hell jumper

Burning Love - Part One

A broken heater results in a need for body heat.

I have lots of requests. But I seem to write things that fit none of them. Story of my life.


‘Spence, has your heating and hot water gone off too?’ You moaned into the phone.

‘Yeah, can’t believe this has happened in the middle of December. I will be surprised if I’m not already in the early stages of hypothermia.’ He replied, as you laughed.

‘Do you wanna come down here and keep me company?’ You asked.

‘Absolutely, we can freeze to death together.’ Spencer said, before hanging up, leaving you smiling as you clutched your phone.

Keep reading

Helljumper, Helljumper, where you been?
Feet first into hell and back again!
When I die please bury me deep!
Place an MA5 down by my feet!
Don’t cry for me, don’t shed no tear!
Just pack my box with PT gear!
Cuz one early morning ‘bout zero-five!
The ground will rumble, there’ll be lightning in the sky!
Don’t you worry, don’t come undone
It’s just my ghost on a PT run!
Forgotten Moments

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes X Reader

Requested: Yes

Anon: I have a request for Sherlock x Reader if you feel up for it. Maybe like one day Sherlock does an experiment on one of the readers favorite things they own and so the reader gets angry and Sherlock has to make it up to her? I would love it if you wrote this but I understand if you don’t.

A/N: Here it is! Thank you all so much for supporting my first Sherlock fic, I hope this one meets your expectations! I’m sorry if it is not very good… Thank you so much for the request sweet anon! Enjoy!

*****

You open the door to the flat, expecting to see a typing Watson with an observing Holmes looking over his shoulder, but instead, you were greeted by a bloody living room and a pacing Sherlock, drenched head to toe in the red substance.
You spot John in a somewhat clean corner, looking extremely fed up.

“Sherlock!” you say loudly, trying to grab the attention of your boyfriend. “What is going on here? It looks like a crime scene!”

“Experiment.” he simply replies as if it were obvious, tending back to the severed head that was sitting on the floor. The head that you hadn’t noticed before. The head that was sitting right beside a disheveled looking body. It looked freshly dead. How you knew, you weren’t exactly sure, you just picked up a few things after spending enough time around Sherlock.

Your eyes widened and you glanced at John, locking eyes with him. Silent words were exchanged and you both sighed at the same time. This was quite normal behaviour for Sherlock.

“Where did you-” John starts before Sherlock cuts him off.

“Molly let me take it. I call him John.”

It was John’s turn to look at you in shock as his eyes widened.

“Doe.” Sherlock then says, releasing John from his state of terror.

“Ah, alrighty then… you don’t even know who this person is.” John mutters the last part under his breath. “Well, couldn’t you have had the decency to leave it at the morgue?!”

“Relax John, at least he hasn’t blown up the flat again,” you say, maneuvering yourself so that you avoided the blood covering the floor while searching for a mop. You sigh again as you examine the flat drenched in blood. “Though Sherlock, maybe you should consider laying down a towel or a few sheets over the floor and furniture the next time you decide to do a messy experiment-”

You stop in your tracks when you spy something out of the corner of your eye. Your heart sinks when you realize that your favourite jumper underneath the head, soaking up the excess blood.

“Sherlock!” you shout, startling both Sherlock and John. “You used my jumper as a freaking towel?”

“I’m sorry?” Sherlock answers with a look of confusion and your heart breaks a little at the sound of his voice. He really didn’t know what he had wrecked.

“And it’s ripped!”

“I needed to cover more surface area, besides, it’s just a jumper (Y/N), you have plenty. Heck, you could wear one of John’s and people wouldn’t even question whether or not it was yours.”

John nods, before realizing that he had just been insulted and his face contorted into a frown.

“Hey! I am proud of my taste in jumpers!” he exclaims. “But even I am a little confused. What’s so special about this particular jumper?”

You sigh. It was true that you might’ve been overreacting but you held that jumper close to your heart because…

“It was the first gift Sherlock had ever given me,” you whisper, eyeing the stained jumper sadly. “Sure, at that time it was simply an act of kindness, not love. A Christmas gift. But I wanted to keep it as a memory, sort of like a memento that would mark the baby steps of our relationship.”

Sherlock blinks and cocks his head to the side as if he was trying to remember. You look at him sadly when his infamous face of realization remains absent.

“Hmm. I can’t seem to remember ever giving you that jumper. Hell, I don’t even remember buying it.” he says and your sadness turns into anger, your face turning a light shade of red.

“How could you not remember?” you yell, close to tears. “Maybe it is stupid that that jumper meant so much to me, but again, maybe you’re just too inhumane to understand.”

Sherlock looks taken aback but he doesn’t admit that he’s sorry.

“Look, (Y/N), I’ve told you this before. Only useful things go into my mind. You fill your head up with rubbish like memories and feelings, while I delete them because they are not important. That’s the difference between me and everyone else.”

You look at the man in front of you and sigh. You thought that you would then be the one who could fix him. That you were the one that would save him from the monster within. It was a long shot back then, but now, you weren’t sure if there was even anything left to save.

“I’m not sure if you remember, but this isn’t the first time you’ve done something like this,” you say, turning your back to him, your hair flying like a whip. You head towards your room, regardless of blood in your way. At this point, you simply didn’t care.

“If it involved anything to do with feelings then I probably don’t.” he answers and your tears finally start to fall.

“I expect the flat to be free of blood or dead corpses the next time I walk out of this door,” you say before entering your room. “And Sherlock? You’ve just proved my point; you said ‘delete’, as if you are some soulless machine. Is that all you are? Am I dating a robot? Many people have warned me and I refused to believe them but now? Now, I’m starting to think that’s true.”

You slam the door as Mrs. Hudson walks in.

“Hoohoo - oh my. What’s going on here?”

*****

“You just refuse to lose, don’t you?” John groans as he mops the floor. He glares at Sherlock who was sprawled on his chair, his long limbs dangling almost lifelessly, not bothering to help clean up. “Sherlock!”

“She’s just overreacting!” he finally exclaimed. “She can’t expect me to keep track of every single-”

“And she doesn’t expect you to keep track of everything,” Mrs. Hudson interrupts from behind. Sherlock glares at her for interrupting him but he doesn’t say anything. “She’s not angry at you for destroying her sweater, well she is but she’s more hurt from the fact that you don’t care. She knows that you lack some compassion and therefore she is forgiving and willing to let some things go, but you also have to give in to complete your side of the deal, it’s about balance.”

“I’m sorry, but what do you know about relationships? Your last one ended badly and I ensured his execution!”

Mrs. Hudson looked a little hurt by Sherlock’s outburst but she didn’t say a thing for she assumed that this was probably one of the only relationships he had ever had and was still getting used to everything.

“Well, at least Mrs. Hudson doesn’t go around burning gifts like deer stalkers and violins. A freaking violin, Sherlock! She gave you a violin and you loved it, then you just turn around and set it to flames?” John exclaims, letting his mop drop to the floor.

“I forgot she gave them to me, besides, they were experiments.”

“And that one time you put a stray eyeball in her cup of tea. She freaked and dropped her favourite cup!” Mrs. Hudson adds in.

Sherlock scoffs, “That was on her, she broke it.”

John shakes his head and points his finger at Sherlock, making sure he looked him in the eye. “As Mrs. Hudson said, she’s more hurt because you do not bother to remember or empathize or even admit you’re sorry. From now on, the least you could try to do is remember. Moments, and feelings. In the end that’s all we have left in life Sherlock. And she knows that. I know you love her, so go and prove it to her. Show her that you do remember, care and cherish moments-”

“But I don’t-”

“Yes, you do. Somewhere in that thick head of yours are forgotten moments that you’ve decided to lock up. I know you haven’t deleted them, Sherlock. Now let her know too.”

And that’s when Sherlock realized that John was right.

“Possibly for the first time in his life,” Sherlock mutters under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

*****

“Go away.” you mutter from the floor as Sherlock closes the door gently behind him, trapping you inside your room. Great, he was the last person you wanted to spend time with right now.

He walks over and kneels down in front of you. Your try to avoid eye contact but he lifts your head with his hands, forcing you to look at him.

“I don’t want an object to define our relationship. Because objects break, and that is not something I want to see happen to us. I don’t need objects and past moments reminding us of our love because I don’t need to remember that our love is real. Because I know.” he takes a deep breath before continue, his words flowing quickly.

“I may have trouble remembering moments I find silly or unimportant, however it is clear that you don’t think of them the same way I do. And I am willing to do my best to make you happy, even it means remembering every gift given, every moment spent together and giving up an experiment that could’ve been a scientific breakthrough.”

A single tear falls down his cheek and he pressed his forehead to yours.

“I’m a breaker, (Y/N). I wreck almost everything I touch. Every object, every life, but the one thing I will do my damn hardest not to break is your heart.”

anonymous asked:

John Watson is

A softe, cute af, sexy as hell, wears the best jumpers, licks his lips numerous times, Jealous of everything that touches Sherlock, loves to eat chinese(probably will eat Sherlock if he gets the chance), drinks tea, has the cutest hair, married an assassin, walks in a very specific way, has a big dick, kinda closeted, has ptsd, Very much human, very very much in love with Sherlock Holmes.

Originally posted by sherlockspeare

(John approves of the list :>)

American Ways - Sirius Black x Reader

Request : @claireisreallynotonfire  hello my dear!!! could you do a sirius x reader where the reader is a transfer from ilvermorny in like the 6th year and immediately hits it off with the marauders. and sirius is infatuated with her, always calling her pet names, flirting, hugging, and touching and stuff. and reader just thinks it’s a joke but one day sirius gets mad bc she’s not taking him seriously ( lol pun ) and they end up together bc i really need some fluff with a teaspoon of angst. thanks love
Warnings: My English? Language (always lol). Late night, crappy writing.  The image isn’t mine. Credits to its original owner. Also, I am so sorry for making you wait this long but the new semester has already taken a toll on me. 
Word Count: 1848
MASTERLIST
Pending Requests


It was one thing being the new student but it was completely another thing being the center of attention. It felt weird and… you kind of felt like you were an exhibit when people would stare or point at you. Yeah, okay, maybe you were the ‘American girl’ and yes, you had an accent and blah blah, but you hoped that after a day or two, they would leave you alone. You were being bombarded with questions about Ilvermorny, about your country, about the male population and so on. Well, that happened until four boys had walked on you and literally grabbed your arms and dragged you all the way to the Gryffindor common room. You were about to protest when you realized that they were doing you a favor. You had grown tired of answering the same questions and being looked at… strangely. So, you never really complained. When they finally let go, you just smiled and greeted them.
“Hello, boys. Thanks for the rescue” you simply said. They didn’t expect that-far from it, actually.
That’s when you became a ‘gang’ as you named it. They were punks and jerks but they were amazing people and really funny. You had no idea why you hit it off so fast but it felt natural. James was the love-struck one, with his hazel eyes and his messy black hair. Lily-pad, Lily-flower and so on, the poor girl must suffer from those awful nicknames. Remus was the ‘dad’; he was a bit more mature and poised but you could see the mischief in his soft caramel eyes. Peter was the little guy, blushing and being quieter than the others, but he was a Marauder after all. And then, it was Sirius. That guy didn’t know how to talk to a girl without flirting with her. His gray eyes would roam the girl’s body, he would be touchy as fuck when he wanted something, he would use cheesy pickup lines and he would always find a reason to pull off his shirt. He had a nice body, yes, you weren’t blind… you could see it. But it was ridiculous how many times he pulled that damn shirt off. In the brief week, you knew them, it must have been ten times already-and the week wasn’t over yet.  


It was official. Sirius Black was the biggest flirt you had ever known. The guy would flirt with you without hesitation, he would call you names, be touchy even clingy. And today was no exception.
You were able to stroll around the castle without getting lost like the first weeks. After all, it was almost Christmas. You had to admit that Hogwarts was breathtaking covered in snow. Everything seemed so magical, so serene and so otherworldly. Ilvermorny might held your mind- your friends were there, your ex-boyfriend, your beloved teachers- but Hogwarts stole your heart. You had made more friends than you could believe. Lily was a Muggle-born, as they called them, but she was the brightest witch of her age and uncommonly kind. That last trait seemed to vanish every time James was around, though. She had admitted that she liked him a lot but she could never agree on a date if he was going to ask her three or more times a day. It was infuriating. You had helped James a lot and for that he was grateful. You had told him to leave her be for a while. It was tough for him and you couldn’t help but chuckle every time he opened his mouth only to close it again and walk away. Lily thought it was strange but she missed his crazy ways-and that’s when you played cupid and informed James. And they had the most romantic date ever. Not thanks to him but thanks to you and strangely enough, Sirius. He could be romantic when he wanted to. But that was a very rare sight to witness.
Remus was probably the one you were closest with. He was so kind and sweet but he could be cocky and sarcastic that he could out throne Sirius himself. You had put two and two together relatively easy but you didn’t care. If anything, you wanted to help him in any way you could but you were going to let him tell you, whenever he felt like he could trust you enough to do so. You were in the Great Hall, eating breakfast-well, you were drinking a cappuccino(Dumbledore’s courtesy)- with Remus while you were waiting for the other three troublemakers to appear. It was a cold, breezy morning, but it felt so refreshing you didn’t mind wearing two jumpers. It was just a day before the full moon and he was worn out already but he had his nose stuck in a book, nevertheless. You placed a chocolate bar in front of him and he caught the action as he looked worriedly at you.
“Eat. You’ll feel better, Moony” you said, emphasizing his nickname. He was smart and he got it immediately. A relaxed smile was plastered onto his lips as he understood that you weren’t going to go anywhere.
“Hello, beautiful” a silky voice greeted you. You didn’t really want to admit it but you were smitten. You truly liked him. You liked his steely gray eyes, his aristocratic features, his tousled dark, long locks, his toned torso and his delicate hands. But most importantly, you liked the real him. Not the flirtatious, cocky jerk but the one you had the pleasure of meeting one very cold and lonely night. You couldn’t sleep and you were sitting by the common room’s fireplace. That night you had seen the real Sirius. The one behind the façade and the masks. The one who suffered the effects of insomnia because of his past, the one who was always too scared that he would lose his friends. That Sirius spoke to your heart. And you found yourself falling… hard.
“Hello, handsome” you greeted back with a playful smile. That was just his thing. He would flirt with you but you never thought he meant it. Like, how could he? You had accepted the fact that you didn’t really stand a chance with him. He was out of your league. He could have any girl he wanted and of course, you weren’t one of them. He just played with you-not in a bad way, but still. It was just a game. You couldn’t resist, though. You had to play as well.
He sat next to you, his hand resting on your knee and his mouth forming a devilish smirk. He kept his eyes fixed on you until you felt uncomfortable.
“You’re staring” you commented, hoping that he will stop playing the damn game.
“I’m gazing” he retorted nonchalantly, as he drew patterns with his fingers on your thigh. He had to stop.
“It’s creepy” you tried to sound stern but you failed miserably. You smiled and shrugged it off as he whispered under his breath, something you couldn’t possibly believe you had heard correctly.
“It’s romantic”. Yeah, you had probably heard wrong.

You continued ignoring him and his flirty ways for a couple of hours. You had to give it to him. He had upped his game. Today, he was extra touchy, extra flirty, extra huggy, extra clingy, extra…
You tried to make it to your next class in time, he had to carry your books. You tried to eat lunch, he had to pile up your plate. You had forgotten your quill, he had to give you his. Somebody tried to flirt with you, he had to smack your bum- that was the final hit.
You were alone in the common room, as it was already after midnight, trying to study. James had fallen asleep holding Lily, Peter was all cuddly with Mary and Remus… well, Remus was actually studying. But you didn’t miss the side looks he was giving you.  
When that guy had come up and told you that you looked very beautiful in that jumper, all hell had broken loose. Sirius marked you- yes, he did- as his when you weren’t and you didn’t even have a chance. Once the guy left and you were among friends, you snapped at him and scowled him, waking up the sleepy heads.
“How thick can you get?” you questioned angrily but from the looks of it, he was a bit angrier. He stood up abruptly, while the rest of your friends were trying to pretend that they didn’t exist.
“How thick can I get? How dense can you be?” he spat at you, his silver eyes twinkling with madness and… desperation?
“You know what? Screw it! I don’t want to play your little games anymore, I am so done. I don’t like that you are making a fool out of me every time you are all flirty when you don’t mean it in the first place” you practically screamed at him. His cheeks were red with anger and his pupils dilatated.
“You are crazy! You are insane if you think I just flirt with you so I can play. You are delusional if you believe that I am not absolutely infatuated with you and your American ways. You are just stupid if you think that I am playing. I am so fucking in love with you and it scares the shit out of me because I have never- EVER- fallen in love before and I have no idea how to deal with all those damn butterflies- YES, you gave me butterflies, and my stomach flips every time I see you and I-”
You grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him close, crashing your lips to his with force. He finally shut it. His hands were wrapped around your waist immediately as he deepened the kiss, biting your bottom lip hard, demanding permission to explore your mouth. Exactly before a moan could escape your mouth, people were fake coughing to make you realize that you weren’t alone. You pulled apart but he didn’t let go.
“So, you like my American ways?” you asked softly as you made eye contact with him. He smiled brightly yet seductively and he kissed your cheek.
“I do. You know what else I like? Your sweet American ass” he said loud enough for everyone to hear, as his hands slipped down to your bum.  James laughed but Lily called him a perv. You just blushed but you couldn’t really believe that you had kissed him and that he had never played with you. He was being honest and he was showing you all the affection in the world. You had to make it up to him.
“Maybe we can continue in my dorm?” he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows cheekily, making you chuckle at his childish action, when three, big, fat, loud no’s were heard. You turned and witnessed three frightened faces looking at you with utter terror.
You found yourself laughing along with Sirius and Lily.
Yes, Hogwarts had stolen your heart for sure. And you couldn’t love it more


tags: @orionsirivsblack @kapolisradomthoughts @nadinissavage 

When you need to disable a space station or satellite, that’s when Hell Jumpers come in handy. These units are rigorously trained in zero-g conditions and specialize in untethered assaults. Most other soldiers regard them with fear and reverence, more often than not they are thought to be insane. Master Sergeant  Aytaç Solnaz is one of the most decorated officers in the Republican Guard. They are said to be clocking in at more than 1000 hours of actual non-simulated zero-g operation and with more than 50 confirmed kills,  Aytaç is definitely a true legend of the battlefield. 

Morning View

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: You x Namjoon

Synopsis: (Could be a carry on from http://imagines-bangtan.tumblr.com/post/140048237874/long-distance ) Namjoon is clumsy and always has been. But, his massive heart and need to make things special made up for it.

Word Count: 592

The spring heat beamed through the windows warming up the cloud like bedding covering your body. You turned over to reach towards the body that should be next to you but your hand just hit the mattress with a thud. Your eyes flung open to look into the empty space that should be occupied by your boyfriend.

“Nams?” You shouted with a squeak due to your vocal cords being dried from your slumber.

Your shout was answered by a crash in the kitchen. You rolled your eyes and sat up letting the bedding fall onto your lap. How many times had you told him not to cook without you or someone else around? Too many. And he still didn’t listen.

You lifted yourself out of the bed and pulled down the oversized t-shirt to cover the top half of your thighs. You loved wearing Namjoon’s t-shirts, but not as much as he loved seeing you in them. You buried your toes into the warm carpet as you gained your balance before making your way through the living room and into the kitchen. There, you were greeted with a shirtless man, knelt on the floor sweeping up shattered glass.

“How many times-” You started, walking into the kitchen to scold him when his hand pushed against your stomach to stop you moving any closer.

“You’ll get glass in your foot.” He stated, not looking up from the floor.

Sighing, you stopped where you were and lent against the door frame. “You should have waited.”

“I know but…” He trailed off.

“But what? Were you that hungry?” You sighed and crossed your arms, trying to look mad. But failing.

Standing to tower above you, he looked into your eyes sadly. “I wanted it to be special.”

Pulling his bare torso into your arms, you sighed. “I know.”

He wrapped his arms around your back and rested his chin on top of your head. There you both stood for a while, just admiring each other’s presence. All too soon, he pulled away and took his place back on the floor and picked up some more glass. You decided to join him -much to his annoyance as he demanded you’d get glass in your feet to which you counterattack ex with the fact  he would too- and you both picked up the glass together.

Once the floor had been cleared, you both stood up and dusted yourselves off. You looked up at him to see him staring down at you with a smirk. “What?” You laughed.

“Happy two years.” He grinned causing the light from the kitchen window to cast shadows over his face, making him look even more beautiful than before. Oh how you loved the morning view.

His strong hands pulled you into his bare chest once more and your arms instinctively wrapped around his waist. His scent filled your nose like your favourite perfume and his arms fit like your favourite jumper. Hell, they were.

He would always try to make things overly special. The occasions he did, he would mostly mess up. Which would usually result in the two of you sorting out of the mess together, you trying to be mad, him feeling disappointed at himself messing up, and then you both being wrapped up in each other forgetting anything was wrong. Sometimes you thought he did it on purpose. But after seeing the look on his face you realised he would never want to mess up. He wants to make things perfect. And despite him messing up, he always succeeded.