very slowly, using two fingers, annabeth drew her dagger. instead of dropping it, she tossed it as far as she could into the water. [..] annabeth tried for a dumb-blonde smile, like: oh, silly me. nobody who knew her would have been fooled. but octavian seemed to buy it. [x,x]
HeroesOfOlympus: Heyyy y'all! I’m so sorry I haven’t updated in such a long time. I’ve been writing a few fanfics which require me to ‘study’ the scenes/copy down what the characters say. So, this part is short but the next part will be longer.
Description: Set during Civil War, Steve and Sharon kiss and you feel heartbroken. Despite feeling sad, you continue to fight during the airport battle and saved James Rhodes’ life, resulting in you getting tranquillised by Tony. (This is only part 1′s description)
Reader Gender: Female
Characters/Ships: Steve Rogers x reader, Sharon Carter, Tony Stark, James Rhodes, mention of Peggy Carter
Warnings: Uh… Nothing?
Tears threatened to spill down your cheeks as you watched the scene unfolding in front of you. The tears welled up in your eyes before trickling down your face, blurring your vision and making everything around you a blotch of colours.
In the centre of it all was none other than Steve Rogers, the Blonde super soldier in charge of the Avengers. He was currently lip locked with Sharon Carter and you felt you heart breaking into a million pieces.
His muscular arms were wrapped around her waist and her hands cupped his cheeks, their lips pressed against each other’s. You watched with a tear strickened face as they pulled apart, their foreheads resting against each other’s and their eyes slowly fluttering open, wide grins on their faces.
“You okay Y/N?” Sam turned around, taking your hand and giving it a tight squeeze with a sad smile on his face. You bit your lip as Bucky looked at you in concern, a sigh coming from him.
Dean fell asleep an hour after you slipped three crushed Vicodin in his half-empty, piss warm beer. You only knew it was piss warm because the injured hunter had yelled at you for not getting him a cold one before throwing the bottle at the trash.
The bottle rolled into the bathroom. “Nice one, Dean.”
The thought was tempting, you weren’t gonna lie, but the truth was you knew he saw you like the kid sister he never wanted. And you knew that because he has told you more times than you cared to remember. That didn’t stop you from watching him out of the corner of your eye every chance you got. The man had shoulders as wide as a door frame and corded muscles that rippled under his skin. He stood on thick legs that were good for fighting, defending himself from every monster imaginable, and running either to or from danger; although he was more likely to run toward it. Years of turning a wrench, digging up graves, and ganking monsters had sure as hell done a body good.
But not tonight. Tonight, the poltergeist that was tormenting a family had gotten the better of him. Tonight, the poltergeist had gone on the defense and blitz attacked him. Dean fought hard, harder than most hunters, finally taking the piece of shit out, but not before the damage had been done; a gash on the back of his head and bruises that disappeared beneath his heather grey Henley.
Three stitches, a bucket of ice, and three secretly taken Vicodin later, Dean was finally asleep. He was sprawled out on the queen sized mattress, one arm hanging over the edge and both feet dangling off the other side. He snored softly as you tugged off his boots and lifted his thick, heavy legs onto the bed. The lamp cast its dull orange light across his face, highlighting the fan of thick lashes over freckled skin, and it took everything in you not to reach out and count his freckles.
Instead, you turned off the light and turned away, mentally preparing yourself to sleep on the couch. There had been only one room available when you checked in and as luck would have it, it had only one bed.
Dean shifted, sighing heavily as his hand flexed, grabbing at your denim clad legs. You stayed still for a moment, afraid of waking him. When he didn’t let go of your jeans, you scraped your nails gently through his hair, trying to get his attention just enough so he’d let go. What he did next, you didn’t expect.
Half-opened, glassy, emerald eyes stared up at you and a smirk tugged at his fuller than humanly possible lips. He tugged hard on your jeans before whispering your name.
You had to be imagining things because he wouldn’t say your name like that or try to sit up and ask you to lie with him. It had to be the Vicodin. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you raked your nails through his hair, careful to avoid the fresh wound.
“Dean, just lie down and go to sleep.” You fought the urge to call him baby.
Leaning into your touch, he latched a hand on your hip and tugged impatiently. Despite the fact that he was drugged and half-asleep, he was so much stronger than you. “I’ll sleep better with you next to me. C’mon, Y/N, please.” The oldest Winchester hardly ever said please.
Against your better judgement, you kicked off your shoes and slid in next to the hunter. He covered you with the blanket, wrapped an arm around your belly, and pulled you tight against him. Rough, calloused fingers found their way under the hem of your shirt as he curled around you, legs tucked behind yours, ankles crossed together. Wherever you ended, a part of Dean began. With a contented sigh, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, and in no time his breathing slowed, blowing hot and heavy against your skin as he slept.
It took you longer to fall asleep, but that probably had something to do with the fact that your fingers played over his forearm or that if you turned your head just right, his slightly parted lips were right fucking there. You lay there, watching him sleep, feeling him sleep for hours until finally, your eyelids grew too heavy. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and steady breathing lulled you to sleep.
HeroesOfOlympus: Heyyy y'all! I’m back again after my hiatus. No one really reads this so whatever. Anyway, @rikapika14 this is dedicated to you! Thanks for encouraging me to post this horrible fanfic that will probably get 0 notes.
Description: Tony is up to his schemes again and is trying to get you and Peter together. He asks both of you to try out a new invention he made which supposedly can detect people’s feelings. You and Peter end up happy and kiss. I really need different endings.
Reader Gender: Female
Characters/Ships: Peter Parker x reader, Tony Stark, ‘tell-a-phone’/Krats
Warnings: Cringey writing, some grammar mistakes since I don’t really read over my fanfic and yeah?
“Y/N! Peter!” Tony shouted out to the two teenagers who were currently hunched over their school work at the newly refurbished living room. The two were sitting on opposite sides of the coffee table, peeking up from their work from time to time to steal a glance at the other teenager.
Soft and large pillows scattered the floor, two especially large and fluffy ones currently being sat on by the two young geniuses. With their eyebrows furrowed and their foreheads creased, they stared at their work with absolute concentration, Tony’s words falling on death ears.
Sighing, Tony held up his glass of wine to his lips, thinking of a way to get the two young superheroes’ attention. Rolling his eyes, Tony strolled over to the two young superheroes absorbed in their homework. “I burned both of your suits!” He blurted out, the two teenagers’ heads snapping up to look at Tony.
“You did what?” They both exclaimed at the same time, shooting out of their comfortable seats and approaching the playboy.
Summary: When Bucky finds out he’s going to be a father, he fears he may unintentionally hurt the baby. Reader Gender: Female Character: Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers Word Count: 1,205 Warnings: Daddy Bucky feels Author’s Note: If a URL is crossed out, it’s only because Tumblr is dumb and won’t let me tag everyone. Fic based off this fan art. If you know who created it, please let me know. It’s adorable and I frigging love it!
It was never of a question of Bucky wanting kids, he did. He loved everything about them; the richness of their laugh, the sparkle in their eyes, the indescribable scent on the top of their head. He couldn’t wait to have a few of them running around. But that was then, before the war and the super soldier serum, before he was an assassin under HYDRA’s control.
And then Y/N came along, bright-eyed, loving, and optimistic. She accepted him for who he was, metal arm and all. She made him feel safe and secure, like a human being and not someone… something to be used for an evil agenda. Despite all of that, Bucky didn’t feel exactly like he did before everything happened. So when Y/N told him she was pregnant, Bucky panicked. What if something happened and he ended up hurting the baby? What if he lost control of his arm and ended up doing more than just harming the child? It was enough to drive a sane man crazy.
HeroesOfOlympus: Heyyy y'all! Here is the Steve Rogers x reader fanfic I promised to post by Sunday. I know it’s crappy but I hope you enjoy! Also, thank y'all so much for following my account.
Description: You were Steve’s Best Friend, besides Bucky and both of you joined the army, never seeing each other again after signing up. Nick gets Steve to find a woman with your name and it turns out it’s you. You join the avengers and after a few months, the team decides to get you two together. How? By stealing all your clothes and just leaving a sports bra and tights.
Reader Gender: Female
Characters/Ships: Steve Rogers x reader, Nick Fury, the Avengers
Warnings: Set after the first Avengers movie, Peggy Carter didn’t exist, kissing but not that heated and horrible description of Steve’s abs
“Y/F/N. Current age unknown and current location unknown.” Nick Fury said instantly as he swept into the meeting room.
The Avengers were all preoccupied with their own things to even notice Nick was in the room. Only Steve had perked up when Nick had came into the room but his eyes soon clouded over.
“Did you just say Y/F/N?” Steve’s eyes widened but other than that, he remained composed. Hearing the slight surprise in his voice, all the Avengers looked up from what they were doing and their attention was all on Steve.
Nick nodded his head hesitantly, wondering why that name had got Steve to break a tad bit of his composition. “Do you know who she is?” He pressed on, his one eye focusing on Steve and Steve alone.
“What’s it to you Capsicle? She your long lost girlfriend or something?” Tony laughed, earning a few chuckles from the rest of the team. It was unimaginable that Steve had a girlfriend that was somehow still alive and important to be enough on S.H.I.E.L.D’s radar.
Steve stared straight ahead, his mask breaking for a second, showing bewilderment, happiness and confusion. The team looked at him in concern, getting worried when they saw confusion in his eyes.
When I was younger, my niece and I drew a lot of fanarts with ourselves as ocs in it. Everytime I remember this I get really nostalgic which makes me want to draw more pieces like we used to… uvu … we also wrote a lot of weird stories that kept us entertained :>
Prompt: An injured Steve Rogers stumbles into the clinic at closing time. Reader Gender: Female Character / Fandom: Steve Rogers / Captain America Words: 3,150 Warnings: Injuries, blood, kissing [but does that really warrant a warning?], fluff, slight swearing, angst. A/N: This is a rewrite of a fic by the same name with Dean Winchester. [x]
The first time you met Steve Rogers, he stumbled into the clinic just as you were getting ready to lock up. He was bleeding from the shoulder, cradling his arm against his stomach, and stumbling as if he couldn’t see straight. Which, judging by the amount of blood that was flowing from a gash in his hairline, he probably couldn’t. The sight of a beaten man didn’t frighten you. You had been a nurse for several years now, so you had seen your fair share of wounds and injuries. It was the look in his eyes that made your blood run cold. They were wide enough you could see white, and they darted from side to side. He looked panicked, almost crazed.
“Can you help me?” His voice was sandpaper and gravel.
“Everyone’s gone home. I’m the only one here.” You weren’t exactly sure why you just told a complete stranger that you, a seemingly defenseless woman, were completely alone.
He ground his teeth, grimacing as his knees buckled. He fell hard against the reception counter, sliding it against the tiled floor with a borderline deafening squeal. You jogged around the displaced counter and slid an arm around his waist, pulling him up. It wasn’t easy by any means. He was tall and thick, in a good way, and under the dark jacket and red shirt, he was all muscle. You led the way to the closest exam room, thankful you hadn’t closed the door. Groaning, you flipped on the light and half-drug the injured man over to the exam table. You weighed your options as he dropped to the table and hunched over, gripping his arm against his belly. The closest person with more medical training than you was almost an hour away. The only thing you could do was grab everything you needed for an emergency exam. Thankfully, there were several tables set up for tomorrow.
OfficialHeroesOfOlympus: Heyyy y'all! Thank y'all so much for the support! This is incredible! Please request any other reader insert fan fictions you would like me to write. I write for The Flash, Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Heroes Of Olympus, Arrow, Marvel. Basically, just request for any reader insert fanfiction and I’ll try my best to write something that y'all will actually think is readable.
Description: You’re trying to help Barry with his speed and somehow, both of you make a deal. If Barry can go at the speed of Mach Twenty, you’d kiss him.
Reader Gender: Female
Characters/Ships: Barry Allen x reader, mentioned Zoom, Caitlin, Dr Wells and Cisco
Warnings: One bad word (shit), my information on Barry and Zoom might be off since I haven’t watched The Flash in such a long time. Also, my writing isn’t very good.
You sighed frustratedly, your eyes flickering upwards from your laptop, only to meet with the sight of Barry Allen, or more popularly known as ‘The Flash’.
He was sipping a cup of coffee from Jitters, his name was scribbled messily on the side of the cup, most probably by Iris.
She was nice, to put it simply. She always tried to help out at S.T.A.R labs but sometimes, you just couldn’t help but hate her with a burning, fiery passion. You glared at her from your seat next to Caitlin whenever she came in, counting down the seconds until she would leave again.
She was kind of clingy and you thought it was annoying how she always tried to butt in on Barry’s missions, trying to get him to agree to let her help him, become his sidekick.
Yesterday, she even wanted to be trained by the Arrow just so she could fight side by side with Barry.
‘Stupid Iris. I’m so ugly while she’s so…’ You thought to yourself grumpily, wondering how there were people as pretty as her in the world and how plain, boring and ugly you looked.
‘If I were a guy, I’d pick Iris over me in a heartbeat. Gosh, that sounded so wrong.’ You argued inwardly with yourself, punching the keyboards loudly.
“Y/N? Y/N!” Barry shouted, clicking his fingers in front of your face, snapping you out of your thoughts.
Looking up, Barry grinned, gesturing to the keyboard. “Any reason why you’re practically murdering that keyboard?” He asked, taking another sip from his coffee.
Prompt: Reader has been hunting erratically with Sam every since Dean died at the end of 3x16. What happens when he comes back?
Reader Gender: Female
Character / Fandom: Dean Winchester / Supernatural
Words: 7,886 (I originally posted this as 4 separate chapters on FanFic and AO3)
Warnings: Nothing really… angst & fluff I guess.
“Go ahead. Underestimate me. I dare you.” Your fingers flex around
the handle of the machete. Having been dipped in dead man’s blood, it
would poison the vampire the moment her skin was broken.
She sneers, exposing a row of razor sharp teeth. “You think you’re bad ass, don’t you?”
muscles between your shoulder blades are rigid. The nest had been
infiltrated easily enough. The vampires that lay at your feet were
freshly turned, less than a month judging by the amount of bodies that
had been showing up at the morgue. Now, only one remained. The ring
leader was standing in front of you. She was older, more experienced
than her fallen brethren, but that didn’t mean much. Not when she was
facing a hunter of your caliber.
You arch a brow as you twirl the blade expertly at your side. “I don’t want to brag, but yeah.”
“Allow me to put you in your place.”
moment right here is what gets your blood pumping. You love the rush of
adrenaline, the way it makes you feel. All of your senses are
heightened, your hunting instincts kick into overdrive until there are
no more bad guys, until they’re lying dead at your feet. And then, when
the effects have worn off, you’re left wanting more. You crave the next
rush, the next hunt, the next kill, the next injury.
The most common thing to remember about “Strong FemaleCharacters”… they don’t have to be
physically strong. “Strong” doesn’t necessarily refer to her physical
prowess or her ability to kick someone’s butt.
This is one of the biggest problems I see in certain authors
today. There’s such a rush to create “strong female characters,” and yet people
don’t realize what that means. These writers claim to have a “strong female
character,” but she’s not a good
character. She’s not developed or complex or real. She’s great with a gun, sure,
but she’s flat as cardboard when it comes to personality. They assume strong =
physically strong, as in not the classic damsel in distress when it comes to
the action scenes. Which is something, sure, but that’s not what a strong
female character should be.
Strong female character means a well-developed character who
happens to be female. She’s strong as a character,
as in her character can stand on her own. Her backstory, her personality, her
wants, and her needs don’t depend or completely revolve around other
characters. A strong female character could be anything from an ass-kicking
soviet assassin to a 5’1’’ girl who can hardly lift a 50lb box but still
refuses to give up when X disaster happens in her life.
It’s more about a strong personality and a strong core
character than a strong body. And you know, great characters aren’t perfect.
They can mess up. They can get scared or cry or run away. That doesn’t mean
they’re weak, and that doesn’t automatically exclude them from the sought-after
title of “strong female character.”
Strong doesn’t mean physically powerful. Strong doesn’t mean
perfect. Strong means a complex, real human being with a distinct personality
and compelling goals.