sand-bags

Random Loot Table

I consistently have players looting conquered foes, random strangers, ruined villages, etc.. And the truth is I almost NEVER know what they’re going to find. Usually I just spout some nonsense at the top of my head and it often ends up being dull, leaving my players less likely to look for items while adventuring in the future. I created this table to help give me a guideline for random loot, and it lets players feel lucky when they roll high and find something unexpected.

(Click Keep Reading below the image for more specific information and a text version of the chart at the bottom)

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Expectant - Request

Requested by anon:  could you do a Reader x Sherlock where she finds out she’s expecting and Sherlock has no idea how to react for awhile? Thank you :-)
Also, another anon requested for a fluffy one with Sherlock so…

Summary: (Y/N) is acting strange, and Sherlock notices. She ends up confessing the truth and… He struggles to find the words.

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Warnings: Bit of angst (not really) because of Sherlock’s reaction. Also, fluffy.

Word count: 2,807

A/N: My Sherlock feels are rising like the fenix rises from the ashes, THANKS! This is fluffy and cheesy and I love it, hope you do too. Remember feedback is highly appreciated.

Enjoy!

Originally posted by xthismeanswar

London had never been quieter. Not a single criminal dared to show up in the past week – or at least not one Sherlock cared about.

With his fiddle in hand and a melody on his head, Sherlock played for hours and hours throughout the morning. His feet with move along the music as he followed his girlfriend around the flat, making sure to keep his eyes on her at every moment.

(Y/N) was tiding it up a little since neither Sherlock nor John would do it.

“You know you don’t have to do that.” Sherlock spoke as he waltzed his way closer to her.

“I know, I just… Need to kill time, I guess.” Sherlock tilted his head.

“Anxiety?” She shook her head.

“Maybe I’m just bored.” Sherlock smiled warmly at her.

“I knew I wasn’t the only one getting bored here.” He said.

“Bored? You?” (Y/N) let out a fake laugh, “As far as I can tell you’re having a blast with your instrument.”

Sherlock didn’t reply with words but rather changing the tune to a faster one.

“Show off.” She hissed jokingly and moved to his room, where she picked up the dirty clothes and dusted the furniture.

Sherlock couldn’t help but to notice something strange in her. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it because it was such a slight change in her – and a good kind of change – that deducing it would take him hours. And that’s why he was following her.

She was resplendent yet she looked tired. “Why are you tired?”

(Y/N) looked up at him; she had been dragged out of her thoughts. “Sorry?”

“Why are you tired?” Sherlock repeated, “Last night we did… We did sleep late but we always do.”

“Maybe it’s all this cleaning.” (Y/N) suggested.

“You’ve followed me on cases that could get anyone tired after five minutes without even flinching, it’s not the cleaning.” Sherlock observed. He stopped playing and stood still, following her every move.

“Maybe I’m getting old.” Sherlock lifted an eyebrow.

“Impossible.” He stated, “If you were getting old I would be too and I’m feeling great.”

“We are getting old.” She emphasized, “With each second that passes.”

Sherlock sighed heavily and continued to play. (Y/N) excused herself and left to the bathroom. It was the fifth time she went and it wasn’t even close to mid-day.

Sherlock stopped playing once again and walked back to the living room where John was sitting and reading a newspaper.

“There’s something off about her.” Sherlock whispered without even looking at his friend but rather keeping his ice blue eyes glued to the bathroom door.

Watson, who knew exactly what was going on, shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and changed the page. He had been pretending to read the whole morning, for he knew it would be impossible for him not to react.

“You’ve read this newspaper three times already.” Sherlock observed.

“I like to re-read… Make sure everything sticks to my mind.” John replied.

“Guess that’s a method that works for common minds.” John couldn’t help but to roll his eyes, “But honestly, John, can’t you see? There’s something off about her.”

“She’s your girlfriend, Sherlock, not mine.” John beamed.

“She’s your friend, and you’re a doctor.” John sighed and scratched the corner of his eyes.

“She’s not sick.”

“How can you tell?” John inquired, “Did you check her body temperature? Her blood pressure? Her…”

“She’s fine!” John assured. Sherlock, of course, didn’t buy it and waited patiently for her to get out.

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Work it Out

Bucky x Reader

Summary: after pulling a muscle on a mission, you need to stretch out your leg while working out. But you need help to do so. There’s only one person around to help.

Word Count: 2595 (I got carried away!)

Warnings: language + references to smut + angst

A/N: I have so much unfinished hw and I’m writing a fanfic. honestly I should just drop out I can’t anymore w school. anyway, enjoy 💛


“That bad?” Wanda says, chuckling breathlessly. I shake my head. A familiar pain strikes through my thigh and I wince. Wanda looks at me in concern. “Stop.” she says. I look at her for a moment, almost limping on the treadmill, before pressing the “Stop” button and letting the conveyer belt slow to a halt. She finishes her own as well, wiping the sheet of sweat off her forehead.

“He literally ate his rice with his hands.” I sigh. Wanda raises her eyebrows. “I don’t know when the dating pool shrunk to all the losers.” I shake my head.

“Well, don’t take it out in your workout.” she says. “At least not until your muscle has healed.” I roll my eyes. “Doctor’s orders!” she says impatiently. I stick my tongue out at her and she smiles. “Well, I’m done anyway. Tony organized a dinner.” I tilt my head.

“Tony did something nice? What’s the catch?” I say. She shrugs.

“I think Pepper kinda forced him to. He said something about bonding, and I knew there was no way he had decided to do this on his own account.” I smile, shaking my head. “I’m gonna go clean up. Make sure to be down by seven.” I nod and bid her farewell. “And please take it easy on the workout.” she says, exiting the gym.

I bite my lip and turn around, looking for the next thing to do. After a moment, I decide to work on my combat by the punching bags. I cover my hands first so I don’t hurt myself, then begin punching at the sand bag, grunting with each blow. I use my left leg to kick, keeping use of my right minimal, like my doctor said to. My elbows strike the bag over and over, letting out my pent up anger. My stupid muscle was keeping me from going on the missions. I’m stuck in the compound and the best thing I can do is watch Netflix. I’m dead weight until my leg heals, and there’s no telling when that will be. My mind goes back to the first time I had to sit out on an assignment, five days ago.

We were about to leave for a mission, practically walking out the door as we finished gearing up. It had been a day since my doctor told me I hurt my leg. I was limping slightly, as the pain had turned into a dull ache. I pull on my jacket and look around at my teammates. Everyone is preparing, tucking guns into their jeans, putting in earpieces. I notice Bucky looking at me for a moment, but I don’t give it any notice, because he soon calls Steve over to him. I return to my prep, sliding a small dagger into my boot. I turn around, ready to leave, and nearly crash straight into a chest. My feet stumbled back and my eyes meet Steve’s concerned ones.

“What?” I say, furrowing my eyebrows. He folds his arms and looks down at my leg.

“I think you should maybe sit this one out, Y/N.” he says firmly. I stare at him incredulously.

“What?” I say, shaking my head. “No, I’m fine, Steve. I can handle myself.” He purses his lips.

“And if you can’t?” I tilt my head at him.

“I’m trained, Steve. I can handle a leg.” I say, looking at him stubbornly.

“I can’t risk you getting caught out there. You know they’ll take advantage of any of our weaknesses.” I step back.

“I’m a weakness?” I ask. He shakes his head.

“You know that’s not what I meant. I don’t want you to get hurt.” I exhale sharply, looking around at everyone else. Nat’s lips are pursed, looking at me identically to the way Steve is. Everyone has stopped what they’re doing to tune into the conversation, looking at me like I’m a child. Everyone except Bucky.

“You gotta be kidding me.” I say, setting my gaze on each one of them.

“He’s right, Y/N.” Tony says, his voice muffled by his suit. “It won’t help anyone if your leg acts up and you fall on your ass. That’s bad enough, now add the responsibility of innocents and the threat of HYDRA.” My nose flares, because I know they’re right. I silently throw off my jacket and limp back to the elevator.


“Y/N!” someone yells from behind me. I snap out of my thoughts and stop beating the bag in front of me, turning around. Bucky is standing by the Dumbbells, concern obvious on his face. “Are you alright?” he says. I breathe heavily and look down at my wrapped feet, wondering how long he was calling me for.

“Fine.” I mutter, turning back to the punching bag. I feel his eyes burning into the back of my head and huff. Great, I think, now I can’t concentrate. I straighten my posture and swallow, still knowing that he’s watching me. Ignore, ignore, ignore. I begin punching again, trying to keep from making any grunts of effort. I’m back into a routine, this time not out of anger, but out of genuine focus. I’m in the zone, pretending to deface a HYDRA junkie, making him call for his mom. I get too excited, because I jump up and do a 360, sticking out my leg—my right leg—to kick in midair. My hamstring protests, causing a jolting pierce to run up my leg. I yelp and fall to the ground, landing on my knee. “Shit.” I mutter. From the other side of the gym, I hear something falls and footsteps approach.

“Y/N?” Bucky says. “What’s wrong?” I wince and pull my legs out from underneath me, laying them out,

“Uh, hurt my leg.” I groan. His brows furrow in worry.

“How bad?” he says, his eyes darting around my leg. He sits down on his knees beside me, his hands frozen in the air, unsure of where to go.

“Think I disturbed the healing or something. Doctor kind of expected it to happen, considering I work in combat.” I sigh, the pain not subsiding.

“What can I do?” Bucky says hesitantly. There is already a polite decline leaving my mouth when I cut myself off. Shit. My face visibly shows me cringing at the words I have to say.

“Uh… My doctor said to do an exercise.” I mumble, looking down at my lap.

“What is it?” Bucky says. I sigh and run my hand over my face.

“I have to lie down and keep my legs straight, and, uh, another person has to lift my leg up really slowly and to stop when it starts to hurt. And, um, keep doing that until I can get my leg to a 90 degree angle.“ I breathe. Bucky itches the back of his neck. “You don’t have to—”

“No, it’s fine. I’m not just gonna leave you here.” he says. I keep from gritting my teeth. I kinda wish you would. It would save an incredible amount of awkwardness.

“Um. Ok.” My face turns hot as I lie down on my back with my hands at my sides. Bucky shuffles over, still sitting on the ground.

“Right leg?” he asks. I nod, watching my chest rise and fall. He gets up and leans down, taking my ankle in his hands. My breath nearly hitches at the contrast of his cold metal hand and his humanly warm flesh one. It makes goosebumps rise on my entire body. His eyes meet mine as he stands back up slowly, taking my leg with him. I internally throw profanities at myself for deciding to wear gym shorts. What’s wrong with sweats, huh? “Tell me when it hurts.” Bucky says quietly. I bite down nervously on my bottom lip. He slowly lifts my leg up, the movement of his fingers on my skin making my legs clench, which is infuriating because it makes my thigh hurt. Every move he makes, I can feel it like I’m watching it. But all I can see is my own chest and most of Bucky’s face. He looks right at me, watching for any sign of pain. Once my leg has reached the same height as wear I imagine his belly button would be, I wince and bend my knee for a split second. Bucky re-straightens it, skimming his flesh hand to my kneecap and gently pushing it down. He kneels back to the floor and sets my leg on the ground without letting go of it. He rises again, slowly, making his way back up. My fingers are digging into the mat underneath me, begging for this to be over before I do something stupid. I try to stare up at the ceiling, but it’s so difficult when I know I could be staring to his marble-like eyes instead. And that’s precisely what I do. My leg reaches his chest before the back of my thigh stretches painfully. I narrow my eyes and breathe in sharply.

“Um, it hurts.” I whisper. He stops and proceeds to repeat the protocol, kneeling and rising. The only times my eyes leave his are when they disappear behind my chest, setting my ankle down. The process repeats four more times, dead silence consuming the gym. The only sounds are my erratically beating heart, my murmurs telling him that my leg hurts, and my foot gently touching the floor. On the last time, my leg is nearly there, and when he takes a step closer to me to reach my leg easier, I nearly stop breathing. He’s towering over me, his orbs staring at me softly. He smiles slightly.

“There we go.” he says. I look at my leg and realize that it’s reached the 90 degree angle. I open my mouth, then close it. His hands roam down the back of my shin as he backs up and lays my limb back on the floor, reaching an arm out to help me up. I slowly lift my hand and take his flesh one, letting him haul me off the ground. We’re standing unbearably close, is hand on my forearm.

“Thank you.” I whisper, looking down. He nods his head and slides his hand back the way it came, down my wrist, through my hand, lightly applying pressure on my fingertips before stepping away. I take a long breath in before beginning to walk. I don’t let the breath out until I’ve safely reached my room, locking it and collapsing onto my bed.


I only have about twenty minutes to get ready for dinner, so I take an impossibly quick shower—desperately trying to wash away the tingling on my right leg— and change into a pair of dark skinny jeans and a cream colored blouse. I brush my hair and leave it down to air dry, as I don’t have time to do it. I get out of my room just in time and head down the lounge. It’s modern and sleek with grey couches and smooth wooden floors. On the other end of the room, there’s a mountain of food neatly placed on the board glass dining table. The food is surrounded by empty dinner plates and cutlery. The rest of the team have just made it, talking to one another and taking their seats. I can’t help but smile. As much as I hate to admit it, I don’t blame them for keeping me off the missions. I feel grateful that they care about me enough to put my safety before the given assignment. Nat notices me standing at the entrance of the room and smiles, gesturing for me to approach. I do, greeting everyone in a friendly manner as I take a seat between Sam and Clint, breathing in the sweet scent of fresh food and laying a towel out on my lap. Most of it hasn’t been uncovered yet, still blanketed with a silverware dome. Chatter echoes around the table, but I stay silent, watching the plates being uncovered by outstretched hands, taking in the sight. Rice, ribs, steak, pasta. Every dinner food I can think of is stretched out on the table. I feel someone tap me on the shoulder. I look over to Sam, whose looking at me mischievously. I narrow my eyes. “What?” I ask testingly. He smiles and props his cheek on his knuckles.

“I saw quite the sight earlier.” he says quietly. My eyebrows knit into a confused frown. “I saw you,” he pauses, “gettin’ all touchy with Barnes in the gym.” My eyes widen. I hear an irritating clink behind and look over to see Barton has dropped his glass of champagne. It leaks all over the glass, but no one seems to notice. He’s staring at Sam with his eyes wide. My head whips back to Sam and I give him a deadly glare. He doesn’t even look at me, but instead smiles at Clint.

“You had a thing with Barnes?” he says. I close my eyes at the volume of his voice and nearly off myself right there. The chatter at the table comes to an abrupt halt at the sentence. I’ve never been happier to not have Bucky at the table.

“No,” I croak, “I didn’t.” Tony giggles like a child. My eyes fly open and I look at him testingly. “I didn’t.”

“Then what the hell did I see?” Sam says. I swallow and look down.

“I hurt my leg. He was helping me stretch.” I say quietly. Tony makes an uh-hu and I grit my teeth.

“Stop.” I say. Sam and Tony have childish smirks on their faces that I wish I could punch clean off. Everyone else looks at me with raised eyebrows or widened eyes. “Nothing happened.” I mumble. Sam shrugs.

“Here he comes. We’ll just ask him ourselves.” Tony says. My breathing pattern disorients as I look behind me to see Bucky coming through the hall, shaking out his wet hair like a dog. I want to sink back into my chair and become one with it, completely out of sight and finished with this situation. “Hey, Barnes, what were you doing with Y/N in the gym?” Tony says. I barely look at him, just enough to see his face. He raises an eyebrow.

“Working out?” he says, like its the only possible thing that could’ve happened. I mean, it is. Of course it is. “That’s not what I saw.” Sam says, tilting his head at Bucky. I feel a lump form in my throat as Bucky looks at me in confusion.

“She hurt her thigh. I was helping her stretch.” he says, squinting.

“Mmhhmm.” Tony says. “I bet you help her stretch all the time.” I stiffen, looking around the table. Clint, Sam, and Tony giggle profusely. Steve is tugging at his lips to keep a smile from reaching them. Wanda and Nat look at me in surprise. I breathe in and look down, suddenly disheartened.

“You know what, guys?” I say quietly, standing up and folding the towel on the table. “Have a great dinner.” I push my chair out with the back of my knees. The boys aren’t laughing anymore. The table’s eyes are on me. I shuffle out of the chair and turn around, walking past Bucky, brushing his shoulder and trying not to stare at his concerned face. My feet thump, carrying me back to my room, locking the door and sitting on the end of my bed, a sigh escaping my lips.

Wipe the Machines - ONE SHOT

Summary: Captain America thought you hated him, but you just wanted him to wipe the damn sweat off the Gym’s machines.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2,145

Warnings: SMUT, CURSING, HAIR PULLING, CAPTAIN!KINK, ORAL SEX MALE RECEIVING;

A/N: AM I BACK? Don’t know. DID I SAW THE REQUESTS? Hell yes. AM I WRITING SOMETHING ELSE? FUCK YES. I just watched Homecoming for the SECOND TIME TODAY, AND I’M FEELING INSPIRED FOR SOME PETER PARKER ANGST HAHAHAH. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this! <3

MASTERLIST



Originally posted by luvinchris


“I’m telling you, pal. She hates me.” Bucky chuckled at Steve’s grumble, denying with his head and continuing to punch the sand bag as his best friends held it.

“C’mon, Steve. Is Y/N! She is like, the sweetest and loving person of this country, she’s so stupidly cute and nice that my sweet tooth hurts.” He rolled his eyes at Bucky’s words, nobody believed him when he said that you two simply didn’t hit it off right away, and that pissed him off. Especially because of how damn attractive and nice he thought you were. “Besides, you’re the Captain America, why would she hate you?” Bucky smirked, controlling the laugh at the memory of you staring at his best friend while he was cooking.

He had seen the stare you two gave to each other when one was looking.

Steve saw how you treated the others and how you actually were, and he knew you were a sweet piece of cake.

“I don’t know, she has been here for five months and yet, she always gets out of the room when I’m it.”

“I don’t see that. She’s hyperactive, you know… She just can’t stop at one spot.” Bucky puffed, finally stopping the punching and unlacing his hands. “You’re done?”

“No, I’ll hit the gym… See if I can get any of this stress out without punching anyone in the face. But, see you at dinner?”

“Yup. And she doesn’t hate you.” Steve scoffed, dismissing his friend and taking his shirt on his way to the other gym – where the machines stood, but stopping dead on his track with the vision of you doing squats with a bar on your shoulders.

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Babydoll

Summary: Annabelle Shaw (reader) trains at the Avengers compound. While remembering her troubled past, she injures herself and recieves help from the last person she expected.

Word Count: 2,246

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! So this is my first story on here, so bear with me! I am open to requests, so if anyone ever wants to request fics, feel free to message me! Thanks for reading!

Sunlight seeps through the curtains, filling the dark room with golden hues. My eyes open slowly, a low groan emanating from my throat as I roll over in the plush bed. I throw the sheets over my head, exhaling deeply as I settle back in contently.

“Good morning, Miss Shaw,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. croons. “It is six a.m. and Captain Rogers is awaiting your training session in the sparring room.”

“Ugh,” I drawl. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., tell Steve I’m not training today because I’m exhausted from the mission last night,” I mumble sleepily. “Goddamn old men and their early mornings.”

“As you wish.”

“Oh, and F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Yes, Miss?”

I smile and say, “Close the curtains and don’t wake me up unless it’s an emergency.”

“Of course, Miss Shaw.”

Just as my eyes flutter shut, a hand bangs on the door in quick succession. “Annabelle! Rise and shine!” Steve yells.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., keep him out.”

“Yes, Miss Shaw.”

I turn over and sigh happily, knowing F.R.I.D.A.Y. would never go against my wishes. Steve continues to pound against the door, yelling about our training session, but I stay completely silent. I hear the AI say something to Steve, probably telling him I’ve restricted all contact with me to emergencies only. The incessant knocking stops and I’m finally at peace.

“Miss Shaw,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. says, confused, “I’m afraid Captain Rogers is overriding my security protocol. He will have access to you in approximately twenty seconds.”

With that, my eyes fly open and I begin to panic. “Shit,” I chant. Rushing around the room, I shuck off my pajamas and throw on a sports bra, tank top and capri spandex bottoms, knowing Steve will drag me out in whatever I’m in, regardless of how I look. Just as I’m throwing my hair into a high ponytail, the door whisks open and Steve barges in, a creased brow and shit-eating grin on his face.

“Annabelle, I told you what would happen if you did this again,” he boomed, advancing quickly.

My heart leaps to my throat. “Steve, I’m so tired from last night, please don’t do th-”

I’m cut off as the super-soldier tosses me over his shoulder, laughing gleefully as I yelp in surprise. “Too little too late, Shaw.”

His grip is completely constricting, forcing my hand. I plant a hard slap on his right butt cheek, which surprises him, causing him to squeal “shit!” and his hands to slightly falter. I take the opportunity to slip away and sprint down the hallway of the Avenger’s compound, heart pounding. He pursues me with heavy footfalls that resonate throughout the otherwise silent building, shouting empty threats at me while laughing.

I spin around and throw up the middle finger, chortling, only to slam into a solid, warm surface.

I topple over and slam into the floor, taking the body with me. We groan in unison and a flash of silver catches my eye. I stiffen and shoot up in panic. “Sorry, I didn’t see you th-”

He cuts you off with a growl, standing up slowly. “Watch where you’re going next time.” Bucky stalks away quietly, seething.

I turn to Steve and he laughs nervously, leading me to the sparring room.

After a long day of training, I fall onto my bed, completely wore down. Steve, ever so merciless and in excellent shape, always expected me to keep up with him when we trained together, which seemed like a stretch. When we sparred, I could knock him down and keep him down easily, but when it came to physical endurance and strength training, it seemed like the super-soldier enjoyed pushing me past my breaking point every day. Every session introduced a new form of torture that reigned hell on my body, and every night prolonged my misery with every single movement.

We frequently came across the others training for missions, but had never once seen Bucky in the training rooms. I didn’t know if that was because he didn’t need training, or if he just didn’t care enough to make an effort, but it annoyed the hell out of me every day because of how effortless he made missions seem. There I always was, busting my ass, and he would simply throw people into walls with his metal arm with what seemed like little to no effort. It infuriated me.

There is a mission tonight that Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Wanda had to go on, leaving me, Bucky, and Tony at the compound. After the falling out of the Avengers about a year and a half ago, the Sokovia Accords had been abolished, leaving the group to have free reign with the supervision of the World Security Council. Amnesty was granted to Steve, Sam, Clint, Wanda, and Scott, so they returned to the States. Tony, having realized what a dick he had been, formally apologized to everyone for his behavior and overall jackassery during their “civil war.” Since then, everything has been running smoothly, with most of the team back at the compound. Clint and Scott returned to their families, T’Challa remained in Wakanda to serve his duty as both king and Black Panther warrior, Banner’s been MIA since the battle for Sokovia, and Tony spends most of his time in New York and Queens to keep an eye on the new kid, Peter, and help Rhodey adjust to life. I’d never met the Spider-Man himself, but from what Sam and Steve’s told me, he seems like an overzealous teenager who’s eager to please, like I was.

I head to the gym, F.R.I.D.A.Y. playing my workout playlist through the PA system. I twirl a knife in my hand, slightly dancing to the rhythm while walking down the corridor. Once I reach the gym, I ditch my knife on a table in exchange for tape and head for a punching bag, carefully wrapping my knuckles as I go. Clenching my fist, I roll my neck to loosen up before striking the sand-filled bag. I smile, savoring the sweet sting from the punch, and throw three more in quick succession. After I’m warmed up, I begin to throw punches and kicks like Steve taught me, exerting all of the strength I could muster.

Startling awake, I gasp for breath, fighting against the restraints. The metal table is cold beneath me, save for the small pools of blood that seeped through the fabric of my shirt. I glance down at my exposed midriff, crying out at the pain of the gunshot wounds. I scream in agony, concentrating on the lodged bullets, and pull the fragments out. This is what they want. They want to see you break, to unleash your power, and you finally did. As soon as the bullets land on the floor, a team of doctors rush in, grinning like they’d won the lottery. I scream, light bulbs shattering above and the table shaking with every breath I take.

“Yes,” they say, one amorphous, sinister voice. “Now we can begin.”

I lose track of how long I spend at the bag, so when I see blood seeping through the white tape encasing my tender knuckles, I slow to a stop. My tank top is completely soaked through, so I discard it on the floor, leaving me in my sports bra and yoga capris. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., stop the music please.” I carefully unwrap my hands, wincing at the agonizing burn of split knuckles. I walk to the table and grab a knife to sever the cage of white engulfing my scarlet fingers. Once the tape is gone and my knuckles can bleed freely, I sit against a wall, clutching my head in my hands, struggling to control the erratic heaves of my chest.

Breathe.

A noise from the door startles me out of my stupor and my guard is up immediately. Without looking, I stand and hurl the knife to the frame of the door, the glinting metal striking its mark inches from the intruder’s head.

“Shit,” Bucky breathes. “It’s just me.”

Exhaling shakily, I shake my head and scoff. “What, need to train?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, stepping into the room. He glances around curiously, as if experiencing it for the first time. I scoff again, concluding that this actually is his first time here. Bucky isn’t one to initiate conversation, and neither am I, so I put him out of my mind as I grab a towel to wipe my hands. Biting my lip to conceal my pain from my metal-armed spectator, I gently dab my knuckles, blood soaking into the towel quickly. The whimper I mistakenly let out results in Bucky coming over to me in a flash, slowly circling his fingers, flesh and metal, around my wrists. I avoid his eyes shamefully, frowning. What is he doing?

“Come with me,” he says. He grazes his metal fingers up my arm and down my back in one swift motion, goosebumps raising in their wake. My breathing falters for a second, barely a hitch, but he notices. He hides his grin by pretending to scratch his scruff-covered jaw. I try not to stare when Bucky runs his fingers through his hair, holding back his smile. He splays his cool fingers on the small of my back, gently leading me out of the gym.

The only thing I can concentrate on is his hand on my skin. The smooth and cool surface of the metal tingles on the sweaty, exposed surface. While he’s touching me, my body is suddenly hyperaware of every move he makes, so I can feel when he adjusts his arm slightly to curl his fingers around my waist nonchalantly. I try not to gasp when he tugs me into his room and slams the door behind him.

“Bucky, what-”

He shakes his head and smiles softly. “I just want to help clean you up,” he says quietly. My heart practically slams out of my chest as he takes in my shocked expression and grins boyishly, dimples forming in his cheeks. “C’mon B.”

“B?” I question. He takes me to his en-suite and lifts me onto the vanity, which makes me squeak in surprise. Who the hell is this guy?

He smiles, and again I’m transported to another place. I’ve never seen him smile so often and so freely. It’s confusing. “Just thought I’d try it out. Everyone calls you a cute nickname, and I thought I would try out B.”

Bucky digs around a drawer, fishing out antibacterial cream, gauze, and medical tape. His hair falls into his face as he washes my knuckles with warm water and soap tenderly. I study him: his sharp, strong jawline; his strong cheekbones; his long lashes lightly dusting his cheeks when he blinks; the soft curve of his plump lips and how he bites the lower one in concentration; his broad shoulders and bulging biceps straining against his plain black shirt; his everything.

“Why B? What does it stand for? Bells?”

He pauses, holding my cut hands. Blush dusts his cheeks and he looks up at me with the same heart-stopping, boyish grin he gave me earlier. “No.”

I crease my eyebrows. “What then?”

“Babydoll.”

My heart hammers in my chest. What? He places my hands in my lap, stepping between my parted legs. “Bucky, what-”

“Shh, just let me, let me try something.” He leans in closer, firmly gripping my hips, pulling me closer to him. I squeak in surprise, my whole body burning with an emotion I can’t decipher. We are so close, closer than I’ve been with anyone in a while. I feel like I can’t breathe, but in the best possible way, when he leans in, brushing his lips against mine. I gasp and he sucks in a breath through his nose. Everything is tingling and nothing feels real, but the warm pressure of his hands on my hips reminds me that this is reality. Bucky pulls me impossibly closer, fully pressing his lips against mine. I sigh, my heart pounding with excitement, and bring him closer to me by holding his face in my shaking hands. I can feel the pulse on his neck, whimpering when it’s as fast and hard as mine. He groans and deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue into my mouth, much to my surprise. He feels and tastes amazing, like the peppermint gum he always chews. His body is solid and warm between my parted thighs, and my mind is buzzing.

Time ceases to exist when his lips are on mine, and everything feels like a dream. After what feels like a blissful eternity yet only a second, I reluctantly break the connection, breathing hard and fast like the beautiful man in front of me. He lays his forehead on mine, struggling to catch his breath. I laugh nervously and lace our fingers together, leaning against the wall behind me.

“What was that?” I ask breathlessly. He grins.

“Can’t stop thinking about those lips,” he tells me. I blush scarlet, which makes him laugh. He finishes bandaging my hands and I feel helpless against the assault of light kisses he gives each knuckle once it’s cleaned and wrapped.

Once he’s finished, he pulls me off the counter and leads me back to the gym. I stare at him, still giddy, and ask, “What are we doing?”

He grabs a handful of knives off of the table and turns to you, grinning. “I want you to teach me how to throw knives.”

I blanch. “Are you kidding me? You don’t know how to throw a knife?”

He shrugs. “I do. I just want you to teach me how you throw knives. I see you playing with one all the time.”

My eyes widen in shock and yet again, I blush. “You watch me?”

His metal arm glints in the sun as he scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “Um, yeah. For a while now.”

I can’t hide the smile that lights up my face; much to my displeasure, I also can’t hide the girly giggle that escapes. “What else do you think about?”

He drops the knives and rushes to me, grabbing me by the thighs and hoisting me up. I squeal, which seems to be a recurring, annoying sound I make, and wrap my arms around his neck. He traces my lips with a finger, looks up at me with a soft smile and bright eyes before saying, “Trust me, babydoll, this is only the beginning.”

Sleepless Nights | Draco Malfoy x Reader

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Requested: Yep!

          70. “You’ll have to try harder than that.”

          91. “Promise me, you won’t tell anyone.”

Requests: OPEN

Summary: You and Draco form an… unexpected and unusual relationship. Fluff and angst.

Words: 2,796


             If you knew anything about the exterior personality of Draco Malfoy you’d know, first, he is a pompous git fueled by bigotry, and second, he was one of the biggest bullies Hogwarts housed. So, when Draco set his eyes on you, you knew you were in trouble. You were one of the few half-bloods in Slytherin, and for this you regularly faced backlash, though it was nothing you couldn’t handle. When taking into consideration the things you knew about Malfoy and your blood status you knew that the reason that he kept looking at you from down the Slytherin table in the great hall was because he was lining up his firing squad and you were in the cross hairs.

             You’d managed to keep off of his radar for most of your schooling at Hogwarts, keeping your head down, only stepping on the toes of those beneath you. You stayed away from the big guns of the House of Slytherin, and most of all, the Prince of it. So, it was in that moment, when you made eye contact with him and he sneered at you, that you began building up the metaphorical sand bags in your brain, ready to take cover and fire back in defense.

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Run Away- Bucky x Reader

Authors Notes: Prep for the angst and Fluff y’all! lol

Prompt: @melconnor2007 I was wondering if you could do one where Bucky and the reader been dating, but nat refuses to believe he loves here and makes a move on Bucky, the reader sees, but runs away before she sees Bucky pushing nat off, the reader then leaves the tower with a note for Bucky telling him, but Bucky using his skills tracks her down, with lots of fluff at the end where he explains and tell reader how much he loves her, if that makes any sense at all, lol,

 Notes/Warnings: assumed cheating, angst, fluff, kissing

Originally posted by pxggycxrters

 Your life was bliss. Well, as blissful as it could be while being an Avenger. Bucky had been with the team just a year longer than you and from the day you arrived the two of you had hit it off. Just a few months ago Steve locked the two of you in the gym until it came out that you both had feelings for each other and the decision to be official was sealed with the kiss of your life. Since then you and Bucky were practically inseparable. Everyone at the compound agreed that the two of you belonged together.

 Everyone except Nat. She was good at hiding it, keeping her feelings in check is part of her skill set, but she just didn’t think you were right for him. She thought she should be in your shoes, in his arms. She was your friend though, or at least friend enough. She lied to you and told you how happy she was for you. She told you how perfect the two of you were together just to frown when your back was turned.

 Today she was over it, though. It had been four months of dating between you and you made cupcakes and he brought you flowers. It made her sick. She had a plan and was set to execute it as soon as the opportunity presented itself, and she had that planned, too.

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anonymous asked:

Steve and Natasha having the best time together pranking the other Avengers over Christmas

This is NOT April Fool’s Day!” The shout echoes down the lab halls. 

Natasha smirks and high-fives Steve.  

“You were so right.”  She peers over Steve’s phone while they walk.  “The shiny snowman wrapping paper was definitely the one to use.”   

The peer at the screen of his phone in the elevator, watching Tony unwrap all of his lab supplies, (Each. And. Every. Item.)

“When do you think he finds Dum-E?”

“If I may, Captain Rogers.” came JARVIS’ voice.  The screen in the elevator above the buttons flickered to life.  Tony was trying to move the six-foot stuffed teddy bear wearing a pair of reindeer antlers without success.  

Oh my God, you guys suck.” Came the crystal-clear shout over the audio a minute and a half later when the ‘bear’ hadn’t so much as budged.  Tony went searching for an as-yet-unwrapped pair of scissors or knife to cut Dum-E out of his Reindeer Teddy hiding spot.  

“Ok, we have an hour before Bucky gets back.  We have just enough time to get the palm tree from the lobby and stick it in his bathroom.  Clint has the bags of sand for the floor and JARVIS is ready with Don’t Worry, Be Happy when Bucky turns the light on.”

Steve grinned.  “Perfect. A Caribbean vacation for Christmas he’ll get.”

Like What You See?

Request: You’re work is amazing!!!! I was wondering if you could do a bucky smut where he has had a nightmare and is taking his frustration out on the punching bag when he catches reader watching him and he can see her silhouette through her silk nightgown or at least something along those lines thanks

Summary: You catch Bucky after he’s had a nightmare. He’s in the gym, trying to release some pent up feelings, throwing his fists as hard as he can against a punching bag.

Warnings: Smutttttttt and angst :/

A/N: I hope you like this! I’m sorry it get’s a little real with the readers two paragraph responses to Bucky in the middle, you’ll know what I’m talking about when you read it. Also, I wrote this at four in the morning, so I may not get to any requests tomorrow because I need a break from writing the fics.

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punkassplonker  asked:

Hey! Hey. So. I love Google Oliver. I love Google Oliver just as much as the next guy bUT... I also... love angst... basically what im tryna say is that i imagined Oliver getting damaged in some way so that hes glitching uncontrollably and in pain but the other Googles cant get close enough to help him because his glitching could harm them. I was wondering if you wanted to write a small story about that or would that be too dark? (I love you and your work either way)

They were helping Wilford set up the new studio on his floor when the sand bag fell. No one knows what made the rope break, but Wilford swears that the ropes were all brand new. Despite that, it hit Oliver when he pushed Bim out of the way.

His head was stuck at an odd angle, partially caved in from the impact, and sparks were flying from his neck and the exposed wires in his shoulder. Bim had to scramble away on his hands and knees to avoid getting hit by Oliver’s glitching body as it writhed and contorted out of place. The other Googles tried to help, but they couldn’t get anywhere near him for fear of being damaged themselves.

Oliver started screaming after a while, his wires starting to short with the stress of all the glitching. Google Blue raced out of the room, up to their floor where he could turn off Oliver remotely. It was risky, but it was the only thing they could do to save him.

Wilford held Bim back from trying to help Oliver as he continued to struggle against the malfunctions until finally, the droid collapsed. When the Googles dragged him away, Bim couldn’t watch. Wilford, on the other hand, inspected the rope that had held up the sand bag to find it cut cleanly with a knife.

It takes the Googles the better part of the night to get Oliver back in working order. When they power him up, the yellow droid blinks a few times, eyes focusing on the faces surrounding him. “Google Yellow online,” he says, in the automated voice. Bim throws his arms around his friend’s neck, but Oliver doesn’t react. He only answers with, “How may I assist you?”

Bim backs away slowly as the Googles try to explain that this was a possibility all along, that they might be able to retrieve his memory files, that it will just take time. But Bim just shakes his head and leaves, unable to stay a minute more.

There are a lot of days that I don’t want To get out of bed
I physically and emotionally
Feel like I can’t
But I do it anyway
Because I know I have to

There are a lot of days where I don’t
Want to go out and see friends
But I make myself
Because I know I have to

There are a lot of days where I feel like I can’t even go in a store
I feel so panicked
But I know I have to

There are a lot of days where I have so Much anxiety I can barley stand it
I feel like
I won’t make it through the day
But I politely smile
And get through the day
Because I know I have to

You have to put one foot
In front of the other
Even when it feels like sand bags are tied To your feet
And that you can’t go any further
You gotta get your shit done
You gotta get out of bed
You gotta push yourself
It’s important
Even when you don’t want to
Even when you feel like you can’t
You gotta get up and push through

—  Chapters from my life

welcome2fanpagesinc  asked:

Hey I love your blog! Can I get a 15 and 82 for Bucky Barnes????? Thanks ♡♡

Title : Scars.

Summary : When you can’t sleep you decide to go to the training room, where an unexpected type of ‘training’ happens between you and a fellow fighter.

Word Count : 1k+

Warnings : scars, sad reader, oral smut (m receiving), smut in general.

Pairing : Bucky Barns x reader

Prompt : (15) “If I could, I would kiss away all of your scars.” (82) “I want you. Right here. Right now.”

A/N : ommgg sorry this took so long to answer, I’ve been working on my wattpad stories and on here and school has been stressing me out. Just sorry, but please enjoy this!

master list | requests | prompt list | my wattpad


Originally posted by pxggycxrters

Originally posted by couplenotes

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, the two of you rolling around on the training floor and making a mess of each other, but it happened.

It was late at night and you couldn’t sleep, so you did what you always did and you went to the training room. You quickly changed out of your pajamas and put on your work out gear; tight fitting pants, a sports bra, and tight jacket. You weren’t to confident when it came to your body. Your were in perfect shape, you had to be if you were going to work with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers, but it was your scars that you wanted to cover up and hide.

Walking down to the training room you began wrapping your knuckles, just to get a hard start. When you walked in, you were surprised to see another person in their- James Buchanan Barnes also known as Bucky Barnes or The Winter Soldier. The sight of Bucky shirtless and sweating made your stomach tighten and a familiar warmness pool in your lower area. Trying to shake off the feeling you walk over to the punching bag, finishing wrapping up your knuckles and setting up your stance. From the corner of your eye you could see and feel Bucky’s eyes watching your every move.

Taking a deep breathe or began punching, letting your bottled up anger take over and flush out. Bucky stopped what he was doing and watched you punch and kick the sand filled bag. After a few minutes you felt a pair of hands on your waist, stopping your movements. Your heart beat sped up, thumping so hard you thought that for sure it would break your rib cage.

Bucky’s hot breath fanned over your neck, goosebumps riddling the exposed skin. “You need to keep your hips square and feet planted, you were losing your balance when you came down from a kick.” His voice was barley above a whisper, but just as clear as water. You nodded slightly, your mouth growing dry as Bucky’s hands held your hips with a firm grip. There was only one thought in your head, and you all wanted was for Bucky to be holding your hips down to the floor and slamming his hips into yours-

“Y/N? You still there?” Bucky chuckled. You nodded.

“Yeah, sorry, sorry.” You shook your head, taking your defensive stands once more. Bucky nodded at you and you began punching and kicking again. Now you weren’t losing your balance, you were landing every time your legs came down from a kick. The pooling in your stomach grew when Bucky’s grip on your hips tightened, making your breathe quicken even though you weren’t even tired. You stopped, turning around slowly to face Bucky. He looked down at you confused.

“I want you. Right here. Right now.” You said, voice choppy since your mouth was so dry. Bucky’s eyes widened as he processed your words. Before he could say anything back you stood on your toes and pressed your lips to his. Not forcefully, but passionately. It didn’t take long for him to close his eyes and kiss back, which surprised you in all honesty. Bucky’s hands gripped your waist tightly, slowly moved down and gripping your ass in his big palms. You gasped into his mouth, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. The two of you battled for dominance, Bucky ultimately winning. You let his tongue roam your mouth, searching and memorizing every inch. You pulled away to catch your breathe, breathing heavily.

You moved down to your knees, eyes level with the growing tent in his shorts. He groaned as you palmed in gently, his eyes fluttering closed. You pulled down his shorts and boxers in one swift movement, his erection standing at attention. Blinking, you move your hand up and down in slow movements to get him fully hard. Once he was you place his tip in your mouth, earning a growl from the man above you. His hands quickly found their place in your hair, pushing your head down further until his tip reached the back of your throat. You held back a gag, your eyes watering slightly. You moved your head along Bucky’s shaft, hollowing out your cheeks swirling your tongue around him. Low moans and whimpers of your name fell from his mouth, egging you on until  he twitched in your mouth.

“Princess, fuck, I’m gonna cum. Fuck… I’m cumming.” He groaned as he spewed his load into your mouth. You let the salty substance fall down your throat, until it was completely gone. He pulled back from your mouth, chest heaving with each breathe he took. He pulled you up to your feet, hands smacking your ass as he began to rid you of your clothes.

You stopped him when he went to remove your jacket, arms wrapping around your stomach protectively. Bucky furrowed his eyebrows, wondering what you were doing.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He asks, hands rubbing your arms softly. You looked down, head hanging low.

“I don’t want you to see my scars.” You mumbled. Bucky moved your arms from around your stomach and slowly took off your jacket. His finger tips traced the slash mark scars across your stomach, some going to the middle of your back.

“If I could, I would kiss away all of your scars.” Bucky said softly. You looked up at him, the second your eyes met his lips were back on yours. Your pants and sports bra were thrown next to your jacket, and you were hoisted up into the air with your arms and legs wrapped around his toned body. “Are you ready, baby?” You nod, arms tightening around his neck as he slid into your slowly. You gasped, mouth gaping open as Bucky pushed all the way in till the hilt. You bit your lip, nodding at Bucky to begin moving. He did what you wanted, thrusting in and out of your wet pussy. Your moans went from small whimpers to loud cries as he hit every right spot inside you.

“Feels so good, such a pretty little pussy wrapped around my cock. Feels good doesn’t it, doll? My cock spreading you apart and ripping apart your insides?” Bucky growled. You nodded, whimpering at his words. “Use your mouth, beautiful, I know you can.”

Breathing heavily, your voice came out as a weak cry. “Yes! Your cock feels so good inside me, Bucky. God, I love it, I love it so much.” Bucky’s lips twisted upwards into a smirk, his hips thrusting harder and faster. The familiar coil in your stomach tightened even more as you neared your high. Your head fell back, ass cheeks slapping against Bucky’s thighs with each hard thrust. You could tell he was getting close as well with how his movements started to falter. With a loud scream of his name you came undone around Bucky’s shaft, his own orgasm being set off by yours. He gripped you tighter as he came inside you.

The two of you breathed heavily as he pulled out of you, the mix of your liquids dripping down your inner thighs. Letting out a relieved sigh you and Bucky dressed your selves. As you slid on your jacket, Bucky grabbed your hand, squeezing your hand gently and leading you back to his room.

Fernand Cuville, The altar of the cathedral Saint-Gervais-et-Saint-Protais protected with sand bags. The building was heavily damaged during World War I . Soissons, Aisne, France, 1917 . Autochrome Lumière

Only One - Bruce Wayne

Request: ‘jealous BruceXBatmom’ (x)

A/N: Hope you like it!




    It was your tenth anniversary. Bruce and you had originally planned a quiet evening just the two of you. Your sons had respected that, but still had all come to the manor for breakfast so they could at least celebrate a little with you. However your friends had had an other idea. One by one they had shown up with presents. Neither Bruce nor you had the heart to kick them out, so instead you cancelled and stayed home.
    Currently you were all sitting around dinner table. Dick grinned at you from the other side of the table, he had been hesitant when you had changed your plans since he knew what today meant for you, but also secretly glad to spend time with you. His brothers had reacted the same way, Jason had even offered to kick everyone out if you didn’t want to do it. But now he was sitting between Dick and Tim, having a good-humored banter with the younger one. Damian sat on  your side, talking with Jon.
    “Ten years is quiet the accomplishment.” Diana commented. Bruce and you shared a smile. It was, and you still loved him like the first day. There was a lot you went through together, but you didn’t regretted one second of it.  You loved your husband and the life you had build with him.
    “Hard to believe it has been this long.” Clark stated. He laughed to himself. “I can still remember telling Pa that I missed my chance with you.”
Bruce’s head suddenly snapped up, his eyes registering shock. But as quickly as he could, he made his expression to a passive expression, though his eyes were aimed directly at Clark as if shooting invisible daggers.  This was new to him.
    Your other guests froze and Tim’s mouth fell open. Damian supply moved closer to you, glaring at Clark. Next to him Jon looked up shocked at his own mother, who only rolled their eyes and shook their head with a smile. They oblivious knew the story. The rest of the table looked as if they were waiting for something as they shifted their gazes from Bruce to you to Clark and back again. To those it came a bit of a shock when you laughed. “That was a long time ago.” you said, for once not noticing the tension as you were caught up in memories. “I think my mom was pouting, too.”
    The glances of your family snapped to you. You rose an eyebrow before you realized that you had never told them the story. No because you were keeping secrets, but because it simply never came up. You looked at Bruce and took his hand, giving him a smile. Before you could say anything, he got up. “If you excuse me.” he said getting up.
    You frowned as he left the room. “I’ll be right back.” you excused yourself to go after him, knowing you had to clear this up right. Bruce had always been rather jealous. Nobody uttered a word until the footsteps faded along the corridor. After a while Damian jumped up and sneaked after his parents, Tim right behind him. Jason and Dick exchanged a glance and followed them. None of them planned to let you see them, but they had to know what was going on.
    Then it was quiet. “I thought we would never see you get out of that alive, Clark.” Hal joked with his lopsided smile. Jon’s mom nodded and agreed. They turned and kissed Clark on his lips, which the latter returned with enthusiasm. "Be a bit more careful when teasing your friend.” they said, cupped his face with her hand.
    Clark gave a laugh, giving you an innocent shrug. “Were would be the fun in that?” he asked. Noticing everyone else’s confused looks he grinned. “It isn’t what you think.” he explained and started telling the others the story.


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May 17, 1917 - German Tank Trials in Mainz

Pictured - Panzeralarm!

As the Battle of Arras finally ended, the Germans began testing tanks at a design field in Mainz. The initial German reaction to enemy British tanks - and now the French had deployed them as well, during the Nivelle Offensive - had been shock, even sometimes terror. But the armored behemoths had hardly altered the course of the war. Most times they broke down, and the Germans found that artillery and even very heavy rifles could puncture their armor.

The German army never gave up its conservative focus on infantry, at least until the next war. Nevertheless, the Entente had a weapon that Germany needed too. At the Mainz trials, a study section of the German transport department, 7 Abteilung 7 Verkehrswesen, displayed their unimaginatively named A7V tank.

Designed by Joseph Vollmer, the A7V was built on top of an Austrian Holt tractor chassis, carrying 30 tons of 30mm armor, machine guns, and a rapid fire artillery piece at the front. The trial tank was unarmored but carried bags of sand to compensate. The beast chugged along at 12 km per hour, overcrowded with a 17-man crew, mechanics, drivers, and gunner, who hung about the compartmentalized interior, sucking in noxious fumes from the engine right at the center.

The German army ordered 100 into production, but only 20 ended up being built before the war ended. They served adequately during the German Spring Offensive of March 1918, but ended up more as a propaganda piece than a common part of military equipment.