but whatever it took a long time okay

Oh Captain!// Steve Rogers x Reader (P2)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x POC Reader
Word Count: 2k+
Warning: Language, fluff, smut, unprotected sex (WRAP YOUR WANG BEFORE YOU BANG), slight dry humping, bit of dirty talk, a little Sub!Steve…if you squint and cock your head at a 45 degree angle.
Summary: Steve bares all, in more ways than one. How is anyone supposed to resist this god-forsakenly beautiful man? You don’t; you give into temptation and enjoy the ride. Sometimes Steve’s smart mouth gets him into trouble. Bonus: Bruce is so cute when he’s embarrassed.

A/N: I’m still getting the hang of this smut thing so pls bear with me. Idk why tf I’m so damn shy about writing it when I’m sinful as hell irl.  Also bless you @emilyevanston for reminding me that Steve is so much more than just Captain America. Sorry this took so long, hopefully the fic makes up for the long ass wait! Feedback is absolutely appreciated.

Originally posted by ohevansmycaptain

Previously on Oh Captain!

Keep reading

“You’ve been told that you’re broken. That you’re damaged goods … there is also Post-Traumatic Growth. You come back from war stronger and more sure of who you are. “ - General Mad Dog Mattis

Mattis was talking to a group of veterans when he said this. I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes here, what with me being a civilian and talking about this. It resonated with me a lot and I think the message itself is important enough to be taken out of context.

The concept of post-traumatic growth is a very solid one. In our society there’s so much focus on the negative things that happen to people. There’s a lot of focus on being a victim, even a victim of your circumstances, and yet little focus on learning to cope, live, accept the bad shit, and then move on. Yes, there are groups that can help people deal with that sort of thing, but there’s still something of a social stigma around getting help for certain things, even incredibly traumatic ones. 

Now, to be clear, I’m talking about heavy traumatic events that changed your life. I’m going to stick to the context of physical trauma. I can only speak from my experience with my spinal cord injury, and what I went through to come to accept it. With that being said, learning to cope with a physically altered body isn’t easy. You feel like you’re in someone else’s body. Things just don’t work right. you don’t move the way you used it. This feeling varies, I’m sure, from person to person and injury to injury. Often times there’s serious constant pain, or so many pain killers you simply don’t feel like yourself.

That’s just the physical side of things. The mental picture is a whole different ballgame entirely. Everyone copes with things differently. You put two people through the same exact series of events and they will come out with two different outlooks.This is where shifting the focus to Post-Traumatic Growth could be very helpful. You are not damaged, you are just different. I’m not saying yell, “get over it” into people’s faces. You have to grieve. It’s a very necessary process. Sometimes you have to grieve for the person you used to be.

Let’s talk recovery. Recovery isn’t the miracle stories that make the news. Recovery isn’t that girl that was temporarily paralyzed and greeted her therapist two weeks later in that video that was going around a few months back. Recovery is not returning to “normal” There isn’t a normal. You are not the same as you were and that’s okay. You have to accept this, come to terms with it, and learn deal with it in your own way. Obviously humor is one of my coping mechanisms. There are some people, especially in the disabled SCI community that never really accept it. They avoid contact with other disabled people. They don’t want to accept their position, or maybe they’re just scared. Whatever the reason, I can both understand that and tell you it isn’t healthy. I was there. I threw myself into physical therapy with the hope of getting back on my feet again. While it was very good for me, and helped me a lot, it did not get me back on my feet again. It took me a very long time to accept that it just wasn’t going to, and that’s okay. 

There is strength in learning to accept yourself. Tough isn’t biting your lip, sucking it up, and ignoring your issues. Tough is working through it, overcoming it, and becoming a better person because of it. You can still live an amazing full life. No, it’s not going to be the same. Yes, parts of it are going to suck like hell. There are going to bad days. Use them, grow with them. Find something new in your life to enjoy and learn to kick ass at it. You do not have to be a victim of your circumstances.

Just my two cents, take it as you will.

Something New

Summary: Sam and Y/N are pretty calm when it comes to sex. But Sam wants to try something new. He’s a little nervous not knowing how she’ll react to having anal sex. 

 Characters: Sam Winchester. Reader 

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader 

 Warnings: NSFW, anal sex, unprotected sex (suit up), oral sex (female receiving), language 

 Word Count: 2,675

 Request:  Can you do one about anal sex with Sam? -Anonymous 

 A/N: a Thanks @impala-dreamer for beta reading this. I hope y'all enjoy feedback is welcomed.

Originally posted by frozen-delight




Y/N is sitting there on the bed staring at me with those big and beautiful Y/E/C eyes. I’m leaning against the wall, watching as the book she was reading slowly slips out of her hands. She’s in shock but hell, I guess any normal girl would be too after what I just asked of her. Her cheeks and the tips of her ears flush as her jaw drops slightly. The poor thing must be replaying my words over and over in her head, unsure of what she should say.

“Hey,” I finally speak up, running my fingers through my hair, “it’s like I said, we don’t need to do it I was-” I clear my throat, running my hand over my slightly stubbled chin, her eyes are locked on mine, “I was just wanting to know if you were interested in trying it.”

Keep reading

Night Time Fun (Dean x Reader)

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader 

Length: 1014+ words

TW: Condoms

A/N: This just came to me in the middle of the night, and I wrote it literally in 15 minutes. I’ve been so bad with writing Hamilton fics, and I just keep writing Dean fics… I seriously gotta get my Ham jam back. 


“Dean?” she whispered, opening his door a bit, letting the dark room be illuminated by the hallway light. “Dean?”

The man groaned, recognizing her voice, and buried his head in his pillow.

“Dean-”

“What?” he snapped, turning his head to her.

“Sorry to bug you, but can I borrow some condoms?”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Please? I just need a few.”

“A few?! Why the fuck do you need a few condoms?”

“Please, Dean? I know you have a bunch!” She made her way to his bedside drawer, opening the top shelf, and grabbing a few of the packets in her hands. “You don’t mind, right?”

Dean took a few deep breaths. They’ve been playing a game of cat and mouse these past few months, tip-toeing on the border of friendship, and something more. God, he wanted so much more. But he couldn’t. Not without absolute certainty that he wouldn’t be rejected, and even then, it would take a lot for him to put that kind of pressure on her. He wouldn’t do it. Nope. He could never ever tell her of his feelings towar-

“I like you,” he blurted out.

Well… At least he told her.

“What?” She looked taken aback.

“Fuck. I didn’t think I would ever tell you this, but I like you… A lot. So, please don’t go to that guy with those condoms- please don’t- please don’t fuck him, don’t- I know it’s not fair, and if you really want to I won’t stop you, but please don’t.” He ran his hand through his hair, the word vomit he just threw up wasn’t enough to physically showcase his frustration.

“Dean,” she said a little more quietly this time.

He sighed, turning his head away, and taking her silence for rejection. “Sorry for ruining your night, sweetheart. You can go see him. I won’t say anything else, and we can forget this whole conversation happened.” Dean could hear her footsteps approaching the door, and his heart sank. There was a part of him that wished- no, prayed, that he wasn’t reading the signals wrong. That she might actually like him back. That he actually had a chance with her. Alas, some prayers weren’t meant to be answered. That is, until he felt his jeans hit him right in the face. “What the fuck?”

“C’mon,” she motioned for him to follow her. Her eyes gleaming with mischief and excitement. “Get up! I wanna show you something.”

“No.”

“Dean, c’mon. Please? I’ll make this worth your time!”

There was no force in the world that would make him say no to her. So, he sluggishly got out of bed, putting on his jeans, and picking up his jacket while following her out of his bedroom. They were just leaving the bunker when she spoke again.

“Do you wanna use those condoms with me?”

Keep reading

What If?

Title: What If?
Summary: You indulge yourself in a harmless passion, following a train of thought, but when Mikey catches a glimpse it may not be so harmless after all.
Author: Velcr0Kitty
Characters: Mikey (2016) x Reader
Word Count: 1846
Warnings: Angst, fluff, body image… issues? I guess?
Author’s Notes: Welcome to my first fic, I’m so sorry. I seriously didn’t expect it to become so sad my original idea was so happy ;-;

You drift to the bottom of the sketchbook and scrawl a title of sorts.

What If - Mikey

Under it, you put your signature. It’s hard to deny your feelings for the charismatic turtle, but with that whole “different species” issue complicating things you doubted the feelings would ever be mutual. That hasn’t stopped your daydreams yet.

You never imagined you’d be in a situation where you even could think that. Once upon a time you could only imagine yourself with your beloved art degree in a pleasant flat somewhere other than NYC. You would be a master of your passion and your passion, a career. Before you got your chance, however, your best friend fell very ill. You spent your time with her, being supportive. This was the snowball that became the avalanche.

Your friend was released after a few weeks. Then in succession, like a machine gun of shit, your mother died in a car accident, you were hostage in a bank robbery, your new apartment building out of town exploded (You didn’t honestly believe the landlord at first). Three foot clan attacks and a load more bull-shit later, you were broke, homeless, family-less and living, quite literally, under a rock (a storm a few months prior had upturned it in central park.) That’s where the turtles found you. Dirty, starving, and huddled up under a blanket some random do-gooder’s gave you. Though you suspect it was mostly Donnie’s doing, for whatever reason, they took you in and welcomed you into their home.

That was three years ago. Over those three wonderful years, they nursed you back to health, welcomed you, and loved you as one of their own. It didn’t take long for feelings to develop for the youngest. You spent day in and day out with all of the brothers, of course, but most of your time was with Mikey. Donnie always patched you up and made sure you were okay, but Mikey sat with you and made sure you were okay. He quickly became your best friend.

He comforted you, stayed up with you when you couldn’t sleep, you two have more inside jokes than you’d care to count. The only thing you don’t know about him is how much the guys have been hounding him for months, just small remarks during training or while on patrol, to get him to “just turtle up!” and ask you out or something.

For some reason, you kept your art from them. As close as y'all were, having even one thing to yourself can do wonders for your sanity. Sometimes, while the boys trained or for the hours Splinter had them in the Ha'Shi, you snuck out to buy supplies. Nothing too big, just sketchbooks and pencils that you stashed under your bed when not in use.

You often drew the brothers, for good reason. They had both ridiculously interesting lines and unique shapes, as well as always being around. Plus you had found a few well-hidden hidey holes to draw from if you wanted a live reference.

It’s only natural when crushing on a giant talking turtle to, even just once, imagine what he’d look like as a human, right?

Today, you ran with that thought. So, as you finish the drawing, you scan the page for any last minute fixes. You run your fingers over the sketch, being careful to not smudge. You feel the bumps and ridges of your pencil marks travel underneath you like a road map. As you move over his face, your hand reveals his brilliant and goofy grin, but you can almost see the way his blue eyes light up and glint with mischief when he laughs, the way the green of his cheeks shimmer in the light with his constant smiles and grins. You soften and fall into a lazy smile.

Your hand continues over his torso, your mind wandering to the endless amazing hugs, his muscular arms, his surprisingly comfortable plastron. Hesitantly, you move left, over a man. Lean, but built, muscle hidden under a wildly patterned t-shirt. His mid-length blond messy hair falls into his eyes, but the mischief and brilliant smile remain. He stands with his arms crossed. His pose screams youth, confidence and energy. Your eyes flick back and forth between the drawings. You are nowhere near as familiar with this man, but your curiosity is sated.

The sounds of training float from the dojo as you come back to reality. Heavy grunts and dull thuds tell you how far into training they are and, not realizing how late it really is, decide it will be some time until they’re done. You abandon your art supplies on your bed for the makeshift shower down the hall that Don whipped up last year.

When you emerge toasty and clean in your favorite PJ’s, you waddle towards your room and revel in the silence. You’re nearly winded when just how silent it was hit you like a freight train and you took off for your room. Mere footsteps away from the right corner and a soft hiccup of a sob makes you freeze, your heart dropping. You stop, inches from the door. You know what’s coming. Something in you tells you to run. What’s around this corner? You know it will break you. You can leave. You don’t have to see those baby blues hating you. Thinking you’ve betrayed him.

You run a hand through your hair. Ruined.

You wring your hands. He hates you.

You take a step into the room, almost trembling. Looking everywhere but where you need to. His eyes are burning into you. Your room is dull. Face this. You could have run, but you didn’t. So, FACE. THIS.

When you make eye contact, you couldn’t and will never be able to accurately describe the sheer betrayal in his eyes. He’s gripping your sketchbook, the drawing. His eyes are red, his mouth agape. He opens and closes it a few times, searching for words.

———

“You know, we were almost human once?” You drop your controller and shift on the couch to look at him better. Disbelief paints your face.

“No kidding?”

———

“… What,” his voice breaks, as does his eye contact, which drops to the paper in his hand. “Y/N, what is this?”

———

“Seriously, Angelcakes. It’s crazy, Donnie had this ooze that we got from…” As he tells you his story you can see how important it was to him to find some normalcy. He wasn’t cracking jokes, he was barely moving. Just talking. This became the most personal and serious night you two had ever shared. He spoke of growing up with ninja turtles. You, of school, of bullies, of humans. You shared worlds.

———

You couldn’t find the words. You knew you had hurt him. Badly. It was just a drawing and a thought to you, but to him… to him it meant you didn’t like him for him. Maybe even not at all.

———

You swapped so much about each other that night, not just talking but learning. He finally opened up wholly when he wouldn’t look at you.

“I wish…” His hands suddenly become very interesting. “I wish I was human, you know? It would just be…” he searches for the word. The word he finds will break him. As he says it, he will cry through his half-hearted smile. You will hold him until you both fall asleep, cradling him to your chest, TV still on.

He looks up with pain and resolve.

“… Easier.”

———

Y/N!” Mikey slams your sketchbook against the wall searching your eyes for an explanation. For the first time you’d ever heard, your best friend raised his voice. He was pissed.

———

The next morning he woke up embarrassed. He remembered your sweet coo’s and soft-spoken words of comfort from the night before as he took down a wall he never knew he had, for you. He never realized how much he wanted to give you the life you deserve, and just how much he couldn’t actually give you. A certain melancholy took him. He felt so bad as you talked about your life. As far as he knew no one in his family knew anything about you from before they found you, just that you had suffered a great deal and had no one left, but last night? He hadn’t thought about how much had to have happened for you to end up that way. For a moment, you had both bared yourselves, completely.

As these thoughts ran through him, the grogginess of waking up left him. He watched your eyes move behind your eyelids, your mouth open slightly as you breathed through your dreams. He pushes himself up so his full weight isn’t on you and with the loss of heat, you stir. Your sleepy eyes captivate him and he feels like he’s really seeing you. You have no idea. “Morning,” you quietly utter, not wanting to break the peace. Running a hand down your face, you sit upwards slightly. Noticing the vibe rolling off your normally talkative terrapin you sober up and give him a questioning look.

He hovers over you effortlessly, arms holding him up on either side of your hips. He has yet to move his gaze away from you, drinking in your features like a dying man. The only thing he can think of is kissing you until you melt, of running his hands down your waist. Steamy images fog his vision as he disappears in the thought of you. All you see is his expression softening until he closes his eyes with a small sigh.

“Um… Mikey, you good?” This snaps him out of his trance. He’s blushing and burning up but, lucky for him, you don’t notice a thing. He coughs.

“Uh, yeah babe,” the nickname that had been used countless times felt heavy on his tongue, “I’m fine, just uh… tired. Do you mind if I…?” He slowly lowers himself back onto your midsection, eyes asking permission.

“Oh yeah sure,” you stammer, concerned. “Go for it.” He snuggles into you further, wrapping himself around your stomach and breathing in your smell, suddenly feeling like a brand new person.

———

When you don’t say anything for a few seconds he storms off, taking your sketchbook with him. You yell a helpless ‘No!’ after him. The room swarms around you and you feel like the floor left without you. The air leaves your lungs and you land on your knees. Soft, wary footsteps pad into your room and pair with your light sobs. Leo reaches down and wraps you up in his arms rubbing your back, speaking calming words, soothing you.

You can faintly hear Raph yelling after Mikey but as your own sobs wrack your body you lose all concentration on them and instead melt into Leo. He picks you up, carries you to your bed and lays you down. He hesitates, wanting to ask about what just happened but not wanting to push your already fragile state.

(THERE WILL BE A PART 2 :D )

Tags: @another-tmnt-writer @darkumbreon9

The Fastest Man Alive // Barry Allen


plot :: this is merely a fluff i made at 4 am, u have been warned

a/n :: i srsly have no idea what to do with my life after writing this lol


barry allen stared as you spoke. he glanced from the way your eyebrows lifted a little as you sigh, to the way your lips pressed together after you finish speaking. it might’ve sounded a little creepy and stalkerish but - as barry liked to call it - he was just romanticizing your face. as he normally did this everyday, apparently, he’d memorized your every movement by heart. after being in denial for a long period of time, barry took it that he’d fallen in love with you years back, very long time for the fastest man alive.

“okay, i’m done for the night,” you stifled a smile not wanting to make barry feel bad about being left alone in the lab.

“oh, um, yeah,” barry shook his head as if waking himself up from a trance and looked up at whatever you were doing. “i’ll walk you to the door,”

you’d meant to interrupt and tell him off but you thought it would be a little rude and perhaps, you didn’t mind at all so you let him. he walked slightly behind you with his hands inside his pockets as a comfortable silence ensued between the two of you. you pushed the door but left it ajar when you felt a hand on top of yours and you quickly held your hand back. barry cleared his throat as he opened the door completely for you.

with your fingers fiddling at your back, you slowly lifted up your head to look at barry. his frame towered over you with an arm stretched out to hold the door open and a hand inside his front pocket. it took you a while to realize just how close your faces were to each other and for a minute, you swore your heart skipped a beat. you could hear his breathing due to how close you stood in front of each other and you wished you could listen to it a few minutes more, but considering how awkward that would be, you stopped your ridiculous thoughts.

“thanks, i’ll see you tomorrow, barry,”

“yeah, see you tomorrow,” barry replied but it was too late, you were out the door and through the hallway with your head held down. you’d slipped away. again. and there, barry stood hopelessly as a loud sigh escaped his lips.

he was barry allen and he was the fastest man alive, but he wasn’t fast enough to close the small gap that was once between his and your lips.

Lost (Lin x Reader)

AN: another short one, but school. There will be at least one more part.

Tag Crew: @huffleheyguys @artisticgamer @theoverlordofeverything @hmltntrsh51 @iamnotthrowingawaymyshit2 @hamilton4starwars @megabooklover18

Request: Anonymous- 13 with Lin thx love ya13. “I lost our baby.”

Warning: death mention 

Word Count: 1,140

Masterlist

You got home and collapsed on the couch after what was roughly your five thousandth doctor’s appointment over the last eight and a half months. Since you left school for maternity leave, earlier than you would have liked, but Lin insisted, all you had were trips to the doctor and sub plans to check over obsessively. It wasn’t until now that you realized just how much time your husband spent at the theater. With him around, it wasn’t so bad, but you didn’t want to get in the way of the multitude of other projects he had or keep him for what little sleep he did get, so it was really just him in your general vicinity to help you be a little more at peace. He would do more to help if you had let him, but he had so much else to worry about that you felt guilty when he focused on you.

Keep reading

if you dream girl is her…

if your dream girl is her, tell her i’m sorry. tell her i’m sorry i couldn’t let go. tell her i’m sorry for the times i facebook, twitter, myspace, and even today instagram stalk her. tell her i’m sorry for the times i accidentally double tapped her picture then quickly undid it. tell her i’m sorry i called her a thunderstorm because you made my life so gray.

if your dream girl is her, tell her that i’m sorry. i’m sorry i took your heart and gave it a few more cracks than it started with. tell her that fireball works better than “im sorry” when trying to mend it. im sorry he’s got scars in places he won’t ever show you. tell her you can’t fix a leak in a roof in a fucking rain storm. tell her that you’re not a hole in a roof you’re a sunny summer day. tell her you aren’t a summer day, you are the summer. my favourite season.

if your dream girl is her, tell her i’m sorry that i loved you first. tell her i’m sorry she won’t ever get to say that. tell her i wish she could. tell her i didn’t deserve it. tell her i’m sorry he was a house i could never see the beauty in.

if your dream girl is her, i’m sorry. im sorry that he won’t ever be able to look into your brown eyes without seeing me. im sorry that when a song comes on in the car he has to turn it off. tell her i’m sorry there are stories she can’t hear. tell her i’m sorry i made your heart a construction site. im sorry she spent months trying to tear down ur walls while i was helping you put the god damn drywall up.

tell her i’m sorry it took me so long to see clearly. tell her i’m sorry i want him back. tell her i’m sorry i’m still writing these fucking letters. tell her im sorry that you found him as an abandoned house. im sorry i keep making metaphors for houses.

if your ex girl is her…

if your ex girlfriend is her tell her, it’s okay. it’s okay for the times you liked my posts accidentally at 2AM on Facebook or twitter or Instagram or whatever. it’s okay you unlinked it. it’s okay you look at my stuff, i can’t imagine losing a boy like this either.

—  a letter to the new girl, from the old girl who broke up with your boyfriend but still regrets it by Heather Vance

I have OCD. 

It doesn’t rule my life, but it used to. Knowing that I have the capacity for that kind of thought is exactly why it doesn’t rule my life like it used to. I’m perfectly aware that I’m going to have that capacity forever, as studies have shown that Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is genetic (if you have a parent with OCD, as I do, you have a fifty-fifty chance) and is caused by abnormal brain circuitry, which means you’re stuck with it. And I am okay with that. I’ll survive. Recently, readers have asked me a lot how I learned to control it, so this is my story.*

*with the obvious warning that I am not a therapist and you are not me and I am not you and this is just my story your mileage may vary.

I was an anxious child. OCD and anxiety play very well together, and back then, I didn’t really know what was happening. I was a twitchy creature of secret rituals.

The first thing that helped me was when I realized that my obsessions weren’t normal. Not everyone felt this way. And not all thoughts had to feel this way, either. 

The second thing that helped me was realizing that OCD didn’t really look the way it looked on television. Obsession could be about germs or cracks in the sidewalk, but really, it turns out that I can obsess about all kinds of things.

The third thing that helped me was figuring out that my compulsions weren’t always straightforward. Sometimes they were directly related to the obsession:

Tags in shirts —–> change clothing eleven times a day

tweets —–> refresh the screen every twelve seconds

Others, not so much:

Dying before making a mark —-> replacing all other activities like eating and sleeping with research, acquisition, and practicing of a new musical instrument

Datsuns —-> i don’t even know how i ended up with a datsun but i resent that entire chapter of my life

When my OCD was in control of me, it changed the way I looked at the world. Example. Here is life:

Life is always full of both bad and good things. Also trees. There will always be disasters and miracles happening in tandem. Mental illness changes the way you see it, though. For instance, a depressed person:


A content person:

The good or bad things don’t go away. You just point your gaze in a different direction. You are able to minimize some things and expand on others. When I got obsessive thoughts, they shifted my gaze onto something and held it there. It didn’t have to be something huge. It could have been about if my hair was dirty, or if I had said a prayer correctly, or if I had the precise same amount of air in each of my car’s tires.


In my head, the thought, whatever it was, became all encompassing. 

It didn’t matter what else I tried to do, my mind would return to it. It became everything, my whole world, looped again and again and again.

I don’t even know if those are what lady bugs look like. I guess that’s okay. It’s a metaphor. They are only what I imagine ladybugs to look like, and my obsessive thoughts are not real thoughts, either. They aren’t really me. They are something my brain does to process stress and uncertainty and decision-making.***

***this took me a long time to figure out. More in a bit.

My personal breakthrough came when I decided that I would give myself rules. I was a champion with rules. I was a champion with rituals. I was a champion with things that involved numbers and counting and generally being compulsive. So my rule was that if I caught myself thinking about something obsessively, the timer began.

I would tell myself I could obsess for a certain number of minutes, and then I had to do something else until a designated time when I was allowed to obsess over it again. I could obsess for ten minutes. Then I had to put it down completely for thirty minutes. Then I could have another ten minutes. Then I had to put it down for two hours. Then I could have another ten minutes. I wasn’t allowed to act on any of the thoughts, either. 

I told myself a rule was a rule. I couldn’t cheat on the time. And when I put it down, I had to really mean that I was putting it down. Did I want to be free or not? 

And it began to work. I began to be able to reward myself with less and less obsessing time.

And then the really amazing thing happened, the thing that changed my life. Once I had spent enough time disciplining my obsessive thoughts, I realized … they weren’t really my thoughts. They were markedly different in character from my ordinary thoughts. The further I got from them, the more I realized that they were mental illness, not me, and moreover, that I could be free of them if I wanted to be. All I had to do was identify a thought as obsessive when it first appeared:

And then give it the time it deserved:

And I got better and better at it. I still sometimes have to give myself three minutes, especially when under stress. I still have to sometimes remove myself from a physical location to give myself those three minutes. And sometimes I still end up with a Datsun. But mostly, I just live my life, and it’s invisible.

So much of it is knowing that it’s the place your brain goes to under stress. Knowing that you can be out from under it. Knowing that ladybugs don’t really look like that. I just googled them and it turns out they have an entire additional segment in front of that black bit where the head goes which means I just drew an entire flock of headless ladybugs. 

Well, all the better reason to avoid them.

breathe (in the air) - shawn mendes imagine

REQUEST: 136. “You had a nightmare, tell me what it was about so I can fix it.”

A/N: hi!!! this is my first ever imagine on here and certainly not the best (or longest) thing i’ve ever written, so please tell me what you think. thanks to anon for requesting and i hope that you liiiike it. feel free to request anything here.

word count: 708

Gasping breaths were all you could manage in the short seconds you were keeping your head above the water. It was cold, so, so cold. You clung tightly as you could to Shawn’s arm; he was struggling too, now.

You tried to call out for your mom, get her attention, but as soon as you opened your mouth, saltwater hit the back of your throat with such force that you were under again. When you came back up, she was gone. You shook your head about frantically, searching the waters for your dad, your sisters, but they were gone too. 

Before you knew it, Shawn was trying to be brave, wriggling out of your grip, yelling back a quick “come on!” as he fought the current. He was trying to swim, and you could see that, wanted to follow him, but the fear that consumed you seemed to prevent you from doing much else than kick your feet around. He was dipping under the surface for longer and longer at a time, and you tried with all your might to reach him. You couldn’t.

Keep reading

tooru184  asked:

Kyouhaba pleaseee!! I'm so in love with them ❤😢

  • my babies
  • kyoutani is a huge softie on the inside and he has 2 dogs
  • one is a shiba inu and the day yahaba comes over and plays with her is the day he’s deceased
  • after their high school years they become a very domestic couple after living together for a couple of years
  • they enjoy coming home to each other and cooking
  • or attempted cooking
  • usually they order take-out after deeming the food poisonous
  • whenever kyoutani comes home to yahaba napping with his dogs his heart melts
  • they seldom really fight anymore it’s usually variations of “okay fine do whatever you want” and “no babe i’m sorry”
  • they still make out as feverently as they did in high school
  • okay but on a more serious note
  • it took them a long time to get to where they are now 
  • and a lot of trust and assurance and sweet gay feelings
  • that’s why their relationship is so strong
  • i love these boys

send me a character/pairing & i’ll tell you some headcanons!!

hellagayhellasingle  asked:

22 w/ Grayson but I feel like it'd be funnier if the reader was doing the catching lol

Originally posted by ethansdolan

“You’ll catch me, right?” Grayson asked you with a smirk as he was standing on top of the small brick wall.  

You were standing with your hands on your hips, your feet in the sand. You guys were at the beach, it was supposed to be a relaxing day but with your crazy boyfriend around, that wasn’t going to happen. 

He couldn’t come down like a normal person, of course not. Your boyfriend was anything but normal. Normally, you wouldn’t complain but after his crazy request, you were definitely complaining. 

“What? No, I will not catch you Grayson. Are you crazy?! Do you want me to break my back or sprain my ankles?” You ask him in disbelief. 

Your answer seemed to amuse him even further, you weren’t amused though. Despite his playful attitude, he looked quite serious. 

“Common babe, you have to catch me. I would catch if you asked me to. It’s only fair you do the same.” He said, his smirk not flattering away. 

“Grayson just get down like a normal person, I swear if you jump on me-”

You quickly got interrupted as Grayson jumped, you screamed and closed your eyes prepared for the impact. You lost your balance and your butt collided onto the sand. You let out a small mph before opening your eyes and seeing your boyfriend standing on his feet in front of you. 

He was laughing, he was laughing so hard that he was clutching his stomach with his arm. 

“Oh my god-” He couldn’t stop laughing, your face before you fell was imprinted in his mind, he couldn’t stop picturing it. To him it was the most hilarious thing that he had witnessed in a long time. 

“Babe, are you okay? I’m sorry but your face was hilarious.” He said in between laughs. He finally took a deep breath and wiped the tears from his eyes before he helped you up.

“You are such an ass.” You said as you pushed him but he of course didn’t even budge. 

“I’m sorry, you know I love you.” He replied while smiling as he wrapped his arms around, engulfing you in a hug. 

“Yea whatever.” You said as you let out a small scoff but still wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Your face though.” He said as he imitated it before letting out another laugh and you responded by jabbing him in the stomach. 

You walked away from him and into the water as he followed you behind continuing to laugh and apologize. 


A/N Thank you so much for requesting this, it was really fun to write !  I hope you liked it ! Please continue sending me numbers ! 

Swore I’d Never Come Back Here Again (Part 2)

A/N: I’m so so sorry this took forever to put up! I lost inspiration for a moment but now it’s back so don’t worry :) If you want to read the first part, you can find that here! This is not the last part so don’t worry! I think there will be one or two more! Enjoy! 

Dean x Reader, Jax Teller and rest of SAMCRO

Warnings: swearing, fighting, slight fluff, angst

Word Count: 1700

Tags: @bokkie92 @thetigersclaw @blackdjpink @andreiaafaria @utterlyhopeful

“Hey- we don’t have to stay long, alright? We can get back on the road after this and head back home, okay? Whatever you want,” Dean assured you, his fingers intertwining with yours as you stood in front of Gemma Teller’s front door. Too many memories of a time that you hardly associated yourself with anymore, flooded through your mind. You were completely different from the Y/N Y/L/N that SAMCRO adored and cherished. She was long gone. With a grateful smile, you leaned up and planted a soft kiss on those annoyingly perfect lips of the handsome Winchester and took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

Keep reading

Submitted by: @chaos-and-the-calm67

“Sam!”

You gasped breathlessly, you were just returning from the library after being at school all day long. Your fearless brothers must have gone after whatever was causing the problems in town.

Sam’s gaze fixed on your’s at the motel door. You slammed it shut behind you and rushed over to his side. “What happened to your face? Are you hurt anywhere else? Have you cleaned that up yet?” All of these were running through your mind at the same time, and you were talking at an even faster rate.

“Y/N, slow down. Dean and I are okay.” You let out what seemed a sigh of relief and took a seat beside Sam on the motel bed. “Where’s Dean?” Your y/c/e widened with realization. “He’s just taking a shower, Y/N.” Sam reassured you and then you felt even better hearing the water running.

“How was school?” Sam asked, totally changing the subject. “You’re going to ask me how school was? We can talk about that later. Right now let’s focus on you.” It was never often enough you got the chance to take care of your brothers then it being the other way around.

Sam shook his head. You were only fifteen years old but he swore you acted older than that. But I guess that’s what happens. In this life, you grow up a little earlier than eighteen. Y/N was born when Dean was fifteen and Sam was eleven years old.

Y/N got the first aid kit that was sitting on the table. You squirted some wound cleaner on the tip of your finger and warned Sam it might sting a little. “I think I can take it, Y/N.” Sam said bluffly. He made a little noise but it was too incoherent for you to make out.

Then you bandaged him up. You asked him if his head hurt or if he felt sore anywhere else. “Nope. I popped two ibuprofen when we walked through the door.” Sam admitted. You nodded your head. “Relax, Y/N.” You let out a sigh and looked at your brother with your hands on your hips.

Sam remembered Dean did and still does the hands on the hip when he was worried. “I can never relax, Sam. You will never know how much I worry about you when we’re not together.” You bit down on the lower part of your lip, trying to force the tears back. You could hear John’s voice in your head saying crying was for baby’s.

“Y/N it’s okay to cry.” Sam seeing how much of a hard time you were having. “C’mere.” He said opening his up arms wide for a hug. You practically ran into his arms. “I love you so much, Sam. And Dean too. You guys are everything to me.” Which was true. The only thing throughout Y/N’s life that was consistent was her older brothers.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. Nothing is going to happen to Dean and I.” Sam played with your hair as he said this. He hated making promises to you, but one of them dies they always figure out a way to come back. A Winchester can never die. The world can’t afford the loss of the Winchesters.

The End!

pynch oneshot where opal gets sick, ronan gets worried, and adam puts on the kettle:

“Parrish, wake up.”

Adam grumbles and rolls over, pulling a pillow over his head.

“Adam.” It’s not that Ronan never uses his first name, it’s just that he rarely uses it so seriously.

Adam rolls back over.

“What?”

Ronan looks worried and Adam immediately starts looking around the room for wayward dream creatures or any night horrors he might have brought back with him.

Ronan puts a hand on Adam’s shoulder to ground him. “No, it’s not that.” He pauses, looking uncertain. “Opal’s sick and I don’t know what to do.”

Any lingering traces of sleepiness fall away instantly as Adam bolts out of bed, walking the well traveled path between Ronan’s room and Opal’s.

She’s buried under a mountain of blankets, her little face drawn and sad looking for where it pokes out under the comforters.

“Kerah?” She mumbles, her voice pitiful and scratchy enough to break Adam’s heart on the spot.

“What hurts?” Adam asks softly as he goes to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Adam,” She says with a tiny smile in her voice. She lets out a hacking cough a moment later and Adam rubs a gentle hand up and down her back.

“Everything.” She mumbles.

“Hmmm?”

“You asked what hurts,” Opal says. “Everything.”

Ronan, who’d been leaning against the doorframe, leaves his post and kneels beside her next to the bed and exchanges a worried look with Adam.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

That jimon superhero idea is really cute do you think you could do like headcanons of when simon ask jace to teach him self defense and jaces teaches him/they spend time together

hi!! sorry this is almost 24hours later. D: this verse - which is essentially about jace being a superhero and simon being catnip for evil and therefore jace’s frequent rescuee - may or may not go anywhere because i have 0 execution skills but if it ever does, these are some of the events that i’d want to happen as simon falls in love with jace / angel:

  • the very next day, simon runs into jace at their building lobby putting up flyers for a self defence class he teaches for free every tuesday and thursday. what a strange and serendipitous turn of events!! but, “oh man,” says simon, crestfallen, “my work schedule’s kind of all over the place though, i don’t think i can make it?” and jace’s gaze lingers on the bruise on simon’s jaw, the discolouration suggesting it was from the night before, and he says, “anytime you have an hour, just pop by to see if i’m home - looks like you needed to learn how to make a quick getaway years ago,” and simon is bewildered by the generosity of this offer but (obviously) he accepts 
  • jace is a brutal instructor and doesn’t cut simon any slack each time he takes simon down. “again,” he demands, “get up.” at first simon’s embarrassed by how easily jace kicks his ass, flustered by how jace is even more attractive when he’s covered in sweat and pinning simon down, face so close that simon can clearly see the darker roots of his eyelashes and follow the curve of the individual lashes to their delicate golden tip. but as their sessions keep going, simon stops seeing jace as someone he wants to make out with and instead as a threat he needs to take down. it shakes simon to realize what an easy target he is, how he might be dead if angel hadn’t saved him all those times and the reality is that if someone devastatingly sexy was trying to murder him - well, he can’t just let them because he’s too distracted by their beautiful eyes

Keep reading

Wolf | Zen/Hyun Ryu x Reader

Rating: Teen
Word Count: 1,072
Genre: Angst
Summary: You regret not taking Zen’s warning of how “all men are wolves” more seriously.
Note: Contains implied rape.
Author’s Comment: A sensitive topic so I’m a bit hesitant on sharing, but it’s something I do want to share. I wanted to do a different sort of take on the whole “wolf/beast” thing. I wanted to write a continuation to give Reader a happier ending, but I don’t think I could do it justice.

“All men are wolves!” Zen warned you continuously. His concern was very much appreciated, but you still couldn’t help but laugh in amusement at the seriousness of his tone combined with that choice of words. Zen stitched his eyebrows together every time, his hands gripping onto your shoulders as he tried to convey the seriousness of his warning once more.

“I’ll be fine,” you reassured the male as you gently pried his hands away from you. “He’s kind and sweet, and a really great guy. Nothing will happen.”

Keep reading

Shots Fired (Shadowhunters cast)

Imagine: You are part of the Shadowhunters cast & are learning your lines in your trailer when you get the news of a shooter on set

—————————————————–

Your phone rang as you read over your lines for the next scene. It was Matt.

“Hey-” before you could say anything else he started speaking in a panic.

“Y/N! Whatever you do don’t come out of your trailer! The whole studio is on lock down because some man is running around with a gun on the premises”. There was a gap, a long pause, you took it as your turn to speak.

“Fuck…okay. Where is everyone now? Who are you with?” Your words came out calm but you were feeling the total opposite.

“Everyone’s here; me, Kat, Dom, Em, Alberto, Harry and Isaiah. It’s just you outside of the studio and hair and makeup but last time I heard they made it out”. You stayed silent, you didn’t know what to do, to say.

“Y/N are you still there?”, Matt checked.

“Yeah, could you do me a favour? Could you stay on the phone to me until he’s gone?”.

“Yeah of course”. He sounded confused on why you weren’t freaking out but really you were terrified.

Your movements became slower, you became more cautious. You felt like if you made any quick or rash movements then you’d be noticed. Found.

You moved from the entrance to the bedroom on the far end of the trailer and just hid. You forgot Matt was still on the phone. You could hear everyone panicking and then the phone got passed on.

“Y/N it’s Em, are you okay?”.

“Yeah I’m fine…on the bright side it gives me more time to go over this scene”.

She laughed, “You make me laugh-”, before she could say anything else 2 gunshots were heard, gasps and screams came from the phone. You swallowed hard. You were really nervous. Scared in fact. You didn’t know if the gunshots were close by or you just thought it was close from the phone, but then you remembered, they were on lock down and that maniac was out here where you were.

“Y/N it’s Matt, please tell me you’re okay”. You were about to answer when you heard loud footsteps right outside your trailer window. You ducked and hit the floor, your heart was thumping that loud you were scared he was going to hear it.

“Y/N?!”. The phone spoke.

“Yeah I’m fine”, You whispered as quite as you could, “He’s outside my trailer”.

You heard Dom asking what was happening, Matt told them what you had said and all of a sudden everyone on the phone was quiet.

“I’m gonna risk it”. You finally announced.

Matt stuttered, “W-w-what?!”. You heard everyone ask what you had said to make Matt so panicky, after he told them you could hear them all start asking questions.

“Matt just listen to me, go to the far fire exit door closest to the trailers and when I ring you open them”.

“Wait what are you doing-”.

Before he could finish you cut him off, “MATT JUST DO IT”. You heard him start to say something but you ended the call. You got up carefully from the bedroom floor and made your way slowly to the door of your trailer. You didn’t know where he was. You pushed the door open and jumped the step. You ran so fast, You didn’t want to look behind you just in case. Kat’s trailer…Em’s trailer…Matt’s trailer…Dom’s trailer. You ran passed them all. In and out. In and out. There was a massive empty lot from the trailers to the studio. You just had to run and you’d be there. You heard shouting behind you and when you looked you saw him. You could already see Matt, Em, Dom, Kat, Alberto and the others all stood at the door shouting for you to run faster. You heard gunshots which made your ears ring. Something surged through your body but the adrenaline was that high that you just ran without thinking about anything. Police helicopters swarmed the sky, more and more gunshots were heard. At this point you didn’t know where any of them were coming from. You eventually got to the doors of the studio and you were pulled in by Em and Dom. Everyone hugged and smothered you. As you took steps back to gather your breath you collapsed to the floor. Blood was now visible just above your right hip from where it had looked like you had been shot…twice. Gasps filled the air, everything went blurry and then black.

Dance With Me

Fandom: Stranger Things 

Character: Jonathan Byers 

Reader Gender: Female 

Summary: While taking a drive, you and Jonathan also take a trip down memory lane when a certain song comes on the radio 

Warnings: Mild Swearing 

Word Count: 1865 

Author’s Note: I literally got this idea because I remembered this song existed while listening to Should I Stay or Should I Go by The Clash lmao so here it is 

Keep reading

I’ll Be Good - Part 16

Masterlist -  Series Masterlist  -  Part 15  -  Part 17

Summary: Series - You’re an old colleague of Natasha’s who finds herself face to face with the Winter Soldier on the wrong end of an Avengers’ op. Chapter – You return to the Compound with the team. You and Bucky begin to recover.

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 2279 - ugh another long one, sorry. I’m a runaway train.

Author’s Note: Here is some floof for you, because I made you suffer so much in the last couple. Don’t get too comfortable though… :)

Originally posted by deniz-is-a-witch


“Barton, just land this thing. Please! She needs to get to a hospital!” Bucky was practically begging, standing behind the pilot’s seat, hands digging into the fabric of the chair in desperation.

Clint opened his mouth to answer, but Tony beat him to it. “You know we can’t do that. She’ll wind up behind bars so fast I won’t even have time to tell you ‘I told you so’ because we’ll all go down with her for aiding and abetting whoever the hell she is.”

Keep reading