She's-touching-me

NEWSFLASH

you guys managed to change my ideas for my character Adiv. Her Unexpected popularity here still baffles me as she was supposed to be a secondary character, a purely supporting character, but after the only two drawings I have of her here exploded in popularity (both posted in JANUARY).

So, the big thing is, I’m giving her a bigger role! You guys’ love to her amazed me and touched me! She’s becoming a main character in the overall plot! Thanks to your attention, she’s now going to have a bigger place in the spotlight! Get ready for some full on painting drawings starring her!

What she says: I’m fine

What she means: Kaz “don’t touch me or I’ll rip your arm out of it’s socket” Brekker really pushed through his PTSD and severe phobia of skin to skin contact all so he could help Inej change the bandages on her arms. And he didn’t even have to do it, there were others there that could have helped her out. But he forced himself to do it because he wanted to show her that he was willing to bring his walls down for her, not just so he could touch her but so he could open his heart to her too. She told him she would take all of him or none of him, and he was trying to show her that he would try his hardest to be the man she needed him to be 

it would be really nice if rosa had a girlfriend and she was small and geeky and one day she came to the precinct and hands rosa a coffee and they hold hands for a second and then jake looks at rosa and is like whaaaaaaat you let her touch you??? and rosa is just like yeah and she let me touch her last night and amy just drops her coffee over her keyboard

i have fallen out of love with my art, or else she has fallen out of love with me. how pretty she was outside, when she touched every part of me. how selfish i was to kiss her, to take her in. i should have enjoyed her slowly. there had been so much hiding between her shoulder blades and i devoured her in wolfbites. or else i was never hers. i know this, logically. she loves others so easily. but i always feel special when she honors me. if she honors me, and doesn’t just fuck me. what i’m saying is nothing i write is beautiful and i can’t stop thinking you didn’t mean it when you kissed me. what i’m saying is that you’re beautiful and now my writing looks ugly. what i’m saying is that i’m worried anything i write won’t be good enough to look at. the ink is gone. don’t come for me.

Mock up the courage

Bucky x reader

Notes: fluff, just pure fluff. 

A/N: Bucky is tired and needy and just wants to cuddle. (who. fuckin’. wouldn’t?!)

Originally posted by sebastianobrien

If there was ever something more adorable than Bucky being tired or in any way not feeling well, you’d never seen it. Now, the serum made sure he was never not feeling well, but it didn’t help exhaustion after a week long mission with only 2 hours of sleep a day.

This is why he came stumbling into your floor, somehow overriding every security protocol with his left over spy-skills, calling out your name at two in the morning.

Actually, it was more like a drawn out whine.

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kiirdonel  asked:

RFA+V+Saeran with an MC who touches them distractedly a lot, like not in a sexual way or a ticklish way, but just absentmindedly touching their skin as if it's physically comforting for the MC to know the one they love is right beneath their fingertips. If you've got too many, don't worry about it though. ^-^

I feel like some of this is very close to the fine line between ‘cute and soft’ and ‘cheesy and cringey’  so I guess I’ll leave it to you guys to decide which side of the line it’s on lol


Yoosung:

  • he finds it oddly intimate
  • every time you do it his entire body heats up with a weird kind of mix between embarrassment and pride
  • she’s touching me she loves me
  • it really helps to calm his anxieties about not being good enough for you
  • he especially likes it when you do it in public, because it shows everyone that you belong to each other and that you’re not ashamed to be with him
  • it always sends tingles throughout his body and makes him shiver in the best way
  • he probably gets all sulky if you haven’t done it in a while, or didn’t do it for as long that time
  • he just really likes how it feels ok

Zen:

  • he thinks it’s super adorable
  • it makes him grin like an idiot whenever he feels you doing it
  • he’ll often do it back in response because he loves the innocence of the whole thing
  • he’s sometimes worried it’ll awaken ‘the beast’ but honestly, it never usually does
  • it’s too soft and pure and he doesn’t want to corrupt that
  • the most it ever leads to is a soft kiss, because it makes his heart swell with love and sometimes he can’t resist it
  • it makes him feel so fuzzy

Jaehee:

  • she’s really not used to affectionate physical contact, and so it surprises her at first
  • she might jump a little when she feels it the first few times because she isn’t expecting it
  • you instantly apologise and say it’s just a habit you have with people you care about
  • and she’s like… me?! you care about me?!
  • once she’s used to it, it soothes her a hell of a lot
  • if she’s ever stressed over something all she has to do is sit with you for a little while and feel your fingers dancing over her skin and it’ll calm her down
  • she kind of melts into it when it happens, because she’s never felt this loved in her entire life

Jumin:

  • every time he feels your fingers brushing against him, it makes his heart leap a little
  • he’s not used to this kind of loving touch
  • whenever women have flirted with him before, they touched him in an awkward, flirty way, but this is different
  • he didn’t realise that a simple touch could feel so good
  • you often don’t notice when you’re doing it, and he never points it out because he doesn’t want you to get embarrassed and stop
  • he’s never quite sure how to respond to it, because he doesn’t have much experience with this kind of thing
  • so he settles for just closing his eyes and allowing himself to let down his guard for little while

707:

  • the first few times it happens he kind of tenses up and freezes
  • he’s not used to any kind of physical contact with people, and he doesn’t feel like he deserves your affection
  • you usually don’t notice his strange reaction, so you continue
  • after a few moments he relaxes into it, and every time it happens he gradually gets more and more comfortable
  • and he finds that he actually really loves it, because it shows that you genuinely do love him, which is always something he worries about
  • he worries he’s not good enough for you and that you’ll get sick of him, but this helps him forget that
  • it helps calm him down and focus on nothing but you for a few moments
  • it’s like you guys are the only people in the entire universe
  • and he ends up finding himself subconsciously picking up the habit too
  • he loves the physical contact and the constant reminder you’re here with him

Saeran:

  • at first it makes him jump every time you touch him
  • he’s kind of twitchy and definitely not used to gentle, physical contact
  • he knows you don’t do it on purpose, and honestly he’s not entirely sure how he feels about it at first
  • he tries to put up with it because he doesn’t want to make you feel bad about it, and he kind of wants to figure out how it makes him feel
  • eventually, after he manages to push past the initial anxiety, he realises it’s actually kind of… nice
  • your touch is never harsh or aggressive, and so this gives him a taste of the kind of human contact he isn’t used to
  • he never knows how to respond, and usually just sits there while you do it, totally hyperaware of every movement
  • it sends his brain into overdrive every time
  • he really doesn’t feel like he deserves any kind of love
  • and he’s always been scared of abandonment, but whenever you do it he questions how he could possibly ever be scared of you leaving

V:

  • he’s big on touch too
  • and as it turns out, he has pretty much the same habit
  • whenever you’re near each other, you’re always touching in some way
  • maybe he’ll be stroking your thigh and you’ll be tracing patterns on his arm
  • he loves it because of how intimate it feels, and it also reassures him that you’re there and that you love him
  • it helps soothe him whenever he’s feeling down
  • and it helps him realise that there are different kinds of love in the world
  • strong and trusting love with Jumin, fast-paced and intense love with Rika, complicated and fragile love with Saeyoung, and then soft, gentle and pure love with you
  • neither of you really notice when it’s happening
  • it’s only once it’s stopped that you feel the absence of it
When I fall in love I hope she reminds me of blueberries-
I hope she stains my way of thinking
Along with every part of me she touches
I hope she leaves my skin soaked in such a majestic violet
She makes the galaxies overflowing with shades of
Mauve, sunflower yellow, and ocean blues look bad.
I hope when she lies next to me
The rhythm of her breathing
Will remind me what it feels like to be reckless and free
I hope she evokes such a natural energy inside of me
That my insides become her canvas
And she gets lost in the art she’s created underneath my rib cage
I hope every time she talks I’ll forget what she looks like
Because in 20 years it’ll be her mind I fell for,
Not the way her nose crinkles when she smiles
Or the way her eyes light up when she’s happy
I hope that she stains my soul in a beautiful lilac
So I never forget how brilliantly we burned
If she doesn’t stick around
—  Don’t be fooled I’m still a fuck boi
Hold On (trigger warning)

A/N: I’m in Prague with a friend this week and I put this on schedule so lets hope it works.
Requested to use the line “because I love you, that’s why.” Be aware this has a trigger warning, so think twice before reading. Also, I would love to hear feedback on this because I am honestly so fucking nervous.

Word count: 2,638

Hearing someone you love cry, is probably the worst feeling ever. The worst kind of pain I’ve ever experienced. I felt her pain. Deep in my chest. In every fibre of my body. With every dense heart beat. I felt it. Hearing her desperate sore cries from the other side of the door, it killed me inside. Left me numb and frozen.

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Take a Chance

The gifset of Dean giving himself that little pep talk from 7x04 inspired me to write this. Dean x Reader, Dean’s POV. Hope you like :)

For fuck’s sake, Dean, you’ve done this a thousand times. You can charm a woman without even breaking a sweat. Why are you so damn nervous?

Because, dumbass, it’s Y/N. This time it’s not some random bar chick that I’ll probably never lay eyes on again. And I don’t want to mess things up. I don’t want to do something that’ll make everything all awkward.

I just want… I just want to be with her. Whatever that means. And I don’t even know how to say that without making things all fucking weird.

Just tell her the truth. Well, the surface truth. Say you’re bored. Take a chance.

She doesn’t need to know you hate being in a separate room from her, that you miss being around her. That you feel not all there when she’s not around, like a piece is missing. That you’re dying to touch her. Like really touch her.

Okay. Here’s her door. Just heard a noise, so you know she’s awake. So knock already.

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Touch

I used to work at the museum as the guy that told people not to touch the mummies. It was normally easy because most people are respectful or too stupid to realize that the mummies could be touched, but one old woman came in every year on the same day and made my job tough. She wore a shirt that said “#1 Mummy Toucher” and didn’t even look at the other exhibits, even though we had some cool ones like King Arthur’s round tablecloth and Kennedy’s novel about the Matrix. This woman would hop right over the velvet “do not hop over” rope and make a bee-line for the most touchable mummy. One year I was a step ahead of her and dressed up as that mummy, so when she went to touch me I grabbed her hand and said, “Don’t touch the mumm-ME!” and laughed and laughed. She didn’t think it was very funny though and had a big heart attack and died on the spot. I didn’t want to get in trouble so I threw her into one of the empty mummy sarcophagi. I think she’s still there today. Anyway, obviously I got promoted from that job to tour guide, so if you’ll follow me, we’ll check out Kennedy’s novel that caused the Wachowskis to kill him.

Fantasizing about boys felt like a healing paper cut: uncomfortable, but manageable.
While imagining a future with a man I mistook the relief of companionship for romance, and the anxiety for chemistry.
When I pictured him saying ‘you’re mine’, it felt like being trapped, too possessive, I did not want my heart stolen but at least being kept in a cage would keep me safe.
Dreaming about kissing boys seemed acquiescent, as long as my eyes were glued shut the entire time. This was love, right?

When I saw her for the first time I was mesmerized and I have never wanted to give up custody of my own heart more;
She felt like home, like freedom, and all the discomfort I had assumed was natural melted, just like I did whenever she touched me.
Her laughter reminded me why the earth revolved around the sun and when we kissed it felt like I had found the world’s greatest treasure without even searching for it.
When I imagine a lifetime with her it doesn’t feel cumbersome anymore and I realize it was meant to feel this way all along.

I Like It When You Do That (Isaac Lahey)

Originally posted by teenwolf--imagines

Summary: However this ends, he’s a fool if he does nothing or a fool if he gives into the sweetness of temptation.

Author’s Note: I’m glad I’m finally done with this story. I had debated on a while on how far to take this. But I’m glad that I decided to push the envelope and go all the way with the smut. Enjoy!


Nights like this were always innocent.

They would curl up under the covers of her bed and watch movies until they both fell asleep. Suspicions never rose when they spent hours together behind her bedroom door; often times it wouldn’t open until the early hours of the morning and it was time for Isaac to leave so he could head home to get ready for school. It was entirely innocent…until it wasn’t. Her parents should have expected that it would turn out that way eventually.

The night starts out like every other one. They had watched two movies and thirty minutes into the third (some French film remake with an obscenely long title), she was sound asleep. The movie was a thriller; it was on the subtler side but the heroine was hot and that kept his attention mostly.

Then there was a sex scene. Of course there was a sex scene. Not that he was complaining too much. The guy okay looking, but seeing the actress naked, enjoying being eaten out, being thrust into from behind—the whole scene made his cock twinge with desire.

Isaac feels a shift beside him. Looking down, he sees [Name] burrowing herself further into the covers of her bed. Lying on her side with one arm tucked under the pillow and her legs pulled towards her stomach, she looked like an angel. She looked so peaceful (and not his girl) and there was a desire in his blood to touch her. It should never have been a thought that entered his mind. It was wrong. She was his friend and asleep, and he was turned on by a movie. He should have just gone to bathroom to jack off. Isaac licks his lips as his eyes travel across her sleeping form.

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Winchesters in Riverdale (Part Three)

After a hunt gone wrong, Y/N Winchester, the 17 year old half-sister of Sam and Dean Winchester, her older brothers, and Castiel are transported to Riverdale, a town in a different universe. While Sam, Dean, and Castiel attempt to find a way back home, Y/N struggles to fit in in community of Riverdale. In a universe with no monsters to worry about, there’s so many questions that need answering.

Can she ever try to be normal after hunting for all of her life? Who’s the good-looking, mystical teen with the beanie who’s always at that diner? And will anyone discover that secret she’s been hiding for the last year and a half?

Gif by @riverdalebish

Prologue

Part One

Part Two

—————

As you walked to school the next morning, you looked around at the small town of Riverdale. The walk was a little more than half a mile and you had left early in order to get a head start. You pulled your school schedule from your jacket pocket, rereading it again. You tried to memorize it, not really keen on looking like the clueless new kid roaming the halls. You would be a perfect target for someone to rush over and try and help you. And you didn’t want that. They may mean well, but you weren’t there to make friends. As soon as your brothers and Castiel figured out how to get home, you were out of there. Best not to get close to anyone in the meantime. Despite your intention to memorize your schedule, you found yourself staring off into space as you walked, replaying the events of the previous night.

You had arrived back at the motel a little over two hours after you had left it. When you returned, your brothers and Castiel were waiting for you anxiously. Dean had gotten you your favorite food, Chinese takeout, but you weren’t in the mood for it. Before you could mumble out a “No, thanks,” Sam held out a motel key for you. You were confused until he told you that they rented out the room next door for you. Just for you. Said that you probably didn’t want to be cramped up in a room with your brothers and an angel. You took the key with a silent “thank you,” gathering your backpack (which had been filled when you were gone with the supplies Dean and Cas got you,) and walked out of the motel room without another word, ignoring the bag of Chinese food in Dean’s hand. When you entered the room next door, you saw that a wide variety of tank tops and tee shirts along with three pairs of jeans and multiple plaid jackets were all folded up on your bed.

Castiel.

Castiel knew what had happened with you. Why you were gone for the last year. He didn’t tell Sam or Dean about it, and he didn’t ever question you about it. And for that you were thankful. When you were ready, if you would ever be ready, he would be there to talk to you. In the months since you’d been back, he’d do little things for you, whether it was making your bed or trying to cook you your favorite food every once in a while. In this case, it was getting you clothes for the days or even weeks that would follow. You debated going back into your brothers’ motel room to thank the angel, but decided you’d just tell him tomorrow instead. You kicked your shoes off, and gently placed all the folded up clothes on the ground so they wouldn’t get messed up as you slept. You crawled under the covers, sleep quickly claiming you.

You sighed as you recalled the way you had snapped at Sam the night before. You knew he was only trying to help. But you didn’t want help. You didn’t need help. If you could handle what you went through in the last year, you could handle the aftermath.

But could you?

Eventually you came to the front of Riverdale High, stopping and looking at it and all the kids hanging out outside of it. You took a deep breath and continued on, walking through the doors. Immediately you felt everyone’s eyes on you as you entered the main hallway. You held your head high and marched onto your first class which was English. The bell rang just as you walked into the class only to find that everyone was in their seats. All the students quieted down, looking at you. Before you could look around to see who was in your class, the teacher called your name.

“Hello there! Y/N, right?” she asked.

You nodded. The older woman smiled brightly as she got up and made her way over to you.

Don’t touch me, don’t touch me, don’t touch me—

She reached out and gently held your arm.

Oh God, why?!

“Welcome to Riverdale, sweetheart,” she said softly.

You forced a smile for her although it looked more like a grimace and she turned to the class.

“Class, this is Y/N Winchester. She’s new so I expect you to do your best to make her feel welcome here,”

She turned back to you again.

“Y/N, why don’t you take a seat next to Jughead over there?”

You furrowed your brows.

Jughead?

Your teacher pointed to an empty seat in the back and it was only then that you saw the familiar blue-green eyes staring back at you from the seat next to it.

Oh, not him!

You internally groaned as you made your way over to the empty chair, making sure to avoid eye contact with this kid, this… Jughead. You took your seat, forcing your eyes to stay on your teacher. Why did you have to be seated next to the one and only guy at Riverdale High who couldn’t stop staring at you at that diner?

English class was a slow blur, but you managed not to look at Jughead the entire time. The bell rang and you had just put your notebook away when you heard a voice next to you speak.

“Hey, Y/N, right?”

You sighed, closing your eyes. You really did not want to deal with this today. Or any day for that matter. You placed your pencil case in your backpack, zipping the bag up.

“How can I help you?” you responded coolly, not bothering to look up at the boy.

“Actually, I was going to ask how could I help you?” he offered.

At his comment, you looked up at the standing teen from your chair.

“What?” you asked bewildered.

Jughead smirked.

“Your next class. Need someone to show you around?” he asked.

You quickly shook your head.

“No,” you said bluntly as you got up, swinging your bag over your shoulder. “I got a map,” you lied. “I can figure it out myself.”

Jughead’s smirk fell at your tone and he rose his eyebrow.

“Are you sure? I mean, it can get a little—”

“Positive,” you said, cutting him off. “Thanks anyway.”

With that, you walked out of the classroom, not bothering to look back. You felt a little guilty at your brazenness but quickly pushed it aside. What did it matter anyway? You’d be leaving this town, this universe soon enough. What was the point in making friends now?

You had managed to get to the majority of your classes without any problems. You had been late by a couple minutes to your Chemistry class, but had gotten a free pass since it was your first day. Before you knew it, it was lunchtime and you were outside, looking for a place to sit. Ignoring the people staring at you from the lunch tables, you walked over to a small oak tree. Putting your backpack down, you took a seat against the tree, pulling out from your bag an apple Sam had given you for lunch and Oedipus Rex from your mythology class. You had just opened the book and taken a bite out of your apple when you heard someone make their way over to you.

“This seat taken?” the familiar voice asked, pointing the spot in front of you.

Oh, hell no.

You looked up at the smirking sophomore in disbelief.

This guy just didn’t know when to stop.

“Are you looking to get hit or something?” you asked, glaring at him. “Because I can help you with that.”

Jughead rolled his eyes.

“Nah, that’s more of Archie’s job.” he joked, and turned around to point with his free hand at the table of teens that were in the diner yesterday staring at you.

They were still staring at you, except this time they smiled at you.

“See? He’s the one wearing the letterman jacket.”

You didn’t return their smiles and instead looked back down at your book.

“He looks like a douche.” you said.

Jughead snorted.

“You’re not exactly wrong there,” he agreed. “But he’s still a good person. So are Betty and Veronica. You’d like them if you gave them a chance.”

“I’m not here to make friends.” you answered back.

“Does this mean I can’t sit here then?” he questioned.

You looked at the teen again, eyeing him up and down.

You sighed.

“You gonna stare at me again like you did yesterday?” you asked.

Jughead chuckled.

“You gonna let me?” he asked back.

This time you smirked, the corners of your mouth turning up for the first time all day.

“Touché.” you said and nodded towards the patch of green grass in front of you.

Jughead took the offer, sitting down.

“This doesn’t make us friends. “ you quickly clarified.

Jughead bit back a grin and settled for a straight face instead.

“I understand.”

You nodded and silence enveloped the two of you. You turned your gaze back to your book, hiding your smile behind the pages.

Maybe one friend wouldn’t hurt.

—————

A/N: Next chapter she meets the gang! That’s where the real fun begins. ;) Any theories of what the reader’s secret is? I feel like I might’ve made it too obvious, but oh well! As always, hope you enjoyed it, and please send me feedback!!

Taglist

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TITLE: Your Past Does Not Define You

IMAGINE: It was no secret that Bucky hated his past, how he regrets being the Winter Soldier. What happens when he meets someone that can change his mind? 

[gif is not mine. requests are open. let me know what you think] 

warnings: swear words, brief harassment, small violence. 

word count: 2.4k +


‘He had built up walls for years, keeping everyone out. Then she came into his life and with a touch of her finger the walls crumbled into ashes.’


Everyone knew that Bucky wasn’t one to converse with anyone, to talk to anyone let alone spend a minute in a room with someone that wasn’t Steve. He grunted and nodded, but no actual words ever came out of his mouth. He kept quiet, he kept to himself. No one really knew him, Steve did, but still…There were some things that he kept to himself, things that kept him up at night -waking from his nightmares, knives sheathed out panicking and looking around the room. He hated himself, he hated that he caused a war within a group, forcing everyone to take sides. Even years later when everything was settled, he still felt guilty thus he kept to himself. Maybe, just maybe if he didn’t speak and just did what everyone wanted him to do he could chip away the guilt.


He remembers the day vividly, it’s as if it’s a movie in his head, one that he can replay over and over again. He can pick out the exact moment that he knew in himself that she was going to change him.


“(Y/N), you have to be calm when you meet them, okay kid?” Tony looked over the kid next to him. Granted that she wasn’t a kid anymore, she was still a kid to him. “You can’t embarrass me, I have a reputation to uphold.”

(Y/N) barked out a laugh as she saw Tony puff out his chest, “I cross my heart that I won’t embarrass you.”

Tony smiled at her and opened the door, she instantly saw all the Avengers lounging around -some sitting down, some playing pool and some in the kitchen. He cleared his throat and they stopped and stared at him. “This is (Y/N),” he gestured the awed girl beside him.

She smiled at the group and waved, “I’m his love child,” she waggled her eyebrows and laughed out loudly when she saw the expressions on their face.

“She’s not,” Tony deadpanned. “What did I say about embarrassing me?” She shrugged in reply. Turning back to the group he explained, “She’s a recruit from Isla Nublar, Tony wanted her expertise on something. Plus, I’ve also known her since she was little so she’s like a little sister to me, so if any of you hurt her I will seriously kill you.”

“You can’t just mildly kill them?” (Y/N) teased and she received a jab from him. As they went around the room, introducing (Y/N) to everyone, she was awestruck by just how ordinary they were. Of course she kept up on the details, not hard to really. But it was so different, they were just normal people who were expected to drop everything to fight off the next evil.


After the introductions, she went to the kitchen to fix herself something to eat as everyone was heading to the gym. “For a bunch of superheroes they surprisingly have a lot of junk food in the fridge,” she mused to herself, thinking out loud. “Ooo, lasagne.” She picked out the heavy dish and turned around but bumped into someone.

“SHIT! I am so sorry,” (Y/N) looked at the lasagne and then back to the figure. Their black uniform was covered in red and white sauce. “I got lasagne on you,” she began wiping it off his uniform, after three wipes she realised how awkward it was.

She smiled sheepishly and look up at the man, “Sorry, didn’t mean to awkwardly touch you.” (Y/N) was going to say more but she stopped when she saw who she was talking to. It was Bucky Barnes. She read up on him, fascinated by history as both James Barnes and the Winter Soldier. “It’s not everyday that you get to live the tale that you accidentally dropped lasagne on an infamous assassin.” She tried to lighten the joke being the idiot as the was.

Bucky looked down at her, veiled amusement in his eyes. “Don’t really know the protocol for throwing lasagne at an assassin so forgive me if I don’t know how to act, I’m usually much cooler than this.” She gave him a toothy smile. (Y/N) wasn’t nervous, not at all, nor was she embarrassed.

“It’s okay,” his voice was rough from the lack of use. To his ears it sounded foreign, but to her it sounded beautiful.

“Do you want me to pay for dry-cleaning?” He tilted his head. “Uh, dry-cleaning is like this fancy service that you use when you want something to be professionally cleaned.” She sounded so unsure, but at the same time her voice was gentle and not at all patronising.

“I know what dry-cleaning is,” he gave her a small quick smile.

She found that she liked it when he smiled, he seemed younger and more relaxed even though she saw it for at least 3 seconds. “That’s good, that’s good.” She muttered, then looking down at the floor. “I haven’t been in the compound a day and I’ve already made a mess.” (Y/N) walked to the counter to fetch the kitchen roll, once in her hand she bent down and started wiping.

“Want some help?” Bucky knelt down and ripped some paper.


Maybe it was the way that she didn’t seem afraid of him and she treated him like a normal person. Or maybe it was because she made him laugh -something that hasn’t happened to him for so long. Or maybe it was her small, awkward yet charming smile that made him feel lighter than he’s ever felt before.


From that day on Bucky seeked out (Y/N), he came out of his room more, stayed in rooms longer than before. Of course everyone noticed his odd behaviour, it was hard not to. Bucky didn’t actively participate in conversations, but when (Y/N) asked him a question, flashed him a smile, or tried to include him in the conversation he reciprocated.


They were sitting in the living room, Stranger Things playing on the television. “You’re enjoying this,” she teased as she saw him lean in trying to figure out the scene.

Bucky leaned back nonchalantly and turned his head towards her, “It’s…different.”

“Different good?”

He nodded hesitantly. “It’s nice.”

She smiled triumphantly and leaned back, her arms touching his lightly. She tried not to think of how warmth seemed to radiate of him, or just how nice he smelt.

(Y/N) passed him the pizza, “Thanks, doll.” (Y/N)’s hand froze and turned to him.

He felt his face redden, and his hands clamp up. He didn’t mean to say that out loud, he didn’t mean for that nickname to slip. He didn’t turn to her, afraid of her reaction. It was an intimate nickname for someone, so he wouldn’t be surprised if she got up and left, never speaking to him again.

She made an appreciative noise, “I like that.”

Startled, he turned to her, “What?”

“I like that. It’s cute and it’s very you,” she gave him a grin and a wink. “Doll,” she tried it out, rolling the word off her tongue.

He smiled at her when she clucked her tongue, “Don’t I get a nickname?”

She narrowed her eyes, smiled and tilted her head, “Hm, what to call you. Buckster?” She tried out and she chuckled at his horrified expression. “Buckarro?” He poked her this time. “I know, I’ll call you James.”

This time he chuckled, “That’s my name, not exactly a nickname.”

“Except no one calls you that and that’s why it’s perfect. Everyone calls you Barnes, or Bucky, but never James. The name is something just the two of us,” she smiled at him.


He felt his heart quicken and reciprocated her smile. It was genuine and it was wide. It was the smile that he would have had on his face practically all the time back in the 40s. As they continued watching the show, he realized that he liked it when she said the two of them. ‘Just between the two of them.’ He smiled, contented for the first time.


(Y/N) stood in line, trying to memorize everyone’s drink order. She felt a hand touch her backside and she turned around, “What are you doing?”

The man behind her gave her a lopsided smile. Even under the bad fluro lights she could see that his eyes were glossy and he could hardly stand on his on two feet. “Hey there pretty lady.” He gave her a wink and (Y/N) screwed up her nose in disgust. “Don’t be like that,” he tried to touch her arm but she yanked it away.

“Don’t touch me,” she growled, her arms ready to fight just in case.

“Come on, pretty lady,” he yanked her by the waist and she yelped. (Y/N) hardly had time to hit the man as he was yanked off her. She tumbled to the ground, and watched as Bucky hit the man over and over again. Noticing how hard the punches were she pulled herself up and ran to where Bucky was.

“Bucky!” He didn’t turn around. He held the man’s collar and pulled his hand back to punch him again. “Bucky! Bucky!” (Y/N) ran and touched his shoulder, “James.” This time he turned around. Letting the man go.

She saw how his eyes and his face were different, she tentatively touched his cheek, “James, come back to me darling. Come back to me.” She rubbed his cheek affectionately, “I’m here, just come back to me, please.”

His gaze softened, and he cupped the hand that was on his cheek.

Bucky was sure that (Y/N) would have ran away, fleeing as she saw the side of him he desperately never wanted anyone to see, especially her. But all she did was hold his hand, nodding to Steve and took him outside leading him to the car.


Once they were in the safety of the complex, (Y/N) opened Bucky’s door and pulled him in. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer, instead he fell to his knees. (Y/N) knelt down and pushed back his hair, “Buck?”

“I’m sorry,” it was soft and she could hardly hear him but at the same time she could hear it clearly, the emotion; the heartbreak, anger and sadness.

(Y/N) launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, squeezing him tighter as each second passed by. Once they broke apart she looked at him, “Never, ever apologize for that. Never apologize for that James.”

“I let him out, I never wanted to let him out.”

She could have burst out crying at how small he sounded. “No matter what, he will always be a part of you James, you can never erase him but,” she closed her eyes and shook her head. “Don’t ever be ashamed for something that you never did. You needed to be brainwashed, you needed a long time to transfer from James to the Winter Soldier. You’re not him.”

Bucky wrapped his arms around her, never letting her go, “You’re not him. You’re Steve’s Bucky, you’re my James, you’re our Barnes. Never forget that.” She gave him a kiss on the top of his head, “Even if you do, I’ll always be here to make you remember.”

“Promise?”

“Always.” It was such a simple word but it was filled with so much more than it could possibly contain. He felt his heart open, and it all it took was one word for his walls to be tore down.


It was a casual day, there was nothing important. She was in her pyjamas, and he was in his gym clothes. Both of them sat at the kitchen counter, each eating their respective breakfast.

“What would you say if I asked you on a date doll?” He didn’t look at her, fear of her rejection.

She placed her spoon down, “I would say that it took you long enough James.” When he looked up he could see her smile, happiness radiating off her face.


He was Bucky before. He was known for charming the dames, being everyone’s friend and always being there for Steve. Then he was known as the Winter Soldier. He was adored. One of the greatest killing machines that HYDRA has ever created. He was feared.Then he was Barnes. Long gone was Bucky (though not for Steve, he would always be Bucky for Steve), buried underneath everything, and long gone was the Winter Soldier. He was Barnes and he was part of the Avengers. He was accepted. Finally, he was James. Her James to be exact. He was understood, loved and adored. She was the one person that managed to find him when he was so lost in the dark. She was the beacon in his life that he longed for, that he thought was long gone because of the atrocities that he committed.

But here she was, next to him, one of her arms carelessly tossed on his stomach, one under the pillow. As Bucky stroked her hair, she softly groaned and lifted her head. “Hey Buck, is it morning yet?”

He gave her a small smile. “No, not yet.” (Y/N) sat up and stretched, then with a grin she straddled him.

She grabbed his metal arm and fiddled with his fingers, “You know we could just etch the ring on your finger, I mean you won’t ever lose it that way.” (Y/N) leaned forward and laid on his chest.

He loved this position, mostly because he could feel her heartbeat. “I’m not you, doll, I mean how many times have you lost your ring?” He felt her lightly smack him, and he started running his hand down her back.

“Shut it, you love me.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

“You’re marrying me.”

“Eh,” he gave her a shrug and sat back up.

“Do I have to convince you that marrying me would be the greatest thing ever?” She grinded her hips against his, and smirked when he groaned.

“The greatest thing ever was meeting you doll,” he sat up and kissed her.

Bucky managed to find someone to break him out of his shell. A person who managed to keep the nightmares at bay, even on the rare occasions he had them she was there right by his side, brushing his hair back and whispering comforting words in his ear. He found the person that managed to love his past even when he couldn’t.

Lost - The Forgotten Series - Pt. 3

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam, Rowena, mentions of Crowley and Cas

Warnings: All the Angst

Word Count: 2.6k (hey look, it’s the longest of the series)

A/N: I know that it’s been a while. I had to wait for this one to come to me. I thought it was going to be the last one, but it turns out this Series has other plans. So, I bring you third installment of The Forgotten Series, Lost. I really hope you guys like it! Catch up on Pt. 1 & 2

Feedback Appreciated 

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Bite Me. Dean Winchester.

Request:  Can you please do a Dean x reader smut, where the reader is a vampire and Dean has feelings for her, and she likes him too, but he doesn’t know. Then Dean and Sam return a little injured from a hunt and the reader sees Dean shirtless (because he was stitching a wound or something, I don’t know) and she just loses it and kisses him,that leading to smut. Also, it would be amazing if Dean lets the reader drink his blood while they are having sex,and he kind of enjoys the pain(if it’s not too weird)

Triggers: Smut. Blood/Injury Kink. Biting.

Word Count: 2021

Enjoy ;D



“You sure you guys will be okay?” You asked, getting a bit antsy as your eyes flashed slightly.

Dean smiled to you and shuffled your hair. “Relax, Y/N. We got this. Just be sure to draw the curtains in so you don’t burn up.”

“It’s not like that, Dean,” You growled, playfully flashing your fangs at them.

Dean waved his fingers playfully at you. “Oh, what? Gonna bite me?” He teased. Sam smacked his chest to which you snickered as your fangs retracted. “Seriously though. Try to get some rest, Y/N. You were busting ass pretty hard.”

“Just be careful. If anything happens, call. I mean it.”

“We’ll be fine,” Sam said before kissing your head. You smiled as his scent hit your nose. “Stay inside.”

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The Marriage Bed

A few days ago, @apanoplyofsong suggested virgin!Bellamy, so here’s virgin!Bellamy with a side of mid nineteenth century England and entirely too much Clarke backstory, because why the fuck not.

Clarke had never imagined her life would turn out like this.  Finn was a respectable officer in the British Army, kind and good natured and the perfect choice for the only daughter of a modestly landed baronet.  When she married him her father was still alive and Clarke saw her life stretching placidly out before her— perhaps without the excitement she still sometimes craved, but happily enough.

But then came Finn’s betrayal.  It had brought her Raven, of course, for which Clarke was strangely thankful, but placed immense strain on their marriage.  When war broke out in a distant Russian territory Clarke was almost relieved, and Finn seemed to feel the same way as he left to lead his men.

He would never return from the Crimean soil that claimed him.  Clarke was a widow, and for years she thought that was to be her fate.  Lexa had changed everything for her again, but she was long gone now, having traded the stuffy dining rooms of England for the wilds of the Canadian prairies.  Part of Clarke had longed to go with her, but that would mean abandoning Arkadia to Cage Wallace, and that Clarke could not countenance.  The people who lived on her land were like family and she would not abandon them to a man who would turn them out of their homes before the ink was dry.

But then three months ago, Clarke received word that Wallace was going to press his claim anyway.  A single woman with no issue cannot manage an estate in her own name proclaimed the papers his lawyer filed.  Therefore the inheritance of Arkadia and all its endowed lands shall pass to the male heir.  Wells had tried to fight it but the laws were clear— a woman could not inherit, and her choices were to turn Arkadia over to Cage or marry again and hope for a male heir.  (Cage himself had proposed marriage, but Clarke had tossed him out of the house with a shudder at the thought.)

Arkadia was a tempting prize for several eligible bachelors, but Clarke promised herself she would only marry someone she could look upon with some measure of warmth.  That ruled out most, and insipid conversation ruled out the rest.  And then, quite by chance, she met Bellamy Blake.

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Fuck it, Nesta thought, as she tossed aside the cup she’d been drinking wine from and brought the bottle to her lips. She took a long sip.

She sat alone on the roof of her building atop a thick blanket in the dark. She curled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she took another sip of wine.

She looked up at the sky. It would be starting soon.

A chilly, light breeze blew a strand of golden brown hair across her face. She tucked it behind her ear. She wore an oversized sweater and a pair of dark leggings. She wrinkled her bare toes into the blanket, maybe she should have worn socks.

She took another sip, thinking about the party in the House of Wind she was missing. She’d not wanted to get all dressed up just to stand on a balcony filled mostly with strangers. And she didn’t want to deal with her everyone playing buffer between her and Cassian. It was better this way. No one would have fun if she were there, and maybe this way he’d at least have fun.

Maybe he’d find someone to talk to, a female maybe—she took another swig of wine.

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