i just want to put him in my pocket and take him home

rollingstone.com
Harry Styles: Singer Opens Up About Famous Flings, Honest New LP
One Direction's Harry Styles goes deep on love, family and his heartfelt new solo debut in our revealing feature.

January 2016. There’s a bench at the top of Primrose Hill, in London, that looks out over the skyline of the city. If you’d passed by it one winter night, you might have seen him sitting there. A lanky guy in a wool hat, overcoat and jogging pants, hands thrust deep into his pockets. Harry Styles had a lot on his mind. He had spent five years as the buoyant fan favorite in One Direction; now, an uncertain future stretched out in front of him. The band had announced an indefinite hiatus. The white noise of adulation was gone, replaced by the hushed sound of the city below.

The fame visited upon Harry Styles in his years with One D was a special kind of mania. With a self-effacing smile, a hint of darkness and the hair invariably described as “tousled,” he became a canvas onto which millions of fans pitched their hopes and dreams. Hell, when he pulled over to the side of the 101 freeway in L.A. and discreetly threw up, the spot became a fan shrine. It’s said the puke was even sold on eBay like pieces of the Berlin Wall. Paul McCartney has interviewed him. Then there was the unauthorized fan-fiction series featuring a punky, sexed-up version of “Harry Styles.” A billion readers followed his virtual exploits. (“Didn’t read it,” comments the nonfiction Styles, “but I hope he gets more than me.”)

But at the height of One D–mania, Styles took a step back. For many, 2016 was a year of lost musical heroes and a toxic new world order. For Styles, it was a search for a new identity that began on that bench overlooking London. What would a solo Harry Styles sound like? A plan came into focus. A song cycle about women and relationships. Ten songs. More of a rock sound. A bold single-color cover to match the working title: Pink. (He quotes the Clash’s Paul Simonon: “Pink is the only true rock & roll colour.”) Many of the details would change over the coming year – including the title, which would end up as Harry Styles – but one word stuck in his head.

Keep reading

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….

“Trust your gut.” But I can’t. I can’t trust myself in any manner, because today I might not be who I really am, whoever that is. What if this is a manic whim that will pass in the morning. What if when I kiss him I’m just using him as another brick wall to slam my body against. What if my gut says slam the accelerator, don’t bother trying, shoot yourself in the foot. What if I get fear for no reason, anxiety in the sixth floor bathroom, what if my gut says stay home but my heart says go. What if my gut says check the lock again, and again, and again, and again, and, what if my gut says seven is good but did you count it right. what if my gut says leave the party nobody wants you here, what if my gut says why did you leave now everybody thinks you’re weird. What if I get a bad feeling about everyone because one person once opened me up and sewed all their bad into my pockets, what if I go with my gut and overshare a lot and leave awkward silences that stretch in wet muslin bandages over pity-frowns, what if my gut says give in and my gut says I’m worth nothing and my gut says give up. What if you’re right and I’ve been ignoring signs that keep coming and I belong in a box somewhere, un-becoming.

My mom asks me what I want. Where I want to be. I wish I knew how to want things. I wish I had one feeling I knew wasn’t just a rush or a spiral or a warning sign. Something I knew was pure. Something actually mine.

Too Soon - Jeff Atkins Imagine

Jeff Atkins x reader

Request: Hi i was wondering if i could request 13 reasons why imagine where the reader and Jeff have been dating for a couple months or an year…maybe have smut like they made love and then where Jeff passes away and maybe have the reader visit the grave with clay and tony to tell Jeff..that he was a dad.

WARNINGS: Fluff, smut, small swearing


“Atkins!” I scream when I see my boyfriend in the hallway. I jump in his arms wrap my legs around his torso and kiss him as if I didn’t see him in months when in reality is was literally two periods ago. I’m cheesy like that. We’ve been dating for over a year now, but everyday feels like we started dating yesterday. He never seizes to amaze me. He surprises me with flowers and I still get anxious and excited like a little girl when we go out on dates. He still does things like climb through my window even though my parents basically forced a key on him. He even does things like come over at 2am when I joke about being scared. He’s just the best boyfriend in the world.

“Hey baby” he laughs as he kisses me back. “You ready to go”

“Yes, it’s Friday and I’ve never been happier” I slide my hand in his as we walk out the school building earning a ‘bye’ or ‘what up’ from people.

As we walked to my house, Jeff kept telling me corny jokes and pick-up lines he found online last night trying to make me laugh.

“Babe, knock knock?”

“Not another one J.”

“Baaabe knock knock, come on last one I promise.”

“You said that three jokes ago” I whine.

“Oh. Knock knock?”

“Who’s there?” I sigh.

“A broken pencil” he smiles.

“A broken pencil who” I sigh, already knowing the joke.

“Never mind it’s poin-”

“Pointless” I say as I laugh dramatically. He looks at me seriously for interrupting his corny joke. 

“Sorry baby, love you!” I try to kiss him the rest of the way home as he pretends to be mad at me.  

As we walk in, he stills pretend to be mad when he stomps into my room and close the door. He closes me out my room. My room.

“Babe really” I laugh.

“Do a knock knock joke then you can come in.”

“No”

“Yes”

“Noo babe”

“Well then I’m going to go take a nap”

“No!” I roll my eyes as if he can see it. “Fine babe…knock knock”

“Who’s there” he cooed.

“Al.” I smirk.

“Al who?” 

“Al strip for you if you open this door” I smirk biting my lip. As soon as I said that, the door swung open and I’m met with Jeff’s lips as he pulls me inside. He shuts the door and pushes me up against it. 

“No need to do that” he whispers in my ear. He starts kissing and sucking on my neck and pulls up the dress I’m wearing. He slides his hands under my underwear to my butt and pulls me to him.

“J-Jeff” I moan. He looks at me and bit his lip as he throws the dress off, leaving me in just my bra and panties. He scans my body as I turn my head, feeling nervous all of a sudden. He moves my head to face him and I see such admiration in his eyes.

“You’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” When he said that I wanted nothing more than to feel him on me. I throw my arms around his neck and hungrily kiss him. He grabs my legs and I jump on him as he moves us to the bed. He hovers over me as he deepens the kiss. He puts his hand behind my neck to pull me closer to him. He rubs my thigh up and down as he slowly peppers kisses all over my neck and chest. He’s painfully teasing and I can’t take it.

“Jeff” I whisper.

“Yes y/n?”

“I need you” he looks at me and simply smiles.

He continues to kiss my neck as he unclasp my bra. He starts sucking my breast and massaging the other as I run my hands through his hair. He does the same to the other and I’m a moaning mess.

“Jeff please” I moan.

“We’re almost there baby” he whispers.

He kisses down my stomach and thigh slowly, never breaking his stare from me. I whine again as he comes back and goes back to sweetly kissing me. I groan from the friction of my almost bare core against his jeans and wiggle for him to get the idea. He does and pulls off his jeans and I hastily pull off his shirt.

“Someone is ready” he giggles. I roll my eyes and roughly palm his member through his boxers making him grunt.

“Someone is hard” I mimic smirking. He tries to keep his groans in until I full on grab him and he does a full moan. Now he’s the frantic one as he rips my underwear off of me. Literally.

“Jeff!” I scream.

“Sorry baby, I’ll get you another one” he smirks. He slides his hands all over my body, making me shiver.

“You like that?” he asks. I nod as he slips a finger in me and goes back to kissing. I  whimper from his touch and go for his underwear. I push them down and his member springs out. He kicks them off and slides two fingers in this time. I moan into his mouth as he goes at a fast pace. I let out more moans as I start to get close.

“Jeff baby, I’m abou-” when I said that, Jeff pulled his fingers away and I frown. 

“I want to feel you cum, not with my fingers” he smirks.

He grabs a condom out his wallet from his pocket and slide it on. He gives me a look for confirmation and I nod, just wanting to feel him already. He pushes his length into me. At first it hurt, but it always does when we have sex because of his huge size. The longer he’s in me, the more I get used to it. He pushes in slowly and draws out a little. I start to moan as I connect my lips with his. As he picks up his pace, I dig my nails into his back. He hooks my legs over his shoulder and I scream a little.

“Je-OH My fuck!” he’s directly hitting my g-spot and I can’t even think. I moan louder as I grab the pillow under my head, arching my back. 

“Fuck princess! you feel good” he moans. 

“H-harder J-Jeff!” He goes harder and I start almost full on screaming. As we both are climaxing, Jeff pulls out and puts me on all fours. He pushes back in and grabs my breast from behind. I lean back as he kisses my neck while pounding into me. He moans into my ear as I hold the back of his neck. I can’t control my moans and screams and neither can he. They come out louder as he hits the right spot over and over again. As we get closer, I fall onto my hands and Jeff holds my waist. He roughly rubs me with his fingers as I scream to let go of my release.

“J-JEFF!” I scream.

He cums shortly after I do and collapse next to me. We lay there in a comfortable silence while I rest my head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around me. Both still out of breath, he looks over to me.

“Knock knock?”

“Who’s there” I laugh. 

“I love”

“I love who?” I say, letting him finish it this time for his sake.

“I love you” He smiles as he kisses me.

“My corny boyfriend” I laugh.


*Tomorrow Night*

“You guys have been inseparable all night my gosh” Jessica drunkenly laughs. Me and Jeff look at each other and chuckle, knowing exactly why. We have been at Jessica’s party for a while now and have been sitting on the couch with Jessica, Bryce, and Zach.

“Leave them alone babe, that’s how we are” Justin laughs.

“Oh, you get me flowers?” when Justin doesn’t answer, all of us start cracking up. 

“Well I’m going to get a beer, you guys want one?” Zach asks as he gets up. 

“Nah no thanks man, my girl will kill me cause I’m the driver tonight” I smile when he said that, happy that he cares about his well being. We continue talking to our group of friends and have a pretty good time.

“Where is Clay and Hannah” I whisper in his ear.

“Somewhere around here, probably upstairs, I did my meddling for the night and got them together.”

“Aw how noble of you” I giggle, pinching his cheeks. “Thank you ma’am”.

“See! look at them, they are perfect” Jessica playfully whines.

“Shut up!” Justin say as he grabs her face and start full on making out. Everyone starts ewing and shooing them off the couch.

“Get a room!”

“Jess, your room is upstairs!”

“Get it Foley!”

Justin flips us all off, never breaking their kiss and we all laugh. Monty taps Jeff on the shoulder and screams over the loud music.

“Yo bro you still doing the beer run!?”

Jeff got up and nodded his head, “Yeah shit I almost forgot”

I got up with him, frowning and grab his arm before he could go anywhere, “Babe do you have to go? I’m pretty sure there is enough beer, just not enough for every single person to get ass faced drunk.”

He kissed my forehead and smiled, “I’ll be right back babe I promise”. I pick up my bag and turn towards him, “Okay then I’m coming with you”.

“Baby, you have to watch out for Clay and Hannah remember, I’ll be back in 15 minutes then we can leave right after.”

I sigh still not liking this. I know he didn’t drink anything, but I’m still nervous for him to be out this late. What if someone else out there is drunk driving? I tell myself its fine and nod my head.

“Okay fine, just be careful J.”

“I will baby, I love you.”

“I love you too.” he gives me a peck on the lips and I hold onto his hand and let it slide out once he got to far to reach it. I watch him walk out the door and sit back down onto the couch, waiting for his return.


*4 Weeks Later*

Life is unfair. Life is so unfair. Why him? Why Jeff? Why my boyfriend. Such an amazing boyfriend. Is the best. Was the best. I stare down at his tombstone and couldn’t stop my tears from falling. So many tears. I found myself screaming at night. If I wasn’t screaming I was just silent. Completely silent. I mean was there for me to say? He’s gone. Jeff Atkins is gone. Never to hold me again, never to make me feel better, never to get me the flowers, never to throw rocks outside my window. I bend down and touch his stone. 

“I-I m-miss you so much” my voice cracks. “Why d-did you h-have to leave m-me?” I start crying harder. This is my first time being at his grave, due to the fear of seeing him. The fear of seeing reality of this situation. 

“Y-you would b-be so happy right now” I hiccup as I touch my stomach. I felt the little bump and smile through my tears.

“Y-you would have told him knock knock jokes” I laugh to myself, “or her”.

“Y-you would have t-taught baseball terms” I smile.

“You would h-have been the perfect dad” I cried looking down at him, “the best”.

I put the roses he always got me onto his grave and wiped my tears, even though they kept coming down. I kissed my finger and touched them against his stone that read 

Jeff Atkins

World’s greatest son 

world’s best companion

Even a better dad

Gone but never forgotten.

“I love you Jeff”I got up and continued crying as both Tony and Clay stood there respectfully and silent, waiting for me to finish. I smile lazily at them and hooked my arm into both of theirs as we walked out of the graveyard. I look back one more time and thought to myself ‘the love of my life might be gone, but he will forever live on in my heart’


A/N - Omgg!! I cried making this ending. It was so sad to me. I hope you guys liked it and love you guys for all your support. Your imagines are not forgotten.

Married with Benefits (Part 12)

Summary: In order to not pay out-of-state tuition, you ask your friend, Steve Rogers, to marry you. Things, as always, never go as planned. (College AU)

Word Count: 861

“Married with Benefits” Masterlist 

Originally posted by skywalkersleia-archive


He ignored Bucky’s calls on his way back, his mind only focusing on you. Steve wanted to be close to you, wanted to hold you, wanted to be with you. There was no one else, there never had been. Sure, he had dated a few girls in college, but you had always stuck to the back of his mind and he was positive his relationships had been purposely tanked by himself because of his feelings for you.

He snorted. Personal sabotage. Who knew?

He opened your photo message again and looked at you, marveling at the sheer beauty of you. You were angelic, from your acne blemishes, to the small chicken pox scar you had under your right eye.

Keep reading

poedamerom  asked:

"I work as a florist and every day you walk in , buy one flower and give it to me" AU because yesterday I realised you were one of my favorite stucky writers!

Steve meets Bucky Barnes on Valentine’s Day, because God has a particularly cruel sense of humor.

— —

“You’re charging /how much/ for roses?” the man — later revealed as Bucky Barnes — asks.

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Steve says as an explanation, then sighs as he rings the man up on the cash register. “Don’t worry, your sweetheart will like them anyway.”

The man snorts.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Not for my sweetheart, for my sister. She’s in high school, and this asshole guy’d been leading her on for months, and all we could do was watch while she pined after this little fuck. Meanwhile, this guy’s having her edit his essays, drive him places… You know, the shit that asshole high school guys do when they’re going on a power trip. Anyhow, yesterday he asks out this girl right in front of my sister, asks her if she’s happy for him, which of course she’s not. She gets home, my mom calls me, and we hang out and watch rom coms together, and that’s when we come up with the plan.”

“The plan?” Steve asks, leaning in a little closer.

The guy smiles, almost sheepishly. “Her math teacher is a friend of mine from undergrad, so I call him up. These flowers, a few cards, and a big ol’ box of chocolates are gonna be on her desk.”

“Lemme guess, the asshole sits next to her?”

He grins. “Indeed, he does.”

“She’s in on it, right?”

He nods. “‘Course, it’d be weird if she wasn’t. She’s gonna tell everyone that they’re from her overnight camp boyfriend or something, who has been begging to get back together with her. I dunno, she’s got the whole thing set up, but she promises me that it’s gonna make this jack ass jealous, and that’s the important thing.”

Steve laughs. “Yeah, it is,” he says. “Bet your girlfriend is jealous, too,” Steve asks, and okay. He’s fishing a bit.

The guy raises an eyebrow. “Actually, I’m single right now,” he says. “I’ve got all these grand romantic gestures stored up with no outlet. It’s a real problem.”

“What a problem to have,” Steve says. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten flowers on Valentine’s Day, in any context. And that’ll be $42.88.”

“Ouch,” the guy says as he inserts his debit card into the chip reader. “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

“Steve,” Steve says, then adds, “but you probably could’ve gathered that from the name tag.”

Bucky chuckles. “Thanks Steve,” he says as he takes his card out and puts it in his wallet.

“No problem,” Steve says, handing the flowers over to Bucky. “And good luck with your grand gesture.”

“Thanks,” he says, taking the flowers. He pauses, and pulls a rose out of the bunch. “Here,” he says, handing it to Steve.

“What?” Steve asks.

Bucky moves it a little closer to Steve. “A flower. Happy Valentine’s Day, Steve.”

“Oh, uh…” Steve says, taking it. “Thanks,” he says, a little lost for words.

“You’re welcome,” Bucky says. “Though it’s not quite a grand romantic gesture.”

Steve shrugs, trying not to blush. “It’s sweet,” he says.

Bucky just smiles and leaves the store.

— —

He comes back in the next day. “One tulip,” he says, bringing a yellow tulip up to the counter.

“Sure thing,” Steve says, then asks, “How’d the gesture go?”

“Perfectly,” Bucky says. “By the end of the day, he was telling her that he regretted everything, and she was telling him that she’s too good for him.”

Steve can’t help but smile. “Good to know, and that’s $4.21.”

Bucky pays with his debit card. “Yeah, gotta focus my energies elsewhere now,” he says.

“Good luck with that,” Steve says, handing him the flower.

“Thanks,” Bucky says, then hands the tulip back to Steve. “Enjoy the flower!” he says, before leaving the store.

Steve stands there, eyebrows furrowed, looking at the flower in his hand. “What?” he mutters to himself.

— —

It keeps happening.

Bucky comes in, he buys a flower — a different one every day — and hands it to Steve. If he doesn’t come in, he orders one online with the direction “give to Steve, please.”

“This is ridiculous,” Steve says after a month.

“I’m supporting a local, independently-run business,” Bucky responds as he hands Steve an amaryllis. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve amends, but he takes the flower anyway.

— —

He’s started keeping them in his apartment as a mismatched, ever-changing arrangement. When a flower starts to wilt, he presses one of the petals and keeps it in a little book.

He sort of loves it.

He also sort of loves Bucky, but that’s a different story.

— —

They get to know each other, even though they just talk for a few minutes a day. Bucky is an architect who lives a few blocks away and passes by the flower shop on the way to work. He spends a lot of time with his mom and his sister (his dad isn’t in the picture), and he likes cheesy movies but not cheese — he’s lactose intolerant.

“We have that in common,” Steve says.

“Then it’s a good thing that I’m giving you flowers and not chocolates,” Bucky says as he hands him a peony.

Steve takes it and gives it a sniff. He really does like the smell of peonies. “What’s your endgame here?” Steve asks. “It’s been four months.”

Bucky shrugs, smiling. “Dunno,” he says. “I honestly don’t. I just wanted you to have fun.” He pauses and shoves his hands in his pockets. “If it gets annoying—“

“It’s not,” Steve says, too quickly. “It’s not annoying,” he says.

Bucky looks up, smiling. “Alright then,” he says.

“See you tomorrow?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods. “See you tomorrow.”

— —

When Bucky walks into the shop on Valentine’s Day, his face lights up.

“Steve?” he asks, looking at the flower arrangement in the middle of the shop and the accompanying valentine, made from the dried petals of 365 flowers.

“I thought you could use a gesture,” Steve says. “And a date for tonight?” he adds on, hopeful.

“Are these…?” Bucky asks.

“The flowers, I saved a petal from each one.”

“Oh my God,” Bucky says, looking down and biting his bottom lip. “I’m gonna have to step up my game if we’re gonna start going out,” he says.

“So that’s a yes?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s a yes.”

anonymous asked:

What do you think about an “i picked up your bag at the airport but i can’t find your number so i’m about to embark on the largest scavenger hunt of all time by using your strange belongings to track you down” au with charmer or nurseydex or zimbits or something??

Well, I don’t know if you expected three mini fics, and I didn’t fully follow the prompt, but here we are.

1. Charmer

Look, Chris knew it was dumb. He knew that everyone on earth had a plain black suitcase, he knew he should have double-checked the luggage tag, he knew it was important to be sure abut these things. But knowing what he should have done couldn’t help him when he finally got his suitcase home and opened it up to find mostly yoga pants and sundresses. 

Fuck.

He zipped the bag back up and flipped open the luggage tag. It was cute, pink with some metallic lettering saying “I’m outta here!” in a handwritten font. Chris blamed jetlag and the redeye flight for making him miss the fact that it wasn’t his Sharks tag. He blamed the bag’s owner for not filling out any of the information on the tag.

Dammit.

Well, sorry random girl, he thought. He opened the suitcase up again to try to see if he could find anything that would give him a clue as to who the suitcase owner was. He moved a makeup bag aside, and hit gold immediately. Well, Samwell red. A Women’s Volleyball tshirt– mystery suitcase girl had to be on the volleyball team.

“Hey Ransom!” he yelled. “You’re facebook friends with all the volleyball team right?”

“He’s friends with everyone on campus!” Holster yelled back.

“Ask their captain if anyone flew in from the Bay Area and lost their luggage!”

_X_

“Is Justin here? My captain said he’s got my suitcase.” Chris overheard her at the door. He grabbed the bag and started hauling it downstairs. As he set it down at the bottom and caught sight of the girl in the doorway, he froze. She was pretty. Like, really pretty. 

“Um, hi,” he said.

“So you’re Justin? Oh my god, I’m so glad it wasn’t some total rando who got my bag.” 

“I’m actually Chris, Justin was just the one who was friends with your captain. Um, I’m sorry, but I kind of had to look through your stuff? Your luggage tag wasn’t filled out.” The girl laughed.

“Yours wasn’t either! Me and my teammates were like one minute away from googling the record holder for most San Jose Sharks merch, but it totally makes sense that you’re on the hockey team.” 

“Since we both forgot to write our numbers down, maybe we should do that now?” Chris suggested. The girl grinned, grabbed his phone out of his hand, and opened up a new contact. She punched in a number, and when she handed it back he saw a text of several random emojis addressed to the new contact of “Caitlin Farmer” with a girl farmer emoji and a volleyball emoji.

“Text me sometime, and maybe we can get dinner?” she said, and she was gone with her suitcase. 

Chris collapsed on the couch, a dreamy look in his eyes.

“Chowder? You get your suitcase back?” Bitty called out from the kitchen.

“Yeah! and I think I’m in love now!”

2. Nurseydex

“Cheryl, I’m telling you, I had a ton of inspiration on the plane and I wrote some great stuff for act three. No. No, it wasn’t just me thinking it’s great because I popped some melatonin and got really sleepy. It’s like, legit. Yeah, I’ll send it over as soon as I get home and–”

Derek slammed into something. If he’d been holding his phone in his hand (bluetooth is a blessing when you drop stuff easily) it would have launched across the airport. As it was, his post-flight latte was soaking through the nice white shirt of the handsome stranger in front of him.

“Shit,” the stranger said, looking down to survey the damage.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have trusted myself to make a phone call and not be clumsy after such a long flight,” Derek said. He set his briefcase down and pulled a wad of napkins out of the outside pocket. The guy took a deep breath, going from murderous to calm in a few seconds. 

“I wasn’t looking where I was going either, it’s not your fault,” the guy said, setting down his own briefcase and accepting the napkins. He blotted at his shirt.

“Let me pay for the dry cleaning. Or a replacement,” Derek offered. The man shook his head.

“It’s fine, it probably needed to go to the cleaners anyways.” He checked his watch. “If I run, I can probably get a new one before my meeting.” He wadded the napkins into one big ball, picked up his briefcase, and walked towards the exit with a terse nod. Derek, feeling terrible about the whole thing, picked up his own briefcase and walked to baggage claim.

By the time he was reunited with his home office, a cozy bookshelf-lined room in his brownstone, he had almost forgotten about the coffee incident. He was focused on sending the manuscript to Cheryl. Unfortunately, that was going to be difficult, considering he pulled a PC laptop out of the bag instead of his Mac.

Derek stared at the computer for a full minute. He almost couldn’t believe that this was happening to him. Hesitantly, he opened the laptop. On one side of the keyboard there was a weird thing that a few seconds of phone googling told him was a fingerprint scanner. Shit. He hit the space bar experimentally. Something flashed on the screen, and then was replaced with just a plain black screen with red text: ACCESS DENIED

Derek swore. He started to look through the rest of what was in the briefcase, but was disappointed to find it empty except for the laptop’s charger, three packs of gum, and receipts from a lobster shack in Maine. Shit. Nothing in here would tell him anything about the redhead he’d launched a latte at. 

He closed the laptop dejectedly, ignored his editor’s text messages, and went into the kitchen to make himself lunch and feel sorry for himself. This was the universe punishing him for covering a cute guy with coffee. If he had just kept his focus and waited to call his editor later, he could have sent the draft along and saved it and not be desperately trying to remember his inspiration.

Just as the self-pity spiral was really taking off, the doorbell rang. Derek sighed, put down his tea, and walked to the door. When he opened it, it wasn’t Girl Scouts or Jehovah’s Witnesses, but the guy from the airport.

“Cancel whatever you’re doing today, I need to teach you the most basic principles of digital security,” the guy said, pushing past Derek into the dining room. He shoved a stack of papers onto a chair and pulled Derek’s laptop out.

“I’m Will, by the way, I make software that’s hopefully a step ahead of viruses.”

“Is the draft still there?”

“The draft of what?” The guy looked confused.

“My third act breakthrough. I’m a novelist, I need to get it to my editor and I couldn’t remember if I saved it,” Derek explained.

“You know you can set up an auto-save every five minutes or so, right?” Will asked.

“This might be surprising to you, but I’ve never had a cute guy storm into my house and yell at me about computers before.” Will looked up from Derek’s computer, blushing.

“I haven’t had a cute guy dump a gallon of coffee all over me and steal my laptop before, either, but here we are.”

“Maybe you can yell about computers over lunch with me?”

3. Zimbits

Button downs. Tank tops. Slacks. Shorts. Three rolling pins. A pie tin. A half-emptied multipack of sharpies.

No lucky puck. No clothes in his size. No jerseys.

Jack sighed. It would just be too much to ask for anything to go well today. He picked up his phone to call someone with the Falconers, in the hope that they could talk to the airline and sort all this out. At the same time, his phone lit up with Tater’s face.

“Zimmboni! Look on twitter. Small internet baker has your suitcase!” Tater hung up before he could reply, so Jack just opened twitter instead. 

omgcheckplease: A bunch of pucks, some dirty jerseys, and a history textbook. Either I’m back in college or this isn’t my suitcase.

omgcheckplease: .@falcsofficial please tell your #1 player to DM me and come get his shit

omgcheckplease: and @falcsofficial tell him to give me my shit back. my hockey days are in the past, I need rolling pins, not a mouthguard

Jack smiled and laughed in the way a person laughs when they’re alone, just blowing more air than normal out of his nose. He looked through the twitter for a minute– the guy, Eric Bittle, was a Providence-based chef, whose latest tweets were mostly greetings to the various cities he’d been visiting on tour. Jack clicked the media tab on the account, and looked through the pictures. Bittle was cute. He wrote a reply.

zimmboni: .@omgcheckplease how do I send u a DM

omgcheckplease: .@zimmboni you don’t deserve to be verified, oh my god #verifybittle2k17

A few seconds later another notification popped up, and he tapped it to be brought to a DM window.

omgcheckplease: hey! sorry about the mixup. I can only imagine how confused you were to find all my book tour stuff.

zimmboni: Probably as confused as you were finding hockey stuff?

omgcheckplease: I wasn’t joking in my tweets, I did play hockey before I got into the whole cookbook/food show thing

zimmboni: Exactly, I did a book tour last year in the off-season :-)

omgcheckplease: oh my gosh, isn’t it the best and the worst?

zimmboni: I know. It’s great to meet people and talk about your work, but it’s exhausting.

omgcheckplease: that’s why I’m so excited to be back in Providence! at least until the next cookbook.

zimmboni: Well we should probably meet up to trade suitcases. Want to meet somewhere for dinner?

omgcheckplease: don’t trust me to learn where your house is?

zimmboni: I mean, if dinner goes well enough…

omgcheckplease: OH. okay, then, Mr. Zimmermann, it’s a date.

Jack smiled to himself, and got ready for his date.

Manners (Jimin smut)

Originally posted by kookiyoon

Description: Jimin is your best friend’s roommate, and to say you get on each other’s nerves would be an understatement. Jimin decides it is his mission to teach you some ‘manners’.

This fic includes: Explicit smut, ‘good girl’ term, dominance games, hate love type dynamic, light spanking, ‘teaching of manners’ lmfaoo

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Jimin x You (ft Yoongi and Taehyung)

Word count: 4.5k

You lazily played a game on Yoongi’s phone, your eyes peering up every now and then to look at the TV screen, displaying a movie utterly boring to you. You let out an unintentional sigh; you were considering getting up to scour for food.

“Why are you here if you’re so bored?” Jimin asked from the other side of Yoongi, whose lap your head lay upon. You sat up to match Jimin’s glare.

“Jimin.” You heard Yoongi scold under his breath. Deciding not to waste your energy, you ignored Jimin and got up to search through their fridge. Yoongi thought you couldn’t hear him once you were in the kitchen, and you barely could, but his low and deep voice rung through the practically silent dorm “I’m so sick of you being such a dick to Y/N. Go say sorry.”

“What?” Jimin laughed. “I’m not a child.”

“Jimin.” Yoongi’s voice was so stern you got goose bumps.

“Whatever.” Jimin mumbled, his light footsteps approaching the kitchen. You quickly stuffed your head in the fridge, acting like you were very busy. When you looked up, closing the fridge door with a muffin in your hand, Jimin is leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest and a subtle frown on his face. 

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you’re making yourself at home.” Jimin says, his eyes pointing at the treat in your hands. You smile tauntingly, not breaking eye contact as you take an excessively big bite.

“Thanks.” You mumble through your full mouth.

“Gosh, did no one ever teach you manners?” He asks with a serious expression.

Keep reading

food truck au 1/??

(inspired by my earlier post)

Anyone who knew Jack Zimmermann would laugh at the idea of him even being able to remember the login for his Twitter account.

No one, not even his parents, would ever suspect that he checked his feed every single morning.

Jack didn’t care much for social media; he was too private a person to ever want the world to know where he was or what he was eating at any given moment. In fact, he only followed three accounts: his mother’s, the official Falconers’, and that of Li’l Dicky’s Southern Comforts. The latter was the only one he actually cared about.

See, Jack Zimmermann had a deep, dark secret – he was in love with the mini apple pies that were sold daily at Li’l Dicky’s. It was the only dessert he ever indulged in on a regular basis, and said indulgences were a secret he would take to his grave.

Every morning, Li’l Dicky’s posted their location for the day. Jack knew the general schedule by heart at this point, but some days the truck switched things up, due to weather or construction or event catering, and Twitter was the only way for Jack to know if he would be able to get his apple pie fix.

It didn’t hurt that Eric Bittle, the owner of Li’l Dicky’s, smiled at Jack like the sun shined out of his ass every time he came by. But really, it was the pies Jack couldn’t enough of. Mostly. Probably.

Keep reading

Cheerleading IS a sport | JJ

Request: a dom!jungkook smut when y/n is a cheerleader and he is like the player of the sport and yeah they could like have the fun in the changing room~

Pairing: Dom!Jungkook, Football!Jungkook X Cheerleader!Reader

Summary: Y/n, best flyer on the cheerleading squad. Jungkook, best kicker and scorer on the football team. What will happen when things get heated between the two all because of something that he just spilled out of his mouth.

Genre: Smut, Angst, Smut

Warnings: Swearing, dirty talk, Dominant!Jungkook, Sub!Reader, hospital handjob, cocky asshole Jungkook

Word Count: 3k+

Keep reading

So I got bored and checked the weather for both Almaty and St. Petersburg and they're hilariously different so here's an otayuri drabble

Why the hell Yakov was making him practice in this heat, Yuri had no idea. But he hated him for it.

Sure, it wasn’t drastically hot, but 19°C was hot for St. Petersburg, and Yuri could be enjoying the weather if A: it wasn’t so humid, and B: Yakov wasn’t making him practice.

Yuri tipped his head back, the vertebrae in his neck creaking and tense muscles stretching.

“Hey Yakov-”

“Give me a perfect triple axel into a spread eagle and you’re free to go.” The old man told him, drinking from the water bottle handed to him by Lilia.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Yuri said, exasperated. “In this heat?”

“Vitya’s been making Katsuki practice his quads all day, at least I’m not that cruel.” Yakov shrugged.

“Actually, I’m doing this voluntarily.” Yuuri called, taking off and landing a frustratingly perfect quad flip.

“I’ve been trying to make him come home for hours Yakov, this is none of my doing.” Viktor groaned, leaning against the barrier and wiping his brow.

“You said it yourself Vitya,” Yuuri shrugged, pulling off an effortless triple axel into a spread eagle. “I’m going to need to try my best to beat you.”

“I’ve created a monster. I’m doomed.” Viktor sighed defeatedly, gazing at Yuuri.

“And Yurio-” He started, trailing lazily around the rink.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’m not stopping until I have both records, so I suggest you watch yourself.”

“Getting cocky, now are we, Katsudon?” Yuri asked, cocking a brow.

“Well it’s not the only thing I’m getting.” Yuuri shrugged, taking off into a perfect quad salchow, winking at Viktor as he landed.

“What the fuck have you done to him, Vitkor?” Yuri asked, slightly disgusted at the innuendo.

“I don’t know!” Viktor said exasperatedly.

“Alright, that’s it.” Yakov sighed. “Katsuki, get your ass out of my rink before you kill yourself.”

“I’m not even tired though.” Yuuri sighed, taking off into a quad loop.

“You’re hell bent on destroying my skaters and I can’t have that. Get out before you hurt yourself.” Yakov said firmly.

“But-”

“Yuuri.” Mila started. “We adore you, you’re sweet and talented and everything but with every jump you land, Yakov pushes us that much harder, so please, for the love of god, get the fuck out of the rink.”

“Okay, okay.” Yuuri sighed, finally skating off of the rink, Mila earning an exhausted ‘thank you’ from Viktor, who followed behind Yuuri.

“Yura. Triple axel. Now.” Yakov said firmly, folding his arms.

“Seriously?!”

“Yes. Now.”

“I’d like to see you do it, old man.” Yuri huffed, crossing his arms.

“Just do it, Yuri.” Yuuri called. “Anyway, we’re leaving for today, guys.”

“Finally!” Georgi groaned.

“Please take like, the next week off, you’re making us look bad.” Mila joked.

“No actually do, you’re driving me insane.” Yuri called.

“And Yakov said I couldn’t coach anyone.” Viktor smirked, pecking Yuuri on the cheek.

“Just leave already.” Yakov sighed. “Yuri, triple axel. I’m waiting.”

“For fucks sake, do I have to?”

“Do you want to lose the Olympics?”

“… fine.”

“That’s what I thought.”


Yuri unlocked his dorm, dumping his duffle bag at the door and kicking his shoes off. It’d been a week since Yakov and Lilia’s asshole of a son kicked Yuri out of his mother’s house.

He stalked over the mini fridge in the corner of his room, opening it and pulling out a cold can of fanta, wrenching open the tab and flopping down on his bed.

He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, unlocking it and opening up whatsapp, ignoring the 689 missed texts from the Barcelona GPF group chat and scrolling to Otabek’s contact, selecting video call.

Otabek picked up after around the 3rd ring, and the imagine Yuri was greeted with wasn’t what he expected.

A flushed, tanned, sweaty, muscular chest and a giggling little girl in the background. The camera shakily carried up to Otabek’s face, where it was obvious that he older boy was fast asleep.

“Bekaaaa!” Giggled the little girl, a bony little hand with garish pink nail polish and ratty bracelets pressing down on Otabek’s chest. “Oyanw! Beka! Käne Beka!”

Otabek made a weird noise between a snort and a squawk, eyes snapping open suddenly as he lurched forwards.

“Sälem aytşı Yura!” The little girl giggled.

“Natya…” Otabek murmured groggily. “Nege telefonım bar?” He asked, reaching for the phone and pulling the little girl to the side. “Bul öte jaramsız.” He scolded, blowing a raspberry into the little girl’s cheek.

“Um… is this a bad time?” Yuri asked awkwardly, taking a sip from his soda can. “I can go…”

“Crap! Yura, I forgot. Sorry, I fell asleep and my little sister took my phone-”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Yuri shrugged. “It’s kinda cute.”

Otabek laughed, ruffling his sister’s messy black hair.

“Sälem Yura!” She grinned, waving at the screen.

“She says hi.” Otabek grinned, translating.

“Hi Natalia.” Yuri smiled, waving back, earning a gap-toothed grin from the little girl.

“Natya, Siz bizden kete alasız ba?” Otabek asked his sister, slipping back into his native tongue.

She nodded, waving at the screen.

“Bayt Yura!” She giggled, running off.

“She’s adorable.” Yuri smiled, sipping from the can again.

“I know.” Otabek grinned.

“Did you teach her to call me that?”

“Call you what?”

“To call me Yura?”

“She’s called you that since she saw you on TV at the Russian Nationals two years ago.”

“Why though?”

“Don’t look at me, she just does.”

Oh, Yuri was look at him.

“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

“Huh?”

“You’re half naked. At least I think you are… I can only see your chest.”

“I’m wearing underwear if that’s what you’re asking.” Otabek snorted, flashing Yuri a crooked grin.

“Really? No pants?”

“It’s too hot.” Otabek shrugged, reaching for a something offscreen and bringing a glass of water to his lips.

“Seriously? Isn’t it like, 19°C? Kinda pathetic. And that’s coming from a Moscow native.”

“It’s 36°C over here.” Otabek said flatly.

“Damn, your coach makes you practice in that heat?” Yuri asked incredulously.

“Nah. Training’s cancelled. He’s passed out in the porch.”

“Lucky bastard. Yakov’s been forcing me to train.” Yuri huffed.

“Watch your language, Yura. My family is in the vicinity.”

“I’m like 300 miles away they can’t hurt me.”

“My cousin will find you. You know what Aleks is like.”

“And I hope you boys are keeping it PG-13!” Came the call of cousin in the background, causing Otabek to flush slightly.

“ALEKS!”

“I’m just saying! Your mother wouldn’t be too happy if she saw you-”

“Aleks, sabırlılıqtı toqtatıñız Beka!” Came a call.

“Dude I can hear like, your entire family, where are you?”

“In my back yard.” He shrugged, switching the camera so Yuri could get a view of the lush, green garden, and the hammock Otabek was laying in.

“Its huge!” Yuri gasped. “Your family must be loaded!”

“My mother was an Olympic silver medalist. That kind of set us up for quite a while, then I started to send money home whenever I got it.” Otabek shrugged. “Joq, Natya, şlangini tömenge ornatıñız!”

Yuri heard giggling in the background, along with running water. Otabek shifted, the camera shaking a bit as he moved.

“My sister has a hose, I’m going inside.” He explained as a jet of water splashed behind him. “Nope nope nope nope. Not today.”

“Are you afraid of getting wet, Beka?”

“No I just don’t want to get- AH!”

“Are you okay?” Yuri asked, cocking an eyebrow at the maniacal cackling heard in the background.

“Yeah, my sister just got me in the ass while I was running inside.”

“Damn, good aim.”

“Yeah,” He said, camera shaking as he went up the stairs, opening the door to his room and pushing in. “Yura?”

“Still here.”

“I’m gonna need to change but I’m too lazy to disconnect the call, can I just put you against a pillow so you don’t see anything?”

“Sure.” Yuri shrugged, tossing his empty soda can into the trash.

The screen went a dark reddish-brown colour as it was pressed against the pillow, the camera suddenly flipping just as the screen went black.

Yuri could see Otabek pull away, turning around and pulling down the damp, dark grey boxers.

What the hell was Yuri supposed to do?!

The rational thing to would be to tell Otabek 'hey the camera accidentally flipped and I can see your ass and probably dick but I’m not sure’, but for some reason Yuri couldn’t speak.

Otabek turned in the direction of the camera, humming to himself as he stopped up the boxers and tossed them into the laundry hamper at the edge of his room, walking over to a chest of drawers and pulling out a pair of boxers.

Otabek quickly pulled the boxers on, rooting through the drawers and pulling out some shorts and a t-shirt, putting those on too.

He reached for the camera, which suddenly flipped back to front facing as it was being pulled away from the pillow.

“Sorry I took so long- Yura, are you okay?” Otabek asked, suddenly concerned.

“Y-yeah I’m fine. Why are you asking me?” Yuri stammered awkwardly.

“Your face, it’s all… red. Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Yeah yeah I’m fine! I’m just a bit hot and sweaty from practice, I should probably shower.” Yuri said quickly.

“Okay…” Otabek murmured, unconvinced. “If you don’t feel better after the shower, call Viktor or Yuuri or someone like that. And make sure you drink a lot of water. And eat properly. None of that energy bar nonsense-”

“Okay mom, jeez. I’m fine, really.” Yuri said, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t get smart with me, young man.” Otabek said jokingly.

Yuri rolled his eyes, snorting.

“Bye Beka.”

“I’ll see you later, okay? I’ll call you later.”

“I really can’t stop you can I?”

“Nope.”

Yuri laughed, ending the call and flinging his phone onto the other end of the bed and pressing his hands into his face.

Otabek is hung like a fucking horse.

——-

I just winged it ok sorry

We had just finished our first quest, where none of us really were experienced DnD player, and I did some feeble attempts at solid DM'ing. The goal of the quest had been to find an antidote for a farmer’s son who had gone into a magical coma.

(ps: due to an inside joke, Winnie the Pooh is in the party like, just there. Christopher Robin is the farmers son who fell ill. The party coloured winnie the pooh neon pink. I don’t know why.)

DM: You reach the farm. You don’t have to roll shit to figure out these peeps are poor. They have a cow and a goat in a small pen that don’t look too hot. Oh, and there’s a donkey tied by the door to their shedlike home.

Elf Ranger: guys i think these peeps are super poor.

Half-Elf Cleric (only good aligned partymember): oh my god really????

DM: just as you say that, the door creaks open, and a thin, a bit aged man peeks out, and when he sees you, his eyes go wide and he steps fully outside, and he says “Are you the ones my daughter sent to- have you found it? Did you find the antidote for my son?”

Half-Elf Cleric: Hello we are here to speak to you about Jesus Christ- I mean, Njord. That’s my deity, right?

Elf Ranger: Yeah, the word of Njord.

Dward Fighter (whose alignment is sorta fuzzy): Yeah we got some antidote dude but uhh time cough up some gold pieces, aight

DM: So- these news fills him with both glee and fear. He sinks down on his feet-

Half-Elf Cleric: What was he on before

DM: -His knees. He sinks down on his knees, and he brings his hands together in your typical prayer like- he’s begging you. “Please, we have… nothing.”

Tiefling Warlock (Chaotic Neutral): sad trombone

DM: “Please, I- I have but one son, he and my daughter are- we won’t be able to do the amount of work- we need him!”

Tiefling Warlock: “Shall we move on, my fellows?”

DM: As you guys speak about this, Winnie the Pooh slides down from /Half-Elf Cleric/’s shoulders, where he’s been perched, and sort of waddles forward, past the begging father, and into the house, to join Christopher Robin.

Half-Elf Cleric: AWWWWWW

Dwarf Fighter: Ey he didn’t swipe the antidote from us, did he?

DM: No- no, you still got that.

Tiefling Warlock: I would’ve Eldritch Blasted his ass if he had.

Half-Elf Cleric: I think we should just give them the antidote.

DM: Like- just to clarify: the antidote is not like- a valuable thing. It’s just this one specific conconction for this particular- you won’t get more cash out of this anywhere else, nobody is gonna run up to you and go “oh, my father is in a magical coma and needs an antidote that-!” like. It’s literally worthless except for these people.

Tiefling Warlock: But we won't have to help someone pro bono.

Half-Elf Cleric: *annoyed sigh* I don’t give a damn about money.

Everyone except her: *horrified gasps*

Dwarf Fighter: … well, you guys do got a nice ass-

Everyone: WHAT

Dwarf Fighter: the donkey. You got a nice donkey.

DM: You… want the donkey.

Half-Elf Cleric: IS IT EEYORE

Everyone: YES we want the donkey.

DM: … The man looks at the donkey and then at you, and he goes “I- If it is a trade between the life of my son and my donkey, it’s- then it’s yours.” And- and Eeyore looks up at you all-

Everyone: YES IT’S EEYORE

DM: -and he goes “I figured I was going to get sold anyway…”

Half-Elf Cleric: AWWW

DM: and the farmer goes “AAA” cus he didn’t know he had a talking donkey

Dwarf Fighter: eyy hasn’t he seen Shrek talking donkeys means cash

DM: yeah well that doesn’t matter now cus he’s giving him to you guys

Dwarf Fighter: right you are

DM: and the man unties Eeyore and he sighs deeply and he goes “this surely won’t make things easier for us… but in exchange for my son… *sigh*”

Tiefling and Dwarf: oh stop moping around jesus hell

Half-Elf Cleric: EYY if I have a ‘set of commoners clothes’ can i give them to them cus they look poor right

DM: I guess

Half-Elf Cleric: EYYYYYYYYYYYY

DM: but then you’d be naked

Half-Elf Cleric: NÄÄÄIJ in that case fuck it you don’t get shit i’m sorry i tried

DM: -and you just start taking of your clothes to give them to the man, but you realise halfway through what you’re doing and you get dressed again

Tiefling: cover yourself, woman

DM: so- let me get this straight. You guys literally have a box on wheels that you pull along with you, and it is filled… with the golden heads of a pair of statues AND YOU WANNA TAKE THIS POOR FAMILYS DONKEY.

Tiefling: survival of the fittest, honey *grabs rope with Eeyore on the other end*

-they go inside and give Christopher Robin the antidote-

Christopher Robin: what the fuck

DM: And the family all rejoice at the awakening of their son, and they turn and thank you, and they’re in the middle of hugging you all when the farmer murmurs “They… they took the donkey.” and the whole family just. Goes quiet-

Dwarf Fighter: fucking tattletale?

DM: - and the mother sort of sinks down on her chair and she whisperes “How will we surviv-”

Tiefling: Oh for fucks- “look, woman, if you don’t shut up I’ll Eldritch Blast your ass-”

Half-Elf Cleric: “HEY WHAT”

DM: The woman gasps loudly and pales-

Dwarf Fighter: “Yo what’s the problem don’t you want a talking donkey”

Half-Elf Cleric: “I meant the whole threatening to KILL HER actually”

Tiefling: “I wasn’t threatening her, I was just stating a fact”

DM: That if she wouldn’t shut up you’d kill her?

Tiefling: It’s a very known fact.

DM: Winnie the Pooh is looking at Christopher Robin with such glee; it’s really indescribable how happy he’s looking, and he’s hopping around happily and he’s climbing up on the bed to give him a big old hug, and Christopher Robin, he goes- “What the- could you guys like take the bear away from me.”

Everyone: “WHAT”

Half-Elf Cleric: “Isn’t he like with you?”

Christopher Robin: “Wh- no? I just went into the woods and he just came up to me, and I found this ruin and he just followed me? And then I got stung by something and that’s all I remember? Could you like take him away he’s a bit creepy. And why is he pink?”

Half-Elf Cleric: “Well uhh he’s yours now. You don’t have a donkey anymore, so-”

DM: And this sorta comes as news to him cus when the father told the fam he had just woken up so he was a bit disoriented so now he goes “Wh-Why is-? What happened to our donkey?” And the father, he goes “Well, son, it was their demand to give you the antidote… and-”

Tiefling: “By the way… can we get this transaction on paper?”

DM: - and the boy turns to you incredulously, and he goes “But-! You can’t! We need that donkey, without it we’ll die!”

Dwarf: “You’re young and strong, boy, time to saddle up.”

Tiefling: “You got a bear now.”

DM: - And Christopher Robin starts to cry too, and he goes “You might’ve saved our lives, but you’ve killed our family-”

Dwarf: “Anywho, gots to go.”

DM: So, you go to leave the shedlike home, and the athmostphere is next to devastated-

Dwarf: “Okay, okay, I ain’t okay with this. We go here and save your life, and you guys are devastated? Really?”

Tiefling: “I agree entirely. Ungrateful runt.”

Cleric: “I-”

DM: “And Chrisopher Robin slams the door in your face.”

Cleric: “No, I was- I was gonna whisper to him “I didn’t want this, I wanted to let you have it for free-”

DM: -Okay, so you whisper that, and he just stares you down, and he shakes his head, and tears are falling down, and he just spits out “You’re just as bad as them for letting it happen anyway,” and he throws the door shut in front of your face after doing that.

Cleric: “GODDAMNIT”

DM: okay so like just to state- like, you guys are super welcome to just. give them something on your own accord, like, out of your own pocket, you picked up som gold in that temple, so if you want to-

Cleric: I WANNA GIVE THEM 100 GP

Tiefling: WHAT “NO, NO, DON’T” ok so I try to pursuade /cleric/ not to do it.

DM: You- you can’t roll to make another player do stuff they don’t wanna do.

Tiefling: Okay, uh “Hey, /cleric/. Don’t do it.” There, you’re pursuaded.

Cleric: … yeah, nah. I give them the gold.

DM: So- you hammer on the door and you shout “I GOT GOLD FOR YOU” or something like that, and Christopher Robin opens the door, and once he sees the gold you’re extending, he- he is so happy. He takes the gold and he goes to hug you, and the entire family comes out and does the same, they can buy like 3 donkeys now i dunno how GP works in dnd yet uhhh so-

Tiefling: Fuck this, I eldritch blast Christopher Robin.

Cleric: NO YOU DON’T i stand in the way.

DM: -Fine? Uh, roll an attack roll.

Tiefling: Twelve.

DM: You miss. You hit the ground.

Tiefling: … don’t I hit the house at least?

DM: NO YOU- WHY DO YOU WANT TO BURN THE HOUSE DOWN

 Cleric: WHY WOULD YOU STILL ROLL WHEN I WAS STANING IN THE WAY- YOU TRIED TO KILL ME

Ranger: All of this for a donkey

DM: Nah, dude, you got the donkey. This is because /Cleric/ gave them 100 GP

Ranger: Oh okay

Dwarf: Yeah, but they’re super ungrateful. Bastards.

Cleric: Yeah but we can’t KILL THEM for that??

DM: so the family, they- after the attempted murder, they run back into the house. 

Dwarf: Did they take the gold?

DM: Yeah.

Dwarf: Rat bastards.

DM: Does /Tiefling/ want to keep his spree of ‘teaching people some manners’ going or?

Tiefling: Nahhh. But he does cast sleep on /Cleric/ cus he’s pissed.

Cleric: haHA i’m a half elf and I can’t be magically put to sleep!

Tiefling: Nvm then I’m tired.

DM: So- you guys walk away from the house, and just for a moment you hear the door opening and then quickly closing-

Ranger: No

DM: -and you turn, and- Winnie the Pooh has been tossed out of the house.

Dwarf: THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT when Njord taketh a donkey he giveth thee an illuminescent bear, and they just TOSS HIM OUT

DM: - and Winne the Pooh sits on the ground very- very sadly. Had he had tear ducts, he would cry a single tear. He is on the ground-

Ranger: Still pink?

DM: Still pink.

Cleric: :’(

Ranger: ugh FINE let’s take him with us.

DM: You go and pick him up, and he is so happy. So, so happy.

Dwarf: what are we, collecting Winnie the Pooh characters?

DM: He’s on /clerics/ shoulder again-

Tiefling: Can’t we put him on Eeyores back?

Dwarf: Can’t we put EEYORE on WINNIE THE POOH’s back?

DM: You put Eeyore on Winnie the Pooh back, and you now have a donkey on top of a bear on the ground. They are not moving.

Cleric: Oh dear.

DM: And Eeyore sighs and goes “I knew I’d be too heavy”

Everyone: “AWWWWWW”

From The Dining Table

13 Hours Later.

When she woke up, she was still alone.

Initially, she’d forgotten all about the night before. The first thing she noticed was the strange buzzing sound of the thermostat in the corner, which was obviously not working at all because the room was freezing. The chilly air nipped at her cheeks, and she snuggled further into the mattress as she tucked her head into the comforter with a soft whimper, trying to ignore the buzzing in her head.

Her eyes were still stinging from her tears the night before mixed with the lack of sleep. She’d managed to finally drift off at around four in the morning, but she couldn’t tell by the window whether it was eight in the morning or two in the afternoon.

Their screams from the night before still echoed in the walls.

She slid the covers off of her head and opened her eyes slowly, staring at the pale yellow motel ceiling. It was the color of Easter yellow, she’d decided, and it reminded her of chocolate and gardens and everything happy. It reminded her of some distant life where she probably would have done something to be proud of.

The ache in her chest resonated throughout her entire body, and her head was pounding to the rhythm of her heart—it was the only way she could be sure it was still beating.

She felt like someone had torn it out of her chest.

She turned onto her side and looked at the space in the bed beside her, clutching onto the soft material of the comforter until her knuckles turned white. Waking up on her own wasn’t new to her—she’d done it time and time again in the past two years, so much that she’d become numb to the loneliness that came with it. But this time was different…

This time, she knew he wasn’t coming back.

She suddenly felt a tear roll down her face, and just like that, she couldn’t get him out of her head.

He was everywhere.

Keep reading

Thievery | Peter Parker x Reader

requested: no

summary: reader is peter’s best friend and has just realized her true feelings. after the school day she is walking home and stops at Delmar’s to get a sandwich where a theif comes in and holds everyone at gunpoint. reader is well trained in fighting and takes him on, unaware that he has powers. spider-man arrives on the scene and things get interesting…

word count: 2252 (sorry it’s so long, got carried away)

a/n: this is my first peter parker one and i’m nervous. also idk how i feel about this but i would be up to writing a part 2..? PLEASE give me feedback, that gives me life. anyway hope you enjoy

part 2

————————

Tucking a strand of Y/H/C hair behind your ear, you steeled yourself to brave the horrors that were the halls of Midtown Science High School. You sucked in a breath and dove in, immediately being shoved from side to side by teenagers preoccupied by their phones, their friends, or their crushes.

“Hey! Hey, Y/N!” You heard your friend Ned shouting for you and pivoted to face him, nearly causing yourself to collide with a huge dude with a mohawk. Luckily, Ned managed to grab your arm and yank you over to him.

Gasping a sigh of relief you thanked him, “Ned, you just saved my life.” To which he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah Y/N, he’s a real spider-man, better actually.” You heard the sarcasm dripping from his mouth before you saw your best friend in the world: Peter Parker. He came into view with his slightly-disheveled (but in a good way) hair. You averted your eyes immediately, feeling that tight sensation in the pit of your stomach. Unfortunately, your inability to meet his eyes did not go unnoticed and Peter’s face melted into worry, “Hey, Y/N? You ok?” His voice was ridden with worry but you just brushed it off.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, just thought I might’ve dropped something.” You mumbled your excuse, gesturing to your overflowing hands with a short nod and flashed him an empty smile. He cocked his eyebrows at you, clearly knowing something was up, but let it go.

“Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight and have a Star Wars marathon with us?” Ned asked as he finished locking away his supplies in his locker and slamming it shut with an ear piercing metal bang. You considered his offer, on one hand you loved hanging out with them, you guys always laughed a lot and a new inside joke came out of every single one of these sleepovers. On the other hand, just this week you noticed something that once realized, could not be shoved to the side; you were falling in love with Peter, fast.

Recognizing your hesitation Ned used his persuasive sing-song voice, “There will be Doritosssss…you’re favorite.” He poked you in the side and you threw your head back and giggled. You glanced sideways at Ned, taking in his goofy grin, raised eyebrows and squinted eyes awaiting your response, and then you couldn’t wait any longer and you met Peter’s gaze. He was looking at you with a small smile and his eyes sparkled light brown with sincere affection. Dammit.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun, who’s house?” You gave in, knowing it was in your best interest both to have fun and because they would fight you on it until you said yes anyway. Both the teenage boys’ faces lit up with excitement.

“5:30!! My house.” Peter exclaimed, clapping his hands together in victory. You snorted a bit and nodded.

“I’ll be there. Alright, I have to run home to clean my room and I want to stop at Delmar’s on the way. Peter you wanna come with? It’s right near your apartment.” You let it slip before you could think better of it. Peter got the face that said “I really want to come but…” and you knew exactly what was coming.

“I have the Stark internship…” You said it in unison with him, earning a small smirk and a sigh, “I’m sorry but I really do need to just finish… some, stuff.. before we all hang out.” You nodded and called a goodbye, turning just too early to see the sorrowful look on his face. He wanted to be with you more than you knew…


“Hey Mr. Delmar!” You called as you entered the bodega. The large man behind the counter smiled at you as you made your way to the fat cat on the counter.

“Hola Y/N. You want a number 3? No pickles?” He asks you, you nod in approval.

“Oh you know me so well,” You shot him a wide smile and then began to scan the aisles to pass the time. You strolled past a mother with her little boy and noted that he was grasping a spider-man toy in his hand and tugging at his mother’s arm.

“Mommy, Mommy, wook, I make Pider-man go flying to help.” His baby lisp only made the entire scene that much cuter, his mother looked down and smiled at him, “Yes baby, Spider-man will always protect you.” You felt your heart leap. You always felt this weird connection to the idea of Spider-man, more-so than any other hero.

“So, Y/N, where is your boyfriend?” You hear Mr. Delmar call as you round the aisle closest to him. He rests an elbow on the counter and raises a single eyebrow in an eerie knowing way. You narrow your eyes at him and prepare to give him the “He’s not my boyfriend speech” that you give him at least twice a week. But you stopped short when his eyes went wide and he raised his hands in submission. He cocked his head at you as an attempt to tell you to get away.

“Put your hands in the air,” You heard a rough voice and then felt a jab in your lower back… a gun. You did as he said and felt him pin your hands together and place them where the gun was, which was now by your head. You felt your heartbeat in your neck and everything seemed to slow down. You saw the woman pull her son behind the furthest aisle, she locked eyes with you and you felt her fear echoed in your face.

“Give me the money, NOW” He shouted at Mr. Delmar, who looked at you with the concern of a parent and did as he said, pulling open the cash register. Pulling yourself out of the haze of fear you forced yourself to remember your training. Closing your eyes tight you drew in a serene breath, One, Two, Three.

Throwing your elbow back, you stomped on his booted foot. He drew away from you with a wheeze of surprise and pain. You threw a hard right hook and distracted him as Mr. Delmar reached for the phone and dialed 911. You actually started to have the upper hand as you kicked out his right foot and he fell to his knee, but then something turned the tables, his hands began to steam and his ski mask caught fire… shit


Peter always followed you home before he started searching for crime, only leaving you if he sees a problem or hears sirens. He was sitting up on top of the building behind the ATM across the street from Delmar’s swinging his legs back and forth and waiting for you to return to view with a sandwich in hand. He pulled his phone out of the side pocket of his backpack and scrolled through to see if he had any new texts from Ned. You were taking longer than usual, he stood up on the edge of the building, careful not to be seen, since he was wearing the Spider-man suit, and searched for you.

Peter knew something was up, he couldn’t keep hiding the secret from you, and eventually Ned would probably let it slip. He thought back to earlier this afternoon when you wouldn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t want to lose you but he didn’t want to put you in jeopardy with you knowing.

“Karen, can I hear what’s happening in there?” Peter asked his suit lady.

“Engaging enhanced reconnaissance mode” He then heard a commotion and could see the heat signatures of two people fighting. Suddenly, however, one of the figures had their hands and head light up red-hot. Shit, Y/N was in there. Peter shot up and jumped from his perch onto the ATM building and then swung down to Delmar’s, blasting through the door. Nobody would hurt Y/N…


You pulled away from the burning man and backed up as far as you could. But you remembered the frightened woman and decided to try and lead him away from them, “Come on, I’m just a teenager why don’t you come get me?” That was the wrong thing to say, he hurled a fireball at your head. You narrowly avoided it but fell to the floor, tripping over a fallen newspaper stack. Your heart caught in your throat as he moved to stand over you, pulling off his mask to reveal a devilish smirk.

“What are you going to do now, babyface?” He growled at you, showcasing his cracked and missing teeth. You cringed away just kind of moving backwards an inch.

“She doesn’t have to do anything, because I will.” Your head whipped up to find the source of the familiar voice. What you found you couldn’t believe… It was him! Spider-man. He shot a web into the middle of the mans chest and used it to pull him forward, he kicked the man in the chest and then looked over at you. “Get everyone out of here! Get to safety.” You looked up at him mesmerized, taking a moment to fully absorb his words and then nodded profusely. You pulled yourself up, muscles aching from the combat you just did and scurried over to huddled mother. 

“Please, you have to get out of her.” The woman nodded and gripped her son tightly, sprinting for the door as he kept pointing at the real version of the small action figure in his hand. You nodded at Mr. Delmar and he began to get employees out. You slowly leaned around one of the aisles to see where they were. Spider-man was locked in combat with him, continuously shooting webs that would melt over his hands so that the punches didn’t burn. You saw that no one else was left in the store and looked around for an exit route. You were blocked in, they had moved over by the doorway. You wanted to help the hero but didn’t know how. Then it occurred to you.

You leaned close to the ground and made your way to the ice cream refrigerator on the wall on the wall. Desperately, you flung the door open and began ripping ice cream off the walls, until there was enough space for you to be able to fit in it. You stood in front of it and then prepared yourself for bravery you were pretty sure you didn’t actually have.

“Hey! Hot-Head! Come at me, I bet I can still take you.” He turned to you and smiled. You turned around fast to make sure the open fridge was right behind you.

“What-what’re you doing!?” Spider-man shouted, but you shook your head, letting the man get closer. His hands caught fire and he pushed you until you were up against the freezer and you caught eyes with Spider-man. You had about 2 seconds to get him to understand. You gestured your head back, ducked down and pushed yourself on the floor between the mans legs and shouted, “WEB HIM.”

In a second a stream of webs shot over your head and sealed the man in the freezer, door still open (you weren’t trying to kill him). Spider-man walked forward and webbed him over and over again. And you knew your theory worked, the fridge counteracted his heat and he could not melt the webs.

When he was done webbing the thief, Spider-man turned to you and cocked his head in a weirdly familiar way, “Thank you, that was really brave..” He seemed confused but also satisfied and sort of… proud?

“Yeah- uh, no of course.” You replied nervously, noticing that he seemed to have made his voice lower since the last time he talked. You took in his muscles and felt a blush creep over your face.

“Listen, I kind of have to go, the cops are going to get here soon and I really don’t want to have to explain to my parents what happened, also I want to be able to hang out with my friends. They’d never let me leave the house again after this…” You gestured to the scene around you. The masked hero nodded. 

“I get it… more than you know. Come here, I can help.” He motioned for you to come outside by the door with him. “Hold on tight.” He grabbed you around the waist once you were out and shot a web, lifting you into the air. It was exhilarating and you felt your hair whipping around your face. However, the joy ride was short. Spider-man brought you to the ground 3 buildings over from Delmar’s just as the first responders arrived on the scene. Miraculously he took you in the direction of your house.

“Now you don’t have to worry, get home safe. I don’t recommend any more stops tonight.” Spider-man said to you. There was a note of deep concern in his voice and again it felt familiar.

“Thank you,” You whispered breathless. Staring at a real hero, one whom you had just helped catch a villain was unreal. He didn’t answer, he merely raised a gloved hand and smoothed down your unruly hair. Then without warning he shot a web out to his right and swung out of view.

Something in your stomach was telling you that you knew the face underneath that mask, but you tucked away that nagging feeling and hauled-ass home.

a love spell, or something like it

inspired by a post sara reblogged (this one, specifically) and the resulting conversation about different love spells, where she suggested i write the fic. i said no, go away, it’s late. then i stayed up and wrote the fic.

This doesn’t make any sense.

Though they’d never admit it—Dean especially would never admit it—they’re practically witches themselves at this point. Sam isn’t deluded enough to think otherwise. He has a fair share of spells up his sleeve that he knows by heart by now, a few more he’s working on remembering, and some he still struggles with the incantation, but at the end of the day they frequently speak Latin and throw herbs into flames, so, logically, they’re witches, or close enough to it.

And it’s because of this (and his own unfortunate experience that no one must ever speak of again, thanks) that Sam knows a love spell when he sees one.

Keep reading

Involved: Part 2

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: Okay so i got like, nine requests and messages for this and I wasn’t going to do it so soon but i am genuinely excited about this. I have no idea where i’m going with it, but im excited nonetheless. PSA this has smut so like……look out

Part 1 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5

Originally posted by winter-hunters

Keep reading

Sunday Morning

Summary: A young man and a young woman run into one another on a Sunday morning at a coffee shop, both of them heartbroken, and rediscover what it means to love and be loved. Bucky x Reader 

 Author’s Note: I’ve been working on this one for a bit. It’s basically the feel-good romance no one ever expected me to write (me included) 

 Words: ~2900

Originally posted by writingandcoffeehouse

Bucky used to love Sunday mornings. They were meant for sleeping in, for curling against the soft, tender body that slept next to him.

They’d had five years of Sunday mornings, of her soft sighs in his ear as she stirred from her sleep, bright green eyes blinking sleepily up at him as he kissed her plush, pink lips. Five years of Sunday mornings, of making coffee in a pair of boxers; of her arms wrapping around him from behind, a soft cheek against his bare back. Five years of Sunday mornings, of sitting at the breakfast bar in their pajamas, her thumb wiping jelly off the corners of his mouth.

Five years of Sunday mornings, wasted.

Keep reading

off limits | 04 (m)

pairing: kim seokjin x reader
genre/warnings: smut, dom! Jin, dare I say fluff…? followed by an ‘oh shit’ moment
words: 12,051
summary: you’ve been lusting after your brother’s best friend for a while now, ever since you met him at a house party, flirting it up a storm as you failed to realise who the other was. That was months ago now and things are still awkward, but you can’t ignore the sexual tension that’s simmers between the two of you…and it keeps getting worse…

  » playlist | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |

Keep reading

Favorite Adam moments

It’s Adam Parrish’s birthday and since he’s a character that has made me bite my fingernails and yell at the page and grin like an idiot and maybe even get a moist eye or two (this despite being spoiled to his ending), here are some of my favorite Adam moments in (I think) chronological order:

Keep reading