like. i couldn't decide which ones i liked best so i used .... all of them .

Put on a Show for Me - Let Me Show You Part 2

Author’s Notes: Despite how long it took me to post this, I actually had a lot of fun writing it. Hopefully, you’ll enjoy it too. Again sorry for any typos. I try to edit it, but I miss things. 

Word Count: 3,413 (Get yourself a snack, kids. This shit is long af.)

Warnings: Smut. I mean is there anything else worth writing?

Part One: Let Me Show You

Roman knew you were reaching your breaking point. As much as you tried to stay cool and collected under the gaze of his bedroom eyes, he could tell it was all an act. Being an upir had its advantages. One of them being how he could catch your eye and sense your body remembering every welcomed violation he performed on your pleasure deprived body only a few hours prior. He could hear your heart race and he could all but taste the blood rushing to his favorite spot between your thighs. He wanted you again the moment he watched you fall into euphoria in his arms.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hello! So I was scouring the Internet for advice today but I couldn't find any on this topic. My problem isn't that I don't have any ideas (I probably have too many) but the problem is that I don't LOVE any of my ideas. I like them. I think they're all fine ideas. But liking them isn't going to motivate me long enough to finish a novel. How can I give my ideas that extra uumph to make me love them? How can I figure out what's missing or why I don't feel this way about any of my ideas?

Hello, nonny!  What a challenging question…  This one’s been in my inbox a couple days, just because it’s such a big question.  But I’ve thought it over and I think I have some ideas for you :)

The Thrill Is Gone – How to Find It Again

So generally, there’s no one answer or cure-all to this problem.  I’ve had this issue multiple times, with different causes.  My first novel didn’t have enough meat to the plot; my second novel had been over-planned in my head to the point that it no longer excited me.  My third novel had way too much plot, so that by the time I got ¾ the way through, I’d written over 200K words and felt sick of the idea.  I started my fourth novel way too soon, and am now going back and planning it more!  So there are obviously many different reasons that a story doesn’t take off (or dries up eventually).

The first step is to figure out what’s missing, like you said.  There are a few aspects of your story to assess…

1. Plot

I’m discussing plot first because, to me, it’s the most important part of fiction.  Plot, conflict, and stakes are foremost to my stories.  You could have the most complex and sympathetic characters, but without plot, they’re static and become boring.  But for some reason, this is the part of story ideas that new authors neglect most!

So if your story has great characters and an immersive setting, but you can’t get into it, try asking a few questions about your plot:

  • What is the point of the plot?  What’s the message you’re conveying in the story?  Even if your story isn’t an allegory or a metaphor or the next Chronicles of Narnia, there should always be a conclusion to which all plots arrive – otherwise, the story can feel aimless.  The best way to find your message is to look at the conflicts involved (e.g. Man vs. Man, Man vs. Nature, etc.) and find the “winner”.  What worldview, belief, or concept “defeats” the other concepts?  It can be as simple as Good vs. Evil, or more complex, like Loving the Sincere Drug Addict vs. Settling for the Selfish Dentist (provokes the question “Is love worth danger in relationships?”).
  • Does the plot have ups and downs?  And really consider both ends of the spectrum here.  Stories become dull if they are made up of victory after victory – or if they’re made up of nothing but loss and tragedy.  No matter the genre, you have to strike some sort of balance, lest the story become predictable and emotionally non-engaging.  Find victories and failures, even in unassuming places, to keep readers invested and hopeful.
  • Do you have a satisfactory ending?  Or do you have the ending     planned yet?  I’ve found that I can’t really commit to an idea unless I see a resolution – otherwise I feel too nervous to start.  If you do have an ending planned, make sure it’s the right ending.  It can feel like there’s one possible conclusion, and once you’ve found it, you stick to it – but question it, brainstorm it.  It may not be a happy ending every time, but when you find the right one, you’ll know it.
  • Do you have the right plot at all?  Look at your story as a whole.  Does it start too early or too late, relative to the real meat,     the real action?  Is it told from the most impactful POV?  Does the plot cover too much ground for one book, or is it not enough to fill the pages?  Consider all the characters, backstories, and subplots you have, and ask yourself if any of them are more interesting than the main plot.  If so, shift your focus.  Use them instead.

2. Characters

Maybe it’s not your plot that’s going sideways.  Maybe you have it all worked out – the head, the tail, the whole damn thing – but it still doesn’t feel right.  It doesn’t feel like it’s coming to life, somehow.  It feels flat.

That can be a character problem.  It would be like sitting by the campfire and hearing the most fascinating, horrifying story, except it’s told by a man with The Most Boring Voice Who Talks So Incredibly Slowly and Takes All the Fun Out of Everything.  An example: The Hunger Games.  Those books bored the crap out of me.  Unless someone was being killed or Haymitch and Effie were interacting, I just didn’t care.  And those books had a great plot behind them!

So here’s what you need for a good cast of characters:

  • A solid protagonist.  Solid = three-dimensional, empathetic, and relatable; having a goal, an internal conflict, a self-image, and fears or shame.  They should have different facets of themselves – their head and their heart, their desires and doubts, and that little voice in their head that says, “Give up on that.  Be realistic.”  Give them strengths, weaknesses, and a couple of bad habits, for kicks.
  • A variety of supporting characters.  You don’t have to have thirty characters + six secret characters stuffed under your trench coat; but with however many characters you have, make them as different from each other as possible.  Give them some similarities, of course, so that they can relate to each other – but never make them so close together that you have to decide, “Who should say this line?  Character A or Character B?”  Make them unique enough that the words come out of their mouths, instead of you having to decide where to put the words, yourself.
  • Relationships, relationships, relationships.  And I’m not talking about romantic relationships.  I mean, sure, those too – but there are many different kinds of relationships to explore.  Friendships, enemy-ships (?), parent relationships, sibling-ships, silent alliances, “annoying friend-of-a-friend”-ships, “my-ex’s-little-sister”-ships, “you’re-the-ruler-of-the-galaxy-and-a-Sith-lord-but-also-my-dad-please-stop-being-evil”-ships…  You get the idea.  Make them unique, make them strong, and allow them to evolve over the course of the story.
  • Diverse morals, interests, and personalities.  My first short stories focused on white middle-class people who were culturally and politically identical.  They lived in one house, usually, and watched the same TV shows and made the same references.  They had the same sense of humor.  They rarely disagreed on anything that wasn’t clear-cut (e.g. “You drank the last Pepsi!”  “I was thirsty!”).  So do yourself a favor and don’t make my mistakes.  Give your characters unique ethics, cultures, backgrounds, personalities, goals, appearances, and conflicts.  You’ll be more invested by then, I’m sure.

3. Setting

Lastly, I’d like to add that while your characters and plot could be well-developed, there’s always a chance that they’re placed in the wrong setting.  This is why many story ideas can seem great, but won’t get off the ground – maybe they’re set in a pre-made universe like Middle Earth or Panem when they could be their own story.  Maybe your tragic romance is set in the middle of apocalyptic war, when instead, it should be drained down to a period piece.  Maybe your story is perfect, except you’re writing it too close to home – in the real world, in the present year.  There are a million factors to picking the right setting, including:

  • Applicable history and culture.  If you’re writing a story about someone who’s oppressed, or someone who’s a politician, or someone who’s a witch, you’re going to need to back that up with history.  Develop a history for the oppression or politics or witchcraft – where these things began, how they developed over time – and a culture for them now – how oppressed people survive and how witches in your world interact, etc.
  • Imaginative scenery, influenced by the characters.  Even if your story takes place in New York City in 2017, allow your characters’ living spaces and workplaces to have a unique touch – colors and quirks that your readers can see in their mind.  If even you can’t see what you’re writing, inspiration is going to be difficult to find.
  • A lifelike background.  Just because the plot focuses on your characters does not mean everything going on behind it should be quiet and dead.  Anyone who looks out a window in a city building can see other people living – people on the highway will see other cars taking other people other places.  Everyone who has a friend will hear a little something about their friend’s siblings, their friend’s friends, their friend’s neighbors.  Life and stories exist outside of your plot; make sure you’re not writing about a ship in a bottle.
  • An aesthetic.  That sounds gross and teen-tumblr-y, but let me tell you personally: I don’t feel truly ready to write (and love) my story until I can hear the music for the future movie adaptation – until I can see the kind of clothes the people wear, the games they play, the places they eat and shop.  I think of the colors and themes in my scenes (e.g. my first novel was set primarily at night in a grunge/city setting; my current novel is very green and outdoorsy and gives me that feeling of bonfires just after sunset).  Once you get that “feeling” from your story, you’ll know it.

Anyway, this reply took me like three days to write because I really wanted to get into it.  I hope some of this helps you to fall in love with one of your ideas, so you can get started :)  If you have any more questions, be sure to send them in!

(I have 26 questions in the inbox, though, so be patient with me…)

If you need advice on writing, fanfiction, or NaNoWriMo, you should maybe ask me!

anonymous asked:

For supernatural AU, how long does Tony wait to return? How long does he agonize over deciding if it's to soon or too late? What if he got busy for work or something and couldn't return for a week would he agonize over them forgetting him?

Tony waits three days. He’s heard somewhere that’s how long you should wait so you don’t seem desperate. (“You are desperate,” Jarvis reminds him. “Yeah, but I don’t want them to know that.”) And then he spends the entire day agonizing over whether he waited too long because when he mentioned it to Pepper and Rhodey and Happy they’d all looked at him like he was crazy. Maybe the three days thing was just a TV thing, like stalking people into loving you on rom-coms. Which means he waited too long and he fucked up and Steve and Bucky won’t be interested anymore. Oh no. Why was he always so awful at this. No wonder no one could stand dating him. Not that they were dating. It was just sex. And Steve is an incubus, so he could have anyone. There are probably more attractive people, people who are younger (or their bodies appear younger), who can keep up with the amounts of sex Steve and Bucky want without Steve having to help them. Jarvis takes pity on him and tells him he doesn’t have to go to the club. But Tony can tell that Jarvis wants to go. Well, it’s not like he hasn’t suffered through watching the people he wants choosing someone else anyway. Maybe he’ll be surprised. (Jarvis feels the curdling disappointment anyway. Tony doesn’t really believe he’ll be surprised. He doesn’t want to probe too deep but he hates everyone that has made Tony feel this way.)

So Tony goes to the club. Steve and Bucky aren’t even at their table. They probably–probably already took someone up to their room. Tony tells himself he’s not upset and asks the bartender for the most alcoholic drink a human can stand. She frowns at him sympathetically and sets down a huge glass full of fruit and alcohol. It’s… actually delicious. Tony’s still bitterly disappointed but this drink… kind of makes it okay. Jarvis sends out a little pulse of amusement that makes the aching pressure in his chest ease a little bit. He’ll be alright. Even if no one else wants him, he still has Jarvis.

And then hands are gripping his waist, claws digging into his jacket, and a cold nose is being dragged up his neck. Tony stiffens and Jarvis readies himself to defend them, but then a familiar Brooklyn drawl says, “Hey, babydoll. You’re back.” Tony shivers and bites his bottom lip, tilting his head to the side so Bucky’s lips can take the same path his nose went. “I–I got busy,” he lies, because ‘I didn’t know how long to wait so I depended on TV knowledge to help me’ sounds really stupid. “Mm,” Bucky acknowledges, kissing up and down his neck. “Happens to the best of us. Wanna come sit with us, sweetheart? Steve’s a shit dancer. We can bring your drink.” “Well,” Tony says, smiling reluctantly. “If I can bring my drink.”

He yelps when Bucky tugs him up with one arm, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s shoulders frantically. Bucky catches his drink with the other hand and salutes the bartender with it before carrying Tony over to their table. “I–I can walk!” Tony stutters, trying to pretend he’s offended but mostly impressed that Bucky doesn’t look like it takes any effort to hold him. Maybe it doesn’t. “Yeah, but I like holdin’ you,” Bucky replies, shrugging, and then smirks. “Look who I found, Stevie.” Steve looks up from glaring at a goblin who’s hitting on every female he can find and his face brightens when he sees Tony. “Hey, sweetheart. I missed you.” Tony blushes. “I–I got busy–” Steve makes grabby hands for him, and Bucky snorts and sets Tony down on his lap.

Tony barely gets time to stutter out a confused ‘what’ before Steve is cupping his jaw and tilting his head back for a deep, wet kiss. Tony moans, one hand reaching up to grab Steve’s shoulder. He doesn’t even mind that Steve manhandles him around so he’s straddling his lap–Steve has a very talented tongue, and his hands are sliding up and down his sides, his back, clutching at him wherever he can reach. Tony breaks the kiss with a startled gasp when he feels Steve’s hand slide down, fingers pressing between his cheeks through his clothes. “Oh!” “Missed you,” Steve repeats, mouthing at his neck. “Missed how warm you are against me, how you didn’t wanna let me up in the morning when you were sleeping. Missed Jarvis glowing at me. Missed your sweet ass.” Tony tilts his head back with a keen as Steve finds his hole with his fingers, pressing and rubbing against it through his slacks. “Steve.” His hips start rolling almost of their own volition, cock grinding up against Steve’s stomach.

“Aw, Steve,” Bucky coos, picking a ball of watermelon from Tony’s drink and popping it into his mouth. “You finally found a little exhibitionist.” Tony groans and hides his flushed cheeks against Steve’s shoulder, embarrassed, but he doesn’t stop rolling his hips–because Steve might stop rubbing him through his slacks and that would be a tragedy. “Steve, Steve!” Steve nips and sucks at his throat, murmuring, “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Can’t wait to take you upstairs, fuck your greedy hole. You stayed away too long, honey.” Tony bites his bottom lip. He hadn’t wanted to seem needy. That, at least, he knew wasn’t attractive.

“Steve,” Bucky says after a minute. “When did we get so much fruit at our bar?” Steve mouths at Tony’s neck a little longer but eventually slows to a stop. “…What?” “When. Did we get. So much fruit,” Bucky repeats slowly, and Steve leans around Tony to see Tony’s (giant) glass of mojito with various cuts of fruit in it–watermelon balls, dragonfruit, oranges, blueberries, strawberries, cherries, a couple apple slices, and muddled lime wedges. “…What,” Steve says again, because when did they get so much fruit at their bar. Tony squirms around to look at it as well. “I just looked sad and asked for something that wouldn’t kill me.” Steve frowns. “Aw, honey, why were you sad?” “Uh,” Tony says, and then grabs his glass and sucks down a huge gulp. He gets another watermelon ball that contrasts with the mint perfectly and lets out a surprised but happy “oh, nice!”

(Later, when Tony’s more secure in their relationship, he admits his silly thought process. “…Is it not three days?” Steve asks after a moment. Bucky looks at him in disgust. “Oh my God, Steve, it’s not real. The waiting period to not look desperate is not fucking real.” “Are you sure?” “Get away from me,” Bucky orders, turning away from him, even more disgusted. “Don’t talk to me. Don’t even look at me. I’m leaving. Don’t come and find me.” Tony watches him go, concerned. “Did–Did I do something wrong?” “Nah, he just gets mad when he remembers how shitty I am at flirting,” Steve replies, shrugging. “There’s a reason that it was Bucky who approached you, honey.” Tony stares up at him silently. What does that even mean.)

((He learns what that means when Steve gets fall-down-drunk and leans his chin on his hand and slurs, “Tony, you’ve got pretty eyes. Like dirt.” Bucky snorts his beer out of his nose. Tony stares back at him impassively. “Oh yeah?” “Yeah,” Steve insists. “But like, a good dirt.” “Oh, a good dirt?” “Like the kind you put flowers in. The dirt really good for fertilizer? Animals make it.” “…Steve, are you talking about manure?” Tony asks slowly. Steve slaps his hand down on the table. “Yes! You got it, Tony, your eyes are like manure. Ooh, do you think I could get that drink you got when you were sad? Do you think Emily will give me one?” “Just ask her for my sad drink, honey,” Tony says, and Steve slithers out of the booth and staggers toward the bar. Tony looks at Bucky, who has covered his mouth and is crying with the effort of not laughing loud and long like an idiot. “Apparently shit is beautiful,” he says seriously, and Bucky gives up, guffawing. There was a reason Bucky approached him.))

(((“Because it makes things groooow!!!!” Steve wails from under the blankets. Tony sighs and tries to tug the comforter off of him. “I get it, Steve.” “No, leave me,” Steve begs, curling the blankets tighter around him. “Just let me die.” “Just let him be,” Bucky says, smirking. “I can’t wait until he remembers coming back and telling you that he likes how tiny you are, but not your dick.” There’s a long pause, and Steve wails, “NOOOOOOO!!!!!” “You should stop getting that drunk,” Tony suggests. Steve moans sadly. “Let me die.”)))

anonymous asked:

Hey so I just watched Mrs. Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children and although it's not a scary movie I got really freaked out (i'm a scaredy cat), and it made me think what if Harry made you watch a very scary movie and you couldn't go to sleep cause your scared you'll dream about it and he has to go to meeting really early in the morning and you won't let him sleep because your scared but really it's his fault your in that condition




I feel like since Halloween is all about the dramatics which is what Harry is about as well, this is something he’d go all out for. Maybe you guys end up having a movie night together in your house, cuddled on the floor wrapped up in heaps of blankets, using a couple more to make a fort cos why not? The heater in the apartment would be on and Harry has a whole array of movies picked out for the two of you to watch and while you’re okay with animated Halloween movies like Hotel Transylvania or maybe even stretching the extra mile and watching Casper The Friendly Ghost. 

It’s when the movies shift from fun and cute to little more sinister that you get spooked out and you tell him that, which he brushes off as you being silly, “Know I’ll protect yeh, right? ‘Sides, there’s no such thing as ghosts, baby.” And you try to keep a brave face really cos you don’t want to interrupt movie night and come across as a wimp although you were way past that stage in your relationship where you have to worry about the others’ opinion of things you do. So you try to get over it, keeping you jumpiness to the minimum so even when Hannibal Lecter is smiling like a creep on the screen, you try not to let it show as to how uncomfortable you really were, instead just opting to hide your face in his neck letting out a silent whimper, clutching a little tighter on to the soft fabric of his sweater draped over his frame. 

From the moment the vibe of the movies changed, you knew that you weren’t getting any sleep that night. And you also knew that harry had a meeting with his management about his upcoming arena tour the next morning so you tried your best to calm your nerves, opting to let him snore away with his head on your chest as you laid back against the headboard, the humming in the background hoping that Friends would help your state. It’s about 3 a.m when you finally give up trying to sleep that you decide to wake up the snoozing boy next to you.

You gently nudge him awake, “Harry, wake up! I can’t sleep.”

He mumbles and groans under his breath before trying to shuffle away from you to continue sleeping. “S’ late, love. Go to sleep.”

“I’m not able to sleep Harry and if I can’t that means you can’t either! It’s your fault you know?”

He’s slowly waking up, knuckling at his eyes to get the crusty bits out and try to keep them open enough to have a coherent conversation with you.

“What’s the matter?” He’s backing up to sit against the headboard as his arms stretch out to loop around your neck, pulling you closer so you can lay your head on his shoulder.

“I told you I don’t want to watch ‘Silence of the Lambs’ and yet we saw it and now I keep thinking of a cannibal creep eating me in my sleep.”

“Wait, yeh were serious about that? I thought yeh were kidding, babe. Didn’t think yeh meant it, would’ve put on somethin’ else if I’d known.”

“Of course I was not kidding. Now I am so spooked, I can’t fall asleep and I feel bad for keeping you up but being awake alone spooks me too.”

“Nonsense, if you’re not sleeping then I’m not either. I’ll just tell Jeffrey to make it a lunch meeting instead if that’s okay with everyone.  How about we go and get something to drink, yeah? Can make some hot chocolate with marshmallows and extra chocolate, you know the whole jazz. How’s that sound? Good?”

“Sounds great! Stomach’s grumbling at the thought. You’re forgiven for now but if you pull this stunt again, I’ll kick you in the nuts, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

xphxntrxshx  asked:

There's a father daughter dance but Hal couldn't go, so FP dances with Betty instead.

I decided that I like these three prompts together. Thank you again @xphxntrxshx for the awesome prompt! Slight AU because in this F.P. isn’t doing any time and Hal never got to go back into the Cooper house.

Betty ducked her head to avoid the posters coating the walls of Riverdale High. In bright colours all around her, the words father-daughter dance floated tauntingly, reminding her every second of each school day how much her father didn’t care. He wouldn’t even speak to her, let alone go to a dance with her, not after this weekend. 

He hadn’t been happy, in fact, her father had been in a rage when he found out. Betty had run out of the Register the night he found out, tears streaking down her face, leaving the mess that her father had made, of both the Register and their family.


Jughead had gone to see her mother last week. They had a long conversation, Jughead wringing his beanie in his long fingers, his black hair falling in waves over his knitted brow as Alice had scrutinized him, lips pursed.

 That night, Alice had sat down with Betty on the edge of her soft duvet. She seemed tired, but happier than Betty had seen her mother in weeks.

“Do you love Jughead?” Alice asked, an uncharacteristic softness to her voice.

“Yeah, mom, I really do.” her green eyes steeled in determination to look into her mother’s, only to see Alice’s eyes soft and warm, for the first time since Betty’s childhood.

“So much that you would marry him tomorrow if you got the chance?” Alice asked, probing gently.

“Yes, I would. He’s my person.”

With that Alice stood up, kissing Betty gently on the forehead, before heading to the trailer park to find Jughead.


Betty closed her locker to find the lean boy resting against the locker next to hers. 

“You know,” Jughead started, leaning in towards her “my dad is your dad now, so I could easily arrange for him to go to the father-daughter dance with you. He’d be honoured, he loves you. It’s a Jones thing, actually, scratch that,it’s an everyone thing. Who doesn’t love you?” he smiled with a brilliant dazzle that made her heart smile. She knew that he was only half joking.

“I don’t know Juggie, he isn’t really my dad, I don’t want to ask him just to have him say no.”

“He won’t say no, I promise. I’ll ask him.” Jughead entwined his fingers in hers, gently tugging her to their first class of the day. 

To say that the day was uneventful would be to lie. They hadn’t told anyone, but it didn’t take long for all of Riverdale to find out.

“Betty Cooper-Jones” the ancient, bored Biology teacher sighed out, tired into only five minutes of the day. 

“Here!” Betty’s voice chirped out from her seat in the back corner. Every face in the classroom faced them, eyes so wide that they may burst from their sockets. 

“Forsythe Pendleton Cooper-Jones” the teacher continued, unperturbed, with all of the classes jaws dropping to match their widened eyes. 

Jughead lazily raised his hand, only a few fingers splayed, seeming almost as undisturbed as the teacher. One of them his ring finger, newly decorated with a thick silver band. 

The teacher continued class as usual, droning on about the nervous system in a voice that simply provided white noise to the whirling minds of Riverdale High. Veronica and Kevin couldn’t stop fidgeting in their seats. 

When the bell finally rang, a time that seemed like years after the first, everyone stood up, practically rushing the newlyweds in the corner. Jughead gave Betty a panicked look, she knew that he had always hated crowds.

Before the crowd could reach them, Betty tugged Jughead by the hand into the hall. Despite avoiding the larger crowd, there was a few peoplethat wouldn’t be avoided so easily. 

“MY BEST FRIEND GOT MARRIED AND I WASN’T INVITED?!” Veronica screeched, bringing the hallway to a standstill. If anyone didn’t know about the marriage before, they sure knew now. 

“V, shhh. We didn’t tell anyone because we didn’t want anyone to try to stop us. We made up our mind, his dad and my mom agreed to sign the paperwork, so we just did it. It was only us, Polly, and F.P., we were tired of waiting, we’re soulmates, you said it yourself. Plus this gets me away from my dad, which is a bonus. He was really scary when he found out.”

 Tears welled up in Betty’s eyes at the side of her father that she had seen only a few days prior. She finally understood what Alice had been protecting her and Polly from all these years. Veronica grabbed her hand that wasn’t entwined with Jugheads, smiling gently at her before jerking her head towards the bathroom. Betty let go of her husband’s hand and allowed herself to be pulled to the washroom.

Once they were inside and Veronica had shooed the chatty girls out, the raven haired girl turned to her honey blonde friend with a twinkle in her dark eyes.

“How did he propose?! I’m dying to know!” Veronica squealed yet again, this time eliciting a shy smile from Betty. 

“ He told me to go to Pop’s and he had had Pop close down the diner so it was just us, and the whole place was filled with twinkle lights.And on our table he had put a letter for me detailing how much he loved me. Then he came out of the kitchen with milkshakes and got down on one knee.” Betty’s smile grew at the memory.

“That is so adorable, omg!” Veronica threw her arms around her best friend, squeezing her tightly before the two reentered the hallway, where Jughead was being grilled by Kevin.

“Can we at least throw a party for you?” Kevin asked, eyes pleading. Jughead and Betty looked at each other, before turning back to Kevin.

“NO PARTIES!” they shouted in unison. 

“Yeah, what happened last time was a little fucked. Plus, Jug hates parties.” Archie weighed in. 

“Thank you.” Jughead exhaled, annoyed that his wife’s friend would even suggest that. 

“We’ll do a dinner.” Veronica declared, in a way that brooked no discussion. Which was her usual way, Betty chuckled to herself. Jughead looked unconvinced.

It’ll be just us, “ Veronica continued, trying to assuage the uncomfortable boy “and your dad, Betty’s mom, and Polly, of course.”

“Do we remember the last time Mr. Jones and Mrs. Cooper were in the same room?” Kevin asked, Betty, too, was skeptical of the idea of Alice and F.P. being able to stay away from each others throats for a whole dinner. Especially not after what happened last time. 

“We don’t have to celebrate. It doesn’t seem like they really want to.” Archie’s awkwardness may as well have been written across his forehead with how obvious it was. 

“We’ll figure something out.” Betty shrugged,as the bell finally ended the interrogation. 


Four days and six hours later, Betty tugged at the zipper on the back of her soft burgundy dress. She huffed in frustration at the stuck zipper.

“Want help? Jughead’s amused voice rumbled from the bed behind her. 

Her annoyance caused a growl to pull from her throat. Her fingers were soon replaced by his soft long ones as her husband smoothly brought the zipper to the top of its track. 

“Thanks.” she turned to smile softly at him, before their gazes were yanked from each other by a single rap at their bedroom door. 

Jughead opened the door, revealing his clean cut, sharply dressed father. 

“You look stunning, Betty. “ her father in law smiled brightly

“I would tend to agree.” Jughead’s face matched that of his old man, showing a resemblance that no one could have recognized mere months ago. 

“Ready to go, daughter-in-law?” F.P. graciously offered his arm, which pulled an eye roll from his son. Betty placed her arm in his. They walked like that all the way to F.P.’s beat up car. Before he could open the door, she spoke.

“Thank you.” Betty said simply, not looking to meet the older man’s eyes. 

“You’ve done far more for me. Besides, we’re family now.” Her eyes finally rose to meet his. 

“We’re family now.” she repeated, a small smile gracing her face. 


Originally posted by trainwreqk

Characters: Kenny Omega x OFC

Summary: OFC and Kenny used to be together before she left a couple of years ago to WWE. She goes to Japan to catch his WK11 match against Okada and it stirs up some old feelings and does a few things that potentially ruin her.

Warnings: None, it’s just angsty and super long.

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I finished Yusuke’s Confidant and having romanced Ann I can say with all confidence that Yusuke’s route is more romantic.

I love Ann to death. A lot of her route is about her worries about inspiring others the way others have her, and how she can achieve that in life with the things she does. The MC supports her and becomes someone she wants to bring strength to through her work, and it’s really cute but then Yusuke…

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anonymous asked:

I'm fucking laughing because in my mind the next thing Angus knows is that he just wakes up on the fucking Moon because he was asleep and they couldn't just leave the kid unattended. There's a lot of screaming because the THB's brought a literal child to the moon What the fuck. Taako or Magnus probably shushes them because the kid is asleep and Humans need that shit.

I write one little post about Angus picking up the Oculus and suddenly an AU happens okay fine let’s roll with it.

The Director, slumped heavily on her throne, gaped at the three that were somehow her star reclaimers. “I have. So many questions,” she raised her hand to halt all of them from speaking at once. “One at a time, please. Magnus, I just know I’m going to regret this, but unfortunately I am incapable of asking anything besides: why do you have a child?”

Magnus held up a small boy made smaller by the heavily muscled arms he was curled in. “This is Angus!”

“The pleasure is all mine now why is he here.”

“We couldn’t just leave him unconscious on the side of the train tracks, Director!” Magnus protested, as if somehow she had suggested it. “Can we keep him?”

“Do…do you think he’s a dog? Is this revenge for the Bureau’s policy of animals on the moon? It is, isn’t it.”

“I promise to take care of him! I’ll feed him and take him on walkies and play with him on the quad and everything!”

“Aaaand the prophecy has been fulfilled.” The Director sighed and turned to address the Reclaimers’ cleric cleaning…something out of his ear. “Merle: could you not do that please and explain what transpired on the surface?

He flicked the…something away (The Director shuddered from a distant memory of a small ship and very close quarters) and adjusted his belt like a small-town lawyer about to present a spellproof case made of witty country aphorisms. “Well, Director- like you ordered- when we got down to Rockport, we went undercover at the train station.” He cleared his throat and…oh gods, starting speaking in a horrid and unconvincing Scottish accent. “Ai cleverlee prasented ma-self as Leeman Kessler-”

Hiding somewhere behind Magnus, Taako shrieked. “OH GOD IT’S BACK.”

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You know what I like a lot? The thought that Dean can just tug Cas anywhere at any time and Cas, who can lift tons without effort, who can demolish things with the light of his grace, who has battled and gone to war, has defended and broken, who is a skyscraper worth of power packed into a human suit, will just let Dean do it. Pretty sure it spawns from 05.03 where Dean just tugs his coat open, places his ID in there, then steps into his space and scoots his tie into order.

Then we got 08.10 when they’re in the last moments of whipping demon ass and Cas has gotten Samandriel out of the torture gear and Dean doesn’t have to look up, really, he knows that when he barks at Cas to go, Cas will be gone like yesterday.

I know I’ve already said this (in fic, at least) but I want to see Dean tugging Cas around by his coatsleeves and plucking at his jacket and Cas just comes, in a way he wouldn’t for anyone else. Almost as smoothly, as effortlessly as if the real challenge were keeping himself from following in the first place. Like his body wants to go where Dean does.

Dean and Cas in line for fast food, Cas studiously inspecting the light boards above the register and, as the line moves forward, Dean just takes Cas’s sleeve between two fingers and draws him (this angel, packed full of light and horror, all-powerful, an embodiment of creation, capable of absolute annihilation) through the corral with the lightest touch. Castiel’s eyes stay on the light board until Dean asks what he wants and he drops his eyes to connect, says with complete determination, “I want to try a Choco Taco.”

Dean pulls up his hand and places a quarter in Cas’s palm, has him drop it in the free entree tank (idk if Taco Bell even has those anymore, but whatev). Cas carefully analyzes the tank for the proper angle, factors in the movement of the water, the weight of the coin, the type of metal it contains judging by production year, and the probability that the coin might slide off of others on his chosen platform. He drops it perfectly and they get a free burrito.

There’s this pat on his back, and a pleased tilt to Dean’s mouth which means he enjoyed that very much. Cas lets his own pleased smile slide into place.

Dean decides to have him hold on to the change, bundles it in the receipt paper and says he can drop more coins in if he comes up to order more.

He picks through the coins and places them in his pocket as he follows Dean to the drinks machine. Every time Dean moves, his elbow pushes into Cas’s stomach because he sticks so close, but Dean doesn’t have him back off, hasn’t asked him to in a long time. That’s just who Cas is, Mr. Inside The Bubble.

He shows him the best way to mix the regular Dew and the Baja Blast and has him take a sip to prove how awesome it is. Cas’s face screws up thoughtfully, but he doesn’t comment otherwise. Dean takes that for it being just as awesome as he’d proclaimed.

Cas stays close at the condiment counter, too, so Dean looks over his shoulder to make sure nobody’s looking before he grabs handfuls of sauce packets and stuffs ‘em in Cas’s trench coat pockets.

“Hold these for me. I’m gonna use 'em on my eggs tomorrow morning, it’ll drive Sam nuts. He thinks they’re gross.”

He gets a booth and touches the back of Cas’s arm, barely a push, so Cas will know to sit across from him. It’s the same when he’s ready to go, he stands over the side of the table, sucking his drink through a straw and he reaches down to grab at Cas’s jacket, give it one tug so he follows.

Dean likes to direct with touch, and the more Cas lets him, the handsier he gets. A palm lightly on the small of Cas’s back as they enter a police station and he ushers him through the door. Grabbing Cas’s pocket and hauling him close to whisper in his ear that he thinks something’s not right with the witness. A tapping driving Dean nuts as they creep through a state library at night. He thinks someone’s following them at first, but it’s actually the ends of Cas’s shoelace that’s come untied clicking against the tile floor. He tugs Cas into a corner and drops down real quick to tie his shoe, pats his calf as he rises and whispers, “look out or next time you’ll trip and hurt yourself.” Though Cas could hardly mortally wound himself from tripping, he’s touched that Dean would care to warn him.

Cas being stubborn one day and wanting to walk off and look for his own evidence, but Dean actually reaches for his tie, grabs it, yanks him to a halt.

His eyes narrow and he does stop, but only to rip the end of his tie out of Dean’s hand.

Dean starts to stutter out, “Too far, right, too far, sorry, Cas, sorry, but we can’t just spl–”

Cas rolls his eyes, reaches out and grabs Dean’s hand. His unshakable, angelic grip means that Dean can’t untangle their fingers until he figures out to ask nicely. Only, by then, they’re being stalked to the edge of the crime scene and he reaches for Cas’s hand again and presses them both behind a tree.

They’re out there for a while, in the cold, accidentally weaponless and unsure who they’re up against or he thinks Cas would maybe just level them with his light whammy or whatever. It’s so cold. He only releases Cas’s hand to open the front of his trench coat and step inside. Cas pulls the coat around them both and holds Dean close, safe inside of it.

anonymous asked:

I've followed your blog only recently, but I really enjoy your metas (although I couldn't read much of them due to my tight time schedules). Maybe you have answered it in one way or another, but can you explain to me why Furuta manipulated Ui into... "cooperating" with him? He could have simply murdered him or he could have orchestrated a mission where he would die off for good. Since most of his aquaintances are dead, Ui has little to no emotional ties with the rest of the CCG and its members

so people would have been mostly wary of his death at worst. Or is Ui regarded that highly that it’s probably better to keep him alive? I am not good at critical thinking, so I apologise for that, but I just don’t understand why Furuta didn’t think twice trying to kill Urie, but he bribes Ui into staying at his side instead. Considering Urie’s importance as a Quinx, thus being a revolutionary experiment, and Ui, who is admittely incredibly skilled and respected, Urie would be much more important

I would argue (especially for Kanou, even if he had Shirazu’s body as as an introduction for the Quinx’ biology). And why is Ui the only one Furuta didn’t try to mercilessly taunt and kill like the rest of his CCG collegues? Sorry for bothering you, I would love to hear some input from your part. And thanks for having so much patience.

Oooh yes this is actually something I’ve put a lot of thought into so don’t worry about bugging me I’m pretty excited to answer a question like this anon. To preface this though before I start typing it up, I have a lot of thoughts on this subject so it might get a bit rambly. So i’m breaking it into parts. 

(1) - Story Reasons

The Ui and Furuta relationship is actually something that has been set up for a long time coming. Tokyo Ghoul is kind of messy at times, but if you look back to the work as a whole it’s a bit amazing how many things that were set up as far back as the Rose arc are paying off now. Ui was technically introduced before Furuta, but the first arc that they were given prominence was shared together. 

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anonymous asked:

Ah, this is so embarrassing to admit but I started crying whilst reading your last scenario with bakugou & Izuku. I can't say I'm the same boat, (quite the opposite actually, being a latina but looking the exact opposite.) but just??? I don't even know why, despite the fact I couldn't personally relate it just invoked a feeling of my that was indescribable?? Despite the fact that I may not have tanned skin, or afro/curled hair I do happen to be a very self conscious person and reading that (pt 1

Made me so so happy? It was weird to feel my wet cheeks after reading it, but like, in a good way. Just imagining myself in a scenario in which I tell them about my insecurities and them being very kind and raw with their words at the same time just sent me over the moon.  I don’t think I can recall another instance in which a writing actually made me sob. And just oh my lordie you’re so good???? and just thank you so so so much for writing that. pt 2

That being said, would it be okay if I requested scenarios with Bakugou, Todoroki, and Izuku (I’m sorry, I don’t know your person limit, if it’s 2 then just bakugou and Todoroki) with an s/o that feels invalid because they don’t fit into the stereotype of their ethnicity. A while ago I was told by someone who was dear to me, that because I couldn’t speak spanish  nor did I look like a latina I couldn’t call myself one and I’ve been extremely self conscious of that since. hah sorry for the length             

Hello lovely and I very much apologize that it took me this long to get your request back to you. First of all, thank you so, so very much for letting me know about all of this, thank you, truly. I can barely put into words how touched I am and how much I wish to wrap you into soft and good things. I very, very much hope that I could write your request well enough and that it is at least somewhat what you hoped for. I wish you all the best lovely, all the love and good fortune shall come your way and, if I may say that: Sometimes the people closest to us say the things that hurt us the most. It doesn’t mean they are right, not at all. You are you and nothing about you is wrong and what you love, what you identify as, what lives in your heart, that is truly you and nothing can change that, no one can take that away. It is true and it is and it’s you.


When his partner tells him why they have been more self-conscious and worried lately, he sits down with them to talk about it.

“I don’t give a single fuck what other people think.” He says seriously and gently takes their hands in his, giving them ample time and keeping the grip loose enough that they can pull away if they don’t want any touch right now. “You are you and I love you. No one but you decides who you are or how you feel. Other people don’t live in your body, they don’t know your fucking mind, they don’t get to decide jack shit.”

He shuffles a bit closer, lightly bumping their knees together. “I love you.” He says, frowning and sincere. “If other people can’t accept you the way you are, that is their fucking problem.”

Reaching up with one hand, he gently rubs a calloused thumb along their cheek. “No one, no fucking one, gets to decide anything about you. Only you decide anything. Be who you are, I have your back.” He presses a soft, warm kiss against their forehead. “I’m fucking proud of you and happy to be with you, nothing changes that.


He frowns a little when his partner tells him what happened and how they’re feeling. Once they finish, he gently takes their hand in his, rubbing a soothing thumb over the back of their hand.

“I think that this person is wrong.” He says, voice quiet and sure. Todoroki holds their gaze, serious and honest. “You are you and no one has the right to tell you differently. No one has the right to decide how you feel or what you identify with or what makes you feel at home.”

He reaches up with his free hand to gently brush along a strand of their hair and he rests his hand against their cheek. “Only you know how you feel and how you think. You are the one who can decide anything when it comes to yourself.”

He brushes a kiss against their forehead. “I love you and I am proud of you. You are wonderful and I hope you know that.” Todoroki gives their hand a soft, reassuring squeeze. “You can always count on me, I will support you in this and everything else. You are who you are and I love you for it.”


He feels a small frown pulling at his brows and gently takes his partner’s hand. Midoriya moves a bit closer when their fingers curl around his and he softly presses their legs together.

“I love you.” He says and gives their hand a small squeeze. His gaze is sincere and open, warm and direct. “All of you and who you are. You decide who you are and where you belong. No one has the right to take that away from you, nor can they truly take what you wish to keep.”

He brushes their shoulders together and he wraps his free arm around them when his love sways into the touch. For a moment, he just holds them, thinking over what to say and giving them support, before he lifts the hand in his to kiss their knuckles.

“Don’t let anyone decide any of these things for you.” He says quietly, gently and firmly. “Only you know how you feel and what it is that makes you happy, what you know deep in your heart to be true, what is part of yourself. And that is you, all of it and no one can take that away. I love you for every single part that you are and I will always have your back.” He rests his forehead against theirs. “You decide, not anyone else and I believe in you.”

lone-woof-peggy  asked:

okay, challenge time. thoughts on sami/dean/finn. i want DETAILS.

this is…….a cursed ask peggy.

putting it under a read more bc this got very very long!!

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anonymous asked:

tbh, I think the list scene was more about Bellamy and Clarke acknowledging their guilt and self-loathing than it being about not being able to live without the other. Bellamy hates himself enough that he flat out doesn't believe he should be on the list and Clarke couldn't even write her name down. Do you think it's a shipper interpretation to see the List scene being about them refusing to live without the other?

((I got the ages ago and never replied for whatever reason, but I’ll give it a shot today.))

The List Scene

That’s a pretty layered question, anon, and I’m gonna try to unpack it in a couple different ways. First let’s go with your opinion that the list scene is about their own self-loathing, being unable to put themselves on the list so they put each other. I think this is definitely the major thrust of the scene–particularly for Clarke. Bellamy accepts without argument that she wrote him down–in a way he probably was prepared for that because of her insistence in the earlier scene. He is willing to accept it if Clarke makes it so, because he trusts her. Clarke, for herself, CAN’T write her name because she feels so strongly that she’s taking away a seat from a more worthy person. But doing the list is her task, and she _wants_ to live. That’s why her guilt and conflict is so intense here, you can see she was listening to people work outside and looking at Bellamy (who in this moment is a symbol of her future with her loved ones if she writes her name). All of that is compounded and it breaks her heart, because she believes she’s not worthy, yet she wants to live. But also her wanting to live at the expense of others surely must be a selfish choice, thereby making her even more unworthy and creating a negative feedback loop.

Bellamy steps in then and does what she already did for him–he unburdens her. He makes the choice so that she doesn’t have to, going as far as taking the tool and completing the task on her behalf. It’s not a power thing, it’s a gift of emotional mercy. He is returning the gift she gave him by writing his name. It’s every bit as dramatic and magnetic as the choice to pull the lever together in Mount Weather. At that time, he was sharing the load she was determined but terrified to take on. In 403, they both take on the burden for each other. This lets them excuse each other from that final step of guilt–from the outside it probably looks selfish, like they’re just saving each other. And they ARE!  We know that because someone in the crowd called out as much in 404, asking why Bellamy was listed. So this was a mutually selfish act as much as mutually generous. But…they’re human, and this is a terrible thing Clarke has been asked to do. 

Fumbling through that pain and shame together is the best they can do, and it’s hard to condemn Clarke or Bellamy for wanting each other to live, or for wanting to live themselves. Especially on The 100, it’s a motive we all understand. The fact that Clarke and Bellamy both need outside validation that they still deserve to live is incredibly tragic and unfair. Life is a right.

That feeds me into my next point which is about not wanting to live without each other. This is tough because with two characters as emotionally entrenched as bellarke are, how do we draw the line between “he insists she must live” and “he can’t imagine a future without her in it”? Whoevers name goes first and the question becomes moot for the next. Clarke writes down Bellamy’s name because she sincerely believes that a) he deserves to live, b) he is of great necessary value to the group, and c) she cannot bear the idea of him not getting to live. Then its Bellamy’s turn and all those a, b, and c reasons stand for Clarke’s case too. He thinks she is worthy and he cannot tolerate a situation where she dies. Not because he needs her for his own happiness, but because he wants her to LIVE. Him being in the picture is valuable in as much as it gives him grounds to insist that she lives. They both use their influence to save the other.

We see this same scenario play out in 411. Clarke arranges for Bellamy to be kidnapped and taken inside the bunker (on the list). When he pushes her to open the doors, Clarke knows she can save her mom, herself, and all their other friends and loved ones but three people (3 out of 500, and 1 likely dead already). Clarke can tolerate the other two dead people being Kane and Octavia but she can’t handle if it means the third person who has to die for their safety is Bellamy. The person she prioritizes, the person she trusts, the person she loves. His death is a price she can’t pay, so she gives up and lets him decide.

As the grounders take back the bunker in 411/412, we see this again, where Bellamy assures Abby that no matter what he’ll make sure Clarke is safe inside the bunker once Octavia takes control. At this point, Clarke must have low expectation that she will make it through even if there’s a peaceful transition. Luckily the bloodbath she feared doesn’t happen. But Abby, and Bellamy are of course going to ensure she has a place. Because–this literally is not news–they love her. That’s not a shipping statement that is a reality of the characters. Bellamy’s love for Clarke is just as powerful as Abby’s love for her, or as his love​ for Octavia. Clarke’s love for Bellamy is a powerful as her love for Abby, or she would have taken that kill shot. Clarke and Bellamy are at a point now that to let their family member die or to let each other die is a zero sum game. They are both deeply and profoundly loved and it’s trust that saves them… Clarke decides it’s better to trust Bellamy’s call than to lose him because of fear.

So… I’ve wandered off topic, let’s bring it home. Yes, they both believe they don’t deserve to live. Yes, they both believe the other does and will fight for it, even letting that believe in each other outweigh their doubt in themselves. The big question then: is that the same as being unwilling to live without each other? It almost feels like we’re blurring the source vs the symptoms. The cause vs the consequences. When it comes down to it, I think Clarke’s love and Bellamy’s love are pure, unselfish loves. Bellamy is fine being off the list bc he’s confident she will be on it (as will his sister.) Clarke writes his name confidently because she wants him to have a future regardless of where she ends up (oh, that’s some for shadowing for the finale maybe). The love and faith that drives each of them to write down their names is unselfish—but the desire to also stay, to prioritize themselves, that’s the part where wanting a future with the other person comes in. And it’s there, in the wings… that hope of future with someone you love.

 Ultimately I don’t know if their choice in the list scene is  about worthiness or about love–i think it’s both. I think the two topics are so deeply entwined in Clarke and Bellamy’s approach to relationships–with each other and with themselves–that trying to parse all that is ultimately fruitless. Their refusing to live without each other is a consequence of them both being intolerant of a world where the other doesn’t get to survive. Love is unarguably at the root of both.

Shipper Interpretation

There’s one final part about your reply that I wanted to talk about. See beneath the cut…  

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Couldn’t Endure - part five

[part one] [part two] [part three] [part four]

Ryuji groaned, the sound muffled, and attempted a blind swat at whatever it was that tapped at his cheek. The annoyance disappeared and Ryuji relaxed into the slumber that almost eluded him. He reached it, only to have it ripped away again when the tapping returned with a vengeance. “What the hell…!” He shot up, glaring sleepily around the familiar room.

Akira made a loud noise of protest after being rudely jostled, dragging a hand down his face as he mumbled incoherently.

Morgana sat proudly in Ryuji’s lap, paw raised for another attack. “It’s time to wake up.”

“…no school,” Akira moaned. Today was the last day of Summer Break. He smiled sleepily as he realized he was on the verge of developing a summer romance.

“You have to have your talk today and we all need to eat. Downstairs, now. Boss is waiting.” Morgana prodded Ryuji in the stomach, jumping away when a hand swatted at him. When he stopped, and looked, Ryuji was still on autopilot, if his closed eyes were anything to go by. Akira was no better. He was turned onto his side, face buried in Ryuji’s clothed hip, arm trying to worm its way back to its original position around Ryuji’s waist. 

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vevehoshizora  asked:

If you may, I would like a Alex x Reader fic where the reader is Kara's best friend and a fellow superhero (powers or no powers, as you prefer), and she gets badly injured at some point and just Alex being scared as hell and not wanting the reader to die. (They're not in a relation, but bonus points if they get together at the end. :P) PS: Omg, that went on forever, sorry.

Alex x reader

A/N: I honestly love this request and I couldn’t wait to write it 

13. Alex x reader 

“Kara, Y/N, Winn says there’s an alien attack over on Main Street. So suit up, cause you have to leave, like right now.” Alex said, walking into the training room. 

You and Kara smirk at each other and quickly change into your suits. You’d been best friends with Kara since the sixth grade when she found out that you were from Krypton as well. You were the first person, outside of her family, that she could be real with and now, you couldn't imagine life without each other.

You and Kara flew to the scene and you saw the chaos immediately.  The aliens had torn apart the gravel on the ground and were starting to pick up larger things, like street lamps and parking meters. There were three of them, so Kara and you were outnumbered, but you weren’t worried. 

Kara took one alien, you took another one, and you decided to take the third one together. You had easily defeated your alien, so you decided to just finish off the third alien while Kara fought her first one. Big mistake. This alien, though he looked the same, was way stronger. You used a lot of heat vision to distract him, then all of your super strength to knock him over, leaving him unconscious. He wasn’t the only one who was knocked out, though. You had burnt out all your powers, which sent you crashing into the ground and you were unconscious as well. 

Kara noticed right away. She defeated the alien she was fighting and called J’onn for help immediately. She picked you up and flew you back to the DEO, where Alex met her right by the entrance. They immediately started walking you back to the medical room.

“What the hell happened?” Alex asked, not even trying to hide her concern for you.

“She burnt her powers out fighting two aliens…” Kara replied as she set you down on the bed with the yellow sun lamp. 

“I should’ve helped her… I should’ve been paying more attention.” Kars started to cry as she looked down at you on the bed. 

“No, there wasn’t anything you could’ve done, Kar.. Why don’t you go home and get some rest, and you’ll get to see Y/N when she’s awake tomorrow.” 

Kara reluctantly agreed, giving her sister a hug before she left the DEO. 

Alex took a seat beside your bed, watching you as you laid there. You were like a second sister to both of the Danvers’ girls. If anything were to happen to you, they’d both be devastated. She sat by your bed, even as the other employees were leaving. She had to be there when you woke up. 

You were out for five hours before you finally woke up, you still didn’t feel great, but at least you were awake. Alex lifted her head up as soon as soon as she felt you move. 

“Y/N! Thank God you’re ok! You scared the shit out of everyone.” Alex sighs, leaning forward to give you a small hug. “What were you thinking, burning yourself out like that?” 

“I was thinking that I wanted to take care of those bitches, and I did, so mission accomplished.” 

Alex chuckled, shaking her head. “You really are fearless, aren’t you?”

“No, no not at all. I’m afraid of plenty of things.” You argue.

‘’Like what?” Alex challenges with the raise of an eyebrow. “Actually, now that I think about it, I can answer that. You’re afraid of the feelings you have for Kara.” 

Her statement had taken you by surprise, “I-I don’t like Kara. Not like that.” You protest, shaking your head. You felt a blush creep onto your cheeks.

“I see you blushing, Y/L/N. Don’t worry, I won’t tell her.” 

Your heart was racing and your face got hotter and hotter, you weren’t really sure why you let the truth slip out, but you did. “No! Alex, I’m really not interested in Kara. I’m interested in you!” 

Alex freezes and you regret every word you’d spoken. “You… You like me?” Alex repeated.

You nod, trying not to meet Alex’s eyes. “I have for awhile…” 

“I have too..” 

Your head snaps up, you couldn’t believe what you’d heard. You didn’t know what to do, so you just wrapped your arms around Alex’s neck and pull her in for a kiss. 

By the time you pull away, you’re both out of breath and smiling like idiots. 

“That was….” Alex says, catching her breath.

“Yeah.” You pant with a giggle. 

“Maybe.. when you’re better, we could go out sometime?” Alex asks, taking your hand.

“I’d love to, Danvers.” You say with a smile. 

This is kinda a mess and I didn’t know how I wanted to end it, but here it is lol 

anonymous asked:

Hey there! I couldn't see anything about it in the rules but would you do a small drabble of HC's, whichever you feel is better, about Hanzo's reaction to a female reader who was beaten and sexually assaulted by her first ever partner which put her off relationships until she met Hanzo? Obviously, this is personal to me but I understand if it makes you uncomfortable and I wouldn't be upset if you didn't want to write it! Thanks and have a good day! ^.^

I have no problem writing anything for this, so no worries! I hope these are good enough and I’m sorry to hear you had to go through something like that. I hope you are no longer in the same situation and are feeling better. Also, if there is anything incorrect with these, please tell me! Have a good day as well~

- He noticed that there was something wrong with you, seeing the way you acted around others and especially him. He was afraid that he was doing something wrong, as you continually seemed to reject his presence and his advances towards you. Unaware that you did it out of self-defense, fearing he might hurt you like the person you previously were spending your time with. Even though you knew that every person was different, you couldn’t take any chances into letting your guard down, as the archer looked quite intimidating. Deep down however, you knew he probably meant no harm, but you didn’t know how to approach him yourself about that either.

- Hanzo had noticed your beauty and gentle soul a long time ago, seemingly wanting to get closer to you and even more so as he could see that you were struggling with something. Not liking to see the object of his affections suffering from something. He did not want to cause you any discomfort either, but feared that you may be afraid of him personally because of what he had done in the past. He at least wanted to know it from you in person if that were truly the case, or clear up any misunderstandings if it wasn’t and went straight up to you once he saw you sitting at the table in the mess hall. You were surprised to hear that Hanzo was worried about having possibly scared you and you quickly reassured him that it was not the case at all, head shaking at your own anxiety. The two of you decided to talk things out in that moment, seeing as it was the perfect opportunity to explain one’s doubts to one another.

- The archer was shocked to discover that someone could be as cruel as to hurt such an innocent being like you. With such dishonorable acts even. He would be lying if he said it didn’t make his blood boil and he made a mental note to possibly find the person who did that to you after your conversation. Giving them their well-deserved punishment. He vowed to himself to treat you with the respect you deserved and told you that you were worthy of the utmost love and attention and that you shouldn’t mind such a pathetic fool. He had no right to be on your mind in any way. You smiled at his kindness towards you, noticing the stoic marksman was actually quite benevolent, maybe a bit on the awkward side too, but that somehow gave you a feeling of comfort. After the two of you had cleared things up between each other, Hanzo took the opportunity to ask you out for a lovely dinner and you happily obliged, knowing you are well protected in his care. You had to be honest, that you liked the Japanese male as well, but your insecurities of your past relationship always had to get in the way of talking to him. You were happy he was able to take the first step instead.

- You hadn’t felt such safety in a long time as you were spending time with Hanzo. Gradually growing more used to have a romantic interest again. You felt like you could trust him, his deep voice being a soothing sound to your ears and the respective distance he put between you two, as he did not want to cross any boundaries, making you feel secure. He was a true gentleman, that was for certain. The date went very well for the both of you and you were both elated to learn from each other that you wanted to spend more time together, the relationship quickly blossoming into something more. Hanzo always made sure to remind you every day of how stunning you looked, feminine beauty radiating off of you wherever you went and in whatever you would wear. He always thought you looked mystical and he couldn’t help feeling blessed to have you at his side, as he was convinced that no other person could have a pure heart like yours. Hanzo was also there for you as your support, whenever you were feeling insecure about your past relationship. With his fear of not wanting to cross any of your boundaries however, he would ask you how he could provide you with the best support before acting first. Promising you he will always be patient, no matter what your request would be, respecting your decision at the same time.

- If you needed space, he would give it to you, of course with regular check-ups on your well-being. If it was physical comfort you wanted, he’d be there in an instant, gently holding you close while making sure you had enough freedom to retract yourself from his embrace if it was making you uncomfortable. He knew that you could react sensitive at times, as your previous relationship had left scars on your heart and thus he was very careful with initiating physical contact around you in the beginning. He would often ask you if it was alright to hold you or kiss you as well, not risking anything and wanting the best for you. This was one of the big reasons why you loved Hanzo so much, as no person had ever held your needs as high as he did. He was the only person who could get you to open up again to someone without feeling incredibly nervous or afraid of getting hurt in the same way as before. In that sense, his stern and strict personality was a relief, as the man was simply too serious to cause people such harm or manipulate them. You would often reassure him by telling him it was not always necessary to ask if he was allowed to initiate something, as you trusted him greatly and appreciated his many efforts into making you feel comfortable and safe. Hanzo however, insisted on questioning you, not making any exceptions in his care for you. You couldn’t help but nuzzle your face into his chest as a silent ‘thank you’ for his reassurance, Hanzo murmuring words of comfort into your hair as a response. He’d kiss your nose afterwards, while gingerly trying to get you to open up about why you were feeling distressed that moment, not pushing anything of course.

- You like to situate yourself often between his legs, as he holds you close to his chest from behind. It’s a protective embrace and once you told him, the archer gave you an amused chuckle while he peppered your neck and face in kisses as you comfortably sat in his lap, giggling in response. He uses many names of endearment for you, often using them more in comparison to your full name. He wants you to know that you are loved and important to him and will not hesitate to express that to you, doing it every day with the many gestures he has for you. From accompanying you to wherever you wanted to go, to giving you a whole body massage after a stressful day, it is never too much for Hanzo Shimada and his acts of love for you. Braiding your hair was another thing he loved to do for you and you found it very calming as well. It was almost a form of therapy, the way his calloused fingers felt against your scalp while they glided through your silky tresses. It truly was a wonderful feeling and brought you two ever the closer together. You loved to do the same for him as well, as his hair felt incredibly soft and you often asked what his secret was, the archer only giving you a hum in return, too concentrated on the movements of your fingers, loving the sensation just as much as you did.

You honestly could never wish for anything more, as Hanzo seemed to be guiding you through the path of recovery every day and you in turn helped him with his. You balanced each other out and gave each other strength, which in itself is a beautiful thing.

  • fallout loadscreens: u should periodically clean out your inventory so you don't get over encumbered!
  • me, carrying 40lbs of nuka cola, 3 different swords because I couldn't decide which one was the coolest, enough desk fans to stock several office buildings, some hats I thought were cool, and just a whole bunch of fucking eggs: no
  • my companions, carrying 28 different 10mm pistols and 3 flamethrowers: please
Star-Lord’s Journal

Day 40: AGH!!!! Gamora drives me so crazy!!! I like her so much and I don’t know why!!!!!! We’ve got this weird thing going on where we argue a lot but still…get each other? I think I told her about David Hasselhoff when I was drunk the other day? And now she’s a little nicer to me because of it…the tension is CRAZY!!!

She catches herself just in time before bursting out with a laugh at his writing, so she doesn’t wake him up.

(Alternatively, the one where Gamora can’t help herself and skims through Peter’s journal, looking back on the beginning of their relationship.)

Starmora Week 2017, Day 7: Unspoken

(read on ao3 or ffn) // (read prev. starmora week 2017 works here!!)

Gamora wakes up with a shiver, trying to pull her blanket more tightly around her shoulders. She takes in her surroundings for a moment; she’s in her bed with Peter, though all of the blankets are wrapped around her (admittedly, this is usual; she can’t help that she gets cold easily) and he’s not actually lying down with her. She then realizes she’s not even sleeping on a pillow, but Peter’s lap, and when she looks up at his form slumped back against the wall adjacent to their bed, he’s snoring softly.

She shifts a little, causing his hand to slide down her arm. Over the soft sounds of the distant machinery in the Milano, the horrifyingly heavy rain outside makes itself apparent, filling Gamora’s ears quickly. She sighs, settling her head back on Peter’s thigh. The downpour had started while they were in the middle of their errands that day, and once Gamora had finished getting what she needed with Peter, they decided to return to the Milano to get out of the crazy weather while the rest of the team finished their own errands.

Thanks to her body mods, she doesn’t really get sick, but she’s never been particularly good in low temperatures, especially when moisture is involved. Sure, she can handle it enough to get whatever job she’s tasked with done with no complaints, but it’ll take her a little longer to warm up afterward than other species—even Terrans.

(Peter likes to hold it over her. She pretends to hate him for it until he offers up all of their blankets to her; then, he is suddenly not completely insufferable.)

Somehow returning to the Milano to dry off—they’d been soaked enough that her hair stuck to her face while Peter’s hair turned a much darker shade all together—turned into cuddling in bed, which quickly turned into sleeping.

She considers grabbing her comms to check in with the others, because she’s not really sure how much time has passed, but when she hears Rocket yell from the other side of the ship, followed by Mantis shushing him, well, that answers that. She then debates waking Peter to let him know they’re clear to leave, but even just another glance up at his face drowns the willpower from her. He’s sleeping a little too nicely for someone who’s sitting up, in her opinion, but her attention is then grabbed by something else.

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