poke card

Listen up my dear Midgardians

Originally posted by mokisaur

Author’s Note: In celebration of this fine man and the incredible suit he is wearing and the new Thor movie but most of all in celebration that I can finally write again and my tenosynovitis is gone (not completely but 90%), here is a little drabble. (And I had the most amazing dream about Tom last night, let’s all hope that I finish dreaming it tonight 😉 )

And I just want to thank the incredible writers that cheered me up with their stories that they wrote for me. @bolontiku @dramadreamer14 @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend  @iron-winter @emilyevanston thank you guys so so much, I love everything you did and it was so relatable. I love you guys and just wanna let you guys know again, that I’m such a big fan of all of you. Keep up this incredible work.

Now let’s get down to this drabble.



“I swear, I left him here.” Loki says, looking at the place where the retirement home used to stand.

“In this building or on the Sidewalk?” Thor asks eyeing his brother suspiciously.

“You did a good job, Loki.” You said rolling your eyes.

Of course someone had to recognize Thor and soon enough 2 girls came up, pushing you out of the way and asking Thor if they could take a picture with him. Loki catches you and helps you standing straight again. You pull down your leather jacket and huff your hair out of your face as Loki rolls his eyes.

You look over at him and take a real look at what he looks like in his suit.

“See something you like, love?” he asks, smiling wickedly.

“Don’t get cocky. But as a matter of fact, that Midgardian suit actually suits you.” You say, smiling a smug smile back and winking at him.

He chuckles and pulls you close by your hips.

“You think so?” he smiles down at you.

“Yeah, but I’m missing some green. Makes your eyes pop out more.” You comment, chuckling as you see him roll his eyes at you.

“Now who is being cocky?” he asks.

You laugh and straighten his tie.  He closes his arms around you and looks over to his brother. The girls just left and he turns back to him. He slings his arm around you and you both face Thor again.

“So where do we find him?” you ask and look to both of them.

“Yes, brother. Where do we find him?” Thor shoots back, making Loki sigh annoyed.

“He can’t be that far.” He answers and you all look around.

“We’ll find him, don’t worry. Midgard isn’t that big.” You say, making them both smile, even though just slightly.

You look up at Loki who smiles at you and leans down. You hear a “not now you two. We have to find father.” from Thor but couldn’t care less.

But before your lips meet, he falls down through the floor. You open your eyes and look confused on front of you and then on the ground.

“Loki?” you ask.

“Loki?” Thor whispers, poking the card on the ground with his, as an umbrella disguised, hammer.

“Who said Midgard is boring?” you ask him and he just shrugs and makes his way to the address from the card.

Love is the Air we Breathe

Originally posted by dreamer-of-wildfire

(not my gif)

Pairing: Spock x Reader

Notes: First time writing Spock, oops. I tried not to fuck this up.

Spock had been a dick. It was as simple as that, at least in your mind.

You’d known when you got together that he wasn’t the most empathetic, nor was he by any stretch a ladies man, but his accidental callousness was a little bit harder to swallow when things weren’t going well in other parts of your life.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Can u do an imagine where u broke your arm so you had to get laughing gas. And you wake up all loopy and Grayson is a helper and then you talk about how you guys are gonna get married and have kids. You see the video and go back to apologize but then he ends up asking you on a date. (There's a video that was inspired by this on YouTube called ' girl proposes to nurse on anesthesia!!' Just in case you need more details)

OMG I LOVE THAT VIDEO AND I LOVE THIS IDEA YOU ARE HEAVENLY FOR REQUESTING THIS, I put my own twist in as I was in love with the idea that I wrote at the end instead. I hope you enjoy!

The room is spinning, the border of the wallpaper is melting to the floor and you’re not even quite sure you remember who you are. Those damn stairs to your third floor apartment were the stairs from hell, claiming your arm as a victory. Ten grocery bags and three flights of stairs didn’t mix well with you, the reason why you’d stared in horror at your hanging arm with vomit in your throat.

The recovery room is blindingly bright and the occupant behind the curtain next to you is moaning in pain. It all sounds like a scratched up CD, cutting in and out and twisting all together into one horrible background noise. You would wonder where your friends or your parents were, but you were far too high to care.

The doctor had unfortunately done surgery, having to place a metal rod through your arm, the caution yellow cast nearly putting your eyes out. Your mouth was dry, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth like shoving an entire spoon of peanut butter in without anything water to drink. You groaned out in agitation from the lack of liquid, and partly from the lack of company, your eyes double visioned as you tried to make out the green scrubs by the foot of the bed. “I’m here to give you a little more medicine, Miss Y/L/N.”

You squinted to focus, not truly seeing the nurse until he sat in the chair next to you, a vial of antibiotics in his hand. You shook your head to rid the swirling of your eyes, zoning in on the most handsome creature you’d ever seen. “Omg, you’re hot as fuck.”

His bellowing laugh made your droopy smile feel like it was willing to slip right off your face. “I’d say that’s a first from a patient.”

You don’t even acknowledge his hands placing the syringe of antibiotics by your IV, all you could care about was how you’d lucked up with the hottest nurse in history. “You’ve got to be fibbin.” You’d try to correct your slur but your tongue felt ten sizes too large for your mouth.

His hand reaches over to the bedside table, grasping a styrofoam cup full of glorious ice. “Here, you can’t have water yet, but this should help a little.”

The spoon scraping against the ice sounds like nails against a chalkboard, he reaches out to feed you some, a few falling carelessly to the bed sheets to melt. You focus on his rounded button nose, the slight stubble on his chin, the flecks of green that dot his irises in such an interesting way. You’re in slow motion, it feels like years that your undamaged arm reaches out to him, your pointer finger booping his nose as you bust into a fit of girly giggles. “You are just SO cute! Are you married?”

He grasps your hand which is still floating in mid air on its own, placing it to the sheets. The warmth feels like euphoria, the medication running through your veins making you a block of ice. You grasp onto it, refusing to let go even as he tries to gently pull away. He relents after a moment with a sincere smile, letting you play with the rough pads of his fingertips. “No, I’m not married.”

You giggle out again, it was actually embarrassing as you weren’t a giggler, but the high was too intense to stop you from doing it. “Okay,” you pull his hand to rub along the side of your cheek, “you can marry me then.”

Instead of handling the overbearing situation awkwardly or rudely, he continues to smile like the obvious gentleman he is. “You’re very forward aren’t you?”

You grasp his entire arm to cuddle into as he checks to make sure your injured arm is safe as you roll over. “No, I just love you. Do you love me?”

His head throws back as his laugh bounces off the melting walls and echoes in your head, you really like the sound of it. “Only if you let me check your blood pressure.”

He rolls to the side to grasp the blood pressure cuff, having to extend his body as your death grip is not letting go of his arm. “Alright, sexy, cuff me!” His laugh blows out through his nose as he shakes his head and struggles to wrap the cuff around your arm. You stare up at him, the lights and the medication casting a halo around him. “Gosh, you’re just so pretty. Please marry me.” He hums as he watches the meter working to find your vitals. “We can buy a two story house, have a few babies. I can make you pasta, you can mow the lawn-”

You’re interrupted by your parents sliding the curtain open to see you, your mother rushing over to take a look at your caution cast. You continue to nuzzle the perfect man’s arm as he explains the details of your condition to your parents. Your mother reaches over to try and pry you away from his arm, but you don’t budge. “Honey, he needs to get back to his other patients.” She stops to give him an apologetic look, “he can’t stay here with you, let him go.”

You muster up the meanest face you can make which probably looks ridiculous. “No! He’s my husband! We’re going to have three children and he’s going to mow the lawn!”

Your father shakes his head with near tears of laughter in his eyes. Your mother finally pries you away from your dream man, the tears slipping from your eyes as you whine for him to come back to you. “I promise I’ll be back in ten minutes, okay? I won’t forget you.”

You snub, throwing a sad excuse of a glare at your mother the traitor. Everything rushed into a blur after that without the beautiful nurse there to catch your attention. Hours turned into the morning as you woke with a groggy head and a throbbing arm. The room was empty and vacant, far away from the ER. You can’t remember much, aside from the hazy memory of a gorgeous man that you assumed you’d dreamed up in your head.

The door creaks open, your eyes looking up to expect your mother with some lecture about being more careful, but instead it’s a random stranger with a case of gorgeous white peonies. “An order for Miss Y/L/N?”

You nod your head, your brain feeling as if it was floating unattended inside your skull. “Yes, that’s me.”

The man sits the cold vase in your hands and leaves without a word, what a charmer. Your sense of smell is a little wacky, but the fresh flowers still smell pristine and perfumey. The tip of a card pokes your nostril as you lean back to pluck it from the blooms. Hope your arm isn’t killing you too much. Here’s my number in case you’d like to discuss our future more with a clear head. – Grayson