defense curl

anonymous asked:

Hi! Could u write a fic where Lance is asthmatic and catches a cold that's been passed through the team? They got over it quickly, but it hits Lance really hard. Everyone thinks he's exaggerating for sympathy so they ignore him. Lance tries to take care of himself but it turns into a bad chest infection. When he shows up to a meeting all feverish and wheezy and coughing nonstop, the team finally realize something's wrong

(wOW I love this prompt?? Like this was lower down on my to do list but I brought it up because of s3 and the hype and also I couldn’t wait to write it..this is so good thanks anon!! sorry if this is medically inaccurate!!)

Lance’s space adventures taught him many things, but one of the many things he had definitely learnt was that he didn’t know a lot of things. The universe was far more vast, diverse and complicated than he could ever had fathomed, and at times Lance questioned everything he once knew.

One thing he still knew for sure, is that he was extremely adaptable.

If Lance was part of the X Men (which in his opinion, was just as cool as flying a robotic lion), he was definitely Darwin. He adjusted pretty well to the Garrison, despite being many miles away from the family he loved very deeply. Things were constantly tossed and yanked away from him, and he bounced back pretty quick.

It wasn’t easy, definitely, but Lance worked hard and put a 100% in everything he did. Of course he still felt he wasn’t good enough, and that he could work into being more, but he could be slightly assured that what he had done was all he could have in that moment in time. It was one of the only things he prided himself in and held dear to his identity.

Lance constantly had a flaming passion, this fiery desire burning in his heart to be a hero and to do good for others. He wanted to look out for the little guy, inspired by his young nephews and nieces to be the guy that people wanted to look up to. Hope that people would turn to in the darkest of times. He had promised his family he would always be protecting them from harm, and he vowed to himself to do all in his power to do so.

But of course, he had to work through trials and tribulations. Life was not easy, and not everything he wanted could necessarily be what he got, but he’d try.

One of the obstacles he faced in his journey was asthma.

He’d had it for as long as he could remember, and it was a irritating when it interrupted his daily life, but since he’d always had it it was pretty normal for him. Sure, it weakened his immune system, made illnesses hit him a little harder than the average, make him carry around inhalers everywhere and be a little more careful and cautious than everyone else, but Lance would not let it get in the way of his dreams and not let it hold him back from doing what he wanted.

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Part 3: Philosophy

Summary: While waiting for Joan, the sides and Thomas theorize about things.


Previous Chapters:  Prologue  Part 1  Part 2

Thomas walked Joan to the door. When they got there, Joan turned and looked up at Thomas, who was still feeling more than a little shaken up. 

“Hey. You okay?” they asked. 

Thomas made a face, glancing over his shoulder, but the sides had retreated back to the couch and he couldn’t see them anymore. “I guess so?” he said, raking his hand through his hair again. “I mean…I’m feeling a little better now that I know you see them too, but I’m not sure what it means for the both of us. You know?” 

“I really do.” Joan smirked, then shrugged. “But I mean, what else can we do but roll with it?” 

“You sound like Logan,” Thomas said. “It’s happening, so let’s move forward from here.” 

“Logan is a smart guy,” Joan agreed, patting Thomas on the shoulder. “You should listen to him.” 

Thomas chuckled, then grabbed Joan’s hand on impulse and clutched it for a moment. “You’ll come right back?” he said. “Promise?” 

“Yes, I promise, Thomas,” Joan assured him. “Hey. It’s gonna be cool. Okay?” 

“Yeah. I guess. Okay.” 

He watched as his friend climbed into their car and pulled out of the apartment’s parking lot, then turned and headed reluctantly back inside. 

Now that he knew the sides were really there, he was feeling…oddly self-conscious about the whole thing. These were his characters–parts that he’d played for over a year now. And they were here, in his apartment. He doubted he could’ve been more gobsmacked if all his favorite Disney characters suddenly came to life and started asking for coffee. 

He rounded the corner and there they were, still solid as ever, sitting on his sectional couch. At least I have a big couch? Thomas thought, then bit back an insane urge to giggle. He wasn’t sure it wouldn’t turn hysterical if he did. 

The sides all looked up at him, and he flushed under their combined scrutiny. “Uh…do you…do you guys need anything? Drinks, or…or anything…?” 

“Drinks might be good!” Patton said, climbing to his feet. “Let me help you with them, huh?” 

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Uhh, a Reddie soulmate fic?

Based on this post I made, some people wanted me to write it out, so I am! Here’s the first one with RichiexEddie, and I plan on doing the other 2 soon. It’s not very well written oops but hey it’s my best shot at sitting down for an hour??????? It’s also longer than intended so oops???????

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Enchanted // Moon Bin


the prompt: may I please request the mermaid/enchanted voice au with Moonbin of Astro??
(from this au) “I’m a mermaid/merman, and you’ve fallen in love with my voice. How do I break it to you that you don’t actually love me, you’re just enchanted?”

words: 3922

category: fluff + angst

author note: have you guys heard the new astro songs yet? the aroha song is so sweet! for this scenario i decided to make moonbin the mermaid rather than the reader, which i feel like was the best decision bc now i’m in love with this mermaid au. also, i might do a spin-off of this for eunwoo?? or a sequel for bin?? probably both?? anyway, pls enjoy merman bin~

- destinee

Originally posted by starryeunwoo

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Klance High School!AU wherein Lance tries to pick Keith up (scientifically speaking)

How was all this supposed to work again?

Lance fiddled with the Bunsen burner, hoping he wouldn’t blow anything up in the process.

“You’re supposed to turn the gas on first, genius,” came a cranky voice to his left. His eyes flicked off to the side and he finally noticed his lab partner slinking into class late, hunched over and looking like he was trying to disappear behind the lab bench.

“You’re supposed to show up for class on time, genius,” Lance bit back. Well, they were off to a great start.

The mysterious lab partner had no retort to that, opting to scoff just loudly enough for only Lance to hear.

“Hey, fuck you, buddy–” Lance’s eyes finally landed on the guy sitting next to him, and holy fucking shit, he was pretty. Sure, he was scowling and he was giving off “stay the hell away from me” vibes like he had to supply enough for the entire universe, but his skin was like porcelain and his eyes were the most beautiful violet Lance had ever seen.

Lance hadn’t even realised he trailed off until a dark eyebrow arched upward in confusion. “Yeah?” the guy challenged.

Lance cleared his throat and got the Bunsen burner lit. “Well, would ya look at that? You lit my fire.” He waggled his eyebrows at his lab partner, whose expression grew increasingly puzzled.


“So, you come here often?” Lance tried to assume some kind of casual posture and only succeeded in almost igniting his elbow. He cleared his throat again and leaned a little closer to his lab partner, who was already attempting to ignore him and focus on following their lab instructions. He started mixing the solutions that needed to be heated.

“Uh, this is our first class, so…”

“Right. So uh, you must be a hypotonic solution.”

The dark-haired boy stared at him blankly, beakers poised motionless in his hands.

“‘Cause, y’know, you’ve just increased my turgor pressure,” he finished with a wink.

“Uh, I think we should focus on the lab here. We’re supposed to identify the anions based on–”

“Boy, don’t you worry, I’ll be keeping anion your fine behind!”

By now, there were some mildly interested twitters from their classmates, who clearly had nothing better to do than eavesdrop on the conversation. Lance could feel the way Hunk and Pidge failed at containing their snickers from halfway across the lab. Traitors. If only Garrett and Gunderson could’ve been closer to McClain in the alphabet, then maybe Lance could’ve had one of them for a lab partner and not this cute but prickly kid with bad hair and a nice face.

Who was totally not going for any of Lance’s advances…

“Uh, I… thought we were just gonna mix these solutions, get the reactions going, aim for an A and leave?”

Lance waved a flippant hand in the guy’s direction.

“Sure, babe, but I think you’ve already got some reactions going in my–”

“LANCE!” Shiro warned with a harsh note of exasperation from the bench behind them. Oh, right, Shiro was their upper year student tutor for the class, and he was sitting right there supervising them all while their chemistry teacher popped out of the room to replace… stuff.

“Relax, Shiro, I’m just making friends! See, this guy–”


“See, Keith and I–wait, your name is Keith? What kind of name is that?”

His lab partner crossed his arms defensively and frowned, curling into himself and looking like he regretted supplying his name in the first place. “I don’t know, it’s not like I picked it.”

“Fair enough. Anyway, Keith and I are just science bros. You know, we get some chemistry going on, then I invite him over later to do some hardcore physics with our biology–”

Shiro opened his mouth, probably to reprimand Lance again, but they both froze at the sound filling the room. It was laughter, kind of rough and perhaps unused, but melodic and lovely all the same.

Keith was laughing.

Lance did that. He couldn’t help puffing up a little at the thought.

“Oh my God, you… I can’t believe…” Keith gasped out between guffaws. Lance winked at him.

“It’s okay to be breathless, I have that effect on people.”

Keith swatted at his arm but stopped himself short of actually making contact. “You’re such a moron!” he cried, but he was still laughing and his eyes were watering a little, drops of moisture catching the light on his long, dark eyelashes. Lance’s heart rate picked up more than he’d like to admit.

“Now can I be your derivative so I can lie tangent to your curves?”

Keith rolled his eyes but he was still smiling as he poured another carefully-measured reagent into their test tube over the Bunsen burner.

“Maybe you should consider being co-linear so you can just touch me all over?”

If Lance had anything in his mouth, he would have had an incredibly unfortunate spit-take. As it was, Shiro looked positively scandalized and it made a wicked sense of glee rise up in Lance’s chest.

“So after school today, I think we have a lot of bonding to do, don’t you?”

Keith looked away coyly but Lance could see the colour staining his cheeks. His already inflated ego was blooming at the sight.

Pidge and Hunk could be heard groaning from their lab bench. Pidge was staring at their precipitate as if contemplating drinking the nasty chemical sludge to spare her Lance’s antics. Hunk was rubbing patient, soothing circles on her back.

Shiro finally barked out, “McClain, Kogane! Detention this afternoon. DO NOT show up together, and keep your damn hands to yourselves!”

I freaking loved high school science. Math I was not as fond of, but I still enjoyed some classic calculus humour. I imagine that Keith would probably not be super warm on initial meetings but he’d crack under Lance’s antics (I mean, who wouldn’t? He’d be the cutest class clown) sooner or later. Maybe it doesn’t seem 100% in character, but that’s the beauty of an AU–we get to explore characterization in settings that allow the same character to follow a different path and perhaps the influences from their environment can really shape their final character development and relationships with other people.

Lance is the cutest nerd. He may not get the highest marks, but what matters is how much he engages with stuff and how much fun he has with it. <3

Happy Lance Month!

Divided: Part 20

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Steve x Reader

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1832

Summary: Your journey with T’Challa takes an unexpected turn as he causes you to question things about your relationship and yourself. 

Authors Note:  I am still technically on hiatus for one more week until my sister’s wedding is over, but I had a bit of time today and figured that you guys might enjoy this. Plus I’ve been feeling like shit and could use a small confidence boost before the wedding. <3  I always love hearing from you all, so drop a line with thoughts or predictions!  Tagging is open, just ask, if you are on my tag list and your username has changed PLEASE let me know!

Divided: 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 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19

“You’re never going to find him.” You snarl, your arms crossed against the thick leather belt that held you against the chair. “Do you ever stop talking?” T’Challa rolls his eyes in front of you, his fingers flexing in annoyance as they curl tighter around the steering stick.

“Nope.” You pop your lips, the sound making him wince slightly, “Better get used to it T.C. You’re the one that pulled me from my team and dragged me on your wild goose chase. You can let me off anytime…” You taunt, narrowing your eyes in annoyance.

He refuses to acknowledge you, his gaze darting briefly to the radar as he flies slightly to the left, correcting his course. “Come on T.C. we’ve been screwing around in the air for hours now. I know for a fact it does not take this long to get to Wakanda.”

He smiles slightly, biting his lip as you suddenly start with surprise. “We’re… we’re not going to Wakanda… are we?” You ask in confusion, your brow furrowing slightly at him, his silence causing your heart to beat faster, each thump echoing in your ears.

“Then where… where are we going?” You feverishly glance around through the windows of the cockpit, trying to get your bearings but all you see is black as the rain whips along the outside.

T’Challa smiles slightly, as if he knows something you don’t, “I don’t know yet.” T’Challa speaks slowly, his patience waning as he stares at the radar screen. Suddenly a large area of the radar becomes illuminated as you hear a deafening rumble from below.

“What is that?” You search wildly for answers as you try to look out through the darkened windows of the small jet, but you are unable to see anything but the black sea. T’Challa reacts quickly, causing the plane to tumble sharply to the right, turning at a tight angle to skirt along the sea, shaking with turbulence under the full force of the storm.

“What are you doing!?” You yell, gripping onto the leather straps as T’Challa lets out a slightly exhilarated laugh. “Finding out where we are going… wasn’t that your request?” He chuckles, explaining himself as if none of his flying technique was out of the ordinary.

You glance forward to see a large fortress rise from the ocean, as if it were a fabled sea monster rising beneath the surface, it’s iron jaws springing open to release a small helicopter before closing quickly as it descends back to its home in the depths of the black water.

T’Challa raises the jet slightly, elevating up to the clouds, quickly chasing the small helicopter. “Stark.” You breathe, reading the name emblazoned on the side of the chopper, “We’re following Stark?” You question as T’challa sinks the jet into the clouds, his eyes carefully watching the helicopter above.

“Oh come on… you could at least fucking answer me.” You huff, crossing your arms across your chest once more, your annoyance peaking at being ignored. There is a small flash of light in the distance below the chopper, a slight bit of movement ruffling over the roof of the jet, though nothing appears on the radar.

T’Challa moves quickly, tilting the jet directly upwards as he rolls into position, turning to follow the small streak in the air. “Stark… He knows something… He knows where we are going.” T’Challa affirms, finally providing you with some answers, however cryptic they were.

You sit there staring straight ahead in bewilderment as T’Challa flicks the controls, setting the plane to increase in speed as you follow the air current of Stark’s suit, keeping a safe distance.

“Why won’t you just listen to reason T’Challa. You are King now, your people rely on you, to lead them, to take care of them. But instead you gallivant off in chase of false vengeance?” You spit forward at the would be king, hoping to talk some sense into him.

“How much you think you know, but how little you understand, young arachnid. My father will not know rest until his murderer faces justice, it is my duty to see it done.” T’Challa speaks firmly, his tone biting as you recoil slightly at the sharpness of his tone.

You take a deep breath, your attitude returning in full force as you find your voice once again, never being one to lose it for long. “First off, how many times do I have to tell you? Bucky did not kill your father, it was this crazy guy who impersonated the psychiatrist, he has a plan to awaken these deadly assassins in…” You stop yourself before giving away the location, not wanting to aid T’Challa in his quest.

“He didn’t do it T’Challa, you’ll see I’m right in the end.” You finish, your voice losing its hostile tone, as you implore him to hear you. “And the second thing?” T’Challa asks quietly, requesting the latter part of your argument.

“The name is scorpion, not arachnid.” You speak firmly, declaring your title for his use. He nods, smiling slightly at your defiant tone.

“Ah, yes, the scorpion. Known for its stinger, dulling out critical hits from a small puncture wound.” He speaks softly, chuckling slightly to himself, “Tell me scorpion, is that the only reason for your title? Your exceptional ability with knives?” He raises an eyebrow.

You don’t respond, not knowing where he is going with the question, confused at T’Challa’s sudden desire to talk to you. “No.” He answers softly, responding to his own question, “I believe not. It is not just your deadly skill… it is your nature… to defend yourself; to attack.” He speaks slowly, his words swirling in your head as something tenses inside your chest.

You bite your lip, your eyes stinging slightly as tears prick at the back of them. Your fist curl into defensive balls as your shoulders roll back into a broad position. You couldn’t quite explain why T’Challa’s words were causing such a visceral reaction in you, or why his simple statement caused your stomach to twist into knots, but the dark truth of his words caused every hair on your body to stand on edge.

“I spoke once before about the story of the scorpion and the turtle. In my culture, we tell this to growing children when they reach the age where they begin to find themselves.” He takes a deep breath as you watch him, your shoulders tense, awaiting his lecture.

“One day a scorpion needed to cross a river, so it implores a turtle to please carry it across the river. At first, the turtle hesitates, unsure of whether or not to trust the scorpion, fearing that it might be stung.” He begins, you roll your eyes as he lectures you.

“The scorpion argues with the turtle, reasoning that if it was to sting him, then they would both drown… The turtle considers this, realizing the logic of the scorpion’s argument and agrees to carry the young scorpion across.” T’Challa speaks slowly, wanting every word to resonate with you.

“And let me guess,” you snarl, your anger flaring forcefully in your chest, “The scorpion stung the stupid turtle anyway.”

“Yes.” T’Challa said simply, “The scorpion stung the turtle, dooming them both. And when the turtle asked the scorpion why, do you know what it said?” You stay silent, knowing him well enough to predict that he was about to answer his own question.

“The Scorpion replies that it was in its nature to do so.” T’Challa falls silent, waiting to see the effect that the story had on you.

“So what? You’re saying that I am self-destructive? You’re not the first one to notice that T.C.” You snarl, your defenses rising again. “Besides the turtle should have been looking out for himself, you expect me to believe that his shell failed to shield him? Or that he was actually dumb enough to believe the scorpion?”

“You miss the point young one.” He interrupts you, recognizing the defensive tone in your voice, “The scorpion does not sting the turtle for self-destruction. The scorpion is fundamentally vicious… vicious in its nature… it will not change.” T’Challa finishes, falling silent once again, leaving you to think.

“So is it about me? Are you saying I’m vicious?” Your hostility rises as his insults sting inside of you, touching on nerves of truth that you subconsciously kept controlled.

“I’m not saying anything, Y/N. It’s just a story…” He smirks to himself as you sit behind him in silence. His words reverberating in your head.

Who was he talking about? What was he talking about? What all does he know? Your heart pounds quickly as your mind races, is he referring to what I did to Steve… how I hurt him, how I stung him? So if I am the scorpion… Then is Steve the turtle… Or is Bucky now the turtle? Your eyes squeeze shut, your head aching slightly with your swirling thoughts.

Is Bucky the scorpion? It would not be far off that T’Challa thinks him vicious…Why insist on telling me this story if there is no point to it? You glance through the window, noticing the terrain had changed in the time you had gotten lost in your swirling thoughts. The area outside had become mountainous, snow coating the ground and peaks of the rising crests.

“Where… where are we?” You ask, getting nervous at the sight of your new location. T’Challa does not answer you, remaining silent as he fiddles with the controls at his fingertips, his eyes never moving from the wind shield.

“T’Challa,” you speak more firmly, demanding him to answer you, “We are passing over western Russia at the moment.” He says quietly, paying careful attention to your quickening breath at his words.

He knows. He knows Bucky is in Siberia. “T’Challa,” You start slowly, knowing your hand had already been played for you. Your only hope now is to reason with him on your lover’s behalf.

“I am done listening to your arguments Y/N. I have heard your words and have weighed them against my evidence. They have been found wanting.” T’Challa speaks quickly, his tone calm, but assertive. “I will do you the service of taking him captive. Thus leaving him alive, and able to stand trial. This is all I will guarantee you.”

You sit silently, thinking through T’Challa’s offer, knowing at the least it was a guarantee of Bucky, remaining alive… T’Challa would give him a trial, he would see once and for all that Bucky was innocent, you were willing to take those odds.

You smile slightly, now understanding Natasha’s promise that she was doing you a favor. At the very least you had the guarantee of Bucky’s survival… Your stomach clenches as you suddenly realize how faint of a guarantee that was, knowing full well what Steve and Bucky had headed towards, hoping that Tony, T’Challa and yourself would be enough to help them.

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christmas skating

pairing: frank castle (the punisher) x reader

summary: reader takes frank to the ice skating rink, in which reader hurts their ankle, makes frank enjoy himself, and gets a slushie in the course of three (ish) hours

word count: 1,390

rating: i dont even think there’s cursing in this its actually super pure so like read to your contentment

a/n: hey. sorry for being inactive. school is a pain :( but this was supposed to be the first twelve day christmas thing but as i said school is a pain and im so sorry that im inconsistent and awful. also, would it be acceptable to write for buzzfeed unsolved??? would anyone read it??? please pm me to tell me or smth because i love those boys. enjoy.

The lights illuminated the rink with a warm glow, contrast to the bitter cold nipping at the exposed skin on both Frank and I. I let out a cold, shaky breath and shoved my hands deeper into my pockets as I walked along side him, guiding him to the rent-a-skate booth. One of his frigid hands almost scandalously found its way around my arm and into my warm jacket, making my chest pound with affection as he placed his hand over my heart. I grinned at Frank and leaned into him as we walked, my arm wrapping around his waist, a smile finding its way across his face. We reached the booth after a brisk walk through the park from his car, and after a brief check at my boots and his, we grabbed our skates and made our way over to a bench to lace them up.

“How do you actually tie these?” Frank asked.

“I… uh… I don’t actually know, hold on-“ I said, pulling out my phone. I pulled up a brief article and read through about half of it when Frank got down on one knee and started tying mine for me.

“What are you doing? I thought you’ve never been ice skating before?” I questioned.

“I haven’t,” Frank replied. “But they’re a lot like my boots at home. As long as they’re tied tightly, you’ll be fine.”

I sighed and put my phone away, dazed by his intelligence. I thanked him as he laced up the other boot, and he sat back down on the bench. I got up to get on the ice when I noticed he wasn’t following me.

“What are you doing, weirdo? The ice is over there.” I stated. He fiddled with some cracked pieces of wood on the worn bench. I waddled back over to him on my skates.

“It’s not good for the skates to be on this cement, y’know. It makes the blade dull.” I scolded.

He narrowed his voice down to a whisper. “I think it’s best if I stay here. I mean, there are a lot more people on that ice than over here, and what if you get recognized with me? Do you know what kind of negative publicity that might have on your life?”

I rolled my eyes and gave a charming smile. “Come on, Frankie. Would I really bring you out here to this public place if I was worried about being seen with you? It’ll be fine, I promise.”

Frank watched me. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, doll.”

“Now, when have I ever made a promise I couldn’t keep?”

Frank gave me a look.

“Okay, don’t answer that. But… please come with me? I know I’m really bad at ice skating but I want you to have a chance at a normal life. Er, at least, as normal as you can get for being on America’s Most Wanted and faking your death and also running from the police numerous times. Just… do this? For me?”

I gave my best kicked puppy impression, and it seemed to have worked, as frank extended his hand for me to help him onto the ice. I smiled widely at him and we wobbled our way onto the ice.

The railing I held onto the entire time was icy, even though there were many people clinging to it like their lives depended on it. Frank would chuckle and smirk every time I would almost fall, and then he would make his way in front of me to help me balance myself out. Towards the end of the night, Frank had nearly mastered the art of skating without holding onto the railing. Though, he was still reluctant to go into the middle, and elected to stay by my side. The cold wind didn’t make for ideal skating conditions. My hand grasped Frank’s. Warmth surged throughout my body. I felt the warm rush through my cheeks as well, and I thought it was noticeable until I realized everyone had red cheeks. I had never been more thankful for the cold.

The amount of ice I had managed to pick up on my knees and ass was almost laughable, and Frank took great pleasure in wiping it off. After one particularly nasty fall on my end, Frank and I (but mostly me) had decided to call it a night. He helped me hobble to the Rent-A-Skate booth where both of our boots were returned by a scared looking teenager. He stuttered out a, “Have a nice night!” And then retreated into the back, despite the long line of people waiting to return their skates.

“Whelp, guess you’ve been recognized. It’s only once tonight though, which is better than most, right?”

Frank smiled at me, “Yes. He might not have recognized me, though. He might’ve just found the knife in my boot.”

I smiled wide at the chance to make a joke. “There’s a snake in mah boot!” I cried out, which resulted in a soft laugh and a shake of a head from Frank. I clutched frank’s hand on our way back to the car, but something I saw out of the corner of my eye made me stop in my tracks.

“Frank! Oh my gosh, look!” I cried, and he immediately went into defense mode. His hand curled around my waist a little tighter than it had been before, and his hand found its way to his pocket, coincidentally where his holster rested underneath his jacket.

“What? What happened?” He asked, concerned.

“They have hot chocolate! And slushies! Ooh! Hot cookies! Oh my lord, come on, Frank! They’ve already probably run out of the cookies, but I’m sure we can get our hands on some hot chocolate!”

Frank let out a small sigh of relief, and allowed himself to be led by me to the concessions booth. He and I waited yet again in another painfully long line for hot beverages and other confections. Frank waited without complaint, only talking to point out a lovely red bird in a tree I wouldn’t have seen otherwise. We perused the menu before we got to the cashier, but when we did, Frank ordered for me. He got a hot coffee for himself, and went to order me a hot chocolate, when I told the girl at the window I wanted a slushie. Frank gave me a confused look, and I pulled out my wallet as the girl walked away to prepare the coffee and slush. Frank gave me a confounded expression as he pulled out his walled and ushered me to put mine away. I put up a small fight, but when the woman came back, Frank has already shoved his card into her hand by the time at I noticed, so with fake dejection, I put my wallet back into my pocket.

“You didn’t have to do that, Frank. You paid for the skates as well, didn’t you? Next time we go somewhere, I’m paying, okay?” Frank grabbed both of our drinks from the woman who gave him his card back and he thanked her before he answered me, “If you can beat me to it.”

He placed his card back into his wallet once he had given me my slush. Then, I was guided back to the bench we sat on when we first arrived, taking a seat cozily next to Frank.

He glanced at me with a dubious look on his face. Frank let out a small chuckle and shook his head incredulously as I sipped on my slush. With my hands clutching the cold cup, I looked back at him.

“What?” I questioned. He held his bare hands up defensively, one of them holding a warm coffee.

“Nothin’,” he replied, “I just don’t get how you drink something so cold when you’re already this cold,” he stated, gesturing to my many layers. “I really don’t.” A close lipped smile spread across his face.

I smiled at the opportunity to be cheesy, “Well I don’t need to worry about being cold, do I?”

Frank offered a confused look.

“I have you to keep me warm,” I grinned, scooting closer to him and resting my head on his shoulder. He switched his coffee into his cold hand and patted my cheek with his warm one, and I smiled.

111- Defense Curl

Normal Type: Protection. A spell to keep you safe from harm as you pass through a potentially dangerous place.

What You’ll Need~

  • Some kind of sphere
  • Mint
  • Water
  • A freezer
  • A container


  1. Use a round object, preferably small and made of a hard material. This represents you.
  2. Rub mint on the surface of your sphere. This is to establish the aura of protection around yourself.
  3. Place your ball into a container full of water, and at this point say “From freezing point to when you thaw, I am protected, and will be safe from all harm…” you can finish this sentence with ‘as I pass through (area or scenario of concern.)’
  4. Place in your freezer. When you no longer need the spell, take out your container and let the water in it melt, freeing your sphere, and ending the spell.


  • As usual, you should use an object that will properly represent you.
  • This spell does not have to be used exclusively on physical places.
  • Also, this is not a tip, but typing the word “sphere” over and over again is really weird.
Package Deal

Seth Clearwater imagine requested by casismyguardianangel! “Could I get Seth/Imprint!Reader please? They’re hanging out & Seth just starts tickling her & after a while he kisses her, & just when they start getting into it the pack comes in & starts teasing him that he can’t leave her alone? Love the blog!” Hope you like it!

It was difficult to be beside Seth and feel the full weight of the clouds looming overhead; he was the human incarnation of sunlight, of fire. His warmth radiated through his palms and over your skin like smooth stones warmed by the afternoon’s heat, his smile tore through the overcast skies above, banishing the oncoming rain… if only for a little while. His skin was drenched in golden light as the sun set over the silvery waters, bursting forth through the clouds as it descended over the sea. The storming breeze blew the easy scent of salt over your cheeks in course waves, stirring strands of hair about your face, tendrils brushing against Seth’s exposed shoulder, his eyes catching yours at the contact. He was practically glowing beneath the sun’s shimmering light, his eyes sparkling with mischievous humour as he caught a straying strand of hair between his index finger and thumb. He reached behind your ear, tucking the hair back into place, his lips pressing gently to your cheek. What little gooseflesh you had accumulated from the passing breeze was banished by Seth’s delectable heat, his kiss spreading through to your fingertips and toes. To him, it could have been the silliest, flimsiest, farthest from concrete gesture in the world, but to you… to you, it was everything. You sighed, resting your head against his shoulder, his arm winding around your waist in response. Easy.

It was simple being with Seth, especially after he’d decided to clue you in on why he suddenly spent his limited free-time walking beside you like a hulking shadow. Before, he was merely a force of childish joy, ever-present in your life, always eager and more than willing to brighten your day. You had your arguments and your reconciliations, your disagreements and fervent like-mindedness, but he was never… he was never this intense. After he phased, once his hair had been shorn and his temperature rose… well, once he came bouncing back to brighten your day, his world and yours became perfectly aligned. It was as if he was made to be your protector. His presence was limited now, what with his duties to the pack interfering with how frequently he could superglue himself to your hip, but what little time he spent bipedal, he spent with you. He was a presence glowing like embers, the flames of his companionship lapping around you gloriously. Just today, he’d slipped away from his rounds long enough to knock on your door and drag you down to First Beach, all but throwing you over his shoulder (it’s not like the weight of another human was much of a strain for him anymore, he made that very clear) as you struggled to keep up with his excited pace. He oftentimes forgot you were only human. He lead you to the bluffs overlooking the pebbles leading up to the shoreline, patting a relatively reed-free plot of sandy earth, beckoning you to join him. Your feet dangled over the ledge, your heels occasionally touching back against the wall of sand that held you over the shore.

With his arm around you, you’d never felt more secure. The bluffs could have given way and dumped you both onto the stones below, but somehow you knew Seth would keep you grounded. If you were to fall, you wouldn’t suffer a single scratch. That was in the contract, you supposed, when it came to imprinting. Eternal best friend, cheerful companion, shoulder to lean on when the world threatened to swallow you… Seth wouldn’t let anything hurt you, no questions or doubts in your mind. Even now, he sheltered you from the wind, his body (now heavily muscled) shielding yours from the worst of the off-sea breeze as it whipped around his side of the sandy hill. Your cheek burned still with the borrowed heat of Seth’s quick kiss, your skin blazing crimson from the contact. He’d never been one to shy away from the more intimate side of friendship, be it a lingering embrace, holding hands as you climbed over the forest’s carnage left after a storm, or even stealing a kiss on the cheek when he thought you were in a good enough mood not to chase him down for making the attempt. Lately, though, his every action seemed heavier, as if there was a weight to his movements that he fought to conceal from you. Protector or not, he maintained his mannerisms, but his change in structure had come paired with a noticeable difference. It wasn’t just in the way he moved, his eagerness to see you… it was in his hand as it clasped your waist, his head as it tilted towards yours on his shoulder, and it was in his kiss. It wasn’t the mischievous sort of peck he used to snag when the two of you were on the edge of an argument. It was far more.

“Y/n? You still alive in there?” Seth chuckled, waving his unoccupied hand before your face, his movement blocking out the sun in bursts of darkness and blinding light. When you lifted your face, disoriented, his laughter amplified. “You went glassy behind the eyes for a second. Thought I lost you,” he jested, his smile widening when you heaved your weight through his body, knocking him off-balance for a mere second. You knew he was humouring you, but it was satisfying nonetheless. “There she is,” he mumbled, his voice low on the wind and punctuated with softened laughter. “Just checking.” You rolled your eyes, leaning into his side much gentler this time around, allowing him to support your weight, his arm snaking back around your waist. You snuggled closer to him, inhaling the sweet scent of saltwater and cedar as it lifted from his skin, your eyes closing with contentment.

“I’m allowed to zone out for a while, Seth. Doesn’t mean I’m never coming back, just that my attention is somewhere else.” Seth huffed a sigh, his breath short and tainted by humour. You smiled at his dramatized reaction to your comment, the joking injury in his movement pulling your lips up at the corners. You buried your smile in the smooth expanse of his shoulder, your lips brushing against the warmth of his skin. He exhaled once more, shifting his weight until he could manage to clasp both of his hands around your waist, pulling you into his side.

“Never thought I’d have to fight with a beach for your attention,” he whispered, his voice springy with playfulness. You prepared your retort, but before you could speak, Seth was turning into you, abandoning the beauty of the sunset to focus on your face, his hands now clasped around your back. It was not uncomfortable, being close to him, but there was a warmth radiating from his eyes that had your nerves buzzing with anticipation. He sucked the air through his teeth, nodding his head in what appeared to be acceptance, his eyes closing as if wounded by his situation before they snapped open, locking on yours. “I’ll take the challenge.” He gave you but a second’s notice before he pounced, his hands spreading to either side of your body, finding purchase on your waist and over your ribs, activating your pressure points and fluttering over the skin his movement exposed. Your initial shriek of surprise soon melted into laughter as Seth’s hands tickled over your body, his devilish grin consuming your view, his eyes sparkling as your giggles filtered through the air. You collapsed in on yourself, your spine pressing into the stiffness of the reeds as you fought to defend your abdomen from Seth’s ruthless attacks. Your knees pressed upward to divide your bodies, but Seth quickly shifted his hips and blocked your last line of defense, his torso curling over yours as his hands moved like feathers over your exposed skin. You twisted and contorted to get away from him, your eyes watering from the force of your laughter, his own soon joining with yours, forming a joyful melody in the space above your heads.

His hands slowed then, smoothing over your waist before falling to the sun-baked grasses around you, your body heaving beneath him form the exertion of your defense. You caught your breath slowly, inhaling in quick bursts as you recovered. A single tear broke from the outermost corner of your eye to fall towards your temple. Seth’s expression shifted, his brow furrowing slightly as the sandy pad of his thumb lifted to your face, swiping the tear from its track, his palm molding to your cheek within the same heartbeat. Your cheeks glowed beneath him, both from your previous activity as well as from the heat building in your tightening chest. You watched Seth’s eyes darken as you’d never seen them before, a resolution setting like concrete somewhere far behind his irises. His tongue darted over his lips, his eyes shifting to stare down at your own, and he bent his face to yours. His lips pressed softly to your mouth, your world fuzzing at the edges before you had the sense to close your eyes. He enveloped you in warmth, his torso bending to meet yours as the combination of his lips and hands pulled your body from the earth. His hands secured you to his chest, your arms winding around his neck, your fingers trailing over the newly shorn hair at the back of his head. He broke from you then, his eyes glowing warmly, his lips parting over a victorious smile. You laughed aloud, your heart beating through the bones holding it in your chest, your hand smoothing over the wide plane of his cheekbone.

“Where did that come from?” you inquired, your voice breathy. Seth barely moved, save for the expansion of his already full-to-bursting joyful smile.

“Comes with the package,” he whispered, his lips already set to reunite with yours. Your hands cupped his cheeks, angling his face to mold to your own, his teeth nipping along your bottom lip as you clung to each other, heat flooding your brain as the sunlight flashed on the backdrop of your eyelids. You twisted in his arms, your lips parting from his to press to the curve of his jaw, his hands clenching as they roamed your back, his lips chasing yours until you were together once more. Even as absorbed as you were within Seth’s embrace, you couldn’t ignore the sound of yelling behind you. You pulled from his hold on you, turning around to address the shouting only to find the majority of the pack bursting from the edge of the forest, their mouths upturned at the sight of their brother locked at the lips with his imprint.

“Jesus, Seth, let the poor girl breathe,” Jared chuckled, his eyes rolling as Seth ran his hands through his hair, his eyes screaming apologies to yours.

“Relax, he’ll learn soon enough. You’ve gotta come up for air every now and then. Just like swimming,” Paul added, jogging closer to clap Seth on the back, winking in your direction. “Proud of you, little man.” Seth huffed at his pack-mate’s jokes, his eyes expectant on Jacob as he approached. He merely gave him a pat on the shoulder, noticeably gentler, averting his eyes as he continued on his way. They were gone as quickly as they had come, but they’d done their damage to the scene. Seth met your eyes with a sheepish embarrassment that lifted the laughter from your chest, your hand running through the short strands of his hair. He joined you, allowing you to climb into his lap and rest against his chest, your eyes on the last rays of sun as they dove beneath the surface of the ocean, his arms spreading warmth along your back. You rested, surrounded by fire and salt and cedar, until the world was no longer light.

keepitdreamin  asked:

Matt/Foggy 6 :)

YAY ty ty for the ask!  ❤ 

#6 - warm snuggly cable knit things


Foggy was the first to get up on Saturday morning, but then, he’d been the first to go to sleep, tucked up snug in bed while certain other parties had been out scampering around on rooftops. It had been well after three a.m. when the mattress had dipped and Matt slid between the sheets next to him.

“Good night?” Foggy had whispered. Rolling over, pulling Matt close, he’d begun his now-customary pat down without waiting for an answer, checking Matt over from tip to toe - skimming fingertips over his skull, running the flat of his palm over his shoulders and back, chest and stomach. Letting his feet do the poking and prodding when it came to Matt’s calves and ankles, then twining their legs together, all the while listening and looking, waiting for tell-tale hitches of breath or minute winces of pain.

“Good,” Matt had said. He hadn’t been shying away from Foggy’s touch, nor burrowing in worryingly, desperately close, either. He’d wrapped an arm around Foggy’s shoulder and sighed softly, nestling into his pillow, and Foggy had believed him.

The tip of Foggy’s nose was cold when he woke, and his feet curled up defensively the second they hit Matt’s floor. After scoring a pair of thick clean socks from the top dresser drawer - Matt didn’t stir, even when the wood squeaked - he headed straight for the living room, and the elderly relic of a radiator beneath the windows.

There had been other chilly mornings already that October, but this was the first time anyone had tried switching the radiator on, if the cramp Foggy got in his fingers from turning the stiff knob was anything to go by. The unit made a clunking noise that he thought-slash-hoped was a sign of burgeoning life and not mournful death, so he gave it a pat for good luck and let it be.

Next stop: the kitchen. Specifically: the cabinet containing the nectar of life. Foggy was just pulling down a box of jasmine green tea bags for Matt and a canister of Vienna roast for himself when a noise from the bedroom made him turn his head. A few seconds later, Matt appeared in the doorway. His face was the dictionary definition of affront, from his flared nostrils to his flat line of a mouth, and his hair looked like it had had a horrible fright - that part, though, was just the Murdock bedhead at work.

Keep reading

Forgotten Outlaw - Jason Todd x Reader

A/N: I’ll be honest I don’t watch a whole lot of Marvel so I kinda bsed the Marvel-ish part of this prompt. 

Prompt: I got this idea stuck in my head that maybe like blackmask bought Bizzaro, there could be another person, the reader, who is a former soldier presumed dead who was experimented on and has a metal arm (basically Bucky Barnes’ back story) and Jason finds her and helps her and they develop a friendship (then romance) and he helps her deal with the guilt and ptsd and her insecurities about the metal arm and she eventually becomes a vigilante

“Wait Red Him.” Bizzaro stopped suddenly as they were trying to escape Black Mask’s compound. Jason stopped in his track and internally groaned. What could possibly be the matter now?

“Seriously? We need to leave.” Jason pushed.

“First save Voice Her.” Bizzaro said before bounding off in the opposite direction. Jason had no choice but follow after him. They ran deeper and deeper into the compound and eventually came to a laboratory that was under lockdown. The doors were sealed shut with thick steel doors and giant padlocks. For a normal person, there was no getting through that door but Bizzaro was undeterred. He dug his fingers into the steel as if it were butter and yanked the door off of it’s hinges.

“Holy shit!” Jason called out, jumping out of the way of the door that Bizzaro just casually tossed aside.

The lab was filled to the brim with various equipment but his eye was immediately drawn to the center of the room where a woman lay strapped to a slab.

“Is this her? Is this Voice Her?” Jason asked,

“This Her.” Bizzaro responded. Jason nodded and pulled his knife out to cut through you binds. He lifted you up into his arms and motioned towards the clone that it was time to leave. Bizzaro ran ahead of Jason, making sure to take out anyone who got in his way. As soon as they were in the clear he took you to the Outlaws headquarters at Ma Gunn’s orphanage.

He set you down carefully in his bed and that’s when he noticed your arm for the first time. The coolness of your metal arm caught him off guard when he was pulling the covers over you. The appendage extended from your hand all the way up to your shoulder. Despite it looking completely solid it was clearly quite mobile.

Jason stayed by your side all night, making sure that you were alright but also making sure you didn’t run off and start causing havoc in the city. He didn’t know who you were so he needed to take every precaution.

When you woke up your eyes shot open and you immediately jumped out of bed and braced yourself in a defensive position, Your lip curled up in an animalistic snarl and you looked just about ready to rip Jason’s throat out.

“Who are you and where the fuck am I?” You demanded in a low growl. Jason raised his hands in defeat.

“Relax. I’m the one who saved you. I’m more than willing to take you back if that’s what you prefer.” He retorted  You lowered your guard but only slightly.

“Who are you?” You repeated, dropping your arms down to your side.

“Jason Todd. And you might be?”

“I don’t remember.” You frowned, your eyes going off into a distant world far from here for the briefest moments.

“Well whoever you are, you’re welcome to stay here until you’re back on your feet.” Jason said turning to leave the room to give you some privacy. He stopped in the doorway and turned back to ask a question that had been bugging him since he first saw you. “Bizzaro, the Superman clone, he calls you ‘Voice her’. Why is that?” He asked. You hesitated before answering but you figured the question was innocent enough.

“I-I used to sing when I was alone in my cell. Most days it was the only thing standing between me and madness. I think he liked to hear me sing. It comforted us both.” You said.

“You must have one hell of a voice.” He commented.

“Not really no.” You frowned and an awkward silence fell between you.

“Right. Well … make yourself at home. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” Jason replied awkwardly before leaving you alone in the room.

Over the next couple of days you remained holed up in the bedroom, only coming out when you needed to. Eventually you started spending more and more time around the Outlaws and they started to grow on you. You and Artemis became thick as thieves. With Bizzaro, you were a calming confidant. Sometimes you would sing to him when he asked you to.

Jason though … your relationship was a little more complicated. Some days you were friends, some days the two of you were constantly at each other’s throats, and other days you could swear that he looked at like he wanted more. You’re never quite sure where you stood with him. You and Jason did this ‘will they, won’t they?’ game for longer than you’d care to admit.

You joined up with the Outlaws shortly after they saved you and you had to admit that you worked well together. Slowly but surely your memories of your past life started filtering back to you in flashes. You still didn’t remember much but Jay helped you to sort through it all.

Apparently you were once a soldier once upon a time. You were caught in an explosion and lost your arm in the backfire. Things got fuzzy after that but you remember a grinning bald man promising a new life, a new arm. Then nothing until sirens are ringing in your ear and a man in a red mask cradled in his arms.

“Hey, are you alright?” Jason asked, catching you staring at your clenched metallic fist. Jason’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you lowered your arms to your side.

“I’m fine.” You said.

“Are you remembering more?” He asked.

“No, nothing.” You sighed. “I think I’m better off not knowing. There’s such a big gap in my memory. I don’t want to know what they did to me, Jason.” You admitted. Jason reached over and intertwined his hand with your artificial one. He lifted your clasped hands and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your hand.

“[Y/N] I know this shit is scary and I know whatever your brain is blocking out isn’t pleasant, but I’m here for you. For whatever you need.” Jason promised.

“Can you be honest with me right now, Jay?” You asked.

“Of course.”

“What is this … you know us?” You asked, tightening your grip on his hand. He winced ever so slightly at the strength of your inhuman hand. He tried to cover up his reaction but you saw and started to pull away. You hated that you couldn’t even get the simple things right. Jason’s hand caught yours before you could pull away.

“Hey, this is whatever you want it to be.” He reassured you. “And before you get caught up in your head, I don’t care about your arm or your past or whatever other reason you can possibly come up with.” He continued when he saw you open your mouth to argue with him.

“Really?” You asked. He smirked ever so slightly and cradled your cheeks in his hands before leaning in and pressing a soft tender kiss to your lips.

“Is that answer enough?” He whispered against your lips.

“I don’t know. I might need you to repeat yourself.” You said with a ghost of a smile playing at your lips.

“With pleasure.”

Live Wire: An Aftershocks Sequel- Part 3

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: PTSD, angst

Word Count: 2198

Summary: In the debrief after Romanoff’s capture and rescue, you find out some damaging information 

Authors Note:   If you have not read Aftershocks, please do, so you have the context and story for this sequel! I hope you guys like it, Enjoy!

My Masterlist

Live Wire: Part 1 Part 2

You stand there for a moment, remaining quiet in the elevator as the doors slide silently open. Bucky steps forward, moving out of the elevator in front of you. You stand there for a moment your sight of the hallway ahead of you narrowing slightly as you spot Steve and Wanda standing by the conference room door.

Their heads are inclined towards each other, quietly whispering to each other as smiles pull slyly across their faces. Wanda’s eyes flash up to Steve, delicately. Watching his mouth move gently as he whispers a response to her. They both jump at the sound of the bell as the doors slide open, their gaze quickly flashing towards Bucky’s emerging form.

Your heart pounds feverishly in your head as your vision tunnels slightly, your breath quickening as your fingers fumble to find the railing behind you, your body stuck against the elevator wall.

You feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand on edge as every muscle in your body tenses, your fight or flight responses falsely triggering as the adrenaline suddenly pulses through your system.

Your fingers grip firmly to the steel of the railing, the heat of your hands distorting your senses of the metal, making it feel as if it was molding to your grip.

“Hey,” Bucky whispers, turning around a few steps from the elevator as he notices you are not beside him. Wanda and Steve glance over at the sound of his voice, watching as he lightly jogs back to you.

“Y/N?” He whispers softly, coming to stand in front of you, your eyes still locked forward as you stare through him, the world around you spinning. “Doll?” He asks, concern heavy in his tone as his hand glides up to your jaw, forcing your gaze up to his.

You jerk roughly away from his touch, forcefully flattening against the elevator wall as you hear a small creak behind you. “I…” You stammer, blinking rapidly as you look at him, your heart still pounding in your head as you try desperately to make sense of the triggered responses flooding through your body.

Your gaze flips rapidly from his to those of a concerned Wanda and Steve watching onwards from a distance, unsure of what is occurring inside the elevator. You feel heat rise in your face as you search hurriedly for an exit, some way to deflect the attention from you.

“I… I’m uh… fine. Just zoned out.” You stammer as you duck beneath Bucky’s still outstretched arm. You force a throaty laugh as you step forward out of the elevator. Turning around you see Bucky still standing there, his gaze locked on the spot where your body had just been.

His eyes focused, unbeknownst to you, on the imprint your grip had left on the railing. He bites his lip nervously, reaching out quickly with his metal hand to firmly swipe a thumb across the distorted steel. Coughing loudly to distract from the sound of the smoothing metal. He turns quickly, following in your wake as the doors close behind him.  

You flip your hair as you hurry forward, smiling and waving at Wanda and Steve as you fight to steady your breathing, the tense grin cemented across your face.

You feel Bucky move behind you, his large presence catching up beside you as his hand rests gently on the small of your back, his lips pressing against your ear as he breathes “You’re a terrible liar, doll. If you don’t want to go to this meeting, you don’t have to.”

You had been arguing with Bucky for the better part of the morning on whether or not you should attend the incident debrief of your last mission.

The investigation into black widow’s capture had finally turned up more information, and the debrief was vital to future attack plans.

You roll your shoulders, shrugging off Bucky’s concern as you step forward to a smiling Wanda, falling stiffly into her hug as you fight to slow your pulse. “You ok? Are you sure you want to do this?” She asks softly, pulling back to look at you with genuine concern.

You feel a sharp twist in your abdomen at her soft words, looking quickly from her face to the two broad shouldered super soldiers standing around you, the same look of trepidation on all their faces.

You feel a small flare inside your chest, the indignant anger from your late-night sessions with the punching bag rearing its ugly head, causing your fingers to curl defensively against your hands, your fingernails digging into your slick palms.

“I’m fine.” You insist, with a bit more hostility in your voice than you had planned. Wanda’s face falls from worry to confusion as you roughly shrug out of her grip, turning towards the door behind you.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself for the quiet structure of the meeting, anything in there would be better than the pitying looks out here. You press your hand quietly to the keypad causing the door to slide open revealing a sizable crowd of people.

Everyone turns to look at you, a slight hush falling across the dull murmur of the crowd. You feel Steve’s looming presences behind you. His broad shoulders pushing forward into the room as he clears his throat, signaling to Maria Hill.

She nods and quickly calls everyone’s attention to the front of the room. You feel Bucky’s hand push at the small of your back as he guides you forward into a pair of chairs. Wanda slips in quickly on your other side, as Steve settles in next to her.

Maria begins with the debrief, disclosing to the crowd the nature and relevance of the assembly. “As most of you know we are here to discuss an incident that recently occurred on a routine rescue mission of an agent, Natasha Romanoff, Alias: Black Widow.”

There was a small murmur throughout the crowd as eyes fall on Natasha, situated in the front row, you breathe slightly easier, relieved to have the focus removed from you. “We are very happy to have you back and home safely, Agent Romanoff.” Maria inclines her head politely to Natasha who nods in acknowledgment.

Maria continued, holding the attention of the audience at the front of the room, “The mission was intended to be a routine search and rescue, but as we have come to discover, hydra’s forces are growing at an alarming rate. The security present in their safe hold alone was unlike anything we’ve seen previously, on such a heightened level that even Stark’s ‘code cracker’ was unable to infiltrate it.”

“And is that why an unauthorized and untrained agent was approved to enter into a combative zone under your watch Commander Hill?” Commander Ross stood in the back of the room, drawing all attention to him.

“Fuck.” Bucky growls quietly, his hand flying nervously to his hair as his metal fingers tense around your thigh.

“What’s wrong,” you whisper, turning to him quickly, “Who is that?” you ask, not recognizing the new speaker as a shield operative.

“Someone who really does not like me.” Bucky whispers, leaning forward to make concerned eye contact with Steve.

“He doesn’t really like any of us.” Wanda whispers, shaking her head as she hunches in her chair slightly.

“Commander Ross, I wasn’t aware that you would be attending this debrief.” Maria stands tall, speaking clearly as she acknowledges the source of the interruption.

“It seems there is a lot you are unaware of nowadays Maria.” Ross speaks slowly as he descends the steps, moving towards the front of the room to come stand by Maria, “That’s exactly why I’m here.”

He signals quickly to a young man in the front row who jumps quickly into action, connecting a tablet to the projector system as Ross continues speaking.  

“What you seem to be neglecting to mention in this disclosure is that this was anything but a… what did you call it? A routine retrieval mission?” Ross clicks his tongue, as if a father scolding a daughter as he advances on Hill. Your teeth clench at the sound, your hackles rising in dislike of this man.

“Excuse me?” Commander Hill responds, her eyebrows raising. You jump slightly as Grant Wards photo appears on the screen, his old shield ID card projected alongside an observation photo taken of him in the past few months.

You feel Bucky’s metal fingers tighten harshly around your thigh as your breathing hitches in your chest, your perception of the lights in the room distorting slightly.

“This is Ex Shield Agent, and Current Hydra General, Grant Ward.” Commander Ross speaks clearly to the general assembly, motioning towards the photographs on the screen. “He is responsible for the planned kidnapping and consequential capture of Agent Romanoff.”

“Commander Ross,” Maria clears her throat in announce, forcing Ross to focus on her, “this is precisely the point of this meeting, to discuss Ward as a threat and review the information that came from Romanoff’s recovery.”

“What you neglect to acknowledge Maria is that Agent Romanoff was simply used as bait, that Ward was not even present at the mission that resulted in Agent Romanoff’s capture.” Ross spits fervently at Maria Hill, as if in the middle of a game of poker and he had the winning hand.

The projection changes slides, your eyes reflexively flick up, only to fixate on the image in front of you. It was a photograph of you, standing in front of Bucky at the ice cream truck on the first date you had, the first day you kissed.

You feel Wanda and Steve’s eyes dart to you and Bucky as the heat rises in your face, your eyes glancing beside you at Bucky as his shoulders curl into a defensive posture, his lips drawn tightly together as his murderous gaze settles on Ross.

The projector flicks once more to show you both leaving the pizza shop, smiles stretched wide across both your faces as you stride happily in front of Bucky, not a care in the world, your joy etched into every moment of the secretive photograph as Bucky’s face gazes at you adoringly, his love etched eternally in the photograph.

“While Agent Romanoff was being compromised in a separate state, Ward never left New York. He instead was tracking your newest agent… watching her every move.” You feel your stomach twist at Ross’s words, your eyes flicking to him as you try to process his statement.

“We were able to recover these photographs from the files that were recovered during Agent Romanoff’s retrieval.” Ross confirms, looking directly at you as you feel your head begin to swim, your eyes flicking back the projection of your happiness, frozen in time.

Commander Ross’s next words blur in your head as all sound swims around you, your heart pumping so heavily in your head that it drowns all your senses as the picture changes once more to you and Bucky soaking wet, standing on opposite sides of a dark alleyway, pressed flat against the wet surface as rain frames the edges of the photograph.

He was there… He was watching… Even when I thought I had escaped… When I was safe… When I was happy… He was still… Your chest rises heavily as your breathing quickens, you suddenly realize that Bucky’s hand had released your thigh, his full stature rising beside you.

“That’s enough, Ross.” Bucky growls, as he moves in front of you slightly, shielding you defensively from Ross’s hostile gaze, “I don’t see how invasive photographs are relevant.”

“Don’t you?” Ross snarls, his lip curling snidely. “Agent Romanoff was not the target, she was only bait. Ward was willing to compromise any member of this team to settle a grudge match between him and his former prisoner.”

Ross turns towards Maria once more, opening his hands as if in a casual shrug, “I for one don’t want to see anymore Shield operatives in danger because of a high-risk recruit.”

All eyes flip to you once more as you battle to keep your face still, your eyes focused forward. Struggling to maintain a sense of decorum while your adrenaline courses aggressively through your body, the fight or flight response threatening to overwhelm and possess you.

“I am imposing a recess and rescheduling of this debrief so that Commander Ross and I can meet in private and discuss further. Effective immediately, dismissed.” Commander Hill speaks quickly, speaking to the room at large before moving quickly to pull Ross into a private argument.

You waste no time in rising to your feet, almost barreling over Wanda as you move hurriedly towards the door. In a dream like state you tear the door open, the handle crumbling bizarrely in your hand as you feel the world distorting around you, you race down the hallway only vaguely aware of Bucky calling after you.

You reach the stairwell, throwing the door forcefully open, hearing it slam against the cement wall as if cracking it. You race down the stairwell, not sure yet of where you are going only focused on creating as much distance as possible.

Tags: @captain-sassy-bum @melconnor2007 @imheretomarvel@blueeyedboobear @chipilerendi @domcaaa996@creideamhgradochas @shifutheshihtzu @saffreelove@imhereforbvcky @heismyhunter @feelmyroarrrr @sapphire1727@colt-eleven-impala-sixtyseven @lilacs-lavender  @callamint @himasugi @amrita31199 @ailynalonso15@thewintersoldierprogram @watch-out-for-thorns @givemethatgold@eloquentpetrichorpeculiar @kristygear @winterboobaer@magicintheelements @frolicsomefawkes @danstrash @bridgeneem@mitra-k-w @coffeeismylife28 @emmatheawesome@movingonto-betterthings @underragedgroupie @fangirlalexis@secondsandstars @alwayshave-faith @adaliamalfoy @denialanderror @ughborky @justreadingfics @cinema212 @immundusspiritu @calaofnoldor @evilxcupcakexnik 

Control - Ch. 11

You lean on the balcony, contemplating the night sky and the way the building lights fight to overshine the stars. Sighing deeply, you close your eyes, letting those questions invade your mind again, like they always do when you stay quiet.

Should you tell him? Where to start? “It’s nice that you’re into bondage, Jumin, matter of fact, I…” no, too casual. “I have something to tell you, honey, you better sit to hear this.” Ugh, too dramatic. “Yes, you’re right, my scholarship doesn’t cover all my outlay, but I have an extra job to help me afford my loft and my studies, you want to hear more about this?” Too confrontative and slightly passive aggressive. “I make money out of dominating men, Jumin, occasionally women, but I don’t let them touch me, still… I should have told you before, but things were so complicated back then. Now I’m coming clean before we start a new life together.” Perfect! But… too perfect…

It’s been a week he proposed to you officially, seven days that made the question resonate in your ears louder than it usually did: When will you tell him? The question keeps coming furiously, the answer is hiding somewhere inside your mind, afraid of the disappointed and scary eyes you saw in that afternoon when he slammed the door behind you, saying disturbing words so close to your face you were sure those words were very close to become actions. The cage shining over his shoulder, reminding you that Elizabeth was there a few hours ago before running away. Shouldn’t you do the same? Running away was never a problem to you, anyway…

But what would happen to him? He is such a lonely person, such a scared man pretending he’s not, such a vulnerable guy that thinks he isn’t. Just like you were not so long ago… what would have happened if you haven’t gathered strength to fight back, get in college and approach the teacher you basically idolized? If you haven’t found this unusual, yet effective support, how would you be right now? Probably like the man you’re engaged right now.

He’s making progress, though. Progress enough to understand you didn’t have bad intentions? Progress enough to understand your biggest fear and how it plays a part on your decision to keeping it a secret?  You honestly don’t know.

The questions stings your eardrums, it almost hurts: ‘When will you tell him?”

“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this.” He says, placing the mug of coffee in the table before leaning closer. “But I’m worried.”

“And you’re telling me because you think I’m the cause of your concerns.” You play with the coaster of your glass of ice tea.

“Yes, but I’m not blaming you, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

“I’m not that defensive, V. And I’m smart enough to understand what you mean.” Despite of the harsh words, you’re really not mad or defensive.

“Of course.” You curl your lips, glad that he understood and didn’t try to apologize, since you weren’t really mad. “I’m worried, MC.”

“V, if this is about Jumin. I don’t know what he told you, how he painted me to you and all. Just… know I was being cruel to be kind. Selfish to be altruistic, if you prefer.”

“I should probably stop you and tell you he didn’t say a thing about what happened between you guys. I have no idea why you broke up.”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Not a word. Well, maybe some things like he wasted his time and he should not have trusted you, but… not many details.” You smirk at his brutal honesty. “And though I wonder why, I respected his decision.”

“Probably because he was feeling… shameful.”

“Or just hurt, MC.” And, judging by his expression, you assume he definitely took his friend’s pain like it was his own. But that surprisingly doesn’t make you wince like it would with Jumin. Much on the contraire, it gives you guts.

“Yes. I suppose it hurts when your fiancé hides that she works as a domme.” You lower your gaze when speaking, looking at him right after. No expression in his face, not until he smiles softly.

“Yes, hiding things is very hurtful.” He adjusts himself on his seat, messing with his cane a little. “To both parties, I’m sure.”

“So, so much, V.” You feel your eyes getting warmer with some tears. Ah crap… how come such simple words from him make you feel so overwhelmed? How can he understand the situation so clearly with so few words from you and from his best friend? “And I don’t… I don’t really expect sympathy from you, but I…”

“But you will get it, if you don’t mind. Even though my sympathy doesn’t mean much…”

“It means, because you’re his friend. And… that is making me feel guilty, just imagine if he ends up hating me even more because his best friend has sympathy for me.”

“I have sympathy for both of you, MC. And… he wouldn’t hate you even more because he doesn’t hate you at all.”

“Yes. And that is the problem, isn’t it?” you hear your voice breaking. Realizing this is the first time you open up about Jumin, you sob when some stubborn tears roll down your face.

V stretches his arm, offering you a tissue. You were so relieved he couldn’t see your face expressions, but right now, you wanted him to see how grateful you are.

“I don’t mean to be insensitive, but I would be worried what the other members would think if they see you crying like this when they arrive.”

“I already told you I know what you mean, so no need to explain yourself so much.” He chuckles lightly, and you smile.

“So I hope you don’t get mad if I tell you there was no need to vent, if you didn’t want to. Because, yes, although I’m worried for my friend, there’s another RFA member who concerns me more right now, MC.”

You know what he means. This whole conversation could come across as useless if this wasn’t about Jumin from the beginning. But it wasn’t useless, because the pain you were feeling ever since he proposed you was a little lighter now that someone like V could understand you. So… time to repay him and listen to what he has to say.


“Luciel.” Jumin nods as he walks out of his car, reaching the hacker as they walk side by side while heading to the café where RFA members would meet in some minutes.

“Jumin.” He mimics his tone, putting his hands in his hoody pockets.

“It’s been a while.”

“Yes, we don’t see you much in the chat these days.”

“I’ve been busy with work and my father.”

“Yeah, sure. How is he, by the way?”

“Still following doctor recommendations, but he should be fine in the time being.”


Jumin glances at him quickly. It takes him back to the night of the break up, when you were in his car and he was trying to detect any signs that could give him the answer he needed. The question back then was “Are you cheating on me, MC?”, right now is “Are you her lover, Luciel?”

Well, it’s one of the questions. Jumin still has plenty of them as the conversation with your professor didn’t help much. All he got is that the woman offered you a financial escape so you could pay for college, she wasn’t interest in answering anything else. And even if she was, it would come to your knowledge, and right now, he would rather avoid more arguing with you.

Because he is trying to understand you.

Like that woman does, and probably like the redhead beside him does as well.

Probably yes, probably not. It depends on what kind of relationship he has with you.

“Are you her lover, Luciel?”

Both of them keep walking on the sidewalk, Jumin glances at him again. Nothing, any signs on his features, exactly like there were none on yours that night.

“Luciel, are you her lover?”

“I heard you on the first time.”

“I thought you did. You don’t have to be defensive, I’m not judging you.”

“I’m not being defensive. I’m ignoring you like a good friend would.”

“Like a good friend would?” he repeats as he stops walking.

“Yes, because you’re embarrassing yourself.”

“In what sense?”

“In the sense you keep beating around the bush with her, asking questions to other people when you should be asking her.”

“She wouldn’t answer me. She even ignored my last texts ”

“So you should take the hint and give her some time, dude.”

“I don’t think I have this time, Luciel. Not with you… being close to her.”

“We’re not close.”

“Don’t lie to me, Luciel. And how do you know what I’ve been doing, by the way?”

“This is a very stupid question, Jumin. Have you forgotten my whole job is about watching other people steps? I know you’re trying to find more about her because you want her back. Well, I have news for you: you could have her back if you asked her directly, like I did.”

Both men are standing in front of each other now, it’s a respectful, yet threatening distance between them as Jumin feels anger hitting his stomach when Luciel cocks an eyebrow, like he is… bragging.

“You’ve been acting really odd for a while now, Luciel. What is happening?”

“Ask your friend.”

“Jihyun? What does he…?” he looks away before locking his eyes with Seven’s.  “Are you using her to punish him through me?” the question sounds even more perverse when said out loud. “I know something happened between you and Jihyun, but I…”

“Oh God, Jumin… you are smart, dude! What are you even saying?” he laughs “That doesn’t make any sense, don’t you realize that? How could I punish him by getting to know better his friend’s ex fiancé? How do you know he would care so much for your feelings to this point?”

“Jihyun is a very sympathetic person.”

“If you say so, sure. So tell him what you just told me and let’s see what he’ll do to help his friend, who is clearly losing his mind. No, Jumin, I’m not punishing him through you. I’m the one being punished, if you really wanna know.”

“And that means…?”

“That I have bite marks, scratch marks and bruises all over my body, you wanna know who made them?” he cocks his eyebrow again, smirking. Son of a…

“So you are lovers.”

“Wrong again, buddy.” He turns on his heels, walking again. “I’m just a client.”

As V greets the members as they arrive one by one, you and Jumin are surprisingly on the same page for once: both of you wondering if his lack of sight makes him unable to sense the tension in this table.

Chapter 10 | Chapter 12 

snow in april (chapter 5 of 8)

deadalive au, casefile

one /// two /// three /// four

Mulder jolted in place, fumbling for his gun before he remembered that he didn’t have it. His hand slipped uselessly down the side of the quilt and he looked back up towards the window, pulse thundering in his ears.

The scarecrow was gone.

Heart pounding and not entirely sure if he’d imagined it or not, Mulder scrambled to his feet. It had gotten a hundred times colder, it seemed; his breaths came out in puffs and the cold floor was like needles under his bare feet. He went into the kitchen and fumbled in the dark for some kind of defense. His fingers curled around the handle of a knife and he snatched it up. The moonlight bounced off the blade as he held it threateningly out in front of him. Silence in the room outside of his ragged breathing.

He needed to see Scully. He needed to make sure she was okay. He stumbled to the door, knife held down by his side, and opened it clumsily, whispering, “Scully?” frantically.

A murmur before the figure in the bed moved. “Mulder, what is it?” she mumbled, shoving at the quilts. He couldn’t deduce her mood by her voice.

“I… just wanted to check on you,” he said as the memory of their fight came crashing down on him. “And I wanted to…”

He made the mistake of looking towards the window. The scarecrow was back, and it seemed to be smirking at him.


Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Could you make a fic about the Wet Shirt Incident™?

Anon 2: I love your writing. It always gives my day a pick-me-up when I read it. :) Please write the wet tshirt contest prompt? I think it would be fun!

“What the fuck!” Nico’s voice shrieked high throughout the camp. Will hadn’t really even known Nico’s voice could go that high. Will heard someone’s muffled voice, he thought maybe someone was trying to calm Nico down but the next thing he heard was; “I did not agree to this! I will kill you for this Jackson!” Will groaned quietly, stifling his displeasure as he made his way over to the area, where his boyfriend was supposed to be teaching the younger campers sword training. Emphasis on supposed to be. It sounded like Percy had made his presence known, which could only mean one thing: campers were not learning anything pertaining to sword training.

Will was fully prepared for a fight. He was ready to see Percy and Nico grappling on the ground, or perhaps even Jason holding a squirming Nico back from attempting to beat Percy, while Percy jumped around smugly confident in whatever he had done to elect a response from Nico. What Will hadn’t expected, however, was to find a sopping wet Nico shivering despite the mid-day heat, sending a glare at Percy that made the younger campers cower away.

Percy only grinned in the cocky way that said he knew he could get away with anything he wanted because he was Percy Jackson and not one actually hated him. Will raised an eyebrow in curiosity at one of the campers, and they pointed to the bucket in Percy’s hands and then to Nico, who was absolutely fuming. “It’s a wet t-shirt contest, Neeks,” ohh, yeah, that was going to put Percy even higher up on Nico’s shit list. He hated being called “Neeks”. Will could get away with it because they were dating and he didn’t use it often enough to upset Nico. Percy, on the other hand… Will contemplated going back to the infirmary and prepping a bed for Percy. “Since Jason’s not here, you’re taking his place!”

Will could understand why Nico was upset. No one wanted a bucket of water dumped on their heads, and even less someone like Nico, who struggled with some very bad body dysphoria. The way the wet t-shirt clung to his skin made Will want to cover Nico to protect him. Then again, Nico probably didn’t want to draw any more attention to his wet chest then Percy already had, and Will didn’t want to make a scene about covering him up. He waited instead to see what Nico was going to do.

“I will get you for this, Jackson.” Nico seethed, sneering at Percy before turning on his heels and storming off. Will blew out a breath of air between his lips and Percy, at least, had the decency to look sheepish. Will sighed quietly. Why Percy thought it had been a good idea was beyond him. Percy knew Nico didn’t even particularly like water to begin with, and here he was dumping it over Nico’s head. Who had even come up with the idea of a wet t-shirt contest, and who decided who got to be soaked? Will had a sinking suspicion it was a product of the mind of a child of Aphrodite. Or possibly Hermes. There was that one boy who had the hots for Nico… It didn’t matter. What mattered now was Will going and comforting his boyfriend.

“I’ll go after him,” Will volunteered after a few moments of silence. “You guys,” he turned to the kids that had been part of Nico’s class. “You guys are dismissed. You can go play.” The kids scattered almost instantly and Will rubbed his face. He turned to Percy next.

“I can-”

Will cut him off almost instantly. “You’ve done enough damage. I’ll go make sure he’s okay.” Percy’s shoulders curled inwards defensively and Will tried for a reassuring smile. “Give him time to cool off, he’ll be fine.” Will hoped he was right.

Will and Nico did laugh about it later

That subtle shift in expression (widening eyes, brows lifting, slacking jaw, hands raising) when they realize they’re about to get hurt. Their muscles tense, and their posture curls away defensively, as if by looking away they could somehow shield themself.

Maybe they’re in the calm few seconds before an explosion. Maybe they’re staring down the barrel of a gun. Maybe supernatural forces are involved. Regardless, they’re about to face excrutiating pain, and they know it.

Bonus: Standing their ground anyway, to protect a loved one.

raraadsel  asked:

Hey! Hope you are well! :) I have a question about body language. I read a couple of reviews that noticed Elio's body language/composure/posture is very different before and after he and Oliver get together, like he exudes much more confidence, becomes more mature in the way he holds himself, maybe not just body language, but in other ways as well. Did you notice this as well?

That’s very interesting. I would say that almost the exact opposite is true. Before they have sex Elio is very bold and cocky and afterward he is incredibly vulnerable. 

There aren’t too many scenes after they have sex, and he’s crying in at least four of them!  

Instead of a playful defensive posture, his body curls toward Oliver. 

Even on the trip when they are happy and Oliver is tickling him, he submits shyly to him. There’s no pretense. He exposes himself even further when he throws up and lets Oliver care for him. 

That said, I personally believe that vulnerability is strength and to allow yourself to be vulnerable with another person a sign of maturity. 

Dr. Frederick Chilton | Catching A Cold

Inspired by “Please Call Me, Baby” by Tom Waits.

& @nobodys-baby-now for not acting like I’m crazy for thinking of Chilton when I listen to Tom Waits, lol…

Originally posted by minidodds

‘So please call me, baby, wherever you are. It’s too cold to be out walking in the streets. We do crazy things when we’re wounded, everyone’s a bit insane; I don’t want you catching your death of cold out walking in the rain…’

She had left. He couldn’t blame her.

They had been arguing, ever since leaving the dinner party he’d brought her to. Frederick hadn’t quite been too fond of the young man she’d chosen to sit with when he’d excused himself with the gentleman throwing the party to discuss his new book over a drink.

When he had come back, she was laughing, louder than he had heard her laugh in so very long- and that young man had had his hand on her knee while laughing, too.

Frederick certainly didn’t see how anything could be that funny.

And he had told her so, during the cab ride home. In fact: he’d told her about how he felt quite extensively. How she’d ridiculed him, how he should have known bringing someone so young along with him would end in a disaster, how she hadn’t been left behind in order to canoodle with his colleague’s nephew.

Of course, after relaying the problems he’d perceived, she’d offered a different viewpoint- How she had felt like a fool for being sat with ‘the children like her’ when he went with his colleagues, how she would have never bothered him with her presence if she’d known it was an ’adult’ party, how the fact alone that she had been left behind was much more dire than her apparent transgression.

Somewhere between paying for the Taxi and waltzing grandiosely into the front door while fiddling with his cuff links: Frederick had told her there was no need for dramatics.

He was going to further advise her how rude it was to leave the front door open when it was raining so horribly outside-

But when he turned to face her, she wasn’t there…

“… D-Darling?”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Maybe to start off the blog, 2d meeting his S/O for the first time?

(I feel like it could’ve been cuter but damn it, it’s good enough!)

‘What the fuck do you mean you didn’t write anything new yesterday?! I thought that was what you were doing in your room all fucking day?!’ Murdoc yelled at a defensively curled up 2D.
‘B-But my head, I took some migraine and then sleeping pills and I must’ve fallen asleep fast!’ 2D cried back, folding his lanky body up on the sofa and cradling his head in his large hands.
'You always do that! Mixing pills and basically fucking overdosing! In fact I’m changing your name, you’re not 2D anymore, you’re now gonna be known as fucking OD’ Murdoc snarled, getting closer into 2D’s face and reeling his hand back as in to punch him while 2D yelped and covered his face with his hands before Russel pitched in.
'Lay off him, Murdoc, we all know his migraines have been getting worse recently’
'Yea! T-That’s true! Plus I can’t sleep without mixing my pills anymore’ 2D added.
'I don’t care! I’m not letting us disappear again, I want more new-’ Murdoc growled again, making 2D cower once more until he was cut off.
'Hey guys, I brought a friend over, so leave us alone, Kay?’ Noodle spoke, poking her head in the doorway and fixing each of the boys with a 'don’t piss me off’ stare before bounding back out the room and into her room, dragging her friend along behind her.
'Hey- Wait! We’re supposed to be having a band meet- Why do I even fucking bother? But fine, you-’ Murdoc spoke, pointing at 2D, 'write some new material. And you-’ he continued, pointing at Russel, 'I don’t fucking know, drum something’ before storming out the room and slamming the door, leaving 2D and Russel to look at each other with blank stares.
Sitting at the kitchen table with an open notebook in front of him 2D tapped a pen against his temple trying to focus more on the words swimming within his mind rather than the beginning of a dull ache at the base of his skull.
Groaning in discomfort he dropped the pen against the table and shut his eyes as ran his hands through his already messy hair, ruffling it further so the strands stood on end.
'Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be in here’ a voice spoke from a few feet away, making him jump as it broke the silence around him.
His head shot up, bleary eyes settling on the form that stood in the kitchen doorway.
'Uhh’ was all he said as he squinted, his blurry sight making it difficult to see who was standing in the doorway.
'Sorry, I’m (Y/N), Noodles friend?’ You spoke, finding yourself walking closer to the blue haired man, 'Sorry I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself earlier, but you looked like you were busy’ you grinned nervously, awkwardly sticking your hand out for a handshake.
2D was too lost in his own thought though, as you had walked closer it was easier for him to make out your appearance and features. Now, 2D wasn’t the type of guy who found himself flustered by girls, he’d been experiencing girls throwing themselves at him for years now. But there was something about the way you seemed to almost trip over yourself trying to be polite and friendly that it made you seem even more awkward, he found it cute.
'Err, sorry, I just came down to grab a drink, Noodle said she wanted a Coke and she had a stash hidden somewhere in here. I mean she would’ve come down herself but her cat decided to have a nap on her so obviously she couldn’t move, it would’ve been cruel’ you laughed nervously, noting how he continued to stare at you and how he’d left you to stand there with your hand outstretched like an idiot.
After a few moments more of him staring in silence you began to get a little more weirded out.
'Okay, well I’m just gonna, uh, go’ you spoke, shuffling out of his view, finally snapping him our from his trance.
'Wha? Oh, damn it, sorry. I’ve been getting a migraine all day and it’s been messing with my head’ 2D cried, jumping out from his seat and in front of you, making you jump slightly at his lanky figure towering over your shorter frame.
'Oh! Oh, it’s fine, but if you want I’ve got some dissolvable paracetamol in my bag I can give you? It works so much faster than normal paracetamol. Give me like two minutes and I’ll go get them for you!’ You grinned up at him, quickly placing your hands on his arms, making an electrical surge shoot through his skin from where you touched him, before suddenly pulling away and darting back out the room to get your bag.
2D continued to stare after you with a soft smile on his face, he knew your paracetamol wouldn’t be enough to ease the type of migraines he got but he found you so adorable, he honestly didn’t have the heart to tell you.

anonymous asked:

For the writing prompt: no. 20 Stanley and Stanford Pines, blind faith au?

“I’ll protect you no matter what… even if it kills me”

“This is not the time to say that, Ford!” Stan very nearly screamed, pressing against the wound that occupied his brother’s shoulder. The mugger lay beside the pair, absolutely still as the sizzling hot bolt of Ford’s ray gun continued to eat away his, what Stan assumed, was his skull and brain tissue. Stan, for once, was glad he couldn’t see that aftermath, but that somewhat relief was masked by Ford, bleeding out below him.

“I-It’s t-true.”

“Shut up,” Stan bit at Ford, a little sharper than he intended, but Ford needed to save his strength.

Stan reached for his belt and grasped for his utility knife, unsheathing it before starting to cut away at Ford’s outer cloth, too worried and too vulnerable to ask Ford to shuck off his multitude of garments right there. Stan listened carefully to Ford’s breathing as he cut it away, making sure he wasn’t making Ford nervous by getting too close to his neck.

Once most of the cloth around the wound was removed, Stan threw the knife to the cold ground before unravelling gauze and taking out an alien antibacterial cream from his same belt. He put a generous amount of it on his finger and started to dab it on the wound, eliciting a sharp gasp from Ford, his hand coming up to grasp Stan’s coat collar. Stan apologized, but continued. The wound was deep.

By the time Stan was beginning to wrap Ford’s shoulder, his brother was breathing rapidly and his hands were starting to sweat.

“Sh-sh-shock,” was the only word Ford offered when Stan put a hand to Ford’s cheek, the skin cold and sweaty under his fingers.

Fuck,” Stan breathed, grasping at the pseudo-backpack that was sitting beside him, most of the contents strewn about the twins. Still, there was enough structure in the backpack to stay upright and not crumple to the ground as Stan picked up Ford’s legs and placed them on top of the bag. Ford didn’t say anything, but the hand on Stan’s collar tightened when Stan continued to put pressure on the wound. He could already feel the blood pooling through the bandages.

He hoped, hoped to whatever deity that allowed them to live thus far, that the damage hadn’t gotten through to Ford’s brachial artery. If it had…

No. No. Stan couldn’t think like that.

“Just…stay with me, Sixer. Please.”

Silence. Stan would’ve been a lot more concerned if he couldn’t feel his brother’s hand moving against his cloak, but it was still incredibly unsettling.

“Ford, look- I know it’s hard to talk right now, but I need something please!”

“I- I’m s-s-sorry.”

“Tell me a story,” Stan said, ignoring the stuttered statement from his brother, the words burning inside his chest. “Um- tell me more about your partner. Fiddlesticks or whoever. Any college stories I can use to blackmail you?”

Surprisingly, Ford released a small chuckle and Stan gave him a brittle smile, knowing that Ford could still see him. As time went on, Ford’s words came easier and easier, fuller and more articulate. The blood had stopped spreading.

So they weren’t out of the woods yet, but at the very least, Ford was no longer at risk of bleeding out in Stan’s arms. Different risks of shock, infection, or other internal injuries still plagued the pair, but that all came to rest when Stan felt more than heard the familiar sounds of an opening portal just behind their backs. At first Stan was defensive, curling over his brother protectively until Ford released a sigh of relief.

“Come with me,” the newcomer said in a soft, motherly voice, placing a gentle hand on Stan’s shoulder.

Short Writing Prompts