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Storms and Visitors {Sirius Black x Reader} *SMUT*

Blessing your feeds with some SMUT SMUT SMURT SMUT. This was so worth it to write. Next one will be Remus ;)

Regulus invites you at his house to stay for the night until the storm stops but Sirius has other plans.

WARNING: SMUT, DOMINANT!SIRIUS, SEXUAL THEMES, WASH YOUR EYES WITH SOAP AFTER READING THIS

Enjoy! @allertonn

xx

When the hard rain and the thunder rumbled into a magnificent chaos in the night sky, Disappparating was simply not an option. It was a huge mistake to leave the house especially for (Y/n). She had not yet learned how to Disapparate properly and even worse, she was stuck in Diagon Alley. Everyone had ran for cover as soon as the rain poured heavily and (Y/n) quickly stayed at Madam Malkin’s when she heard someone call her name.

“(Y/n)?” Regulus said, walking towards her with a smile. “How nice to see you here.”

“Regulus!” She exclaimed, clearly surprised as well to find her housemate in the shop. She came up to him with a long embrace before pulling back. “The weather’s crazy, isn’t it? A storm right in the middle of summer.”

“Yeah, it’s quite strange,” he agreed. “How are you?”

“Fine as usual. What’re you buying, by the way?” (Y/n) asked, peeking curiously at the coat he carried in his arm.

“Oh, I didn’t buy anything. This is my brother’s,” he said, showing the black coat with several holes. “He came to visit today since our parents aren’t home. I’m just getting it fixed for him.”

“That’s so sweet of you!” (Y/n) smiled, making Regulus blush.

“I guess so. We may hate each other but we’re still brothers,” he chuckled, rubbing his neck, a habit both Black brothers had when they wanted to ask something nervously. “Hey, listen, do you know how to get back home by yourself?”

“I’m still figuring it out. The rain doesn’t look like it’s stopping,” (Y/n) replied, looking up at the ceiling where she can hear the hard pitter patters of the rain.

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to stay at my house for the night. It’s quite late and I know you live very far but my house is near by. We can take some Floo powder instead so we won’t have to get wet.”

“Are you sure, Regulus? I-I don’t want to be a bother or anything…”

“It’s fine! I’m sure my brother won’t mind,” he reassured, “but if you don’t want, that’s fine too. I completely understand if you don’t want to come with me–”

“Regulus,” she comforted, “Thank you.”

She held his hand and rested her head on his shoulder as he lines up in front of the counter with a smile on his face.

Green flames erupted from the ashes of the fireplace in Grimmauld Place and out came (Y/n) first, shortly followed by Regulus. The dining room was dark and empty except their house elf who was carrying a silver tray.

“Welcome home, Master Regulus,” he greeted, “Kreacher sees his master brought company. How nice.”

“Oh, Kreacher, this is (Y/n). She’s staying her until the storm stops,” Regulus said, shaking off his coat and hanging it on the chair before taking a seat.

“Would the young miss like some tea?” Kreacher offered, showing her his silver tray full of teacups and teabags. “The bloodtraitor hates anything Kreacher gives. Kreacher thinks he should not eat anymore. Filthy bloodtraitor–”

“Just chamomile for me, thank you,” (Y/n) said, not wanting to hear what else he has to say about Sirius who just came down from the stairs.

“Regulus, is that you?” He called from behind the door before entering the dining room, his eyes immediately setting on (Y/n).

“Didn’t know your girlfriend will be here,” Sirius smirked as he leaned against the door frame. He was incoming his seventh year already and (Y/n) felt her heart race.

“She’s not my girlfriend, Sirius. She’s my…friend,” Regulus said the last part softly.

“I’m (Y/n). I’m just staying here for the night. I promise I won’t try to be a bother–”

“Hey, no worries. I don’t mind a little company,” Sirius said, “Regulus, why don’t you show her to our guest room? I’m sure she’s exhausted.”

(Y/n) have known about Sirius and the troubles he would cause back in Hogwarts but she had never expected him to be very welcoming especially to someone who was a Slytherin like his whole family. She imagined he would be more cold and maybe even worse but she was happy to know that he was polite and kind.

The two brothers led her to their guest room which had a large, four poster bed with a chandelier hanging on top. It was nice and clean and obviously, painted in gray and green. Regulus walked in to make sure it was comfortable enough for her when he heard the thunder rumble outside.

“The rain’s not stopping but I hope you’ll be able to get some rest. I’m assuming you’ve had dinner already?”

“Yeah,” (Y/n) answered before walking towards him. “Thank you for letting me stay. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be soaking wet in Diagon Alley.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispered shyly, feeling his cheeks redden once more. “If you need anything, I’ll be down the hall.”

“Thank you. Good night, Regulus.”

“Good night, (Y/n).”

The door creaked softly as the brother entered the room. He kept his footsteps light while his eyes watched (Y/n)’s chest rise up and down, her hand holding tight onto the pillow as she dreamed. Her neck was completely exposed but as he approached her closer, he saw that she was only dressed in her lace underwear.

Sirius felt himself harden at the sight, not being able to contain the temptation any longer. He crawled slowly and gently on top of her. He trailed his lips from her collarbone up to her throat until he reached her chin. She really looked delectable.  She moaned at the feeling, the sound driving him insane as he kissed her neck.

Sirius…”

He pulled away at the mention of his name, checking if she was awake. Her eyelids slowly opened as he watched her carefully but she did not seem surprised. She smiled and slipped her fingers through his thick, dark locks.

“Why’d you stop, darlin’?”

Sirius immediately dove in to taste her lips. He kissed her rapaciously, his tongue begging for entrance, needing to feel the sensation of her tongue playing with his. She allowed him to slip inside while grinding against the tent that had formed in his trousers. It made him moan and even want her more. Throwing his shirt aside, he licked his lip and stripped her off her undergarments before proceeding to remove his pants. His cock was already aching from the tight confines of his jeans and the dark spot on his boxers was enough evidence to show her how much he wanted her. He licked her neck up and down before he bit her earlobe softly, his hand trailing down to her breasts. He pinched her nipple between his fingers and as she let out a moan, he began to massage her.

“ ‘Been wanting this now, haven’t you?” He teased, sucking onto the spot right below her ear. He lowered his hand further, his palm feeling every inch of her skin as he guided his fingers to her entrance where he felt her already soaking wet.

He teased her lips by rubbing his finger up and down and barely slipping in the tip of his finger. The combination of his kisses on her neck and his teasing made her almost control. Her hips bucked at his hand, making him chuckle.

“Please, Sirius. N-Need you…”

“Hm, maybe not yet, love.” He said, pulling back his fingers and putting them into his mouth while she watched him. As much as he wanted to tease her, he himself also wanted to taste her more and so he stretched her legs wide open. Seeing her dripping for him made him growl hungrily. He kissed her inner thighs softly before dragging his tongue on her clit and slowly slipping into two of his fingers inside.

“Oh God…” She let out, holding onto his hair as an effort to get him closer. Sirius immediately got her message, moving his fingers in and out rapidly, making her clench tight. He alternated between moving his fingers inside and sticking his tongue in, both giving her the pleasure she so desired. As her climax neared, Sirius pulled out his fingers and concentrated on giving her release with his tongue.

Her hands gripped onto his hair, allowing him to moan into her and sending vibrations. He removed his boxers while keeping his mouth on her entrance and with a buck of her hips and a loud moan, she came on his tongue.

He lapped onto her juices both inside and out. He wanted to make sure he tasted every drop of her essence before he pulled away. She was breathing heavily as she watched him smirk and hover above her.

“How was it?”

“Good…good…” She breathed but Sirius was not yet finish.

He teased the head of his cock up and down her entrance, slicking her with her own juices, his precum, and his saliva. (Y/n) instinctively rose her hips to let him slide in but he held her hips to prevent her from moving.

“Tell me, love. Is this what you want?”

“Sirius, please…I want you.” She looked at him with pleading eyes, her arms around his neck. “I’m ready for you.”

He stopped teasing her for a while, his lips coming down onto hers. He kissed her lightly, in contrast to how he started earlier. He moved his lips against her in a sweet and delicate way as though she was fragile. She kissed him back lovingly before she felt him slightly push in his cock to her wet entrance. He pulled back and pressed his sweaty forehead against hers, eyes on each other. She nodded at him before he slid all the way into her tight core where she welcomed him. He bottomed out and started to move, stretching her for his thick length.

Gentle and slow was his pace as he whispered praises to her ear, reminding her how good she made him feel and how tight she was becoming. She was like a euphoric pill and his own, personal nirvana. The sounds she made as he continued to push in and out of her were angelic and flawless, though every once in a while, he would kiss her to keep her voice down so as to prevent her from waking up his brother.

“We don’t want any one to interrupt us now, do we?” He whispered, kissing her cheek.

Her climax was beginning to start once more as Sirius decided to speed up his thrusts. From slow and gentle, his pace became hard and fast. He was becoming erratic and rough since he was also starting to feel himself close. He kept his thrusts powerful, the head of his cock hitting her spot repeatedly.

“(Y/n), gonna cum! Gonna cum inside!”

“Come on, Sirius. I’m close too.”

The two moaned in chorus and with one last push, Sirius felt himself spill inside her. She came as soon as she felt the warm sensation flood her core, her juices mixing in with his. He kept himself inside her for a few minutes even as he softened, his face buried in her neck. He trailed kisses on her skin once more before he pulled out and laid back down beside her, the two panting heavily. After a few minutes of rest, they both fell asleep through the stormy night.

Marichat Day 29: The Argument

“I’m not talking about this anymore, Chat,” Marinette grumbled, scooting back in her bed and opening her laptop.

Chat Noir stopped his pacing to stare back at her. “We’ve hardly talked at all!”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with you. We’re friends so I wanted you to know, but that’s as far as it goes.”

“Who is he?”

“That’s not important.”

“Not important?! Excuse me, Princess, but contrary to your belief, the identity of whatever bastard knocked you up is actually very important to me!”

Marinette flinched. “It was a one-time thing, a mistake.” She unconsciously cupped her still flat stomach. “Look, I appreciate that you care, but I’m going to be okay, really.”

“A-are you keeping it?”

“Yes,” she replied immediately. “My job has a great maternity package and Papa and Maman have already offered to help me. They’re begging me to move back in with them, but I don’t think I could do it. I like my apartment.” She glanced around the room. “I guess I’ll need to figure out a place to make a nursery though.”

Chat Noir slumped down on the edge of the bed. “How are you so calm about this?”

“I’m only calm right now. Believe me, you’ve missed quite a few freak outs over the past couple of weeks.” She gave a little chuckle. 

“Why was it a mistake?” he asked quietly.

“What?”

“The guy…the one who did this to you, why was it a mistake?”

“Oh,” Marinette looked down at her lap. “Uh, he’s an old friend. A mutual friend had a party last month to celebrate her new job and everyone was drinking and it had been a rough week so I was drinking a bit more than usual.” She sighed. “Adrien was there and I’ve always liked him and one thing led to another and, well…” She shrugged with a sad smile.

“But you’re going to tell him.”

“I don’t think so,” she said with a shake of her head. “He’s got this crazy, important life and he’s kind of famous and…and it isn’t like we’re dating, you know?”

“That’s bullshit,” Chat Noir growled.

Marinette blinked wide eyes at him. “Excuse me?”

“You have to tell him, Marinette. That’s his baby too. He would want to know. He would…he would want to be with you,” he finished, his voice cracking.

“Chat?”

“You can’t just keep this a secret! This isn’t fair. I’ve been in love with you for years and then for it to happen like this…” A fine tremble ran up his spine. He suddenly turned, pushing her computer out of her lap and burying his face against her stomach. “I’m so sorry, Marinette. I’m so, so sorry,” he cried. “Please forgive me, please, please, please…”

Marinette’s hands fluttered above his head, unsure of what to do. Had he just confessed to loving her? “Chat? Chat! Kitty, please look at me.” 

He blinked up at her, tears spilling down his mask. “Marry me,” he begged. “Please.”

“What?! Chat, please just–”

“Damn it,” he swore, shaking his head. “I’ve made such a mess of this. Plagg, claws in.”

Good Boy, Stevie // Steve Rogers x Reader (P1)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x POC Reader, a tiny bit WinterWidow and ScarletVision
Word Count: 3.7k+
Warning: Language, fluff, Slooow burn, Sub!Steve, Dominant Reader  
Summary: Steve discovers he really enjoys you on top and in control. Pietro and Sam find out a little more about Bucky Barnes than they ever wanted to know. Wanda is a surprising supporter of *ahem* kinky things.

A/N: You really thought I was going to leave you hanging on ‘Oh Captain!’ like that? I’m not that sadistic. Okay…maybe I am but this story practically begged me to write it. Who am I to refuse?

Originally posted by luvinchris

Previously on Oh Captain: Good Boy, Stevie //Part 2

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Meet Me Inside - Part 3

Part 2 | Masterlist |  Part 4

Relationship: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You really wanted your last year to go without a hitch so you could finally get your Masters degree. But then Professor Barnes walks in to your lecture. And he makes it a whole lot harder to focus.

A/N: Sorry if it’s been too slow for you but stop me if I’m wrong, I just don’t think a professor would bone his student after the first lesson lol.

Warnings: Language.

Words: 1698

Originally posted by buckysqueenbitch

Natasha was practically bouncing in her seat when you told her.

“Look I’m not even sure if it happened”.

You’d been pretty shocked (and practically giddy) at what had happened. But the further you got from his office, the more you started to wonder if he really had been looking at you, or if you’d just imagined it. It happened so quickly.

“Didn’t you say he wouldn’t look at you afterwards? You caught him staring, the poor guy was obviously embarrassed” Natasha explained, rolling her eyes at your reluctance.

“He wasn’t exactly all sunshine and daisies before that, Nat. I’m probably overanalysing it. Like that time in Carter’s class when Rogers walked in and I thought they were flirting”

“Oh please, they totally were. I mean who wouldn’t flirt with Peggy?”

You take a bite of your sandwich as you think back to what happened in Professor Barnes’ office mere moments ago.

If he hadn’t been looking at you, where was he looking? Was he even looking elsewhere at all?

Natasha cuts through your thoughts. “When do you have him next?”

“Monday” you reply, swallowing your mouthful. She nods meaningfully before taking a sip of her coffee and changing the subject.

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A question for Sangwoo’s fangirls and fanboys.

Would you still feel the same way about Sangwoo if he looked more like a stereotypical creep and less like a Men’s Health model? Read the entire post before answering.  

[Note: I’m a Tumblr fail, so sorry in advance for not replying to comments. I can’t figure out how to.]

Let me begin by saying that I have no love whatsoever for Sangwoo, no matter what he looks like. I’m often a sucker for manhwa/manga bad boys, but I would run Sangwoo over repeatedly, if given the chance.

(Sadly, since he’s composed of pixels I’ll have to settle for throwing mental darts at his digital face…)

Another disclaimer. Killing Stalking is not a manhwa I would normally read. I was tricked into checking it out because an ad described it as a suspense/thriller, not a horror/abuse story. However, once I began reading I couldn’t stop because I wanted, so badly, to see someone (anyone!!!) obliterate Sangwoo in every possible.

(Personally, I was hoping Koogi would introduce a kickass, female detective to team up with Seungbae and STOMP SANGWOO INTO THE GROUND, but alas, I don’t think Koogi’s going to grant my wish…)

KS is one of the most disturbing works of fiction I have ever read, but as disturbing as KS is, I am equally—if not more disturbed—by the rabid ‘Sangwoo Fangirl/Fanboy’ (SF) subsection of the fandom. There’s nothing wrong with loving a well-crafted villain (let’s face it – they’re often the most intriguing characters, largely because we have no idea what they’re going to do next), but there is a difference between loving (or, loving to hate) a villain and letting that love blind you. When you are using your love for the villain to justify or excuse what that villain does, that’s a huge problem.

Hold up!

I see your raised hackles. Put your claws (and any other weapons!!!) away for a minute and hear me out. I’m not writing this post as a lecture. I’m writing it because what I’m seeing in the KS fandom is a prevalent issue that exists in all media (and the world at large).

Although we may not admit it, most of us are far more likely to excuse/justify/defend bad behaviour if an attractive person is doing it. It happens all the time. It can vary from something minor, like excusing your criminally smexy secret crush’s rudeness to, oh I don’t know, romanticizing a sadistic, fictional beefcake?

(Think Twilight. Edward Cullen. Daddy Swan was so NOT HAPPY about his daughter dating a ninety year old vampy, but can you imagine how many MORE tables he—and everyone else in Forks—would have flipped if Edward had LOOKED like a grandpa???)

We all know attractive people are not any more inherently good or bad than an 'unattractive’ person, so why are we often MORE shocked if we discover ugly motives hiding behind a pretty face? Why do we expect the intelligent and charismatic, pretty girl/boy next door to be morally superior to the socially inept slob from across the street? Moreover, why are we more inclined to FORGIVE them for their flaws, mistakes, and even crimes?

I think—social conditioning aside—that deep down we don’t want to believe we are attracted to someone bad/evil, because if we are attracted to that kind of person, then what kind of people does that make us?

This isn’t my theory, by the way. I first heard it from a Youtuber (I’ll be darned if I can remember his name. Sorry v.v), who mentioned it while analyzing Death Note. Like Sangwoo, Light gets away with a whole lot of crap (within the manga, and with fans) because of his looks and popularity.  

Now, getting back to the fandom. I have seen a disturbing number of SF bending over backwards, frantically trying to revive their deceased Sangwoo/Yoon Bum “love story”. Hate to burst your bubble, folks, but that fantasy should have died the minute Sangwoo’s bat shattered Bum’s legs.

Yet, it hasn’t.

As the story progresses and more and more of Sangwoo’s twisted tendencies come to light, I think that many SF are switching teams to join the SH, aka Sangwoo Hategirls and Hateboys. (Hategirls? Hateboys? Is that a thing? Did I just coin something?? :P). But, on the other hand, there are fans who are desperately clinging to the possibility of Sangwoo’s goodness like a buoy in a tempest. Rather than burying the corpse of their BL daydream and admitting that Sangwoo is a vile piece of EVERYTHING THAT IS WRONG WITH THE WORLD with NO POSSIBILITY OF REHABILITATION, they are becoming more and more defensive (and forgiving) by the chapter.

Like I said before, I’m not writing this post to point fingers. I’m not saying that you are a horrible human being if you are a diehard SF and a member of the SWxYB cheer squad. I’m only asking that you put down your blood-soaked pom-poms for a second and take a look at those two Sangwoos.

If tomorrow, Koogi began drawing Hottie Sangoo as Nottie Sangwoo, would you still feel the same?

P.S. If you’d like to read more about my thoughts on Sangwoo’s mental state, Yoon Bum’s escape, and my KS ending predictions, feel free to check out my previous KS post: http://princessbangarang.tumblr.com/post/163196610880/this-is-how-yoon-bum-will-escape-sangwoo-ks 

Later Night Snacks and Underwear - 3

Fandom: Marvel’s Avengers

Summary:  Y/N and Peter run into each other late one night. After, she is beyond confused about how she sees Peter. And Peter? Well he was already in love with her, but it takes advice, teasing, and another surprise encounter for them to face their feelings.

Words: 1,000+

Pairing/Characters: PeterParkerxStark!Reader, Natasha, Steve, Wanda, Bruce

Warning:  маленький ангел = my little angel (according to google translate), awkward reader, protective Nat…

Author’s Note: Yay, more Avengers, tho no Peter and Y/N interaction here. I just love the whole family Avengers thing. Here goes…..

Part 1, Part 2

Originally posted by rossmundpike


Your eight o’clock alarm woke you abruptly. Surely you’d been in the middle of a rem cycle. You rubbed your eyes sleepily and sat up reluctantly. “Okay, I’m awake FRIDAY,” you grumbled.

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Assisting Tom (one shot)

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 1318

Warnings: Unabashed, tooth-rottingly sweet fluffidy fluff and some kissing.


Originally posted by imaginealotofthings

“There’s something different about you today, Y/N.” Tom said, standing in your favorite coffee shop in London, looking down at you seated at your usual table.

“Oh is there?” you asked with a grin, making your eyes twinkle. Tom couldn’t help himself. He sat across from you and put his chin in his hand as he studied your face.

“Yes, something is indeed different, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.” he said. “Have you done something with your hair? A new shade of lipstick perhaps?”

“Now Tom, you know I don’t wear lipstick,” you replied, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth out of habit. “And my hair is the same as it has always been.” Tom shook his head and continued to stare at you, trying to figure out the puzzle  

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Imagine a wonderful AU in which Jack and Bitty get together a month after meeting.

Jack crushes on Bitty from the moment they meet. Imagine Canadian-polite Jack and Georgia-polite Bitty meeting for the first time. Bitty would be immediately falling over himself about Jack if he had been nice from the start.

Jack is aware of his feelings and instead of being a jerk, he’s awkward as hell. He helps Bitty with the checking and they do the whole being friends and hanging out at coffee shops from the start. They get along so well that they transition into a relationship without noticing it.

Literally. 

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A Difficult Circumstance - feysand fanfiction 1/?

Summary: Rhys and Feyre make a deal with Cassian during a drunken evening at Rita’s, and the next morning they are startled to find out that magic does not understand irony. Or jokes. And apparently does not care about the amount of drinks one has imbibed and it will take you seriously. AKA the body-switching fic!

Notes: I don’t know how many parts this will end up being; as many ridiculous situations as I can up with, pretty much.

AO3 : Part two : No warnings : Tagging @darkheartsdontbreaktheybruise @personpersonper @birdiethebibliophile @juliasempiternal @feyre-therabeaux @jjellybean @stellaireskies (if anyone else wants to be tagged in the future let me know)

*****

Throwing her right arm across the bed, Feyre was startled to find that instead of resting on a warm, familiar body, it met air. The edge of the bed. She didn’t want to open her eyes quite yet, and so she felt around for the sheets, trying to figure out how far the edge so she knew how far she had to go until she fell off. This was not her usual side of the bed, but she wasn’t quite surprised to find herself at odds with her habits.

She and Rhys had spent the previous evening at Rita’s, with Cassian, Mor, and Lucien. She vaguely remembered drinking. Well, that was a lie. There was drinking, a lot, and laughing, which always came from having that group gathered. There were the usual dares, Cassian threatening to tell the waitress that Mor had a crush on her if she didn’t do it herself, Mor trying to teach Feyre how to dance. It was a failure, as usual, but at least they all got a laugh, and they would leave her alone for the next few months because hey, at least she tried.

Feyre assumed that she and Rhys had fallen into bed together at the end of the night either too exhausted to figure out who normally went where, or perhaps he had flipped her over there in some sort of alcohol-induced sex game. Either way, she was fairly certain that she had slept too long and Nesta or Amren would come barging in any moment. The idea of rubbing either of them the wrong way when they had a full day of work ahead of them was enough to make Feyre groan out loud.

The voice that came from her lips, however, was decidedly not her own. It was deep, and although it was familiar, it was not supposed to be there.

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When I’m Looking Up At You

Since my post about taller Harry was getting so much attention and had people arguing not only with me I felt a little (very) guilty. So I decided to write taller Harry! (and got a little carried away) Title comes from Troye Sivan’s song Blue.


One thing Draco Malfoy was proud of was that he had always been at least slightly taller than Harry Potter. Years of insulting Potter and his friends were only made that much sweeter when he could look down on them. After the war however, this was the last thing on Draco’s mind. Potter had testified at his trial, saving his family from being sent to Azkaban. They hadn’t seen each other since then, but they’d given each other a nod before leaving the Ministry that day that said more than any words ever could.

They had a newfound respect for each other although neither one was likely to admit it. Draco thought about Potter occasionally. He’d been trying to find a job for about a year to no avail so he’d had a lot of free time to read the news. For example, the groundbreaking headline about 6 months prior about the bisexual Boy Who Lived. That was certainly an interesting revelation. Draco shook his head, trying to clear his mind as he headed toward Kinglsey’s office for a check in as it was a year since his release. He was about to enter when someone with messy black hair rushed out, colliding into him and knocking them both to the ground. Draco fell on his back with a thud and the other man landed on top of him.
“Watch where you’re going next time you-Potter?” Potter lifted his head looked down at Draco, surprised.
“Malfoy! Was in a rush, sorry,” he got up and offered his hand to Draco, pulling him to his feet.
“See you around, I guess,” he said awkwardly, giving Draco a sheepish grin before turning to leave.
Wait. Was that-no it couldn’t be. It was impossible. Unacceptable. But Draco had to make sure, nonetheless.
“Potter!” he shouted.
Potter turned abruptly and ran toward Draco. “What is it?”
Draco stared at him. Not down at him, no, he was looking straight ahead into Potter’s eyes.
“Malfoy, not that I don’t want to talk but I am in a hurry so if you could-”
“Shut it, Potter.”
Draco wasn’t going mad. Potter was now the same height as him. He gasped at the realization and took a step back, staring at Potter in horror.
“Er, is everything alright? Do you need-”
“How, how, how could this happen? How is this possible? How dare you! What are you-how did you-” Draco spluttered before ending off with a dramatic groan.
“Malfoy, are you okay?”
Potter stepped forward, placing a hand on Draco’s shoulder and giving him a concerned look. Draco was too stunned to reply. “Okay…I wish we could continue this thrilling conversation but I do really have to be going now. Maybe you can owl me once you figure it out, yeah? Unless something is wrong, I can stay-”
Draco shook his head and waved his hand dismissively, still unable to form words.
“Alright, it was good to see you.”
He squeezed Draco’s shoulder before rushing off into the crowd, leaving Draco too shocked to move until Kingsley opened the door, giving him a curious look before he finally entered.

A few months later, Draco was preparing for an interview at a new, tiny wizarding bookshop. Granger had sought him out, aware of the difficulties he’d had in trying to find a job and insisted that the owner of this shop wouldn’t discriminate and would be glad to have him. It wasn’t the most exciting career, but he’d rather be organizing bookshelves than reading every issue of the Daily Prophet which always found some way to mention the Chosen One, yet failed to mention his growth spurt. He shivered, shoving the latest issue in his pocket and walking into the shop. It was close enough to Draco’s flat, in a less populated area but by the looks of the place, would likely attract a fair amount of customers. He looked around; there were a few boxes here and there but otherwise it was a cozy little spot. As it had yet to open, there was no one in sight, although he’d agreed to meet the owner there. “Hello?” he called out.
“Sorry, we’re not quite open yet-” came the response from around a corner as Harry Potter stepped out of a room behind the counter.
Of course. Draco stepped closer to the counter and squinted. Oh no. Not again. This was just too much.
“Malfoy. What are you doing here? I’m expecting someone-”
“Potter. What are you doing? Are you standing on something?” Draco sauntered toward Potter, looking at the ground behind him to see if it was at the same level as the rest of the shop. “No? Look, I don’t know why you’re here but we aren’t set to open yet for at least another month and I’m supposed to be interviewing someone so if you could just-”
“Get out from behind the counter,” Draco barked.
Potter looked at him questioningly, unsure of what to say.
“I said come out of there. Come stand in front of me.”
Potter hurried around the counter, walking up to Draco and stood with his arms crossed.
“What?” Draco began circling him like a hawk.
“I don’t understand…I just don’t understand…how is this possible…not fair…” he murmured.
“Would you care to explain what’s going on and why you’re looking at me like I’m your prey? I need to-wait. You’re the person I’m interviewing, aren’t you?”

This pulled Draco out of his trance.
“You’re the owner?” he asked incredulously.
“Yeah. Changed my mind about becoming an Auror. Decided I’d had enough trouble for a lifetime. I know you’ve been struggling to find a job and I only have one question to ask you before you get the job.” Draco started to protest but Potter raised a hand to silence him.
“This is the same way I would treat anyone else who walked through that door. Why do you want to work here? I’m hoping you have an answer other than the fact that I’m the only person who’d hire you, and clearly by the look on your face when I came out you aren’t here to work under the Chosen One,” Draco started choking, “so why would you like this job?”
Draco took a deep breath and thought for a moment.

“Because where would we be without books? They help people and can be used for various purposes, like cooking or just an escape from your own life. Not to mention textbooks; Merlin knows you wouldn’t have made it through Potions without one.” It was definitely not the same, insulting Potter while looking up at him. Potter laughed as Draco started to glare, hoping to look more threatening.
“You’re hired. First order of business, head to the storage room and find the Tales of Beedle the Bard. I have to go make a phone call. And be careful, the door locks from the outside and I’m still trying to figure out the magic of this place. Used to be where lots of duels were held many years ago and now most spells don’t work in the building.”
Draco frowned but headed toward the room anyway. There was only one dim lightbulb and the place was so small it might’ve been a broom cupboard at one point. There were a few shelves filled with books. How was he ever going to find anything in this mess? He clutched one of the shelves, leaning forward to search the lowest tier. He couldn’t even concentrate, still thinking about the fact that Potter was now taller than him which was completely unfair when he heard the door shut behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut, dropping his head.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, “Potter!” he yelled, freezing when he heard breathing behind him. He reached for his wand and turned around quickly, backing up until he hit the shelf.
“Right here, Malfoy. Oh, this is unfortunate. It appears I’ve gotten us stuck here together,” with every word Potter inched just a bit closer, “At least now we can finally talk.”
Draco gulped as Potter looked down at him, sporting an evil grin Draco had only ever seen on a Slytherin achieving their goal.
“Talk about what, you insufferable prat?” he asked, trying to hide the shakiness of his voice. He began to wonder if he’d ever made Potter feel this way during their fights at Hogwarts.
“Between what happened at the Ministry and what happened out there, I’d like to know why you keep looking at me like a winded kitten. Because I was under the impression we’d put everything behind us, but if not…” he took a small step back, looking hurt. “It’s not that,” Draco said, straightening up in his best attempt to look taller.
“Oh,” the devilish grin reappeared, “then what?”
Draco sighed and rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath.
“You just have to ruin everything for me, don’t you Potter?” he yelled.
Now it was Potter’s turn to look like a wounded kitten.
“I don’t under-”
“One thing. You couldn’t let me have one thing. The one thing I quite literally could hold over you, and you couldn’t even let me have that,” Draco rambled.
“What are you-”

“It’s not fair! I just don’t understand. This is not how it’s supposed to be. It doesn’t even make sense. I at least deserved to have this one thing.”
“Malfoy, what-”
“YOU ARE TALLER THAN ME, POTTER! Or does that need to be spelled out for you as well?”
Potter looked down at his feet and then met Draco’s eyes again, as if he really hadn’t noticed.
“Oh. Yeah.”
This only infuriated Draco more.
“Oh? Oh? What do you mean, oh? Are you really so daft that you don’t see the problem here?”
Potter blinked expectantly.
“You are not supposed to be taller than me. How did this even happen? I am supposed to be able to look down on you like you’re my enemy. Not up like…like…” he trailed off, unwilling to finish the thought.

Potter smirked and shrugged, “Late growth spurt I guess. I thought we weren’t enemies anymore, though. Didn’t realize height had anything to do with it. Although I am curious to hear the rest of that thought,” he leaned in again, placing his hands on the shelf on either side of Draco’s head, trapping him.
“Th-this isn’t fair. Now that you know it bothers me, you’re using it to your advantage. Once we get out of here I’m going to find a way to shrink you.”
Potter stared Draco down with that wicked look.
Potter’s voice went rough, “You didn’t answer the question, Malfoy.”
“You didn’t technically ask a question, Potter,” Draco snapped. Potter removed his hands but didn’t step away, keeping his gaze locked on Draco.
“Oh, alright. Let me think. If looking down on me equates to a rivalry, what does looking up to me mean to you?” he asked smugly.
“For Merlin’s sake, Potter, when you put it that way…that’s not all it is.” “But that’s what you just said. That is generally what it boils down to, right?”
Draco rolled his eyes, “Oh yes, Potter, I hate everyone shorter than me and I’d like to shag everyone taller. You do have my logic spot on, it’s a shame we aren’t the same height because then it’s more of a fun toss up between the two.”
Potter’s smirk faded.
“Oh. I thought you were-nevermind,” he backed away.
“You thought I was what? You thought I was joking, Potter? Of course you would. Of course you wouldn’t understand that after everything else you took away one of the only things I had left to be proud of.”
Potter snorted, “Why the hell does it matter so much to you? Would you like me to chop off my feet, would that make you feel better, huh? Would that give you your pride back?”
Draco was taken aback. He hadn’t expected Potter to get so upset.
“What’s your problem?”
“You. You are my problem. I don’t understand-do you want us to continue being enemies? Is that why it’s so important for you to look down on me, like a physical representation of how much better you are than me?”

“No, I-what do you mean, I’m your problem?”
Potter was silent.
“Potter.”
“Answer my question first.”
“Fine. I guess it was easier to look down on you, to pretend that I hated you than to admit that I actually did look up to you and your idiotic bravery. And now I have to physically look up to you and I’m reminded of myself and how long I spent not being honest, and how different things are now. I guess I don’t know how to feel about it.”
Potter remained silent for a few moments, then took another step forward.
“Potter.”
Another step.
“Why did you come in after me?”
He took another step until he was standing in front of Draco, so that they were almost touching again.
“What did you mean when you said I’m your problem?”
“Unlike you, Malfoy, I don’t like to pretend when it comes to my feelings, especially when it involves other people. And when I have problems I like to handle them.”
Draco gulped, his breath coming in rapid bursts.

“But I think I may need your help with this problem. So tell me, what is it you feel?”
Draco blinked up at Potter, locked in his gaze. He licked his lips and when Potter’s eyes glanced down it was all he needed. He surged forward, pushing one hand through Potter’s mess of hair and pulling him down as he wrapped the other around his back. Potter nipped at his lip, growling before meeting Draco’s tongue with his own. It was passionate and fiery, all teeth and tongues and the need to be closer; all the years of fighting building up to this very moment. Draco wrapped both hands around Potter’s neck as he gripped Draco’s hips, pulling him close. Draco moaned into his mouth and they both pulled away, breathless.
“Oh. Is that what you feel?” Potter asked, panting.
“That too, but that’s not all. More like this.”
Draco pulled Potter in, kissing him again but much slower. It was sweet and soft and seemed to go on forever, even though in that moment it felt like the world had stopped. They finally broke apart when Potter started smiling.
“Why are you smiling?” Draco asked before breaking out into a smile himself.
“Oh nothing. I was just thinking…” he trailed off before sliding his hands down from their original position on Draco’s hips.
“I am not shagging my boss in a storage room on my first day on the job.”

“Aw, little Malfoy wants to take it slow.”
Draco shoved Potter’s hands away and scoffed.
“That’s okay. I can do slow.”
“Call me little Malfoy again and I will not be slow to hex your cock off.”
Potter raised an eyebrow, “Oh. Kinky.”
He laughed as Draco playfully punched his arm and sat down on the floor.
“Hermione will be here tomorrow so it’ll probably be awhile before we can get out. Do you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?” he asked as Draco carefully sat down beside him. Draco rolled his eyes and pushed him down, pressing himself close to Potter’s back.
“Potter, I do hope one of these shelves falls on you in your sleep,” he whispered into his neck.
“Harry.”
“Hmm?” Draco murmured sleepily.
“Harry. You just had your tongue down my throat. Call me Harry.”
“Go to sleep Harry,” he whispered, pulling Harry closer.
“Do you want to take care of that-”
“Sleep.”
“Goodnight, Draco.”
“Goodnight, Harry.”

Draco woke with a start. It hadn’t been that late the day before when he arrived for his interview and they couldn’t have been sleeping for very long, so he knew it was likely around 2 or 3 in the morning.
“Harry,” he whispered.
No response.
“Harry,” Draco tried again, lightly kissing his jaw.
Harry giggled a bit but still didn’t seem to be awake.
“Harry,” Draco elbowed Harry in the side. Harry didn’t open his eyes but groaned in response, clutching Draco’s other arm tighter to his chest.
“There’s no copy of Beedle the Bard in here, is there?”
“Uhn-uh.”
“And that door doesn’t lock from the outside does it?”
No reply.
“It’s not locked,” Draco tried.
“Nope.”

“And the story about duels taking place here.”
“Bullshit,” Harry murmured into his arm.
“And is this why you were smiling earlier?”
“Nope. Smiled cuz I got to kiss you.”
“Get up.”
“Hmm?”
“Get up!” Draco yanked his arm out from underneath Harry, finally forcing him to open his eyes.
“Wha-”
“I cannot believe you made me sleep on this dingy floor for no reason,” Draco stood, patting his clothes as though he’d walked into a cobweb. Harry rubbed his tired eyes before looking around, confused.
“If it didn’t go well I wanted a reason to have just one night with you…just lay with you…” Harry’s voice was groggy. Draco’s heart clenched a bit as he helped Harry off the ground.
“Merlin, you’re such a sap. Did it ever occur to you that my tongue down your throat was an invitation for more than that?” Harry slumped against Draco, one arm across his shoulders and looked at him through half-lidded eyes. He gave a goofy grin, “More?”
Draco rolled his eyes, “We are not discussing this now. You’re like a drunk. Come on.”
“Where we goin?” Harry asked as Draco dragged him out of the shop.
“My place.”
“Ooooh.” Harry winked.
“Don’t even think about it. You need sleep. Merlin, you may be taller now but it seems I’m still going to have to take care of you.”
“Oh you can take care of me any day, baby,” Harry purred.
“Looking forward to it,” Draco said somewhat sarcastically.
“Are you gonna shrink me now?”
“No. It doesn’t matter to me. I quite like you the way you are.”

(btw this is the first work I’ve actually posted so I’d love to hear what you think, and I apologize for any mistakes as I was up late writing this)

home

request: can you write about how you’re from the US and maybe you moved to the UK with harry and you’re feeling homesick and it leaves you in a bad mood

masterlist

I remember when Harry asked me to move to London with him. He had told me not too long before that he would have to leave LA soon to go back to London.

“Well,” I told him over dinner, “So we’ll miss the summer together, but I’ll be moving to London in the fall for grad school.”

“Have you found a flat yet?”

I shook my head, taking a sip of my drink, “Not yet. I’m thinking of flying back with you so you can help me look.” He didn’t say anything. “Is that okay?”

He looked up from his food, a garlic noodle hanging out of his mouth. “I have a present for you.” He said after wiping his mouth. He seemed nervous.

I frowned, “Okay.”

Keep reading

Coffee ☕

Summary: Where Bucky Barnes has eyes for you but you still have eyes for someone else…or do you?

 (Part II to Roses)

Author’s note: Due to popular demand, here’s the sequel to roses! And thank you guys so much for your feedback, I’ve never gotten so much, I was smiling like a fool reading all of it.

Warnings: Description of blood, wounds


“…but he wasn’t looking where he was going. And fell down the stairs” 

“What!?” you exclaim, laughing. Steele smiles, showing off every single one of his perfect teeth.

All the way down. Literally he flipped head over heels. In front of the most respected scientists in America” Steele snags a muffin from the counter, grinning as you continue to laugh.

You had been dating for a little over two months. And things were great….Kind of. 

Steele was amazing, and he treated you well. But something was lacking. The first month you had spent in shock of how hot he was but it had worn off. You two got along great, it surprised you how easily Steele could make you laugh, and he was always the perfect gentleman, but there was no….spark… for lack of a better word. Passion seemed to be present at the beginning of the relationship, but now that you think about it, it was probably only physical.  And now that you had kind of settled into a routine it almost felt like you were dating a friend. And not in a good way. But you pushed these thoughts aside, because Steele was perfect in every other way and another insecure part of yourself thought that you should at least hold onto him, because let’s be real, where are you going to find better? You had a years long dry spell before Steele and you suspect there will be another one after him. ‘And it could be worse’ you think to yourself. You look at the outline of Steele’s biceps underneath his shirt….’yes it could be much worse’

You pick up your usual cup of coffee off the counter. Natasha was stuck in a long meeting all this morning yet she still made it for you. You smile and glance around the kitchen. Frowning slightly when you catch sight of Bucky Barnes eating breakfast at one of the tables alone. He didn’t speak to you anymore. You didn’t see him around for about two weeks after you had a massive fight in the kitchen about something small, and then after that he just didn’t speak to you. Or acknowledge you. You assumed someone had talked to him about antagonizing you after that fight because Natasha had certainly had that talk with you about him. You roll your eyes, you still don’t understand why his chosen course of action was to completely ignore you, you would have been fine with completely fake politeness. You follow Steele as he starts to head out of the kitchen.

“So what happened after he fell down the stairs?”


You sigh, playing with your seat belt.

Two weeks later Steele had been sent off on a year long research mission. You had an honest talk and decided to breakup, long distance just wasn’t the best course of action for the two of you. And you could always reconnect after he came back if it was in the cards. You guess Steele felt the lack of a spark too. The breakup didn’t really hurt you, it was really smooth, and you two still occasionally texted. But it was depressing to think about having to go through more years of loneliness. 

And now on top of that you were being sent off on a mission with Bucky Barnes. It was a stealth operation, simple really, your hacking skills were needed, but apparently backup muscle was also needed. You just didn’t know why this backup muscle had to be Bucky Barnes. You sneak a peek at him, he was also strapped into the Quinjet, arms crossed, looking grumpy as always. He still refused to talk to you.

The mission was easy.

 Or it was supposed to be. However your escape route was compromised and you and Bucky ended up having to fight through enemy agents. You had never seen Bucky move so fast.

 Or get shot so many times.

So here you were, trekking through a forest, being pounded with ice cold rain. Bucky still had an arm around you. He had tucked you into his side when you were escaping, shielding you and exposing himself. Soon the form of a run down house comes into view. During the briefing on of the research techs had given you the coordinates of several nearby safe houses. No one thought you’d actually have to use one. Fear settles in your chest. ‘How did things go so wrong so fast?’

The safe house looks nicer on the inside than on the outside. Bucky collapses on the couch that’s in front of a fireplace, peeling off his gear and you immediately head to the thermostat…..which doesn’t work. ‘Typical’. You look at Bucky.

“I’ll help you with those bullets, Okay?” You say. he grunts in response, and you look around, locating some first aid supplies relatively quickly. There’s firewood so with the help of copious amounts of lighter fluid you start a fire quickly too. Bucky has several grazes, but several hits all located in the top right of his chest, some near his clavicle. You run some of the tools through the fire and then start extracting two bullets that are still lodged in his chest. The first one comes out easily, and you give it a few stitches, but when you remove the second one pulses of blood start coming out of Bucky’s chest.

‘It must have hit an artery’ you realize, blood running cold. You scramble to stop the bleeding but it’s a while before it does. When it’s all said and done you’re covered in blood, and Bucky’s lost too much blood. He leans his head against the back of the couch breathing shallowly. You apply a tight bandage, and gather some more gauze so you can keep on applying pressure manually. You hope his body’s healing capacity will help him. You won’t admit it, but you’re terrified. And freezing. You look at Bucky, his eyes are closed.

‘Whatever. I’m not trying to get hypothermia’ you think and peel off your catsuit and undershirt, laying them out in front of the fire, leaving you in your bra and some compression shorts. Your face heats for some reason when you think about Bucky seeing your lace trimmed panties. You sit on the arm of the couch and press the gauze to Bucky’s shoulder.He doesn’t open his eyes. You had sent out a signal when you has realized that you’d been compromised. You hope the jet gets here soon. Your earpiece beeps three long beeps. You sigh in relief recognizing the signal. 30 minutes. You look at Bucky. His face still looks deathly pale.

“How do you feel?” You murmur.

Light headed” He says voice low. You’re quiet for a moment.

“Thanks for having my back out there.” You finally say. “You didn’t have to, but you stuck your neck out for me.”

Bucky’s eyes open, startling you.

“I did” He replies, the roughness of his voice sends chills down you spine.

“I know we don’t usually get along..” you pause, trying to figure out how to express what you want to say “And I’m sorry about that..”

Bucky stares at your face for a moment, saying nothing, then his gaze flickers down and he makes a sound halfway between a groan and a chuckle. He sighs your name.

“You’re killing me here” His eyes are fixed on your deep pink bra overlayed with delicate lace. You don’t want to think about the fact that being this near him is giving you the worst fluttering sensation in your stomach.

“What?” you say, and then look down to where Bucky’s gaze is directed, You roll your eyes.

“I highly doubt that” you scoff looking down.

Bucky laughs.

“Don’t act like ya don’t know. Always parading around the compound like yer hot shit,” he snorts You recoil at his last words.

“It’s kind of hard to think you’re hot shit when all your life people tell you that you’re the farthest thing from it.” You snap, turning your head away. It’s quiet for a long while before Bucky clears his throat.

“Well those people must have been jealous or somethin’” he chuckles, wincing mid chuckle before he looks at your from the corner of his eye “You look good all the time Y/N” heat fills your face. ‘The blood loss must be affecting him’

“I know I have impeccable fashion sense.” You quip, smiling a little despite yourself.

“I wasn’t talking about your clothes.” He says and you turn your head to look at him. But Bucky’s already closed his eyes.


Natasha’s unrelenting stare is starting to unnerve you. You had just recounted the conversation you’d had with Bucky in the safehouse a week ago. Natasha said nothing throughout your story and she still isn’t saying anything now that its ended. You lean further back into the couch you two are currently sitting on.

“Kinda weird right?” you laugh softly, trying to break the awkward tension. Natasha really needs to speak otherwise you’re going to blurt out the fact that you haven’t been able to stop thinking about Bucky since that day. She raises a perfectly manicured finger.

“Let me ask you two questions, Y/N”

“Okay?” you say hesitantly.

“One. Did you ever ask Steele about those roses he left at your door in the mornings?” You raise your eyebrow. ‘what does this have to do with anything?’ you think.

“No, but what does that have to do with anything? Steele was standing outside my door with flowers so it had to have been him….” You trail off thinking back. You never did mention the roses that had been left outside your door to Steele. You just assumed it was him… and you didn’t want to gush too much. besides,it really couldn’t have been anyone else….’could it?’ doubts start to creep up. Natasha raises another finger.

“Two. Who makes you coffee every morning?”

“You, of course,” You laugh. Natasha shakes her head.

“Nope. You have the one and only Bucky Barnes to thank for that.”

Your face contorts in disbelief. “What? Why?”

“I think that’s a question you should ask Bucky. In fact I have a hunch you should be asking him about the roses as well.” Natasha says.

“Natasha, I’m gonna be right back.” You say standing and making a beeline to the elevator. 

Natasha watches your back disappear down the hallway before she lets a smile form on her face.


After asking FRIDAY you find Bucky in the briefing room, alone, reading a book. You stand next to him. He doesn’t look up, even though you know he must have heard your heels. After his last words in the safe house he had immediately gone back to ignoring you.

“Bucky.” you say. He keeps his eyes on the page in his book.

Bucky Barnes. Have you been making me coffee every morning?” You say, crossing your arms over your chest. You see his whole body visibly stiffen, but he still doesn’t look up.

“Did you leave flowers outside my door?” you accuse. Bucky takes a deep breath and then looks up. It almost looks like he’s in… pain?

“What does it matter anyway? Ya have your little boyfriend now.” He says and his pained expression deepens.

“We broke up.” you say. His jaw clenches and a thousand emotions flit across Bucky’s face at once. You clear your throat.

“Why were you always so mean to me?” you say in a small voice.

Bucky runs his hands through his hair.

“Because I was dumb.” he finally responds. “Because I was scared of how much I care about you.” he looks away “Because I knew you’d never want to be with me.”

A strange sensation fills your chest.

 “Well, If you had been straight up maybe…” you trail off looking away, not wanting to give away the fact that ‘maybe’ would have actually been a definite ‘yes’.

Bucky’s quiet for what seems like an eternity, and you start to turn away. He calls out your name.

“I-I- know I’ve acted like an idiot” he says to his hands “ I don’t deserve this.But please just give me one chance. Just one. I promise I’ll treat ya right. I swear” He whispers the last two words.

You debate with yourself before slowly walking over and sitting one of  the chairs next to him.

“That depends,” you say looking ahead. “You still gonna make me coffee in the morning?” You turn to look at him and find he’s already looking at you. He holds out his hand and you intertwine your fingers with his. And then Bucky Barnes smiles at you.

“Always.”


@stephie-senpai

@aweways

@jeleners143

@sebatianstanisbae

@with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli

@ladymelissastark

@etherealilt

@annie-are-u-ok

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@chamongangae (hope I didn’t miss anyone)

Little Bird (4)

Originally posted by havemanymonkeys

READ CHAPTER 1

Sam Wilson x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing

A/N: Sorry I’ve been pretty MIA lately, work has just been insane.


“Shit, fuck, shit, Steve, I think I did something stupid.” Sam announced as he burst into Steve’s room, slamming the door behind him.

Keep reading

WRONG NUMBER // Fanfic

Modern AU // Nessian

Prompt: “Wrong number” 

Here you go. :)

I am going to kill him. I am actually going to kill him. I know I’ve said it before but this time I mean it. Nesta texts as she walks up the walkway to her house. 

If your killing people should you really be telling me? I don’t want to be associated with your crime. Nesta is surprised how fast her sister replied. Usually it takes her an hour at the minimum to reply. 

Feyre, I don’t have time for your jokes. I need you to talk me down before I go over there and run him over with my car. Nesta shot back, as she unlocked her door and walking into her empty house. She had moved here a year ago and was still slowly unpacking. 

Would running him over be the best choice? It’d be pretty messy. 

Can you stop being such a sociopath? I actually need help right now. 

Nesta pauses, before continuing to text. I caught him with another girl. again. 

Who? Nesta rolls her eyes when she reads her sisters reply. She was probably trying to multitask again. 

My boyfriend, Tomas? Are you drunk? Don’t you have an exam tomorrow morning that you shouldn’t be hungover for?

I just wanted to make sure we were still talking about the same guy. Why have you let this guy cheat on you twice?

Do you know how disappointed dad would be if I broke up with him? I just need to figure out a way to let him down easy. 

Don’t let him down easy. Dump his sorry *peach emoji* Nesta furrows her brow at her sisters choice of emoji. Feyre never used emojis. 

I meant I have to let dad down easy. I’ve told you about my plan for the break up before. How exactly could you forget that? 


Cassian looks up from his phone when his friend Rhys walks through the door. “We have a case down at the east side. It was a hit and run,” Rhys says, dropping the case file on his desk. 

Cassian looks down at his phone and then back up at Rhys. “Who was it?” he asks. 

“If you read the file I just dropped on your desk you would know that it was an old lady who goes by the name, Bertha,” Rhys replies, gathering the stuff he needed for the case. 

“Hey, ladies, you coming or what?” Mor yells, walking past their desks. “We have an old lady we need to avenge.” 

Cassian rolls his eyes as he gets up to follow them. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he sees a new message from the number that’s been texting him all morning. I am having dinner with dad tomorrow. Could you come for backup? I would rather not be killed before I have a chance to make Tomas cry.

Cassian laughs earning a curious glance from Mor. “Nice phone. I see you finally took my advice and upgraded. Who’s are you texting that has you all smiley?” she asks, matching his pace and trying to look over his shoulder at his phone. 

Cassian sends a quick reply, Remind me in person. You know how stressed I’ve been with my exams I’ll probably forget. “I don’t know actually, it’s a wrong number,” he shrugs. 

“Seriously? Your not going to tell me?” Mor exclaims, “I’ll figure it out eventually. You can’t keep secrets for long.” 

Cassian chuckles as he follows them towards the squad car. 


“Hey Feyre,” Nesta says, walking into her sisters apartment. Feyre was seated at her kitchen table surrounded by open books and lecture notes. “Having fun studying?” 

“Oh yeah, I just love being up to my nose in exam review sheets,” Feyre replies, leaning back in her chair and stretching her arm. “What brings you here?” 

“I am here to remind you about dinner tonight, can you still come?” Nesta asks, walking over to Feyre’s fridge and grabs a water bottle. 

“We’re having dinner tonight?” Feyre asks. 

Nesta laughs, “Yeah, can you come? I am going to tell about Tomas.” 

“Really? What did he do this time?” Feyre asks. 

Nesta raises an eyebrow suspiciously, “Maybe you should take a break from studying.” 

Feyre nods, “Your probably right. Okay, I’ll come to dinner tonight. I just need to go change,” she says. 

Nesta sits down on the couch as Feyre disappears into her room. She emerges minutes later no longer in pajamas. “Oh, I forgot to tell you that I got a new phone,” she says, holding up her new phone. “Do you want to go ahead and get my new number?”

Nesta freezes, “Wait, you have a new number? When did you get a new phone?” 

Feyre shrugs as she grabs her jacket. “About three days? Maybe four.” 

Nesta looks down at her phone and then back up at Feyre. Who has she been texting the past day and a half? 

Started as a prompt and might turn into a series? Would you guys want that?

3

Requested by anonymous


“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you told your father, Tony, as small objects in your room seemed to be floating around you.

“Apparently you have telekinesis,” Tony replied unhelpfully.

“Well, I figured out that much,” you stated with a deadpan tone. “How do I fix it?”

“I’m good with figuring out machines, not powers,” Tony said with a thoughtful look as he circled around you. “Have you tried relaxing your muscles?”

“No,” you replied. You took a deep breath, trying to relax every muscle as you exhaled. You took a look around. Things almost settled down, but a couple smaller items were still hovering.

“Got anything else?” you asked your father hopefully.

“I could probably build a solid containment unit so you can sleep without fear of accidentally dropping a shoe on your face in your sleep or something,” was Tony’s reply.

“I meant, other tips to control my powers,” you stated, rolling your eyes slightly.

“Being completely serious, the best I have in mind is meditation and practice,” Tony stated. “Meditation is boring as hell and not my thing, but it’ll probably help you calm your muscles enough that things don’t literally start revolving around you.”

You nodded. “I can try it at least,” you told him. “And you may want to build something for me so I don’t hurt myself in my sleep, like you said.”

“Will do, sweetie,” Tony stated, rubbing your hair. “How did this even happen anyways?”

You shrugged. “No clue. I was just really mad about something stupid, and…” you let yourself get worked up again, and the items in the room began to levitate. A lamp came too close to Tony for his comfort.

“Woah, okay, meditation and practice before you hit me in the face with something,” Tony said. “I’ll have JARVIS run some scans so I can see if I can find any other magical secrets to this. Everything will be good.”

You smiled, giving your father a hug. “Thanks,” you said, noticing the stuff once again drop.

permanentguitar  asked:

i feel like i need you to tell us how shawn would be on a first date with a girl who he's really, really into. a girl who he never thought would give him the time of day and who he STILL can't believe he gets to take out.

So i think he’d be super worried about falling into the cliche trap of “this first date with the girl i’ve been crushing on forever is way too fancy, so it’s awkward and it’s like we have nothing to talk about” because, you know, he’s waited so long to take her out. he absolutely doesn’t want her thinking he’s boring. he’s a fucking rock star, right?

but, you know, he also doesn’t want to act like a pretentious rock star either. he thinks something too boisterous, something that showed off his money a little too much wouldn’t be cool either, even if he really wants to rent out the entire six flags magic mountain for a day for her. that’d be beyond lavish and definitely into creepy territory. 

so he decides to book a little roller rink instead. he’s not really that great at rollerskating, but she said once in one of their earlier texts that the skate parties she went to in middle school were her favorites. he knows she’s good at skating, bother roller and ice, because she grew up dancing and taking yoga. he hopes she won’t mind having to guide him, because his balance is basically shit. 

she laughs when they pull up to the roller rink, says, “I can’t believe you remembered!” with an excited grin splitting her lips. it makes his heart skip a beat and he’s not sure he’ll be able make his feet work to just get out of the jeep, let alone to actually figure out how to skate. but she’s out of the car before he can even reply. 

(and it’s probably a good thing, too, because he was on the verge of admitting, “I remember everything you tell me.” 

talk about creepy.)

after they’ve gotten their skates from the one guy Shawn hired to work the place open for them, she’s already gliding around him on the carpet of the locker room while he’s still struggling with lacing his first skate. she pauses after a moment, like her thoughts have finally caught up with her. she watches him stuff his foot into his second skate, then furrows her brow. 

“Did you rent this place out for just us?” 

and shit. he was kind of hoping she wouldn’t notice until he’d maybe managed to skate his way to the actual rink. his fingers almost slip on his laces before he looks up at her.

he wets his lower lip, then gives her a soft shrug as the corner of his lips tug up into a slight smile. 

says, “I hope that’s okay. I thought you might want to DJ,” because he knows she has an affinity for requesting songs wherever she goes and there’s someone playing music. 

he doesn’t tell her the second part though. he really needs to come off cool. he’s finally like, some what quasi-cool now, if only because he’s famous, and he needs to learn how to bring his new found cool-factor to his dating life. he needs her to want to see him again. 

she drops to her knees and helps him with his second skate, even more desperate to pull him onto the rink now that she knows she’s in full control of the playlist. 

so after maybe thirty minutes of keeping her small hands wrapped around his wrist and forearm so she can guide him in circles around the rink, he pulls his hand from her (despite how it pains him). he leans back against the half-wall that surrounds the rink, grips it tightly on either side of him with his elbows digging down into the brick for stability.

he hopes his tenuous grasp on balance isn’t too painfully obvious as he says, “You should do some laps without me,” because he knows he’s holding her back. he also wants to watch her skate. he’ll admit to the former but you won’t catch him telling her the latter. she’ll probably figure it out, anyway. 

so she skates to dancing queen by ABBA and with you by jessica simpson, then decides to come to a short stop in front of him when spice up your life by the spice girls starts echoing through the speakers. 

“don’t you wanna slam, shake, and shimmy with me?” 

so fucking badly

“I think I’ll probably fall on my face,” he laughs, instead. 

“That’s okay. I don’t mind taking it slow for you, grandpa.” 

she’s smirking at him as she skates forward, and he feels his mouth go dry when her fingers slip into the belt loops of his jeans and she tugs at him, just gently enough to pull his hips closer to hers, but not hard enough to make him slip away from the wall. 

she’s just looking up at him, smiling, her hips swaying almost imperceptibly to the beat of the music, and he can’t stop himself from ruining their date. he has to kiss her. 

he tightens his grip on the wall, digs the toe of his skate into the rink, and prays his balance holds up while he presses his lips to hers. 

it’s not until her fingers are tightening in his belt loops and one of her skate-clade feet slides between his so she can kiss him back that he thinks maybe he’s not so totally terrible at dating, after all. 

(or maybe he still is. but he doesn’t care as long as she’s the one he’s dating.)

Okay all of you who feel like you’re “becoming abusive” and “turning into sociopaths just like your abusers are” if you repeat any action your abusers did or do anything that they tell you “makes you as bad as they are”, I’ll try to explain what exactly sociopaths are and why it’s impossible for you to “just become one”.

Sociopaths do not have capability of empathy, nor do they feel pain, remorse, guilt, shame, or vulnerability like a regular person, all of those traits are completely blocked and unavailable, and if you were to unblock any of that, the sociopath would most likely die immediately from the backlash, so as long as they’re living they will not allow any of those emotions/traits to come anywhere near them, this is why they wont and cannot change, they would die before it would happen. They will fight against it as a person would fight for their life.

All sociopaths and psychopaths are narcissists by default, they see themselves as far more superior and god-like than any other human, and they don’t (can’t) acknowledge anyone else as a person, others are merely pawns, toys, slaves, resources to manipulate and use at their disposal. They deeply believe that others are incredibly idiotic for letting themselves be used, and find them completely disposable. Although if they find a certain person gives them a special kind of benefit or profit, they will make sure to keep that one (of course, not because they appreciate that person, but because they find it convenient, and smart of themselves to do that).

These people can start to be dangerous often even as children, for instance it’s normal for small children not to have empathy developed, and first have their narcissist phase, where they center their world and their thoughts around themselves, and only mimic humane and emphatic behaviour for the sake of approval or feeling good about themselves or getting out of trouble, afterwards they’re supposed to start acknowledging that others are people as well, and have feelings, and deeply developed inner world and established worldview. However, with narcissists, sociopaths and psychopaths, this doesn’t happen, for one reason or another, they only keep developing their narcissistic phase further and further.

Socialization and communication in this phase only exist for one reason: getting what they want from others. Be it empathy, praise, approval, material goods, rewards, resources, social standing, love, friendship, favours, money, affection, sex, pleasure, control, power. So the way they gain these things is by figuring out the people’s reactions to their words, and finding a way to manipulate others to get what they want. You see, they start studying very early how people react to their words, and what words and behaviours have what reactions. They start by provoking others constantly to see how far they can take it, to “test the boundaries” and pinpoint what sets people off and where it hurts. So the older they are, the more masterful they will get. They learn that they gain much more by attacking and demanding than by asking, then when this doesn’t work anymore, they learn that by charming a person they will have way easier time with demanding, then they figure out to how to charm most of the people, how to use what people already know, and conceptualize themselves into a perfect person anyone would want to do favours for, how to read from people’s behaviour what they find perfect, desirable, respectable and admirable, and then they act the part, and get whatever they want. If they figure out you’re the person who is willing to do most in life for their best friend, they’ll convince you they’re your best friend. If they figure out you’d do anything for your lover, they’ll convince you that they’re that lover.

They learn along the way that constantly reminding people that they are obliged to feel compassion for them, or endless admiration, will get them what they want easier, they learn that for a lot of people, merely subtly implying “you’re not a good person and i’ll judge you harshly if you don’t give me this” will get them what they want. They don’t care if what they’re saying is lie or truth, if it hurts someone or not, if it’s harmful or toxic, if it ends up damaging a lot of people, if the consequences for others will be dire, only thing what matters is getting what they want. For everything else they blame those who got hurt.

This is what you’re up against, this is a person who spent their entire life studying how people react to certain words and triggers, a person who knows how to trigger and break you just to get what they want out of you, a person who will not feel any kind of guilt or shame for pretending to be hurt by you, pretending to be suffering, pretending you’re abusing them, pretending they’re someone else, pretending they care about you, pretending you’re special to them, if it gets them what they want. The words mean nothing to them but tools to accomplish their goals, all of their words are lies, all of it. Also, this is a person who will not hesitate for a second to punish you severely, by any cruel means, if they don’t get what they want, not getting what they want for them means defeat, and they will become enraged and want to destroy or re-program anyone who wouldn’t obey them.

Narcissists, sociopaths and psychopaths will sometimes join forces and feel superior together, and pat each other’s backs and give themselves validation, to make sure guilt stays away from them permanently, and sometimes they will compete and brag to each others how well they manipulated and tricked some people, or how well they punished someone and made them feel sorry for not obeying. They will sometimes try to manipulate each other to see who’s better at it. Those are sick, nauseating practices that these types of people enjoy.

A person can exhibit narcissistic/sociopathic/psychopatic behaviour towards one person, and then act perfectly humane to another, does this mean they’re not sick and twisted? No. If they’re willing to dehumanize and reject even one human being as disposable, their humanity is lost. And if you think about it, you realize they would easily dehumanize everyone else too, should they be in position to do so, if they were only waiting to have someone who is helpless to fight back, it means the rest of the world escaped their abuse merely because they didn’t have enough systematic power over it, and wouldn’t be able to get away with it.

You as a person can numb your feeling of guilt and shame and start taking your shit out on someone and dissociate from your conscience, but it will still keep chasing you and pressuring you to own up to your behaviour, in the end you will be forced to feel guilty. For sociopaths this is not the case, their guilt will never catch up, and they will never even consider that people they’ve been hurting might actually be actual real-life humans who feel genuine pain. They don’t believe that others would feel actual pain and wouldn’t just pretend for attention or for the sake of getting whatever they want - because sociopaths only pretend for attention and getting what they want, how could they expect anyone else to do otherwise. They just think the rest of us is sooo stupid and bad at pretending and manipulating, we should learn from them. They decide it’s our own fault for losing to them in this battle of “whos gonna make others feel more sorry for you” and “who’s gonna manage to convince the others they’re right”, it’s all just a game and they don’t care what they have to do to win.

I sometimes test if suspicious people are sociopaths by mimicking their exact behaviour and seeing if they react humanely to their own manipulation, for instance, I had a sociopath pretend they’re in dire amount of pain, close to suicide, because I wouldn’t speak to them after they harassed me, so I replied by also pretending I was in dire amount of pain because of how much their harassment hurt, now if this was a legit human being, they would acknowledge there and then they might have hurt someone, they would acknowledge they did wrong and apologize, did this happen? Not at all, this sociopath instead replied by even more exaggerating their own pain, completely ignoring mine, trying to one-up me with pretending. It was still a young sociopath so maybe they learned from this experience and will figure out how to manipulate someone better next time though.

Another time I was getting completely baseless attacks from a sociopath, accusing me of things I haven’t done, trying to blame me for stuff they did, and I decided to try to get them to self-reflect, I told them to stop and think about what they’re saying, and what they’re trying to achieve here, and pointed out truthfully, some of their own controlling and abusive actions. Their response? They mimicked the exact thing back, told me to stop myself, to reflect on what I’m doing, to stop my own abusive actions. That’s how I could tell, every accusation I got was a complete and baseless lie, they were trying to break me and were using everything and anything to try to get me to feel guilty and like I’m in the wrong, so that they could dictate to what I’m supposed to do next, and since they thought the “attack” I used was smart, they decided to use it against me, again, completely refusing to self-reflect, not because they were unable to, but because they already knew exactly what they were doing.

One common feature for which you can recognize sociopaths easily is that they never, at any point, believe that your emotions are real, that your problems are real, that you are actually struggling, that you actually need compassion and for them to stop hurting and attacking you, they will insist until the ends of earth that everything you feel and you go thru is fake, a play and manipulation, and at the same time they will swear to everyone and anyone that their pain is real, their feelings are real, their struggles are meaningful and important, they will fight you and anyone else on validity of their feelings, while laughing inside and thinking everyone is dumb, except for themselves.

It’s fairly hard to recognize sociopath’s manipulation while it’s happening because it’d designed to send you into emotional state, they’re trying to shock you, to make you senseless with guilt and pain so you don’t even think about what’s happening and just focus on giving them what they want, they make it seem urgent, dire, absolutely necessary that you immediately give in! They torture you with how much you’re at fault for how awful they feel and how much pain you’ve caused them, so you can’t even think about anything but making it right. It helps to realize they’re actually laughing inside, and thinking how dumb you are for still having the feature of compassion, when, to them, it’s obvious it’s just making you easy to manipulate, they think everyone would be smarter to just pretend and never extend any empathy, because why would someone make themselves easy to manipulate like that, that’s all they see in empathy and humanity, a chance at manipulation.

So, unless this description fits how you see the world, congrats, you’re not a sociopath.

gay-street-deactivated20170925  asked:

Do you have any more tips on how to draw all hair and eyes? I find that I do okay from reference and in realism, but when it comes to stylising and drawing from imagination I get completely and utterly lost. It doesn't matter how many guidelines I do or if I always do the eyeball first and wrap the lids around it, my eyes always come out weird as fuck. It looks like an alien. I think I don't do bad with lips and my noses aren't too crappy, then I try hair and oh my SEND HELP. It's a disaster. +

+ It either looks like a shapeless blob on top of the head or if I attempt detail it becomes a bunch of lines that make 0 sense at all. Hair is my nightmare. I would really appreciate it if you had some tips, though I totally get it if you don’t have time. I usually find your tutorials useful and I love how you stylise things but still keep them looking real, you know? That’s why I decided to try and ask you. Thank you in advance if you do actually decide to take the time and reply to this. 💕🙈


Well, like I said earlier, I’m not going to make any more hair or eyes tutorials. Maybe try to figure out why you think your eyes look wrong? When you draw hair try to think about what you’re doing, if you can’t imagine the shape it’ll be shapless, if you start adding lines coincidentally don’t be surprised they’ll look like that. Drawing requires thinking. When I draw hair I need to spend a moment figuring out the hair logic :) shape and direction of the curls. I can mindlessly add some lines or actually think what I’m doing:

Practise! If you can’t draw form memory or imagination it means you don’t have enough data in your mental library that you can use to build your made up worlds. I’m not able to draw a car from imagination right now because I rarely draw cars, I don’t have enough information to make it look believable. It’ll look wonky and weird.
Also, maybe show someone your work. I know you can’t always tell what’s wrong with your drawing even if you feel something’s off. Your eye doesn’t catch the mistake yet but someone else’s might spot where the problem lies.
Now about stylisations, my stylisations are just simplifications. When you’re drawing from real life and photos simplify your objects, don’t copy, brake it to the form, lines or surfaces only. It might help idk. Good luck :)

Steel Magnolias - Actress!Reader, Avengers x Reader, Peter Parker x Reader

Genre: Fluff, attempted humour near the end

Word Count: 1316

Warning/s: Mentions of pregnancy (Is that even a warning?)

A/N: I’m a drama student and I was rehearsing this scene from Steel Magnolias for an assessment and came up with an idea to combine it with the Avengers. Enjoy 😉


“No, you’re getting rest. I think that rehearsal can wait, Y/N.” Bruce insisted.

“But the show’s next week! I need to get through the blocking and the lighting preferences and-“ You argued, trying to sit up. Bruce put a warning hand on your shoulder, giving you a stern look as he pushed you back down. 

“Too late! I’ve already approved your absence.” Tony waltzed into the lab, waving his phone screen at you. 

You weren’t giving up. “Tony, they need me! I’m one of the main characters of the whole thing!” 

“They’ll have to deal with it themselves.” He shrugged. “Besides, you’re hurt and sick, therefore unfit to attend. You’re not going and that is final. Who even rehearses at school on the weekend?” 

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