• <p> <b>My Brain:</b> How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore and a- HEYYYYY HEYYY shiksa goddess I've been waiting for someone like you I dreamed a dream of endless summerrrrrPOPular you're gonna be popUUlar IM A DEAD GIRL WALKING springggg and summmmerrrr EVERY OTHER DAYYYYY 525,600 minutes, 525,000 moments so dear NINETY-SIX THOUSAND the green green dress, twenty buttons and a strap who lives, who dies who tells your stooooorrrryyyy...<p/><b>Me:</b> Hold on, those weren't the right lyrics.<p/></p>
12 times peter kissed y/n

don’t hate me for this


  1. As toddlers, you and Peter met at daycare. You approached him after thinking of him- as your mother still teases you with- “the least stupid kid there” and after a solid day of block tower building, you kissed his cheek before leaving.
  2. As older children, you were just as heartbroken to hear that Uncle Ben had passed. Uncountable tears flowed and on his funeral, Peter receives a small, tear-flavoured kiss on his cheek. He squeezed your hand carefully and somehow managed to give you a small smile, though quickly tears were running down both his and your cheeks again.
  3. As a fourteen year old, you caught Peter staring at you. After teasing him relentlessly for days, you said “No hard feelings, bug” and kissed his respective cheek again, only to have his face turn the brightest shade of red and your laugh to echo through the cafeteria.
  4. As fifteen year olds, you two started dating and after you first date, there was the first actual kiss. In front of your apartment building, hiding for the rain after Peter walked you home from the arcade. It was a longing, sweet kiss waiting to happen and after laughing at Peter’s “Damn”, it was followed by more. Many more since that happened.
  5. At sixteen, you walked in on Peter in the spidey suit, your mouth dropping open. “Woah-holy shit” is the only noise that you made after a solid two minutes of staring as Peter tried, and failed, to explain what was actually going on. You shut him up with a kiss, the heart soaring kind that you melt into and all was well.
  6. At eighteen, you got a call from an unknown number. After picking up, you were told by Tony Stark himself that Peter got hurt on a mission, that he was in a critical condition and a car was on the way to pick you up. Your world stopped. You dropped your phone and after sobbing for a good moment, you picked your phone back up as you hurried down your apartment building. A kiss quickly followed as you saw Peter, straight out of surgery and perfectly fine- bless Tony Stark.
  7. As twenty three year olds, you kissed Peter with the biggest smile on your face after you both had signed your joining apartment, in front of your landlord’s office. Real. Official. Proud. More happy than anything.  
  8. At twenty six, your mouth fell open as Peter sank down on one knee. After nodding and yelling yes over the traffic on the Brooklyn Bridge, which earned applause from bystanders and Ned filming every bit, you pulled him up a bit and kissed him in the way your heart skips a beat or two.
  9. As twenty eight year olds, you two finally got married. As cliche it is, one of the best days of your life, accompanied with one of the best kisses of your life.
  10. At thirty two, after the most painful and tiring moment of your life, you shared a sweet, short kiss. In Peter’s arms was the baby girl that you were more then happy to call you yours.
  11. At fifty, after letting out a deep sigh, you tilted your head to give Peter a kiss. You already felt sad, even though your daughter had barely left the driveway.
  12. “I love you so much” Ninety nine. A short kiss, one that tasted like tears and remembrance. Peter closed his eyes.

tags: @travelwithwords @khai-day-the-13th @courtney-chanelle @spiderween @cabinetxbattles 

i want to be tagged

Touch Starved Tony

This is the first draft, I might so a full rewrite of it eventually and post it on AO3, but for now have some Ironhawk fluffiness.

Tony Stark was a genius practically from birth, put in the spotlight by both association and skill. Nobody was surprised when the rich boy started sleeping around with college kids years older than he was.

Tony remembers being 4 years old, circuit board grasped in tiny fingers. He remembers his father’s arm around his shoulder.

He remembers being 6 an engine on the counter, and his father’s hand on his shoulder, a smile on his face. He remembers Jarvis, and a lot of hugs.

Then he remembers boarding school. Remembers kids’ years older than him who only ever reached out to remind him that he was weakest among them. He remembers teachers who sneered when he corrected them.

He remembers Christmas break and the first hug he’d had in months. He remembers every Christmas break after that and the warmth of Jarvis arms.

He remembers Obie’s hand on his shoulder the day his parents died. He remembers thinking that he would never get a hug from Jarvis again.

He remembers having sex for the first time, he didn’t know her name, heck he barely knew his own name. But he remembered the feel of her skin against his.

He remembers the day he realized people only touched him when they wanted something. With women it was either sex or money, with Obie it was new weapons, and more professional behavior. He remembers realizing that he didn’t particularly care what they wanted if he got even a second of contact.

He remembers the day he realized that Rhodey didn’t hug him with intent. He remembers the day Rhodey shipped out for the first time.

He remembers a string of one night stands and the feeling of flesh on flesh. The feeling of warmth.

He remembers the day he returned from Afghanistan and realized that with the open vulnerability sitting in his chest sex wasn’t an option anymore.

He remembers dancing with Pepper. Remembers holding her in his arms. He remembers letting her go when she asked him to.

He remembers killing Obie, remembers knowing the man had tried to kill him. He remembers mourning the side hugs, and encouraging pats on the shoulder.

He remembers the day the Avengers agreed to move in.

“Jarvis, Jarvis, are all of their rooms ready? The passive surveillance is all set up so they don’t get uncomfortable? And Steve’s is all retro? Natasha has the memory foam bed right? She said she liked memory foam. Do you think they’ll like it?” Tony babbles, he hasn’t slept in three days, ever since they agreed to move in. He had to get everything ready.

“Of course, Sir. All of that has been completed. I am sure they will love it.” Jarvis assures him. Tony nods, trying to settle, hands flying up to fix the mess his hair has become. “Good, good, do I need to shave? I should shave.” He heads for the elevator, fingers tracing over the messy ages of his beard.

“Sir, this is not a date I do not believe shaving is necessary.” Jarvis cuts in, halting Tony on his path to the elevator. “Also, your guests are here.”

“They’re here! Jarvis why didn’t you tell me? Take me down to the lobby to get them.” He spends the elevator ride trying to fix his hair, it doesn’t seem to have done much good.

“Hello Mr. Stark, thank you for inviting us.” Steve says, hefting his duffle bag up on his shoulder.

“It’s no problem, and please Cap, call me Tony.” He says, gesturing for them to board the elevator.

“Still, nice of you to open your home to us.” Natasha says, smiling at him. Her eyes are searching though. Most likely for a motive.

“It’s not just my home now, it’s yours too.” He says, shrugging. Natasha elbows Clint in the least subtle way possible, and Tony watches, mildly impressed as he manages to keep hold of his boxes.

“Oh yeah, thanks dude.” Clint says, peeking out from behind a stack of boxes with Natasha’s careful script on them. “Okay, Natasha, you’re on floor 74. Clint you get 75, they do connect at multiple points and you can feel free to share space.” Tony says, hitting the necessary buttons and gesturing to the eye scanner. “Steve, you’re on 76, and I’m saving 77 for your friend.”

“Tony, we don’t need whole floors.” Steve protests. Looking at his duffle bag Tony suspects that is true, he’ll need to buy the man some clothes and things.

“Speak for yourself Rogers.” Clint says, elbowing the super soldier in the side. It probably hurt his elbow more than it did Steve, but it gets his point across. Tony elects to ignore both of them.

“Brucie-bear, you have 78, although the hulk room expands into 79. I put your lab on your floor because I figured it would be more comfortable.

“Thor gets 79, since he’ll be here the least he shouldn’t mind the loss of space. Common areas are on floor 80, and the penthouse is obviously mine. 81 through 84 are set up for Sam Wilson, guests, more guests, and Rhodey respectively.” Tony explains. “If you need anything from Jarvis you will have to enter the elevator or a common area, as I have set your rooms to passive surveillance only to avoid any discomfort you may feel.” The elevator stops and the doors slide open to reveal Natasha’s floor.

“No Jarvis beyond this point, but there is a top of the line security system so please try not to break any windows.” Tony says, stepping aside, Clint gets off the elevator while Natasha picks up her own stack of boxes and follows him.

It takes an hour to get everyone settled in. Steve thanks him profusely, and talks about how his floor is too much. Bruce thanks him quietly and disappears into his rooms. Natasha calls him kitten in Russian and smiles at him before disappearing into her rooms with a comment about dress shopping.

“Stark!” Clint is bouncing on the balls of his feet when Tony knocks on his door to check on him. “Stark! You built me an archery range on my floor? You are the absolute best!” For a moment, it looks like he’s going to hug him, and then there’s a warm weight of Clint’s hand on his shoulder for half a second. “God, I am never leaving this tower.”

“Glad you like it.” Tony says, trying to ignore how warm his shoulder feels. Trying to ignore how his heart is beating against his ribs. It’s been almost three months since he’s seen Rhodey, and therefore three months since someone has touched him in a friendly way. It feels better than flying in the suit ever does.

He’s not surprised with the lack of physical contact from the others. They were busy moving in, and he knows they all have their own hang-ups. It’s really not a big deal. He’s working on new armor for Steve now anyways, so maybe he can get a hug or something after.

“Stop kidding yourself Stark.” He grumbles, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. There are dark circles under his eyes, it’s probably time he actually gets some sleep. “They won’t want you. Not a team player, remember? Fucking talking to yourself in the bathroom mirror, no wonder you only have three friends.” He sleeps until well into the next afternoon, and then disappears into his lab.

“Sir, Captain Rogers is asking for you. He says the team wants to do dinner tonight in the common room.” Jarvis informs him.

“They want me to come?” He asks, there’s no one here but Jarvis and still the caution creeps into his voice. He can’t help but hide hope behind an air of nonchalance.  

“Of course, Sir.” Jarvis says. Steve had asked him to tell Tony to come, they clearly wanted him there.

“Tell Cap I’ll be there.” He says, hiding a smile in his work.

He goes to team dinner, and the next one, and training. He tries to live off of awkward brushes of hands, and sharp kicks for practice. He reminds himself that just because they are here, doesn’t mean they’ll like him. They don’t owe him hugs.

Tony was fine, really. Completely, and totally fine.

He finishes the first round of upgrade and eagerly calls them to the lab.

“I made things!” He says, a new quiver clutched in his hands. He’s practically vibrating with excitement, hugs are a relatively normal part of gratitude he could get a hug.

“Is that a quiver?” Clint asks, Tony hits the button on the side there’s a noise as the arrow head is attached. “Shit automated, what a beaut.” Tony blushes, handing it over. Clint snatches up his bow, practically running for the range. No hug. Tony turns to Natasha.

“Upgraded widow bites with stun, knock out, kill, and Thor settings.” He offers, holding them out to her, she grins at him, taking them from his hands.

“Thanks Stark.” She winks at him as she stalks out of the room. “These will be so useful.” She doesn’t hug him on the way out.

“Steve, new body armor. Less ab plating more protection.” He explains, holding up the new and improved suit. “Also, less zippers, that look was so nineties Steve you don’t understand.” Steve smiles at him.

“No, I don’t, but I appreciate the new suit all the same.” He says, Tony beams at him. Steve claps a hand on his shoulder as he leaves. Tony tries to pretend the warmth is enough. Revels in the feeling from that small touch. It’s not enough, maybe if he makes them more gear.

“You look tired Tones, maybe you should get some rest, you can show me Hulk’s gift tomorrow.” Bruce offers, he’s so kind. If Tony looked bad enough he might help him to bed, hold onto him. It would be nice.

“Yeah, I’m going to go to bed.” He mumbles, the pattern continues. Tony remains cold, and untouched.  They fight bad guys, they eat dinner, and nobody hugs Tony.

The suit was gone, ripped off in the battle. He was beaten up, a little bloody but still standing when the witch landed in front of him, lobbing a ball of what he presumed was magic at his chest.

“Let’s see how the world likes you when your deepest desires spill from your lips. How will they feel knowing how perverted you are?” They asked, Tony’s jaw ticks as he clenches it shut. The witch disappears.

“Your darkest desire, huh Stark?” Clint teases. “Can’t be too bad. Want to sleep with a man? Want to kill someone on the team? Want to kill one of the villains we fight?” Tony’s vibrating with frustration, desperately trying to remain silent.

“Clint, stop.” Natasha scolds. “Your desires aren’t you as a person, no matter how dark we won’t blame you.” She assures him, standing on the rubble strewn street. Tony turns wide eyes to Steve and Bruce.

“We won’t.” They assure him. He relaxes his shoulders slightly, his mouth parting against his will.

“I want a hug. Please, I just, I just want a hug.” He begs, face flushing with embarrassment. It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Tony’s head drops, eyes tearing up. “I understand. I know it’s weak, I’m sorry.”

“A freaking hug is your darkest desire?” Clint blurts out, taking a step towards him. Tony nods miserably. “A goddamn hug? How are you so good?” Tony finds himself wrapped in strong arms a moment later. “A goddamn hug.” Clint grumbles.

“I know it’s weak, and stupid. I’m sorry.” Tony whispers, he knows he should pull back, but he lets himself slump against Clint’s shoulder. Let’s himself be held.

“Shut up. You’re goddamn perfect. Your darkest desire is a hug Tony. That’s so ridiculously pleasant.” Clint grumbles, nuzzling into Tony’s hair.  

“It’s so dumb, you guys don’t owe me anything, I can’t expect hugs. I shouldn’t have. Got my hopes up, cause I’m dumb.” Tony mumbles, hands clenched in the back of Clint’s shirt. “You can let go now, I won’t be a bother.”

“Nope, we’re going back to the tower, and cuddling.” He’s surprised the others haven’t gotten over their shock and come to join the hug yet. “God, how did I not know you wanted hugs, I could have offered non-stop cuddles.” Clint laments. Natasha seems to have gotten over her shock, and she practically sprints over, leaping at them. Tony flinches just before she makes contact wrapping them both in a hug.

“Do not be afraid.” She grumbles. He doesn’t look at her, face still buried in Clint’s shoulder.

“I shouldn’t have assumed you’d want to hug me. Shouldn’t have asked. Don’t deserve it.” Tony mumbles. “Can’t expect hugs as payment. No buying people’s love.” The words come out like a mantra. She whacks the back of his head.

“You assumed I wouldn’t want to hug you idiot, not that I would. There is no harm in asking.” She scolds. Clint nods, puffing a breath of air into Tony’s hair.

“Didn’t want any of you to feel obligated.” He mumbles. Clint’s grip tightens, and he feels Steve and Bruce joining the fray, a warm line of skin across his shoulders and lower back.

“No, Tony. We don’t feel obligated.” Clint assures him. “Just guilty that we missed out on giving you something you need.”

“Don’t need hugs, I’m fine.” Tony grumbles, but he still hasn’t made any move to pull away.

“Shut up.” Natasha grumbles, Bruce nods in agreement, half asleep from the Hulk out. “You need hugs. Don’t worry, we’re happy to provide.” She steps on Steve’s foot when he doesn’t say anything in agreement.

“Of course, Tony, you’re our teammate, and our friend.” Steve says, pulling back slightly. The hug starts to pull apart then, leaving only Clint with Tony wrapped around him like a koala.

“I should let go now.” Tony mumbles, releasing his grip on Clint’s shirt. Clint frowns, they need to get back to the tower, but how to best do that without letting go, he slides his hand around Tony’s waist, hand resting on his hip.

“This okay?” He asks, squeezing gently. Tony nods with such ferocity Clint worries he’ll get whiplash. “Good, let’s get you home for some more cuddles.” Tony nods agreeably.

“Thanks Clint.” He mumbles. “You’re my favorite.” He’s not sure Clint heard, words buried in the archer’s shoulder. The walk home is warm, pleasant, and absolutely terrifying.

They’re almost to the tower before the panic starts to set in, fears arising that this was all just a show, and that once they get inside he’ll be back to feeling cold and alone in a crowded house. Even if it wasn’t a show, he’s clingy, he knows it. They’ll get sick of him.

“To the couch.” Clint announces, pushing Tony down on the cushions, and lying on top of him. The panic recedes. He’s warm, he’s safe he can enjoy this.

Tony is worried that they’ll get tired of how clingy he is, so he has a plan. He gets one hour with them every day and then he needs to either work or sleep. As long as he leaves the room before they get tired of him. It’s a good plan.

“Tony, won’t you hang out for a movie after breakfast?” Clint asks, sliding an arm around his shoulder. Movies are normally at least 2 hours long, which puts him over the hour limit on snuggle time.

“I’d love to.” He admits, “But, I need to work on the suit.” He leans into Clint’s grasp anyways. “I really should work.”

“Yeah.” Clint says. “You can do that after we watch a movie though, right?” Watching movies and cuddling is normal, so maybe he can do two hours a day, and it will be okay.

“Right.” Tony agrees. “I can do that.” Clint might not even want to cuddle anyways. Which would mean it wouldn’t count as part of his hour, it only counts if there’s cuddling, right?

“Awesome, I could use a couple hours of snuggling.” Clint cheers, dragging Tony into the den. Well, if it’s Clint’s idea then he can’t accuse Tony of being clingy right. “You’re so warm, perfect for snuggling.” Tony nods absently.

“You sure?” Tony asks.


He doesn’t make it back to the lab after the movie, Clint slides in another disc and they stay curled up on the couch for hours. As much as Tony wants to say no, wants to make sure Clint doesn’t get tired of his clinginess, he can’t. He can’t say no, not when Clint’s arms are warm around him. He just holds on, waiting for the touching to die down.

He spends months waiting for Natasha to stop hugging him every time she sees him, or Steve to stop awkwardly hugging him when he makes new things. He waits for Bruce to stop inviting him to yoga, and helping him with positions. He waits for Thor to stop greeting him with tight hugs that lift his feet off the ground. He waits for Clint to stop inviting him to cuddle.

He waits for months until he realizes he’s not waiting anymore. He waits until he realizes they aren’t going anywhere.

@ifdragonscouldtalk and @dont-hurt-tony-stark I know you like these, <3

I’ve been asked many times to share some of my deleted scenes from the Raven Cycle. The outtakes. Here’s the thing:

- they do exist. The Dream Thieves is 125k words long, give or take. My outtakes file for it — stuff that I cut out of the draft — is about 150k words long.

- they’re not exciting.

- they are either more boring versions of scenes that are in the book, bits of scenes that were going on for too long, or aborted plot lines. Sometimes they were me just writing my way around in circles while I figured out what I wanted out of life. Bits of book 2 ended up in book 3 and book 1 ended up in book 4, etc. etc. Timelines were always strange — The Dream Thieves used to begin with a prologue where Ronan lost the Camaro to Kavinsky in a drag race, and a lot of the outtakes involve me writing my way out of that. 

That said, here are some bits and bobs from the Dream Thieves outtakes file. Under a cut, because this is a lot of words. Still not even approaching the number of words in the outtakes file. But. A lot of words.

Keep reading

Kylie Minogue’s (Likely) Comeback Single Was Produced By Sigala

Kylie Minogue’s pop comeback might be a lot closer than we thought with news that the likely lead single was produced by Sigala, the UK DJ behind club hits like “Easy Love” and “Say You Do.” He let a few details slip in an interview with The Sun, describing the song as having “a ‘Spinning Around’ vibe.” So far, so good! “I’m influenced a lot by the Nineties so it makes sense for me to work with her,” Bruce Fielder (his real name) revealed. “It fitted really well.” As for the sound? “It’s cool that it sounds throwback but it needs to sound modern as well to take Kylie’s career forward.”

It’s about waiting for somebody to tell you how they feel and being like, ‘Come on, let’s get it out in the open and stop messing around. Tell me what you’re waiting for.‘” The inspiration for the song could be the pop diva’s break-up with boyfriend Joshua Sasse. “After splitting from Joshua maybe that’s why she picked it because she wants people to be honest with her.” Sigala isn’t the only confirmed collaborator. Kylie has also been in the studio with Richard “Biff” Stannard, Xenomania producer Brian Higgins and Guy Chambers.

Interestingly, the album is rumored to touch on world issues. “It looks like her album could be her most political yet too, with talk of tracks covering issues like LGBT rights,” a source told The Sun. “Kylie just wants to make an album that will start conversations.” While we wait for music to arrive, check out Sigala’s breakthrough smash below.

100 Kisses

Summary: You decide to give Bucky 100 kisses for his 100th birthday.

Word Count: 2,845

Warning: cursing

A/N: I’m sure in parts of the world Bucky’s birthday is long over, but it’s still March 10th where I live! Happy Birthday, Bucky Barnes!

9:15 am

Steve Rogers stared at you with wide blue eyes as you attempted to wolf down a bowl of cereal. There were many things out of place in this picture—for one thing, he couldn’t quite fathom how a person could so wildly eat cheerios, your spoon constantly clanging against the sides of the bowl.

For another thing, it was rare that you were up this early on a Friday, even if it was a special occasion. He glanced at the clock opposite him, noting that it was only fifteen past nine in the morning.

The super soldier opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped short at the abrupt sound of your chair scraping its legs against the floor. You shot out of your seat to drop your wares in the sink before floating across the table, depositing yourself in Bucky Barnes’ lap.

Bucky eyed you with a smirk, still chewing his breakfast while you placed your hands around his neck. You stared at him with doe eyes, batting your lashes heavily. “You need somethin’ darlin?” he questioned you, the tips of his lips curving into a smile despite the pointed look he was trying to give.

“Uhhhhh hurry up!” You bounced impatiently on his thigh, squirming around as you started to slip. “I’m only at twenty-seven!”

“Twenty-seven what?” For a quick moment, everything you could have possibly meant flashed into Steve’s mind, some of them not exactly what he wanted to think about over his first meal. With a quirked eyebrow he looked at the close couple, searching their faces for an explanation.

“I’m trying to mmm-” Your voice was cut off when your boyfriend shoved toast into your mouth, the jam smearing across your lips and making it sticky. Smugly, Bucky returned his attention to Steve, who watched on with a bewildered expression.

“She’s attempting to give me one hundred kisses today.” His voice was laced with mirth, a silly smile plastered onto his lips that juxtaposed his usual expression. Steve laughed, understanding your restless behavior.

“Did she give you ninety-nine last year?” Steve asked, very amused by the challenge, but also grateful. While your idea was strange, he found it sweet and affectionate; just the type of love Bucky needed after years of solitude.

“He hid his birthday from me last year, and now he has to pay for it!” you accused, poking your finger into his chest. “Besides, one hundred is a special milestone! Much more so than ninety-nine.”

“Most people don’t make it to ninety-nine,” Bucky pointed out, prodding your cheek with the end of his fork. You could see him fighting the urge to cave into your demands, hiding his grin with a cup of coffee. His eyes seemed to shimmer, much like they did when Steve brought him to the tower for the first time.

It felt like so many years ago that you’d met Bucky, a cautious, broken thing with eyes like glass. You didn’t think you’d ever get to see him so comfortable, so relaxed, so human. It made your heart swell, more so than the kisses ever could.

“Well then, even less people make it to one hundred. I’m glad you’re one of them,” your smile softened as you placed a kiss to his temple, his eyes closing in reverence. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, placing his head against yours.

“I’m glad you’re here with me. You too, punk,” the brunette’s eyes picked up to Steve’s, narrowing playfully. “I see you over there.”

With a grin, Steve held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Who me? I’m not doing a thing. Just watching my best friend be totally disgusting with his girlfriend.” He was shaking now, wiping a tear away from his eye as his laughter continued.

“I guess there’s some things one hundred years can’t change”

1:34 pm

“Fifty three…fifty four…fifty five…fifty six,” You were on a roll, having placing your lips back and forth against Bucky’s for a few solid minutes. You were getting fast, knowing that at some point he would grow impatient of sitting on the couch for such small pecks.

He hadn’t complained yet, a satisfied smile growing even wider as the other occupants of the room stared in horror while you repeatedly kissed Bucky, counting in between. Sam mimicked retching, his acting turning into an actual couching fit.

“Jesus Y/N, aren’t you tired? And I don’t just mean from having to look at Barnes in the first place.” His voice made you stop, turning to face the man with a weak glare. Wariness showed on your face, emphasized by your off-guard expression and swollen lips.

“Could you please be nice to him for like, one day out of the year? Actually two; Christmas is a good time to lay off him too.”

“Could you two maybe get a room? We’re trying to watch quality entertainment, not whatever gross thing you guys are doing,” Clint groaned, eyes still glued to the television. Tony and Sam agreed with a round of complaints, the entire room beginning to get rowdy.

“Why are we even watching this? It’s March Madness, turn on ESPN!”

“Um, the Joffrey Ballet is performing Romeo and Juliet and I’m missing it.”

“Would you guys mind if we put on Star Trek?”

“Fuck Next Generation, Brucey. Someone hand me the remote or put on How I Met Your Mother.”

All of a sudden the T.V went blank, the remote clanging to floor as you dropped it with your powers. The room was suddenly silent, no one daring to make a move as your eyes returned to normal.

“I was here first, and I say you’re all watching T.V. in another room,” Your voice became dangerously low, scarring the others to scamper out of their seats without any complaints. There were small apologies being thrown at you, mostly muttered from Clint and Tony. (“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t use your powers!”)

You smiled until a pair of lips were pressed firmly to yours, a much longer, heated kiss that stole your breath and your thoughts. Bucky had grabbed your waist, pulling you to straddle his lap once again.

“Sixty,” he reminded you, voice low as though he was sharing a secret. You blinked, forgetting what the numbers were for in the first place. He had that effect on you.

He smiled, a little embarrassed, but hugged you closer all the same. “I wanted to give you one. That was pretty hot.”  

6:28 pm

“What number are you guys on now?”

Natasha lazily swirled her spoon in her tea, head propped on her fist as she sent a smirk towards you and Bucky. By some miracle you weren’t completely smothering him, the two of you eating like normal people at the dinner table.

“Eighty-six. I’ve been spreading them out, he likes it better that way.” You beamed at him, unaware of his blushing state. Nat, however, noticed this right away, wiggling her brows to gain his attention.

“I’m sure that’s not the only thing he likes spread out,” she winked, and immediately after Bucky placed his head in his hands. A chorus of feminine cackles erupted, making his face even hotter.

“Bucky, please,” you wheezed out, holding a hand to your stomach. You gave his back a little rub, coaxing him out of his flushed state. “What are you acting all shy about, baby?” you teased him, the two of you calling him “ladies man” and “lover boy”, harping back to the stories Steve used to tell about him.

Bucky slowly lifted his head, hands still covering his face. “You know, I thought today was going to be more embarrassing for you than for me. How could I be so wrong?”

You rolled your eyes as his antics, prying his hands away. “C’mon Buckaroo,” you joked, trying to use as many dumb nickname as you could to calm him down. “We’re only teasing.”

“Relentlessly,” he added, and you scoffed, placing your hands on your hips.

“You’re one to talk about relentless! Do you want a list of all the times you’ve taunted me! You did that to me this morning!” Bucky peeked at you through his fingers, catching the frown etched on your face. “It’s only fair!”

“Sorry, don’t recall,” he muttered, getting up from his seat and walking away from you. You sputtered, standing quickly and bumping your thighs against the table.

“Hey!” he was starting to run now, even with very limited space. His back was retreating faster down the elevator corridor, and you picked up speed, getting a running start off the ground before you flew towards him.

“I can fly faster than you can run, Barnes!” you called after him, eyes glowing as you shot forward. Bucky suddenly turned, arms wide open, ready to catch you with a solid stance. You tried to slow down, but you were hurdling toward him like a comet. The force of your collision sent him skidding backwards, his feet tripping over themselves to regain a sense of balance.

You ended up twirling like a top, his arms wrapped around you as you spun into the elevator. Your giggles turned into a hiccups, only to be silenced by a kiss. A deep and slow one, melding your mouths together and ultimately grounding you. Any dizziness that persisted afterwards was not from being spun, but rather from the kiss that had you seeing stars.

“Eighty-seven,” you counted proudly, without a single hiccup.

10:04 pm

Ten o’ clock wasn’t late by any means, but it had been a long day.

There had been something of a party in the common room since seven; a small gathering that consisted of the Avengers, and a few other agents Bucky knew well. Tony had promised it wouldn’t be anything he wasn’t comfortable with, and that if he wanted the celebration over, he could have it.

Tony kept his word. Even though Bucky had been having fun, he realized that while he was busy catching up with Thor and Scott Lang, Y/N had hardly been by his side. Perhaps it was the suddenness of it all, but he felt immensely detached, gazing at her from across the room with longing looks.

You were quite adept at deciphering Bucky’s looks, even from far away. He’d given you this long stare, his baby blue hues so cloudy and dull, reason enough to saunter over to him and press a quick kiss to his lips.

“You okay?” you asked him, concerned that he wasn’t having fun. He didn’t seem to suggest the idea, but you could tell that something was bothering him. The first two times you did it, he shook his head and granted you a small smile.

The third time was different. By the third kiss you felt his restless energy, his hands cupping both your cheeks, seeking some sort of outlet. You held his hands, looking straight into his eyes.

“Bucky,” you paused, making sure he was hearing you. “Bucky are you alright?”

He was beginning to nod, his hair falling into his eyes as he bowed his head, but his chin never came back up. “I’m fine, I just,” he sounded strained, his voice thick with some emotion you couldn’t quite place. “How many left?”

“Ten,” you told him, rubbing the pads of your thumbs over his hands. “Just ten more.”

He licked his lips, grabbing onto your wrist loosely and pulling you away. “I want to go.” He was using short sentences, his speech rushed and shoulders tense.  Today had been long, and social events tended to tire him out quicker than anything else.

“Okay baby, you stay right there, I’ll tell Tony.” You gave him a smile that was forced, the façade vanishing when you turned away from it. You nearly jogged to reach Tony, explaining the situation as best you could, despite not understanding it yourself.

He was good about it. Tony didn’t make a scene, he just waved graciously with a small smile. Bucky returned it, and suddenly the whole room was raising a glass in his leave.

“Happy Birthday, Buck! Hope you had fun.” Steve’s strong voice was wistful, but his smile was not at all sad. Bucky gave a salute, relief seeping back into him as you two looped arms, turning your backs to the avengers.

“You sure you’re okay?” It was simply precautionary, your worry fading when he gave a genuine smile.

“I’m fine, doll face. Just wanted to cash in those last ten kisses in private.”

 11:15 pm

He was smooth, in almost everything he did. It was scary, sometimes, how he could surprise you like that. Bucky appeared so sharp, so bent and twisted sometimes that you were always taken aback by how careful and soft he treated you.

His hands slowly went up your side, bunching the soft cotton of your pajamas impatiently. When he detached himself, his burning blue eyes looked straight at you, lips parted but unmoving, the question unspoken between you two.

“Ninety-eight,” you replied, breathing heavily against his lips, your foreheads touching. He’d been playing this game since he’d gotten you alone, taking charge of the gift you were supposed to give him. He rolled his hips under yours, nails digging into your sides almost painfully as he angled his mouth down for another go.

Suddenly his pursed lips met the pads of your fingers. He blinked, watching as you sat back on your knees, taking his wrists into your hands.

“This is my gift. You can’t take control of it, that makes it yours.” You felt like you were pouting, crossing your arms to convey your annoyance, even it if was acute.

Bucky laughed until he realized you were serious. “What? Darling, come on,” he persuaded, lifting up your chin. “It is for me.”

“Yeah, but it’s, I’m,” you struggled to form your thought into a coherent statement, one that would make sense. “I’m giving you one hundred kisses, in my time. You can’t cash them all in like a rain check.”

That seemed to do the trick, your boyfriend leaning back on his elbows, looking at you with raised brows. “Well when you put it like that,” he drawled, and you used your strength to push him down onto his back.

“When I put it like that,” you mocked him, landing on your side next to him. You grazed your finger across his jaw, tracing the outline down his neck and collarbone. His skin was hot to the touch, but shivers wracked his spine when your nails scratched under his chin. He was eager, hands twitching to touch you. You laughed at his restraint, cupping your hands to his cheeks and giving him a soft, tender kiss that lasted but a minute.

You didn’t need to say it out loud; you both understand that this was the last of them, the final kiss to mark his birthday. He smiled as he shifted to mirror your body, arms snaking around your neck. He wanted so desperately to say something, but before he could even think about it, your lips placed a small peck to his.

“One hundred! Happy Birthday, Bucky!” you grinned sneakily, and he grabbed you, pulling you onto his lap. You laughed at his expression, the fleeting anger that bubbling under his shock.

“What? That so does not count!” he yelled, feeling cheated. He pulled your wrists to bring your closer, so close that your chests touched and your eyes were solely focused on each other. You still stifled some giggles back, and Bucky finally sighed, resigned to the fact that, no matter how devious it was, you’d kept your promise.

“You’re forgetting something,” your chirpy voice reminded him, and he grumbled a quick response before you placed your hands on his chest. You captured his attention a mere moment before you captured his lips, this time in a kiss that mattered.

It started slow and hesitant, as though you were testing unsteady waters. Soon it became deeper, those hovering hands now fully immersed in his hair, tugging at the roots with just enough pull to spur him on further.

Bucky placed his hands on your hips, slowly sitting himself up, never breaking contact. He placed you back down onto the bed, his weight pressing against yours. Your resolve broke, that earlier statement off the table as Bucky guided you onto your back, trapping you between his arms. Your head pressed into the mattress, your body sinking as your breath was stolen from you, Bucky’s chest flush against you.

When the need for air became too hard to ignore, Bucky pulled back, a questioning glance on his face. “Pretty sure I’m not one hundred and one,” he inquired, and you smiled.

“One for good luck.” Your answer made him break out into a grin, one so contagious you nearly forgot about everything else. He slowly leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, a good and quick thing that conveyed everything it needed to.

“I don’t need luck when I’ve got you.”

CP bachelor AU: part 7

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6


Laurent isn’t stupid enough to take someone like Jokaste entirely at her word. He sends Nicaise to talk to Kyrina, for corroboration, and doesn’t act immediately. For a few days he considers his options; there are benefits to knowing something that the person playing on the other side of the board isn’t aware of you knowing. There are ways to use a pawn against its master.

In the end, he decides to deal with it directly. Minimise the damage, and move on.

They’re filming at the house again. The eight remaining suitors are proving their domestic skills in what Laurent expected Damen to declaim as a celebration of archaic gender roles. However, it turns out that Damen has no objections given that four of them are male, and even Damen might be willing to let his taste buds override his conscience when it comes to chocolate cake.

Some of Halvik’s eclectic experience was on a cooking show, back in the nineties, so Laurent lets her handle most of the actual baking segments. When Laurent strides onto the set, Halvik has disappeared and Aimeric is overseeing the aftermath, which largely consists of Damen eating cupcakes while the suitors ‘accidentally’ get icing on their fingers and try to lick it off in Damen’s line of sight.

“Stop,” Laurent commands.

Filming grinds to a halt. Laurent directs his gaze pointedly to the huddle of giggles in the corner of the kitchen nearest the pantry; Kallias looks up from where he is, apparently, sifting icing sugar into Erasmus’s hair. Erasmus is flushed with laughter.

“Aimeric,” Laurent says, into the expectant silence. “You’re fired.”

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In my algebra 1 class we had a really shitty teacher that did literally nothing the entire year so I was crying during my final exam so my friend came up to me and kept going over to the answer sheet and looking at it and coming over and telling me the answers and after a few minutes she got irritated with walking so she just brought it to me and my teacher watched me copy half of them down but she didn’t care so I made a ninety on my exam and had a C in the class and if that doesn’t perfectly describe our school idk what does.

bloomsoftly  asked:

Halloween prompts: wintershieldshock for #12 'I've got fifteen Apple pie recipes and we're going to test them all. Are you with me?' i love youuuuu

Thiiiiiiis miiiight be more about my love of pie than about the love of Darcy, Bucky and Steve D: But that’s okay cause I will be sharing my love of pie with you soon so this is like a precursor! Love you, bloombloomboomboombbnut!

12. ‘I’ve got fifteen Apple pie recipes and we’re going to test them all. Are you with me?’

Pairing: Bucky/Darcy/Steve

Rating G to T for a little implied smuff

Bucky ran into Steve’s back as he stopped still on the way into the apartment.

“What the-“ Bucky started.

“The hell?” Steve said at the same moment.

Bucky moved around the broad shoulders blocking his way, and found apples. Apples in blood reds and sour greens and soft pink and yellow shades, clumsily arranged on the counter, bags of flour and sugar and cases of butter and eggs squeezed in whereever they could fit. Darcy was behind the counter, her back to them, bent over a notebook as she flipped pages and muttered to herself.

“Hey there, Darce? Hon?” Steve said, passing him to the counter and lifting up a perfectly smooth red apple up from the corner. He brushed it across the shoulder of his shirt and had it poised at his lips when Darcy’s head lifted up and her arm swung back to point squarely at him.

“Don’t you dare eat that,” she said firmly, not turning. “I’m not sure I have security apples.”

“Security apples?” Steve mouthed to Bucky, setting the apple carefully back down on the marble.

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Pairing: Barry Allen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: the word ‘theoretically’ has been repeated so many times

Word Count: 1, 252

Summary: The reader is a theoretical physicist and a close friend of Cisco’s who’s been working with team Flash for a bit. Barry asks her for advice on how to ask his crush out.


A/N: My first time writing for Barry Allen (CW Flash)! I lost count of how many times I used the word ‘theoretically’. Hope you lovelies enjoy it!

Originally posted by trufflemores

You had just gotten your Master’s degree when you decided to visit one of your best friends from college a few months ago. You and Cisco kept in touch of course and you knew about his work at S.T.A.R. Labs, in fact you had helped him with a lot of the physics involved in helping the Flash. That’s why your little visit turned into a permanent stay as you continued to help team Flash while working on your PhD in Central City.

Over the course of the last few months, you’ve become pretty close with the team; particularly a certain fellow nerd who speeds around in a red suit when he’s saving the city. You’d stay late a lot of the time to get some of your work done and Barry Allen being the gentleman he is, would stay behind to keep you company or when he still had CSI work to do, he’d invite you to work beside him in his lab at the precinct. He’s come to have quite the crush on you, between the take-out you share during late-night work sessions to the inside jokes you’ve come to have that even Cisco didn’t understand. He found himself noticing every little thing about you and loving every quirk you have.

Pretty much the whole team had caught onto his crush. Cisco had been telling him to take you out on a date, and assuring him that you like him too. Although you had never explicitly said anything, Cisco always seems to know.

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  • the flirtiest zombie in the world lol
  • will flirt with anything, living or dead ;)
  • he wears long sleeves and skinny jeans to try and hide his rotting skin bc believe it or not people aren’t really attracted to rotting flesh
  • moisturizes every single day like if you can’t find yuta he’s probably rubbing zombie honey-scented lotion on his dead skin
  • his literal dead skin
  • also yeah yuta loves honey-scented things do you want to know why?
  • bc honey is a food that won’t start rotting until like 3000 years after it’s made,,,, and yuta highkey thinks it has some sort of power to it
  • anyway he loves w nct obviously
  • is super slow even though he doesn’t want to be
  • like he wants to zoom around and be excited but sometimes things get Zombified™ and all he can do is mutter a single “ugh”
  • which makes all the other boys laugh but yuta hates it!!!
  • anyway he super social esp in the zombie verse bc ghouls are probably the most common monsters in this universe
  • like humans are used to working along side zombies and every thing is okay until a baker!zombie drops his finger in the cake batter and forgets to tell everyone
  • but that doesn’t happen too often!!
  • anyway yuta goes to a zombie college called undead university or smth
  • yuta’s parents (adoptive zombie parents — that is) are both zombie socialites,, like they have this huge ball-type party where zombies wear the clothes they wore from the era they died in
  • and everyone eats hors d'oeuvres but it’s horse d'oeuvres bc it’s made w horse brain
  • so yuta’s parents always make him go to these things and he’s super annoyed like listen for a sec
  • yuta was a samurai in medieval japan when he died
  • so the armor he has to wear at these things
  • and don’t even get me started on the hairstyle it was long but like shaved on the top, then rolled around into a bun?? idk how to describe it but yuta has to wear a wig that looks like that for the party
  • it’s so extra and he lowkey looks like a strange transformer just look up samurai armor and imagine yuta in it like he looks like a goofball
  • he didn’t used to ofc
  • back when that was the armor and yuta had a decent hairstyle instead of a wig made specifically for rotting scalps
  • anyway the point is that yuta really hates these parties and he always tucks some extra clothes away in his armor so as soon as everyone’s back is turned he can leave
  • it’s not easy to leave when you’re a zombie though like they aren’t sneaky and their thumping footsteps can be heard miles away right
  • so now to you
  • you are also a zombie
  • and you don’t mind these parties as much bc you died during the nineties so you get to wear grunge style stuff and your hair can be covered under a beanie
  • which is extremely convenient bc whenever you try to brush your hair it never goes well
  • you end up as patchy mcbaldscalp
  • so anyways you come to the party in like converse and a flannel tied around your waist
  • and immediately you notice that every other zombie is like a billion years older than you
  • like they died old,,,,, but their era was super old too
  • youre pretty sure you see a zombie from ancient rome
  • literally,,,, caesar was probably his lab partner lol
  • so you hide out w the food for most of the night
  • soon you hear this clang of metal and you turn around (slowly bc ya know,,,, you’re a zombie)
  • and this zombie from like medieval japan is clanking towards you
  • you rlly don’t want to get caught up in a convo starting with “back in my day…”
  • listen, if you think humans are slow you have never heard a zombie tell a story
  • so you like look around for some kind of escape but before you can leave
  • the samurai is upon you
  • and he’s like “it must be my lucky day, cause i’m a zombie and you’re drop-dead gorgeous”
  • nd you’re like oh no not only is he an old zombie,,,, he’s a pervy old zombie
  • and you’re just about to tell him off for it when he slowly lifts up his helmet, and you can see his face
  • and it’s not bad looking tbh
  • at least not for someone who’s been dead 832 years amirite
  • you kinda stop like oh,,, a cute zombie,,,, a cute zombie boy whose eyes dont rlly seem dead but actually pretty alive,,,,,,
  • until
  • “i’m nakamoto yuta, but you can call me soon,” he says. and he winks
  • let me tell you a thing abt zombie winks: they never go as planned
  • for instance, yuta winked at you, and his eyeball fell out
  • like the whole eyeball,,,, starts rollin away,,,
  • and if zombies had blood it’d probably rush to his cheeks but instead he just drops his helmet and runs after it
  • and you watch him, lowkey amused because when he finally gets his eyeball back, he accidentally runs into a beam
  • and falls right onto his back
  • lol
  • you’re laughing obv but you zombie-run over like r u ok my dude
  • he just closes his eyes like “leave me here to die in my shame”
  • so yeah the way you guys met was pretty different
  • but as time went by you guys grew closer
  • which is good bc every other zombie your age is weird and still smells like a human
  • so anyway yuta always brings you over to the monct house to hang out
  • and the boys are all slowly getting used to having girls over since more of the members are finding dates
  • so they prepare like
  • witch!mark charms a special nail polish to accurately change colors with your mood
  • and forest spirit!jeno always finds the prettiest flowers to give as gifts
  • and basically all the monsters now clean up after themselves a lot more
  • anyway back to you and yuta
  • this might be because zombies lack brains and proper blood flow to said brain but you guys like doing stupid stuff
  • mostly to prank the other boys
  • like y'all are gross and will switch eyeballs to see if anyone notices
  • also you try to eat brains in front of the dreamies to see if they get grossed out
  • vampire!donghyuck is like not grossed out at all
  • werewolf pup!renjun might join you if it’s close to the full moon (cue being dragged away by werewolf!sicheng “you can’t eat raw meat you aren’t a real dog!”)
  • jaemin jisung and chenle all think it’s cool and lowkey want to try some
  • like it’s horse brain how bad can it be
  • you always tease yuta for his samurai outfit
  • and he’s like i was a warrior y/n!! i fought for japan!! i had a sword and everything!!! and i’ll have you know the ladies loved me a whole lot!!
  • “i’m sure they did, yuta”
  • you guys like listening to music from your different eras like yuta is now hooked on rock and roll and you like the theatrical sounds of nōgaku
  • you guys are the chilliest couple ever and most of your dates consist of laying around
  • sometimes you’ll moan “brraaiiiiiinnnnnsss!!!!!” just to annoy the others
  • but mostly not
  • anyway you guys are like a basic zombie couple: highkey chill and lowkey gross
  • it’s cool tho
  • so
  • anyways that’s zombie!yuta
  • hope you enjoyed!

part of the monster!nct collab w @trickortaeil

krysylyn86  asked:

Sterek Valentine Prompt: Stiles is the romantic one, he plans the dates and anniversaries, etc. Derek decides that for this Valentine's Day he's going to do something special but everything goes wrong/gets ruined, Stiles finds him pouting, possibly in the middle of a mess. Stiles comforts him, lots of fluff please :)

This was such a fun prompt! Also on ao3!

It was ruined. Everything was ruined.

Throughout their entire relationship, Stiles had been the romantic one despite his typically flippant, irreverent attitude especially when it came to love and romance. He was the one who planned all of their dates and anniversaries, the one who arranged surprise parties and holiday celebrations.

But with their first Valentine’s Day together quickly approaching, Derek decided to take the initiative and plan something himself. And, of course, everything had gone to shit.

There had been a mix up with the flowers he had ordered, a few days earlier placing an order for a bouquet of pink orchids and carnations in a bid to get away from cliché red roses. But the bouquet that arrived on his doorstep wasn’t what he ordered. Not at all.

It was a bouquet of stark white lilies. In all honesty, he wouldn’t have cared much about the order being messed up if the flowers were for anyone else, but white lilies were Stiles’ least favorite flower. He hated them.

They’d had white lilies at his mother’s funeral, the sickly sweet smell of pollen filling the Stilinski home for weeks following the funeral. Once upon a time, Stiles hadn’t really minded them but now all they did was remind him of death. Derek couldn’t very well give a bouquet of them to his boyfriend on Valentine’s Day.

He had immediately contacted the florist company he had ordered the flowers from, waiting on hold for upwards of twenty minutes before he actually got to talk to a real person. They informed him that they could rectify the mistake. But he wouldn’t get the correct bouquet until the next day, the company swamped with orders due to the holiday.

He contemplated simply ordering a new bouquet from another florist but everyone he called wasn’t accepting new orders, leaving him stuck with the wrong bouquet. Groaning, he dumped the flowers into the trash can, deciding that they just wouldn’t have any flowers. Flowers were overdone, anyway.

The box of chocolates he had gotten for Stiles was wrong, too. He had explicitly requested all peanut butter chocolates, Stiles’ absolute favorite, from a gourmet fine chocolate company but it had still gotten messed up.

Derek had snuck one of the candies, hoping Stiles wouldn’t mind that much or even notice, taking a bite out of the little chocolate only to find that it didn’t have a peanut butter filling. It had a strawberry center.

While normally that too would not have been very upsetting, Derek himself actually a huge fan of strawberries, there was one big problem. Because there was only one thing on the face of the earth that Stiles was allergic to ― strawberries.

Like the flower shop, the chocolate company offered to fix their mistake, the next business day of course. Popping another candy into his mouth, making a mental note that he would have to brush his teeth again before Stiles came over, Derek tossed the box of chocolates into the trash.

He consoled himself with the fact that chocolates were a little too cliché, almost as much as red roses. Besides, he didn’t imagine anaphylactic shock was all that romantic.

With both the flowers and the chocolates discarded, Derek had to think on his feet, racking his brain for some other way to show Stiles a great Valentine’s Day aside from mind-blowing sex. He finally settled on baking a red velvet cake which, while fitting the theme of the holiday, also happened to be Stiles’ flavor of cake. But that got ruined too.

The cake was burned to an ashen crisp in the oven, filling the loft’s kitchen with thick black smoke as Derek fumbled to throw the brick of charcoal that had once been a pan of cake batter into the sink, ignoring the burns the hot pan left on his hands. Coughing at the smoke that soon engulfed the entire loft, Derek grabbed a hand towel to wave by the smoke alarm that had blared to life with a piercing screech that physically hurt his ears.

He had managed to ruin everything. Stiles was going to arrive at the loft, see the damage he had done, and think that Derek was an awful boyfriend. And he would be right. Derek couldn’t even arrange something for Valentine’s Day without screwing it all up.

He buried his face in his hands, trying not to cry as the fire alarms continued their incessant shrieking, his ears ringing painfully. That was how Stiles found him fifteen minutes later when he let himself into the loft with the key Derek had given him for their two month anniversary.

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okay, so here i am: most of a bottle of wine, 2.5 bowls, and entire pint of ice cream down, watching 10 things i hate about you, because it’s the ultimate sadness reprieve movie and my beautiful future wife lady m is on a flight out east AND

  1. where is the 10 things i hate about you/she’s all that/90s romcom fic of my dreams where yuuri katsuki gets the makeover on a dare but victor nikiforov has literally been in love with yuuri katsuki since they were both six and yuuri katsuki ate glue
  2. 10 things i hate about you is actually a drama because it reminds you of how bitchin’ 1998 was, even in tacoma fucking washington, and you just miss!!! the late nineties!!! so much!!!
  3. okay but really in high school au it’s more like victor running around like, “someone bet me money to ask yuuri katsuki out???” and everyone is like, “you’re already dating him, dipwipe,” and he’s like, “PLEASE, DARE ME. SOMEONE PAY ME $50 IF I TAKE YUURI KATSUKI TO PROM AND HE WINS PROM KING,” even though literally everyone was already going to vote for him for prom king anyway, stop rubbing this shit in our face, victor??

rubyphilomela  asked:

I would kill for a fic of the Chocobros taking care of a really sick s/o. Bonus points for one that is stuck working while they are sick. Please and thank you!❤️

I’m sorry about the wait for this! Google really dislikes me right now with all it’s snapping (i was almost finished when it decided to go snap about an hour or so ago). But I hope that you’re feeling a lot better now or, if not, that you get well soon!

Only Gladio and Prompto are at work and I feel like they’re the longest ones. But I think I got Noct’s goofy side out in the open for the first time in quite a while.


When Gladio discovered that you were sick and going to work, he was training Noct in his back garden. You had let Iris know and she decided to tell him. Although Gladio was concerned, he didn’t particularly mind: he knew you had a string of meetings that you couldn’t really miss and he believed, or he hoped, that you would return home afterwards instead of lingering in your office for another three hours, staring at a blank page whilst trying to write a report.

He shrugged it off and continued training the young prince, laughing back and forth and going about his trolling ways, already planning on a way to sneak in an attack.

During their break, he looked at his phone to see if he had any messages. Thankfully though, you had just decided to call him. He answered, of course. “Hey, babe. How you feeling?”


“How dead? “

“Well, I have a throbbing headache and the arguements in these meetings aren’t helping me at all.” You sighed. “I kinda wish I decided to stay with you today.”

“Want us to collect you? It’ll just be me and Noct.”

“What about Iris?”

“She’s already in school.” He looked at Noct. “Besides, his highness here could do with a driving lesson.”

“In the crown city where thousands of people drive around?”

“Yup. Teach him careful driving.”

Noct simply glared at the offending, muscle-man.

“Okay. I’ll wait for you outside the office building. Make sure he doesn’t crash an that you drive on the way home.”

Gladio agreed to your request and then hung up, putting his phone back in his pocket. “C’mon, Noct. You’re gonna take us to __’s workplace an I’ll drive back. You good with that?”

“So long as you don’t become Ignis, then sure.”

The journey to your office buildin wasn’t as reckless as it normally was. There wasn’t a lot of traffic on the road due to nearby road works. He was glad that Noct had opted to drive at the speed limits rather than above or below them - like he did if Ignis was teaching him.

Once he parked, Gladio got out and Noct swiftly moved into the back. The shield waved at you and you carefully approached, yawning and rubbing one of your temples. He smiled at you and opened the passenger door for you to get in. Once you were in, he got in via the driver’s side,

“Did you take anything?” He asked you. When no reply came, her looked at you. “Babe?”

“Hm?” You looked at him.

“Have you taken anything?”

“Hm-hm. Yeah.” You nodded. “About four hours ago. The pain killer’s are starting to fade now…”

Gladio kissed your forehead gently and then began to drive again. “How about now/”

“Much better.”

Noctis grumbled. “Stop flirting. I’m trying to sleep here.”

Gladio chuckled. “Wnt me to flirt to you?”

“Please don’t.” You and Noctis replied in sync and that only made him laugh more.

Originally posted by stephicness

Prompto was the type to call you every few hours out of pure worry. Your day started much earlier than his, you shift usually starting at five and finishing at four. So by the time he awoke, you were three hours into your shift and a note was usually written so he could do things to help you out when you were tired.

But today, you had woken up to find him awake. And he just knew that you were ill. You hid it well, but he could still see it behind your eyes. “Have a good day at work.” Was all he could say. And when he went on his morning run, he took his camera and took pictures. But once he took one of the sun rising, he thought: I wonder if my princess is okay. So he called you. Then he called you when he got home, he called you at lunch. And the next time he called you were so annoyed that you gritted out words that pained him: I’d feel so much better if you just stopped calling me and let. Me. Work. And then you hung up.

If he wasn’t already feeling like hell was kiling him he definitely did now. You ha made him wonder if he had done something wrong, if he was going about something wrong You made him feel like a terrible boyfriend.

Oh, how far he was from the truth. But how was he supposed to know that? He couldn’t read minds. But he felt like shit because you hid you pain from him and then proceeded to pull the cold shoulder.

It wasn’t his fault he worried so much over you. You meant everything to him. You helped him through so much pain. The ray of sunshine soon turned into a rain cloud and he walked out the door to meet you outside your workplace.

When he arrived, he leaned against the wall and stared blankly, waiting for you to walk out the door. And when you did, he saw you look around, heard your pained sigh. And when you noticed him, you looked to the ground whilst you approached him. He couldn’t bare to see you like so, and he ran to you.

Prompto enveloped him into a warm embrace and he buried his face in your neck. “Don’t be sad. I’m sorry for calling you a stupid amount of times.”

“No. I’m sorry for my outburst.” You wrapped your arms around him. “It was sweet and I should have none that you were just making sure I was okay… I’m a horrible girlfriend and you’re and amazing boyfriend. You deserve so much more than me…”

The blond shook his head. “You’re special to me. And everyday I look forward to seeing you and hearing your voice. Just tell me if you’re unwell. Okay?”

You nodded. “So you can be my hero again?”

“Damn straight.” He nodded in determination and then chuckled at the realisation that he was as whimpy as they came. “At least as best I can. I’m not exactly in the crownsguard but I’ll try.” And he took your hands in his. “How does a cuddle session sound when we get back?”

“Sounds great.”

Originally posted by horaizon

Ignis knew you were sick way before you did. That was the good thing about his intuition: knowing when you were unwell. It saved you a lot of trouble, especially when it came to figuring out if you were actually unwell or if it was just your imagination. Of course, he couldn’t know everything but he certainly new more than you did. Which you found a little strange.

So when you woke up, you were pleasantly surprised to find Ignis walking into the room with your breakfast.

“Tomato soup, vitamin C and water.” He placed the tray on the bedside table and helped you to sit up, fluffing your pillows and then checking your temperature with the back of his hand. You were warmer than normal, feverish symptoms, and he frowned slightly. When he noticed your worried look, he put the tray on your lap.

“Is it serious?”

“Just a fever. Providing you rest up and I keep you cool, you’ll be fine.” He pressed a kiss onto your forehead and then stood. “I’ll return soon.”

“Wh-where are you going?”

“For my ebony, bowl of cool water and a cloth.” He smoothed a hand over your forehead and then left. And when he returned, he was surprised to see that you had finished everything, put the tray on the table and to find you sleeping peacefully. He smiled with a gentle sigh and sat on the edge of the bed, dabbing your forehead with the damp cloth. When you mumbled his name in your sleep and took to wrapping your arms around his neck tightly, he felt himself blush slightly before chuckling quietly. “Adorable thing, you are, my love.”

He was happy to at least see you being affectionate like this. It made him want to keep you home more, even though he’s have to leave every so often. But it did give him a happy reason to return early.

Originally posted by princelucis

Noctis had no utter clue what to do. And that was the truth. When you were sick, you were in a mood without you even knowing. Your constant scowl reminded him of his father’s daily expression and it wasn’t something he really enjoyed seeing.

What’s worse was that he didn’t even know you were sick until he tried cuddling you in his half asleep state.

“Get off me, Noct. You’re too hot.”

And you literally pushed him off you. That also put him in a terrible mood. He just wanted to cuddle you. Was that so bad? He didn’t think it was. Looking back, he didn’t even remember his father doing that if he was in a mood. Not even Gladio did after they became good friends. And that was what made him grumpy… You were the most comfortable person in the world and you were also the most evil woman he met when you were unwell.

So the prince huffed and he pulled the bed clothes off you, dragging them to the sofa so you were forced to cuddle him. But today you really weren’t in the mood. And you had actually messaged Ignis to call him and tell him you weren’t. But Noct was having none of your excuses. He believed the only cure to being ill was being shown how much you mean to someone. Because even though were were one percent, he’d give you ninety-nine so the loved shared was always at one hundred.

That was something Regis had taught him. And he lived by it.

So Noct sighed, stood and marched over to you. You were shivering now and he felt extremely guilty for his actions. The only thing he could do, which you had no choice but to accept, was to carry you back to the sofa. And that was exactly what he did. He picked you up and carried you bridal style, humming gently in order to keep you calm.

Instead of him getting under the duvet, he put you in his place and kissed  your forehead. “Don’t be mad at me.” He spoke gently, and it was clear how concerned he was. And how confused he was. “Even if you are at one percent, I’ll give you ninety-nine. So…please let me?”

Although you were annoyed, you nodded at him. “Okay.” He managed to slide in the space behind you, wrapping an arm around you whilst he snuck his other one under your head. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

“When I need cuddles from you, I get desperate. Me and you is Ignis and Ebony. You’re my ebony.”

“You just called yourself Iggy…”

“What? He’s taught me everything I know about life. He is an….inspiration…”

“Awwe. You’ve gone all mushy.”

He blushed and blew a raspberry on your shoulder. “Shush. You’re sick. So sleep.”

“What if I don’t want to sleep?” You turned and looked at him, pulling those puppy dog eyes out the bag.

“Okay okay. We’ll play King’s Knight…” He sighed.


And then he smirked. “But only if you 1) let me cuddle you. And 2) let me kiss you first.”

“Okay okay. But if you get sick -”

But he was quick to silence you with a fleeting kiss. “Now let’s play.”

Originally posted by airlea-sicarius

for @ishipallthings – happy belated birthday, dear! The gift is 84 years late, but I hope you enjoy the stony :)

Word Count: ~5400
Warnings: mention of abuse, non-graphic asthma, a Hamilton reference
Summary: StevexTony; Steve has a one-night stand on Sunday, and a job interview on Monday. Guess who is his potential boss’s son?

Six in the morning, and the world is just starting to wake up. Steve’s in the middle of the city, but deep enough into a nicer area that he can only hear traffic from a distance. The local noise is still crickets and sprinklers, and the occasional van rolling in with deliveries to the rich and famous dwelling here in the heart of Manhattan.

Steve’s sure enough he’s not going to get mugged here, and he’s tempted to savor the brightening solitude, but he can also feel the dull scratch of anxiety at the back of his mind. Maybe if it was a Saturday, he could have savored the pleasant ache in his body, given in to the compulsion to smile like a dope and be less concerned about his terrible bed head. If it were a Saturday, he wouldn’t have even gotten out of bed.

But here he is, loitering on the street on a Monday morning, thin frame wrapped in a shirt that was conspicuously missing a few buttons and definitely not fooling the throng of blue collar workers making their way to their employers’ terrifically expensive condos. Steve is just in the process of politely refusing a squished granola bar from the cavernous tote bag of a sweet granny type who speaks little English, but clearly manages to convey that she thinks he’s pillow pet who’s been kicked out before some rich-and-famous’s spouse returned, when he hears the familiar roar of Bucky’s motorcycle. Steve hastily thanks granny, vows to learn a little Vietnamese, and bolts.

He jumps on the back of the bike and hastily taps the side of Bucky’s hip. “Go go go!”

“Aw, runnin’ out on your girlfriend, Stevie?”

“Buck!” Steve grits his teeth desperately.

Bucky just laughs and tosses the spare helmet back.

“So,” he says happily, once Steve is all strapped in and they’re on the way back to their apartment on a less manicured side of town. “This all seems wildly irresponsible.”

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Like every child of divorce I had parent-trap fantasies. In fact, The Parent Trap was my favourite movie. I was a Nineties baby so I particularly loved the Lindsay Lohan version. I made a point of telling my mom how much I loved the movie — talked about it a lot. And then she started dating Dennis Quaid [who stars in the film]. And I was like, “Noooo! You got it all wrong! This is not what I meant at all!”