i really hope that this time they don't screw up everything

0n-y0ur-left  asked:

The "Don't tell anyone you saw me crying" AU sounds super promising!

The best part of Steve’s day is, generally when he gets to go eat lunch in the abandoned teacher’s office on the third floor. It’s quiet up there, and it’s not so dusty now that one of the custodians noticed him hanging out there and comes around to clean it up every so often. So, all in all, not a bad place to quietly eat his lunch, do some homework, and maybe get a bit of drawing done, if he’s up to it.

Except today, apparently.

After the bell rings and fifth period starts, Steve makes his way up to the abandoned teacher’s lounge. He’s got a cheese sandwich, apple slices and a can of Diet Sprite that he’s excited to eat, and a drawing of one of his classmates — a guy who probably doesn’t even know Steve exists, let alone would want Steve drawing him, but that’s the one good thing about being invisible — that he’s excited to finish up. But when he gets to his abandoned teacher’s office, he hears someone…

Well, he hears someone crying.

Still, it’s his abandoned teacher’s office — he doesn’t have much else to take ownership of at this school, so he’ll take what he can get — so he enters anyway.

“What the hell?” Bucky Barnes says, furiously wiping off his face with the sleeve of his henley.

“Oh, uh,” Steve says, clutching the sketchbook that has an in-progress drawing of Bucky Freaking Barnes in it tight.

“Come to laugh at me?” Bucky asks with a rueful chuckle.

“What? No,” Steve says, maybe a little fiercer than he should.

“Then what?” Bucky asks.

“I eat lunch here every day,” Steve says, straightening up. He may only be five foot four and weigh the same as a wet dachshund, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t be intimidating!

He does wish that his beanie would quit sliding down his head and hiding his eyebrows. Having visible eyebrows would probably help the intimidating factor.

“You eat… here?” Bucky asks, looking around the dim room like he’s really seeing it for the first time. He grimaces.

Steve pushes his beanie back. “You’re here crying!” Steve argues.

“Yeah, but I’ve only been here a couple times. You’re here every day.”

Steve scoffs. “Are you trying to contest who of the two of us is less pathetic, because that’s probably a pretty easy fight.”

“What do you mean by that?” Bucky asks, voice getting louder.

“You have everything — friends, football, popularity. I just want to eat my cheese sandwich and listen to my iPod during lunchtime without having to confront crying jocks.”

Bucky stares at him for a moment, then his face screws up. “I’m s-s-sorry,” he says, starting to cry again.

“Oh jeez,” Steve says, shutting the door behind him and taking a few steps across the room, closer to the desk Bucky is sitting at. “Don’t… Cry, okay? I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“You didn’t… it’s not your fault,” Bucky says, burying his face in his hands.

Steve drops his backpack and kneels down, digging through it. After about forty seconds, he emerges victorious with a half-used pack of tissues. “Here,” he says, handing them out to Bucky.

Bucky looks up at him with wide, bloodshot eyes. “Really?” he asks. Steve nods. Bucky reaches out and takes the tissues from him. “Thanks,” he says, pulling one free from the package and loudly blowing his nose.

“No problem,” Steve says, trying not to be grossed out, though he can’t help but cringe a little when Bucky looks back up with a line of snot dripping out of his nose. “You oughta…” he says, gesturing to his nose.

“Shit,” Bucky says, wiping his nose again.

“Then again, if you’re sporting snot, I’m sure the rest of the school will follow,” Steve says, hoping he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels.

Bucky shakes his head. “You don’t get it,” he says. “I’m not… It’s not like that.”

“That’s not what it looks from the outside,” Steve says, quiet.

Bucky gives him a little half-smile. “I’m just gonna tell you this because I feel like this abandoned teacher’s lounge is a safe, trustworthy space, okay? And because I feel like you won’t blab to a bunch of people, but everyone fuckin’ hates me.”

“Really?” Steve asks, deadpan.

Bucky nods. “It’s… Well, they may not think they hate me, but they do.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s because you’re too beautiful. If you do, I may scream,” Steve says and is rewarded when Bucky laughs.

“You’re spitfire,” he says. “Anyhow, I’m gay, and they’d fuckin’ hate me if they knew.”

There’s a long pause.

“You’re gay?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods, mouth flattening. “It feels real weird to say it out loud,” he admits.

Steve’s mouth drops. “I’m the first person you’ve told?” he asks, surprised.

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t got anyone to tell. My old man’s a homophobic asswipe who’d kick my ass if he knew, and it’s not like I’m gonna tell the guys on the football team that I like guys. They’d take turns kickin’ my ass and leave me a bloody lump on the field.”

Swallowing hard, Steve takes a seat close to Bucky’s. “That’s… a lot,” he says.

“I know,” Bucky says. “Which is why I feel justified to stay in this abandoned teacher’s lounge and cry for a bit, if you don’t mind.”

There’s a long pause.

“Can I eat my sandwich while you do so?”

Bucky snorts. “Sure,” he says. “Let’s live it up. Cheese sandwiches and tears, quite the couple.”

Steve shrugs. “I’ve seen worse,” he says, pulling his sandwich from his backpack and splitting it in half. “Want some?” he asks, holding it out to Bucky.

“Sure,” Bucky says, grabbing the sandwich and taking a huge bite.

— —

“Hey,” Bucky says as the bell for sixth period rings.

“Yeah?” Steve says, packing his stuff up.

“Wanna do this again tomorrow? Maybe without the crying?”

Steve smiles. “Sure,” he says.

— —

In a week, Bucky is letting Steve draw him.

In a month, Steve is letting Bucky kiss him.

In a year, they walk around their college campus hand-in-hand.

Imagine: making Tom relax on his birthday

To say Tom was a bit on edge would have been an understatement. With the recent GQ article talking about his previous girlfriend, and more rumors about how long the two of you would last or when you’d break up, he desperately needed a ‘lazy day’. So, you took it into your own hands, and made sure Thomas had nothing planned on his birthday until the night, when he could celebrate with family and friends.

The two of you had been long time friends, and after Thomas recovered from Taylor, you surprised each other by realizing you had buried shared emotions. You avoided the media as a couple, but the important people in your lives knew, and thanks to them, Tom Hiddleston got to have a relaxing birthday.

Said actor was currently in bed, boxers only, well past his normal waking time. His eyes eased open to the soft golden glow coming through the windows, and when he saw your heavenly smile at his side, he knew being 36 was going to be enjoyable.

“Good morning, love… What time is it?” He asked groggily, as he shifted to wrap his arms around your loosely clothed torso. You had taken to wearing Marvel pajamas as a joke with him, and currently, you just had undergarments and his Thor shirt, which was certainly oversized for you.

“9:26am.” You responded, after glancing at the clock. You heard Tom take in a sharp breath as his eyes widened, but you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close, interrupting his worried thoughts. “Thomas, today is your birthday. You have earned a break, so don’t worry… That’s my job.” You joked lightly, running your fingers through his soft hair, letting your nails massage his scalp. He hummed contentedly at the feeling, letting his eyes close.

“Wh-What about-” he began, but soon felt your soft lips against his, prompting him to react in kind. His hands drifted to your waist and hair, but before he could lose himself in your embrace, you pulled back and smiled sweetly.

“Tom, it’s fine. Everything will be okay.” You reassured, before shifting so you straddled his waist and looked down at him, planting your hands to the sides of his head. “You deserve the world, but today, rest should do the trick. I’ll make some tea, pop in a movie or find a nice record, and we can while the day away doing whatever you want… except working.” You explained, your voice low and silky. Tom stared up at you with wonder in his eyes, as he let out a string of soft chuckles and reached his hands up to brush back your curtain of hair.

“What did I do to deserve you?” He asked, his voice wistful and loving. You chuckled lightly and leaned down, pressing your soft mouth to his in slow kisses. After a few seconds, you parted, but remained a breath away.

“You didn’t have to do anything… Now, any ideas for the day, birthday boy?” You asked with a growing grin. Thomas knew you were determined to give him a relaxing day, so he happily accepted that gift. However, he did have some plans of his own for you.

“Oh, darling… this is going to be the busiest day off we’ve ever had.”

shady-swan-jones  asked:

amanda, if this isn't your time i don't know what is. please give us some sheriff/deputy smut. in your hot, detailed writing

this is me, ignoring my responsibilities, in favor of hot desk sex and bants

speculation and spoilers abound, obvs.

“Not much of a honeymoon,” Emma said between kisses, roughly shoving his leather jacket down his arms.

“And what, pray tell, is a honeymoon?” Killian asked, his hand busily undoing the button of her jeans.

She walked him back until his thighs hit the desk, then pushed him to sit on top of whatever files she’d left scattered on its surface; digitizing the town’s criminal records was going slowly, hampered not only by the usual revolving door of monsters and dwarven antics, but also by the fact that having Killian in the station with her put quite the damper on any desire to do anything but fuck him senseless..

Her husband was extremely distracting.

“A honeymoon,” she said, pausing long enough to strip her shirt off and toss it somewhere towards his desk, “is a vacation for newlyweds. A vacation primarily geared towards having lots and lots of sex.”

Killian hummed, and watched with interest as she unclasped her bra and draped it over one of the lamps. He probably already knew what it was, but one night and several shots of rum had led to him confessing that he liked the way she explained things. “Ah, so a bridal tour without all the pesky need to visit those unable to attend the wedding.”

“Screw them, they can send something off the registry. If we had one. I bet mom made us one.”

Keep reading

When galaxies collide

AN: I wrote this some time ago and felt like sharing it because it’s not too bad. While reading, please keep in mind that English isn’t my first language, so  excuse any possible mistakes.


The way he looks at me is irritating.

His eyes never seem to leave me. They’re following me through the room, a solid blue wall. Blue as crayons. They’re extraordinarily ordinary.

I try not to let him notice how he unnerves me. I try to ignore him and his stupidly blue eyes. His tawny skin and his unruly curls. Everything about him is golden and so bright that it looks like he belongs in space. Somewhere far away. Definitely not here.


This boy looks like he belongs to another planet. His skin is an indescribable mixture of reds and browns and it shimmers like pixie dust. His hair is dark and way longer than mine and it falls over his shoulders, framing his face, making it look at least a bit softer. Because his cheekbones are sharp and his eyes are hard and he scowls all the time.

He should make me feel uncomfortable. I should be scared by him.

But I’m not.

He seems to be drawing me in. I can’t stop watching him, how he moves around. He talks to no one and no one talks to him. Does he feel alone? It seems like there are galaxies between me and him.


I finally know where he belongs. He’s the sun that is missing in the galaxy I call my life. He completes my very own sun-system. He still hasn’t stopped looking at me.

And when I hear people slowly leaving the room, I decide that I should be brave once in my life.

I turn and look at him. Right into his ridiculously blue eyes.

My breath catches and for a moment, he is all that I can see. He’s the centre of my everything. He’s every nice thing I can think of.

But then he looks away and the moment is broken.


His grey eyes seem to have unsettled something deep inside of me. Something I was afraid do wake, something I never wanted to think about. He’s still holding my gaze and it hurts, looking at his face hurts. It makes me think of how much I want to talk to him, screw his intimidating looks.

So I break the eye-contact.

Then I stand up.

And start to make my way towards him.


Within seconds he’s in front of me, making my stomach turn. I can’t name the look on his face. Is he angry because I stared at him? Shouldn’t I be the one who’s angry?

But then he interrupts my thoughts by saying: “You don’t talk to anyone.”

It surprises me. It’s not even a question, it’s a simple statement. What am I supposed to answer to this? I don’t want to scare him away, he’s even more beautiful up close.

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

Oh great.


He spits out a rude answer, but I can’t really blame him, since my question was probably the least eloquent thing I could have said.

“Well,” I stutter, trying to regain my composure. “I just wanted to ask if I could sit with you.”

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes and I hope that he’ll say yes.


This boy is going to be the death of me. Now that he’s standing right in front of me, I can see that his face is sprinkled with tiny freckles. There’s an edge of one of his teeth missing, which makes him look way younger. He’s making me feel sick. But the good kind.

He asked if he could sit with me and if I weren’t so absolutely incompatible with human beings, I would have said yes by now. But I still haven’t answered his question and he’s still looking up at me with his blue eyes, chewing on his plump bottom lip.

Before I can think to much about this, I feel my mouth opening.


“If you insist,” he mumbles and for a moment, I’m worried that he’s irritated by me and is just surrendering because he wants me to stop talking. But then he shoots me a half-smile and it feels like gravity has lost its hold on me.

I smile back at him, already planning to tell Penny all of this as soon as I enter our flat. Although he seemed so far away at first, almost like he lived on another planet, I can’t feel the galaxies dividing us any more. Now we’re circling around each other. As if he’s as focused on me as I am on him.

But then he frowns.


He beams at me and I can’t help but try to memorize all of his expression, in case I’m not seeing it again. Or at least, not directed at me.

We’re both silent for a moment, standing in the middle of the empty room and staring at each other. Then I remember that I don’t even know his name.

His face falls when I stop smiling and I immediately want to comfort him, tell him that I didn’t change my mind, that I’m just thinking, but I’m not exactly known to be empathic in public.

“What’s your name?”, I ask, cringing internally at how emotionless my voice sounds.

He relaxes, ruffling his curls as his smile returns.

“Simon. Simon Snow.”

Oh well, at least we both have ridiculous names.


He grins when he hears my name, and I immediately feel self-conscious. My name is one of the things I will never not be embarrassed about.

I have already opened my mouth to say something when he cuts me off.

“Don’t worry, I’m not making fun of you. Would be a bit hypocritical if you consider that my name is Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. You can call me Baz though.”

I snort, feeling relieved. His name is as extraordinary as he is and even though there’s no way I’m going to remember all of it, I still like it. It sort of fits him.


My stomach does a somersault when Simon says, “We match, I guess.”.

We do not match, we absolutely don’t. But that doesn’t stop me from trying.

Knot because I love you, just because I care

A drabble for @nickillian cos she loves fake!married tropes


*unbetad,sorry for the awful title 😂

“You know you have to actually lift the glass to your lips to drink the vodka.”

Emma lifted her gaze from the glass of icy spirit and smiled.

“Funnily enough I had heard that before, Jones.”

“And here I was thinking that I had stumbled upon something revelatory.”

He gestured to the seat beside her and she nodded, waiting until he ordered a drink.

It was Tuesday and The Rabbit Hole sports bar was just about as empty as she had ever seen it. She was glad of it - the last thing she needed now was to deal with a bunch of drunks even if she really wanted to get drunk herself.

His order came, alongside another vodka for her, and he paid with a crisp ten pound note before settling into the stool beside her.

“So, Swan, what brings you to Wimbledon’s only American sports bar tonight?”

He grinned, his smile bright despite how tired he looked.

“I could ask you the same,” she replied, nodding at what remained of his business attire - tie askew and shirt sleeves pushed up.

“I asked first,” he quipped, “But since you must know today I got a new job and I thought it appropriate to celebrate.”

“The one at Graham’s company?”

He nodded. “Yep, you are looking at the new deputy marketing manager for Mills Media.”

Emma smiled. She knew how much Killian had wanted a promotion and it just wasn’t happening in his current position. At least someone had good news that day.

“That’s great,” she sighed softly, staring longingly into her vodka, before quickly adding, “My visa renewal was declined today.”


Keep reading

Saphael Fanfic Rec 2.0

A Saphael Fest.

More writing goodies from amazing writers.

As always, if you know any of the authors and tag them, that would be very much appreciated

A Daisy instead of a glass shoe by @soft-saphael

Tumblr prompt: runaway prince!simon and commoner!rapahel

Two weeks from his coronation and three from his wedding to Princess Isabelle of Idris, the Prince of New York found himself on a park bench in Brooklyn. His face buried in the palms of his hand as his phone continued to ring.
Deep breaths. Deep breathes. Deep- the phone is laying in pieces on the concrete walkway in shattered fragments.

“You’re a little far from the palace” A slightly accented voice said, from out of the corner of his eyes Simon saw black leather.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh I’m sorry your highness, I apologize for not bowing” The boy snorted.

“Please, just leave me alone” Simon huffed tiredly.

A First Date (Kind of. Almost.) by SnogboxesAndChips

Simon is always looking for excuses to be near Raphael. When he finally finds a suitable excuse, he walks in on Raphael doing something that Simon would have never thought Raphael would do. He was cooking.

And every road you take (will always lead you home) by @woodenhallslikecaskets

For Raphael’s 55th birthday Magnus gifts him a portal that leads to 1956.

Brooklyn, NY 1956: he meets a beautiful boy by the name of Simon Lewis. They’ve never met before but Raphael feels like he could love him. They could fall in love.

Break of the light by @makehomesofhumans

Simon’s eyes sparked to life as he was being dangled over the edge of a building. He sighed, because that was just his luck.

But who would love a monster, anyway? By @spendeonswithyou

As he learns later, loving Simon hurts. It’s making his dead heart want to beat again, destroying the remaining bits and pieces of his soul.

Or the Soulmate AU in which you can feel your soulmate’s pain.

Customer Satisfaction by kuro1neko2kun

‘You’re the customer and you get back at me for all the times I’ve spelt your name wrong by mispronouncing my name in increasingly horrible ways’ AU

Darling, you’re all I need by @anjawritingsx

Simon and Raphael are happy together, that is until Simon forgets their 8th year anniversary.
Raphael is left heartbroken and Magnus and Alec try to pick up the pieces.

Does that mean you’ve a really bad crush on me too? By milleniumlint

Simon wants Raphael to understand he has feelings for him but he’s not so obvious like he thinks he is.

Dreaming of You (endlessly) by Nubian_Reese

Corazón—His heart. He loves Simon so much it hurts. His beauty, his optimism, it’s a sea of good and Raphael does nothing but dive right in. And he is not ashamed, because Simon is a gift. God’s gift, and sometimes Raphael can’t believe what they have together is real, but when Simon leans down and kisses him, hands running through each other’s hair skimming down backs, and gripping hips, Raphael lives in every sense and knows that this is real.

Flirting 101 by TrickyVicky3

Raphael sighs, shaking his head more to himself than anything else as he reaches down for Simon and pulls the other boy up again. “That will be all for today” he pulls the bottom of his tank top up, using the material to wipe away sweat, unaware of Simon’s gaze tracking over his abdomen. “You did good but not good enough, even if you pinning me down was kind of hot”

Keep reading

when he looks away

huge, huge thank you to by beta best friend for reading this, encouraging me to write more and actually post some of it; and of course @roxanncweasley and @jiilys, my writing idols, for unconciously inspiring me with their own fantastic work;

He’s all you notice at this point.

In class, when your not long ago ‘best friend’ shots a parky comment at him. He wants to talk back, you can see it. He wants to, he needs to defend himself, his friends, those like you. He can’t stand him, it’s clear as day. That vein on his neck is pulsing like crazy. His hands are fists now. He picks his head up and you gasp at the rage in his stare. You sees his eyes shot fast in your direction and in a second they’re soft again and it’s like he suddenly acknowledges he’s in a classroom with twenty other students, all watching him, all expecting the fight. He slowly unscrews his hands and flats them on the desk; they’re trembling. You sigh. His head is lowered again, Remus wispering something rapidly in his ear. He nods in approval, the corners of his mouth twitch. Mr Binns goes on. A few minutes later you catch his eye and, he smiles.

In the library, on a table in the opposite corner of the room, where they’re sitting, trying to dull their laughs as Madam Pince walks by, all staring at a piece of pegament. You can’t really tell from here but it seem like whatever’s on it is moving. Remus is extending a hand and shaking his with a tempered smile that reaches his eyes. Pettigrew is clapping him on the back, grin splattered all over his features. Black grabs his face and mockingly tries to kiss him. He laughs and pushes him away, a sly smile on his lips and she can almost hear him say ‘not here pads, there are people watching! I know I’m so charmingly handsome, but please contain your urges!’. His smile is bigger than his face as he shrugs and explains something to the rest, hands gesticulating as he speaks. There’s so much pride in his eyes he looks like he might just explode. He gases at you and stops talking what looks like midsentence. The others turn around to look at you; Remus waves, Black winks playfully and Pettigrew just shakes his head. His smile doesn’t leave his face as he takes one of Remus’s chocolate bars and throws it at you. You catch it the last second, look at him and smile back. As he returns his attention to the pergament you can swear you see reddness creeping its way towards his face.

On the pitch on a sunny Friday afternoon right after classes while he’s loosening his tie as the eight of you sit on the freshly cut grass, Marlene in Black’s, Sirius’s, he demands, lap. Dorcas pulls out two bottles of vodka her sister mailed her and takes a bold sip from one, trowing the other at Peter. Screw dinner, you think. Screw the rules. Soon everyone is laying in a big mess of tangled legs and arms and hair, laughing at everything and nothing at all, forgetting for a moment. The late april wind blows in his hair, making it even messier than it is, making it look like he’d just shagged, making you want to shag him but really you’re just drunk, you tell yourself. His glasses are crooked and dirty but his eyes are sparkling and his smile is lopsided and he looks like he’s drunk on pure liquid joy, no diluent. You look at his long delicate fingers, knuckles bloody from Tuesday when the Blacks’ family owl delivered Sirius a letter and his fist almost made a hole in the commor room wall. You look at his sneakers, covered in mud as if he’s been running in the Forbidden Forest for two nights straight. You look at his muscles under the rolled sleeves of his shirt, his tan skin, the purple and blue veins underneath. You look at his eyes. They’re looking too. Shit, you think, but his eyes don’t tear from yours and you can’t make yourself look away. He’s all you can see and you both don’t notice that Marlene and Sirius are long gone, probably in the now empty boy dorm doing Merlin knows what or that Mary and Dorcas are kissing and giggling unnoticed a few meters away or that Remus and Peter are now walking around the pitch trying to clear their heads and be at least a little bit responsible. No, all you notice is each other and the stars in his eyes and the flowers in you hair and your love. And sure, it is a little reckless and a little dangerous, and there really isn’t anything, but it’s okay cause you won’t remember it tomorrow morning, right? All of a sudden something bubles inside of you and your smile turns into laughter because how could i be so oblivious and there’s clearly something, there’s everything and you realise why your stomach is always in knots when he’s around and why your troat tightens when he gives you one of his shit eating grins and of course. Of course I’m in love! He’s starts laughing next to you on the hard ground too and your eyes fill themselves with tears as the sunset sky opens and swallows you both.

In the common room, in the little hours, when even the wind is silent, the fireplace is long cold and you’re sitting alone in the armchair next to the window, trembling, thinking how fucked up the world truly is. You hear his tiptoes on the old stone stairs of his dormitory carrying the history of so many other lives before yours. He yawns and stretches his lean arms over his head, but you don’t turn around. You hope he won’t notice you there, that he’ll simply get his forgotten charms essay from the table near the fireplace and go back to bed. ‘Lily!’ you hear him inhale shortly and then… he’s gone. You want him to be but you can’t help feel a little dissapointed after all. You’ve told yourself so many times not to think abot him that way, to accept it’s pointless, that he doesn’t love you anymore, and even if he did what’s the point, it would never work out, not now. But it’s still hard and you know it will always be. You feel a blanket around your shoulders and you abruptly turn around to face him. He’s looking down at you with worry in his eyes and a line between furrowed brows. You open your mouth to say something, anything. ‘Don’t.’ He’s wispering. ‘You don’t have to explain. I know.’ He sighs and sits on the armrest, looking out of the window. You turn back towards it and lean your head on his arm. ‘When did everything become so complicated.’ It’s not a question. More of a statement, an unheard plead for things to go back the way they were, to normal. He signs again, harder this time, louder. He seeks your green, green eyes, stares deep into them, almost like he’s at loss of words. Almost like he’s lost himself in them.

You’re breathless.

Instinct Pt.2

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Summary: Bucky has finally found the omega he wants for his own, but catching his prey may be harder than he first realized.

Word count: 1.6K

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, mentions of army, mentions of death, implied smut?(eventually?)

A/N: Okay, I am way happier with this part and I think I’ll enjoy writing this series now that I’ve gotten into it. Also, I apologize if my portrayal of Natasha was shitty.

My lovey editor: @swipfandomswap


Originally posted by kellsmello

Riley had died a few years ago, back when you were still in the army. He’d gone out on a mission with Sam and didn’t come back. Not alive, at least. You  were their  lookout, the one who flew just behind and below them, watching for enemies.

Sam blamed himself, which was stupid. It wasn’t like there was anything he could’ve done. If it was anyone’s fault, it was yours. You had been injured a few days previously and were still healing. You decided to stay back, rest another day. You figured that they wouldn’t need one, so they didn’t bring a backup lookout.

The moment he died, you knew. You didn’t need anyone to break the news for you. You already knew. You felt it in your very being, your blood, your bones, your skin. It felt like your heart had been ripped from your body and crushed in front of you. It compared well to being hit by a car. Every part of you felt burnt or broken and you suddenly couldn’t breathe. You would never wish it on anyone.

What bothers you the most was that it wasn’t even a difficult mission. A simple fly-by, a scouting mission. There was no reason for anything to go wrong. But it did go wrong and it was your fault. If you had just gone with them, Riley would still be alive. You would’ve seen the sniper below. He would still be alive and you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of being part of the reason your alpha died.


It had been three months since you met Bucky and you had a lot of mixed feelings about him. One minute, he was kind and generous and fairly attractive and the next he was up in your grill, flirting and making you feel grotesque about being in his presence.

You knew that Sam was on the verge of threatening Bucky within an inch of his life because he was bothering you so much. It concerned you, you didn’t want Sam to get himself in trouble for your sake. You had put up with selfish alphas before.

They just didn’t seem to grasp that you had been bonded. They didn’t understand the pain of losing a mate, because it was so uncommon, practically unheard of. Nobody knew how to react when they heard about a widow omega. You didn’t know how they were supposed to react.

Your train of thought was cut short by Natasha’s voice coming from the outside of your lab.

“Hey, Y/N. You in there?” She called, stepping into the lab.

You stepped around the corner, dressed in a tight red dress that could’ve been a little longer with a little more fabric around chest. Nat noticed this, instinctually eyeing you up and down. She was an alpha, but she was very, very good at controlling herself.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked, looking down at your feet, which were sunk in a pair of hellish heels.

“Of course. You look good, besides, if an ass gets any ideas you’ve got the whole team right there.” She shrugged your concern off.

You were headed up to another one of Tony’s extravagant parties. He seemed to throw them at least once a month, often more along the lines of once every two weeks. This was your first time going to one. You weren’t a huge fan of large social gatherings like parties, so you tended to avoid them. People liked to gawk and gossip. You didn’t.

The only reason you were going this time was because the team was forcing you to. The public apparently wanted to know who was taking care of the Avengers and so you had to show your face off a little.

Needless to say, you were not excited. In fact, you were pretty sure you would rather throw up than go appeal to a bunch of rich, narcissists. However, you didn’t mind dressing up. You didn’t think you had ever worn a dress worth a thousand plus dollars before, but it made you feel like gold.

“Alright. Let’s go.” You told Natasha, walking past her out of the lab.


The minute you walked into the party all eyes were on you. You could only really pay attention to one pair.

James Buchanan Barnes was standing directly across the room from you by the bar, all dressed up in a suit, sipping his drink and staring you down with a predatory look that made a chill run down your spine.

You had to look away. Partially because Wanda had grabbed a hold of you and was dragging you over to meet Thor but also because the intensity of his stare was not good for you in any way.


You quickly figured out that Thor, although he was a good guy, was not up to date with this dimension’s social structure. You couldn’t blame him. Humans were pains to handle and you knew it.

The blonde-haired man was both a god and alpha, so say he was intimidating was an understatement. You were glad he was already bonded. You were terrified of the idea of telling him no.

You were asking Thor about Asgard when you suddenly felt your skin prickle. You looked away from the god in front of you to look over your shoulder. Sure enough, there was Bucky, devouring you with his eyes.

You hated the way he made you feel. Every particle of your body screamed yes to, but your heart cried no. As an omega, you wanted him, you really did. He was a perfect alpha; strong, confident, extremely well-built and attractive, not to mention his dominance. But Riley was a perfect alpha as well, and your mind always brought him back into equation. The perfect, self-destruction cycle.

You decided you had to something about it.

“Uhm, I’m terribly sorry, but could you excuse me for a moment? There’s an urgent matter I need to attend to.” You exited the conversation, turning around and making a beeline towards Bucky.


Bucky couldn’t help himself.

You were the epitome of everything he had ever looked for in an omega and he wanted you. He wanted you so badly that if getting you was the last thing he ever did it would be worth it. He wasn’t afraid of what it was going to take.

He understood that courting you was a manner to be treated as a surgery, delicate and precise. He understood that you didn’t want him. He understood that you were still hurting.

He wanted to make you stop hurting. It was a natural instinct for an alpha to want to protect omegas and to make them happy. He didn’t like that you didn’t want him. He didn’t like that you didn’t want him because you were in pain. 

Bucky knew he could have you. He  could keep you safe, keep you happy. If you just let him-

“You’re staring again.” Natasha had appeared next to him.

“What?” The solider asked, his mind snapping back into reality.

“You’re staring at her again, its no wonder Bruce wont let you near her when he’s around anymore. You look like a stalker.”

Bucky looked at the woman with raised brows “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it”

“I never said I don't understand where you’re coming from.” She shook her head “She’s a nice-looking omega, but you know that you-”

“Yes, Natasha, I know all about how I’m not allowed to make a move until she’s ready and that I should follow her around but-” Natasha cut off his snarling rant.

“Hey!” Natasha snapped back “Don’t get all pissed off. I was going to tell you not to get your hopes up, but I think that’s she settling in. I think you should try warming up to her some more.”

Bucky hesitated, letting her words soak in. He had been trying to warm up to you, for the last few months he had practically groveling at your feet. Bucky didn’t often grovel, so it was causing him a bit of strain. He felt almost pathetic, sucking up to an omega to gain their attention, but he knew it would be worth it in the end.

“But, I’ve been trying to warm up to her since she got here.”

“That’s your problem right there, Buck” Natasha shook her head “You’re trying to hard. You get yourself all worked up about her that when it actually comes time to impress her, your hormones are so all over the place that it looks like you’re either trying to get in her pants or you’re not interested.”

Bucky sighed and went quiet, taking another sip from drink. He turned his head to look back over where you were standing, talking with Thor. He liked Thor, he was an okay guy, but in this instance, it made Bucky’s blood boil that you were smiling at something the god was saying.

Bucky suddenly felt something grab his shoulder and he whipped around, growling.

Natasha immediately let go and took a step back. “Hey, whoa, calm down man. You need to calm down, you smell like you’re going to rip someone apart.” she warned.

Bucky took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. “Sorry, I got distracted.”

Nat smiled and shook her head “Well, hold that thought.” She snickered before turning and walking away.

“Wait, Nat. What do you mean? Where are you going? Nat. Nat? Natasha?” Bucky called after the red-haired woman.

He frowned and turned back to watch you. Except you weren’t there, neither was Thor and he suddenly felt rage swell in his throat. Had you taken off to screw around? There was no way, Thor was mated. Then where were you?

Suddenly, a sweet voice filled his ears. “We need to talk.


@sebseyesandbuckysthighs @buckyhawk@bovaria @you-and-bucky @mustangandthereaper@after-avenging-hours @writing-soldiers @mylittlefandomfanfictions @ursulaismymiddlename

maychorian  asked:

How about a surge of emotion causing a hug with Pidge and Hunk?

She’d finally done it.  It was done.  The next time they found a mining colony or a slave ship or a prison or any other of the godawful places her father might be, the scanner in her hand would be able to tell her, from the outside, whether he was there or not.  It would give a number of life forms, then break it down by known species, using the information she’d downloaded from the Castle’s mainframe.  Every living thing would show up, numbered and categorized, and if there was a human on the list, she could be almost certain it would be her family.  They would know the number of guards.  They would know the number of prisoners.  They would know everything.  And she would find her dad.

Hunk was excited too, sitting next to her in the away pod they’d borrowed to run this test, but she knew he couldn’t really be feeling what she was.  Not really.

She took a deep breath and turned the scanner toward the castle, initiating its first scan.

Nothing happened.  The scanner whirred, and beeped, and made a thunking noise, and left her with a blank screen.

No.  No.  She’d worked on this for months.  She’d hunched over her laptop, coding until her back was sore.  She’d cannibalized half the technology she owned, and some of the technology around her that she didn’t.  She’d custom-made parts when she had to.  It couldn’t be a failure.  It couldn’t.  She felt like she’d been punched repeatedly in the gut.  A squeak came out of her mouth, but she wasn’t sure a squeak of what.

“Whoa, there, Pidge,” Hunk said, “It’s uh - let me just -”

He took the scanner out of her hand and she didn’t stop him.  Why should she?  It was worthless.  She was worthless and her dad and Matt were still out there and she was never going to be able to find them.

“Hmm,” Hunk said, opening the back of the scanner with a tiny screwdriver he’d pulled out of his belt pouch.  'Hmm’ nothing.  It hadn’t worked.  Pidge tried to keep breathing even against the sudden flood of despair that made it seem easier, for the moment, not to.

“Ah, no, see, there’s the problem,” Hunk said, and she turned toward him, too distraught to really make sense of that.  Why did he sound so chipper?

“You’ve got these wires crossed,” he said, gesturing to something in her peripheral vision. “Easy to do when you’re working without a blueprint.  I told you an electrical diagram would help, instead of just doing it all out of your head.  Don’t you remember what Professor Montgomery said the first day of school?  Engineering is half math and half -”

“Wait - Are you saying you can fix it?”  Pidge asked, turning toward him as her brain finally caught up to what he was rambling about.

Hunk looked up from the scanner, beaming at her.  "Oh, yeah.  I mean, I think so.  I’m like 90% sure.  The signals just aren’t making it.  Your programming’s probably fine.“

After another moment, he slipped the cover back over the scanner’s inner workings and started screwing it shut.  Pidge shouldn’t hope it would work.  Not when it meant she might have to feel disappointed all over again.  But she couldn’t help herself.  Hunk was - well, he wasn’t confident, but he was never confident and maybe-”

“There,” Hunk said, handing the device back.  "It should work now.  I think.“

She bit her lip, staring at it for a moment.  No.  She couldn’t do it.  She shoved it back at him.  "You do it.  I can’t -” she cut herself off, not sure how to explain.

“Oh, yeah, I get that,” Hunk said, “You did a lot of work on it.”  It wasn’t the point, but it didn’t matter.  He’d taken the scanner back and was pointing it at the castle.  This time, it whirred, and beeped, and dinged.

There was silence in the pod for a minute, and then she decided she was ready to know.  Not knowing if it worked was even worse than being afraid it didn’t.  "What’s it say?“ she asked.

"5 life forms,” he read off, “2 Alteans, 2 humans, and 1 question mark.  That’s probably Keith.  We should probably work on that.”

She should feel happy.  Her brain told her she should be happy.  But there was still a ringing emptiness in her chest where the shock had been when she failed.  "It worked?“ she asked.  Before Hunk could answer, it sunk in, like just saying the words made them true.  "It worked!”

Her heart filled up like it might burst, and she flung herself sideways at Hunk, hugging him as tightly as she could in such tight quarters.

“Heck yeah, it worked!” he answered, hugging her back.  "You did it, Pidge!  Now we’ll be able to find your family in no time.“

She didn’t realize she was crying until Hunk started rubbing her back.  "Whoa, wait, whoa.  This is good, Pidge!  It’s a good thing!”

She buried her face farther into his shoulder.  "I know.“

"Oh, good.  You just stay right there then.  As long as it’s happy crying.  I can get behind happy crying.”

She laughed, and almost wanted to slug him in the arm, like she would if it were Lance, but not as much as she wanted to stay here, twisted around awkwardly, for a little bit longer and embrace the knowledge that she’d done it - that they’d done it.  She was going to find her family.

those big life moments

pairing: riley matthews & lucas friar 
word count: 1,864
prompt: “day four: argument - even the best of couples have their bad days, but not all arguments are all that serious” 
written for: rucas fanfic week 2017 
summary: big, life changing moments are supposed to be remembered forever. but riley has a feeling this one might be memorable for a whole different reason. 
notes: this fic originally was a really fluffy piece, that slowly because some more emo and a lil angsty, but it still ends on a positive note, i swear. it examines how something pretty minor can evoke a lot of emotions from people. i’m not 100% pleased with the results, but what can you do. also, this fic takes place in the universe of gotor (written by maggie @friarlucas) and my own fic, sign of the times, but is in the future. enjoy! 

“Lucas, I don’t really see what the big deal is?”

Riley watched as Lucas took a deep breath, avoiding eye contact with her completely. She knew that there was going to be a conversation between them when he got home today, but she didn’t know that it was going to go down the way that it was so far.

There were multiple beats of silence between them, the only noise in the room being the hum of the refrigerator. Lucas was still refusing to meet her gaze and the longer there was a silence between them, the more and more nervous Riley became that she had thoroughly screwed up.

Keep reading

These Hands

So before Toei makes or breaks this, here'smy take on Vegeta’s worry over baby Bra.


Not even the aches of a vigorous workout could satiate his worry.

Vegeta huffed as he dropped to his knees, sweat creating a pool between his fingers firmly planted on the ground. He had overworked himself again, trying to alleviate his unease the best way he knew how.

It still wasn’t enough.

He couldn’t turn off the thoughts that raced through his brain. Once upon a time, he was able to block out his conscience, silencing the voices by way of purge and inducing fear, getting lost in the madness that was Frieza’s army.

But he didn’t have that luxury now. And they screamed at him relentlessly, forcing him to cover his ear with his palms, hoping to regain his sanity.

‘What if you fail for good this time? What if she hates you because of your past? When the time comes, can she separate Vegeta the father from Vegeta the sinner?’

They paralyzed him; creating a heavy weight that threatened to burst the vessels of his stomach open. He was already a father, and even though he was anything but parental in the beginning of Trunks life, his son was happy and healthy and strong.

But that was Trunks. A boy Vegeta had the luxury of meeting before the babe even drew his first breath. He was able to see his strengths and weaknesses, get an idea of his personality, a perfect combination of wit and pride.

But she was different, she was new. She was the magnifying glass on the person he had grown to be all these years later. She wasn’t going to arrive in the midst of battle; her father wasn’t lost in his own selfish vices of becoming the strongest in the universe. He hoped she wouldn’t know the taste of battle, he prayed to Dende that her skin never became scarred with battle wounds outside of childhood scrapes. He wanted something different for her. If Trunks was his physical form of everything he pride himself in as a Saiyan, she was everything he wanted to become in a man.

In a father.

It scared him shitless.

He rose to his feet, wobbling from exhaustion, and turned off the simulated gravity. He felt relief wash over him as the chamber returned to normal gravity levels, his muscles singing in victory as they relaxed.

His stomach yelled at him vigorously, betraying the plea of isolation from his anxieties. A quick lunch couldn’t hurt, followed by a shower. And then back to the gravity room to work out his pent up aggressions.

He hadn’t seen Bulma really, other than to check on her swelling belly and deal with her hunger cravings. He didn’t know what to say to her. The day she announced that she was pregnant, he simply nodded and went to train. He may have become a good man, something he still struggled with, but he was still Vegeta. And Vegeta did not feel comfortable expressing his inner most thoughts.

And those thoughts were currently a tornado of happiness and fear, patronizing him completely until he was nothing more than a flame haired mess of emotions.

He made his way to the compound, the sun beating against his sweat slickened back, and let his mouth water to the promise of left over steak that had been cooked the night prior.

And he just about blew the whole damn place up when he saw the meat being devoured by the third class.

“Vegeta!” Goku announced, juices from the steak pooling around the indents of his mouth, “Bulma said you were trainin’ pretty intensely, I didn’t think I’d see you this early.”

Vegeta scoffed and crossed his arms. Bulma sat across from Goku, smiling at him with that hypnotizing grin of hers, the same one that led him to being a father twice now, and he relaxed the tense lines of his jaw. She was glowing, bathing in the pregnancy glow that radiated around her as she massaged her massive stomach. Had she been so ethereal when she was pregnant with Trunks? The Vegeta of yesteryear was too busy trying to ascend to pay attention, but this Vegeta noticed and he mentally declared her to be the most beautiful he had ever seen her.

“Why are you here, Kakarot? ” Vegeta tore his eyes away from the sun that called itself his wife and glared at the messy haired Saiyan. “And why are you eating my food?”

“I came here to see if you wanted to train with me and Whis, ” Goku replied, his mouth barely functioning around the food that stuffed his mouth. Vegeta grimaced. In all of the years of knowing him, he hadn’t changed his immature habits. Vegeta wasn’t sure he even minded as much, at least he could say that he was more mature in that aspect.

Vegeta looked over at Bulma, running his eyes down her plump frame. He shook his head immediately, gaining a raised eyebrow from his wife. “Now isn’t a good time for that, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Well I was goin’ to ask you, but that was before I noticed Bulma’s condition. I can’t believe you’re havin’ another baby,” Goku leaned back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head, and whistled. “You sure have come a long way, Vegeta. Willingly havin’ another baby like that.”

“I don’t need you tell me that.”

“It’s interestin’,” Goku continued, his eyes innocently locking with Vegeta’s, “I was dead for so long before I found out about Goten, but we just clicked right away. Now you get to have a whole baby while you’re livin’. And you’re the strongest you’ve ever been while everythin’s peaceful. This new generation of kids are spoiled,” Goku laughed, wiping the corners of his mouth, “Gohan barely made it four before he ran into problems.”

“She won’t know any problems,” he retorted sharply, “not with me as her father and her brother as her protector.”

Bulma smiled radiantly, listening to her husband declare an unofficial promise to their daughter. Even she would be left in awe at the man Vegeta had grown to be. His dedication and strength had always enticed her, and it seemed like now he was using it for the greater good. Watching how he treated Trunks, both of them, had eased any doubts in her mind that he struggled as a father. He was good and she was grateful.

And she knew her little girl would love her father with the same admiration of her purple haired son.

“Well, thanks for lunch Bulma,” Goku stood, stretching and rubbing his stomach with delight, “it was pretty tasty. And Vegeta, maybe you and me can get some sparrin’ in after the baby comes? Maybe you and me can train her and Pan to be some strong Saiyan ladies.”

Vegeta smirked. Now there was a plan. “Better for you and I to do it. If it was up to Pan’s father, she’ll be in her twenties before she even ascends.”

“He he, ” Goku rubbed the back of his head and smiled, “ Gohan will get it together. I got faith in the guy. Speaking of which… ” Goku’s eyes narrowed in concentration, and then he pressed to fingers to his forehead before he vanished. Bulma shook her head.

“That guy. He still doesn’t know how to properly exit a room.” She ran her eyes over her husband, his delicious muscles bulging in his spandex suit. His face settled on the tiles of the kitchen floor, and Bulma stood to walk to him. He didn’t need to say anything for her to understand what was going on. He was nervous and anxious and wouldn’t tell her, couldn’t tell her. She let him train away his insecurities, hoping that he would be more at ease by the time the Princess of Capsule Corps arrived.

“I’m surprised you didn’t want to go train with Goku and Whis,” she said warmly, placing a hand on his shoulder, “that’s not the Vegeta I know.”

The Vegeta she knows. He grit his teeth as he marinated on that statement. Of his family member so far, his son and soon to be daughter had not witnessed the man that he kept in the back of his mental closet. But she had. She watched as he ordered the killing of her boyfriend, experienced terror with him, and because of him, on Namek. She had slept with him, for reasons he still didn’t understand, and put up with his dismissal of she and their child, welcoming him back when he came home with his phantom tail between his legs.

Perhaps his daughter wasn’t the only one he needed to prove anything to.

“Hey,” she squeezed his shoulder, voice honeyed, “whatever it is you’re thinking about, just stop it.”

“It’s none of your concern.”

She watched his eyes dance over something disheartening and frowned. She had seen many of her friends go on with their lives despite their evil deeds, turning everything around for the sake of love, family and friendship. Did he not deserve the same? Did she not convey how much he was forgiven? Was Trunks not enough?

Perhaps, she decided, but maybe he needed a push.

She grabbed his hand, relishing in the fact that he did not snatch it back, and placed over her stomach. Vegeta immediately looked down at her gesture, her fingers intertwining with his.

“Hello baby, ” Bulma spoke to their child, “ this is your mama and your papa. Do you feel that? Papa’s hand right above your heartbeat? Do you feel how strong and protective his hand is? Because I do, princess, and I can tell you that you are in great hands. Your parents and your brother can’t wait to meet you, especially your papa. He’s so excited. ” She winked at his blushing face and continued. “Go easy on your papa, okay? He doesn’t know how us Brief women really are, your mama only gave him a taste. But your papa will protect you and love you, just like he’s done for me and your brother. We owe him so much, you know,” she looked up at him and smiled, but his face was still studying the smoothness of her belly.

Their hands jerked and finally his eyes bore into hers, wild with astonishment.

“Was that…? ”

“It was!” Bulma squeezed his fingers, pressing them gently into her skin as it moved around again. She heard Vegeta suck in a quick breath of air.

“Is everything…? ”

“ She’s kicking, hun,” she responded eagerly, easing his premature worry, “she’s saying hello and she hears us.” She reached up then and grabbed his face, lightly caressing his cheek. She ran her thumb over his bottom lip before replacing it with her mouth, lightly pecking it. “And most importantly she’s saying everything will be all right, papa. Your hands must feel comforting to her.”

Vegeta looked back down at the swollen belly. Was that true? Had his daughter really tried to convey that, or was Bulma reaching? The stomach kicked again under his palm, and he set his mouth into a tight line.

He wasn’t sure if he would be the father she needed or wanted. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to make her proud of him, or if he would royally screw things up.

But he was certain of one key thing.

These hands, these calloused hands that had seen too much, done too much, would protect her. He would spend every breath he had making sure his princess was safe.

He swore it.

anonymous asked:

My memory is really fuzzy on past SPN eps, what exactly is the "sacred oath"? I personally don't see Cas ever caring about sex like dean does but other angels on the show sure were frisky lol.

Hey! So I wrote a post about it here and I have answered a couple of questions about it all in my tag “sacred oath breaking”. But the basics are that in 12x10 when Castiel reads out Akobel’s crimes he lists “laying with a human” as breaking their sacred oath. 

So we explored how if that were true, it would affect previous canon. You say the other angels were frisky, but actually you are literally referring to Gabriel and Balthazar only. Gabriel, who hated heaven so much he ran away to join the pagan gods. It isn’t too difficult to imagine that one of the many reasons Gabriel left were the ridiculous rules that the angels put in play when it came to humans. Balthazar actually supports the theory because of this conversation:

CASTIEL: What… is all this? What are you doing?

BALTHAZAR: Whatever I want. This morning I had a ménage à – what’s French for 12?

BALTHAZAR: You’re the one who made it possible. The footsteps I’m following – they’re yours. What you did, stopping the big plan, the prize fight? You did more than rebel. You tore up the whole script and burned the pages for all of us. [ Laughs. ] It’s a new era. No rules, no destiny. Just utter and complete freedom.

CASTIEL: And this is what you do with it?

BALTHAZAR: Hey, screw it, right? I mean, dad’s not coming back. You might as well blow coke and jump on the bed. You proved to me we could do anything, so I’m trying everything. What difference does it make?

This actually heavily implies that there WERE rules against sleeping with humans and after Cas rebelled Balthazar decided that he was gonna follow in Cas’s footsteps. But he had to fake his own death to do it, just like Gabriel. Which also supports the theory that if you do have sex with a human, you better hope the other angels think you are dead because otherwise they will come and kill you.

No other angels have been canonically shown having an interest in sex except for Anna, who explicitly stated that sex with humans was one of the reasons she chose to fall. Which is a huge fucking deal really. 

So sex is something that is forbidden for angels. Castiel hasn’t ever shown an interest in sex really, except when he was human when he probably felt the rules didn’t apply to him anymore. Castiel hasn’t shown interest in casual sex but he has been intrigued at least by the idea of sex with Meg, and took an interest in the Pizza man pornography. 

Its just my headcanon, but the way I see it, after the horrific thing that happened to him as a human, I reckon he associates casual sex with anyone he doesn’t trust as dangerous and distances himself from it. His complete lack of response to Dean’s teasing about the waitress in 12x12 is certainly evidence of his lack of interest in casual sex. Though I don’t think he would be opposed to the idea were it with someone he loved. The issue of course is the sacred oath, which even after all this time, is something that Castiel at least appears to want to uphold. Though I really don’t know why since all the other angels already think he’s boning Dean and want to punish him for it. 

anonymous asked:

Can you doing something like your drunk and you go into pete's hotel room because that's the only room number you could remember and your just really clingy and needy the complete opposite of sober you and all you wanna do is cuddle with him and he's just at a loss of how to handle this situation. ? I really don't know I'm just in desperate need of fluff pete and him not taking advantage of you when he's most capable I just find that really cute, like you making him feel small for once.

i like this tooooooo, but i’m just gonna take a liiiitttllle creative liberty ;D

You stumbled out of the elevator, your head swimming and your legs a little uncooperative. Maybe that last tequila shot that Marty Scurll had handed you was a bad idea.

You were a photographer assigned to follow the Progress/Ring of Honor tour around the United States and had made fast friends with some of the talent. So when you had been invited out by Marty and some of the other Brits, who were you to say no?

But now you were in a bit of a pickle. You’d lost your room key at the bar and you didn’t know if you were in room 512 or 612. You took a gamble and went with 612, hoping that your fellow photographers were in the room to let you in.

You knocked on the door of room 612 and leaned up against the door frame as you waited. You could hear some shuffling from within the room and some grumbling before the door opened.

Oh. That was most definitely not one of your fellow photographers.

This was the Progress World Champion, Pete Dunne’s room.

Oops, but not really.

The Englishman was intriguing to you. He sneered at the other talent and their offers of friendship, but lurked just to the outside of the social circle looking in. He came off as a hard ass to everyone, snarling and snapping if they stepped into his way and just generally treating the crew like shit.

He’d tried that with you too, but you had gotten right back into his face and told him exactly where he could shove his attitude. Chris Daniels and Kazarian had to interject themselves into your argument and pull the two of you away.

But now here was here in front of you, shirtless and in basketball shorts with a serious case of bed head. You didn’t know you needed a sleepy eyed and confused Pete in your life and drunk you just wanted to snuggle up to him.

So you did.

“What the fu-”

His words were cut off by you wrapping yourself around his body and nuzzling your face into his neck. Your arms were locked around his shoulders and one leg had hooked up around his hips, in an almost lewd embrace. You didn’t realize how cold you were until his body heat began to seep into your skin,

“Hi Pete, you’re warm. Why are you in my room?”

Your words were slurred and you stumbled a little. Out of instinct, Pete’s arm wrapped low around your waist to steady you.

“This is my room love. How much did you have to drink tonight?”

You giggled and nuzzled your face into the Englishman’s neck. The arm that was around your waist tightened by a fraction and you could have sworn goose flesh broke out across his shoulders.

“It’s not my fault, Marty kept giving me tequila. I fuckin’ love tequila. How are you so warm? You feel good.”

Pete’s body was as stiff as a board and you could practically hear his not quite awake brain working overtime to process everything.

“D-do you need me to call anyone?”

You shook your head so hard that your entire body swayed.

“No no no its time for bed. Lost my key. Help me?”

You leaned your head back to stare at him, a silly smile on your face. You were leaning pretty heavily into Pete, the alcohol making your sense of balance and coordination practically nonexistent. He didn’t seem mad, his eyes soft with something that your drunken self couldn’t quite identify and a little half smile on his face.

 He sighed, before nodding and assisting you into the hotel room. You gave a whoop of excitement, before releasing your grip and stumbling further into the room.

He stared at your drunken form for just a moment before turning to set the deadbolt on the door.

It was in that moment that he was not looking at you that you had shrugged off your top and wiggled out of your jeans, leaving you in your panties and a camisole. Pete practically choked on his tongue when saw you in your state of undress.

You spun at the sound and made grabby hands.

“Peeeeettteeee, come cuddle! I’m cooolllddd.”

He squirmed uncomfortably, his face hesitant.

“I’ll sleep on the floor, love.”

You screwed up your face in what you think was a frown, before stumbling forward to grab Pete’s hand.

“No. We’re cuddling and that’s final.”

He didn’t resist as you pulled him onto the rumpled bed and didn’t resist when you curled up into his side.You had draped an arm over his broad chest and hooked a leg over his and sighed contently. He was so warm and big and he just felt safe. It was enough to make you practically purr. It was after a stiff moment or two that he relaxed and wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you in tighter.

“G’night Pete.”

“Sleep tight love.”

alistairs  asked:

57. a shot glass - Dettlaff/Regis

Is this even in character? idk ;A; I hope you like it anyway. Unwanted special shoutout to @velvettodraws. Please don’t take this the wrong way, I just really love your Katakan art (and everything else) and it inspired parts of this fic so I wanted to credit where credit is due. ^^’

Regis was drunk. Since he was, as he was ready to admit, a sober vampire who abstained from any and all blood drinking, with the singular exception when he had helped Geralt out, that was quite a feat. He had had to go the old fashioned way, which was more to say: the human way, since the old fashioned way for a vampire was of course drinking blood. All this and more Regis happily explained to his dear friend Dettlaff, who was, as it were, not quite only a friend, but very much dear to him. Dettlaff shot him a fond smile when Regis giggled and called him ‘lover’, which in turn made Regis just have to lean in and plant a kiss on that handsome mouth.

The peasant, the only one around at this time of night and in this alley, stared at them in shock and a moment later simply stopped as Dettlaff returned the stare after letting go of Regis.

“You should not be out tonight,” Regis told the man, straightening out his by now a little more ruffled appearance. The man made no sound, barely moved. A little delayed Regis realized that the man was mesmerized. It was the alcohol. Normally he would have realized it just when Dettlaff had used his ability. Screw Geralt for experimenting with him how to make a vampire drunk without needing blood, or rather screw himself for actually brewing the potions for it. The table back home had been positively littered with shot glasses before they had left on their nightly stroll through the city. Regis couldn’t even say anymore whose idea it had been. Probably his. Most likely his.

Getting drunk on alcohol wasn’t Dettlaff’s style.

“Compliment this man. His name is Regis,” Dettlaff ordered in a low voice that made shivers run down Regis’ spine. There was, Regis found, a little too much threat in his voice, considering the poor man was bound to relieve his bladder in fear of him as soon as the spell was wearing off. On the other hand, Dettlaff’s voice did things to regions of Regis, especially those below the belt.

Like a puppet on strings, the man turned to Regis with a dazed look. “You look very handsome, Sir Regis,” the man said and Regis let out a laugh as Dettlaff waved the man away.

“Not the words I would have used,” Dettlaff said miffed, but one corner of his mouth turning up in a careful smile when Regis threw an arm around his neck and pulled him in for a noisy kiss.

Read the rest on AO3

What Breaks My Heart Is When You Don't Hear Mine.

I’ve always had trouble approaching someone with a fragile ego, because I know if I say anything disagreeable or honest, they’ll defend themselves like crazy with a million excuses or throw insults or throw things off the desk or make ugly-cry-face and cut me off for a month.

I know this because it’s me too.  It’s hard to hear the truth about yourself.  It’s hard to confront the ugliness inside.

But confronting yourself is the only way to be truly liberated from the lies we believe.  Without rebuke, we’re left sauntering in an unseen momentum of darkness that threatens to destroy us by a gradual downhill fade.  The most dangerous way to die is slowly, unaware, in descent.

A few years ago, one of my best friends was messing up with something.  No one else knew but me.  It probably wasn’t a big deal, and no one would’ve been hurt if he continued, but as a friend I had to bring it up.  I really didn’t want to, but I couldn’t just sit by.

My friend is the coolest guy in the world.  I’ve never seen him rage out or say a harsh word in his life.  He was the kind of guy who would walk away from a group the second they began to gossip, who wouldn’t hesitate to break up a street fight on his way home.

But even when I bring the truth to the coolest people: I’ve seen the worst come out of them.  There’s always a mirror-defense where they decide to bring up your grievances, or a lot of casual dismissal, or loud angry hostility.  Honestly, I was jaded to this sort of thing whenever I tried to confront someone, and I expected it to go bad just like with everyone else.

On a Friday, we were hanging out at my place and I sat him down and started with the ominous statement, “I have to talk to you about something."  My voice shook for that entire sentence.  If I wasn’t sitting down, my knees probably would’ve been shaking too.

I told him everything.  I said, "I don’t want anyone else to say something bad about you, that’s why I’m saying this.  You’re my friend, you’re my brother, I want the best for you.”

After I was done, I braced myself.  I physically reeled back, waiting for the shouting match.  

My friend said, “Thank you” – and then he stood up without a word and went to the door, and he left.

For some reason, this was worse.  I couldn’t sleep that night.  I thought I had totally screwed this up.  Friendship, ruined.  Years of loyalty, over.  I kept going over what I said in my brain, all the ways I should’ve worded it differently.

The next day my friend came by.  He sat me down, the same place, the same chairs.  He said, “I thought about what you said.  And you’re right.  I’m going to stop immediately.”

My entire body unclenched.  To be truthful, I almost wept.  I hate to cry in front of people, but I was just so dang relieved.  Some of it was because I was emotionally tightened up, and some of it was my anxiety that I was no longer his friend.  But mostly I couldn’t believe that another human being actually considered what I said and thought it was the best course of action, so he changed his life over it.  I was astonished.

It would’ve been okay if he cussed me out, or never spoke to me again, or kept living his life as before.  I would’ve understood.  I still would’ve loved him the same.  No one owes me anything, and this is not about him “following me."  But the plot-twist is that he actually listened.  Not to me, but to wisdom.  I can’t remember a time when it happened so clean, so quickly, so graciously.

He stuck to his word.  He stopped.  He went out of his way to make sure it never happened again.  And I never tried to play around about it, I never said "I told you so” or “It’s better now right” or “Aren’t you glad you listened."  If anything, we grew closer and stronger.  I was one of the groomsmen for his wedding.

The simple truth is that if you haven’t been told you’re wrong in a long time, you probably have no real friends.  And you might not be a great friend, either, because everyone’s too scared to tell you what’s really real.  But even then, it’s uncomfortable and icky and awkward, and if you ever get to that place of rebuke and honesty, there will be a space of tension where the friendship hangs in the balance.  Yet true friends are willing to risk the friendship out of love for each other, because being a friend is not a fun-filled fantasy where it’s all giggles and games.  Friends also sharpen one another, to be our truest best selves, that we might move forward to greater joy.

Of course, there will be an initial emotional reaction.  There will be dumb rationalizations and a sudden list of "Well what about you."  And I hope you can push past this.  I hope you don’t take it too personally.  Every creature has an instinct of self-preservation, and if you call me out, I will naturally fight back until I feel safe enough to let my guard down.  The only thing we can do is to endure the scratching and stumble through those first reactions, and maybe we can move past this part a little quicker each time.

I also don’t mean we call out everything that bothers us. There’s plenty to just let go.  I don’t mean we become behavior-police or try to catch a slip-up all the time.  Sometimes it’s not your job.  I’ve been there, and that’s not friendship either.  Being accountable is nothing without love and vision, and if you have a self-satisfying relish when you rebuke, you’re not in it for your friend, but yourself.  None of this is about ultimatums or "getting things off my chest."  It’s because I love you too much to stay silent.

I hope we can pursue rebuke, to pursue truth.  I hope we are not only surrounded by yes-men and glad-handlers and kiss-ups.  I hope we are not overly sensitive to spiritual surgery.  I hope you can run through my overreactions and get to that core inside, where you believe I can do better, and you sincerely do love me.  I hope you will hear my heart breaking.

– J.S.

Sleep Talker - Bucky x Reader

Plot: Reader (Y/N) falls asleep during a movie and wakes up to find that she has talked in her sleep, revealing her feelings for Bucky.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 1,963

Warnings: Some language, indications of smut, [slight] spoiler for Finding Nemo if you haven’t seen it in the last 12 years??

Originally posted by buckynsebimagines

Your name: submit What is this?

After nearly thirty minutes, Tony finally picked out the movie he wanted to watch for his mandatory weekly ‘Avengers bonding session’, as he called them. 

“This is the one, my friends, Finding Nemo.” Tony held up the movie as he walked over to the TV to insert it into the DVD player. You rolled your eyes, but made your way over to the couch and sat down on the edge to lean your head against the armrest.

Nat and Clint snuggled up in the chair to the left of the couch. Steve, Sam, and Bruce all found spots on the floor. Thor was still in the kitchen eating pop-tarts. Wanda and Pietro sat in beanbag chairs to your right. Tony sat on the other end of the couch and Bucky made his way into the middle, right next to you. On the outside, you managed to stay calm and collected, but on the inside your stomach was doing backflips.

You had been apart of the Avengers for nearly a year. Ever since then, Bucky has not only been a mentor to you, but also one of your best friends, and the person you have secretly been in love with since you were recruited to the team. And no matter how hard you tried to fight off the feelings you have for Bucky, it always seemed to make things worse.

There were many times that you two sat next to each other during movie or game nights, but for the last few weeks, you’ve found it extremely difficult to focus on anything but Bucky. When they were focused on you, his gray eyes would sparkle, especially as he would smile. You loved his eyes, and they were your favorite things about him, though you really couldn’t find anything you disliked.

Once the movie started, you realized how exhausted you were from the mission earlier that day. Your eyelids became heavy as you tried your hardest to keep them open to watch, but as the diver was scooping the little clown fish into a fish net, you found yourself dozing off.

Keep reading

almiren  asked:

Hi there! Just wanna say I absolutely love your blog! I wanted to request headcanons of Akutagawa, Dazai, Atsushi, Chuuya, and Mori (if that number is too big then just the first 3 are fine! ^-^) with an S/o that is an artist, but when they get really into their paintings/drawings, they don't always pay attention to the boys?

(I did general artist HCs too, I hope that’s okay?)

Akutagawa Ryunosuke

  • For the sake of Akutagawa’s interior decoration, it’s probably a good thing you’re an artist. The only thing clothing his otherwise naked walls is your artwork. No matter what you paint, it’s going on display.
  • Painting is one of the few things Akutagawa compliments often and openly. Art is one of the things he appreciates most; the fact that such emotion and intensity can be displayed without words amazes him. Normally, Akutagawa wouldn’t be anywhere near as vocally encouraging, but he wants you to know how much genuine pleasure your work brings to him, so he praises everything from your brushstrokes to your color choices.
  • Secretly, Akutagawa slips your sketchbook in with his belongings if he’s going on a long trip for the Port Mafia. Looking at your drawings comforts him, and the lines winding across the page quickly become his solace when the two of you are apart. Even when he’s countless miles away from you, a mere glance at your sketchbook’s pages makes the distance seem a little less cold.
  • Akutagawa doesn’t want to pull you away from your hobbies, especially ones that he enjoys as well, so he’s a bit more reluctant to recapture your attention while you’re focused on art. Despite this, he still takes your sudden cold-shoulders a bit personally, even if they’re not intentional.
  • After awhile, Akutagawa will flat-out tell you he’s sick of you tuning him out. He points out that he really doesn’t have that much time to spend with you, what with all the Port Mafia business he’s got to handle.  If you still don’t pack up your supplies, his mood sours instantly. Akutagawa doesn’t dare start putting away your tools himself- he’s worried he’ll screw something up and you’ll be forced to scrap countless hours of work. Instead, he sits perhaps three feet away from you, glowering. He stays there, glaring, still as a statue until you’re simply too uncomfortable to continue. 

Dazai Osamu

  • Dazai praises your art exuberantly and often. There’s no one in the ADA who hasn’t been victim to him waxing poetic on your mastery of shading, the delicacy of your lines, the poetic beauty of your finished pieces. Often, he’ll google complicated artistic terms, just so he can compliment every possible thing there is to point out. Plus, he sounds smarter when he uses words like ‘chiaroscuro’ (even if it’s not always employed strictly in the right context).
  • Often, Dazai seeks out art exhibitions in Yokohama for the two of you to peruse. No matter the quality of the pieces shown, Dazai always pretends to be disappointed, bemoaning the fact that none of your art is there. Whenever you pick out a work that you like, Dazai sidles as close to it as the gallery attendants will let him. After scrutinizing it for awhile (he usually whips out a magnifying glass), he draws back, sighing dramatically and shaking his head. Dazai points out all the aspects that you could’ve done better, mourning the fact that this got into a gallery and your work remains displayed only in his home.
  • Depending on the mood he’s in, Dazai either is alright with letting you alone as you work on your art, or he simply can’t handle being ignored. If he’s in one of the latter moods, kiss any potential progress good-bye. When you focus on your art instead of him, he’s immediately scheming ways of drawing your attention back. All of his brain power is channeled into getting you to acknowledge him.
  • Dazai tries every trick in the book. He starts off with sweet little kisses, smattered on your cheeks and neck, but it only goes downhill from there. If you don’t give in instantly, he morphs into a whiny toddler. Dazai creates racket in the background, pokes at your cheeks, complains about how cruel you’re being, pouting face about two inches away from yours. Things only escalate the longer your will holds out. Once, he set off the fire alarm just so that you’d acknowledge him (he apologized, but he wasn’t really sorry. Setting it off was so satisfying, not to mention effective, he’s got a burning desire to do it again.).

Nakajima Atsushi

  • Atsushi’s simply amazed by your skills. Whenever you show him a finished piece, he beams, eyes shining with awe as he admires your work. Atsushi’s never been too talented with a pencil and paper, and your creative prowess is only one of the countless reasons why he adores you.
  • Unless you specifically allow him sneak peeks, Atsushi avoids your unfinished pieces like the plague. To him, something just doesn’t feel right about glancing at such a personal object in progress. If he does happen to notice an uncompleted project, he’s instantly apologizing to you, begging forgiveness for invading your privacy.
  • If you let him, Atsushi loves to sit back and observe as you work on projects. He admires the way your hands swerve across the paper, sweeping lines with unbelievable grace and precision. He also thinks your facial expressions as you concentrate are adorable. Every time your nose scrunches, or your tongue pokes out of your mouth in concentration, Atsushi can’t help but grin, delighted at your sheer cuteness.
  • Although Atsushi feels a bit slighted when you spend hours fine tuning artwork instead of hanging out with him, he would never dream of interrupting you. Your level of focus amazes him. As long as you’ve got a paintbrush or pencil in your grasp, Atsushi doesn’t disturb you, occupying himself with something quiet and unobtrusive. He doesn’t even want to cause accidental breaks in your concentration, shying away from all loud noise and distracting activities while you’re at work.
  • When you’re in your zone, Atsushi keeps close tabs on you. Meals are left by your workspace to ensure that you don’t forget proper nutrition, there’s always a full water glass somewhere nearby, and his inner mother comes out when it’s long past time to pack it up; Atsushi strongly ‘encourages’ you get enough sleep (ignoring him results in an indignant cold-shoulder; he’s trying to look out for your health and you brush him off?! Unacceptible), no matter how much progress you’re making

Nakahara Chuuya

  • Soon after he discovers you’re an artist, Chuuya’s constantly bothering you to paint something for him. He insists on paying commission. If you won’t let your recompense be money, he’ll settle for paying you in kisses. 
  • Instead of keeping a photograph of you with him, Chuuya holds onto a pocket-sized self portrait. Staring at your likeness, one that you created, brings a smile to his face no matter where he is. The picture especially helps when he’s called away on long Port Mafia tasks; glancing at the image every so often eases some of the loneliness of being apart.
  • Chuuya will love anything you create, but he’ll especially enjoy a scene of Yokohama at night, with the lights glimmering over the water, or a portrait of you two together. After letting you pick out a suitable frame, he hangs every art piece you give him somewhere noticeable; usually, it ends up decorating the walls of the front hall or dining room. Chuuya’s special favorites go in his bedroom. When you’re not with him, it helps ease his loneliness if the last thing he glances before he falls asleep is one of your artworks.
  • You have to be careful complaining about your art supplies when around Chuuya. He’s prepared to splurge any amount just so that you’re outfitted with top-of-the-line tools. Whenever he notices that your pencils are growing dangerously short, or that your paintbrushes are fraying beyond redemption, he immediately surprises you with replacements. They’re always an unbelievably expensive brand, probably foreign, and usually, your initials are etched somewhere.
  • Chuuya will never directly let you know that he’s annoyed when you’re ignoring him. He’ll try every trick in the book to coax you away from your art, though. Chuuya taunts you with the promise of your favorite meals, tries to rub your shoulders until you’re putty in his fingers, even hints at all the other, more… exciting things you could be doing instead. If you’re completely determined to work on your art, he’ll eventually let you be, but he won’t go down without a fight.

Mori Ougai

  • Mori’s absolutely delighted when he finds out your artistic ability. He encourages all of your hobbies, but this one, he’s especially enthusiastic about supporting. Mori’s no art critic, but he does enjoy browsing pieces. If you’re the one to create it, his interest only skyrockets.
  • To Mori’s absolute glee, Elise takes a liking to your art, too. Whenever you’re slaving away on a project, she’s probably got one she’s working on, too; she likes to pick out the same subject as you and compare when you both finish. Mori can never decide which is better when pressed for his opinion (usually by Elise). They’re both masterpieces, he insists, and there’s no competition between masters. Both artworks are hung up together, a plaque underneath them identifying the pieces as a collaboration between the world’s two greatest art masters.
  • Without telling you, Mori calls in a designer and sets up a massive studio for you to work in. The room is fully equipped with every art supply your heart could ever desire. It’s absolutely gorgeous; there’s windows overlooking gardens filled specially with all of your favorite flowers, and skylights littering the ceiling filter in moonlight when you want to work at night. Mori brushes it off as nothing, insisting that artists of your caliber need work spaces that measure up to their skills.
  • Generally, Mori leaves you be when you’re devoting all your attention to your art, although he’ll whine a bit. After he complains for a few minutes that he deserves your attention just as much as any canvas, he abandons the pursuit of your acknowledgement. Mori’s busy enough that he can occupy himself until you’re ready for him again. He’ll be mopey until you’re back in his arms, though.
  • There are, of course, exceptions; when Mori’s looking for sex, no amount of charcoal smeared on your hands is going to stop him. He’ll fuck you right against an easel if he has to. In addition, if Elise wants your attention, he’ll stop at nothing to fulfill her demands. Mori will ensure you give the girl what she wants.

anonymous asked:

Never stop what you're doing! I don't care if your predictions come true or not. I'm always excited to read them & when you're right, but if canon serves us something different, then I don't think people can blame awesome meta writers like you for raising the bar too high. I also love how you promote "Let the writers tell their story" before complaining. Would I have like something less open ended for FS? Sure! Was it an amazing episode nonetheless: Hells yes! Summary: Love what you do! ❤️❤️

@agent-bash  said:  You are amazing. Screw that other anon and everything they said. You’re amazing. Everything you do for this fandom goes above and beyond truly. Your theories/meta, the answers to the asks you get, how reassuring you are to those who come to you panicked. It’s incredible! You almost always preface or close everything with the fact that it’s only a theory based on your interpretation of the show and articles anyone who reads them for absolute need to read a little closer. Thank you for all you do!

Anonymous said:  Hope you’re okay after that episode. Thanks for everything you do. I guess a lot of us are just frustrated with the show right now. I have to be honest I still haven’t decided if I’m going to watch next season. It wasn’t only the fans who were misled, it was the tv writers too. If you back to all the interviews after the LMD pod ended almost all the writers asked about a Fitzsimmons engagement or wedding. They continued to ask about it until right before the finale, they clearly thought some reporters thought something was up, or going to happen as well. They paid off the whole conversation about Fitz’s father, so a lot of people they would pay off the marriage talk as well. I guess we were wrong.

@perthshire-and-pemberley  said:  Myself and many others appreciate what you do for the fandom!!! ❤️ That being said.. good luck with all the asks in the next few days!!!

Anonymous said:  I’m sorry that an anonymous person was rude and unjust to you. Internet is full of such weird reactions, nothing new, but it can hurt. One thing is certain - hundreds of people read you and appreciate you, so, thank you for being her for us:)

Anonymous said:  Hi, I just wanted to say you shouldn’t listen to what that anon said. You’re an amazing part of the fandom and a lot of us are so grateful for all you do. This fandom wouldn’t be the same without you. <3

@youdovethroughaholeintheuniverse    said: Hi! Just wanted to offer some words of thanks and encouragement! I saw that anon who said you should stop predicting because you’re theories sometimes don’t fall through, but that’s ridiculous. They’re theories! That’s the whole point! We’re all just trying to figure out and predict what’s going to happen. What you say is encouraging and positive and informative and amazing. The fandom appreciates you so much and loves all of your metas. Keep on theorizing and DFTBA (Don’t Forget To Be Awesome)!

Anonymous said:  Hello! i just wanna say that you’re amazing and personally i really admire you for your capacity of deduction, you’re dedicating a lot of your time to us, you deserve all the LOVE. i am so grateful with all you do and thank you for another season, we’re here with you for another one.

@0hcicero  said:Hey my favourite Science fiction Sherlock investigating fandom queen, I just wanted to pop by your inbox and tell you that A) I will seriously punch that anon in the dick if you want me to, and B) you are loved, all that you do is valued and appreciated, and that this fandom adores you for all of the time and dedication you give us. You’re always the soul of circumspection, and a true balm to so many disappointments. You are wonderful, you are loved, and you didn’t deserve what that anon said.

@ultimate-fangurl  said: Hey I saw your were getting some mean comments and just wanted to let you know that so many of us really really appreciate what you do :) this fandom just wouldn’t be the same without you and I know how much hard work you must put into it. You are always so kind, polite and helpful plus a real genius and writing metas and making predictions (even if they’re not always 100%, they’re still AMAZING predictions!) so thank you so much! ps I have a million questions but I’ll let you catch your breath!

said  :Don’t listen to that anon! You do a great job! You’re kind and smart and have lots of geat theories. I always like reading what you write. Thank you for everything you do for the fandom!

Anonymous said:  Hi I disagree with that Anon. Your theories gave me hope when I had none for this show. And the thing is- they are theories! No one had to come read but we all wanted to. It’s no ones personal responsibility for getting the fandom to become entitled? Please know that your work provides lots of happiness and is very appreciated.

Have to say I am completely and utterly overwhelmed by the response guys.   I was shocked when I logged on this morning.   Thank you everyone so much for your messages and comments.  And @ughfitz for that post.  You guys have me in tears and I am truly touched right now.  I’ve taken my breath and am ready to get back to ‘work’.  


My mom used to say something to me as a child, “If you were really sorry you wouldn’t have done [whatever misdeed] in the first place.”  It always made me feel awful, but I accepted it as some truth, because it was coming from my mom, right?  It wasn’t until I was an adult and mentioned that to someone else and they responded, “WTF?!  That’s not how it works!” that I started to realize the effed up logic in that idea.  (Side note: with an adult perspective, I now see that this was probably something her abusive parents said to her, and I’m willing to bet she wouldn’t say it now - but it still hurt me when I was a kid.)

Feeling sorry for something you did wrong after you did it is never a bad thing.  You should feel sorry.  You should want to make up for your mistakes and correct them.  And hopefully, prevent them from happening again.  When someone tells you, “Well, since you did it in the first place, there’s no way you can be truly sorry about it now.  So, no forgiveness for you,” it’s horrible.  It makes you feel worthless and like you are evil and there’s no point in trying, because no one is going to accept it anyway.  

Any of this sounding familiar?  Does it sound like what the SHIELD team did to Ward after the end fo Season 1?  Good, because that’s exactly what happened.  They told him repeatedly there was no way that he could possibly be sorry enough, so don’t even bother trying.  They told him he was evil, everything was his fault, and there was no chance of redemption.  He kept trying for a little while, but it eventually became too much and he became the monster they kept telling him he was - the man without remorse.  (Even though he had buckets full of it much earlier.)  The SHIELD team basically said to Ward what my mother used to say to me.  

So many people have decried, criticized, and excoriated the AoS writing and showrunning team for this teribly toxic narrative.  And they are right to do so.  It’s a horrible, horrible message to send.  That there is no forgiveness, that you are inherently evil, that circumstances don’t matter, and there is no coming back from any misdeeds.   The writers messed up, big time.  And they went a long time without acknowledging any mistakes and even mocking people for calling them out. 

But then things started to change.  The narrative of the show in Season 4 has been much tighter, more consistent, and best of all - they’ve started acknowledging mistakes they made.  They’ve had characters say lines and make different decisions, acknowledging past screw ups. (Coulson, most notably, has commented more than once how he was hellbent on revenge last year and he did bad things because of it and he regrets it now, then he’ll go on to make a better choice.)  I’ve watched it with a healthy amount of trepidation and caution, I’ve been burned by these writers before, but also relief and hope because they’re finally making it better.  It isn’t perfect, they haven’t completely atoned for their truly bad writing from previous seasons, but they are trying.  They’re making improvements and trying to right past wrongs.  Hoo-freaking-ray!!!!!  

Isn’t this what we want?  Don’t we want the writing team and the SHIELD team to do better?  Don’t we want them to correct their mistakes and make better choices?  Isn’t this exactly what we’ve been crying out for, for Ward?  That he be given the chance to make things better, even with his crimes as terrible as they were.  If we can call for redemption and forgiveness for a character who committed murder and all sorts of other crimes, can’t we allow a little space for the writers of a tv show to correct their wrongs as well?  If all we do is scream “too little, too late” at them, what incentive do they have to keep going with this?  If we tell them, “If you were really sorry, you wouldn’t have f***ed up in the first place,” how are they going to want to keep going?  And if they don’t keep going, then we’re going to end up with an even worse situation.  I’m not saying immediately absolve them of all their mistakes.  I am saying we need to give them a little bit of space, and grace, to atone for their errors, without jumping down their throats, vilifying, and completely invalidating them.

If we claim to stand for forgiveness and redemption, even for truly heinous acts, we have to be willing to extend it to more than just fictional characters.

anonymous asked:

hi! i was the anon who requested the akashi and his s/o scenario. sorry for asking for such a cliched situation ahh. i also just saw your bts post tell me who your bias ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) i don't really have an original idea and once i saw "save me" all i can think of is maybe akashi's father deciding to appoint someone else as his successor because he thinks his son doesn't meet his standards and like literally all his efforts have gone to waste and he seeks comfort from his s/o? hope this is okay!!

lol don’t worry abt it it was my fault too i forgot to clarify. also bts children elajwerl can’t wait to see them live this summah. also tbh akashi’s dad prolly wont do that just cos family lines and everything bUT IF THIS HAPPENS I S2G

Akashi wanted to storm out of that office, wanted to douse it in gasoline and set it on fire. After years and years of his hard work, after all the misery he’s been shoved through, all the training, everything he’s worked for seemed fruitless. And he was proven right when he was introduced to the new, future fucking CEO of Akashi Corporations. Maintaining his composure proved to be a challenge, nothing he hadn’t done before. But at that moment, all that went through his mind was strangling this man in front of him to death.

“Seijūrō, this is Hiroto-san. He is the future of Akashi Corporations.”

As soon as those words had left his father’s mouth, Akashi couldn’t suppress the flash of surprise in his eyes. Hiroto caught it and felt his lips twitch.

“A pleasure to meet you.” Akashi smiled politely, shaking his hand.

“The same to you.”

“Hiroto has been my right hand man for over fifteen years now and he knows the company inside out. This is why I’ve decided to make him the successor to the company, at least until I know you’re ready to make rational, mature decisions for the good of our business.”

Rational? Mature? What the fuck? When the hell has he ever made an irrational decision? If his father were still bitter about his choosing you as a partner for life, then he can go screw himself. You had no influence over the decisions he made for work. “Well, I appreciate the help. I’ll be happy to temporarily leave the head position in the company to someone as experienced and dedicated as you until I am fully ready.”

His father was momentarily surprised by the calmness in Akashi’s response before he nodded. “Alright. Well, I just wanted to call you in for that. We’ll make things official soon but, for now, let’s get back to work, shall we?”

When he arrived home that night, you had just returned and was setting up the dinner table for the two of you. “Hey,” you smiled at him only to receive a weaker one in return. Frowning, you curled up around him. “Are you okay?”

Then Akashi told you everything about Hiroto and his father’s plans. Your lips pursed together. You could feel the anger boiling inside of you but you knew this wasn’t your fight. This was Akashi’s and all you could do was stand by him and support him.

Pressing a kiss to his lips, you looked earnestly up at him. “Listen to me. You’re strong and you’re intelligent and I’ve never met a man more suitable for the job than you. I know that you only want the best for the company your father had built from the ground so I know how hard you work. And trust me when I say that you’re going to have it all someday.”

He sighed, jaw clenching.

“And you know what you’re going to do now? You’re going to work your ass off and push through that extra mile like you always do. This sucks but maybe this extra time will allow more space for experience so you can do an even better job. But you’re going to do this. You got this.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He breathed out, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s not worry about any of this for now. Let’s have dinner, yeah?”

You nodded. “But if you ever need to let it out, I’m always here. I may not be the best with advice but I’ll readily listen to you, okay? Don’t bottle it up inside all the time. It’s not healthy.”

He smiled for the first time that night and agreed.