and gives about as much away as a damn brick wall

Eighteen {KJM} (M)

Part 1 | Part 2

Description: You’re an eighteen year old bartender and Junmyeon comes in with Baekhyun one day. He hits on you, then feels bad because your eighteen, then realizes he just doesn’t care. He likes you.

Genre: Fluff / Smut / Angst

Word Count: 10,384

Warning: Smut

Pairing: Kim Junmyeon (Suho) x Reader (feat. Baekhyun)

Author: Admin Xiufairy ㅅㅇㅅ

Originally posted by dazzlingkai

At eighteen, you were perfectly content working at a bar. You just served everybody who came up to you, it was that easy. It was fun for you, but if you had a penny for every time a much older man hit on you, you’d be rich enough to leave the country.

They all backed down when you told them that you were only eighteen thankfully, but you’d begun to wonder exactly why that changed people’s minds. It wasn’t as busy as usual that night, at least at the bar. The floor was always crazy and loaded with people.

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Fault

(Part 2)

Summary: 

“Bucky had never been held responsible for what he’d done, but you, oh god, everything that had happened had been your fault, and Bucky knew it too.”

Word Count: 1677
Warnings: a lot of self-doubt, injury, angst


It’s dark. And cold. And wet.

In the distance you can hear the rush of cars, tires splashing in puddles formed by the rain. They sound so, so far away.

You’re vaguely aware of the blood dripping down the back of your neck, and spilling out your lips and coating your fingers and smeared across your face and– there’s so much blood. You choke back a sob.

You have to get out of here. You have to get out of here and get back to the tower before anyone notices you’re missing because you can’t let anyone see you like this. You’re supposed to be strong like the rest of them, to be able to fight like the rest of them and defend yourself and not get into situations like this and the only thing running through your head right now is the fact that you might even die and everyone’s going look at you like some sort of failure.

(The one person you genuinely cared about already does, anyway.)

You place your hands on the ground under you, trying to push yourself up off the ground, but a sharp, snapping pain runs up your arm, as if the bone’s splitting, and you fall, letting out a gasp of pain as your chest hits the ground. There are tears welling in your eyes, both of frustration and the immense pain your body is in, and you lie with your cheek against the wet pavement in the middle of some back alley.

How are you going to get back and pretend like nothing happened when you can’t even fucking get up? You want to scream, but even your voice is hoarse from begging them to stop as you endured hit after hit.

You think back to a few hours ago, to how Bucky had been avoiding you all day and when you’d finally confronted him about it he’d yelled at you for not being able to do one job you had – to save the two kids in the fucking building on the one mission they’d taken you to. He’d yelled and you’d yelled and maybe he’d let it slip that he thought you were a failure, and then you’d gotten angry and stormed out to a bar to get drunk. But he’d been right. The fact of the matter is that you are a failure, and now you can’t even prove yourself otherwise.

A painful sob wracks your body as your hands reach into your pocket, pulling out your phone. There are missed calls that you barely notice, fingers fumbling and tears blurring your eyes. It takes four attempts to call Steve, your hands wet and sticky because of the blood. As it rings, you can feel your heart constrict in your chest. What are they going to think of you? Weak? Pathetic?

Words flit through your head, as the phone rings. And rings. And rings.

“Hi, you’ve reached Steve Rogers–”

You hang up, then try again.

And again.

And again.

With each time it reaches voicemail, you cry harder. You can’t blame him – it’s four in the fucking morning and the mission was exhausting, so everyone’s probably turned their phone on silent and for the first time in days is getting some proper rest.

You try Nat next, then Sam, then Clint, then even Tony, but nobody picks up.

There’s one last name left on the list of people that’ll probably answer at four a.m. You hesitate, fingers hovering over his name, knowing his reaction if he picks up.

You press call. Your heart pounds against your chest and your blood rushes through your ears and your eyes feel kind of heavy. You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe.

As you gasp for air the phone rings. And rings. And rings. And ri–

“Y/N?”

Hearing his tired voice croak your name is like turning a switch, because suddenly there is air in your lungs and you can breathe again.

Until, “What the fuck do you want?”

Heaving in a gulp of air, you opened your mouth to speak, but before you can even get a word out, he continues.

“It’s four in the fuckin’ mornin’, an’ the few of us who worked hard on the mission are pretty damn tired.”

You feel the intended jab of his words, and shut your mouth, breathing heavily through your nose as the blood flow stems and begins to crust on your face. The tears well up in your eyes again. You know you shouldn’t have called him, that he was still mad at you and he would probably never forgive you for what you had done, because even as the Winter Soldier he’d never have hurt let an innocent child get hurt. But you’d let it happen, right in front of him, with full control over your actions. Bucky had never been held responsible for what he’d done, but you, oh god, everything that had happened had been your fault, and Bucky knew it too.

“Are you going to speak?” He prompts, an edge in his voice laced with annoyance.

There’s shuffling on the other end of the phone, before you hear a faint, feminine voice. “Bucky baby, come back to bed.” You don’t know who it is, and that makes it so much worse because you know he only picks up random girls when he’s stressed out, and the cause of stress is you, you know as much.

You’re trying to speak but you can’t find the words. Your head hurts and the pain is finally starting to catch up, ebbing away at the adrenaline that had been coursing through your body.

“I’m sorry – it's– it’s, I just –” But you don’t know what to say. Something’s clawing at the inside of your throat, like nails raking down your vocal chords and making it hard to speak. The only thing you can do is cry.

“I’m sorry,” you’re screeching, heaving in breaths of air any chance you can get. “Nobody else picked up – I – I didn’t know – I didn’t know who else to call.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone. Or maybe you can’t hear Bucky speaking. You can’t hear anything over the sound of your sobs, disappearing behind the heavy patter of the rain.

“Y/N? Y/N!” His voice seems so far away, it almost sounds concerned. “Y/N, what happened?”

“He said he knew! He said he knew more about– that he could tell me– I’m sorry. I trusted him. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

“Shit.” There’s shuffling on the other end, then a quieter, “I gotta go, Babe.” Your heart clenches and the only thing that manages to leave your mouth is a string of apologies.

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know– I don’t know!” There’s a level of hysteria in your voice, and he can probably hear it too. He’s saying other stuff in a calmer voice, something about breathing and looking around but you can’t hear him over the sound of the blood rushing through your ears and the constant thought of you being an absolute failure swimming through your head.

“– okay?” You take gulps of air through your mouth, trying to subside the sobs resonating through your chest as you tune back into his voice. “Just breathe, Y/N. Look around and tell me what you see.”

“It’s dark, and there’s- there's–” You look around frantically, trying to find something, trying to see something, but it’s so dark and all you know is that you’re in some back alley and God, your lungs feel like they’re on fire but you can’t figure out how to get air down your throat. “An alley,” you gasp out. “Behind the bar. I’m behind the bar–”

And you break off into sobs again, praying to someone, anyone, that Bucky can understand you through the thickness of your voice and the croaking of your throat.

“Okay. Okay. Y/N? I’ll be there in ten, okay? Just give me ten minutes.”

You manage to scrape an “okay” up your throat without throwing up from the crying and the screaming. Bucky says something about hanging up, and suddenly your voice is making your ears bleed again. “No! No! Please, Bucky, stay on the line. Please.”

And then he’s saying something and you’re not sure what, because you can’t focus on anything anymore. You don’t know how long you sit there, leaning against the cold brick wall, soaking wet with a puddle of red tinged water surrounding you, chilling to the bone. Maybe it’s really ten minutes, maybe it’s a few hours, you can’t tell, but there’s nothing more warming than the sound of Bucky’s voice calling out your name, this time closer to you than through the phone.

“Y/N?” His voice resonates through the small alley, and you’re slightly more awake for a moment as a flashlight shines directly into your eyes, then down the rest of you.

He swears.

A lot.

“Hey, hey, Y/N.” You feel his hands, warm and soft and tender, on your cheek, slapping lightly to grab your attention. Your eyes are unfocused, you can barely make out his face through the tears and the haze grabbing at the edges of your vision.

An arm goes under your knees and your start screaming again, pain and fear coursing through every vein in your body. Someone’s saying something, your name and something else, and it’s calm and reassuring but all you can focus on is how much it hurts. You’re hoisted into the air and this time the scream doesn’t even make it past your lips, catching in your throat as the pain peaks into a numbness spreading to your toes.

“–wake! Y/N, hey, keep your eyes on me, okay?” But your eyes are challenging his voice, daring to shut for longer periods of time with each blink.

There’s a deep, ocean blue staring down at you when you do open your eyes, laced with disappointment and screaming the same word over and over at you.

Failure. Failure. Failure.

Your eyes close.

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Heart on the Line (part 6)

Masterlist


You and Bucky had your differences in college, but now you need a place to stay and he needs a roommate, and in order to make ends meet, you two start a phone sex line together.  

“For a Good Time, Call…” AU


author: sugardaddytonystark (formerly buckysbackpackbuckle)
pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
word count: 1114

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Crooked Nature - Negan Imagine

Pairing: Negan & Reader

Prompt: [REQUESTED] ~ “Can I get a one shot where you’re rick’s teenage daughter and one of the saviors always gets in your face/touches you inappropriately and when you finally tell your dad you don’t know that negans listening and he punishes the man(all your imagines are great and I know this one will be too”

Word Count: 1330

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Warnings & A/N: mentions of inappropriate language directed towards a minor, assault on a minor (not rape - chill)

Theme: Angst

Originally posted by grungedaddykinks

Originally posted by blackcanarywrites

Another day had come where The Savior’s came to collect rations from Alexandria. As much as your father attempted to sugarcoat it, you knew the groups linked to the same ‘deal’ that your group had, were planning on defeating the Savior’s for once and for all.

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Stupid (Yoongi/Reader Fluff)

Summary: It’s 2:45 am and Min Yoongi’s at your door. Stupid.

(( Note: Lol, hey guys… Guess who’s not dead. *Me (I think)* Sorry I went on hiatus out of nowhere :/ Can’t say that I’m back officially because like the last time I said that I was gone three months after (hehe). So I’m semi back I guess? I’ve been missing those active Tumblr days so much, I wish I can be on more, idk what will happen in the future but I’ll try my best to post more scenarios and just overall be more active :) HOPEFULLY SMH—Also I know nothing about piano/music writing, I apologize for any mistakes and please please listen to the song it’s really pretty ))


Literally, what the hell.”

You stared at your best friend, completely dumbfounded by the fact that you were even staring at him considering that it was pitch black and cold as shit out. In other words, it was 2:45 in the morning and no other than Min Yoongi was standing there right in front of you, hands stuffed deep into his large coat along with a fluffy scarf wrapped countless times around his head, hot air from his mouth puffing out into the frozen winter air. 

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FP Jones/Andrews family/Riverdale imagines - Oh Dear Part 9

Originally posted by riverdalesource

AN: This chapter is a little different… It’s also a little short so I may release the next chapter a little earlier than Friday. 

(Part One) (Part Two)(Part Three)(Part Four)(Part Five)(Part Six)(Part Seven)(Part Eight)

Overall Summary: You’re Archie’s old sister and you have a thing for a certain serpent

Pairing: Reader x FP Jones, Sister!Reader x Archie Andrews, Daughter!Reader x Fred Andrews

Word count: 1,335

Warnings: Well, FP is clearly older than the reader in this fic, none really

Before homecoming…

FP watched you leave the trailer with a unconscious smirk on his lips. 

You really were something else. 

He turned to the kitchen and poured himself a coffee, he had to be at Alice Coopers in an hour and if he was honest, he was kind of nervous. 

He knew Alice. He knew that this wasn’t just some social gathering to bring the Cooper/Jones family together but he said he’d go since Jughead seemed so damn excited about it. And in the end, he didn’t care that much about Alice’s intentions as long as his son was happy.

And your surprise visit was enough to encourage him to get through the rest of the evening. Knowing that you would be at the Whyte Wyrm in a pair of combat boots and black washed jeans that clung to you so tightly was enough to help FP through the night. 

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Kiss me, I'm Irish ☘

Just a little smutty Friends to Lovers (with no pining!) fun for this holiday, dedicated to @swallowedsong for various reasons. Sláinte! (rated M, 3000 words, AO3)


She almost choked on her green beer as her best friend’s feet came up off the ground as the burly, flanneled lumberjack (well, big guy in flannel shirt) at the bar planted a smacking kiss right on those unsuspecting lips. She’d told Killian what would happen if we wore that shirt, but he didn’t listen. Emma’s laughter is lost in the packed pub filled to the brim with St. Patrick’s Day revelers, but she knows Killian hears it, his telltale eyebrow lifting as Paul Bunyan releases him and gives him a jovial pat on the back.

“You had to know that would happen at some point, lad.”

“Aye, mate…sláinte!”

Emma shakes her head at Killian’s seemingly unflappable facade, watching as he shares a big grin and a toast with his kissing buddy at the end of the bar. But as he makes his way back to her she can see the signs of his mild embarrassment in the red glow of his pointy ears to the sheen of sweat at the hollow of his throat.

“Regretting that shirt yet?”

“Why Swan? That was the best kiss I’ve had all night.”

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Love Game

Summary: You’re participating in a high stakes tennis tournament for your college team and Peter, being the supportive boyfriend he is, attends it to cheer you on in his own little way.

Warnings: Peter Parker x Reader, light smut, admiration and appreciation of tennis, fluff 

A/N: I feel a little weird writing underage characters so I’m going to make Peter of age (18+) for this.


“You really don’t have to come, Peter.” You flung your dresser drawers open and searched for your tennis attire. “I promise, tournaments really aren’t that fun to sit through unless you’re a die-hard tennis fan.”

“I’m a die-hard you fan, (Y/N).” Peter wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his forehead on the back of your head. “Besides, I’m not going to lie, I don’t hate watching you kicking ass in your tennis clothes. I’m a big fan of the skirts.”

“Skort.” You reached a hand up and tangled your fingers in his hair. “It’s not a skirt, it’s a skort.”

“Ah, skorts.” Peter chuckled and kissed your cheek. “You should wear the black one, it’s cute and pleated.” 

“Anything for you, Mr. Photographer.” You dropped your hand back into the drawer. “I just have to find it first.”

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Crybaby

Summary: You’re the one who is always picked on, almost every day, and you’re so sick and tired of it. Nobody helps you, until one fateful day. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (ALTERNATE UNIVERSE)

Word Count: 3,109 Words

Warnings: Bullying, fluff, angst, a bit of violence and gore, sappiness 

A.N: I’m always one for women standing up for themselves, but this idea just came to me and some standing up happens in the end. I swear I normally don’t like ‘damsels in distress’ but this story just happens to have a reader character a bit like that. Sorry. 

You hate life. Specifically, you hate school. No, it isn’t all those tests and assignments that teachers wanted you to do all the time, because despite those being an absolute pain, it definitely isn’t the worst thing you endured. You’re actually a reasonably smart person, and you find classes relatively easy. However, outside of classes…things are pretty terrible.

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offlikeadirty-shirt  asked:

please write more bruce wayne !!! 😩🙌🏽

And here some more Bruce Wayne ;) : 

Warning : slightly sexual I guess, and langage maybe. 

PART 2 

(My masterlist blog here : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com)

______________________________________________________________________

Beach Bod’  - Bruce Wayne x Reader

You hated sand. You just couldn’t stand it. It got everywhere, it iritated your skin…it was just awful. So, obviously, when your family FINALLY could get all together, you decided a day at the beach was a good idea. Alfred made a nice pic-nic, and you all left for a secret spot you knew, where, even though it was a wonderful summer day, you knew there wouldn’t be anyone. You had a nice family lunch made of Al’s great sandwiches and salads. You bitched about sand getting in your food, and your sons and husband just kept mocking you for your grumpiness. You were the one who always smiled usually, and also, you suggested you should go to the beach so…But still, fuck sand.

At the present moment, your boys, Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian, were trying to drown their father. How cute. Of course, they were not really trying to drown him, they were just having fun…you hoped. You had to give Bruce credits though, he was alone againts four teenage boys very much in shape, and still managed to keep his head out of the water. It was nice to see all of them relaxed, laughing, splashing each others and not actually trying to kill each other or brooding.

The boys finally came up with a strategy the four of them together to be able to duck their father’s head in the water. Dick held onto one of Bruce’s leg, while Jason was holding the other. Tim used Damian as a battering ram, and threw him as hard as he could in his father’s chest.

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Remedy (1)

Bucky x reader

Bucky’s POV.

Notes: trigger warnings! Implications of sexual abuse, mentions of torture, swearing, injuries, cute-ass Bucky who knows exactly how to be sweet and careful. 

It starts out a bit dark, but I promise, it’s all sweetness after. I thought everyone could use a little sweet, caring, cute and a little snarky Bucky after today. I hope you’re all doing okay, and I hope this maybe helps getting your minds off pressing matters, even if it’s just for a few minutes. Love you guys, stay strong. 

Summary: when a woman is found at an abandoned Hydra base, more dead than alive, Bucky takes it upon himself to help her in any and every way he can. He doesn’t have much of a choice, being the first to approach her without the intention of hurting her in a long time, she doesn’t trust anyone around but him. 

Originally posted by jamesbuchananbarnesisbae

“Steve, seriously. I don’t need a babysitter”

“I’m not babysitting you, Buck”

“Then why are you still on my damn ass when you could be on the other side of this fuckin’ warehouse, and thus, making this go a hell of a lot faster?”

Silence.

Steve can be such a damn mom sometimes., thinking I can’t do a fucking sweep on my own.

“You know, sometimes you make me think that you just like lookin’ at my ass, Rogers”

“I’d like to be lookin’ at your ass when I kick it” Steve muttered under his breath, as if I couldn’t hear it.

“Don’t tempt me”

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Heat of the Moment - Part 3: In the Light of Day

Characters: Reader (Y/N Padalecki), Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki,

Pairing: Jensen x reader, Jared/sister!Reader

Warnings: Slight violence, language   

Wordcount: 1700ish

A/N: Andi aka @ellen-reincarnated1967 offered to write me another drabble for a series of hers I love, so I told her to pick one of five prompts but my overactive brain made a story of all five prompts. Which turned into the first two parts. Then @arryn-nyxx said something and boom here is the 3rd and last part.

Thanks a billion to brilliant and amazing @mamapeterson betaing this for me and helping me get the ending just right.

MASTERPOST

Knowing that Jared wasn’t exactly thinking straight at the moment, you hadn’t been able to stay put. After finding your jeans hanging over the couch you had ran from the apartment and down the street. Luckily for you, your brother weren’t exactly quiet, which made your job of finding them all the more easy.

You loved your brother to pieces, but sometimes his overprotective nature made you want to kick his ass. You were 24 years old and you knew how to stand up for yourself. It wasn’t like Jensen was some creep from the bar anyway. You honestly couldn’t see Jared’s problem even if what had happened between you and Jensen had just been a one night thing. You hoped it wasn’t and Jensen had given you every reason to think he wanted more, just the same as you before he bolted from the room.

Your heart fluttered and even running down the street toward the alley where Jared’s loud roars were coming from, you couldn’t help but smile as you thought about the loving look flashing in Jensen’s green eyes before your brother had interrupted you. You hoped that Jared wouldn’t scare him away like he had with a few of your boyfriends in the past. Truth be told you hadn’t lost anything by that, even if you had been pisseed with your brother for his overprotective behavior, but Jensen was different.

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Strip

(A/N): I honestly love protective steve so much

Request: Can you write a StevexReader story where the reader is at college and has to work as stripper to get the money for it because her parents won’t pay it? And Steve sees her as Tony tracks him there one day to make him lose his virginity. And some guy starts to be rude to her and Steve comes to protect her?

Warnings: none

Tags: @mcuimxgine, @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x, @saradi1018, @holland-toms, @superwholockian309, @fly-f0rever, @capbuckthor


Originally posted by master-of-duct-tape

   “You gotta get some experience Cap,” Tony mutters as he shakes his head, stuffing his hands in his pocket as they pass by the retro Strip Club, one that had ladies dating back to all sorts of times. You had your classic 80′s rocker, the 90′s grunge, the 70′s disco, the 60′s flower child, and Tony’s personaly favorite the 1940′s showgirl. “It’s completely authentic Cap, it’ll be reminiscent!” 

   “I don’t remember any strip clubs back in my day, “ Steve mutters as he nearly throws open the door, the old piece of wood smacking against the equally old brick. With an angry sigh he stuffed his hands into his pants pocket as he trudged into the club, his gaze raking over all the different girls. It was obviously a break of some sort for they had all congregated in the front room, not in their individual blast from the past showrooms. All the girls, some of them the drapper 30′s girls straight to the early 2000′s ones all sat around, either smoking or drinking, maybe chatting with one another. Every pair of eyes land on the two as they walk in and Steve can practically feel them undressing him on the spot. 

   “Hey girls!” Tony calls out boisterously, waving flirtatiously to some of the strippers. “We could a little problem here,” 

   “We’re on lunch break, sorry,” One of the girls gives him a small smile as she takes a drag from her cigar. If Steve guessed right she looked like she belonged to the 70′s era. 

   “Would uh- this convince you otherwise?” Tony waves a wad of cash in the air, watching as the girls followed his hand hungrily. 

   “Hm…” One of the girls rose from her seat, showcasing her rather voluptuous form. “I’m sure I could work on Mr. Tall and Blonde for ya,” She sways her hips as she walks towards the two, stopping just in front of Steve. “He’s pretty cute if I do say so myself,” 

   “Tony-” Steve begins, casting his friend a side glance when he stopped, his eyes catching onto one of the girls lingering in a corner, sitting by herself but still there. The dark of the room almost shadowed them but Steve would recognize that face anywhere. “(Y/N),” Steve sounds just the tiniest bit confused, his brows furrowed as he gazed into the corner. Tony perks up a bit too, his gaze travelling over the girls until they landed on the shadowy figure in the corner. 

   “Well I’ll be damned,” Tony chuckles, stuffing his money away as he made his way towards (Y/N)’s table. “Looks like we got yourselves quite the showgirl,” Tony clicks his tongue as he takes a seat right next to (Y/N), giving them a sort of twisted smile. “How perfect for our very own Captain America,” 

    “Leave me alone Tony,” (Y/N) mutters, folding her arms over her chest as she huffed just a bit. Even in the poor lighting Steve could see how exhausted (Y/N) looked, not even her copious amount of makeup could cover up just how tired she was. 

   “I’ve got money (Y/N) and if you’re working here you obviously need it-” 

   “Tony,’ Steve warns, his tone light for now. 

   “I just want to know why our precious little (Y/N) is out here, working that pert little ass off for money when she doesn’t need it,” (Y/N) bites her lip, blushing just the tiniest bit. “You’re so conservative at the tower, always covering up, damn- I didn’t even know you looked this good,” Tony licks his lips, allowing his gaze to travel up and down (Y/N)’s exposed body. 

   “Tony, that’s enough,” Steve growls, his patience running thin. “(Y/N) must have a good reason for working here, right?’ Steve looks to her, hoping his gaze was sympathetic. (Y/N) looks at Steve with almost shame filled eyes as she nods her head. 

   “I need the money for college, I can’t pay with a regular job but working here is sufficing,” 

   “You know,” Tony leans forward, getting way too close to (Y/N) to Steve’s liking. “If you gave me my own private little show I’m sure I could pay you those college loans for ya,” Tony’s lips brush against (Y/N)’s ear and the flinch, her face taking up an expression of both horror and distaste. 

   “Tony, stop-” (Y/N) whispers, attempting to push away from the man but he remained steadfast, quickly grabbing onto (Y/N) to keep her in place. That was all Steve needed to rip Tony away from (Y/N) and shove him against the wall, his elbow digging into his throat. 

   “When a woman tells you to stop you better fucking stop, got that?” Steve growls, pushing his elbow against Tony’s neck even more. The man coughs and chokes, clawing at Steve’s arm to let him go. Somewhere behind him the girls are all whispering about Steve and Tony and no doubt (Y/N) as well. “Do you understand Stark?” Tony nods weakly, clutching at Steve’s arm fruitlessly. With an angry grunt Steve let Tony fall to the floor, instead turning to (Y/N) to ask if she was okay. 

   “Are you okay?” Steve asks, his tone much lighter than it had been a few seconds ago. (Y/N) nods meekly, pursing her lips as she does. 

   “Wouldn’t be the first time something like that has happened to me,” (Y/N) smiles sadly and Steve can nearly feel his heart break. 

   “When do you get off work doll?” The nickname slides from his lips easily, almost unconsciously. (Y/N) smiles just a bit, rubbing at her arms in the chill of the club. 

   “A few minutes actually,” 

   “How bout you get dressed and I can take you out to that cafe you like so much?” (Y/N) smiles even more as she nods, her spirits slowly but surely rising. 

   “I’d love that,” (Y/N) brushes past Steve, stopping by his side to give his cheek one little peck, one that had Steve’s cheeks ablaze and his heart hammering. 

   “Thanks Stevie,” (Y/N) whispers, their lips brushing against his cheek with each word. “I think I owe you your own private show sometime,” Steve’s cheeks flush even more, and he swears his heart presses against his chest with how fast it’s beating. 

   “Let me take you on a few dates first,” Steve smiles sheepishly. (Y/N) only smiles, nodding their head as they do. 

   “Cafe is date number one, bookstore is the second one next week, that okay with you?” Steve nods, a little unbelieving chuckle falling from his lips. 

   “That’s perfectly fine with me,” 

potterlocked16  asked:

Hiii. I love you writing, it is so good! I was wondering if you could write/ if you know a fic in which Draco gets really jealous of someone hitting on Harry and starts acting all possesive and shit? :D

OMG thank you so so much!! :) You’re so sweet! ❤️️
Um, here’s the thing: I am awful at fic recs? I’m so sorry? So I hope you don’t mind I just wrote you a little something? ❤️️❤️️❤️️


“This is getting ridiculous, Draco,” Pansy said as she murmured the incantation to heal Draco’s palm. Draco said nothing. He was still gritting his teeth. As soon as Pansy was finished, he snatched his hand out of her grip.

“Thanks a lot,” he said waspishly.

“Hey, I’m not the one who made you smash that glass. Show a little more gratitude. You’re being a brat,” she said with a scowl.

“Nobody made me smash that glass. The glass was… fragile.” Draco mentally rolled his eyes at himself.

“Right,” Pansy replied flatly. She looked over her shoulder and Draco couldn’t help but follow her gaze. His eyes landed on Potter, sitting at the bar and chatting animatedly with some bloke. Draco balled his hands into fists. This seemed to be his natural reaction to seeing Potter like this. It was how he had accidentally smashed that glass he had been holding.

“I need another drink,” Draco muttered. Pansy’s head snapped back around.

“Oh no, you don’t. Don’t go over there. You’ll embarrass yourself.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Draco growled as he watched the bloke stroking Potter’s arm. This was it. Now he definitely had to go over there.

“Draco,” Pansy called after him, but there was no stopping him now.

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5, 6, Grab Your Crucifix

Characters/Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader, little bit of OMC Glen x Reader

Word Count: 6676 (side-eyes myself)

Warnings: OK, here goes…language, drinking, possessiveness, violence, biting, rough sex, marking/claiming sex, non-con voyeurism, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex (pretend there’s a pill or something of that sort in use)…If I missed something, let me know

A/N: Alright, well, here is my late submission for @roxy-davenport‘s birthday writing challenge. I had the prompts: Demon!Dean, Claiming sex, Nightmare on Elm Street, and the quote “Aren’t you precious?” I had a lot of fun with this one, and went more for the dickish Demon!Dean than evil. Much love and thanks to @kayteonline and @ilsawasanacrobat for the beta work and read-throughs and encouragement! You both rock!!

Hope you enjoy it. Please note the warnings. Feedback and constructive criticism are amazing things, please give them to me.

Originally posted by zest-wincest


Year after year, the reason changed, and at first, you meant it. Bartending was supposed to be temporary. Just something to fill your free nights and get some extra cash in your pocket. Now, though, if you were honest, you kept at it because you really enjoyed it. All of it - the fast pace, the free entertainment, and sometimes the company.

Flirting came with the job. The sex? That was where you had to be careful. You didn’t need any overzealous clingy partners hanging around, so you were fairly cautious and discreet, enjoyed more casual flings as they came and went.

Your current FWB, Glen, sat at the end of the bar, out of the way, but close enough that you could still talk and flirt as you worked.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you teased, making up another drink for him.

“Not yet,” he answered with a quick up-down of his eyebrows, making you roll your head back in mock disgust.

“You’re so fucking lame.” You threw a coaster at him and went back to work, flicking off bottle caps and pouring mixers as the bar began to fill. You were scanning the crowd, keeping an eye out for your regulars and anyone looking to flag you down for another drink when you caught sight of him. With that gorgeous face you’d have to struggle to forget, he sat casually at the middle of the bar. He already had a glass in front of him and you wondered how you’d missed him earlier. If you weren’t already warm and flushed from the rush of work, the look he was sending your way would have done it.

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Training Day

Title: Training Day

Summary: Dean and Donna work out.

Author:  Dean’s Dirty Little Secret

Characters:  Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum

Word Count:  1722

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut, unprotected sex

Author’s Notes:  I sent out a plea for some Dean x Donna story ideas. This one came from @tonifish. Photo from Briana Buckmaster.

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Just a Kiss

Draco x Reader

Originally posted by patchismyhusband


As you begin your final year at Hogwarts, you are happy to get back to the hustle and bustle of class schedules, long nights in the library and nights exploring the castle. As a muggleborn, you have made it back to the school by some creative manipulation of your family tree and a couple of wizards claiming relation to you. The Ministry of Magic has allowed you to come back to school and you are grateful for every brick, every corridor and even Peeves.

Gathering your spell book and heading out of the Ancient Runes class, you hear a familiar drawling voice behind you. “How did you get in here mudblood? I am sure you’re here by mistake.”

Freezing on the spot, you look over your shoulder to see Draco’s rigid pale face and crisp silver eyes. Damn, he would be so gorgeous if he wasn’t always lobbing insults every time you see him.

“Are you sure I am the one that is here by mistake? I was unaware ferrets were on the list of approved pets this year. Remind me again who you belong to.”

Stunned only for a moment, Draco narrowed his eyes threateningly. “You will pay for this Y/L/N. Just wait.”

“Looking forward to it,” you bark back at him. Turning on the spot, you heading back to the dorm. The commonroom of Y/H/N is bustling and you gather a few of your friends to tell them about the confrontation between you and Malfoy. Your friends are helping you to hide your muggle status and vow to keep you company in the corridors to provide protection for the next few weeks. You all agree that this will all blow over as soon as everyone starts drowning in homework and no one has time to start petty fights.

Two weeks later Malfoy caught you, with a few friends, outside of the library.

“Still hanging out with the mudblood?” he said in a sarcastic tone. “You know; I wouldn’t even stand next to her. You might catch a muggle virus and have your pureblood status removed.”

Anger began ripping through your body as he laughs at his own joke. You lunge forward, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, and kiss him directly on the lips. Your rage mixes with an odd sensation of enjoyment as your body begins to hum with excitement. Why are you enjoying this? You hate him… or at least you thought you did.

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Bound II

A/N: THE STRESS LEVEL IS THROUGH THE FUCKING ROOF. I had to re write this entire thing bc my computer shut off and deleted the draft. I promised you guys part two today soooo here it is! Thanks for all the love! We’re almost at 300 followers, yall! Thats the craic lol. Enjoy!


Y/n is lying in her bed, still only dressed in a purple blanket but the biggest grin is plastered on her face. She and Harry had formally introduced themselves to each other; they found out that they actually live in the same town. Y/n began to talk about how insane this all was but the conversation quickly drifted off to irrelevant topics. Now, she’s listening to him blabber on about his week and she can’t help but wonder how or why she’s come to enjoy this.

How did she somehow normalize the fact that she can talk to somebody through her mind? How could she actually be interested in this guy’s personal life after knowing him for less than two hours?

“So..I got it fixed but now I feel like I should just buy another car if the engine is gonna keep failing, ya know” he shares, but she’s too caught up in her thoughts to realize he asked her a question. “Y/n, you there?” he chuckled. She snaps out of her daze and apologizes. “I’m so sorry I was stuck in my head” she breathed.

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Fake – Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: EXO Baekhyun X Reader

Genre: Angst / Fluff

Word Count: 1,445

A/N thanks for requesting part 2! Here it is ❤ I never actually mention in part 1 the girl’s name… but she’s called mina in this


Baekhyun was so surprised at your swift departure that he couldn’t utter a single word. It was too late, you’d already left, the library door slamming behind you. Mina stood in front of Baekhyun, who was still situated in the bean bag, icy eyes following you as you left. A smirk toyed at her lips.

Baekhyun suddenly felt different, unsure and slightly nervous. The whole situation’s atmosphere had abruptly become intense, fierce, sharp. Everything that was to unfold depended on Baekhyun, and him alone. Your lack of presence meant you were no longer there to support him. He felt slightly lonely, your exit affecting him more than it should.

Something felt far away inside him, distant. His connection to Mina didn’t feel as clear, like someone had tampered with his carefully thought out plan. He had looked at Mina before with a schoolboy crush, and although now she stood in front of him, eyeing him up while he had full access, it didn’t seem to bloom into anything more. If anything, Baekhyun felt a protective barrier towards you, his friend, after her intimidation had led you to fleeing the building.

Baekhyun shook his head slightly, as if trying to rid himself from this new, foreign feeling. He finally had a chance with Mina, you had gone through so much to get him this far. Baekhyun almost felt like he couldn’t let your reluctant work go to waste, as if it would be letting you down. I might as well try it out. Baekhyun thought to himself. Maybe the unknown feelings would vanish then. Giving himself an excuse to carry out the process he had planned, Baekhyun allowed himself to connect with Mina for the night. Although a small voice in his mind warned him this experiment wasn’t to end in the way he had originally thought.

You felt numb. You regretted ever agreeing to the stupid idea. Obviously, it would only end up in tears and a cracked heart. Refusing to allow yourself to witness the flirting and the fall of your fake relationship, you’d escaped the library as fast as possible. Now, you sat in your bed, wrapped up in covers with messily tied up hair and black lines running down your face. You decided to watch crappy rom-coms on your laptop as an attempt to divert your mind.

A couple of movies later, you heard a click at your door and watched as Baekhyun let himself inside your room. His eyes found yours. He stood in the door frame, leaning against it and stuffing his hands inside his jacket pockets. A glance at the dark makeup sinisterly running from your eyes sent a stab of guilt to Baekhyun’s stomach.

You pulled your laptop screen down, leaving only the candlelight next to your bed as a source of light in the room. You noticed Baekhyun’s hair was wet, it must have been raining outside. His lips looked plump. You tried to stop images of Baekhyun and Mina flashing in your head, building a brick wall in your mind.

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun finally spoke. You didn’t reply, only wiping a tear that was threatening to spill down your cheek. “I’m sorry for being so blind about everything,” Baekhyun said, staring at the ground. “I’m confused about how I feel and… It’s all different. Everything is different.” He looked up to meet your gaze. You nodded. “And I’ll be honest: things did happen with Mina.” But she needn’t know what things happened, Baekhyun thought to himself. “I love our friendship,” he paused,”the way it is, but there are definitely feelings I need time to fully comprehend.”

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I'll Be A Better Man Today (3) - Reggie x Reader

Summary: Reggie pulls out all the stops to attempt to win you back.
Warnings: maybe a swear word
A/N: final part to this series! hope you all enjoyed this.

**

Friday finally dawned; as you crept out the front door you automatically looked towards the kerb. No Reggie. Were you disappointed or relieved? You couldn’t say for sure. Driving into the school lot, you noticed that Reggie was absent from there too. You didn’t know if this was a good sign - your heart ached a little at the thought of him giving up on you so quickly. You told yourself that if he refused to become a better person for his own sake, you didn’t need him. As much as it hurt to fully understand that, it was the truth.

The day went by, and you didn’t see Reggie until lunchtime. He passed by you in the hallway, a smile as big as the sun on his face. Half the football team were with him, but he paused momentarily to cheerfully greet not only you, but Jughead. When Jughead returned the smile - albeit a lower-watt version - you began to wonder if you had somehow crossed to an alternate dimension. Jughead noticed the way you stared at him; ‘You okay?’

You nodded, slowly. ‘Did Reggie just…’ you trailed off, unable to find the words. Jughead had to hide a knowing smile; instead, he just said, ‘you know, he hasn’t said or done anything to me since last week.’ Your eyes almost popped out of your head.
Your best friend nodded, carrying the conversation in a careful, calculated, casual tone. 'Yep. Not one bad word or any attempt at a physical assault. I’m surprised, too,’ he informed you. Glancing back over your shoulder, you caught a glimpse of the raven-haired boy as he entered a classroom. Had yesterday’s outburst really gotten through to him?

You and Jughead found the usual crew, sitting around a table outside. Still feeling off-balance at the revelation that it’s been a week since Reggie had done anything bad to Jughead, you were silent, deep in thought, as you sat next to Veronica. Jughead watched you, carefully. Time for phase two, he thought.

'So, Arch. You nervous for the big game tonight?’ The red-head chuckled and shrugged. 'Nah, Reggie’s been killing us in training, but I think it’s gonna do us good tonight.’ Turning to the three girls, including you, he posed the question, 'You’re all coming, right?’

Betty nodded and Veronica winked- 'as if we’d miss out on cheering for our favourite ginger!’ It was a silly question, really. The girls were River Vixens, and Cheryl would have their heads mounted to her wall if they failed to show up.

You, on the other hand, shook your head. 'No, I think I’m gonna stay home and study,’ you said apologetically. Jughead froze. This was not a part of the plan. He leaned in closer to you.

'C'mon, (Y/N/N), even I’m going,’ Betty smiled at this and reached to give his hand an appreciative squeeze. 'If I have to suffer, you do too,’ he teased, and felt victorious when a small laugh escaped your lips. 'I dunno, Jug. I- it’s - I’m just not sure I can handle it.’ You bit your lip, and Jughead caught Veronica’s questioningly glance. He’d explain later - right now, he needed to get you to attend the football match.

'Betty, tell her she has to come,’ he told his girlfriend in a faux-whiney voice. Betty smiled sympathetically at you. 'She doesn’t have to if she doesn’t want to,’ of course she’d side with you. She was too caring to force you into having to spend two hours watching your ex from the bleachers. Jughead cursed silently. He turned to Veronica, a pleading look on his face.

'I think you should come,’ she told you firmly, 'Show that jerk that he’s not going to stop you from living your best life with your best friends!’ She squeezed your elbow gently. You weren’t convinced. Jughead knew by your expression. You stood your ground all the way through break, and then Jughead lost his opportunity to keep insisting as you had separate classes for the rest of the day. He managed to grab you for a few seconds after final bell.

'I’ll be picking you up at six,’ he said, and ran off before you could say anything. Sure enough, at six o'clock that evening, he was on your doorstep. Your dad opened the door, smiling warmly at him.

'Hey, Mr. (Y/L/N). Is (Y/N) here?’
'No, I’m afraid not, Jughead. She’s gone to the library to study.’

Jughead officially went into panic mode. The match was due to start in an hour - Reggie had no idea he had failed to complete his part of the plan. He drove like a crazed man to the field, getting Moose to pass on a message when he entered the changing room.

Reggie stormed out, face screwed up angrily. 'What do you mean she isn’t coming?’ He demanded, face hot and flushed. 'She’s gone to the library, what am I supposed to do, physically drag her out?’ Reggie considered it for a split second - then came to his senses. 'Go talk to her,’ he begged the smaller boy. 'Please. Just don’t tell her what I have planned.’

Jughead knew it was probably a lost cause. But the look of fear on Reggie’s face at the thought of losing you forever made it impossible to deny him. He agreed, and drove across town to the local library, seeking you out. His nerves were shot, as he whispered your name walking through the many shelves of books. You were nowhere to be seen. He called you - straight to voicemail. Text messages went unseen and as the clock ticked on and crept closer to seven, Jughead wondered if he should just give up now. The thought of having to face Reggie and tell him again she wasn’t coming, for definite this time, twisted his insides into an uncomfortable knot. He decided to go to Pops, and return to the game when it had already started. He actually felt sorry for Reggie - he’d seen how much of a mess he was since you had ended things. For once, Jughead got to see the man you knew, the caring and sensitive side to someone Jughead had always thought was just a meathead jock.

**
Pop’s was quiet, most people attending the Bulldog match against Liberty High, a long-time nemesis of the school. He leaned against the counter, drumming his fingers across the cool top, eyes shifting to note the time. Eleven minutes past seven. The game had begun. Without (Y/N).

He noticed something in the corner of his eye - a blur of movement. Relief floored him as he saw you, sunk low into your seat, hood pulled over your forehead, sitting in a booth at the bottom of the restaurant. You had seen him enter, and had panicked. When you realised you were spotted, your shoulders slumped in defeat. Jughead sprinted to you, demanding to know why you had lied to your dad.

'Because I knew whatever he said, you’d go looking,’ you explained in a voice that said, isn’t in obvious? Grinding his teeth together, Jughead opened his mouth, but you cut him off quickly. 'I am not going to that damn match, Jughead.’ Your voice was flat, tough as a brick wall. He relented, pulling the half-drank milkshake across to take a sip. Sitting opposite you, Pop himself came down to take his order - his usual, and nothing for you.
A brainwave hit like lightening. He took out his phone and texted Betty.

to; Betty
go down to reggie at half time & tell him to go ahead with the plan

Seconds later, the screen lit up with a response.

from; Betty
what plan??

to; Betty
just tell him that, and video call me when he gets up on the stage

After a moment, he tapped out another text.

to; Betty
i’ll explain later i promise x

from; Betty
okay x

He smiled - then wiped it off his face when he realised you were staring at him, suspicion rife across your features. Pop placed a burger in front of him, and left you a fresh milkshake - 'on the house’ - which you accepted gratefully. You both sat silently. Which wasn’t anything new - oftentimes you both went to Pop’s and sat without speaking, you working on homework or a new entry to your journal, Jughead tapping away at his laptop as he wrote up his novel.

Jughead ate slowly, every so often looking to the clock on the wall, counting down the minutes. You didn’t notice, finding the contents of your milkshake too interesting to lift your eyes from the bottom of the glass. Finally, Jughead’s phone buzzed again. Betty’s smiling face filled the screen; he took a moment to just appreciate his girlfriend and then answered. She came into view, the camera quality a little off, the sounds of the roaring crowd filtering through the mic.

'Hey!’ She spoke loudly, and Jughead asked her to turn the phone towards the stage. Reggie was already standing up by the mic on the stage. In the background, Ronnie was pestering Betty with questions about what he was doing. 'What’s going on, Jug?’ The blonde asked, exasperated, the camera switching back to her face. 'Just go closer to the stage,’ he urged, and handed the phone to you.

You took it, questioningly. Jughead just nodded, and you frowned as you realised what you were looking at.

'Jughead, what is this?’

'Just watch.’

You knew you wouldn’t get any information from him, you resigned yourself to seeing what would unfold. Reggie was adjusting the mic to his height, covered in sweat and mud and looking far too good for someone so dirty. 'Hello, everybody!’ His voice boomed through the field, crackling over the line. Pop heard it, and sent an inquisitive look their way.

'I hope you’re all having fun tonight!’ The crowd responded with loud cheers, and you resisted the urge to turn the volume down. 'As many of you know,’ the football captain continued, 'I have been dating (Y/N) (Y/L/N) for a few months now.’

Your heart leapt to your throat. What was he doing?

'Well, last weekend, she ended things,’ now there were boos, and you felt shamed and embarrassed. 'But she was right to,’ this time, silence met his announcement. 'I have been an absolute jerk towards many students in this school. I think I just got so used to it, and it became a habit. But that is no excuse. I wanted to take this moment to apologise profusely to anyone I have ever harassed or belittled, or just been an ass to. I especially want to say I’m sorry to Jughead Jones. Now, he isn’t here tonight, neither is (Y/N), and I don’t blame her for not showing up. But, if things have gone right, she is watching this from somewhere right now. I hope she is. (Y/N), I am so in love with you, and the past five days have been hell without you. You have shown me that I don’t need to be a jerk to feel better about myself. Every day with you is all I need to be happy. I know I have a long way to go, and a lot of things to make up for. But I promise you, if you give me the chance, I will never let you down again.’

Pop had wandered over towards your booth somewhere in the middle of Reggie’s heartfelt speech. You were in a state of shock. Betty had turned the phone back to her and you passed it over to Jughead. He spoke to his girl but you felt deaf to whatever they were saying. Frozen to your seat, a hand on your shoulder drew you back to reality. Pop stared down at you, smiling knowingly. 'Go and get him,’ he told you in his deep voice. You met Jughead’s eyes. He was smiling.

'You knew about this.’ It wasn’t a question.

'Yep.’ He popped the p at the end of the word; you giggled, still in shock. 'Shall we go?’ He asked, standing up and offering you a hand. After a seconds hesitation, you took it.

**

The game was coming to an end when Jughead pulled in. You got out of the car, nervous, excited. The two of you stood at the side of the bleachers, watching as the final whistle blew, and the Bulldogs were declared the winners. Jughead could only roll his eyes as Moose, Reggie, and Archie all collided in an aggressive victory hug. Smashing off each other and whooping. Jughead pushed you forward. The nerves drowned out of everything else; you felt rooted to the spot. Reggie suddenly looked around - searching for you. In the shadows, you watched his face fall, all happiness draining out of his body as disappointment washed over. That was all you needed to make your feet move.

He almost missed you walking to him. It was only when you stopped right in front of him, and he kept walking, blinded by his thoughts, that he saw you. He gripped your shoulders automatically as he almost knocked you over, lifting his eyes from the muddy grass to apologise. He paused - you were there. You were with him. All words deserted him. He could stand there, his hands feeling your solid warmth. You were here.

'I can’t believe you did that,’ you told him, a smile playing on the edge of your lips. You were looking at him so softly, so … so lovingly, it almost broke his heart again. 'I meant every word,’ he promised, holding you tighter, afraid you would slip from his grasp should he let go. You nodded, and stepped closer, your bodies pressed together. His breath hitched.

'I know.’

It was only a whisper, but it felt like a scream to him. He dragged you in, lifting you up and spinning you around in a vice grip of a hug, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

'I am never letting go of you again,’ he mumbled against the skin. You felt mud smearing across your skin, but in that moment, you didn’t care. You pulled back, and saw panic flashing in his features as he thought you were trying to get away.

Then, you rested your hand against his cheek, hot, slick with sweat. Your eyes flickered to his lips briefly. 'Reggie?’
'Yeah?’

The words were so quiet you could both barely hear them, only that you were so close together that your breath mingled with his.

'Kiss me.’

Reggie didn’t need to be told twice. He slotted his lips against yours, kissing you once, twice, furthering the third one by angling your head to the side by curling his fingers through your hair. You were vaguely aware of the River Vixens and the rest of the bulldogs cheering you on. But all you could feel, taste, smell, was Reggie. He surrounded you completely, as you did him. When you broke apart for air, your foreheads touched.

'I love you, (Y/N).’

'I love you, Reggie.’