couch leap

Rose Garden (Ruby X Oscar): Keeping Count

Note: Established relationship. Rated S for Steamy. Read at own risk.

At first glance one would assume Oscar Pine had no more than eight or nine freckles upon his face. But at a closer glance, one would notice that he had a multitude of smaller freckles aside from his bigger, prominent ones. Tiny flecks that faded into the depths of his tan pores. Ruby had on occasion glanced at the small sea of spots upon his cheeks, wondering and contemplating just how many of those tiny specks he possessed. Well today would be that day.

Oscar sat on the couch, flipping through the pages of a book he had slipped off the shelf and into his lap. The tiny bent glasses that once belonged to Beacon’s headmaster sat on the bridge of his nose, slipping down the slightest bit only to be pushed up again by Oscars index finger.

“In one fell swoop the artifact was clutched in Stone’s grasp, as he slid the jar on the pedestal. There was a moment of silence, leading the adventurer to assume the traps had not been set off yet until- “

The words on the page were suddenly lost as Oscar felt the weight of the couch cushions shift, and Ruby sat next to him. She looked up at him with a small smile, as the boy gently wrapped his arm around her shoulder, returning to his book.

“The ground shook as a large boulder emerged from the wall, staring down Stone and beginning its slow roll. Stone tipped his cap, turning on his heel and bolted down the hallway as it crumbled around hi- “

Another unexpected shift caused Oscar to lose his place as the ebony haired girl sat herself in his lap, facing him in a straddle. Ruby leaned against him, trapping the book between their stomachs momentarily before falling to the floor, and rested her forehead against his.

“Well hello there.” Oscar greeted, humored by Ruby’s sudden but not completely unwelcomed action. Pale fingers grabbed at the rim of Oscars glasses and set them aside, slowly lifting to glide over his cheek.

“One… two… three…four…five…”

“What are you doing?” Oscar asked, holding back a chuckle.

Ruby’s tracing finger pressed against Oscars lips, eyes unwavering from the flecks on his face.

“Counting.” She simply replied. The farm boy smiled, slowly picking up on her hints and letting her do what she willed. Her index finger pressed gently along his cheek as she mouthed the numbers she counted off in her head. Her gaze never met his, but that certainly didn’t stop Oscar from getting lost in her fixated gaze. After all, her silver eyes, while deadly were two of the most beautiful orbs he had ever gazed upon.

For a short moment, he found himself giving thanks for moments like this, moments that allowed such a calm closeness.

Suddenly Oscar was pulled from his trance as he felt the warmth of Ruby’s breath on his cheek bone. The numbers she had counted off in her head before now escaping her lips in barely audible breaths.


“Having fun?”

“Ssssssshhhhhhhh. Don’t make me lose count.”

Oscar chuckled, causing Ruby to squint just the slightest bit as she kept her eyes on a fleck at the center of his cheek. He smiled, a sudden thought creeping into his head.

“Soooooo how many have you counted so far?” He asked, quickly pecking her nose.  

“23.” She replied, silver eyes meeting his for a split second before returning to the crease between his nose and cheek.

“Mhmm.” He nuzzled her nose with his. “Have you made it past my noes yet?” His lips pressed against her forehead. Rather than a response to his inquiry, Ruby simply continued to count off, voice slightly raised in an attempt to get a point across.

“26, 27, 28, 29…” Oscar pecked her left cheek, quickly moving to her right when she showed no response. “30, 31, 32, 33,…”

“That many huh?” He kissed both her temples, causing an audible protest from the girl in his lap. She attempted to swivel from her mount, until the boy’s hands rested firmly on her waste, trapping her. “How many do I have now?”

“34!” She retorted, unable to keep her half laugh behind her teeth. “Now knock it off while I finish counting.”

“Knock what off?” He mocked before pecking her on the lips. “I don’t know” the cheek, “what you’re” the other cheek, “talking” the chin, “about” below the chin. As Ruby struggled to keep her line of slight straight, Oscar relished as he began trailing more small kisses down her neck. The girl in his lap squirmed and giggled as she tried with every fiber of her being to keep counting.

“39… 40… 41, 42- hey!” A bit of breath was sucked out of her as Ruby felt Oscar nip at her collar bone after fiddling with the fastenings on her hood, making it fall to the ground showing her exposed neck.  

“How many do I have now?” Oscar whispered into neck while nuzzling it.

“42, 43-“

“How many?” His grip on her tightened, pulling her closer allowing him to caress her jawline with his lips.

“44! 45! 46! 47- AH!” Ruby suddenly felt her body being torn down, bouncing against the couch cushion as Oscar trapped her under his hold, kissing her much more feverishly.

“Didn’t quiet catch that?” his voice was thick with mischief, and an almost uncharacteristic huskiness that Ruby couldn’t help but be slightly enthralled by.  Until she felt the hands at her waist brush and dance at her sides, causing her to erupt into howling laughter.

“Wanna repeat that for me?” Oscar snickered as he tickled Ruby mercilessly. Squirming under him she fought to find the numbers she had in her head but a moment prior, but lost them somewhere in the bubbling laughter and flurry of smooches.


That’s all he needed to hear. With a quick kiss on her forehead the feared tickle attack ceased, leaving a breathless and slightly flustered Ruby. Oscar couldn’t help but smile and admire his work, seeing such a beautiful girl in such a blissful state simply because of him, it brought his heart close to bursting. Ruby stared back, feeling a similar emotion.

Oscar lowered himself, cupping his hands on either side of Ruby’s face before kissing her. Her left hand clutched to the fabric of his shirt while the other ran through his soft hair, causing him to sigh contently into her mouth. Despite the feverish tussle from a moment ago, there was a different type of passion behind their kisses now. A much deeper, much more intimate one. Oscar felt Ruby’s tongue slip between lips, moans dribbling out by the corners of their mouths, lost in complete, and total pleasure.  

There was a loud knock at the door, and a sudden burst before either of the youths could respond. Stumbling in, filled flask in hand was Qrow, obviously drunk given his wobbly posture. He leaned against the door frame, mouth agape as if he was about to speak, then stopped upon realizing the situation his beloved niece was in. Both teens froze, caught like deer in the headlights, Oscar still very much laying on top of Ruby.

“Don’t… worry.” Qrow slurred, reaching behind his back fumbling for his sword. “I’ll be sure to shoot you first… before gutting you.”

Ruby looked up to Oscar with a look of pure horror. His hazel eyes darting between Ruby and Qrow.

He whispered a quick “Let’s finish this later” before pushing himself off the couch and daringly leaping out the window. Qrow followed in pursuit but ended up running into the wall next to the window instead before taking the long way around back down the hallway.

63. He had 63 freckles.


Me writing this. Like if you like, but reblogg if you want a sequel.

Caffeine Challenge #23

Great Challenge everyone! I can’t wait to read all of your stories :) You can find the prompt here (X) for anyone late to the challenge!

His heart is still beating when you decide you’ve spent enough time with his blood on your hands. Enough time trailing after him with broken apologies falling from your lips. Enough time presenting him with gifts like sacrifice so he’ll just smile one more time.

You stare out at the city, coffee hot in your cold hands and think, Enough. You put the mug down on the counter, shrug on your jacket and slide off the stool. You jostle your neighbor, but neither of you say anything to acknowledge the invasion of personal space. You’re both city dwellers and you know when to fight and when to just let it go.

You wish you’d remembered that a month ago.

You walk out onto Michigan Ave, tuck your hands into your pockets, and put your head down against the biting breeze coming off Lake Michigan. A bus comes by, stops, and rolls away without you.

You want to walk. You want to feel the rock salt crunch under your feet, the ice pull at your stability, the wind cut through your jeans. Then, maybe, you won’t have to think about how he’s been dead to you for months despite the fact that his heart is still beating.



Your hand tightens around your phone and you bring it in tight to your chest. You’re sitting on the couch, knees tucked to the side and feet bare. You make your fingers loosen before the edges of your phone case, scraped and dinged from months of hard use, pierce them.

He walks into the room, hair tousled and cheeks red from the wind outside. He’s wearing the long coat you got him last christmas, the one that actually goes down far enough to keep him from freezing his ass off. His blue eyes are bright, but not with the joy of seeing you. Oh no.

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littleredreadinghood  asked:

Distraction prompts! How does Slink feel about Harris's roomba entourage?

“I’m going to need you to not taunt the roomba.”

Slink stared at Harris, the tip of his tail swishing back and forth.  Harris pointed at the poor roomba, which was in the process of circling his feet for about the sixth time in the past five minutes.  “I get it, I do, buddy, it’s annoying as all hell.  But you’re giving the poor thing a complex.”

Slink yawned.

“Right.  Cat don’t care,” Harris said.  “Cat absolutely do not care.”  He looked down at the roomba, who was creeping up the side of his ankle.  “No!  Bad robot!  No!”

The roomba, which listened to him about as much as Slink did, just kept trying to mount his leg.  Harris took a step back, scooting out of reach.  “Look, you got all the cat hair, it’s fine, there is nothing-”

Slink stood, stretching with a languid, unhurried grace.  Then he padded across the back of the couch, leaping onto Harris’ shoulder.  “Don’t you dare,” Harris told him, and Slink rubbed against the side of his head, purring.

The roomba, aware of a fresh crop of cat hair settling onto every surface in a six foot radius, went nuts, trying its best to climb Harris’ pants.  

“Right,” Harris said.  Resigned, he scratched Slink behind the ear.  “Guess I should be grateful you’re not teaming up.  Because that?  Would probably be worse.”

yoongi scenario | puppy loving

♡ cuddling wouldn’t be complete without Min Holly, Yoongi’s dog, getting in your way  

genre: fluff
word count: 1.6k

[Min Holly’s perspective]

Ding dong. I spring up. I know what that sound means. Y/N’s back!

Yoongi and I have the same reaction. I scramble out of bed, he scrambles behind me, and together we careen down the hall, my paws clicking on the wood, his sock soles sliding on the floor. I’ve never seen him this excited before.

Quickly, open the door, open the door! I leap up at the handle. I bark a few times. Quickly!

“Alright, alright, Holly,” he fumbles for his keys on the hook, and then, gently pushing me aside with one foot, he goes to the door. And there you are! I dash around your legs, barking at you to let you know I missed you. Your face crinkles into a smile when you see us. “There’s my two favourite boys.” With one hand you lift me up, your other hand pulling Yoongi in for a hug. I wriggle about in your arms, trying to lick both of your faces at once. You’ve been gone so so long. Where were you? What took you away?

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anonymous asked:

How about "the piñata incident"?

(Someone finally asked!! *Rubs hands together* Alrighty, cutie pies. Strap yourselves in!)

They’d never had a birthday party before. Somehow in the crazy mess of taking over the channel and just trying not to fade, birthday parties just got lost in the fray. But that time is over, and Wilford demands that the others throw him a “surprise” party. It goes a little something like this:

“SURPRISE!” He wasn’t really surprised of course. He’d left Bim a very detailed list over everything he wanted it, just as he wanted it. But Wilford Warfstache is nothing if not a good actor, and his feigned surprise is more amusing than convincing.

“Guys! You didn’t have to do all this!” He looks around at them with a wide smile on his face, and Bim bites back the urge to say that, yes, they did have to do this or Wilford would likely start shooting everything. But all that aside, the party went off without a hitch. The Host provided the cake, the Googles made a montage of all the times Wilford did something even mildly funny on his TV show, and they even managed to get Dark into a party hat.

Everything was perfect.

Until the piñata.

Now, since the Egos are technically only a few years old, they’d never encountered one of these “ piñatas” before, so they didn’t think anything of it. Doc read online that you stuff them with candy and then break them open. Sounded like something Wilford would enjoy, right? Very right. Too right. Oh goodness gracious they had absolutely no idea what they were in for.

Host provides one of his blindfolds and backs away from the Bubblegum Birthday Boy before he starts swinging. The piñata goes down in a single swing, one fail swoop of the bat, and the little cardboard animal is decimated. Then Wilford goes after whoever is closest.

Google hides under the refreshments table, and Silver somehow manages to get under the couch cushions. Bim Trimmer leaps onto Wilford’s back and tries to stop him, but gets thrown off quickly. It isn’t until Wilford goes after Dark that anyone realizes that this could be the end, right here and right now.

Until Dark catches the bat in mid-swing, wrenches it from Wilford’s hand and delivers a swift blow to the Ego’s gut. Wilford drops, and they are all sure Dark is about to finish the job when he walks over to the piñata, grabs up a handful of candy, hands the bat to Host, and walks out with nothing more than a, “Happy birthday.”

Wilford giggles from the floor, blindfold askew on his face. “That was fun… Can we do it again?”

MCU Drabbles & Mini Fics

Because I’ve been writing a lot of mini fics on Tumblr, I felt it best to make a list of them, or at least attempt to. Ideally, there will be more added over time, but for now, here is what I have:


Too Much Underwear

Slipping Under the Sheets

Making Out and Waiting

Star Wars & Bribery 

Violation - (MPreg & Violation of Body Autonomy)

Mini Van Driver

Teeth Brushing Woes  

Things You Said When You Were Lost to Us   

Things You Said When You Thought I Was Asleep   

Are You Rationed?  

Naughty Doughnuts   - Crack adjacent, improper use of doughnuts, ridiculousness

You Can’t Say That On Television!  

Stop Ruining the Surprise!  

When Super Soldiers Argue   -Starts out headcanon then becomes mini fic

Bluebeard AU    

Super Powered Boots  

Clingy Boyfriends   


Something Familiar This Way Comes: 1, 2    


Things You Said When You Thought I Was Asleep  

Marry Me (Headcanon)

Dangerous Closet    

Sick Days   

Stay With Me  

Ghengis Khan   (Not So Happy Ending)

Kissing Partners 

Promise of the Rose  (Multiple Parts-Links provided)


Things You Said When You Were Dying  

The White Knight at the Bar   

Engaged…In Combat (Or Just Engaged?)! 

I’m an Engineer not a Doctor 

Once Upon a Time In a Shattered Mind (Posted on IT&B Blog)

Winter’s Child   (Posted on IT&B Blog)

Preventative Tripping Embrace  

Inked Flowers   (Posted on IT&B Blog)

Awkward First Times  (Posted on IT&B Blog)  NSFW

A Shower and A Whimper   

Not Jealous and Not Pouting  

Cream Puffs and Wrenches 

Couples Yoga   

Sex on the Beach (NSFW)

Civil War + Soul Mate/Soul Enemy Story Idea  

Arm Wrestling 

Musical Guilty Pleasures

A Fateful Rainy Day

The Mini Golf Set Up  

Abducted on Fae Mountain   

Let Me Help

Dance Spy   

Movie Soul Mates  

Serenade (Avengers Academy)  

Afterglow: 1, 2  


Armor and Lace    


Mermaid AU (Multiple Parts -Links provided)

Hellhound + Warlock AU  

The Couple That Gets De-Aged Together Stays Together

It’s the Flavor that Matters  

Realization Hits  (Daemon AU)


Apple of Idunn 

  • Sequel (s): One,

Blind Date at the Bar   

  • Sequel (s): One,

Arranged Marriage   (Not happy or fluffy)

No Remorse 


Catch Me!   

Shoot to Date 

Wrong Target   

Cooking Disaster    

Truth Serum Angst   

A Stranger at the Window  

Sugar Daddies   


Thunderstorm Visits  

Beach Buns  

He’s the one Named Sailor Moon   

Heavenly Meetings 

Amusement Park Fun 

Roses and Dating  

Passive Aggressive Flowers  

A Fine Balance  


A Damn Near Perfect Space Family 

Tony Stark is the Alyssa Milano  

Fooled Around  

Marriage Before Mating  

Dance of the Dorks  

Pillow Shirt  

CapHawk / ShieldHawk

Call Me, Captain Sexy   


Double Date Night    - Mentions of Stony


In the Spider’s Web    

Pushed Too Far  

Bathroom Break 

Hospital Coffee   

Party Observations 


Star Marriage Wars     - Mostly Crack

Bucky & Sam vs. Doom  


Forever Wait   


When Did This Happen?  -Crack adjacent

Captain Pepper


Dance with Me 



Messy Arrangement  




Bundle Up 

The Smol Filling in the Big Sandwich  

Death is but an Illusion  


Happy Birthday, Agent   


Fire and Mantle 


Burger Dates            


Shoot Out   


Rather be Dead than Naked


Painting Nails


The Midgardian Queen  


Synced  (A/B/O AU) + NSFW

Flying Leap    

This Couch was Not Made for Four (But We Make it Work)  

Getting Together  (Headcanon)

Mamma Mia AU (Super detailed Headcanon)

The Ultimate Mother Hen   

Pink Parachutes of Love     

Cuddle Positive    Ace!Tony

Turnabout Reckless  

Cursed Date  

Who is Fake Engaged to Who Again?  

The Race to Gift  

Water Wars   

Photo Booth   

Sharing a Room with Your Exes  

Dog Pile    

Supernatural Lunch Date   

The Center is not Always the Best    


Purple Nail Polish and Romantic Comedies   

Iron Husbands

Surprise Visit     

Home Economics 


Goodbye Hug   


Death by Heels not Allowed   

Spy Boxes and Rip Offs  


Protective Best Friends   


Another Phrase for “I Love You”    

Kiss Away the Scars  

Waffles and Pancakes!    

Peter Parker/Deadpool: No Heroes Here  


Mr. & Mr. Assassin 

Tackle in Aisle Three    



I Believe in You

Panther of Roses 

Destiny’s Child    


Heavy Lifting 




Flirting  (DC crossover)


Sick Days

Target Practice  

Rescue and Comfort  

Love Evolution  

FalconHawk / Bird Boyfriends

Covert Missions and Jealousy




Capture the Tony  


Healthy Living 


No Shame to His Game  (Avengers Academy)  

Magical Science Boyfriends/IronStrange

True Love’s Purrfect Kiss  (Avengers Academy)

Flip Flopping (Avengers Academy)

An Alternative to “Bite Me”


Squabbling Siblings


Reimagining of AOU

Tony, Bots, and Bucky

The BFFs of Blonds Club (BuckyNatTony Brot3)

Combat Training and Lunch Dates   (Nat and Tony Brotp)

Grease It Up

Disney World: Not the Happiest Place on Earth   

This isn’t Dirty Dancing   

Bucky’s Capture   

Team Iron Man Has Their Own Language    

This Is Love: Part Two

Summary: Being Bucky’s PA wasn’t easy and you respond to his grumpy attitude with your own. The two of you have never gotten on, forced to stay working with him because your Uncle Tony insists you have a job.

Word Count: 2100

Warnings: swearing, broken bones, Steve being a gossipy bitch  

A/N: this is terrible. I have had the worst writer’s block and just want to get it up so I can move on with the story.

Part One

Waking up the next morning you were exhausted. Thanks to Bucky you had gotten very little sleep but, preparing yourself for the day you said to yourself that you wouldn’t let the lack of sleep affect your mood. Bounding up to the door of the common area in a vividly coloured playsuit you stop when you hear Steve talking to what you assume are members of the team just back from the mission and are about to turn away for fear of interrupting when you hear what Steve is saying and it definitely doesn’t sound mission related.

‘And then she just took him by the hand and fixed it all up. They didn’t even yell at each other! And you should’ve seen how Bucky was looking at her it was like he was madly in love with her’ the rest of the team are oohing and ahhing and you’re sure you hear Sam say how cute it was. Shit, you think, you wanted to forget about last night and the whole you called Bucky Bucky thing which thank the lord Steve wasn’t around to hear. You burst in, a deep set frown on your face and growl when you see the entire team, bar Bucky, assembled around Steve listening to the story. You’re all prepared to start one of your famous screaming matches with Steve when a loud roar sounds from somewhere upstairs. Sam starts laughing and everyone else looks at each other, all confused and slightly concerned.

‘I got him a little present’ gasps Sam, wiping tears from his eyes. You all groan in unison. ‘No, no, no, it’s a nice present. I got him a service dog. You know to help him recover’. He looks around and you’re the first to break the silence.

‘Ok what breed? Boy or girl? Oh my god have you named it? What’s its name?’ You fire questions at Sam, excitement bubbling up inside of you.

‘He’s an Australian Shepherd puppy. No I haven’t named him I thought Bucky could, you know to help him feel closer to it’ Sam replies, not phased by your interrogation. At this Bucky bursts in, his nostrils flared and his chest heaving as he holds the struggling puppy by the scruff of its neck. Your first thought is how beautiful it is, its grey brown fur shining and crystal blue eyes looking around at its new surroundings. Your second is how uncomfortable the poor animal looks so you rush over to a furious looking Bucky and take it in your own arms and cradling it until it calms down.

‘You don’t hold a puppy like that, idiot man’ you yell slapping Bucky’s arm, to which a new flame of anger ignites in his eyes.

‘What is this? Some kind of practical joke? What did you think, it was gonna jump out and rip my face off?’ he screams back. You half turn your back to him to shield the puppy from him.  

‘Well with a bit of training there might be hope yet’ you retort turning your attention to the puppy. You hear Steve mutter ‘well that was short lived’ but you ignore him, kissing the puppy on his head and rubbing its ears while you praise it repeatedly.

‘Actually Bucky I got you it. He’s your service dog. Although not anymore probably’ Sam explains looking over at you and the puppy settled into one of the couches as it leaps around you wagging its tail and making your sing song laugh echo through the common area. Your captivation with it means you miss the remorseful look in Bucky’s eyes as he watches you, almost envious of the dog and its ability to capture your heart in mere seconds when you could hardly stand to be in his company for that long.

You play with the puppy almost all day until Sam walks through and sighs. ‘What?’ you inquire looking briefly away from the dog.

‘Its Bucky’s service dog (Y/N). Bucky’s. Not yours’.

‘Urgh you’re such a spoilsport. He’ll never love him the way I do’ you announce dramatically before scooping him up to take him to Bucky.

‘He’ll be in the gym’ Sam shouts after you and you respond by sticking a thumb up to him.

The gym was a place you tried to avoid. No only was it a place purely dedicated to exercise, which in itself makes it the equivalent to your hell on Earth, but it was the place superheroes and spies trained. It was the intense gym in the world and therefore your least favourite place in the world. You push the doors open and are hit by the smell of sweat and the sound of two men grunting. This was very foreign to you, the only other time you entered this room was on your very first day on your guided tour. When you round the corner, still clutching the dog to your chest you see Bucky and Steve sparring on a mat and your eyes widen to take in more of the glorious image in front of you. They look like two perfectly sculpted gods, breathing heavily with exertion as they engage in hand to hand combat. Hot damn. You even blush when you focus on Bucky, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, sweat sticking loose strands of hair to his forehead and the waistband of his sweatpants falling lower and lower. Ok you had to stop. This was Bucky we’re talking about, your arch enemy, you couldn’t think like this. You clear your throat and the two men stop fighting and turn to stare at you as you stride over to them, coming to a stop in front of Bucky. ‘Sam says I’ve got to give him to you’ you sigh regretfully, already missing the animal. ‘What’re you gonna call him?’ you ask out of curiosity. He shrugs.

‘Nothing probably’ he growls.

‘Nothing’s not a very good name for a dog’ you joke, smiling when you hear Steve crack up next to him. ‘Why the hell aren’t you gonna name him?’ you say seriously now, defending your new best friends honour. ‘He needs a name’.

‘I don’t care call him whatever’. You bite your lip to stop yourself making another joke about how whatever’s an even worse name.

‘How can you not care?’

‘How can you care?’ he counters cocking an eyebrow at you. Your mouth falls open in shock.

‘Look at him’ you say holding the puppy up. ‘He’s gorgeous and lovely and happy. Look at his beautiful fur and his fuzzy ears’ at this you pause to kiss each one. ‘His little tail. He’s so innocent and happy to see everyone how can you not love him? And his eyes so beautiful and blue, like steel’, you finish by nuzzling your nose into the soft coat and then looking up at Bucky. He has the same look in his eyes that he did last night. That look of awe, like you’re the only person in the room. And it’s not aimed at the dog. You swallow and look to Steve who’s grinning knowingly at Bucky. ‘And he’s yours’ you say holding him out for Bucky to take.

‘I’ve got another half an hour of training, can’t you look after it till then?’ he asks, surprisingly without stringing an insult along with it. You sigh and pull the dog closer to your chest.

‘Of course I’ll look after him because he’s adorable and perfection’ you say, cuddling him as you turn to Steve, who’s stepped aside to get a drink, to say bye. ‘You know if I’d known I’d get a view like this I would come to the gym more often’ you comment, looking Steve up and down causing him to choke on his water. At this Bucky physically snarls and your eyes flit to him, slightly shocked at the animalistic sound that just erupted from his chest.

‘Just go’ he murmurs in a low voice. You turn on your heels, not questioning the order but wondering what the hell’s gotten into him.

‘See ya James’ you yell as you leave.

You take the puppy to your room and when you place him on your bed he immediately starts rolling around and digging up your duvet and you laugh when you join in his little game. After about 20 minutes the dog curls up and falls asleep, exhausted after a long day of new sights and smells. Not having the heart to move him you sit next to your bed, your back to the door and rest your head on the duvet to watch him sleep. You smile as you take in his little tongue sticking out a bit, his tiny eyes scrunched up and his paws twitching slightly as he dreamt. Your hands are carded through his coat and are massaging his skin with a feather-light pressure. You’re so invested in watching the puppy sleep that you don’t hear the door open and close almost silently or Bucky entering having left training earlier than planned so he could shower before he saw you again. He stands in the doorway for some time watching you sat on the floor and wondering why you would give up your entire bed for some puppy that didn’t belong to you. You only turn when he clears his throat quietly to attract your attention and you look up at him smiling, the joy of playing with the puppy still present.

‘Hey’ you whisper, indicating to the sleeping animal.

‘Hey’ he echoes, walking around to the other side of your bed and mirroring your seated position. ‘I’ve decided what I’m gonna name him’ he whispers, pausing and looking up at you to gauge your reaction. ‘Steel’.

‘I love it’ you say. ‘It suits him’.

Already missing Steel you go to find Bucky, knowing that with one you’ll find the other and you begin to contemplate why Bucky has gone from hating the animal to loving it to bits in a matter of hours. Stopping in front of Bucky’s door, you raise a hand to knock but pause when you only hear Sam and Steve talking inside. Curious as to why they’re in Bucky’s room without Bucky, you press your ear to the door and still your breathing.

‘You don’t think he’s being like this because of the dog do you?’ you hear Sam question.

‘Maybe’ Steve replies doubtfully. ‘Or maybe his feelings for her are just getting too strong and he can’t hide them anymore’ he puts forward his idea to be met by Sam’s silence. ‘I wish he’d stop standing in the way of his own happiness and tell her how he damn feels’ Steve says, raising his voice a little in agitation. You frown, trying to figure out who this mystery girl was that Bucky, you assumed they were talking about Bucky, liked so much. You yelp in fright as something taps you on the shoulder and spin around, instinctively pushing our palm up into the assailant’s nose, hearing it crunch as it breaks.

‘Shit, (Y/N), what the hell?’ Bucky’s voice sobers you from your shock and your eyes widen. You ignore Steel who’s wagging his tail and jumping up your leg and focus on Bucky.

‘Ohmygod’ you gasp, ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t know who you were oh shit please don’t get me fired. I just assaulted my boss god what’s wrong with me’. Your panicked rambling in cut short when Bucky, holding a metal finger up to silence you and two flesh ones to pinch the bridge of his nose, tells you to shut up.

‘Hey calm down, I get it it was an accident’ he says, trying to smile.

‘What that’s it?’ you ask in sheer disbelief.

‘Yeah I’m a super soldier, I heal fast. Don’t worry about it’.

‘No’ you say bluntly.


‘No’ you repeat. ‘You’re supposed to yell at me. Come on call me a bitch, tell me I’ll lose my job, threaten to hit me back twice as hard, come on!’ you yell.

‘I’m not gonna hit you (Y/N) don’t be ridiculous’ he says. ‘Now can you look after Steel for me while I go get this sorted?’ he asks, gesturing to his nose. You nod wordlessly, picking up the dog as you watch him walk away. For once you’re speechless, absolutely stunned to silence. You go back to your room and sit on your bed as if waiting to awake from a dream or be transported back from a weird parallel dimension. What is happening and where is asshole Bucky?

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Tea Party For 9

Pairing: The Men of The Avengers x Steve Rogers Daughter Sarah Rogers

Warning: This is ridiculous and well I think I’m funny sorry if you don’t. Haha

When Sarah wants a tea party, she manages to get her way with Uncle Tony’s help. She doesn’t hear the word no when it comes to her uncles, not a single one is willing to tell her no, even if that means being forced into Dress Up attire and using their manners. As long as it stays between the nine of them only.

@chrisevansthedoritobastard @holahellohialoha  
@almightyunnie @imamotherfuckingstar-lord  
@iwillbeinmynest @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked
@goodnightwife @irepeldirt
@yourtropegirl  @bellejeunefillesansmerci 
@buckyb-avengers  @winterboobaer
@mrhowardstark @rileyloves5
@ria132love  @samanthaneedsanap
@theonlyparadox   @seargantbcky
@the-witching-hours12-3   @callamint 
@cryokinetic-cobain  @agentsinstorybrooke 

“Are you sure about this?” You sigh leaning against the wall as you watch your daughter run from her uncle Clint who was chasing her down for of course stealing one of his French fries, her little legs going as quick as they could.

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Jim looked between the four monsters slowly. “…There are more of you.”

“Hi, Jim!” Steve said cheerfully. “Haven’t seen you in a while!”

“I was deployed,” Jim replied. “I like your sarong.” He looked pained. “Jesus Christ.”

Steve proudly tugged at his green sarong with yellow starbursts. “But you can’t be mad because I’m wearing clothes!”

“…Could have chosen something darker,” Jim said, then turned to the hulking feathered creature sitting on the back of the couch, taloned feet clutching into the fabric, then at the spidery woman standing on the ceiling. “…The hell,” he muttered, then sighed loudly and began fiddling with his cuff links.

Bucky came up beside him, claws tapping on the floor. “You’re all dressed up.”

“Yeah,” Jim replied dryly, batting him away when he started to sniff at him. “Stop it, you weirdo.”

Bucky held his hands up and trotted over to the couch, instead leaping on the feathered figure and tackling it backward onto the cushions. It’s startled shriek gave him goosebumps.

Jim stood up a little straighter when he saw the brunet coming down the stairs. He was dragging his feet a little, and his shoulders were slumped. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Tony said quietly.

“Where you guys going?” Steve asked, tilting his head.

Jim made a long annoyed sound and wrapped an arm around the younger man’s shoulders. “Funeral.”

“Oh.” Bucky sat up, a feather sticking out from between his sharp teeth. “Whose?”

“Are you for real?” Jim asked angrily, then ushered Tony out of the mansion.

The monsters watched them go, frowning.

“…It’s not like we know everyone that they do,” Steve mumbled, crossing his arms.

Natasha made a thoughtful noise and began walking toward the stairs. Well, the ceiling above the stairs.

“You didn’t tell us it was your parents,” Bucky said, hurt.

Clint ruffled his feathers in agitation. “We thought they were just on another trip!”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” Tony said shortly, brushing past them. He felt Steve’s tail start to wrap around his legs and reached down to smack it away. “I want to be alone.”

Jim watched him go, frowning, as he hung up his suit jacket in the closet. “He didn’t tell you?”

Natasha turned from having watched Tony leave as well. “Admittedly, we react to death quite differently from humans.”

“Still, he should have told you,” Jim sighed. “You would have asked where his parents were eventually.”

“Not really,” Bucky admitted. “We only see them every once in a while, and we usually avoid them anyway.”

“You guys are literally the worst,” Jim breathed, in awe of how terrible that was and why that, perhaps, was why Tony hadn’t told them.

Tony didn’t turn from staring at the wall, clutching his pillow to his chest. “I said I wanted to be alone.”

Natasha tilted her head, acknowledging, before dropping from the ceiling and flipping to land on her feet on the floor. “That was an hour ago.”

“Well, I still wanna be alone! So get out!”

She ignored him, as she usually did, and instead began muscling him out of his suit jacket. “You’ve wrinkled it.”

“Natasha, what the f–Get off me!” Tony exclaimed angrily, trying to fight her off, but she had four arms and Tony only had two, and she was already stronger than him by virtue of what she was.

Natasha peeled his dress shirt off as well. “Take off your pants.”

Tony blinked up at her, then leered. “Pity sex?”

“I will wrap you up in silk and hang you from a tree,” she threatened, turning to walk toward his dresser.

Tony threw his hands up, letting out an angry gust of breath.

Natasha returned with a pair of MIT sweatpants and a band t-shirt. “You should be comfortable while you mourn.”

“That’s the thing, Natasha,” Tony spat. “Mourning is just kind of inherently uncomfortable.” Still, when she held the shirt up threateningly, he snatched it from her and put it on, because who knew you could threaten someone with a shirt?

Seeing that he wasn’t making any move to take his slacks off, she sighed, irritated, and reached out to pull them off of him. “I’m not going to pretend I understand,” she told him, tugging them off. “You know we won’t,” she added. “Which is probably why you didn’t tell us. You’ve wrinkled your pants, too.” She held them up, scowling. “…But I will miss your mother playing the piano.”

Tony froze, sweatpants halfway up his legs.

“And I will miss Howard, for the times he was sober and kind to you,” Natasha continued. “And I will be sorry that your parents have ceased to exist in your life. But you are not alone. We don’t always… understand in ways you would like us to.” She frowned, folding the slacks up. “But we will be here, when you need us.”

Tony tightened his grip on the waistband of his sweatpants, knuckles turning white. His eyes filled with hot tears, and he bit his bottom lip to try to keep them from falling as he hurriedly pulled his pants the rest of the way up.

Natasha tilted her head as she looked at him. “Perhaps, I will learn what true mourning is when you pass. You are my dearest.”

Tony choked and lifted his hand to cover his mouth, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Natasha frowned at him and pulled the boy into her arms, wrapping all four of them around him tightly. “I do not understand, but I will support you as you mourn. And so will everyone else.”

Tony turned his head to hide his face in her neck, trying to muffle his sobs.

bri206  asked:

"Felicity, can you help me with my Homework?"


“Felicity can you help me with my homework?”

Felicity isn’t sure who’s head whips around the fastest: hers or Oliver’s. William had been pretty quiet all evening. In fact, he hadn’t said a word since Raisa dropped him off after school. And she was starting to worry he was mad or something.

“I could help you buddy,” Oliver said, almost took eagerly. He had leaned forward on the couch, ready to leap off in a second. 

“Um, it’s actually more Felicity’s area of expertise,” William replied, chewing on his lower lip. “You know math and stuff like that. If it was history I’d ask you.”

“Of course I’ll help you,” she said standing from the couch, and then shot Oliver a pointed look. “Do not start the next episode without me.”

“You spent 30% of the last one behind my back,” he countered. 

“Doesn’t mean I am not emotionally invested in the story.”

He rolled his eyes, but tossed the remote beside him. “I’ll make popcorn while I wait.”

“You always know the way to my heart.”

Once she made it to William’s room her stepson grabbed her hand, and pulled her inside, shutting the door completely behind him.

“Is the TV bugging you kid?”


“Okay so is math just easier with the door closed?”

“I actually had a question.”

“Okay, well lay it on me?”

“How do you ask a girl out?”

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maravding  asked:

i've just found your hdm au and it's everything i didn't know i wanted. write more? pretty please?

Matt’s mistake is looking – Andrew doesn’t pause before hitting him. It shouldn’t be possible, but the blow knocks Matt to the floor. Then there’s a shriek as Amaranth bounds through the door and bowls Piper over, coming out on top with Piper’s throat cradled in her jaws.

Dan and Lorimer move fast, but Neil and Sin are faster. He inserts his body between Andrew and Matt, using his weight to press Andrew back. He expects resistance, but Andrew goes with him, gaze flickering flatly to Neil’s face and away. On the floor, Sin is whispering to Amaranth. After a moment she loosens her grip on Piper’s neck, but she doesn’t shift her weight.

“Enough,” Neil says. “Matt didn’t do anything.”

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noxumbre  asked:

widowtraclily where Talon tried to have Emily assassinated and the idea of that broke Amélie's mind control so she rebelled and killed the Talon agents on that mission and told Lena about it so three end up living together

Pt 1 (Request more if you want more)

I changed a few things so I could use them for later 

[Widowmaker naps through a particularly long Talon meeting]

Doomfist - And that’s when I punch Tracer’s girlfriend Emily in the face [lifts doomfist into the air] at full power, and leave her body there for Tracer to find

Widowmaker- [head falls against the table with a considerable knock]

Doomfist - Amelie……

[Widowmaker slowly lifts her head, her eyes growing ever wider]

Widowmaker-  [stands up] Excuse me……[pushes chair in]

Doomfist - Where are you going ?

Widowmaker - [same icy tone as usual] I’m off to warn Lena and her adorable girlfriend

Doomfist and Reaper - ……..

Sombra- [big old grin]

Widowmaker - [walks to door without a backwards glance] Au Revoir

[Door shuts]

Doomfist - ….is she serious ?

[Sombra bursts out laughing]

Reaper - I don’t know….it’s hard to read her now that we’ve taken away all of her emotions

Sombra- [laughs harder]

Reaper - SOMBRA !

Sombra- [stops laughing] You’re taking this very seriously…….

[Sombra disappears]

-Sometime later- 

-Tracer’s apartment-

[Tracer and Emily sit in their living room watching an ancient TV show called “Three’s company”]

Tracer - [throws arms out towards TV] This is what people liked back then ?!

[Someone knocks on the door]

Emily- Don’t worry Lena [stands up] I’ve got it

[Emily walks to the door and opens it]

Emily - Hell….

[Widowmaker punches Emily in the face and knocks her out. quickly walking inside and slipping Emily over her shoulder ]

Tracer - Widowmaker ! [jumps off couch and leaps at Widowmaker to saver her girlfriend]

Widowmaker- I don’t have time for this……

[Widowmaker takes a steps back and intercepts Tracer with a punch]

[Tracer falls unconscious and is quickly placed on Widowmakers other shoulder]

[Widowmaker shuffles out of the apartment, and places Tracer and Emily in the trunk of her car]

-A few hours later, in the dead of night-

-Sombra’s room-

[Sombra’s phone rings]

[Sombra tosses her teddy bear at the phone, but misses]

Sombra- [groggy]  Hijo de puta….[answers call] Hello ?

Widowmaker - [on phone] [awkward sounding] Hello Sombra……

Sombra- [fully awake] Oh it’s you ! [plops down on bed] You have to tell me what you did ! [reclines] Everyone’s looking for you

Widowmaker - [on phone] I……….kidnapped the idiot and her girlfriend

Sombra- Que ?

Widowmaker- [on phone] I couldn’t let them kill them Sombra……I don’t know why…..

Sombra-  QUE ?!

[Sombra hears a sudden racket on the phone, followed by the sounds of someone speaking french very angrily, while sounding very British)

Widowmaker - [on phone] The idiot’s awake…….she’s using the most vulgar language…….

Sombra- [eyes widen]

Widowmaker - [on phone] I think I’m what most people would call……scared

[The phone hangs up]

Sombra- [jumps out of bed, quickly pulling on her usual outfit as she runs out the door] [swearing up a storm]

Writing Requests are OPEN

jim and jane’s day out

the snow ball’s coming up, which means el needs an outfit.
read on ao3

“Hey, kid!” Hopper says, grinning as he walks through the door. “I’ve got good news!”

El, sitting on the floor in front of the couch studying a large atlas, looks up expectantly.

“You can go to the Snow Ball,” he tells her, his eyes sparkling, already predicting her happiness.

Her mouth opens slightly and her eyes widen. “Really?”

He nods with a grin. “Really.”

And before he can blink she is scrambling up over the couch and leaping into his arms. He catches her and hugs her tightly, laughing at her reaction.

“And look at this,” he says after a moment, and El leans out, as Hopper reaches into his pocket and pulls out a slip of paper, passing it to her.

“Jane Hopper,” she reads slowly, and her breath catches in her throat. She looks up at Hopper, her eyes wide again. “Does this mean… Does this mean you’re my dad?”

He gulps. “Yeah, if you want.”

She smiles ever so slightly and nods. “Dad.”

“Jane,” he says to her, and she hugs him again, wrapping her arms around him, and he’s glad she can’t see the tears in his eyes.

“Okay,” he clears his throat loudly, and puts her down, “I’m guessing we need to buy you a dress or something, you can’t go to a dance in overalls or one of my shirts,”

“Does that mean we get to go shopping?” she asks, smiling.

“How do you know about shopping?”

She shrugs. “Saw it on TV.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, it does, but we’ll go to the next town over so no one recognises me, or you for that matter.”

She beams up at him, and he ruffles her hair affectionately.

He takes her dress shopping the next day, deciding to drive a couple of towns over just to be extra careful no one gets suspicious; they end up in a town called Pawnee, which is just over an hour away from Hawkins.

Hopper hasn’t been to a mall since… he can’t remember when, and he already wants to get the hell out of there the second they step foot in the damn place, but El is immediately enthralled, her eyes wide as she looks everywhere.

It reminds her of Chicago, all big and busy, full of people.

“So this is a mall?” she asks Hopper as they walk along, holding hands.


“M-A-L-L, mall, rhymes with ‘wall’.”

Hopper laughs. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

They reach an escalator, and El looks at it with alarm. “Is it supposed to move?” she whispers up at Hopper.

“Yeah, it’s fine, kid, c’mon,”

El steps gingerly onto the escalator, her eyes widening as the step rises up, clutching tight onto Hopper’s hand and the banister. She begins to laugh half way up and a couple of people stare but Hopper can’t bring himself to tell her to be quiet, he hasn’t seen her laugh so hard before.

“That was so much fun,” El says once they reach the top.

“Yeah, you think?”

El nods her head vigorously, and naturally they spend the next twenty minutes going up and down the escalators. Hopper wonders what will happen when El eventually finds out about roller coasters.

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  • He’s just so cute and cuddly gahhhhh
  • He’d be the type of person where you’d just want to be around him all the time
  • He’d always try to be so happy and positive others and you’d admire him so much for it
  • But what you’d love most about him is when he’d be himself around you
  • He’d be able to relax and just completely be honest about whether he was frustrated or upset- he’d be able to go to you without hesitation.
  • His favourite part of the day would be coming home from practice and seeing you laid on the couch asleep because you tried to stay up for him
  • he’d see you laying there and he’d just look at you with such love and adoration and it would be those moments where he’d know for sure that he loved you more than anyone or anything else in this world
  • that got cheesy very quickly
  • he’d carefully pick you up and carry you bridal-style into your room and he’d gently lay you under the covers
  • then he’d crawl into the covers beside you after getting changed and he’d kiss your forehead, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you towards him and just falling asleep next to you.
  • He’d be determined to prove to you that he wasn’t cute and that he is in fact one of the sexiest members in Pentagon
  • you’d be like “yeah yeah sure whatever you say”, absolutely convinced that he is the cutest cinnamon roll
  • but he’d do his best to prove you wrong and i mean he’ll try his BEST if you catch ma drift.
  • He’d be a huge fan of your hands
  • he’d just love them so much and you’d never know why
  • but he’d always hold them, kiss them or fiddle with your fingers and you’d love it tbh
  • It always meant that he’d be near you in some way and both of you would find it incredibly comforting.
  • He’s incredibly aggressive tho
  • like he’s feisty af 
  • imagine like a tickle fight and it would just start to get out of hand too quickly 
  • like he’d jump onto the couch and then leap onto your back and you’d be carrying a small man on your back and-we’ll leave it there

♢Credits to gif owners♢

Hi guysssssss

the not today mv has put me in an emotional place

like did you see jungkook

namjoon threatened to wreck and i just couldn’t


i hope you enjoy!!


The Blue Stick Part 10

Pairing: Steve x reader  

Warning: Swearing. Pregnancy.

(Remember to always have protected sex people!!)    

A/N: It’s been great writing this story, and I’m sad to see it come to an end. Now to move on to the next one.

(Y/N) your name
(Y/H/C) your hair color  
(Y/F/F) your favorite flowers

**Russian Terms:
Nemnogo lyubvi (Little Love)
Rebenok (The baby)
devushka (Girl)

@skeletoresinthebasement  @allyp1023  @castellandiangelo   @meatballevan @castielohcastiel  @thejameebond  @writingruna

Steve’s standing in the kitchen talking softly, grinning at the blonde, curly haired, girl in his arms. She is wearing her typical pink dress talking back to him, though he doesn’t understand what she is saying he agrees with her, nodding along, smiling at her, asks her to tell him more. She grins in delight and continues her story waving her hands around her head tilting from one side to the other. 

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alderaann  asked:

First of all Mel congrats congrats you deserve a billion followers!!! <3 Could I please have option one: “I’m your lock screen?!” - “You weren’t supposed to see that.” for Bellarke?


your bellarke fic:

The first time he notices it, they’re on the couch, watching TV.

Clarke’s in the kitchen getting them fresh beers, when a familiar ‘ding’ sounds from her phone. Bellamy knows it’s Clarke’s phone, because his phone is pretty much always switched to silent mode.

(Loud alert sounds make him anxious, okay? Sue him.)

“Clarke! Text!” he calls over his shoulder, one hand automatically reaching out to grab her phone from where it’s lying face down on the other end of the couch.

To his utter surprise, Clarke bursts into the living room like a blonde hurricane, bounding from the kitchen to the couch within a single leap to snatch up the phone.

“Got it, thanks,” she says, evidently breathless from her haste.

His brow arches upward as he takes in her harried appearance. “You… okay?”

“Yep, fine,” she says, the phone held up to her nose. “It’s just Harper. Work stuff. The usual.”

He nods slowly, eyeing her up and down. “… Did you get the beers?”

Her head snaps up, and she shoves the phone into her pocket. “Oh, yeah. Uh. Be right back.”

The second time he notices it, they’re at the bar with the gang.

“All right, Blake,” Clarke says with a roll of her eyes. “You got lucky. I’ll give you that.”

“Unbelievable,” Bellamy scoffs good-naturedly, preening a little as he racks up for another round of pool. “You’re probably the only person on the planet who would call call winning twice in a row ‘luck’.”

She shrugs unconcernedly, swiping up her half-empty beer bottle with her free hand. “Well, maybe it’s a little bit of skill, too. Just, like, twenty percent. And maybe, I don’t know, fifteen percent concentrated power of will.”

“Zero percent pleasure,” Bellamy says, gesturing for her to break. “For you, that is. When you lose for a third time.”

“You’re terrible at this whole referencing songs thing, by the way,” she informs him as she moves around him to get to the other end of the table.

“And you’re terrible at pool,” he retorts easily without any heat. At the sound of a familiar ‘ding’, he automatically glances sideways to where their phones are sitting on the high table beside them.

And then he steps back in surprise when Clarke practically throws herself in front of him to get to her phone.

“I got it,” she says quickly, all but shielding the entire table from him with her body.

“Okay,” he says, one brow raised. “Something urgent?”

She hunches over her phone for a few brief moments, thumbs flicking over the screen.

“Nope, nothing,” she says, her voice oddly strained. “Just… work. As always.”

He watches as she finishes off with a clearly forced laugh, setting the phone back down on the table — face down this time, the screen hidden from view.

She loses the game, even more efficiently than the last two.

Over the next week, he suddenly can’t stop noticing how vigilantly Clarke keeps her phone to herself.

She always keeps it on her side of the couch when they watch TV, instead of leaving it on the coffee table like he does.

She makes consistent, deliberate efforts to place it face down whenever she has to let go of it.

And, she never, ever lets Bellamy so much as peek at the screen. Not even to check the damn time.

It’s fucking weird. Clarke’s always been a pretty private person, but she’s never been touchy about her stuff. At some point, he starts to wonder if she’s having some kind of secret affair with Harper. Or someone else from work.

And then one day, fate comes a-knocking.

“This has got to be too much basil,” he says, shaking his head at the small mountain of chopped herbs sitting on the kitchen counter before raising his voice. “Clarke? Are you sure it’s this much basil?”

A muffled response chimes in from down the hall, but it’s too distant to make sense of.

“Is that a no?” he calls, cautiously prodding at the raw slabs of meat in front of him.

Another response sounds from Clarke’s room, somehow even more muffled than the one before.

Bellamy sighs, glancing at Clarke’s phone sitting on the kitchen table. She’d been reading a recipe off the screen for the last twenty minutes, but now that she’d disappeared into her room to look for something or other, he’s suspended in a temporary limbo.

He glances towards the hall. No movement.

Blowing out a breath, Bellamy reaches for the phone. It’s JUST to check the recipe, he tells himself as his hand closes around the device. It’s completely irrational to be nervous about checking a goddamn RECIPE.

And that’s when Clarke chooses to reappear in the kitchen. Because, of course. 

“Okay, forget it, I couldn’t find the—” She freezes in the threshold, her eyes rounding with panic. “What are you—”

He holds up her phone, his jaw hanging slack. “I’m your lock screen?!”

“What,” Clarke snaps automatically, her face contorting with some strange hybrid of fear and embarrassment. “Wha— no.”

He stares at her, her phone still held up in his hand. “'No’, as in, this isn’t my face on your lock screen right now?”

Clarke blinks, and then lunges toward him, snatching the phone out of his grasp.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” she grumbles.

He thinks it might be intended as irritable. Instead, it comes off as flustered.

“Clarke,” he says, forcing himself to refrain from smiling.

“It’s just a lock screen, okay?” she snipes, stuffing the phone into the pocket of her shorts before stalking past him towards the basil mountain on the counter. “Don’t make a thing of it.”

“Clarke,” he repeats, planting his hands on his hips as he turns to face her.

“Everybody has weird lock screens sometimes, Bellamy,” she continues, grabbing a pinch of basil and forcefully sprinkling it all over the raw steaks. (More like throwing it at the steaks, he notes.) “Doesn’t necessarily mean—”


What,” she snaps, whirling around sharply.

He waits, his phone held in his outstretched hand.

“Wow,” she finally manages after a long beat. “Uh. I mean. Wow.” She tilts her head, as if considering one of her many paintings. “That's… actually not a terrible photo of me.”

“Yes,” he says dryly, despite the disconcertingly warm flush spreading across his cheeks. “I’m aware.”

A brief silence stretches between them.

“So,” Clarke says, her chin jutting upwards in that way it always does when she’s trying too hard to appear nonchalant.

Bellamy nods, fully conscious of the way his ears are burning. “So.”

She crosses her arms over her middle, one smug brow quirked. “Why am I your lock screen?”

He almost doesn’t recover in time to return her smirk with one of his own.

“Well,” he says, tucking his phone in his back pocket before taking a step towards her, “I gotta say — it’s because you’re so damn good at pool.”

He doesn’t mind the punch she manages to land on his shoulder right before he kisses her.

It’s a little because the punch is weak as hell. (He’s seen her punch for real. Her left hook is mean as fuck.)

It’s mostly because of the way she’s already grinning breathlessly, eyes bright and cheeks pink.

Hufflepuff: *lounging upside down on a couch with other hufflepuff*

Hufflepuff 2: *poking other Puff’s leg continuously with no intention of saying anything after*

Gryffindor: *knitting two sweaters for the puffs* I’m making these just for you two!! *clenches yarn tightly and smiles*

Hufflepuff: *flips over and sits back up right* Reeeaaallly????!!!

Hufflepuff 2: REAAALLLLYYYY?? THANNNKKK YOUUUUUUUUU *leaps off couch and hugs frightened Gryf*

Hufflepuff: *jumps on top of the both of them* TOWER PARTY!!! YAYYYY



This was requested by a follower, who asked me to base this fic on Peroxwhy?gens song “Presence”. However, I’m not great at song fics, so here you have this.

Word Counter: 1,157

Characters: Reader x Jeff Hardy

Style: Fluff

Triggers: Mentions of a death, an accident, sadness.


Originally posted by thehardyboyz

The drive home. It’s probably the worst time in the world to you. Being a multiple trauma surgeon, it’s hard on your mental stability. Some days you get a broken arm, some others you get irreversible brain damage. You keep your hands on the steering wheel and your mind in the clouds as the street signs light up green with your headlights as you pass them by.

McDougall St, you say in your head as you pass, last week’s ER visit from a man on a motorcycle who was hit by a garbage truck. You had saved his life, he had a perforated lung, a couple of cracked ribs, and bleeding on the brain.

You had wished so desperately from that thought, that people would just watch for motorcyclists. The man operating the garbage truck has come to see the man almost every day, because he completely felt guilty. You learned that the garbage man’s name was Arnold McGhee. He has a wife, two kids, and a puppy named Scooter. The man on the motorcycle, he’s Daemon Molina. He has a great paying job, a nice apartment, and a boyfriend of six years that he plans to propose to on their vacation next month.

You’re glad they’re both okay, and that your patient is alive, but every time you hear someone on a motorcycle has been hit, you instantly think of your boyfriend. The thought shakes you out of your head.

Your relationship with Jeff Hardy has been intense, wild, and a bit insane. You met him three years ago at a small RAW house show in Poughkeepsie, NY. You had hung out with him and a few others before going back to your home in Long Island, NY. A week after you meeting him, he managed to find your phone number and call you at three in the morning, effectively waking you up after thirty minutes of sleep.

It’s been love ever since. Hell, you even moved into his house in North Carolina with him a year after dating. He tried getting you into the wrestling profession to help with pro wrestling injuries, but you had said no because you enjoy being a trauma surgeon. He never fought you on the subject. You glance down to your wrist, a small blotch of dried red blood stains your skin. Your eyes tear up as you attempt to wipe it away. Tonight was hell.

You slow the car down as you pull into the driveway that is beautifully lit to the Jeff Hardy Manor. Even the sight of being home can’t stop your tears from falling. You step out of the car, making your way towards the door. The top of your scrubs still on your body, too tired to change before you left. You sniffle, drastically trying to keep yourself from falling apart. You turn the doorknob and enter the quiet, dimly lit home. The scent of lavender fills your nose. Candles.

As you follow the light purple candles with a knot in your throat, you begin to hear the strings of an acoustic guitar being played in the front room. You step into the doorway. Jeffs head shoots right up to look at you.

“Honey, you’re h-“. He stops instantly, looking at the drained color from your face and the tears falling down your cheek. Laying his guitar against the pillow on the couch, Jeff leaps up from the gray suede couch. He quickly walks over to you, wrapping you in his arms. You cling yourself to him, pulling your fingers into his shoulders.

“Talk to me”, he runs his hands through your messy hair, “what happened?”

Through gross sniffles and big tears, you finally speak, “I had to do a complicated surgery on a four year old today, she was hit by a car”, he pulls you tighter, “I had to tell her parents she didn’t make it”.

He places his hand against your head and squeezes you in a tighter embrace. Before you say a word, he scoops you up into his arms bridal style, carrying you to the bathroom. As you reach the bathroom, he sets you down gently, reaching over to run the bathwater. Jeff turns back to you, softly pulling your scrub shirt off your tired body. He places his lips against your shoulder blade, running his fingers down your arm before finally unclasping your black bra.

Jeff tugs at both your scrub bottoms and black panties, effectively pulling them down to your ankles and off of you. Ducking down, he softly kisses your forehead.

“Take your time, when you get out I’ve got a surprise for you”. Jeff turns and leaves, allowing you your bath time.

You scrub yourself with body wash, trying to scrub what just happened at the hospital off of you. After thirty minutes, you get out of the tub, wrapping a towel around you. You dry yourself, looking down at the sleepwear he picked out. Some silky shorts and a white cotton tshirt. You pull them on and step out, walking back down to the front room, where he again is playing his guitar.

“You’re beautiful”, he says without looking up, keeping his eyes to his guitar sheepishly, “would you like your surprise now?”

You nod, sitting on the comfy chair across from him. He sits up on the edge of the couch, messing with his guitar a little. Jeff clears his throat, as he begins to softly sing.

Wrote a poem to express my thoughts of you, and all the moments we have lived and made it through.

You stare at him with a smile on your face, watching him as he plays his guitar for you.

I’m combining raw emotion from the right and the wrong, To blend it in with all our possibilities holding on. So leave your worries with me.

What’s mine is yours, you know.

Your presence is a cure.

For me immediately.

You sit back, watching him get so wrapped into his song for you, his fingers move swiftly against the strings. His hair moving with every word that comes from between his lips.

Wrote a song to express my thoughts of us, and all the changes we have made and built through trust.

I’m combining pure emotion from the good and the bad, To blend it in with all our possibilities when passed, So leave your burdens with me.

What’s mine is yours, you know.

And your presence is a cure.

For me immediately.

As the strings on the guitar slowly trail off, he digs in his pocket, pulling out a small box. You slap your hand over your mouth.

“(Y/N), I love you. I always will, until I die. Will you marry me?”

The tears from your eyes spill over as you nod frantically. He grins as he pulls you over to him, slipping the ring on your finger, “guess I picked a great night to ask you”.

Acid Rain Pt 5

A.N. I’m super unwell my Crohns is acting up so this might be super lame but I’ll prolly make it up to you some how during this whole thing. Enjoy xx

Warnings: Angst, Angry Ivar,…. maybealittlebitofsmut…

Tags: @mrstheorossix3

Originally posted by whenimaunicorn

The bed was empty beside me when I awoke and I felt my heart plummet seventeen stories. He was just being nice after what happened I supposed. I tentatively made my way out of the room and found Hvitserk on the couch. He leaped up and hugged me when he saw me.

“How are you today? Are you okay? Do you need anything? How about some food? Coffee?” He dragged me to the kitchen and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’ll take the food, hold the coffee.” I sighed sitting down. I winced at the pain in my back, my head and my arms. He had really done a number on me. Hvitserk made me breakfast and stayed with me all through the morning.

“I really should go shower.” I stood up, wincing at the stiffness. “I’ll leave a key here so if you need to come in, you don’t have to bowl down the door.” I put a spare key on their counter before I made my way back to mine. Chairs were strewn everywhere and there was a few spots of blood spatter from when the Ragnarssons came to my aid. I felt my chest clench and I locked the my door, checking it twice. I fixed the chairs up and threw some cleaning agent and hand towels on the blood, leaving it there to deal with later. I turned on the shower and waited. I looked in the mirror at my bare skin after I undressed, my back was decorated with purple, my wrists had purple finger marks over them. I looked horrible. The second I got under the water I began to sob. I curled into a ball and just cried. I held my knees to my chest and felt the sobs explode.

I cried like that until the water turned cold. Even then I didn’t get up to turn the shower off, I simply let it run until I heard a soft knock on my bathroom door, I heard some crutches shift and I knew it was Ivar.

“Dove?” His voice was soft. I tried to respond but all that came out was a choked sob. He opened the door and saw my bruised back turned to him. I heard him exhale as he threw his crutches down and crawled to the side of the tub. When he was next to me I could see his eyes scanning my bare skin and taking in all the bruises, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

“Get out of this cold shower. You’ll catch your death.” He whispered, pulling my towel off the rail next to him. “Please Dove.” His blue eyes were soft and stared deeply at me. “I’ll give you privacy but please… come out and warm up. You’re going purple.” His thumb brushed over my bottom lip which began to shake after the warm sensation was gone. I nodded and he began to shift away, handing me the towel as I reached up and turned the shower off. He quickly left as I stood up, his face going a little pink. After I had dried myself off, I left the bathroom to find him on my bed. I felt a little awkward with nothing but a towel on but he opened his arms and as if he had a rope pulling me to him, I climbed into his arms and sighed. Even though these arms weren’t mine to want around me, I hated not being in them.

“You said I should be honest, right?” He said almost nervously. I nodded into his chest. He took a deep breath before speaking. “I left Julia.”

“Hvitserk said you two were happy together.” I mumbled.

“I know something that would make me much happier, also something that would make it easier to keep all my promises.” He hummed. I lifted my head and raised an eyebrow in confusion. He pursed his lips before gently placing them on mine. I sighed at the feel of his soft lips which were all to soon off mine. “I promised I would be here for you. I promised I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you or anything at all. I have to keep these promises Freyja. Please let me keep them.” He breathed, his eyes hardening in seriousness again. I wasted no time in kissing him again, a kiss that he deepened by grabbing the back of my neck. my mouth fell open as I sighed when his tongue ran along my bottom lip. His tongue danced past my lips and I heard a moan rumble from his chest. I straddled his legs as I wrapped my arms around his neck, his hands gripped my thighs as he rubbed circles with his thumb, moving his hands slowly up until they were cupping my ass under the towel. I whispered as he squeezed my ass, I felt him smirk while kissing me as he did it again, grinding me up against him, eating another whimper from me. He pushed me up slightly, keeping his lips on mine as he rolled us over so he was on top. His lips left mine and drifted down to my neck where they began kissing, biting and sucking, earning mewls and moans from me, his hands slid back to my ass again, squeezing it as he grinded his hardening member against my core. My toes curled as he ground against me, making me moan. He pulled away and looked down at me, I felt my face redden. Here I was, underneath Ivar Lothbrok, naked under this small towel. A dream come true. He kissed me once more before pulling his shirt off. Just looking at him made my core drip. I ran my hand along his muscles as he looked softly down at me, he slowly undid my towel and pulled it off me, I felt my cheeks burn red when I heard him softly gasp.

“My Dove you are more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.” He whispered before kissing me with more passion. His hands cupped my breasts before he moved his head down, taking my nipple in his mouth. I softly mewled as his tongue flicked it, moaning as his teeth grazed it. He gave the same treatment to the other one and practically had me coming undone beneath him. As he kissed and sucked at my neck, his hand slipped between my legs and up to my soaking core.

“Fuck…” he moaned as his finger ran up and down my slit, feeling how wet I was. I was whimpering with every pass of his fingers, a gasp leaving my lips as he found my bundle of nerves. He slightly ran his finger over it again making my back arch and a moan slip out. I felt him smile against my neck as his finger travelled down and entered me. I moaned embarrassingly loudly as he began working his fingers. He began kissing down my torso while thrusting his fingers in and out of me, kissing around my thighs as he listened to my mewls for a moment before his mouth was on my core, his tongue flicking my most sensitive spot. I gripped his hair and arched my back as his fingers continued working at the same time as his tongue. My moans grew louder as he brought me closer.

“Cum for me my Dove.” He whispered, his eyes locking into mine as he made me come undone by his mouth and hand. I moaned loudly and felt myself clenching around his fingers. He slowly pulled them out and licked them clean, moaning softly before pulling himself up, kissing me, making me taste myself. I moaned into his mouth. I pushed him off me and flipped us so I was on top. I began to undo his pants as I kissed him deeply. I freed his throbbing member and made my way down, planting kisses over his perfectly chiseled torso. I used my thumb to spread his precum over the top before placing my lips around it. I heard a groan leave Ivar’s lips before I began bobbing my head, taking him further and further each time. Soon he growled and pulled me off, getting on top of me again, lining himself up at my entrance. I moaned loudly as he thrust into me, he filled me completely and stretched me more than anyone else. He thrusted in and out of me, grunting with each thrust. I moaned his name loudly and he dropped his head and bit my neck. I moaned again and dug my nails into his back, which apparently only spurred him on more. He grabbed my thighs and pulled my legs up, thrusting deeper into me. I moaned even louder and he began rubbing my bud.

“Ivar…” I moaned, “I’m going to c-c-“

“Cum for me again Dove.” He growled, cutting me off. I felt my toes curl as fireworks spread in front of my eyes. I felt myself clench around him and straight away felt him twitch inside me. He grunted as he came but softly kissed me. I was out of breath and still somewhat surprised he was here with me at this point. He pulled out and helped me get settled before taking me in his arms and pulling me into my bed. He stayed with me all night and it remained so surreal.

anonymous asked:

Could you do a one shot where Tom Hiddleston comes home from a long trip away of filming for a movie and complaining to his wife until she surprises him with the news of her being pregnant?

A Hiddleston request!  Oh, how wonderful…I don’t get many of these!  Here is your one-shot, comin’ ‘atcha!

Shuffling through the door, Tom throws his bags off into the corner, a huff escaping his lips as he enters the empty flat.

“Y/N?” he calls out, wondering where you are, “I’m home, sweetheart!”

Bounding out of the room, a broad smile across your face, you run and throw your arms around him, thankful to finally have him home.

“Oh my god!” you squeal, “You’re back a day early!”

“Yes, thank god,” he says, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” you ask, feeling him sigh against your skin as you rub your hand lightly across his back.

“Here, come and sit.  Talk to me,” you say, leading him to the couch.

“It was just…oh god,” he groans, flopping his back into the couch as he runs his fingers through his hair.

“Is this a tea or Jameson kind of conversation?” you ask, lifting your eyebrow as you study his face.

“A Jameson,” he sighs.

Getting up from the couch, you ready his drink, grabbing a water for yourself as you bring the refreshments back over to the couch, crooking your leg up under your body as you turn towards him.

“What’s happened?” you inquire again, worry filling your eyes.

“Just a lot of nonsense,” Tom sighs, taking a large sip of his drink, grunting as he swallows it down, “No one knew how to time manage this filming, and they are late with the editing crew, so there is a good chance that I may have to end up flying back into the States if there’s a scene that they don’t have a good shot of, and it’s just an absolute mess.  This is the bit of time that I do get to spend you with, and they are encroaching upon it by not doing their own job to the best of their ability.  It’s just frustrating.”

Nodding as you listen to him talk, you crack open your water and begin to sip on it.

“…and it’s so inconsiderate of them to think that our time is completely disp-”

As he stops mid-sentence, his cocks his eyebrows up a notch as he takes in your appearance.

“Are you…thinner?” he asks, his voice upticking.

Furrowing your brow trying to hide your smile, you say, “Well, I haven’t felt too well these past few days.”

“Oh, sweetheart, here I am going on about stupid stuff…” he trails off, setting his drink off to the side as he cocks his body, placing his hand on your knee,  “Lets go lay you down.  Would you like some soup?  Or maybe some coffee?”

Shaking your head, you say, “No, that’s alright.  I feel fine for now, and besides, I should probably stick to water for a little while.”

“Yeah, you usually have a glass of wine with me whenever I end up having a drink.  Oh, I am so sorry.  How completely inconsiderate of me!”

“It’s alright, Thomas,” you coo, taking his face in your hands as you bring his lips into yours for a light kiss.

“I hope you’re not contagious,” he giggles, his lips going in for a longer kiss.

Chuckling lightly, you pull back and look him in his eyes, “I don’t believe pregnancy is contagious, no.”

Stunned, Tom pulls his head back slowly, his eyes wide as his jaw goes slack.

“D-di-…did you say…pregnancy…?” he asks, wondering if he heard you right.

“Yep,” you say, popping the “p.”

“Oh my god!” he yells, jumping up off of the couch and leaping onto the coffee table, “Oh my god!”

As he dances around on the table, pulling you up as he wraps his arms around you, you jump and wrap your legs around his waist, laughing into the crook of his neck as he spins you around.

“You’re pregnant!!” he yells, “Hahaaaaaa!”

Setting your feet down, he moves his hand to the back of your head and brings you in for a passionate, wet, teeth-clattering kiss.

“Oh my god.  I love you, Y/N.  I love you so much,” he whispers, pulling you in for a bear hug.

“And I love you,” you say, running your fingers through his hair as the embrace lingers.

“How far along?” he says, pulling back and smiling as his hands migrate down to your stomach.

“11 weeks,” you grin.

“11 weeks!?  And you didn’t call!?” he exclaims, the smile still very apparent on his face.

“Well, I was going to get on a plane to surprise you, but I’ve been pretty sick, and I wanted to tell you in person, so I just…waited,” you said, feeling the sickness start to well up in your throat again.

Oh, my Y/N.  I’m going to be a father…” he trails off.

“Uh oh,” you say, pushing him away as you throw your head over the side of the table you two are still standing on, vomiting all over the carpeted floor as Tom reaches to pull your hair back from your face.

“It’s alright…I’m right here…let it out,” he coos softly into your ear, your body heaving up breakfast as Tom slowly helps you off of the table with his free hand.

“It’s alright…the carpet can be cleaned,” he says, feeling you tense up as it starts all over again.

Once the sickness dies down, your body panting as involuntary tears barrel down your face, you feel Tom pick you up in his arms as he carries you into the bathroom.

“You, my love, are going to take a nice, hot bath while I clean the main room up,” he says, smiling at you as he strips you down and draws you a bath.

“I’m so sorry,” you choke out, rinsing your mouth out as you cringe at the taste of vomit on your tongue.

“Don’t you dare be sorry,” he grabs your face, his stern eyes searching yours.  “This journey that we are on…it’s…it’s beautiful, and mysterious, and completely natural.  Don’t you dare be sorry for anything that happens.”

Nodding as tears well in your eyes, he lifts you up and places you lightly into the bath, the warm water accepting your body as you sigh in relief.

“Join me when you’re done?” you ask, a smile crossing your lips as you lean back into the rose petal bubbles.

“Anything you want,” he says, leaning in to kiss your forehead before he gets up, closing the bathroom door behind him.

“I’m going to be a father,” he murmurs to himself, smiling as he ventures over to his cell phone, flipping it open and scrolling through his contacts.

“Mom?  Hey!  Yes, I’m back a day early.  Listen, do you still have that steam cleaner?  Great!  I was wondering if I could borrow it…”