if you squint and look sideways

I’ve been seeing discussions on my dash about the use of the words “pussy” and even the color of the pink hats used in the women’s march, and I’d like to submit a couple of ideas to you for consideration.

Let me preface by saying: I am not in favor of signage/words that prioritize one set of sexual organs over another because that gets into weird places of associating genitalia with gender, etc.

However, signs that say things like “Pussy Grabs Back” - please consider that this is in context and direct opposition to a man who bragged about assaulting women with vaginas by saying “I grab ‘em by the pussy.” This is reflecting his language back in the form of protest, and in this case, I think is a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

Also please consider that vaginas are very, very often targets and sites of violence, even when they belong to men. Vaginas are so derided, as a concept and as a body part, that most of the anti-trans-woman rhetoric I’ve heard from cis men in my life has centered around the fact that they would rather die before they’d give up their penis for a vagina. (Nevermind their complete lack of comprehension about the actual experience of being trans and how body parts do or don’t contribute to that.) I’m saying that this is their actual viewpoint: vaginas are terrible and anyone who would want to have one is weak and less-than. So signs that laud, praise, and glorify vaginas are still an act of rebellion. (Of course I am also saying please do not make the mistake of vagina=woman. Having a vagina is a completely separate issue from your actual gender.) But in this context, pro-vagina is still an act of rebellion against a patriarchy that views them as dirty and worthy of scorn and violence.

Also, as far as pink hats go: I would like you to consider that, completely separate from the reference to “pink bits” – even taking into account cat ears and the name “pussy hat” – pink is considered a feminine color and as such is subject to the same derision that a patriarchy places on women.

idk if you’ve ever been to the American South, especially, but say you’re standing outside a Target or a Wal-Mart in Virginia or the Carolinas or Georgia or Alabama. Say it’s pouring rain. Say it’s hailing. And there’s a dude standing a couple of feet away from you without an umbrella, squinting under the brim of his sportsball team cap. Say you have an extra umbrella and you are a generous person and you go to offer it to this man. But say the umbrella is pink.

Let me tell you a thing: There is a roughly 80% chance that the man is going to look at the pink umbrella, snort, take a step sideways away from you, and say, “Not that thing.” He won’t touch it. He probably won’t even be polite about refusing it. In his mind, you’ve just offended him by offering him something that is pink – the color of femininity. You’ve just implied that he’s not masculine. You’ve just implied that he’s weak, or “gay”, or whatever.

I’m not exaggerating. I have lived in the American South all my life. I’ve seen men stand in hailstorms rather than touch something pink. I’ve seen men go naked rather than wear something pink. I’ve heard them complain about having to TOUCH something pink.

So yeah, there’s a context to the color beyond just “pink parts.” The context is that anything the patriarchy PERCEIVES as feminine – whether it actually is or not – is a fair target for violence in their minds. And that is worth protesting.

But even with this context in mind, I want to put out there one more thought: Protect trans women. Protect intersex women. Protect women of color. Protect disabled women. And if any of these people feel uncomfortable or excluded because of the way that these items are often associated with cis white women, respect that, and don’t force them to interface with it.

Thank you.

Thievery | Peter Parker x Reader

requested: no

summary: reader is peter’s best friend and has just realized her true feelings. after the school day she is walking home and stops at Delmar’s to get a sandwich where a theif comes in and holds everyone at gunpoint. reader is well trained in fighting and takes him on, unaware that he has powers. spider-man arrives on the scene and things get interesting…

word count: 2252 (sorry it’s so long, got carried away)

a/n: this is my first peter parker one and i’m nervous. also idk how i feel about this but i would be up to writing a part 2..? PLEASE give me feedback, that gives me life. anyway hope you enjoy

part 2  part 3


Tucking a strand of Y/H/C hair behind your ear, you steeled yourself to brave the horrors that were the halls of Midtown Science High School. You sucked in a breath and dove in, immediately being shoved from side to side by teenagers preoccupied by their phones, their friends, or their crushes.

“Hey! Hey, Y/N!” You heard your friend Ned shouting for you and pivoted to face him, nearly causing yourself to collide with a huge dude with a mohawk. Luckily, Ned managed to grab your arm and yank you over to him.

Gasping a sigh of relief you thanked him, “Ned, you just saved my life.” To which he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah Y/N, he’s a real spider-man, better actually.” You heard the sarcasm dripping from his mouth before you saw your best friend in the world: Peter Parker. He came into view with his slightly-disheveled (but in a good way) hair. You averted your eyes immediately, feeling that tight sensation in the pit of your stomach. Unfortunately, your inability to meet his eyes did not go unnoticed and Peter’s face melted into worry, “Hey, Y/N? You ok?” His voice was ridden with worry but you just brushed it off.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, just thought I might’ve dropped something.” You mumbled your excuse, gesturing to your overflowing hands with a short nod and flashed him an empty smile. He cocked his eyebrows at you, clearly knowing something was up, but let it go.

“Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight and have a Star Wars marathon with us?” Ned asked as he finished locking away his supplies in his locker and slamming it shut with an ear piercing metal bang. You considered his offer, on one hand you loved hanging out with them, you guys always laughed a lot and a new inside joke came out of every single one of these sleepovers. On the other hand, just this week you noticed something that once realized, could not be shoved to the side; you were falling in love with Peter, fast.

Recognizing your hesitation Ned used his persuasive sing-song voice, “There will be Doritosssss…you’re favorite.” He poked you in the side and you threw your head back and giggled. You glanced sideways at Ned, taking in his goofy grin, raised eyebrows and squinted eyes awaiting your response, and then you couldn’t wait any longer and you met Peter’s gaze. He was looking at you with a small smile and his eyes sparkled light brown with sincere affection. Dammit.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun, who’s house?” You gave in, knowing it was in your best interest both to have fun and because they would fight you on it until you said yes anyway. Both the teenage boys’ faces lit up with excitement.

“5:30!! My house.” Peter exclaimed, clapping his hands together in victory. You snorted a bit and nodded.

“I’ll be there. Alright, I have to run home to clean my room and I want to stop at Delmar’s on the way. Peter you wanna come with? It’s right near your apartment.” You let it slip before you could think better of it. Peter got the face that said “I really want to come but…” and you knew exactly what was coming.

“I have the Stark internship…” You said it in unison with him, earning a small smirk and a sigh, “I’m sorry but I really do need to just finish… some, stuff.. before we all hang out.” You nodded and called a goodbye, turning just too early to see the sorrowful look on his face. He wanted to be with you more than you knew…

“Hey Mr. Delmar!” You called as you entered the bodega. The large man behind the counter smiled at you as you made your way to the fat cat on the counter.

“Hola Y/N. You want a number 3? No pickles?” He asks you, you nod in approval.

“Oh you know me so well,” You shot him a wide smile and then began to scan the aisles to pass the time. You strolled past a mother with her little boy and noted that he was grasping a spider-man toy in his hand and tugging at his mother’s arm.

“Mommy, Mommy, wook, I make Pider-man go flying to help.” His baby lisp only made the entire scene that much cuter, his mother looked down and smiled at him, “Yes baby, Spider-man will always protect you.” You felt your heart leap. You always felt this weird connection to the idea of Spider-man, more-so than any other hero.

“So, Y/N, where is your boyfriend?” You hear Mr. Delmar call as you round the aisle closest to him. He rests an elbow on the counter and raises a single eyebrow in an eerie knowing way. You narrow your eyes at him and prepare to give him the “He’s not my boyfriend speech” that you give him at least twice a week. But you stopped short when his eyes went wide and he raised his hands in submission. He cocked his head at you as an attempt to tell you to get away.

“Put your hands in the air,” You heard a rough voice and then felt a jab in your lower back… a gun. You did as he said and felt him pin your hands together and place them where the gun was, which was now by your head. You felt your heartbeat in your neck and everything seemed to slow down. You saw the woman pull her son behind the furthest aisle, she locked eyes with you and you felt her fear echoed in your face.

“Give me the money, NOW” He shouted at Mr. Delmar, who looked at you with the concern of a parent and did as he said, pulling open the cash register. Pulling yourself out of the haze of fear you forced yourself to remember your training. Closing your eyes tight you drew in a serene breath, One, Two, Three.

Throwing your elbow back, you stomped on his booted foot. He drew away from you with a wheeze of surprise and pain. You threw a hard right hook and distracted him as Mr. Delmar reached for the phone and dialed 911. You actually started to have the upper hand as you kicked out his right foot and he fell to his knee, but then something turned the tables, his hands began to steam and his ski mask caught fire… shit

Peter always followed you home before he started searching for crime, only leaving you if he sees a problem or hears sirens. He was sitting up on top of the building behind the ATM across the street from Delmar’s swinging his legs back and forth and waiting for you to return to view with a sandwich in hand. He pulled his phone out of the side pocket of his backpack and scrolled through to see if he had any new texts from Ned. You were taking longer than usual, he stood up on the edge of the building, careful not to be seen, since he was wearing the Spider-man suit, and searched for you.

Peter knew something was up, he couldn’t keep hiding the secret from you, and eventually Ned would probably let it slip. He thought back to earlier this afternoon when you wouldn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t want to lose you but he didn’t want to put you in jeopardy with you knowing.

“Karen, can I hear what’s happening in there?” Peter asked his suit lady.

“Engaging enhanced reconnaissance mode” He then heard a commotion and could see the heat signatures of two people fighting. Suddenly, however, one of the figures had their hands and head light up red-hot. Shit, Y/N was in there. Peter shot up and jumped from his perch onto the ATM building and then swung down to Delmar’s, blasting through the door. Nobody would hurt Y/N…

You pulled away from the burning man and backed up as far as you could. But you remembered the frightened woman and decided to try and lead him away from them, “Come on, I’m just a teenager why don’t you come get me?” That was the wrong thing to say, he hurled a fireball at your head. You narrowly avoided it but fell to the floor, tripping over a fallen newspaper stack. Your heart caught in your throat as he moved to stand over you, pulling off his mask to reveal a devilish smirk.

“What are you going to do now, babyface?” He growled at you, showcasing his cracked and missing teeth. You cringed away just kind of moving backwards an inch.

“She doesn’t have to do anything, because I will.” Your head whipped up to find the source of the familiar voice. What you found you couldn’t believe… It was him! Spider-man. He shot a web into the middle of the mans chest and used it to pull him forward, he kicked the man in the chest and then looked over at you. “Get everyone out of here! Get to safety.” You looked up at him mesmerized, taking a moment to fully absorb his words and then nodded profusely. You pulled yourself up, muscles aching from the combat you just did and scurried over to huddled mother. 

“Please, you have to get out of her.” The woman nodded and gripped her son tightly, sprinting for the door as he kept pointing at the real version of the small action figure in his hand. You nodded at Mr. Delmar and he began to get employees out. You slowly leaned around one of the aisles to see where they were. Spider-man was locked in combat with him, continuously shooting webs that would melt over his hands so that the punches didn’t burn. You saw that no one else was left in the store and looked around for an exit route. You were blocked in, they had moved over by the doorway. You wanted to help the hero but didn’t know how. Then it occurred to you.

You leaned close to the ground and made your way to the ice cream refrigerator on the wall on the wall. Desperately, you flung the door open and began ripping ice cream off the walls, until there was enough space for you to be able to fit in it. You stood in front of it and then prepared yourself for bravery you were pretty sure you didn’t actually have.

“Hey! Hot-Head! Come at me, I bet I can still take you.” He turned to you and smiled. You turned around fast to make sure the open fridge was right behind you.

“What-what’re you doing!?” Spider-man shouted, but you shook your head, letting the man get closer. His hands caught fire and he pushed you until you were up against the freezer and you caught eyes with Spider-man. You had about 2 seconds to get him to understand. You gestured your head back, ducked down and pushed yourself on the floor between the mans legs and shouted, “WEB HIM.”

In a second a stream of webs shot over your head and sealed the man in the freezer, door still open (you weren’t trying to kill him). Spider-man walked forward and webbed him over and over again. And you knew your theory worked, the fridge counteracted his heat and he could not melt the webs.

When he was done webbing the thief, Spider-man turned to you and cocked his head in a weirdly familiar way, “Thank you, that was really brave..” He seemed confused but also satisfied and sort of… proud?

“Yeah- uh, no of course.” You replied nervously, noticing that he seemed to have made his voice lower since the last time he talked. You took in his muscles and felt a blush creep over your face.

“Listen, I kind of have to go, the cops are going to get here soon and I really don’t want to have to explain to my parents what happened, also I want to be able to hang out with my friends. They’d never let me leave the house again after this…” You gestured to the scene around you. The masked hero nodded. 

“I get it… more than you know. Come here, I can help.” He motioned for you to come outside by the door with him. “Hold on tight.” He grabbed you around the waist once you were out and shot a web, lifting you into the air. It was exhilarating and you felt your hair whipping around your face. However, the joy ride was short. Spider-man brought you to the ground 3 buildings over from Delmar’s just as the first responders arrived on the scene. Miraculously he took you in the direction of your house.

“Now you don’t have to worry, get home safe. I don’t recommend any more stops tonight.” Spider-man said to you. There was a note of deep concern in his voice and again it felt familiar.

“Thank you,” You whispered breathless. Staring at a real hero, one whom you had just helped catch a villain was unreal. He didn’t answer, he merely raised a gloved hand and smoothed down your unruly hair. Then without warning he shot a web out to his right and swung out of view.

Something in your stomach was telling you that you knew the face underneath that mask, but you tucked away that nagging feeling and hauled-ass home.

Tennessee Whiskey

Title: Tennesee Whiskey

Summary: Dean Winchester doesn’t think he can fall in love. But every time he thinks of the way he’s around her, the way she makes him smile even in the darkest of days, he starts to believe that maybe, just maybe, he’s wrong.

Author: deanssweetheart23

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader

Word count: 2315

Warnings: Hmmm. Like the tiniest bit of angst. Drinking as a coping mechanism (not healthy, but this is Dean we’re talking about, so, you know…). And fluff, guys. So much fluff.  

Author’s Notes: This is my submission for @supernatural-jackles Jen’s SPN Birthday Challenge. My sweetest friend, Jen, happy birthday (even if I’m a few days early) and thank you so much for letting me participate. I loved working on this one.

My prompt for this was a gif that’s inserted into the fic. The story is very much based on Chris Stapleton’s Tennessee Whiskey (which is the most amazing song ever and has Dean’s name all over it *cough* the glorious Jensen Ackles has covered that song and it’s a dream *cough*)

Special thank you to my twin @ravengirl94 because she is the best best-friend and writing guru in the world (and because she kept me sane these past few weeks). You’re the best, twin. 

Thank y’all for bearing with me. Enjoy <3 

Originally posted by dontlookatmeitwashim

Dean Winchester had always liked bars.

He liked the way they looked, deep mahogany booths and age-speckled lights making him feel at home in places that had seen their fair share of stories, the way that distinct scent of cigarette smoke and aged whiskey clung to his clothes afterwards, like it was a piece of him.

He liked the inverted bottles that were pressed along the walls, the beer and the whiskey and the bourbon, and the way it burnt down his throat and made him feel something, anything, on those nights he was far too numb and far too broken to believe he was alive in the first place.

Alcohol used to be Dean’s poison and fuel anyway; it cleansed the impure parts of him and kept him going when he felt like there wasn’t much to keep going for.

And then she came along.

Y/N waltzed into his life years ago, when she’d shakily shot the werewolf that had kidnapped her right in the heart, and, ever since that day, she’d somehow managed to wove herself deep into the fabric of his existence.

He didn’t even notice at first.

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“Will I Be the Lead?” (P3) || Finn Wolfhard

“Will I Be the Lead?” : Part 1 || Part 2

Requested: yessss

Tense: 3rd person

Summary: Josh and Finn hang out whilst (Y/N) is away with her boyfriend, of whom both disapprove. Josh notices something and Finn comes to a realisation.

A/N: okay so this sucks but the next one will be golden // I wrote this whilst listening to Spendtime Palace & (Joe Keery’s band) Post Animal who im proper obsessed with

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* Study - Cullen’s Eyes *

The first installment in a series of studies intended to make me better at drawing Cullen by actually forcing me to understand his facial features, rather than just replicating a screenshot. \o/ These are mostly for me, but I also wanted to share them in case someone else finds them helpful. :)

For the first one, I decided to start with my favorite feature - eyes. I love drawing eyes so much; a lot of character lies in the eyes, and it’s important to get them right, or that character is lost.

As far as I can tell, Cullen has classic “hooded” eyes. In these types of eyes, the lid may be partially visible or almost completely concealed, either by sagging skin above the brow or by the brow bone itself. In Cullen’s case, it’s the actual bone, as his eyes are deeply set into the sockets, and his skin is pretty tight.

You can tell this by seeing how the line of the lid merges with the line of the brow bone not far from the inner corners of his eyes. The space between the bone and the top of the lid on the inside corner forms a sort-of sideways “V” shape, and then the rest of the line delineates both the lid and the brow bone.

Do note that he doesn’t really have “downturned” eyes, it just looks that way due to the downward arc of his eyelid. If you were to draw a line from the outer corner to the inner corner, you could see that his eyes are actually turned up very slightly.

Cullen does have faint squint lines at the corners of his eyes, one in line with the eyelid and the other slightly below. His bottom lid also protrudes a little bit, with a distinct downwards-sloping line under his eye. The rim of the orbital socket itself is also noticeable, especially close to his nose.

His brows are arched, almost  so-called “S-shaped,” and this is made more prominent when he raises them. They’re thickest right above the eye and at the inner corners; the outer corners taper and become less dense fairly quickly. They’re not super thick or thin. They are also fairly low and close to the eyes.

As far as placement, Cullen’s eyes are pretty much right smack at “idealistic” proportions, with approximately one eye width in between them. As a matter of fact, his whole face is pretty much in line with idealistic artistic proportions, which explains his attractiveness to many. :P

You’re Safe Here

Daryl Dixon x Reader | Smut Warning | 18+

Request: My request stems from a dream I had started before my alarm went off to wake me up for work. I bet you can imagine the irritation. So, reader has lost their entire group to walkers and has had to spend a few weeks alone without human contact whatsoever until she stumbles upon Alexandria, where the group is all settled and comfortable and she finds it hard to fit in and act like normal again, she finds comfort in Daryl (even though she was wary of conversing with anyone for a while) who also finds comfort in her discomfort in Alexandria (if that makes any sense). Sorry if I’m too specific, please feel free to change anything you want. 

 Summary: The Reader is saved in the woods by Daryl. He brings her to Alexandria and helps her heal. She is accepted into the town. But, really only feels safe with Daryl. She witnesses Daryl having a dream about her (ahem) and she decides to make her move. Smut Ensue.


Your boots hit the ground harshly with each leap and bound. Your heart was beating so loudly that it was all you could hear aside from the snarls and cawing of the undead, which you had been running from since you didn’t know how long. You jumped and dived over branches and rocks through the woods you had escaped into after your group had been attacked by a hoard of walkers.  That had been weeks ago. Weeks with little food or water and very little rest. Whenever you did try and sleep you always had nightmares of being ripped apart or reliving the deaths of those you had lost. Sleep was no longer your friend, and neither was this world.

You looked up at the sky as you ran, it beat harshly down on you through the trees, directly at its twelve o’clock position. You looked back down and worriedly looked around, not sure what direction you were going in or where to even go. You had been walking in circles it seemed for days. You were trying to find water but had yet to get lucky. It had been days since your last stop at a stream.

Suddenly you dropped to your knees, unable to run any long. You winced in pain as your body heaved, trying to catch your breath. Your lungs burned in your chest. You kneeled down into the ground, hugging your own body for a moment, trying to focus on your breathing. You held your stomach tightly, feeling how starved you were.

You heard a twig snap behind you and you swiftly sat up, you slowly looked around your immediate area, listening intently for any signs of danger. You scanned the trees, your eyes trying to make out the difference between the shadows and real, present danger.

Your eyes never left your surroundings as your hands frantically grasped around on the leaf and twig covered ground below you. Your bloody fingers scraped across the ground until they gripped a big rock. You grabbed it and held it firmly in your hands, standing up and slowly circling your area. Your mind began to imagine walkers slowly coming out of the woods, arms raised out to you as your body circled faster. Then you’d blink, and they were gone. You could still hear their creepy jagged breathing as If they were breathing down your neck. You closed your eyes tighter, dropping the rock and pressing both hands to your ears, trying to silence the sound.

“Stop it!” You screamed loudly.

Suddenly, your body was jolted to an abrupt stop and you opened your eyes. Your vision was spinning because of your spun equilibrium. You saw a blurred vision of three, no, two people looking at you? You heard them speak but, you couldn’t quite make it out, muffled by the heartbeat in your ears.

The voice continued, and you winced, trying to make out what was happening. The monsters breathing got further away and you started to hear the voice more clearly. Soon your vision began to return to normal and the two shadows faded into one. You blinked a few more times until you started to be able to see the featured of the person, the man, in front of you. His voice still seemed like it was miles away and like it came out of a fuzzy PA box, but you could finally start to understand his words.

“Hey… Hey!” He shouted in a low growl.

You looked up at him in a dazed and confused state, not sure if he was really or not.

He shook your shoulders again, “Hey! Are ya okay?” He growled louder.

You peered at him, finally able to see his full features, he was beautiful.

You smiled happily before your vision went black and you fell backwards unconscious.


You turned your head and opened your eyes, your body seizing awake at the sudden sound of metal on metal rubbing together. You winced as the bright sun hit your eyes. You blinked quickly trying to get them to adjust. You looked up and saw the man’s face you had saw in the woods.

He looked down at you, in his arms, as he felt you stirring.

His eyes locked yours and he look down at you with worried, strong eyes.

“Don’t worry. You’re safe here. I’m gonna help you.” Daryl said, his eyes never leaving yours.

You stared at him, trying to find his motive, he seemed to have trustworthy eyes. But, in this world you could never tell. You nodded shortly, your body stiffening as you sat up slightly and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling your body up. You realized how close your lips were to his neck, forgetting for a second that you weren’t alone.

You quickly snap you head back over to the scene unfolding in front of you. You saw a big red headed man in army gear and a woman with a green brimmed hat, dark hair pulled back, and stern eyes. You watched as the ran the gate in front of you open. Daryl began to run, with you in his arms. You gripped onto him as you watched him carry you through the gate. You looked up with wide, nervous eyes at the massive, inescapable size of it. You wondered if you had made the right decision, trusting this man.

He looked down at you, his body glistening with sweat and dirt in the mid-day sun.

“Ya okay?” He asked, panting slightly as he caught his breath.

You nodded, your eyes softening at his concern.

“Well, well, well… What did you find there?” The commanding red headed man walked over to the two of you.

He stood at command an automatic rifle in his hand. He stared at you with hardened, yet kind eyes. You squirmed in Daryl’s arms at the close proximity. It had been too long you had been on your own, you didn’t like not knowing if you were safe or not.

Daryl noticed your discomfort and gripped you tighter, hugging you closer into him.

“Found her. Out there.” He nudged his nose back to the woods.

“How do you know we can trust her?” The Latino woman in the brimmed hat walked over and stood side by side next to the red headed man.

Daryl squinted over at them, his eyes narrow and his chest puffed out.

“Don’t worry about her. I’m takin her with me. Tell Rick I’ll talk to him ‘bout it in the morning.”

He looked down at you, his eyes softening a little as he stared into your starved, scared eyes, “She needs rest.”

Daryl looked back over at the two people and you ventured a sideways look. You watched Rosita cross her arms and purse her lips, but not in agreement. The redheaded gruff man raised his hands playfully into the air and grinned, “Will do.”

He locked eyes with yours, still smiling with his arms raised, “Welcome to Alexandria…”

He slowly lowered one hand and lowered it to yours.

You slowly lowered on hand and placed it timidly next to his, “Y/N.” You said.

The man smiled an endearing smile and took your hand and shook it, “Abe.”

He nodded his head to the woman, “This here is Rosita.”

Then, he nudged his nose up, behind you, “And you’ve already met Daryl.”

Abe dropped his hand and you returned yours back to grip on his neck.

You stared up into his eyes, “Daryl.” You said, resisting the butterflies you felt when those dark blue intense eyes locked on you.

Suddenly, your body started to heave, and you started coughing, your dry throat getting even more hoarse. You leaned your lips into the side of Daryl’s chest and coughed into it.

“We gotta go get you somethin’ to eat, darlin’.” He said as his arms gripped you securely into him.

You nodded and clung to him, coughing a little more as he started to walk down the road. You watched the scenery flowing by, women, children, laughing and playing. Couples were kissing and planting crops in their yards. You watched in awe, feeling like this too was some sort of dream you had yet to wake up from. Daryl walked you all the way down the road to the last house on the right. It was modest, just big enough for what he needed.

He walked you up the steps of the old, creaky, wooden floor. He turned the knob and pushed the door open with force, the door flew open in obedience. You stared ahead of you, your heart still in your ears, trying to focus on reality. Your head felt so spacey and you could hardly focus. You watched him walk you inside and down a small hallway. He walked all the way to the door at the end and opened it.

You looked around and saw it was a bedroom. There was a blanket slightly covering each window, tacked to the wall to keep them in place. You looked at the mostly dim room and saw a dresser with guns, knives, and arrows laid out across it. On the right-side wall was a large, Queen sized bed with sheets and blankets thrown all over, clothes littered the floor, and there were a few empty chip bags on the night stand. He walked you the twenty or so feet over to the bed, laying you down onto it.

You felt the soft feel of the mattress hit your body as you sunk into it, with the man they called Daryl over you. His strong, arms slowly lowered you down, until your body was laying on the bed. Your arms cupped his neck a second longer, not really wanting to let go, but they felt so weak. They dropped with a thud to your sides.

He looked down at you as your breathing slowed and your eyes began to shut. You heard him walking across the floor and heard the fluffing of some material. You then felt a big, blanket descend onto your body.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, over the blanket and then heard the man speak to you.

“Rest. Ya need it.” He patted you timidly one more time for you heard him walk across the room and the door shut.

You tried to sit up, but you winced in pain, even too tired for your voice to help outlet your pain. You let your bed lay back down and laid there, nearly unable to move in silence. You closed your eyes and waited to be jolted awake by that sound, those walkers. After a while your body relaxed and you began to drift off, not hearing the threat you were so scared of. You drifted off into the deepest sleep as your body went to work healing itself.

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Artwork (Negan x Female)

Summary: Negan gives her a gift for her birthday.

Characters: Negan x Female

Word Count: 1,219

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Fluff

Author’s Note:  @illysamorgan asked me to write her a birthday fic, so here you go! I hope this little drabble is to your liking and I hope you have a happy birthday, dear!

I am always happy to hear what you think! Shoot me a message and tell me what you thought! If you want to be on my tag list, let me know!

Originally posted by heartfulloffandoms

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Mission: Climb The Ranks

guess what I added on to that Castle AU like a year later so yeah

Relationship: Nursey/Dex

Tags: Castle AU, author nursey, detective dex,K-I-S-S-I-N-G

Read Nurse Series on AO3 | Part 1 On Tumblr 

6 Months Earlier

“Let me get this straight.”

Derek bites back the ‘good luck with that’ that’s on the tip of his tongue, forcing himself to remember that Lardo isn’t a free spirited art major anymore. No, she’s a sergeant in the NYPD who carries a gun and probably would not hesitate to shoot his toe or something to prove a point.

“You are working on a new series, and instead of just doing research like a normal fucking person, you want to shadow one of my detectives?” Lardo rubs at her temple, giving Derek a look like she’s totally over his bull shit.

This detective,” Derek clarifies, tapping the newspaper article sitting between them on Lardo’s desk. “He’s the one.”

“Derek…” Lardo squints at him, her mouth tilting up in a sideways smirk. “I’m not going to burden my best detective with your distracting ass if this is just about your thing for gingers in uniform.”

Derek lets out an undignified squawk of protest. “This is serious Lards!” He yelps, throwing his hands up in the air. “I want this series to have that grit to them, that real life feel, and I can’t do that without being immersed in a case!”

They stare at each other for a tense moment, Lardo’s dark brown eyes undoubtedly trying to set him on fire or something terrible. He’s not being dramatic okay, Larissa Duan can be fucking scary when she wants to be.

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Requested by @fabulouspotatosister

“We did it!”

Sometimes the Doctor was just a little bit too cheery. Although, in this case, he was perfectly justified. You did just escape death-by-exploding-TARDIS, after all, and that was worth being cheerful for.

“Yeah,” you breathed, slumped against the control console. Man, that was a close one. That could have been bad. Very bad. Death-bad. “We did.”

What you had done, you weren’t sure, but the Doctor had told you to do it and the mauve alarm had stopped flashing and that shrill whistle was finally silent and the TARDIS wasn’t rocking back and forth anymore, so you could only assume that it had worked. And that you weren’t going to die, which was good.

The Doctor was at your side out of nowhere. “You okay?”

“Fine,” you assured him, but he didn’t seem convinced.

“C'mere,” he murmured, pulling you into a hug. “Shh, easy. It’s okay.”

“I just said I’m fine,” you muttered, but who were you to resist a hug from the Doctor? You gripped the fabric of his suit, not wanting to pull away. Every hug from the Doctor was something you treasured. If you were smart, you wouldn’t torture yourself with all this closeness, all this touching that would have been, from any human, rather suggestive of… something. Anything. Any possibility of a thing that was vaguely more-than-friendly-like. But no, of course this was not so with the Doctor. He couldn’t just-

Oh, who were you kidding? The Doctor was a romantic; he just wasn’t a romantic with you.

And just so, you thought. He was, as some might put it, “way out of your league.” And you knew it. So you wouldn’t sulk like a little girl. No. You would sulk like a grown woman, staying up ‘til the crack of dawn with your favorite food and a good movie and some stolen hugs from the Doctor.

“If you say so,” the Doctor finally conceded. “How about we stay in tonight, huh? I think that was more than enough near-death experience for one evening.”

“Definitely,” you agreed. Well, it was time for a shower. Or a bath. And a nap. That had been an exhausting experience. Or, well, if you were going to make this an indulge-myself-because-I-nearly-died therapy session, why not take a nap in a bath? The TARDIS would keep the water fresh and warm and it wasn’t like anyone was going to care if you got pruny. Oh, yes. This was a good idea. There was only one obstacle between you and a therapy bath that potentially could include bubbles.

The Doctor wasn’t letting go.

“Mm… Doctor?”

“Oh!” The Doctor took a few steps back from you, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“No problem,” you said, and in a desperate attempt to make sure he hadn’t gotten the wrong idea, you said, “I like hugs.”

Well, dumber things had been said by you before, but the Doctor was either oblivious or was kindly ignoring the blurb of awkward that had just slipped out of your mouth.

“Um… well, y'see, the thing is…” The Doctor was doing that eye thing, where he would look at you a bit sideways and squint. It always made him look a bit guilty, although the expression was actually a sign of anxiousness, you were discovering. He scratched the back of his neck, another anxious habit, and you were immediately on alert. "You’re brilliant, you know that?“

"You might have mentioned it once or twice.” He had. It was like his catchphrase. Save the Earth? You’re brilliant! Talk to aliens without being weirded out? You’re brilliant! Give him a banana? You’re brilliant! But then again, you tried not to take anything the Doctor said too seriously. He had once been in the habit of calling you foolish girl and stupid ape, so you knew his words, even the complimentary ones, were to be taken with a grain of salt.

“No, I mean, really brilliant,” the Doctor insisted. “I mean, we do this stuff, all the time, nearly dying, and sometimes you lose your cool but you never give up. And regeneration! You stuck through regeneration and just accepted that I’m still me even though I’m nothing like old me was, and nobody does that!”

Ah. The Regeneration Incident. That had been a lot of fun. You wondered if this was finally the day when you would look back on that event and laugh off how traumatizing it had been for everyone involved, but the Doctor didn’t look to be in the laughing mood. And, he wasn’t done.

The Doctor was swaying back and forth on his feet, scuffing his trainers and running his hands through his hair. You leaned back a little bit, confused. He should be relaxed, not stressed out. You had just successfully survived. What was his problem?

“Do you know that I watch you?”

… Well. That was a new one. “Um…”

“I do,” he said, working his jaw. “I watch you. I know humans get a bit freaked out by that, but it’s a Gallifreyan thing. We watch time, we watch the universe, we watch… important things. I watch you 'cause I can’t not watch you. Because you’re in my brain, all the time. I’m afraid of lettin’ my gob run without checking it, because I know that if I’m not careful, I’m gonna mention you every other sentence. That’s mad!” He wildly threw his arms up in the air to emphasize his point, but you thought the way his hair was defying gravity was probably a better illustration. Wait, no, it was time to be serious. The Doctor was being serious. Leave the hair alone. Do not fantasize about ruffling. “That’s absolutely insane! Loco, bonkers, off my rocker! My big, superior, Time Lord brain, and all I can think about is…”

There were a lot of directions this could be going in, but you had half an idea that it was going somewhere emotionally dangerous. “Is..?”

The Doctor stepped close to you, so close that you thought that he was going for another hug, but his hands -his manly, hairy hands that he was so proud of- reached up to cup your face. He leaned down so that his forehead nearly bumped yours.

“You fill my head,” he said in a hushed, reverent tone, and you noted that his breath smelled like banana and cinnamon. That was, of course, before you realized exactly what it was that he said. 'You fill my head.’ Your heart stuttered at the implication. "I hate going on adventures without you. I want to show you everything, I want to know what you think; I want to have you be with me, always. Forever. Because you were my best mate, and you still are, but you’re so much more than that and you’re amazing and brilliant and if I ever lose you I don’t think I’ll… and I just… I want… Please.“

"I…” What were you supposed to say? I love you? No, you couldn’t say that! No, no, no-no-no. Your mind went to Red Alert when you realized that the Doctor was waiting for some sort of response and you were so without a proper answer that you were learning the true meaning of the phrase 'tongue like lead.’

Wait, what was he doing? He was pulling away!

You looked, and the disappointment and hurt in his eyes was like a punch in the gut.

“It’s alright,” he said with a weak, thin smile that lied, lied, lied, filthy lying liar who lies. “I didn’t expect you to feel the same-”

It was only two seconds. Maybe just one. But in those two-seconds-maybe-one, your experienced what the Doctor might have identified as some sort of Time Sense. You saw your life, from this point on, without the Doctor. It wasn’t half bad. In fact, it was quite pleasant. You were married, successful in a career that you enjoyed, and surrounded by friends you would gain over the years. But then you imagined life with the Doctor. It was wild, and a bit scary, and there were certainly no mortgages or commuting to work. But you had a key to the TARDIS, and the Doctor looked at you like you held the universe, and there were no boundaries. No walls or fences. And you were so, so happy. With him.

And that only took a second or two. He had dropped his hands from your face and was pulling away, but oh no. That was not gonna happen, not if you had anything to say about it.

You reached out, grabbed the straying Doctor by the collar of his coat (the tie had been tempting but not within reach), and yanked him back to you. Forget whether or not it was in your nature, forget whether or not you were the sort to make life-changing decisions in a split-second, and please, forget caution! Throw it to the wind! Because you were not letting him get away. Not this time, and not because you were too silent to tell him-

“I love you.”

Your imagination realized that it made an error in its prediction of the future and corrected this mistake by adding kissing to the 'stay and love the Doctor forever’ scenario. Lots and lots of kissing. Because the Doctor was good, which was saying something, considering that he was practically attacking your mouth with his mouth. Points for the noises, though. He was whimpering, and you were quite sure that it was the most adorable, desperate sound you had ever heard.

“You mean it?” he panted into your mouth when your mouths finally broke contact, sounding far too close to heartbroken. “Really?”

“I do,” you answered, your bottom lip brushing against his. “More than anything.”

He would say it back to you later. You knew he would. In the meantime, he was going to enthusiastically teach you about all the different types of kisses in the universe. There was, apparently, a whole book about that particular subject. And he had been reading a lot lately.

Guardian (IX)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jongdae / Baekhyun

Rating: PG-13

Warning: Electric-shock torture 

Word Count: 3,826

Summary:  You keep seeing the same guy everywhere you go. In the coffee shop, on the streets, in your philosophy class. It’s getting to the point where you think he’s stalking you - only to realize that maybe there’s something much more mysterious at play here. (AU: Chen is your guardian angel)

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I Wish I Could Stay

Characters: Sam Winchester x reader, Dean Winchester
Word count: like 5000 [how and why?? wtf??]
Warnings: injury, swearing, slight sleep disorder, lots of sexual tension, fluff, implied smut, ANGST (i’m sorry. it wasn’t supposed to be angsty at first, i swear.)
Summary: Y/n gets hurt during a hunt and makes her way to the bunker after having left a few months ago (the winchesters, but specifically sam).
A/N: This is for @bradygabrielle-blog’s challenge. The prompt was ‘Tell me you’ve never thought about it.’ I am so so sorry it took so long, but here it is! (Also, this totally went in a different direction than I thought it would, but doesn’t it always… lol)
Beta-ed by the amazing @heytheretumbrl

Originally posted by mehsupernaturalxx

I attempted to limp down the stairs to get into the bunker from the garage, but at that point, I was so exhausted that I slid down the wall to the steps, holding onto the railing so I wouldn’t fall straight down. I groaned and tightened my grip on the badly bandaged wound in my side.

I let go of the banister and pulled my phone out of my pocket, trying to keep it from falling out of my shaky hands. I didn’t trust my voice to be loud enough if I tried yelling through the metal door into the bunker. There were a few blood spatters on my phone, but I ignored them, swiping it open. I managed to hit Dean’s number and put the phone on speaker. 

“Y/n?” His voice came over the sounds of a bar and a pool game. “Long time no talk. What’s up?”

I groaned. “You’re not at the bunker, are you?”

“I’m not. What’s going on? Do you need me to come over there?”

I shook my head. “No. You’re fine. I’ll, just, uh, get S-Sam… I guess.”

“You sure, y/n/n?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine, Dean. You have fun, okay?” I hung up before he could argue. I let go of my phone for a second, trying to get myself to call Sam’s number. I finally pressed his name, still in my favorites, and listened while it rang.

“Y/n?” His voice sounded tired and confused, very, very confused, as if he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not.

I laughed weakly, thankful that he’d picked up on the first try. “Heya, Sammy!” I winced. “I hope you’re home!” I gasped out, attempting to sound okay.

But he heard the pain behind the words instantly. “Y/n? What’s wrong? Where are you? Why are you…?”

I groaned again. “Um, I know it’s like two in the morning, but I’m in your garage… And I could use a little help.” I heard a click as Sam hung up and leaned my head against the wall, hoping I wasn’t getting blood all over the place.

Thirty seconds later, the door into the garage swung open, slamming against the wall, making my head vibrate, and I sat up again as well as I could, trying to hide the joy and the pain at seeing him again after all this time.

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I Only Want You | Part: 2

Daryl Dixon x Reader | Smut Warning | 18+ Only | NSFW

(Part 1)

Request: Hey hon, can you make one with YN and Daryl were together and one day he out for a run and he brings a woman with him (he saved her) that woman start flirting with Daryl and YN get really pissed and end up with Daryl proving to that she is the only one (Daryl x Reader).

Summary: Daryl begins to train Nina and she makes advances at him. The Reader becomes extremely jealous. Daryl proves to the Reader he only wants her. Ends in smutty loud love making. 


The next few days were stressful. You had to listen to the new woman in the group complain and ask for Daryl’s help just about every time he left your cell. Of course he obliged because he was a giver. But, that didn’t mean you didn’t feel a twinge of jealousy when he would help her hobble by your room, her eyes coming to yours as if she knew what fire she was playing with. On the upside you yourself had begun to train more, taking advantage of the small shed you and Daryl had to brush up on your boxing skills.

Daryl had found an old boxing bag in one of the rooms where the prisoners used to work out in and had hung it up in the shed, making it the perfect get away spot when you needed one. You punched, jabbed, and kicked the bag as hard as you could until you fell over exhausted on the mattress laying on the floor.

Your sweat drenched body heaved in and out as you tried to regain your breath after yet another intense workout. You stretched your body out onto the mattress and concentrated on your breathing. Your hands ran up the sheets of the bed and your mind wandered back to the night before Daryl had left, when he had treated you so good. You two hadn’t been together since and you knew the reason why.

As if on cue you heard Nina giggling outside, you sat up and quickly grabbed the tank top next to you on the bed and pulled it over your sports bra. You heard Daryl pulling at the door. You swiftly walked over and banged on it from the inside, “Hold on! I’ll unlock it!” You shouted to him from the other side. The tugging stopped.

You quickly untied the rope from your side of the door and pushed the door open. Daryl took in your sweaty appearance and smirked to himself, he always loved how amazing you looked after a good workout. Although the kind he had in mind didn’t involve anything but him. You two locked eyes and your hard eyes started to melt when you saw him taking your body in. You smiled sweetly back, almost forgetting you weren’t alone. 

Suddenly you saw Nina’s hand grab at Daryl’s shoulder harshly as she tripped over her own two standing still feet. 

Daryl’s eyes were forced back to her.

“Sorry. I am such a clutz!” She tossed her blonde hair and batted her eyes at him.

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Saving Her (B.Barnes)

Saving Her

Bucky Barnes

Warnings: swearing, violence, protective!Bucky

The thick smoke curls under your nose, flowing into your senses before you can turn away. Ashy air flows into your lungs, your neck craning against the wall as you thrash away from the stench. With your hands pinned above your head, your body is stretched out in front of the stranger. Steel plated boots stand on your feet, pinning them to the ground so you wouldn’t be able to fight against him.

“Such a pretty girl, a shame that I’m going to have to kill you.” The Russian officer chuckles, placing his knife at the base of your throat, lightly pressing into the delicate skin. Narrowing your eyes, you shift against his hand on your wrists, earning a harsh press of the knife into your neck. A few drops of blood drip down your skin, pooling on your breasts that remain exposed from the dip of your low cut top.

He smiles down at you, his crooked and yellowing teeth in your face. “It’s nothing personal, love. Honestly you’re not even my target but at this point you know too much to not be considered dangerous. Just think, had you not fallen in love, you would be safe and sound - not mere moments from death.”

You observe the man, remembering every detail of his face. The slight slope of his nose is crooked in the middle, shifting it to lean towards the left side of his face. A long scar follows his jawline, his thick stubble hiding it only partly. His hairs clean cut and swept from his face, hidden under a military cap that has seen it’s fair share of damage.

Your mouth stays pressed shut, knowing if you speak he will only get angrier with your lack of information. You knew almost everything to do with the topic he was asking about but you’d never admit that to your attacker, you wouldn’t even mumble a single word to him just yet, waiting for the right time.

“Maybe I should take you home, lock you up and keep you for myself, huh? Tell my boss that you’re dead, tell him I sliced this pretty neck in half. That’d make both of us very happy, right? I’d get you to myself and you’d get to live. Fair trade.” The man mewls, his lips gracing across your ear as he tells you his plan in explicit detail. You hold back the need to vomit as he speaks, your eyes darting around the seemingly empty room for any sort of material you could wield as a weapon.

The man continues to drawl out his words, sliding the knife across your neck slowly - light enough not to draw blood but enough to remind you that it is indeed there. He pushes the knife up your cheek, pushing your hair back with the blunt edge of it. His hot breath falls on your temple, his eyes hooded with lust as he looks down at you.

Sliding your foot out from under his, you jut your knee up into his groin. He chokes and steps back, anger flashing through his already dark eyes. You try to run, moving as fast as you can before a hand encases your hair and pulls you back. You trip and land on the ground before receiving a harsh kick to the stomach. A yelp escapes your lips, your hands gripping the mans boot before you twist his ankle backwards. 

The strange man growls and pulls you up by your hair, pinning you to the wall with enough force to make your head slam against the thick surface. Blinking away the pain, you don’t have enough time to brace yourself for the fist that is centimeters from your face. After a few hits and many slaps, you spit blood from your mouth and cough, slumping in the mans hold.

The guy smiles again at you, brushing his lips against your cheek. “You’re going to die.” You grunt, pulling away from his horrid breath. 

He chuckles at you, pressing his knife to your cheek to make you look at him. “Oh, and who’s going to kill me? Most definitely not you, you’re nothing but an average girl, not stronger than a little child.” His accent purrs sexist words in your face, your teeth grinding against one another.

“I won’t kill you, but he might.” You answer slyly, spitting more blood from your mouth. The man pulls away from you, raising an eyebrow before following your gaze to the other end of the room, his knife pressed snugly against your jugular.

His eyes meet an extremely pissed off James Barnes. 

Bucky bounds the steps quickly, his fists clench as a snarl forms on his lips. One glance at you has his heart racing faster than he ever though was possible, his mind clouding with the need to kill the man who dared to lay a finger on the only thing he has ever loved more than his own life.

The man visibly gulps, his grip on you tightening before he pulls you to stand in front of him, his knife pressed against you, digging into your skin enough to draw blood.

“One more move and I’ll slit her throat.” The man barks, expecting Bucky to listen to his orders. “Stay where you are or she’s going to die, do you understand me?

Bucky shakes his head, pulling out a gun before pointing it at the mans head. “What, are you going to kill her and try to beat me with a knife? If you so much as touch her for a second longer I’ll blow your brains against the fucking wall. I will kill you in the most painful way possible, so I’m warning you now - back away from her, now.”

Your attacker shakes his head, holding you more in front of him. “I’ll let her go if you surrender yourself.” The man bargains, your eyes widening when you see Bucky seriously contemplating the trade off. 

You struggle against the man, shaking your head relentlessly. “No, Bucky, don’t go with him! Please!” You beg, fighting more as the arms around you start to tighten. Bucky cocks the gun in his hand, his eyes showing his discomfort with the fact your in extreme danger.

Bucky had always warned you about the dangers of becoming involved with him, he pleaded you to stay away from him and he didn’t think he would be strong enough to stay away from you. He needed you to be safe and in your opinion, you were safest in his arms - but, in his, you were safest thousands of miles away from him with the memory of him fading every day. 

When he had finally given in to the relationship, he made your safety his top priority. You were always on his mind, there was never a time when he wasn’t fussing over locking all the doors and windows, scoping out the neighborhood or interrogating the neighbors. You thought he was going overboard but he knew deep in his heart that something bad would happen to you - he just wanted to prolong that for as long as he possibly could.

And now, here you were with a knife to your throat and blood dripping down your neck. Bucky cursed himself for leaving you home alone when he went out grocery shopping, he tried to get you to go but you had refused, claiming you wanted to finish watching your show. He had woken up feeling as if something bad was going to happen today, he wished he had listened to it like he usually did instead of push it away to focus on how beautiful you looked with your hair strewn about the pillow.

“Drop the gun, soldier!” The man yells in your ear, your eyes squinting shut at the sheer volume. Wiggling your neck a few inches from the man, you steps sideways which in turn resulted in him losing his footing momentarily. You took the opportunity to slip from his grasp and run into Bucky’s chest.

Your boyfriends human arm wound around your waist, pushing you behind him to shield you from anymore harm. The Russian man pulls a gun from his belt, clicking the safety off before aiming at Bucky, his finger sliding along the cool metal of the trigger.

Bucky shoot down at the mans ankle, the bullet snapping into the bone before he jumps on top of the injured man, his fists piling into the intruders face. Bucky’s metal arm whirs as he lifts it and delivers blow after blow, his face red with anger. 

Shielding your eyes, you cup the decent sized cut on your neck to help stop the bleeding. Before you know it, Bucky has ceased all movement, standing from the near dead man below you. Walking swiftly over to you, Bucky holds your cheeks in his hands as he surveys the damage.

You place your hands on his chest, looking up at him. His eyes are clouded over with thick tears that threaten to spill, his head shaking at the sight of your bruised and bloodied face. “I am so sorry.” He chokes out before collapsing into your arms.

“Bucky, this is not your fault. None of this is your fault. HYDRA is the only thing to blame here, not you. I wasn’t that mans target, he didn’t even know I was a person until he saw me on the couch and just assumed I knew something about you. Stop blaming yourself, I’m okay. I love you.” You coo, brushing his hair from his face.

His metal fingers run along the cut on your neck, cooling the burning skin. “I love you so much, I’m never going to not love you. I just..I need to be more careful with you. I can’t put you in danger anymore, I don’t know how I didn’t rip that guys head off the second I walked in here. I’m so sorry.”

His tears pool around your shoulder, soaking the shirt you have on. “Let’s call Steve, see how to get that guy out of our apartment and then, we will cuddle for the rest of the day, okay?” You suggest, nudging his nose with your own.

He nods, blinking away leftover tears. You smile, pressing your lips to his slightly chapped ones, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as his hands grip your cheeks. 

With that one kiss, Bucky knew he could never leave you. He loved you too much to leave you, so he decided that the next best thing for your safety would be for him to protect you tooth and nail, for the rest of his life.

ask if there is some mistake

This is the first part of a fic I tried to write for the omgcp big bang before I realized I’d never finish on time. It’s still not finished hahaha but I thought I’d just slowly upload it here. Please let me know if you have questions/concerns!

Content tags and warnings: magic, secretly a high school AU, offscreen minor character death, violence, minor mention of blood, implied/referenced racism, attempted murder, mentions of terminal illness, fake geography, some creepiness.

Derek isn’t lost, because in order to be lost you need to have wanted to be somewhere in the first place, and all he wants is to be anywhere but at school.

It’s been three weeks since he started at the academy, and he’s not sure he’ll ever like being in Andover. It’s different from home in all the wrong ways, and the same as home in all the other wrong ways, and he hates it. Everyone’s stuck up, or aloof, or doesn’t think Derek’s worth the time of day, and already he spends most of his days anxious and homesick. At least he kind of likes most of his classes, and there’s a reprieve in the form of hockey, which is the only bright spot in the whole mess of bad feelings that Andover represents. At least the team makes an effort to embrace and welcome their freshmen.

But today’s been nothing but hit after hit against Derek’s psyche, from a miserable time spent in math trying to catch up on a confusing problem, to being partnered with the most obnoxious douche in the whole class for physics, and almost ruining his whole English essay when he spilled milk all over his desk during breakfast. And he can’t even vent to anyone because he has no fucking friends at this terrible school, and none of his parents are available to skype. Mama is still overseas, dad’s in meetings all day, and mom is in the ER until who knows when.

Which is why he’s wandering through the woods on a Friday afternoon like the loser he is, trying and failing to commune with nature because he’s inescapably turned around after tumbling over a log and rolling down a small dip in the ground. There’s nothing worse than a few bruises on his legs and stray scratches on his palms, but even after climbing back over the ridge, he feels more confused than before. Were those flowers there originally? Did he turn left after that oak, or down a few yards farther, where those conifers are rotting away?

Was the sky always this hard to see through the leaves?

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Drabble Raffle: D+18 - “A strategy fit for a King”

01 Year Anniversary + Birthday Celebration | Masterpost

D → Choi Youngjae (GOT7) 18 → “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”*

Originally posted by ithadtobeyouforever

Tags: NSFW / + 18 / smut / a bit of angst / overstimulation / twisted and dysfunctional relationships / multiple partners / bdsm: suggestion of punishments, bondage and spanking / mentions of abuse (myth of the greek horse arion and his conception by rape) / gray characters / reader’s pov (woman) x idol / prince au / tutor au / GOT7 royalty au
Featuring: First Part: Im Jaebum. Second Part: Choi Youngjae and Park Jinyoung (GOT7)
Writer: CL. Edited by: Admin Lily @kpoppantydrop
Word count: First Part:1k words. Second Part: 1,3k words. Total: 2,3k words
Comment: I don’t remember who requested this, but here it goes anyway. *The sentence starter was changed a bit, but the meaning is the same. This story, like the previous one, also has a dark undertone. GOT7 royalty au drabbles: 01, 02, 03, 04

ATTENTION, PLEASE READ: This is a fictional story. Any similarities to real people are unintentional. This story contains mature themes. By reading this story you agree that you are 18 years or older. The author does not authorize the reproduction, reposting, editing or any alteration of this material, fully or partially. The GIF is not mine, credit above.

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anonymous asked:

catching a cold with marace, please?

“That’s the sixth time today, yoi,” Marco says, leaning against the rail and staring out at the horizon. “You done yet?”

Ace’s hand flops around and he rolls over enough to wheeze out more seawater. Once he’s done coughing, he chokes out, “One more.”

“Nope, no more,” Marco sighs, but he doesn’t make any move to actually stop Ace. He doesn’t need to. Ace can’t even keep himself up on hands and knees right now. “You’re going to make yourself sick, yoi.”

Ace hacks up some more water and spits it over the edge. “Am not,” he says, using the rail to pull himself up enough to sit back on his heels. “‘m a logia now.”

“You can still make yourself sick with seawater,” Marco tells him. Ace’s hand comes flailing his way and Marco reaches out to grab his tricep and haul him upright. “Come on, yoi. You’re done for today.”

“‘m not done,” Ace slurs, wobbling. “One more time. I’ma get it.”

Marco ducks a bit and drags Ace’s arm over his shoulders, slinging his other arm around his waist. “Sure you will, yoi,” he agrees and starts them moving. “But not today.”

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Nobody (Part 3)

Plot:  Reader has been held prisoner by Hydra and is discovered by Nat and Bucky.  Post CA:CW (Bucky’s on the team, no one hates each other) Slight AU

Warnings: mentions of past torture/imprisonment, language, injury, shooting, violence, deaths….can’t think of anything else.

Words: ~3000 (i got carried away and felt bad for being MIA for so long)

A/N:  Sorry I’ve been gone for a while. Hope this next part makes up for it!  

Reader’s POV

You couldn’t be completely sure given your terrible vision, but the man seemed to be smiling at you which was weird since nobody ever smiled at you.  People snarled, growled, grimaced, hollered, spit, laughed, and sneered at you, but nobody ever smiled at you.  He’s probably not smiling

The man took a step forward, studying your tired, sunken eyes and the bruise patterns which peppered your hollow cheeks. He cleared his throat and spoke in that soft angelic voice again.  “What’s your name?”

Didn’t we just go over this? You couldn’t help the furrow in your brow at these two new guards.  Everything they did was completely backwards.  But it’s best not to argue.

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