I love when he just lays down on the papers lol

A-Z NSFW: Chanyeol

Originally posted by porkdo-bi

Disclaimer: I couldn’t find the original poster this came from, but I got this from philanddanxreader, I didn’t come up with this.

A = Aftercare 
If seeing Chan with the twins on RoS didn’t tell you how attentive and loving he is, I don’t know what else to tell you. He has a fucking check list to run through after sex is over to make sure you’re okay, if you’re satisfied, he’ll wipe you down or help you into the bath/shower and help clean you up, before returning to bed for a movie, cuddles, and a nap.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) 
Does it count if his favorite body part is his entire body? The man is twice the size of an average human in every way; his height is out of this world and his hands are like baseball mitts. With height, comes the fun of being able to tower over you, and basically cover you with himself, and have that good ol’ skin on skin contact, and surround you with his body. His favorite body part on you, however, are your hips. He likes how his large hands look in comparison to your body, how he can control your pace when you top, and how he can pin you down and have you at his mercy.

C = Cum 
Okay listen…Chan is the loudest when he cums, if y’all thought his deep rapper voice was heard during the sex, god forbid anyone’s around when he gets release. He’s tip toes into the mentality of a true dom a bit sometimes, not a lot, so more often that not he ends up releasing on your thighs or tummy, sort of a mark that you’re hisas if the 143 hickies don’t prove that

D = Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs) 
Being the sneaky little shit he is, after one night you’d stayed over, and he woke up alone, he forgot you were in the dorm. The shower was running, so he obviously figured it was one of his members and when to pick the lock so he can pee and get started in the day. But of course, it wasn’t one of the boys, just your naked self showering peacefully. This being before you’d started being intimate, he just stood there and stared for a good minute before he silently freaked out, left, and never told you about it. Oops?

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)
Chan had a GF when he was younger, the little fucking about pissed himself laughing when D.O. was swinging that balloon thing and suddenly it looked like a dick, but when he had the gf, they were pretty young so I doubt anything happened. That being said, he’s a dirty minded boy with internet, so I’m sure he’s aware of what to do and what everything is.

F = Favorite position
Unless you’re a goddamn giant, height differences are going to be slightly an issue, not much, just a bit. Chan’s favorite position is him sitting against the back of the bed, and letting you have your fun while riding him. That way, you’re on the same level, and he may or may not be a slight sub so you topping really makes his day.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)
Chan doesn’t have a serious bone in his body, do you really think he’ll be anything but a ball of embarrassing goofiness while his bone is in you?

H = Hair (How well groomed are they)
We’ve seen his tummy/abssoft tummy!chan for the winquite a bit, and we’ve definitely seen the happy trail, so he’s no where close to bare(who shaves/waxes their crotch and keeps a happy trail?), but he’s a pretty clean boy, with how much he dyes his hair, I’m sure he’s in the shower a lot, keeping the hair up and clean and whatever, I imagine while he’s there he manscapes.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)
I think Chan is one of the most romantic members in EXO. I can’t remember what it was, but I think he was filling a jar with paper stars or something of the likes for his girlfriend when he was younger before they broke up, and he kept the jar. He brought flowers for his co-star on the movie he did in China as an apology for the language barrier, he’s just the sweetest boy ever, I can’t imagine that not carrying over into your relationship/sex life. He’s the boy that thinks movie romance is how it is in real life, he decks the room out in scented candles, mood lighting, it gets a bit weird when he plays some of his own music…but it’s Chan so we’ll let that slide.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation)
Chan’s the master of picking locks and getting in bathrooms with other members, so I doubt he’s worried about anyone walking in. The doors locked, he’s safe. Not that it matters, because the boy can’t touch his dick silently, it sounds like a freaking lion is loose in the house, every one knows Chanyeol. I feel like he’s a shower masturbater, like he’s in their washing his hair, cleaning, all that good stuff, and oops I’m rubbing my dick…might as well go the whole nine yards kind of dude.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)
Don’t mistake his love for you riding him as him being submissive, no no no. Even when you top, majority of the time his hands are guiding and controlling your movement, he’s mostly the dom, of course though, there will be times he lets you have control but on the norm, he’s the boss. Chan’s not a daddy kink guy, he’s more of a yes sir, kind of kink man. 

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)
The bed is the easiest place to do it, and honestly Chan’s kinda lazy lol. It’s just more comfortable, easier to handle(no risk of anyone getting dropped or hurt) and when it’s over he can just cuddle you into his chest and go to sleep. 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)
He’s a begging lover, he love love loves when you beg for him. And honestly, he’s a sucker for you whining to blow off getting dinner or going to the movies, and stay home with you and have your own fun together.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Maybe this was just because you’re a little shit to him, but he now, refuses to allow you to handcuff him. Shit went down when he let you take control one night, and handcuffed him to the bed, aaaaand you lost the key for a good two hours while he’s just trapped on the bed butt ass naked. Never again.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)
Chan’s rapper tongue is no joke, aside from the fact that boy never stops talking, his tongue was designed by the gods for going down on you, especially since he’s too tired to just pound your brains out, he often spends a good time going down on you to give you the most pleasure he can give you. As for you giving oral to him, he certainly isn’t going to pass up being able to see you on your knees, eyes looking up to him, and your mouth open, obedient as always.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)
Chan’s height kind of stifles his full potential, he’s somewhat slow but not unbearably slow, you know? He’s pretty rough though, and very thorough with his love making, you’re never left unsatisfied, that’s for sure.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)
Over your relationship, you could count the amount of quickies you’ve had with Chan on one hand, they’re a very rare occurrence. He likes being able to lay with you and love you to the best of his abilities, and a quickie means all the fun gets cut out because it’s…quick…Chan’s not a fan of them at all.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
After an incident with dropping you during some good ol’ fashion wall sex, he’s hyper aware of how easy it is to get hurteven though you insisted you werent hurthe’s pretty conscious of the risks of different positions and places, so he’s really hesitant to try new things. He might need a bit of convincing to help him comply, but still, risks are far and few in between, he just doesn’t want you hurt.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)
He gets winded easily, but that’s expected from a member of the royalty that is EXO, he’s working out all the time, practicing all the time, he’s pretty tired when he stumbles through the door, so one round is probably all he can muster up without a good four hour nap in between the next round. But that being said, he’s not tapping out until he knows you’re completely satisfied, if it takes minutes or a hour to get you all set, he’s down for the ride.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
The only toy-ish thing Chan owns is handcuffs. He’s not very big on toys, he’s the ‘i’m the best toy you have!’ kind of dude, you know? The only reason he delves into handcuffs is so he can work hands on when you’re being…squirmy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
He’s not much of a tease, realistically he doesn’t have time to stretch it out, he either needs to be sleeping or flying across the world. Not that if he had time or not matters, he likes you two becoming one, he’s not one to mess around with teasing either you or himself.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)
Chan has a loud mouth at any given time, he’s a very extra boy, so that definitely carries with him to the bedroom. Top that with his impossibly deep voice, at the very least you can hear the deep tone vibrating through the walls, but I’m willing to bet my leg the whole neighborhood will hear him cursing, grunting, and moaning for you. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)
He’s 100% dropped you by accident. You didn’t get hurt, thankfully, but it did end up with Chanyeol apologizing over and over and you just laying on the ground, laughing at how much of a flop you two are. That’s the danger of wall sex with a giant human, isn’t it?

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)
Okay…okay…We have seen that boy’s dick so many fucking times, with how much taller he is than me, and that fucking thing, it’s got to be the size of my fucking forearm, I’m not joking vv

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
I don’t think Chan has a very high sex drive, he doesn’t pop random boners and humps your leg like a dog, no worries about that. Sex drive aside, he’s always yearning for you, he’s kind of a clingy puppy, he never turns down the idea or random thought to have a dance under the sheets.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Listen….this mofo actually crawled into a suitcase and went to sleep ?? He gets winded easily, I imagine he falls asleep fairly quick afterwards, but that’s all good, he’s worked you out so much you’re barely awake too. Just take a nap with him, y’all need it.

veritatem inquirendam [seek the truth] (frank castle)

(gif source)

(original request: AU in which Frank is younger, and he and reader are college students. There’s a heated debate in class and everyone disagrees with Frank except the reader. After that, Frank starts paying more attention to the reader and hanging out with her after class, until he realizes he’s falling in love but she has no idea he is until her best friend tells her.)

(this is terrible i LOVE college frank i love this soft soft boy. what a nerd. i hate him. no warnings on this one except mentions of food and some sexism early in the story!!!)

(tagslist: @doct0rstrange, @caryled, @kurtwxgners, @atari-writes ! if i’ve forgotten you or you wanna be added to the tagslist, just send me a message!!! <3)


The professor is wrong. She knows it, but she can’t say it. You can’t say “you’re fucking wrong” in front of a classroom of fourty kids. Instead of speaking her mind, she bites her tongue and clicks the cap of her pen up and down, up and down, trying to tune out the professor’s voice.

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anonymous asked:

What are your thoughts on private vs public adoption agencies? I've been looking for jobs and have been thinking about working in adoption. Private agencies pay better obviously lol

(This is going to be my LEAST popular post) When I first started actually looking into adoption I was looking at all the wrong places. I was looking at adoption agencies, mainly private ones. I was reading stores about how families that had adopted babies or children, how happy and wonderful their lives were to have children because they were infertile or just because they felt called to adopt. I had heard all these wonderful stories from adopted children, how much they loved their parents who adopted them and how grateful they were to have families. It seemed like the perfect, most pure and good thing to do was adopt, especially as a prolife person, some unwanted baby who had escaped the possibility of abortion by people like me who wanted that baby.

A couple years ago I was scrolling on Facebook in my favorite Facebook group, a Catholic Homeschooling group. It was such a good place to go for comfort and prayers, from the daily struggle of being a Catholic Mother and Wife. I felt the urge to pray for some of these women who I considered my friends, and I came across a photo of a beautiful newborn baby with beautiful black skin and thick black hair over his little head, laying in the hospital bed just so tiny. “PRAYER REQUEST” it read. The first few sentences was about the babies health problems, as he was a few weeks premature, but the writer assured us that he would make it, being the strong little guy he is. She gave us a little background, how badly she had been wanting this baby for so long, she had children herself, but had always felt called to adopt. “Over 30,000” she began to explain, she spent on adoption fees and hospital costs! On and on she went. Then came the real prayer request. The biological mother and father wanted to keep the baby. After all this money she spent, after months of preparing the nursery, “he’s already mine” she yelled into the screen and into the many hearts of mothers reading who gasped at the idea of someone tearing their infant from their arms! The post went on about the biological mother and father, who clearly were “unfit” do to their age and financial instability.

“They aren’t able to take care of the baby, the world doesn’t need more thugs and drug addicts, the baby is already yours I will pray immediately that the laws are in your favor have faith!!!” That was the general voice of the over 300 women in the comments. Every single one of them busted out their rosaries and prayed with their whole hearts that this baby would be delivered into the arms of the adopted mother who so clearly loved this baby more than the biological parents, after all, she was the one that paid the hospital fees, the adoption costs, “Tell her she will have to pay back all the fees! That will make her change her mind! She just wants to use the baby to live off the government!!!” More and more similar comments came in.

I sat down myself, saddened by the situation and started to pray. At first I also began to pray that the adopted mother would win the child, but something didn’t feel right.

At what point does someone have the right to take an infant from the arms of their mother? After they have paid 30,000 dollars? After they have had the lawyers for their private adoption agency protect the adopted mother by packet of papers with laws and signatures? After finding out that the biological mother was a poor scared young woman? Who deserves their own child then? By most those terms certainly not me.

For a while I thought this situation was rare. I thought generally most women who gave up their infants were happy, or even grateful their children were adopted by warm wealthy families. I was wrong.

I started researching birth mothers, I listened to their stories, their stories of immense regret, loss, pain that only a woman who’s infant was living but not in her arms could feel. As a mother myself, I can’t even fathom the pain. I mean that from the very moment I hold my child, the bond is something you simply cannot understand unless you are a mother yourself.

See, in government ran agencies there are no lawyers. The primary concern is the best interest of the child, which professionals, psychologists, even our Catholic theology all agree over and over the best interest of the child is it’s biological parents, second choice being other blood relatives. I won’t go into detail on this, you’re welcome to research yourself.

If it was up to me, private adoption agencies would be illegal. That’s right. Illegal. In order for their doors to stay open, they need to make money. Their best interest is NOT for the child, although they may tell themselves that they are doing God’s work by “rescuing” the infant from the arms of a poor teen mom and into the arms of wealthy infertile parents. The fact is, the concern is not for the infant, the mother, or anyone. It’s for the paying customer, and the financial gain for the doors to stay wide open. Most of them with the loving intention of saving babies from abortion, completing families with infertile parents. Women (birth mothers) come to these agencies scared out of their minds, they don’t want an abortion, and they honestly believe (thanks to society) that an unwed mother, a teen, a poor woman, is undeserving of her own child. They go to these agencies and are are coerced. Lawyers work for these companies and are paid big money to work on behalf of the adoption company and the client-the adoption parents. The birth mother has absolutely zero protection herself. These businesses profit by taking children from the wombs scared hopeless young birthmothers and into the arms of paying customers. There is no turning back, once the money is paid, the baby is no longer belongs to the birth mother. At this point she is reduced to as the prochoice people say “an incubator”. We can deny it all you want, but in this business, is she anything else?

Did you know that government agencies almost never have infants available up for adoption? Do you know why? Because they aren’t making any profit adopting children out. They are working for the best interest of the birth parents and the child. Mothers are directed to help, and get the help they need to keep their children, or a biological family member is able to care for the child, because that’s the best interest of the child. The mother is also legally able to have her child returned to her, as long as she is not an addict, or has ever been charged with child abuse. In private adoption, this is absolutely never an option, unless of course the lawyers didn’t cover the company and the adoption parents well enough.

Slowly I began to uncover the real face of most infant-relinquishing adoptions, children desperate to know who they really are, forbidden by laws or their adopted parents to find the mother and father that they were created by to be loved and cared for them. Forbidden to have relationships with their birth parents. Then you see the birth mothers, who morn the loss of their child who’s still alive for the rest of their lives, shamed, guilty, hopeless. Look up their blogs. Read their stories, face their pain.

The worst part is, because this has a lot to do with religious, particularly Christian and prolife groups, we turn our cheeks and close our eyes to the pain. We tell ourselves that it isn’t our problem and we’ve done our part. I don’t believe that, and I’ll stand on whatever side against what is the best interest of both the mother/father and the child. I’ll never choose one or the other. And never on the side of profit, especially profit off human beings.

There was a story my priest told me about the importance in our Catholic faith about the relationship between a mother and child, being as were Catholics and we don’t dismiss the importance of Mary in the life of Christ like other Christians might. He said in Yakima there were many Latino immigrants who were there illegally, and were being deported. The problem is, the children they had, one in particular only days old, were legal citizens of the United States. In situations like this the children are actually forced to remain in the Untied States as citizens. The Bishop of Yakima, stepped in, firmly planted in the truth that a child should never be separated for a mother. The children were then able to be processed, released, and returned to the parents.

If we look at Mother Mary, a teen, unmarried (betrothed, but unmarried), she would probably be deemed an “unfit” mother by our society. We gasp in horror when prochoice people say heinous things about Mary aborting Christ, but we would support Christ being raised by any other woman than the Mother of Christ?

Why are we okay with signs at clinics where scared women go to have abortions that read, “don’t kill your baby we want it!” Why are we so obsessed with “choose adoption!!!”

Where is the rally for the “alternative” true and holy nature of keeping a mother with her children? Why is adoption seen as the solution to abortion? There are programs in place to help these women, in our country how is it possible that a woman is so scared she feels the need to abort or give away for her child? How is this still a normal mentality? Because both prolife and prochoice people feed the fear. Neither of us apparently has any faith or respect for the nature of human beings. We have those who are prochoice who stand solely on the side of the mother, and those who are prolife who stand solely on the side of the baby, but who protects the family? Isn’t that the divine nature, the most important structure of our entire society? Unfortunately even pregnancy crisis centers are required to educate mothers who have already chosen to keep and raise their baby, on the topic of adoption and how much better it is for their baby, before giving any sort of services.

So, is there a need for adoption? Yes there is. There is a need for adoption because although God has designed us to be raised by our mother and father there are still evil and sin in this world. Sin that abuses children, causes parents to become sick with addictions, and creating broken family and children who have not a single blood family member to turn too. This is where the need is, not in the wombs of scared women or young mothers.

Now, we can tell ourselves, as prolife or proadoption people, that “we’ve never done that!!” Or “I’ve never strictly advocated for a woman to adopt without pointing her to help as well!” But honestly that isn’t good enough to wash our hands free of guilt. If we aren’t actively seeking and speaking out about stuff like this, we feed the same mentality that feeds abortion. That an unwed, poor, scared, mother is unworthy of her own child. I see hundreds of prolife people state that “we need less adoption laws to make adoption easier!!” Easier for who? Adopted parents? Through the state adoption IS easy, for parents who are qualified based on the best interest for the child. It’s also little to no COST. Yep. You heard that right. What’s easier than that?

Since I’m not a birth parent, I would like if we could all actually read what the birth parents have to say about adoption.

Here’s a pamphlet created by birth parents on how adoption has affected them. In order for a woman to properly and willfully choose adoption as a choice for her, she needs to know these facts, she needs to hear the good and the bad in order to make an informed decision. I beg all people especially prolife people, to read the pamphlet and inform yourselves please! If we want to really protect woman and children we need to protect the family!

(Sorry for any grammar, spelling mistakes)

http://www.cubirthparents.org/docs/39%20What%20You%20Should%20Know%20if%20Youre%20Considering%20Adoption.pdf

The Trampoline

Summary: Dan’s very gay and very in love with Phil, who has always been 100% straight. Also, there’s a trampoline.

Word Count: 5.3k

Genre: smut

TW: underage drinking

CHECK OUT THIS AMAZING AS FUCK ART @giuliandsexydoghat​ MADE FOR THIS!!!!

read on ao3

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@kaylareigns23 said: Can I get an imagine where the reader is dating Jeff and it’s the night of Jessica’s party and she’s in the car with him when he crashes and they both die or not (your choice) & like they’re on the other side together. Sorry for bothering lol I just really love your writing xoxo

Originally posted by words-plus-wisdom

Jeff X Reader

“Babe. The party is in need of sustenance. Lets go on a beer run.”

Your conversation with your friends trails off as you turn towards the sound of Jeff’s voice, raising an eyebrow at his glassy eyes and lazy smile. “What do you mean we? How much have you had to drink?”

He scoffs. “Two beers two hours ago.” Your gaze darts down to the red solo cup in his hand and he rolls his eyes with a laugh. “It’s Coke. Chill out.”

“Uh huh. Hand over the keys, Sparky. Unlike you, I haven’t had an ounce of alcohol. I’ll drive and you grab the beer since you’re the one with the ID.”

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Camping

Request: Hi Tori, I don’t really know how are you right now but I hope you’re good and I hope everything is okay. I really love your writing and your account and I just hope, if you still want to do this of course, that you’ll be back soon. Also I just thought of a cute idea. So maybe the whole team went on a camping trip somewhere and they all knew that Bucky and the reader have feelings for each other so they decided to put them in one tent? And just a lot of fluff? I hope everything’s okay. Love ya!

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warning: f l u f f

A/N: There’s this guy that likes me but I don’t like him in that way and I told him that I only like him as a friend but he keeps sending me cute texts and shit and it makes me really uncomfortable bc I just wanna be his friend


You couldn’t believe it. Staring at Wanda and Natasha, you give them a hard look.

“Can I talk to you two alone?” you say.

Bucky licks his lips. “Yeah, I need to talk to you guys too.” he gestures over to the guys.

You guide Wanda and Nat away from the boys and once you were at a decent distance you spun around, glaring at your friends. “What the fuck were you guys thinking?”

“Calm down, Y/N.” Nat sighed dramatically.

“Yeah, it’s not that big of a deal.” Wanda shrugged.

You scoff. “Not that big of a deal? You’re joking right?”

“We were tired of you two constantly flirting with each other around the tower so we took matters into our own hands.” Nat explained and you roll your eyes.

“We did not flirt.”

Wanda lets out a laugh. “Yeah you guys did. So much to the point where I wanted to bang my head against the wall.”

“Stop being so dramatic.” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“It’s only for like, three days Y/N, it’s not like you’re gonna move in with the guy.” Nat rolled her eyes and you glare at her.


“Are you guys insane!?” Bucky shouted once you were far enough.

“We didn’t do anything wrong.” Sam smirked and Bucky was so close to punching the smug son of a bitch.

“Oh yeah? How ‘bout putting me in a tent with Y/N!” he fumed.

“Oh, did we - did we do that?” Tony placed his hand over his chest and pouted. “We had no idea.”

Bucky glared at him.

“Bucky listen,” Steve started. “Natasha and Wanda are sharing a tent and me and Tony are.”

“Well what about Sam? He gets a whole tent to himself?” the super soldier huffed.

“I got this sleeping disorder called ‘I don’t want to share a tent with Bucky Barnes’. It’s hard to sleep sometimes.” Sam shrugged and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Well why doesn’t Tony share a tent with Sam and I can bunk with you, Steve? Hell, I’ll even take Tony!”

Sam put on a fake frown. “Mmm, nope. I have this other disorder called ‘I’m a lone wolf and I don’t share a tent with anyone’. It’s pretty tragic.”

Bucky groaned.

“Sorry Buck, looks like you’re just gonna have to share a tent with Y/N.” Steve says, a smirk playing on his lips.

Tony perked up. “Oh my god, you like her! I almost forgot that! Remember guys, Bucky likes Y/N.”

Bucky knew damn well what these idiots were up to.

“Oh yeah!” Sam exclaimed.

“How could I forget such a thing.” Steve shook his head.

“What a coincidence that you two will be sleeping next to each other for three days.” Tony smiled.

Bucky glared. “You guys are assholes, you know that?”

Tony shrugged with a smile on his lips. “It’s in my genes.”

Sam, Tony and Steve look over Bucky’s shoulder, seeing that you and the girls were walking back. Sam pats the brunette on the back. “Have fun dude.” and with that, they left.

“Hey, the three of us are gonna go out and get some wood for the fire tonight.” Steve spoke towards you and the girls.

“I’ll come!” Bucky volunteered.

“No need, we’ve got this under control.” Steve smiled at his friend.

Natasha and Wanda looked at you then at Bucky before rushing over to the guys. “We’ll come with you.”

“For uh.. Moral support.” Wanda added.

“Sounds good to me.” Steve smiled. “Buck, you and Y/N stay here and watch over our camp. We’ll be back soon.”

There was no point in arguing with Steve so the two of you watched them walk off up until you couldn’t see them anymore. They had planned this all along.

There was no doubt that you and Bucky had feelings for each other and the whole team could see that. You both made it quite obvious. But over time they got tired of the flirting back and forth and since neither of you were going to tell the other how you feel, they decided that they’d take matters into their own hands and help you guys. Hence why you two are sharing a tent.

“So..” Bucky dragged the word out as he turned to you. “How’ve you been?”

He mentally slapped himself for asking such a stupid question.

“Good, good.” you nod. “You?”

“Good.” he says. There was a brief moment of silence before he turned to you. “They set this up, didn’t they?”

“No doubt.”


It had become dark quick and all of you were gathered around the campfire, laughing, talking, telling stories - it was great. But, soon that all came to an end when everyone decided to go to sleep.

“We’re going to the lake tomorrow so everyone needs to get their beauty sleep.” Tony announced then gave both you and Bucky a look. “And no fooling around. We can hear everything.”

You and Bucky blush while the others laugh. Bucky picks up a stick and throws it at Tony, muttering something under his breath about him being a dick. After watching the fire go out, everyone went to their tents and upon entering yours, you spot an air mattress blown up in the middle of it.

“Did you do this?” you ask, turning to face Bucky.

“Yeah, thought I’d put it in here so that our backs won’t hurt tomorrow from sleeping on the hard ground.” he shrugged, zipping up the tent.

“Oh thank god.” you breathe. “You’re a life saver.”

Bucky laughed and plopped down on the air mattress.

“Do the others have one too?” you inquired.

“No - Well Sam does. We only brought two and we all had to rock, paper, scissor it to see who would get them. Sam and I won.”  he explained. You nod and dig through your bag, searching for some comfortable yet warm pajamas. Even though it was midway through summer, it was pretty cold during the night. After finding some sweats and scolding yourself for not bringing a long sleeve, you turn to Bucky.

“Could you..” you trail off and he nods, covering his eyes. Once you were done changing you tell him it’s okay to look before laying down next to him, quickly covering yourself to get warm.

You watch Bucky stand up and remove his shirt all while looking at him like he’s gone crazy. “What are you doing?”

He looks up at you. “Getting undressed to go to sleep?” he answers as a question.

“Aren’t you freezing?” you curl up in a ball, bringing the blankets closer to you.

Bucky laughs. “I never get cold, doll. I was injected with the serum, remember? They didn’t call me The Winter Soldier for nothin’.”

He chuckled at his own lame joke and you playfully roll your eyes. His hands then go down to the button of his jeans and he looks at you. “Are you okay with me sleeping in my boxers? Cause if not I can find some sweats to wear.”

You wave your hand. “Nah, it’s cool.”

Bucky smiles before pulling his pants down and tossing them towards his bag. He crawls into the blankets and gets comfortable before sighing.

“You know,” he starts off. “I hope this isn’t weird or anything - Us sharing a tent.”

You turn your head to him. “It’s not.”

“Good, cause for a second I thought-”

“I’m trying to sleep here.” Sam’s voice interrupted him and you almost forgot that everyone could hear you guys talking.

“Don’t try just do, lone wolf.” Bucky replied, Causing Tony and Steve to laugh.

After the laughter died down, it went silent and not long after soft snores could be heard from the others. You turn on your side, facing away from Bucky and trying to sleep but it was so damn cold. You hadn’t realized you were shivering until Bucky tapped you on the shoulder, causing you to turn around.

“Hey..” he whispered. “Did I wake you?”

“No.” you respond, your head almost all the way under the blankets. “I was still awake.”

“You were shivering - Are you cold?” he asked, his face illuminated by the light of the full moon outside.

“Yeah. Sorry if I woke you up.” you apologize.

“You didn’t.” he says. “Do you want to.. Um.. Do you want to - I have a lot of body heat so if you want to-”

You scoot closer to Bucky, laying your head on his chest and entwining your legs with his. He wasn’t kidding, he’s so warm. Bucky let out a sigh of relief and wrapped his arm around you, loving how close the two of you were before drifting off to sleep.

The next morning Bucky woke up to giggles. Opening his eyes, the first thing he sees was you laying on top of him, his arm lazily wrapped around your body. You must have shifted on top of him while sleeping. Smiling at how gorgeous you looked while sleeping, he almost forgot about the giggles until he heard it again. His eyes shot up at the entrance of the tent, noticing it was now open and everyone was standing there, gawking at the two of you.

A flash of a camera took Bucky by surprise and Tony smiled. “These are getting printed out and going on the fridge.”

“What the hell?” Bucky groaned, glaring at everyone.

“This is so cute.” Wanda comments, Nat nodding her head in agreement.

“Shut up, you guys are gonna wake up-”

Bucky didn’t have time to finish because you had started to wake up.

“Good morning Sleeping Beauty.”  Sam chuckled. “Sleep well?”

You look at where you were laying and close your eyes. “Oh god I’m sorry Bucky, you were just so warm and I was so cold and-”

“It’s fine, doll.” he smiled, hand rubbing your back. While continuing his actions he shot everyone a glare. “Get out.”

They obliged and leave, closing up the tent and announcing that they’ll start on breakfast. You plop back down on Bucky, pulling the covers up and closing your eyes.

“Come on, doll. We have to get up.” Bucky laughed.

“Five more minutes.” you murmur.

Bucky smiled at you and hums. He was okay with five more minutes of you on him.


A/N: Didn’t know how to end this lol oops. Anyways I just had some bomb ass tacos. I love tacos. o k a y y y y y tell me what ya think! :)

Tags:

@your-puddin @heismyhunter @buchananbarnestrash @live-in-the-now10 @jcb2k16 @plumqueenbucky @thefandomplace @chocolatereignz @blueberry-pens @professionally-crazed @idk-something-amazing-i-guess @almondbuttercup @janetgenea @buckysmetallicstump @flowercrownsandmetallicarms @rvb-and-marvel-shit @ouatalways @winterboobaer @thyotakukimkim @hattnco @millaraysuyai @themercurialmadhatter @miss-jessi29 @snakesgoethe @helloitsgrc @welcometothecasmofsar @aboxinthestars @feelthemusicfuckwhatheyresaying @fandommaniacx @hatterripper31 @coffeeismylife28 @bunchofandoms @bobabucky @under-dah-sea @amrita31199 @sebstanthemanxo @mrs-brxghtside @erinvanlyssel @amistillmyself @buckyandsebsinbin @ballerinafairyprincess @spnhybrid @marvel-fanfiction @queen–valeskaxx

Will edit in the morninggggg

Stuck

 For the times when you just don’t know what the hell you’re doing. 

So this is short and pretty shitty but it’s how I have been feeling lately so I just let the words flow lol. Also I’m sorry I’m the worst because I am never here anymore… I will hopefully be returning soon at full speed ahead :)

My Masterlist


    You hummed, but it wasn’t with delight. It was an impatient hum– one that was full of frustration and annoyance. The hum tapered off into a sigh and you leaned back in your chair, pushing yourself away from the laptop that sat at your desk. Your eyes stung, face suddenly feeling hot and then there were tears building up. Angry ones that had no where to go except down your face. 

   This was the first time you had cried over this feeling– the first time you really let it get to you. The outburst surprised you, it was so sudden. Yes you were frustrated to your maximum, but that had been the case for a while now. As you silently and ashamedly let the tears fall, you decided that your body thought you had been holding back this angry cry for long enough. 

   Stuck was the only way that you could describe your state right now. Mentally, physically, emotionally you felt halted and stunted. What were you doing? You didn’t know– and for someone who needs control, this was keeping you up at night. 

Keep reading

Whiskey and Dope

“Happy dates a big boned girl, but cheats on her and tries to fix it once he sees her with Opie?”

Thanks for the request, @homicidalteenagedream !!

Btw, r/n = right now

~

~

~

It was another slow day today, you worked at a local clothing store for women and you hated every minute of it. The sizes never went above 8, and on rare occasions there was a shipment of size 10’s, but mostly during the holidays when the company wanted more sales. You were a bigger girl and working in a store than only sold to Victoria Secret sized model’s only made you more insecure, but Happy changed that feeling when he asked you to be his girlfriend a year ago. He made you feel as if you were the last California sunrise in his life, beautiful. You loved him with everything you had, even his smiley faces and his long stares. With you he was different, he talked, he laughed, he loved you with his all; and nothing was going to get in the way of that.

“Hey, Y/N, I’ll close tonight, you can leave early, just clock out,” your manager was sweet and usually every few weeks on Friday’s she’d let you leave early like tonight, “Oh, thanks, Malerie, enjoy your night!” She never had to remind you that you could leave early, you were already out the door. Getting into your car, you decided to go to the clubhouse to play some pool with Happy and Juice, and maybe stay the night in Hap’s dorm if the game proceeded without Juice. “Babe, I’m coming by r/n, Mal decided to close, save me a beer please ♥,” Hap always wanted you to text him when you got to work and out, at first you thought it was a little weird, but he explained it was so he knew you were okay and where you were at all times; it felt uncomfortable at first, but after being with Happy and the club, you realized it was important to let him know you’re safe, and that made both of you happy.

You noticed while pulling into the lot there was a party with all of the bikes and the barbeque burning. Parking your car at the end of the lot, you saw Tara walking towards your car, “Hey, Y/N,” she always greeted you with a warm smile, you both got along really well and got close super quick, “Hey, girl, have you seen Hap? He didn’t return my text,” it wasn’t like Hap to send a ‘K’ to your text or one of his other illiterate texts that sent question marks to your brain trying to decipher what he was telling you. “I saw him inside in the clubhouse a few minutes ago taking a few shots,” Tara wasn’t acting normal, she was fidgeting a bit and speaking faster. Looking over towards the garage, you saw the blinds were shut, but the lights were on. Normally Gemma constantly kept the blinds open to keep an eye on everyone and the garage to watch over her kingdom. But it was different.

Scanning your eyes over to the crowd, you saw all of the brothers with each other having a toast to more whiskey and dope, all but Happy. Your stomach dropped. Walking towards the office, Tara tried to stop you, “He’s not in there, Y/N, I saw him in the clubhouse,” she grabbed your arm, but you ripped it out of her grip and she sighed stopping in her tracks. Your footsteps stomped towards Gemma’s office. Grabbing the door, it was open, you hesitated, you hoped to God or whoever is up there that you’d find nothing or even Clay and Gemma getting it on. Grabbing the door handle in full, you turned the knob and slammed the door open.

Your stomach dropped as did the mouths of Happy and an ugly croweater under him. Your heart crumbled in your chest seeing Happy’s neck covered in hickeys. “Shit, Y/N,” Happy pulled himself away from the croweater while pulling his pants up, “Who the hell is that, baby?” She spoke wiping her mouth and her smeared lipstick. Not being able to speak your body froze with rage and tears. Immediately grabbing Gemma’s papers on the desk, you threw them at Happy and his bitch. “Fuck you, Happy, Fuck you and your slut,” you pointed your finger at her, “Fuck you, bitch, who are you calling a slut,” she stood up trying to intimidate you. Happy quickly got in between you both trying to talk to you, “Y/N, leave,” he spoke. “First of all, ho’, I will lay your ass out like your grandma’s panties on the laundry line, and second, fuck you, Happy, don’t ever speak to me again.” Walking away, Happy grabbed your arm, but again you snatched it out of his grip, “Don’t you ever put your fucking hands on me, Happy! I fucking hate you! We’re done!” It went silent on the lot, everyone was watching. You spit on the ground next to Happy and walked towards your car with tears streaming down your eyes. “What’s up, Y/N?” Juice asked with his dorky smile not having a clue what happened, “Fuck out of my way, apple juice.” Your tires screeched as you left the property to go home.

~~HAPPY’S POV~~

“Shit.”

“Hap! What the hell just happened?” Jax came over with Opie, I looked behind me towards the office which they followed as saw the croweater buttoning up her shirt. “Oh come on, man,” Jax scolded, “You pissed Y/N off big time, Hap,” Opie took a drink of his beer, “She’ll be alright, I’ll call her in the morning,” Jax and Opie looked towards each other and shrugged, “I don’t know, brother, Y/N isn’t the type to come crawling back to someone who fucked up with her,” my anger started building, “I guess it’s my problem then,” we both stared each other down, “I guess it is,” Opie stepped forward to me.

~~~~~TO BE CONTINUED~~~

I loved this one!! I thought this deserved two parts lol, I honestly was so mad writing this because I hate making Hap out to be an asshole :( But thank you for reading, and part 2 will be up soon!!

MASTERLIST

Reaction to You Screaming ‘Cause You Dropped Your Food. . .

Anonymous said: Are requests open? If so- could you do a exo reaction to you screaming cause you dropped your food? This is legit me lol. Thx

Reaction to You Screaming ‘Cause You Dropped Your Food…

A/N haaaa! this is funny. thanks for great request Anonie.

Kai Eonni ~


Suho…

The moment you scream, you would have given this poor boi a heart attack. He would rush into the room, ready to tend to any and all wounds you may have. However the moment he sees you on the floor, wiping up the splattered soup all over the floor he would sigh, placing a hand over his still pounding heart. “Ahhh, Jagi, I seriously thought you were injured.” He would laugh lightly, finding this situation ridiculous as he bent down with a paper towel in his hand, helping you clean up the mess.

Originally posted by lawlliets


D.O.…

You were walking towards the living room and almost made it when you somehow dropped the plate of cut fruit. Before the food and plate hit the floor a scream escaped your lips. D.O. would walk into the hallway, see the catastrophe that had taken place and without missing a step would immediately turn and return to your room where he was working. He wouldn’t be surprised by this occurrence, nor concerned for your reaction as this was a weekly habit of yours he grew accustomed to just ignore.

Originally posted by fydokyungsoo


Chanyeol…

The moment your scream left your lips, you had a frantic little puppy running your way ready to be you night in shining armor. When you come into sight, on the ground mourning your long gone cereal, he understood, but still wouldn’t be able to hold back his laughter. Sweet pupper Channie would then crouch next to you, stroking your back and offering comforting words. “It’s alright Jagi. How about I clean it up and get you some more cereal okay?”

Originally posted by chanys


Xiumin…

When your scream spread throughout your apartment and to where Xiumin was lounging on your couch, he would jump up, ready for action. You can be sure he was not expecting to see your spaghetti splattered on the floor and bottoms of your jeans. “Jagi…” He would sigh in defeat, running a hand through his hair. You had your man worried with your death-is-arriving scream, and here you are crying over splattered spaghetti. 

Originally posted by baozi1


Lay…

You scared the shit outta him the moment that scream left your mouth. After he gets over his initial shock, he’s racing as fast as his feet can carry him, leaps and bounds, to get to you. When he sees you are perfectly fine, he feels like a mother who found his baby after 20 ghastly minutes of searching. He would be slightly calmer after realizing it was just food you dropped, but would have sympathy for you, after all, you worked hard for that cake.

Originally posted by laygion


Chen…

You screamed, and that scared the light, the will to live and the last bit of energy he had for the day outta him. He would have no sympathy for you whatsoever. He’d call it a day. And you know he’s gunna be going to bed tight for having him worry for your life and where in reality,,, “Babe…? Are you screaming for the orange juice? No, no, it’s cool, it’s cool… Imma.. Imma just head to bed alright?”

Originally posted by exoxoolf


Kai…

He’d just laugh. He’d find it ridiculous, and then he’d also find his reaction to your scream in this circumstance even more ridiculous. He’d need to take a seat and collect himself before he proved to be any help to you. Tbh he’d get too much joy out of this.

Originally posted by princewangeun


Baekhyun…

He’d be another that would find this thoroughly amusing. This little shit wouldn’t lift a finger to help you. He’d dead ass stand there trying to cover up his strong need and desire to laugh at you. But we all know that wouldn’t last long, and he would break down into a fit of laughter. Wheezing and all. Assisted by the second little shit Oh Sehun

Originally posted by exo-milky-way


Luhan…

He’d be the most about it. Whipping his hair and everything. You not only had the audacity to scream about dropped food, but also to make him think you were getting murdered in your own kitchen. He’d be giving you the hardest time about making him run the few twelve feet from your living room to the kitchen.


Tao…

He wouldn’t be having it. NONE of it. That was his last straw that week. You had already used up all your chances to drop your food and scream about it. It’s over for the rest of the week and it’s only Wednesday.


Sehun…

He’d just be confused. You screamed for dropping pancakes? Why? He’d have been worried for you, but when he sees the reason for your screaming, he wouldn’t be able to comprehend why you were screaming., Sehun would be a lost Oh Sehun (not like that’s anything new)

Originally posted by sassyminghao


Kris…

He’d somehow find this cute. You being clumsy, and you loving your food enough to scream when you drop it. That would be cute to him. He’d be trying to hold back a smile when he sees you crouched down in defeat after dropping your bowl of ice cream. He’d be another that would find a little too much joy out of this.

forfutureglory  asked:

Mike and El (!!!) and 6 for the asks, please, I'm in dire need of more Mileven (but literally when am I not)

The first time he hugs her, it’s brief and chaste and she’s sobbing in his arms — as a matter of fact, it’s not really a hug so much as holding her up to keep her from falling; week kneed and blurry eyed she sags against his body for the shortest of moments, and then pulls back, because for whatever reason she fears breaking him, and he needs to see her — really see her, because Jesus Christ, she’s back. She’s not dead. And it’s not how he imagined it at all, the contact, but it’s enough. Because she’s real.

Their first real hug — warm, loving, desperate — comes later. They’re fourteen, and it’s late. Eleven is curled up in her fort alone, sketching the way Will’s been teaching her. That’s when Mike storms down into the basement. His feet slam against the rickety wood, which bends beneath his exaggerated weight. Within seconds he’s ripped off his coat, and plopped facedown into the couch.

Eleven leans forward, setting aside her papers, and stares at him. “Mike? Are you okay?”

He jumps, and rounds on her. “El! What are you—?”

“Nancy let me in,” Eleven explains, slipping out of the fort. She walks over to him, sits beside him, and takes his hand (in that moment, they both vaguely recall the day she killed the demogorgon, when she lay on the table in the science classroom, and he made her promises he couldn’t keep). “Mike?”

She’s pressing and she knows it, but she can’t help it. He’s on the verge of tears and she needs to know why. She can’t help if she doesn’t know why.

“It’s nothing,” he whispers, curling up into a ball and closing his eyes. “Just nothing.”

“Nothing doesn’t make you hurt,” she argues.

Mike is stubbornly silent, but El is patient. She waits, beginning to accept the fact that he just doesn’t want to tell her, or talk about it, when he speaks.

“I didn’t think you were here,” he confesses. “I didn’t know…”

He looks away, biting his lip, tears beginning to form in his eyes. “Lucas was getting on my case about something. It’s fine — I’ll get over it, I promise.”

He wants to cap it at that, and she knows it. El almost let’s him; he looks so pitiful laying there like that. She gently, gently runs a hand through his hair. The touch is so light it shouldn’t even be considered touch, but their eyes lock. It’s innocent, but it’s bordering on territory they’ve not crossed since November two years ago.

“Mike?”

“El,” he replies, with just a hint of deadpan. It’s in his nature, he can’t help it. He squeezes her hand, and then withdraws his own.

El purses her lips. She knows he’s leaving something out — probably the major source of his discomfort. If it were anyone else, she would let them be. She knows very well, painfully well, what it feels like to be trapped within yourself. But she knows that Mike will only keep it to himself, add it to the pile of pain in his chest, until it all explodes with the lightest feather weight.

She leans over him, determined. When Mike turns, they’re so close their noses touch. She thinks nothing of it, but for some reason his cheeks redden dramatically. “Please tell me?”

“I-I… El—” he breaks off, gathering a breath. “I just… Lucas wants to know when I’m gonna ask you out, okay? But you probably don’t even know what that means, though, do you?”

El sits back up, frowning in frustration at the limitations of her vocabulary. “No,” she admits, folding her arms over her chest. “What does it mean?”

“Go on a date,” Mike chokes out, averting his eyes.

El frowns. She knows what that means, at least. “Oh,” she whispers. “Wh-why would Lucas…?”

“He didn’t mean anything by it,” Mike insists. “He just knows how much I like you and—”

They both stop breathing for a whole minute. Eleven’s face burns. Two years ago, she wouldn’t have thought anything of this comment, but now, after countless conversations in regards to Steve, Jonathan, and Nancy (not to mention Max and Lucas), she knows very well that there are multiple ways to use the word ‘like’. And she knows it means more than friends.

“I’m sorry,” Mike says, quickly. He sits up. “I’m sorry — I don’t want to ruin anything, I want us to be friends, okay? Always. I’m sorry—”

“Mike,” she says. And then she tackles him; throws her arms around his neck and pulls him close. He draws in a sharp breath, surprised, and then he’s hugging her back. Hugging. She knows hugging. Joyce hugs her all of the time, Will does, too. Sometimes Hopper, even. But this is… more.

This is need. This is every moment spent not touching but staring instead all rolled into one. This is crushed lungs and fallen tears and pounding hearts. This is… this is an embrace.

“El,” says Mike, quiet, and still holding on. “Do you wanna go to the movies with me? On Saturday?”

“Yes, you dork!” She buries her face in the crook of his neck to hide her smile. “I do. Of course I do.”

anonymous asked:

May I request the chocobros and their S/o chillin out having fun on a beach? 😄 w some frank sinatra songs playin in the background or different songs w the same genre? Just carefree fluff w the boys on the beach :D who would chill in the sand and who would throw their s/o in the water LOL

Carefree fluff is the best kind of fluff, anon.

Writing this spurred this beach-lorn lust inside of me, and now I can’t shake the desire to go on vacation.🐳

As far as music goes, I’m positively elated to hear that you’re requesting some Sinatra! 

He’s honestly one of the first vocal jazz artists that got me into the genre itself, launching me into what now has become a love affair of big band, classic, and modern jazz alike.

He really was a class act, wasn’t he? ❊


NOCTIS✧

Song: “You Make Me Feel So Young” by Frank Sinatra

  • While the prince may not look it, he’s an aboslute natural stripped down in his colorful swim trunks at the beach
  • Being able to be outside basking in the glow of the sun alongside you, without the trouble of worry of daemons really puts him at ease
  • His somewhat hidden cheekiness will shine through, as he suddenly scoops you up in his arms and runs to the shoreline, you playfully writhing and squirming within his grasp, before he finally throws you into the water
  • The look of your shocked face will send him to his knees as he positively dies of laughter, mumbling apologies and words of affection, promising you that you couldn’t be any more adorable
  • He won’t even stop when you pull him in alongside you - only chuckling against your neck as he pulls you close and presses suple kisses to your jawline
  • All worries of PDA are out the window; Noct is on vacation, and nobody or nothing could take that blissful lack of care away from him

Keep reading

Derek Hale Story (8)

Hanging Out:

Originally posted by songsoftheheartless


Two days after your date with Derek You and everyone were at his loft. The supernatural beings were mostly training, which left You and Stiles. Even Lydia has been training to fight with Parrish.

You and stiles put on a movie and we’re talking, goofing off, and laughing. You and stiles were playing thumb wars. Of course you won.. a bunch of times.

“Ha I won again loser” you said to stiles laughing your ass off.

“I let you win, it’s what gentlemen do” stiles defended

“ so sure stilinski ” you chuckle at him.

“What now” you asked him.

“Another game” he pretty much shouts and adds on “ but this time I won’t let you won” he says.


You decide to play the hand game tic tac toe. You both put your hands together and start the game.

Both saying “ tic tac toe gimme an x gimme an o give me a three in a row, rock paper scissor” You picked paper as stiles picked rock. Well everyone knows paper covers rock.

“Yes” you yell with a huge smile on your pretty face.

Your yelling apparently caught some attention because Derek, Issac, and Jordan snapped their heads in your direction. You and stiles laughed giving them awkward smiles.

“Sorry” you both say at the same time.

“I can’t help it if I make beautiful girls scream” stiles says to you trying to be smooth and a little pervy while the boys are staring at you too.

Jordan chuckles at stiles ridiculous remark. Issac has no expression but feels a little awkward because you and his history. And Derek does an overly exaggerated eye roll and did not look so happy.

Originally posted by fuck-feelings-brah

You slap stiles on his arm as the boys focus back to training. You and stiles go back to playing your game.

“Alright now shut your eyes and no peeking” you told stiles. He does as told and you poke him with your middle finger.

“Okay now guess which finger i used” you said to stiles.

He opens his eyes and thinks for a moment.

“Hmm” was the sound coming from his mouth. Another moment goes by.

“ well which is it” you huff out.

Stiles eyes widen a bit in a joking manner just like you joked being annoyed with him taking forever to answer.

“Okay jeez, it was your ring finger” he finally answers.

“Nope, it was my middle finger” you say while putting up your middle finger looking like your flipping him off.

“Well that’s rude” stiles acts offended while lightly slapping your finger away.

“Now give me your arm” you say while grabbing stiles arm.

“I win you lose now you have a big bruise” you punch stiles arm with every word you spoke. When you did you last punch stiles overemphasized saying “ow”.

You and stiles stopped playing around while the others who were training stopped and all sat around relaxing. Derek came to the couch where you and stiles have been sitting the whole time being at the loft. Derek lightly pushed stiles away from you so he can sit beside you.

“Hey I was sitting there” stiles exclaimed

“Yeah” Derek says sounding unimpressed and annoyed. Derek turns to face you ignoring everyone else’s chatter.

“How are you” he asks with a genuine smile.

“I am fine thank you, and your self” you return asking

“I am good, glad I get to talk with you, sorry for being busy up until now” Derek replies apologetically

You let out a chuckle “no no it’s fine” you reassure him

“Your amazing” Derek says and smiles

“So I’ve been told” you sass back with a smirk plastered on your face

“I bet” he smirks back.

Everyone talked for awhile. Then people started leaving shortly after one another. First was Jordan, then Lydia with Kira, Scott, stiles and Issac left all together. That left you and Derek alone.

“Want to put on a movie” you ask Than add “ or I can just go home if you want” you joke

“I really wish you wouldn’t go"Derek says while putting some of your hair behind your ear.

This made you blush which Derek was well aware of and smirked leaning in close to your face lips just touching slightly, lingering on each other. You breath in and Derek finally smashes his lip to yours. Passionately kissing for a couple minutes and then pulling away with cute smiles on both your face’s.

Originally posted by holyhalehottness

Derek gets up from the couch and grabs a movie for you two to watch. He puts the movie in and sits back down beside you.

"Not that I don’t want to watch the movie, but I much rather kiss you some more” you speak nonchalantly

Derek takes that as his que.

He grabs your face pulling it close to his and kissing you just as passionate as before. The kiss turned into a full on make out session with Derek on his couch.

You end up laying on your back on the couch with Derek on top of you lips locked together. Your hands are in Derek’s hair while his hands are roaming up and down your body. Derek’s hands stop moving all over your body and his lips separated from yours. He moves his face back a few inches away from yours

“We should probably stop” Derek says

You breathe out a little “yeah maybe we should slow down for now” you agree

Derek and you cuddle on the couch watching the rest of whatever movie Derek had put on.

The movie ended and you stood up grabbing your purse.

“Let me drive you home, its late” Derek offers

You nod and say “Alright thanks Der”

You guys leave the loft and get into his car.

The radio is on and a song you know and love comes on. So of course you can’t help your self and sing along.

Derek glances your way throughout the drive to your house smiling at how adorable you look moving around dancing and singing in the passenger seat.

You arrive at home. Derek walks you to your door.

“Thank you for the ride” you smile

“Anytime babe, gotta make sure your safe” he says and kisses your cheek.

“Have a goodnight and sleep well” Derek says to you.

“You too” you say back waving at him as he gets into his car.

And here you are standing at your door watching him drive down the street with a lovestruck smile and gleam in your eye.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(gifs not mine) Ya’ll really got to hurry up and read part 7. i notice that the post saying i will be posting part 7 has got more attention than the actual part. so please read the part as well so you can enjoy part 8. I am sorry if this is short. it seemed longer on paper lol. but no worries i intend on making many long parts as well.

LOVE YOU ALL<3 Follow me :)

A Puck and A Date- JVR

Originally posted by pavszacha

Ok anon gave me free reign of players and I haven’t done a JVR one in a while and I need my fix! Lol! Also check out @nhl-hockey-fanfic! She has a William Nylander 14 parter that is awesome as well!

Warnings: None!

Anon Request: Hey could you do an imagine where a player hits you with a puck and he feels really bad about it and asks you out on a date? The player can be anyone, sorry if that doesn’t make any sense. I love your writing by the way 💙

~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

              You don’t remember it happening.

Keep reading

Deserted Island

“hello, i was wondering if i could request a really cool imagine where y/n and c/n are stranded on an island together and stuff lol thought that would be a fun thing to imagine!! love your blog ❤”

I HAD to do this one next; I LOVE this plot because you can start with two complete strangers and literally force them to become super close and dependent on each other. So yeah, that’s what I did - hope you enjoy!

P.S. I gave (c/n) a bit of tragic backstory in this one so just humor me a lil

Word count: 8.6k


The sun glares at you and you shield your eyes with your hands, scrunching up your face. You walk slowly down the wooden docks lined with boats of various sizes, searching for one in particular. At last you spot a tiny motorboat with Mary scrawled across it in sky-blue paint. You hurry towards it. A very tan boy about your age is sprawled on his back on the bow of the boat, shades covering his eyes. You can’t tell if he’s asleep, so you clear your throat.

When there’s no response, you frown and lean forward awkwardly, rapping your knuckles on the side of the boat. “Excuse me…uh…hello?”

The boy stirs, lifting his head an inch or so. You give a half smile and wave. “Yes. Hello. Are you the man I spoke with on the phone?”

The boy lays his head back down, crossing his arms. “That was probably my dad.”

“Oh.” You stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do. “Um, where is he?”

“Out.”

You wait for more. Apparently, he doesn’t have anything else to say. You furrow your eyebrows, getting more confused by the second. “Out where? When will he be back?”

The boy lifts his head up again, clearly growing annoyed at your persistent interruptions. “Not till tonight.”

“That’s not possible.” You frown. “He was supposed to give me a ride today, at noon. It’s noon. We arranged all this over the phone.” You hear your voice becoming more high-pitched and hysterical, and curse silently for choosing this clearly unreliable boat service. It was the cheapest option at such short notice.

The boy sits up and raises his sunglasses to squint at you, and you’re momentarily caught off guard by how beautiful his eyes are. You could tell he was attractive even with the shades on, but now that you can see his whole face it’s clear this boy could model for Abercrombie. Maybe he does.

At last he lowers the sunglasses over his eyes again, as though he’s gathered all the information he needs. He nods slightly to himself. “All right. I’ll take you.”

“You will?” You feel slightly uneasy at trusting your travel to this kid, as opposed to his presumably more experienced father. But on the other hand, you can hardly complain - even if he gets you both killed, at least you’ll have eye candy while you’re dying. You grin at him. “Thanks so much.”

With a heavy sigh, the boy slides off the bow to a standing position, where you’re able to really appreciate his height. Unfortunately, he is wearing a t-shirt, but you still have a great view of his flawless arms. Tan, toned legs stretch out under his swim trunks. He must spend a lot of time out in the sun. “Do you do this a lot?” you ask conversationally, trying to be friendly but also trying to find out just how much experience he actually has.

The boy just shrugs. Not one for small talk, huh. Well, let’s just try to get his name, and then you can leave him alone. “I’m (y/n) by the way. You?”

“(C/n).” He sits down in the driver’s seat and asks, “Where to?”

You rummage through your small bag and pull out a piece of paper with an address on it, or coordinates, or whatever they use for directions on the ocean. You don’t really know what any of it means. In any case, the name of the island where you’re meeting your friends is written in big letters, so hopefully he’ll know where that is. You hand it to him, and he glances at it for a second before nodding and starting up the engine. You give a small sigh of relief. Maybe you’ll arrive in time for a fun day with your friends after all.

The small boat starts moving with a jolt, and you stumble, grabbing the edge of the boat to steady yourself. You look around for a place to sit. There’s a small bench lining the sides, so you try to make yourself comfortable there. After a few minutes of silence, you lean forward and ask, shouting to make yourself heard, “How long until we get there?”

“A couple of hours. It’s pretty much in the middle of nowhere.”

You sigh and slump back down in your seat. If only you were rich and had a private jet to take you everywhere. You really hope this “adventurous outing” with the girls will be worth it. To pass the time, you pull out your sunscreen and start applying it, stripping down to your bikini to make sure you get every inch of skin.

After a little while, your driver turns his head, maybe to check that you didn’t fall overboard, considering you’ve been completely silent. He does a double take, probably surprised to see you with half the clothes you previously had on. You hide a smirk and continue applying sunscreen all over, determined not to get an ugly burn like you always do.

As time drags on, the monotonous but strangely relaxing roar of the boat in your ears and the sun beating down on your face, you feel a drowsiness weighing you down. You stretch out on the bench and put on shades, slinging an arm over your face to hide it from the sun. In no time you’re lulled to sleep, the comfortable smell of salt carrying over into your dreams, in which you befriend a pleasant sea turtle and swim with chattering seals, leaving all of your worries at the shore.

“(Y/n).” A voice shakes you out of your dreams, low but with urgent undertones. Someone is shaking your arm. “(Y/n), wake up.”

You lift your sunglasses and blink furiously in the sudden brightness. “Wha-” You see (c/n)’s face hovering over yours. The roar of the engine is absent and the boat seems to have stopped moving. “Are we here?” You look around. All you can see is blue water. No island in sight.

“No.” (C/n) looks unsettled, and immediately you begin to feel nervous. “We ran out of gas.”

You blink slowly, trying to process this information with grogginess still clouding your thoughts. “Oh. Um…is there, like…extra? Spare jugs, or whatever?”

His answering expression increases your worry exponentially. He sighs. “No. I’ve looked everywhere. I wouldn’t have gotten you involved if I hadn’t tried everything already.”

You sit up quickly. “What? You mean we’re actually stuck?” You look around again, this time with mounting panic. The sight of surrounding blue brings you anything but calm. “Can’t you call someone to pick us up?”

“Call?” He laughs without humor. “We’re in the middle of the ocean, there’s no cell service here.”

“Well…isn’t there a GPS, or a map or something? Whatever you were using before…” You trail off, wondering why the hell he’s asking you for advice. As if you know the first thing about how to travel by boat. You’re just making a fool of yourself at this point.

This becomes evident on (c/n)’s face. “Yes. We have maps. But the boat needs to actually work. We have emergency paddles, but that would take hours, days even.”

“Jesus.” You make a face, trying to battle the stress, which is clearly starting to affect (c/n) as well. He’s pacing back and forth in the tiny floor space, running his fingers through his hair over and over. You rack your brains for solutions. “Um…can you, like, hot-wire it? Like a car?”

(C/n) just looks at you, and you wait for a scathing response, but he says nothing. He appears to be thinking. “That could work,” he says at last. “If I hot-wire one of the fuel pumps…” he mumbles to himself, losing you completely. You tune back in when he says, “I watched my dad do it once…how hard could it be?”

You almost laugh at the sheer folly of your situation. You have never hotwired anything, and neither, apparently, has (c/n). This has to be a joke. “There’s seriously no better option?” you ask incredulously. Inwardly, you make a promise never to accept a boat ride from an idiot ever again. That is, if you get out of this alive.

(C/n) doesn’t answer your question, but instead kneels in front of the controls, looking for something in particular. You squat next to him, trying to help but completely clueless. Finally he pulls out a jumble of wires and starts untangling them. Meanwhile, you pinch yourself to make sure you aren’t still dreaming. Shit dream, if it is one.

“Okay, (y/n),” he says, turning to you and looking you directly in the eyes for perhaps the first time. “I need you to turn the key when I tell you to. Can you do that?”

You nod wordlessly. Your fingers, trembling slightly, find the key on the console and grasp it. When (c/n) yells “Go!” you turn the key - in the wrong direction. Quickly you reverse it. You hear a kind of pop. “What was that? Did it work?” you question anxiously.

(C/n) just shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Suddenly his eyes widen. “Oh, shit.” He looks up, panic evident in his face. “Shit.”

“Huh-” Before you can finish expressing your confusion, he shouts, “Jump!”

“Jump where? What?!”

Without further hesitation, (c/n) scoops you up in his arms and throws you overboard, as effortlessly as if you were a baby. Plunging underwater, you quickly resurface, utterly flabbergasted. You open your eyes in time to see (c/n) diving off the boat just as the whole thing implodes in a cloud of smoke and fire.

*small timeskip*

You’re hugging a stray piece of wood to your chest, clutching onto it for dear life as you try to catch your breath. Dimly, you recognize the wood from the bench you were sitting on. You look across the water to where (c/n) is hanging onto a burnt white slab of wood, with the remains of the word Mary written on it in blue. He traces the letters morosely with his finger, a shellshocked glaze in his eyes. Meanwhile, a strange calm has settled over you, as though your life-threatening situation is just a distant movie and you’re simply a spectator.

You look around at what remains of the boat. There goes our GPS, you remark in your head, almost with a sense of amusement. Looking back at (c/n), you conclude that he probably won’t be any help right at this moment. Clearing your throat, you start to yell for help at the top of your lungs.

After a few seconds of this, (c/n) turns his gaze in your direction. “What are you doing?”

“Calling for help, idiot,” you answer. What else would you be doing?

(C/n) lies back in the water. “It’s no use. We’re miles away from civilization. We’re as good as dead.”

You stare incredulously. “So, you’re just gonna give up and accept death?”

(C/n) gives an almost imperceptible shrug in response. Sighing, you turn in a slow circle, trying to see as far as you can. You shield your eyes as you turn towards the sun, squinting through the glare. As you’re about to continue your revolution, wooden plank still held tightly in one arm, you notice something on the horizon. You stare as hard as your eyes will allow, and make out some sort of shape. “(C/n),” you say distractedly. “(C/n), look over there.”

He follows your eyes to the lump on the horizon, and when he sees it, he snaps to attention. Suddenly alert again, he starts paddling towards it, as though he’ll get a better look with a few seconds of swimming. “(C/n),” you call after him, “Wait up!” You start swimming after him, using the bench as a kickboard.

Perhaps an hour or two later - you have absolutely no sense of time - you slump over your piece of wood, exhausted. You and (c/n) have been paddling wordlessly towards that one shining chance of survival, and now, it has grown into what you could conceivably call an island. You can make out a miniature mountain dotted with palm trees. No sign of buildings or any sort of man-made construction, but you’re not close enough to know for sure.

As you gasp for breath, (c/n) turns and paddles back over to you. “Come on,” he says, in a tone almost comparable to that of encouragement. “Not much farther now.” When you only cough in response, he grabs your arm and starts pulling you along with him, kicking his feet to propel himself. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thank God that (c/n) is a good swimmer, or works out a lot, or both. You certainly can’t say the same about yourself.

After another hour or more of this, during which exhaustion pulls you in and out of lucidity, (c/n) shakes you into the waking world again. “(Y/n). Hey. Wake up.”

You bring yourself upright and suddenly feel the ocean floor beneath your feet. Looking up, you’re confronted with the sight of what was once a miniature island, now up close and enormous. The shore is only a hundred feet away. Staring in shock for a minute, you take it all in. The sandy beach, the towering palm trees, the rocky hills in the background. In any other situation, this would be a charming location, a tropical paradise. Nevertheless, at this moment it’s your only chance of survival. You start wading through the water, splashing towards shore, (c/n) close behind you.

After a minute of standing in the soft white sand in silence, you ask the burning question. “Where are we?” you breathe out, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

(C/n) shakes his head slowly, as if in disbelief. “I have no idea. I didn’t know this place existed.”

You glance sideways at him. His t-shirt is soaked and clinging to his skin, perfectly outlining his muscles. You quickly pull your eyes back to the island before you get too caught up in staring at him. But you notice he still has the burnt piece of boat in one hand, letting it trail in the sand.

You walk forward a few steps before collapsing, too tired to stand. You lie on your back in the hot sand, trying to stay warm as the cold water evaporates off your skin, leaving you shivering. (C/n) pulls his wet t-shirt off, obviously cold as well, and despite your current state you can’t help but stare. He mimics you and lies down in the warm sand, breathing heavily. The two of you just lie there, exhausted and shellshocked. On the horizon, the sun is beginning to set, and though you have a perfect view, you are unable to appreciate it. Before the real show has even begun, your eyes are already closed.

Cold water lapping at your feet jolts you awake. You sit up, utterly disoriented. It takes a solid minute of looking around in confusion for everything to come back to you. You groan and let your head fall back down. Apparently this wasn’t just a really vivid nightmare.

The sun is high in the sky, suggesting that you slept in pretty late. At least you got a good night’s sleep. Small comfort in a world like this one, where sleep is the least of your worries. After a few minutes of feeling sorry for yourself, you steel yourself and sit up again. Eventually you make it all the way to a standing position, and congratulate yourself. Positivity and self-encouragement…that’s what your therapist always tells you. You brush the sand off your back, realizing you’re still wearing only a string bikini. It’s a good thing the nights in this region are fairly warm or you could have frozen to death.

A human-shaped indentation in the sand reminds you of your fellow castaway. Scanning your surroundings, you find no sign of (c/n). You call his name a few times, but the only response is the chattering of some unidentifiable bird. At least you’ll have something to eat, if you survive long enough to even attempt hunting.

Well, with no other pressing matters besides your inevitable decomposition on this deserted island in the middle of nowhere, you decide to wander around a little and get the lay of the land, and hopefully find (c/n) along the way.

You pick a direction and start walking. Somehow, in the midst of your fear of being found dead in a hundred years, you’re able to enjoy the myriad of pleasant views this island has to offer. The sun sparkling on the clear blue waters and the white sand beaches make you momentarily forget about your quandary, or at least, put it on the back burner, as they say. You do love palm trees, and this island is full of them. You weave in and out of the line of trees forming the edge of a much thicker forest in the middle of the island. It’s probably not as pleasant in there, and you hope (c/n) hasn’t already gotten lost inside, or possibly mauled by a local bear. Once again, you marvel at your own nonchalance.

After a while of this, you stop to take a break. Exercise was never your thing. It’s as you’re standing there catching your breath that you notice a figure sitting against a palm tree not far away. Surprised but elated at the thought of a fellow human, you run towards the person, shouting and waving your arms. You stop when you get closer and realize it’s (c/n). He watches you, expressionless.

“Oh. It’s just you.” You flop onto the ground near him, disappointment obvious in your expression.

(C/n) snorts. “Hello to you too.”

You give him an exasperated look. “You know what I mean.”

“I’ve been up for hours searching the whole island and shouting. Trust me…we’re alone.” He starts drawing circles in the sand absentmindedly.

“Oh.” You frown. “I didn’t hear any shouting.”

He rolls his eyes. “No one could have heard anything over your snoring. You sure like to sleep.”

You contemplate this, trying to figure out whether to take offense or not. “Well, sue me.” You stand up. “Why don’t we try to find a source of fresh water?”

(C/n) doesn’t look up from his sand drawings. “I’ll pass.”

You squint at him.  “Umm…that’s not really an option,” you start.

“Why not?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re stranded on an island?” You throw your arms out in a gesture of frustration. “We’re gonna have to work together if we want any chance of survival.”

(C/n) stops drawing and looks up at you through slitted eyes. “What makes you think we’re going to survive?”

You take a deep breath, trying to control your exasperation. Patience is a virtue, you remind yourself. Maybe this boy is confused. “There are trees and stuff. There’s probably food. There are animals. If we’re desperate enough we can probably strangle them to death. We’re one, two hours away from civilization, max. It’s not that unlikely that a ship will pass by within a few days. And, I’m sorry, but do you WANT to die?” Your voice rises in pitch with every sentence.

You hoped you could help (c/n) see reason, but instead you seem to have angered him somehow. He opens his mouth and unleashes his own tirade. “There are a thousand different ways we could get killed here. You’re not going to find a magical stream of fresh water and wild animals won’t just waltz into your arms. Only in the movies do people get stranded on a deserted island and actually come out alive. You can do all the animal-strangling and tree-shaking you want. But if you don’t mind, I’d rather enjoy my last days relaxing on the beach than getting attacked by wild rats or wandering around until I pass out.” He leans back against the tree, apparently considering the matter decided.

Unbelievable. You set your jaw and grab his arm. Surprised, (c/n) tries to shove you off but you latch on and pull him off the ground, with some difficulty. “Listen up, buddy. I’m only here in the first place because you fucked up. I’m not going to die here because you were too lazy and selfish and apparently suicidal to help!”

At that, (c/n) stops resisting. His expression changes, and you wonder if that’s shame flitting across his face. At any rate, he seems to give in. “Alright, fine. Just…tell me what to do.”

Satisfied, you let him go. “We have to find some kind of river or something. We can only survive three days without fresh water.”

“Nice fact, teacher. Watch a lot of Bear Grylls?” Shame or no shame, his sarcasm is certainly still intact.

“Nice joke Seinfeld, watch a lot of Comedy Central?” you snap back.

“As if, I have better things to do with my time than loaf around in front of the TV.”

“Like what, loafing around on your boat?”

“At least I have a boat, bet you can’t say the same.”

“Had a boat,” you correct him. He winces, and you instantly feel bad. It’s not like he wasn’t fully aware of the situation already, but it’s true that for a moment it was as if nothing was wrong. “Sorry,” you mumble quickly.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, you start whistling the theme to Gilligan’s Island. It seems fitting, and lightens the mood, in your opinion. (C/n), however, does not seem to agree.

“Stop that,” he grumbles. “You’re pitchy and it’s hurting my ears.”

Hurt, you fix him with a withering stare. “Excuse me, do you plan to tone down your attitude anytime soon?”

“Nope.” (C/n)’s mouth twitches, almost as if he’s smirking, but of course that’s impossible.

You settle back into a comparatively more comfortable silence as you make your way towards the thicket of trees in the center of the island. It looks a little foreboding, but considering your options, you try to see it as more of a fun hiking trip through a tropical forest. In reality, though, who knows what you might run into in there?

As the underbrush gets thicker, you can’t help grimacing at all the leaves and branches scratching your bare legs and torso. If only you decided to keep your clothes on and apply sunscreen later on. You could really use the extra coverage right now.

Maybe (c/n) notices your struggle, because he pushes in front of you and leads the way, whacking branches out of the way with a stick he’s just picked up. You smile a little. Did he just do you a favor? Cold, heartless (c/n) could still be a gentleman deep down inside.

Nothing can be done about your bare feet, however. You may have pretty soft skin, but you suspect (c/n) must be struggling as well with the sharp rocks and protruding roots all over the forest floor. You tread in fear of impaling your foot on a thorn. The two of you walk slowly with your eyes glued to the ground. With your vision busy, you have to rely on your hearing, ears perked to catch the sound of running water, which is seeming more and more like a fantasy as time passes.

Just as you’re about to give up, you hear that blessed sound: the quiet gurgle of water trickling over rocks. You and (c/n) run towards the sound and heave simultaneous sighs of relief as you stumble onto the banks of a tiny river tumbling downhill. “How’s that for a magical stream?” you tease triumphantly.

Rather than responding, (c/n) kneels by the stream, plunges his hands in the water and drinks from his cupped hands, then splashes the water all over his face. You laugh but join him, relishing from the sweet, cold, and probably unsanitary water. Oh well, it’s worth the risk.

You follow the stream back downhill to see where it ends, finding a small pool at the edge of the forest. “This is perfect. We can come here for water.”

“Let’s hope it’s not full of diseases,” (c/n) interjects unhelpfully. You ignore him. “Great. Now we have to build a shelter and figure out how to start a fire before it gets dark again.”

“Easy peasy.” (C/n) cracks perhaps his first smile. Too bad it’s clearly a sarcastic one. However, you’ll ignore that, too.

“That’s the spirit. Positivity is key, or so my therapist always says.” You flash a bright smile. Maybe you can blind him into submission with your bright white teeth.

(C/n) glances at you in vague amusement. “You have a therapist?”

“Yes, I do. I’m not ashamed. It’s healthy to express your feelings once in awhile.” You give him a pointed look. “Or once in a century, for some people.”

“I don’t like talking about my feelings. Why would I want to spill my guts to a stranger?” (C/n) starts walking back out onto the beach, and you follow close behind.

“It doesn’t have to be a stranger. I can be your therapist,” you offer with another cheery smile.

He glances back. “You’re a stranger too.”

“That’s no way to treat the only other human on this island,” you respond lightly, trying to hide how insulted you really are.

(C/n) stops walking and faces you. “So, because we’re trapped here together, we have to become best friends?”

“I…didn’t say that,” you say hesitantly, taken aback by his seriousness.

“Look, when - if - we get rescued, I plan to forget this all happened and go back to living my life. We will not be best friends, got it?”

Suddenly you feel defensive. “Hey, I didn’t ask for this. But now that we’re here, the least we can do is work together to try to stay alive. That may require occasionally interacting, and if that upsets you then toughen up!”

(C/n) snorts and starts walking away. Seething with hurt and resentment, you turn on your heel and storm off in the other direction.

You spend the rest of the afternoon retrieving sticks and logs from the forest, doing your best to build a makeshift shelter. You try to recall everything you know from elementary school Girl Scouts, and random tidbits from the internet. At last, you step back and admire your work. A clumsy but not unfriendly little tent of sticks leans against the widest palm tree you could find. You crawl inside and discover that it’s actually quite roomy. Feeling proud of your handiwork, you grab some extra sticks and sit down with the ambitious new goal of starting a fire before it gets dark.

After what feels like an eternity of rubbing sticks together, feeling ridiculous, and cursing, you throw the sticks away angrily. You’ll obviously have to go without a fire tonight. Maybe tomorrow it’ll suddenly make sense. Right now, as the sky starts to darken, nothing makes sense.

You crawl back under your haphazard assembly of sticks and lie down. Alone and still for the first time in hours, the gnawing hunger that remained dormant for most of the day now eats a hole in your insides. You wonder if it’s possible for your body to consume itself, because that’s what it feels like. The urge to find food, any food, is overwhelming, and yet the sudden feeling of hopelessness is even more so. How could you have acted so positive all day, when in reality you don’t stand a chance? (C/n), that jerk, was right. You’re going to die here, in the middle of nowhere.

You curl up and try to erase all the thoughts in your mind, but you can feel the shock of recent events fading away as the grim reality truly sinks in for the first time. Fear suffocates you, and you find yourself struggling to breathe. A tear escapes your eye and you brush it away. Crying won’t do you any good, that’s for sure. But even so, more tears well up. Your sides shake silently as the depression settles over you like a dark, heavy blanket, eventually dragging you into sleep once more.

(C/n) finds you in the morning. You’re awoken by his shouts, calling your name. They grow closer and closer until you feel his hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently. You don’t move, partly because you don’t want to and partly because you can’t. You’re completely depleted of energy, and the only thing you feel now is that gnawing hunger, tearing you apart from the inside.

“(Y/n)?” He shakes you again. “Wake up.” He waits for a response. “(Y/n), please wake up.”

After a moment his hand leaves your shoulder, and you hear the sticks of your shelter clattering together, falling away from you onto the sand. You’re lying in the open, a cool morning breeze caressing your cheeks. (C/n) turns you onto your back and shakes you again. “Come on, (y/n), wake up, please…” You hear the worry in his voice, but can’t seem to make yourself move.

It’s when (c/n) puts a finger on your neck to feel a pulse that something stirs inside you. He thinks you’re dead? Well, that’s just silly. You try to open your mouth, or even your eyes. Now his ear is on your chest, probably listening for a heartbeat. His hair tickles your chin. You manage to open your mouth.

“I’m…not…dead,” you croak out.

(C/n) lifts his head off your chest and you can feel his stare, as well as his relief. “Well, good,” he says. Then, “You did that on purpose.”

You would make a snappy comeback, but that would require too much energy. It’s easier just to lie there. Accept death, as (c/n) kept saying.

“(Y/n), seriously, get up.” (C/n) nudges you. “Hello?” He sounds concerned again. After a moment, he says, “Open your mouth.” You decline to obey.

Another moment passes. “I have food.” At the sound of that magic word, your mouth opens all on its own. Something enters. You recognize the taste of banana, and slowly chew and swallow.

(C/n) lets out a slight chuckle. “Good. Have the rest.” He puts the banana in your hand. At this, you finally open your eyes.

(C/n) is kneeling over you. The first thing you notice is his lack of a shirt. The next thing you notice is the strip of cloth tied around his head. He’s doing that makeshift headband thing from every survival movie, and dammit, he’s pulling it off. You hate to admit it, but he looks sexy. By comparison, you must be a mess. You can feel the layer of grime on your face, except where tears from last night left tracks. You’re still in only your bikini, which is pretty dirty by now, too.

You decide to sit up, with some difficulty, and take another bite of banana. It’s a bit unripe but you’ll take what you can get. “Where did you find this?”

“I can show you later. I’ve been up for a while, and I’ve found a lot of stuff.” (C/n) smiles at you, an unusual and disorienting sight.

You point to his new headpiece. “Is this your shirt?”

“Yeah, I hemmed it a little,” he jokes. “Oh, and I brought the rest for you.” He hands you a lump of cloth. “This should be short enough to fit you now.”

You hold up the shirt. It looks mostly intact, with just a couple inches missing from the bottom. You pull it on over your head, enjoying the feeling of real clothing again. It’s almost like you’re back home, away from this nightmare. A fresh tear wells up, and you take this chance to wipe your face with it, using the edge of (c/n)’s shirt. He watches you, concern etched across his features.

When you’re finished, you sit staring at nothing. (C/n) lets you sit in silence for a minute before speaking in a low voice.

“What happened?”

Your voice comes out a whisper.

“I lost hope.”

For a while neither of you says anything. Then (c/n) says, “I’m sorry.” He gazes apologetically at you. “You were right, we need each other. I don’t know why I acted like I did. I…I don’t like to open up. I don’t want to make myself vulnerable. I can’t be like you. But I promise I’ll be helpful from now on. I’m not going to be negative anymore. I just need you to stay positive, too.” His eyes implore you to respond.

You let the words sink in, still in disbelief that (c/n) could put together so many sentences at once - and that he sounds so sincere. Your sudden moral disintegration must have rattled him. You start getting to your feet, and (c/n) immediately wraps an arm around your waist, supporting you.

“Thanks.” You take a few more bites of the banana and then toss the peel away. (C/n) starts to lead you down the beach. “This way.”

You arrive at a spot on the island where (c/n) obviously tried to set up camp. There is a small shelter of sticks, shaped like a very short, wide box but admittedly sturdier than yours. You notice the piece of wood with Mary still legible on it, resting on the roof. “How do you sleep in this?” you ask, pointing towards the shelter, which is less than two feet tall.

“Simple.” (C/n) slides under the stick roof and lies down with his head sticking out, grinning at you. “It’s quite comfortable. We can share if you want.”

A light blush colors your cheeks. “Um, okay. Thanks.” You look around. More sticks are piled up a few feet away. “Did you get a fire started?”

(C/n) crawls back out of the shelter. “No, I didn’t know how,” he says, looking a bit embarrassed.

“Me neither.”

“That’s okay. We can try again tonight.”

You give him a peculiar look. “What’s with Mr. Positivity all of a sudden?”

He smiles. “One of us has to do it. I’m just subbing in until you’re all better.”

“I’ll be better with more food,” you tell him.

“Right, food!” (C/n) looks excited. “I found so much fruit in the forest. You were right about that too, of course. There are even coconuts. If we can break one open we can store water, and stuff like that.” He holds his hand out to you. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

You take his hand and start walking back into the forest together.

Hours later you emerge from the trees, stuffed with bananas, berries, and even mangoes. You can hardly believe your luck - well, not the luck that got you stranded on an island in the first place, but it could be worse. However, you’ve discovered that coconuts do not taste that great with no sugar.

As you arrive back at your new home, (c/n) announces, “I have to pee.”

“Where are you gonna go?” you ask curiously.

“In the ocean, dummy. Where have you been going?”

“I haven’t.”

“What?”

“I didn’t eat for like two days. I’m pretty sure there was nothing to…yeah.”

(C/n) shrugs and goes off, splashing out into the water a few feet. You turn away, smiling slightly. After a few seconds (c/n) calls out, “The water is really nice, you should come in!”

You laugh. “No way, I’m not swimming with your pee.”

“You were fine with all the fish pee, what’s wrong with mine?”

You roll your eyes but start walking out towards the ocean, stepping cautiously into the water at least twenty feet away from (c/n). It is quite warm, and the gentle lapping around your ankles relaxes you. You take another step forward. Looking around for (c/n), you realize you can’t see him in the water anymore.

Before you can turn and check the beach, something crashes into you from behind. You shriek and fall forward into the water, (c/n)’s heavy body pushing you down. Struggling to shove him off, your hands slide against his slippery arms and chest, and you don’t fail to notice when your fingers brush up against his abs. Feeling a little flustered at the proximity of his tan, wet body, you finally roll out from under him and run away as fast as the water will allow.

(C/n) gets up and chases after you, so you turn around to fight him, splashing water into his fast-approaching face. You scream a little too, as if this will ward him off. But despite your efforts, his hands land on your waist and you crash down into the shallow water together.

You give up and lie back, laughing and trying to catch your breath. The two of you lie there for a moment, breathing heavily. (C/n) grins down at you. “Nice try, but you can never escape me.” He stands up and grabs your hands, pulling you to your feet.

You glance out onto the horizon. Though it’s light out, night isn’t that far away. “The sun is gonna set soon. Let’s try and build that fire now.”

(C/n) mumbles in agreement, and you walk back to the piles of wood on the beach. You pick up a couple sticks. “Okay, this can’t be that hard. I’ve seen them do it on TV. Who cares if I tried for an hour and it didn’t work?”

“Well, I beg to differ,” (c/n) interjects, “but I’ve learned to appreciate that attitude.” He winks.

Strangely touched, you smile and squat down with your sticks. Realizing you need tinder, you ask (c/n) to get you a stringy piece of bark. You shred it as well as you can and arrange it in a pile, throwing in a couple pieces of dried palm leaf. Well, this isn’t ideal. Then you remember the coconuts. The stringy brown fibers could make perfect tinder. (C/n) has a few coconuts in a pile for future use, so you pull off as much fiber as you can and make a bundle out of it, adding it to your pile.

Next you get the flattest piece of wood you can find and lay it down in front of you. You pick up a short stick with a relatively pointed end, make a notch in the flat piece of wood, and then start twirling the stick between your palms. (C/n) sits next to you, watching with great interest.

“I’ve never successfully done this, but…I think this is how it’s supposed to look…” you explain anxiously. There must be something you’re doing wrong, besides the less-than-ideal materials you’ve chosen. After a few minutes of twirling the stick with no results, you sigh and stop for a moment. “Maybe this was a dumb idea.”

(C/n) grabs the stick from you. “No, no, we can do it. Let me try.” He tries to imitate your actions, but it looks clumsy and the stick keeps sliding off the board.

“Couldn’t you have done Boy Scouts when you were little? It would be really helpful right now.” Impatiently, you take the stick back and start twirling it again. “See, this is what you’re supposed to do.”

As you show him, a tiny wisp of smoke appears. A high pitched squeal of excitement comes out of your mouth, and (c/n) laughs. “Smoke! We have smoke! Keep going.”

But your hands are starting to blister from all the rubbing. “I can’t. It hurts.”

“Okay. I got it, don’t worry.” (C/n) puts his hands on the stick and you quickly remove yours, not wanting to lose a second of the friction. He rubs his hands together like you did, more successfully this time. The wisp of smoke grows, and soon, a small ember appears. You gasp. “Oh my God, keep going! You got it!”

The ember grows, and once it’s big enough you stop him, picking up the piece of wood and carefully tipping the ember onto the pile of coconut and bark fibers. A tiny flame appears and largens, quickly engulfing the pile of tinder.

You and (c/n) gasp and shriek and jump up and down, grabbing each other and dancing gleefully around your tiny fire. “We did it! We did it!” You can barely breathe from excitement. (C/n) grabs your face. “You’re a genius.”

Your cheeks heat up a bit. “You’re the one who started the fire.” Then you look back at your creation. “Wait, we should add more wood before it goes out.”

The two of you grab sticks of various sizes and try to catch them on fire, but progress is slow. Most of the branches seem to be too green. “We need something more dead.” You glance around, spotting the piece of boat on top of the shelter. You pick it up. “Hey, this could work.”

Suddenly (c/n)’s joyful expression shifts. His face hardens. “No!” he shouts, snatching it away from you.

Shocked, you stand frozen. “I…uh, I’m sorry…”

(C/n) turns away and pokes through the pile of sticks, finding one that seems less green than the others and shoving it into the fire. It catches and he sits back down on the sand, avoiding your eyes.

You sit down hesitantly across from him, on the other side of the fire, and watch it in silence for a minute. (C/n) traces the burnt blue letters on the piece of boat. Out on the horizon, the sun is just beginning to set.

Finally (c/n) speaks up, slowly, as if it causes him great pain. “Mary was my mother’s name. We named the boat after her.”

You’re not sure what to say. After a moment, he continues. “She died when I was young.”

“I’m so sorry.” You watch his face. His eyes are fixed on the piece of wood.

“When the boat exploded…it was like I killed the last piece of her we had left.” He stares now into the fire. “Maybe if I die here, I’ll get to see her again.”

“Don’t say that.” You crawl around the fire to sit next to him, putting a cautious hand on his bare shoulder. “People love you, and they need you.”

“Who?” (C/n) looks up at you. “My father? He doesn’t need me. I don’t even think he cares.”

“Yes, he does.”

“You don’t even know him.” (C/n) glares accusingly at you.

“He cares, I know he does.” You know how bad that sounds, but can’t think of what else to say. You feel for him, and wish you could say something that would help in some way. You take a deep breath. “And…I know it won’t mean anything, but…I care. And I need you.”

He searches your face, perhaps seeing the sincerity there. Then he looks back down at his feet and wipes his eyes. “It means something. Thanks.”

You put an arm around him and lean against him, hoping to be of some comfort. For a while longer, neither of you says anything, watching as the sun goes down, setting the ocean on fire.

When the last bit of light is getting sucked out of the sky, you finally stand up and slide into the shelter with (c/n). You lie close together to conserve heat as the air gets cooler, you in only your bikini bottoms and (c/n)’s t-shirt, and him wearing only swim trunks. “Good night, (c/n),” you whisper.

He pulls you closer in response. “Good night, (y/n).”

You fall asleep to the sound of waves lapping at the shore.

The next morning, for once, you wake up first. The sunlight hits (c/n)’s face from the entrance to the stick shelter, and you admire the way it lights up his face. He looks so peaceful. Not to mention gorgeous. You shake your head slightly and crawl outside.

Your stomach grumbles, so you make a quick trip to the forest to find some more fruit. When you get back to the beach, (c/n) is already awake, sitting on the sand. He gets up when he sees you. “Where did you go?” he asks anxiously.

“I went to get some food,” you say, pointing to the forest.

“I got so worried. Don’t leave without telling me,” he says, a small whine in his voice. You chuckle. “Okay, I’m sorry.” You hold out a banana. “I brought this for you.”

“One measly banana?” (C/n) scoffs. “You underestimate my hunger. We’re going back in there.” He grabs your hand and marches you back into the trees.

After gorging on fruit, (c/n) points up to a tall tree with protruding branches. “That looks like the perfect tree to climb.”

You follow his finger. “Don’t be ridiculous, you’ll die.”

“Never climbed a tree before?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Let me show you how it’s done.” He drops a mango rind and throws himself onto the trunk of the tree, grasping onto its branches. He looks like a monkey, shimmying up the tree, and you giggle at the sight. He settles onto a forked branch high above your head and waves down. You wave back. Then he jumps down, almost crashing into you before you leap backwards.

“Your turn.” (C/n) grins and pushes you forward. “Up you go. It’s easy.”

“Unlike you, I’m not part monkey,” you remind him. Nevertheless, you approach the tree and grab a low-hanging branch, hoisting yourself up. You glance back apprehensively at (c/n), who gives you a thumbs up. “I’ll catch you if you fall!” He holds out his arms and grins again.

Swallowing, you continue up the tree, managing to get a few feet up. When you look back down, you realize how much scarier it looks from up here. Suddenly you feel dizzy. “I’m done!” you announce, hoping he can’t hear the tremor in your voice.

“Pssh, very well, jump back down.”

“I prefer to climb down safely, thank you very much.” But as you finish your sentence, the branch in your right hand bends and then breaks with a snapping sound. “Shit.” You try to find another handhold but can’t, and end up hanging on with just one hand.

(C/n)’s voice floats up. “You can fall, I got you!” You roll your eyes despite your fear. No way are you trusting him. Unfortunately, you are left without a choice as your remaining hand slips, and suddenly you’re falling.

You land in (c/n)’s arms, but his knees buckle under the sudden weight and he falls to the ground. You land on your back on the forest floor and he lands on top of you.

“Ow,” you complain, rubbing your butt.

“Sorry.” (C/n) smiles apologetically. You laugh softly and he joins in.

Without getting off of you, (c/n) reaches out and plucks a nearby flower. He tucks it behind your ear and smiles. “That’s cute.”

“Get another one,” you say, and he obliges, handing you another flower. You put it behind his ear. “Now you look cute too.”

“Thank you.” (C/n) grins down at you. His eyes wander across your face and down to your mouth. Then they meet yours for a second before he lowers his head and touches his lips to yours.

After a second he pulls back, searching your eyes. You smile and put your hand on the back of his head, pulling him back down. (C/n) brings his hands to your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. For a minute everything else just goes away, leaving the two of you, flowers in your hair, him lying on top of you. His lips are soft and he tastes like fruit.

Finally (c/n) smiles and rolls off of you, lying down next to you. “I should probably let you breathe. It would be sad if you suffocated right before we got rescued.”

“Mhmm,” you agree. You move your hand over and touch his. He twines your fingers together. You lie there in blissful serenity for who knows how long, letting all your worries drift away, simply enjoying each other’s company.

That evening, after you build another fire successfully, you sit together looking out at the water. (C/n) plays with your hair.

“Remember when I got all angry and said we couldn’t be friends.” He makes a face. “I’m sorry. I was being stupid.”

“I know, who wouldn’t want to be friends with me?” you respond jokingly.

“I’m serious. If we get rescued…” he pauses. “When, I mean. When we get rescued…I don’t want to just go our separate ways and never see each other again.”

You look up at him. He hooks an arm under your legs and pulls you into him like a baby. “I don’t care what happens, but I’m not letting you go.”

You smile to yourself. “Good. Cause I don’t plan to go.” You lean against him. “After all we’ve been through, all the trouble I went through to keep you alive, I am not going to let you just walk away. I mean, you owe me, like, a ton,” you add teasingly.

(C/n) chuckles. “Well, good thing we agree.”

You lapse back into comfortable silence. As you look out onto the water, you see a movement, and squint your eyes to see more clearly. You must be hallucinating, because it almost looks like a ship is on the horizon, coming in your direction.

“(C/n),” you say slowly. “Do you see something - over there -” You point, and you hear a sharp intake of breath. “Holy shit, (y/n). That’s a ship.”

You spring into action. “Get a tall branch!” you holler as you search the remaining pile of wood and check to ensure the fire is still going. When (c/n) returns with a long stick, you poke the end of it into the fire, desperately willing it to catch. At last, it does, and you immediately hold it high over your head.

“Get on my shoulders.” (C/n) squats on the ground. You withhold your concerns about weighing too much and climb on, almost dropping the stick in the process. (C/n) stands up slowly, and you manage to cling on, wobbling precariously. You hold up the burning torch and wave it above your head. Smoke rises into the sky. You pray feverishly for someone to notice, and you know (c/n) is doing the same. “Please, please, please,” he mutters. “Come on!” you add under your breath.

The ship continues coming towards you. It gets closer and closer until there is no longer any uncertainty that they’ve seen you. (C/n) kneels back down and lets you slide off, and you cling to each other, watching as an anchor is dropped and a smaller boat is lowered into the water. Tears prick your eyes as you think of home and, for the first time, really consider that you will make it back okay. And no matter what, you will have (c/n) to support you. You hug him tighter and wait for your rescuers to arrive and bring you back to civilization.

Art - Brady Skjei (smut)

Requested by anon: I love your imagines! You write them all so well, (smut ones are on point) could you write one about Brady Skjei by any chance? It can be about anything (and a huge plus if it does have smut…but totally up to you! lol) I just love all your writings!!! Thanks a ton!!!

A/N: You are so sweet! Your message made my day. Let me know what you think about it! Sorry it took so long.

Word count: 1275

Warnings: SMUT. Cursing.

Master list

Originally posted by siriuslyilluminaeted

“Brady, stop moving!” You complain, looking at the piece of paper in front of you.

Maybe this was a bad idea, you think while trying to correct your drawing. This is your last assignment before graduation and you had decided that using your boyfriend as a model would be a good idea; his body is great for drawing since his muscles are very defined and you have seen him naked many times so it wouldn’t be awkward. Brady had agreed to be your model almost instantly, but this has turned to be more difficult that you expected; Brady is a hockey player, not a model, and he can’t stay still for more than a couple minutes.

“I’m not moving!” Brady complains while moving again, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

“Yes, you are!” You say back, looking at how your drawing looks nothing like the man in front of you anymore. “Babe, please.” You whine.

You walk around your easel, padding towards your naked boyfriend. When people learn that you draw naked men you always get asked the same question, can you take your eyes off their junk? Well, the answer is always the same, yes you can.

“Okay, shift your weight.” You instruct, pushing him softly so he moves back to his initial position.

“Do you touch all the models?” He asks, leaving his body limp so you can move it at your will.

“Of course not.” You answer, taking a few steps back to check that the position is right. “They normally don’t move.”

You get on your tippy toes and peck his lips softly before walking away, spanking his ass on your way.

“You are going to be in so much trouble when I can move.” He hisses and you smile, taking your pencil between your fingers and starting to measure

Art makes you happy. You are happy with a pencil in your hand, your hair thrown in a bun that it’s too messy to be called a messy bun and a paper in front of you. It is easy for you to just let go and spend hours working on the little details, and Brady has a lot of little details, from the curve of his biceps to the highs and lows of his abs to the way his Adam’s apple stick out of his neck. You are so deep in your own thoughts that you don’t realize how much time has gone by until Brady starts groaning.

“Can I move now?” He asks and you shoot your head straight up.

“Oh yes, baby. Sorry.” You apologize, your cheeks heating up slightly.

“My muscles are stiff, but let me stretch a little and I can go back to –” He starts saying, but you cut him out quickly.

“No, no, it isn’t necessary. I have a couple details left to do.” You tell him, looking back at your paper.

It isn’t perfect, but you have always thought that a perfect drawing has no personality. Flaws and corrections tell stories, that’s what your grandma said.

“Can I see the masterpiece?” Brady asks, knowing that you hate it when people look at your unfinished work without asking.

You nod and he walks until he is standing behind you, looking at his own body on the paper while you give the final touches. The face features are vague, not revealing who the model is, but you couldn’t stop yourself from sketching his smile quite realistically.

Keep reading

Text Me Not

A/N: So this is my first time writing for Nalu Love Fest! Or anything that was organized lol. This is for Day 7: Sexting, and was super fun to write! This is fairly smutty, though more low-key than usual. But still, smut. College AU!

When the picture loaded, Lucy was glad she was at the back as her face turned into a tomato and she let out a tiny squeak. There on her screen was a picture of Natsu, shirtless and laying on her bed. One arm was tucked behind his head of wild pink hair, a lazy and devilish smirk playing on his lips. The same hooded eyes Lucy had daydreamed about earlier were present, seeming to somehow look at her soul through the screen. He was wearing sweatpants, which were pulling dangerously low and drawing her eyes to muscular and toned chest and stomach. Lucy’s fingers twitched slightly as she remembered how his tan skin moved beneath her fingers, the muscles shifting and flexing in response to her exploring hands. When Lucy finally tore her eyes away from his little display, she saw he had sent a text as well.

N- Still don’t want to play with me?

Pairing: Nalu, Fairy tail

Words: 4841

Rating: M

Part: Oneshot

Lucy sat in her desk, one hand propping up her chin and the other absentmindedly tapping a pencil on her small, university desk. You’d think with how much they charge for tuition they could afford bigger personal desks. Lucy sighed, looking to the people on either side of her. A boy to her right with black hair spiked into a messy look was leaned back in his seat, earbuds in and seemingly trying to count the number of tiles on the ceiling. Either that or he was muttering to himself, which wasn’t entirely impossible. The girl to her left was trying to focus on the dull lecture the professor had broken into, but there just seemed to be a random pattern of scribbles on the side of her lined paper. More than Lucy had written down anyway. Lucy looked down to the front of the room, grateful she had found a desk in the back. The room was full of students like herself, trying unsuccessfully to pay attention to his speech, the monotone lesson on feminism in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein already claiming a number of students as victims to it’s sleep inducing drone. As least at the back she wouldn’t disturb anyone with her snoring.

Lucy’s phone gave a soft buzz, startling her from nearly dozing off. She really needed to be paying attention, regardless of the fact that she had already chosen the book as her main report subject, and had already read, re-read, and analyzed every line in the damn book. Releasing a loud sigh, Lucy hit the home button and her lock screen lit up, showing a text message with the name Natsu Dragneel above it. Quickly unlocking her phone, Lucy read the short text and rolled her eyes at her boyfriend’s whining.

N- Luuccyyyyy I’m bored

Quickly tapping a reply Lucy relocked her phone, barely setting it on the desk before it buzzed again.

L- And I’m in class

N- Come hooooommeeeee :D

Keep reading

addiction-survivor25  asked:

1, 2, 18 & 20? ❤❤

1. “Describe yourself how you would describe a character you’re introducing.”

I’ll do it from Daryl’s perspective:

“Daryl watched as she heaved the axe blade up into the air and slammed it down into the wood. She swore a little as her thumb hit the edge of the piece as it split. Daryl chuckled as she shoved the thumb into her mouth and sucked on it quickly before getting back to work. Daryl loved her stubborn, fiesty nature. She was always her own boss and didn’t take crap from anyone. 

On top of that she also happened to be just about the sweetest flower he had ever known. She was always protecting the women and children too weak to fight on their own in this crap heap of a world. She did whatever she could to keep people safe, including nearly losing her own life a few times. Daryl didn’t like that she was a fighter sometimes, this world could be too dangerous and he loved her too much to watch her die. He didn’t think he could handle that. He pushed those thoughts from his head and smiled larger as he saw her walking toward him.

She dropped the ax and stared into his eyes with one thing on her mind as she walked confidently over to him. He huffed in awe as he took in the beautiful sight of his strong woman coming back home to his arms. She walked right into this body, wrapped her arms around his back, and pressed against him looking up at him with loving need, “I see you staring, Dixon. Let’s go do all those dirty things you want to do to me.”

With that she let go, grabbed his hand, and winked at him as she pulled him toward their cell…”

(a little mini fic there haha)

2. “Is there any specific ritual you go through while/before/after your writing?”

Right now it is just when I have the time, but usually my ritual includes picking a request or having a fantasy of my own and thinking on it for a few days to a week. My fantasy’s I have to create a story around. For the requests the story is sort of already loosely built so that framework helps.

I usually work on a fic a few chunks at a time it probably takes me 2-3 days (without work) to work on one story. But other than that I have always just been the dive right in type of writer. It usually flows pretty easily, I have always had that *ability* to just type up things without much framework. In fact, the more freedom the better for me. I was always the one leaving a ten page paper till the last minute and throwing it together the night before. lol. 

18. “How old were you when you started writing?”

I used to right some Pacey x Joey fic when I was 16. I would say around 15-16 is when I really started to write. I was really into song lyrics too when I was younger, I wrote a lot of lyrics as well as some fic. This is the first time I’ve written so much smut, I might have written one or two when I was younger but if I did I never published it. 

So Norman/Daryl gets the recognition for me writing this smut and publishing it. That damn man is too hot! Thanks for the smutty inspiration Norman! ;)

20. “ 4 sentences from your work that you’re proud of.”

hmm I have a few scenes I like I’ll share those.

1. All of You Pt 4 [x]

“You feel your entire body screaming with anxiety as your heart races and you force your body forward, dropping out of the truck and slamming your feet onto the pavement. You looked over at Daryl and he puffed his chest out, telling you that you two were strong together and that everything would be okay. Your eyes get harder as you take a deep breathe, square your feet, and turn to look at the man they called Rick.

You stand shoulder to shoulder with Daryl, with his hand over yours, protectively, as you feel and hear the wind whipping around your mangled hair and over your body as it rushes past. You stare into Rick’s eyes and you suddenly feel like you are being examined as his eyes searched yours. You shift awkwardly as his head slightly cocks to the side his eyes still searching yours. You stand there squaring your shoulders and holding yourself dominantly back to the man as your hair whips violently in the wind.

You feel Daryl squeeze your hand, trying to support you, as he stared straight ahead at Rick, same stance as you, awaiting his reaction.”

(I love writing the reader shoulder to shoulder with Daryl, as if they are equals, not her cowering behind him. You probably notice this theme in my stories a lot with the strong female characters)

Dirty Thoughts [x]

“You step outside and you can see the dim streetlight as it emanates down the road of Alexandria. Your boots hit the wooden surface of the deck, as you walk out onto it. You didn’t see Daryl anywhere, you sighed to yourself, and your body slumped down a little.

“Hey Y/N.” You hear his sexy, low growl and turn to your right, where the sound is coming from.

You see Daryl sitting on the bench located all the way at the other end of the deck, in the corner. The light did not reach his shadowy figure and all you saw was the outline of his body and a burning red cherry, coming from his cigarette. It burned hotter as he inhaled, you hear him breathe out and see a plume of smoke coming out from the shadows, as he blew it toward you.

“Hey.” You say, nervously, as you forced your feet to move over to his side of the deck. 

The closer you got the clearer the image of him becomes. He has one of his feet up on the bench, as he sits relaxed, leaning against the back wall of the deck. You move closer and you can see his eyes as they watch you walk slowly over to him, he looks you up and down again, making you almost forget your nerves.”

(I loved the image of him sitting in the shadows and only being able to see his outline and the cherry of his cigarette).

Happy Birthday Daryl [x]

“Suddenly you smile to yourself, “I know what will get you up…” You say to Daryl, who can’t hear you. You shimmy off the bed and grab the sheet that covered you both all night and ripped it off the bed. You stare down at Daryl’s body, down his big bare chest, to his black jeans, all the way down to his legs and his bare feet. He slept with his arms at his sides palms up, his eyes twitched a little as he began to come out of his sleep.

You quickly reached down and unbutton his pants and unzip them. You try and wiggle the pants down his hips from the odd angle you stand at beside the bed. You twist your body and grunt a little bit trying to pull the pants off him.

You hear Daryl clear his throat and freeze, your hands on his hips, you slowly look back at him, and see him grinning from ear to ear as he pulls his hands behind his head, looking down at you trying to undress him.

“Somethin’ you need?” He asked cockily smirking and wiggle his hips in your hands.

You smirk and lick your lips, “Actually, it was something I wanted to give you. It’s your birthday after all.” You smile seductively and turn your gaze back down to his pants.

“Damn. Alright.” He said, lifting his hips in the air, “Go ahead, baby.”…”

(omfg can you imagine him walking up to you trying to give him a blow job? Too hot an image so this makes the list!)

4. Teach Me [x]

“Suddenly he moves his body up and over yours, forcing you to lay on your back. You peer at him in shock and watch as he gentle presses his right hand down on your sternum, holding you to the ground.

“What if I were a walker? What would you do?” He asked, as you struggle a little under his hand.

Your eyes close, trying to focus, this was another test. You think back to the training you had been giving and move your left arm up swiftly, pushing it hard against Daryl’s arm restraining you, forcing his grip off you. You roll to your right a few times and force your body to your feet, fists raised.

Daryl rolls over and crawls his way slowly to his feet, swinging his arms, and staring at you, a small smile never leaving his lips.

“Good.” He says as enthusiastically as Daryl Dixon can and he nods his head up at you.

“Now… Come at me.” He raises his arms and juts his fingers up and down, gesturing to you.

You dig your heels into the ground and nod your head, determined to do good. You sprint forward and slam your body into his, using both hands to push him to the ground. You both fall and you land hard on top of him, your hands bracing against his chest. You hear the thud, but neither of you feel the fall thanks to the pure adrenaline running through both your veins. You feel his hands quickly come up to your hips and harshly pull them as he pivots his body around, turning you onto your back and pushing you hard into the ground. You cry out in pleasure, feeling his hands force your body into the ground with so much pressure.

He looks at you and curiously cocks his head to the side, smirking. Had he heard you cry out for him? He stares down at you and you look back at him licking your lips a little as you feel his body straddling yours. You look down at his hips on yours and then stare up into his eyes with longing. He nods and swoops down, crashing his lips onto yours.

You feel his tongue as it grazes harshly across your bottom lip and then across your top, you cry out again and arch your body up into him, opening your mouth to him. You close your eyes and he watches you cry out. He growls and you feel it all through his body as he presses against you, you feel his hips press hard into yours moan again. He plunges his tongue into your awaiting mouth and swirls his tongue harshly around your mouth, capturing your tongue and making love to it. You feel his hand come up and cup the side of your face, pushing you into him harder. You swirl your tongue around his faster in response to his urgency.

He groans a little and presses his hold body onto you even harder, thrusting his hips up into your core, watching for your reaction. You smile a little, your eyes still closed, stopping your tongue for a moment. He smirked and did it again a few more times, watching you come undone a little. Your hair harshly rubs into the grass as you feel his hips grind you into the ground a few times. His tongue swirls around yours a few more times as both of his hands cup your face and pull you into him. He quickly exists your mouth putting a little kiss onto the tip of your nose. He leans up and peers down at you with a mischievous smile.

“What if I were a walker?…” He shifts his weight, pushing his groin into yours holding into you. “…What would you do?” He asked, smirking at you.

You moan a little to yourself, loving the feeling of him pressing himself into you and then look up at him, smiling a devilish smile. In one quick motion you lean your knee up and gently graze his thighs apart from inside them and swirl your body around, pushing him down onto the ground beneath you, your hands pushing his chest down as hard as you could. You breathe heavily as you feel the lust and adrenaline pump through your body. You grind your hips into his a little bit and watch as his eyes turn to you lowly looking like he had a bunch of naughty intentions. His hands grazed up your thighs and roamed to your hips, his right hand moved lower and grabbed the side of your ass harshly. You writhe your hips into him in response, straddling him as the sunset glow appeared on both your bodies.

You look down at him as you grind your hips into his, you feel his throbbing cock beneath his pants and sigh a little in response.

“What are you going to teach me now?” You ask lowly, riding him into the grass.

He smirks and grabs your ass harder, pushing you into him harsher as you grind into him.

“Baby? I got all kinds of things to teach you.” He emphasized your name and you became even wetter.

Suddenly his right hand came back to your hip and both hands swirled you around, his body pushing you both over in another somersault, him landing back on top of you. He grabs your wrists and harshly pushed them both up above your head, holding you into the ground. He positions his legs so he is straddling you, his clothed cock pressing into your core. You writhe up into his hips, staring at him with longing…”

(I love writing these types of smut pieces where Daryl can play roughly with the reader, I think he’d love to be able to push and pull someone around who was just as strong as he is. I loved this entire fic actually a lot of action description with I also love to do).

Honorable Mention - I’m Home Baby [x]

“He slowly climbed in and under the sheet. He laid sideways with his right elbow propping up his body. He stared over at you, now so close to him, he could feel your body’s warmth as he scooted his body closer and closer, until his forearm met your shoulder. He towered over your sleeping face as he slowly reached his left hand over to your body and shoved it under your tank top, landing on your soft stomach. He swirled his hand over your skin, as he looked down at your face, which turned into a smile the minute his skin made contact with yours.

He smiled at you lovingly at your reaction and quickly swooped down to give you an innocent kiss on the nose, before slowly moving his lips down to yours. His lips gave yours a soft, gentle kiss hello, and continued down the side of your neck, leaving kisses all the way up to your ear, meanwhile his hand started to venture north.

“I’m home, baby… Wake up…” He said huskily into your ear, before taking your earlobe into his mouth and biting it a little, trying to awake you.

“Mmmm…” Your mouth and body react to his lips and you slowly start shaking your head, starting to break away from your slumber.

“That’s right, baby… Wake up for me, I need you…” He purred again into your ear, before crashing his lips and tongue down onto the sweet spot behind it, the one he knew you loved.  

He began to suck and swirl around your skin, causing shivers to explode onto it. He smiled at your body’s reaction and bit your neck a little, in reaction. He worked his lips up and down your neck as his hand ventured up toward your breasts, lovingly taking each one of them on thrill ride after thrill ride, trying his hardest to wake you up.

“Oh god!” You groan out as his tongue and his hand work on you, roughly.

Suddenly, your eyes pop open and you notice you are breathing heavily, your heart racing, so fucking turned on. Your eyes squint as they hit  the harsh light from hallway, you close them for a second, blinding yourself. Your brain slowly awakens and you smile to yourself as you begin to feel him all over you. Norman was home. Your confused eyes turn to happiness as your brain slowly identifies his tongue on your neck and his hand on your breasts, your eyes begin to focus and you lovingly reach your right hand over and put it in his hair, gently massaging it as a thank you for his actions.

Norman bites your skin at your touch and swiftly detaches his mouth from you. He leans up and over your face, smiling tenderly down at you with nothing but love and longing.

“Hey, baby.” He said softly as he looked down into your eyes, he was so happy to be home and in your arms again.”

(I really love this one. Imagine Norman trying to wake you up and being so fucking turned out that you were dreaming about him? I could! Love this one and my first ever Norman smut piece!)

I honestly love all the stories it is hard to pick just 4. Thanks for the ask @addiction-survivor25 ! Hope I did it justice! Stay Smutty! haha 

Originally posted by fifty-shades-of-mara

boyfriend!Chani

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Gender Neutral

(Sorry, I got kinda carried away with this one… lol)

This is purely based on my own personal opinions. Agree or disagree, either way, enjoy!

Originally posted by sf9fantasy

- I see Chani as the type to (over time) fall for one of his really good friends

- Very playful (both before and after you two are in a relationship)

- Once he starts to realize his newfound feelings for you, he desperately tries not to let it effect the way he acts in front of you

- But fails miserably

- Where he used to jokingly smack, poke and ruffle your hair without a second thought, he’s now constantly hesitant to touch you in the slightest way

- The stronger his feelings get, the more awkward he becomes

- “Chan, hurry! The movies starting!”

- “O-Ok, coming.”

- “Chani… Why are you sitting all the way on the other side of the couch…?”

- “What? Um, I-I don’t know. I just kinda sat down…” *nervous giggle*

- You were probably the first one to confess

- And tbh he was a little disappointed he didn’t man up and make the first move

- But still happy that you’re his, nonetheless

- Being the maknae means he’s constantly babied by his hyungs

- So I see him wanting to be the “manly, dominant, caretaker” type of role in the relationship

- He’s been babied enough, now he needs someone to baby 

- Not one who’s into PDA

- Especially in front of his hyungs… That’s a big no-no

- The most you’ll get is holding hands, a quick hug, a guide hand on your lower back or the occasional kiss on top of the head

-But behind closed doors…

- That’s another story

- He literally clings onto you like his life depends on it

- Another lover of backhugs, especially giving them

- His arms are wrapped around your waist, head resting on your back as the two of you waddle in circles around the kitchen in silence

- Pet names is an iffy topic

- I can see him loving it when you nonchalantly call him cute little nicknames like “baby,” “babe,” “love,” etc.

- But I see him being hesitant to return the term of endearment

- It’s not at all that he doesn’t love you enough

- It’s just gonna take him some time to muster up the courage

- And when he finally does, it’ll come out in a broken stutter

- “Chan, can you grab me one of your sweatshirts? I’m absolutely freezing!”

- “Okay,” *pause* “b-babe…”

- *Turns around and books it up the stairs*

- You know exactly why he fled so quickly

- And all you do is sit there and laugh to yourself at how absolutely adorable your boyfriend is

- I feel like the first “I love you” would be an accident

- The alarm clock roared to life at 4 o’clock in the morning, as it usually did

- You waited for Chani to hop in the shower, and instead of going back to bed, like you normally would, you crawled out of bed and headed for the kitchen

- You heard the shower shut off just as you had finished making Chani’s breakfast

- You put the food in their containers, placed them into a paper bag, and even wrote Chani a little encouraging note to go with it

- He walked into the kitchen and gave you an utterly confused look as he asked why you were awake

- “I felt like making you breakfast!”

- You said with a smile, as you held in a yawn trying to force its way out of you

- “You’re the best! Thank you so much, babe”

- He kissed you on the cheek as he mentally praised himself for his burst of confidence

- He grabbed the bag and headed for the door

- “I gotta go! I’ll text you during our breaks. I should be home around noon? I’m not sure, but I’ll keep you updated. I love you, bye!”

- He mindlessly shouted as you smiled to yourself, yelling an “I love you, too” back his way

- He nearly dropped the bag as he turned to face you, wide-eyed and jaw hanging open

- “Did I just… Did you just… Did we just…”

- He rambles on as you make your way over to him

- You grab hold of his face and pull him into a quick, passionate kiss

- You pull back, locking eye contact with him

- “I don’t know if you meant it, but I did. I really do love you, Kang Chanhee”

- He looked down as he tried to hide the smirk on his face, accidentally letting a giggle slip past his lips

- “I was actually supposed to say that in my head… And even though that’s not at all how I planned for that situation to go - I love you, too”

- He embraces you in one last hug before leaving for practice, as giddy as a kid on Christmas morning

- Despite being very mature for his age, he’s still a kid

- Which means pretty much everything is all “fun and games” between you two

- ALWAYS challenging you and trying to egg you on

- “At least I can dance better than you”

- “Oh yeah, well I have better abs than you”

- “I bet you can’t rap to this song as good as I can”

- Fake wrestling is a personal favorite of his, (and secretly yours, too)

- Because you both know he’s stronger than you, but he loves seeing you struggle to free yourself from his strong hold

- And honestly, you love being trapped under his steel grasp

- After rolling around the floor for what felt like hours, you lay under Chani’s muscular build, still trapped, as the two of you pant in silence, both trying to catch your breath

- It isn’t until you two lock eyes that he realizes your disheveled appearance, tangled hair and chest heaving with every deep breath you take

- As you take in his equally disarranged state, veins bulging out of his neck, hair falling into his eyes as beads of sweat trickle down the sides of his face

- He glances at your parted lips as he ever so slowly leans down towards your face

- Excitement bubbles in your stomach as what feels like entire minutes pass as you wait for your lips to finally meet

- Before you know it, the two of you are engaged in a heated makeout session, hands threaded in his hair as your mouths work wonders against each other’s

- But much to your dismay, your intimate moments is cut short when you hear the door to the dorm being unlocked

- Causing Chani to literally fly off of you across the room

- You remain sprawled out on the floor, grunting to yourself, as you mentally curse out the other boys for returning home so soon

Talk it Out - Shelby!reader

Mum’s the Word | Talk it Out 

Grace waited until the festivities were over and the evening quieted down before she brought up the topic of you with him. She didn’t know if it was her place to say anything about the somewhat strained relationship between you and your father but she was his wife now and she felt it her duty to you as mother-figure to address the issue. She found her husband having a cigarette in the study and considered how alike you both looked for the second time that evening.  

“Tommy,” she called him, to catch his attention.  

He looked over at her, it was the first time all night she didn’t look exuberantly happy.  

“I think you should talk to your daughter.” She stated, trying to sound authoritative.  

“Grace…”

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