but while it is around it's pretty damn impressive and terrifying

For The Pack

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Baron Corbin/Roman Reigns/Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Happy almost New Year, everyone! And happy Thirst Party Saturday! I give you, my first attempt at an A/B/O installment, involving wrestlers who played football and looked damn nice doing so. Tagging the usual suspects, @tox-moxley, @hardcorewwetrash and @oraclegazes! Enjoy!

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Bad Ideas (Chapter 15)

I honestly can’t tell you how amazing it was to receive so many sweet messages about this fic yesterday, I love my readers you guys are the best!!!

This is a long update (4000+) and Peter has to work through what happened so he is pretty much all over the place. Wade tries to comfort him as best as he can. A few NSFW moments because its Wade and Peter so they need some loving!

Only one (maybe two?) chapters after this one, so if you need to catch up, catch up HERE!!

❤️❤️❤️
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It was dark when they managed to find their way out of the abandoned building where they had been kept, and after realizing they were just in the next town over from home, Wade hot wired one of the trucks in the lot and they headed back  to see what was left of their lives.

It was gone.

“Jesus Christ.” Wade threw the stolen truck in park and jumped out of the cab, staring in disbelief.

His house and at least three fourths of the shop had been basically vaporized in the blast. A few chunks of the fridge had survived, there was maybe half of a bathtub lying in the yard. The apartment above the garage was non existent, and thousands and thousands of dollars worth of equipment was lying twisted and burnt in half melted piles.
What little was left standing was still faintly smoking, and the whole thing had been cordoned off by the police and firefighters for safety.

Wade wondered idly when he’d be getting a check from the insurance company, and if he could blame this whole thing on a faulty gas line.

“Seen if there is anything worth saving.” Wade instructed and took off towards what was left of the office, looking for his safe and the secret panel underneath it.

“There you are.” He tipped the burnt and blackened safe over on it’s side, impressed that it had survived at all. There was a little bit of cash in there but he wasn’t worried about that. No, he needed what the safe had hidden.
Buried in the ground was another safe, this one smaller, and Wade opened it hurriedly, pulling out several stacks of bills, an extra gun, and another set of IDs and paperwork for himself as well as a new cell phone.
It was an emergency fund if he ever had to pick up and run, and now seemed like a good time for that sort of thing.

“Pete!” He tossed it all in a bag in the truck and called for Peter who had been searching through the house for anything good. “Let’s go. We will stay in a hotel for tonight and tomorrow take off to a safe house I have across state lines.”

Peter just nodded, dropping whatever he was holding and brushing his hands off before climbing in the truck.

“Are you alright?” Wade asked finally, because Peter hadn’t said anything since they had escaped. Wade was willing to give him space to deal with whatever the fuck had happened back there, but he was also getting worried because the anger, frustration, bitter rolling from his omegas shoulders hadn’t lessened at all.

“It’s fine, Pete. We will just pick up and move on and start over. I’ve done it before, you’ve done it before. It’s fine. We can work out… all of this. Okay? Nothing we can’t get through. We’re gonna be fine. We’ll make it, baby boy.”

But Peter didn’t even look at him, just leaned back on the seat and closed his eyes.

“Alright then.” Wade gave one last look at what had been his home for almost five years now, and sped off down the drive.

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Headcanon for Scout/Medic/Heavy

I was sending stupid ideas to @camiluna27, and now you must suffer too…

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But there’s so much you could write about though

Like, Heavy laughing the first time he lets Scout try and lift Sacha (his gun)
While medic ‘tuts’ int he background, waiting to heal whatever the runner sprains

The team growing suspicious when they notice Heavy is sharing his sandvich a lot more frequently with the runner, and Medic almost never uses the Crusader’s Crossbow, unless he has to (on the runner). Bc for some reason the fandom has decided Scout is afraid of needles and I will keep that odd headcanon alive…

Scout and MEdic racing, and discovering that without the medigun pack, the German is faster… then the runner sulks all day long about it, and has to be tempted out of his hidey-hole  with a sandvich

To Medic’s dismay and Heavy’s amusement, Scout has given each of the Medic’s birds… nicknames.
Archie (Archimedes), Sock (Socrates), Des (Descartes), Creepy (Freud), Gay (Sappho), Hypothermia (Hippolyta)… they’re pretty sure the last one is less of a nickname and more, that he hadn’t heard the doc right when introduced to them all.

Heavy and Medic having to deal with the fact that Scout, whilst matured since arriving on the team, is still quite young in comparison and sometimes it causes them frustration/distress

The pair talking quietly over having such a young man with them; their fears of the day when they no longer have access to respawn, and will continue to age, for once.

Medic keeping Heavy and Scout’s souls closest to him, and refusing to sell them to the  devil until absolutely necessary. As it maintains their immortality that way…

Heavy not understanding the awkward way Scout and Zhanna stare at each other when he takes his boyfriends home to meet/re-meet in Scout’s case, his family. Bc neither of them have mentioned to Heavy that Zhanna flat out asked Scout to bang her… and he couldn’t shut up long enough to.

t will come out, maybe when one of them (likely scout) is very drunk… Heavy will be concerned, but Medic will think it was hilarious. And tell the story of how he met his first girlfriend in college, by giving her a nazi heart on valentines day with flowers… she was touched but slightly concerned. And also, had her own girlfriend.

Scout tries on the Medipack, and nearly backs his spine because he ignored the warning to 'brace for it’
(you know, how sometimes you misjudge how heavy/light something is, and even though you CAN lift it, the shock of it being different can cause chaos?)

Nothing is more frustrating than morning-scout, for the other two.
You’d think he’d crawl out of bed at 10am or later, looking for sugar, but no… oh god no, the horror. He’s a MORNING PERSON.
Medic and Heavy are most certainly NOT; coffee is lifeblood before 9am.
But Scout, oh he’s up at 6. 6!!!
Awake and in his jogging attire, he’s off for a morning run… and the other two feel old just acknowledging that the little fucker even wants to do that when he could be sleeping, like a NORMAL PERSON…
And he comes back, later on, sometimes boasting about how he’s beaten the BLU scout in their little morning competition, or grumbling about losing and that 'he was tired, alright?’

which means they either sleepily congratulate or commiserate the sweaty mess, before heartily evicting him to the showers because he needed one. He’d always make the same lewd overture, “Come with me?”

And very rarely, one of them does.

Mostly, Scout goes alone… because the rest of the base SIGNED a DOCUMENT banning any and all 'bedroom acts’ (Engie’s flustered words) in the communal shower room UNLESS you were 'damn sure no one else’s around to see ya’.

He had SEEN THINGS and DID NOT WANT TO SEE HEM AGAIN, THANK YOU PARDNER.

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They had caused some trouble when they had joined together; Heavy would snap awake in a heartbeat, ready for combat. Medic would feel movement close by and jerk upright, blade to hand, ready to kill…

There had been cuts and bruises, accidental “Oh, it’s YOU” moments… but they laughed about them now. Knew each other well enough to sense the presence while they slept. It was safe.


And then along came SCOUT…

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@notyourlaura requested Hermione and Fleur for the female ships headcanons and I got v carried away alright

  • ok lbh Hermione would have very mixed feelings about Fleur when they first met
  • But Fleur would fucking fall in love Hermione immediately I am 110% on this
  • Hermione’s confused bisexual heart would be in turmoil because like ‘she is too pretty, and she’s a veela, and she’s not that impressive I mean yeah she’s in the triwizard tournament but like whatever and why does she keep talking to me is she trying to get one over on Harry like what
  • And as sweet and lovely and pretty and fiery as Fleur is she would be tragic at wooing someone because all her life she never had to try, men just sort of fell for her, even if her english wasn’t perfect or she said something wrong they still liked her, so she is just a mess with Hermione
  • Fleur would talk to all her Beauxbaton friends about how smart and lovely and pretty Hermione is but anytime she tried to say something to Hermione she would mess up and insult her because her english is still a process
  • ‘She said my hair was terrifying’ But like she meant terrific or something equally ridiculous
  • Viktor takes and interest in Hermione too and him and Fleur get low key really competitive over her attention
  • Like to the point where literally everyone knows except Hermione, who sort of knows that Viktor is interested but is still pretty convinced Fleur hates her or something
  • But then also she knows Fleur doesn’t hate her but she also doesn’t know like?? why is this pretty girl talking to me and why is she insulting me again and why does she look so nice while she’s insulting me what is going on
  • Ron would be hella bitter ok because he still has a thing for Hermione and she’s ‘fraternizing with the enemy/enemies’ 
  • And he would insult Viktor and Hermione would be annoyed and then he would insult Fleur and Hermione would go 0-100 in a heartbeat 
  • and then later she would be like ‘im just being truthful’ after roasting tf out of Ron as if she hadn’t just let him rant about Viktor for like fifteen minutes and her only response to that was just to roll her eyes and ignore him
  • Hermione goes to the Yule Ball with Viktor because when Fleur tries to bring up the Yule Ball she is trying to ask if Hermione has been asked by anyone but says ‘You haven’t been asked, no?’ and Hermione had literally just had a conversation with Ron who had assumed she wouldn’t get asked so she thinks Fleur is doing the same thing and she just goes off
  • And Fleur is like?? both upset that she upset her but also like ‘wow look at her hair when she’s angry it sparks and her accent is so pretty and I wonder what it would feel like to kiss her’
  • So Fleur would go alone to the Yule Ball and she would dance with whoever she wanted and she would literally stare at Hermione from the moment she arrived to the moment she left the ballroom
  • Oh my god when she found Hermione crying she would, like, aggressively bolster her up
  • (Fleur would be the type whose pep-talks are like ‘you are literally perfect and everyone around you is fucked and you don’t need them–no, stop saying you did something wrong, you literally do nothing wrong ever shut up you’re perfect and this is everyone else’s fault’ even if the person she’s talking to literally does everything wrong all the time)
  • And because Fleur is angry that Hermione’s upset she’s not as flustered so she can speak easier and she can actually get her thoughts accross correctly
  • Hermione would listen to it and correct her on her grammar because obviously she would do that and internally she would be freaking out like??? ‘why is she being nice?? oh my god she’s so pretty and now she’s nice oh my god’ she would be so overwhelmed
  • When Hermione is Viktor’s most important person in the second challenge Fleur would be absolutely devastated because obviously that means they’re in love and she doesn’t stand a chance
  • (Her sister notices the pining looks she is sending in Hermione’s direction after the second challenge and she would ask about it and immediately regret it because Fleur would go on for, like, an hour, because at least in French she can articulate how beautiful Hermione is to her and her sister is the only person she can talk to about it now because all her friends have told her that they have heard enough about Hermione oh my god)
  • She would go to Hermione basically to say ‘I respect your decision and if you want me to leave you alone I will’
  • She rehearses the words because she wants to say it right this time
  • And oh my god Hermione would sit there in petrified silence because her little confused bisexual heart would be like…running around in circles and screaming 
  • It would definitely be one of those ‘are you flirting with me?’ ‘I have been for the past four months but thanks for noticing’ situations oh my god
  • Hermione would tentatively offer for Fleur to tell her in french, because once Fleur finds out Hermione thought she hated her she’s trying to explain that she doesn’t, but she’s nervous, so she keeps messing it up
  • And Fleur would just like…stop…like…you understand french?? are?? are you serious this is so much easier
  • and she would just like wax poetic about Hermione for like five solid minutes as Hermione tries to keep up because like yeah she knows some french but oh my god please stop talking so fast did you just call me angelic what is going on??
  • when they start dating Fleur would be so extra oh my god she would be around Hermione all the time and she would compliment her in french if she couldn’t think of the word in english and her and Hermione would have these odd half english half french conversations that no one can quite keep up with
  • Fleur smiling like a damn fool everytime Hermione corrects her grammar 
  • Hermione kissing Fleur everytime a guy is staring at Fleur not exactly because she’s jealous but because she knows Fleur hates it when guys stare at her so she doesn’t want her to notice so she just kisses her to make her happy
  • Fleur begging Hermione to let her play with her hair and Hermione doesn’t want her to but then when she finally does Fleur manages to wrestle it into impressively pretty braids so Hermione just lets her play with her hair all the time and Fleur is loving it
  • Ron would still be bitter but he wouldn’t say anything because Hermione would hex the shit out of him
  • Harry would ship fleur and hermione so hard oh my god he would be rooting for them so hard
  • Fleur and Hermione would be such a power couple I’m so in love with them oh my god

Angst Prompt: Maine/Wash- Sigma using Wash’s body as well as Maine’s, keeping them locked in cells when he isn’t using them. Maine’s body when he needs force and Washington’s when he is using charm.

I hope the prompter is willing to accept a loose interpretation of their prompt.  The Meta “adopts” Wash after they find him in a bad way after the crash.  It’s messy but they try to make it work.

(Much like this story.)


The Meta removes what’s left of Wash’s helmet and runs gloved fingers carefully over his head and neck, looking for injuries.  Part of them loves this man.  Wash is good.  He tries so hard.  He’s been so loyal, so obedient.  Like Maine was.  And Freelancer repaid that by ruining him.  If he can think at all, he must feel so betrayed.

Can we help him?, part of them wonders, when Wash’s hand curls uncertainly around their forearm.


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to benthos

An attempt to do justice to @hardlynotnever and their Larkon pollution/mermaid art because weak is my middle name. Also, Zarkon is based on this thing.

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Disgusting is the only term he can grasp at that would perfectly surmise the situation Lance finds himself in.

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anonymous asked:

5 & oikawa?

I’m so sorry for this, I really am. I just started writing and then a shit-storm happened. 😭

-Admin Lana

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Living in this reality, fear was second nature, you couldn’t afford the leisure of letting your guard down. It was either kill or be killed, no in between. With every morning that you awoke, healthy and alive, there was the risk that you wouldn’t live to see tomorrow.

It began with an insignificant virus that most thought would pass with a simple vaccination, but it only expanded. Larger populations of people began to take ill, most cases resulting in death, until the disease consumed an entire race by replacing it with the corpses left in the aftermath. No amount of thrillers and Hollywood-made movies about the undead could prepare anyone for reality of the situation. The world as you knew I turned to utter chaos destroying what little you had left. The remaining humans, which you would have hoped would banded together, turned against one another in a fight for resources and shelter; every man for themselves. Each day you th baked the stars that somehow planted you at Oikawa’s side, thankful to see your boyfriend alive and healthy. Although you didn’t know which was more frightening; the thought of losing Oikawa to the hands of death, or watching him become the creature he refutes the most.

There are things in life that you dreaded to do, and supply runs happened to be one of them. Being open and exposed for zombies to prey upon you wasn’t the most secure feeling, but having Oikawa at your side, knowing that he’d protect you, put any doubts at ease.

What was once a well-stocked grocery store was now an abandoned building looking as if it had withstood years of war damage. It may as well have seeing as the windows were smashed, and it looked like it had been set a blaze a couple times. You weren’t looking to make out with an abundance of items from your list, but at least enough to survive another week. Oikawa held his hand up signalling you to stop while he checked the perimeter.

“Be careful.” You warned to which he responded with a quick kiss, holding up the gun had had acquired as if saying, ‘I have this now, I’ll be fine.’ While you were impressed with how he handled such a weapon, it didn’t stop you from worrying.

Once he disappeared around the corner, you fingered the knife holstered at your side instinctively, casting glances around the area for any signs of danger. The quiet surrounded the area settling into a cloudy feeling of what life was like before this. It was saddening to think of the lives that once bustled in and out of these doors, continuing with their mundane tasks, oblivious to what would soon become of them.

A low whistle sounded from inside the building, and you crept inside following the sound until you met with Oikawa. He was already packing items into his bag: water, canned foods, medicine, etc.

“There’s not much here, and what’s left is barely salvageable.”

You let out a groan of frustration at the news, but what could you expect? The place didn’t look too promising to begin win. Starting towards the next aisle, a hand suddenly shot out to stop you. Whipping around, you met warm brown eyes, and a finger pressed against your lips.

“I heard a noise.”

You could only hope that whatever else in here with the two of you couldn’t hear the clamour of your heart pundit against your rib cage. Once again, Oikawa held up his hand for you to halt while he went ahead. Shaking your head furiously, you tried to stop him, but a sharp glare ended your protests. Unsheathing the knife, you prepared yourself in case something happened while he was gone. It was eerily silent, not a sign of a living soul in sight. A passing thought told you that perhaps Oikawa’s hearing was beginning to wane, but you quickly found out that wasn’t the case. An animalistic shriek shook the very core of your soul, and within moments you were on your feet, racing in the direction the male ran off to.

When hearing the term ‘zombie’ one thinks of slow-moving creatures that shamble after you with an insatiable craving for the taste of human flesh, right?

Wrong.

Zombies took on an entirely new meaning that could never compare to any novel or movie. These 'things’ were fast, inhumanly so. They could cover the span of a football field within seconds with no hassle at all. It was startling to think of how advanced they were. Compared to them, humans stood a slim chance in any encounter.

“Tooru!” You called out upon seeing one of the undead straddling him, desperately trying to sink their teeth into his skin. It was painfully obvious to see he was struggling, and if you wanted to make it out of this alive, you’d have to intervene.

Taking a deep breath, you steels your nerves, taking a running start towards the fight. Knife in hand, you brought the weapon down in an arc, plunging it in between the creature’s shoulder blades earning a growl. You felt an arm hit your stomach sending you reeling backs few feet. Luckily that seemed to buy Oikawa time as he rolled off to the side, putting distance between himself and he zombie. But it wasn’t focuses on him, rather on you instead.

It stunk of rotting flesh, and was missing most of its teeth, but that wasn’t the right thing to focus on when it was charging at you at an alarming speed. Readying yourself again, you slashed the blade in multiple directions, hoping it’d catch it’s skin at least once. Luckily for you it did, but not after landing another blow to you.

“Shit, _____!” You could head Oikawa yelling for you as his foot steps came into your field of vision, strong arms hefting your body up. “We need to run now!” And then he was merely dragging you the exit.

The entrance was in sight, a few feet away at most. Breathless, and terrified to look back, the two of you hurdled to the door, throwing it open with force. Oikawa’s hand that was tightly placed in yours was suddenly ripped away. You didn’t want to look back, but you did so anyway. The damned zombie had him in its grasp, pulling him back with animalistic strength.

“Dammit, run ____! Don’t look back, just go!”

It was stupid to think you’d actually leave him behind to become fodder for the blood thirsty creature. You were scared, but losing Oikawa was more terrifying. Pulling the gun your sides, you took aim, silently praying that it’s hit their mark.

Several shots rang out along with a few screams, and you thought you’d hit Oikawa by mistake. That would have been the better outcome you supposed.

With the zombie dead and your boyfriend alive, the day seemed to be progressively looking up. A wry bit of laughter was wrung from your throat as you said, “We made it out of there pretty lucky, huh?”

But there was no snarky response to your comment, or answer at all for that matter. Focusing your gaze back on the male, he kneeled on the ground, hand clutching at his shoulder. A few droplets of blood seemed to escape the area he was holding, painting the ground scarlet. Ever so slowly, he lifted his head to meet you, an an agonising expression painted across his face. It was then that you noticed the veins on his neck beginning to turn a sickeningly tar colour, and the whites of his eyes reddening.

No.

No.

This couldn’t be real.

You pinched yourself to wake up from this nightmare, but it wasn’t faux. The man dying in front of you was real. Zombies were real. Death was very real.

Sudden realisation crashes over you in a wave, your balance suddenly wavering as the thing you feared most was coming to life. You slowly approached him, hands reaching out for him, but he shifted away, shaking his head in protest.

“I’m sorry. I promised I would always be there to protect you, but it looks like I couldn’t even do that for myself.” His tone was bittersweet tinged with pain and sadness, but you knew he was trying to remain in tact for you.

His hand reached down to pick up his gun, placing it in your hands. You knew what he was asking of you. One by one, he wrapped your fingers around the handle, moving to push the barrel to his forehead. “I need you to do this for me before it’s too late. Before I hurt you.” The last part was quieter. A few nights ago he revealed to you that what he feared most than death was hurting you.

Shaking your head, you felt your breath catch in your throat. Feat was coursing through your veins, icing any control you and over yourself, mind racing a mile a minute to conjure a way to save him, but there wasn’t. Both of you knew that.

Kill or be killed.

“Please _____, I’m begging you. I can feel it starting to take over.” Oikawa pleaded, and the tears that leaked from his eyes weren’t that if water, but blood.

It was too late.

“I love you…” The words were shaken and not spoken without a hitch, but he received the message. There was a silent understanding that passed between you two without uttering a word. He knew.

“Love you too sweetheart.”

The last glimpse you had to remember him by was being bloody and bruised, shifting into a creature he fought everyday to protect you from, but you didn’t care. It was still Oikawa Tooru, the man you loved, albeit a more twisted version of him.

Bang.

Bang.

3

Hello everybody!  So I have a bit of writer’s block on ‘Blood in the Water’ and a few other stories that I have neglected for YEARS because I got so into this world.  While I am still writing my Teen Wolf fanfiction, the next chapter might be a bit further out than usual.  However, I’m giving you guys a little something to compensate!  I’m working on some flash-forwards so you can see Charlie and Stiles after high school, as they get older and develop in the real world.  They will not necessarily occur in chronological order—it’s just snippets of their life together (with appearances by friends and family).  This first one is going to be a two-parter, the next half being released some time next week.  Please read, enjoy, and comment!

*EDITED BECAUSE I POSTED THIS WHEN SLEEP DEPRIVED AND MISSED SOME RIDICULOUS STUFF*

(I’m still sleep deprived so I might edit again)

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Kind of Perfect - A Hospital Room Scene

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“Ow, ow, ow, ow, fucking ow!”

Over eight hours in, and she still felt like the end was nowhere in sight.  She should have gone for a C-section.  Why the hell wouldn’t she go for a C-section?  It was freaking 2024 for fuck’s sake!  With the medical advances these days they could probably have C-section machines around the city like freaking ATMs.  Not that they should–that would probably lead to some terrifying mistakes and a ton of lawsuits–but it was a possibility.  It was a freaking out-patient procedure.  But no.  She had to go put her feet in those goddamn stirrups and essentially shove a watermelon out of her vagina while her doctor stared at her hooha.

The frequent exclamations of ‘ow’ blended together into one generalized shrieking noise as the contraction reached its peak. Tiny tears collected in the corners of her eyes as she squeezed them shut and her hands grasped the once crisp, now sweat-laden hospital sheets, balling the fabric up in her fists.  Then she felt something other than the blinding pain of her nether region ripping apart—a cool washcloth pressing against her forehead.  Her eyes flew back open and snapped to the person whose hand was holding said washcloth.  There he was.  The father of the tiny monster clawing its way out of her.  Stiles smiled down at her, his eyes filled with happiness, love, and all that shit they were supposed to be filled with.  Screw that.  Screw happiness and love.  She glared back, her eyes spitting fire.

“You did this to me, you asshole!” she growled.  “I hate you!  I am going to crazy murder you!  I’m going to gouge out your eyes with an ice cream scoop and then I’m going to feed them to a bucket of maggots!  I’m going to yank out your teeth and string them together like a pearl necklace!  I’m going to chop your balls off so you can never do this to me again!”

Stiles just stared down at her, completely unfazed. And for some reason that pissed her off.  “That’s it, pookie bear,” he said, a wry smile on his face as he patted her on the head.  “Just let it out.”

“I am going to break your face!”

Given the look that Charlie was getting from the nurse, her curses had crossed the threshold of normal labor pain-induced anger and meandered into the borderline psycho territory.  But despite those judgmental glances, Gladys and her stupid salmon colored scrubs didn’t know the half of it.  What they heard were some of the tamest, least graphic forms of verbal abuse she had in her arsenal.  She kept the other ones to herself given that there may have been a slight chance that that wide-eyed old harpy might contact family services and declare her an unfit mother.  So in the meantime she would just hold her tongue and catch her breath.

Unfortunately, she didn’t get much of a break.  Oh, shit.  Here it came.  The tearing pain.

“Alright,” Dr. Carleton—the resident OB/GYN—announced, her head hidden somewhere behind the cloth covering Charlie’s propped up legs.  “It looks like another contraction.”

“Yeah, no shit!” Charlie shouted through teeth clenched so tightly she was surprised they didn’t shatter.  Pain rippled through her, making all of her muscles physically shake.  “I need more drugs.  The ones you gave me aren’t working.”

“It’s too late to increase the strength of your epidural,” Dr. Carleton explained calmly, her head coming into view.  She somehow managed to remain unsurprised by the look of sheer, unmitigated rage on Charlie’s face, and offered up some completely useless advice.  “Ice chips can help.”

Charlie couldn’t find the air to breathe, but somehow managed to find enough to yell.  “I DON’T WANT ANY MORE ICE CHIPS!”

To her right she heard a subtle clearing of the throat, giving her the impression she was about to be betrayed.  She glowered up at Stiles, watching as the hand not holding hers was raised in the air like they were back in high school and he was asking for a hall pass.  “Um, can I get some drugs?” he said in a voice that was only about 75% humorous.  “The way she’s gripping my hand, I’m pretty sure she’s shattered like….all my metacarpals.”  He leaned towards her, whispering out of the corner of his mouth.  “Don’t worry, I’ll  totally share.”

Immediately, Stiles turned towards her, grinning stupidly and holding up a hand for a high-five.  His grin, however, faltered when he saw the scowl etched into her face as if it was made of stone.  A deep, animalistic growl emanated from Charlie’s throat as she glowered at him.  Stiles swallowed heavily and slowly withdrew his hand from the air.  “R—right.  Not the time.”  That hand went back to smoothing back the sweaty, flyaway hairs out of her face.  “You look beautiful.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Once again, her words turned into a pained cry as she pushed through the contraction.  She kept counting down from ten, promising herself it would be over by the time she his zero.  It was true the twelfth time.  When the contraction finally released, she collapsed back against the scratchy hospital pillows, red-faced, out of breath, and her chest heaving from the effort.  Her entire body felt heavy, like it was made of lead.  She couldn’t lift her her head–hell, she could barely wiggle a pinky.  When Dr. Carleton spoke, Charlie felt like the words were coming from far away.  Like miles away.

“Alright, Charlotte,” she announced in what was probably a well practiced ‘soothing yet stern’ tone.  “Your contractions are under a minute apart.  The baby should be coming soon.”

“Really?!” Stiles demanded, an almost gleeful tone in his voice.  “Like how soon?”

The doctor said something innocuously optimistic.  For the life of her Charlie could not hear what it was, but Stiles looked so damn excited.  Charlie didn’t have the energy to look excited.  Or to speak.  Or even to whisper the words ‘fucking finally’ that floated through her mind.  Hell, she didn’t even have the energy to cry.  She just lay back, staring blankly at the ceiling and gasping for breath.  The hand holding hers tightened its grip and pulled it upwards, off the bed where it lay limply.  Charlie glanced up at Stiles to see him lift her hand to his face, pressing a kiss against the back of her hand. His lower lip seemed to be trembling slightly and his eyes were shining in the fluorescent lighting.  He was almost crying.

In that moment, the pain and exhaustion faded and the cold sweat covering her was rendered irrelevant by the feeling of warmth that was lit in her chest.  Her lips twitched to form a weak smile and she squeezed his hand back, making him look at her.  Her mouth was dry and sticky from mild dehydration, but she managed to get her lips to silently for the words ‘I love you’.  Immediately, Stiles dropped down so that he was crouching and rested his chin on the edge of the bed, his face was inches away from hers.  “It’s idiotic how much I love you.”

Charlie exhaled sharply—the closest thing to a laugh she had seen since the contractions were about six minutes apart.  She reached over and cupped the side of his face, letting her thumb brush against his cheek and her fingertips brush through his hair.  “I know,” she whispered back, looking at him pointedly.  “You are an idiot.”

“Hey, you’re the one that married me,” Stiles retorted, fiddling with the gold band around his finger like he always did when he was nervous.  “Which one of us is the bigger idiot?”

“You are,” she replied easily.  “The answer to that question is always going to be you.”

The light in Stiles’s eyes got a little brighter as the soft smile turned into a giant grin.  He surged forwards, closing the distance between them and pressing a kiss to her lips that somehow managed to be rough and gentle all at once.  When he pulled back, his hand darted to his face, wiping away the few small tears that leaked from the corners of his eyes.  Charlie leaned forwards slightly, pressing their foreheads together.  “Stiles,” she whispered quietly.  “I want you to promise me something.”

He gave a small nod, his eyes never leaving hers.  “Whatever you want.”

“Listen to me very carefully,” she replied, her green eyes boring into his brown ones.  “When this is all over, you’re getting me curly fries.  The saltiest, least healthy ones you can find.”

Stiles exhaled sharply in something like a laugh, lifting his head to press a quick kiss against her clammy forehead before staring back at her meaningfully.  “Charlie, after this I will get you all of the curly fries.  Every last one.  I will fight Ronald McDonald to get you curly fries.”

“They don’t sell curly fries at McDonald’s.  They only sell regular fries there.”

Letting out a groan, Stiles rolled his eyes heavily.  “What’s with you and the semantic arguments?  You’re in labor!  Give it a rest while you’re bringing our child into the world and appreciate the fact that I would fight a clown for you!”

Charlie grinned back widely in the face of his frustration, but that grin quickly morphed into a grimace as it started again.  Instinctively, her back lifted off the bed as she curled inwards, her muscles clenching horrifically.  In that moment she decided she was really freaking bitter about all those Lamaze and parenting classes she dumped money on, because apparently they did not prepare you at all.  Suddenly, she felt something solid behind her.  Glancing over her shoulder she saw Stiles sitting there, propping her up and perching his head on her shoulder.  “O—okay,” he stammered out in a panic, the imminence of everything finally getting to him.  “Alright, um….so just—just do the breathing thing that lady with the healing crystals talked about in the class we thought was stupid.  You know the quick, short breaths thing?  Heh, heh—”

“Stiles, I know how to breathe!”

“Okay,” Dr. Carleton’s voice interrupted. “It looks like the baby is about to crown.  I’m going to need one big push.”

Oh, crap.  Oh, crap.  Here it came.  “Aaaaah!”   Charlie began to scream again.  Only this time, Stiles was screaming right along with her.  The room was filled with their joint screams echoing against the walls and probably scaring the crap out of whoever it was occupying the room next door.  The loud wailing lasted until all of the air had been forced out of lungs, leaving her deflated and gasping for breath. “Oh my God!” she cried out, her face scrunched up with effort as she continued to push.  “How the hell is its head this big?!”

“That’s a good sign!” Stiles stammered out in a voice that went past hopeful into the realm of manic.  “That means she’s going to become super-smart!  She’ll be the next Steve Jobs, invent some crucial piece of technology, get rich, and then support us for the rest of our lives.  We’ll retire when we’re like 45.”

“Stiles!”

“Or maybe she’ll be and aeronautical engineer!” he barreled on.  “She could totally build the Millenium Falcon!”

“Stiles!” Charlie shouted.  “Not helping!”

“Wha—oh, right.  Breathe.  Heh, heh—”

Twenty minutes.  That’s how much longer it took.  Twenty more minutes of pain, exhaustion, more than a little bit of swearing, a few more threats to Stiles’s manhood, and it was all over.  The whole experience was excruciatingly painful and not particularly dignified.  The low moment probably rolled out around the time Stiles started shouting out lacrosse metaphors in the last few minutes of the process.  Something for which she was obligated to elbow him in the stomach.  Hard.  Her head was spinning and at one point she thought she might actually pass out, but somewhere in the haze she could hear the sound of someone crying out.  Someone that wasn’t her or Stiles.

Her body went slack and collapsed back against Stiles, its job finally done.  He was whispering something in her ear in between soft kisses covering her cheek and the column of her neck.  But for the life of her she couldn’t understand what he was saying.  The words were too rushed and she was too dazed.  What she did hear, though, was the voice of Dr. Carleton asking him if he wanted to cut the umbilical cord.  That calm, reasonable voice that almost made her sound like the automated voicemail lady.  A few moments later Charlie felt herself being slowly lowered down to the mattress as Stiles stood up from his spot on the bed, pressing one last kiss on her cheek.

She should have felt different, right?  She should feel like she was a mother.  She was a mother.  Everything was different now—she had become something different.  But all she felt was tired.  Collapsed back on the mattress as she was, she might as well have been melting into the formerly overly starched sheets.  It might as well have been physically impossible at this point, but Charlie removed her feet from the stirrups—with a little help from Gladys the nurse, admittedly—and pushed herself up on her elbows to see what was going on.  

Everybody had moved away from the bed now.  Stiles, Dr. Carleton, Gladys the nurse—they were all huddled in a corner with what looked like a ball of blankets.  Or at least that’s all she saw.  Stiles was staring down at that plushy pink blanket with a strange expression of fear and awe.  He turned to look in her direction.  She couldn’t tell if it was a smile or a grimace on his face.  “Oh my God, Charlie, she’s so beautiful, but I swear right now it looks like our baby is covered in ectoplasm or something.”

“Don’t cross the streams,” she said with a weak smile, craning her head to get a better look.

But Stiles didn’t seem to hear her.  In fact, he didn’t seem to hear anything.  At all.  The nurse placed that small bundle of pink blankets and he was looking down at it like he had seen the face of God.  Dr. Carleton and Gladys quietly excused themselves, leaving Charlie and Stiles alone in the room with one other tiny human person.  One other person she hadn’t actually met yet.  It—she had been growing inside her for the past eight months—she had felt her kick, turn, and hiccup for two solid hours—but she had never met that tiny little girl.  She had only imagined her.  From her smell to the feeling of that tiny hand clamping around her finger, she had imagined her.  And as it stood now, the anticipation was scaring the crap out of her.

Stiles slowly walked back towards her, his eyes never leaving that small bundle in his arms.  He came to a stop in front of the bed, lowering himself so that he was sitting next to her.  A tiny little creature shifted inside, and Charlie sucked in a breath.   The face surrounded by those blankets was perfect.  Eyes still swollen shut, raw, pink skin, the lightest dusting of brown hair on that mostly bald head, and damn it if it wasn’t the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her entire life.

“So,” Stiles mumbled quietly from next to her.  “This is our daughter.  We have a daughter now.”

“Yeah,” Charlie whispered, the word coming out so quietly it probably sounded more like a sigh.  She glanced between Stiles and their little girl.  He was staring down at her like she was the sun, complete with watering eyes, and looking like he had no intention of letting her go.  Gently, Charlie placed a hand on his arm.  “I think it’s my turn now.”

Stiles’s arms instinctively tightened around the baby, shooting her a sidelong glance.  “Just a few more seconds.”

“Stiles—”

He let out a sulky groan, letting his head sag down on his shoulders.   He peeked back up at her through narrowed eyes, but sighed in assent.  “Fine,” he muttered quietly.  Stiles shifted from the bed, instead kneeling in front of Charlie.  Slowly, he eased the bundle into Charlie’s arms and stepped back.

Those harsh fluorescents seemed to dim, replaced instead by a warm light.  Everything stopped.  The voice on the intercom faded away, the footsteps disappeared, the world stopped turning—it was just her and that tiny little human.  That tiny, perfect little girl.  Reaching out a single finger, she traced along the cheek.  It was so unbelievably soft.  Charlie’s chest seized up, and it was enough to make her realize that her heart didn’t belong in her chest anymore.  It was beating inside the girl wrapped in her arms.  “Hi there,” she whispered.  “I’m your mom.  And I’m going to love you so much you’re not even going to go through a rebellious teenage phase.”

Charlie could have gone on staring forever, but one distinctive sound managed to force its way through her reverie.  A loud, mechanical click.  Her head snapped around towards the source of the noise only to find Stiles standing there, Polaroid camera in one hand, that small, square photo in the other.  “Couldn’t wait till I brushed my hair?” she grumbled drolly.

Stiles gave an unapologetic shrug.  “Nope.”  He walked back over to the bed, plopping down and swinging his legs onto the mattress.  An arm circled around her middle pulling her closer to him so her back was pressed against his chest.  In that moment she felt three heartbeats—hers, Stiles’s, and their baby’s.  She was pretty sure there was nothing in the world that could top that.

“Can you believe we made that?” Stiles whispered, perching his head on Charlie’s shoulder.  Reaching out, he gently tapped a finger on that button nose, and the baby shifted in her blanket, smacking her lips slightly.  He let out a contented sigh, pressing her lips against Charlie’s temple before pulling her closer to him.  “Thank God she’s got your nose.”

Charlie’s eyebrows pulled together in a frown and she glanced up at him over her shoulder.  “What’s wrong with your nose?”

“Nothing,” he replied casually.  “Yours just crinkles in this super-adorable way when you get mad, and I believe that that should be preserved for posterity.  Why do you think I try to annoy you all the time?”

Charlie rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the stomach.  “You don’t have to try and annoy me.  My annoyance is just a reasonable reaction to the stupid shit you do.”

“We have the best baby in the world,” Stiles barreled on, ignoring her quip.  “And I mean the absolute best one.  They’ve got to have competitions for that.  Hell, curling is an official Olympic sport, so they must have some best baby award. And ours totally wins.”

“You bet your well-sculpted ass she does,” Charlie grinned back.  

Managing to wrench her eyes away from her daughter, Charlie twisted around to face him.  His eyes were crinkled at the corners from smiling and there was a warmth behind them.  They could be in the middle of a blizzard, and when he looked at her like that she wouldn’t feel cold at all.  Her eyes flickered down to his lips for a moment before returning to his, but once they did the expression in Stiles’s eyes had changed slightly.  That light was still there, but the look was harder, more intense.  The two of them collided, Stiles’s hand winding into her hair as their lips moved together.  It was only a few moments, though, before the baby stirred in Charlie’s arms and forced them to separate.

The both of them turned back to their daughter and Charlie collapsed backwards, allowing Stiles to take her weight.  “You know we’re going to have to decide on a name for her now,” she mumbled.  “We were supposed to have an extra month for that.”

“We can talk about it in a little while,” Stiles whispered back.  “For now I think you need to get some sleep.  You just spent nine hours shoving a watermelon out of your vagina.”

Charlie let out a scoff and smacked him hard on the shoulder.  “Hey!  I’m the only one allowed to call it that.”

But Stiles didn’t seem to hear her.  He reached over to the bedside table, grappling around with minimal coordination before grabbing hold of something.  When he turned back towards her he was holding the Polaroid camera.  Shooting her a sly smile, he held the machine out in front of him. Charlie narrowed her eyes at him and let out a loud harrumph.  “Stiles, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” he shot back.  “First family selfie.”

“Seriousl—”

“I’d smile if I were you,” he interrupted.  “This thing isn’t digital and you don’t want to have your first photo with your devastatingly handsome husband and gorgeous newborn baby look like Nick Nolte’s mugshot, do you?”

Charlie rolled her eyes, but leaned into him anyway.  “Should we do duck lips?”

“That is your prerogative.”

Charlie wasn’t sure why—maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the dehydration—but she found that four word response inexplicably hilarious.  She all but broke down giggling, slumping against Stiles as her whole body shook. It took a few moments of him staring at her like she was a complete lunatic, but soon enough he broke down as well, leaving them both in a puddle of hysterical laughter.  Until, that is, they heard that tell-tale click.

The laughing abruptly stopped, replaced by the whirring mechanical noise coming from the camera.  They watched with an odd degree of anticipation as the thing spat out that little square photo, their eyes following it as it floated onto the knitted blanket covering her legs.  Stiles let out a grunt and threw a hand in the air in frustration.  “Well there goes that idea,” he muttered bitterly.

Frowning to herself, Charlie plucked up the photo and flipped it over to get a decent look at it.  Their girl was between them as the both of them were doubled over with laughter, wide grins plastered across their faces.  She cocked her head to the side, looking at the image carefully.  They looked like complete morons.  Happy morons.

“I don’t know.  It’s kind of perfect.”

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Waaaaah!  Sorry, I just so wanted to write this so badly!  Like I said, this is part one.  Part two will have them still at the hospital and will feature guest stars Lydia, Scott, and a tiny bit of Kira.
Life Will Always Be

Happy Royai Week! 

Title: Life Will Always Be 

Word Count: 3,529

Prompt: Music

Summary: The wedding of Fuhrer Roy Mustang and Captain Riza Hawkeye. 

A/N: This is Chapter 5 of my dance series ‘You Lead I’ll Follow’. This chapter is the entire reason I started that series in the first place. So, I’m pretty excited to get to finish it out during Royai Week. Previous knowledge of the series is not required, but encouraged. I hope you guys enjoy. :)

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Exo Scenario: Bad Boy! Yixing ~

Could you do a Yixing scenario where he’s a bad boy that has a soft spot for the reader? Thanks!

Absolutely! Thank you for the request :) This will be my first Yixing request so I hope it turns out well. Let me know what you think of it? (This was way longer than I thought it was going to be).

When you saw him pull into the school parking lot during your freshman year, on a motor cycle no less, you knew he was trouble. And maybe it also had to do with the way that all the girls around you - both lower and upperclassmen - whispered about him, but you knew to stay away. He was bad - in more than one way it seemed. Bad for you, and just bad in general. 

But that didn’t stop you from looking at him every once in a while, and it also didn’t stop you from blushing and hiding behind your hair every time he caught you staring. 

It was in your junior year, his senior year, that he finally came up to you. You had thought after nearly three whole years of catching the other looking at you, he would have made his way over to you sooner. But maybe he had other things to do, prettier girls to look at. When he finally did come up to you, you were at your locker, packing your bag for the day. You were supposed to be walking home and then meeting your best friend for pizza later tonight, after your homework. You were glad that it was finally friday, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do your homework early. 

“Hey.” a voice interrupted your thoughts as you packed your things away, frightening you for a second. He sounded so confident when he spoke, even in that one little word. Your eyes widened up at him, wondering what he could possibly want from you. His leather jacket hung lazily off his frame and you couldn’t help but steal glances at how toned the muscles of his stomach were, his shirt lifting up slightly as he leaned up against the lockers to talk to you.

“Uhh, hi?” you said, so absolutely confused. He chuckled at your answer.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his brown eyes not looking away from your face. Geez, were his eyes gorgeous!

You told him your name, stumbling over it because you weren’t used to talking to him, and you were a little anxious as to why he would want to talk to you now, after all these years. 

“Pretty name.” he said, his eyes trailing quickly up your body, almost as if he were trying to respectful but also check you out at the same time. There seemed to be a bit of a confused expression on his face, like he wasn’t sure how to talk to you. That made two of you. “Why haven’t I heard it before?” he asked, an eyebrow raising. Was he flirting with you?

“I…uh, I don’t know. I’m a junior, a year under you.” you said, as if that was enough of an excuse. He did hang out with enough girls in your grade that the excuse you gave didn’t cut it, but…you didn’t know what else to say. 

His eyebrows furrowed after a few seconds, but then he nodded, “That must be it.” and then he was looking at you with that devilish smile of his. Except you had never realized just how adorable it was with those dimples of his. Damn was his smile just perfect. How had you never noticed his dimples? Well, you had never been this close to Yixing before. While you were staring at him, he cocked his head to the side, “You do know my name, right?”

You nodded, your head bobbing quickly, “Yes. You’re Zhang Yixing, senior from Changsha.” 

Yixing grinned, seeming impressed that you even knew where he was originally from. And then his dimples were back and you felt the need to smile right back. He nodded toward your locker, “Are you leaving for the day? Do you need a ride home?” and at that, your heart beat a little faster.

“A-A ride?” you asked, just picturing yourself for a moment on his motor cycle and feeling a little terrified at the thought.

He nodded, “Yeah. I don’t usually give girls a ride, but I think I can make an exception for you.” and he winked at you, biting his lip for a second before he grinned. Damn. You didn’t know what to say. Did he pull this on everyone? No, you didn’t think so. You really hadn’t seen Yixing give rides to any other girl, no matter how many times some of them asked.

“I-I would have to give you directions to my house.” you said, as if that was excuse to get out of it. But he wasn’t giving up.

“Good. That just means when I want to see you again this weekend, I know where to look.” 

“This weekend?” you asked, and maybe you were playing a little dumb, but you hadn’t expected this in the least.

He nodded, “Yeah. I’d like to take you out sometime, if that’s alright.” and then, as if remembering his bad boy status, he straightened, pulling on his leather jacket a little, “I don’t take just anyone out.”

“S-sure.” you stammered, nodding before slinging your backpack over your shoulder and closing your locker. 

“Good.” and he steered you toward the parking lot, where his bike waited in all of its sleek glory. You were frightened, but at least he had an extra helmet. You were surprised that he even had an extra. Had he been planning on asking you all day? How long had it taken Yixing, the school’s bad boy, to work up the courage to come talk to you? You felt your heart stammer, but you smiled thinking about it. Maybe he had a soft spot for girls like you. Or maybe it was just you that he had a soft spot for. You blushed at your own thoughts.

“Ready?” he asked when you had secured the extra helmet over your head and had told him the directions to your house, which streets to drive down and so on. His grin was wide and his dimples were deep even through the helmet’s visor. Your heart beat too rapidly in your chest at the sight, but you kind of liked it. You nodded, and he told you to get on. When you did, he laughed. “Hold onto me, (Y/N).” he said in a sweet voice, saying your name as if he had known it all these years instead of just over the last half hour. 

Your hands looped under his arms, securing you to his back though you were sure you were going to have a heart attack if your heart was going to beat any faster. He seemed to feel it through your contact with his back, as he chuckled and said, “Your heart is about to beat a lot faster, sweetheart.” and then he kicked up the engine and you were off, flying through the parking lot and then the streets, holding tight to Yixing’s back.

When the two of you had finally made it to your house, you weren’t sure if you were relieved or disappointed that it was over. You had never felt such a rush in your life and you kind of wanted to do it again. You had always been slightly afraid of the speed and sleek build of motor cycles, but now it was like you were on an adrenaline high. You wanted to yell like a child, “Again, again!”

“Did you like that?” Yixing asked when you returned his extra helmet. When you nodded, at a loss for words, his grin was wider and his dimples deeper than you had seen them. You felt the sudden urge to lean forward and kiss him, but you held yourself back. Yixing nodded toward your house, “Pick you up at eight tomorrow?” 

If that was how these things typically happened, being asked out on dates, then you were sure that you had been missing something the rest of your life. When you nodded and smiled shyly, he pulled out his phone, giving it to you to write your number in. After he had pocketed his phone and had gotten back on his motor cycle, he winked at you.

“See you.” and then he was revving his engine again and in the next second he was gone down the street.

You didn’t know how it had began, but you definitely wanted to see where this was going. You had a date with the school’s bad bay. Zhang Yixing. You smiled to yourself as you went inside the house.

dinomite-notreally  asked:

Hiya! I don't know how to phrase this,but I have a prompt idea. Would a continuation of The Pink Bag be possible? Like a couple days later FInn asks Rae to show him leading to him telling her how beautiful she is and fluff and smut kind of.. I don't know. its just an idea.

I hope this is kind of what you had in mind! Let me know what you think! :)
Pink Bag part 2

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anonymous asked:

Kimball and Carolina, food?

Written for RvB Ladies’ Night.

[AO3 | FFN | Fic Tag]

The first time Vanessa Kimball catches Agent Carolina alone, she’s just walked into a wall.

“Um,” Kimball says.

Carolina’s extended one arm to catch herself, the palm splayed out against the wall, elbow bent at a precise angle like she’s about to launch into a set of vertical one-handed pushups. She’s swaying on her feet, badly, and her modded MJOLNIR armor is heavy and complicated enough that when it sways, you notice. It creaks and groans ominously, and for a second all Kimball can think is that if Carolina smashes a hole through the wall of the mess hall, the New Republic doesn’t actually have the resources to build a new one.

“You may be right,” Carolina says, presumably to her onboard AI, and then she sighs, straightening with a visible effort. When she notices Kimball, the full weight of her attention is… alarming. There’s a trick she does with her helmet, a slight tilt to the head that puts her visor into shadow. It’s almost an affectation, deliberately dramatic, but no less effective for it.

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TITLE: Power Corrupts

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One Shot

AUTHOR: lokis-rose

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that you’re able to summon and wield both Mjolnir and Loki’s scepter at the same time. Imagine Loki’s reaction to that power. This leads ...

RATING: PG-13

NOTES/WARNINGS: Not exactly like the imagine, but still sexy. This is one of my first fic submissions on tumblr, so if you guys like it, let me know and I can do more!

The common room of the AvengersTower is filled with laughter. Everyone has had a few drinks and is beginning to unwind, all except Banner of course. Stark, being the attention-whore that he is, has started entertaining everyone with his inventions. He is using the arms of the Iron Man suit to mix cocktails. Thor roars in laughter as the “floating hands” flip glasses, slice lime wedges and pour drinks. Even Rogers and Loki seem to be amused. You are still a bit annoyed at Stark for the comment he made earlier. “Agents don’t wear dresses.” He’d said. “I’ll wear what I like on my night off.” You’d replied. The alcohol was settling in though and you found him easier to forgive. The robotic arms, at their master’s bidding, spill a bit of vodka on Rogers lap. Out of the corner of your eye you catch Natasha laughing. Good, you think, she deserves a night off.

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#79: His Reaction To Your Tongue Piercing

Ashton: As you talked to Ashton you could see him furrowing his eyebrows as you spoke. You slowly trailed off, embarrassed all of a sudden. You closed your mouth, staring at him, already realizing with dread that this date was not going well. The way he was staring at you made you nervous, especially with those beautiful eyes. But this time it wasn’t intrigue that was etched across his face, but it was confusion. “Please don’t take this rudely, but what is that clicking sound when you talk? There are certain words that you say, and there’s a small click.” You suddenly smiled, blushing. “I have my tongue pierced. I got it done when I was younger with my friends.” You said. “Never really took it out I guess, I hardly notice it. I see what you mean though.” You said, playing with the barbell in your tongue. “Didn’t it hurt?” He said in mild fascination, and in mild disgust. “For like a second. It hurt obviously, but the worst was after.” You said. It was such second nature it felt as if it had been there all of your life. “And why did you get it again?” He asked, intrigued. “Well my friend one day, just said: ‘hey lets get our tongues pierced’ and I vividly remember saying ‘are you insane?’ and she just shrugged her shoulders. I denied it, and then she called me chicken, before I caved, and got it done. She ended up being insane, and getting her tongue and her nose done. I just got my tongue done.” You said laughing, remembering your friend. “Thats nuts,” Ashton said shaking his head. “Is it a turn off?” You questioned timidly. He smirked and shook his head. “No, its cute actually. You’re pretty brave; way braver than I would have been.” He said. You smiled at him, blushing. He smiled back at you, and you realized that this date was going way better than you had thought.

Calum: Calum’s eyes grew wide when you stuck your tongue out to reveal the small ball on your tongue. He smiled, taking your sore tongue back into your mouth, before tilting your head. “What do you think?” You asked playfully, already playing around with the ball in your mouth. He opened and closed his mouth before grinning. “How much did that hurt?” He asked, his eyes trained on your mouth that was currently closed. “It was just like butter,” You said, managing to achieve a look of sheer disgust cross his face before he shuddered. “You know,” He said sauntering towards you. “That is really hot.” He said, his hands trailing down your sides. “Don’t even think about it,” You said, laughing. “What?” He asked in mock innocence. “I know exactly what you’re thinking, and the answer is no. This needs to heal.” You said. His face transformed into his signature pout, before he squeezed your hips. “Not even a kiss?” He asked. You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Fine,” You said, allowing him to press his lips softly against yours. He attempted to part your lips with his but you shook your head and pulled away. “Ah, ah, ah.” You scolded, making him pout. “Fine,” He sighed, releasing your from his grasp. “As soon as that is healed, your mine. I can’t even get past the thought of that hot piercing and I can’t do anything with you. God damn, you’re such a tease.” He hissed, but you backed up. “You’ll just have to wait.” You said, strutting away, making sure to wiggle your hips a little more than usual. 

Luke: “Come get a piercing with me.” Luke sat down abruptly, making you jump. “You want another?” You asked, already staring at his lip ring. “Yeah, I’m thinking my eyebrow.” He said, drawing is eyebrows together. “Come get one!” He pleaded, making you sigh. You had always wanted your tongue pierced… but you were always too scared. “I’ll hold you hand,” He added, seeing you contemplating the idea in your head. You took a moment to think, before sighing. “Fuck it. I’ll get my tongue pierced.” You said, shaking your head. “This has to be the most spontaneous and stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Lets go before I back out.” You said, standing up and waiting for Luke. Within seconds he was standing beside you, dragging you towards the front door. About an hour later, Luke had a barbell through his eyebrow, and you had a tongue piercing. While you sat in the chair, Luke had squeezed your hand, reassuring you that it wouldn’t be that bad. Tears welled in your eyes when the needle pierced your tongue. It felt foreign in your mouth, but you liked it. “God damn, that was so gross.” Luke said, squeezing his eyes tightly together. You laughed, feeling the ball click against your teeth. “What’s next a tattoo?” You asked, and he raised his eyebrow. “You up for it?” He asked, grabbing your hand. You laughed again, shaking your head. “Maybe tomorrow. My body’s gone through enough today.” You joked, making him smile. “I’m holding you to that.” He said, bumping your shoulder.

Michael: Michael couldn’t help but laugh as you slurred your words again. The ball in your tongue gave you a bit of a lisp, seeing as it was foreign to you. You pouted, shaking your head. “Stop!” You whined, but it came out more like “Thtap!” Which only made Michael laugh harder than he already was. “Its cute babe,” He said, grabbing your hand. You sheepishly raised your eyes to meet his, and you saw the crinkles in the corners, the smile playing on his lips. “It will go away soon,” He reassured. You toyed around with the ball in your mouth for the millionth time, ignoring the small amounts of pain from the fresh piercing. “Stop playing with it babe,” He chided, making you stop. “Its so odd,” You stated. “You’ll get used to it. I’m impressed that you didn’t run out of the shop screaming.” He added. “All the colour drained from your face when they brought out the needle. I definitely thought you would call that off.” He squeezed your hand. “You’re pretty brave,” He said. You smiled, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you looked down. “I was terrified, and pretty grossed out. But hey, buckle up and take it right?” You said, wincing as the ball hit your teeth, enduring a shot of pain. “Have a popsicle,” He said, handing you one that was on the table in front of you. You smiled, thanking him, as your next step was learning how to eat politely.

She's Just That Good

Prompt: When your boyfriend Dean needs your help distracting a demon, you put on your high heels and become the best liar you can be. 

Triggers: None

Word Count: 1,796

Authors Note: I wasn’t quite sure how to end this, so I apologize if the ending to this imagine isn’t quite the best.

By the way, if anybody ever wants to get my attention, want me to read their writing, etc. I track the tag #imaginesspn. Make sure to tag me, and I'l check my tag every once in awhile!

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Storm the World with Reckless Abandon

Snippet #12

Ichigo cracked his neck and resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the hostile glares he was receiving in the training room. This is getting fucking ridiculous.

He’s been in the training room barely for two days and already everyone hates him. Or at least, thinks he’s a fucking joke or something. He could tell from the sneers from the more buff kids – because that’s what they were, kids, and it still pisses the hell out of him how screwed up this world was for allowing this to happen – and the baffled expressions from the scrawny underdogs that they all thought he belonged in a mental institution. Not that he wasn’t used to those kind of looks.

To be honest, the main reasons why Ichigo was even in the training room in the first place was one, because Finnick looked ready to cry out of sheer frustration and practically begged him to go with all the anxiety and panic of a teenager making a love confession. It would’ve been hilarious if it hadn’t been so pathetic, so Ichigo just went along with it due to the guilt rollercoaster Finnick triggered. The instant sunny smile that erased the victor’s previously beseeching attitude though – the asshole had been damn whistling when he strolled away victorious – seriously made Ichigo consider whether or not the older man was bipolar.

Like Jesus Christ, the idiot’s been reverting back to creepy-Finnick the moment they entered the Capital, like the entire city was a minefield just waiting to explode in his face. All the more reason why Ichigo was being more cautious than usual. At least, for him anyway.

Second reason Ichigo ended up agreeing was because of Zangetsu. The old man made the convincing argument to scout out enemies and see what Ichigo would have to deal with later in the future.

The ‘enemies’, of course, being the sponsors and gamemakers.

According to Finnick, it was the crowd and the people behind the scenes who really controlled everything that was happening under Snow’s thumb. The information didn’t particularly surprise Ichigo and he all but dismissed everyone else as non-threats unless they proved otherwise.

The kids didn’t even register as possible threats in his mind. After all, it was his job to protect the innocent, and if that meant having to tie them all up and toss them in a corner to keep them safe, then so be it. Besides, if their skills were as bad as their trainers, Ichigo’s sure he’ll be fine.

So instead of ‘training’ (snort), he meditates. He sits his ass on the floor, shoots out laser glares that scare off people from disturbing him, then closes his eyes and concentrates.

Usually, he ends up training with Shiro since it’s been a while since he destroyed anything, much to Shiro’s whooping delight. Most of the times though, Zangetsu coaches him even more on how to identify the gamemakers reiatsu that pulses behind the walls of the training room, pretending they weren’t watching kids training to kill each other like creepy fuckheads. Just in case he would need to identify and threaten or maim some of them later.

Not that he was planning to but eh, you never know.

And finally, his third reason was to be underestimated.

He didn’t like it to be honest. He’s more of a ‘charge at the problem until its fixed’ kind of guy, but Zangetsu insisted, much to Shiro’s disappointment. Everyone was, quite literally, watching his every movement. Anything he does that might be suspicious would send off alarms and his great plan of getting everyone out alive would get even more irritatingly difficult.

All these stealth maneuvers were giving Ichigo a headache. Urahara would be so proud.

So for once, he wasn’t showing off. Wasn’t going on a temper rampage even though everybody was basically looking down on him. He’ll be the cool headed one for once. He’ll be patient, especially when twenty four kids’ lives were depending on him.

If only Rukia was here to novel at Ichigo’s usually abysmal self-control. But alas, she was back home, probably sharpening Sode no Shirayuki and muttering death threats under her breathe.

The very imagery was so like her that he couldn’t help but outwardly smirk. What a midget.

At the corner of his eye, two kids near the rope section shuddered at the primal look on his face.

From what he’s observed so far, less than half the kids looked decently prepared. Big blonde and little blonde who were definitely partners swaggered around like they were god’s gift, and while their skills may be impressive to the rest of the normal human population, Ichigo personally thought they had a long way to go. They reminded him way too much of the weaklings in District 11, the bullies who tormented the more meek District 4 members who didn’t grow a backbone like Hanataro.

It infuriated him to know that human nature was the same no matter where he went. The universal hierarchy where the strong survives and the weak dies has some merit, but is basically bullshit. If a person thinks they have no chance in winning, they die. Simple as that. The fact everyone encourages or fosters that sort of thinking made Ichigo want to rally against the world and crush anyone who says so.

Ichigo was pretty sure the blondes were District 2, if what Finnick said was right about them. The other ‘Careers’ or whatever they were called weren’t as bad thankfully, so maybe there was hope for them yet.

The rest, however, made Ichigo want to bang his head against one of the glass walls until he smashed it to pieces.

Most of them were all twitchy and skittish and fucking terrified as hell, as if already resigned to death. Some were way too fucking young, ranging from – he shits not – twelve. Twelve. And a thirteen year old too, which was apparently rare to have two incredibly young people playing at the same time. The oldest was his age actually, a stoic, serious guy from District 7 with impressive stature and height, exuding a level of grim calm that Ichigo could respect. Well, if the guy would stop glaring at him full of loathing that is.

Other than that guy and two other girls who seemed to be keeping a level head respectively in District 9 and District 11, everyone else was a nervous wreck. Brea, who was avoiding him like the plague, still had that lingering dread in her eyes that Ichigo disapproved of. While it’s understandable, fear has no place on the battlefield. He was tempted to maybe whack some sense into her, but decided against it. He’ll do it if desperate times calls for it. Other than that, she’ll have to learn on her own.

Ichigo checked the time again and internally sighed in relief when he saw it was times up. He did not enjoy being stared at for hours on end, thank you very much.

So without further or due, he got up and walked out of the room with a casual gate in his steps as if to spite the antagonistic glares he was receiving for his behavior.

Screw them. Whether they knew it or not, Ichigo was going to save them all.

Notes: Wow, it’s been a while since I’ve updated. Sorry for the long wait! I hope this explains Ichigo’s thinking process. He’s taking it seriously, though maybe not as seriously as everyone else. And hoooo boy, he’s going to get in trouble whether he means to or not, hehehe. Anyways, thank you so much for the support and the messages! I’m very happy people are enjoying this so much. Please reblog, message, or comment after you’re done and I hope you all have a Merry Christmas!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 13Part 14

Arrow Fic: Pack Light

A/N: Post Finale Road Trip Fluff! Special thanks to the anon who sent dust2dust34 the tip about the earrings and sammieathome who pointed out the limited storage space in a Porsche for their inspiration. Also tagging redpendreaming for the road trip fic drive!

Legal Disclaimer: I don’t even own my own chill after that finale.

Pack Light

AO3 / ff.net

It takes Felicity a good hour to convince Oliver to leave her bed the next morning, and another thirty minutes or so to actually get him out of her apartment. Not that she’s complaining about round four, five, up against her front door (because seriously, those arms?), but she knows that if they’re going to get on the road and down the coast before sunset, they need to get moving like, now. So she hustles him out the door, pausing for a long, wet goodbye kiss that she feels in her kneecaps long after he turns and runs down the stairs, and gets to packing.

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