they could be on the floor for instance

A Life You Deserve (John Wick x Reader)

Originally posted by giantmonster

Who ever thought that The Boogeyman could fall in love. 

SPOILER FREE FIC consisting of 100% sappy fluff. 

A very loose Part II to this (x) – though it can easily be read on its own. 

John lay on his side next to you. His eyes were closed. His body was relaxed. His breathing was steady. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was just a man lulled into a slumber because it was a basic, human need. Instead, you marveled at the fact that the Boogeyman slept.

Instances like these were so rare. In the year you’d been with him, you’d only been able to spend  a handful of nights together, and you’d learned to treasure every moment. Perhaps that was why you could never sleep when he was by your side. He always looked so vulnerable, and even in the safety of The Continental, you still felt the need to watch over him. You’d grown to love John more than you could comprehend, and with that love came the constant need to keep him safe. Naturally, he’d assure you that he was perfectly fine—usually as the Continental’s doctor administered him sutures after a job—then change the subject. But you were stubborn, so if he wasn’t going to let you protect him while he was awake, then you’d do it when he was unconscious and had no say in the matter.

In the mornings, he went right back to real life. There was no groggy twilight to ease him in. It was always an alarm jolting his eyes open, and by the second time it buzzed, he’d be sitting up mumbling some variation of “I’m awake, I’m awake” irately at the offending clock. Then he’d turn his attention to you, most likely still asleep, and lay back down to pull you against his body. His arms would snake around you. His lips would graze your neck. It was time to switch roles. He was the protector once again, and you were his porcelain doll. Fragile. Captivating. He told you this on a regular basis. And you believed it to be true. John wasn’t one to say things he didn’t mean. He didn’t like to waste words.

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betsforsythetrash  asked:

Could you write something where F.P. is in Bughead's lives in the future? Like clean, sober, doting Dad helping plan the wedding or dancing with Betty at their reception or BABYSITTING their child or something? (:

Not gonna lie, I got ridiculously carried away with this, I literally just sat for ages and wrote it all in one go! I was gonna post this tomorrow but I’m too impatient so here you go :)

Thank you so much for the prompt, clearly I had some FP family feels I needed to get out <3

Jughead wasn’t sure why he’d come. Maybe it was because he knew that this time was different. His dad, though perpetually drunk, could usually take care of himself. It was a rare instance when he rang his son, babbling incoherently on the line about how he was sorry, that he couldn’t do this anymore. But that’s exactly what had happened tonight, which was why Jughead was currently making his way up the steps of FP’s trailer at 2AM on a Thursday.

“Dad?” he called out in trepidation, peering around the room at the mess of empty bottles and stale takeout cartons. A groan rang out from the kitchen to his left. Rounding the corner he found his dad, hunched against the cabinets on the floor, broken glass surrounding him, sticky amber liquid pouring out from what remained of the whiskey bottle, blood quickly soaking the fabric of his shirt from the gash in his hand. “Jesus, Dad.” Jughead crouched to get a closer look, tilting FP’s head to meet his foggy, unfocused eyes. He sighed, turning to his hand, picking up the heavy limb and examining the wound. “It’s not that deep, hold on.” He straightened up, searching the draws for a clean dishtowel to wrap around the wound while he cleaned up as best he could. He’d brushed up most of the glass when he realised it would be better to move his dad out of the way if he was going to get this done more efficiently. The smell of alcohol was starting to burn his nose. Jughead flung open a window before reaching down to pick up his dad, staggering against the dead weight that now bore across his shoulders. He dropped him into a nearby chair with a groan, placing a glass of water in front of him before turning back to the task at hand.

FP watched him with dazed eyes, head lolling slightly, blinking slowly as if he were insurmountably tired. Jughead tried not to feel the weight of his gaze burning into the back of his head as he swept, grabbing a mop to tackle the next mess. He was filling up the bucket with warm water when FP finally spoke.

“’m sorry, Jug.” The words were barely defined. Jughead scoffed, slamming the tap off and rested his hands against the edge of the counter, knuckles turning white with the strain.

“Why do you keep saying that?” he bit out. FP blanched at the venom in his son’s voice, one that he hadn’t heard before. Disappointment, sure. Weariness, definitely. But this? Never. “You don’t mean it, you never mean it. If you were sorry you wouldn’t keep doing it over and over.” FP hung his head in shame. “Did you even try? Did you even pretend, to yourself, that this time it could be different?” Jughead turned finally to look at his broken mess of a father. His eyes were hard, fed up of being forgiving. “I can’t believe another one of your empty promises.” He tried to keep the crack out of his voice.

“This time…” FP trailed off, voice drowsy. “You’re mom, Jellybean…” The sound of Jughead slamming a fist against the counter echoed throughout the trailer.

“Stop!” he shouted, tucking his quivering lower lip between his teeth, willing the tears away. He didn’t want to cry over this anymore. It was beyond repair, beyond redemption. “I can’t hold on to this hope, anymore. I’m sixteen, Dad. This isn’t… it shouldn’t be this way. I shouldn’t have to pick you up off the floor,” he let out a humourless laugh, “on a school night.” Jughead averted his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get this out if he didn’t look away. “I have to start looking for a home somewhere else. With Mr Andrews and Archie. With Betty.” He paused, the image he conjured up of the blonde girl with the soft green eyes and gentle touch calmed him. She felt like home. “I think… I’m gonna marry her someday,” his voice caught and he stopped to clear it, swallowing away every doubt he had about his future. “I want a life with her, a home. And it can’t involve this, I won’t let it. You-” he paused, steeling himself for his next words. “You shouldn’t call anymore. You shouldn’t try and reach me. I can’t be your fall guy anymore. I can’t be the collateral in your messed up life. I won’t do that, not to Betty. She deserves more so that’s what I have to try to be, starting with this.” He took a shaky step towards the door. He saw FP lift a hand towards him hesitantly before thinking better of himself, letting it drop against his thigh with a defeated thud. Jughead shook his head almost imperceptibly - that confirmed it, he didn’t want to try. “Goodbye, Dad.”

The door had swung shut before the first tear slid down FP’s cheek.


It was almost three weeks later when Jughead saw FP again. He shook his head in disbelief at the familiar figure of his father standing outside Pop’s. FP stood up straight on Jughead’s approach.

“Dad, I wasn’t kidding-” he began in a furious whisper, glancing round frantically for prying eyes. He was supposed to be meeting Betty and the rest of the gang here.

“I… I’m sober, Jughead.” The words hung between them as Jughead jolted back in disbelief. He took a moment, now, to really take in the man before him. His skin was pallid and sunken beneath the eyes, dark circles standing out in striking contrast. His hands, Jughead noticed, were shaking. “Almost a week now, for real this time,” FP announced. His tone wasn’t prideful, it was holding something else… hope? Hope that’d he done enough this time to reverse the irreversible. Jughead’s eyes narrowed.

“Really?” he asked sceptically, body stiff with uncertain tension. FP nodded vigorously.

“Yeah. Yes, I swear,” he pleaded. Jughead looked him directly in the eyes, an eerie replica of his own staring back at him, earnest and clear for the first time in years. Jughead felt himself begin to nod slowly.

“Ok. Ok, I believe you. I’ll… come round and see you tomorrow,” he promised, still not making a move to close the distance between them. FP visibly deflated in relief.

“Tomorrow, sure. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he smiled, still small and unsure, before turning to mount his bike, roaring out of the parking lot with renewed hope spreading throughout his chest.


“Here,” FP said, handing Jughead the box. Jughead looked up at him before opening the black velvet lid, smiling at the delicate ring nestled inside. “It was your grandmother’s, she’d want you to have it,” he finished, shrugging awkwardly at the offering.

“She’ll love it,” Jughead murmured, running a finger lightly over the blue sapphire surrounded by clusters of tiny diamonds, set in a gold band. He looked back up at FP with a genuine smile that reached his eyes, nervous excitement beginning to settle in his stomach. FP clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder, looking down at him with pride.

Seven years sober. A little worse for wear but he’d made it because of this boy - this man - stood before him. It had been the furthest road from easy, but he’d endured every shaky step to get him here because he knew this was it, his only chance.

He’d got to be there, in the gym itself, as Jughead took his steps across the stage to collect his diploma, see him look out into the audience for him and not be disappointed to find nothing but an empty seat. He got to be there to help Jughead pack for college, loading his and Betty’s boxes into the beat up old car that he’d salvaged for them as a graduation present, working with Betty in secret to fix it up so it ran smoother than it probably did when it was new.

“He’s gonna love it, Mr Jones,” Betty had giggled excitedly when they got the engine purring just the way they wanted. He laughed at the way she clasped her hands in front of her gleefully as he closed the hood.

“You think?” he asked nervously, dusting dirt off the bumper that wasn’t there.

“Of course! It’s so thoughtful,” she smiled warmly, resting a light hand on FP’s arm. He couldn’t help but smile back at her. He knew why his son was drawn to her, felt so safe with her around. He couldn’t have asked for a better guardian angel for him.

“And you can call me FP, Betty,” he called casually as he moved to clean up their tools. He glanced back at her over his shoulder. “You’re family.”

He was there, once again, when they graduated from college, whooping loudly, much to Jughead’s chagrin, as his son’s name was called. He was there as Jughead announced at dinner that he was going to be a published author. He was there on the day of the launch, posing for photos and making jokes about how he was gonna get a couple of autographed copies because his son was a big shot famous author now, Jughead rolling his eyes while his cheeks flushed. He was there at Betty and Jughead’s housewarming. They’d moved back to Riverdale, Jughead being able to write from anywhere and Betty wanting to be near Polly, taking the opportunity to learn the ins and outs of the family paper. FP said a silent prayer in thank you, as he looked around the room of guests, that his son had chosen to come back to him, even after all that had passed.

And he was there now, as Jughead’s voice shook, telling him that he was going to propose to Betty.

“Took you long enough,” he’d quipped, hand reaching out to ruffle the dark mop of hair as Jughead ducked, laughing shyly.


“Oh, this one’s beautiful, Juggie!” Betty had gushed as she poured over wedding magazines while the three of them sat in their living room over coffee - a weekly routine for them now. FP leaned over to catch a glimpse of the image she was pointing to. The wedding was outside, full of white fabric and furniture. Betty was pointing to the ornately carved archway, weaved with white roses, lilies, baby’s breath. Her eyes were shining.

“Well I could make you one of those, help with the cost,” FP said casually, taking a sip of his coffee. Betty turned her glowing green eyes on him immediately, gripping his forearm lightly.

“Really?” she was radiating hope. FP laughed at her enthusiasm.

“Yeah, sure. There’s a lumber yard not too far away, and I can borrow a couple of tools from the construction site. Easy,” he nodded in affirmation.

“Oh, thank you, FP!” she gasped, leaning over to kiss his cheek in gratitude. A shy laugh burst from his lips as he looked down, pink dusting the tops of his cheekbones. Betty flew out of the room to call Polly as FP looked up, catching Jughead’s mouth turned up in amusement. He smiled back contentedly.


“Need a partner?” FP asked, holding his hand out to the bride where she sat, chin resting in her hand as she watched her husband dance with his sister. She smiled gracefully, accepting his offer and floating out onto the dance floor, an ethereal wave of satin and lace.

“Thank you so much, FP,” she said earnestly as they began to sway, reaching up to adjust one of the flowers in her hair.

“Aw, it was nothing, Betty, really,” he replied, casting his eyes to the floor.

“No, it was! You did all this,” she insisted, gesturing to the space around them. He’d gone a little further than just building the archway he’d promised. He’d practically taken it upon himself to build the whole venue. Along with the arch he’d set up strips of white fabric, draped through the trees to create a canopy above their heads, illuminated by rows and rows of soft yellow string lights. Petals covered every inch of the floor, strewn delicately down the isle that was created by the rows of mismatched chairs FP had found in various scrap yards and secondhand stores, all cleaned up and painted white. “It was just how I imagined it, more even.” FP lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

“Yeah, well. I just wanted to make it everything you wanted… that you deserved.” He paused, looking down at her warm smile for a moment before taking a breath to continue. “Betty, I want you to know that, without you, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.” She furrowed her brow, waiting for him to continue. “I’d gotten to a place where Jughead wasn’t willing to help me anymore, where I’d done too much to ever redeem myself. Being with you helped him see that he deserved more than I could give him at that time, that he could be more than just my safety net. When he told me that… I saw everything I was going to miss out on, and that never would have happened if he hadn’t found you. So, I’m gonna spend the rest of my life thanking you, the both of you, in any way I can for what you did for me.” Betty blinked away the tears in her eyes, not bothering to wipe away the stray few that still managed to fall.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered.


He’d been speechless when they told him, knowing there was something different in the air as they sipped their usual morning coffee together.

“A baby?” he’s asked incredulously, hoping beyond hope that he’d heard them right.

“Yeah, Dad. You’re gonna be a grandpa,” Jughead had laughed, his face glowing at he gazed down at his beautiful wife, tucked under his arm with an equally bright expression gracing her face.  

Grandpa. Him, a grandpa. That was going to be his new title now. He couldn’t believe it - he’d made it.


“Ugh, thank you so much, FP,” Betty had greeted him with a relieved expression as he bumbled through the door, a paper grocery bag under each arm. “I would have asked Jughead but he’s out all day in the city at this press thing for the new book and I just…” she broke off, gesturing flippantly at her huge swollen belly stretching out before her. He laughed as he set the bags down on the counter, turning to watch her waddle in behind him.

“No problem, Betty. Anything I can do, remember?” he said, eyes taking on a hint of seriousness round the edges. She nodded in understanding, smiling gently. She placed a hand on her back, groaning as she brushed a few stray hairs back from her sweaty forehead.

“Whoever thought being pregnant in the summer was a good idea was seriously- oh!” She flinched, hand flying to her stomach. FP was at her side immediately.

“Betty? Everything alright?” he asked, hovering by her. She nodded slowly, eyes staring at nothing in particular as she focused on the sensations happening inside her body .

“Yeah, I just… FP, would you be able to take me to the hospital, I think I’m about to have this baby,” she said casually, straightening up and placing her hands on her hips. FP’s eye bugged as he took in what she said.

“Now?! How-” he broke off in question.

“Well, I’ve been having contractions all morning but I thought they were just Braxton Hicks or something, and I didn’t want to stop Jug going to this event…” she trailed off sheepishly glancing up at her father-in-law from under her eyelashes. He blew out a chuckle in disbelief, shaking his head slightly.

“You really are something else, Betty Jones.” She just shrugged, blowing out a slow breath as another contraction took over. “Ah, ok, where’s your bag? Ring Jughead, I’ll meet you by the car.” He rushed towards the bedroom, swinging back round the corner to raise an eyebrow at her. “He’s going to kill you for not saying anything, you know.” She waved a hand dismissively, already making her way outside.

“I’m about to push out his child, he doesn’t have the right.”


“Are you sure?” Jughead asked nervously, hands hovering over Juliet where she lay, cradled in her grandpa’s arms. “Maybe it’s too soon, Betts…” he trailed off, turning to look at his wife with anxious eyes. Betty sighed, coming over to place a reassuring hand on his arm, smoothing out the crease between his eyebrows with a cool finger.

“It’ll be fine, Juggie. You’ve got everything covered, right FP?” she asked, turning to face him with a confident smile. FP nodded, never taking his eyes off his granddaughter’s face as he bounced her gently.

“Both your cell numbers are in my phone, bottles in the fridge, spare milk in the freezer, extra diapers in the cupboard under the stairs. We’ll be fine, won’t we, lovebug?” he cooed at the soft bundle in his arms as she snuffled slightly before settling down again. “See?” FP looked up at Jughead with calm eyes. Jughead stared down at him for a beat, battling with his instincts internally before letting out a sigh, nodding his head.

“Ok, yeah. But if you need anything…” he repeated, fixing his dad with a look.

“Just go, already!” FP laughed gently, trying not to disturb the baby. Betty giggled, pulling on Jughead’s arm slightly to get him towards the door. “Have fun!”

FP stared down at Juliet, allowing her tiny hand to wrap round his finger as he spoke softly to her.

“You have the best parents, I hope you know that. They’ve saved me more times than I can count and I’ll never be able to repay them for that. I made some bad decisions, worse than most, but here I am. I get to hold you in my arms because your mom and your dad didn’t give up on me. They were there when I needed it the most.” He sniffed, blinking rapidly. “I got to see it all because of them, and I can’t wait to see it all again with you.”

TITLE: I Think I Loaf You 
PAIRING: Connor Murphy/Evan Hansen (with some side Alana Beck/Zoe Murphy)
SUMMARY: Connor tags along to his sister’s wedding cake tasting and happens upon the most awkward, adorable baker in existence.
NOTES: I just really love The Great British Baking Show, and this is what happened. Also, a pretty soft Connor/a little ooc, but he’s also gone through some positive change, so yay? Sorry about the title. You can also read this on Ao3 here.

Connor wasn’t at all sure how he got roped into this shit, but there he was, being dragged along by his sister for a wedding cake tasting. He knew that if this was six years ago she could have held a gun to his head and he still wouldn’t have agreed to come along, but, well, they’d come a long way. Such a long way that he was apparently willing to suffer through all this pre-wedding decision making, and that she actually asked him to in the first place.

Whatever. At least he’d get to eat.

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* * *
Summary: You, Rocket and Groot end up stuck spending the night at one of Contraxia’s love hotels. Rocket enjoys teasing you, but doesn’t expect what you do in return.
Warnings: No?? Just flirting…but I dont think thats a warning.
A/N: My first Rocket imagine! I usually dont like writing imagines for characters I like because I tend to lose interest. But I decided to try it out. Hopefully next time, it’ll get better and more ~intense~
* * *
The room hummed under the red glow of neon lamps and the lovers bed pressed up against the wall. You felt the walls muffle your voice, unsure of how to ask Rocket why this was the only available place for them to sleep in. Besides the thick silence hung between the three of you, and the occasional rattling of the cheaply plastered velvet walls, the only sounds to be heard was beyond the glass window wrapped up in curtains. Mainly the rowdiness of drunkards and the piercing laughter that cut through the cold winter night of Contraxia. Then again, every night here is a cold winter night.
Your hands instinctively rubbed your upper arms, trying to warm up in the unusually cold room. There were many reasons this hotel would want cold rooms, some sexual and others less so. Groot was the first to move, walking towards the wall by the glass window and sitting down.
“I am Groot,” He reclined back, his body slowly becoming connected to the wall as he gazed outside to the different species stumbling about. Rocket followed after him, setting his bag down on the right side of the bed, keeping himself occupied with unpacking. You bit the inside of your cheek, watching him only momentarily before excusing yourself to the bathroom to shower.
Rocket began to assemble his gun, getting it ready just in case anything happened during the night. After a couple visits to Contraxia, he knew better than to come unprepared.
“I am Groot,” Groot spoke, causing Rocket to freeze up. He let out a sigh, shaking his head and continuing his work.
“Because we didn’t have enough units to stay at a nice place like The Divine.” He dragged out, revealing his canines. Rewards were coming in slowly, and their collective spending habits were high matinence. This cheesy love hotel was the only thing they could afford on this planet while their ship was under repairs. Needless to say, Reception looked mildly confused at the three of them walking in and requesting a one bedroom.
“I am Groot,” He said once more, turning his head back towards the window. Rocket rolled his eyes, finishing the final details to his weapon. His ear twitched at the sound of the water turning off, his eyes flickering at the shut door, waiting for you to come out.
“Why don’t you just get some shut-eye? Not my fault we couldn’t get separate rooms,” He grumbled, looking down at his gun as be screwed a bolt in tightly with his fingers. Groot didn’t respond, merely closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as he felt himself become rooted into the wall. Rocket perked his head up at the sound of the door sliding open. He watched you pad out of the bathroom, a slip hanging off your shoulders as you dried the top of your hair.
“Did Groot fall asleep already?” You asked, tossing the towel to the side as Rocket murmured in agreement. After walking up to Groot, you kissed him on his forehead before walking towards the bed.
“How come you don’t kiss me like that before I go to bed?” Rocket asked, grinning to himself as you felt your face heat up. The words got lodged in your throat, so you stayed silent and looked away from him. “Left you speechless? That’s usually the effect I have on people,” He snickered, closing a final compartment on his gun and placing it against the bed.
“Its not funny,” You said, grabbing the covers and pulling them over your shoulders as you curled away from Rocket. He clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes as he got up on the bed. His nose wiggled in your hair, just brushing against the back of your neck.
“I think its cute,” He murmured, his paw resting on your waist as he pulled himself closer. “I love getting you all riled up,” His voice was low, feeling his breath right along your ear before feeling his teeth scrape lightly against the flesh on your neck.
“Maybe Groot should have slept on the bed instead,” You barked back, Rocket grinning at the remark.
“And have you sleep on the floor? Besides, I wouldn’t be able to do all this with Groot,” He snickered. You turned around, your lower lip sticking out in a pout as your brows furrowed.
“What’s with the face, Babydoll?” He mocked you, his ears pressing against his head. Tonight was not the night. Perhaps it was because this wasn’t the first instance of him flirting with you. Or perhaps it was because you didn’t want Rocket to only see you as a blushing mess. Perhaps it was because you wanted him to see you as someone who could keep up with him. It was most definitely because you loved him, though.
Your hands reached out for his, enclosing them with your fists and pinning them above his head as you straddled him. His eyes were wide, watching uncertainty hide behind your irises as your hair fell to one side.
“What’s with the face, Babydoll?” She mocked. Rocket closed his eyes, shaking his head for a second before opening them again and grinning.
“I think I like this side of you,” He whispered, making sure Groot couldn’t hear them.
You rolled your eyes, “It’s a hotel. We are supposed to sleep. Do you think you can do that just for this one night?” You asked, a glimmer of mischief in Rocket’s eyes.
“Actually it’s a Love Hotel,” He corrected. “If I’m not mistaken, we aren’t supposed to be sleeping,” His brow raised, looking up at you as his left ear twitched.
“Maybe another night, Rocket. Tonight, we sleep,” You said, rolling off of him and getting under the comforter.
“Another night?” He echoed. “I don’t know…perhaps we should get a sneak peak-“ You interrupted him by grabbing him by the waist and pulling him close to you. His head laid on your chest, hearing your heartbeat.
“Tonight, we sleep,” You mumbled, eyes closed as Rocket agreed in silence. Tonight you would sleep.

Pas de Trois, 3.

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Theatre!AU, Polyamory, Fluff, Angst + Smut

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: None

Summary: Sharing a stage with Jimin and Taehyung is always rewarding, but the real reward is behind the scenes.

Count: 1867 words.

Note: This is a series written for @chimdeer. As always, thank you for the love and special thanks to @dimplecoups + @sydist for reading it over! Also, notice the new header.

Playlist | Prologueiii → iii

Pas de Trois: Act Two, Scene One


Fleeting days had turned into weeks and Taehyung was at the pinnacle of sheer happiness. Due to his benevolent comportment, it was rather easy for fellow actors and students to befriend him—such as moths to a light source. Perturbed at first by the notion of being deemed as an outcast—or persona non grata he would say to Jimin, showing off—it was a delightful feeling to experience being amongst the right crowd regardless of certain differences. However, even as he gave smiles to those around him and banal jokes in uneven English, his eyes would always seem to fall onto you.

“Who knew that Chicago was home to beautiful women?” said the actor to his friend. The weather was tranquil for it allowed the duo to lounge outside, grass prickling parts of their skin as they laid. Jimin, who was preoccupied on re-reading the script and mentality devised dance routines, simply hummed in acknowledgement. Taehyung continued on: “I mean, the world is full of gorgeous ladies, but Y/N just has a certain… Are you even listening?”

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Boss Ford (Part 1)


Rating: T (warning for some intrusive thoughts)

Summary: When Ford work up that morning, he never thought that Stan would be challenging him to run the Mystery Shack for a day.
Even worse, he’d found himself agreeing before he’d really thought it through.
Oh well, it couldn’t be that hard to run the Shack for just one day… could it?

AN: I return! I promise there’s a lot of stuff in the works but this month has taken everything out of me and made it hard to focus on one thing. I’m hoping for a much better July! 

Part 1: The Challenge

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anonymous asked:

21 & 106 with Andrew Garfield's Spider-Man x criminal!reader ? Thank you :D

21. “Don’t bleed on my floor.”

106. “Sometimes the only choices you have are bad ones, but you still have to choose.”

Sometimes, the only choices you have are bad ones. But, you still have to choose. For instance, right now, I was faced with an extremely difficult choice.

Spider-Man, the idiot, had injured himself, ironically, while saving me from an even bigger baddie. So now, I could either help him and bring my sworn enemy into my hideout or… Let the vigilante die and watch my center of operation crumble to the more destructive villains.

Well… I just hoped I wouldn’t regret this.

When Spider-Man woke, it was a bit hard to tell. In a moment of generosity, I left his mask on when I brought him back to my lair. However, it was a bit obvious when he gasped and sat up. I looked up from where I was preparing the medical stuff.

“Don’t bleed on my floor, Spidey.” He groaned in pain and turned to face me.

“It’s you… (Y/N) (L/N)…”

“Observant as well as super, congratulations.” I moved over to him and started patching him up.


“Just shut up and let me do this…”

There was a long pause.

“You’re… younger than I expected.”

That made me look up. “Yeah? Well…” I couldn’t think of a reply.

“You’re my age.” Slowly, he reached up to his mask.

“Hey, hey…” I reached up to stop him. “You don’t have to– Oh– Okay…” Halfway through my sentence, he managed to slip his mask off. And dang, he was handsome. Messy brown hair and dark puppy eyes… No, nope… definitely not going down that road.

“This is… unexpected, Spider-Man.”

He chuckled like that was an inside joke. “Yeah… a bit.” There was a pause. “Why do you live like this?”

I frowned. Nobody had ever really cared to ask before. “It’s not important, Spidey.”


“Why are you telling me this? You have no reason whatsoever to trust me.”

Spide– Peter gave me a small half smile. “You don’t remember me, but we went to highschool together.”

“Wait, wait, wait… Peter Parker?” Now I definitely remembered my highschool crush… Yikes, this was embarrassing. But I was just as shocked that he even knew I existed. Feeling like a kid again, I shifted in my seat.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Shaking my head, I finished bandaging him and stood. “Look, this reunion has been great and everything, but you really should go.”

“Right, right… I–” He cut off with a wince when he tried to stand.

I sighed heavily. “Fine… One night. And then you have to go.”

Chuckling, he nodded. “But I can still come and visit, right?”

“Just don’t arrest me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

What if in the next animal crossing (or happy home designer) game you could adjust the size, type, amount and placement of windows. Imagine having a wall with huge windows, or windows in the ceiling, or a cozy nook with a window that you could sit in front of, for instance. What if you could open your window to let in the sounds of rain or birds singing outside. Place stuff on the windowsills. Have long curtains that reach the floor. Imagine all the stuff you could do.

You’re my girl

Request from Anonymous: Can i ask for a scenario with Simon D where both of you went to a club to have a little fun but a male asked you to dance together and simon got mad and possessive. Thank youuuu! Ilysm

Enjoy!!!! :D 

“Hey [Y/N], I’m still stuck at work so let’s meet at the club later,” Simon suggested over the phone to you. 

“Aw, really? I hate turning to a club alone…” you whined. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll ask Hoody if she can meet you earlier. And what are you wearing later so that I can keep an eye out for?” 

“Hoody told me she’s not going tonight. She’s sick. Hmm I don’t know… I’m looking at my closet now… I might just wear my black skinny jeans and some top,” you told him.

“Oh that’s right. Hoody didn’t come to the meeting today and jeans to a club? Are you serious babe? You’ll look different from the other girls.” 

“Yeah so what? That way you can spot me easily. Also there isn’t a specific dress code for clubbing and I can’t be bother shaving my legs”.


You arrived at the club alone but the bouncer let you cut the line since he knows you’re Simon’s girl. The people waiting in line groaned as you entered the club before them. You went straight to the VIP section and greeted the members from DPR and Illionaire. Everyone was asking where the rest of the gang were but you honestly had no idea. 

You were mingling with the others but all they were talking about was music and you sort of felt left out. So you made you way to the bar and ordered a drink for yourself. As you took your first sip of the drink, your favorite song came on. It was an old school song and you loved it! You were just bobbing to the beat when a male figure came up and stood beside you.

“This is a great song, isn’t it?” he asked.

You nodded politely and took another sip of the drink. The bartender then came around and asked what the stranger wanted. 

“Same as hers, please.”

You looked at him confused. You have never seen a guy order the same type of drink as you.

“What?” he asked.

“Oh nothing..just surprised that you ordered the same as mine. No guy has ever done that,” you told him.

“Well I always like something different,” he replied back as he sat down beside you and took the drink off the bartender  “My name is Josh, what’s your name?”

“Nice to meet you, Josh and I’m [Y/N]”. And the both of clinked your glasses. 

Both of you finished your drinks in between talking about the most random things. Then another of your favourite song came on. 

“I really like this song. Wanna dance, [Y/N]?”

You were a bit hesitate seeing as Simon could come in any moment. But you looked at the VIP section and no members from AOMG were there. 


Josh followed behind you and once you got to the dance floor, you began to dance. Josh stood behind you and he mimicked your movements. You’re not a professional dancer but you did know how to move to each song beat and words. Josh saw how fluid your body was and he took every chance to pull you in closer and moved his hands up and down your body. The both of you were lost in the moment. 

Simon arrived at the club with the rest of the crew and he looked for you as he entered. Why could she be, he asked himself. He scanned the VIP section. You weren’t there. He scanned the bar. You weren’t there. He looked at the bathroom entry/exit for a while but didn’t see you. Where else could you be? Then he turned his head to the dance floor. He spotted you in an instance. You were wearing your black skinny jeans with a white crop top and you topped everything up with a pair of red heels. When he was about to walk up to greet you, he stood midway. Simon saw you saw you grinding on some guy. And that guy was doing the same. 

“Hey man, here’s yours,” Jay said as he handed you a shot. Simon took it the shot and he even took Jay’s shot off him. 

“What the fuck, man. I’m never getting you a drink again” Jay complained as he walked back to the VIP section. Simon didn’t follow him instead he took a seat at the bar, facing the dance floor. Simon ordered more shots, just for himself. At the same time, looking out to the dance floor. He noticed that you’re not grinding on him but you’re now facing the guy with your arms around his neck. Now Simon’s blood was fuming. He ordered more shots. His throat is starting to burn since he didn’t have a chaser. But he didn’t care.

Josh pulled you in closer to him and his arms were around you waist. 

“You’re a really good at dancing,” he applauded you.

You couldn’t help but blushed and returned the compliment with smile.

“I didn’t get the chance to ask you this before but are you here alone?” 

Shit, you thought. You were so in the moment that you forgot about your boyfriend. If Simon was here right now, he would so pissed and god knows, what is going to happen to your relationship if Simon had seen you. 

“I um I’m actually waiting for my boyfriend. I’m sorry, Josh. I didn’t mean to lead you on or anything. Sorry,” you said as you break away from his embrace and walked away. Josh was left on the dance floor speechless.

Shit. Shit. Shit, you thought. You were heading back to the VIP section but you saw Jay, Loco, Gray, Pumkin and Wegun but Simon wasn’t there. Shit. You checked your phone and there weren’t any calls or messages from Simon. 

You needed a drink so you head to the bar and guess you saw. Your boyfriend. Simon was staring at you as you walked towards him. 

“Hey….” was all that you managed to say when you came up to him. You know  from his facial expression that he saw everything

He simply ignored you and ordered a drink this time, not shots. 

“Baby…I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Please. Baby look at me”.

Simon scoffed. “Why were you dry humping a stranger from club? Did you forget that you were in a relationship with me? You know I would never do what you did.”

“I’m sorry. I was waiting for you and I got bored. The guys were talking about stuff that I wasn’t interested in. Josh then asked me if I wanted to dance and that’s all it was. We were just dancing.”

“Josh? Good to know it has a name. Right..just dancing.. It didn’t look like that from here, [Y/N].”

“Simon, don’t be rude and I apologised. Can you just forgive me? Please?”

You took a seat next to Simon and rested your chin on his shoulders. 

“Baby, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise. Plus his dancing skills aren’t as good as yours. And when he raised he arms, I could see his sweat stains. Ew.”

Simon couldn’t help but let out a smile. He knew that was your ultimate turn off. 

“I’m going to take that smile as a sign of forgiveness. Dance with me, handsome?”

Simon nodded and he took your hands and kissed them. Both of you got up and then you saw Josh. He was directly in front the two of you. 

“Oh hey, [Y/N]. This must be your boyfriend. Quite a shame but-”

You didn’t hear what Josh said because Simon turned your chin with his hand and then your lips met his. He kissed you hard enough to make you leaned back but Simon held onto you with his free hand. 

Simon allowed you to catch your breathe as he pulled away. 

“Wow..that kiss was something. What did I do to deserve that?”

Simon smirked. “Just wanted to make the stranger jealous. Let him know that he can’t have what I’ve got because you’re my girl.” 

“Ay don’t speak to me like I’m an object.” 

“You know what, babe? I think I’m still mad at you.”

“What? I thought you had forgiven me!”

“Yeah but that way you kissed me just then is making my um pants feel uncomfortable. If you know what I mean”

You looked down at his jeans and realised what he was talking about.

“Well that’s not my fault. You were the one who kissed me first. That’s your problem.”

“So I have to fix my own problem? You’re not going to help?”

You shook your head at him.

“Baby, when we get home and you can take my skinny jeans off in under 2 minutes then I’ll work on your problem all night.” 

“2 minutes?! I can’t do that. Those jeans are so hard to take off. They are stuck to you like glue!” 

You winked at him and headed to the VIP section to meet with the others. 

No Place for a Baby

***can you write an imagine where the reader only has her sister left and then her sister dies. nothing romantic has to happen just Carl comforting her***  

You squeezed your fists tighter and felt the small flakes of dried blood crunch in the folds of your skin. You blinked for what felt like the first time that day and looked at your jeans. Your lap was almost entirely caked in old blood that had dried hours ago. The material was stiff against your thighs. You looked at a hand. A small, soft hand with smooth skin. Little chubby fingers and wrinkles at her wrist.

Her eyes were dull now. They felt as if they were staring into your soul. Your life was gone. The one thing that kept you going was dead now, and you had no idea how you were going to go on from here. Your goals now meant nothing, and survival was on the very back of your mind.

You felt a hand slip around your upper arm and tug slightly. After you hadn’t responded to it for a few seconds, a second hand gripped your other arm from behind and pulled you up to stand. Your back hurt and your knees screamed at you for sitting in the same position for so long.

You were finding it a bit hard to stand, for you haven’t moved in so long. These hands guided you up the stairs, and an arm wrapped around your shoulders to keep you upright and moving. You turned into the bathroom and looked to your right into the mirror and saw Carl. He helped you sit on the closed toilet and started the bath water. This was odd, knowing that you two have never talked to each other deeper than stupid jokes and basic conversation.

He looked at you with sad eyes and kneeled. He took his hat off and set his hands on your upper arms again. You didn’t move as they moved lower and started pulling at the bottom of your tank top. You lifted your arms as he pulled it off and left you in your bra. After that, he unlaced your shoes and took them off along with your socks.He pulled your arms to help you stand and he unbuttoned your jeans.

You watched the top of his head and watched how his curls moved along with his movements as he tugged your jeans down and you stepped out of them.

You hiccuped and tears started collecting at your lashes once again. He watched you as he pulled you toward the bath tub and helped you into it. He sat on the side of the tub and used a cup to pour a bit of water in your hair. After the water reached just under your breasts, he stopped the faucet, and you listened to the droplets of water from the piping hit the still pool.

You sobbed quietly as he rinsed your blood-dried and dirt covered body and ran his hands softly over your skin. Your head was tilted upward and your hands sat in between your crossed legs. How you hated the feeling of the warm water surrounding your body, your stuffed nose, and the sound of water moving along with the boy beside you. These were things she could no longer experience. She was gone forever. Her existence; taken in an instance, depriving her of ever falling in love, finding a hobby to be passionate about, a favorite band, or trying something new that once terrified her. You would never hear that light chuckle or see that blush on her cheeks that appeared when the weather was too hot.

You were empty. The overwhelming disappointment and sorrow that took you over was too much to handle.


The room was getting darker by the minute as you sat alone on the hard living room floor. Your hands sat on your folded knees nimbly and your eyes were straining to see the pattern in the short carpet’s woven design in the dimming light.


You jumped slightly at the intrusion and didn’t move. You hadn’t even heard him enter. Your mind was in fog, but a frenzy all at once. Your senses buzzed, but you still felt numb. You were within yourself looking outward at a life that hurt too much.

“At least drink some water?” He knelt across from you and held a glass in his hand.

Your eyes slowly moved from his hand he had on the floor to steady himself, up his arm, and to his face. Here you were, being the biggest burden to someone you barely knew. Not once have you ever done anything nice for Carl, and here he is. This boy that you always saw from a distance and admired for the fire in his bright blue eye after every horror he had been through.

Carl raised the glass a bit and moved it toward you as an offering.

You felt your lip quiver and you leaned forward, arms moving past the glass, and threw yourself onto him, arms wrapping around his neck and face buried. You heard the glass hit the carpet, but it did not break. You felt the water at your foot.

Carl sat for a second before moving his arms around you and leaning his head against yours. Sobs overtook you as he held you, but his warmth and the tightness of his hold was everything you needed in that moment. 

I’m back! This is the first of a few I need to finish. Sorry if this one’s a bit lousy. I need to get back into writing. Anyway, feedback is appreciated!


In response to this request from @kpopfanfictrash:

Pairing: Yoongi/Reader
Words: 1.6k 

Is anyone even truly a person at 5:30 in the morning?  You’re quite certain that you aren’t and that no matter how many times you punch that alarm clock and throw yourself into the shower, you never will be.  Still, by 6:04, you’re dashing down the hallway, badly contained cup of coffee in one hand, purse in the other, makeup half assed simply so you feel human, and the most comfortable pair of flats you own on (the correct!) feet just to make it to the elevator so you won’t have to clamber down the stairs again.  You’ve just managed to get all the things in your hands straight when the doors whoosh gently open.  

And there he is.

Keep reading

Books and Butterflies

“Stop it.”

You blinked in surprise. Placing your book flat on your stomach you tilted your head back from where you lay on the floor of the console room, looking at the Doctor upside down. Your hair was spread out, framing your head with soft, curly tresses.

“Stop what?” you drew your eyebrows together. You had been perfectly quiet apart from the turn of a page every now and then.

The Doctor leaned on the left bannister that lead towards the Tardis doors, arms crossed and a frown marring his face. “Doing that thing you do. With your eyes and the,” he gestured roughly to his own face and then flung a hand in your direction, “that thing.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Thing? Oh, well I’m glad to see you think of my face as a thing.” you tutted. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Doctor.” you narrowed your eyes at him before returning to your position, shifting slightly to get more comfortable, your dress went a little askew. Lifting your book back up again, you started to reread the line you hadn’t got to finish. And it looked like you wouldn’t get the chance as the Doctor strode past you and snatched the book out of your hands.

“Oi!” you snapped in outrage and flipped over to your front, watching the Doctor flounce away with the last book in your favourite series. He had taken you to the release of the book earlier than your timeline because you had been whining so much about having to wait months for the next installment.

When he first refused to take you because it was ‘spoilers’, you had resorted to other more devious measures to convince him otherwise.For instance, non-stop talking about the book, kisses upon kisses peppered with a ‘pretty please’ whispered against his neck, little messages left on his psychic paper with promises you intended to fill if he broke the rules for you.

One night, the Doctor finally gave in. He regrets it.

“You’re so into these books, you haven’t even moved from the floor in hours. We’re in a time machine, Y/N! We could be on a distant undiscovered alien planet right now and instead you want to live vicariously through the adventures between pages.” He flipped the book one way then the other with a miserable pout on his face.

Keeping your temper to a minimum, you slammed both hands on the floor, pushed up and pulled your knees forward to stand up. Brushing your dress off unnecessarily, you stormed off to the door that lead deeper into the Tardis.

The Doctor watched you leave with a bewildered face and then slapped a hand to his forehead and sighed. Dragging his hand down, he held the book open in one hand and started to trudge after you. “Oh, come on, Y/N, I didn’t mean to say that reading was bad! I loved the Harry Potter series, I read the 7th book before anyone else! JK is a fabulous woman.” The Doctor turned a corner, figuring that you must have gone back to the library. “I just get bored when I know there’s so many adventures we haven’t been on yet. There’s so much I want to show you. So much we haven’t had chance to experience and eat and see-” he suddenly collided into something soft.

You almost fell back into the never-ending library behind you if not for the Doctors hands that flew to you, gripping you around your waist. The book you had been reading was lightly pressed into your back, still open. He gave you an apologetic smile hoping to smooth over any hurt he may have caused. He knew that if you really wanted him to, he would sit in the library all day whilst you read. He would find something to entertain himself with.. maybe upgrading his screwdriver.

“Listen, you get comfy, I’ll go and make us some tea and sandwiches and we’ll have a whole day in here!” an arm swung from one side to the other behind you, gesturing to the entire library. Your eyes softened and you placed a hand on his chest as you smiled up at him.

“I love that you would stay indoors for me, but I have a better idea. Meet me down in the console room in 10 minutes.” You spun the both of you around and carried on walking down the corridor. Before you got too far, you threw a comment over your shoulder. “And don’t lose my page.” you held a finger up in the air in warning.

The Doctor stood in the doorway of the library, quite thoroughly confused. And a little bit excited.


In 10 minutes time, you walked into the console room with a bag in one hand and another book in the other. “Right, come on. Let’s go to that grassy picnic island you told me about on that Butterfly planet.” You dropped the bag just under the console and held onto the bars, bracing yourself for the inevitable bumpy ride.

The Doctor grinned at you, thrilled you remembered his mindless chatter about other planets he wanted to take you to. Running around to flip, switch and hit all the necessary buttons, balls and levers, you landed in seconds. “Okay!” The Doctor held up two fists in celebration, then clapped and rubbed them together in excitement. Turning around and speeding towards the door, he opened one for you and waited with a Cheshire grin.

“Let’s get our picnic on!”

Rolling your eyes and fighting a smile, you shouldered your bag and walked over to him.

The Doctor grimaced as he thought over his words. “I shouldn’t ever say that again, should I?”

You patted his chest as you strode past him. “No, dear.”


Laying out a deep blue cotton blanket and chucking your bag down, you knelt on the ground and started to empty out its contents. Chocolate buttons, strawberries, water bottles, mini rolls, grapes, cheesy bread sticks and a pillow from your bed. The Doctor spun around to gaze at the scenery, looking as small as an insect amongst the towering trees. His bright eyes landed on you setting out a feast, he smiled softly, his face transforming into that of a besotted man.

Strolling back over, he plonked down next to you and placed a long kiss on your cheek. You chuckled at his antics.

“You’re so cute.” You said through puckered lips.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows up and down twice looking amused. Leaning back on his elbows he closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of freshly cut grass, your book still in his hand, a thumb keeping your page.

In the afternoons, the breeze here always smelled like freshly cut grass and buttercups, and the Sun was always shining and warm, but not stifling. A nearby lake provided the gentle melody of trickling water and splashing fish, and the tall trees dotted around whispered as their leaves brushed up against one another. Tranquil. Perfect for picnics.

A large orange and black butterfly landed on your bare shoulder and fluttered its wings as you puffed up the pillow to put at one end of the blanket.

“Lie down Doctor, I’ve got something that’s going to ruin you.” the Doctor ears went red and his mind went wild, he tried his best to keep his face from giving away his thoughts.

“And no, it’s not what you’re thinking. Not yet anyway.” You winked at him saucily. The Doctor covered up his squeak with a manly cough and lied down on the blanket, his head on one side of the purple pillow. The butterfly on your shoulder delicately flapped away before you flopped down next to him, your head taking up the other half of the pillow.

You pressed the book you brought into his hand. “Read it, then you’ll understand.”

The Doctor lifted up the book to look at the cover, it was the first in the series you were reading. His eyes shifted to you, and then he sighed dramatically.

“If I read 100 pages, will you promise to come away with me somewhere, anywhere?” he put the book down and held out his little finger, attempting to bargain with you.

You smiled devilishly as you linked yours with his and shook it slightly. “Of course, Doctor. That’s if you can pull yourself away.” He scoffed and childishly mimicked you as he gave you back your book and opened the first page of his.


The sky had bloomed with colours, now resting on a pink and orange sunset that reached the far edges of the island. In the evenings, the island had a light fragrance of jasmine and vanilla. The planets many butterflies were scattered across the grass and trees, every few inches there would be another one fluttering slowly, as if powering down for the night.

The strawberries were gone, along with the breadsticks and chocolate buttons. The Doctor was now popping grapes into his mouth as he turned to page 452.

You had long finished your book and were now twisted towards him, your hand on his stomach, your leg between his, your head on his shoulder. His arm had to wrap around your neck to keep his book open, squishing you closer. Your eyes were closed as you listened to the soothing rhythm of his hearts pump away.

“So did you want to go on that adventure then?” you muttered, blindly tracing a finger over a button on his jacket.

“Hmm?” the Doctor responded, never taking his eyes off the page. “Oh, adventure, right. Yes, let’s get on that. I’ll just finish this chapter then we can go.”

You smiled and pecked his chin. “Of course, dear.”


A/N: I originally was writing this with 10 in mind, however as I continued it started to sound more and more like 11! 

I have a POTC fic in my drafts, waiting for editing. I saw POTC 5 today and I’m sorry to say I was bitterly disappointed. ): Jack didn’t act like Captain Jack Sparrow, Salazar could have been an amazing villain but the 6 other unnecessary storylines took over. I won’t go into details as I don’t want to spoil it for anyone, but I’m basically going to pretend it didn’t happen. For those of you going to see it, apparently there’s something after the credits. I left before, and tbh i’m not even bothered. 

Tag List: @chrisevansthedoritobastard

MPGIS Episode 19.1 Weekend At Katya's (TRIXYA)~ Mistress

A/N: To the thirsty Trixya shippers who just came to the fic, welcome. You don’t have to have read the entire fic to understand this. The summary gives you everything you need to know.

To the loyal readers who also watched the show, this was originally gonna be a bonus episode, but then I realized I’d planned for ‘Date Night’ to involve Katya, her boyfriend, and Trixie anyway, as opposed to Willam and three background characters I don’t give a fuck about in the fic. I’ve been beta-ing and that takes a lot of time, so I’m more behind on my fic writing than I’d like.

This fic was too long for my taste to be a single chapter so I’m pulling a Harry Potter and splitting this one into parts. Whatever, you want me to just get to it, so here we go.

Summary: Katya and Trixie are members of rival cheer squads, but have forged a secret connection behind the backs of their teams. When Trixie has a stressful afternoon and comes home to an empty house,  there’s one girl she turns to for companionship and (Trixie hopes!) a little more.

Keep reading

Title: 3 What-If’s I’ll Never Tell You

Prompt: 3 things a will never tell b 

Pairing: One-sided Ryuji/Akira

By: Admin

Ryuji wasn’t the thinking type. Others have said this of him, and he can’t help but agree. He’d always seen things as they were presented on the surface, unless a gut feeling had told him otherwise. 

He did or said what he felt was right, in the moment, even if it came back to bite his ass later – though he rarely thought that far ahead.

He lacked tact even when he tried his best to have it.

He didn’t put consideration into his actions or spend ample time making plans. He didn’t play with theories or attempt to wrap his head around complex anything procedures. Yet, for someone who wasn’t the thinking type, for some reason, he often pondered “what-if’s”.

Perhaps a tad too much. It stupefied even himself.

It was because of thoughts like these he realized there was more to himself than just the brainless banter he showed to his teammates; mostly Morgana, in point. That cat just had a way of nagging his mouth into action. 

There were many what-if’s swimming about Ryuji’s head, in total.

Yet the first three, all held one thing in common…

Ryuji glanced at Akira a moment.

1.     What if I’d never met him?

Kamoshida had been a devil staring him down in a crossroads for a long time. Ever since he’d shown up, Ryuji had made blunder after blunder, mistake after mistake, and in the wake of each he’d drowned deeper and deeper in regret. It was like he was sinking to the bottom of a marsh and Kamoshida was presenting him a pole he could only do two things with:

Submit to me, grab on.

Defy me, pummel further down.

If he had done the former, Kamoshido would no doubt have beat him raw with the prop he’d saved him with to make sure Ryuji knew his place – below Kamoshida, one way or another; whether it was gasping for breath on the floor or suffocating in an abyss further below made no difference.

Those had been his only two options for a long time, and eventually, he’d lost sight of the surface. No longer could he grab for the purchase, even if he wanted to, but Kamoshida still taunted him with it.

There had been so many – too many – instances where he’d wanted to snatch the pole and pummel Kamoshida silly with it, damn the consequences. Let him beg, let him bleed, let him feel the pain of his bones shattering under each blow.

And yet…

“What kind of mother are you, letting your son turn out this way?”

“Where’s your pride as a parent?”

“If it’s too hard raising him by yourself, then get married already – Lord knows a decent father figure would fix all the problems you obviously failed to.” 

“God. It’s like you’re not even trying to raise him properly.”

… the memory of his mother being barraged by the school faculty’s insults froze him in place everytime. The stillness in her shoulders when it happened, and the sound of pure disapointment in herself she made when they got home He could not, would not, do that to her ever again. And so, he continued to trickle deeper and deeper into his own hell; succumbing, and utterly alone. 

At least, that used to be the case. 

“…Pervert?” the teen gave him a straight look with a matching flat tone.

The case before Akira Kurusu appeared. It was as if the all-black muck of the abyss had been set aflame the moment he met him—

–and a path was slowly burning its way from the surface.

It took a while for Ryuji to realize the sudden shift, however. Nearly being killed by black masses in armor, meeting a talking cat, screaming from the pain of accepting his true self and deciding to rebel 

–it had all distracted him from realizing the gradual release of tension in his chest.

Until, once it was all seemingly over, he found himself breathing in clear air and feeling the sweet, sweet burn and, Akira holding his life-line with his secret smirk Ryuji had only just started to get glimpses of.

If he had never met Akira – he…

If another group had become the Phantom Thieves, he would have been okay. There was no doubt he would have continued to live on.

But he couldn’t see himself spending the rest of his life genuinely happy or excitement buzzing him out of bed every day like a rechargeable battery if that had been the case, like he was in the present.

Akira jumped small-ly when Ryuji settled an arm on his nearest shoulder and grinned placidly.  “Something wrong?”

Ryuji leaned to the opposite direction, but kept his arm on Akira’s shoulder. “Morgana ate my cod, but I’m not thaaaaat pissed.”

“That’s new,” Akira said blandly but with that undertone of mirth. “Who are you, and what have you done with—“

“Nope, nope, that’s definitely Ryuji. No one else can pull off that I’m too cool for school, cool with a k, hairstyle,” snickered Futaba maliciously from across the table.

“You little crab, I swear I’m gonna—“

“Don’t burn him too much,” Akira mumbled well enough to be heard. “I’d prefer not to carry my best friend’s ashes in an urn.”

Ann shook her head. “Why would you even keep his ashes…?”

“I’ve heard you can sell ashes for a lot of money on Ebay,” offered Makoto.

“Joker!” Morgana hissed suddenly. “Sell Ryuji’s ashes and get me another fatty tuna roll!”

Ryuji gasped and began calling everyone at the table traitors at the top of his lungs, when the second most prevalent what-if came to mind.

2.     What-if he hadn’t been my first best friend?

People develop a multitude of relationships in life. Some temporary, some distant, some frivolous, some deep. Ryuji had no friends in elementary, because that was when his dad was still around and the bruises were difficult to hide; the mental ones even more-so.

In middle school, it was slightly less barren. He had met Ann, and talked to her somewhat, but there were also other boys who likes manga as much as he did.

Some of them were later even members of the track team in high school – until Kamoshida appeared like a demon summoned from a sacrificial ritual. It was the abuse his teammates and he had suffered from Kamoshida that had brought them closer together. But unlike the day his father left his mother and him, when he screwed up and sucker-punched the coach and in-turn forfeited the future of the team, they ostracized him.

The only thing he had left after rehab for his leg was his sense of justice… and that only isolated him further.

In all the time before that, Ryuji hadn’t had someone he’d ever call his best friend. Before Akira, his mother alone held that title, and Ryuji never did nor never would feel embarrassed for it.

Yet it felt like a completely different experience, his friendship with Akira. Akira was quiet, more mature, and he didn’t have that feminine charm or adult mannerisms his mother did. They had shared interests and their conversation were intriguing – no one else shared his love the villains in manga, sadly. They got along exceedingly well and Ryuji felt as comfortable around Akira as he did in his own skin. It was odd, calming, and completely alien to Ryuji.

And because of this, he couldn’t help the swell of fear in his abdomen at the thought of their relationship never having took form.

Yet at the forefront of his thoughts…  

This last one was technically not a what-if – but it was. It really, really was. Not in its statement, but in its circumstance. If Ryuji had accepted his feelings sooner. If Ryuji had gotten over his ignorance. If Ryuji hadn’t stopped to think for once and had instead followed his gut like always. If Ryuji had pursued that tingling sensation he felt in his very blood whenever Akira touched him…

She might not be the one sitting there.

3. I love you.

Ryuji’s gaze fell to their Leader’s lap when Akira put an arm around Makoto. He nonchalantly let his arm fall back to his side.

Ryuji would never tell Akira any of these three what-if’s, but he would do what he could to treasure them.

“Everyone,” Haru interrupted out of the blue. “What song are they playing? I like it.”

“Ann, you’re the one who speaks English. Time to shine.”

“Um, sorry, but country isn’t really my thang.”

“Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad by Meatloaf,” said Akira quietly.

It was odd, since he couldn’t understand a lick of what came from the diner’s speakers, but for some reason… 

Ryuji couldn’t agree more. 

anonymous asked:

love your blog <333 could you do the brothers + side guys (sorry if it's too much but they need more love) reacting to mc acting unintentionally sexy? for example when she bends over to pick up something or when it's hot and she unbuttons her shirt to fan self or when she plays with her hair, stuff like that. take your time if you need to!

Ooooh, can I do like a standard scenario the brothers + side guys would catch MC in? Probably in an instance where she’s just dropped a plate on the ground and she’s scrambling to pick up the pieces off the floor, and when she bends over her uniform is just a bit too short so they get a peek at her cute lil undies?


  • quickly comes to help you pick up the fragments and makes sure that you’re okay
  • smirks when he can see your underwear
  • cozies himself up behind you and rests his hands at your waist
  • “Do you wear those cute things for me?”
  • Murmurs softly into your ear when you stand from picking fragments
  • confused when you shove him away??? and cover your face?


  • cue big brother toma mode immediately
  • quickly moves to cover you with a blanket and hide your body
  • “If it was any of the other brothers, what do you think they would’ve done to you?”
  • looks like we’re gonna be finding that out today toma, aren’t we?
  • quickly moves you away from the fragmented pieces and quick to check your body for any shards 


  • just would make comments on your underwear
  • you’d be really confused though like?? what is this boy even talking abt
  • but each time you reach down to pick up another fragment he just
  • wolf whistles at you bc lmao
  • looks at your cute lil buttcheeks affectionately


  • would be so quick to tease you honestly
  • after he’s helped picked up a few of the fragments he’d probably
  • lift up the bottom of your dress and play with your butt and squeeze it
  • Now that that’s broken, maybe I should punish you hmmm?”
  • keeps fondling your butt and probably slides his fingers under the hem and teases at your skin
  • but nope you’re working so you just slap his hands away lol


  • probably just really mad that you broke something initially
  • and in the process of yelling at you from the piano he’s just
  • heavily blushing because your panties have cute lil doggos on them
  • and the fact that he can see them too LOL
  • distracts himself at the piano and just pretends that it doesn’t happen
  • but still probably thinks about it a lot after like oh god that just happened


  • doesn’t mention anything about it,
  • maybe even just makes a comment that the uniforms at the hotel were too short and that he’d need to have a talk with toma about it
  • “Be more careful with things, or you might get hurt.”
  • But that’s a double entendre because
  • he’s prob gonna wreck you in bed the next time that happens


  • he’s already seen your butt lbr LMAO
  • you modeled those bras for him, probably underwear in the process
  • talks about how cute your butt is instead of actually doing anything
  • “Ahh, your butt is so much cuter when it’s not behind the camera! I want to squeeze it, pleaseeee~?”
  • you’re just really surprised because??? what the hell is he talking about???
  • and then you realise and you just probably throw a pan at him that’s on top of the kitchen stove LOL


  • probably very bashful but okay this guy
  • openly admits he’s attracted to you and would want to date you
  • but he’s like damn look at that ass let me get some
  • probably teases you about it too lol
  • “You know it’s not very concierge-like to flaunt your undergarments in that way.”
  • Sticks his tongue out at you playfully and makes motions for you to pull your dress down

the other day i was mopping @ work and this bitch and her ugly rat children come in and one kind of distanced herself but followed me mopping and decides to try to slip on the water like i watched her make the decision to slip in it and she catches herself and runs to her mom like “MOM I ALMOST SLIPPED” and the mom got all angry like “WHERE ARE THE WET FLOOR SIGNS” well. they were everywhere. legit 2 by the entrance (which i was mopping as they came in so they saw me) and then scattered everywhere. if i wanted to i could of gotten the camera footage of her gremlin stalking me and deciding to pretend slip. i hate having to force customer service smiles in those instances like why cant people admit theyre the problem


Reader X John X Michael

(GIFs not mine, credit goes to the creators)

The Peaky Blinders warn you that this imagine contains strong language.

A/N - I have included some dialogue from S3ep01 but I’ve altered it to fit the situation. I hope this is cool with everyone :)

Standing at the table where one of Tommy’s maids were pouring glasses of wine, you picked up a glass as you watched John saunter over to you wearing a flirtatious grin he saves just for you. It was Tommy’s wedding day and you were invited as a friend of the family, not only were you invited by Tommy and Grace but you were also asked as a date by both John and Michael. However you gently declined both of them for fear of causing further tension between them both. It was true that you did hold more feelings for John but until you were sure you thought it was best to not encourage either of them.

“Hey (Y/N) how’s it going?” John said as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’m good thanks, the wedding was beautiful wasn’t it.” You said blushing as you looked down at the floor.

“Yeah it was but not as beautiful as you’re looking right now.” John replied as you looked up and locked eyes with him. In that instance there was an undeniable connection and you knew you both felt it. The moment was however interrupted by Michael coughing, you and John were so fixated on one another that you failed to see Michael approach.

“(Y/N) do you fancy talking a walk in the gardens with me.” Michael asked choosing to ignore John.

Before you could answer John interjected. “No she doesn’t, as you can see she’s talking to me so go fuck off elsewhere!”

“I don’t recall asking you Johnny Boy.” Michael quipped back as they closed in on one another, getting so close that they almost looked as if we’re going to clash heads.

“Calm down the pair of you, I’m not going anywhere with anyone so quit it now.” You pleaded as you attempted to separate them.

“RIGH’ BOYS, KITCHEN, IN 2 MINUTES.” Shouted Tommy from somewhere in the room.


“Alrigh’ boys, you’re all here.” Tommy said as he stood amongst the hustle and bustle of the kitchen surrounded by the rest of the Peaky Blinders including John and Michael. “Today is my fuckin’ wedding day, now for Grace’s sake nothing will go wrong, those bastards out there are her family and if any of you fuckers do anything to embarrass her; your kin, your cousins, your fuckin’ kids. If any of you do anything, now that includes; no sport, no racing, no telling fortunes and NO FUCKIN’ fighting over that goddamn woman!” Tommy growled as he walked over to John and Michael pointing a finger of accusation.

“Yes John, Yes Michael I’m looking at you. I’m sick of you John getting all jealous like a sodding child while you go fuckin’ winding him up Michael. Don’t you boys think I didn’t see you arguing just now. I suggest you fight amongst yourselves in your own time and not on MY FUCKIN’ WEDDING DAY!” Tommy shouted as he slapped John and Michael around the head.