'here i come‚ you say to yourself‚ here i come with a gun full of bullets'

your father was an inventor. you knew better than to trust him in the center of town. he came home with scrap metal and built ships to glide on the grass. when you were young, you loved him for making. for a brief five years, you hated him, embarrassed of the town loon, embarrassed of what raised you.

but time shifts things. the man in town wants to marry you. a beautiful man by every account, and you hear many accounts. your nose in books doesn’t stop the stories of him: Gaston, bright, young, proud. Gaston, who could hunt and carve and flex his muscles. who forgot even himself what was true and what was fiction. it is a small village in paris, at the base of a kingdom. he is the bachelor you should have your heart set on. 

you try to teach yourself to love him. he grins at you over beer mugs. never reads the books you suggest to him, drops one in the mud. and one night you hear him, drunk and singing, laughing with the others about your father, the crazy.

that night your father brings you a single white rose from a garden. you kiss your father and think of Gaston’s log cabin, where you could live in comfort.

they come for your father in the night. he is the property of the prince, on account of theft. his hands should be cut off and sewn to the walls of his house, to remind him of his failures. an inventor without hands is a death sentence. they come with fire and hatred. rip you out of bed. your knees hit the mud. you’re too small to fight them. they tear your father away from you, and your heart out of your chest.

you run to gaston. tall, fast, manly. you beg him. it’s a mistake, you cry, you must help - you gulp - and then we will marry. 

gaston laughs and slams oak door against nose. you stumble back, feeling like a knife is in your throat. you take the wagon horse and ride improper, legs spread and bent forward, none of the lady your mother would have wanted. you ride for the life of your father.

at the door of the castle you stop. it is raining. you shout and rave and beg anything. take me, you scream, if you’re listening i’ll do anything. what do you promise on that doorstep, crying yourself empty? what do you promise to keep him alive, to keep him whole, to keep him healthy?

the door opens late. no one is there. you remember, suddenly, the tale of the beast who lives here, who ate the prince, who is terrifying. you think you hear your father and suddenly you are running, following his voice down dark hallways with no ending. 

he is in a cell. his head is bleeding. you feel your breath hitch. 

“will you?” a voice says, “will you trade yourself for your father, take responsibility for his sin?”

“he’s innocent,” you snarl, “you animals.”

“the rose, belle,” he whispers, and you stare at him. a white rose that is wilting beside your bedside would have been the death of him.

“take me,” you say, somehow empty and full at the same time, “if that’s what you need.”

the first night is ugly. you spend it crying. 

over time, the castle learns you, and you learn it. you think you are imagining the talking furniture for most of it. invisible hands whisk food in and out, bring you ball gowns and petticoats and delicate flowers. 

and always, the beast. at first, you were terrified of it. always in the shadows. moving like a ghost, prowling. tall, slim. menacing. never showing any skin, any proof it might be human.

but time and comfort destroy fears. you don’t run when it is in the room, you no longer shield your face in fear. it wears a mask, and this is how you know it really must be beastly. 

it is the second winter when you, playing snowball fights with the statues - you manage to hit the beast in the face. you freeze, and the panic from the day they took your father returns in a firework.

but then the beast is throwing back. and you are laughing. the next morning it is at breakfast with you, and lunch. it comes and goes, and never speaks. laughs, sometimes, you think. talks with its hands. the furniture translates. you learn, because you are good at learning. the hands that mean can i come in? the hands that mean are you hungry? the hands that mean is it okay if i read next to you, here this book is good, i found this for you.

each morning you wake up with white roses by your bedside. you learn to talk a little louder than you’re used to, to move your own hands in a way that acknowledges the beast. it is strange that you were a quiet girl and now you are comfortable shouting. the two of you have your own language, together. it teaches you swordfighting, you teach it dancing. it teaches you archery and you teach it cooking. you walk through the gardens together. there are moments where your hands touch and for some reason you blush like it was kissing. you’ve never had someone who understands you so completely. sometimes you tell it about far-away stories. sometimes you tell it about your village. and sometimes, when you are raw, you tell it about gaston and the marriage you didn’t want and your father and his insanity

one of these nights the beast brings you the mirror. you cry when you see your father. and the beast is pulling you, running, picking out a horse from the stables, gesturing. go, go. you cry when you leave.

you save your father. tell him you’ll bring him back to the beast. do you talk too loud? is gaston only mad you never belonged to him? when the raid starts, you are still taking care of your father. outside, voices, ringing. kill the beast. you think of hands, dancing in the air to speak, and you think you have never heard something so ugly. you’re ashamed to be this species.

you ride in their wake, your father safe. you ride that same panicked race as three years ago to the day. 

you fight, because the beast taught you how. the castle fights, because it is protecting its life. and the beast - you watch the flash of a blade, careful not to kill - the ability you once mistook for savagery. 

it isn’t enough. gaston, and a gun. the three of you stand on the balcony, you in between. again you are begging this man, who means nothing. “leave the beast,” you say, “take me.”

“i’ll have both,” he says, and shoots. you feel the bullet streak by you. the beast is all movement, has pushed you out of the way. they grapple, and you scream when the beast falls, skittering. gaston marches over and you move without thinking. he falls into the night silently. 

you can’t get there quick enough. you gather the beast into your lap, begging be okay. at the mask, you whisper something, and then say it again with your hands. i love you, you say. you were the best thing to happen to me.

the mask slips. a voice says, “belle,” and you are hit with the full force of something that feels like music. you can’t breathe. 

the girl beneath the mask is beautiful. her blonde hair spills across your legs. she touches your face and her hands say i’m okay, and you’re laughing. you kiss her and roses open up in you. 

“i thought you were a beast,” you say with hands and lips a hair above hers, “and here you are, the beauty.”

she smiles sheepishly. it is hard when you are like me. 

your are sobbing. you kiss her again, because you can, because she’s here and perfect and the answer to questions you didn’t know you had been asking. 

her hands, curious, worried, search for your wet cheeks. i’m okay, really, belle. you saved me.

funny, your hands dance, i was about to say the same thing.

The Five Things You Know, and the One You Don’t

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2567

A/N:  back for round twoooo…..I feel like we all need some Bucky fluff right now

Originally posted by seabasschino

Keep reading


// character: peter parker/spider-man

// pairing: peter x reader

// summary: “I knew you’d catch me. You always catch me.”


You didn’t expect there to be this many guards.

The amount of black-clad, heavily-armed, and well-trained soldiers chasing after you could probably fill a stadium, you think as your feet pound against the sleek floors of the hallways, searching for a way out.

The bio-weapon is tucked neatly in the bag slung around your shoulder. It’s a simple retrieval mission, get in, acquire the weapon, get out. But you start to think maybe you’ve bitten off a little more than you can chew. As a bullet whizzes directly towards where your head was seconds before, you grit your teeth and run harder.

They’re everywhere, and closing fast. Yet another hallway leads to a dead end, and you curse, ducking into a nearby door and shutting it softly behind you. “Where the hell are you?” you hiss into your comm link.

“The cops just picked up the ringleader,” comes Peter’s swift reply. “He’ll be behind bars soon. I’m coming.”

You bite your lip. “Hurry. I can’t get out; they’ve got all the exits blocked.”

“Air vents?”

“Sealed, all of them. Peter,” you breathe, and for just a moment, the fear creeps into your voice, “there’s too many of them. I can’t take them all.”

There’s a slow exhale on the other end, and you can picture the tiny downturn of his lips, the way he fidgets with his hands when he’s nervous. “Listen to me, just sit tight, okay? The police are on there way, and I’ll be there in a bit.”

You pause for a moment, listening to the thundering of footsteps. "I don’t think waiting is an option.” Silence replies, and you take a deep breath. “Meet me on the northeast side of the building, okay? Three minutes. Be ready.”

“What? What are you–”

“Three minutes, Peter. Just trust me.”

You hear him sigh,  and there’s a long hesitation. “Okay.”

Your fingers are shaking ever so slightly as they set a timer on your watch. You open the door, just a crack, barely enough to see out of. The hall looks empty. Holding your breath, you push it further and slip out, barely making a sound.

You slip into a rhythmic jog, keeping your footfalls muffled while sticking close to the walls. When you stop, across from you is a floor-to-ceiling window, orange light from the sinking sun streaming in and making the room glow. There’s two halls spreading out from here, but both of them lead to locked doors. You take a deep breath and glance through the glass. You’re standing on the fifth floor, the concrete sidewalk looking merciless beneath you. The elevator’s shut down, the stairs blocked. There’s no other way out.

Maybe this isn’t one of your best ideas. Just a second off in timing could leave you splattered on the pavement or overwhelmed by guards. But there’s not much of a choice right now. Two minutes, fourteen seconds. Your heart thumps uncomfortably as you watch seconds tick down, waiting. You’re nervous, but Peter always has your back, you remind yourself. Even before he got his powers, he was your hero. He’ll catch me. He always does.

You hear the attacker before he pulls the trigger, ducking out of the way as his bullet hits the glass behind you. As a web of cracks blooms from the hole, you throw yourself at the man, easily swiping his gun and knocking him to the floor. Fortunately, he doesn’t get back up, but a fresh wave of soldiers streams into the room. Peter’s still a full minute out.

For a few more seconds, you can stand your ground. You hold them off fairly well, except they just keep coming, like some multiplying hydra; every time you take out one soldier, four take its place. You’re backed further and further against the glass. Swallowing hard, you eye the street below you nervously. Your timer’s still ticking down from twelve, but right about now, you don’t have many options.

“Peter?” you say, and, without waiting for a reply, “I love you.”

Glass explodes from the window as you throw yourself through it. You’re falling, spiraling towards the ground, a helpless victim of gravity. You can’t even hear the scream rip from your throat, don’t even feel the glass slicing your skin. Adrenaline rushes through you. The air is all-consuming as you cut through it, the concrete getting closer and closer.

You’re vaguely aware of onlookers staring from the ground at the body falling from the sky. Your body, soon to be nothing more than a splatter on the pavement. He’ll come, you tell yourself, screwing your eyes shut and letting your heart race at the speed of sound as fear washes over you. He’ll catch me.

He’ll always catch me.

And then he’s there. Suddenly, you’re pressed against his chest, with his heartbeat in your ears alongside your own, and he’s the only real thing in the world. You’re in his arms, you’re in Peter’s arms, and here, you’re safe. You let yourself breathe again.

He’s yelling something, but it’s lost to the roar of the wind and the rush of blood in your head. You’re low enough to brush the tops of cars if you point your toes, and it hits you how close you came. But you’re alive. You’re with him.

Peter touches down neatly on the sidewalk, clinging to you for a long moment before yanking you into an alley, away from clicking cell phones and prying eyes. He pulls off his mask, revealing pale cheeks and wide, terrified eyes beneath them.  "What were you thinking?“ he yells, his hands clutching yours tightly enough to make his knuckles go white, even now. "Jumping out a freaking window? I thought…God, Y/N, I thought I was gonna lose you.” He pulls you close again, your body curving into his as he presses his head against your shoulder. “If I had been even a second later–”

“You weren’t,” you say softly.

“But I could’ve been.”

“Peter,” you pull back, tilting his chin upwards with your hand and wrapping your arms around his neck, “I’m okay. You saved me. I knew you’d catch me.”  You look at him, his deep brown eyes finally locking on yours. “You always catch me.”

He lets out a little breath of laughter, running his hand through your hair, and it brings a smile to your face. “I swear, if you scare me like that again…” he warns.

You smirk. “You’ll what? Ground me?” Grinning, you slip the bag over your head and dangle it in front of him. “I got the weapon, Webhead.”

A smile eases its way onto his face as he swipes it out of your hands. “After we return this to the police, you’re buying me a coffee as an apology” he announces, slipping on his mask. “And a biscotti. I think I deserve it.”

“Pig,” you say with a snort, playfully bumping your shoulder into his.

Peter laughs and grabs your waist, letting you hook your arms around his neck. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispers softly, letting out a small breath as he launches a web at the rooftop and swings into the sky. “And I love you, too.”

Home - Arkham!Jason x Reader

A/N: AAAAAHHHH Beauty and the Beast comes out this week so I’m celebrating it the only way I know how: by making an angsty songfic. So this one is based off the Broadway version’s ‘Home’. It’s one of my absolute favorite songs from all the iterations of Beauty and the Beast!

Word count: 1,737

You’re an idiot of the absolute worst kind.

The city had been evacuated and you were just about to get on the very last bus out of the city when you realized you had left all of your father’s research back at your apartment. Your father urged you to forget about it, that it wasn’t important but you ran off anyway before he could stop you. That research was important, he had been working on it your entire childhood and you just knew that it would change the world one day. You couldn’t just sit by and chance it being destroyed along with the city.

So you ran back into the city, knowing fully well that there would be no more evacuation buses headed out of the city and there was a possibility that you might die. You dad tried to stop you as did the officers guarding the buses but you easily slipped past them. You father tried going after you but the officers were successful in stopping him.

‘Don’t worry dad. We’ve lived in Gotham for over twenty years, I’m sure I can find a way to survive this new level of hell.’

You quickly travel back to your apartment and shuffle through the papers at your father’s desk before stuffing them, along with his numerous notebooks into your backpack. When you thought you had everything that you could possibly ever miss you left your apartment and locked the door behind you. Tightly clutching the straps of your backpack you cautiously made your way to the GCPD building. You figured that would be the safest place for you given the circumstances.

The city is in a worse state than you thought. Criminals run rampant, raiding unsecured stores and breaking into any abandoned cars left of the street. The city is empty so the city’s worms came out to feast on Gotham’s corpse.You kept your head down and tried to avoid drawing any attention to yourself. But of course you couldn’t be that lucky. A group of thugs spotted you and started following you, calling catcalls at you as they stalked behind you. Your heart started racing as you began to quicken your pace. You need to get to the police station now.

You were less than a block from the GCPD building when the thugs roughly grabbed you by the arm and shoved you against the brick wall of a building.

“Pretty and dumb. Just my type.” One of them purred in your ear. You felt like vomiting at the way they were leering at you. One of the thugs reached up and attempted to grab hold of your face but you responded by biting down on his hand. He howled in pain and whipped his gun out, pressing it against your temple.

“Fucking bitch! Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t pump your head full of lead. Gotham’s lawless now sweetheart, no one’s going to care if one bitch drops dead.” He growled, cocking the gun, fully prepared to pull the trigger. You clenched your eyes closed so that you wouldn’t see the shot coming. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard a nearby gunshot ring out but you slowly opened your eyes when you realized the shot didn’t come from the gun pressed to your head. You relief was short lived however when you saw that your attacker now had a fresh bullet hole through his temple, his expression now blank and lifeless.

You screamed in fright and shoved the corpse away from you. The body hit the pavement with a hard thud. The other attackers ran off as soon as the shot had rang out but now you were trying to run away as well. Your body ran smack into the assassin, his hands reaching out to take hold of your arms. You let out another scream which he instantly covered with his large hand.

“Do you want to get shot?” He growled through the modified voice his helmet was omitting. With tears streaming down your cheeks you shook your head fearfully. Suddenly, a car speed down the road and squealed to a stop in front of you.

“Get in.” Your new captor demanded. You were hesitant to follow his orders but at the same time you very much wanted to survive tonight. When you were seated in the car he tied a blindfold over your eyes and instructed the driver to go.

“Where are you taking me?” You asked, your voice quivering with fear. The car was silent except for the occasional chatter of the radio in the front seat. Your captor sighed and shifted forward in the seat.

“I’m taking you somewhere safe. Gotham is about to turn into a giant shit show.”

“Please. I just want to go home.” You pleaded.

“Believe me, this is the safest place in Gotham. Nothing bad will happen to you.” He swore. The car drove on in heavy silence until you eventually felt it come to a stop.

“I’m going to pick you up now. I’m not going to hurt you.” He warned before taking you into his arms and lifting you off the seat. He walked with you in his arms for a ways before he set you back on your feet, keeping a firm hand on your shoulder as if to say ‘don’t fucking run’. You hear the click of a lock and he guides you through the doorway before closing the door behind him. He steps behind you and removes the blindfold from your eyes.

You blinked a few times as your eyes adjusted to taking in light again. You were surprised to find that the place he took you to looked like a cozy apartment other than the fact that there were no windows. All the light in the apartment-like bunker came from artificial light sources.

You turned to him, finally getting a good look at him for the first time. He was tall and muscular but that’s about all that you could tell about him because covering his face was a smooth that glowed blue. His whole appearance seemed soldier like and his whole appearance screamed power and control.

“Please let me go. I won’t tell anybody about any of this I swear.” You pleaded once more. Everything about this man frightened you to the bone. How the hell did you get yourself into this mess?

“This is for your own safety. You’ll be safe here for now.” He repeated. “If you need anything there are guards just outside the door.”

“Please I-” You started to argue

“You’re staying here. It won’t be safe out there for you tonight. This is your home for now.” He leaves slamming the door behind him. You rush to the door and turned the handle to find it locked from the outside.

“Let me go! Please!” You cried pounding at the door only to be met with silence. When you realized that you would be getting no help from anyone, you hung your head in your hands and slid down the door. You brought your knees up to your chin and began sobbing. You felt so hopeless and terrified. You just wanted to go home.

When you had no more tears to shed you pushed yourself onto your feet and aimlessly explored what would be your new home. You couldn’t help but to bitterly scoff at the thought. Home? How could you ever consider a place like this home?

Sighing, you walked into what would best be described as a living room and found the remote to the TV, your only line to the outside world. You changed it to the news channel only to see coverage of the carnage that was plaguing the city right now. You supposed your captor was right. There was no way you’d be able to survive up there now. If only for your survival for your father’s sake, this was the best place for you to stay.

Not that you really had a choice in the matter anyway.

Your blood boiled when the news coverage turned to who was behind all this. A photo taken from a blurry security camera was blown up on the screen. On figure was clearly the Scarecrow, the other unknown accomplice at his side was currently being debated by the commentators but you knew that striking figure from anywhere. This man who was plotting to take over the city was the same man who seemed to care enough about your safety to hide you away wherever this place was.

You felt sick to your stomach. Sick that a monster like him showed you some level of consideration, sick that this man had so much power over you and the city, sick that you were powerless to stop any of this. All you could do was sit here, locked away, and watch the horror unfold.

Savior or not, you could never forgive him for what he was doing to your city. If he thinks that sparing you from what he had planned made everything right he needs to think again.

You got to your feet and threw the remote down on the couch behind you. You had to find a way out of here and soon. You started searching the bunker for any way out. The apartment was flawless and had no clear way out other than the front door. The door was clearly not an option seeing as how the Arkham Knight’s men would be standing guard. There is no escape.

You felt a chill strike though your heart. You don’t deserve to lose your freedom in this way but you could see no way out. What you’d give to return to the life that you’ve known lately to escape this entire nightmare and just be back home at your family’s side.

But you can’t. You are at the complete mercy of this monster shut away from the world until who knows when. If you’re here for a day or forever you will never stop trying to escape. He’ll have to build higher walls around you, post an army at your door, change every lock and key before you’d ever stop trying to escape the Arkham Knight.

BTS Mafia au! You show him your shooting skills


Looking at the amount of bulls-eyes you were able to shoot would make Jin quite proud of his pretty innocent looking girlfriend. He knew that you would be able to take care of yourself if there were to be a situation that called for it. Flustered Jin would also come out when you wanted to shoot other guns instead of the ordinary .44 Magnum. 

“Jagi, I’m very happy you can shoot a gun but please, let’s not use the Bazooka in here alright?”

“But I want to explode some things….”

“Maybe next time…..”

Originally posted by nnochu


Min Yoongi / Suga

Watching you aim the S&T Motive K14 (a sniper) with such steadiness was something that alarmed Yoongi. He thought you were just an innocent girl who so happened to fall in love with a mafia leader. Yoongi started to think that you were an undercover spy working for the government when really, you were an assassin which you kept a secret that you kept from him.

“Oppa, I’m just a trained assassin, that’s it.”

“Oh - I thought you were working with the cops… WAIT YOU’RE AN ASSASSIN!?”

“Hehehe…..I guess I should’ve told you ages ago…..”

Originally posted by yoonseokismyreligion

Jung Hoseok / J-Hope

Hoseok turned from an emotionless moon to an overjoyed sunshine. You put the weapon down, too scared to hold onto it anymore and the embarrassment was starting to slowly killing you. You had almost hit the target but instead hit the ceiling which rebounded the bullet right next to one of Hoseok’s men which by the way, you both hated with a passion.   


“Hoseok….. I almost killed one of your men…..”

“ *whispers* who cares he’s a piece of shit…*shouts* BUT I’M STILL PROUD OF YOU!!”

Originally posted by jminies

Kim Namjoon

Namjoon stayed quiet while you recollected yourself. Let’s say… you had too much fun and almost fired at one of your guards that Namjoon assigned to you. When you finally did, Namjoon walked up to you and started asking questions. He wanted to know why you reacted the way you did and more importantly, why you didn’t tell him about this side.

“Jagi, what happened just then, hm?


“I need to know so I can take care of you.”

Originally posted by rapnamu

Park Jimin

Jimin couldn’t help but laugh when he saw you grab the pistol with your two shaky hands and very poorly try aiming for the middle of the target. Before you could even press the trigger, you feel Jimin’s hand onto yours, adding stability into your shot. You let Jimin re-focus the gun and with his cue, you pulled the trigger.

“See? That wasn’t too hard was it Jagi?”

“Oppa……I’m still shaking..”

“Awww, how about we go do something else instead?”

Originally posted by itschiminie

Kim Taehyung

Dropping his phone, Taehyung runs up to you, wanting to give you a bone crushing hug. Although it was your first time shooting, you had managed to hit a head shot, not only impressing your mafia leader boyfriend but the guards surrounding the place as well. 

“Jagi, are you sure you have never shot a gun before?”

“Nope, I guess it was a lucky shot.”

“Babe, I know you’re destined to be apart of this business. Oppa is proud of you.”

Originally posted by mvssmedia

 Jeon Jungkook

Jungkook knew of your family of assassins and naturally wanted to see your skills with a weapon. Nothing could prepare him for the mess that was you. Expecting you to have perfect aim and a clean shot was what Jungkook wanted to happen. Instead, your shot landed at the bottom of the dummy with a very loud ‘clank’ sound. 

“So… you’re not good at shooting then?”

“Oppa, I specialize in knives, not guns.”

“Well, you could’ve told me sooner… the boys think you’re a prodigy at shooting….”


Originally posted by gotjhope

We don’t want to do this.  We are all afraid.  But if you stayed behind you would be alone.  Your friends are going; you go too.  You’re not a person anymore.  You don’t have to be who you are anymore.  You’re part of an attack, one green object in a line of green objects, running toward a breach in the Citadel wall, running through hard noise and bursting metal, running, running, running…you don’t look back.

The air is being torn.

The deck shifts beneath your feet.  The asphalt sucks at your feet like sand on the beach.

You feel like you could run around the world.  Now the asphalt is a trampoline and you are fast and graceful, a green jungle cat.

Your Boy Scout shit is wet with sweat.  Salty sweat wiggles into your eyes and onto your lips.  Your right index finger is on the trigger of your M-16.  Here I come, you say to yourself, here I come with a gun full of bullets.  How many rounds left in this magazine?  How many days left to my rotation date?  Am I carrying too much gear?  Where are they?  And where the hell are my feet?

A face.  The face moves.  Your weapon sights in.  Your M-16 automatic rifle vibrates.  The face is gone.

Keep moving.

—  Gustav Hasford, The Short Timers
Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

Word Count: 3,425

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: serious angst, violence, mention of drugs, PTSD, few swear words

Summary: After being sent home from an honorable discharge from the Army, you meet the U.S hero Steve Rogers while at a VA meeting lead by Sam Wilson.

The sounds of gunfire rang out as you clench your gun to your chest. You peek out over the ditch you were currently hiding in, and immediately you are met with a round of bullets flying towards you. You quickly duck and watch the bullets pass above your head—right where you had been a moment ago.

Keep reading

(Request: so I just listened to a song and there was this line “Cause once upon a time you were my everything It’s clear to see that time hasn’t changed a thing” & I thought it would be perfect for Daryl x reader imagine)

Note: Enjoy!

warning: Mild fluff!

Originally posted by negandarylsatisfaction

“Hey baby, can you come here a second?” You sat on the sofa in the middle of your apartment as you waited for your boyfriend Daryl to come in the living room. You had convinced him to move away from his lousy brother and start a life for himself, and he did. He walked into the room and sat next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“What’s up?” He asked, lighting up a smoke.

“What colour curtains do you want for this place?” You asked, showing him a list of colours from a magazine.

He took a drag of his cigarette and shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever you want (y/n), they all look good” he looked at you while you contemplated what colour to get. He smiled down at you, giving thanks that you had helped him get his act together, and how he was so lucky to have found a girl like you.

You ran as fast as you could towards the prison. It was the first secure place you had actually found since everything began. Usually you would hold up in a house for a couple of days before the street would fill with walkers. You pushed your hair off your face; dirt, grime and blood clung to your hair and face, making you look like one of the walkers. As you ran through the grassy entrance you waved your hands in the air at the person you saw in the watch tower. You prayed that they wouldn’t shoot and thank fully they didn’t. Instead they ran inside and a few seconds later they brought out a few more people. You ran up to the first fence and shouted for them to let you in. The people looked amongst each other before one of the men started walking towards you. You noticed a man exit the prison block with a crossbow and your mind immediately went to Daryl. He was always carrying one of those around when he went hunting with Merle. You pushed the thought away as it broke your heart to think about him. You were so focused on the man walking towards you that you didn’t even realise the walkers coming up behind you.

“Shit” you shouted as you rammed your knife into its head. You looked around at the others that were getting closer. You were about to take the next one out when it dropped to the floor, a bullet entering its head. You looked behind you and saw a sniper in the tower.

“Come on!” the man shouted, the gate was now open for you to come in and you did, running as fast as you could.

Once you got into the main courtyard you were held at gunpoint by two kids and the man with the crossbow. You immediately lifted your arms up and the other man who let you in came running over. He too pointed his gun at you and you raised your arms even higher. You said nothing as you panted to get your breath back.

“Who are you? How did you get here?” He asked, getting in your face.

“(Y/n)” you said frantically. “I was just passing and I saw the prison, it looked secure so I came”

You looked the man in the eyes, hoping he would see the honesty in your eyes.

“Did you say (y/n)?” the man with the crossbow asked. You looked at him clearly now and he looked so much like Daryl, you rubbed at your eyes to make sure you weren’t seeing things.

“Yeah, (y/n) (y/l/n)” you said, almost questioning yourself.

He stepped closer to you, lowering his crossbow and staring into your eyes. You took a step back and he looked hurt.

“Don’t ya recognize me?” he asked.

The way he looked, the way he spoke. It was Daryl. You had no doubt in your mind. Tears started to rise in your eyes and you moved closer to him.


He nodded his head and pulled you in for a tight hug, you let your tears spill as you felt the familiar comfort of his arms wrapped around you. You let all your emotions out and you nearly collapsed in his arms. You had been on your own surviving for so long, it was good to finally see someone you knew and loved. You let your guard down and dropped your knife as you hugged him.

You had been with the group for about a month now. You pulled your weight by helping keep the prison safe and by going out on runs with Daryl. The first night you were there you slept like a rock, finally allowing yourself to sleep with both eyes closed instead of keeping one open just in case. You were fed good food and water, they had a doctor and friendly people. You were finally home.

You had just got back to your cell from the watch tower, you had the evening shift and it was now late. You quietly closed the cell door and placed your weapons on the chair opposite the bed where Daryl slept. You peeled off your jacket before carefully sliding into the bed with him. He scooted over and you felt bad for waking him up.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” you whispered.

“Nah, I was waiting for ya” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist, his body heat instantly warming you up.

He leaned over and kissed you, the kiss was slow and passionate, both of you taking the time to taste each other and re-explore each other’s mouths. You pulled away from the kiss and leaned your head back on the pillow, adoring his gorgeous blue eyes that bore into yours.

“Once upon a time, before all of this” you started. “You were my everything”

He smiled down at you and squeezed your waist. “It’s clear to see that time hasn’t changed a thing” You laughed and so did he, both of you reconnecting your lips and making out like teenagers.

“I love you (y/n). I never got a chance to say it before all of this” He whispered.

“I love you too” you caressed his cheek with your hand and gave him one last kiss before falling asleep in his arms.

Pretty Boy

Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Male!Reader
Summary: No matter how much Stiles annoy you, you couldn’t but help but protect him.
Word Count: 850
Request: Can I request a Stiles Stilinski x Male!Reader one-shot where the Male!Reader who is a werewolf takes a wolfsbane bullet for Stiles after a hunter mistakes the latter for a werewolf? Fluffy & romantic ending if you can, thanks! 
Warning: Injury, blood,

Originally posted by stallingdemons

You didn’t know why Scott had sent Stiles out with you, he was human and you were his protection. You knew that a metal baseball bat is not going to offer him much protection, you mean how quickly is his reaction time can be against a very fast werewolf or a trained hunter?

“Just don’t do anything stupid.”

You heard a loud gasp behind you, rolling your eyes before continuing to walk the forrest as Stiles ran behind you trying to catch up, “I am offended that you would think that I would do something stupid!”

“Listen, here pretty boy, we’re here to gather some evidence against the hunters.” You mumbled before running your hand through your hair.

Stiles looked on with a smile, he’ll never say but if he had to pick a favourite wolf it had to be you. You may not be an alpha but you had more rationalised ideas that wouldn’t get people killed.

You were intelligent but god damn very protective, Stiles basically fawns over you. He never had taken notice of you since he was infatuated with Lydia, but when you had helped Scott with being a werewolf from the very beginning Stiles had realised how much time he was wasting on keeping his eyes on someone else when obviously there is someone that is so much better.

Not to mention that you called him pretty boy, it made his heart flip inside out and made him giddy like a school child. 

Stiles smiles as you continue to trudge through the forest, “So, what exactly are we looking for?”

“I don’t know, Stiles, blood? A dead body? Weapons?” You told him as you looked up to the sky, “We better hurry, night is upon us and we don’t want be snuck up on.”

Silence had fallen upon you and him, coming up to a spot of the forrest where there was tracks left behind. Footprints and fabrics left behind in the branches. Picking it up before wolfishly sniffing it out, confirming the doubts.



“Yes, Stiles, what else?” You asked irritated, watching Stiles open his mouth and started to ramble which induced you to roll your eyes.

“It could be anything really, (Y/n), it could be another werewolf or a were something.” Stiles shrugs watching you examine the fabric, “It could be a new type of supernatural beings such as vampires, witches, mermaids.”

“Mermaids?” You suddenly exclaimed, bewildered, “In the middle of the forrest where no water can be seen for another three miles?”

“True, well, that rules out mermaids, but how can you be sure it’s a hunter?”

You huffed, “you know, I regret a lot of things. Having this conversation tops the list.” You turned to look at him, before throwing the fabric, “Smell it.”

“I’m not smelling-” Stiles complaint went unfinished as you sent him a glare before hesitantly sniffing it, “Smells like metal, like wolfsbane, so not a werewolf-”

As Stiles continues to deduce the fabric, you noticed a man coming up behind Stiles. A hunter, you noted. The man cocked his gun and aimed at Stiles, your wolf instinct kicked in as you quickly used yourself as a shield for Stiles.

A searing pain hitting you in the lower back, Stiles looked at you shocked, as you stumbled forward. Stiles caught you as the man continues to shoot bullets at your way. Stiles ducked as he slung your arm over his shoulders and quickly running out of the hunter’s sight.

“You better live or I’ll murder you,” Stiles grunted as he puts you down by a rock, looking at the bullet wound, noting down how you became white quickly, “I’m calling Scott, you think you can live for another five to ten minutes?”

You quirked up a smile, “Yeah, dummy, I can. Hurry though, I think it was laced with wolfsbane and it’s spreading.”

Stiles’ eyes widen, “You think it was laced wi- I, are you kidding me? How do you not know?”

“It’s not everyday that I get shot with a wolfsbane bullet, you know,” You groaned, “Go, make the call, the longer you stall I fear I will die, like very dramatic too - just for you pretty boy.”

Stiles played with his phone at his hand before softly grinning down at you, “Thanks, by the way, for protecting me.”

You grinned wolfishly, “Like I said, anything for you pretty boy. Just for you.”

Stiles quickly dialled in Scott’s number and briefly explaining the situation before abruptly hanging up. He comes back to you before pressing the wound on your back causing you to wince. He just ignores the warm red liquid that was oozing out of you.

“We could go see a movie, you know, after this.” Stiles began to rant, he was always good at that, talking unnecessary amount of words, “I planned to ask you out, on a date. Just us two, maybe bowling then the museum or library-”

“I would love that, Stiles, I really would.”

Stiles raised his eyebrow, “That’s good, so you better stay alive.”

“Just for you, pretty boy.”

The Midnight Boys

Words: 9817 
Pairing: Keith/Lance
Summary: The one where Lance and Keith meet up during the night to talk and slowly fall in love

{read it on ao3}

The eternal darkness was not the most overwhelming part about traveling across the universe. It wasn’t the vast emptiness that swallowed the ship up like a pill, and it wasn’t even the realization that he floated in an entirely different solar system than the one his family looked up into.


For Lance, the most overwhelming part of it all was a boy named Keith.

Keith was a force to be reckoned with. He was a loaded gun, waiting to go off at the first sign of danger. His words were bullets aimed for the kill and even though Lance had been shot before, he always found himself coming back, the pain not quite unbearable enough for him to stay away. Keith was intriguing, as hot-headed and cold as he was irresistible. He was a solid force that Lance couldn’t seem to get around no matter how hard he tried.

Keep reading

Neighbours: Part Twenty

The Fight

Part One | Part Nineteen | Part Twenty Part Twenty-One |

I can smell the alcohol on Whitley’s breath as he leans close to me and I don’t doubt that mine and Tommy’s blatant display of affection has angered him something wicked, but as he stumbles around trying to direct me from the house I decide to humour whatever deviant plan he’s concocted that he hopes will prove the point that I’m not supposed to be with Tommy. So I comply without argument as he pushes me out one of the side doors to the grounds and away from the many pairs of eyes inside. As the door closes and the noise becomes muted, Whitley’s grip moves from my hip to a rough fist in my hair which he uses to yank me down the grass verge and onto the open planes of lawn. We reach a spot that’s far enough away from the house to keep us hidden in the shadows of the surrounding trees, but still allow a decent view of anyone approaching us before Whitley stops. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of screaming or crying, even when he pulls my back to his chest and makes a show of coking his gun and running it along my jaw. Even from the corner of my eye I can see that his hand shakes as he holds the gun against my temple.

Keep reading

Come A Little Bit Closer You’re My Type of Man

fandom: Guardians of the Galaxy 
pairing/warnings: Yondu x Reader self insert
author’s notes: this is 110% @dynamate​‘s fault 

summary: explicit Yondu x Reader. There’s a bar fight, Yondu makes a dad joke, and I stole a line from To Have and Have Not.

also on AO3

Keep reading

Change of Heart (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester x Sarah Jones (OC), Sam Winchester

Length: 1922+ words

TW: Character Death

One of the easiest things she realized was when she had fallen in love with Dean Winchester. And it was easier to know when he had fallen in love with her, as well.

She knew him like the back of her hand.

So, it’s no surprise that she would know the exact moment when Dean Winchester had fallen out of love with her.

It was just another vampire case, 40 minutes from Kansas. Nothing too complicated. Except, of course, their relationship. Garth had called them when they were unpacking at the motel. He said something about another hunter being there. Dean had rolled his eyes, telling him to tell the other hunter that this case was theirs. Sam insisted that perhaps they would just meet the other hunter, hoping that they knew more about the case than they did at the moment. And foolishly, you agreed with Sam.

Her name was Sarah Jones. She was an amazing hunter- smart, calculating, and a total badass. It was like you guys had known each other for years. She just fell into stride with the team, and you can tell that Dean was smitten. How could he not?

She shared similar interests with him, from their choice of alcohol to their love for cars. You’ve heard them talking for hours, well into the night. When Dean had invited her back to the bunker, you couldn’t hide your excitement. Having another girl would really help balance the team dynamic. You and Sarah got along so well, she quickly became your closest friend and confidant.

And that’s why you had no concerns when you brought up the fact that you sensed the connection between her and Dean.

She took your hand as she shuffled closer to you on the edge of her bed.

“You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you,” she said, squeezing your cold hand.

“I know,” you replied honestly. “But I see the way he looks at you too, Sarah. He’ll be happier with you- I just know it.”

“Y/N, he’s dating you! And he hasn’t broken up with you- It definitely means that he’s still in love with you.”

You shook your head. “I know him. He’s going to stay with me because he feels guilty- after everything we’ve been through, he probably would’ve never thought this would be how we end. But you can’t choose who you love, and he chooses you. I’m going to break up with him tomorrow.”

“That’s not fair, Y/N. You should at least talk to him. See how he feels about the situation.”

“You know he’s not much of a talker. Anyone can easily dissect him through his actions, and let’s face the facts. He’s been pulling away from me two weeks after that vampire hunt- it started small, so small that I barely noticed. At first, he just distanced himself from me, and I know sometimes he does that because he feels bad about things, but he’ll come around. I never pushed him to do anything he doesn’t want to do, but then I saw him in the Impala with you, and that’s when I started noticing the changes. He doesn’t ask me to do things with him anymore, he asks you. He barely talks to me anymore, and if he does, it’s about you. Don’t get me wrong, I love talking about how awesome you are, but it’s just different. It’s irreversible now, Sarah. The damage is done. He’s put a wedge in our relationship that he clearly doesn’t want to remove, so I’m doing him a favour.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” She moved her hand to your cheek. “I really didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I know. Be good to him, will you?”

“Of course.”

“And if he hurts you, just lemme know, and I’ll kick his ass- after you kick his, of course.” She laughed, tears starting to fall from her eyes. You quickly wiped them away with your thumb. “No, don’t cry. You’re gonna make me cry.” And true to your words, you couldn’t stop the tears from falling either.

“Do you still love him?” Sarah whispered. The room was dark, and you had her head resting on your shoulder as you played with her hair.

“I can’t answer that,” you replied. It was a fact that was hard to swallow, but you would have to do it, for the happiness of two people that you cared about.

The two of you went to bed hugging each other.

Keep reading

Sweaty Negan

By Chuckyegg7 (My GC girls insisted i call it Sweaty Negan)

They were surrounded by the dead, the sound of gunfire still ringing in their ears. Negan swings Lucille at a walker, it’s brains splattering against the wall.

Lucy watches him from the other side of the yard. Now would be the perfect time to take him out, or it would be if her gun wasn’t empty. While the dead are distracted by Negan, Lucy makes a run for the trailer, slamming the door behind her. “Christ! It’s hot in here!”  She frowns. Lucy peeks out through the partially boarded up window. Negan is limping, so she guesses he won’t have long after all.

Suddenly, the door swings open. Lucy aims her gun at Negan as he closes the door behind him.

“Woah!” Negan frowns, holding his hands up. “Watch where you’re fucking pointing that, sweetheart.”

Keep reading

The Brink of Insanity

A/N: An anon request for a Spencer x Reader, where the reader is on the receiving end of Cat Adams’ insanity rather than Spencer’s mother. (I decided his mother had passed away as he went to prison, shortly after, I guess.) @coveofmemories


“You’re Spencie’s lady friend?” the woman before you asked with a hint of superiority and confusion. Spencie? I’ll fucking kill you. “Why you?” You couldn’t answer, because she bound and gagged you. She came up to your side and grazed the side of your cheek and you glared at her with fire in your eyes. 

This was the woman who had mentally tortured him last year. After going after Garcia, Spencer had stepped up and gone on a “date” to lure in the final member of who they referred to as the Dirty Dozen. Spencer outsmarted her, as he always did, but apparently, she had been out for revenge ever since. When she’d escaped from prison after a maximum security prison malfunction. She wanted to hurt him and considering his mother had already been ripped away from him, the next person he cared about most in this world was you. 

When she ripped the gag from your mouth, you sputtered before hailing insults in her direction. “You psychotic bitch!” you screamed. “Couldn’t handle that Spencer outsmarted you? Had to find a way to get back at him?”

“With a mouth like that, it’s no wonder he likes you. That just proves he’d like me too. We’re a lot a like you and I.”

“Except that I fight for the innocent and your a psychotic whore,” you spat. That got her attention and she smacked you across the face before stepping backwards. 

A smile spread across your face as she stepped back. The only way of talking down an unsub like Cat Adams was to get on their level of crazy. She wanted Spencer to be ripped apart, like she had when he tricked her by luring her father in front of her face. That meant she wasn’t going to kill you, at least until Spencer was in view, and that meant you had a chance to survive this, but only if Spencer got his ass here soon. “Well, I assume that Spencer already knows our location and is on his way with the team.” You looked over to the phone noticing it was on and could undoubtedly be easily traced.

“What makes you say that? Would he risk his life for you?” she asked, a spark of jealously in her eyes.

Why did Spencer always get the crazy bitch unsubs that wanted to get in his pants? Goddammit. “In a heartbeat,” you answered, much to her dissatisfaction. “That’s why you brought me here instead of anyone else. You know I love him…are you jealous you don’t have anyone to care about you like Spencer cares about me?” Again, she reeled back and smacked you across the face. I hit a nerve. Good. “By the way, I was hit harder in elementary school.”

“Go ahead and smile,” she crooned. “Go ahead and laugh. You’re not leaving here alive today, and good ol’ Spencie is gonna watch as I do it. The love of his life, another one anyway, taken away before his eyes…so tragic.”

Spencer would die before he let anything happen to you - which is exactly what you were afraid of. He’d been your best friend for years and you assumed he’d developed feelings for you. After Maeve’s death, you’d gotten even closer than you already were - and you loved him too.

With a smile of her own, she left the room; you were surrounded by gray walls with your hands bound behind your back. Considering she hadn’t put the gag back in your mouth, you figured the walls were soundproof too.


She was sitting in the middle of another room from the one she’d left you in. The entire team would be coming for her. She knew it. But you were in another location, which meant that she wrote the rules. Twiddling a pen in between her fingers, she waited patiently, laughing to herself as she heard Spencie and his team file in through the door. “Where is she, Cat?” Spencer asked, his eyes ablaze in anger. “Tell me where Y/N is right now?” If anything happened to you, he’d never forgive himself for it. You’d been his shoulder to cry on through everything over the past six years.

“Ummm…” Cat said, hitting the pen off her chin. “No. I know where she is and you don’t, which means we play by my rules. Kill me and she’ll die alone.” She cocked her slightly to the side, smirking as she did so. Everything in his body wanted to shoot the smirk off her face.

Spencer bit his lip and lowered his gun, huffing as he pulled her up off the couch by her arm. “Take me to her. Now. Or I swear, I’ll put a bullet in your brain and take my chances finding her myself.”

“Oh, I love it when you talk sweet to me, Spencie,” she said. She could feel his skin crawl as she spoke her nickname for him. “You should do that more often. The whole kinky, anger thing really suits you.”

As she looked toward the rest of the team, guns still drawn and ready to take her out at a moment’s notice, she knew she had full control; they’d do whatever Spencer told them to do, because this was about the two of them. The poor boy genius who assumed he’d never find love again after his tragic Doctor Maeve Donovan was shot in the head, was head over heels in love with his best friend. It was so sickeningly sweet, she could actually vomit. She wanted them isolated - so he could watch her die, and she knew how to get exactly what she wanted. “Your team stays behind,” she said emphatically, motioning with her pen to lower their guns. “You come with me and I’ll show you where she is, but only if it’s just us, you leave your weapon here and no one follows us.”

“Spence, we can find her without her. We just need time,” JJ said, desperate not to lose him to Cat Adams after all he’d been through.

You might not have much more time. Knowing Cat, she’d set some psychotic trap up for you. “We don’t have time.” He handed the gun to JJ and then removed his vest, leaving it on the floor at his feet. “There. Now take me to her.”

This was almost too easy. “Let’s go, Spencie,” she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the door. Suddenly, she revealed a knife. “Any of you follow us, and I’ll slit his throat, so I’d stay back if I were you.” 

Once they were out in the fresh air, she took a deep breath and smiled, as if she’d just woken up from a great night of sleeping under the stars. “Now, that we’re alone, let’s go.” 

“Why her?” he asked.

“Well, frankly, you tricked me with my father, so I was going to do the same with your mother, but she got off lucky and kicked the bucket. Then I thought to myself, who could I take that would hurt him the most? Oh that’s right, his best friend, who he’s been not-so-secretly in love with for years,” she said, leading him through a thick expanse of trees that cut them off from the rest of the world. 

Spencer took a deep breath, fearing the worst. “How do I know she’s not already dead and you’re just isolating me to kill me yourself?”

“You don’t,” she said cheerily. “That’s the fun for me - and revenge, you can never forget revenge.” After a few more paces, she made her way up to a small cabin that couldn’t have been more than a few hundred square feet. “Now, here we are.”

Upon entering the room, Spencer and you locked eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

“It’s not your fault, Spencer.” While she’d been away, you’d managed to loosen the ties on your hands. You could’ve gotten them completely off and left, but you had no idea where you were, and if she returned with Spencer or anyone else and you weren’t there, you had no idea what she would’ve done to them, so you’d stayed put. “I love you, you know that right?”

“Oh gag me,” she said, pulling out her knife again and gently prodding him with it. The tears in his eyes had formed a wall, blurring his vision. While he was distracted, Cat threw a punch to his jaw sending him reeling back into the wall. As she lunged toward you, you kicked your feet out, kicking her in the stomach and sending her back into the wall next to Spencer. “You’ll both watch each other die!” Quickly, she turned around and shoved the knife into his stomach.

Spencer screamed, grabbing his side and putting pressure on the wound as he tried to get to you, falling back as the pain seared through him. This time, when she came at you, you spun the chair around, hands still attached loosely with the ropes, and smacked her down to the floor. In her confusion, you slammed the wooden chair against the wall repeatedly, hoping you’d be able to break it and free your hands.

On the fourth try, the wood finally splintered at your back, freeing your arms. Now you were ready. When she came at you for the third time, you blocked her barrage of hits with your arms, waiting until she left her stomach open so you could punch her. She was put only slightly off balance and reeled back to punch you. In your tired and weakened state, you teetered back into the wall and hit your head, leaving yourself open to her assault. This was it. The knife was headed right toward you. 

Just as you thought you were going to die, something came around her neck and pulled her back. “You underestimated me,” he grunted, tightening his belt around her neck. She put her hands between the belt and her neck, desperately trying to release the restraints, but it wasn’t working, and Spencer was starting to lose his grip; he was bleeding pretty badly. 

“When I get out of this, I’m going to slit her throat,” she choked out. 

Spencer wouldn’t give her the chance. In his months in prison, he realized he would go to certain lengths to protect himself and keep his basic morals, but when it came to someone he loved, he’d go even farther; he’d deal with the consequences later.

With all the strength he could muster, he lifted Cat off the ground and swung her into the wall. A thud resounded throughout the small room as she hit the floor. “Y/N,” he cried, coming to your place at the wall. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you. I’m so sorry.”

You pulled his face toward you and took his mouth in a desperate kiss. “I love you too, but we have to get out of here.” Hesitantly, you kicked the knife she dropped out of her grasp and went to check her pulse. It was gone. “She’s dead.” 

For a second, he looked like he’d lost himself. “You did what you had to do,” you reassured him. “Now let’s go.” Grabbing his hand, you led him out of the small room and realized you were in the middle of a forest. Keeping your grip on his side to slow the bleeding, you made your way in the direction Spencer pointed. 

“You gotta leave me here,” he said, clutching at his side. “I can’t go much further.”

He’d risked his life to save yours - and you loved him. There was no way. “I will not leave you here, Spencer,” you said. “Not an option.” He nearly collapsed for a second time, the searing pain almost too much to bear, when you saw lights out in the distance. A few more paces, and you saw the outline of JJ’s and Emily’s faces. “We’re here!” you screamed. “Spencer’s hurt! We need a medic!”

As they ran up to you, Luke and Stephen picked Spencer up and ran him out of the forest toward the ambulance. “What happened to Cat?” Emily asked.

“She’s dead,” you said limply. “I’d gotten my ties loosened, but not enough. She hit him and he hit the wall, then she came at me and I kicked her in the stomach and back toward the wall. Then she turned around and stabbed Spencer before coming after me again. Eventually, she got the upper hand on me and I thought I was going to die. Spencer took off his belt and put it around her neck. He threw her back at one point into the wall. I checked her pulse, but she’s dead.” Your thoughts drifted to Spencer’s sanity and just how close he was to losing it completely. “I just hope Spencer can come back from this.”

Although tired, you were in much better place than Spencer. JJ and Emily put their arms under yours to help you out, guns still drawn and ready to go. “With you by his side,” Emily said, calming you by smoothing down your hair, “I’m sure he’ll make it through.”

Summary: Eggsy teaches the reader how to use a gun.

Pairing: Eggsy/F!Reader

Originally posted by danniejgrayson

Warnings: none? Its just Eggsy being a handful?

A/N: listen, i am working on my eggsy/oc fic rn and I NEEDED TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT THIS FUCKING CHAV BOY. (btw im sorry for the summary)

A/N 2: btw i don’t really accept requests but I do accept suggestions?? if that makes sense, haha idk man.

anyway i hope you guys like it!

It’s been what? A couple of weeks since you joined? You were barely able to contain yourself when you got accepted into the Kingsman, but the only bad part was…you had a horrible aim.

Hand in hand combat? You could punch a man’s jaw hard enough to dislocate it. White arms? You could use a butter knife! But guns? Guns…were a different story. 

You think Merlin let you stay because you were a good agent, disciplined, polite…but he still commented on your aim. “Higher.” and you’d move lower, “Left arm.” you’d shoot the leg. It’s not really something you’d be bothered unless someone pointed it out for you.

You asked Roxy, actually you begged if she could teach you something. “I’m sorry y/n, I have a mission this week,” she said hurriedly, grabbing her things and running off. You stood on the lower platforms, watching the plane disappear from your sight, leaving you yet again alone without any help.

But then you decided you could read some books, right? It wasn’t that hard? Right? 

Keep reading

Stupid Genetic Mutation

Prompt Request: ‘Can you do a Peter Parker x reader where the reader is Tony Stark’s daughter and she has powers or whatever, and they team up with Michelle and cool stuff. With fluff.’ Requested by @iamaquackson

Peter Parker x Stark! Reader

Summary: While on a class trip, a masked figure attacks, leaving Spider-man and Michelle to swoop in and save the day; with a little help from daddy. (Stark) Reader is thrown into the mix when she follows the two outside in an attempt to offer help, forgetting that she’s far more fragile than she thinks. This is the first Reader is seeing of Michelle’s abilities. Reader’s feelings for Peter cause her to make some rash decisions. Peter’s feelings for reader get him in trouble with feisty Stark girl. Fluff included.

Peter and friends are now late into senior year.

Words: 3.6k

The menacing figure in the exoskeleton suit released another chilling cackle, hovering far above the smoking debris that lined the street. He had come out of nowhere, swooping in, crouched low on a high-tech hover board, a trail of exhaust in its wake, to drop a series of explosives in front of the New York Hall of Science. The line of buses just outside the entrance now lay in disarray and various stages of destruction; one had even managed an impressive aerial display, turning completely end over end several times before crashing down on the steps leading into the Science Hall. Said buses had been emptied of Midtown Highs students only moments before; the drivers hadn’t been so lucky.

Inside of the hall, the touring group of Midtown students crouched low, taking cover where ever they could in response to the attack; panic in their eyes, distress in the voices that filled the air. A few students and chaperones had been loitering around the entrance, the shock of the blast shattering the glass of the windows and doors, littering the atrium with glittering shards, leaving the unfortunate few with glistening wounds on their exposed skin.

Three students had  managed to make their way into the bulk of the exhibits, finding their way through to the rear entrance of the building and escaping out onto the street.

Three students who now huddled behind a couple of dumpsters, one of which was now furiously ripping clothing from his body to get at the red and blue suit underneath.

“Michelle, please take her back inside, Mr. Stark will kill me if something happens to her,” half of his words coming out slightly muffled as he worked to pull his mask over his face. To say you were a little miffed with Peter for talking about you like you weren’t standing right in front of him was an understatement, even with the current state of events.

“Why don’t you take her back inside, boy wonder,” Michelle spat back quickly, sounding irritated for an entirely different reason.

Peter threw both hands in the air at her, “Michelle, please, enough with the macho thing.”

“Hey, you make it easy for me,” she retorted, swinging her bag from her shoulder, flipping it open and rummaging through its contents.

Peter’s shoulders slumped and he threw his head back dramatically, “Why did I agree to this again?”

“Because you need my help and I’m smarter than you are.” She continued to rummage; Peter growing more antsy: he began to bounce back and forth on both feet.

“You are not smarter.” He looked at you then to back him up, looking away again quickly upon noticing the scowl on your face, the hands on your hips ready for his next comment on your ability to make decisions for yourself. He turned back to Michelle instead.

“You’re going to have to pick up the pace a bit,” he was practically vibrating with urgency and nerves, “buses burning, not sure if people are on them, crazy guy flying around in the sky in a creepy mask, can’t wait, you know, emergency.”

Keep reading

quacksontastesgood  asked:

5 & 26 with harry?

5: angry kisses 
26: jealous kisses

im gonna do this with mob!harry cause nobody does that enough

prompt list  ~ continued holland blurb night

Keep reading


This is a continuation of Deadpool’s sidekick because I actually kind of love it??
If you have any other ideas for the (Series?) I’d love to write it!

Everything was silent, until.. 

“It’s time to wake up and validate me again!” Deadpool’s voice announced through the quiet room, just over the sound of the two air-horns he was blasting and boy are you grateful. 

“Fuck off, marshmellow.” You groaned, burying your head underneath your pillow and praying that he goes away. 

Of course since you were a shit person and God wants to punish you for it, Wade did not go away. In fact he threw himself on your bed to demand attention. “No can do, senorita. We’ve got a mission to do. It’s time to wake up and smell the discourse.” 

You muttered a few choice words under your breath before sighing and lifting the pillow just enough to peer at Deadpool through tired narrowed eyes. “How much does it pay?” 

Deadpool chuckled. “See, that’s the thing. Absolutely nothing.” 

Your foot shot out suddenly and swiped his hip. Knocking him off your bed and making you grunt because damn he’s getting heavy. “Get the hell out of my room.” 

Deadpool popped right back up as you shoved the pillow right over your head. 

“Come on, you’re my sidekick! You need to come so that I look cool! I really want to impressive this hottie, please!” Deadpool threw his top half down on your bed and draped himself where he fell. “You have to!” 

“I will shoot you.” 



“It’s cold as balls out here and I miss my bed.” You wrapped your arms around yourself as you and Deadpool stood on a rooftop a couple blocks from your place. Your suit was a little more revealing than Deadpool (Deadpool says because white men in black suits are complete misogynistic losers that just want to please the snotty kids in their mom’s basement looking at your poster. But you think Deadpool’s just a pervert.) so you were freezing in the New York winter season. 

“Look hotter. We have to impress this guy.” 

You groaned. “You could have at least bought me a coffee.” You muttered, huffing as you turned away from him dramatically. 

When you did, there was a slight thump of feet across the roof and you immediately went for your blades. But Deadpool stopped you by stepping forward and greeting the guy. 

Usually that didn’t even make you think about it, but this time was different. Why.. 

“Baby boy!” You fully looked up and started cursing under your breath. 

“We came here for Spider-Man? For free? Are you kidding me?” You snapped, your hands dropping away from your blades because you wanted to choke Wade with your bare hands. 

“Ah, always nice to meet a fan.” Spider-Man mockingly saluted you, and you just sneered back. 

“Don’t worry about her, baby boy-” -”Don’t call me Baby boy. Have we not talked about this?”- “-She just didn’t get her beauty sleep. She’s a real bitch when she doesn’t get her full 9 hours.” 

You rolled your eyes. “What did I get out of bed for? If it’s anything less than a presidential assassination I’m leaving your asses in the cold.” 

Spider-Man tilted his head at you and seemed confused. “I didn’t call you here for anything. I just heard that Wade was back in town so I’ve been putting in some extra patrols in the last few days.” He supplied, and your glare darkened. You were going to murder Wade. This time for real.

“That can’t be good for you.” Wade tsked. “That’s why I gave myself up! We can just hang out together so you can make sure that I don’t unalive anyone, it’s better for your health this way.” Wade nodded sagely. 

The smaller man simply looked up at Wade, over at you, and then back at Wade. “What about her? Why would I trust her not to kill-” “-Unalive!”- “-someone?” 

Wade looked back at you too, and then shrugged. “You can’t. She unalives me all the time.” He perked up then and wrapped his arm around Spider-Man’s shoulders. “So, let us go do Deadpool and Spider-Man things, and my sidekick can tag along too.” 

“I’m not your sidekick!” 


You stood there banging your head against a wall in the middle of a battle field. Bullets were flying, webs were being shot, men were falling to the ground all around you and you were just done with it. 

The killing, oh you could care less about. (Although it wasn’t even killing with Friendly Neighbourhood Boring McFucker around. Deadpool just shot knee caps and shoulders! What fun was that?!) It was the flirting. You’d give anything to leave right now. Anything!

You sighed as you glanced up, and looked around the scene. It was a bank robbery. Or, an attempted one. (They gave it their best shot!) Half the assailants were already down, and you hadn’t even done anything yet. 

“Snugglebugs, watch your six!” Deadpool called as he shot another kneecap and skipped through the mass of bodies screaming on the floor. 

“No nicknames! I forbid them! You’re not allowed them anymore!” Spider-Man announced, yet he still whipped around and shot a web at a man’s hand when he was ready to shoot his gun at him. 

“Whatever you say honey bunches.” 

“Is that not a cereal?” 


“That’s it.” You muttered, turning on your heel and was just about to go home. You couldn’t do this anymore, when you saw one of the soggy lamp shades grab a kid and start heading towards the door. ‘My baby!’ the mother cried but the two idiots in love were too far up each other’s asses to hear that. “For the love of God. All I want is my bed.” You groaned out, breaking away from the wall you were previously banging your head against, and picking up the pace when the guy started making a run for the window. The cops outside wouldn’t shoot him if he had a kid, the guy was smart. Or at least… Had an average I.Q. Which was a lot more you could say for the other ones. 

Since you made no such deal to Friendly Neighbourhood Boring McFucker not to unalive someone, you took one of your blades and was about to throw it when you heard the kid crying. 

“Fuck.” You muttered under your breath, and just caught up to the guy and knocked him out from behind with the butt of the blade. Shoving him to the ground before he could fall on the kid. 

The poor child screamed and immediately ran into your arms, the only thing he found safe at the moment, and you could do nothing else but hold the sobbing kid as you carried him back to his mother and blindly threw the dagger behind you. If you hit the guy, you hit the guy. If you didn’t, you didn’t. Either way you had one objective. 

“Why do you have a kid in your arms? Have you been hiding something from me?” Deadpool popped out of nowhere. 

“For the love of..” 


You were all up on a rooftop now, Deadpool having bought everyone tacos. Actually bought them too, because Spidey- Boy was here. The taco tasted funny to you, but that might only be the legitimacy. 

“You did good work today, Deadpool.” Spider-Man complimented, his mask rolled up to his nose so he could stuff tacos down his throat easier. “You surprised me.” 

“I surprised me too.” Deadpool nodded sagely, hiding his skin up to his nose with shoving tacos down his throat. 

“I wouldn’t hate working with you again, if you ever stop back in town.” Spider-Man offered. 

Deadpool paused, but still held a taco up to his face. “I don’t think I’m going to leave anytime soon now.” He commented. “The party’s just started right?” He offered hesitantly, and Peter grinned. 

“Yeah, it’s just begun.” He agreed. 

“You guys are so cute I’m going to puke. I’m going home.” You muttered, dropping your unfinished taco off the roof and hopped onto the fire escape. 

You weren’t going to survive them not figuring out whatever the hell this was soon. 


bdykenergy  asked:

hey mom! i know you have a lot of prompts so you don't even need to respond but i was wondering if you would include a badass black lesbian in a fic? like maybe an 18 year old girl that is recruited for the DEO and meets Alex and then Alex and Maggie become her mentors or something. i don't really see myself represented like anywhere so it would mean a lot! but honestly you don't have to.

Okay so first off, the two main characters in my novel are badass black lesbians, so if and when that gets published – life goals, I’m in the process of sending it out to agents… – I’m just saying….

Maggie notices her first.

She always seems to be on the edge of this week’s crime scenes, always seems to be there just before the NCPD Science Division rolls up. She notices, and she takes note.

But she doesn’t say anything, not yet. Not until one of the other guys on the team notices, and that’s when Maggie jumps into action.

Because when he notices, he assumes she’s had something to do with the spate of Cadmus attacks. Of course he assumes: the girl has gorgeous, natural hair, and perfect, dark brown skin under her denim jacket, her tall black boots. Of course he assumes she has something to do with the attacks.

Maggie grits her teeth, and Maggie tells him in no uncertain terms what she will do to him if he finishes the sentence accusing a young girl of being involved in brutal attacks just because she’s Black.

Because Maggie knows – she just knows, knows from the way this girl’s eyes flit carefully over the smoking streets, knows from the way the girl shields the eyes of a passing littler kid from seeing the bodies strewn on the street, knows from the way the girl watches the cops, counts the cars and notes their deployment, not for plotting, but for her protection – that the girl has nothing to do with the attacks.

“Hey kid,” Maggie calls, keeping her voice the way it sounds when she’s off duty as best as she can.

The girl stiffens and her legs twitch like she wants to bolt. Maggie holds up her hands in surrender. “Hey, it’s okay. My name’s Maggie.”

But the girl is staring at her badge.

“Yeah, I’m NCPD. But that’s not why I’m talking to you. I keep seeing you around this week. Always around the Cadmus attacks.” The girl says nothing, but she watches Maggie closely, and Maggie keeps her hands raised. Keeps her hands far away from her gun.

“They hurt someone you love, didn’t they? That why you keep coming around? Investigate yourself because who the hell can trust the cops to care, right?”

The girl narrows her eyes and Maggie smiles. “I’m off shift soon as I sign some paperwork – why don’t I take you to lunch and we can exchange what we know, see if we make any progress together?”

The girl looks for a moment like she might run, but maybe it’s something in Maggie’s eyes, or maybe it’s the way her hands are still raised in surrender, but the girl nods, and Maggie grins softly. “Wait right here.”

She doesn’t share any classified intel, but she gives what she can and she learns a lot. The girl’s best friend had disappeared in the Cadmus attack on the bus station last week, and she’d uncovered quite a few strands of evidence that Maggie’s colleagues had failed to turn up.

But that’s not all that Maggie learns. She learns that the girl’s name is Yve, that she’s eighteen. That she’s graduating high school in a few weeks, that she wants to be a bioengineer more than anything. That she’s got a quick sense of humor, and that she’s got a raging crush on one of the girls in her class. That she wants more than anything to put her skills to use to put down Cadmus, but she doesn’t want to be a cop, and she doesn’t know where else to try.

“Detective,” Yve interrupts herself halfway through the milkshake Maggie insisted on buying her. Her body is stiff, suddenly, and her eyes are fixed keenly on something over Maggie’s shoulder. “Get down.”

She says it calm and she says it low, and Maggie ducks just in time.

A laser that looks and sounds disturbingly like the one Cyberborg Superman shot her with explodes the old juke box behind their booth, and Maggie reaches under the table to grab Yve’s hands.

“You good?”

Yve nods. “You stay down here, you understand me? No heroics.”

Screams and the sounds of people running out fill the diner, and more shots land just above the table.

She shoots a text off to Alex – ping my phone NOW – and draws her gun.

“Stay put,” she whispers to Yve again, harshly, and she kneels back up on the booth, in an instant finding her targets and firing.

She hits one Cadmus lackey, and he hesitates but doesn’t fall. She fires again, again, again, ducks to reload, jumps over the booth and slams her elbow into the side of man’s head who thought he could surprise her from behind.

He curses and he sneers, and she gets two shots off, and they’re ineffective and she does the only thing she can – she keeps shooting, both her guns out, shooting one across the diner and one right in front of her, backing away from the booth she was just buying a kid a milkshake in, drawing Cadmus fire away from Yve.

The backs of her knees slam into a wall in a moment, and finally the Cadmus soldier at the far end of the restaurant can’t take any more bullets, and he falls.

The one right in front of her, though, with the pale skin and the blonde hair and the sneer? He’s closing his hands around her throat.

And then he’s collapsing and Maggie is gasping for breath and she’s looking across the room at her girlfriend, weapon drawn but eyebrows raised. She didn’t fire a shot. She hadn’t had to.

Because Yve is standing over the man who’d been hurting Maggie, her jaw set and her knuckles tight around a frying pan.

Maggie gapes at her, and she shrugs with a grin. “I work out. You okay?”

Maggie accepts Alex’s embrace as she rubs her own neck and tilts her head. “Hey Yve. Remember what you were saying about wanting to fight Cadmus, do the whole saving the world thing?” She glances at Alex, and she smiles.

“Let’s clean up and finish that lunch. My girlfriend and I can tell you all about a little organization called the DEO.”

“The hell is this place, Detective?”

It’s a week later and Maggie’s done her arguing with J’onn, and J’onn’s done his begrudging admiration of Alex’s girl’s judgment, and J’onn’s granted the necessary clearances.

“Told you it was like a James Bond spy hideout,” Maggie nudges Yve in the shoulder, and Alex snorts and beams at her girlfriend openly.

“Welcome to the DEO,” Alex spreads her hands back, spinning around as she walks the corridor as agents nod at Yve formally, respectfully.

“You’ll spend the next five months in training, twelve hours a day. Physical, mental, you name it. And on the side, you can work with me and with Agent Schott – and Detective Sawyer – to come up with a way to find your friend. And we will find him, Yve.”

Yve’s eyes are wide and her full lips are open and she’s staring all around. “Twelve hours a day, and work on the side?” She grins and flips up the collar of her denim jacket. “I can do that. But uh – what’s the training?”

“To see when you can beat me,” Alex deadpans, and J’onn catches Maggie’s eye behind Yve’s back and grins.

“Alright, Agent Danvers. Beat you? I took out that Cadmus ass with a flipping frying pan from a diner kitchen.”

“Yeah, after I loaded him through with bullets!”

“Still, Detective. Beating your girlfriend? Sorry, but uh… I’ll get there. When do we start?”

Alex grins and leads her to the green room.

“Right now.”