counter relief


I hadn’t paid attention to it but he really is? Giving him firebending instructions and Zuko doesn’t listen and just does whatever he wants while demanding to be taught stuff he can’t handle yet?

Like, man. I didn’t remember Iroh was like this at first, at all.

… I like it better than how he is later but okay…

Marriage Material - Part 15

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14

Summary: in this chapter, you’ve changed.

Warnings: language

A/N: we’re going from a jim chapter to, like, the exact opposite.

You wanted to jam a scalpel into something. Not someone, thankfully, but something. Like a pillow, or a biobed mattress, or a CPR dummy. You wanted to dig the scalpel into an inanimate something and tug, and rip, and tear. You wanted to dig the cotton from the pillows, the sorry lack of cotton from the mattresses, and you wanted to pull the rubber covering the CPR dummy apart.

It wasn’t common for you to have such violent urges. You weren’t the most gentle, feather-like person in the least, but you certainly never felt like ripping sheets and thick rubber apart. You usually fought the urge to scream if you were angry— a lot of the time you gave in, too. You screamed into pillows, screamed in the shower, screamed in the confines of your quarters back when you lived solo.

Now that you lived with Jim, your space was his space, your pillow was his pillow, your shower was his shower. Unfortunately, you two would be in that space, near that pillow, and in that shower at the same time frequently. That meant you couldn’t scream non-sexually, you couldn’t release non-sexually.

All of that build-up, all of that clutter, all of that sudden spike in reason for said clutter, it just gave you the strongest frustration you’d ever felt. Your hands itched, your head ached, your chest felt weirdly contradictory.

You didn’t understand the feeling— the strange full but empty, too fast but too slow, anxious but calm feeling that you got each time you saw Jim, you heard Jim, you were near Jim. You hate it— all the clutter, all the feeling.

You were frustrated and angry and tired. You wanted to rip a goddamn pillow with a scalpel and scream while doing it.

You hopped off the biobed you were seated atop, your boot almost slipping on the deck plating you’d spilled a little water onto earlier. You caught yourself on the edge of the adjacent counter, laughing in relief and mild embarrassment. “Fuck.”

“Maybe don’t consider acrobatics as an alternative career, sugar.”

You made a face— eyes narrowed, single eyebrow raised, lips turned down in a frown. “We’re all good here? I can leave?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Leonard answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You’re healthy, whatever.”

“A little dissatisfied you could find nothing wrong with me, Len?”

He clicked his tongue with a single shake of his head. “Sweetheart, it’s a doctor’s dream to one day find every patient healed, every patient healthy, every nonpatient the same— you should know that.”

He set his PADD down and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m dissatisfied because of that,” he added with a flourished motion towards your face.

Your smile was sarcastic and a little outraged. “Don’t boost my self-esteem too much now.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Congrats on the follower count! How about rebelcaptain + one is on a blind date that's not going well and the other is the waiter. Bonus points if Jyn is the waitress!

Ok so I have to apologise profusely anon, because I attempted to write this prompt in like 3 different ways and absolutely none of it worked. I TRIED I REALLY DID AND IM SO SORRY, but since it wasn’t working I wrote you something else instead and it’s literally completely different but I hope you’ll still like it anyway. x

Please enjoy this ‘you accidentally sent me a booty text but I’m considering saying yes anyway’ au 

His phone buzzed just as he was stumbling in through his front door with his arms full of groceries. Refusing to make the trip up the stairs twice, he was laden down with probably more than he should have carried at once and cursed when he started losing grip on his jacket under his armpit. Kicking the door shut behind him, he couldn’t check the message until he had dumped all the bags onto his kitchen counter in relief. The little messenger icon was a familiar face so he tapped it absently as he started unpacking a bag –

and promptly choked.

Usually if Jyn messaged him this late at night, it was because she had found yet another thing to criticise from his latest essay. She apparently did all her best reading after 10pm because god forbid he ever get grilled at a decent hour, but he liked their conversations all the same. Used to their chatting being based about their classes or occasionally straying into memes and their favourite tv shows, he was now quite literally rendered speechless at the photo he had apparently just been sent. 

Though her face wasn’t visible he had no doubt it was Jyn just from the sheer muscle definition that he could sure as hell see because the only times he’d ever seen her this de-clothed before was when they’d occasionally hit up the gym together. She was almost naked in the mirror selfie she’d sent, her arms toned, her abs rock hard… fuck. It sent everything south and he didn’t know what the hell sound just came out of his mouth, but it miiiiight’ve been a whimper. The bra she wore in the selfie was white and lacy and the accompanying caption read:

this bra was too nice to not share

He… well, quite honestly, he stared for so long he thought he might just be having a brain aneurysm. She had to be joking, right? Sure, this was nothing like Jyn’s sense of humour, but it literally HAD to be a joke because it didn’t make sense if it wasn’t. The message felt like she had sent it (the severe lack of punctuation kind of gave her away) but it was so far out of left field that he was almost certain it hadn’t been meant for him. No, some other lucky bastard out there was supposed to be on the receiving end of this message, because he and Jyn weren’t like that, and who cared if maybe he kind of wanted to be like that, because they weren’t and they couldn’t –


Another message popped up. This time, it appeared that Jyn was keyboard bashing.

Im so sorry cassian shit pls ignore this PLS

It didn’t help calm his racing heart at all.

He knew he had frozen foods slowly defrosting away in his grocery bags still, but they seemed like a minor detail in comparison to the battle wracking his mind. Quite honestly… he’d been on the verge of throwing all caution to the wind and playing along. Maybe sending something a little suggestive back. It wasn’t an outright booty text, but it definitely wasn’t innocent either and perhaps it was the way to start, a way to just flirt a little, what could go wrong… but then he got that answer and he pressed his forehead to his kitchen counter with a frustrated sigh. 

On the days he wasn’t kidding himself, he knew that he was an absolute fucking goner for Jyn Erso. She was prickly and defensive and didn’t let any minor grammatical error past her, but once she got used to you she was hilarious to be around and her smile literally made his heart stop these days. Sometimes, on the nights they would study together late at the library, she would linger as he packed his books away and he got the feeling that hopefully, MAYBE, she was a goner too.

But then she said things like that and he would squash it all down.

Another message. He lifted his head gingerly to read it.

God cassian SAY SOMETHING DAMN IT I need to know that I haven’t just ruined our entire friendship lmao

He stared at her words, grappling hard until eventually, he figured fuck it.

Friendship’s overrated. I was going to say it definitely looked nice.

He hit send before he could lose his nerve and wondered if it was a little overdramatic to turn his entire phone off for good measure. He held himself back from adding on ‘just kidding’ and instead, forced himself to start putting away his groceries.

Another buzz made him drop the bag of frozen vegetables.

well, good. I wouldnt wanna waste a good selfie.

Cassian bit his tongue and typed back.

Honestly selfie game is 10/10. How’d you even get that angle?

I might’ve stood on somethin to make me tall enough. also might’ve nearly killed myself in the process 

Ah the price we pay for a good selfie…

Gotta get these boobs lookin good somehow

They’ve been doing just fine before now, tbh 

Fuck. That might’ve been a bit much. He grimaced, distracting himself with his shopping for the next thirty seconds and initially ignoring the subsequent message that eventually buzzed through. Finally, though, sheer nerves took over and he pulled up the conversation once again.

Cassian Andor, are you flirting with me?

You sent me a pic of your boobs, Jyn. He felt the need to stress this point. This was on her, she started this! 

Touché. So wanna come over, then?

BOOM. He was dead! His head had exploded and he was definitely, 100% very, very deceased. 

Do you……mean that in the way I think you mean that?

HEY. I worked hard at that selfie. If I have to go through the humiliation of accidentally sending it to my study partner, then the least the universe could do is also throw some sex in there for me
But um… hey if u want to say no, its chill. Idc its totally fine no hard feelings

Cassian thought about it for about ten seconds. Then –

I can be there in ten

It was just as he was rushing to throw whatever the hell was left in his grocery bags into the fridge – honestly, he literally didn’t give a shit how it was organised at this point – when he got another photo. He rubbed his eyes, groaning a little at the image of Jyn’s body, slightly zoomed out now. Her entire torso and upper legs could be seen and that was how he figured out that her underwear matched the bra.

Hurry up, mate she added. 

If you stop sending me shit like THAT I might
Jesus lord

No Regrets

Pairing: Avengers x Reader

Word Count: 780

Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol

Originally posted by tilldeathdousart

A drinking competition with Tony is a bad idea.

A drinking competition with Tony and Steve is even worse.

A drinking competition with Tony, Steve, Bucky, Natasha and Asgardian liquor is a death sentence.

But who are you to back down from a challenge?

“This is a terrible idea”

You snicker at the frown Wanda sends your way and watch her as she looks disapprovingly at the boxes of liquor you prepared beforehand.

“A terribly amazing idea!”

Tony chimes in from across the room and you could swear you saw the corners of Bucky’s lips turn upwards.


The brunette waves her hand dismissively and sighs, strolling towards the elevator with a small smile on her lips.

“Enjoy yourselves”

As much as you hated to admit it, Wanda had ultimately been right. You could feel the burn as the liquor went down your throat, and you could most definitely feel the effects it had on you.

Your sight was becoming blurry and the sudden, unexplainable desire to laugh at every ever so ridiculous and lame joke that Tony made was both overwhelming and fairly concerning.

“So, this lady says: I thought you were a myth! And then the guy is all like: Well looks like you were myth-taken!”

You snort a laugh and almost choke on the shot you’re currently taking, slumping against the giggling mess that is one Natasha Romanoff.

MYTH-TAKEN, guys!”

Your sides hurt from laughter and when you finally compose yourself enough to look up, all you can see is the broad grin of Steve and Bucky’s flushed face.

“I got another one!”

Tony is heaving by the time he pours himself another shot, his hands shaking and his motions imprecise, resulting in at least half of the bottle’s contents landing on both the floor and the sticky coffee table.

“Me too!”

Steve slurs and for a second all heads snap in his direction.

Bad idea.

You groan at the sudden wave of dizziness that hits you like a ton of bricks.

Only that the bricks are on fire. Everything is on fire. And you’re dying.

To your left Bucky mimics the sound that escaped your lips just seconds ago and leans against your shoulder, while Steve clears his throat and prepares himself for, what you are sure will be, the lamest greatest joke in history.

“So why don’t they put advertisements on the Hulk?”

He almost chokes on the laughter that he tries to keep in, his cheeks flushed red, with tears brimming at the corners of his eyes.

A collective, simultaneous shrug sends him into a fit of tipsy giggles, before he takes a long, deep breath and puts on his best serious face.

“Because he’s basically a GIANT BANNER!”

You erupt in a fit of laughter that is more snorting than actual laughing, and the rest follows.

 That is about all you can recall when you groggily stand to your feet and stumble towards the kitchen. Nat and Bucky are already there, with their heads on the counter while Wanda is rummaging through the cupboards for some painkillers.

She turns at the sound of your footsteps and sends you a pointed look, yet before she can get a word out, you send a dismissive wave and miserable groan her way.

“I know, I know, terrible idea- Bla bla. Whatever”

You plop down next to the red head and place your own head on the cool counter, moaning in relief, while Bucky takes it upon himself to chuckle at you.

“Do you guys remember anything?”

Natasha shakes her head negative, while Bucky raises his head and faces you with his bloodshed eyes.

“I remember kissing you”

He mutters, faintly and most of all confusedly, a look that you have no shame in matching, while Natasha raises both of her delicate brows.

Why do I remember kissing you?”

He groans at his lack of memory and you moan in annoyance, finding slight comfort in the soft hand that Nat places on your back with a groggy chuckle. 

“Mornin´ ”

You smile lazily at Tony and Steve once they enter the kitchen, and stretch slightly more to reach your favorite mug.

“Can you grab me mine too?”

Natasha mouths quietly and you nod, extending your hand just a tiny bit further to grasp at the handle.

“Anything else you want me to grab?”

The slight upturn of her lips makes you groan in annoyance, while she takes it upon herself to wiggle her eyebrows at you.


“Anything from the cupboard

Tired chuckles follow and for a second you forget all about the headache and dizziness from before and smile yourself.

Hell knows you don’t regret a thing.

anonymous asked:

Scenario with Tomura Shigaraki with a civilian s/o? They body praise him, sorry I can't think of anything else 💔

Don’t worry, it was more than enough, dear! I wasn’t sure if you wanted it to be smutty, so I went for a more fluffy (angsty) scenario just in case… Hope you enjoy! (I headcanon that Tomura has anxiety and cannot stand being left alone for too long so here you go)

Word count: 1065.

Trigger Warning: Anxiety attack.

Shigaraki Tomura:

No one who was not a villain was allowed into their hideout. It had always been that way, and even when he started to feel interested in [Name] – only interest and nothing more, he wanted to believe – the thought of letting them in didn’t cross his mind.

They knew who he was, and understood that they weren’t welcome in his life as a villain, which he appreciated.

But there were exceptions.

Such as when there was no one in the hideout. When Tomura felt lonely in the silent place, not knowing what to do. About to suffer an anxiety attack. Then, he would take the phone with shaky fingers and curse as the search of their contact took too long for comfort.

He read ‘[Name],’ pressed the screen with bruising force and waited for them to answer.

Fifteen minutes later, they found the hideout’s door wide open, and they hurried to walk in, closing the door behind them. The bar was empty; not a soul could be found, not a sound could be heard. They carefully stepped further, looking into the smallest places in search of the man they got to call their lover.

His voice sounded shaky and distressed over the phone, nervous, as he demanded them to come, and that solely had put their guard up. [Name] knew about his anxiety, that’s why they ran to the place as fast as they could, but finding the door wide open left their imagination to wander to a scenario much more horrible and painful.

Tomura was strong, he could handle himself against any enemy, but [Name] couldn’t help the concern that tore their very being as they ran to the hideout with their heart in the throat.

When they found him hunched over behind the bar counter, they felt slight relief until they noticed his shoulders tense to the point of shaking and the shallow breathing. [Name] knelt down and, as carefully as they could, put their arms around him, shushing softly into his ear when he struggled slightly, careful with his dangerous hands.

The first thing they searched for were any signs of disintegration on his skin and, relieved, they found none.

“Hey, Tomura,” they whispered, feeling his rapid breathing and heartbeat against them, their hands running up and down his back and into his oily hair. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

“All Might!” He screeched, jerking out of their grasp and reaching to attack [Name] with his hands; his lover yelped, barely dodging his attack, only then realizing that using the catchphrase of the Symbol of Peace to calm him down was a mistake.

“I’m sorry,” they breathed, trying to hold him again when he calmed down. “It’s just me, [Name]. Please, relax. Everything will be okay, yeah?” They chose their words carefully, never expecting when he could snap. Eventually, his breathing calmed down, the shaking stopped and Tomura returned the embrace hesitantly.

“[Name],” he muttered their name into their hair, and they could feel the wetness of his cheeks on his own as he tilted his head into their warmth.

“That’s me,” they smiled, reluctantly pulling away and letting their hands cup his face, gently bringing his red eyes to look into theirs. “How are you feeling?”

“Shitty,” he grumbled, frowning as he tried to break free from their grasp. “I hate this shit.”

“I know.” Their hands reached to take his, careful with his Quirk, their thumbs drawing circles onto the back of his hands. “Why were you all alone? Where is everyone?”

“On a mission,” he answered, taking one hand back to lift his black shirt, showing a bleeding bandage wrapped around his thin torso. “I’m still injured from the last attack.”

“Oh,” they mumbled, and the place went silent again, until they spoke again, slowly. “I’m glad you called me.”

“Why did you even come?” He asked, confused and slightly irritated.

“Because you’re important to me. I was worried,” answered [Name] truthfully, and the silver—haired male frowned, snatching his hand away from theirs. “Tomura?”

“I don’t understand why you stay with me. You know I’m a horrible person and you still stay around like I deserve you. I don’t get it,” he grumbled, feeling his partner shift closer to him, pressing him into the counter as they reached to cup his face again, fingers tracing the wrinkled skin around his eyes, running down towards his chapped lips, tracing his scar, and going back up to shift the hair away from his face, his rubies staring into their own eyes. “I’m a monster,” he whispered.

“Well, you might not be a hero,” they started carefully, testing the waters and hoping their words wouldn’t offend him; he was pretty unpredictable, after all, “but I definitely don’t see you as a monster.” They smiled, letting their hands run down his face, reaching his neck and caressing the scars from his constant scratching with gentleness. “You might have these sudden anxiety attacks, but that only makes me want to be by your side to help you out of them.”

Their hands reached his shoulders and squeezed the tense muscles before sliding down his arms, slightly tugging the fabric of his old shirt down his shoulder, and noticing the way the sleeves hung around his skinny arms.

“I always look horrible,” he whispered, hands pressed against the floor and recklessly causing it to flake under his abilities.

“You don’t,” they whispered back, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the mole under his lip, before running their own lips slightly upwards in a feathery trace to finally press them against his own, kissing him tenderly. His chapped lips always felt strange against their own, but that never stopped them from kissing him, kisses that would start gentle and soft, but would soon take a turn for rougher. This time, before Tomura could deepen it, [Name] pulled away, smiling. “And I love you.”

The villain couldn’t answer. He even averted his eyes from their tender stare, feeling their hands on top of his bony, cold ones, rubbing and warming them up.

It was okay if he couldn’t voice his feelings yet, [Name] knew that he felt something towards them, and that was everything that mattered. Until he was ready, they would patiently wait for him to warm up to their relationship, more and more, always with a smile on their face, always standing by him.

Vladimir Tatlin - Corner Counter-relief, 1915

Picasso’s works made Tatlin move forward in developing the idea of art. For him it was important not to work only with the form and the color. New type of art was to be created on the junction of painting and sculpture. Tatlin experimented with different materials making his famous “Counter-reliefs”. The experiment consisted in how each material (wood, thread, glass, metall and etc) works with each other. Texture became an important characteristic of art. This dimensional compositions reflects Tatlin’s suspicion to vision so the touch should help. 

One of the masterpieces of Tatlin’s counter-reliefs is the “Corner counter-relief”, 1915 which broke out with the traditional plane-standing composition. 

Tatlin made a step from depicting the world to constructing the material environment.  

rainplague  asked:

heyo, i plan to own/work at a cat shelter. roughly, what drugs could we keep on hand legally? what classes of drugs can only be acquired from a vet? not that i plan to do diagnosis by myself, but i would like to have some pain meds on hand incase its needed. tax: came for the breed reviews, stayed for the lovely lady behind the blog :D

Legalities will vary by country, but all prescription medications must be prescribed by a vet and you can’t have them ‘on hand’ for ‘just in case’ something happens. They must be prescribed for the individual cat. In Australia these are referred to as Schedule 4 medications, or S4.

So you could legally stock perhaps some worm tablets, parasite treatments, and I can think of one anti-diarrhea tablet that don’t need a prescription, but everything else you need to get from a vet.

Human medications are NEVER recommended for cats.

Cats are different and cats are special. If I find out someone has been giving their cat human medication, especially over the counter pain relief, then I will smack them upside the head with a rotten tuna fish.

I don’t care if ‘the internet’ says it’s ok to give medications, unless a vet who has seen the cat agrees, it’s not.

So you are out of luck with your ‘on hand’ medications.

Lucky To Be Coming Home Again

This is the eleventh part in my Chris Evans x Reader series that I have named “Song Lyrics For The Win.” I’ve tried to get lyrics from songs that I can then use as the title. Preferably a lyric pair that can be split into 2 one shots.

Pairing: Chris x Reader
Words: 977
Parts Nine, Ten, And Eleven are from “Lucky” by Colbie Caillat and Jason Mraz; song suggestion given by @bradygabrielle-blog

A/N: If you want tagged, send me an ask.
A/N: If you think of a set of lyrics, send ‘em in.
A/N: Do NOT post my writing on any other site. Do NOT take credit for my work. Do NOT copy and paste.
A/N: Reblogs are perfectly fine…because that’s still giving me credit for the work I did.

          Chris was away filming. You hated being away from him yet again. But you couldn’t just go with him every time. So, you were at home while he was being Captain America and getting to beat people up.

           You were wedding planning, which was helping keep you occupied. You had picked out your dress and had some things ordered for the ceremony and reception. You had chosen the cake flavor and design. And you had chosen the flowers. Everything was coming together. You couldn’t wait to marry Chris.

           You were looking through songs to add to the DJ list when your phone rang. You knew it was Chris before looking.

           “Hey, Babe,” you answered.

           “Hey, Gorgeous. How’s my girl?” he asked.

           “Better now,” you giggled.

           “Missing me?”

           “Just a little,” you said, “But I’m keeping busy, so that’s kinda happening. Only kinda,” you added.

           “I miss you too. I’ll be home soon though.”

Keep reading

Battle of Polygon Wood

Australian ambulance corpsmen in makeshift shelters in the newly-gained ground on September 28.

September 26 1917, Zonnebeke–After the success on the Menin Road Ridge, Haig and Plumer wanted to try another advance as soon as possible, while the weather held and the Germans (Haig hoped) were still reeling. They attacked again at 5:50AM on September 26, using much the same pattern as the previous attack.  A massive creeping barrage on a concentrated front (smaller than on the 20th, in fact), followed up by infantry making a limited advance who could dig in and prepare for counterattacks while still in range of British artillery.

For the most part, it succeeded just as it had on the 20th.  Lloyd George, observing progress from GHQ, could watch the progress unfold on a large-scale map.  At the front, however, the attack was far bloodier than such neat maps suggested.  Fighting was especially fierce on both flanks of the advance; on one, the British fell behind the creeping barrage due to a stream in their way, and suffered accordingly when the Germans returned to their machine guns.  On the other, the British and Australians had already been fighting German attacks throughout the night, and faced extremely determined resistance as they attempted to make their own.

Nevertheless, the British were again largely successful in taking their objectives and defending them against German counterattacks, although casualties were still quite high, especially from German artillery fire throughout the day on the relatively exposed British troops in fixed positions.  Having now lost substantial areas of ground twice in a week despite massive counterattacks, the German commanders were at somewhat of a loss as to how to combat these new British tactics.  A corps chief of staff, Albrecht von Thaer, wrote two days later:

I no longer have any idea of what should be undertaken against the English.  They set themselves a fairly limited objective for their attacks: to advance by only about 500 to 1,000 meters, albeit across quite a wide front.  In front of this area and deep into our zone, there is such devastating English fire that no being can survive in it.  Then, under the protection of this fire, and without sustaining many losses of their own, they simply move into the field of corpses and quickly install themselves there.  Our counter-attacks must first get through the rapid wave of fire, and then behind it they find a fixed phalanx with machine guns, and they collapse in ruins.  The last few days have given us the bitterest losses of life here.  Early [on the 26th], when one of our divisions was severely attacked, I immediately ordered a fresh new division from the rear to carry out a counter-strike and provide relief.  Even when advancing through the terrible fire, it lost a great number of men, and afterwards it could not go one step further forward.  Of course, the English have also suffered many losses, but probably not as many in this process.  This is primarily an artillery battle.  The English have three times as many guns and six times the quantity of ammunition.  So our dear soldiers die off.  One constantly keeps thinking: if we deploy more men at the front from the start, then these personnel will obviously also be annihilated; but having a thin front line and strong reserves coming from the rear – which is our current approach – will no longer do, either.

Today in 1916: British Take Thiepval
Today in 1915: Vain British Attacks at Loos
Today in 1914: South Africans Defeated at Sandfontein

Sources include: Nick Lloyd, Passchendaele; Lyn Macdonald, They Called it Passchendaele.


Originally posted by la-luz-del-alma

CHAPTERS PRIOR : 1 , 2 , 3 , 4

 TAGS : @kenzieam , @jaihardy , @pathybo , @elaacreditava , @tigpooh67 , @beltz2016 , @lostinthebeans 

I KEEP SAYING THANK YOU BUT THANK YOU AGAIN FOR READING MY WORK. This does contain mature theme, and will eventually only increase with the more chapters I post. If you find mature themes, and triggers to be overwhelming, I would not recommend continuing to read this story. I love feedback, and would love to hear your thoughts. 

I DID HOWEVER ADD A NEW LEADER INTO THE MIX, AND IT’S ONLY BC I HAVE AN OBSESSION WITH TOM HARDY AS WELL. ‘MAX’ !!not the leader of the faction !! can be whatever you picture him to be, but in my head he’s tom hardy (: . let me live vicariously through my protagonists. Any who, eNjoy!!!!

Chapter 5.





“Does one of you want to explain or should I just get started on punishment?” He replies dryly.

“Punishment?” I frown. “For what! He started it,” I groan as Max puts up a hand to silence me.

“I don’t care what kind of problems you guys have going on. It needs to be solved immediately. Work it out, and do what Jeanine tells you. That’s it. Trust me, you don’t want Jeanine to hear of any of this,” I roll my eyes, and cross my hands over my chest.

“Get to training; I’ll figure out what punishment is in store later,” Eric hasn’t said a word, but I don’t think Max expected him to. I walk up a few flights of stairs following Eric, until I’m at the roof. There are initiates lined up with ear mufflers, and guns in their hand.

Four hands me an unloaded gun, and two magazines. He stares at me wearily. Probably questioning if giving me a potentially loaded gun was a good idea. I tilt the gun, and push the magazine in clicking it and aiming straight at the plastic dummies. I take a deep breath, and aim for the main spots. I hit the target spot on in every location, every time. I keep hitting target until my gun clicks, but Four is quick to take it from me before I can reload the next magazine.

My chest is still rising rapidly as I stare at him through hooded eyes.

“You’re already top of your class, I don’t think it’s necessary for more physical training,” He pauses, staring over my shoulder at something. “Maybe its best you take a few laps, and call it a day,” He says, as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Fine,” I huff, and walk down a few flights till I’m outdoors. I exhale, and briefly wonder to myself if this was all worth it. I contemplate finding a way back home, but decide it’s too risky. Eventually I’d go back home; When, and for how long was debatable.

.           .           .          



The last few days of physical training weren’t tough as I wasn’t actively taking a part in any of it. I found that consciously telling myself to not try and strangle Eric in his sleep got harder day by day. However, saying that we weren’t actively avoiding each other at all costs was a lie. During the few days of limited training, I had gone over to Erudite, and grabbed as many book, and files on Divergents as possible. They were all cluttered in a corner near Eric’s bookshelf to the far back, and most of them were useless.

Mindless reading seemed to get worse as every minute passed till I heard the click of the door. There’s faint laughter, and it’s a woman’s voice. I don’t pay much mind, and grab headphones on the counter top near me, and wirelessly play some songs on shuffle. As the music booms in my ear, I feel eyes on me, and I look up to find a woman’s. She had dark brown hair that reaches her mid shoulder, and she’s staring at me with wide eyes. What’s wrong with her? I pull a earbud out, and stare back.

“Um, my names Kimberly. Kim for short,” She smiles, and I still stare at her wearily.

“Okay, can I help you?” I ask her.

“I, uh sorry. You probably don’t know who I am. I’m just waiting for Eric; It’s date night,” I nod, and put my headphones back in.

Never pegged Eric to be the dating type. Especially with someone so nice, and gentle looking. I shrug the confused feeling off, and continue to read through another volume of divergent info. As I skim through it a name catches my eye.








AGE : 28

HEIGHT : 5’4













AGE : 32

HEIGHT : 5’10









SUN RISE 4TH WEEK OF THE 4TH ERA : Subjects have been detained, but are not complying with protocols or testing. Immune to shot, and resistant. Female subject may be pregnant with Male’s child.

SUNSET 6TH WEEK OF 4TH ERA : Both Indra and Coro have fled Erudite testing hall. Subjects were seen on train towards Amity, but no signs of any whereabouts. Dauntless, and Erudite are to patrol fence until found.

SUNRISE 7TH WEEK OF 4TH ERA : Subjects have still not been found, guarding the fence will begin immediately. Blood faction relatives are alerted, but have no information on whereabouts even after using truth serum created by Candor.

SUNSET 20TH WEEK OF 4TH ERA : Documentation, and further research on VIDAL’s are terminated. Coulter, N. confirmed elimination, and both subjects upon resist. Vidal Family have been notified. Eldest daughter of Reva and Freyr James has gone missing; Eldest son Tove still stands, and is being prepped for initiation when eligible.










My blood runs cold, and I stare at the piece of information. I add some event’s up in my head, and realize that around the time of my parents escape my mother was pregnant with me. I try to force myself to understand, and filter the information but I couldn’t. None of it made any sense. My parents weren’t dead, they were alive. They moved outside the wall, and away from the US Government. Our community lived off the grid from both sectors of civilization. I keep skimming over the words, trying to put some information together but I couldn’t remember the events. Possibly because I wasn’t old enough to be aware of my surroundings.

I remember being in the fields of Amity often, with no trouble. I remember playing with Amity children but I also remember having friends from Erudite too. A small group, but nothing I could forget. I just couldn’t remember who they were. I stared at the open page blankly, trying to take in the information. Why would Jeanine want me to research my own family?


“Lia,” A deep, demanding voice spoke to me, and I snapped out of my daydream.

“Huh, oh. Hi,” I look up and see Eric standing a few feet away staring at me oddly.

“What were you reading?”

“Document’s on event’s prior to the rebellion,”

“Did you find anything?”

“No, Eric. It takes time,”

“How much time?”

I stare up at him blankly. He seems annoyed, but I look past him and see the girl that was here prior behind him. Ah, I see. He doesn’t want me here. I nod my head, and grab a bunch of books to take with me. I place my jacket loosely over my shoulders, and push my feet into my sneakers that laid by the door. He watches me intently, but doesn’t say anything as I leave. I bit the sides of my lips as I figure out a place to stay, and study without anyone bothering me. My mind flashes to the roof when we did gun training.

After walking up a few flights I push open the roof door with my shoulder, and find a corner to sit near. I plop down, and lay my books in a neat pile by the corner. I re-open the books, and skim through more pages hoping for something that could satisfy Jeanine enough to stop thinking Divergents were threats. I don’t know how long I keep reading but my eyes are heavy, and I feel myself drifting off to sleep.

.          .           .           .           .

I wake to birds chirping, and I feel soft covers over me. I’m shut my eyes to continue sleeping until I realize that the last place I remember being was the roof, and this was not the roof. I sit up, and stare at my surroundings. It’s not Eric’s so it must be another leaders. Fuck. I search around, and spot my books neatly stacked on a nearby counter. I sigh in relief, but still keep my guard up. I push myself out of bed, and sit at the edge.

“Sleep well?” A thick voice from behind me speaks. I turn my head to the side, and watch as he walks by me concentrating on something he was doing in the kitchen. He’s tall, and built. Alike Eric, but completely opposite in features. He has medium, thick black hair that faded on the sides, and a lightly grown beard. I’ve yet to meet him up until now. I stop analyzing him, and nod silently.

“You’re Tove’s sister?” He asked, I looked at him curiously. How does he know I’m related to Tove. He laughs slightly as he stuffs a piece of bread in his mouth. “I saw your badge card in your jacket, you both have the same last name,”

“I’ve yet to meet him. I don’t even think he knows I exist,” I laugh to myself.

“He speaks of a sister. Is that not you?”

I shake my head no. “I have an older sister, but I was born after we were separated,” His squints his eyes at me, but drops the subject.

“I found you sleeping by the roof. So I brought you here, do you not like to sleep with the initiates in the living quarters?”

“Oh, uh. I have to stay with Eric till initiation for safety. But, he had plans so I didn’t want to be an awkward third wheel. I must’ve dozed off and forgot where I was. I’m sorry about that,” He shakes his head as if it’s no big deal.

“Ah so you’re the reason why there was blood all over the training room,” I don’t respond, but I continue to watch him. “Well, if a situation like that happens again and you have nowhere to go, you can always come here,” He says, and I’m filled with a light buzzy sensation.

I nod. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I smile to myself, before straightening myself out.

“Your shirt was covered in gravel, and dust so I put it with your jacket by the table near the door. You can keep the sweater if you want,” He smirks lightly, and I take notice that I’m wearing his baggy sweater. I fiddle with the sleeves, and smile to myself again. Just take the compliment, and stop blushing. I scold myself.

“I should go, but thank you again,” I smile up at him as I put my shoes on.

“I’ll walk you down to the pit. There’s no training today ; Ranks go up soon. You’ll see where you stand, and if you move onto to the next stages of training,” I nod.

“Okay, thank you,” He grabs his jacket, and I grab mine stuffing the old shirt into one of the pockets.

Our walk down to the pit is silent, but not an awkward silence like it is with Eric. Within a few minutes we’re in the pit, and there’s a swarm of dauntless initiates. I continue to follow him all the way to the front where I see Em, and Zephryine together. They glance at me, and then at the man next to me and wriggle their brows. I roll my eyes at the suggestion, but continue to stick with him till I’m at the front. “I never got your name,” He laughs next to me.

“Lia,” I outstretch an arm, and smile at him.

“Max, I’m one of the leaders,” He states, and I take that there are a few other leaders who aren’t participating in the initiation process. As I step forward to see the board, I spot Eric, and almost immediately he spots me. He looks pissed, but then again when is he not pissed. His eyes stare at me, and then flicker over to Max beside me. He glances over both of us a few times, and I can see he’s deep in thought. He clenches his jaw, and turns back towards the board.

“You see,” I hear Four boom. “This board will be ranked with all of your names by tomorrow morning. To your right, you’ll find clothes for the war games tonight. See that you make it to the train in time. That is all,” He ends his short speech by turning on the board. Empty name slots appear all numbered, and I hear chatter about it behind me. Max pats my lower back, and instinctively wrap my arms lightly around his neck.

“Thank you, again,” I smile, and he returns the embrace tightly before heading back out of the pit. I follow my fellow initiates towards the pile of clothes, and feel him walk up next to me.

“Didn’t think when I went looking for you that you would be fucking another leader, but I guess I don’t really know you that well,” I shoot an angered look at Eric.

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me so far. I guess fucking leaders is my calling,” He clenches his jaw hard, and he turns himself to me as I stop.

“They only want you for your body, and your looks. Nothing more,” I scoff at the statement.

“Thanks for the clarification,” I sneer, and walk away from him. I walk over towards where Em, and Zephryine stand. They’re both rummaging through the clothes gathering up sizes.

“Here, I grabbed you some things in your size,” I smile.

“Why thank you,”

“These look terrible, how will I look nice in this,” Zephryine heaves, holding up her pairs of clothes. “I can’t win in this faction,” I laugh at her comment.

“I don’t think we’ll be dressing like this forever,” I reply.

“It feels like forever!” She exclaims.

“So besides the fact that you keep befriending all the hot leaders, we have most of the day off, and need to get tattoos and gossip!” She jumps in excitement.

“Yeah, you need to tell me where you find them. Maybe they’re all hiding from us until after we’re done,” Em squints her eyes, while nodding her head.

I roll my eyes, and laugh. “I don’t think it’s like that. Let’s go get some new ink, and we’ll talk about who’s hot and who’s not, then,” They both shake their head, and lead me towards a red lit room. There are a bunch of glass flash tattoo’s all over the room, and a few people with big black patches on them. I stare at it oddly, and continue to watch as one of the female artists pulls up the material, and reveals a fresh piece.

“That’s so odd,”

“What’s odd?” Em asks,

“They patch tattoo’s on. An odd concept,”

“What do you mean?” Zephryine turns to listen to Em, and I’s conversation.

“I have a bunch, but they were all made with a machine gun. Or hand poked, but I’ve never seen them patched on before,” I stare at a female artist in the back who keeps her eyes on me.

“You have tattoo’s? Since when!” Em’s facial expression is surprised, but it soon fades.

“To be fair, she does look like the type to get tattoo’s, and piercings,” Zephryine adds, and I feign shock. In return, she lightly slaps my arm. Her eyes move to something behind me, and her eyes move back to mine. “It’s like he likes to follow you,” She raises her brows in my direction, motioning to look behind. I turn my head to the side, and see Eric. His attention isn’t on me, but his arms are crossed, and he’s speaking to an artist. He motions to his neck tattoos, and I overhear that he wants his last round of touch ups. I turn back to the female artist in the back, and smile at her. Her face, and stance is stoic, but I’m not afraid to approach her.

“I’d like to get a small henna style tattoo on my my middle finger,” She stares at me, and nods her head showing me a few styles, and I agree to pick one. I hear a scoff from the end of the room, and see Eric with patches on his neck.

“Typical,” He says in a lower tone, but I can still make it out.

“It’ll only take a few minutes because it’s a small tattoo. The bigger the piece the more time it takes,” She explains cleaning the patch, and placing it on my finger.

“I’d like to get both of my nipples pierced too,” I add, and she looks up at me with raised brows.

“I’m the piercer, so I can do it while we’re waiting for your patch to finish up,” She nods, and instructs me to take my sweater off. I look up as I pull Max’s sweater over my head, and place it on the side. Em, and Zephryine are staring at me like I have ten heads, but quickly put two, and two together. They both smirk, as they get sized for their own tattoo’s.

“Are you comfortable with taking everything off here, or do you want to go into another room for this?” She questions me, and I shake my head no.

“No, here works just fine,” I respond. My eyes slowly meet with Eric’s, and he looks a little tense. Whether it’s from the tattoo or the fact that I’m making him witness my first nipple piercing. I unlatch my bra, and lay it off to the side as I sit down onto the chair behind me.

“Who did these?” Her eyes roamed some of the tattoo’s I had on my forearm, and some peeking out from my leggings.

“Um, it was traditionally done. I don’t think you’d know him,” She continues staring at them, but then stares back up at me.

“There’s only one person I know that does tattoo’s like that,” I look down at her, and assume it’s fine to tell her who put their artwork on me.

“Tom Cilard,” We both spit out in unison. She stares at me with wide eyes, and realization of where I may have come from hits her. She nods, and continues to sterilize her needle, and clamp.

“Okay, the clamp will be the least of your pain. The needle pain will only last for a few seconds, but discomfort may last for a few days up to a week. Count to three,” I nod.

“One, Two,” I pause taking a deep inhale deciding that if I wanted Eric to suffer I might as well stare at him straight in the eyes. “Thr-“ I wince slightly as she had already inserted the needle before three. I pry my eyes away from Eric’s, and look down as she slides the needle out, and the piercing in. “Last one,” She smiles up at me, looks back briefly, and spots Eric. A smirk begins to appear on her face as she tightens the clamp around my nipple.

“You’re the only one ballsy enough to taunt him like that. I like you,” She laughs, and stares intently at my nipple making sure to get an even level when piercing me. “Same as last time,”

“One, Two,” Before I can finish two she’s already pushed the last needle through. I sigh a small breath of relief, as I feel her move the piercing in. I bite the side of my lip as she rummages for paperwork.

“You already have piercings so I’m sure you know the protocol, but in case you forgot here is all the do’s and don’ts. Here is something to clean it with,” She plops a brown spritzer bottle in front of me. “Try not to have any harsh impacts on the breasts, and in the next few days you should be able to go back to a normal routine. However, keep a good eye on it for the next few months. If anything pops up, just stop by here,” She begins to pull off the patch on my finger, and I completely forget that I had gotten a patch art done too. I smile at the small design, and thank her.

“Elisa, and it was a pleasure,” She smiles, shaking my hand as I get ready to leave.

I pull the sweater over my head, and stuff my bra into one of the sleeves in my jacket. Em, and Zephryine are done, and gathering their stuff as the artist that’s working on Eric begins to remove his patch on his neck. The color is darker, and more prominent than it normally is. As we all get ready to go, I lean down a bit as I pass Eric.

“Hope it wasn’t too typical of me,” I shrug, and smirk to myself. He grabs ahold of my bicep, and pulls me closer to him.

“Be careful who you play with. You won’t like when I play back,” Heat rushes through my body, and I manage to snatch my arm back before there is evidence of my arousal. Em shakes her head, but continues to walk with me.

“You like to play with fire, girlie. Make sure you don’t get burned,” She warns, but I sense it’s from a sincere, and genuine place so I smile warmly at her.

“I’ll try not to,” I chuckle, and Zephryine is chuckling in the background.

I see Caleb running up to us, and we all stop. “War games, 30 mins. Meet near the train,” We all nod in unison, and head off to change.

Let the War Games Begin.

to you, i thee wed (chapter two)

They didn’t know they were marrying each other until the bride got to the altar. And then panic ensued. Married at First Sight AU.


Part: 1 2

WC: ~5.5K

It doesn’t begin as a joke, the way that she finds herself wanting nothing more than being told yes from a group of people she doesn’t know.

It begins because her plans aren’t aligned with her present situation, for Marinette has grown to define herself by goals and tasks to complete. Fix this, defeat him, win, win, win . She wants to fill her history with memories that are worth revisiting with fondness instead of shame: bright Parisian nights while laughing under the stars as she takes flight. She’s not an ambitious girl by design, but by creation, much like the clothes she sews. The once fragile threads of her soul are woven stronger with her accomplishments to keep her company as she grows older.

Protect Paris. Check. Graduate from the Paris School of Fashion and Design. Check. With honors. Check, check. Open a boutique. Check. Make a profit. Check and check. Start a family. Ch–

Keep reading

Yours Forever

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Request: Can you do a one shot where Bucky and the reader breakup because the reader thinks that Bucky is in love with someone else because it seems like he’s becoming distant and would rather spend time with them than the reader? requested by an angsty lil anon ♡

Word Count: 2194

Warnings: angst

A/n: hope you like it, anon!

Originally posted by thespoilerwitchblog

Bucky had never been great with communication, but this was ridiculous. You glanced at your phone again, your eyes scanning the screen for any sign of a notification. Instead, all you saw was your lock screen, a picture of you and Bucky together, arms around each other with huge smiles.

Your rolled your eyes and glanced around the bar. Bucky was supposed to meet you here after his training for a double date with Sam and his new girl.

Yet here you were, all dressed up, but no boyfriend in sight.

Your phone buzzed, and you hated yourself for grabbing it so desperately. A text from Bucky glowed on your screen. “Sorry doll, got held up at the compound. I can’t make it. I’ll call you tonight x”. You sighed, clicking the power button, the screen fading to black.

Keep reading

bfketh  asked:

If you feel like it (it's okay if not since I've already sent one in) eruriren or hartwin - "I’ll never unsee that."

I sort of forgot this was here >.> Sorry. Anyway, eruriren it is, since it’s still eruriren week. ETA: so I wrote this, and uh, somehow forgot to use the actual prompt. I hope it suffices regardless.


Erwin paid the taxi driver and looked up at the building in front of him, double checking the address. The sky was grey and threatening, and there was a good chance of snow, and he pulled on his gloves before pulling up the handle on his wheeled suitcase.

There was a plastic wreath on the door to the apartment building, and there had been Christmas music piped in at the airport. Christmas was only two days away.

He pushed the appropriate intercom button and waited.

This was going to be weird.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hello! Could I please get a scenario where the nekoma gang gets drunk for the first time with their s/o who had experience with alcohol (What type of drunk are they or how would they act)? Please and thank you!! :D

Kuroo becomes a stupid flirt when he’s drunk. “Hey,” He slurred over his umpteenth drink of the night. “Do you come here often?” His s/o sighed, ignoring his creeping hand around their shoulder. “Kuroo, I came here with you.” He hiccuped and nearly sloshed the drink onto the tabletop. “W-Woah, really? Like, on a date?” His s/o bit back their laughter and managed, “We’re already dating.” The Nekoma captain’s eyes bulged as he gaped at them. “No way,” He mumbled. He pumped a fist and whispered, “Nice..”

Kai becomes very talkative when he’s drunk. “S-So, one time when I got to the clubroom,” He recounted, accidentally slamming his glass down loudly. “Kuroo was there but I guess he got there early and didn’t think others would be arriving yet so he was just..” The Nekoma co-captain dissolved into giggles as his s/o waited patiently. He took another swig before continuing his story. “He was just modeling and posing to himself in the mirror. He was in nothing but his tighty-whities and-” His s/o placed their hand over his mouth, red with embarrassment. “Kai, stop talking!” 

Yaku is usually the designated driver but the time he’s allowed to drink, he becomes a Wine Mom. His s/o snickered as his intoxicated blush set in after one drink. “It’s just so hard,” He complained, carelessly swirling the glass in his hand. “Why am I in charge of such a goofy team? They’re like dumb cats or something.” His s/o stifled their laughter and nodded, sipping their drink thoughtfully. “You’ll be okay, Mori.”

Kenma becomes immensely cranky when he gets drunk. He’s a very lightweight drinker but after some bad choices, whoever is with him is at his mercy. Thankfully, he’s nice to his s/o but he gets very cuddly. The two sat in their booth, Kenma pressed against his s/o’s side with their arm around his shoulders as he glared at everyone who passed by their table. “I hate this place,” He grumbled. “The music’s too loud and those idiots over there are starting karaoke.” His s/o tutted. “Now, now, Kozume. Those idiots are your teammates.” He cradled his half-full glass. “My statement still stands.”

Yamamoto literally wants to fight everyone when he’s drunk. “Eh? That bastard over there is looking at me funny.” His s/o gripped his wrist but he half-rose out of his seat, hovering slightly above the chair. “O-Oi! You, over there!” The guy he had singled out looked over curiously. His s/o buried their face in their hands, not able to look. “Huh? You wanna fight?” Yamamoto taunted. He burped loudly before continuing, “I’ll kick anyone’s ass. I’ll kick your ass. I’ll kick your dog’s ass.” His s/o reached over and tugged him to sit but he managed to shout out, “I’ll kick my own ass!”

Fukunaga, when drunk, is seemingly okay one second then passed out the next. He was simply sipping his sake when his s/o found him slumped over. “Ehh?!” They grabbed him by the shoulder and peeled his face from the counter, sighing with relief at his sleeping face. “Shohei,” They scolded. “Wake up.” They lightly shook him by the shoulders but he simply slipped out of the grasp and back onto the counter. “We’ll be leaving now,” His s/o apologized to the bartender as they slung his arm around their shoulder.

Inuoka becomes immensely confident when he’s drunk. “H-Hey, _____,” He burped. “Bet I can get this crowd going if I sang karaoke.” His s/o pinched the middle blocker’s shirt sleeve to keep him from rising out of his seat. “Please, reconsider.” Their plea was ignored as he shrugged out of their grasp and stumbled over to the DJ. “H-Hand me the mic.” His s/o could only watch, horrified, as their boyfriend took the stage. “T-This one goes out to that cool drink of water over there, _____!”

Lev becomes even more clumsy and giggly. “W-Whoa,” He bubbled dizzily as he stumbled around the bar stools. He sat down with a plop, the stool squeaking with distaste. “Hah, look at this, _____.” He swiveled his hips and the stool spun from side to side. His s/o took a seat besides him and casually gripped his stool, keeping him from spinning. He continued his actions, however, looking downright silly as he wiggled in his seat. “I’ll take a glass of water, for this dummy, please.” His s/o asked the bartender.

Daily Phlint: Reassurances

The apartment door creaks a little when it opens, and Phil has told Clint at least three times he should get it fixed, but Clint forgets these kinds of things. Now, the creak sounds like it’s in an echo chamber because there’s no noise inside at all. No television playing some inane cop show, no coffee pot percolating, no shower running.

“Clint?” he calls, but the call disappears into the silence of the place. He looks at his phone for the fifth time since entering the building, but there’s still no call or text from Clint. He sets his keys on the cold marble counter of the kitchen.

His chest is tight and he can practically feel the blood running through his veins, threading down his arm and out into his fingers that twitch uncontrollably in the dim light of the room. He’s sweaty and his teeth won’t stop clenching no matter how much he wills them to. It’s panic threading its way through his body, leaving him breathless and tired.

He climbs the stairs to Clint’s bedroom and should feel relieved that no suitcases or duffel bags are missing, that Clint’s toothbrush is still visible on the cracked bathroom counter. The relief doesn’t come. He looks at his phone again. Nothing. He sits down on the edge of the unmade bed and fingers the pale purple sheets under him.

“I’ll call you,” he recalls Clint saying yesterday, his voice dark and laced with anger. But he hasn’t called, hasn’t checked in at the shooting range, hasn’t been seen in the cafeteria or in the jet hangar where he sometimes just sits in the rafters and watches the techs work on the planes. Now it’s three in the afternoon and his apartment is empty.

The front door creaks. Phil doesn’t jump, but he sucks in a sharp breath and twists the sheets in his fingers. His teeth ache from him pressing them even closer as the sound of the door closes.

“Phil?” Clint calls, and the panic that was filling him to the brim a second ago churns and changes into a new panic, a more dangerous one that might mean the end of everything; while he was still looking for Clint things were up in the air, but now everything was going to crash to the ground and play itself out no matter what Phil wanted.

The steps don’t creak, but Phil can hear Clint’s boots step quickly, like he’s running up to find Phil. He closes his eyes as he hears Clint burst into the bedroom. The bed sinks a little next to him and Clint’s calloused, always dry hand finds Phil’s and pulls it from the sheets.

“Hey,” Clint says, gently and a little breathless. “What happened?”

Phil opens his eye and feels his jaw drop just a little – more than it should; he should be able to control his body better than this. He doesn’t answer.

“Phil, talk to me,” Clint whispers, and Phil hears his own brand of panic in Clint’s voice.

He closes his mouth for a moment and then swallows before he can manage to speak. “You said you’d call. You didn’t call and no one’s seen you today. You weren’t here, and you didn’t come find me.” He takes a shuddering breath. “I thought – I didn’t know –“ He feels Clint stiffen beside him.

“I was angry. I made one bad call and Hill dressed me down in front of everyone and made me look like a fucking stupid junior agent wet behind the ears.” Clint blows a hard breath out. “In case you didn’t know, I don’t handle discipline well, much less when it’s done in public. I had to stay low a while or I was going to do something even more stupid than make a bad call.”

Phil doesn’t know what to do with this information. He should. It’s his strength, knowing what people need and what to do in a tense moment. Instead he just stares at his hand in Clint’s. “I was afraid you’d run,” he says. “Hill shouldn’t have done that to you, and I tried to wait on you patiently, but you said you’d call and you didn’t, so I came here expecting to find you gone.”

Clint closes his eyes and Phil sees the tired lines on his face, sees the same clothes he was wearing yesterday, sees a slight tremor in Clint’s jaw, so he reaches out, runs his finger down Clint’s cheek and presses his palm against his jaw.

Clint leans into the touch. “I wouldn’t leave. I was going to call, and I’m sorry, but Phil,” he says, and Phil’s name sounds like it’s being pulled from Clint’s chest. “Phil,” he repeats. “I wouldn’t leave. Not anymore. Not you.”

At his words, Phil’s chest unfurls, the blood in his veins stops churning, and his muscles loosen.

Clint leans in and kisses him slowly and his cool, wet lips feel like a salve on Phil’s and he loses a moment in the kiss before Clint pulls back gently and runs his hand down Phil’s arm. “You panicked. You thought I’d leave you, and you panicked. I’m sorry.”

Phil closes his eyes. “I haven’t been in a relationship in seven years, and she left me without a word. I might be a little irrational about us for a while.”

Clint presses a kiss to the corner of Phil’s mouth, and when Phil opens his eyes again, Clint is grinning. “For a while, huh? Think we’ll last a bit?” he says, and his voice is filled with mirth, but his eyes are searching Phil’s in earnest. Phil knows Clint has his own insecurities.

“As long as you want,” Phil says, and runs his hand through Clint’s hair.

“As long as we want,” Clint corrects, and pulls Phil down onto the bed. He rolls over so he’s on top of Phil. His eyes twinkle. “Now let me get on to reassuring you that I’m still here.”

the frozen yogurt paradox

tumblr AU: “I always give you extra toppings when you come into our yogurt shop and it’s costing me money but damn you’re hot." 
pairing: Bellamy/Murphy
words: 3805 
triggers: none except for cheesiness. mozzarella, anyone? 

It was any other day at the frozen yogurt shop.

It was a meaningless, simple existence. Murphy worked at the yogurt shop every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after his junior classes at the university. He served sweetly tart, yet overpriced yogurt that came in colorful flavors. He sprinkled fresh, delicious toppings and argued with his coworker about the fact they couldn’t play his death metal music on the speakers because they couldn’t have songs like Maze of Torment and Lord of All Fevers and Plague playing in a friggin’ frozen yogurt shop.

It was just past three in the afternoon on that fateful Friday. Murphy was wiping the counter for the nth time in boredom when he came in.

By he, Murphy means, perfection in human form. Pygmalion would have ditched Galatea and gone gay for him - if he wasn’t already. You could never know with those ancient Greeks. Michelangelo would have looked at David and thought, ‘What was I smoking last night?’ That was all the references Murphy had, since that was all Murphy paid attention to during his sophomore History class. Basically – god damn, he was hot.

He had a small smile on his face as his warm hazel eyes looked around their colorful frozen yogurt shop. He was wearing his university jacket, and beneath the school emblem Murphy read, 'Track & Field’. Murphy instantly noticed from the school emblem that he was studying at his university’s bitter rival – but Murphy was more than ready to wave a flag and defect at the sight of him.

He wanted to run his hand through his thick, black  hair. He wanted to feel what those cheekbones felt underneath his thumbs and he wanted to see those light scatter of freckles on the bridge of his nose up close.

Murphy wanted to do a lot of things to him, and he subsequently wanted the guy to do a lot of things back to him, so many that Murphy couldn’t possibly dare say them aloud. But the only thing Murphy ended up doing was letting out a high squeak right before ducking behind the counter. He pulled his knees close to his chest as he  around for his coworker. Where was he?

Keep reading

Preference #89 Attending A Friend’s Wedding


Carrying a bunch of groceries, you stumbled into the apartment you shared with Niall. As you were about to greet him, you heard the familiar Irish accent booming in the living room and into the phone. “Wow man, congratulations! I mean, how great! Oh yeah, of course we’ll be there. Speaking of her, she’s here, mate! Got to go, see you!” he said on the handheld, making his way towards you. “Babe, Bill’s getting married!” Bill was one of Niall’s Irish golf buddies and they often spent time together when he was on break from work.
You put the large paper bags on the kitchen counter sighing in relief. “Oh, wow,” you said in reply.
“Well it’s in two day and I want you to come with me as my date, please?” Niall pleaded, making puppy eyes.
Only a short two days later, you found yourself at the reception with Niall by your side.
“Princess, let’s dance!” Niall invited, as he pulled your hand and made your way to the slippery dance floor. You were dancing and drinking the night away with Niall. Having a bit of alcohol running through your veins, you let loose, and soon you were on the dance floor dancing in a rather embarrassing manner. You and Niall created a little dance circle and everybody joined in. The guests and the couple were amused by the fun you two brought. Let’s just say, you had a bit too much fun, security had to drive you both home by the end of the night.

The sand crawled in between your toes and the breeze blew your hair as you and Liam were dancing on the beach at Caitlyn and Kyle’s wedding, high-school sweethearts whom Liam and you were great friends of. The organizer called everyone’s attention, gesturing for all the bridesmaids and groomsmen to gather around. It was that time of the celebration, when the bride threw her fresh bouquet of flowers. All the other guests counted in anticipation, as Caitlyn sent her bouquet flying to the single ladies behind her. Startled, you look up to see the bouquet going your direction. You put your arms up in instinct and caught it. Gasps and cheers were exchanged towards you. Next, Kyle removed the garter from his bride and threw it to the male guests. To your surprise, Liam caught the garter. Giggles and compliments erupted from the crowd as Liam knelt in front of you and place the garter on your leg.
“Hey love,” Liam greeted awkwardly causing you to erupt in a fit of laughter. The newly-weds and guests laughed along, and soon you heard Caitlyn speak up.
“Look at them they’re so perfect, when are you two getting married?”
The groom quickly interjected, screaming, “Someone’s gonna get some tonight!” The crowd roared even louder, causing you to go red in the face. Liam blushed as well, giving you a quick peck on the cheek.

You and Louis were the reason why your best friend, Ellie and her boyfriend, Stan got together. Not so long ago, you and your boyfriend played matchmaker, involving both of your single and lonely best friends. Neither of you ever expected for them to become a couple, let alone get married so quickly. And to thank both of you, you were named as the maid of honor, while Louis was given the role of Stan’s best man. After the traditional ceremony, the visitors sped off to the reception. The afternoon transitioned into night swiftly and as it went on, it became gradually more fun. Being not only the ‘masterminds’ of the newly-weds’, but the spontaneous couple you were, you and Louis prepared something funny, yet sentimental for the both of them.
People were just starting to occupy the grand dance floor when Louis got to the stage. You were on the other side, instructing the technical team while handing them a CD to play. Once it was all settled, you jumped on the platform and stood beside Louis. You waited for the music to stop completely and soon, you were tapping the spoon on the delicate glass to catch everybody’s attention. The room silenced and all eyes were on Louis and you.
“Hey!” Louis greeted, waving a hand into the air. “For those who do not know, my lovely girlfriend and I are actually the reason why these two sore losers are even together in the first place.” You laughed and shook your head at Louis’ comment as the guests began laughing as well.  
“And, as a special something for these two, we made you both this video!” you continued, as you pointed to the screen behind you. The video was soon playing, with cute baby to awkward teen years of Ellie and Stan. Louis and you also went the extra mile and got a few family and friends, especially those who couldn’t make it, to give a short message to the couple. By the end of the video, Ellie approached you, with a tear-stained face thanking you while Stan also mouthed a heart-felt ‘thanks’ to his best mate.

You were a huge fan of weddings; you were a sucker for anything romantic of the sort. So when Harry asked you to be his date for his friend, Mark’s wedding, you were quick to agree. During the ceremony, you kept quiet, eyes completely glued to the couple as they said their vows. You didn’t know you were tearing up until Harry chuckled softly and said, “Y/N, babe, you okay there?”
You sniffled and wiped the tears rolling down your face. “Hey, don’t laugh!” you said as you gently slapped your boyfriend. “It’s just so wonderful how much love they have for each other…like the way they look into each other’s eyes with such, such adoration.”
Harry grinned at your silliness and simply planted a kiss on the top of your head. “That’ll be us someday, love. Hold on,” he mumbled, not intending for you to hear, but you did. And with that, you wrapped your arms around his waist. You watched intently at the couple who held each other’s hand and kissed. Tears streamed down your face as you thought about your blooming relationship with the curly-haired guy you were hugging. You were lucky enough to be dating him but if ever that time comes, you couldn’t wait for a big white wedding of your own with the man you loved the most, Harry.

Requested by anon!

Written with the amazing help of: miss-manila

[Jack Maynard] Ready To Be a Parent

 This is in a little bit of a different format for writing, but I immediately fell in love with it. [Kind of inspired by Life In My Stomach by B-Mike.]

Listen to either Yuna - Mermaid or Still In My Blood - Zara Larsson.

i. It all started when you had woken up, Jack’s arms around you, and you sudden had one of the worst urges to throw up. You ran to the bathroom, sitting at the toilet for the remainder of the morning. Yes, you’d immediately had pregnancy theories, as it was your worst fear. Jack had told you he woke up to the sound, that as he called it, “the coughing and hacking of your insides escaping,” which was a little graphic, but it was true. Your throat and lungs hurt from coughing and heaving, so it wasn’t too far off from the truth.

ii. Jack immediately asked you what he could do to help, knowing if anything bothered you most, it was puking. You told him to run to the drugstore, get some over-the-counter sickness relief, and a pregnancy test. His eyes had widened at the request, shaking his head and reminding you that you couldn’t be pregnant. When he came back, you finally got enough strength and endurance to get up from the ground, and you quickly took the medicine. He slowly, warily handed you the pregnancy test, and you could see how tense he was. He quickly left the room.

iii. You looked at the small, pink, parallel lines on the test. Your hands started to shake. You knew these weren’t always right, but if you had morning sickness, and it all matched, it was probably true. You let a single tear drift down your cheek. You were going to be a mother. You aren’t a kid anymore, and neither is Jack. He knew that one thing was for sure; you would never abort. He knew that from the minute you two started dating and thinking about a future with children. However, as a young 21-year-old, he didn’t think he was ready. After all, he’s still a kid himself.

iv. Two weeks later, you went to the obstetrician for the first time, and he told you that you were two months along, as morning sickness started around 6 weeks of pregnancy. Jack was tense, and would often look away, whenever your doctor was talking. During the ultrasound, where you could make out a small speck, Jack didn’t particularly find it beautiful. After that visit, Jack would never stay home. He was out with Conor and the guys, getting wasted and coming home, a physical and emotional wreck.

v. You tried to talk to Jack, however, he never would answer. He would just snap off at you, and you were too easily affected by him, so you left it there. He told Conor, and Conor didn’t touch much on the subject either. Jack made videos in his extra time, not even bothering to make an effort with you anymore. You would cry into yours and his bed, smothering your face into the pillow, wishing this was all over. You cried yourself to sleep, figuring Jack was planning to leave you and the baby. One time, one time, he caught you crying, he was slightly tipsy, and he laid down next to you, his arms wrapping around you, and his warm hands gently rubbed the flat stomach where a small baby was. “Don’t cry,” he said softly, in the dead of night, “I’m here. I always will be.”

vi. You had told your family. Your mother was beyond angry, calling you a disgrace for having a child so early. She said that you could not take care of a child, and made you regret everything you’ve ever done in your life. Your dad was kinder, but only a bit. He made a small lecture, telling you that you need to think carefully before you do these things, mentioning sex. You had thanked him, before hanging up, and breaking out in sobs.

vii. Four months had passed, and you were taking prenatal vitamins, and visiting your doctor regularly, without Jack. You and Jack still lived together, however you had moved into a different bed, and almost completely ignored each other. You didn’t know that it ate him up inside. Everytime he saw you, the small bump on your body, and your hands caressing his child, whispering sweet nothings, it killed him. He wasn’t ready, and figured drinking too much and sleeping all day would remove the problem.

viii. You and Jack had gotten into an argument, and it was heated. You had gotten mad, everything tearing your mind and spilling out. “Why aren’t you acting like a father?! It’s your fucking kid, too, Jack! I’ve done this alone, dealing with you drunk all the time, and you won’t even stay sober for a day without us bickering.” his face dropped, realizing all you said was true, and he looked down, his fists unraveling and his gaze becoming saddened. “I’m not ready, I just can’t imagine myself as a father. I’m-I’m sorry. I just-” he sighed, cutting off his sentence, before he came close to you, just holding you in his arms. He whispered “I’m so fucking sorry,” into your hair, as he kissed your forehead, his hands gently rubbing over your stomach.

ix. Jack, from then on, stopped drinking, and was constantly helping, telling you to sit down whenever you did something that was still easy, even during pregnancy. You were slowly letting down the walls you put up earlier, and Jack was proving that he could change. Your favorite moment that pulled out your heartstrings was when Jack thought you were asleep, he moved your shirt up a bit, just enough to see your belly. You kept the facade going, curious as to what he was going to do. His hand gently rubbed your stomach, and he left a light kiss. “I’m going to be your daddy, well I am your daddy. But I promise, I will take care of you, and I will try my best to make this up to you.” 

x.  Months were passing like seconds. Seven months, eight months, nine months. Your feet were swollen, your maternity clothes even feeling tight. You were scared to death that Jack wouldn’t be there for your birth; upon your worries, Jack dedicated every moment he could to being with you. Jack was excited to not only have the baby, to know if he was having a son or daughter. You’d decided to keep it a secret, as it was your decision because Jack wasn’t there.

xi. It was early in the morning, barely light outside, Jack was holding you in his arms, his hands laid out over your stomach, when you felt a wetness between your legs. You figured you’d wet the bed, which Jack surprisingly never minded, as he decided it was a natural part of pregnancy. But what you realized, when you unwrapped Jack’s arms from you, was that it was not pee. It was your water. Your water broke. 

xii. Contractions were hitting you like never before, after being in labor for more than enough hours. They’d given you an epidural, but it didn’t do much, considering your pain levels were at a very high level. You were squeezing Jack’s hand, making sure he knew what he was getting into, as the doctor gave you 1, 2, 3′s, and ordering a few more pushes. “I can see the head! Two more pushes,” your face was red and strained, and Jack was doing everything he could to help, “come on, one more,” You pushed one last time, before you heard the crying of a small baby. Your baby.

xiii. Your baby was covered, grossly, in your insides, but neither Jack or you cared. “Congratulations, it’s a girl.” the doctor said, and they quickly swaddled the crying baby in a blanket, and the nurse handed her to Jack. You noticed tears were in his eyes as he cradled her, his gaze stuck to her, his body swaying slightly. “She’s so beautiful,” he said, holding back tears. After a second, he looked at you, almost silently asking you if you wanted to hold her of if you were too tired. You nodded, and he safely transferred your daughter into your arms. You glanced at her, she looked just like Jack, without a nose ring and dyed hair. “Hi baby,” you said, giggling lightly, “welcome to the world. I’m your mommy, and this is your daddy.” You kissed her forehead, not caring about your goop on her forehead. “I love you,” you looked up at Jack, a loving gaze covering your face, and he replied, “I love you too, so much, and our daughter.”

[this was shit srry]