and yes this was made well in advance

With You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, Angst

Word Count: 4K+

A/N: Holy shit, guys. This is the longest one shot I’ve ever written and I’m not sure what happened, but it just took on a mind of its own. Like, who am I? Anyways, enjoy!

You were never one to hold back, especially when you wanted something. In this case, it was someone. In fact, the more the object or person of interest resisted, the more determined you were; you always enjoyed a challenge. From the moment that Bucky Barnes first stepped foot out of the elevator doors, you were drawn to him.

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“You’re afraid to be happy” - Kakashi Hatake x Reader

Summary : Kakashi is in love with you…But pushes you away because he’s too afraid of loosing you, as every single persons he ever cared about died or left/betrayed him. 

Some more love for Kakashi, because I’ve been binge watching Naruto Shippuden and I’m kind of in love with him (also, I received requests for fics about Luffy and Zorro from One Piece, and characters from FMA and more Naruto, so expect to see more anime around here), hope you’ll like it ! : 

(My masterlist blog here :


It wasn’t often, that the famous Copy Ninja, Kakashi Hatake, talked about his feelings. Hell, it was so rare some would say he never does. 

But Yamato, one of his only remaining friend, knew better. 

Sometimes, when they were both very drunk, they’d talk. They wouldn’t always remember what about, but they’d talk.  

About their lives. What they like, don’t like, what make them happy, what brings them down…Your name often appears on Kakashi’s lips during those times.

Like today, or rather, tonight, while Kakashi helps Yamato to walk home. Or was it Yamato that helped Kakashi ? They were kind of slumped against each other’s, walking with difficulties, cheeks red because of the alcohol. 

After the scarecrow pronounced your name for the tenth time that night, Yamato finally dared to ask : 

-So, you love her ? 

-Who ?

-Who could I talk about ?

-(Y/N) ? 

Yamato nods. Or, tries to nod, because every movement that are a bit too vigorous makes him want to throw up. 

-Yes I do. 

-…I am confused, Kakashi-senpai. 

-What are you confused about, Tenzou ? 

-Don’t call me like that please. 

-Don’t call me “senpai” then. What are you confused about ? 

-Well, if you’re in love with her, and she is in love with you…why don’t you two just date ? 

-Because if we do, she’ll die. 

-…I’m even more confused now. Maybe I’m too drunk. Or you’re too drunk. 

-I’m definitely drunk, but I can still think straight. 

-I don’t get it. I don’t get you. She’s obviously madly in love with you ! And she’s beautiful, kind, caring, nice, extremely funny…

-I know all of that Yamato. But I can’t. 

-But…Why ? 

-Because everyone I ever loved either died or betrayed me that’s why ! She has to stay away, or something will happen ! It’s simple really ! 

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Rivalry || Jughead Jones

Prompt from anon: Hi there! I reaaaally love your blog and your writing! And I’d like to request a fic in which jughead and reader are rivals (both smart and witty) but they secretly admire each other. Thank you in advance!

A/N: This was a tough one to write, and I’m afraid I made it rather short, but I hope you enjoy it!

Gif by @lilieswho


“Now, does anyone know the square root of—”


Jughead rolled his eyes as you got the answer right. Again. He saw your smug smile as you looked at him and he scoffed, sitting back in his chair.

Ah yes, the rivalry of Y/N L/N and Jughead Jones III. It was well-known throughout the town.

For some reason, you and Jughead had a rivalry that went all the way back to elementary school. On the outside, the two of you despised each other, always talking to your friends about how much you hated the other.

However on the inside, it was a different story.

There was a mutual admiration for the other side. A secret enjoyment of the competition. One could even go as far to say that the two of you liked each other. Not that either of you would admit it to anyone. You loved to hate each other too much.

He sighed as you got the next question correct and looked at the clock. Math wasn’t his strongest subject. On the other hand, English, which was next period, was his favorite. And your Achilles heel. You looked back at him again only to see him smiling conceitedly at you this time, his finger pointing to the clock. Your smile dropped, seeing that the period was ending in three minutes. Then it was onto English. You glared at Jughead and faced forward again, listening intently to your teacher.

The bell rang before you knew it and you began to pack up your stuff. You didn’t realize that Jughead had made his way over to you and was waiting for you to notice him. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you spotted him directly next to you.

“Jesus,” you said, surprised and looked up at Jughead. “Yes, Jones, how may I help you?”

Despite the two of you being on a last name basis, you couldn’t ignore the butterflies in your stomach as he smirked at you.

“L/N,” he stated, the words smoothly rolling off his tongue. “What are you doing after school?”

You rose your eyebrows at that. The two of you never conversed, let along hung out. You decided to humor him and play along.

“Well, I was going to go to the movies in the city, but I’m interested in hearing what you have to say.” you said as the two of you began walking down the hallway to your next class.

Everyone looked at the both of you, wondering why you were talking to one another.

Didn’t you two hate each other?

Jughead chuckled.

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go Pop’s with me after school?” he asked casually.

You bit back a smile.

“Jughead Jones, are you asking me on a date?” you asked as you reached your classroom, turning around to face him.

He smiled cheekily at you.

“Pop’s. 3:15. We’ll talk more after class.” he said before walking past you into the English classroom.

You bit the inside of your cheek and shook your head, smiling as you followed him into the classroom.

As the teacher began the lesson and Jughead began answering every question flawlessly, you were unable to focus, your mind on your and Jughead’s date after school. After one particular question, Jughead mimicked your actions from earlier, and turned around to look at you with a shit-eating grin on his face. You snorted and sat back in your chair, shaking your head.

Damn you, Jughead Jones.


A/N: Hope you liked it! Send me feedback!


@gottalovetheapocalypse @lydixstiles @jughead-from-riverdale @pinkhappypanda @iamthegoatmaster @subsi4123 @reginaphlanageadams @river-vixns @deanskitten @latenightbooknerd @lostinpercyseyes @captainelsaeverdeen @itsjaynebird @allineedisconnor @juggie-jones-iii @superoriginalteenwolf @sastielstan @1amluke

An unpopular opinion: The end-game will be Eren~Armin

Happy birthday Armin!!! Hopefully this post can cheer up my fellow Armin fans.

Before chapter 86 came out, I thought, and feared, that Armin will be separated from Eren and Mikasa by the end of the series. I thought like that, because of the several interviews that Isayama gave us about Armin and Eren having a different way of thinking, possibly going in different paths, and because of the very strong Eren x Mikasa fan-base (goddamn reddit) that attacks anyone thinking that Eren and Mikasa could be separated, without any real arguments, other than ‘Mikasa would never leave Eren’, but still, it influenced me, sadly.

I’ve realized that my thoughts aren’t really based on the actual content of the manga and its foreshadowing. However, there was one thing from the manga that I thought supports that theory: Before chapter 85, we believed that Armin is a part of the 'defiled race’ within the walls, while Eren has 'special bloodline’ from outside the walls, because that’s where Grisha came from, and Mikasa as well has special Ackerman/Asian bloodline. But, chapter 86 blew that away completely. Eren doesn’t have ‘special bloodline’, in fact, Armin and him are Elodians, while Mikasa is the only non-Elodian character that we know of.

I’m usually quite pessimistic, and after ch86 I again started questioning how Armin will get separated from Mikasa and Eren. I’ve re-read some chapters, and after a long thinking I’ve realized…that all I could find from the manga is foreshadowing for Mikasa to get separated from Eren and Armin at the end, not Armin from Eren and Mikasa.

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anonymous asked:

24 with jeff hardy?

Prompt: .“It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.”

A/N:Putting under read more because I got a little carried away XD

You were so excited Jeff and Matt were making their return to the WWE, not only would they be in the tag team championship match but they would be dong it at Wrestlemania 33. You stood backstage with some old friends watching as The New Day announced that there would be a 4th contender for the tag team title. Every one thought The New Day were inserting themselves into the match up, until the music hit. The crowd went crazy as your husband and his brother performed their iconic entrance.

“It’s great to see the boys back.” You turned to see Nattie standing behind you, arms crossed and a smirk plastered across her face. Out of all the women Nattie was one of your oldest and closest friends and it had been a while since you had seen her. You pull Nattie into a hug.

“I can tell they’re already happy to be here, they haven’t even found out the results of the match and they were already acting like they’d won.” Nattie chuckled turning her attention to the match.

“The crowd looks excited to see the boys back as well.” you nodded wincing when one of the boys landed a bit awkwardly. Although you’d been married to Jeff for 8 years and dating him for 4 years before then you’d still never got used to some of the landings. The match was heading in favor of the Hardy Boys, Matt was currently trying to grab the betls while your husband was setting up one of the taller ladders. Sheamus and Cesaro were currently lay on some ladders suspended between the ring and the barrier, Jeff was now climbing a ladder above them.

“Oh no.” Nattie gripped your arm, both of you knowing what was coming next. Jeff climbed to the top of the ladder as you nervously bit your nails and he performed a perfect swanton bomb off the top of the ladder landing on top of Sheamus and Cesaro, breaking the ladder in the process. As all that was happening Matt managed to defend of Anderson and was now holding the Raw tag team belts. The crowd and everyone backstage errupted into cheers, Nattie pulling you into a hug, you smile was uncontrollable.

“I can’t believe they did it! This is going to be great for them.” Nattie spoke but she coud see you were itching to go and seem them, she gave you a final hug promising to text you later. Walking to the Gorilla you saw the boys heading towards you, running towards them you tackled both of them into a hug.

“You guys did it!”

Matt chuckled at you hoising the belt higher up on his shoulder.“What gave that away?”

You punched his shoulder and he pretended to be hurt by it.

“Jeff are you just gonna stand there and let her beat me up?” He looked towards his brother for assitance but Jeff just nodded.

“Yes I am going to let her beat you up.” You smilled at Jeff and poked your tounge out at Matt as he walked away.

“Whipped!” He shouted back to you two. Jeff just chuckled and shook his head.

“So, how does it feel to be the champ?” You smile up at Jeff, leaning up to give him a kiss.

“I’ve been a champ for 12 years. This is just the icing on the cake.” He gave you a wink before wrapping an arm round your waist, pulling you in the direction Matt just went.

“You’re such a cheeseball.” You both cuckled, stopping every now and then with people congradulating Jeff.

“And yet you’ve been married to me for 8 years.” Rounding the corner you caught up with Matt who was waiting for you two by the promo area. After a couple of backstage interviews and photographs the boys decided to go out and celebrate. Back at the hotel you were putting the finishing touches to your make up when you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist.

“You look absolutly stunning babe.” Jeff muttered as he pressed some kisses along your shouler and up your neck. You relaxed back into his touch and let out a contented sigh.

“You don’t look to shabby yourself.” Taking in your husbands apperance you notice he’s wearing some black jeans and a white button button up. His hair was tied up in a bun making his jaw look even sharper. Bringing your hand up you rub it genty along his beard, pulling him down for a passionate kiss. Jeff’s hands slid down your waist to grip your butt as your hands gripped the back of his neck causing him to moan a little.

“We better get going or Matt and Reby will think we aren’t going.”

“I’m sure they’d manage if we didn’t turn up.” He smirked, leaning down to capture your lips again, pushing his tongue into your mouth causing you to moan this time. Reluctantly you pulled away making Jeff pout.

“Come on you. Lets go. We can resume this later.” You winked at him moving past him to walk out the door. Jeff slapped your ass has you walked by.

“Damn right we will.”

You finally caught up with Matt and Reby at the bar and a few hours later its safe to say everyone was a little more than drunk. You and Reby decided to be the responsible ones and not drink as much as the boys. Looking across the room Matt and Jeff were currently joking with some of the other superstars who had arrived at the same bar. Reby let out a yawn looking at her watch.

“We better get going. I think the boys have to be up soon.” She yelled over the music. Looking at your phone she was right, it was nearing 3am and the boys had to be up at 6. Walking over to the boys Jeff saw you giving you a goofy drunk smile.

“Baabbbeeee. I missed you.” He pulled you into a sloppy kiss causing you to giggle.

“You saw me like 5 minutes ago.”

“Exactly…those 5 minutes were the lonnnggeessttt 5 minutes of my life.” Shaking your head at his drunken words you grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the waiting taxi. Jeff was having a little trouble walking so helped him but slipping an arm around his waist, which of course he made a dirty joke about.

What fet like the longest journey back to the hotel you and Reby managed to get the boys back into their rooms. Shutting the door behind you and Jeff you turned to be face to face with said man. He placed his hands on your waist and pulled you into another kiss.

“No no mister. You need to head to bed.” Pulling away from the kiss you pulled Jeff to bed and made him sit down, turing away you went to grab him a glass of water but Jeff grabed a hold of you pulling you down to sit in his lap.

“You said we could resume this later….Well it’s later.” His hot breath fanned across your neck making you shiver. Prying yourself from his grip you stood up.

“Yes but you also have to be up in….2 hours” You managed to avoid most of his advances and successfully pulled his shoes off. Pushing him to lie down you could see that he quickly became tired. Placing a kiss to his hair line you grabed a bottle of water and some painkillers out of your bag and placed them on the dresser. Quickly chaging out of your dress you slip on some pj’s and cuddle to Jeff, he was not going to be happy having only got 2 hours sleep.

At 6am your alarm went off and you heard a groan from behind you, reaching out to turn your alarm off you felt Jeff pull you back into him.

“Morning sleepy. How’s your head?” You gently brush some stray strands of hair from out of his face.

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus and then a car…..and the bus came back just for good measure.” You giggled at him, placing a kiss to his forehead. Swinging your legs over the side of the bed you streatch and yawn, regretting staying up so late with the boys. Grabbing the bottle of water and painkillers you sit on Jeff’s side of the bed and hand them to him. He took them and looked up at you thanking you.

“I feel like a vodka would work better.” He grinned at you swallowing the tablets and chugging half the bottle of water.

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.” Standing up you head to the shower and turn it on. “Come on Mr Champ. You’ve got a busy day ahead and I still have a promise to keep.” You winked at him but Jeff simply looked confused. Striding across the bedroom you pulled Jeff in for a passionate kiss causing him to gasp a little. You took the opportunity to slide your tounge into his mouth and you both battled for dominance. You both pull away slightly brethless.

“Oh that promise.” Jeff looked at you biting his lip.

“Yeah I heard it’s a great cure for headaches.” With that Jeff picked you up and headed to the shower.

“Well why didn’t you begin with that.”

Prompt from this list.


Love me like you do (Part 6)-Balem series

A/N: I’m struggling to make this a slow burn. Fuuuuuuck me. Balem tap that ass already.

Originally posted by frankenanda666


“Wait, I-”

But, your words fell upon deaf ears as the young serving boy shut the doors to Balem’s chambers and walked off. He left you there, silent, confused, and above all a bit disappointed. Not so much at anyone in particular, that is, other than yourself. To think you’d sit idly by and allow that man to show off in front of his associates. As if you were some prized cow at an auction, it was a bit pathetic in your mind. Yet…

You touched the dip of your neck, biting your lip in thought as you trailed your fingertips down to your sternum. Right where he kissed you, it was an odd feeling. The way his lips felt pressed into your skin, soft, yet there was a pressure behind it that spoke volumes. Like the kiss itself was a mark of ownership. You could still feel the warmth of his mouth against your chest, and as much as you hated to admit it the sensations were exhilarating. Truth be told, you hadn’t been with anyone like that in a long time, work kept you busy and so did your classes. Maybe it was just your body reacting to the unfamiliar touch. Either way, the blush on your cheeks was enough to make you groan in frustration. You patted at them, trying to rid the flush of red before he came back and saw you in such a state. You already made up your mind, that as soon as he got back you’d beg, yes you planned to resort to that, to go home. All of this was too much, and you hoped that somehow they had technology that wiped memories because you weren’t sure you could cope well back on earth if you knew that above you was an entire world, no universe, of other beings far more advanced than you.


You strode over to the windows, pulling back the large black curtains and gazing out at the galaxy. You felt so insignificant then, as if your existence meant nothing anymore because how could earth or any other planet be so important when you had palaces like this, settled on planets that you once thought were just dust and rock. With a sigh, you banged your forehead against the glass watching the stars flicker passed and burn into a haze of different colors. Regardless of your current existential crisis, you had to admire the beauty of it all. This kingdom alone was something gorgeous, with black and gold decorating almost every wall, and lights that floated above. Like colorful flames that couldn’t harm you.

“He doesn’t skimp on decorations…”

The lights above on his ceiling floated along the edges, some gathering in the middle like a glorious chandelier. They sparked blue, green, even colors you didn’t think existed on the spectrum. It was amazing really, and as you watched them dance across the expanse of marble you weren’t even aware that someone was close behind you, watching your every movement carefully.

“There you are, my little bird.”

His husky voice echoed through the room, and you stiffened at the way it vibrated along the chamber walls. The demanding tone never once left his words, and even though you didn’t dare turn around you knew he was inching closer to you. You felt like a trapped animal, awaiting its demise and as you closed your eyes accepting your fate, the only thing that came was the hot air of his breath as he dipped down, lips next to your ear.

“Turn around.”

Your fingers pressed hard into the glass, and you swallowed nervously as he the heat of his body wafted over you. This was not the situation you expected to be in today, however, you were now all too aware of what this man wanted from you. You knew the minute he decided to eye you hungrily when he first saw you in that dress, to the way he kissed your skin, the way he held you in his lap. The serving girl from before was right, he likes new play things, and yet the worse part was…it was working.

His advances were actually creating a turmoil in you that you hadn’t felt for a long time. There was a pull there, like a dangerous game, tempting to play but you didn’t want to risk it. What’s wrong with me, you thought, biting down on your lip so hard it almost bled. You tried to convince yourself it was this entire crazy whirlwind of an adventure, or that you were just excessively needy, anything but the actual fact. Which was that you were hopelessly attracted to this stranger.

“I said, turn around.”

His tone was rising in its demand, the slight annoyance behind it obvious as he gripped your shoulder and flipped you around to face him. His green eyes were dark with emotion, but the rest of his features were stern, like he was already angry with you.

In reflex, you reached up to grip his wrist, trying to tug his hand from your body and push him away. But, his grasp was tight, and even if you managed to pull away and free yourself there wasn’t anywhere to run.


“Shh.” He pressed a finger to your lips, tracing the outline of them as he hotly purred out his intentions.

“Take off your dress.”

That was about as much as you could take. Attraction or not, you couldn’t give in to the natural reaction of your body. This wasn’t earth, this wasn’t home.

With as swift a movement as you could muster, you reached up and smacked him right across his cheek, and instinctively scrambled back into the window as if that would protect you from him wrath.

You watched him warily, your own breathing labored in fear as he stood silent. His face was turned, but you felt your entire body run pale as his eyes drifted over to you. They held you firmly in place, and you could already see the swirls of rage building in them.

Before you could utter an apology he was on you, hand roughly gripping your cheeks as he lifted you towards him, his face was mere inches from your own, but you could tell he was beyond angry with you.

“How dare you?!”

With his fingers holding your chin tightly, you hardly had room to speak, but you muffled between his hand, trying to get your apology out.

He seemed pleased enough with that, though his grip didn’t loosen. He knew exactly what you wanted to say, and all he did was chuckle darkly, smirking down at you.

“I admire your spirit…it’s been ages since anyone dared to lay a finger on me.”

His eyes trailed down to your lips, then across your neck and down to your heaving chest where they stayed put.

“Do you know what happened to them?”

Despite your current situation, you immediately spoke up, mumbling out the words he expected to hear.

“You killed them.”

His smirk grew into a devilish smile, and he walked you back into the window, leaving no distance between your bodies. Even after your rejection, he was still in a predicament of need, and that much was very clear.

“Little bird…so small and naive you are…”

He released his hold on you, striding over to the large dressed near the end of the room. You watched as he unclipped his cape from the high gold collar he wore, and with a grace that betrayed his anger, he tossed it along the lounge chair. He didn’t even seem to care that you were still in the room, and as soon as you saw him remove his black top you turned away, a blush forming on your cheeks.

All you could hear was the ruffling of clothing, and drawers being opened, but you wouldn’t dare to look back. You were still trying to regain your composure from his outburst.

To cut the awkward silence that you felt developing you spoke up, keeping your gaze steady on the wall. “Did you kill him…?”

Balem didn’t see a reason to answer you, he continued dressing in the corner, throwing his rings in a fine glass bowl. The sound of metal clanging around unsettled you, but you raised your tone even higher.

“Did you kill that man?”

“My business is of no concern to you.”

His haughty attitude was starting to wear your patience thin, and though that fear of consequence was still there you pressed forward.

“Did you kill him?!”

Balem looked over his shoulder at you, and said with as little care as possible, “Yes.”

Though that man was hardly worth anyone’s time, you weren’t exactly keen on having him die. You weren’t important enough to kill for, but you couldn’t help but feel like somehow his actions towards you cost him his life.

“Why did-”

You heard him scoff, clearly unamused by your sentiment and as you finally worked up the courage to look at him, you only felt your resolve break all over again. He stood before his wardrobe, shirtless, clad in only lounge pants that were a fine gold. His back was to you, but you could already make out the fine muscles of it. His body was sculpted like a gods, and as much as you wanted to look away you couldn’t.

“What I did for him was a mercy.”

Balem turned on his heel, meeting your gaze and making you shrink back in shame. Even if he had noticed your eyes on him, he didn’t seem to care. He just moved towards his bed, clearly not interested in keeping this current conversation going.

“Killing people isn’t a mercy.”

“I create life!”

You flinched at his yelling, noting that his business dealings was probably another of his restricted topics.

“And I destroy it…”

“Is that what you’re doing to earth?”

Balem eyed you, standing a few feet away, and he seemed displeased with this current chain of events. It was not lost on you that his original intention was to have you share his bed that night, and seeing how he was a man used to getting what he wanted, he wasn’t exactly content right now.

“Your planet is merely a resource waiting to be converted into capitol. And this entire enterprise is just a small part in a vast and beautiful machine defined by evolution, designed to a single purpose: to create profit.”

You couldn’t comprehend his words, not fully. In your eyes what he did was simply murder, and even if the rules on his planet, or universe, were different than earth’s you couldn’t excuse him for that.

“Those people have families.”

You could see his lip curl at the corner in disgust, but he didn’t say much else. He just messed around with a tablet that was by his bed, deep in thought. Every now and then his eyes would scan over to you, watching you with interest. It’s like he wanted you to move, to do something but when you only stood there, fidgeting with your hands he rolled his eyes.

“You earthlings are all the same. So tied up in your sentimentality.”

You looked up at him, nervously chewing your lip as he placed the tablet back down and reached for you. His fingers danced along your arm, until he curled them around your wrist and pulled you to him.

A gasp escaped your mouth, and you placed your hand up, trying to add a barrier against both your chests. But, your fingertips met his smooth skin, and you automatically looked at them, blushing softly when you saw just how defined his muscles were. His lean waist dipped into a hard V, the hem of his pants dangling just a bit off his hipbones. You became flustered quite easily, all your arguments now a muddled mess inside your head. His hold on you was something to be desired, but right now you just needed to get away.

“I can smell your arousal. Why deny yourself the pleasure?”

His low voice hung heavy in the air, and you took a chance, gazing up at him as he smirked. Even after all the arguments, he was clearly hell bent on bedding you. You had to wonder if this was a nightly ritual for him. In fact, you were nearly positive a woman shared his bed every night. Men of power often had a harem of women awaiting them, and you imagined he was no different. Though, thinking back on that serving girl’s words you guessed he picked women of the week and had his way with them until he grew bored and wanted something new.

“Let me go home.”

He seemed amused by your pleas, and just shook his head, bringing his hand up to cup your chin.


“Why not…?”

You were afraid to ask, but the desire to be away from all this only grew as your attraction to him did.

Balem looked you dead in the eye, the green of his irises shining against the many colored lights on his ceiling. He studied you, carefully, taking in the way you breathed, to the way you gnawed nervously at your lip. And with as delicate a touch he could manage, he trailed his fingertip down your jaw, admiring the curve of your neck and shoulder. You felt his nails dig softly into your skin, making your heart race wildly in your chest. Your lips parted, a quivery breath escaping you as he dragged the dress down along your side. The cool air hit your flushed skin, goosebumps running along your arms and making you visibly shiver before him.

You closed your eyes tightly, trying to will away the heat pooling in your stomach. But, his touch was maddening, addicting, and no matter what you did to convince yourself otherwise it only made it worse. He was seducing you, and he was doing a damn fine job of it.

The dress fell at your waist, the bottom half still clinging to you and covering your most intimate of areas, but there you stood, before this lord, chest on complete display for his hungry eyes.

You were far too entranced by him, that letting him continue was just something your body allowed. And as he gazed down at you, fingers brushing along your arm you opened your eyes.

The lust was evident in his features, lips parted just a bit, eyes dark, and breathing growing shallow. You wondered if this was the sight all the other women saw before he took them. But, you tried not to dwell on that, the idea of him doing things like that to you only made a blush creep along your cheeks.


His compliment made you fidget uncomfortably, and without warning he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you tightly to his chest and tossing you in the bed. You bounced softly on the mattress, gasping when he climbed atop you and immediately went for your neck. Your nerves set fire, leaving you speechless as his lips connected with the pulse of your neck. He kissed a hot trail down your throat, tongue dipping out to the soothe the reddening skin.

Your mind screamed at you to stop him, to push him off and run to the nearest corner. But, his lips, his heavy lidded gaze, and that touch of his fingers, it made everything useless to react.

A sigh ran passed your lips, and the Primary took that as a sign to continue, which he eagerly did. He licked over your throat, and before you can even say anything he bites down. The pain radiated down your spine, yet at the same time the pleasure of it pooled between your legs. You moaned out, instinctively bucking your hips up. In that moment you noticed just how turned on he was, and every part of you itched to rub into him, to feel that bulge rough against your inner thighs. But, as he sucked down on the bite mark your mind awoke, and without a second thought you shoved at his chest, his lips releasing your skin.

You glanced up at him, blushing madly at the current situation. His hair fell over his eyes, but even so you can tell he’s completely annoyed and in a very high state of need.

“Little bird…” It comes out like a growl, his green eyes glazed with lust, but he grits his teeth and runs a hand through his hair, slicking it back once more into its usual style. He moved off of you, breathing heavily as he tried to calm his aching arousal. He glanced at you, eyes settling upon your bare chest, and he licked at his lips. You could tell he wanted to reach out and devour you, to take you hard and make you his, but with whatever control he still had he rose from the bed.

He composed himself, and angrily barked back at you. “Draw me a bath.”

He walked away for a moment and you try to collect yourself as you cover your body with your arms. Out of embarrassment, you shakily rise from the bed, and quickly move towards the bathing area. You just wanted him to leave you alone right now, and if giving him what he wanted helped then so be it.

As you kneeled before the large golden faucets, you studied your reflection in the water, gasping when you saw the large purple bruise on your neck. In shame you clasped your hand over it, trying in vain to use your hair as a mask for it.

You heard footsteps behind you, and assuming it was him you rose, keeping your back to him as he neared you.

“Dress yourself.”

You looked over your shoulder, squeaking when he harshly shoved a silk robe into your arms, and you frantically covered yourself with it.

“T-Thank you…”

Balem scoffed, and moved forward towards the bath, and it was then you realized he was completely nude. You should’ve turned away, but being completely flustered will cause strange reactions. Your eyes roamed his chiseled body, widening slightly when you noticed his…more than well endowed…area.

“Do you wish to join me, little dove.”

You watched as the water sloshed around his hips, and he ran his hand along the surface, collecting some of it in his palm. His eyes met yours, and you found yourself at a loss of words.


A/N: Feedback welcomed, hope y'all liked.

Nature Boy

Part 1 of the Come Attrition, Come Hell ficlet requested by @randombiochemist… This is only a sequel insofar as it’s my headcanon of what I think happened after that story. I still want people to be able to decide for themselves. 🙂

It was weird jumping back in to this story, but very fun. I hope you like it!


221B Baker Street

The name is Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221B Baker Street.”

Sherlock almost smiled to himself as he ascended the 17 steps to his flat, the wood creaking beneath him as it always had done.

Well, not always, he supposed. There was the incident with jumping off the roof of a hospital and the subsequent pretending to be dead for 2 years while he tracked down the last of Moriarty’s Network. The wood hadn’t creaked then. Not for him, anyway. And then there was that whole “solitary confinement for 2 weeks” thing that he had to deal with that one time. He had to concede that the wood hadn’t creaked for him during that time either. Not to mention this whole more recent business with his sister blowing up and nearly completely obliterating the 1st floor of Mrs. Hudson’s house. And though, miraculously, his bedroom and the flight of 17 steps had managed to escape the ordeal little worse for the wear (and somehow the floor on which the bomb had actually landed, oddly), he’d still stayed away during the beginning of the reconstruction.

But now everything, for the most part, was back in its place… including himself. Because he belonged here. He’d thought, once, years ago, on the night that The Woman had appeared in his room to challenge everything he knew about himself and his world, that she she was an invader, and he was under attack… because 221B was his castle. His fortress. A place where he could be alone, and where he was protected by impenetrable walls both inside and out. Now, however, he realized that his flat here on Baker street was something so much more than a castle or a battlefront: It was a home. It was his home. A home complete with hearth and warmth that always accompanied regular appearances by friends and family, people who loved him and whom he was now more than comfortable loving back. Because love wasn’t a weakness, oh no. Love, sentiment, bonds; they were an advantage. Caring was an advantage. People caring in return was an advantage. He’d heard over an over that there was strength in numbers, and always chalked it up to another of many useless platitudes he’d heard over the course of his 4 decades long life… But John and Rosie Watson, Molly Hooper, Mrs. Hudson, and even Eurus and Mycroft Holmes: their love was his strength, and it gave his life a meaning, a context, he’d never known he’d needed. He was better for it, wiser for it.

Though, he knew, all of his thoughts and emotions would forever be subject to the inner processes of his mind and the deeper seated levels of who he was – and who he was, for better or worse, would always be Sherlock Holmes – he also understood now one of the most important things about himself and, indeed, everyone around him…

That he was human, and that it was okay.

Sherlock stepped through the parlor door and began untying his scarf, before unconsciously turning to look toward his bedroom on the other end of the corridor. He began slowly toward the room, pulling his scarf off as he walked. Once there, he threw the garment on his bed, followed shortly after by his coat. Something was off, but he couldn’t quite place exactly what it was right away. His eyes traveled across the space from his bed, to his drawers, to his armoire, to his nightstand. Nothing was out of place, but…

He closed his eyes just for a few moments, but then snapped them open.

She’d been here.

And then her text alert emitted from his pocket.

He pulled out his phone, unlocked it, and read the message.

The mantel.

He was off toward the parlor and standing at the mantle in a matter of moments – a wide, flat, black box staring him in the face.

Another text alert.

A housewarming gift.

Sherlock put his phone in his pocket and took the box from the mantle. He pulled the lid off, and smiled a small, likely imperceptible to anyone who may have happened to be watching him, smile at the contents: a simple, though clearly well made, black frame – and behind the glass, a note:

To remember what matters most.

She’d known of the photo that Sherlock had kept of himself and his brother on his chest of drawers for years. He’d admitted to her finally that it had served as a reminder that he could always count on Mycroft when he really needed him… And after everything, he knew that to be more true now than he’d ever realized in the past. So this gift, this frame, if he understood correctly, was to house a new reminder.

He immediately thought of his family. His real family which would now forever include his friends as well as his blood… And he knew, too, that it included The Woman. And her daughter.

Well, their daughter.

Sherlock looked up suddenly as though startled, nearly dropping the frame in his hand. No, wait. She’d never said that. She’d never even hinted at it… but… yes. It made sense. He knew it made sense, and he knew he was right. He knew it, just the way that he sometimes knew anything, or the way he could predict someone’s moves weeks in advance. He didn’t always understand it, as even he couldn’t always keep up with the way his mind worked, but he’d made the deduction somehow, and there was no doubt in his mind. The child was his. Irene Adler’s little girl was his daughter. His family.

She had to be. He wouldn’t accept anything different.

He set the frame back down on the mantel and pulled his phone from his pocket. Having recently only begun to understand the importance of family, he still understood how important, how… fundamentally monumental this was. It was time to stop repressing. Time to stop hiding. Time to stop holding it all back, or holding it all in. He hadn’t seen it before, because he hadn’t want to see it before – but he saw it now, and even the racing of his heart and the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the apprehension, the anger, and even the fear – none of it could deter him.

Why didn’t you tell me?

His text was simple, and most might even say “cryptic”, but not Irene Adler. She’d understand immediately.

A few moments later, her text tone broke the silence yet again.

I knew you’d figure it out when you were ready.

He didn’t hesitate before replying.

I’m ready.

1 Month Earlier

Sherlock stood behind Mycroft’s desk where he sat, his hands folded in front of his face.

“And what do you get from these meetings with our dear sister, Brother Mine?”

“I get to know my sister.”

Mycroft smiled ironically.

“Ah, the power of music.” Mycroft sat up. “Tell me, aren’t you frightened of a repeat of, shall we call it… her idea of fun and games?”

Sherlock laughed shortly, though his face barely registered it at all.

“Do I underestimate her? No. Do I fear her?” Sherlock shook his head once, slightly. “No.”

“You care for her.”

“Of course I care for her.”

Mycroft raised his forehead.

“Well, that’s certainly new.”

“It’s not new. It’s been held at bay by years of repressed psychological torment, or did you forget the part where you lied to me my whole life while terrifying me with stories of east winds and dogs?”

“To be quite fair, the dog was completely your fabrication.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and took a step toward his brother’s desk.

“She’s brilliant. She’s a genius beyond what you and I can even comprehend, and you locked her away in a cell with a bed and a table…” he slammed his fist on the desk, before leaning over it with both hands, but his brother only looked slightly startled by these actions. “I was alone for two weeks, Mycroft. Two weeks.” he stood straight, and began half pacing. “With nothing to preoccupy my time with but the thoughts inside my own mind.” he finished this sentence by making an agitated twirling motion near the back of his head.

Sherlock stopped, biting his lip and placing his hands on his hips, before turning back to his brother.

“It was hell.” he continued, and then shook his head. “And I can’t even begin to imagine what nearly a lifetime of solitude could have been like for a Holmes.”

Mycroft swallowed and sat back in his chair.

“She’s a murderer, Sherlock.” he started. “What would you suggest I had done?”

“Nothing different from what you did.” Sherlock answered honestly. “But now I can help her. I’m her brother, and I promised to bring her home.”

“I’m assuming in a figurative sense.”

“Real enough for her. Home doesn’t have to be a place, Mycroft.”

“I’ve seen redemption take a lot of forms, but never the form of a violin.”

Sherlock walked to the corner of the room and grabbed his coat from the stand.

“There’s no such thing as redemption.” He said, pulling the Belstaff over his shoulders. “We will always have always done what we’ve done, and will always be what we have been. Life isn’t a balance sheet.”

“And what is it?”

Sherlock put his hand on the door handle and turned to Mycroft.

“Life.” he responded, before pulling the door open and leaving his brother alone in his office.

221B Baker Street

Sherlock had never noticed how similar in appearance he and The Woman were… not until this moment when he looked over the results of the melding of those features on one face. Deep blue eyes set in to a background of sharp angles, dark, curly brown hair… Pale skin flushed with just enough color on the cheeks.

He sat back from his computer screen, a tightening in his chest beginning to make it difficult for him to breath.

This face was Irene, and this face was him… and she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He felt an odd and, he thought, unearned sense of pride as he examined the expression of curiosity on her perfect young face, because he’d done little to contribute to her life other than some genetic coding… But he loved her. Easily and without expectation; loved her more than he would have given himself credit for being capable of, even now.

But as his thoughts turned to Irene’s husband, and his daughter being raised by another man, his hands balled to fists on either side of the computer.

He closed his computer, rotating his jaw before standing and buttoning his jacket button. He ruffled his hand through his hair, feeling the anger mount, feeling the helplessness pool, feeling the hatred and bile rise from the pit of his stomach…

I knew you’d figure it out when you were ready.

Sherlock picked up a mug from the table and, with a sound of anguished fury escaping his chest, hurled it across the room and against the wall. The ceramic shattered loudly, and cold tea dripped down the wall paper as though the yellow happy face were crying.

Sherlock swallowed, his breathing ragged.

Irene Adler. The Woman. He’d never forgive her for this.


Why Are There Letters in Math?

A/N: A request from @xinhaleredveinsx for a Spencer x Reader where they are really good friends and the reader is taking classes in writing and English. She hopes to teach, but one of the classes she is taking is a calculus class and she sucks at it, so she asks Spencer for help. @coveofmemories


“Spence!” you screamed, knocking on the door repeatedly. “Spence, open the door! I need help!” She continued pounding on the door with both hands until he sleepily answered the door. 

“Yes, you do need help,” he yawned. He turned around, his blanket still lazily wrapped around his shoulders as he walked into the room. You’d barged into his dorm room randomly so many times that he trusted you to close the door as you invited yourself in. “Why in particular this time?”

“I suck!” you exclaimed. “I suck so hard.”

Laughing, he fell back onto his bed. “Again, I agree,” he said, grimacing as you smacked him hard in the side of the arm. “But why?”

“Calculussssss…,” she whined. “I do not have the brain for math. That’s why I’m an English major because my brain won’t do numbers. I do not want to have to take this class again. Please, for the love of God, help me pass this class.” You bounced down on to the bed next to him and snuggled your head into his shoulder. “Please help your bestie out,” you said, purposely quivering your lip to gain his sympathies.

“Alright, you gigantic pain in my ass,” he said. “When is this test? I know it’s a test because that’s the only reason you panic this much. And it’s the only thing that gets you to beg like a sad puppy.”

“Tomorrow,” you replied. “It’s good to have a best friend with a brain that’s the complete opposite of yours. This afternoon? During our free period?”

“Sounds good. I’ll meet you in the library at 3. For now, I have to intravenously inject caffeine into my system so that I can get ready for class,” he laughed.


After receiving your final paper grade from your class on Shakespeare, an A of course, you made your way over to the library with a cup of coffee for yourself and Spencer. 

While you waited for him, you pulled out your calculus book and attempted to look at the page. It all looked like Greek to you. Why were there letters in math? Numbers were math, letters were language. Why? WHY? As you attempted to to decipher what the fuck this book was trying to tell you, you gave up, hitting your head on the table just as Spencer walked into the library.

“Can’t get it, can you?” he laughed, watching as you repeatedly knocked your head into the book on the table. The only thing that kept her from continuing her assault on her own head was the fact that Spencer dropped his enormously heavy book bag right next to her ear, scaring the crap out of her.

“No, I can’t,” you replied, snapping your head up at him. “I can’t. Because it’s greek. Why the fuck are there letters in math?! They belong with words, not with numbers. Once the introduction of letters happens in math, I lose all interest. Now sit your butt down and help me.” 

Over the course of the next hour and a half, Spencer did his best to explain the concept of derivatives, which is what your test was focused on. At first, no matter what he said, it sounded like the parents and teachers in a Charlie Brown cartoon - wah, wah, wah…wah, wah. But after a while, some of it started to sink in. Despite the fact that he was a mathematical genius and you were about as brilliant in this area as a slice of swiss cheese, he took his time attempting to explain things; he never once lost patience. 

“So what is the difference between first and second derivates?” he asked, wondering if you had absorbed anything over the course of the past hour and a half.

“The first derivative is the slope of the tangent line to the function at the “x” point, right?” you asked confused. He nodded, urging you to continue before you lost your train of thought. When it came to numbers, the train didn’t take long to run out of gas. “If the derivative is positive, then the function is increasing and if the derivative is negative then the function is decreasing.”

“And second derivatives?” he asked with a raised eye. There was a look of pride in his eyes. That probably meant you were grasping this ridiculous concept. 

For a second, you looked down at the book again. “The second derivative of a function is the derivative of the derivative of that function?”

“Yes,” he said excitedly, clinking his coffee cup against yours. “If the second derivative is positive?”

“If it’s positive, then the function f is concave up, so it looks like a U, and if it’s negative, then the function f is concave down and it looks like an upside down U,” you said, semi-confidently. “You think I might be able to pass this bullshit?”

He snorted, taking the final sip of his coffee and throwing the cup in the garbage can across from you. “I think you might just pass,” he said. “You are brilliant. Just not in math. What made you decide on English and writing as a major? Anything besides the fact that you like it?”

“Thanks, Spence,” you said, closing up the book and putting it in your bag. “And I just think that there is way too much ugliness in the world and people need a way to escape that. Creative writing lets us do that, and if I can teach people how to write stories that bring others out of their own heads for a little while…I think that’s beautiful.”

“Brilliant and insanely caring,” he said, standing up from the table. “Now, I know you, and your first reaction is going to be to cram for the test. Don’t. Do. It. Go to sleep at a reasonable hour. Did you know that the performance gap caused by an hour’s difference in sleep is bigger than the gap between a normal 4th grader and a normal 6th grader? Which is basically just another way of saying that a slightly sleepy 6th grader will perform at the level of a 4th grader. Losing one hour of sleep is equivalent to losing two years of cognitive maturation and development.”

“So, go to sleep or I’ll lose two years of intelligence when I go to take my test tomorrow?” you said. It made sense, but it would be difficult. It was your nature to cram.

“Yes,” he replied, giving you a kiss on the forehead before picking up his bag. “Now I have to get to my advanced trig class, but let me know how the test goes when you get out.”

“Thanks again, Spence,” you replied. “I will.”


After the test the next day, you texted Spencer. You actually felt like the test went fairly well. You weren’t the first one to finish, but you weren’t the last to finish either, so you took that as a good sign. A week later, you got the test back and ran to Spencer’s dorm, knocking incessantly until he opened the door.

“What do you want from my life?” he laughed. “Can’t you call like a normal person?”

“I’m not normal. That’s why you love me,” you laughed, walking into the dorm and handing him your test.

He looked at it and smiled. “You got a 91! You don’t suck anymore!”

“Ow!” he laughed, as you hit him. “What? You said you sucked and now you don’t suck anymore! I’m a miracle worker.”

Till The End

Hi, are you still doing requests? Can you please do a scenario with Christian where he asked you to marry him, please

Originally posted by cliffe-1996

Christian Yu x Reader - F

Five years together, five astounding years with the love of your life. Every relationship had its ups and downs, but you both always got through it. You smiled to yourself as you got ready for your date to celebrate your fifth anniversary. Wearing a classic black dress, that hit all the right curves, you posed in front of your mirror satisfied with the outcome along with your hair and makeup. You clutched your purse and slipped on your shoes, excited to see your boyfriend. 

The restaurant was pretty fancy and empty? You peeped around worried that you had arrived at the wrong place. Promptly, a young waitress approached you “Y/n?” You gently nodded your head, the waitress smiled at you and pointed towards a door “Right this way, please” You hesitantly followed the girl through the door, with a loud gasp you covered your mouth in wonder taken aback with what was before you.

There were fairy lights all around the room, rose petals scattered on the floor among rose scented candles to light the room along with the minute lights and a personal table in the centre of the room. You sensed your eyes water at the idea of how much consideration your boyfriend had put into this.

You glanced around looking for him so you could run into his arms and tell him those three simple words you both left for special moments like this, however, he was nowhere to be seen. The young waitress from earlier handed you a tissue with a friendly smile and escorted you to your table, you quietly thanked her and sat down. A gentle melody was heard from behind you, you turned your head and saw a young man playing the piano, he smiled at you furthermore you politely returned the smile and sighed in content. A figure approached you with a smile and sat in front of you, startling you as you hadn’t heard them come in.

“Hey, beautiful” A blush spread over your face at words that never faltered to make your heart flutter “Christian” You beamed “I can’t believe you did all this” Gesturing at the surprise event in awe, with a loving smile he held your hand from across the table “Anything for the best” He replied with a greasy wink which made you roll your eyes but smile, nonetheless. “How do I top this Christian Yu?” He chuckled in amusement, knowing very well that you would, in fact, find a way to surprise him except he had something else in mind “It’s simple, all you need to do is say yes” You stared at him in confusion, following his movements as he stood up and advanced to stand in front of you. 

“Y/n, I came to realise that I can’t do anything without” You chuckled at his statement however it slowly faded as he steadily went down on one knee, you gasped covering your mouth with your hands “Y/n, will you marry me?” Tears trickled down your cheeks, you had to hastily nod your head as you couldn't form any words or say a mere yes. He held your hand and stood you up with him, with your hand still in his he slipped the ring on the finger that would now confirm that you belonged to him till the end. 

“Its beautiful” Christian stared at the ring satisfied with himself, however, you were staring at him when you had said those words, with a smile he raised his head to look at you. Realising you weren’t talking about the ring a blush rushed to his face making you chuckle “I love you Christian” He cupped your face and left a loving, passionate kiss on your lips.

“I love you more”

a/n thank you for reading <3

A thief’s heart- Jeffmads- Chapter one

//This was lowkey inspired by six of crows (y’all should read that book)

Thomas Jefferson was a monster and he was damn proud of it. He ran the most dangerous gang in this wretched town after all. He built the town up from the ground and made it something worthwhile. He was just missing a spider. Someone who could move without making a sound, someone who could slit throats before the victim even got the chance to scream. An assassin. Now when he heard the infamous Raven was murdered, he thought there was no chance of finding an assassin that talented. Until he remembered she had a son. A son of her and a merchant king who dealt with bombs on the black market, well could you ask for a more dangerous mix?  He smirked, staring at the hotel. Cheap. A good way to hide.

“Kid’s smart.”
“Kid’s dangerous and is probably expecting us.” Alex added and Thomas shrugged.
“Let’s hope we live up to our expectations.”
“What if he outsmarts us?” Eliza asked softly, everyone knowing what she meant. ‘What if he outsmarts Thomas?’ Thomas shook his head.

“Trust me, songbird, we’ll get our spider.” He promised, walking up the stairs then hesitating as they reached the door.

Keep reading

Good Vibrations - Pietro Maximoff x (f)Reader

Words: 1564
Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x (f)Reader
Featuring: Tony, Steve, Clint, Nick Fury, Wanda
Warnings: swearing i think, FLUFF
Requested by anon
Hey I just found this blog and I really like it so I was wondering if you could write a Pietro Maximoff one shot that’s super fluffy. I don’t care what its about I just love anything fluffy. If you can’t then it all cool and I still love your blog! ❤
Authors Note: So originally the whole imagine was going to be based off of this post by @just-some-marvel-imagines16 but then I had a lot of fun with it and there is a really long backstory and basically the end of the imagine is based off of that post, so, yeah. This was so much fun thought vbsalbvduoqre


“Have I got something for you,” Nick Fury walked into the Avengers base.

“How the hell did you even get in here?” Tony pointed to the man wearing the eye patch, “FRIDAY-”

“Calm down,” Fury stopped him, catching the attention of who was in the common room, Tony, Steve, and Clint. “I have some intel you probably really want to hear.”

“Then talk, Fury,” Steve nodded, still not sure how he felt about this guy.

Nick Fury walked over to the computer that projected over the kitchen island. He pulled up a video from his personal file to show the Avengers. The video was cut short, and it rarely showed a girl throwing someone across a park at night, making them float. “Have fun with that problem,” She murmured and raised her hands up, a ball of fire forming, “Watch out.”

Police sirens started to blare, and they were getting louder, meaning the police was getting closer. The girl in the video looked around quickly, fear on her face, and put her hand down- the fire leaving. The man she threw up in the air fell after she shot her arms back down, and she disappeared.

“Where did she go?” Clint gaped at the screen, quickly understanding why there is a problem.

Keep reading

sagechan  asked:

I ACCEPT YOUR CHALLENGE THEN do kagehina #38 from that list of prompts I AWAIT WITH THRILLING ANTICIPATION <3333

Ok so I didn’t reblog the list but I’m pretty sure it was “things you said while holding my hand” or something close. So *clears throat* RETURN FIRE (also plz work read more don’t fuk me)




“I think we should break up.”

Tobio stares down at the table, at how Hinata has both of his tiny hands wrapped around his larger one. They squeeze three times in quick succession, something Hinata does when he’s nervous and seeking comfort. Tobio, working on autopilot, squeezes back, his other hand sitting limply on the table.


He can’t wrap his mind around the words. They’re slippery like soap, and the harder he grips the more they shoot away, skidding across slick tiles, collecting dust and dirt. Hinata doesn’t look at him, doesn’t talk, and the silence makes Tobio feel trapped.

They’ve been dating for two years now, since a random Wednesday afternoon in June of their second year. A bowl of grapes rested between them as they watched the highlights of a volleyball game that they had absolutely watched before. Tobio had studied the pale, strong legs of his teammate, Hinata’s arms in his t-shirt, his new haircut, the way he smiled with his whole face. When he was caught ogling, because really what else could it be called, he blurted out the first words that came to mind.

“I want to kiss you.”

As was expected, Hinata convulsed and knocked the bowl off the couch and even threw a pillow at his face. Tobio had stayed silent, listening to Hinata’s rant about timing and moods and “Stupid Kageyama you can’t just say stuff like that!” He had stayed silent when Hinata crawled over to him. He didn’t utter a word when warm, trembling lips clumsily pressed against his. Then neither of them were talking, and Tobio left the house on the hill with red lips and the biggest smile he could ever remember making.

And now..

“You and me. I think we should break up.”

Warm hands squeeze his again, and Tobio brings his other one over to close the circuit. He seeks out brown eyes, the best color brown, the ones that hide golden honey swirls in the sunlight. Hinata casts his gaze to the coaster under his drink. Strawberry lemonade with a sprinkling of sugar on the top. The glass is still full.

“Why? Did I…did I do something that hurt you?”


Ice shoots through his veins. Ever since he realized he had feelings for his spiker, he had made a conscious effort to think before he acted. He didn’t go easy on Hinata, still reacted on reflex when he wasn’t focusing or tried an advanced move without talking about it first. But once he cooled down, he would take Hinata aside and explain why the whatever went wrong or why doing who knows what was freakin dangerous. And to everyone’s surprise, Hinata listened. Once they learned how to communicate with words as well as actions, they truly were invincible. So hearing that he had done something to hurt his boyfriend—possibly ex-boyfriend now—made him feel sick.

“W-well tell me what I did wrong, dumbass! Don’t just break up with me without giving me a reason.” He presses his thumb into the small bruise on the back of Hinata’s wrist. A remnant from their failed attempt at making hot chocolate the night before.

Maybe that’s why he feels so blindsided by this confrontation. Last night they had celebrated his birthday a week early, as has been their tradition ever since Hinata mixed the dates up in first year. What started as a joke transformed into something uniquely their own, as most things between them did. Last night was so perfect it didn’t feel real, and they had fallen asleep wrapped up in each other’s arms. What the hell had he fucked up in such a short time?

“Last night, after we…you know. When you went downstairs to get cereal..”

Tobio nods, shoulders hunched in on himself.

“I saw It.”

He waits for further context, but Hinata doesn’t give him anything besides a quick glance. There’s pizza in front of them now, hot and steaming. Hinata finally takes his hands away to pull off a pineapple chunk and pop it into his mouth. Tobio grows impatient at his silence.

“What was /It/?! Be specific dammit!”

“I saw you pour the milk before the cereal!”

The pizzeria is filled with rowdy students on this cold, December afternoon. Sound begins to filter back into Kageyama’s mind, the clattering of dishes and the clinking of glasses and the jingling of bells whenever the door opens.

“That’s it?” Kageyama can barely remember eating the cereal, let alone in what order he prepared it. He rolls his eyes, the dread leaving his system, and bites into his own meat lovers slice. He has a feeling he’ll need strength for the rest of this conversation.

“What do you mean that’s it? No sane person pours the milk before the cereal. You know who does that? Criminals, demons, and those people at supermarkets who leave frozen food by the baked goods.” Hinata jabs his straw in Kageyama’s direction, his cute lips set in a cute pout.

“Yeah? Well, you put sprinkles on your ice cream before the whipped cream or caramel sauce.”

Hinata scoffs with his mouth full, sounding congested. “So what?”

“So the sprinkles just fall to the side! The caramel and whipped cream act as a glue. How can you expect a spoonful of ice cream, sprinkles and toppings if you don’t utilize the toppings?!”

Kageyama bites into the cheese filled crust of his pizza and closes his eyes. He forgets for a few moments about the outside world and focuses only on the taste explosion happening in his mouth. Whoever invented cheese filled crust was going to be his next partner if this thing with Hinata didn’t work out.

“And I add the milk first because, unlike some people, I don’t enjoy soggy cereal.”

“You wash your chest before your shoulders when you shower.” Hinata looks close to crawling across the table and violently shaking him, so Kageyama grabs his hand and laces their fingers together. He squeezed, gets a squeeze back. “Your nasty shoulder suds get on your supposedly clean chest. Who goes against gravity like that? Head, shoulders, knees and toes is a song for a reason!”

“You don’t change knives when you make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” Kageyama watches the red flush of Hinata’s cheeks grow darker, and bring his hand up to his lips. He kisses the back, right on the little purple bruise, and then lightly bites down on the knuckle of his middle finger.

“It saves time,” Hinata says faintly, a little out of focus as he watches Kageyama’s mouth touch his hand. “And you pee in the shower.”

This could go on for hours, days if they dug deep and pulled out every single receipt they had on each other. Kageyama doesn’t want to fight. He hasn’t for a very long time.

“Hey, Shouyou?” He kisses the inside of his wrist, rubbing the bones that allow his hand to send spike after spike to the other side of the net. These hands that cover Kageyama’s face when he’s cold or sad or scared. He loves these hands, so small, but fit so right in his own.

“Hmm?” Hinata sucks absently at his lemonade, no longer pouting or grumpy. He looks relaxed, a little floaty, like he sometimes gets when Kageyama touches him all soft like he’s a puppy or a kitten or an equally as adorable baby animal.

“Before we break up, there’s something I want to say.”

Hinata’s eyes get all round and big, like he’s forgotten he entered this whole argument with the intent to dump his best friend. He nods, puts on his best serious face as he waits. Kageyama squeezes his hand three times in quick succession, something he’s learned to do when asking for comfort. Hinata, drifting on autopilot, squeezes back.

“I love you.”

As is expected, Hinata makes a noise like a startled cat as he knocks his glass over, sending the rest of his drink spilling across the table.

Kageyama stays silent, amused, as Hinata rants about timing and moods and “Stupid Kageyama don’t be cute when we’re breaking up! He stays quiet as Hinata shuffles around the booth and presses his sweet lips to Kageyama’s smiling mouth.

Ten minutes and a huge tip later, Kageyama leaves the pizzeria with the second biggest smile he can remember making, his boyfriend’s hand held tightly in his own.

anonymous asked:

Presumably a country could put spells into the khert, but keep them secret so their own military can have an edge. But hackers/sounders could find these 'secret' spells. Can information in the khert be made harder to find? Could a country write spells into the khert with the rule of only teaching them to tacit-casters, so witnesses can't hear/learn the trigger phrases? Can pymarics store spells for the possessing wright to access (probably worn as gloves)?

Tacit casters are so vanishingly rare that it’s not practical but yes, a pymaric would work just as well, though it stands to be stolen by the enemy and reverse engineered. Of course that’s a risk with any manner of technology.

The really high level pymary, the stuff so “technologically advanced” that it looks like magic, is all prewritten spellery stored in pymarics or burnt into the khert. You could never rattle off all that spellwork in realtime. Even if you did, you’d be standing around ten minutes doing so and your opponent would just like, do an Indiana Jones on you.

Burnt into the khert or burnt into a pymaric, each has its ups and downs. If it’s burnt into the khert, anyone who knows the name and parameters of the spell can access it and use it, but they can’t get at the source code longform spellwork unless they access the khert via a country’s khert-hub. The khert also cannot summon up whatever Aspects this spell might need, if it has specific requirements. You cannot conjure up a bomb from the khert, only the recipe for a bomb.

If your fancy spell is burnt into a pymaric, the pymaric can be stolen, plugged into a burner, and the spellwork inside viewed - which is quite a security risk - but a pymaric can store any Aspects that the spell inside might need. However the pymaric may very well only have enough Aspects for a single execution of its spell, making it extremely powerful, but only giving you one shot.

Anyway, it’s a potentially complex topic but it’s interesting to ponder, mechanics-wise. In a game situation, it’s fun that both methods have their strengths and weaknesses, forcing a player to strategize. Do you level in order to have the Wisdom or INT to pull these powerful spells from the khert even though any given environment might not have the necessary Materials and Aspects to utilise them? Or do you farm for mad GP so you can buy a pymaric gravity bomb that would certainly get the job done but that would vanish upon usage?

Strats, strats. Duane would say crack open a book, you lazy son of a bitch, pymarics are for n00bs. Quigley would say ( ̄^ ̄)凸

New Year, New Surprises

Summary: You meet a charming stranger named Steve at a New Year’s party and try to make it until midnight.

Request: So, it’s not that I don’t love all the Christmas stuff going around, but are you planning on writing something New Years. Like two people get REALLY DRUNK and end up together then wake up the next morning like “um…. well… happy new years?”

Warnings: swearing, allusion to smut (no actual smut, just lots of sexual tension and kissing)

Word Count: 2696

Author’s Note: Ok! I wanted to mix it up so I made a Steve x reader story! Eeeeep! It’s my first one really, so feedback very much appreciated.

Originally posted by lookprettyliveclassyplaydirty

As far as you’re concerned this year can kiss your ass, personally, professionally, globally. Truly. Which is why you had RSVPed yes to this New Year’s party weeks ago fully intending to spend the last minutes of 2016 in complete and utter alcohol-induced oblivion.

You’re well on your way to executing that plan, lifting your third Manhattan to your lips and taking a careful sip. Leaning on your elbows on the bar, shoulders hunched, you’ve dryly dismissed every overly cheery advance, every ostentatious proposition and slick offer of another drink.

You’re quite pleasantly buzzed when you roll your head, attempting to iron out the stress that’s settled in your neck and shoulders. Your thoughts are interrupted by a clear, deep voice. “Wow. That ready for next year, huh?”

A bitter laugh ripples through your throat, “You have no idea.”

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My thoughts on “The Predator” Chapter 16

Okay so you might see this I’m tagging you now… @supersillyanddorky06

 Matty, matty, matty how do you do you do it! Each time I read one of your masterfully done chapters something inside of me simply sparks to life. I go from being surrounded by dangerous thunderheads to then being transported into a meadow of endless, divine light. It’s as if your words are able to bridge the gap between heaven and hell and, that my friend is a gift that we all hope and wish for. 

Anyways now that I’ve slightly embarrassed myself I’ll continue on to attempting a small conveyance of what this chapter made me see.  

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anonymous asked:

People that dont write don't always understand where a writer is coming from. A writer should be able to write whatever they want without being beat down and made to feel like crap. I've received negative comments before telling me how to write my stories or getting the "Let's just pretend you did that to advance the plot." If writers dont write for themselves as well as their fans, then why do they write at all? We must stay true to ourselves before we even think about others.

Yes exactly!!
100% my thoughts on the subject!

anonymous asked:

Its not a donation post but i made a post about how i need a place to stay for a little while and its a really scary emergency and was wondering if i gave you the link, if you would reblog it? I'm afraid it wont get much traction unless a more well known blog reblogs it. Thank you in advance.

Yes, please send us the link. 

Rejection [Roman Reigns]


Hi could you do a request where reader constantly flirts with Roman n pretends to hate it…until she stops flirting with him one day n he gets jealous seeing reader flirting with someone else?? They end up together please

Originally posted by vaniwin


also this is kinda long?? i was gonna split it up into two parts but I ended it kinda short sO IF YOU WANT PART TWO PLEASE SHOOT ME AN ASK

“Hey, big guy,” you grinned, biting down on your bottom lip as you leaned against the locker room wall, watching Roman lace his boots. He shot a look at you, smiling somewhat.

“Uh, hi,” he responded, eyes flickering away from yours to disrupt the brief eye contact. He swallowed, showing clear discomfort. You sighed, feeling your wistful feelings flutter away, but you persisted. 

“Watcha doin’?” You questioned, smiling at him sweetly.

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Too Good (part 1)

Harry is convinced that Y/N is perfectly perfect– an angel. He also believes that he is quite the opposite, and that this is a complete disaster waiting to happen. 

This was inspired by Troye Sivan’s “TOO GOOD”. It’s a jam if you all wanna check it out :) 



ONE MORE THING: This is a different side of H that I’ve written here. I’m not trying to make him out to be something he isn’t– I’m playing with a different angle. I hope you all understand what I’m getting at!

    Maybe it was the drinks. Maybe it was the smoke from whatever was being passed around the place. No matter what it was, it made Harry blink hard a few times. When he focused his vision again, he was stumped. There was an angel in front of him. She almost glowed as she conversed with the other girl in front of her. In this secular setting she was terribly out of place. Harry noticed the water bottle in her hand, the way she was almost fidgety. The music booming made her jump every now and then. He had been watching long enough that he saw her deny the marijuana that was being offered to everyone. 

    Harry wanted to go over and talk to her, more than he had ever wanted to speak to anyone before. A part of him resisted though. Someone like her wouldn’t want anything to do with Harry. He was too– rough. There was entirely too much he had seen, too much he had done. Even just visually she was pure and Harry wouldn’t be responsible for tainting that. 

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Two Sides, Same Coin: Chapter One

Fic Request: Stydia smut, preferably where Lydia is a nerd and Stiles is a popular jock, anyway Lydia meets Allison and gets dragged along to a party at Stiles’ house and ends up losing her virginity to him and (unknown to her) his to her. They at first try to deny their feelings but end up confessing to each other after having sex yet again. They end up keeping their relationship a secret from everyone including their best friends as they are afraid and don’t want to be judged.

Rating: MA

Genre: Romance, Nerd!Lydia, Jock!Stiles

Author: hellabootyrps

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