jet streak

Slippery (Grayson)

⚤ - CONTAINS SMUT

You laid back on your bed, the one you shared with your boyfriend, Grayson, and closed your eyes. It had been the longest day and you thought your work day would never come to an end. You had spent majority of your shift running errands for your snobby boss, even as far as grabbing her coffee. It was a job which you had sworn you had too much pride for but recently moving to L.A. you took whatever you could get. Needless to say you were absolutely exhausted. You thought the only way to ease your mind was to take a calm, relaxing, and steamy shower. Something you did when you were stressed and overwhelmed, much like today. Grayson wasn’t expected to be home from the warehouse for another hour or so and you contemplated waiting to shower with him but the grime you were starting to feel on your skin said otherwise.

You grabbed a towel out of the linen closet, silently cursing Grayson for the mountains of clothes you had to step over just to reach it. Living with an eighteen year old, well two eighteen year old boys, was not easy but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You didn’t regret dropping everything to live there, not even for a second. 

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scoundrels-in-love  asked:

Consider this, Mike continues to binge growth spurt, while El doesn't (not yet anyway). Aka prompt “You’re so small, it’s adorable.”

Déjà Vu

From prompt #23 — “You’re so small, it’s adorable.”

“Dé-. Déjà… vu?” Eleven asked in a whispery voice, and Mike inwardly swore he could listen to her talk forever. Every word that fell from her supple lips sounded just like honey and filled his veins with cinnamon and sugar.

The two were standing in the dimly lit basement bathroom, Mike with a sopping wet washcloth in his hand as he had been trying to wipe off the remnants of the makeup Eleven had earlier played with in Nancy’s bedroom. Despite having streaks of jet black mascara in her eyebrows and blotches of foundation several shades too light all over her temples, Mike thought she looked pretty as ever.

“Yeah! Déjà vu. It’s-. It’s like… it’s like when you do something you’ve done before, and-. And, you know, all of those old feelings hit you. You feel just like you did the first time it happened,” Mike explained best he could, bending his wrist as he gently pressed the washcloth to the glitter at the crease of her eyelid.

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Little One - Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Originally posted by namelessmasha

Words: 1891
Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader
Warnings: fighting?
Requested by anon.
Could you write one where the reader is the youngest of the avengers, so they treat the reader like their baby sibling. They get especially protective when Pietro pops up and starts showing interest in the reader ??
A/n: I really love this request, just, it’d be so cool. Honestly though, just protective Tony and Thor, I love it.


You were sitting on your bed reading your favorite book, minding your own business. Nothing was really going on that involved your help. You’re sure that there was probably some meeting going on in the facility, you just weren’t needed. So you had time to yourself, like you do everyday.

Sometimes you don’t get told when part of the team is going on a mission. They sometimes don’t want you to go out in fear that you’ll be hurt. Which you always reply with “Have you even seen my abilities?” And you usually get the reply of “You’ve barely even grown into them!”

One of the biggest cons of being the youngest- at merely almost twenty years old.

From time to time, being the youngest of the avengers- at nineteen- really rocked. You got what you wanted and were able to do whatever the hell you felt like. You were treated as the little sibling everyone loved and it was hard to get mad at you- even if you did cause trouble from time to time. But sometimes, it really sucked. You’d be called the ‘little one’ even though, you were turning twenty in less than a month. But no matter how old you are, you’ll always be the youngest of the group.

You were brought out of your daydreams when you heard someone outside of your room. “What is in there?” Was heard. What a weird accent.

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Burning (Peter Parker x Reader) Hogwarts AU

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Part five of the Improper series

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: Another thing you learn at Hogwarts is that smoke is never good, Peter was standing a little too close to you, and you never know who to trust, and no one is safe.

Warnings: Umm… swearing. Wizard racism? Oh, and Peter being a hot little bitch. Yup. 

Words: 3,477

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You sat alone on the fur rug in the empty Gryffindor common room, watching the flames in the fireplace flicker and steadily die down, almost melting into the scorched wood. All the others had gone to bed but you stayed, not bothering to check the time as it passed. Today was the end of the first week at Hogwarts, now your fifth year and today you had yet another fight with Peter. It was, as always over something stupid, but that didn’t stop you and him from arguing. The fight was over an article that the Daily Prophet published about spies in Hogwarts and the argument would have gone on for hours if Professor Binns hadn’t forced you two out of the classroom, raising his voice to tell you class was over twenty minutes ago. You had yelled that Peter was wrong. There were no spies in Hogwarts and the Prophet was only doing it to stir up tension. Like we don’t have enough of that already. You think bitterly. 

The last flame was blown out by a gust of wind from the open window, grey smoke rising from the fireplace. Peter’s angry face was stuck in your brain no matter how hard you tried to get rid of it. It wasn’t my fault. You think stubbornly. He was the one who kept talking. He provoked me! Your eyes stung, growing watery and you blinked twice to clear them. Wait, I almost never cry. What…

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bfketh  asked:

Ereri - 72. “I will knock you on your ass if you even think about it.”

City ordinance states that until a hero has ranked above cadet level they cannot engage any threats above a level two alone. So Eren had absolutely no reason to carry his costume around in his bag everywhere he went, except, if it came down to it, if he could save lives, if he could make a difference, the rules could go fuck themselves.

Which is why he was struggling into his boots in the Starbucks toilet while a huge metal disk hovered over the skies above. Alien invasions were level five at the minimum, but he refused to join the civilians taking refuge. He was a hero, cadet or not, and he pulled his mask down over his face.

He took the elevator. Look, he was perfectly capable of climbing up the side of the building, but it seemed stupid to tire himself out, even if it was extremely awkward standing there while an anemic version of Yesterday played over the speakers. Not every hero could fly, after all.

Out on the roof, the wind buffeted him, tugging at his cape. Maybe the cape was a bad idea. The alien ship looked a lot bigger this close up, he thought. He backed up a bit and ran at the edge, flinging himself across the gap to the next building, seeking an angle to attack the disk.

He could see long needle-like structures starting to extend from the disk. Weapons or something; they’d give him something to grab on to.

“I will knock you on your ass if you even think about it.” Eren looked up to see a pair of wings spread wide in the air above him, hovering in the updraft coming off the side of the building, their owner masked but unmistakably glaring at him nevertheless. A blade gleamed in his hand.

Sparrowhawk. Now was not the time to be starstruck.

A jet streaked by them, and Sparrowhawk had to beat his wings to stay in place as the backdraft buffeted them. “Tch, moneybags.” Of course a level five threat would bring in the big guns, Eren thought. Now was his chance, with Sparrowhawk distracted.

“Just watch me,” he said, and leaped.

Sparrowhawk didn’t watch him. Eren wasn’t sure where he went, as the spaceship started to disgorge dozens of small aircraft, and suddenly he had his hands full. He couldn’t fly; he could only jump from one to the next, the drop below him dizzying as he made his way towards the spaceship, gunfire lighting up the air around him.

Maybe the rules were in place for a reason, he thought as an exploding aircraft knocked him out of the sky. Someone grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and threw him at the mothership, and he caught a glimpse of wings before he crunched into the side.

He punched his way inside, and was still trying to find the control room, find some way of shutting it all off when the ship itself started to disintegrate around him and then he was looking for an exit, tearing apart the metal with his bare hands as whatever powered this thing started to overload and warning lights flashed around him. He heard a strange crackling sound, and then everything went dark.

“Stupid kid.” He was lying on the ground, someone cradling his head gently. He opened his eyes and looked up at Sparrowhawk’s masked face. Sparrowhawk noticed he was awake, and his lips thinned. “Just rest. They’ll fix you up.” Eren tried to lift his head, to see what was wrong, but Sparrowhawk placed a hand on his chest to press him down. “Don’t look,” he said. He sounded pained.

“It’s okay,” Eren said. He grinned. “You know, they said my healing factor’s off the charts.” It was gratifying to see Sparrowhawk’s look of surprise as Eren insisted on sitting up. His legs were bare below the knees. Must have lost them, he thought. He’d need a new costume. He got to his feet, and Sparrowhawk stood as well, and they surveyed the wreckage of the spaceship.

Then Sparrowhawk grabbed his arm, hooked one foot behind his knee, and planted Eren arse-first on the ground. “Ow! What was that for?” He scowled at him, but it faded as he saw the hand extended to help him back up.

anonymous asked:

Hey!! Soz I lost a fic and I've tried really hard to find it but I can't, can you guys help? It's shrunkyclunks and Bucky doesn't know that Steve is cap, though everyone keeps joking about it. Bucky calls him grant, and later in the relationship Steve misses his graduation (out saving the world) and Bucky gets kidnapped by really shitty supervillains. Thanks!!

This one, maybe?

To the Marrow of Our Bones by Sproings

“I’m Grant,” the guy said shyly. He had jet black hair with streaks of bright blue that brought out his eyes, even from behind his thick rimmed glasses. “I’m Captain America’s assistant.”

“Am I supposed to be meeting Captain America today? Because I am not prepared for that,” Bucky said. He tried to play it off as a joke, but seriously, he would have found something nicer to wear if he’d known he was going to meet a national icon.

“Uh, it’s only me,” Grant said, biting his lip a little, just enough to show off the bright gold of his lip ring, and Bucky kinda wanted to help out with the whole biting thing, because Grant’s lips were lush and pink and very biteable looking.

EDIT: Someone wrote in with:

Comin’ in on a Wing and a Prayer by boopboop

This wasn’t Steve’s plan for tonight.

Part of the plan, maybe. The part where he goes to a club, anonymous and dark; that’s been part of the plan from the start. The part where he finds some… company; also part of the plan. He’s self-aware enough to know how pathetically lonely he’s feeling right now. The rest of the plan had been…less detailed, more just a collection abstract ideas. None of which he’d imagined would lead him here, his palms sweaty as they fish handfuls of cash out of his pockets, one arm anchored around the waist of a man who is very enthusiastically nibbling on his earlobe.

Or:

Steve tries and fails to master the whole ‘one-night stand’ thing, lies snowball in a truly epic fashion, the supervillains of New York are all out of control, Tony is the worst best friend and mediator in the history of ever, and Bucky has the patience of a saint. Guest starring: Augustus the houseplant, projectile pineapples, and Target superhero costumes.

2

Requested by: anonymous

Y/N - Your Name

Y/F/N - Your first name

Y/L/N - Your last name

Imagine Natsu getting mad when he doesn’t know why you keep visiting Sting and Rogue.

“I just don’t understand why she keeps going to talk to those losers!” Natsu yelled frustratedly. He was sat at a table with Lucy, Gray and Erza, after watching you leave once again to visit the Sabretooth guild.

“Cool it Natsu, she’s probably got her reasons,” Gray told him, smirking at the way his friend got so worked up each time you left.

“She definitely does, now keep quiet and deal with it!” Lucy scolded him as Natsu swung for Gray. “I’m taking a job. See you guys later!”

“I just don’t like the idea of her going to that guild, especially after the Grand Magic Games. Anything could happen.” Natsu groaned.

“Y/N can take perfectly good care of herself, and you know it Natsu, just relax she’ll be back soon.” Erza smiled.

“Alright, I think I’ve nearly got it.” You whispered, your chest rising and falling with the strain of focusing so much magic energy. “Shadow dragon… Roar!”

The black jet of light streaked towards Sting, who just managed to block it with his own magic in time.

“You did it!” The blonde yelled, laughing at your ecstatic face.

“Well done!” Rogue, the shadow dragon slayer, gave you a rare smile as he walked over. “You’ve mastered the dragon slayer spells. The only thing I won’t be able to teach you is how to consume your element, but that will come with time. For now, I think you’re good to go!”

“I think this calls for a party, don’t you?” Sting grinned as he slung an arm around your shoulder.

“I would, but I kinda need to get back to the guild. I got locked out of the dorms last time because of you two!” You laughed, shrugging off Sting.

“Thanks so much you guys, I really appreciate this. I can’t believe how well it worked!”

“Come visit again soon y/n, we can check progress! I still owe you a party!” Sting yelled, as Rogue waved happily. Lector and Frosch hugged you goodbye, and you promised to return soon.

For the past few months, you had been visiting Rogue Cheney, a shadow dragon slayer who was helping you improve your magic after being the weakest member of your guild. You were y/f/n y/l/n, of Fairy Tail, a shadow magic user, although now you were technically a Shadow Dragon slayer. After meeting your childhood friend at the Grand Magic Games, he decided to help you with your training, and eventually he progressed you into Dragon Slayer magic. You sighed as the Fairy Tail guild hall loomed into view, the last few lights glowing in the darkness.

“I don’t like it. She’s gone too much and I don’t trust Sabretooth!” Came a voice from upstairs. Natsu? You thought, as what sounded like Laxus replied.

“Well just suck it up and ask her why already! Although you act like you want an answer to something more than that to be honest, the way you always moan when she’s gone.”

“What? I don’t- maybe I do, but that’s not important. I’ll ask her tomorrow but if she doesn’t tell me then I’m going with her next time. It’s too dangerous.” Natsu said, and you ran back outside and to the dorms as you heard his footsteps approach the door.

“Hey Natsu! Fight me!” You yelled as you sprinted through the doors that morning.

“What, you being serious?” He rolled his eyes, but not for long, as you punched him right out of his seat with a fist covered in shadows.

“I’m completely serious. Let’s go, Pyro.” You smirked, stretching your arms.

“What’s gotten into her?” Someone yelled in the hall as Natsu prepared to attack.

“Alright, let’s end this, if I beat you, you tell me why you keep going to Sabretooth.” he growled. “Fire Dragon… Roar!”

At the same time, you shouted: “Shadow Dragon… Roar!”

The two jets of magic collided, but the shadows ate away at the fire until Natsu was consumed by your attack. He staggered backwards, only to be attacked straight away by you, in shadow form behind him.

“Where did you get this power?! Tell me why you keep going to Sabretooth!” He shouted, as he was hit by a shadow attack. “Fire dragon wing attack!”

Your arm was grazed by the fire, but you still leapt towards Natsu, punching him back outside and pinning him to the floor.

“I’ve been at Sabretooth to improve my magic; Rogue is an old friend of mine. This is the result, I can kick your ass, Dragneel. By the way, I heard your little confession to Laxus last night.” You smirked at the blushing pink haired boy, stood up, and brushed off your clothes before walking back into the guild hall, grinning at the astonished looks all around you. You made a mental note that you owed Rogue big time, having quickly established yourself as no longer the guild’s weakest member, but one of the strongest.

Lily’s Last Light

Ok so (for me at least) it’s just turned Lily’s birthday, so of course I’m going to post this!! I hope you enjoy (you probably won’t though) this short one shot about Lily in honour of her birthday. Heads up: it hurt to write. 


Lily Potter thought many things as death came hurtling towards her in the form of a spell.

Time seemed to slow down, as Voldemort stood in the room, wand outstretched, the jet of light streaking out of its end. Yet even as her surroundings ground to a halt, Lily’s mind seemed to move faster than ever.

She heard Harry’s cries from his small body, as she shielded him from the monster with them. She kept on hearing the slump of James’ body, the last shout he had made, over and over in her head.

She saw things in her mind. She saw herself, she saw Hogwarts, she saw home…most of all she saw those she loved.

Her parents appeared before her first.

Lily’s mother stretched out her hand. “You’ve been so brave, my darling,” she whispered. Lily wanted nothing more than to reach out and take her hand, but she couldn’t.

“You’ll be safe soon, my love,” her father whispered reassuringly. Tears glinted in his eyes.

“I miss you,” Lily croaked.

But before they could respond, they were gone, and they were replaced by Marlene McKinnon.

“Marlene,” Lily whispered. Memories of her close friend’s death came rushing through her again.

Marlene smiled her trademark grin. “I’m so proud of you, Lils,” she said. Before she could utter anything else, she too was gone…

…and was replaced by Severus. Lily’s ex-best friend stood before her, taller and older and more sickly than when she had last seen him, but nevertheless the same.

“You,” Lily said, and she could feel the anger in her voice. Even after all this time she could not forgive him, could not forgive what he had become.

Severus’ face seemed to personify sorrow, but he did not open his mouth to speak. His hand twitched, as if he was about to reach out to her, but he was gone before he could.

Lily saw Dumbledore now.

“Albus,” she begged. “Help us. He’ll kill me, don’t let him kill Harry too.”

Dumbledore’s bright blue eyes pierced her. “Lily Evans, you always were exceptional,” he said quietly.

“Help,” Lily pleaded once more.

“My dear,” Dumbledore said softly. “Only you can help yourself now.”

“How?” Lily asked desperately.

Dumbledore opened his mouth, and yet Lily knew what he was going to say before he spoke. It was the same thing it always was, wasn’t it?

“Love, Lily. Love.”

And then Dumbledore was gone and Sirius, Remus and Peter in his place. And not just them, Lily saw all her friends from Hogwarts and beyond…Dorcas, Alice, Mary and so on… those dead and alive…

“Look after him,” she said softly, to all of them.

None of them responded. One by one they disappeared, until it was just Sirius and Remus left. They both looked her in the eye, and there was wild grief in both of them, before they too had vanished.

And unexpectedly, Petunia appeared in their place. She looked much the same as the last time Lily had seen her. With a rush of sadness, Lily remembered all the times they had played together when they were children, just over a decade ago.

“Look after him,” she told Petunia. “Please.”

Petunia looked at her, and there was an indecipherable emotion in her eyes.

Lily had accepted her fate now, but she had to save Harry…

“Promise me, Petunia,” Lily begged, and she wasn’t sure if the tears streaking down her face were really there or not.

Lily wasn’t sure if Petunia responded, but soon she disintegrated in the wind. And finally, the one she had wanted to see the most, appeared before her.

“James,” Lily sobbed. She wanted to collapse into his arms, but she knew she couldn’t touch him.

“Lily,” he said softly. He looked the same as he had when Lily had seen him a few minutes previously, before he had run downstairs. His hair was tousled, his hazel eyes warm and glinting.

“You’re not gone,” Lily said furiously.

James held out a hand, much like her mother had done, but he too could not touch her. “It’s okay, Lily,” he said quietly. “It’s okay.”

“I won’t be able to look after Harry.”

“Not in the way we wanted to,” James admitted. “Not in the way we deserved too. But you’ve already given him the protection he needs.”

Lily had realised the truth now, realised what would happen.

“I love you,” James said, as he too began to disappear.

Lily’s heart contorted in pain as James began to leave, but she knew she would see him soon.

And then there was only one goodbye left to make, even as the Avada Kedavra spell came towards her.

“Be brave, Harry,” she whispered. She saw his green eyes from inside the cot, so much like her own…and she knew he would be safe.

And then death finally reached her, as time sprung back to normal. The last thing she saw was Harry’s face, and then a green light exploded into her vision…

For a while there was nothing.

And then there was a white light.


Lily Potter: 30 January 1960 - 31 October 1981

“The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.” 

Edmund x Reader: Water Guns and Damp Clothing

~For Kaitlyn (@edlusueandpete) Modern AU~

500 Follower Giveaway

“Edmund, I’m all wet now!”

Edmund scurried around the garden with a water pistol in his hand and a cheeky grin on his face. You shook your hands, letting all the water from them drip onto the damp grass. Your clothes were soaked.

Peter laughed, hitting his brother in the back of the head with a jet streak of water. 

“Run Y/n!” 

You did, dashing across the bushes to hide behind the fence that separated the Pevensies’ house from yours. You waited with baited breath, watching as Edmund pounded his little sister with a wave of water that was twice the size of her.

You shook your head, grinning to yourself. “This means war, Pevensie.” You said under your breath, stooping down to retrieve a small water pistol Edmund had dropped earlier. You leaned against the fence with the gun in your hand, ready to aim it at your boyfriend.

As soon as Edmund rounded the corner, you raised the water pistol, shooting him right in the face. Edmund, however, was too quick for you.

“Oh, you think you can beat the MASTER of water fights? Think again!” Edmund adjusted a setting on his industrial-sized water gun. Before you had a chance to duck, Edmund squirted you with a tsunami of muddy water. There was no turning back now, you were drenched and ready to kill.

“Kill him!” Lucy yelled, laughing as she shot Peter with her small water gun. You raised your eyebrows, lifting your pathetic little pistol. “Oh, I’m going to do more than kill him, I’m going to destroy him.”

“That’s an empty threat,” Edmund pointed out, taking a few steps back as you emerged from behind the fence, “You can never ‘destroy’ me.”

You grinned slyly. “Oh really?”

With that, you spun around behind him and shot him in the back of the head with water. He laughed, turing around face you again. “Oh please, that was-”

You cut him off with a firm and sloppy kiss. Edmund was so taken aback by the sudden movement that he loosened his grip on the gun, giving you a perfect opportunity to take it. “You were saying?”

Edmund made a motion to retrieve the weapon, but before he could grab it, you pulled back the mighty trigger of the water gun and shot Edmund square in the face with an even mightier wave of water.

“What the hell Y/n?!” He shouted, laughing in between attempts to take his gun back. You smirked, running over the lawn to where Lucy and Peter stood in battle. Peter was obviously winning.

“Edmund, catch!”

Before you even noticed the exchange happening between the two brothers, Edmund had a pistol in his hand and an evil look in his eye.

“Edmund Pevensie, don’t you dar-ARHGGH!” You spluttered as your mouth suddenly filled with about a liter of water. It tasted of salt and mud mixed together, and you felt the little pieces of dirt swimming around in your mouth. Not only was your entire face wet-which caused your mascara to run profusely-but now your clothes were literally becoming heavy from the excess water. You dropped the pistol.

Edmund and Peter cackled as you spit the water onto the grass; Lucy just frowned. “You both are quite cruel, you know.” She mumbled with a small smile, shooting you an apologetic look. You rolled your eyes at the boys, ringing out your shirt.

“You’re laughing now,” You said, snorting at Edmund, “But you’re the one who has to kiss me.”

Edmund rolled his eyes, leaning forward to peck you on the cheek. “See? Fine.”

You sighed, picking up the water gun. “You’re impossible.” You said, laughing a little yourself. “Now I have to change my clothes, and seeing as Lucy’s things are too small for me, I’m going to have to walk around naked!”

Peter and Lucy exchanged a knowing look. Peter smirked. “I mean, it’s nothing Ed hasn’t seen before after all.”

Edmund hit his brother on the chest. You rolled your eyes, turning around and shimmying off your shorts.

Peter gasped, grabbing his sister and using her as a shield for his ‘delicate eyes’. You chuckled, shaking your head as you threw the garment at Peter’s face and opened the back door.

Peter shrieked, prying the damp shorts from his head. Edmund and Lucy doubled over with laughter. Edmund shook his head in amusement as the screen door closed, shutting you inside.

“You know Pete, it’s funny how you’re always making such nasty jokes and yet you haven’t even touched a girl’s shorts before.”

Peter wrinkled his nose, flicking the denim shorts at Lucy.

“Whatever Ed.”

Live

Originally posted by andjustforthismoment

So, I was inspired by the idea of when Ray disappeared in the Halloween episode, and how the Legends had to go back and save his younger self in order to save him. In this little one shot, Felicity suddenly disappears right in front of Oliver’s eyes. And he goes back in time with the Legends to save her. This is the scene where he saves her right before she commits suicide after Cooper’s death.


Opening the door to the roof of the tallest building in Boston, Oliver’s breath catches at the sight before him. Felicity is at the edge, contemplating whether to jump. Her hair is jet black with purple streaks spread throughout and she is dressed in all black.

“Felicity” he almost yells.

Turning at the new voice, she looks to him with fear in her eyes.

Not wanting to startle her, he puts his hands up in surrender.

“Hey, hey, hey you don’t wanna do that.”

“Yes, I do. You don’t know me.”

She has tear streaks on her cheeks and is breathing heavily trying to breath in between tears.

”Listen to me, if you jump, there’s nothing. That’s it. You don’t want to end your life today.”

“Yes, I do. I have nothing to live for.”

“That is so not true. You have so much to live for, you have no idea. Look I know, that it’s hard. You just lost your boyfriend, and you think you love him-”

“I love him. I do love him.”

He stops his timid and cautious walk, he’s been using to get to her. By this point he is halfway.

“But Felicity, you have a whole future ahead of you, and not just any future but a bright one. And one day you, are going to meet someone, and you’re gonna love them. And he’s gonna love you. More than he has ever loved anyone in his life. You’re gonna be a bright spot in his life. You’re gonna be the one to bring him out of darkness. And you can’t do that if you jump.”

”You don’t know that-”

“I do know that.” He says these words as he starts to walk again and brings himself to at least 3 feet away. “Felicity listen to me, take my hand” he says stretching out his hand as an invitation. “Take my hand, and let’s figure this out together.””

Looking at his hand, she quickly turns her attention back to the street below, and then back at him.

“How can you be so sure? I could just be one of those people that ends up working at a dead-end job and never finds love. I don’t deserve it- “

“Yes, you do” he says taking another step. “You deserve love more than anyone.” Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he pours out his heart. “Listen to me, I know, that you’ve been lucked out so many times. Your dad left. Cooper died… sort of” he says muttering the last part under his breath. “But listen to me Felicity, I won’t let you down… I promise.” 

She takes a stuttering breath as she hears the sincerity in the handsome stranger’s voice. And sees the look of a broken man in his blue eyes. Once again, she looks down at the empty street, knowing that if she took one step, just one, it would all be over. All the pain would vanish. But the way the man is looking at her and reaching for her, makes her have the slightest doubt. Making her ask herself, ‘What if he’s right? What if there is something beyond this?’

Seeing the battle play out in her eyes, he continues to advance closer to her.

“Come here. You’re ok” he whispers. “It’s gonna be ok.”

Finally, she takes a step back, away from the edge.

“That’s it.”

She takes his hand and he pulls her into a bone-crushing hug and kisses the crown of her head. As she cries into his chest, he soothes her with calming words and gentle touches. Feeling her embrace is enough proof to know that she’s ok, and that their going to be ok. And he vows then and there to never let her go.


@candykizzes24 @wherethereissmoak @ao3feed-oliverfelicity @almondblossomme @dreamalongwithamy @smkkbert

#21

Pairing: Pansy Parkinson x Percy Weasley

Setting: Modern, non-magical, college AU

Written For: @saelor +  this giveaway


The thing about Percy Weasley—

The thing about Percy Weasley is that he’s such a fucking nerd.

Pansy watches him from across the bank of printers in the upper campus library, the dyed pink peacock feather affixed to the end of her pen tickling the underside of her jaw. He’s wearing suspenders. The bright orange-red of his hair is like a fucking beacon for unflattering nicknames, even from a distance. He’s a pocket-protecting amalgam of faded corduroy pants and neatly-ironed button-downs, skinny wool ties and scuffed black loafers and glasses, god, his glasses are atrocious. Round-framed and tortoiseshell brown. She wants to attack them with a hammer.

Still—he’s tall, and he’s lanky, and there’s something confusingly enthralling about his big hands and his long fingers, his precise movements and his perfect posture and his face, freckled and angular, a straight nose and a square chin and a pair of offensively blue eyes that frankly don’t belong on an uptight nervous wreck of a grad student. He’s attractive. Incredibly attractive. And it’s puzzling, and it’s frustrating, and it’s annoying, too, because Pansy has an econ midterm to study for and a sorority election speech to write and she doesn’t have time to stare at Percy Weasley like some pathetic freshman groupie.

Just then, as if he’d heard her thinking about him, he turns around, an uncapped yellow highlighter clutched between his teeth and the top two buttons of his shirt undone. He’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. A smudge of jet-black ink is streaked across one of his forearms.

Pansy’s mouth goes a tiny bit dry.

She’s shoving her chair back and stomping over to his table before she technically makes the conscious decision to.

You,” she snaps, planting her hands on her hips and scowling when she realizes she doesn’t have anything else to say.

He squints, slowly reaching up to remove the highlighter from his mouth. “Sorry?”

“You—” she says with less confidence, and then winces. “You…are Percy Weasley, right?”

“How do you know my name?” he asks, suspicion clouding his surprisingly deep—surprisingly warm, surprisingly pleasant, surprisingly masculine—voice.

She tosses her hair. “I asked around.”

He frowns. “Who did you—”

“Oh, my god,” Pansy interjects, already irritated by this whole fucking thing. What is wrong with her? “I asked the super old librarian on the third floor—the one who likes to gossip—who the tall guy with the red hair and probable bowtie collection was, and she was, like, very forthcoming, okay?”

Percy blinks, and then scratches at the back of his neck. “Okay,” he says, automatically. “But—why?”

He seems genuinely flummoxed, and Pansy abruptly wants to scream. It isn’t like she can be honest, is it? She’s a walking fucking restraining order at this point. “Seriously?” she sighs.

“Sorry?” he repeats, eyes narrowing slightly as he glances down at the Tri-Delt letters plastered across her cleavage. “Look, if this is about the Greek council, I’m not involved with—”

“It’s not,” she says, flatly.

“Oh.”

She purses her lips. Drums her fingers against the curve of her hip. Blurts out, “Did you take—um—economics?”

His eyebrows fly up, and several seconds of truly mortifying silence pass before he answers, “Yes,” effectively dragging the word out.

Pansy steels her shoulders for what she’s about to suggest because there’s literally no conceivable way for this to get worse. “So…theoretically…you could help me study.”

“Theoretically,” he allows, sounding unimpressed.

“Great!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together like she’s sixteen again and pretending to give a shit about football. “My table’s over there.”

His expression ripples with something weird. “Wait, I didn’t mean—”

She loops her arm through the bend of his elbow and swallows when she registers the heat of his skin against hers. “It’s just, like, what even is econ, anyway, like, is it math, maybe, is it science, maybe, is it bullshit, definitely—”

“I’m—I really can’t—”

She lets the tip of her tongue rest on her lower lip, swiping left and then right. His gaze, she notices smugly, tracks the motion. “You can’t what?” she simpers.

“I…I suppose I can…” he trails off, clearing his throat. A faint pink blush stains his cheeks. “Micro or macro?”

Pansy smirks.


Will you give me a hand?

Originally posted by stanxstan

Bucky x Reader Smut Request

Hello, darlings! This one is for @bucky-sempai and doll, I am beyond sorry for how long this took, really, I mean it. But I’ve finally finished it and I hope you enjoy reading this!

Request: Can I request a Bucky x Reader Smut, in where he teaches his girl how to give him a handjob but accidentally coming hard on her face and Steve catches them pls?

Masterlist

Warnings: smut. Pure filth. Some swearing.

Word count: 1715


The scotch glass rattled as you placed it on the elegant glass table in Stark Tower, your face burning red as Natasha and Wanda howled with laughter at you.

To them, you getting drunk was the best thing ever – plenty of laughs and entertainment. However, to you, getting drunk was a mistake – you were so predictable and easy to read that someone didn’t even have to use any effort at all to get you to spill embarrassing secrets about yourself.

That is exactly what had happened now.

Tony Stark was hosting a “small” party, so of course you were obliged to come. To you, this whole get together was pretty boring, so you sat down with your girlfriends to talk and after coaxing a few drinks into you, Nat began to ask some pretty personal questions, and of course your buzzed brain was more than happy to comply. Which is exactly how Nat and Wanda ended up laughing their asses off while making suggestive faces at you.

“You mean you’ve never…given anyone a hand?” Wanda questions, damn near pissing herself laughing.

You scowled slightly. “Not my expertise. I prefer…other things.” Picking up your drink once again and taking a large gulp, you tried to drown out the sounds of Nat and Wanda’s snickering. “Plus…it’s not like you’ve done that either, Maximoff.”

Wanda blushed slightly, but it was quickly replaced with a smirk. “Sorry to disappoint, (Y/n).”

Your eyes almost bugged out of your head at the admission. “What?! When? With who?”

Wanda shrugged. “That’s for me to know and for you to not find out. However”, she wiggled her eyebrows at you, trying to steer the sudden attention away from herself. “How is it that you’ve never handled the situation that way?” She giggled at her own pun.

Nat grinned suggestively. “Exactly, (Y/n). It honestly shocks me, especially with the way you and Bucky are like rabbits with each other.”

You choked on your own spit. “What? How did you… no we’re not!”

Nat gave you an unimpressed stare. “Seriously? I think you forget who I am, sometimes. You’re fooling no one here, sweetheart.”

Bucky and you had been dating for about four months now and you thought nothing could be more perfect. He was sweet, gentle, caring and everything you could ever dream of. But Bucky could also be rough with you – you adore the moments when he presses you up against the wall and attacks your neck with harsh bites or when he pounds you into the mattress. The mere memory of such times makes your core go on fire, so you quickly focus back on your two friends.

Glancing at Nat and rolling your eyes, you shifted your legs slightly. “We’re not like that. Plus, I’m not sure Bucky would want me to do that to him.”

“Wouldn’t want you to do what to me, doll?” A strong voice questioned from the doorway.

Your body went rigid with embarrassment as you turn to face your boyfriend, offering him a shy smile.

“Oh, hey, Bucky…it’s nothing…um forget about it”, you scratch your neck bashfully while the females beside you snicker. Bucky laughs in response, his metal arm appearing to purr. Brushing his flesh hand through his long, brown locks, he catches your gaze.

“Can you come with me for a second, (Y/n)? I need your help with something, doll.”

“Sure!” You spring to your feet immediately, glad to get away from the company of the two vultures sitting beside you. Ignoring their suggestive eyebrow wiggling and hushed snickers, you follow your broad-shouldered boyfriend out of the room, quickly matching your pace to his.

“So…what is it exactly that you need help with, Buck?” You ask him.

Bucky doesn’t say anything, but the smirk that appears on his face has you seriously worried.

Turning a corner, you’re once again going to ask what is it he needs help with, when suddenly you feel him clutching your arm and pulling you into some sort of room.

“Bucky wh-” You’re cut off by the brunet crashing his lips roughly into yours.

Your eyes snap shut as you reciprocate the kiss, threading your slightly trembling fingers through his soft hair at his neck as you feel him back you up against the wall.

Bucky’s fingers are holding firmly onto your waist as he moves from your lips to your neck, planting wet kisses and latching onto the soft skin on your collarbone as he grinded his hard member against your core, making your legs buckle slightly.

“You didn’t think I haven’t heard what you told them, did you? You’ve never given anyone a handjob before, hmm? I think it’s high time to change that.”

You felt your core dampen at his words and a whimper left your lips, making Bucky smirk as his eyes filled with lust and hunger.

The brunet tugged at your earlobe as he spoke to you, his voice gruff and urgent. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know, babe.” An involuntary moan was ripped out of you as Bucky slipped his metal hand in between your legs to feel the moisture gathered on your panties.  “Do you want that, (Y/n), baby?” He asked in a low voice, causing a wave of pleasure to rush straight to your pussy. “Tell me you want it.”

“Yes!” You nearly yelled out as you felt Bucky stroke your clit through the thin fabric of your lacy panties. “Yes, please, Bucky, please!”

Bucky groaned at the sound of your strained voice, his cock hardening even more and pressing against his pants. “Good girl.”

The man latched his mouth onto yours once again, his hand massaging your breasts gently. You moved your hands away from his neck and began to tug his jeans down, brushing your hand against his hard on and making him moan, which spurred you on even more.

As the jeans fell onto the floor, he shut his eyes and steadied his breathing, his heart thumping against his chest. “D-damn it, doll, if I don’t feel your perfect hands on my cock right now I swear I’m gonna go insane.” He panted harshly as your hands wandered over his clothed and straining member, massaging it gently. “Why don’t you take these off me and show me what you can do with your hands?”

You nodded, but a million thoughts rushed to your head. You’ve never done this before. What if he doesn’t like it? What if, somehow, you manage to hurt him?

Bucky seemed to notice your apprehension, as he kissed your lips sweetly and laid his forehead on yours. “Go on, doll. I know you will be perfect at it.”

Taking a deep breath, you slipped your hands into his boxers, slowly and sensually massaging his hard cock and his sack. Sinking to your knees, you pulled Bucky’s underwear off completely and moaned out loud at the sight of his thick member, your right hand sliding repeatedly over his length while your other hand kneaded his balls.

Bucky fisted his hands in your hair, his breathing coming out shallow and laboured. “G-god, that feels amazing, (Y/n). Ohh…k-keep going…yess…just like that…” He encouraged you.

Feeling slightly more confident, you focused your attention on his leaking tip, feeling the slick in your pussy begin to drip down your thighs at the mere sight. Experimentally, you rolled your thumb over the tip of his cock, gathering the precome gathered there and spreading it over his length, making it much easier for you to glide your hand over the thick, hard muscle.  Bucky let out a strangled cry at your ministrations and you stopped immediately, looking up at him with worry in your eyes. “I-I’m sorry, did I-”

“Don’t stop, (Y/n)”, Bucky choked out, his chest heaving. “S-so good…that feels so good…”

You shift your body slightly and rub your thighs together, the sound of Bucky’s voice alone making you desperately want to come. However, you had a job to finish, and you weren’t gonna fail at it.

Stroking his cock once more, you listened to Bucky’s quick breaths and felt him shake beneath your fingertips. Pulling his foreskin back slightly, you breathed onto his tip and twisted your hands gently at his base, then continued to run your smooth hands up and down the length of his perfect cock, taking pride in the fact that you were giving this man so much pleasure by simply using your hands.

As you squeezed his balls gently, you felt his metal hand grab at your hair, almost painfully. “D-doll I… I can’t… if you keep doing this I… I will…”

You smirked slightly and kept fisting his stiff dick as you fondled his sack. “Cum for me, soldier.”

Bucky tugged your head back roughly and shouted your name as he hit his climax, his balls drawing up and jets of white streaking onto your face and in your mouth, some even falling into the valley between your breasts. His breathing was harsh and his whole body heaved at his orgasm, his hands still gripping onto your hair.

Looking down and seeing your face painted with his cum and your eyes shut because of the pleasure you were in yourself, Bucky almost came once again. “S-sorry, (Y/n) I couldn’t hold it-”

Before the brunet could finish his sentence, the door swung open and someone rushed inside.

“Bucky, are you alright?!” Steve yelled out, frantically. “I heard shouting and I thought that… you…” He stopped speaking once he saw what was going on, while you rushed to cover your face and Bucky hastily pulled his underwear back on.

“What the hell?” Steve had a horrified look on his cherry red face. “I’ll just…uh…”

“Fucking get out, Steve!” Bucky shrieked finally and that seemed to shake Steve out of his daze.

“OF COURSE!” Steve bellowed as he nearly ripped the door of its hinges as he was in such a hurry to get out.

You and Bucky looked at each other for a while, before bursting out laughing, quickly forgetting your embarrassment.

“Well, doll”, Bucky smirked once he had calmed down. “I must say, you’re hands are definitely gifted.”

Laughing, you cover your red face but still feel a sense of pride at what Bucky said. Giving handjobs wasn’t so bad after all.


So how was this? My first attempt at writing smut! 

Tags: @mermaidinplaid @fangirlingsatan @buckyywiththegoodhair @swweet-nightmare @aenna-4 @bionic-buckyb @plumfondler @bovaria @imgettingmarriedtobuckybarnes @maece-rette @missmalfoy1703 @seblena @stephie-rowena @amrita31199 @too-many-fandoms-and-shitposting @clairefxkingtemple @seargantbcky @sebstan01 @italyand5soslover283 @kennadance14 @wonderfullbliss @shamvictoria11 @moncun @stank-tower @itsmethehoe @flowercrownsandmetallicarms @cojootromuelle @heytherepartner @justanneforyou @punktualities @221bshrlocked 

If anyone wants to be added/removed, feel free to send me a message :) (I’m sorry if anyone didn’t want to be tagged in this, but i forgot to note down which tags are for ITTS and which ones are permanent, I hope you don’t mind)

8

Week 9 Recap -Coming into the Thursday Night Football game, the Bills at 5-2 were the favorites to win over the Jets who were on a 3-game losing streak. But Jets RB Matt Forte’s recent complaints that they did not run the ball enough seems to have paid off. Forte rushed for 2 touchdowns and the team had 194 yards rushing overall. The Jets defense really hammered QB Tyrod Taylor, sacking him 7 times and keeping him off balance most of the night.

The Bills were also plagued by a few ill-timed penalties and miscues – one being a weird play by TE Nick O’Leary who forgot the ball was in play after he fell to the ground untouched after a catch. That bit of amnesia resulted in a forced fumble and was perhaps indicative of the type of night the Bills had.

📷s via IG: nyjets & buffalobills; and John Munson via nj.com

hargreaves1999  asked:

Your writing style is great. Since I've been sick for a week now, I am rereading all Gramander fics I can find. Yours belong to my favorites. I've been rewatching some movies like Les Mis and The Mummy returns too. I keep seeing Newt either silently stepping between Graves and a spell or like in Mummy Returns, everyone is relieved after a battle and suddenly there is Grindelwald casually stabbing Newt in the gut and Graves catches him as falls. Newt doesn't die though. Would you consider this?

Ok, first of all, I’m sorry to hear you’re sick and I’m glad my fics are giving you something to read. Get better soon, because being sick is miserable and life is much happier without it.

But second of all, how dare you. You’d stab my Newt? In the gut?? Casually?? And as it that isn’t enough, you’d make Graves be the one to catch him?! what did I do to you 

That being said, I’ve always wondered about something. Grindelwald impersonated Graves, right? For… Well, we don’t know. Weeks. Months. We assume it was polyjuice, but what if it wasn’t? In Goblet of Fire Dumbledore and co had to wait for the hour to run out before Barty Crouch’s disguise fell away. If they could just revelio the polyjuice away, wouldn’t they have done it then?

So, maybe Grindelwald was using some other disguise, some combination of charms and glamours that Newt could break through. And if that is the case, then when Grindelwald breaks out (because of course he’s going to do this) and goes after Newt (because of course he’s going to do that too), he does it wearing Graves’ face.

I mean, why not? Can you imagine anything more devastating? For Newt, who Grindelwald was targeting, but more for Graves who has lived this nightmare once already but now has so much more on the line.

Grindelwald is clever, this time. He doesn’t replace Graves. He just… works around him. When Graves is stuck in the office, Grindelwald makes a coffee run and brings Newt his tea. When Graves is working late, Grindelwald goes home to Newt and smiles at him, pushes his hair out of his eyes, trails his fingers down the side of Newt’s cheek. When Graves is out of the house, Grindelwald slips down into Newt’s case and wraps his arms around him from behind, resting his chin on Newt’s shoulder and burrowing his hands under the tail of Newt’s shirt.

Does Newt notice anything is wrong? Of course he does. Newt made Grindelwald before he’d even met Graves, you think he can’t recognise there’s something strange after he’s been married to Graves for a year? But Grindelwald is careful. He keeps his visits short, spaces them apart. Stirs up enough trouble in the city that Graves is overworked and overstressed, and Newt is worried, sure, but he doesn’t want to bring anything up when Graves is so obviously tired, and Grindelwald knows what to say when it’s his turn to quell Newt’s unease.

“I think a dark lord is impersonating you when you aren’t around” is not exactly the first thought that leaps into someone’s head.

In the end, it wasn’t Newt that Grindelwald needed to be watching out for. He’s in the suitcase, wearing Graves’ face and asking, in Graves interested-because-it’s-important-to-Newt voice, about the latest eggs that Newt is carefully incubating in his workshop. Newt is muttering distracted replies back, on edge and feeling guilty about it because he doesn’t know why.

Graves slams open the lid of the suitcase. He takes the ladder at a run, all but falling down the wooden steps, because his tracker, the trace they finally managed to get on Grindelwald puts him here. Puts him with Newt. He shouts Newt’s name but it freezes in his throat when he sees himself standing there in his own clothes and drinking from his own mug. He sees the hell he lived through two years ago starting again and he - he -

Newt spins towards him, eyes going wide. He darts his gaze between the two Graves and heartbreak flashes across his face as he realises how horrified his Graves - the real Graves - is. He reaches for the swooping evil with one hand and draws his wand with the other, moving to stand between them and shield Graves from the imposter.

Grindelwald moves faster. His hand shoots forwards, no need to bother with a wand, and a shrieking blast sends Graves flying from the ladder. He lands on his side, back aching from the collision with the bottom step and chest burning from the force of Grindelwald’s spell. He tries to pull himself up onto his arms but his ribs flare white-hot with pain.

Newt releases the swooping evil but Grindelwald has done his homework this time, and uses a mirror-shield to rebound the grasping tendrils it tries to capture him with and a paralysing-hex to send it careening out of the air and across Newt’s desk, scattering papers as it goes.

He rebuffs the first spell Newt throws at him but the second hidden in its shadow clips his shoulder, sending him staggering back. Enraged, he reaches forward and jerks his hand sideways, tearing Newt’s wand from his fingers. Graves raises his wand in a shaky hold, elbow close against his broken ribs and other hand holding his wrist for balance. Grindelwald fires before he can, a streaking jet of glaring blue shooting towards Graves’ prone form. Graves’ hand is too unsteady to slip into a shield spell and he can’t dodge, so he closes his eyes and grits his teeth for the impact of it hitting.

It doesn’t hit.

Newt dives between the two of them, hunching his body around the spell to block it. He cries out as pain arcs over his body, blue-white lightning arching his spine and setting his nerves on fire. He clips his head against the corner of a table with enough force to make it bleed, hot red blood gushing from the wound on his temple. Grindelwald steps closer, wand trained on Newt and an unholy glee lighting up his features - Graves’ features, he’s still wearing Graves’ face - as Newt screams.

Graves though, he’s still there and his spell slams out of left field and sends Grindelwald sprawling.

“Newt,” Graves says, hauling himself up and ignoring the pain in his ribs. “Newt!”

“I’m fine,” Newt gasps out. He rolls up to a shaky kneeling position, one hand raised to brush blood-soaked hair out of his eyes. “Head wounds, they bleed a lot, I’m fine.” He manages a smile for Graves, wobbly, but reassuring still. Graves huffs a beat of relieved laughter and smiles back, all of the fear and panic since he’d seen since Grindelwald’s location flash up as with Newt subsiding.

And this. This is where you’d have him stabbed? This is where you’d have Grindelwald stand up, rising behind Newt like some shady spectre of death himself? Horror takes Graves; he scrambles across the room, ignoring the fire pulling at his ribs, and watches as though in slow motion as Newt’s expression falls into confusion. Newt turns to look over his shoulder, one knee rising as he makes to stand up and Graves screams as Grindelwald grabs Newt by one shoulder to hold him still and pulls back his other arm with a dagger glinting in his fist.

This is what you want to happen?

The impact is like a shockwave and Graves’ world crumbles before it. Newt jerks. His face goes ashen, his body curls around the red blooming over his white shirt. When Grindelwald lets go of his shoulder he hovers, upright for a moment, then slowly lists to the side. His hands are covered in blood. He stares at them in shock.

In the background, the nundu leaps for Grindelwald, a roaring erumpet hot on her heels. Pickett scurries over, wailing his grief and clamouring for Newt. The occamies slide out of their nest with agitated chitterings, moving around him in a rough circle. Grindelwald blasts the nundu to one side and apparates before the erumpet can flatten him, but Graves doesn’t care.

Graves doesn’t care.

He cradles Newt’s head in his lap, tongue stumbling over a litany of healing spells that aren’t doing enough and aren’t doing it fast enough and he forces down the sobs because he can’t afford to stop. He can’t. His fingers are shaking around his wand and his vision is blurred from tears and Newt has started fitting, now, sharp aborted movements as he struggles to breathe.

“Newt,” Graves begs, and he wants to assure him that it’ll be ok, that he’ll fix it, but he can’t. The words stick in his throat. Blood pools on the wooden floor. He shakes his head, face twisting into something ugly with his grief, and presses his palm against the wound. He pours magic in - all the magic he has, every drop of it. “Newt.”

You said that Newt wouldn’t die and so no, he doesn’t die. Graves’ magic can’t heal the wound, he doesn’t know how, but it holds off death for long enough. When Tina finds them she sees this: Graves on his knees, Newt pulled into his lap and his head cradled against Graves’ arm. One of Graves’ hands is still on the wound, the faint glow of his magic pulsing like a heartbeat as he keeps his husband alive. Newt is awake, just, eyes half-lidded and unseeing and hands clutching at any part of Graves he can reach. Pickett sits on his ear, doggedly cleaning away the blood from the cut on his temple and fussily curling his hair back into place. The occamies, scattered around them, are singing, a low and mournful croon that’s barely loud enough to be heard.

But Newt lives. That’s the important thing. Years later, the scar will be just another one to add to his collection, but this moment - this agonising, unending moment when Newt’s life is as yet undecided - remains in Graves’ nightmares years after that.

Title: run boy run

Pairing: CainxDean

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 2,794

Notes: for MSR Halloween, prompt ‘Full Moon’, A/B/O au

-

Dean leaned against the hood of the Impala and sniffed the chill night air. Hands in his pockets, one ankle crossed over the other, he relaxed and let the tension unwind from his shoulders as he breathed in pine and churned mud. The patchy snow cover muted a lot of the smells, winter coming on in fits and starts as it snowed, and thawed, and snowed. A light breeze rustled the tall pine trees across the open field by the parking lot, pricking his face with cold burn and making him shiver despite the heat in his gut.

He probably could have made it to Sam’s new pack lands by now, if he’d wanted to. Dean still wasn’t too keen on his brother’s new mate. Ruby had cruel eyes and a sweet smile. But Sam was Sam and when Sam wanted something Sam made it happen. Dean was the only nomad left in the Winchester pack. He was zig zagging closer to Sam, meandering, putting it off. He probably could have made it to the pack lands by now, but Dean didn’t want to spend his heat there surrounded by strangers. He’d met Ruby, but he hadn’t met the others in her pack.

So it was just him and the pine trees and the moon tonight, on a back trail in the Colorado mountains sniffing out the territory. There wasn’t supposed to be a pack here, didn’t smell like it either. Just smelled liked earth and, round the parking lot, humans. It’d be better deeper in to the woods. The moon was round and bright in the cloudless sky, all the black spaces between stars a void but the pinprick smatterings of them shone silver around the brilliant light of the moon.

It made Dean itch to shed his human skin and run. It made the heat that had been blooming in his gut the past few days burst hot and sharp. It made his teeth ache to snap and his fingers twitch to tear into something.

Here was a good spot. Shedding his jacket, Dean opened the trunk to toss his boots and clothes inside. The ground was cold and hard, the gravel of the parking lot rough to human skin. He couldn’t hear or smell anyone else around except for a few small animals in the brush, prey. No other predators. Shutting the trunk and tossing the keys into the glove box of his unlocked car, Dean took his time moseying over the muddy field to the forest line. The snow had mostly melted and the ground was churned rough, wet, a beautiful scent right on the cusp of a shift into winter.

Dean liked riding the edges. He liked that trembling fine imminence when he knew he was coming up right on a heat. He liked feeling the shift and stretch of bones and skin right before a shift. He liked the unsteady edge between his humanity and his animal nature.

Keep reading

Soulmate!5sos blurb night with justfandomwritings, fivesecondsofwriting, everythngiwant​, mikeyflannels, and gutpainmgc

You hadn’t seen him in your dreams yet, and thus far tonight was the same. You felt sad, discouraged. Not all of your friends had met their soulmates, but all of them had dreamed with them by now. Did your soulmate not dream much? Or worse, did you just not have one?

This dream was a little different than your usual ones. Usually your dreams were closer to home, about things you knew, this one was… a concert? Some kind of show. You’d not been to a concert in years. 

It was loud, and you moved through the crowd like a ghost, walking through chairs and people to get closer to the stage, to see the point in all of this. No one noticed, no one cared. They just kept singing and dancing and screaming, girls mostly interlaced with a few guys.

You made it across the stadium floor and stood at the base of the stage. Four boys, one on drums, one singing (currently), one on bass, and another one who was rocking around the stage playing guitar. The other three were stationary, just as much ghosts as the crowd. The fourth one, the boy with jet black hair and streaks of color running down the side, he was different. Something was… off about him.

“HEY!” You shouted up to him. As your voice echoed around the stadium, the ghosts began to fade away. The massive crowd behind you started to dissipate in a cloud of smoke; the stage disintegrated under his feet; the rest of the stage band evaporated into thin air; the guitar fell from him and disappeared.
He turned, and your eyes met. You instantly knew. This dream was very different.

The two of you stared at each other for a long moment, contemplating what this meant, who he was to you, who you were to him. It wasn’t entirely unwelcome, but it was certainly odd. 

“So,” you hesitantly broke the silence, “I’m (Y/n)… and we… we must be soulmates.”

He nodded quietly to himself, looking absently around in thought, “Yeah… I’m Michael.”

You took a deep, shakey breath and looked around at all that remained of his dissolved dream : the stadium you were standing in. “So, this is your dream I take it.”

Michael smiled and took a step forward, coming to stand at your side as you looked at the thousands of, now empty seats, around the two of you. “Yeah, it is…” He reached out a hand between the two of you. “Mind showing me yours?”

You hesitantly lifted your fingers. “Y-Yeah… I’d like that.” And as your fingers touched the scene around you began to change.

Inktober 2017, day 19, prompt: “Cloud”. Slipstream experimental teleporting jet, streaking through cloud-scudded skies.

…what it totally counts as cloud! Heh. Also I mean, there’s not a lot of info about the Slipstream - a shot in Tracer’s vid, one of her sprays, think that’s about it, so I did the best I could.

Anyway, here’s this! It’s a plane! And uh, some clouds XD

For those who missed CaffCast’s High Roller’s Stream - Here’s what I sent him about Trellimar!

The recent Sunday High Rollers stream that went out was conducted by CaffCast, as the majority of the Rollers were away. For those that missed it, the four of us all sent extra special detail about our characters and their backstories, which revealed snippets of and hints about the character’s pasts, which we don’t want you guys to miss out on. There was some awesome stuff in there. To catch the extra special detail regarding Cam, Elora and Jiutou, make sure you watch Caff’s stream when it’s uploaded to Yogslive. But for now, this is what I sent Caff. I hope you enjoy a little more detail about Trell’s mysterious life, and see what you can speculate from the little info I’ve given. ;)
 
Trellimar was born into the 8th Generation of the House of Aleath, and much like his ancestors he was in a position of servitude within the Temple of Lolth. His great grandfather, Juraxtyl, was a priest in the temple and none of Trell’s family had ever achieved such a high position before or after Juraxtyl. The whispering voice that Trell hears has been with him since he was a child. His parents thought that this was a sign from Lolth that he was chosen to follow in the footsteps of his great grandfather, but the voice had a different, older origin than anyone suspected.
 
Trell was one of few to survive the attack from the Daeylkyr, how he managed to do this remains a mystery. Trell’s quite, reflective nature comes from a lifetime of servitude and solace with the Temple of Lolth where he had little opportunity to develop the kind of relationships he currently has with his fellow travelers. His unusual attachment to items he has found comes from a life of having very few of his own possessions, and he will make use of any opportunity he can where there is gold or treasure involved. Upon the hatching of Granamyr, Trell felt a connection that he has not had with other creatures, possibly as a result of never seeing a creature like this in his underground home, as well as feeding into his possessive nature. When events take place that deviate from his mission, or the pursuit of treasure, Trell becomes disinterested and does not wish to get bogged down in the politics of others.

He also carries with him a blade of Lolth, a purely decorative item that acts as a sign of each Drow’s allegiance to their God.Having seen much death in his life, Trell showed little emotion to Jiuto’s passing. Only one death in his pat has proved of any significance to him, and it is something that he keeps close to himself. However, when Jiuto’s spirit saved Trell from the grip of death he was touched by this act of kindness, not anticipating that anyone would go to such lengths to save him. He now feels that Jiuto is a member of the party that should be protected, especially in her reduced form. Trell is looking for the Talisman of Fenriceer, a key to the powers of his patron. When he aligned himself with this force a streak of jet black appeared in his hair.

- editional info. He’s so clumsy because he’s not use to the ‘above ground’ world around him! 

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Remember to catch everyone else’s when Caff’s stream is uploaded to yogslive! 
-Matt

anonymous asked:

I loved your sherlolly at hogwarts promt,pleaseee give me more. Pleaseeeeeeeeee pleaseeee

Oh, okay Nonny. You’ve pulled my leg. I’ll do it. (I kid; I adore Potter!lock.)

There had only been one previous occasion in which the Triwizard Tournament had found itself with four champions. Considering that the Dark Lord had returned on that occasion, no chances were taken when the Goblet of Fire spat out another that dangerous fourth name. Weeks of inquiries and investigations took place, and during that time, the four champions began to strike up a bond of some kind.

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