and saying he can move his toes~

10

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, catch a tiger by its toe. If he hollers, let him go. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. My mother told me to pick the very best…and you are it.

Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy’s other eye out and feed it to his father. And then we’ll start. You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry.

Hell, you‘re all gonna be doing that.

John moves back into 221B after the Mary debacle and on the night he comes back he turns on the recording of the song Sherlock wrote and played at his wedding, and he takes a stunned Sherlock’s hand and pulls him in, and Sherlock can hardly breathe, can hardly make sense of it, he can only let John lead him in the slow dance, one of John’s hands at the small of his back, the other one interlacing their fingers together, their bodies moving in a perfect rhythm, pressed together from thighs to chests, and then John presses up onto his toes and murmurs against Sherlock’s ear, “This is our song.” And Sherlock lets out a shuddering breath, and says “John.” But before he can say more John nudges his face into the curve of Sherlock’s neck and breathes him in and whispers there, “Shh just…just dance with me.” And they spend hours just holding each other while their song plays, the music filling the flat and surrounding them, seeping into their bones and reshaping them, preparing them for the rest of their lives together.

listen: we all know sherlock has icy little toes and he forces them under john’s thighs to warm up when they’re watching something and john is like “ughhhh i can feel how cold they are through my trousers” but he says it really nicely and then “absent-mindedly” puts his hand on sherlock’s shins to make sure he doesn’t take him seriously and move his feet. and then john genuinely goes back to watching whatever it is but sherlock just stares at john’s hand sort-of half stroking his legs and he can’t believe his smoll stunt paid off so well and his heart is beating so fast and he’s 😳😳😳🙈

Zimbits WIP

I’m rewriting part 1 of my 5+1 fic for the fourth time because I wrote it in Jack’s POV and I want it to be in Bitty’s POV so take this away from me so I can stop obsessing over it. 


Jack comes home to Bittle passed out on the couch in the Haus.

“You should have gone to bed when I told you to, Bittle. Did you even make it to your early class today?” Jack asks as he toes off his yellow sneakers. There’s a pie on the counter, golden brown and untouched. “What kind of pie is that? Bittle?”

Bittle doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t chirp Jack about his shoes or the distressing state of the sweatshirt he’s wearing. He doesn’t move to greet him. Jack can see his phone on the coffee table and his hand extended towards it but not quite touching it; like he fell asleep reaching for it and that’s so unlike Bittle who usually has the thing glued to his hand, that makes Jack step into the living room.

“Bittle?”

He groans when Jack steps in front of him, eyes barely open and he tugs on Jacks plaid flannel so it’s tucked up further around his shoulders.

Keep reading

The story with this picture is I walk up to Chris, call him “Mr. Evans” like a nerd and ask him if I can get a big bear hug from him. He’s totally up for it and I get this huge hug– his chin on my left shoulder, me up on my toes and face pressed into his shoulder. 

Then he realizes my face isn’t in the picture, and he tells me we need to switch sides. Next thing I know, he moves his face to the other side of mine?? And then he says something along the lines of “this isn’t going to work either– we have to both look at the camera, huh?” and finally! Coordination! We both turn to the camera on three and I’ve got the biggest, dumbest smile on my face.

After, I was sure to thank him. I told him I hoped he was doing well and enjoying the convention. He reassured me he was!

Moments - 5

(part 1) | (part 2) | (part 3) | (part 4) | (part 6) | (part 7)

summary:

soulmate au where the first words you’ll hear your soulmate say are inscribed on your wrist.

warnings: swearing, injury, descriptions of moderate torture 
word count: 1450


Please, help me, please.

It’s the only thought running through your head. There’s someone in front of you, face twisted in a malicious smile. He has a knife in his hand and the silver blade is glinting in your eye and it’s coming closer and closer to you and you’re moving farther and farther away until you’re on the tip of your toes and you can’t move any further back. Someone’s talking, quietly at first, then loud, screaming, screeching until your ears can’t bear it.  

“Stop! Please!  I don’t know! I don’t know!”

The knife is digging into your skin, twisting and turning, and you realize you’re the one screaming. There’s laughter  around you, ricocheting against the walls, surrounding you, squeezing, suffocating, and then–

Then there’s another voice, croaky and low and you can barely hear it, but it’s there and the familiarity is cutting through the laughter and your screaming dies down until your throat is abraded.

“Don't– don’t hurt her.”

Bucky.

He’s not supposed to be here. He’s not supposed to be beside you, with a split lip and bruises and covered in blood, like you. He’s not supposed to be suffering.

The knife leaves your skin and then there’s someone walking towards him and you want to scream. You want to warn him, tell him that they’re coming, that he should get away while he can, but you can’t form the words.

They’re in front of him now, knife poised at the base of his neck and digging in just enough to draw blood.

“She’s your soulmate.” The voice– it’s a woman’s, so familiar it makes your chest constrict.

“I know.”

“What are you going to do about it ?” Natasha. That’s Natasha’s voice.

“I don’t know.”

It’s quiet for a moment,  and then there’s a flash of silver and then red and there’s blood everywhere and suddenly you’re screaming again and Bucky falls to his knees and there’s a pool of blood surrounding him and his eyes are wide and dead and–

You sit up, body screaming in protest as a deep, throbbing ache radiates off of throughout your bones. There’s a guttural scream caught in your throat and your breathing is so rapid and skin so flushed that you don’t notice the two people beside your beside until someone has a hand on your shoulder and you’re scrambling back on the bed, eyes glassy and unable to focus.

“Y/N, hey, hey– it’s Nat, it’s okay.”

You stop moving and your gaze lands on her worried face, then on Bucky, who’s watching the exchange with wide eyes. Bucky, who’s standing in front of you, very alive, not a single cut on his face. You can breathe again.

You let go of your death grip on the sheets and colour fills your face again as you breathe out an apology.

“Hey, don’t worry.” She sits down on the edge of your bed and offers you a small smile. You try to return it, but you’re pretty sure the most you can manage is a grimace– your entire face still hurts. Her hand takes yours, lightly, comfortingly, and you look away, ashamed. You’re a trained agent, and whatever happened wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Someone should stay with you tonight.” She’s not looking at you. Instead, her green eyes seem to be piercing through Bucky, who maintains her stare with his own sharp look. Your gaze switches back and forth between them, not unnoticing of the tension in the room. You can see the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows– it’s more pronounced, you realize, because he’s uncomfortable– then he nods.

Nat gives you another smile, and then she’s standing up and stalking out of the room, not looking back at Bucky. You want to yell at her, tell her to come back and not leave you alone with Bucky, because he might be your soulmate, but he hates you and he’s made as much clear. You don’t want to– you can’t spend another minute with him because every time you look at him, you’re reminded of your own desperation and the ache in your chest, but mostly, of the day you figured out you were soulmates.

Bucky sits down in Nat’s spot, eyes trained on your face. His metal hand is clenched into a tight fist and you know he doesn’t mean danger, that he might not like you but he wouldn’t ever hurt you (not physically). Still, you shift away. It’s the slightest movement, but Bucky Barnes, well, he’s a sniper and then an assassin and he’d be damned if he doesn’t catch on to things like that. Instantly his eyes widen and his fist loosens and he opens his mouth to say something.

There’s a lump forming in your throat as you watch him, eyes focused on the plates of his arm, his shirt, his skin, anywhere but his face.

“Y/N.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever heard him say your name, or even acknowledge you for that matter. Something inside you swells, pleasantly, but then you close your eyes and the image of Nat and him kissing is burned into your eyelids and the feeling’s gone as fast is it came.


“Y/N– do you–” he swallows again. “Do you remember what you said to me? When I found you?”

Your eyes flick to him in disbelief. You were dying, barely conscious if even, after weeks of being questioned over and over about his goddamn whereabouts. So no, you don’t remember what you said to him. Still, your heartbeat picks up it’s pace and your hands are really warm all of a sudden because he’s looking at you with such intensity, blue eyes searching your face, then staring you right in the eye. You look away.

“No, I don’t.” Your voice is raspy. It hurts to speak, far more than the dull ache you feel every time you breathe.

“You,” he stops talking and brings his hand up to rub at his face. He’s selecting his words carefully, you can tell. His jaw is set and his flesh hand is flushed red and his pupils are dilated and–

“You said that I was your soulmate. I just– is it true?”  Your breathing stops. Shit.

You cough, hard, racking up your lungs half in shock and half because there’s something stuck in your throat and your eyes burn and you’re coughing until there are tears in your eyes, but Bucky’s eyes remain fixated on your as he hands you a glass of water, and his expression remains expectant as you gulp it down.

“Is it true?”

“Of course not.”

He can see right through your bluff. “Is it true?”

“I was delusional!” You look at him, exasperated. “I was on the verge of dying– every single day I spent there I felt like– I fucking wished– it would be my last, that I wasn’t going to make it till tomorrow. Thank you for saving me, I owe you my life, I honestly do. But that doesn’t mean you can ask me whatever comes to your head, especially when it’s about something stupid I said when I was half alive and barely conscious. ”

Is it true?”

“Fuck, Bucky, yes! Okay? Yes, it’s true.”

The back of your eyes sting and the colour leaves Bucky’s face. He stands up, passing his hands over his face as if you’ve just burdened him with the weight of the world. Then–

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You can’t believe this man, pretending like the news impacts his entire life, pretending like it actually matters to him when he’s made it real damn clear that it doesn’t, because he has a girlfriend that he’s in love with and he can be happy with and if anyone gets to be selfish in this situation, it’s you.

You turn to him, eyes wide and breathing heavy. “When was I supposed to do that?

His stare makes you want to punch him in the face because he looks just as exasperated as you do. As if he has the fucking right.

“When you found out!”

You clench your teeth and take in a deep breath, counting down to ten before speaking up. “When? When you were busy swapping spit with my best friend? What should I have done ? Been like– ‘Hey, I know you just told her you love her, but we’re soulmates?”

“I deserved to know!”

“Get out.”

He drops his hand and his eyebrows shoot up. “What?”

Get. Out.”  You lift a bandaged hand and point to the door.

Bucky stares at you for a moment, then his jaw twitches in anger and he balls his fists and his eyes become wet and red, and then he storms out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

The tears spill before you can stop them.

Keep reading

I’m not attracted to you, ” she says. He shrugs and he grins and hopes his heart doesn’t show between his toes. “That’s okay. I was never attracted to you either. ” She shrugs right back, they turn away, two lovers lost in disarray. Then he moves without sound. Without thought, he turns around. He grabs her hair, he pulls hard. She gasps and throws her head back and her eyes flutter closed. His lips move to her neck but all he does is whisper, “You’re so completely full of shit, ” and lets her hair go in disgust. She composes herself as best she can, and she shrugs and she grins with pink in her cheeks and she says, “But so are you. ” And they take one last look before they shrug and turn away, two lovers lost in disarray.
Random Team Japan Trivia

(From the Mezamashi TV Quiz series that ran during the 2 weeks leading up to Glasgow Worlds.)

Kohei Uchimura 

  • After he retires, he wants to try growing out his hair like Naoki Matayoshi (see above).
  • Can move his scalp. He could do it from when he was in elementary school.
  • When he was small, he wanted to be a motorcycle police. He thinks they are cool and owns/rides a white 1000cc motorcycle (in Japan, police motorcycles are white).

Kenzo Shirai

  • Dislikes coriander.
  • Bad at swimming. Says it’s because he gets conscious of his toes and strains too much, making him sink. He barely managed to pass the swimming test in university.
  • Always brings yakiniku sauce when going overseas. He likes to use it on fresh vegetables and feel like Japan.

Yusuke Tanaka

  • Loves cleaning.
  • He’d like to try being a cameraman. He’s pretty confident he can take good shots of gymnastics since he knows everything about it.

Ryohei Kato

  • Extremely leisurely and does things at his own pace.
  • Out of snakes, frogs or cockroaches, he dislikes cockroaches the most.

Kazuma Kaya

  • Favorite food: eels
  • Wanted to be a firefighter because he liked to climb/slide down poles.

Tomomasa Hasegawa 

  • Very good at solving Rubik’s Cube. (He solved it in 30 seconds on TV.) He goes around teaching his friends in university.
Pref #01:

“will you do a 4/4 pref of how a night with the boys would be”

Ashton: literally cuddling 25/8. he would find a movie on netflix on his phone and you would spoon (he’s the big spoon obvis) and he would move the covers bc your cheeks get red and you get flustered. he would randomly pause the movie and look at you and you would be like “uhm what” and he would just smile and say “you’re beautiful”. and he would trail his toes up your legs to tickle you but he would just hold you all night and when you finally went to sleep he would kiss your head and whisper “goodnight baby” and omfg I’m in pain

Michael: this little shit is the type to move a lot in bed like he just can’t get comfortable so he’s flopping around and you’ll just sit up bc you obviously can’t sleep and he’ll just flop face first and let out a really frustrated groan so you would climb on his back and straddle him and just put your arms around him. and then you would start kissing his back and his neck and make your way to his ear and you would bite his ear and whisper “go the fuck to sleep” and then he would flip under you super ninja quick and you’d be awkwardly on his crotch and he would get all suggestive and I can’t do this I have to stop I’m gonna rip my hair out

Luke: fucking Luke let me tell you something okay this kid would talk to you all. night. long. he would start by talking about his day and then he would turn on his side and tell you about what he and his mum talked about on the phone earlier in the day. and you would turn to try and sleep but he would just sheepishly ask “you still there?” and even though you hardly mumble in reply he would continue about his confusion on religion and politics and life in general and I’m crying now thanks

Calum: sex baby lets talk about you and me. no seriously calum would set it up by suggesting that you listen to music bc music is just your thing ya know? so then he puts on some heavy baby-making shit like The Weeknd and you feel him press up against you and he would start grinding on you and then (if you’re anything like me) you’d punch yourself in the face and fling yourself into the ceiling bc this entire post got me fCKED UP

Dance Lessons

Bucky turns on some of that old music. It’s the music that brings a soft smiles to both his and Steve’s faces. You watch as Bucky reaches for Natasha’s hand and she gives it. The two of them twirl to the music and you make your way toward Steve who has a sad look on his face.
“Why don’t you dance?” You ask softly.
“Never learned how.” He says with a shrug but you can tell it bothers him.
“Come on.” You take his hand as the song changes over and lead him out to the open space. Bucky and Nat are so damn graceful. They move like one and you can tell that Nat has formal training. Bucky’s face always seems to relax and he looks younger. Less tormented.
“I don’t know what to do.” He admits softly.
“That’s okay. I’ll teach you.” Luckily Bucky’s got something nice and slow playing.
“What if I step on your toes?”
“Steve relax, we’ll start slow.” You take his hands and place one on your waist and take the other in your hand. “So this is a song that uses a four count. Start with your right foot forward.” He brings his right foot forward and you move your left back. “Now bring your other foot forward to meet this foot. Step to the side with your right foot and I’ll follow with my left.” He does as you instruct. “Nicely done. You’re fine at this. Now step back with the left foot and the next step is over to the left to make a box. This is a box step.” He’s much more graceful than he lead you to believe.“
"Lookin’ good punk.” Bucky calls with a grin causing Steve to stumble a bit.
“I’m going to count it out okay? One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.” You continue to count out the steps and he steps on your toes.
“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“Steve it’s fine. I was expecting much worse. Come on keep going.” He slides his hand back onto your waist and you wrap your hand in his. He’s looking down at your feet now that you’ve stopped counting. “Look at me, not our feet.” You catch him looking down again, “Steve.” You catch his chin with the hand that’s supposed to be on his shoulder. “Chin up.” You hold his chin in your hand as you continue doing the box step. After a few more rounds his chin is off your hand and you place it back onto his shoulder. That’s when the music changes. It’s upbeat Lindy hop music and you laugh. “I don’t know how to do this.” Bucky and Nat share a look then split apart and Bucky takes your hand and Natasha takes your place in Steve’s arms.
“Follow my lead doll.” Bucky says with a grin, it’s nice to see this Bucky. “So this is a cross step, triple step, step, step, step.” You follow his movements and catch on fairly quickly. His metal hand is cool in yours and his other hand is around your back resting in the middle of it. “Put your left hand more in the back.” He instructs and before you know it Bucky is spinning you in complicated circles. Your laughter filling the room. He’s a good leader and has a broad grin on his face. Steve seems to be catching on in the corner and just as Bucky is about to say something you pinch him. “What?”
“Leave him alone Barnes.” You say quietly and Bucky laughs.
“Yes ma'am.” He slows the steps so the two of you can talk, even if the only one slightly out of breath is you. “He likes you you know.”
“He’s a good guy. We get along well.”
“Not like that. Like Peg.” Your surprised eyes meet his and he gives you a half smirk. “You’re good for him. Thanks for helping him out when I couldn’t.”
“He missed you.”
“I know. I wasn’t the Bucky he knew, or needed. I needed to figure it out.”
“I know.” The music goes slow again and you slip out of Bucky’s grasp and back into Steve’s. “How did the Lindy go?”
“Not well. You looked amazing.”
“Maybe you should have been paying more attention to your teacher.” You tease.
“Maybe. You were a bit too distracting.” He says hesitantly and you grin up at him. You slide your free hand to the back of his neck and place a soft kiss on his lips. He smiles down at you, the two of you ignore the music for the rest of the evening and just sway to the music. Enjoying the time you get to spend together. As Avengers you never quite know when you’ll have downtime, so you’ll take the time you get.

Surrender Your Heart

This is some dark cs smut. The missing scene from 5x10

“He’s gone,” he breathes, leaning into her, as if a burden has been lifted from him.  The specter of the Dark One gone from beside them, leaving them alone in the woods.

She holds him and slowly he relaxes, his rage settling. And she can feel Killian behind the mask.

“It’s just us,” she tells him running her fingers over his cheek. “You and me.”

“Emma,” he says is another broken whisper. It’s a plea for help.

She moves closer standing up on her toes and she presses her lips to his, her hand going to the back of his neck, the curling ends of his hair sliding through her fingers.

He kisses her back eagerly. Her hand moves to his jaw, her thumb rubbing over his cheek. And it’s then she feels the tears on his cheek.

She pulls back searching his face, “Killian?”

He meets her gaze, eyes shining in the dark night. And he stands before her clad in the leather of a new coat and he is naked to her view. She has never seen him so vulnerable.  

“Why would you do this?” he asks and it’s barely audible, a choked thought.

“I can’t lose you,” she says because it is the truth. It’s all she has, and she’ll lay that bare to him too.

“I don’t know how to fight it.”

“Yes, you do, I have seen you fight it.” She tells him resting her hand over his heart. “The darkness can’t take that from you.”

“Show me how,” he murmurs against her lips.

She feels her self respond to his request before she had decided to, as surely as if he had been using the dagger. He doesn’t need it; she is powerless to resist the pull between them.  

Her fingers trail burning paths across him as she pushes the heavy coat from him. But it doesn’t diminish the man beneath, and the darkness flaring in him enhances his pride, adjusting his sure stance and setting the light in his eyes ablaze. If he was handsome before, now he is icy black fire.

He makes a sound, something rising from deep in his throat and it goes straight through her like a blade. But it is not blood that moistens her skin.

She rolls her shoulders shedding her new black scaly jacket. The night air is cool, but his touch sending goose bumps flitting over her flesh. She bites down on his bottom lip as she tears open his loose shirt.  He pulls back, his tongue running out over his swollen lip, and together they taste the tang of his blood.

With a dark chuckle he reaches out and pulls her into him. And she always loved the feel of his skin. The feel of the hair spread over his chest. Her head falls back as she gasps for air.

“Can you feel it?” he whispers in her ear.

He could be talking about so many lovely things. The way they are pressed together, the feel of their immortal hearts beating as though they could burst, the obvious way he wants her. But she knows he’s talking about the shadowy whisper within them. And ‘feel’ is not the right word.

It’s a name you can’t remember, the sight of pain, the mystery of night, a slinking dread, the need to hurt, the knowledge that you’ve already won, the sound of breaking bones.

It is the darkness.

And she can definitely feel it.

But he had asked her to help him fight it. So she reaches between them down to where he strains beneath leather. Reminding him there are ways to distract it, something more insatiable than the darkness.

“Not as much as I’d like,” she tells him teasing.

“As you wish,” he growls pulling her down to the forest floor on top of him.

She straddles him easing her hips down to his. His head falls back as he hisses out a breath. She always feels powerful when they are like this. She rocks against him, the fabric between them protesting, but neither of them seems to mind the friction.

She bends down pressing her lips to the spot below his jaw, to the edge of his beard. And makes her way until she can nip at his fluttering pulse, his collarbone. She lets her the tip of her tongue circle one of his nipples before she gently bites down on it. He lurches beneath her his hand gripping her arm.

“Emma,” he begs.

She smiles pressing a last kiss to the red skin. “I know,” she says.

She sits back farther her hands finding the waistband of his pants and making quick work of the laces and gently she peels the leather off.  He is exquisite, the black electricity sparking off him making her nerves tingle.

She licks a stripe up him, loving the way he squirms. And then she blows air softly across the wet skin, earning a strangled moan this time. She continues and maybe the darkness eggs her on as she tortures pleasure from him.

Unable to take any more he reaches down pulling at her hair. She releases him from her mouth with a wet pop and quickly tears back the last obstacle between them. Carefully, she moves back over him. The darkness in her purrs as they connect. This thing between them made whole.

They encourage each other in desperate cries and shallow breaths. There is the gentle embrace, the light caress of love that she remembers from the times before. But lurking beneath is a roiling cloud, tempting them. She can feel the darkness clawing at their love. The two pushing back against each other struggling for dominance, and she moves faster against him.  He rolls them taking charge, pressing her down into the rough ground.

She meets his eyes, his pupils blown wide, just a strip of blue to hold back the black. He sets a brutal pace, pushing her to the edge.

“Give in, love,” he rasps as the swirling red of his magic surrounds them, swallowing them, and the heady tug within her explodes.

It feels like suffocating, blackness appearing in front of her vision. And she feels herself float away, carried away on black wings to the deep.  

He rolls off her as she tries to find her way back to herself, but there is only the fog. She feels unmade.

Eventually they manage to get dressed, there are so many things they still need to do. His lips curve up as his hand finds her waist. It is not his smile and she can’t quite remember why that’s bad. He moves in to kiss her again, and only when another moan rumbles through him does she pull back.

“Okay, enough distractions.”

a/n: a mini semi-nsfw (but not really) sasuhina one-shot for my girl kia. cause you’re the best for snapchatting me while i was drunk af lmaooo (still am, but… irrelevant) <3

she knows she shouldn’t be letting this happen. she’s acutely aware of how this will change everything, but the way his lips move so firmly over her neck and the way her toes curl at his every movement against her makes the panic easy to ignore.

‘what about sakura?’ you want to say to him. what about naruto? you hear your conscience whisper. but as his tongue presses against your pulse point and as you pull him as close as you can (it’s still not close enough), the only person that matters is him.

and when he mumbles, the words incoherent and deep, too low for you to fully comprehend, and whispers your name huskily, you can hardly remember that one of the words he speaks is actually your name.

because when you’re with sasuke, nothing seems to make sense. everything is new and fresh and if your name wasn’t spoken by others on a daily basis you’d probably only ever recall it by the sound of his voice.

“hinata,” he groans against your chest, hands greedily running over ever inch of you, and for tonight, your name belongs to him. the way he purrs your own title against you, rendering you entirely unable to function.

you know that when tomorrow comes, you’ll be on your own. but sasuke’s tongue is enough persuasion to make you hold your ground.