nowhere near okay

The Little Brit, Part 2 | Jughead Jones x Reader

Originally posted by lodges-veronica

Originally posted by stydiaislove

  Part 1

I wake up, the smile’s still on my face from last nights encounter.

“(Y/N),” I hear mum shout from downstairs.

“I’m up,” I yell back stretching out my arms before throwing my covers off my body and heading down to greet my parents and grab something to eat. “Excited for your first day?” my mum asks putting a plate of bacon and eggs in front of me.

“Nervous. I met a few other kids in my year at the diner last night, they seemed really nice.” She clasps her hands together.

“Oh, sweetie that’s lovely!”

    I shrug hoping she was right finishing up with my breakfast before continuing to get ready for school. I was used to wearing a uniform back home so being able to wear whatever to school was a weird concept for me to grasp as I stand infront of my wardrobe, clothes littering my bedroom floor. I huff to myself glancing at the clock. 10 minutes before I have to start my walk to school and I’m nowhere near ready. 

“You okay sweetie?” my mum asks from my door. I nod throwing together and outfit.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m going to head in early to get my timetable.“ She smiles hugging me briefly before bidding goodbye as she heads into work. I grab my bag and rush down the steps walking toward school. 

    As i get closer to the school I glance around to see other kids loitering out front, all in small groups, all seemed to be caught up in their own conversation to see me nervously wonder through trying to locate the front office. 

“(Y/N),” I turn to see Betty waving from across the hall weaving her way through the crowd till she reached me.

“Hey,” I smile warmly adjusting my bag on my shoulder.

“I’m actually showing you around today- I already got your schedule,“ I breathe a sigh of relief.

 “Thank you.” The bell rings loudly.

“I’ll walk you to your first class and then we can meet up at lunch. You can seat with me and the gang.” I smile. 

“Thank you so much.” She throws her arm around my shoulder and gives me a small squeeze.

“You’re very welcome!” 


    The lunch bells rings and I breathe a sigh of relief slipping my books into my bag and heading toward the school yard, my eyes scanning for Betty and Veronica. My palms grow sweaty as I struggle to find the blonde and raven haired girls, my heart rate starts to grow and I consider turning around and finding somewhere else to eat when someone whistles catching my attention.

“Little Brit!” I turn and see Veronica standing up from her seat waving me over. I smile and walk over sitting inbetween the two girls.

“Gosh i thought I was never going to find you guys!” I giggle. 

“How’s class been so far?” I nod noticing Archie, Jughead & an unfamiliar boy approach the table taking their seats.

“It’s actually been really good, easier than I thought- Besides the whole having to introduce yourself every lesson. I swear teachers do it just to torture us!“ I breathe out realising I was mumbling.“I’m thinking of trying out for a slot in the music class, I’ve heard that the music teacher here is really good. She does private classes? Isn’t that right Archie?” He chokes on his lunch and goes red in the face. The whole group looks at me with a shock expression.

“What?” I laugh innocently glancing over to Jughead who looks lost. “Miss Grundy told me she was helping you with songwriting, was I mistaking?” He clears his throat and shakes his head. 

“Oh, right, yeah, she’s been helping me a lot actually- with the song writing, yeah…” I laugh at his sudden change in mood. 

“Anyways I heard Betty that you run the “Blue & Gold”. I was wondering if I was able to help? I wrote back home for my school newsletter and I thought I could help you reboot the paper.“ She smiles.

“That would be awesome! Jug and I have been working a lot lately with the paper, right Jug?” We all turn to face him only for him to be staring right at me. I go red and Archie nudges Jughead with his elbow.

“Juggie,“ Betty pesters. He jolts upright fixing his beanie, his eyes darting to us all.

“Yo,” I laugh and look at the others. “Did you not hear anything Betty and I were saying?” He laughs awkwardly under his breath scratching the back of his neck.

“I swear I was listening I just-”

“Got lost in her voice,” Veronica teases making him go red.

“I just.. um… I have… um… you know what nevermind,“ he rambles pushing his food around the tray. 

“I was talking to Betty about the Blue & Gold.” He nods.

“Yeah we run it. You can… um… are you… did you want to help us?” he finally gets out looking toward me smiling sweetly.

“It’d be an honour Jug. I’d be more than happy to help you and B out.” He smiles. 

“Why don’t the three of us go to Pop’s after chool and talk more about the paper?“ I suggest. 

“Oh, I’m sorry but I have plans today,” Betty replies.

“Okay, maybe just me and you Jug?” He almost spits out the juice in his mouth glancing to Archie with wide eyes.

“Of course!” He almost shouts. “I mean, yeah, of course, I’ll bring my laptop and show you some stuff,” he tries to act cool adjusting his beanie and glancing past me. 

“Cool, it’s a date,“ I smile catching his gaze.

“It’s a date love,” he smiles back.


2

Had to bring out the old tablet since my new one decided to stop working… This old tablet drew many Jasons in its day… so here is another one.

2

Kol: No, no, no. No! This can’t be happening.
Y/N: Kol, it’s okay.
Kol: How can this be okay? You dying is nowhere near okay.
Y/N: Please listen to…
Kol: This is all my fault, I never should have brought you into this mess.
Y/N: Listen to me carefully Kol. I’d rather die now than live a thousand years without you. I love you.
Kol: And I love you Y/N. I’ll always love you. Always.

Relationship 101 (Evan Hansen x Reader)

@markimoo28: “THAT SMUT WAS L I F E HOLY HELL, do you think we could get a fluffy Evan x Reader?”

Ahh it was shit but tysm!!! I’ve written smut before but it’s usually way kinkier and in role plays tbh but I’m glad you liked it!!!!! Here’s some cute awkward Evan trying to be relationship-y 😁

Plot: Evans not very good with doing coupley things, but y/n helps calm his nerves and teaches him. (Worlds shitiest description)

Warnings: awkwardness and adorableness

••••••••


You sat cross legged on your boyfriends bed, watching a Rick and Morty rerun and laughing at a dumb joke in the show. Said boyfriend, sat cross legged too, your knees about three inches from eachother, the two of you sat on nearly opposite sides of the bed. You sighed a bit, thinking about how you and Evan weren’t very coupley and how you wished you were. Of course you didn’t blame Evan, he wasn’t very good at that type of stuff and was just generally awkward and avoided PDA and you couldn’t get upset at him for it, but sometimes you just wished people knew you were together. You weren’t hiding your relationship or anything and it still took Jared about a month into the relationship to discover you two were together.

“Are you okay?” You heard a soft voice break you out of your trance. You looked over at Evan and could practically see the thoughts racing through his mind. Were you planning on dumping him? Did he do something wrong?

“It’s… it’s nothing,” you replied, picking at your nail and looking down at your hands in your lap.

“A-are you sure? Because you seem pretty distracted and distant and I just wanted to make sure you were okay and that I didn’t do anything wrong or something,” he spoke fast, His voice getting softer at the end as he ran out of breath a bit.


“No it’s not you… Well, actually it kinda is,” you said, looking up at him and continuing to speak quickly before he started to get anxious about what he might have done wrong, “it’s just, we aren’t very coupley, you know? Like we rarely hold hands, we’ve never kissed, barely ever hugged, and never, like, just cuddled. I mean look at us now. We’re watching cartoons sitting as far apart as possible. Do you know what most teenagers are like when they have a whole day home alone with their significant other?” You said, chuckling on the last part and seeing Evans ears tint red.

“Y-yeah I do, I’m sorry, I just, I-I mean I didn’t know you were ready for th-”

“Woah there, Evan. Babe, I like you, but I’m so not ready for that, that’s not what I meant at all,” you laughed, holding up your hands to stop his train of thought. You see him let out a breath of relief, knowing he was nowhere near ready for that.

“Okay good I-I’m not either,” he said, mentally slapping himself a bit afterwards, “I’m just, I’m sorry I’m just not very coupley i don’t mean to be it’s not like I don’t want to be I just… i don’t know how, I guess,” he shrugs a bit at the end of his statement.

“I could teach you,” you smiled and but your lip slightly, “where would you like to start in Relationships 101.”

“I mean, I guess we could, uh, we could kiss now?” He replied timidly, “but only if you want to of course.”

“Evan of course I want to silly,” you laughed before adjusting your position o face his directly, Evan doing the same, “Okay, just follow my lead.” He nods. You lean closer to him, his cologne now more noticable. You close you eyes and lean more, feeling his lips graze you’re lightly. Evan sees you’ve closed you eyes and follows suit, leaning more into the kiss as well. You rest your hand on the back of his neck, feeling him tense up a tiny bit before relaxing into the kiss again. He tentatively placed his hand on your cheek, you both moving into the kiss now as he gets better at it. You eventually pull away to breath, you opening his eyes to meet his blue ones. You exhale happily, grinning and biting your lip again a little bit. You can tell what he’s thinking and answers his question before it’s even asked.

“That was amazing,” you reassured Evan, him grinning now at your statement. “Want another lesson?” You giggled.

“Uh, sure,” he replied, seeming a little off from the kiss.

You giggled again at him being flustered, finding it adorable, “How about you learn to cuddle?” You suggested.

He nodded, “Yeah, sure, okay.” You smiled and laid a few pillows at the head of his bed for you two and directed him to lay on his bed. He followed your direction obediently. Pulling his right arm away from his body you laid next to him, practically on top of him, and pulled his arm back around you. You gently laid your head against his chest, his heartbeat becoming very apparent.

“Is this okay?” You asked him, making sure he wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Y-yeah, it’s fine,” he stuttered.

You giggled, “Then why’s your heart beating so hard?”

“I, uh, b-because you just look really cute like that,” Evan admitted, His face turning red as he looked down at his lap. You grinned, grabbing his cheek and pulling him down to kiss you again.

I can get used to this, you thought.

•••••••

hope y'all liked this cringy cute imagine. Idk I kinda liked it but @ requester I hope it’s what you wanted!!!!

background static

It was time to give my nb!Maggie piece the love it deserved. 2nd person pov (to avoid she/her pronouns) and a revamp of the original time crush effected writing. Also on ao3.

Shout out to @queercapwriting, @thatkidwiththeunkepthair, @onefootone, @nerdsbianhokie, and @hbeeleigh! I hope everyone enjoys the new and improved version.

———-

It’s one of those days, where you pulled your hair back because no matter how hard you tried it wouldn’t fall right, where your clothes don’t sit right and the only bra you could stand was a sports bra. When it feels like something inside you has shifted out of alignment, tried to come into new focus, and thrown everything off instead – or maybe that something has always been just a little off, if you looked for it, but you don’t look. Have learned how not to look, how to ignore it. Almost, almost.

Almost, but not entirely. Because if you’re being truthful you know exactly what’s wrong, why these days always leave you feeling worn and frayed around the edges. More so than usual. You know, and that scares you, because acknowledging it means upending the identity you have built, because acknowledging it means you’re even more other in a world that already wants to pretend that you, that people like you, do not exist. So you ignore it, keep your mouth shut, deny it even to yourself.

Deny it to yourself, even though you can feel yourself unraveling a little more every time you push it back down. Every time you bite back the words “I know,” or “I feel that too, when you’re talking to Park or to Adrian. Every time you push Alex away, when things get heated, because it is too strong right then and makes your stomach knot at the thought of sex, at the thought of Alex seeing and touching your naked body. But you you don’t ever let yourself acknowledge the why, even as every “she,” every “her,” every “girlfriend,” strikes your ears… not completely wrong, but hollow, empty. Like something is being missed, is being overlooked.

So it’s one of those days and it’s also been a long day, by the time you and Alex get to game night at Kara’s. A long and tiring day at work, in the aftermath of the Daxamite invasion – working with people who don’t give a fuck about so many of the lives up-heaved by the destruction because they aren’t human, because even the humans aren’t middle class and white. It’s been a long day, and you are frayed down passed your skin, the point where ignoring it is becoming practically impossible.

You try, though, God do you try. Try to distract yourself, to bury it. Because Alex is here, pressed into your side, laughing into your shoulder. Alex, who brought love and light and family into your life, at a time when you had started to give up on those things. Alex, who wants to marry you. Alex, who you don’t ever want to lose. Are afraid of losing, if you voice it.

Because Alex is still so new, to all of this – she only just came out, less than a year ago, and she doesn’t know all of the complexities, the spiderweb of intersections that is sexuality and gender. She doesn’t know all those things and you are afraid, afraid it will be too much – that she won’t see you as someone she can love.

So, by the time Alex gently squeezes your shoulder, says she’s ready to leave, you are on your…. fifth? sixth? beer, and you realize you probably shouldn’t be drinking this much, especially not in front of Alex, but you’re just this side of splitting apart at the seems and the buzz from the alcohol is almost enough to take the edge off the stactic-y buzz that’s been settled under your skin since sometime around noon.

You wobble and stumble as you stand up, nearly sending your chair to the floor, Alex catching and steadying you with lightening reflexes.

“I’m calling a cab,” Alex says, already reaching to pull out her phone.

“You don’t have to,” you slur into Alex’s shoulder. “I’ll give you my keys, trust you with my bike.”

“Maggie, you’re drunk,” Alex says. “You’re not getting on a bike at all tonight.”

Which, yes, Alex is right. As much as you want the feeling of the air whipping against you, of pressing close to Alex, you really shouldn’t.

“Hey, Kara?” Alex says. “Can you take Maggie’s bike bike to our place later?”

“Yeah, sure,” Kara says.

“Maggie,” Alex is squeezing your shoulder, “give Kara your keys, okay?”

“Be careful with her,” you say to Kara, as you surrender the keys to Alex, who passes them to her sister.

“You can trust me. She’ll be in your parking lot by tomorrow morning,” Kara assures. Then, turning to Alex, she says “get her home safe, okay?”

“I will,” Alex replies, momentarily pulling you closer, before pulling out her phone to call the cab.

You stumble about as gracefully into the cab as you did standing up at Kara’s table and Alex has to help you with your seatbelt, has to help you out once you arrive at her apartment building. Out of the cab, up the elevator, down the hall, Alex stays close to you all the way to the apartment proper. Once inside, she directs you to the couch, to sit down. Takes your jacket and comes back with a glass of water, which she presses into your hands, cool and heavy. She makes you drink half of it right then and there.

“You gonna tell me what’s eating at you, Mags?” Alex asks. You swallow and look down, look away – of course Alex has noticed. Noticed that something is wrong. Because she is Alex and she pays attention to you in a way few people ever have. “You can tell me anything, babygirl, okay?”

You don’t want to tense but you do, as the buzz under your skin gets louder and your chest tight, that carefully ignored part of you being nowhere near okay with being ‘babygirl’, and Alex notices that too, of course. So she asks you again, asks what’s wrong, but she also says it again – calls you ‘babygirl’ – and somehow, somehow you have no idea how, you find the words to speak.

“Please – please don’t call me that -” your voice shakes. “Not right now, not ‘babygirl’.”

“Okay, it’s okay,” Alex – perfect, amazing Alex – agrees softly, agrees without question. “I’m here for you sweetheart, you can talk to me.”

You’re not sure if you’ll ever be completely ready to talk about this, to give voice to it, but you’re pretty sure that if you don’t, you’re going to fall completely apart. So you’re caught somewhere between almost nearly telling and not at all telling, the words bubbling up half formed in your throat, only to fizz in your mouth so all that comes out is air.

“I’m sorry,” you say, your voice thick and breaking. Sorry, for being drunk. Sorry, for keeping something so important, so pivotal, locked up. For not voicing it sooner, before things got so serious, before Alex had said she wanted to marry you. For not telling Alex now. “I-I can’t… I’m sorry.” It’s still too soon, too undefined, too scary.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you, you don’t have to talk right now,” Alex says, pulling you close, running comforting hands over your back. “I’ve got you, Mags.”

You cry. You cry until you have no more tears, no more sobs. Alex makes you drink water, helps you into sweats and a hoodie, braids your hair back for you when your own fingers fumble at the sections. Helps you up the steps to the bed, with her arm firm around your waist. When you lay down, Alex lays down behind you, wraps her arms around you, pulls you close. As she whispers a soft ‘I love you’ into your hair, so soft you can barely hear it, all you can hope is that you won’t lose this. Won’t lose this when you have finally voiced it.


It’s the next morning and you have to go to work, headache be damned. You still feel frayed, feel raw, but it is better than last night, if only a little.

You need to talk to Alex, you are going to talk to Alex, but first – first you have to start untangling this, untangling yourself from where you hid it all away. Because you’ve pushed it aside, ignored it, it denied, so much that you don’t even know where to begin.

Park will help you, they will be kind, you know this, but that doesn’t stop part of you from worrying. Doesn’t stop the part of you that whispers about how long you’ve taken, how long you ignored and denied it. Doesn’t stop you from being afraid.

Breathe in, slow, through your nose and out through your mouth.

Park is your friend, they will help you, and you need to do this. Need to do this for yourself. If you don’t, it’s going to eat you from the inside out. So, standing by your bike, you take another deep breath and pull out your phone.

Maggie Sawyer: hey, you free for lunch today?

Maggie Sawyer: there’s something i wanna talk to you about

H. Park: yeah, sure

H. Park: there’s this new place in koreatown i wanna try, sound good to you?

Maggie Sawyer: sounds great, thank you

As you put on your helmet and straddle your bike, you take a moment to steady yourself, take a moment to breathe, before you start the engine and roll out of the parking lot, into the street. You let the feeling of riding fill you, take you away if only for a moment.

You are strong. You are going to be okay.

kyokakoku  asked:

Lance on their first time: "oh hell to the no, mister! You're cutting those claws or your fingers are going nowhere near my ass!"

Okay, so me and Mod Blob went two very different ways with this xDD

Mod Blob’s Idea: They like the idea that certain galra can control the extension of their claws, like cats. That way Kolivan could just do that, and they’d be good, maybe a tiny bit of nail filing but.

So you got that logical piece of work, which makes 100% bit of sense. Then there’s me:

Mod Mizu’s Idea: their first time isn’t their first time. They’re naked, they’re worked up. Lance sees the claws and is like, exactly what you said. Lance ends up getting his nail filer and clippers, but somehow they get distracted and end up just having a naked spa night and cuddle. Basically I went with a funny solution because… fuck it

xD Your ask made me laugh though cause like, that def would happen

-Mod Mizu 💙💜💙

I Love to Hate You

TITLE: I Love To Hate You

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Thirteen


AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki and you dislike each other, but you are forced into an arranged marriage and as time goes by, it barely gets better. It seems to be a marriage that will hardly be amiable but certain events causes Loki to be the husband you never thought he could be.

RATING: Teen

NOTE: Remember this story? Wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t, I could not retrieve it from my old laptop so I had to wait for inspiration to work on it again, here is some, enjoy.  

Alexandra sighed as the warm water surrounded her as her body sank into the bath tub, in the four months since her parents had died and she and Loki had taken the throne, there were very few issues, bar the usual expected teething issues, and the baby continued to grow well and safe.

Mikhail’s accusations and comments were met with open hostility by most every member of the court, some outright asking the new royals if they wanted him whipped and imprisoned for treason. Both agreed the shock of the suggestion, and the banning of him and his sons from the Privy Council was punishment enough, for now. Should he continue to act as he was, perhaps that was an option.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

"Wake up–you were hyperventilating, are you okay?" With Patton and Virgil? Doesn't have to be NSFW

“Wake up–you were hyperventilating, are you okay?” “It was just a dream, you’re alright.” “Look at me–you’re safe.” Moxiety would be amazing thanks

Patton wakes up to Virgil writhing on the covers, whimpering and struggling to breathe. They’ve slept in the same bed long enough that Patton knows it’s one of Virgil’s unfortunately frequent nightmares. He gently shakes Virgil to wake him up. “Come on, wake up.”

It takes a moment, but then Virgil bolts upright, gasping for air and shaking.

“You were hyperventilating, and- are you okay?” he asks. 

Virgil nods, but he’s nowhere near okay. “Look at me. You’re safe. It was just a dream. You’re alright, you’re safe.”

He opens his arms for Virgil to curl up into. Pat slowly rocks the both of them back and forth, soothing him and lulling him back to sleep.

anonymous asked:

Hey.. Can I have a hug? :(

Sure thing Anon.

Things may be rough right now, and they may be rough for a little while longer. But when the storm peaks, the tides will change. Hold on, hang out, everything that comes shall pass.
Also remember that your thoughts are only thoughts, they are not a reflection of reality even if they seem very convincing.
Your feelings may be drowning you, burn you, devoid you, tear you up or even devastate you.. but you are still here. You are strong. 
You battle every day, and that takes energy - you’re not lazy. You are doing the best you can with what you got. That’s very remarkable of you. You are doing better than you think you are.
There is sun behind every cloud, there are always a different way to look at things. I know it is difficult when your mind is a minefield, but try to be optimistic. Even if things didn’t work out - you tried. You did your best. if you wouldn’t ask more of someone you love, you shouldn’t ask more of yourself either. Look for the good things, they are there.
Please don’t hurt yourself, try channel that energy into something creative. Start drawing on your arms instead, go cook, take a shower, take a walk. Remove yourself from the room you are in. Just be safe. People care about you, I care about you.
Take care of yourself, however that way may be. There is nothing wrong or bad about wanting to get better. I know it’s a trial and error, and people question how bad you really are if you put effort in making changes and trying. Trying to help yourself doesn’t mean you don’t have [thing], it just means you’re trying to cope and find ways to live with [thing] and make things less horrible than they already are.
Remember, You will be okay. I know that’s an overused statement, and since I’m nowhere near “okay” myself, I know just how hopeless that sentence can sound. But you’re not hopeless, I am not hopeless. Have hope. Don’t try make sense of what “hope” means, just wing it. Just let hope be, and come, in whatever form it takes in your life. 
You can do this. One day at the time, breathe in, breathe out. Stretch your back, drink water. stand up. hold up your fists to your sides and say HAH! as loud as you can, get that bad energy out, hear your own voice. You are here, you’re doing okay for someone in your situation. One day at the time.

Still not over  “as if being black absolves u of all ur sins”

Like this is the kind of shit anti-sjws say but nah it’s the “exclusionist” who tried to paint me as a “childish”, hysterical Angry Black Woman “without a life” after I got upset he made vile disgusting false accusations about me with zero evidence (after that post with the accusation in a post I didn’t rb he said he “took it back”, but continued talking shit about me for having gotten upset and didn’t even apologize. Instead there were lines like “but holy shit get off my dick”. And then he answered that anon like that wtf)

But how dare I tell someone to stop saying absolute nasty shit about me while refusing to unblock. After the person had already tried to circumvent my block before to mock me.

And just that above line and calling me ‘childish’ for being legit angry and upset on top like. Antiblackness and misogynoir much? With just a bit of casual ableism thrown in re me supposedly having “no life”. Like wow. Wow

That was vile from start to finish and I’m still in fact angry and upset. This crap is nowhere near the realm of okay

Sanvers Week, Day 3: “You’re drunk.”

yet again posting late, but at least i finished it? this one was hard to write, but i’m vaguely satisfied how it came out. the rough draft that became this had actually been sitting around for months, and ‘today’s’ theme provided the skeleton i needed to finish it. hope you like, @queercapwriting!

no title because it is past 2AM and nothing good comes to mind. also completely unedited as last time.

who’s park? see here: http://syllabicacronyms.tumblr.com/post/162015714900/who-is-park-again

content warning: dysphoria, also she/her pronouns used through whole fic for maggie, who isn’t anywhere near trying others yet. also for alcohol/intoxication, obviously.


It’s one of those days, where she pulled her hair back because no matter how hard she tried it wouldn’t fall right, where her clothes don’t sit right and the only bra she could stand was a sports bra. When it feels like something inside her has shifted out of alignment, tried to come into new focus, and thrown everything off instead – but Maggie has learned how not to look, how to ignore it. Almost, almost.

Almost. Because if she’s being truthful she’s knows exactly what’s wrong, why these days always leave her feeling worn and frayed around the edges. More so than usual. She knows and that scares her, because acknowledging it means upending the identity she’s built, because acknowledging it means she’s even more other in a world that already wants to pretend she doesn’t exist. So Maggie ignores it, keeps her mouth shut, denies it even to herself.

Denies it to herself, even though she can feel herself unraveling a little more every time she pushes it back down. Every time she bites back the words “I know,” or “I feel that too,” when she’s talking to Park or to Adrian. Every time she pushes Alex away, when things get heated, because it is too strong right then and makes her stomach knot at the thought of sex, at the thought of Alex seeing and touching her naked body, but doesn’t ever let herself acknowledge the why. As every “she,” every “her,” every “girlfriend” strikes her ears… not completely wrong, but hollow, empty. Like something is being missed, is being overlooked.

So it’s one of those days and it’s also been a long day, by the time she and Alex get to game night at Kara’s. A long and tiring day at work, in the aftermath of the Daxamite invasion – working with people who don’t give a fuck about so many of the lives up-heaved by the destruction because they weren’t human, because even the humans weren’t middle class and white. It’s been a long day, and Maggie is frayed down past her skin, to the point where ignoring it is becoming next to impossible.

Maggie tries, though. Tries to distract herself, to bury it. Because Alex is here, pressed into her side, laughing into her shoulder. Alex, who has brought love and light and family into Maggie’s life, at a time when she’d started to give up on those things. Alex, who wants to marry Maggie. Alex, who Maggie doesn’t want to lose. Is afraid of losing, if she voices it.

So, by the time Alex gently squeezes Maggie’s shoulder, says she’s ready to leave, Maggie is on her… fifth? sixth? beer. She realizes she probably shouldn’t be drinking this much, not in front of Alex, but she’s just this side of falling apart at the seams and the buzz form the alcohol is almost enough to take the edge off the static-y buzz that’s been settled underneath her skin since sometime around noon.

Maggie wobbles and stumbles on the way into the elevator, Alex expertly catching and steadying her as the doors close.

“I’m calling a cab,” Alex says, already pulling out her phone.

“You don’t have to,” Maggie slurs into Alex’s shoulder. “I’ll give you the keys, trust you with my bike.”

“Maggie, you’re drunk,” Alex says. “You’re not getting on a bike at all tonight.”

Maggie stumbles about as gracefully into the cab as she had the elevator and Alex has to help her with her seatbelt. Has to help Maggie out once they’re at Alex’s apartment building, too. Out of the cab, up the elevator, staying close to Maggie all the to the apartment proper. Once inside, Alex directs Maggie to the couch, to sit down. Goes to the kitchen and comes back with a glass of water, which she presses into Maggie’s hands. Makes Maggie drink half of it right then and there.

“You gonna tell me what’s eating at you, Mags?” Alex asks, and Maggie swallows in response. Of course Alex has noticed, noticed that something is wrong. Because she is Alex, and she pays attention to Maggie in a way few people ever have. “You can tell me anything, babygirl. I’m here, okay?”

Maggie doesn’t want to tense but she does, that carefully ignored part of her being nowhere near okay with being ‘babygirl’. Alex notices that too of course, and she asks again what’s wrong, but also she says it again – calls Maggie 'babygirl’ – and somehow, somehow Maggie will never know exactly how, she finds the words to speak.

“Please – please don’t call me that right now,” Maggie asks. “Not 'babygirl'” And Alex, perfect, amazing Alex, agrees without question.

“You don’t have to talk to me if you’re not ready,” Alex says, “but I’m here when you are. Okay, sweetheart?”

Maggie isn’t sure if she’ll ever be ready to talk about this, to give voice to it, but even still as drunk as is she’s pretty sure that she needs to, if she’s going to keep herself from falling completely apart. So Maggie is caught between not at all telling and almost nearly telling – the words forming half jumbled in her mind and beginning to bubble up her throat, but fizzing in her mouth so all that comes out is air. She shakes her head and tells Alex later, later, later – it’s still too soon, too undefined, too scary. Alex just pulls her in and rubs her back and kisses the top of her head.

Once Maggie has cried herself out, Alex makes her drink more water, helps her into sweats and a hoodie, even braids Maggie’s hair back when her own hands fumble at the sections. Helps her up the steps to the bed and lays down behind her after turning out the light, pulling Maggie close and whispering a soft 'I love you’ into the back of her neck. Maggie can only hope she doesn’t lose that, once she’s finally voiced it.

————————————-

The next morning, before Maggie hops on her bike to go to work, she pulls out her phone and stares at the contact list for a little bit, building her courage before tapping Park’s picture.

Maggie Sawyer: hey, you free for lunch today?

Maggie Sawyer: there’s something i wanna talk to you about

H. Park: yeah, sure

H. Park: there’s this new place in koreatown i wanna try, sound good to you?

Maggie Sawyer: sounds great, thank you

anonymous asked:

please let there be more of the kid au!

( heck yes! also for the other anon and @express0yourself​ ! )

“You really scared them with the knife.”

“I’m sorry.”

“But Matt asked to see, didn’t he?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ll be sorrier if you let that melt.”

Shoving a spoonful of half-chocolate soup, half-chocolate ice cream into his mouth, Neil kicked his feet under his chair and ducked his head.

He was good at acting like he was doing exactly what he was told. He had the others convinced, which was probably why Matt had been a blubbering mess upon their emergency return from the shopping trip. Admittedly, the incident was a big one, especially when Neil wouldn’t fess up to where he’d put the knife even under threat of Wymack asking in a stern, I’m-not-angry-I’m-asking-calmly voice.

Dan had eventually uncovered the blade hidden in a dirty sock behind the DVD cases,  but by then, Neil had started in on  rapid, fretful apologies and looked on the verge of tears; not knowing how else to react, they’d let him go with little more than a slap on the wrist.

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Should’ve Been Us (2)

Fandom: Shadowhunters 

Summary: It’s the big day, Alec’s and Lydia’s wedding. Alec stopped the wedding but not for the reader. G

Pair: Alec Lightwood x (Female)Reader

Requested?: More like suggested

Word Count: 1733 

Published Date: November 18, 2016

Warnings: Crying, making out scene

Knows: (y/n)- Your Name, (h/c)- Hair Color, (h/l)- Hair Length

‘If you’re brave enough to say goodbye, life will reward you with a new hello.”

- Paulo Coelho

Part 1 Part 3



(y/n) let out a breath as she brushed her long black lace dress down. She didn’t expect her dress to be so revealing. In the back it went to the top of her ankles while the front went to the top of her knees. It was also sleeveless, making goosebumps appear on her shoulders. Her (h/l) (h/c) was curled by Isabelle Lightwood herself. And right now she was also doing (y/n)’s makeup, though not all things could go Isabelle’s way.

“Why are you putting so much makeup on me? I’m not that ugly.” (y/n) whines, “I’m starting to feel like a play doll that it’s owner doesn’t know when enough is enough.” Isabelle sighs as she finally put down her thin brush and took a step back. 

“I guess you’re done now.” Isabelle said, crossing her arms as her bottom lip goes out with a pout. (y/n) sigh in relief before turning around to see how she looks. Her breath hitched when she saw how beautiful she looked. It’s like she barely recognized herself. She couldn’t observe herself more though when Clary ran in, asking Isabelle for her help once again. (y/n) stood up and started her way towards the ceremony, knowing that Clary might want to talk to Isabelle alone. 

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I Can't Survive When You're Not Here // #BSPromptChallenge

Day 5: Redemption

A/N: I actually wrote a relatively long fic! THIS NEVER HAPPENS. 


Her nightmares never stopped; despite catching Shepherd, and despite having the comfort of Kurt beside her at night, they still come in frequent bursts. They take over her entire body, causing her to shake and sweat uncontrollably. Her breath quickens and she tries to fight it, tries to stop it, but she can’t. The dreams succumb her completely, like waves forcefully crashing over her.

And it’s always the same dream.

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Love/Hate

Group: BTS

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff…?

Yoongi fell back on his bed laughing as he watched you arguing with Jungkook. “Why are you still here!? Go home” Jungkook groaned, tossing his body back onto his bed. 

“I was invited here, stupid! Why would you come into this room if you knew I was going to be in here” you spat. Yoongi gathered himself together and sat up, wiping tears from his eyes. How was this funny? “Don’t call me stupid” Jungkook said, sitting up. His voice had deepened and you wondered if he thought that he was scaring you. You started to speak but Yoongi clapped his hand over your mouth. 

“Okay, that’s enough. Jungkook why don’t you go… do something” he suggested. Jungkook made a face but stood up and left anyway. You watched as he shut the bedroom door and then rolled your eyes. “Why do you always ask me over here when he is going to be here?” you asked, annoyed. Yoongi laughed again and you grimaced, before taking a seat on his bed.

“I just want you to realize that you are in love with him” he said seriously. You stuck your tongue out and shivered. “Ugh, stop” you complained.

“I’m serious. You and Jungkook have a lot in common” he said, walking to his dresser. He dug in the top drawer and pulled out a hat.

“Except he is a jerk, and I am not” you mumbled. Yoongi heard you and snorted.

“If you say so. Both of you have jerk-ish moments. Why do you hate him?” he asked, pulling that hat on. He moved to the mirror and began adjusting his hat and fixing his hair. “Honestly, I can’t remember why. I just know that he was always pretty annoying toward me” you said.

“So, in other words, you two just hate each other for no reason at all?” Yoongi said. He took one last look in the mirror before turning around to face you.

“I hate him because he is always rude to me” you said. Yoongi just smiled and shook his head. He folded his arms over his chest and stared at you. “What? He is! You were listening to the conversation earlier! Basically, he verbally kicked me out of the house” you said. 

“You called him stupid” Yoongi threw back.

“He walked into this room just to argue with me” you defended.

“You purposefully bumped him on your way in.” You went quiet and Yoongi laughed. It wasn’t your fault. You just had a natural urge to make Jungkook’s life harder.

“Whatever the reason, just know that you are wrong. I will never love Jungkook” you said. Yoongi shrugged and grabbed your hand, pulling you to a standing position. “Sure, let’s go” he said dismissively.

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((Okay, @tron pointed this out to me. Chris Evans, doing some B&E on a corporate computer network, in that ill-fitting button-down and glasses, and singing Journey on top of it. Thank you…I’m unfortunately not un-seeing this as something that may or may not have happened during an Encom annual break-in which is why Sam does the actual B&E after that…))