i remembered back when i made all my drawings through mouse

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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Frat Boy Pt. 6

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

This is the longest thing I’ve written on here, EVER.  Not sure if that jumbled it up, but thank you to everyone for sticking around to read about this crazy frat boy, sending me messages and asks and song recs for the playlist!  This chapter’s a bit of a revealing one, and little almost imperceptible layers are chipped away. Let’s see if he’s ruing the day yet, yeah? xx (shout-out to @lovelhes for the bomb mood board, love you bb)

It was 2:54 AM by the time Renny got back.  You knew because the comfort Zayn had brought you dwindled fast with each step you took away from him, so much so that by the time you got to the doors of your building, your legs were shaking from how frantic you were.   It had been much too dark outside, each innocent bush and tall tree beautiful in the daylight suddenly twisting into something sinister, hiding a dark figure just waiting to grab you and slit your throat as you fall to the ground with a soundless shout.  Even in the grossly fluorescent hallways that seemed oddly empty for 1 am, you turned each corner quickly for fear of who’d be waiting on the other side.  Even the shut of the heavy door behind you didn’t give you peace and when you’d swept your room and checked the closet for potential predators hiding behind hanging clothes, you knew you were being silly, so absolutely ridiculously silly. But your furiously beating heart told you otherwise.  

You couldn’t fall asleep after that.  

But you pretended to as Renny got ready for bed, as she quietly tip-toed through the room, the click of her low-lit lamp as she settled under her covers once again coating the room in an inky stillness.  Her little snores comforted you in the slightest, but she wasn’t awake, she couldn’t distract you from your thoughts.  And as your eyes bore up into the ceiling, seeing past it to nothing at all, a hand lay on your throat.  

The stream that ran red, his fists, the snake tat, his touch, their smell, the men, his arms, the safety you felt in them.  It wasn’t fair, none of it was.  That he could make you feel something that felt so right and toss it in the trash like it never happened.  You had been fine with being acquaintances, safe at that distance, pretend that you wouldn’t be affected by him, but then he was the one who had to turn it into something more, to turn you into this.  You remembered your words to him and felt a deep sadness seize your chest.  You were a hypocrite.  The weight building inside you contracted into a choke-hold, threatening to crush your lungs with its deadly mixture of guilt, regret, anger, but you were too tired to release it in a sob.  So it sat there.  Refusing to let you sleep.  Suffocating you.  Silly girl, a voice sneered, All this for a boy you haven’t gone on a date with. The moan of his name in that unfamiliar voice rang loud in your head as an unwanted tear rolled straight down to hit your ear.  You willed yourself to numb your mind, to not think about anything, but when had you ever truly had control?

Sometime, in the early hours of the morning, your lids felt heavy and closed without you ever really knowing, the black cloak of the night sealing them shut as the dark twists and pangs building inside of you pushed you off a ledge, forcing your fall into a fitful sleep.

“Did you have a nightmare last night?”  You cringed as Renny took her black eyeliner and dug a little too hard with the tip against your cheek.  You thought about denying it for a moment, but decided against it.  If there was one person you could talk to, it was Renny.

“How’d you know?”

“You kept groaning and- hold on” - she licked her thumb and rubbed below the line she’d just created for the black #17 now on your cheek, smudging it up and using her nail to dig into the skin and remove the extra bits she’d accidently drawn.  She hadn’t asked to draw Harry’s number on you and for that you were thankful.  Your favorite was Louis anyways - “There, perfect. You just kept muttering something and you looked like you were shaking.  I tried waking you up, but you just turned back around and fell asleep.”

“Sorry for waking you,” you offered her an apologetic smile, but she brushed it off.

“You honestly think I mind?  I mean, I’m a little jealous you got to sleep that much, but I was the one who chose not to leave the party.”  You wanted to let out a single sharp laugh at that, but you were better.  “Paw print?”  She brought the pencil to your other cheek and paused, you nodded.  She started to draw the symbol of your school’s mascot, the panther, and for some reason Harry popped into your mind again.  Agile. Dark. Stealthy.


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Imagine Chris being a supportive fiancé. (Part A)

A/N: Part 5A, ‘cause we gotta have our main go through a bit of an obstacle. You can read the related mini-series and the previous parts here: (Mini-series - Masterlist; Mini-series Spin-off: ‘Unexpected Reader’, ‘Little Ways Away’, and ‘She Said Yes’ - Masterlist; ‘Miss Graduate’: Part 1/Part 2A/2B/2C/Part 3/Part 4)

You hugged your laptop bag to your chest, nervously chewing on the inside of your cheek. You were about to meet with Geoffrey Davis, the head of production at New Line Cinema, to pitch your ideas as well as show him a few of the scripts you’d finished for school. When you told Chris about the materials you were taking with you for the meeting, he asked why you didn’t choose your mini series to pitch. He thought it was perfect to be turned into a television series, or even a movie. He’d read the original- the one you’d kept from Tumblr as you wrote in third person with an actual character rather than a reader insert. He believed it had a lot of potential and didn’t understand why you didn’t want to pitch it, arguing that “fan fiction or not, it’s a great story” when you turned down his suggestion because you didn’t think anyone would want to turn a fan girl’s fantasy into something for the screens.

Chris pulled into the parking lot of the studio’s headquarters and turned to you. You were so nervous and deep in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice his car had stopped, you could only hear all the voices in your head. They were all very mean, convincing you that “it’s not going to happen” and that “you are going to get rejected” and how “they probably won’t even see you.” You reached for your right earlobe and fiddled with your earring, then reached for your clover necklace with the other hand and fiddled with the pendant. These were all things you did when you were nervous, like they were capable of distracting you from your thoughts; they weren’t.

“Hey,” Chris reached over the gearbox and curled his fingers over your wrists, gently pulling them away from your jewelry. “I know you’re nervous, but you just gotta breathe.” He forced your gaze onto him, making obvious breathing movements so you could follow suit. “Okay,” one hand released your wrist to caress your face, “now you are going to be fine. Geoff and I talked, you’ve got a ten o'clock with him and he’s very excited to meet you. All you need to do is walk in there and dazzle him with your talents.”

“Dazzle,” you swallowed with a nod. “I can do dazzle.”

“I know you can,” he smiled, giving your cheek a quick brush with his thumb before returning both hands to his side. “Now I’ve got a meeting myself, so I’ll be back to pick you up. Geoff said he’s giving you an hour, so hopefully my side ends by eleven. If I’m not here when you get out, just text me and hang out at the Starbucks for a little bit.” You nodded, not ready processing what he was telling you because you were trying to focus on your breathing. “You are going to do amazing, baby.” He leaned forward and smacked a loud kiss on the side of your head, successfully drawing a smile from you. “Now go,” he chuckled, reaching over you to open your door. “Get out of my car.”

“Get out of my car?” You simultaneously scoffed and chuckled at the same time. “Is that really how a gentleman talks to his lady?” You asked as you got out, closing the door behind you. “Should really call Lisa to give his smart-ass a whooping,” you mumbled to yourself, smiling.

Chris wound down the window as you walked around to his side, “no, but I know if I don’t kick you out- you’re not going to get out.” He rested his elbow on the window’s ledge, eyes darting to his watch to remind you it was almost ten. “Hop along, little bunny. Hollywood awaits,” he beckoned his head to the entrance behind you. You turned and stared at the entrance, feet unable to move despite how much your brain told them too. “You’re going to nail it,” Chris assured you.

“As hard as you nailed me last night?” You heard yourself murmur the joke under your breath; Chris laughed, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to. “Okay,” you huffed, glancing back at him with a forced smile. “I’m going in, wish me luck.”

“Luck is for the talentless,” he winked and your forced smile became slightly more genuine. “Power couple!” He called out as you walked away from his car, making you chuckle. You held up a hand and wave at him without turning around. “Power couple indeed,” Chris smiled when he saw you disappear behind the doors, then drove off to his own meeting.

• • • • • • • •

The scene inside was incredibly overwhelming, everyone was moving at a pace you knew you’d have trouble keeping up with if you got an internship there. It was at that point that you realized how lucky you were to have someone like Chris. Yes, there would be negative repercussions, but whether or not you used the help he offered- there was going to be hell to pay anyway. This was Hollywood, whether or not you knew people- it was going to be just as hard a climb to the top. If you could have a safety line, or a partner to help you along the way- why wouldn’t you?

You took a deep breath and clutched your bag strap tightly as you made your way to the front desk. “Excuse me,” you politely tried to get the busy receptionist’s attention. “I’m here to see Geoffrey Davis, I believe I have a ten o'clock appointment. I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you introduced yourself with a sweet smile.

Upon disclosing your name, it was like the room slowed. Suddenly, everyone stopped what they were doing and all eyes were on you. You swallowed as the whispers began and the dirty looks came. Suddenly, you remembered why you wouldn’t accept Chris’ help. Suddenly, you knew exactly what you were so afraid of.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” The receptionist practically smirked when she repeated your name. “You have a ten o'clock?” She darted her gleaming gaze from you to her computer, typing something in as she moved her mouse. “Oh yes, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to cancel.” You felt your eyes narrow slightly. “Mr. Davis isn’t in at the moment, he’s currently in New York hearing a pitch from an actual screenwriter.” You suppressed your urge to scoff by pressing your lips together. “Sorry, sweetie.” She faked the sweetest smile at you which induced a fist clench.

“I’m guessing I shouldn’t come back at a later time?” You remained your professional composure, smiling politely as you spoke calmly. You already knew this was going to happen, as much as you wanted to cry or get mad- you couldn’t because you’d prepared yourself. You had to just suck it up and leave like you’d promised you would when it happened.

“No, you shouldn’t.” Her eyes weren’t even on you as she said that, she had returned her focus to whatever she was working on on her computer. The phone rang and she picked it up, waving you off with a hand when she realized you were still standing there. “New Line Cinema, Rebecca speaking. How may I be of assistance?”

You sighed as you turned around, making your way to the exit. You heard the whispers as you walked past, like the knife Rebecca had twisted into your heart wasn’t enough. It was like you were walking through a minefield, each step was another blow sending shattered pieces of your heart and soul sky high.

“Of course Geoffrey wasn’t going to meet with her, why would he waste his time?”

“She thinks that just because she’s Chris Evans’ fiancé, she’s entitled to a meeting.”

“I have no idea what he sees in her, she’s an unemployed twenty-one year old graduate.”

“She’s a child compared to him, not to mention a complete nobody. I don’t know why he’d-”

You got out before you could hear the end of that sentence. You knew being with Chris had its uphill battles, you’d been through quite a bit during your time with him- even when you were just a friend. The paparazzi and the fans- they pounced on you any chance they got, criticizing you whenever you made a mistake. Sometimes you didn’t even have to do anything, you could be squinting at the sun while walking with Chris and they’d come up with a new headline ‘Chris Evans and Y/N Y/L/N’s relationship are on the rocks!’ Then of course, there was the social status and age gap; you were twenty-one and a nobody, and Chris was thirty-eight and a world-famous movie star. It was puzzling for those who didn’t know the relationship, it didn’t make sense. But it didn’t matter what they thought- it hurt hearing it, but it didn’t matter because you and Chris knew why you were together and that was enough.

You had an hour to kill now, an hour to get your story together so you could tell Chris what happened in a way that wouldn’t make him angry at everyone at New Line Cinema. You were probably going to have to lie for that to happen, but you both agreed you’d be honest about things so…This was going to be a bit of a sticky situation for you. You sighed and crossed the road to go sit in the Starbucks and work on your story, as well as have a drink to soothe yourself.

Tags: @chrisevans-imagines @widowsfics @m-a-t-91 @imaginesofdreams  @katiew1973 @winter-tospring @shamvictoria11 @soymikael @faye22 @always-an-evans-addict @heartblackerthancoffee @whenyourealizethisisntagoodname @yourtropegirl @smoothdogsgirl @createdbytinyaddiction @dreamingintheimpalawithdean @rileyloves5 @buckys-shield @catch-me-im-a-falling-star @tabi-toast @ssweet-empowerment @chrixa @feelmyroarrrr @akidura79 @castellandiangelo @edward-lover18 @yourenotrogers @im-a-fandom-slut @royalexperiment256 @palaiasaurus64 @tacohead13 @badassbaker @pegasusdragontiger @sfreeborn @dorisagent101 @aekr @imagine-cats96 @adeptkillsyasse @shliic @justanotherfangurlz @winchesterandpie @creativeheartgemini (I’ve kept the original taglist which I will utilize when I’m back on one shots, but seeing as I’m working on the series now- I’ll just be tagging those I notice follow the series. Let me know if I left you out and I’ll add you back in.)

Part 5B

Chameleon [part 4]

Synopsis: [still in construction]
Requested: not at all
Pairing: Bucky×Reader
Warnings: none so far

Preview: Part 2; Part 3; Masterlist

A/N: I made a masterlist for Chameleon in case you guys need it :)

P.S.: I gotta start working on a synopsis so people will be more interested in reading Chameleon. Am I right?

You were locked in a room where the lights weren’t very strong but still you could see the woman right in front of you. It was small in there, but you didn’t know if it was for the space that was actually just a janitor’s closet or because Natasha’s presence built this huge sexual tension between the two of you.

“I thought you were more professional than this.” you said awarding a rough ‘shh’ from the agent.

“This is the most private room in this tower. Friday can hear us everywhere so if you are trying to keep this conversation safe from Tony, we better make it discreet.” she was speaking dangerously close to your face. 

Natasha dragged you to the janitor’s closet right after you left the gym where you made sure not to transform into anybody else just to avoid any other camera flagrant of you other than the one last time. 

“We could just have gone to a cafe or some-” and once again Natasha interrupted you.

“This is not a date, Y/N.” she thought you were being way too silly. She liked you though.

Before you could even excuse yourself, she had a penetrating look in your eyes, ready to start an interrogatory. Well, you weren’t ready for it, you had no idea what her questions would be about. Of course agent Romanoff would start off asking the basic about your powers, about the things that she had seen yesterday. After that, you couldn’t imagine what way would this conversation take.

You surely wanted to be more accepted, that was the whole point in blending right? But it wasn’t in your plans to in a single shot open up yourself to the Black Widow. This situation made you then think that maybe it was a huge mistake to have copied her DNA during your first training session. But well, it was too late now, Y/N.

Could you organize better your thoughts? You wanted to be accepted but also preserve your privacy. Both could happen but it would be very difficult since everybody had their eyes on you and still didn’t trust you at all. It most probably would get much worse after knowing you could copy their DNAs. Maybe Bruce Banner would just adore you and try using you as an experiment. Stay away from him, was your mental note.

“What did you do to look just like me yesterday? Don’t spare me the details.” Natasha asked going straight to the point. You swallowed the lump in your throat that instantly came back. 

You weren’t scared of Natasha, you were just afraid she would be able to make you talk too much. You had to filter well everything you had to say, you didn’t need anybody knowing what had happened in the past even if it was quite long ago.

“I don’t actually know how it happens but I basically can copy your DNA through the touch.” you explained taking hold of the situation and bettering your posture not to look inferior to Natasha. 

“What about my fighting skills? How did you copy them as well?” she crossed her arms drawing some attention to her cleavage. You kept your eyes on hers and fought not to feel the room too small again.

“I get some information from you too.” you started explaining. “I never had any scientific explanation to how things works, but I can get through your mind somehow. I copy the things people do, their personality… It’s like wearing a costume and being an amazing actress.” you tried to light up the mood. It was getting heavier and heavier, someone needed to do something. 

“You invaded my privacy.” she complained. Natasha started not to like your talents.

“I didn’t go very far.” you went back to explaining. “I don’t break in, I don’t, I don’t- You wouldn’t understand. Nobody ever does. But don’t be afraid, it’s not like I can read your mind and know your secrets…”

Natasha wanted to believe in your words and she had no reason to doubt you. Y/N, you could do amazing things with your power, as well as destroy an entire civilization, but you never did. You wouldn’t ever do. You always had a kind heart, a raw soul, a little bit of love and hope in your life, you were a nice person, full of kindness and virtues, you just didn’t know. And if you yourself, didn’t know how incredible you were as well as were your powers, how could the others see it?

Yes, Professor Xavier knew, also Nick Fury knew. But to have a majority of people knowing who you are, who your heart turns you into, you had to be the essence and not a consequence of the middle. But you were only going to learn that in the future. 

“I think you need to be studied.” Natasha came up with this idea. “To see what you’re really capable of and-”

“What? No. This is not happening. Im not a mouse, Natasha.”

“Bruce wouldn’t treat you like a mouse.”

Bruce? No. Nobody is going to study me. And do you remember what I told you? If they know about my shit, they will hate me. Do you like knowing I can easily copy you? No, you don’t. Now imagine someone like Sam Wilson that already hates me. What about Tony? He would lock me somewhere deep inside under the earth. And-” of course Natasha interrupted you one more time.

“Y/N.” she held your face in her both hands making you look right into her eyes. This was probably the sweetest thing she has ever done to anyone besides kissing Bruce Banner which was another case. “We are a team. Stark can hate you, and Sam too, but they have hearts.”

Yes they have hearts. Well, they were humans after all. And they had no reason to hate you, did they? You were just a stranger, yes, but there was no real reason to write your name down on their black list. They didn’t even give you a chance to be nice to them or to prove that you were an Avenger as Sam doubted.

Avenger. Still two days here and so far you had no good opinion in being an Avenger. You needed something to flip you upside down and make you see things differently, to make you feel like a superhero. But this thing was still yet to come. 

“I know you don’t wanna trust anyone, I felt that myself. Nobody seems reliable. But at least trust me.” she almost smiled to you. She held it back not to be too sweet to you, she had a reputation to conserve. 

You stared into her eyes for long seconds holding your breath before you could answer. You wanted to say no, to keep things the way they were. But her voice echoed in your mind, we are a team. Unable to say anything, you nodded. You nodded because hiding would be too hard, because talking in the janitor’s room wasn’t comfortable, because you wanted to be respected, because you wanted people to understand you at least. Because you wanted Bucky to have more reasons to smile to you…


Natasha opened the door of the closet and took a look to check if anyone was around. Nobody. She stepped out closing the door behind her and a few seconds after you got out too. She was nowhere to be seen. You decided to go to your room and take a shower, prepare yourself for the day.

You never imagined that you would ever see Mr. Bucky Barnes need some help to lubricate his metal arm. It was funny but you behaved yourself in front of him and Stark’s assistant that took care of Bucky’s metal arm. She left the room leaving the two of you alone.

“I didn’t know you needed oil on your arm.” you said creating small talk with Bucky. He smiled. Seemed as he liked doing it, at least to you. 

“I know this is high-tech but sometimes it sounds like opening a door of a haunted house.” he laughed and you did too. 

Bucky sat next to you and noticed how tense you were. He thought it was because of him, he always thought he made people tense. His metal arm is pretty intimidating and being a cyborg as he felt he was, wasn’t very approaching. He didn’t want you to think he was weird, that he was dangerous even though he kinda was. He wanted you to like him, that was one of the reasons he smiled to you whenever he could. 

“Did you have breakfast already?” the man asked but not looking at you. He was still getting rid of the thought of you scared of him, tense because of his presence. 

“No. You?” he denied waving his head.

“Wanna go to this coffee shop around the corner? They have the best black coffee, and fresh croissant every morning.” you were going to say yes but not before remembering Natasha’s line when she said This is not a date, Y/N., when you told her to have your meeting somewhere else, somewhere like a cafe

You didn’t know if coffee shops were a date place only to Natasha, but somewhere deep inside of you, you also wanted it to be to Bucky too. You smiled to the beautiful man next to you and said yes. 

Before you could even get up from the couch, Bruce Banner shows at the door with a concerned look. He was looking for you but also for Natasha that shortly showed up from behind him.

“I think we should have a chat now.” Natasha said and it was the signal for you to discreetly go to Bruce’s lab and talk privately to him. With a exception of Friday that could hear you everywhere but would only release info if someone asked for it which none of you was counting to happen. 

You looked at Bucky that had a confused looked until realizing that something was going on and it seemed pretty important, not to say complicated. He wondered if you were in trouble. Usually when shit would happen, either Bruce or Tony would be the ones to fix the damage. That’s what made Bucky turn back to you and ask:

“Is everything alright?” it sounded concerned the way he talked to you. The soldier really didn’t want you to be in any bad situation, he really had only positive things to wish to you. 

“Yes, everything is fine.” you assured him but he didn’t believe a word you said. He took a better look at you and your tense arms made him wonder if again it was because of him or the sudden appearance of Bruce in the room.

“Are you sure?” he asked again this time annoying Natasha for taking you too long to just get up and follow them. 

You are not a mouse, Y/N. You repeated to yourself. You knew you were not a mouse, you knew you weren’t an experiment, but did they know? In an act of instinct, you held Bucky’s hand and he held it back. Tight enough to make you feel somehow safe. The soldier was holding you for dear life at this moment. 

“Can you come with me?”

The lab was full of things you didn’t know what were their use. You wondered if Bruce would try to use his weird tools on you, you hoped not. Bucky still held your hand and in no way it felt awkward. You needed support and even though you trusted Natasha, you didn’t trust Natasha and Bruce together. You knew well how a bad combination of people could do bad things, life had thought you that. So there you were, the four of you in the lab, doors locked.

“So what is this meeting about?” asked Bruce all shy. You didn’t believe his shyness; he was a scientist, he was probably a lunatic and not a shy guy, thought you.

“Y/N is a mutant.”

“What?” Bucky and Bruce reacted to Natasha’s words equally. It would be funny if the moment wasn’t of tension.

“Y/N?” Bucky called your name wanting to have something from you. An explanation of course.

“She’s right.” your voice was low and inferior to Natasha’s. You started feeling like a mouse already. “You know what, I’m fine with my mutants skills, okay? I don’t even know why I’m here. I don’t need help.”

“I’m sure you need help, Y/N.” Natasha spoke louder than you trying to convince you one more time that you needed Bruce.

“For what?”

“First of all, we need to make sure you are not as destructive as Hulk can be. And if you so, we need to control it. Not offence, Banner.” Nat was spitting out the truth. “I’m afraid of what else you can do but anyhow we also need to know how far you can go.”

The agent held your shoulders and squeezed them but her touch didn’t make Bucky move an inch from you. Always holding your hand and sometimes you would tighten your grip. 

“And last but not least, you need a suit.” just the thought of having a suit disgusted you. 

“Can we be more clear here? What does Y/N exactly do?” asked the scientist. He was just confused as the soldier but the latter was too focused on feeling your touch.

“Yesterday when we were training, I asked Y/N to show me what she knew, and apparently she knows how to copy DNAs.” agent Romanoff still didn’t make it clear to Bruce.

“I turn into other people. I take their DNAs and just… Change. I don’t know. It just happens, it is like-”

“That is… Incredible.” said Bruce with the best impressed facial expression he had. “Can I- Can I see it?”

“I’m not gonna do it again.”

“They need to see it, Y/N.” Nat, for the hundredth time, tried to convince you  to do what she suggested.

“Okay, you don’t have to do it. Not now. But talk more, what else do you do?” the questions Bruce was asking were the same as Natasha’s earlier that day. You had to repeat everything again and it felt unpleasant. What a situation you put yourself into. 

“Bruce, she fought me with my abilities. It was surreal. Y/N not only looked like me but she also acted like me. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“This is the kind of case you find in the X-Men.” Banner spoke and you swallowed dry. 

You didn’t wanna have anything to do with the X-Men. Just hearing this name made you dizzy and see black spots everywhere. This was all a bad idea and to make it worse Bruce Banner was mentioning the largest group of mutants in the country. You had to do something not put yourself in a worse scenery than this exact one. 

“Can’t you check the security cameras?” suggested Nat. 

The three of them were behind Bruce’s computer screen waiting for the exact moment you turned into a version of Natasha Romanoff. You were on the other side of the table waiting for them be done with their entertaining show. A few seconds later the three avengers looked up at you and had priceless expressions. You could have snapped a picture of their faces and save it for future occasions. 

“Y/N, how- how did it happen?” Bucky looked at you and tried not to check you out from up and down a little scared. 

“I just touched Nat and it was enough to clone her.” and you regretted saying this.

Because the second you said it, Bucky instantly looked at his hand, the one he used to hold yours seconds ago before watching the video. He looks up back at you and you could see that he held his hand back, behind the table, somewhere you couldn’t reach. He knew that if you wanted, you had enough time to clone his DNA when you were holding hands anyhow he wanted to preserve himself now that he knew about how you ‘capture information’.

He didn’t want to touch you anymore. Well, he wanted to touch you, yes, but not risk having you cloning him. Did she just do it? The soldier asked himself not wanting you to have already stored his DNA. You couldn’t help but frown from seeing him distancing himself from you.

“Is there a time limit for you to stay in another form?” Banner continued questioning you but you had no mind to answer his questions anymore. You had no will to do anything anymore that day or any other day until Bucky went back to look at you as he did the first day you saw him.

It seemed like he wouldn’t smile to you any time soon. You regretted having him in the lab with you, and regretted talking to the crazy Bruce Banner and psycho Natasha Romanoff. What would you do now that you disappointed the only one that was kind to you?

Bucky decided to leave the room, while Bruce still talked and you didn’t hear him anymore, you had all your senses focused on the soldier that was now passing through the door leaving you behind completely paralyzed, deaf, speechless…

Bucky, wait. Too bad he couldn’t hear your thoughts. 

Next: Part 5

-Pearl Writer

Tags: @mcuimxgine @wantingtobekorra @lovelynerdytraveler (im not being able to tag you)

The Meme and His Tutor

Part 3: The Time The Lesson Was Slightly More Prepared

Recommended Song: Blanket Kick by BTS

|All Chapters|


Now that a weekly session schedule had been agreed on you had time to prepare something. You soon find that things tend to go off course when dealing with the Golden Maknae.

Genre: Fluff, comedy

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 2335

Length: 3/?

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This was requested by French Anon. I decided to add the ever-popular mafia twist to what was supposed to be a very fluffy, sweet story. I also have an idea for a longer story whirling in my head and I feel like this, or something similar, is the perfect budding point for it. I hope everyone enjoy and let me know what they think! Would you like to see this fleshed out?

“What is this?” You turned away from the mirror to see your boyfriend bend down and pick up a folded piece of paper. His slim fingers flipped the card. You returned to fixing your hair. In the reflective glass, you saw a corner of his lips lift into a smirk.

           “‘You are one of the brightest stars to grace the darkness that is this campus.’ Quite the poet your admirer is. Is this even legal?”

           His index finger slid down the edge of the paper. Even though there was a smile on his face and his tone was mocking, you saw a hardness glint in his eyes. The wine glass in his other hand was tipping precariously, and you wanted to say something before he spilled the liquid all over your lush white carpet.

           “Oh stop it. They’re just kids.”

           You reached over to pluck the love letter from him but he held on. A steely look replaced the previous warning one. “I sent you there to be on a mission, not to flirt with little boys.” His voice was low, deeper than it normally was.

           “Yongguk.” This time it was your turn to give him precaution. “You know that I know what my job is, and where my loyalty lies.”

           Gone was the brewing storm and in its place was the charm of a man who knew how to use it. “Of course, my darling. I was just toying with you.” Yongguk placed the glass on the dresser and beckoned you with one finger. You followed his direction, willingly entranced. He closed his legs so you could sit on his lap and he tilted a finger under your chin. “After all, it’s a cat chase mouse world we live in, and these little rats have no idea who’s chasing who.”

           It was moments like this, when Yongguk would utter these ominous threats, that you look past the man you love to see the man everyone else feared. It wasn’t that you didn’t know what he did. Hell, you were in the business yourself, having been trained single-handedly by your father. But knowing the gentle man Yongguk was when he was with you, and then seeing the cold ruthlessness he showed his men sometimes gave you quite an awakening that you were in bed with one of the most dangerous men in Seoul.

           “Penny for your thoughts, love?” Yongguk’s right palm was sliding up and down your thigh but his smile was beaming at you with an open curiosity.

           You bent at the waist to suck at his neck. “I just can’t quite reconcile that this cuddly man wearing a teddy bear sweater is one of the coldblooded leaders behind the city’s underground.”

           His lips furled into a smirk against your shoulder as he allowed you to bite him, a sleeping lion allowing his skilled mate to playfully provoke him. You pulled away to look at him, knowing that he didn’t quite like to be too marked up in front of his subordinates. Yongguk shrugged as he stood up, his hands supporting your bottom, as he shuffled his way to the bed. “I can show you that Mr. Teddy Bear can also be quite a beast in the sheets too.”

           The moment was gone but when you woke up the next day and got ready, it nagged at you. It was Yongguk’s idea, no, command, to send you to the university. The son of his biggest rival was slowly amassing his own group, and it bothered him. You remembered being there at that meeting, right after he had just snarled at a couple of guards for making mistakes, reacting too violently for such a small error.

           His eyes had been wild and hard as he turned around and around, staring at his domain, at his kingdom, at all the things that can threaten to topple at any moment before they settled on you. You were much too used to Yongguk’s ups and his lows but the decision he made afterwards, chilled you.

           “You,” he pointed at you, not gently, but in a do-or-die way. “You’re next for this mission.”

           It was only afterwards, in the peaceful quiet of your room that he was gentle again. “You know you’re the only I trust, baby.” Life with Yongguk was like this. His bark was worse than his bite, to you at least, but his bark still hurt. It was a constant volleying between his ever volatile mood and the favor he so obviously lavished on you.

           A hand dropped on your shoulder and you jolted. It was Yongguk and he was staring at you. “You’re mad at me.” He said the observation matter-of-factly. There was no trace of any emotion to the look he gave you through the mirror.

           It still never failed to amaze you how well he knew you. You turned to look him directly in the eye. “Yes. I wish you would have as much faith in my love for you as you do in my abilities. You sent me on this mission to get closer to him and when it’s working, you drop cryptic comments. Make up your mind.”

           You held a breath. You seldom spoke back to him like this. Yongguk didn’t smile. Instead, he leaned in close so his next words were spoken quietly but clearly. “This little brat thinks he can take my turf, but he sure as hell will not take my woman.” He kissed you hard, biting on your lips and drawing blood before pulling away. “There. Much better.”

           There was a rose on your desk when you walked into the classroom. Your first instinct was to glance up at where the younger man sat, in the middle of the room. But his seat was empty. When you reached to pick it up, a hidden thorn jabbed your finger, causing you to bleed. You let out a wry smile. Your love with Yongguk was like this. Beautiful, until there was pain.

           You tossed the rose into the trash can in time for the students to file in. You dabbed your finger with a tissue and held it closed in your hand. Smiling brightly at the tired faces of the college students, you began. “Welcome to class.”

           After the class was over and everyone filed out, he was the only one who remained. He was young, but not much younger than you were. There was a soft look on his features and you had to fight to remind yourself that this man has had received the same training you did when you were growing up. He was the next to inherit the group who was always at odds with Yongguk. He probably even has had blood on his hands.

           “Daehyun,” you greeted him.

           “You’re bleeding,” he said softly. Of course. Being in this business meant your observational skills had to be above others, and you probably developed an innate sense for blood.

           You had to look up at him; he was significantly taller than you were. “Just a small paper cut.”

           “Let me see,” his voice was enticing, his concern touching.

           “It’s quite alright. I’ll put a band-aid on it.”

           “Let me see,” he repeated, this time a little more forcefully. That was when you were once more jolted back to the reality that yes, he was a university student, but he was still head of a mafia.

           You held out your finger and his eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t look like it was from paper.” Then his gaze fell onto the blood red petal sticking out of your trash. “Ah, I see you have another admirer.” There was a dangerous, possessive look that appeared in his eyes. “Looks like I have competition.” And then he smiled, all charm, and you steeled yourself. “Have a good day, Professor. And don’t let some jerk who doesn’t know how to take care of flowers hurt you anymore.”

           Your eyes followed him out the room. The month that you have been at the university had taught you many things about this man who was a budding threat. Some you expected, but moments like this, when he seemed wiser and more clairvoyant beyond his years, still surprised you.

           When you went home, you made no mention of the rose to Yongguk. There was no doubt in your heart that it was he who had sent it. Your boyfriend said nothing, only giving you a cursory look, allowing his eyes to linger on the nude band-aid that wrapped around your finger. The fact that he said nothing was proof enough. It was done on purpose, a subtle reminder.

           As you were drifting off to sleep, you felt his lips pepper your skin with kisses. “I love you, I hope you know that,” he murmured, and there was nothing but sincerity in his words.

           The next present was two roses. This time, you bent to inspect them and saw nothing. Wordlessly, you placed them in an empty vase and went out to buy more to make them appear to be decorations, and nothing more. You found yourself apprehensively wondering what Daehyun would think. But such thoughts were dangerous, and you felt a wild panic claw at your heart. What was wrong with you? It was just a rough patch with Yongguk, you reassured yourself. Nothing more.

           This time, before he left the classroom, he dropped a box on your desk. Without a word, he just flashed you a heartbreaking smile and walked out. Your hands shook when you opened it. A beautiful necklace peeked out at you. Light hit the crystals in the crescent pendant and you quickly closed it. You couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away, as you should. Instead, you slipped it into your bag. Keeping it at the school was dangerous. Clearly, Yongguk knew a way in or the flowers would not keep appearing on your desk.

           Daehyun approached you one week later. “Do you mind meeting me out by the quad?” His expression was calm but there was something else flickering in his eyes. Was it anticipation? It was right by finals time. Soon, you would no longer be on this mission, no longer be his teacher.

           You agreed, thinking there would be no harm. His full lips broke out into a wide smile. “I’ll see you there at three then.”

           The walk from your office to the quad where students were still milling around was a good ten minutes for you to clear your head and to quiet the raging pulse that was jumping at your throat. This was forbidden. Yongguk would find out. Yongguk would kill you. Yongguk would hate you. Yongguk would-

           “Hello sweetheart.”

           Standing in the middle of the meadow, out in broad daylight, in his teddy bear sweater, was the man himself. Yongguk was holding onto a giant bouquet of roses and in his other hand were soft pink and lavender balloons. Girls walking by was staring at him, clearly enthralled by his looks. Suddenly, all thoughts of Daehyun melted away.

           “What are you doing here?” What you meant was, why was he exposing himself? He knew he had enemies on this campus. And why was he linking you to him, when that had been everything he didn’t want.

           His gummy smile didn’t fade. “I figured I’d come here and announce to the world that you were mine. Is there anything wrong with that?”

           Yes, but seeing him there, openly acknowledging you, made you feel like all those years was worth it. “No,” you whispered. “But it’s still-”

           “No ‘buts’,” he smiled as he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on your lips. His hand went into your bag and pulled out the box Daehyun had given you last week. Your heart was in your throat. Of course he knew.

           But there was no change to the soft expression. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the box onto the grass. From his own pocket, he presented you with a ring. “Marry me?”

           This went against all his principles. He wasn’t supposed to have ties that could hurt him. He especially was not supposed to let the world know. The balloons were drifting into the sky now and Yongguk was down on one knee. The wind blew by and ruffled his hair, creating an even softer look.

           “Yes,” you whispered. Yes because you loved him despite the ups and downs. Yes because even though you knew why he was doing this, you still loved him. Sometimes Yongguk hurt you beyond what was imaginable but you had long given yourself to him. Yongguk grinned and slid the ring on your finger, locking you in.

           The last thing you saw before Yongguk’s lips came over yours was Daehyun, standing behind him with a bouquet of his own, and a completely blank expression on his face.    

The Lies That Cut Deep

Characters: Chris Evans x Reader, Derek Morgan x Reader, Spencer Reid x Reader (friendship), Negan.  Honorable mentions: Penelope Garcia, Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Jennifer (JJ) Jareau

Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of cutting (not self inflicted), betrayal, some sexual like acts

Notes: So yeah this is a doozy but stay with me here. Please leave feedback. Negan is the wonderful, hot, sadistic asshole character from TWD. However there are no zombies or apocalypse. He’s just a killer. Derek is not married in this obviously. This is basically two stories in one. I apologize for any grammar or spelling issues. I wrote this on my phone in an hour and edited it on a laptop where have the keys don’t work or work too well. Sorry this is my first story in months! I hope it’s not too terrible!

Originally posted by cevansnews

Originally posted by spencereid

Originally posted by ifellinlovewithabrokenheart

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anonymous asked:

Can I ask something? I always wonder how is Britney Spears such an icon to queer people. I see a lot of queer people who really love her (nothing wrong, I like her too), but there are other females artist that don't seem to be loved THAT much as Britney. F.e. Xtina had Beautiful mv where she supported a m/m couple but B seems to be loved way more. What do you like the most about Britney? Is her iconicness, the female emporing one feels looking at her? I just finding so interesting!!

I love this ask, and have been sitting on it thinking about it for a few days. I dunno if I’ve come to any conclusive answers, but I do have some thoughts concerning her importance to the LGBTQ community, and why she’s so iconic for us. 

First off, she’s not THE MOST ICONIC diva….I’s say Madonna has that title, and even then Britney ranks below Cher and maybe Gaga, too. There’s also Barbara Streisand and Bette Midler, who are a slightly different crowd but are still considered massive divas/icons to LGBTQ people (mostly gay men). Britney falls somewhere on this spectrum, more queer than her contemporaries (you mentioned Christina for example) but not quite Madonna status. I think at least for a certain generation, however, she was a lot of people’s FIRST diva. I also think her very public break down and remarkable recovery from that break down is relatable and recognizable to queer people…she’s not just an untouchable, unattainable type Diva…she’s a success story, a recovery story, and tragedy turned empowerment narrative. 

I think there’s something about that which appeals to us, because we see ourselves in her, and she simultaneously gives us hope.There’s also something really transgressive about the way her sexuality/sex appeal was presented to us, and transgressive sexuality is another relatable draw for LGBTQ people.  She went from being a cutie on the Mickey Mouse club to a sixteen year old sex symbol, this juxtaposition of midriff and baby-face, coyly chewing on her pencil waiting for the bell to ring. She was dually innocent and sexualized, which is something that’s in some ways, inerrant queer. Queer teenagers are both hyper sexualized (because queerness is seen as dirty and wrong and bad and also deeply sexual/NSFW/adult, so much so queer kids are aged up and robbed of their childhoods in mainstream perception) and also desexualized/sterilized (the “it’s ok if you’re gay as long as you’re not one of those DIRTY gays” narrative, also gay couples in media are allowed to hug but not kiss, meanwhile straight couples on TV can basically fuck, look at Glee’s treatment of Blaine/Kurt and Santana/Britney’s  on screen intimacy vs. any of the straight couples), much in the same way Britney’s teenage sexuality was. I know that’s something I related to and was drawn to her early on…the way she was SO sexy and naughty to me, but also SO young and bubblegum and squeaky clean/socially acceptable to like…it felt like getting away with something, like being in on an adult secret, and it was inextricably connected to my own sexuality/secret feelings. 

Britney is also the zeitgeist of a generation: she went from being the most popular and likable and well-known star of the 90s to being mocked and reviled and considered a joke, GETTING IT ALL BACK and mocking the industry which did that to her, making her the 90s -early 2000s most recognizable symbol of pop culture rebellion. And that, to me, is another thing which feels inherently queer. Pop culture and mainstream media STEAL from gay people, water down our culture while erasing us from it’s history, mock and revile us at the same time they make cheap knock offs of the stye and art and magic we INVENTED. (The same is done to black people, but that’s a different essay).Britney shaped pop, THEN the industry which made her what she was HATED and abandoned her when she broke down, while simultaneously riding on her coat tails, without giving her any credit. That is such a queer struggle, we relate to that, and THEN, to make it even more inspiring, SHE CAME BACK FROM IT!! Britney’s post-2007 records are fucking phenomenal and continue to revolutionize pop music. She’s us! She’s goals!! She gives hope to every queer person and outsider who was ever mocked or disparaged for being different that you can WEAPONIZE the way culture rejects you, and instead shape culture, CHANGE it. 

I’m literally crying as I write this, I love Britney Spears so much???

ANYWAY. The more I think about it the more I think her break down, and the subsequent vulnerability surrounding that and how she was humanized through it, is a big part of why she’s so important to us. It makes her more than just an icon or a diva, but a real life, relatable, practical inspiration and hero. I know I view her as such…she’s my hero because she WORKED SO HARD, she’s not a particularly amazing or talented singer, she’s a girl who was dealt a shit lot and was crippled by her fame and scrutinized and torn apart by the media and she FELL APART AND BUILT HERSELF FROM THAT RUIN AND SAID, IT’S BRITNEY BITCH!!! so when Im wallowing in self pity, I think of her and am like, “you better work, bitch,” to myself. Britney did it, Britney is DOING IT, she did it while she was burning up under the spotlight and raising children. You can do it too. 

Also, it should be noted that Britney Spears is bisexual and was outed by her horrible ex Kevin Federline. It’s been swept under the rug and reduced to tabloid chatter the way everything is, but I lived through it and I remember it. She’s not just an ally or an symbol to the LGBTQ community, she’s a part of it. 

Also, if you need anything else, read this letter she wrote to us. 

Lastly, here are some articles on the subject. 

Thanks for the ask!!! What a fun one. I’m crying at work now lmao. 

so you want to make an amv?

Hello, everyone! As some of you may know, I make amvs or little video edits for BH6 from time to time. While video edits aren’t necessarily the most popular form of creating for this movie (or upcoming show…who knows??), there are still some people out there who might be interested in making videos. This tutorial is mainly for @princess-kidatheart17 but if anyone else is interested in this post, I hope it helped! 

The following tutorial are just the basics to Movie Studio Platinum (a form of Sony Vegas). 

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@bloodybifangirl replied to your post“So like I have actual motivation to write today… But as per usual it…”

Exr for late night talks and “I know you better than I know myself” from the friends to lovers post

( i went with established relationship because it was… necessary… for reasons but I kept to the two prompts)

It’s past midnight when the sound of clacking keys wakes him.

At first he thinks it might be a mouse, and it takes him a few moments to remember how unlikely that is. It’s a few moments more before he recognises the absence of another body in the queen size bed. 

He sighs. Has a very, very brief argument with himself about the fact that he needs to be at work in 6 hours, and then swings his legs out of the bed anyway, padding across the bedroom, out into the hall and towards the strip of light coming from under the study door.

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Yes, Please, and Thank You

{I’m sorry for being gone for 8349800 years because I lost steam over that Pacific Rim fic ;; so I wrote this as an apology <3}

Arthur was a smart man. His mind could analyze all of the data he encountered and automatically classify and integrate it into his mind. Actually, to be precise, Arthur was something like a genius. He followed a methodical pattern that he thought was right. Everything had its own place and its own category. It was easier that way.

He really was a genius. So why was he seated at Alfred’s dining table waiting for that man to grace him with his insufferable presence?

Last time they saw each other there was alcohol involved. Never a good thing. Alfred may not remember but Arthur knew it so clearly. They were always in a cat-and-mouse game of discreetly flirting with each other. But this was beyond a contest to make one fall for the other, though Arthur lost that contest long ago, but this was beyond any boundary they set. He kissed Alfred. It was certainly not delicate. No. Arthur had slanted his lips daringly, passionately, with such semi-drunken intent.

Arthur rarely indulged in humor, but the corner of his mouth turned up slightly when he recalled how Alfred froze and struggled to recollect his composure. There was a sort of trill of satisfaction from the way he felt Alfred’s heart rate speed slightly when their bodies pressed against each other.

But the sudden change in perspective from trying to avoid Alfred and his annoying pestering to seeking it out still came as a mystery to Arthur. He wasn’t supposed to be here. This sort of thing never happened. There was an answer. There always was a clean cut answer. Arthur was here to confront Alfred and properly apologize for any misconduct that night and to make clear that it wasn’t on purpose. Yes. Yes, that’s precisely why he was here.

He knew that was lie.

Three weeks had passed since Arthur kissed him and Alfred brought up nothing about it. Alfred had not interrogated him. He had not humiliated him. Arthur wasn’t even sure if he knew or not. Alfred was just the same as before. He was still loud and uncouth, still unaware of personal space, still smiling all the goddamned time, and still called him “Artie”. Absolutely nothing had changed. Arthur, to be honest, wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or offended. But the apprehension of any sort of response was eating away at him and he needed to put an end to it before it even began.

“Artie,” Alfred greeted cheerfully, bursting through the doors and pulling Arthur away from his thoughts, “Sorry for being late. I forgot that I invited you.” He paused for a moment and waited for a response. Arthur didn’t take the bait so he continued, “But I guess you already made yourself comfortable.” Alfred dropped his coat on the sofa before attending to his house guest, “It’s been a while since we’ve talked, huh? You were really wild three weeks ago. You should probably take a break from drinking-.”

“This is about that night.” Alfred sighed wearily and stood, massaging the bridge of his nose, “I’ve come to apologize for my… inappropriate behavior several weeks ago. I’m not even sure if you remember but… I’ve been unsuccessful at putting it from my mind.”

A breath’s length passed.

“I.. remember,” Alfred said quietly shifting his gaze down seemingly as quickly as Arthur’s sinking heart. “I know what you’re talking about. It was… different.”

“I see,” Arthur swallowed. This was a mistake. What was his plan if Alfred did remember? Was he going to have to confess his romantic fantasies to him? No, that was a bad plan. “I apologize but… if you remembered, why didn’t you say anything? I expected… something.”

Alfred tilted his head and looked up at Arthur but he wasn’t staring at his eyes, rather, his mouth, “I get why you’d be worried about me doing something probably stupid but I hadn’t really thought about it. Believe it or not, Artie, you don’t control me.”

Alfred still spoke with the same jovial lilt but his eyes and his words told a different story. Arthur felt like it was hard to breathe. He didn’t want to start another argument with him like the spat they had years ago. “Never mind then. I see I’ve wasted both our time.”

Calloused fingers closed around his wrist as he stepped towards the door, “But now that you’re mentioning it, I probably should do something to get back at you, huh?” His voice softened with an unmistakable deviltry edging its way into his words.

“What?” Arthur looked back at him, the word sounding harsher than intended. He tried to ignore the unexpected brush of Alfred’s thumb on his wrist, drawing affectionately teasing circles. “What do you want?”

“It’d be fun to do what you did to me.”

Arthur’s face flushed despite his vain efforts to quiet his heart rate, “Absolutely not. That’s impossible.” He jerked his hand away and felt betrayed by the traces of disappointment that flared in the pit of his stomach.

“But you wanted me to do something, right?” Alfred raised an eyebrow, his eyes filled with mirth and mischief. “That’s why you’re here, right? I might as well.”

Arthur swallowed slowly as his eyes dropped down to Alfred’s lips before wrenching himself away. “Fine. But I want your hands where I can see them. I don’t want you getting any funny ideas.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t dream of putting my hands on someone as important as you in such a rude way. You’re the one who taught me how to be a gentleman, after all.” Alfred laughed at the memories. He lifted his hands up to display them to Arthur before lightly settling them on Arthur’s hips and walking him backwards towards the living room.

“Alfred-.” his voice wavered with concealed desire and warning.

“Where you can see them.” Alfred murmured as Arthur’s back came into contact with the wall.

They were so close. Arthur was afraid Alfred could hear his heart beating out of his chest. He could smell the hint of cologne Alfred got for Christmas and the light, sharp scent of sweat. Alfred’s eyes glimmered with delight. Alfred gradually closed the distance between them, causing Arthur to warily settle his hands low on his chest.

Arthur stiffened at contact, shoulders rising tensely and refusing to look at Alfred’s eyes for more than a second. Alfred leaned past him and whispered, “Relax.” A small laugh sent a shiver down Arthur’s spine with the soft rush of air tingling across his suddenly flushed skin. Softer lips trailed down Arthur’s neck, “I don’t bite, Artie.” But just as he said that, he took the lobe of Arthur’s ear in his teeth and nipped at it once. “Not a lot, anyway.”

Arthur gasped involuntarily, blood rushing in his ears and a blush working its way along his skin. Since when did Alfred learn how to be that provocative? It was getting hot. He managed, somehow, to retain a bit of composure. “Our deal was for a-.”

“A kiss. Yeah, I know.” Alfred pulled away and trained his gaze on him, indulging himself in the view of the pink spreading across Arthur’s cheeks. “Sorry. I couldn’t help it. You’re so… cute.” The playfulness from his voice was gone. Instead, there was hunger. Arthur knew that emotions were hard to categorize but he knew it instantly.

“Just get it over with,” he countered crossly, aware that thing had spiraled out of control. The sooner they did this, the sooner he left and he could try to forget that this whole intimate ordeal happened.

Alfred claimed all but a few millimeters of space between them and stilled, seemingly deciding whether or not to collect his due. The ghost of the taste of his mouth was on Arthur’s tongue. Unthinkingly, or perhaps overthinking, Arthur leaned in without any further prompting. Their lips brushed just barely before Alfred smiled, “Checkmate.” Alfred withdrew, beaming victoriously as if this was… It was a game.

Fury flooded Arthur’s vision. He was furious equally with himself for the moment of weakness and Alfred for treating this unbelievably serious matter as a game that would undoubtedly serve as fodder for teasing. “You…” he grit his teeth before smacking Alfred’s hands away, “I know you hate to lose, you inconsiderate, spoiled little child, but even I can’t believe that you would even think that this-.”

Alfred’s grin disappeared after Arthur’s voice broke.

Good. He should feel bad.

Arthur collected his things in silence, feeling Alfred’s gaze on him. This was tiresome. No more games. A hand closed around his wrist for what felt like the thousandth time. “Let me go, Alfred. We’re finished here.” He was finished. This was too much to handle. Alfred won his game and Arthur felt like if he stayed any longer, the feelings he had buried would resurface.

I’m not finished, Artie.” Alfred slipped his arms around him and pulled him closer. “I’m sorry.” Arthur opened his mouth in protest, an artillery of curses waiting to unleash upon him, only for them to be crushed against determined and pleading lips. He struggled and thought about kneeing Alfred in the groin but the thought dissipated when his hands slipped under his shirt and started to explore the curve of his back. Arthur subconsciously leaned into that touch despite it all. It was over anyway. Alfred murmured, his fingers feeling like fire against Arthur’s back, “Stay.”


Alfred licked Arthur’s lips, clearly hoping to coax them open again but remained unsuccessful. “Stay,” he repeated, his voice mixed with apology and such lust. Arthur wasn’t susceptible to such sweet words or pretty poisons.

“No. I’m done playing this game.”

“I’m not playing.” His lips settled against Arthur’s mouth, no longer bent with a playful grin or quirked with wryness. “I’m asking you,” Alfred breathed, slipping his fingers through Arthur’s hair. “Will you spend the night with me, Arthur?”

He said Arthur. Not ‘Artie’ or ‘eyebrows’. No sarcastic politeness, no pretentious and careless remarks. No blatant avoidance or fake obnoxious laughter. It was just Arthur. He was talking to him. And if having Alfred whisper his name like that… if that wasn’t enough to effect his surrender then no amount of temptation would.

So Arthur stayed.

Q////////Q WOW!! I LOVE THIS!!! i’ve been re-reading this ever since this was submitted to me, so thank you so so so much!! i love ittttttt ;;///////;; <333

Pillow Talk

It was the sharply exhaled swear word that awoke her. Bulma shifted under the mountain of cream colored downy comforters, turning to face Vegeta (who had stubbed his big toe on the corner of the dresser) with bleary-eyes. It was three in the morning she foggily registered. And as she slowly became more awake the more miffed she got. Why had her husband had come in so late?

“And where have you been?” She asked, sleep still thick in her voice.

Vegeta just grunted, choosing to ignore her as he shimmied out of his training clothes.

Normally, Bulma would have enjoyed her muscle-clad brooding husband getting naked, but after being awoken so suddenly it just left her angry. “Humph. Have a nice time? Good to know you’d rather be lifting heavy things by yourself than spending time with your wife.” She tried again, this time letting her irritation get the better of her. Still, Vegeta didn’t respond. He just shuffled off to the bathroom, closing the door behind him and then turned on the light.

Huffing, Bulma flopped onto her back, arms crossed over her chest. The gentle whoosh of the shower started behind the bathroom door followed by the smell of his shampoo. ‘It smells good,’ she thought. He had hated every single one she’d ever bought him, so she’d just made her own in the lab. It was earthy smelling, funnily enough: crisp like a winter wind, smokey like a fire and herbal like peppermint. She’d just left it in the shower one day, and when he came out wearing that scent around him like a cloud she’d just about buckled over from joy among other things. He never mentioned it, but the fact he washed with it everyday let her know how much he liked it.

The water ebbed and Bulma could hear him moving around the bathroom; The clink of his toothbrush, the opening and closing of a drawer, the crack of his neck as he rolled it. Each sound so familiar to her now. It had taken her a long time to convince him to share a bed with her, in fact he’d only started sleeping in it regularly after they’d gotten married. She’d questioned him about it once, and found his answer surprisingly old fashioned,

“Only a husband and wife share a bed.”

Never mind the fact Trunks had already been born. But Bulma could appreciate the sentiment.

The light in the bathroom clicked off, and Vegeta stepped naked into the dark room. Bulma watched his silhouetted form make its way to the bed, lifting the covers and crawling into bed beside her. He smelled wonderful, his body still slightly damp from the shower. He was dead still, and probably could have passed for asleep if Bulma didn’t know him better. She slid down further under the covers, turning on her side to face him, “Hey.” She whispered.

He grunted.

“Why’re you being so quiet?” She prodded.

Vegeta sighed, “I was trying to be respectful and let you sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Bulma blinked. Wait. Her Vegeta was…being thoughtful?

He shifted, hand finding her bare hip under the copious amounts of blankets she slept under and squeezed lightly, “Go back to sleep. God knows you need every minute of beauty rest you can get.”

“Oh, har har very funny.”

Vegeta chuckled and she could practically feel his smirk.

“Seriously though,” she whispered, snuggling closer to him, “why are you still awake? You never train this late.” There was a long pause, and Bulma rolled her eyes, “forget it.” She huffed, starting to roll away onto her other side.

His fingers tightened on her hip and she stopped moving, “I was…thinking.” He said slowly, cautiously.

Bulma felt her heart began to pound. Vegeta was actually trying to communicate? What the hell was going on? Old fears of him leaving began to rise, why else would he be so willing to talk? Why wasn’t he talking anymore?! Why was his pause so long?!

“…you’re sweating.” Vegeta grumbled, removing his hand from her and making a point to wipe it on the sheets.

“You’re making me nervous!” She hissed, “I have no idea what is going on in that Saiyan brain of yours!”

“Woman would you shut up?! I’m TRYING here.”

Bulma snapped her mouth closed, trying to keep the insults she had ready to escape contained. Vegeta sighed, his fingers finding her ribs now, brushing against her again, “I’ve just had a lot on my mind. Training helps me think. I…needed to work some thoughts out.”

BA-BOOM went her heart, “Uh-huh…” she breathed.

Vegeta shifted, his strong arm drawing her closer against him.




He sighed, “I…don’t know quite how to say it…”

Something hot began building behind Bulma’s tightly closed eyelids, ‘Don’t cry!’ Her mind screamed, ‘Don’t show him weakness! You can do this without him-’

“…I want to have another child.”


Her heart stopped. Palpitated. Stopped again. And then took a nose dive straight into her lower intestine.

Vegeta huffed with irritation, “Well?”

Normally Bulma was a quick thinker, a genius of not only creating marvelous inventions, cracking codes and physics, but she was also pretty quick with a one liner for her surly alien husband. For some reason though, the connections in her brain were not functioning. The only thing she could manage to respond with was, “Guh?!”

“Tch.” Vegeta clicked his tongue then rolled onto his back and crossed his arms, shutting himself out from her, “Forget it.”

Bulma quickly sat up, staring bewildered down at him, “Who are you and what have you done with Vegeta?”

“Hmph.” Though the room was dark she could still see the hot blush across his cheeks, “Nevermind.”

“No no no!” She insisted, clambering on top of him now much to his irritation, “Say it again.”


“Vegeta,” Bulma said softly, her small hands framing his face. He stiffened, but didn’t try to move away so she figured that was a good sign, “look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings-”

“You didn’t hurt anything.” He snapped, but his tone reflected otherwise.

“Mmmhmmm,” a smirk played on Bulma’s lips, “of course. My mistake.”

Vegeta averted his eyes, “Whatever. Forget it.”

“No,” she said, fingers now tracing one of his thick black eyebrows, “don’t you think I’m to old for another baby?”

“Well, you’re old that’s for sure.”


Obsidian eyes slid finally slid back over to met her hot gaze, and Vegeta smirked.

Ugh. He was teasing her Bulma realized. Trying to change the subject. Avoidance thy name is Vegeta. “Listen here bucko,” she poked him on the chest, “I’ve already had the pleasure of pushing out one of your babies and let me tell you it was no picnic! And where were you for that? Out traversing the galaxy training. Like always! If you think I’m going to do that alone again you’re mistaken! And I think I look damn good now, you should be happy to have a wife that still looks this young after giving birth-”

“I know.”

His quiet reply caught her off guard. Vegetas’ arms finally uncrossed themselves, large hands gripping her hips, almost painfully as if making a point, “I… was a terrible father. And husband. I’m not a good person Bulma.”

Bulma was effectively rendered speechless, and even more so when he continued, “As leader of my people it is essential that I do what is best for their wellbeing. As I no longer have a planet to rule, that is you and Trunks. But…” her husband faltered, dark eyes closing, “I want to make sure that my legacy will live on… my peoples legacy.”

Sighing, Bulma laid down on top of him, her nose buried in the crook where his neck met shoulder, “Vegeta, babies aren’t just about procreation. You have to like, take care of them you know. They’re hard work.”


“Plus, it’ll take time away from your training, and my work. I’m running the company now, you know that. And Trunks would be so much older. It’s kind of unfair for him don’t you think?”


Bulma sighed, “I just don’t think it’s a good-”

“Is it that you don’t want another child with me?”

Startled, Bulma raised her head. He was staring at her, eyes hard. “Wha-what? Vegeta no!” She insisted, “you’re taking this way out of context.”

His eyes narrowed, “If you don’t want another child by me then tell me.”

Bulma groaned, dropping her head down onto his chest, “Oh my God this is not happening.”

“You’re my Queen,” he said softly. This caught her attention. Raising her head back up she caught him looking at the ceiling, expression unreadable, “you’re the only one I would even wish to have children with.”

She waited for the punchline, the quip, the insult.

It never came.

The silence between them grew, became heavier with each beat of her heart.

“You mean it?” Bulma whispered, hot tears stinging her eyes.

Still silent, Vegeta gave a gentle squeeze on her hip.

Sniffling now, Bulma kissed his cheek. This earned her a wary grunt, but he didn’t push her away. “So, I’m your queen?” She teased, wiggling her pelvis suggestively against his groin.

“That’s what I said, right?” He grumbled, “that’s what you agreed to when you made me go through that horrendous ceremony.”

“Hmm,” she hummed against his throat, pleased when she felt his cock begin to harden against her, “as your queen, you have to do what I say right?”

“Hardly. As the King, I have ultimate say.”

“Well, in some countries women outrank the men.” She said airily, fingers traveling down his bare abdomen and taking hold of his now very erect member.

Vegeta hissed through his teeth, “Not in this house.”

“This is MY house remember,” she whispered in his ear, “that makes me the boss.”

Vegeta grunted, thrusting himself through her loosely gripped fingers, “You wish.”

Bulma raised herself back up to straddle him, eyes drinking in the naked Saiyan below her. He was a fine specimen, all hard muscle and power. But now she saw something else that had only recently began to bubble unwillingly to the surface; humanity.

True, he was her husband and the father of their child. But until the last few years he’d pretty much ignored the two of them. His words and actions now however spoke something different. The change had been slow, but now he seemed almost content to spend time with her and Trunks, despite the grumbling and sometimes hostile nature he displayed he would almost always give in to her or their sons demands. Bulma took this as a way in which he had avoided arguments, but maybe it meant something different after all.

The corner of Vegetas lips pulled up into a predatory grin as she stared down at him, “See something you like?”

Despite her initial reaction to quip back, she gave him a tender smile, “Yeah, I do.”

His smirk slowly melted away, a blush starting in its place, “Wha-woman why are you staring at me like that?”

“Let’s do it.”

“Well, obviously-”

“No Vegeta,” she leaned down, touched her lips against his and whispered against his mouth, “let’s have a baby.”

His reaction was immediate. He flipped her over, arms trapping her beneath him, eyes piercing into hers, “Do you mean it? Don’t lie.”

Bulma smiled again, then raised her nightshirt over her head, “Are you just going to tease me or are you going to fuck me?”

Vegetas smirk grew wider, “I’ll have you begging my Queen.” His lips were on hers then, fingers ripping off the panties she had on. She was vaguely aware that she liked that pair, but what his hands were doing to her now quickly made her forget why she even bothered wearing them in the first place.



I have NO clue where this came from. But I like it. Should I add more?! Decisions!!!!

Midnight Escape


Relationship: Keith x Allura 

Warnings: None. Maybe a small bit of angst but mostly this is just really deep and romantic fluff :)

Summary: Allura has been very busy with diplomatic relations and trying to find allies for the coalition, and Keith has been busy with his Marmora training. Lately, they find they’ve been missing each other’s company, but neither of them realizes just how much they really care about each other. But maybe after a rebellious adventure of sneaking out of the castle past curfew on Keith’s bike….those feelings will escape ❤️

A/N: My first Kallura fic and Voltron fic in general! Whoo hoo! I hope you all enjoy! I have a few other ideas as well and I will be taking requests for other Kallura or Klance fics! Feedback on this would be very much appreciated so I know you guys like my writing! 

“How many diplomats are we meeting with today Coran?” Allura asks as they walk down the hall of the castle to the dining hall where the leaders of some planets were waiting to discuss possibly joining the coalition. 

“Only three today. But tomorrow you are meeting with ten.” Coran says and Allura’s eyes widened. 

“Ten!” She exclaims. “Coran that’s far too many! I-I don’t think I can handle-” 

“Yes you can.” Coran says. “I have faith in you.” He opens up the doors and the meeting with the three that were there today begins. 

Keith was exhausted when he returned from the blades. The frequency of the missions had been slowing down lately so they let him go back to Voltron. As if he didn’t already have enough stress with being the leader of Voltron, now he was trying to balance that with his Marmora training! He thought things would be easier with Shiro back but…now it seemed like it only made things worse. He felt like he was being pulled apart by two different forces. As he took off his jacket and collapsed on the bed in his room he let out a loud sigh of relief and closed his eyes, his bangs covering them a bit and tickling his forehead. 

He relished in these peaceful moments. It was moments like these where he didn’t have to think too much. There wasn’t anything to be scared about, no need to worry. A few ticks when the future could be forgotten, all of the uncertainty and fear gone. Keith couldn’t remember a time when he felt like this. Then suddenly he started to. He thought about his past and remembered how he used to have moments like these when he rode around the desert on his old bike. His bike…He hadn’t thought about it in awhile. He was upset at first after he joined Voltron and realized he had left his bike on Earth and might not see it for some time. He had worked so hard to build that thing and now he would probably never get to use it again! But then he remembered something…He had another bike on the castle. The lions came with them. Red was the fastest lion so he obviously assumed that bike would be the fastest but he hadn’t gotten a chance to test out Black’s yet… He smiled and got up and made his way down to the hangar. 

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Prompts are open. I watch way too many of these kind of videos so I was all over this. In my brain John is like a less sweet-as-sugar Markiplier, and Dirk is almost certainly a Ray-style fan-fave Twitch gamer. (John playing horror games with the Ghostbusters music as his outro is my new aesthetic.)

For whatever it’s worth, you were very drunk during the stream.

Honestly, you aren’t even sure how you remembered to upload it, but there it is, with a much larger number of views than you expected, and twice as many comments as normal.

Okay, well. At least the traces of your inebriation are all over the title, and the description, if you can even call the jumble of words down there descriptive.

You squint, sipping your coffee, dreading what you did wrong, other than your abuse of the English language. Bad things are what usually what gets the comments- your mistakes, the moments you slip up and say something offensive in the wrong ways, the times you mention something you didn’t know was as big a deal as it is.

You glance at the comments with trepidation.

Oh no.

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Pull of the Moon (14)

Pairing: Ivar x Isabella

Word Count: 2343

Warnings: None

AN: THE END! Please let me know what you thought.

Originally posted by ivartheheathen

The light snow landed gently on Isabella’s hat as she stood on Tottenham Court Road, peering in the window of Bilbrew’s Bookshop. Through the glass, she could see her former boss patiently teaching the new clerk her position.

“She’ll do well,” Ivar said, tucking Isabella’s gloved hand in his elbow. “It was thoughtful of you to recommend her for the situation.” With a smile, Isabella looked up at him.

“Nettie seems so much happier now. Even after everything she’s been through. She isn’t afraid, the way she used to be. Now that the Gresse Street killer is gone, none of the women in the neighborhood are afraid.”

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anonymous asked:

Supercat prompt? Kara catches a drunk Cat who's fallen off her balcony

She stretched her arms above her head and let out a long breath, she stared at the screen in front of her and the words that were typed in perfect rows. It had taken her longer than she had intended to write the article, but she couldn’t just stop being a superhero just to finish one article. Then again, she felt more human, more normal, when she was confined in an office typing away with the steady hum of the office buzzing around her.

Kara pressed the send button, determined to get the article in before the deadline. She clicked it again, unsure as to why the document would not send to the editing department. Kara grew frustrated and rapidly hit her mouse pad, willing it to submit. She flung herself into her chair, effectively pushing it into the wall. The chair creaked under the force and Kara moaned as her head hit the wall behind her.

Her head was pounding and her body was filled with fatigue, Kara rubbed her eyes and let a small yawn pass her lips. She stood slowly, running options through her mind on how she could submit the article on time and still be able to do her nightly rounds. Kara grabbed her laptop and walked out of her office and into the main area of the floor. She tried logging into a couple different computers but they were all user locked.

Kara walked out onto the floor’s balcony in an attempt to clear her mind. Her hands traced the cool metal of the railing and the wind was barely blowing but it still washed the sounds of the city over the buildings. As much as she might miss Midvale, nothing would ever compete with her city; the city of her favorite sounds, food, lights, and people. Kara loved her family that she made in National City and could not think of a life without them.

“Go home Kara, you shouldn’t be here. Leave. Go anywhere but here.” Kara turned to face the all too familiar voice. A smile started playing at the corners of her mouth as she saw Cat Grant leaning over the side of the balcony like it was where she belonged.

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Owned By A Ghost, Chapter 29

TITLE: Owned By A Ghost


AUTHOR: fanficshiddles

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you are drawn to an old house on top of a hill. You often go there to sit and draw as the mansion intrigues you. But you never go past the gates…


‘Where are you going?’ Loki asked as he walked in on Tracey putting on her jacket one day.

‘I’m going to go visit Granddad. It’s been over two weeks now and I just have to see him to make sure he is settling in ok. There’s a bus in ten minutes to the city. And I will be back by five.’ She smiled and walked over to kiss Loki, who just stood there.

‘Are you sure it’s a good idea?’ Loki asked as he followed her downstairs.

‘I’m sure. Even if I don’t get to speak to him, I just want to make sure he is settling in ok.’ Tracey said, determined to go.

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For the Coffee - Jon Risinger x Reader

Name: For the Coffee
Pairing: Jon Risinger x Reader
Summary: Jon forces the Reader to take some time off to relax.
Rating: T
Word Count: 1421
Triggers: Alcohol.

Your morning begins with the ungodly caterwaul of your alarm clock. You briefly wonder why even Satan would put such an infernal device on this planet, but decide not to dwell on it for too long. You try to ignore the fact that it’s 4:00 AM and entirely too cold outside for a Texas February and drag yourself out of the safe haven of your bed. The chill of the air assaults you as you trudge to the shower, sending shocks of cold up your spine.

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having abusive sibling(s) things
  • the “That’s how siblings act” mentality
  • I’m constantly told that everything I’ve dealt with was, in fact, not abuse
  • no one blinks twice at some of the stuff that happens
  • everyone would laugh and say that that’s how siblings are
  • the accusations of being a tattle tale
  • No matter how much I tried to speak out, it was shut down
  • the expectation of being willing to do anything for your siblings !!!!!
  • when you’re sharing a room ://////
  • You learn to sleep in weird places (I used to sleep under the sink, in the basement, under the back porch, and on the couch)
  • And the days you can’t sleep outside of the room for whatever reason you spend the whole evening worrying about what they’ll do to you while you’re trapped in the same room
  • The nights they’re silent are almost worse that when they do something bc you’re constantly waiting for something
  • the sibling could be the favorite meaning you won’t ever be able to defend yourself 
  • The Choice: Either you defend yourself, and get in trouble and are forced to apologize to your abuser, or you just hunker down, try not to whimper, and wait for it all to be over
  • no privacy, no matter what you’re doing 
  • You can’t do anything at all without paranoia. if you share a room with them they’ll always be going through your stuff.
  • You constantly worry about what they might be telling any other siblings

these were sent in by the lovely @superwaywardangel ! thank you!!

and then we have a personal narrative sent in by an anon (under the cut)! thanks!!

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