i dunno where this is from or when

anonymous asked:

Can you maybe do one where Richie is being abused by his parents and I dunno eddie finds out and tries to help him? Or is that too fucked up? obviously you don't have to do it f you don't want

Fresh bruises on pale skin.
Water leaking from his eyes.
“Don’t cry like a little bitch.”
The ghosts of hands still placed on his skin.

The next morning when he left for school, he pulled out a sweat shirt. Hoop up. No one needs to know. No one needs to see. He ran into a pole. That’s it. That why he still had glass in the cuts on his forehead. It was a pole.

Eddie didn’t notice the boy. He wondered where he was. Hoping he’d find him at lunch. He sat in the usual spot. A table near the back of the room.

Richie sat down and kept his head low. He ate quickly. Tried to ignore the feeling of chocolate brown eyes filled with worry boring holes in his head.

“Rich?” Eddie asked. None of the others were there yet.

“Yeah?” Richie responded not looking up.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m great.”

Eddie reached over and pushed his hood down. Richie froze. Curls fell out of their place and poked out in places like always. He looked up slowly. Traces of pain and marks of violence painted his skin. Except he didn’t smell like oils or pastels. He smelled like whiskey and reruns of bad eighties soap operas.

“Richie!” Eddie said with worry. “What the fuck?”

“I ran into a pole.”

“Yeah because poles are shaped like hands.” Eddie reached over and lightly dragged a thumb against his cheek. Still soft. “Who did this? Henry?”

Richie shook his head.

“Your dad?”

Richie shook his head again.


He nodded and looked down at the food. It was the only meal he was ever served. No one ever taught him to cook and he could never use the kitchen without his mother telling him to fuck off.
He picked up a fry and stuffed it solemnly into his face.

Eddie didn’t know what to do. So he asked what he could do.

“Nothing” Richie replied. “There’s not really anything to do except wait until I get into college and leave this fucking town.”


#Alec went from grabbing Magnus Bane by the lapels to cupping his boyfriend’s face when kissing him passionately #Alec Lightwood is wild as hell

OK no I’m sorry, but you do not “That’s an order!” him!

Like, ok I understand where Shiro might be coming from (Mental issues, brainwashed somehow, I dunno, I know Shiro is not fine) But how dare?? How dare?? Specially when Keith is making really good points! He like just broke Keith’s heart.

Because what does it tells Keith?? 

That all Shiro is telling him about what a great leader Keith can be is bullshit, that Shiro doesn’t really trust him, and that Shiro doesn’t see them as equals. That he still sees him as a trouble making cadet or something.

Shiro keeps telling Keith how he believes in him and yet he doesn’t let him lead, and this has been two episodes for us, but seems like it’s been months for them.

I bet Keith started to train with the BOM just cuz of Shiro’s attitude.

That’s why he looks so sad after they all hug…

He thought he found people who accept him and appreciate him and believe in him, but seems like he was wrong. So he leaves before they can really reject him. 

Shiro just kinda pushed Keith out of the team because he couldn’t handle the fact he wasn’t leader and Pilot of the black lion anymore. (And I understand why Shiro might act like that, but still..)

And Keith is such a precious boy, he still only thinks of Shiro’s well being the entire time..

Like none of this translates to him as “Shiro is being an asshole” he thinks it’s all his own fault, that something is wrong with him. 

You know what I find really cool about Static Shock in Re-watch?

It’s the fact that he’s such a fanboy for Black heroes.

I remember the episode where he meets Anansi, and he blatantly states that it was nice to see a hero who looked like him doing good. Because there wasn’t a lot of them where he came from. 

Here’s the dialog:

Static to Anansi in “Static In Africa”

Virgil: I never knew how important it was to meet a role model like you.”

Anansi: “Role Model?”

Virgil: “Yeah, a Black superhero. I dunno, it validates me somehow.”

Anansi: “Heroes come in every color my friend.”

Virgil: “I know, it’s just sometimes I wish there was a Black superhero back home for folks to look up to.”

Anansi: “Oh but there is, and he is my hero too.”

Notice how Virgil said “Validates” 

I remember the episode where Static not only admitted to being a Green Lantern fan (which was Fallen Hero) but he also admitted that sometimes he pretends to be Green Lantern when no one was around (and this episode was called “Jump”)

And then there was “Blast From the Past” where he met Soul Power and gained a huge respect for a Black hero (and his sidekick) who came before him. 

I know we all say “Representation Matters” but Static Shock actually showed why it matters, and showed it through the eyes of a superhero less.

And Dwayne McDuffie didn’t bother to mince words, or downplay Virgil’s blackness, or his need for validation through positive representation, for the sake of “colorblindess.” And it’s so nice to see that, especially now when we we’re older and more consciously aware of racial issues. 


Updated Johnny & Ghost Rider designs for Ghost Rider: Re-Imagined!!  These two were in sore need of a better cleanup job for their character references.

As a bit of a bonus, here are several other outfits that they might appear in!  …and a few you might not see them in. :V  Poor Ghost Rider.  Whatever Johnny’s wearing when he transforms, he’s kinda stuck with it…

Sober - Part 1/2 - Nessian fic

Summary: In which Nesta and Cassian get into drinking contests.

AO3 : Inspired by this prompt (”everything is fuck”)


Nesta threw open the curtains of the bedroom and was rewarded with a grunt from Cassian. After securing the heavy fabric, she turned to the bed.

“Cassian,” she said, a reminder that the curtains hadn’t opened themselves, and that he had responsibilities to attend to.

A muffled sound came from the pillow. Sheets were wrapped around his hips low enough so that Nesta said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t move too much. And another simultaneous prayer that he would.

“What was that noise?” she asked.

Cassian lifted his head. “Everything is fuck.” He threw his face back down dramatically, gripping the pillow as if it would save him from the way the sunlight invaded his senses, or perhaps it might serve as an anchor in a room that wouldn’t stop spinning.

“Everything is most certainly not ‘fuck’,” she answered. “The weather is perfect for training, which is where you should be right now. Stop lazing about and setting a bad example.”

Keep reading

Romanian Fun

Request: Hiii, are u taking request? If you are not feel free to just ignore this ☺️ could you do a Sebastian x Reader where they are in an interview about civil war or infinity war idk and he says something to her in Romanian (dirty or not) and he is surprised when she answers and Romanian because he didn’t know she could speak it

Pairing: Sebastian x Reader

Warnings: fun n stuff, language, hints @ smut

A/N: I get a little uncomfortable when writing for a celebrity. Like I’m fine writing for the celebrities characters that they have played in movies but when it comes to them specifically, I dunno. I don’t really know how to explain it.

p.s. all the Romanian spoken in this is from google so don’t come at me.

p.p.s. the ending insinuates smut so if any of want, you can write it and I’ll be happy to reblog :)

“Now let’s welcome our special guests, the cast of Captain America: Civil War!” you hear Jimmy Fallon’s voice and a crew member gives you a signal to start walking out. “Ladies and gentlemen, say hello to Chris Evans, Robert Downey Jr, Scarlett Johansson, Anthony Mackie, Jeremy Renner, Elizabeth Olsen, Sebastian Stan and Y/N Y/L/N!”

You all walk over to the couches and you end up sitting between Sebastian and Elizabeth. Once you all are situated, Jimmy starts.

“It’s such an honor to have you all here tonight.” He smiles.

“I was debating whether or not to come.” Robert says. “I was gonna blow thing whole thing off for pizza but Chris wouldn’t let me.”

The audience erupts in laughter and Chris shakes his head.

“Chris is one of those ‘keep-to-the-schedule’ type of guy. He keeps us on track.” Jeremy adds.

Chris chuckles. “I’m a proud, organized, team leader!”

“Woah, woah, woah, who said you were the team leader?” Anthony questions and you playfully scoff.

“Anthony, we probably wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Chris.”

The audience laughs again.

“You make a valid point, Y/N.” Anthony points to you while nodding his head.

The laughter dies down and Jimmy smooths out the front of his suit before leaning against the desk he was sat at.

“Alright, so, tell me about the filming…”

The interview goes on, everyone making jokes and laughing every now and then until the spotlight hits Sebastian.

“So, Sebastian, it’s no secret that you speak Romanian, correct?” Jimmy folds his hands on the desk as he waits for Sebastian to respond.

“Correct.” The brunette nods.

“Would you mind speaking some for us?”

“Right now? Oh, I don’t know I kind of-”

“Aw c’mon!” Jimmy then turns to the audience. “Do you want Sebastian to speak Romanian?”

The crowd goes wild with cheers and whistles and screams – even your friends are cheering him on. Sebastian lets out a laugh and tucks his hair behind his ear before nodding.

“Alright, alright, I’ll do it.” the crowd cheers again and Sebastian looks over at Jimmy. “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything. Say anything you wa- actually, I’ve just thought of something better.” He says. “Choose someone, anyone, and tell them what you’re thinking about this very moment.”

Sebastian smiles. “Alright, should be easy…” he pretends to think about who he was going to choose before shifting in his seat so that he was facing you.

“Oh boy, here they go.” Robert teases.

Now, there’s no doubt that something was going on between the two of you. Nothing major though, just flirting here and there. Your costars could sense the tension between the two of you whenever you were in a room with each other. You liked Sebastian and Sebastian liked you but nothing had come from that. Yet.

“Mă gândesc să scot rochia de pe tine chiar acum.” (I’m thinking about ripping that dress off you right now).

You breathe in sharply, the tone of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Ți-ar plăcea asta, nu-i așa?” (you’d like that, wouldn’t you?). He continues.

Sebastian scoots closer and drapes an arm around you innocently.

“Nu știi cât de prost vreau să te duc acum.” (you don’t know how badly I want to fuck you right now).

You gulp and look up at Sebastian who was smirking at you.

Glancing around you see everyone with their eyes on the two of you, waiting for a reaction from you. You clear your throat and smile at the brunette beside you. “Vom avea o mulțime de timp pentru asta după acest interviu.” (we’ll have plenty of time for that after this interview).

Sebastian’s eyes widen and his mouth falls open at your response all while everyone else goes crazy, cheering and clapping.

“It looks like you’re not the only one who can speak Romanian, Seb.” Scarlett smirked.

“He’s speechless, look at him!” Elizabeth points out and your friends burst into laughter.

Anthony waves a hand at Sebastian while trying to contain his laughter. “Close your mouth seabass, you don’t wanna catch flies.”

Sebastian snaps out of it and regains his composure.

“What did you say?” Jimmy asked, still trying to control his laughter.

Sebastian licks his lips, cheeks tinted pink as he steals a glance at you. “I asked her how her pussy was doing.”

Everyone fell back into laughter and Sebastian ran his fingers through his hair with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Sebastian!” Jimmy exclaimed while laughing. “This is a PG-13 show!”

“Wha- oh come on! I was talking about her cat, you perv! Get your mind out of the gutter!” the brunette joked.

Once the laughter died down, Jimmy moves onto the next topic. While he talked to Robert and Chris about their characters rivalry, Sebastian leans in towards you.

“You and me, after this interview, right?” he whispered.

You giggle. “You gotta take me out to dinner first, Stan.”

Sebastian bites his lip, ghosting over your ear. “You’ve got yourself a deal, baby.”

A/N: I just really love Jimmy Fallon o k a y

tell me what ya think!


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Some of you guys aren’t popping up for the tags :( I’m sorry.


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Pairing: Analogical (Platonic)

CW: Astraphobia (fear of storms), kid fic, doll photo (Einstein doll)

Logic was getting himself a glass of water from the kitchen sink when he heard it. 

He supposed it wasn’t surprising he’d missed it at first: though it was late and the interior of the commons was quiet, there was a storm rumbling outside in the mindscape, and the combined sounds of the thunder and the rain had effectively masked the quiet sobbing before. 

But he could hear it now. He frowned, setting his glass of water aside and walking back into the darkened commons. There, he paused, listening, and–

A flash of lightning revealed a lump on the couch, hidden beneath the quilt. It was moving a little, and after the accompanying boom of thunder, Logic heard the soft, terrified whimpers coming from beneath it. 

He frowned, pushing his glasses up on his nose. 

“Who is there, please?” he asked clearly and carefully. 

The blankets froze and the sobbing stopped abruptly.

“There’s no use trying to hide,” Logic informed the blankets. “I already saw you moving and heard you crying so I know you’re there.”

Keep reading


The year is 1974. The Gravel Wars are over, Grey’s robot menace is subdued, and Miss Pauling is finally getting a handle on her new role as President and CEO of Mann Co. when a wholly unexpected threat emerges in the form of a doomsday cult calling themselves Rise & Shine. Convinced that the end is near, they want nothing more than to purify the world of the taint of weaponry and violence through… more violence. (But it’s okay when they do it! Don’t ask.) The destruction of Mann Co.—the world’s largest supplier of guns, ammunition, and novelty hats for some reason—is their #1 priority.

This new enemy is decentralized and mobile. A threat could pop up anywhere in the world, so Team Fortress must step up their game. Mann Co. pays the bills, and the boss lady says these Risers must be stopped.

You are the Driver.

Wherever the team needs to go, you can get them there. You also provide vital support in battle, which is no longer confined to neat little bases. You’re an expert navigator, capable in every kind of terrain, always on your toes. You know how to drive most land vehicles, and the ones you don’t, you’re pretty sure you could figure out within 15 minutes. For this job, you stick with the company car. 

Your vehicle, aside from a setting for awkward road trips, is a home away from home once your mission begins. When fully set up, it’s the place where your teammates can top off their health and ammo or, in worst case scenarios, respawn. Guard it with your life.

Keep reading

you a spy, bruv?

Small plot synopsis: The reader wants to know just what it is their boyfriend does for a living. (Again, no big plot. I just love writing banter-filled fluff.) 

Pairing: Eggsy x reader

Words: 920

Warning: Cussing. 

A/N: This is probably unrealistic because if your partner was bloodied and bruised all the time it would bring about more suspicion and serious conversation, but I suck at writing drama. Hope it’s okay ^.^ 

“So it’s a secret organisation, I’m guessing.”

Eggsy’s fork drops with a clatter. The look on his face is something akin to incredulity.

“Not tonight, babe,” he pleads, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

It’s been five weeks since you started living together; five weeks of him returning home most evenings looking worse for wear, either sporting a new black eye or clutching a cracked rib; five weeks of you interrogating him in an attempt to find out precisely what his job involves.

Up until now he’s been annoyingly tight-lipped, telling you the same three words (“everything’s under control”) that do nothing at all to ease your worries.

“Look,” you begin, “a man’s entitled to a few secrets, fine, but I’m worried about you, Eggsy, and can you honestly blame me? Shit, you’re bleeding again.”

You circle to his chair, blood-soaked flannel in hand. He presses it to his hairline as you begin clearing the table.

My job’s stressful enough.” You bluster. “Between you and my patients, coming home just feels like starting a second shift.”

You enter the kitchen with your arms full of dishes, Eggsy trailing behind. He says, “Everything’s—”

“I swear, if the next words out of your mouth are ‘under control’ I’ll hurt you.”  

You dump the dishes in the sink as his arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“Darlin’, you’re stressing over nothin’,” he insists, immediately retreating when you spin, brandishing a spoon. He raises his hands and regards the utensil with no hint of solemnity at all. “Fuck, not a spoon!? What’re you gonna do with that?”

“I know where I’d like to shove it,” you grumble, starting when he barks with laughter. Blood trickles from his forehead and threatens to run down his nose. You narrow your eyes. “Where’s the flannel?”

He sobers up, shrugging. “Dunno. Back in the dining room?”

You grit your teeth. “Apply – it – to – your – wound. I’ve told you it’s either the flannel or I take you to hospital, and if you won’t see a doctor –”

“No doctors!”

You huff. “Then the flannel it is.”  

He grins. “Yes, Nurse.” Bowing, he quickly slips through the door just before you swipe at him with a towel, barely holding back laughter yourself.  

He comes back a few seconds later, and his smile bestrides silly when he realises your bad mood has waned.

You fill the sink with soapy water before inspecting his cut. “Does it hurt?” He shakes his head. “Do you have a headache?” Again, no. “Feel dizzy?”

“I’m fine,” he insists, kissing your nose as extra reassurance. “Nothing some sleep can’t fix.”

“Oh, good. In that case you’ll do the dishes tonight, yeah?”

“Actually,” he refutes, swaying on his feet as his left eye twitches repeatedly, “now that you mention it, I-I think I’m starting to see two of you.”

“Aren’t you lucky?” you muse, laughing. “But nice try.” You press the sponge to his chest but instead he holds your chin to get your attention. You watch him, confused.

“It’s not a trust thing,” he promises, “okay? A few weeks ago I said you’re the person I trust most in th’world. I meant it. More than anything I wanna tell you…” 

“But what? You’re silenced by some oath of confidentiality?” You half-joke.  

“Something like that,” he confirms, looking so earnest that you believe him. You’ve had no reason to mistrust Eggsy in the past and you definitely have no reason to do so now.

You chew the inside of your cheek, silent for a second. “I don’t want to be one of those partners that nag constantly, but I can’t shake the thought of a night where you don’t come home and—” you falter. Filling in the blanks, he nods.

“I get it, trust me I do. I’d lose my mind if I thought you were in danger.” Then he smiles cheekily. “‘Cause I sort of fancy you, Y/N. Knowing you’re here gives me the extra incentive to always make it back.”

You smile. “Are you softening me up to try and get out of doing the dishes?”

“Nah, I mean it.” His hand squeezes your hip as he dwells in thought. “I am interested to hear your theories, though.”

You brighten. “If I guess correctly, will you tell me the truth?”

“Probably not.” He laughs when you frown. “What ‘appened to ‘a man’s entitled to a few secrets’?”

“That was before you were mean about it.” You heave a sigh. “Fine. Initially I thought you were a hitman but I immediately ruled it out because you don’t seem paranoid enough. A bodyguard was another possibility, but I figured there’d be pictures published of you in the media. So that left the last and only plausible option: a spy.”

His lips quirk. “That was the only plausible option?”

“Yup, a more streetwise Bond. It explains the fancy suits and your sudden fondness for martinis.” His amusement grows as you ramble on. “The glasses threw me at first but I suspect they’re like a decoy, right? Designed to blend in with your appearance but really they’re programmed with archives, laser beams and international comm links?”  

There’s a beat as he stares at you. “You watch too many crime dramas.”

You grin. “So am I right?”

He hates lying to you, but being a Kingsman comes with countless risks he’d rather keep you away from and blissfully ignorant of. So it’s with nothing but good intentions – and a sly smile – when he says, “Not even close.”

localneighborhoodhippy  asked:

For like fic prompts if it was like Derek was super like fluffy and sweet around stiles it's like he just turns into a little mush ball ? Or like I remember reading a prompt that never got a story to it that was about when like Derek was deaged but normal Derek was there and stiles and him where married and a deaged Derek was there too so there was two Derek's.

It only took me over a week to write it (college can suck it) BUT it’s here!!! I wrote you a fic and I hope you like it, my lovely :)

“Scott, no phone or I throw it in the woods,” Derek orders from where he’s already pinned Isaac to the ground. Erica and Allison are sparring to the side, Allison stopping them so she can better demonstrate a move in slow motion and Erica nodding along. Scott rolls his eyes but does as he’s told, knowing that Derek would happily chuck the smartphone onto the trees just to have Scott track it down.

Jackson gives him a significant look as he walks back over to the group waiting for a turn to spar. Scott nods minutely and groans when Isaac walks past and shoves him in the direction of Derek.

Recently, he seemed to be going especially hard on the betas, drilling more often and less time to take breaks, more force behind each of his hits. The pack could feel the tension emanating through the bonds that connected them to the Alpha and no one liked it and indulged him, hoping it would eventually pass.

Scott had been thrown onto his ass no less than six times in the ten minutes it took Stiles to drive to the clearing just beyond the Hale House. Scott slumped with relief upon spotting the familiar blue Jeep and felt Derek’s grip slacken when Stiles’ scent drifted over, the Alpha being unable to see his arrival with his back turned.

“Hey, Stiles!” Kira waves to him as he makes his way over, Lydia in tow. Derek stands and smiles gently in the human’s direction while he’s distracted by Kira telling him about a new kind of Japanese herbal remedy for headaches that her mother taught her.

“Derek, put the heart eyes away,” Cora scoffs from inside the house, out of human ear shot but causes her older brother to jump. He shakes his head and scowls in her direction before walking towards the group on the porch. Jackson pulls up next to Scott as he watches Derek loom over Stiles’ shoulder causing the boy to flail and smack him when he finally notices.

“You asked Stiles to come by didn’t you?” Scott watches Derek carefully for signs of eavesdropping before answering in a quiet voice.

“Yep, thought it would save us some bruises.” Jackson nods along, patting Scott’s shoulder before they walk towards where the entire pack had gathered.

“Hey, can we watch a movie? I just bought a bunch of those popcorn pan thingies!” Stiles perks up, facing Derek with wide, hopeful eyes. The pack continues on with their conversation completely “ignoring” Stiles and Derek, but not all of them can resist the urge to side eye the pair.

Derek had told them explicitly that training would be for at least four hours today and to not plan for anything else happening. As of right now, they were barely hitting the two hour mark. But Derek just heaves a sigh and shoos Stiles inside with a nod of his head. The human dashes away with a smile and the pack exchanges looks.

“You’re whipped, Der-Bear.” Cora sighs with a shake of her head but unable to reign in the smile as she walks past her brother. He growls but she and the rest of the pack ignore him as they all rush past and try to get first crack at one of the three showers inside.

The truth was, Derek was fully aware of just how whipped he was. This wasn’t the first time he had cut training short in the wake of one of Stiles’ plans for a pack night. It wasn’t the first (nor the last, he was sure) time he would undermine himself for the sake of that bright, sunshiney grin that would grace Stiles’ impish face when he got his way.

Of course the pack had caught onto it, had used it against him more often then he would care to admit. But he was never angry for very long, always too consumed with the way Stiles jumped about and ran circles around him. Like now, when Stiles had managed to make all nine of the popcorn pans and then realized there wasn’t any Sprite to go with it. It was almost if on instinct he turned to Derek with those wide eyes that got to him every goddamn time, asking if he could go to the store. Derek had put up a front, telling him first a very flat no before continuing with plunking himself in his armchair and proceeding to growl upon the boy’s approach.

None of that seemed to deter the human and Derek was once begrudgingly impressed by his ability to power through. That’s not to say Derek ever grew to be happily impressed with it, just more and more annoyed until he was numb to Stiles’ pestering ways.

That didn’t explain why Derek was currently in the self checkout line at the closest grocery store to the house though. No, that could be explained by the yipping idiot that Derek called his wolf, the bastard. Derek wasn’t sure which was worse, if Stiles did or didn’t know that this appeased his wolf’s need to provide. It was something about Derek being the first he turned to when he needed something, acknowledging Derek as the one to satisfy whatever he needed, his wolf preened at the attention. Derek the man? Yeah, he wasn’t so pleased.

Keep reading

Soulmate au

Here me out. There’s a soulmate au where any injuries on your soulmate appears on you right?

Person A is in this au and they explains about it.

“Most people get bruises from football or some, sadly, get cuts from self-harm. However, my soulmate keEPS GETTING FUCKING PAPER CUTS.”

And when they finally meets their soulmate it isn’t all lovey Dovey but it’s just 15 minutes of person A shaking the soulmate (Person B) yelling at them for slowly killing him with paper cuts?

Dunno if this is good but hey

Also I might write a mini fanfiction thing about this? Anyone got any good tips? Thoughts?

anonymous asked:

sarah I just had a really weird flash into a fic idea where R is the god of love & beauty,,, like how E is usually portrayed in those fics?? I dunno, a role reversal of it seems rlly interesting


  • People expect the god of love and beauty to be beautiful, but Grantaire lives to be contrary, so his preferred form is decidedly unlike what anyone would expect him to look like - untameable curls, too big forehead, eyes too far apart, crooked nose, a scar across one cheek that he was delighted to receive from Bahorel one time they were play-fighting. 
  • The muted shock -always, always- in people’s eyes when they see him for the first time keeps his head straight, reminds him that humankind is not as good as Cosette likes to make them out to be.
  • “Is that him?” people whisper. “Are you sure? He looks nothing like the statues.” Grantaire doesn’t bother striking any of the statues down, he does enjoy beautiful things, after all, and they are all very beautiful. 
  • He learns that the statues have all been made to look like Enjolras, who “so beautiful that the god of love must’ve created him in his own image”. He learns that Enjolras hates it, hates being called beautiful even though he undeniably is
  • Out of curiosity, he goes and talks to Enjolras, and surprise surprise, ends up falling in love. 
  • “Make me ordinary.” // “You could never be anything but extraordinary. That would not change even if I changed the way you look.” 
Personal Yuri on Ice Fic Rec List

I browse AO3 for new YOI fics everyday, at least four times a day. Yes, that is my life now. This is Part Three. Part OnePart Two, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, and Part Seven also exist.

1. Once More, With Feeling
Yuuri wakes up in Detroit after going to bed under heavy stress and emotional turmoil due to Victor’s declining mental health. Things are different. He’s dreaming, obviously. And in dreams, people can do what they want. So Yuuri decides to do what he wants. If only he could have accepted this new reality. Then the realization wouldn’t hurt so much later on. But ignorance keeps the pain of reality away.

2. Re: Yuri Katsuki
Phichit Chulanont is fiercely loyal to his best friend Yuri Katsuki. So when he randomly gets a direct message on Instagram from one v_nikiforov, it’s only natural for Phichit to assume it’s a prank. That is until he comes to realize it’s not a prank.

3. Trade Your Heroes For Ghosts
Having endured what was probably the worst day of his life, Yuuri wakes up with the hangover of a century and a desperate plea for the world to forget about his existence. Alas, the world has other plans. So does a certain Russian skater.

4. By My Side
Things happen a bit differently after the banquet. Yuuri doesn’t actually forget everything. And he wants to see Victor again.

5. A Glittering Path
Four times Yuuri made Viktor cry (happy tears, that is!), and one time (or more) they both cried. (You’re allowed to cry at a wedding, aren’t you? Especially if it’s your own.)

6. Winter Song
Yuuri was aware that at some point — a moment in time he couldn’t quite place — Victor had become his boyfriend. There wasn’t a single instant when it happened. It was a slow awareness, as if Victor had silently been asking the question for months now, and Yuuri had been giving him the answer a little more with each passing day.

7. Lessons in Love
All Viktor wants is for his son to be happy - and if that means spending countless hours at the ice rink, a million more in the ballet studio, and devotedly cheering for Katsuki Yuuri at every competition he enters, then that is precisely what he’ll do. He just didn’t expect to become a fan, too. (He didn’t expect to fall in love.)

8. The Spaces Shaped for You
The paths they’d chosen after the Grand Prix Final wouldn’t be easy, particularly with Nationals just ten days away, but one thing was certain: no matter what happened, their paths would always come together in the end.

9. Bear Your Soul on the Ice
At age fourteen, Katsuki Yuuri had been determined to be Japan’s next great figure skating hope, but with no coach that would never happen, so his ballet instructor packs him up off to Russia to train with Yakov Feltsman. The Yakov Feltsman, otherwise known as the coach to rising figure skating star — and Yuuri’s idol — Viktor Nikiforov.

10. Grand Prix Finals with the Russian Skating Family
The new skating season begins, and Yuuri works hard to get his gold medal for the Grand Prix Finals with the Russian Skating Family. Yes. The Russian Skating Family.

11. Makes the Heart Fonder
This was going to be hard — they both knew that — but they would willingly take any of the punches thrown at them. It had been rough when Victor returned to Japan to be at Makkachin’s side, but they both pulled through. And, either by willingness or stubborn determination, they would manage, time and time again. But now— now when Victor was in Canada, and Yuri was in Russia on Victor’s side of their bed, where the pillows sighed his scent and his cologne, he missed the sound of his fiancé’s voice more than anything in the world.

12. With Fire in Their Eyes
Not applause. Screams. The light is wrong because a fourth of the ceiling projectors are missing. The sky is dark. No stars. Something gleams behind the broken sky. And moves. Something he can’t — won’t — something. Something that’s looking at him.

13. You can have everything…
Before the Grand Prix Final starts in Sochi, Yuuri finds Victor’s phone. He returns it— and hijinks and heavy flirtation ensue.

14. I’d rather be skating
Sometimes, when a muggle child gets an acceptance letter from a wizarding school, they say no. Victor Nikiforov would rather be skating. Yuuri Katsuki would rather be normal.

15. say not a word; I can hear you
“He was from Hasetsu,” Chris tells him quietly. “Oh.” Caught mid-laugh is a slight, young man with kind, brown eyes. He’s soft all around where edges should be, nothing like - nothing like a Ranger. “You think he’s gone back there? Really?” There’s a pause, Chris spinning his spanner around his knuckles. He shrugs. “I dunno, Yuuri’s always had a streak of crazy in him. So. Maybe.”

16. sharp dressed man
Victor’s such a peacock normally, and now he looks a bit like a half-molted one; glitzy fabric half-hidden under the sober visage of a respectable coach, skates exchanged for Yuuri’s gear.

17. to the winner goes the gold
In which Yuuri and Viktor are competing against each other in the following year’s Grand Prix Final, and they’re still (very much) smitten with each other.

18. in the spaces between
Yuuri’s life in St Petersburg is spread between four languages.

19. falling through the ice
Home. Home is Viktor’s sparse St. Petersburg apartment, which is now where Yuri keeps his clothes and his toothbrush and his silver medal, which Viktor hung above the fireplace, and his extensive collection of Viktor Nikiforov posters, because Minako had mailed every one of them from Hatsetsu. (Yuri had shoved them into a drawer, but Viktor put some of his favorites on the fridge, next to the photos he’d had printed of Yuri in his juniors costumes.) Home, where every time Viktor sees Yuri chattering excitedly to the triplets over Skype or hears Mari complain over the phone about the time difference, he feels guilty for keeping Yuri to himself, as if he’s the one stealing Yuri from the world now. “What will Viktor Nikiforov’s fans say if he falls like that in competition?” Viktor sighs, not moving. “What will his protégée and rival Yuri Katsuki say?”

20. never stop until the grave
Back in St Petersburg, Victor attempts to combine coaching Yuuri with preparing for his own return to competition. The spirit is willing but the flesh may be weak.

21. he meets me where i am
Something gold catches the light, drawing his attention. There’s a gold ring on Victor’s ring finger. “Ah,” Yuuri says, his heart giving a last squeeze, a futile reminder of the silly crush he once had. “Congratulations on your marriage,” he says, as cheerily as he can.

22. our doubts are traitors
Some ghosts of your past you leave well alone.

There are a lot of shorter pieces on this list, but nonetheless I’m grateful to the authors - and the artists! - who continue to provide high-quality content even though the anime isn’t airing right now. Has Season 2 been confirmed yet???

plastic beach headcanons
  • 2d likes to sit on the roof of the building, as far away from the water as he can get. he gets horribly sunburnt from laying up there for hours without anything to cover him. murdoc yells and makes cyborg noodle cover him in aloe vera when he sees the bright burns. if 2d looks straight up at night it is completely silent and there are so many stars that it feels like he is falling up into space. these are the only times he feels peaceful. 
  • murdoc loses a lot of weight. he’s manic and the only thing really going into his body is hard alcohol. there are times when his hands shake so much that he has to call off practice because he can’t play his bass anymore. he downs something straight from a tin can, unknown, gelatinous and tasting vaguely of rubber. he drinks some more to get rid of the taste. 
  • the evangelist shows up in 2d’s room sometimes with armfuls of vhs tapes of commercials from the 80s. they warp and hiss static between jingles when he plays them on an old tv that he found washed up onshore and repaired. the two of them sit on 2d’s bed and watch them silently for hours. there’s not much else to do. when the last tape runs out the evangelist waits until 2d is finished rewinding them, gathers them up and leaves through the door that 2d thought was locked. the bed is damp where it was sitting. once 2d fell asleep before the evangelist left and woke up alone, hot tears in his eyes from a dream he couldn’t remember.
  • 2d referred to the boogieman as “sun moon stars” once in an offhand remark. “how did you know that’s his name,” murdoc demanded. 2d looked up, confused and a little startled. “i dunno,” he said. “i just do. how do you know that’s his name?” murdoc couldn’t answer. 
  • featured artists on the album seem to exist on a separate plane of reality. they came with murdoc and 2d there. they both have clear memories of an exodus of submarines following behind them as they made their way to the beach. their voices are on the tracks and they’ll run into them in the den or the kitchen, crack a beer and have a conversation. the guest artists mention each other and at times you can hear them laughing down the hall. 2d played a game of pool with them once and won 5 pounds and a worn-out sock. but neither murdoc nor 2d can explain how there are 20+ collaborators but the halls are empty more often than they are not and the only things on the beach seem to belong to the two of them. there is strange flat silence between the lapping of the waves and they can’t find anyone when they want to, only when they stumble across them, and then everything continues as normal. they turn around when a track is finished to congratulate everyone and there is nobody there except for the other. suddenly they are emptied and filled with an aching loneliness. 
  • murdoc does not cry. if he did, he does not remember it. 
  • there is something about on melancholy hill. for a few seconds after the final bell tolls, nobody can breathe. the air stagnates in the lungs. it is uncomfortable and jarring the first few times, but ultimately harmless. 2d never mentions it. it makes murdoc terrified.
  • plastic beach is a no man’s land. it is an ungoverned place but there are many rules, most of which are unspoken. do not try to leave. do not eat the jellyfish. do not look in the mirror or think about what you have become. you may engage with the boogieman but do not let him get too close. do not look directly at the sun and do not look directly at him and do not listen to the crying. do not try to remember what it is like to not be lonely. do not think about what might have happened or what could have been. do not let him know. the most important rule is do not say her name. this is for his sake and for your sanity, or his sanity and your sake. now that you think about it, there’s not much of a difference.

When you gain an army of new followers overnight.

The Bubbler / Le Bulleur


When you realize you have nothing new to post because you’ve been on hiatus…

Blind Threats

Originally posted by motherllode

Request: Jax imagine based on a dream that @homicidalteenagedream had.

Hope you like this boo, I changed a couple things. Sorry it took so long.

I don't really know what timeline i was going with here, except Tara doesn’t exist (YAAASS) & Thomas is older and in school.


You gripped the wheel tightly as you pulled into the lot.
To say you were under pressure lately  was an understatement and the last thing you wanted to see was that white mercedes , belonging to SAMCROs favourite porn slut Ima, sitting in your usual spot.
Your jaw clenched and you swung your car into an empty spot, your tyres screeching.
You were so blinded by your anger that you didn’t see the tow truck parked in front of the garage. and the prospects unloading the bike. The bike that belonged to you old man.
You had just slammed your door shut when you finally noticed the bike, with the fresh dents and scratches.
Your heart dropped and all your anger left you, only to be replaced with guilt and worry.
Jax saw you step around your car and he stepped out of the office and headed towards you.
As soon as you saw him a sense of relief washed over you and you adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder as you walked across the lot.
“Hey babe.”
“What happened?”
Jax sighed and ran a hand through his blond hair, slicking it back out of his face.
“Had a run in with a 12 wheeler.” Jax told you. “Had to put her down.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Im fine, thanks for asking.”
“God as if its not bad enough that I gotta worry about you coming home filled with bullets, now I gotta worry about you being crushed under a wheel too?!”
“Hey,” Jax reached for your hand and he squeezed it comfortingly. “It was an accident. You don’t need to worry bout me.”
He met your gaze an under those blue eyes you softened, but only slightly.
“So whats the damage?”
“Bit of road rash, nothin major.”
You nodded.
Jax threw his arm over your shoulder and pulled you into his side as he led you to the garage.
You knew he was only doing it to comfort you and keep you from nagging him about road safety but you relished in the contact; it was the most he’d touched you in what felt like years.
Clay was inspecting the bike while Gemma leant against the workbench in the garage.
“Hows she looking?” Jax called as you approached.
He slid his arm off your shoulder and walked towards his bike. He stopped in front of it and ran his hand across the seat, his eyes studying the scratched paint work.
You leant against the workbench next to Gemma.
“Give Lowell couple hours and she’ll be good. Its mostly cosmetic.”
Jax grinned and slicked his hair back once more.
“Thank god. Im hard for my Harley already.”
Clay laughed and you rolled your eyes.
Gemma smirked. “Maybe she can help you with that.”
Jax glanced in your direction briefly before looking away.
He pulled his cigarettes from the pocket of his kutte and began to walk away.
“Nah, Im good.” He muttered under his breath.
“Whats that about?” Gemma asked hastily, her dark eyes burning into you.
“Forget it.”
You gulped and walked away, heading swiftly back to your car.
Gemma pursed her lips and crossed her arms as she watched you both, walking away in different directions.


“Chucky, why don’t you take the boys out to play on the swings?”
“I accept that.”
Chuck nodded to Gemma and you thanked him, only just managing to ruffle Thomas’ blond hair before he leapt off of your lap and chased after Abel who was already half way out the door.
Your daughter giggled in Gemmas arms, cooing and gurgling in her own baby language that only she understood.
“God, how much longer are they gonna be in there?”
You glared at the closed doors, wishing that Church would be over so you could head home.
Gemma raised an eye brow and kissed the tip of your daughters nose, earning another giggle.
“You got somewhere to be, mama?”
“I wish.”
You sighed and rapped your fingertips against the wooden table.
Lyla shared a sympathetic smile with you and you pushed back your chair and stood.
Maybe some fresh air would help your mood.
The clubhouse was crowded tonight. Jax had requested that everyone related to the club attend. Whether it be through family or an old lady. Everyone that knew the Redwood Boys was here. Everywhere you looked there were faces, and all you wanted was to be alone.
You ran your hand through your daughters soft dark hair and headed for the door.
Abel and Thomas had taken after their father. All blonde hair and blue eyes. But your daughter had taken after you and her dark hair matched yours exactly. She was only young but you knew she would be a spitting image of you in a few years.
It was less crowded outside. Chucky was pushing the boys on the swings, their angelic laughter travelling through the cool evening air.
You perched on top of the picnic table and laid back against the old wood.
The faint sound of Guns N Roses playing through the speakers and muffled banter travelled through the walls and you blocked it out as you pulled your cigarettes out of your pocket.
The nicotine filled your lungs and you exhaled deeply when you heard the door to the clubhouse open.
“You gonna tell me whats going on between you and my son?”
You didn’t even need to look. You would know that voice anywhere.
“Nothings going on, Gem.” You sighed.
“So you’ve just been a grumpy bitch all week for nothin, huh sweetheart?”
You sat up and glared at her.
She had her hands on her hips and that knowing, Gemma Teller smile plastered all over her face.
“C’mon, baby. Tell me whats going on.”
You sighed again and ran your hand trough your hair, trying to figure out where to start.
“I dunno, Gem. Everything was fine a few weeks ago.”
“So whats changed?”
You shrugged.
“Ever since he laid down his bike everything just sorta.. fallen apart.”
Gemma stepped closer and sat atop the picnic table next to you.
She lit her own cigarette and took a long drag as she listened to you speak.
“He barely speaks to me, let alone touches me. Fuck he hasn’t even kissed me in god knows how long.” Your voice began to shake and you shoved down the uproar that threatened to escape you from rising in your throat.
“When I wake up he’s gone, thats if he’s even come home at all.” You blew out your smoke. “He doesn’t say good morning to me, he’s gone before the kids are up for school.”
“Honey give him time, he’ll come round.”
“Really? Cause I cant help but notice Imas cars been here nearly everyday and I gotta feeling he’s fucking that bitch again.”
Gemma shook her head. “Naw, he don’t want that rancid pussy.”
You sighed and tapped your cigarette, watching the ash crumble off the end and flutter to the ground.
“It will be okay, sweetheart. You just gotta hang in there. He loves you. You’re good for him.”
Both of you looked up as the door opened and Jax walked out.
He glanced in your direction but his face never formed a smile.
He took a puff of the joint between his lips and looked away and walked towards the office, a cloud of smoke billowing out behind him.
Gemmas eyes narrowed as she watched her son saunter his way too the office.
“I’ll be back later.”
You slid off the table and flicked your butt to the ground and headed inside.
Your daughter was on Opies lap, her finger wrapped in his beard and you thanked him for looking after her and lifted her onto your hip.
You carried her outside and rounded up the boys and loaded them into the car.
Jax watched from the office as you pulled out of the lot and headed home.

The kids were all finally asleep and you tiptoed your way around their rooms, pulling clothes from their drawers and wardrobes.
You would just get everything ready. Thats all.
That was the plan.
You kept telling yourself you were doing the right thing. Things couldn’t go on like this any longer.
And so you would pack enough for the kids and for yourself and you would keep them ready.
They would be hidden away , ready for when you finally had the courage to do what you’d been considering doing for weeks.
If only you weren’t so in love with him. Then maybe you’d be gone tonight. But you did love him and so you would give him three days. Three days to change things, three days to make things better. Three days to convince you to stay.
You finished packing and you stashed their bags in the back of your wardrobe, along with your suitcase.
There was a bottle of whiskey waiting for you on top of the refrigerator and you poured yourself a glass before curling up on the sofa.
You had taken your third sip when you heard Jax’s bike pull into the driveway. You took a deep breath and glued your eyes to the television screen.
The last season of The Bachelor was playing and you tried to focus on that.
The front door opened and a thump could be heard as Jax kicked his sneakers off his feet.
He watched you as he pulled off his gloves and his kutte. Your feet tucked up beneath you, wine glass in one hand and the tv remote in the other, watching the screen as it flashed images of red roses and girls in pretty dresses.
You didn’t look up as he crossed the room or when he stopped in front of you.
It was only when he took the remote from your hands and turned the volume down that you finally looked up at your old man.
Jax sat on the sofa next to you and placed the remote on the coffee table.
Only the sound of your breathing could be heard and you took a sip of your whiskey.
“I’m sorry.”
His voice broke the silence and he fumbled with the rings on his fingers as he searched his mind for the right words to say.
You ran your finger around the rim of your glass as you waited for him to continue.
“”I’ve been pushing you away.”
“No shit.” You scoffed.
Jax sighed and ran his hand through his hair before turning to you.
“Look, maybe I was wrong to do it. But I was trying to protect you.”
You arched an eyebrow.
“Ive got dead bodies all around me, babe. This shit thats been going on.. I don’t know how to get out of it. I don’t know how to keep you and the kids away from it.”
“These last two weeks Ive been trying to push you away. I’m terrified of hurting you. Im terrified of hurting our kids.”
“You think I’m not used to this shit, Jax?”
“We have never been this deep before.”
You rolled your eyes and placed your glass on the table.
“Look, I get the whole ‘trying to protect you bullshit’. I do. But you know it doesn’t work on me. Its never worked on me. And to say you don’t want to hurt me?!” You laughed bitterly and stood, lifting the bottle of whiskey off the table. “You just spent the last two weeks hurting me, babe.”
You spun on your heels and marched to the bathroom. You perched on the edge of the tub and turned the faucet on full, letting the hot water fill the bath.
Jax watched you walk out of the living room and he buried his face in his hands.
How did everything turn so wrong?

You slid down into the warm water, letting your head sink below the surface and blocking out all sound.
You wished that the walls of the tub could fold down, that the tub could expand and you could swim below the surface the way you used to when you were young and your mother would take you swimming in the lake. You wished you could feel as free as you did when you’d dive into that lake.
But when you came up for air you were reminded of the pain in your chest and the same four walls of the bathroom surrounded you.
Sobs took over your body and  you trembled as your tears fell, mixing with the bath water.
It was more than crying.
It was the kind of desolate sobbing that comes from a person drained of all hope.
You pulled your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around them, as tears rolled down your cheeks.
Eventually the water turned cold around you and your tears ran dry.
You stood, letting the water run down your body and you grabbed the towel off the heated rail and wrapped it around your body.
Stepping out of the bath you caught a glimpse in the mirror of your reflection.
You looked deflated and gulped.
You weren’t sure who you were anymore.
The whiskey bottle sat on the counter beside the basin and you took a swig of the honey coloured liquid, letting it burn down your throat.
You placed it back on the counter and left the bathroom, your dripping body leaving a trail of marks along the carpet.
You headed for your bedroom but when you opened the door you froze.
Jax was perched on the edge of the bed you shared with him, his head buried in his hands and his shoulders shaking as he cried.
You gulped, your mind racing as you tried to work out what had brought on this sudden emotion from the man who was normally so strong.
And then you saw it.
You saw your suitcase lying in front of the wardrobe, you saw your kids bags, unzipped and showing the contents you had packed earlier that evening.
He didn’t notice you had entered the room and you crossed the room silently and knelt by the bags, quietly repacking the items of clothing he had pulled out.
The sound of you pulling the zip shut on your sons bag alerted him and he looked up to see you kneeling in your towel, fumbling with the bags.
“Stop,” He said softly.
You gulped and kept packing, reaching for the strewn clothes he had torn out, your hands moving faster now.
“Please, babe. Please don’t leave me.”
Your breathing hitched in your throat but you kept going, zipping up the final bag.
“(y/n), please. Don’t leave me, I love you.”
He was begging you now and tears rolled down your cheeks.
The bags were all repacked and you hung your head over them as you listened to him pleading.
It took every ounce of you to lift yourself to your feet and you turned to him.
His bloodshot eyes were glistening with unshed tears, making the colour of his eyes shine bluer that you thought possible.
“I need you.”
His whisper echoed loudly in your head and  you took a deep breath.
Your adjusted the towel wrapped around your body.
He watched you as you fumbled with your damp hair and the towel, anything you could do to keep your eyes away from his.
He stepped forward and cupped your face, lifting your face to meet his gaze.
The look in his eyes broke you. The pain, the pleading, the hope.
“Things need to change, Jackson.”
“They will babe. I promise.”
You nodded slowly.
His hands left your face and he  wrapped them around your body and pulled you closer to him.
He crashed his lips against yours and kissed you deeply, a sudden passion and urgency surging through his lips.
He pulled you to the bed and laid you down beneath him.
You weren’t sure if you ever would have had the courage to leave him.
But as he made love to you like he never had before, you knew that you would always be right beside him.


@i-want-to-be-watered-by-roger @daniehelene27 @jasonmccannsgirl8699 @hellsmurf96 @i-am-the-luna @aworldwideapart @jaaxtellerasf @trinasoftballgirl @thejulietfarciertlove

If you want to be added to the tag list for any or all Sons please let me know.x

Late Nights :CTH

A/N: So, just to make this clear I’m definitely not taking any imagine request yet because lord knows I’m not ready. This is specially written for both @lukeysgirl and some anon who made me fall in love with this prompt the other night and I just had to write it out how I’d imagine it.

However, I will be only taking text imagine request cause those only take like maybe 10-15 min tops.So,feel free to request those if ya want.Hope you enjoy💕

“Shhhh, be quiet, Y/N.” Calum drunkenly giggled as he led you down the stairs of his home.

His three best mates were all crashing in the living room due to the game of Never Have I Ever getting too much for them. You were amazed with all of the crazy things the four had done, but you knew that they were pretty wild to begin with. You on the other hand were just slightly tipsy being only two or three shots away from the amount Calum had taken. You both giggled loudly as you tripped over your feet once more and Calum slid open the patio door, leading you into their backyard.The cool, freshly cut grass tickled your bare feet as you cross the yard to get further away from the house so you wouldn’t have to be as quiet.

“I wanna do a cartwheel.” You announced as you broke away from his grasp, grinning widely at your crush. Although the two of you flirted heavily and you and everyone else knew that you were attracted to one another, you weren’t in a relationship. You had the fans fooled, though.

“Go for it.” He encouraged. The boy even clapped once you had flawlessly done the cartwheel without falling over. Suddenly he had gotten excited as he shouted,“You know what we should do?!”


“Yanno that scene from the dirty dancing movie where she jumped into his arms and he caught her?!” He waited as you nodded your head before continuing.“We should try it!”

“I dunno, Cal.” You nibbled your lips nervously.“You might drop me.”

“I swear I won’t.”


When he nodded his head you took that as a cue to prepare yourself to jump into the air. You weren’t too keen on relying on a drunk, barely grown man to catch you as you jumped into the air, but it was Calum. That was enough for you to roll with it.

“One…Two…Three!” He shouted and you took off running, leaping into the air with a squeal.

Calum came through and caught you, but he didn’t hold you up for long before you both came tumbling down onto the soft grass, each blade kissing your cheek. You were laughing loudly as Calum flipped you onto your back and began to wrestle with you, holding your leg up to your chest just enough without hurting you. You wrapped your legs around his waist to get the upper hand and try to roll him, but Calum grips your wrist and placed the majority of his weight down on you.

“Let me go, you ass!”

With his body now straddling you and your legs connected around his waist, the boy lifted you up by your arms and to your surprise placed his plump lips onto yours. It wasn’t the first time you had kissed - the first time being a dare from Michael - but this was the first time you felt sparks fly even as cliche as it sounds. Calum pulled away from you to examine your reaction to the stunt he had pulled and you leaned in to capture his lips once again. The kiss was cute and simple, no tongue even being involved at first. Even when Calum’s tongue finally had began to explore the inside of your mouth, tasting the chocolate you had eaten before coming outside, it still didn’t get heated. You never imagined that your first actual make out with Calum would be so innocent and sweet.

You could feel a tickling sensation on your bare shoulder, but brushed it off as the grass. When that tickling sensation had slowly began to trail down your arm, however, you soon realized that it was a bug. Breaking away from the kiss and squeaking loudly, you began to smack your shoulder to get the bug away from you whilst Calum laughed as if it was the most hilarious sight. You watch as he allowed the harmless bug to climbed onto his finger, your eyes dazzling with astonishment as the insect crawled around on his hand.

“That’s disgusting.” You shook your head in disgust, but your interest in the bug causing you to ogle.

Calum couldn’t help but to adore the cute expression worn on you face as you examined the bug, knowing that a million thoughts were going through your head at the moment. You both sat quietly as he allowed the bug to crawl from his finger and onto a blade of grass, falling into a comforting silence.

At least it was comforting until you had surprise tackled him to the ground and began to tickle the poor boy. Calum was laughing loudly, the skin around his eyes crinkling and the multitude of dimples adorning his cheeks. His arms were flailing as he tried to get you to stop your attack and his cheeks were beginning to turn a hue of red from laughter.

“Y/N, stop! Please!”

“Why should I? Huh?” You teased, enjoying having the upper hand for once.

“I’ll- I’ll take you to Chill!” He bargained with you by using your favorite frozen yogurt place.

That was enough to get you to give in, the both of you panting from laughing so hard. Again there was a silence between the two as you admired each other, smiling at each other goofily as Calum’s chocolate brown orbs gazed into yours.

“You’re so damn beautiful.”

Your face suddenly felt hot from the compliment as well as the starstruck look in his eyes. You nervously began to twirl his white tee between your fingers as you mumbled out,“Yeah, I know.”

“Don’t try to act like you’re unaffected. I know you’re dying on the inside.” Calum said cockily and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“Oh, whatever.”

“You love me.”


“Really? ‘Cause I think I love you.” He grinned.

Your heart nearly skipped a beat at this confession. This was the confession you had been waiting for for months. You leaned down to kiss the Māori boy once again, biting his lip and tugging it towards you before letting it snap back. Calum groaned at this action and his hands went to rest on your butt.

“I love you too, Hood.”

“So, that means you’ll be my girlfriend, right?”


“Fuck yeah!” Calum cheered in triumph, pulling you back to his lips for what seemed like the millionth time tonight.

You jumped slightly when you felt him pinch your bottom and smacked his chest lightly, causing Calum to let out his infectious laugh. You shook your head in fake disbelief at the action while the boy just smiled up cheekily at you.

“You have a nice ass.”

“How am I gonna deal with you?” You questioned and he shrugged, pulling you down to rest your head onto his chest and placing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“I don’t know, but you’re stuck with me now.”

PTSD // p.p.

this contains spoilers for spiderman homecoming so don’t read it if you don’t want to be spoiled :)

The first thing Peter thinks after the battle is that he can finally get some well deserved, extremely wanted sleep.

Of course, he doesn’t account for the massive amounts of homework he’s been skipping in favor of protecting his beloved city, nor does he remember that he still has to keep up regular activities and appearances so May doesn’t get suspicious.

All in all, he doesn’t get the amount of sleep he wishes, and when he does sleep he, well, he doesn’t.

He first realizes that something isn’t normal when he wakes up after the fourth night of the same dream, suffocating under the massive pile of concrete Liz’s dad threw him under.

So he starts taking power naps, fifteen to twenty minutes literally anywhere he can close his eyes. In class, at home, at lunch, anywhere.

Y/N notices something’s wrong after Peter is caught sleeping in class for the fifth time the same day. Frowning, she continues doodling in her notebook, making a mental note to talk to Peter during lunch.

When the time finally rolls around, Y/N pulls Peter to the end of the lunch table, away from prying ears.

“What’s going on with you?” She asks. “It’s eleven thirty in the morning and you’ve already fallen asleep five different times in class.”

“What? Nothing, I’m fine,” Peter shrugs, “just been trying to catch up on homework and stuff, so I haven’t gotten a lot of sleep. But I’m okay.”

He isn’t exactly sure why he decides to lie to her, but the words are out of his mouth before he can contemplate them, and now he can’t take them back.

“Are you sure?” She asks. “Peter you know you can tell me anything.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he smiles, “I promise.”

Night time is when it’s the worst. Peter can’t sleep with sheets on anymore, or else he wakes up drenched in sweat wrestling to pull his head out of what he believes is concrete until he realizes that he’s only under the covers. He even considers asking May to help him take down his bunk beds, because sometimes he looks up and all he sees is building pieces falling down on top of him until he jolts up and sees that it’s only the top bunk of his bed. He doesn’t ask her though, he doesn’t want to have to come up with a reason why and he can’t exactly tell her the truth. He doesn’t sleep on the top one either, he’s too scared that somehow during the night he’ll throw himself off and break his arm.

Dust. There’s dust everywhere. Concrete crushing his ribs into his lungs as he struggles to breath.

And he’s dying. He can feel it. He tries to yell for help but it only hurts. There’s blood coming from somewhere, probably multiple places at this point and all he can think of is Y/N and how she’s probably laughing with Michelle at the cheesy music they’re playing at homecoming while he’s being crushed to death. He misses her, he loves her. He wishes he could tell her that before he dies but no, death is coming and it doesn’t care that he’s only fifteen years old or that he’s in love or that he’s just trying to keep the peace, it’s speeding towards him like a bullet train and his only regret is he hadn’t been with her longer.

Peter awakes with a jolt, almost slamming his head into the poles of the top bunk as he sits up, breathing heavily and trying to pull the sheets off of the top of his head.

“I’m okay I’m okay I’m okay,” he repeats, trying to slow his breathing as he reaches for his phone.

His fingers dial her number before his brain processes it, running his hand through his hair as he tries to calm himself.

“Peter?” She sounds sleepy, and only then does he realize that it’s almost two a.m. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Just the sound of her voice makes his heart slow to a normal pace, Peter smiling at her worried tone.

“Yeah yeah I’m fine,” he says, “sorry, I was just…working on English homework and got stuck and called you before I even thought to look at the time.”

“Are you actually doing homework or is this another excuse for one of your missions?” She asks.


“Actually homework,” he smiles, “I promise. Missions are over for the time being.”

“Okay,” she replies, “because I worry about you, if you’re hurt you can tell me.”

“No I’m fine, I promise,” he pulls a shirt out of his drawer, setting on his lap, “go back to sleep, I um…”

God just say it. Tell her you love her.

“I’ll see you at school.”

“Okay, I’ll see you at school.”

Peter knows what’s happening to him, of course he does. He’s a smart kid, he knows the symptoms of PTSD.

“You just have to make it through the nightmares,” he whispers to himself, “then you’ll be okay.”

He throws on the shirt, making his way towards the window and slipping out into the crisp air.

He’s at her apartment before he even realizes that’s where he was going, a soft smile on his face when he sees her light on. He notices her window cracked open, just enough for him to hear her conversation.

“I dunno MJ,” she says, pushing some hair behind her ear, “something’s up, he’s acting weird.”

Peter hangs upside down from the fire escape, watching as she sits on her bed.

“No it’s not that, I don’t think he’d ever do that,” she sighs, “but I dunno, he’s not telling me something. He called and said he was doing homework but…I dunno.”

His heart drops, he hates seeing how this is affecting her.

“You’re right you’re right,” she smiles, “I’m just being paranoid. Thanks MJ. I’ll see you at school.”

Peter makes his way back to his own apartment, falling onto his bed with a sigh. He knows he shouldn’t keep this from her, but she already worries about him so much he doesn’t want this to weigh on her. He falls into a fit full sleep, setting alarms for every thirty minutes so he didn’t have time to fall into a deep enough sleep to dream.

Four days later Peter hasn’t gotten much better, and Y/N is noticing more and more.

She can’t talk to Michelle about it, because she doesn’t know the real reason Peter disappears for hours on end. She talks to Ned, but he seems to know just about as much as she does. So she decides to talk to Peter, because he’s her best friend and her boyfriend and she worries about his health.

It’s fourth period and he’s asleep again, longer this time. Y/N realizes he fell asleep almost as soon as class started, but the bell rang two minutes ago and he’s still sleeping.

Before she can wake him up he starts twitching, muttering something she can’t quite make out with his head tucked into his arms.

“Peter,” she says, trying to gently shake him awake.

His head shoots up as he scrambles out of his seat until his back hits the wall, his breathing heavy and uneven.

“Someone…anyone…” he mutters, eyes cloudy and unseeing, “help me…please.”

She knows he’s still dreaming, but she’s terrified for him all the same.

“Peter…Peter it’s okay, I’m here,” she says, kneeling in front of him.

“I’m dying…oh my god I can’t…I can’t breathe,” his chest heaves up and down faster than Y/N thought is humanly possible, “help me…I’m gonna die…please.”

“Peter it’s okay, you’re dreaming,” she says, placing a hand on his cheek to still his head, “I’m here, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

She watches as his eyes clear and focus on her, a look of relief washing over his face as he pulls her into his chest, burying his face in her hair.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” he whispers, slightly rocking the two of them back and forth as he calms down.

“You’re okay,” she says, running her hand through his hair, “it was just a dream, you’re okay.”

“Just a dream,” he repeats, nodding his head, “I survived, I’m okay.”

“Look at me,” she says, tilting his head to where their eyes locked, “you were dreaming, everything is okay. I’m okay, you are okay.”

Peter takes in one last deep breath, nodding again. He presses his lips to hers, his head clearing finally as he threads his fingers through her hair.

“Will you please tell me what’s going on with you now?” She asks with shallow breaths, shaking her head. “I can’t handle you having secrets from me.”

“I’ve just…” he trails off, shaking his head, “I’ve been having bad dreams…nightmares really. I think it’s like…PTSD for the whole practically suffocating to death thing,” he laughs lightly, biting down on his bottom lip, “I just keep dreaming that I’m back there and that I’m dying and it…it sucks.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asks quietly.

“Because I didn’t want you to worry,” he replies, “because I thought it would go away.”

“How can I help?” She asks, standing up from the classroom floor.

“I don’t…” Peter shrugs, standing up as well, “I don’t know. I don’t know if this is going to go away…the only thing I do know is that I hate being alone.”

“Then I’m going to be with you, however long it takes,” she decides, lacing their fingers together as they head to their next class.

“Y/N?” He asks as they walk down the hall, taking in a subtle deep breath.

“Hm?” She replies, twisting the combination lock on her locker.

“I um…” he swallows, nodding to himself, “I love you.”

She doesn’t freeze up like he expects, instead she continues her movements, pulling a binder out of her locker with a smile on her face.

“I love you too Peter,” she replies, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He feels his heart beat speed up, but this time it had nothing to do with dreaming of being crushed to death. No, this was happiness.

“C'mon spidey,” she smiles, “it’s time for chem.”

Set Up- Jughead Imagine (Riverdale)

A/N: This is my first Riverdale imagine!! I hope you enjoy and please leave feedback or a request of your own!

Requested by anoymous:  I wanted to request a riverdale imagine. Could it be something like your Betty’s sibling and jughead has liked you for a while so Betty and Archie set you two up?

Word count:1013

Warnings: N/A

Sat in a booth at Pop’s you sighed in frustration as the chemistry stared back at you, unanswered. Looking up to the ceiling for inspiration, you failed to notice the raven haired boy sliding into the booth opposite you.

“I’m not sure if praying for the answers is really your best bet” Jughead said with a small smirk

“Its chemistry” You told him rolling your eyes at the thought of the work in front of you

“Well in that case praying probably is your best bet” He replied his smirk growing even bigger as you smiled

“So” You began “Is there a particular reason that the Jughead Jones has decided to grace me with his presence?” You asked whilst taking a sip from your milkshake

“Oh I dunno I just thought maybe you could use some distraction from your chemistry” He mused whilst opening his laptop

“Trying to make me fail I see” You smirked with a raised eyebrow

“Wouldn’t dream of it” He smirked back

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