pretending to read newspapers

It’s a [Tinder] Date! (Part 3/3)

Summary: Thinking he needs to find a date, Natasha signs Steve up to Tinder. In Queens, Peter Parker does the same to you. It’s a match!

Word Count: 3,405

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: Almost a month later, but this fic is officially done :D I hope you all enjoy this fluffiness. 

Originally posted by mackievanstan

Work managed to distract you enough to not keep looking at the clock every five minutes. Despite part of your brain telling you that there was no way you had a date with Captain America, there was another part that couldn’t help but to hope this was true. And so, you found yourself daydreaming of showing up to the restaurant and seeing him there. What would you even say to him? What kind of greeting would you use? Would you address him as Captain, or maybe Mr. Rogers, or just Steve?

By the time you got home, you had a few outfit options in mind and made a beeline to the bathroom, taking a shower before you got started on getting ready.

Peter came around as you were choosing between four different outfits you had draped on your bed. He helped you picked the one that was form-fitting, waggling his eyebrows playfully.

“We gotta tease him,” he said.

Keep reading

Sweet Dreams **

Request- Hi! Could u do a Bucky imagine where the reader is Tony’s daughter and she had a wet dream about Bucky and tells Wanda and Nat about it and the boys hear the conversation and Tony gets all protective and all? You can choose the final!!I love your blog btw♡ from @awesomebrokenangelworldus-blog

Bucky Barnes X Stark!Reader

Word Count: 1763

Warnings: There’s a wet dream! that’s pretty NSFW.

A/N: Hello! I’m sorry this took a while! I hope this is alright!! Please let me know :) xo 

Keep reading


For the past week Peter had been much more snarky than usual.  At first you had found it comical, enjoying his snappy responses and his sarcastic comments.  But that was when they had been directed at everyone else.  He had never been that way with you.  Recently that had changed, and the more annoyed he seemed at you the snarkier he got and the less funny it was.

“What crawled up your ass and died?”  You finally confronted him, annoyance seeping into your tone.  Peter didn’t even glance up from the newspaper he was reading, pretending like he hadn’t heard you as he carefully turned the page and scanned it for an interesting article.  “Peter!”  Grabbing for the newspaper it wrinkled and ripped loudly as you pulled it from his hands.

Glancing angrily up at you Peter rose to his feet, shoulders rolling back as he stood.  “Why don’t you ask your best friend, Derek?”  He asked, brushing past your shoulder and stomping his way up the spiral staircase towards his room like a toddler.

Flabbergasted, you stood where you had been with the newspaper balled in your hand.  “You’re being an ass because you’re jealous?!  Seriously?”  You yelled.  The only answer you got was the slam of Peter’s bedroom door as he closed it loudly behind himself.


Reader X Peter Hale
Song inspo:
Acquainted by The Weeknd
Baby you’re no good
Cause they warned me ‘bout your type girl, I’ve been ducking left and right
Baby you’re no good
Think I fell for you, I fell for you, I fell for you

Originally posted by nudev

Peter smiled as you struggled to get the cereal on top of the fridge. He’d purposely placed it there knowing you couldn’t reach it. Even on your tippy toes, your fingertips only brushed the edge. “Trouble?” he took a sip of his tea and pretended reading the newspaper. You turned around and crossed your arms. Peter expected you to beg him to get the cereal but you had other ideas in mind.

Peter heard you come close to him but he did not anticipate what you were going to do next. He took a sip of his tea just as you moved the hand where he was holding the newspaper and straddled his lap. Peter was startled and began to stammer. You grabbed the cup from his hand and took a sip while maintaining eye contact. Then you set it on the table by shifting slightly, his member now sat underneath your clothed heat.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pouted. “Can you maybe get the cereal for me?” you batted your eyelashes as you spoke in a soft, sensual voice. Peter tried so hard not to harden while your sweet sex pressed into him. Getting impatient, you leaned into Peter and rested your lips on his neck, “please, Peter,” your tender lips and hot breath moving against the sensitive part of his neck forced him to drop the newspaper and gently hook his fingers into the thin fabric of your shorts. It was an effort to relieve the pressure of you on his semi-hard bulge. “Okay,” Peter strained to keep his composure. He couldn’t let you believe you had won even though it was true.

Peter grabbed the cereal box with ease and handed it to you. You grabbed the bowl on the table and pushed it towards him. Peter sighed as he poured you your cereal then the milk. You took a spoonful and moaned loudly while rolling your eyes to the back of your head. “This is so good, thank you, Peter.” Peter nodded and left to his bathroom. He gripped the sink as his claws stretched themselves. His eyes turned blue and his semi-hard bulge was now fully erect and straining to be free. Derek warned Peter that you were cunning and we’re more dangerous than anything they’d come across. He didn’t take it to heart, he got close, close enough.

You got me puttin’ time in, time in
Nobody got me feeling this way
You probably think I’m lying, lying
I’m used to bitches comin’ right 'way

“I’ll be bait”
Everyone looked at you. The pack was having a meeting on how to destroy a rogue wendigo or at least stop him. Scott wasn’t about to protest because you were trained as a child for this. Better than Chris and Allison combined. Peter, on the other hand, objected.
“Sure, let’s all throw you in the lion’s den and pray that you’re as lucky as Daniel was.”
“Do you have a problem with me being bait?”
“No,  I just made that reference because I wasn’t getting enough attention, yes I have a problem with you being bait”
“Peter, Y/N is qualified for things like this, she can handle herself,” Derek cut in.
“For werewolves and buck, yes, but this is a wendigo we’re talking about. It could kill her before she has time to escape, or leave her seriously injured”
“Then we’ll raise it to a vote. Who thinks Y/N should be bait?”
Everyone except Stiles, Lydia, and Peter raised their hands. Peter scoffed.
“That settles it, Y/N is bait. We leave at sundown.”

In the car, Peter grumbled to himself about the whole plan. You turned to him and gave him a smile, “Peter.” He turned away to look out the window. “Do you like me?” Peter shook his head no. “I think you do.” Peter looked at her with strict solid eyes, “you can’t heal. If he attacks you, it’s over, that’s why I wanted someone else to do it.” You leaned across the seat and placed a sweet, warm kiss on his cheek. “Then save me.” With that, you walked out of the car and headed inside the building.

Isaac held your hand and you watched his veins turn black your pain subsiding. It had been an ambush. Four wendigoes were waiting for fresh blood. The pack was sure of two of them max. The pack had been fighting them off while Isaac popped your dislocated shoulder and mended your cut just the way he saw Deaton do at the clinic. You tried to get up and get back on the fight but Isaac stopped you. “You’re hurt, let them handle it.”

Peter crawled on all fours then lunged at one of the Wendigoes who attacked you. He was seething with blind rage. Scott and the others were too busy to pay attention until it was too late. “No!” Scott yelled. Peter stood above the creature and without a second thought, he brought his claws across its throat. Peter looked back and shrugged his arms, “oops.”

Peter carried you into the loft and laid you down on your bed. He checked your bandage and gave you water to drink. He’d never felt so protective over anyone the way he did tonight. Once he heard you cry out, he hopped out the car and dashed your way. Peter wanted to take care of you but he let Isaac do it so he could kill the Wendigo. He kissed your forehead and let you drift off to sleep. She was just a girl. What made her so different?

You got me touchin’ on your body
You got me touchin’ on your body
To say that we’re in love is dangerous
But girl I’m so glad we’re acquainted

Peter banged on your bedroom door. Tonight was a dance at the school and your date was waiting downstairs. The kid was nervous so he tried to hold a conversation. “I like the place, it’s very cozy looking” Peter cut his sandwich in half then went to pour himself a drink. “So are you like Y/N’s guardian?” Put the drink away and returned to his plate. “I’ll have her home early and I’m going to take good care of her.” Peter sighed and went upstairs. “Y/N hurry up!” You threw on earrings and looked for the shoes, “Just a minute!”

Not wanting to go downstairs, Peter leaned against the wall, across from your room. The door clicked and you slowly opened the door to reveal your outfit. “Does this look okay?” Peter drank in the sight of you and nearly passed out.

Your hair brought out the glow of your skin, the cutout bandage dress exaggerated your curves, the heels defined the shape of your legs, you appeared as a deity hiding amongst humans. Peter could feel his heart pump blood at an extreme rate. “Peter? You’re making me nervous, say something,” he awoke from his trance and held your hand, guiding you downstairs. “Something,” you swatted his arm and smiled.

The tool waiting downstairs nearly dropped his phone when he saw you. He hung up on whoever he was talking to and took your hand, Peter let go so you could leave. Peter clutched the boy’s shoulder hard enough for him to cry out, “If you hurt, ditch, or make her uncomfortable, I will beat you bloody, understand?” The boy furiously shook his yes. Peter let go and patted him on the back a little too hard, “great!”

The car was perched up on the hill, an overview of the city. The radio softly sung all night by Beyoncé while JC kissed your neck. He was handsome, occasionally worked out so he was toned but also built, a gorgeous smile and his hazel green eyes blended with his tan skin.  JC was a sweet kid but you just weren’t feeling anything. Truthfully be told, kids your age could never satisfy you because they were still growing, still trying to figure out what to do.

“Can we go to the dance?” JC pulled back to meet your eyes. “Am I doing something wrong?” His voice was so unsure. He didn’t want to disappoint you. You lifted his chin with two fingers and smiled, “No, I just want to dance with you. I don’t want to do” You pointed around the scene, “this.” JC nodded his head then laughed. “You’re teasing, right?” You furrowed a brow. “You wear this sexy ass dress and you’re telling me you don’t want to have sex? You almost got me, Y/N.” JC ran his hand up your thigh and attached his lips to your neck. You grabbed the back his head, collected a fistful of his hair then brought his forehead down to meet the steering wheel. JC howled in pain, you opened his door and kicked him out.

Peter laid his legs out onto the coffee table as he watched another episode of his favorite show. The loft was quiet without you. That’s how Peter had enjoyed it before but ever since Derek let you, an orphan slash refugee, into the loft, he’d become accustomed to your frequent singing and dancing, popping out of corners, joining him to watch TV uninvited, and sleeping on his bed whenever you felt like it. He wasn’t going to say he was in love. That would be most unfortunate and inconvenient for the both of them. Instead, they were two people who enjoyed the partial company of another.

You walked through the door, dropping your heels behind the couch. You plopped down next to Peter and rested your head against his shoulder even though he’d ask her times before, not to do that. “How’d it go?” Peter took a sip of his beer and tried to focus on the TV. “Why don’t you smell me and find out?” Peter sniffed the air to catch scents of jasmine musk, Victoria Secret, and that fuckboy from earlier. “Gross,” you got up from the couch and made your way to the shower, removed your jewelry, took a quick lather and rinse, filled the bath with lavender water, a couple of flower petals, and a dash of vanilla. The water had a pretty purple color as you sank into it.

“Peter… Please come here,” you waited for him to arrive. Peter crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. “I hear baths are disgusting, just sitting in your own filth.” You sat up and smiled, “baths naturally detox the body from stress and instill peace in the mind.” Peter rolled his eyes and walked in a little further, “What did you want?” You pointed at a stool nearby and some oil. “Please touch me, I need to relax,” Peter’s cock twitched in response to you asking him to touch you, but understood you meant massage your neck and shoulders.

Without usual protest, Peter pulled up the stool and settled behind you. He instructed you to tie your hair up before he got to work. He began to rub his hands on your shoulders, dipping into the base of your neck and rolling over your collarbones. You sighed in appreciation to let Peter know he was doing good. He applied slight pressure, unintentionally warming up the oil. The warm sensation made you sensitive to his rough but soothing touch. You rolled your head back when he got to your neck, eyes closed, a look of pleasure spread across your face. Peter tried so hard to keep his claws in so the wolf wouldn’t take over and make him do something that he’ll probably regret afterward. You opened your eyes to meet with Peter’s, and with a husky voice, you whispered, “harder.” Peter mustered all his strength to keep himself from wolfing out but you made it so difficult. Instead, he did what he does best and evaded the situation, “sorry, you’ve officially gone overtime. If you want more, you’ll have to pay the lump sum.” Peter got up and left the bathroom, leaving you in an aroused state. Big mistake.

I got you touchin’ on your body
I got you touchin’ on your body
I know I’d rather be complacent
But girl I’m so glad we’re acquainted

Peter laid in bed horny and frustrated. He had to be strong. He was an alpha and he couldn’t let you push him down a few pegs. A knock fell at his door and he groaned. “Y/N, goodnight,” a pause then another knock. “Y/N, please?” You opened his door and walked in. Peter wanted to be angry but was too enticed to be. You wore a thin robe that clung to your body. It moved with you as you walked. “Y/N…What are you doing?” Your ponytail was strategically placed as you bit the tip of your index finger and swayed gently. “I’m ready for my next session,” you dropped your robe and revealed your naked body to Peter. His breath hitched and he closed his eyes to prevent you from seeing his ominous blue eyes. “I’m willing to pay in full and up-front,” you crawled on the bed in front of Peter, you widened your knees and dropped a hand to play with yourself. As soon as your fingers brushed your clit, you let out a satisfied hum. Your other hand massaged a breast, nipples in-between your fingers. Peter’s breathing grew heavy as he could get a whiff of your tempting wetness not too far from his nose, and the sounds of your self-pleasure were driving him over the edge. His eyes fluttered open when your moans became louder. The beautiful sight of your head thrown back, your fingers disappeared in your treasured garden and a hand on your breast broke him.

Peter dove for your neck. He licked, sucked, and bit you until you were begging him to take you however he pleased. You removed your hands from their place and explored his body. This prompted Peter to move forward. He tore off his shirt and forced you to lie down. His head immediately disappeared between your legs. You bundled up the sheets as you tried to breathe. Peter’s tongue worked artfully as if he was painting a masterpiece inside of your sensitive sex. “Peter…” Your cries threw him into a lustful manic state. He shoved two fingers inside you, pumping until your body shook with an orgasm so good, Peter could feel the vibrations at his fingertips.

By now, the room increased in temperature. You pushed Peter down and pulled off his belt. He was so impatient that he helped you take off the jeans that was binding his solid erection. You tugged down the waistband of his boxers and watched as his member slapped against his stomach. Peter sighed at his newfound freedom. You grasped the base of his cock and licked a line up his shaft. When you gathered enough moistness, you slid him into your mouth. Peter groaned and involuntarily bucked into your mouth, “shit, Y/N.” His cursing became constant as you bobbed up and down, then swirled your tongue in ways no one ever has. For the first time in his life, his engorged sex violently twitched, enlisting him to shoot powerful shots of cum into your mouth without an obvious forewarning. Peter growled at the sudden intrusion.

The wolf was released. It practically snatched you up and pinned you underneath it. It’s claws poked your thigh as it pushed one leg back and rammed itself into you. You screamed in pain while it ravished you beyond any fantasy you’ve ever had. This punishment soon gave you pleasure, feeling his thick length, run up and down your walls. Peter struggled to gain control but the wolf knew what it was doing. It allowed Peter to go deeper than he’d been and harder than he could. The wolf amped up the pleasure by hooking both of your legs onto his shoulders. This position allowed it to probe your g-spot while it brought a thumb to your clit. Immediately, you came around him, overwhelmed by the stimulation.

The constant contractions of your walls as you orgasmed, induced Peter to moan. “You feel so good, baby…if you keep squeezing me like that, I’m going to cum…oh fuck.” Peter’s thrusts grew hungry, you could feel your stomach twist into knots as another orgasm approached. His grunts were animalistic, his skin grew hot, just like before, his body contorted strangely. Peter wrapped a clawed hand around your neck, poking into your skin, threatening to slash it open with a flick of a wrist. “Peter…” Your back arched at the same time Peter’s cock twitched. The two of you moaned, yours being hoarse and raw, his unearthly, as you both ripped through an exhilarating, breath-taking release. His hot seed burned you with a desire that you could never feel with anyone else.  The room began to spin as you both collapsed into each other.

Baby you’re no good
But really if I could
I’d forget about you, 'get about you, 'get about you

Peter pried his eyes open, feeling a warm glow on his eyelids. The sun shone in the room through a crack in his blinds. He turned away from the light, in hopes of seeing your face. He was disappointed. Peter felt like his body was buried in cement as he walked towards his shower. All cleaned up but still sore, Peter went downstairs. You were sipping a cup of coffee while reading a book. “Alert the media, we’ve got a reading millennial over here!” You looked up from the book and chuckled. “That was some night, wasn’t it?” You cocked a brow and closed the book. “Peter, we passed out for three days.” Peter choked on the coffee he had just sipped. “Three days?!” “We’re lucky Derek was out of town for the weekend, otherwise, we’d be in deep, deep shit.” Peter had never passed out from sex ever in his life. Sure he’d blackout but this was new.

He sat down in awe of this fact. He was so distracted he didn’t notice you get up from your chair and move towards him until you straddled his lap like you did last week. “Care to share what you’re doing?” You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck, “we never kissed, I’m curious to see how you–” Peter beat you to it by entrapping your top lip in between his. You melted into the kiss, parting them to welcome him to a dance with your tongue. Preferring to keep the kiss intimate and sensual, you pulled away before he could continue any further. You hopped off his lap and picked up your bag. On your way out, you gave Peter a wink. This wasn’t love, Peter tried to convince himself.


imagine rami malek sitting on a park bench pretending to read the newspaper, but really he’s just peering over the edge of the paper at the dog wedding happening in the field in front of him. as the yorkie is declared married to the pug, rami tries to hide his sobs behind the newspaper. several wedding-goers near rami look over at him

Writers Creed Interview

…“I don’t want to have any regrets looking back on my life.Getting this degree was one of my life goals years ago.I like having time to talk to folks like this on Tumblr. We have so many immensely talented folks here.”…

This time at the writerscreed interviews we got the chance to talk to Diane (@rhapsodyinblue) and her charismatic nature and the similar urge to help the writers made it a totally worth it experience.

Wc: Rhapsodyinblue45, well how did you come up with that url.

D: I’m in love with the 1920s, an era of flappers, cigarettes, bootleg alcohol, and the Charleston. My picture on my blog is a woman with bobbed hair who looks like a flapper. A song from that era, featured in The Great Gatsby is “Rhapsody in Blue” by Gershwin.

Wc: Woah well that was a pretty calculative approach, even our url involved pretty intense thinking and discussion but it wasn’t that deep approach.

Wc: Moving on,so any nicknames or names you like to be called by?

D: Di or DD are a couple. I like being called Rhapsody here.My name is Diane though.😉

Wc: That’s a unique name.

D: DD initials of my name,Di after Lady Diana – though we look nothing alike.

Wc: Lady Diana, are we talking about the Princess of Wales here?

D: Yes!!

Wc: What got you into writing any events that lead you to weave magic with words?

D: I was very imaginative as a kid. I wrote stories for a pretend newspaper that my family was forced to read. In graduate school, I took a poetry workshop and loved it! I became addicted to poetry. I teach English and creative writing now, so I get to practice all the time. It’s my personal therapy, my creative outlet, my wonderful sanity now.I disappear within the words, feel their sounds on my skin. I love the imaginative world of poetry!

Wc: Wow that’s amazing, pretty awesome reasons, writing is all about creativity and therapy I guess, well for those who choose it.Well you’re astounding imagination is very well depicted in your writups.

Wc: If I may assume Kids or your students might love you as a teacher they do right?
You don’t seem strict, well if you are then just let this question pass by as you never read it, just kidding.

D: I hope it’s mutual. I adore listening and learning from them as well. We read and share our thoughts all the time. Hopefully, they find the writing space liberating, a place they can be entirely themselves and feel understood, respected.I can be, but that’s a different class. I am most strict with myself as I am still in school as a student too.💜, Grad school.Teaching is all I ever wanted to do, to help people develop into the selves they desire to be, to encourage them to live their richest lives.

Wc: Well that’s the best quality a teacher can have, that will, to develop mutual understanding and bonding and adding to it also providing them the independence to think, you could be the next most wanted teacher.
You sound like a pretty amazing teacher to me to be honest.
Oh a student in grad school too, you are turning out to be one of the most talented women I’ve come across.
Well that idea is pretty amazing and Noble, we all need more people like you
Talking to you might even lead to me questioning myself about “What the hell am I doing with my life ?” (Haha)

D: Thats very kind of you.I don’t want to have any regrets looking back on my life.Getting this degree was one of my life goals years ago.I like having time to talk to folks like this on Tumblr. We have so many immensely talented folks here.
I commend your team for what you have accomplished.Thank you for recognizing my voice when I was new here.

Wc: It’s been our pleasure, So what do you like writing about?
I’ve been through your write-ups and what I found that you cover most of the genres, revolving around powerfull message or romance and women and their elegance.

D: I love including nature in my poems – the ocean, moon, seasons. I usually try to pose a question in my poems that I hope to resolve by the end. Half the time, I go on the journey too, bumping along, unsure of what I will find.Themes would include celebration of females, encouraging anyone who feels uncelebrated, writing about storms, cats, emotional pain.Trying to pose, I do write about love a good bit of varied kinds

Wc: So you’re like Christopher Nolan(Director of Inception) of poetry unlike him you actually care about the endings.

D: I am open to whatever ending unfolds as long as it is satisfying. That’s the term I use.★★joke😅

Wc: Why do you like writing, what do you find fascinating about it?

D: I discover myself in the words, what I think about things. I divine my own secrets, anticipate the outcome in fiction before it becomes a reality. A divining stick supposedly leads a person to water. Poetry leads me back to my soul.
Poetry is like a song.The song we want the world to hear if they would take the time to listen, the song we must silence ourselves, even to sing.

Wc: Well that was a rhapsodic answer indeed, pretty deep but inspiring too. There’s definitely a link between words and our soul.
Yeah we agree with you on that, poetry indeed is a song yearning for people's​ attention but sometimes it’s more impactful when you least expect it to be.

D: Yes!! Agreed.
I would be lost without creative writing. Where could we escape when reality feels too intense, when our heart hurts? Writing allows us a chance to turn safely inward and channel pain into art and even fantasy.I don’t know people’s reactions to my write ups. I think they feel my words and how emotional they are to me as a writer, but like teaching, I just put it out there, stand on stage, share these thoughts. How they perceive them, I don’t truly know.That’s the truth. Can we ever know the truth of other’s perceptions of us, our own interpretations do get in the way isn’t it.

Wc: Yeah they do.
Symptoms of a true artist indeed, we and you share the same vision of uplifting writers it feels great that we are not alone in this, it’s really amazing how you think about your students and want provide them a platform where they can express their thoughts freely. We’ve said that before and we’ll say again it’s feels amazing to have people like you among us.

Wc: So any bizarre stories linked with your talent of writing or anything unusual that happened because of it?

D: You expressed my sentiments beautifully. I write poetry to express and connect and to share this love and passion for words with others. We definitely agree.
I don’t know if it is a talent, more than intuition for me. It has led me to some great people and wonderful connections. I really enjoy collaborating with folks when minds meld on an idea.

Wc: Any suggestion you’d like to embark so we can reform writerscreed and fix some of the missing loopholes?

D: Your team does a great job. Opportunities for collaborations amongst poets would be fun, and I would be open to it. Continue with writing prompts for challenges to improve writers.

Wc: Duly noted.
Any fun facts, perhaps a side of you that is less known about or something else ?

D: I’m an avid runner, believe in healthy eating as opposed to taking medicine, enjoy camping, and I studied abroad in England in college.

Wc: Well you are a really an awesome person,
So thats all we have, thank you very much for your time, we really enjoyed talking to you and we were here to interview you and ended up getting insipred instead.
It’s was an absolute pleasure talking to you.

D: I enjoyed our conversation immensely.This was a lot of fun. I look forward to reading your interviews with other writers as well.Thank you!!

6x12 Summary/Review

Where to begin with this episode? Well, for starters it was all about DRAMA. Seriously. And the drama came from the dialogue between characters, not necessarily from the plot.

We start off the episode with an Olitz moment. Olivia is in bed with Fitz at the White House and she is wearing his Navy t-shirt once again (something I was so glad to see). Olivia wakes up momentarily confused about where she is and then rolls over to see a sleeping Fitz. She seems a little startled and uncertain of what to do, so she quietly rolls out of bed leaving him asleep. Now, I was somewhat disappointed that she did this, BUT I can only assume that it has been 24 hours since their make-up session and 1) we don’t know if she and Fitz have talked in the intervening time and 2) it’s probably still a lot for her to take in (being back with Fitz). So, I am going to give her a break for this one…

The next big scene we get is Olivia visiting Papa Pope in the bunker where Fitz has courteously sent breakfast. Right off the bat, Rowan is his usual old self, shutting down Olivia and manipulating her ability to properly communicate by claiming he needs to leave immediately. Seconds later, before Olivia can even respond, Fitz walks in and plants a “good morning/hello” kiss on her lips in front of Papa Pope and, let’s just say, Rowan isn’t happy AT ALL that Fitz has the nerve to do that in front of him (cue the “Mr. Pope, Mr. President” dialogue). After their impromptu argument (which Olivia desperately tries to mediate), Rowan goes to leave, only to realize he cannot. As it turns out, Fitz’s courtesy only extends so far; for him, Rowan is still a prisoner (who could really blame Fitz? The man killed his son, so his irritation/anger is understandable). On a side note, I couldn’t quit grinning at Fitz’s salty af attitude (cue the “do I look like a travel agent?” question) and the fact that he employed his best French accent when noting that Papa Pope could “eat as many of his croissants as he would like”… After realizing that he cannot leave the White House (thanks to Fitz and Olivia), Rowan sits down and pretends to busy himself by reading a newspaper, while Fitz and Olivia remain in the room. Angry that they haven’t left, Rowan turns around, slams his newspaper on the table, and tells them to GET OUT.

Next, we see Abby going through some PTSD-like memories of her recent actions while she is in bed with Leo. Poor Leo takes her unwillingness to talk as a sign that he has done something wrong, to which Abby tries to tell him it isn’t him, only to no avail. We end the scene with an angry Abby storming out of the bedroom, presumably to get dressed for work. This is followed by a scene of Mellie and Ponytail Lady discussing Mellie’s new role as PEOTUS. Mellie presents Ponytail with a list of who she would like in her cabinet and insists that she should be able to pick her advisors, only to have her plan shot down by Ponytail. She is reminded that both Peus and Ponytail have bugged all of her devices and that her new assistant (aka some mysterious woman we have never seen before) will be keeping a close eye on her, should she try anything.

The next big scene that occurs is Olivia’s confrontation with Peus who has conveniently decided to hold his meeting at OPA. Huck, scared for Olivia, refuses to let her be alone with him. The Peus/Olivia meeting is rather interesting. Peus attempts to intimidate Olivia in order to get her to cave to his demands (which include taking Jake off the VP ticket and having Mellie announce that her new VP will be Peus). When Olivia notes that she won’t be bothered so easily, Peus lets her know he has photos of Jake cleaning up Elizabeth North’s dead body and that he will use them, if he finds it necessary. Olivia, realizing that Peus cannot win if he releases the photos, tells him to go ahead and destroy Jake, noting that they will implicate Peus and Ponytail, as well, if exposed. Peus genuinely seems surprised, as if he had not considered the ramifications of that scenario, but bluffs his way out of the situation with more threats. Olivia, realizing she has won this battle, escorts him to her office door and let’s him know she has made it her mission to destroy him.

Meanwhile, Ponytail has coerced Mellie into a meeting at the White House where she will “demand” to use the press briefing room/podium to announce her new VP candidate. Fitz has already been briefed on this situation and just when Ponytail begins making her demands/threats, the scene is interrupted by secret service barging into the room and scooping everyone up, noting that a drone has breached the WH grounds no-fly zone (thanks to Huck who is remotely controlling the device). As the secret service are quickly escorting people down the halls of the WH, Ponytail and Abby are separated from the rest of the group and taken to the bunker. Abby, being the brilliant gladiator that she is, quickly appears to have set this whole situation up with Fitz, Olivia, and OPA so that the team could figure out a way to rescue Mellie. Ponytail, however, is not taking her separation from Mellie well and demands to be let out of the bunker. Abby, playing the “I-am-as-clueless/powerless-as-you” card, tells her to sit down and buckle up because they’re stuck in the bunker for a while.

Upstairs, in the Residence, we see everyone else (Fitz, Olivia, Mellie, Cyrus, Marcus, David, and Jake) has gathered for a meeting to figure out a way to take out Peus/Ponytail. The meeting starts off relatively well (if one discounts a shaken up Mellie), but quickly turns chaotic when Rowan shows up. We discover that Olivia has requested that he be a part of the meeting solely because he has “expertise” in these situations. Unfortunately, the minute Papa Pope shows up, what could have been a normal strategizing session quickly goes to shit, with the tension and drama becoming PALPABLE.

Fitz, who is quite unhappy at having Rowan there in the first place - but has swallowed his anger for Olivia’s sake (seriously, this man has the patience of a saint) - is forced into a disgustingly degrading situation where he must BEG Rowan for help. Rowan, being the manipulative asshole he is, demands that Fitz ask him for help, out loud, in front of everyone else (who, apart from Cyrus, Jake, Olivia, and Mellie) appear a little clueless as to the nature of their hatred towards each other. During this incredibly intense scene, Olivia (knowing and seeing where this is going) tries to get Rowan to stop, but cannot. We see Fitz’s jaw clench and you can almost feel him fighting to not get up and beat the shit out of Rowan right there. Fortunately, whatever the hell Fitz is doing to control his anger works because he ends up asking for help. HOWEVER, Rowan - again being the annoying and manipulative son of a bitch he is - decides that once is not enough and demands AGAIN that Fitz beg him for help. Fitz, fighting his emotions again, caves to Rowan’s “”“request”“”. As if this isn’t enough (I mean the man is literally pleading with his son’s killer to help him) Rowan says that “No” he won’t help Fitz..

Now, when I saw/heard that I was ready to jump through the TV screen and beat the fuck out of Rowan. You DONT force the man who’s son you killed to BEG for you help in front of everyone else only to say no… But, this scene ACTUALLY GOT WORSE!!! Rowan ended up basically calling Olivia a whore in front of EVERYONE and you could hear the gasps/see the jaw drops. He said that the only reason Fitz had him in the WH was so that he could sleep with Olivia again and that Rowan’s safety was nothing more than “another dollar bill at the feet of a stripper”. That “stripper”, he says, is Olivia… On top of that, Rowan made a dig at Fitz’s father and for Fitz that was THE LAST STRAW. He charged towards Rowan like he was gonna beat the shit out of him right there (tbh I wanted him too). The ONLY reason he didn’t was because Jake and David managed to hold him back…

Y'all I was screaming I was so mad. Goddamn that man. I want to see Rowan’s ass killed TF off. He is TOXIC AF for everyone and I mean EVERYONE because as soon as that bombshell was dropped, the whole room erupted into chaos and EVERYONE started arguing/going after each other. Olivia ends up calling for 5 and what should’ve been a comfort moment for her and Fitz turned into Olivia (who was visibly shaken) saying “don’t” and walking out to find some fresh air along with everyone else.

Then we get Cyrus and Rowan drinking in the cellar of the WH. That was interesting for 2 reasons. 1) Cyrus and Rowan almost looked/acted like work colleagues socializing over a glass of wine and 2) Cyrus tried to kill Rowan (too bad he didn’t succeed)… (Interesting tidbit from the setting of that scene though. Apparently Fitz added the cellar to the WH and seems to have stocked it with only wines/scotch 😉).

Anyways, around the time of the Cyrus/Rowan blow up, David and Fitz have a conversation that is just EVERYTHING. David questioned why he always falls in love with women who are like “tornados”, wondering why he couldn’t simply like “normal girls”. Fitz, being the precious bae he is, tells him that when he was younger he would imagine having a perfect and attentive wife who unquestioningly stood in the shadow of her husband, but then realized that it wasn’t what he wanted. He basically said that strong, powerful women, who cause him heartache and pain, are far better because they helped him become the man he is - a better man. So, Fitz says to David, if you love a woman who is like a “tornado” it’s okay because as long as she loves you, she can be as crazy as she wants/needs to be (cue my gross sobbing over his heart-to-heart).

While David and Fitz are bonding over their tumultuous romances with women, Jake and Olivia have a convo and, naturally, it made me want to throw up. The primary reason for this is that Jake tried to weasel his way back into Olivia’s arms via the sympathy card and attempted to entice her with running away again and how Fitz wasn’t good for her, and so on… (Jake give me a fucking break and quit talking BS into Olivia’s ear). Fortunately, Olivia shut that down IMMEDIATELY and let him know he wasn’t welcome to talk to her about that again, noting that she was there to help Mellie, not play the “choose me” game.

Finally, FINALLY we get to the ending of the episode and it’s revealed that the new VP isn’t going to be Cyrus Beene (so much for that unity ticket, though I commend Cyrus for being man enough to voluntarily give it up), but rather Luna Vargas… Now, I am confused as hell as to how tf the writers came up with that, but I’ll take it if it fixes this whole mess. As the episode continues to draw to a close, we see that Quinn and Charlie will be staying together and that though she loves Huck, it’s different from what she feels with Charlie.

For the concluding scene we go back to Abby and Ponytail hanging out in the bunker (still arguing about who’s in control) and then it’s revealed that Abby was duping Ponytail all along (which is not really a surprise at this point). Ponytail is furious that she has been played and naturally starts up with her threats again, but she’s interrupted by Olivia walking through the door… Now, I swear when I saw Olivia walk through those doors in the bunker it gave me flashbacks to that episode where she killed Andrew and for a moment I thought she was going to take a chair to Ponytail. Thankfully, she didn’t. She “kindly” let Ponytail know she had lost and that she would be arrested (cue Olivia’s “You can’t take Olivia Pope. Olivia Pope takes you” quote). Interestingly, Olivia is now saying she’s Mellie’s chief-of-staff, but we’ll have to wait and see how that plays out over the rest of the season.

Overall, I was not too thrilled with this episode, but it did have some good scenes stashed in between the bad ones. That dramatic scene with Rowan and the team still has me shook, but it’s looking like next week’s episode might remedy that (from the preview it looks like Fitz and Olivia are going to realize that working with Rowan is a mistake. Also, poor Fitz is at his wits end I guess because in the preview he grabs Rowan up by the collar quite violently - but who could blame him?). Until then, we will have to wait and see what’s in store for everyone.

buffy/faith: s.u.g.a.r.

Summary: buffy & faith meet in a coffee shop.
for @catty-words! <3
Words: 2k
Read on AO3

Faith shoves the door to the coffee shop open with unnecessary force and strides up to the counter, slapping her hands down on the top of it and flashing a grin at the barista.

The dude takes an immediate step back, like he’s afraid he’ll get cut on her sharp smile.

“Can, I, uh…” he says, stumbling. “Erm. What can I get for you?”

“A hot chocolate.”

“Okay. Anything el—”

“But, like. Fancy shit. Put two espresso shots in there.”

Keep reading

I will take my screwdriver.

Originally posted by steviepinkiepierogers

Originally posted by welcometoplanetrandom

That is probably not what you expected. Bit to be honsest, i regret nothing :D


Steve groaned hearing loud rock music coming from Tony’s science lab. He hided his head in his pillow hoping to block music which made his head throbbing. How in hell Stark got up so early and got to his lab? He would normally sleep at least to noon, and then after half hour of staring at his coffee cup he would decide to drink it and then go to his lab.

Steve looked at clock standing on his bedside table and moaned unhappy. It was 6 in the morning.

He rolled on his back and looked at the ceiling hoping that it was just bad dream. After few minutes he lost his hope and got up, ready to reprimand Stark for his behavior at that early hour, after very hard mission they were only the day before.

Dressed only in his sweatpants, wit out shirt and with are foots he leaved his room, heading right to the source of the music, which was, as he expected, the science lab, not far away from the common room of the Avengers headquarters. Walking through the room he saw Bucky and Natasha, sitting with cups of coffee, already after theirs morning training session. His best friend waved at him with smile. He waved, not really paying attention at anything that wasn’t source of AC/DC Highway to Hell. He heard giggle of Natasha behind him, but payed it no mind.

He get into the lab and immediately turned off the stereo, sighing with delight when it got quiet in the room. His satisfaction didn’t last long, because of loud “The hell you did asshole” coming from behind the shelves. It wasn’t Tony’s voice.

From behind the shelves comes short (h/c) girl with frown on her face dirty from grease in tight white tank top and jeans shorts. He looked her from head to toes, taking in her whole appearance, noticing her torn sneakers. He swallowed hard his saliva looking into her (e/c) eyes, witch beside the color looked just like Tony’s.

“You are going to answer me, or should I push a screwdriver up your ass and turn it until you start to walk as a good little solider on a crank?” He opened his lips slightly, not knowing what to say. Never in his live has he meet girl as mean and pretty by the way as her. “If you are not gonna talk, then I suggest, you turn on my stereo and leave before I will take my screwdriver.” Still stunned, Steve turn on the stereo and left the lab.

He get into the common room with big eyes, still not knowing what just happened. He looked at Natasha who were laughing really hard.

“I see you met (y/n).” She said when she finally calmed down.

“W-who is this girl?” He looked behind him at the girl who were working on one of Tony’s latest project, as if she was in her own home, jumping slightly to music, and occasionally waving her head to the rhythm, making her (h/c) hair to get on her face and into her mount and eyes. Who the hell she was?!

“It’s (y/n).” Said Tony coming into the kitchen and pouring himself a coffee, clearly not happy of being woken up so early. He looked at Steve, and sighed seeing confusion still written on his face. “My sister? The world numero uno in science and mechanics, at least in women category? Really? Noting? I told you all yesterday that she is stopping by, to have a little Tet-a-Tet with my lab.” Steve was looking at Tony as if he had just told him, that elephants are flying. Stark sighed and rubbed his face. “That’s how you are listening to what I’m saying.”

“You have sister?” Tony shoot his hands up.

“No it’s my brother, don’t pay attention to boobs, it’s family thing. Yes, I have a sister, her name is (y/n) and if I see any of you closer than five meters from her, I’m personally gonna kick your ass.” Steve nodded slowly, still trying to wrap his mind around the though that Howard Stark had not one, but two kids and that they both were extremely rude…

“Antony, if you drank whole coffee, could you please make some more?”

“Of course (y/n/n).” Correction. Extremely rude for him. He looked at the girl who get out of the lab and sat on the couch next to Natasha, introducing herself to Bucky. He looked at Tony, who were making more coffee at the kitchen island. After a while go comes closer to him, leaning at one of the chairs.

“Is she staying for long?” Tony just shrugged his shoulder.

“As long as she want. She was in Asia for quite a while, and don’t have a place to go.” Blonde nodded again and looked at the girl. She was pretty, even beautiful, but she was acting just like her brother, or at least he observed it so far.

“Alright. I don’t want to sound mean, but who the hell are you, and why are you looking at me?” She turned around to look Steve right into eyes. Super Solider quickly looked at his feet, feeling blush appearing on his face. She raised her eyebrow. “Is he mute, deaf or just really stupid?” Tony rolled his eyes, coming to her and giving her cup of coffee.

“It’s Steve, or Captain America as you want. He is just really shy little girl in ‘grow men’ body.” (y/n) made sound that she understand what her brother had just told her.

“So this is the infamous Captain I-have-broom-im-my-ass America.”

“Language!” tony reprimand he satirically, which made both of them laugh. Steve groaned, sitting at the kitchen island. He got a felling that this is going to be really long visit. Bucky stood from his spot on the couch and get to his best friend.

“You two would be a sweet couple.” He whispered on his ear and laughed at the face his friend made.


Three months of being woken up on six in the morning by loud rock music later, Steve found himself looking at every move (y/n) made with lovesick puppy eyes and stupid smile on his face every time she talked to him.

It started innocently. Waking up on early morning hour, Steve would get up from his bed and go to the kitchen, where he make coffee and pour it to (f/c) cup with flowers and give to her. First few times it wasn’t pleasant. Wherever he come into the lab, you would throw daggers at him if he was to close to your stereo, calming down only when he would put her coffee on the desk. After three or four days of that, she started to smiled at him and thanked him for it.

Before he know it, Steve was looking forward the rare occasions of where she wasn’t in the lab. Instead of this, she would sit in the armchair, with cup of cinnamon-orange tea, in the oversized (f/c) sweater, leggings, and fluffy socks on her feet, with hair wet after the shower, sticking to her face, slightly parted lips and book in her hand. He would then sit on the sofa, pretending to read a newspaper in his hands, but really looking at her with affection in his eyes and blush, every time she looked up and smiled at him.

Of course, Bucky saw it first, and immediately informed Natasha about it. And then started their teasing and jokes of his behavior from them. They started to mess with him, occasionally asking (y/n) of her opinion of his hair or clothes, which she commented in her Stark-sarcastic way, making him blush every time.

“I bet a tenner that before Steve confess his feelings for (y/n/n), she will be long married with at least two children, big house with white fence and dog… named Steve.” Bucky said, placing money on the coffee table. Natasha nodded her head slightly, and she put the same amount of money next to Bucky’s.

“I say, he will do it after she get old, buried her husband AND Steve-the-dog, and decide to marry again, this time with cybernetically programmed butler of her second son.” Steve groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

“Could you guys give me a brake? And where the hell you two get an idea of her naming dog Steve?” He looked at them, but quick looked at the lab doors, which opened. (y/n) walk into the kitchen and poured herself some tea.

“Hey (y/n), if you would have a dog, how will you name him?” At Bucky’s question she looked up, thinking for a while before looking at him with grin.

“Steve.” Both assassins laughed, while super solider blushed and put his forehead on the table top. (y/n)’s smile only grew bigger and she sat with them. “Why you ask?”

“Because Steve…” said man looked hard at his friend who just smiled. “Didn’t believe us that you would name that dog.” She giggled.

“I will, just to mess up with him. OK, I have to get back to work. When you see Sam and Wanda, tell them that I will go to the shop first thing in the morning, and ask them what they wanted.”
“Sure thing, doll.” She kissed Bucky on the check and went to the lab. Steve looked at his friend with fake betrayal on his face. He just smiled like a cat that got cream and patted Natasha on the shoulder. “Come on, we have a training session. Let’s leave Mr. too-scared-to-act, alone.” Redhead nodded standing and going after him, waving to Steve, who just groaned again and started to hit his head on the table.

“Could you stop? You are devastating my beautiful table.” He looked at older of the Stark sibling.

“Tony, can I as you something?”

“Whatever you say, I’m not borrowing you my car.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“It’s about (y/n).”

“You are not dating her.” Said Tony and started to read his newspaper.

“What are you…?”
“I’m not stupid capsicle. I know how are you looking at her, and no, you can’t date her.”

“I believe it’s not your choice.”

“And yet you are asking me about it. Listen Steve.” Tony looked at him, putting his paper down. “I know what kind of men you are and no. I will not let you be with her, simple because I don’t trust you enough to protect her. She is my sister, and I will do everything to make sure, nothing will never happened to her. And you are… you. You are good man, but not for her.” Steve felt as his heart stopped for a moment.

“So you don’t trust me, that I will keep her have?” Tony raised his eyebrow.

“I just know you, and I know that if something will seem more important for you than her, then you will choose that thing instead of her. And I can’t let that happened.” They looked in each other eyes for a while, before Steve opened his mouth.

“Nothing will be more important than her.”
“You say it now. No one knows what will happen.” Stark stood up and toke his newspaper. “You may try, but if you will hurt her, you will not come out of it alive.” With that he left Steve, who sighed.


Next morning Steve woke up to almost unnatural silence in the building. First, he thought that he got deaf. He looked at the clock. It was half past six. He furrowed his brow and got up, dressing quickly and going to common room, where stood almost whole team, with out Tony, who were in the lab.

“What’s going on?”
“Oh, sleeping beauty is awake. Good. (y/n)’s missing.”

“Wasn’t she suppose to go to the store?”

“She canceled it yesterday evening, when she found out that Sam was at the store.” Steve furrowed his brow. If she wasn’t at the lab, nor in her armchair, then where were she?

“Redwing found something.” Sam announced, going to the direction of where his droid was.

At the garden, right behind the building were signs of a struggle. Steve felt as if some cold hand dug through his skin and grabbed his stomach. He crouched down and looked at the ground.

“Natasha, go and check monitoring record. Sam, you Bucky and T'challa are going to check whole terrain around. Look for everything and report to me immediately when you found something, anything that will tell us, where she could possibly be. Vision check lab, if there is any clue. And Wanda go look in her room.” Everyone looked at Steve in shock. His tone was cola and face hard, just as his eyes. He looked at everyone. “Now!” They got to their quest at hand immediately. He rubbed his face and looked at Tony. “You should check your mail. There is possibility that someone kidnapped her for ransom.”

“Yeah, come.” They get inside, going to Tony’s office.

After almost three hours, Natasha got into the room with wide eyes. Both men looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“I checked records. You should see that.” She got to Tony’s computer and put pendrive into USB point. “hmm… there.” She showed them the record of (y/n) being attacked and kidnapped by three man, dressed all in black. Tony furrowed his eyebrows.

“I know who they are.” He got up and went to his closed where he kept his armor. “They will not want any ransom. They will kill her. Call everyone. We have to go.”


Whole team landed at the forest near the big abandoned hangar, where (y/n) were held hostage. Carefully, they neared building, carefully, not to disclose themselves. Steve felt uneasy. He was nearly sure that there should be some guards, but everything were quiet, without any sighs of anyone.

When they got into the building, they stopped dead on their track, seeing nearly twenty man laying cold on the ground. Everyone was thinking the same think. What the heck happened here?! After a moment, they snapped back to reality, tearing sound from one of the rooms near them.

When they opened doors, ready to fight with whoever was in there, they stopped shocked, seeing (y/n), in her pajama from night before, sitting on top of the table with jars of peanut butter and jam next to her and with sandwich in her hand. She looked up and them and smiled happily.

“There you are. Good for you, I would turn your lives into living hell, if I would have to come home on foot.” She bite her meal and chewed on it, waving her legs. She stopped seeing their eyes staring at her. “What? I have something on my face?”

“What the fuck happened here?” She laughed at Natasha.

“I did not tall you that I am a badass?”

“You beat them? There is like twenty of them!” She jumped to the ground and throw your half eaten sandwich behind you.

“Twenty one to be exact. Yeah. I am trained badass.” She grinned. Steve was looking at her in ave before he dropped his shield and get to her, taking her cheeks in hands and kissing her.

It took her a while to proceed what is going on, but when she get whats going on, she quickly pulled off of him and knocked him out. She whipped her lips and looked at the rest of them.

“If anyone who isn’t Leonardo DiCaprio will do it again, I’m gonna kill you.” She pushed between them and went to the main doors. Everyone laughed, and Bucky bro-fisted Natasha.

“I forgot to tell him, that she will be the one who will kill him.” Tony said with smile, going after his sister. “Can someone pick Steve up?”

An Old Flame

Soda runs into an old crush when she began tutoring Ponyboy.

Requested by an anon.

With his jacket slung over his shoulder, Soda made his way home, enjoying the briskness of the late fall air while he walked. He had a very enjoyable work day for once, he was actually in a good mood. The sky was bright blue as if it was portraying his feelings, making Soda feel more at ease, like everything today was going to be relaxing and enjoyable.

Enthusiastically he pounded up the steps to his house, anticipating doing nothing for the remainder of the day. Soda slid his work shirt off and opened the door with just his undershirt on, already preparing to take a shower. The door closed behind him and he shuffled to the bathroom, shutting the door and getting in the shower.

He was done within fifteen minutes and dried off then wrapped the towel around his waist as he always did. Grabbing his dirty clothes he reopened the door and stepped out into the main part of the house, freezing as he made eye contact with a blushing red Pony. Soda’s eyes wandered to Pony’s right and his cheeks suffered from the same redness that Pony’s did.

Sitting there wide eyed next to his brother was a girl from Soda’s class in high school. Not just any girl though, of course it had to be the one that Soda had a crush on since…since he couldn’t even remember when. Everything about her always enticed him and whenever she was close to him he had to take a look at her just to remind himself how cute she was. Since he dropped out he didn’t see her at all so her showing up at his dining table was quite a bit of a shock.

Pony was the one who broke the silence, clearing his throat before forcing out a small and annoyed, “Sodaaa!”

Breaking from the momentary awkwardness Soda rushed to their shared room and dressed quickly, trying to shake himself out of the embarrassment he just experienced. It had to be her of all people to see him practically nude. When he came out he apologized and asked what she was doing there. Between her and Pony they explained that she was there to tutor Pony and she’d be there everyday after school so they could avoid another scene like the one that just occurred.

From then on Soda walked home quicker and cherished the weekdays that he had off, anticipating her coming over. He always offered to get the door when she knocked and often times he sat across from them while they studied, pretending to read the newspaper. Every time her voice flowed through the air he felt a pang of want rush through him.

They would make small talk when Pony left the table, but it only left Soda wanting more, so one day when Pony wasn’t feeling well, Soda neglected to tell her they wouldn’t be able to study. When she showed up, Soda answered the door as usual but today with a frown as he explained his brother was sick.

About to turn away, Soda stopped her, “Well, maybe, I can get you some dinner instead?”

Much to his approval, she agreed and they went to the local diner, sharing a milkshake while they ate. Eventually, the topic of their past came up.

“So, why did you leave school, Soda?”

He shrugged, sick and tired of answering the question, but responded anyways, “Just wasn’t for me. But you’re smart, you probably wouldn’t understand.”

“Why? Just cause I get good grades means I don’t struggle?” She pouted softly.

Soda blushed lightly and looked down, “M’Sorry.”

“I miss seeing you in school though,” she admitted rather sheepishly.

In a moment of courage Soda decided to blurt out, “I still think about you a lot.”

“Think about me? Why?”

“I’ve always kinda liked you, (Y/N).”

“Oh god. Soda…you really like a girl like me?”

With a reassuring nod he smiled and leaned closer to her over the table.

“Well, I like you too,” she admitted blushing.

So I have a headcanon that over the course of the summer Stan slowly but surely, becomes enamored with the cartoons Mabel watches. (I mean he’s a huge fan of Ducktective, and we see how he becomes emotionally involved with the Dutchess Approves). Every time he walks by the tv where she is watching it, he absorbs more and more weird details. Until he is eventually pretending to read the newspaper, but peaking over it to see how the episode ends because- oh no the pony pals have to overcome their differences and use the pony pal power of friendship to save the day right?? Until one day Candy, Grenda and Mabel are all arguing about theories about the show and Stan just blurts out “That’s obviously not gonna happen! Evil Prince Dunkoroo hasn’t even stolen all of the Friendship Power Crystals!  Er, I mean… *cough* (but it’s too late and all the girls squeal and tackle him. and then later they all watch the new episode together and Mabel makes Stan a Pony Pals sweater which he wears secretly) 

Adam Milligan- Hallucinations

Title: Hallucinations

Pairings: Adam Milligan x Winchester sister

Word count:1152

Summary: Imagine being Sam and Dean’s little sister (and Adam’s half sister) that suffers with hallucinations. The brothers tie up Adam in Bobby’s house to stop him from saying yes to the angels and find out that Adam is the only one who can help stop your hallucinations. 

Today had been the weirdest day of your life.

You had hunted demons, taken on what you couldn’t even imagine and so on…but this?

Tying your half brother to Bobby’s chair so he doesn’t agree to let angels possess him and try to start the apocalypse… little weird.

You and Bobby were in his back room, waiting for Sam and Dean to give you the all clear but Dean didn’t trust Adam so he was currently hand cuffing him to Bobby’s chair.

You had only met Adam once but turns out it wasn’t Adam…yeah, another weird story for another day. Adam knew who you all were but he wasn’t that phased, maybe because you tied him up.

Sam, Dean and Bobby were all going out to search for any new hints that could help them but Dean was reluctant to leave you on your own.

You sat in Bobby’s chair, Adam a few seats away from you as he held a strop on his face.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay. What if you have a hallucination’‘Dean fretted, his eyes whipping to Sam.

’'Dean. I’ll be fine. If I hallucinate the worst I’ll do is curl up in a ball and cry’'You joked but saw the look on Sam’s face and stopped. Adam gave you a surprised look that you pretended not to see when he heard about the hallucinations.

His eyes had softened and he seemed a little more relaxed but didn’t give out anything. Dean had finally agreed to go and told you they wouldn’t be long.

You read the newspaper article, well…pretending to read since you could only feel the guilt swimming in your chest for how Adam felt. You turned around, ignoring the butterfly of guilt lurching up in your stomach as you faced him.

’'Are you hungry?’'You whispered softly, eyeing him. He looked up, his blue orbs meeting yours as he kept on his pissed expression and shook his head before turning away.

You turned back around, taking in slow breaths when you felt the guilt start to creep further up. The guilt had trigger your hallucinations as blood start to form on your hands.

You shuffled back, eyes wide and watery as you held your wrists up to your face. A sound clawed its way out the back of your throat, your chest rising and falling quickly. The chair fell over as you stood up hastily.

Adam looked up with a shocked expression, his eyes rolling over your contorted and pain filled face.

’'What? What is it?’'Adam panicked, tugging on his restraints. You backed away, staring at your hands as you fell into the corner and started to cry.

Adam watched you with a soft expression, his heart hammering against his chest as he tugged again. He hissed through clenched teeth when he felt them burn at his wrists.

You don’t know how but he had managed to get free. You felt a presence kneeling down in front of you before a warm hand cupped your cheek and lifted up your head.

’'Hey. What’s wrong?’'Adam whispered, his eyes boring into yours. ’'Speak to me”

“M-my ha-hands. Th-there’s blood and I-I c-can’t get it- I c-ca-won’t come o-off’'You whimpered, your voice breaking and stuttering out in pain.

Adam’s eyes fell to your hands. He saw nothing but he remembered about what Dean and Sam had said.

’'That’s okay. We’ll get it off. Come on’'Adam smiled gently, standing up and holding out his hand. You stared at him for a while before standing up and grabbing his hand.

’'I-I got b-blood on your h-hand’'You hiccuped, tears still falling from your eyes. Adam titled his head to look down at you as he gave you another warm smile.

’'That’s okay, bud. I’m sure we’ll get it off’'He smiled, helping you into the kitchen. He gently grabbed your shoulders and moved you so you were standing in front of him.

Adam reached over and turned on the tap before easing his hands over yours and pulling them into the warm water. He rubbed your hands under the water, allowing his to get wet too so you could see you weren’t alone. He reached over and grabbed the soap, pouring some between your palms and began to massage the soap between your fingers and into all the cracks and dips.

He felt your back stutter off his chest as you cried, his heart reaching out to you but remained calm.

’'I-It’s not c-coming off’'You whimpered, stumbling back. Adam quickly steadied your body with his leg before wrapping his arms a little tighter around you.

’'Ah, we probably need more soap then’'He hummed, amazing himself at how calm and collected he was being when he was really freaking out on the inside. He squirted more soap into your palm before repeating the action and then gently easing both your hands under the luke warm water.

’'See, do you see it coming off, bud?’'Adam whispered coaxingly. He held his breath as he waited for you answer, praying he wasn’t just making it worse.

He sighed and relaxed when you nodded, your cries lessening and fading to hiccups and sniffles. You watched as it fled down the drain and turned to clear water and both your hands were free of blood.

Adam reached over and turned off the tap, grabbing the towel next to him as he knelt down so he could dry your hands. He was concentrating on his hands, not looking at you as you watched him with admiration and gratefulness.

Adam finally dried his own hands before he gently dabbed at your tear soaked cheeks and threw the towel on the side. Still kneeling he offered you a smile before standing up.

Adam ran his fingers through your hair, gently coaxing out the knots before he turned his head to see your brothers looking at him with a amazed look.

Adam’s guard fell up as he stumbled back, ready to run.

’'Hey. It’s okay. We’re not gonna tie you back up’'Sam smiled sincerely, holding his palms up in defence.

”(Y/n), why don’t you help Bobby get the boxes out the Impala’'Dean suggested offering you a smile as he nodded his head towards the door.

You rushed out to help Bobby, not noticing that Adam had returned back to his moody self now that you weren’t around.

“Don’t stress about it, she has that impact on everyone. You can try to hate her but you won’t last long’'Dean chuckled.

Adam gave a small smile before dropping it and glaring back at his brothers.

’'How did you do that? You know we’ve been trying to help her with hallucinations for ages, no one’s ever been able to stop them’'Sam gaped at him.

Adam felt pride over take him as his eyes softened at the thought of you. He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

’'I’ve just always wanted a little sister”

May Fic Rec Round-up, Part II

Agree to Disagree by out_there

Yaaas! Eggsy x Roxy BrOTP forever!

This fic perfectly captures the platonic yet sometimes teasing tone of their friendship. What I loved:

1. All the snarking!

“Oh, hey, Eggsy! It’s your type. Two o’clock.”

Eggsy kept a calm grip on the newspaper he was pretending to read and flicked his gaze across. White, male, average height with wispy white hair that revealed a bald spot when the wind picked up, and an off the rack suit that pulled tightly across his paunch. “How is that my type?”

“Old, fastidious, boring? Probably used to being called grandpa?”

2. Roxy being a good wingman.

“I’m flying to Frankfurt in the morning and scaling the outside of a ridiculously tall building,” Roxy said, leaning across to steal a few crisps from Eggsy’s packet. “If I can do that, you can ask Harry out again.”

3. All of their conversations- the catching up, commiserating over Not!Old!But!Oblivious!Harry- take place while they do badass spy stuff.

Shore Leave at Cornwall by FreshBrains

V-shaped poly relationships are rare in this fandom, and this story is a welcome addition. Not only is this fic hot as hell, but it also features some very interesting relationship dynamics, particularly between Merlin and Harry. All in all, a lovely, intimate story with indelible imagery, including: new Kingsman gadgets; Eggsy splayed across the sheets like a pin-up; and Merlin giving Harry and Eggsy instructions in bed. Ooh la la. ;-)

Now Let’s Play a Little Game by INMH

This is fantastic. Hilarious with great banter, and I really enjoyed the characterization of Merlin. Here he’s sneaky and cheeky and out to game the system in the best possible way.

Son by Cimila

It’s weird because I love my Hartwin porn, but I also absolutely adore this fic.

I have a soft spot for the family of choice trope, and Harry’s gradual realization that he sees Eggsy as his surrogate son (and his subsequent mortification- how dare he presume to feel that way toward Eggsy!) was touching to read. Eggsy’s reciprocation of his feelings  made me so happy- he has finally found the father figure he deserves.

Take What You Can by Tibby

Interesting character study of Harry. This fic takes that memorable one-liner in the church, fleshes it out, and builds a backstory around it. There are also some lovely lines, including:

After all, for as long as the two of them had shared their lives, Mr. Pickles had been a constant reminder that whatever love Harry Hart held, if it was asked of him, he would kill it dead.

     Eyes bore into the back of his head almost painfully. He’d been under a microscope for weeks, it was getting old. He couldn’t escape it, even with how surprisingly easy it was to give SHIELD the initial slip. Staying out of their grips, though? That was a little harder, especially in a city like this. Which is why his paranoia was out of whack and the fact that this someone was not so subtly watching him had him pushed to the ledge of the cliff.

     Not that he could prove this person was out for him. He figured they’d have a protocol to clear the streets when they’d eventually find and collect him – this person made no sudden movements and didn’t give off any sign that they were hostile. 

     He was, though. He wasn’t going back. He didn’t want to be a director, he didn’t want the responsibility of a world he knew nothing about. He couldn’t.

     “If you’ve got a problem, we can step outside, pal.” Howard said as he finally looked up from the newspaper he’d been pretending to read.

It’s late in January, and much colder than it had been even during Christmas and New Year. There’s frost in the air on Monday morning, the path is icy on Tuesday, and by Wednesday when Mr. Graves returns home, little flakes of snow make their way in past the threshold while Graves gives Credence his coat to hang. Graves tells Credence that the snow is likely to get heavier tonight, best to wrap up warm, asks if the house elves have set out another thick blanket for Credence’s bed yet.

For Credence, there’s never been a year in which snow has brought anything but a feeling of terror to the young man’s heart. Just the promise of terribly chapped skin, numb and aching joints, constant shivering and chattering teeth.

This year, this time, Credence often finds himself saying to himself, is different.

Mr. Graves builds up a large fire every evening when he returns from work, and therefore, Credence realises, he always smells like firewood and smoke, his evening cigars and perhaps a little like Firewhiskey (Credence doesn’t say anything, keeps it to himself, thinks about it a lot). His blankets are more downy and soft and warm than he could have ever rightly dreamed of before, his meals hot and served regularly three times a day. Credence had had some trouble with that concept at first, had hidden food just in case, had expected it all to be cruelly taken away from him in a moment. Graves never did that, never mentioned Credence sneaking food away, had only assured him there was more and it was alright now. He knows now that there are times when Graves expects him to eat, knows he asks the house elves to keep an eye out, tells Credence he’s allowed to snack in between, always allowed to ask for more.

Anyway, on January the 24th, when snow falls thickly for the first time that year, in the wee hours of the morning, Credence wakes up with something he recognises as childish joy instead of a bone-deep cold. His brain working quickly to imagine how he might persuade Mr. Graves out for a walk in the park with him - still isn’t comfortable going out alone, likes the solid feel of his Graves there with him - perhaps stroll to the bakery on the corner, or to the roasted chestnut vendor. Maybe when they return, Credence could make a cup of coffee for Mr. Graves, a hot chocolate for himself, and they could watch the snow together from the warmth of the back room which looks out onto their little garden. Graves would pretend to read the sporting section of the newspaper, and Credence would pretend to read his book, they both might accidentally meet eyes when gazing at the other but neither would say anything.

Yes, certainly, this year is different.

One thing in particular that Credence can’t believe is that, in letting himself hope, in letting himself dream he might enjoy such things, they often happen as if by magic. Mr. Graves asks him if he’d like a walk, he holds onto Credence tightly down their front stairs, puts Credence’s hand in the crook of his elbow afterwards. Credence has an almost-disaster when he slips on some nasty ice, Graves is lightning quick in catching his hand before he falls, and concerns himself for close to ten minutes that Credence is okay, no they don’t need to return home, no I haven’t twisted my ankle Mr. Graves, no I don’t want to be carried, thank you.

Upon arriving home, Graves gently suggests that Credence might make them a warm drink, and bring it to the back room as Graves lays some more logs on the fire. What Credence returns to he never quite expected, firstly, there is a small plate of his favourite raspberry and custard tarts sitting on the table which he’s very excited about. Secondly, a mysterious package has appeared and is sitting on his preferred seat, wrapped in a rich red tissue paper. Credence looks at Graves, who has lifted his eyes from the newspaper to look at him, he nods towards the package,

“Don’t tell anyone I’ve been giving you presents so soon after Christmas, they’ll think I’ve gone soft,” Mr. Graves winks at him. 

Credence goes to the parcel, and with shaky fingers carefully peels apart the tissue paper. He doesn’t know why he never gets used to Graves’ kindness, this might not even be the twentieth or so present Graves has given him, excluding how he spoilt Credence at Christmas, but Credence doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this man’s generosity.

It’s a scarf, one Credence had greedily spied in Wizarding Vogue the other week, had wistfully thought of how the silky royal blue looked like woven magic with the gold swirls adorning it. Had coveted it shamefully. About to refuse, trembling a little at the thought, Credence hadn’t realised that Graves has put aside his paper, has leaned forward to take the scarf from Credence’s numb fingers, and is now carefully looping it around the boy’s neck, tucking it in at the base of his neck.

“Silly of me not to have given it to you before our walk, do forgive me, Credence.”

Graves sits himself back down into his chair, ruffles his papers about to find his place, and shucks his boots off to warm his toes by the fire. Credence runs a hand over the fabric of the scarf, as soft and magical as he had imagined. Stares at the floor for a moment, nervously flicking his eyes towards Graves who’s pretending not to have noticed Credence’s silence, how the boy’s fingers are now twisting together nervously, how he’s rolling up and down on the balls of his feet.

Credence bends down a little, leans into Graves’ space, and chastely presses a kiss to the side of a stubbly cheek, quietly murmuring a “thank-you, Mr. Graves,“ before finding his own place, tucking his feet up under him, and nibbling his favourite raspberry and custard tarts. This year is wonderfully different.


Alright, this is my second imagine (WOOHOO I MADE IT THIS FAR) please have mercy on me and I hope you like it! SORRY IF IT’S AWFUL I MADE IT IN A RUSH!

I’m tagging @shayara @whoaheather @badassladysif @nerdylizabeth @notsofastmaximoff @abvwvlson @emmcfrxst @tomhollahd @quicksxlvers because i love them all! I love you guys!

‘Hey bastard this store is already closed oh wait you’re hot never mind please do come in’ AU + Peter Maximoff

You sighed and looked at the clock for the billionth time today. Your mother forced you to get a job after  you miserably failed three tests in a row, and she told you “it would be great practice for future careers.” Oh please, how did helping old women with their groceries help you do something worthwhile in the future?

Your coworkers were long gone, probably off to a party or just going to bed. You thought about what you were going to do when you got home to pass the time and took out a snack. At least your mom had the decensy to give you something to eat.

Finally, after 30 long minutes of torture, your shift was over and you could go home to your soft and fluffy bed. Just the thought made you sleepy and you yawned, stretching your arms and getting up to lock the doors and put the closed sign up.

But just as you were about to close the main door, an idiot suddenly appeared, knocking on the glass door.

“Hey bastard, this store is already closed,” You opened the door a tad bit to yell at the unwelcome stranger, but when you got a better look at their face, all thoughts of closing the store disappeared. “Oh wait, nevermind you’re hot, do come in!”

He smiled as you opened the door fully this time, and you swear you died a little by the small gesture.

The boy took off his hood to reveal shiny silver hair and hot damn. He was cuter than you thought.

“Thanks for letting me in! I was going to go to the other store across the street, but it was closed and this one was open so yeah.” He said rapidly and you almost didn’t catch what he said.

Pull yourself together, Y/N. It’s just a really, really cute boy.

“I’m Peter, nice to meet you!” His words snapped you out of your trance, and you gave him your hand.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you too! So, are you getting anything?” You asked politely, not wanting to be rude. As much as you wanted to talk to this guy more, you also wanted to go home and sleep.

“Oh, yeah! I just remembered why I came here. Sorry for making you stay later.” Peter apologized, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s totally fine!” You reassured him, going back to your chair.

He went off to the candy aisle and you hid your face behind a newspaper as you stared at him. God, he was cute. He seemed like a nice guy too. Peter.

You yelped when he saw you staring and you went back to pretending to read the newspaper about some athlete who won a race. He chuckled and went back to grabbing what he needed.

After a few more minutes, Peter came back with a massive pile of Twinkie boxes and sweets. He smiled awkwardly, ready to pay for the sugary treats.

You smiled to yourself and scanned the items. Too bad you might never see him again.

“H-Hey, do you have a boyfriend?” Peter asked nervously, his fingers playing with the buttons of his silver jacket.

“No, I’m single.” You smiled and screamed inside. Calm down, Y/N, he’s still here.

“Oh, okay.”  He responded. Cue awkward silence. Damn it.

You finished scanning all his items and placed them all neatly in a plastic bag. “Here you go! Have a nice day. Well, night.”

“Thanks, you too!” Peter smiled at you and waved as he walked out the glass doors.

Sighing, you looked down and put your coat on. Oh well, it was nice to meet him.

But then you noticed something. A small little white piece of paper lied patiently next to the cash register, which you were sure wasn’t there a moment ago.

Curiously, you picked up the note and flipped to the other side.

Call me
*insert random phone number here*

You grinned and danced around the store, indifferent to the fact that someone might be watching. You went home that night, a smile permanently etched on your face.

Imagine for gred-forge

Would you be willing to write a George Weasley x Reader imagine? One where George and the reader grew up competing with each other constantly, almost hating each other. Then, one day, George said something a bit too personal to the reader and it really upset them. After he saw them super upset he felt awful then, over the next week, really began admiring the reader?

Hope I did your adorable prompt some justice and I hope you like it! :)

You and George were born at the same time, on the same day, in the same hospital, so naturally everything else in your lives was a competition from then on. At age 3 George was flying, so were you, but you were flying with a bat in your hand hitting all the bludgers coming your way. So when George got the position as beater, along with Fred, in year 2 you were crushed. “I mean, you had to have known that we were going to make them team before you did, we are a dynamic duo. Why would they split us up?” George said to you when you while walking back up to the Gryffindor dorms after the team had been announced. He always said stuff like this to you whenever he had “won”, but then again, you did the same thing to him whenever you beat him. From the outside point of view it would seem that you two hated each other, and for the most part, you somewhat did. “Well I’m going to laugh when you take a bludger to the head first game and they put me in for you.” You say smirking then turning to the right toward the girls’ dormitories. That Saturday you showed up to the match decked out in Gryffindor gear to see George fail, but hopefully your house win. As soon as the team was on their brooms and the quaffle was released, something didn’t feel right. You had a strange feeling that something bad was going to happen, but you didn’t know what. 2 hours later with Gryffindor in the lead with 100 points and Ravenclaw close behind with 80, the “something bad” happened. George was knocked off his broom and into the air. He was moving out of the way of the Gryffindor seeker, but he didn’t see the Ravenclaw chaser and he was hit off his broom. Everyone in the stands went silent and the match was paused as everyone heard the thump of his body hit the ground. He wasn’t very high up, but he still hit the ground hard enough for something to break. George was taken off the field and to the infirmary while the game proceeded with Gryffindor one beater short. Luckily the game ended around 10 minutes later with the snitch caught by Gryffindor. Just what you had said; George hurt, yet your house still took the win. You ran straight down to the field to congratulate Fred and the rest of the team. “Congrats on winning your first match! You played great!” You said once reaching the twin you weren’t in competition with. “Thanks, can’t say the same for George though. Lets go check on him; he landed hard. I’m pretty sure something is broken.” Fred had a worried look on his face as he grabbed your arm and lead you both off the field. Once you were in the castle and by George’s side, the guilt started to kick in. You felt as though what you said had caused this. Maybe what you said got into his head and distracted him? Had you some how caused your competition to fail? Siting there while he was unconscious you had sometime to think about this and everything leading up to it. Why were you so competitive with him? Was it because he was cute and you wanted to impress him? “Well, I certainly didn’t impress him by doing this.” You thought as you sat there. George woke up a few hours later after Fred had mentioned something about replacing him with Percy. “You could never replace me with that nagging, boring toss-pot.” Said George with a groggy voice and fluttering eyes. Yep, you were competing with him because he was cute. But why compete with the one you wanted? “This was so stupid,” you thought “I’m done fighting with him.”   “(Y/N)?” George’s voice brought you out of your thoughts. “Yeah! Look I’m really sorry about what I said. I never thought it would actually happen, I feel ter-“ you started to say, but he cut you off “You’re not sorry. You don’t care. You probably jinxed my broom or the snitch or something so that I would fall off and get hurt. Well I’m fine. Madam Pomfrey says that I’ll be fine to play next match. So I guess Gryffindor will never have to witness your terrible playing. You could never be as good as me, why do you keep trying? Huh (Y/N)? Why?” He was leaning close to your face and yelling at you but you weren’t going to show him that his words hurt. You kept you face straight and said in a whisper “Because you started, it you arse.” You stood up and started walking out. You stopped in front of Fred and handed him the quiditch robes you were given in case you needed to be put in for George in the next match. George was left shocked. You were right, he had started this, and he never even had a reason for it. He just thought that since you both were born at the same time, that one of you needed to be better. Now that he was thinking about it again, it sounded stupid. Why was he so intent on beating you at everything? Could it be that you were cute and he was trying to impress you? “I didn’t do a very good job of that, now did I?” The next morning when he was released from the care of Madam Pomfrey he went straight to the Great Hall to look for you at breakfast. When he walked in he looked up and down all the tables and found your bright and shining face nowhere. All through the day he never found you, not even in the classes you shared. There was no way you could be sick, because he would’ve seen you in the infirmary when he left that morning. That night he asked the other girls in your year if you were in you room, but all of them said they haven’t seen you since you got up and left early this morning. “Freddy, you gotta help me find her. I messed up. I didn’t mean to say that.” George pleaded with his older look-a-like. “Look George, I’m not helping you. I’ve been telling you ever since we were 6 that this wasn’t going to end well and you never took my advice then.” Fred said looking up from the newspaper he was pretending to read to get away from George’s constant pestering. “Fine then, I’ll find her without you.” George said with a pompous tone as he headed out to the quiditch fields to fly around and clear his head a bit. After grabbing his broom from the shed he noticed someone else on the field with the quiditch equipment chest. They were playing with a practice bludger, throwing it away from them and then hitting it hard when it came back around. They did this all while flying around the field, doing flips on their broom and not moving the bat until the last second. George hoped this wasn’t one of the beaters from Hufflepuff or Slytherin. They were good, too good to play against. “Coming up, don’t hit!” He called as he mounted his broom and flew up into the air of dusk. As he rose higher to meet the beater he saw that it was you. “I don’t know, I feel like I should hit you.” It came out terse, course and dry. You hadn’t talked at all that day, you mostly cried, and screamed a couple times, this was the first time you had spoken since you last called George an arse. When the bludger came back around you suck out your arm and grabbed it with your hand just before it had the chance to hit your head. “Look (Y/N),” George was shy to spit it out. He scratched the back of his head as he looked down at his broom handle and the sky and everywhere but your eyes. “I’m sorry about what I said. About you never being able to beat me. Truth is, you’re probably better than me.” He said with a slight chuckle finally managing to look at you. Anyone could see that you had been crying, your eyes were red and puffy. The rest of your face was wet from sweat and flushed light pink, partly due to the complement from George, but mostly because you had been out on the pitch all day. “I’ve looked for you all day and couldn’t find you. Where have you been?” He said with a mixture of worry and sadness spreading across his face. “Out here.” “You’ve been out here ALL day?” You shook you head yes, more tears were threating to flow from your eyes as you recalled what made you come out here in the first place. “You must be starving,” he said moving in closer to you “and tired. C’mon, let’s get you inside.” You let him pull you to the ground. You mindlessly put the bludger back behind its chains and laid the bat into the chest. You closed it and locked it, George grabbed one side and you grabbed the other. Both of you walked to the field house in silence and put away the trunk and the brooms. Just as you got to the entrance of the castle George grabbed you arm and turned you around. “I meant what I said earlier, back on the field. You are a better player than I am. And I’m sorry about what I said yesterday; I don’t know why I said it. I don’t even know why I started this whole feud between us. I really am sorry.” He said as he looked into your eyes and then down to the grass. “It’s okay.” Your voice was still croaky, but George looked up and smiled at you. “So you can forgive me? Cause I was a total ass.” You smiled and nodded you head. “Thank you (Y/N)! I don’t deserve it, but I promise, my days of competing with you are over.  I promise to never make anything a competition ever again. I promise.” He said, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.  “Thanks George. I promise too, but I’m always up for a little competitive fun, as long as it’s played fair.” You said pulling out of his warm embrace. “Promise” George said as you both walked forward into the castle. “You know what’s funny,” He said, turning his head to look at you. “What?” “I’m pretty sure this all started because I wanted to impress you, but I guess I failed. I failed extremely hard.” He said laughing and beginning to walk up the stairs. “I wouldn’t say that.” You said grabbing his hand with a smile. You ended up walking back to the dormitories with both of you silent and blushing.

Xx This is an original story by me. I you use it, please give me credit.xX

As If I Would Be Jealous - Eisuke Ichinomiya

Eisuke was royally fed up.

The past week had been literal torture; every day he had forcefully spent witnessing her encounters with the other guys, and he was unsure as to how much more of it he could bear.


On Monday, Aimi had come up to the penthouse suites to clean, as she usually did.

Eisuke enjoyed seeing her whilst she was in the midst of her work. He secretly loved Aimi’s commitment to her job - her commitment to the job he needed her to do.

How had he been lucky enough to find such a beautiful woman, simultaneously so capable of holding her own?

He was beginning to think that the two were mutually exclusive until Aimi had accidentally come into his life…

Whilst he was lost in his thoughts about her, Aimi was busy greeting the other guys animatedly, that brilliantly bright smile on her face, as it normally was, and as he did every time, Eisuke wondered whether she was smiling because of him.

“Hey, Aimi!”. Baba’s cheerful voice rang out around the spacious room.

Eisuke let out a small sigh – surely it’s much too early in the morning for such happiness! Why Baba was always in such a good mood, he did not and would never know.

“Hi, Baba!”. If Aimi had noticed Eisuke’s presence yet, she did not show it.

Was she really being professional… or was she simply just being a tease?

“Do you guys mind if I clean up here now?”. Her sweet voice filled Eisuke’s ears and then his mind, and he went to reply, but someone quickly beat him to it.

“Of course not, Aimi!”. That damn Ota!

Why is he grinning at his girlfriend like that?!

“That’s fine,” Soryu added needlessly, standing near to one of the larger windows in the room, surveying the view.

Eisuke’s hands reflexively balled into fists – why is Soryu even getting involved?!

Isn’t he supposed to hate women?

“Thanks, guys”. Aimi’s smile does not falter.

That smile is supposed to be only for him, not for anyone else’s viewing.

He was clearly frowning, debating between either throwing everyone else out of the hotel or throwing Aimi right over his shoulder and carrying her away to somewhere the other guys wouldn’t dare follow…

“I think Boss is getting jealous,” Baba quipped, looking over at Eisuke from his place on the couch and noticing that troubled expression on his face.

Eisuke resisted the urge to throw something at the master thief, and instead calmly replied: “As if I would be jealous,” with a convincing and confident smirk.

“Jealous?” Aimi asked, seemingly innocent. She glanced at her boyfriend out of the corner of her bright brown eyes. He looked casual enough, sat down- for once- at the farthest end of the couch, flicking wordlessly through a newspaper.

His brows were knitted – in concentration? Or maybe he was trying a little too hard to look completely uninterested in what she was doing?

That bought a smile to her face.

He’s always acting so cold to her, especially when the other guys are here - It’s almost as though he doesn’t want to admit that he loves her.

A mischievous smirk took the place of Aimi’s previous smile.

“You’re not jealous, are you, Eisuke?”.

Whilst Eisuke gave his girlfriend a surprised, wide-eyed look, a low chuckle sounded from the corner of the room.

“Kid’s gettin’ brave,” Mamoru commented, and even Soryu chuckled, folding his arms and turning his attention to the scene playing out in the very room he was standing in.

“He’s definitely jealous,” Ota teased, running a hand through his bright hair.

“I don’t think he likes us talking to you,” Baba added, and Eisuke immediately decided that he had had enough, standing up abruptly and chucking the newspaper he had been pretending to read to one side without much of a care.

“I am not jealous,” he said finally, walking quickly out of the room.

They were to assume that he had an urgent and very sudden meeting – not that he was starting to grow embarrassed.


The rest of the week hadn’t been any better; On Tuesday, Aimi had spent her day off allowing Ota to draw her, which Eisuke knew Ota had only asked her for in order to piss him off.

Well, it was definitely working.

On Wednesday, Baba and Aimi were speaking to one another like old friends, and Eisuke felt ridiculously invisible – she didn’t think to turn those stunning brown eyes in his direction even once.

On Thursday, Soryu had Aimi talking for at least an hour about a detective series Eisuke had never even heard of…

…Maybe I’m not enough for her, he thought, pausing for a moment. Maybe Aimi needs someone who can talk to her like that, make her laugh until she cries, make her feel true happiness…

Admonishing himself for thinking such negative thoughts, Eisuke waited with faltering patience for his girlfriend- his fiancé- to walk through the door and into his suite, into his arms.

He mentally went through what he had done: he had run Aimi a bath, whereas usually it worked the other way round. He had ordered room service, (originally, he’d planned on cooking a meal, but he’d been unable to get past chopping the vegetables), even though Aimi’s food was undoubtedly the best, but perhaps she would like to relax tonight.

That’s the kind of thing a good husband would do for his wife, isn’t it?

The door opened just as Eisuke was opening a bottle of wine for them to enjoy with dinner.

Aimi was unsure what to pick up on first – the unmistakable smell of a fruity fragrance rising up from the massive bathroom, the expensive bottle of wine laid out on the table by a practiced hand, or the sight of her boyfriend- her fiancé- watching her with a particular amount of attentiveness.

He had removed his jacket and was wearing a purple shirt, his messy bangs even messier than usual, as though he had been running his hands through them in frustration. There was a certain underlying tone of affection to his voice as he gently spoke.

“You’re back”.

Laughing and removing her bag from her shoulder, Aimi looked up at Eisuke as she walked carefully towards him.

“I’m back,” she confirmed, smiling a little cheekily.

To her surprise, Eisuke actually smiled! What in the world?!

He hardly ever changes the expression on his face!

“I ran you a bath,” Eisuke told her, and Aimi couldn’t hide the shock on her face as she stared at him. He had run her a bath?!

“But, Eisuke-“.

“Don’t worry, it’s just for you”.

“No, no. That’s not what I’m-“.

“I ordered us dinner,” he went on, pouring the wine out into a fine, thin glass. Aimi awkwardly pulled at the ponytail her lovely brown hair was restricted in. “So you can take a break. Only for tonight, though. I want to eat your cooking again tomorrow”.


“And then-“.

“Eisuke!”. He stopped short when he finally heard the urgency in her voice, and he was confused by the lack of happiness in her expression.

Was this not enough for her?

Honestly. I have no idea what she wants, he thought, frustrated at himself for being so incapable.

Was it really this impossible to make Aimi feel truly happy?

“What’s wrong?” he made himself say, and she took another step towards him until they were in reaching distance, and Eisuke pulled her closer towards him out of habit, as if they were attracted magnets rather than two people.

“I really appreciate you allowing me to relax, Eisuke…”. The feel of her in his arms was enough to keep him slightly patient, for a little while, at the most.

Aimi slowly exhaled.

“But… well… I don’t really understand why you’re doing all of this”.

Because I’m in love with you, he thought, but he forced himself to play it cool, only shrugging his shoulders.

“I just felt like it,” he said with that usual relaxed demeanour, but Aimi was already giggling before he had even finished talking. Eisuke could feel himself turning red – was he that much of a laughing stock these days? “What’s so funny?”.

“You’re trying to impress me!”.

“I’m not trying to impress you,” he got out, but the blush on his cheeks betrayed him completely.

“Liar”. Aimi’s teasing tone took him completely off-guard, and he was unable to form a response. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, and the look almost drove him completely crazy. “…Were the guys right about you being jealous?”.

Yes, he couldn’t help but think. That smile is supposed to belong to me.

“No,” he chose to say instead. Aimi gave him an unconvinced look, and he wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about the little effort it took her to see through his outward confidence these days.


“…”. He shouldn’t have hesitated, for Aimi takes the opportunity to laugh, and he’d have left, had the sound not have been so enchanting; the most satisfying of melodies played on the rarest of instruments.

“You’re so cute sometimes, Eisuke Ichinomiya,” he heard her say, but her voice was so low, it could have just been his imagination.

Either way, he wanted to kiss her, wanted to remind her that she is his, and that the glistening ring on her finger, the look on her face whenever he touches her like this… they mean that she is his, that she belongs to him.

And that she always will.

The thought caused him to lean forwards - and then downwards -to touch her lips with his own, pulling her even closer to him until her warmth was his warmth, too.

Aimi responded, eventually, although the kiss had caught her completely unprepared, as Eisuke’s kisses usually did. She should really tell him to announce it when he is going to kiss her, but then again, he’d have way too much fun with that prospect and tease her rotten for it, so it’d probably be best not to.

Running a hand through Eisuke’s already messy brown hair, she returned the unexpected kiss until her boyfriend pulled away, staring down at her with uniquely coloured eyes, that confident smirk back and in full play.

“You know I’ll have to punish you for calling me cute, don’t you, Aimi?”.

“You mean, for telling the truth?” she replied, feigning innocence and pretending that his words weren’t still resounding in her heart.

Eisuke laughed honestly, something he rarely ever does, scooping the smaller party up into his arms with more care and gentleness than usual, beginning to walk the familiar route towards their bedroom whilst Aimi looked up at him with sparkling brown eyes.

“We’ll see if you still think I’m ‘cute’ tomorrow morning,” he said in warning, and Aimi’s strong blush told him that no other man - especially not those guys downstairs - could ever make the love of his life as happy as he could.

the-defected-one  asked:


nonsexual acts of intimacy.

After Sirius had received the hilarious Howler from his little brother, his mind was put (at least a little) at ease about what Regulus thought of him and his unexpected sorting. He had been fearful to come home and, when he had, there had been a raucous fight – dishes breaking, screaming, crying, spells hitting windows and cupboards – but Regulus had been up in the safety of his room, locked in from the outside by Orion who had wanted to spare the poor boy from seeing his brother being punished for something beyond his control.

Now he was nursing his wounded pride, but Regulus was none the wiser to what had happened. The pair of them had taken over the downstairs parlour with Orion seated in the corner, pretending to read his newspaper but really enjoying his young sons playing together with the few years they had left.

It had been Regulus’ idea to build the fort and Sirius had obliged – it was something they’d done countless times in days past, and Sirius was glad to spend time with his little brother, one of the only members of their family who didn’t look down their noses at him. Yet.

Once it had been built (with a little silent help from their father), Sirius and Regulus were inside, whispering to each other. Giggles erupted from beneath the multitude of blankets they had gathered from around the house and, eventually, Sirius found his baby brother’s arms wrapped around him, his had pressed flush against the elder’s chest.

A little dumbstruck, Sirius wrapped his arms back around Regulus and buried his face in the hair that was getting to be a bit long and unruly. He wondered quietly when Walburga would turn her wand on him and spell his hair off like she’d done to Sirius twice already. He’d probably blow up the entire sink if she did. No one messed with his little brother.

“Love you, Reggie.” He said softly, his voice muffled by the mass of dark hair. “You need a cuddle?”

Bianca and Brogan

Season 3 Episode 10

Airdate: July 9, 2014

More Appropriately Titled: Selita Wants Her Own Talk Show and Ruins Catfish in the Process

I have so much to say about this episode that I skipped ahead of all the episodes I’ve yet to write about so I can write about this one. Let me paint a portrait for you: I’m all swaddled up on the couch in my America blanket and my purple blankie wrapped around my head with a very small slit made for my eyes (I like the darkness). We start the show. I have no intention of writing anything because I’m so far behind and I like to do them in order. It wasn’t even five minutes before I flew off the couch to grab my computer. My unicorn Pillow Pet left alone to fend against my dogs. I have a humorous synopsis to write. “Pause the show, mom! PAUSE THE SHOW!”

We open with a very dramatic subject line: The vanishing act. Our catfish is obviously a magician. Bianca is a 20 year old from Durham, North Carolina, who has been talking to a girl named Brogan. I thought that was a made up name but my computer didn’t put the red line under it so, alright. Brogan is a real name. America is a free for all. Max raised his eyebrows very dramatically when we learned Bianca was talking to Boris. He’s trying to ward off his own gay rumors (facts). His thought process is that if he appears shocked by gays, we will assume he’s not gay. Many congressmen and politicians have tried the same thing. Bianca and Bruce are both into body modifications, which is a subculture MTV has yet to hit. Until now! Bruce vanished suddenly, deleting her Facebook and ceasing all contact with Bianca. A year later, Borat reappeared and began texting Bianca like nothing had happened. 

When they get Bianca on the horn, she has gauges, like, the size of my fist. Max asks her when she got into “body mod,” using the young, hip lingo like those in that subculture do. MTV cares about your identity. Bianca says she and Burgess have similar interests in body modification and tattoos and that brought them together. She tells Cheech and Chong how Bourbon disappeared, then reappeared a year later. Nev asks the million dollar question, “you didn’t wanna say, ‘hey where you been.’” Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum agree to come find Bruno. 

This is the part that made me lean forward and led to urgently writing this summary. Nev says, “I had a weird idea.” My ears were perked because most threesomes usually start with the same question. A supermodel named Selita Ebanks very clearly asked Nev if she could be on the episode because she’s probably trying to transition into acting or TV hosting. She will pretend she’s a co-host for an episode. 

We meet Selita in a hotel lobby. She is pretending to read a newspaper. Almost immediately, she waves to the camera. Selita says she has an interest in online relationships. They had to forge some logical reason why she’s there. It becomes increasingly more clear Selita wants to be a TV host. She says all of Max’s lines and takes his seat in the car. Selita is also a mean girl who is able to isolate and freeze out the weakest link. Max has never felt so distant from his life partner. 

We arrive at Bianca’s house. Selita tells Max, “Darling, I’m far more than just a model.” Hmmm, maybe she’s also an aspiring TV host? Bianca tells us there aren’t a lot of gay people in her small town, so she found someone online she could connect to. Apparently, this is Selita’s show now. She has taken over. She asks how long Bianca had been talking to Bourgeoisie before she dropped off the face of the Earth: five months. She then gives us anecdotes and asks more questions to let us know she could host a talk show. 

We look at Bourgeons’ profile. She has a brother. But the photo’s not tagged!!!! Nev tells Bianca since Brochure has a history of being flighty, she might run away if she knows Bianca and Stabler and Benson are coming for her. Bianca says it’s a risk she’s willing to take. Selita analyses Bianca on the car ride home. She can host a talk show that tackles gay issues. 

When Axl and Slash sit down to stalk a young girl, Selita gets a call from David Spade. Even David Spade is confused as to why she is on the show. He hits on her the whole time but she shuts it down on national TV pretty fast by saying, “oh, you’re silly.” This might be Selita’s only baller move. Okay, I’m over this. It’s taking away airtime from the good stuff. 

When they search Braggadocio Lynn Acaster, her profile comes up. Everything’s looking peachy thus far. However, there are no results on Spokeo or google images. They decide to search her without her middle name, hoping to yield more results. They find a blog where someone had written a post about Brioche. They scroll through the blog and find a photo of Burger’s legs; they are recognizable from the tattoos. Burma is definitely pregnant in this photo. This was Selita’s earlier theory. Max knows he’s losing his job and his husband to Selita. He hands her the camera and walks out, smashing things on the way. 

Nev and Selita continue on some nonsense theory about how they’ll never to be able to find Button. Max returns from his anger walk (I take a lot of those, too), ready to get his man back. He points out the obvious: duh, you idiots, look who owns the blog and is posting these photos. She’s obviously Borough. No wonder you got catfished and you’re a model. 

The blog belongs to Chloe Acaster. Wow, where have we heard that surname before. They find a twitter link to Chloe’s boyfriend. He is the man we previously believed to be Burrito’s brother. They go to his Facebook and finally find a photo of Bureaucracy. Her real name is Chloe Purdon. 

The next day, Whitney and Bobbi pop into Bianca’s house. We meet her mom, Kate. She has a purse in hand and sunglasses on her head. She was obviously on her way out. Kate gives a really nice speech about how people in their town were scolding her for having a gay daughter and their church kicked them out. But she told Bianca that this was who God knew she would be and she loved her no matter what. The It Gets Better people should contact Kate.

Tia and Tamara sit down to share their findings with Bianca. They show Bianca the pregnant photo, Chris’ and Chloe’s profiles. Bianca says what they all say; it’s all a lie. A Drake song feels appropriate here.

Nev does the most historical and old-fashioned thing he could do: make a phone call. He calls Bougie. As soon as he says, “My name is Nev,” Burka says, “Oh my God.” Turns out Budapest’s real name is Tia. Tia agrees to meet Bianca. She lives in Iowa. Go Hawkeyes. 

They hoof it on over to Iowa; a state Selita probably didn’t know existed. They stand outside Tia’s door a painfully long time waiting for an answer. MTV definitely hired the Blair Witch Project’s camera people for this episode. Nev looks in the windows. This is legal if you have a camera crew. Tia finally makes her grand entrance. Tia is some type of racially ambiguous-I don’t know what she is. She walks down the yard to meet Bianca. It is the stare down of a lifetime. Tia is a wilting flower. She finally apologizes. She says she became addicted to being Bucket. Max tells her she looks like Bingo-which she does. Tia shares she used to weigh 300 pounds. That’s why she hid behind a fake profile. Bianca says she wouldn’t judge anyone for who they are (this is obvious-anyone with a gauge large enough to stick a coke can through isn’t gonna judge you). Tia says she ducked out for a year because she realized what she was doing was wrong, but she couldn’t get over her feelings for Bianca. 

The next day, the Lone Ranger and Tonto go back to Tia’s house. Tia shares she had an easy time coming out and was accepted by everyone. This is polar opposite to Bianca’s story. I wonder if wannabe Oprah will bring this up later. Once again, Tia says she hid behind the profile because of her weight. Oh, what do you know. Wannabe Oprah’s gonna chime in. She says her story is so different from Bianca’s, who is a black lesbian from a small town. Tia says race doesn’t play a role here because she’s half Mexican (there’s the ambiguity. That’s what it is). Wannabe Oprah tells her she brought herself down and ruined people’s lives. Uh okay. She was a 300 pound lesbian, I’m sure she had some struggles. Tia and Selita get into it. Tia tells her she doesn’t know her or her struggles. Selita tells her to dig deeper. She is forcing Tia to have an emotional breakthrough. Tia now feels compelled to share that a crime was committed against her in high school where she was left physically injured. Max has had enough of Selita taking his job and his man. He tells Tia she doesn’t have to tell them anything just because Selita told her to. They encourage her to talk to Bianca. 

Tia meets up with Bianca. Bianca has a new piercing. She must have a terrible time going through metal detectors. Tia tells her she was a victim of sexual assault. She became very depressed, gained a lot of weight and created the Burlesque profile as an escape. Tia says she hopes to earn Bianca’s trust back. 

Because of all of Selita’s stupid shit taking up airtime, we did not get a one-month later update.

Recommendation: 4/5 Would Recommend

Selita blows for, like, a million reasons, but the drama she adds makes this a good episode. I love to hate Selita.

Final Thoughts:

If Selita ever gets a talk show, I’ll have a lot to say about it.