he keeps making me think there is someone in my room

Good Girls Go Bad

Set in the 40’s. Y/N was your stereotypical girl next door, growing up in the apartment right across the hall from James Buchanan Barnes. She had always been the shy, reserved girl; she was the complete opposite of the enigmatic ladies man. Despite their proximity, she was sure that he didn’t even know she existed. What happens when they run into one another during a night out on the town? Is just one night all it really takes? 

Word Count: 3,408

Warnings: swearing, smut


Originally posted by evanstansource


You sighed, adjusting your dress as you gazed into the mirror. Even though it was still rather conservative, you couldn’t help but notice that it was more revealing than you were used to. The neckline plunged rather low, the collar fastened with a bow that drew attention to your cleavage. The waist was cinched, showing off your figure. Paired with the red heels that your friends had chosen for you, you were looking like a regular bombshell. Your friends had insisted that you go out with them tonight. You had turned them down too many times. They said that now, of all days, you had to accompany them. The newest army recruits would be shipping out tomorrow, and it was sure to be a lively night.

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BNHA: count your blessings, not your flaws

Summary: Midoriya Izuku has never been asked out, confessed to, or flirted with, except as a joke.

AO3


Shouto knows he isn’t good at this.

He never has been. He can’t tell whether this is just the way he is, or it’s one more thing he can blame on his father, but he knows that he isn’t good at this. People call him stoic, and cold. Some even call him mysterious. Others call him emotionless.

It’s not that he doesn’t feel. He does feel, but it all gets locked inside and none of it ever shows. Sometimes it’s because he can’t show it. Other times it’s because he’s afraid to.

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Something Stupid (Like I Love You)

Title: Something Stupid (Like I Love You)

Summary: Dean didn’t think he could ever be jealous over someone who’s not his. He was wrong.

Author: deanssweetheart23

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Sam Winchester (mentioned), OMC.

Word count: 2014

Warnings: Not much. Tiny bit of fluff, some angst and a whole lot of language (because we all know that Dean and the f-word go together). Jealous Dean, I guess?

Author’s Notes: This is my sumbission for @death2thevirgin “Cassie Classic Challenge”. Cassie, congratulations on your milestone and thank you for letting me participate. I loved working on this one. 

Also, I’d like to thank my amazing twin @ravengirl94 for her insightful comment on part of the dialogue -which was really needed- and some general advices about the beginning. Twin, YOU’RE THE BEST!

Now. My prompt for this was “I wish I knew how to quit you” from Brokeback Mountain and is included in bold in the text below. (This is written entirely from Dean’s POV)

Originally posted by yaelstiel


The tiny bar was crowded, filled with smoke and hundreds of conversations narrated in loud voices, brightened only by some old bar lights. Rock music blasted through the jukebox and people around Dean laughed and danced and talked in an annoying cheerful manner.

And he… Well. He absolutely hated it because there was nothing to be cheerful about.

Swirling the amber liquid in his glass, he let the alcohol burn down his throat, eyes focused on the fascinating girl that was sitting a few tables away from him.

She was beautiful in that old Bad Company T-shirt that had once been his, head thrown back and eyes twinkling as she laughed at something the blue-eyed man next to her had said. She looked happy and engaged in a conversation with a man that wasn’t him and he knew, no matter how much it pained him to admit it, that she wouldn’t be heading back to their table anytime soon.

And part of him realized that it shouldn’t bother him. He realized that he had no right to be jealous and that Y/N was free to do as she pleased but the sight of her so close to another man, laughing at his stupid jokes and looking at him like he was the moon and the stars hurt him. Because only minutes earlier she had been chuckling at his antics, arm brushing up against his and bright, wide smile playing at the corners of her lips ever every time she caught him staring.

And he wasn’t being possessive. Or, at least, not entirely. Surely, he hated the idea of someone else putting their hands on Y/N, abhorred the mere possibility of that asshole kissing her, tracing soft skin and curves with his fingers, doing all the things Dean wished he could but knew he’d be never able to.

And yet, he was aware that she wasn’t his to begin with.

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Music Series: Jealous by Nick Jonas

**Warning! First Music Series story that contains smut, so don’t say you weren’t warned! (If you prefer the MS stories stay pure and sweet, let me know. This story just kind of wrote itself, so it happened. Blame Harry, not me. I was apparently channeling him. :)

I love stories about Harry being possessive of you, not liking when men flirt with you and such. I have a story I may work into blog form where Harry is absolutely adorable in his jealousy, but for now, enjoy this!

Written to the song, “Jealous” by Nick Jonas. Link to this song on my Spotify playlist called, Singing In The Shower: https://open.spotify.com/track/2woCw59DHRIb1vcyQ2a7Ca

xo

Shelli

***********************

I don’t like the way he’s looking at you

I’m starting to think you want him too

Am I crazy? Have I lost ya?

Even though I know you love me, can’t help it

Harry watches as you primp in the mirror. You’re excited to be going out to a big party with him. Many times when Harry is invited to things such as these, you stay home, not wanting to interfere constantly in his career this way. You knew that most times, these events were business and publicity, a ‘girlfriend’ being in the way, and you weren’t offended by it…much.

But tonight was different. You had specifically been invited by the host to come with Harry. It had felt like ages since you’d had an occasion to glam up like this, and you were going to look hot! You dressed in one of Harry’s favorite dresses, one he bought for you while traveling, just knowing you would look beautiful in it. You layered soft curls around your head, and applied your makeup perfectly for a night out on the town. As you spritzed on some of Harry’s favorite perfume, you looked at him as he stared holes through you.

“What?” you ask, worried. “What’s wrong? Is it too much? Should I change? I was afraid I was overdoing…” you ramble as you start to take off the dress, but Harry grabs your hands and refuses to let you do it.

“Nooo,” he said, holding your hands in his as he stood behind you, kissing your neck and shoulder. “Don’t you touch a thing. You look beautiful!”

You smile and finish and soon find yourself sitting next to Harry in the back of the chauffeured car, his hand rubbing yours gently.

“You look amazing, babe,” he says, staring at you again. “Damn.”

“Not every night I get to dress up,” you smile, happy your man is pleased. “You’re looking incredibly hot yourself, you know.”

He smirks and kisses your cheek.

As Harry makes his rounds through the party, being sure to talk to those he should, and stopping to smile into camera lenses for some, he looks around and sees you talking to a small group of people, one man in particular hovering a bit too closely. Harry excuses himself and begins walking toward you as his jealousy bone itches.

I turn my chin music up and I’m puffing my chest

I’m getting red in the face, you can call me obsessed

It’s not your fault that they hover, I mean no disrespect

It’s my right to be hellish. I still get jealous

You feel Harry’s hand on your waist as he kisses your cheek and smiles at the group of people. Harry looks at the man who had been looking at you in a way that Harry did not like. He raises his eyebrows at the man, shooting him a cocky glare as he caresses your side with his hand.

“Having a good time, baby?” Harry asks you, loudly enough for the man to hear.

“A wonderful time!” you say with a giggle, your drink already affecting you slightly. You are such a light-weight with alcohol!

Harry sees how the guy is still looking at you, and unapologetically excuses the two of you to leave the group. You loop your arm around his waist and squeeze closely to him as you walk.

“Gotta keep my eye on you, kitten,” he says into your ear over the sound of the music playing throughout the large room. “Everyone in the room wants you.”

You laugh and roll your eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous,” you say as he shrugs his shoulders. “You’re the only one for me anyway.”

I wish you didn’t have to post it out

I wish you’d save a little bit just for me

Protective or possessive, yeah

Call it passive or aggressive

As the party continues, Harry is once again pulled from you as he speaks with some business contacts, and a friend in the business here and there. He watches as you talk with someone Harry recognized as a friend of yours, gleeful at seeing she was at the party, too. He smiles as he sees you grab the hand of your girlfriend and walk to the dance floor in the center of the huge room, making her dance with you to the loud music. You hold your phone out in front of the two of you, snapping photos to save as memories, and make kissy faces into the camera, then dance along, holding your friends hand, uncaring what anyone thinks. Harry thinks you’re adorable.

Soon Harry can’t help himself, making his way to the dance floor, dancing with both you and your friend, as people around the area take photos of the three of you. As the upbeat song ends, you hug your girlfriend, who wanders to find her date, and you start to walk off with Harry. But you feel Harry’s hand grab yours as a slow song begins and he pulls you tightly to his body. He smiles at you, kissing you lightly then resting his cheek against yours.

‘Cause you’re too sexy, beautiful

And everybody wants a taste

That’s why (that’s why)

I still get jealous

The feeling of being wrapped in Harry’s arms. The softness of his lips stealing kisses against your face and neck. The loving words whispered into your ear that only you can hear him say. In that moment, you are happy beyond words to be the person Harry has chosen to be with in his life. Your love for him ran deeply, and you had no hesitations in knowing he felt the same for you.

You’re the only one invited

I said there’s no one else for you

'Cause you know I get excited, yeah

When you get jealous too

As the two of you sway gently to the flowing music, you hear someone speaking next to you.

“Harry, may I get a photo with you, please?” the woman asked.

You turn and look at her, a bit unbelieving that she had ruined your beautiful moment together with Harry, then chuckling slightly at her balls, being unafraid to look at your man the way that she was.

Harry, being the kind, appreciative person that he always is, obliged the woman, giving you an apologetic look. You stepped away slightly, allowing her to get her photo with him, then waited for her to leave, but her balls were showing again as she continued talking to Harry and attempted a video with him. Harry saw the look on your face that she had such gall, and smirked slightly, teasing you by looking into the woman’s phone again and saying hi as she had requested.

As he giggles and turns again to see your reaction, his face fell slightly as he saw the man from before walk up behind you and speak into your ear, asking you to dance. You look at Harry with the same smirk he had just given you, but quickly remove it as you see his look change to one of anger.

I turn my chin music up and I’m puffing my chest

I’m getting red in the face, you can call me obsessed

It’s not your fault that they hover. I mean no disrespect

It’s my right to be hellish. I still get jealous

Harry stepped away from the woman with the phone without so much as another word and walked straight to you, putting his arm around your shoulder and leading you away from the man quickly. You feel Harry grab your hand tightly in his and weave quickly through the crowd of people, pulling you behind him. Harry drags you into a hallway and knocks on a bathroom door, then opens it swiftly, bringing you inside with him and locking the door from the other side.

Before you can say a word, Harry has you pushed up against the bathroom door, his mouth on yours, kissing you fiercely. You return his passion, biting his lip slightly, making him moan.

“You’re mine!” he says, breathing heavily through his nose, nostrils flared, teeth gnashed together. “Fuckin’ only mine!”

“Fuckin’ right I am!” you smart. “I was about to rip that woman’s head off if she touched you one more time.”

You see his lip quiver up on the corner into a smirk, then kiss you forcefully again. You feel his hands quickly reach up under your skirt, pulling your panties down, as your hands unfasten his trousers and drop them to the floor. Harry lowers his pants as you wrap your legs around him, back pressed firmly against the back of the door, and groan loudly into his mouth as he plows into you. Harry felt how wet you were for him.

“That for me?” he says. “Soaked for me, are you?” You nod and moan in confirmation as Harry hammers his cock into you. You hear the door rattle loudly with every thrust inside you…but Harry doesn’t seem to care that you could both be easily discovered, so neither do you. Kind of exciting, if you had to admit.

“My baby,” he growls against your ear, pumping his hips as his strong arms and hands keep you in perfect position. “Mine!” he says firmly, his throat clinched tightly.

“Only yours, Harry,” you assure him as you nibble his jawline.

He moans loudly as you feel him swell inside of you, causing your walls to grasp tightly around his dick. You hear his breathing become loud and raspy against your ear, feeling a slight perspiration at his temple against yours. You feel your body begin to quake against his as his cock shoots his bullet-like seed deeply, rhythmically into you. You feel the mixture of his cum and yours dripping out of you and down the insides of your thighs, as he slows his thrusts, kissing you breathlessly, the door no longer thumping under his attack.

He smiles at you, feeling proud of taking his girlfriend in the bathroom at a huge party. He kisses you again, pulling paper towels from the wall dispenser, cleaning between your legs for you, then wiping his own mess away. After a quick wash and redress, his lips find yours one more time, as he unlocks the door to open it.

“No eye contact with anyone. Straight to the car,” he says, lacing his fingers into yours as he holds tightly to your hand. “Not done with you yet.”

'Cause you’re too sexy, beautiful

And everybody wants a taste

That’s why (that’s why)

I still get jealous

Smitten Kitten (Chapter Four)

Welcome back! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

ADDITIONAL CHAPTERS

**********************

So it became this thing, then.

Every few days Tony would ask both Bucky and Steve to come downstairs, and they would cuddle up on the couch until Tony was happy and purring, turning in circles between the two of them, head butting against their palms, his tail wrapping around which ever wrist was closer.

Then he would shift back into human form in his bathroom, and spend several minutes hugging both of them before going back to work.

It was helping, and the team noticed.

Tony’s cheeks were always lit with a pretty flush, his smile a little softer. He was more openly affectionate with the team members instead of being caring but sarcastic from a distance. In fact, he had gone so far as to let Wanda in Constrictor form loop herself around him when she needed to be held and Vision was gone from the compound.

Tony had happily sat on the couch and let her slither and slide until she was comfortable, smiling the entire time. Natasha had partial shifted as she watched, her own protective instincts kicking in seeing Tony wrapped in all those coils.

Tony had simply rolled his eyes and motioned her to come sit next to him, waving away the smoke as she huffed uneasily.

And Bucky and Steve watched with fond smiles on their face, holding hands beneath the table, lost in their own thoughts about their cat shifter.

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anonymous asked:

Omg can you just imagine h being all drunk and giggly and the missus being sober but then he gets all upset over something and she has to calm him down :((

He starts sobbing hysterically from his position on the bed in the master bedroom, trousers pushed down by his ankles, boots still on his feet, shirt unbuttoned pushed open to allow his chest to be on full show and his boxers hanging low on his hips as he halted his movements in dressing for bed. Crying into his palms, heels digging into his eyes, because he doesn’t want to missus to leave the room because he thinks she won’t come back. And they wouldn’t just be drunken sobs that escape his throat, but, pained cries, as well. Crying out for her as she disappears into the bathroom to get him something cool to make himself less flushed, tears streaming down his face, nose running thickly and a string of saliva rolling down towards the dimple of his chin in rivulets.

Kneeling in front of him, with a wet flannel in her hands to wipe around his face and around his neck, and resting her forearms on his thighs, she brushes her fingers over his fuzz-dusted skin and frowns up towards him, concern lacing her features together as the tears dribble down his cheeks. Shining under the lamp-lit room from the bedside table, where her laptop and an open blog-post was left, “s’the matter, hm? Why are you cryin’?”

“Don’t want yeh t’ leave me,” he’d whimper, hands wrapping around her elbows in a tough hold to keep her close to him, to stop her from leaving him, “promise me, please. Promise me!”

“Peaches, stop this, you silly thing. You’re going to cry yourself sick and I don’t need to be cleaning sick at this time of the night,” she coos softly, hands falling from her arms as she stands up, “come on now. You’re getting upset over the silliest thing, aren’t you now? 

“Promise me,” he slurs softly, her hand cupping his chin as she begins to pat the cold flannel over his skin, dabbing around his cheeks and collecting the moisture left behind from his tears, “please?”

“Peaches, we’re pretty much tied to one another now,” she giggles, his eyes widening at her amusement, “we’re engaged, you silly thing. I’m going nowhere.”

“Yeh not promisin’ me!”

“I promise you,” she smiles, pressing her lips to his forehead, “I’m going nowhere, baby. You’ve got me for life or for however long you want me, okay? I love you,” she coos, letting his arms wrap around her middle, pulling her close to him as he buries his face into the t-shirt that bathed and swamped her torso, “come on, my drunk love. Let’s get you undressed and in bed. I think someone just needs a big cuddle tonight.”

“Li’l spoon?”

“Of course, Peaches.” xx

The night starts with a big, spicy Philly cheese steak. It’s about 6pm. I’ve been wanting to try the cheese steak from this corny, 50’s retro place for a long time. I gobble down the big greasy bowl of meat, hot sauce, and cheese, then head to the coffee shop for my weekly draw group. A little after I get home, about 10pm, a stomach ache comes on. “Damn, guess spicy foods are out.” I’ve been getting stomach aches every time I have spicy Thai or hot wings. I google search about spice pain- possible stomach ulcer? “I guess I have been stressed lately, but no more than usual I don’t think…” File under “Will investigate further later.“ According to the comments on this health website, a glass of milk will help. Gulp one down, go to bed.

Wrestle to sleep for about an hour. Realize the ache is just over the required pain threshold to keep you from sleeping. Do some work on my comic, more tired, but stomach worse. Will play batman until I fall asleep. I feel like I’m just running in circles… How many times have I failed this mission? Batman, batman, stomach now hurts too bad to enjoy an active task like video games. Deliriously tired. Would be great to sleep through the rest of this abdominal temper tantrum. Try the old “hot shower will make you sleep” trick. Take some Pepto-Bismol, and some generic acetaminophen. Out of the shower, hurts to walk around now, and to lie down. Guess I’ll have to wait it out with my eyes open. Call and leave my Doc a message, maybe will get a spot in there tomorrow. Need to get that ulcer discovered… Time to enjoy a passive task like watching TV. Breaking Bad feels like the right mixture of funny and painful, just like me and my burning spice belly. Damn, I can’t even enjoy that part where during Hank’s interrogation of that meth head, Wendy, she accuses Hank of trying to buy sexual services from her on behalf of an underage “football player” (a misunderstanding involving Walter Jr. from a few episodes before). Oh hell. Time to look up what time emergency medical clinics open. Guess I’ll have to pay out of pocket since I can’t wait for my Doc tomorrow.  It’s about 4am now. Earliest clinic opens at 8. Now hungry again, but can’t eat what with all the pain. One hour down. Man, this is really starting to hurt. Can I really wait 3 more hours? Sitting is starting to hurt as much as lying and standing. And I’m still not enjoying TV. Okay, I’ve come to a decision…. 

“Hey, Kayla, my stomach still hurts, I’m thinking about driving to the ER, do you wanna come?” “Oh! Ya, sure. What time is it?” “It’s 5:30”. I  call the hospital “Hey, I’ve had a pretty bad stomach ache all night, I’m thinking of coming by.” Operator: *long pause* “Haha, well, okay! We’re open all night, so just come on in.” 

Driving with a stomach ache is not so bad, because you’re already hunched over. Wish Kayla could drive, but she doesn’t really know how, probably would have a panic attack and would definitely crash. Interesting that they have ER parking, I wonder how many ER patients drive themselves here… All bodily positions hurt my insides now, signing in to this place sucks. Give Kayla half the paperwork to fill out, glad she’s here, or this would be really boring. Man, they sure take a long time for someone trying to get into an empty emergency room… Signing in with a nurse, she ask me my height and I say “ ‘5’’8”, but I notice she puts down “ ‘5’’7”… They want to look at my pee, they always want to see my pee. I pee, no blood, so whatever that tells them means I’m getting an ultrasound first. Then a young nurse named Ken, a cool Asian dude with screws through both ears, squirts so much morphine into my IV that I lean back and audibly say “oh my god.” I feel it ripple like a shock wave from my arm down to the ends of my body. My belly is feeling alright now. 

The ultrasound technician tells me that babies are the least common thing she uses ultrasounds for. My joke has fallen flat. Back in the room, the doctor and his manila folder tell me “Good news! No gallstones, there are kidney stones inside your kidneys, but since they are inside, you shouldn’t be feeling the pain from those.” “Wait, does that mean I have to pee those stones out at some poin–” It is not discussed again. Seeing that neither organ has the appropriate stones, Doc would “rather not expose me to more radiation than necessary” and is working on discharging me. But, “I won’t leave here without a diagnosis.” 

In I go to the CT scan tube. That hot squish of contrast dye spreading through my veins. “Okay, we’re moving you into a room upstairs.” Says a hippy technician. Upstairs in my sweet and swanky single with couch, a person I’m pretty sure is just a businessman disguised in medical scrubs types on a computer. He takes down my answers to what seem like pre-surgery questions. “Do you have anybody specific on file in the event you are medically unable to yield consent  for yourself?” This, combined fact that they won’t feed me, makes me wonder what it is I’m going into surgery for. I saw this same thing about a year and a half ago with the whole brain debacle, but that’s a story for another time. Several medical people dip in, sprinkle breadcrumbs of information; it’s like a game show challenge that combines a scavenger hunt with a jigsaw puzzle. You have to gather the pieces of information from their hiding places, then assemble them in the correct order to reveal an answer. A tech comes in and spoils the game, “You seem to have a lot of questions, so I just want to make sure, you know you have appendicitis right? We’re about to take it out.” “Thank god,” I think. “It’s not the spicy foods. Spicy foods are still in.” Downstairs, in pre-op, I complain to my plain-clothes surgeon about how analog tests like pressing on my stomach are remarkably inaccurate, since a doctor’s subjective interpretation of my poor description of say, “the pain is slightly higher” can rule out appendicitis, the same appendicitis that a machine might spot an hour later. I tell him that I almost got sent home. My surgeon tells me he’s been doing analogue tests for 30 years, and not to worry about it. I start to tell him how “my deadpan reaction to pain also causes a lot of people to misdiagnose me, that a lot of people laugh when I describe how I’m in pai–”, but he walks away in the middle to get dressed for surgery. The operating room has big TVs and lights, it looks like a set, and I consider the possibility of fake hospitals as the anesthesia takes the wheel.

In the recovery area, the nurse tells me how big, inflamed appendixes can be agitated by spicy foods, foods high in fat, and dense foods like heavy cheese. I see an image of a spotlit cheese steak appear in a black void. Nurse feeds me ice chips and tells me she craves ice chips when she’s dehydrated. I suggest that she only craves ice chips because she works in a hospital, that ice chips are too unsatisfying a thing to crave at random, and that most people would just crave water. She agrees. Back upstairs in my room, it is now 8pm, and it has been 26 hours since I’ve eaten. I’ve been hydrated only through IV’s. The driest mouth and the clearest pee. Because the lingering anesthetic can cause nausea and vomiting, they will only give me jello. I go nuts on the jello. They continue to give me every jello I ask for, one at a time, like a test. Way past where I though the cutoff point would be, the nurse tells me “That’s it! There’s no more jello! You ate all the jello on this floor.” You’re damn right I did, you’re damn right….

Six Years and Seven Days

This is pretending that Bellamy could hear Clarke talking all those years, she just can’t hear him responding, and that the ship at the end is them coming back to Earth. 

So…pain. 


Day Three

“Bellamy…are you up there? Are you alive? Is anyone alive?”

Static.

“I only woke up yesterday. At least, I think it was yesterday. I barely made it into the bunker in time, but I made it. And the computer says it’s been three days since the radiation hit, and I was so hungry I thought I might die. Please tell me you didn’t die.”

Silence.

“Bellamy, my mom was right. In a way. My face is disgusting, covered in boils. You’d be laughing at me…probably. Because she was right but so were you. I’m not dead Bellamy. I hope you aren’t either.”

His fingers slammed on the respond button, pushing it down to the point of it feeling like it would crack from the pressure.

“I’m not dead, Clarke. I’m not dead.”

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episode two :: Yuri realizes, suddenly and terribly, he might be a little bit in love.  


Victor doesn’t even try to go to sleep.  He just lays in bed with his laptop, watching the thirty-seven takes of Yuuri trying to get “hi, I’m Yuuri Katsuki, and I’m the Bachelor” out of his mouth.

Don’t they know who I am?” Yuuri slurs on screen.  

Yuuri, you have to put the champagne bottle down, you have to pretend to be sober,” Phichit says off camera, all authority gone from his voice.  He’s trying not to laugh.

Phichit,” Yuuri says, and he takes a big swig from the bottle, bubbles pouring down both sides of his lips. “You can’t tell me what to do.  I’m Yuuri Katsuki, and I’m the motherfucking Bachelor.

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Happy Tuesday.

I’m calling it “Yurio Catches Puberty” as a working title. (PG for swearing and puberty.) (Warning for body image stuff, very minor.) 

***

“WHEN WILL THIS BE OVER?”

The scream of anguish from the rink’s locker room shower made Yuuri look up sharply. He’d only arrived in St. Petersburg yesterday, but this couldn’t be normal, even if nobody else seemed to be paying the slightest attention.

“AUGH!”

It was definitely Yurio.

“Yurio?” he started to ask, but Georgi clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Don’t engage,” he hissed.

Yuuri looked at him, wide-eyed.

“What’s going on?” he whispered, as Yurio began a steady, at least quieter stream of cursing in Russian, then English, then Japanese that Yuuri definitely hadn’t taught him.

“Puberty,” Georgi said.

Yuuri blinked. “Puberty?” he asked.

Georgi gave him a disgusted look. “Of course,” he mumbled to himself. “The golden boy didn’t suffer puberty…”

He wandered off, now also cursing, and Yuuri had ten seconds of silence before Yurio kicked the shower door open and strode out, towel around his waist.

(There is a readmore below! Read more!)

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heartbreak chronicles {1} | M

 PT 1 | PT 2ONGOING

Contains: bad crack, smut {fuckboy!jimin}

Words: 10,164

Summary: Park Jimin had it all — good grades, a place as the soccer team’s captain and, more than that, the broken hearts of at least half the campus’ population. Though, one thing he did not have was someone willing to break his heart and, after you were dragged inside a miraculous plan to play that part, the last thing counted on was the preposterous idea that, perhaps, you could fall for him as well.

[img cr]

A/N: I tried out a “lighter” writing style for… whatever this is. Hope you guys like it! | This fic is based on the movie “John Tucker must die” | SUB!BTS COLLAB

The girl’s request echoed on the warm air of your living room, dancing on silence as your body was covered in shock. For an instant, you truly believed you had misheard her words, replacing them for something much more unrealistic. Regardless, as the quietude fell like a blanket over the two of you, you noticed, at last, that your friend could not be more serious. “You want me to do what?” You finally asked, flabbergasted.

The night had started normally — and that was all that you could ever wish for. All that you wanted was to rest after an exhausting week, merely putting your your pajamas and watching shallow TV shows until your tiredness forced you to go to sleep. You wanted to get some pizza and gossip with your roommate about the most frivolous of subjects, allowing for the storm of stress and unfinished projects to disperse from around your head.

However, she had a different idea of how that night would unfold. “We want you to break his heart,” Lisa told you with utter serenity, as if the words that had left her mouth were no more than mundane. “Thought that was quite clear.”

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hugealienpie  asked:

I see prompts are open yay! Please tell me all about Ford finding out about Bitty and Jack.

Ooh, this is interesting, because I don’t feel like it’d be an announcement, but just something Ford finds out when Jack visits or the like. I mean, it could go the other way, like Lardo could be, “heads up, Bitty’s dating our ex-captain” and Ford would be like, “okay? why are you telling me?” (She’s a theatre background, what is a Bad Bob to her?) I think she’d be pretty chill with it, and coming from theatre, like being gay is not an issue, esp in college (and even at the professional level) and esp if we go with the oft reblogged “Ford is gay” headcanon.

But here is a small fic that is only half based on the above…

Ford double checks the dozens of pages Lardo has given her for the upcoming roadie. She thought dealing with dressing room allocation was hard (and it is, one hundred percent) but figuring out room allocations is somehow worse, particularly when she’s new, and hockey players are more superstitious than the girl who played Johanna in Sweeney.

“So, who was it I’m meant to pair Oliver with?” Ford asks, grabbing for the red pen she’d stuck into her bun earlier. She comes out with a green one. It’ll do.

“Wicks. But really, he’d be fine with any of the guys in his year.”

Ford makes a note on one of the pages. “Okay, then I think I’m–Oh, shit.”

“What is it?” Lardo looks up from her sketchbook.

Ford double checks through all her sheets before she says anything. She’s not worrying, because there’s no time for that, she’s just already hating the amount of extra work she’ll need to do to fix things.

“I’ve left Eric, um, Bitty,” Ford corrects herself, still getting used to hockey nicknames, “off the rooming list.”

“Oh, that. Nah, you’re good.” Lardo goes back to her drawing. “He stays with his boyfriend when we’re playing up there.”

“Boyfriend?” Ford double-checks.

“Yeah. He’s in Providence. And he’ll drive Bitty to the games and practices and stuff. Should’ve emailed you that. My bad.”

“That’s fine.” Ford grabs another pen from her hair, forgetting she already has one in front of her. It’s red this time. “Just thought I was going to have to redo an entire afternoon’s worth of work.”

“Right,” Lardo says. “I can see why the minor freak out.”

“Excuse you, I did not freak out.” It’s half a lie. Ford has so many notes on these sheets, but she’s not freaking out, she’s managing. It’s all part of it.

Lardo looks up and smiles at her. “Knew you’d be fine at this.”

Ford takes the compliment with a gracious nod, and goes back to ticking off the rooming list against the team names. All accept Eric.

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Power Rangers Living Together Headcanon

Created with the help of the lovely @catyz101 and the wonderful @vintagecarter go ahead and give them a follow please.

- Two years after the attack, when the rangers graduate highschool, they decide to build a house together in the mountains near the ship.

-When goldar went down billy managed to save a lot of gold
“Like my dad said, you find it you keep it”
Needless to say they’re fucking loaded.

-Kim and Trini adopted a cat courtesy of her brothers. The twins found him and managed to keep him for a week before their mom found out and he was sent to live with Trini.
“Take care of gato for us”
“Wait you named i-”
“GATO, is in great hands”

-The cat loves everyone but Zack and Jason. Every time the cat cuddles up to Billy “traitor” can be heard faintly whispered through the house.

-Zack goes to the kitchen at 1 in the morning and finds the cat just sitting there staring at him, they have a staring contest for two mintues until he slowly backs away back into his room.

-They rotate dinner every night. They all make something thats authentic to them but the weekends are take out nights. It an unspoken rule of the house

-Zack almost breaking his neck doing a double take on Trini leaving from Kim’s room in the early morning

-“ITS NOT A WALK OF SHAME IF ITS YOUR OWN HOUSE” Kim passing by headed to the kitchen “you are definitely doing the walk of shame babe.”
“KIMBERLY”

-Billy quietly comments from the back “why are you so surprised, thats the 5th time this week.”
“Billy, its tuesday”

- “Hello, yes, i found your number in the yellow pages i was calling to tell you that MY BEST FRIEND JUST GOT LAID also a large pizza please”

-Trini watches a novella one day outta habit, and suddenly Jason and Zack are addicted. “No, trini you cant change the channel we are watching that!”

-Kim puts pink hair dye in her shampoo to figure out who keeps using it. The culprit was Jason…… and Trini

-“Who the fuck put jello in the toilet”
“You see its not actually jello its this silicone-”
“BILLY?!”
“I’ll take it you’re upset with me….”

-Theyre the hardware stores best customer. The owner thinks they own a construction company. He is yet to be corrected

-One day the boys come back from the store early and hear a scream in the house. They all barge in too kims room and walk in on the girls.
“Oh my god GET OUT”
Billy closes his eyes and runs smack into the wall putting a hole in it while jason and Zack are running out dodging pillows.

-“Steve come here girl” “Zack we are not naming our dog Steve” “what about zordon?” “you wanna name my daughter after wall dad? How dare?” “you were about to name her Steve?!” “Personally i thik she looks like a Steve…” “Thank you billy”

-“Oh well if it isnt satan himself coming to visit my room when it does not belong here!” “Guys the cat isnt that bad”
“Billy do not speak on matters that do not concern you”

-“Who taught you savages to do the laundry?” “Trini relax.” “Relax? Jason, Isnt it bad enough my hair is pink but now my white tshirts are too because Zack put your shirts in with mine.”

-“Hey yellow, pink, your hell cat just attacked steve.”
“Do you dare slander my cats good name?! YOU CAN MEET ME IN THE PIT!!”

-They have color coded bath Towels. Zack likes to steal someone elses each week which isnt a problem until he struts out the bathroom in pink towels when Kim’s parents come to visit.

-“I know DAMN well i had last nights episode of Rupauls drag race recorded who DELETED IT?!?” “Sorry Zack that may have been me, but dont worry i have it recorded on my tv too” “Billy, you are my hero”

-Gato steals steves bed all the time and its the leading cause of argument in the house.

- “Satan’s spawn please, my daughters bed is too big for you and she cannot sleep in your small bed” hiss hiss “Okay that was rude” hiiiisss “TRINI! CONTROL YOUR SON AND GET HIM OUTTA MY DAUGHTERS BED RIGHT NOW”

-Fire alarm goes off at six in the morning. Multiple voices are heard screaming “KIM” from 4 seperate rooms

-She was just making toast.

Why People Fall In Love

Muses: Jeon Jungkook.
Words: 4.7k words of cringe worthy fluff.
Type: fwb!au + fake dating!au
Note: This is another my ‘to be posted’ scenarios, posted.  Yay. :D

+ An agreement to become Jungkook’s fake girlfriend and a trip back to his hometown lets you see more of the Jeon Jungkook who you think is only made of Friday hookups and boyish charms.

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin


“So let me get this straight, your brother’s bringing his girlfriend home for dinner this weekend and you ‘sorta’ blurted out that you have a girlfriend too just because you want to prove that he’s wrong about you not being able to keep a girl?”

Sheepishly, Jungkook smiles and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorta.”

At his nonchalance, you lightly smack his chest; it’s not like he’s going to feel anything if you straight out punch him anyway. “He’s totally right!”

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anonymous asked:

honestly, my favourite tony trope is him surviving so much bullshit that everyone starts to believe that he's actually immortal. Villains start just giving up on actually killing him, and either incapacitate him or make sure he's unavailable when they start the fight. Some of the more egotistical ones go out of their way to try. There's many conspiracy theories about him, and how it's possible that he's survived. One of his favourite pastimes is reading the more outlandish ones. (Tree)

Listen. It’s common knowledge among the villains of the world. If you’re anywhere close to being a professional Badguy, then you’ve heard the stories. You know the rumours.


Tony Stark Does Not Die. So for God’s sake, do not be stupid enough to try.


Some of the newbies, they ask. They wonder why no-one tries to shoot a fatal hit, why they never even bother to go for Iron Man. 

The older, more weary villains just roll their eyes and mutter “don’t wanna waste my firepower. Save your shots for the ones that will actually stay dead, kid,”

“That asshole crawled out of a cave with a hole in his chest and still managed to kick everyone’s ass,” someone pipes up moodily from the corner.

There’s a sudden bang as a hand slaps on the counter, and the newbie turns to see another grim-looking villain.“I once shot straight through him. Laser right through the stomach. You know what that piece of shit did?” The guy gestures to his lack of foot. “He Goddamn turned around and shot my leg off! and then he just sort of looked down and shrugged at his own fatal wound. He told me I had it worse, and that he was ‘sorry’. Who even does that?”

“I crushed him,” says another, “he just buried out the other way and then caught me a day later. It took me years to get out of prison.”

“I planted a virus in his suit while he was thousands of miles above sea, and not only did he defend it, but he traced my source and sent it back. Thousands and thousands of dollar’s worth of tech, gone,” someone shouts miserably from across the room. “He didn’t even have a fucking keyboard! Every line of code was verbal! He spoke and memorised those lines faster than I could type them, and I goddamn invented the thing!”

A bottle of… something, flies across the room. Obviously everyone is very bitter about this.

The newbie, because they’re always like this at the start; over-confident and stiflingly cocky, puffs their chest and looks them all in the eye. “you just haven’t been thinking about it hard enough. I’ll kill him. Just watch.”


Everyone descends into hysterical laughter. Someone is crying. No one in the room is Okay. 


“Whatever you say, whatever you think or plan, he’s one step ahead. Don’t, for your sake, please. Take Thor. Or Cap. Or maybe the Widow, if you’re feeling brave? But just… don’t waste your time with him. Try and keep him away, instead. That’s all we can ask for,” says someone next to her, obviously taking pity.

“He might be smart, but he’ll have no idea what’s coming when I step on the scene!” Newbie growls. “Listen-”




A few miles across, Tony Stark listens to the whole conversation via a bug he planted in the known Villain Hiding-Spot, and smiles smugly.

“Damn straight,” he mutters, before calling in the rest of the Avengers to gloat.

→ all that is gold (m)

Originally posted by chimtae


Sub!BTS collab

pairing → Taehyung x Reader

genre → roommate!au + sugar baby!au, smut, angst

warnings sub!taehyung, skype sex, masturbation, orgasm denial, possessiveness, slight breath play, oral sex, dirty talk, thigh riding, tae ends up sort of a switch? idk

☆ word count → 11.2k

☆ summary → As a college student struggling to make ends meet, Taehyung resorts to a less than ethical method to satisfy his appetite for expensive treats. The last thing he wants is for you to find out how he acquires the Gucci in his closet… however this proves to be difficult when you are his roommate.

or : Taehyung is a sugar baby and somehow thinks he can keep this a secret


☆ a/n → ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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Any idea how many gay jokes there are?

I just want to point out something. A joke is only funny when it isn’t used ad nauseam.

So, basically, when can we say this isn’t a joke but that there’s serious intent? How many times before we can rightfully say: this isn’t a joke, this is a pattern. This isn’t a bonus, this is the heart of the text?

10? 15? 20? One per episode? Twice per episode?

(Brace yourself)

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An observation of Markiplier TV

Emphasis on the observation part because I’ve never really been good with theories. I have a number of things to do today but unfortunately, I watched this video and now I can’t stop thinking about it. Hopefully this’ll quiet my mind and let me function, and who knows? Maybe it’ll help someone out there with their own theories too. :)

So, let’s talk about this scene:

We got one hell of a group here BUT what I’d like to focus on is their seating arrangement and what that could mean, because if there’s anything I’ve learned in videos like this it’s that EVERYTHING is by design. This entire table scene (props to the Editor btw) has so much hidden psychological subtext in it, so while I’m no professional I’ll still do my best to uncover them all.

First off, let’s look at the table: Rectangular with two long ends and two short ones. Pretty normal setting yeah, but is it beneficial to their situation (i.e. finding a way to ‘take control’) where everyone easily agrees? Nope. Because tables like these embody competition and a clear sense of authority, and I love this detail. It means that while they could’ve easily gone for a round table to promote cooperation, they go for this because of course, no one’s going to cooperate that easily.

This setting, however, works better in the business cooperative world, because you got two people (Darkiplier & Wilford) who can control the meeting from both ends of the table and are essentially the people everyone will need to look up to.

Here’s a great detail though: In this kind of setting, the more powerful of the two is usually the one opposite the entrance to the room. This allows him not just a vantage point of whoever comes in and goes, but complete control as well. And as we see where King of the Squirrels pops up:

Originally posted by antisepticjack

Which we can easily tell was from the right of the room based on the direction his body and eyes shift to, we can point out where the entrance is and who was right there:

But yeah, in this moment it didn’t seem like Will had control over King’s sudden entrance but let’s face it: he doesn’t care. He already knows that there’s more than one king in that room.

Speaking of, let’s move on to the seating arrangement.

Obviously we got Dark and Will at the ends as the higher ups, but I’d like to talk about Googleplier and The Host.

In medieval times, kings would often have their advisors right at their side at the table. This actually explains the term “right hand man”, because the king would have them close at hand to help him rule, unless of course, he was left-handed. Looking back at Dark’s antics, I have reason to believe that he’s either left-handed or ambidextrous.

Originally posted by http-darkiplier-403forbidden

Which I guess would make sense, considering that while Ed, Bim, Silver and Dr. Iplier were all concerned about their parts in the video, only Google and The Host were able to keep a level head and not lose sight of their main goal/situation.

Now the last thing I want to talk about is Wilford’s idea for Markiplier TV. I must warn you though because this is going to be a bit of a stretch so stop reading if you’d like BUT… I think he may have been inspired by Anti.

AGAIN, please bear with me. Jack’s mentioned before that Dark and Anti ever meeting each other was very unlikely, which in Dark’s case (being the alter ego that’s been pushed inside the most) could be more than true. However, Wilford makes up for this as he’s the only one not bound by the laws of physics and is, potentially, omnipresent. So it’s possible that he’s aware of Anti (since he was aware of Septiplier after all) and his methods (i.e. using social media to have his fans notice him which then gives him control) BUT, being Wilford, he goes about it in his own roundabout way which is, of course, TELEVISION.

So, yeah, this is all I can come up with. Excluding my attempt in theorizing at the very end I hope this was helpful. Now I’m just hoping that my thoughts on Antisepticeye don’t get too hectic and end up like this long wall of text. Thanks for reading. :)

anonymous asked:

Hey! If you're still taking prompts, could you write about neil and Andrew having a conversation about Neil's past? Like the stuff he had to do to survive and the stuff he went through with the worlds shittiest parents? Also I'm pretty sure neil has killed people like it makes complete sense so maybe andreil talking about that?

There’s a band of pale blue light nipping at the tops of the trees and sharpening the silhouettes of the houses, but everything else is fresh and dark. Andrew smokes with the pack clenched in his fist, the cherry of the cigarette winking at the street lamps winking at the orange moon.

Their front porch isn’t like the rush of the rooftop, but he can get that same jitter of fear from Neil nowadays, and he’s more portable. He’d left him knotted in the bedsheets an hour ago, and knowing he’s inside somewhere at his back is burning him up. Andrew inhales and focuses on the exhale, the way the smoke still tries to hurt him when it should’ve given up. He likes that nicotine doesn’t leave him alone.

Neil slips out the front door and lets the screen door clatter, and Andrew knows that he’s upset before he sits down two steps below Andrew, holding his own head.

He doesn’t ask; just smokes fervently. The moon bobs its head sympathetically, wind catches the smoke and breaks it over Neil’s head like water on rocks.

It occurs to Andrew that Neil isn’t going to start this conversation, because he likes to think things through on his own, solve them wrong, and tell Andrew about his mistakes later. He’s insufferably convinced of his own problem-solving abilities, then obsessed with the mechanism of his own missteps.

“What?” Andrew asks impatiently. He flicks ash from his cigarette and holds it out in front of Neil’s face. Neil sidles through his own tangled thinking for long enough to glance up. He leans forward and sucks the smoke from between Andrew’s fingers.

When he looks away, gusting smoke from his open mouth, he says, “Matt called. We fought.”

You fought,” Andrew guesses.

Neil looks agitated, blue in the choked light, eyes black and furious. “He was being unfair. He keeps trying to tell me what’s right or wrong lately, because he thinks I’ve been— been deprived, like my experiences were outside of humanity, or morality, and it’s so— condescending.”

“You’re only realizing this now? All of the foxes are condescending. It is the only way they can avoid their own failure.”

“This was different,” Neil says, shaking his head. “I can tell when they’re saying things because they want to see my reaction, and this wasn’t that. He meant what he was saying.”

“And what was that?”

Neil goes gagged silent. He shifts backwards up to Andrew’s stair without looking at him, settling into the groove worn into the wood.

“That killing someone makes you a monster. That murder is the worst thing you can do to a person.”

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