i mean i've gotten through almost half of it and it was good but

Rose x Ten, post GitF-au/fixit; angst, fluff, romance, more angst, and possibly some smut later, but this part (and all parts on ff.net) is sfw (minor exception for brief language).

(see the end of this part for notes and special thanks)

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Minuet, Part II

Part I | Part II | Part III

Twisting in his grasp, Rose cranes her neck to look at him, finally, and there he is, all furrowed brow and tight mouth and eyes glittering with anger, and god, if she wasn’t so irritated with him right now, she just might kiss him.

“That’s what you were going to do, isn’t it?” she asks instead.


Eyes widening, the Doctor only has a moment to let his mouth drop open in surprise before another gentleman steps in—time to change dance partners. Rose slips into position with the newcomer without so much as a blink or even a glance in the Doctor’s direction, never faltering in her rhythm; a quick peek at the Doctor moments later tells her that he has allowed himself to be swept up in the tide of dancers, sidling up to his new partner across the room.

Rose turns away, swirling in her partner’s arms, but she can feel the eyes of the Doctor boring into her. She shivers despite the summer heat.

“That’s beside the point,” he whispers when they meet again, touching palm-to-palm first with one hand, then the other. “I’m a Time Lord.”

“Really? First I’ve heard of it,” Rose replies drily.

“I’ve been doing this for a long time, Rose. A very long time. I understand the risks.”

Rose rolls her eyes. “And stupid apes don’t.”

At least the Doctor has the decency to flinch at those words. “That isn’t what I meant.”

“Of course it is,” Rose sighs, and they both step back, granting a berth for other dancers to flit gracefully between them. “After all,” Rose continues when they reconnect, hands clasped, “I’m hardly one of the most accomplished women who ever lived, am I?”

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Ponyboy x Reader

Anonymous asked: “I’m sorry I let you fall for me” Could you do this prompt with ponyboy?

“I’m sorry I let you fall for me.”


He was staring at you, tortured.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, entangling your fingers with his.

Ponyboy set his teeth on edge, turning away first. “There’s a rumble tonight. I don’t know if you heard.”

His words caused your breath to hitch in your throat. Distantly, you felt the Greaser tighten his grip on your hand, his thumb running over your skin in a shaky way. He was scared, that was obvious. You were scared. It was so stupid, both of you knew this.

You were a Soc and he was a Greaser. You’d face each other tonight in battle.

Both of you were sworn enemies. Water and oil. Blessings and curses. Deep and shallow-

“I won’t show.” Ponyboy’s suggestion tore you from your thoughts.

“No,” you said firmly, shaking your head. “They’ll find out. We both need to go.” You sighed. “We just have to try not to meet in the fray.”

Ponyboy looked unsure, but managed a smile. It perished before it reached his eyes, though.

“I love you,” he breathed.

You didn’t like that. This was a big deal, sure, but nobody was going to die. What the two of you had wasn’t going to fade. Your divisions weren’t going to take that away from you guys.

“I love you too, Ponyboy,” you murmured.

You lifted his hand up to your face and kissed the top of it, smiling back at him. “This isn’t going to change anything, you hear? We’re still on our date for Thursday,” you chuckled.

It took a few moments, but ultimately the boy joined you in laughter. “Good. I’ve been saving up some cash. You’re in for a treat, Y/N,” he said contently.

The most obvious issue seemed to wear away at that second, and Ponyboy wrapped his other arm around your shoulder. You exhaled softly as he pulled you close against his chest, running his fingers through your hair and humming easily. You felt his heart beat beneath the heel of your hand as his fingers fell away from yours.

It was dusk. Streams of orange bolted across the sky and melted deep into the horizon. Some stars flickered in and out of sight. You liked the way the scenery reflected off of Ponyboy’s eyes.

The rest of the evening was spent in comfortable silence, with your hands snagging in the boy’s shirt and his fingers combing through your hair. It was too late to relent your feelings for Ponyboy, you knew this. You loved him from the bottom of your heart. He felt the same way towards you. That wouldn’t cease. Well, you hoped it wouldn’t. It was truly your worst fear.

“Ponyboy!” a familiar voice echoed over the terrain.


“Time to come home, bud! Gotta get ready!”

Ponyboy stiffened against you. It was evident that his brother was talking about the upcoming rumble. He pressed his lips to your forehead before gazing down at you.

“I have to go, but, I mean, I’ll see you later,” he stammered.

“Okay. Stay safe.” You kissed his cheek as he stood up. “See you soon.”

“Love you.”

“Love you.”


The night was still. There was no wind. No more stars either, too many clouds. And no Greasers. Yet.

You were sitting on top of the hood of your friend’s car. Most of the Socs were wrestling with each other already, but careful enough not to push each other to the ground. Your outfits were clean, something the Greasers never contributed in rumbles. Playful cursing filled the air and twigs snapped beneath people’s feet. Nobody was scared. Nobody allocated your fears.

“They’re here!” someone cried out.

So they were, you thought. Familiar faces came into your line of sight and you hurried to join your rank.

“Time to demolish the town’s inferior kids,” someone beside you growled. You were too busy looking for Ponyboy to pay them any real mind, though.

You still didn’t know all of the Greasers, but you recognized the three Curtis brothers and some more of their friends. Though a handful of them still looked unfamiliar.

Ponyboy took your breath away when you finally spotted him. It seemed you did the same for him when he saw you. The world between you two froze, and it was simply you and Ponyboy. No other labels were needed.

For a fraction of time, you weren’t a Soc and he wasn’t a Greaser. You were equals. You loved each other, and that was enough.

But the truth caught up to you and just like that, your hopes were eradicated. You were back, and Ponyboy dipped his head, averting your gaze. You did the same.

At this point the two groups were in a line, bracing each other for war. People’s teeth bared and hands formed fists. Anticipation was wearing.

“You cannot be your own saviors,” a Greaser taunted suddenly. It was Ponyboy’s eldest brother. He stepped out from his band and glared at the people you had grown up with.

“You cannot protect yourselves from us,” another Greaser jeered.

You knew the second Greaser. You had never talked to him, but you knew of him. Everyone did. It was Dallas Winston. Patches of purple already stained his knuckles. He was hungry for a fight. He was desperate.

“We wouldn’t dream of protecting ourselves against delinquents,” one of your Socs sneered.

Dallas stepped to the side of Ponyboy’s older brother, Darry, and puffed his chest. He was goading the Socs. You could almost see the steam pouring out of his ears.

“You deserve all of the hurt you’re about to get,” he seethed.

Your fellow Soc gritted his teeth. You saw the muscles straining in his neck, how his jaw tightened, how his eyes gleamed dangerously.

“Good thing your parents’ll be able to pay for your hospital bills,” Dallas stated.

The Soc couldn’t take it any longer. He pounced without say, but Dallas was ready.

The rumble was on.

A Greaser took you by surprise, slugging your shoulder and causing your dominant arm to go numb. His gray eyes flickered, and his grin widened. You did your best to protect yourself, jabbing at his stomach and dodging behind him, kicking the back of his knees. He was strong, though, too tall and too stocky for you to stand a real chance. A snicker escaped him as he landed another punch to your jaw, and you realized who this Greaser was.

Ponyboy had told you stories about the guy who could get out of any business with the fuzz. How he was still a junior at eighteen and a half. How he could brighten up anyone’s day with a joke. As he decorated you with dark colors, you wished you had gotten to know that side of him.

“Two-Bit!” you heard someone shriek. “You’re pummeling a body! Take a real challenge over here.”

That was Ponyboy talking, you perceived leisurely. Two-Bit gave you one last shove, and you stumbled to the ground, receding to your knees. But the male was gone when you peered back up.

By now your body was throbbing in multiple places. The side of your head hurt. You saw yourself curl your fingers, but didn’t feel it. There was a burning sensation in your shoulder.

“Y/N,” a hushed voice said.

Ponyboy was suddenly right beside you. You gazed at him and did your best to hide your smile. He didn’t do the same, but instead put his hand behind your head and repositioned you onto your back, grabbing the collar of your shirt to keep you from falling. At this angle, it looked like he was looming over you, spewing threats. But his eyes were soft and his lip was already bleeding.

“Stay low,” he instructed. “I don’t know how long this will last. This has been building up for months. Both sides are fired up,” he admitted.

“It’s alright,” you told him. “I’m fine. You should go, before someone realizes what you’re doing.”

Ponyboy grimaced, but laid your head on the grass gently.

“I’m sorry I let you fall for me,” he whispered.

You weren’t hurt bad, but your mind was slow, and you told him that he hadn’t let you fall. That he set you down gingerly.

Ponyboy frowned and opened his mouth to speak, although another voice rang out. A Greaser compelled him back to the fight, but he kissed the top of your hand as you had done to him only hours before. Then he bolted away.

anonymous asked:

you guys are adorable! ♡ how long have you two been baking for??


Also it only very indirectly answers your question asfkjlghaogfjn forgive me anon

-Mod Effie

One of Jeremy’s earliest — and happiest — memories is of him helping his parents in the kitchen.

The memory lasts three blurry seconds but it’s one that Jeremy cherishes almost desperately, because in it are two things he’ll never have again: his mother, and a father who smiles and means it.

In the memory Jeremy is five years old and carefree, banging dough into a mostly-flat lump. His mother giggles at something his father says and kisses him on the cheek, expertly drizzling sauce over a crepe. (It’s strawberry. Their favourite.) His father laughs and steals another kiss.

They are happy.

Fast forward a few years and Jeremy is ten. He is ten and last night his mother kissed him goodnight for the last time in his life. This morning his father sits at the kitchen table dead-eyed and slumped over. He doesn’t look up when Jeremy enters the room.

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Thank God For Porn

Originally posted by robbie-andrewkay

Pairing:  Peter Pan x Reader

Prompt:  Anonymous asked: #60 for Pan

Warning:  SMUT! Cursing

A/N:  This is definitely an A.U! Hope you enjoy, loves!


Living on your own was a lot harder than you expected. Sure it gave you unprecedented freedoms, and you really didn’t have to worry about wearing clothes around the house, but still. Your tiny flat was always eerily quiet, and paying the rent was never fun. However, you still enjoyed being on your own, the solace of the flat always bringing you joy.

This joy was short lived, though. You were sitting in your living room slumped against the faux leather couch, finally allowing yourself to relax after a stressful day of work. You sighed loudly, letting your eyes slowly drop, the sound of the T.V. fading into nothingness. Just when you were about to allow yourself to fall asleep, your phone rang loudly throughout the flat. You groaned loudly, slightly pissed that you couldn’t have at least a few moments of peace. You reluctantly forced yourself to stand, walking over to where you set your phone. You picked it up and saw it was your boss calling. You sighed loudly before answering. “Hello?”

“(Y/N), we need you to come in early tomorrow. John’s taking the day off and we need you to cover for him. See you at 6:00 a.m. sharp.” And with that, your boss promptly hung up. You wanted to scream, but you didn’t. You just sighed, and decided to go to sleep. You would need all the sleep you could get for tomorrow. You undressed quickly, and decided to forgo any real pajamas. You crawled into bed with only your underwear and attempted to get comfortable. You reached over to the bed side table, and turned off the lamp sitting there. After what felt like mere seconds, you felt sleep consume your body, the last thing you thought before falling to sleep was “Tomorrow is gonna be hell.”

You had all but forced yourself awake. You slowly sat up, a long yawn escaping from your throat. You rubbed your face, attempting to wake up more. You threw your legs over the edge of the bed and slowly stood up. Walking over to the closet, you chose an outfit that would at least keep you comfortable during the day. After putting on the ensemble of a flannel and leggings, you went into the bathroom for put on some light make-up and throw your hair up into a ponytail. When you were ready to leave it was 5:30, leaving your 30 minutes to get to the diner to start your shift. You walked out your flat and locked the door behind you, silently hoping that today wouldn’t be too horrible. You got into your car and drove to the diner, ready to start the day.

The day was hectic to say the least. The customers were rude, your boss was incredibly hard on you, and the tips were absolutely horrible. The only bright side was you were allowed to leave early, seeing as you had worked for almost twelve hours straight. The only thing your mind at this point was getting home, and going to sleep. You got into your car, and sped home.

You parked quickly, and rushed to the front door of your flat; you unlocked the door and stepped in, slamming the door behind you. You plopped yourself down on the couch, a deep sigh resonated through the flat. You felt like complete and utter shit. You wanted nothing more than to eat and go to sleep. Just when you were getting comfortable, you heard a knock on your day. Confused, you stood up and walked over to the door.

You opened the door and saw a boy you had never seen before. He was dressed in almost all green, his outfit reminding you of the forest. His mousy hair was swooped perfectly on his head. He had the greenest eyes you had ever seen, and his boyish face gave him the appearance of youth. He looked…kind of cute. One thing that stood out, however, was his expression. He looked as if he was about to pass out, his body hunched over slightly, a look of pain crossed his boyish features. He looked up at you, and his body swayed slightly. You caught him in before he fell over, and the one thing you hear is a quiet whisper of “Help me,” before promptly passing out in your arms.

Your eyes widened in shock, not sure what to do about the boy asleep in your arms. You decided, against all better judgement, to help him. You dragged him into your flat, kicking the door shut behind you with your foot. You pulled his limp body over to the couch and laid him flat on the cold leather. Once he was situated on the couch, you simply stared at him. You had no idea what to do about the stranger on your couch. Before he had passed out, you could tell he was in pain, but at the same time you had no idea who he was. Against all better judgement, you knew you needed to help him.

You walked into the kitchen, deciding you needed a drink. You got a beer from the fridge, and hoisted yourself onto the counter. You sighed lowly before taking a sip of your beer. Almost an hour and a half had passed, your first beer long gone and you were already halfway through your second. You had been mulling over the pros and cons of letting the stranger stay with you. You were so lost in thought that you almost hadn’t noticed the boy slowly awaking on your couch. Almost.

You heard a soft groan escape from the boy’s lips like a silent prayer. You got off the counter and got a water bottle from the fridge. You walked over to where the boy was laying, and tapped his shoulder with your free hand, the other holding out the cold water. He looked up a you and gratefully took the water. He had downed half the bottle before stopping to breathe. You decided you needed some answers. “So, mind telling me your name? I mean, if you’re going to be staying here, I figured I should at least no your name.”

He merely chuckled in response, seemingly pleased with the sass in your voice. A light smirk danced across his lips as if it were meant to be there. You had to admit, you found his expression…attractive. “Oh, I’m sorry love. Did I forget to introduce myself? I’m Peter. Peter Pan.”

Your expression turned into one of disbelief. Okay. It’s official. You have an insane man in your house. “Right, you’re Peter Pan. And I’m Wendy Darling. Now would you mind telling me who you really are, otherwise I might kick you out of my house, no matter how hurt you are.”

At this, he let a full in laugh. “Now, love, I really am Peter Pan. I never understood why you people never believe me when I tell them that.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re a storybook character? You’re not supposed to be real. What are you doing here anyways, and why do you seem to be hurt?” You didn’t exactly believe his story, per say, but you knew he needed help.  

“Well love, as it turns out I got into some trouble with some people who didn’t want their son in Neverland. One even tried to kill me, hence the injury. I’m sorry to bother you, love I just needed a place to go, I suppose.” You looked at him, concern etched across your face. You kneeled down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder as a way to comfort him.

“Well, you can stay here as long as you need. It seems like you could use it. I’m (Y/N), by the way. I figured you deserved to know, seeing as we might be living together.”

He smiled, the first real smile you had seen while he was here. You gave a soft smile in return, knowing that this would be the start of a good friendship.

Time Skip (Six Months Later)

Peter Pan was NOT what you expected him to be. Whoever gave Disney the idea that he was a sweet, kind boy was incredibly wrong.  He was mischievous, evil, and completely childish. Even worse, he knew practically nothing about our world, being on Neverland so long kept him from knowing all of the world’s advances. You had to teach him just about everything. He had become attached to technology, loving the “magic story box”, his words, not yours.

But no matter how incredibly infuriating Peter was, you couldn’t help grow fond of him. His constant sense of adventure meant you never had a boring day, and he always knew how to make you smile. He’d tell you stories of his adventures, his eyes lighting up at the fond memories.  You had fallen in love with the green of his eyes, the way they reminded you of a forest and sparkled in the sun. You had fallen in love with the curve of his plump lips when he smirked. You had fallen in love with everything about the demon boy, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The day had started off normally. You had awoken early to get ready for the day. After putting on your clothes and make-up, you stepped out of your room to the kitchen. You filled the kettle with water and put in on the stove, turning it on and waiting for the water to boil. You scrolled through your phone, not bothering to look up when you heard Peter walk into the kitchen. The familiar whistle of the kettle rang through the apartment, and you walked over and poured the scalding water into two mugs. After the tea was done steeping, the pair of you lazily sipped your tea in silence.

You looked over at the time and realized you needed to leave soon. You quickly washed out your mug and put your shoes on. “Bye Peter! I’ll be home later. Call if you need anything!” you exclaimed. You merely got a nod in response. That was odd. Peter was unusually quiet this morning. Usually, he had some sort of snarky remark at the ready, but the silence was not something you were used to. You thought nothing of it, thinking maybe he hadn’t gotten enough sleep.

Work, as usual, was hectic. The amount of strangers flirting with you today, and the obnoxious people who thought they were better than everyone in the diner was enough to make anyone exhausted. After your shift was over, you decided you deserved a coffee to wake yourself up. After getting your coffee in a shop that was completely overpriced, you drove home, ready to relax and not have to worry about anything for the rest of the night.

When you got home, you closed the door behind yourself, then automatically flopping onto the couch, letting a giant groan into the comfy black leather. Just as your thoughts began to subside you heard a noise, like a groan, ringing through the flat. Confused, you stood up, walking towards the noise, seemingly coming from Peter’s room. As you got closer, however, you heard a mixture of male and female moans and groans. Your face flushed red, unsure of what to do in this situation. You weren’t naive, far from it, actually. You knew what those noises meant; you just never imagined you’d hear them here.  You took a deep breath in, deciding to go in and confront the situation. Yes, it’s not like you and Peter were dating, but it still hurt. And you wanted to give him a piece of your mind. You wrapped your hand around the door knob, and pushed the door open.

What you saw, you can honestly say, you didn’t expect. Pan was sitting down at the computer you had gotten him, his shirt long gone and his trousers around his ankles, his hand wrapped tightly around his manhood. The computer was displaying a woman, her face contorted in pleasure as she harshly rode her partner, whom shared the same look of absolute pleasure on his face. Your eyes widened at the sight, your mouth gaping open and your face flushing an impossible shade of red. You were so shocked and aroused you had no idea what to do, so you quickly said the first thing that came to mind. “Are…Are you watching porn?!”

At the sound of your voice, Peter let out a startled yelp, nearly falling out of his chair. He quickly paused the video, and turned to face you with embarrassment clear on his face. “(Y/N)! I-I can explain, love!” he stammered out, his pants still in a pool around his legs. You looked down at the exposed area and immediately regretted, feeling your face getting warmer as you did so. This action didn’t go unnoticed by Peter, however. His embarrassment quickly faded, in its place a cocky smirk took over.

He stepped out his pants, his fully naked body on display. He walked over to and fear over took your entire being. For every step he made towards you, you took a step back, until it was you pressed up against the wall, his arms caging you in. He leaned down until your lips were merely inches apart, his breath fanning across your face. “Did you like what you saw, my little lost girl?” he says, his normally low voice dripping with lust. You nearly moaned at his words, and you could feel the heat of arousal bloom in your stomach.

Your eyes snapped shut and you tilted your head slightly to the side, trying to put some distance between you and the naked male trapping you against the wall. You suddenly felt one of his long fingers tilting your chin back towards him, making little space between the two of you.  He leaned down ever so slightly so his lips would brush against yours. “Let’s play.” He muttered silently before slamming his lips against yours in a passionate kiss.

Your mind went blank; the feeling of his lips finally upon yours was better than you had ever imagined. You pressed your lips against his with equal fervor. It felt as if you were made to be here, your lips molded against his, the feel of this body fitting against yours perfectly. You felt Peter open his mouth slightly, his tongue poking out and tracing the line of your lips, begging for entrance.

You moaned softly at the feeling, opening your lips slightly to allow him in. His tongue immediately darted into your mouth, his tongue moving against your own. It felt like the two of you stayed like this for hours, wrapped up in each other’s embraces and not willing to break free just yet. Peter suddenly pulled away, his breath coming out in heavy pants.

You opened your eyes, and saw him before you, his eyes dark with lust and a hungry expression plastered on his face. You saw something inside the boy snap, and he quickly descended upon your neck, biting and sucking harshly at any skin that he came across. You moaned at the sensation, your eyes quickly closed and your hands flew up to grip his hair as if to keep him in place. He smirked at your actions, obviously pleased that he drew it out of you. You felt his hand trail up under the length of your shirt, simply kneading the flesh of your hip.

You felt him tug on the fabric of your shirt, as if silently asking if it was okay for him to take it off. You merely nodded in response, eager to get rid of any clothing and to be closer to him. He made quick work of your shirt and bra, throwing them across the room when he was done with the flimsy material. His hands trailed over the smooth skin of your stomach, until finally reaching your breasts. He cupped them in each hand, his thumb rolling over your nipples.

You moaned loudly, the feeling of his hands against one of your most intimate areas was absolutely sinful. His assault on your breasts never ceased or slowed, even while he was tailing bites down your neck to where you wanted him most. He bit down on your collarbone, making you gasp loudly. He simply smirked against your skin in response. He kissed a trail from you collarbone to the top of your breast. He planted a quick kiss to the sensitive skin before taking his thumb off your nipples, only for it to be replaced with his lips.

Your hand shot to cover your mouth, embarrassed by the sounds escaping you. You suddenly felt his hand wrap around your wrist, forcing you to uncover your mouth. Your eyes shoot upon, looking at him in slight confusion. “No, love. Don’t cover your pretty sounds. I want to hear everything I do to you.” He whispered, the words dripping with lust. You whimpered and felt yourself grow surprisingly wet. You saw him smirk in return, and he suddenly unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them and your underwear down in a single tug. You stepped out of the uncomfortable denim and stood fully naked in front of Peter.

He looked upon your naked form, love and lust prominent in his gaze. “My God, love, you are so beautiful. You have no idea what you do to me.”

His hand dragged down the front of your body, the feeling of his calloused hand on your smooth skin sent shivers down your spine. He finally reached the place you desperately wanted, your cunt throbbing with need for him.

“Peter, please.” You moaned out, desperate to feel him in you. He chuckled slightly, loving how desperate you were for him.

“How could I ever say no to my little lost girl?” he said before he slowly dragged the tip of his finger against your outer lips. You gasped, the feeling of his finger sending shocks through your body. You were so needy for him, it was hard to concentrate on anything else other than him. He suddenly pushed a finger completely inside of you, and you moaned loudly at the intrusion. He pumped his finger slowly in and out of you, the slow pace driving you insane. You whimpered, desperate for more friction. He pushed another finger into, keeping the same slow pace.

Peter leaned down, his breath tickling your ear. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you love? While watching that horrid video the only thing I could see was the image of you on me, riding me for all I’m worth. You’d like that wouldn’t you, (Y/N)? Do you like the idea of riding my cock until you come?” You moaned at the filthy words, the confession making your cunt wetter than it already was.

He groaned, noticing you becoming wetter at his words. He could feel you tightening around the two digits, your moans and whimpers becoming louder and more frequent. The small calls of his name in such a way sent arousal straight to his already hard cock. He suddenly pulled his fingers out of you, and you whined at the loss. He placed a small kiss upon your forehead before putting his fingers in his mouth, making eye contact as he sucked them dry. You moaned at the sight, seeing him like this was truly erotic.

He suddenly gripped your hips, pushing up against the wall. “Jump.” He said, his voice deep with arousal. You did as he asked, jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a sweet kiss, and he slowly positioned his cock at your entrance, and slowly slid into your wet heat. You both moaned in unison, both feeling complete, like a missing jigsaw piece finally getting into place.

Peter quickly picked up the pace; practically slamming into you and a relentless pace, the mixture of your moans and groans filled the room. He buried his face in your neck, whispering things that went from sweet to dirty, such as I love you; your cunt feels like home; you take me so well; you’re so bloody tight love. Your hands were in his hair, not caring how hard you tugged on the mousy locks. Peter didn’t seem to mind, it actually seemed to spur him on more.

You felt yourself approaching your climax, your cunt tightening around his perfect cock. You moaned is name loudly, your grip on his hair tightening.

“That’s it love. Come around my cock. Scream my name; let everyone know who you belong to.” Peters voiced was muffled by your neck, but you could hear him loud and clear. You came with a loud cry of his name, your vision becoming blurry from pleasure. Peter followed shortly behind you, a drawn out groan of your name on his lips.

The both of you stood there, you still pressed against the wall and Peter still buried in your neck. You limply hung off of him, your breathing coming out as load panting, still trying to catch your breath. Peter carried you over the bed and carefully lay you down as if he was afraid to hurt you.  He crawled into bed next to you, pulling you into his chest and not letting you move. You smiled slightly, fading in and out of consciousness. Peter placed a light kiss upon your forehead before quietly whispering, “Go to sleep, love. I’ll be here when you wake up. I love you, my little lost girl.”

You simply smiled before replying with a simple “I love you too, Peter Pan.”

byulyi  asked:

prompt: byulyi loves her videogames and when she gets the newest tekken or whatever she PLAYS IT FOR DAYS and yong is so pissed that she insists on playing vs. her to get her to stop and then wrecks her and byul is so ????

Byulyi gets obsessive. Yongsun usually likes that part of her, if only because she looks really hot when she’s concentrating. This however, is too much.

There’s nothing hot about Byulyi on her third day sitting on the couch without a shower, hair a bit tussled, glasses sliding off her nose, eyes glued to the TV screen. Actually, it was a little hot, but Yongsun was still annoyed. Byulyi didn’t even come to bed until 3am last night because she was on that new game she got.

Yongsun didn’t know how she could stay entertained when it just looked like all the other fighting games, but when she asked about it, Byulyi just went into a long lecture about how no, there’s actually a very complicated story that I can tell you about, and it starts with this character right here, the one with his face burned off and

She’d checked out then. Byulyi kept going for who knows how long, but the girl was into the story enough that Yongsun started playing Sudoku on her phone and Byulyi just kept rambling.

But today, enough was enough. Yongsun was having a really good hair day, face day, makeup day, everything day, and they were going out whether Mr. Burned-Face succeeded in destroying the world or not. She walked right between Byul and the TV and planted her feet, trying to look firm.

Byulyi immediately paused the game and looked up at her girlfriend. Yongsun had done this enough that Byulyi didn’t really get ruffled, she just perpetually had her finger floating over pause whenever Yongsun entered her peripherals.

“What’s up, babe?” 

Oh no, she pulled the ‘babe’ card, but Yongsun was going to stand her ground. She was already dressed. She had looked up somewhere to go. She was not going to go down without a fight. Someone was going to win today, and today?

Today, Yongsun was just too cute to lose.

“Byul, you’ve been on this thing for three days.” She pouted for maximum effect. “I’m feeling a little neglected.”

“Ah! I’m sorry Unnie, do you want to come sit with me?” There it is. Byulyi was trying to get this to go her way by being sweet. Her open arms looked really inviting though…No! Yongsun had found the perfect place for them to spend their day and by god she was going to get there.

“Let’s go out, Byul, it’s really nice today.” She smoothed the dress she was wearing, a blaring signal to Byulyi that yes, it’s also because I feel pretty today.

“I’m…I’m almost done with this storyline though, really…” Byulyi bit her lip and looked between Yongsun and the pause screen. Mr. Burned-Face had just found his long-thought dead second cousin, the semi-boss to the mini-boss that would unlock the final fight. Probably.

“That means at least four more hours Byul.” She sat next to the girl, pulling her eye towards her. “I want to go out while the sun’s still shining.” And I’m still shining, she thought.

“Not four.” Byulyi reached for her controller. “Maybe like two and a half since I’ve gotten pretty good.”

“No!” Yongsun grabbed her hands and let her mouth run wild, the usual case when she got frustrated. “If you’re so good, then you don’t need to be playing anymore! Actually if you’re so good let’s make a bet.” Byulyi stared at her wide-eyed at the sudden challenge. “Let’s do a battle, or whatever that fighting thing is. You can do that right? Let’s do that. If I lose I’ll let you finish in peace but if I win you have to listen to whatever I want and also you won’t be good at this game. You’ll be bad.” She paused. “You’ve been bad.” Yongsun pouted.

Byulyi chuckled at Yongsun’s outburst, but she relented. The sooner she beat Yongsun at the game, the sooner she could go back to finishing the plot. And then her mind wouldn’t itch from curiosity anymore and she could devote all her time to her girlfriend again. But looking at the sad mochi in front of her…

Yongsun really did look so beautiful today.

“Alright Unnie. Here, take this controller.” She said, handing Yongsun the one she had set on table earlier.

“Isn’t this one yours?”

“Don’t worry, I can connect another one.” She opened the cabinet and held up another controller, giving Yongsun a cute smile. She turned it on and a little notification appeared at the top of the screen saying ‘Player 2 connected’. 

“Here lemme set up a game real fast.” She took back the gamepad in Yongsun’s hands and went through the menus so fast, Yongsun didn’t even see the screens.

“Don’t I get to pick a character?” She asked as the controller was handed back to her.

“What, so you can lose in style?” Byulyi smirked picking up the second gamepad.

“You’ll eat those words, Moon Byulyi.”

“Sure, sure. You’re the pink strawberry looking thing.” Yongsun looked at her avatar bouncing up and down, looking real angry. The top of the screen had the name RAWBERRY over a green line. Was that her health bar? Well, whatever, she guessed it was kind of cute.

“So I just use these to move?” She fiddled with the twirly sticks in her hands. Byulyi couldn’t stop grinning at how cute Yongsun looked, trying to figure things out.

She listed out all the button combinations and special attacks the character had and Yongsun of course listened to all the way and retained all that information.

Oh, the button with an ‘X’ on it, not the one that was shaped like an ‘X’.


10 minutes later Byulyi was getting her ass handed to her.

“Oh my god what am I doing what am I doing—did I just do that?”

“Yes! You did! STOP IT!!!”

“Oh my gosh Byul why are you just running around and punching that air?”

“Because you won’t stop combo-ing me! And I’m trying to prep for an attack that you keep interrupting! How are you doing that?!”

“I’m just smashing buttons. Oh what did I just do?”

Byulyi stared soullessly at the screen. “You’re about to take my last life…” Her Robot Centaur was swaying in front of Rawberry and the button combo for a Brutal KO flashed on the screen. Yongsun fumbled around with the controls.

“Um, wait where is the triangle shaped one…”

Byulyi watched the Brutal KO timer drain down just like her will was draining out of her. She hit some buttons on her own controller and suddenly Rawberry’s seeds launched out of its body, turning into hundreds of needles and effectively turning Robot Centaur into a horsecupine.

“Did I do that? How did I do that?” Solar asked excitedly, despite grimacing at the violent scene.

Byulyi shrugged and sighed, “Um, sometimes it just plays the scene even if you don’t hit all the buttons.” She took off her glasses and rubbed her tired eyes. “Kim Yongsun you are truly incredible. Why don’t you go get the rest of your stuff ready? I’ll turn off the TV and take a quick shower. Yong-princess and I can do whatever she wants for the rest of today.”

Yongsun squealed and gave Byulyi a quick peck on her cheek. “Thank you, Byul-ah.” She gave her another kiss before jumping up to find the rest of her things.

Byulyi smiled at how her girlfriend skipped around, too elated to notice the victory screen on the TV. Under Rawberry a banner rolled out with ‘PLAYER 2’ painted on it.

Byulyi really did want to finish the plot today, but she probably needed that shower.

And well, Yongsun was just too cute to lose.

anonymous asked:

Do u think the bad writing in VLD has been rife since the 1st episode? Or is this a new devt in S3? I've always thought the writing has always been oversimple since the start. I fucking hated that finger counting bit just about as things were getting serious and that was the pilot. And things always got resolved in like 1 episode. Like hello? They were able to bond and form Voltron in 1 episode? (1/2)

I dont get ppls expectations abt the show which for me has always been unsophisticated and juvenile albeit still entertaining. Maybe its just a case of BNFs headcanons being mistaken for canon by fandom bc of the long periods bw seasons. (2/2)

I feel like this is actually two questions, so I’m going to answer the shorter one (ahaha yes this is a short answer!) here, and get into the measure of writing quality in a separate post. 

When it comes to BNFs, I’ve gotten reasonably good at identifying their personal agendas masquerading as analysis. That said, yes, the long gap definitely gives time for head canons to percolate, and I’m not entirely convinced that this works for this kind of story. (Or alternately, that this crew of EPs/writers realize the extent to which one-season drops radically alter the viewing experience, and how storytelling methods need to adjust.) 

Truth is, I had zero expectations for VLD. I remember the original and let’s just say, I’ve moved on. On the other hand, my exposure to AtLA’s tonal shifts (from serious to ham-fisted comedic in nothing flat) meant I was used to gritting my teeth through tin-eared comedy-attempts like meat thermometers or finger-counting. 

And then there’s issue of unsophisticated or juvenile storytelling.  

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anonymous asked:

Okay so MAYBE I've been reading too much Xmen but I'm really into the idea of characters meeting their time displaced future kids and I'd die to see a Penumbra version? Bonus points if they're from ~the darkest timeline~ where their parents are dead 🖤🖤 (I love u and your headcanons so much ur a gift to us all)

ohhhh, Anon, I have spent the last two weeks binging arsPARADOXICA, and trust me when I say right now my head is full of future selves and dark timelines and people making terrible, terrible decisions with time travel. consequently this may have gotten away from me and I may have written this instead of taking notes in my last class, but please accept this totally unbeta’d 2.5k.

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myurbandream  asked:

Cliche AU fic prompt: do you write Codywan??? Because I have a sudden need for some fluffy Codywan fic. I'd love a Celebrity AU or a Cops AU, but really anything, I'm not picky!!

jawejf;aoiejr I ran out of steam on this I’m sorry but anyone’s welcome to pick up? Or you can throw it back into sw’verse and make Obi-Wan Space Anderson Cooper, that would actually be fantastic. 

@aidava and I would be glad to see it 

especially “if you can incorporate the ‘the less anderson cooper is wearing, the more dire the reporting situation’ joke”, as aidava says :D

oh yeah! so basically since ‘sharing a cab au’ landed on that prompt list twice I figured I’d feel free and make another. so I smashed together cops au and celebrity au and got bodyguard au so uh there u go

Cody checked his watch as he popped the cap of the cheap coffee he’d picked up at the bagel shop near his apartment complex. It was quarter to six and raining, a cold, wet, and absolutely miserable start to the day.

Not that it was the start of the day for him—no, that had been at two in the bloody morning, waking up in a cold sweat and shaking with adrenaline, tangled in his sheet on the floor. It wasn’t the worst he’d been in the last couple months, but it did smack a bit of irony that now, when he finally had a job to focus on, the nightmares immediately came rushing back to ruin his first day.

All he had to do was drive some famous person around, possibly keep admirers off them from venue to vehicle to home. Not that he was currently parked and and waiting in an area that screamed ‘famous people’, but hells, what did he know. Rent-controlled apartments, Jewish community—apart from the synagogue he’d driven past, there was no mistaking the dark overcoats and hats. Cody hadn’t exactly been keeping up with the latest news and entertainment, but for the life of him he couldn’t imagine who it was he was meant to be chauffeuring. He knew where Maria Callas used to live—hello, odd bits of a past life’s study at Julliard—and he knew one of his professors’ assistants lived in this area. That didn’t give him any clues to go on.

Although, now he thought about it—Maria Callas hadn’t lived far from here, closer to West Side Highway. He tried to imagine providing security for a musician of her calibre, and couldn’t. It was too far out of the realm of his typical assignments.

He grimaced into his coffee, which got only less tolerable with every sip—he’d seen the new guy manning the coffee machine at the bagel place this morning, so he really should’ve known. At least the liquid had burned away half his tastebuds while it was still scalding.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cody caught a glimpse of something that must have been unusual. He looked up—yeah, the leather jacket and messenger bag were certainly a bit out of the ordinary, for what he’d seen so far. The man looked good, though, Cody thought—especially when he turned and started down the street in his direction. Right at that moment the windshield wipers sluiced off a generous bit of water and gave him a better view. It took two seconds for Cody to put a name to that face, and then connect it to the direction he’d taken. He choked and nearly spilled his cup of morning poison.

He knew exactly what his assignment was.

Obi-Wan Kenobi dropped into his backseat with a huff. “Good morning. I’m sorry, I thought I told Depa I didn’t need a car this morning.”

Cody swallowed. “Well, Ms. Billaba wanted me to let you know that she’d be covering expenses for as long as she thinks it’s necessary to keep you safe.”

Obi-Wan flashed him a wry grin. “Understood. I’ll direct all complaints to her.”

Cody felt his neutral working mask drop down, and put the lid back on his coffee. “We make every effort to provide satisfactory service to all our clients.”

“Oh, I have complete faith in your abilities,” Kenobi said with an absolutely disarming grin. “I’m just worried you’d be wasting your time with me, that’s all.”

Uh-huh. “Yes, sir.”

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              As far as villains go, Cass thought, the Red Hood wasn’t so bad.  Yes, he killed people, and that was inexcusable, but at least he didn’t kill innocents.  Plus, having once been Robin had to count for something, right?

              Which is why Cass didn’t turn around and leave when she saw Jason Todd sitting in the café on the corner of 15th and Larimer right where her “blind date” was supposed to be.

              The date had been Stephanie’s idea.  Cass needed some “normal socialization,” according to her, and Barbara had agreed.  So the three spent an afternoon taking photos of Cassandra from every angle and describing her in flattering half-truths (“How do you spend your free time?” “Fighting criminals.” “… Studying martial arts sounds better.”).  It didn’t take long for people to start contacting her, which Cass quickly learned was not always a good thing.  Quite a few people – mostly older men – sent her some very unsavory messages, often accompanied by unwarranted images of their supposedly impressive genitals.  One man in particular, a 54-year-old named Brad, had sent a message so vile that Cass had to physically restrain Stephanie from tracking him down and smashing his face in.

              Several people, though, had sent nice messages and seemed to genuinely want to get to know Cass. She got to chatting with most of them, and found that she actually enjoyed conversing with these strangers, though the textual communication was downright aggravating.  More than a little bit was lost when body language and emotion couldn’t be read.

              So when one of the strangers, who used the moniker ‘noprideallprejudice’ suggested meeting up in person, Cass jumped at the chance.  They agreed on a time and location, and Cass spent the morning being poked and prodded by Stephanie, who’d insisted on helping her friend get ready.

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quietsilenceus  asked:

Tsuna's s/o's parents oppose to their marrage? How would Tsuna react and what would he do to keep her? I've been watching a lot of K-drama lately so yeah... Maybe Reborn and Yamamoto too if you can (your option to do or not) Thank you ^^


“Any particular reason why you are always avoiding introducing me to your parents or mentioning them at all?” He idly asked one night as he watched you write out another wedding invitation, almost half a year early from the actual day. Your hand stuttered in surprise, making your signature a little lop-sided as you turned your attention to your fiancé warily. He was the picture of boredom, one arm propped up on the dining room table as it supported his head, the other mechanically adding his signature to the finished invitations.

His tawny eyes, however, were focused. That gave him away more than the slight crease between his eyebrows.

Unsure how to even begin to explain, you stalled, “Um…”

His lips pursed and he set down the ink pen, foregoing his pretense at being casual. “You also don’t have their names on the invite list. I know they exist and that they still live, considering that there aren’t any recent obituaries in their name, so what gives?”

“Tsuna, does it really matter?” You tried, voice pleading. “I’ve met yours and I think they’re lovely. Nana and Iemitsu are more than enough for me.”

“…Are you ashamed?” He asked after a long pause. “In beginning…” He frowned. “Actually, even now, I haven’t met anyone from before I knew you. Like your past life is separate from the one you live now, as if you’re embarrassed to —“

“That’s not it at all!” You interrupted frantically, spotting a glimpse of the hurt in his expression before he smoothed it over into a mask of detached interest. “It’s not me who’s ashamed, it’s — I — Tsuna, I could never be ashamed of you.”

“Then who is?” The don asked in frustration, having caught your slip up before you had altered your sentence halfway through it. “The parents whom I’ve never met? The crowd of people from your childhood that I don’t know about? Old friends that might not exist? Tell me. Now would be as good of a time as any.” Privately, he thought to himself that he should have asked this before now, but it really hadn’t occurred to him to press you about it, since you didn’t press him for details that he wasn’t willing to give freely.

It was only recently after he had proposed to you, that he had started noticing the glaring hole your past presented; that he only knew of the past seven years of your life, the rest being spotty and vague at best; that he realized that there were a lot of things he didn’t know beyond what you told him and what he had been able to dig up. He had to be losing his touch if it took him this long to become suspicious…

Either that, or it just proved further how much Tsuna really did love you that he would ignore his instincts to respect your decisions, trusting you to tell him.

Seeing your uncomfortable expression and defensive posture, he coaxed, “You know you can tell me anything, right? You’ve seen me at my worst, Y/n. You know that there’s nothing you could say or have done that I haven’t heard or did myself.” Standing, he strode around the table to come behind you, callused hands resting on your shoulders before slid up and down your arms comfortingly as Tsuna leaned forward to murmur in your ear, “There is nothing that the future Queen of the Underworld could have possibly done or experienced that would shock me, or make me hate you, Y/n… Even if you were a spy, that would just mean that there would be an enemy famiglia to eliminate before I take you as mine, permanently.”

Orange flames flared to life on his rings, the engagement one glowing the brightest. The one on your hand flickered briefly in response as you relaxed against him, mumbling you assent. “Okay, you’re right. I just… My parents are… Well, they’re not a part of my life. Once I moved away from where I grew up, I didn’t look back. My home is here now, you know this.”

“Yes, but I still want to know, so tell me, Y/n,” he purred, one hand slipping up your neck and cupping your face, gently tipping it back to kiss you on the lips. “For me.”

Searching his now orange eyes, you decided to relent, giving in to the beast who held your heart captive. “I ran away when I was seventeen,” you confessed. “Before that I used to get into fights or worked with small time gangs, sometimes I would sell drugs and weed for them in exchange for sampling the merchandise. Most of my friends were either in gangs or worked in clubs. I can resourceful if I want to be, and managed it hide it for years… But I got sloppy and my father caught on pretty quick after I started skipping almost all my classes. When they found out… They were so furious, wanted to reform me and ‘straighten me out’. We fought all the time, especially when they found out about my part time job as a pole-dancer at the club…”

You sighed, closing your eyes and gripping Tsuna’s fingers for strength. “…I tried getting in contact with them once, after I met you. Right after I met yours, actually.” You gave a bitter laugh. “You know what they thought? That I had gotten knocked up and was looking for a place to stay. They asked if I learnt my lesson. I hung up before it could get any further and tossed the phone in the nearby river so they couldn’t contact me again… Sorry about lying that I lost it.”

“It’s fine,” he dismissed, mind already occupied with the new information. Absently, he tugged the pen that was still clenched in one hand out of your grasp. “I say that we did enough invitations for tonight.”

Your parents weren’t mentioned again, but Tsuna took it upon himself to contact them by going through your call history at the phone company, specifically the last call you made on that day you had talked to them. No details were given, but he had told them that as your fiancé, he had taken it upon himself to cordial invite them to the wedding, on the condition that they could set aside their hostility for at least one day. And, if not, that they weren’t invited at all and better not show up to ruin what was going to be the happiest day of their daughter’s life. Or else.

You cried when the day came and your father walked you down the aisle.

Beyond Memory
[The follow-up I meant to write for this and this.] ————— When Sam showed up at the door he was out of breath, “I’m sorry… should have waited ‘till morning… couldn’t quite tell on the phone … did you find Bucky or not?”

Steve just stepped aside and let him see the man sitting placidly at the kitchen table.  “He was here when I got home.”

Sam walked up and cautiously sized up the Winter Soldier – dressed in a stolen hoodie and t-shirt, hair tied up in an awkward ponytail and a sporting a ratty beard, he didn’t look like the same man who’d almost killed everyone 6 months ago.  “So *this* is why you’ve been taking on all those crazy missions and ignoring us?  Because this guy only shows up when you’re in danger?"  The Winter Soldier looked at Sam, and he felt a chill.  Same blank eyes, though.  They both turned to Steve.

"Yes.  It started with Philadelphia, the time with the robots."  Steve seemed surprisingly calm for someone whose long-lost and brainwashed best friend just showed up in his kitchen.  "He’s been getting me out of dangerous missions ever since.  I haven’t been able to track him down, until tonight."  Steve paused, then said drily, "He’s here to report that he hasn’t been able to find Bucky.”

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Small Worlds, Big Hearts

sooooo after finally finishing KH:3D and catching up on all the other games I’d skipped I am deep into islander trio hell and ramflega‘s work is freaking amazing and I suppose this was only a matter of time but here we are anyway

thank you rams for inspiring to get off my writer butt and work a little

When they surfaced on the play island, the water sliding up under his shirt helped a little to push away the lingering aching in his body, enough that he didn’t wince when Mickey launched at him, didn’t flinch too hard when Kairi hugged him.

When they got back to the main island, a flurry of hugs and fingers jabbing into his chest made his face progressively darker, but he took a page from Sora’s book and smiled as much as he could, if only to put his family and the others’ families at ease.

Kairi insisted that they all spend the night in one place, if only to reassure herself that they were really, truly back… and not about to run off again. Their parents made a few aborted protesting noises, but it seemed Kairi had ingratiated herself to both their families while they were gone, because their moms just looked at each other, then at her, and smiled what Riku thought were oddly sad, patient smiles, and agreed, so long as the boys were back home the next day.

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like a properly calculated algorithm

i’ve fallen into college au kurodai hell (please don’t help me out)

Daichi’s used to late nights. Long hours and stiff backs are part and parcel of his education as a computer science major, and the campus library is practically a second home. He’s a firmly established fixture in the quiet section, tucked away at a desk near walls of reference books, just close enough to a window that he can claim he gets a good measure of sunlight most days. Though lately Daichi’s been seeing more starlight through that window than anything else; he’s pretty sure he can track the passage of time purely from the position of the moon, and right now he’s looking up at a full one and guessing it’s at least past midnight.

It’s one AM, and Daichi’s sighing into the depths of his textbook. He’s been stuck on the same problem for at least twenty minutes, and though he’s not getting anywhere, he can’t bring himself to just give up. So there he is, head in hands, staring at a half-finished equation like he can make it write itself through sheer willpower alone.

“Looks like you’re having a productive night, Sawamura.”

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anonymous asked:

I've gotta prompt:)) Clarke and Bellamy get paired up in a buddy system at a house party but they obvs don't get on, and then angsty stuff ensues

addicted to you // ao3

a/n: So this got really raunchy for me (sorry not sorry) and I’d absolutely be lying if I said I didn’t write ¾ of this to I Need a Hero from the Shrek 2 soundtrack so let that inform your reading.

None of this would have been a problem if Octavia hadn’t gone and gotten herself a boyfriend.  Of this, Bellamy was sure.

Or really, he could have just said no.  Bellamy really like the word no.  He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t refused to come when Octavia had told him about this house party.  He hated house parties and he hated drunk undergrads.

But most importantly, he hated Clarke Griffin.

Clarke also liked the word no.  Especially when she could say it to him.

“This is fucking dumb,” Clarke grumbled as she squeezed herself farther into the bowels of the couch.  Their thighs were touching and Bellamy was trying very very hard to pretend he didn’t like the heat of her leg against his through his jeans and her tights.

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” he said.

“I don’t give a shit,” came her reply.

He scowled at her and she stuck her tongue out.

“Where’s your usual partner in crime?” he asked, eyes searching for the trademark dark and glossy ponytail of Clarke and Octavia’s second roommate.

“Mechanical engineering project gone wrong,” Clarke replied.

He grunted in response.

“Where’s yours?”

“On a date.”

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