her body her eyes her everything

fleur delacour falling in love with bill weasley because he sees her. his youngest brother looked and went hair-eyes-teeth-legs, thought body, thought sex. her whole life, men have been looking and seeing a thing, not a girl. since she turned thirteen and bud-breasts pressed up against her shirts and boys at school wanted to sit close, men back home lingered too long in hugs.

until she was fifteen she dressed herself in shame before she put any clothes on at all. wore everything a few sizes too big, a few inches too long. draped herself in thick fabrics to hide the body beneath them. never learned that hot eyes on her were the fault of their owners, not her. took the uncomfortable stares and the endless flirtation as a fact of life. was fourteen the first time she dared to say “stop looking!” and met only laughter.

it’s not until she’s nearly sixteen and her sister is turning ten that she sees eyes begin to slide over her and to gabrielle. a friend of their father’s, not even that deep into a bottle of wine, caresses a child-round cheek and murmurs a line from lolita, eyes too bright and lips too dry. gabrielle flickers a panicked glance around the room. that look is so familiar. the same hour fleur switches her baggy sweatshirt for a crop top and rolls her skirt over two inches. 

they will look at her. never at her sister.

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This was inspired by @caffeinewitchcraft‘s story here:

You take her, because she is beautiful, and you want her. You call it love.

You take her, and she does not struggle or try to break free. You call it love.

And you build her a house by the shore, and you do not reprimand her for her odd ways; the strange songs she sings in her crying, crooning tongue, and the way she always stares out at the sea. You are gentle to her, and she does not complain. And she is still beautiful, and you still want her. So you call it love.

You always ask her what she wants, what she needs, in everything except the most important thing. You want to forget that she is a captive, so you never ask if she wants to be free. You want her to be happy, so you ignore the sadness in her eyes. You want her to love you, so you kiss her salt-rimed lips and press your warmth into her cold body, and believe that her tongue in your mouth means everything you want it to.

You want her to forget she is chained, and so you hide the key. She smiles at you, now, and she does not object when you twine your fingers through her dark hair. She is perfect and beautiful, even if she does stare too much at the sea. When she bears your first child, you are overcome with joy, and a little of the sadness lifts from her as the dark-eyed baby boy is placed in her arms. His skin is soft and fair, and you do not notice the slight webbing between his fingers and toes. You come to forget that she is chained, and you forget where you hid the key.

The children (the years have flown and there are three of them now, dark haired, eyes like the seals’, with sturdy chubby bodies made for playing in the waves) swim in the ocean and catch fish with their bare hands, three more links in the forgotten chains. You hear their laughter, and smile, and never wonder why it is that your wife never laughs.

You have almost forgotten how this started, your family in the cottage on the shore. You no longer taste salt on your wife’s tongue, or feel any coldness on her skin. Her voice is familiar now, and the odd inflections and rolling consonants that puzzled you at first cease to be noticeable at all. She is still beautiful, and you are sure that she loves you.

One night, when the full moon is shining brightly, the seals come in to shore, and cry like children in the waves. You have not seen a seal since the day you took her. Your wife runs down to the strand and cries back to them, speaking in the language that she still uses to sing to your children. And fear runs through you.

You follow her out, and shout at the seals, and throw rocks at them (seal skins are fetching a good price, now, but somehow you know better than to bring out your gun). They dive into the waves, leaving the sea dark and blank, and your wife collapses sobbing on the sand. You stroke her hair and whisper words of comfort, and lead her back to the house, ignoring the way she falls against you, as though she’s forgotten how to walk. (Long ago, you supported her in the same way, and she left a trail of water behind her as you walked her to your home). Inside, you pour her a dram of whiskey and watch over her until she falls asleep.

She is quieter after that, and often you catch her walking on the beach, looking out at the sea. Your fear grows, for you need her now, and you believe that this is the same thing as love. She sleeps more often now, and sometimes when you come home the children tell you that she has not been able to get out of bed today.

You do not ask if she is sick.

The fourth child is born, and this one has yellow hair and grey eyes, eyes the color of a stormy sea. She does not look like either you or your wife, and for a moment, you wonder…. But you love your wife, and you put this out of your mind, forget it as you have forgotten so much else. And the child has one good effect, at least, for your wife seems happy again; she smiles at the baby, and plays with the children, and your worries fade….

Until the baby is four years old, and wants to climb everything: the rocks on the beach, the furniture, the walls….

And she climbs into the attic, back in the rafters, where none of the other children ever tried to go.

You are out fishing when she tugs on her mother’s skirt and asks the question: “Mother, why does Father keep an old fur coat in the rafters?”

Her heart skips a beat. For through all the years, she has never forgotten that she is a prisoner, nor has she ceased to feel her longing for the sea. Her voice scrapes in her throat as she says, “Show me.”

And there in the darkest corner of the attic, cobwebs clinging to her face and hair, she sees the bundle wedged between the rafters. She reaches out with trembling fingers and takes it, and a shock goes through her, like a stroke of lightning. Suddenly, she is alive again, alive after years upon years of feeling like a corpse made to walk and talk, living in her own grave… The pelt is still soft and smooth after all these years, and it smells of oil and fish. For a moment, all she can do is stand there, holding it to her cheek, remembering.

The children know that something has changed when she walks down the stairs, holding the pelt to her like a baby. They stare at her with wide, dark eyes, and she tries to smile for their sake, pitying them. “I must go,” she says. “The ocean is calling me, and I must go home. You’ve felt it too, haven’t you? The sea longing?”

They nod. The oldest, Ronan, says, “But we cannot live in the ocean.”

“No.” She clutches the pelt to her, a voice in head crying that she must go now, now, now! “You cannot, for you are not of the seal folk. What I have given you is… not an easy gift to bear. But the tides will obey you, and your fishing nets will be full, and—if ever you need me—truly need me—you may call out to the ocean, and I will come.”

They are looking at her with sad, wise eyes—seal eyes—and she feels both regret and pride when she realizes that they understand, that they will let her go. “Tell your father…” Her fists clench as she thinks of you, as she thinks of what you’ve done. “Tell him that I was never his for the taking. And I will never be his again. Tell him that the seals will remember the wrongs done to us. He will pay.”

“He loves you, Mama,” says Aine, the youngest. “He says so.”

She almost chokes, mouth twisting, and spits, “He doesn’t know the meaning of love.” She looks at the boys, Ronan, who is thirteen (he soon will be a man, she thinks) and Breen, who is eight. “Boys,” she says, seriously, “Promise me this: that if ever you love someone, you ask them to love you of their own free will. And if they do not, you must leave them be.”

“We promise,” they tell her. Breen is crying, and Ciara, eleven, is trying to hold back her tears.

She doesn’t want them to be unhappy, but she cannot stay here, in this tomb, any longer. “I love you,” she says, and hugs them one last time, and walks through the door.

The children follow her, silent, to the water’s edge, and watch as she drapes the pelt around her shoulders, as she dives into the waves.

After a moment, a seal’s head breaks the water. She gives them a final look, then swims away, rolling and playing in the waves, before she dives and disappears.

You come home to a silent house, and the accusing stares of your children. You don’t believe them when they tell you that she’s gone, until they show you the space in the rafters where the pelt used to be. When you want to cry and rage, they tell you it was your own fault. That you didn’t really love her.

It takes a long time for this to sink in.

You stop fishing, for your nets always come up empty and broken, and storms become unpredictable, the winds dangerous. You begin to believe that this is the seals’ revenge. They will not forget. They will make you pay.

And so you pay.

You wait until the children are grown and gone, off to be fishers and sailors far away. And on a moonless night, you take your boat (old now, and leaky) down to the ocean, rowing out across the black waters, away from the protection of the bay.

Long ago, you took a seal woman, because she was beautiful, and you wanted her. You called it love.

Now, when it’s far too late, you think that perhaps you did not know the meaning of love. You hope that you know it now.

The boat is found a few days later, washed up on a beach far from your home. It is empty.

The seals remember the wrongs done to them. And now, you have paid.

Some thoughts on Koriand’r

The thing I think of when I think about Starfire is that absolutely nothing about her, her appearance or personality, is subtle.

Her being bright orange is one thing, having hair that dwarfs the rest of her body is another. Her gigantic 80s hair has always been one of my favorite Starfire traits. Her chosen color for clothing is purple, her eyes glow green, and her choice of outfits for her days off are generally amazingly flashy. Not that she doesn’t pull them off fantastically, I never thought round, hot-pink shades could look so good.

And of course, Tamaraneans are an amazingly emotional race. Even more than humans, everything Tamaraneans do is emotionally fueled. Starfire does what she wants without beating around the bush. She speaks whatever is on her mind, and makes her every emotion and desire known.

When she first arrives on Earth, she can’t speak English, but makes her intentions known quite well through pure body language. When she does learn English, it’s by sticking her tongue down Robin’s throat- admitting afterwards that she didn’t actually need lip contact to learn, just touching his arm would have been fine. But she wanted to kiss him, so she did.

In the Geoff Johns Teen Titans run, she’s if anything more brash and outgoing. She tells Wonder Woman to get away from her home and leave Cassie Sandsmark alone, and then attacks her when she doesn’t. And then, when Diana gets back up and tells her not to do that again, Kori just shoots her again without a word. Pages later, she flings a Starbolt at Superman out of nothing but pure spite, knowing it would accomplish nothing but to insult him.

What am I saying with all this? I’m saying that Princess Koriand’r of Tamaran, AKA Starfire, is the coolest and I love her.

Știma Apelor aesthetic

Romanian folklore creatures series - V

Știma Apelor (Water Nymph) is, in the romanian mythology, a primitive freshwater divinity, responsible for aquatic stability and can cause both floods and drought. She presides over fountains, wells, springs, streams, brooks, rivers, lakes and other bodies of freshwater and she is described as a beautiful wild woman, with long green-blue hair and alluring eyes, half human-half fish while living in the water. 

When angered by humans, Știma comes out of the water with streams of water behind her, flooding everything on her way, villages, fields, people and animals. After she calms down, she returns to her home. She can also take the appearance of a young beautiful woman with long hair and seductive eyes, which attracts the boys to drown them.

My Angry Gruvia Fic after Ch. 522 & 523 Spoilers

A/N: I just had to write this because I’m beyond upset right now about where Mashima is going with Gray’s “Trump Card”. I still have hope, and I trust sensei. But I need to channel my frustrations somewhere before the official chapters are out lol. 

(I was gonna write a Valentine’s Day special for my OTP, but after these recent chapters I’ve been in a bit of a slump)

Everything was finally over. And as he sloppily got up from the ground, he saw her. She was making her way slowly over across what was left of the battlefield, with Wendy supporting half her body weight.

His eyes lit up. “Juvia!” 

Her sky blue hair was stained purple at some parts from blood, but her face, although twisted in pain and some other emotion he couldn’t read, still looked as pretty as ever. Juvia stumbled towards him while clutching the wound on her stomach with one hand. 

Gray rushed over to her as quickly as his broken legs could muster. 

“Juvia! You’re ok-”

A sharp, deafening sound echoed across the ruins as her hand collided with his left cheek. The impact made him stumble back, and he instinctively brought his fingers to the side of his face, which was now bright red in colour. Gray’s eyes widened in shock, and his breath caught in his throat. But the harsh, stinging pain from the slap couldn’t compare to the look of utter betrayal written on her face.

By now, the water mage had broken free from Wendy’s hold. The sky dragon slayer’s nervous attempt to calm her down seemed to go unnoticed.

“Gray-sama… how could you?” The water mage bit out, tears threatening to fall. 

He still couldn’t move. What was happening? Did Juvia just… slap him? Were the fire and anger in her eyes directed at him?

“Lost Iced Shell?” She said menacingly. “How could you use something so despicable?!”

Her voice pierced through his ears and made his stomach clench uncomfortably. It was the first time she’s yelled at him. 

“How could you try to erase yourself from existence after Juvia tried everything to bring you back!”

Gray felt his blood boil at that, the words reminding him of that dreadful moment when he thought he had lost her forever. His hands shot out and grasped her shoulders roughly. “Who told you to save me? Who gave you permission to sacrifice your life for my sake Juvia?!” 

She threw his hands off and pushed him away. “Yes, Juvia saved you because she would rather have Gray-sama live on happily than for both of us to meet a meaningless end. However, Gray-sama had a choice. And despite knowing that all your friends would be against it, you still chose to die!”

“Gray-sama is ungrateful and selfish,” she continued tearfully. “Who does Gray-sama think he is… to erase such an important person from everyone’s memories!”

“Juvia-san…” Wendy eased her grip on the water mage’s arm and tried to hold back from crying.

Gray swallowed hard in response to Juvia’s scolding. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. He didn’t realize that by casting Lost Iced Shell, he was robbing everyone’s memories of him without their permission. And he had no right to make that decision for them. 

“Gray-sama…” she sniffled, “probably never intended to share a future with Juvia, that’s why he was willing to perish without giving her an answer.” 

“What?!” The ice mage whipped his head up and took a step forward. “Juvia, you know that’s not-”

“But even so!” she interrupted. “Juvia is not the only one who loves Gray-sama. So please, don’t try to solve everything by yourself all the time. Rely on someone, even if it’s not Juvia….” 

“Wait!” A strong hand found her wrist and formed a death grip. “Juvia, let me talk.” Her words suddenly spiraled him into panic. He wanted to tell her that she’s got it all wrong, that his answer had been ‘yes’ long before he’d realized his feelings for her. But his fingers only trembled against her unmoving hand, and his breath became quick. Why couldn’t he shake the feeling that he was going to lose her a second time? 

The water mage gently pulled her hand out of his grasp and turned away, eyes hidden by her bangs. “Juvia will give up now, Gray-sama.”

His heart stopped.

“Juvia is… so tired.” 

A/N: Hmph, that’s what you get Gray.  >:(  That’s what you get for being a noble idiot!!! Now go to your room and reflect on what you’ve done! 

Living With You

read on ff.net and ao3

tags: @beaxnalu

rating: t+ for sexual joking, swear words, and mild smut later on

pairings: nalu, slight gajevy this chapter, possible mentions of gruvia later on

characters: natsu, lucy, gajeel, levy, gray

summary: Finding herself thrown out and drunk after a party wasn’t the way Lucy expected her night to go. After blacking out and waking up in a room with three men, she has a decision to make: will she stay or will she go? Loosely based on New Girl. Roommates!AU

Lucy felt like she was drowning.

Her feelings felt murky like she was underwater and couldn’t get out. The words were muffled and the sights were but a blur. Everything felt plain wrong, like someone had wrapped cellophane over her whole body and tried to get her to move. Her limbs were stuck in their tight positions; just lifting the bottle to her lips to drown her sorrows was exhausting. Lucy fought to just stay awake. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her cold seat of a bench wasn’t much help for something to hold on to. Rain droplets flicked on her body and kept her from warmth. The only thing she felt was cold, and the only thing she saw was the bright lights burning her eyes.

Lucy was having an anxiety attack, an eight point three on a scale of ten, and there was no one to save her. As she fell off of her bench seat and onto the concrete, she didn’t care if she died or lived. All she wanted was relief from this hell. The face of the man who abandoned her came into her mind’s eye, and she curled up into a soft ball with the strength she could muster. Voices hit her all at once, calling her names like they once did. She succumbed to a quiet death on the concrete sidewalk next to a 7 Eleven, and she didn’t care who found her body.

And then, the sound of a voice was shockingly loud. The sentence crying for help was shouted, but to Lucy the emotions sounded dull and the words shallow, and she blocked them out. She could only trust the person that had found her.

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“How did you do it?” she asks her friend, shards of her broken heart causing her to choke on the words.

“Do what?”

“How did you let him go? How did you go from having a best friend to share everything with, to so suddenly having nothing at all?”

“It was like knives,” she whispers, “stabbing my fragile body with every breath I took. I could not escape the thought of him. I didn’t know that the absence of a single person could weigh my heart so heavily.”

She closes her eyes for a moment and remembers the strength it took to make the choice to pick herself up.

“But it comes down to a choice,” she continues. “You can mope around the house all day overwhelmed with sadness and burn your toast on purpose and stain his t-shirts with tears. Or, you can get up. Get out of bed at 6am to watch the sunset. Eat expensive desserts. Exercise. Check out abandoned coffee shops. Dance in your underwear. Laugh until you cry because you’re finally laughing for yourself. You have to take care of yourself and realize that new beginnings are on the way and they will be beautiful.
It’s hard to let go of it all. I know it is. But when the choice comes along, you have to choose yourself.”

—  it’s okay to be alone

A/N: Here’s a little drabble-ish thing I wrote inspired in, you guessed, Hamilton. Enjoy! xx

Originally posted by hunterchesters

And then, she was born.

She was perfect. Her little body didn’t do justice to what she brought into the world; hope, safety, and love.

She arrived crying, breaking his heart. But the moment she was covered with the little pink blanket, everything fell into place.

That’s what Dean thought when he saw her in his arms.

She had his eyes, making him so happy that, after all what he’d been through, something he made would make it right after him.

And then, she smiled.

Everything Dean thought he knew, fell apart around him.

That’s when he knew what he had to do. He needed to protect her.

He promised himself that he’d fight and bleed, even die, for her wellness, although he hadn’t had someone who did that for him. He’d make it right for her.

This kind of life wasn’t what he was used to do, but for her, he’d do anything.

He’d make mistakes, everyone made them, but he’d do whatever it took for her and to make her feel safe, to make the world a better place for her.

But most importantly, he knew she would amaze the world. Someday.

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prompt fill

@zennie-fic and I exchanged prompts, so here is a gift for u, friend!

In response to the prompt: What happened to my clothes?

It’s the beeping that wakes her. She’s warm and comfortable - is comfortable even the word? She feels like she doesn’t have a body to be comfortable in, it’s just her, body-less and floating in the warmth. It’d be perfect, except for that damn beeping.

Maggie opens her eyes to give it a stern talking-to, and a gray ceiling with dim lighting swims into view. She blinks at it, but it doesn’t really get any more focused or any more interesting, so she tries the rest of the room instead, raising her head to look blearily around.

Everything is kind of grim and bare and definitely not her bedroom, even though she’s in a bed, and even though that is her girlfriend asleep in a plastic chair next to her, one hand draped lightly next to Maggie’s shoulder.

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“Jesus titty fucking Christ on a unicorn, Molly!” He gasps. “Where on Earth did you learn to do that with your tongue?”

And Sherlock flops back on the couch of 221. Rakes one hand through his sweaty, dishevelled curls. He’s gasping and breathless. Near boneless with pleasure.

Dishevelled, mischievous, Specialist Registrar Molly Hooper crawls up his body, licking her lips and grinning.

Her little hand is still inside his smalls and trousers, her dark eyes are glinting in mirth and victory.

“Told you it would only take eight minutes,” she says brightly. “Apparently EVERYTHING with me takes only eight minutes…”

With a sudden bark of laughter Sherlock pulls her to him. Kisses her soundly.

“You took eight minutes, ” he growls. “Give me an hour and then see how cocky you feel… ”

And without another word he pulls her to him, sets about a more thorough debauching than hers.

An hour later she’s the one panting…

Turns out, neither eight minutes nor sixty are enough for them.

The Easy Way (Prologue) - Carl Grimes & Negan Imagine

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20


summary: aftermath of the lineup

a/n: wowzers there are now more than 700 people following this blog that’s crazy thank you for putting up with me

let me know what you think! my messages and inbox are always open, and i respond to everything :-)

word count: 1122

tagged users: @deeindarkwonderland @namelesslosers 

Everything around you was moving in slow motion as your head was clouded with the images of Abraham collapsing onto the cement. His body lay lifeless, twitching on the ground for a moment before becoming still, the rise and fall of his chest slowing until his lungs could no longer take in any new breaths. Your mouth hung open, and your eyes opened and closed in thirty-second intervals. 

Maggie stared at the ground in front of her, avoiding the living and the dead bodies which surrounded her. Her mind was as scrambled as yours; varying from blank static waves to the last words of her loved ones–her lover. Her breathing quickened as her eyes darted towards Glenn’s corpse, which was something you hadn’t yet dared to attempt. 

You weren’t ready to see Abraham’s body; to discover him in a whole new way you wished you never had been exposed to. He was the one constant in your life–your last connection to the world before it all went to hell–and now he was gone. He had vanished into thin air within seconds, but his lifeless body lay in front of you. 

Sasha couldn’t look at you because you didn’t know about her and Abraham. Rosita was afraid to look at you because she was the only person who loved him almost as much as you did. Rick didn’t know what to say, and he knew he couldn’t make it better. All he could do was hope his son would be there for you, and that you’d have someone to rely on. 

Carl placed a hand on your shoulder, and you turned around, falling into his embrace without questioning yourself. Nobody said a word, so the sound of his rapidly beating heart was the only thing proving that you were still conscious. Your ears rang like sirens, and your head pounded like the strongest man alive had placed his hands on each side of your face and squeezed. 

You were thankful he didn’t apologize, because you wouldn’t know how to respond in an acceptable way. Then again, nothing was really unacceptable those days. He had told you about his mom dying, and how much of a toll it took on his dad. He knew what it was like to lose someone, but he did’t know what it was like to lose the last person you had. 

Yes, Carl had lost many loved ones, but he always had his dad right by his side. When his mom died and his dad went a little wild, he had Judith to motivate him to remain strong. Maggie had lost her entire family, and then Glenn was torn from her. She truly had nobody left who she felt she connected with. You felt like you were in a similar situation, but at least you had Carl. 

Originally posted by imagine-multifandom

Carl’s hand combed through your knotted hair calmingly. You counted the strokes his calloused fingertips paved in an attempt to steady your breathing. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on your lower back, causing your eyes to drift shut peacefully. His grip on you was loose enough so you didn’t feel suffocated, but tight enough that you felt safe. 

With Carl, you always felt protected. At times, it bothered you. You were treated like such a kid when it was just you, Rosita, Eugene, and Abraham on the road. When you met Rick’s group and saw that there was a boy your age, you were hoping for some kind of realization to come over your brother and Rosita, and that they’d learn that you could take care of yourself. 

But all you needed in that moment was some sense of security. You needed time to allow yourself to mourn, but you knew that just wasn’t likely. The world didn’t slow down for anybody, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to make an exception for you. That was part of survival, though. You take what you can and you deal with it, whether you like it or not. 

Your mind and body battled each other, for your eyelids were droopy and heavy, but your head was cluttered with too many thoughts to clarify. You needed seep, but you knew that wasn’t realistic at all. It was made clear by the growing nausea in your stomach that you wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon. You could pretend, though. You’d have to get used to that. 

Marilyn Monroe was considered one of the most beautiful women, and it’d been said that she lacked confidence. What she lacked in self-esteem, she made up for by faking it. Eventually, she had been faking it for so long that she actually grew to consider herself a confident woman. Maybe if you convinced yourself you were okay for long enough, you would become okay over time. 

The thing is, time wasn’t something you could wait for. Time was against you, and it was winning. Your heart was shattered by the man who killed your brother, and you felt like your body ceased all functions. You didn’t have any time to spare. If you slowed down for a minute to catch your breath, you would be as dead as Abraham. He wouldn’t have wanted that. 

He would never want you to spend time mourning him. He had spent many sorrowful nights discussing the protocol you were to follow in the circumstance of his death. You always laughed when he brought that up, content in your belief that he would live much longer than you. Abraham seemed to think otherwise, though. He was wiser than most gave him credit for. 

Originally posted by monasax

The RV rocked as the uneven pavement created friction against the worn down tires. Your chest rose and fell at an even pace, easing Carl to sleep. He couldn’t relax until he was sure you were okay. He wouldn’t allow you to deal with this alone, but you could tell he was tired. You went out of your way to make him talk to you, seeing as his voice was the only sound that wasn’t completely terrifying. 

You woke up in the morning, sunshine peaking in through the thin curtains of the RV. Carl’s limp body lay next to you, his hair a mess and his limbs flopped across the makeshift bed you had created out of old couch cushions and some extra blankets. Carl seemed so peaceful. His breaths were nearly silent, and his body was relatively still. It wasn’t often that you’d encounter someone sleeping peacefully. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be easy for you to heal after the loss of your brother, but you would learn to cope with the help of the boy whose arms held you close to the center of your universe. 

Alice told me what she’d seen of Carlisle and his family. I could hardly believe that such an existence was possible. But Alice made me optimistic. So we went to find them.”

“Scared the hell out of them, too.” Edward said, rolling his eyes at Jasper before turning to me to explain. “Emmett and I were away hunting. Jasper shows up covered in battle scars, towing this little freak.” He nudged Alice playfully— “who greets them all by name, knows everything about them, and want to know which room she can move into. When I came home, all my things were in the garage.

—  I forget how sassy Edward is in the books.
Gift Fic: The Countdown


Rated: T


Count Down

Requested by: @bluestsunset

During the Year Gap

New Year’s Kiss Gruvia


Juvia smiled, humming lightly, they were six months into their training and isolation, her and her beloved Gray.

While she missed Fairy Tail, she was given an opportunity that she never had. She was spending all of her time alone with Gray. They were training and playing a more domestic light. She cooked for him, slept by him, trained with him… and she loved him.

Her body moved with his, the two perfecting their attacks. She used her water as a way for him to spread his ice. Their elements part of one another making everything so wonderful.

It was as if they were made for each other in her mind. Her being water was his base… his structure, his soul. And him being ice was her future and path.

Gray and Juvia…

She still imagined little kids running around with her Gray’s messy locks, her blue locks and his steel eyes, or with his dark locks, her waves and curls, and her blue eyes.

The ideas made her happily squeal when she was alone. Having learned how to avoid annoying her beloved, for she knew occasionally she pushed her limits with him.

“Juvia, come on. I want to get another session in before bed.” Gray commented, his eyes looking to Juvia as the male stood there in a pair of pants and without a shirt. His chest was exposed, showing the soft toned skin that was decorated with some silvery and some pink scars.

“Yes Gray!” She smiled broadly, following after him practically having hearts in her eyes as she moved with him to go outside into the icy weather.

It had once bothered her, the cold, yet the longer she spent with Gray, the less it affected her. The cold was something she became accustomed to when Gray touched her or when they trained together. His hands icy against her warm skin as he corrected her stance here or there.

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Please, Wake Up

Y/N waved at the nurses as she shouldered her bag, finished with another shift at the hospital.

She enjoyed what she did, reading to the younger children, and occasionally visiting the patients her age, but at times, it could be exhausting.

Today was one of those days, where her body and heart felt drained of everything, seeing the small children having to suffer.

But she was able to bring them a small piece of joy once in a while with reading stories, and that would have to do.

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i found this through my docs. it is an old thing i wrote for a fic i planned to do (but that lost it’s magic to me) , where adrien gets a girlfriend , named sara, and mari gets hurt protecting her. i felt like i needed to rescue one of the drabbles bc i still really like it, mostly bc of alya.

Marinette’s vision turned red. She had to save her, she had to save Adrien’s girlfriend. She wasn’t going to let destiny take someone else away from Adrien. He wasn’t going to lose someone he loved, not if she could stop it.

She threw her yo-yo to the closest building, jumped off and swung as fast as she could. She extended all her body and released her yo-yo to drop fast to the ground.

“Watch out!” She shouted and pushed Sara out of the way.

Everything happened so quickly. Marinette wasn’t looking around or thinking of the consequences, she only had eyes for Sara.

She was on the floor with her mouth hanging open looking at her. She was safe, Adrien’s girlfriend was safe.

“Are you okay?” Ladybug asked and offered her hand to the girl, when she was kneeling to go closer to her is when she felt the pain. And she understood the expression on Sara’s face.

In her left side, close to her hips a big branch full of thorns cut across her body. Ladybug heard a laugh behind her and then in a fast move the branch was gone.

“Oh my god!” Sara shouted and pointed at Ladybug

“Run” Ladybug ordered and turned to face the akuma.

The Gardener was smiling from ear to ear and for the first time in a long, long time Marinette felt real fear.


It was time to quit… Marinette had to quit. 

She jumped back to the street. It would be easier to move if she wasn’t jumping from rooftop to rooftop, and hiding was easier since the building projected shadows where she could hide . 

It was still hard. She had a hole in the middle of her tummy, and it wasn’t a tiny one, no matter if Tikki was helping with magic making the suit regenerate and create a type or bandage on top of her wound. It wasn’t enough.

After running four blocks down, she saw her. 

Alya was running with Nino behind her, camera in one hand and phone in the other. She was pointing at the rooftops… she was looking for Ladybug, as she always was. 

Alya always had found a way to be in the middle of the fight, she was reckless and now, since Nino wasn’t able to stop her, he came along.

Marinette hated how her best friend didn’t thin about the consequences of being in the middle of an attack, but now she couldn’t be happier to see her. “Alya!” Ladybug shouted and ran in her direction, dodging branches and people, trees, and cars, trying to hide in between them so The Gardener couldn’t notice her presence. 

Alya didn’t turn around, she was too immersed in the report of the fight, but Nino did and he took Alya’s hand to stop her and point at Ladybug. 

“Ladybug!” Alya shouted and ran towards her. The smile on Alya’s face completely disappeared when she realized the different shade of red on Ladybug’s costume.

“Ladybug” Alya gasped.

“I need your help” Marinette said and threw herself to Alya’s arms.

 Alya dropped her camera and took Ladybug on her arms. Getting help from Nino after he picked up the camera she had threw to the floor.

 “We gotta go… an alley… with no one around…” Ladybug said between heavy breaths. 

“You need a hospital, Ladybug!” Nino shouted but moved along with Alya who was doing what she was asked. 

“Not now” Ladybug answered and let the strength who was holding her body go, relying only in the strength of her friends. 

Alya and Nino ran with Ladybug on her arms to the first abandoned alley they could find. Hiding beside a dumpster and placing Ladybug against a wall

“We have to call Chat Noir” Alya said and took her phone, tapping on the screen a few numbers.

“No” Ladybug shook her head in negative “Y-you g-gotta help-p him” 

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Teach Me

Smut. That is all. You can decide when it takes place because I don’t have a time frame in mind. This might be (is) inspired by a Grey’s Anatomy scene. This is only one part to this fic because I have a lot in mind for this.

Kate stared in the mirror of the bathroom, ignoring the grime in the corners and the general smudged look of the whole thing. All she cared about was what she saw looking back at her. She didn’t look drastically different from the girl who left Bethel with her father and brother in a camper with no idea what awaited her south of the border. Some of her baby fat was gone, leaving behind more definition in her face and body, but that was about.

It was her eyes where the most change happened. Once she was innocent, bordering on naive, but everything happened and she changed. There was no bright-eyed, life is great Kate Fuller left. She was practical. She lived day-to-day with no real plan for the next. In her mind, she’d grown leaps and bounds since the day that she realized the world was far stranger than she ever knew.

Yet somehow, it seemed like she was the only one who noticed. Seth had left her out of yet another job, always saying that he would include her next time. She was tired of it. When she walked out of the bathroom, Seth was reclining on his bed with his legs crossed and a phone book in his hands. It was tempting to mock him for the use of something that seemed almost archaic to her but she held back.

“I’m probably going to get food. Want something?” Seth asked.

Kate didn’t answer, crossing to her bed to zip up her bag.

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The Gym

Pairing: Calum & Y/N

Words: 1500+

Warning: nsfw 

Boxer Calum + thigh riding is a really hot combination js


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The Joker x Reader  4 (part 1)

Read Part 2 here:  


Prequel 1:


        You’re slowly starting to come back to your senses. You hear muffled laughter and you feel the van moving. Everything hurts, especially the blow to your head.

        “Let’s see how he likes her now” somebody snickers. More laughter. “Don’t forget to put the present in her purse. Let’s drop her at his penthouse before she wakes up. I don’t want the bitch to break more of our bones.”

        You try to open your eyes, but you can’t. You sense you’re being moved and the pain makes you whimper.

       “Quickly, drop her on the stairs!”

      Your body being slammed on the concrete feels like a thousand knifes piercing your flesh. You hear tires screeching, then gun shots. “Omg, miss Y/N!”  “Is that Frost?” you wonder, finally managing to open your eyes. It is him. You sigh in relief. He fires a few more shots after the van; afterwards he picks you up in his arms, carrying you inside the building.

      “Boss!!!! Boss!!!” he screams, as you see the other henchmen stopping in disbelief when you two pass by.

    “What is…” you see J rushing out of the office, stopping in his tracks at the horrible view in front of his eyes. “it?…”  He lifts his arms, speechless, signaling Frost to give you over to him. You try to smile as he squeezes you tight, his blue eyes darkened. He’s shaking. “Where is… Dr. Quinzel?”he growls, “did anybody… fucking call her?” he suddenly shouts like a madman, making you jump.

       “Yes, sir, she’s coming, 30 minutes tops!” Kevin answers.

     “Tell her she doesn’t have 30 minutes!!!!” he yells over his shoulder, already heading towards the elevator. “Frost, come!” J commands, straining himself to lift you higher in his arms. You moan in pain, clenching your fists at his shirt. “I’m sorry, baby doll, I didn’t mean to do that,” he whispers touching your cheek with his face.

       Once on the 30th floor, you know you’re home. J takes you to your master bedroom and carefully places you on the bed. It is then when he notices the little piece of paper stapled to your torn dress: “Don’t worry, we used condoms, we don’t want to catch crazy from your whore :)  “. He takes a deep breath, his eyes getting watery. He examines you and he sees the aftermath in all its debilitating, gory truth: your dress is a mess, all cut to pieces, your legs scratched, bruised, dry blood all over. “God damn it…” he exhales, passing his fingers through his green hair. “God..damn…it” he looks at you, mortified. You bite your lip, trying to hold your tears in, while attempting to cover yourself with the sheets. You can’t even look at him anymore. He takes a sit right by you, turning your face towards him. “Who touched my girl?” he asks, his jaw clenched, caressing your lips. “Who did this?…Who had the nerve… to touch… MY FUCKING GIRL??!!”  He screams so loud that Frost takes a step backwards.  J is starting to lose control. He can’t bear the thought that somebody else touched and hurt you so badly.

         “ S..sir…” Frost says, hesitant. “She had this with her.” He hands over your purse to the Joker. They drew a smiley face on it and wrote: “Surprise Inside”. J sniffles opening the purse, and takes out a DVD. He looks at it and gives it back to his henchman: “Go and put it in the other room, I’m coming shortly. “ He suddenly seems so calm.  Frost nods in agreement and leaves the bedroom.

        “Baby doll, let’s get you cleaned up, the good doctor will be here soon.” He gently helps you up and takes you to the bathroom. You walk slowly, holding on to him, tears starting to fall from your eyes. He doesn’t say anything; he just turns on the water in the bathtub, takes your clothes off and slowly places you inside. The water feels good, but it burns so bad. You instinctively touch your hot spot, letting out a cry.  

         You hear him gulp, his eyes checking you out, worried sick. “Y/N…they are all dead…all of them…do you hear me?” He kneels by the bathtub, taking your hand and covering it in kisses. “I will kill them all… I will find them and kill them all… Was it Kane and his men? Was it them that took you?…” You blink “yes”. He tilts his head . “I’m sorry this happened to you, baby doll…” he mumbles, trying to get up, defeated.

         “Puddin…” you utter, grabbing him and pulling him down so you can hug him. “ I was so scared…” He suddenly wraps your arms around you so tight you feel you can’t breathe. But you don’t want him to let go so you don’t complain. It is heaven to fill him so close to you again after what happened, so comforting.


      The Joker left you in the bathtub to relax, waiting for Dr. Quinzel.  Just you and your demons now. You stare at the sealing, deep in thought. How long has it been? Almost 10 years. 10 years since you two met on your 26th birthday at one of his clubs. He took an interest in you because you match his crazy. And you couldn’t resist that devious smile. Two notorious, insane criminals that have nothing else going for themselves in this world except your loyalty to each other. That’s about it.

         A sudden thump wakes you up to reality. You move a little bit, wrapp yourself in a big towel and get out of the bathtub. As you pass by the mirror, you take a glimpse at your reflection . Wow, what a sight! You don’t really look like yourself anymore : your face swollen, cut on your lip, that big bump on your head… You shiver, parting your long, red hair while heading for the hallway. Where is J?…

       You hear voices coming from the office by your master bedroom. You approach slowly, your heart beating louder and louder as you recognize the screams: they’re yours. The Joker is sitting on the couch, watching the video it was send to him. He doesn’t notice you’re there.

      “Grab her!!! Grab her, what the hell, she’s a woman!” Kane giggles as he watches you hit a few of his men with your baseball bath. You hear the sound of broken bones you crush and cussing, cornered in the small room, defending yourself with that crazy grin on your face. “Who’s next, you jerks ?” you say while swinging the weapon with   both hands. There must be about 20 men around you.

       “Come on, don’t be pussies, she’s all alone!” Kane claps. “Chop-chop, lads, we don’t have all night!” All of them regroup and charge, you are outnumbered.
“Jeez, finally, you guys got me worried, letting a woman bit your asses.” Kane says, satisfied. You struggle to escape; you scratch and bite whatever you can.

“Ohhhhh, Mistah J, you have a feisty one, I like that.” He turns towards the camera, smiling. You watch yourself being pinned to the table, while Kane starts touching you all over. You scream in disgust, spitting on him. “Hey, hey, stop!” he punches you in the face and you start laughing, licking your bloody lips. “Crazy bitch!” he screams, annoyed. “Hey, hey, tell me something.” He grabs your hair, pulling it hard, forcing you to look at him. “Hey, beautiful, are the rumors true?… Is it true you don’t sleep with anyone else but the Clown? That you are only his? And he doesn’t screw no other hoe but you? Is it true you have that pact? Hmmm?”

          You grunt under his weight: “Wouldn’t you like to know, asshole?” He slaps you, turning towards the camera again. “Well, Mistah J, you should have thought twice before trying to take over my side of town. Gotham is not yours, ok? “He flips off the camera, satisfied. “ Well, we got this sweettttt princess of yours and we will show her what she’s been missing out in the last years. Hit her!” You see one of his men holding your baseball bath and you cringe as you see yourself passing out on camera from the impact.

         “Stop watching this!” you cry out, walking in front of the TV and turning it off. J gets up, startled. “ I don’t even…I don’t even know how many there were…I didn’t give them permission to touch me… Only you… can do that…” you find yourself chocking in your own words and you have to stop. “Baby doll…”He moves towards you, breathing heavily from the anguish and remorse he fells.  He wasn’t there to protect his only treasure.

          “I’m not your doll anymore, J… ”,you say stepping back , not being able to control your sobbing, all these horrible emotions taking over. You reach out to grab your gun from the table and you point it to your head. “Find yourself another one.” Your fingers are shaky on the trigger. They are usually not. It’s because of him, you think before he interrupts the voices in your head.

       “I don’t want another one…” the Joker whispers, taking off his purple shirt, revealing the big tattoo he has on his chest with your name on it. He lifts his hands in surrender, coming closer to you. “Remember when we got our tattoos? You have my name on your skin and I have yours. Just you and me against the world, right, baby doll?”

          You start to have doubts. But why would he want a broken doll?…

         “Lower the gun, Y/N… Please?… For me?…If you pull the trigger, you kill me too…” Your heart feels like it’s going to shred to pieces. He gets closer, inches away from you. “You don’t want to kill me now, do you?”

         You shake your head in denial, whiping your tears. ”Never…of course not…” He slowly takes the gun from your hand and you surrender. J lifts you in his arms and kisses you softly, not wanting to cause you any more harm. “Avenge me…” you plead, looking in his icy blue eyes while kissing him back. “Kill them all!“

         “Gotham will burn!” he promises, his face suddenly lighting up with a scary smile. His queen will have revenge.

Also read - MASTERLIST :


Grey opened his eyes weakly as happy laid him on the ground. Everything was fuzzy and dull colored, everything but a certain shade of blue. He turned his head toward it as it was laid next to him. His finger reached for her and his eyes shut again.
Juvia felt pain as she was laid on the ground a groan escaped her lips but no one heard it. A dark fairy tail mark passed through her mind. She tried to touch the mark but her body wouldn’t move. She heard someone say the name of her beloved. Her face turned to the sound. Her eyes opened for a moment just missing his own eyes.


bucky x reader

Part 2 of Promise Me (here’s part one)

A/N: I wanted to write in the female perspective as well, and ended up sorta matching the two in the end. So, hope y’all enjoy!!

She couldn’t believe what had happened. She was sick to her stomach every morning and she couldn’t tell if it was from the pregnancy or the fact that he’s gone. He actually left her, out of the front door with all of his things. 

Everything, except for a picture of the two of them that hung crookedly on the wall in front of her. 

Her eyes shut as she breathed in deeply, sitting in their once shared living room with her knees to her chest. 

She remembered the way his arms would wrap around her waist as they slept, or the scruff that tickled her neck as he spread kisses across her body delicately. 

A tear slipped slowly down her cheeks, her eyes watching the picture frame. 

She had never felt love before. She wasn’t the kind of girl you’d expect to be in love, but she did. She loved him more than anything in the world and now she was lost without him. 

“I have to go.” 

The words replayed in her head like a nightmare, his lips seeming to be moving slower and slower each time she heard them. The dark shadows cascaded onto her face, the cars in the city driving passed as she wondered exactly where he’s going. 

“You can’t go. Take me with you!” 

She covered her ears in the hopes that she wouldn’t have to hear any of it again, but alas it continued to replay. The look on his face as he left the door, the pitiful smile he tried to give her in the hopes that one day they could maybe meet again. 

He didn’t know about the baby. She was going to tell him that night, the night that he left. She didn’t know what to do now that he was gone. 

“You have to stay here!” 

“No!” Her voice came out rough and scratchy, the glass lamp next to her being thrown to the wall while she collapsed into a fit of sobs. She was two months pregnant and now without a father, she was missing the one piece to the puzzle that she had hoped for. 

She gathered her knees to her chest again, her body shaking with sobs as she tried to figure out exactly why he left. 

She picked up her phone, deciding to dial his phone one last time. 

Sure enough, it went to voicemail after ringing for a minute. She smiled bitterly, wiping the tears away from her cheeks, “I hope you’re drinking clean water, and that you finally get some rest. I hope you get to meet your baby one day. I hope that this was worth it.” 

With that, she ended her last voicemail.  

Her eyes grew tired as she gathered her hair into a bun, standing from her spot on the floor and laying her body onto the couch tiredly. 

Her phone rang, her caller I.D. reading ‘Bucky’ in big letters across the screen. 

She jumped, quicker than ever before, answering the phone and sniffling into the mic. “Buck…?” 

“I love you. I’ll find a way out of this. Wait for me.” 

There was a click on the other end, and dial tone met her ears.