i mean i hardly have space for anything more on my walls anyway

anonymous asked:

pleeeeease tell me there's a story about nate and aj? ❤️❤️❤️

WELL ANONS (from this fic):

Andrew Joseph Minyard doesn’t know a thing about Nathaniel Wesninski until he’s sent to kill him.

That’s perhaps more unusual than one would suspect, knowing Andrew. His general disinterest is well known, but he has a personal stake in knowing the movers and shakers of the magical families on the East Coast.

Know your enemies, and all that. Andrew didn’t used to have those, until he met Kevin Day and finally picked a side that wasn’t himself and his best interests. Now he kills people for righteousness, or what the fuck ever.

“The Wesninskis have a new leader,” Wymack tells them, hands folded on his desk like this is very serious news. “It’s Nathan’s kid, apparently. He’s cleaned house. Or it might be more accurate to say that he wiped the old circle off of the map entirely.”

Like he always does, Kevin goes pale at the mention of one of those families. Wymack flicks him a glance before continuing, “It’s not immediately clear where he stands on the old family alliances, but it makes sense for us to move now while he’s unsettled.”

Andrew can see where this is going already. “I didn’t realise we were killing off children now.”

Wymack shoots him a level look. “He’s twenty-two. Barely younger than you.”

“Well, I suppose that’s alright then,” Andrew replies agreeably. “When do I leave?”

“Hold on. Didn’t he kill his own father?” Nicky cuts in. “Shouldn’t that require a little more investigation than ‘when do I leave’?”

Dan waves a hand. “He’s a mage. Killer or not, he won’t be able to protect himself against non-magical weapons.”

“Don’t worry Nicky. I don’t like to be too well prepared,” Andrew says. It’s not meant to be soothing.

That’s how he ends up crawling through an upper-storey window of the Wesninski mansion, cursing mages and rusted locks. The house is probably warded - Andrew couldn’t say. To him it’s just like breaking into any other house.

What he does notice is the complete emptiness of the building. While mages don’t often have non-magical defence - and Andrew would be a lot less successful if they invested in some attack dogs, or even burglar alarms - they do generally at least have people. But every room he passes - soundlessly, of course - has its door flung wide open to display its total emptiness.

Every instinct he has is screaming. For a moment, he wonders if Wesninski has cleared out of the house entirely. But, despite the limited information for this trip, Andrew knows Wymack wouldn’t send him on a wild goose chase. The mage is here.

He creeps down the stairs, sticking close to the wall. It’s a broad staircase, gaudy even in the near-darkness. Apparently the elder Wesninski had more money than taste.

The lounge is no more elegant, and still empty of people. Beyond it, though, light falls from the doorway. Andrew creeps towards it, palming one of his knives.

Apparently, all his quiet was wasted. The person through the door is waiting for him - and this, having met Nathan, is definitely his son.

Twenty-two he may be, but Wesninski looks like a kid. With his fair falling into his face as he slouches against the kitchen island, he looks nothing like someone who could have killed Nathan and the entire rest of his circle in one fell swoop. Any tracery of magic in him isn’t detectable to Andrew though - for all he knows, the air could be singing with it.

The only giveaway that this man isn’t as normal as Andrew is the curling tattoo emerging over the collar of his t-shirt. It’s a mage-mark, and it’s large. Even Kevin, the most powerful of the Foxes in terms of sheer strength, doesn’t have one that extends so far across his skin.

“You’re AJ Minyard,” Wesninski says. He looks excited about that. Andrew didn’t realise he was a groupie. It’s the danger of being a contract killer - being known by your signature. Andrew is Andrew, except when he’s AJ and earning his keep in blood.

“Usually, your kind is throwing spells by now,” he replies blandly. Not that it ever helps them.

“That would be a waste of time, though. Wouldn’t it?” Wesninski says. “You’re immune.”

Well then. “You’re smarter than you look,” Andrew informs him. 

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why you’re so successful,” Wesninski shrugs. “I need to send a message to Kevin.”

Wesninski isn’t following the script. Andrew glances at his watch - usually they’d have gotten past the initial failed attempt to blast Andrew off of the face of the earth with magic and moved onto either running - unusual, mages didn’t like to run - or begging. “Do I look like a messenger to you?”

That earns a thin smile. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is that demeaning?”

“If you think I’m here for that, then you’re confused,” Andrew says. 

Wesninski throws his arms wide. “Well, go ahead then. You know I can’t fight you. And it’s not like I can run.”

Fuck’s sake, Andrew didn’t come here for a conversation. Still, though - he throws a glance at Wesninski’s legs. “Too lazy for it?”

“Not exactly. I know you probably don’t care for magical theory, so the short explanation is that right now I can’t leave this house. Hence wanting to speak with Kevin. The best I could do is hide in a closet, and I can’t imagine that would deter you.”

“As sob-stories go, you might want to try ‘but I have children and a wife’,” Andrew advises. 

“As if that would help me.” Wesninski rolls his eyes. “That’s fine. I wasn’t expecting you to help me for free. I’ll give you something you want in exchange.”

Andrew really should have just killed him instead of saying a word. Corpses are so much less trouble. He raises an eyebrow to signal that his patience is wearing thin.

“If you want a chance at getting anywhere near Riko Moriyama, you’ll help me,” Wesninski says.

That’s an interesting offer. “What makes you think I care about that?”

“Do you think it isn’t common knowledge in the upper circles about what happened between him and Kevin?” Wesninski says. “Plus you’ve been working your way through all the high blood families over the last year. I figured a Moriyama must be right up there on your wish list. Particularly that one.”

He isn’t wrong. “I’m not here to make a deal with you.”

“Are you sure about that?” That smile again. It’s really a wonder someone so irritating hasn’t been killed already. “I have access to the Moriyamas now, whether they like it or not. I think you’d like to make use of that. Better move fast, though - you aren’t the only one who wants to kill me.”

Riko would already be dead if he were easier to get to. And Nathaniel now has his father’s seat on the council, even if he killed for it - succession is muddy  and ugly amongst mages at the best of times. He’d hardly be the first to do it that way. 

He’s right. Andrew could use that. Getting into Castle Evermore is difficult, and Nathaniel has a free pass through the front gates. If he could smuggle Andrew inside…if he were willing to do so…

“What’s in it for you?” Andrew asks.

“What, you mean besides you not murdering me tonight and me getting out of this fucking house?” So sardonic. “I don’t like the Moriyamas any more than you do, Wesninski blood or no. I don’t care if I die, as long as Riko goes first.”

It seems their interests all line up. Andrew can deal with Riko at last, and might even get a shot at the other Moriyamas in the process. He smiles a little bit, feeling his face cracking.

“Well, Nathaniel. Looks like you might be useful to me after all.”

Wesninski makes a face. “I go by ‘Nate’.”

“I really don’t care,” Andrew tells him. “I would say ‘wait here’, but I suppose that’s irrelevant, isn’t it? I’ll come to you.”

The with a message or a knife is unspoken but clearly implied. Nathaniel - Nate - smiles thinly.

“Better hurry,” he says. “Offer ends if I’m dead.”

Say You Love Me

Spock x Reader

Word Count: 1900

Prompt: “I miss you.” “Love me.”

Summary: You feel neglected by Spock and just want him to tell you he cares about you. 

You expected him to say it at the wedding. He did not and it hurt you more than you expected. Why couldn’t he just say it? You already had so many times. You told him again in your vows at the wedding, that’s where you assumed he’d say it. But those three words were never uttered from your husbands lips. Which annoyed you, but you understood what the half of him that was Vulcan did to his character. Jim could see you were upset at the after party, which was more for you than Spock. Jim told you that Spock had told you about the different ways he loved you, just not with those words. You admitted it hurt you and you did feel like maybe he didn’t love you as much as you loved him. But that begged the question of why would he marry you if he didn’t love you? Jim had just tried to tell you how you were wrong and Spock did love you. But it was hard to believe him when he hadn’t actually said it yet. 

Your comm rang and seeing it was Spock you ignored it. It went to the message. 

“Y/n. You don’t seem to be answering my comm calls. So I am assuming you are ignoring me or have lost your comm. I wasn’t aware you had any activities occurring today that meant you were exiting the house. If you could please call me back I would be much obliged and less worried by the lack of communication, I will see you when I return home.” He hung up and you sat back on the bed. You felt bad but you also wanted him to be worried in a way because, it showed that he cares. Maybe that was manipulative but you needed the affirmation that he didn’t stay with you and marry you for some other reason.

Later that day, the doorbell rang, so you knew it wasn’t Spock. Going to the door you opened it. It was Jim. 

“So. You’re not dead!” He exclaimed. “I’m Spock’s eyes and ears because apparently you haven’t been returning any of the poor Vulcans’ calls and he’s getting worried.” Jim walked in and got a beer from the kitchen. 

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Per Manum Flashback #1

“Well, you need a father, of course. I can get you genetic counseling on finding an anonymous donor, if that’s what you want… unless you already have someone in mind.”
“Yeah… I, uh… I just have to figure out how to ask him.”

This is all happening so fast.

She’d only wanted to know if it would be possible. Someday. Not necessarily right now. She knew that the abduction and experimentation had left her unable to conceive, and for a long time she’d accepted her fate. But lately, since she and Mulder have become intimate, she can’t help thinking more and more about what-if. It’s led her to question the specifics of her infertility: would her body be capable of carrying a pregnancy to term if she used a donor egg, for example. Simple information gathering.

But then yesterday Mulder dropped the bombshell on her about the ova he stole from the Lombard Research Facility, almost three years ago. Actually, “bombshell” is far too sedate a word. He stole her ova, secretly had them tested, never told her when they were deemed inviable, and then kept them hidden in his freezer anyway.

But despite the odds, Dr. Parenti seems to think there’s a chance. And a time window that’s rapidly closing. Which means that “someday” just became “now.” And that means she has to figure out how to ask Mulder the question she thought she might have years to plan, if she ever had to ask it at all.

What if he’s not ready for that? God, she is barely ready, and she wants it so badly she can hardly breathe. What will she do if he says no?

What if this breaks them?

She can’t ask him in person, she realizes. If he turns her down, she won’t be able to hide her disappointment, and she doesn’t want him to feel guilted into saying yes if he truly doesn’t want this. No, he needs time, and privacy, to think it over and make his own decision. She will write him a letter and drop it off at the office.

And now she still has to figure out how in the hell to ask the biggest question of her life.


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A/N: I’m doing that economical thing again but hey ho. This is solid proof that I need to get laid tbh. Very smutty. Mature content warnings apply.

You sucked your teeth idly as your gaze bored into the computer screen in front of you. Your office was quiet save for the sounds of typing and the occasional hushed cough. You reclined back into your uncomfortable office chair, as if waiting for something to happen to distract you before you submerged yourself in work again. 

Almost on cue your phone vibrated on the desk next to you, making you jump. You tilted your head to the side to read the message illuminated on the screen. Your chest fluttered slightly when you saw Elliot’s name. 

You coming over later?

The words were stark and you imagined them tumbling from Elliot’s lips suddenly if he were there in person. Another text came through. 

Missed you.

You’d been away for the last week visiting family and hadn’t had chance to see Elliot before heading back to work. It was very simplistic, but it made you smile nonetheless. Elliot very often tiptoed around you. He was ignorant to all of this when you first started this thing you had but he soon realised he couldn’t just demand your attention whenever he wanted it. Deep down you knew he could do exactly that. 

Something about the emotional undertone of his message stirred something within you. You imagined him whispering the words against your skin later on with his hands all over you, completely relaxed to your touch and heady with need. 

You snatched up the phone before your thoughts could run away any further and fired off a reply. 

I missed you too. And I’m going to show you just how much later.

It took Elliot a few minutes to reply. You wondered briefly if you’d flustered him but realised it took more than a little flirting over text to draw a reaction out of Elliot. Eventually your phone went off again.

What do you mean by that?

Did he want you to speculate? Or did he require clarification? You bit your lip as you typed and deleted and re-typed a response several times until you settled on one.

I’m pretty wound up after a week so I was hoping you could relieve me. You’re very good at that.

You drummed your fingers on the desk distractedly as you waited for a response. Your mind was intoxicated with thoughts of Elliot now. You imagined his full lips slack and his brow furrowed as his hips met against yours - you could almost feel the hard muscle of his thighs hitting against your ass. 

You jumped again when your phone vibrated this time, biting your lip as you checked the message tentatively. 

I’m at work so we shouldn’t…but I kind of like it. Can’t wait.

Ever the wordsmith, you thought as you held back a delirious laugh. You needed to rile him, in the same way he’d inadvertently done to you. You stood up from your desk, trying to ignore the slight tremor in your legs as you picked up your phone and made your way to the bathroom. 

Once inside the cubicle you paced for a few moments wondering if you should be doing this - it was undiscovered territory with Elliot but you didn’t want to turn down the opportunity to really rile him. 

You looked around the basic toilet cubicle - it was hardly the most alluring of spots but you had to make do with the limited privacy you had. You quickly unbuttoned your blouse, trying out a couple of different angles with the front-facing camera of your phone. It took a few minutes to find the right angle but the thought of Elliot’s (probable) reaction spurred you on. 

Eventually you had two photos to send - one bra on, one bra off. You felt a little self-conscious about your face being in both of them but you looked surprisingly good. Your makeup had survived the office environment well that day and your eyes looked sultry and your lips fuller as they were slightly parted. Plus you trusted Elliot. If anything he was overly safe about this kind of thing. Not the kind of guy to just leave his phone lying around. 

Before you could think about it any longer you’d sent the pictures off with no text to accompany them. For a few seconds you stood staring dumbly at his phone, expecting a reply straight away but when there wasn’t one you quickly re-dressed yourself and left the bathroom. 

2 minutes turned into 20. And then 2 hours. You were beyond annoyed by this point considering you’d put yourself out there like that. The space around you grew noisy as you tapped away at the keyboard aggressively. You couldn’t decide who you were more annoyed at. Yourself or Elliot. Maybe he didn’t even like you anymore. 

Finally the end of work rolled around and stood up, roughly putting your jacket on as you heard your phone ping. You froze and looked down at the screen which displayed a simple message.

Come straight over.

Was he for real? You snatched up the phone and checked through the messages just in case you might have missed one earlier. But there was nothing. No references to the pictures you’d sent him.

You thought about blowing him off altogether but you were still annoyed so you decided to give Elliot a piece of your mind and head to his apartment. 

Despite your initial feelings you did find yourself softening a little as you rocked with the movement of the subway train. Maybe Elliot hadn’t known how to react. It was a bit harsh of you to blow up at him without explanation. And after a week of not sleeping next to him you had missed him. A lot. 

The apartment was already open when you arrived so he must have seen you arrive but said nothing. You felt oddly apprehensive as you climbed the stairs of his apartment building. You pushed on the apartment door which opened slowly and entered, letting it fall shut behind you. 

Elliot was seated at his desk typing away as usual as if he hadn’t noticed you enter. You felt a little hurt at that but pressed on regardless. 

‘Hey…’ You sauntered over to where he was sat, running your finger tips across his shoulder but quickly drawing away when he tensed up. You thought he had abandoned that habit with you. 

'Yo…’ Elliot responded, his voice distant as he continued typing. You couldn’t make out what was on the screen save for some rolling code. 

'What’s up? I thought you said you missed me.’ You tried to keep your tone light but you’re stomach was starting to cramp a little with worry. 

'I did but you’ve pissed me off.’ Elliot’s shoulders were completely tense now and you took a step back. You weren’t afraid of him but his behaviour was abnormal to say the least. 

'What do you mean?’

'Those pictures Y/N.’ Elliot stood up and his desk chair spun a little as he paced away towards his kitchen area. You felt your face heat up with embarrassment. 

'I didn’t think it would make you angry.’ You shot back hotly, folding your arms tightly over your chest. You felt ashamed now and mad that he’d made you feel that way.

'Don’t you realise how irresponsible that is?’ Elliot’s cold tone made your eyes water as he spoke. You looked away from him and pointedly at the floor, trying to focus on your anger rather than your embarrassment. 

'Well it’s my responsibility! You don’t get to dictate what I do with my body.’ You snapped, nibbling at your lower lip. 'I wish I’d never sent them to you now anyway.' 

Elliot’s annoyed expression continued to bore into you. His pupils were slightly dilated which made his eyes look darker. You briefly wondered if he’d taken anything.

'I wish I’d never received them. But only because I don’t want someone else to get their hands on them.’

'Oh whatever Elliot. Why don’t you just admit that you’re not feeling it anymore?’

Elliot’s brow furrowed, his frustration evident. 'Feeling what? People have their lives ruined by this shit Y/N. I just want you to be safe.' 

You felt beyond stupid and upset now, trying to ignore the tears pricking your eyes as grew more and more defensive. 'I am safe and I don’t need lecturing from you. If you don’t want me then just admit it.' 

With that you took that it was your cue to leave and made your way towards the door. Elliot stepped forward quickly and grabbed your wrist - although his touch was very delicate and he let go as soon as you stopped to look at him.

'Look I didn’t mean to grab hold of you but I’m sorry okay? I was just fucking worried. I’ve seen some horrible shit.' 

You avoided his eye, unable to conjure up a decent response to give him. The tension between the two of you was still tightly wound and unpredictable and you didn’t want to erupt again. 

'And if you must know…’ Elliot mumbled, his eyes shifting towards the far wall rather than your face. ’…you have no idea what you do to me.’

'What do you mean?’ You replied in little more than a whisper, feeling the space between your legs flush slightly and mix weirdly with the anger which had been radiating off you only seconds earlier.

'That stuff earlier just set me off. I tried to fucking - jesus, I tried to get off at work but obviously I couldn’t.’ Elliot’s cheeks looked slightly flushed now and his jaw was taught as he averted his gaze from you. You throbbed at the thought of him getting off - or rather trying to get off - to you. Images of Elliot’s tensed features as he fisted at his cock danced across your brain as you bit your lower lip.

'Should I go?’ The words left your mouth as though they were a dare, suspended and almost taunting. 

'No.’ Elliot croaked and stepped towards you. His touch was always clumsy and awkward at first - he needed a moment to recalibrate. He grabbed you by the waist, you could feel the hard tips of his fingers digging into your ribs and it hurt but you didn’t complain. You kind of liked it.

You made the first move to kiss - you knew your kisses turned Elliot into a squirming mess. Surprisingly he got the upper-hand as he pushed his lips against yours roughly. You stopped dead still, breath catching in your throat when you felt his tongue tease at your bottom lip. Just as you opened your mouth to allow his tongue in further he bit down on your bottom lip. That made you jump and it was kind of sore but insanely hot. You whined softly, hands fisting themselves in Elliot’s hoodie as he sucked your lip. 

When you pulled apart you were gasping - you could feel your underwear sticking to you from where you’d grown insanely wet already. Elliot looked equally flushed, perhaps even a little surprised at himself as his tongue touched his swollen lips.

'That is unlike you.’ Was all you could mutter lamely. Out of the corner of your eye you could see that your hand was tremoring slightly.

'You don’t like it?’ There was a hint of anxiety to Elliot’s voice now. As lovers you were still so unsure of yourselves - each other’s boundaries included.

'Actually I’d like some more.’ You tried to sound teasing but instead you stuttered slightly. Elliot’s expression darkened again to how he’d looked earlier when you first arrived. 

'Good because this isn’t an act. I’m still pissed at you.’

'For getting you frustrated?' 

'You fucking know why.’ Elliot snapped and made his way over to his desk chair where he sat. Before you had to chance to move he was unbuckling his belt and roughly pushing his jeans down to his ankles. Elliot hissed quietly as he took his cock out of his boxers, it was flushed and rock hard. Elliot looked down, his lips pursed as he wiped his fingers over the wet tip a few times before beginning to stroke himself lazily. When he looked up he raised his eyebrows at you. 

'Come here.’

You swallowed hard and moved towards him. Your movements felt mechanical - you were pretty sure you were still in shock at Elliot’s sudden change in demeanour and it was making your head spin. 

By the time you’d kneeled down in front of Elliot - noting the discomfort of the cheap wooden apartment flooring under your knees - you could hear the quiet wet noises coming from Elliot’s cock as he stroked himself and his voice was strained as if holding back a grunt as he spoke. 

'I want you to…please.’ The 'please’ came out as Elliot’s breath caught in his throat and you knew he was still there, your Elliot - behind the anger and arousal of the man in front of you. You delicately placed a hand over Elliot’s, prising it away from himself as your mouth descended over his length. Elliot sucked in a shrill breath as you moved your mouth all the way down to the base of him. His dick felt hot inside your mouth, slightly salty from where he’d probably been sweating over you earlier. But it wasn’t unpleasant and you were turned on by how frantic his actions were. 

You began to move your lips up and down slowly, focussing more so on swirling your tongue around the tip of Elliot’s cock as you blew him. The motion made him swear under his breath and a hand found its way to the back of your head as he gently urged you on. When you brought a hand up to wrap around him he let out a growl - an actual growl which made you ache - and pushed your hand away. 'No no I’m too sensitive.' 

Occasionally he’d lift your head up and stare at your glazed expression, his eyes roaming over your wet lips which were starting to feel swollen from the motion. It was hot knowing he was getting off to watching your mouth get covered in spit and precum, but you knew Elliot well enough to know that he was searching in your face for your ongoing willingness and the insecurity was probably teasing him in the back of his brain. As a result you increased the speed of your sucking, tilting your head slightly as you did so that he caught every velvety corner of your mouth. 'Jesus fuck.’ Elliot swore as his hips bucked into your mouth. You wanted to look up and see the sight you’d been thinking about earlier - his scrunched eyes and slack mouth but you couldn’t, not yet.

'Stop, stop please! Otherwise I’ll cum-’ The words came out as a rush from Elliot and you pulled your mouth off him, squeezing the base of his cock tightly just in case.

'Isn’t that the point?’ You said breathlessly, studying every bit of Elliot’s fucked out face as he panted in the chair. 

'I wanted to fuck you first.’ His voice was back to a low drawl with just a hint of breathlessness behind it. He leaned forward and quickly kissed your wet lips, his tongue dipping into mouth as he rather confidently tasted himself. You whined at the sensation, unable to take it this time as your hips bucked forward and rutted against Elliot’s shin. Elliot let out a short breath which could have been a laugh if his tongue wasn’t in your mouth. All of a sudden he was off the chair, even his small frame felt imposing as he hovered over you pushing you right down onto the wooden floorboards.

'Here? Really?’ You gasped out as Elliot set to work unbuttoning your work trousers with his nimble fingers. You allowed him to roughly pull them down, abandoning his task half way through when he realised he’d forgotten about your shoes. It made you smirk when he prised them awkwardly off your feet which earnt you a rough squeeze of your thigh.

'Serves you right for earlier. Stupid girl.’ Elliot replied but you could hear the teasing in his voice. He leant forward and gave you a soft kiss as he removed your underwear. It was a reminder that he didn’t really hate you, that you were wanted and he was all yours. 

You gasped when your ass came into contact with cold wooden floorboards beneath you. Elliot bit his lip and kneaded your ass cheeks roughly in his hands which made you jump. 


'Sorry.’ He replied bashfully and his lips pulled into a half smile as his hand grazed your inner thigh. You closed your eyes and tried not to hold your breath as his fingertips traced over the lips of your pussy. Fortunately Elliot was never much in the mood for teasing and he plunged two fingers into you easily. Your back arched almost painfully from the wooden floor and you saw Elliot smirk at how wet you were as his fingers glided in and out of you easily.

'Fuck.’ You gasped when Elliot rolled his thumb over your clit, his fingers already beginning a 'come hither’ motion as he found your g-spot easily.

'You really like pissing me off, don’t you?’ Elliot aided his question with a quick flick of his fingers which made you bite down on your lip. 

'Answer.’ He prompted you again with his fingers, the speed slowly increasing and the pressure on your clit growing more insistent as Elliot drew you closer.

'Yes. Fuck. Okay yes I do.’ You moaned out, very close to cumming as your hips bucked against Elliot’s fingers of their own accord. 

'That’s kind of messed up Y/N.’ Elliot drawled as he brought you off with his hand. You would feel embarrassed about gushing all over his hand but it felt so good you didn’t care. You managed a high pitched 'El’ followed by a series of whimpers as you came hard. 

You took a few seconds to come down from your high and when you finally opened you eyes you could see that Elliot was fisting his cock tightly again, bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

'Sorry you looked so good then I couldn’t help it.’ He gasped out and you noticed that it was his hands that were shaking now as he kneeled between your legs. 

'May I?’ Elliot asked as he hovered over you, dick in hand ready to enter. 

'Yes Christ, please do.’ Was all you managed you hiss out as Elliot entered you in one fluid motion. You were worried he wouldn’t be able feel anything due to how wet you were but he still let out a low groan as he pushed all the way in.

'This probably won’t last long sorry.’ Elliot said through his teeth as his hips started to rock against yours, the floorboards creaking underneath you. 

'Fuck I don’t care just fill me up.’ You gasped out in return which made Elliot swear under his breath again as he picked up pace, wet sounds coming from the place where your hips met as he fucked you frantically.

'El, El, El…’ You didn’t know why you were saying his name like that but it was like a chorus. All you could do was grip Elliot’s slender hips tightly, urging him deeper as his hips rolled against yours. Elliot kept one hand tightly on your ass cheek, kneading the soft flesh hard as he held you still on the floor whilst the other hand rested just above your head as he supported himself above you.

'Fuck, ah…’ Elliot bit out and suddenly you could feel yourself being flooded with warmth as he buried himself in you. Elliot stayed very still for a few moments, his sweaty brow pressed against your shoulder as he panted above you. Climax for Elliot was similar to being high and this was very much his comedown.

'You’re so good.’ You breathed out over Elliot’s shoulder and kissed the damp skin there whilst your back throbbed with pain from being down on the wooden floor. 

After that the anger was all but forgotten. Elliot lectured you of course but he wasn’t mad at all. In fact you were very pleased with yourself, pleased with the fact that from now on you knew exactly how to get Elliot going.

la douleur exquise (3)

Originally posted by veriloquentmind

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10


Appearance of another EXO member

I’d be lying to myself if I said that I didn’t enjoy work since it was a rewarding job to say the least. The company was extremely well known and I had met a lot of very important people in the business world. The only thing that I could live without was the awkwardness I felt whenever I was around Sehun, and I didn’t think that it was going to end anytime soon. I still felt like he was teasing me whenever I was alone with him in his office.

I’ve already been here just under a month and I have already learned a lot about how Sehun has changed since the time we were together. Most of the things I heard about him was from Jay since she has worked for him for about 6 months now and the rest I’ve picked up myself.

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anonymous asked:

Story prompt: a new homeowner is unaware that a demon summoning circle lives under the floorboards. One night, a creature dies on the circle, and the fresh blood summons....?

I hated my new apartment. You would have thought my ex-husband would let me keep my own fucking house - the one that I grew up in - but no, I was the one that had to move out. And I did. Without a fuss, apparently. I don’t know who was worse sometimes, me or him.

The pipes creaked, the hot tap in the kitchen didn’t work, and there was a crack in the plaster in the living room. It was always cold and I was still pretty sure I had mice living in the walls.

This wasn’t home. It wasn’t life.

I lay in bed shivering, curled in on myself and wishing for something…. I don’t know… more. My ex got the house, he got the new girlfriend, the promotion, even our cat, Blue. What did I get? Mice.

I could hear them now, scratching. The worst house guests ever. They didn’t pay rent, so couldn’t they at least shut the fuck up at this time of night?

The street light outside my window flickered and went out as I tried to get to sleep.  

The pipes gurgled.

The clock ticked.

The mice scratched.

And a voice spoke, right next to my ear.

“Who has summoned me?” It said simply.

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Dauntless: Caffeine, Baby?

Eric x OC

Warnings: language

Wow, Eric was being more of an asshole then usual. I leaned against the wall with crossed arms as the new initiates filed past sleepily, hardly able to even hold their eyes open.

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Closing In (a show canon ficlet from Alec’s POV)

He took his sister inside to safety, relieved that she came to her senses, worried for her state of mind and physical health, but she’s back and he will do whatever it takes to help her through it.

He hears a sound that makes him freeze in movement and strain his hearing. It’s a mingle of clanging, screeching and screaming as if he were under water. When he rushes out of the room, he sees a blinding white light spilling from every window and crevice from the institute’s walls, through the roof of the cathedral into the night sky.

He stands frozen, his lungs so tight he can barely breathe, his stomach turning into knots.

His body wills his feet to move, faster, down the stairs, taking too many steps at a time yet sure-footed, and he hurries into the institute’s main hall, his legs slowing as his eyes take in the view before him. Bodies, corpses, so many of them.


Somebody activated the Soul Sword and killed them all.

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Moving Tips and Apartment Advice

As I’m packing up for the 10th move of my life I’ve realized that I definitely have a system in place and things that I do to help make the process a little easier. Here are some things that I have done over the years:

1. Ask your job, or local grocery/hardware stores if they have boxes you can have: For me and my anxiety levels it is much easier for me to ask my job to save shipment boxes for me to use for my move (be sure to take them home immediately or they may be thrown out the next morning), but I can remember driving around with my Dad to pick up shipment boxes from grocery stores. Usually they were happy to give them to us, because they were going to be thrown out anyway, but sometimes they’d turn is down- which is fine. Always remember to show your appreciation and thank them.

2. Use clothes to cushion fragile items: Bubblewrap is surprisingly expensive, so I use my clothes instead. If it’s summertime I will use my fall wardrobe for this, and vise-a-versa (obviously do not use clothes with zippers or other hardware). This way you’ve packed up the part of your wardrobe you’re not currently wearing and your valuables/fragiles are protected.

3. Garbage bag your clothes: Speaking of clothes, the best way to pack up your closet is by leaving the items on the hanger (trust me, it’s a pain to un-hang them, pack, and re-hang when you have an entire apartment to unpack), take a large garbage bag and slide it over your clothes while they’re still hanging on the rack. Make sure the hanger hooks are outside the top of the bag and tie it tightly- this way you can hold the bag by the hanger hooks and they won’t fall into the bag. Then when you get to your new place you just place the hanger hooks on your new closet rack, untie the bag -and wala!- your clothes are hung and you’re done (doing this also saves boxes for other things)

4. Save junk mail the month before your move: It will take over your coffee table/desk, but old newspaper and magazines come in handy when it comes to packing up your kitchenware. 

Apartment Advice

1. Observe the surrounding area and make visits: This is something I should have done, but I was in such a rush to move in that I didn’t. Drive around the block and take note of your surroundings- what businesses are nearby? Are you near a school? A police station? Maybe a church? Are there stoplights nearby? This is important and could impact the noise level of your living space (For example: after I moved in I realized that there’s a fire station across the street from us on one side, a college campus on the other, and there isn’t a stoplight for a good mile- which means I hear loud sirens at all hours of the day and night, there are a lot of college kids here so there are obnoxious parties/fights every weekend and hardly any parking when school is in session, and people love to race down my street engines blaring). Visit the apartment complex in the middle of the afternoon or at night to see what the atmosphere is like- are people being crazy? Are there security guards patrolling? This is something you need to know and see for yourself- after all, you will be living there for the next 6 months-year.

2. Be SURE to read and understand your lease: This is an obvious one, but it’s so important. They can be tricky with how they word things, so be sure that you ask plenty of questions whenever you don’t understand something (the landlord/manager should go over the lease with you, and if they don’t then you should ask them to). Especially pay attention to anything involving deposits, break-lease fees, terminations, and maintenance. IMPORTANT: when it’s time for a lease renewal, revisit your lease paperwork a month or two in advance to see if you need to give 30 days notice of renewal or termination. Sometimes if you’re moving out and you fail to give 30 days notice you may be charged a half-month/months rent even though you won’t be living in the facility (i am currently going through this.. it’s not fun).

3. Document EVERYTHING: After moving in make a list of all of the things that are wrong with the apartment (burn on the counter, carpet stains, broken blinds, bent vents, crack in the wall, etc) and photograph them if you can (with a picture date). Make a copy of the list and give it to your landlord- make sure to date and sign it. This way, when you move out, they can’t take these things out of your deposit because you didn’t cause that damage- and if they try, show them the list and remind them of the copy in your file. In addition, save all paperwork that you receive, especially if it pertains to scheduled maintenance on your unit (very helpful if they never show up and try to use your deposit to repair things that would have been in working order if they kept up with maintenance).

I hope that you found this information helpful! Moving is so difficult as it is, so any tips and tricks help. I wish you the best on your move and that your new living space is all that you need it to be and more : )


A/N: lmao i wrote something bc school has started and im inactive af and i dont want to lose my audience enjoy. also idk what to title this it’s so ??? drabblish 

Summary: dan sees a picture of phil he had no intention of seeing and it ruins his life in a positive way. also punk/pastel trope bc im dead inside. this isn’t meant to be a true testimony to my writing capabilities in case you realize how sloppy it is 

Words:  1722

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TITLE Corina


AUTHOR: lokilover9

Original Imagine: Imagine you’re an Asgardian Woman married to a nobleman. After a few years into your marriage, he begins to ignore you sexually. Each time you are both invited to Royal gatherings, he gets a bit drunk and acts like an ass so you avoid him. You’ve also noticed how incredibly gorgeous Loki is and often had to snap yourself out of staring at him.


Loki and Corina laid quietly relaxing, but the suspense of not knowing what happened to Gunnar was killing her.

“Please?” She asked him. “I’d really like to know.”

“If you must.” Loki chuckled. “Did you see what was being served for dessert?”

“You mean the ice cream with fruit and several flavored sauces?”

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to @badromantics I blame you entirely for this

to @assbutts-and-angelwings and @thoughts-of-a-teenage-garbagecan and @kanadianwithashippingproblem who also want to read my terrible shamefic despite not knowing what awaits them

to everyone else: I’m so sorry, but at least it’s the night time and you’re all hopefully sleeping through this

The door jangles, and Hamilton strides in like he owns the place. “Mr. Burr! Glad to see you well today!”

Burr pauses at the words, quill in hand. “Hamilton, good afternoon.” He says, because being polite is important. “With how often you come to visit, it’s a wonder you haven’t interrupted a client meeting yet.” He adds, because he has no intentions of actually being polite.

“Oh please,” Hamilton saunters over to Burr’s desk, confidently leaning a hand against the corner. “You never take clients before dusk.” His eyes flick to Burr’s, challenging, waiting for a reaction.

For a moment, Burr does not breathe. He forces himself to exhale, very carefully not reacting. “So I do,” He fights the urge to swallow, winning by a bare margin. Hamilton had been over often lately, asking certain questions. Never too many at once, never enough for Burr to really worry- a “wow, you sure keep your office dark” here, a “How come I never catch you in town anymore?” there. Now though, Hamilton is being bold, Burr’s suspicions slowly edging into confirmations. “Why are you here now, Hamilton? Don’t you have your own practice to run?”

Hamilton leans further over the desk, almost entering Burr’s personal space. Even so, his hand edges dangerously close to the inkwell, crowding over several important documents. Burr grits his teeth silently. “I’m nearly next door, it’s hardly an inconvenience. Much easier to come to you directly, when I have,” Hamiltons lips quirk upward, “questions.”

Hamilton knows. Burr doesn’t know how he put it together, but clear as day, he knows. Burr’s mind flashes white-cold with panic, heart suddenly hammering. “I see,” He says, in lieu of actual words. “Unfortunately, I’m busy right now. If you could come by again another day?”

“Oh, surely you can’t be too busy. I just need a little advice, for a case of mine.” Hamilton smirks, other hand fiddling with something in the folds of his jacket. Burr succeeds in not chasing the motion with his eyes, but loses against the impulse to swallow.

He hasn’t done anything, Burr reminds himself; and then says, “Just make an appointment Hamilton, like anyone else. I have things to do.”

Something glints from between Hamilton’s fingers, catching the light of Burr’s table candle. The hand on his table curls slightly, fingers splayed against the smooth wooden surface. “It’s very important, though. You see, a certain client of mine has been noticing strange tendencies in their work friend.” Hamilton’s hand curls. The candlelight flickers, reflecting for a moment, a sharp silver outline. “This may sound outlandish, but my client suspects that it may very well be a case of vampirism.”

This time, Burr really does freeze. Hamilton’s limbs are bent, somehow before Burr even noticed. His eyes flash. Burr sets his quill down gently against the desk. He summons his strength. With as much speed and strength as he could summon, Burr surges from the chair.

Hamilton is just as quick, throwing his body around the table. Burr charges, nothing but pure instinct. Maybe that is why Hamilton manages to throw an elbow deep into Burr’s diaphragm. Burr wavers, gasping, and that’s all the time Hamilton needs to carry his momentum forward, slamming Burr against the wall so hard his head knocks hard against the vertical surface.

Burr snarls inhumanly, throwing himself forward; but Hamilton has the leverage, hurling one arm against Burr’s chest, and the other against Burr’s outstretched arms. In a quick flurry of movement, Hamilton has Burr’s arms locked above his head, trapped between wall and forearm and bruising grip. Hamilton’s body traps his, legs preventing his own from kicking up, other arm forcing his chest back.

“Easy now,” Hamilton whispers, face far too close. Burr can do nothing but flail wildly- the grip on his wrists falters- “Easy!” Hamilton hisses, louder. Burr freezes at the sudden feeling of ice-cold-burning-silver at his neck. He stops struggling, forcing his head back against the wall, away from the burning metal.

They stay like that for a moment, heavy breathing filling the air. “That’s better,” Hamilton praises with a smirk, teeth flashing. Burr smooths his face, forcing away every last bit of anger and panic and fear. Some of the last remains despite his best efforts, a tiny tremor of a frown in the corner of his lip. His hands clench and unclench, tendons flexing against Hamilton’s steel trap of an arm. Burr pushes back the instinctive desire to shake, forcing iron into his spine instead, his posture ramrod straight.

“Now, open up, let’s see them.” Hamilton speaks softly, as if Burr were a wild animal in need of encouragement. For a moment, Burr doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but Hamilton gestures at Burr’s mouth, as well as he can with the knife, both hands occupied.

“If I say no?” Burr tries, eyes tracking the blade. It is good quality silver, enough that Burr can feel it from here, a slight wave of heat-cold rubbing against the hair of his skin.

Hamilton’s smirk drops slightly, not all the way. “I can always try finding my proof with this,” The point of the knife twitches, tipping towards Burr’s neck and then away. “But I was hoping it wouldn’t be necessary. It won’t, if you show me.”

Burr keeps his eyes on the blade, and then opens his mouth slowly. When it is halfway open, Burr carefully pulls his lips back and flashes his fangs. Hamilton flinches back, but his grip stays strong and already, he’s crowding forward. “Open more, I want to see,” Hamilton doesn’t bother to disguise his interest, tipping his head down so his eyes are level with Burr’s mouth.

“I’m not a spect-” Burr’s protest is interrupted when Hamilton suddenly releases his hands. Before Burr can blink, fingers are thrust between his teeth, prying his jaw open. Burr gags at the intrusion, tasting salty sweat and bitter ink and blood pumping under skin. Hamilton runs the pad of his finger along one fang, humming with pure, unfiltered interest. He gasps as his finger draws too quick against the sharp tip, drawing the tiniest bead of blood, and the spell is broken.

Burr throws his now-free arms down against Hamilton’s shoulders, not sure if he means to push Hamilton away or pull him closer- the blood is intoxicating, he’d been leaving it too long again- and then silver is burning against the hollow of his throat. “Burr, don’t get carried away,” Hamilton warns, still wearing that Godawful smirk. He’s clearly enjoying the power trip. Burr slowly lowers his arms to his side anyways, tender skin already blistering. “Good boy,” Hamilton praises.

Burr balks, tries to say “don’t call me that”, but the other hand is still in his mouth, jammed far enough back that he can’t bite down properly. The tiny bead of blood drips down Hamilton’s finger and onto the back of Burr’s tongue, slowly rolling down his throat. It tastes like the sun used to feel. Burr shivers. Only because it’s been so long since his last feeding, he convinces himself.

“Now, I have to admit, even knowing I was right,” Hamilton pauses as if to confirm that yes, he’s always right, “It’s still a little overwhelming! All this time, you’ve been a monster of the night?” Hamilton’s question hangs in the air. Burr stares, finally summoning a proper deadpan. With a sheepish chuckle, Hamilton removes his saliva coated fingers. Burr’s tongue automatically follows the cut fingertip, but he forces himself back, cursing inwardly as Hamilton bites his lip to prevent a laugh.

After a careful stretch and settle of the jaw, Burr hinges his fangs again and answers. “Not the whole time. I was turned during the war, after succumbing to illness. I suspect it was done in a bid to save my life.”

Hamilton snorted. “But now you’re undead, no?”

Burr can’t hide his flinch, or his sudden defensive anger. “My heart still beats, my lungs still breath. The only thing that changed is what I need to eat, and what I need to avoid.”

Hamilton hums again, staring shamelessly at Burr’s lips. “I see. Is it true that the sun would kill you instantly? Burn you to ashes?”

“God, no!” Burr bursts, despite himself. “I merely grow weak in the sun. At dawn and dusk, or in very short bursts, I can manage without falling prey, but even if I do, it is only to sleep. I would wake again in the dark.”

Silence fills the air. Burr curses himself for revealing more than necessary- what harm was there in letting Hamilton assume what he wants? “That’s interesting,” Hamilton almost drawls. “It would certainly explain how you’ve gone so long without being caught. Of course, you still were, in the end.”

Burr glares, fear abated. “Indeed.” When Hamilton fails to speak, Burr presses, “And what do you plan to do, now? You can’t keep me up against a wall forever.”

“No, you’re right,” Hamilton sighs, “As fun as it is, I can’t.” Burr bristles at the blatant teasing. “Why, what do you think I should do?”

“I don’t suppose letting me go because I haven’t and do not intend you any harm would be on the books?” Burr snaps.

Hamilton snorts. “That wouldn’t be very responsible of me, as a good, responsible Christian man. After all, you’ve been harming humans all along just to sustain yourself, have you not? How can I trust your word that you won’t turn on me the moment I release you?”

Burr twists his mouth into a scowl “I’m not interested in games, Hamilton. Just do what you came here for, you’ve won.”

“I have, haven’t I?” Hamilton’s eyes light up in glee. His hand shifts up again, finger brushing against Burr’s lips. “I could just keep you, lock you in my house somewhere. You’d never be able to harm anyone again, never risk getting caught. I could take care of you.”

The fear that had faded rushes back again, full force. “Absolutely not!” Burr hisses, popping his fangs in an instinctive act of intimidation.

Rather than be intimidated, Hamilton makes a sound of admiration, not unlike a mother cooing over her small child. “I don’t see why you’re protesting.” He skims a finger under Burr’s fang again, this time deliberately pressing down. The cut is longer, starting to drip almost immediately, scent intoxicating. Burr can’t help himself- his tongue darts out to catch the droplets. “You seem to appreciate my blood enough.”

Burr growls, forcing his instincts back under control. He bites his tongue; Hamilton’s blood drips to the floor. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s been a while.” Burr stares at the dribble down Hamilton’s finger. A while, indeed.

Hamilton laughs aloud at that, pulling his hand away. “Oh, so you mean you don’t want my blood?” He watches Burr like a hawk, as he plucks out a handkerchief with his other hand and moves to wipe the blood.

Burr hisses again, high pitched and animalistic, with his fangs out. He can hardly breathe through the scent. “Well, if you insist,” Hamilton holds his hand out instead. Burr grabs the wrist before Hamilton can change his mind. He pops it back in his mouth, finding the cut finger and immediately sucking. It’s embarrassing and utterly humiliating and Burr can’t help himself.

He closes his eyes to block Hamilton out, concentrating only on the heavenly taste of fresh blood. It’s impossibly sweet, and Burr doesn’t know if that’s unique to Hamilton or if the taste is just better from a willing subject. He doesn’t care, pulling the finger so he can poke a cut just a hint wider. Burr moans at the fresh burst of blood, shamelessly gutteral. Before he realizes it, Burr has both hands on Hamilton’s, lost as sweet, fresh energy flows through his body.

If this was what he got, maybe being kept wouldn’t be so bad, Burr thinks dazedly, and then snaps back to himself. He forces his eyes open, almost throwing the hand from his mouth. Hamilton is staring at him with a look that can only be described as hungry. “Uh,” Burr stutters, flushing.

Hamilton is flushing too, a bright cherry red, far worse than Burr. Still, he manages to act like he has nothing to be ashamed about. “Well, that was, something.” He shakes his head. “I was just going to lead into blackmail. Your support in my political endeavors in exchange for your secret. But, I would certainly be amenable to more of… that.”

Burr’s eyes widen. “I choose the blackmail!”

Hamilton frowns. “Truly? You would never want for anything, and clearly, you enjoy it…” His eyes hood as he licks his lips.

Burr tries not to shudder. “That’s not true, you’ve had me up at knife point and then you drip blood on me when I haven’t fed in days! That’s hardly proof of preference!”

Hamilton smirks wide. Burr realizes that he is tired of seeing the expression. “I haven’t had that knife on you for a while now.”

With a start, Burr glances down. Hamilton’s hands are free- both of them. His eyes snap back up. Hamilton’s smirk is now a playful grin. “Don’t worry, we can still do the blackmail. But the offers open, if you’re ever tired of trying to survive in a world of humans who want to kill you.” And with that, Hamilton steps back.

Burr falls from the wall, legs boneless and unable to hold him. It’s humiliating, but Burr doesn’t care, his nerves caught up to him. Hamilton huffs a short laugh at the sight, then turns to the door. “I’ll see you around, Burr. Seriously,” He fixes one last stare. “I’m sure you’re considering running away, changing your name or something. I’d track you down though. I have the resources.” The threat lay silent between them. If Hamilton has to track him down, he really will keep Burr.

The door closes quietly behind Hamilton’s retreating form. Burr breathes in, and out. The scent of Hamilton’s fresh blood still pervades the room, thick and cloying.

Burr cancels his appointments for the evening. He has thinking to do.



Distance That Took You Away

Kim Seokjin x Reader

Premise: A crumbling long distance relationship is really held up by one thing, you.

Word count/genre: 1630 / angst

SONG: The Distance That Took You Away by SayWeCanFly


Originally posted by saintminyoongi

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Obi-Wan Kenobi - Smile

When you discover growing feelings for the Jedi master, you’re horrified - are you really going to get kicked out of the Order because of pretty blue eyes and nice hair? No. You won’t let it happen, so you avoid Obi-Wan as much as humanly possible. Until he gets fed up with it and corners you in the library, that is…

Words: 2126

Warnings: none (except a possibly lackluster ending, it was late and I wanted this done)

Notes: This was not the next one on the list. Oh well. It was short and fun and easy to write and it’s been done like a million times. Oh well. It got me writing again, right?

Oh no.
Oh, no, no, Force no.
You lean back against the wall in this corridor of the Jedi temple, chewing on your lip. No. No. This can’t be happening. You - you’re a Jedi and Jedi don’t feel these things. Not even for a such a funny, charming, handsome, sweet….
You risk a glance down the hall after him. Oh god. Why the kriff does his hair have to be so stupidly perfect? Why?
You groan out loud. 

“This can not be happening to me,” you grumble. You close your eyes and massage your temples. Maybe some meditation will get your mind off things…

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Cross is clearly a trolldere

Previously on the Crack Adventures of Cross and Nightmare, Cross was being annoying, Horror stole some ice cream but it was later retrieved, it was implied that Error ships Crightmoss, and thanks to some trolling, the ship started to come true.

(Everyone is still extremely out of character. Also, know that this one is a bit more fanfictiony than the previous ones and focuses more on the actual pairing in all its dumbness)

Nightmare: My mental coherency is in shambles.

Killer Sans: (teleports in behind him) LEMME GUESS WHY



Killer Sans: maaan you and Cross were like THERE

(Nightmare throws Killer Sans out of the room and slams the door.)


Killer Sans: (from the other side of the door) but come on man you were talking to yourself I couldn’t help it

Nightmare: GET OUT OF HERE

Killer Sans: ugh fine I guess you need your brooding time anyway

(Killer Sans leaves, and Nightmare immediately begins to pace around the room.)

Nightmare: (thoughts) What’s wrong with me?! Ever since that thing that happened an indeterminate amount of time ago happened I can hardly look at Cross in the eye socket anymore!

Nightmare: I just look at him and I… I…

Nightmare: … I really need to get out of here for a while.

(He teleports away.)


(Horror Sans slowly peeks out from behind a cabinet. He laughs like Bowser from Hotel Mario before cartoonily sneaking out from his hiding spot.)

Horror: There’s no hiding the ice cream from me, Nightmare.

(But suddenly, as he’s creeping out, the door to the room begins to open. Freezing momentarily, he teleports back into his hiding place.)

(The person entering turns out to be Cross.)

Cross: Look Nightmare, I think we really have to talk about–and you’re not here.

(He turns around, sighing as he exits the room.)

(Horror raises an imaginary eyebrow. Did he miss something? Well, it’s not like he cares, anyway. He just wants ice cream.)

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Interlude - Part Five

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

Summary: Bucky takes work at a bakery in Bucharest to make ends meet while he tries to pull himself together. It takes place between the events of The Winter Soldier and Civil War movies in the MCU. Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added.

Word Count: 1,214

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This part contains the full text of a poem titled “no help for that” by Charles Bukowski. It is contained in the collection You Get so Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense. I don’t intend to take credit for his words in any way, and I have tried to make it clear which words belong to Bukowski. I highly recommend that you check out any of his poetry collections.

In the predawn darkness of the city, you made your way toward the bakery with palpable waves of nervous energy thrumming through your body. You started out wanting to arrive as quickly as possible and moving briskly, but a nagging voice in the back of your head that told you that getting there out of breath and looking like it’s Christmas morning would be a little overeager. Listening to the voice, you slowed down to a normal pace.

After all, it was just a kiss. He hadn’t proposed marriage. He hadn’t even asked you on a date. You really needed to rein yourself in, and that is precisely what you were going to do. You were definitely not going to daydream about the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled or the curl that his lips would do in tandem with the crinkle. No, absolutely not. You were one-hundred percent not going to think about how you couldn’t imagine anyone having better lips than he did or how it felt when they moved against yours.

You were a strong, independent woman, and this Bucky was not going to just come into your life and turn you into an emotional mess. What did you really know about him, anyway? He is never exactly forthcoming about the details of his life before working at the bakery, although he also never exactly dodges questions, either.

What if he wasn’t actually from America? What if he just knew several languages and was amazing at picking up impeccable accents? You already knew Romanian wasn’t his first language, yet he spoke it as flawlessly as anyone else you knew. What if he was some sort of spy? He was extremely talented at moving without a sound.

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anonymous asked:

I would love to see something about maybe Reaper with a S/O who loves toys?? Like colorful dolls and animals and whatnot. I feel like that combination will be interesting! Thank you so much!

All the Colors 

You’re pretty handy with a needle, and you weren’t afraid to make that known with each new doll you made. Reaper, despite being far removed from the man once known as Gabriel Reyes, appreciated it and would say nothing whenever you’d return from a mission with two or three new colorful dolls or plush toys that you’ve crafted mid-transit (even if they were hilariously large and hindered your ability to open doors).

The good majority of Talon could say nothing either. Either because they feared your relationship with Reaper, who had made it clear to everyone on more than one occasion that your interests are not an acceptable point of ridicule, or they feared retribution from you, the group’s chief information broker–it’s common knowledge by now that on your word alone, you can essentially determine who lives or dies (like that one guy who tore one of your stuffed dolphins in half, and then mysteriously got sent off to Antarctica to retrieve a highly radioactive material guarded by a group of hostile Omnics without the proper precautions–the end result was not pretty).

Today, it is no different. He and Sombra see you coming down the hall, an armful of colorful, round somethings, the size of volleyballs. You looked like you had some trouble with them. 

“Oi, wha’chu got there?” Sombra gasps, “Are those new?” 

Your eyes light up when you notice them coming, and you sprint to meet them. “Good timing, you two!” 

Both Reaper and Sombra look at each other. Usually, ‘good timing’ in Talon terms mean that something has happened and everything’s going to go to hell, or someone’s about to be in a very uncomfortable position. This time, it is the latter. 

“Could you hold these for me? I’ll be right back. Gotta grab meet with someone.” Without even waiting for an answer, you shove your inventory into Reaper’s arms with a, “Thanks, I love you!”, and tear down the hall, the echoes of your heels fading fast. 

Both Sombra and Reaper look at the items you’ve forced upon them. 

“Oh no,” the hacker hisses excitedly. “They’re cute.”

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Prompt: “reader wakes up on the enterprise and jim falls in love with her ?” - Anon

Word Count: 2,966

Author’s Note: This one got a little out of hand. Also, I dig Awkward!Kirk, apparently. Anyway, please enjoy <3

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Fic Recs: Keith Kogane/Lance McClain (Voltron)

All fics are complete.  This list will be updated when the new season comes out.

As If by surveycorpsjean

Length: 7k / Rating: M / Genre:  drama / Warnings: N/A

Summary:  The five times Lance was his impulse control, and the one time he wasn’t.

Body Electric by mollykaths

Length: 2k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: BDSM

Summary:   “Alright,” Lance announces, determined, like he’s about to take a dive into frozen waters. “I’m gonna do it now. I’m going to ride you. This is it. The time is now.”

Closer by torbjornkin

Length: 16k / Rating: T / Genre:  romance / Warnings: N/A

Summary:  They start out as rivals, but then Keith figures out he has a big ol’ gay crush on Lance and it only escalates from there.

Doki Doki Romanticon by Methoxyethane

Length: 5k / Rating: E / Genre:  PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary:  Keith blinked, looking back at Lance with surprise. “W-wait, so you’ve done this before?”
“You haven’t?!” Lance asked back stupidly.Or, Lance and Keith’s first time goes better than he ever could have hoped, and also holy CRAP how was Keith this cute?!

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