I might have a southern drawl but how should I know

AU where instead of going to Samwell, Jack starts a widely successful Publicly Broadcast show for children.

Jack learns that he is great with kids after coaching them for a little over two years. Moreover, kids are good with Jack. There is no pressure to be anything other than who he is.

It all starts with a local news program doing a fluff piece on Jack Zimmermann’s coaching ability. But then it turned into something completely different when Jack skated onto camera and started to introduce every single one of his kids and what was special about them. He was…really enchanting actually. He didn’t ever really talk down to them. Jack just treated them as a tiny friend. 

They ARE his tiny friends, but that’s not the point. 

The footage they got of “snack time” was really the best. Imagine a good 16 kids piled around this massive man teaching them the best way to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. 

 It should have been obvious that a local channel would contact him. It still surprises Jack. They want him to host a show? Why? Everyone always teased him about how impersonable he was during interviews. Is it because he’s Jack Zimmermann’s son? Or Alicia’s? 

Jack asks all of these questions to his mother and she just laughs. “You made a PB&J interesting to 16 kids just by being you”

Jack figures it wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot. 

Keep reading

Shower Head

One of the fics for the drabble request thing. Once again I smooshed a lot of promts together and once again I went overboard, but who cares bc this is cute as shit

3- I don’t want your pity, want your absence/ 15- That’s the prefect example of how not to do things/ 20- It’s 8am, I’m hung over, and you’re annoying/ 33- I’d ask you to stay, but I don’t like you/ 36- everything was fine before you showed up/ 49- It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself.

@tryingandfailing @cutecrazyandrandom @menaceanon @isoooooooodontcare 

Requests are closed rn

Keep reading

Eight Legs & Eight Arms (Poly!Southern DR’s x Reader)

Title: Eight Legs & Eight Arms

Pairing: Poly! Southern DR’s x Reader

Word Count: 2389

Request: “Could I possibly request poly!demo-reps x reader where y/n just moved in next door and they, like, smiled at her or something and she goes to them to ask them to kill the giant spider in her kitchen and makes them dinner as thanks, but then it sort of turns into a dinner date, and lots of fluff plz.”

A/N: It was a little more than a smile, but hey, why not? (Also, unrelated gif bc everyone deserves this in their lives.)

Originally posted by wegotitmadeintheshade

Keep reading

burkygirl  asked:

Our absolutely amazing pal and fellow smutketeer @peetabreadgirl has a birthday on February 23rd. @xerxia31 and I were wondering if you'd be willing to accept a submission from us in her honoUr?

Originally posted by freshcravings

Happy Birthday @peetabreadgirl! By special request, Here’s a birthday drabble crafted just for you!

Biggest Fan

AN – Happy Birthday PBG! This is part 1 of 2 because your birthday is too special to cram all into one day!

Mesdames et messieurs, votre attention s’il vous plaît. Les passagers de la vol Air Canada 8637 arrivent à la gare vingt-quatre.

Peeta Mellark bobs up on the balls of his feet, eager to see around the crowd of tired commuters coming in on the flight from Montreal to Quebec city. Just a few more minutes and he’ll finally lay eyes on the infamous KatsEye, the best beta in the Avengers fandom.

And his best friend. Possibly the love of his life, but hey, he figures he probably should lay eyes on her in real life before he declares his undying devotion.

The crowd is thinning a bit now as the business crowd moves toward the airport doors, a sea of suits and muttered French. He checks his phone. Her text had said she was near the back of the plane. Surely she’ll be out soon.

Kat<3: I’m wearing an orange sweater.

When he looks up again, he sees her coming through the gate. Her aviator glasses are perched on her head and her hair is tied up in a side braid that spills over her shoulder onto the gorgeous coral sweater she’s wearing. It causes her olive skin to glow even though he can tell she’s not wearing a stitch of makeup.

His artistic sensibilities practically giggle at the idea that she’d consider the shade to be orange. It’s softer, more muted; kind of like a sunset at the end of a sultry summer’s day.

Regardless, it’s his new favourite colour.

Keep reading

Writing On The Wrist: Bones/Reader

For @frostingsfics
This got long, so I’ll do a second chapter

“Looks like someone’s cranky today,” you sighed, as the writing on your wrist flowed in a stream of invectives. Whoever you soulmate was, he had a very extensive and colorful vocabulary.

“If you had to deal with James T. Kirk everyday, you’d be cranky too!” Came the writing again.

You’d started seeing it show up soon after you joined the Enterprise for the five year mission and thus a strange form of drawn out flirting had begun. The man had been very reluctant to even have a soulmate in the first place, so you’d both agreed not to give out personal information until you both were comfortable with the connection. You enjoyed dropping occasional hints every so often to see if he’d pick up on them.

“Good thing I’m on Gamma shift then. Good night. Computer, lights off.”

You snuggled under your covers with a smile, wondering what he’d do with this new tidbit of information.

You had heard of the soulmate writing, but yours hadn’t shown up for an unusually long time and when it did, it surprised you.

“Five years in space. God help me,“You saw appearing on your wrist that day the Enterprise leapt into warp to start the five year mission.

“Don’t sound so excited.” You said out loud, secretly thrilled at what it signified.

“Who are you and what is this??” Came the writing. You started and flushed, realizing that your words had been seen in his end.

“Um, I think this means we’re soulmates.”

There was nothing for several minutes than a simple “There must be a mistake. I don’t do relationships.”

Ouch. Well, that wasn’t a good sign.

“Why not?” You said cautiously.

“I’m horrible at them, that’s why. The ex took the whole planet in the divorce. There’s no way I’m putting myself through that again.”

“So, you’re just going to ignore the connection?” You replied, heart sinking.

“Yes. Don’t believe in fate anymore.”

“Too bad,” you managed. “Sorry for inconveniencing you.”

After that, you pushed your sleeve over your wrist and did your best to utterly ignore any more writing, inwardly crushed over the rejection. You’d waited years for this?

Much as you wanted to never see the writing again, you couldn’t help but watch sometimes to see what the man was like. You figured out that he was definitely alpha shift due to the writing being mostly absent during your shift.

Judging by the stream of medical jargon, you managed to gather that he was a doctor, a very stressed one most of the time and some days, didn’t appear to sleep at all. Also, You couldn’t count how many times “Dammit, Jim!” appeared and guessed he was often around the captain.

“Poor guy” you thought.

After a few months of this weird avoidance dance, you were eating supper in the mess and poured out your woes to Nyota Uhura, a fellow communications officer that you really admired, but didn’t get to see much.

“So, whoever he is doesn’t want anything to do with me and it’s really frustrating.” You told her.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Do you know who he is?”

“No. I promised I wouldn’t pry. Being able to see whatever he says feels invasive enough. However, I’m sure he’s a doctor and works Alpha shift. Also, he swears a LOT, particularly at the captain.”

At these words, Nyota’s face lit up and she smiled excitedly.

“Do you know who it is?” You asked, coming to full alert at her knowing expression.

“I think I do,” she grinned. “If it is who I think it is, you’ve got a very good man as your soulmate. He really is jaded, though, especially when it comes to women. I could put in a good word for you, if you like.”

“Maybe subtly, but it probably won’t do any good. He can’t stand the thought of me.”

You looked down. “That’s not true,” appeared suddenly. “I’m just really bad at this.”

“Couldn’t hurt to try. Maybe you’ll run into him one of these days and he’ll see just what he’s missing.”

She winked encouragingly at you and you mustered up a smile as she went to rejoin Spock.

“I hope you’ll give me a chance one of these days,” you said out loud. “You sound like a good guy.”

“And you’re way too good for me, but I’ll think about it. I’m guessing you’re in communications, because half the time, I have no idea what the writing even means.”

“You’re right, mysterious doctor,” you replied. “And when you’re ordering your staff around, it’s like a foreign language to me, so we’re even.”

There was a pause and you wondered if he was laughing and what his laugh sounded like.

“I admit, I’ve never been called mysterious before. Kinda like it. I’m usually known for being very transparent in my mannerisms.”

You chuckled at that.

“That’s very obvious. Good thing the Captain likes you.”

“He has a healthy fear of me, too.”

After that “chat”, the ice was broken and the two of you consciously took time to talk the times you were going on/getting off shift. You learned that he had a delightful sarcastic sense of humor and a definite Southern drawl that came through when he was in certain moods.

You were just at the point where you were going to exchange names when you came down with a bug in the middle of your shift and were sent back to your quarters to rest.

You slept fitfully for awhile, but woke up with horrible nausea and ended up puking your guts out in between bouts of chills and fever. It got to the point where you knew you needed Medbay, but just couldn’t get the strength to get there.

“Help. I’m sick.” You croaked out to your wrist, hoping he’d see it and wasn’t too busy.

“What’s wrong?” appeared seconds later and you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Fever and chills plus horrible vomiting. Even water won’t stay down,” you informed weakly, shuddering as a wave of dizziness passed over you.

“Can you get to Medbay or should I come get you?”

“I think I’m gonna need hauled there. This is really bad.”

You hated admitting this, but you had never been so sick and you were honestly scared. You knew your soulmate would understand.

“Okay. Where are your quarters?”

You spoke the location as clearly as possible and huddled back under the blankets. Miserable as you were, your pulse quickened with anticipation of finally seeing and hearing your soulmate for the first time.

It wasn’t long before you heard the door chime and spoke the command to open it.

A tall man in medical blue came in with a hover stretcher and approached your bed with tricorder in hand.

“Lieutenant Y/N, Y/L/N?” He asked you, already looking you up and down with a doctor’s eye. You liked that voice right away. It was deep and rich and soothing.

“I might as well own up to it,” you answered, with an attempt at a smile. “No point in secrecy anymore.”

“Right,” the doctor smiled sheepishly. “I’m Dr. Leonard McCoy, in case you hadn’t already figured it out.”

You gaped as he began to scan you with the tricorder.

“Really?” You squeaked. “The Doctor McCoy, famous captain wrangler, genius surgeon and CMO rumored to possess legendary hands?”

He sighed and shook his head, face flushing a bit.

“You forgot stubborn mule, bitter divorcee and well-known aviophobe,” he added, looking at his tricorder. He frowned and pulled out a hypo.

“You’ve got the new flu but that’s going around. Sickbay’s been flooded with cases, but yours might require a longer stay. You’re pretty dehydrated and that fever is really high. I’m going to give you something for that, then we’ll get you to Sickbay, okay?”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off of him. You wished you had met him under better circumstances, because good heavens he was attractive and you were a complete wreck at the moment.

The hypo was gently administered and you scooted to the edge of the bed so he could help you onto the stretcher. Strong arms lifted you and you were settled onto it and strapped in neatly. You planned to watch him all the way to Medbay, but your exhausted body had other ideas and you fell asleep mid transit.

Tagging as many Bones fans as I can remember.

Emergency Room

Member: Chanyeol

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

Synopsis: A late-night mishap lands you and an unexpected guest a visit to the emergency room. 

Keep reading

Speed Date W/Okada

Originally posted by wrestlingsmarkmatty

This is a little short but I needed to update this series. I have plans for a longer second date Okada fic once I finish the first round of these. I can’t remember who recommended I write Okada with Gedo in this but whoever you are, THANK YOU. This was so much fun to write and I honestly can’t wait to write more of these two.

Part One w/Kenny Omega - Part Two w/Adam Cole

Tags: @daintymissdevitt @waynscastle @sarahmatthews7 @shadow-of-wonder @happiness-in-reznor @tooweirdforlifex @fan-fiction-galore @omgmissmillie @thedeboniardevistation @jazzytoosweet @mindsetcalamity @alexispoo @mermaidfett @thathpchick @skyrina @laziestgirlintheworld @ang-78 @valeonmars @laigy2213 @squirrel666 @brooklyns-scumbag @megan-monroe @wweximaginesxd @lclb13 @phlebotomyprincess1 @awkward-potato-imagines @effy-christine @pjanina13 @fearlessflawlessdior @wrestlingnoob @fandom-preferences-imagines @superkixbaybay @wrasslin-x @xxmaddhatter39xx @legitlunatic @wrestlingfeels @sleeplessandcynical @cosmicswimming @alexahood21 @betsy-bradock @gypsophil-a @abominablestrowman279 @balorsomega

Keep reading

There’s a Certain Slant of Light, Ch. 1

Based on this post by @gutsybitsies. Title taken from the poem of the same name by Emily Dickinson. No actual Stanley Cups were harmed in the process of writing this fic (please suspend your disbelief; I know the keepers of the Cup would never permit such blasphemies as occur in this first chapter. Thank you for your patience. :))

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine; all credit goes to ngoziu.

ETA: Now also found on ao3!

There’s a certain slant of light,
On winter afternoons,
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes.

Kent Parson peers down at the Stanley Cup with considerable distaste. Sticky brown caramel is stuck to the rim, and the metal is shiny with oil from the leftovers of the popcorn from Swoops and Mags’s date night—which, like, good for them, Kent had liked every one of their photos on Instagram, but to not have the decency to wash it out afterwards? He thought better of them, he really did.

“Isn’t there a rule or something to prevent this type of blatant desecration?” he complains to Richards, the representative/so-called “keeper” of the Cup from the Hockey Hall of Fame, since the actual Trustees of the Cup are both pushing ninety and can’t be bothered to follow a fancy metal trophy around the world on its adventures with hyped-up jocks.

Richards gives him a look. His eyes are dark and a mix of slightly haunted and completely done with this shit. It’s a look that tells Kent loud and clear that he has Seen Things. “You’re a hockey player,” he says. “You’ve done this before. What do you think?”

Kent grimaces. “But isn’t it common courtesy not to leave clean-up to the next guy?”

“Jeffrey Troy said, and I quote, ‘It’s payback, bitch,’” Richards says, completely deadpan.

Keep reading

worth it (1/3)

zimbits,~4k, buzzfeed au where they’re both tasked to do a video that’s similar to the Worth It series with Andrew and Steven. why? because johnson.

read on ao3

Jack has been working at the desk next to Eric Bittle’s for the better part of three months now.

Over those three months, he’s become quite acquainted with the character of his blonde neighbor. He’s now familiar with his small, lithe frame, is quite aware that he can fold his legs into a pretzel even in his swivel chair, and knows when he’s approaching by the scent of butter and sickeningly sweet coffee. He’s well acquainted with his warm Southern tendencies, the subtle drawl over his vowels and the abundant y’alls in every sentence. He knows he always places his coffee to his left, though he’s right handed, he likes to write schedules and reminders on sticky notes that fall off of his computer screen and onto Jack’s own desk every-so-often, and that he has a soft spot for Chris Chow, the intern he’s been supervising these past few weeks. He’s even vaguely aware of his amazing pie skills, having tasted some of his baked goods because oh, no, Mr. Zimmermann, you haven’t lived until you’ve tried this, and because they’re ever-present in the snack room beside the plethora of cereals. And also because Eric Bittle has become somewhat of a Youtube celebrity, and everybody and their grandmother knew he was a pie-making prodigy.

God knows why he was placed next to Bittle in the first place. Sure, they were both executive video producers for Tasty—Jack for much longer than him, for sure—but Jack very much preferred to stay behind the camera while Bittle was usually in front of it. Jack mostly liked to keep to himself, anyway, and if he worked in teams, it was usually with Shitty or Lardo on the more artistically demanding videos. They’d been at brainstorms together, almost every other week, really, but never really collaborated on anything. There was also the glaring fact that Bittle tended to mindlessly chatter, and Jack was practically allergic to any and all forms of small talk. Most days, he was just grateful Bittle was so busy, he rarely spent long hours at his own desk.

But he and Bittle sat next to each other everyday, give or take, usually minding their own business, sometimes idly chatting about the new series coming out or their co-workers, with Bittle occasionally shooting him a warm smile and Jack answering it with a trying-hard-to-be-a-smile grimace. They’ve never once been assigned to same project, and Jack isn’t really sure if he’s relieved or dismayed, but he tries not to think about it too hard.

That is… Well. That’s all until one Thursday morning in November.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

:0 can you do one where it's like the MC came from america and they all tease her but then (drumroll) SHES ALSO SOUTHERN and has SUCH a drawl and ofc the classic weird southern phrases or pet names and country music n lame stuff like that (pls help my poor georgia born heart) (my accent has killed so many ppl) love u long time

I’m not very Southern tbh but I was born and raised in FL. It’s such an… interesting place to live… The food here is hella good though, for the most part. My blood is practically sweet tea.

-He noticed your accent instantly. I mean who wouldn’t?
-Once he was being gullible to Seven’s pranks and all you said was “Yoosung… bless your heart.”
-He thought it was a compliment.
-Oh Yoosung you have so much to learn
-You should teach him some southern recipes. Please. He is so interested in what southern food tastes like.
-When he finally does try it, it’s so different from what he usually eats, but it’s a pleasant different.
-He finds himself wanting more afterwards.
-You both tend to enjoy making southern dinner together now.
-He finds it entertaining.
-as long as you don’t play country music while you cook

-Even with a southern drawl, he loves your voice. You know why? Because it’s the voice of the love of his life, so of course it’s gorgeous~
-Music to his ears~
-Speaking of music…
-He hates to be judgmental, especially when it involves you… but he doesn’t like country music.
-He can appreciate some aspects of it because it’s music and music is an art, but he can’t get over how it sounds.
-Also, he’s interested in how life in the south is.
-Please tell him stories about the south. He’d love it so much. He just wants to everything about you, and this is obviously a big part of you.
-Anyone that picks on you will be fought.

-She actually finds the way you talk incredibly adorable.
-Besides, you’re presence alone is calming to Jaehee, so she’d love your voice no matter what it sounded like.
-On occasion, you’ll play a song she actually finds herself enjoying.
-It’s typically country songs that are borderline pop songs but oh well.
-When you call her “sweet pea” she feels blessed.
-But you also call everyone you talk to “sweetie” or “baby” or “sweetheart”
-Umm??? I thought I was your baby????
-You explain that where you come from, it’s normal for people to call each other that, especially women.
-She’ll get over it.

-He’s always known the stereotype of American Southerners™ but you’re obviously not uneducated and uncivilized like the stereotypes make you out to be.
-He doesn’t like country music. He much prefers classical music over the stuff you listen to that doesn’t make any sense to him whatsoever.
-But, if it’s what you like, he’s going to deal with it and listen to it to make you happy.
-The only time he’ll willingly listen to country is if you’re the one performing.
-Unless it’s you, he doesn’t care for it.
-One day you suggest cooking dinner for him so he can try how you lived back in the south.
-He tries it and calls it commoner food appreciates your hard work. It was obviously made with more love than his usual food.
-Doesn’t mean he wants to eat it again though it’s too much for him

-You are the target of so many jokes.
-Bless your heart.
-He puts on a fake accent all the time to mimic you.
-His impression is spot on, you hate to admit.
-He’s the kind of person to get offended when you call PhD Pepper “Coke”.
-It is not “Coke”, it is the nectar of the Gods, _____.
-stfu Saeyoung
-He quotes country songs out of context at inappropriate times too.
-If anyone other than him makes fun of you though he gets super defensive.
-Only he is allowed to talk like a redneck and sing Florida Georgia Line in front of you.
-He calls you southern nicknames, in English too. He thinks it’s teasing, but you actually love when he calls you that.

-He thinks your accent is cute and endearing, especially when you talk in English.
-Country isn’t his kind of thing, but if you want to listen to it, of course he’ll allow it.
-He might not like the songs you play, but he can’t bring himself to hate something you like so much.
-He can tolerate it since it makes you happy.
-V enjoys when you teach him more about what it was like growing up in the south, the good and the bad stories.
-It helps him understand you on another level, which is all he really wants in life.
-He’s not a fan of southern food, but he is willing to try it if you wanted him to.
-Literally so open to anything you bring up.

-Your accent had no affect on him.
-Like he obviously noticed it but he didn’t really notice it.
-“_____ has such a thick southern accent.”
-“They do?”
-“…Oh. I guess they do.”
-He doesn’t like country music and he isn’t afraid to express that.
-Sometimes, though, he’ll tolerate it to make you happy. He’ll just be pouting the whole time.
-He of course knows nothing about the south but he’s okay with learning.
-I mean, if it’s about you, he’s willing to listen.
-He wants to know you better anyway.
-From your stories, it’s much different where you’re from compared to Korea. It does capture his attention.
-You can tell he’s listening because he even asks questions for you to elaborate on.
-He probably won’t admit it, but he enjoys learning more about you.

P.S. I hope you read this post in a southern accent because I was thinking in a southern accent while I wrote this.

anonymous asked:

Could you do a tequila/eggsy fic that includes "I have no fucking clue what youve been saying"? Please and thank you!

“God, I’m fucking knackered,” Eggsy groans. His right leg’s falling asleep on him, but he doesn’t want to shift in his chair. The Statesman’s medical team said that luckily for him, his ribs hadn’t been smashed to bits and his concussion wasn’t too serious. Lucky him, yeah, but if it weren’t for the meeting, he’d be having a lie-down right now. “Who the fuck knew Charlie was going to have a fucking mechanical arm? Fucking mission went pear-shaped.”

“Aye,” Merlin sighs. “Glaikit bastard. Should have amnesia darted him when he left, put him on surveillance—”

“We couldn’t have, though,” Eggsy points out, “not with Chester around. And are you saying you don’t watch the candidates who—” he cuts himself off, remembering that the other Statesman agents are also in the room, looking at them curiously. Kingsman may be no more, but he’s still got to act like it’ll come back. “…who are like that?” 

Merlin shakes his head. “No. And perhaps we need to look into that.” 

“Mental,” Eggsy groans, closing his eyes. He might not have had anything to do with the administrative side of Kingsman, but that doesn’t mean that not keeping an eye on the candidates who failed the fucking loyalty test is a sort of shite idea “Absolutely fucking mental.” 

There’s a loud cough from the seat on Eggsy’s left. “Yeah, guys, I have no fucking clue what you’ve been saying,” Tequila drawls, boots on the table.

Eggsy sees Ginger gives him a reproving look, much like Merlin’s, and with a wink, Tequila slides his feet onto the floor, catching Eggsy’s eye in order to shoot a grin his way.  

“We know Charlie Hesketh from before,” Merlin says. “He was one of our recruits—”

“No, no, not that, I gathered that,” Tequila says, waving his hand. “But all those…slang words.” 

Keep reading

Creepypasta #1029: The Things That Live Under My House Just Found A Way In

Length: Super long

Last week, my wife Katie and I finally closed on our new house, which we’d purchased for a laughable fraction of what the place was really worth. In retrospect, the price should’ve been a red flag, but who can blame me for jumping on this deal? The place was a steal and was no more than a half hour from my downtown office. It was a decent sized two story home with 3 bedrooms, 2.5 baths, and a large but not unmanageably colossal backyard where I planned to install a swing set or a swimming pool when Ellie was old enough (she’s currently the most adorable four year old on the face of the earth, but I digress). Not to mention, we were separated from our neighbors by a good half-acre of woods on either side, so we had more than enough privacy. Anyway, the house wasn’t a mansion by any stretch of the imagination, but it was more than adequate for the purposes of raising a young family in.

Unfortunately, the collective high of buying our first home didn’t last long. By the end of the second or third night, we’d become aware of some bizarre things going on in and around the house. The first thing we noticed were these faint scratching noises coming from what sounded like inside the walls. We figured a squirrel or a small bird had likely found its way behind the drywall and gotten trapped, so we began scheming ways to get the poor thing out without wreaking havoc on the structure. But we had no idea what the hell we were doing and got absolutely nowhere. I was just about one step away from taking a sledgehammer to the living room wall when Katie smartly suggested to let animal control take a swing at things before I ended up bringing down the entire damn house.

But in the three days before the specialist arrived, things took a sharp and unnerving downturn. The scratching got exponentially worse, and when things were quiet enough, we realized we could hear a distinct buzzing sound from underneath the floorboards, almost like there was a titanic beehive beneath the foundations of the house. 

As the hours turned into days, the buzzing got increasingly loud until you no longer had to strain to hear it. Then we noticed we could hear different scratchings from different parts of the wall simultaneously, and we realized we weren’t dealing with a single animal, but likely an infestation of some kind.

Things finally came to a head the morning the exterminator was scheduled to arrive. Katie and I woke up about an hour after dawn to the sound of Ellie screaming herself hoarse from her bedroom down the hall. My paternal instincts immediately kicked in and burned right through my early-morning grogginess, and before I knew what was happening I was bounding away towards her room. I threw open her door and immediately froze in my tracks.

What I saw there still scares the shit out of me - it was some kind of enormous hornet-like thing the size of a football, with a three and a half inch stinger jutting from its lower abdomen. Its hard to describe, but to put the damn thing’s sheer size into perspective, the flapping of its wings produced a sound that was as much like a small whooshing as it was identical to the insect-like buzz we’d been hearing.

In any case, I’d like to say I grit my teeth and charged the bastard with an upturned broom stick for threatening my baby girl, but that’s not the case - I instead slipped on my own sweat and fell on my ass out of sheer shock. Luckily for everyone, though, the bug didn’t seem too interested in taking on a full grown man, and it bolted back into the hole beneath the loose closet floor board the second it spotted me. 

Ellie was screaming uncontrollably the entire time, and a second or two later, Katie burst into the room, eyes wide with anxious confusion. I scrambled to my feet and ran to my daughter, hugging and kissing her and telling her the “mean bug” was gone and that she’d be okay, but it did little good. She continued to wail, and before long Katie began bombarding me with questions of her own.

“I don’t know, Kate,” I said as I picked the still whimpering Ellie up over my shoulder and started stroking her hair. “It was some sort of bug. Like a really, really huge one. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

We headed downstairs, plopped Ellie on the couch with a bowl of cereal and some cartoons, and headed into the kitchen to discuss the incident in harsh whispers.

Keep reading

Thomas Jefferson x Reader

Modern AU

Request: “Thomas Jefferson x Reader smut?”

Requested By: Anonymous

TW: Crappy Writing, Smut, some swearing


“Okay, be cool.” Angelica said and you shrugged.

“I’m always cool.” You rolled your eyes.

“(Y/N), I’m serious, I know you love parties but this one isn’t like the raves you go to, it’s fancier.” She finished fixing your hair as you both smiled in your evening gowns.

“I’m fine, truly.” You gave her a hug and both made your way to the front door.

“Alright lets go in.” She opened the door and you were greeted with what looked like a gala of some sort. You stepped in with Angelica and she closed the door.

“First person we’re meeting is the host, his name is-”

“George Washington, I got it.” You kissed her cheek and she nodded. You both went to Mr. Washington and shook his hand.

“Ladies, it lovely to see you.” He smiled warmly.

“The pleasure is all mine.” You responded.

“It’s nice to see you too, Mr. Washington.” Angelica smiled and shook his hand. After a bit of conversation, the two of you moved on to different people.

You had a conversation with Alexander Hamilton, which was really nice you really liked it. He was a good listener, and then Angelica took you to get refreshments.

“Oh, we have one more person to meet and then we can go.” Angie said and you nodded.

“I’m gonna go to the restroom.” You turned around and walked away. You entered the bathroom and fixed your makeup a bit, you smiled and stepped out of the bathroom.

“Well, hello, why haven’t we been introduced?” You heard a southern drawl call out from behind you. You turned around slowly, a man in a magenta suit was leaning against the wall.

“Well, I’ve no idea, I’m (Y/N) (L/N).” You outstretched your hand, and he shook it gracefully.

“Thomas Jefferson, but you can call me daddy.” He winked. Oh, that’s how he wants to play? You smiled, and he looked astonished as you weren’t flustered at all.

“Maybe Later, sweetheart.” You smirked and he recomposed himself.

“Why not now? There’s a very nice closet, right over there.” He pointed.

“Why, I’ve just met you.” You feigned offense.

“But I feel like I’ve known you for a thousand years.”

“I suppose.” You shrugged and turned around.

“-And where might you be goin’ darlin’?” He followed swiftly behind.

“I’d like to see just how nice that closet is, would you like to join me?” You raised a brow.

“Actually, yes.” He opened the closet door for you, looked around and closed it behind him.

Once closed, you locked it and his lips launched on yours, he started sucking and biting your lip. You opened your mouth and his tongue slipped in. You moaned a bit and he pulled away.

“We don’t want people hearin’ us now, do we?” He took off his suit coat and undoing his pants and belt. You nodded and he went back to kissing you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged on his hair as he moaned a bit, you pulled back and raised an eyebrow.

He started biting your neck as you felt something hard pressing to your side. You removed your hand from his neck and let your hand slip down to his dick.

You removed the briefs over it and grasped it, slowly moving up and down. He bit his lip and watched you with a bit of craving. He gripped your ass under the dress and pulled down your underwear. You jumped up and wrapped your legs around his waist.

He looked up to you for confirmation and you nodded. He pressed into you, and you bit his neck to conceal a moan. He started in a slow pace thrusting in and out.

You threw your head against the door and he kept going sucking on your neck. He pulled all the way out and slammed into you, hitting your g-spot you moaned and he looked at you.

You bit your lip and he started moving faster. His thrusts moving at a relentless pace you struggled holding back moans as he watched you.

“You look so hot like this, Jesus.” He whispered as you felt yourself close to orgasm.

“Faster.” You uttered out and he went faster. You sealed your lips shut, and closed your eyes as you clenched around him and came.

He gasped and came right after you. He rode you through orgasm and finally pulled out letting you down. You smiled and leaned against the door, “my legs feel like jelly.” You whispered.

He smiled and cleaned up fixing himself. You looked around and realized this is where they put the coats. You grabbed yours and put it on.

“I’ll go first, and then you.” You smiled and walked out. You crossed to the bathroom and fixed your flushed appearance.

You stepped out and saw Angelica looking around.

“Angie!” You walked over to her.

“Oh thank god, I thought you left. She sighed.

"No.” You shook your head.

“Were you wearing that jacket the whole time?” She asked eyeing you.

“No, I got cold and went to the coat closet to look for it.” You smiled and she nodded.

“Well, we should go.” She smiled.

“What about the other person you wanted me to meet?” You asked.

“Oh I can’t find him, it doesn’t matter.” She waved you off and you nodded.

“Lets g-” you got cut off.

“Angelica! Is that you?” You heard the familiar southern accent behind you.

“Thomas! Oh my god, we were just about to head back to the car, how are you? (Y/N) this is-” Angie smiled.

“We’ve met.” Thomas smirked.

“Oh?” She looked between you, “oh, oh,oh.” She winked, “I’ll leave you to it.”

“I lost my number, can I have yours?” He asked.

“How about you go look for it?” You smirked.

“I can’t, I’m a bit distracted.”

“I guess I’ll have to give you mine then.”

“That would be nice.” He winked.

You nodded and took his phone, putting your number in.

“I’ll be seeing you?” You asked walking away toward Angelica, by the front door.

“Of course.” He smiled.

Reader Submission: Donna Crashes Hard

Donna laughed nervously as she stood beside the cash register in the waiting area of the auto body shop. Her heart was still racing after her near accident and she had a huge pit in her stomach. Her husband had warned her that if she got into another accident their insurance company might cancel their policy.

“Well ma'am,” Darnell said in a thick southern drawl, “the only damage is to the right control arm and we can get one today.” He flashed her a smile and she giggled.

Darnell was a good looking man. He was tall with dark ebony skin, broad shoulders and strong arms. He had pretty eyes and a well shaped bald head.

Donna had never been with a black man in the biblical sense but she fantasized about it a lot. She didn’t really have a type, though she liked well built men and Darnell was the kind of guy that usually stared in her darkest, most depraved fantasies.

“So you can fix it today,” Donna replied excitedly. If they could fix the car by 5pm her husband would be non the wiser.

“Yeah, I can have the part here by 1 and it shouldn’t take more than 2 hours to replace it. Even doing an alignment we should be done by the end of the day.” He had noticed the pretty brunettes furtive glances down his body and at the crotch of his pants. He was used to that happening. He’d learned years earlier that many married women had fantasies about black men and he’d indulged several of them over the years.

“So how much is this gonna cost me,” Donna asked. She had a few hundred dollars in her emergency fund but any more than that and she’d be screwed. Her husband kept a close watch on their finances so he’d know if she had to put it on a card.

“With the alignment it’ll be $630,” the tall muscular black man said calmly. He saw her eyes widen and tears welled in their corners.

“I can’t afford that,” Donna gasped. Her bottom lip began to quiver and she gazed pleadingly into his eyes.

Darnell breathed deep and paused. It was his shop and he made the rules. He had sent his assistant home because they were slow and he and Donna were all alone.

“How much can you afford?” He asked, not sure where her price point was nor how he would get there.

“I’ve got $270 and that’s it. Please help me. I’ll do anything. She felt a rush of excitement as the words left her mouth. The scenario was playing out like many of her dirty fantasies and she wondered if he might take the bait. In a moment of uncharacteristic bravado she let her eyes brazenly move down his body. She twirled her thick brown hair in her fingers and waited with bated breath for him to respond.

“I think we can work something out,” he grinned as he led Donna into the back room. He unzipped his fly and fished out the biggest, blackest cock she’d ever seen. It was as thick as her wrist and it was several inches longer than her husband’s and still growing.

Donna dropped to her knees. She had never particularly enjoyed giving head. She didn’t care for the taste or smell of her husband’s meager dick but she breathed deep, drawing Darnell’s musky scent into her lungs. He smelled good and her mouth began to water profusely.

Donna licked and sucked his big black dick. Her small mouth stretched over his impressive girth and she moaned wantonly. She felt her pussy drool and she instinctively reached down between her legs and rubbed her hard clit.

Darnell watched her attack his cock with a wide eyed smile. He loved the way married white women sucked dick. They put everything into it and literally made love with their mouths.

Donna’s jaw began to ache and her panties were soaked. She looked up and begged him to fuck her. Despite her all to frequent fantasies of interracial infidelity she’d never really expected to cheat on her husband but she knew what she wanted.

Darnell helped her to her feet and bent her over his desk. His giant cock slipped with surprising ease into her sloppy wet hole and he thrust hard and fast. His big dick stretched her more than she’d ever dreamed and it touched spots she didn’t know existed. Her toes curled and she cried out as she climaxed.

Her pretty eyes rolled back and her first climax morphed into a second. The smell of sex hung heavy in the warm room and sweat soaked her clothes. She heard the door open and she watched with fear as two men entered the room.

“Hey guys,” Darnell said without missing a beat. His thrusts were wild and his breathing labored. He pushed deep and Donna felt him erupt inside her warm, fertile womb. “Y'all want a crack?”

Darnell pulled his cock out of her well fucked hole and the two men nodded. Donna’s fear quickly turned into desire. They both pulled out their dicks and Donna smiled. It was a good day.

Wow! A little longer and I might have gotten there. 💋Donna
Meaningless Nothings

Pairings: Jim Kirk x Reader

Warnings: mentions of sex, innuendos

Word Count: 1865

The smell of the bar overpowered your senses as you walked into the familiar dive. It was only a block away from campus, and you were out celebrating having just graduated from Starfleet Academy. They next day you were supposed to ship out on the USS Enterprise, as the ship and its crew were on shore leave.

“(Y/N)!” Your friend and roommate, Karsa, called to you from her spot in a booth.

“Hey, guys.” You greeted your swarm of friends that sat at the table, all clutching a drink in their hands. “Ready to party?”

And you did party. By twenty-two hundred all your friends had gone home, but you insisted on staying.

In an almost drunken haze, you sat yourself down at the bar, ordering your second, no, third Budweiser Classic that night. You usually didn’t drink this much, or at all really, but your friends had convinced you to let loose just this once.

“How many of those have you had?” A voice behind you caused you to jump. Twisting quickly to the side, you almost slam into a man. You took in his appearance.

Dark blonde hair styled to the side, although it looked as if he had run his hands through it several times. Pink lips that curved upwards in a gentle grin. Leather jacket that you couldn’t help but imagine what it would look like on your bedroom floor. Oh, don’t forget the eyes. They were more blue than the medical uniform you wore. You couldn’t deny it, you were definitely attracted to this mystery man.

“Enough to know that I shouldn’t have anymore.” You grinned, taking a sip of your beverage. The man smiled wider, leaning on arm on the bar.

“My name’s Jim Kirk.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” You smiled. Jim smiled back you, leaning closer towards your seated frame.

“Pretty name.” He breathed. His face was inches from yours, and when he spoke you could feel his minty breath mixing with yours. Your heart beat faster at the sudden closeness, but you didn’t try and pull away.

“You have two names, Jim and Kirk.” You blurted suddenly. Mentally groaning, you admitted to yourself you didn’t know how to flirt. Luckily, Jim found the humor and tilted his head back with laughter. You admired him yet again. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled widely, and his eyes became even more vibrant. He was absolutely gorgeous.

“Actually, I have three.” He smiled, placing a hand on your knee. The warmth his hand provided had an effect on you even through your jeans. You quirked a brow at him, urging him to continue. “James Tiberius Kirk, at your service.” He mock a salute, causing a laugh to ripple through you.

“Well, James Tiberius Kirk, glad to have you at my service.” You teased, running a finger over the back of his hand and up his arm.

You woke up to the sound of an alarm clock. You attempted to sit up to turn it off, but an arm slung around your torso held you in place. Your naked torso.

You were completely naked.

A quick scan around the room proved your theory that you were in someone else’s apartment. Glancing at the clock with worry, a sigh of relief escaped your lips as you realized you still had three hours until you had to report to the shuttle bay. You had a piercing headache, but pushed it to the side as it was the least of your worries.

You laid back down on the bed and pulled the sheets over your chest. Turning slightly, you caught a glimpse of dark blonde hair. Suddenly, the events of last night came back to you.

“Jim.” You whispered harshly, struggling to get him awake. If you had any hope of getting out of his grip, you had to wake him up. “Jim.” You tried again. Still, he refused to stir. Rolling your eyes, you brought your hand up and flicked his face. Out of instinct, Jim pulled you closer by the arm he still had secured around your waist as he startled awake.

“What’s going on?” He groaned, bringing his free hand up to his face to rub the spot you had just attacked.

“I have to leave, but your arm is, well, not letting me.” You rambled, blushing lightly as you got a peak of his exposed abdomen.

“Are you sure you have to leave?” He grinned, and you blushed again. The look in his eyes, however sleep laden they were, made you want to stay. No. You had to leave. The next chapter of your life was about to begin and you couldn’t be late because of some drunken hookup.

No matter how tingly that hookup’s vibrant blue eyes made you feel.

“I’m starting a new job today, James Tiberius Kirk.” You sat up, still holding the blanket over your chest. Drunk you was a lot more confident than sober you.

“At least let me make you breakfast.” Jim offered, sitting up quickly. From the look on his face and his rushed tone, you could tell he was being sincere when he said he didn’t want you to leave.

“You always make breakfast for your one night stands?” You mocked with a grin, making sure to put emphasis on what you titled the little fling. It wasn’t like you didn’t like Jim, you had a genuine interest in him. But you were shipping out soon to start a five year mission in space. You were about to leave and couldn’t start a relationship just to have it end in an hour. You couldn’t do that to him, or anyone for that matter.

You knew you were making the right decision, but seeing his smile falter momentarily had ripped your heart out.

Soon enough, his grin was back on his face, acting as if he didn’t hear your declaration that this was a one time thing.

“Only for the ones named (Y/N).” He drawled. Making his way to his dresser, he quickly pulled on a pair of underwear. You had already gotten dressed again, and it was a miracle that you were able to find all your clothes. They had been thrown around the room last night during hasty undressing. You blushed as you remembered the feeling of his calloused hands making their way up under your shirt.

“I really have to go, but it was nice meeting you.” You offered pathetically, pretending not to see the deflated look in his crystalline blue eyes that you had grown to adore.

“Hope we can do it again sometime.” He quipped halfheartedly. You threw him a fleeting smile over your shoulder as you stepped out his apartment door.

Now all you had to do was make the walk of shame back to your dorm.

“Nurse (Y/L/N)!” A deep southern accent belonging to Chief Medical Officer Leonard McCoy, your superior, called.

“Yes, Dr. McCoy?” You glanced up from the PADD in your hands. You had been on the USS Enterprise for less than six hours and already were drowning in the amount of grunt work you had to do. Currently, you had been busying yourself by checking supplies.

“The Captain’s in examination room three. I can’t deal with him now.” He groaned, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. You had to stifle a smile. You had heard stories that the CMO and Captain were good friends. “He’s got a minor injury, so if you could just patch him up and get him out of my hair, I’ll let you take lunch early.”

“Got it.” You grinned, taking the file out of Leonard’s hands and walking towards the room.

Your nerves began to work in overdrive. It was your first day and you already had to work with the Captain. The freaking Captain!

As you walked into the examination room, your nose was buried into the file.

“(Y/N)?” The oh-so familiar voice called. You froze, standing with your back to him. Slowly, you turned on your heel. Oh god, it was him. Your eyes went wide as you took in the disheveled dark blonde hair.

You had boned your Captain last night.

“Captain.” You greet formally, throwing in a curt nod just to make things more awkward.

“Oh come on,” he grinned. “it’s Jim.” You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. If he didn’t feel awkward about what had happen then why should you?

“Jim, we’ve been in flight for less than a day and you’re already hurt.” You tried to hold a formal tone, but exasperation leaked into your words. He gave you an innocent grin, and you mockingly rolled your eyes. “What’d you do?”

“I hit my head.” He mumbled out. Clearly, he was embarrassed. Quirking a brow, you wordlessly asked for more information. “Okay, so I was in the dining hall, minding my own business and talking with Lieutenant Uhura when suddenly I was attacked.”

“Attacked?” You asked in disbelief. No one in their right mind would attack the Captain in his own ship. “What do you mean, attacked?” Jim sighed heavily, and you knew the story was about to get better.

“Well, it might have just been Commander Spock suddenly appearing behind me and talking—”

“Which scared you so much you tripped, fell, and hit your head on a table?” You finished, guessing where the story was going. When he nodded, it took all the professionalism in you to stop you from laughing.

“Spock said I should go to medical and see if I got a concussion.” He said glumly. You nodded, picking up the tricorder and scanning him. When you finished, you sighed and placed all the tools back where you found them.

“Well, all I found was a bruised ego from being bested by a bench, but other than that you’re fine.” You teased, turning back around to log your findings into the PADD.

Your heard Jim move, and suddenly felt his presence right behind you.

“You know, I think you owe me for running out like that this morning, and not even telling me you worked on my ship.” He whispered into your ear. You blushed, turning to face him.

“Sorry about that, but in my defense I didn’t know you were in Starfleet.” You shrugged, hyperaware of the practically nonexistent gap between the two of you.

“I think you should tell me more about you.” He grinned, taking a half step back. “Over lunch.” You smiled widely, glad your luck had worked and things weren’t awkward between you and him. That meaningless hookup had even scored you a date with the Captain.

“Alright, fine.” He took your hand in his, and led you out of the examine room.

“Hey, Bones!” He shouted with a giddy smile. You blushed, hoping your superior wouldn’t get upset at the fact you were fraternizing with a crew mate while on duty. Leonard took a quick glance between the two of you, noticing your entwined hands before letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Do you have to get all sweet on my nurses?”

Gorgeous: Steve x Reader

A/N: This is based off of Taylor Swift’s new song, Gorgeous. The italics before text are lyrics.

You should take it as a compliment/That I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk

Laughter echoed through the room as everyone was laid out on a couch or the floor. It was a regular occurrence, everyone drinking and joking on a Saturday, usually after a successful mission, like today. Everyone was tipsy, or drunk, except Steve, Bucky, and Vision, for obvious reasons. Currently, you were on the couch next to Natasha, your legs splayed out on her lap as you gestured to Steve with your drink, giggling madly as you talked about your mission with Steve.

“Yo-You should have heard him, it was great! We we-were in the tech store, undercover ya know, and the target walked in and we tried to look busy and not suspicious. I pulled him toward a – toward a worker, so he couldn’t see our faces. An-And the guy was explaining the new iPhone or something to Steve, and oh my god, the worker was like ‘Do you have a Facebook, or Twitter?’ to Steve, and Steve says, ‘I don’t have the slightest idea what a tweeter or this Fakebook is son.’”

You bust out laughing again, the group following in suit as Steve’s cheeks became pink. Bucky nudged him with his shoulder laughing. Saying something about even he had a Twitter. You looked at Steve’s flushed face, you own becoming a shade of pink, and not from the alcohol.

You should think about the consequence/Of your magnetic field being a little too strong

Whenever, wherever you were, somehow you always gravitated toward him. Whether it was at a party Tony threw or on a mission, you always found yourself next to him, smiling as you went ahead to clear the adjacent room. It wasn’t just you, he had that effect on everyone. He was always surrounded by someone, at a party he had a group of investors or government officials always at his side, asking about his past or his current mission. It was as if he had the magnetic field around him, and you were a paper clip, slowing coming closer and closer until the two meet.

And I got a boyfriend, he’s older than us/He’s in the club doing, I don’t know what

You sighed as you sat at the bar, this was the second time in a week he stood you up for a club. Steve came and occupied the stool next to you, smiling before ordering a drink. He turned to you, motioning to the bartender. You smiled and ordered your usual, Whisky on Ice. While the bartender made you drinks you turn to the super soldier.

“So, what brings a man like you to a place like this?” You ask jokingly as he chuckles before responding.

“Well, I saw a pretty lady all by herself, and I thought that I might keep her company.” You flush at his words, shifting your attention to the napkin placed in front of you with your drink.

“Well, that is mighty kind,” you say with a southern drawl before continuing. “My boyfriend was supposed to be my date, but I just got his message that he can’t make it. Though it seems he forgot he added me on social media since I just saw him in the club.” You take a sip of your drink, wondering why you were even with that guy. His name was Zac, and he was older but did not act like it. You’re pretty sure the only reason you said yes was because you wanted to take your mind off everything. Steve gives you a tight smile before taking a drink. You knew he didn’t like Zac, maybe that’s why you kept him around.

You’re so cool, it makes me hate you so much /You’ve ruined my life, by not being mine/ You’re so gorgeous

You snuck glances toward him as you continued the treadmill. You had broken up with Zac that night, not wanting to deal with him anymore and partly because of Steve. It was hard, whenever you were in a relationship, you always ended it because of Steve. He was ruining your life. You watched the punching bag swing with each punch he threw, the poor thing. He had to lay one on the floor in case this one broke. You watched the way his back muscles moved and how his biceps flexed with each punch. You focused on your own workout before he caught you practically drooling. He’s just so gorgeous. The way his lips twitch when you tell him a stupid pun, or how his brows furrow when he doesn’t understand a term. The way his eyes crinkle when he’s truly happy. He was gorgeous, no denying it, but it was putting a damper on your relationship.

I can’t say anything to your face/‘Cause look at your face/And I’m so furious/ At you for making me feel this way

You nodded quickly as you started rifling through the paperwork, trying to find the data on the new mutant Steve apprehended on his last mission. You helped Bruce and Tony in the lab, wanting to put your degree in Science and Mutant Biology to use. As a mutant yourself, you wanted to be able to understand yourself, and others better, hoping one day to find out what causes a person’s specific mutation.

But the Avengers happened, so you decided to do your work from the lab, which consisted of taking samples and doing workups on each mutant the team brings in and eventually making a profile for the database. Which was what Steve currently wanted. It was hard to concentrate since lately, you could barely talk to him face to face. Each time you did, you blush, thinking about his dimples or the crow’s feet he’ll have one day.  After fishing it out, you slid it toward him, smiling before busying yourself with organizing the profiles alphabetically. Once he left, you let out a groan of frustration. It made you so mad that you could barely look him in the eye without blushing. You were a goddamn Avenger. You knew how to kill a man eight different ways with a paperclip, but you couldn’t talk to a crush?

You should take it as a compliment/ That I’m talking to everyone here but you

You weaved through the room, occasionally looking to see where he was. When you saw he was walking in your direction, you tried to find someone, anyone to talk to, eyes landing on an investor who normally would be someone you’d avoid, but you were desperate. You’ve avoided talking to Steve for almost the whole ball, and you wanted it to stay that way. You’d smile at him from across the room, but when he started to come to you, like now, you found a random person to talk to. You smiled at the investor, whose name was John, as the two of you talked business. You snuck a look at where Steve was, to find him looked dejected. You didn’t like ignoring him, but it was better than trying to talk to him. He should be happy you weren’t embarrassing him. You were doing him a favor.

And you should think about the consequence/ Of you touching my hand in the darkened room

The power had gone out on the Quinjet, as you and Steve were looking for the cause, his hand touched yours. And instead of pulling away, he gave it a squeeze before, almost reluctantly, pulling away, you were sure he wasn’t reluctant, it was just your brain playing tricks. Right?

If you got a girlfriend, I’m jealous of her/ But if you’re single that’s honestly worse

You watched from afar as Steve turned down another girl. This was the third time this week. You had no idea why? Did he have a secret girlfriend? That would explain the turning down. You sighed as you thought about his possible girlfriend. She was probably a teacher, kindergarten or preschool. She probably wore those cute fit and flare dresses from the fifties and had really neat handwriting. Gosh, you didn’t even know if she was real, and you were already jealous. He could be single, but that’d be worse. If he was single, why would he turn them down? They were all beautiful, most from Shield. Maybe he had a crush himself, probably on someone like Maria or Sharon. You really needed to get your act together.

Ocean blue eyes looking in mine/I feel like I might sink and drown and die

You clutched your stomach laughing, trying not to fall off the couch. You and Steve were sitting on the couch, you were ‘teaching’ him about different cultures by having watch sappy telenovelas. You had the subtitles on since Steve didn’t know a lick of Spanish, which is what you plan to teach him soon. But the subtitles were so horrendous it made you burst out laughing and left Steve confused. You looked over to him, only to see his ocean blue eyes staring into yours, a smile playing on his lips. Your laughter died down and you smiled, turning toward the TV. You could feel the blush crawl up your neck as you sink down in your seat a little bit, embarrassed.

You make me so happy it turns back to sad/There’s nothing I hate more than what I can’t have/You are so gorgeous it makes me so mad

You loved being around Steve. He was hilarious, he laughed at your jokes, seems genuinely interesting when you went off about a mutation or the government. You were always happy when you were with him, it made you sad. Why did it have to be him? The one guy you couldn’t possibly have? You hate that you couldn’t have him. You were so comfortable and happy with him, but he was so him. He was gorgeous, smart, funny, everything anyone would ever want. And you were just you. A mutant who happened to stumble into the Avengers Initiative. You groaned internally, looking over and drinking in his features. He was absorbed in the show, trying to understand what they were saying without looking at the subtitles. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he was biting his bottom lip. You huff and turn back to the screen. Why did he have to be so great?

Guess I’ll just stumble on home to my cats/ Alone, unless you wanna come along, oh…

When the telenovela ended, you stood, stretching and popping your joints. You smiled at Steve, sad the night was coming to an end.

“Well, I’d better get down to my floor. I’m sure Gregory is hungry.” Gregory was your cat. After much deliberation, Tony let you bring him along. Gregory loved Steve, for some reason. You turned to Steve, smile playing on your lips,

“Unless you wanna come along?”

Pas de Deux

First of all, sorry for being almost inactive. Work’s being rough lately.

I took @alyssawritesalot​ challenge, and wrote a Zelink Ballet Company AU. Went for  TP Zelink ‘cause they look the part (I blame ‘Crowd Pleaser’ for blessing us with the idea of a dancer Link), and because there’s never enough Midna in our lives. Enjoy.

Music suggestion: Yuri on Ice OST- La Parfum de Fleurs.



‘I swear it Midna, if he gives me that strange stare again I’m going to break in my new pointe shoes on his face’. Zelda chugged from her thermos mug, filled with her Calamity brew, the nickname she gave to the ungodly amount of pure, concentrated​, unsweetened caffeine she drank every morning, as they walked down the street to Zelda’s studio.

‘Have you considered the possibility of him actually not hating you?’, the tall redhead dressed in black sipped her tea, 'you have just been practicing with him for what? Two weeks?’

‘Nope’, her answer was absolute, ‘ever since he arrived, over a month ago, he has had this better-than-y’all attitude. Worst thing, the Director and the Maestro love him. On the bright side, apparently, they considered his opinion when they chose me for the main role’.

'He’s made you lose all your chill, dear’, Midna cackled, 'you are always so serene and composed, so ballerina-like, and now…’

'Hello, Zelda’, a blond man in black rushed past the brunette, her gamine figure freezing at the sight.

'Holy fucking shit’, she gasped, panicking, 'He heard us’.

‘Nope, he was wearing headphones’, she calmed the already stressed ballerina. 'remember to breathe, please, darling’

Zelda sighed in relief before saying goodbye to her friend, and entering the studio to spend the rest of the day rehearsing with him.

These months are going to be SO long, she said to herself as she dropped her bag on the locker room and started changing into her dancing gear. Dammit, Stella, you and your diva attitude, why you had to quit all of a sudden?

The Prima Ballerina of the Hyrule National Ballet had resigned after having “creative disagreements” with the Director - she had actually been offered an outrageous amount of rupees from the Terminian Ballet Company, and being imposed to work with a new, slightly younger dancer - “a talented brat, nonetheless, but still a brat”, in her own words - had been the breaking point.

Zelda had been chosen as the new Prima Ballerina, for two reasons: she was, at age 25, a seasoned dancer, capable of filling the space left, and because the new Prime Danseur approved of her - reasons undisclosed.

When she entered the studio, already filled with the morning light, he had just begun warming up.

'Good morning, Link’, she greeted the blond man with messy hair as she took her place on the barre.

'Good morning, Zelda’, he answered, not even looking at her, fully concentrated on his exercises.

Both remained silently doing the warm-up exercises, until noisy steps broke their focus.

'Hello Princess and Hero!’, the booming voice echoed. 'Ready to save Hyrule from evil?’

'Good morning, Maestro Auru’, both greeted him respectfully, nodding at his question.

'Lets us begin, then’.

II. Tour en l’air

'You’ve been amazing’, Link told her when they were finishing their Saturday morning practice. 'Thank you for bein’ such a good partner and bearing with me’.

They had agreed meeting that day to practice together, to improve on the pas de deux they were to perform in three months.

Zelda could not believe his words - and his subtle southern accent.

'You are welcome, but you are easy to work with’. Zelda might have not liked him because he was distant and barely talked, but the man was a dancing machine. All his movements were always clean and precise, as if dancing was his second nature. He also had this noble air to him - very knight-like.

'I’m so relieved’, he sighed, 'I could honestly swear you hated me at the beginning’.

'It’s not that’, she clarified. I just wanted to punch you with my pointe shoes.

‘I know I ain’t too chatty, and people are mislead by that’, he fidgeted with a towel, 'Most think I’m a smug ass, and I’m really sorry if I gave ya that impression’.

Zelda chuckled, confirming his prior statement.

'Well, at least I hope imma changing yours’.

Ever since that day, they started having lunch together. To her surprise, he was far from being a jerk - he was really shy and socializing was really hard for him.

She realized along the passing days that they had more similarities than differences.

Progressively, and with a little of his partner’s help, he became more talkative and started getting acquainted with the rest of the dancers.

As she saw him practice the choreography - his solo scenes were full of pirouettes and jumps - on a cold morning, Zelda felt something aflutter within her, as if she was walking on air.

She started dancing better than ever.

III. Entrechat

'Link is really nice! And to think you wanted to smash his pretty face before’, Midna cackled, after being introduced to the Danseur earlier. 'He has this adorable southern drawl, he isn’t from here, is he?’

'He’s from Ordon’. The ballerina informed her friend, grabbing the fork to start dining. 'That’s why he has that accent’.

Midna’s eyebrow raised at her friend’s freshly ​delivered information. 'You know what they say about Ordonian guys?’

'No idea’, Zelda drizzled some dressing on her salad, taking a bite.

'Gents on the streets, wolves on the sheets’.

The brunette almost choked on her food. Midna’s heavily eyelined eyes were full of mirth at her reaction.

‘I swear’ - she coughed, then drank a sip of water - 'you are the worst best friend in the world’, she gasped, 'I spend over eight hours a day with the guy, with plenty of body contact involved! We play a couple of lovers, for Goddesses’ sake! -she started blushing- I don’t need these type of thoughts two weeks before the opening night!’

'Okay, don’t get stressed’ the redhead gave up on her teasing, 'your bun will get frizzy’.

Zelda sighed deeply.

'And there's​ nothing wild about him’, she noted, 'he is very sweet, kind, and polite’.

Midna nodded as she chomped on her lasagna.

'You like him’. You wanna ride his d-

'Nope. Link is just a good friend and workmate’.

'You’re in denial’, Midna stated. 'I’m a therapist, I know what I’m talking about, sweetie. I don’t blame you if you like him’ -she shrugged - 'He is a total hunk’.

A notification beep startled Zelda, picking up her mobile phone. Her face suddenly lit up.

‘What is it, Zelda?’, the friend enquired, 'You never check on your phone so fast’.

Zelda shoved the screen to her friend’s face. There was a message.

And in my dreams I see myself on a wolf’s back/ riding along a forest path/ to do battle with a sorcerer Tsar/ In that land where a princess sits under lock and key/ Pinning behind massive walls.

Wanna meet on Sunday for brunch at my place and watch this bad boy on Blu-ray? Y/N - Link

'He is into you too’, she affirmed nonchalantly, 'and what’s with that poem thing?’ Is that how dancers woo each other?

'It’s a verse of a children’s rhyme that inspired Stravinsky to create “The Firebird”!’, Zelda’s eyes almost sparkled, 'Link loves Les Ballets Russes as much as I do!’

‘Oh, I see’, Midna sipped her glass of wine, observing carefully her petite friend’s reaction. Blushed cheeks, the gleam in her eyes, she looked happier: it was obvious that her affections for her dance partner were strong, although still unnamed. And to her surprise, the feelings seemed to be mutual.

I’d better stop teasing her, and let this go with the flow.

'Go say yes quickly, Zelda’, Midna chuckled, 'don’t leave the guy waiting’.

Zelda’s fingers quickly typed an answer, as she smiled widely at the upcoming prospect.

That sunny spring Sunday, Zelda, clad in a fuchsia dress and white sneakers (something nice and simple, because this isn’t a date at all), rang at noon Link’s apartment doorbell on Castletown’s South Avenue. Next to the door there was a very cozy looking diner that caught her eye - Telma’s was the name.

Once the owner welcomed his guest, Zelda was in awe at how luminous and homely the place was: a big, inviting sofa with blankets and pillows, lots of potted plants, books, CD’s and a sound system. Her place was bleak in comparison.

'These Benedict eggs are fantastic’, she savored her meal. 'Mine are always bland. Any secret?’

'The secret is that all you’re eating is from my folks’ farm’, he smiled, 'pure ol’ Ordon goodness’.

Once all plates were empty - not a difficult feat - they watched their beloved ballet, not realizing how close they were to each other already.

'I wish I could dance it someday’, Zelda rested her head on Link’s shoulder, sighing.

'We can practice it now, if we make room’, Link offered, 'I’ve done it before’.

'Let’s do the pas de deux then!’, Zelda chimed, all fired up.

After that day, Zelda and Link had nicknames for each other.

IV. Adagio

‘I couldn't​ have done this without your help, Firebird’, Link, in full costume and make-up, whispered Zelda minutes before their debut. 'I’m so grateful to you’.

'What are you saying? I should be thanking you!’, she held his shaky hands​. 'You are the best partner I could have ever asked for, Prince Ivan’.

He embraced her tight.

'Your words mean the world to me’, he sighed, 'Break a leg, Princess’.

'You too, Hero’.

The following morning, the reviews for The Guardians of The Golden Power were stellar. All shows for the season had almost sold out.

Director Impa and Maestro Auru’s brows raised at one sentence of The Hyrule Times review: “The crescent sexual tension between the main characters is so excellently portrayed by the performers that makes you think they have something going on between them”.

The question that rose over the weeks that followed the premiere was are they, or aren’t they?

Apparently they had not gotten involved, but wouldn’t it be nice?

V. Grand pas de deux

It was the last show. Probably they would dance together again, but it would be a wholly different experience.

As the strings of the orchestra started playing, they danced flawlessly, no longer for the enjoyment of others​, but for themselves.

Their hearts raced as the climax of the ballet unraveled, the scene where the protagonists declared their love to each other before facing their nemesis. The music was slow, almost like a waltz, and subtly sensual, for the scene ended with their bodies entangled, and almost kissing.

Once the curtain fell after bowing to the audience, applause still roaring on the theatre, a feeling of emptiness washed over Zelda.

As the rest of the ensemble went to change clothes and go celebrate, Zelda remained backstage for a moment, alone with Link.

'The final pas de deux was…’, Link sighed, 'Somethin’ outta this world’.

'Yeah’, she interlaced her fingers with his, 'It was almost… as if we were them for a moment’.

She later let his hand go and stood up, heading for her dressing room, silently, still entranced for what happened on-stage.

'I… should go get changed’.

A soft tug at the train of her costume - just like the prince did to the magical bird on the ballet - stopped her in her tracks. Her head turned.

'Firebird… I…’ - his gaze was fixed on hers.

She recognized the expression on his intensely blue eyes; Zelda dragged him by the collar of his shirt, placing​ a kiss on his slightly parted lips.

'Your house or mine’, she whispered, visibly red despite her makeup, 'after the party, I mean’.

‘You mean after we take a pic with the big shots, and hail a cab before I drag ya to defile my dressing room?’, he hummed against her neck.

‘Sounds like a plan’.

VI. Coda

Zelda awoke to a notification beep from her phone.

Heeey gurl! How was the final show? I hope you celebrated properly - with plenty of booze. xoxo M


She would probably be popping bottles of champagne if she knew last night’s outcome, which involved: several orgasms, no clothes whatsoever, general soreness, lack of sleep, a hickey on her inner thigh, and most importantly, a very asleep - and only covered by a blanket - male dancer.

Middie, the final show was great. I didn’t party a lot though. On a completely unrelated note, I must tell you I’m really sorry for not believing that saying about Ordon men. xoxo Z

Zelda hit sent and forgot about her phone, as fingers caressed her back, inviting her to return to her partner’s arms.

I only did McCree because I’m a loser. You’re free to request Hanzo when I re-open requests, though! Sorry for the inconvenience.

Also, what’s a happy ending?

God, he was a fool. He should’ve stayed away when he first saw you. You shouldn’t have been involved in this - with him. McCree pressed his back roughly against the wall as he heard his rival gang’s hard boots walk across the concrete floor. He held his peace-keeper in his fist tightly as he clenched his teeth. If they lay a finger on you- No. He can’t be thinking that.

Keep reading


Pairing: AJ Styles/You/Roman Reigns

Warnings: Sex. Dirty talk.

Summary:  Roman Reigns and AJ Styles x Reader threesome orgy! You get in your car and drive home from a long, stressful day at work. You open your suite door and see that AJ Styles and Roman Reigns are in your jacuzzi with bubbles. After taking your clothes off, all three of you get right down to business! Details, smut, sensual moments and lots of kink! Thanks.

Notes: I did my best for you anon ! I didn’t feel comfortable going full smut because you weren’t very clear with what you wanted to see. I didn’t want to possibly write anything that might squick you. In the future when you drop by the ask box maybe give us some more details ?  - Dani

Everything that could have gone wrong has gone wrong today. You are just over it. This day needs to be over. You want to be at home in your jacuzzi tub, soaking in some bubbles and drinking your way down a whole bottle of wine. A nice long phone call with your guys would go a long way too. They always make you feel better even when they’re literally on the other side of the world.

Keep reading