ball retriever

TMNT Season 1: Michelangelo saves his brothers from being eaten alive by giant mutant wasps. Nobody says thank you.

TMNT Season 5: Michelangelo leaps over perilous cliffs and dodges fire balls in order to retrieve, repair, and wield an ancient esoteric seal that controls the powers of an invulnerable hell demon. Despite the seal being allegedly impossible to fix and requiring vast knowledge to wield Michelangelo succeeds in his mission, banishing a god-tier demodragon back to the underworld and putting an end to Hell’s invasion of New York City. Nobody says thank you.

Basketball Challenge

Summary: Zach Dempsey challenges you to a one-on-one basketball game

Pairing: Zach Dempsey x Reader

Warning: Fluff

A/N: This is my first imagine for 13 Reasons Why, also I haven’t written anything in a while so why not start fresh with some new inspiration.

Originally posted by knightlley


It was another one of yours and Zach Dempsey’s stupid little bets. You started out just shooting around in the school’s gymnasium before basketball practice when he walked in. Your once three point shooting streak had come to a complete stop when you saw the tall, handsome basketball star as you missed the basketball goal completely and caused the ball to land right into his hands.

You hustled over to him to retrieve your ball. As you walked away to go back to your previous spot, Zach called for you so he could give you a snide comment. “If it were me, Y/N, I wouldn’t have missed that shot,”

You slowly turned on your heels and eyebrows raised at the trash talk. “Excuse me?” you dared him to say it again.

“I’m just saying,” he continued to put up his arrogant front, “I wouldn’t have missed that shot in a game,”

You felt something burning in your stomach. You were just as good at basketball as he was, but because you were a girl you were inferior to him. He always gave you shit for it. Every time the two of you saw each other on the basketball court he celebrated himself like he was a god of basketball and that you could never touch. Well, today was the day that you wanted to settle the score. You wanted to prove to him that you were just as good as he was no matter the gender.

“You know what Dempsey let’s play it out,” you walked up to him with a purpose until you were chest to chest.

“Excuse me,” he snickered.

“You heard me,” you pressed your finger against his chest, “Me and you, one-on-one, after practice. Or are you too chicken to get beat by a girl,”

There was a shift in atmosphere and you could feel it. Zach’s eyes narrowed and his smile turned into a hard line. “You’re on!” he said before he stormed off to the locker room.

Now, the two of you were sweaty and out of breath both from practice and from your game. It was close and intense. All you needed was a point and you would have one the game. You had the ball at the top of the key. Zach was staring into your eyes, waiting on your next move. You dribbled the ball to the corner of the court with Zach slowly following behind. Before he could plant himself, you changed directions to where you came and forward, passing Zach in the process. With Zach in the dust, you took the shot.

It was the perfect shot, you could feel it as the ball left your hand. It felt like everything was moving in slow motion as the ball connected with the goal and made the beautiful swishing sound that you cherished. You couldn’t help but celebrate, pumping your fist in the air at your victory. You turned to Zach, as he had a smirk plastered on his face.

“What are you so smug for?” you raised an eyebrow.

“I let you win,” he chuckled as he walked up to you

You crossed your arms over your chest. “No, you didn’t,” you scoffed.

“Yeah, I did,” he placed his hands on your shoulders before gently sliding them down to uncross your arms. “I let you win, so I could lose and take you out to Monet’s for a date,”

Yet another sweet gesture from the sweet Zach Dempsey. He always knew how to fire you up and to cool you down. It was the best part about your relationship together. Every muscle in your body softened when you saw his sheepish smile. It was that smile that you fell for every time.

“Fine,” you groaned, “We’ll go to Monet’s, but if you do that again I’m kicking your ass, Dempsey,”

Zach couldn’t help but laugh at your slight frustration. He leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead. “You got it babe,” he smiled.  

The Best of Times, The Worst of Times (Tommy Shelby x OC)

Hello everyone! Here is a way too long Tommy Shelby x OC one-shot. I’m planning a multi-chapter fic and wanted to experiment with some ideas - so feedback on this would be much appreciated!


“What’s that?” 14 year-old Thomas Shelby asked as he approached her. The boy had been playing a match of football with his brothers and a few friends when he noticed her sat beneath a tree. He recognised her as the sister of his friend and current team-mate, Charles Anderson.

The girl raised her head to look at him. She seemed startled by his arrival, almost dropping the object in her hands, but quickly covered her surprise by lifting it toward him, “It’s called a book.”

Tommy was taken aback by her patronising tone. Did she really think he didn’t know what a book was? He was on the verge of confronting her about it when he caught on to the playful glint in her eye. She was teasing him.

He held back a grin as he rolled his eyes, “I know it’s a book. I meant, what are you reading?”

She smiled up at him and turned the cover to face the boy, “’A Tale of Two Cities’.”

“Charlotte Brontë, right?” he prompted, trying to impress.

The girl giggled at his undoubting and somewhat cocky expression. She shook her head, “Dickens.”

“Oh,” the boy’s face fell in defeat, causing her sniggering to escalate. He moved to sit beside her and attempted to change the subject, “What’s your name?”

“Maggie. Or Margaret if you want to get cut,” he raised a brow at her bluntness, though he could tell she was still just taunting, “Yours?”

“Tommy. Or Thomas if you want to get cut.”

The pair exchanged an approving smile as she extended her hand, “Nice to meet you, Thomas.”

“And you, Margaret,” he replied as they briefly shook hands.

“You’re a friend of Charles?” Maggie asked the boy beside her.

“Yeah, he’s your brother, right?”

She nodded, “And you’re a Shelby?”

“I am. How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” she shrugged, “You have that way about you.”

“What ‘way’?”

“A pompous walk. Your brothers have it too.”

Tommy’s brow creased in confusion, “What the bloody hell does ‘pompous’ mean?”

“Arrogant, egotistic, boastful-“

“Excuse me?” Tommy shot her an incredulous look.

She continued, “Conceited, flaunting, pretentious-“

“Alright, I get it.”

She ignored him, “Flatulent, selfish, ostentatious-“

“That’s starting to get annoying.”

“Imperious, overbearing, supercilious-“

“-Ok you made that one up. That’s not a word.”

She then began to giggle again, laughing at the astounded expression on the boy’s face. Tommy guffawed at her nerve. Even at 14, he wasn’t used to people being so direct with him –especially a girl. He just stared at her, watching her laugh. Her cheeks had reddened and her eyes were creased shut. She had placed a hand over her stomach as she bent forward, her curls falling into her face. Eventually, despite his attempts to resist, Tommy found himself laughing too. The way her eyes glistened as they reopened ignited something within him. Pure joy seemed to invade his senses, making him forget, even just for a brief moment, all the misfortune his father was causing with his reckless antics. It had been a while since he had laughed like this.

Through his blurry eyes, Tommy noticed the book had fallen from her lap. He picked it up and studied it. Noticing his movements, Maggie turned to face the boy, still beaming. Her breath caught slightly as his eyes lifted from the book to reach her own. Just as her books would describe, they were a cloudless blue. Or perhaps they were azure whirlpools that she wished to dive into and drown in - she was certainly experiencing a similar spinning motion as he gazed at her. It was as if all the novels she had read were manifesting into reality and creating her own romantic hero.

“Read to me.”

His voice broke through her reverie. She blinked as she noted his arm outstretched, motioning for her to take the book back.

She felt the blood rush to her cheeks as she looked at him, perplexed, “What?”

“Read to me,” he replied. Tommy nudged her upper arm with the corner of the book.

She let out a short chuckle and hesitantly took the novel from him. As they passed it, their fingers barely brushed– but they certainly felt it. Their eyes snapped to lock onto each other’s. Tommy’s heart clenched. Maggie’s skipped several beats. Both unknowingly held their breath. This was definitely something she had read in a novel. Frozen, the book remained held between their two bodies-

THUMP!!

A football flew toward them at a powerful force and hit the tree above them, instantly destroying the moment. Their gazes broke to watch as the eldest Shelby brother ran toward them.

“Sorry, Tommy!” Arthur yelled as he retrieved the ball. He turned to throw Maggie a quick, apologetic smile before turning around and resuming the match.

Maggie released a long breath, almost grateful to have been distracted. The boy beside her cleared his throat and looked back to her, “So…read to me?”

She dropped her gaze to the book before offering him a soft smile, “Sure.”

Tommy struggled to keep himself from grinning at his victory. He shuffled slightly to lie back in a more comfortable position on the grass.

“Just don’t think I’m going to re-read the first 67 pages just so you can follow what’s going on,” she sneered, cheekily, “If you get confused, read it yourself.”

“Maybe I will,” he found himself smiling at her, “It’s no problem. Just pick up from where you left off.”

He watched eagerly as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and opened the book to the correct page. Quietly clearing her throat, she began, “’For you, and for any dear to you, I would do anything. I would embrace any sacrifice for you and for those dear to you. And when you see your own bright beauty springing up anew at your feet, think now and then that there is a man who would give his life, to keep a life you love beside you…’”

 

The years progressed and the pair grew closer.

After the war, Tommy was not the same. No one was. He became riddled with nightmares. Blood, wires, mud, the damn shovelling. He hardly slept. The increasingly dark shade beneath his eyes was a clear indicator of that. The headaches too. He would not reveal any of this to the others, of course. No matter how much he craved comfort, he could not ruin his image. And so, he kept his torment to himself.

But Maggie knew. She worked it out for herself. He allowed her to. Maggie volunteered as a nurse. She was in France. She saw the horrors too.

Often she would stay late to clear up the betting shop for the boys. She would hear the whimpers and muffled yells coming from his room. Knocking gently and waiting for his approval, she would unobtrusively close the door behind her and sit beside him on the bed. After handing him a glass of water and placing a cool, wet towel on his head, she would reach over to his small bookshelf. After choosing a book, she would open it and begin to read. No other words would be spoken before or after. All he needed was reassurance that he was safe and not alone. He didn’t need to explain himself. She understood. She was there for him.

In a complete contrast to his hot, heavy illusions, her serene tone created a calm, content atmosphere. The words would drip from her tongue into his hear and instantly numb his senses. Eventually, this ease would allow him to drift into unconsciousness.

He would wake to find her gone. However, the book would always be placed on the table beside him as a reminder of her visit, like a notification that she was genuinely present. It would become a regular occurrence. They had silently agreed to never discuss what happened the next day. It was their private, almost nightly ritual. They wanted to separate the War from their civilian lives. There was no need for it to distract them from their day-to-day lives.

On this particular day, Tommy knocked on her apartment door. She opened it with a warm smile, “Tommy! What can I do for you?”

“There is a family counsel at 6 this evening. Be there,” and with that, he began to walk away.

She called out, “But, I’m not family. What’s going on?”

He stopped on the street and turned back to her. There was a hint of playfulness in his eye as he spoke, “’Family not only needs to consist of those whom we share blood, but also for those whom we would give blood.’”

Maggie stood bewildered in her doorway before a grin brightened her features. He had to suppress his own smirk.

“Thomas Michael Shelby,” she drawled in astonishment, “Did you just quote Dickens to me?”

Tommy turned from her confounded expression and sauntered down the street without a word.

Maggie let out a short laugh as she watched his retreating form. Once he had turned the corner, she closed her door and reflected on what he had said. Their relationship had now gone beyond acquaintances. Beyond friendship, in fact. He considered her family.

That night, Tommy stopped by Maggie’s apartment. She had not been present at the family meeting and he came to find out why. Knocking on her door, he called out for her. No response.

He knocked again. No response…except for the small sound of female weeping.

His heart began to beat wildly. His mind became frenzied and swam with endless disastrous scenarios. Before he could consider any other action, he ran to her back door she always forgot to lock and barrelled into her front room. His heart shattered at what he saw.

As a victim himself, he recognised the symptoms almost immediately. Maggie was sat in the corner of the room. Her knees huddled to her chest. Her arms gripped onto them so fiercely that the nails seemed to be breaking skin. Pale tear marks streaked her dark red cheeks.Her eyes were sore, wide and staring straight at him. Her cries had quietened.

As if realising he had caught her, she suddenly struggled to her feet and wiped at her wet cheeks. She looked guilty. Her eyes remained glazed as she tried to avoid his.

“T-Tommy?” she spoke, her voice timid and almost inaudible. It was not the smooth and confident voice that read to him every night. That’s when he realised; she was broken. Like him, the War had ruined her.

“Maggie,” he greeted, attempting to keep his voice strong and assuring.

“Wh-What are you doing here?” she sniffed.

“You weren’t at the meeting. I came to see if you were alright.”

“Oh,” she wiped at her eyes with her sleeve again and attempted to smile at him. She failed.

“Maggie?” he called to her, gently.

“I’m sorry about the meeting, I completely forgot,” she quickly replied, as if trying to avoid the question he would no doubt ask.

“Maggie.”

“I was just…cleaning the apartment,”  she avoided his gaze and looked behind him, “Did you break my door?”

“Maggie.”

She made to move to the door, “Because if you did, you know you’re paying for a new one, right? Because I don’t have the mon-“

He reached out for her arm as she passed. The touch made her freeze and turn to him suddenly. Tommy almost flinched as her red-rimmed eyes locked onto his.

“Maggie.”

She knew what he was going to ask. She closed her eyes and took a breath.

“Are you alright?”

There it was.

“I’m fine,” she tried to say as convincingly as possible. It didn’t work.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Then stop looking,” she almost spat.

Tommy simply continued to looked at her, unconvinced by the bravado she tried to portray. His gaze seemed to snap something in her and she burst into tears again, shaking her head frantically.

Tommy reached out for her. She felt his cool palm press against her burning cheek. The other hand found its way to the back of her head and cradled it to his chest. Easing into his arms, Maggie allowed herself to sob. This was the first time she had cried in front of someone else since she was young. Even after the news of Charles’ death, she refused to let others see her this way. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe she was scared people would see it as a weakness. Being a nurse on the front line did not allow for tears. She had a job to do and she had to get it done. There was no time to grieve. But without the War, there was nothing to distract her from thinking of what she had witnessed.

Her hands gripped onto his upper arms, as if to stable herself.It was then that he noticed her legs were shaking uncontrollably. Tommy was worried she would fall. Removing his hands from her face, he reached down and picked her up behind the legs. Once she had wrapped her arms around his neck, he led her to the bed and lay her down. Once she had manoeuvred under the covers, he knelt beside the mattress.

Reaching out for her hand, he looked at her sincerely, “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s alright. I understand. Just don’t lie to me and tell me you’re ‘fine’.”

She just looked back at him for a moment with those red eyes before slightly nodding her head. Tommy nodded too and made to move away, but she tightened her grip on his hand.

“Stay,” she whispered.

Maggie watched as Tommy looked down at her before gently removing his palm from her hold. He began to walk away. He was going to leave her in this state. Maggie wasn’t angry with him for that decision. He was a busy man with things to do. Also, seeing her in this state may awaken his own trauma. That’s the last thing she wanted.

Closing her eyes, she saw the haunting images. Maggie allowed more silent tears to leak from beneath her eyelids. They only re-opened when she felt a pressure on the mattress beside her. Fluttering her eyes open, she saw Tommy had returned…with a book.

He had gone to the shelf in the next room and picked up ‘Great Expectations’. How could he leave her in this state? Especially after all she had done for him. He wasn’t sure how to handle it. Tommy wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to dealing with emotions. So, he decided to start by trying out her technique. Besides, it worked for him, didn’t it?

He climbed onto the bed and sat beside where she lay. He crossed his legs, opened the page she had marked as her current place and cleared his throat.

Tommy began to read, “’love her, love her, love her. If she follows you, love her. If she wounds you, love her. If she tears your heart to pieces – and as it gets older and stronger, it will tear deeper – love her, love her, love her.’”

He paused when he heard her sniffs cease and breaths even out. Looking down beside him, Tommy saw that Maggie was asleep. Her face, although still blotchy, was showing signs of returning to its regular pallor.She looked at peace.

Gently sliding from the mattress, he placed the book on her bedside table, as she always did for him. Looking back to her, he could not resist reaching out to brush the hair from her forehead. He found his fingers tenderly caressing her cheek for another minute, before he leaned over and placed his lips delicately to the side of her mouth. Without a word and cautiously avoiding making any sound, he picked up his cap, angled it on his head and left the apartment.

The words he had read resonated as he made his way home: love her, love her, love her.

aporeticelenchus  asked:

Alternately, headcanon about Cosette in the convent?

I come here, a week later, looking at the work I have to do and… not doing it. 

  • Cosette, I think, is a bit frightened at first by all the girls in the convent. Not that any of them are particularly mean, or anything, but they’re good and cheerful and well-dressed, and Cosette is a bit too shy, or a bit too wild, perhaps, to go play with them - waiting for a trick, or a mocking laugh, or someone to tell her she doesn’t get to play with other well-dressed little girls. After all, eight year old Cosette would still remember Éponine and Azelma, and everybody judging her (or downright beating her) for trying to play like them. She does get comfortable, eventually! And faster than expected. But I still think she ends up feeling more comfortable with younger girls than her. 
  • As it is, Cosette IS the wild girl of the convent; she has a reputation. For starters, she spends most of her free time with the two old gardeners. Like, sure, she says they’re her family, but still! She’s the one who runs towards the sound of the bell instead of away from it when it can be heard! Also, once, there was a snake, and rumors says Miss Cosette Fauchevelent stayed and played with the snake. Another time, several pupils affirm she climbed in a tree to retrieve the ball younger girls were playing with. She’s also oddly strong; she can carry very heavy weight and help the sisters with the food that comes outside of the convent. 
  • Once, a girl decided she did not like Cosette; but when she tried to provoke her, Cosette visibly shrink, and paled, and went all quiet. Other girls from her dormitory, who sometimes woke during the night and heard Cosette having nightmares, all band together to defend Cosette. Cosette cries a little and thank all of them - she doesn’t know why she was so scared, she’ll say later, but she feels so happy she had friends to help. Later on, she sees the girl who provoked her, all alone because the other girls shut her down; she takes a deep breath, and then she goes to sit with her, and offer her an apple. They never become friends, but they do get along okay after that. 
  • Fauchelvent and her had a real uncle/niece relationship that develops over the course of the years. While Valjean is a very strong moral parent, that tries to teach her to be as good as possible (which, coincidentally, goes extremely well with the sisters’s education), Fauchelevent is the one who gently reprimands her when he finds her with the snake and then help her ‘finding it a good home we won’t tell your father will we now’, or winks at her and gives her a candy from times to times, etc. Cosette cries a lot when he dies. 
  • I think Cosette never think of becoming a nun. She might think she’ll stay in the convent for all her life - but not in a ‘i’ll be a nun’ way, more like ‘i’ll be with my dad and my uncle and my friends forever and ever here’. However, after Fauchelevent’s death, she is sort of glad, and maybe a bit excited, at the idea of going outside again, discovering the world. 
  • She still exchanges letter with the girls from the convent. AT LEAST some of them. They’re here for her wedding, as a surprise from her dad. They’re all charmed by Marius, who blushes a lot and smiles awkwardly and holds Cosette very close to him the whole time. 
Hello, Stranger - Part One

Lin x Reader

Word Count- 3,075

Warnings- I think there’s one swear word in here. Mild angst I guess too?

A/N- I’ve been writing this for a while now, and I’ve kept coming back to it because I love the concept. Inspired by my walks with my own dog, plus Lin and Tobi give me life.
This was difficult though, which is why it’s taken so long for me to post it. If it wasn’t for @plamspringsdancingontables I don’t know what would’ve happened to this! You’re my hero!

The line breaks signify a break in time and I will be working on another part to this, along with the second part of There Will Be History, so keep your eyes peeled! If you would like to be tagged in anything that’s coming up, feel free to message me! Hope you enjoy!

Part One/Part Two

Keep reading

"Oh, Shit." (Paul Lahote)

I was sitting on a water beat log at First Beach, trying to force myself to the homework I had put off to the last minute… again.

There were a group of people having what seemed to be a get together of some sorts. They had food, a few of them were throwing a football around, another was running after a little girl who insisted that the ocean was just a ‘big swimming pool’.

It was cute and the whole scene was heart warming, don’t get me wrong… but they were loud as hell.

How was I supposed to procrastinate with all this noise?

I spent the next few minutes trying to convince myself that the trigonometry in front of me wasn’t even that hard but I kept get interrupted by the football that kept landing only feet away from me.

There was a youngish looking boy who always retrieved the ball and would apologize.

“My friend over there just has a really strong arm. It won’t happen again. Sorry!” he said, the first time.

But it happened again.

And again.

And again.

Each time the youngish boy, Seth I learned, would apologize.

I didn’t want to get in the way of anyone’s fun, so I decided to leave. Hell, I wasn’t getting anything done anyways.

I got up from the log, put on my jacket and was picking up my Trig book/book from hell. I was just turning around when I a big ass, hard ass, brown thing hit me straight in the forehead.

“Oh shit.” I heard someone say as my ass hit the ground.

A few seconds later the two guys that were throwing the ball, were towering over me.

“Shit, I’m so sorry! I swear I didn’t mean to. Seth was supposed to catch it!” the older one said, smacking Seth in the shoulder.

“Don’t you think we should be making sure you didn’t give the poor girl a concussion?!” Seth asked.

“Can you stand?” the older one asked.

“Yeah, sure.” I said, using the extended hands to help me.

I opened my eyes a little bit wider and the whole Beach was spinning.

“How many fingers am I holding up?What’s your name?” Seth asked.

“Really, Seth?” the older one asked

“What!? I saw it in a movie!” Seth countered.

“Two and Y/N Seth and I’m fine you guys. I might have a big ass bruise on my head but I’m fine.” I said, looking at Seth and then to the other one.

The way that this guy looked at me, I knew that the bruise was already forming. He wouldn’t take his eyes of me.

“Shit, is it that bad?” I laughed nervously.

“No! No!” the boy soon recovered, “I was just, uhhhhh-, ummm-,” the boy stuttered.

Damn, I must look worse than I thought, the boy can’t even form words.

“Paul here was just making sure you were really alright. Isn’t that right, Paul?” asked Seth.

Paul quickly recovered and nodded his head in agreement.

“Maybe you should stay here a little bit longer? I just wouldn’t want you to get out on the road and get hurt, you know?” Paul offered.

“You could come sit with the rest of us.” he said, after seeing my hesitation.

I nodded my head and let them lead me toward the group.

“I’m glad you’re staying. You’ll be glad you did.” Paul said, giving me a smile.

For some reason, I didn’t think our first encounter was going to be our last. I was going to be seeing a lot more of Paul and boy was I ready.

Chewing gum (Park Jimin X reader)

Originally posted by myloveseokjin

Warning: cursing, sexual themes, smut I guess, raunchy language, mentions of alcohol, slight mention of drugs but not really, fluffy fluff

Summary: y/n has enough piled on her plate being a full time college student and began a virgin is added to the list. In seek to ridden her purity  she attempts to find the right guy. Little does she know that the right guy is more interested in something else rather than her purity.


college is a stressful time for any young adult struggling with their inner bullshit. Each day you are faced with a new face on campus. A new story. Friendships bond over simple conversations that start from  inconsequential talk to a mind bending relationship. Just the simple thought is to send anyone into over drive. The simple crave to have a relationship was enough to impassion or have great value to someone resulting in a great impact in there lives. enough to last a life time.

Out of all the faces in the crowd that including mine, I was the only sad bastard that desired this feeling while everyone else establish it without minding a blink. If only they knew how lucky they truly were to have a lucky someone. It doesn’t even have to be someone, anyone. Sometimes we just need anyone. It doesn’t matter who it is. Just anyone to remind us what’s it like to live in the moment, and feel something before its over completely.

Sure I did have that one person that attempted to pursue these unrealistic goals. His name was Jeon Jungkook , but he often went by the name of Jungcock. I remember that specific moment he tried to be that anyone, making me live in the moment but very poorly.

Keep reading

Good Cannibal, Sit

This is my late (sorry) entry to @hannibalcreative‘s #ReleaseTheCrackin! It’s also dedicated to the ever wonderful @evertonem, because I promised her dog-related crack in the hopes of bringing some cheer. I hope you enjoy!

         In retrospect, Hannibal could admit that giving Will psilocybin mushroom tea might have been a bit of an overreaction. Will had been unusually quiet for days, and Hannibal had let fear, of another cliff or another person, get the better of him. He’d tried speaking to Will, but was greeted with eyerolls and the invitation to “shut his big bazoo”.

         Still, perhaps it wasn’t wise to drug the one you love. Will certainly hadn’t reacted well to the stabbings, so he probably wouldn’t react well to surreptitious hallucinogens. Hannibal made the decision to bring out a tray of goodies and replace Will’s tea with a slightly less nefarious chai blend. If Will wanted to be moody, then Hannibal would just have to let him.

         “Will?” Hannibal walked along the flagstones toward the patio that overlooked the Loire Valley, a tray of fresh blackberry jam and brown sugar scones in one hand.

         “Hey! Put that down!”

         Hannibal turned to see Will stomping toward him, stern expression on his face. With a raised brow, Hannibal took a few steps and placed the tray on their wrought iron table. When he turned, Will flicked him on the nose.

         “Bad! No stealing food!” Will swatted Hannibal on the ass. Hannibal opened his mouth to respond, but closed it when noticed Will’s empty teacup by the tray of scones. A hallucination then, but of who?

         Will looked at Hannibal for a long moment, something soft creeping into his eyes. Hannibal cocked his head taking in the expression. Will yanked Hannibal to his chest, his hands sinking into the doctor’s hair and scratching roughly.

         “God, I’ve missed you,” Will whispered into Hannibal’s disheveled locks. “Who’s my good boy? You are, Winston. You are!”

         “Will…” Hannibal tried to disentangle from Will’s grip. Clearly, he’d overestimated Will’s tolerance for the mushrooms. He should probably have him lay down and hydrate before dinner.

Keep reading

Calum Hood:::Neighbor

Pairing: Calum and Y/N

Word Count: 6.5k+

Rating: Smut

Requested: Yas

Calum is a little cocky shit who plays girls, y/n’s brother warns her, but she wants him anyways

Keep reading

deliciouslinks  asked:

Hullo. I love your works they help cope with my urge to scream betty and jughead are meant to be. And i dont know if u are still taking requests but could write about the gang going out like bowling then archie "teaching" the girl how to properly bowl and smirking jughead for his moves and jugheads is like fuck that shit look at my girl wreck you all in bowling. And betty destroying everybody including jughead in bowling. Please kill me with fluff and flirting

Hi there! I really hope this is kind of what you wanted haha. I might have changed it a little, but I still hope you like it. Here you go!

“Sttttrrriiiikkkeee!” Veronica sprang from the plastic-covered bench excitedly, watching in awe as the ball Archie had just rolled directly down the center of the lane knocked down every last pin in one sweeping motion. “I believe that makes number three for team Varchie.”

“Is that what you’re calling yourselves now?” Betty asked, bending down to retie her shoelace as Veronica stood from the bench next to her and strode over to the ball return.

“For the sake of this bowling match?” Veronica bent down to retrieve her sparkly purple ball before turning on her heel to raise a playful eyebrow in Betty’s direction. “You bet your curly blonde ponytail I am.”

“Okay, V, you’re up,” Archie announced, gesturing for her to join him at the start of the lane. “Show em’ what you’re made of.”

“Watch and learn my little lambs,” Veronica fluttered her eyelashes at Jughead and Betty before prancing her way over to Archie. “Prepare to be dazzled.”

“Now Ronnie, remember to keep your elbow pulled back - yep, exactly like that. Perfect, now step forward - keep your hips centered,” Archie instructed, carefully placing both hands on either side of her waist and adjusting her body so that it was pointing towards the middle of the lane. “Great, now you’re ready to let go and-”

Before Archie could finish, Veronica stepped away from his grasp and launched the ball down the lane. The ball veered slightly to the right, but managed to avoid the gutter, knocking down six of the ten pins.

“Yes!” Veronica yelled, jumping up and down victoriously as she turned to her friends with a look of accomplishment. “That’s how it’s done! Kev, get over here - secret victory handshake!”

“V, you’re on an opposing team why would I-” Before he could finish his sentence, he saw Veronica wiggling her fingers at him expectantly and decided to give in. “Screw it, I can’t resist a secret handshake.”

“It’s gonna be hard to beat that, huh Jug?” Archie nudged Jughead in the arm playfully, winking at him slyly as he took a seat on the opposite side of him. “Alright, Betty, show us what you’ve got.”

Betty and Jughead both stood reluctantly as they took a few tentative steps forward to retrieve Betty’s ball.

“Juggie, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Betty whispered, glancing back at their friends before turning back to stare dauntingly down the lane in front of them. “Last time I went bowling I was about eight-years-old and there was this terrible incident where my fingers got stuck in the bowling ball holes and-”

“Shhh, Bets, it’s okay,” Jughead soothed, rubbing her shoulders up and down before reaching forward to grab a ball sitting on the rack. “Just breathe. Here, take the ball - it’s not going to get stuck I promise. Do you trust me?”

“You? Yes,” Betty answered, biting her bottom lip nervously as she gestured to the ball in question. “The bowling ball? Not so much.”

“Okay, just don’t think about it,” Jughead suggested. “Think about something else.”

“All I can think about right now is that stupid pink bowling ball eating my hand - like just completely chowing down like it’s a fancy roast dinner,” Betty panicked, pointing to the ball in Jughead’s hand and crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.  

“Remember when we were in your bedroom earlier?” Jughead offered bluntly, and Betty turned to raise a skeptical eyebrow at him.

“Juggie, where is this going?”

“Not where you think it is, pervert, get your mind out of the gutter,” Jughead teased, taking her by the shoulders and facing her towards the lane. “You were telling me about that day your parents took you and Polly to the park when you were kids - you fed the ducks, rode the merry-go-round, had a picnic by the water. You said that was the perfect day for you guys, so think about that. You’re not here, you’re there.”

Betty closed her eyes, envisioning the sparkling blue water of the pond, the lush evergreens surrounding her family as they sat on her great grandmother’s quilt eating her mother’s famous finger sandwiches. Suddenly, she was no longer in the dimly lit bowling alley, but instead transported back in time to her very favorite day.

“Okay, I think it’s working,” Betty announced, her eyes slowly opening as she concentrated on keeping her mind focused on the image of the pond.

“Alright, now line up the ball - great,” Jughead told her, taking a step backwards to give her the space she needed. “Now all you have to do is let go.”

“Think about the ducks, not your fingers getting stuck,” Betty recited this little chant over and over again until she gained the courage to roll the ball down the lane. “Here goes nothing.”

Betty let the ball fly down the center, never once veering off to the side as it hit the pins with a bang, causing them all to fall over with a satisfying clunk.

“Oh my god, I did it!” Betty exclaimed, turning to Jughead with shock written all over her face. “Juggie, did you see that?”

“Uh yeah, I saw it - you’re a regular Earl Anthony, Bets!” Jughead praised her, wrapping his arms around her waist and scooping her into a hug. “That’s my girl, come here!”

“Holy crap, B, did you join a secret bowling-for-troubled-youths league and not tell me?” Veronica waltzed over to the couple, looking more impressed than she had been in a long time.

“Juggie helped me through it,” Betty admitted, glancing up at Jughead with a gracious smile. “I couldn’t have done it without him.”

“Completely untrue,” Jughead disagreed. “But I do agree that you were amazing.”

“Jug, I think she’s even better than you,” Archie pointed out as he and Kevin made their way over to the rest of the group.

“Whoa, let’s not go that far,” Jughead protested. “I was the junior bowler champion of the entire Riverdale Bowling Club in the third grade - no one can even come close to getting on my level.”

“That’s not a thing,” Veronica muttered, shaking her head like this was the most ridiculous statement she had ever heard.  

“It’s a thing,” they all shot back in unison, glancing away in shame at their small town’s silly traditions.

“These are the moments that I truly miss New York City,” Veronica mumbled under her breath, stepping away from the group to slink back down onto a bench.

“Okay then, Mr. Junior Bowler Hotshot,” Betty crossed her arms over her chest, gesturing to the ball return and raising a challenging eyebrow at Jughead. “Show us how it’s done. Or are you too afraid you’ll tarnish your most impressive record?”

“Oh, I see how it is - you have one good run and you think you can throw down a little smack talk,” Jughead teased, his eyes dancing playfully as he watched her step out of the way to give him the floor. “Alright then. You asked for it.”

Jughead picked up his ball from the rack and turned back to wink flirtatiously in Betty’s direction. “It’s on Betty Cooper.”

Let the Games Begin (strip soccer)

“Let’s play a game.”

I roll my eyes at Tyler, not exactly in the mood for games after the extremely draining task of weeding through, then responding to all of my emails.

“C'mon, it’ll be fun, promise,” he pleads.

“What game?”

“So it goes like this: there’s a soccer ball and two goals.  I try to get the ball in your goal, and you try to get it in mine.  Whoever gets the most goals wins.”

“…Tyler, that’s just soccer,” I sigh.

“Yep.  Only in this version, every time you get a goal, the other person has to remove an article of clothing,” he smirks.

“Oh my god,” I groan.  "I’m not doing that.“

"Pleeaase,” he pouts, shoving me around a bit to annoy me.

“Go away.”

“Fine….pussy,” he says, cracking up when he sees my expression.

“Shut up.  I’m better than you at soccer, you’re a basketball player,” I mumble.

“Yeah?  Why are you so afraid then?” he taunts.

“I’m not!  Fucking come on, I’ll play your stupid game,” I seethe

Tyler just chuckles, grabbing a ball and making his way down to the basement.  I follow him reluctantly.

When we get down, Tyler gathers random objects from around the room to make goal boundaries.

“So how many goals should we go up to before someone wins?” Tyler scratches his chin thoughtfully.

“Well I’m only wearing so many articles of clothing,” I roll my eyes.

“Good point,” he grins.  He pauses for a second before shouting “Threetwoone Go!” and before I can react, he punts the ball through my goal.  

“Go ahead,” Tyler smirks, motioning for me to remove my sweatshirt.

“Cheap shot,” I grumble, pulling the hoodie over my head and quickly discarding it.  I then go to retrieve the ball, feeling more determined than ever to rid him of his annoyingly cocky attitude.

I race towards his goal while he’s still basking in his victory, intending to catch him off guard, but he catches me at the last second and pulls the ball out from under me.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that if you wanna beat me, babe,” Tyler taunts.

“Just go,” I growl.  "You don’t even stand a chance.“

A half an hour later, we’re both sweaty and out of breath.  Tyler stands across from me in just his gym shorts, watching as I pull off my t-shirt and grumble about how unfair his latest goal was.

He rolls his eyes at me and I decide that that is the final straw.  I lunge at him, knocking him down and easily tapping the ball into his goal.  I grin widely and turn around, fully prepared to gloat to him; but when I go back to face him, I see his limp body on the floor a few feet away from me.

"Jesus!” I cry out, rushing to his side and kneeling beside him.  "Oh my god, oh my god.“

"Ah-hh, baby?” he says weakly.  

“Where does it hurt?  What happened?” I scan his body, trying to find the source of his pain.  When I reach out to feel for any broken bones, I feel him grab my arms and pull me down on top of him.  I struggle against his bare chest, shifting on top of him to look at his face.

“Fuck you, Tyler, do you know how worried I was?” I screech, shaking my head at the smug grin decorating his face; all traces of his previous anguish have completely vanished.  "You are such an asshole.“  I wrench myself from his grasp and clamber to my feet.

"Aww I’m sorry babygirl, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Whatever.”

“I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you then, huh?” Tyler gets to his feet.

I am about to ask what exactly he means by that, when he scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder.

“What the hell?!”

“C'mon, love, we’re already half naked, the rest is easy,” he laughs.

When we get to our bedroom he lets me down, but quickly shoves me back down on the bed.  He licks his lips as his eyes graze my body.  

“God, you are fucking perfect,” he mumbles, quickly ridding me of the rest of my clothes.  Tyler crawls on top of me, still in his shorts, and gently presses a finger against me.  "Mm, someone got wet playing soccer.“

He finally slips a finger, then another, inside me; and begins to thrust and curl them.  He chuckles at the way I squirm under his touch.

"Fuck, just get inside me,” I groan, having had enough of his teasing.

“Oh no, you’re not in charge here,” he chides softly.  "Maybe I should just leave you here for a while, make you beg for me.“

"No!  Please daddy, please fuck me,” I smile when I see his jaw tighten from hearing the pet name.

“Just because you’ve been such a good girl for me,” he says, slipping out of his shorts and briefs.  He slides his tip into me, waiting for me to grind down against him and beg him for more.  When he gets what he wants, Tyler slams himself into me all the way.  I arch my back against the sheets at the sudden feeling, and he quickly begins to set a pace.  Tyler thrusts into me quickly and harshly, and I find myself close to my orgasm already, having gotten so worked up during the game.  I begin to clench around Tyler, and he groans, slipping a hand between us to rub at my clit.  He pushes me over the edge, and I bite my lip to stifle the moans spilling out of my mouth.

“Good girl,” he breathes heavily, coming up to his own end.  He manages a few more sloppy thrusts, before spilling into me.  Tyler then collapses on top of me, trying to slow his breathing.

I press a kiss to his lips, and he smiles down at me sweetly, saying: “I think I have a new favorite sport.”