face split

Angus McDonald normally wears his hair buzzed down pretty close to his scalp. It’s easier to manage that way. But in recent months he’s been very busy, with school and new cases and making sure to spend as much time as he can with all of his new family, and now it’s much longer.

Lup told him yesterday that she liked his little ‘fro, but Angus can’t shake the feeling that this particular hairstyle is not conduscive to inconspicuous detective work. He’s with Taako and Kravitz for the week, and is just about to buzz the whole thing off, when he hears the familiar tearing noise that means Kravitz is back, and gets another idea.

“There you are Angus, Taako told me you’d be here, I’m sorry I wasn’t around to welcome you home last night,” Kravitz says when Angus walks into the living room downstairs.

“It’s alright sir! But, umm, actually I was wondering if you could help me something? It’s alright if you can’t or don’t want to I imagine it takes a long time and lots of work and I know you’re probably tired and-“

“Angus,” Kravitz interrupts, “of course I’ll help you. What is it?”

“Um,” Angus tugs at his curls for a second or so before answering. “I was wondering if you could help me do my hair… so that it’s like yours…”

Kravitz blinks, and then smiles.

When Taako gets home he finds the pair of them in the living room, Kravitz is sitting on the couch with Angus between his knees on a little cushion. While Kravitz is carefully parting and twisting together Angus’ much shorter locs, Angus reads aloud from the newest Caleb Cleveland novel, squinting a bit without his glasses. It looks like they’re about halfway done. In the doorway of their little house, Taako’s heart swells (twice over, actually, when he spies the little pile of enchanted silver beads Kravitz is picking from every now and again).

They haven’t noticed him yet, and so Taako loudly clears his throat, and says, “I suppose this means you haven’t started dinner yet?”

They both look up and give almost identical sheepish grins and Taako is nearly floored by the domesticity of it all.

“Sorry Love,” Kravitz answers. “He asked for my help.”

“No, no it’s fine, I’ll just do everything around here like always,” Taako replies, strolling towards the kitchen to make those little personal pizzas that are Angus’ favorite, that he’d already been planning on making anyway.

Kravitz is a section away from being done with Angus’ hair by the time dinner is ready. When he’s finished, Angus darts up the stairs to the bathroom mirror and comes back down a minute later wearing a smile so big it looks like his face might split in two.

“Thank you so much Mr. Kravitz sir! I love it!”

you: coran is the funny uncle comic relief

me, a person with too much time: how long did coran wait to cryofreeze himself? did he do it right after allura fainted? in that case, was alfor the one who cryofroze him? was alfor the last thing coran ever saw?

you: uh,

me, on a roll: or did coran wait? did he see his king off to a fight they both knew alfor could not possibly win? and even then, how long did coran hesitate? how long did he hope? how many minutes, hours, days did he spend gazing out at the stars, waiting for a call that would never come? and only then did he, completely alone in a castle built for thousands, finally freeze himself?

you: 

me, rapidly blinking: did you notice how solemn coran’s face was in the split-second after he woke up from cryo-freeze? is it because he knew he would be waking up in a world post-altea, post-voltron, post-alfor?

((thank you to guest writer @actualbird !!!))

See the thing about Evangeline is that it’s pretty much as old as Jeremy and Michael’s entire friendship. Probably older, actually. Evangeline, of course, being the minifridge in their dorm that houses the Jeremy’s fantastic stock of Mountain Dew Red.

Keep reading

rachaelmhill  asked:

OK, I officially feel like I've been hit by a truck. More embarrassing Steve stories, if you please? I need distractions.

steve has really, really good night vision. 

i do too–i drank the same superjuice, just a little more watered down–but back during the war i didn’t really tell anyone about that. so since steve’s vision was best, he was always the point man on nighttime operations with the Howlies. this worked out pretty well–he could spot terrain problems and walk us around them, and he could see a nazi scout coming well before he saw us. 

but every once in a while, some particularly sneaky bastard would get the drop on him.

on one particular occasion, we were on our way back from an op, and crossing through a disputed area in the evening. we’d been warned that the nazis were trying to send spies through, so we were on the lookout. steve was on point. 

somehow, despite having the eyes of a goddam bald eagle, steve did not see this guy coming. 

the guy–a nazi spy–was hardly invisible. he had a big, bulky backpack, civilian clothes, and a Walther PPK.  he popped out of a shrub with his pistol and steve never saw him coming–but luckily steve’s got the instincts of a tiny angry human target who used to get jumped in dark alleys on a regular basis, and he bopped him with the shield before the nazi could fire. well, i say bopped–it was the sort of wild swing you take with a frypan when someone startles you in the kitchen. 

the spy flew a good three feet through the air and landed on his side–

and exploded into a flock of pigeons. 

after the fact, we realized that the spy’s backpack was actually a wooden cage containing half a dozen homing pigeons, intended to carry back messages from allied territory. when he fell, it split apart, releasing a bunch of terrified birds to fly back, empty handed (empty winged?), to a nazi base. but at the time, it was like a magic trick–one moment there was a nazi spy, the next, a flock of birds! 

the look of shock and surprise on steve’s face was incredible. you could see on his face a split second where he asked himself can i punch people so hard they turn into birds now? did i grow a new superpower? what the hell was in that serum?

he realized the truth moments later, but i could see it–the brief seconds where flashes of a pigeon empire flew through his head.

I don’t think you can really forget someone. Sure, you move on. You meet different people and you carry on with your life but they will always remain there, buried in the deepest parts of your thoughts. They linger there waiting for the right moment to surface, waiting to remind you that at some point in your life, they mattered, they still matter, and they will always matter. You could be walking down the street 5 years later when you see a familiar face, and for a split second time stands still and you need to catch your breath. All the memories you shared with that person come crashing down like a waterfall and you cant help but wonder could it be them?..for the rest of the day you cannot help but wonder what became of their life, and if they are happy, if they still remember you, how your life would have been different if they had still remained in your life..and their memory remains with you for a few more days until once again they are buried deep within the crevices of your mind…waiting to resurface.
Skewered

Summary: You’re a doctor for the avengers and when Bucky comes in with a hunk of metal in his side you find that it’s not his injury that’s making you sweat.

Warnings: Description of wounds/blood, Bucky being shameless

Note: I’m overwhelmed by the feedback I got on my last fic! You guys are great! So for my second fic I though I’d try out Bucky, again I’d love any constructive comments/criticism.


“Incoming! Incoming!” Odette, the surgical tech assigned to you rushes into the room.

“How many?” you ask, looking up from the table where you’ve laid out your tools.The tech flushes. You sigh. “What type of injuries?” 

“Uh-hm..” the tech stutters. You turn around so you can hide your eye roll. “Dr.Cho’s been called in..” Odette says. 

“Thank you, Odette” You say and head to the sink to scrub your hands again. You are a top scientist working for Fury, and besides having your degree in engineering you’re an MD who specializes in general surgery. So whenever the reinstated avengers go on mission you’re put on call, which basically consists of you waiting in the med bay in case anyone needs to be treated. Usually the injuries are minor, the team are unparalleled in what they do, and you just end up patching up deep scrapes or bullet grazes. Because of this and the fact you have daily work at the Avenger’s compound you’ve become very friendly with the team.

Your palms start to sweat. Today’s mission was supposed to be high risk and it’s a bad sign that Helen’s been called in. With you and one other doctor on call her and her technology are only called in for severe injuries. The door opens and a battered looking Steve supporting an even more battered looking Bucky walks in. Steve helps Bucky sit on the examination table.

“Any more injured?” You ask, pulling on gloves.

“Scrapes all around, except for Sam. He’s badly burned.” Steve blows air out of his mouth. You look at him, his brow is creased in worry. 

“How badly?” You look at Bucky, he has a chunk of what seems to be jagged metal in his side, about two inches thick, protruding several inches from his gear. It seems to be a simple extraction job.

“Badly. But Park’s seeing to him”  Samuel Park is the other doctor in the compound “Dr.Cho’s supposed to put him in the new Cradle.I hope she gets here soon.”

You walk to the table and pick up scissors and a knife. “Odette, You should go assist Dr.Park.” the tech nods, and scurries out the door. Steve goes to follow but looks back at Bucky.

“He’ll be fine, go,” You say, and with that Steve leaves.


You look at Bucky. His eyes are already trained on you. It reminds you of the time Steve came in for stitches. His forearm had been split open. Bucky leaned against the wall in the corner of the room, he remained silent but his eyes followed your every move. Even when you looked at him he didn’t break his gaze. You assumed he was just being protective over his best friend. Bucky hasn’t said more than two words to you in the time that you’ve known him. Even after he started opening up and joking around with the team he remained oddly silent around you. You assumed you annoyed him. He had no problem talking with the others and even flirting with the research techs. 

You step up to him and start cutting away his gear. ‘Oops probably should have asked before I started cutting off his clothes’.Heat flushes down your neck and you stop your actions.

“Sorry, do you mind  if I cut away your gear?” 

“ ‘S fine” he says, voice low. You look up and you swear there’s a hint of smile on his face. You nod and continue. He smells of something metallic mixed with blood and sweat and a hint of….cologne…? As you cut away more of his gear you catch more of it. You try not to think about it. He’s handsome, the type of handsome that makes people do a double take. You try to ignore the broadness of his shoulders as his gear falls away, leaving him in a damp wife-beater. 

“Ain’t even the first date and you’re already tryna get me outta my clothes.” He rasps, startling you. You stutter and stammer, before deciding not to respond.

“Okay,” you say, taking a breath. “I’m just going to  take a look at this” You step in between his legs and inspect the metal shard. It looks worse than what you first thought it was. The shard is about the size of your hand and sticks out right below his rib cage, there’s a possibility that it might have hit some organs. There’s no exit point. Your heart rate goes up. Can a super soldier die if his major organs fail before his body can repair them? 

You wheel over your table of tools. You wish you hadn’t sent away Odette.

“Can you lay down for me?,” You ask.

“Of course sugar.” He says, piercing you with his stare.

You take a deep breath, feeling flustered. Did this man want to die on the operating table?

You cut away his undershirt and prepare some local anesthesia.

“I’m going to try to numb the area, but I don’t know how well this will work. I’m sorry I don’t have anything else on hand.” You don’t even know if anesthesia would work on him.

“ ‘S alright, darling I’ve been through worse,” He says giving you a small smile. You feel your face fall as you think about how true his statement is. You numb him and take a deep breath.You move to start extracting the shard when his hand shoots out and grabs yours. You stop yourself from jumping.

“You know there is something that would make me feel better.” Bucky says, voice gravelly.

“Of course, what is it?” You place your tools back on the table. ‘Maybe a special painkiller?’ you think.

“A kiss,” Bucky’s face stretches into a wide smirk.

You splutter “James…!”

“Bucky.” he supplies, smirk not leaving his face.

“Bucky….I uh….I don’t think that would be necessary for minimizing your pain.”

Oh I beg to differ darlin’“ He says.

You clear your throat and start to grab your tools again. Bucky says your name, pleadingly.

“Come on, ya really gonna deny a dyin’ man his final wish.” You roll your eyes at his dramatic tone. You fix him with your gaze.

 “You’re not gonna die Bucky.” 

“Here I am,bleeding out on your table, and all I’m askin’ for is one little kiss. Just one little kiss, from the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He looks at you from the corner of his eye “….before she slices me open.”

You sigh. One thing you know about Bucky Barnes is that he’s stubborn as a bull. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek, his stubble prickling you in a not unpleasant way.

For a moment Bucky just looks at you, it seems like he’s crawling underneath your skin with that stare. Then he groans “Really sugar? Ya gonna try and cheat a man with a chunk of metal in his side?”

“I-I, uh” You stammer

“You really are heartless.” He sighs dramatically, closing his eyes.

You war with yourself for a split second, before leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. As you start to pull away Bucky’s hand comes up and stops you, and he deepens the kiss. His lips are surprisingly soft, his stubble scratches your face deliciously. Remembering the fact that he has a piece of metal in his side, you slowly withdraw. Bucky tugs on your lip with his teeth as you do so, which makes you have to turn around in order to regain your composure. When you turn back around, Bucky’s face is split in an ear to ear grin.

“Alright beautiful, cut me open, I can now die a happy man.”

You swallow, “Shut up James,” you snap, hating how your voice shakes. You pick up your tools and start to remove the metal. It comes out surprisingly smoothly, except for the last few inches. As you pull them free, Bucky starts to bleed. Way too much. The end of the shard is jagged. You try to contain the blood. But there’s just so much, you call for assistance and try to repair the damage.

By the time you finish you’re covered in blood. “Bucky, Bucky can you hear me?” You say, stepping close and touching his face, he looks drawn, pale.

“His pulse is faint. But it’s there.” Odette says. You jump, you forgot she had come in.

“Alright,” you sigh, blowing hair back from your forehead. “Guess we’ll wait.”


Bucky’s moved to a different hospital bed in another one of the rooms, and fitted with IVs. Steve understandably freaks out, with two close friends gravely injured within 24 hours it’s no wonder. Sam’s healed now, resting. You tell Steve to do the same and sit in a chair in Bucky’s room. The others wander in and out of the room.You know with his regenerative properties he’ll recover, but when six hours pass you can’t help but worry. ‘Why hasn’t he woken up by now?’ .


You blink your eyes open as a sliver of sunlight passes across your face. You squint, looking at the clock on the wall: 7 am. Damn. You finished patching Bucky up at about 4 pm last night. You had fallen asleep in his room. ‘I’m terrible at keeping watch’ you scold yourself. ‘What if he had worsened during the night?’ You look over at Bucky, only to find him watching you. You jump.

“Man you need to stop doing that.” Your voice is thick with sleep. You lick your dry lips, feeling self conscious. Standing you hear your joints cracking as you walk over.

“How can I help it when you’re always lookin’ so gorgeous?” He smirks.

“Shut up,” You say, pulling back the covers and inspecting his wound. It looks nearly healed. “How do you feel?” you murmur.

“Alright,” He says wincing slightly as you put pressure on his wound. He sits up, and you try to ignore the way the muscles in his chest and stomach flex. “I’d feel better if you’d let me buy you dinner, though” He looks up at you through his lashes. You click your tongue.

“You really are shameless,”

“Come on, it’s the least I can do after bleedin’ all over ya.” You look down at yourself, your scrubs are crusted in dried blood. You start replacing the dressing on his wound.

“You say that to all the girls who stitch you up?” You quip, avoiding his gaze.

“Nope. But then again I don’t spend six months building up the courage to ask those girls out either.” You look at him for a long while,saying nothing, and notice how red starts to tinge his ears and creep up his neck.

“Alright,” You answer finally giving him a smirk of your own.

Bucky lets out a huge breath, and chuckles  “Damn sugar, you really know how to make a man sweat, don’t ya?”


Tags : @stephie-senpai

#couch #laughter #snitch

Prompts: @hedwig4evr (lucky number one! <3)
Author: @queenofthyme

Draco walked into the eighth year common room with his head downcast as always. He spoke to no-one. No-one spoke to him. 

He was making a beeline for his favourite armchair right by the fire - it was always empty, everyone knew it was his - when he heard it. Laughter. 

He knew exactly whose laughter and exactly where from. There was no need to look up. But as always, he did.

Harry Potter and his friends, Weasley and Granger, were in their usual spots on the widest, comfiest couch in the room, tucked into a corner by the dormitory stairs. They were all laughing, Potter the loudest of all, while taking turns to grab at the golden snitch zooming above their heads. 

Potter had beaten Draco in the Gryffindor vs Slytherin Quidditch match in the morning. Again. Draco had been training constantly - it’s not like he had much else to do, or anyone else to hang out with - and yet he had still been defeated. It was disheartening. He wondered whether he should just give up on Quidditch. Maybe on Hogwarts too. It’s not like anyone wanted him here.

He was still staring when Potter looked up, his eyes falling on Draco’s. Draco quickly turned his head - making it more obvious he’d been staring - and continued on towards his chair. It was no couch, but it would do.

“Malfoy!” Potter’s voice called out behind him. 

Draco hesitated before turning back. He didn’t want to look too eager. Potter probably just wanted to gloat about the match. 

But when he finally did turn to Potter, the git was already laughing again with his friends again, paying no mind to Draco. 

Draco stomped over, feeling very much like a dog called by his owner. He didn’t like it. He crossed his arms and stared down at the three Gryffindors. 

Potter stood up, the snitch following his movements. He held out a hand. Draco stared at it. 

“Good game, ” Potter said.

Weasley and Granger had stopped laughing. Everything was silent. Draco kept staring at Potter’s hand. It was shaking a little. 

Just when Potter looked like he was about to drop his hand, Draco shot out his own and caught it in a firm shake. Potter’s hand was clammy. 

Potter smiled, as broad as his face. “You flew brilliantly today. It made me nervous.”

“You always fly well,” Malfoy said in return. It came out sounding forced but he meant it. 

“Thanks.” Potter, unlike Draco, had no problem sounding genuine. 

They stood there silently for no longer than a beat but it seemed a very slow, awkward one. Draco nodded politely and moved to walk away. 

“Wait,” Potter called out, louder than required. 

Draco paused. “Yes?”

Another silence. Draco supposed the laughter would start up again as soon he left. His presence seemed to bring everything down. 

As there didn’t seem to any further words coming out of Potter’s mouth, Draco was left to stand there awkwardly. His eyes were drawn to the golden snitch fluttering by Potter’s ear. It was hardly moving now. He could easily reach out and take it. 

So he did. Or at least he tried. The snitch seemed to know he was coming and zoomed to the side at the last millisecond. Draco tried again, the snitch few away. Frustrated, he reached out with both hands, but only continue to grasp air. 

He heard Weasley snigger. His face reddened. He looked like an idiot now. His only saving grace was to actually catch the damn snitch. So he tried again. Nothing. 

Granger was soon laughing too and Draco grew angry. He didn’t like being made the fool. Especially not by the perfect golden trio. 

One last time, he told himself. But once again, his hands closed over nothing, the wings of the snitch just grazing his fingers, always out of reach. 

That’s when the sound hit him: Potter’s laughter. Except this time he was right here with him and not only that, Draco was causing it. And it didn’t sound cruel, or mocking. It didn’t sound like Potter was laughing at him at all. No, it was bubbly and bright and basically what Draco imagined sunshine to sound like. 

Draco dropped his gaze to take in Potter’s face. It really was a sight when he laughed - full and joyful and pure. Draco never wanted to look away. 

His anger had faded, almost as soon as Potter had started laughing, but now Draco’s face was red for another reason entirely. He needed to stop looking at Potter immediately. But he couldn’t. 

When Potter stopped laughing, he seemed to finally find his words from earlier. “You should sit with us.”

Draco blinked. Sit at Potter’s couch? With Granger and Weasley? Surely that’s not what he meant. 

Weasley seemed to have the same though because he blurted out, “What?”

Granger shushed him. 

Draco just stared at Potter. He had no idea how to respond to such a suggestion. He wanted to ask why but the words never came out. Potter seemed to understand regardless.

He leaned in to Draco, close enough that Draco could smell his shampoo, and whispered: “I think you need a laugh.”

Draco agreed.

Keep reading

Once Upon A Dream (Part One)

Fandom: Riverdale
Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader/OC
Rating: NSFW, Mature
Warnings: Language/Cursing, Adult Themes/Situations, Emotional Stress/Angst, Gang Activity, Underage Drinking/Drug Useage (Party responsibly!), Rivalry, Smut!
Format: Part One of Three

Note: So this is a little something that popped into my head, inspired by the song, Wildest Dreams. Silly, I know, but some of those lines just seem to fit Sweet Pea so well. I couldn’t resist. This has a slight AU!Quality, where there is a strong football rivalry between the Southside High and Riverdale High. Cliche, perhaps, but I lovee it. There’s some Archie!Angst in the beginning, so if any of you are a sucker for that! This will be a three part mini-series, and should wrap up after the third part!

Looking at him, she couldn’t help but think he was beautiful.

Keep reading

3

Malec Appreciation Week: Day 6 - A scene that made you smile
Magnus wants the deets

Studio

Hoseok is stressed about his upcoming mixtape, so you decide to swing by his studio and help him relax.

pairing: hoseok x reader
genre: smut, fluff
wordcount: 5k
inspiration




You hadn’t seen Hoseok in a week.

For the two of you, a week was a long time. You were missing him. You had quickly gotten used to your routine with Hoseok since he had returned from the tour a few months ago. You both worked during the day and you shared your evenings together. It was your nights with Hoseok that you missed.

You had grown accustomed to falling asleep to his soft snores and reaching over to poke him abruptly when his snores were too loud. You had quickly adapted to how you would both wake up sometimes in the middle of the night, suddenly overcome with lust, needing each other right then and there. In fact, those were some of your favourite nights with Hoseok, when at 3am, he had you moaning with your underwear around your knees, and his hands wrapped around your neck and your stomach as he made love to you. 

Of course there were harder nights with Hoseok- nights when he was so exhausted he practically collapsed into bed, saying nothing, just wanting to hold you close to him. Or the nights when you would fight, arguing about small things that didn’t really matter, the two of you falling asleep prickly with irritation. Nevertheless, you appreciated all of your nights with Hoseok, the difficult ones, and of course, the good ones. You knew quality time with Hoseok was rare, so having your nights with him was something you valued. 

So when seven nights passed without Hoseok, seven lonely nights, you were all too acutely aware of just how badly you were missing him.

Keep reading

Remus gets a bit, well, Moony when the full moon nears. His skin itches and pulls as his hair follicles begin to produce thick wolf fur instead of body hair. His joints ache, even dislocating some days, as his skeleton prepares to disassemble and rearrange its parts into the sum of an entirely different species.

Strangely, these are not the worst parts of his pre-moon affliction. The worst is actually the the growth of his canine teeth the day before the full. Or, rather, the worst part is Sirius’ laughter that results from the unfortunate speech impediment caused by these canines.

“Thiriuth! Really, ith not that funny!” he argues, only to cause said friend to collapse into breathless wheezes of laughter.

“Please, Padfoot, can we just go to breakfatht now?”

Still howling in laughter, Sirius sat up. “Hah, n-no, Moons, not until you say it!”

“Padth, we go through thith every month. Do I really have to thay it again?”

“Yes! C’mon, for me?” Sirius batted his eyelashes, pouting childishly.

Remus sighed, ready to give up his dignity for yet another month. He took a deep breath.

“Thiriuth Black ith the thexietht guy in Hogwartth.”

His boyfriend’s face split into a grin so blinding it almost made the humiliation worth it. “You bet your bollocks I am, Moony. Now let’s go get the wolf fed.”

Later that day, Sirius had to put a silencing spell on himself to keep from laughing out loud as Remus was asked to read The Benefits and Dangers of Potions Containing Sassafras aloud in potions class.