unknots

lepidosauria  asked:

victor hates yuuri's tie so much, but one time they go on a date to a fancy restaurant and yuuri wears it. victor "accidentally" spills wine on it and is like "oh noooo babe i'm so sorry... :( ur tie is ruined..." and yuuri's like "it's ok i'm sure it'll wash out--" but victor's already unknotting it, throws it over his shoulder, and pulls out a new expensive one from inside his jacket like "don't worry i got you a new one!"

LMAO smooth move

Thin Mints and Menthol (Steve Harrington x Reader)

This is now a series!

PART 2   

PART 3


Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: It’s set a year after Season 2 has finished and you’re a senior in high school who’s often getting into trouble with the law for petty crimes. And Hopper usually gets you out of trouble. Then one night the new officer Steve Harrington joins him.

Words: 1.7k (YIKES)

Warnings: Mild swearing, mild mentions of smoking, hints towards abuse. Slightly OOC Steve

A/N: Okay so this is the first time I’ve ever written anything so please go easy on me, I just love Steve and I’ve had this idea in my head for a few days so I had to write it down.


You sit on the cold step outside the gas station. Mr Pritchard stood looming over you smugly, as the Chevrolet Blazer pulls up, ‘Hawkins Police Dept.’ printed on the side. Parking itself roughly. Chief Hopper steps out of the vehicle quickly reaching into his pocket to his packet of cigarettes, he removes one and places into his mouth. He walks over to you whilst sparking up. There’s a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. The passenger door suddenly opens, startling you, it was usually just Hopper himself who dealt with you.

Steve Harrington? That’s new. You chuckle slightly as he walks to join Hopper stood before you. He’s staring at you in confusion. You scoff and hang your head. “This is the third time this month you’ve been caught shoplifting (Y/N).” Hopper says as he blows smoke out of his mouth. “I’m starting to think you’re enjoying the excitement.” He chuckles.

“I’d raise my hands in defeat if this asshole,” you say jerking your head towards Mr Pritchard “hadn’t tied my arms in front of me with fucking rope.” Hopper glares at Pritchard, the old man crosses his arms in defiance to Hopper. He huffs slightly and begins to explain to Hopper that you had been trying to run away. Bullshit. Everyone knew you didn’t run once you were caught. As Hopper and him get into an argument you lean back and glance at Steve as he’s scribbling furiously in a notepad. The khaki coloured uniform he’s wearing looks freshly starched, his name tag shines under the glare of the street-lights. His hair is pushed back and looks neat, except for the strand that’s fallen out of place. It bounces in time with his writing.

“You, er, don’t need to do that”

“Huh?” He says stopping mid-word on the page. He stares at you confusedly.

“He never presses charges against me. I usually just get a two week ban.” You tell him, grinning. A small smile tugs at his lips. “That’s what you get for shoplifting a packet of Salem's’ I guess.”

Salem’s? Refreshing. Wouldn’t have pinned you for a menthol kind of girl” You both laugh. “Well, Hop- I mean, the Chief told me I should write everything down…” He says placing the pen in between the pages. He closes the notepad, holding it in his left hand. He stands awkwardly waiting slightly too close to Hopper. You’re shocked, since when did Steve Harrington want to be a cop? It was unusual to say the least, you always figured he’d end up at an Ivy League college. Yet here he was standing before you looking slightly uncomfortable. He’d been in the grade above you, and was ten times more popular than you were. The ‘King’. That was till Nancy Wheeler broke up with him, started dating the Byers kid, and he faded into obscurity. You’d still see him in passing but he’d mainly kept to himself focusing on his studies, always in the library. You’d heard rumors he was friends with some fourteen year olds, but you didn’t know him well enough to find out if they were true or not.

“Do want me to untie you?”

“What?” You ask as you realize you hadn’t been paying attention.

“The rope. Do you want me to untie it?” He asks again. You look at his hands. His notepad, you notice, is safely stowed away in his breast pocket.

“Oh, sure. Yeah, please. That would be great.” You say stuttering over your words slightly. You internally kicked yourself. You can’t believe you’re getting nervous over Steve fucking Harrington of all people. He bends down slightly, you’re inches apart, you can feel his breath on your cold hands as he reaches for them. You lift them up slightly from your lap. He starts to try and unknot the large knot that Pritchard had tied it with. He pauses and looks up at you, smirking. He lowers his voice.

“Now, you’re not going to dash the moment it’s unravelled are you?”

“On my honour.” You whisper. You smile at him.

“Oh, were you a Girl Scout.” He asks as he starts to work on untying you again.”

“Unwillingly, but yeah I was for about five years. Prettttttttttty sure, I sold you some Thin Mints once.” You told him struggling back a laugh.

“What, really? How old are you?” He moves his hands away from yours. You grin at him.

“I’m seventeen, but my birthdays in a week. I figured you wouldn’t recognize me.” He snickers quietly and slowly begins to tackle the knot again. You watch his hands move across the rope, grazing your wrists lightly, sending shivers up your arms.

“No I’m afraid I don’t think I’ve seen you around, I know I’d remember if I had someone like you before.” You look up at lock eyes with him. The rope around your wrists falls into your lap. Steve takes both your wrists in his hands and looks and the marks left on them. He rubs the rope burn with his left thumb. His brow furrowed, he opens his mouth as if to say something.

“Alright! I won’t press any further charges, just tell her that she needs to stay off of my property. For good this time, I’m giving her a permanent ban!” You both gaze up at the two men who had been having a heated debate about your actions.

“That seems fair. You hear that (Y/N)? You’re permanently banned from this gas station.” Hopper tells you whilst Steve helps you to your feet. “Permanent means no entry, and no sneaking in with a hat and sunglasses on like you did at the convenience store down street. Steve glances down at you with an amused look etched across his face. 

“You really did that?” He says questioning you.

“I thought it was a good idea at the time. I was very mistaken.” You tell him with a huff as you fold your arms, the temperature had dropped quite drastically. He leans his head back laughing, his hair moves like it has a mind of its own.You stare at him in awe. He is annoyingly pretty. You think to yourself. Boys like him shouldn’t be so pretty.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from joining him in his laughing fit. Instead you peer over at The Chief who’s not paying attention and is instead staring at his watch. He walks up to you and gently takes you by the arm and leads you towards the vehicle.

“We need to be leaving, its 9pm and I need to pick up El- I mean, Jane from Mike’s after dropping (Y/N) at her house.” He tells Steve who nods and makes his way over to the car, he gets in and you can see he’s still beaming. “See you later Fred.” Hopper says to Mr Pritchard as he opens the door for you.

“Bye Fred!” You say as Hopper pushes you into his car. Mr Pritchard walks into the gas station ignoring your exaggerated goodbye.The door slams behind him the car shaking slightly. He puts the keys into the ignition and sets off driving in the direction of your house. The mood in the car is some what hostile. You go to make a smart remark to relieve tension, but Hopper stops you.

“Whatever you’re about to say (Y/N), save it. This is your final warning. Like I said earlier this is the third time this month that someone’s stopped you shoplifting. I’m sure you’ve done it more you just haven’t been caught. I’m worried about you kid.” He gazes at you in the rear-view mirror, you turn away so you don’t make eye contact. “Next time I pick you up, you’re going to be in handcuffs. You understand?” You nod, there’s a prick behind your eye. Tears begin to well up in your eyes.

“I’m sorry… Sir.” The air is suddenly as icy as it is outside, despite the heating sputtering it’s warm breath around the car. You zone out and begin to stare outside, watching houses as they pass by. Wondering if their teenagers were as troublesome as you were. You’re startled as a tear falls onto your cheek, you quickly go to scrub your eyes. Uncaring if you smudge the eye make-up you have on. You didn’t want to let Hopper down, he’d looked out for you each time there had been an incident. And yet you knew he was serious this time despite always telling you it was the final time he was clearing up after your messes. Somehow the presence of Steve made you embarrassed. Why do I even care? I don’t even know him. You think to yourself. And yet looking at the wing mirror and seeing him give you a reassuring smile was comforting, you return it sadly and turn to stare out the window again.

As the car drove up to your house the lump in your throat grew. It was fear. Fear of what was waiting for you at home. The lights were on meaning you were in for a rough ride. You sit forward as the car draws to a halt. Wincing as your hand touches the cool metal of the handle.

“Tell your old man to go easy on you.” Hopper says to you. Without turning to face him you open the door getting out.

“Thanks for the ride boys.” You say plastering a fake smile across your lips as you slam the door shut. The grin instantly drops from you face as you make your way up to you red front door. You can feel both Jim and Steve’s eyes watching you.

“Do you think you could get me any of those Thin Mints? I’ve got a real craving!” You hear Steve shout to you. Turning to face him, he’s beaming from ear to ear. You start laughing, you flash him the middle finger and give him a sarcastic smile as you close the door. Blocking you off from the world. You place your hands on the door and lift your eye to the peep hole to watch as Hopper’s car rolls out of sight. You sigh as you hear angry footsteps approach you. Grabbing at your arm, pulling it from the door.

“And where the fuck have you been?”


Part 2?????

The Mistake (Part 4) - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles

Title: “The One Where Stiles Plays Al Green”

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Malia Tate, Lydia Martin, Scott McCall, Allison Argent & Reader

Author’s Note: So far, I think this is my favorite chapter. I am so grateful that @fillthevoid-stilinski asked me to write this series. It has been some of the most enjoyable writing I’ve done thus far. All of my inspiration and the only reason that this story exists is because of her fake relationship series. Go read it.

Thanks: to @ellie-bee242 for helping me decide what to do with the Stiles and Lydia scene. I was really conflicted and she is just the bomb.

Song: You definitely have heard this before, and I am imploring you to listen to it. You gotta understand what Stiles was hearing that finally made him go for it.

Gif credit: @ludi-lin

Summary: The night after Scott and Allison’s wedding, Stiles finally admits that he wants more than just a fake relationship.

Prologue - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Epilogue

You and Stiles finally left the reception around four in the morning, splitting a cab and returning to your respective homes. He trudged into the post-wedding, pre-honeymoon sendoff brunch at a quarter to nine, chugging blue Gatorade and trying to stave off premature death. He smiled, however, when he saw you happily chattering with Malia over an empty chair between you and the beautiful were-coyote. He glanced around the room and didn’t see anyone standing, so he sauntered over, hoping you had been saving the seat for him. You felt strong heart palpitations when you saw Stiles, already half-dressed for work, his white sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his skinny black tie, hanging, unknotted, from his collar down his shirt-front.

Keep reading

bruises that you left (go deeper than my skin)

summary:

bucky has had his eyes on you since you arrived, but after you kicked his ass in training, he can’t seem to get his mind off of you. (based on this request)

word count: ~3.5K

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), gentledom!bucky, dirty talk, oral, bucky gets his ass kicked in training, sensual sex (??), this was fluffier than i planned

a/n: i’m not sure what the request meant by “reading the reader” but i think i got it, if not whoops, sorry anon :/ here’s some sex! (also, let’s take a moment of silence for our lord and savior, thicc bucky)

Bucky’s eye twitched as he watched you step up on the training mat next to Sam. Smoke practically blowing out of his ears, he hurried to think of a way to stop it. You were still relatively new to training, a novice in comparison to the rest of them. Bucky’d grown fond of you since your arrival almost a month ago, keeping an eye on you when you both were in the same proximity. It was just a crush, a large, festering, cluster-fuck of a crush. He could handle it.

He couldn’t, however, handle this training bullshit Natasha was putting you through. Just arriving to see you get thrown into the ring with Sam, he was practically vibrating in restraint to stop himself from ending this entire thing. He knew, somehow, Sam wasn’t going to go easy on you. The thought sent a shrivel of dread up his spine, his subconscious drudging up thoughts of you bleeding on the floor sending him into a near panic.

“No,” he declared loudly, standing to his feet, “I’ll do it.”

“Oh, this should be good,” Natasha said, Wanda rolling her eyes next to her before snickering.

“Alright, big guy. Let’s do it.” You winked at him before turning away, stretching your neck out.

Bucky twisted his torso side to side, trying to get his muscles to unknot a bit. He cracked his knuckles as you turned back around, beckoning you closer before you both began. Walking closer, you folded your arms and leaned into him as he cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to gather the right words.

“Listen, baby doll, I know you’re new to this whole thing, so I’ll take it easy on you, I promise. We’ll have to build your muscle and stamina up before a real fight, but if you want, I can teach you some moves after this, if you’d like?”

You smiled at him quizzically before your eyes widened. Snickering slightly, his eyebrows drew together in confusion as you looked toward the other girls with a smirk, “Sure, thanks. I’d really like that. Now, let’s do this.”

You stepped back, leaving him standing there before he shook himself of his thoughts, taking a fighting stance. You crouched slightly, waiting for the cue. Natasha said go, watching in amusement as you both circled each other slightly. She rang the makeshift bell on her phone, yelling for you both to start.

Every time his arm reached out to swipe at you, it was as if you just disappeared, your movements so fast. He blinked owlishly, figuring he must be off his game today. His arm swung out to land a blow, growing frustrated with your evasive moves. Quirking an eyebrow, you grabbed his forearm, his other hand reaching around to get out of your hold.

You pulled him closer to you, assessing as he stumbled. His weight landed on his right foot, leaning him toward you slightly as you used your upper body strength to swing your legs in the air, his left arm trapped against your chest. Knowing what was coming, he leaned away slightly, trying to escape the inevitable before your leg ultimately swung over his head, landing on his shoulder. Your ankles crossed, the both of you twisting slightly before you heaved, grunting as you both tumbled toward the ground.

Your shins were pressing into his bicep, preventing his right arm from moving as his left was immobile, wrapped up against your torso.

“Holy shit,” he croaked, tapping his right hand as fast as he could three times. You laughed, letting him go before strolling over to Natasha, grabbing the water from her outstretched hand and taking a sip. Bucky, still laying on the mat, brushed his hair out of his eyes before turning to you.

“What the hell was that?” He asked, grunting as he pushed himself up.

“I think,” you snickered, “that was me kicking your ass, Barnes.”

“Oh, as if. Where did you learn that?”

“Ты думал, что ты единственный солдат в городе, зима?”

He groaned slightly as he watched you smirk and saunter out of the room, trying to discreetly cover his hardening erection. Failing, he sneered as the rest of the team snickered at him, walking quickly toward the bathroom.

And just like that, everything was different.

If possible, Bucky watched you even more now, groaning at every move you made. He noticed you before, but it was different now, more primal and lust-filled. You’d walk into the communal kitchen, an oversized shirt thrown over your head leaving only your legs showing and he’d have to leave. His cock would chub up in his pants, all of the blood rushing south as he waddled as discreetly as possible while trying to adjust his cock. He quit coming out for breakfast in the mornings the time Natasha saw, the smirk she shot at him a little too all-knowing for his liking.

It was starting to get annoying, really, the way he avoided you, yet still watched from a distance. It was creepy, he felt gross doing it, but the way you smirked and swayed your hips just a bit more every time you noticed him soothed his worries a bit. You looked and acted interested, but he wasn’t about to make the first move.

At least, not yet.

Thinking about the next time he could ask you, he remembered the big shindig that was coming up soon. Bucky was dreading the halloween party, knowing Natasha and Wanda had already gotten ahold of you. He’d seen them drag you out to the store last week, barely having time to wave at him before the door slammed behind you. Knowing your costume was going to be fantastic, he decided to put more effort than usual, actually ordering a real costume this time.

When the day of the party came, he was hanging out by the bar, chatting up Dr. Banner. He’d made friends with the man quite easily, both having a common understanding of a darker side to them that neither one really understood. Bruce was talking about this movie he saw the other day when he did a double-take, looking over Bucky’s shoulder longingly. Bucky turned, seeing Natasha looking as gorgeous as ever in her cliche police uniform. Bruce made hasty and incoherent excuses as he practically melted into the floor, following her to the other side of the room quickly. He chuckled at his friend, smirking slightly before he felt more than saw your presence.

Turning his head, his jaw clenched as you finally walked in, his cock already starting to chub up just from looking at you. Your costume was out of this world, hugging your body perfectly and showing off the right amount of skin to tease anyone who even glances in your direction. Little red shorts hugging your ass perfectly, his eyes trailed from your boots to your thigh high stockings and up the mesh top, finally landing on the innocent looking Mickey Mouse ears placed atop your head.

He turned his body toward you invitingly as he heard you approach, leaning against the wall. He hoped the baggy front of his pants was enough to hide his already growing erection.

“Mickey Mouse, huh?”

“Technically, it’s Nicky Mouse. Apparently that’s the ‘sexy’ version,” you rolled your eyes.

“Sexy version?” He snorted, “It’s a cartoon mouse.”

“That’s what I said, it’s cute though.”

“Oh, it’s more than cute, sweet girl.” He smirked at you, glancing at your chest.

“Is that so?” You licked your lips, looking him up and down appreciatively, “You’re a firefighter, I assume?”

He plucked at his bright red suspenders, reaching up to tip his helmet softly at you, “You’d be right.”

Your hand came up, resting softly on his hand before trailing up his forearm, landing on his bicep to grab the firm muscles softly. The shirt did his arms definite justice, framing the huge man quite beautifully. His pants were baggy towards his legs, but you knew they would be tight in other places and sculpt his ass perfectly. Biting your lip thinking about it, you glanced up at him, finding him already looking at you with heat in his eyes.

“You want to get out of here?” You asked, smirking.

“Oh baby, I thought you’d never ask.”

He grasped your hand gently in his, fingers overlapping yours until his digits practically swallowed yours, pulling you toward the elevator. Both of you nodding at Natasha and Bruce by the exit, you took the lift to his room. The sexual tension was stifling, filling up the small box until it was practically bursting with it. Casual touches between you two fueled the flame as you made your way to his door, metal arm wrapped around your waist as his other moved to press his palm against the touch pad, opening the door quickly.

Nudging you inside, he trapped you against the wall in the foyer. Bucky leaned forward, hesitating only slightly before pressing you against the wall with his hips. The static between you both was crackling underneath your skin, charging up the air surrounding you as it prepared to light. Bucky slid his knee between your legs, grasping your hips and pulling you against his thigh. Moaning as he pressed the fabric against you, he chuckled darkly into your mouth.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He whispered against your skin.

“Fuck, whatever you want to give me.”

“I want to give you the world, baby doll. Put it on a nice little silver platter and serve it up to you, so sweet and so hot,” he moaned out.

“Please, Bucky, just do something,” you whimpered, rocking your hips nicely against his thigh.

His tongue traveled down your body, unzipping your romper before tugging it off and away. Taking a nipple in between his teeth, he tugged it lightly as the blood rushed to the surface. He watched your face screw up in pleasure before flicking it lightly, the extra sensitivity making it so much more. Jaw dropping open, you moaned lowly as your hands came up to rest in his hair, tugging the strands between your fingers. He smirked around your breast, trailing his lips further down until he was bent on his knees in front of you, face level with your core.

“Look how wet you are, sweetheart,” He moaned, pressing his nose against the fabric and nuzzling your clit softly, “Why’re you so wet?”

“You, Bucky,” you whined softly.

“Ah, darlin’, have you been playin’ with yourself and thinkin’a me?” He smiles when you nod, mouthing at the crease of your thighs, “Aren’t you just a cute little baby? Shakin’, needy, and drippin’, all for me.”

“Please, do something, please, please.”

“I will, be patient, naughty girl. Why’a been hidin’ this from me, baby?” he asked, running a finger against your folds through your thin panties, his touch barely resonating. His thumb moves upwards, pressing against your clit as you whimper. His lips come down, pressing a delicate kiss to your hard nub before his tongue swipes out against your folds, the wetness that had soaked through was welcomed into his mouth.

“Fu-uck,” he stutters as he tastes you, “this is heaven, sweet thing.”

He reached up to your hips and grasped at the sides of your underwear as you arched your back, trying to assist him as much as you could through the haze of arousal. He lifted one leg, pulling the fabric off before doing the same to the other leg. Pushing your thighs apart, he pressed you against the wall as he traced experimental licks against your folds.

Bucky’s tongue curled around your clit, sucking harshly as your hips thrust against his face. His palms slid up your thighs and pulled you impossibly closer, lips sucking your labia before his tongue dipped out to taste your wet hole. He continued the pattern, adding pressure and movements until your thighs were quivering in pleasure.

“Oh fuck, please let me cum,” you croaked, voice hoarse from the moans falling from your lips.

“Not yet, pretty baby,” he breathed, pressing one last kiss on your oversensitive clit, “I want you to cum on my cock. Wanna feel that pussy clench, darlin’. How’s that sound to ya?”

You shivered, “So good, so fucking good Buck.”

He rolled away from you, putting your feet back on the ground gently before pulling you towards his bedroom. Stumbling a few times on shaky legs, you made it there quickly as he took a condom from the night stand. Unzipping his pants and rolling them down, he kicked them off his ankles, watching you with ever growing interest as you stripped in front of him.

Taking the condom from his palm, you rolled it on at a snail’s pace, taking your time in admiring the way the latex stretched against his veins and foreskin. It was intoxicating to watch, you almost felt like you were in a trace. It was ridiculous, the steady touches and gradually building tension was like a drug to you. Looking up at him, you found his eyes already on yours.

He wasn’t rushing you, instead standing quiet and pliant for the first time that evening, lost in the touch of your hands and the barrier of protection between you both. Your hands were soft, so delicate on what he felt was the most physically vulnerable piece of him. Your eyes never left each other’s as the condom finally reached his base, making you stand on shaky legs as he laid down on the bed, back against the headboard. He watched as you tracked his movements, finally moving over to him. Swinging your leg over his body, you settled yourself on top of his thighs, watching as his cock bobbed slightly. Taking it in your fingers, you carefully hovered over him.

Your legs bent, knees on either side of his hips as you dropped yourself slowly onto his cock, one hand spreading yourself apart for better access to your dripping hole. The other hand was clasped to his pectoral muscle, squeezing, nails digging into his skin as you anchored yourself. His lips were open in a soft and silent gasp, his hands gripping your sides as his thumbs pressed delicate circles into your skin.

It was odd, how fast it switched from fast and filthy to slow and dirty, the change in mood bring a new sensual confidence to you and Bucky. It wasn’t just a hook-up anymore, you both knew that. It was more, something past the deep and primal that you both craved. It was loving and tender and so, so dirty your thighs trembled once again at the thought. Fully seated against him, hips flush against the other’s, he looked up at you. His eyes were carnally vulnerable, pupils large as they drank in your form.

Sitting up, the sheets rustled underneath him. They seemed to echo endlessly in the near-silent room as he settled himself, palm resting against the bed as his other hand caressed softly against your face, brushing your hair away from your eyes before running down your neck and settling around your waist.

“Come ‘ere, darlin’” he whispered, pulling both of you closer as you met in the middle, breaths mingling as he stared into your eyes. His hips lifted off the mattress slightly, thrusting short and soft circles into you so deliciously, the sound of damp skin and crinkled sheets intoxicating.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered back, “Please.”

His head bent slightly as you both continued to work each other into a slow and torturously delirious mess. Bucky’s mouth pressed to the base of your throat, your lips running along his hair as you both pressed as close as possible, desperate for more of each other.

“I want to come,” you mumbled, “But I don’t want this to end.”

“Who said it’s going to end? We’ll just do it again, and again, and again,” he thrust with each word, pushing you that much closer to the edge. He, too, was mumbling as neither one of you wanted to break this trace, this silence, whatever this was. It was yours and it was perfect and it was never going to stop.

“Promise,” he whispered, tipping his head up to brush his lips against yours. The skin caught on skin, dragging your bottom lip down as he moved his head back down to press against your chest. You worked your pussy back on his cock, gripping it with the muscles in a tight clench, loving the sounds of his moans as you did. When your hips were flush against his groin, you ground your pelvis into his, searching for just a bit of friction for your clit.

“Ride me, pretty girl, please,” he groaned, his hands fisting the sheets.

“Yes,” you whimpered, feeling his cock brush against the best spots inside of you, heat building in your tummy. His abs clenched against your skin as he got closer, holding himself off for your release. Your hand reached down between you both, trying to reach between your folds and play with your clit before being slapped away by his own hand. His fingers expertly moved your bud, hot breath against your chest. You body got impossibly hot before bursting, your orgasm taking you away, your vision practically whiting out. Bucky groaned against you before biting down on your skin, the clench of your orgasm so good around him his hips pressed against yours as he spilled into the condom.

You both panted as you came down, moving slightly against each other to ride it out before he started softening, his cock slipping free of your pussy. He groaned, leaning back to take the condom off and throw it in the bin. Falling to the side, you tried to catch your breath before getting up to use the bathroom.

When you returned to the bed, Bucky was already laying down, hands over his eyes. You were unsure of what to do now, if you should leave or stay. He made the decision for you as he patted the mattress softly, feeling it dip as you climbed back on next to him.

Bucky sighed, eyes on the ceiling, “I hope that wasn’t just a hook-up.”

“Did that feel like a hook-up to you?” You rolled on your side, head falling on his chest as you traced circles with finger tips in his chest hair.

“No. It felt like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”

“Same.”

You both chuckled slightly at that understatement, hands intertwining on his sternum. He turned his head slightly to look at you, smiling softly as you paid him no mind.  

“I was serious when I said I don’t want this to end,” you whispered, laying your vulnerability out in the open, something you felt you were capable of in the quiet.

“I know,” he murmured back, “I wasn’t jokin’ when I said I wanna give you the world. Something about you, darlin’. Got my head all kinds of messy over you, baby.”

You smiled shyly, ducking your head to hide your grin in the pillow. This man was something you never expected, a complete 180 on all of your plans. It was worth it, you thought, to see that face whenever you want, to kiss him, whenever you want. Peeking out at him, the cheesy grin softened into a small smile. Leaning up hesitantly, you pressed a kiss to his lips.

He pulled back first, hand coming up to cradle your jaw, “I think this is a forever kinda thing, darlin’.”


Translation:

Ты думал, что ты единственный солдат в городе, зима 

- You think you’re the only soldier in the city, Winter? 

And I Thought You Might Be Mine

*click through to read on ao3

Written by: Nai | @hiddenpolkadots
Prompt: Tol: is that my shirt?
Smol, wearing a shirt that goes down to their knees: … no
words: 2500


Bellamy is aware that living with Clarke was going to come with some challenges.

(Or, as Octavia put it, rather excitedly, “It’s going to be a total fucking shitshow, and Raven and I have a bet going on who would commit murder first.”)

But despite their friends utmost certainty that things were going to crash and burn within the first week, they’ve been happily living together for the past six months, so he made sure to tell them to suck it after they hit the two week mark, because he’s a responsible adult.

That isn’t to say that it’s a walk in the park either. He and Clarke still argue about every little thing, but that’s just how they communicate. Now they just add arguing about domestic things such as whose turn it is to do the dishes, or why hasn’t he taken out the trash yet into the mix as well. He maybe likes it a bit too much, but no one needs to know about that.

He’s also become privy to a lot more of her quirks which- he likes to think that being friends, or at least acquaintances, with Clarke for over four years meant that he knew her fairly well, but once they move in, it becomes a whole other story.

For example, he learns that despite being left handed, she brushes her hair and teeth with her right, she always has to keep a full cup of water on her bedside table at night, and she needs more pillows than necessary to sleep.

Perhaps the most interesting quirk of hers is that she’s always stealing his clothes, all the fucking time.

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In which Sherlock comes back after pretending to be dead for two years, finds John moved out of Baker Street and nearly engaged. He’d deduced two possible reactions… but not this.


Of all the outcomes Sherlock had prepared himself for, this was not one of them. There had been two scenarios in his head, two ways John’s emotions could play out. Shock was, in both scenarios, naturally the primary stage. That is logically what happens when a previously thought dead person presents themselves. It was the stages that came after the shock is where it got tricky, given that Sherlock had to take into factor that they were surrounded by the public eye, in a very crowded, very upscale restaurant. It was where the road split. Road one: Shock would be followed by disbelieve, perhaps tears, but most likely not with John. No, it was more likely disbelief would lead to laughter, the slightly bitter kind that Sherlock could picture on John’s face, the kind that would melt into relief, maybe even a slightly uncharacteristic hug. It might be a briefer display of emotion due to the public eye but at least Sherlock would know it was alright now.

The second road was not preferred but it ended the same. On this path anger followed the shock, maybe John stormed out of the restaurant, maybe delivered Sherlock a rightly deserved punch… But they were together in the end. Sherlock was forgiven in the end.

He never thought, however, that the stage of anger would be so prolonged. He never imagined that John wouldn’t eventually get along to embracing his lost best friend. Sherlock never pictured John leaving him standing alone on the curb of a dumpy fish and chip place with a bloody nose.

Ms. Hudson, on the other hand, had had exactly the reaction Sherlock had predicted when he walked into 221B. She’d screamed, cried, screamed again when he placed a gentle hand on her arm, and proceeded to alternate between the two for the next hour. Sherlock could barely focus on her however, only being able to think about how, as she wrapped him in a very tight hug, he would do anything to have experienced this reaction twice that night.

“Oh Sherlock,” Ms. Hudson patted his cheek fondly, a smile brightening her face, “I take it you’ve seen John?”

Sherlock tense, “Yes. Yes, of course.”

She laughed delightedly, squeezing his hand before bustling into the kitchen, “I’ll get the kettle on for you two, then.”

Sherlock unknotted his scarf, hanging it on the familiar coat hanger, taking note in the back of his mind the relief that filled his chest at being, well, home, “Sorry?”

Ms. Hudson looked over her shoulder, “Well, I gather he’ll be around shortly, yes?”

Sherlock froze half way through shrugging out of his coat, the thought hitting him harder than he expected. Would he?

“Yes.” Sherlock said stiffly, dropping his coat over a chair—John’s chair—with a flourish, “Yes, of course. Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

Ms. Hudson gave him another firm kiss on the cheek and a Oh Sherlock, do play some violin for me tomorrow. I can’t tell you how I’ve missed it, and left him to “get settled.”

Sherlock had prepared the tea with shaking fingers. Of course John would be around. He wouldn’t let the night end like it had would he? He’d want to see Sherlock. Definitely. John was a man of answers, and he had two years worth of questions to ask. Sherlock had poured the water into the tea pot, set out two cups (he’d looked for John’s favorite mug only to find it no longer in the cupboard), milk, and sugar. He’d put it all on a tray, set it rather too harshly onto the coffee table, fell into his chair…

And the waiting had begun.

Sherlock was very good at sitting still usually. He could go days on end without speaking, without moving. But he couldn’t seem to manage it tonight.

He paced, drummed his fingers, watched the clock. By the time he decided to change into his pajamas, it was nearly two in the morning and he had already retuned his violin and stabbed the fireplace mantle approximately 57 times. The tea was cold and he hadn’t had a drop. He hung his coat up from its place on John’s chair, fluffing the flag pillow and smoothing the velvet out.

It was two thirty and Sherlock listened to Ms. Hudson’s bedroom door close downstairs. No doubt she had been waiting up for John. She’d given up. He wouldn’t.

Sherlock kept his phone in hand. John may call rather than come over now that it was so late. He had a…fiancé now, after all. Sherlock swallowed hard at the thought, checking his phone again. Another outcome Sherlock had not expected. Of course, he felt foolish now, thinking John had—thinking John could ever feel… whatever Sherlock had felt. Whatever Sherlock feels. That it was John and him, him and John. He never dreamt that there could be any other version of either of their lives, he never thought…

Sherlock pressed his hands over his eyes.

But perhaps he should not have left for two years. For a so-called genius, he seemed to have a habit of realizing things too late when it came to John Watson. Maybe one could only be a genius in one aspect of life, one field. Sherlock considered this. If that was the case, he’d gladly trade his knowledge of chemistry, of crime, of anything, for an upstanding understanding of John. Just John. It may not be more useful in his line of work. But he would be happier. Emotionally. Sherlock blinked at the realization. He was surprised, but it felt… true.

It was approaching four in the morning when Sherlock resigned to his bed. He couldn’t stare at the empty chair across from him any longer. If he did he was worried he may throw something, or miss the mantlepiece and stab himself instead with the amount he’d been at it. He let his phone rest on his chest, fingertips to his chin.

He didn’t want to admit it, but his hopes were crumbling around him. John was not calling. John was not coming up the stairs. John had left him on the curb after hitting him once, twice, three times. He found that his chest hurt more than his cheek or nose.

Sherlock was just beginning to resign himself to a few more hours of sitting completely still until it was considered a socially acceptable hour to rise and start a day in the life of the living, when his phone buzzed against his ribs, shocking Sherlock’s eyes open.

John

The screen said John.

Sherlock had barely picked up before he was saying his name.

He was met with a few beats of silence and then, slowly, “You’re awake.”

Sherlock felt pinned against the mattress, “You don’t sound surprised.”

The response was more immediate this time, “I’m not.”

You’re awake.”

Sherlock nearly closed his eyes at the familiar scoff, “Yes, of course I’m awake.”

“I… I’m not surprised… either.” Sherlock had never struggled for words so much in his life.

Silence followed and Sherlock thought he heard John pouring himself tea, or maybe a drink.

“Jesus,” A chair scooted back over the line and John sighed as he sat now, “I’ve not a clue what to say. How’s the nose?”

Sherlock felt himself smile a little at the comment. This was the most normal he had felt in two entire years, “Not as bad as the ribs.”

John chuckled softly, the way he did when he was confused, “What? I didn’t hit you in the ribs.”

“No. You didn’t.”

Silence followed again. Sherlock heard John’s breathing stop and restart, “Sherlock-“

“Don’t worry, I’m okay-“

“No, that’s not the point, Sherlock, the point is that you let me- You let me knock you around when someone else had been doing god knows what god knows where.”

“Don’t worry, you’re much gentler than Serbian interrogators.”

He heard John set his tea down too hard, “What? I- Oh my god, I swear, if you’re joking-“

“I don’t joke.”

Another laugh, this time disbelieving. It sent another shock of relief through Sherlock, “Yes you do, Jesus, Jesus-“

“John. I’m okay-“

“Well, you were dead this morning!”

John’s breathing was harsh over the phone. Sherlock could picture him rubbing his eyes. Sherlock just listened for a moment to the familiar sound. He didn’t know how to start. Sorry was nothing, not what was needed, it wasn’t enough.

“John…” Sherlock let out a breath, “I-“

“Don’t you dare say you’re-“

“I wanted to tell you so many times-“

“God, did you now?” John was nearly fuming again, “That’s the first time you haven’t given into one of your impulses.”

Sherlock closed his eyes. Hardly, John. Hardly.

Sherlock breathed deeply through his nose, “You’re right. I should know better.”

Sherlock heard a clatter that sounded like John throwing his cup in the sink, “Yes. Yes, you should.”

“Maybe I’ll give into one right now.”

A beat of silence, “What?”

Sherlock was already halfway to the door, “I’m coming over.”

The laugh was back, nervous and relieved this time, “Sherlock it’s nearly five-“

“I’m giving into an impulse, John.”

“Right…” A chair scraped back, “Yes, okay. Alright.”

“I’ll catch a cab. Text me the address, would you?”

Sherlock thought he heard a hitch in breath, a small sniff maybe. It made his chest ache, “Yeah.”

Sherlock shrugged half way into his coat, “Okay-“

“Right, can we not say goodbye?”

Sherlock’s brows furrowed, “John?”

“’s just the last time you said…” John couldn’t seem to finish but he didn’t have to.

Sherlock understood. He understood and he knew he’d never utter the word ‘goodbye’ to John Watson again.

“See you soon, John.”

Can they hear?

I just came home from the gym and took a quick shower,

“Kian? Jc?” I shouted

“In here!” Kian shouted

I headed into the editing room where kian and Jc were with headphones looking at their rather large computer screens. I smiled and went to give kian a kiss, he was so focused… Which made it extremely attractive. He quickly kissed me and laid his eyes back on the computer screen while moving the mouse around and replaying some clips over. I could tell he was tense, so me being witty I glanced at Jc and seen he was too into editing to even notice his surroundings which meant I was in the clear. I stood up looking over kians shoulder and rested my chin on his shoulder while moving my hands up and down slowly behind his back. I got up and started to rub his shoulders, I could tell he enjoyed it by the way his eyes relaxed at each time I unknotted a knot. Sneakily I slid my hands down to his waist and gripping not too tight his bulge, I looked at him and giggled as he bit his lip. He took off His headphones and sighed in sexual frustration looking at me,

“Baby what are you doing?” He asks

“Nothing, I’m just… Helping you relax?” I say giving him puppy dog eyes while I bite my lip

I could see his eyes traveled from my eyes to my lips,

“Jcs right there… And I’m editing… You’re making it really hard to” he says

“He doesn’t seem to know what’s going on, and am I? Maybe we could…” I say signaling him

“You know I would but I have to finish up this video” he says

I get closer to him and whisper in his ear,

“Maybe you could finish me” while lightly nibbling on his ear

He groaned, “fuck..” He says under his breath

In that room we both felt heated, but Jc on the other hand… He was just editing away

“Jc!” Kian shouted

“Yeah?” He says taking off one ear set

“Uh.. I think I’ll finish editing later. I need to help y/n with something” kian says

“Yeah no prob. Just make sure to finish it” Jc says

Kian nodded then we headed upstairs, I was in front of him walking up the stairs. He slapped my ass and it made me giggle running up. He slammed the door shut and locked it,

“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you baby” he says in a husky voice which caused me to bite his lip

“Please do” I responded

As we laid down we started making out, he gripped my ass and began to spank it which I yelped because I loved when he did that

“Now get on your stomach” he demanded

I did as told and lifted my ass into position, “God this is so worth it…” He says

I could feel his tip teasing me, “just do it!” I say

“I will, but you have to be quiet, Jc downstairs and Dom is a couple rooms down” he says

I nodded, then I felt him. He trusted in me and out of me. So fast,

“Fuck baby, faster… Harder” I moaned

As he continued to thrust into me he managed to continue to slap my ass and moaned. After we both finished we laid there, hot and sweaty.

“So why out of all day did you choose today to be so sexual with me?” He asks

“I like to see you edit, it’s turns me on” I laugh

He laughs too, “you’re weird babe” he says

We throw on our clothes and head back downstairs where Jc gave us the look,

“Dude I could hear you guys through my EARPHONES” Jc laughs

Kian laughed and there came Dom rushing down the stairs,

“Kiian Kiiiiian faster!” Dom mocked

“Shut up Dom” I laughed

“Surprised that you don’t like to be called daddy” Dom jokingly said to kian

“You’ll hear a lot more” kian responds

So much for being quiet…

Move, Made.

Muse: Min Yoongi x Reader
Genre: Lots of fluff and the usual pinch of angst!
Word: 3.5k
Type: A friends with benefits AU ─In which one of you falls in love with the other and confesses without saying the three little words. + College AU

Parts: I, II & III

Originally posted by leojuseyo

+You’re in love with your fuck buddy, Yoongi’s best friend, Hoseok. And Yoongi recently made it known that he more than likes you in his bed, naked.

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Going Bare

Bucky x Reader

Summary: based on this ask from @bucky-plums-barnes

Word Count: 1.8k+

Warnings: fluff, fluff, and more fluff

Originally posted by 107th-infantry


I sighed as I slowly got ready for one of Tony’s wretched galas. I hated them more than paperwork after a mission. My hands run over the crinkles of my suit and I adjust my tie for the umpteenth time. I huff out a breath, running a hand through my hair. A frown etches its way onto my face as I move to shut the light off in the master bathroom. Y/n pops in, still in her underwear. I try to hide my frown, but nothing gets past my wife. She rests her chin on my back. Her arms wrap around my waist, and I know if I wasn’t wearing this fancy suit, I’d be able to feel her mouth press against my skin.

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NEIGHBOURS

TITLE -  Neighbours - Part 1 

WARNINGS - SMUT , orgasm denial , choking , NSFW GIFS 

WORDS -  2.5 k +

A/N -   Taw @supersoldierslover as always you are amazing . Thank you so very much for the corrections and changes . 

MASTERLIST


Bucky Fucking Barnes , your neighbour who fucks every other girl almost everyday . You’d have no  problem with peoples sex life since you have a  quite active one too, but it becomes a problem when you share a wall and can’t help but hear  “BUCKY BUCKY BUCKY  YEAH BUCKY” every other day form the mouth of a high pitched lady who is obviously faking it . Who screams like that? It boasts his ego to such an extent that he walks around completely cocksure of himself with a smirk on his face 24/7 . 

You just want to slap it off his beautiful , pretty , fuckable face . Yep . You did have a crush on him when he moved in . He was nice to people around him , he helped out old ladies and was pretty good with kids . Why is that he was so arrogant when it came to you ? Well, you dodged his advances every single time . And every single time he just got even more unbearable.

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Heaven’s Gate

  • Pairings: Min Yoongi x Reader 
  • Genre: Angst, Guardian Angel Au
  • Words: 11K
  • Description: In which Min Yoongi dies and is recruited to be a guardian angel, but he sure as hell didn’t expect to see your name on that little piece of paper telling him what mortal being he was assigned to look after.
  • Warnings: Past Death, Mentions of Suicide and Bullying

White light.

It’s the first thing Min Yoongi sees when he opens his eyes to an empty space made up of fluffy ivory clouds with silver lining and hues of baby blue, light lavender…. and pastel pink? He’d call it a room, but there were technically no walls to confine said space, just a blank nothingness that seemed to go on for an eternity.

How absolutely nauseating.  

“The fuck happened?” He murmurs to himself, only to be jolted in surprise by a particularly loud and obnoxious voice.

“Welcome to Heaven’s Gate” The voice echoes. It’s a sound that reverberates throughout the entirety of the dreamlike area; making it hard to identify which direction it came from.Yoongi’s eyes dart around, only to lazily land on the male with an annoyingly pretty face that he can’t stand to look at for longer than a few seconds.

“And you are?”

“Kim Seokjin, voted best Gatekeeper for five years straight.” He declares proudly, and Yoongi can swear he can see the air of arrogance evaporating from the guys irritatingly perfect hair.

Yoongi scoffs. “Then will you care to explain what’s going on?”

“Oh right, I was just about to get to that part.” The man reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a scroll, tied neatly with a red ribbon which he unknots and causes the long strip to cascade to the floor, which isn’t really floor-like at all, but looks more like it’s just made of solid clouds or some shit.

“Min Yoongi. 24 years old. Suicide.” The man reads.

“You’re telling me I’m dead?”

“Of course. Why else would you be here?”

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Unfaithful: This Day (Bill Skarsgård)

Part 5

She ran as fast as she could to the washroom. Bending over the stark white porcelain, she emptied the contents of her stomach into the water below, gripping the sink counter with her hand. She didn’t even think there was anything left to throw up, she had been sick so often the past week.

At first she thought it a side affect of all the stress she was dealing with, but it was happening every day. It hit randomly, while she was typing away at work, watching television at home and most dreadfully, when she was walking home from Victoria’s after their wednesday wine night. Throwing up in the streets was not something she planned on getting used to.

She wasn’t daft, she knew what could likely be warranting her sickness. It scared her more than anything. She knew that there was a high chance she was pregnant with Bill’s child, in the days leading up to their breakup they were having even more sex than usual. She couldn’t help but be frustrated, of course it had to be now that she was pregnant, not when they were happily together.

She stood slowly, not trusting her own feet and feeling a bit lightheaded, and flushed the toilet. The sick, vile feeling invaded her mouth, causing her to fill up a glass of water from the sink and wash the ickiness out. After swishing the water in her mouth, she spit it into the sink.

She looked into the mirror in front of her, both hands clasping the marble counter, before leaning forward, placing all of her weight on her palms and looking down. So many emotions flooded through her, but most importantly, she had to know.


She had scheduled the day off work on Friday, knowing that whatever the test said, she was not going to be able to work.

Victoria had no idea, neither did Tyler; she had told no one. It was like one big secret, if no one else knew about it, maybe it didn’t exist. But it was time to face the facts, and it was that exact mantra that lead her to the nearest Apotek Hjärta, a Swedish drug store, that morning whilst shopping.

She had surveyed the whole store beforehand to make sure Bill nor any of her friends or family happened to be there, she couldn’t have handled that. Luckily, it was almost empty. She began to scan the shelves, looking for the pregnancy section.

The word ‘CLEARBLUE’ on a small package caught her attention immediately. She picked it up and examined it, reading “Only test that tells you how many weeks” and “Over 90% accurate.” It seemed as good as any.

With the package in hand, she strode to the cash, preparing herself for the awkward conversation that would surely come. She could already hear the pre-congratulatory praises, well wishes, goodlucks and the expression of childish joy of knowing someone else’s secret. Yet when she reached the checkout, she felt relieved.

A gentle looking old woman greeted her with a smile that deepened the wrinkles around her lips. She had her ivory white hair pulled into a classic clipped updo, only a few wisps of her white hair hung by her ears, and she wore a cream knit button-up sweater over a purple and light grey collared blouse. Her blue eyes were filled with such kindness that she couldn’t imagine feeling any more comfortable.

She gave the older woman a genuine smile in return, feeling momentarily relieved of all worries, then placed the pregnancy test on the counter.

The lady took the package and smiled, looking up at her with a gleam in her joyous eyes.

She smiled half-heartedly in return, biting her lip to keep her emotions inside. She’s right to smile, this should be a happy occasion. I should be thrilled to possibly be pregnant with my lover’s child. Yet it was not that simple, and her weak smile showed that.

The old lady saw that her smile was not one of happiness, but that she was filled with sorrow.

“What are you thinking, Dear?” she spoke.

Even her voice sounded angelic, sweet and pure. She knew that no one else could be a better console.

She placed on hand on the counter and ran the other through her hair, eyes turning glassy.

“I think I know… in my heart. I feel so alone and I don’t… think I’m ready,” she managed, looking into the woman’s blue eyes sadly.

The lady placed her wrinkled hand on top of hers and gave it a soft, reassuring squeeze.

“There are always options, remember that. Things will turn out in whichever direction you choose,” she promised.

She wiped her eyes with her free hand, sniffing before looking back at the woman.

“I… I loved him and… we’re not together anymore,” she explained, her voice shaking, “He… he was unfaithful.”

The lady felt greatly for the young woman in front of her, she looked so melancholy and nervous to learn the news of her possible pregnancy, something she should be excited about, not dreading. Unbeknownst to the young woman, the old lady knew almost exactly how she felt.

“My husband slept with someone else a long time ago. I had just had our first boy, Maklolm. He came home one day after work and told me he had been with his secretary. Dear, I was so upset that I took our baby boy and went to my parent’s home without saying a word!” gaining a smile from the young woman, “But after a while, we spoke and I decided to give him a second chance, because in all of the years we had spent together before the incident, we loved each other more than anything.”

The young woman was still processing everything, the older lady did indeed have a similar story to hers.

“And you’re still together?” she asked softly.

The older woman gave her an affectionate smile and nodded, “For fifty-five years.”

Her story hit home with her, for all the years that she had been with Bill, he had never shown interest in anyone else, had loved her deeply and told her that she was the only woman he would want to bear his children. He had been as committed to her as she was to him.

“It’s so fresh, raw. It hurts. I… I can’t help but wonder why I wasn’t good enough,” she confessed, and it was the first time she had spoken those words out loud. While half of the struggle was the act of cheating, she kept thinking about why he would do it in the first place, which lead her to that conclusion; she wasn’t good enough for him.

The lady squeezed her hand again and looked into her eyes, “It always does at the beginning. Time will help you heal, or maybe you’ll decide that he isn’t the one for you. Either way, you are worth the world, Dear.”

She couldn’t imagine herself with anyone else, in spite of everything. No, she only saw herself sleeping with Bill, marrying Bill and growing old with Bill. There was nobody else.

“You will know what to do when you take the test, whatever the result,” the lady promised, “And if you need someone to call, just look up ‘Agatha Lindberg’ in your phonebook.”

The young woman placed her second hand over the lady’s that covered her own, giving it a small squeeze.

“Thank you for everything,” she said earnestly, looking at the lady with an abundance of gratitude.

The lady smiled again, those gleaming, kind eyes on display again, “Anytime, Dear. You’ll know what to do.”


She avoided a call from Bill, most likely to firm up their dinner plans for the night, on her way home. In no way could she handle hearing his voice leading up to what she was going to do. If she wasn’t pregnant, it would be foolish to tell him so, and if she was, she didn’t know what she planned to do. She couldn’t bear to think of Bill’s reaction; he would never be angry, he always pressed her to start a family, but he couldn’t possibly be happy with it in everything that was happening. More than that, she was scared to tell him if she didn’t chose to keep it, she would rather do it alone and keep that secret forever.

The elevator ride up to her floor seemed excruciatingly slow, it was taunting her.

When she finally made it to her apartment, she knew that there was no point in wasting time. Time wouldn’t change if she was pregnant or not, it would only make her worry about the result more. So she unknotted the ties on her jacket, slipped it off and dropped it on the stool along with her purse.

She headed to the bathroom with the test in hand.


She swore time moved slower. The tick tick of the clock became almost unbearable.

Everyone said that the result would appear within three minutes, this gave her up to three minutes of full-fledged worry.

Tick tick.

She held the test in her hand tightly, eyes bearing blinking as she stared down at the grey reader.

There was only two options, the test would read ‘Not Pregnant’ or ‘Pregnant’ and tell her how many weeks along she was. She assumed that she couldn’t be more than two weeks pregnant if she were to be.

Tick tick.

Her body was rigid.

Tick tick.

Time stopped.

Pregnant.

She screamed, loud and out of sheer terror, her hand went numb and she dropped the test unconsciously. Her eyes were wide, pupils heavily dilated. Fear coursed through through her whole body and she couldn’t stand anymore. She slipped to the cold, tiled floor and leaned against the wall, arms curled around her legs which were pulled into her chest.

She cried into her legs, tears spilling down her cheeks. She felt everything all at once, and she was completely alone.

She sat huddled in a fetal position, one that her own baby would soon take.


It was late afternoon when she decided that a walk down by the water would do her good. It would only be more destructive to stay in the apartment alone with her spinning thoughts; fresh air would be nice.

She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her black wool coat and closed her eyes, feeling the gentle breeze fanning over her exposed skin.

She felt different. She looked the same, but it was the knowledge that there was something growing inside of her, her and Bill’s child, that made her feel unreal. She placed a hand over her stomach, knowing that she wouldn’t feel anything, not a heartbeat, kick or bulging stomach, but that something was there.

She strolled to the black iron railing that overlooked the water and held onto it, leaning slightly forward as the wind blew her hair back.

Unbeknownst to her, Bill had been calling and leaving her numerous text messages. Ten voicemails filled up her lock screen, along with worried, frantic and almost angry text messages. He had no idea what she was going through, he only thought that she was flaking out on him. Maybe she was nervous or scared to talk to him, yet those thoughts filled him with hope; if she felt that way, it must mean she still cared. He hoped she wasn’t ignoring him out of pure hatred.

Her phone kept ringing and buzzing for twenty minutes. That was until, Bill decided to take matters into his own hands.


They had just returned from Stellan and Megan’s after a long night of celebrating Kolbjörn and Alexander’s birthdays, since they are only a day apart in late August. The night consisted of a fun cake for the young Skarsgård and lots of drinks for the older one.

She headed straight to their bedroom, ready to change into her slip and relax. She entered their walk-in-closet adorned with dark, rich wood and unzipped her dress, allowing the smooth fabric to slip down her body and pool at her feet. Grabbing a hanger, she picked up the fallen dress and rehung it before placing it back onto the rack. She discarded her underwear into the laundry hamper.

She had just finished putting on her white slip when Bill appeared in the doorway.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” He asked, leaning against the mahogany wood of the doorframe.

She sent him a smile, “I did. I absolutely adore little Kolbjörn. Yourself?”

She looked incredibly nonchalant whilst she bent down, one hand on the wood counter, to take off her heels. He always felt something deep inside of him whenever she mentioned his younger half-brothers.

“Yes, it was a good party,” he agreed.

She strolled across the room and stood on her toes to place her heels back in their place amongst the other countless pairs.

When she turned back around, she wondered why he was only standing in the door and not getting undressed.

“Ossian is especially fascinated by you,” he noted.

She nodded in consideration, “I suppose so, he’s a wonderful kid. Your father and Megan did well.”

She had a hunch to where he was going with this conversation, the topic of his younger family tended to always go in the same direction. He knew that she loved them, and hoped that they could have little Skarsgård’s of their own to enjoy.

“Do you ever think about it?” he wondered, causing her to look into his eyes.

“I do,” she said, voice quieter than a moment before.

He slowly advanced on her, eyes watching her closely.

“When will we try?” He asked her.

He was standing so close to her, only a sliver separated them. She placed her hands on his upper arms, running them down to his wrists where he took her hands into his. His eyes proved that he was serious this time, they should come up with an answer.

She opened her mouth, yet nothing came out. She knew that he was simply waiting for her word, he would take her when ever she told him that she wanted to try. It felt like a lot of pressure to be the one deciding when they would begin.

But she felt ready.

Meeting his gaze, she squeezed his hand, “Now.”

His pale eyes widened in disbelief, she had always told him that she was not ready.

Yet he pressed his lips against hers in a moment of passion, he was so undeniably in love. He was overjoyed that they would finally do this, have their children of their own. She continued to amaze him.

She responded with an equal amount of passion, a bubbling feeling of excitement deep in her stomach; they were doing it. She reached to undo the buttons of his black dress shirt hastily. He broke the kiss to take her hands in his and look her in the eyes.

“Are you certain?” he asked, wanting there to be no regrets between them. He would continue to wait if she told him so.

She gazed up at him with parted lips and he brushed her hair back. Her hands ceased all movements on his chest.

“Make love to me.”

With that, he pulled her flush against his body, reached to lift her into his arms, and strode back to their bedroom.

They always had a great sex life, but that night was different. He made slow, deep love to her, both of them thinking about the child that could be inside of her once he came.

It was much more than sex.


It was just past six when she decided to make her way back to her apartment.

She felt guilty about ignoring Bill, knowing that surely he must have left her a few calls and text messages. But she hoped he would get the message, she wasn’t interested in seeing him that night. If she wasn’t pregnant, that may have been different, but she was and she could not face him. She could not go through a whole dinner keeping that massive secret from him, it would eat her up.

The doors of the elevator slid open slowly.

She looked down as she unknotted the ties of her jacket, focussing on undoing the knot she had made.

It was only when she rounded the corner that she looked up.

Leaning against the wall beside the door of her apartment was Bill.

She wanted to cry.


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It Just Made Sense (Draco Malfoy x reader)

A/N: so i wrote !!

request: Draco malfoy request please! (Years after the war) reader x draco have been invited to a Hogwarts class reunion and they go as a married couple, feeling more nervous than excited to see past classmates (Reader being a former Gryffindor if you care to add) ♡♡♡Thanks♡♡♡♡

word count: 705
warnings: none

“Do we really have to go to this thing, Y/N? Why can’t we just stay in and cuddle? Or we could go out to dinner?”

“No, Draco,” You cross your arms as you pick out an outfit for tonight, giving him a look. “We have to go to this reunion. All our friends from school are gonna be there and-”

He sits down on the edge of the bed that the both of you share and sighs, “Sweetheart, everyone hated me. And it’s just gonna be weird. I mean, no one expected us to be together. You were friends with Potter! God, I was so awful to him. And my parents-”

You cut him off with your lips pressed to his. “Stop.” You place your hands on either side of his face. “That was years ago. Neither of us are the same people we were. I don’t think anyone is. Stop worrying.” You kiss him again. You pull away to see him giving you a grateful smile and a nod. “Okay, now let me fix your tie, because what the hell did you do to it?” you giggle at his necktie which is knotted practically at his navel.

He bursts out laughing, “I have no idea! You’d think I would’ve gotten better at tying a tie after doing it for so long.”

“Yeah, I would’ve,” you say, unknotting and resizing it. “but knowing you it makes a lot of sense.”

Draco shakes his head at you. “I’m somewhere between loving you and hating you.”

You finish his tie and screw with his hair a little bit. “Well, if you hate me, I guess you’ll have to find someone else to make you look presentable,” you smirk and kiss his cheek. “Now, come on. We’re gonna be late.”

The two of you apparate. You stand in front of the school and now you’re starting to feel nervous. You take Draco’s arm and then a deep breath.

The first person who greets you is Neville Longbottom. He surely aged like fine wine. Wow, dorky little Neville really grew up. You give him a smile and a polite nod; he does the same back, only his face drops slightly when he notices who you’re with.

You keep walking. Your husband gives you a look. “I told you we should’ve stayed home,” he frowns.

“It’s fine, love.” You squeeze his arm a bit tighter. You pass a small door and you feel a smile creep onto your face. “Remember this?”

He follows your gaze to the door. “Oh my- yes! How could I forget?” It was the closet that the two of you would sneak off to from time to time. “Lotta good memories in there.”

“Y/N?” a familiar voice calls. “Y/N, is that you?”

You turn around to the source of the voice. “Oh my Godric, Harry Potter!” You chirp as he approaches you. Draco tenses up at your side and you give his arm another reassuring squeeze. “Wow, I haven’t seen you in ages! How have you been?”

“Good,” he smiles. “how about you? Did- are you two married, now?”

You bite your lip, looking to your husband. He can’t help but grin at you. “Yeah,” Draco replies, a bit sheepish.

“Oh, thank God! We were all hoping you would,” Harry says, sounding completely genuine, which slightly confuses the two of you.

You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” He snickers lightheartedly. “You two kind of bring out the best in each other. You always seemed so happy together. I dunno. It just made sense,” he shrugs. “M'glad to see you guys here. No hard feelings, Malfoy.”

The two men shake hands and you can’t help but feel relieved. Harry leaves to go back to his own wife.

You lean over to the blond on your arm. “Feeling any better?”

He looks down at you, beaming. “Yeah. I was thinking though, before we go in for dinner, or whatever,” he’s got this mischievous look on his face. “maybe, we could stop by that closet for old time’s sake.”

“You practically read my mind,” you smirk as the two of you begin rushing back in the direction of the closet.

So I wrote a thing

I totally don’t know what to title this but uh maybe give this a read?? I’ve never written newsies stuff before and nobody proofread it so don’t judge too harshly please!
—————————————-

The first time Davey has an attack in front of Jack he runs to hide it. Makes up a stuttered excuse about going to the bathroom and avoids Jacks usual friendly pats on the back just so he won’t notice he’s shaking. They were with Crutchie and Spot and Racetrack in a place that was too crowded, too loud, too much. David had only met Jack a few days earlier, considering he’d just transferred, and he desperately didn’t want the reputation of the ‘panicky scared freak’ that he’d had at his old school.

So when in the middle of a conversation he felt the familiar drumming of his heart and lump rising in his throat David gently pushed Jacks arm off of him. This earned a confused look from the table and a concerned “You okay Dave?” from Jack.

Dave. The lump in Davids throat grew at least two sizes larger and he stumbled out of the seat, glad that it was probably too dark to see the blush taking over his face. “B-bathroom” Silently cursing his stutter he rushed off before anyone could stop him. When the loud chatter of conversation seemed to bleed through the walls of the abandoned restroom it was all David could do to keep from sliding down the wall and crying.

“I 2 3 4 5” Slowly counting and going through his routine breathing exercises David felt his pulse slow and the lump in his throat unknot itself. Taking one last deep breath he walked back out to the group and made up some lame excuse about getting caught up when his mom called him. This led to the boys all teasing him about how ‘sweet’ he was, brushing off his weird behavior as just being David.

————————————–

The second time he has an attack around Jack it’s during lunch. It was Davids second week at their school, and most of the boys had learned that David was not touchy. Although he was affectionate he showed it through exasperated sighs and sheepish smiles, because touch just wasn’t his thing (giving or receiving).

Jack was the one exception. The way he’d casually place an arm around Daveys shoulders and how he’d always greet him with a hug all made Dave feel safe. Jack was always patient, at first he’d constantly asked permission but within just a few days he and Davey had learned to communicate almost telepathically. And the boys all recognized this and respected it. Davey didn’t like being touched and if you did something he wasn’t comfortable with then you had to deal with a pissed off Jack Kelly.

So when Skittery’s (slightly annoying) cousin Franky sat a little too close to David during lunch it set red flags off in his mind. Choking out laughs and keeping his gaze fixed on Jack and Racetrack who were on his other side David tried to pretend he was fine. Tried to pretend that just the body heat of Franky wasn’t making his hands shake and his heart hammer.

“Ugh Collins is such a dick Davey!” Groaned Jack overdramatically as he chomped down on his pizza. “I mean who assigns a packet over the weekend?!” Scrunching his nose as his friend talked with his mouth full David gave Jack a stern look, smiling when Jack swallowed his food before speaking again. “Over freaking Romeo and Juliet! The most overrated book of all time!”

Across the table Romeo let out an offended scoff, which made them all burst into giggles. David had almost forgotten about The over enthusiastic kid sitting much too close to him until Franky casually draped an arm around Davids shoulders as he was laughing. Nobody else seemed to have noticed until Davids laugh suddenly cut off and he sat rigid.

Racetrack was the first to notice what had made David suddenly so uncomfortable and a fierce glare was sent to Franky. A few others (Romeo, Skittery, and Blink) also sent dirty looks to Franky but he didn’t seem to get the message.

Then Jack noticed, and right underneath the surface he was livid. “Hey Franky” he calmly greeted in a saccharine sweet voice. The mentioned boy leaned over David to hear what Jack had to say, which only made it worse.
Squeezing his eyes shut and hunching his shoulders closer to him David tried to slow his breathing. “How about you let go of Davey here okay Franky?” There was a sickly sweet venom to Jacks voice as he smiled at Franky.

Leaning back into his seat Franky laughed, “Aw, he yours Jack?” The comment itself made Jack nearly boil over but what happened next made the entire table mad.

He squeezed David and pulled him into his side, ruffling his hair. Shooting out of his seat David dashed towards an abandoned hallway, his legs shaking so bad he nearly couldn’t stand.

“He don’t belong to nobody you dick” A Seething Jack shoved Franky’s chair back before running after Dave.

'Not today not here’ David thought frantically. Everything around him faded into a blur as he gasped like a fish out of water, too panicked to even think of his breathing exercises. Slipping down to the floor he tried desperately to think of anything, resorting to tears when it didn’t work.

“Shit Dave”

The discord inside Davids head calmed the tiniest bit as he recognized Jacks voice. But he was acutely aware of the fact that Jack was panicking a little bit too.

“Hey hey just breath okay? Count with me bud”

A barely managed nod enough for Jack and he was surprised when David grabbed one of his hands, squeezing tight. Wasn’t affection the reason for Davids current panic anyways?

“1 2 3”

Squeezing Davids hand Jack sat down across from him, letting out a relieved sigh when his counts were finally repeated.

“1-1 2 3”

They continued counting until Jack felt Davids hands stop shaking and his stutter all but vanished. “I’m sorry Davey, I knew Franky was sitting too close but I figured it wouldn’t get too bad.” The two sat with their back against the lockers, Jacks arm draped across Davids shoulders and David leaning into his side for support.

“Its fine, I get these all the time” Jacks breathing hitched and David winced. 'He thinks you’re a freak, a wimp. He’s gonna leave you like everyone else’

But Jack didn’t leave, he squeezed David just a little bit closer to his side. “Why didn’t you tell me Dave? Is that why you left at dinner the other night?”

And so they spent lunch and their free period discussing Davids anxiety and how Jack could help.

—————————————-

The third time David has an attack around Jack, Jack does everything he can to prevent it.

Several of their friends were in the band and so he’d joined Jack and Crutchie for a football game to see their friends play. David had yet to attend any games because a football game was just about the worst place for somebody with sensory overload issues and a pretty severe anxiety. But Jack promised he’d be with him all night, and so David allowed his best friends to drag him to the game.

“Popcorn Dave?” Crutchie asked, holding it out towards his friend who shook his head. Currently the three sat towards the top of the bleachers because it was less crowded and Jack assured David 'you can see better up here anyways’. Jack and Crutchie sat on either side of him, David leaning into Jack who had an arm wrapped protectively around his shoulders. After a particularly bad call yelling and shouts rippled throughout the audience and David nuzzled into Jacks scarf.

“It’s too loud Jacky” Wincing at the quiet tone of the curly haired boy who was hiding in his scarf Jack nodded.

Pushing Davids hair off of his forehead Jack placed a light affectionate kiss on the exposed patch of skin, which only made David burrow into his scarf more in an attempt to hide his intense blush. “How about I go get you a hat or some earmuffs?” After a second of hesitation David nodded because Jack wouldn’t take longer than five minutes and Crutchie himself had an anxiety problem and knew what to do if an attack happened. “I’ll be right back okay?” Gently Jack shifted David over towards Crutchie, who smiled brightly and held Davids hand to assure him that somebody was still with him.

“Thanks Jack”

Watching Jack walk down the stairs and away from him made Davids heart panic. He knew it wasn’t healthy, this unsafe feeling he got whenever Jack wasn’t around. Pushing it down he instead leaned into Crutchie who jumped a little in surprise because David normally wasn’t comfortable with much more than occasional hand holding.
A moment later he smiled and melted into the affectionate gesture, holding Davids hand just a bit tighter.

“Dave do you even like football?” Sheepishly David shook his head and Crutchie laughed. “Me neither, but Jack sure does have a way of convincing people to do things. Wanna watch Netflix on my phone instead?” With a nod David snuggled even further into Crutchies side.

That’s how Jack found them 10 minutes later when he returned with nachos and a cute red and yellow beanie for David. When he saw his best friend since kindergarten and his new best friend cuddled up on the bleachers and giggling hysterically at something on a phone screen he couldn’t stop the affectionate smile on his face. God he had already known he loved Crutchie, but now Dave comes along with his crystal clear blue eyes and his curly hair and sarcastic comments and random facts. Jack should feel guilty shouldn’t he? After all somebody had once told him it was impossible to actually love 2 people at the same time.

Then again, when did Jack Kelly ever listen to what anybody else said?

—————————————-
The fourth time, Jack’s the one who causes it.

He really hadn’t meant to, honest. What kind of dick would intentionally cause their friend/crush to have an anxiety attack?

A few weeks ago Jack had confessed to Crutchie, babbling about how he was in love with his best friend for what seemed like hours until Crutchie just laughed and pressed his lips against his. Jack thought that once he had Crutchie his love for Davey would go away. Not that he wanted it to but it made him feel guilty.

Little did he know Crutchie felt the same way.

When he’d first heard they were together Davids heart sank. The two people he had slowly fallen in love with were in love with each other. There would probably be no more safe touches, no more protective arms placed around shoulders. No mumbled Daves, and no bright Daveys. Jack and Crutchie had each other…so why would they need him?

And so he drifted. It started with little things like denying requests to hang out, or 'forgetting’ to respond to calls and messages. (Both of them knew Davey didn’t just forget things) And then it turned into avoiding them at halls, sitting next to Skittery who sat on the other side of the table from his usual spot. The last straw was when David completely walked past their table and took a seat on the ground, leaned against the wall.

“Okay that’s it. I gotta see what’s up with him.” Standing up from his seat Jack made his way over to David.

“Jack Kelly do not confront Dave- I can’t believe you!” Skillfully avoiding students Crutchie bounded over to Jack (or at least as close to bounding as one could get when they had to use a crutch) in an attempt to stop him. “Jack you’re going to overwhelm him! Just wait and we can ask him to come over after school or something and ask then!”

Turning to face Crutchie Jack sighed. “But he won’t Crutch. He’s avoiding us and I have to know why” Continuing his speedy approach towards Dave he stopped only when he was almost directly in front of Dave.

Red flag.

Despite the fact that he knew Jack would never actually hurt him David recognized the fact that he was now trapped against the wall. And that was no good. No good no good no no no no no. Swallowing his strawberry David kept his gaze fixed on Jacks shoes. “Y-yes?”

In a tone that came off much harsher than intended Jack asked him, “Why are you avoiding Crutch and I?”

Shaking hands.

Gripping his hands together Davids shoulders tensed up and he scrambled for an answer. How do you tell your best friend that you like both him and his boyfriend? “I-Its nothing”

“Oh so you just decided to be a dick and avoid us because of 'nothing’?” The moment the words came out Jack regretted them. Everybody had problems, and Jacks was not thinking before he spoke. “Shit I’m sorry I didn’t mean that Davey i-i just” kneeling down to Davids level he reached an arm out to pay him and flinched when David shied away, shaking violently.

“Oh now you’ve gone and done it Jack Kelly” Crutchie whispered harshly. Shooting a glare at his boyfriend he plopped onto the floor, fixing his gaze on David. “Hey hey can you count for me Davey? Just repeat after me, 12345”

Breathing shallowly David tried to copy, stutter and getting stuck and growing more and more frustrated until tears shone in his eyes.

“Dave”

He hated to admit it but god Davey had missed the sound of his nickname rolling off Jacks tongue. Missed it so much that just hearing it calmed him down. Missed it so much that he grabbed onto both Jack and Crutchie hands tightly.

Neither said anything but a glance was shared between them that seemed to convey everything they’d wanted to tell each other.

They both loved Davey, and each other. It was messy and different but it was what had happened.

A hesitant but protective arm was wrapped around Daveys shoulders and he nearly cried again, gripping Crutchies hand even tighter when he started to try and move. “I thought you didn’t need me anymore.”

Jack threw Davey an incredulous look and softly kissed his forehead. “We’ll always need you you goof.” Burrowing into his sweater David thought he would combust when Crutchie scooted next to him and placed another kiss on his forehead.

“B-but you guys have each other and I don’t wanna get in the way of your relationship because you guys deserve to be happy and I don’t wanna be an awkward third wheel so-” His rambles were cut off by Jacks lips on his. David 'walking mouth’ Jacobs was speechless as he looked between Crutchie and Jack in panic.

'Jack just kissed me??! In front of his boyfriend??’ When Crutchie leaned over to repeat Jacks actions David was even more confused. “I-I think I missed something here?”
His voice rose at least 2 octaves as he continued to panic.

“Well you see, I think I like you Davey.” The casual way Jack said it made David snort despite his panic.

“But, but Jack you have a boyfriend?”

“Yes I like him too” As if to prove the point Jack kissed Crutchie. For a minute or so David just opened and closed his mouth without making any actual noise. Crutchie had to bite back a laugh, figuring David would be a little offended if he laughed.

After the minute of David gaping like a fish Crutchie spoke up, “I like you too y'know Dave, and Jack. And we have a sneaking suspicion you like us both too.” Both older boys took the blush that crept up Davids neck as a yes. “So we were wondering if you wanted to be a relationship with us?”

At the renewed look of panic on Davids face Jack scrambled to calm him down. “It’s gonna be messy and weird and if you don’t want to then that’s fine. But we really do both like you Dave.” Squeezing his anxious friends shoulders Jack chewed on his lip as he waited for an answer.

“I-I’d like that, I really would.” Smiling shyly at his friends, boyfriends now he supposed, David nodded. “Yeah I think I’ll like that.”

No More;

Originally posted by kngniel

Summary: Y/N starts to feel insecure about herself and Daniel is there is raise her up.

Disclaimer: All the things that are mentioned in this are words of fiction aka it’s not real. I’ve literally just made this up and as always credits to @kngniel for the gif

Member: Daniel from Wannaone x fem reader 

Rating: Smut/Fluff

Words: 1767

Keep reading

Thief (Harry Hook x reader) (Part 1)

HeroesOfOlympus: Heyyy y’all! This idea came to me when I was rambling about how anything can become a fanfic and I came across a fence. And I just thought about a character being a thief and all. You’ll get what I mean in the description. {@rikapika14 Thanks for encouraging me to write this!!}

Description: Harry had robbed your ‘house’ before, when you were younger. A few years later, you join Uma’s crew and remember Harry. You become friends and you start to steal from him from time to time. 

(Part 1) You find Harry stealing from your home and help him escape from your Father. Also, some bonding time with your dad pirate. [You can skip the last part, it’s just your ‘Father’ and you.]

Reader Gender: Female

Reader Villain Parent: Jack Sparrow 

Characters/Ships: Harry Hook x reader, Jack Sparrow

Rating: PG/PG13

Warnings: This is just some background story before I start the whole thing. You can skip this but the whole story will make more sense if you read about how the reader helped Harry. What else? Uh… Reader slightly enjoys pain and Harry kind of tastes some blood? Basically, the beginnings of how Harry and reader became ‘crazy’.


5 years ago

The silver moon in the sky was the only thing that provided light for the citizens of the Isle of the Lost. On the Isle, nobody turned on their flickering yellow lights at night, in fear of attracting the devilish spawns of the villains, or even worse, the villains themselves.

Auradon had the comfort of keeping their lights on as long as they wanted, and as if that wasn’t enough privilege for them, they had been fortunate enough to have stars casting over their island. 

Peering through the shattered glass that acted as a window, you scoffed at the sight of Auradon and felt rage that definitely shouldn’t be felt by a twelve year old. The red, hot, boiling anger filled you to the brim and before you knew it, you had smashed your fist through the slightly broken window.

Crimson blood trickled down your knuckles, dripping over the grooves of your fists and splattering onto the creaky floorboards you were currently standing on. Relishing in the pain, you grabbed the edge of the large shard of glass that was protruding out of your hand, tugging it forcefully and sighing as you felt a sharp pain shoot up your arm the moment the glass left your hand.

Suddenly, your door was flung open and the silhouette of a male stood in your doorway. The male didn’t seem to have seen you as he approached the window, a makeshift bag that was created out of a large piece of cloth secured safely on his back.

As he made his way towards the shattered glass, he unknowingly came into the light. Moonlight soon reflected onto his face, exposing his true identity and a hint of what he was carrying in the bag. A shimmer of gold peeked out from the cloth and you immediately recognised it as one of your Father’s last stolen gold chalices.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Lily finding out she's preggers. Pls.

There are approximately ten thousand pregnancy charms in the world and Lily knows her fair share of them. She hasn’t been to a Muggle doctor since she was thirteen and broke her arm on summer holiday.

She’s three days deep in some Dark Arts tome doing research for the Order when she realises she’s a week and a half overdue for her period after reading about dodgy uses for menstrual blood. And instead of reaching for her wand, she’d reached for the phone, which only works intermittently.

And here she is at the doctor’s clinic.

“Miss Evans! My, I haven’t seen you since you were a wee thing.”

Doctor Kerr is a warm, familiar presence, and something at the base of Lily’s neck unknots as she follows the woman to her office. “Oh - boarding school, you know how it is. And it’s Potter now, actually. I moved away after we got married.”

It’s the simplest explanation, but something about it makes her heart hurt. Another secret pulling her away from the world she was born into. She’d been so eager to leave it as a child, and while she wouldn’t give up on the Wizarding World for love or money - god, she wishes her biggest problem was a skipped period.

Doctor Kerr congratulates her on her marriage, and they chat briefly about the advances in home-pregnancy tests before she collects a urine sample and sends Lily on her way with a bundle of pamphlets and the information that her results should be ready in a week or two.

A week or two. Lily considers calling her mother to complain, but she prefers to draw as little attention to her parents as possible these days. There’s Petunia, but - no, there really isn’t Petunia. Not only because Lily isn’t sadistic enough to draw attention to her instead, but because any sisterly overtures had gone ignored since the fiasco with that Vernon fellow.

A nightmare of a man if Lily ever met one, and she’s had her fair share of nightmares these days. She sighs, rubbing her forehead with one hand and pulling out her wand with the other, circling into a nearby alley to Apparate home.

The first thing that hits her when she steps over the threshold is the smell. Roast chicken and gravy infuse the air alongside a heavenly warmth, and any remaining tension in her spine slips away as she shrugs her coat off. James skids into the kitchen entrance in his socks and an apron with a body-builder’s chest on it, wielding a pair of tongs and a grin wide enough to swallow the sun.

“Potter!” he exclaims, his delight in the fact that she shares his surname never-ending. Lily might roll her eyes, but she’s smiling already, leaning up to kiss him before she hip-checks him into the kitchen.

“You act like I’ve been gone a month, not an afternoon.”

He sniffs, trailing after her. “What, a man can’t miss his wife?”

“A man can miss whatever he chooses, and a wife can tell him he’s being ridiculous.”

“Yes, well. You wouldn’t have married me if I were serious.”

They both pause to acknowledge the space where a Sirius pun would fit, before James leaps into action again. The tongs are exchanged for a wooden spoon and he beckons her over to the gravy pan on top of the stove, stirring.

“Here, taste.”

Lily wonders what her sister would say to the idea of a husband cooking dinner, before banishing the thought. Two Petunia thoughts in a day when she typically has none. Perhaps the end times are upon them.

She tastes, closes her eyes in delight. “What I want to know is how the idle son of rich wizarding parents managed to get so good at Muggle cooking.”

“A great deal of panic and many bouts of food poisoning about three weeks before we moved in together,” he says.

The worst part is that he’s probably not even joking about learning to cook in three weeks. Her husband was an illegal Animagus by the time he was fifteen, picking up how to roast a chicken must have been roughly as difficult as simple addition.

And yet. He’d taken to the task as eagerly as any advanced magical problem. I want to make  a home with you, he’d murmured into her ear that first night, arms wrapped around her from behind, chin resting on her shoulder. I want to make a life.

Lily considers, briefly, not telling him. After all, they’re in the middle of a war. They’re both under a great deal of stress, which is as likely an explanation for the mysterious case of the missing menstruation as any,and she won’t have a solid answer for a week or two. There’s always a spell of course, but her mind shies away from that option yet again.

She doesn’t have any doubts about James’ wish to be a father, they’d talked about all that before the wedding. The timing, though–

“Lils?’ James glances behind him, turns the heat down before giving her his full attention. “Everything all right? You never said where you were going this afternoon.”

She opens her mouth before she knows what she’s going to say, but she’s as Gryffindor as he is. Barrelling into the unknown is what they do. Even if they have to cross their arms and squint up at the ceiling to do it.

“I think I might be pregnant?” A beat, silent. “I think I might be pregnant. And this is absolutely absurd, but I went to a Muggle doctor to get a test done to find out, knowing full well it would take a while to get the results back, and I think it’s because my subconscious isn’t quite ready to let go of where I came from yet? Or something equally ridiculous, because having a child would mean that we really are the Potters of Godric’s Hollow, and you have to understand that I was Lily Evans for most of my life even though I love being Lily Potter, and–”

“A baby,” James says, and the light dancing in hazel eyes is like the warmth of that sun he could have swallowed before. “That is - not to interrupt what I’m pretty sure is the first documented case of you babbling, but a baby, Lils.”

The spoon is abandoned. He takes her hands in his, and she focuses on the rasp of Quidditch callouses over her skin as he rubs his thumbs over the back of her hands.

“I’m not sure yet,” she says, staring intently at a freckle on his wrist for all of two seconds before James’s face is in front of hers. He nudges her head up gently until their foreheads rest against each other. She can feel his words against her mouth.

“Not sure if you’re pregnant, or not sure if you want to be pregnant?”

“Trust you to get straight to the heart of the matter.”

“Hey. If you want to skirt around the subject, by all means, let’s go for it. I’m great at skirts.”

She huffs a laugh, wet around the edges. “That’s what got us into this situation.”

“Mm, but you weren’t complaining at the time.” And then his voice drops, warm and low and loving. “Lils. I love you. I want to have a family with you, but if you aren’t ready - if you don’t want to? I’m never ever going to not love you. Whatever you want to do, I’m along for the ride.”

Lily thinks about the war. About how everything is so uncertain these days, about how any child she and James have is going to be born with a target on their back until Voldemort and his followers are dead or locked away. She thinks of the family she’ll never quite be a part of again, and–

And the new one that she’s making. Here in Godric’s Hollow. With James and their friends and everyone else in the Order who believes in fighting for what is good and right in the world.

“I love you too,” she says, and kisses him, lips easing over his, hands curling around his waist and behind his neck to hold him close. “You great big sap.”

The results come back a week and a half later. Lily casts a charm then, just to be certain, before he starts thinking about how to tell her husband he’s going to be a father.

80. Calming the others anger (with sex)

Word Count: 887
Written by: @lovelynemesis

Originally posted by perfectfeelings

You heard the door slam as you were in the shower. You stopped to listen when you heard things being thrown around and slammed down. You knew today was going to be rough for Bucky, but it must have been much worse. You sighed and finished washing your hair.

You stepped out, dried yourself off, and wrapped yourself in Bucky’s robe that was hanging on the back of the bathroom door. You walked into the living room to see the things on the console table were toppled over and scattered on the floor. You continued into the kitchen to see Bucky standing against the island with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed. You could tell he was biting the instead of his lip by the hard set of his jaw. He didn’t acknowledge your presence, but he knew you were there.

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Roommates (Jin/Reader)

Originally posted by bwiseoks

Author: Admin Meyg

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: A repost of an old fic from my previous blog Jinatetae. It was super cringey, so I attempted to revamp it - and failed tbh. Ah well. Please don’t complain of plagiarism, as I stated this is my fic that I am reposting here.

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Auston Matthews #2 - Game Six

@memz-elizabeth- asked: Hi can i get an imagine please? Can i get an Auston Matthews one about the loss of the Stanley cup? a lot of fluff and cuteness please! thanks

So sorry this came out much later than expected. I think I caught a cold from a friend of mine who neglected to tell me she was sick and that I shared a drink with. This was super fun to write because who doesn’t love fluff? I know I do. I hope you enjoy this! 


The great thing about game six of the playoffs taking place at home was that you got to see your boyfriend Auston play live. What wasn’t so great was them losing and you having to watch first hand as they skated heartbroken off of the ice. When all of the parents and significant others gathered to meet them outside of the locker room you went as well but hung towards the back. You wanted Auston to see his parents first since he would likely be riding back with you. It had been Mitch’s turn to drive the carpool and by you bringing your car it gave Auston the room to decide if he wanted to be alone or not.

Your phone buzzed with condolences for Auston from your friends and you answered a few as you waited for your boyfriend to emerge. Auston was one of the last ones out likely because the media wanted to pester him with questions and he made a beeline for his parents, not noticing you. Though usually towering over people with his broad shoulders and 6’3” frame, the way he hunched in on himself gave the impression he was much smaller. You made no attempt to move from your spot against the wall. This was a private moment for Auston and his family and you didn’t want to interrupt.

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