bruises t

Okay but. Stiles doesn’t touch anyone else in the series the way he touches Lydia.

It’s actually insane, the way he touches her. His hands are always on her, it’s like they’re just drawn to her. He has this constant, natural, knee-jerk instinct to let her know with his hands that he’s there for her, that he’s not going anywhere, that he cares.

And, above all, that’s soft. Think about all the times that Jackson touched her and if it didn’t bruise her skin, it bruised pieces of her mind. And then there’s Stiles Stilinski, who touches her face like she’s so beautiful he’s afraid to break her. Who touches her back to guide her through doorways because after all those years of making out with Jackson in public places with absolutely zero decency, he still perceives her to be a goddamn lady. Who holds her hand when she needs comfort or to run because touching her feels like it matters.

He doesn’t make conscious decisions to be there for her like that. He doesn’t think to himself “Okay, now I’m gonna touch Lydia’s elbow.” He just does it, and he never second guesses. And how weird is that? Because Lydia has never indicated to him that it’s okay, and yet it is. They both know it is.

Stiles doesn’t place his hand on anybody else’s back when he walks through doorways with them. He doesn’t make eye contact in the same way. He doesn’t give people huge, enormous chunks of himself without expecting something back.

This is for Lydia. Lydia, who has never been treated delicately, who has never been loved as fully as this, who has gone through her life thinking that the best thing for her to do is draw a veil between herself and who she projects to the world.

Stiles lifts the veil without ever asking for it to be removed. He teaches her what genuine affection and love feels like. He fucking pays attention to her in ways that are deeper than even STILES grasps.

And sometimes I just think that Stiles said he was in love with her, he shouted it from the rooftops, but even then, he didn’t understand how in love with her he was. He didn’t understand how incredibly unique it was to be magnetized towards someone like this. When they touch each other, it feels like the millionth time and the first time simultaneously.

I don’t think he realizes just how much he loves her until suddenly it builds up and makes him physically weak.

He watches her bleeding out on that floor and he can’t move because the love he feels for her is thumping through his veins and he’s fucking shocked by it. He’s literally taken aback by how much he loves her.

He knew. He knew. But… maybe a part of him didn’t.

Maybe he touched her like that, all these years, because his hands knew what his head hadn’t caught up to, no matter how many times he fixated on Lydia Martin and fell asleep thinking about her and watched her in class.

Because as valuable as Stiles Stilinsk’s head is, maybe his body knew way before he did that Lydia Martin was the person whose skin would become home to his hands.

i’m so sick of writing about my heart as if it’s this beaten up, bloody thing. i’m so sick of it being something i’m ashamed to look at. i’m so sick of throwing it against the pavement, breaking it open for everyone to see, opening up my wounds for entertainment. i’m sick of my pain being an art museum of broken things. i’m sick of the only thing people knowing about me is how much i bleed.

because the truth is this: my heart, it’s still beating. and that’s beautiful, no matter what even my own self tries to tell me. isn’t it amazing how your heart keeps beating through every bruise? isn’t it amazing how no matter how much somebody takes from you, you still have more to give? isn’t it amazing? tell me it isn’t. tell me you think something else means more than the fact that i’m still living. the fact that if you’re reading this, you’re still living too, despite everything.

so no more sad poems. no more opening up old wounds. no more staring contests with the things that broke me. no more dwelling on every crack when i am still a whole, complete person. i’m so sick of giving myself a disclaimer: a “i’m hard to love,” an “i’m crazy,” because the truth is i’ve been hurt, but i’m still pretty kind, and that is truly amazing.

—  i’m going to be happy if it kills me

anonymous asked:

What would dating Peter Parker be like?

Requested by anon

Originally posted by v-writings

Dating Peter Parker Would Include

- omg bless this pure precious child

- a relationship with him would honestly be so pure and wonderful

- you would be one of the few people he would trust with his Spiderman secret

- you would also be the person that he would come to get small patch ups (cuts and bruises that didn’t require actual medical attention)

- you would be super protective of him though so you have to make sure he doesn’t do anything really stupid

- “hey, (Y/N), wanna see if I can swing from here to the pool across the street?”


- sometimes he would listen to you, other times require a trip to the emergency room

- he’d be so fluffy with you though, but also super shy

- you would have to initiate a lot of the PDA that goes on while his cheeks just turn bright red

- sure as hell wouldn’t complain though

- whenever you kiss him, your hands would go to his cheeks to you could feel how warm they were getting because of his blush

- likes to face you when cuddling so you can talk, but your legs are all tangled together and everything under a blanket or something

- loves hugging you super tight to his chest because he feels like that is the safest you will ever be with him

- you always making sure that he keeps up with notes and homework while he’s off saving the city

- you covering for him when he has to escape from class to take care of something

- you always having snacks on you because he is literally always hungry… ALWAYS

- super cute random dates like bowling and karaoke, but also nights in where you watch “old movies” like Star Wars and Lord of the Rings

- Aunt May always letting you in if Peter wasn’t at home because she absolutely adores you

- everyone around you is super jealous of how cute you are together

- I feel like he would adore giving you piggyback rides. I don’t know why, but I just do.

- whenever Peter feels stressed or sad, you would just bring him to cuddle on top of you and you just lay there running your hand through his hair

- loves giving you forehead kisses because its sweet and romantic

- honestly he’s such a puppy and such a precious awkward tol bean that must be protected at all costs. He would be so smitten and attached to you and would always put you first. He would be your top priority, and you would absolutely do anything for each other.

Sunday Morning - Jeff Atkins

#12: “Is there any part of you that isn’t bruised?”

#16: “Is that my shirt?” “Maybe.”

#17: “I’m pregnant.”

#23: "I had a dream about you”

#19: “Of course I love you.”

A/N: #17 was requested a ton, so I combined it with a couple other ones too!

Tagged: @rashnaxo

You had rolled over in your bed to see you beautiful boyfriend, Jeff, sleeping next to you. Him just laying in bed next to you made your heart flutter. After admiring his beauty, you wrapped your arm around his middle, laying your head on his chest. He lets out a heavy sigh as he stretches from his slumber, his eyes slowly opening.

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late night kiss pt. 6

whaA/N: wow, uh. it’s been almost 5 months since i updated this story… please forgive me, i have made it longer than all the other parts for you all……. please don’t kill me over the ending also no worries, this isn’t the last part

summary: Following Peter to confirm your suspicions has some unforeseen consequences.

pairing: peter parker x reader

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 

You’d laid in your bed, awake until two hours before you had to get up for school, and thought about Spider-Man and Peter.

They had to be the same person. They just had to be.

There were three main reasons why you were convinced that Peter Parker was Spider-Man.

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I Can Tell

Fandom: Marvel/Avengers

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: Minor angst, but it turns into fluff

Writer: @imaginesofeveryfandom aka @thequeenofthehobbits

Summary/Request: Requested by anon:  Hey could you please do a Bucky oneshot based of ‘I Can Tell’ by Adelitas Way. Thankyou😊

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everentropy  asked:

Do you have Ehlers-Danlos or are you just really flexible? (I have a mild form of EDS myself)

Probably not? I’ve got somewhat above average skin elasticity, at least on my face and joints, and many of my joints hyperextend, but I don’t bruise particularly easily and have never dislocated or broken anything or had any other notable health problems. 

“Are you two ready to leave for dinner or what?” The sound of Niall’s voice combined with knocking on the door made you scramble off of Harry, the two of you rushing to pick abandoned pieces of clothing strewn across the floor. It was obvious both of you had lost track of time… Your dinner reservations were at 8, you had gotten ready by 7:20, but Harry just looked so good in his suit that you couldn’t help yourself! (Harry didn’t mind your friskiness at all.)

“One sec, Niall!” You replied, nearly stumbling over as you tried to zip your dress back up while slipping into your heels. Meanwhile, Harry was buttoning his shirt back up, throwing his tie back around his neck. It was only when you caught sight of yourself in the mirror that you realized: Walking outside with smudged lipstick and a couple small blooming bruises probably wasn’t the best idea. Especially when paps and fans could expose you and your pictures would be floating around on the internet for the rest of eternity. 

“Are you ready?” Harry puffed out, stepping into his boots and reaching down to fix the buckle. 

No, I’m not ready! My lipstick is everywhere and- You shouldn’t have given me hickeys, Harry! It’s hard to cover them up…” 

“You shouldn’t have pounced on me in the first place!” Touché. 

“I’ll be back. Distract them!” You hissed, gesturing towards the door before you were rushing over to the washroom. 


“What’s taking you so bloody long?” Harry’s head whipped towards the door as it swung open, smiling sheepishly at the rest of the boys. 

“Y/N’s in the washroom, that’s all.” Harry shrugged casually, clearing his throat before plopping himself down on the couch. “Jus’ touching up her makeup, y’know!” (Keep in mind Harry wasn’t the greatest liar.) 

“Y/N, let’s go! I swear I’ll drag you outta the washroom if you don’t move faster!” Louis screamed, lips tugging up in a smile when you replied with a charming ‘Come in here and I’ll shove my heel up your-’ …You know. 

“You didn’t even fix your tie yet, Harry.” Liam snorted, pointing to the tie that was still wrapped loosely around Harry’s neck. “And you’ve got- Is that… Is that lipstick on your collar?” There was a moment in which Harry and the rest of the boys had a mini stare-off, Harry quickly reaching up to brush his fingers over the collar of his shirt. 


“Then explain the lipstick on your shirt, dummy.”

“She bumped into me by accident. Accidents happen!”

“…What were you and Y/N doing before we came in?” 

“Watching TV.” 

“What were you watching?” 

“I mean, we were on Youtube.” 

“Watching what?” 

“Buzzfeed videos!” 

“Is t’is a ramen soup packet?” Niall asked cluelessly, Harry’s eyes widening once he caught sight of the open condom packet in between Niall’s fingers that he had picked up from underneath the couch. 

“Alright, let’s go eat! I don’t know if I’m going to eat that much - I had a huge lunch.” Your heels clicked against the ground as you made your way over to the boys, your makeup looking nice and crisp. You hadn’t done a great job with the hickeys but hopefully, they weren’t that noticeable. 

“Obviously you’re not goin’ to each that much. You spoiled your appetite by eating ramen!” Niall snorted, rolling his eyes before tossing the torn packet into the bin. “You’re so silly, Y/N!”



gif isn’t mine! 

He didn’t beat me with his fists
But he did beat me with his words
The bruises weren’t on my body
But on my mind and soul
And engraved in my bones
That lingered
Years later
No matter how much I tried
To erase it all
—  melindacarolinee

I want to tattoo that photo of Messi taking off his shirt and showing it to everyone’s face at Bernabéu after scoring his 500th goal as the last minute winner of El Clásico where he also became the player with most goals at Los Merengues stadium in Clásico history including RM players while he was bloodied and bruised on my forehead

anonymous asked:

US, UF, and SF bros, who is more likely to leave graby bruises on s/o in their sleep? Like I had a bf that left little bruises on my boobs and butt in his sleep xD aggressive cuddling?? Lol!!



Blue doesn’t leave bruises because of cuddling, but he’s a kicker so you’d either wake up on the floor or bruises on your body from his kicks. 


Stretch is a MAJOR cuddler, sometimes he cuddles too hard in his sleep so you’d  wake up unable to breathe, rather than bruises. 



Watch out, Red has a tendency to grope you in your sleep, touching your uhh, private areas unintentionally (*disclaimer* He won’t do it if you’re uncomfortable with that, he only does it because he can). You’d wake up with his hands down your pants and he will leave bruises on your chest or sometimes your neck form biting. 


Nope, it’s perfectly safe to sleep with the Great and Terrible Papyrus. He only cuddles when you want to and it’s not aggressive. 



DUDE YES! DIS BOI WILL HURT YOU. Black doesn’t do it on purpose, but he has a pretty tight grip and he’s a heavy sleeper so he might accidentally squeeze you to death, leaving you bruises on your ribs or stomach. 


No, he does not dare leave a mark on his highness. 

The first of my early morning, coffee induced ficlets. Hopefully they’re not trash.

Prompt: markings like little bruises and cuts that you get but don’t know where they came from are actually from your soulmate.

         Normally the whole “my soulmate is such a klutz, that’s why I always have bruises on my shins” thing is cute. Tim doesn’t know why people’s loved ones always sustaining minor injuries is supposed to be adorable. For him it’s fucking terrifying. Then again, minor wasn’t really a word ever included in Tim’s experience.

           It started when he was seven, when he woke up one morning to bruises covering his chest and coloring his knuckles. It looked like his soulmate had gotten into a fight, which…was fair. Boys were always roughhousing at recess, it wouldn’t be uncalled for for things to get out of hand. Tim understood.

           The problem arose when the bruises didn’t stop coming, new ones appearing every few nights. They only got worse as time went on, as if Tim’s soulmate had only grown more reckless over the years. By middle school Tim’s body looked like a battle ground, always covered in great splotches of deep blues and purples, or the fading shades of brown and yellow. He collected scars like he did Magic the Gathering cards. It didn’t matter that Timothy Drake loved photography and table top games and playing his cello, it looked like he went into the woods to wrestle bears for fun in his spare time. Sometimes he wondered how his soulmate was still alive, if they were still alive. It was almost reassuring sometimes to find a new bruise after a period of only fading marks.

           The bruises that sometimes appeared on Tim’s neck were always what scared him the most. They were usually in the shape of fingers wrapped around his neck and holy shit Tim’s soulmate almost got strangled to death, what the fuck? Stephanie helpfully suggested one day that maybe the strangulation marks were from really kinky sex, but considering Tim was nine when he got his first one he really didn’t want to think about that. Not that the former option was any better though.

           The worse the marks got the more random do-gooders and concerned teachers began to pester Tim as well. He was constantly faced with questions about how his parents were treating him at home, or if he knew there were resources available to him about the problem he had with hurting himself. Don’t get Tim wrong, he was glad there were concerned citizens in the world for people who actually had these problems, but each time he was confronted with someone trying to help he always had to explain that no, he simply had a soulmate that was apparently determined not to meet him since they apparently liked to pick a fight with everything that moved.

           Tim finally met Jason when he was at the Gotham Community Pool closest to his house. He had been dragged there by Stephanie, who wanted to go to the beach when Tim was on spring break, but refused to until Tim learned how to swim better so he wouldn’t drown when her back was turned. Tim was wearing a shirt with his swim trunks to avoid the Concerned Gaze of strangers, but Jason, King of I Don’t Give a Fuck, had decided to show as much skin as possible and work on his tan.

           Tim had seen him lounging on a reclined deck chair from where he had his feet in the shallow end, spotted the bruise shaped like a Micky Mouse head above his left hip bone in exactly the same place Tim’s was, and thrown a pool noodle at him like it was a fucking javelin. It hit Jason square in the chest, causing him to raise his sunglasses up in surprise just in time to see Tim marching towards him.

           “You,” he said, finger pointed at Jason’s face, inches away from his nose. “You are the reason I’m always black and blue. What is wrong with you? Is it a medical condition? Are you just that much of an asshole that everyone wants to punch you?”

           Jason, for his part, was very confused. Usually soulmates recognized each other when they first touched and were shocked by the contact, or because fate kept bringing them together. Hardly ever was it due to recognized bruise patterns. When Jason didn’t seem to catch on Tim stripped off his own shirt to reveal the map of scars and bruises littering his skin that were an exact replica of Jason’s. The poor boy’s eyes nearly fell out of his skull at the reveal. Dick, who had been sitting next to Jason the whole time, choked on his umbrella drink.

           The meeting of two soulmates was always at least a somewhat joyous occasion, and Tim and Jason were no exception, but it was clear that Tim demanding to know why Jason got beat up so much made him uncomfortable. Jason knew that lying to his soulmate would make him feel uncomfortable and dirty, but at the same time there was no way he could just tell this kid that he ran around at night as a masked vigilante. Dick managed to cover for him by telling Tim that he was right, Jason was pretty much a huge asshole and people were always wanting to beat him up over it. Jason was only a little bit offended that Tim immediately took that as fact and moved on, but at least it didn’t discourage Tim from wanting to get to know him. After all, Stephanie said that meant they were practically made for each other.

           (Jason eventually learned that Tim hadn’t actually let the subject go that day, and had pretty quickly thereafter figured out Jason’s secret. It only took them a few months to finally talk about it because Tim was awkward about it and wasn’t sure how to bring it up. He hadn’t freaked out, like Jason had expected, which was good, though he did ask Jason to try and be more careful. Jason was already on it, as seeing your fuck ups painted all over your lover’s body was kind of disturbing, even if it didn’t bring them any actual pain. He started taking wearing thicker armor more seriously, thanks to everyone’s peace of mind).

doctorwhoandrory  asked:

peter quill + 4, 66 & 81 ❤ also, i love you and your works ❤

Characters: Reader x Peter Quill

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of abusive relationship and violence

Prompts: 4: “Who gave you that black eye?” 66: “I won’t let you get hurt.” 81: “I’ll take care of it.”

Word Count: 309

A/N: I love you thank you !! (and i know bruises don’t develop this fast but let’s pretend they do for the sake of this story)


“Hey, Peter.” you grabbed Peter’s arm and he spun around, and he breathed out a sigh of relief. He put his drink down at the bar and turned around to face you fully.

“Where have you been?” he asked. “I’ve been trying to find you for ages.”

“I, uh…” you trailed off, looking away. “Just saw someone from the past.”

“Ominous.” Peter teased, but you didn’t smile. He paused, and looked at you more closely. The bar was dimly lit, but he suddenly realized your right eye was slightly swollen and bruised. Clenching his fists, he looked around. “Who gave you that black eye?”

“No one.” you tried to brush it off, but Peter shook his head.

“Where are they?” Peter demanded. He knew one of your exes was abusive, and he could deduce that they were the ‘someone from the past’ you had run into.

“Peter, don’t.” you reached out to grab his hand, but Peter still scanned the bar. You reached out to touch his face, turning him towards you. “Peter, let’s just leave.”

“I won’t let you get hurt.” Peter held his face in your hands, and you gave him a small smile. He leaned over to kiss you quickly, and when he looked behind you, he saw your ex talking to someone else at another table. Letting his hands drop from your face, he began marching over to them.

“What are you going to do?” you asked hurriedly, as Peter rushed by you. You watched as Peter turned around and walked backwards a few steps, giving you a grin.

“I’ll take care of it.” he winked, before turning around and grabbing your ex’s shoulder. 

“Wha-?” your ex spluttered, turning around, and Peter raised his fist.

“This is for y/n.” he grunted, before striking your ex across the face, and the bar exploded into chaos.
Metamorphosis - Manga_Otaku121344 - Voltron: Legendary Defender [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron), Pidge (Voltron), Coran (Voltron), Allura (Voltron), galra keith - Character
Additional Tags: klance, but only if you set your microscope to 40x, based off a comic by littlecofiegirl on tumblr, Keith turning galra, Keith internalizing his problems and letting them fester causing him constant worry, insecurities of physical appearance, a tiny bit of angst maybe?, Family Fluff, past orphan/foster child keith, canon compliant AU, Galra Keith (Voltron), cheesey ending is cheesey

It started as a bruise Keith had received when they visited The Blade of Marmora headquarters. A common bruise isn’t something to worry over or warrant a stay in a healing pod. Then again, common bruises don’t usually trigger a metamorphosis, a metamorphosis he is trying to keep secret. One thing Keith knew was certain, his knife wasn’t the only thing that awoken during the trial.

After Shiro’s disappearance Keith must step into the role of leadership. It’s now more crucial than ever that no one else learns of his gradual transformation. If the others found out, there is no telling how they would they react. For Christ sake, the leader of Voltron is turning into a quiznaking Galra! But of course they would be perfectly okay with it since it worked so well the first time!

The fic starts right after Keith and Shiro return from Marmora hq and progresses through the rest of season 2 and then some.

Based off a wonderful comic by @littlecofiegirl !!
Keeping Us Down Is Impossible

falling in love, fighting monsters and hopefully graduating high school

aka the Bellarke Power Rangers au no one asked for

inspired by this gifset

Originally posted by kcismyreligion

Chapter 1: Mantle Full of Freedom

Bellamy thinks his life could been divided into a series of before and after’s. Until 3 months ago, the Before referred to seconds before Octavia’s birth and the subsequent ending of his childhood, but now Before refers to all that happened before falling into a caravan and finding a bunch of glowing rocks that gave him superpowers and amazing friends.

He knows that things are different now, bruises that didn’t happen before are now almost normal. He’s been fighting bad guys in one way or another for most of his life, fighting against the system, fighting against Octavia’s rebelliousness, fighting against people doubting him because he comes from the wrong side of the tracks. Because he wears raggedy clothes, carries beat up second hand textbook and swears and smokes like it’s his job. But fighting against Zedd, fighting against Ice King, fighting against foot soldiers and giant monsters made from nightmares, that type of fighting is different because for once he’s not alone. For once, he has his teammates at his back and even though they come from different groups, he thinks he could love them forever.

Read the rest on Ao3 here

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