know each other. Because Isak is like 99.78% sure that Even and Isak are a forever thing.

So.

“Can I ask you a question?” Isak is sitting on the counter of their kitchen as Even meticulously scrambles eggs and tosses toast in the oven.

Even hums, throwing pinches of salt in the pan as the eggs started to form, “Yeah, ‘course.”

“Am I like…” Isak thinks of how to phrase it because he’s come to learn that shit doesn’t always come out of his mouth in the most elegant of fashion. He struggles for a hot second, before remembering that this is Even- who knows his lack of censor, “So like am I your first guy?”

Even throws pepper into the egg mixture.

Isak shifts uneasily, “Even?”

He takes the eggs off the heat and dumps them on to a plate. When there was no more to do, Even moved to stand in between Isak’s legs, “What brought this on?”

“Just curious.” Isak leans forward to brush bits of hair away from Even’s face, “It’s not like it’s super important… I was only wondering.”

Even stares at him for a minutes. probably debating his answer or whatever, “There was one other boy I was interested in. Before I met you. It didn’t end well. Or- like, it never really began? He didn’t…”

#relatable, Isak thinks, and then “Gotcha.”

“I’m glad it didn’t.” Even smiles, backing away from Isak and grabbing the plate of eggs, “Because now I have you and I wouldn’t give you up for anyone.”

Aww.

“What about you? Even continues, setting the table, “I was the first boy you were interested in, right?”

Record Scratch. 

“Umm,” Fuck his pitch is a little too high to be normal, “Well…”

Even glances back at him with raised eyebrows, “Wait really? I wasn’t?”

“I mean…” 

“Huh,” Even slides a hand through his hair, like he can’t decide on being amused or put out, “Do I know him?”

“Well….”

Even narrows his eyes, “Who?”

“Jo…nas?” Isak looked around, “Maybe.”

“Jonas?” Even blinked, “Like Jonas, Jonas? Oh fuck me.”

“I’d love to,” Isak said brightly, turning around and heading for the hallway, “We just gotta-”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Even’s arms come around Isak’s waist, “Jonas Noah Vasquez, huh? Curly haired bastard.”

Isak snorts, “You adore Jonas.”

“Yeah,” Even sniffs into his hair, “He is pretty cool.”

Isak tries to hide a smile, “…and hot… very hot.”

The arms tighten and before he knows it, Even is marching him to bed, “I’ll show you very hot.”

He did.

Angel in the Darkness pt.5

Originally posted by aestheticvbts

Summary: After a patient urgently pleads you to go and help a friend of his, you naively agree to it. Little did you know, that you would get more than what you agreed to, when he leads you to a brothel, to help a dangerous prostitute named Jeon Jungkook.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (ft. Jin, but not romantically)

Genre: Smut (M), angst, mafia!au, prostitution!au

A/N:This is a dark and filthy story! Graphic descriptions of sex (masturbating, etc), heavy dom/sub undertones, drug use, vulgar language use……(alot of smut comes in later) This is a mature read! You have been warned!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 



The bright sunlight behind the curtains, stirs you awake from your deep sleep. There’s a faint smile stretched upon your lips, as you feel as if you’ve had one of the best naps in the longest of times. Your eyes are still closed shut as you try to flex your stiff muscles; only you can’t.

As soon as you tried to lift your arms, you hit something very hard and muscular. Huh? That’s weird. You can also feel that your legs are entangled, and something wrapped around your waist.

You didn’t mind the feeling, as you were still too tired to process things, and because it brought great warmth, but then you heard it; a faint grunt. Your eyes instantly shoot open, and you blush hard when you realize you’re wrapped up into Jungkook.

His face is mere centimeters away from yours, and his eyes are still closed shut, indicating he’s still asleep. You can feel his hot breath, gently tickling your red face, as his hair is all over. You peer downwards and see that his left arm is securely wrapped around your waist, as both of you were laying down on your sides. His long, thick legs were clumsily tangled with yours, and you were finding it hard to breathe since you were so close to him.

OH MY GOD! WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?!?!

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Lava

Based off this video because I cannot stop laughing


It had started out as a simple enough dare, Dean and Cas would each get a total of 3 tries per person to try and “kill” the other by telling the other that “the floor is lava.” They would then have five seconds before they had to find a way to get off the ground and scream that the floor was lava to any unsuspecting passerby if there were anyway. There was no prize, not really. Dean just really wanted to beat Cas at something, and Cas didn’t mind if he got bragging rights.

Cas had been first, during a walk in the park between their two college classes on campus. “The floor is lava,” he’d casually said. Dean had not understood until he did, and at which point he only had 3 seconds left and nothing that he could use to get off the ground. Nothing, except, for a trashcan just up the trail. He’d made it with one second to spare.

“The floor is lava!” Dean screamed triumphantly, balancing precariously on the poor trashcan below him. He had managed to get into a crouch before the inevitable happened––when Dean went to get down back onto the ground and rejoin Cas he slipped and wound up wedging his butt straight into the trashcan. Castiel wouldn’t let him forget it for a week.

The next turn had been Dean’s, choosing to wait until Cas and he were on a grocery run to enact his plan.

“Hey, Cas,” he called the other’s attention while they were in the toilet paper aisle. 

“Hm?”

“The floor is lava.” 

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ummm … why was this video so cute??? why was phil offering up nostalgic stories from his childhood every 3 minutes? why were they so fond of the family bonding time? of picking childrens clothing for dab???? ive not felt true emotions during a sims vid in so long??????? ? anyway here r some thoughts:

  • why did they try to make bowling strike noises for 30 actual whole seconds
  • phil dragging dan for not being able to read the word ‘mirage.’ good
  • the fact that phil kinda sorta equated the connotations of ’mate’ and ‘friend’ with ‘partner’ gave me heart palpitations ahhhhh partner is legit my fav word for what dnp are to each other and to hear it used in the same context as phil’s cheeky use of friend/mate was v affirming
  • apparently a typical dad move, according to phil, is stealing your child’s electronics. when phil got his first iPhone his dad took it and put angry birds on it? for some reason this is vital information to me
  • letting your child have cake on the bed is terrible parenting. both of them agree
  • when phil was a kid he had a toy where you rubbed its back and sparks came out. uhhh cute and also concerning
  • phil singing ‘fireman dan’ made me giggle and simultaneously forced me to reminisce on the fireman pic from their ‘dan and phil go to work’ calendar
  • the wholeeeeee bit where they’re looking through dab’s clothing choices made my heart melt. they are so supportive of eccentric fashion choices and they’re def going to be the dads that let their kids pick out their own clothes and support their choices and their individuality no matter what
  • omg 4:51 and phil saying, ‘you can make references that are old dan’ holy shit this bit. once again i love phil not taking dan’s shit and i love how fucking synchronized that god damn joke noise they make is, like they somehow made them at nearly the exact same microsecond??? and i have so many thoughts about this bc they both tend to make that noise when the other messes up or says something wrong or has a word flub of some sort, and it has always struck me as being something they use to dilute the awkwardness of that kind of misspeak??? like to take the attention away from the misspeak itself and draw each other out of the awkwardness of that moment by making each other laugh w this weird goose noise instead?? which is just??? fucking cute? i feel like in this instance the applicability was that dan didn’t have a retort to phil when phil stood up for himself so instead of just staying awkwardly silent he makes this goose noise (v slightly before phil does) as a way of being like lol this is awk i have nothing to say pls help me here and phil v instinctively/automatically follows as a way of joining in and being like it’s all good, you’re good, this is chill, pls don’t feel awk for not coming up w a witty response, and look now we’re laughing!!! and that’s the purpose that noise generally always serves them?? at least it seems that way to me, but idk like obvi i have no real basis for understanding exactly what the origin and meaning of this reflex is for them, this is sort of just how it seems from the many instances we’ve seen of them doing this. either way overall it’s just such a cute and  warm lil thing they do bc its so obvi instinctive at this point and a shared gesture that makes them laugh and i love it
  • phil wasn’t allowed ripped/distressed jeans when he was younger. those traditionalist lesters staying true to their colors
  • dan thinks phil could be a stylist wow that is like the height of praise coming from the dark prince of fashion himself
  • dan thinks its cute when dab is in the parental bed while phil yells ‘get out’ hahahaha
  • phil used to talk to the monster under his bed bc of course he did
  • ok omg the whole bit starting at 9:30. holy shit y’all. i’m baffled. they’re having what seems like a v benign convo about sleepovers during their youth and talking about the frustrations of having to sleep on the floor and dan says “the older you get, the more you’re like what the hell i’m so uncomfortable i wish i was just asleep right now.” and then wATCH HIM from 9:38 to 9:42 like what is he doing why did he follow up that contextually very chill statement with that intense stare into the camera and pointed sip of his water I’m SO confused. this immediately made me think about double meanings to that statement and the main thing that occurred to me was that it was an allusion to their separate beds,, that the older you get the more you value comfort when you’re sleeping over the fun of having a “sleepover with your friend” and one possible fix for that is sleeping in a separate bed to your “””friend”””???? idk??? am v open to other interpretations tho i have no idea, and like of course maybe dan is just being inadvertently cheeky but idk that jst seemed like SUCH an intentional stare and i am going to be kept up at night wondering what it all MEANS
  • dank brekkerini dan’s right i want to fight him for that
  • phil’s grandma used to cut up apples and sprinkled sugar on them depending on the activities they were doing wow why is his whole family quite literally the sweetest
  • phil correcting dan by pointing out that you could always cook a gourmet meal and dan’s only available response being “well … shut up” wow fucking shots fired
  • dan is incensed at the wasted breakfast bar. why is dan literally obsessed w breakfast bars
  • 12:56 another synchronized moment when they both say brayden in an obnoxious attempt at an american accent
  • i love that they are both immediately in agreement that the only reason to go to a bowling alley would be to play on the ddr machine fuckin nerds
  • martyn worked as a mascot at a bowling alley for his work experience prime lester family trivs. also cute ass mental image
  • their shared reflection about bowling with the bumpers up and the dumb toxic masculinity of teenage boys fuCK YES
  • editing mistake numero uno: they overlaid a backing track for tabitha’s bowling turn starting at 14:27 but then kept the music in for like a full THREE AND A HALF minutes omg (it plays on repeat until 17:57 lmao i was ready to click out of the video it was so annoying)
  • editing mistake numero dos: they do the exACT SAME THING with yet another backing track starting at 19:57 and continuing for like one min this time ugh omg (tbh its kind of fun to see such a blatant reminder that they’re just human beings who were either v jet lagged or v distracted by their fam vacay while editing this)

this video was good. i’m gonna go shower and continue to be haunted by that fucking sleepover comment and dan’s stare. good night 

(sims #40)

yondadudonta  asked:

TALK STARKQUILL TO ME I NEED

Their meeting was a little less meet-cute and a little more,,, meet-ugly sort of thing.


Mainly because they both read the situation very badly and ended up trying to kill one another. Completely accidentally, but.

Still.

And really, can you blame Tony? Their ship does crash-land in the middle of a crowded highway, and barely manages to avoid civilians. Then they pop out, and they’re armed to the teeth, looking pretty threatening and…well… alien.

People end up calling (what’s left of) the Avengers- which happens, at the time, to be Tony and Tony alone.

Except the Guardians crashed in Florida; when Tony got the call he was in New Orleans at a science convention, and the suit was still in New York.

But he went anyway. Suit or no suit, he had to try. He was the only line of defence now, after… everything.

So, armed with a sophisticated watch-gauntlet and a gun he always kept tucked in his jacket pocket, he takes the jet and leaves to try and stop them from potentially, y’know, annihilating the world or whatever.


Except things don’t really happen like that, in the end.


“Listen, what are the chances you’re gonna do as I say when I order you to drop your weapons and leave?” tony asks wearily, as he holds the gun at the biggest guy’s weirdly patterned face and the gauntlet at the woman holding the largest gun he’s ever seen in his life. He doesn’t even bat an eyelid toward the talking walking raccoon or… the tree…thing.

Just another day in the life, at this point.

Although it would be kinda embarrassing if he ends up getting murdered by the raccoon. What the damn hell would they put on his grave? Here lies Tony Stark- saved New York, but unable to protect himself from the dangers of the Mighty Raccoon?

As soon as he’d spoken, about 13 different weapons were pointed in his face. Which hardly made sense, considering there were five of them and they all only had two hands. But whatever.

“How’s about we ask you the same? Except more forcefully, considering we got all the guns,” the raccoon said.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Where the fuck would I go then, what with me being a human being who lives here? Just fling myself into the void of space? And yes, tempting as that might sound, I’ve been there done that. Not as appealing as I would have thought, to be honest.” 

The five stared at him in confusion for a moment, before what looked to be the only actual human stepped forward, head cocked. His eyes were bright and beard scruffy- Tony thought it suited him.

Tony also thought he should probably focus on the task at hand, and his ever-growing chances of imminent death, rather than how pretty his opponent was.

“You’re just a human, huh?” Hot Scruffy Man asked.

Tony raised an eyebrow, and then pointed the gun at him when he took another step. “What gave it away? The fact that I have the same composition and structure as every other human on the planet? The fact I look just like you, who is also a human?”

“Half human,”

“What was the other half, pure asshole?”

“Actually… kinda, yeah.” The Hot Scruffy Man paused, and then shrugged. “Daddy issues.”

Tony had a brief moment to wonder what the fuck he was doing before an involuntary snort of laughter had escaped out of him. “Yeah- rode that train before, buddy- still doesn’t explain why you’re on the planet I protect, waving your guns around at innocent people and causing millions of dollars worth in property damage.”

The team in front of him paused, and then the man looked back at the green lady, who just shrugged and put down her gun. “We were told there was an imminent threat to your planet. We were in the neighbourhood, so we thought we’d come save you.”

Tony stared at them, contemplating. “Where are your sources from?”

“The fine NovaCorps,” Massive Bulked Alien Dude spoke up.

Tony squinted, running a hand across his forehead. “Am I… supposed to know what that means?”

“Fancy space police,” Raccoon told him.

“You seen any apocalyptic aliens round here lately?” Hot scruffy Man asked him again, slightly confused now. 

Tony just sighed. “Nope. And if there were, I would handle them. You can go back…wherever you came from, guys, it’s fine, Earth is fine-“

“You? You’re gonna protect the Earth? With your fancy little handgun and hand-firey thing?” The Raccoon laughed, and Tony scowled.

Luckily, because he had been counting the seconds in his head since he’d called it, he knew he was about to do something really badass, and it wiped the scowl off his face, replacing it with a little smile as he stared at the stupid talking Raccoon. 

“No,” he said, shrugging as he heard the familiar whirring sound of metal moving at hundreds of miles an hour up ahead of him.

The aliens looked up, one of them pointing their gun at the source of noise, like it would do anything. But in the space of a few seconds, it had already reached its intended target, slowing down just enough to not vaporise his body and wrapping around him, every piece fitting in a way that made Tony want to give himself a round of applause.


“I’m gonna protect Earth with this,” he said, raising his two repulsors and loading them right in the Raccoon’s little face.


There was complete silence for a second, before Hot Scruffy Man made a noise that should really, for the sake of Tony’s sanity, be kept in the bedroom. “That was literally the coolest and most attractive thing I have ever seen ever. In my life.”

Tony couldn’t help himself; he smirked and cocked his head Hot scruffy Man. “Sweetie, I appreciate the sentiment, but you’re gonna have to keep it in your pants until we can sort this out.”

Green Lady sighed, and walked forward to smack Hot Scruffy Man around the back of the head. “You know what we talked about, Peter- no flirting with potential targets. It’s in bad form.”

“This guy certainly hasn’t got a bad form,” Hot Scruffy Man- Peter- nodded over to Tony and smirked.

Green Lady sighed, and then turned to Tony. “Listen. You want to protect your planet. We want to protect your planet. How about rather than pointing our weapons at one another, we try and… you know, do what we set out to do?”

Instantly, the smile slide off Tony’s face, not that any of them could tell behind the faceplate. “I work alone. Sorry. You’re gonna have to l-“


And that was when the world sort of exploded around them.


Without even thinking about it, Tony shot forward and wrapped his arms around the two closest to him- the Green Lady and Peter- rolling them to the ground and hoping that the rest of his team, especially the more flammable ones, were okay. Green Lady yelled at the sudden-ness of his approach, but Peter just sighed. “Here we go,” he muttered into Tony’s shoulder.

Tony was inclined to agree, there.




Half-way through the battle, Peter AKA Starlord AKA Galaxy’s Number One Asshole asked him out.

Tony looked at him for a good four seconds before he got tackled to the ground by… (Dracula? Dracker? He was having to learn the names on the go, and his mind was currently on other, more explosion-based things) the Massive Bulked Alien Dude.

“THAT IS VERY UNPROFFESSIONAL, PETER!” He yelled, before looking down at Tony. “Are you well? I thought you may have been hit with a paralytic beam of some sort.”

Tony nodded, and then sat up. “No paralytic. Just your team-mate.”

Massive Bulked Alien Dude nodded wisely. “He does tend to have that affect on people.”

“What? Endangering their goddamn lives on the field?”

Massive Bulked Alien Dude paused, and then shrugged as he rolled off Tony. “I was going to say rendering people speechless with his idiocy, but that too.”

“Hey, that’s not fair, I’m actually clever, Tony, I promise! Boyfriend material, right here!” Peter yelled across the battlefield, looking over to them and grinning as he shot an alien in the back of the head without even looking.

“You’re a god damn alien!” tony yelled back exasperatedly, trying to keep the smile off his face as he jumped high into the air and then landed on an unfortunate opponent.

“Yeah- think of all the new tricks I must know, then,” Peter countered, winking as he dived behind a car and then threw what must have been a fancy bomb over the bonnet.

Tony’s mind briefly short-circuited at that (Holy mother of God) astute observation- but he quickly regrouped and fired a repulsor at an alien attempting to sneak up behind Rocket. “I’m gonna need a few examples before I agree to anything, sweetie,” he replied.

Peter laughed and opened his mouth, but then the Tree hit him over the head. “Ow!” he complained, looking betrayed.

“I have enough issues dealing with one distracted team-member whilst in the middle of a battle, I will not be dealing with two! Cut the flirting out!” Gamora yelled, as Tony watched her utterly destroy two different aliens at once.

“She thinks we should be ‘professionals’ and ‘focus on the mission’ when we’re in battle,” Peter said grumpily, wiping a cut across his face and then shrugging. “I respectfully disagree.”

Tony had to cut the conversation short again in order to swoop up and laser his way into the main hull of the ship that loomed barely even twenty meters over the battlefield, but he still had the team in the comm that FRIDAY had patched him into. “So what about Monday? You sticking around until then?” He asked.

Rocket swore at them down the line, but Peter just laughed. “For you, baby, of course I am.”

“Good. I’ve got a meeting with… let’s call him an ex. Be nice to have an excuse to blow him off.”

Peter whistled, “Oooh, want me to sweep you off your feet and declare battle with him for hurting you? I’m always up for it.”

“Much as I would like to see that, he’s kind of peak physical perfection. Plus I’d rather just make out with you,” Tony admitted.

“That’s fair. I want to make out with me too.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yep- welcome to the Guardians- we’re all assholes here. You’ll fit right in,” Peter told him.

“I am GROOT!” Came a rumbling voice that Tony could hear even off the comms, and he looked down in time to watch the tree grab Peter around the wait and haul him, flinging him up in to the sky with a yell.

It was a perfect throw, to be fair to Groot. Peter’s momentum cut out just as he was level with Tony, who grabbed his shoulders and lifted his faceplate, just for a second, in time for Peter to plant one on his mouth with a grin and a raised eyebrow, before he began falling again, right into Groot’s waiting arms.


Through the comm, Gamora just sighed. “Idiots. All of you.”

Hard to Get - Thomas

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Thomas/Reader

Word Count: 9,016

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Kinky Thomas, Multiple Orgasms, Oral (both receiving), Bondage, Hair Pulling, Public Oral Sex, Masturbation, Thomas’s giant dick pressing into his jeans (cause hot damn we all know it does)

Notes: Some cute lil nonnie said they wanted me to write another Thomas smut. So kinky Thomas it is. Thanks @stilinski-jpeg @minhosmeanhoe and @dylan-trash-tbh for yelling at me to write this so much. Otherwise I would have kept procrastinating. I hope this is worth yelling at me so much. 

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