i had some others in the works but just getting these three done nearly killed me

3

So this handsome fellow is Peter Doyle, longtime partner of the great American poet Walt Whitman. He is often viewed as an enigmatic figure, but what we do know about him tells us that he was quite remarkable in his own right.

Pete was born in Limerick, Ireland, and came to the United States with his family when he was eight years old. After the death of his father, he worked hard to support his widowed mother and siblings. One of his brothers, Francis, became a police officer in Washington DC, where the family lived. Francis ended up fighting for the Union during the Civil War, while Pete served in the Confederate Army. He saw serious action and was wounded, discharged from the army, and promptly arrested when he attempted to go back to DC. He managed to get off the hook by claiming that, as an Irish immigrant, he really didn’t care one way or the other about Union versus Confederacy. True or not, this worked, and he was freed.

It was at this point that Pete took a job as a horsecar conductor. In the nearly empty streetcar, on a stormy night in early 1865, Pete met Walt Whitman. Pete as 21 at the time, while Walt was 45. According to the younger man, it was pretty much love at first sight. “We understood,” Pete said. Walt was the only passenger on the streetcar, and he didn’t get off at his planned stop. Instead, he rode with Pete until the end of the route, at which point the two men spent their first night together.

They were inseparable for the next seven or eight years. They’d often go for long walks together, with Walt reciting poetry or passages from Shakespeare. I am 100% not making this up.

And their letters. Oh my God, their letters. Not many of Pete’s to Walt survive, but Walt’s to Pete are so full of love that they’d melt the coldest heart. A sample quote: “My darling, if you are not well when I come back I will get a good room or two in some quiet place, and we will live together and devote ourselves altogether to the job of curing you, and making you stronger and healthier than ever. I have had this in my mind before but never broached it to you.”

As this excerpt implies, Walt very much wanted to make a home with his young partner. Sadly, this would never be possible. Pete, as the oldest unmarried son, saw it as his duty to provide for his mother and siblings. They – and the society in which they lived – had certain expectations. While Walt was on good terms with Pete’s family, getting them to accept wholeheartedly this same-sex relationship was an entirely different matter. The two men had to do with spending nights together.

Pete was definitely a tremendously positive influence on Walt and his work. He persuaded Walt to delete three poems dealing with themes of despair and unrequited love from the 1867 edition of Leaves of Grass. He may have also influenced one of his partner’s best-known works, “O Captain! My Captain!” The tone deals with the death of Abraham Lincoln and the end of the Civil War. It is unusual amongst Whitman’s works because it is rhymed, rather than written in free verse. Walt noted that Pete had quite the rhyming ability, often rattling off charming limericks. Also, some have argued that the metaphor of the ship on the rough sea is a kind of nod to Pete’s immigrant background.

The young immigrant was also an eyewitness to the greatest tragedy of the day. He was in the balcony of Ford’s theater on the night of April 14, 1865, when Lincoln was assassinated. He recounted hearing the shot, and then seeing Booth leap onto the stage. Later, Walt drew on this account as a source of information for his annual Lincoln lectures. And he wouldn’t have heard any of it, if it weren’t for his boyfriend!

Walt suffered a stroke in 1873, and moved to Camden, New Jersey, to live with his brother. He ended staying there until his death in 1892. Pete was unable to find work in Camden, though he did eventually get a job in Philadelphia. They saw each other only sporadically, and at one point Walt had gone so long without hearing from Pete that he thought the younger man had died. He hadn’t, but he was put off by the presence of a housekeeper and other caretakers in his partner’s house. He stayed away, for fear of rousing suspicion as to the true nature of the relationship. After Walt’s death, Pete expressed regret for his hesitation.

In 1897, Pete allowed Richard Maurice Bucke (Walt’s literary executor) to publish the letters written by Walt to Pete. The result was a book called Calamus. No one who read it would have any doubts as to the nature of the love between these two men. It made Pete the black sheep of his Catholic family, and his sister forbade the reading of the book in her house. I think we have to give the man some serious props here. It had to take a hell of a lot of courage to let something like that hit the presses in the 19th century. Maybe he was proud of himself, his partner, and their relationship, and saw no shame or sinfulness in any of it. I sincerely hope that this was the case, and that there was an element of defiance of social and religious norms that went into the publication of Calamus.

Pete remained a member of the “inner circle” of Whitman devotees until his own death in 1907. He is buried in DC’s Congressional Cemetery. His grave marker is a short walk from that of Leonard Matlovich, which famously reads, “they gave me a medal for killing two men, and a discharge for loving one.” Nowadays, Peter Doyle is usually included on history tours of the cemetery which focus on LGBT figures.

Excellent work has been done by Whitman scholars in order to rescue Pete from the shadows of history. We are beginning to understand just how much he influenced Walt, and what a fascinating man he is. “Pete the Great,” as he liked to call himself, is an enigma no more.

And now, to finish off this already very long post, a quick guide to the photos:

Top: Pete aged about 25 years, taken in 1868. Cool hat.

Middle: Pete aged 57, taken circa 1900. Cool mustache.

Bottom: Pete and Walt, circa 1868, ridiculously in love. This might be my favorite historical photograph of all time.

Delta (Bucky Barnes x Reader) Pt. 7  A/B/O

A/N: ALRIGHTY YALL! This one gets a lil wild!  😭 But it was super fun to write! I hope you guys like it! ENJOY! - Delilah ❤️ By the way, I added in a hidden Marvel character, let’s see if you guys can find them! (;

Warnings: Angst. Swearing. Sex. Violence. NSFW.

Series Masterlist

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Can I Boop Your Nose?

Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,539

Warnings: being crazy? Dean being roofied haha

A/N: This is for @impalaimagining’s 2k celebration challenge!!! My word that I picked was ‘Crazed’…I hope that all of you enjoy this! Feedback is greatly appreciated!! :D (*Unbeta’d so any and all mistakes are mine! aka it might be total shit lol)

Dean never thought you’d ever go behind his back like you had a few nights ago. Here he was sitting in a chair, in the mental hospital, in the same room Sam was occupying but now it housed you instead. Dean watched as you sat on the bed, picking up imaginary flowers around you and then proceeded to hand them over to him. Cas told him that you would and have been reacting differently than Sam had. You still see Lucifer here and there, he bothers you at night and whispers lies in your ear. Other than that, it’s almost like your mind is this innocent psychotic child.  

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❝ I want to spend my life with you ❞

Plot: Your boyfriend Yoongi has become over protective and possessive after what happened and you two fight.This is a second part of this scenario “No one can touch you

Pairing: YoongixReader

Words count: 2,5k+

Genre: Mafia!AU / Fluffy in the end. 

For anon, I hope you like it! M. 

Gif isn’t mine, credits to the owner! ♥

“Where are you going?” Yoongi’s gentle voice came from behind your back and lifting your eyes you saw his reflection in the mirror.  

He was wearing a black suit and a silver tie that you gave him a few months earlier, seemed one of those models just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine.  

“I need to get some air Yoongi..”  

“Fine, but Jungkook will be with you.” His bossy tone won’t surprised but annoyed you; “is it clear?”  

“Yoongi, I don’t need Jungkook.”  

“He’s one of my best men. If I say he shall be with you, he will stay with you. ” His tone was more annoyed than normal and he closed the issue with a wave of his hand, leaving you alone again. Just you and your own reflection in the mirror.  

Watching yourself you noticed you have lost weight and dark circles under your eyes were the witness of your struggle to sleep.  

It had been only three weeks since your kidnapping but, as normal, you were bringing the consequences on you. Fear had become a second skin for you but the behavior of your boyfriend made thing even worse.  

You could understand his fear, but he was suffocating you and it was a worse feeling than being tied to a chair for countless hours  

The container of the cream for the body you had in your hands ended up on the sink shelf, you didn’t have time to be gentle and put it back in place.  

You came out of the bathroom at a brisk pace, managing to lock Yoongi before he left your room.  

You stood between him and the door, throwing your arms slightly open and preventing him from getting the handle and letting you really alone.  

He raised an eyebrow in a curious expression while remaining silent, waiting for you to say something.  

“I don’t need Jungkook.”  

“It wasn’t my request, it was an order.” He remarked, his voice low and raspy while approached his face to yours; “Isn’t it clear, baby?”  

“I don’t need him. You’re acting like a fool Yoongi… Kyunsoo had a score to settle with you, but I think everyone are so terrorized by you now and therefore it’s impossible that they would touch me.”  It Was what you were saying for days and seemed to play better than you kept repeating into your mind.   

“Fool? A Fool? My girlfriend was almost killed and I’m the one who is acting like a fool? ”  

“Yes.. ”  

“It was an order, Y/N. I don’t want to discuss this further. ” He silenced you in less than two seconds, clutching his hands under your armpits and lifted you effortlessly by moving the door.  

Your eyes crossed for a second when he opened the door. His eyes were looking for the challenge into yours, yours were looking for some glimmer of understanding for you into his.  

But both were disappointed with the result and he went out without saying goodbye or give you a slight kiss on your lips as he used to do.  

“Y/N, are you re-shit, sorry I didn’t know you were still in your underwear” Jungkook’s shocked gaze was the thing you saw moments later, leaving him, however, enter the room with an angry snort  "I.. I l-look out… “  

"You kill people and you’re ashamed of a woman in babydoll?”  

Your question bowled him more than your clothing and a slight motion of tenderness possessed you. Jungkook was younger than you, but he was a ruthless serial killer when necessary. Yoongi took him under his wing when he was just a kid, that world had been imposed on him. He had not chosen as you had done years before.  

“Ten minutes and I’m ready, wait out Kookie.” You dismissed him and the relief on his face made you smile when he literally ran out of the room.  

Now you were alone, you just think of a way to escape Yoongi’s protection. A challenge more than difficult to nearly impossible.  

~ ~

“He was looking at you.”  

“While two people are talking it’s normal to look each other. ”  

“No, he was looking at you into a way I know all too well.” He was angry and as his voice that his taut body could make you understand; “But he’s going to get what he deserves.” He added with a slightly satisfied sneer.  

The space was dimly in the limo but you got to look back at him, knowing that your expression was even angrier than he was him.  

“What did you do?”  

“He’ll remember that he shouldn’t look at my woman in certain ways.”  

“YOONGI.” You shouted at him but he didn’t seem to have heard; “Yoongi answer me.”  

“I didn’t kill him if that’s what you’re thinking. But then again, only I can look at you in certain ways. ”  

“You’re crossing the bounds, Yoongi.”  

“You’re mine and so you’ve to stay.” He whispered into your ear, but you pushed him away causing yet another smirk. You hated that expression onto hi face, but you couldn’t slap him despite the urge.  

“Stay in the car, I’ve something to do.”  

“More orders. Did I become one of your men? ”  

“Don’t discuss baby, I’ll be right there in a few minutes.”  

“Whatever you say, Sir.”  

Reproached him in the way his men did seemed to annoy him, but he said nothing and got out of the car. You were ready to get off when the black window that divided the driver’s seat from the rest of the limo was lowered.  

“Y/N.. You’re locked in. ”  

“HOSEOK.”  

“Boss’ orders Y/N. ” He apologized with a little smile, making you sigh in despair. “He’s acting like this for your sake.”  

“It’s killing me so and he seems to not realize it.”  

~ ~

Taehyung and Namjoon were holding Yoongi while you were in your room.  

“DO YOU REALLY THINK YOU’LL WALK OUT THAT DOOR? RATHER I’LL KILL MYSELF! ”  

“Yoongi calm down.” The tone almost despaired of Namjoon managed to get even at your ears, while the tears continued to slip copious on your cheeks.  

You’ve never discussed that way, but you were coming to a limit that you couldn’t bear any more.  

“Y/N I’M TALKING TO YOU. COME HERE RIGHT NOW! ”  

“FUCK OFF YOONGI, OKAY? I’M FUCKING SICK OF YOU AND THIS WHOLE SITUATION. ”  You stand at the door, your eyes were red and swollen, while you hurl against him everything that he gave you in those weeks. Almost like they were justifications for his attitude. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND?? LEAVE ME ALONE, I WANT TO GET OUT. YOU’VE BECOME OBSESSIVE AND OPPRESSIVE. THAT’S NOT THE RELATIONSHIP I WANT. ”  

“I’M DOING THIS FOR YOUR OWN GOOD, FUCK. IS IT SO HARD TO ABIDE BY MY RULES? ”  

“THERE ARE YOUR MEN FOR THAT!” You shouted hurling yet another expensive bracelet, striking though Taehyung that remained silent since your strength was poor in those days due to lack of sleep.  

“YOU’RE MINE Y/N, THEN MY RULES APPLY EQUALLY TO YOU.” He yelled back, trying to wriggle from the grip of his men; “GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE AND I SWEAR THAT IT’S OVER. I WON’T BE HERE ANYMORE TO PROTECT YOU. ”  

His threat was another blow to your heart. You wanted it all but not that your relationship was over. In spite of that world, Yoongi was the man of your life. But he needed to reconsider his behavior and that was the only way to make him do that. Leave him.  

Without taking anything, everything was his despite you worked and you still had your apartment outside Seoul, you bypassed the three men and directed towards the door.  

Namjoon and Taehyung had left the grip on Yoongi, who was immobile at the center of the salon and was looking at you, shortness of breath and broken because of the screams.  

“You’re not protecting me Yoongi, you’re suffocating me.”  

Saying that you came out of your house, without looking back.  

~ ~

Your apartment was even smaller as than you remembered and was incredibly quiet.  

The only sounds that you could hear were your sobs and the television you had access both to keep you company.  

Despite the orders of Yoongi, Seokjin had followed you and now he was on the threshold of the door, while watched you in absolute silence.  

“You know that he’ll punish you, Seokjin?” Sobbing you said, lifting your eyes to him.  

“Never leave a girl in tears, you never know what could happen.” It was his answer, that brought you a little smile. You patted the spot next to you and he immediately refused nodded, remaining in his corner.  

“Seokjin I never understand your reasons.. Neither you nor Jimin. You’re so kind… ”   

“Because we’re gangsters?”  

You nodded and he was feeling almost at right to give you a long and detailed answer so he moved away from the wall but sat into the Chair next to the couch. You were pretty sure Yoongi had warned everyone to stay away from you, when you had started to date, and Seokjin’s behavior increasingly convinced you.  

“Our parents were gangster and so we ha–” He began to say when the doorbell made jump both and his hand immediately ran to the gun hidden under the leather jacket he was wearing. “Are you waiting for someone?” He asked, suspiciously.  

“Y/N; open… it’s me. ”  

On hearing the voice of his boss Seokjin relaxed slightly, although in his eyes you could read the fear of the sure punishment that he would have to undergo. He got up and went to the door, past the hallway that divided the living room from the entrance, but you stayed on the couch. Wrapped in blankets seeking warmth.  

“Wait in the car Seokjin.”  

“Yes, Sir.”  

“And.. thank you, for staying with her.”  

-At least he’s still able to show gratitude, what a miracle . - It was your thinking, while you lay your eyes on television without paying the slightest attention.  

“Y/N?”  

“Go away.”  

“No.” You wanted to beat him but his tone forced you to watch him.  

He was broken, you could see it into his eyes. He was broken as much as you were, but you held by up to go to hug him.  

He came towards you but sat on the coffee table, trying to make you pay attention to him. Your red eyes rested on him and even though he had not wept, it was clear that he was in pain.  

“Yoongi, what do you want?”  

“You… and you know it. ”  

“You said that if I exit from our home, it was over.”  

“I was scared.”  

In two years you’ve never heard those words come out of his mouth and was that to upset you more. He had put his pride aside other times during your quarrels, but he had never admitted to being frightened by something.  

Yoongi leaned towards you, pushing aside the blanket and took your hands on his own. You didn’t withdraw them but you were still unwilling to listen to him.  

“The day I met you, I also discovered something new.” He muttered holding his gaze onto your hands; “There was someone capable of making me feel fear. You intimidated me Y/N and I don’t think you have ever realized. ”  

“Bullshit. When we first met, you were an asshole. ”  

“Yes, I was, but inside I kept wondering how the hell you couldn’t be afraid of me or… from what I was. ”  

You were about to argue again, you’d never been the girl to remain silent or to comply with every rule, when he knelt down in front of you.  

“What are you doing?” You asked, finally succeeding in blocking the sobs.  

“Can you be quiet for a moment, Y/N?”  

His question was veiled of desperation so you froze completely from saying something, just nodded continuing to watch him without understanding what was going on.  

“I know that my world isn’t the best;” He began to say, most clutching your hands into his. “and a few weeks ago you had a very clear demonstration. When Jimin told me you were missing my world is literally collapsed. It took Seokjin and Jungkook to stop me because just knew what had happened I just wanted to kill him without thinking of the consequences. I had to get rid of this idea because you are the person most precious to me. ”  

“Yoo–sorry, go on.” You apologized immediately and bit the tip of your tongue to silence.  

“When you were in my arms, safe and sound, the fear hasn’t gone away. It was there to make me aware that I might lose you at any moment. I just couldn’t figure out how to protect yourself without becoming a despot and believe me, I’m sorry for that. ” He continued to talk while you were looking at him and the desire to hug him grew more and more; “I wanted to do a few weeks ago but.. In short, everything happened and I couldn’t find the right opportunity. ”  

He left your hands just to grab something from the gray jacket he was wearing and you saw a small box in his hands so you finally understood.  

Even his hands, firm as usual, trembled when he opened the small box showing you an engagement ring. It was white gold, your favorite and it was as simple as perfect. Above all, it was the ring that you two had seen together several months before and you’d want to buy because you were in love with at first sight.  

“Y/N… I know I’m asking a lot because you’re aware of the risks. But I’d be the happiest man in the world if you’ll say yes. ”  

“Y-Yoongi” Your voice trembled, while other tears itchy your eyes and began to slide on your face.  

“I want to spend my life with you, in all circumstances and at all times. Would you do me the honor of marrying me, Y/N? ” He asked, and his eyes were shining with excitement, while his hands began to tremble even more violently.

“Yes, Yes and Yes again, Min Yoongi.”

Ocean Soldier (Part 1 out of ?)

(A/N): I literally have no excuse for this other than I love mermaid Bucky so

Summary: (Y/N) happens to come across a rather friendly mermaid

Warnings: none?


Originally posted by little-messs

   The sun was just barely rising, the beach was quiet, no birds about squawking, no children running around carrying greasy hot dogs, no music of beach goers, just you, the sunset, and the ocean. With a pleasant sigh you settled down onto one of the docks surrounding the ocean. 

   You pick up a pencil and begin to gently sketch the purple and pink hues of the sky, your pencil gingerly shading along the half orb you had drawn for the sun. You bite your lip in concentration, looking from your paper up to the sky and back down to your paper again. Every so often you’d switch colors, truly wanting to capture the beauty of the sun and sky- 

   A gentle slap of the ocean is what grabs your attention. Sure, waves had been rolling in all day, sloping against the wooden posts if the docks, or against boats or sea cliffs but this one sounded different- sharper perhaps? It was much more clear and concise, more like a smack than anything else. The kind of sounds you got when a fish was squirming to get back in the water. You perk your head up and look around but alas there was nothing to see other than the vast expanse of salty water. That’s when you hear it again- that distinct smacking sound only now it was louder, and perhaps a bit faster than the last smack. It sounded panicked or frenzied if you thought about it.

    You rise from your spot on the dock, looking around the docks and seashore to see where if perhaps there was any animal who had gotten stuck in some Plastic or perhaps just needed some help getting back to sea. Your eyes search along the shore, between the boats, even against the cliffs before circling back around. Your eyes don’t particularly catch on anything but your ears certainly do, the smacking sound comes again and again and again, each slap more panicked than the last and it was loud, much too loud to be far away and that’s when you realized the boats closest to you were so large that you couldn’t see behind them or over them and perhaps whatever creature was stuck was hidden behind one of those.

    You run to the base of the dock and to where the boats attach to the wooden planks and your eyes begin to search, scanning up and down the rows until you spotted something. And that’s when you see it, a gleam of silver in the purple sun, the scales of some fish as it struggles in a fallen net. Shit, you think to yourself as you run towards that particular dock, already dropping to your knees to help wrangle the poor creature free but what you see is most definitely not what you were expecting. Rather than some fish staring back at you with beady eyes you were faced with a man with rather large, beautiful shining blue orbs. 

   You stare at the mans face for what feels like forever before you snap out if your reverie, blinking lazily to clear your thoughts.

    “Oh my god,” you whisper as you suddenly come to terms with the fact that a man had gotten himself tangled in this net. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” The man doesn’t respond, he simply stares back at you with these giant almost pleading puppy dog- esque eyes.  "What happened? How did you fall in?“ You try some more questions but yet again the man doesn’t answer. He doesn’t respond with any words but some strange vibrations rattles the air and it takes you a minute to realize that this man is the one making the noise, a sad, almost depressed little whimper in his throat. "Okay,” you whisper as you lift up chunks of the net attempting to figure out how he was tangled. “Lets get you out of this,” You lift up the net as you pull it towards you but it gets caught on something, something almost triangular but almost soft when you tugged hard enough. 

   The man whimpers, reaching up Through the net to grab at your hands, silently begging you to stop. You comply, immediately stopping the pulling. But rather than focusing on getting the poor Man free your eyes are suddenly glued to something else, his hands. They would have looked like any other ordinary pair of hands if it weren’t for the fact that they were webbed and smooth, giving them a glossy like appearance. His nails came to sharp little points, like tiny little daggers attached to his flesh. You stare at his hands, half tempted to even touch them but suddenly the man starts up with his cries again, that low, depressed throaty noise that had your heart aching.

    “Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you whisper, attempting to get back to work. You twist and pull at the net at all sorts of different angles, trying to free the man but each attempt only brought you more whimpers and more squirming. 

   “Shit,” You whisper as you stop struggling against the net, slumping down onto the dock in defeat. The man looks at you with concerned eyes, his sad noises starting back up again. “I- I don’t know how to help,” You mutter weakly, your tone nearly exhausted at this point. The man whimpers some more, his clawed hands reaching to attempt to tear the net away from his body. “Wait- stop,” You sigh as you reach down to grab his hands, trying to stop him from causing any more damage. “You’re gonna cut yourself-” The man becomes more panicked in his movements as you grip his wrist only now he was attempting to yank his grip from your yours rather than the nets. “I’m not gonna hurt you!” You attempt to calm him but it was no use, he was struggling and he was struggling hard. With one hard tug your knees slip on the dock, pulling you close to the waters edge. In fact, you’re just about to let go when the man gives one final tug, pulling you into the water with him. 

   Immediately water fills your lungs and you’re damn sure you scrape your feet along something sharp because the pain shooting into your legs most definitely isn’t normal. You bob back up to the surface, gasping for water as you hack up whatever you had swallowed all the while trying to wipe the water from your eyes. You cough a little as some water bubbles into your throat and out of your mouth, spraying back into the salty abyss. The man goes rigid, staring at you in pure fear and shock, his blue eyes widening in surprise.

   “What the hell?” You deadpan, glaring at him with an angry gaze. “You could have killed me!” The man recoils just a tiny bit, those small whimpers bubbling in his throat again. You sigh as you paddle the water about you gently, keeping you afloat long enough to converse with this mysterious man. “I’m sorry- I get you’re probably stressed being caught in here but I’m just trying to help,” You give him what you hope looks like a sympathetic smile. “Can I try to help with the net?” You ask, gesturing to the offending material. The man looks at you and back to the net and back to you again, biting his lip in thought. 

   You can’t help but notice the way his teeth came to a perfect little point, just like his nails, like tiny daggers buried into his body. Sharp nails, sharp teeth, he wasn’t speaking to you, what the hell was wrong with this guy? But before your anger could bubble again the man nods, squirming just a bit within the water. You give him a grateful little smile as you paddle towards him, stopping just shy of his torso. The closer you got the more you realized just how beautiful this man was, with baby blues and stunningly dark hair, not to mention a strikingly strong jaw line and amazing cheek bones. Even with his strange hands and teeth you couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit attracted to him. 

   “You’re not gonna try to drown me are ya?” You ask only half jokingly, the other half completely meaning the question. The man looks at you with those damn puppy eyes, shaking his head softly. He almost looked offended by the question if you thought about it but you didn’t have time to gawk at his face, you had to help free him from the net. With a determined albeit hesitant smile you reach out to gingerly work the net away from his chest, trying so desperately not to brush your fingers over his milky skin. 

   You gulp as you reach up, slowly but surely freeing his head from the net. It’s then, with your fingers grazing along his neck that you notice something, three small cuts along either side of his neck, pulsating as you moved your fingers along. You can’t help but stare at them, perhaps out of morbid curiosity, your eyes glued to the pink flesh of each cut. If you truly thought about it they actually looked like gills of some sort, just like the ones of fishes your father had brought home all those years ago. The man squirms, making some noise in the back of his throat under your intense gaze. You snap out of your trance again, electing to ignore the strange cuts until you freed the man from the net. 

   “Almost done,” You whisper as you let the top part of the net fall in front of him, all you had to do now was free his legs and- The man reaches down with his own hands- webbed might you add- and rips the remaining net to shreds, nearly ripping it from his legs like some animal. There’s another smack of water and suddenly the man disappears, completely gone after the water calms. You look around, twisting your body to get a good look around but alas you found nothing, not even a trace of the net he’d been confined in. Sure, you thought this was rather strange but you dismissed it as the chill of the freezing water began to set in. You give one last look to the ocean before climbing back onto the dock, shivering within your skin as you meander back to your art supplies. 

   Your clothes had been soiled by the water and you were freezing, the sun was far too high in the sky to sketch now and thus your morning had been slightly ruined. With an unhappy little sigh you bend down and pick up your supplies and shoes before making your way back towards land, shuffling as water pooled from your shorts. 

   You wince as pain spreads throughout your feet and something wet slops below you. You look down, grimacing when you noticed the thick red liquid oozing from the bottom of your feet. Guess you really had cut yourself on something. You mentally curse yourself as you limp towards land, most definitely not looking forward to going home and having to clean your wounds up. Grumbling angrily to yourself you waddle onto the sand, nearly yelling in pain as the sand seeps into your blood. God, is this what you got for saving someone’s life? Next time, you begged the universe to remind you to never help someone out again. You stomp as best as you could to your car, an angry cloud of hate brewing over your head. In fact you were in such a bad mood that you failed to realize a certain man staring at you from a few miles in the sea. 


    The next day you tried the shore again, this time picking a different dock to sit on and sketch from. This time you picked on closer to shore, just to be on the safer side and once you had gotten comfy you began to sketch, hoping to complete your picture today but when you had only been drawing for five minutes you were suddenly interrupted. That telltale smacking sound resounded around you and all of a sudden an almost familiar head of black hair bobs above the water, only the man’s eyes and nose visible. 

   “Have you come to drag me into the water again?” You ask, a hint of smugness to your tone as you look back down to your drawing, completely dismissing the man. The man shakes his head, a look of remorse crossing his only visible features. “Are you ever going to talk to me?” You ask, suddenly setting down you art to look at him. “I saved you, you nearly killed me, and I don’t even know your name,” The man looks up to you then to your pencil and sketch pad. You follow his gaze, your own landing upon the pencil and paper. “Do you want to write it down?” You ask, the man nods and suddenly he bobs from the water, resting his elbows upon the dock as you hand him a piece of paper and the pencil. He quickly jots down a few words before handing the paper back to you. 

   James Buchanan Barnes

   You smile at his choppy hand writing, it was cute if you really looked at it. “James?” You question, looking  at his name again. The man reaches for the pencil and the paper, quickly jotting down a few more words before handing them back to you. 

   I like Bucky better 

   You smile even more, nodding. “Bucky it is then. So uh Bucky-” You test the name on your tongue, allowing the taste of it to settle in. You liked it. “Any reason you’re using up all my paper?” You joke but the look of regret that crosses Bucky’s features has your chuckling coming to a stop. “I’m sorry, I uh- I didn’t mean to offend you or…” You trail off as Bucky grabs the pencil and paper again, proceeding to write out another message. 

   I’m sorry, I can stop using your paper if you’d like me to

  “No, no!” You quickly say, “I was just giving you shit, I really don’t mind,” Bucky looks at you for a moment before looking back at the pencil in his hand. 

    You really don’t?

   “I promise,” You smile at him, hoping the small gesture reassured him. Bucky smiles, a small quirk of his lip is all, but it was a start. “So…you really like the water huh?” You ask, chuckling awkwardly at your own question. Bucky apparently doesn’t seem to notice as he nods, looking down to the water almost fondly. “Even after the whole…” You wave your hand, coughing a bit as you allude to the incident the previous morning. “The whole net thing?” Bucky’s brow creases as he reaches for the paper, quickly jotting something down before handing it back to you. 

   I’m sorry I dragged you in, I was just scared is all

   You smile once more, his words alighting something within your heart. “It’s okay, nothing I couldn’t handle,” Bucky nods, his eyes wandering about the scenery almost lazily when suddenly his eyes land on your bandaged feet. You’d gotten home, cleaned the deep cuts out and went in to get stitches and now here you were again, sitting in the same place that gave you the cuts. Bucky pouts as he reaches out with a webbed finger, gingerly running his nail along the white bandage. 

   “Be careful,” You warn softly, not wishing to startle him. “It’s uh- it’s pretty sore,” Bucky pouts as he reaches out for the paper and pencil again, quickly jotting something down before shoving it towards you. 

   What happened?

   You bite your lip, contemplating whether or not you should tell him what exactly you had done. “Um, I just cut them up a bit, it was a complete accident,” You add, hoping he didn’t suspect you had cut your feet when you fell in. Bucky nods, reaching out again to run his clawed fingers along the bandage. 

   “Buck?” You ask hesitantly, biting your lip as you stare at his hands, his very strange, not at all human like hands. The man hums, a low purring like sound issuing from the back of his throat. “Can I uh- Can I ask a question?” Bucky nods as he pulls away a bit, resting his folded arm on the dock to keep part of his body up out of the water. "What’s with the hands?“ You gesture to his, specifically to the webbing. Bucky looks at his hands, a sudden blush rising to his pale skin. He quickly hides his hands under his arms, hiding his face in the flesh part of his elbow. 

    "I’m sorry,” to attempt to backtrack, already feeling horrible. “I didn’t mean to make you feel embarrassed, they’re just different from mine, see?” You hold a hand up, showcasing your short, trimmed nails and most definitely not webbed fingers. Bucky poked his head up a bit, looking at you with uncertain eyes. His piercing gaze then falls to your hand, the blue orbs scrutinizing each finger as he stares. He cocks his head to the side as he studies it, almost with a childlike curiosity.

    He gently shifts his arms, hesitantly pulling his hand out from hiding an slowly but surely raising it to yours. It even felt different, it was slimy, practically clammy against your own but it wasn’t unpleasant. He studies the two hands together, pushing his fingers against yours only to pull them back again, he looks at his webbing and then yours, studying his webbed hands almost distastefully. He then moves onto the nails, studying your small stubby ones and then his long, jagged ones. He hums softly, cocking his head to the other side as he places his fingers between yours, watching the way they only went so far due to his webbing. He was studying you like he’d never seen another human being before and at this point you were starting to think he hadn’t…

Sentiments Mean Nothing

A/N: Welllll, first Harry Styles fic because, honestly, I’ve been a hardcore fan of his and the boys since literally 2011 and his solo career has been hitting me right in the heart, my baby’s doing so well, I’m such a proud mother. So, have this. This is, by far, the longest shot I’ve written on this blog so let’s hope it doesn’t get too boring and you enjoy it as much as I did writing it x.

Warning(s): Swearing, very slight Daddy kink at the end, suggestive sexual nature throughout

Word count: 4,261

Pairing(s): Harry Styles x Reader / Harry Styles x OC (Original Character)


          You know, it wasn’t so much that she and Harry hated each other, per se, rather it was just that they had both developed a sort of, mutual dislike towards one another that, quite frankly, neither of them knew where it stemmed from. The pair had done nothing wrong to each other to deserve the hostility, but it was there and they both never really knew why. It was very much like an ancient feud between them.

Very Montague vs. Capulet-esque.

However, considering that they’d only had the pleasure of knowing of the other’s existence for about 2 years, the use of the word, ‘ancient’, seems invalid. Nevertheless, from the moment they first met, there seemed to have been an already established tension between the two personalities and needless to say, neither of them cared for the personality of the other.

See, he was a private person, an introvert, you could say; despite being a household name around the world, and preferred to keep himself to himself regarding personal matters but being quite the socialite when it came to public appearances.

She, on the other hand, she was… loud, in Harry’s books. An outgoing and excitable character that wore her heart on her sleeve within the comfort of her inner circle in contrast to the shy, non-talkative woman he had met through a mutual friend during a party.

With him being the one to instigate the conversations the whole time with a drink in his hand and a wide, fake-looking smile that looked practiced for situations like these, she found him pretentious and over-bearing. Talking to her as if she was a little girl who was too immature to talk to strangers.

And with her barely opening her mouth to answer his questions, nodding her head up and down or shaking it from side to side instead as an indicator of her feelings to avoid awkward stutters and embarrassing herself, all the while sipping from her glass and avoiding the glint in his eyes as he talked to her, he found her dismissive and arrogant. As if she didn’t have the time to converse with someone like him.

Despite their feelings towards each other, though, they had wound up spending extended amounts of time together over the course of the 2 years seeing as she had managed to pick up the job of his fashion stylist ever since the band went on a hiatus and he launched his solo career.

Although, the former cold-shoulders and silent treatments as they went on with their own tasks for the day started to dissolve. Their prejudices were still upheld, just shown in a slightly different manner as they became more accepting and comfortable towards their mutual distaste for one another.

During the first year, scornful glances and tight smiles were shared as they conversed briefly as to what Harry would be wearing for his next TV appearance. This was to be replaced during the second year with extra touchy-feely advances to tease and sarcastic remarks followed by cheesy pet-names to piss each other off were exchanged as she took Harry’s new measurements.

“You should buy me dinner ‘fore you get on your knees, sweetheart.” A dirty, but snide, comment was normal from Harry and she had honestly been expecting it from the moment she had started to measure his inseam.

“’S a good thing you pay for dinner then, i'n’t it? Tha’ way you can get on your knees for me.” She spoke in rebuttal before leaning back into a squatting position and standing back up. Her heels adding a good three inches to her height but still not nearly as tall as the 5'11" man in front of her.

She pivoted on her heel to place the measuring tape back in its rightful place before recording the numbers into her little journal of everything important she needed to know about Harry in order to fit him perfectly to his tailor-made, brand-name outfits.

She heard him step off the mini platform at the centre of the room and stalk behind her, his warmth radiating from his body to hers.

Why does he always stand so close, for fuck sake, it’s like he has no spacial awareness.” It was times like these where she thought to herself if there would be any chance in the world, where she could find a genuine bubble she could permanently place Harry in to avoid the close contact every minute, she would.

“Tell me again why we need t’ do these fitting things every six months? Seriously, ’m a grown man, my body doesn’t change tha’ much in tha’ time period.” Harry starting to fiddle with her pen she just used to write with as his minty breath fanned over the right side of her face.

“It does with your irregular fucking diet plans, Styles. Would it kill you t’ stick t’ one regime?” She spun around and leant against the grand table with her arms folded, looking up at the, now short-haired, tattooed man as he shifted to put his hands on the edge of the intricate furniture either side of her body.

“Mm, I think ’s jus’ 'cause you wanna try your hand at seducing me during these sessions.” His voice lowered down to a sultry, deep tone in an attempt to fluster his stylist but she, as always, stands her ground.

“If I wanted t’ seduce you, baby, I would’ve done it by now,” She leant up slightly, the endearing term fell from her mouth without hesitance while their breaths mixed between their parted lips as she continued. “And besides, size 10 feet? Not tha’ impressive.” She smirked subtly as she saw his face fall. He knew what she was indirectly referring to and, judging by the way he reacted, she knew she had hit a nerve in which she also gathered he would to try prove her wrong.

But before he could, however, she slipped out from underneath him and started walking towards the entrance to exit the room, her heels clicking against the expensive marble floors, not bothering to close the chrome door and yelling a, “make sure t’ lock the door when you leave!” to a rigid Harry who let out a sigh and rubbed his ring-clad hands over his face to let out some frustration towards the woman who was trapped in between him and the mahogany table not even thirty seconds ago, before slamming his hand on it and purposely leaving the door wide open in spite.


          “Change.”

Was the only word from the judgmental, but somehow always right, fashion stylist that Harry heard as he did a twirl in his new suit. Having quite the admiration towards the look, if he does say so himself, after inspecting it in the mirror.

“Whyy?” He drew out the word to emphasise his annoyance with the constant change of outfits. He might as well be a marathon runner, he’s breaking a sweat from changing his bloody clothes.

“Because, honey, the shirt doesn’t match the suit at all. That’s why I told yeh t’ wear black, not white, bu’ look who didn’t listen yet again.” She stood there behind him with her pen held in between her front teeth and one arm around her torso to keep her other elbow resting on top, catching his eye through the mirror.

He scans her choice of clothing today and, as per usual, she’s wearing the most stylish and trendy pieces that she matches so well with her heels. Harry’s never really understood how she so effortlessly throws together a look ready for the runway everyday when she comes into work but still manages to keep it light and casual as if it was the first thing she found in her closet earlier in the morning.

He trailed his eyes up her body, tanned and fit, may he add, to her subtly made up face which was glowing. He assumed it was from the highlighter she applied, because why else would he describe her as 'glowing’? That’s disgusting. He doesn’t like her. Not one bit.

“Have you quite finished staring at me, or do I need t’ get the camera for yeh so it’ll last longer?” She allowed the tease to be projected as she approached him, standing on the tiny platform, meaning their bodies were now pressed against each others’ closely before she shrugged off his suit jacket and started unbuttoning his dress shirt.

“'Ey, 'ey, 'ey. You normally need t’ get me drunk first before we can 'ave some fun, darlin’.” He smirked down at her, watching as she aggressively rolled her sparkling eyes at his comment. She continued to pull the shirt off of him and stepped down to grab the black shirt she had wanted him to wear in the first place.

As she turned around, she couldn’t help but notice a slight change in his physical appearance. His back muscles seemed more prominent. His thighs looked even more full than they already were when she last took a good look at them. His arms were bulkier. His torso now adorned with evident bumps of abdominal muscles. Even his cute, little bum seemed rounder and plumper which made her stifle a giggle.

“Awe, babe, have you been working out?” She had to bite her bottom lip to stop her bursting out into laughter when she caught him standing up a bit straighter, looking proud that his work was noticeable.

“Nice t’ know you were checking me out back there. Like wha’ yeh see, angel?” The pet-names were used as a kind of second nature to the pair of them now, but they were far from endearments. No, on the contrary, they were always laced with slight undertones of incivility and cheek. They were both familiar with them by now.

“Oh, most definitely. You been working out jus’ for me? I know ’m the only one you strip down for lately.” She referenced to the multiple outfit decisions they had to endure with every appearance he made in public, which people would be surprised as to how often that is, and she had to make sure that he was not seen repeating a look. God forbid he wore the same trousers twice.

She slowly made her way towards the, still shirtless, male stood in the middle of the high-ceiling-ed chamber, decorated with mirrors, as she ran her hands up and down his back before rubbing at his shoulders. Harry’s head fell back at the sensation of the soothing motions on his shoulders, he had been meaning to go to a masseuse to get the knots out of his joints for a while now. He closed his eyes and let out a content sigh, completely forgetting that she would be the last person on Earth he would want to touch him like this a few days ago but he allowed the action.

“Yeh know I was filming 'Dunkirk’, sweetie, don’t flatter yourself.” He retorted as he pulled her round to his front by her waist and leant his body against hers, his frame towering over her smaller one.

“’S a shame, really. And here I was, about t’ let you have your way with me only if you had jus’ admitted this is all for me.” She fake-pouted as she taunted him, something she has perfected over the years, with her hands resting against his naked chest. There was something about the way her clothed, soft chest was pressed into his bare, hard one that made the both of them lose control of the situation at hand temporarily as they focused on each other in that moment.

“Don’t tempt me, baby.” His voice switched to a low whisper, a threat almost.

“I don’t have to.” She replied with confidence, her eyes flickering to his raspberry-coloured lips that looked so inviting.

It was strange for the both of them, being in this position they’d never thought they’d see themselves in, but here they are. Through all the slight sexual tension covered up by distasteful remarks about each other over the years, clouded by the decision subconsciously made that they had a repulsion towards one another, they had failed to realise that attraction could’ve easily been confused with said repulsion, convincing themselves that it was a fact neither of them liked the other and that was final. Perhaps too afraid to confess and deal with the consequences of their feelings.

Just as they begun to come to terms with the compromising position they were in, and even more conflicting emotions fluttering around the space, the door was pushed open and two flailing bodies broke apart at lightning speed. Harry quickly finding his black shirt and fumbling with the buttons as the flustered stylist violently grabbed her journal and pretended to write in it whilst holding the pen upside down.

Not another word was spoken between the two of them as they complete the fitting session, everyone coming to a conclusion that the black shirt was indefinitely better than the white, much to Harry’s dismay, and their day was done.

The two parted and went their separate ways, however, the mental image of the other never left their minds for the rest of the week until they had to face the music at the next session.


          Harry was fucked.

Royally fucked.

So fucked, in fact, that he decided to wallow in self-pity at how fucked he was then he went out and fucked a random girl whilst thinking of fucking his attractive stylist he had now realised he had already fucked things over with.

If that doesn’t scream, “fucked”, I don’t know what does.

Though what he didn’t know, was that said stylist was also feeling the same way about him and was completely distraught over the idea that she might like Harry Styles. The same Harry that would make her want to rather die than converse with him for more than ten minutes. The same Harry that would tempt her to spit in his food whenever it got delivered during the fittings. The same Harry that would force her to socialise with large groups of people she didn’t know when he knew it made her uncomfortable.

But it was also the same Harry that, when he held her in his arms that other day, made her feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. And it was the same Harry with pink, soft lips that she wanted to kiss so desperately whilst, at the same time, tugging on his curly locks.

Though, more importantly, he was her Harry. He had always been her Harry to tease, to taunt, to tantalise, and to mess with until he’d get all riled up and sometimes push her against the wall (which she didn’t necessarily mind). But now, she wanted to describe him as being her Harry in a different way, and that scared the shit out of her.

She didn’t know what the fuck to do anymore, it’s like her life lost all purpose if she couldn’t make fun of the Cheshire-raised lad, and now all she wanted to do was tell him about her family and cuddle. She had actually begun to suspect she had developed some sort of illness and hoped it would go away like a common cold.

Although, she figured this was not the case the next time she saw him, in all his 5'11" glory, at a party very much like the one they first met at two years ago. Sipping on her alcoholic beverage, she observed him from far away as he mingled, as he always does so flawlessly, with people she had never seen before in her life. The very mere fact that he was in her presence not even ten feet away made her stomach tighten with new feelings she never thought she would associate with the musician and she hated herself for it.

Turning her body away from him towards the bar, she asked for another drink, slipping the rectangular note of currency towards the bartender as he fixed her up yet another glass. She knew she had most likely needed to have stopped drinking so heavily around the 'two hours ago’ mark, but right now, she really couldn’t care less, she just wanted to forget about Harry and if getting her stomach pumped for the first time means achieving her goal then fuck it.

Her motive was short-lived, however, since the charming man that was swimming her mind plopped himself on the stool next to her and gave her a sly smirk.

“Wha’ do we 'ave here?” He questioned, mainly to himself, as he observed the obviously intoxicated woman in front of him.

She rolled her eyes, hopping off the high stool, only to fall face first into Harry’s crotch which made him jerk back at the impact and let out a slight groan before cupping her cheeks and lifting her head up to inspect how far gone she really is.

“Heloooo, handsummm!” She tried her best to imitate a wolf-whistle seeing as she couldn’t actually whistle so instead made a sort of high-pitched, 'whi-woo’, as she trailed her index finger down the curve of his cheek and smiling drunkenly, “I misst yeww…” The slur in her words concerned him, not knowing how much she’s had to drink and she clearly could not stand up without support.

“’M gonna take yeh home, okay, baby girl? You’re alrigh’.” He scooped her up into his arms without any struggle and started to manoeuvre his way out of the clammy air of the bar to the nippy, fresh air of the London streets. He set her down on her feet for a second, leaning her against him to keep her balance, as he took off his jacket and wrapped it around her, knowing that even though his place was only a rough 20 minute walk from the party location, the chilly air would get to her more easily than it would him, she’d always been sensitive to the cold, and at this time of night, it certainly didn’t make the air more humid.

After a solid few minutes of walking to his abode, they finally reached the welcoming front door of his mansion, him fiddling in his pocket to find the right set of keys before twisting the lock and pushing the door open. A gust of warm, fruit-scented air hit the both of them as he stepped inside, laying her down on his extended white sofa in the living room before closing the door.

“Mmm, are yeh gon’ sex me up noww, Daddy?” Her sudden words making him choke on his own spit, as he cautiously walked towards the tiny figure resting on his comfortable seating area.

“No, no, ’m not, baby, not right now, yeh need t’ rest. I’ll get yeh some water and some Advil t’ take then we can go t’ bed, okay?” He spoke in a soft, calming tone that made her suddenly relaxed, only finding the strength in her to nod before he stroked her hair back from her face and made his way to the well-presented, expensive kitchen with more room than he needed.

As a matter of fact, all the rooms in this place were more than he needed, if he was honest, but he just didn’t know what else to use his money on.

Approaching the worn-out female sprawled across his sofa with a glass of fresh water and two pills in his other hand, he set down the glass on the side table whilst reaching his hand out to tilt her head up slightly and sit her up enough so she could swallow comfortably. He pried open her mouth by holding her jaw and placed the pills on the top of her tongue that had traces of alcohol left on it, bringing the liquid up to her lips and telling her to swallow gently. She obeyed and took the medication before slumping back onto the cushiony surface as he sighed, soaking in her beauty, even in this state of mind.

He watched as she closed her eyes and got comfortable, taking it as his cue to leave her to sleep, so kissed her forehead with care, and started to prepare to deal with whatever shit storm that was bound to happen, in the morning. Well, that was until he heard a small whine coming from her calling out for him.

“Harryy?… Stay wit’ meh? I wan’ cuddles.” She rubbed her eyes with her knuckles and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling gently at the sight. She was just so adorable, how could he say no?

“’M right here, poppet, ’m not going anywhere.” He answered her before carefully laying down beside the inebriated girl he had grown fond of these past couple of weeks and tangled their limbs together, letting her rest her head against his chest and wrap herself around him in an attempt to snuggle and use him as her own personal pillow and blanket.

As he listened to her breathing become regular and so quiet he had to strain to listen to it, he knew she had fallen asleep so pressed another tender kiss to the crown of her head and whispered to her in her unconscious state.

“I’d never leave you.”

And it was in that sweet moment that Harry now realised that she had a hold on him, and he intended on not letting go.


          Harsh rays of bright sunlight beamed through white, sheer curtains and hit her face as she stirred from her slumber. It was a Saturday morning and she was definitely not in the comfort of her own home so thought the worst and groaned inwardly in shame at herself for letting herself get so wasted. The first thing she did was just look down at her, what she expected to be, naked body, but instead found herself and the mystery man fully clothed. Confusion overtook her features and something she noticed right away was that her 'pillow’ was breathing and they’re not supposed to do that, right? Or was she still tripping from the after effects of the amounts of alcohol she consumed last night?

A wave of pain radiated throughout her head as she groaned, bringing a palm to her forehead in an unsuccessful attempt to soothe it slightly. Her movements unnoticeably woke up her 'pillow’ and startled her when the familiar deep, raspy, and, dare she say, sexy morning voice sounded from underneath her.

Oh, fuck me, not Harry. Anyone but Harry.” She thought to herself, although not truly meaning it since she found herself absentmindedly wanting the situation to have been more… wild.

“Well, good mornin’, sunshine.” He chuckled lightly at her facial expression following the pet-name he had chosen.

“Wha’ the fuck happened last night?” She asked half-heartedly.

Part of her didn’t really care what happened whilst the other part dreaded what his answer would be.

“You really don’t remember?” His voice was thick with an emotion she couldn’t quite pin-point but she did know that she felt guilty after hearing it, sensing that he was a little disappointed.

She merely shook her head and bit her lip, titling her head up to read his clouded eyes, they always gave away whatever he was thinking, she detected this within the first few months of knowing him.

“It doesn’t matter, now can you get off of me, you’re starting t’ feel like a deadweight. I honestly can’t feel my legs.” His whole demeanour changed in a split second and she was a little surprised but what did she expect, really? He’s just the same old Harry, though she’d be lying if she said it didn’t hurt a little.

“I’m not getting up 'til you tell me exactly wha’ happened, Harry.” She was adamant. She was always the type of person to get answers out of whoever she wanted, he was starting to wonder why she wasn’t a fucking lawyer or something.

“Listen, nothin’ happe-.” He was cut off by her swollen lips pressed against his.

To say he was shocked would be an understatement, he was bloody flat-lining on the inside but he quickly reciprocated the sudden, but passionate, kiss as he wrapped his arms around her waist with her hands coming up to caress his cheeks. Her legs ended up either side of his torso and she pulled away just before he had the chance to poke his tongue in her mouth, just to tease, like normal.

“D'yeh want something t’ happen?…” She questioned him inquisitively, not 100% sure that he shared the same feelings that she had pent up inside of her for, what felt like, decades.

He responded by flipping her so she laid on her back instead and hovered over her, leaning down to peck her lips once more before moving down to her neck and pressing open-mouthed kisses along the skin.

“All ’ve been thinkin’ 'bout for ages, darlin’. Let Daddy make yeh feel good.” He smirked into her skin once he felt her gasp quietly and visibly tense at his words.

“I called you, 'Daddy’, last night, didn’t I?” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment once she heard him chuckle and answer with a muffled, “you did”.

“And it definitely won’t be the last time.” He commented in a sultry voice before raising his head to make eye contact with her and leaning down to connect his lips with hers another time.


He made a promise, and he was damn hell-bent on making sure he kept it.

The Adventures of Spidey-Prom!

Seriously it’s probably not healthy how much I love Spiderman!Prompto! I didn’t know I needed it until @destiny-islanders drew the freaking CUTEST art for it. Please check it out. It’s good for the soul, trust me.

Anyway, enjoy this little bit inspired by their art! :D HOPE YOU ENJOY!


This is your costume?”

Ignis’ voice rang almost shrilly in the small apartment complex, but Prompto was far too busy checking out the newest wounds to his body to pay much attention to what the man was saying - instead, he puffed out his chest and propped his hands on his hips, admiring the new slim and toned muscles that stood out starkly in the bad lighting.

“It sure is!” Prompto replied boldly, eyes squinting as pride welled in his chest.

So what if those thugs had landed a few hits and made him look like a bruised potato - he’d totally won in the end.

“It’s a cotton sweatshirt.” Ignis replied flatly, his widened eyes were evidence of his complete horror of the aspect as he held up the tattered garment of clothing.

“It’s not just a sweatshirt,” The blond replied, a small pout forming on his face as spun on his feet to swipe away the bloody clothes. “It’s my identity. Every superhero needs one.” He explained readily, ruffling out the sweater to examine the newest tears and ruffles. “It’s a part of me now.” He dramatically hugged the cloth to his chest, a small smirk forming on the edge of his lips as he thought about his most recent venture -

…that…hadn’t gone…exactly as planned…

But he’d still won!

Prompto could visibly see Ignis roll his eyes from the side, the older man reaching up a hand to adjust his glasses in an exasperated show of exhaustion. “Prompto, do you believe the police simply roll out of bed in the morning and seek out the local gangs in a pair of joggers and a sweatshirt? Their attire consists of at least some sort of protection - a bullet proof vest -”

“Pah -” Prompto interrupted with a scoff, waving a hand in front of him. “Last time I checked, cops can’t climb up freaking walls and lift a car without breakin’ a sweat.” The blond propped his hands on his hips and shot Ignis a wink, which the man returned with a twitch of his eyebrow that Prompto had quickly come to realize was onset to a migraine. “‘Sides,” he waved a hand as he tossed back the article of clothing, “I need my costume to be flexible, ya know - gotta make way for these babies.”

Another eye twitch followed when Prompto flexed his arms in the white tank top he was now donning, though he let out a sharp hiss of pain as he grabbed at his newly bandaged arm.

“How formidable.” Ignis replied dully, shaking his head as he stared down at the sweater.

“So are ya gonna sew it or not? I’m probably gonna need it by tomorrow. Duty calls, ya know.”

Ignis’s hands flopped down in front of him as he stared deadpan at the younger man. “You’re not seriously going to do this again -” Ignis cut himself off as he slapped a hand to his forehead before scrubbing it dramatically down his face. “Prompto - you’ve barely a grasp on your abilities, why on earth you are so eager to get yourself killed!?”

“‘Cause a superhero’s work is never done! It’s like Cor said -” He cleared his throat and straightened up to mimic the man, “With great power comes great responsibility. And uh - I’ve got great power now - so might as well be greatly responsible with it and kick some bad guy butt!”

The sound of the buzzing cars outside the tiny apartment complex was the only sound audible as Ignis’s green eyes bore holes into Prompto’s own, and the young man couldn’t help but fidget nervously under the gaze.

After a moment a long, very Ignis-y sigh escaped from the older man’s mouth, the glasses on his face sliding down slightly as he once again stared at the sweater that might as well have been a piece of trash for all the way that he regarded it.

“I cannot believe you’ve worn this for the last three months and survived.” Green-eyes flashed up to Prompto as he held up the sweater. “You’re either brilliant and sufficient, or incredibly stupid and lucky. My bet is on the ladder.” Almond lips pressed together as he made his way over to the small dresser drawer that held various needles and thread.

“Orrr - just super awesome -”

“Or perhaps an utter moron -”

“Could a moron do this!?

“Do - WHA -”

Ignis’s voice was immediately cut off when Prompto skipped over to where he was and effortlessly braced a hand under his back and on his thighs, effortlessly pushing against them to  lift the man above his head with a loud laugh.

“Howd’ya like that - eh, Ignis!?”

PROMPTO! Put me down this INSTANT!” Was his friend’s immediate retort, the struggle that he was giving against him making Prompto’s arms quiver slightly - but not nearly enough to undo his hold.

Prompto barked out another laugh, keeping his arms locked even as Ignis squirmed above him. “Not such a moron now, huh?”

“Prompto Argentum, I swear to the Astrals if you do not set me down in two seconds -!”

“Alright, alright -”

Prompto heard Ignis yelp slightly when the younger man released his grip entirely, stepping back just enough so that he could catch Ignis in his waiting arms, dodging a swipe to his head before he set the man back down on his feet.

“You ever do such a thing again…” Ignis huffed, shooting him a vicious glare as he straightened out his ruffled sleeves.

The blond chuckled, stepping his way back over to the mirror, “So how’s about it - gonna help me? Wanna be my sidekick?” Prompto chippered as if he hadn’t just lifted the taller, more muscular man like a dumbbell. He rubbed his arm slightly as the slight strain had flared the ache in his bruised muscles.

A scoff followed the remark, “I’ll have to pass, thank you.” Ignis replied with a knowing glare in his direction, but, regardless, proceeded to pick up the needle and thread that was situated on the dresser.

“Whelp - position is open if you ever wanna apply!” Prompto replied with a happy smile, turning back to face the mirror.

He wish he could say that the muscles that he now admired in the mirror before him were from the months of hard work, and to be honest, he had been working hard to improve himself for a while now, but this type of improvement wasn’t exactly his doing.

Three months ago was when everything changed. Everything.

He’d been a scrawny kid three months ago - lacking confidence to approach anyone…especially a certain prince-like classmate of his that he’d admired since grade school. It’s not as though they hadn’t known about each other, and Prompto had managed to muster the courage to say hello and introduce himself on the first day of high school, but it was only recently that he’d felt that they’d made significant strides in their relationship when Prompto finally gained the confidence to make it a point to become his friend - and it was going very well.

Prompto was suddenly very glad that Ignis was focused on sewing the sweatshirt as a noticeable flush crawled up the blond’s neck and face - no wait - his entire body.

He’d decided to return the favor the gods had, for some reason, chosen to give him and fight evil in the world in repayment for this new life he was living - and well…yeah that part needed some work, but he was doing his best! Just tonight he’d managed to stop a robbery of a sweet older lady. The thugs hadn’t seen him coming at all - but, unfortunately, Prompto was still a bit shabby when it came to the fighting…so he’d taken home a few bruises and cuts as souvenirs, but he’d still beat their asses, called the cops, and saved the day.

Though, if it wasn’t for Ignis he probably would be in way worse shape - the man was pretty good at dressing his wounds. Ignis had found out about a week ago who he truly was…how the man was able to see through him he’d never know. Prompto still wasn’t sure he believed Ignis’s reasoning of “you’ve been behaving oddly. It seemed the most likely conclusion” - it was like he just knew. Maybe Ignis had his own spidey-sense - either way, despite that, tonight was the first night that Ignis had seen his outfit -

Psh. Who cared what he thought. His outfit was awesome. And…yeah no one would know that was him…right?

If he kept up like this, trained himself a bit - he was certain he’d become an awesome comic book superhero in no time - how hard could it be?

He shook his head, smiling to himself.

He couldn’t believe he was actually having these thoughts.

Three months ago…yeah - everything had changed.

~

Three months ago:

Prompto’s hands clasped behind his back as he stared at the large city around him, eyes squinting slightly at the morning sun that shone brightly down upon the research facility. The group of his high school classmates milled around the entrance to the building, waiting for instruction from their teacher, Mr. Weskham, to allow them in to begin the tour of the arachnid center they were about to visit.

To be honest, he didn’t really care too much about that, he was just hoping that a certain friend of his didn’t over sleep the field trip today.

He adjusted his glasses with his hand as he looked around, bouncing excitedly on his feet as the anticipation to get inside chewed at him.

He loved this stuff. He didn’t like spiders too much…but the tech inside was going to blow his mind - he could feel it. Maybe he’d even get a chance to browse one of their computers - maybe log away a few notes for the one that he was currently building himself.

Psh. Noct was right. He really was a technophile.

Ah, speak of the devil.

Prompto chuckled to himself as he briefly saw what must have been a knowing exchange between him and his father as they talked behind the windows of the flashy car, and a second later the door opened and out stepped Noct - also known as the Prince of Insomnia Inc. He saw the young man toss his dad a look over his shoulder as he straightened out his backpack, and it was with a roll of his eyes that he turned back to make his way up the stairs and away from the car.

Prompto was satisfied to see Noct’s face noticeably morph into something softer and - well - less annoyed as he trotted up the stairs. Prompto tossed him a happy wave which Noct returned with a nod.

“Heyaz!” The blond piped cheerily, his heart thudding in a familiar sense of excitement at the sight of the handsome face.

“Hey.” Noct responded with an easy smile, the typical mellowness of his tone somehow sending another spike of adrenaline through his heart.

“Ready to check out some creepy crawlies?” Prompto wiggled his fingers at the dark-haired teen’s face before he adjusted the camera strap around his neck, falling into a steady pace beside Noct as they walked up the stairs.

“I’m more ready to take a nap.”

“Dude, the lecture hasn’t even started yet.”

Noct let out a loud yawn, stretching his arms out on either side of him. “Exactly.”

Prompto chuckled, pausing slightly as he lifted the camera up to his face to snap a picture of the large building.

Field trip day was always interesting, especially when it involved checking out the nastiest things on earth - Prompto hated bugs, hated them. But he couldn’t deny that he was somewhat fascinated by them as well. Just because they were ugly didn’t mean they couldn’t be interesting, and besides, he was more interested in the technology they were bound to see in the research facility.

~

“Dude…this is the most advanced electron microscope on the Eastern Seaboard…” Prompto’s voice dripped with awe as he stared wide-eyed at the giant device in front of him, his hands fumbling with the camera to snap a few pictures.

“Wow.” Noct mumbled from beside him, clearly disinterested as they followed the voice of the woman ahead of them.

“For example, the delena spider, family sparassidae, has the ability to jump to catch its prey.”

“Eww…” Noct whispered, though his disgust clearly gave way to his curiosity as he leaned forward to observe the spider that the woman was talking about, head tilting as he noticed the little bug do exactly what she described as it jumped from one small twig to the next in its cage.

Prompto chuckled, though he stepped up next to Noct and lifted his camera to his face.

“For the school paper?” Prompto asked, eyes questioning as he looked up at the lecturer.

She offered him a side smile and nodded in permission.

He angled the camera so that he was able to zoom in on the little arachnid - but he grunted when he felt himself shoved from behind, the picture he was about to take snapped a lovely, blurry picture of the small hide instead of the spider.

Prompto furrowed his brows as he looked behind him, noting the obviously satisfied sneer of the blond that stood behind him.

Loqi.

“Leave him alone.” Noct snarled, glaring vehemently at the other blond.

“Or what?” One of Loqi’s lackeys lip curled in challenge.

“Or his father will fire your father.” Loqi sneered, shoving Noct slightly as he got into his face. “What’s daddy gonna do - sue me?”

Prompto almost jumped forward when he noticed Noct’s fist twitch at his side - but he was saved the trouble of holding him back when the dirty-blond was suddenly grabbed by the arm as Mr. Weskham pulled him back, shooting the both of them a harsh glare.

What is going on?” He hissed, glaring at all four of them. When no one answered, his voice darkened in seriousness. “The next person who talks will fail this course. Understood?”  

The four remained silent, but Prompto’s heart skipped a beat when Noct reached behind him and grabbed his arm, pulling him forward and away from the small scene.

“Tsch.” The dark-haired teen scoffed, releasing Prompto’s arm as they made their way around the shelves.

“Those guys are jerks.” Prompto mumbled from beside him, earning a very Noct-like smile in return.

He loved those smiles.

“Yeah.” He mumbled, taking a breath as he looked around them.

Prompto watched as Noct milled around in front of him, bending slightly to look at the small collection of spiders that were neatly stacked in the plastic caging. “Yuuuucckkk…”

Prompto chuckled at the noise, but lifted his camera regardless. “Hey -”

Noct turned to face him, eyebrow quirking when he noticed the camera.

“I need one with a student in it.” Violet-blue eyes sparkled when Noct smiled, making a show of adjusting his tie.

“Don’t make me look ugly.” Noct said, eyes half-lidded with a small smirk as he propped an arm up on the small shelf.

Prompto could feel the heat bloom in his cheeks as he chuckled smally, looking shyly down at his camera as he readied it. “Oh, that’s impossible.” He almost hoped Noct hadn’t heard him, but the smile that his friend gave was evidence enough that he had. “Alrighty…” The blond stepped back slightly, angling the camera by his blushing face so that he captured a good view of the microscope and various arachnids with Noct by the side.

Prompto chuckled as Noct smiled easily for the shot, and he clicked the camera several times to snap the picture. “Alriiigghhhttt -” The blond’s face lit up in another bright smile as Noct posed again, pointing to the various spiders next to him. He knew the pictures he was taking now weren’t necessarily of the spiders or microscope…

Heh. These ones didn’t necessarily have to be in the school paper…

“Argentum! Caelum!”

Prompto and Noct’s head whipped over to where Weshkham stood, arms folded against his chest. They could see the rest of the class a good distance ahead of them.

Noct shot Prompto a look before he reluctantly moved ahead, and Prompto rapidly scrambled to put the cover back on the lens before he made to follow -

“YEEOW!”

The liquid fire pain that shot through Prompto’s hand in that instant was enough to send him stumbling back as his hand whipped back from the sudden, intense pain that tore through it. His face contorted into shock as he grasped at his hand, looking down to see a red circle surrounding white, blotchy skin - with two small dots in the center. His heart beat rapidly as he looked down at the ground - just in time to see a tiny spot of an oddly colored spider scramble away underneath a nearby shelf.

“Shit…” He breathed, brows pinching as the pain circling the bite mark dulled to something hot and numb.

“Chop, chop, Prompto!”

The blond’s head whipped up as he saw Noct a small ways away from him, waving him over with a patient smile.

He waved his hand once, hoping that it would alleviate some of the pain, but Noct’s smile was drawing him forward, and he donned an easy smile as he skipped his way towards his friend -

Doing his very best to ignore the sickening feeling pooling in his stomach and the small pain that was trickling up his arm.

Little did he know that from that moment on, his destiny had completely changed.


Hope you guys enjoyed! I LOVED WRITING THIS! SO MUCH FUN - thank you again to @destiny-islanders for making such awesome art - really made my day. :D

Stay tuned for more adventures with Spidey-Prom! :D

Fear Potion

TW: Mentions of sexual assault, attempted sexual assault.

Dear diary,

It’s been six months to the day since I was raped.

I still haven’t gone back to school, I’m doing it all from home. It’s easier so I don’t have to face him. I sometimes miss my friends, but at least there’s Facebook. Not many of them talk to me anymore. There’s a few that do but half of those treat me like I’m… different. I haven’t changed.

That’s a lie. A lot has changed. But I’m still Alex.

And I’ve finally picked up going to the survivor support group.

The leader’s name is Krissa. She’s nice. I told them my story. For once I felt no judgment. Even my mom seems critical of my every move.

I’ll keep going back.

I don’t know if I can survive this still.

I survived today though. That counts for something, at least.

Keep reading

I’M GONNA DO A QUICK LIL INTRODUCTION HERE SISTERS! bc i’m lame and new!!! well i’m not new to the fandom etc but this is a fresh blog and this is the first time i’ve ever posted my writings anywhere for the general public (who happens to be searching for harry styles smut) can read it and I’M GEEKIN TBQH!! anyway, hi hello – i have a name, but im gonna let u guys call me T, even tho my name starts w H. H would get too confusing should this work out the way i’m hoping it will! so i’m T. and i like writing and harry styles and so i thought i, along with everyone i scream about H to in the wee hours of the night, would probably find it beneficial if i had blog where i could do that and ppl who actually want to read about how i want him to spit in my mouth! i’ve been a silent lurker of the tags for awhile now (shoutout to @stylesunchained, @permanentcross, @jawllines, @canistay-haz for the inspo behind me finally making this godforsaken blog) (please be my friend) (i’m very intimidated by all of u). so yeah i hope this works out, and if not then it was fun to share this little bit of a something with all of u! and if it does then i’ll likely post a pt 2 to this!  if u like it like/reblog if ur into the kinda thing ig :) also my praise kink is jsut as alive as harrys and my ask box is always open to discuss either one <3

“Pet,” he starts, and you smile, because after a long moment of just standing there and listening to each other breathe, you hear the familiar nickname and know you’ve got him back. “You are the meanest, most stubborn, woman ’ve ever met. Got a bloke full on puttin’ himself out there in front ‘f thousands, ‘nd you run away. Same bloke tells ya’ exactly what he means even after that, 'nd ya’ tell me I don’t mean it?” He murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear it. “Tell me how I can prove it to ya’,” he adds before you can get another word in, and he seems to already have a good idea, because his nose is brushing against yours already, but you quickly figure out that it’s going to take you asking for it before he does it, because Harry’s humble, but he has his pride, and you doubt he needs you fucking with it anymore tonight.

“’M going to start screaming if you don’t kiss me in the next three seconds,” you state, and he’s laughing as he presses his lips to yours, his hand cupping your cheek, and it’s gentle and soft and everything you ever imagined kissing Harry for the first time would be like.

And that’s how you die.

or

Harry’s your best friend and then you realize a lot of things, mostly that you’re an idiot

7k+, smut, overuse of the word ‘because’

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The Green-Eyed Doctor

(gif source)

Summary: Reader gets in a bad accident and is put under the care of Dr. Winchester during her stay…

Pairing: Doctor!Dean x reader

Word Count: 3,400ish

Warnings: language, car accident

A/N: I’m in love with doctor Dean now. Quote for this one was, “As long as I’m around, nothing bad is going to happen to you.”…


Keep reading

Ravish Me Red (Eggsy Unwin X Reader)

Fandom: Kingsman: The Secret Service
Pairing: Eggsy Unwin X Reader
Word Count: 3,798
Author's Note: Reader has been with the Kingsman for longer than Eggsy and Roxy, but she’s only like a year or two older than them. Takes place after the events of the movie!! Forgive me nothing makes sense asdfghjkl  >.<  We’re gonna pretend that some Kingsman live at headquarters, or they at least do for a while.
WARNING: Sexual themes!!


“Galahad, would you step up to the front, please?” You asked, patiently waiting for Eggsy as he climbed out of his seat and to the front of the room. You were in charge of handling the weapons for the Kingsman and you had just gotten a new shipment of weapons in, so it was your job to show them how to use them. You smiled reassuringly at him and grabbed him by the shoulders, positioning him so that everyone in the room could see him.


“This,” You said, holding up a tube of lipstick for the other Kingsman to see it. “Might just become your new best friend.” You popped open the lid, revealing a pointed cylinder of clear lipstick. You carefully applied some to your lips, before looking at the men and women in the room. “As you can see, it barely even has a shine, so anyone can use it without it being suspicious. Be careful to not lick your lips though, as long as you don’t ingest it, you’re fine.”


“And what does it do, exactly?” Lancelot asked curiously, and you smiled at the blonde haired girl.


“I am very glad that you asked!” You said excitedly and turned your attention back to Eggsy. You wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him into a kiss before he could react, well aware of the stunned silence of the other Kingsman. Eggsy’s tongue flicked across your lips, and you rolled your eyes as his mouth suddenly went limp and he fell into your arms. 

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Second Law of Thermodynamics

Once, Trevor didn’t think they could work.

They were gasoline set too close to an open flame, complex chemical mechanisms and low relative flash points Trevor could list off by heart once upon a time, but now knew it was just asking for trouble. For all intents and purposes, Trevor should have been terrified–it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that two combustible substances and no safety equipment between them spelled imminent disaster. Nothing but heartache and pain and a rift that could never be repaired.

Trevor could admit that if his life had gone a different way, if he’d continued down the path his parents had so meticulously laid out for him before he was even born, then perhaps he would have been petrified. But, no. This Trevor craved chaos, this Trevor lit kerosene on fire in the middle of his organic chemistry lab, and set homemade fireworks out in the park so he could watch, enraptured, as the trees became engulfed in flames. This Trevor set his house on fire as a graduation gift to himself, a final fuck you to his parents, drove out to Los Santos and never looked back. Found like-minded individuals with the same thirst for bloodshed and the same fire in their veins. Fell in love with the boy who was entropy personified–whose words were dipped in poison and grins were like daggers and bled ichor like only the gods themselves could. The untouchable Golden Boy.

Not so untouchable now.

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Caffeine Challenge #12-- done!

You can read mine below or here (X)! This one is yet another WIP lol. Good job everyone who participated, I can’t wait to read yours!


I’m on a bus before I know it, my sister’s voice still ringing in my ears.

“Mom’s dead. They’re calling in a new Sheriff.”

It’s been years since I’ve been home, but I know what that means. There’ll be blood in our county before the month’s up and, with Sis pregnant with her second, that’s something Abbey’s can’t afford.

So I break the promise I made when I was sixteen and I come home. Mom’s not around to care though, so it’s hardly like there was much of a promise to break anyway.

Judging by Orisa’s face, she doesn’t agree.

“I told you not to come,” she says when I jump off the bus. She’s got a toddler by the hand and her belly is swollen with another child. For all that, she’s still got a whole belt of stakes slung over her shoulder.

“You’re expecting trouble,” I say, chin jerking to the wood. “I had to.” I drop my bag at my feet and squat down with a friendly smile. “Ara? Is that you? But, it can’t be, you’re so big!”

The little girl, hair the color of sunlight, ducks behind her mother’s legs, amber eyes distrustful.

“I saw you when you were a baby,” I say to the little girl. She’s got her mama’s freckles, only a shade darker than her brown skin. She’s beautiful. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember me.”

“The locals certainly remember you,” Orisa tells me. “What are you thinking, Mable, coming back now?”

I exhale through my nose and stand. “I’m thinking that we’re in Sheriff-less territory and you’re the late lady’s daughter, Orisa. That’s what I’m thinking.”

“They like me here,” Orisa says, white teeth flashing. “You coming back is only going to stoke the fires, Mable. You know that.”

I keep my smile pleasant, aware of Ara’s eyes on me. “The fires are already stoked, Orisa. You should know that.”

Keep reading

Secrets And Lies - Two

Reid x Reader

Another three months had gone by since that night in the hotel room. It hadn’t gone down as Y/N had envisioned it, Spencer hadn’t broken it off with her and broken her heart.

Instead he’d gently coaxed out of her the words she’d been so scared of speaking, replying with his own declaration of love and adoration for her.

“So what happens now?” she’d asked.

“I’ll leave Georgia so we can be together, if that’s what you want.”

“Spencer, this isn’t just about what I want. This won’t work if it’s just about me. You have to want this to. Because it’s a big ask for you to hurt the person you’ve been with for so long.”

“But if I don’t hurt her, I’m hurting you. And myself. I want this, I want you. It’s wrong how this has happened, but it has. We have to accept that. We did something wrong and we have to make it right.”

So when he’d crept out of Y/N’s room that morning, it was with a promise that once Georgia arrived home that evening, he’d end things. And that he’d let Y/N know as soon as it was done.

So she waited, all night. For a phone call, a text message, a knock at her door that never came. And by the early hours of the morning she’d convinced herself that their conversation earlier had been a lie, and that Spencer just hadn’t been able to handle letting her down to her face. She berated herself for being so dumb, so stupid. For believing the words of a man that would cheat on his girlfriend. Y/N worked herself into a state and when it was time for work the next morning, she had one hell of a job trying to cover her puffy eyes and dry lips from all of the crying.

She was sure she’d managed it though until a moment on the teams jet. Y/N had gone to the bathroom and when she opened the door to leave, JJ was standing there waiting for her.

“Everything okay?” she asked, her concerned blue eyes searching Y/N’s face.

“Erm yeah. Everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been very quiet this morning and….. Well, you don’t seem yourself right now. If there’s anything you want to talk about, we can you know.”

She very nearly tugged Jennifer into the bathroom with her then, ready to break down and spill all of the details of hers and Spencer’s sordid affair. But she glanced down the aisle and saw Spencer look up from his book, catching her eye.

“Everything’s fine JJ. I just didn’t sleep well last night that’s all.”

The blonde profiler chose to let it go as Y/N moved passed her and back to her seat, avoiding Spencer’s gaze.

Later that night when the team were at their motel, Y/N heard a knock on her door as she was getting ready for bed. Thinking it was JJ coming to pry again, she opened the door to see it was Spencer and immediately tried to close it on him. She wasn’t in the mood for this. Not here, not now. He blocked her move and pushed into the room, closing the door behind him.

“I need to explain,” he said quietly as she looked every where in the room but at him.

“No you don’t, it’s fine. I get it.”

“Y/N……Look at me, please.”

When she didn’t, Spencer crossed the room to her and gently cupped her chin with his hand, turning her face to his.

“I couldn’t do it yesterday. I will do it, I swear it. But I can’t do it right now,” his hazel eyes were full of conflict and emotion and Y/N wanted to pull away from him but found that she wasn’t able to make herself.

“When Georgia came home yesterday, she was a mess. Her Dad called her whilst she was driving home, her Mom died.”

Oh.

“You see, as much I want to end things with her, I can’t hurt her anymore right now. I need to stay with her until the funeral is over at least, possibly a bit longer. I don’t want to stay with her though but I have to right now, please don’t think that this is an excuse. I can show you the messages from her that she’s sent me today if you don’t believe me.”

Did Y/N really want to be the person who asked for proof of something like that? No. Even though a tiny part inside her head was saying that it wasan excuse, she didn’t think it was. And as much as she wanted to be truly selfish here, she understood Spencer’s reasoning. Georgia was going to need him.

But for how long? Because she needed him too.

“You’re still…. You’re still going to end it. You still want us?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Spencer nodded and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, embracing her and she buried her head into his shirt.

“I still want us. More than you’ll ever know. I just…. I can’t give you a time frame here. I want to say a few weeks, but it could be a month or so. I know it’s a lot to ask but… can you give me that time? Will you wait? I’ll understand if you can’t, it’ll kill me inside but I understand.”

“Spencer, I’ll wait for you. I love you.”

“I love you too. So very much.”

So time passed by, Spencer and Y/N continued their affair behind Georgia’s back, leaving both of them feeling terrible after each brief encounter.

Because Georgia had taken some time off from her job to deal with her grief, that meant that Spencer and Y/N didn’t get much time with each other. A few snatched moments when they were in a motel when out on a case was really all they had, something neither of them liked doing because they were in such close proximity to the team. A phone call here and there at the weekend, text messages which Y/N knew Spencer would delete straight away.

She hated this but she didn’t realise that he hated it even more. She didn’t know the pain he was going through trying to be there for someone he no longer loved, trying to soothe them and to assure them that everything would be okay when he knew that he was going to make everything not okay as soon as he felt able to do it.

Which was another sore point between the two lovers.

Y/N wanted a date, a time limit on how long she’d have to wait. When the first month turn into two months and then stretched to the third, she because increasingly frustrated with Spencer and it showed when they were together. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep this a secret.

Every time her phone sang out Spencer’s ring tone, she answered eagerly, wanting it to be him telling her he’d done it. But it never was.

And whenever she pressed the subject, he’d tell that he loved her but that the time wasn’t right yet; that Georgia was still a mess.

And so she continued to wait, hating herself, hating him, and hating Georgia because she had the one thing that she wanted. Spencer.

Y/N knew the woman wasn’t having an easy time with life currently. She constantly stalked her Facebook and Twitter, and Georgia was regularly leaving messages on her Mom’s Facebook wall telling her how much she missed her.

Still, every time she saw her update it to an activity that included Spencer, she seethed onside.

“Watching the new Dr Who and eating a home cooked steak with the boy. Can always count on him to cheer me up.”

Nope. Nope nope NOPE.

Status’s like that made Y/N want to drive around to Spencer’s apartment to show Georgia just exactly what her boy had been up to. But she didn’t. Because she didn’t want to end this for Spencer. He had to do it.

Later on in the evening when Y/N would be lying in bed, Reid would normally text her. She knew that meant Georgia was asleep. He’d apologise, he knew she checked up on them. And then he’d assure that he loved HER, and that they’d be together soon.

Y/N just felt lost now. She was stuck in limbo. She’d told Spencer that she’d wait, but so far she couldn’t see that he was making any movement towards leaving his partner.
She understood his predicament, but it didn’t make it any easier on her. The last two times they’d managed to spend time with each other she’d ended up sobbing uncontrollably after he’d left.

He shouldn’t be leaving her, he should be staying the night, holding her tight. They should be waking up with each other, spending everyday together.

But they weren’t.

And he just kept asking her to wait.

She couldn’t confide in anyone about this or ask for their advice. Even JJ had stopped asking her if anything was wrong whenever she saw her puffy eyes. Y/N wondered if the team actually suspected anything. No one said anything to them and Y/N thought they did a pretty good job of hiding things when they were at work, but they did work with profilers after all.

They also had to have picked up the fact the Reid hardly mentioned Georgia now unless he was directly asked about her. And whenever he did, Y/N would bury her head in whatever paperwork she had in front of her, trying desperately not to listen.

When the three months stretched into another, Y/N came to a decision. She called him up and made him meet her at a small café they’d discovered together.

“You have three weeks Spencer. Til the end of this month. I can’t wait any longer than that. If you don’t tell her then…. ”

“What, you’ll tell her?” was secretly what Spencer was hoping she’d say. He was too much of a coward to do it himself really. He knew he was dragging this out for far longer than he should. He knew he was hurting Y/N terribly but he just…. Couldn’t. Every time he thought that he was ready to tell Georgia, something would happen. She’d find an old picture of her and her Mom or she’d be reminded of an old memory and she’d start to cry again. And Spencer couldn’t bring himself to add to those tears.

“No. I’m not telling her for you. You have to do that yourself. But if you don’t tell her, I’m gone. I’ve been speaking with Hotch, letting him know that I’m looking into transferring out. He’ll support my application to move. At the end of this month, we all have our two weeks mandatory leave. I’ve rented a cabin by a lake to spend some time either by myself to get over you, or to spend it with you. I’ll be leaving at nine am on the Friday morning. If you’re not waiting at my apartment by nine am, we’re done. And when I return, I’m handing in my transfer papers.”

With that, Y/N stood up and walked away, leaving Spencer sitting shell shocked at the table.

A/N: Lemme know what you think!

The problems with Miles Morales atm

 First article for hellyeahteensuperheroes so I’ll just say this: I am an avid Spider-man fan. Spider-man is the prototypical teen superhero after all so while Peter Parker is grown up selling his marriages to the devil, owning a tech company, and not having life insurance, we would be remiss if we didn’t acknowledge that Spider-man’s mythos started as the awkward teen in high school. In fact, that is how the majority of his media introduces him to the audience as, a kid.

So honestly, someone needs to fill in the void of teenaged Spider-man. And that person was…Peter Parker himself in the Ultimate Universe which was a modern take of Spider-man. This is probably the most acclaimed, adapted, and successful comic series in recent memory to the point, Marvel honestly considered making the Ultimate Universe the default Universe…Until Loeb took that idea and flooded it with the most notorious comic event that is comparable to One More Day.

So Ultimate Peter Parker was still the teenaged Peter Parker with a lot of great stories. However, with plans of Universe shifting derailed, Ultimate Peter Parker ,as great as he was. had one glaring problem: He was becoming 616 Peter Parker over again.

You can make Green Goblin the Hulk, change Eddie Brock to Peter’s brother figure, make the Shocker to a joke, and have Peter Parker and Kitty Pryde date; but at the end of the day, you are essentially retelling the same story of a character who still exists in another way in the present. What is the point of Ultimate Peter Parker if he was going to become 616 Peter Parker who still had comics(terrible comics, but I digress)?

Long story short, they killed Peter Parker and Miles Morales took his place.

Miles’ entire purpose is to resemble those old classic Spider-man stories of a young Spider-man from a perspective of a person who was different than Peter, physically and mentally. There are plenty of black people who relate to Spider-man, but Peter Parker as a character cannot relate to them as black people deal with some other shit than Peter who ranted at a group of protestors for sticking to the man and was one of those white anarcho-capitalists who champion Ayn Rand.

Brian Michael Bendis initially was doing so well with Miles Morales. The first 13 issues of Miles Morales’ Spider-man should be textbook examples of how to do an origin story. And then shit happened. Here is the shit.

1. Miles lacks Spider-man esque villains

What separates Spider-man villains and everybody else’s villains is that Spider-man’s villains tie into both his life as Spider-man and Peter Parker. Mr. Negative, Martin Li, ran a charity that Aunt May works at. Dr. Otto Octavius is the mirror of Spider-man and Peter Parker in that they are both brilliant and talented minds, but unlike Peter, Otto resented his peers and embraced his status as an outcast as Peter grew out of that phase. Dr. Connor is his mentor and professor in college. Green Goblin is the father of his best friend and sometimes is that best friend. Eddie Brock, Venom, is a jealous co-worker and competitor of Peter Parker who resented that Peter was able to take glorified selfies and gain success over him.

Even in the Ultimate Universe…well even more in the Ultimate Universe, Peter’s villains related to him as not just Spider-man, but also Peter Parker. It is what makes his rogues galley different than Batman or Superman.

And Miles is honest to god devoid of that. There are only two villains that exemplify Spider-man villains: Katie Bishop and Aaron Davis. The former was not so great, but had potential. The latter was probably one of the greatest villains in the decade, but was killed off. Miles has been around for 5 years and he has only developed two villains of his own that resemble Spider-man villains. The rest of his RG are essentially Peter’s who hate Miles because he is Peter’s legacy, and that is not okay.

This is a common problem for all new super heroes in this day and age. Because their respective universe have become so cluttered with the pasts, it is hard for them to gain a foothold of their own.

2. Crossover events

This shit fucking kills me about Miles Morales. I understand that for the sake of Miles’ longevity and prevalence, you need to give him as much exposure as possible. And that is okay. I am okay with Miles joining teams like the Young Ultimates, the revamped Avengers, or the Champions. However, I am not okay these huge crossover events becoming overbearing to his development as a character.

Ultimate Comics Spider-man 13-18(United We Stand/Divided We Fall)

Ultimate Comics Spider-man 29-31(Cataclysm)

Miles Morales: the Ultimate Spider-man 12(the end was rushed because of Secret Wars)

Spider-man 6-10(Civil War II)

Spider-man 11-14(Spider-Gwen crossover)

There are 50 Miles Morales book focused comics. 19 of them are universe expanding crossover events that he is heavily involved in. Luckily Secret Empire has strayed away from having Miles’ comics involved, but that is bad. Nearly half of this dudes stories get hijacked by these events that rarely if ever character build.

Miles’ constant criticism of his stories is that he does not have a lot of stories of his own to tell and part of that has to do with these distractions because that is what they are: distractions. If Civil War II did something for Miles’ character I would be okay with it, but for most of his part in that event, Miles was just going with the tide utterly confused as to what is happening. The only thing that the event established for Miles is that he fears that his anger might make him go too far, and you do not need that convoluted mess of Civil War II to reflect that.

Miles would have more enemies if Bendis stopped with the incessant events and focused on creating enemies that serve as foils to Miles Morales.

3. Too much focus on Peter Parker

Being that Miles is a legacy of Peter Parker, of course Peter is going to be mentioned and relevant to Peter. For all intents and purposes, Peter is awesome at just letting Miles be.

But Bendis….

Let me set the tone. Miles Morales and the Ultimate Universe survived Cataclysm and Galactus. The Ultimate Universe is revamped to three comics series. You have a mostly female and devoid of white men team(the All-New Ultimates). You have another female led team that explored mythos of the Ultimate Universe(Ultimate FF). And you have Miles Morales as the face of the entire universe and it is touted for once as Miles taking ownership of being Spider-man. It was about him. This was a fresh start with new stories. There is a mystery of Miles’ girlfriend. There was a thing with Roxxon. Miles’ dad was missing after he found out about Miles being Spider-man. There were so many stories and so much possibility. 

First issue


Mother FUCK!

This ran for 6 issues of Miles inaugural re-debut as the Spider-man. The first 6 issues of Miles revamp was about Peter Parker. Miles was playing secondary to Peter Parker and we were rehashing the same story development as Spider-men. Miles has already received the approval of a Peter Parker. A more experienced Peter Parker at that. So there was no character development for Miles to be had here. 

This story from the looks of it was to gave Ultimate Peter Parker and Mary Jane closure…which ruins the point because Peter got closure in his death and his funeral. Mary Jane may have needed some closure, but to have it wasted on a resurrection was bullshit when she could have done something to ensure Miles did not meet the same fate or run into the same obstacles. Y’know, actually be a supporting character and taking responsibility of him? But we really just had to appease those Peter Parker fans who have so little exposure to Peter(sarcasm).

The first six issues of Miles Morales: Ultimate Spider-man were about Peter Parker. Not Miles Morales.

So if we are keeping count, that is 25 issues that had fuck all to do with Miles Morales. Half of Miles main comics are not about him as a character. And that is bad. Half of those comics could have been used to develop him or his villains.

4. The switch from the Ultimate Universe to the 616

One day I am going to do the differences between Miles Morales and Peter Parker, but right now, I will summarize. To Peter Parker, Spider-man was an escapist adventure. He enjoys being Spider-man more than his normal. It allows him to be a snarky and fun character and it allows the audience to get in on the act as well because they too want to use Spider-man as means of escapism.

Miles, however, is completely different.

Miles is the classical anti-hero. Being a superhero or more specifically, being Spider-man causes more problems for Miles than it solves them. Miles, initially was not thrilled that he had Spider-powers.

It’s a burden to him. He is only Spider-man because in the Ultimate Universe, Peter Parker died. Also in the Ultimate Universe, there are very few superheroes running around protecting people. 

Being Spider-man only caused Miles problems. His genial relationship with his Uncle became toxic. His relationship with his father could be summed up as if Jonah Jameson was Peter Parker’s dad and at every dinner, daddy would talk shit about what you as Spider-man did unaware that he was talking shit about his own son. His mom was killed in a Spider-man related battle which involved him.

Miles is Spider-man because no one else, but him, can be. It is metaphorically thrusted on him. He doesn’t want superpowers. He wanted a normal life.He wanted to go to school and have fun. Unlike Peter, Miles is not picked on at school and his not a social outcast. It helps that he is at a charter school with a bunch of nerds, but the point is that his normal life was satisfying to him and as soon as being Spider-man becomes too much for him, he ditches the outfit and tries his damnest to live a normal life.

Him being in the 616 Universe ruins the point of him. It derails his character in that in a world were Peter Parker not only still lives, but there are also several superheroes who are more than happy to fill in a role and have the purpose to do so, Miles has no motivation to be Spider-man anymore. And it is not like being Spider-man has becomes less burdensome for him with the switch. Miles’ main reason of being Spider-man has vanished.

5. Poor Social Commentary

I have so many problems with these panels.

First, this girl specifically mentions the possibility that Miles may be Latino. She says that he is brown so the dialogue is disjointed and Miles problem with her becomes a non-issue and he is annoyed for no reason.

Second, he has a problem being identified as the Black Spider-man. But you are black and Spider-man so you are both. It sounds like he is ashamed of being black because he acts defensive towards being identified as black as if a person is supposed to immediately recognize that looking at him.

Third, Hispanic is not the proper identifier. Latino is. No self-respecting LatinX would call themselves Hispanic unless they are from Spain. Miles should know this and every time he refers to himself as Hispanic, it questions if he is aware of those roots that he will gladly use in defense if someone calls him black.

Fourth, how in the fuck does Miles not recognize the importance of a black Spider-man? A kid in New York in times where their is heightened racial tension does not understand the big deal of being a black superhero. “Why does it matter?” he asks when black people are being shot up by the police because they are a perceived threat. Black people are being incriminated and are being massively incarcerated and targeted. The fact that Miles does not get this yet says to Luke Cage in person that he(Luke Cage) is the only super hero that his father respects. Gee, I wonder why, Miles?

Fifth, you do not need this faux post-racial commentary to make Miles sound profound. More importantly, he sounds like a white person who has no clue about racism. The fact of the matter is that the majority of Miles Morales’ fandom loves him because he is the black Spider-man and shaming them for doing so is the wrong move and turns people off. The girl literally sounds like a stereotypical SJW r what people perceive SJWs are like and Marvel already has a bad reputation of attacking those people(Nick Spencer) while at the same time trying to appeal to them over DC.

But there is more cringey Social Commentary in the hands of a writer who does not quite get it.

The oppression Olympics debate! First off, intersectionality is not a matter of whom is more oppressed than whom. It is to understand that people are oppressed in several ways. So Ganke pointing out that Miles is skinny and black while Ganke is fat and Asian completely misses the point of intersectionality because he is trying to say that he is more oppressed than Miles while erasing the fact the Miles faces racial injustice that can get him killed. And I am not erasing being fat and Asian, and I am just pointing out that there are better ways to have this discourse without turning it into a haphazard “Who suffers the most” dick measuring contest.

Also, Miles calls himself Hispanic as if his mom does not look like Beyonce and it counts as half.

There is a lot holding back Miles from developing into his own Spider-man. Hopefully in the future, this gets rectified because I want Miles to succeed.

@ubernegro

Sunny Days-chapter 8

Sunny Days Masterlist

Summary- Negan and Sunny deal with the effects of their argument. Who will bend or break?

Warnings- Angst, Smut, Edging, Daddy Kink, Squirting, Language

Author’s Note- Sorry this took so long to get out. Flu, bronchitis, and plot bunny in shape of Max from The Resident took over my life. However, since you guys waited so long, I combined what would have been 3 short chapters into this much longer one. Also, I planned this story out before the episode with sad Amber aired. So my Amber is a bitch. And I’m gonna screw around with the time line to fit my story. It shouldn’t make much difference since it’s hard to tell how much time passes between episodes sometimes.

Word Count- 5.7k+

Tag List- @aalexandra2712 @adreamemporium @ali-pennell @alyisdead @andrealind24 @artemisxeros @ashzombie13 @blondesouthsquad @breemacen24 @negansqween @coolgh0st @daintyunicorn @ericuhlohrain @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @flissworld @ladylorelitany @loliftingg @melodicdolls @memphisgirl1977 @miiraal @narcoleptic-moose-winchester @natjm13 @negans-dirty-girl @negansbby @negansxlucille @negans-network @ninjacuddlepile @peachtickler69 @rune-skyjumper @sassyfiedscribbles @shinydixon @starshinesupergirl @superanonymousreader @suzumebailey @thatwriterizzy @thealphaofmultifandoms @vendekk @vivalafuckingpluto @xomissi

 Lots of tags not working. Sorry. I will try to message y’all individually.

Reblog and leave a comment if you like it! xoxo


Originally posted by grungedaddykinks

Negan sat in his office staring at the new bedroom door. He swirled the scotch, the ice gently clinked against the glass, and brought it to his lips. He swallowed the last mouthful in one large gulp feeling warmth spreading down his throat. He had everything ready. All he was missing was Sunny.

She’s too fucking stubborn for her own good. She has no fucking clue how damn vulnerable she is out there on her own. She’ll come the fuck around. She has to. I’ll fucking make her. God fucking damnit.

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anonymous asked:

Imagine Tony is neighbors to Steve and Bucky and Tony's cat always ends up in their apartment bc she likes to nap in their dog. Sometimes Steve and Bucky's dog sneaks into Tony's apartment bc he misses the cat and Tony's sweatshirts are so comfy

I am so so so so sorry for the long wait! School was crazy, work was crazy, family was crazy. bla bla bla bla. But now the only thing that I have to do is focus on the exams. And after that I have a summer break of nearly four months, so enough time to write, before I start university. For now, I’am aiming to publish one story a week (I am still looking for a suitable day). Anyways. I present you fluff!

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It was really too cute. Far too cute. Sensory overload. So cute it should be illegal.

“So… I am most definitely not waking them up,” Steve said, while softly cooing at the two animals. Once again, Tony was in the new neighbors’ apartment looking at this little traitor of a cat, that was cuddling Steve’s and Bucky’s Labrador. The white fur of the Maine Coon could be seen only if you looked from the top of the two animals, so  engulfed was it in the dog, which had rolled itself in a ball as if to protect the cat. This was the sixteenth time  in a month and half that the cat snuck out of the apartment just to go and have alone time with the neighbors’ dog. 

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